The Rebel Black Dot Songs of the Day
Huey Lewis & The News, "The Power of Love" via iTunes (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: The week of love songs following the week of "anti-love songs" that follows Valentine's Day did not succeed. They've been fine songs, but the selecting has felt forced, resulting in a distinct lack of enthusiasm. I do not regret the experiment, but it shan't be repeated as an annual ritual. However, we end on a high note, with a love song utterly bereft of any romance that I enjoy immensely despite this glaring defect. Just another mystery of the power of love.

"Power of love will keep you home at night."

Montag, 27 Februar
Sam & Dave, "Hold On, I'm Coming" from the Rhino Hi-Five: Sam & Dave E.P. (T.L.A.M.)

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Reel Big Fish, "Good Thing" from Cheer Up! (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: Not even Cheer Up! is completely cynical, though it must be acknowledged that "Good Thing" is tinged with a fear that the titular good thing can't last forever. But for the nonce, hooray!

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
The Puppini Sisters, "Bei Mir Bist Du Schön" from Betcha Bottom Dollar (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: "Each language only helps me tell you how grand you are."

The Savage Wars of Peace
Now watch is amazement as the "international community" reacts with a swift & decisive shrug of indifference: Tuareg-link. I freely admit that 'til this morning I was unaware that fighting had broken out in northern Mali, much less possessed much awareness of why fighting might break out in Mali. The first step is to delve deeper, to gain a more comprehensive understanding of events on the ground & the underlying causes. The second step is to stew in frustration at how capricious is the world's reaction to humanitarian crises & civil wars. No one ever said building a better world would be easy, but I am constantly shocked & appalled by how many of my fellow citizens don't even consider the endeavour worth the slightest portion of our blood & treasure. Alas!

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Go Sailor, "Bigger Than an Ocean" from Go Sailor (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary:

"If you moved a million miles away
I'd still visit you every day,
Flying across is sea is not the farthest
I'd go around the world just to see you,
'Cause I know,

My love is bigger than an ocean,
My heart swims in a sea of devotion,
My love is bigger than an ocean,
My heart swims in a sea of devotion for you."

The Explorers' Club
№ CCLXXIV - Gaping Gill, the (second) deepest hole in England.







There's much more to the cave complex than the waterfall shown above, the highest in England, but the unparalleled plunge is certainly Gaping Gill's marquee feature.

Hollywoodland
Yesterday morning, as I prepared to depart for As Wednesday Mass, my mother sat watching Good Morning America (which really should be titled Good Morning, America), as is her regrettable wont. The segment I saw briefly as I filled up my water bottles was title "Before They Were Stars," featuring a clip of the then-unknown Bérénice Bejo, late of The Artist fame, portraying the lady-in-waiting in 2001's A Knight's Tale. A Knight's Tale brought to mind Shannyn Sossamon, who brought to mind 40 days and 40 Nights, which is really not the movie of which one wishes to be reminded at the very beginning of Lent.

For those who've seen The Artist & have a jones to see another film directed by Michel Hazanavicius & starring Jean Dujardin & the aforementioned Bérénice Bejo, I would recommend the spy comedy O.S.S. 117: Cairo, Nest of Spies (original French title: O.S.S. 117: Le Caire nid d'Espions). It's in color, has dialogue, & uses a modern aspect ratio, but the dialogue is in French so you do get to revisit your The Artist reading experience via the English subtitles. Oui! Oui!

The Queue
Jumpin' Jack Pratt, King Solomon's Mines was incredible! I cannot wait to read more of Haggard. I'm tempted to jump The Gods of Mars, the second volume of Burroughs's Barsoom novels, to the top o' the queue, but Body of Lies & City of Gold have been roughly shoved aside too many times already. I dare not read another proper book before tackling them both. Still, I eagerly await more Burroughs, as well as Allan Quatermain & She, & quite probably more beyond, from Haggard. Adventure today!

Recently
Edgar Rice Burroughs, Tarzan of the Apes
Eric Powell, The Goon: Rough Stuff
Hergé, The Adventures of Tintin: The Blue Lotus
H. Rider Haggard, King Solomon's Mines

Currently
Eric Powell, The Goon: Nothin' But Misery & My Murderous Childhood (and Other Grievous Yarns)

Presently
Hergé, The Adventures of Tintin: Red Rackham's Treasure
David Ignatius, Body of Lies
Len Deighton, City of Gold
Steve Martin, Born Standing Up: A Comic's Life

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Nil Lara, "Fighting for My Love" via iTunes (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: A song of which I would be lamentably ignorant were it not for Scrubs.

Project GLOWWORM
I didn't wear a hat today, Ash Wednesday, so as not to smudge the ashes on my forehead. The sensation of walking around campus with my head uncovered was bizarre; more than ever, the conviction arouse without conscious thought that for propriety's sake a man should wear a hat.

A longer discussion could be had about the potentially contra-Biblical boastfulness of wearing the ashes in the first place, much less trying to preserve them for as long as possible, but the fire's not in me today. Instead, here are a couple of Ash Wednesday gems for times past: Wayback Machine ('05) & Wayback Machine ('08).

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Mitch & Mickey, "When You're Next to Me" from A Mighty Wind: The Album (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: For my money, "When You're Next to Me" is a more romantic love song than "A Kiss At the End of the Rainbow," even though "Kiss" has Mitch & Mickey's famous on-stage kiss.

