July 2010

Earlier this week, I experienced a rare moment of epiphany—which has left me with some problems to solve. Though certainly grateful for the amazing realization (which should have seemed obvious to me—don’t we all look at our epiphanies and think, “Why didn’t I already know this?” Maybe we did but we just couldn’t admit it to ourselves…), I now feel like I need some help in acting on it. Maybe you have the answer I need.

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I might as well just quit now. I don't have much faith that I'll find something more Internet-y than this. What is this? It's Miss Hannah Minx, the nexus of all modern geekdom. Seriously, I can't believe this actually exists. It (and I'm referring to Miss Hannah Minx as an "it" because I believe it may have been devised in some sort of laboratory) is a busty, gothy Japanophile who wants nothing more than to spend time with you. While speaking Japanese. And being adorable. Her 100,000+ subscribers, millions of page views and almost uniformly positive comments threads confirm that Miss Hannah Minx is exactly what people who live on the Internet want.

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After spending so much time contemplating cities, wars, politics and economics, I realized that I had lost sight of some of the more enduring aspects of the North American continent. The natural beauty, for example. The truth is, this land of variety and abundance is both blessed and cursed by that very variety and abundance. All of its problems in the aforementioned subjects of contemplation can be traced back to how people have approached America's bounty. After searching for a particular check-in station in a vast tract of under-serviced land in the Federation of Free States for half a day, the crew and I decided to break our routine and set up a camp. We chose a spot along the Platte River, a place that looked like it hadn't been disturbed by people in years. This would prove to be a peaceful respite in between very troubled periods in our making of this film.

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crappy MS Paint art and thrown-together emergency script by Michael Sarko

As much as I disliked the old governmentally prescribed food pyramid, at least it made a kind of sense.  The new food pyramid (I'm inclined to put it in "scare quotes" and call it a "pyramid," but I shall refrain) is so clearly the work of a bureaucrat, it makes me want to bury my head in my hands.  It's so bad, it should come with its own Powerpoint presentation.

For one thing, the original food pyramid WAS a pyramid.  You had different sizes of blocks which stacked on top of each other.  To make a pyramid.  It made logical sense, and visual sense as well.  

Okay, so the base of the pyramid was this gigantic slab of grains.  Which was sacrilege to the carb-haters.   But what would you expect from the United States Department of AGRICULTURE?  That's what they're for - to get you to eat plants.


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Aside from being a current source of absurd heat, Virginia is famous for being the very first colony of the British Empire in North America. As such, it has had more time than anywhere else in the nation to both mature and absorb the inherent craziness of the United States. My own recent visit to the Richmond area got me wondering what kind of weirdness I'd find on its craigslist page, especially considering that the region itself is like a living List. The multiple Colonial Era tourist traps are like the most ridiculous Activities ads made flesh and the city has an arbitrary (not to mention wholly undeserved) obsession with pancakes that echoes some of the more Spergin' aspects of the List. A quick jaunt through Richmond's actual Activities page doesn't skimp on the crazy.

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A lot of people have heard that Kate Gosselin and her kids are coming up to Alaska to go camping with me and my family. What they don't know is the true reason why Kate is coming north with her vile brood. The real story is that I've got a big bone to pick with that harpy and her stupid hair extensions. If we met on her turf we'd probably get hauled off by the fuzz for something stupid and liberal like "child endangerment". That's why we're gonna be throwing down in the middle of the Alaskan wilderness. Even if someone called a ranger, which they probably wouldn't because we settle our problems like warriors in the land of the midnight sun, it'd take the jerk pigs a couple hours to get where we're going. Two vicious hockey moms are going to enter the forest but only one is going to come out. Here's a hint for you gamblers in the room: I've got an appointment the next day I plan on keeping.

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life after IP Address DoomsdayPut on your party hats, pop the cork on that bottle of Dom Perignon, tell your boss to go consummate his relationship with his fountain pen and break out that emergency reserve of cocaine-dusted hookers because we've hit an Internet milestone. Well, at least we're about to. In just a few months (by current estimates from very estimate-y people) we're going to run out of IP addresses. For all ya'll who live out in the sticks, that means we're short on the numbers, dots and magicals that make the glowy think-box work. That's right, while there is a functionally infinite variety of domain names for use on the Internet, there's a very limited number of meaningful device addresses that actually allow your computer to access all that porn and pirated music, and probably some business-related stuff, too.

