My bad, not observing daylight savings time, forgetting to set my alarm clocks back (yes, plural, it takes 3 alarms to ensure I hustle). Instead of 5am, the Mr. Coffee clock reads a ghastly 4am. Returning to bed, I proceed to oversleep by an extra hour, doh! No gym, I’m whooped anyway, sore and seriously dog assed tired, my ‘chip time’ was 4:02:08 on Sunday. Woo Hoo! It was the most perversely exhilarating experience of my life. I need to catch my breath and return e-mail, work on an extended freelance assignment, do some research, write, and help a friend hang his art for an upcoming show. In closing, Jimbo, you CAN pick em’ who’d a thunk the Angels, but beating the Yankees, I knew something was askew! Now if the Bucks can give me my win over those ‘Pork Face Demons’ of Michigan, I’ll be happy. Sorry Todd, sorry JDub…and another thing…it’s snowing *

I’d like to thank the nearly 500 or so visitors who got the goods on Fullmer. Hey, I blame Jimbo, he got me started on Mr. Badboy Brad. Act now, the October special at the OutSports Store is a free JOCK with every order. What’s that, better to be an athlete than an athletic supporter? Who told you that? No lie, but it’s really best to read a brief history of the JOCKSTRAP. Huh? You thought that all webloggers had something to say? Nahhhhh! Just when you thought it was all pop dribble, a site like Iraq Journal jumps up and gives you a smack. As war between America and Iraq looms, coverage by the mainstream media is called into question. Maverick reporter Jeremy Scahill and some impassioned colleagues feel that many journalists have lost credibility, marching lockstep with the Bush administration to a pro-war drumbeat. Live from Baghdad, Scahill and company are sorting out the facts and breaking rank. The goal of this project is to offer an insider’s look at Iraq and how U.S. foreign policy affects the daily lives of Iraqi people. Then again, to avoid the ‘spin factor’ whether liberal or conservative, it’s always best to check your sources. War, sniper attacks, the Souffl� Doctrine as scathing editorial, hell it’s all crash and burn. My astrological forecast tells me to stay in and watch the game.

Monday indeed, I bagged out of work early to catch up on my sleep and kill the head cold. Oh yea, I’m down with the homemade chicken soup (heavy on the pepper) and orange banana pineapple juice. I should be back in the gym tomorrow, urg! I’m drunk on ‘sinutabs’ and woozy with the smell of autumn, peak season for color saturation, unless I’m hallucinating, think not. In honor of the ‘Angels’ win over San Francisco last night, a repost of the bad Brad Fullmer pics. I’m still turning Japanese I think I’m turning Japanese I really think so.(Thanks Steve!) Monday monday monday, why not some B&S?

Municipal pool, you’re a junior life saver
But you’re friends are all serious ravers
Le Pastie de la Bourgeoisie
Reading Judy Blume
But you came too soon

Not since Pink Lady and Jeff have I enjoyed such a fantastic Japanese import. Engrish is a site dedicated to the humorous English mistakes that appear in Japanese advertising and product design. Most of the Engrish found on Engrish.com is not an attempt to communicate – English is used as a design element in Japanese products and advertising to give them a modern look and feel (or just to “look cool”). There is often no attempt to try to get it right, nor do the vast majority of the Japanese population (= consumers) ever attempt to read the English design element in question (the girl wearing the ‘Spread Beaver’ shirt for example, had no idea what it said until a foreigner pointed it out to her). Or Miss Urine Tester U.S.A., Hacker Candy, Pork Joy Gloves, McDonalds Flesh Drink, and Nippless for swimming, dancing and t-shirt time. Perhaps it is the cocktail of leftover children’s Sudafed and a General Foods International Coffee that is making for my love of bizarre posts today. This head-cold has me feeling like giant bobblehead Jocko. I picked up book designer turned author, Chip Kidd’s ‘The Cheese Monkey’s A Novel in Two Semesters’ and it is shaping up to be seriously entertaining. I also opted for Dan Clowes ‘David Boring‘ collection. Pick up Print magazine this month, Daniel Nadel has written a decent piece titled ‘Panel Play: Auteurs and small press publishers are redefining the esthetics of comic books, turning them into objets d’art.’

