RIP: Leslie Nielson

The genius behind Frank Drebin will be missed. Rest in peace, good sir.

A Bridge Too Far: Humor and Resilience in the Face of Adversity

The Year of Living Dangerously (1982)

"All is clouded by desire." -Bhagavad Gita

Funny Friday: Birdie Num Num (Peter Sellers from The Party)

00Poker

Funny Friday: Too Many Dicks on the Dance Floor (Flight of the Conchords)

Never overlook the importance of "lady space."

Timeless Rebel

The Temper Trap: Fader (live)

This past weekend, I joined two friends on a boondoggle to Memphis. Although inspired by nothing more than the urge for a random break in the routine, I managed to lose my dignity, among other things, and broke a few personal rules, but otherwise, I had a flippin' blast. Funny how that happens. Memphis, uniquely manages to suck and possess a relaxed charm about it.  Anyhow, I randomly came across this song from The Temper Trap while prowling the streets of Memphis. As much as I hate to admit it, it is kind of catchy and may have some staying power.

Echo and The Bunnymen: Never Stop (live)

I've been in an especially retro state of mind these past few weeks. I have deluged with great local music since I moved back to Nashville, however, my roommate has a Crosley Stack-o-matic record player, along with kicking collection of vinyl. Our move-in was defined by blasting The Police, Blondie, and Duran Duran ad naseum. I've also been nostalgic for the way music was. This is just a rocking example of the innovative sounds that distinguishes Echo and The Bunnymen from the herd. Not to hate on Coldplay, but they ain't got nothing on these guys. Enjoy!

El Lonely Blog

Contrary to some opinion, the werewolf isn't dead, he's just been dormant. This blog hasn't been struck by silver bullet yet. Life comes at you fast sometimes. The past several weeks have been operating at Formula One speeds. Now life is more normal. It feels like I am driving on the 405 dodging uninsured Mexicans and distracted mothers in their bagged up SUVs.

I have been a bad blogger. It makes feel like a deadbeat dad who skips his child support payments. Not really.  

Things have settled somewhat in Nashville, I finally have a stable internet connect at my casa, along with a washer-dryer. Being sans washer-dryer was more trying than I ever reckoned it would be. Sometimes the oddest conveniences make all of the difference.

Anyhow, I've missed a few full moons, but this werewolf is back and on the prowl.  Aaaahhhh Wooooo!!!

The Werewolf's Exile Has Been Struck by a Silver Bullet: Relocated to Nashville

The werewolf's silence these past few weeks has been on account of his recent relocation to Nashville to pursue an exciting career opportunity. For those few readers out there, the werewolf regrets to inform you that he hasn't really been struck dead by a silver bullet or slain by a long lost descendant of Abraham Van Helsing. However, the period of official exile from the real world has ended. In many ways, the werewolf will always be a willing exile from the mainstream and popular culture, but at least he can now manage exile on his terms. This blog is far from being silenced, yet, for the next few weeks, posting may be a tad sparse. Cheers!

The Police: So Lonley (Live)

The Police went terribly wrong somewhere in the mid-80s. However, the werewolf is convinced that they were at their best during the nascent stages of their career. "So Lonely" is one of their best songs that probably gets eclipsed by the drek that defines the peak of their career. Still, this clip confirms that this trio knew how to rock it to the top. Big time!

Itemized IRS Tax Receipts: Keeping Citizens Aware and Government Measurably Accoutnable

Several prominent bloggers have been debating the virtues of what the theoretical itemized IRS tax receipt would look like if issued to normal citizens. It's the least we should expect as active tax-paying participants in this semi-functional exercise in representative democracy. See above for an example. This theoretical receipt is a tad appalling when dissected. As a young taxpayer, this awakens my inner slasher. All I do is see numbers that need to be cut. Our forefathers partially went to war over taxes on commodities, one wonders when our inner common-sense will be enraged by the bloat and obtuseness suggested by such a document and incited to rightoeus action. It is clear that my generation and younger is being thoroughly sodomized by the entitlement happy folks of my parents and grand-parents generations. I'll be lucky to see a dented nickel when it comes time for me to collect any social security.

I want more transparency and accountability in government and part of me would thoroughly love to be informed to how my hard-earned money was allocated. However, given generations of behaving like ostriches, with our collective heads in the sand, seeing such a document and understanding how deep our governmental spending rot truly is, such a document may actually push to depress me to the point of apathetic disengagement. At this stage, does self-medicating to point of willful ignorance present a preferred outcome to civic engagement that is bound to disappoint? Just some food for thought.

Funny Friday: Dumb and Dumber Clip

Lloyd Christmas may be Jim Carrey's most memorable big-screen character.

The English Beat: Mirror in the Bathroom (Studio)

Justice

Funny Friday: Monty Python "The Ballad of Sir Robin"

Cover vs. Original: Chris Isaak/H.I.M. "Wicked Game"

The contrast between these two versions couldn't be more yin and yang. Chris Isaak, replete with eerie guitar riffs, haunting vocals, and a mellow pace, carved out a worthy niche for himself with this early 90s rock classic. Like sipping a nice scotch, his song is smooth, yet jilting. Always appropriate for a week-in-review wind-down on a chilly autumnal Sunday.

Scandinavian hard-rock maestros, H.I.M(His Infernal Majesty), were inspired by Isaak's ingredients for smooth and creepy, and reshaped the song with a serious injection of anger and excitement. It was during a particularly hard-hitting spin class back Atlanta when the werewolf first heard this song. It has forever been branded one of the great adrenaline inducing songs to load onto your iPod for an effective visit to the gym. Almost disqualified from any recreational listening on this account, H.I.M. gets massive credit for boldly taking a classic and moving into a an entirely new sphere of  existence. 

Building Rhodes: The Cape-to-Cairo Vision

Silly Saturday: Inspector Clouseau

Sorry. I was out of pocket and incommunicado yesterday. Hence, Funny Friday is Silly Saturday this week. Peter Sellers command of various European accents and mannerisms is a genius nearly unrivaled. This scene never gets old. Enjoy. 

Gulf May Avoid Direst Predictions After Oil Spill

The usually sensationalistic and doom-and-gloom NY Times has an interesting article speaking to the diminishing impact of the gulf oil spill. 

