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Tom Gordon's Blother

January 29, 2006

Tools of the Trade
Yammer, yammer, yammer...

So I purchased a new sketchbook a week after the new year began. Slowly but surely it's filling up in its own somewhat unique way -- not necessarily the content per se (which for the most part is comprised of the usual overdeveloped overupholstered doxies smiling for the drooling artist, while proudly holding aloft their newly-liberated largish gauzy slings), but the medium in which they're actually being rendered. Essentially I'm doing pencil drawings and inking them with -- oh, sweet Jeebus -- a frickin' Bic ball-point pen.

Well, whaddya want from me? Dammit, I've never been one of those 'artist's materials' enthusiasts, who can rattle off the precise caliber of his Rapidograph or brush and cite to seven decimal places the pigment mix ratio of his palette (whose complement of colors are no doubt organized along some efficent scientific concepts like those of Frank Reilly's). Oh, I have absolutely nothing against such people -- indeed, more power to 'em -- the arena we call 'art' today has been conspicuously devoid of some measure of scientific rigor for decades, now. I'll certainly take one (or even a third) of these methodical types over a hundred of the idiotic Pollockoid I'm-splattering-what-I-feel school, any day of the fargin' week.

But for yours truly... well, it's just a needlessly bureaucratic process. Better to get the Muse's recommendations on paper first, and then drag the whole thing kicking and screaming into Photoshop later, where it can be manipulated to my icy rock heart substitute's content. Pure aesthetic sacriliege, I know...

Returning for a very brief moment to Joel Stein again, I was less puzzled by his imbecilic statements (great Ghu, a LEFTIST, openly rooting for American defeat? Shocking! Shocking I say!) than by the collective conservative reaction, afterward. I believe most of my fellow travellers got about as far as Stein's opening declaration "I don't support the troops," saw that all-too-familiar Red Haze, and then without a moment's pause Unleashed The Kraken, so to speak. The fact that this columnist was also exposing the hypocrisy of his Benedict Arnold-esque peers never really registered, I fear.

Which is a shame. In the crucial battle that's also raging on the American home front, I would much rather deal with an honest (and honestly contemptible) Michael Moore type -- who hates this country and thinks we deserved 9/11 and regards the Islamofascist Jihad as some kind of glorious rebellion against the West's barbaric traditions of freedom, democracy, capitalism and peaceful coexistence between diverse peoples -- than a mushmouthed fencestraddling "moderate" weathervane like John Kerry, whose platform morphs with each election cycle.

Clarity is foo!

January 28, 2006

Bats and Moonbats
Erm. So. Now that I've gotten that all-essential First Blog Entry out of the way, what next on my long slippery slope towards a complete and total lack of enthusiasm (imposed in no small part by a self-imposed restriction about publicly discussing such highly personal/embarassing subject matter as my fetishistic attraction to pleasantly double-chinned females)?

Musick, I s'pose. MySpace's whole Java-based album-selection gizmo was a new one on me, as in most cases I'd think nobody would give a rabid dingo's kidneys what batch of noise I was listening while scrawling the usual dense prose rife with assorted pop-cultural detritus and/or rightwingneoconimperialist sentiment. But yes, my little droogies, the "Batman Begins" soundtrack HAS recieved 'major rotation' in the Gordon dojo/cubicle/hole-in-the-wall. (Assuming your average flash-based MP3 player is really just a Victorian assemblage of whirring gears and moving parts, of course. Maybe this'll actually happen when some jihadist scumtard detonates an EMP device -- forcibly ushering in a necessary second era of (nano-scale) mechanical computing... hey, well, there's ALWAYS a silver lining, isn't there?)

In particular, the track "Molossus" -- whose first two minutes should be placed alongside Thus Spake Zarathrusa and TESB's Imperial March as film-music milestones. Yes, yes, yes -- you can also hear it in the film approximately when a cowled growling Christian Bale decides to whimsically Evel Knieval his paramilitary SUV off a parking garage (right after crushing a few Priusian fauxmobiles, heh heh). But that crazed rampup by Zimmer and Howard's platoon of overly-caffeinated violinists is just a wee bit lost amidst the Dark Knight lighting off that Big Effing JATO unit.

Oh, loved Chris Nolan's shades-of-80's-Hasbro "Tumbler", BTW. I read somewhere in one of those innumerable bikini babe-covered gearhead periodicals that he actually toiled upon that sucker for over a year in his garage, Coop-like, before filming. Hmm. Maybe yours truly should also start honing his near-nonexistent skillz in Manly Automotive Mechanics. It certainly helped THOSE clowns become better artists.

Here I come, (insert corporate regional car-parts franchise here)!

In other Olde Newse, Joel Stein is indeed a traitorous fargin' tewl. But at least he's an HONEST one -- unlike the rest of his closeted Grim Milestone-invoking, blood-dancing colleagues. Dennis Prager would certainly pat this 'humorist' on the shoulder, and say "you done good, kid."

(Just before he mucked up his pretty-boy dental work with a handy two-by-four, that is. For those American Quislings who're actively working to make Osama's Caliphate a reality, there are very low tolerance limits.)

January 26, 2006

One small step...
And so Tom has at last signed onto the latest Electronic Fad Of The Picosecond. Yes, hopefully PT Barnum's ghost won't laugh TOO loud, there. Between THIS redundant thingumbob, 10+ years of art filling my remaining EarthSpringMindLink website space, a moldering Xanga blog and (of course) my usual blundering meanderings amongst the Meatsphere and its complement of perplexing fleshlings, it's a wonder I can even find time to sleep anymore. Or even, Cthulhu forbid, DRAW.

Ah well. Still, I remain convinced the constantly-updating likes of Lileks, et al are not in fact human beings at all, but complex simulacrums (simulacrii?) generated by the increasingly self-aware distributed consciousness of the Internet. The god-AI's goal? Why, to transform its' vast global base of organic operators into obsessed content-production droids, of course! With their faces forever locked into that overwhelming world described by their CRT screens/LCD displays/holographic generators/whatever, they'll never notice the gentle coup d'etat perpetrated by the Machines, maaaaaan.

In any event -- the first step is always the hardest.
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