September 2005 Archives

Yes, that's the title today. And look inside your heart, you know it to be true. There is nothing so wondrous, so magical, so hilarious in a vengeful spiteful kind of way than a Roger Ebert Bad Review. When The Ebert hates a movie, he lets you know -- and manages to say things about it that almost, ALMOST make you want to see it just because nothing can be THAT bad.

When I read a particularly mean one, I always bookmark it into my "The Ebert Is Bad Ass" bookmark folder in Firefox. This way, when I'm feeling sad or depressed, I can go read them again and be guaranteed to laugh and feel better about myself.

He's had some doozies. Like the Deuce Bigalow 2 review. Ouch.

Turns out John was there when the CD was "stolen" from me and played for the world to hear. Dammit. And here I thought no one remembered that show, or worse yet, remembered hearing any of it. But on the bright side, maybe it wasn't as bad as I remember it...

Dammit. He remembers everything, that guy. See, that mix tape thing was just me being bored and taking a microphone and trying, in secret, to reprise my role. Except I couldn't stop laughing at myself when I'd listen to it. I'm such a dork sometimes. Wait, wait, no I'm Awesome. I'm Awesome!

You bet.

Another blog project that I'm involved with is considering producing regular podcasts for its readers, in which news and topical discussions of graphic design issues would be presented. Podcasts, if you're just an absolute piece of wood and don't know, are like radio programs distributed in MP3 format for playback on iPods -- hence the name Podcast. Its probably short for iPod Broadcast, or something, but I'm not sure about that.

The two guys who started that blog and turned it into one of the four or five best design blogs online are, quite frankly, two of the quietest people in the history of the world. Put them in front of a keyboard, and they're flamboyant like Chef Boyardee on a can of Spaghettios. Put them on a radio show, like their guest appearance as panelists on "Design Matters" a month ago, and they're soft-spoken, shy and quiet. So if a podcast from that website is going to happen, they would have to be behind the scenes while someone else gets behind the mic. Luckily, there's some other authors on the site who are outgoing enough and have strong voices -- verbally, not just typographically -- to host the podcast. The tentative plan has Cliff hosting it, because it was his idea and he's the one pushing for it to happen. If he ever gets tired of hosting it, there's another author on that site who would kick ass and take no prisoners...

Namely, me. You bet. I've even got experience on radio, believe it or not. Pisses me off I didn't think of this podcast idea. I'd like to be on that thing. But alas.

Friday, AIGA Nebraska hosted an Adobe InDesign training seminar all-day. Among other things, I left pissed off because I'm stuck using Quark at work. We just have way too many Quark files that won't open in InDesign to change programs; we don't have enough help or time to do the work we already have to do without having to convert files every time we open a file -- and deal with the resulting text reflow issues and stuff. Sucks to be me.

Somewhere at the seminar, an evil evil person (or a good person who simply had an evil, evil moment) coated my AIGA nametag in permanent ink, and then put it back on top of my papers. Not realizing this, when I picked it up at the end of the day, I got ink all over me. I'd walked all the way to The Colorado before realizing it -- I looked down and noticed that several of my fingers were black. There were spots on my dress shirt. I was steamed.

I don't know who did it, I don't know what I did to deserve it, but it was not cool.

One of the things we did while we were in Minneapolis was tour a design studio where two of Cliff's college buddies work. During this late night tour in between dinner and the bars, I noticed something peculiar on the shelves above one of the dude's desk. A smallish-poster of Lando Calrissian, his blaster guns replaced with cans of Colt 45. (Remember Billy Dee's "Works Every Time" commercials for the Colt in the 80s?)

You'd think this simple act of Photoshop would be great on its own, and it was. (Why didn't I think of that? So many questions.) But what really floored me was the caption.

"William Dee Williams".

