Project MERCATOR
Say "Aloha!" to Ska
I first visited the Aloha Lounge last Christmastide, when Palooka-ville played a reunion show on St. Stephen's Day (26 December). My parents were beside themselves with excitement when I told that about that show; "Jimmy Lum's Aloha Lounge?" they asked, as if that somehow answered more questions than it raised. Apparently, back in the '80s our neighbor Mr. Lum, whom I remember for his gull-winged DeLorean—yes, dear readers, for a couple years I lived kitty-corner to a DeLorean—owned & operated the Aloha Lounge, back before all the G.M. factories across Dort Highway from the Aloha were shut down & boarded up. Fast forward twenty years & The Loose Ties announced, on rather short notice, that they were to play a show at the Aloha Lounge with a Detroit ska band called C.B.J. on Saturday (5 November, & I have no idea what, if anything, C.B.J. stands for). My parents didn't know where I was going ahead of time because Saturday was also their monthly "Cards" night—Pinochle with Pinochet!—but when on Sunday I told my mom where I'd been she asked, "Jimmy Lum's Aloha Lounge?" *sigh*

There were precious few people in attendance. Par for the course, none of my local pals accepted my invitation; the road of the ska fan is a lonely one, as so few others appreciate this greatest of all genres. Though I strove to show up late I still arrived at the Aloha well before the music started. I greeted The Loose Ties one-by-one & was invited to take a seat by Matt, the drummer & friendliest bloke in the world. Alas, the vintage '90s alternative rock that was blaring over the speakers was blaring at precisely the volume necessary to inhibit conversation; so, we all sat there in relative silence. I'd have preferred to sit in the luxury of one of the two padded corner booths, but I didn't want to be seen as rejecting Matt's hospitality.

I did not dance during C.B.J.'s first set (both they & The Loose Ties alternated on stage & played two sets apiece) for two reasons: {ein} there is always a lag between the beginning of a show & the moment when the need to dance seizes you und {zwei} they played that particular flavor of third-wave ska (a.k.a. ska-punk) that is unaccommodating to skanking, being more akin to punk than to first- or second-wave ska. But the rhythm grew more & more infectious, & by the time The Loose Ties came on stage I was primed & ready to skank. I did so with gusto throughout the first set, though of course I sat out their excellent cover version of Third Eye Blind's "Semi-Charmed Life," as is my custom. I hate that song; not only do I think its a terrible song, but back in the day I heard it a thousand thousand times, so that to this day I know way too many of the lyrics. But here's the thing: The Loose Ties have made it into a good song, a really good song. It's one of their best songs, better than almost all of their originals & most of their other covers. So, on the one hand, I object to the song in principle & could not live with myself if I endorsed it, however tacitly, my skanking along. On the other hand, they've made it into a really really catchy ska song, perfect for skanking along. On the gripping hand, by this point in time it's become a bit that I scowl, cover my ears, & give them the thumbs down during "Semi-Charmed Life."

After that set, while C.B.J. was setting up to go again, Becca (code name pending) thanked me for skanking along. Though in recent years I have railed against the regrettable habit of people to countering every "thank you" with an aggressive, bigger "thank you" in lieu of simply saying "you're welcome," in this instance I thought it necessary to offer my own thanks: I thanked her for the music to which I skank along. I then drew her in with a crook of my finger & requested, though indeed I phrased it as an imperative, that she sing lead on more than one song, the eponymous "Becca's Song." She replied that they were working on that. Bully! I stepped outside for a few minutes to cool off, steam arising from my head & shoulders into the chilly night air, for by then midnight was fast approaching. I shared the front steps with the usual crowd of smokers, the poor devils, victims of Michigan's new ban on smoking in restaurants & bars.

Back inside, I skanked along during the second C.B.J. set, though the inherent difficulties of their style of ska remained. Becca was leading a small contingent of skanking girls (not to be confused with skanky girls), though by & large their legs seemed to flail without any deference to the beat of that moment's song. I'm not saying their style is wrong (maybe I am), but back in my day we skanked in rhythm; that wasn't the whole point of skanking, but it was an essential part of skanking. Though the girls were on and off the dance floor all the time--the Aloha Lounge has a real, honest-to-ska dance floor--whenever I would start to flag Becca would appear out of nowhere & pantomime that I should get going again. If you aren't going to dance when a delectable girl in a short, plaid skirt & tall, high-heeled boots asks you to, when are you going to dance?

Near the end of the set, C.B.J.'s saxophonist asked how everyone in the crowd was doing. Perhaps he expected whoops & yells, but I already whooped & clapped at the end o' each song; so, I just gave him a thumbs up. He asked, "A thumbs up? Are you #@%*ing kidding me?" So, I gave him the double thumbs up. He was not amused. Shortly thereafter, the lead singer mentioned that C.B.J. had merch for sale, that they'd driven all the way from Detroit to play for us that night, & that they'd really like to break even on the trip. Perhaps they should have thought about that a little more before they decided that they were somehow too good for the humble thumbs up. Jerks.

