At Night, The Ice Weasels Come.
Friedrich Nietzsche: "The economy is a snowmobile racing across the tundra and then suddenly it flips over, pinning you underneath. At night, the ice weasels come."
Ok, Matt Groening only said Nietzsche said that, so we can't be 100% sure, even if Matt was a big fan of Walter Kaufman. But I'll take his word for it. And so what if I did change "love" to "the economy?" That was Nietzsche's inner meaning. If he had said it.
As some of you know, I hang with the Ice Weasels. Have for years. I'm neither proud, nor ashamed, of it. The Ice Weasels get smeared a lot, but I've found they're not much different than us regular weasels. Just, with white fur. And taller. Four foot, maybe. And I know all about their reputation for violence, but I think that's mostly a knee-jerk reaction to their teeth. Well, not so much teeth as... rotating, titanium-clad, scythes.
And yes, the papers are correct that they're smart, but they're NOT robots, or from the future, or any of that. It's a simple case of having evolved an opposable forebrain. It had to happen sometime, and if Dear Ole Gramma Nature threw it at the Ice Weasel & not us, well, who are we to whine?
The ecology of the Ice Weasel. For starters, yes, they eat economies. But calm down friends - it's an urban myth that they eat the people. They think of people the way you'd think of pack horses. We're the creatures who bring them supplies every Winter. They'd no more hurt you than a cowboy'd shoot a horse.
Once you understand their ecology, it's also quite clear that they eat economies not out of malice, but because it's their job. They're fulfilling their God-given role in the circle of life. As you've probably seen on the Science Channel, they spend their Springs in writhing sexual frolic. It can get confusing, even for them, being quadrasexual and all, but let's just say it gives the ole gene pool one hell of a mix. In Summertime, well, the living is easy. Fish and chips mostly. Bush planes fly in the chips, which is how I came to meet them in the first place. After a while, I guess I felt pretty much at home. (Especially in Spring.) But when Fall comes, they snap to attention & start planning. Because it takes time to prep for the Big Event, a migration whose magnificence soars above the Serengeti or the Okavango like Air Jordan over a fat kid from the 8th grade.
I speak, of course, of the American Economy, and its annual circumpolar trek - an incredible sight for those fortunate enough to witness it. The tundra, white with snow, leaping into color as the Economy arrives. Herds of pine-scented Winnebago, drivers leaning on their horns, challenging all those in their path... The three car garage, ranch-style, luxury homes, striding post & beam... The shining upturned faces of the 48" Panasonic plasmas... The endless stream of white goods (including my personal favorite, the floor-to-ceiling refrigerator, with sandwiches)... The electronic games, Gameboy & Playstation, trailing children, tethered close for safety... The trail of little blue, and red, and then lots more blue pharmaceuticals, dropped by their drooling - but surprisingly erect - owners... It's almost too much to take in, and certainly not in one viewing. This American Economic herd burns through $13 trillion on its journey, every year, and I can tell you, it's a kick ass parade.
The Ice Weasels play a very simple ecological role in relation to the Migration of the Economy. It's their job to slip past the guards, reach the laggards of the herd, and then... drag away the broken & the busted, the obsolete & outmoded, the dreary & despairing, the highly inefficient & the not too damned productive.
And most years, it has to be said, they do a damn fine job of it. Given a few months, they can pretty much hack, consume, process and, ummm... "recycle" their way through anything. I can understand how people would be frightened, seeing the wires torn viciously out of an old TV, Cathode Ray Tube imploding, its last sound that ghastly "thoomp," and then the whirring, white metal teeth of the Ice Weasel slicing through that tasteful wood veneer cabinetry.
The older Ice Weasels tell me things have changed since back in the day, when the usual meal was some trapper flipping his sled. Back then, the clean-up was pretty simple. You allow the dogs off after payment of a small ransom (a code that held fast, 'til the beginning of the Shitsu Era), tuck in your bib, and go at 'er. And after a 24 hour scour, you're good to go. About the worst problem you might face is having to pass a gold tooth later, or maybe the lads would get liquored up on 'MacEwan The Unshaven's' home brew & wanna go a few rounds. But all in all, pretty tidy work.
