Friday, October 26, 2007

It's raining outside so..................






Thanks Jack,
Meg........

and Kate, of course.

Thursday, October 18, 2007

One More Reason to Live




As a young lad, and future point man for the MTG, there were few pleasures more real to me than dashing home from grades 3 and 4, heels barely touching the ground, before skidding to a sweaty stop in front of the TV set just in time to mainline my daily “Speed Racer” fix. Immediately following those 30 thrilling minutes my friends and I, while running the streets, would solemnly discuss, rehash, contemplate and dream about the latest episode of the ongoing animated series that was the collective obsession of our adolescent male fantasies.

A brief synopsis for the deprived- Speed Racer was both the title of the show and the sexy moniker of our main protagonist. Speed was a perhaps teenage boy (maybe early 20’s, it was never really established) who spent his days traveling the world in his tricked out car-The Mach 5- sometimes actually rally racing and other times just enjoying wild adventures with his lovely GF, Trixie, occasionally by his side and often his little brother, Spridel, in tow along with Spridel’s monkey friend, Chim Chim. Of course, and inevitably, there were deep dark secrets hidden in Speed’s family past and the formidable Racer X, the Masked Racer, was always lingering on the edge of the plot like a vengeful sword waiting to fall.

And now word approaches (I realize that this news may not be the freshest loaf on the shelf but gimme a break, I’m on the other side of the planet and these Internets confuse and frighten me) that the Wachowski’s (of the Matrix series) are in production and currently shooting for a ’08 release date of a Live Action Speed Racer Movie. I'd call it a film but we all know that this is, hopefully, a movie. Casting is rumored to be complete, filming rumored to be state-of-the-art and the Mach 5 is rumored to be looking SWEEEEEEET!


But, please understand, it is not my intention to critique these rumors, comment on the W project or chime in with unsolicited advice; I’m no filmmaker and so I only wish them all the luck and hope for the best of what may come while simultaneously keeping my expectations very low.

No, I’m here to celebrate- albeit late to the party- the continued cultural triumphs and sustained advancement of even the flimsiest of our MTG childhood fantasies into that of Multimillion dollar cinematic realities soon to be coming to a Theater near YOU! We are ascendant!

They’re giving us Speed, man…….and the MACH 5!
I never thought I’d live to see the day.

And what, the uninitiated are likely asking, is so significant about Speed Racer?

I must recall that 3rd grade boy and state simply that Speed was everything he was not, did everything he could not, had everything he did not. Devilishly handsome looks, bravery in the face of tasty danger, fast fists in any fight, a passport to the Widest of Worlds and a fine-ass GF with a killer smile to go along with the only keys to the Bossest Ride on the Planet. A car that could jump through the air (and the sound effect of that leap would be unequaled in my childhood world of sound effects until the 6 Million Dollar Man came along and did some jumping of his own), swim through the sea and slice through a forest like a hot knife through butter. The Powerful Mach 5 had a bulletproof cockpit, all terrain tires and a keen robot bird/drone that could launch from the hood to recon or otherwise just harass the enemy and every one of these features was available at the touch of a steering wheel button and, let me tell you, that choice ride looked damned good sitting perfectly still too.
Speed drove fast and played hard everywhere and anywhere, mostly winning in the end but often pressing his luck too far and having to get his ass pulled out of the fire by the menacing, mysterious Racer X, sometime before he sped off leaving Speed to wonder how he got to where he was in one piece.
You see, that little shorty, and many others I imagine, sitting rapt in front of that 70’s Boobtube always believed that if he could grow up to be half the solemn, strong, selfless and quietly loyal Antihero that was Racer X then his life would most certainly be a true accomplishment.
If he could somehow snag a lovely, lively, slender, smiling, supportive girl like Trixie to stand beside him and cheer him on (and before the American Women who I love march on my house with torches to burn me to the ground then stomp on my roasted corpse please let me explain that this was the very early 70’s, sometime before slender, smiling and supportive became misogynist epithets and well before standing beside and cheering your man on became unworthy, un-American activities far, far beneath you) then any cost would be worth the price.
If only life were a race where victory belonged exclusively to the daring and brave and true with shadowy figures remaining strictly in the background waiting to help you when you faltered……………..

And then 5th grade started and I pretty much forgot all about that crap and only wanted, instead, to play baseball and feel some tits, basically in that order.


EXTREME SPOILER ALERT AHEAD!


But, gratefully, the wonders of the show remain forever logged in my deepest memory and although the central mysteries of the series- there were 2 which eternally perplexed me- may struggle to stay fresh in my now fading brain they lay urgent and ever-present in my still aching adolescent heart.