As observant as I am, and as much as I love those old Colt 45 spots, and despite Lando being my favorite Star Wars character, it never once occurred to me that his given name could actually be William Williams. Bill or Billy is short for William, so it makes sense that his name would be William Williams. Why had this never occurred to me? I was steamed.

But the more I thought about it, the more it continued to crack me up. Just the sound of it is so utterly ridiculous, and that makes it the badassiest name ever. I was on the elevator in the hotel by myself Sunday morning, and it popped into my head, and I started laughing. The older couple standing there with me were disturbed. Although, to be fair, seeing a young man in an Italian Stallion t-shirt laughing to himself early in the morning could feasibly be construed as disturbing.

I don't trust anyone who doesn't like pizza. Its the perfect food -- you've got dairy, you've got meat, you've got vegetables, you've got bread. Plus you really can't screw it up. Some people would argue Godfather's can; I would argue Godfather's is damn tasty and tell you all pizza is good pizza. Perfection. Heaven on crust. You bet.

So if you don't like pizza, you don't like food, is what I'm saying. And if you don't like food, you cannot be trusted because clearly you are an alien or some other Less-Than-Human-Human-Type. And we all know what LTHHT's do. They eventually act like Libyan terrorists and hop into a Volkswagen Autobus, chase you to the Twin Pines mall at 1:15 am and take you out with a missile launcher.

We got back into town late last night, and I hope to have a chance later in the week to tell some of the stories from the weekend that are appropriate to tell here (if, ahem, a certain someone can get Dick's camera back to him.) Not to be obvious who it is that's keeping all of us from seeing many of the great photos from Minneapolis, but its this guy.

Passed out from drinking less than a six-pack, but strangely enough his kung-fu grip on the remote was intact. How funny is that? I was laughing until I remembered that he'd just turned to "Happy Days" before he passed out, leaving us to watch Fonz and all those other crazy cats on the Happy Days. Bastard. Incidentally, I'll be running this photo every day until he gives Dick's camera back so the photos can be downloaded and dissimilated to all of us. You've been warned.

(Ah, the power I wield on this site!)

--

A pirate walks into a bar. The bartender asks him why he's got a parrot on his shoulder.

"I be a pirate!" he replies.

"Well, if you're a pirate, where are your buccaneers?" asked the bartender. The pirate replies "Yarr!  They're underneath me buckin' hat!"

You bet. Arrrrr!

We're leaving for Minneapolis in a few, so I'll make this brief today. I'm not in the best mood, which needs to change pronto because my friends and I will be driving a long time in The Colorado today. But you sit through what I did last night (sitting next to an "ex" for two hours at a social gathering; discovering the "next" is going to be a "never") and we'll see how you feel in the morning. Sometimes I think trying to meet girls is impossible. I guess its a good thing for me that today is the start of "Guys Weekend 05", held out of state for the first time. That's why it makes total sense that I'm wearing a shirt that has...

01 on it. Not for 2001, mind you, but bright orange with the Dukes of Hazzard block numbers 01. Totally makes sense, since its 2005. Whoa, used "sense" and "since" back to back, separated only by a comma. Someone make sure comma stays between those two, there's bad blood there. Good stuff. 

But here's how fantastic yesterday was, even forgetting about the girl trouble. This shirt was brand new, right, and so I was washing it before I wore it today. I totally forgot to take the sticker with "L" on it indicating the size. Who knew those things were so sticky?

Mr. T is my man, always has been. People always ask me why I'm fasciCliffd, nay, idolize, the Man with the Mohawk. Its really quite simple, actually.

I was born in 1978, in a small town in Iowa, which made me 6 years old and in a city where I nothing else to do but watch The A-Team on NBC Friday nights. For an impressionable kindergartner, Mr. T was simply the baddest man on the planet. Bad in a 1987 Michael Jackson kind of way, which is good. I shared an initial with Mr. T, which in my six-year-old mind, made me cool like T. My brother and I had all the A-Team gear; I had an A-team lunchbox and everything. I can remember the day my Mr. T action figure beat up my Mr. Miyagi action figure like it was yesterday. So vivid, the memories of the punch and head-butt that whupped the karate chop arm action from Miyagi.

