I can't figure out where Peter Gabriel was going with this.

Can anyone decipher that one?

It's just . . . opaque.

Posted by: Attila Girl at 05:36 PM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
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1 This is clearly a variant of the Incomprehensible Englishman syndrome first identified in 1968 with the release of Procul Harum's Whiter Shade of Pale. The symptoms are a state of cognitive disassociation and confusion followed by regret for having wasted valuable time listening, sometimes repeatedly, to musical doggerel with no sense, meaning or hook. In Mr. Gabriel’s case it is less a case of what the fuck is he saying as why the fuck is he saying it. It is similar to Incomprehensible Welshman Syndrome associated with Dylan Thomas (Not to be confused with Incomprehensible Bob Dylan Syndrome, a whole different and deeper kettle of fish!), Incomprehensible Irishmen Syndrome which spans a spectrum of disciplines, personalities and genres too numerous for citation and Incomprehensible Scotsman Syndrome which includes all Scotsmen regardless of age or gender and their apparel or lack there of. Currently the only population of the British Islands free of the curse appears to be the Manx although this may be because no one knows they exist although examples have been known to mutter a kind of Gaelic pig Latin and claim it was intelligible speech. In all cases it is a matter of actions that at first, second and third glance appear foolish, followed by an opening of the mouth and speaking words that proves the point. Without parsing Mr. Gabriel's words too closely he is apparently suggesting we jump in the water and kiss a somewhat anthropomorphic frog. The frog seems to retain memories and sense of identity from a past existence as a high-caste human judging by his references to royal blood while exhibiting the outward characteristics of the familiar amphibian: webbed feet, slimy skin and large bulbous eyes positioned on top of a large primitive skull. Of course this describes the current royal family as well, although I doubt that if you found one lying in a pond you'd be inclined to kiss it or even lick its back for the dubious pleasure of the psychedelic kick you could achieve by ingesting their mucosa. The literature (Herder's Symbol Dictionary, The Golden Bough, etc. see also my Wikipedia entry) is clear the frog is a transitive creature associated with re-birth and resurrection as is just about everything else in ancient myth and legend. Mr. Gabriel has obviously visited the Royal Mausoleum at Frogmore one too many times and identifies with Albert the Prince Consort of Saxe-Cogberg-Gotha whom he styles a “Frog Prince” and thus worthy of re-birth and the mantle of hero as Joseph Campbell and other intellectual frauds have maundered about. Or he has heard "Froggy goes a Courtin" and decided to pep it up a bit and failed. I hope this answers your question.

Posted by: Sejanus at May 24, 2008 11:40 AM (3xlLF)

2 Wikipedia entry on you, or on froggies?

Posted by: Attila Girl at May 24, 2008 06:43 PM (Hgnbj)

3 I am sorry. You are completely right, I misunderstood the question. I meant to respond to the question of whether Henry and Clover Adams were at least as influential as Gomez and Morticia, but I digress.

Posted by: Sejanus at May 25, 2008 12:48 AM (3xlLF)

4 Dick Cheney, through common ancestry with Henry Squires, is part of that Adams political family. As are Millard Fillmore, William Howard Taft, and Calvin Coolidge. And shouldn't we start with Samuel and Mary Fifield Adams (parents of Sam Adams), or even further back, rather than Henry and Clover (183 ? And is it true that Henry suffered a stroke upon learning of the sinking of the Titanic because he had tickets for the return trip from the US to Europe? Were they nonrefundable?

Posted by: Darrell at May 25, 2008 11:18 AM (jve07)

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Stephen Green was buying this, too. And now AllahP at Hot Air. What is wrong with people?

Parody. Get it? It's like when Sheryl Crow wrote about using a single square of toilet paper when she pees, and people took her seriously.

Sheesh. Just because someone works in L.A. does not make him/her dumb as a board. (Unless we are discussing a studio exec, of course. Those people are stupid.)

Posted by: Attila Girl at 10:20 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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These are the people who distributed Mine Your Own Business and The Singing Revolution—and helped Evan Coyne Maloney's Indoctrinate U gain a lot more traction than it otherwise would have.

Here's an interview by Sonny Bunch at DoubleThink that discusses the new short, and also gives some more background on MPI, one of the most professional indie production companies around (and certainly the most libertarian-minded).

Harrison Bergeron is a terrific story all by itself, vaguely reminiscent of Brad Bird's The Incredibles. (Well. I mean that the other way around, of course. It's just that the last two times I watched The Incredibles I couldn't remember what it was tickling in the back of my brain. And now I know. "If everybody's special, then nobody's special." Uh-huh.)

The MPI version is supposedly going to be the best adaptation of the story ever, though I thought the 1995 production with Sean Astin, Eugene Levy, et al. was nicely done. I do like the fact that MPI will be changing the name, since I've always had a mental block about it. (The reasoning? The Vonnegut fans will watch it anyway. And Harrison Bergeron is hard to spell. Yup.)

Anyway, keep a lookout; it's always going to be hard to find a screening of a short movie like this; I do hope it'll be out on DVD at some point. And I hope it brings the crew at MPI to a new level.

MPI: Call Bruce Willis and Michael Yon. They might have an idea for you to kick around . . . something about an outfit called Deuce Four, as I recall.

Posted by: Attila Girl at 08:41 AM | Comments (5) | Add Comment
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. . . has one data point—if that—in common with this one.

Via Althouse, who clearly has Radar Love on hers. Now we're talking.

Mine will have a fast segment and a slow segment ("Hijera," by Joni Mitchell; "Fast Car," by Tracy Chapman; "True," Concrete Blonde).

I mean, I'm not adverse to rocking out, and I don't mind if the title or chorus is "on the nose" in the lyrics department. For instance, "Life in the Fast Lane" is not out of the question. But "R.O.C.K. in the U.S.A."? Puhleeze. If you want musical junk food, why not something like "Ballroom Blitz"?

Or maybe something that reminds you to get liquored up for the Road? Try "Red Wine and Whiskey."

Posted by: Attila Girl at 10:11 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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. . . bad Clint Eastwood movies without mentioning Pink Cadillac. Unless, of course, "Dirty Harry" is planning one more post on the subject of Eastwood dazzlers and disgraces, labeling it "The Middle Five—Ugliest—Clint Eastwood Movies," or some such. Certainly In the Line of Fire was fairly forgettable, as was Blood Work (a lackluster movie based on a reasonably cool book).

Naturally, I disagree with D.H. on at least two of his choices: Mystic River, and Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil. But I don't think I've seen anything like the entire Eastwood canon.

What constitutes "good," though? Is it about creating something thought-provoking, or is it simply about wish-fulfillment: Eastwood in cowboy boots and a serape, waving guns around so men can identify with him and women can ogle him?—vice versa for gay men and female gun nuts?

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