Operation AXIOM | Urbi et Orbi
I love Ash Wednesday. In the past I've called Ash Wednesday, "my favorite day of the year to be Catholic," & that holds true unto the present day. The Lenten season has begun, leading to the Passion of Our Lord & the payment in full of the wages of sin. 'Tis a good day.

Operation ÖSTERREICH
I'm now comfortably down a belt hole. I've been in the grey zone betwixt standard & "minus one" for several months now, but standard is finally insufficient to hold my trousers up & prevent exposure of my boxer shorts. This is grand news on the cusp of Lent, a time during which I am genuinely confident moderation will be the order of the day. Here's hoping that "minus one" will become the new "standard."

Diet & exercise, butterball. There's no secret to it, just diet & exercise. The fat or the girl, you can't have both.

Hello, Kitty
Diva likes to come into my room in the morning. She'll jump up onto my bed, meow loudly, scratch her head against the corner of my nightstand, bat alarmingly at the Rosary hanging from the headboard, pace around, meow whenever I neglect to pet her, walk to the foot of the bed where I cannot pet her without sitting up, & repeat these steps in whatever order strikes her fancy for five minutes, by which time her amusement has passed. She then jumps to the floor & exits. All of this starts with her meowing & scratching (without claws) at my door; I get out of bed & let her in before falling back under the covers. I left my door open slightly last night, so Diva could enter directly without waiting for me to let her in. She didn't appear when she normally would, but no sooner had I made a run to the water closet & close my door upon returning to my room than who should meow loudly & longingly outside my door but Diva herself. She didn't stay as long as she normally does; mayhap she was infuriated with my tinkering with her beloved routine. Tonight, I shall again sleep with my door closed.

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
The Hippos, "Celebrate" from Forget the World (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: One last entrant in our now-annual post-Valentine's Day festival of the horrors & failures of love, before… whatever comes next. Last year, I intended to follow the anti-love week with a week of genuine love songs, but was forestalled by an epic bout of the dreadful sick, the bout so bad it drove me to consult a physician for the first time in years. I feel no particular desire to feature a week of heartfelt love songs, but I think I shall in deference to last year's whim, & to see if love week should become the annual companion to anti-love week. But first, "Celebrate":

"Don't you think that I've found somethin' new,
I'm finished with you.

I celebrate, I celebrate,
My days of hate, my days of hate,
'Cause now I see
You're nothin' to me!"

Operation AXIOM | The Stars My Destination
Fifty years ago to the day, 20 February 1962, John Glenn became the third American in space & the first to orbit the Earth aboard the Mercury capsule Friendship 7: B.B.C.-link & Wikipedia-link. I've had the privilege & supreme joy of seeing the Friendship 7 in her place of honor at the National Air & Space Museum, the Valhalla of American aviation & astronautics. We have faltered & lost our way, but we had heroes willing to sunder the veil of the heavens once, & we shall have them again. "Godspeed, John Glenn!"

Science!
Sweet fancy Moses: 28,000 B.C.-link! If all goes well ("well" in this case meaning the growth of more long-preserved plants, a true bumper crop of sweet, sweet abominations), soon botanical gardens will be able to steal the clichéd tagline so long abused by history museums: "Where the past comes alive!"

Science!

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Fitz & The Tantrums, "MoneyGrabber" from Pickin' Up the Pieces (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: We must remember, & take some small solace in that fact that there are worse fates than being alone. Also, 'tis more fun to dump than to be dumped; so, shrink not from pulling that trigger.

"One, two, three,
O, one is for the money,
Two is for the greed,
The three times that I told you
That you're the one I just don't need."

Urbi et Orbi
From the way the morning had unfolded, the subtle clues throughout, I was fairly certain I'd be going to eleven o'clock Mass alone when I stepped out of my room ready to go at 10:45. Downstairs, I saw Mom sitting in her favorite easy chair, reading the newspaper, still wearing her pajamas. (No condemnation, it's not as if I've never skipped Mass due to sloth.) Before I could say anything she announced that she intended to attend the afternoon's five o'clock Mass. I pondered for a moment: Go alone or wait & go with her later? She told me I could go ahead, but I replied that it was "more fun" to go with someone. We went to the five o'clock, & only when we arrived did I remember that the five o'clock is the Mass that features the blasted hippie music, the "contemporary" music, as if Holy Redeemer was some tiny United Southern Charismatic Evangelical Methodist Baptist Church of God Christ (Reformed) church, the kind of outfit where the most prominent name on the sign outside is the pastor's, instead of a parish of Holy Mother Church. O how I loathe the blasted hippie music! (Wayback Machine.) There is no reason ever to have an electric bass guitar inside a Catholic church! Afterward, Mom remarked how much she liked the music, though she must have heard my eyes roll because she added that she knew it wasn't to my taste. We both agreed that it is preferable to have someone with whom to attend Mass, regardless of the music.

A pair of names I might use at some point for fictional bands, though the latter might also work as the title of a story:

Vox Populi & the Hoi Polloi
Poison Pen & the Purple Prose / Purple Prose & the Poison Pen
--> The Poison Pen & The Purple Prose
--> Poison Penn & the Purple Prose

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Reel Big Fish, "Suckers" from Cheer Up! (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: "This one's for all the suckers who still believe in love!"

Happy Birthday!
I wish nothing but the preposterously happiest of birthdays to The Guy! An old chum from way back (the halcyon days of endless summers at the Ottawa Hills Cabana Club; yes, "cabana club" not country club), The Guy & I reconnected on a much deeper level in the years either side of the turn of the millennium, the Golden Age of Blue Tree Whacking. It is my privilege to be not only his friend, but his partner on a writing project that I can't believe I've not yet code named. It was a delight to be his & his lovely wife's house guest at the New Year. Happy birthday, Zach!