1.) When the Hell is Speed going to find out that Racer X is actually- WAIT FOR IT- his long lost and forgotten brother, Rex Racer, who left home years earlier (after wrecking his father, Pops’, prized vehicle in a lone rookie crash) vowing to never return until he was THE BEST RACE DRIVER IN THE WORLD and could thereby redeem himself in his father’s eyes and rejoin the Racer Clan with his pride intact.

And

2.) Why the f**k does Speed wear a “G” on the front of his shirt? His initials are S.R. and his car is the Mach Five. “G”??????

At last (as of yesterday when I rhapsodized with a MTG J-friend, thank you Naruhito-san, who assured me that the Show was equally popular among J-boys)this secret was revealed to me. Sure some ‘net savvy geeks may have found out with a few flicks of their pipe cleaner wrists but, Dammit, I flew 14 hours and talked to an actual human being in order to discover the answer so how about a little compassion!

Our little American cartoon show, you see, was of course actually created in Japan in 1967(later sold American)by the brilliant Tatsuo Yoshida and its original J-title was- Mach (pronounced MaHa) Go Go Go.
This was a nifty little play on words- Go was the Hero’s first name (and also a not uncommon boys name in Japan) in the original- just like Speed/Speed Racer- as well as being the word for # 5 in Japanese, as in the Mach 5, Go’s ride. In addition, since it was the 60’s, the Go-Go was thrown in for the rebellious connection to a hip rock-n-roll lifestyle and, lastly, Go obviously has its own separate meaning in English which J-folk love to manipulate to their own satisfaction.

“G” for Go/Speed! I cannot explain to you how radiant I am right now, glowing with the most sincere and complete feelings of warm peaceful satisfaction!

And it only took me 30something years.

The following is for nothing. My Dream Casting-

Speed- Elvis, Jailhouse Rock version or Johnny Depp circa 21 Jumpstreet/Platoon.

Trixie- Edie Sedgwick early Warhol era.

Pops Racer- Burt Reynolds right after “Hooper”

Racer X- HERE’S THE KILLER
Steve McQueen (hey, I said it was dream casting) any 60’s/70’s period.


Since all of the male MTG has the American Theme Song permanently burned into their brain pans I figured I’d treat you to the Original. The singing isn’t quite as good as the schmaltzy American version but the Music is the same and the animation(Speed tooling around Africa jumping over elephants and shit) a bit cooler.


Monday, October 15, 2007

We now interrupt your regularly scheduled blog......



After glancing at my previous post I realize that I may have been somewhat harsh on the non-MTG generations and so, in the spirit of brotherhood, I make a humble offering.










Thanks Kurt, you said it better than I ever could.


And also-for your viewing pleasure- please enjoy the awesome power and precision of Senor Tony Iommi's axe as his band thunders out a message for the kids.




In case you were wondering... those were actual human beings playing actual musical instruments. They were, in those days, known as "musicians".

Friday, October 12, 2007

Let's do the Lighten Up!




Due to a recent surge in faithful readership (Now 20’s of Us!) I’ve begun to feel a distinct need to further clarify and illuminate this phenomena know as the Manual Typewriter Generation so that We, its elite and rapidly aging members, can stand ever more proudly amongst our fellow citizens and proclaim the righteousness of our existence, the soundness of our thinking, the purity of our intentions as we demand full recognition of our overlooked but honorable fraternity.

So I submit the following as evidence of your inclusion into our brave ranks.

Can you remember that murky time long past before the existence of ATM’s? Where the Hell did we get the cold green paper from back then? Did we just walk around with it stuffed in our pockets at all indecent hours of the day and night? What did we do after dropping that final dollar in the very last saloon before realizing we would require a fat bag of White Castles before the ride home? It’s all foggy to me somehow………..


When making phone calls did you ever carry the actual dialing device (approximate size of 2 bricks strapped together) in one hand with the receiver in the other while being simultaneously tethered to a wire connected to the wall, which, if you sought after mobility, you had to maneuver around your body like you were playing Double-Dutch? Fun, no?


Can you remember when Playboy was risqué and Penthouse was hardcore, sometime before Hustler came along and shocked the Nation with its XXX depravity? And we lugged these glossy smut rags home to our secret stash spot where we collected, drooled on, jerked over and treasured-while guarding with our lives-these sacred texts for years? How quaint we were.
Now in maybe 5 mins and a few mouse clicks I can find porn that, not only haven’t I experienced in life most real, I haven’t even thought of before.


I like Jay Leno. I think he is most probably, in real life, exactly as he appears to be on stage- a likable, jocular, fair, good guy with a sometimes sharp tongue.
But………………Mr. Leno, I knew Johnny Carson…I was a friend of Johnny Carson…and Mr. Leno….You are no Johnny Carson.
Does your heart yearn to hear the opening strains of Doc Severinson’s blasting theme as Ed McMahon trumpets those magic words of the electric showbiz past-
“and…………………HEEEEERRRRES JOHNNY!”
Me too.


