Hillbilly Savants

Just so you know, in case you've never met me, the photo stage left, that's me. Three languages and ten years of higher education and I still don't own a shirt or know how to spell "moonshine" on my jug. At least my formal hat has a tassel, you know, for faculty parades.

I know I haven't been posting at full speed recently. That should be changing soon. Reason being, we have this puppy going full trot now. I have been waiting to throw it up (ha) for awhile. . . I wanted to make sure we had it rocking really hard.

We do.

This is a website that several of my friends and I have started. Its called Hillbilly Savants and its about Appalachia and being Appalachian. Dig on this part:

This blog is about our Appalachia - the real one, not the Hollywood-stereotype nor the third-world nation-esque stereotype being sold by do-gooders, or even the neo-Romantic sylvan stereotype that Rousseau would probably buy into. It should be interesting.

I wrote that. Nifty, eh?

Regardless, check us out. We have plenty of musings, artistic, cultural, and political, to keep you busy, and we've been adding to it pretty frequently. If you're interesting in joining our loose association of literate mountain people, drop me some knowledge. Por favor.

Gogol Bordello

I don't know who it was who first recommended Gogol Bordello to me.

For some reason I think it might have been Mr. Phillips.

Moving on.

I looked Gogol Bordello up online. I was tense, sweating (primarily in the "palms" region). And then, BAM. Nuttin'. I thought the Diety might have been displeased with me for doing so, for my access to the magical, mystical "internet" immediately and catastrophically ended.

Demonstrating my incredible intellectual powers, I did what anyone maintaining a blog which is obsessed with bringing fine arts to nearly seven readers. I forgot all about Gogol Bordello.

Sigh.

A month, maybe two passed (its hard to tell in Knoxville, where we have only two seasons, contruction and acid drizzle). I loved. I laughed. I danced quietly at night in the back of my house, surrounded by ancient tomes.

Sorry. I like the word "tomes."

Then one day my friend (English) Hannah and I were rocking and walking out on Broadway. Not New York. Regardless, we walked into Target to acquire bottled water and there, at the checkout aisle was a DVD for the movie Everything is Illuminated. I'd seen a preview for this flick at the arts theater recently and was entranced. So I bought it.

I watched the entire, truly excellent movie (laughing and/or crying alternatively, which is nice). I was satisfied, full to the brim with delicious happy-joy. Then, as the credits ran, a song entitled "Start Wearing Purple" began to play.

I don't use crack or meth or any other highly addicitive, exceedingly illegal materials. Not my style. But damn Skippy and $#!@@^ Joseph if that tune didn't take over my head. It was like some insane European had taken traditional gypsy music with thrash-happy punk rock. I literally was dancing. I literally was singing the refrain. I literally rewound the credits and listened around nine or ten times. Hell, I dreamed about the song that night.

This song, damnable, its like pure happiness was distilled by truly excellent moonshiners from Franklin County (the Glorious Commonwealth of Virginia), fruited with the fattest, most perfect blackberries, and then consumed en masse beside a fire three times too large to be safe.

Hell, I'm listening to this song right now, by the by, and I am seriously rocking out, much to the chagrin of the meemaw and peepaw across from me.

Oh, and my original appraisal, yeah, accurate. Gypsy ska punk. Who friggin' knew? (Don't tell me globalization doesn't have its bright spots).

Let me drop you some knowledge. I know you want a fix before you do anything else - mySpace is a quick remedy, eh? NPR has numerous giga-stimulating qualities in this respect as well. And an interview. Speaking of interviews, check this jonx from Stinky Records. And check out http://www.exeromai.com/gogol.htm. They are so rock solid it is killing me! Of course, the first comes last (Preacher Paul said) and damned if it ain't the same here - dig on the Gogol Bordello home site. . . truly interesting, tons of stuff, including numerous downloadable mp3s and links to relevant cultural sites. Oh snap!

Thomas Dolby

I was on my way to work this morning when the XM delivered my post to me, via awesome.

His name, it is Thomas Dolby. You will know him only by his masterpiece, "Blinded Me With Science" if you're American.

I know I am.

What else has he been up to? Other than be forcibly deprived of his vision by potential lovers utilizing technological breakthroughs, I mean.

Well, he is the owner of the most successful ringtone corporation in the universe, which is nice (and not really as surprising as you'd think it would be).

Also, he has some new jonx coming out soon as he gets ready to go on tour. . . not the least of which is a song on the soundtrack of Mission Impossible III (which I've seen and, well, hit it at a matinee. . . if you've seen True Lies and Mr. & Mrs. Smith, well yeah, you've seen MI:3).