The Explorers' Club
№ CCLXXIII - The Nazca Lines.







Project MERCATOR
I saw The Loose Ties at their usual haunt, the Soggy Bottom Bar, last night, performing alongside local rockabilly band Badsville. I'm not sure how to dance to rockabilly; so, I sat on a bar stool near the stage, snapping my fingers or slapping my thigh rhythmically, & clapping & cheering loudly after each song. I thought about asking April May June to dance, figuring that a couple dancing awkwardly & uncertainly would be less awkward than a solo awkward & uncertain dancer, but she was busy playing pool with Ska Army, Farr Afield, & Farr Afield's present boyflesh. (I mean no offense by the word "present," but the facts remain that the entirely delectable Farr Afield changes boyfleshes every three to four months with nary a break in-between.) When April May June left the poolroom at the back of the bar to come near the stage she did so with her camera in hand, & I wished not to interfere with her photography. I left after Badsville's set, shortly before The Loose Ties began, to fetch Jojo at the end of her work shift. We missed only one or two of The Loose Ties' songs, & danced our way through both of their sets, skanking during the fast numbers & slow dancing during the musically sweet but lyrically dark "Drinking for Eleven." I was able to cajole The Most Dangerous Game into going to one ska show, & then only because The Cowgirl was going, & The Cowgirl was only going because she was Ska Army's girlflesh at the time. What is truly rad about Jojo is her embrace of the ska show, not necessarily falling in love with the ska music, but loving the atmosphere & the dancing, loving the fun. After the second set we hung around 'til closing time, chitchatting with Farr Afield, her boyflesh, & T. B. Player, an old high-school chum of Jojo's. When the Soggy Bottom closed ("You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here.") Jojo & I repaired to my house, where we watched John Carpenter's The Thing into the wee small hours of the morn, after which I drove her home, shared with her our customary long embrace of greeting & parting, & motored home to my bed.

My convivial persona came back to bite me betwixt The Loose Ties' two sets. I sat on a stool next to Ska Army, joshing with my pal, my back to the wall, catching my breath after the dancing exertions of the first set. Jojo appeared before me, biting her lower lip, & extending toward me a ten-dollar bill. I asked her which item of clothing she'd like me to remove first, but after a smile addressed her real purpose & asked her what manner of drink she wished me to purchase for her. She replied that she didn't know, & she didn't want to fight the throng gathered in front of the bar to find out what they had. I took a guess, a double chocolate beer, & her face lit up; she'd beer jonesing for the double chocolate since the last time we'd been there together. As I made my way to the bar—& it must be noted that I am particularly inept at attracting the attention of barkeeps, be they lads or lasses—I passed a group of jovial chavs & heard them reciting lines from the old Saturday Night Live sketches about Bill Brasky, that "son of a bitch." Without even thinking about what I was going I played the Tim Meadows part & pipped in that I knew Bill Brasky before continuing on my way. I reached the emptiest spot on the bar, flagged down the attention of the one of the pair of distaff bartenders from whom I'd not yet ordered over the course of the evening, & order Jojo's brew. On my way back, brew in hand, i was briefly detained by the chavs who marveled at my knowledge of their supposed inside joke. I was wearing my convivial façade & poured on the charm 'til I was able to break away & make my delivery to Jojo. No sooner had a done so than the leader of the chavs, absent during my second brief interaction with them, tapped me on the shoulder &, true to the Bill Brasky sketches, offered to buy me a round. He wouldn't take "No" for an answer & so I rejoined his little troupe. We indulged in a mutual love of S.N.L.'s past glories & I impressed them as mightily as I do so many people; I cannot explain why my good-time Charley façade is so devastatingly effective, I know only that it is before a wide variety of audiences. I was soon invited by the chavs' chieftain to join them sometime for a game of Dungeons & Dragons, a suggestion that surprised me less once I noticed that the chieftain's stocking cap bore the likeness of Jack Skellington from Tim Burton's The Nightmare Before Christmas. Making friends & influencing people wherever I go, even when I don't intend to do so.

Bier!
I suppose I should not look a gift horse in the mouth, but when the lead chav insisted on buying me a round I had rather thought that I'd be the one to select the brew. Instead, when we arrived at the bar he handed me a newly-opened bottle of Bud Light. I am fully prepared to be pilloried as an ungrateful snob here, because, really, Bud Light? I understand that bottle of domestic were on special (a scandalous $1.50 per), & free beer is free beer, & yet I was disappointed & vaguely outraged. Of course, I thanked my new buddy for his largess &, yes, I did in fact drink the whole Bud Light. I suppose it could have been worse, it could have been a can of Pabst Blue Ribbon (on special for $1.00 per). I had a bottle of P.B.R. around New Year's when I visited The Guy & The Gal in Saint Louis, & all I can say is that it wasn't bad. When I had a double-sized can of P.B.R. on New Year's Eve itself, though, at the Mu330 show, "not bad" was no longer the case. As a blanket statement, beer tastes better out of a bottle than out of a can, we can all agree on that, but the difference made to P.B.R was immense &, out of the can, detrimental to an extreme degree. Last night's Bud Light was offensive only it is utter blandness.

