The Explorers Club
No. LXXXIII - The Berlin Blockade, Part II: The audacity of the Airlift, the fun and goodwill of Operation Little Vittles, and the Soviet-approved loophole that made it all possible.








As a general rule, I avoid using the same images that appear as part of a given topic's Wikipedia entry (which I assume is the paramount resource for most of you who avail yourselves of The Explorers Club), but in this case the entry had the simply best representation of the Anglo-American air corridors into free West Berlin.

Zooey Deschanel Appreciation Day
Though I have not yet compiled an official list of the ten worst films I have ever seen, I am confident The Happening is among them.



Lots of people seem to misunderstand the nature of Parker Posey Appreciation Day, Zooey Deschanel Appreciation Day, and the fascination that prompts both commemorations. I have never sat down and had a conversation with anyone about these two occasions; so, whatever I say to describe the general attitude toward the Appreciation Days is based upon my own gleanings and interpretations of remarks made around, about, or seemingly in reference to those days in celebration of Parker Posey or Zooey Deschanel. Also, as I have, as previously mentioned, never elucidated the natures of P.P.A.D. and Z.D.A.D., I have only myself to blame for any confusion or misconceptions and write what is to follow with malice towards none.

I am not "in love" with Parker Posey, nor with Zooey Deschanel. However, I find both actresses* absolutely fascinating. Fascination can be a highly nebulous term; so, what is my meaning? Flat out, Parker Posey is the most interesting player (regardless of gender) in the American cinema. At any moment, she might very well do anything. Have you ever seen an interview with her? The lady is batshit crazy, a screwball, as loony as Daffy Duck's original personality. And at least from where I sit, no matter the character she is playing, that madcap frenzy is just beneath the surface, barely contained. And with the following I intent to impugn the acting ability of neither Sam Elliott nor Parker Posey: you don't hire Sam Elliott to act, you hire Sam Elliott to be Sam Elliott. You want to hear that voice, that glorious rumble with the pitch-perfect western twang. You want to see those stoic features, that face that greets both triumph and disaster as the impostors they are (thanks, Mr. Kipling!). Parker Posey is like Sam Elliott, you don't hire her to act, you hire her because you want her character to always be just that one half-step removed from gleeful madness. You want any actress who can go from sedate to stark-raving in a blink should it strike her fancy.

Each of Zooey Deschanel's characters, even the extroverted ones, seem to be on the verge of collapsing in upon herself in an implosion of shyness. She never, ever looks comfortable on screen. And again, I am not impugning her abilities as a thespian, because clearly as an actress and musician any shyness innate to her being must have been by this point beaten down as locked away in favor of either am ambition of that peculiar mania that forces some to act, some to sing, some to write, almost against their will. I find her ability to simultaneously project confidence and nervous terror enthralling.

In the spirit of frank discourse, I cannot deny being attracted to Parker Posey and Zooey Deschanel. And I say this with no shame. I mean, by Bog, have you seen them? They are stunning creatures, sylphs of surpassing beauty. And yet my appreciation for the loveliness of each is influenced by her individual charms. Even when perfectly still, Parker Posey seems poised for an explosion. No matter the photographer or style of image, Zooey Deschanel always looks slightly unsettled. They are ladies of supreme comeliness, but this is merely the beginning of their mesmerizing mystery.

By contrast, I am in lust with Hilary Duff. The tale: A month ago, I was riding in the Senator's Daughter on the return trip from Saint Louis (the "Matrimania" accounts, both D.C. and Saint Louis, are coming, as is the too-long delayed conclusion to "The Wedding Album," I give you my word) when my companion, the driver, manipulated his iPod and selected a very surprising string of songs, by the likes of Kelly Clarkson, Shakira, and Hilary Duff, among others. These songs were all present in his library as singles, not a one of them as part of an album; so, I understood possession of them, though of course we engaged in a great deal of good-natured taunting. When the maddeningly repetitive song "Beat of My Heart" began, I asked by whom it was sung as was told Hilary Duff, which prompted me to say, for no particular reason, "I've never found her attractive. I don't get it." He replied, "She's pretty cute in the video for this song."

Some hours later, after the Accursed Sun had ceased it pitiless bombardment and we were hurtling through the darkness in pursuit of the narrow beams of the Senator's daughter's headlights, something about his comment caught in my mind and I maneuvered through the menus to watch the video for "Beat of My Heart." And immediately I saw what he meant. Suddenly, Hilary Duff was no longer plain, she had become a vision. A month on and I cannot shake her. In truth, I've no desire to do so. Mock me if you wish. Were you in my place I'd be merciless and cruel, and as such, as a firm believer in the Golden Rule, I expect no better treatment. Do your worst.



For my part, I will be scheming for ways to parlay** Project TROIKA's eventual success into an encounter with Ms. Duff, whom I will then proceed to charm, woo, and win for mine own.

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Hilary Duff, "Beat of My Heart" via iTunes (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: In the words of Hedonism-bot, "I apologize for nothing!"

Sonntag, 29 Juni
R.E.M., "The Great Beyond" from Man On the Moon: Music from the Motion Picture (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: Silly yet haunting. Their intention, I'm sure.

"I'm breaking through,
I'm bending spoons,
I'm keeping flowers in full bloom,
I'm look for answers
From the Great Beyond."

*Someday, I'll explain to you why "actress" is not, as some have ignorantly claimed, a sexist term, at least not in the negative sense.

**Remember, kids, best not to confuse parlay with parley.

"Voyage of the Damned"

"Partners in Crime"
"The Fires of Pompeii"
"Planet of the Ood"
"The Sontaran Stratagem" Pt. 1
"The Poison Sky" Pt. 2
"The Doctor's Daughter"
"The Unicorn and the Wasp"
"Silence in the Library" Pt. 1
"Forest of the Dead" Pt. 2
(cont'd)

The Rebel Black Dot Songs of the Day
Real Can of Yams, "Lobster of Truth (Wanted Me for Him)" from Good or Suck! (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: Words by M. Wilson.

Freitag, 27 Juni
Smokey Robinson & the Miracles, "The Tracks of My Tears" via iTunes (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: Ah, Smokey....

Special Request
I am to be proscribed from speaking my mind even in mine own house? I have racked my brain for any way to interpret these events to cast myself as the villain, without success. What could I have possibly done to be deserving of such disrespect? No matter. Nemo me inpune lacessit.

The Rebel Black Dot Songs of the Day
We the Kings, "Check Yes Juliet" via iTunes, Single of the Week (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: By Jove, by the by-laws of the mother tongue, the title should be rendered as "Check Yes, Juliet"! And yet there is a startling lack of anger throughout the Anglosphere. Weep for our posterity.

Mittwoch, 25 Juni
They Might Be Giants, "Hey, Mr. DJ, I Thought You Said We Had a Deal" from Then: The Earlier Years, Disc Two (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: One of Then's little known gems.

The Stars My Destination
Here is a interestingly pro-Beijing piece about the Chinese space program: celestiallink. Mind that I've got nothing against the China National Space Administration beyond the fact that it is an arm of the People's Republic of China, a bloody-handed dictatorship that has ground the Chinese people under its heel for the last fifty-nine years. That said, I do most certainly wish all taikonauts a safe journey from the earth to the heavens and back.

The first American to "walk" in space, in 1965 (that's forty-three years ago for all you Red Chinese apologists out there), was Ed White (1930-67), a Michigan man, who tragically perished in the Apollo 1 disaster.

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Barenaked Ladies, "The Big Bang Theory Theme" via iTunes (Dr. Hee Haw)

Commentary: My thanks to the good doctor for the nomination. And while I am not a regular viewer of The Big Bang Theory, I have enjoyed those episodes I've seen.

The Stars My Destination
Documentary
When We Left Earth: The N.A.S.A. Missions
In the Shadow of the Moon

Dramatization
Apollo 13
From the Earth to the Moon

I have been remiss, my friends, I missed STS-124 in its entirety: Stationlink. Though I sorely wish Apollos 18, 19, and 20 had gone to the Moon as originally planned, and that we had continued to push manned spaceflight beyond the boundaries of low Earth orbit, I will never hold with those naysayers who claim we have squandered the last three and a half decades to no purpose. The Space Shuttle is the wonder of the age, and even before it is completed the International Space Station is already a marvel.

And speaking of marvels and wonders of the age, next up is STS-125, the latest servicing mission to the most amazing scientific instrument known to Man, the august Hubble Space Telescope: Hubblelink.