"Yet as the weeks pass, evidence is increasing that through a combination of luck (a fortunate shift in ocean currents that kept much of the oil away from shore) and ecological circumstance (the relatively warm waters that increased the breakdown rate of the oil), the gulf region appears to have escaped the direst predictions of the spring.
While its findings were disputed by some, the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration reported several weeks ago that the oil was breaking down and dispersing rapidly, probably limiting future damage from the spill.
And preliminary reports from scientists studying the effects on marshes, wildlife and the gulf itself suggest that the damage already done by the spill may also be significantly less than was feared — less, in fact, than the destruction from the much smaller Exxon Valdez spill in Alaska in 1989."

Why do we frequently assume the worst of things? During the weeks following the Deepwater Horizon spill in the Gulf of Mexico, you'd think we were on the edge of some sort of apocalypse. The event was tragic and there is no question that damage was done on several levels to a variety of stakeholders. It wasn't a pretty picture. But nothing seems to have permanently ruined the gulf and life seems to re-asserting a degree of normalcy.

This past June, the werewolf was visiting his mother's sister and her family in Los Angeles. Despite being a wonderful lady in many regards, the werewolf's aunt is ever-fearful of the world and blinded by the goggles of myopic liberalism. During drinks around her table, she said the topic of the gulf oil was spill was too upsetting to her and her teenage son, who will live a world that the treacherous oil companies are destroying. She huffed, puffed, and launched into a incoherent screed blaming  President Bush and bemoaning the scale of destruction, than forbade further discussion of the topic. Last spring, this blog assumed that spill would have a ripple effect across multiple segments of the economy and that the ugliest legacy would be in reactionary legislation. However, nothing on either scale has come to pass.

Is life generally so good that we need to manifest our fears through these sensationalistic tragedies? Is it the only outlet the hard-wired memories of how tough life was for our forefathers, where mortality was brutal, food was scarce, and everything a cause for fear, to have a collective freak-out every-time something goes amiss? Has life become so decadent with increased life spans, easy food, cheap cloths, solid shelters, and easy access to basic health-care that we have lost all sense of scale and proportion to what a tragedy really conveys?  Are we psychologically ruined by the 24 news cycle and it's intrinsically pessimistic coverage style?  A dozen potential concepts surface when given thought, but still, humans and the earth are resilient and tough. We need to collectively grow some balls and worry about the really scary crap out and applying some common-sense to reinforcing society's social institutions. Here's to looking on the bright-side.

AC/DC: Rock N' Roll Train (Studio)

Formulaic, hard-hitting, loud, and very compelling all aptly capture this gem from AC/DC's Black Ice album. Head-bopping is a must. It's the humble and consistent execution of simple genius like this that keeps AC/DC on top of their game during these twilight years.

Castrating a Great Brand: Land Rover Gets Lost In India

According the the folks over at AutoblogGreen, Land Rover's new Indian ownership, the Tata Conglomerate, has no idea how to handle the luxury automotive marquee they've added to their stable of car companies. Tata, in a fit of true boobery, plans to re-invent Land Rover as the new green machine. This has "retarded" graffiti-ed all over it. The only thing that should be green about a Land Rover is the classic English green-paint heavily associated with the brand's heritage and the hope that someone can figure out how to turn the company profitable. Land Rover's are about taming, traversing, and conquering exotic and hazardous environments with class, elegance, and English sophistication. Nowhere does this brand even remotely align with the meek and faux-sensitivity hyped by urban-dwelling effete liberals who pride themselves on pretending to care by over-paying for a crappy car to impress their shallow friends outside the yoga studio. The Japanese have already gifted the American consumer with the Toyota Prius, Honda Insight, and forthcoming Nissan Leaf. The American tax-payer is picking up the bill for the doomed Chevrolet Volt on this front. Cutting costs, improving efficiencies, and leveraging technology can all be smart and strategic business moves, if executed in the proper context. However, turning a brand upside down and negating its heritage is a messy way of committing business seppuku. Is Tata looking to build a successful car business or just ruin a great British brand?

The irony was not lost of the werewolf, when the former colonial subjects acquired two jewels of the British automotive industry. However, the double-irony truly rests in the fact that Britain's alpha colonial progeny, the United States, punted Jaguar and Land Rover to the more backwards and confused colonial offspring in India. Land Rover and Jaguar's have been dregs for years, not on account of style or design, but on account of crappy reliability ratings. The answer is so simple, if Tata, or any automotive giant was serious about re-igniting these brands, just building a car that works on a regular basis would do wonders. Somehow, that simple message seems to be lost on everyone who ends up owning these brands. It looks like Land Rover and Jaguar will end like the British Empire, with a weak yelp, as opposed to a glorious roar.

In Memoriam

Funny Friday: IN THE FACE

This kind of retardation takes effort. Wow.

The Psychedelic Furs: Love My Way (Studio)

Spiked Milkshakes, making a come back.

The world we live in may be going to hell-in-a-hand-basket, our nation is poorly led and on the road to perpetual indebtedness, Islamo-Fascism still plagues our security paradigm, Paris Hilton is a coke-head, but it looks like gourmet spike milk shakes will help ease the collective journey down to Hades' realm. Celebrating the small stuff makes it all a tad more tolerable. According to this piece from the NY Times online,which is exploring this emergent adult milk shake trend,

"Where the original fusion boom of the 1980s had chefs ransacking Asia, now the place to find inspiration is over on the kids’ menu. Ice cream. Plus liquor. Together. In a big glass. Could there be a better emblem of the sort of juvenilia-with-a-wink that defines the current food aesthetic?"

"As anyone who has survived a frozen mudslide could tell you, the spiked shake is anything but a new idea. But it seems to be experiencing a sudden uptick in ubiquity, respectability and, here and there, craftsmanship."

Updated culinary nostalgia is a legitimate and acceptable escape hatch. While most chicks may eventually wear such indulgent drinks on their buttocks and thighs, getting occasionally loaded on a few old-school milkshakes  could be an incredibly liberating way to recapture reckless innocence of my early teenage years spent haunting Johnny Rocket's on Melrose and Ed Debevics on La Cienaga in the Los Angeles that defined my youth.  Indulgent ice-cream, whole milk, some egg yolks, and a nice smooth hit a bourbon sounds like a perfect concoction and meal-substitute.

The questions remains, will the mixologitsts are gourmands find a way to eventually include bacon in the mix? There rests the real challenge.

