In Which Otis and I Issue a Plea to MC Hammer

Emily Wilska posted to Michael Richman

Hammer, we're asking you very gently and politely: please strongly consider not hurting 'em.

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Michael Richman

The world is a dangerous, endlessly violent place, Hammer. Perhaps it's God's plan; perhaps there is no God. We will likely never know. What we do know, Hammer, is that adding pain to an already painful existence is not the Peaceful Way as Buddha describes it. Ergo, if you should be considering the act of hurting 'em, Hammer, won't you please, please think again?

Emily Wilska

May we suggest perhaps putting on a nice comfortable pair of loose-fitting pants, say, and engaging in some relaxing and rejuvenating dancing rather than hurting 'em? We will uphold our promise to respect your wishes that we not touch this.

Michael Richman

We know, we know. You've toured around the world. From Mother England to the San Francisco Bay area. And while it might be frustrating, everywhere you go, that "It's Hammer go, MC Hammer, Hammer, yo! Hammer!" and the rest can go and play we request respectfully that you simply consider all of these souls to be as much a citizen of the world as you are. Hammer? Are you listening to us, Hammer? MC Hammer? Yo? Hurting 'em doesn't solve anything. Regardless of your latitude / longitude. It's about going and PLAYING, Hammer. Not - we must repeat - NOT - about hurting 'em.

Emily Wilska

Know what, Hammer? You--no one else, just you--have the power to redefine Hammer Time, to take it back, to remove the smudges and the sting. Do people think that Hammer Time, by its very nature, involves hurting 'em? Maybe. Maybe they do. But that doesn't have to be the case. Rise up, Hammer. Heed the higher call. We know you have it in you.

Michael Richman

Hammer, you're a better person than 'em. 'Em are just trying to get a **rise** out of you, Hammer. And you know, what? If you hurt 'em, Hammer, you're just going to GIVE 'EM WHAT THEY WANT. Don't give 'em the satisfaction, Hammer. 'Em aren't worth your time. You know what **is** worth your time, Hammer? Serving God. That'll take the better part of the next decade or two. Why not start now? Or? What about medical school, Hammer? Ever thought of MD Hammer? Now, that has a ring to it, doesn't it?

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Girl Scout Cookies Reconsidered

Phone conversation with my sister-in-law this afternoon

Me: It's totally relative, but I was surprised to discover that Tagalongs have fewer calories than I thought. And my client gave me a box of Do-Si-Dos a few weeks back, and those weren't bad at all.

Sara: Yeah, but Do-Si-Dos are kind of the bastard cousin of Tagalongs.

Me: True. They are sort of redneck-y.

Sara: Do-Si-Dos are like...like Billy Carter. You know--Tagalongs win the Nobel Peace Prize and all. And then there's Do-Si-Dos.

[In case I haven't mentioned, I have the best sister-in-law ever. EVER.]

Maybe it makes sense in the original German

From Austrian Airlines' online booking page:

Evidently there are no Frauleins in Austria, and the Dr. part matters more for women than for men.

So, since I have to choose an inaccurate salutation anyway, should I take this opportunity to temporarily grant myself a doctorate?

Songs for an Achy but Hopeful Heart

I just watched, in his Tiny Desk concert from All Songs Considered, John Darnielle of the Mountain Goats sing "Going to Georgia," and promptly embarked on a brief but intense crying jag. (You, too, should take 12 minutes and 39 seconds to watch the full little concert, explosion of tears optional.)

What the hell with the sobbing? It's not a depressing song--in fact, if anything, it's precisely the opposite, fast and loud and insane with what sounds like the shiny hope of young love. And yet, it punched me squarely in the chest. So I listened to it again. And again. Then once more.

The last song that (figuratively) knocked me on my butt in the same way was the National's "Slow Show," which I listened to about 5 times on repeat when, on my way to the library early last November, I actually paid attention to what it had to say. That whole "You know I dreamed about you/for 29 years before I saw you" thing did me in--though in a generally good, hopeful way at that point.

