All these songs with narratives reinforcing our cultural folkways...

I'm sitting at school on a Saturday slogging through the data entry for my thesis. My brain is just beginning to sizzle; it's not quite frying yet.

Gary's sitting in the lab doing some work as well. I asked if he minded if I put on some music; he said no, as long as it's country. Couldn't tell if he was joking or not, but I said OK and put on a playlist of (mostly) country songs, because I like a lot of that shit.

The whole reason I noted that is because I've been listening to all these songs with narratives reinforcing our cultural folkways, and I'm wondering how much of my enjoyment of derives from their resulting position in our sociocultural matrix and how much derives from the inherent worth of their musicality and lyricism.

This week was good professionally: I've hit what I hope is the magic number of responses required for my thesis, and finally worked out with my advisors what statistical analysis we're going to use - which is why I'm powering through data entry at the moment. My least favorite patient told me she absolutely has to have her braces off by March, no matter what, so I know she'll be done then. And I got a lead on at least a part-time job for next year, who I have to call on Monday. So that's some shit off my chest.

You should get to know your town, just like I know mine

The Magnificent Seven SC's City of the Dead Photo Scavenger Hunt was a success! It was a gorgeous day, sunny with a forecasted high near 60 F. Which is awesome for November in Chicago!

People started arriving at the Pontiac a little before 11am. After a bit of chit-chat and after a few attendees had a few bloody marys, I started passing out clue sheets. Nick commented that it was too easy to make collages like that on the computer now, but acknowledged that they don't look the same or have the soul of a cut-and-paste, copy-and-destroy job.


All said, though, it was kind of a pain doing all that cutting and pasting; I'm done doing ride promo and fliers for a while.

Anyway, being scooterists, our 11:30am start time went to pot pretty quickly. At half past eleven, we started our random pairings. Patrick picked up some cheapo chopsticks and numbered them; they were drawn and that was how your teammate was chosen! Everyone seemed to get along though, so no problems. Of course, Josh the Cop was running late, and held everyone up until he got there at noon. Two more guys showed up in the meantime, but of course they both pulled matching numbers, so Brian was stuck waiting for Josh (and I held everyone else from starting to make it fair). Nick and John had come by but ended up not participating. Kyle also pulled over in his VW van to say hi, but he was headed out to the 'burbs for domestic tasks. Everyone else there was going crazy figuring out clues. Except for Rich, that is; he read the clue sheet and stated he knew where they all were. The others were all feeding their internet addictions on their DiCKPhones and Crackberries, or in Nick and Chandler's cases, their laptops. Ben made phone calls. Sid and Dan had their maps and atlases.

Like I said, I let everyone go at the same time. They had seven sites around Chicago, from Rogers Park to Hyde Park (way north to way south, with some west side thrown in for kicks) to visit and photograph with both bikes from each team. Some of them tore off north, some of them south. Some of them sat at the Pontiac and worked on their route for a while. In fact, Sid and Dan (and Dan's wife Jane) were still sitting there when Millie, Durso, and Silent Ron rolled up at quarter past twelve. Apparently, Millie'd broken down and was riding 2-up with Durso, so Team Maryland was able to compete together despite our rules and random team assignments - although I suppose having to ride 2-up on Dursos 125cc smallframe was somewhat of a handicap.

Sid and Dan took off shortly after that, while Team Maryland worked out clues and Silent Ron commiserated. I think they finally left at 12:30. At which point Patrick and I, as the organizers and planners unable to compete, went for eats at Dunlay's on the Square in Logan Square along with my friend Nikki. Good eats. We dropped Nikki off at the Humboldt Park Fieldhouse and proceeded to the Garfield Conservatory to hang a bit and see which teams stopped by.

Before I proceed further, I should tell you which sites our seven clues referred to, in chronological order:

1. Rosehill Cemetery
2. Union Stockyards Entrance Arch
3. Finkl & Sons Steel
4. Garfield Conservatory
5. Biograph Theater
6. Chess Records Office and Studio
7. Henry Moore's "Nuclear Energy" sculpture at the site of the first self-sustaining controlled nuclear reaction

Patrick and I hung out at the Conservatory for a bit, and saw Sid and Dan ride by south of Lake Ave, coming from the Garfield Park Fieldhouse, and head east. A couple minutes later they came back west and found us sitting in front of the conservatory. Apparently Dan had been shot by some douchebags with a paintball gun while riding through the west side. He was not a happy camper. They told us they had to hit Rosehill and then they were done. Patrick and I were surprised, as it was only a quarter past two at this point.

