Friday, December 16, 2005

Places to go, Blogs to read

The good news is I'm finally getting a whole weekend off so I will not be updating 'til next week. The bad news is I have to do all the housecleaning that fell by the wayside when I was working weekends.

It will be a intensive procedure, made even more dangerous with the addition of explosives and sandblasters. And alcohol.

Meanwhile, here are some interesting sites/blogs to visit:

Tumor girl (the operation is happening even as we speak!)
Angelina Jolie Worship/Celebrity snark
Pandagon
Democratic Underground

Ciao.

Monday, December 12, 2005

Shiny nails need not apply!

(Bump--Greetings to all HuffPo visitors)

The Toby Keith/Ford Truck campaign seems to be winding down. Finally.

In the beginning, I tuned them out as I do most car ads, since I don’t own a car or plan on purchasing a new one in the future. When I do buy one, it’s going to be constructed of armor-grade steel all the way around, like a Plymouth Fury Hooptie Deluxe. Something that could stand a chance, perhaps even coming out on top, in a Hummer collision.



For those of you that are not familiar with the TK Truck campaign, allow me to enlighten you:

There are three versions, and they all begin with TK in a concert situation. He’s playing his “I’m a Ford truck man/Built Ford Tough” song, when he raises his hand to his earpiece, listens, then stops the music. Then he says, “Any of yew own a Ford Truck? Yuh left yer lights on!” There’s a mighty stampede to the exits, presumably because everyone at the concert came in a Ford truck, and conceivably may have left their lights on.

One version shows a pan shot of an arena with empty seats, and TK says, “Wuhl, I’ll just wait ‘til yew guys get back!” OK, that works.

Another version shows the arena empty, except for two guys sitting next to each other holding cokes and popcorn, and TK says, “Yew knuckleheads gonna need a ride?” Doesn’t really work for me—did the guys get a ride to the concert? From their mom? Did they drive a Chevy truck? Were they driving **gasp** a Prius?

The third version shows the two guys with their popcorn and cokes, but also holding a sign saying “We ♥ Toby!” TK says, “Wuhl, Ford trucks separates the men from the boys!”

What does that mean? Allow me to deconstruct.

Taking the sign into consideration, it seems what he’s really saying, is that Ford truck ownership separates the men from the FAGS!

Straight men wouldn’t carry a sign saying “We ♥ Toby!”

Which brings me to discuss a radio ad for Ford trucks I heard last week during a country Top-40 countdown, done in the same format as Casey Kasem’s American Top 40.

(Note: I don’t listen to top-40 country music by choice, but one of my co-workers does. In the spirit of diversity and fairness, the people in my department tolerate each other’s music choices in rotation. Good thing too, because two of the popular country songs that are out now really annoy the shit out of me—“I’m a double XL” and that Brooks and Dunn song that says, “OOOOOOooooohooooooo, play somethin’ country!” Sometimes it’s all I can do to not throw the radio across the room when those songs come on. My payback is digging out my battered cassette of Adam and The Ants “Kings Of The Wild Frontier and playing “Beat My Guest.” I like old country, if you MUST hold a gun to my head and make me choose. Patsy Cline rules!)

They aired a commercial discussing manicures. As in “Why do they call them MANicures? If yew got shiny nails, yew got no bizness driving a Ford pick-up” This is verbatim, but nutshelled.

Does this leave out all the lesbians whose girlfriends do their nails for them, but drive a big black butch truck? Oh yeah—lesbians drive Outbacks.

©2005 House of Mayhem

Saturday, December 10, 2005

In Praise of Blondie

I’m listening to Blondie “Live.” Debbie sounds a little tired.

She has been doing this for over 20 years.

It’s OK if she can’t hit all those high notes now—neither can I.

"Atomic" is one of the best rock and roll songs ever.

©House of Mayhem 2005

Cat Theory


I have two cats, the brother and sister comedy team of Kiko and Neo.

Neo is the girl, so named because she was first out of the chute, and we were watching “The Matrix” on a loop when she was born. She is an attractive tortie, her face is half yellow and half black. She is the more vocal of the two, especially when she can see a dime-sized area of the bottom of her food bowl empty.

No matter that there’s food all around that dime-sized spot—as far as she’s concerned, “the bowl’s empty, so FILL IT!” She will stand on the arm of the chair, and MEOW as I walk by, expressing her displeasure with the food bowl situation.

She has the extremely cute habit of flopping down on the floor and twisting her head around at the slightest provocation. I think there’s a future in cat food commercials for her.