The old hands also say that while you used to be able to break down the economic failures with a minimum of effort, nowadays it takes planning. You need analytical chemistry capabilities, full sets of Spec Sheets, and a forecasting branch to go over the National Income & Product Accounts tables, just to get an idea of exactly how much shit you've gotta eat.
The problem seems to have been that, over time, the Economy became... transformed. What the Weasels used to happily greet - as meat - became a bit more of a chore. As one elderly Ice Weasel so eloquently put it, "$13 trillion buys you a lotta phthalate-impregnated 'Dalai Mountain Spring, Water Of The Ommm' bottles. Or take a product like the 'Lumonic-Hypertext Twyn Hys & Hers Tivo Sets' - that'll give the old forebrain a full flex-out. And let me tell you, to take down a 'Texan-Clad, New England-Style, Oaken Oasis, Luxury Wiffle-Built Home' on your own, well... you're gonna need that 5th ball to tackle one of those puppies."
And (contra Krugman), the Ice Weasels can be a surprisingly melancholy lot. While we tend to ignore their theatre, their film-making, and (grossly overlooked), their music, I believe this documentary short gives us an idea of just how deeply they mourn the passing of the Old Economy. By a pair of their Ice Artists known as "The Kills," I suggest you look past the (rather nonsensical) "human" costumes they've created, and listen, just listen, to the tenderness expressed in the lyrics:
What easy used to be
What love used to be
What drugs used to be
What TV used to be
What music used to be
What you used to be
What New York used to be
Difficulties to one side, the Ice Weasels remain committed to their task, their Mission. I know that in the future, and particularly after the carnage to come this Winter, they'll likely be regarded as Barbarous. Animalistic. In their defence, I only wish to say that from a long-term perspective, I believe the Ice Weasel contributes as much, if not more, to the health of our environment, and the growth of our economy, than any other species.
Environmentally, the tundra simply wouldn't be the tundra if it wasn't kept pristine & white. You can't have hundreds of billions of dollars worth of junk strewn around for the Caribou to trip over. Because believe me - and I don't wish to seem harsh here - but Caribou are dumb as posts. You ought to see 'em on a windy night, trying to start a fire with those old Bics they use. They're the Larry, Curly and Moo of the North, I swear.
But the Ice Weasel's annual clean-up is also essential if our economy is to prosper & grow. Their actions help it shed dead weight, leaving young muscle & tendon. The herd grows more efficient, 'til it's almost leaping up the value chain. Hmmmm, health metaphor... health metaphor. Ah! Think of it as an econo-colonic irrigation. A cleansing. Truthfully, you wouldn't really want to hang onto all that gunk, now would you?
These past 20 odd years, the rising tide of Crap-N-Crome has made the job of the Ice Weasel tougher. But this year, something new entirely appears to have occurred. Something which, while initially bringing joy to the Weasels, has ultimately produced in them a feeling of... dread.
Which is why I led this post with the words of the incomparable, the Prophet, he whom we will not mistake for someone else... Nietzsche. "The economy is a snowmobile racing across the tundra and then suddenly it flips over, pinning you underneath. At night, the ice weasels come." Again & as always, Right Said Fred has whacked the mole, when it popped outta its hole, eh?
You see, the Ice Weasel scouts have reported back that this year's migration is showing some unusual features. For instance, that the economy's traditional "guards" all appear to have... gone. In decades past, these guards were a formidable lot, arrayed under divisional flags & banners, formally-attired, beady eyes fixed on the horizon, red & black pens sharpened and at the ready, enunciating verse after verse of the "Perfectly Competitive General Equilibrium," with Los Chicago Boys Choir pumping up the volume during the chorus.
