When visiting the Smithsonian National Museum of American History in Washington D.C. the first thing you'll notice is the crowd gathering around Dorothy's Ruby Slipper's. There is no hurried search for so called 'great' artifacts from an American past: Old Glory, presidential items and so on. It's those pop culture items like the Ruby Slippers, Archie Bunkers Chair, Howdy Doody, that are so loved by the general public. I love this museum, while perusing the jacket of Fonzie next to Mr. Roger's signature red sweater, I learned that Fonzie was a small turd of a man, while big man Mr. Rogers could probably kick some ass, I suppose thats natural, during any sort of revolution(technology), we look to the future with uncertainty, excitement, fear, while the past is comforting, bringing us a sense of security, looking back to where we have been. HistoryWired: Our Favorite Things is the Smithsonians' experimental project which offers a glimpse of 450 of the 3 million objects in its collection. Innovative, you can browse by timeline, theme, search, zoom and text-only. Promising display that brings the American experience to your desktop.
10:43 AM :
Tuesday, August 14, 2001
Missourri artist launches laser project to paint the moon red. Physics may foil his plan. Is this 'we are the music makers and we are the dreamers of the dream?'
Nostalgia arrives quickly. Collectors snatch up momentos of dot.com era.
11:00 AM :
Monday, August 13, 2001
Hey Dr. Funkenstein! Free your ass and your mind will follow. @ #3, drop in The Dazz Band's 'Let it Whip' or George Clinton's 'Knee Deep'. You'll get More bounce to the ounce with Zapp and Roger Troutman, the magic of Ohio Funk, pioneers of the electro inspiration for all things Daft.
8:38 AM :
Sunday, August 12, 2001
Christina: There's a liquor store to the right.
Joan Crawford: I should've know you'd know where to find the boys and the booze!
Christina describes her famous mother Joan.
In the caramel glow of another venue, another dance floor, another ballroom where a giant disco ball infuses the room with a trance like glow of skiddish white spots. You stare at your boots for balance, drinking from the flask you carry in the back pocket of your Levis. Reflections on a rock and roll stamped hand and sound check volume one. I noticed you were on the list and decided wisely to arrive late, the band just came on, and you just came on, and the world just lit up. Gorgeous is surrounded by sexy rock boys with mini hard ons from a kick ass fuzzbox. Did I see you in the House of Lucky Strikes sitting still? Shirtless, a tattooed love boy listening to that Pretenders album while your best bud shaved your hair down with some god damn pinchy Oster contraption. Damn it ouch! Fucking hold still! and you do, as your black boots skuff the wooden floor. Glowing in slo mo through the kitchen, grabbing a beer out of the cooler, its an August infused dream for a summer balcony and you disappear. Hours later a girl who is more of a broad knocks into you, the smell of lip gloss, Final-Net, Fabreeze and music overwhelm you. She wants some hooch and knocks back a good deal of your Jager, handing back your flask, she smiles and disappears into the crowd. After hours by the Superette holding a hot coffee and donut, you're soaked, smelling like Irish Spring, I take you, you're mine, and we disappear.
Bra Ball is turning into the Bra Brawl. The not so cross your heart uplifting saga about Art, Intellectual Property and Support. Duffy and Nicolino battle it out. Maybe we can get Gloria Steinem to set it afire at Burning Man!
8:14 PM :
