You may or may not have heard about TMX Elmo, which is the 10th Tickle Me Elmo (hence the X), and which may or may not also be "Xtreme." Toy manufacturers have informed us that it will be this Christmas season's sensation, and as dutiful consumers, we as Americans will rush to the stores and buy it. And you may think to yourself, another Tickle Me Elmo? Didn't we already have that fad?

But maybe you haven't seen this thing in action yet...



I mean, seriously... wow. I thought Elmo in Muppet form was enthusiastic, especially in comparison with his Sesame Street pals like Oscar the Grouch, or the morose Telly. (The inestimable Cookie Monster, of course, possesses a manic insanity all his own.) But this doll is an onslaught of noise and disjointed robotics, not so much ticklish as epileptic. It's easy to see why little kids will love it (for a week or so), and why dogs will be terrified of it (forever).

It's hard to imagine that this sort of thing would exist at all if Jim Henson was still alive (happy belated 70th, by the way, Jim), for reasons I'll go into at a later time, but here we are.

Boards of Canada - Trans Canada Highway

This may shock you, but there has been a new Boards of Canada release on the market since May, and I only bought it last week!

Now, keep in mind that the delay was due to the fact that the release in question is an EP, titled Trans Canada Highway, in the great tradition of highway-themed concept albums such as Kraftwerk's Autobahn, and, um... Kraftwerk's Trans-Europe Express. Ok, maybe not.

At any rate, Boards of Canada have proven in the past that they're perfectly capable of releasing EPs just as good as LPs, as shown by Twoism, Hi-Scores, and especially the sublime In a Beautiful Place out in the Country, so this release is not at all to be feared as a refuse bin for b-sides (or, at least, the b-side equivalent of a band that sees no point in releasing singles).

If you've been a reader of this site long enough, you know by now that there's no point in even questioning whether or not I will like a Boards of Canada release, and Trans Canada Highway is no exception. It begins with "Dayvan Cowboy" from 2005's The Campfire Headphase, which is getting a second or third round of appreciation from me right about now. It also ends with a "Dayvan Cowboy" remix by Odd Nosdam, and even the remix is good, taking an already fantastic song and turning it on its head to provide 9 minutes of eerie, suspenseful beauty.

The middle section is what we might call B.O.C.-by-numbers (but, you know, not the other B.O.C.). At this point, if you've heard Boards of Canada, you can guess what these tracks will sound like. If you haven't, good Lord! What are you waiting for?! "Left Side Drive" is a Geogaddi-style number, with glacially shifting patterns (and if you're struggling for a description, let's say one of Brian Eno's ambient pieces with a slowed down hip-hop drum loop). "Skyliner" goes back further, to the Music Has the Right to Children days, with its busy drum beats and wavery synths. The other two tracks are short vignettes, which, true to form, are just as worth hearing as the rest of it, even if they may not be substantial enought to warrant description here.

The only thing here that's really worth noting is that the guitars of The Campfire Headphase seem to have been a temporary phase, as they're nowhere to be found other than the title track. Whether this is a sign of the band's future or a brief look into its past is anybody's guess. Either way, I'll be waiting for LP #4.

An uneducated movie review...

I just did something quite unlikely. I watched a chick flick. By myself. By choice.

The film in question is In Her Shoes, and I'll admit that I watched it as much because I knew it was filmed in Philadelphia as because I'd read a couple reviews of it awhile ago that said that it was baiscally "a chick flick, but not a chick flick."

It was one of those things where I ended up liking it despite a number of reasons I shouldn't. First of all was the on-the-nose symbolism with shoes. Sisters with nothing in common have to walk a mile in each other's shoes, and so do grandparents who argue with their son in laws, and husbands and wives, and blah blah blah. Every time director Curtis Hanson (8 Mile, L.A. Confidential) cut to a close up of a person's feet, I got that much more infuriated. And speaking of cheap symbolism, is it possible not to notice Cameron Diaz' character wearing less and less makeup as her entitled slutty bitch character "matures" and "learns life lessons" and whatnot? Or how about the way Toni Colette's stuck up career woman consistently loses weight in accordance with throwing off her careerist shackles and "learning to love life" and such? (Colette, by the way, looks just fine even when 25 pounds heavier than normal.) Oh, and here's a scene nobody saw coming: when Diaz gets a job at a retirement community and befriends a blind patient by reading to him, who could possibly have foreseen the morning when she comes into his room and finds... *gasp* he's not there! His stuff has been packed up! "Was he moved?" she asks, as if there's going to be some sort of surprise when we find out that he's died.

And yet...

Shirley MacLaine is still adorable. She's a little more wrinkly and less irresistably cute at the age of 72 than she was in, say, The Apartment, back in 1960, but honestly? I'd still hit that. Toni Colette is cute too, in what magazine writers would probably call an "unconventional" way. Both, of course, are great performers. I found myself considering turning the movie off halfway through, but honestly wanted to know what happened to the characters, which I suppose is a testament to Jennifer Weiner's book, which I've never read. Not to spoil anything, but the quarreling sisters kiss and make up, the couple that everybody knows is going to get married gets married, and the grandmother and estranged son in law make up too. Hooray! What a great, mushy, feel-good ending!