But this year? Well, after the initial celebration, the Ice Weasels have begun to... lament. They feel there is no honor in taking down the undefended, the indefensible. For the guards... are gone. Yes, certainly, in recent years they'd noticed that the attention of the banking & the brokerage brigades had begun to wander, the ranks of the regulators & the ratings agencies grown thin. But the front-line soldiers, the boots on the ground, continued to march at the Economy's side. The graveyard-dead eye, the automatonic twitch, the metronomic, side-to-side shaking of the lipless heads of the Accountancy profession told the marauding Ice Weasels all they needed to know. "You shall not pass." These stout defenders, the Accountants, drawn perhaps - as the myth stated - from the depths of Carpathia, or - and this, more greatly feared - spontaneously generated from the dank pits of Indiana. If an Ice Weasel managed to outwit this foe, then they'd earned their badge of Honor, deserved their share of Glory.
This year, nothing. Or almost nothing. Except for a disoriented rabble, running to and fro, shouting alarm, making vast claims, demanding tribute, dubbed by Lux the Ice Elder as... the TARPetbaggers. A mob which, on closer analysis, we came to believe were no threat to us. Indeed, they appear more as competitors, eerie, carnivorous - perhaps members of the once-powerful Guard, but now clearly gone cannibal.
Our scouts' careful fact-finding & intelligence-gathering built to an incontrovertible conclusion. That the bewildered herd, its protective bubble now punctured & vanished, its million bare flanks naked to the cold North wind, was... near collapse. I've read the original message which was Telezack7'ed back to BaseMind11ty, and can confirm that it consisted of one brief sentence. A sentence which could well, when history is written, stand as the epitaph of this Once Mightiest Economy, capturing as it does the initial Joy of the Ice Weasels, as they surveyed the soon to be devoured herd - "Surf & Turf, kids."
Harsh? Perhaps. A touch cruel even. But with such succulence spread on their own cold, white tablecloth, well, who's to say you yourself wouldn't have participated in an evening or two of Parimutuel Ice Pleasure upon its sighting? Not I. But joy was quickly followed by questions. Which grew into concerns. Which rose up into a great, looming, mountain of dread. The initial question itself had been simple. "Can we consume so much?" This led to a deeper debate, over whether the meal was a simple but filling 1% of the $13 trillion, or... more. And if so, how many more courses? 3%? 5%? 10%? More?! Until finally, alarm, then dread, as the scale of the task began to resolve itself.
Unbelievably, there were 3 million homes already downed, abandoned by their inhabitants, boarded in - a last, forlorn, hope against unflagging fate. And then, multiple sightings confirmed, of another 3 million coming, just over the horizon, their owners staggering under the weight. And all, requiring... processing.
The horror went on. Autos. 6 million lost already. By November. Aging, gigantic SUVees, paneled doors hanging open, empty, bleeding heavily from their tails. Food, clothing, travel on personal business - gone. College educations, jewelry, old games that'd have to do & the Wii be damned. Health care, meals formerly eaten outside the home, and the trip to Gramma's house - postponed. Insurance agents & online stockbrokers, billions worth. In fact, the entire personal business services sector. And the realtors... my God, the stench.
The math of an Economic Apocalypse is simple. It's just that ourselves, and the Ice Weasels, sit on opposite sides of the equation.
It's a Hard Sun. Run.
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Yeah, it's a Big Hard Sun, which may be why Indiana's pits are so dank-smelling.
But, ahhh.....the Spring.....
November 23, 2008 10:10 PM | Reply | Permalink
I figured Orlando might provide a list of some Accountants from Indiana she'd like to see slaughtered, but apparently not....
November 24, 2008 2:16 AM | Reply | Permalink
I'm making a list, but I'm checking it twice.
No do-overs in this game. But I'm questioning whether it's really furs vs. skins, or whether some of us can dabble double as walk-on ice weasels ourselves. I've got a frontal incisor mod kit I'm working on that shows real promise.
November 24, 2008 5:54 AM | Reply | Permalink
The New Economics: We're All Ice Weasels Now
November 24, 2008 5:56 AM | Reply | Permalink
My grandma was an accountant. Until the ice weasels got her. It's still too painful to talk about.
