Turkey Day Marathon

Round these parts Turkey Day doesn’t mean much, and I’m quite used to it. Hell, I’m a card carrying European, so this shit is normal for me. But alas, as my m?ezinha reminded me this afternoon, this holiday is part of my culture.

So on that note, I bring you – yet another list – stuff I praise the golden calf for bringing this earth:


    – A-Ren, my nephew celebrating his first gobble gobble.

    – Amsterdam, the city she loves me, celebrating our third bird together.

    – My family, in Portugal, Brussels, and especially Jersey, who called to say they miss me, and the entire office knew it was a mom conversation even though they couldn’t understand the Portuguese.

    – Shirtsleaves in Rome, who sent me a kickass veggie-lasagne recipe for my 1-day late celebration tomorrow night.

    – XTX, cause I heart her alot, and she’s the best dam wingwoman on the blogosphere.

    – Ukrainian Demonstrators, for showing the world that they can brave harsh weather and fatigue and demand some real democracy instead of the bullshit they’re handed.

    – The internets, cause they have taught me more about who I am and what I’m capable of.

    – Tony Pierce, who’s ass just published a book, and of course, I have ordered it.

    – Ethiopia, for accepting the border/peace agreement with Eritrea, thereby ensuring my future visit.

    – Ms. Thingk, who I’m happy to be cooking with on this holiday.

    – Brian of the StateImin, Jamie of the Known U, and all the bloggers I’ve gotten to know in the past year, my blog-neighbors who I look forward to living next door to for years to come.

    – My boys in Portugal, the craziest and best support group a guy can have.

    – Marty McFly in Stockholm, for teaching me Din n?sa ?r som ett wedge ost, dina ?gon som choclat chips.* which is all I will say to charm Swedish ladies.

    – The D-Rock

    – All ye blogreaders, you’re good folk and I hope you enjoy.

Oof I just left off a ton of people that deserve to be on here. ~wink wink~ and and lest I not forget you over there, ^wink wink^.

There, now everyone feels included, and no one hates me. Except the pope, but he’s grumpy all the time.

* You nose is like a wedge of cheese, your eyes are like chocolate chips.

Today’s Sounds: RFI – A l? une

F Film Festivals

Of course I like films.. generally speaking… what other medium keeps me in my seat, in the dark, compulsively munching on shit, actually believing that I can’t go on with my life until I see Marty McFly get back safe to good ol’1984. That is… provided he gets the 1.21 gigawatts.. how could Doc have been so careless?

So of course you’d expect me, as a film lover, to be a fan of those fantastical Film festivals, like Cannes, Venice, Berlin.. and fuckin.. Sundance; guess that’s a city too. Amsterdam’s got one, the International Documentary Film something (IDFA). All the intellectuals, so basically everyone in the whole city, and their big brains- head over to see anything and everything at the IDFA. They sit in huge theaters, medium rooms, and claustrophobic broom closets, so they can see films with titles that sound like “Beep Beep; How Cars Really Feel About America” or “Leave me Alone; the wishes of a Zimbabwean youth“. And obviously many of these films are masterpieces which might never see the light of the mass audience day.

Yet as an observer of the third IDFA since I arrived in the Dam, I don’t dig the scene anymore. Since I’m lazy and last minute, I pay a fairly steep price for whatever isn’t sold out when I get there. Usually this means I wind up watching some Australian dude’s home videos from 1980. Which, while compelling in that voyeuristic kind of way, bores the shit out of me. What’s that you say? Book early BM? It’s not that bad BM? I’m not listening. Because I found the underground way to do it.

I’m so hip, that I’m at the vanguard of a new trend. Have the filmfest at your house. How? Two words: Dutch Public Television. Ok that’s three words, you’re right. Point is, they have quite a few of the HOT documentaries on their website, archived for your convenience. My favorite this week? BIG BROTHER MIDDLE EAST.

Forget what you know about the stupid reality show, this is a documentary of how they planned and prepared a version done specifically for the entire middle east. The culture clashes and questions left me dumbfounded and drooling for more. I loved the candidates who came in and sang in Arabic and danced around, and then weren’t chosen because they “might be too eccentric for the audience.” I also loved seeing the Saudi minister of Information running around the house praising the whole thing, probably envisioning the big bucks ahead. All the staff as well as the participants were from many different arab nations, and one minute you could hear the differences in culture and values, and the next you couldn’t. Fascinating. Not all of it is in English, but much of it is, and I highly recommend it.

