On No Account.

I just can't stop laughing over this. You really gotta love Prince Philip. My lady Cate Blanchett recently met the royal consort at Buckingham Palace. When the Prince asked Cate what she did for a living she said that she worked in the film industry. Well Prince Philip, always one to hold onto his end of the conversation immediately asked Cate if she could help him fix his DVD player. You know, working in the film industry and all. Cate tried to recover by stating she was in fact an actress. The Prince then went on about jellies and creams or something. I would give anything to be that oblivious.

Scored a sweet cache of cute Derek pics, and I couldn't be happier. Derek claims he's nervous about seeing his Superbowl commercial. And so am I. For altogether different reasons. When everyone else is watching the Superbowl show with rapt anticipation I'll be taking in the sights of the wondrous Star Trek Tour. But of course I've already mentioned that. To everyone I seem to come across. Even to people who aren't really there. But I'm sure one of you darlings will record it for me. You can always ask Cate for assistance.
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Brian McNamee's legal team is confident that Andy Pettitte is going to rat out his teammate Roger Clemens concerning Clemens' alleged steroid use during a meeting with the Congressional Oversight and Government Reform committee. Lawyers can be so tarsome that way. For instance, I was informed via email at the ungodly late hour of 6:30 last night that I have a meeting with one at 9:30 this morning which of course seems far to early for any type of civilized conversation, but we shall see. I for one don't think Andy will say anything that would hurt his teammate. Andy may be a Christian, but he isn't that kind of Christian. They haven't grown Christians like that in a long time.

I'm still waiting for my Wood Wood shirt. Shipping was delayed or something which in one sense is nice knowing the UPS man isn't coming anytime soon, but I do get anxious awaiting my packages. Slam X Hype, however, have a nice piece on the Spring Summer 08 line with interviews and pictures n' shit. I'm already liking this stuff more than their last two seasons.

For All The Reasons I Never Gave.

These are truly exciting times that we are living in. I'll be attending the Star Trek Tour, yes Tour I said, at the Queen Mary Dome in Long Beach this Sunday. Oh Queen Mary. To say I'm popping at the seams although not the highest form of understatement would nonetheless be a fair description of my current state of wee. People always ask me if I wear costumes to these things, and it always strikes me as odd because of course one would wear a costume, but the only problem is that I've never been to one of these things, and I've never really gone out and scored a costume. However, I do have a nifty Tron inspired Han Cholo tee shirt that I've already set aside.
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So I watched this movie Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street, and it's apparently a musical. The movie was gruesome to say the least and reminded me of another show with Angela Lansbury whom I love. But I guess the idea is that rather than speak the words, they sing many of them. All the time. Throughout the movie. It was a fiasco.


The always agreeable Robinson Cano has apparently finalized his contract with the Yankees guaranteeing him $30 million over the next four years. For those of you who may not pay attention to every Yankee game I think it should be noted that this is money well spent. He's quite the contributor defensively and at the plate, and before this contract he was like making less than I do, and I don't do anything. Literally nothing. I think I may have pulled some papers out of a file yesterday but I can't be sure. No seriously, I think people may give Robbie a bad time because when he does screw up, which he does occasionally, he generally looks really silly in the process. Like trying to throw the ball one way, but it sorta accidentally goes the opposite way. You remember. And as I think we all know, faces this pretty do not come cheap. The Yankees have set another record for highest payroll. Following in a distant second place is some team in Massachusetts.


At this point I don't think they even really care.

I was poking around Yes Network and I noticed this cute video of Mike Mussina. He shows us his house which is to say he shows the reporters his monstrous garage with his collection of vintage Corvettes, Chevys, and tractors, yes dare I say tractors. He's quite the all-American guy I suppose, and since the "tour" was limited to the toys in his garage he must be a little shy about his Hummel collection or the assortment of Lladro in the Garden Room or whatever. No seriously, it's tres adorable and you can catch it at this link at the multimedia showcase section, but no embedding or something silly I care not what.

I Used To Know People Like That.

I had an altogether dreadful night and thoughts of spring training couldn't even help. I don't know why I do this to myself, but I am just addicted to airline disaster documentaries. Can not turn away. I really shouldn't put myself through it I know. I fly so much as it is, and I need to be heavily medicated at that. If I'm not medicated then I just scream in unbridled terror from takeoff to landing. I mean we all have internal monologues. Mine is simply capable of screaming in unbridled terror for hours on end. Or at least until the booze trolley comes. Well I watched a documentary on Flash Airlines Flight 604 last night, and it was fine I thought. Until I tried to sleep and I had dreams of airline catastrophes for what seems like all night long. As I lied in bed trembling, I decided to turn on the heat. Then I tried to get back to sleep by thinking of spring training, kittens, shopping, man-sex, but it always ended up with cabin depressurization and screaming. So tarsome.