November 24, 2008 9:39 AM | Reply | Permalink
We remember her. About 6' 8," right? With an unusually long reach? Prone to savage, cojone-crushing kicks?
Yeah, we remember her alright.
Ole Jake The Nearly-Frigging-Dismembered, in particular. Still has a patch over the one eye. Says she jacked a corncob in through his helmet visor.
Hoping you're from the mellower side of the family. And apologies for any past unpleasantries.
Regards,
- The Ice Weasels.
November 24, 2008 6:34 PM | Reply | Permalink
Just because we're known as the armpit of the Midwest is no reason to be mean.
November 23, 2008 10:17 PM | Reply | Permalink
Truth is, I originally had the dank pits of Chicago... but then I already threw some abuse at them, so.... Indiana.
See? There's a downside to being their neighbor.....
November 23, 2008 10:21 PM | Reply | Permalink
Yeah. I'm in a suburb to the east. You're in a suburb to the north...being a neighbor is hard.
November 23, 2008 11:40 PM | Reply | Permalink
Where is the fire weasle?
November 23, 2008 10:17 PM | Reply | Permalink
He's there, and has an important role, but the Ice Weasels keep him in a bag most of the time. And only bring him out when the kindling gets wet.
You don't want to know that they do to him then.
November 24, 2008 1:55 AM | Reply | Permalink
Holy C**p!
take those sentences break em up and string em down the page and you got HOWL for a new generation!
"I have heard the sounds of a thousand Kelvinators snapping their doors in the icy wind
of the arctic plains...."
Quinn, You are the Beats born again!
Now Lux the ice elder will impart a secret.
"My children, you see WE were the Ice Weasels once and we ate our herd when its guardians the cash flow asset analysts died (we poured log-optimal theories in their ears whilst they slept, but our time is over! And those who eat us will take our place and so the great cycle of Log-Normal Stock Price migrations will continue into the future forever and ever, amen."
November 23, 2008 10:43 PM | Reply | Permalink
Dude, I am SO using that last paragraph. Donno how or where I'll manage to slip it in, but it's coming.....
Truth is, spent the day with my head in NIPA tables. (How sick is that?) And it was cold out, and one thing led to another... And you know how it is.
BTW. There's a Part 2. It starts with the Weasels evaluating Table 2.4.5.
I love that thing.
November 23, 2008 10:58 PM | Reply | Permalink
I didn't close down a parenthetical...oh well. Does that mean I have to accept delivery of the contract like Oxford did?
Look that table would put an expresso-maker to sleep! I notice flat growth in the funeral sector--we have to work on that. Planning to have myself stuffed of course, so no need to cut down a redwood or melt a lot of pot metal for my sake.....
Gotta retire early, tomorrow I am making a bid on Citi. The new auction rules are pretty loose: Zero assets, zero income, take the building--its yours. I'm bringing my baseball card collection my Marvel-Atlas Jack Kirby monster cover comics, and my 1966 Dodge Dart (its "classic" now) though just in case they tighten up and ask for something in return.
November 23, 2008 11:25 PM | Reply | Permalink
Well, to ME... the $16.2 Billion we spend on funerals each year is an interesting one. Run that $16.2B out over our average lifetimes, say 75 years, and you've got $1,200 Billion we're gonna spend on crap. A fair chunk of change, right?
So... what if we all signed a pledge to handle our remains in more sensible ways. I don't care if people wanna be stuffed, mounted, buried or burned... but just let's not throw so much cash at it. Imagine we could save... $700 Billion of that total. Now, we'd have to give up the fancy caskets, and all... but what if we put the funds in a Trust that:
- Built & staffed new KINDS of schools...
- Or hired kids to join Archaeological digs & once a year reported back on all they'd learned in some big TV special...
- Say we just shipped the extra money each year (around $9-$10 Billion a year) to just ONE country, right? As an example, that money would DOUBLE the annual income of the 62 million people in the Congo.
Think we could do without the caskets, to keep the Congolese out of them? I think so.
See? Another reason I like the NIPA tables.
