Only in Pixburgh

Or Johnstown. Whichever, jagoffs.

Pixburgh rox!

One by Donora, one of Pittsburgh's best local bands--who ought to be known nationally and beyond, they are just that good!

Word to your crooner: Belated respect

Scott McKenzie passed away on August 18, 2012, so I'm a wee bit behind with this shout-out.

While I no longer feel the need to live in the Bay Area as I once did way back when--too poseur-ish, too passive-aggressive, and too bloody expensive--this one calms me down and comforts me on a lazy Saturday in the poor man's San Fran (aka Pittsburgh).

Mellow yellow? Quite rightly.

Solidarity

Meet Bittereinder (Bitter-enders).

What is it with me and the South African hip-hop? Seriously, I follow a little too closely for my own sanity Afrikaner alterna-bands on Radio 5FM (SABC) and UCT Radio 104.5fm from the University of Cape Town.

I mean, it's not like I'm going to South Africa anytime soon (still tapped out from Europe, don'tcha know), and my progress in learning a few key phrases in Afrikaans is slower and lower than my muddling, middling French. And the men, which normally might be a tangential draw, really don't do it for me. Too many braais, too much blond hair out of a bottle, as far as I can tell.

(Special note to all interested parties: I would make an exception for Stefan Ludik. Who is from Namibia and thus probably of German, rather than Afrikaner, ancestry. So there.)

Perhaps it's childhood nostalgia calling (Radio RSA, the Voice of South Africa, and all that--Ver in die wêreld, Kittie? Indeed). Or maybe the exotic other, which I am always entranced by, like a mosquito to a bug zapper on a hot summer night. In Mozambique.

There's a bit of the underdog about it all--whither Afrikaans and Afrikaner culture in a post-Apartheid era, where everyone has to fend for themselves without so much state support and brutal enforcement? Is it that weird, racist, Southern "lost cause" mentality at play? Or do I simply enjoy being different and immersing myself in some world other than my own?

But yes, alas, it's got a good beat and is easy to dance to, oh so often my motivating force. Get up and boogie. Don't stop the dance. Slave to the rhythm am I.

Describe Mitt Romney in One Word #1

Mitt Romney in Iowa, May 2007

"DubyaDubyaThree"

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This image, which was originally posted to Flickr.com, was uploaded to Wikimedia Commons using Flickr upload bot on 07:21, 9 January 2008 (UTC) by Ferrylodge. On that date it was licensed under the license CC-BY-SA 2.0 Generic. The author is listed on Wikipedia as IowaPolitics.com. The original image can be found here.

Halloween comes early

And actually it came really early when Die Antwoord released "I Fink U Freeky" earlier this year in the U.S.

Anyone who knows me knows this is so not my style, visually at least. Ever since I scared myself badly as a child reading a horror comic book on a stormy night--something about ewe in a wood in a hood, perhaps, or a massive number of dead bodies floating down a river in a 1970s-era Third World country, I avoid horror, even suspense, of almost all varieties.

A case in point: The last scary movie I remember seeing was The Others with Nicole Kidman, and let's face it ("face" it, get it?), other than her Botox dependency, she's not that scary.

But the video for "I Fink U Freeky" is so catchily, craftily creepy, I can't help but being mesmerized by it. The unrelenting grime; the alien, distorted bodies and faces; the wrinkled brows; the twitching cheeks; the scuzzy, raw lust; Yolandi's State Hospital haircut; Ninja dancing in his (dirty) underwear. Ick and eek and bravo. It's all incredibly, gruesomely well done.

Plus it's got a good beat and is easy to dance to. Sort of like a throwback to 2Unlimited techno--although Blue Pearl's "Can You Feel the Passion?" might be a fairer sonic comparison.

Clearly, Die Antwoord isn't your grandmother's Qkumba Zoo. But if you're like me and really like your grandparents, you might do better with the David Letterman Show-approved version

of "I Fink U Freeky." But just maybe.

Tot siens, fokkers!

Big pumpin'

Where is Michael Phelps' mother when you need her as a footwear model?

As my friend Cali would say, "Whiskey-Tango-Foxtrot."

Yes, friends, it's a stiletto-styled tape dispenser, in red, black, and zebra print, snapped at Office Max near Pittsburgh Mills.

Who says we don't need unions in this country? I think any good collectivist organization worth its muscle and members' dues would strike against this faster than you can say "hostile workplace."