Here’s the link.
Before I get too precious or laudatory, I’ll let the pictures do the rest of the talking.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Christopher
Virtues and Vices: Welcome to Dhaka
It’s a healthy admixture of envy and admiration that fills the soul, when one realizes that a friend has taken their artistic endeavours to a new level. A close personal friend of your friendly neighbourhood bloggers has done just that. With an aesthete’s eye that threatens to idealize the thrashing, terrene throngs of humanity, Parker Mah has taken the sewers, slums, and smog of Old Dhaka and made them breathtaking.
Christopher
John McCain le gusta "gasolina!"
Bill Richardson just ain't gonna cut it.
As evidenced by his run in recent polls, John McCain is a wily campaigner who is full of surprises. But I never expected to see this image: McCain urging Puerto Rican reggaeton superstud, Daddy Yankee to hug and kiss a crowd of screaming, hispanic, high school-age girls.
This Monday, McCain and Yankee, the author of El Cartel: The Big Boss and a DJ for a radio station in Grand Theft Auto IV, appeared together at his wife's high school in Phoenix, Arizona.
The press got a gimme gag, unable to entirely restrain their snickers at McCain's reported affection for Yankees biggest hit, Gasolina. The lyrics of which, we can only hope will become the McCain's energy plan anthem:
A ella le gusta la gasolina! Dame mas gasolina!
(She likes gasoline! Give me more gasoline!).
According to the Wall Street Journal, when the rapper was asked about the true meaning behind the lyrics, he replied wryly:
"Energy independence."
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Christopher
A Gang of Snaps
A Santa-endowed twenty-five dollars scorching the insides of his pocket, the boy walks hurriedly ahead of his mother, his brow half furrowed in the effort to resist skipping down the mall concourse. Agreeing to meet up in the parking lot, he sprints off, beelining for the Music World. He quickly scans past rows of black-and-white parental advisory stickers, settling his greedy eyes on the prize he covets. The portrait of a smoked-out, cocksure gaze stares back at him. He grabs the disc before heading to the For Sale bin to pick up some seven-dollar mom insurance. The store clerk eyes the parental advisory sticker lazily, but mercifully runs the eleven-year-old’s purchase through the scanner, bagging the tape and CD. Just outside the store, the boy examines the contents of the bag with a sense of criminal awe. He stuffs the plastic square into his waistband like it was a shiny nine-milli, and heads out to the car and his waiting mother.
“What did you buy, dear?”
He proffers the distractor, the ploy, the seven-dollar, family- friendly copy of Hammer’s 2 Legit 2 Quit.
“A rap tape.”
It's just that gangster glare, with gangster raps
that gangster shit, that makes the gang of snaps
In short order, winding and grinding replaced wining and dining as the romantic activity du jour (though wining and dining consisted of Doritos and a sucked-back slurpee by the basketball court). John Singleton replaced George Lucas as everyone’s favourite director. School dances were shut down when Dre informed Eazy-E, Luke, and Tim Dog that they could “eat a big fat dick” over the loud speaker. Squirt guns were cocked at rakish angles.
Album appreciation was a different beast. No google-shortened attention spans here. With the hyper-focus of a sonar operator, I listened to “Let Me Ride” dozens of times in succession, rapping along to the lyrics and feeling a little tug inside when Dre told off Aerosmith (and by association Run DMC). To this day, I’m awed by the power of Chomsky’s language acquisition device every time my brain proves capable of recalling the cadence and flow of a random Daz Dillinger verse.
Filled with thick, grungy bass lines culled from Parliament's funkadelic discography, catchy flute solos, sparse tinkling piano, deceptively simple keyboard loops, and smoky Donny Hathaway chestnuts, the Chronic's production was sugar sweet enough to help Tipper Gore's children`s medicine go down. Combined with Snoop's laid-back slang and Dre’s penchant for pithy aphorism, it was an irresistibly seductive formula. Not to mention that, for a 5"0 elementary school kid used to being fucked with on a regular basis, violent, cocksure revenge raps have an undeniable appeal.
It was a simpler time. Beats, blunts, and bitches had almost as universal an appeal as sex, drugs, and rock and roll. No hipster bullshit about listening to the album ironically or appreciating the ongoing creation of the gangsta mythos. Despite the painful, pinpoint accuracy of this analysis, I’d be lying through grill-less teeth if I tried to pretend for a moment that there was anything self-aware about a pre-adolescent (half-)whiteboy asserting that the Man with the Master Plan was indeed “a nigga with a mutha’fuckin’ gun.”
After the jump, peep the Snoop flat top fade...
Monday, July 28, 2008
Jedd
Recall, reeling, counter-clockwise (with a 2HB)
Right up there with losing one's virginity, getting high, and drinking a two-litre bottle of Crystal Pepsi in one sitting, buying your first record was one of those things you just wanted to get over with so you could start talking about it like it happened years ago. Early adolescence is so fickle: there were mere milliseconds between becoming aware of music culture and then discovering that all your peers have already popped their musical fruit. Even the geeks dug out their parents' Zappa records months ago, and now they're talking like they have gym class with Dweezil (good lord, right now they are probably feeling up the grade seven junior cheerleader in their basements while listening to "Billy the Mountain"...all twenty minutes of it).
Years later, dear reader, all we can do is look back on those fuzzy paranoid moments and dream of all the cool shit we would have done if we knew, then, what we finally learnt last night (or so). But I think the opposite holds, too: I've always held the opinion that most of my post-pubescent life has been performed to the (faint) soundtrack of those early, foolish cassette tapes I played, jammed, pencil-rewound, and forgot in Mordie's walkman. (Mordie--name altered--was that guy who had his nail-bitten finger on the trigger back in, like, grade five. When he belted out approximations of the chorus to "Smells Like Teen Spirit," I thought he was quoting a sketch I had missed from You Can't Do That on Television. I know you knew him too.) Can we still remember all the lyrics? Can the chorus from "Quiet Steam" still conjure up the same dizzying sense of postmodern levity as it did during that brain-frozen summer, speed-drinking Pepsi slurpees on Oak street?
There's only one way to find out. Snowjobbers, your mission, if you can take it, is to Bittorrent the first album you ever bought, listen through it, and blog your thoughts, emotions, and latent childhood regrets.
Years later, dear reader, all we can do is look back on those fuzzy paranoid moments and dream of all the cool shit we would have done if we knew, then, what we finally learnt last night (or so). But I think the opposite holds, too: I've always held the opinion that most of my post-pubescent life has been performed to the (faint) soundtrack of those early, foolish cassette tapes I played, jammed, pencil-rewound, and forgot in Mordie's walkman. (Mordie--name altered--was that guy who had his nail-bitten finger on the trigger back in, like, grade five. When he belted out approximations of the chorus to "Smells Like Teen Spirit," I thought he was quoting a sketch I had missed from You Can't Do That on Television. I know you knew him too.) Can we still remember all the lyrics? Can the chorus from "Quiet Steam" still conjure up the same dizzying sense of postmodern levity as it did during that brain-frozen summer, speed-drinking Pepsi slurpees on Oak street?
There's only one way to find out. Snowjobbers, your mission, if you can take it, is to Bittorrent the first album you ever bought, listen through it, and blog your thoughts, emotions, and latent childhood regrets.
Sunday, July 20, 2008
sym
Letting Off Like Bernard Goetz
I know it's taken a little while to answer my own question, and I do have a bushelful of excuses, but what can I really say? Apologies are for the weak. I do what I like to do and I listen to what I like to listen to, but if the oppo research file got a hold of my iPod, I'd be dead in the water. I like music with horrible values - music that tells listeners that by working hard, ruthlessly destroying all competitors, and always excelling at all that you do, you will achieve all material pleasures a mind could think of. You would think that this music could soundtrack the Republican National Convention, but I have a feeling we will not see John McCain shimmying to "Nuthin' But a G Thang" anytime soon. Enjoying gangsta rap, the music that extols the virtues of capitalism at its lowest forms, is an immediate disqualifier. Sure, the genre is misogynistic, homophobic, and at times racist. But so are some elected officials.
It took the first song (I think I win!). It's an amazing posse cut by the late great Big L that features one of Jay-Z's earliest appearances. I love Big L. I'm fucking doomed, in this life and the next.
Where to begin here? Big L opens the track, and his verse alone is enough to keep me from running this place. In the second line he brags about getting men lynched, and in the third one he claims to kill infants for ten cents. The fourth line is about being a street genius with a unique penis, and the seventh line is about killing queers. Apparently Big L fills his enemies with so much lead that they can use their dick for a pencil, gets more pussy by accident than most people get on purpose, and sells so much drugs that he is "fucking with more keys than a janitor." I don't condone any of these behaviors in the slightest, but does it make me a bad person (possibly a sociopath) that I enjoy hearing these behaviors rapped about?
