Call me Betty

"What's your favorite song" is a question that has haunted me most of my life. Seriously. Choosing one to love and honor above all others was just something I couldn't do. But recently, on several long walks to work, I've figured out what I think the BEST song is, factually speaking.

"You Can Call Me Al." No, I'm not kidding. I realized while doing all I could not to participate in the whistling interlude that this is the peppiest damn song that ever lived, and it manages not to be obnoxiously happy.

"He doesn't speak the language, he holds no currency, he is a foreign man, he is surrounded by the sound. The sound. Cattle in the marketplace, scatterlings and orphanages," These lyrics are no "Barbie Girl" (possibly the other most peppy song alive, and one that makes me want to incite violence). The lines magically flow into one another like a poetic collection of really vivid scenes. For example, "Angels in the architectures spinning in infinity" reminds me of that building in Salamanca, Spain with all the gothic relief work that some witty restoration artist added an astronaut to in the mid nineties. And the song was written well before that happened, though I guess the "angels" were still spinning in infinity. It also has a bit of angst which I may or may not be projecting, but when I want to hear it in a sad way I just focus on the verse about a man in the midst of some kind of crisis who, spurning his wife and family, ducks back down an alleyway with a roly poly little bat-faced girl. I'm not quite sure what roly poly and bat-faced actually mean, but it feels plenty sad when I need it to.

The tune also has a healthy dose of nostalgia for most of my cohort because it was on heavy enough rotation in our childhood homes, you'd think payola was involved. I've seen so many copies of that vinyl, each worn down like the back pockets on your best pair of jeans, with Garfunkel's orange 'fro hovering in between taupe and sienna instead [ed. note: I realize this song was on Graceland, not an S&G record. What am I thinking of, Bridge Over Troubled Water? Eesh. I hope not). And I've danced in friend's livingrooms to it when we got to that year in college when we first really started appreciating our parents' taste in music. And I've brought it on uncountable roadtrips. And I walk to work with it, and let it put an obvious bounce in my step. And I whistle, outloud. And I feel like I'm privy to some kind of inside joke when the backwards bassline blurs past and I know that's exactly what it is.

It's not my favorite because I'm just not capable of that kind of commitment. But it's definitely the best.

Seriously?

There are certain things we stop congratulating ourselves for in adulthood: reading a chapter book, distinguishing between print and cursive, and using the potty to name a few. So why is it that this crop of children's (OK, I'll give you "young adult") books have come out, taken the adult world by storm and all of a sudden everyone's proud of themselves for reading.

Harry Potter. I'm sure it is "way different from those other fantasy novels," but since when is anything written in 20-point font acceptable reading matter for grownups? It's not. There are plenty of folks who just want to be a part of whatever's big at the time, but then do we need to boast about it? "I read a book [written for eight-year-olds] IN TWO WEEKS FLAT!" Seriously? Get a life.

And now Twilight. If my practically un-researched assumptions are correct, this one's about an underclassmen living out her "bad boy" fantasies with one who happens to be a vampire. I'm pretty sure high school protagonists are best suited for middle school readers. Remember Sweet Valley High and The Babysitter's Club? Even the Babysitters Little Sister Series was tailored to like 7 year olds. Why? Because you can't sell the rest of us on how awesome high school is. We've been there. And we know that the bad boy plays out more like a depressing after-school special involving an "apartment" above your parents' garage and making weed butter to melt over ramen noodles.

Maybe it's because so many of us stop reading when the requisite summer book lists stop coming from English teachers, but we never let go of the "reading level" we're handed in grade school. Oh wait, that can't be it. You read Shakespeare and Richard Wright and the Odyssey in highschool. So... I can't think of a single reason for this crap. Let's be done with it.

Why am I actually mad? Because blithering idiots become millionaires on the sales of a single book (that sucks). You know who you are, people. Stop buying into the hype and make me some ramen.

In the Clouds

Magazines are biting it and blogs are taking over the world, right? Well now a team of publishing devotees wants to bring to books what blogs brought to the web. User-managed, small press magazines, for us by us (and I'm not talking about that heedious ghetto gear, FUBU). Now anyone with a computer can have a magazine and MagCloud will print, bind, ship to "subscribers," and send you the money (that you've deemed your mag will cost). The best part? At just under $.20 a page, it's actually accessible. I really hope this company takes off and we start seeing well-made mags for social groups, protests, community newsletters and anyone else wanting a voice.

Sure there's the whole tree-killing aspect of physical publishing, but what other harm is there? These self-made mags won't need to subsist on advertising dollars so it's safe to assume they'll be devoid of content that favors big spenders. (How many D&G spreads do we really need to see in every magazine, right?).

Do you think this is good for publishing or bad? Do you think it's blogging for the "real" journalists who won't let print die, or is it just another way to get words out?