Kiko is a black male, with three kinks in his tail. He is the strong, silent type; his mouth barely opens when he does decide that the conversation is worth putting his two cents in.

His cat food commercial tricks are that he will retrieve a foil ball when thrown (a trick he taught me) and that, when he’s really feeling lovey-dovey, he’ll rear up on his back legs and touch his front paws on my leg.

All I need is a blue screen, and a video camera, and those cats are gonna make me some money.

My roommate has complained that “whenever I go to the bathroom, Neo just HAS to come in and rub up against me! She sits here until I’m done! She bugs!”

I formulated a theory on the spot, (making it up as I went along,) but it seemed to make sense:

I told her that lions are the only felines that live in a group. All other cats are solitary hunters, unless it’s a female with cubs.

I said that, since Neo and Kiko live together, Neo has taken the part of the “lioness” of our “pride,” and we are her “cubs.” She’s does bug patrol, killing spiders, etc., and if she comes into the bathroom when we are showering or peeing, it’s because, in that situation, we are vulnerable to predators, and she’s protecting us.

Hey—pretty good, huh? But who knows what cats think? Maybe Neo just likes to be in the bathroom when someone is in there, for lack of anything better to do. I don’t let them out into the great big world because I live right next to the VERY BUSY intersection of Juan Tabo and Candelaria, where cats can be squished by big plastic cars that will feel no regret.

I know they like Steely Dan and Mozart, chill out to Blondie’s “Atomic,” and hate Kraftwerk. They like shows with bugs and birds, and they are fascinated by the movie “Hedwig and The Angry Inch.”

They like it when I do karaoke—“On The Radio” and “Born to Run” are their favorites.

Cats. Heh.

Adios, Mitch

“If I’m going to live in a Third-World country, I’m going where the weather is better.”

L.M. Powell

So spoke Mitch Powell immediately following the 2004 U.S. Presidential election. Mitch hails from Oaxaca, in a country where government corruption is accepted as an inescapable fact, like gravity.

And 17 different parties have candidates in the Presidential Election. Thus, if you get 23% of the vote, you’re kicking ass and you get to be the next president.

I met Mitch when he was Michelle. He is now a work-in-progress, a “transman.”

Hormones are changing his body; I teased him good-naturedly when his voice cracked during the early stages of his hormone therapy. He said, “It sucks that I’m 26 years old, and I have to go through puberty--again.”

When he came out to me about his decision to change his gender, the first thing I said was:

“So, does this mean you’ll be a lesbian trapped in a man’s body?”

In the beginning, it took some time to remember to switch pronouns when talking to him, but he took it in stride, constructing a little penalty box—if you messed up and used the wrong pronoun, you had to pay him a quarter. It kept him in Pop-Tarts for a month or two, until we got used to it.

Mitch and I went to the same art school here in Albuquerque; I graduated right before he started. I have seen his phenomenal talent exhibited in many different ways—cartoonist, illustrator, graphic designer, and webmaster of High Desert Web.

In addition, he has been very active in local and national GLBT causes, especially in youth programs, and volunteering time and talent to related activities.

Mitch, I send you nothing but good thoughts to you on both of your journeys, and I hope to someday drink a beer with you, enjoying the warm breezes of Oaxaca.

My country will be an emptier place without you.

©House of Mayhem 2005

Wednesday, December 07, 2005

My Little Town

Simon and Garfunkel teamed up for one last hurrah in 1980, releasing the masterpiece “My Little Town.” I must admit, at the time (high school,) I thought it was overplayed and overrated.

Now that I’ve grown up, and own the double CD set of “Simon and Garfunkel’s Greatest Hits,” I can appreciate that song a whole lot more now, among the other songs, but “El Condor Pasa” still sucks—“I’d rather be a hanky than a snot/Yes I would…”

My Little Town

In my little town

I grew up believing

God keeps his eye on us all.

And he used to lean upon me

As I pledged allegiance

To the wall.

Coming home after school

Flying my bike past the gates

Of the factories…

My mom doing laundry

Hanging our shirts in the dirty breeze.

And after it rains

There’s a rainbow—

But all of the colors are black.

It’s not that the colors aren’t there

It’s just imagination they lack.

Everything’s the same back

In my little town.

Nothing but the dead and dying

Back in my little town.

Nothing but the dead and dying

Back in my little town.

In my little town

I never meant nothing

I was just my father’s son.

