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DISHING IT OUT
Sep 23rd, 1999 by Clark Humphrey

CABLE COMPANIES FINALLY appear to be “getting it.”

They’re sluggishly rolling out the fiber-optic line upgrades they’d been promising for most of the decade.

(Here in Seattle, the now-AT&T-owned TCI is finally getting around to some of the neighborhoods it promised upgraded service to by one to five years ago.)

So, now that you can finally get Comedy Central and maybe even TV Land on your cable system, what use is there for those cable-killers, the home satellite dishes?

Well, there are several reasons to consider the little dish instead of the long wire, even though the dish costs you up-front plus monthly programming fees at least comparable to those charged by cable. Among them:

You live where there’s still no upgraded cable. South Park might be getting passe, but there’s still Strangers With Candy to make a Comedy Central-less cable hookup a little less valuable each day. Not to mention the Food Network, the Game Show Network, BBC America, MuchMusic, etc. etc.

You live where there’s no cable. The cable companies may have finally gotten around to certain “inner city” neighborhoods they’d previously shunned, but there are still some industrial, art-loft, rural, and isolated-town environments without the black coaxial running in.

You want lotsa extra-price movies and/or sports. If you’re a hockey fanatic or if you’re a fan of teams shown principally on some other region’s Fox Sports variation or if you really, really want five different HBOs, the satellite’s the only way to go.

You want porn. Some satellite dish companies offer channels displaying uncensored human-mating spectacles, or at least channels offering more lightly censored human-mating acts than the Spice channel or Skinemax offer.

You want certain channels even upgraded cable in your town doesn’t offer. Different dish services offer various ethnic and foreign-language channels for folks from China, Brazil, India, etc. And there are some “mainstream” but third-string cable channels that now have only spotty pickups on local cable systems: BET On Jazz, Style, Discovery People, MTV’S M2, ESPN Classic, CNNfn, the Golf Network, Outdoor Life, MSNBC, Bloomberg Business News.

You want ZDTV. From the Softbank/Ziff-Davis computer-magazine empire, 24 hours (actually, more like six hours repeated four times) of talk shows and news-magazine shows about hi-tech, PC buying, and life on the ol’ Internet. The Internet Tonight show’s particularly valuable as a televisual “Weblog.”

Unfortunately, its site only offers streaming live video during special events (speeches by tech-biz leaders, mostly); the short clips on its site only make you want to get a dish so you can see the whole thing.

Which, of course, is probably the management’s goal.

Cable, however, still will have certain things satellite services don’t. Local channels and major-network affiliates. Regional news channels such as NorthWest Cable News. And, of course, public access.

IN OTHER NEWS: Was a little amused by the headline, “Energetic Beck hasn’t lost a beat with time.” I thought to myself, “Sure he hasn’t had anything close to a hit since ’96, but Beck’s not that old.” Then, alas, the story turned out to be about Jeff Beck….

TOMORROW: What kids don’t know that grownups assume is ubiquitous; and vice versa.

ELSEWHERE:

THE CYBERKIDS ARE ALRIGHT
Sep 22nd, 1999 by Clark Humphrey

YOU KNOW THE SOUTH PARK EPISODE in which a “prehistoric ice man” goes bonkers trying to readjust to how massively his world has changed since he was frozen–in 1997?

Books about the high-tech culture can seem like that. They can seem outdated by the time they come out, and positively nostalgic if they resurface later as paperbacks.

Case in point #1: The previously-mentionedJoystick Nation by J.C. Hertz; a history of video games up to 1997 that failed to predict Nintendo’s comeback just as certain computer-biz analysts had failed to predict Apple’s comeback.

Case in point #2: Douglas Rushkoff’s Playing the Future: What We Can Learn from Digital Kids.

Hertz’s book tried to depict video-gaming as a prosocial, synapse-building, mind-stimulating thing, something good for your children (even with all the fantasy violence, often in that “first-person shooter” mode that invites the user to get off on the fun of slaughtering).

Rushkoff’s book (written in ’95 and now in a slightly-revised paperback) takes a more generalized, and more hyper, POV. He rapidly jaunts around from video and role-playing gaming to snowboarding to raving to neopaganism to tattoos to chat-rooming (the World Wide Web’s only briefly mentioned) to “mature readers” comic books to MTV to Goths to Burning Man. His purpose–to state and re-state how today’s “screenagers” are increasingly equipped to lead society beyond its flaccid, industrial-age ideologies and into a millennial, tribal utopia.

Lord, Rushkoff tries all he can to assure us that Those Kids Today aren’t brain-dead slackers but instead the harbingers of a grand new future (he even uses rave-dance promoters’ self-congratulatory cliches about hedonistic E-addicts somehow being “the next stage of human evolution”).

But it all comes out like last year’s drum-and-bass; or, worse, like something out of the long-dormant mag Mondo 2000.

Chapters have titles like “The Fall of Linear Thinking and the Rise of Chaos.” Every other page or so introduces another kid-culture or young-adult-culture phenomenon depicted to illustrate how us fogeys are just too darned stuck in passe pre-Aquarian mindsets about money, politics, religion, sports, dancing, music, etc. etc.; compared to the Wired Generation’s effortless surfing thru the waves of chaos theory and multiculturalism.

Some random examples of the book’s numbing hyperbole:

“Most screenage political activism is geared at penetrating the awkward innefectuality of existing social contracts…. The old policies attempt to eradicate injustices by institutionalizing them and to encourage independence by infantilizing the oppressed. This is because the old policies conform to a nonorganic view of social structure.”

“We are afraid of the universal wash of our media ocean because, unlike our children, we can’t recognize the bigger patterns in its overall structure.”

“Those of us intent on securing an adaptive strategy for the coming millennium need look no further than our own children for reassuring answers to the many uncertainties associated with the collapse of the culture we have grown to know and love. Our kids are younger and less experienced than us, but they are also less in danger of becoming obsolete.”

Besides the unnerving tone, inaccuracies abound.

Rushkoff repeatedly refers to Marvel Comics’ multilinear storylines (which he sees as one of the kids’ influences in growing up to appreciate a complex, complicated world) as the creative invention of Jack Kirby. (While Kirby established Marvel’s look, designed most of its early star characters, and played an underappreciated role in the plotting of individual issues, it was editor/head writer Stan Lee who devised the “Marvel Universe” concept of heroes and villains and plotlines endlessly crossing over from title to title.)

Rushkoff also uses “the long-running TV talk show The Other Side” as evidence for the popularity of New Age and supernatural topics (the show only lasted one year).

But still, at least Rushkoff, in his annoyingly hyperbolic way, at least has unapologetically nice things to say about a younger generation forever damned by aging hippie-elitists, patronized by cynical advertisers, and stereotyped by clueless mainstream media.

One of Rushkoff’s positive points is that those Gen-Y gals n’ guys seem increasingly unpersuaded by the manipulative language of ads and marketing.

If true, this would mean they’d also be skeptical of Rushkoff’s own marketing blather on their supposed behalf.

IN OTHER NEWS: If America’s power grids and financial systems could survive Hurricane Floyd with disruptions like this, the whole Y2K scare won’t be all that scary.

TOMORROW: Home satellite dishes–still worth it?

