"Nucular"

At the conclusion of Kubrick's classic Dr. Strangelove there's a ballet of nuclear explosions set against a wistful "We'll Meet Again". The result was the quintessence of black comedy. More recently, the pairing of music and repetitive declassified atomic test footage has become a genre unto itself.
Tired of the usual grind of skateboard and/or surf movies with their predictable driving guitar soundtracks? Then move on up to countless hours of atomic blast movies, where ANY music score will add to the irony and fun! And, of course, you can easily find 'em on YouTube.com. Luckily for you I've done all the hard work and provided the following highlights:

Pure Armageddon abandonment Here

Same footage, different soundtrack Here

Mash-Up style Here

Holocost gone Classical Here

Extremely scary underground blast Here

...and more Here, Here, & Here

Below is my favorite (yet not entirely musical) clip which pits mannequins -"Mr. and Mrs. America"- against a very severe atomic heat rash.

Mandatory Viewing

Crunchy Golden Chums of Pop

actual size

Here's my impromptu sketch of The Gold State's performance, which took place earlier this evening on the west-side of LA. It was a good, but too brief, set. Many fine feathered friends attended, ta'boot. Such events are a much better alternative to the usual way I spend my Sundays, which typically means staring off into space and drooling. I'm glad that I didn't have to drive all the way to Pedro or Long Beach this time. From now on, everyone brings their band into my town for my convenience.

Treasures from Uncle John's Sock Drawer

Unifinished titles to an unfinished show called "Impact Family". The concept featured a cartoon family (Dottie, Matt & Zoe) flying through space in a car. They continue into deep space searching the dial for a decent radio station, never to be heard from again. All of them wear the same eerie consternated expression for no reason other than I thought it was amusing.

Throw me some money and I'll finish it.

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And Another Dandy's Inferno Clip

OK, this was all my friend Tony's idea. I was just the hired hand who held the camera and tended to the "stunt cat" between takes. I thought that maybe, just maybe, if I put these movies up here that someone would notice... that I'd get some respect. That's all, just a little respect.

Enjoy.

Contractual Post

Fellow Kids,

I'm all grown up now and I'm all out of ironic comments. From here on I'm only going to write poetry about seagulls and tips on understanding escrow --plus, delicious new bundt cake recipes. I've consumed enough at Walmart and watched enough TV for 50 men, and now I am made whole in the eyes of social workers everywhere. A distilled and pliant man. I hereby surrender my soul to a future of shuffleboard tournaments and an I.V. line full of iced tea. I used to afraid of this sort of life, surrounded by doilies and porcelain figurines of dutch girls with geese. But, I must say, it's like a pair of soft slippers padding on purple clouds here on the "other side". You'll just have to carry on and don't worry about me.

ZZzZzzzzzzzzzz...

Meanwhile, here's a nice photo of an old firehouse in downtown LA that I took several months back. They don't make firehouses like they used to. They're not as cute. I think Donald Duck worked here in the 30's.

What's it all about Mr. Aquanaut Man?

Eat your heart out Matthew Barney

A few installation shots from 2001.

In retrospect, I'm not sure what we were thinking, but here's the result. The cowboy video (see previous post) was on the TV looping perpetually. [I dropped a plank of lumber on my foot during construction, shedding a toenail from my big toe. I knew that cowboys don't cry, so neither did I.] There were four installations in the gallery. The LA Weekly reviewed the show but made no mention of Aquanaut. That's the price you pay for being too conceptually firebrand.

inspiration: rolls of southwestern wallpaper

aficionados of fine art and excellent brew;
both of these guys look familiar

a desert oasis mood lamp

generic production still

AQUANAUT

Mortality and Dated References

Sometimes people ask me, "How do you keep your hands so soft, so supple?" And of course I tell them "Palmolive dishwashing liquid". Then I pick the person off the floor and go on to explain, "Once I discovered how youthful-looking Palmolive detergent got my hands, I began to build a whole lifestyle around it".

