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)

Christopher Lambert: From C-list Action Joke to French Art-House Star

Although the first act of his career has been immortalized by yelling the "there can be only one" in some ridiculous unidentifiable accent from Highlander, it's nice to know that even cheese-ball action stars can recast themselves in a substantive way. The Guardian has a great piece on Christopher Lambert's evolution to Christophe, the latest sensation in the trendy French film scene. There is something liberating and redeeming about capturing a new lease on life. Good for Monsieur Lambert.

So was Lionel Richie Wrong?

So much for going "all night long." According to decades of research, "Real couples are satisfied with making love for between three and 13 minutes – and can find anything over ten minutes tiresome." For all of you easily excitable types out there, two minutes is still too short.

Still, something about this survey and statistic strikes the werewolf as a little off, he just can't put his paw on it. Did it build in differences for young, enthusiastic couples, who still enjoy each other, versus older, jaded couples who resent the hell out of each other? There must be a cultural component too, boring Canadians must be on the lower end of the spectrum, while feisty Latins on the other. Still, the hyperlinked article from the Daily Mail made for an amusing read.

Funny Friday: Ruprecht

Funny Friday: Vacation in The Hood

The Who: Baba O'Riley (live with fruity booty wiggle)

The werewolf loves The Who. Their status as grandmasters of good old rock n' roll is nearly unrivaled. However, if you watch this live version of Baba O'Riley from 1:53 to about 1:59, Pete Townshend pulls a move that would make Boy George jealous. Hat tip to the werewolf's father for noticing that bizarre booty bop.  Hindsight really is 20-20. Remember to crank to volume when listening to this one. Enjoy!

Original vs. Covers: In a Big Country

Although The Dashboard Confessionals, and Moe put forward a valiant effort, Big Country wins this contest big.  Any dissenters?

Big Country

The Dashboard Confessionals


Moe (This video is a ghetto collection of random pics)

Funny Friday: Lewis Black on Nuclear Holocaust

Elvis Costello: "What's So Funny 'Bout Peace Love & Understanding" (live)

Costello has a great sense of humor and knows how to rock.

Giving it the old college try: Kaus's concession statement

Rouge Democrat and political gadfly, Mickey Kaus, didn't win yesterday's primary challenge against one of the most heinous legislators of our time, Barbara Boxer. However, he did clock in about 100,000 votes and gave a hell of a concession statement. Not bad for an honest blogger who ran on only $40K. Here is a high-light from his statement.

"I'm a blogger. I spent about $40,000. I had one part-time aide, a recent college grad who was prepping for his LSATs. We had no headquarters, no pollsters, no highly paid strategists and consultants. We had a couple of laptops and an old Volvo. And we still ripped off more than 100,000 votes from a three term incumbent because there is  a large group of voters who are dissatisfied with the prevailing dogma of the Democratic party.

I entered the race because I wanted to start up an argument among Democrats about the party's direction--about the need to say "no" to the unions and to insist on securing the border before we even talk about amnesty."

Although the werewolf was a Tom Campbell fan, he will always have a soft-spot for any honest, anti-establishment types that try and rock the vote.

Funny Friday: How to Speak Italian

REM: Crush With Eyeliner (live)

This may be the best REM song you've never heard before. 

Mickey Kaus: An honest Democrat

What a great ad. If only all aspiring politicians were this honest. Sadly, this guy doesn't have a snowballs chance in hell.

Funny Friday: Whistle tips

A fine slice of real Americana.

Country Club Blues

The Wall Street Journal has an interesting story on the push by generation X and younger aspiring social elites to increase the permissibility and acceptance of denim in the halls of various country clubs. The article speaks to how touchy younger generations are with one marketing consultant claiming that the tradition bound rules that govern many county clubs "is tantamount to "a sign out front saying, 'I hate you' " to them. Have we become so vain, soft, and weak that rules to prohibit denim are a new form of hate? Get the fuck out of here.

The real irony is noted towards the end of the article that while these "young turks" are agitating for a change in the club house, they still firmly believe that the courses should maintain a prohibition on denim lest they become "too muni." (In reference to public and municipal golf courses.) In essence, they want to degrade the traditions in the club house for convenience, yet maintain the same rules the find so disturbing on the actual course. For you Caddyshack fans out there, it is the worst hybrid of Judge Smails and Al Czervik.

