So, my Critiquing the Arts professor told me if you attack a specific individual or company on a lot of blog sites, your blog is removed. But there's something that kinda pisses me off, and what's a blog for if not attacking random people and things you're pissed off at? Now that the coffee house in the Ragsdale building at St. Ed's is sponsored by Seattle's Best coffee, it's lost most of its appeal.
This coffee house is more than a little annoyance; it's costing me money. I used to get food there with my meal plan, but, mysteriously, they've stopped serving anything edible, including those old pastries they have on hand. The cafeteria has also been reconfigured to serve less appetizing food, so I've been resorting to eating at Whattaburger and the indispensable Burrito King and dropping cash far too often because of it.
Not that there's anything wrong with Burrito King. I'd take a bullet for numerous items on their menu, and if I could eat there for free, I would completely disregard my health and show up every day for lunch. But I have a meal plan and I didn't pay for it, so I should be benefiting from it and not spending hard earned money on burritos and cheeseburgers and delicious chocolate cream pie shakes from Sonic. I would have thought a corporate sponsorship for the coffee house would lead to a larger menu or no change at all. I can't see what St. Ed's or Seattle's Best would have to gain from this. Maybe they're cutting costs by limiting food service to the cafeteria, but we have that crazy Seattle's Best money now. Our money's long. So price shouldn't be an issue, but of course, it probably is. I really can't write any more. I've been wanting some Sonic for a minute here. Last year, I would've just went and gotten something from the coffee house.
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Critiquing the Arts Class Capsule Review: Ghostface-Supreme Clientele
By the year 2000, the hip hop dynasty of The Wu-Tang Clan had started crumbling. The legendary rap group's 1997 effort, "Wu-Tang Forever" sold two million copies, but the subsequent flurry of solo albums that followed weren't up to par, commercially or critically. After albums from Wu-Tang superstars like Method Man failed to make any sort of impact in the world of hip hop, few could fathom the Clan's eccentric maverick Ghostface would be one to bring attention back to one of rap's most popular brand names. But it was Ghost's stubborn nature and unwillingness to let go of his principles that put the Wu-Tang back near the top of rap's elite. Because he never cared about trends or making popular music, when Ghostface released "Supreme Clientele" in January of 2000, the album was so out-of-step with what was going on with hip hop that it was immediately looked upon as a classic.
"Supreme Clientele" is an album with no definitive mood; it lurches from ebullient to depressed. Over beautiful '70s-soul inspired beats, Ghost careens wildly from topic to topic. He celebrates his own success ("We Made It"), locks horns with crooked cops ("Saturday Night"), revisits grade school romance ("Child's Play"), and does it all with his unique blend of bizarre slang and vivid imagery. His inimitable style makes "Supreme Clientele" the album that it is, an album that sounds as fresh and inspired today as when it was released, more than seven years ago.
"Supreme Clientele" is an album with no definitive mood; it lurches from ebullient to depressed. Over beautiful '70s-soul inspired beats, Ghost careens wildly from topic to topic. He celebrates his own success ("We Made It"), locks horns with crooked cops ("Saturday Night"), revisits grade school romance ("Child's Play"), and does it all with his unique blend of bizarre slang and vivid imagery. His inimitable style makes "Supreme Clientele" the album that it is, an album that sounds as fresh and inspired today as when it was released, more than seven years ago.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Critiquing the Arts Class Review: The Godfather
There are very few things that get better with time. Wine is one. Pam Grier is another. But older movies tend to become dated fast. It could be because films have gotten so much more advanced on a technical level, or perhaps because the best old movies are usually pillaged by newer films looking for ideas, taking a piece of the older movie’s creativity with them. The Godfather, however, stands the test of time, more than thirty years after its initial release.
The fact that The Godfather remains so entertaining today has little to do with its plot. As I said above, newer movies are constantly recycling ideas from older ones, and there have been dozens of mob pictures that probably would never had existed were it not for their thematic older brother. But none of those movies, with the possible exception of the latest great gangster pic, the Departed, had a cast of actors as skilled as those in The Godfather. The character of Michael Corleone was Al Pacino's breakthrough role, and it can be argued that he's never been better. Robert Duvall, James Caan, Diane Keaton and the underappreciated John Cazale are all fantastic as well, but it's the legendary Marlon Brando who elevates the movie to such great heights. Toying with an almost perfect screenplay, Brando creates a pop culture icon who serves as The Godfather's backbone, giving a performance that burns its way into the head of anyone who's seen the film.