The Rolling Stones: Can't You Hear Me Knocking (Studio)

This song has an epic opening and some incredibly fun lyrics. When fired up on the home stereo system, to compliment a few stiff cocktails, it is usually indicative of some fun unpredictable gallivanting to come. It is also one of those classically reliable juke-box songs that can re-invigorate the room in the dive-bar you invariably find yourself ensconced in.

The official lyrics of the opening are

Yeah, you got satin shoes
Yeah, you got plastic boots
Y'all got cocaine eyes
Yeah, you got speed-freak jive   

"Speed-freak jive".... inspirationally suggestive of something lascivious. However, I always thought the second line said "nasty boots..."

Unions Have No Shame

Nothing would inspire the werewolf to indefinitely forsake professional car-washes more quickly than to learn that they have been unionized. If the macro-circumstances weren't so pathetic, this NY Times article on the steel workers' union attempt to strong arm the dudes that wipe down your car into a union would be somewhat funny. However, it isn't funny and it is freakin' disgraceful. First of all, the fact that the steel workers are out there footing the bill to try and agitate the mostly illegal Mexicans workers who are the backbone of LA's car-washer workforce show how desperate and fakakta the unions have become. This is nothing more than a racketeering attempt to squeeze struggling small business owners.

The national unemployment rate is cresting 10%, consumers are afraid to spend, employers are terrified to invest capital in hiring, and the American public has the overall confidence of an awkward pubescent dweeb at his 8th grade sock hop. How out of touch can the unions really be? These guys have out-lived their structural usefulness in an era of heightened consumer awareness and expectations, and via their greed have clearly demonstrated that they are impediments to American recovery.

One car-wash operator states the obvious ramifications in the article.

"Mr. Crestall said the unionization push would hurt everyone. “Having a union will mean higher wages, and that will lead to higher prices,” he said. “That will mean fewer consumers coming to carwashes, and fewer jobs for these workers.”

This lame micro-push is just a regional symptom of larger flaws in our governance structure and understanding of how leverage markets to betterment of all participants. Who knows if this push will succeed or not, but believe me you, this wolf's wheels will never be touched by a union member. (This acknowledges that his wheels were born of union hands, but that was beyond my control.)

The irony will be when the proponents of real corporate social responsibility (CSR) understand how adversely unions impact cost and operating structures, and ditch de-couple themselves from out-dated left-wing ideology for the potential third-way benefits that the concept of CSR can offer.

Echo & The Bunnymen: Killing Moon (Live)

Few songs are as beautifully eerie.

Reconsidering "Quantum of Solace": Jack White & Alicia Keys "Another Way To Die"

I spent the last several weeks working through all of the Bond films in chronological order. It made for a great time and I reckon' that some enterprising film professor could construct a class around that theme given all of the advances in technology, script evolution, and social attitudes that are well captured in each of the films. However, designing a course that cool and stimulating would be asking too much from modern higher education methinks.

Bond reels, regardless of overall quality, bring different redeeming assets to the table. Some have incredible opening sequences or title tracks, some have plots that are halfway worthy. Most have a decent sense of style. However, that is the subject of another screed.

It's funny what stays constant and what evolves as time marches on. Sean Connery still reigns supreme, while Roger Moore, with a handful exceptions, becomes almost unwatchable. Although it is well known in most circles, there is little doubt that Daniel Craig is nipping at Connery's heels for top dog in the Bond pantheon. Yet, since Connery set the stage and standard so well, toppling him from his perch will be near impossible, even for a man who executes the role with as much grit and talent as Craig.   When I was a whelp, I used to love the Roger Moore films, especially Moonraker and The Spy Who Loved Me. The defect in that judgement can be chalked up to the ignorance of unrefined youth and an obtuse obsession with space lasers and a Lotus that transforms into an attack submarine. Now it is challenging to sit through those films without to aid of some bourbon or gin. The acting is non-existent, and the plots ans writing are thinner than low-grade toilet paper. Lazenby benefits from a one of the best Bond babes, Diana Rigg, and Dalton and Brosnan get passable grades for their respective contributions, although Brosnan's film felt like video games at times towards the end of their implementation.

Casino Royale changed my whole understanding of the Bond universe and re-ignited my passion for the series in ways that even surprised me. Initially, I didn't like Quantum of Solace on account of its frenetic action sequences, which can induce an epileptic fit, if watched with too much focus. However, upon a second reviewing, Quantum really has a great plot (for the most part), and builds substantially off of the expectations established by Casino Royale. Having been introduced to a new global force, "Quantum" and leaving the sub-plot of Mr. White open, the audience is excellently ingrained into a compelling story arc. Sadly, MGM bankruptcy leaves the future of the franchise and its production schedule in doubt.

All that being stated, Alicia Keys and Jack White do a decent job with the title track, "Another Way To Die." Strong, innovative, and appropriate, it isn't the best Bond title song, yet, it gets better with each listening.

Nifty New Cooking/Foodie Blog "La Petite Bouche"

For all you epicureans out there, the blogosphere birthed a new blog late last month that is certainly worth your time. I highly recommend you all drop by La Petite Bouche. Sadly, this confirmed bachelor hasn't a speck of culinary talent beyond mixing a smooth, liver-eroding Old Fashioned, and grilling a decent pedestrian steak. Sometimes we have to live vicariously through the talents and gifts of others. The question begs, will La Petite Bouche cater my next party? Kudos on launching the blog and sharing your wonderful cooking gift with us all.

Funny Friday: Caddyshack Clip "Country Club Etiquette"

It Sucks to be to you, Gordon Brown.

According to Bloomberg, former Labour PM, Tony Blair, has declared support for current Tory PM David Cameron's economic reform platform in his newest book, "A Journey." As the white night of the "New Labour" movement back in the day, this is an interesting pivot for Mr. Blair and will likely serve as a catalyst to move some volume of his book off the shelves this month. Personally, the werewolf is a Thatcherite at heart when it comes to British politics, although, I came of age politically in the era of Blair. Despite some misgivings about his feel-good brand of reformed Labour, he is slick, smooth, and well-heeled. That counts for something in this age of lowered expectations. That being said,what's really really amusing in the article is Mr. Blair's attitude toward his former ally, the drab and dull Gordon Brown.. Blair states it bluntly in this passage.

“I had a feeling that my going and being succeeded by Gordon was also terminal for the government,” Blair wrote. “I discovered there was a lacuna -- not the wrong instinct, but no instinct at the human, gut level. Political calculation, yes. Political feelings, no. Analytical intelligence, absolutely. Emotional intelligence, zero. Gordon is a strange guy.”

