Alrighty, I'm going to try to make this pretty damn snappy, because I've got things to do, so pay attention. I have some shopping I've got to get to.
Well, not shopping, exactly. Because of course I'm making my presents again this year, but even more so, because of The Economy. We're all going down the tubes, sayonara, the jog is up, it's curtains, yes, I'm talking to you, the economical Climate is a not so good. So I'm making my presents this year, because nothing says “cheap” like some awful thing I've made on my own in my room. This year it's pottery, making pottery, most terrible and heinous things that no one could ever want.
Last year I made a big point of getting everyone sweaters, which they hated, totally, invariably despised, so, somehow, I've got to top that. I'm very excited. It's going to be an excruciating, urn-filled holiday season for my friends and loved ones; even casual acquaintances will be made more uncomfortable by the hopeless despair that only pottery can offer.
Which means I've decided to combine my annual godforsaken Christmas Shopping Tips column with my dreaded Year-End Wrap-up column, just in the hope that we can get them both over with faster and I can get back to my kiln.
Movies – nope. Lame year. Sorry -unfortunately, no good movies were released this year. Certainly not ten of them. I could shoot for three, or four, maybe. You can probably blame it on The Economy.
I liked “In Bruges” and “Sweetland”. And we both loved “Wristcutters” and “Vicky Christina Barcelona” (the latter is particularly good if you like gorgeous women.)
Oh, wait, I think I thought of some more: “Daywatch”, the Russian sequel to “Nightwatch” (and not quite as great, but they're both fun); loved “Superbad”, and “Lust Caution” (talk about two movies that are almost identical!); and “Goya's Ghosts” (as fevered, wondrous and ridiculous as another old favorite, Coppola's “Bram Stoker's Dracula”), “This Is England” (which is probably from '07), “Before the Devil Knows You're Dead”, “Snow Angels”, and especially “The Fall” (which is a bit like a darker, more morbid “Time Bandits” in the way it confounds expectations.) OK, I guess I did like some movies.
Does that mean I liked some new music, too? I doubt it. I hate music.
Wait, though, there were some great songs and ok albums. Old pros Randy Newman (with his new “Harps and Angels”), Al Green (“Lay It Down”), David Byrne and Brian Eno (“Everything That Happens Will Happen Today”), and Bob Dylan (with his new outtakes and rarities collection from the last decade or so, “The Bootleg Series Vol. 8: Tell Tale Signs ”) continued to dazzle, as did intriguing new pros Deerhoof (“Offend Maggie”), the Ruby Suns (“Sea Lion”; their earlier album is swell, too, especially if you love later period Beach Boys), and even Nada Surf (“The Weight Is a Gift”.) I also finally, belatedly got going on Elliott Smith (in particular, an album called “New Moon”), and kinda dug the Dodos and the Teeth; and right now I'm listening to an extremely striking new album called “Mythomania” by a group I've never heard of called Cryptacize. So, yeah, again, still some good music. Eleven, again. Wow -creepy.
Oh, man, here we go again -I'm out of room, and I'm half way through. OK, never mind; go buy some of these records for people for Christmas, or download 'em or whatever you kids are doing nowadays. Or rent the videos.
Or just relax! Make some pottery. Scare people.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
THURSTON KELP, POLITICAL ACTIVIST
I made a political phone call. I did. Me. To someone else. When I was awake and everything.
You who know me understand that this action flies in the face of everything I have always stood for. In fact, it has always been my ambition never to pay any attention to politics under any circumstances, never, no matter what. For instance, I don't believe I have ever mentioned a politician by name in these pages, for one very simple reason: mostly, I don't know their names.
In years past, sometimes, I have voted, sometimes not; when I have voted, it has been because my wife -my bride, my sexual love partner, the original, one and only Mrs. Kelp (for whom I harbor unnatural affections) -asked me to, and specified my ideas on the subject, not overburdening me with motivation, but in most cases merely proferring a short written list. I take her suggestions invariably, for She is Wise, not to mention my sexual love partner; plus that means I don't have to listen to any of the actual bozos themselves, which has worked out so well for me over the years, I can't tell you.
Perhaps you may wonder what would cause me to suspend such a practical policy. Let's see, how do I say this tactfully? It was fear that one of the candidates- I won't say which one, in order not to outrage anyone- seemed uniquely unqualified (best not to mention which one she was exactly) -might have a chance of serving. I was apprehensive, concerned, queasy, all at the same time. Kinda jumpy.
I told my darling wife I was thinking of pitching in and making some phone calls for the opposite party (again, probably best not to identify the candidate precisely, lest I be knifed, shot or burned; for the sake of discretion we'll just call him, “That One”), and what did she think of that idea. She commented that perhaps I had lost some of my crayons, and wondered how I, a person with no knowledge whatsoever of politics and current events, planned to answer spontaneous questions on those subjects intelligently. To my credit, I saw where she was coming from, and went back under the couch.
Much to my surprise, the nagging feeling that I should be pitching in somehow would not go away, and a few weeks later, at the urging of the 400th email from MoveOn, I actually made some calls. The first guy who answered was very nice, but I kept giggling, and had to excuse myself. Then, just to keep the laughs coming, I called my aged but still intermittently zesty parents, thinking they'd at least get a hoot out of it, but I only got about two sentences into my pre-written spiel before my mom, not recognizing my voice -and why would she, with those sentences! -said, “Oh, thank you, but we've already voted. Goodbye!” and hung up on me. Only my second political call, and already my own ma had declared me a total stranger!