Project PANDORA
I considered ending the first paragraph of today's "Project MERCATOR" post with the words, "…& motored home to my (cold, lonely) bed," but decided against playing up the melodrama of my parting with Jojo. Sure, I like hanging out with Jojo & in a hypothetical world devoid of moral considerations I'd love to screw her brains out, but our friendship is sincere & I genuinely wish not to be her boyflesh.

Hollywoodland*
The Thing, is should be noted, is both my favorite horror movie (even above, yes, Ridley Scott's Alien, another film that beautifully combines the science fiction & horror genres) & the second scariest motion picture I've ever seen. The scariest movie I've ever seen, though frightening for entirely different reasons than The Thing, is Leni Riefenstahl's propaganda documentary Triumph of the Will.

The Queue
Tarzan of the Apes was a rip-roaring adventure, the kind of book I wish I'd read years & years ago so that I could say my love of the book was lifelong. For all that, I must agree with my father that it didn't tickle my fancy quite as much as A Princess of Mars, the first John Carter book, but that's no harsher a criticism than saying A New Hope doesn't tickle my fancy quite as much as The Empire Strikes Back. My plan is to read more of the Barsoom (Mars) series sooner rather than later, but I also fully intend to delve deeper in the primordial world of Tarzan. Next, though, for E. R. Burroughs at least, I think I'll sample the Carson Napier/Venus series. Adventure today!

Recently
Henry Mazzeo, editor, & Edward Gorey, illustrator, Hauntings: Tales of the Supernatural
Edgar Rice Burroughs, Tarzan of the Apes
Eric Powell, The Goon: Rough Stuff
Hergé, The Adventures of Tintin: The Blue Lotus

Currently
H. Rider Haggard, King Solomon's Mines

Presently
David Ignatius, Body of Lies
Hergé, The Adventures of Tintin: Red Rackham's Treasure
Len Deighton, City of Gold
Eric Powell, The Goon: Nothin' But Misery & My Murderous Childhood (and Other Grievous Yarns)
Steve Martin, Born Standing Up: A Comic's Life

The Rebel Black Dot Songs of the Day
Reel Big Fish, "Dateless Losers" from Cheer Up! (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary:

"We are the dateless losers,
Lonely until we die,
So unappreciated,
Why why why why?"

Freitag, 17 Februar
Reel Big Fish, "Somebody Loved Me" from Cheer Up! (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: This is the meanest week of the R.B.D.S.O.T.D.'s whole year, & there's no meaner band than the Reel Big Fish; the Reel Big Fish have no meaner album than Cheer Up!, not even the meaner-titled We're Not Happy 'Til You're Not Happy. To quote James Coburn from the motion picture Payback, "Man, that's just mean! That's mean, man!"

"I think somebody loved me once,
I think somebody loved me once,
I think somebody loved me once,
But I cannot remember why."

*The title "Hollywoodland" is lifted from the late, lamented, to-be-resurrected zine The Newsletter.

Happy Birthday!
Warmest wishes for a happy birthday to Daddy Dylweed! Capricious Fortune has been especially cruel to Dylweed of late, the only upside being the chance to see my old friend more often than I normally would. Under different circumstances, it would have been ideal. Here's hoping the next year is kinder than the past year. Happy birthday, Dylan!

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Lily Allen, "Not Big" from Alright, Still (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: Where's the fun in an amiable parting of the ways? Venomous acrimony, now that's how you make a memory.

Project PARAFFIN
The good news is that I'm writing. The bad news is that I hate every word I'm writing. Bite the bullet, old son, & plow ahead. Worry about making it pretty once you've written more than just a short story.

Grow or die.

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
The Proclaimers, "It Was Always So Easy (To Find an Unhappy Woman)" from Notes & Rhymes (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary:

"It was always so easy to find an unhappy woman
'Til I started lookin' for mine…"

Operation AXIOM: Be My Anti-Valentine
I came downstairs this morning to discover a Valentine's Day card & a bag of peanut M&M's sitting at my place at the kitchen table, gifts from my sainted mother. Even disdaining Valentine's Day as I do, I couldn't do nothing; so, when I heard her automobile start outside—remote started from upstairs—I put on my boots & coat & brushed the overnight snowfall, an inch of so, off my motorcar. She came out just as I was finishing, thanked me, received my thanks for her traditional boon, & then was off. When I returned home in the evening, I found a card & a toy car from my father, day-of shopping being his M.O. The habitual tardiness doesn't make his gesture any less heartfelt, the old curmudgeon. Also, proving myself yet more the hypocrite, I could not help but share a bag of fundraising candy with my fellow's at the afternoon's History Club meeting. I can't really be opposed to spreading a little goodwill amongst men, can I?

If it makes you feel better, tell yourself I did it not for virtue but to spite the dark bastard.

The Queue
This weekend, my pop spied me reading Tarzan of the Apes. I remarked that I'd recently read A Princess of Mars & he mentioned that he had the whole Barsoom series squirreled away in the basement. This was jolly news, as my local library's collection of Edgar Rice Burroughs is shamefully skimpy. Without any prompting from me, he searched his massive book collection, but in vain. He was frustrated, as he was sure he'd seen the books in the none-too-distant past, but struggled to remember when & where they'd last been spied. He eventually called off the search, muttering bitterly about possibly having been forced my Mom to unload the books at a garage sale back in the Big '80s. He had a brainwave sometime this afternoon & found all eleven volumes, from A Princess of Mars to John Carter of Mars. Huzzah! I meant to read more of the Barsoom books, & may now do so sooner rather than later.

We're going with a classic photograph this year, because this is still my favorite anti-Valentine's Day image.

