In English (with Aromatic Subtitles)

A British film called "Sex Lives of the Potato Men" is also being called "a sump of untreated dung," a "master class in nauseous ineptitude" and many other fancy-pants insults you'd never be able to muster in a thousand years. The outcry from critics, editors and politicians alike has people debating if this comedy is the worst British movie ever made.

Why the furor? Seems they're upset that a movie featuring onscreen nose-picking, piles of dog feces and masturbation aided by edible spreads was given half of its budget by the U.K. Film Council, which is funded by lottery money.

From the International Herald-Tribune story:

Julie Kirkbride, the culture spokeswoman for the Conservative Party, told that newspaper that while "you can produce any old rubbish with your own money," members of the lottery-ticket-buying public "don't want to feel their money is being wasted."

Because when I think "highly concerned about smart use of money," I think "lottery ticket buyer."

Gee...

On facing pages of the LA Times from Sunday 21 March 2004:

Page A26:
Headline: "Carbon Dioxide Levels Rising Faster; Buildup Sets Record"

"Carbon dioxide... has reached record-high levels in the atmosphere after growing at an accelerated pace in the last year..."

".... mostly from burning of coal, gasoline and other fossil fuels..."

"... Asked to explain the stepped-up rate, climatologists were cautious, saying data needed to be further evaluated."

"... The United States, the world's biggest carbon dioxide emitter, signed the [Kyoto Protocol] agreement but did not ratify it, and the Bush administration has since withdrawn U.S. support..."

Page A27:
Full-page ad:

"AN AMERICAN REVOLUTION"

"... 2004 CHEVY SILVERADO 1/2-TON EXT CAB LS 2WD"

"... DO YOU HAVE THE RIGHT TRUCK?"

Today's FOCR: "Turn the Page," Bob "Like a Rock" Seger, Back in '72

Five O'Clock Rocks

Today's LA Times was the first I'd heard of rocks being mailed back to Uluru, or The Australian Outback Monolith Formerly Known As Ayers Rock. (However, international news seems to have picked up on this a month ago.)

Souvenir chunks of the sacred Aboriginal site are now being sent back by tourists haunted by guilt or a perceived streak of bad luck. Newly respectful -- or fearful of the Aboriginal bogeyman* -- foreign filchers are forfeiting their forbidden formations.

So. Anybody got Donald Rumsfeld's email address? I've got an article I'd like to forward him... well, two, actually.

Today's FOCR: "Rock of Ages," Def Leppard, Pyromania

* Abobogeynal? Bogeymanimal?

If I Can Just Say Something

I'd like to be earnest for just a moment. Perhaps you say, "Oh, no. When he gets earnest is when he most embarrasses himself."

To which I'd say, "Ouch. If I can earnestly tell you how that felt, that was the most--." Then my vision would swim with tears. I would emit a quiet, high-pitched sound. Lurching up from my chair, I'd try to leave the room with a flimsy composure, but not before I weave in the hallway and snag my shirt on a picture hook, tearing the sleeve. "Oh, great," I'd wail. "Just perfect!" Then I'd try to slam the TV room door behind me. But the house has settled in the recent rain, and the door frame has gotten even more misaligned. So it'd bounce back open, and I'd have to debate extending the spectacle by returning to the door to close it with that lifting thing one has to do.

So... good call. Yet, I press on.

In 1996, the Suzuki Motor Corporation sued Consumers Union in connection to an unfavorable 1988 review of the Suzuki Samurai, a.k.a. Tumblin' Dice. Despite overwhelming evidence that the case is groundless and should be thrown out -- as a U.S. District Court has done once already -- the lawsuit has just been sent back to trial by a sharply divided Ninth Circuit.

In this day, with government agencies handing out free passes to any company that shows up at the door with a sack and a Boba Fett mask, an independent voice like CU is crucial. Sure, Consumer Reports has an odd crush on the Kenmore brand I've never shared. But it is independent and objective in an otherwise byzantine media web of corporate connections and influence.

The lawsuit is draining resources from a non-profit organization that should be spending its money on determining if in a house fire our jammies will cook us like Ball Park Franks, or if that breadmaker is a... wait, wait, I've got it... a "deadmaker." Ahh. I knew it was there.

If Suzuki v. Consumers Union continues, it could have a chilling effect on consumer protection. Unfavorable reviews will be become too financially dangerous to publish. You can imagine the result...

A snowy November afternoon. Heading out to the mall in the car, an innocent family is completely unaware that their trip is about to lead them to this kind of horrific wreck.