Either way, I'm a fan. Look forward to "3 Pages on Why Laura Rules Magazine" any day now. I'll sell it to you at cost for 60 cents.

What's your sign?

I'm a gemini, which means I'm fickle and always want to be (and have) the best. So sue me. Or, shoe me with a pair of the Dolce Vita Aries Flat Sandals. I know I've been anti the open-toed boot look, because it's kind of silly. But this pair is way more sandally and spring-friendly; something about the casual slouch and luxe suede seems so...perfect.

Picture them with leggings and a denim mini, or no leggings and a light, bright summer dress. They come in a few colors so if you're boring and stick to basics (like me) you'll love the black pair which was the start of all this lusting. And the reason for this. If you're a bold leo, reach for the "turchese," (pictured) and sad sags can brace yourselves with the beige option. Need a little more glitz? I don't know which star sign I'd condone this for, but there's a metallic silver pair, too.

The $125 price tag isn't insane, but you can bet I've been looking for these pretties to pop up at DSW.

What's your verdict: to boot, or not to boot?

Simpsons Chic

I know there are a bajilliondy fashion blogs out there, and I don't want to bore you. But holy handbags, this spread from Harper's Bazaar in 2007 is unbelievable. They place the Simpsons in high fashion to show the looks of the time.

Homer as Karl Lagerfeld? Marge in Chanel Haute Couture?

There's really nothing else I can say about this. Please look at the whole spread on notcouture.com, my all-time fave site of all time.

This is OK news.

For some reason, hearing that the unthinkable is now reality is comforting. What I mean is, in this blog, called "Newspapers and Thinking the Unthinkable," the author explains that journalism as we know it is over. It's ok, though, because whatever will come next to replace our current news world will work for us. We'll be OK.

He compares us to 1500 when the printing press was first coming into use. Not 1400 pre-press or 1600 after. We're in the middle of a crazy revolution and we don't know what the other end will look like. The nut of the story, buried all the way down at the bottom, says:

When we shift our attention from ’save newspapers’ to ’save society’, the imperative changes from ‘preserve the current institutions’ to ‘do whatever works.’ And what works today isn’t the same as what used to work.

It's long for a blog, but really, really worth the read. It basically tells all us writer folks to get our tails from between our legs and keep thinking. Any one of us could be imagining the next, necessary thing.

Speaking of necessary things, I got this link from Julian, on facebook. Ahh the future.

King Me.

[Ed. note: this show was canceled after like 2 episodes because it was totally boring and stupid. I take back everything I said here.]
In the pilot episode (aired Sunday, March 8th) NBC's Kings managed to check off nearly every item on my list of deal-breaking clichés.

1. What's that? Someone's GAY?!
2. Here's my delicious, blue-eyed daughter. Please discuss business with her. WHAT, YOU'RE FALLING IN LOVE?
3. Hi, we're kings and queens in a fictional land. Based on the bible.
4. Bombs! Blood! Camo pants!

So here's the weird thing, I really liked the show. Nearly all two hours of it. The only thing I didn't get was the royal priest who talked like he was from Baz Luhrmann's Romeo + Juliet. I guess royalty and medieval locution are a sensible mash-up, but the rest of the cast seems to be be in modern times. The king holds court in a boardroom overlooking a quasi central park, with a wall of windows and a boomerang-shaped (not round) table, full of congressman-like cohorts, and no men in tights.

His queen loses a cell phone, his princess is involved in health care reform and the prince? The king-to-be? Not so fast on that one. He's gaaayyyy. The family uses their royal sway to force the media to publish stories about the "play boy prince" to up his straightness cred so he has a shot at the kingdom. That is, until King David comes along. (Obv that's not who he is yet, or else the show would already be over.) I think the king's personal reporter is my favorite detail of the story. He tags along with the king and rewrites history per his request. It's funny and not overblown.

I'd summarize the show like this: a down-home boy does the right thing and saves our prince in war, only to later find out who he is. He gets a shitload of press and, subsequently, a role as royal defense secretary, more or less. Then, after watching his brother die in battle (via webcam) he turns anti-war and tries to end the whole thing which will severely screw over the king's ties to an arms dealer, and the whole country's economy (sound familiar?). THEN he's caught canoodling princess prettyface (not her actual name, but it should be) which clearly pisses off the big man.

I guess what I'm getting at is, clichés are such for a reason. They are tried and true formulas that work and, when handled correctly, can work really effing well. This show is a mishmash of tons of things I hate to see on TV, but I'm already looking forward to the next epi. My advice? Start watching now so we don't have a Lost calibur dash to the DVD set before season two comes out.

Added Brooklyn Bonus:
Some castle scenes are filmed at the Brooklyn Museum. Yay!