A few weeks hence, that all seemed to play out nicely. At least for a little while.

But back to "Going to Georgia." Though the track from the album doesn't quite have the same flat-out, pedal-to-the-metal energy and thrill of the live version, I decided it must immediately go on a playlist, along with other songs that are either therapeutic in their feel-your-pain misery (Elliott Smith, I'm looking at you) or, in the interest of being fair and balanced, somewhere on the spectrum from cautiously to flamingly, unabashedly hopeful.

So here's where you come in. Because I'm in the mood for some surprises, I leave the other entries on this playlist up to you, my, um, extensive readership. Your recommendations for good cryin'-in-yer-drink or I-defy-you-to-resist-hope songs? Lay them on me in the comments. (Yes, sometimes I cry in my drink while listening to the sweet, shiny, hopeful stuff, but don't let that stop you.)

My only guidelines: nothing bitter, nothing angry, nothing saccharine, nothing religious, no speed metal, no smooth jazz (just because), and R&B or slow jams only if absolutely, positively necessary (and, really, when are they ever?). Everything else is fair game.

Gimme what you got. And in the meantime, get yourself to the NPR Music site and listen to John Darnielle's little gembox song stories. They're good for what ails you.

Grand Delusion? Of Zipcar and the iPhone

Among the things I'm sorely tired of is the fact that my car is parked in a garage that's about 5 1/2 blocks from my house, necessitating a trek every time I want to drive somewhere. You'd think that, several years into this arrangement, I would have mastered the art of adding 7-8 minutes onto my estimated transit time, allowing me to get wherever I'm going when I'm actually supposed to be there, but no. I'm late impressively often.

I rent a garage not so much because it's a drag to look for parking in Hayes Valley (it is, but I'm often around during odd times and could hypothetically score some decent spots), but because I am forever scarred by the fact that my car got broken into twice within the first month I'd moved here. The logic goes that I'd rather pay to rent a garage space than pay to have one of my car windows fixed yet again.

But I may be reaching the end of the line here. My car, a luxurious 1993 Toyota Corolla, still runs like a champ, but I have a sneaking suspicion that the automotive equivalent of slow, steady internal bleeding is happening under the hood, and that one of these days I'm going to discover that I need to replace, like, everything.

So all of this got me thinking about the possibility of selling the car, ditching the garage space, and signing up with Zipcar, which has a lot literally at the end of my block. No more stupid trek to Fulton Street, no more garage rent, no more worries about emergency Corolla surgery--just a nice little Mini there when I need it (more or less).

I go back and forth on the math and the pros and cons here. Would I ultimately save money if I joined Zipcar, given how much I drive? Would I severely regret not having a car at my disposal every single time I needed it, no question? Would I be inspired to take Muni more often--and, as a result, to put up with an even longer chunk of transit time?

Come with me on this little logic detour for a moment. Thinking about taking Muni made me think, Well, it could be reasonable if I had a phone that let me go to NextBus to figure out whether I'd be better off waiting for the 21 or whether I'd be better off walking/driving/cursing SF's public transit. And then: You know, a phone like, say, an iPhone. And then: Because if I didn't have to shell out for garage rent, gas, and insurance every month, I'd have an additional chunk of money that I could obliterate on something else, such as one of AT&T's expensive-ass monthly plans. Me, Zipcar, my iPhone: what a happy trio we would be.

All of this sets aside for the moment the fact that I loathe AT&T and fear I wouldn't be able to use an iPhone as a phone in or near my house because of the crappy reception (though Nir sat on my sofa last week and demonstrated to me the upward tick of the bars on his iPhone and then sent a bunch of texts as a bonus). But my desire for a new Apple gadget is such that I might be willing to give AT&T the benefit of the doubt that they're ever going to do a damn thing to improve reception in SF. Hope springs eternal.

