NATO, Running, Mannn

Haven't been on in a few days, alternately too busy, too bored, etc. to post. May's here already? WTF? I have this weird sense of time speeding along and dragging, as well. Can't believe summer's almost here. The city's getting all squirrelly about the upcoming NATO summit, expecting protests and what-not. I can't honestly imagine much happening, despite the breathless intonations of worry by the local newsies, etc. I mean, of all the things for Americans (particularly Chicagoans) to riot about, is NATO really high on that list? I'm just not seeing it. I mean, May Day passed comparatively quietly over here, so, barring something extraordinary, I'm thinking NATO will come and go quietly as well. If we were in Berlin, I might say there's a chance of big protests, but in the Midwest? Nah.

Blogger changed their format, bending the knee to their Google masters. In making it more Google-friendly than it was before, they've altered the layout of their site, which kinda bugs me. It feels less user-friendly to me. The posted entries look the same, of course, but the setup isn't quite right.

Did I mention that Exene got into the NY Marathon. She's predictably stoked about that. She'll be running three marathons in a row this fall, like September, October, November. That's in addition to doing an Iron Man triathlon this summer. That cray-cray. One of the many reasons for divorcing her was the endless hours she spent running, trusting me to work full-time and tend the boys while she was off running. Running is a hobby for those with a lot of time on their hands, without a lot of obligations (or with a partner willing to take care of the obligations while that person is off running -- especially if a person is doing serious distance-running, where the mileage piles up). Because in addition to the running, there's also the down-time as the running gets back and rests after their run. She's hoping to get B1 to run, to repeat her own pathology in him, but I don't think he'll be into it, in truth. Because it's not actually fun. You ever see runners at marathons? Even the elite ones look like they're in agony, let alone the tens of thousands of punters who are running in their wake.

Although this is definitely NOT Exene, I have noticed runner chicks who run while fully made up. That seems just insane to me. Makeup while running?? WTF? It looks bizarre. My nickname for them is "Spiffs."

Beyond the Wheel

Did I mention getting a new back wheel for my bike? A whole new rim? That frickin' tire would misalign every year, and this year, I finally had a spoke break, so I was just through with it, told the bike guys to replace it. My whole life of biking, I've never had more trouble with a bike than with this one. Anyway, they put on a nice, tough back wheel on it, although I haven't had much opportunity to ride on it, because it's been raining all frickin' week. This is about the rainiest fall I've seen here in Chicagoland.

My boys love the Bond movie, "Goldfinger." They love James Bond in general. Cracks me up. B1 loves the gadgets and the spectacle, while B2 loves the bad guys and thinks Bond's tuxedo is tops -- I actually filmed him singing the "Goldfinger" theme, which was adorable. If B2 saw me in my tux, he'd love that, would want his own tuxedo! Thankfully, he doesn't know I have one!

While looking for some appropriate "Goldfinger" images, I stumbled across this, which cracks me up. Bahah!

I'm in a pretty good mood today, as I managed to come up with a proper ending to a book I'd had written years ago, but had never quite gotten the ending I liked for it. I think I've alluded to it before in here. It's a Young Adult story, I think. That's my nearest guess. Now that I have the ending I like for it, I'll edit it and see if I can get anybody to pick it up. A tough sell in this market, but I'll try to find a home for it. I'm just relieved I got the right ending for it. It's very rare for me to get stuck on a story like that, and this one was like another albatross hanging around my neck (Exene taking the original honor for that, of course, the Lifetime Albatross Achievement Award), but this story was in second place. But I think I got it. On yet another read-through, we'll see how it goes. I shouldn't feel bad -- Tolstoy wrote something like 12 drafts of "War and Peace" -- which would have me going squarely out of my mind if I'd been in that situation. This latest revision will be a cakewalk by comparison.