PITCH IN: This time, I’m looking for cultural artifacts today’s young adults never knew (i.e., dial phones, non-inline skates, and three-network TV). Make your nominations at our MISC. Talk discussion boards.

ELSEWHERE:

NO MORE FILMY RESIDUE?
Sep 17th, 1999 by Clark Humphrey

THE LAST REEL: The final issuance of technical specs for digital, high-definition video has opened the speculative floodgates: Whither film?

This summer, a few scattered movie theaters have staged test runs of digital-video movie projection. Audiences apparently liked what they saw; so trials and tests will continue.

Distributors look forward to being able to “ship” their shows to theaters via satellite, instead of trucking film prints around. Theater chains look forward to no longer worrying about film breakage and scratchage, and really look forward to the chance to fire even more projectionists.

In a recent issue of the New York Press, Godfrey Cheshire looked ahead toward the final replacement of “film” as we know it by digital-video projection, and (like the self-described “videophobe” he is) foresw only bad things ahead.

I beg to differ.

For one thing, digital-video features will undoubtedly still include many of your favorite movie cliches. “A female lead with feminist leanings will always despise a macho hero–until the first time he rescues her from certain death. She will then become totally conventional and dependent…. Time will stand still when when the hero is in the presence of a company logo….”

For another, regular-definition digital video production’s already on the verge of revolutionizing independent moviemaking. The makers of Doomed Planet (which they describe as “America’s favorite low-budget Armageddon comedy!”) say they were able to complete the feature for $10,000 with digital video, but it “would have easily cost a half million dollars had we shot it on 16 or super-16mm film.”

(Our local readers can see the results at the Doomed Planet premiere party, next Friday (9/24) at Sit & Spin, 2219 4th Ave. in Seattle.)

Once hi-def camcorders become widely available on the indie level, ground-level directors would be able to realize their visions and make them look just as slick as the big-boys’ movies (if they wanted to).

Of course, as anybody who’s seen some of the abundant Amerindie-film dross of the ’90s knows, just because these tools become available to more would-be auteurs it doesn’t mean you’ll get viewable results.

Meanwhile, the current Wired (which won’t be available online until after it leaves the newsstands, approx. Oct. 17) has a cover-story package all about digital moviemaking, including two (count ’em!) Nor’wester stories: one about Seattle’s “microcinema” producers and disseminators (including Blackchair Productions, 911 Media Arts, Atom Films, and Honkworm Entertainment), and one about Myst/Riven video-game legend Robyn Miller putting his share of the games’ earned millions into a movie-production venture right in the Spokane suburbs (about as off-Hollywood as you can get without running into the Hollywood second-homers who’ve infiltrated so many other inland-west towns).

IN OTHER NEWS: Shopping malls ban studs. (Insert your own teen-boywatching joke here.)

MONDAY: Taking the personality out of print journalism.

ELSEWHERE:

  • This “quotient of humanity survey” provides a means for its creators to brand as “subhuman” anybody who disagrees with the creators’ own rave-shaman-esque ideology, or who leads a lifestyle that significantly differs from theirs…
  • “Gather ye casual sex while ye may, ladies!…”
  • Harley purists like to call Japanese motorcycles “rice burners.” Perhaps soon, the name could be accurate… (found by Rebecca’s Pocket)
  • Diligent citizen harassed by The Man for preventing the waste of potentially good music….
NORTHERN LIGHTS (AND LITES)
Sep 14th, 1999 by Clark Humphrey

YESTERDAY, we mentioned some troubles facing Vancouver, a place where early-’90s-style economic doldrums are back and politics has devolved into blood sport.

But there’s still a lot to like about the place. Such as–

  • Architecture. The ultramodern gently clashing with the beautifully decrepit and the ’50s-stoic.
  • Pleasant disorientation. The odd currency with its pathetic (for them) exchange rate. The metric system. The bilingual signs and food packages. The Euro-mod women’s fashions.
  • Less sprawl. Because the region chose long ago not to build lotsa freeways and the like, the Vancouver metro area fits 80 percent of the Seattle metro area’s population in one-fourth the real estate.

    Vancouver itself’s a very compact city, with most everything a tourist would be interested in lying in a two-mile radius of the downtown Granville Mall, and everything else easily reachable by bus, by commuter rail, and by…

  • SkyTrain. While it doesn’t use single-rail technology, this very successful, 15-mile, elevated light-rail line does just what Seattle’s monorail advocates believe an elevated line will do here.
  • The movie-TV biz. While The X-Files is now being filmed in territories where the FBI actually has jurisdiction, plenty of other TV shows (Stargate SG-1, The New Addams Family) and movies (Better Than Chocolate, The 13th Warrior) are keeping B.C. crews active. You can now take a guided tour of places where The X-Files and other “Hollywood North” TV shows pretended they were someplace else.
  • Wreck Beach. Perhaps at no other public, free-admission spot in the Western Hemisphere can you buy a taco or a premixed cocktail from an attractive, totally-nude adult of your favorite gender.
  • Fewer sex hangups. One chain of Poutine stands (see below) advertises “Full Frontal Fries–Lots of Skin;” while the Mars bar (equivalent to the U.S. Milky Way brand) promises “quick energy” for husbands worried about wedding-night performance. Local TV offers nudity-laden “art films” on regular broadcast channels with commercials and everything.

    Prostitution is quasi-legal; though politicians and cops keep harrassing the area’s estimated 1,500 sex workers (providing a $65-million segment of the tourist economy) and their client-supporters, it’s on a much lower-key basis than in most U.S. cities, and is mostly aimed at keeping the streets respectable-looking. Sex-worker-rights advocates are many and outspoken.

    The once-thriving Vancouver strip-joint circuit, though, has nearly collapsed; as many bar owners have switched to music formats to attract more coed audiences.

  • The nightlife scene. B.C.’s archaic liquor laws (much more restrictive than Washington’s except for the 19-year legal age) prevent the opening of megaclubs like our Fenix or Showbox. An unintended result: A lot of smaller clubs, with a wide array of live, DJ, and karaoke formats.
  • The Granville Mall and the Robson-Denman-Davie downtown loop. While many huge global chains have staked their spots (the former downtown library now houses a Planet Hollywood, a Virgin Megastore, and a TV station!), dozens of cozy, picturesque, locally-owned shops still thrive or survive.
  • Chinatown. Lotsa martial-arts movie theaters, exquisite silk-clothing boutiques, and open-air food markets. There’s even a whole storefront promoting the great Japanese chocolate-covered pretzel stick, Pocky!
  • Fun foodstuffs. The great Canadian candy bar, in all its giant-sized variations, is still a thriving institution. While Frito-Lay’s muscled in on the once-powerful Canuck chip biz, potato-chip creativity lives on at the Chippery store. And the town’s now full of outlets for the great Quebecois foodstuff: Poutine! (That’s French fries covered with cheese curds and gravy. Yum!) And, of course, there’s always Tim Horton’s Donuts.
  • The Elbow Room. Utterly-huge pancakes, other breakfast and brunch goodies, and an atmosphere of gregarious “rudeness,” personally ruled by the Quebecois owner (a cross between Seinfeld’s “Soup Nazi” and an aging, flamboyantly-gay theater director).

So take off to the Great White North as soon as you can. Not only will you have tons-O-fun (unless Customs finds pot stashed on your person), but the economy up there needs your U.S. bucks.

