Radish

"I like popular music. I'm a culture whore who grasps at the invisible fabric that wraps itself around our society, tethering us together with a seemingly intangible connector of similitudes and familiarity."

If this phrase describes you -- and you know that it does, culture whore -- then you need to broaden your tastes a little. Do it before I beat you.

In today's installment of Jack Tells You to Listen to Some Good Shit: Richard Cheese

For the uninformed and ignorant, Richard Cheese is the swingin', singin', lounge king of pop music.

The not-so-subtle lounge-singer alias of writer/actor/comedian/singer Mark Jonathan Davis previously scored a Dr. Demento request favorite with "The Star Wars Cantina." The Los Angeles-based Davis also worked as a jingle singer, and made appearances on NewsRadio, Batman: The Animated Series, and The Late Show with David Letterman. For the Richard Cheese project, Davis assembled a big band and recorded lounge covers of '90s alternative rock hits. The resulting album, Lounge Against the Machine, was released in late 2000.

Whoa, was that totally ripped off of an online biography entry or what?

Richard Cheese currently has three albums out: Lounge Against the Machine, Tuxicity, and I'd Like a Virgin; personal favourites include his versions of "Yellow," "Butterfly," "Baby got Back," "One Step Closer," and "Loser."

I want to be him when I grow up. After I be a fireman, of course.

Posted by Jack Tango at 21:04 | Permalink | Comments

So I received my first ever blog-related complaint, paraphrased here:

"Jack, you disappoint me. You haven't updated your blog in over a week. I'm pulling my hair out with anticipation. Update it soon or I will hurt you. Hugs and kisses."

I, officially, have the weirdest fans ever.

But I digress -- sometimes life gets in the way of one's ability to update his Secret Online Journal of All Things Mundane and Sublime; I cannot promise that I will always be available to unleash a flurry of updates upon my readers (all 6 of them), but I will endeavour to do so whenever possible. It is with heavy heart, and humble hand, that I extend myself upon your mercy in this act of apology.

Now that I've gotten that out of the way, it's time for the important part:

People I Know Who Have Nice Butts

• The sweet, superhot girlfriend
• The girl I work with who made the complaint
• The girl that works at Moores who was hitting on me
• The girl I work with who dated my friend
• The girl who works in the hotel, but not in my department
• Hell, an entire group of girls that work in my immediate vicinity
  
• My buddy's girlfriend
• The girl who works at my parents' bar
• Actually, both of them
• The girl who used to work for me, but is now a real estate agent
• A girl I used to date
• That girl I used to go to school with
• The Local Gentleman's Club Featured Act for December 18th, 2004
  

I'm sure there's more, but time is not my friend right now! Be sure to post your Favourite Bums in the comments section, and always keep your eye on the prize!*

*"The Prize" being a sweet, curvy heiney. Mmm. Baby got back!

Posted by Jack Tango at 20:43 | Permalink | Comments

Okay, so now that you know how I feel about comic books, it may surprise you to learn that I do not feel the same way about comic book related memorabilia. I've never been interested in spending way too much money on things that don't offer the same type of enjoyment with the product they're associated with.

Until this:

Posted by Jack Tango at 14:34 | Permalink | Comments

I alluded to this in a previous post, but I'm forced to ask this question again. I turn to you, my dutiful blogdience, to answer my query. But first, a bit of set-up:

I read comic books. It's exactly what you're thinking. The ones with the super-heroes, who fly, bend steel with their hands, change the course of mighty rivers, and fight giant apes all the time. Those books.

I could go into the non-super-heroic books that exist, but that would likely only confuse you.

Reading comic books in today's society is considered "abnormal," an aberration of proper hobbies and pastimes. If an individual over the age of 7 reads comic books, then there's only one of two explanations:

1) They have serious problems.

2) They avid collectors, speculating on a market that will someday make them rich.

Since I'm 26 years old, it would appear that the latter is the case. This results in the same line of questioning every single time I'm seen reading comic books:

Random Person: Hey, comic books!

Me: (Reading, not looking up) Yeah.

RP: Man, are those worth anything?

Me: (Still reading, still not looking up) I don't think so.

RP: How much do those things cost anyway?

Me: (Flip back to cover) This one costs $3.50

RP: $3.50?! Wow. I remember when they were [Insert Low Price Relative to Age of Random Person that Simultaneously Informs me that I'm Paying Way too Much and How Things Were Better Way-Back-When]. Wow.

Me: Yeah. (Back to reading)

RP: Oh, man, do you collect them?

Me: (Rolling eyes, getting frustrated, distracted from book) No, I read them.