Science!
Phoenix has joined our robotic Corps of Discovery! N.A.S.A.link and B.B.C.link. And after the joy and celebration of a safe arrival, the work, the advancement of the frontiers of science, begins: icelink.

Elsewhere on the Red Planet, M2K4 has become M2K8 as Opportunity and Spirit roll on, years and years past their initially planned 90-day lifespans: roverlink. magnificent old warhorses, those two.

And lest you think our mechanical minions are merely on Mars, the groundwork is being laid for Project Constellation's return to the Moon: Lunarlink.

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
They Might Be Giants, "Nightgown of the Sullen Moon" from Then: The Earlier Years, Disc Two (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: Tonight, an oblique reference to the Moon that has so entranced me over the last three Sundays of When We Left Earth and tonight's broadcast of In the Shadow of the Moon.

Between now and the morrow, I hope to dream of our return to the Moon.

The Explorers Club
No. LXXXII - The Berlin Blockade, Part I: The genocidal Morgenthau Plan; the drift from alliance into the Cold War; and the sneaky, fully legal beginning to the blockade of West Berlin.






The ball got rolling with the closing of the Autobahn on 12 June 1948, sixty years ago this month.

Special Request
There are plans for a house guest and I to watch the new Futurama movie, The Beast With a Billion Backs Tuesday evening. He'll be staying from Tuesday until Thursday. It all will be wonderful, but expect me to be in a dark humor next week as I ruminate on the recent unpleasantness, about which I am damnably constrained from writing freely. Still, new Futurama! Woot!

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Fountains of Wayne, "Stacy's Mom" from Welcome Interstate Managers (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: I'll always remember attending a Fountains of Wayne show at The Shelter in Detroit mere months before the release of "Stacy's Mom" and Welcome Interstate Managers. The Shelter is literally the basement of St. Andrew's Hall (a former name for The Shelter was The Bassment) and accommodates a crowd numbering in the scores. Not hundreds or thousands of people, scores. And before "Stacy's Mom," that's the kind of crowd F.O.W. attracted.

Also of note: that remains one of the only shows I've ever attended in which I was one of the youngest members of the audience. I didn't start attending shows until I was 19, and by then I was already older than a lot of the kids in the pit. The folks at The Shelter, though, they were clearly old school Fountains of Wayne fans, some of them surely stretching all the way back to the debut album, Fountains of Wayne, released in '96.

Plus, let us not forget, "Stacy's Mom" is a great song.

Samstag, 21 Juni
Reel Big Fish, "Cannibal" from Money's For Nothin' and the Chimp's For Free (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: Upon first listen, I thought they were singing "Cannon ball." Not nearly as embarrassing as when I believed, for years, that the They Might Be Giants song "Don't Let's Start" contained the words "Donut star." Then again, with T.M.B.G., "Donut star" isn't all that far-fetched.

"Voyage of the Damned"

"Partners in Crime"
"The Fires of Pompeii"
"Planet of the Ood"
"The Sontaran Stratagem" Pt. 1
"The Poison Sky" Pt. 2
"The Doctor's Daughter"
"The Unicorn and the Wasp"
"Silence in the Library" Pt. 1
(cont'd)

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Barenaked Ladies, "One Week" from Stunt (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: On this first official day of Summer, even though we all know that Summer really begins on Memorial Day, what better song than that which so thoroughly dominated and perfectly exemplified the summer of '98? It's been said before about many things and will surely be said again about many other things, but it's damned hard to believe that was ten years ago. Wow.

The live version of "One Week," from Talk to the Hand: Live in Michigan, was previously the R.B.D.S.O.T.D. And yes, I mention that in large part simply for the opportunity to type R.B.D.S.O.T.D.

The Rebel Black Dot Songs of the Day
Elvis Costello, "Little Triggers" from This Year's Model (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: I don't even really like "Little Triggers," it just played in my head over and over again this late afternoon and evening whilst I mowed the lawn. I suppose there's nothing in the unwritten Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day charter that requires the R.B.D.S.O.T.D. to be a well-loved song, just the song of - a tiny word and yet able to carry so very many potential meanings - the day. In all its lack of glory.

Mittwoch, 18 Juni
Cyd Charisse, "Baby You Knock Me Out" via iTunes (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: From the motion picture It's Always Fair Weather, the only Gene Kelly picture I've seen from beginning to end. And though this was my only exposure to the recently deceased Cyd Charisse, I have to agree with the opening lyrics from "Baby You Knock Me Out":

"What a dame, what a dame,
She belongs in the Hall of Fame!"

The Explorers Club
No. LXXXI - The Montgolfier bros., Joseph-Michel (1740-1810) and Jacques-Étienne (1745-99), and their astounding flying balloons.






I have ever been fascinated by flight, but in the late couple of years most especially by the many and varied shapes and sizes of lighter-than-air craft.

Beginning next Sunday, 22 June, "The Explorers Club" will be back on its regular schedule. We've made up all the ground lost to the disruptions - most welcome and joyous disruptions - of Matrimania, and we've got some very special anniversary episodes coming up that I think we'll all enjoy immensely. Thank you all for your patience and continued interest.

Special Request: Escape Hatch
I did not tell my mother about The L.A.W. and Brother-in-L.A.W.'s offer of assistance should I elect to move to Washington, D.C. She heard about it in a conversation with The L.A.W. and came to me in a huff, demanding why I had not told her. Because, Mother dear, they have invited me to plunge into the political hurly-burly of our nation's capital; the last time I gave serious consideration to such a career was in the first years of my undergraduate education, when I regarded my political science major as an invaluable vocational tool. I was in the process of applying for varied summer internships when you, Mother dear, stated in your incredibly annoying way (it sounds like a hesitant question, but really its an edict) that such an internship was impractical, and I should get an anonymous summer job instead. Ever the dutiful son, I obeyed, and spent the summer as I spent so many others, lifeguarding.

Without the contacts I would have built during my internship, any internship, I had fallen off the proscribed path toward political minionship, and political science gradually morphed from serious vocational training to the subject in which I'd happened to accumulate a large number of credits. And yet, as I realized later, there was absolutely no good reason why I couldn't have gone to D.C. I didn't make that much money lifeguarding, and whatever expense went toward subsidizing my internship would have been far less than was spent a few summer's later on someone else's opera camp.

Why, then, did my mother not want me to spend a summer in Washington? I am not and will probably never be sure, but I have several theories. As this juncture, I am unwilling to undergo the emotional tumult necessary to enumerate and explore them all. Suffice it to say that I cannot think of embarking upon a career as an entry-level Republican operative without feeling considerable resentment toward my darling mother. So, when she asked me why I had not relayed to her The L.A.W. and Brother-in-L.A.W.'s offer, I told her this tale, to which she replied, "Well, we aren't talking about an unpaid internship now." Wow. Just, wow. She asked why I was reluctant to discuss this with her, and without any hesitation rejected out of hand my reasons. She demanded frankness, but refused to give it even a moment's consideration.

Honesty is a virtue, and virtue is its own reward.

Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia Michael Wilbon
I have gotten out of the habit of watching E.S.P.N.'s Pardon the Interruption after work because on Thursday, 5 June, the day after the Red Wings won the Stanley Cup, P.T.I.'s only coverage of the victory was to express their disappointment that the series had not gone seven games. Serenity, now... serenity, now.... Today, more out of a desire to resume my habit (I do so enjoy habit and routine) than a yearning for the hosts' buffoonery, I sat down and watched the entirety of Pardon the Interruption. I got exactly what I deserved for cutting those curs any slack after their dread insult to the Red Wings: Wilbon said that anyone who does not love European soccer, especially the underway Euro 2008 tournament (?), is not a sports fan.

Thank you and goodnight. I feel no need to swear an oath against P.T.I. as I did against its fantasy football-loving subsidiary Around the Horn, but I cannot envision the circumstances under which I would again watch the program before the commencement of the college football season in the Fall. And even then the margin of error will be exceedingly slight; they teeter upon the edge of an abyss from which there is no return.

The Rebel Black Dot Songs of the Day
They Might Be Giants, "Where Do They Make Balloons?" from No! (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: Balloonistan?

Montag, 16 Juni
The Honor System, "Fool's Gold" from Plea For Peace (T.L.A.M.)

For the love of Bog, whatever you do, DO NOT see The Happening. More on Wednesday, when we mark the return of our occasional celebration/feature Zooey Deschanel Appreciation Day, as well as probe the differences between Parker Posey and Zooey Deschanel Appreciation Days and the recent Duffmania.