November 23, 2008 11:53 PM | Reply | Permalink
Now I just feel bad that my first instinct was to pick the digs.
Ok, ok, send the money to the Congo.
November 24, 2008 12:08 AM | Reply | Permalink
Have you seen what they're doing with the money in the Congo?
November 24, 2008 6:10 AM | Reply | Permalink
Alright, ex-chimp... give us some suggestions on how to get money into the Congo, in ways that would help grow something positive, or even start by stabilizing things a little? Come across anything?
And I STILL think an Archaeological Service Corps for young people would be brilliant. So much I wish we knew more about. And I DO actually think an Annual TV Special, revealing all that had been learned, would be cool as hell.
In fact, screw the young people. Let's make it for the rocking chair brigade. We'd just need longer shafts on those little brushes, right?
November 24, 2008 5:12 PM | Reply | Permalink
I'm in.
But things like that are a really, really great idea that kills multiple birds with one stone: Add to our collective knowledge, cross new frontiers, provide experiences to a host of people who'd never have the chance otherwise, and what a great way of rethinking the traditional routes of education. More than the Ph.D door to professions. Love it.
November 24, 2008 10:10 PM | Reply | Permalink
A great tribute, Lux:
Once We Were Ice Weasels
At least we're finding the Poet Warriors within ourselves.
November 24, 2008 6:08 AM | Reply | Permalink
Thx, Desi! My bid for CITI fell through---the feds got there first.
At least I get to keep my comic collection.
November 24, 2008 8:05 AM | Reply | Permalink
Speaking of Poet Warriors, the Weasels used to chant from the pages of Joe Schumpeter. That "Gales of Creative Destruction" riff used to really get them going.
But now they're asking for someone more appropriate for the times.... Apparently, this year's model is leaving behind more deadwood than simple innovation would predict.
Suggestions from you and Des? Someone with some economic chops, but a bit more vision than your usual quant-drone?
November 24, 2008 5:08 PM | Reply | Permalink
I left my vision in my other suit. And then my wife gave that suit to Goodwill....
That's a serious question, I have to think about it (no, I don't mean Google it) I think there are a number of things that need to be done that are interlinked and an easy answer is going to fall short.
November 24, 2008 5:30 PM | Reply | Permalink
and for your information I am a QUANT DRONE!!!!
and proud of it, by gum.
November 24, 2008 5:33 PM | Reply | Permalink
LOL.
And the playground chant goes up, "Quant Drone... Quant Drone...." ;-)
November 24, 2008 6:22 PM | Reply | Permalink
I just hit those bullies with one of my old "beta books".
Down for the count! The power of numeracy!!
November 24, 2008 6:47 PM | Reply | Permalink
Heck I'd follow you again if I weren't already following you!
November 23, 2008 10:46 PM | Reply | Permalink
Opposable forebrain, rotating, titanium-clad scythes for canines, and quadrasexual... We never really stood a chance. Outstanding post!
November 24, 2008 2:55 AM | Reply | Permalink
Personally, I think our best chance is to rapidly imitate, then innovate 'til we regain our competitive advantage. I may not have an opposable forebrain, but for years I've had this impossible-to-melt midriff, which - it turns out - isn't body fat at all, but additional neo-cortex. And now that Doc Finkelstein has repaired & upgraded my canines (both inner & outer sets), I'm feeling sufficiently augmented in that category now too.
The quadrasexual part could be tricky, but I got one of those 1001 positions books, and as long as I stay out of hospital, I think I can compete.
Which leaves the question... what do we need to add to get one step AHEAD of these guys. You know, innovate & add value. I was hoping "Innovative Financial Instruments" would sustain our edge, but that seems to have lost some popularity lately. Ideas?
November 24, 2008 5:19 PM | Reply | Permalink
Good news regarding the 'additional neocortex' incubating south of the sternum. Can't afford to have mine checked due to cutbacks in the old healthcare policy. Once again les Canadiens prove their superiority in dealing mit de ice weasels via universal healthcare.