A candidate can call The Godfather his favorite film and never have to hear about it again (Scarface could raise some eyebrows, though.) Barack Obama can even endorse The Wire without being held responsible for the murder and drug use depicted in the show (though the campaign is still young- someone on the internet will write something stupid about Obama and the Wire, eventually). All I'm asking for is for gangsta rap fans to be treated the same as everyone else, just like all the people that like boring music that isn't about guns or money. Maybe one day people will be judged by the content of their characters, not the content of their iPod. Maybe one day Big Pun fans and Common fans will live in harmony. But until that magical day comes, if I ever run for office, I'm scrubbing this post off the internets. I don't mean to sound pompous (I actually do) but Middle America is not ready for this much honesty. Peace.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Jedd
Weezy is running the world (and I'm not)
Slow week here at TSJ. Unfortunately for me, I have neither the excuse of being clinically photosensitive, nor beach-combing in Mykonos, or whatever blissful bohemian activity/location that halfer is involved in right now.
My presidential campaign lasted quite a bit longer than I expected. I need to add more Slayer to my iPod. I made it through nine songs before being impeached. There were two junctures, prior to my forced resignation, where I was out of the party bed and sleeping on the couch:
Song #2 - "Cali Dro"
Birdman & Lil Wayne
Before Lil Wayne was a national hero, he was still a rapper. Weezy became America's (other) darling in June by selling 1,005,545 albums in his first week of release, earning a name-drop by one of our competitors for office (who, I might add, really has only a slightly less dirty iPod playlist than mine). His work prior to the bestselling Carter III bears the rawness and candour that one might expect of the Artist as a Young Thug. Training wheels before Ducatis, brass before ice in the Rollie. "Cali Dro" is about Dro from Cali. Would Buddha by any other name smell as skunk? Yes, at least after checking with Urban Dictionary, and the border cops keep a long cheat sheet in their Blackberries. So with verses like this, I thought I was KO in the second round:
I reckon five pounds is a felony in most states, even if we aint trying to hustle. However, on the last verse, Kurupt drops a brilliant safety:
John P. Walters, you just got slammed! Doctors do request dope weed! Dope medicinal weed! That's why Weezy keeps a fill of that grass like a farmer! Kurupt's "bad bitch" may just be the mthrfckn law. So I'm still in the game. Then there's this:
Song #8 - "Shut the Club Down"
Girl Talk
I can't wait to dance to this in someone's kitchen. Few summer house parties have been entirely GT-free for the last three years, and rightly so. Gregg Gillis hath returned most triumphantly, choosing to stick with the basic program, outlined in his third album, for his fourth. But sometimes, the popular choice is absolutely the right one. This track features several mashup peaks (you know, when retro guilty pleasure hook x gets dropped under crunk chorus y and all your friends yell the Soulja Boy "oooooh!"), one of which is Rich Boy's "Throw Some D's" over Aphex Twin's sweetly understated "Girl/Boy Song." The effect is downright sentimental, which is rare in mashup-land, but when Rich Boy boasts of buying a Cadillac over those Aphex string plucks, I really feel proud of all the piggy-banking he must have had to do. Another moment is Avril's "Girlfriend" over Dolla and T-Pain, which I actually feel pretty okay about. It's like, working doggedly to launch Avril's last metallic dirigible during the previous spring has at least resulted in this singular hip instant, albeit one that will never be mentioned on the Pink One's website (which, compared to said dirigible of an album, is like a graceful swan of a social networking site). Here's the thing, though: at around the third minute, we get The Cool Kids' "Gold And A Pager" over "A Whiter Shade of Pale." Now, the eponymous sample from the Kids track is, of course, N.W.A.'s "Fuck Tha Police." So, yeah. Slide that past Ann Coulter. But assuming the bloggers miss that one, I'd be dead at yard ten.
Song #10 - "This Is Hardcore"
Pulp
Ten years later, America is still not ready for Jarvis Cocker to say "you make me hard," "teenage wet dream," or even "that goes in there." Nothing goes anywhere in abstinence-only education. This is the man who would later opine that "cunts are still running the world," and this is an idea to which I'm far too congenial to continue running in this honorable race. No, America, I know which way the exit is. You don't have to lead me by the arm.
NB: of amusement to me were some of my randomomizer's softcore picks, which included Marcia Aitken's "I'm Still In Love," Spoon's "Finer Feelings," and Gram Parson's "Love Hurts" (recorded just one year before Nazareth made high school prom history). The middle ground is for emos and Ryan Adams.
My presidential campaign lasted quite a bit longer than I expected. I need to add more Slayer to my iPod. I made it through nine songs before being impeached. There were two junctures, prior to my forced resignation, where I was out of the party bed and sleeping on the couch:
Song #2 - "Cali Dro"Birdman & Lil Wayne
Before Lil Wayne was a national hero, he was still a rapper. Weezy became America's (other) darling in June by selling 1,005,545 albums in his first week of release, earning a name-drop by one of our competitors for office (who, I might add, really has only a slightly less dirty iPod playlist than mine). His work prior to the bestselling Carter III bears the rawness and candour that one might expect of the Artist as a Young Thug. Training wheels before Ducatis, brass before ice in the Rollie. "Cali Dro" is about Dro from Cali. Would Buddha by any other name smell as skunk? Yes, at least after checking with Urban Dictionary, and the border cops keep a long cheat sheet in their Blackberries. So with verses like this, I thought I was KO in the second round:
We Smoke Thunda, It Put Me Under
Im Talkin About Straight Purple Kush That Thundas
See I Be Fuckin With Them Trees Cuz Im Straight Out Tha Jungle
Keep About Five Pounds And We Aint Even Tryin To Hustle
Yall Already Know How That Go
I reckon five pounds is a felony in most states, even if we aint trying to hustle. However, on the last verse, Kurupt drops a brilliant safety:
I Got That White Ivory Ice Tee
Docters, Requestin Dope Weed
Blazin Up So Much Bomb
I Got A Bad Bitch On My Side
John P. Walters, you just got slammed! Doctors do request dope weed! Dope medicinal weed! That's why Weezy keeps a fill of that grass like a farmer! Kurupt's "bad bitch" may just be the mthrfckn law. So I'm still in the game. Then there's this:
Song #8 - "Shut the Club Down"Girl Talk
I can't wait to dance to this in someone's kitchen. Few summer house parties have been entirely GT-free for the last three years, and rightly so. Gregg Gillis hath returned most triumphantly, choosing to stick with the basic program, outlined in his third album, for his fourth. But sometimes, the popular choice is absolutely the right one. This track features several mashup peaks (you know, when retro guilty pleasure hook x gets dropped under crunk chorus y and all your friends yell the Soulja Boy "oooooh!"), one of which is Rich Boy's "Throw Some D's" over Aphex Twin's sweetly understated "Girl/Boy Song." The effect is downright sentimental, which is rare in mashup-land, but when Rich Boy boasts of buying a Cadillac over those Aphex string plucks, I really feel proud of all the piggy-banking he must have had to do. Another moment is Avril's "Girlfriend" over Dolla and T-Pain, which I actually feel pretty okay about. It's like, working doggedly to launch Avril's last metallic dirigible during the previous spring has at least resulted in this singular hip instant, albeit one that will never be mentioned on the Pink One's website (which, compared to said dirigible of an album, is like a graceful swan of a social networking site). Here's the thing, though: at around the third minute, we get The Cool Kids' "Gold And A Pager" over "A Whiter Shade of Pale." Now, the eponymous sample from the Kids track is, of course, N.W.A.'s "Fuck Tha Police." So, yeah. Slide that past Ann Coulter. But assuming the bloggers miss that one, I'd be dead at yard ten.
Song #10 - "This Is Hardcore"Pulp
Ten years later, America is still not ready for Jarvis Cocker to say "you make me hard," "teenage wet dream," or even "that goes in there." Nothing goes anywhere in abstinence-only education. This is the man who would later opine that "cunts are still running the world," and this is an idea to which I'm far too congenial to continue running in this honorable race. No, America, I know which way the exit is. You don't have to lead me by the arm.
NB: of amusement to me were some of my randomomizer's softcore picks, which included Marcia Aitken's "I'm Still In Love," Spoon's "Finer Feelings," and Gram Parson's "Love Hurts" (recorded just one year before Nazareth made high school prom history). The middle ground is for emos and Ryan Adams.