Project TROIKA
The whole is greater than the sum of its parts. We are firing on all cylinders with, to borrow from the mad bastards behind The Venture Bros., super-cooperation!

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the day
The Ataris, "So Long, Astoria" from So Long, Astoria (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: Songs Inspired By The Goonies, Part II.

And on a personal note, I appreciate that The Ataris took the care to include the comma in both "So Long, Astoria" and So Long, Astoria. By way of contrast, there should be but is not a comma in the title of Less Than Jake's seminal Hello Rockview. It's a great album, but the hypothetical Hello, Rockview would be just that little bit superior.

"Voyage of the Damned"

"Partners in Crime"
"The Fires of Pompeii"
"Planet of the Ood"
"The Sontaran Stratagem" Pt. 1
"The Poison Sky" Pt. 2
"The Doctor's Daughter"
"The Unicorn and the Wasp"
(cont'd)

Perchance to Dream
I had two dreams this morning, both of them unusually vivid. In the first, I had my choice of which girl to "get with," still using the parlance of Superbad, Maggie Gyllenhaal or Katie Holmes. (Think I have Batman Begins and The Dark Knight on my mind?) I chose Ms. Gyllenhaal without hesitation. The resulting encounter was far more graphic than is usual for my sex dreams. Honestly, I'm a little grossed out by it. Of course, given Secretary, it is no surprise that my subconscious is inclined to indulge its dirtier proclivities with this particular lovely, but still, ick.

The second was far more conventional, a family reunion... of both sides of my family. Every known Wilson, Little, and Carloni still living was in attendance at an enormous and fanciful house. I wondered from room to room, conversing with pretty much everyone. At every turn, my father followed behind and undermined me; this could be either the deep-seated resentment of mein Vater, or the random firing of synapses. I have never had interest enough to study dream interpretation and I confess to being largely ignorant of the field, but as a layman I have never been convinced that dreams have any significance. Clearly, they are influenced by our conscious minds, but this is not nearly the same thing as possessing any larger meaning for our waking lives.

The Rebel Black Dot Songs of the Day
The Aquabats!, "Adventure Today!" from Myth, Legends, and Other Amazing Adventures, Vol. 2 (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: Songs Inspired By The Goonies, Part I.

Freitag, 13 Juni
They Might Be Giants, "Turn Around" from Apollo 18 (T.L.A.M.)

The Explorers Club
No. LXXX - The architecturally odd Citigroup Center on the island of Manhattan.





The Lego model below is not entirely accurate, but it is entirely amusing.




The Buddy System
Raiders of the Lost Ark
Indiana Jones
Marion Ravenwood

Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom
Indiana Jones
Short Round
Willie Scott

Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade
Indiana Jones
Henry Jones, Sr.
Sallah
Marcus Brody

Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull
Indiana Jones
Marion Williams
Mutt Jones*
Harold Oxley
Mac McHale

Logically, then, if there is a fifth Indiana Jones film, Indy and Mutt's company will be comprised of a membership of no fewer than six.

*As Marion, who presents naming issues herself, states, Mutt was born out of wedlock as Henry Jones III three months before she began dating future R.A.F. war hero Colin Williams; so, even though Mutt introduces himself to Indy as "Mutt Williams" in the malt shop, and clearly believes himself to be the late Colin's son, it is entirely possible that his surname was never legally changed to his stepfather's. His formal name may yet remain Henry Jones III, not Henry Williams.

And even though the minister calls her Marion Ravenwood during her wedding to Indiana, there is every reason to believe that Marion's name was changed to Marion Williams upon her marriage to Colin, and remained such long into her widowhood. Perhaps when a widow remarries it is customary to reference her again by her maiden name during the ceremony? By the end of the picture I think it safe to assume that her name is now Marion Jones. (Not to be confused with the disgraced athlete-cum-steroid junkie.)

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
They Might Be Giants, "Upside Down Frown" from The Else (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: Not a song about the incredibly annoying phrase "turn that frown upside down," but the tale of a man whose smile and frown are both inverted, and the resulting social awkwardness.

Eye of the Tiger
The ridiculous humidity has returned and, being Wilsons, we are utilizing our air conditioner to the utmost. The house is cooled to that precise point where if you sit still for a half hour, you'll feel the most delightful little chill. Perfection. And then Tiger comes along, an ambitious little leg warmer. She is not a small cat, the orange blob, but she's still a cat, and thus ridiculously wee. Her heat fades in the same instant she moves, but while she remains she's so pleasantly endothermic.

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Reel Big Fish and Zolof the Rock & Roll Destroyer, "Ask" from Duet All Night Long (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary:

"Shyness is nice, and
Shyness can stop you
From doing all things in life you'd like to.
Shyness is nice, and
Shyness can stop you
From doing all the things in life you'd like to.
So if there's something you'd like to try,
Something you'd like to try,
Ask me, I won't say no,
How could I?

Coyness is nice, and
Coyness can stop you
From saying all the things in life you'd like to...."

How could I?

Glory be, the humidity broke, for at least one day.

Also, I dropped by printer off at Best Buy this morning, but the hour is later than it appears and I have an early day. There's not even really a story here, just a litany of frustrations. I know, I know, pinch yourself, you must be dreaming.

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
The Reunion Show, "...Said I" from The Motion (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: The best part of the song is the keyboard at the very beginning, but that's enough. Alas, Edna's Goldfish, we hardly knew ye.

Special Request
To deal with the dearth of television programming that typifies the summer (at least until Burn Notice and Mad Men begin their all-too-brief seasons), and not being in a humor to read, I elected to watch Superbad this evening. I received the D.V.D. for Christmas and had exhausted all the bonus features, but this was the first time I'd seen the movie since originally seeing in the theater. This was both an enormously good decision and a preposterously poor choice: enormously good in that Superbad is a hi-fucking-larious film and I laughed and laughed and laughed, even pausing the film so as not to miss the next joke or gag while laughing; preposterously poor as Superbad is, beneath all the funny funny jokes, about Evan and Seth's friendship. And I don't really have a best friend anymore, my best friend cut me out of his life in the cruelest terms possible and then had the audacity to accuse me, with a victim's pain in his voice, of shutting him out of my life. So, though I had a lovely day today except for the continuing Floridian heat and humidity, I've spent the last half hour wrangling with my pain and fury and getting those two bastards back into their corrals. Pain in my arse.

Really, though, I'm going to have to live with this betrayal for the next thirty-one years and change, and I don't want my parade continually rained upon. Perhaps a series of intentional and controlled exposures are just the ticket, exactly what I need to get a handle on things. You know, that actually sounds like a good idea. I will devise an experimental protocol at once!

The problem with a long term revenge scheme is that by nature that damn thing is years in the offing. The planning is done, the execution has been thought through to the last detail, now I just have to wait for the moment to be ripe. And you all know me, delaying gratification has never been my strong suit. But for this... I will teach myself patience. I hold in my heart the words of John Dryden:

"Beware the fury of a patient man."

Too melodramatic? All this maniacal cackling and villainous hand-rubbing has left little time for "The Stars My Destination." Standby, space cadets, the countdown is on a hold.

Project TROIKA
To this point, Steeze has been intensely focusing on one part of the overall tapestry while I've been plugging away at the remainder in a more general fashion. He has completed and transmitted to me the first draft of his labors, which I am reading closely and evaluating. After a suitable period for sober reflection, I will pass onto him my patented one-two punch of effuse praise and withering critique. Plot always follows character and several characters, until recently vague placeholders, have lately sprung to life before my mind's eye. So, as I enjoy saying (possibly just a bit too much), the work continues apace.

Grow or die.

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
The Chinkees, "Trophy Winner" from Peace Through Music (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: Because, really, what better way to celebrate the Red Wings' Stanley Cup triumph than with a fifty-eight-second instrumental song by a California-based, all-Asian band dedicated to combating racism, sexism, and discrimination of all types; fostering racial harmony; and advancing a vaguely socialist agenda?

I have no idea what this song is really about, as there are no lyrics. Even the album's liner notes, which detail the genesis of each individual song, read for "Trophy Winner" simply, "Instrumental." Way to help, Mike Park.

Scroll down for the latest installment of The Explorers Club!

"Voyage of the Damned"

"Partners in Crime"
"The Fires of Pompeii"
"Planet of the Ood"
"The Sontaran Stratagem"
"The Poison Sky"
"The Doctor's Daughter"
(cont'd)

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
The Aquabats!, "Look At Me, I'm a Winner!" from Charge!! (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: This one goes out to Chris Osgood, No. 30. We missed you when you were gone, buddy.

