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The Bottle Let Me Down: Songs for Bumpy Wagon Rides

Some kids' records perch themselves atop an anti-Barney platform in the name of parental palatability, others reach out with artist recognition. But The Bottle Let Me Down: Songs for Bumpy Wagon Rides goes one better, reversing the whole premise so that parents, for an entire 26-track album, fully reclaim their listening rights. So what if "Rubber Ducky," "On Top of Spaghetti," "The Three Billy Goats Gruff," and "Senor El Gato" are among the song titles--this is music meant to celebrate Mom and Dad's last remaining shreds of coolness, from the retro-inspired jewel case to the alt-country acts' indie credibility. Alejandro Escovedo laments hitting the big One-O ("Candy just doesn't taste as good anymore") on "Sad & Dreamy"; Rosie Flores sends 'em flocking to the speakers with first track "Red, Red Robin"; Robbie Fulks feels the pain of "Godfrey," the sickly unemployed amateur children's magician; and the Cornell Hurd Band makes a compelling case for napkin use with "Don't Wipe Your Face on Your Shirt." Also weighing in on such subjects as funky butts, the difficulty of being green, and weasels, beans, frogs, and dogs are Devil in a Woodpile, Rex Hobart & the Misery Boys, and Split Lip Rayfield. Granted, grownups with R&B, jazz, or rock leanings won't get as much mileage out of this CD as those who sniff the twang in song titles like "Hinky Dinky Dee" and like the aroma, but there's no denying its down-home, keep-it-real musicianship--everything from Dobros to duckies do their part. If ever there was a record for musically deprived parents, this is it. Slip it in and show them, for 45 minutes if not once and for all, who's in the driver's seat. --Tammy La Gorce

Dus, ik zit in lijn 11 richting station. Ergens bij het noorderstation stapt een een groepje pubers in. Zo te zien zijn ze dertien, veertien jaar oud. Zo'n groep hangjongeren heeft meestal een ventje die de baas speelt, doorgaans de luidruchtige klojo. Bij deze groep is het echter ietjes anders. Het blijkt een ventje te zijn waarvan ik eerst dacht dat hij slechts elf, twaalf jaar oud was. Blijkbaar loopt z'n biologische klok een paar jaar achter. Heel surreeel om te zien dat hij het groepje leidt, temeer omdat hij waarschijnlijk het meest cherubische gezicht heeft dat ik ooit gezien heb. Zo'n gruwelijk schattig klein engeltje.

Behalve dan dat hij dat zichtbaar niet wil zijn. Logisch, schattig en stoer zijn wederzijds uitsluitend (vinden jochies van veertien). En om de baas te zijn moet je natuurlijk het stoerst van allemaal zijn. Hij doet goed z'n best: een Metallica shirt, een jas die er uitziet alsof 'ie gemaakt is van gerecyclede legertenten. Het feit dat z'n gezicht de hoofdoorzaak van z'n schattigheid is heeft hij blijkbaar niet echt door. En aangezien z'n jas een paar maten te groot is ziet het er eerder uit alsof klein broertje de klerenkast van grote broer geplunderd heeft. "Aaaah, so cute!"

Maar vlak voor centraal station bereikt wordt haalt onze miniatuur-James Dean z'n geheime wapen tevoorschijn: een sigaret! Oh jeetje! En ja hoor, als ze uitstappen steekt een van zijn minions z'n sigaret voor hem aan.

Stoer hoor.
_________

So I'm taking line 11 to the central busstation. On a stop near the northern station a group of teenagers gets in. They're around thirteen, fourteen years old. Now, most of the time, groups of kids that age have one guy who's acting like he's da boss. Usually, the obnoxious, slightly-dumb-but-strong bully. With this group it's different. It's the little guy I originally had guessed as only eleven years old. Guess his biological clock is ticking a bit slower than usual. Seeing him being the boss of this little gang is a bit surreal, not in a least because of his cherubic little face. He looks like a cute little angel.

Except for the fact that he's clearly trying not to. Makes sense, cute and tough are mutually exclusive (in the mindset of fourteen year old boys). And to be the boss you have to look tougher than anyone else of course. He's really trying his best, with his Metallica shirt, ripped jeans and a jacket that looks like it's recycled from old army tents. Too bad for him his adorable face is the main cause of his cuteness. And considering his clothes are a few sizes too large for him it looks like cute widdle brother borrowed some of his big brudda's clothes. Aww, soo cute!

But when we approach central station, or little James Dean pulls out his secret weapon: a cigarette! Gasp! And yes, when they get out, one of his minions lights the cigarette for him.

Well, aren't you the tough guy.

221:365
February 6, 2009
Friday! Yay!

So, the first time my brother went to Paris, he came home with some souvenirs for the kids and myself.

This is what I got. LOL!

What I've always found funny, is he saw those and was like "I'm getting those for Steph!"

Yeah, I didn't get a t-shirt, or a mini Eiffel Tower keychain. I got slippers that make it look like I have the feet of the Huntchback of Notre Dame with a pedicture. Yay!

In Big Brother, Mark Dice details actual high-tech spy gadgets, mind-reading machines, government projects, and emerging artificial intelligence systems that seem as if they came right out of George Orwell’s novel Nineteen Eighty-Four. Orwell’s famous book was first published in 1949, and tells the story of a nightmarish future where citizens have lost all privacy and are continuously monitored by the omniscient Big Brother surveillance system which keeps them obedient to a totalitarian government. The novel is eerily prophetic as many of the fictional systems of surveillance described have now become a reality. Mark Dice shows you the scary documentation that Big Brother is watching you, and is more powerful than you could imagine.