UPDATE: In the end, the show was pulled quite early in the game. But that’s a whole other story.

Now back to the bicyclemark underground documentary festival. (budfest)

Today’s Sounds: Jimmy Eat World – Futures (wonderfully good)

Sir Yes Sir

Over the past week I’ve watched, listened, and read the testimonies. Some news media has tried to hide it, cover it up, bury it… anything to avoid making their audience feel uncomfortable. So I hope you’re sitting with a pillow propped behind you and a comfy seat cushion donut thing, cause this shit is anything but comfortable. And I promise you it ain’t funny.

Now I know you might have family. A cousin. A friend of a friend. A blogger-friend, as I do. Or an uncle’s neighbor’s daughter. There are so many people in the military, stationed in Iraq, we are all somehow connected to someone. And so we can’t possibly think badly of them. Cause how could you look at your brother or sister as anything but this person who you unconditionally love, no matter what? – But I’m blogging, so I can. 

While I continue to tape, a marine walks up to the

 other two bodies about 15 feet away, but also lying 

against the same back wall.



Then I hear him say this about one of the men:



"He's fucking faking he's dead - he's faking he's fucking dead."



Through my viewfinder I can see him raise the muzzle of his rifle

 in the direction of the wounded Iraqi. There are no sudden movements, 

no reaching or lunging.



However, the marine could legitimately believe the man poses

 some kind of danger. Maybe he's going to cover him while 

another marine searches for weapons.



Instead, he pulls the trigger. There is a small splatter against

the back wall and the man's leg slumps down.



"Well he's dead now," says another marine in the background.

Let me guess, you’ve heard this story? I have read it over and over. I listened to it. I read the letter from the cameraman who can’t sleep at night after filming it. And what I’m here to scream and shout, is that this is a crime. A war crime. And the old “They’re just following orders” didn’t work at Nuremberg, and doesn’t work now.

It’s called Jus in bello for those who made the Laws of War. For me it’s just another atrocity within a larger atrocity the world calls WAR. And whether the person pulling the trigger, to kill the man who is bleeding to death in the mosque, who had been injured, disarmed and interrogated the day before.. whether it’s my cousin or your neighbor’s neighbor… it’s a crime, and even if you’re ordered to do so, you’re not a robot, you know it’s wrong. When the order is to dispose of the bodies, to set fire to the houses, to collect all the men, to rape the women, or to round up all the Tutsi’s… there’s nothing honorable about saying “yes sir.”

And before I go, let’s not forget the forever ignored warzones in our own backyards.

Today’s Sounds: London symphony Orchestra Special on the BBC Worldservice

No Justice No Peas

Well I hope you’re satisfied. Yes you… I’m looking right at you cutey international student girl. You and your internets and friendsters. And you – hard working dude from Papua New Guinea, looking all happy and studious, you just love getting here bright at early, as the key goes click-click in the door. What if that tidal wave splash of muddy water from the Fiat Punto had swallowed me up this morning? What if I stayed in my warm, laundry-fresh smelling bed a few extra hours? Hmmm? All hell would break loose if I didn’t open the fishtank on monday mornings. Cause the kids need their internet, and “I am the keymaster…. are you the gatekeeper?”

I’ve been waiting for the chance to put nipples on the blog. This is my cheese in the proverbial trap, to catch that rat Michael Powell. He’s got Nipple Detector Radar.

I just sent T-T-Tony of the busblog, my nominations for the first annual busblog awards, or as I’d like to call them – Bloscars. So here they are, in no friggin particular order, sir:

  • Accordian Guy Visits a Toronto Dump: I love the photos most of all, and it fascinates me to no end.

  • The Known Universe’s Jamiee gets to the gate for his flight back to NYC, and then… : I just thought it was the ultimate in terms of living in the moment.

  • NoCoins chooses a Doctor: Anytime you mix NoCoins and a Doctor’s Office together, shit is funny.

  • And of course, TheStateImin-Brian’s family militia: It’s like Family Ties with guns, I love it.

I’d like to thank the academy, my agent, oh and Heyzeus.

