Get Your War On

Tits and Swallows

The birds! I was talking about the birds.
















If you’re wondering why I’m diverging from the usually staid material that is posted on Von Trapper Keeper and indulging my more juvenile side (and if you’re not wondering that, I need to reevaluate my content), I assure you it is not gratuitous filthy flarn. I’m trying to get flagged by the firewall at my friend’s middle school, since it doesn’t currently block this site (even after the whole Rasputin’s genitals thing). And, no, my friend does not attend the middle school; he runs it. That’s right. I count school principals amongst my readers. This is a respected publication.

(But if you are looking for a little T and S, see here and here.)

Karl Pilkington

The burning question for Ricky Gervais fans is whether or not Karl Pilkington is a concocted character. I mean, he can’t be real, can he? If you don’t know what I’m talking about, Ricky Gervais, the comic genius creator of the Office (BBC version), and his co-creator (Steve Merchant) have been doing a record-breaking podcast, The Ricky Gervais Show, over the past few months, and the producer, Karl Pilkington, has become an internet (and beyond) phenomenon as a result of his surreally odd musings on the show. I think he’s a character, but they continue to insist that he’s really like that and it’s certainly possible. If you haven’t heard the show, it’s downloadable through a free subscription to the podcast on iTunes (you don't need an ipod to do this) and it’s hilarious. Start from the first show to fully appreciate the emergence of Karl as a phenomenon. Here are some clips of Karl (courtesy of Screenhead) that predate the podcast which make me think he might be real, but I’m still not sure. In any case, he's hilarious.

On a related note, I was thinking the other day about how the Business Casual Stag Devil Death Boy story is going to be viewed post-Office, even though it was written a good year or so before I became a fan of the show. And now, it occurs to me that one of my main characters, Carl Caperton, is going to be seen at least as a nominal rip-off of Karl Pilkington. Goddamn you, Ricky.

update - in the last of the podcasts, Karl Pilkington has solved the existential problems posed by Kafka in The Metamorphosis. Well done, Karl.

Weekend Update

It's been a while since I've tightened up the loose ends, so this is the news folks and I am in here:

Book of Job - everything's still on track with the employment exit strategy. I'm in the midst of the 2 month span where I'm still technically employed but don't really have to go to work. "really" because I'm required to go in twice a week, but all that means is showing up and emailing my new boss (who I've never met) to let him know that I'm in the office. I got the official package in the mail yesterday - just left in the lobby. nice. How about a signature required for something like that? As for the Shark Hunter Guy, not much to update there. Upon hearing that I was going to be spending time pursuing artistic endeavors after leaving the job, he suggested that I start painting sharks (which I might just have to do). Yesterday, we gave eachother the dorsal fin sign in the hall, to which a friend said "I don't think I want to know", and I agreed that he didn't. I'm just riding it out at this point.

Book of Jazzy - McGee, that is. McDouchebag, that is. What an asshole. He usually starts the music at about 8:45 AM, which is fine during the week when I need to get my ass up anyways and can just go into my kitchen to get some work done. But on the weekend? Not cool.
So a couple weeks ago, I banged on the wall from my bed, and he seemed to turn the bass or volume down. Last week I tried that again, but he didn't turn it down, so I stomped up the stairs and knocked on his door and he turned it off immediately and didn't come to the door. I stood there for about a minute, but he didn't answer the door so I went back downstairs and he kept the music off for the next few hours. Then yesterday, he fired it up as loud as I've heard it in the late morning. It was like living in a blown speaker. So I start banging on the walls, yelling up, banging the ceiling with the mop. Nothing. So I went upstairs and started knocking on the door and when it became clear that he wasn't going to answer the door or turn down the music, I started yelling my plea through the door. That's when his neighbor came out and sympathized with me. "He's out of control. It's like a concert in there. I've been pounding on my walls." So we talked out loud about how much he sucked and how thin the walls were and then gave up after airing our grievances. He played about two more songs and then shut it down. This guy's a serious asshole. Next step: I leave him a note. Step after that: landlord.

