THE JO-TEL … reads like a conflation of the Inferno, the Iliad, and Moby-Dick

Last night was the 15th anniversary of a local German restaurant, Suppenküche. As German restaurants go, Suppenküche has a great beer selection. As anniversaries go, the beer selection was heavily discounted (I currently have a very cheap hangover). To make things even better, the bartender is a friend of ours. Shark, Patsy, Shannon and I were immediately greeted by a large drunk crowd, neighborhood friends, and enormous mugs of beer. The enormity of these mugs yielded several comments regarding their enormity, unwieldiness, and their general hindrance to dancing. These mugs were very appropriate for the occasion.

After an episode of lopsided dancing, we adjourned to the Fell house, which we promptly left after the proprietors’ inability to produce adequate music (no music snobbery here, adequate music would have been any music at all) to continue our dance party. Upon arrival home, Shark, Patsy, Shannon, and I fired up the dance party. At one point Shannon disappeared and reappeared, grabbed a set of sheets from next to the couches and then disappeared again. Patsy went to bed, and Shark and I continued air guitaring to the music of the Kinks, then began to question where in the hell Shannon went. After thorough searching of all the rooms and no Shannon to be seen, we realized that the door leading to the roof was open. We ascended the stairs and found Shannon at the end of the roof asleep bundled in blankets. Shark and grabbed blankets and went to sleep next to her.

We awoke at 4am to Patsy goading Shark to come to bed. It was cold, so we left the roof.

Shannon has a t-shirt to commemorate the evening. Its actually pretty cool. No I don’t have a picture of it.

This is the start to a damn fine B2B weekend.

Quick shout-out to new Friends and Fambly member The Cabinet Shop. It’s an art/fashion/design blog that’ll keep you in the know about what’s worth knowing in those scenes. Go check them out.

-Thrill

The California Supreme Court just struck down the ban on same-sex marriages in California. This is totally awesome. I hope all the hicks in the boonies are losing their minds over this.

Image “courtesy” of Getty Images.

-Thrill

Tonight on Masterpiece Theatre, the part of Giacomo Puccini will be played by Christopher Reeve.

-Thrill

Thank you, Deepa, for the photo on the spot.

Everyday weekday morning when I read Pitchfork Media, the biggest online music review site, I experience of mixed bag of emotions. On the one hand, I am greeted with various niceties, including: intriguing revelations regarding new music; Pitchfork’s take on leaked albums that I’ve already digested; or a new William Bowers column. At the same, I am almost always confronted with an impossibly annoying misuse of the word “sonic”.

From m-w.com:

Main Entry: son·ic
Pronunciation: \?sä-nik\
Function: adjective
Date: 1923
1: utilizing, produced by, or relating to sound waves ; broadly : of or involving sound

“Of or involving sound.” It does seem pretty simple doesn’t it. Also, notice the form of speech. IT’S AN ADJECTIVE!!!

Real life quotes from Pitchfork:

“Eschewing Deerhunter’s traditional rock instrumentation, Atlas Sound spans a wide range of sonics on the debut Let the Blind Lead Those Who Can See But Cannot Feel.”

“Bjork talks about the politics and sonics of Volta.”

First of all, using “sonics” as a noun is incorrect. There’s that. Second, and most disturbingly, it’s incredibly annoying to use the word “sonics” at all. Essentially it is filthy tactic to make it sound as if you, the writer, is making a more intricate, descriptive statement than you actually are. The “sonics of Volta“? Oh you mean “the sound of Volta“. Or maybe just “Volta“. She’s going to talk about her album. It is full of sounds. In the Deerhunter blurb, please describe how “sonics” means another other than “sounds”. Then tell me, dude, why you chose the more obscure sounding word….

I mean, here’s the real problem. The words “sonic” even when used properly is REALLY annoying the context of music criticism. But if critics want to sound like fucktards, I leave them be. But the minute their fucktardary violates the laws of the dictionary, then they are fucked. Pitchfork, this post is the sound of me fucking you.

The only time I really want to hear “sonic” is when Guile is about to hurt a fire ball.

-Shark

Erstwhile Jo-Tel contributor, PETE, alive and well. And a hero.
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From the Network:

Anyhow, last night I thwarted a bike theft in our neighborhood. I was sitting on my porch smoking a cigarette and some chick pulled up to the liquor store across the street and propped her bike up outside without locking it (there’s a bike shop a block from my house called the Bike Oven that is the hipster bike capitol of LA. Anytime i tell any hipster or semi-hipster where i live they will invariably respond “Oh! That’s right by the Bike Oven!”) While she was inside this other lady walked by and stopped in front of the liquor store. She was carrying two bags. She turned around and walked back the way she came and abouta minute later she came back without the bags and slowly sidled up to the bike. At this point I was up off my porch and starting to walk
towards the street. I saw her grab the bike and start to get on and pretty much booked across the street and caught her about two pedal revolutions down the street. Needless to say she was pretty shocked, and I didn’t really have to rip the bike out from under her or anything, which was good because she was like 40. She just sort of gave up. Then i went into the liquor store and told the owner of the bike that she was a dumbass. Hopefully, the drug addict lady that I stopped from stealing the bike won’t go tell the gang members on me. Oh well. Good thing I’m gone all weekend.

this segment of PETE’s Corner brough to you by Johnny D

Looks like the streets of LA are under a watchful eye.

Writing blog posts is time-consuming and hard.  But if I had the time, and I remembered anything about the 80’s, this is probably the kind of blog post I would write:

 
           Lacy Underall, then and now

- Hip E.

P.S.  I totally Thrilled myself this week, but don’t miss my return to long-form blogging from last Friday:  The Love Song of E. Douglas Hipfrock

Robert Rauschenberg (1925-2008)

Robert Rauschenberg died of heart failure last night at age 82. He redefined art for an entire generation, opening the door from Abstract Expressionism to Pop Art and beyond, and has inspired generations ever since (myself included).

Rauschenberg was one of the most prolific, diverse, imaginative artists of the 20th Century, and a true artistic genius. The NY Times’ reference to him as a “Titan of American Art” is hardly hyperbole. Although he was thrown into the “Neo-Dada” bin by a number of critics in the 60s, Rauschenberg himself never conformed to one movement - or even to one medium. He famously said, “I work in the gap between art and life.”

His art always pushed the envelope, was always questioning aesthetics, and always stayed innovative. It’s a huge loss to the art world, but hopefully the news will spark more interest in his work and expose some young artists to his work for the first time.

Another lawyer, in a room full of lawyers, was looking for some document in her briefcase and said:

“I know I threw it in there in the morning.”

I didn’t say it.

-Shark