Operation AXIOM: Be My Anti-Valentine
I'm not anti-love; I'm an incurable romantic. My objection to Valentine's Day is not rooted in opposition to a celebration of romantic love. I'm not anti-capitalist; I rather enjoy a well-crafted bit of marketing. My objection to Valentine's Day is not rooted in opposition to an orgy of conspicuous consumption. I am lonely, not simply alone, but my objection to Valentine's Day is rooted in more than just envy; I fully concede that envy is a component, just not the only or even the paramount component. Valentine's Day is awful, awful in much the same way that reality television is awful. Valentine's Day reflects the debasement of our culture, the striving to lower rather than to elevate the level of the discourse. I hate Valentine's Day. I hated Valentine's Day in the past, I hate Valentine's Day now, & I will still hate Valentine's Day after I meet, woo, & wed The Last Angry Bride.

Be my anti-Valentine.

A retrospective on Valentine's Days past here at The Secret Base, with all the bitterness, invective, & redirected loneliness you'd expect:

Valentine's Day '11

Valentine's Day '10

Valentine's Day '09

Valentine's Day '08

Valentine's Day '07

Valentine's Day '06

Valentine's Day '05

Valentine's Day '04

The Rebel Black Dot Song of Valentine's Day
The Mighty Mighty Bosstones, "The Magic of Youth" from The Magic of Youth (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: More goes wrong in "The Magic of Youth" than just the failure of young love, but it all stems from that. Welcome to the meanest week in the R.B.D.S.O.T.D.'s whole year.

"She had been counting on some of the lies
That he had been telling her being the truth…"

Project PANDORA
What free time I had in the middle of the day today I spent sitting at a table in the student union, doing my part for a two-bit fundraiser, selling little bags of candy for $1, little plastic bags festooned with hearts for Valentine's Day. For a spell I was joined by a distaff acquaintance (to whom I shall assign the code name "The Bombshell"), a gorgeous friend of Ska Army's with whom he was quite smitten last Fall. We talked of protocol, as she wondered whether when the time comes to dump her boyflesh she should return to him an expensive bow he gifted her. The Bombshell's idea was to keep the bow, but pay him its pecuniary cost. I argued that she ought to retain the bow, that it had been a gift & if he had given such as expensive gift to a girl who would lose interest in him scant months later—because she has lost interest, she just hasn't decided when to break up with him—, well, c'set la guerre. What has this to do with Project PANDORA? Am I infatuated with The Bombshell? No, I am not. She is, as aforementioned, gorgeous, & the vilest part of my mind would love to treat her body as an amusement park, but that's as far as it goes. No, the PANDORA bit as that the fellow with whom I was manning the fundraising table wondered how I did it, how I talked so effortlessly with comely lasses. Then began a quiet but exceedingly bizarre chapter of the PANDORA saga, as I—hapless, terminally single I—attempted to disabuse the poor fellow of the mistaken, risible notion that I have any "game," much less game worth emulating, while simultaneously trying to convince him that he probably has more game than he thinks he does, if only he could, like the Cowardly Lion, find his courage. The poor lad's a twig now, but not so long ago he was a fat buddy & he still has a fat buddy's lack of self-assurance. How did I do it? How did I get past the fear & self-doubt? I struggled to explain that I hadn't conquered those demons, not entirely, I'd just made the staggeringly simple discovery that rejection wasn't nearly so awful as I'd feared, certainly far less awful than the loneliness that was the natural consequence of a paralyzing fear of rejection. No Casanova am I, treasured readers, as you know only too well, but the chap had gotten it into his head, merely from the breezy way in which I chatted & flirted with The Bombshell, that I must know what I'm doing. I'm not comfortable playing Ben Kenobi to his lovelorn Luke Skywalker, but the poor sap was asking for my help; what else could I do but help to the best of my meager ability? Coming to me for guidance on how to woo a girl must mean you've hit rock bottom. The good news about hitting rock bottom? There's nowhere to go but up.

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
William Shatner (& Brad Paisley), "Real" from Has Been (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: "Closing Time" by Semisonic was mentioned by The Bombshell in the portion of our conversation that concerned one-hit wonders, but the parallels betwixt "Real" & my surreal turn as a relationship coach could be neither denied nor ignored.

"I have saved the world in the movies,
So, naturally, there's folks who think I must know what to do.
But just because you've seen me on your T.V.
Doesn't mean I'm any more enlightened than you…

I'd love to help the world in all its problems,
But I'm an entertainer, and that's all.
So, the next time there's an asteroid or a natural disaster
I'm flattered that you thought of me, but I'm not the guy to call."

I'm not the guy to call. Really.

The Explorers' Club
№ CCLXXII - The bathyscaphe Trieste & Project NEKTON, the conquest of the Challenger Deep.







The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
The Hippos, "So Lonely" from Forget the World (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: Perhaps my favorite characteristic of third wave ska/ska-punk is the juxtaposition of peppy melodies with sad lyrics, a smile & snarky cynicism barely glossing over a profound, persistent gloom. The masters of this were & are the Reel Big Fish, but in their now-bygone time The Hippos were no slouches, though "So Lonely" is perhaps not the best example of those peppy melodies.

You're no idea how thrilled I was to be able to shovel snow from the driveway this morning. I say that without the slightest trace of irony. I've missed the winter, "the dark, killing winter," like a drowning man misses dry land. The snow! The ice! The bone-chilling wind that cuts through your parka as if it wasn't even there! I enjoy immensely each of these things & have been by & large denied their splendor all this long, pathetically warm & sunny winter. I know this won't last, that the misaligned jetstream will soon enough return us to the abominable warmth, but for a few days at least my beloved winter is here & I am so very, very happy.

