Johnny Massacre’s Ultrasound. Animated by Peabo.
I wonder if there is a single US American of any political point of view who doesn’t adore Warren Buffett.
A brilliant investor, capitalist, richest man in the world, a man of modest living, a philanthropist, a non-materialist, a father and husband. Such are the beautiful, intuitively contradictive descriptions of a man one would expect only to exist between two hard covers.
This mind reels to find the fitting hyperbolic pseudo-juvenile hipster title for the man: Buddha Capitalist Jesus Ninja Pretty-kitty Ben Franklin Warren “Buba Fett” Buffett? One name you can’t hang on him is “pimp daddy”; sucka’s beyond bling. That guy is so good with the Benjamins that he doesn’t give a damn about the Benjamins.
Anyhoo, Cenk interviewed his son Peter on TYT recently. No bombshell revelations here, but still an interview that I most enjoyed watching (the first half was a bit difficult because I hate hearing a grown-ass-man inflecting his declarative statements as questions. Nonetheless, a great interview.)
Better to walk than ride a reluctant horse
Will Finn goes on a bit about compostion and staging and goes off on a crappy latter-day Flintstones’ cell. With its stiff staging, jumbled perspective. Not too mention that Pebbles and Bam Bam are present at all. And where’s Betty’s feet? The only ones not breathing through their mouths are the dog and Barney. Barney is the coolest on in the picture; I like how he cranes in the slightest bit. It’s like he’s posing next to a bunch of manikins.
But that all just fun. Willy really get down to the silly. Dig it:
I am sorry to keep beating up on this image, but
the longer I look at it, the more it pisses me off.
I just got back home from our gig at the Schwarmstedt Strassenfest
, a big sprawling streetfest in Lower Saxony. Schwarmstedt, not far from Hanover, is a cute little town whose architecture reminds me strongly of the Brentwood Public Library. Red brick buildings (there were lots of red brick roads too) abounded, often with religious texts on them.
Our part was with the stage hosted by the non-profit Lachende Kinder e.V.
Earlier in the day, two semi-finalists from RTL’s talent show performed: the adorable Carlotta Truman, and the precocious Richard Istel, both age 9 or so. Carlotta was joined by her little sister, who worked the stage like any three-year old would. Richard sang Leonard Cohen’s “Halleluja”, gracefully omitting that one verse alluding to cunnilingus.
We played following a massive fireworks display, reportedly sponsored by the EU to the tune of 7000 Euro. The Cashbags were in exceptionally good form, despite the drummer breaking 3 sticks between soundcheck and the first 3 numbers. And when Johnny ventured to sing an alternate text “Daddy Sang Bass” (Mama ________) the guitarist was so surprised he dropped his pick.
The sound crew was super excellent. They were crazy tight and got it done in lickety-split. Good lads, too.
The inn where we stayed was nigh opulent. Chickens lived next door, so I had a chance to practice my bock bocks, with some success.
Maintaining quality was a constant challenge because distinguishing the real stuff from the fake was never easy. One time, harvesters sold her regular beans glued to unidentified dung.
We played “Stupidest People” for the preliminary round of the Songslam. There’s no video available just yet from Friday, but here’s the song from Zille:
But wait there’s more! Remember that time we got “inspired” and came up with the idea for she was? That was also the day of conception for 4 or 5 more proto-songs, amongst them, this one. And at least for this example, the first run improv worked out for the whole song, save a few revisions.
That was funner than a barrel of monkeys. We didn’t win though; we didn’t even place. We’re not disappointed though; all of the contestants were really great. I mean it: some of those guys were really, really good. It was a fun evening. Stay tuned, videos are to come, maybe!
We done been written up.
While it’s cool to get half a page of writeup, this was a tad mysterious for us because we knew nothing of it. Secondly, we really need to get a new photo taken. You’ll notice that it’s not me in the background. Thirdly, while what they wrote about my dad is technically true to the best of my knowledge, it seems a bit misleading to me. It’s not like the sickly man and my dad ever actually met face to face, and I sure as heck didn’t, unfortunately.