TOMORROW: Fun music-related talk.

ELSEWHERE:

PROSE AND CONS
Sep 3rd, 1999 by Clark Humphrey

TODAY’S MISC. WORLD is dedicated to America’s only locally-produced sketch comedy show on commercial TV, Almost Live, now canned after 15 years. It means host John Keister, my old UW Daily staffmate, will now have to get more commercial gigs selling cell phones. It also dashes my hopes of ever getting paid and/or acknowledged for the occasional gag from this column they’ve stolen over the years. And, of course, it means the fine citizens of Kent, the suburb AL has always loved to chastize, can sleep a little easier.

Don’t put the blame for the show’s axing on “a changing Seattle,” but on a changing TV landscape. Every year, fewer viewers are patronizing the old-line network-affiliate stations (which have, by and large, reduced their definition of “local” programming to sports and mayhem-based news). This meant AL’s ratings declined to where it was only a break-even operation (not only did it have a full-time staff of ten writer-actors, it was the last show on KING to utilize a full studio crew, with humans operating the cameras and everything).

BACK-TO-SCHOOL DAZE: In the September Harper’s, the highly respected author Francine Prose (Guided Tours of Hell, Hunters and Gatherers) complains about the institionally-endorsed mediocrities assigned for reading by innocent high-school students.

Prose’s long rant piece, “I Know Why the Caged Bird Cannot Read” (not available online), asserts whole generations of potential lit-lovers have been permanently turned off from the joys of reading by the less-than-enticing stories they’re made to read in school, and by misguided approaches taken to teaching the kids about even the good writing that makes the English Lit cut.

Like some of her more politically-conservative fellow critics, Prose puts some of the blame on administrators and politicians obsessed with using English Lit to teach “diversity” and other life lessons. Prose figures that because these bureaucrats want to make sure the kids learn nothing more or less than the precisely intended lesson plan, they force-feed the kids really mediocre PC-lit.

She’s got a particular beef against Clinton’s fave poet Maya Angelou, the equally-sanctimonious Alice Walker, Harper Lee’s one-dimensional racism memoir To Kill a Mockingbird, Lord of the Flies, Brave New World, Ordinary People, Studs Lonigan, and teachers who reduce all discussion of Huckleberry Finn to a mere rant about its author’s alleged received racism.

Prose says there are plenty of better stories out there about rape, racism, girls’ self-discovery, boys’ temptations to cruelty, etc. etc. But the schools keep on assigning the mediocrities.

She suggests many possible motivations and/or intended or unintended results of force-feeding Our Kids such bureaucratically-acceptable bad writing (it’ll turn the kids into TV-viewing, advertiser-friendly, thinking-challenged drones).

She skirts around a much more plausible consequence–that a diet of low-quality literature might raise a generation of potential school-administration bureaucrats, more interested in what which is collectively-acceptable than that which is really, really good.

What I would do: Divide high-school lit into two sequences. One would continue the life-lessons-thru-storytelling schtick (a technique well-used throughout the history of most civilizations), only using better-written stories. The other track would be strictly about intro’ing kids to some Great Kickass Writing.

This writing could still be from all sorts of races, genders, and nationalities; it’d even do a better “diversity” job ‘cuz it’d showcase some of the best stuff from all over, instead of causing kids to associate minority and/or female authors with dull verbiage or one-dimensional ideologies.

MONDAY:Some examples of Great Kickass Writing.

IN OTHER NEWS: Scientists now say they can genetically-modify mice to make them more intelligent. Only one response is possible: “Are you pondering what I’m pondering, Pinky?…”

ELSEWHERE: This woman wants “to ban the word ‘cool’ from the Web’s lexicon…”

According to this list, what you’re looking at right now is not a “webzine.” So be it.

SCARE AND SCARE ALIKE
Aug 31st, 1999 by Clark Humphrey

TODAY’S MISC. WORLD is dedicated to artist Paul Horiuchi, whose World’s Fair mural still provides an elegant backdrop to every Pain in the Grass concert every summer.

AS PART OF A FREELANCE GIG I conducted with Everything Holidays, I’ve been looking in on what might be the top costumes this upcoming Halloween.

(I know, some of you around here in the PacNW don’t want to hear about mid-Autumn during this Coldest Summer of Our Lifetimes. But some of the site’s Eastern Seaboard readers might enjoy a beat-the-heat fantasy.)

Anyhoo, here’s some of what I told that commercial Website might be in style this 10/31, plus some additional thoughts:

  • The Phantom Menace. The movie was planned from the start as a vehicle for scads of merchandise, and officially-licensed character costumes will certainly be among them. The only question: Whether very many fans will go as Jar Jar Binks, the movie’s controversial comic-relief character.
  • Pokemon. The video game and TV cartoon with the dozens of different superpowered animal characters is a natural, for kids and adults alike. Partygoers could be any of the popular Pokemon critters: the cute Pikachu, the sad Psyduck, the sassy Squirtle, the bratty Meowth. If a group is dressing up together, some could be Pokemon creatures while others could portray the show’s human heroes (Ash, Misty, and Brock) or villains (Jessie and James).
  • Pro wrestling. Cable TV’s year-round costume parties are a natural for Halloween. Adults without the requisite muscle mass could wear foam-rubber fake chests and arms to complete the look.
  • South Park.The bratty-mouthed boys and their deranged fellow townspeople could be almost as popular this year as last.
  • The Blair Witch Project.

    The year’s biggest horror movie has no “costume” characters, but that won’t stop partygoers from appearing as the doomed student filmmakers, carrying camcorders while running around acting terrified.

  • The Y2K Bug. Any good insect costume will do, parcularly if the “bug” is accompanied by a bearded Nostradamus, a street-corner preacher predicting the end of the world, camoflage-clad survivalists, or a computer nerd with a giant flyswatter.
  • The Iron Giant. More popular among young-adult sci-fi fans than among the Disney family audience, this movie’s alien-robot title character will be a great homemade-costuming project.
  • Powerpuff Girls.The Cartoon Network’s trio of cute superheroines just might become this Halloween’s answer to Xena.
  • Teen pop singers. N’Sync and 98 Degrees don’t have the trademark-costume sense of the Spice Girls, but matching black suits and some coordinated choreography could do the trick (or treat) for teams of boys.
  • iMac and iBook. The first home computers in years to have “personalities,” they could be impersonated via homemade papier-mache heads. Alternately, two people could go to a party as a Mac and a Windows computer engaged in a mock rivalry.
  • Other possible hits this year: Minime and Fat Bastard from the Austin Powers sequel; Clinton with a cigar; George W. Bush with a bong; Jerry Springer and cat-fighting guests; the U.S. women’s soccer team (particularly the sports-bra-baring member); the Dilbert gang; the ghetto family from The PJ’s, rap music’s Insane Clown Posse; disco-dancers; Drew Carey and his sitcom nemesis Mimi.
  • In the sick-joke category: JFK Jr. (with aviator’s goggles and a broken-off airplane steering wheel); trenchcoat teens.
  • What You Won’t See Much Of: There are few things sadder than a Halloween costume fad that never took off. In 1998, costume stores were dumping Power Ranger outfits at below cost. This year, expect Inspector Gadget outfits to meet a similar fate.

TOMORROW: We play with our food again.