"Four radios blasting classic rock,
And they're pointing at you!
With your fist raised high and a hitch in your step,
You've got it all!
I've got no reason to lie!
Look at me, look at me, look at me,
I'm a winner!
(You're a winner!)
It's just as simple as that!
Don't you agree, don't you agree, don't you agree
That I'm a winner?
(You're a winner!)
You just can't argue with that!"

Even on T.V., I could tell that The Joe wasn't the same without the chants of "Oz-zie! Oz-zie! Oz-zie!"

The Stars My Destination
When We Left Earth reminded me that I've been remiss in my "The Stars My Destination" and "Science!" posts, and I aim to correct that tomorrow.

I placed on this year's birthday wish list, titled "The Summer of Indiana Jones," the following item in the category of Miscellany: "Gift certificates for or largess to purchase a fancy pants grown up watch." This morning, my mother spied in the paper an advertisement for a Father's Day promotion at J. C. Penney, placing on sale watches along with many other items. So, this afternoon, we decamped to Penney's to examine what was on offer. I narrowed down my preferences to a pair and left the final choice to her since this was, after all, her gift to me. She chose the less formal of the two, saying "It's more like [me]." And it really is. So, though I shan't be receiving a chronograph for my birthday, I am getting a new, supplemental watch!

On the one hand, I am grateful to her for the lovely gift, and for the opportunity to select it myself. On the other hand, I dislike knowing the nature of my presents in advance of my birthday. On the gripping hand, my new watch is of Swiss manufacture; it's chockablock with neutral precision!

Also, as we departed with our purchases, we ran into, in the act of entering, Alistair's elder brother. I could see the wheels turning behind his eyes as he struggled to recognize me, and not in vain. We traded the usual pleasantries and went our separate ways about our own business.

The Explorers Club
No. LXXIX - The XF-85 Goblin.






My mother hails from Kettering, Ohio, a suburb of Dayton, home of Wright-Patterson Air Force Base which is in turn the home of the National Museum of the United States Air Force (called the United States Air Force Museum during my youth; so, I will forever think of it by that name). Grandma Little, my mother's mother and my sole surviving grandparent, has disliked my father for all thirty-eight years that she has known him. As a consequence, whenever we'd visit my grandparents in Kettering, the Wilson men would invariably pay a visit to the Air Force Museum; so, I've seen the Goblin at Wright-Pat in person more times than I can count. And it is ever cooler in person than in the above photographs. Wright-Pat is one of only two attractions in verdammt Ohio I am willing to endorse (the other is Cedar Point, which isn't even really in Ohio). If you get the chance to visit the Air Force Museum, I recommend it highly.

Also, I am greatly enamored of the entire concept of parasite aircraft; so, The Explorers Club has surely not seen the last of these aerial oddballs.

The Duke!
I've just finished watching the lion's share (pun fully intended) of Hatari!, starring none other than John Wayne. There didn't seem to be much in the way of plot, merely a string of phenomenally entertaining scenes, alternating between wild animal adventure and chummy camaraderie. If anything, it reminds me of The Life Aquatic, except without the melancholy endemic to all of Wes Anderson's pictures, and about not a sea cruise but a prolonged African safari. (Are there non-African safaris? If one went big game hunting in India during the Raj, would it be rightly called a safari?) 'Twas on A.M.C., so there were commercials, and I missed the first hour and a half (in the T.V. guide, not T.V. Guide, the running time with commercials is given as three and a half hours); so, one of these days I'll have to sit down and watch all of Hatari!

We really don't make enough films sporting an exclamation point in the title.

The Rebel Black Dot Songs of the Day
Denis Leary, "Asshole" from No Cure For Cancer (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: "I walk around in the summertime saying, 'How about this heat?'"

Is "@$$hole" an acceptably less offensive substitute fit for public display, or even more offensive due to the annoyance factor? Debate.

Freitag, 6 Juni
Queen, "We Are the Champions" from Greatest Hits I (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: As I am certain the Red Wings have not for the last time in my lifetime claimed Lord Stanley's Cup, one of these years I'll be there in the heart of Detroit for the parade, by thunder! An estimated crowd of 1,400,000 lined the parade route: even though not all were from Michigan (the Wings' local fanbase extends southward into both Ohio and Ontario), that's more than one in ten people in the whole damn state! That's bloody ridiculous in the best possible sense!

Still basking in the afterglow, this evening I am wearing a T-shirt appropriate to the occasion: "Swedish Mafia: Efficient but deadly."



The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Me First and the Gimme Gimmes, "Nobody Does It Better" from Have A Ball (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: Dedicated to Detroit Red Wings alternate captain Henrik Zetterberg, No. 40, winner of the Conn Smythe Trophy as the most valuable player in the 2008 Stanley Cup Playoffs and the most dangerous man on the ice during a 5-on-3.

There is much about which to complain, but at this juncture I am, as you may have gathered, still soaring from last night and thus in no mood to ponder the abyss. Yet to sate those clamoring for more personal content, I bring you a confession both shocking and utterly bewildering, most of all to yours truly. An excerpt from an online chat with Skeeter, held exactly one week ago:

Skeeter: i'm in it for the voyeurism
so i thank you
Me: At this exact moment, I am experiencing the most bizarre crush on Hilary Duff.
Skeeter: ew, mike
she's not even pretty
Me: Bizarre in that I have seen none of her films and her music is horrific. I am at a complete loss, Julie.
Skeeter: go focus on blake lively
at least she's purdy
Me: I have no idea who that is, but I'll try. The internet shall yield the answers!

A week on, I remain entirely enchanted by the Duffmeister (and I do not mean my R.C.Y. bandmate, and damn dirty lefty, John). Plumb the depths of that oddity... if you dare! Sooner rather than later, we'll compare and contrast this disturbing infatuation with the oft misunderstood meaning of our occasional features "Parker Posey Appreciation Day" and "Zooey Deschanel Appreciation Day." Is there a method to my madness or merely a series of misfiring synapses? Stay tuned.

But first, of course, more Stanley Cup celebrating. WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Believe: Red Wings 3-2 Penguins
Sixteen wins for Lord Stanley's Cup. Best of seven: Detroit 4-2 Pittsburgh.

Oh my Bog. Oh my Bog. Oh my Bog. How I had missed this sensation! I cannot even hope to be minimally articulate. All is joy. Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Ilitch. Thank you, Captain Lidstrom. My thanks to all the Red Wings. And a special nod to Steve Yzerman, former captain of the Red Wings and now in the front office, who refused to come down to the ice tonight and deflect any attention from this year's players' triumph. Nobody does it better, Captain Yzerman. Thank you all.

The Detroit Red Wings
2008 Stanley Cup Champions

Believe.

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Me First and the Gimme Gimmes, "She Believes In Me" from Love Their Country (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: "And she believes in me, I'll never know just what she sees in me."

Believe: 2nd Intermission - Red Wings 2-1 Penguins
The lavish praise the C.B.C. commentators heap upon young Sidney Crosby (or should I say verbal fellatio?) is annoying, but who doesn't love that old sports standard, the "us against the world" narrative? I mean, the Red Wings have the biggest national fan base in the N.H.L.; so, it doesn't really work, but with the Penguins, the officials, and the N.H.L. itself arrayed against us, it is not entirely invalid either.

One period to glory. Let's go Red Wings. Believe.

Believe: 1st Intermission - Red Wings 1-0 Penguins
So, let me see if I understand this: the Penguins got a 5-on-3 for a minute and a half because Kris Draper delivered a perfectly legal check to a Penguin, but when a Penguin blatantly tripped a Red Wing - Kronwall, I think - while Detroit was on the power play, the official who was looking straight at the clearcut penalty sat on his hands. I mean, I know the N.H.L. front office desperately wants Sidney Crosby to win the Cup, but the obviousness of the corruption is getting ridiculous.

Whatever. If the Wings have to play against two different teams wearing white and black - the only difference being that the Penguins feature splashes of yellow while the officials have orange armbands - so be it. Go Red Wings!

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Me First and the Gimme Gimmes, "Goodbye Earl" from Love Their Country (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: Because, really, who among us can say that they've never wanted to see Dennis Franz murdered and consigned to an unmarked grave, unknown and unmourned?

Believe: Penguins 4-3 Red Wings (3 O.T.)
Fifteen down, one to go! Best of seven: Detroit 3-2 Pittsburgh.