To be continued…

Psychology
The second half of Psych's fifth season premiered last Wednesday (10 November), & as had been done several times throughout the fall of '09 & winter of '09-'10, I invited the gang over to my house to watch the episode. I meant to do this at least a week in advance, but I kept putting it off & putting it off until finally creating the FaceSpace event page on Monday, 8 November. In the end, my only guests were The Most Dangerous Game & Frankenstein's Monster, out of approximately ten invitations. Disappointing, but not surprising given the extremely late notice, & the inconvenience of U.S.A. having moved Pysch from Friday to Wednesday, a less than ideal night for socializing. The Impossible Ingenue was set to attend until she was called in to her mysterious third shift job. I think I shall wait until the season finale before I try again, & of course I must take care to give my intended guests much greater lead time.

Banzai!
At long last, hibachi. On Thursday (11 November, Armistice Day), we held November's monthly Economics Club dinner at Ichiban, a newish Japanese restaurant in Grand Blanc. I'd been to Ichiban before in the company of The Ingenue, The Blonde, & Vitamin H., but as always the girls were very insistent that we eat sushi. But once Ichiban was selected as the site of November's dinner, I was able to use the anti-sushi prejudice of some of our newer members (refugees from the all-but-defunct Business Club) to argue for hibachi-side seating. "Victory for ZIM!"

The dinner turned out to be the greatest monthly Economics Club dinner yet. I estimated a party of eight, based on personal correspondence & intercourse, but throughout the evening more & more people trickled in. I arrived alone, but Professor D. must have been waiting in the parking lot because he entered almost as soon as I'd been seated. Before that, though, the honcho (owner? manager? franchisee? who knows?) greeted me as if I was an old friend he hadn't seen in years; I've been there thrice, but this guy treats me as if I walk on air. So, things got off to a grand start. Shortly, newbie Rob entered with two non-Econ. Club friends in tow. Thursday was his birthday; so, Ichiban had been his choice, from a list of local restaurants. Good show, Rob! Then arrived The Most Dangerous Game (Club president), The Blonde (treasurer), Vitamin H., & newbie Cory, a nice chap except for his Libertarian politics. Your humble narrator (I'm the Club's vice president & secretary, by the way) included, we numbered nine. And then arrived, nearly simultaneously, Professor B. & oft-absent-but-always-fun Club member Brandy. Eleven! In due time Frankenstein's Monster & The Impossible Ingenue drifted in separately, but both arrived after the main meal had commenced. No precisely records exist, but thirteen is certainly the largest crowd we've had since last fall's debacle at Mongolian Barbeque, if not simply the largest crowd yet.

A note about the opening line, "At long last, hibachi." Ichiban's "hibachi" isn't hibachi at all, but teppanyaki. But since the two halves of the restaurant themselves carry large exterior signs proclaiming "Sushi" & "Hibachi," I've been hungering for teppanyaki while encouraged from every quarter to think of it as hibachi. So, I'm not an expert on Nihon-jin culture. Sue me.

Every great meal consists of two elements: great food & great company. As great as the company was, the food was greater yet! I'd never been to a teppanyaki restaurant, though I had a general pop-cultural awareness of the antics of the cooks at Benihana. Yeah, this was like that. Wow, this was like that! Our cook was a wizard, amusing us with spinning, flying blades; a thousand tricks with fire; a squeeze bottle full of sake that was shot down our throats from a distance; food cut at lightning speeds & stacked in amusing ways; & the ability to catch eggs in his hat. It was both dinner & a show. And what a dinner! I loves me some sushi, but I'd been jonesing for something both Japanese & cooked & my steak did not disappoint. In retrospect, I should have had it prepared medium instead of medium-rare, but is was scrumptious all the same. The fried rice was delicious. The noodles were delicious. The vegetables were delicious. The steak was delicious. The sake was more amusing than delicious, but it was terribly amusing. (And, boy, did it burn on the way down.) It was an essentially perfect meal. Everything I'd hoped, & more.

Atlanticism
As I was neared the entrance to the library this evening for the weekly History Club meeting (I'm the secretary), I spied the aforementioned Cory, Frankenstein's Monster, & a fellow not of my acquaintance. Cory asked hopefully, "Here for the Libertarian thing?" The look on my face & my hesitation told him I was not, & at length I said, "I'm far too much of an Atlanticist to ever be Libertarian." With a wave of my hand I was on my way. I do not know which facet of Libertarianism I find the more irksome, its disguised anarchism or its open isolationism, but it is the latter that more often rouses my ire. Democrats & left-wingers I can deal with; Libertarians make me think of nothing but murder.

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
The Four Lads, "Istanbul (Not Constantinople)" via iTunes (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: I missed a golden opportunity the first time that episode of Raising Hope aired, but with tonight's rerun chance has graciously afforded me a second. Thanks, capricious Fortune!

"She'll be waiting in Istanbul."