ELSEWHERE: A healty antidote to the Nordstrom Way… Just when I was wondering when the feminization of the professional ranks would result in a further eroticization of men, here comes the latest look for dudes with “cool ankles”…

DON'T BE A GIMP! READ THE IMP!
Aug 26th, 1999 by Clark Humphrey

BEFORE ANYTHING ELSE TODAY, here’s one last reminder to get thyself and thy loved-ones out to our live reading and promo for The Big Book of MISC. tonight, Aug. 26, 7:30 p.m., at the venerable Elliott Bay Book Co. ‘Til then, please enjoy the following…

IMP-ERATIVES: Let us now praise two not-very-famous men, both of Chicago: Cartoonist-illustrator-calligrapher Chris Ware and his recent biographer-explainer, Daniel Raeburn.

Raeburn is the publisher of The Imp, an occasional one-man zine devoted to a single, full-length profile of a different comics creator each issue. The first Imp was an authorized career-study of Eightball creator Daniel Clowes; the second, a highly unauthorized (yet not-completely-condemnatory) look at Fundamentalist tract king Jack T. Chick. These were published in the respective formats of a comic-sized pamphlet and an oversized Chick tract.

For his Ware tribute, Raeburn has pulled out all the stops. He’s issued his work in the form of a fake turn-of-the-century tabloid magazine; apparently drawing particular layout inspiration from The Youth’s Companion, a boys’ adventure-fiction mag published in the late 19th and early 20th centuries by the Perry Mason Company of Boston. (Yes, Erle Stanley Gardner named his whodunit hero after the publisher who first turned him onto formula fiction as a kid.)

This small-type layout means Raeburn can cram his full 40,000-word bio, with dozens of pix and fake ads (more about them later) into 20 tabloid pages (plus a two-page center section containing four other cartoonists’ full-color tributes to Ware). It’s also a perfect match to Raeburn’s subject.

Ware, as any reader of his Acme Novelty Library comix (or their current syndicated source, Jimmy Corrigan: The Smartest Kid on Earth) knows, is a devout lover of pre-modern American ephemera, design, architecture, and music (particularly ragtime). Loss in general, and in particular the loss of so much of what was great and beautiful about North America, plays a huge role in the Corrigan saga.

The Ware issue of The Imp covers most every facet of the young cartoonist’s productive career, and many (though not nearly all) of the issues and themes leading into and out from Ware’s elegant, sad works. Of particular interest to the pop-culture student such as myself are the sections on Chicago architecture (particularly that of the 1893 Columbia Exposition), the old Sears catalog (possibly Chicago’s most important print product), and the Sears book’s “evil twin,” the still-published-today Johnson Smith catalog of novelty toys and practical jokes.

That latter essay forms a center and counterpoint to the fake ads along the sides and bottoms of most of the zine’s pages, in the tiny-print style of old newspapers and magazine back-pages (a design look familiar to many people today from Wendy’s tabletops). These ads (some of which previously appeared in the endpages of Ware’s comics) are dense with copy that melt away the bombastic promises of advertising better than the entire run of Adbusters Quarterly:

  • “Things That Look Like Other Things. The EVER-POPULAR FAD. A Heartless Practical Joke… Plastic that looks like wood. Buses that look like trolley cars. Adults who look like children. It’s all the rage!… Also, new for this season: Little girls who look like prostitutes, little boys who look like killers.”
  • “The sexual partner of your choice, sent directly to your door, ready and willing with no reservations… Hurry! Because after three to six months, you’re going to get sick of them and you’ll want a new one all over again. No end to the fun!”
  • “CERTAINTY. Wow! Here’s your chance to eliminate doubt forever. Never be wrong again, either in your principles, or in petty arguments with your inferiors. What could be better?”

Appropriately enough, on the night I finished reading The Imp, the Disney Channel ran an awkwardly computer-colored version of Galloping Gaucho, the second-ever Mickey Mouse cartoon (1928). It had been produced as a silent, but had music and sound effects tacked on just before its release. Ub Iwerks’ original Mickey character design bears a slight resemblance to Ware’s early character Quimby the Mouse.

But more importantly, the early Mickey films represent a transition from the imagination-crazy days of silent animation toward the hyperrealistic, desexualized, formulaic slickness Disney would soon turn into. Seeing this with bad latter-day color schemes added only made it even more of a Chris Ware moment.

(The Imp has no known website; copies of it, and of Ware’s comics, can be ordered via Quimby’s (a Chicago store named after Ware’s mouse character and utilizing Ware-designed graphics), Last Gasp, and Atomic Books. Ware’s works are also available direct from Fantagraphics.)

TOMORROW: If an adult website charges money, how can it be “amateur”?

ELSEWHERE: Seattle’s mayor sez he wants to launch a new crusade for “the arts.” Considering the extent to which past “arts” crusades have generated more and more cash for big institutions and construction projects, and less and less cash for artists, excuse us if we’re a bit skeptical until we see the details… Creative uses for AOL CD-ROMs and diskettes… The search continues to find anybody who likes Microsoft who isn’t being paid to like it; while MS is quoted as calling itself nothing less than “The Most Important Company in the History of the World”…

HOW LIMP WAS MY BIZKIT
Aug 25th, 1999 by Clark Humphrey

SOMETIME LATE LAST YEAR, erstwhile Stranger music writer Everett True called for a “Campaign for Real Rock” (inspired by the British beer-lovers’ lobby, the Campaign for Real Ale).

True’s premise: Just as the great British brewing traditions were being threatened by callous cost-cutting measures at big corporate breweries, so was classic American hard rock n’ roll threatened by the commercial-pop acts manufactured by the major record labels.

True’s gone back to the U.K.; but without him, real rock (or, as Backfire zine editor Dawn Anderson calls it, “Rawk”) is back. Alas.

Lost in most mainstream-media coverage of rape and pillaging at Woodstock 99 was the fact that the festival bore only a trademark connection with the ’69 original. This festival was not a corporate exploitation of “Peace and Music” but a showcase for harder, louder, more aggressive acts, especially on its last night.

Now there’s a radio station devoted entirely to the likes of Limp Bizkit, KORN (the group which relegated BR-549 to being only the second most popular band with a Hee Haw-derived name), Eminem, Kid Rock, etc. etc.

It’s called “The Funky Monkey,” though its official call letters are KKBY. It had been a fairly progressive, Tacoma-based R&B station, but hadn’t turned a profit with that format; so it’s now going straight for the white-gangsta-wannabe market.

The contrast between the station’s new and old formats couldn’t be much more stark.

The old KKBY had played music by and for African-Americans who’d long ago gotten weary of gangsta rap, that “authentic ghetto voice” concocted or at least pushed by Hollywood promoters eager to nakedly exploit white mall kids’ stereotypes of young black men as sexy savages.

The new KKBY plays mostly white artists who’ve taken the gangsta acts’ “Xtreme” hiphop (via such crossover pioneers as the Beastie Boys and Jane’s Addiction) and removed all blackness except for a thin veneer of supposed street-credibility. White artists “admiring” their black gangsta forebearers for fostering an image of doped-up, violent, woman-hating jerks with a finely-tuned fashion sense.

In other words, “Angry White Rappers.”