Sadly, this is exactly what happens when you don't put a team down for good and instead let them hang around. Even though they were badly outplayed for long stretches of the game, the Penguins held on and held on, and eventually prevailed. But, take heart, Hockeytown faithful. You know who else won Game 5 in the Joe Louis Arena to stave off elimination and force a Game 6 back on their home ice? The Dallas Stars, and we all saw how that turned out for them.

And now I am for bed. I'm exhausted, mentally and emotionally more than physically. Go Red Wings!

Believe: End of Second Overtime - Red Wings 3-3 Penguins
Bog, this is interminable. No, no, must remain in high spirits.... Let's go, Red Wings, third time's the charm! For the Cup! For glory! For Detroit!

Believe: End of Regulation - Red Wings 3-3 Penguins
Well, crap. Serves us right, I suppose, for not scoring a fourth "insurance" goal. Bring on the O.T.!

Go Red Wings!

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Paul Simon, "Kodachrome" via iTunes (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: "I got a Nikon camera, I love to take the photographs." The X-700, however, is a Minolta: X-700link. (My X-700, "The X-700," looks much like the featured "Black version," but with an entirely different strap.)

The Explorers Club
No. LXXVIII - Port Moresby, Papua New Guinea; its namesake, Admiral Sir Fairfax Moresby (1786-1877); and its namer, his son, Captain John Moresby (1830-1922).










There are also two completely separate islands in the Dominion of Canada named Moresby Island, again after the admiral.

Escape Hatch
On Thursday, out of the clear blue sky, The L.A.W. and Brother-in-L.A.W., utilizing the power of speaker phone, rang my mobile and asked if I had a few minutes to discuss a matter of some import. They wish me to move to Washington, D.C. and, after attaining an entry-level position on Capitol Hill, climb the ranks as a Republican operative. And as at first I will need to find a relatively crummy job to work on the weekends and at night to leave my days free to scour the halls of power for that first step on my new career, they have offered their townhouse as a short-term residence. I am sorely tempted by their generosity and I am giving the matter serious consideration. After the debacle of Texile, I will make no move without an interval of profound introspection and a lavish degree of planning and preparation.

Nice to know my future is a matter of concern and that people out there are scheming to help me find a better life.

Believe: Red Wings 2-1 Penguins
Fifteen down, one to go! Best of seven: Detroit 3-1 Pittsburgh.

Holy freakin' cow, the second period was one of the most frenetic intervals I'd seen in all my many years of following televised sports! Interesting factoid: the Penguins have never come back from behind, not in all the series. They didn't score at all in the first two games, and lead 2-0, 2-1, and 3-1 in Game 3. This time 'round, they drew first blood and still lost. Hard to say which is more disheartening, that failure or the futility of their ridiculously long 5-on-3 power play in the third.

Though the Penguins will be desperate tomorrow, playing on the edge of the abyss of elimination, I do not believe they have the fortitude, the strength of character to force a Game 6 back in Pittsburgh. Though villains, the Dallas Stars twice summoned the discipline and Herculean effort necessary to stave off elimination. Faced with adversity after the first two games, the Pens focused not on their own shortcomings, but instead lobed scurrilous accusations of underhanded play at the Red Wings. Presented with the opportunity to tie the series on Saturday, those selfsame self-pitiers looked confused, frustrated, and generally out of sorts through most of the contest. Given the chance to compete for glory, I believe the Penguins will lay down and beg for mercy. And I doubt the Red Wings will be in a merciful humor. At this point, I wouldn't bet the baby's milk money on my prediction of a six-game series.

Go Red Wings!

Game 3: Penguins 3-2 Red Wings
Fourteen down, two to go. Best of seven: Detroit 2-1 Pittsburgh.

The bad news? We lost. The good news? We lost as much because of our own poor play as because of anything the pouting Penguins did. We looked sluggish and discombobulated throughout; so, honestly, I don't know how we managed to score two goals and come so close to winning. More troubling, at the time, was that we had not managed to lose only one game thus far in the playoffs. On both previous occasions that we lost a game - against Nashville after leading 2-0 and up 3-0 against Dallas - we also lost a second consecutive game; so, both series took six games. However, the glorious hallmark of a Mike Babcock-coached Red Wings team is a complete and utter lack of panic. And regardless of the outcome of Game 4, I remained confident in the Red Wings' eventual triumph.

Game 2: Red Wings 3-0 Penguins
Fourteen down, two to go. Best of seven: Detroit 2-0 Pittsburgh.

Forgive me, I made the mistake of watching the first half of A&E's The Andromeda Strain instead of Game 2. Even had The Andromeda Strain not proven a rotting pile, this choice would have been a mistake; that the miniseries was atrocious added almost welcome insult to injury. (I like my mistakes to be painful so as to make them all the more educational.)

I had no opinion whatsoever of Sidney "Sid the Kid" Crosby's character before this series, but now I hate his whiny guts. Take your beating like a man, junior, don't bellyache about phantom obstruction penalties and non-existent dives. Clearly, it was a mistake making such a petulant child the captain of the Penguins. It would stand the crybaby in good stead to study the leadership styles of two men truly worthy of the honor of the captaincy, Steve Yzerman (or simply "The Captain") and Nick Lidstrom.

Meanwhile, the braying state media was right: for all the national media's talk of the Red Wings having not faced an offensive juggernaut like the Penguins, the more significant point was that the Penguins had not, even in their worst nightmares, imagined anything as chilling as the total-team defense of the Red Wings.

Game 1: Red Wings 4-0 Penguins
Thirteen down, three to go. Best of seven: Detroit 1-0 Pittsburgh.

I was kept updated on the progress of this game while at The Guy and The Gal's wedding reception through the marvel of modern technology. A fellow with whom I am vaguely acquainted from the Memorial Day camping bonanzas of yore gave me an unsolicited, but by no means unwelcome, report when the Red Wings lead two to nil. I presume his information came courtesy of a mobile, wireless device, though this is a pure supposition. He approached me at the bar when the score had grown to 4-0 and we had one of those delightfully male conversations about the glory and majesty of sport; it is much harder to see the grandeur or such moments when your team has the short end of the stick. He kept me from the dance floor, true, but as will be detailed later the dance floor was the one area in which The Guy and The Gal's wedding weekend was less than spectacular.

And though but one game and not at all the whole series, I absolutely relished Detroit's denial of the potent Pittsburgh offense.

The Rebel Black Dot Songs of the Day
Guster, "So Long" from Lost and Gone Forever (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: "But in my defense, I'd do it again."

Samstag, 31 Mai
Steppenwolf, "Magic Carpet Ride" from 16 Greatest Hits (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: I am a music snob, but a highly idiosyncratic music snob who has, for example, no problem with greatest hits collections. The greatest hits, as a sampler, can be a great introduction to your new favorite band; alternately, some bands have but one or two extraordinary songs on every album, mixed in with a lot of middling, forgettable tunes. R.E.M. is the premiere exemplar of this latter type. (No offense, Saturday Night.)

"Voyage of the Damned"

"Partners in Crime"
"The Fire of Pompeii"
"Planet of the ood"
"The Sontaran Stratagem" Pt. 1
"The Poison Sky" Pt. 2
(cont'd)

Hello, my name is Mike Wilson, nicknamed The Last Angry Man. The Secret Base of the Rebel Black Dot Society is my blog, not yours, and I will post whatever I please, constrained solely by my conscience, and in my own sweet time. If this proves unsatisfactory, please feel free not to read. Or, better yet, start your own blog to voice your discontent. Thanks for reading and have a nice day.

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Guster, "Fall In Two" from Parachute (T.L.A.M.)

In the course of the day, Skeeter repeated her plea for me to rededicate The Secret Base to chronicling the trials and travails of my daily life and The L.A.W. & Brother-in-L.A.W. rang - on speaker phone - with a life-changing proposal to alleviate their concern over my lack of direction/residence in Grand Blanc. Always odd to be reminded that people are, to varying degrees, interested in my life and welfare. Neat!

The Professor has initiated a series of emails, an intelligent discourse on the nature and meaning of several of the adages by which he lives his life. An absolutely fascinating dialogue is taking shape. I am blessed to have such friends.

Project TROIKA
Steeze and I had our first face-to-face discussion of Project TROIKA during Matrimania - Saint Louis and for the first time I feel as if the end is in sight, not like Project TROIKA is a long, hard slog, but as if I can really see both where we want to go and how to get there, creatively speaking. Am I spouting gibberish? Almost certainly, but ask me if I care. Holy balls, we're actually going to get this done. We're actually going to write a novel for publication. You'll be able to see our names, K. Steeze's, The Professor's, and mine, on a cover in your local bookstore. Great googly moogly.