A couple minutes after they stopped by, Brian and Josh the Cop showed up. This was their last site. They got their pictures, and headed back to the Pontiac. Patrick and I left almost as quickly, but took a different route back; we jammed down Lake Street - AKA the Death Star - with only a little weaving amongst the pillars when necessary to pass. Brian and Josh still beat us back to the Pontiac - we were a block or two away when I saw Brian's Zuma pulled into the lot.

We rolled up a few seconds later, and there's Todd with a half-drunk bloody in his hand, smiling like a tow-headed devil. He and Rich and Amy had gotten back a while before, apparently. Amy showed me their photos, and I declared them the winner and relieved myself of banking the ride's winnings. $65 to the winning team, and $10 to Brian and Josh, setting them even for the day - minus gas and beer money. (Brian and Josh the Cop were running red lights all day, and Josh even tried to get a squad car for escort - to no avail. They still came in first loser.) Ben and Chandler - Team Stella - rolled up soon after, and the rest of the teams came trickling in after that. I think the motorcycle guys were 5th or 6th to arrive, after Tim and Stephanie. Team Silent Ron and Maryland showed up soon after, and we were hanging out front of the Pontiac waiting for our stragglers.

Sid finally pulled up, followed closely by Katherine on her Stella, and Dan and Jane were a couple minutes behind. We ended up shootin' it until the sun set near 4:30 - damn Daylight Savings Time ending is messing me up. Everyone said no when I suggested going for a group ride, but fun was had by all.

UPDATE: So, a few people took some wrong turns - Josh and Brian went to Graceland instead of Rosehill, and the motorcycle team went to UIC instead of U of C to find Henry Moore's "Nuclear Energy." And Chandler dropped his camera on Michigan Ave. and Team Stella had to backtrack to get it. And some team I can't remember went to the Apollo Theater instead of Chess Records.

Next time, I'm not planning at all. I wanted to ride!

Pictures are available on my Flickr and at the Mag 7's Flickr.

Fucking Media Monopolies

So, the videos I posted in my last post have been deleted from YouTube, due to Viacom's claim of copyright infringement.

Now, while technically accurate, the decision is marketing idiocy. Without any sort of viral video presence as in those two clips, would Yo Gabba Gabba's audience demographic expand in that direction at all? Is there a huge overlap between YouTube users and Nick Jr. viewers? I don't think so.

What it is is corporate media producers defending their right to total information control. It's not this instance that scares them, but the precedent of any of their material being used for any reason not sanctioned prior to its use.

Anyway, they've been put back up on YouTube, go there and search for "Yo Gabba Gabba Pick It Up" and "Yo Gabba Gabba Aggrolites" and you should find your treat.

Hands down the best kids show ever!

Yo Gabba Gabba! is officially the best kids show ever. How come there was never anything this cool on when I was a kid?

Oh, yeah. It was the late seventies/early eighties.



As Sid pointed out: note the Vespa and the skinhead train. I don't think he said anything about the Mod Target or the English Beat imagery. Now if only the sax player in the dresser band were a pickle rather than a banana.

Pick it up! Pick it up! Pick it up! Pick it up!

And speaking of bananas, here's the Aggrolites, on the same show!



Pick it up! Pick it up! Pick it up! Pick it up!

As if I needed another reason to hate the Republican party

I'm still exhausted from riding Wisconsin's Rustic Roads yesterday,or I'd write about it.

Meanwhile, watch this:

Worth sitting through. Naomi Wolf is an engaging speaker. Beware, though, it's 40+ minutes long.

The First Annual Less-Than-Honorable Jimmy Chamberlain Pumpkin Run!

Holy shit, it's been a while since I posted anything here. I guess right now I actually feel I have something worthy of contributing...

I guess since my last post, 5+ weeks ago, I've been much busier with the scootering - and the bicycling, too, but that's not what this post is about...