I've already mentioned the couple reviews I read that described In Her Shoes as a chick flick, but not really, but how is a movie that ends with a wedding in which every single main and secondary character is present not a chick flick?

In the end, though, I'd rather expect a chick flick and sort of get one with In Her Shoes than expect a comedy and get a chick flick, like, say, Wedding Crashers.

Of course, I forgot to mention what might have been the most fun part: picking out the Philadelphia landmarks! Colette goes to the Italian Market in South Philly, and she also goes to a Sixers game and then talks with her boyfriend about how the Sixers have no three point shooter at Pat's Steaks after the game. (Real Philadelphians, of course, know that most corner pizzerias make a cheesesteak just as good as Pat's, Geno's, or Tony Luke's, and that the Sixers have a three point shooter, they just have no defense.) And Toni Colette actually takes a run up "the Rocky steps," or as non-tourists know it, the Art Museum. I've seen a few film crews at the Art Museum, but I'm pretty sure that this wasn't one of them. Oh well.

Thoughts and crap about 9/11... on 9/11

Every year on this day for the past four years or so, I've tried to do some remembering, some reflecting, some figuring out what the hell everything means. I've never really recorded any of that anywhere, though, until now, I suppose.

Five years is an interesting anniversary (and if you don't know what I'm referring to, I have no idea what planet you live on) because it's far enough away to allow us to reflect somewhat less emotionally than we may have before, but it's still close enough that everything still seems so vivid in our minds. We all predicted that day back in 2001 that we would always remember exactly where we were when we found out. I still remember, clear as day. I was in English class in my senior year of high school. The principal made an announcement over the PA system to let us know what was going on, and my teacher immediately pointed out a grammatical error that he made, which was some remarkable composure since his son worked in the Pentagon at the time.

So what's it all mean? I'm not one to say, and there are a million other talking heads who think they are, so I'm not going to offer a grand analysis of what 9/11 means in the long term. What strikes me the most when I think back, though, is how quickly our collective grief and shock turned into national pride, the kind of which I'd never felt before. I never felt so earnestly proud to be American, and I never have since then, and probably never will again.

What makes me angry now is that patriotism and national pride have become political statements, and I don't know what's worse: that there are politicians on the right who drape themselves in the American flag to keep people from questioning the horrible things that they support (hello, Patriot Act), or that there are many people on the left (myself included, often times) who have a knee jerk reaction against the very word "patriotism," who think that being proud to be American is somehow a conservative ideal.

Aside from that, I think I'm bothered a bit by how otherwise "normal" everything seems, which just doesn't seem right somehow. All the remembering and newspaper articles and TV specials feel a little forced, but at the same time, I think I would be unhappy if it became just another day. It's going to be weird when our kids see 9/11 that way, in the same way that we see December 7, 1941.

I don't know, I started writing this with a lot of thoughts, and they've kind of dwindled down to nothing. Time to step down from my soapbox and let life go on.

The Status of Things

I have moved into a new apartment. It is located at 43rd St and Baltimore Ave, which is a very nice location, with a park, a cafe, and numerous restaurants located nearby. I like it very much. Unfortunately, I'm not getting internet access there until the 19th, which means that I'll be checking email and such sporadically at various libraries, public (40th and Walnut) and Drexel (33rd and Market).

So anyway, here are some random thoughts that I'm having about things:

- Steve Irwin - I think the biggest surprise is that he didn't get killed sooner. I mean, by all accounts he should have died 20 times by now, right? That said, I'm trying not to laugh at the situation, and I am genuinely a little bit disappointed. Steve was one of those guys that brought a genuine and earnest enthusiasm to everything he did. He just wanted to share his joy with the world, and there's nothing bad that you can say about that.

- Yo La Tengo - Here's the album title of the century: I am Not Afraid of You and I Will Beat Your Ass. I managed to download it before I moved out of my old place and lost the internet, but all the songs get cut off with a minute left to go for some reason. Am I actually going to have to buy it?! It sounds pretty good from what I heard.

- The Valerie Project - I'll admit it: I am completely in love with crazy neo-hippies who make weird psychedelic folk music. And I've talked numerous times about how much I love Greg Weeks and Espers (just use the search bar at the top of the page). So how could I not love this?

- Gary Higgins - Speaking of hippies and folk music, Gary freaking Higgins (!) is playing at the First Unitarian Church. Of course, I'm sooooo cool that I saw him last fall. Espers opened up, believe it or not. I might go see him again, though, because who knows how long it will be before he kicks it? We've lost fellow psychedelic hermits Arthur Lee and Syd Barrett in the past few months, and that stuff comes in threes, right?

- Cell phones - My cell phone bill for this month is probably going to be gargantuan. Not having the internet has led to a lot of text messages and phone calls that would probably otherwise not have happened. On the other hand, I've actually had an honest-to-goodness phone conversation with at least one person that I've never actually talked to in a non-internet setting. So that was nice.