Grow or die.

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Fatboy Slim, "Praise You" via iTunes (The Sardine)

I am a creature of habit, dear readers, a man who treasures routine and repetition. Traveling across five states (Michigan, Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, and Missouri) across the span of five days (Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and Monday) has proven a substantial disruption, and it is taking me longer than I predicted (under the influence of wild and baseless optimism) to fall into my rhythm. But slowly The Secret Base is regaining its footing. And now to thoroughly mix our metaphors, there's smooth sailing ahead.

The Rebel Black Dot Songs of the Day
New Found Glory, "This Disaster" from Catalyst (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: Speaking of disasters, I can't believe I wasted two nights watching A&E's mutilation of The Andromeda Strain. Alas, such unrealized potential.

Dienstag, 27 Mai
Billy Joel, "Allentown" from The Nylon Curtain (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: And this one goes out to Ki-El, my good and talented friend. You'll land on your feet, buddy. Like a cat. "Allentown" is an appropriate R.B.D.S.O.T.D. on at least two separate levels.

Montag, 26 Mai
Mu330, "Fat and Married" from Chumps on Parade (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: Once again, three cheers for Matrimania - Saint Louis: Hip hip! Hooray! Hip hip! Hooray! Hip hip! Hooray!

I am experiencing a mild degree of guilt for not choosing a song more befitting the day we honor our war dead, the glorious dead, but on the other hand is not the joy of this past weekend precisely what those valiant souls died to defend? That this way of life might persist? The mild guilt persists, but The Guy and The Gal are worth it.

Sonntag, 25 Mai
John Williams & the London Symphony Orchestra, "Marion's Theme" from Raiders of the Lost Ark: Original Motion Picture Soundtrack (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: An apropos choice on the day that The Guy, The Professor, K. Steeze, and I together saw Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, no? It could never have been anyone else but Marion Ravenwood, Abner's little girl. Perfect.

Samstag, 24 Mai
Ben Folds, "Zak and Sara" from Rocking the Suburbs (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: My sincerest congratulations to Zach and Sarah, a.k.a. The Guy and The Gal, on the day they formalized the lifelong love they have already shared for nearly a decade. I wish you both all the happiness in the world, my friends.

Freitag, 23 Mai
Narwhal Tag! Sehen Sie unten.

Donnerstag, 22 Mai
The Ataris, "My Hotel Year" from Blue Skies, Broken Hearts... Next 12 Exists (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: "I'm more alone with you than when I'm by myself."

The Explorers Club
No. LXXVII - Percy Fawcett (1867-1925) and his Lost City of Z, somewhere in the Mato Grosso state of Brazil.








We're taking the title "The Explorers Club" rather literally this week.

NARWHAL DAY!
The 23rd of May is Narwhal Day, a day of celebration of and sympathy for the narwhal, one of the good Earth's most splendidly bizarre creatures. There are three elements to the celebration of Narwhal Day: a) the wearing of the gray, b) the hearing of "Sympathy for the Narwhal," and c) recitation of the Oath of Narwhal Day. You must wear at least one article of gray clothing, be it a shirt, pants, socks, or even underwear, though the spirit of Narwhal Day, the spirit of true sympathy for these grandly misbegotten beasts, means the gray should be displayed proudly, not hidden between your clothes and your naughty bits.

The Oath of Narwhal Day
The narwhal is a noble, pitiable creature,
A magnificent, monstrous visage.
An asymmetrical tooth for a horn,
Or sometimes two, or sometimes none,
Half again as long as the beast.

I swear my sympathy for the narwhal.
I will not lie and convince it all is well,
But I will be a friend to the narwhal.
The mocking dolphins and snobby manatees
Will get their well-earned comeuppance,
And the narwhal will frolic all day.

I dream this dream of the narwhal
And celebrate it in all its improbable, oddball glory,
On this the eighth Narwhal Day.


Narwhal (Monodon monoceros)



And now a tour of Narwhal Days past with a series of Wayback Machinelinks!

Narwhal Day '07

Narwhal Day '06

Narwhal Day '05

Narwhal Day '04

Narwhal Day '03

The Rebel Black Dot Song of Narwhal Day
D.J. Seaghost, "Sympathy for the Narwhal" from Rice Capades (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: "Play something sad, convince it all is not well."

Narwhal Day is nearly here! Make ready! Make ready!

Believe
I am sorry, there's just too little time left before my departure for the madcap fun of Matrimania - Saint Louis to state properly all that I wish to say about the Red Wings, the fans of Hockeytown, and the quest for the grandest trophy in all of sport, the Stanley Cup. And as mentioned before, the celebration of my great friend's nuptials will prevent my viewing of the first match between the venerable Detroit Red Wings and the upstart Pittsburgh Penguins; The Gal is The Guy's true ladylove, and this is a sacrifice I make most willingly and happily.



And I dare not shirk a manly declaration of certainty: the Red Wings in six. Believe.

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Mu330, "Tune Me Out" from Crab Rangoon (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: Of late, I have found that some of the people for whom I most deeply care, or cared, seem to have tuned me out. They listen not to what I say, but merely await their own turn to speak. These insults have not passed unnoticed and shall not go unrevenged.

The Explorers Club
No. LXXVI - The short-lived Republic of Hatay (1938-39).






Hatay is the sliver of Turkey between Syria and the Mediterranean Sea.

My first hint of the existence of Hatay came in 1989, during Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade; to my ten-year-old mind, it seemed a fictional country, a Middle Eastern Ruritania. Recently, to my surprise and delight, I learned that the Republic of Hatay was real, however briefly. I hereby invite you all to explore this fascinating tale and hope that it adds to the nigh-frenzied level of excitement surrounding the release of Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull!

Despite my love of nearly all things Lucasfilm, I will not be seeing Crystal Skull until Sunday, when all of the core Blue Tree Whackers will see it together the day after The Guy's wedding in Saint Louis.

Irrevocable Shackles: Matrimania - Saint Louis
Speaking of which, the plan was for me to carpool to Saint Louis from *shiver* Columbus, Ohio with two Married cohorts, but the wife is no longer attending the wedding. I am not allowed to ask any questions about her; so, I do not know why she is boycotting the nuptial festivities, but now it will be just her husband and I on the drive to and from the Gateway to the West. Huzzah? And whilst there I shall represent Team Bachelor to the best of my ability. Stay unshackled or die trying!

Also, The Gal informs me that I shall be required to consume at her and The Guy's reception "as much [alcohol] as twelve people": not as much hooch as might slake the thirst of twelve people at said reception, but a quantity of alcohol equivalent to the internal volume of twelve average-sized people. Ho boy, that's a lot of booze. I cannot help but think of Buster's old line from Tiny Toons, when meeting Babs's father, "Gee, sir, you must displace a great deal of water when submerged." Bottoms up!

During Matrimania - D.C., Brother-in-L.A.W. opened my palate to an appreciation for gin; so, perhaps I'll break up my usual beer-only reception diet with a gin and tonic, or perhaps a gin martini. I despise the taste of vodka and did not at all enjoy the one or two vodka martinis I've ever imbibed.

Believe: Red Wings 4-1 Stars
Twelve down, four to go! Best of seven: Detroit 4-2 Dallas.

And that, gentlemen, is how we do that. Recall the sage words of Saturday Night Latham, "It's nice to see that when breaks go against the Red Wings... they just shrug it off and go about their business." Hear hear! More to come before Matrimania - Saint Louis.

Wilson
I dropped by good ol' McFarlen Library this afternoon in response to a notification of the arrival of a book on ***CENSORED*** that I'd requested, more research for Project TROIKA, and after browsing the shelves I also borrowed How to Survive a Robot Uprising: Tips on Defending Yourself Against the Coming Rebellion by Daniel H. Wilson. (I already have a huge backlog in my reading, but I am like a magpie, I cannot resist that which is new and/or shiny. And this book is both! At least new to me.) Ye olde internet informs me that Mr. Wilson's "H." stands for Howard, and How to Survive a Robot Uprising is dedicated, "For Howard Wilson." While probably a relative of the author's, I could not help but think, "He's dedicating a book to my late grandfather? Or my uncle, his eldest son and namesake?" Ah, the joys of a ridiculously common surname.

(Go ahead, type "Michael Wilson" and "Mike Wilson" into Wikipedia.)