I didn't really make that many calls, probably just about twenty, and half of those to answering machines (the tip sheet specified not leaving messages, but I ended up leaving a couple, figuring you can't ignore the answering machine vote), but they were all over, Florida, Colorado, Pennsylvania, Montana, Ohio -they'd give you the numbers and a little script if you wanted, which got tossed pretty quickly. “Hi, this is Thurston from Massachusetts, quite possibly the least politically informed person in the entire commonwealth, saying, vote for That One! I endorse him! Do what I say!” -this was just one of my angles.
I had some nice conversations. Actually, my mission was to get other supporters of That One who lived in swing states (swing states! -what a concept!) to actually drive somewhere to spend a few hours making phone calls to other voters in their regions. So the object of my phone call was to talk people into making more phone calls. Definitely talked to some nice folk, preaching to the choir, but jesus! -I was voluntarily making unsolicited political phone calls! What had become of me?
Luckily, after about twenty calls, I finally found the nicest guy in Florida who seemed to have been considering the idea anyway, and he said sure, he'd do it, and I was done. I had actually made a recruitment! At which point I gave up completely, probably never to return to activism. And even though my guy said in his acceptance speech that there was much hard work ahead, and that we'd all have to work together, I had already determined that it was unlikely I'd be all over that one, so anxious was I to return to my privileged life of social indolence and decay.
But hey, it sure was fun when he won, huh? Man, I'm telling you, that was a night.
You who know me understand that this action flies in the face of everything I have always stood for. In fact, it has always been my ambition never to pay any attention to politics under any circumstances, never, no matter what. For instance, I don't believe I have ever mentioned a politician by name in these pages, for one very simple reason: mostly, I don't know their names.
In years past, sometimes, I have voted, sometimes not; when I have voted, it has been because my wife -my bride, my sexual love partner, the original, one and only Mrs. Kelp (for whom I harbor unnatural affections) -asked me to, and specified my ideas on the subject, not overburdening me with motivation, but in most cases merely proferring a short written list. I take her suggestions invariably, for She is Wise, not to mention my sexual love partner; plus that means I don't have to listen to any of the actual bozos themselves, which has worked out so well for me over the years, I can't tell you.
Perhaps you may wonder what would cause me to suspend such a practical policy. Let's see, how do I say this tactfully? It was fear that one of the candidates- I won't say which one, in order not to outrage anyone- seemed uniquely unqualified (best not to mention which one she was exactly) -might have a chance of serving. I was apprehensive, concerned, queasy, all at the same time. Kinda jumpy.
I told my darling wife I was thinking of pitching in and making some phone calls for the opposite party (again, probably best not to identify the candidate precisely, lest I be knifed, shot or burned; for the sake of discretion we'll just call him, “That One”), and what did she think of that idea. She commented that perhaps I had lost some of my crayons, and wondered how I, a person with no knowledge whatsoever of politics and current events, planned to answer spontaneous questions on those subjects intelligently. To my credit, I saw where she was coming from, and went back under the couch.
Much to my surprise, the nagging feeling that I should be pitching in somehow would not go away, and a few weeks later, at the urging of the 400th email from MoveOn, I actually made some calls. The first guy who answered was very nice, but I kept giggling, and had to excuse myself. Then, just to keep the laughs coming, I called my aged but still intermittently zesty parents, thinking they'd at least get a hoot out of it, but I only got about two sentences into my pre-written spiel before my mom, not recognizing my voice -and why would she, with those sentences! -said, “Oh, thank you, but we've already voted. Goodbye!” and hung up on me. Only my second political call, and already my own ma had declared me a total stranger!
I didn't really make that many calls, probably just about twenty, and half of those to answering machines (the tip sheet specified not leaving messages, but I ended up leaving a couple, figuring you can't ignore the answering machine vote), but they were all over, Florida, Colorado, Pennsylvania, Montana, Ohio -they'd give you the numbers and a little script if you wanted, which got tossed pretty quickly. “Hi, this is Thurston from Massachusetts, quite possibly the least politically informed person in the entire commonwealth, saying, vote for That One! I endorse him! Do what I say!” -this was just one of my angles.
I had some nice conversations. Actually, my mission was to get other supporters of That One who lived in swing states (swing states! -what a concept!) to actually drive somewhere to spend a few hours making phone calls to other voters in their regions. So the object of my phone call was to talk people into making more phone calls. Definitely talked to some nice folk, preaching to the choir, but jesus! -I was voluntarily making unsolicited political phone calls! What had become of me?
Luckily, after about twenty calls, I finally found the nicest guy in Florida who seemed to have been considering the idea anyway, and he said sure, he'd do it, and I was done. I had actually made a recruitment! At which point I gave up completely, probably never to return to activism. And even though my guy said in his acceptance speech that there was much hard work ahead, and that we'd all have to work together, I had already determined that it was unlikely I'd be all over that one, so anxious was I to return to my privileged life of social indolence and decay.
But hey, it sure was fun when he won, huh? Man, I'm telling you, that was a night.
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