Urbi et Orbi
The Christ is risen! Happy Easter, dear readers! The heavy lifting of salvation was done on Good Friday, when the Christ died on the cross for all our sins, but His resurrection on Easter is what made concrete His hard-won victory over the grave, the triumph of the life everlasting over death. On this day of days, may the voices of the Church Militant, the Church Penitent, & the Church Triumphant be united in the endless song of praise. The Christ is risen! Whosoever believes in Him shall not die, but will live forever. The Christ is risen! Alleluia! Alleluia, I say unto thee!

The Explorers' Club
№ CCLXXXII - The myth of the Loch Ness Monster.







Project MERCATOR
I went to The Machine Shop on Friday to see, quite out of character, a hard rock show. I went principally to play bodyguard to April May June, who'd been assigned to review the evening's entertainment for the campus rag & who was, given her soft-spoken nature & appearance as a wide-eyed innocent, reluctant to go alone. (The Machine Shop is located on the infamous Dort Highway, the local "wretched hive of scum & villainy," just south of the strip clubs. Yeah, eww.) That The Interpreter, herself a fan of hard rock, was going to be there also was a strong secondary inducement. I met The Interpreter & her sister in the parking lot just after the doors opened, but while they went inside & walked next door to Big John's Steak & Onion, where April May June was interviewing the headlining band's manager. We stayed there about an hour, & after the manager left were joined by her other bodyguard for the evening, an enormous, friendly chap named Gabe. We entered The Machine Shop & I was admitted as April May June's journalistic plus-one. We took a table, were joined by The Interpreter & her sister, & proceeded to wait 'til nearly ten o'clock for the first band to go on. Conversation was difficult due to the music blaring over the P.A., coordinated with videos being played on a halo of televisions around the interior. I understand why a show has to be loud, but why does the background beforehand not stay in the background? What is the business advantage of thwarting your customers from conversing easily?

The first band, Atom Smash, was laughable. I snickered & struggled to suppress a full-blown chortle when the singer started screaming. It was hilarious, though the hard rock fans around me didn't share that appraisal. The second band, Edisun, were utterly forgettable. The headliners, Bobaflex, started off on a high note, there first song bursting off the stage as if fired out of a cannon; they couldn't sustain that energy, but there had a real stage presence & put on a highly entertaining show, one I wouldn't have minded paying a nominal fee to see. April May June worked during the music, taking pictures of the bands from around the periphery & on the stage itself, privileged access due to her reporter's credentials. (All publicity is good publicity.) With her occupied, I was able to join The Interpreter in standing at the foot of the stage. I stayed for only the first two songs of each of the first two bands, retreating to our table to sip my Heineken, but stayed with her throughout Bobaflex, of whom she's an ardent fan. Sometimes I clasped my arms around her waist, sometimes I rested my hands on her hips, sometimes I disengaged entirely to assume a combat stance when a thrashing mosh pit broke out, ready to use a pointed elbow to stand my ground. Several times she reached out to hold my hand, & turned around to kiss me briefly. The most curious part of the whole exercise was how we just stood there. We all just stood there, except for the periodic thrashers. The crowd writhed slightly & many hands were thrust into the air to make the rock sign, but that was it. No one danced. How could anyone dance to that rubbish? I sent imploring text messages to K. Steeze, The Guy, & The Ace, asking what was the point of music to which you could not dance. Both The Guy & K. Steeze shared my befuddlement.

My second least favorite thing about The Machine Shop is the volume to which the speakers are attuned. If ever I again visit, I shall first invest in earplugs. The Interpreter & her sister both complained of "concert ear" the next day, too. My least favorite thing about The Machine Shop is the no re-entrance policy; if you walk out the door, you have to pay a second cover fee to get back in. The tyrannical aspect of this policy is that the club doesn't serve any food, it is a bar & a concert venue only, leading to famished patrons on both of my visits. When April May June was ready to leave I had a duty to see her safely to her motorcar, so I disengaged my arm from around The Interpreter's waste, removed her hand from my knee, & said I had to escort April May June outside. The significance of this didn't seem to occur to her, & she lingered as I left. I texted that I'd wait around the parking lot for a few minutes, but not for too long; it was a cold night for which I was unequipped, & I didn't wish to hang around such insalubrious environs. A few minutes after I left she texted back that she was about to leave, then rued the fact that we'd been unable to kiss good night. Well, yes, that was precisely what I'd attempted to impart to her earlier, inside the club, but at the time she was distracted looking around for more band members to assail. Her regret wasn't as nice as the kiss would've been, but it wasn't a bad consolation prize.

I returned home in the wee hours of the morning & woke up earlier on Saturday than I'd have liked in order to volunteer at the new Flint Local 432. The Rash, who earned my everlasting devotion when he allowed Blue Tree Whacking to use the old Local for our musical & cinematic shenanigans around the turn of the millennium, organized a small cadre of the tattooed (including me) & the hooded sweatshirt-wearing (not me) to clean up the new Local. While some painted, a few others & I swept up a very dusty side room, the door closed to keep the dust from getting into the paint next door. We swept that room twice over & made much progress, but it could have used a third sweep & a mopping. After a lunch break at the nearby Wize Guys Pizza while the paint dried, we swept out & washed the main room. I'd never before pushed so much water with a push broom. I can't say it fostered any desire to be a sailor swabbing endless decks. The space looked better when we left than it had when we arrived, but there's still much to do before the Flint Local 432 opens, in just a few short weeks. I wish I'd volunteered sooner, wish I'd done more. I shan't permit such regrets going forward, as I will place myself at The Rash's disposal to aid the Local however I can; I see the Local as an inspiration for & an expression of the spirit of Project MERCATOR.

This Week in Motorsport
Indy Rock
This afternoon, I watched a tape recording of last weekend's Honda Indy Grand Prix of Alabama, the second race on the 2012 calendar of the Izod IndyCar Series. My principle critiques of IndyCar last year, in which I had only a most lukewarm interest, were my bored incomprehension of oval-track racing & that IndyCar was a "spec series," meaning every competitor drove essentially the same car. The 'Bama race was on the road course at the Barber Motorsports Park, solving for the nonce the oval problem. IndyCar introduced a new chassis in the off-season, dubbed the "DW12" in honor of the late Dan Wheldon, who did much of the development driving & who was killed in last year's IndyCar season finale (Wayback Machine). The DW12, whilst brand-new, is a universal chassis used by every IndyCar team, much in the vein of last year's car, but there is the promise that from next year teams will be allowed to use a variety of customizable "aero kits" in pursuit individual advantage. Also, for the DW12 multiple engine manufacturers have been invited into the sport, ending Honda's monopoly. Around two-fifths of the field still use Honda power, with around two-fifths using Chevrolet engines & the remainder using Lotus engines.

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day: SKApril
Pushover, "Yo Se" from Mailorder is Still Fun!! (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: SKApril '11 featured thirty songs in thirty days by thirty different ska bands, & yet still didn't exhaust my music library's selection of ska bands. For SKApril '12 I'm alternating returning bands from '11 with those who, due no fault of their own but only the limited length of April, weren't featured last year. After yesterday's R.B.D.S.O.T.D. by ska-punk stalwarts Mu330, today we spotlight Pushover, another band from the Asian Man Records stable. Pushover is inconsistently a ska band on the album, Logic & Loss, but "Yo Se" is undeniably third-wave ska.