Book of Rock - I went to Avalon on Friday night to see Morning After Girls, Elefant, and Black Rebel Motorcycle Club. MAG started the show and played a pretty good 30 minute set to about 60 people. Elefant came second and royally sucked. Really bad. In fact, this photo from their myspace page pretty much captures it. Possibly the cheesiest lead singer ever. BRMC was ok. They've recently transitioned from their old Jesus and Mary Chain sound to a rootsy blues sound, and at best it was an awkward combination. Weird show. We went to the Pill at Great Scott afterwards and made a pretty successful evening out of it.

Book of Business Casual Stag Devil Death Boy - After finishing my recent commission and in between editing sessions on the forthcoming short film, tentatively titled Dude v Shopping Cart, I've been getting in some quality work on illustrating the story of Business Casual Stag Devil Death Boy into graphic novel (grown-up's comic book) format. This is going to take a long time and should be about 200 plus pages when done. Right now I'm just doing the first draft of the layout, from which I'll draw the final pages. It's a ton of work, but after seeing the DVD behind the scenes bit about the illustration of Miyazaki's Spirited Away, I'm up for it. Those guys and girls are horses.



Book of Random - And finally, it has come to my attention, that some readers of Von Trapper Keeper skipped over the clip of Osama bin Laden on Family Guy, so I'm republishing it here and calling it mandatory viewing. "What did I say? Radaman? What is that? Yeah, maybe Dennis Radaman is going to punish you with his crazy hair!"

That's the news folks and I am outta hair!

la di da di

Guess who's playing the New Orleans Jazzfest this year ...
















Okay party people in the house...
This is something you never witnessed before...
Yes, it’s the incredible doug e. fresh...
With his partner, the grand wizard mc, ricky d
D, and that’s me in the place to be.
We goin’ to do it for ’85, kick it live, allright?
Cuz you know, you’re all sick of all these crap rappers
Biting their rhymes because of they’re back steppers.
But when it comes to me and my man doug fresh here,
There is no competition ’cause we are the best, yeah.
But as impress, which we approve
And yeah, we realize that we are on the move,
So listen closely so y’all don’t miss
As we go a little something like this, hit it!

La-di-da-di...
La-di-da-di...
La-di, da-di!
Yo peep this

La-di-da-di, we like to party
We don’t cause trouble, we don’t bother nobody
We’re, just some men that’s on the mic
And when we rock upon the mic we rock the mic right
For all of y’all, keep y’all in health
Just to see you smile and enjoy yourself
Cause it’s cool when you cause a cozy conditioning
Which we create, cause that’s our mission
So listen close, to what we say
Because this type of shit happens everyday
I woke up around ten o’clock in the morning
I gave myself a stretch up, a morning yawn and
Went to the bathroom to wash up
Put some soap on my face and my hand upon a cup, said
Mirror mirror on the wall
Who is the top choice of them all
There was a rumble tumble, five minutes it lasted
The mirror said, you are you conceited bastard!
Well that true, that why we never had no beef
Then I washed off the soap and brushed the gold teeth
Used oil of olay cause my skin gets pail
And then I grabbed the file for my finger nails
I’m true to the style on my behalf
I put the bubbles in the tub so I could take a bubble bath
Clean, dry, was my, body and hair
I threw on my brand new gucci underwear
For all the girls I might take home
I got the johnson’s baby powder and the polo cologne
Fresh dress, like a million bucks,
Put on the bally shoes and the fly green socks.
Stepped out the house stopped short, oh no
Went back in I forgot my kangol
Then I dilly, dally, I ran through the alley
I bumped into this homegirl named sally from the valley
This was a girl playing hard to get
So I said what’s wrong? cause she looked upset
She said uh, it’s all because of you
I’m feeling sad and blue
You went away
And now my life is filled with rainy days
I love you so
How much you’ll never know
Cause you took your love away from me
Now what was I to do
She was crying over me and she was feeling blue
I said, don’t cry, dry, your eyes
Here comes your mother with those two little guys
Her mean mother steps and says to me hi!
Hit sally in the face and punched her in the eye
Kicked her in the belly, and stepped on her feet
Slammed the child on the hard concrete
The bitch was strong, the kids was gone
Something was wrong I said what was going on?
I tried to break it up I said, stop it, leave her
She said, if I can’t have you she can’t either
She grabbed me closely by my socks
So I broke the hell out like I had the chicken pox
But uh, she gave chase, she caught up quick
She put a finger in the face of mc rick, and said
Why don’t you give me some play?
And we can go cruising in my (oj)
And if you give me that ok
I’ll give you all my love today
Ricky ricky ricky, can’t you see
Somehow your words just hypnotize me
And I just love your jazzy ways
So mc rick my love is here to stay
And on and on and on she kept on
The bitch been around before my mother’s born
I said, cheer up! I gave her a kiss
I said, you can’t have me I’m too young for you miss
She said, no you’re not, then she starts crying
I says, I’m nineteen, she says, stop lying!
I said, I am -- go ask my mother
And with your wrinkled pussy, I can’t be your lover!
To the heart tick tock you don’t stop
To the heart tick tock you don’t quit, hit it!