We could try eyes in the back of our heads, ( http://www.telegraph.co.uk/scienceandtechnology/3341146/The-girl-with-eyes-in-the-back-of-her-head.html ). "The hope is that human cyborgs may one day enter new sensory domains to know what it really feels like for a shark to encounter a school of fish, or for a bat to be trapped in a belfry." Now you sound like you may have the shark thing all ready going wit your double set of teeth, and I have some bats currently ensconced in my belfry, so we may be just where we want to be, (hopefully not like McCain had BHO right where he wanted him!).
Question: What does it really feel like to be a ice weasel? With this technology we may gain some insights to help preserve some of the stragglers, "so the great cycle of Log-Normal Stock Price migrations will continue into the future forever and ever".
November 24, 2008 6:56 PM | Reply | Permalink
Thanks for that link. Couple of months back, read The Brain That Changes Itself by Norman Doidge. Quite loved it. Had lot on those experiments by Bach-y-Rita. Cool.
What do the Ice Weasels feel? Well... Although their business cards read "Recyclers," I tend to believe the average Ice Weasel takes more pleasure in its work than the average dude sorting ceramic-topped beer bottles out of the glass stream at your local MRF. Imagine, if you will, pure blood-lust combined with ice-water in the veins... Imagine the inhuman level of clinical precision possessed by an eye surgeon combined with a flesh-rending, naked, blue-painted berserker in full rampage.... Imagine... Dick Cheney. Yeah, it's like that, I suspect.
Or playing hockey. Same diff.
November 24, 2008 8:05 PM | Reply | Permalink
: )
November 24, 2008 8:29 PM | Reply | Permalink
Great post and powerful imagery, Quinn. Two questions: given "titanium-clad scythes for canines.." may we assume your days at the dentist are done? And are you implying that in the cold days ahead, fur is not only p.c., but advisable?
November 24, 2008 9:10 AM | Reply | Permalink
I am, in fact, praying that I have seen the last of Doctor Finkelstein & his trusty Special Assistant Ilsa. Seriously, I had 4 extended sessions with the guy, each time with CNN on overhead, and each time, the Dow crashing wildly. So the Fink - once he discovered I worked in economic-related ventures - was plying me with investment-related questions, me frozen solid right up to the eye socket. Amusing now, not entirely enjoyable at the time. But yes, that's (happily) all in the past...!
And fur? Absolutely. But get supplies laid in for the spare room as well. As the waves of unemployment spread our more widely, I think most of our families are going to find that while we ourselves might be above the waterline, that at least some family members may not be so lucky. People forget that that's a key practical impact of downturns. That when people lose work, and income, they have to cut costs. And the single largest cost is housing. Which means... families (and friends) that can take care of each other - while maintaining their sanity & grace - turn out to be more important in life than we'd ever imagined. Beyond the growing vegetables, it's how many of us have roofs & rooms that we're able to share that will determine how well many get through this.
And of course, throwing an old fur coat in on the chair in the spare room would also be a nice touch! ;-)
November 24, 2008 5:04 PM | Reply | Permalink
It's true what Lux the Elder said - you are the new Ginsberg (quinnsberg?)! But admit it, you unfurled that whole wonderland of words just as a vehicle for 'TARPetbagger'.
November 24, 2008 1:29 PM | Reply | Permalink
ps - send me some of those peyote buttons : : :
November 24, 2008 1:32 PM | Reply | Permalink
I figured if Lux could riff TARPetbagger, and if Des can be Doctor Demento twice daily, then surely no harm if I loose the Ice Weasels on the wider world. Truth is, they were created for my nieces & nephews, and have rather taken on a life of their own. Interesting characters, well-suited to a land of ice & snow.
The dogs always get a little nervous when they're around though. ;-)
November 24, 2008 4:34 PM | Reply | Permalink
Brings back fond memories of the pine weasel, resident of the parts around Twin Peaks.
November 24, 2008 4:45 PM | Reply | Permalink
In Xanadu did Kubla Khan, a stately pleasure dome decree...
Mortgage rates were lower then.