My folks are seriously eyeing property in Florida. I think they're looking to sell their place in Santa Barbara and settle down in Florida. I think they were missing seeing the rest of the family (since nobody else in our family is on the West Coast), and they were also realizing that they could sell their place for a fortune and buy something particularly fab elsewhere. I always thought their trek to SB was quixotic -- there's a reason why it's like the retirement community for Hollywood. I mean, yes, it's beautiful, but it's also crazy-expensive out there, and if you're not coasting through senescence on residuals, it's a daunting prospect for everybody else. We'll see how Florida goes for them. The boys won't mind that, since they love the ocean (although B1 loves mountains as much as I do -- my Dwarvish boy. He was talking about that the other day, how much he loved mountains and hills. Cuted me out).

Spittin' Mad

I'm a bit sore. The autumn winds are picking up at the lake shore, as they always do, which makes biking along that route tougher. My cruising speed with my bike is about 12 mph, and when you've got an 11-mph headwind blasting you in the face, it makes for a helluva slog.

Had some crazy asshole spit at me yesterday. He was this little goblin of a man. I was at an intersection, checking the time on my iPhone (the wind was making me mindful of my pacing for the ride, as I had a meeting to go to), and I hear *PTOOEY* at me, and turned, and the guy made this nonchalant look, hastily, like he'd just realized he'd bitten off more than he could chew. Nasty lil' guy, looked like late 40s, maybe (?), baseball cap jammed on his head, grimy, one of those paranoid schizophrenic-looking types. Anyway, when I realized what he'd done, I rode after him on my bike. He'd ducked by one of the CTA bus kiosks to dodge me, but I wheeled around and gave him a retributive spit on his back, then rode for my meeting. He spat back at me one more time as I rode off. Not a word was spoken, didn't have to be. The fucker knew what he'd done. He probably couldn't believe somebody would retaliate in kind, but that's how it goes. Spit for spat, Fucko. He's just lucky I had to go to a meeting, or I'd have really gone Celtic on him and pummeled him into the ground for that kinda shit (although, if I'd done that, bystanders would've just seen me beating the shit out of this goblin-man, wouldn't have seen the precipitating event, so I'd have likely been the one to get in trouble, had I gone that route; I was a model of restraint in that I only spat on him). Anyway, after 18 years in the city, I guess something nuts like that was bound to happen. It was a first for me, though. *PTOOEY* Spitfight with a vagabond! Can mark that off my list of life experiences.

The meeting went well, btw. I was inwardly amused by that, as I gave my presentation. Little did anyone know that I'd had that nonsense on the front end of my day.

Yeargh

So, I'm still trying to suss out what the problem is with the computer. I think it's Comcast that's the problem, since I got a new cable modem and hooked that up and it was still having problems. The old modem is still configured to the system, so it works, somewhat. Frickin' Comcast. This has been about three weeks' worth of annoyance. I haven't been able to devote as much attention to it as I'd like, because of work schedules and what-not. Yeargh.

Fall is creeping closer. Amazing how quickly the summer evaporated. The days are getting shorter, and a bit of autumn chill is creeping in. Before I know it, the boys'll be in school again. Lordy.

Work has been good, although I don't really talk to anybody so much, just do my thing. That's the thing about editorial work and writing -- you just do that. I don't complain about it; it's part of the discipline. All the same, it's very quiet.

Saturdave

Busy day yesterday -- groceries, then taking the boys to swimming, then a quick jaunt to Target. I had rented a BMW for the errands, which was fun. That thing could run! B2 loves Beemers, so he was thrilled to ride around in one. We also got rained on by one of the umpteen storms coming through.

Frickin' computer is still fucked.