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
sym
Why all our dreams will be crushed, eventually
One of the great modern rituals of campaigning is the unveiling of personal tastes, blanded out in order not to offend even the most culturally backwards constituent. And nothing could be more revealing than the songs in each candidate's iPod. The best word for Barack Obama's taste in music is, um, tasteful. He showed his iPod to Rolling Stone and unsurprisingly, the magazine didn't find anything that the average Rolling Stone reader isn't familiar with. He likes the Stones, Dylan, Coltrane, and Stevie Wonder above everyone else (nothing wrong with that) and also Sheryl Crow (Hillary come back, all is forgiven). He also likes some modern hippa-to-the-hoppa stuff like Jay-Z, but only with much furrowing of the brow about the misogyny and materialism and the message it sends his daughters. It's sad to say, but Obama just might be a Rockist. Of course, if Obama so much as breathes in or around one of these evil rapper folks, a million idiotic right-wing blog posts will spring forth. Blandness is probably the best defense. At least he loves The Wire.You probably don't think John McCain has an iPod. After all, he is unable to answer the question "Mac or PC?" (Seriously, there's a 50% chance this guy will be the most powerful person in the world in a few month. This planet is the best.) But here is his personal listening device, in all its glory:
He leaked his current on-the-go playlist to Daily Kos:Woodchopper's Hornpipe
The True And Trembling Brakeman
That Crazy War (of 1812)
Globe Trotting Nelly Bly
Adam In The Garden Pinnin' Leaves
Roll The Cotton Down
Granny Does Your Dog Bite
Hop Up, My Ladies
Cluck Old Hen
Boys All My Money's Gone
Gonna Keep My Skillet Greasy
and an ode toA his lovely wife Cindy:
Liberty Off The Corn Liquor Still
Actually, John McCain doesn't have an iPod. But his trust-fundie "Blogette" daughter sure does! And she likes Ryan Adams! And Incubus! And Joss Stone's horrible White Stripes cover "Fell in love with a boy"! If John McCain can't stop his own daughter from listening to Ryan Adams, how can we expect him to be able to stand up to Ahmadinejad? (Hmm, can't seem to find any iPod playlists on his blog. On the other hand, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad has his OWN BLOG! Maybe Buzz Bissinger was right about blogging after all...)
But the purpose of this post isn't merely to implore good Americans to never, ever, EVER elect a hipster First Daughter. Because as fun as it is to point and laugh, your three correspondents have their own musical skeletons in their, um, iPod closets. This week's question/experiment, courtesy of the DCeiver, is:
1. Take out your iPod (or Zune, I guess...really, who buys a Zune?)
2. Press shuffle songs.
3. Answer the following: a) How many songs before you come to one that would absolutely disqualify you from being President? b) What is that song?
Monday, July 7, 2008
Jedd
Bye Bye, love
I'm under the gun with this topic. It's been a crazy week. To explain my haste, perhaps now is a good time to point out an important office rule at Today's Snow Job. We believe in currency. No, not the cheddar. We check that like food inspectors. I mean regular posting. Naturally, none of your faithful writers have ever been accused of being less than completely committed to keeping your gReader inbox filled with tasty work-stalling temptations, but we like to utilize cold threats in order to keep us in line. To that end, our rule is this: if one of us misses a week's response to the topic du semaine, our fellow staffers get to masquerade as the offending writer, and post whatever they please.
A fate worse than death: the tarnishing of an iReputation. And I'm about to be overdue on my post. Thus, herewith.
Fuck: Caroline Kennedy
It's so not cheating the question. As one of three nominees for Obama's actual veep-vetting team, she is a pivotal player in the HBO neo-soap that is the current phase of Decision '08. As such, she needs praise, she needs encouragement, she needs well-earned stress relief. I'm not saying that I personally am a just desert for all her efforts/needs; believe it or not, this game is largely hypothetical (if not entirely mastrubatory--though maybe Caroline and I can help each other out). Neither am I suggesting that Mr. busy-busy-interior-designer Schlossberg isn't performing his marital responsibilities regularly. Only that, given Sweet Caroline's tireless service to the Obama campaign machine, girl deserves some groupie lovin'. Is there--or has there ever been--a Pamela Des Barres of the American electoral parade? ("Interns," you say? Don't be silly, I have worked with interns and they are all nuns and monks.) This could be the ultimate field trip for the wayward, green, idealogically frustrated polisci grads of America. (Or Canada? Can one obtain a visa for deep-job-shadowing? If you ain't no retard, holla "we want green card!")
Ahem, anyway. I would make apologies for sharking vastly older women, except Shmuel has already (indirectly) admitted to lurking in the Today's Snowjob basement, fooling around with Mr. Angry Potato-Head. The gloves are off.
Marry: Wesley Clark
Having just attended a rocking wedding, I have nuptial thoughts on the brain (I also have a hangover on the brain; apologies in advance for typos/bad judgments). In contrast to the popular romantic notion of accepting your mate out of the factory with all of his/her attendant flaws, there exists the much more populist approach of hankering down to some serious post-marriage soulmate-improvement. Bring in the fixer-upper at a bargain (goes the argument), and you'll have an affectionate 'other for life. Yes, Wes most likely banished himself from Obama's cabinet, let alone the VP ticket, with his incautious remarks on July 1st. Yet, ladies, Wes remains a provisional catch, and with a little passive-aggressive badgering, he could be much better. He could, for example, try avoiding making gaffes in criticizing the other team's lack of real military experience and its irrelevance to the oval office. Clark, after all, is brimming with Tom Clancy-esque war stories--such as leading his company on in Vietnam after being capped four times with an AK-47--and ostensibly this experience could have lent some political heft to Obama's foreign policy positions. At least, they might have, if Clark was univocally against the Iraq Resolution, which he appears to not be sure about at all. Less flip-flopping, more soundbite-worthy responses in debates. As a fellow with purported professorial aspirations, it shouldn't be surprising to hear him respond to pointed yes-or-no questions with a grey response, but them media-jackals like to speak in binary. This is the digital age. Sweetie, clarify your position on authorized use of force! And don't chew with your mouth full! Maybe, by 2016, I can take you out in public.
Kill: Evan Bayh
In an effort to provide some contrast to my peers' positions (and to attempt to cover up my incapacity to discuss this topic at their level), I'm leaving HRC out of this. To paraphrase David Plotz, "the number one problem with Clinton as VP is Bill. The second is Hillary." Exchange rank as you see fit. But look. As this goes to print, now that Shmuel's BFF is out of the race, Bayh for VP is being publicly bought at USD$7.8, twenty cents above the last Bill Richardson bid, but at less than half the going price for Hillary (I don't really understand that website, but I am intrigued). That makes him one preference below the first (mistake) for some quantity of armchair pundits who suck at poker. Furthermore, a DC blog points out that ObamaBayh08.com forwards to the Democratic Party's website (generally a smart move; Apple waited and had to buy iphone.com from Linksys at great expense; however other domain name combos with the names of other veep hopefuls have not been bought or forwarded). Yet, the man is clinically deceased. He's an incarnate monotone. His soul is monotone. He makes flat-fingered gesticulations with alternating hands every 4.7 seconds. He should be narrating relaxation tapes. His voice makes me want to be buoyant in a calm, flat pool. He's like a documentary about sand. He's like a Bergman film, only not as funny.
A fate worse than death: the tarnishing of an iReputation. And I'm about to be overdue on my post. Thus, herewith.
Fuck: Caroline KennedyIt's so not cheating the question. As one of three nominees for Obama's actual veep-vetting team, she is a pivotal player in the HBO neo-soap that is the current phase of Decision '08. As such, she needs praise, she needs encouragement, she needs well-earned stress relief. I'm not saying that I personally am a just desert for all her efforts/needs; believe it or not, this game is largely hypothetical (if not entirely mastrubatory--though maybe Caroline and I can help each other out). Neither am I suggesting that Mr. busy-busy-interior-designer Schlossberg isn't performing his marital responsibilities regularly. Only that, given Sweet Caroline's tireless service to the Obama campaign machine, girl deserves some groupie lovin'. Is there--or has there ever been--a Pamela Des Barres of the American electoral parade? ("Interns," you say? Don't be silly, I have worked with interns and they are all nuns and monks.) This could be the ultimate field trip for the wayward, green, idealogically frustrated polisci grads of America. (Or Canada? Can one obtain a visa for deep-job-shadowing? If you ain't no retard, holla "we want green card!")
Ahem, anyway. I would make apologies for sharking vastly older women, except Shmuel has already (indirectly) admitted to lurking in the Today's Snowjob basement, fooling around with Mr. Angry Potato-Head. The gloves are off.
Marry: Wesley ClarkHaving just attended a rocking wedding, I have nuptial thoughts on the brain (I also have a hangover on the brain; apologies in advance for typos/bad judgments). In contrast to the popular romantic notion of accepting your mate out of the factory with all of his/her attendant flaws, there exists the much more populist approach of hankering down to some serious post-marriage soulmate-improvement. Bring in the fixer-upper at a bargain (goes the argument), and you'll have an affectionate 'other for life. Yes, Wes most likely banished himself from Obama's cabinet, let alone the VP ticket, with his incautious remarks on July 1st. Yet, ladies, Wes remains a provisional catch, and with a little passive-aggressive badgering, he could be much better. He could, for example, try avoiding making gaffes in criticizing the other team's lack of real military experience and its irrelevance to the oval office. Clark, after all, is brimming with Tom Clancy-esque war stories--such as leading his company on in Vietnam after being capped four times with an AK-47--and ostensibly this experience could have lent some political heft to Obama's foreign policy positions. At least, they might have, if Clark was univocally against the Iraq Resolution, which he appears to not be sure about at all. Less flip-flopping, more soundbite-worthy responses in debates. As a fellow with purported professorial aspirations, it shouldn't be surprising to hear him respond to pointed yes-or-no questions with a grey response, but them media-jackals like to speak in binary. This is the digital age. Sweetie, clarify your position on authorized use of force! And don't chew with your mouth full! Maybe, by 2016, I can take you out in public.