As the article notes, if they are interested in their long-term survival, private country clubs should express an adaptability with their rules and try and foster a long term strategy that attracts and grows members that reflect the values and traditions they wish to project. However, they should screen-out members who seems to have under appreciation for tradition and wish to erode the ethos of the club.

Personally, I have no problem with dress codes and think they are refreshing. Especially given how pathetically most people present themselves in public in this modern. I also think a little discipline foisted upon people who voluntarily make an association shows a sign a commitment to an organization. With the exception of family, virtually all associations are voluntary in this day and age. If not wearing denim is too burdensome for some folks, then perhaps they should frequent the municipal golf courses they hold such contempt for.

This just smacks of an aggressive short sighted hypocrisy, laziness, and self-centeredness that speaks very poorly to values of my generation, and those immediately preceding. The future is grim.

London Calling: Elvis Costello, Bruce Springsteen, & David Grohl (Live)

What an incredible tribute to Joe Strummer at the 2003 Grammys. That's what you call rock n' roll.

Mugabe's Ark.

In one of last week's stranger unnoticed stories, Zimbabwe is donating some exotic wildlife to North Korea. WTF, right? It's like sending your kids over to the local pedophile's house for a sleepover. Nothing good will come of it. It is almost kafkaesque in absurdity when one stops to consider it. What the hell does a autarkic communist relic need with some prize African game? It's always amusing to observe the bizarre shenanigans of the worlds petty dictators, but even this action defies logic.

Zimbabwe is the textbook basket-case. It desperately needs legit business partners and capital just to make it to next month. North Korea is the retarded belligerent state, that is actually irrational, destabilizing, and dangerous. Do they even know what an elephant or giraffe is in North Korea? How do these two actors benefit each other? It is no secret that Mugabe has used the North Koreans to train his infamous Fifth Brigade "death squads," which butchered the Matabele in the mid-1980s. However, trading exotic game for war crimes seems like an odd currency to balance the books with.

Assuming the animals survive the passage from Zimbabwe to North Korea, which is dubious on some levels, what next? North Korea is on the brink of famine, has no expertise in any kind of African animal care or husbandry, and, as mentioned above, is a regime that prides itself on being archaic, isolationist, out-of-touch, and strange. Let us not forget that Kim Jong Il, the leader of the North Korean Regime, has scored a 15 while playing 18 holes of golf and written several operas in his spare time. How long do these critters have?

Other than the profound weirdness, I  am not sure what the reaction should be, if any. Although, I am surprised that the animal rights wackos aren't shitting bricks and throwing an international hissy fit.

Top Gun: Greatest Movie Intro Ever!

Like the Rock of Gibraltar, few things are as timelessly awesome and consistent as the title/opening sequence of Top Gun. Between the perfectly harmonized music, mind-blowing sounds, evocative imagery of seamless naval flight operations,  and unabashed conveyance of Pax Americana, it covers all of its' bases. It's tough to dispute the all encompassing awesomeness of these first four cinematic minutes and with the exception of the opening sequence of Casino Royale, the werewolf has yet to find a film that gets so much right so quickly.

The werewolf's father is the consummate technology geek and is always upgrading his home theater systems. One of the best tests you can perform to assess the quality of your domestic entrainment set-up is load the Blu-Ray of Top Gun and crank the sound as far as your willing to risk it. If you're spleen is shaking, kidney's are tickled, and the cockles of your American heart are teased, life is grand. It is full-proof and worthy test.

Although far from perfect (is there a perfect film?), Top Gun is an undisputed classic. The Cold War themes, unapologetic pro-Americanism, pro-U.S. military, plus a killer cast that launched multiple careers. Household names such as Tom Cruise, Val Kilmer, Tim Robbins, Tom Skerrit, Meg Ryan, Anthony Edwards, Michael Ironside, and Kelly McGillis all showed up in the cast. Plus, do you remember the call-sign for the token black pilot? I bet "Hollywood" comes to mind. Wrong! "Sundown" is his call-sign, I shit you not. This a legacy of many a night devoted to pub trivia.

The Mighty Mighty Bosstones: The Rascal King

Who knew that a ska ballad about a tough-minded and acceptably corrupt urban politician would be one of this wolf's enduring favorites from his reckless youth. The Bosstones are a noteworthy ska act, who actually have a number of hits under their belt that embed them as a distinctly 1990s era act. I will confess to loving the portion of this video where the "Rascal King" does a Fred Astairesque dance that just radiates cool confidence. People, especially guys, have long lost a sense of how to really dance in these modern times. The werewolf has drunkenly crashed and burned trying to replicate these moves on more than one occasion.