I'm sure you may have heard that Henry Cavill is appearing in some of the new Dunhill advertisements. If you're not sure who he is, then I suggest you go pick up Season One of The Tudors, and apologize to your eyes for watching something altogether inappropriate. After episode one I think you'll be hooked. I also hear, however, from WWD that British designer Kim Jones is going to be joining Dunhill as creative director. That's certainly a coup. Or something.
Not all is attractive however. You are of course forgiven if like me you just can't see what lies beneath former J.Crew designer turned into something slightly different Tim Hamilton. His Spring/Summer 08 line is about as twee as twee can get. I'm sure some of the individual pieces are something of note, but forming a look around this notion smacks of a desperation so deep and unmoving we know not how. The buzz is, well just that, a great deal of buzz. And I'm no closer to feeling the double breasted cardigan than I was last season. [Images: Skeleton Legs]

What They Fail To Grasp Is What They Usually Conclude.

Weekends are a wonderful time to do all the things you never really want to do anyway. Laundry, cleaning, shopping. The trouble is finding the time to do so many unpleasant tasks. What with three hour documentaries on the Revolutionary War, and a 2 hour documentary on the War of 1812 (riveting) one scarcely has the time to get any chores done. In the end I did manage to fit it all in. In a manner. I even spent an inordinate amount of time organizing my closet. By tone, and then by fabric, and then by country of origin. I recently picked up a shirt from these guys. It's delicious in a way, and fits in nicely with the Japanese muted jersey section of my closet. I'm expecting a shirt from Wood Wood, and I believe that might actually begin a section on quirky Danish garments I should best ignore, but a sale is a sale.

I was understandably taken when I read on SlamxHype that Comme des Garcons has released a new fragrance in a nifty gold bottle. The scent with notes of pepperwood, tumeric and geranium is already for sale in Japan and will hopefully be available on Luckyscent soon. It's a fools dream, but I may pop on down to the MOCA just to see if they have it. You never know, and Miss Mapp and I do like to pop on down to places.

I really cant say anything that interesting about this site, but they do have a nice article on Imitation of Christ's diffusion label (whatever that means) Imitation. Stuff looks pretty swanky, as you might expect, and should be available at select Barney's, Ian in Seattle, Fred Segal in Santa Monica, every other mid to high end street wear shop in San Francisco. and just at a ton of places actually. Probably get sick of it before long, but for now I may just have to pop on over and check it out. There I go again a poppin.

Fast Food Delights.

Well thanks to the diligent eye of one of my Seattle neighbors and their slavish attention to the local evening news the otherwise insightful topic of today's blog has been shelved in favor of something a bit more droll. At the end of the day it seems that I make a bit too much money to benefit from any lame ass tax incentive or incentive package or whatever the hell you want to call it whether I choose to stud some bitch or not. Which just seems crude to me.

Luckily though, Compadre was good enough to take me out for dinner at one of the fine dining establishments we have here in Los Angeles. They're so numerous that just deciding where to eat can become a bit of a past-time. I kid really because 99% of the food that is offered in Los Angeles is really nothing of the kind. It's a lot like raw bits of beef you might throw at some wild dogs to entice them to stop chewing on your otherwise sumptuous ankle. Useful in little respects other than managing the hoards of wild animals that roam these streets in their Infinty G who gives a fucks looking for that next little gem they can impress their betas with. It was something like Michelangelo on Silverlake Boulevard, and it was cramped, and drafty, and they went out of their way to give us the worst table. The Mozzarella di Bufala crostini were fair in their own right, a bit bland, and served with seasonal greens and herbed olive oil. Yes. Herbed. $20 for that appetizer. My Penne Puttanesca was a mistake from the start. Not even a whisper of anchovy, barely a peppering of olive, and I think you know what might happen if you allow capers to carry a meal. Not a good balance. And speaking of balance. Compadre's Eggplant Parmesan had so much balance that it came out tasting like air. I'm joking of course because it would have been quite preferable if it came out tasting like air. Inside the rather impressively toasted dish was a frozen vegetable medley ala Swansons. Lima beans too! And pine nuts, so numerous to even count, added the last touch that made us both want to say good morning forever. Both meals, however, were served with delightful basil leaves as garnish. And you know how fancy your fresh herbs can be. The place is run by two Venezuelans that have perfected an Italian accent which is too silly for me to even to mention.