...don’t ever forget, doug e. fresh, and mc ricky d...

(for you new schoolers, that would be Slick Rick and Doug E Fresh. Also appearing will be Special Ed and Big Daddy Kane. Oh, it's already been broughten. Get there, kids. May 5 through 7).

Delonte Caliente!

Any of you ladies lonely out there on Valentine's Day and looking for some love? While I'll likely be sitting at home watching American Idol, my main man Delonte West of the Boston Celtics is puttin it out there for you.

"So, we are done eating, man, we've got to have someone singing while we're eating. OK, so from there, we're doing a midnight skinny-dipping jump. Alright? From there, hopefully she's got money because I hope Jaws gets her, boom, make sure she got me in the will, bank, I'm good. Oh well, shark got her! Jaws got her. Nah, we ain't going there.

Do some skinny dipping, but keeping it clean fun, don't need to get all right to the point, you know, keeping it clean. Boom, get back, take her back home. Give her a kiss, tell her I enjoyed my night, let's do it again. I don't want her in a situation, because skinny-dipping, she'll already be shaky about doing that if it's an early date, but most likely she will [skinny-dip], but I don't want to end up in one of those situations where you're feeling the mood too much and you try to press the situation and you came all out your hook up. And now you leave feeling lame because you'd try to force the issue and she really wasn't with it, and I know that's happened to a lot of guys out there, you done and feel the night a little too much. So, just keep it nice and easy, and I think from there she'd have a good enough impression where she might want to do it again."

You are the Man, Delonte. Watch out, Wilt. Delonte's going for 25,000.


(thanks to Page2 for the interview and pic, which I blatantly ripped off, and Deadspin for the tip)

The Olympics Post

I don't give a crap about the Olympics.

So, instead of boring you with uninspired drivel (as opposed to my inspired drivel), I will skip that topic and instead give you a link to a short video of ostriches rapping (courtesy of huffingtonpost via screenhead). It's much more entertaining than the Olympics.

That Dahk Yoga

Wow. Let me just say that I had absolutely no knowledge of Dahn Yoga or their ways when I wrote that post yesterday. As I didn't think it was a post that required any fact-checking, I did none. I just thought it was wicked funny to say "Dahn Yoga" with a Boston accent and got a kick out of it every time I walked by the place. First of all, it actually is a chain: 350 worldwide, 147 in the US (50,000 members), 11 in MA (1500 members). More importantly, I was completely unaware of their cultishness and I officially retract my statement of love for that Dahn Yoga. It appears that they really are a dahning organization. I was alerted to the truth about the Dahn by Vlad (name changed to protect the identity of my source) who has observed their ways, secondhand. Apparently, they have a system of getting you to commit more and more time, money, and energy to the group, manipulating you into paying exorbitant amounts of money for workshops, getting you to become a healer and work for the group long hours (80 hours a week) for little pay ($200 a week), and convincing you to try to pull as many people as possible into the group. sketchy. I googled it and, while I am in no way claiming this to be an exhaustive examination of the group, I did find enough concurrence with Vlad's description to be troubled about the Dahn. This forum on yoga.com has some pretty fired up people detailing their experiences of brainwashing and moneybilking at the Dahn, and includes a link to a video clip of the investigative report that was done by our local CBS news affliiate last week. That video (scroll back to the February 3rd videos if you want to watch it) supports the claims of Vlad and the posters on that forum: allegations of lacing food with drugs, some mystical Korean leader who wants to enlist "earthhumans to join his spiritual revolution", people dying of dehydration on Dahn treks, paying $4000 for "healing turtle" statuettes and $800 for "healing necklaces" and $?.?? for "vibrating power brains". What the fuhk?