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Apparently a lot of people do!  But why?  The hysteria over the state of her hystera is perplexing to those of us who have little interest in the reproductive decisions of complete strangers.  The rumor mill has been churning overtime in Aniston's case, who has been reported to be pregnant by various random sources and tabloids for months now.

The first thing that's problematic about the constant Aniston pregnancy rumors is that most of them rely on visible confirmation.  In other words, the fabled "baby bump."  In an actress as greyhound thin as Jennifer Aniston, a large meal could end up looking like a baby bump, given the right sheer top and a fortuitous gust of wind.

Since when has it become acceptable to stare at someone's slightly-less-than-concave belly and proclaim her pregnant?  For pity's sake, people.  Get a grip!  And stop assuming that a half pound weight gain indicates pregnancy!


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Lenore Najinsky runs the Blue View Hotel in Santa Monica, California, PCAU. In addition to providing our entire crew with rooms and a complementary breakfast, Lenore sat down with us to talk about her family's long history in the region.

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Over the past decade American air travel has become a pretty daunting task. What was once a mode of luxury and leisure has become a heavily trafficked and frequently esoteric experience. There's a ritual to making it through airport security smoothly and a number of ways to avoid the most common headaches of traveling by air. Here are a few tips for becoming a real pro of the plane experience.

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Pain and Negativity CAN Convert Into Happiness!

To some people, the idea of self-help or self improvement is not very REAL. Somehow they just never think in those terms. They never thought that they could DO something to
change their lives to the better.

This is a selection from a much longer post in the Community section. As is fairly obvious, it's a long-winded ad for some kind of quasi-spiritual support group. Aside from wondering how exactly group therapy counts as self-help, this post got me curious about the Recover page on the craigslist forums. If it isn't abundantly clear by now (or if you're just new to this column), I didn't have high hopes for the List's ability to actually help people with real problems. Going to craigslist to make your life happier and more normal is like to trying to get your rocks off to the Cathy comic strip. You can certainly try but you'll probably be worse off for either outcome.

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It seems like every month now some new team of marine biologists releases a bunch of freaky pictures of all the newly discovered species of monster they found a mile below the surface of the ocean. They're always quick to remind us of just how little we understand those mostly unexplored regions of the planet and how much we stand to learn if we can manage to avoid destroying our world's many and varied ecosystems. I always enjoy looking at these photos of terrifying fish that glow in the dark and probably feed on deep-seated childhood anxieties, but I'm starting to get concerned about the marketing ramifications of "new" nature. It's only a matter of time before some direct marketing guru or whatever they're calling shameless hucksters these days gets his hands on some product of the deep sea trenches and starts selling it as a trendy curative. People certainly do enough of that with obscure tropical fruits like today's subject, the Mangosteen.

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written by Michael Sarko, art by Gina Befera

the Barefoot Bandit's next targetI'd be remiss if I didn't at least comment on the whole Colton "Barefoot Bandit" Harris-Moore story, even though it would just make this blog another media source that has piled onto this complicated and generally mishandled story. Traditional news coverage in America, being the idiotic dregs of our country's wanton middle brow-ism, has actually entertained the idea that some people see Harris-Moore as a folk hero or even a Robin Hood figure. Of course, those news agencies mostly mention Harris-Moore's prodigious Facebook following just so they can dismiss it like a bunch of middle class fuddy duddies in a 80's music video. In fact, the most shocking part of the Barefoot Bandit story is the way the story is being told and will likely be told in the future.

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puh-rikI'm mostly in favor of the integration of innovation into our everyday lives. I'm one of those people who gets a warm, tingly feeling from the use of video screens to advertise things on city streets and the fact that regular people get to walk around with personal GPS maps that would have made high-ranking military officials wet themselves just 15 years ago. Though the technological advancement of everyday life comes at a price. Because the way we communicate with each other changes over time, each generation has to essentially re-learn even the most basic social skills in a new and increasingly disconnected context. Furthermore, as gadgets ostensibly make our lives easier, they also make our baseline comfort more dependent on the complex products of society rather than what grows naturally in the world. But really, neither of these things are particularly annoying, even if they can have serious implications for our future as a species.