Kill: Evan BayhIn an effort to provide some contrast to my peers' positions (and to attempt to cover up my incapacity to discuss this topic at their level), I'm leaving HRC out of this. To paraphrase David Plotz, "the number one problem with Clinton as VP is Bill. The second is Hillary." Exchange rank as you see fit. But look. As this goes to print, now that Shmuel's BFF is out of the race, Bayh for VP is being publicly bought at USD$7.8, twenty cents above the last Bill Richardson bid, but at less than half the going price for Hillary (I don't really understand that website, but I am intrigued). That makes him one preference below the first (mistake) for some quantity of armchair pundits who suck at poker. Furthermore, a DC blog points out that ObamaBayh08.com forwards to the Democratic Party's website (generally a smart move; Apple waited and had to buy iphone.com from Linksys at great expense; however other domain name combos with the names of other veep hopefuls have not been bought or forwarded). Yet, the man is clinically deceased. He's an incarnate monotone. His soul is monotone. He makes flat-fingered gesticulations with alternating hands every 4.7 seconds. He should be narrating relaxation tapes. His voice makes me want to be buoyant in a calm, flat pool. He's like a documentary about sand. He's like a Bergman film, only not as funny.
Bayh-Bayh, love. If I'm not fired for any of the above, I'll be back later in the week.
sym
Today`s Snow Job gets results
That was fast: ``Virginia Sen. Jim Webb took himself out of contention for the vice presidency today, releasing a statement saying he intends to stay in the Senate and "under no circumstances" would he be Sen. Barack Obama's running mate.``
While Sen. Webb did not explicitly cite this blog`s opposition to his vice presidential campaign, it is obvious to most objective observers that no VP pick could ever withstand such a cogent and thoughtful argument. Message to all other pols: don`t fuck with us. You could be next.
While Sen. Webb did not explicitly cite this blog`s opposition to his vice presidential campaign, it is obvious to most objective observers that no VP pick could ever withstand such a cogent and thoughtful argument. Message to all other pols: don`t fuck with us. You could be next.
Sunday, July 6, 2008
sym
The Big Sky Pick
All right, enough pussyfooting around. Obama's VP pick should be....this guy:
More youtube: Schweitzer on Charlie Rose.
Schweitzer ad for Sen. Jon Tester.
Schweitzer talking smack about millionaires from New York City.
Bonus VP pick: John McCain should pick Alaska Governor Sarah Palin. She beat a corrupt Republican establishment on a reformist platform, has credibility on energy issues, and John McCain would get even more donuts from the media if he picked a woman.
Lots of foreign policy experience, could step in on day one, impeccable energy credentials, knows how to be VP, and is currently working on the finishing touches of an eternal peaceful, wealthy, and environmentally sustainable utopia on the alternate Earth in which aging Palm Beach Jews did not vote for Pat Buchanan. That's who Obama should ask first, but I have a gut feeling Al Gore would say no. Like any sane person, Gore was not happy campaigning for President. He seems far more comfortable in his own skin these days (I've never seen An Inconvenient Truth, so I'm basing this on Gore's guest appearance on 30 Rock.)
Assuming Al Gore's unavailable, Barack Obama should marry:
Who? Why, that's Montana Governor Brian Schweitzer. He's the first Democrat to win the Montana Statehouse since 1988 and remains one of the most popular Governors in the USA. He won in 2004, when Democrats were losing elections all across the country. John Kerry, in particular, was losing Montana by 20 points at the time (When Salon asked Schweitzer if the average apolitical Montanan knew that Kerry opposed gay marriage, he replied "Oh, they'd probably think that he married some guy.") He always wears a bolo tie, has the most famous political pet dog since Checkers, and gave his wife a Smith and Wesson for their 25th anniversary. He would be a nice complement to Obama - despite only four years of experience as Governor, he has an impressive list of accomplishments, and he ran with a Republican lieutenant governor, which would bolster Obama's image as caring more about results than party affiliation. He doesn't have much real foreign policy experience, but besides being right about the war on Iraq (unlike any number of old foreign policy hands), he spent seven years irrigating the desert in Saudi Arabia and thus speaks fluent Arabic. Lord knows the Republicans can find a way to make speaking Arabic a political liability, but it would be a real asset in an Obama administration.
Would he help Obama win? Montana only has three electoral votes, and it's been a consistently red state in the past. However, Obama is doing very well in polls there, and Schweitzer is extrememly popular there - much more popular than say, John Edwards is in North Carolina. And you never know, Montana's three votes could be the ones that make the difference. But beyond that, he's a great talker who would be a cheerful and articulate mouthpiece for the Democratic message. His endless quotability (combined with his unlikely 2004 win) have launced a thousand liberal magazine puff pieces. His relaxed and comfortable speechmaking style would be a nice contrast to Obama's equally effective soaring rhetoric. He can quickly and cogently make the case that only energy independence can extricate America from eternal entanglements in the Middle East (though he does tie this in with a debatable call for dependence on clean coal). He would definitely defuse the NRA's attack on Barack Obama; his gun control policy is "you control your guns and I'll control mine." Despite (or perhaps because of) his love for guns Markos Mouslitas refers to Obama-Schweitzer as his "dream ticket".
Even if Obama picks Schweitzer and loses Montana, Schweitzer is popular all over the Mountain West region, which is going to be crucial in November. And if I could choose how Obama expands the electoral map, I'd rather he win in the libertarian West than in the authoritarian South or the Midwest. If Obama owed his victory to the West and to a vehement critic of the Patriot Act and national ID cards like Schweitzer, it would effectively prevent the backsliding on civil liberties issue that we've already begun to see from Obama. Bill Clinton won because of the South and governed like a moderate Southern Governor. Barack Obama has the chance to do much much more.
A final quote from Schweitzer on how Democrats can win nationally:
"You know who the most successful Democrats have been through history?" he asks. "Democrats who've led with their hearts, not their heads. Harry Truman, he led with his heart. Jack Kennedy led with his heart. Bill Clinton, well, he led with his heart, but it dropped about 2 feet lower in his anatomy later on.
"We are the folks who represent the families. Talk like you care. Act like you care. When you're talking about issues that touch families, it's OK to make it look like you care. It's OK to have policies that demonstrate that you'll make their lives better -- and talk about it in a way that they understand. Too many Democrats -- the policy's just fine, but they can't talk about it in a way that anybody else understands."
More youtube: Schweitzer on Charlie Rose.
Schweitzer ad for Sen. Jon Tester.
Schweitzer talking smack about millionaires from New York City.
Bonus VP pick: John McCain should pick Alaska Governor Sarah Palin. She beat a corrupt Republican establishment on a reformist platform, has credibility on energy issues, and John McCain would get even more donuts from the media if he picked a woman.
Christopher
Beware The Blog!!!
John McCain hates bloggers.
And John McCain doesn't just talk smack. John McCain backs it up.
Ostensibly concerned with the propagation of child porn on the internet, Mr. McCain introduced a 2006 bill which adds weight to his more recent comments.
Saddled with the less than catchy title, “Stop the Online Exploitation of Our Children Act of 2006,” Mr. McCain’s legislation requires, among others, any individuals with comment boards and any hosts of internet content to file reports on violations or face fines of up to $300,000.
So, to our readers , I understand your desperate need for child pornography, but we here at Today’s Snow Job would appreciate it if you took your business/hobby to a more appropriate venue.
And may I also say that it truly warms my heart to know that we’ve joined a community that inspires such ire from their elders. It’s akin to that rush of exhilaration a teenage mailbox baseball player feels when he connects a mid-sized blue boy for a ground-rule double.
On that note, I'll leave you with another anti-blogger greatest hit:
I remember saying to Shmuel and Jedd before embarking on this venture that our creed would be:
We are “dedicated to cruelty,” “speed,” and “journalistic dishonesty.”
Let us know how we’re doing.