"Strange guy" seems to be gentle code for prune juice induced flatulence in human form. Using clinical terms like terminal, is evocative of unwanted lumps and heinous medical conditions. Classic move from the team Blair in effectively knee-capping Gordon Brown on one more level. The eternally boring and prickly Brown will likely retort in his forthcoming memoir. His words, or lack of ability to embrace the subtle and smoothness of his rival, will likely vindicate Blair.

There is no doubt that Gordon Brown is the prima dona of failed British politicians and douche bag extraordinaire, but having completely alienated your own party and the left-wing Liberal-Democrats is no small fait accompli. Wow.

Shockingly Stupid: UK and France Considering Joint Custody of an Aircraft Carrier

Brace yourself for a new level of national stupidity and the planned erosion of national sovereignty from old Europe. According to this article from The Sun, planners in both the British and French defense ministries are considering plans to start sharing aircraft carriers. Short of arranging for weekend rotations of nuclear warheads, this joint custody of a front-line defense asset may be one of the stupidest cost-saving measures ever proposed. Reading it made me wonder if the world would be a more sensible place if I self lobotomized. This speaks to the tragic consequences of having an out-of-control entitlement state, where subsidizing unions, unreal benefits, and universal health-care plans, distort of the most important imperative of the state, the stewardship of national sovereignty.

If history is any lesson, this plan demonstrates a sheer ignorance of competing national interests and priorities. The French and British have very different global commerce and trade objectives. The two countries spent several centuries waring, and have only been de facto allies (tenuous one's at best), for spurts during the last century. The two have different linguistic, cultural, legal, and military heritages to contend with, on top of frequently shifting and changing short-term national objectives. This initial thoughts reflect the tip of the iceberg.  Hence, this plan must be a Europhile's and EU boosters wet-dream come true on paper as it strips down national identity, sovereign interests, well promoting a flacid European military command, and an excuse to further expand upon a bankrupt and unsustainable entitlement focused E.U.

With an erosion of external defense credibility, an internal rot can set in and seriously undermine the state and its ethos. Needless to say, a grim picture just got uglier. 

Frankly, I wrote off most of Europe years ago. It is just that these overt examples of retardation should be lessons to those paying attention on this side of the Atlantic.

If we in this hemisphere continue down this ridiculous path we have stupidly set ourselves on with out-of-control state-growth, will we start pooling our resources with the floating jalopies of the Mexican navy to save a few nickels to keep the stooges in the unions and AARP happy?

Joy Division: New Dawn Fades

Progressives Against Progress

During my daily news and article round-up, I came across an excellent piece titled "Progressives Against Progress" in City Journal by Fred Siegel. It builds upon some interesting observation foundations of the transmutation of modern liberalism, as well as flaws in how the modern vernacular no longer adequately captures the true meaning behind certain labels when one deep-dives into how they evolved in the modern world. More importantly, it explores the inherent tension that should exist between a theoretically "humanist" liberal movement and the histrionically "anti-human" nature of the environmentalism. Here is a passage to whet your appetite...

"In his 1973 book The Death of Progress, Bernard James laid out an argument already popularized in such bestsellers as Charles Reich’s The Greening of America and William Irwin Thompson’s At the Edge of History. “Progress seems to have become a lethal idée fixe, irreversibly destroying the very planet it depends upon to survive,” wrote James. Like Reich, James criticized both the “George Babbitt” and “John Dewey” versions of “progress culture”—that is, visions of progress based on rising material attainment or on educational opportunities and upward mobility. “Progress ideology,” he insisted, “whether preached by New Deal Liberals, conservative Western industrialists or Soviet Zealots,” always led in the same direction: environmental apocalypse. Liberalism, which had once viewed men and women as capable of shaping their own destinies, now saw humanity in the grip of vast ecological forces that could be tamed only by extreme measures to reverse the damages that industrial capitalism had inflicted on Mother Earth. It had become progressive to reject progress."

Funny Friday: Hilarious Horse Race Call "My Wife Knows Everything"

A pithy friend quipped, "I bet they were nags." 

Neil Cavuto: Obama's Path to History as a one-termer?

Fox News anchor Neil Cavuto offers some interesting commentary on how the 2012 election may shape out. Ego is an interesting thing, as is the American electorate's willingness to get snookered. Given how slick and disciplined President Obama's 2008 campaign for president was, his preference for time on the golf course, as opposed to managing the nation, his wife's incredibly lavish and out-of-touch sense of vacation entitlement, his administration's indifference to the economic woes crushing large swaths of voters, and his avoidance of seeming pro-active on any issue other than socializing health-care, one must wonder how serious he is about running for a second term.

That being said, perhaps Obama has nailed something about American politics post Eisenhower. No president ever has a good second term. Kennedy got whacked before he could make it, Johnson failed so miserably he bowed-out as to avoid disgrace, Nixon resigned, Carter got trounced because his first term was a botched abortion, Reagan was plagued with shady underlings and memory lapses, Bush the Elder didn't deserve re-election on account of raising taxes, Clinton dragged this nation through tabloid-hell while doing nothing but revealing what a scum-bucket he is, and Bush the Younger couldn't deliver on anything of substance beyond offering successful surge in Iraq and watched the GOP rightfully implode.

Given his monumental vanity and ego, the werewolf is unsure how this comedic-farce will play itself out. However, perhaps Obama will do the nation a favor and push the nation that effective public-service is a better path overall than constantly thinking about the next election. Wishful thinking, methinks.

NIN with Gary Numan: Cars (Live)

Funny Friday: "Role Models" Camping with Ronnie

Mexico's Continual Implosion

Today's WSJ ran a frightful article, "Mexico Under Siege," by Nicholas Casey on the latest narco-terror conditions plaguing Mexico's wealthiest city, Monterrey, and threatening the near-term political and economic stability of the Mexican state. This is nothing new conceptually, yet with each passing day, Mexico takes one step closer to totally collapse and collapse and failure. Conditions on the ground level have deteriorated to the point where residents are communicating to the government via newspaper advertising!

"Residents opened their newspapers Wednesday morning to find the ads taken out by Mexican business leaders, begging the government to send more military into the city. "Enough already," said the notice that ran in national and local papers, criticizing what it said was a slow response of police against "criminal bands that in every act look to establish a new boundary of terror."