I urge you to read this, and if convinced, write Suzuki and General Motors (20-percent owner of Suzuki) and demand they drop the lawsuit.

Don't look here for the email address. One needs to write a letter. Recent events prove the difference in attention paid...

email a virus to Congress = nothing
mail a virus to Congress = hoo boy!
Please spend 74 cents and send two letters. For your c+p convenience, I have included the letters I wrote:

Mr. Rick Suzuki, President
American Suzuki Motor Corporation
3251 E. Imperial Highway
Brea, CA 92821-6722

Dear Mr. Suzuki:

I am writing to express my strong objection to Suzuki's litigation against Consumers Union in the Samurai matter. I urge you to cease this groundless and damaging effort immediately.

The independent and impartial work of Consumers Union is needlessly threatened by your company's baseless claims, which have the potential to stifle objective consumer research for fear that any unfavorable review could trigger similar action.

Your company's actions threaten to make America even less safe than it was during the time the Samurai was being sold here.

If Suzuki does not halt its lawsuit against CU, I will be forced to avoid all Suzuki products, and to urge anyone else who will listen to do the same.

In addition, I will boycott the Suzuki Method, just in case your company had anything to do with it, in which case I would presume it could also be hazardous. So thanks for ruining the violin for me as well.

Sincerely,
[your name]

================

Mr. Rick Wagoner, President and CEO
General Motors Corporation
100 Renaissance Center
Detroit, MI 48265-3000

Dear Mr. Wagoner:

I am writing to express my strong objection to Suzuki's litigation against Consumers Union in the Samurai matter. As GM owns 20 percent of Suzuki, I urge you to use your influence to cease Suzuki's groundless and damaging effort immediately.

The independent and impartial work of Consumers Union is needlessly threatened by Suzuki's baseless claims, which have the potential to stifle objective consumer research for fear that any unfavorable review could trigger similar action.

Suzuki's actions threaten to make America even less safe than it was during the time the Samurai was being sold here.

If Suzuki does not halt its lawsuit against CU, by association I will be forced to avoid all GM products, and to urge anyone else who will listen to do the same.

In addition, I will boycott major league sports, since I understand that many teams have a GM. Furthermore, I will have no choice but to avoid genetically modified (GM) products. So thanks for ruining baseball and apple pie for me -- at least this American will still have hot dogs left.

Related question: Is the Oscar Mayer Wienermobile made by GM?

Sincerely,
[your name]

Today's FOCR: "Bad Motor Scooter," Montrose, Montrose

SHAGGY: [FEARFUL] ZOINKS! [SOUND OF RUNNING]

via Berry's World via Scooter:

A secret panel at the Department of Education has decided to withhold closed-captioning grants for a list of certain "inappropriate" shows. Like Bewitched. Scooby-Doo. Law & Order. The Simpsons. NASCAR. And almost 200 others, according to the Palm Beach Post editorial.

Great. Yet another Bush telling us to read lips.

Today's FOCR: "4'33"," John Cage, comp.

(About that song link...)

Rock the Quote

Stumbled across this while searching, and it reminded me of someone.

From the cowardice that dare not face new truths,
From the laziness that is contented with half truth,
From the arrogance that thinks it knows all truth,
Good Lord, deliver me.

-- Kenyan prayer, quoted in The Oxford Book of Prayer



Today's FOCR: "Elected," Alice Cooper, Billion Dollar Babies

God Help Me, I Won't Make That "Houston, She Had a Brablem" Joke.
Whoops.
It Was a Restraint Malfunction.

Dear MoveOn.org:

So the key is... you gotta spice it up for CBS.

Call the commercial "Get Off the Deficit Teat," or "Bush's Debt Lasts a Lot Longer Than a Four-Hour Porkpole," or "Bush Doesn't Need To Ask His Brother How To Fuck Our Kids," or like that. You know?

Sizzle and steak, baby.

Today's FOCR: "Dammit Janet," Rocky Horror Picture Show soundtrack

Dear Rupert: A Quick Thanks for the “Don’t Have a Cow, Man” Beach Towel. Enclosed, Please Find a “Don’t Have a Cow, Man” Beach Towel (Soiled)

A recent LA CityBeat interview with Harry Shearer at least partially answers a question I had all Iraq-war long:

Q: How the hell did the staff of The Simpsons feel about working for Fox, histrionic fanners of the highest war flames?

A: (Shrug) Whaddaya gonna do?

Also, dishy scoopy dish: Fox is cheap. Harry no likee sub-$15 birthday presents.