That's not to say the actors are the only reason The Godfather is a classic. There are plenty of amazing moments that can be seen again and again and still have the same impact. Who can forget the greedy movie studio executive waking up to a surprise in his bed, or Michael getting revenge on his rivals in a crowded Italian restaurant? The movie has been both parodied and outright stolen from so many times that people who haven't seen the movie know certain moments or lines of dialogue.
The finished product is so much more than a standard issue mafia movie. The Godfather is a dense parable about family, loyalty, making tough decisions and, uh, conflict resolution. It's that rare film that's better than the book that inspired it, yet it's still as rich as a good novel.
"The Godfather" weaves multiple storylines together amongst the large cast of actors, several of which are strong enough to be the focus of their own movie. The 1972 Oscar Winner for Best Picture is nearly three hours long, but the film is so absorbing that time becomes meaningless the moment the opening titles flash on the screen. It will almost certainly be remembered as one of the greatest movies of all time.
The fact that The Godfather remains so entertaining today has little to do with its plot. As I said above, newer movies are constantly recycling ideas from older ones, and there have been dozens of mob pictures that probably would never had existed were it not for their thematic older brother. But none of those movies, with the possible exception of the latest great gangster pic, the Departed, had a cast of actors as skilled as those in The Godfather. The character of Michael Corleone was Al Pacino's breakthrough role, and it can be argued that he's never been better. Robert Duvall, James Caan, Diane Keaton and the underappreciated John Cazale are all fantastic as well, but it's the legendary Marlon Brando who elevates the movie to such great heights. Toying with an almost perfect screenplay, Brando creates a pop culture icon who serves as The Godfather's backbone, giving a performance that burns its way into the head of anyone who's seen the film.
That's not to say the actors are the only reason The Godfather is a classic. There are plenty of amazing moments that can be seen again and again and still have the same impact. Who can forget the greedy movie studio executive waking up to a surprise in his bed, or Michael getting revenge on his rivals in a crowded Italian restaurant? The movie has been both parodied and outright stolen from so many times that people who haven't seen the movie know certain moments or lines of dialogue.
The finished product is so much more than a standard issue mafia movie. The Godfather is a dense parable about family, loyalty, making tough decisions and, uh, conflict resolution. It's that rare film that's better than the book that inspired it, yet it's still as rich as a good novel.
"The Godfather" weaves multiple storylines together amongst the large cast of actors, several of which are strong enough to be the focus of their own movie. The 1972 Oscar Winner for Best Picture is nearly three hours long, but the film is so absorbing that time becomes meaningless the moment the opening titles flash on the screen. It will almost certainly be remembered as one of the greatest movies of all time.
Monday, September 24, 2007
Is the St. Pauli Girl the Saint of beer?
The entire experience divined from drinking a St. Pauli Girl is magical. When you crack the cap off the bottle, a pungent aroma wafts toward you, smelling like...well you should drink one and find out what it smells like on your own. Next comes the best part--drinking! It's like a Heineken, only better. Now, I'm not one of those booze experts who can tell you St. Pauli is better because of the freshly grown hops or anything like that. The only thing I know is that it's the Ferarri to Heineken's Porsche. Best of all, it's a light beer, so it doesn't make you feel like you've been in a hotdog eating contest after drinking it the way Guiness does. But it's not too light; it isn't water in a beer can like Keystone.
Why are European beers so much better than ours?* When I was in Amsterdam, most bars and restaurants had a wopping two different beers on tap. One was Heineken, which is like the national beverage over there, but the other one was invariably Bud Light. If you live ANYWHERE in Europe, why would you drink Bud Light?
I write this drinking a Heineken, another fine beer that is just not doing it for me right now. I missed class, had to take my car into the shop, tried to help a friend with his bullshit identity crisis, broke a glass, lost $10, got some bad news from the guy who was supposed to be producing my album, and, on top of that, the season premiere of "Heroes" sucked. All I wanted was for my St. Pauli Girl to take me away to her kingdom of crisp flavor and smooth aftertaste. It's time to finish this blog and go turn out all the lights. Throw on some DJ Shadow and watch the streetlight that escapes in through my window make patterns on the ceiling until I fall asleep. And dream of my sweet St. Pauli Girl.