A mostly-white continuation of former black-music trends many black listeners had rejected. (Which is nothing new. Black audiences have long rushed to the Star-Off Machine after a black-music subgenre had been infiltrated, then taken over, by white acts, from big-band to doo-wop.)

This new white-rock-rap genre (KKBY calls it “the new heavies”) is at least as stoopid as most other Rawk waves over the past three decades. What’s different is the level of personal aggression–a rage often not against the machine but against one’s peers and the opp. sex. Rock n’ roll used to be about trying to seduce, to woo, to attract sex. The “new heavies” are often boasting to other males about their sexual prowess, while snarling at females to shut up and take it.

I’m really trying not to sound here like an old fogey–or worse, an old rock critic. There are too many parallels in what I’ve written above to the ’50s critics who loved authentic black R&B but loathed that commercialized white teenybopper corruption of it known as rock n’ roll.

And, there are some signs of non-idiocy within the genre. Eminem, at times, approaches the electro-laconic wit of, say, MC 900 Ft. Jesus. And those old-school new-heavies, the Beastie Boys, know the ultimate idiocy of the “Wigger” stance (and also shouldn’t be blamed too much for having some of the same retro-fetishes as Quentin Tarantino).

But compare these SK8-rappers to the best real hiphop and a wide creative chasm remains. Even the most corporate of fin-de-siecle R&B product-suppliers, such as Missy Elliott or Sean Combs, has a sense of the complex potentials of their music you can’t find in Insane Clown Posse, and certainly not in white doodz who wish they were Insane Clown Posse.

TOMORROW (in person):Get everyone you know, plus any strangers you might run into, to get to the big promo event and reading for The Big Book of MISC. tomorrow night, Aug. 26, 7:30 p.m., at the venerable Elliott Bay Book Co. Be there or be isogonal.

TOMORROW (on the site): The beauty that is The Imp.

IN OTHER NEWS: The good news is Seattle’s public-access cable channel’s getting a massive infusion of new studio equipment. The bad news is the whole studio will be out of commission for at least two months during the renovation, so everything on Channel 29 (probably starting in October) will be pre-taped on location, or a rerun of an older studio show.

ELSEWHERE: This new learning-tools site for schoolkids features some of the dumbest adult-writers-trying-to-sound-young slang ever attempted–even in the plot summaries of major books!… Speaking of learning tools, will Microsoft’s new print dictionary include nonstandard definitions for “monopoly,” “coercion,” or “protection racket”?… Now, for a limited time only, you can make up your own Netcolumn. The professionally-constructed ones you find here at Misc. World, of course, will still be better….

MAMAS OF INVENTION
Aug 24th, 1999 by Clark Humphrey

AMERICANS LOVE stuff, particularly if it’s new and/or wacky and/or ingeniously-thought-up stuff.

Here’s some of the funnest stuff I’ve found lately.

  • Joe’s Cool Website of Mid-Century Modern Design: Cool phones, concept cars, Howard Miller clocks, lounge chairs suitable for Austin Powers set decorations, assorted “houses of the future,” graphic design fads, and more, all from the jet-stream ’50s to the late-mod ’70s. Some stuff’s for sale, some for rent, some just to admire.
  • Incredibly Strange Religious Records: You can laugh at this music if you wish, like the webmaster of this site apparently wants you to. I, however, prefer to sit a little further back and be inspired by these amateur and semipro songwriters’ absolute 100-percent sincerity and irony-free conviction. Part of the same “Post-Fundamentalist Press” site that also brings you the “Adult Christian Sex Tour” and “The XXX-Rated Bible.”
  • Sex Gum: From Mexico (one of the less completely-devout of the Catholic countries), and “based on the wisdom of the American pre-Hispanic cultures,” chewing gums laced with herbal ingredients which will supposedly “increase and strengthen sexual power in men and sexual appetite in women.” The site sells three different types (Sex Gum, Love Gum, Extasy Gum), in wholesale quantities. (I’ll let you make your own “stick” or “chewing” puns.)
  • Stupid Candy and Gifts: “Bad taste never tasted so good,” or so this site claims. It sells edible novelties such as Choka Ca-Ca, described as “chocolate fudge in a diaper (Yep, we’ve hit a new low).” Plus Lick’n Erasers (“eraser-shaped candy that fits over the end of your pencil”), computer-shaped pasta, Wheel of Fortune logo wristwatches, gummi pizza, gummi rats, a Jell-O mold in the shape of a human brain, and something called Lava Lick (“It’s like putting the Sixties in your mouth”).
  • Vinyl Video: John Logie Baird, a Scotsman who spent decades on a doomed effort to invent “mechanical telecision,” once tried to preserve his signals on phonograph-like discs. Some enterprising Austrians claim to have finally perfected the process. They say their adepter, added to any LP turntable, will play 15 minutes of lo-res, b/w video with mono sound, on collectible picture discs. The site’s sample scenes involve haunting, near-abstract imagery (almost as beautiful as the images made by Fisher-Price’s beloved, discontinued PXL toy camcorder), set to Euro-electronica dance music.

IF YOU MISSED last week’s wonderful live reading/event, there’s another promo for The Big Book of MISC. this Thursday, Aug. 26, 7:30 p.m., at the venerable Elliott Bay Book Co. Be there or be isogonal.

IN OTHER NEWS: After 17 years as the virtual living room of the Belltown arts community, the beloved Two Bells Tavern, where some of our live Misc.-O-Rama events have been held, is in the process of being sold to ex-NYU prof Tina Morelli-Lee and hubby Jeffrey Lee. So far, the new mgmt. promises to keep everything the same (i.e., no hard alcohol and no Bud Light; and it’ll still serve some of the city’s best burgers but won’t serve French fries).

TOMORROW: The return of bad-white-boy rock; just as stoopid as ever.

ELSEWHERE: Zero Population Growth claims Seattle’s America’s most kid-friendly city. (As long as you’re not a kid who wants to see live music or put up street posters)… Surreal, haunting, quasi-Goth–who doesn’t love dream stories?…

WORDS TO LIVE BY
Aug 20th, 1999 by Clark Humphrey

BEFORE WE BEGIN TODAY, a gracious thanx to all who came to my big event last night at the downtown Seattle Borders Books. Another such event’s coming next Thursday (see below). And, again, apologies to those who couldn’t access this site earlier this morning. (I’ve been assured, again, that it won’t happen again.) But for now…

I CLOSED LAST NIGHT’S SHOW with some aphorisms and words-O-wisdom. Here are some more. (Some of these I’ve used before, on the site or in other scattered writings.)