If any of you are contemplating a trip to Los Angeles and think you might get hungry while you're here then God help you, but you really should heed this advice. Always go where there are the fewest people. If a lot of people are raving about a place then I can guarantee with almost certainty that the place is hideous. And in all likelihood is serving it's salivating patrons Alpo. Fucking wild dogs.

What I Remember Was Eternity.

This is yet another one of my current favorites that is yet to release a full length album. Vampire Weekend comes out on the 29th, and Glasvegas comes out with a new single on February 14th. I really have been listening to it a lot though. Almost made myself sick off it. Tarsome.

Things You Thought You Forgot.

This does seem like an awful lot of fuss just to entice me into watching the Superbowl celebration. I'm not sure it's actually going to work, but as long as Derek gets paid I suppose that's all that matters.

Something That Never Was.

If it's not one thing it's another. I awoke with a start at 2:30 in the morning and I could just tell that something was not right. I looked over onto the table to see what time it was, and the clock was empty. The electricity was out in my apartment and it was the perfect time. You see how hypersensitive I am? It didn't take me long to figure out that the electricity was out in only half my apartment. I quickly decided that rearranging my apartment so that everything could be plugged into the opposite side was both ambitious and weird. I took to the fuse box where for a moment the thought of electrocution crossed my mind, but I won't bore you with the heroics of the matter. Needless to say I was successful in restoring power to my apartment, resetting my clocks, and curling back into bed.

I was on my way home yesterday to catch a documentary on the Regicides that led the conspiracy to kill Charles I, which incidentally was beyond fascinating, when some monstrous piece of joke gave eeh-balls to my rather sharp rain weather gear. I was appalled. He was standing there soaking wet in some tattered camo-hoodie pullover cloth piece and he had the nerve to stare at me? I shrugged it off because obviously I'm above it, but I do believe in dressing for the weather.


So completely out of left field it isn't even ironic, but I understand that P Diddy would like to change his name to the name of his clothing line Sean John. This is what he says, and it's just precious.

"I have always evolved and taken a different name," he says. "Right now I want to be Sean John because that’s where I am right now.”

Will having the same name as his clothing label do anything to bring credibility to P Diddy as a serious fashion designer? No of course not, don't be silly. But he must be serious about it because it's like the first line of his Wikipedia page. It must be so nice to take yourself so seriously and stuff. From now on I think I'd like to be called His Majesty the Jizacked Cadillac because you know that's just the space I'm in right now. "Evolution", as I understand it, rarely occurs over a species' own lifetime. Personal growth is another matter. Maybe P Diddy learned how to speak French and the fresh nom de guerre is his reward?

You know...I'm beginning to think that Scientology isn't what makes people like Tom Cruise crazy. I think it's just old fashioned nouveau riche retardation. If you give poor people a little bit of spending money they up and forget how to act civil to their fellow carbies. I'm all for socialism and all, but I'm less for the disappropriation of the super rich so much as I'm for the disappropriation of the stupid and the tacky. And the brainwashed. But I still may just be in a bad mood over the whole electricity fiasco.

The Outcome Of Where.

I think it may be a good thing that I'm staying in Los Angeles for a few more months. I was poking around my usual sites when I read that Comme des Garcons will be opening one of their famous guerrilla stores in downtown Los Angeles. Four blocks from my office to be more precise. The MOCA gift shop has carried a nice assortment of Comme des Garcons fragrances, candles, wallets, bags and the like for some time now, but I think this may be something a bit more interesting. The shop is slated to be open for one year beginning February 16th, and can be found just down the street from the perpetually tragic Situation Normal on 4th.

John Galliano continues to blow my pretty little mind away. I was doing something quite innocent when I was redirected to mens.style.com and I got a face load of this. I put on the slide show, and everything started out so normal with a chunky bit of this, and an over-sized bit of that, but then quickly descended into the bat-shit bizarro eye crack you see here. It was dubbed torture couture by boingboing. That gave me a giggle. It must be so nice to be clever like that.

My long weekend in the county was as relaxing as I could have hoped for. I did very little in the way of anything, but was able to enjoy some nice food, shopping and reading. I read something about Derek and Gabrielle Union that made my eyes roll. Seriously. I still have a headache from it.