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
sym
Celebration Guns
Fuck:
Jim Webb. *shudder*
Now that you've had time to recover from that unpleasant image (warning: not the last one this post), let's review the pros and cons of Senator Webb (D-VA) as Obama's VP pick. Like your average skinny pale urban lefty who's never fired a gun (my family's lineage includes draft-dodgers from four continents in at least five separate wars) and generally likes the stuff white people like, I'm a big Jim Webb fan. Chris' post below highlights five considerations to look at when picking a VP, and Webb helps with at least three of them. He's from Virginia, an electorally significant swing state Obama is making a serious push for. His military heroism and leadership experience shores up Obama's foreign policy inexperience, and he is a self-described proud redneck Appalachian, a symbol of the same segment of the electorate that Obama had trouble reaching during the primary. But even though he provides balance to the ticket, he still reinforces several of Obama's key messages. He was as prescient on Iraq as Obama, and I'd really like to see the people who were right about Iraq from the beginning rewarded for their political courage. He's a former Republican (appointed to Reagan's cabinet) and Washington outsider, which dovetails nicely with Obama's message of change and unity.
Beyond that, he's just cool. As a freshman Senator, he passed a veterans' benefits bill that both Bush and McCain opposed and are now trying to take credit for. When asked by George Bush how his son (who was fighting in Iraq at the time) was doing, he told the President he wanted his son to come home. Bush, with typical tact, said "“I didn’t ask you that, I asked how he’s doing,” and Webb, like so many of us, was "tempted to slug the commander-in-chief". Another of his signature issues is the rising economic inequality and disappearance of class mobility in America. He wrote highly acclaimed Vietnam War novels, and Obama/Webb would be the most literary ticket since the ill-fated Duke/Gifford campaign of 2000. And while Webb is a conservative on some issues, his deviations from the Democratic party line are of the type that would help Obama win. Dude loves himself some guns, to the point that his aide was arrested for carrying Webb's loaded pistol through the senate. I totally understand. If I was a new Democratic Senator in Bush's Washington, I'd be packing heat too - you never know when Dick Cheney's going to "take you on a hunting trip." This scandal would reassure gun-lovers that President Obama won't take their guns away. Webb's also critical of affirmative action. Barack Obama would be smart to embrace a move to a class-based rather than race-based affirmative action, on the grounds that his own kids really don't need any special treatment.
So far, so awesome. What's the problem here? Well, Jim Webb, like all great writers, drew on his most profoundly affecting experiences to forge in the smithy of his soul the uncreated conscience of his race. The Republicans are going to destroy him. From the third paragraph of his 1979 article "Why Women Can't Fight":
"I once woke up in the middle of the night to the sounds of one of my machinegunners stabbing an already-dead enemy soldier, emptying his fear and frustrations into the corpse's chest. I watched another of my men, a wholesome Midwest boy, yank the trousers off a dead woman while under fire, just to see if he really remembered what it looked like."
Where to begin? How long after Obama picks Webb as VP that Chris Matthews and Wolf Blitzer are earnestly asking whether Obama supports voyeurist necrophilia? Remember, this is the media that has made an issue of Obama's bowling score. They would love an excuse to talk about dead naked Vietnamese women for three months. And this is just Webb`s articles. When Karl Rove has wet dreams (what? I already warned you!), he dreams of attack ads based on Webb's novels. For example, from Webb`s 2002 novel:
“A shirtless man walked toward them along a mud pathway. His muscles were young and hard, but his face was devastated with wrinkles. His eyes were so red that they appeared to be burned by fire. A naked boy ran happily toward him from a little plot of dirt. The man grabbed his young son in his arms, turned him upside down, and put the boy’s penis in his mouth.”
Webb's opponent in his 2006 Senate run tried this same attack, and it ended up backfiring. Webb responded to the attack by reading a list of his novels blurbs, exposing himself as that most unattractive of people, a writer who has memorized his own clippings. (In the same speech, he also claimed to have written more books than George Bush has read.) Dick Cheney's wife published her own works of lesbian erotica (there was a clear warning! It was way back in the second sentence of the post!), and got away with it, but she's a Republican, so it was ok. On the other hand, the effectiveness of these attacks may be blunted by the fact that Lost Soldiers was praised by none other than Vietnam Vet and Arizona Senator John McCain.
However, even if these attacks don't work, there's still the matter of a 1979 article by the name of "Why Women Can`t Fight." It`s a virulent attack on women in the military and specifically women entering the Naval Academy, at one point listing the ratio of men to women in the dorms and calling them a "horny woman's dream". He's concerned both for the male students receiving unfair evaluations from female supervisors, and for the female students who are apparently losing their gender:
"It is a delicate balance for any Academy graduate, looking back on those four years and measuring what he received in return for pouring every last hot ounce of his youth into Annapolis. But part of the price, until now, has never been sexual identity."
Um, ew. According to women who attended the Naval Academy in the early '80s, the article was used as an excuse to mistreat female students. The politics of selecting Webb are pretty crap, as an anti-feminist would be particularly galling to women disappointed by Hillary's narrow loss. But on the merits, choosing Webb would be even worse. Obama should not choose someone who was on the wrong side of a civil rights struggle. I'll leave you with one more quote, from the novel Something to Die For (and seriously, you were warned. If you choose to keep reading, that's your decision, not mine):
“Fogarty . . . watch[ed] a naked young stripper do the splits over a banana. She stood back up, her face smiling proudly and her round breasts glistening from a spotlight in the dim bar, and left the banana on the bar, cut in four equal sections by the muscles of her vagina.”
Now, Today's Snow Job has no problems with consensual public acts between a woman and a banana. But I have a feeling that the American media will. When Obama spoke out against invading Iraq, he famously said he wasn't opposed to all wars, just to dumb wars. Going to battle with Jim Webb at his side is a dumb war.
Jim Webb. *shudder*
Now that you've had time to recover from that unpleasant image (warning: not the last one this post), let's review the pros and cons of Senator Webb (D-VA) as Obama's VP pick. Like your average skinny pale urban lefty who's never fired a gun (my family's lineage includes draft-dodgers from four continents in at least five separate wars) and generally likes the stuff white people like, I'm a big Jim Webb fan. Chris' post below highlights five considerations to look at when picking a VP, and Webb helps with at least three of them. He's from Virginia, an electorally significant swing state Obama is making a serious push for. His military heroism and leadership experience shores up Obama's foreign policy inexperience, and he is a self-described proud redneck Appalachian, a symbol of the same segment of the electorate that Obama had trouble reaching during the primary. But even though he provides balance to the ticket, he still reinforces several of Obama's key messages. He was as prescient on Iraq as Obama, and I'd really like to see the people who were right about Iraq from the beginning rewarded for their political courage. He's a former Republican (appointed to Reagan's cabinet) and Washington outsider, which dovetails nicely with Obama's message of change and unity.
Beyond that, he's just cool. As a freshman Senator, he passed a veterans' benefits bill that both Bush and McCain opposed and are now trying to take credit for. When asked by George Bush how his son (who was fighting in Iraq at the time) was doing, he told the President he wanted his son to come home. Bush, with typical tact, said "“I didn’t ask you that, I asked how he’s doing,” and Webb, like so many of us, was "tempted to slug the commander-in-chief". Another of his signature issues is the rising economic inequality and disappearance of class mobility in America. He wrote highly acclaimed Vietnam War novels, and Obama/Webb would be the most literary ticket since the ill-fated Duke/Gifford campaign of 2000. And while Webb is a conservative on some issues, his deviations from the Democratic party line are of the type that would help Obama win. Dude loves himself some guns, to the point that his aide was arrested for carrying Webb's loaded pistol through the senate. I totally understand. If I was a new Democratic Senator in Bush's Washington, I'd be packing heat too - you never know when Dick Cheney's going to "take you on a hunting trip." This scandal would reassure gun-lovers that President Obama won't take their guns away. Webb's also critical of affirmative action. Barack Obama would be smart to embrace a move to a class-based rather than race-based affirmative action, on the grounds that his own kids really don't need any special treatment.
So far, so awesome. What's the problem here? Well, Jim Webb, like all great writers, drew on his most profoundly affecting experiences to forge in the smithy of his soul the uncreated conscience of his race. The Republicans are going to destroy him. From the third paragraph of his 1979 article "Why Women Can't Fight":
"I once woke up in the middle of the night to the sounds of one of my machinegunners stabbing an already-dead enemy soldier, emptying his fear and frustrations into the corpse's chest. I watched another of my men, a wholesome Midwest boy, yank the trousers off a dead woman while under fire, just to see if he really remembered what it looked like."
Where to begin? How long after Obama picks Webb as VP that Chris Matthews and Wolf Blitzer are earnestly asking whether Obama supports voyeurist necrophilia? Remember, this is the media that has made an issue of Obama's bowling score. They would love an excuse to talk about dead naked Vietnamese women for three months. And this is just Webb`s articles. When Karl Rove has wet dreams (what? I already warned you!), he dreams of attack ads based on Webb's novels. For example, from Webb`s 2002 novel:
“A shirtless man walked toward them along a mud pathway. His muscles were young and hard, but his face was devastated with wrinkles. His eyes were so red that they appeared to be burned by fire. A naked boy ran happily toward him from a little plot of dirt. The man grabbed his young son in his arms, turned him upside down, and put the boy’s penis in his mouth.”
