m o d e r n     t i m e s . . .       8.26.05           whilst freely admitting there are many things l'Marquis appreciates about living in this day & age, he'd be remiss if he didn't mention that the frequency of occasions when some aspect of our lives today inspires big-time heebie-jeebies has tripled, maybe more like quadrupled. First we've heard of zabasearch.com was in David Lazarus' Chronicle column (ahhhhhhh, oncet upon a time, yourstruly was toiling away there on the killing floor of Kronikle Klassifieds, hooked up live and online and able to peruse the day's events in an immediate and timely fashion, updating el chango tonto anytime we were so inclined, oh and we were inclined to do so plenty, back in those days...). Don't know about ye, Binky-poo, but that zabasearch thingie kind of giving us the heebiejeebies, and yahhh, we know, that kind of stuff is not so difficult to locate out there, particularly in this live and on-line world we living in, but that don't shake off those yucky heebie-jeebies one tiny bit, nosireee...           Been involved with David Thomson's The Whole Equation, and one imagines had one remained on the left coast instead of traipsing off the way one has, one might have indulged in attending something of the D.Thomson/PFA programs that took place in January. It's an unwieldy read at times, if you're not inclined towards some occasional long-windedness, the kind of thing that a person truly enamored of his subject matter might occasionally indulge oneself in, you'll probably find yourself skipping over bits of it here and there. It is not a straightforward historical record of the American phenomenon recognised as Hollywood, it is much more than that. Some additional linky goodness references here: NPR Summer Reading Series excerpt; from The Nation, The Moviegoer; and then, what was likely the source of our initially hearing about The Whole Equation, from the New Yorker, Gross Points, from which, this excepted paragraph: And what is the main cinematic experience? The tickets, including the surcharge for ordering online, cost about the same as the monthly cable bill. A medium popcorn is five dollars; the smallest bottled water is three. The show begins with twenty minutes of commercials, spots promoting the theatre chain, and previews for movies coming out next Memorial Day, sometimes a year from next Memorial Day. The feature includes any combination of the following: wizards; slinky women of few words; men of few words who can expertly drive anything, spectacularly wreck anything, and leap safely from the top of anything; characters from comic books, sixth-grade world-history textbooks, or “Bulfinch’s Mythology”; explosions; phenomena unknown to science; a computer whiz with attitude; a brand-name soft drink, running shoe, or candy bar; an incarnation of pure evil; more explosions; and the voice of Robin Williams. The movie feels about twenty minutes too long; the reviews are mixed; nobody really loves it; and it grosses several hundred million dollars. These next two excerpts from Thomson's book and yea, verily, it might well require a tolerance for repetition, digression, first-person indulgence, and general narrative shagginess...; if you happen to be the type of person who ever imagined yourself in love with movies, film, cinema, however you label that experience, you might enjoy immersing yourself in Thomson's book. From Chapter 18, 'In a Lonely Place': The blacklist may be no more, but scoundrels and idiots in office still bandy about the notion of things being "un-American" or "expectiing too much" of audiences. Do not ask, in the chill of Homeland Security, how long we must wait for a black comedy in which our security agencies neglected crucial, tapped telephone calls because they lack the agents who speak the languages of the enemy. (Isn't it a begging sequel to Dumb and Dumber?) And as the insistence on the "greatness" of the United States becomes more extreme, so the taste for self-critism dies. As if a country founded on the philosophies of America ever needed to stoop to "un-American" as a test. How swiftly the ideal of multitudes and diversity shrank to a haunted hope for conformity. This from Chapter 22, 'That's All Folks!': I regret the way that America has elected to make films for its bluntest section of society and in ways that flatter them, and we have to recognize how much that is being done for the money. We have to find another way of measuring ourselves. And film is one of the few ways that might be done. Here and