Just a MTG question- Do boys/girls even slowdance anymore?
The absolute pinnacle of my 8th grade existence was when I held Adriana Lopez in my grateful arms as we swayed to “Reasons” by Earth, Wind and Fire at our private Graduation “Set”. Sometime near the end of that lovely number I got up the nerve to slide my sweaty, hungry hands down to her luscious ass. She let me.
If I live to be 100 I’ll never be able to thank her enough.


Do you recall when the worst possible post-sex scenario involved either-
1.Pregnancy or
2.Herpes Simplex II (Oh the incurable horror of cold sores!)
The blissful innocence of it all. Only years into my actual practice of this most sublime of Adult pleasures AIDS was being screamed at us everywhere we ran to and had everyone quaking in their chonies with mass-media scare tactics (Sex=Death) possibly/probably designed to destroy sex in America once and forever. Talk about a Buzzkill.


If you can understand and sympathize with these thoughts then you are, fortunately or no, a member of the MTG. If not- and you’re still reading- CONGRATULATIONS! You are the sole owner of youth and beauty and the future is entirely yours (sorry about that one but we did our best you know) so celebrate your transient power and while you’re at it please heed these gentle words of wisdom-

Put down your F*****G cellphones for a second and talk to each other.

Turn off that slavemaster computer and get your face immediately out of that idiot screen. Open a window, breathe some fresh air, taste the Sun while it lasts, feel the wind through your hair.

Stash your Goddamned Blackberries, unplug your mind (if even for a precious moment) from your Ipods, go outside, enjoy the thrill of the freedom as we know it, raise your fists in the open air and proclaim to your world,

“I’M AS MAD AS HELL AND I’M NOT GONNA TAKE IT ANY MORE!”

Yea……………………………..
Welcome to the MTG.


and if this doesn't make you happy (yea the sound is a bit muddy but Archie is in fine voice) then check your pulse.



Tuesday, October 9, 2007

The Sputnik Rules




Yes, it was only 50 long years and at least a generation or three ago when the Russians (that’s what we called them back then) successfully launched the worlds first satellite into the heavenly void to begin its menacing orbit of the Earth, mechanically beeping its eerie and undeniable message of Soviet Superiority as it soared above us, looming down on our awestruck faces, solitary, untouchable, unstoppable, terrifying and otherworldly.
The Public cowered and the Military shook the Halls of Power with their panicked rhetoric.

They’ve beaten Us to space!

They’re Winning!

Soon They’ll be able to rain missiles down upon us from the Stars! Throw godlike thunderbolts of Communist aggression onto our Armies, cities and schools at will!

We have to fight back! We must beat them to the High Ground!

And so this basketball-sized aluminum egg circled our globe and kicked into a much higher gear what we would later call our “Cold War” against the monolithic power of the Communist Soviet Union, a “War” that would have the entire planet on Doomsday Alert for the next 3 decades and then some. As a direct result of that metal sphere flying inviolate through our skies the US Government went into a frenzy of missile production determined to build thousands of nuclear warhead payloaded ICBM’s that could strike at any moment into the heart of the Enemy’s cities- having the USSR basically ringed with Military Bases and being able to violate their airspace with entire formations of B-52 bombers being apparently insufficient to our defense needs as long as Sputnik was up there somewhere!
The USSR, angered and frustrated militarily by our Air superiority and brass-balled flyovers of their Motherland but retaining the edge in rocket technology, subsequently ramped up their production of same and in a few short years we both had thousands of missiles pointing in each others direction and poised to launch at the literal touch of a button, almost assuredly leading to a catastrophic confrontation of civilization ending proportion as it was certain that not much of the rest of the world would likely survive, or even want to, the Nuclear Winter that would follow our showdown with the Soviet Bear.

So our little game of Atomic Chicken was All In, boys and girls! The only two Great Nuclear Superpowers were perfectly ready, willing and (for the 1st time in history) able to bring down the other along with the rest of the planet in One Big Boom before either of us surrendered to the Menace of - pick ‘em- the Spread of Evil Communism or the Threat of American Imperialism, depending on which side you were standing, while everyone else paced on the sidelines and prayed for the best.

We both took turns accusing, tough talking, posturing, threatening, spying, saber-rattling and stockpiling our deterrents in a near hysterical mania of military one-upmanship.

We both engaged in disastrous conflicts (Vietnam, Afghanistan) to prove our willingness to fight, military might and dogged determination to the other guy.

We both, combined, spent more money on weapons than most of the worlds economies complete GNP’s, combined.