November 24, 2008 2:13 PM | Reply | Permalink
Great line.
And I LOVE that poem. Years ago, when I dabbled in poetry, I used to keep a pad by my bed, to scratch dream images down if I awoke. Never came up with anything near Kubla, but what was interesting was how often - in my dreams - the SOUNDS of words were more important than the sense. I'd only remember fragments, but I realized that - at some level - images & sounds were "in play" just as much as facts & figures. I suspect that some of the same happens here, cross-wiring dreamworld stuff over to my daily economics/energy/environment hacking.
One fragment from those years, as an example:
The lips that wore
the suffering off
were cut
from a far deeper memory
than mine.
Who knows where that stuff comes from... or why a mind plays like that when there's no one awake at the wheel... but the f's and the m's just purred through my mind, and it seemed to be doing it just for the sheer enjoyment.
November 24, 2008 4:42 PM | Reply | Permalink
Man, that made ME light up my lava lamp and stare at those little glob things. Put a Quicksilver platter on the turntable and recite Quinnsberg. "Groovin on a Monday afternoon.."
November 24, 2008 5:19 PM | Reply | Permalink
Those little glob thingies... Do you ever find that they... Speak to you?...
Not saying I've ever experienced that of course, but just... askin'.
Do they?
November 24, 2008 6:24 PM | Reply | Permalink
no, its more like GSL.
Glob Sign Language.
November 24, 2008 6:37 PM | Reply | Permalink
Dude, that was beautiful...
* sniff, wipes away a tear *
I even dug out my headphones to listen to the music.
November 24, 2008 3:15 PM | Reply | Permalink
Thank you, Father.
The Kills are a strange little band. Enormous pose there, but they're not shy - takes cojones to throw your pose over the Velvets & Lou. And they've got some tunes worth checking.
That last video kinda moved me - Hard Sun - both the song (Eddie Vedder doing an old Indio tune, I believe) & the vid. For my friends, most in their 40's, that sense of the journey, and of things looking rugged, has resonated increasingly these past months. I was never a bit Vedder fan, but this song, and the video, keeps popping onto my playlist.
('Course, it could just be that the Weasels are mucking with my iPod. Bastards. Warned 'em not to put their filthy paws on it. Not like they won't be "harvesting" enough of them this Christmas.)
November 24, 2008 4:49 PM | Reply | Permalink
I have no idea what just happened but I'm fairly certain that it was awesome.
November 24, 2008 5:17 PM | Reply | Permalink
I find at this point in the experience, it really adds to the enjoyment if you have a smoke.
Marlboro?
November 24, 2008 6:26 PM | Reply | Permalink
I feel a little queasy myself....Got any dramamine on you?
November 24, 2008 6:59 PM | Reply | Permalink
Yep. That's the Perplexment. See? Gets 'em every time.
November 24, 2008 10:13 PM | Reply | Permalink
Great post. If I may repay the compliment, I always enjoy your writing as well and likewise see it getting even better over time. A mite long though.
November 24, 2008 6:00 PM | Reply | Permalink
Long? Psh.
November 24, 2008 10:14 PM | Reply | Permalink
Quinn, I loved this! Specially the start where you read Nietzsche through Groening. LOVE IT!!
The rest is fab too, you really are getting better. I like the way you tell these stories, nested withing other metaphors and other stories. Still, I think you have been reading this book, like, waay too much. Time for you, Quinnesque, to watch Sin City again and drool over Rosario Dawson. Seriously. ;)
November 24, 2008 6:54 PM | Reply | Permalink
Haven't read it. Looks great. So is it funny, as in Robbins-Stephenson-Ruff, or just... brutal? Matt Ruff's Sewer, Gas & Electric. Ever check it? Here's part of the blurb:
The year is 2023, and Ayn Rand has been resurrected & bottled in a hurricane lamp to serve as Joan's assistant; an eco-terrorist named Philo Dufrense travels in a pink-and-green submarine designed by Howard Hughes; a Volkswagen Beetle is possessed by the spirit of Abbie Hoffman; Meisterbrau, a mutant great white shark, is running loose in the sewers beneath Times Square; and a one-armed 181-year-old Civil War veteran joins Joan and Ayn in their quest for the truth. All of whom, and many more besides, are caught up in a vast conspiracy involving Walt Disney, J. Edgar Hoover, and a mob of homicidal robots.