How ‘POP’ is it when your lovely portrait can be transformed into a beautiful and distinctive LEGO artwork! Make a grayscale LEGO mosaic using your own photographs. Use a digital camera, a scanner to make your photograph into a .jpg or a .gif file on your computer. Edit and send off to LEGO-LAND where a million tiny color blind employees will generate your items. When your LEGO mosaic is returned to you in the mail, you’ll get up to five different colors of 1×1 LEGO plates, a baseplate to build on, black slope bricks for your frame and a brick separator, plus detailed instructions on how to put together your picture. Send porn, send 3 kittens with a ball of yarn, sad clowns, send in the Mona Lisa, Elvis on black velvet!

A Starbucks in every new Target store, that even scares the shit out of me, or ummm… excites me, I can’t figure out which. Perhaps I am just really excited by the term ‘kiosk’. Right alongside the advert that reads ‘Viagra Faces Stiff Competition’ I found this article about the Scottish McDonalds, seems some McHaggis lovers were spicing up their meals with a little hard core porn.

Jocko loves him a big helping of Young Bradford, and Corey, my list is open to suggestions, please add! I draw the line at Green Day!

Super gray flannel kind of day, cold, rain, sweatshirts and jeans, chicken soup, orange juice, trying to warm up, carrying a steaming hot cup o’ joe, damp, plenty of reading, work etc. but I can’t tear myself away from a web scramble with the ‘Yeah Yeah Yeah’s’ as they dropkick me over the desk with their xtra special ‘Miles Away’ Mp3. Their proto-punk sound always makes me flip my lid and grind my teeth. Slicing the time pie, I placed my order for the Res-Fest DVD, now in it’s 6th year, the festival showcases the year’s best shorts, features, music videos and animation in an environment that combine screenings, live music events, parties, and intimate conversations with visionary filmmakers. Director Michael Moore’s scathing ummmm…‘documentary’, is this the right term? ‘Bowling For Columbine’ opens this week, very anxious to check out his latest, Marilyn Manson and George W. Bush star as themselves. Moore staged a hilarious brou ha ha on Crossfire the other night. I’m wacky, I’m french it works for Yomgaille.com, and it should work for you too, with plenty of fun audio-interfaces and wacky web noodlings.

The W.W.E. dabbled in the debacle of a gay storyline, pro-wrestler, Eric Priest better known as ‘The Underwear Model’ works a gay angle… The Epitome of Masculinity?! Or why…. this idea is hyper-homo!

Ah, life is becoming one giant ‘Zagat Survey’ and I’m down with the blueplate Businessman’s Special. Sheeesh, who’da thunk Devo would be creating McDonald’s commercials?! TOKION USA serves up spud boy Mark Mothersbaugh on ‘McGriddles’, and a nice laid back dubby ‘afterwork set’ by Smith and Mighty on Tokion Radio. The NYPost is a special brand of newspaper, they never overuse the term ‘preggers’, but why is Sandra Bernhard’s trip to the movies a story; Check the pic of the perplexed actress. I must take issue with Adam Buckman’s commentary of this season’s Sopranos, it’s still entertaining, so FAHGETTABOUTIT!

The New York Times�s decision to print same-sex union announcements has turned the issue into a priority, striving to be fair and religious conservatives striving to keep gays invisible.

Jockohomo’s ode to Proustophobes…
And at once the vicissitudes of life had become indifferent to me, its disasters innocuous, its brevity illusory � this new sensation having had the effect, which love has, of filling me with a precious essence; or rather this essence was not in me, it was me.

‘Homosexuality is God’s way of insuring that the truly gifted aren�t burdened with children…

That fun loving Latin playboy Senor Coconut lets all hell break loose with Electrolatino, a super sweaty blippin and bumpin dance number that will have you shakin’ your maracas all over the place. Aye Papi!

Destiny’s Chile song ‘Independent Woman‘ gets the ‘Kitty’ makeover, sure to push any sane person over the edge. Sad to see Blackalicious Blacksploitation star Teresa Graves star of the 1970s cop show ‘Get Christy Love’ pass, I suppose Policewoman Pepper will have to go at it alone. ‘Elvis Has Left The Building’ coiner dies at 86, (Thanks Jaime!) When oh when is Jimbo going to post those gratuitous beefcake shots from The Transporter? I indeed love Anaheim Angels star Troy Glaus, at 6’5″ and 245 pounds, that’s a mighty tall drink rounding out third base.