Again, I haven't gotten any official comment from Dahn Yoga -- in fact, let's go to their website right now to get their side of the story -- and yep, sure enough, they have a video clip from another local CBS news affiliate (local to Arizona) which sounds a hell of a lot better than that one on the Boston channel. And, hmm, that's interesting. The glowing news reporter, Sarah Carlstrom, looks exactly like the sexy blond stretching out on the front page of the website (next to the video clip, which references the AZ turnout in the "last presidential election" on the news ticker, dating the report to November of 04 or 00 in all likelihood). May or may not be her. But either way, this testimonial by one member has got to be real:

I am an active member at the center ... I would like to start by saying that the Master Kim and all the Healers are amazing! They are extremely kind and I feel right at home when going to class! The individual attention they give to each member is remarkable! I joined Dahn Yoga because I was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis two years ago at the age of 23. My doctor said I must work out and exercise. I wasted money on a gym membership for a year. I tried exercise tapes. I tried yoga tapes. I couldn't get into anything. I hate to exercise! Then one night my friend was messing around and threw a brochure at me from out the window. It was a brochure for the [Dahn] Center. I called and made an appointment and met with Master Kim. I joined in August and have been hooked ever since. Dahn Yoga has provided me with a positive energy that makes me feel healthy and well. I finally found something that works for me!

Holy crap! Dahn Yoga cures MS? Is there nothing that Dahn Yoga can't do?

That Dahn Yoga

A couple of weeks ago, I was bitching in this very forum about the transformation of neighborhoods like mine. Specifically, I was lamenting about big chains moving in and supplanting smaller local businesses. I want to clarify that I'm not wholly averse to urban change; I recognize that urban landscapes are constantly transforming, emerging, decaying, revitalizing, etc. An area is what it is for an indeterminate period of time and then it becomes something else. For instance, I don't believe in the mythology of an Old New York which is supposedly being bastardized these days. Of course, New York isn't what it used to be. But it wasn't that before then and it will be something different in the future. Gentrification and the development that follows is an urban reality and anyone moving into a cheap neighborhood (in which they didn't grow up) is a part of it. So, the same is true of Central Square. I'm sure some local hipster was carving a scathing diatribe into a stone tablet back when Burger King moved in next to HiFi Pizza. (Incidentally, in a hilarious turn of events, that Burger King closed and the space is now occupied by an upscale,
$30-an-entree restaurant called Rendezvous. They didn't even physically alter the facade or the interior really. They just changed the color scheme and put in fancy tables and a bar. Is there anyway in hell anyone who has been to Central Square in the last year or before is going to go in and pay $30 for the rosemary infused lamb and $8 for a side of mash, when the spirit of the $3.95 whopper and fries meal is clearly still occupying the space? Is there any chance that this place will not close within 8 months?)

Basically, what I'm saying is that I hate seeing chains move in (he typed as he drank a large coffee from au bon pain). I just prefer to see local businesses thrive (like the coffee shop he stopped going to because of the 40 cent price differential and his boredom with the baristas). I don't have a problem with new locally owned businesses opening in my neighborhood.
That said, the editors at Von Trapper Keeper would like to officially welcome the arrival of Dahn Yoga, which recently opened a few blocks from my apartment. Can I just say that I love that Dahn Yoga? I don't like yoga, mind you, but I love that Dahn Yoga. I just wish that it would merge with the Buddhist Community Center down the street so that it would be God Dahn Yoga. I laugh every single time I walk by Dahn Yoga. I've never laughed walking by a Sunglasses Hut. That's all I'm saying.

So I walked by that Dahn Yoga shop (*giggle*) yesterday on my way to support another local shop, Gnomon Copy, by giving them my business - printing business cards to promote my website. Unfortunately for them, they're douchebags who made no effort to appear interested in my money, which they could have done simply by paying attention to what I was saying to them. And if there's one thing I hate more than the ubiquity of corporate chains, it's douchebags. So I went down the street to Kinkos and will be picking up my cards this afternoon. Am I a hypocrite? Perhaps, but ultimately, I don't give a Dahn.