The Mexican government is either impotent, deaf, or incapable of dealing with the cartel pandemic. Taking out a newspaper ad is akin to sending smoke signals of distress in the days western frontier yore, it doesn't get an flipping' worse. Yet, policy makers in Washington, DC, and leading media analysts seem uninterested in these alarming trends at best and woefully ignorant at worst. Are they distracting, unaware, or just playing the role of the coy ostrich and hoping that embedding your head in the sand will to the problem magically evaporating. Today, we silently celebrated the withdrawal of our last combat brigade from Iraq, are floundering in a confused and ill-defined mission in Afghanistan, and are expressing total indifference to Iran's upcoming membership in the nuclear. All of the aforementioned, while important, is also half-a-globe away. The only news we regularly read about Mexico is how pissed off certain liberals and left-wing Mexicans are about Arizona's legislative experiment in legitimate border control and sovereignty preservation. (Mixed feelings on the Arizona law itself, but a deep appreciation for the spirit driving it on this end) It boggles the mind given what is at stake should Mexico descend into a state paralyzed anarchy, especially given the porous nature of the United States-Mexico border, the size of legitimate trade and commercial activity ob both sides of the border, and the potential for extensive spill-over into the United States proper should things go any further south, south of the border. When it comes to governmental authority and respect for the rule of law, here's what the drug cartels think.

"The body of Edelmiro Cavazos, mayor of the Monterrey suburb of Santiago, was found beside a highway. Mr. Cavazos had been abducted Sunday night, the latest in a string of attacks against politicians in Mexico's north."

These cartel goons are afraid of nothing. Whacking government officials like they are playing Grand Theft Auto with no sense of recourse is unreal. Does Calderon's authority not extend beyond the walls of the presidential residence? How long before madness like that infiltrates El Paso, Tucson, Phoenix, and San Diego? It has been roughly a century since the United States had to dispatch General Pershing to deal with Pancho Villa's cross-border incursions. As much as history repeats itself on some levels, the stakes are much different should we start playing games of cat-and-mouse with well-financed and utterly ruthless drug cartels who know no limits, decency, or honor. If the implications weren't so dire and threat so real, the foundation of this tragedy would actually be fascinating to watch and follow.

Poetry: Epitaph on an Army of Mercenaries

Epitaph on an Army of Mercenaries

These, in the day when heaven was falling,

The hour when earth's foundations fled,

Followed their mercenary calling,

And took their wages, and are dead.

Their shoulders held the sky suspended;

They stood, and earth's foundations stay;

What God abandoned, these defended,

And saved the sum of things for pay.

A.E. Housman

LA Gets Something Right!

The werewolf both loves and loves to hate his hometown of Los Angeles. For years, he has been aggravated by LA's petulance, arrogance, and vapidity. Nauseating traffic, throngs of unkempt peoples, oppressive city ordinances, and prohibitive living costs are just a few of the turn-offs radiating from the so-called City of Angels. However, LA has a pedestrian eating scene that is second to none (Pink's, Phillipe's, Langer's, Cantor's, The Larchmont Village Wine Shop, Roscoe's Chicken, to name a few folks), incredible people watching, amazing architecture, accommodating weather, and a diverse swath of enchanting neighborhoods tucked away in various pockets of urban jungle, certainly add to its charm. However, The Los Angeles Times has an amusing piece, "It's Unanimous, President's Visit Leaves LA Boiling," which brought a sincere and overdue smile to the werewolf's face. An excellent except:

"A Brentwood resident's two-mile jaunt took 45 minutes. An Echo Park couple who left home at 5:30 p.m. found their usual 20-minute drive west to Olympic and Rimpau boulevards took a whopping hour and 15 minutes. An attorney left his Miracle Mile-area office at 5:45 p.m. and sat unmoving in traffic for 45 minutes.

No matter their politics, Los Angeles residents found themselves united. "It was a beautiful thing," said Brentwood resident Myles Berkowitz, commiserating with his neighbors on Montana Avenue. "Young, old, black, white — everyone was pissed off.""

Hope and change, folks.

Beauty

The delectable Eva Green, portraying Vesper Lynd, in Casino Royale. A modern day Helen of Troy? Perhaps...

Sea Wolf: You're a Wolf (studio)

Robert Kaplan - Living With a Nuclear Iran

Sadly, the West has lost all resolve and gumption when it comes to containing and preempting belligerent states from acquiring weapons of mass destruction. Like an ostrich with its' head in the sand, the feckless and passive attitudes currently reigning supreme in Washington, London, Berlin, Brussels, and Paris, are woefully neglectful of the pending problems and changing landscape on the surface. The reliably insightful Robert Kaplan has an excellent article, "Living with a Nuclear Iran," that paints a poignant picture how to handle this brave new world in the latest edition of The Altantic. We are in for an bumpy ride ahead and the deferring the tough choices of the present while pay some ugly dividends in the years to come.

"At the time of his writing Nuclear Weapons and Foreign Policy, some analysts took Kissinger to task for what one reviewer called “wishful thinking”—in particular, his insufficient consideration of civilian casualties in a limited nuclear exchange. Moreover, Kissinger himself later moved away from his advocacy of a NATO strategy that relied on short-range, tactical nuclear weapons to counterbalance the might of the Soviet Union’s conventional forces. (The doctrinal willingness to suffer millions of West German civilian casualties to repel a Soviet attack seemed a poor way to demonstrate the American commitment to the security and freedom of its allies.) But that does not diminish the utility of Kissinger’s thinking the unthinkable. Indeed, now that the nuclear club has grown, and nuclear weaponry has become more versatile and sophisticated, the questions that his book raises are even more relevant. The dreadful prospect of limited nuclear exchanges is inherent in a world no longer protected by the carapace of mutual assured destruction. Yet much as limited war has brought us to grief, our willingness to wage it may one day save us from revolutionary powers that have cleverly obscured their intentions—Iran not least among them."

Yeah Yeah Yeahs - Heads Will Roll

Bizarre, alluring, energetic, and violent. Surprisingly enjoyable.

Funny Friday: What Knockers!

Ivy: Blame It On Yourself (Studio)

Female french accents are aurally delicious.