Today's FOCR: "Gotta Serve Somebody," Bob Dylan, Slow Train Coming

Product Review
SkipDoctor CD & DVD Repair Device
Digital Innovations (retail $29.87)

Note: As a service to the FOCR reader (and I do mean the reader) I will occasionally review products of interest to the music lover. In no way does compensation change hands: I purchase the products at retail price, and am not in contact in any manner with the manufacturers or their distributors. Just a service from one consumer to another.

It was with more than a little excitement that I brought home the highly rated SkipDoctor, a hand-cranked CD & DVD polisher that claims to resurrect scratched and dirty discs. Universally praised, some seem to revere it in the way some do Lourdes water or copper bracelets.

Boy, was I disappointed.

To be fair, it has its good points. The somewhat gun-like shape is still too round for cops to mistake for a weapon as you run through the neighborhood making your PSHEW PSHEW noises at night. The makers also thoughtfully make the spinny wheel thing a neon green for further protection. But my praise ends there.

The cranking has none of the satisfying noise you’d expect. It sounds nothing like an Evel Knievel Stunt Cycle – it’s practically silent! The thing you put the disc onto looks like a ninja star you could shoot if you cranked real hard and pushed some button, but no dice. It stays in place. Those tiny jagged edges on it wouldn’t hurt my brother if I threw the wheel at him harder than I did. Totally stupid. And boring.

The polishing spray tasted terrible. It falls somewhere between Binaca and New Car Smell, but it manages to combine only the worst of those flavors. And they barely give you any. That pump bottle probably runs out after like ten or fifteen sprays under my tongue. What a rip.

Not tested: CD & DVD polishing features.

Today's FOCR: "Big Fat Funky Booty," Spin Doctors, Turn It Upside Down

AP Headline: Pope Likes Mel Gibson's Film on Christ's Passion

[REVIVING WITH A MOAN]
Ow... oh, my head... what happened? How'd I get here on the floor? The last thing I remember, I was reading the news. [PICKS UP PAPER] Maybe it was this: "Carson Daly Likes 'CARSON DALY ROCKS!!!' Web Site." Whaaa? Ohhhhh.... [THUD]

Today's FOCR: "Shock Me," KISS, Love Gun

(DING!) You’re Now Free To Hack About the Country

It’s unbelievable that the airlines will claim they are in such bad financial straits, when they clearly saved so much money by bulk printing about five thrabillion paper tickets back in 1987. Why else would there still be a little Y/N box for “SMOKE” on them, a good ten years after the last smoke was smoked on a smoking flight?

Could there really be some poor puffer out there who is still scanning every ticket with a sweaty gambler’s fever, hoping that Thursday’s Houston-to-Cincinnati run could be The One? “C’mon, baby… daddy needs a new pair of lungs! Is it…? Aw, nuts.”

Today's FOCR: "Home Sweet Home," Motley Crue, Theatre of Pain

Albums Which in the Past Have Caused Me To Exercise with Embarrassing Fury [and Vegas odds on it happening again]

Smashing Pumpkins, Gish [1 in 3]

Van Halen, Women and Children First [even]

Shabba Ranks, X-tra Naked [1 in 1200]

Today's FOCR: "Loss of Control," Van Halen, Women and Children First

”All team members: wolf in aisle five…”

A reader [SFX: surprise-denoting BOING!] forwarded this story in response to the last posting about the Wal-Mart trampling. According to this and other reports, Patricia Vanlester has had what would most optimistically be called central Florida’s worst streak of shopping mishaps. Viewed more realistically, it could be suggested to the IRS that they check her income tax forms for deductions on vocational expenses like neckbraces and Chevy Chase movie rentals.

It certainly makes her case seem ready to be cut down faster than Wal-Mart's price on a gallon of Vlasic pickles. However, some interesting things to keep in mind.

1.) I hate frivolous lawsuits as much as the next decaying, child-molesting pop star. They are a scourge of our society. This doesn’t mean it didn’t happen exactly as asserted, as unlikely as it now seems.

2.) Given the Evil Friday atmosphere created by stores like this, the injury seemed extremely plausible. That attests to a truth behind any lie involved here, which is certainly why the original story spread like wildfire.

3.) My main point about the incident – the siren – remains. See (2).

4.) “Paramedics who assessed her condition … determined her injuries were serious enough to fly her by helicopter to Halifax Medical Center.” If she was faking, then what the hell kind of paramedics they got down there? I’ve had priests and English teachers who were better at spotting fake comas.

Despite it all, one thing remains true:

Florida: Home of the Flim-Flam Since November 2000!

Many thanks to the reader. I shall comb previous posts for “President Dewey” references.