Technotrauma

Argh! Telecom woes continue, cranked up a notch. For some reason, my iPhone was locked up last night -- the phone stuff worked, but the Net stuff didn't. Not sure if it was solar flares, the labor issues, bad juju, or what, but between my computer being screwy, my cable being screwy, and my phone being screwy, it was like the technotrauma trifecta. Good lord. The phone's back on track, the television's still screwy (some channels no sound, some okay -- I had called Comcast and their robots told me service calls had already been made to the area, but clearly the problems they fixed weren't the problems I was having with my television). At this point, I'm thinking of just axing Comcast and finding another provider, maybe just for Internet. Just because there aren't that many shows I watch on television, anymore, anyway. The boys would miss PBS, of course, but most of those shows are reruns, anyway, and we've got a lot of DVDs that they tend to watch more. Screw it. I'm just tired of Comcast boning things up the way they seem to do so routinely. The only reason I'm on at the moment is because I got my computer running for the moment, using every bit of tech tactics I know. Sheesh.

So, Melanie should win SYTYCD. I think she's a shoe-in. If she doesn't win, I'll be very surprised. We'll see.

Cackle

Alright, this is amusing me. My newer computer (circa September 2010) has been on the fritz lately, plagued by some frickin' malware from Hell and/or virus that causes my browser to crash. No idea what the deal is. Anyway, I have done everything I could with that computer, still can't get it fixed, yet. Meantime, it occurred to me that I have my old computer laying around, which I'd kept because I hadn't migrated files to it. On a whim, I decided to hook it back up to the Net (the thing has been mothballed for years, as Exene and I had used an iMac, which she got when we split -- I let her have the fucking thing). Anyway, I'd not gotten rid of the old computer, as it still had all of my music on it, and I'd not gotten around to migrating my iTunes from the old machine to the new one. Anyway. voila -- back online for the moment, using the old machine. I can't even remember the last time I actually logged on with this sucker.

Looks like the last time this was used online was 8/26/2009. Bahah! I wonder if I have a blog entry back then. I should. I'll go check. Damned funny.

(moment later)

Alas, no. November and December 2009 are the earliest entries with this blog. Such dark times those were, I can hardly remember all of that. Lordy. Still, it is amusing to me to unearth this relic and run it again.

But I'm pleased that, even thought the thing is slow, it's not crashing on me like the other one. Funny thing -- after getting used to the wider screens that are common on the thinner monitors, the old, boxy monitor feels almost claustrophobic to me.

Crashing

My frickin' computer is FUBAR. The computer is fine, in truth, but there is something screwing with the Net, causing those damned browser crashes. I have done a suite of things to try to fix it, but no dice. I am going to call Comcast next, just to rule
that out.

Tried to watch SYTYCD last night, but had no
sound. Melanie rocked as usual. She so should win. I am thinking Caitlynn and Ricky will go home.

So far, so good

Wow. No crash on the Chrome, yet. I've got Browser Crash Stress Disorder, I think. Hah. Another annoyance -- for some reason, a few channels on my cable are mute. The picture is fine, but there's no sound. Comcast needs to get their heads out of their asses, and/or take a break from all the money they rake in to actually look after the service they're supposedly providing.

Gruh

Still not 100% sure what's afflicting my system; I ran lots of antivirusware, but am unsure if that's what's fragging my browsers, or whether it's some Malware. Gotta beware of Malware, to be sure. Hah.

Chrome appears more amenable to non-crashitude, versus Firefox, which just melted down on me. Still sleuthing it out. I'm actually surprised this post has gotten as long as it has without crashing.

I was pleased with B1 today -- he helped out some kids who were being picked on by a bully. The bully was annoying kids by shooting them with a super-soaker, and he shot B1 with it, and B1 said he shouldn't be shooting the kids because it was upsetting them, and the kid tried to shoot B1 again, and B1 actually grabbed the gun and turned it on the kid and shot him with his own gun, which apparently made the kid swear at B1, which then got the kid in trouble with his and some of the other moms who were around. B1 said he felt bad for the little kids, getting sprayed by the kid. I know the kid who did it, and he's a creepy, nasty kinda kid, so I told B1 that he did the right thing by standing up to the kid. You can't let bullies have their way, or they'll walk all over you. But I was especially pleased by B1's empathy and compassion toward the little kids being picked on by the bully -- his sense of justice is strong, and his gentle nobility is integral to that.