***With all due respect to Lone Star, Turbo Dog, Ziegenbach, Shiner, Sam Adams, Bass, Real Ale, Red Hook, Mississippi Mud, Rogue, and the highly underrated Arrogant Bastard Ale.
Why are European beers so much better than ours?* When I was in Amsterdam, most bars and restaurants had a wopping two different beers on tap. One was Heineken, which is like the national beverage over there, but the other one was invariably Bud Light. If you live ANYWHERE in Europe, why would you drink Bud Light?
I write this drinking a Heineken, another fine beer that is just not doing it for me right now. I missed class, had to take my car into the shop, tried to help a friend with his bullshit identity crisis, broke a glass, lost $10, got some bad news from the guy who was supposed to be producing my album, and, on top of that, the season premiere of "Heroes" sucked. All I wanted was for my St. Pauli Girl to take me away to her kingdom of crisp flavor and smooth aftertaste. It's time to finish this blog and go turn out all the lights. Throw on some DJ Shadow and watch the streetlight that escapes in through my window make patterns on the ceiling until I fall asleep. And dream of my sweet St. Pauli Girl.
***With all due respect to Lone Star, Turbo Dog, Ziegenbach, Shiner, Sam Adams, Bass, Real Ale, Red Hook, Mississippi Mud, Rogue, and the highly underrated Arrogant Bastard Ale.
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Kid Nation
When a friend of mine told me to watch CBS's new "Real World"-meets- "Lord of the Flies" reality show Kid Nation, a kidspIoitation show (new slang!) about a town made up entirely of children, I was initially resistant. I hate reality shows and years of working at a summer camp have made me terrified of kids, but when I broke down and watched the show's first episode on CBS's website this morning, I can't say I wasn't entertained. I've only seen one episode, and it showed me a blend of comedy and drama I had never witnessed before.
The show's premise involves dropping a bunch of kids, aged 8-15, off in a ghost town, giving them some basic resources to work with (and possibly a script to follow), and letting them govern themselves, which paves the way for what the show is really about: a bunch of kids acting cute or bratty in front of a camera while making decisions nobody that age should make.
Now, even for somebody who hates reality shows, I've been forced to watch The Real World a number of times, and while a lot of the concept behind both shows is the same ("hey, let's watch these people embarrass themselves!"), sometimes it's harder to laugh at Kid Nation. When 15-year-old Greg picks a fight with 11-year-old Mike or 8-year-old Jimmy sits in the dirt and cries from homesickness, you cringe. If people look ignorant, douchey, pathetic or just plain crazy on The Real World, you laugh, because you know these are grown-ass men and women who know exactly what they're doing when they sign up to be humiliated on TV. Meanwhile, the participants of Kid Nation are, well, kids. It's a guilty pleasure watching some succeed and some crash and burn and you can't help but feel you're being manipulated even as you enjoy it.
My favorite characters are Taylor (adorably bratty mini-southern belle), Sophia (eye-gougingly irritating know-it-all whose immaturity might be the funniest thing about the show), and Michael (born leader and probably the only kid on the show over 10 whose parents should be proud of him), but all the children have their entertaining aspects.
I'm almost ashamed to say I like a show this contrived, cruel and flat-out stupid, but God help me, I'm gonna keep watching. The personalities are compelling, and the conflict and beefing between the participants (always one of the redeeming aspects of this sort of show) is hilarious, even though you sort of feel like a dick watching children fight. I've been forced to sit through episodes of numerous reality shows and I've finally found one I enjoy. Here's hoping child labor laws don't deprive me of it.
The show's premise involves dropping a bunch of kids, aged 8-15, off in a ghost town, giving them some basic resources to work with (and possibly a script to follow), and letting them govern themselves, which paves the way for what the show is really about: a bunch of kids acting cute or bratty in front of a camera while making decisions nobody that age should make.