now, a twenty-four-hour period in which the people of the Middle East and the people of the United States simply watched a television record of that day in the other place-- call it unmediated documentary-- could be the most radical jolt to malice and political idiocy that we possess. So much in our films--American films now--supports the worst views held of us in other parts of the world: that we are combat-ready, aggressive, adolescent, greedy, sensationalists without humor, depth, or imagination, rampant devotees of technology (as opposed to enlightenment). later than the initial post of the day, sometime shortly after the mail arrived... fellow fans of Richard Thompson are likely already aware of his new recording, Front Parlor Ballads, and there's additional good news of more in the pipeline courtesy "Pick Six" from the 8.29 issue of the New Yorker. That issue also happens to contain more yummy stuff like the evocative poem by Ishmael Reed that will strike responsive chord in any of ye who've visited Inspiration Point in Berkeley, interesting piece entitled "The Shroud of Marin" that posits the question "How green is your funeral?", and more, but l'Marquis would like to quash the rumour currently rampant that he was the model for the cover of this week's issue, his butt is NOT a pale one...           some yucky health related issues going on in the life of yourstruly presently, and we'll not be examining nor dwelling upon them hereabouts (seek out the fine mygallbladderistryingtokillme.pitas.com weblog), but these issues have affected the amount of time one can comfortably sit and type, even our occasional lengthy perusal of bloggos favoritos has been curtailed, but here, before we leave for the day, a brief shout out to the fine minds behind whiskey river and manoverboard           be grateful for small favours gurlz und boyz, ye have no idea just how great the respite ye've received from our own tendencies towards repetition, digression, third-person indulgence, and general narrative shagginess...

MAN ATTACKED BY INFLAMED GALLBLADDER...       8.22.05 tune in to our Six O'Clock News report to get the complete story on that bulletin, but for now, it seems as tho' someone named Stumpy has had reason to celebrate recently. Happy B.D. you ol'dawg you and Hey, by the way, you might give someone in such precarious health as l'Marquis a heart attack with those frightening head-bobbing creations (in the blogroll) of yours (can we get one of those for our dashboard?). While we are at it, just where in the hell did Craig Jensen and his Booknotes go? Uhhhhh, nevermind, looks like he's back, but mebbe missing a few August posts? Once again, perhaps it is l'Marquis' very delicate situation that had him hallucinating last week when we wuz tryink to find Mr. Jensen, quien sabe... Okay, quick and dirty update on the Steven Gunnels Fidpac Super.nu debacle: the forum has come back online, and as it seems to have gotten way off topic, the old webhostingtalk thread is closed, and Miracle Of Miracles, Steve Gunnels has relaunched super.nu. Yes, incredible, No? Of course, there has been no attempt by him to initiate contact with ANY of his former customers, anyone interested in doing so has been invited to email him, whereupon one receives a wee lovely trite formula response that new servers are being set up, be patient, all will be well & good soon. BULLSHITE! BULLSHITE BULLSHITE! Such a scoundrel, this Steve Gunnels. Our own dear brother Ken, for example, had a sizeable account with super.nu, investing a pretty darned penny and got the news that he's only gonna get something in the neighborhood of 500 megs storage and a single domain. Well, Fuck You Very Much Steve Gunnels. egads, the nerve of this character. Please, any of you stopping by here BEFORE you jump between the sheets with that slime-laden, poor excuse of a human being (and there are plenty of hits coming this way via folks googling that Scurrilous Grafter's name) STAY FAR AWAY, do NOT ally yourself with that scoundrel, do NOT invest your hard earned cashola in support of his nefarious enterprise. Oh, if only l'Marquis had not been so lazily complacent hisowndamnedself (we thankful we didn't invest lots of dough) and heeded the warning signs we'd well been aware of. Remember, my sweet katz und kitteez, Steve Gunnels of Houston Tx, doing business as super.nu and who knows what other surreptitously created domain identities these days, is a Cad and a Scoundrel and Not To Be Trusted! Those of thee who make regular visits hereabouts