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I'm sorry, Discovery Channel's hopelessly lame attempt to have an Internet presence, that didn't even begin to explain the cultural monstrosity that is the vuvuzela. For those of you who are blissfully unaware of the vuvuzela and its awful contribution to society, it is a long, now typically plastic horn that is capable of making only one note and that note is a sour one. South African soccer... er, football... um... hold on a second. On the one hand, I recognize that a lot of my readers are American like me, so calling the sport "football", however accurate, is still a bit confusing. I also recognize that the Internet is an international place, so it may be appropriate to call the sport "football" in deference to the rest of the world. But since I absolutely hate this silly argument and I've never seen the lasting appeal of that sport, I've decided to henceforth refer to it as Kickie-Snore. Right, now where were we? The vuvuzela has found its way into the global vocabulary by way of South African Kickie-Snore fans who brought them along for the World Cup. Originally the instrument was crafted out of the horn of a wild beast called a kudu and was a method for calling far-away tribesman back to the village. So, it's pretty much a South African shofar only not as good.

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written by Michael Sarko, art by Gina Befera

This guy's one of the better as-of-yet unknown producers. In the clip above Oddisee explains growing up in the DC area while detailing the impetus for this style in general and specifically on upcoming work.

There's been a lot of talk in the media lately about whether or not I'm going to ever run for elected office again. The race for the 2012 presidency is just around the corner and there are 47 other US states of which I have yet to be Governor. It seems like they'll give just about anyone a Senate seat these days and no one, I mean no one, pays attention to the House of Representatives. I could get a House seat with no problem and camp out there for decades if I wanted to. But that's the rub, isn't it? Why in blazes would I want to? Let's break it down, shall we?

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Dar! A Super Girly Top Secret Comic Diary Vol 1 & 2- One of the best reads I’ve picked up in a while, although I already read most of the content online anyway. It’s nice to just sit down with both volumes though and I really like to support Erika Moen, partly because she’s one of the nicest creators I’ve ever met. Dar is a fantastic autobiographical series that follows Erika over a six year length, starting when she was a 20 year old lesbian artist and follows her as she marries a boy from England and becomes a full time cartoonist. Great humor, honestly, art, and storytelling make this an awesome read and worth every penny. If you want to check out a sampler go over to the Dar! site where you can also order the book directly from Erika. A

 

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Most of the graffiti archeologists have discovered from ancient Rome have been messages from drunks outside taverns and whore houses about how frequently they've pissed on a particular wall or the epic number of prostitutes they've schtupped over the last month. These bits of scrawl are a counterpart to the classical image of Rome's golden age. While the great orators were dropping some of their illest rhymes on the senate, a teeming city of complete morons held itself together with little more than the grease in their hair and enough bread and circus to ensure they would only spend a fraction of their lives sober and attentive. A very similar contrast occurs on a daily basis on CNN.com. While the quality of the news on that website isn't quite what it ought to be, it's respectable enough to make its comments boards seem laughably incongruous. The CNN article forums are, without a doubt, some of the most impressive collections of abject stupidity on the Internet today. Like fruit flies around a rotting apple, idiots of every stripe swarm the CNN.com comments threads where they hold back nothing.

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The endless weirdness of Brian Jonestown Massacre front-man Anton Newcombe has been pretty well documented, mostly through the band’s extensive discography which finds him accompanied by a revolving door of Los Angeles’ psych music cognoscenti. The 2004 documentary Dig! worked to elucidate reasons for Newcombe’s changing company – and it did. The film details inter-band problems, the dissolution of friendships and whatever ever else rock bands go through.

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Something strange happened in 2008. In January of that year, Nick Carr began filming Paul Blart: Mall Cop with writer/star Kevin James in Massachusetts. A few months later in New Mexico, Jody Hill began filming Observe and Report, his follow-up to the cult comedy The Foot Fist Way. Both are movies about overweight, socially inept mall security guards experiencing an existential crisis, but that's where their similarities end.

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