Just A Reminder Of Why We're Here.

We haven't seen hardly a hair of Derek on the blog for a bit so I was thrilled when I found this partial advertisement for clear juice. I think you may need to watch the Super Bowl festival to see the entire clip which is quite cruel, but you'll always have the clip.

I Thought Only For A Moment.

Orchard Street clothing hucksters have recently opened an online shop. A lot of it is the same ol' Rag & Bone, Surface to Air, and Obedient Sons which I know can be awfully tarsome. But I was surprised to see a nice selection of Preen and just a whisper of Christophe Lemaire. I think the last bit of Lemaire I managed to wrangle was at a thrift store. Or maybe a friend's closet. They also sell their own label at the shop, but I've tried a few, and their folksy graphics and in your face "attention to detail" ultimately induce more yawns than anything else. But check out the other dry goods if you get a chance.

It Must Be Larger Than We Imagined.

If you get a spare moment, and I know how hard those can be to come by, then you should definitely watch this movie. I watched it last night, and quite enjoyed it. For a moment I was even able to grasp the underlying forces behind West L.A. trend whores, as well as Echo Park hipsters. It was an epiphany there is no doubt about it. But it only lasted for a moment which is how many flourishes of brilliance are I suppose. Enjoy.

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Click here is you would like to peek at the men's schedule for Paris Fashion Week. You may regrettably miss Louis Vuitton which is a crush I know, but if you move quickly you may be able to make some of the other shows. There's a plane taxiing now. If you run you might catch it. I'll be spending the long weekend in the country far removed from such worldly cosmopolitan concerns.


And lastly there is the trend watch from Milan Fashion Week. Or at least the trends that some overdone foppish douche from Details took notice of.

Keep The Laughter To Yourself.

I am so mad right now I could just spit. So I ordered a shirt from activeendeavors.com about a week ago. I was sent a confirmation email of my order almost instantly. Then this morning, some six days later, I receive this absolutely astounding email that told me - amongst other things - that due to inventory errors, incompetence, and some random cloud of lameness, they were forced to cancel my order. They offered me some stupid discount on future purchases - which I can acquire myself if I google "activeendeavors promotional code" - as compensation for my troubles.

This kind of bull pucky really burns me up to no end. I had to endure a similar experience with barneys.com only then they had the audacity to send me something completely different in a different size and call it good. A few months later Barneys was sold to some Japanese fish cake farmer or something insane.

It has seriously put me in a real funk this morning. I can't even bring myself to blog about interesting things which at the moment there obviously are none. I really can't stand behind this establishment for another second. I was lucky in that I had my breakfast before I opened my email. I would have completely lost my appetite. How this is going to effect elevenses remains a deep mystery.

Of course I would never actually spit. I must have just lost myself for a moment.

I Found Meaning In Every Line.

Last night was a bit out of character for me. Instead of my usual domestic leisure and idle pursuits I decided to attend the cinema with Compadre. It was a decision we would both soon regret. To get to the movie we needed to go to Hollywood, and I don't just mean Zankou on Sunset, I mean the belly of the beast. Hollywood and Vine is where we had to go via train, and I insisted on purchasing tickets, even though Compadre said it was pointless because they never check tickets. Well sure enough, right after the mute stopped hassling us for whatever was scribbled on his paper, we saw some officers and they were checking tickets. I felt vindicated, but it was short lived since they were only checking tickets if you looked poor and not white so we kinda lucked out with that one. Lucked out in the same way on the way home.

Once we arrived we were beset by all manner of glamour-puss, movie freak, and run-of-the-mill Hollywood twit. We had barely enough time to buy our tickets, visit the restroom and buy our gummis before the movie started. I commented to Compadre that it's a sad commentary on the future of films when more and more people are opting to stay home, and watch movies on their computers or televisions, and now when people do decide to dabble in some low culture mindless sitting in the same direction as everyone else it seems that they aren't even bothering to show up on time.

"Yes. Two for National Treasure please."
"I'm sorry sir, but that film started an hour ago."
"Oh that's alright I'm sure it doesn't matter."

