Craig’s Tumblelog

merlin:

“No mercy shown.”

New Order - “Ceremony” (Live; NYC; 1981)

Crazy times.

Your singer (and the driving creative force behind your enthusiastic but unpolished band) just assholingly hanged himself 18 months ago.

You have this one mostly-unfinished dirge of a song you’ve played a few times at rehearsal and a few times live, and your label is generously declaring, The Single.

And, now you’re live in fucking New York City.

What you don’t know is, your label is about to be a balls-out cock-up, your genre-defining dance hit will presently (and, inexplicably) lose untold shit-tons of Pounds Sterling, and you’ll soon enough be ingesting masses of coke that rival a teeth-gnashing Tony Montana with Feds at the door.

But, tonight? In this city, yeah, you’re one of maybe 300 above-average bands on the business end of a Shure, and this fucking town is lousy with actual geniuses whose five life-changing albums you own, and now you’re gamely tendering what you haven’t yet figured out is one of the best A-Sides of your generation.

Thanks, sorry, and —seriously— thanks, New Order.

We love you for when you had zero fucking idea how good you were. And, improbably, when you had equally little idea much you could be loved.

Heaven knows, it’s got to be this time.

Normally, if given a choice between doing something and nothing, I’d choose to do nothing. But I will do something if it helps someone else do nothing. I’d work all night if it meant nothing got done.
Ronald Ulysses Swanson

TUMBLR STOP SHOWING ME ADS FOR DOG FOOD I DON’T EVEN HAVE A DOG

This is a test of the ȯggl photography network.

This is a test of the ȯggl photography network.

If you put a Cheeto on a big white plate in a formal restaurant and serve it with chopsticks and say something like “It is a cornmeal quenelle, extruded at a high speed, and so the extrusion heats the cornmeal ‘polenta’ and flash-cooks it, trapping air and giving it a crispy texture with a striking lightness. It is then dusted with an ‘umami powder’ glutamate and evaporated-dairy-solids blend.” People would go just nuts for that.

merlin:

Portlandia - “Dream of the 1890s”

The instrumentation and performance are just perfect in about half a dozen ways.

My God, I love this show.

teddziuba:

I own 5 guns. 4 of them are traditional looking hunting rifles and shotguns.

However, one of them is an AR-15, a “military-style assault rifle”, except that it’s been modified so as not to fit the definition of an “assault weapon”, since assault weapons are illegal in California. I bought it…


  Pinocchio premiered in New York City on February 7, 1940 at the Center Theatre. After Snow White the expectations were high, and RKO and Disney wanted a sensational reception and opening for the film (as had Snow White at the Carthay Circle). Perhaps inspired by the lovable seven dwarfs (that were not so lovable in their rather frightening costumes at the Carthay Circle premiere), the publicity department hired eleven midgets, clothed them in Pinocchio costumes, and placed them atop the theater marquee on opening day–there to cavort about and lend a bit of atmosphere in preparation for the experience awaiting the audience inside.
  
  At lunchtime, food and a couple of quarts of spirituous liquid refreshment were hoisted up to the tiny troopers. Inspired by the brew, the diminutive denizens began to remove their garments. By three o’clock that afternoon, patrons were startled to see and hear eleven naked midgets loudly belching and busily engaged in a lively crap game atop the marquee. The au naturel legion of Pinocchios steadfastly refused the commands to cover up and climb down. Police were called in and they climbed ladders to reach the merry crew, restored their modesty by clothing them in pillow cases, and hauled them down to street level before a wondering crowd.

Pinocchio premiered in New York City on February 7, 1940 at the Center Theatre. After Snow White the expectations were high, and RKO and Disney wanted a sensational reception and opening for the film (as had Snow White at the Carthay Circle). Perhaps inspired by the lovable seven dwarfs (that were not so lovable in their rather frightening costumes at the Carthay Circle premiere), the publicity department hired eleven midgets, clothed them in Pinocchio costumes, and placed them atop the theater marquee on opening day–there to cavort about and lend a bit of atmosphere in preparation for the experience awaiting the audience inside.

At lunchtime, food and a couple of quarts of spirituous liquid refreshment were hoisted up to the tiny troopers. Inspired by the brew, the diminutive denizens began to remove their garments. By three o’clock that afternoon, patrons were startled to see and hear eleven naked midgets loudly belching and busily engaged in a lively crap game atop the marquee. The au naturel legion of Pinocchios steadfastly refused the commands to cover up and climb down. Police were called in and they climbed ladders to reach the merry crew, restored their modesty by clothing them in pillow cases, and hauled them down to street level before a wondering crowd.

What a tease.

What a tease.

Etched deep in the DNA of trendy bars, pretty much by definition, is a compulsion toward newness. In America, circa 2012, this can mean an unpublished phone number, a hidden entrance, ever more varieties of bitters, an illegal on-site distilling operation, mixology equipment that looks like it was boosted from a packaged-foods plant, and, well, a certain skit from Portlandia comes to mind.

Just when I thought I’d seen it all, I recently discovered that Saxon + Parole, a very of-the-moment restaurant and bar in New York City’s East Village, was exploring some truly uncharted territory: a subscription service…