Lunar Obverse

Darby Conley is one of the funniest mainstream comic artists around. Get Fuzzy is, to my twisted mind at least, HI-freakin’-larious.

I hope I’m not stepping on any toes, but I have to share this. I reproduce here, under the cover of Fair Use, the author’s introduction to the latest collection of Get Fuzzy comics, “Bucky Katt’s Big Book of Fun”. If I hear from the lawyers, or even Darby himself (I’ve sent him email so we can be on a first-name basis (not that he’s ever returned the favor, but, hey, I can be big about that)), I will remove this post, or edit it down, or something to make it less likely that I can be sued about it.

get fuzzy
an apology

I must confess that when I invented the characters for what was to become the comic strip “get fuzzy,” I had never owned a cat.

I never really spent too much time with them, either, as I grew up in Tennessee, smack-dab in the middle of America’s hound belt. The cats in Knoxville in the ’70s and ’80s were few, far between, and deep in hiding.

I thought the idea of psychotic cats, scratched-up furniture, and gooey hairballs was funny.

But now I have a cat.
And I have furniture that’s been destroyed.
And I have a cabinet full of enzyme-based cleaning products.
And I have some of those flesh wounds which seemed so comical on other people.

And I’ve come to the conclusion that, well… cats aren’t funny. I understand that now. So as you read this book, please remember that it was written out of ignorance, and I am sorry.

Sorry and ignorant.

But mostly just sorry, ’cause, you know… I got the cat now.

Sorry.

Respectfully,
darby conley

If this serves as your introduction to the humor of Darby Conley, then I hope you find it as funny as I do. I’m just trying to get someone else as embarrassed as I was when I read this and laughed out loud in the store.

You can find more stuff I think is funny under the Humor section of my Links page.

I think I was sexually harrassed yesterday.

At work, there’s a side office where several older (well, older than me) ladies work. They always have candy out, lots and lots of candy. Chocolate, licorice, jelly beans, you name it and they’ve probably got it or will have it out in the next week. I often stop by when I’m in that building and pick something up. They usually comment on my recent weight loss, making remarks about how impossible it seems that I can get so thin when I’m always eating candy. I laugh and just let them think that.

Yesterday I stopped by there, and one of them called me “Skinny” and I asked her, in mock indignation, to repeat herself. She said that I was definitely skinny now, and the other ladies agreed. I told them that I didn’t really think someone who was still 15-20 lb. overweight could be considered “skinny”.

Then one of them told me that I had crossed a line; “You’ve passed into ‘cute’.”

Waitaminute. What was I before? I was cute before, wasn’t I? My girlfriends thought so, anyway.

I’m not offended by what they said, but I was uncomfortable when they said it. It was a fairly bold statement, and not one I’m used to. This is all simply a reminder for me about our perception of people, and how much it’s influenced by things like weight or clothing. Some might call it “shallow” but I don’t; it’s simply a heritage of our evolutionary past. We tend to only pay attention to attractive people, or at least give them more benefit of the doubt.

Gwyneth Paltrow is someone who has never had the opportunity to be unnoticed, being as she is very thin and very attractive. But apparently, when she was making the movie “Shallow Hal” she had to wear a suit that made her fat. In an interview, she describes people’s reaction to her:

Well, I put on the suit and I went outside and walked around. It was actually very interesting, because I was really nervous about being found out. But when I walked around, nobody would even make eye contact with me. Like nobody would even look in my direction. Because I think when you get a sense of someone being slightly outside what we all consider normal, you think, oh it’s polite not to look. But actually, it’s incredibly isolating. And it really upset me.

People don’t notice others who are outside of the norm: fat, scarred, missing limbs: they’re invisible, she seems to be saying. I don’t think that that’s the right conclusion to draw, though. People notice fat people, and even interact with them. But what they don’t do is initiate contact. They wait and see if the other person, the “non-normal” person, will see them first. Not consciously, I think, but on a more subtle level. People, I think, are neutral towards average folk and those that they deem unattractive. But people seek out the attention of those who are attractive. They watch the pretty one’s faces for signs of recognition. They secretly, to themselves, hope for eye contact, or something as bold as a smile. This, I think, is what Gwyneth missed when putting on the fat suit. That’s what she was deprived of. And, noticing that, she felt isolated, alone. It’s fascinating to me…

I have noticed that, when smiling or catching the attention of women (well, men, too, but I’m not so interested in that) now that I’m thinner, I get a response more often than I did before. It’s a powerful feeling, and one that I hope to keep in check. I just have to remember that I wasn’t always like the way I am now… must… remember… always…

So, how you doin’? *wink*

I bought 5 new CDs last night, and on my lunch break I bought another 2. I’m in a New Music Frenzy. And I think we all know exactly how painful that can be.

I bought:

• …And You Shall Know Us By The Trail Of Dead, “Madonna”
• …And You Shall Know Us By The Trail Of Dead, “Source Tags & Codes”
• The Bloodhound Gang, “Hooray For Boobies”
• Bush, “Sixteen Stone”
• Cake, “Prolonging the Magic”
• The Long Winters, “the worst you can do is harm”
• Pixies, “Doolittle”
• Pixies, “Trompe le Monde”

The purchase of Trail Of Dead and the Pixies were inspired by, of course, Coachella. Trail of Dead is hardcore punk, at least to my ears and sounds great.