Then, as befitting this glacially paced conflict, in 1989 the Berlin Wall came down signaling a death knell for the Soviet Union.

In 1991 Premier Gorbachev officially folded his cards and the USSR dissolved.

We won.

Almost 5 decades of teeth gnashing hostility, harsh words and very real threats ended with no bang but something much more like a whimper.

7 separate US Administrations (Democratic and Republican) were at the wheel during all this time yet somehow we managed not to kill each other and everybody else with not one single missile launched in anger over those many, many tense years. I don’t know about anyone else but I’d call that a history of proper thinking, bilateral responsibility and hope for the future.

The American architect of this almost unbelievably sound and sensible policy?

An Ambassador to the Soviet Union, George F. Kennan. In 1947 he wrote an article that would become the foundation for decades of US policy concerning the USSR. The article’s advice- Containment.

Mr. Kennan correctly and very wisely surmised that nothing fruitful was to be gained by direct conflict with the USSR and instead preached strategic containment. In short, match the Soviet Threat- politically, ideologically and, not the least, economically- and we will eventually win a “War” that does not need to be fought on any battlefield.

“Thus the decision will really fall in large measure in this country itself. The issue of Soviet-American relations is in essence a test of the overall worth of the United States as a nation among nations. To avoid destruction the United States need only measure up to its own best traditions and prove itself worthy of preservation as a great nation.
Surely, there was never a fairer test of national quality than this. In the light of these circumstances, the thoughtful observer of Russian-American relations will find no cause for complaint in the Kremlin's challenge to American society. He will rather experience a certain gratitude to a Providence which, by providing the American people with this implacable challenge, has made their entire security as a nation dependent on their pulling themselves together and accepting the responsibilities of moral and political leadership that history plainly intended them to bear.”

I’m not at all confused about Our Republic being under current threat but I think I’ve said all that I’m going to about the nature and reality of that challenge we now face.

(Analogblog:My Ex-Pat Manifesto…continued/4.10.07)

There are ways to deal with terrorists. I would suggest small, effective, covert assassination squads. Then go to the source of the terrorist Hydra and salve the wound before it grows two additional heads.
And I’m certain that greater minds can think of even better ways.

To be clear let's remember that for decades we faced off against total annihilation and somehow, someway, slowly, surely triumphed. Now we face religious fanatics who willingly kill themselves in order to take a few of their enemies, and lots of the innocent, with them.

What did our current leaders come up with to combat this most modern form of aggression?

The War on Terror.

We needed a long range foreign policy with realistic goals and sensible short range actions. What we got was a laughable slogan (Remember the War on Drugs? Yea, Drugs won) that didn’t even work on our own shores, a candy color-coded panic meter and a near endless bloodbath with a dog that wasn’t even in the fight.

A threat must be dealt with appropriately but fear is only fear, it can harm no one but can most certainly lead everyone to disaster.

Mr. Kennan, where are you when we need you?

Saturday, October 6, 2007

Larry, we hardly knew ye..........



Well Senators and fellow citizens, Judge Porter from the great State of Minnesota has ruled and it now appears- pending possible appeal- that Sen. Craig’s mailed in plea of Guilty to the charges of Disorderly Conduct in the Minneapolis Airport Toilet will stand up in Court.
In a rare and sound bit of jurisprudence the Honorable Judge Porter stated,

“The Defendant, a career politician with a college education, is of, at least, above average intelligence…he knew what he was saying, reading and signing.”

Fucking OUCH!

King Solomon couldn’t have done it any better and have you ever read a judgment that was so brutally honest, sober, fair, scalding and wickedly sarcastic all in the same incriminating package. Christ, this legal bodyslam alone manages to restore my faith in the Justice system as it now lives and breathes. I don’t know what Judge Porter eats for breakfast but give me a barrel of it!

As for the Senator with the newest misdemeanor record- Keep your head up, Larry! You’re in good company and your club will undoubtedly be filled with more fresh Republican faces (the good money is on Sen. Stevens from Alaska, who knew they had corruption in Alaska?) before the next election year. In a solid show of old fashioned gumption and new age chutzpah and as a real gay burr in the Please-believe-we’re-super-straight Republican saddle Sen. Craig has reversed his position (insert pun here) and proclaimed that he will NOT resign his Senate seat as previously announced and will instead serve out the remainder of his term until Jan. ’09.

GO LARRY, IT’S YOUR BIRTHDAY…..GO LARRY IT’S YOUR BIRTHDAY!
GO…GO…GO….GO….GO…….GO!

But please Senator………..get yourself a nice boyfriend, spend the money if you have to, settle down and stop creeping around public toilets. It really isn’t very becoming Sir.