Now THAT'S a book!
November 24, 2008 7:34 PM | Reply | Permalink
Loved Miller's Dark Knight. But I think I'd want my Ice Weasels around when entering certain neighborhoods of Sin City. ;-)
November 25, 2008 1:00 AM | Reply | Permalink
This is great. Seemed to remind me of parts of Kurt Vonnegut's Cat's Cradle. "No damn cat, no damn cradle"
November 24, 2008 8:14 PM | Reply | Permalink
I read so much Vonnegut over the years, that I probably rip him off every other sentence.
"If I should ever die, God forbid, let this be my epitaph:
'The only proof he needed
For the existence of God was music.'
- Kurt Vonnegut
Perhaps we'll all get to meet Kurt sometime, but til then, I'm happy with some music, down here, Pacing The Cage. ;-)
November 24, 2008 8:36 PM | Reply | Permalink
Oh, Vonnegut. That was a sad day for me. And I was so pissed at the idiots eulogizing him as a science fiction writer. Did they ever freakin read him?
Why don't the kids in schools these days ever read Vonnegut?
Only in this past year did I finally figure out why I like him so much. He writes like I think.
November 24, 2008 10:16 PM | Reply | Permalink
I've been buds - probably best buds - with 6 other guys since back around '89. We get together every year, and e-mail every day. We call our re-unions "Doomed To Collide" - a riff from Kurt. Probably because we just kept running into each other, thinking the same things & sending them to each other, crossing in the ether. For all of us, his death was a terrible day.
But here's another example of why Kurt was great. When I went looking for the full Doomed quote, the page I landed on also had a great bit he did on Pirates. (And teachers!) Pirates being the very thing that Lux was poking at with a stick the other day. Somehow, the image of Pirates waves in the back of our minds, and Lux took it out toward the idea of them buying Citigroup; spinning themselves as actually being the "Coastguard"; and then landing in & taking over San Francisco.
Here's Kurt, Breakfast of Champions, 1973:
"1492. The teachers told the children that this was when their continent was discovered by human beings. Actually, millions of human beings were already living full & imaginative lives on the continent in 1492. That was simply the year in which sea pirates began to cheat and rob and kill them."
"Here was another piece of evil nonsense which children were taught: that the sea pirates eventually created a government which became a beacon of freedom to human beings everywhere else. There were pictures and statues of this supposed imaginary beacon for children to see. It was sort of an ice-cream cone on fire."
"Actually, the sea pirates who had the most to do with the creation of the new government owned human slaves...."
So if you think the way he writes.... you're in a damned fine place, I'd say. Perplexment PLUS! ;-)
November 24, 2008 10:44 PM | Reply | Permalink
;)
His brilliance is that he can write that way. This unconstrained, tangential, racing train of thought that all makes sense. You knew 2 pages in, you'd follow him wherever it went. He knew how to harness that somehow, in a way that few can.
I haven't read Breakfast of Champions, but it's on my to do list now.
November 24, 2008 11:41 PM | Reply | Permalink
.... its gotta be all that bad boy stuff I took years ago now coming back and making me write about pirates lava lamps and credit default swaps!
Can't take credit for something not mine: the citibank/pirate thing was somebody else's idea: I just replayed it so everybody could get a little comic relief, I ran my own riff on it with the SF idea....
have to get this stuff right for the record
November 24, 2008 11:45 PM | Reply | Permalink
If you speak the Vonnegut, then you probably know this one:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yfoLDtn4XKM
Don't know who did the video, but Vonnegut approved the message...
November 25, 2008 12:36 PM | Reply | Permalink
Nice device.
Nice, nice, very nice.
November 25, 2008 1:13 PM | Reply | Permalink