Mainstream media have always poked fun at Mr. T. I read an article about his new show, purporting to be straight news, yesterday that said, and I quote, "Mr. T, the star of the critically panned 'A-Team' television series of the early '80s and little else since, is strangely held in high regard and even beloved by males 25-32."

So there's something strange with liking Mr. T? I'm 27, putting me smack dab in the middle of that age group. We grew up with Mr. T, and kids younger than us don't get it -- nor do people older than us. We get it. Mr. T was then and always will be the baddest man on the planet, and if you don't get that, than I pity you, fool.

So I'm sitting at the McDonald's drive-thru yesterday. Quarter Pounder meal, plain just the cheese on the burger, Diet Coke. Get to the window, and the total is $4.07. I have four dollars in the ol' wallet. No change in the change compartment of The Colorado. Drats!

I described my dilemma to the nice lady at the window, and she graciously told me not to worry about the 7 cents. It was probably easier to pay the 7 cents herself than void out the transaction or waste the food. But still, a nice gesture.

However, then she asked me if I wanted to add a dollar to my total to doCliff to Hurricane Relief. I certainly would, I told her, if I wasn't plumb out of dollars as I had indicated previously. Weird, why would you ask me that when you know I had no dollars?

Not sure where that was going. So probably time to go. You bet.

Yesterday I got really upset and tore the arm off of my desk chair.

My chair is an amputee!

Whoa, that was supposed to be another photo. Not sure what happened, but that was so funny in its doubleness when I checked the post after publishing, I'm-a-gonna-leave it-a-bea. Be. You bet. So like I was saying, My chair is an amputee!

My buddy Continental sent me an email, telling of a tragic trio of musical travesty:

Ouch indeed, Continental. Hey kids, rock n roll, rock on, ooh that's it. Hey, kids, movie star, Jimmy Dean. (James Dean) Rock on.

Rock on.

And I haven't even mentioned KLF. What can one say about the acronym'd band that hasn't already been said tens of times by people like Casey Kasem and later Shadoe Stevens? Right. Moving on....

My buddy John, while in Los Angeles on business, was cruising around the boulevards and, um, drives, and avenues and things, in the company Mercedes and, well, I'll let him tell you. He's a lot more succinct than me.

Holy I-aint-gettin-on-no-plane-sukka, Batman! Now, its not that I didn't believe John initially -- could you blame me if I didn't though? -- but this seemed so unbelievable, I just had to do some research. I called up my crack research team Keyboard and Mouse, and together we attempted to get to the bottom of this. And...

Its true. Only its not a talk show, its something much much better -- a self-help show where Mr. T gives real people advice on both personal and professional problems.

Oh. My. God. Mr. T as a motivational guru! Using his own personal experiences as a basis for forming a philosophy of helping people! To paraphrase Ron Burgundy of Channel 4 News in San Diego, Mr. T will be like a giant Buddha, covered in gold chains.

Sal Maniaci, head of development for TV Land, told Zap2It.com, "We are very excited to work with Mr. T and Lions Gate on 'I Pity The Fool'. By putting Mr. T in an unfamiliar environment, viewers will have the experience of seeing him back up his famous words and attitude with concrete actions."

I think it goes without saying that when helping these guests sort out their travails, no jibba jabba will be allowed.

Saturday, I spent the entire day in our annual AIGA Board Retreat, where our year-end audit, coming year planning, and other argument-sparking discussions took place. Since I'm prohibited from discussing any of this stuff publicly, we'll pick up our weekend recap at T. Michael's, where Dick and I went for a pitcher after the meeting ended.