Bush is a band I’ve liked for a while, but all I have of theirs is their two earliest radio singles, “Glycerine” and “Machinehead” from my days of downloading, so I figured I’d buy the CD that contained those tracks. You know, go legit.

The Cake CD is one that I already had a copy of, but discovered that it wasn’t the “Explicit lyrics” version. So I took the old one back, and bought a copy that had the “Explicit lyrics” label on it, used, from my old friend, Everyday Music on W. Burnside. But after listening, very carefully, to the newly-ripped CD on my iPod, I have to admit that I can’t tell the difference, lyrics-wise, between what I had before and what I now have. But there is one difference I can make out: the version of “Hem of your Garment” on the new CD has a different arrangement. The music is more sparse. But other than that…

The Long Winters is a band I’ve liked for about a year now, having seen them open for They Might Be Giants last April. I already had ripped a friend’s copy of that CD, but, once again, decided to go legit and purchase my own copy, seeing as how I’ve been listening to them again lately.

And The Bloodhound Gang is a band that my friend told me about on the drive down to Indio. I had one of their tracks already and figured it was atypical of the rest of their work, since the song I had, “A Lap Dance Is So Much Better When The Stripper Is Cryin'”, was obviously a joke. But my friend informed me that, yes, most of their songs were in a similar vein. Which makes The Bloodhound Gang like a much more cynical and sex-and-violence-obsessed version of Cake. Tasty…

There’s still several new bands I intend to get over the next couple of weeks, like Sage Francis and Hieroglyphic, two hip-hop bands that had a great sound and some very liberal political views, and The (International) Noise Conspiracy, a rock band out of Sweden. There are some others, but I can’t remember them right now… still, that ought to keep me in new music for at least a couple of weeks.

In other, related, news, I made up a playlist for my iPod of the set list that Radiohead played Saturday night, and have started listening to it repeatedly. I hope that by fixing that order of songs in my head, and imagining the concert, I will be able to recall the entire concert whenever I wish. Yes, I know, I know… obsessed. Heh.

First lesson of blogging: don’t shoot off your mouth without doing at least some basic research first. In yesterday’s post I said that Radiohead doesn’t play tracks from their first CD, “Pablo Honey”, which would include their most popular song, “Creep”.

I’ve since found a website, 58 Hours, that is a database of every song Radiohead has ever played, searchable by song, by date, or by venue. Doing a search on “Creep” shows that, prior to the Coachella appearance, they played “Creep” a total of 180 times, 10 times in 2003, and one time each in 2002 and 2001. There’s a 2-year gap in there, from 6/14/1998 to 7/7/2001, where they didn’t play it live at all. So I’d imagine that that gap is the reason for my impression that they “never” play “Creep”.
Apparently they’ve made their peace with the song. Even though it doesn’t show up as often as other songs, it’s still part of their set lists and has been for the past year or so.

It’s amazing what you can find out on the InterWeb.

Coachella was amazing. I hardly know where to start.

The drive down, from Portland to Indio, California, was brutal. I and my friend left town around 3:15 PM on Friday, only stopped briefly for gas, to switch drivers, and incidental snacks 3-4 times, and pulled in to the campsite parking lot at 8:45 AM Saturday. After some wandering around, we grabbed a campsite and set up our tent. The heat was already brutal; according to weather.com it was only 99°, but damn it was hot. The combination of no sleep the night before and not nearly enough water made for a long day. Luckily, even though the event organizers stated that water bottles would not be allowed inside, the security girl that checked our backpacks allowed us to bring our Nalgene bottles in, which was a lifesaver. Security girl, I salute you…

The festival was taking place at Empire Polo Grounds, in a grassy area marked off with 15′ tall shrubberies. Scattered around the grounds, amongst the stages and tents, were some sculptures and art projects. I took a couple of pictures of this giant, broken red-glass chandelier, laying just as if it had fallen from the sky. People were using this (and anything else that cast a shadow) to get out of the blistering sun.

Later that night, they turned on spotlights around the perimeter of the grounds. In the night sky, the beams showed up as pillars of light, that all converged to a point overhead; obviously the pinnacle from which the chandelier had been suspended.

I saw several new bands and am adding considerably to my iPod. My friend, also, brought along some CDs of bands that I had never heard before, and we turned the trip into a New Music Experience. But the highlights of the festival were hearing Beck, the Pixies, and Radiohead, all live and within hours of each other.