Funny Friday: Alabama Newscast

Welcome to The 29 Club

The werewolf was thrust through the doors of The 29 Club today. As we get older, each passing year seems to elapse quicker than the previous one. It's like compound interest, except applied to time, perspective and speed. Years felt like lifetimes during the ignorant days of my youth. Perhaps the dull and mundane routine of elementary school combined with a lack of perspective is what made time feel so slow back in the day. Now, I am desperately searching for way to put the brakes on time.

In many ways, I'd liken my experience during my 20s to the "Roaring 20s" in American history. The early and mid-part of the decade were loaded with excitement, opportunity, and optimism. However, as the end of the decade approached, the bubble I was living in violently burst, and getting back-on-track has proven a Herculean task. 28 was an incredibly shitty year by most metrics for the werewolf, so although somewhat ambivalent about crossing the threshold, he hopes that the psychological chance to start afresh actually lends itself to something tangible and measurable.

It's freaky to think I am fast approaching 30, which is halfway to 60, which in turn is more than halfway to certain death. I graduated from high school in June of 2000 and can vividly recall most of the past decade. I am slightly more than a decade away from being 40, which used to seem geriatric and unimaginably far off when I was a whelp.  In turn, the optimistic vitality of youth has given-way to the dark realities of mortality and getting my crap in order. In some ways, I have meet my internal goals for myself, in other ways, I have fallen drastically short. Oddly, the expansive and ambitious certainty that governed my disposition a few years ago has morphed into something that is far less certain and much more aware of the constraints and limitations that exist.

Things I have noticed the last few years:

I can no longer metabolize chill-cheese bacon burgers and double-dipped milkshakes with the same enthusiasm and carelessness of my teenage years. Still few things are as grand as a dozen raw oysters, a rare dry-aged porterhouse, warm buttered bread, and a giant baked potato with the works.

The hair on my head is diminishing resource. Despite my emotional protests, it seems to be recolonizing down my back.

Hard-drinking and partying with reckless abandon is still fun and admirable. 2-day Hangovers aren't.

I can live just fine without vodka. However, the mere thought of going sans bourbon, gin, rye, or rum is truly depressing.

I am struggling with the trends in humor or perhaps what passes for current humor isn't funny. With a few current expectations, movies and television isn't as funny as it used to be. I still yearn to play golf at Bushwood Country Club, go to Wally World, trade pork belly futures with the Duke Brothers, travel to Zumunda, and find that Torino with no wheels in East St. Louis.

Freedom and individuality are growing scarce. Cherish them.

You start to really know who your friends are and will be. Long standing relationships, rich with history, are one of the most gratifying things we experience.

Our entry visas on this planet are truly brief, before our exit visa gets stamped. It is time to start making each-and-every day count.

Style & Wisdom

The Sterling Look

Pearls of Sterling Wisdom

“I like redheads. Their mouths are like a drop of strawberry jam in a glass of milk.”

"Look, I want to tell you something because you're very dear to me. And I hope you understand that it comes from the bottom of my damaged, damaged heart. You are the finest piece of ass I've ever had and I don't care who knows it. I am so glad that I got to roam those hillsides." 

"Look, we've got oysters rockefeller! Beef Wellington! Napoleons! We leave this lunch alone, it'll take over Europe."

"Don't you love the chase? Sometimes it doesn't work out; those are the stakes. But when it does work out, it's like having that first cigarette: your head gets all dizzy, your heart pounds, your knees go weak. Remember that? Old business is just old business."

"Can I just fire everyone?"

Simple Minds: Don't You Forget About Me (live)

Funny Friday: Ari Gold "My wife's in the car"

Defiance

One of history's greatest heroes. We owe this man more than any word or phrase can adequately capture.

Warren Zevon: Werewolves of London (live)

In many ways this is the anthem that paves the way for all the werewolf does in this humble life. Likely, it is the finest song ever written. It has often been speculated that werewolf was conceived following a Warren Zevon concert in late 1980 or early 1981. It was during the summer of 1998, while drinking too much gin on the banks of the Zambezi river, playing a drawn out game of chess with a profoundly decent and generous Afrikaner at the Tahita Falcon Lodge in southern Zambia, that the epic nature of this song revealed itself.

Not sure what Warren has been drinking or smoking prior to this performance, but the legend himself is en fuego during this clip. I would have given the thumb on my left paw to see this song performed live by the maestro. Enjoy!

A Tempest in a Teapot: Faux controversey over Stanley Statue

In the history of colonial exploration and adventure, the most quoted man is likely Henry Morgan Stanley. Any educated person who isn't familiar with Stanley's famous "Dr. Livingston, I presume" should take-up skydiving without a parachute or drag racing in the fog without a seat-belt.  The Daily Telegraph has an excellent piece highlighting how the corrupt agents of skewed political correctness have hamstrung a Welsh town's ability to celebrate its' favorite son. The self-righteous, no-fun, limited, and myopic people who are hell-bent on obstructing the commissioning of this statue are a laughable testament to how bankrupt and shameless slaves to political correctness have become. Get a freakin' life, folks. Do you propose we tear down every statue to Woodrow Wilson, since he re-segregated the U.S. Civil Service, or most of the founding fathers, since they were active slave-owners? Let us not forget that Nelson Mandela was once a violent terrorist. We can devote our time to tearing apart most of history's heroes and noted characters, but sometimes saving our collective doubts and scorn for those villains who merit it, like Fidel Castro, Joseph Stalin, and Adolf Hilter. Few things are as loathsome as selective outrage.

Stanley may have been a racist, opportunist, and shameless self-promoter. Not my place to judge (I save that for when it counts, like terrorism or genocide), and these are certainly not the traits that give cause to honor him. Undoubtedly, he was also incredibly bold, intrepid, and dynamic in terms of the risk and endeavors he pursued. Those are qualities that merit recognition and give cause for just remembrance and why he is likely one of the most quoted men in history. Here is to hoping the statue gets completed, and the vow that if the werewolf should ever find himself in the Welsh town of Denbigh, you can wager he'll be sporting a big smile next to the statue of Henry Morgan Stanley.

Funny Friday: Best In Show "Faux Love"

Desmund Tutu: Wishing Obama would Channel Bush on Africa

In a remarkable article published in yesterday's New York Times, Desmund Tutu, human rights legend and anti-apartheid luminary, publicly wonders why Obama is derelict on his pledges to Africa and the continent's struggle against the AIDS crisis. During the 2008 election, Obama's ties to Kenya were played ad nauseum, as if they somehow accentuated his already stunted credentials. The great irony that liberals can't seem to grasp, is that President Bush was the most Africa oriented President to every occupy the White House. Other legacies aside, that seems to be set in stone for the foreseeable future. When you've pissed off Desmond Tutu, and you can claim black African heritage and are the former poster-child for post-modern liberalism, you know you've lost some serious luster.