RP: I used to collect comics. I have a copy of [Insert Stupid Title Nobody Cares About] #1 at home. Mint condition.

Me: (Stopped reading, trying to calm self down to stop self from killing individual) Great.

RP: Oh, yeah. How much do you think it's worth?

Me: (Finally look at person) Not much, probably. There's, like, 5 million copies of it out there. They're not really worth that much when there's--

RP: --Some guy told me that it was worth at least $50.

Me: Maybe it is. I don't know. I read them.

Random Person: Oh. Well. That's cool.

Me: (Back to reading) Yeah. Cool.

It bothers me. Very much. Why is it considered wrong to read comic books? They're no worse than any other form of disposable entertainment. Magazines routinely offer complete fluff, seventy-five times the advertising, and no general redeeming value.

At least comic books are an art form; a melding of words and pictures to craft a story in a unique way otherwise unattempted in any other media. And I like to read them.

Sure, I like Superman. Correction: I love Superman. I read other books, though. Stuff that people would actually be entertained by or -- gasp -- even challenged mentally. There are a copious number of books that can reflect the tastes of any individual, and they're all out there for people to read.

Yes, read them. Try it. You might be surprised.

Posted by Jack Tango at 13:36 | Permalink | Comments

So I just found out that my manager will be soon leaving our company. If the opportunity arises that her position is open for any to apply, I will do so. I would very much like to own a house and actually be somewhat of an adult. I need to take the time to reconstruct my resume and apply a strong focus toward this new position.

I have some minor fears: What the hell will I be doing? and Whoa, dude, accountability is pretty high in this position, and this company is fairly crazy in their hiring/firing policies.

"Good morning, Smith."

"Good morning, Sir."

"Smith, I need you to finish up that report for me today."

"Will do, sir."

"Oh, and Smith, I just decided, you're fired."

"..."

"Sir?"

"Yes?"

"Do you still want the report?"

"Of course. You still work here."

"I thought I was fired."

"Oh, that. I changed my mind."

It's not that I don't trust them -- because I do. I trust them to make some frighteningly ridiculous decisions. Still, the position would be a huge step upward, and would only help any other short-term goals I have (read: make money). It's a risk that I have to take. Something that I choose --

Choose Life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family. Choose a fucking big television, choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players and electrical tin openers. Choose good health, low cholesterol, and dental insurance. Choose fixed interest mortage repayments. Choose a starter home. Choose your friends. Choose leisurewear and matching luggage. Choose a three-piece suite on hire purchase in a range of fucking fabrics. Choose DIY and wondering who the fuck you are on a Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing, spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pishing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked up brats you spawned to replace yourself. Choose your future. Choose life.

--Whoa! What the frick?! Where the hell did that come from? Man, that's semi-enlightening, but also kinda depressing. They had me right up until the end. That crazy Ewan McGregor. *Sigh* He's so dreamy.

Posted by Jack Tango at 18:26 | Permalink | Comments

I've been watching an awful lot of movies lately. This is because my girlfriend enjoys watching movies. I am discovering more and more how simple her tastes are, and how wonderful it will be to not have to go overboard exiting her every single day. She is the type of person where the little things truly will count.

Anyway, back on topic.

In the last little while, I have watched (in no particular order): Garden State, Shaun of the Dead, White Noise, The Darkness, Closer, In Good Company, The Village, The Ladykillers, Moulin Rouge and Some Other Movies That I Can't Remember.

Today, I will discuss Garden State: It stars Zach "Scrubs" Braff and Natalie "Star Wars Crapfest" Portman. In it, Scrubsboy is an aspiring actor who is constantly depressed. He goes home because his parapalegic mother (his fault) died. He talks with his dad, Ian "Lord of the Rings and a Billion Other Movies" Holm, meets up with Padme, and learns how to live again.

Now, despite the inclusion of the fine Ian Holm (man, I like everything this dude is in), this was actually Not a Very Good Movie. Surprisingly, I enjoyed it, due to it's quirky aspects no doubt, but it felt very much like Some Guy's Idea of How An Independent Movie Should Be.

BONUS SECTION

How to Make an Independent Film

• Take one (1) Disillusioned Gen-X-er
  
• Mix liberally with one (1) Boring Society
  
• Sprinkle lightly with Friends*, Family*, and Familiarity
  
• Add one (1) Pseudo-Deep Realization
  
• Pour over Quirky Female Lead
  
• Pre-heat movie to 100 minutes
  
• Coat film with Independent Songs that No One Else Has Heard.
  

Cannes Film Fest, here I come!

Posted by Jack Tango at 18:08 | Permalink | Comments