are likely well aware of our propensity to include chunks of linky goodness that originate from that bastion of liberal journalism (oh Yah? Who sez!?), the Grey Lady herowndarnedself, well today will be no different. Did get a late start on the paper yesterday, what with brothers Dave & Ken, Ken's children Leala, Ken Jr. and Becky, plus (Surprise) brother Dan and lovely spouse Janet all stopping by the Momz house for visit yesterday, nevertheless two items we are compelled to avise you about: Frank Rich's The Swift Boating of Cindy Sheehan; from the Sunday Magazine, The Breaking Point; likely there be other items of interest, mebbe we mention one or two later on, lil' darlinks... Gee Gosh O'Whillikers, feel like we got lots and lots to say, that incredible dunce who happens to be the president of the good ol' u.s. of a. continues to inspire many hours of retching & is likely a major contributor to the decline in l'Marquis personal health, both physical AND psychological. Watched that final episode of Six Feet Under last night, and Yeeeesssssss, Binky, we know that too much T.V. is not good for anyone, but in that vast wasteland of Broadcast & Cable Television, there will occasionally be something memorably wonderful, extremely compelling, and often times, particularly in something episodic such as Six Feet Under, Deadwood, The Sopranos (all of these, as many of thee are already aware, HBO productions...) one gets caught up in those characters' dramas, the twist & turns of story & plot lines, that wee frisson of recognition when something hits a little close to home, courtesy that little miracle of well written script and well acted part. Awfully good of Alan Ball to know that all good things come to some manner of closure and avoid milking that cash cow for all that one could. Farewell to the Fisher family and all those lovely, dysfunctional (yet so terribly recognizable) individuals that we allowed into our homes on many sunday nights.

8.13.05       vacillating wildly between existing & not-existing...           and no, meinen katz und kitteez, not talking 'bout ourowndamnedself so much as the domain we been utilizing for some while, as well as the presence of this wee, tiny cafe/roadhouse out there on the information autobahn. The entire debacle resulting from that P.O.S. Steve Gunnels (yessss, darlink young ones, one day we'll never mention that cad's name ever again...) decision to cut & run, leaving his many clients high & dry, with nary a word of his intentions nor fore-warning, certainly not gentlemanly behavior, more like that of the lowest life forms, and we'll shy away from using names like, oh, low down weasel, skunk, slug, hyena, rat and the like, as that would be unfair and a disservice to weasels, skunks, slugs, hyenas and rats the world over. Let's simply leave the subject with your knowing that yourstruly has a Very Low Opinion of Steve H. Gunnels of Houston, Texas.           and neither will we describe the entire process we had to take part in and endure in order to regain some control over our damned domain, so much strife that l'Marquis was seriously (and still is, to some large degree) considering he'd had enough of all this, and what the fuck is the goddamned point anyway, eh? Surely, we're thankful for the faithfulness of the dedicated dozen who stop by on something more than an irregular basis, and ye can be sure, that for all of us here at le dumbmonkey AKA unindicted co-conspirator AKA platillo volador & pococurante.net enterprises (minions and high chief muckymuck together) it's never been about the numbers, no, certainly not, dat be fo' sure. We're thankful for the perserverance of a fellow whose initials are P.K., laboring for the entity known as Tucows/OpenSRS, as we are certain without his assistance and willingness to "hang in there" alongside us, made it possible for l'Marquis to maintain his precious domain name, wresting it from the clutches of that Slimebag Goofball, so now, when we finally determine which hosting outfit we'll enlist the services of (a pleasant surprise to find out that our longtime amiga MellieMel of Queens N.Y. is a reseller herowndarnedself), perhaps our brother Ken will try on that reseller thing himself, as his own online presence at Cerulean-Graphics and Piratescum have also been scuttled and sunk by that Shitheel Genital-wart, oh and believe us when we tell you he too, as was yourstruly, righteously pissed off...           had a dream recently within which our ol' Dad appeared to us, first time he'd made a visit in