Tubeway Army: Are Friends Electric? (live)

African Terror: Recalling Mau Mau

Last February, The Daily Mail ran a great article from an acitve participant's perspective during the infamous Mau Mau emergency that took place in Kenya during the 1950s. The participant and author, Tim Symonds, paints a candid and thoughtful picture that pulls no punches. In this modern era of hyper-sensitivity and revisionist inclination, finding someone who calls it as it actually happened is refreshing. The Mau Mau were one of Africa's ugliest and most brutal terrorist insurgencies. For anyone with any passing interest in African history, security, terrorism, decolonization, or justice, this article is a breath of fresh air and a must read.

Here are some excellent passages from Symonds recollection:


Criteria for being targeting by the Mau Mau.

"Leakey was selected not because he was an enemy of the Kikuyu but, perversely, because he was widely considered a good man and therefore a more powerful sacrificial offering. He even had a Kikuyu nickname - Morungaru - which means 'tall and straight'."

 On blending in.

"Their sense of smell from life in the forest had become so keen that they could smell my freshly-laundered clothes. Another white man arrived. 'OK, film star,' he said to me. 'I'm your make-up man.'
He painted potassium permanganate on my hands, face and neck to stain the skin. Then he produced a small tin of boot polish and a tiny watercolour brush. 'Let's start with your right eye,' he said. 'Open wide.'
He brushed a small blob of the boot polish right inside the eyelid. It stung and I shouted, prompting peals of laughter from the Mau Mau men. He held out a mirror and, blinking uncontrollably, I looked at my eye. The polish had spread across it, turning the whites a streaky yellow"

 Jomo Kenyatta and the sinister benefits of incarceration.

"A white police officer met me and told me I was to take charge of a Land Rover with an African driver, who would take me to a secret destination to deliver a cargo. I went outside and met the driver. Crates had been loaded in the back of the Land Rover, covered by a tarpaulin.
Some time later we arrived at our destination where I gave a white Kenya police officer the papers to sign for the cargo. He invited me in for a quick drink before I had to set off for home base. Afterwards I came out to find the Land Rover only three-quarters unloaded. The mysterious cargo turned out to be crate upon crate of Scotch whisky.
The police officer explained that Jomo Kenyatta, the man accused of masterminding the Mau Mau, was being held under close arrest nearby. Kenyatta was being provided with three bottles of Scotch every day, which he was consuming.
The real aim, the officer said, was for Kenyatta to die of cirrhosis of the liver as quickly as possible. I could tell he wasn't joking.
Kenyatta was nearing 70 at the time. Eight years later, in 1963, he was to become newly independent Kenya's first black prime minister. Shortly after that he became Kenya's president, famed for his flywhisk, the symbol of a Kikuyu elder, made from the end of a cow's tail. Perhaps we pickled him instead of killing him: Kenyatta lived until he was 89."

It's a spectacular and compelling tale.

Feliz Cumpleanos, Alejandro!

The werewolf's oldest friend and companero through this struggle called life, the infamous Legal Beagle, turns 29 today. Feliz Cumpleanos, senor!  The werewolf can trace the roots of this long-lived friendship back to the Reagan administration where the werewolf would bully the poor little Legal Beagle around the pre-school yard. (There is actually a tit-for-tat game theory story embedded in there for your econ geeks) Despite the suspect roots, it has grown into a storied friendship indeed. Nearly three-decades later there is too much crap to unload in a humble blog post, however, it should be the noted that the werewolf is grateful for the years of friendship and wishes the Legal Beagle a splendid 29th birthday and hopes that you spend your last year of relative youth with some reckless abandon and carefree shenanigans. *Clink*

The whole freaking-out because the dreaded age of 30 is looming like a sinister and rusted guillotine blade suspended by a threadbare and well-worn strand of hemp will be saved for another post.

Billy Joel: We Didn't Start the Fire (live)

I never really thought this Billy Joel classic would sound as good live as it does. Hat tip to Billy and his band. Nevertheless, the lyrics are truly timeless.

It's a helluva song to try and karaoke, however, perhaps that's because one only karaokes when fueled by a case of beer. 

Funny Friday: The Hangover "He was a retard"

Canada's Contribution: Longest Sniper Kill-Shot Ever Recorded

For those of you that question Canada's global value-add, as the werewolf does on occasion, you can assuage your concerns pronto. This fascinating little clip from The History Channel, showcases the longest successful sniper kill ever recorded. It was made a Canadian unit sniper, Rob Furlong, attached to the US Special Forces serving in Afghanistan in 2002. It's a solid and fascinating little segment that breaths fresh life into the concept of justifying Canada.

Great Villains in Fiction

Villains make the world go round. Could you imagine a villainless world? It'd be so boring, mild, timid, and tame. Would we know what we value without having to fight for it on occasion? Villains remind us of these important things and therefor perform an invaluable societal service.  For no good reason, villains have been on my mind of late. It always makes the werewolf smile when the bad guy wins, especially when the villains motives are ambiguous and unclear.

Here are some cinema/literary villains that are more than worth their weight in gold.

Hans Gruber (played by Alan Rickman in Die Hard): Strategic planner, gifted conversationalist, style hound, forward thinker, and cold hearted murderer.

Magua (played by Wes Studi in Last of the Mohicans): Warrior, hunter, sadist, savage cannibal, and consumed by a fiery hatred of the British that burns brighter than the sun.

Hannibal Lecter (played by Anthony Hopkins in Silence of the Lambs, Hannibal, and Red Dragon): Epicurean, psychiatrist, sophisticate, gentleman, and homicidal maniac with a preference for devouring human body parts.

Saruman The White (Played by Christopher Lee in The Lord of the Rings): White Wizard, scholar, thinker, mentor, engineer, petty, and power-hungry murderous traitor.

 Vincent (Played by Tom Cruise in Collateral): Professional, goal oriented, cool, efficient, unflappable, well dressed, and a ruthless trigger man.

Iago (Played by Kenneth Branaugh in Othello): Cool, clever, destructive, jealous, manipulative, and dashingly unsympathetic.