Webb's opponent in his 2006 Senate run tried this same attack, and it ended up backfiring. Webb responded to the attack by reading a list of his novels blurbs, exposing himself as that most unattractive of people, a writer who has memorized his own clippings. (In the same speech, he also claimed to have written more books than George Bush has read.) Dick Cheney's wife published her own works of lesbian erotica (there was a clear warning! It was way back in the second sentence of the post!), and got away with it, but she's a Republican, so it was ok. On the other hand, the effectiveness of these attacks may be blunted by the fact that Lost Soldiers was praised by none other than Vietnam Vet and Arizona Senator John McCain.
However, even if these attacks don't work, there's still the matter of a 1979 article by the name of "Why Women Can`t Fight." It`s a virulent attack on women in the military and specifically women entering the Naval Academy, at one point listing the ratio of men to women in the dorms and calling them a "horny woman's dream". He's concerned both for the male students receiving unfair evaluations from female supervisors, and for the female students who are apparently losing their gender:
"It is a delicate balance for any Academy graduate, looking back on those four years and measuring what he received in return for pouring every last hot ounce of his youth into Annapolis. But part of the price, until now, has never been sexual identity."
Um, ew. According to women who attended the Naval Academy in the early '80s, the article was used as an excuse to mistreat female students. The politics of selecting Webb are pretty crap, as an anti-feminist would be particularly galling to women disappointed by Hillary's narrow loss. But on the merits, choosing Webb would be even worse. Obama should not choose someone who was on the wrong side of a civil rights struggle. I'll leave you with one more quote, from the novel Something to Die For (and seriously, you were warned. If you choose to keep reading, that's your decision, not mine):
“Fogarty . . . watch[ed] a naked young stripper do the splits over a banana. She stood back up, her face smiling proudly and her round breasts glistening from a spotlight in the dim bar, and left the banana on the bar, cut in four equal sections by the muscles of her vagina.”
Now, Today's Snow Job has no problems with consensual public acts between a woman and a banana. But I have a feeling that the American media will. When Obama spoke out against invading Iraq, he famously said he wasn't opposed to all wars, just to dumb wars. Going to battle with Jim Webb at his side is a dumb war.
Monday, June 30, 2008
sym
For tomorrow's Hussein Goldbergs and Barack Wongs
As a guy with a funny semitic name, I fully approve of this. It may not do much to allay wingnut fears that Obama secretly wants to kidnap their children and put them in evil terrorist MUSLIM training camps, but then again, nothing will.
Sincerely,
S. Yehusseinua M.
Sincerely,
S. Yehusseinua M.
sym
If it bleeds for a week and doesn't die...
Kill: 
Yeah, I know Chris killed her off last post. I don't care. The chalk has not been drawn yet. As my man Barack knows, Hillary's one chick that's hard to bump off (Hezbollah-style fist jab, dawg!) Seriously, Hils, the country's had its fun with you, but it's just not that into you. She's like a cross between Jason and the Glenn Close character from Fatal Attraction. To paraphrase the Governor of California in True Lies "female presidential candidates: can't live with 'em, can't kill 'em". How can anyone expect to be elected president if they make Tucker Carlson "involuntarily" cross his legs when he hears her speak? If she reminds Mike Barnicle of "everyone's first wife standing outside a probate court," how can she win? Amirite? Fellas?
I think one lesson we can draw from this Bataan Death March of a primary campaign is that while both racism and sexism are still forces in American politics, pundits and pols can make truly repellent sexist comments and continue to have successful careers. (Another is that we need a better media, but that's not happening anytime soon). The same, as George "macaca" Allen, Don "nappy-headed hos" Imus, and Trent "Strom Thurmond forever!" Lott can attest to, is just not true for racist comments. Don't believe me? Here's 62 examples. Particularly galling were the howls of skepticism after she allowed her eyes to become teary in New Hampshire, as if Bill Clinton, John Edwards, or Bush pere and fils would never speak with a catch in their voice or with sad empathetic eyes (in Bush Sr.'s defense, I'd be crying if those were my kids too). The commentariat's remarks about Hillary being like "everyone's" (lovely demonstration of male privilege there) first wife say more about their own twisted biases and sexual histories than about Hillary Clinton's fitness for the job of President. It's not just male pundits, either - there's a special ring of hell reserved for Maureen Dowd's coverage of this campaign. As for Tucker, I really wish he took Jon Stewart's advice and Stopped Hurting America. Like every other person who has sought out higher office, she's an extremely ambitious and competitive person. That doesn't exactly make her a stalker.
All that said, I would not be happy if she was Obama's VP pick. As Chris points out, speculating on assassinations is an immediate disqualifier, no matter what the context was. And I don't look forward to hearing Bill explain exactly why he pardoned each and every crooked financier who fundraised for him on his way out the door. But most of all, I just don't think she'd be a great president, mostly based on the way she's ran her campaign. She'd be miles better than Mccain, Ralph Nader, or any other Republican, and I think she's just as electable as Obama, but I still don't want her a bullet away from the presidency. This campaign was her biggest project since the 1994 Healthcare proposal, which wasn't exactly a triumph of executive leadership either. She's refused to admit voting for the war was a mistake, which would have robbed Obama's candidacy of its rationale from the get-go.
She gave millions of dollars to this guy (Mark Penn, left) who reportedly did not understand the basic rules of the primary.
Yeah, I know Chris killed her off last post. I don't care. The chalk has not been drawn yet. As my man Barack knows, Hillary's one chick that's hard to bump off (Hezbollah-style fist jab, dawg!) Seriously, Hils, the country's had its fun with you, but it's just not that into you. She's like a cross between Jason and the Glenn Close character from Fatal Attraction. To paraphrase the Governor of California in True Lies "female presidential candidates: can't live with 'em, can't kill 'em". How can anyone expect to be elected president if they make Tucker Carlson "involuntarily" cross his legs when he hears her speak? If she reminds Mike Barnicle of "everyone's first wife standing outside a probate court," how can she win? Amirite? Fellas?I think one lesson we can draw from this Bataan Death March of a primary campaign is that while both racism and sexism are still forces in American politics, pundits and pols can make truly repellent sexist comments and continue to have successful careers. (Another is that we need a better media, but that's not happening anytime soon). The same, as George "macaca" Allen, Don "nappy-headed hos" Imus, and Trent "Strom Thurmond forever!" Lott can attest to, is just not true for racist comments. Don't believe me? Here's 62 examples. Particularly galling were the howls of skepticism after she allowed her eyes to become teary in New Hampshire, as if Bill Clinton, John Edwards, or Bush pere and fils would never speak with a catch in their voice or with sad empathetic eyes (in Bush Sr.'s defense, I'd be crying if those were my kids too). The commentariat's remarks about Hillary being like "everyone's" (lovely demonstration of male privilege there) first wife say more about their own twisted biases and sexual histories than about Hillary Clinton's fitness for the job of President. It's not just male pundits, either - there's a special ring of hell reserved for Maureen Dowd's coverage of this campaign. As for Tucker, I really wish he took Jon Stewart's advice and Stopped Hurting America. Like every other person who has sought out higher office, she's an extremely ambitious and competitive person. That doesn't exactly make her a stalker.
All that said, I would not be happy if she was Obama's VP pick. As Chris points out, speculating on assassinations is an immediate disqualifier, no matter what the context was. And I don't look forward to hearing Bill explain exactly why he pardoned each and every crooked financier who fundraised for him on his way out the door. But most of all, I just don't think she'd be a great president, mostly based on the way she's ran her campaign. She'd be miles better than Mccain, Ralph Nader, or any other Republican, and I think she's just as electable as Obama, but I still don't want her a bullet away from the presidency. This campaign was her biggest project since the 1994 Healthcare proposal, which wasn't exactly a triumph of executive leadership either. She's refused to admit voting for the war was a mistake, which would have robbed Obama's candidacy of its rationale from the get-go.
She gave millions of dollars to this guy (Mark Penn, left) who reportedly did not understand the basic rules of the primary.
Her campaign was leaky, fractious, and unfocused. As a candidate, she's been inflexible, gaffe - prone, and unconvincing. Seriously, Barack, you don't want to go there. You're better than that.
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Christopher
Regulators, Veep Vetters, mount up!
“But you can't be any geek off the street, gotta be handy with the steel if you know what I mean, earn your keep!”
It’s been a bad month for veep vetters.
Earlier in June, the man in charge of vetting Barack Obama’s Vice Presidential choices, Washington insider’s insider Jim Johnson, got the ol’ heave-ho. Roundly criticized for receiving two million dollars in questionable loans from Countrywide Financial, a mortgage company that’s been accused (by Obama, among others) of being at the center of the sub-prime mortgage crisis.