Who Used To Own It?
I have sorely neglected both "The Explorers Club" and Who Used To Own It? since Matrimania - D.C., but we begin to reverse that trend today. To those of you who have already submitted your answers to the latest round, you have my sincerest thanks for playing. For those who have not, there is yet time to get in on the fun! Through the hyperlink below, you'll have one last chance to play Who Used To Own It? East Indies Edition. Answers and scoring for Round One will be posted on Memorial Day, along with the queries for Round Two. Good luck and have fun!

Grandson of Direct Hyperlink.

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Mu330, "Favorite Show" from Mu330 (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: Not to be confused with Mu330 front man Dan Potthast's solo project song "My Favorite Song."

I've got that "Cannes do" attitude!

Believe: Stars 2-1 Red Wings
Stuck at eleven down, five to go. Best of seven: Detroit 3-2 Dallas.

Everything you need to know about the game you could have gleaned in the final minute of the third period: in the last fifty-seven seconds (:57), though we had pulled our goaltender for a man-advantage on the attack, we appeared to be outnumbered by the Stars. There were six Red Wings to only five Stars (Dallas goaltender and Michigan man Marty Turco remaining barricaded in his crease), yet every Red Wing to touch the puck seemed beset upon by a veritable swarm of Stars, and not one of our boys could get open, not in the slightest. Yesterday, the Stars were the better team, and the better team won.

I remain confident in the eventual triumph of Mike Babcock's Red Wings. Game 6 shall be ours! Believe!

The Rebel Black Dot Songs of the Day
Dan Potthast, "Tornado Joe" from Sweets and Meats (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: California as a panacea?

"The ocean's great and the weather's nice,
But isolation is everywhere
And you sure can't escape it by coming here."

Samstag, 17 Mai
The Toasters, "Don't Let the Bastards Grind You Down" (live) from Live in London (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: "D.L.T.B.G.Y.D." as the R.B.D.S.O.T.D.!

"Voyage of the Damned"

"Partners in Crime"
"The Fires of Pompeii"
"Planet of the Ood"
"The Sontaran Stratagem" Pt. 1
(cont'd)

Believe: Stars 3-1 Red Wings
Eleven down, five to go. Best of seven: Detroit 3-1 Dallas.

Well, that sucked. Once again, the rampant corruption within the N.H.L. is exposed. And yes, I mean corruption. There are only two ways the call against Holmstrom could have disallowed a clean goal while a genuine violation of the crease by the Stars was ignored and the resultant goal allowed to stand: the referee is corrupt, taking a bride from the Stars or throwing the game in their favor not for money but because of either a personal bias or pressure from the league to prevent a series sweep; or he is incompetent, in which case he has been allowed to officiate playoff games only because of rot within the N.H.L. (And the N.H.L is clearly rotten from top to bottom, the persistence of Gary Bettman's inept leadership alone is proof of that.) This corruption didn't cost us the game, but the League's silence is this matter is inexcusable.

All that said, the Stars earned the win, dash it all. For the first time this series, I can understand how they overcame the Ducks and Sharks. That said, even a repetition of Wednesday's effort will be insufficient to deny the Red Wings their berth in the Stanley Cup Finals. We lost Game 4, but the Red Wings will prevail in Game 5. Victory!

Flyers 4-2 Penguins. Best of seven: Pittsburgh 3-1 Philadelphia.

Well done, you Philly bastards. Make Sidney Crosby and his ludicrous "playoff beard" work for it! (I know the Sid the Kid is, well, a kid, but if you can't grow a proper playoff beard, kid, just shave. Chelios has been clean-shaven throughout the playoffs, and he's Greek; so, you know he has to be shaving twice or thrice a day.)

The Rebel Black Dot Songs of the Day
The House Band, "Pharaoh" from Green Linnet Records: The Twentieth Anniversary Collection (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: I cannot help but be reminded of Tobias Wolff's memoir of his service in the Vietnam War, In Pharaoh's Army.

"A thousand eyes, a thousand years,
He feeds us all, he feeds our fears.
Don't stir in your sleep tonight, my dears,
We're all working for the Pharaoh."

And, no, I'm not name-dropping Wolff to foster a veneer of erudition, because I'm certain there are layers of meaning in each of his short stories that I have entirely missed. "Pharaoh" really does remind me of In Pharaoh's Army, which you all should read.

Donnerstag, 15 Mai
The Impossibles, "Plan B" from Mailorder is Fun! (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: I sang this song under my breath all day yesterday, but for the life of me I could remember neither the title nor the band. I searched fruitlessly, but then today I stumbled upon it by blind luck just a few songs after "Pharaoh." Woot!

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
The Blues Brothers, "Jailhouse Rock" from The Blues Brothers Original Soundtrack Recording (T.L.A.M.)

Narwhal Day Looms
Ten days, less than fortnight, until Narwhal Day. Heed the admonishment on the back cover of The Fury of The Aquabats!, "Just prepare yourselves for the fury!"

Believe: Pennsylvanian Civil War
Penguins 4-1 Flyers. Best of seven: Pittsburgh 3-0 Philadelphia.

I am interested in this series for three reasons. Ein) Though the N.H.L. playoffs seems interminable and I have myself made any number of jokes about their two-month duration, soon, very soon, the hockey season will be over, leaving the summer a barren wasteland devoid of sport. I am thus feasting before the inevitable famine. (And thus the deluge of hockey posts.)

Zwei) The Red Wings shall prevail over the hapless (should be North) Stars, meaning the Pittsburgh-Philly winner will be all that stands between us and the Stanley Cup. Utterly regardless of my complete lack of any role in preparing the Wings for the challenge ahead, I feel that sympathetic impulse common to most sports fans: I wish to scout the opposition. I've watched very little Prince of Wales Conference hockey this year and I am using this series to play catch up. Sid the Kid has no idea what awaits him.

Drei) During the festivities of Matrimania - D.C., my darling sister's wedding, I met a chap named Ravi we shall call Jersey, the fiancé of The L.A.W.'s maid of honor, Melissa. for whom I have not yet devised a codename. As his handle indicates, Jersey Ravi is a son of New Jersey, from the suburbs of Philadelphia, and a huge fan of the Flyers. I enjoyed his company all three times I met him - at the rehearsal dinner, the wedding reception, and the day-after cookout - so, though I am no fan of the Flyers, I am interested in their fate for his sake. This series must be killing him, the poor devil. (Ed. note: There are too many people I met during Matrimania - D.C. to whom I may never again refer once I have regaled you with the tale of the weekend to make codenames practicable. So, with care not to reveal surnames, I shall simply use given names for those without ongoing roles in the adventure that is my life and times.)

Vote For Kodos: Donkey Punch
Staying in the race is just about the first thing Senator Clinton has ever done that I wholeheartedly support. Never say die!

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Letters to Cleo, "Demon Rock" from Wholesale Meats and Fish (T.L.A.M.)

The Irrevocable Shackles of Matrimony: Matrimania - Saint Louis
I spoke to The Guy this evening, very briefly, nothing at all to do with the wedding. My appraisal? He sounded good, he sounded relaxed. He sounded like a man ready to become his ladylove's husband. My man sounded happy.

In the words of Tony Kornheiser, "Get happy, people."

Believe: Red Wings 5-2 Stars
Eleven down, five to go. Best of seven: Detroit 3-0 Dallas.

I admit, I flipped away from the game to watch Dirty Jobs with Mike Rowe, flipping back to Versus (Where was the C.B.C.? The Canucks fouled this one up nicely.) during commercial interruptions to check on the score. I am, apparently, entirely justified in my inability to take the Stars seriously as an obstacle. I watched much of yesterday's all-Pennsylvania contest between the Pittsburgh Penguins and the Philadelphia Flyers. At the risk of angering the heathen gods of hockey, I wasn't terribly impressed with either team and should the Red Wings prove triumphant over the paltry Stars, I think they'll have a better than even chance to hoist Lord Stanley's Cup for the fourth time in a dozen years.