Crashing

I'm not sure why, but my Firefox browser has been super-crashy the past few weeks. Very irritating. Crashtacular. I've actually taken to using Google Chrome now and again, just because it's usually less likely to crash. Usually. Something changed the past few weeks, that's for sure, because I went from zero crashes to several a day, maybe more.

Manic Monday?

I witnessed not one, but two acts of assholery today, at opposite ends of the economic spectrum:

1. Had a guy begging bus fare off me two times (I passed him going one way, and he asked me for bus fare; I told him I had nothing). Then, on my way back, I saw him again, waiting at the bus stop, and he asked me again if I had bus fare for him, wanting $2 for the bus. I again said I had nothing for him, and, as it happened, the bus was approaching, whereupon I stopped and watched the guy take out his bus card and board the bus without difficulty. Asshole.

2. While ordering a sandwich, I saw this shitbird with a Bluetooth come in (the guy had that on his ear, and a cell phone in the other hand, leather jacket, pointy cowboy boots, shades. Haggard face that called to mind Nick Nolte in his geriatric bender days). He strolls in, supposedly talking on the phone, and then uses the restroom at the shop (which has a clear sign indicating restrooms are for paying customers only). Then he gets out of the can, again with his cell phone on, mutters how he decided he's not going to get something after all, holding either his real and/or pretend phone conversation on his phone, and when the store owner said "Sir? Sir?!" the guy does the universal "On the phone right now, can't talk" finger in the air sign, then walks out the door without a backward glance. He then crosses the street and hops into his Mercedes coupe, drives off. The owner of the store, an Indian guy, and I, exchanged looks and commented on the assholery of the guy. Asshole.

Must be the close proximity to the supermoon or something, bringing out the assholery in spades today.

Gruh.

Guh. Yesterday was annoying. Just some logistical stuff I have to deal with. One of the utilities is being obstinate and unhelpful, so I have to try to sort that out Monday (since their offices are closed on the weekend, naturally).

Had a sweet moment last night, when doing the kid transfer -- B2 said "Wait a second." and ran back to me and gave me a huge hug. I loved that. B1 followed suit. It touched me, because when I'd heard him say "Wait a second...." I had thought there was some toy or something that he'd forgotten, but he'd just wanted a goodbye hug. So sweet.

One of the bad effects of this momentary warming trend in the weather is the building's ample heat is momentarily off, so the place is chilly. I've been living in flannel the past couple of days. This usually happens in March -- what I call March Madness -- like as it gets less cold outside, landlords tend to dial back on the heat, even though it's still frickin' freezing. Anyway, I'm almost grateful for a return to normal cold, as it'll mean the heat comes back on properly.

I've been working on lots of queries. Trying to craft queries around three novels at the moment. I really loathe query-writing. I don't like it anymore than I like writing cover letters. It's a vital, necessary adjunct to professional writing, but it's still irksome. So, today I'll sling a bunch of those out. I'm opting for snail mail, just because I think it might have more resonance, oddly enough, to get a physical object, versus an e-submission. Even if it means including the dreaded SASE, my least-favorite thing.

Phased

Kirk showing you what a phaser's for, Fuckers!

Not to belabor Trek-related points, but one other telling sign of "The Next Generation's" limp-dicked 90s ethos was the redesign of phasers. Whereas the original 60s phasers were either the little boxes of Phaser I variety, or the more butch Phaser II variety (which incorporated Phaser I in the top, the black part)...

Phaser II means fucking business.

...the TNG phasers looked like fucking Dustbusters...

TNG Phaser: "Shine your boots, Guvner?"

The original phasers looked like they'd fuck you up in a retro futuristic fashion; the TNG phasers looked fit only to pick up lint. You know I'm right.