So here's my request: persuade me one way or the other. Adios to the voiture and hello to the iPhone? Stick with the Corolla and the (cough, cough) first-generation Motorola Razr (hey, it still works after being dropped more times than I'm willing to admit)? Sign up for Zipcar but wait on the iPhone? Leave me a comment and sway my decision.

Sing it, David!

Just when you think David Allen is vanilla and corporate, along comes something like this (from his most recent newsletter):

Certainly being able to maintain a positive vision amidst the challenging and often messy day-to-day stuff is a wonderful life skill to hone. But you may need to be judicious and pick your battles. Though the storm you're in is probably going to make you stronger and wiser, right now you might not like it. Your choice is how you get through it - as victim, or as captain/commander. In other words: life's a bitch, and what's the next action?

Procrastination Tools of the Week

I've had a productive few weeks here in the early stretch of 2009, which clearly means it's time for a bit of procrastination. There's always Facebook, Flickr, and the passel of blogs I follow (see sidebar), but sometimes my time-wasting needs to be a bit more specialized. Here's what I've been turning to lately when I need to kill time creatively.

The Black Cab Sessions
The schtick: indie musicians play songs in the back of a London cab. (What musicians, you might ask? A safe rule of thumb is that if you've heard them on All Songs Considered, they've also played a number in the back of the cab.) It's sort of like a (very) mini concert with only you (and the cabbie and the videographer) as the audience.

For the record: Jens Lekman, you can play in the backseat of my car anytime.

Diamond Dave
Words don't do it justice. Just go there and click around. I defy you not to giggle (or at least chuckle). My recommendation is to leave the site open in its own tab/window all day for easy access when you need a DLR fix, which you might find happens surprisingly often.

Daily Routines
A compendium of articles and blurbs detailing the daily habits of various artists, authors, designers, and other public figures (Mr. Rogers included), Daily Routines has the potential to make you feel both much, much better and much, much worse about your own level of productivity. I especially like Stefan Sagmeister's take on the breakfast of champions.

You're both sentient

Match.com (yes; quiet) has this new-ish feature in which they (it? whatever) offer for your perusal what they call the Daily 5: five profiles of people they feel you might be interested in, based on your own profile, geography, and stated preferences.

Now, I can understand the need to sort of go wide here in order to cough up five new people each and every day, even in a city like SF, where online dating is not exactly a novelty. But still, there seems to be more than a bit of reaching happening. To wit, the criteria on which today's five potential matches were presented to me:

#1:

• You both fancy felines.
• Like you, he's not a smoker.
• He's also interested in bowling.

#2:

• Like you, he's not a smoker.
• He's also interested in bowling.
• He's athletic and toned.

#3:

• Like you, he's not a smoker.
• He's also interested in bowling.
• He's athletic and toned.

#4:

• You both fancy felines.
• Like you, he's not a smoker.
• He has a graduate degree.

#5:

• Like you, he's not a smoker.
• Pretty impressive - he has a Ph.D.
• Both of you are into swimming.

My list of desirables, I'm afraid, goes far beyond being a non-smoker (though that's, like, 1000% non-negotiable) and being up for the occasional evening of bowling. If Match would tweak the algorithm they use here to include things like "Like you, he can correctly punctuate a sentence," "Pretty impressive--he doesn't use the phrases 'I work hard and I play hard' and 'I'm into exploring new things' in his profile," and "He's a tall, skinny, cute kind-of-alternaboy-but-not-one-with-an-ironic-mullet who has a thing for Canadian pop and salted caramel and understands why you snort drinks out your nose for laughing so hard when watching 'Arrested Development,'" I might put a bit more stock in this tool.

As it is, though, the Daily 5's success rate is currently on par with allowing my 6-month-old niece to select for me. (Actually, she might even do a better job; I should enlist her help.) Perhaps Match can follow the lead of Netflix and offer $1 million to whoever can improve their algorithm by the greatest number of percentage points. I'm happy to be your equivalent of "Napoleon Dynamite" and "I Heart Huckabees," guys; I might well be that baffling in my tastes.