Today was the The First Annual Less-Than-Honorable Jimmy Chamberlain Pumpkin Run, the first public ride of the nascent scooter club I'm in, The Magnificent Seven SC. There are way more than seven of us, too.

Anyway, we met up at the Depot Diner out on the west side, had some hearty breakfast food and then mounted up for a rambling 40-mile route in the eighty-something degree October Chicago heat.

Bungee-tastic fun! And I couldn't fucking resist...

Ben went a different route (most people just duct-taped the fucking thing to their leg-shields) with packing foam support. I'm still not sure what the saran wrap was about.

Ride on! Chicago-bound!

Jay with the triple-threat!

Hurry up and get gas, losers!

Sorry my fingers got caught up there.

Durso (not pictured, unfortunately) ended up winning with a 41-pounder. Mike, with the Honda Elite shown above, came in second place - first loser! - with 35 pounds. Millie (also not pictured) and I tied with 32 pounds each - although my second pumpkin, also brought back according to the rules, brought me up to 56 pounds.

Anyway, we ended up back at the Ranch - AKA Patrick's garage - for pizza, beer, and chit-chat. I stopped by Delilah's on the way home, and coming out of the bathroom, I found the perfect accessory sitting on my barstool. I swear to god I have no fucking clue where it came from!

Balls to the wall, baby! Next week we're planning to knock out Wisconsin's Rustic Roads Awards Program and earn ourselves some patches. Yesterday I paid over $150 for a gorilla suit. I think it needs some use. And that gourd and brassiere are not coming off until they rot off.

Oh, I'm spinning punk rock night at Delilah's on October 29th. Come on out and say hi, I'll give you some candy.

It's better with subtitles...

Life, or Something Like It

I got caught in the rain on my ride home from work. Onto the Vespa, around the gate and out into the dry street. Within a mile, BOOM - it starts pouring. It looked like a fucking movie.

It was a long day.

And with scooters on my mind: The last day before my break, two weeks ago, I had errands to run. I went straight from school, wearing scrubs - the last day for that also - and riding the Vespa.

I had all this shit with me by the time I got home.

The Spindle is slated for demolition. It's being torn down to make way for a Walgreen's. Critical Mass went out there on the July ride.

Oh, yeah. There's already a Walgreen's in that strip mall.

This is the piece of shit "compact" car I rented in AZ.

The third thing Renee said to me, after "Dat's Daddy-O!" (pointing at my friend Joe) and "Dat's Mommy!" (pointing at my friend Miki), was "Dat's Artoo-Detoo!"

Cute kid, ain't she? Not even two yet.

She called the mouse "computer knob." By the way, her shirt reads "Everyone loves a blue-eyed girl," and she can tell you that's exactly what it says if you ask her.

After visiting Joe and Miki for a few days, I drove from Phoenix up to Sedona to meet Dani for some camping and hiking.

See that little turnabout at the far left of the picture? That's where we parked for our hike. We didn't make it to the top; we started back down when it started raining and lighting on the slick rock, and went for some fresh microbrew, instead.

She's doing something related to dinner, either prep or clean-up. I lit the fire and cooked the food, like a real cave-man.

Since the rain had passed and it was rather nice out, we sat looking up at the stars that night. The Milky Way from the desert is pretty sweet. We were going to sleep out, but the damn skunks kept looking around our campsite. Pepe LePew motherfuckers. So we set up the tent and slept in to avoid skunkdom.

It ended up raining four times that night, Dani told me. I only woke up once.

We went hiking up another trail outside Sedona the next day, before heading back to the Hopi Res.

We made it to the top of this one, although we took a bad switchback and ended up forging our own trail for a little while.

Dani had to work the next day, but I hung out, laid back, relaxed, and went for a walk.

Look up!

Look down!

My friend Jenny is also working out there for IHS, so the three of us had dinner, and their friend Ericka also stopped by and we all hung out for a while.

This is the view starting out the four-hour drive back to PHX and my flight to Chicago.

My emotional state at that point surprised me. I realized I was sad for the simple prospect of missing Dani, and Jenny too, as I left. I hadn't felt that strongly about leaving anyone in a long time.

It was a fitting visual. I turned up the music, pushed the pedal down, and continued on my journey, too far gone to see anything if I looked back.