The first time I saw them dishing those things out, I thought "Oh, nooooo."

Boy

One pet peeve of mine is women who refer to men as "boys." I hate when they do that. Like "I saw this boy the other day" or "I'm going out with a boy tonight." or "Are there any cute boys there?" My experience of women who call men boys is that they don't like men very much, and appear to have a problem with them (and with themselves). They'll deny it, of course, but in their daily lives, I think it's borne out.

I've seen it enough times to wonder if there's a correlation, even if this is utterly unscientific. The women I've seen use that term aren't able to form stable, lasting, healthy relationships, are perennially unhappy, are neurotic as hell, and are generally threatened by men -- it comes out in things they say and do. I think there's a perhaps half-conscious put-down inherent in calling men "boys," or seeing them as boys -- or, maybe there's a level of immaturity in these women themselves that makes them feel threatened by the term "man" and prefer the pert "boy" term, instead. A kind of projection of their own immaturity onto guys.

Grown women can be girly -- that's nice, sure. But grown women aren't girls; they're WOMEN. And, by the same turn, grown men aren't boys. Sure, a man can be boyish, and a man can be childish (just as a woman can be childish, too) -- I've known old people who are immature, crazily enough.

But give "boy" a rest, why don't you? Seriously, the ones I've seen use that term are emotional basket cases. It's just odd to me, because I've seen it used by a whole generation of women (or are they girls?) It's endemic in the generations after mine. Somewhere down the line, "man" was blackballed in the culture, and there's a generation of guys out there who feel compelled to apologize for being men -- maybe those are the "boys" those "girls" are wanting.

To me, it's just so off-putting. I immediately think badly of a woman who uses that term for guys. It's instinctive, but it's there, all the same. I respect a woman who is confident enough in herself to want a man, and not a boy, and who can see a man as a man, and appreciate him as one.

It's one thing for women to call themselves girls, or men to call themselves boys; they're allowed to. But when it crosses the aisle, it rankles. It just feels off for a guy to say "Are there any nice girls there?" It's an affectation, it's insulting, it's lame.

So, guys, if a woman sees you as a "boy," look out. That one's trouble, and it's not going to go well for you.

Deception

Am I like the only person in the country who didn't like the movie, "Inception?" I thought it was boring. I won't got into a full-blown review of it again, but c'mon -- the drama wasn't dramatic, the action scenes were boring, the dream sequences weren't nearly "dreamy" enough, and the big ending to it had me thinking "Who cares?" Seriously, it's like an action movie for people who don't like action movies, a drama for people who don't understand drama, science fiction for people who don't read science fiction, a caper movie for people who don't watch caper movies, blah blah blah. The most interesting facet of the movie was largely downplayed (the character of Leo DiCaprio's wife, who is basically a ghost in his dreams, thanks to his monkeying around with her mind using his dream-weaver powers). Instead of making that the core of the story, they spackled on about four layers of "Who Gives a Fuck" around it. "The Matrix" handled action sequences and even layered perceptions of reality far better than "Inception." But people mistook a complicated plot with a complex one, and they're not entirely the same. Anyway, it did well, and people seem to like it -- like everybody I know who's seen it, but I just didn't like it.

I like action movies, but they should have compelling action. I like dramas, but they should have compelling drama. I like science fiction, but it should have the depth of the genre behind it. Caper movies should propel you through them. "Inception" dips its toes lightly in those three pools, and we're supposed to find it immersive. I remember being bored very early in the movie -- and those fucking dream sequences, interminable things (nobody but nobody has dreams as lame as the dreams in "Inception" -- and if you do dream like that, you have my sympathy).

Anyway, I don't know how it managed to strike a resonant chord with so many people, and leave me just bored. I'm out of step with the world, clearly.