I was going to place a small blurb about surfing porn, muscle sites, tattoos, butts, boners, naked hockey players, jock straps, crew cuts, college wrestlers, stalked dc rugby boys with an international following, hot man to man sex and guerilla workouts, ode to the word butch or butchies as it were, cock rings, punk rock, facial hair, daddies, boys, twins, tequila, the film transporter, 6 pac abs, electroclash, baseball size biceps, blueballs, trance, disco, poppers, afro-sheen, love hangovers, weblogs, designers, salsa, urban awareness, ghetto fabulous, Frank Stella, Space Invaders, skateboard injuries, camouflage, new wave, film noir, rimming, leather, zeus studios, sculpture, Paris, super-butch, Marines, boots, the term fox, the term muscle-god, the term grease monkey, bling bling, L.L.Cool J, Kanga Hats, painting, painting, the death of painting, long live television, neon, weights, Sylvia Plath, the color red, why some things are just so damn funny i.e. The New Zealand Symphony sent out 8000 promotional CDs to market its new season. But when recipients of the discs put them into computers to play, they discovered that someone had substituted the track titles with pornographic descriptions of sex acts! Day-Pop, muscle boys, muscle daddies, s&m, tit, lit, wit, fags who have snits, hello magazine, peircings, lube, lube-job, hand-job, Faye Dunaway, Eyes of Laura Mars, Popeye not as hot as Brutus. Xy Magazine, Breakfast at Tiffany’s, MP3s and so much more, but it just isn’t coming together today.

Longing for compelling and irreverent commentary? ‘Professor Barnhardts’s Journal‘ serves up the goods. Every first Tuesday of the month, there will be a “theme” issue. A bunch of writers will be asked a thought provoking and perplexing question, such as “Why I Write,” “What’s Your Favorite Movie,” etc. The other Tuesdays of the month there will be one new article published. Perhaps an interview, a piece of short fiction, or an e-mail exchange between two writers on a particular topic. Unpredictable, you say? That’s what they’re aiming for. So far Mike Nelson of MST3K whips out “…” (Or, My Devastating Short Story) and a bevy of writers pull off, ‘Why I Write’. Note to self check out Marty Beckerman’s Brain to Penis.

2. Copyright and Trademark Rights. The Illegal Art: Freedom of Expression in the Corporate Age Website is owned by its authors (“the Elks Clubs of America”) and its suppliers. Its structure, organization, and code are the valuable trade secrets of the Freemasons, probably. The Website is also protected by United States Copyright Law and a group of big, scary goons who will happily beat you until you’re ejecting teeth like a winning slot machine. Use of any trademark does not give you any rights of ownership in that trademark, jackass. Except as stated above, this Agreement does not grant you any intellectual property rights in the Website. Got it, fucko? I can tell my favorite NY Lawyer is grinning, you know who you are…blah blah blah and more on copyright extensions.

A huge selection of original, restored and new kitsch from Vintage Vending. (Diner, Lounge Tiki, Signage etc. etc. etc!)

I was very much in love with someone that year, back then I was very very young, rather idealistic and somewhat reckless. Every morning we would have breakfast at the Munson Diner before heading over to The School of Visual Arts. Upstairs where they had the little studios for the graduate students, we would hang out in the lounge at the end of the hallway. That cool chick from Spain. the one with the fancy cigarettes you liked so much, remember? She was always ‘going on’ about boys, how boys influenced her, hell, I agreed, thinking yes! that’s my whole center of influence! Later on I remember thinking…oh Beuys! Yeah, he’s good too and Laughing at the headline, Museum Scores Beuys.

DO-IT @ E-FLUX an online instructional art exhibit curated by Hans-Ulrich Obrist. Viewers are invited to partcipate by making artists’ work via their online instructional manuals. The exhibit showcases many veterans of conceptual art and some newcomers. Try John Baldessari’s How to Kill a Bug, a slight tweak on the flyswatter, however you need to find a lathargic fly. Execute Chicks on Speed’s FAKE-USA, and rent a billboard to disseminate your project. Photographs of the pieces can then be sent to Obrist, who will post them on the site. Do it is also an online compendium of artists’ writings, essays and interviews. Visit the notes section and read fascinating texts on experimental exhibitions and artworks in the form of instructions. CAUTION: D.I.Y ahead!

Your future dream is a shopping scheme! I wanna be Anarchy! Sing along now, Medicom Toy Company presents the new sneering Sid Vicious punk rock ACTION doll, did you know they make CBGB t-shirts for babies?! They do, I nearly passed out the first time I saw one! Oh and if you were thinking about a Nancy Spungen super groupie action doll, it ain’t gonna happen, but never say never right?! Spreading out bits and pieces, have I mentioned how much I ‘lurv’ my bad boy Chad? I do. Arts and Letters Daily is D.O.A., but the content providers are back editing Philosophy and Literature; arts, ideas, debate, you know the drill. Just for shits and giggles, Arresting Images and Celebrity Mug Shots, from Smoking Gun. The Gun’s crack team of document hounds have compiled a disconcerting collection of cold-busted famous people, icons and assorted nutballs, like Bill Gates, Matthew McConaughey, and Yasmine Bleeth. Don’t worry, no Britney Spears stories except this one.