a long time. It was sweet, something to do with a homecoming and our embrace shortly after entering the door recalled memories of the last time he had made solo vacation visit to yourstruly at our Albany home, our realization there of how fragile he had become, not so fragile that he would break if squeezed too roughly, just fragile in the sense of not having previous recognition or perception of that in him before. Despite the health difficulties he managed to handle pretty well, he always seemed mighty vital and strong, for a man in his seventh decade. Anyway, after our long embrace in dream, he was guided away by the Momz, off to bathe and shower, and then the dream was over. His passing has been the primary reason that yourstruly's been spending a lot of time back in the desert southwest where he made his home, the reasons are many and complicated, and it's likely that event has also been significant in our contemplation of this mortal plane, likely also having acheived a particular personal milestone in that regard, we also see a goodly of our peers, many we don't know personally to be sure, running out of heartbeats and passing on. Not to encourage ye to dwell on the uncomfortable reality that awaits us all, but what the hey, some good reading here regardless; from last Sunday's NY Times Magazine, In Search of the Good Death; a week or so ago, movie review about Gus Van Zant's latest in the New Yorker, film is entitled Last Days. Quote at the end of the review caught l'Marquis' attention: Such, perhaps, is the most drastic choice available to the revolutionary: if you want to change the world, and it resists changing, than you might consider bidding it farewell. Some of you who are attuned to spending time with the idiot box and maybe have some familiarity with the world of network news are likely aware that the ABC nightly news anchor Peter Jennings died, after having announced his departure from his daily duties some months ago when he began what was his final struggle, the mighty foe being lung cancer. My Popz fave newscaster was Dan Rather (between ourselves we had a running joke for a couple of years, inspired by a D. Rather real life broadcast habit, that whenever we (le Popz avec l'Marquis) would part ways or end a phone conversation, we'd bid each other "Courage"...), the Momz has long had an unrequited crush on the dean of modern anchorfolk, ol' Walter Cronkite hisowndamnedself. Far as we were concerned, it became easier to stomach Jennings than either of the other fellows, wethinks some little while back, just shortly after the retirement announcements of Mssrs Brokaw & Rather, yourstruly spouted off something hereabouts regarding how it likely be time that Mr Jennings ought to retire, this was, by way of clarification, some time before his on-air announcement about his illness, ANYWAY...   there have been some fine sentiments voiced by folks in their memorials to Peter Jennings and we not shy about mentioning that we were (surprisingly) moved by many of them, and we learned a lot more about this fellow than we had been aware of heretofore, an awfully decent chap, it seems, and much more worldly & grounded (in our not so humble -- and ye can take that to the bank-- opinion) than his peers. Oh, there are other things going on in the backround here and we'll not trouble ye with them, some struggles that our Momz is having with sister of hers and surrounding dramas, seems we might be kinda oversensitized to matters having to do with struggles on this earthly plane of late.           okay, then, we wrapping this up kinda pronto quickly now. The Slovenly Guttersnipe debacle continues, 25 pages and counting at the webhosting talk thread (that forum at www.gunnels.october.com.au was really worth checking out, and that fellow named Dan might qualify for P.O.S. status hisowndamnedself after what he did to Craig D.). Suchafuckingmess...           great movie we caught the other day (via the magick of cable television), maybe ye can find it yourselves, netflix or whatever, lengthy thing it is, but SOLID entertainment, one of the best of Bollywood, of that we are sure and we heartily & wholeheartedly (!!!) recommend Lagaan; Once Upon a Time in India quick personal note to great pal of mine, yessssss, indeed, Ms. Thing, we got your postcard and have been attempting to reply with lengthy handwritten reply, bear with us a while longer if ye will, okay? there be struggles afoot hereabouts and just taking care of the few paras above was about all we could handle presently...