  • The baby boomer bragged about how, when he was younger, he marched and protested to try and save the world. The world listened to the boasts and replied, “That’s all nice, but what have you done for me lately?”
  • If we printed fewer poems about trees, we’d have more trees.
  • A Libertarian is a Republican who smokes pot.
  • I watch TV, I eat meat, I shop at regular grocery stores. I demand the right to not be a hippie. (And that doesn’t mean I’m a Republican.)
  • If God didn’t want men to watch TV, He wouldn’t have shaped the corners of the screen like a woman’s shoulders.
  • Women aren’t just equal to men; men are equal to women too.
  • Women and men are just about equally ignorant of one another; but the men are a little more likely to admit it.
  • Everybody’s ignorant about something.
  • Just about everybody’s beautiful when naked. It’s just that some bodies are better made for wearing clothes than others. But our great-grandchildren will have see-thru, microchip-controlled force fields to keep the air around their bodies warm and dry, so they won’t need to bother with this dilemma.
  • People have been having sex since before you were born.
  • Everybody loves black music as long as it’s at least 20 years old and performed by white people.
  • For 23 years, the picture-postcard view of downtown Seattle from Alki Beach has been of a bookshelf of office towers, bookended by the Space Needle and the Kingdome (both of which were reproduced as Jim Beam bottles you could theoretically use for real bookends). When the Dome goes, that nearly-symmetrical image will go too. Safeco Field just doesn’t make a good bookend.
  • The Mariners keep winning at home! Are they feeding Safeco Field food to the opposing teams or what?
  • We can’t afford all the money that’s moving here.
  • Science uses big words for the sake of precision. Pseudoscience uses big words for the sake of intimidation. Social science uses big words for the sake of obfuscation.
  • If you can’t stand the heat, move to Anchorage.

IF YOU MISSED last night’s wonderful live reading/event, there’s another promo for The Big Book of MISC. next Thursday, Aug. 26, 7:30 p.m., at the venerable Elliott Bay Book Co. Be there. Aloha.

MONDAY: How can one be “hip” when there are fewer and fewer “squares” to rebel against?

ELSEWHERE: Some of the top cliches in bad erotic writing: “Everyone has a perfect body you could break a brick on…” “All women in a position of authority have secret desires to be submissive…” “Any woman described as having a scientific occupation will invariably be occupied with making her breasts larger…” “No jealousy…”

ANYTHING CAN HAPPEN DAY
Aug 12th, 1999 by Clark Humphrey

ANOTHER BREAK from the full-length webcol, for the old-time Misc. schtick of little stuff from all over.

AD VERBS: Remember when we all used to scoff at ’60s pop hits being turned into dumb commercials? Now there’s ’80s pop hits given the same treatment.

Johnson & Johnson, f’rinstance, is selling contact lenses with a recent dance remix of the Dream Academy’s “Life In a Northern Town,” a Britpop tune originally about survival amid the economic doldrums in a forlorn industrial corner of Thatcher’s England. Not necessarily the most appropriate tuneage for aggressive brand-name marketing or for a product that promises ease and security. Speaking of relief…

TAKING THE CURE: In 1976, Canadian raconteur Don Herron (best known stateside as Hee Haw radio announcer Charlie Fahrquarson) called Gerald Ford’s swine-flu vaccine crusade “the cure for which there is no known disease.” In 1989, I heard a doctor on TV predict the 21st century would be all about hooking everybody on genetically-engineered prescriptions to treat conditions not yet known to exist.

Now, Michelle Cottle in the New Republic reoprts on the newest psychological/medical fad, “social phobia” (what used to be called chronic shyness, before drug companies said they had a treatment for it):

“…One wonders how much of the nation’s social phobia epidemic stems from our growing sense that everyone should be aggressive, be assertive, and strive for the limelight. Forget the life of quiet contemplation. We are a society that glorifies celebrities and celebrates in-your-face personalities such as Jesse ‘The Body’ Ventura….

“Increasingly, we have little admiration–or patience–for those who don’t reach out and grab life by the throat. And if we have to put one-eighth of the population on expensive medication to bring them into line, then so be it.”

LOCAL PUBLICATION OF THE DAY: Ready for yet another upscale “urban lifestyle” journal? The publishers of Metropolitan Living sure hope so. It’s slick, it’s colorful, it’s bright and breezy. And, of course, it has acres of restaurant reviews (though, unlike certain no-longer-published mags of its ilk, it doesn’t charge restaurants money to get reviewed.) And, like slick monthlies in some other towns, it’s got articles about topics other than the proper spending of consumer wealth–what a concept! (Free from plastic boxes all over town, or from 400 Mercer St., #408,Seattle 98109.) Elsewhere in magland…

THE SO-CALLED ‘REAL AMERICA’ has finally gotten to see the endlessly hyped Talk magazine, and it’s not half as stupid as its own publicity makes it out to be. There’s long articles, many of which are about big real-life concerns rather than just about The Least Interesting People In The World (a.k.a. “celebrities”). And it was an encouraging surprise to see, in a mag so full of fashion ads, a long expose of misery and survival in a Mexican sweatshop town (though none of the lo-wage factories in it were identified as garment plants). Just one major beef: It was released to stores in NY/LA/DC on Aug. 3, but not to anyplace else until Aug. 10. Hey, editrix Tina Brown: That old capital/provinces cultural-dichotomy concept is SO passe. And a minor beef: It’s co-owned by Disney thru its Miramax Films subsidiary. When Miramax was independent, it claimed to be about film-as-art, not Hollywood hype. While Talk’s content isn’t as hype-centric as initially feared, its promotional campaign certainly is.

PASSAGE OF THE DAY (from the film version of The Road to Wellville: “If I hear one more word of German, I’m going to take this stick and shove it up your alimentary canal!”

MARK YOUR CALENDAR!: More live events for The Big Book of MISC. are comin’ at ya. The next is Thursday, Aug. 19, 6 p.m., at Borders Books, 4th near Pike in downtown Seattle. If you can’t make it then or want a double dose, there’s another one the following Thursday, Aug. 26, 7:30 p.m., at the venerable Elliott Bay Book Co. Be there or be a parallellogram.

TOMORROW: How prejudiced are you? No, not “those people” in bad-old Mainstream America, YOU!

ELSEWHERE: A slew of books tells Brits how Americans manage, more or less, to mix the “pluribus” with the “unum”…

YOU YANG?
Aug 10th, 1999 by Clark Humphrey

AFTER ALL the self-parodic inanities on TV attempting to appeal to “guy culture,” finally came something that put it all into historical perspective.

A brief voice-over passage in Showtime’s Sex in the 20th Century noted that, as a Nation of Immigrants, the U.S. has long had a sub-population of sexually-frustrated single men. In the late decades of the last century and the early decades of this one, our big cities and factory towns teemed with tens of thousands of Euro and Asian settlers who came over without moms, wives, girlfriends, or kids. (Chinese-American immigration was officially male-only for many of those years.) Westward expansion created frontier and ex-frontier communities comprised mostly of unattached males.

It was for the patronage of these men that America developed the rowdy saloon culture and the raunchy/satirical burlesque shows (both of which were fought by women’s suffragists and other “progressives”). Not to mention underground porn, “stag films,” and a once-booming brothel biz. (The documentary noted that prostitution provided the only coital opportunity for these immigrant and pioneer men.)

Anti-censorship and sex-freedom advocates today like to blame the differences between U.S. and Euro sexual attitudes on a damaging legacy of Victorian prudes. What the activists neglect is how and why those prudes came into power in the ’20s and early ’30s.

As women gained more political clout (and neared gender-parity in these ethnic and working-class communities), their sociopolitical agenda almost always included the eradication of the “guy culture” of the day.

To the “progressives” and the suffragists as well as to social conservatives, the world of single men, especially the hedonistic elements of that world, represented everything icky and worse–pre-penecillin STDs, the self-destruction of alcoholism and other drug abuse, laziness, cynical attitudes toward patriotism and the work ethic, a flight from family commitments, disrespect toward women, profanity, irreligiousness, and the pigsty living conditions still commonly associated with the undomesticated male.