Regardless, if you like techno and/or New Wave, particularly techno and/or New Wave that embraces the concept of the geek, well, you'll love his work. If not, heck, steer clear. Key links include his homepage (check out the blog for samples), his mySpace page (where you will be only partially visually incapacitated by the research process that precedes practical engineering given his incomplete sample), and the Thomas Dolby Unofficial Fan Site (which has an impressive discography and lyrics setup). VH1's bio is pretty cool too - for instance, I had no idea that Dolby was responsible for the soundtrack to Howard the Duck, a movie so awful it was awesome (based on a comic character that I hear is vaguely cool - ironic in a time when irony was only appreciated when uttered by our Lord or Michael J. Fox).

Your life probably won't be changed, but hopefully your perspective on one hit wonders (in the eyes of Americans) will be. Sigh.

Yello

Saturday evening Trev and I were in South Kakilaki introducting Sarah's parents to Dad, and vice-versa. It was adventurous.

Before the event, we watched the undeniably magnificent Ferris Bueller's Day Off. As it ended, and the theme music poured through the soft, velvety speakers of the cheap hotel TV, Trevor asked me to check on the "internet" for the team responsible for the movie's theme song, "Oh Yeah."

I found 'm. Cause I know how to use a "search engine."

Their name is Yello. They do, primarily it seems, musical soundtracks and riffs for DJs to build upon. They do some other things - they have online some stuff from an album. Its all pretty cool, definitely worth looking at.

In the end, though I can recommend this site for one thing and one thing only.


Secret Office Raves (SORs).




[Dancing while holding a bottle of water and chewing on a glowstick.]

The Inevitable Robot Apocalypse

I won’t lie. I am fascinated by dystopias. Camus’ The Plague, Orwell’s 1984, hell, 1980s television-produced The Day After Tomorrow. Love ‘m. Call me sadistic, but it is true. Heck, even the Bible has a messed up version of the future, pulled out of a toga-wearing preacher’s nightmares: “Revelations.”

Listen and hypothetically learn. Here are my favorite simulations and/or guides of and to the inevitable obliteration of humanity – on the net.

Alien Invasion: WHAM! SPLODE! QUASH!

Meteoroid Strike: BAM!

Thermonuclear War: SQUAL!

Zombies Outbreak: ZAM! DAMN!

Robot Uprisings: ZIP!

Epidemic: POP!

Jesus: WHOOP!

Awesome: GOSH!

Also, three E’s.

Exit Mundi: DUTCH!

The Economist: STAUNCH!

Ebaum’s World: FRANCH!

Soda Pop

I love soda pop. Call me an American (which is awesome), but I just flat love soda pop. I was thinking about this and decided to put together this list of links. I think you'll like it.

The Great Soda vs. Pop Controversy: That's right. Arguably the best non-scientific survey ever.

Jones Soda Company: You know how Cartoon Network saved the short cartoon? So it is with Jones Soda Company. In particular, check out their labels, Jonx.

Royal Crown Cola (That's RC Cola to the "laymen" amongst you): Yup, its 101 years old. Grab a Moonpie and kick off your Berkinstocks, you hippies.

Mountain Dew: Before it was "extreme," Mountain Dew was that nice brand of bellywasher that was invented by river in Knoxville as a mixer for the good stuff, and by that I mean the White Lightning and by that I mean the shine and by that I mean the stuff you can clean your engine as sure as your guts with. There's another site you're gonna' want to peruse, MountainDewBottles.com. That's right. Trust me, you'll read for way longer than you think.

the soda pop blog: Its pretty new, but its interesting. . . inspiring some might say. I keep thinking I should start a food comparison blog, but all I can come up with is the destined to failure "chile verde" blog. The author has another blog, the Root-Beer blog, but given that I don't like root beer, well, it gets a secondary link. Sorry Christopher.

Stephen Colbert

I love political satire. I love it. I believe that I fell in love with it the first time I read Jonathon Swift's Gulliver's Travels and A Modest Proposal, back in Mrs. Hart's English class my senior year in high school (circa 1994). I love The Onion, I love The Daily Show, and I won't apologize for any of it. In fact, I think you should too.

Stephen Colbert, formerly of The Daily Show and currently of The Colbert Report, is the epitome of satire. He is, frankly, a genius. And he is one of the bravest fools I know - I've never heard a man roast people of such power to their faces as he did recently at this year's Annual White House Correspondents Dinner - famous for its comedy, granted, but never this quality, in my humble opinion. Check it out. Trust me, it'll be the best 20 minutes of your day.