Project GLOWWORM
As much as I love both winter & my whiskers, & as much as I reveled in today's snowy wonderland, icicles in my bear & my moustache are no fun at all. Through two winters, I've not devised a way around the problem. In the same fashion, though I have breakfast cereal more mornings than not, I've not yet devised a method for keeping milk from soaking the lowest-hanging strands of my moustaches's flying handlebars. Small prices to pay for the day-in & day-out pleasure of the whiskers, but prices to pay nonetheless.

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
The New Main Street Singers, "The Good Book Song" from A Mighty Wind: The Album (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: "It's scary, but it's true…"

The Queue
Some of the short stories in Hauntings were magnificent triumphs, others were spectacular failures & utter wastes of time. I discovered authors whose works I wish to investigate further & authors whom I would not read again for love or money. Overall, I was reminded that I greatly prefer to the novel to the short story, prizing the virtues of the longer form. Still, I declare Hauntings a success as an experiment.

Recently
Hergé, The Adventures of Tintin: The Calculus Affair, The Red Sea Sharks, & Tintin in Tibet
Hergé, The Adventures of Tintin: The Castafiore Emerald, Flight 714, & Tintin and the Picaros
Henry Mazzeo, editor, & Edward Gorey, illustrator, Hauntings: Tales of the Supernatural

Currently
Edgar Rice Burroughs, Tarzan of the Apes

Presently
H. Rider Haggard, King Solomon's Mines
David Ignatius, Body of Lies
Len Deighton, City of Gold

The Rebel Black Dot Songs of the Day
Fountains of Wayne, "Valley Winter Song" from Welcome Interstate Managers (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: Snow, clouds, ice, at long last.

"What else is new? What can I do,
But sing this valley winter song I wrote for you?"

Donnerstag, 9 Februar
Brian Carpenter's Ghost Train Orchestra, "Ghost Train (Orchestra)" from Hothouse Stomp: The Music of 1920s Chicago and Harlem (T.L.A.M.)

Happy Birthday!
Warmest wishes for the happiest of birthdays to the most enigmatic of all my kith, The Ace! If ever you hear that I've relocated to Thailand to open a Mexican-style cantina called El Norteamericano, you'll know that The Ace & I are up to no good & looking for trouble. In the meantime, I'm reading his manuscript of the Project TROIKA novel & looking forward to an illustrious career in letters as his collaborator. Incidentally, The Ace is either the smartest or the second-smartest person with whom I've ever been acquainted. Happy birthday, Jon!

Project PANDORA
This afternoon, whilst walking about campus in the—at long last—bone-chilling cold in the company of Ska Army, he told me that he'd taken my advice & asked out April May June, an eager young photojournalist for the campus rag whom I met a few weeks back the last time I saw The Loose Ties at the Soggy Bottom (she was on assignment, taking snapshots of the band). April May June is cute as a button, one of those girls who still looks like she's sixteen well into her twenties, & I well understand Ska Army's interest. He made what I regard as a fairly obvious blunder, not in asking her out but in asking her out for Valentine's Day. Of what would I accuse Ska Army? Overreach, I suppose. Asking a girl to go out with you for the first time on Valentine's Day has to be setting yourself up for failure. (Perhaps I shouldn't judge, as Ska Army has had two comely girlfleshes in the time I've known him, compared to my none, but I will judge, because I remain confident in my reasoning.) I reassured him that he'd made the right move, that it was better to ask a girl out & be rejected than to delay & pine & end up never casting the die. I then jested that with his rejection the field was open for my advances, using a tone & phrasing that set us both about a good laugh.

The question is, Should I make a move on April May June? I think not. We hit it off at the Soggy Bottom & I am attracted to her insofar as she's {a} a girl & {b} a cute girl, but I'm not infatuated with her. My instincts have often lead me astray & perhaps I should ignore them, but I cannot; deaf & blind as they are, they're still the best tools I've got. But if not April May June, whom? Who are my current prospects? It's fair to say that PANDORA is in the doldrums. There's nothing for it but to shake out the rust & shake off the winter's lethargy. If there aren't any intriguing lasses in my everyday orbits, it's time to resume using ye older interwebs to cast a wider net. Plenty o' fish in the sea, as they say. Ahoy, ladies!

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Elvis Costello & The Attractions, "Radio, Radio" from This Year's Model (T.L.A.M.)

Project MERCATOR
In a rare midweek outing, & a reunion with chums of longstanding, I rode down to Great Lakes Crossing with Daddy Dylweed, & we were joined there by the Anonymous Friend for dinner & a motion picture, The Grey. 'Twas delightful seeing them both, though once the film Cowboys & Aliens was mentioned my mind kept casting back to last summer & a date with The Redhead, when I saw the mediocre film at her insistence. The circumstances of today's reunion were less than ideal, but such is life; when given lemons, make lemonade.

Also, this morning I awoke to a report on the radio about the wolf population in Michigan. It seems that most of the wolves are in the vast wilderness of the Upper Peninsula ("the U.P."), but some have made their unholy way down to the Lower Peninsula ("the Mitten"). Yeah, so even in downtown Flint I'm going to be paranoid about wolves for the next few days; not perhaps the most auspicious day on which to have seen The Grey.

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Flogging Molly, "Every Dog Has Its Day" from Swagger (T.L.A.M.)