Why are there so few good ballads about bad-asses out there these days?  Having growing up loving songs like Manfred Mann's "Quinn the Eskimo," Jim Croce's "LeRoy Brown," and "Tales of Brave Ulysses" by Cream,  it disappoints me that there are so few notable ones of there these days. Especially, given how many great tales of corruption, heroism, and the extraordinary could be told. Maybe, this wolf is sniffing around the wrong holes. Any suggestions?

Funny Friday: Coming to America "Barber Shop"

Blind Drunks

Over at the Daily Mail, this article reveals a new trend that may lead to legions of blind Britons.

"Even as drunken student antics go, it was, by any stretch of the imagination, a disturbing scene. Surrounded by cheering rugby players, applauded by fellow members of the university netball team, 19-year-old Melissa Fontaine tipped back her head and giggled as fellow drinkers in the Students' Union bar pulled apart her eyelids and allowed them to pour a shot of vodka into her left eye.
'Vodka eyeballing', as it is known in student circles, is the latest drinking craze to sweep through Britain's universities"

This wolf loves his booze, when it is poured down his throat. I guess this gives new meaning to the term "blind drunk." 

There was honor in drinking yourself blind with moonshine. Vodka eyeballing, not so much.

Haircut 100: Love Plus One

Another classic finger-dancing and sing along song when in the car.

Not sure whatever happened to these guys. Faded into forgotten obscurity.

Funny Friday: Caddyshack "Ballroom insults"

Tories back in the saddle. Is this a horse they want to ride?

The werewolf is pleased that the eternally frumpy and unimpressive Gordon Brown resigned from the Prime Ministership of the United Kingdom. That simple act was long overdue. Brown was a dud extraordinaire.

Tony Blair, despite his flaws, was a tough act to follow. Every trait that made him such an impressive, likeable and charismatic PM, Brown seemed to lack. Where Blair articulated, Brown stumbled; when Blair charmed, Brown put to sleep; Blair project a moral conviction, whereas Brown seemed to unenthusiastically read retreaded talking points. Was their ever a more stark study in contrasts?

 Although a little left for the werewolf, Blair possessed a combination of personal tact, political deftness, and deep appreciation for the transatlantic “special relationship” that should define Anglo-American relations. Brown is a freakin’ Scottish dial-tone. Brown may be one of the most underwhelming and unimpressive leaders of a great western power since that joke of a U.S. President Jimmy Carter. At least Carter can find marginal redemption via his eccentric killer bunny sightings, naïve county bumpkin act and bad peanut farmer jokes.  Hopefully, with David Cameron as the newly ascendant Prime Minister, a degree of charm, conviction, style, and gravitas will be restored to the venerable office. Let it be noted that Mrs. Brown looked far more stately and elegant than her drab husband, something that took the werewolf  unawares.

This brings a second point to bear. It’s a shitty time to govern, anywhere in the civilized world. That unto itself should be a call to govern in order to try and usher in stability and a restoration of something better than what we currently have in place. However, given the United Kingdom’s bizarre electoral system, and the Tories shortfall of the minimum votes needed to form a government, the werewolf wonders if slipping into bed with the naïve and strangely out-dated Liberal Democrats is the best course of action towards achieving their long-term goals of righting the various deficiencies and hurdles Britain faces both economically and strategically. The last time a hung-parliament was formed in the mid-1970s, it lasted a few months before crumbling. Here are the question the werewolf wonders, will the Liberal Democrats prove to be reliable coalition partners who will deliver the needed votes on recovery centric legislation and fiscal austerity that the U.K. needs? Is there a risk of Labour’s recent reputation of do-nothingism and ineffectual governance being transferred to the Tories by entering into this untraditional coalition? Will voters be sympathetic and forgiving of the obvious hurdles or hold their new government to exacting standards?  Would it have been strategically sound for the Tories to eschew a coalition, and let Labour and the Lib-Dems govern ineffectually for a few months? There is a clear and definite risk to the latter and it is always dangerous to pass up opportunities in politics. However, I am trying to assess to best strategic move from an amateur political analyst perspective.I am well aware of the multitude of additional considerations.

If the werewolf were a Briton - in more than fan-filled honorary spirit - he would likely align himself with the Tories. The werewolf was imbued with a profound admiration and fondness from PM Thatcher from a young-age and holds her and her stewardship of the UK in the highest regard.  He is interested to see how Cameron will measure up given the profound circumstances surrounding his ascension, although he does welcome the fresh face at 10 Downing. Still, as noted, Cameron seems more like a creature of opportunity, and less like man of conviction.  I am ready to be proved wrong.