Microcar vs. Ninjas

I'm back from AZ and this is the first thing I post.

Those who want to talk have my number...

I know it's been a few weeks. The birthday weekend was a blast. I won't go into details due to being very tired and very pressed for time, but suffice it to say it involved DJing, scootering, bicycling, Smoking Popes, beeeeeeer, more scootering, more bicycling, more DJing, and more beer.

That - combined with last weekend's excursion to GORP in St. Louis, which fuckin' sucks - has left me with very little free time, and we got a bunch of prep work for the incoming residents dumped on us at the last minute as well. And of course I have to get up at 4am to catch a flight to PHX.

Maybe when I get back next week I can post some photos. Yeah, right. Sorry this blog is turning to suckage, but that's because I'm out doing other things, things more rewarding than relating my day to the computer. Plus I'm tired and a little buzzed from only a couple beers down at Cafe Fresco, and can't remember all the great topics I want to write about.

Those who want to talk have my number, so thbbbtttt! to those who don't. Look me up on MySpace if you need me that badly.

Let's get this party started right....

For years I never really cared about my birthday. Whoop-dee-do. Open some cards, get some cash, open some presents.

Two years ago, I actually forgot it was my birthday. I was hanging out with Marissa, who I'd met a few weeks earlier on a plane back from Quebec. It was stormy, we were driving back to her house from the grocery store and I started talking about how I'd gone camping the week before and burnt up whatever I had left over from my time with Marta. I must've said something about the age difference between us, because Marissa asked how old I was - which is when I realized it was my birthday. It was 5pm and it hadn't occurred to me all day.

Last year I actually had some plans. Vic Ruggiero, the Germs, Ska Night at Delilah's, and Critical Mass all put in an appearance, but the Sushi Para visitation was light - just Jamal and me, sharing our lonely birthday sushi dinner...

Tonight I picked up some tix for the Smoking Popes show on Friday, at which I shall meet Trish after Critical Mass likely heads out to Berwyn. ("BERR-WYNNNN?!?!?!") I also treated myself to dinner at the Handlebar and picked up some cashola to cover this weekend's potential expenses.

Tomorrow the plan is to pick up the Vespa from Old Town - finally! - and meet eight or nine people up at Sushi Para for AYCE BYOB sushi before heading to Delilah's for Ska Night, where I plan to DJ until Chuck shows up (usually late) for his regular gig.

Friday is the aforementioned Critical Mass ride and Smoking Popes show. Sometime this weekend I plan to see the Simpsons movie and get together with Liv and Les for dinner at least.

Monday I spin punk night at Delilah's. It's been a long time.

Tuesday is the Ukrainian Village Draught Beer Preservation Society's Tour de Biergarten. What a cap! I shall be totally tanked out and blitzed. Just in time for GORP next weekend.

I want a fuckin' moped now. Dork.

I've never been a Michael Jackson fan, but...

There's something about watching 1500+ inmates doing this...

Now think about the geo-cultural implications of prison inmates recreating a 20-year-old music video, and how the decision got promulgated amongst the inmates and prison administrators...

Mmmmm.........mass-marketing product tie-in......

It's been a while since I've really posted much here. But a few people have let me know recently that they like reading it, and Ryan K. told me he never knows what I'm up to anymore.

I've been writing less because, frankly, I couldn't be bothered. There wasn't anything I felt like I had to share. I was able to tell my stories to real people - even though some of those same real people read this. And, truth be told, not spending the time almost every night let me realize how much time I was devoting to this thing. (Too much.) So its priority got seriously downgraded. Or maybe I just had less to complain about.

The Vespa's in the shop for its 1,000km oil change and comprehensive inspection. I should (hopefully) be getting it back any day now. The shop in Chicago has to send it to their Joliet dealer for service, and the truck apparently doesn't come that frequently.

Here's some photos of the Kwik-E-Mart:Green squishee and frozen Jasper...

Who needs the Kwik-E-Mart?
I do.

Laugh out loud!

Holy shit!

iPhones are really just mass-marketed inferior products.

I hate the Republican party, too.

That's some cool-ass shit!

Makes me feel like I'm totally incompetent.

Here come the mods! Look out! They're coming for you!