Saving my money,

Dreaming of glory,

Twitching like a finger

On the trigger of a gun.

Leaving nothing but the dead and dying

Back in my little town…

If the lyrics to that song were found in some troubled kid’s notebook now, all hell would break loose.

The kid would be suspended from school.

He’d have to go through counseling to find out what he had against his parents, the Pledge of Allegiance, factories (and by association, good God-fearing blue collar workers,) God, his finger twitching on the trigger of a gun, and why there was “nothing but the dead and dying back in my little town.”

20/20 would probably interview him.

©House of Mayhem 2005

Tuesday, December 06, 2005

Shiny nails need not apply

(Bump--Greetings to all HuffPo visitors)

The Toby Keith/Ford Truck campaign seems to be winding down. Finally.

In the beginning, I tuned them out as I do most car ads, since I don’t own a car or plan on purchasing a new one in the future. When I do buy one, it’s going to be constructed of armor-grade steel all the way around, like a Plymouth Fury Hooptie Deluxe. Something that could stand a chance, perhaps even coming out on top, in a Hummer collision.



For those of you that are not familiar with the TK Truck campaign, allow me to enlighten you:

There are three versions, and they all begin with TK in a concert situation. He’s playing his “I’m a Ford truck man/Built Ford Tough” song, when he raises his hand to his earpiece, listens, then stops the music. Then he says, “Any of yew own a Ford Truck? Yuh left yer lights on!” There’s a mighty stampede to the exits, presumably because everyone at the concert came in a Ford truck, and conceivably may have left their lights on.

One version shows a pan shot of an arena with empty seats, and TK says, “Wuhl, I’ll just wait ‘til yew guys get back!” OK, that works.

Another version shows the arena empty, except for two guys sitting next to each other holding cokes and popcorn, and TK says, “Yew knuckleheads gonna need a ride?” Doesn’t really work for me—did the guys get a ride to the concert? From their mom? Did they drive a Chevy truck? Were they driving **gasp** a Prius?

The third version shows the two guys with their popcorn and cokes, but also holding a sign saying “We ♥ Toby!” TK says, “Wuhl, Ford trucks separates the men from the boys!”

What does that mean? Allow me to deconstruct.

Taking the sign into consideration, it seems what he’s really saying, is that Ford truck ownership separates the men from the FAGS!

Straight men wouldn’t carry a sign saying “We ♥ Toby!”

Which brings me to discuss a radio ad for Ford trucks I heard last week during a country Top-40 countdown, done in the same format as Casey Kasem’s American Top 40.

(Note: I don’t listen to top-40 country music by choice, but one of my co-workers does. In the spirit of diversity and fairness, the people in my department tolerate each other’s music choices in rotation. Good thing too, because two of the popular country songs that are out now really annoy the shit out of me—“I’m a double XL” and that Brooks and Dunn song that says, “OOOOOOooooohooooooo, play somethin’ country!” Sometimes it’s all I can do to not throw the radio across the room when those songs come on. My payback is digging out my battered cassette of Adam and The Ants “Kings Of The Wild Frontier and playing “Beat My Guest.” I like old country, if you MUST hold a gun to my head and make me choose. Patsy Cline rules!)

They aired a commercial discussing manicures. As in “Why do they call them MANicures? If yew got shiny nails, yew got no bizness driving a Ford pick-up” This is verbatim, but nutshelled.

Does this leave out all the lesbians whose girlfriends do their nails for them, but drive a big black butch truck? Oh yeah—lesbians drive Outbacks.

©2005 House of Mayhem

Monday, December 05, 2005

Newbie alert

I’m a newbie at this blogging thing. I’ve been reading blogs since 2000, after the first stolen election, catching the most popular progressive blogs in their infancy and seeing which ones survived over the past five years.

I realize I’m in a saturated environment. I will have to compete with serious blogs, as well as teenage dilettantes who write about their cliques and who has the hottest butt in their high school.

I plan to include my sketches and editorial cartoons, media commentary, random musings, rants at no extra charge, and photos.

I will try to update daily. Forgive me if I don’t.

I hope that my friends, old and new, will bear with me in my journey into the blogosphere.

Comments and suggestions are always welcome. Unless you’re being a butthead. Then you can take your little troll self back to the red side of the Net where you belong.

Sunday, December 04, 2005

First Blog Post

This will be my first post. I am a 43 yo lesbian. I write, draw, and read. I have two cats--a brother and sister comedy team. I live in Albuquerque NM.