Razors pain you;
Rivers are damp;
Acids stain you;
And drugs cause cramp.
Guns aren’t lawful;
Nooses give;
Gas smells awful;
You might as well live…’R�sum�’ by lil Miss Dorothy Parker for always wearing a cloche, cutting words with a damn cold scalpel and coming up so terribly funny! Listen to Belle and Sebastian and imagine today, cold, with orange leaves falling, and a generous ohio sky.

I gave myself to sin
And I’ve been there and back again
I gave myself to providence
The State That I Am In
Oh love of mine,
would you condescend to help me because I’m stupid and blind?
Desperation is the Devil’s work, it is the folly of a boys empty mind
Now I’m feeling dangerous, riding on city buses for a hobby is sad
Lead me to a living end, I promised that I’d entertain my crippled friend
…ici le Belle & Sebastian [X]

On my own on Saturday, to stir and mingle anonymously, among the crowds at the art museum. Just for a few moments in the late afternoon when the crowds seem to settle into a languishing rhythmic movement, sliding from one painting to another. Persnickety panicked patrons offended by my long luxurious lingering, upholding the uptight with their upturned artificial aficionado ardor. I study what I love and most of what I love is to study all the people. A Matisse dismissed as ‘busy busy busy’ by a fussbudget fattie, poor Henri, he gets no respect, even in the afterlife! I love to visit all my paintings but have a favorite place, on the bench in front of Sharkey’s, which smells of blood and smoke and turpentine.

The trick is not to mind it, with guys, it isn’t something to talk about, but something to let go. My workout partner hitting the wall and passing out on me, mid set. His cold sweaty forehead slumping into my lap, I’m trying to remember my CPR, he’s breathing and moving in and out of consciousness. Meanwhile the color is draining rapidly from his body like the ghost image on an ink starved photocopy. His eyes roll back in his head, spitting out Gatorade, slumping over, and jerking. I’m wondering if he’s having a seizure, the scene is slow motion, as the paramedics make their way down the stairs to the weight room. Orange juice, questions, blood pressure, ice packs and blood sugar tests, all vitals are in order, all systems are go, as the power switch is thrown and he’s plugged back into the outlet. In a few moments I know my workout partner is alright, he’s being a smart-ass, grinning, sneaking a glimpse at the hot paramedics bum and signing off on his trip to the hospital. The diagnosis was over-exertion, a nearly 300 pound squat for someone only 5’5″. He’s small but mighty, but even mighty has to be mighty vigilante, on occasion.

One thinks of all the hands
That are raising dingy shades
In a thousand furnished rooms…

T.S. Eliot for ease and honesty and forever filling my head with a thousand images that flicker against the ceiling, impatient to assume the world.

I had too much to dream last night, restless, unable to quiet the day, I stared at the ceiling before rolling into a migraine. I kept thinking, no, I worried that I wasn’t going to get enough sleep. Then the satanic routine of checking the clock, kicked in, 5 hours before, no, 4 hours before I had to awaken, 3 hours before, of course with 2 hours to go, I fell fast asleep. I’m usually not such an insomniac, rarely so neurotic, but Thursday is a marathon, and all that wrestling to get some rest was like the pre-game jitters. Yes, I tried my usual, surfing porn and watching reruns, but nothing. 14 hours into my day, I’m really working a caffeine coma! As the day unwinds, I can hear my neighbors arguing, their shouting disintegrates my words and interrupts my typing, reading anything of substance is impossible. Therefore, screw it, I’m going to sit down and read through the Times article on Jesse James, the creator of the much lusted after El-Diablo bike.

According to scientists, This is the World’s Funniest Joke:

A couple of New Jersey hunters are out in the woods when one of them falls to the ground. He doesn’t seem to be breathing, his eyes are rolled back in his head. “The other guy whips out his cell phone and calls the emergency services. He gasps to the operator: ‘My friend is dead! What can I do?’ “The operator, in a calm soothing voice says: ‘Just take it easy. I can help. First, let’s make sure he’s dead.’ “There is a silence, then a shot is heard. The guy’s voice comes back on the line. He says: ‘OK, now what?’”