The Explorers' Club
№ CCLXXI - The Marianas Trench, including the Challenger Deep, the deepest point on the Earth's surface.







Project MERCATOR
This Super Bowl Sunday (or, as our guest priest pointed out at Mass, the Fifth Sunday of Ordinary Time), I found myself in the horns of a dilemma. I'd received invitations to two discrete Super Bowl parties, but the dilemma was not in deciding which to attend (one was in Grand Blanc & the other in Lapeer, past B.F.E.); rather, not being a fan of the No Fun League, whyever should I want to watch Super Bowl XLVI? (Aside from a fondness for Roman numerals that will surprise no regular reader of "The Explorers' Club," that is.) In the end, in clear violation of Project MERCATOR's strictures, I stayed home. I made good use of my hermitage, though, watching This is Spinal Tap, laughing & laughing & laughing…

Obamboozled
President Obama left United States allies the Czech Republic & the Republic of Poland twisting in the wind over ballistic missile defense in order to foster his prized "reset" of relations with the Russian Federation. Later, in order to curry favor with the People's Republic of China (P.R.C.), Mr. Obama declined to put American defense industry workers back on the job when he refused permission for Taiwan (the Republic of China) to purchase vast quantities of weapons from the U.S. The fruits of the president's suborning of American security & economic interests to generate goodwill with Moscow & Beijing? The Russian Federation & the P.R.C. vetoed an already watered-down United Nations Security Council resolution concerning the ongoing civil strife in the Syrian Arab Republic: veto-link.

Normally, the title of this feature, "Obamboozled," refers to the way in which then-Senator Obama bamboozled so many non-hardcore left-wing voters into supporting his '08 campaign. In this specific instance, though, it perhaps more rightly reflects the way in which the Russians & the Chinese bamboozled President Obama & Mrs. Clinton, his hapless Secretary of State, tricking them into making vital compromises of American interests & American values in exchange for empty promises & all-too-predictable betrayals. He who Obamboozled has himself been Obamboozled. I'd guffaw but for all the innocent Syrian blood shed.

Vote for Kodos
Misfortune befell me today insofar as I found myself engaged in a political discussion with a wretched Libertarian, a supporter of Representative Ron Paul's bid for the Republican presidential nomination. (He was not especially wretched, beyond the de rigueur wretchedness of all that misbegotten ilk.) Our discussion was fairly grounded in reality until he got to the "real reasons" for the Iraq War & the recent Western intervention in the Libyan civil war: in 2003, Saddam Hussein was about to start selling petroleum in euros; in 2011, Muammar Gaddafi was about to begin selling petroleum in a "gold-backed pan-African currency." Wow. A slow, ironic wow. You never have to dig too deeply into the beliefs of a Paul supporter before you find the break from reality. The misfortune ended shortly thereafter when I was able to make a lucky escape.

I strenuously wish those duplicitous Libertarians would go back to their own screwball party & stop pretending to be Republicans. I want my G.O.P. back, you rat finks!

CADMUS
Operation VAUXHALL is back in effect, & so far so good.

The Queue
There is a noticeable decline in the quality of The Adventures of Tintin at the end of the series, specifically in Flight 714 & Tintin and the Picaros. I'm confident that much more goodness awaits in the early & middle adventures, based on the strength of Cigars of the Pharaoh & Tintin in Tibet. For now, back to ghost (short) stories.

Recently
Stephen Weiner, Jason Hall, & Victoria Blake, illustrated by Mike Mignola, et al., Hellboy: The Companion
Hergé, The Adventures of Tintin: The Calculus Affair, The Red Sea Sharks, & Tintin in Tibet
Hergé, The Adventures of Tintin: The Castafiore Emerald, Flight 714, & Tintin and the Picaros

Currently
Henry Mazzeo, editor, & Edward Gorey, illustrator, Hauntings: Tales of the Supernatural

Presently
Edgar Rice Burroughs, Tarzan of the Apes
H. Rider Haggard, King Solomon's Mines
David Ignatius, Body of Lies
Len Deighton, City of Gold

The Rebel Black Dot Songs of the Day
Fountains of Wayne, "The Girl I Can't Forget" from Out-of-State Plates, Disc Two (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: One of my very favorite songs. I will need The Last Angry Bride, whether I've met her & just not yet realized who she is or our paths have not yet crossed, to have the sense of fun & generosity of spirit of the titular girl.

Sonntag, 5 Februar
Spinal Tap, "(Tonight I'm Gonna) Rock You Tonight" from This is Spinal Tap (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: I am a persnickety chap, insisting on ångström instead of angstrom, for example, but I cannot countenance the "official" spelling of Spinal Tap due both to the ridiculous & ungrammatical umlaut over the "n" & the lack of a dot over the "i". The characters are so outlandishly unreal—which is the point of them, yes, I know—that even when I cut & pasted that spelling of Spinal Tap into this post's H.T.M.L., it would not display properly on the published post. The R.B.D.S.O.T.D. was a toss-up between "(Tonight I'm Gonna) Rock You Tonight" & "Big Bottom," because I do love that bass line.

Samstag, 4 Februar
Flogging Molly, "Devil's Dance Floor" from Swagger (T.L.A.M.)

My Macintosh is no longer able to connect reliably to the house's wireless internet. My Macintosh's wireless modem, Airport, can occasionally find the house's network, but the network will then immediately disappear from the menu. At other times, Airport is entirely unable to find the network. I do not know if the fault is in the network—which has been glitchy in the past, sometimes failing for days at a time only to be restored to functionality without any intervention—or in Airport itself, which went on the fritz not long before my Macintosh crashed & burned a couple years hence. In either event, I've dug my old cable out of storage & connected my Macintosh to the house's modem physically. Only time will tell if this wireless outage is temporary or permanent.