I sat there the entire time just wondering to myself (hopefully not aloud) that there are countless people in this country that actually do this more than once every other year or so. They make a habit out of it. While in concessions we ran into some old friends that we never bother to call where I confirmed a lunch date next week that I've been avoiding for the past 7 months. We told our friends we were watching National Treasure and their immediate response was "It sucked!" You see. People in Hollywood can be so tactful and polite. The essence of breeding and sophistication with buttered popcorn and agro mutes to boot. I was shocked that they had seen the movie already, and were already back for another. I found this experience as harrowing as anything else I can imagine, and they were doing it again! Remarkable. Maybe I'm just insular or boring, but they were right, the movie was absolutely inane. No point in explaining why. I spent a night at the movies. It should speak for itself.

This Has To Be The Fourth Time.

This weekend was an altogether lazy affair. Somewhat by choice and somewhat by necessity. I attended a meeting at work on Friday afternoon, the subject matter of which, quite naturally, almost had me flying up to Seattle and quitting this disaster of Los Angeles once and for all. The words to Walk Away Rene stirring in my head as I convinced myself I would never look upon this place again. I gathered myself somewhat and stopped short of buying a $600 plane ticket. But the entire episode took it's dear toll.

Did some thrifting and whatnot on Saturday. I went to Amoeba and picked up some documentaries. The nit at the check stand asked me if I was doing research. I told her that I could in fact read if I needed to do research and that these films were for my afternoon leisure. I hate Amoeba so very much.

Had a delightful Sunday brunch with Compadre at the Red Lion. I had some interesting latkes which came about after the server told me I may not enjoy pickled herring. It was a German restaurant so most everything on the menu was an adventure. Did some more thrifting this time at the Hollywood Goodwill and picked up another Seize Sur Vingt shirt, and some really weird Issey Miyake smock, and this and that of course.
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The Milan menswear shows have been hitting the news lately. The main themes are growing concern over market over saturation with McBrand this and McBrand there, and of course the ever growing Euro-Gap APC which I understand just opened it's second outlet store in - you may have to sit down for this - Brooklyn. Fashion it seems is just full of surprises. Oh and apparently anglomania is the new thing, not the Vivienne Westwood line, but the actual word. But we knew that already. I hardly ever leave my house without listening to Rule Britannia.

If I see you wearing plaid or flannel outside your house I will make fun of you. And I will not stop until you suffocate on your own shame.

It Would Be Wise To Ignore.

I arrived at the office around 6:00 am, and the entire place smelled foul. I have no idea what these animals do every day after I leave promptly at 2:30, but something deep inside that I dare not look at or acknowledge tells me it's unnatural. One of the more ample carbies has litter strewn about his desk, and then another surface. Behavior not unlike a diseased squirrel. They bathe in the lavatories here. And not in the way of an i-D photo spread, but more like Rome, with less fountains. It's a ghastly place to work.
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Accountants are by and large pack animals. Slightly under evolved in most practical ways, but useful and perhaps even necessary in a small spectrum of areas. They fulfill their role in society dutifully and for the most part without much complaint. It is, however, when they go to lunch that they really take their passive aggressive claws out on an uncaring and ambivalent world. The accountants at Price Waterhouse Cooper in the California Plaza are particularly troublesome. Their groups strut, dive bomb, cascade, and thunder in unison in an almost weird indiscernible path. Groups of 11 or 9, but almost always a prime number. Together and with their intractable one-dimensional minds and a healthy smattering of charcoal viscose they make up a force of nature. I'm almost surprised that buildings aren't compelled to get out of their way such is their force. The words "pardon me" or "excuse" or even "coming though" never enter into their 87 word sub-mammalian vocabulary. I observe them and am always half expecting them to sniff one another's asses,

"Did you find dim sum downtown?"
"I think I read something on Chowhound, but I can't be sure."
"You cad!"
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My adventures with Lucia continue. The bounty of Lucia's inheritance is quickly being spread to all corners of Riseholm. Number 25 Brompton Square perhaps the pearls, but # 25 is just right across from her nemesis Olga Bracely's seasonal home. What to do? Lucia finds crosswords imbecilic which was a surprise to me. I love doing the crossword. I used to have them delivered, but then they stopped coming. Luckily I found an entire drawer full in my kitchen last night. You can find the neatest things in your kitchen if you just look.

If It Were Actually Nowhere.

Well I had absolutely nothing to do at work so I thought I'd run in straight away and get to it. As I think Oscar Wilde may have once said, it's really the only thing I do with any degree of skill. Unfortunately I was stuck behind this incredibly rude man the entire way from the train station and it has just put me in a terrible way. I was so mopey that I had to get back on the coffee. Local Starcocks. It was miserable. And you really can tell if someone likes to take it up the ass based on what they order at Starcocks. It's more illuminating than the Hollywood Home Depot.