Beck’s set was in the heat of the day, around 4:00 – 4:30 or so (I had lost track) and was in one of the smaller side tents. People were congregating in that tent and spilling out into the surrounding area for a half-hour before he came out. Oh, and he started late. The crowd was pressed up in the tightest crowd I had ever been in. I and my friend were outside the tent, so there was no shade, and the body heat only added to my discomfort. I’d like to say that hearing Beck made it all worthwhile, but I have to wonder if he didn’t choose a small tent on purpose, in order to limit the number of people who could hear him. When he started his set (a song I didn’t recognize; the only albums of his I’m familiar with are Odelay and Sea Change, along with the songs they play on the radio) he didn’t acknowledge the heat or the large crowd. He played solo, just him and an acoustic guitar. I was able to move forward as people got tired of the heat and left, but never got a glimpse of him. My friend did manage to see his mop of hair over the heads of the audience, though.

The Pixies had their set on the main stage, starting around dusk. This was their reunion tour. Earlier this week, I used some free credits on the iTunes Music Store to download some of their songs, just to be familiar with their sound. I didn’t think I knew many of their songs, but once they played I had several moments where I went, “Oh, so that song’s one of theirs!” I liked what I heard, and will definitely pick up some of their CDs.

This was my view of the stage for the Pixies and Radiohead. Sorry for the blurriness; my contacts were so dry from standing in the desert all day.

But the main reason I went, the primary goal of this trip for me, was to hear Radiohead live. The set started with a darkened stage, then Johnny Greenwood and Phil Selway came out on stage and began the hypnotic opening to “There There”. When Thom Yorke came out and simply said, “Hello there”, the crowd roared their approval. They played a full hour-long set, mostly tracks from their newest CD, “Hail to the Thief”, mixed with tracks from all their other CDs, with the exception of “Pablo Honey”, their first CD. I’ve read that the band doesn’t like that particular CD, and I’ve never heard an explanation. Their single from that CD, “Creep”, is the single that launched their popularity, and is almost the only song of theirs that gets radio play. I understand they have a love-hate relationship with that song, and the CD it came from, and for those reasons they never play “Creep” in concert.

When their set ended, they came back for their encore. Most bands play one or two songs, then retreat again. They launched into a terrifically odd version of “You And Whose Army?” (yet another political statement), then “Planet Telex”, and then, as the music slowed and quieted a bit for their second song, Mr. Yorke, not the most talkative people, mumbled into the mike, “I hope I remember the words…”

…and they played “Creep”, to the delight of the entire crowd. Thom mugged for the cameras; the screens on either side of the stage showed an extreme close-up of his thin face leering into the crowd while clutching the microphone tight to his mouth. The crowd ate it up; during one chorus, after singing “But I’m a creep / I’m a weirdo” he acknowledged, “I am, I really am!” Of that there’s not a shred of doubt. But he’s such a charming weirdo.

When the song finished, Thom spoke up again, and confessed, “That was for the Pixies. When I was in college, the Pixies and REM changed my life.” It was a tribute! A revealing moment for such a private person.

And I was there to hear it.

They ended up playing almost another entire set for their encore, a total of 20 songs and two hours. Here’s the set list:

First set:

• There There
• 2+2=5
• Lucky
• Myxomatosis
• My Iron Lung
• Exit Music (for a film)
• The Gloaming
• Karma Police
• Sail To The Moon
• I Might Be Wrong
• Sit Down. Stand Up.
• No Surprises
• National Anthem
• Paranoid Android
• Idioteque
• Street Spirit (fade out)

Encore:

• You And Whose Army?
• Planet Telex
• Creep
• Everything In Its Right Place

I’ll post more about the trip, some of the other bands I saw, and the drive back home (with a detour through Oakland and San Francisco) in a few days. I did not burn, having the foresight to slather myself in SPF 30 sunblock, but I did get blisters on my heels from wearing my sandals for the 36 hours I was driving. I hope that doesn’t prevent me from running this week; there’s a race in Lake Oswego next weekend…

I normally order a soy chai latte in the morning. I like getting the soy chai from Starbucks because they use vanilla-flavored soy. That way I’m getting all the spicy flavor goodness of chai, plus the vanilla flavor, and the low-fat and healthy soy lovin’.

The other day, though, the barrista (he was a guy; does that make him a barristo? Just curious) asked me if I wanted cinnamon or nutmeg on my chai. And, after a microsecond of reflection, I realized, that, yes, of course, that’s exaaaaaactly what I wanted: cinnamon. The perfect flavor to add to the vanilla/spicy chai combination. Mmmmmm.

So, this morning, because I wanted caffeine instead of whatever stimulants chai has, I ordered a soy latté, instead. And I decided to try the cinnamon sprinkles on top of that.

Meh. It’s not nearly as good as the soy-chai-with-cinnamon. Oh, well, I was feeling experimental, anyway.

After posting last night, I called my friend in a panic, telling him that we weren’t going to stop, that we were going to drive straight through, because there was no way in Gehenna that I was going to miss Radiohead.

Luckily, he was able to talk some sense into me. The gates on Saturday open at 11 AM, so it was obvious that Radiohead was going on stage at 9 PM, not 9 AM. Which makes a bucket load of sense, considering.

Man-o-man was I tired and cranky yesterday. Not thinking straight.

Oh, right, here’s the set list. See, what confused me is that the times for each stage are listed in reverse order. It’s not my fault, really. The fact that I was already grumpy has nothing to do with it. Honest.