Project MERCATOR | Project PANDORA
I ran into Jojo on Wednesday & she was looking particularly delectable. A host of good reasons remain why not even to attempt to pursue her romantically, & I abide by my decision to be nothing other than her friend, but not everything I feel for her is strictly… friendly. *insert wolfish grin here*

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Golem, "Citizen Boris" from Citizen Boris (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: "Boris Hoffman, you are now a citizen of the United States, so help you God."

Operation AXIOM
Happy Groundhog Day, treasured readers! Punxsutawney Phil prognosticated six more weeks of winter this morn, though the "more" part is risible in the midst of this, the worst winter ever. Temperatures have been in the forties more often than they've been in the twenties, & in the fifties at least twice every fortnight. This winter is a disgrace. Let us hope that the Inner Circle aren't just blow smoke, because these next six weeks are the last chance we have for the ill-fated Winter of 2011-12.

All I ask is everything in its season. I don't ask for cool summers, I ask only that Summer's heat be confined to the period of May through September. I ask not for winter is July, I ask only for winter in its season. Come on, Aeolus, let's not make a liar out of Phil!

Also on the theme of better late than never...

The Victors: 2012 Sugar Bowl Champions
(№ 13) Michigan 23-20 Virginia Tech. (№ 11) (O.T.)
11-2, Big Ten 6-2

My father & I watched the Sugar Bowl at a family friend's house, because that evening(3 January 2012) my mother was hosting her monthly bunco game at our home. Our host, Bob, a casual football fan, was unfamiliar with the, shall we say, unconventional play of the valiant Wolverines. I do not deny that watching the valiant Wolverines under the leadership of junior quarterback Denard "Shoelace" Robinson is often frustrating, sometimes infuriating, & very much unlike watching almost any other football squad. My father in particular railed against Shoelace's "fundamentally unsound" play, continuing at such length & with such venom that at last I had had enough & struck back viciously, reminding him of the habitual futility in which his alma mater, Purdue, labors on the gridiron, & pointing out the utter unfairness of his comparing the valiant Wolverines to the New England Patriots, an elite squad even amongst the other teams at the pinnacle of American football, the N.F.L. But as I reminded my father & instructed Bob, the paramount thing to keep in mind is that Shoelace & the boys get the job done far more often than not. The valiant Wolverines might not be pretty, but they are winners, this year prevailing in eleven out of thirteen contests (a feat unequaled anywhere in the annals of ill-starred Boilermaker football). If fans can never be sure what to expect from Michigan, neither can the Maize & Blue's opponents. There is much to be said for aesthetics, much to be said for conforming to the traditional view of fundamentally sound football, but at the end of the day we are Americans, & as Americans we embrace General MacArthur's words about war, applying them to virtually all circumstances: "there is no substitute for victory." The valiant Wolverines played inconsistently, & downright poorly for long stretches of the game against the epithetless Hokies, but well enough to thwart Virginia Tech. time & again. Shoelace was at his improvisational best when the valiant Wolverines needed points, showing the signature flair of making something from nothing that has endeared him to every Michigan man. In the end, special teams play was the margin of victory, something that would have been unimaginable under Coach Rodriguez, who neglected the specials teams as severely as he did the defense. The Sugar Bowl might have been disappointing to anyone who thought Brady Hoke's arrival would mark an immediately return to the days of yore, to "three yards & a cloud of dust," but it was the perfect send-off for the 2011 squad of the valiant Wolverines. Well done, men! "The team, the team, the team."

In the final poll, released after the appallingly dull "B.C.S. Bowl," Michigan was № 12, Virginia Tech № 21. (As always, we here at The Secret Base adhere to the Associated Press poll, even if the Coaches' Poll rates the valiant Wolverines more highly.) Eleven wins, a B.C.S. bowl, a bowl victory, &, best of all, a reunified Maize & Blue faithful. "This is Michigan," indeed.

Go Blue!

The Queue
Recently
Hergé, The Adventures of Tintin In the Land of the Soviets & Cigars of the Pharaoh
Stephen Weiner, Jason Hall, & Victoria Blake, illustrated by Mike Mignola, et al., Hellboy: The Companion
Hergé, The Adventures of Tintin: The Calculus Affair, The Red Sea Sharks, & Tintin in Tibet

Currently
Henry Mazzeo, ed., & Edward Gorey, illustrator, Hauntings: Tales of the Supernatural
Hergé, The Adventures of Tintin: The Castafiore Emerald, Flight 714, & Tintin and the Picaros

Presently
Edgar Rice Burroughs, Tarzan of the Apes
H. Rider Haggard, King Solomon's Mines
David Ignatius, Body of Lies
Len Deighton, City of Gold

The Rebel Black Dot Song of Groundhog Day
Reel Big Fish, "'Til I Hit the Ground" from Monkeys For Nothin' and the Chimps For Free (T.L.A.M.)

The Explorers Club
№ CCLXX - The Giant's Causeway, Northern Ireland.







The Giant's Causeway is in Northern Ireland, a constituent nation of the United Kingdom. My recent visit to the Emerald Isle was to the Republic of Ireland & I did not see the Giant's Causeway, alas.

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Allister, "Fraggle Rawk" from Dead Ends and Girlfriends (T.L.A.M.)