I finished a rather engaging and rousing book on the Norman Conquest, and now I'm back to reading the brilliant and superficial ramblings of Lucia. I'm currently on Make Way For Lucia, and Lucia has just fallen into a good deal of inheritance, but is far far too distraught to discuss it in any depth - other than some stunning Queen Anne furniture - while dining over a fine piece of fish. These books really are charming and they take me back to a time when I didn't technically exist.

I'm currently listening to BBC World and they will not shut up about the $2,500 Tata Nano. The car is a revolution that aims to make Indians just as polluting as Americans.


Astronomers have announced that the Milky Way may contain hundreds of intermediate mass black holes. The existence of intermediate mass black holes is still theoretical, however the theoretical evidence for their existence is compelling. Whatever the hell that means. If true, these particular black holes would pose little risk to our planet as their gravitational radius is only a few hundred kilometers. Meanwhile, some other astronomers have detected the largest black hole ever measured. This particular black hole has a mass of roughly 18 billion times that of our sun. The speed with which we are hurtling through the universe is incredible.

The Vacancy Will Overwhelm You.

I woke up this morning at a somewhat reasonable hour, and I had some very good news waiting for me. Hillary Clinton won the New Hampshire primary. I'm not really one to get into politics. I find the entire affair a little unseemly and salacious. But I was getting a little depressed that Hillary was lagging, and this was just the spark I think I needed. I mentioned earlier following the facile and unilluminating Apple Youtube ad that I would vote for McCain before I voted for that Obama douche. Then along came media celbre Oprah to save the day and my decision was almost made for me. A media and hype driven campaign seems to underscore and in many ways illustrate a striking problem in American politics. It certainly goes nowhere near addressing it. I want a technocratic nerdy woman in charge. Not some simpering charmer huckster with grand notions and small ideas with a penchant for making women cry. Douche.
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So one of my favorite websites for a laugh has long been engrish.com. If you haven't checked it out slap yourself and then please do. Apparently, as I read on coolhunting, a recent phenomenon in China is Chingrish. Just nonsensical signs with English words but nothing even remotely approaching an English phrase. And I guess the eff word has been making it's way into many signs due to a glitch in some translation matrix. The Chinese government is making a sincere attempt to clean up the sign before the upcoming Olympic games that most self respecting nations will be boycotting.



Some dude in London named the Decapitator is wandering around and turning luxury signs and billboards into macabre feasts for the eyes. It may be the death of luxury brands as we know it, or it may be the death of trite anti-consumerism in art. In either case it would be a welcome change. I'm being a bit snide, but I actually do kind of like it. Mainly because no one is asking me to buy it.

Are You An Entity?

I wasn't feeling any of the documentaries that were on last night so I called it an early night. The consequence was that I woke up at 3:00 am and I was wide awake. I understand from some movie I watched that 3:00 am is the witching hour where demons are believed to come out and mock the holy trinity or something. I remembered this, and felt spooky so I put on a Richard Dawkins documentary focusing on alternative medicines and pseudo-science and I was laughing my fool ass off in no time. I really shouldn't say anything because I wear Aveda and that supposedly is based on some ayurvedic nonsense. And I try to eat macrobiotic, but then I hear Madonna does too and I just immediately lose my appetite. But some of these people in this documentary were just hysterical. And I think Richard Dawkins is about one of the most adorable people alive. I won't spoil the surprise. If you want to watch it it's here.
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I just had the most charming conversation with this magnificent troll that fancies himself an attorney. This individual never speaks to me on any subject whatsoever. For the longest time I had serious doubts whether he had even mastered the skill of speaking, but here he was, far too early in the morning, asking me questions about all manner of things. I thought I was being rude enough by answering "I really don't care" to all his queries, but he just remained there. Speaking to me. Even I find it hard harboring such ill will towards someone who obviously means me no harm, but sometimes they make it so easy. Like all the countless unattractive people looking for sex on craigslist and they think you're joking when you respond to their ad and suggest that they might be better off with needlework or perhaps reading poetry in their clothes. No not kidding. In fact I could argue it's a moral imperative.

I Knew Them All But Only Partially.