Postal

Is the US Postal Service (USPS) getting less reliable or what? Or does Chicago just have exceptionally bad service? I mean, I've known that Chicago's had a crappy system, but lately, it seems to be getting crappier, especially in terms of lost bills and so forth. It's getting ridiculous, is making me think I need to just have everything be paid online. I just hate that I can't rely on something that should, in theory, be both straightforward and reliable. WTF? It's just incredibly frustrating, because I'm doing my part, getting things mailed out in time, but they're not getting to their destinations, and then I'm the one left holding the bag, despite it being the USPS that boned things up.

Hey, There...

My Net was down since Wednesday -- somebody cut my cable line. Not actually physically sheared (like before), but just flat-out removed it. I think an overzealous and/or inattentive cable guy did it. Anyway, after several days of wrangling on the phone with them, I got them here this morning to get things up and running again.

Made good use of my "down time" -- got over 15,000 words written on the book I'm working on. Without television or Internet to distract me, I was good to go. If it weren't for having a job and minding the boys some of those days, I'd have gotten even more written.

It's surprisingly warm this weekend--looks like one last blast of warmth before the inevitable autumn chill creeps in. Right now, though, it's all very sunny and mild. Very lovely.


I'm thinking of making chicken pot pie this weekend. I have a taste for it! I'll try to get the boys to have some, although we'll see. They can be oddly picky sometimes, kid-style. The other thing I'm craving is fish-n-chips and some Newcastle Brown Ale -- must be a seasonal thing, but I'm jonesing for it. There are a number of good places for fish-n-chips in the city. My favorite is the Duke of Perth. I haven't been there for years, but that was a staple for me in the 90s -- I'd call it "going Perthing" -- they have the best Scotch bar around, a fiendish wall o' Scotch, and their hard cider and fish-n-chips are da bomb! It's been so long since I've been there! But I'm fiending for some fish-n-chips, so I'll have to make a trip there. Maybe next Friday (since they do all-you-can eat f-n-c then, although anymore, one plate is about all I can handle). I remember one time a server dropped a Shepherd's Pie on the ground -- it landed with a crunch of crockery and a plop, and everybody in the bar just stopped and looked at it. Shepherd's Pie manages to warp space and time, I think -- like the amount of stuff they cram into those little crocks is staggering. Certainly, seeing it upended like that made me realize it.

No fancy plans for the moment. Just do some writing and some biking, catch up on the world -- I feel like I've been in a news blackout the past few days, at least when I'm home.

Kalamazoo River Oil Spill

Nice going, Michigan. Michiganders. Pffff. Just what we need, an oil slick on Lake Michigan. Were they envious at all the attention the Gulf was getting or something? Lordy. This article doesn't cover it, but the Kalamazoo River flows swiftly, and feeds into Lake Michigan, which is about 80 miles away from the site of the disaster.

It reminds me of a pizzeria job I worked around 1992, where this total clod was working in the back, and he was just worthless, a total drag on our crew -- he'd sing "Rumpshaker" all day and would dance around and was gloating about how he was joining the Air Force. And another coworker and I were commenting on it to each other, and I said "Someday, we're going to read about planes falling out of the sky, and it's because HE'S gonna be the one doing the rivets on the jets." Then we mimed hip-hop dancing to "Rumpshaker" and working a riveting gun haphazardly. "Shake baby shake baby one, two, three..."

Phairness Doctrine

I'm thrilled to see the backlash against Liz Phair of late -- that's been due for, what, 17 years? I've long, long been one of the Liz Phair dislikers -- I thought she was a cynical opportunist, an artistic fraud right out of the box. I liked "Stratford-On-Guy" (somewhat), but thought her masterpiece, "Exile in Guyville" -- her seminal, iconic, fuck-me feminist play-by-play that owed its very existence to the Rolling Stones' "Exile on Main Street" the way that "Ulysses" owed its existence to "The Odyssey" and "Ahab's Wife" (and "Lo's Diary") owe their existences to "Moby-Dick" and "Lolita" -- I thought it was decidedly mediocre. It was only because Liz Phair was who she was that it gained any legs at all.