Ok, I'm done. More if and when I get an opportunity.

Is this the worst idea ever?

Elton John plans hip-hop album.

Usually when an aging white pop musician wants to change things up by switching genres, they jump over to classical music (see: Billy Joel, Paul McCartney). I guess we can give ol' Reggie credit for at least thinking outside the box to some degree, but it's hard to foresee this theoretical album being anything but a complete disaster.

You know how the last couple Santana albums have featured a thousand guest performers, who all do their own thing while Carlos plays his same three guitar licks on top of whatever is going on? Think about a hip hop version of that, except instead of guitar licks, think of Elton John cramming his ornate melodies into Dr. Dre's G-funk.

Weird, right?

The Mental Illness Manifesto: A Rambling, Sleepless Rant

If you're prone to either paying attention to frivolous news from Hollywood or enjoying the schadenfreude from a famous person's downfall, or both, you may have heard that Tom Cruise's production company was dumped by Paramount Pictures. (For a nice change of pace, I'm linking to a CBC article. Canadians probably have to see American-made news all the time, so we'll switch it around.)

Now, all of you here, and most people who write about entertainment news and that sort of crap for a living, are probably thinking to yourselves, "Well, duh. Didn't you see him jump on the couch?"

I'm going to say again that I have no idea why jumping on a damn couch is such a huge freaking deal. If I had Tom Cruise's kind of money and fame level, I'd do whatever I damn well wanted to do, and if that included being exuberant on nationally syndicated talk shows, then I see no reason for that to stop me. And you can tell me that the couch was a symbol of all of his excesses, and blah blah blah, and I'll ask: what excesses? What has he done from a behavioral standpoint that's so bad?

So keeping in mind that Cruise's antics over the last year, which people mindlessly classify as "bizarre" or "hysterical," aren't really that important, I'm going to posit that maybe, just maybe, Cruise is being punished for his criminally irresponsible attitude toward psychiatry and mental health in general. I don't really feel like linking to something or summarizing it, because most people probably know what I'm talking about. But to me, that is what he's done that's made me dislike him. That is why he's a Class A Asshole, and I'd like to think that his production deal wasn't renewed because he's displaying a bigotry that is all too common in today's society. I often think of homosexuals as the final minority group that is overtly and legally discriminated against, but people with mental illnesses definitely fit into that category too. (Women and racial minorities of all sorts are regularly discriminated against, of course, but at least that's technically illegal.)

Of course, that affects me a lot more personally than gay rights, because people with mental health problems happens to be a minority of which I am a part. So, because I'm feeling fiesty right now, despite being exhausted, I am going to stand up (figuratively speaking, I suppose) and say this, and I encourage others like me to do the same:

I am a victim of mental illness, and Tom Cruise and people who think like him can go fuck themselves.

Now, although Tom Cruise does make a fine poster/whipping boy, there are some problems with that. First, we need a better term than "victim of mental illness." Then, to balance out the inevitable PC-ness of whatever we come up with there, we need to take a page from the homosexual playbook and steal the bigots' derogatory term and embrace it. I've known lots of gay people who refer to themselves as "faggots" or "queers," so maybe we can start proudly referring to ourselves as "lunatics" or "nutjobs" or "basketcases."

Hmm... we've got our work cut out for us there.

Second, we need a short and memorable term for people who discriminate against us. Something that fits in perfectly alongside "chauvanist," "racist," and "homophobe." We can't say "Tom Cruise and people who think like him" every time, and way too many people qualify as "ignorant morons" for different reasons to use that.

But this is a battle that should be fought. Some day I would like to be able to ask my boss at work whether or not my health benefits cover psychiatrists and therapists without him filing a mental note that I am "potentially unstable" or something. Or, when somebody asks, "Where are you going?" to be able to answer truthfully that I'm going to a psychiatrist or therapist rather than rack my brain to remember whether or not I used the dentist as an excuse with that person recently. I suppose it's a personal battle as much as a societal one, because I could easily tell the truth in those situations. But the point I'm making is that anticipating the judgement of other people shouldn't have to be a factor. You know, kind of like how gay people can be "open" or "in the closet," but are still subject to the judgement of society at large.

I guess I'm working on being the mental health equivalent of more "open" and less "closeted."

Of course, the difference between having a mental illness and being gay is that the latter can be a celebrated point of pride, while the former is classified as an "illness" for a reason. We'll never be proud of our conditions, and would rather not have them at all, and often despise the fact that "normal" people will never know how we experience things.

Anyway, to bring things back around to the starting point, Tom Cruise wasn't dumped because of his ignorance and bigotry, nor his "disturbing" behavior. He was dumped because movie executive idiots don't think that people will go see his movies anymore. Money trumps everything else.

If it wasn't so early (might as well be "late," for all the sleep I got), I would try to organize this into something cohesive. But I'm letting it sprawl out, because I feel like it.

At any rate, my final thought is: fuck Tom Cruise. (And, you know, people who think like him.)

EDIT: As it turns out, Liz Spikol made almost the exact same point a few days ago. Oops.