The rainfall over the weekend was nothing less than torrential. It really put a damper on most of the weekend. We did manage to grab some brunch at Square One. The meal was mostly tasty, partially bland, and quite minimally repellent so all in all it was a success. We dined on the outside patio which faces Fountain and Scientology HQ. There was a distressed latina screaming into the pay phone and she was really upsetting one of the diners. He kept shushing her, and was really quite rude given how distressed the young lady was. It was a shocking and disappointing glimpse at class division in the city of fallen angels. I mean was she really bothering him that much? Could he really not enjoy his brioche French toast because of her? God knows by the looks of him he would have done well to skip brunch, and every other meal of the week, but that's just me. Later I scooted on down to Hollywood & Highland, and it was a total clusterfuck. I was lucky to get my Aveda and get out without being handed some "artists" latest "release." Seriously though, there were people walking around that made me laugh out loud. Right there on Hollywood Boulevard in front of God and everybody. It was priceless. I can't even describe what it looks like to see a 17 year old Ohio brat wearing his brand new Phenomenon hoodie and chains, with shades, and swagger smoking (I shit you not) a cigar. He really did think himself the shit or whatnot. I simply thought to myself that his dreams are about to be shattered.
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The drama surrounding the Yankees is almost too much for me right now. Roger Clemens and Andy Pettitte have been asked to testify before Congress on January 16th regarding the use of steroids. Roger Clemens spoke to 60 minutes last night, and I of course was already in bed, and Mr. Clemens has predictably filed a defamation suit against his former trainer Brian McNamee. Roger Clemens also claimed to be "shocked" that Andy Pettitte took HGH. Oh please. Oh hell no. Roger may be a bit of a mincing diva, but I hardly think he's a retarded deaf mute. I don't see how he could throw the ball so straight if he were.
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Our man Morrissey's people are in negotiations with the Iranian Ministry of Culture to play a show in Tehran in June. You may remember Tehran. It's where they execute homosexuals who in no way in fact exist. Morrissey is also rumored to be planning an entire tour of the Middle East this summer including stops in Beirut and Jerusalem.

On a recent trip to Ron Herman I happened upon a jumper I liked. It was from this label Relwen I had never heard of before. I didn't think much of it at the time. Rugged this, classic that, a thermal tee here, a graphic there. I thought their birdie icon looked a bit ridiculous next to the Free City birdie icon that was all up and down Ron Herman. Is it the Year of the Birdie or something? Anyway, if self-sustaining electro-clique fashion bloggers have their way Relwen will become the new Apolis Activism or something equally irrelevant. I noticed that all their clothes are made in India and China. I pointed this out to the fashion blog I was reading at the time, but it seems that when they invite comments they really are only inviting comments that perpetuate hype, and can not simply be bothered by comments that point out suck, contradiction, or ridiculousness. Oh well I tried. The fight for justice and diminishing fug continues.

Can You Feel The Impending Damnation?

The winter solstice celebration just keeps on coming. At least for me anyway. As California braces for some winter storms I thought quite realistically I had narrowly escaped, the pressies just keep rolling in to warm my cockles. Compdre swung by last night with the most glorious gift anyone could ever receive. Ever has received for that matter. A New York Yankees set of pint glasses, coasters, and this milk can thingy. Glorious! This brings my collection of pint glasses up to something like 15, and my collection of novelty glassware generally up to something like 50 hundred. It sounds like an astounding number, but I break glasses so readily I hardly even notice.

Our world was then seriously rocked as we settled down to watch a documentary on the Mormon Youth Reprogramming center Tranquility Bay. It astounded me what these children are subjected to, and the allegations raised in the documentary are absolutely shocking. One school located in Mexico is said to have been closed down by Mexican authorities for child abuse. I'm surprised something like this is allowed to go on in a Commonwealth country. Someone should write to The Queen. But the parents that were interviewed that found raising their child "All too taxing what with the 9 others" struck me as idiotic and quite simply stupid in an almost simple minded apologetic way. The solution really is to institutionalize the parents for sterilization and evaluation. At least make sure we don't have over-medicated low ball morons raising children in the snow swept fields of Utah. There are many watch-dog groups that monitor these institutions, but here is just a sample of the bizarreness. You can watch the documentary yourself here.

And while I'm being crotchety, I just want to say that the solution to all of America's woes is to tax all churches at something around say 99.5%. If their aims are as genuine as they say then they certainly don't need the money, and just think of all the bullets we could buy for our troops. But if they insist on influencing policy in America then they better start ponying up some dough to finance those policies.