Stating that he would never, ever, ever dream of “distracting attention from [the] historic effort," Jimmy boy stepped aside leaving a chasm as large as Unity, New Hampshire in his wake.
That’s where your clean-pocketed Today’s Snow Job team steps to the fore. We’ve come forward to offer our sterling picks for Obama’s Numero Dos for your appraisal. In return, we expect nothing more than medium to large-sized low interest loans. So, if you have me in mind, Countrywide, Ameritrust, keep in mind that prices for Strathcona townhouses are only going up…
I suppose it’s worth pointing out that, in the long run, Johnson’s firing may ultimately be a plus for the Obama campaign. After all, he was the point man when Mondale foolishly picked Geraldine Ferraro as his running mate, prompting Wu-Tang rapper Gza to furnish us with the line: “Geraldine Ferraro, who’s full of sorrow, cuz the ho didn’t win, but the sun will still come out tomorrow.”
So, with sunny days in mind, let’s get down to it.
First off, the art and science of the thing. There’s no unified theory of veep vetting. Other than the resounding lack of scandals like the one ended Jim Johnson, there are a number of proposed qualities a fine vice presidential nominee may, or may not, have. In no particular order:
- They should bring you swing states (The potential biggies this time out: Ohio, Michigan, Florida. Nevada, Wisconsin, Colorado and, of course, Puerto Rico.)
- They should be a ranking member of your father’s secret, world domination-minded cabal who will help to craft your every statement and action (ie. Richard Bruce “Dick” Cheney).
- They should be your ideological soulmate–the Yin to your Yang, the Tubbs to your Crockett, the Stringer to your Avon, the Ashley to your Mary-Kate. (Semi-surprisingly, Al Gore)
- Failing the above, they should fill in the gaps in your own resume/ideology/persona. You’re a man, they’re a woman. You’re from a northern state, they’re from the south. You’re inexperienced, they’ve been in the senate for a billion years. You like dudes, they like chicks. (Ie: Hannibal Hamlin, Lincoln’s #2)
- If lacking in these other, more appealing traits, they should at least be endowed with such a paucity of mental competence that they make you look like a MENSA member by comparison (ie. James Danforth “Dan” Quayle.)
The problem with the last quality is that it necessarily entails a failure to reassure the people that in the event of your untimely demise a suitable second will be able to step in. In Quayle’s case, it led to an opposition ad campaign entitled: “Quayle, only a heartbeat away.” And yet, this is the catch-22 of the VP position: You have to be worthy enough to bring votes and reassurance, and yet also be enough of a lame-duck long shot that you don’t outshine the head of the ticket. Journalist Lance Morrow put in succinctly when he said, “The presidential nominee always says the person he has selected to be his running mate is the American ‘best qualified to take over in the White House in the event of my death.’ That is a ceremonial lie.”
The truth of the matter is that the selection of a vice-presidential nominee is a political, rather than quantitative, question; an attempt to guess which significant other will augment your own turn in the spotlight to the extent that you can walk home with November’s beauty prize in hand.
With that in mind and no further ado:
Fuck: Joe Biden
At first blush, Joe “Biddy Bone” Biden is all that you’d want in a veep and more. He ‘s got the wealth of legislative and foreign policy experience that Obama lacks. He’s both clean and articulate. He’s fair and from Delaware. And, most importantly, he is indisputably thugged out.
Unfortunately, Joe is a little too thugged out. His penchant for shooting verbal nine millies from the hip has led him down dark alleyways far too often for comfort. Most notably, when he said of Obama:
I mean, you got the first mainstream African-American who is articulate and bright and clean and a nice-looking guy… I mean, that’s a storybook, man.
As one blogger so aptly put it:
Our point, if we have one, is this: Joe Biden's comments are crazy ill in the worst way possible. Joe Biden says dumb shit on the regular, but this is above and beyond in several regards. But Joe Biden is a major American political figure with crazy foreign-policy intellect who likes to say insane things on the regular.
So this press remains open.
Kill: Isn’t it obvious?
It shouldn’t take Obama more than a cocaine heartbeat to decide that Hillary shouldn’t be a bullet away from the presidency.
Marry: Straight Talk-Era John McCain
He’s got a post-partisan record and oodles of experience. He served in the military. He’s adored by the national media, yet still falls short of the Guitar Hero level props that Obama gets. He’s conservative, but not too conservative… What more can you ask for?
For high hilarity, this is a move would be on par with Hillary offering Barack the nomination while he was trouncing her in the primaries. They’ll never expect it…
I’m being facetious, of course. I absolutely respect the man. He’s earned it. I think he’s a generally stand-up human being. Unfortunately, he also came out of the Vietnamese prison camps with his own particular and, I think, incorrect vision of how American foreign power should be used.
And he’s old. Boo.
As for who Obama should actually choose as his vice president…
(shrug)
I don’t have the foggiest.
In the end, elections can be lost, but not won on these decisions. That’s probably why America has such an uninspiring roster of VPs to begin with. I have to side with "Cactus Jack" Garner of Texas, F.D.R.'s Vice President, who infamously said that the vice presidency was,
"Not worth a pitcher of warm piss."
Saturday, June 28, 2008
Jedd
You can't marry all of them
Five fun facts about Spiro Agnew
- During his term as Richard Nixon's hatchet man, Spiro was fond of using alliterative labels, such "pusillanimous pussyfooters." His style inspired stylistic mimicry in speeches written by a young(er) Pat Buchanan, among others.
- Dave Barry, former humorist to the Miami Herald, has pointed out that the letters in Spiro's full name can be rearranged to spell "grow a penis"
- Agnew was an honoree of the Order of the American Hellenic Educational Progressive Association and its junior subsidiaries, The Sons of Pericles and The Daughters of Penelope
- Asked why he kept Agnew on as veep after the renewal of his presidency in 1972, Nixon replied that “no assassin in his right mind would kill me."
- As, allegedly, a way of "sidetracking" his vice president during the beginning of his second term, Nixon considered putting Agnew in charge of the American Revolution Bicentennial. Agnew declined the post, arguing that the Bicentennial was "a loser."
Audience?
Well, that was a no-brainer. Though I must admit to a personal weakness for Greco-Americans from Baltimore.
Enough nattering nabobs of negativism. Snowjobbers, this week's question is: who would you fuck/marry/kill in the 2008 democratic veepstakes?
Happy long weekend.
Friday, June 27, 2008
sym
Um, is there a third option?
Up until this point, I thought it was impossible to love Obama too much. To paraphrase Barry Goldwater, I believed that extremism in the defense of Obama was no vice. But Sean "Diddy" Combs "Obama or Die" call is just a little bit too far. Jesse Taylor of Pandagon (best blogger alive, btw) has some useful advice on what to do if confronted by one of Obama's unofficial death squads:
- You can identify such squads by their captains, who will usually be found wearing thick fur coats and Timberland boots in the middle of summer.
- If you find yourself confronted by Puffy, just ask him about how he influenced Biggie Smalls’ seminal album Ready to Die. The intervening 45 minutes of boasting should allow you time to sneak your family and valuables out of your home, prepare a meal for the drive and Google map directions to wherever you’d like to go.
- Given the successes of O-Town, Danity Kane, Da Band and Day26, any death squad Puffy sends out should fall apart due to infighting and general lack of talent within a few days.
sym
Justify my thousand-year war
Internet savants attempt to make John McCain more exciting. Do they succeed? I'm not really sure...
sym
It's getting blank in herre
I have no idea what the song of the summer is. Summer hasn't even started yet around here - today is the first sunny Pacific Northwest Friday of the year. I've been too old and creaky to do the necessary assiduous clubbing. Because, as Christopher pointed out, the song of the summer is ephemeral by definition. It's the song that the DJ plays five times in one night and the crowd complains because they need to hear it a sixth time. It's big and it's dumb and it has lyrics about staying fly til you die or getting ur freak on or talking about the young folks or standing under umberellas. If you hear it after September, it will make you homicidal. Most of all, like the fairly reprehensible song alluded to in the post title, it should make listeners want to take off all their clothes (typos in song titles aren't a strict necessity for songs of the summer, but they certainly don't hurt).
If that specific song is out there, I just haven't heard it yet. We can answer this question again in the fall, right Chris? The easy thing to do here is just pick the nearest rap song that has the drum machine set to "triumphant" ("Mr. Carter", come on down!) But instead I'm gonna pick a song about the necessity of the ephemeral moment. It probably won't be the song of the summer, but it really should be:
NB: the official video is here. Big ups to Jedd for introducing me to this song.
The singer earnestly intones a few of the best rock star cliches (models, Paris, heroin, etc.) then goes for the mission statement:
This is our decision to live fast and die young
We've got the vision, now let's have some fun
Yeah, it's overwhelming but what else can we do
Get jobs in offices and wake up for the morning commute?