Steelers.

To the Undisputed Champs (and their fans)

























(all pics from the Pittsburgh Post Gazette)

Viggo Mortensen

Last week when I picked up the John Doe cd, I noticed that he gave thanks in the liner notes to only 7 people, one of whom was Viggo Mortensen. I thought it was a little odd, but I knew that Viggo was a pretty progressive guy and figured maybe they hung out in LA back in the X days. And then I got my March 06 issue of Esquire in the mail today and Ol Viggonomics is the featured interview. Intriguing. Sure enough, the interview gave me my answer: he was actually married to Exene Cervenka, also of X fame, and they have a son together. They've since divorced but remain friendly, as she apparently does (or did 10 years ago) with John Doe. (Hey Exene, "why don't you ask your ex-husband how come he's so good at killing people") Viggo seems like one of those cool Hollywood people who's beyond the pollution of celebrity, which can easily turn people into idiots like Tom Cruise or reclusive psychos like Sean Penn (photo notwithstanding). He's on the short list of actors/resses that I'd like to meet. From the interview:

"Before becoming an actor, he was a published poet ... He also paints and takes photographs, many of which have been exhibited around Los Angeles. And then there are the music and spoken-word CDs that the actor creates in collaboration with the young man he describes as his best friend - his 18 year old son, Henry - and Buckethead ...Viggo has moved furniture, sold flowers on the street, even worked in a lead-smelting plant. And he's lived all over the world. He was born in Manhattan, but his American mother and Danish father moved the family to South America when he was still in diapers. Since then, he's lived in Venezuela, Argentina, Denmark, Los Angeles, and upstate New York ... In 1992, in a poem called "Edit", he described the powerlessness that comes, at times, with being an actor. Acting, he wrote, is a 'job completed for you by others in windowless rooms ... The man you were for one short season has been pruned, removed, to a well-groomed graveyard that smells like popcorn.' ... His approach to acting seems borderline pathological. On the set of Lord of the Rings, he slept for weeks in his costume, often outdoors. When he broke a tooth in a battle scene, he asked for superglue. When his car hit a rabbit, he scooped it up, roasted it, and ate it."

He's even more bohemian than the Dandy Warhols.


On an unrelated note, please enjoy this clip of osama bin laden on Family Guy.

24 hours from now, the Steelers could be in possession of the Vince Lombardi trophy...

gross misunderstanding

I’ve been enjoying Chuck Klosterman’s Super Blog this week. I haven’t read any of his books; I’ve only read the occasional article on espn.com’s page2 and his columns in the 2 issues of Esquire magazine that I have received so far (dad’s xmas gift subscription), but he seems to be a clever, if slightly pompous, writer with a good grasp on music, sports, etc. Reminds me of what the Sports Guy used to write like before he started referencing Jimmy Kimmel and the Killers in every other article. Shades of Nick Horby with a touch of the Dave Eggers’ self consciousness? Anyways, these from the most recent post:

“I eventually left the restaurant in good spirits, only to be verbally confronted by two mooks in a 4x4 Chevy Silverado; they were both about 22 years old and appeared to be looking for potential rape victims who might enjoy listening to The Cult. "Go steal!" yelled the unshaven chap in the passenger's seat, pointing his sausage-like index finger in the general direction of my jowls. "Go steal! Go steal!" His command seemed wildly incendiary: Why did is fellow want me to commit a crime? Was this an attempt to foster chaos? Was he unconsciously asking me to join their pick-up posse (and to likewise embrace their shoplifting bloodlust)? Were these the kind of insurgents who initiated the 1999 WTO riots in Seattle? What could this mean for the future of Detroit?

It was at this point that I noticed their truck was covered with hydrocycloids decals, and that one of them was a wearing Jack Lambert throwback jersey, and that their truck had Pennsylvania license plates, and that the unshaven ruffian was actually yelling, "Go Steel! Go Steel!" But this is an important lesson for all of us: There is nothing in this world more dangerous than homonyms.”