Oh, and in closing, a note to any potential suitors: don't let Match's hackneyed attempt at alliteration convince you to add the phrase "I fancy felines" to your profile. Very much not OK.

Damsel

What, no boi? (From the Digg profile edit page.)

Americans Officially No Longer World's Most Obnoxious Tourists

"They scream, they sing, they fall down, they take their clothes off, they cross-dress, they vomit."

--Konstantinos Lagoudakis, mayor of Malia, Greece, quoted in "Some Britons Too Unruly For Resorts In Europe," by Sarah Lyall, New York Times, Sunday, August 24, 2008

Officially the Least of My Concerns

Headline of the Day

Thanks, New York Times, for this info we didn't know we needed:

Bacteria Thrive in Inner Elbow; No Harm Done

Please Don't

A few things Stadia Suites, Santa Fe, DF would like you to know:

Rules and Regulations

4th Clause. It is strictly forbidden to:
A) Make annoying noises, start a fight, introduce musicians, pets, and in general, cause disturbances that make other guests feel uncomfortable.
B) The use of Suites for gambling or any other illegal action that may disturb the public order or break the law.
C) The use of electrical outlets and appliances for a different purpose than the one originally intended for.
D) To damage the furniture, ornaments, or any other Stadia Suites' properties by giving it improper use.
E) Carry out any act that may damage the other guests, the property and employees or that goes against the social rules and good behavior.
F) Any act that can cause damage to the hotel, to the rest of the guests or affect the commonwealth.

[I'm happy to report that, as of night #2, I'm still on the right side of these rules and regs: no pets or musicians introduced, no electrical tomfoolery, no improper use of ornaments, and no damaging other guests. Two more nights to go.]

Random nattering

Sometimes I forget the simple, ridiculous joys of IM:

missquickly [Dana]: want anything from le big apple?
me: hmmm...
nothing springs to mind
missquickly: some real estate perhaps?
sorry, projecting
me: nah, I'll take my real estate in a snow-less clime
too wimpy
missquickly: ahh
been living here too long [nose wink]
me: the blood has thinned
missquickly: the skin too
me: indeed
missquickly: it's going to be so cold over there, even now!
it's supposed to snow in boston tomorrow
me: yikes
I don't miss it
missquickly: i romanticize it
but i'm glad not to slog through slush for 5 months
me: perhaps you're hearing the call of the Alaskan wilderness
missquickly: nice
me: no, wait, that's Eddie Vedder
they sound so similar
missquickly: the tender moose meat and fine accomodations
are you in mill valley this weekend, or was that last weekend?
me: that was last weekend
missquickly: how was that?
me: not bad
the hotel was nice but unexciting
missquickly: like mill valley
me: and I'd never before realized just how crazy small town MV really is
it's like 1955
missquickly: which could be kind of awesome
me: except for the bands of disaffected Mill Valley youth
missquickly: MV skin heads?
me: such as it were--sort of poor little rich kids
mini Chris McCandlesses in the making
missquickly: oh no
they break the fourth wall
me: they'll, like, hike up into Mt. Tam with only a few Twix bars and some Vitamin Water for all of the summer
missquickly: ha!
and live in an abandoned refrigerator they find at the top
me: [grin]
missquickly: actually i think they sell hot dogs on top of mt tam
me: well, surely at least a few of these kids are vegan
missquickly: are twix vegan?
me: though there may be Tofu Pups
probably not
missquickly: mmmm
me: I love peanut butter twix
just for the record
missquickly: good to know
more than kinder eggs?
me: I enjoy Kinder Eggs for the toys, but the chocolate doesn't thrill me
I find myself unable to comprehend white chocolate
I mean, what's the point?
missquickly: true
i think it's not technically chocolate
it's... white
me: quote chocolate unquote
missquickly: indeed