So the saloons were shut down (Prohibition speakeasies had a much more coed patronage). Red-light districts were quashed one city at a time. Burlesque houses were busted. By 1934, Hollywood movies were strictly censored.

(One could also mention the implicit racism in the progressives’ “clean” and bland civic aesthetic, but that’s a topic for another day.)

To this day, the single male is treated as a social-sexual pariah in many “progressive” and even “alternative” circles, and not just by radical feminists either. Some “sex-positive” authors and journals that advocate women’s sexual liberation have a heck of a hard time accepting non-gay men’s right to sexual expression (except in the forms of masochism or servility). “Swing” clubs routinely ban femaleless males from attending; the more wholesome nudist movement used to do the same (some nudist camps still do).

And the current wave of “guy” magazines and TV shows wallow in icky-man stereotypes as universal givens.

And both corporate porn and reverse-sexist writers allow no exceptions to the premise of male=brainless sleazebag.

But beneath all these one-dimensional overgeneralizations lies a basic truth. Men need women. For sex and a hell of a lot more.

And women may no longer need men for brute-strength labor or protection, but a society unbalanced on the yin side is just as dysfunction as a society unbalanced on the yang siade.

Gender parity will happen not just when men are forced to fully respect women, but when women allow themselves to fully respect men. Then more women and men might feel more comfortable with their own yang energies, and we could all feel freer to enjoy wining, dining, coiting, and other hedonistic pleasures.

MARK YOUR CALENDAR!: More live events for The Big Book of MISC. are comin’ at ya. The next is Thursday, Aug. 19, 6 p.m., at Borders Books, 4th near Pike in downtown Seattle. Be there or be rhomboidal.

TOMORROW: Web journals, the evil (or is it good?) twins of Weblogs.

ELSEWHERE: UK essayist Theodore Dalrymple’s got an alternate explanation for our troubles accepting the hedonistic life: “Southern Europeans seem to enjoy themselves more than northerners”–including the Brits and much of the folks in their North American ex-colonies–“who regard even pleasure as a duty… in the south one drinks to enhance life, in the north to drown one’s sorrows”… Once there was a nation whose leaders openly denounced liquor, tobacco, and even meat, and which funded pioneering cancer research. Too bad about some of its other policies…

IRONY DEFICIENCY
Jul 27th, 1999 by Clark Humphrey

A COUPLE WEEKS OR SO AGO, we mentioned a Village Voice essay suggesting that not only was “grunge” dead, so was the whole Blank Generation zeitgeist, destined to be remembered only as a brief interregnum of punkesque angst and cynicism prior to the present neo-gilded age of corporate teenybopper pop and happy techno.

I’d already been reading discussions of (for lack of a slicker catch phrase) the “new sincerity” on the Wallace-l email list, devoted ostensibly to discussions of the author David Foster Wallace. He’d written an essay (collected in A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again) calling for young writers to forego what he saw as a recursive trap of self-referential, “hip” irony, and to instead “dare” to be sincere, even at the risk of cloyingness.

In the essay, Wallace asks for a new movement of literary “anti-rebels,” who’d rebel against the perpetual “revolutions” of corporate-media culture. These would be writers “who have the childish gall actually to endorse and instantiate single-entendre principles. Who treat of plain old untrendy human troubles and emotions in U.S. life with reverence and conviction. Who eschew self-consciousness and hip fatigue.”

The recent discussions on Wallace-l have concerned whether the “reverence and conviction” shtick has already taken over in certain areas of the culture with shorter trend-lead-times than literature. One contributor to the list recently claimed irony was still prominently air-quoting its way through the social consciousness, and cited the enduring TV popularity of Seinfeld, Beavis and Butt-head, Mystery Science Theater 3000, and Jerry Springer as his support.

This drew a response from list member Marie Mundaca:

“You’re talking about the shows we would watch (meaning, we as people who read wallace as opposed to Barbara Cartland). most shows are not Seinfeld or South Park. Most shows are Friends, Jesse, Moesha, Felicity, and Providence. Three of the shows you mentioned ARE NO LONGER IN PRODUCTION (Seinfeld, Beavis and MST3K), and one has been showing six-year-old reruns in many markets (Springer).

“I think you’re thinking about a time a few years ago when the media disovered that ‘Gen X’ had money to spend. now the media markets to baby boomers and their teenage offspring. you’ll note that Backstreet Boys, Britney Spears and Ricky Martin are infinitely more popular than, say, Orgy or Radiohead or Pearl Jam or whoever else people my age are supposed to be listening to.

“Sincerity is way in these days dude, and I for one don’t like it.”

Later on in the cyber-conversation, Mundaca added these additional thoughts:

“With many of the people I come in contact with, Backstreet Boys, 98 Degrees, Britney Spears,Shania Twain, Touched by an Angel–these are sincere, even tho they are clearly dishonest. None of those people even write their own songs, and Touched by an Angel is just some marketer’s response to ‘family values.’

“Whereas South Park is a really sincere movie, I thought. Kyle and what’s his name, Stan, they want do so something really good–save the lives of two comedians, at the risk of their own lives! While the parents, who probably watch Touched by an Angel, are ready to kill.

“I’ve read several of the books wallace extols the virtues of, being real sincere and all, and basically they’re nothing but well-written pablum. I know he’d say that [Richard Powers’s] The Gold Bug Variations was a more sincere book than [Ronald] Sukenick’s Blown Away; I’d have to disagree with him vehemently.

“If we were to have D.F.W. here and could ask him, ‘Hey Dave, who’s more sincere, Paul McCartney or Kurt Cobain?,’ you know who he’d pick. And he’d be wrong.

“Sarcasm and irony can get a point across just as well as ‘sincerity.’ It’s just a more subtle form of communication.”

When I emailed Mundaca for her permission to post these remarks here, I compared her remark about the decline of hip-ironic TV to the Voice piece about the eclipse of youth angst. Her response:

“The real irony, for me, is that when the media picked up on us (i.e., when Nirvana hit), most of my friends were angry that we were being treated like a demographic, insisting that we were all much too complex to be described by numbers and a catchy name. And now they’re all mad that we only had a few years of being pandered and marketed to.”

Our lesson here? Apparently, you’re damned if you do, and touched by an angel if you don’t.

ELSEWHERE: Smug.com has more evidence that the alterna-rock-listenin’ folks (or at least their old-school-punk predecessors) are now on the flip side of a generation gap. In ‘Viva La Drone,’ Joe Procopio writes of young-adult know-it-alls in offices, stuck behind 35-ish know-nothing “arrogant bastards” who will ruin their youngers’ careers and souls until “the revolution” comes. He doesn’t specify what that revolution might be.

TOMORROW: If the Net really does kill newspapers as we know them, it could be the best thing papers have ever had.

'90S NOSTALGIA, PART 1
Jul 23rd, 1999 by Clark Humphrey

JUST WHEN YOU THOUGHT all that could be said and done about the early-’90s Seattle music scene had been said and done, here come more exploiters.

At 2 p.m. today, a crew from New Line Cinema will go to the Seattle Center Fountain outside KeyArena to, as a flyer soliciting extras says, “re-create Kurt Cobain’s memorial vigil for a new feature film.”