Speaking, generally, of the Cup, I am absolutely disgusted by the ignorance and bad attitudes of nearly everyone in Michigan. Too many people regard the Red Wings as perennial playoffs chokers, as being extremely talented but unable to perform under pressure. How in blazes can anyone hold that opinion? The Red Wings have not won the Stanley Cup since 2002, true. Six years, five seasons. No such criticism is piled upon the Tigers, who haven't won the *scoff* World Series since - start studying Newspeak - 1984. The Red Wings advanced to the "Western" Campbell Conference Finals last year only to fall to the eventual champion Ducks in six close games; a few moments of different fortune here and there would have put the Wings in the Stanley Cup Finals. I seem to recall the beloved Tigers getting fucking destroyed and made to look like amateurs the last time they were in the *scoff* World Series. The Pistons have won a championship more recently than the Red Wings, and they were tantalizingly close to repeating the following season, but they haven't brought home "the hardware" but once in the last dozen years, the same span in which the Red Wings have won three championships, yet no one around here calls the Pistons perennial playoff pretenders. Wherefore the double standard? Why the scorn reserved so exclusively for the Red Wings?

I have a theory, but it isn't a legitimate, just a crude insult: The people around here are fucking arseholes. (Dearest Watergirl, please refrain from making any comment. I love your frequent commenting, but your incessant Mitten-bashing long ago exhausted my last nerve. Thank you.) I have a possibly legitimate theory, too, but it'll keep for a while yet.

Project TROIKA
K. Steeze gets a lot of his ideas from video games. Character ideas, the broad strokes of scenarios. I simply do not understand video game culture. I acknowledge that it is an ever larger part of our popular culture, but it is one of which I remain steadfastly ignorant and disdainful. (A charming combination, I know, but on this one I'm going to stand my ground and hope fear and hate carry the day.) So, denounce me if you wish, but whenever he mentions that the genesis of an idea lies within a video game, my first reaction, even though the vast majority of our TROIKA correspondence is over email, is to make a face, to look at his words as if they've aliens with bumps on their foreheads. Reason, goodwill, and the profound respect I have for Steeze's creative prowess eventually overcome that initial skepticism, yet that first impulse persists. I am a snob. Without knowing much about them, I regard the storytelling possibilities of video games an inherently inferior to those of books, motion pictures, plays, television episodes, and comic books, et al.

We are almost always on the same page, but in this one area there is between us a vast gulf.

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
The Ataris, "Angry Nerd Rock" from Blue Skies, Broken Hearts... Next 12 Exits (T.L.A.M.)

What an appallingly terrible day. All evidence points in the direction that my mother is more fond of my sister-in-law than she is of either of her own sons. Were I to live for a thousand years I would never understand what I could possibly have done to be deserving of this level of disrespect. This shan't be forgotten, nor ever forgiven. She is my mother and ever shall be, nothing could ever change that, but today my tremendous affection for her dimmed just that little bit. High times indeed for the dark bastard.

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Green Day, "Worry Rock" from Nimrod (T.L.A.M.)

Believe: Red Wings 2-1 Stars
Ten down, six to go. Best of seven: Detroit 2-0 Dallas.

I missed Thursday's Game 1, Red Wings 4-1 Stars, catching up on my video tape recordings and picking my father up from Bishop International Airport. What should have been a quick and routine excursion was elongated by the flat tire suffered by his Impala, which I drove because I'd rather not have that man in my precious Lumi. However, I find all of my father's failing amusing, even those he experiences by proxy, like the nail-punctured tire; so, the extra time was not entirely wasted. (Petulant? Yes, but I spent seventeen years absolutely idolizing my father; I am entitled to demonize him for at least an equal period. I'll attempt to adopt a truly adult attitude towards that monster when I'm thirty-four, giving me just over five years of remaining petulance. Woot!)

During my Texile, my roommate and I attended a Wings-Stars game at the American Airlines Center in Dallas, the tickets courtesy of one of his colleagues, a native son of "the Metroplex." To the displeasure of the surprisingly dedicated crowd, the Red Wings prevailed (I do not recall the exact score and at this moment in time I do not wish to search my archives for my ticket stub, upon which I wrote the final score). Then and now, I am constitutionally incapable of taking the Dallas (should be Minnesota North) Stars seriously. Though the Cowboy-imitating Stars bested both the not-so-mighty Anaheim Ducks and the San Jose Sharks on their way to the (Western) Campbell Conference Finals, I would be far more uneasy facing either the Ducks or the Sharks.

My reason insists the Stars have too much talent to be swept, but my gut isn't so sure. That said, I'll take my cue from the Coach Mike Babcock, Captain Nick Lidstrom, and Rudyard Kipling, "And check the show of pride." Respect for your enemy is the first step toward his defeat.

Go Red Wings!

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
They Might Be Giants, "Cyclops Rock" from Mink Car (T.L.A.M.)

"Voyage of the Damned"

"Partners in Crime"
"The Fires of Pompeii"
"Planet of the Ood"
(cont'd)

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
The Ramones, "Chinese Rock" from Ramones Mania (T.L.A.M.)

And for your amusement it is my pleasure and privilege to present a preposterous post from The Secret Base of yore: Wayback Machinelink.

"Days of old and men of yore..."

It took some neglect of other things, like bloggy blogging, but I've finally caught up on all the stuff I taped during the Matrimania - D.C. absence: Gilmore Girls, Doctor Who and The Sarah Jane Adventures, and the tail end of P.B.S.'s Carrier. Also, my reading project is back on track; I've already completed today's quota and in a few moments I'll try to get a little extra in before nodding off. I love traveling and seeing my far-flung family and friends, but bugger the disruption!

"Voyage of the Damned" ('07 Christmas Special)

"Partners in Crime"
"The Fires of Pompeii"

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
The Ataris, "Teenage Riot" from End is Forever (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: The R.B.D.S.O.T.D. may seem like a frivolous pastime, and oftentimes it is, but on some occasions I emotionally invest quite heavily. Yesterday was such a day, as I chronicled the splendor, whimsy, and melancholy of Matrimania - D.C. Today is not such a day, as I have opted for one of The Ataris' least consequential songs. Wheeee!

The Irrevocable Shackles of Matrimony: Matrimania - D.C.
We returned from the magnificence of the nuptial festivities late Sunday evening, and upon waking Monday morning I was in the midst of a head cold. I awoke amid the dizziness I've come to recognize as the hallmark of sinus cavities choked with compacted snot (lovely, I know) and only slowly have I been regaining my feet. I was during this interval fully ambulatory and functional, 'twas only a cold, but I've been surly and insociable.

The Rebel Black Dot Songs of the Day
Barenaked Ladies, "For You" (live) from Talk to the Hand: Live in Michigan (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: And whilst in the District of Columbia I actually did use my right hand and left index finger to indicate from where in Michigan my family and I hail. Whatever must people from other states do, the poor devils?

Dienstag, 6 Mai
Fountains of Wayne, "Trains & Boats & Planes" from Out-of-State Plates, Disc 1 (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: My mind's eye cannot help but dwell upon the ruby red lips of the girl with whom I danced for very nearly all of the evening of my sister's wedding reception. She, Sarah, insisted she was a clumsy dancer, but for all the world I swear she glided as if held aloft upon wings of gossamer.

Montag, 5 Mai
Dan Potthast, "Heavy" from Eyeballs (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: Expect lots of Dan Potthast, a.k.a. Steve Roelle, the missing Roelle brother, and Mu330 as we near Matrimania - St. Louis, now less than three weeks distant. Of course, the whole purpose Matrimania - St. Louis lies in direct opposition to "Heavy," but it's still a delightful song with good advice for all new couples in the fresh bloom of love and/or lust.

Sonntag, 4 Mai
Fountains of Wayne, "Michael and Heather at the Baggage Claim" from Traffic and Weather (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: Of course, all the signs at Detroit Metropolitan Airport - note the splendid absence of the word "international" - say "luggage claim" rather than "baggage claim." I share F.O.W.'s preference for the double meaning of the word baggage.

Samstag, 3 Mai
James Darren, "Here's to the Losers" from This One's From the Heart (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: The last unwed Wilson sibling would like to raise a toast to the forlorn chaps who lost out on the Jadzia Dax sweepstakes, Quark, a true pillar of the community, and the talented Dr. Julian Bashir. Here's to you, lads, God love ya.

Freitag, 2 Mai
Dance Hall Crashers, "Remember to Breathe" (live) from The Live Record - Witless Banter and 25 Mildly Antagonistic Songs of Love (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: Exactly the way love should be, mildly antagonistic.

Donnerstag, 1 Mai
Me First and the Gimme Gimmes, "Leaving On a Jet Plane" from Have a Ball (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: This was, I believe, my fourth trip to Washington, D.C., and yet the very first time I approached the city by aeroplane. Death from above!

A preview of the world that's coming.*



*Thanks, Mr. Kirby!

And lest you think I forgot, happy May Day, you pinkos. Bugger international socialism, we'll reclaim May Day for the Maypole one day, by Jove!