Meta. Meta. Meta to the bone. That alone bugs the bejeezus out of me. The novelty of a young woman singing dirty songs and swearing and ginning up her posh Winnetka life with tales of the mean streets of Wicker Park (haha -- I think she spent a few months dicking around in Wicker Park in its heady early 90s days when there was a scene of sorts there, but she came from the rarefied air of Winnetka, not the whitebread gritty fauxhemia of Wicker Park) -- it was intoxicating to a generation of hipsters and scenesters and indie rock dickheads and [prefix of choice]-feminists.

And the thing is, as a con goes, Phair triumphed -- by and large, these folks swallowed the swindle (a few notable standouts were Steve Albini, who was onto it from the start, and wrote about it, famously referring to Phair and Urge Overkill and Smashing Pumpkins as "the three pandering sluts"). It was the Great Train Robbery, and Phair was Ronnie Biggs.

Liz Phair, Pheminist.

Anyway, I think Phair was conning people at the outset, which was why her subsequent efforts were so artistically bankrupt even as she did things like marrying her producer and tapping Pop music svengalis to try to spin off some more hits for her. But each effort brought ever-diminishing returns -- without the meta-album conceit to fall back on and frame her work for her, Phair's already-meager talents were worn threadbare, until the half-clad Indie Empress was finding herself without a stitch -- which wasn't something she was particular averse to, since it was part of her shtick, anyway. Like Sheryl Crow's sluttier younger sister, basically (and no doubt Crow offered Phair a kind of roadmap for that bland commercial empty success Phair was surely striving for).

Still, St. Liz was unassailable for such a long time (what I'd call the "Phairness Doctrine" -- basically, anything Phair did was apologized for and explained away), by the same acolytes and music journalists that had swilled the pop cultural Kool-Aid to begin with -- having already checked their aesthetics at the door in 1993, they had already invested their egos in her, and were reluctant to cop to the fraud without admitting that they were as full of shit as Phair was, or that they had been fooled.

Until now, apparently. In her latest musical debacle, "Funstyle," her acolytes are scratching their heads and wondering what the hell Phair is up to. Rapping on one of the tunes, lamenting the crass commercialism of the music industry (only lamenting it because her efforts to cash in had ultimately failed) and so on. Even Indie Rock Dickheads without peer like Pitchfork are what-the-fucking this latest release (as you can see here).


The challenge her fans and apologists face is accepting that they were duped at the outset (and Phair certainly deserves credit for tapping a perfect zeitgeist moment with "Exile in Guyville" -- she certainly was in the right place at the right time with that effort, pulling a Jedi Mind Trick on so many people). So, I'm enjoying watching and hearing people come to terms with this new album in various ways -- mostly centered around either denial (like "What was she thinking?") or a kind of qualified acceptance (like "Well, it's not SO terrible.") to angry rejection (like "She's insane. This is SHIT!") Charlatans, one and all, facing (or about-facing) an epiphany.

My beefs with Phair were manifold -- false Indie Rock/Alternative; the meta-album template leading to her singular triumph; the lack of much to sing about or musical talent on her part; the shameless, calculated chasing after commercialism (while at the same time carrying her Indier Than Thou creds in her back pocket, like a hairbrush); the notion of Phair as some kind of ur-feminist icon "voice of a generation" (without actually carving out much in the way of new ground, beyond "fuck-me feminism" -- which isn't much of a feminism at all) -- all of these bugged me (and worse, how critiques of Phair were often derided for being anti-feminist, when really it was anti-bullshit -- I mean, The Strokes were as annoying to me as Phair was, when they had their day in the sun).


Anyway, it's cool to see this latest effort flame out so mightily, as it might finally bury Phair once and for all! Life's not Phair! Woo hoo! It's over. She's over. It took 17 years, but stick a fork in her: she's done.