Now, even for somebody who hates reality shows, I've been forced to watch The Real World a number of times, and while a lot of the concept behind both shows is the same ("hey, let's watch these people embarrass themselves!"), sometimes it's harder to laugh at Kid Nation. When 15-year-old Greg picks a fight with 11-year-old Mike or 8-year-old Jimmy sits in the dirt and cries from homesickness, you cringe. If people look ignorant, douchey, pathetic or just plain crazy on The Real World, you laugh, because you know these are grown-ass men and women who know exactly what they're doing when they sign up to be humiliated on TV. Meanwhile, the participants of Kid Nation are, well, kids. It's a guilty pleasure watching some succeed and some crash and burn and you can't help but feel you're being manipulated even as you enjoy it.
My favorite characters are Taylor (adorably bratty mini-southern belle), Sophia (eye-gougingly irritating know-it-all whose immaturity might be the funniest thing about the show), and Michael (born leader and probably the only kid on the show over 10 whose parents should be proud of him), but all the children have their entertaining aspects.
I'm almost ashamed to say I like a show this contrived, cruel and flat-out stupid, but God help me, I'm gonna keep watching. The personalities are compelling, and the conflict and beefing between the participants (always one of the redeeming aspects of this sort of show) is hilarious, even though you sort of feel like a dick watching children fight. I've been forced to sit through episodes of numerous reality shows and I've finally found one I enjoy. Here's hoping child labor laws don't deprive me of it.
Friday, September 21, 2007
The Trouble With Computer Class
Dear God, I hate my Problem Solving with Computers class. It's not the professor's fault, or the workload; I just don't see how knowing how many computers were linked in the first ARPAnet network or what the abbreviation HTTP stands for is going to help me in real life. I'm really tired as I write this, and I have a shit-ton of things to do, so I'll make it short and sweet: computer class can eat me sideways. If my professor's reading this, I'm sorry. It's not your fault.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Why Common can never be forgiven.
Seven years ago, I saw Common at a show at Antone's. He'd just released his fourth album, "Like Water For Chocolate", and was finally getting some mainstream recognition to go along with his considerable talent. Common was my favorite rapper at the time, and even though none of my friends cared about him, and few even knew who he was, I resolved to go to the show by myself if I had to. I did.
It was the best show I'd ever gone to at the time. After the Black Eyed Peas, in the dues paying, pre-fame stage of their career opened up for him, Common hit the stage in knit pants and a daishiki and ripped it for the next two hours. Nearly a decade later, signs abounded that if I went back to see him, I'd be paying to watch an old man who'd lost his edge and wanted to make boring music for the coffee shop crowd. Those signs were his past three albums. But each of those had handfuls of songs that sounded like the hungry Common of old, and I figured as long as he didn't go overboard doing new material, it'd be a great concert.
In short, Common ran over my heart with an 18-wheeler. He didn't perform a SINGLE song off any of his first four albums, three of which are incredible. His bland new material dominated that night, making it sound more like a poetry slam than a hip hop show. He didn't even do his most famous song, 1994's "I Used to Love H.E.R.", I guess because most of his fans think his career began when he started hanging out with Kanye West a couple years back and didn't know what the hell a Common was in 1994. The newer songs he did, with a couple of exceptions, may be fine to play at a PETA rally, playing hackey-sack and smoking American Spirits, but they lacked the energy and vitality of his previous work.
I guess I have nobody to blame but myself for paying to go to this concert. I'd heard his recent work and didn't particularly enjoy it, and I knew going into the show that said recent work was making him more money than he'd ever had and exposing him to a whole new fan base. So I realized that hippie, incense and sandals PETA spokesman Common would be in attendance, because he's more popular than the raw, superlyricist Common of the past had ever been. But I thought the latter might show up for more than a couple of songs, and I was sadly mistaken. I paid twice what I'd paid in 2000 for a concert that wasn't half as good. Thanks for nothing, Com. I should've wasted my money on ACL.
It was the best show I'd ever gone to at the time. After the Black Eyed Peas, in the dues paying, pre-fame stage of their career opened up for him, Common hit the stage in knit pants and a daishiki and ripped it for the next two hours. Nearly a decade later, signs abounded that if I went back to see him, I'd be paying to watch an old man who'd lost his edge and wanted to make boring music for the coffee shop crowd. Those signs were his past three albums. But each of those had handfuls of songs that sounded like the hungry Common of old, and I figured as long as he didn't go overboard doing new material, it'd be a great concert.