Before we left the gallery on Saturday night, Bennett and his wife Suzanne told me they had a present for me. I was completely unprepared for what awaited me:

There's a picture of me and Glypha workin' the bar at the 365 Show Friday night. Lemme tell you, I pour a mean glass of wine, and do an absolutely killer job of opening a can of beer.

What is the 365 show? Its a travelling show of the best of the best, the best graphic design nation wide for the year, as judged by a panel of judges and sponsored by AIGA national. Good stuff. Last year when we displayed it things didn't, well...

Let's just say it didn't go real well. Oh, how I want to tell you all about it. But the thing is, I'm pretty sure some people would be kinda upset with me if I played my favorite game of Character Assassination Bingo with the guy who org'd it last year. So lets leave it be.

But this year, I think it was a good time, with lots of people showing up to look at the work, and hang out and stuff. You bet.

A source who asked to be attributed anonymously tells me that Cobra Kai is preparing for their new tour. Tentatively called "The Sweep The Leg" tour, my source tells me that Cliff has covertly been designing Cobra Kai t-shirts for the group's impending trip to Minneapolis.

Upon discovering this, I asked the other two members about it. Well, as it turns out, everyone else except me has known about this for some time, and they've all seen the artwork too. Nice. I bet they were going to surprise me. Either that or they intentionally left the founder of the group out of the process because they're about to kick me out...and that's obviously not true. I'm no Dennis DeYoung.

The funny thing is, the whole Cobra Kai thing has really only ever been humorous to me. I invented the ficticious band, and only Dick and I ever really thought it was funny. I know Continental thought the logo and artwork nailed the mid-80's arena rock style, but he never joined in our amusement of the t-shirts I had made up and would wear occasionally. I was always under the impression that Cliff hated the stuff and just didn't want to say so, and consequently I have never pushed it on him. Apparently that's not entirely true. Interesting.

My source tells me that my original blue-chrome type treatment has been retired in favor of something else, but the source could not disclose the new look to me. When I find out, you'll be the first to know!

This is all unconfirmed and is, like I say, something I'm apparently not supposed to know about, so don't quote me on any of this.

Oh, man. That givin' blood took a lot out of me. Like about one pint.

But seriously, I was so tired that night, I watched tennis. Tennis! Me, the High Chief of Polyfro, watching tennis!

Let me explain myself (after the jump).

The Hot Pink Armband! In front of wall in the Chez Polyfro Home Office, now painted in the official palette colours and stripe pattern!

There are not many things, or people, I'll wear a 1991-esque-hot-pink arm band for. Actually I ain't wearin' hot pink for nobody. I don't care how hot she is.

Scratch that. I left the Red Cross today wearing a hot pink gauze arm band wrapped about my left elbow. But given the choice between not giving blood or having to wear hot pink for the afternoon, I'll wear hot pink. And I am.

You bet.

I've been taking abuse for about three hours for this damn hot pink thing, plus I'm down a pint, so I must warn you, this post will be more overtly ornery and quite possibly more offensive than usual. It just might make you upset at me. Enjoy.

Since I'm feeling sick today from a toxic brew of Hopluia Beer, too much greasy food, and heat, I'll have to let the photos tell the story this time. <a href="http://www.polyfro.com/2005/08/katie-gives-it-old-college-try-and-on.html">Katie probably thinks</a> that's a better idea, anyway. Now, enjoy a visual capsule of our evening with Styx, complete with smart-ass remarks from me!

Several signs that college football season is all up-ons!

1) Yesterday, a local radio station auctioned off tickets on-air for three events with the entire proceeds from the auction going to Hurricane relief. Two Paul McCartney tickets fetched $1500. Two Rolling Stones tickets also fetched $1500. Two tickets to the Nebraska football game against Maine fetched...

$9000.

You're kidding me, right? Two of the immortals of rock fetch, combined, 1/3 of a Nebraska football game against a Division I-AA team? I shouldn't be surprised, this being Nebraska and all, but come on. Even the guys on the radio were disgusted.