I'm tired. Dana's apartment is apparently infested with bedbugs, so I helped her move some of her stuff out this evening. Feh.

This weekend was loooooong. Saturday was the third annual Mods vs. Rockers at Delilah's, so pretty much from noon to five I was hanging out up on Lincoln Ave.

I met some cool people - like Drew here - shot the shit, and saw a ton of scooters and motorcycles.

This Thai puppy provided a nice cover when it started raining in the middle of the afternoon. It dried off quickly, though it rained on us twice more before the end of the night.

Of course, there were a ton of motorcycles around, too.

Sean told me that they ended up making copies of the police NO PARKING flyers and flyering every parking meter for two blocks down.

We pulled out for a big group ride up to Montrose Harbor and then down to Motoworks on the west side. Of course, right after we got onto Lake Shore Drive, traffic slowed to a standstill and it started raining. It was so damn hot that day, that it wasn't too uncomfortable.

From LSD we hit Lower Wacker, which was nuts - a swarm of scooters and motorcycles ripping through there, and then onto I-290 out to Western. Pretty fun. More groups rides needed. After dinner at Motoworks, a bunch of us scooted back up to Delilah's via surface streets. I don't know what people thought seeing a bunch of scooters buzzing around.


Yesterday, I decided to take advantage of the gorgeous hot day and ride up Sheridan Road to Lake Bluff, since I'm going to miss the Scooterworks ride for being in Portland next weekend. It was great, although of course it would have been more fun if able to share it with someone.

Ah, well. C'est la vie.

I need to bicycle more, but the Vespa is so tempting. I'm being tempted by the Scooter Cannonball. The next one isn't until fall of 2008, I believe, but with my financial and time availability at that point in my career, I doubt it'll happen until 2010. Which is okay in a way, since it'll probably take me that long to find someone to ride it with me for company.

Anyone know what's good to do in Portland? I've got Thursday night and Saturday night to kill this weekend.

Fucking free drinks...

I would have liked to have been in bed a few hours ago, but $22 worth of drinks - only $5 of which I was charged for - kept me out longer than planned.

It's a weird feeling when I feel fine leaving the bar, but by the time I get home I find myself a little unsteady. Maybe "scary" is a better descriptor.

I've been sunned and rained on this weekend, worn myself out, sung along to live and prerecorded music, and generally taken good advantage of my free time to have fun and not accomplish anything. I've got a shitload of pictures; hopefully I can upload them before I head out to Portland next weekend.

First Drink of the Day!

Do you like ska, monkeys, and/or beer?

I thought so. Check this out.

The wind becomes a tornado

Tuesday night, for a lark, I took advantage of the cool weather to ride the Vespa up to Kafein in Evanston. I got kinda cold in just a T-shirt and leather jacket, riding into the 50-degree night weather. It was fun though. There was a super-cute girl, with hair maybe a quarter-inch longer than mine on one of the couches near me...too bad she was way too young.

Dana finally got a bicycle, after talking about it for a year. Last night we rode down to 31st St. Beach and sat and talked and caught up. Then we started back and I had a flat tire. Goddamnit. We walked the five miles or so back to her place and I got a ride home. Good opportunity to have a long conversation, though.

I got pissed off riding up Halsted this evening. Practically every asshole using the bike lane as a passing lane was in some sort of SUV. Even with bicycles wizzing and passing them by, they didn't have the common decency to get the fuck out of the bike lane. Shitheads. Were I on my bike and not the Vespa, I would have run out of loogies to hock at them.

It's so windy outside, my apartment is being messed up further by the vortices produced.

My shirt today says "BUSH HATES ME"

I think I'm caught up - for the next few days, at least - on my work. Which means I'm free nights. Who's up for a drink? Or a bike ride?

Anyway, I've spent most of my free time doing political reading online. I was telling Chris yesterday - as I've told my mother at one point in the last month - that the Bushies were closet fascists. Fortunately, our culture holds them somewhat to task (for the time being). But will it work in the long run? How do you think people would react to unfettered executive privilege? And speaking of Bushie fascism, Andrew Sullivan compares now-legal "enhanced interrogation techniques" to those of the Nazis, including documentation from the post-WWII war crimes tribunals.

I wonder what Germany felt like in the 1920s?