The movie, tentatively titled A Leonard Cohen Afterworld (after a line in Cobain’s song “Pennyroyal Tea”), is the first fiction feature directed by Todd Philips (who made the documentaries Frat House and Hated: GG Allin and the Murder Junkies).

The script is by Scott Rosenberg, who was involved in the “hip”-violence travesty Things to Do In Denver When You’re Dead, and apparently involves a pair of troubled teens who have various misadventures while on the road to Seattle for the Cobain memorial.

Some movie-rumor websites claim it might also include “speculations” on what may or may not have happened among Cobain and his inner circle during the rocker’s last days–a plot-concept which should immediately make all of you collectively go “Ick!” or at least “Potential Ick!”

ON A SLIGHTLY HAPPIER NOTE, and as I’ve hinted at in prior installments, I’ve secured the rights to my 1995 book Loser: The Real Seattle Music Story back from the original publisher. I’ve also arranged financing for an updated second edition, which, if all goes right, should be available from this site and in stores in October, four years after the first edition.

While I never got rich off the old book, I did become known as a Seattle-music-scene expert, at least to European magazine interviewers. Since the Dutch magazine that talked to me over a year ago, I’ve since talked to a Swiss magazine and now the Italian mag Jam.

Here’s some of what I told that publication’s writer:

  • Q: The common opinion is that Seattle music evolved in a certain way because of the town’s isolation from the music industry. Now that the ‘grunge hysteria’ is over, the scene returned to a certain grade of isolation? Or maybe the Nirvana/Pearl Jam/Soundgarden/Alice In Chains’ success changed things forever?

    A: Things changed. There’s clubs to play at now. And experienced producers and promoters and studios and indie labels. The reason there didn’t turn out to be a “Next Seattle” (the next town for the music industry to scoop up promising acts from) was because Seattle had been more than just a source of talent. It was a nearly self-sufficient infrastructure for making and promoting music.

    And that’s what’s largely survived the music industry’s retreat.

  • Q: When the so-called ‘grunge’ became hyped, the Seattle community reacted with comprehensible hostility. Is anything changed now that the media hype is over, or what you call “timidity” (‘Loser’, Introduction) still rules?

    A: A lot of people here wanted to succeed but only on their own terms. They wanted to be known as artists and/or entertainers, not as media celebrities or as fodder for MTV. The last thing some of them wanted was for their messages of anger and angst to be re-interpreted as something hot and commercial.

  • Q: Seattle now and then (then=beginning of the Nineties): is the economic and social situation different? If it’s so, what are the repercussions on the music scene?

    A: A decade ago, the conventional wisdom was that economic stagnation would be permanent, that young people had no real future.

    Today, there’s lots of money flying about, much of it held by college-educated white young adults working at software and Internet companies. The young successors to yesterday’s “going nowhere generation” are now (at least some of them) among the most privileged young people America has ever produced. This new audience has influenced the nightlife scene greatly. The dance club ARO.Space and the new Cyclops restaurant/bar, to name only the most obvious examples, are shrines to the new monied youth.

    But for those without high paying cyber-careers, wages have stagnated and the cost of living has risen (especially housing, which has become ridiculously expensive with the cyber-monied people willing to pay just about anything). It’s harder to be a self-employed artistic-type person (or an artistic-type person with an undemanding day job) here; even as the social pressure rises (even in “alternative” circles) to be upbeat and positive and success-minded at all times.

  • Q: Maybe I’m wrong, but I think that mass media didn’t put much emphasys on the political consequances of an underground and decentralized music community like the Seattle one. I mean, when you put under discussion the starmaking process at every level, the consequences are political, economical and social. When you say “I don’t wanna be part of it”, you’re saying that something has to change. Do you agreed? If it’s so, do you think that nowadays is still the same in the Seattle musical scene? Do you think that, in this field, the incredible success of bands like Nirvana, and Pearl Jam brought positive things? Or it was all in vain?

    A: What was initially intended by most of its musicians to be a reaction against music-industry fads became promoted by the industry and the media as just another music-industry fad. In the short term, that had the effect a conspiracy theorist might imagine: Audiences tired of the hype and, around 1996-97, turned away.

MONDAY: More of this.

ELSEWHERE: Jessica Hopper, editor of the Chicago zine Hit It or Quit It (linked here via the indie-rock portal site Insound), has a quaint glossary of indie-scene terminology. Example: “Nature Melt: Hippies dancing or gathering en masse. A: ‘We had to leave Lilith Fair early, the nature melt was out of control.'”

A STRIKING PROPOSAL
Jul 21st, 1999 by Clark Humphrey

A YEAR OR SO AGO, we wrote about the revived interest by hip bars in bowling iconography (balls, pins, shirts, trophies).

But a revival of bowling images, we warned, didn’t necessarily mean a revival of bowling.

In the past 15 years or so, the Seattle area’s lost the Green Lake Bowl, the Lake City Bowl, Village Lanes, and Bellevue Lanes (now a Barnes and Noble!). The DV8 dance club and the Alley minimall on Broadway also stand where lanes and pinsetters once ruled.

While entertainment complexes of all shapes and sizes have sprouted around here lately, real bowling hasn’t been part of any of them.

One oft-cited reason: Those Kids Today aren’t supposed to be interested in the kegler’s art; and adults are finding it harder to keep league-bowling commitments.

A more plausible reason: Entertainment-center developers simply felt bowling couldn’t provide income-per-square-foot at the rates of, say, video games or water slides.

But now, the Jillian’s yuppie pool-hall chain wants to build Seattle’s first new bowling alley in decades. The proposed 16-lane alley would be built next door to the existing Seattle branch of Jillian’s on south Lake Union. That building now houses an outlet of the Video Only big-box retail chain, central Seattle’s only remaining consumer video-electronics store. But that joint could easily move, maybe to one of the many new retail developments downtown.

Knowing Jillian’s pool schtick, you can expect a Jillian’s bowling alley to be all fancy-schmancy and costlier than your average suburban pin palace. But as long as it’s not too gussied-up, it’d be a great step toward bringing back one of America’s greatest pastimes.

Now, if only Fox Sports Net would bring back the women’s bowling matches that had been a weekly staple of its predecessor channel Prime Sports.

Speaking of the grace of the female form in motion, clueless mass-media people went mildly agog last week when a member of the victorious U.S. Women’s World Cup team took off her jersey at the end of the match, revealing a new-model Nike sports bra that’s far more modest than what beach-volleyball women wear. For one thing, end-of-match shirt-doffing is a long tradition in men’s soccer. For another thing, I dunno about that particular player but women’s soccer has this rep of attracting women who enjoy other women’s physiques. In other words, what’s the big deal here? (The obvious answer: A lot if you’re Nike and you’d like lotsa free publicity for your new garment.)

TOMORROW: The end of Seafirst Bank as we know it?

ELSEWHERE: Thanks to nubbin.com, here are some English-language instructions on Japanese-model Pokemon character model kits:

“Our Company motto is ‘Give safe and enjoyable toys and dreams to children’. That is why we research & improve out produets all the time. This might create out toys to be slightly different from each other amony same iteu depending. On the diffarent lots. As for as out product quality is concerned we pay extre affention…

“It is advised not to take off all the parts because you may may be confused. Tske off and assemble one by one according. Some parts are point so please take care not to be hart.”

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