In short, Common ran over my heart with an 18-wheeler. He didn't perform a SINGLE song off any of his first four albums, three of which are incredible. His bland new material dominated that night, making it sound more like a poetry slam than a hip hop show. He didn't even do his most famous song, 1994's "I Used to Love H.E.R.", I guess because most of his fans think his career began when he started hanging out with Kanye West a couple years back and didn't know what the hell a Common was in 1994. The newer songs he did, with a couple of exceptions, may be fine to play at a PETA rally, playing hackey-sack and smoking American Spirits, but they lacked the energy and vitality of his previous work.
I guess I have nobody to blame but myself for paying to go to this concert. I'd heard his recent work and didn't particularly enjoy it, and I knew going into the show that said recent work was making him more money than he'd ever had and exposing him to a whole new fan base. So I realized that hippie, incense and sandals PETA spokesman Common would be in attendance, because he's more popular than the raw, superlyricist Common of the past had ever been. But I thought the latter might show up for more than a couple of songs, and I was sadly mistaken. I paid twice what I'd paid in 2000 for a concert that wasn't half as good. Thanks for nothing, Com. I should've wasted my money on ACL.
Sunday, September 9, 2007
Another boring blog
The concept of the blog is one that I will probably never fully embrace. The Internet has given people around the globe the ability to stand on the proverbial mountaintop and shout their inane opinions for the world to listen to. People seem to think their thoughts and ideas somehow gain validity when they spend 15 minutes setting up a Livejournal account and hiding behind a screen name so they can anonymously bitch about anything and everything. Dude, you're a 37 year old cash register jockey at HEB; just because now you CAN tell the world how you think My Chemical Romance sold out or Heath Ledger will make a terrible Joker in the new Batman movie doesn't mean you should.
Now, I understand that writing about how blogs suck in your new blog is some hypocritical shit, but I have my reasons. My Critiquing the Arts professor at the wonderful St. Edward's University told me to create this blog, and since he's been an editor at one esteemed professional newspaper, and I have worked for exactly zero, I figured I should probably take his advice.
Anyway, there's nothing wrong with being opinionated, and it's not like I wish death on every blogger working out there in cyberspace; I just think the idea is a little silly. Some people would say that if you don't like blogs, fine, just don't read about them and don't complain. Let's look at this another way: I don't listen to, say, Fallout Boy or Mike Jones, but the modicum of their shitty music that I've been exposed to gives me the right to dislike them. And just because I don't listen to every song they put out doesn't mean I can't call them talentless hacks. Hopefully I'm not rambling and you see where I'm going with this.
On that note, welcome to my humble little blog. I'm not proud of it, but I guess I'll be updating pretty frequently, seeing as how it'd be nice to pass my Critiquing the Arts class. I'll be posting my own inane, worthless opinions every now and then, so feel free to read them, not read them, enjoy them, or think they suck.
One Love,
Travisty
Now, I understand that writing about how blogs suck in your new blog is some hypocritical shit, but I have my reasons. My Critiquing the Arts professor at the wonderful St. Edward's University told me to create this blog, and since he's been an editor at one esteemed professional newspaper, and I have worked for exactly zero, I figured I should probably take his advice.
Anyway, there's nothing wrong with being opinionated, and it's not like I wish death on every blogger working out there in cyberspace; I just think the idea is a little silly. Some people would say that if you don't like blogs, fine, just don't read about them and don't complain. Let's look at this another way: I don't listen to, say, Fallout Boy or Mike Jones, but the modicum of their shitty music that I've been exposed to gives me the right to dislike them. And just because I don't listen to every song they put out doesn't mean I can't call them talentless hacks. Hopefully I'm not rambling and you see where I'm going with this.
On that note, welcome to my humble little blog. I'm not proud of it, but I guess I'll be updating pretty frequently, seeing as how it'd be nice to pass my Critiquing the Arts class. I'll be posting my own inane, worthless opinions every now and then, so feel free to read them, not read them, enjoy them, or think they suck.
One Love,
Travisty
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