Today’s Sounds: Loft 405’s Latest Podcast – New Found Glory

Sunday Pod People

If I can swing it, from now on, Sunday’s will be dedicated to Podcasting. No it has nothing to do with alien probes, or genetic mutations, it is –according to me– the next frontier of blog universe: frequently updated websites with audio posts (MP3’s) consisting of commentary, music, interviews, etc. Adam Curry can explain it better, and sure enough, he just moved from the Netherlands.

I used to think, “Podcasting? I don’t have one of those newfangled Ipod’s!”(yet) But sure enough, you don’t need that little white gremlin plugged into your ears and strapped to your arms. Even if they are kind of sexy. (?!) All you need is a microphone, computer, and a voicebox… even that might be optional. A good start to the world of podcasting is ipodder.org which Curry himself helps run. Don’t worry about not being tech savvy, you’re reading a blog, you’re already tech save- just go with it.

So my two picks of this weekend are The Nation Magazine’s Audioblog, which this week features Howard Zinn, one of my most favorite thinkers of all time. He talks about his new book “Voices of a People’s History” and how the world’s focus should now be on building a sweeping movement against the war. He also gets into how ridiculous the idea is that you can use war to diminish terrorism. He has long been saying, as have I,

"..we should look closely at the grievances

 of so many millions of people, especially in the middle east,

and examine whether or not those grievances are legitimate, 

and why they drive this small fraction of this population

to commit such acts."

Look at the cause, and see what isn’t being done to solve those problems..

My other pick is loft 405, broadcasting from a loft in Brooklyn, with good tunes and fun commentary.

So there you have it -podcasting, you’ll be ready when it comes up during dinner conversation. Then you can prove that you’re down with tech trends and show everyone you’re a nerd hip.

Today’s Sounds: Radio Nation Audioblog with Howard Zinn, with Jimmy Eat World – Clarity in the background

Tour Chicks

It’s a rainy saturday afternoon and I’ve done all the apartment cleaning one can possibly do within a 5 hour stretch; a good time for a trip down memory lane:

It was the summer of 99′, Bill Clinton’s library was but a faint idea, GWBush was on the 12-step program, Lionel Jospin was still popular in France, and one of the fastest rising NJ Ska bands of the third wave set off on the longest tour of their 3-year history. I remember it well:

I was entering the third year on my undergrad career, and One Cool Guy’s first EP was selling like hotcakes in the NY/NJ area. They never really told me the specifics about how much money was made or what was sold, all I know is that thousands of CD’s and a countless amounts of shirts had been sold. I myself couldn’t even get my hands on each of the different screenprints.

We set out from Jersey with one goal: to have a hell of alot of fun. OH yeah, and play music, promote the album, and reach new fans bla bla bla. And so we did, with the usual trials and tribulations: Being unable to find Athens, Georgia. Having a Gainesville, FL show moved to a Radical Bookstore, playing some sort of abandoned barn in whatevertown, Indiana. I can remember all 10 of us staying with some teenage fans house in south Florida. The mother made us brownies I think. I distinctly remember thinking “OK, nobody break any laws tonight.” Having found a corner to put my air-mattress, I was easing off to sleep, when a little girl stood over me smiling like I’m her new pet goldfish. “Goodnight” I said, pulling the blanket over my head. “Goodnight” she responded, I’m not sure how long she stood there watching me sleep. I awoke to find some other teenage girl with a backpack on, who greeted me with a cheery “goodmorning” as she went off to – i guess- summerschool.

But there were moments that still to this day leave me with a huge smile and sense of satisfaction: Arriving in Palm Beach (or something like that) and sitting on the dock of a canal with the horns, jamming like we own the state while the neighbors seemed to stop everything to listen. Or stopping along the highway to watch the Sunrise in Tennessee with Dan Skatalite, while the other guys slept in the back of Red Leader and Gold Dust, our legendary vans. I’ll never forget playing at a Laundromat in Cincinnati where my darling, Willie Nelson’s daughter, came to see us. And the best memory of all, returning home to NJ to a sold out crowd of enthusiastic fans at the Palace in BoundBrook.

Almost five years later, here I sit, trying to retrieve the memories from that cobwebby part of my mind. Scanning old photos. Making plans to see the boys when I’m in Jersey next month. Hell, I even got fanmail this week, ain’t that some shit?

I swear I meant to tell this story better, with more illustration, but in the end it’s one of those things that, well, you had to be there. And even then, you wouldn’t have believed it.

Today’s Sounds: Zero 7 – When it Falls