regaining & maintaining one's equilibrium...       8.7.05 such a mess, all this Steve Gunnels, Fidpac, Super.nu hosting mess, basically burned out on most of our angry, spiteful & vengeful sorts of feelings (much of that vengefulness still on a medium simmer though, truth be told...). Currently in the midst of getting something set up with another host but there's a problem with the domain name we had registered thru super.nu and that's all we're gonna say 'bout that otherwise we gonna fuck up a perfectly decent sunday with anger and bitterness, something not typical of l'Marquis' style. couple of items of note to mention, when reading this story in the NY Times the other day, we could see those fine love apples on display in the Berkeley Bowl and we'd love the oppt'y to point ye in the direction of previous post of ours from last year when we were growing some pretty damn nice tomatoes of our own, the cosmonaut volkov's were beauties, but alas, katz und kitteez, we cannot, and we've all got that P.O.S. Steve Gunnels to thank for that. something caught our eye the other day when perusing the npr.org site seeking more info on story we'd heard broadcast earlier, fellow fans of the lovely Lucinda ought to be aware of concert being broadcast TONIGHT, that's this (Sunday! Sunday! Sunday!) evening for those of ye who are dumbmonkey-comprehension challenged, Visit this link for more info... and t'was during some recent late night sessions in front of the ol' idiot box that yourstruly has seen D. Letterman and lil' Jonny Stewart having some fun with the cad-ministration's recent modification of phraseology to justify their idiotic martial campaign, we thought they wuz just joking, but no, oh we wuz wrong, so so wrong. From the current New Yorker (8/8 & 15), Name Calling, from George Packer. Let's see now, how many kids were killed just last week? We're certain their families are all comforted in knowing that the cad-ministration has got a real handle in their global struggle against violent extremism.

fools born every minute...       8.3.05
likely even more often than that, these days, why else would we have a complete and utter idiot like George W. Bush elected president TWICE? Anyway, things are kinda fucked up around here as you can see, yourstruly in the midst of trying to pick up the pieces of being bamboozled, hornswoggled and just plain cheated by some piece of shite known as Steve Gunnels, one time proprietor of a number of web-hosting services, well, let's call a spade a spade, right Binky, web-hosting rip offs. That P.O.S. has gone and done it now and el chango tonto is not the only person pissed off about it, and particularly because of the degree of helplessness one experiences in this kind of situation. We'll get into more detail at a later post but to kind of fill you in on the story, try visiting the thread you'll find posted here; results from googling Steve Gunnels will (awww, c'mon Binky, ye can do that yourowndarnedself) will provide you this result at the top of the list. Speaking personally, l'Marquis has plenty of reason to be kicking himself square in his big brown dumbmonkey ass, particularly because we signed back up to do business with this P.O.S. in March, after learning our old server IP -- well, goddammit, it's too long a story to get into here, let's just say that most of the time, we got what we needed out of Gunnels & Co., at the very least, they answered their email and made some effort to rectify any problem we had, but now, that P.O.S. has really put the chingas to us and we'd like nothing better than to return the favour. SO- l'Marquis is going to begin with the usual channels, like the Texas Att'y Generals Office, and we'll shortly add our complaint to those already on file against Fidpac with the Houston Tx Better Business Bureau (a more useless and futile gesture has seldom existed but what the hey, eh?). And be forewarned, katz und kittezz, it's all gonna be about this shite around here for a while. l'Marquis may not have the deepest of pockets, but he's a resourceful motherfucker and is also currently in the state of texass, so watch out Steve Gunnels. You big dumb shite, least you could do is send a letter of explanation and apology but no, you have to be all lowlife and criminal about it, you scumbag....

thunderstorms in and around the EPTx environs...       8.1.05
but very little evidence of precipitation in our immediate vicinity. Some flooding in both Lower & Upper Valleys on Saturday, Canutillo was a muddy mess, some folks out in Horizon City were nearly knee-deep in it, yet other than the occasional brief sprinkle, the N.E. has remained rather dry, so please, clerk of the weather, a bit of rain sent our way would be appreciated, the newly planted trees are doing fine, but need the experience...