Today's FOCR: "Fall Down Easy," Uncle Tupelo, Still Feel Gone

Make Merry, Throw an Elbow

Folks who get their news online may have seen this story about a woman trampled by fellow Wal-Mart shoppers as the doors were thrown open on Evil Friday, a.k.a. the Christmas shopping opener.

In the 6 a.m. blitz for $29 DVD players, the 41-year-old woman was knocked down and trampled by other consumers, who continued shopping their way around her unconscious form. The final cinematic twist: arriving paramedics found a DVD player underneath her body.

They run this kind of story to make you cluck your tongue and decide that consumerism has ruined society, just before you check Amazon for sub-$30 DVD players you can score without that kind of hassle.

But there's the part of the story, glossed over to get to the condemnation of the crowd, that I can't get out of my head.

Patricia VanLester had her eye on a $29 DVD player, but when the siren blared at 6 a.m. Friday announcing the start to the post-Thanksgiving sale...

Whoa, whoa. Wait. "Siren"?

With a group outside obviously insane enough to camp out well before 6 a.m., the Wal-Mart blows a siren? Why not just put pillow-suits on their non-unionized grocery workers and send them outside to throw raw steaks around?

Wal-Mart Stores spokeswoman Karen Burk said she had never heard of a such a melee during a sale. "We are very disappointed this happened," Burk said. "We want her to come back as a shopper."

...in her next life. Mwoo-hah-ah-ah!

Today's FOCR: "Ballroom Blitz," Krokus, The Blitz

Dumbing Down the House

I never fail to be amazed by the number of ways I've heard corporate types encrypt a simple four-word phrase into a paragraph of demographic analysis.

The phrase: "I don't get it."

It's always expressed as concern for the audience's base of knowledge, but do you hear that Kodak carousel click and rumble, and see dust floating across a beam of light? That's them, projecting their own dumbitude onto that teeming mass of morons out there. The ones who disavow anything that happened before 1998, anywhere other than on MTV, to anyone but P. Diddy.

Not us -- we're cool, of course. We just have to keep our audience in mind. Now, here when you talk about Triumph the Insult Comic Dog, why do you mention Don Rickles? What's the connection there?

Why won't people admit to not knowing anymore? Think of the great things ruined by the inability to say "I don't know":

Q: Knock knock.
A: Gee, do people really knock anymore? I think our audience probably just uses their cell phones when they pull up outside.

===

Q: What's the difference between a dwarf magician and chlamydia?
A: What if it were... SARS? I think our audience will know that better.
Q: No, you see, it specifically has to be an STD, because it's a play on words between "cunning runt" and--
A2 (speakerphone): Or what did Pedro on "The Real World" have?
A: Oh, that's great! Nice and current. We could use that!

===

Costello: If I mentioned the third baseman's name, who did I say is playing third?
Abbott: No, Who's playing first.
Costello: Never mind first. I wanna know, what's the guy's name on third.
Abbott: No, What's on second.
Costello: I'm not askin' you who's on second.
Abbott: Who's on first.
Costello: Our audience is long gone by now.
Abbott: He's on thir-- What?
Costello: Too many questions.
Abbott: Lou, what are you doing? We're on the radio.
Costello: Radio?! (SNORTS) No, no, no.
Abbott: Listen, you fuck-drunk retard. You embarrass me once more in front of...
Costello: ...Three commuters and a security guard? If you really want to reach the kids these days, you-- Aaack. Choking. Me.

Today's FOCR: "This Is Pretty Funny. I Mean, I Get It. But After All, Most of Our Audience Probably Wasn't Even Born in 1987 :>) What If It Were Linkin Park?," The Replacements, Pleased To Meet Me

Yes, I did. Yet I shame myself and my dorkified youth by missing what I missed.

The lyrics you leave incomplete are returned to you sounding either like "Mad Libs" for burnouts or "Match Game" for depressives.


"Like a drifter, I was born to BLANK BLANK"... Betty White!

Today's FOCR: "Blank Frank," Brian Eno, Here Come the Warm Jets

P.S. Click the Gene Rayburn picture to visit a pretty awesome site. The music gets a little trippy after a while, though.

"God" Damn, It's Good To Be Home

I traveled quite a bit over the past few weeks, causing a break in posting which I'm sure disappointed the three of you mightily.

This great country of ours, I tell you, it brings me a lot of joy. Ricky "Travelin' Man" Nelson may have had one lovely girl waiting in every port, but I've got my own things I count on while crossing America. Things which bring me my own kind of "homeland security."

No matter the town, I know:

* If it's Tuesday, somewhere on the radio is a Twofer Tuesday.