I have no idea how those two things are related, but it just came to me so they must be. Eat your heart out Descartes.
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I may have mentioned that I recently had the pleasure of going to the largest REI you have ever. There was seriously enough crunch there to snap your neck. But I did take particular notice of the Arc'Teryx jackets. I really like a lot of the styling details, and the cuts, and many of the colors will just blow your mind. And subtle branding. There were no flashy North Face logos asymmetrically positioned somewhere near a shoulder blade no. Now, in the middle of what I see as only one of countless colabbing cluster-fucks, Arc'Teryx is "teaming up" with footwear peddlers Gourmet and menswear huckster Richard Kidd for a line of apparel. By apparel I'm assuming something you wear under your space station of a parka. Might be nice, but I seriously doubt any of it comes in Hunting.

Talking About Ways And Means.

So I was reading somewhere that David Beckham is honoured to be a gay icon. Of course we all know that he wasn't voted top gay icon, but second top gay icon, but apparently close means something in horseshoes, hand grenades, soccer, and the gay. Ben Cohen was voted top gay icon as I believe I've already mentioned and of course it makes complete sense on a properly ordered gay unicorn planet. Someone should tell David Beckham that being a tireless metrosexual isn't entirely the same thing as being a queer icon. I don't think Ben Cohen would be caught dead wearing Roberto Cavalli jeans or anything else with the phrase 8% elastane on the label. And I won't even bring up the sweater dresses. And shaking your naked ass across the pages of W Magazine doesn't really do it either. If that were the case then Brad Pitt would have been voted top icon three of the last 9 years and I simply have no recollection of seeing that memo. But it can't be all David Beckham's fault. I mean a lot of people must have voted for him in order for him to get second place, so the only explanation is that most of the people surveyed probably don't know what icon means, and I guess since we're on the subject those same people can't even spell Derek Jeter.
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So if you are in the mood for some spensive fug, have absolutely no class, and you happen to live anywhere besides the United States then oh my God how much your day is going to suck less when you realize that Prada has opened an online store for everywhere besides the United States. We really should thank them for that.

Something else I suppose you can only buy in the United Kingdom is this absolutely hideous Kaws x Comme Des Garcons wallet. Now I love me my Comme des Garcons wallets I surely do, but I sincerely think Comme des Garcons has to stop this colab bullshit. I mean it was nice what they've done, but you know I'm kinda colabbed out for the moment, and when someone happens to mention Kaws I just think to myself "Get a fucking clue you retarded douche lick, and if you get a sec could you just turn down Lil' Wayne because I really do like to hear it when I'm slapping the shit out of someone."
This morning was one of those mornings when I got all the way to the train station before I realized I had left the majority of my existence back in my living room. It actually worked out rather well though. I'm not sure if most people in Los Angeles are ready for a homosexual in a hunting vest walking down Santa Monica Boulevard so a select few of them were treated to this morning's double feature. Hunting is the new couture after all. And you say street, and I say subsistence income with a magazine subscription.

It's The Music I Walk To Sister.

I really wasn't expecting to come back to work after my break. I was planning on just extending my break a wee bit and picking up this employment business sometime at the end of summer, but as I was collapsed on my sofa on Monday I called into work and they informed me that I should come in so here I am. And not a moment too late. I even cleared out my desk and everything, but I understand that was simply in vain.

It is nice being back in a place with a somewhat rational weather system, although my last two days in Seattle were miraculous. Pike Place Market, Barney's some place called Office Depot, sumptuous dinners ala Compadre, the worst game of pool in my life ala Compadre, brief jaunt to West Seattle, Oysters by the bucket ala Anonymous Dan, Chanel, Chanel, Chanel, Cougar Gold and by extension the Cougar Gift Shop. All in all I exhausted myself a bit too much to have a bona fide panic attack as I was boarding the plane, but that's probably neither here nor there. Oh, and there was over 10 inches of snow in Idaho, and I was able to tool around in a four wheel drive forever redefining the definition of butch.

I did have some dreadful experiences in the airports, and I was going to blog about it, but as I reviewed the notes I drafted at 24,000 feet I kinda figured some people may have a problem with 3 and half page paragraphs. We'll just save those for the book.

I picked up The Field and Clientele at Easy Street Records, but honestly it's Rule Britannia that is getting me through the day. But no lie, The Field deserves its place on all those "Best Of" lists of 2007. I tried to peak at the news and gossip of the world, but all I could really make out is that gloves are the new denim, and that hunting is the new couture. I certainly didn't need the internet to tell me that.