that's Dick's up there folks, on Valley Dr (pretty sure it ain't a boulevard) off University in Las Cruces, some pretty decent eats there, nothing special, they just get the job done. Spent most of Saturday morning in LC, visiting the farmers/craftspersons market held very Weds. and Saturday at what's referred to as the Downtown Mall, tho' if thine experience leads you to believe a mall is a multi-storied, air-conditioned retail environment anchored by a couple of big department stores surrounded by the variety of a few dozen lesser retailers and lousy muzak, well, that's not what you'll find in downtown LC. Nice used bookstore there, and other than that, not much really in the way of retail establishments. Some galleries, a little hole in the wall cafe, a playhouse and lots of empty space to let, but on Wednesday and Saturdays though, place can get pretty lively, definitely a lot more produce available than you'll find at the Ardovino's Farmer's Market in Sunland Park nearer EPTx (which is a REAL disappointment if you go there thinking you will actually find a farmer's market), plenty of vendors of this and that, and many of those vendors happen to be the artisans themselves. A few miles away, they hold a wee market (on Sundays) on the plaza in Old Mesilla and the rule there is that if you didn't make it, you can't display/vend your wares there. In the course of our very enjoyable LC morning yourstruly took note of humongous thunderhead over the Organ Mtns, the dark grey sheeting beneath likely indicating some sizeable shower activity taking place, and we kept hoping that storm was on a southerly heading (ye can develop a sizeable longing for the scent and sound of rain falling after spending some time in the desert) but in the hours spent attending to tasks at hand, heading over to Dick's for lunch, after which we heading back to EPTx, nada, amigos, not one drop, not even the merest sprinkle, goshdarnitall...
Sunday! Sunday! Sunday! spent pleasantly en famille, after l'Marquis' morning search for the NY Times and pool cleaning chores, brother Ken showed up with Ken Jr, Leala & the Becky-Teen-Monster in tow, along with the added bonus of large pot of gumbo,our minor disagreement with his calling this gumbo was twofold: A- it did not containt okra in any shape or form; B- he did not use file powder, but yourstruly had to admit, it was plenty yummy, nevertheless (despite our experiencing some, ahhhhhh...     well, gaseous discomfort some hours afterward). Hermanito David arrived shortly after, with Matthias y Miguelito alongside. A scrabble game ensued where Leala eventually (with some large reliance on the K. Pivarnick Brain Trust) won, besting young Miguelito by a single point (truth be told tho', his gentlemanly behavior likely provided L. the win as when the Brain Trust appeared stumped during a late-game turn, he stepped in with suggestion providing nice number of points scored). Nice time was had by all, lots of comfort to be had with being surrounded by family amidst a decided lack of drama, sturm und drang, lesser behaviors, all those kinda things that can have family get-togethers leave a bad taste in one's mouth.
alright, let's open up the delightful (and hopefully, as far as local environs go, thunderstorm laden) month of August with some chewy nougats of linky goodness. A couple of coinkydinky kinda things here, a primero, end of last month we posted something about two boot making operations here on la frontera, a day or so afterwards, we came across NY Times item, Girls in Boots. It was also late in June we made note of film by Aki Kaurismaki we wuz recommending to one and all, brief mention of Jim Jarmusch's appearance in Leningrad Cowboys... ('hidden' w/in link), and, well, what do ye know, Sunday's NYT magazine has story on Mr. Jarmusch including a wee bit 'bout his new film, Broken Flowers (and we sure hoping that movie gets out this way, but likely we have to see it when we back in Bay Area in Sept./Oct. or so...). Alright, next bunch of links we listing here, well, in one way or another led folks to the d'monkey environs and we certainly appreciate it. One of these damn days (maybe spend a few days at brother Ken's and take advantage of that fat pipe set up) we've got to accomplish major overhaul of pococurante.net, the allies & autreblog pages and maybe even take dumbmonkey out of the Pitas era. Hah! Okay, here goes:
Just Buffalo Literary Center; afarensis: Anthropology, Evolution and Science; MemeMachineGo!;
Mouse Musings; The Goddess; BAIT blogroll, and yesssss, Binky, that's quite enough, ain't it...

p.s. - nice to see Melanie about again; yes ma'am, we'll try and 'settle down'...

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