Indeed, what sort of asshole would do a thing like that? Especially during the summer? "Time to Pretend" may never be played six times in one night, and there's no sweaty rapper hypnotically imploring you to get naked echoed by a robotic chorus of females enthusiastically assenting. But I'm praying that by the end of this summer, right before the lights come during some big dumb wasted summer night, I'll put my arms around you (yes you, Gentle Reader) and we can drunkenly holler along to MGMT together. My ambitions may not be on the scale of say, Gregor Robertson's or Barack Obama's, but ambitions they are nonetheless. It's getting hot in here, Vancouver. It's time to take your clothes off.
If that specific song is out there, I just haven't heard it yet. We can answer this question again in the fall, right Chris? The easy thing to do here is just pick the nearest rap song that has the drum machine set to "triumphant" ("Mr. Carter", come on down!) But instead I'm gonna pick a song about the necessity of the ephemeral moment. It probably won't be the song of the summer, but it really should be:
NB: the official video is here. Big ups to Jedd for introducing me to this song.
The singer earnestly intones a few of the best rock star cliches (models, Paris, heroin, etc.) then goes for the mission statement:
This is our decision to live fast and die young
We've got the vision, now let's have some fun
Yeah, it's overwhelming but what else can we do
Get jobs in offices and wake up for the morning commute?
Indeed, what sort of asshole would do a thing like that? Especially during the summer? "Time to Pretend" may never be played six times in one night, and there's no sweaty rapper hypnotically imploring you to get naked echoed by a robotic chorus of females enthusiastically assenting. But I'm praying that by the end of this summer, right before the lights come during some big dumb wasted summer night, I'll put my arms around you (yes you, Gentle Reader) and we can drunkenly holler along to MGMT together. My ambitions may not be on the scale of say, Gregor Robertson's or Barack Obama's, but ambitions they are nonetheless. It's getting hot in here, Vancouver. It's time to take your clothes off.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Jedd
Song of the Summer 2008: Osh Kosh rock
My vote is a deadlock tie.
"Out There on the Ice"
Cut Copy
Allow me to break it down: perhaps you're in da proverbial club, lights jabbing in your eyes from indiscernible sources, you're searching the thronging crowd for that special someone. Drugs and/or alcohol may be inhibiting or enhancing your search, and they're certainly fueling your paranoia: has she left without me? Am I too late? Does she know I actually care? Save me, blog-house banger!
"Kim and Jessie"
M83
Or, perhaps, you're in a sunny field with your friends and your new crush. You're all around the vicinity of sixteen, or something nearly as absolving. It's the middle of summer; school is as far gone as it is approaching. Your friends are giggling and whispering about the two of you, but you don't care. The light is so hazy through the trees that you can't see past her face. Time is standing still and junk. Or at least, it was, in retrospect. Remind me, shoegaze throwback!
Never mind, maybe you're just in American Apparel, desperately searching for the outfit that will bring back all the hotness of a past decade; the fuzzy celluloid Hughes-ian memories that you think you ought to have, despite being approximately four years old at the time. Right now, in the fleeting-yet-responsible part of our youth, we can elect to bliss out to the music of the adolescence we yearned for, crib-side in our Osh Koshes.
Kitsch notwithstanding, both tracks have definite bliss-moments, which I submit as a necessary condition for flagship summer songs. "Out There on the Ice" is at 3:29--acid synth gives way to staccato key pecks and a vocal line so earnestly overwrought that all misgivings over artifice and ambiance must be forgiven. 'Cause it's genre pop, and it's a tasty treat, if ephemeral. But so is the pacific northwestern summer. With similar consequences, "Kim and Jessie" peaks out at 4:03--bridge built, shimmering chorus revisited, Mr. Gonzales breaks out and dusts off a guitar line so steeped in the Reagan era that the listener must summarily remove their headphones and proceed to detention at Shermer High School. Every time this song is played out loud, Molly Ringwald loses a wrinkle.
Here's to making it through today by making up yesterday, one summer song at a time.
"Out There on the Ice"Cut Copy
Allow me to break it down: perhaps you're in da proverbial club, lights jabbing in your eyes from indiscernible sources, you're searching the thronging crowd for that special someone. Drugs and/or alcohol may be inhibiting or enhancing your search, and they're certainly fueling your paranoia: has she left without me? Am I too late? Does she know I actually care? Save me, blog-house banger!
"Kim and Jessie"M83
Or, perhaps, you're in a sunny field with your friends and your new crush. You're all around the vicinity of sixteen, or something nearly as absolving. It's the middle of summer; school is as far gone as it is approaching. Your friends are giggling and whispering about the two of you, but you don't care. The light is so hazy through the trees that you can't see past her face. Time is standing still and junk. Or at least, it was, in retrospect. Remind me, shoegaze throwback!
Never mind, maybe you're just in American Apparel, desperately searching for the outfit that will bring back all the hotness of a past decade; the fuzzy celluloid Hughes-ian memories that you think you ought to have, despite being approximately four years old at the time. Right now, in the fleeting-yet-responsible part of our youth, we can elect to bliss out to the music of the adolescence we yearned for, crib-side in our Osh Koshes.
Kitsch notwithstanding, both tracks have definite bliss-moments, which I submit as a necessary condition for flagship summer songs. "Out There on the Ice" is at 3:29--acid synth gives way to staccato key pecks and a vocal line so earnestly overwrought that all misgivings over artifice and ambiance must be forgiven. 'Cause it's genre pop, and it's a tasty treat, if ephemeral. But so is the pacific northwestern summer. With similar consequences, "Kim and Jessie" peaks out at 4:03--bridge built, shimmering chorus revisited, Mr. Gonzales breaks out and dusts off a guitar line so steeped in the Reagan era that the listener must summarily remove their headphones and proceed to detention at Shermer High School. Every time this song is played out loud, Molly Ringwald loses a wrinkle.
Here's to making it through today by making up yesterday, one summer song at a time.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Christopher
Song of the Summer 2008: The Seed 3.0
With a stripped-down, infectious guitar lick and a hilariously overblown hook sung by Fall Out Boy’s Patrick Stump, the Roots’ Birthday Girl” is so hot that it immediately begs the question Ben Mathis Lilley asked in his recent Slate piece, “Did The Roots just trick me into liking a lame emo band?” The answer, thank Anansi, is no. But ?uestlove’s self-admitted “easy pop song” does have all the qualities of a classic song of summer: It’s ridiculously catchy. It’s an attempt at crossover appeal. You can shake your two-step to it. And, perhaps most importantly, it comes on strong and fades away without a trace (in this case with an echoing Yo La Tengo-ish hum-along).
The funny thing is that, because of the Roots particular place in alt-hip pop culture, in creating this consummate piece of bubblegum summer fare they’ve managed to please just about no one. On his Status Ain’t Hood blog, Tom Breihan called “Birthday Girl” “quite possibly the worst thing the Roots have ever done,” comparing it unfavourably to Lil’ Wayne’s “Lollipop” On their own website, Okayplayer.com, first-year college lit pretentious fans so bemoaned the inclusion of the track that the Roots ultimately left it off the album.
So in defence of the fun-loving Roots of What They Do and the Seed 2.0, I nominate “Birthday Girl” as my song of the summer.
As an aside, the song has two videos. I prefer the handheld hipster party one above, but, with a wink-wink, nudge-nudge, the other (apparently official) video hilariously features youthful pornstar Sasha Grey, whose Wikipedia page states that she originally considered using Anna Karina (the name of Godard’s ex-wife) as her porn name. Charming.
sym
words to live by
hey kobe, how you like the way my ass taste? or in other words: testing, testing...
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Christopher
It takes three to make it outta sight!
First with a high wail: "It takes two to make a thing go right..."
Then the bass lick with a soprano shout: "... It takes two to make it outta sight."
Number 1 with a bullet. The song is this summer's hands-down winner for Sound of the Ghetto, with that deep-bottom bass line and those high-pitched screams on the quarter beat. Thick drum tack, def rhythm and some sweet-voiced yoette wailing out the same two-line lyric. East side, west side, and all around town, the corner boys of Baltimore are fighting and dying to the same soundtrack.
- Homicide, by David Simon
Corner boys mount up!!!
Nearly half the summer has gone by and it's as yet unclear what this year's "It Takes Two" is. In the absence of a Rob Base and DJ E-Z Rock summer banger, in a barefaced attempt to deem themselves the arbiters of populist taste, a handful of internet organizations (Yahoo Answers, Popwatch, Redeye, etc.) have taken it upon themselves to name the song of the summer. What they (and everyone else) fail to realize is that they are not the arbiters of taste... We are.
Lest a Leona Lewis vs. Carrie Underwood poll take things out of our hands, I believe it's the Today's Snow Job team's responsibility, nay duty, to weigh in with their personal selections.
To this end, the music question of the week is: What's your personal song of the summer for 2008?
Only 2008 releases need apply.
Comments are welcome.
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