Christmas List 2010

It's so exciting to start a Christmas list with such a beautifully Sci-Fi year attached. 

2010 was so easy to say.  It's a shame the apocalypse didn't hit this year...future humans would have relished the ease with which the date and THE event of the century coincided.

Regardless.  

Humanity has not been reduced to ashes and scraggly things, so as far as I'm concerned, Santa Clause is still coming to town.  And this is what I want him to bring me.

 Gemma Slack.  Anything by Gemma Slack.  Even that amazingly terrifying Hannibal Lector face mask.  I'll wear it to the grocery store on a late night grab for soy milk, I swear it.

and

I'm a consumer.  

I'm sorry.

I'm also a murderer since I killed The Dude's computer, so we need a new one because as grateful as I am for this supplicant Eee PC...I've been spoiled by the lure of "Technology for Idiots" that Apple has so perfected and can't turn back now.  

Some form of a 60 key semi weighted MIDI controller keyboard so I can herald the gods down from their lofty encampments just beyond the reach of man into the faces of The Unworthy Mortals.  Even if it's my own face I'm flaunting this in front of.  Or the cats.

Either way...a must have.

 

A seven toed, gray Maine Coon kitten that I can dress up in various neck scarves and take outside and train to come when I call "Lucifer!"  I already had a dream about this cat so it's obvious to me that it is only a matter of time.

This list includes several other things, but I can't bring Lightning Hopkins back to life or stuff the entirety of Radiohead in my closet with all that other things I've got in there already, so maybe next year.

Moe

 

This is, in my opinion, an unsung hero.

While it is true that anyone worth their salt knows that Maureen Tucker is a pure genius, knows that her influence is what made The Velvet Underground the legendary band that it grew to be, that without that golden, driving heartbeat Lou and John could never have soared to Iconography Land...I still feel as though the wealth of talent that is Moe Tucker should be more of a household name.

Any kid that ever bangs on a plastic shelf of a high chair should do so with her face at the bottom of the baby food bowl.

Just to drive the point home.

We who are about to die, O Tyrant of the Tom Tom, O Sultan of the Snare, salute you.

Let Bygones be Winespills...

The inevitable has finally come to pass.

After years and years of good, solid use, of true moral fiber and utmost dignity, and the grace to allow me the ability to look up obscure things on The Internet whenever I so choose...the inevitable.

It is with great sadness and enormous guilt that I am forced to admit that gravity got in between my hand and the wine glass and the result was a short circuted MacBookPro and the potential loss of everything on it.

This.
Sucks.

Essentially, our entire life's progress was on that motherboard.  The beginnings of our musical interest which unfolded into a full scale artistic pursuit, all the photographs, all the writings...everything.  The worst part (and it truly is The Worst Part) is that this computer was not even mine.

NO, this computer, I am distressed to say, was The Dude's.

Luckily for me, The Dude often shows a great expanse of inner grace which he extends to my ridiculous existence time and time again.  In this case, he is being extremely forgiving and understanding instead of hotwiring the remains of the machine through my brain and projecting the information out of my eyeballs (which I may not forcefully resist, truth be told...)