And later

“In his excellent book "Among the Thugs," American writer Bill Buford explains a conversation he had with a man named R. McAllister, the superintendent of police in Sutherland, England. They were talking about European soccer hooliganism, but McAllister had a lot of questions about NFL games in the U.S. "Am I mistaken," he asked, "or is it the case that there is seating for everyone at every American football match?" He was also shocked to learn that football games last three hours without police interference, and that no one ever dies watching a football game. In England, soccer is a "lifestyle-driven" sport, so lower-class troglodytes use the games as an excuse for weekly, temporary revolution. In even crazier countries, soccer matches are "game-driven" events, where the outcome on the scoreboard means everything: this is why Columbian soccer player Andres Escobar was shot 12 times in 1994 after scoring an accidental goal for the United States in a 2-1 World Cup loss. But here, things are different. The Super Bowl is an "event-driven" event, which means people care less about its symbolism and its result; they mostly just care that it exists. That want to see what it looks like, and they want to be around when it happens -- but they're ultimately passive. They don't want to disrupt the event, because the event is everything.”

These remind me of two stories of my own: a tale of gross misunderstanding and a tale of a chaotic South American soccer match I went to with my brother and cousin. I don’t have time to relay both of them right now so, I’ll give you the gross misunderstanding and save the chaotic soccer crowd story for later.

I was hanging out at one of those cheesy Faneuil Hall bars a few years back with Adam and a few friends, when we ran into a friend of Adam’s from UMass. I had never met the guy before, but he seemed like a nice enough guy, the kind of bespectacled dork that we were/would hang out with. We were all shootin the shit for a while, but it was a bit loud in the bar. So this guy, we’ll call him Ed, so Ed leaned towards me and apropos of nothing asked if it’s wrong to be attracted to a girl with a black guy. I turned and looked over at the bar and there was a girl standing there next to a black guy. Now I didn’t know this guy at all but, being a former Freud scholar, I’m always up for fielding random psychosexualethical questions like this so I replied with something to the effect of “well, no I guess not. It‘s probably some sort of subconscious penis size envy thing, where you imagine yourself fucking her with a big dick”. To which he responded, after a genuinely confused and introspective pause, “wow, that’s fascinating that you went there with that. I don’t know man, I gotta tell you, I have a pretty big dick.” At this point, I was thinking alright, that’s great, pal. Don’t look at me like I’m the weird one. You’re the one who asked me. I’m just throwing theories out there. But I said, “hmm. Ok. Well, maybe it’s not a direct penis size envy thing, but more like a societal construct thing; like society has built up this image of black men as being well-hung sex machines and you’re attracted to the image of a black man, who you are not, with that white woman, who you would normally be expected to be a possible mate for…” Again with the confused, thoughtful pause, and then, “god, this is really interesting. I have no idea what you’re talking about …” At this point, I did interrupt and say, “listen, I’m just throwing ideas out there. You’re the one who brought it up”. He replied with “no no, yeah, it’s cool. I just find it intriguing that you read all that into me being attracted to a girl with a black eye.”

Ah. I see. I looked back over at the bar and the black guy was gone and the girl was now facing us, sporting a choice shiner. “Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. You said black eye!! I thought you said black guy. Oh, ok. That makes sense now… So, um, yes. It is wrong to be attracted to a girl with a black eye.”

Now that’s what I call a gross misunderstanding.

The Polamankle

Cuuuuuuuh rap. Troy Polamalu sprained his ankle in practice yesterday and is listed as probable for the Super Bowl. Not good for the Steelers. I would be very surprised if he didn't play, but without his crazy, frenetic mobility at 100% the vaunted Pittsburgh D might be in trouble. Hopefully this is just a ploy by defensive coordinator and John Spencer lookalike, Dick LeBeau, to trick the Seahawks into testing him.

[edit: Kendra has just alerted me to a very good point: "even with a sprained ankle, he can still inspire hair envy (always a powerful tool when the opposing QB is balding)" Excellent point. He might be as effective just standing on the sideline with his helmet off. I'd prefer him to wreak havoc in the secondary, but hair mockery is a decent consolation prize.]






48 hours until the Pregame begin ...