Ozymandias (Played by Matthew Goode in The Watchmen): Driven, accomplished, talented, myopic, brutal pacificst, treacherous, naive, and spiteful.

 

This is list is far from comprehensive. Who are your favorite villains?

David Bowie: Ashes to ashes (live)

Confidence

Dodge Challenger Ad: Cars and Freedom

Setting aside the fact that Chrysler has become a total joke of a car company and the American automotive industry is in shambles thanks to shortsighted management and gluttonous unions, this television spot qualifies as awesome.

Funny Friday: Ghostbusters "Back off man, I'm a scientist!"

Creedence Clearwater Revival - Born On The Bayou (live)

Some serious rock 'n roll. God bless CCR. Some of my favorite lyrics of all time are sourced in this musical masterpiece.

"Now, when I was just a little boy,
Standin' to my Daddy's knee,
My poppa said, "Son, don't let the man get you
Do what he done to me."
'Cause he'll get you,
'Cause he'll get you now, now.

And I can remember the fourth of July,
Runnin' through the backwood, bare.
And I can still hear my old hound dog barkin',
Chasin' down a hoodoo there.
Chasin' down a hoodoo there.

Wish I was back on the Bayou.
Rollin' with some Cajun Queen.
Wishin' I were a fast freight train,
Just a chooglin' on down to New Orleans."

NASA: Wishing They Were Lost in Space

This clip is astounding. It further convinces the werewolf how the absurd has usurped common-sense and how the world is losing grips with reality. If you start watching around 1:20 mark, our esteemed NASA administrator, Charles Bolden, explains the three primary objectives of NASA under his watch. The first two or forgettable boilerplate, however, the third point is to "find a way to reach out and engage the Muslim world." WTF!

Is NASA planning to dust  off some old Gemini capsules to float over the Mecca and negotiate with some Muslims on flying carpets? We have reached a point were the absurd has been normalized in our society. It about as ridiculous as having the Department of Corrections deciding to go into the day-care business using ex-cons. Not only is it bizarre, dangerous, and creepy; but it stretches beyond the bounds of fiction. When NASA has been charged with executing cultural diplomacy, representing America with a difficult global constituency,  and being the agency apologizing for America, what the hell is the rest of government up to? If NASA isn't exploring space, who is, the Ministry of Funny Walks?

Nothing has prompted the need to dissolve NASA and privatize space exploration more urgently than this comical farce.  We live in strange times indeed.

Hell, it's good for an honest laugh.

Sisters of Mercy: Lucretia, My Reflection (Studio)

One of those songs that never got the love it merited. Excellent for running, working out, or speeding on the interstate.

African Money Laundering

During the werewolf's travels throughout Africa, Zambia specifically, he recalls getting his hands on some local currency, the Kwacha, that was so filthy, a haz-mat suit would have be advisable in handling it. The notes were so odious, greasy, yucky, and sticky, the werewolf wondering if they had been deposited in someones rectum at some-point. The gooey residue that seemed to coat each note managed to contaminate the werewolf's old travel wallet, rendering it useless. The filth has spread from local currency to international bills it seems. Anyhow, a friend sent the werewolf this update from AP on the need sanitize currency in Zimbabwe.

"Some have become almost too smelly to handle, so Zimbabweans have taken to putting their $1 bills through the spin cycle and hanging them up to dry with clothes pins alongside sheets and items of clothing.

It's the best solution — apart from rubber gloves or disinfectant wipes — in a continent where the U.S. dollar has long been the currency of choice and where the lifespan of a dollar far exceeds what the U.S. Federal Reserve intends."

This takes the meaning of dirty money to a whole new level.

Happy Birthday America!

The Art of the Insult

I found this compilation clip via Instapundit. Insulting someone in a meaningful and effectual way is both an art and science on some levels. Balancing between painful truths, cutting language, and poetic timing can be challenging. Some of these showcased lines are epic. During high school, there was list of Shakespearean insults that circulated around much to our collective amusement. If people put more thought into the insults they hurled, perhaps the world be a more considerate and balanced place.

Life is too short not to get laid. Ten Reasons Why Sex Is Good for You

The werewolf didn't need 10 more reason to enjoy mounting an agreeable, attractive, and worthy female. However, for those of you that are having trouble closing "the deal," perhaps this list will somehow help you bolster your chances. Personally, 8 and 10 seem increasingly appealing from a strategic age management perspective.

"1. Sex is a stress reliever
Sex can lower blood pressure and reduce stress. One study looked at women’s heart rates and cortisol levels as a measure of stress response. It found women showed less stress after good sex with a partner. Emotional support alone didn’t have the same effect.
2. Sex boosts immunity
Good sexual health can mean better physical health. Having sex once or twice a week has been linked with higher levels of antibodies that can protect you from getting colds and other infections.
3. Sex burns calories
Thirty minutes of sex burns around eighty-five calories. That may not seem like much, but the more sex you have, the more you burn. Sex versus the gym… hmmm?
4. Sex improves cardiovascular health
Women who have more sex tend to have higher levels of estrogen, which protects against heart disease.
5. Sex boosts self-esteem
Researchers at the University of Texas found that a self-esteem boost was one of 237 reasons people have sex.
6. Sex improves intimacy
Orgasm and having sex increases levels of oxytocin, the so-called love hormone. It helps us bond and build trust. Researchers from the University of Pittsburgh and the University of North Carolina evaluated 59 premenopausal women before and after contact with their husbands and partners. They found that the more contact, the higher the oxytocin levels.
7. Sex reduces pain
As the hormone oxytocin surges, endorphins increase and pain decreases. So if your headache, muscle aches or PMS symptoms seem to improve after sex, go ahead and thank the oxytocin.
8. Sex strengthens pelvic floor muscles
Bring on the Kegels! Doing a few of these exercises during intercourse offers several benefits. Women have more pleasure; they’re strengthening their pelvic area and helping to minimize the risk of incontinence later in life.
9. Sex helps you sleep better
According to researchers, oxytocin released during orgasm also helps you catch more z’s. And that can come from solo sex or sex with a partner.
10. Sex fights aging
Sex is a form of exercise. And like most exercise, it burns calories and can battle the onslaught of aging. In fact, nursing home experts say they wish seniors would have more sex."

Funny Friday: The Bleeps, the Sweeps, and the Creeps

Never ceases to amuse. 

Depeche Mode: "Policy of Truth" (Live)