* If it's October, somewhere on the radio is a celebration of Rocktober.

[What other month can claim that kind of smooth twist? "Groovember?" Get out.]

* If it's a Tuesday in October, my head will explode with rocked-out joy.

* If it's a diner, there will be a breakfast special called "Deuces" something, involving pairs of eggs, sausages, toast, etc. These never, though, come with two orange juices.

* If it's a diner, and I ask for something "venti," they will punch me, as they should.

* If it's a public restroom, the hand dryer will be tactically etched to read PUSH BUTT and RUB HANDS UNDER ARM.

* If it's a late-model Volkswagen, it's in a hurry and sees you as an obstacle.

* If it's a dry cleaner, any requested turnaround time is like asking to rend the very fabric of time and space. I could ask to have my clothes back by 2007, and I'd be met with a Scotty-like plea for reason. "Two pants and shirt, Cap'n! The Martinizer's on the brink as she is -- I kinna do 't!"

* If it's signage involving quotation marks, it's going to be a laugher. A loose cannon with a Sharpie will always try for the five-dollar punctuation and come back with four singles and change.

The best was the front window of a bar on Foster Avenue in Chicago. Amid the posted bucket o' beer specials, the painter exhorted heavenly homeland protection thusly:

"GOD" BLESS AMERICA

It could be a stinging piece of bitter philosophic sarcasm. Or the guy could just be "an" idiot.

Today's FOCR: (Quoth) "The Raven," Alan Parsons Project, Tales of Mystery and Imagination

"Home again, home again, jiggidy-jig! Gooood evening, J.F!"

In days of old, survival instinct was riding a horse you didn't think would last, over land you didn't think was friendly, drinking water you didn't know wouldn't kill you, just because you had to, elements be damned.

Compare with yesterday, when I drove a rental Kia through burning California hills, eating a double bacon cheeseburger I didn't know wouldn't cause incontinence, just because I had to get out of Las Vegas, cancelled flight be damned.

I'm a cowboy / On a steel-and-molded-fiberglass horse I ride...

Today's FOCR: "Burnin' Sky," Bad Company, Burnin' Sky

Making iTunes for Windows is like putting Sinista Chrome mags on a Ford Windstar.

Sure, it can be done...

Today's FOCR: "What Do You Do For Money Honey," AC/DC, Back in Black

Baby Steps Into the Non-Baseball World

Had to share a joke I heard this week:

An engineer sees his colleague riding toward him on a brand new bicycle.

"Hey, pal," says the first engineer. "Nice bike! Where'd you get it?"

"The most incredible thing just happened to me," the second engineer beams. "I was walking through the park, and this beautiful woman rode by me on her bike. She turns around and stops right in front of me. She gets off her bike, walks up to me, and tears off all her clothes."

"Yeah?" prompts the first. "Then what?"

"Then she says, 'Take what you like.'"

A version involving Dick Cheney, a woman in a burka, and a barrel of crude was not completed by press time.

Today's FOCR: "Bicycle Race," Queen, Jazz

Chicago Expat Report

From my voicemail last night:

"Message received today at 7:22 PM from phone number 310-xxx-xxxx:

[Sounds of a bar] 'Shoot. Me. Now. Shoot me now.'

End of messages."

Foul and Unbalanced

Fox Sports wanted blood last night. There's no other explanation.

It wasn't enough to identify The Fan onscreen. It wasn't enough to keep cutting back to him, saying (essentially):

That's him. That's the one. Boy, I hope something doesn't happen to that guy. Who's sitting right there, looking kinda weak and alone. It'd be terrible if something happened tonight at 741-1/2 W. Dickens, apartment 24 with the crappy deadbolt.

They had to go and draw a circle around his head.

Why not go ahead and fill in the rest of the bulls-eye, fascists?

Sure, the newspapers have the pictures, too. However, the kind of local morons who will torture this guy tend not to read, or even spell "URL" correctly. Fox had the power to make him a national target.

Throughout the playoffs, they've been mocking people in the stands. Shirtless painted freaks, that's one thing. They want it. But Fox sportscasters go after people just sitting there, repeatedly cutting back between pitches to continue their "fun" commentary.

I thought I hated Fox Sports before, with their blitzkrieg of whooshes and epileptic graphics reducing actual sports content by a good 15 minutes per hour. Now, Fox's mean streak has been extended to some of the most innocent spectators in sports.

Fox, you're like school in the summertime*.

* Joke void in the LAUSD.

Today's FOCR: "Fox on the Run," Sweet, Desolation Boulevard