Due to regional differences, I found the following to be much funnier:
“Texan: ‘Where are you from?’
“Harvard graduate: ‘I come from a place where we do not end our sentences with prepositions.’
“Texan: ‘OK, where are you from, jackass?’”

So…what’s funny globally?

Hot coffee, melty cupcakes, the buzz of fluorescent lighting. I’m sitting in the pea green squeeky swivel office chair, rocking left then right, going over mail. The air conditioning is broken and I’m ready to drip out onto the floor today, so humid. Pushing off from the desktop and around to grab more caffeine, the steam from the hot cup fogs my glasses. I packed that postcard you sent, you know things like big and little share the same name, the two of us, my nickname, who to ask for, that Diner on Clifton, a 37 cent Andy Warhol stamp. Mr. 8 dollars and 83 cents, you know who you are, you’re going to get it!

“I try to make a composition that pushes photography into the realm of painting,” she said. “I love the idea that you can find an amateur snapshot that someone has discarded and make it into a monumental painting.”

When photography is pushed into painting, the hallucinatory pieces of self professed nerd girl Isca Greenfield-Sanders who handily utilizes her MacIntosh to create some beautiful full scale art. Here is a decent explanation of the process and her personal website with more from her catalog of paintings. I like the tension that develops between the generic imagery and the digital process. Unsettling at best.

Speaking of Macs, Wired has an interesting article titled, The Mac That Can’t Be Tweaked, for years we have been tweeking our interface with Kaleidoscope, however with Ye Old Happy Mac killed by the new Jaguar Interface, it seems that any manipulation is now impossible. I have yet to have a go with CandyBar. Has anybody tried this out yet? Perhaps I just wax nostalgic for a MacSE. Hey, not that I want to revisit the past after I read you can scratch with your iPod?! Wiggy Wiggy Wiggy!

Placing the giant size Tide on the kitchen table, I hear a splashing noise, and discover the dog drinks out of the toilet, that is so wretched. Bad dog! Anyway, Billy Blob (That’s Blob not Bob) makes me very happy, watch his short flash film Karma Ghost the cautionary tale of a shiftless hipster who tempts fate in a series of ill-considered lapses of judgment that end very, very badly (check the hep cat sound-track)

SO LET ME HAVE MY FUN
Aldo Palazzeschi from The Arsonist, 1910
——————————————–
Tri tri tri-fru fru fru-ihu uhi uhi!
The poet’s having fun;
he’s mad
and out of control!
But don’t say anything bad,
let him have his fun,
poor soul:
these harmless little tricks
that give him his kicks.
Cucu ruru-ruru cucu-cucucucurucu!
What are these obscenities?
These stanzas, who can read them?
Freedom, freedom,
poetic freedom!
They’re my passion.
Farafarafarafa-tarataratarata
paraparaparapa-laralaralarala!
Do you know what they are?
Avant-garde stuff:
not mere grotesqueries
but the finishing off
of other poetries.
Bubububu-fufufufu-Friu-Friu
It hasn’t a shred
of wit -
so why does he write it,
the block-head?
Bilobilobilobilobilo-blum
Filofilofilofilofilo-flum
Bilolu. Filolu-U.
It isn’t true they have no meaning,
they mean something;
what they mean
as when
one starts to sing
and doesn’t know the words . . .
a very vulgar thing,
and yet it’s to my liking!
Aaaaa! Eeeee! Iiiii! Ooooo!
Uuuuu ! A ! E ! I ! O ! U !
But young man
will you tell me this:
isn’t your act a pose,
to claim with such little justification
you’re going to cause
a conflagration ?
Whish . . . . . whish . . . .
Shoo shoo shoo Koku koku koku
But how is one to understand?
You make pretences that are meant to please,
but all the same they sound like Japanese.
Abi, all, alari,Ririririri! Ri.
Don’t go off on a spree;
it’s better not to be so free.
Your fun will cost you quite a bit,
and you’ll be called an ass for it.
Labala falala falala and even lala.
Lalala lalala!
The risk is certainly great
to write the way you do.
Like guards at every gate
the professors are watching you.
Ahahahahahaha!
Ahahahahahaha!
Ahahahahahaha!
When all is said and done
I�m right, the times have changed,
And men don�t ask a thing
Of poets anymore,
So let me have my fun!

Bigger Harder Faster Stronger, who said Futurism is dead? Not I! Thank goodness funky design isn’t dead either, 70′s Space Age Design makes me very very happy, look Dave, your hand chair?! Photos by Dick Behlau @ the Friday-Box Shop in Cologne.