Now I top all my foods off with a dollop of Palmolive liquid. I take sips of it from a flask throughout the day. As a result, I have a continuous flow of soap bubbles percolating from my nostrils. People seem to stay their distance (except for asking about my amzingly soft hands). I am at peace.

madge died in '04

Contemplating the Big Loaf

Maybe putting these videos up over the last several days isn't exactly fair. It's like saying, "here kids, watch TV! I'm just too important and busy for ya!". It's true, I've been neglecting the obligations of personalized journaling and using the tube to babysit y'all.

OK, here's the scoop... I've been distracted by being down in the alley shooting dice with the boys. I'm also working on a epic movie that'll only be shown on this blog. It's full of chariot races and crane shots of Rome burning in full scale. Investors welcome.

Meanwhile, here's my artful interpretation of Joey Polanski by twilight:

Joey.
He's nicer to his readers than I am.

Guest Video

I appreciate this guy. Give it up for Darrell Bluett.

Intermission

From the folks who brought you Dandy's Inferno -- yes, it's another bit of "art" ephemera from me and Tony de los Reyes. Think of it as a thumbnail for a psychological thriller which crosses between themes of alienation, vintage movies, and impotence. Like I said, it's ART, baby! Thanks to Jeff Miller & Dirk and Andy (overcoat thugs extraordinaire).

What's This Then?

I made this for a Mother's Day themed art show several years back. It went unfinished so I tacked on a cheesy ending at the last minute. It was supposed to be about terraforming the planet on a magical steamroller going in reverse... yeah, you know the one. That's me Mum pitching in as the archtypal Babushka. Isn't it cuuuute?

Other Folk's Photos: Random Mess Series

More found photos from the wellspring of estate sales and thrift stores.

Apologies

I want to apologize for the preceding post which was just wrong on so many levels. At least this place has a fresh paint job and a new template. We now resume with our usual wholesome family entertainment.

Thank you.

Geritopia Management

Dog Shit

[To be read with a hand-wringing Andy Rooney-esque whine]

What sparks the turning point in human behavior, and just what do I mean by this? Well, let me tell you. I'm talking about the popular use of plastic bags, usually saved over from the produce dept., finding utility as dog shit scooper-upper devices. Just how did this next level in dog-walking etiquette go completely unexamined, and is it ultimately meaningful or just lending to a false sense of personal responsibility in an out-of-touch world?

Rewind to simpler times. It used to be a world full of clean-cut gas station attendants sporting white uniforms. Yes it was a bountiful America, replete with petticoat girls and lazy lemonade stands. It was Sophie Tucker on the victrola, a bumper crop of corn, and loose chunks of dog shit rolling around the lawn. Yes, I said loose, unaccounted for, and haphazard chunks of dog shit everywhere --and people didn't die!

ever wonder just how much dog shit is out there?

I recall walking to school each morning, having to dance around perilous canine excrement left behind by dogs and their owners during the previous night. Each pile was a signature: some were fresh steamers; some were festooned with embedded crayon bits; some could be mistaken for perfectly delectable Tootsie Rolls; and some were crazy-looking white and powdery, having seen better days. It was all fair game. Dog shit happened.

Then something changed all that simplicity.

Communities are now less integrated; there are more chain-link fences to separate us; people walk in straight determined paths not daring to look into the eyes of an on-coming pedestrian. We lead insular, self-focused lives. So it follows that our humanity never goes out for a walk, but for the grace of our beloved and fashionable dog. And so an opportunity is born for us to give back to our world by bending down and deftly handling fresh hot turds and disposing of them personally. By picking up our dog shit we are saying, "I'm progressive and I'm doing my part to expose the Bush Administration". By picking up our dog shit we exclaim, "in this litigious society I'm protecting you as I protect myself, not that I really give a shit".

Is this really where we want to go, folks?!!! I mean, for heaven'sake, WAKE-UP! Let friends, family and neighbors step in dog shit and stop this pious busy-body effort to rescue everyone from it!

Let America stand firm!