Original vs. Cover: Nena/Goldfinger "99 luft balloons"

80s Euro rock vs. punk/ska. Like picking between my own offspring, I love them both.

Nena: 99 Luft Balloons (live)



Goldfinger: 99 Red Balloons (studio)

Imelda Marcos, a comeback queen?

Eclectic to the very core, few things capture the werewolf's imagination as much as a random comeback story being realized by the octogenarian widow of long dead third-world autocrat ousted from power a quarter of a century ago. According to the NYTimes, the world's most legendary collector of shoes, Imelda Marcos, is staging a small political comeback in the Philippines. The wife of legendary Filipino dictator and American ally, Ferdinand Marcos, Imelda ingrained herself into the pantheon of kleptocratic legend by leaving behind more than dozen mink coats, 508 ball-room gowns, over 1000 handbags, and more than 3000 pairs of shoes, after she and her husband had been ousted from power. If you're going to go overboard, you best do in ridiculous stylistic extreme, and Madam Marcos certainly qualifies by the werewolf's humble standard. Mink coats in Manila, really?

The werewolf is absolutely captivated by tales of third world largess and dictatorial extreme, primarily when it comes to style and nurturing both image and a cult of personality. He reads endlessly about the amusing antics of Mobutu in Zaire (for managing to rip off over $1B in foreign aid and bathing in Chanel), Bokassa in the Central Africa Republican (for reenacting the coronation of Napoleon and casting himself in the lead), the Duvaliers in Haiti (for being weirdo voodoo practitioners and shameless kleptocrats), Tito in Yugoslavia (for communist largess), Suharto in Indonesia (for having his finger in every single economic transaction in the country), Idi Amin in Uganda (for importing and wrecking Alfa Romeo's with reckless abandon), Sani Abacha in Nigeria (for skimming about $1B off the top of Nigeria's oil economy), to name a few of the more eccentric and colorful ones. (This in no way, shape, or form is an endorsement of corruption, political oppression, violence, ethnic cleansing, and all of the other nasty legacies of the aforementioned cast of characters. They are all despicable and offensive examples of humanity who happen to have a slightly endearing flair for managing their projected brands'  in a fashion that makes the werewolf smile) Notice, to, that not all corrupt dictators have the same ability to project ridiculousness the way these aforementioned few have. Brutality and nastiness don't always translate into fiction worthy expressions of character. Nor are all of the aforementioned particularly brutal or murderous when contrasted against history's greatest murderers of Mao Zedong, Joseph Stalin, Adolf Hitler, Pol Pot, Agathe Habyarimana, and Mengistu Hale Mariam. Idi Amin and Bokassa certainly are nasty, but the others less so. (Again, no excuse or endorsement, just a humble observation of scale.)

The other factor has do to do with the third world ethos and affection often associated with these characters. Part of Madam Marcos' comeback is being engineered by playing to her maternal image within the minds of many Filipinos. The article describes Madam Marcos on the campaign trial in this passage.

“I’m running not only as your representative, but as your mother,” said Mrs. Marcos, still the queen and maybe still the winner, as she passed out juice packets to the children and packs of Winnsboro cigarettes to the men of Nueva Era. “I’ll take care of all of you.”

Fascinating and amusing. Good luck seeking political redemption legitimately, Imelda. This will make for pleasant distraction. The werewolf wonders if she will be seen campaigning in mink coats, or if some keen observer will keep a tally on the handbags and shoes she is seen sporting on the trail. Rarely have phoenixes  risen from stranger ashes.

Funny Friday: Beverly Hills Cop

Tunku Varadarajan: 10 Truths About the British Vote

Tunku Varadarajan's nails some key themes from the British election in his latest article over at The Daily Beast. The whole article is worthy, but here are some highlights:

"Gordon Brown is a dour, dithering, dry, dislikeable loser. He is Dukakis with a Scottish accent. So if (and when) he loses, let us rejoice."

"Second, we have in Barack Obama a president who values Britain as meanly as he might Arizona. OK, I exaggerate, but Obama is to the "Special Relationship" what Angela Merkel is to Greece (OK, I exaggerate again, but only a smidgeon.) So for those who say that there's anti-Atlanticism in the U.K., I say: "What about the anti-Britainism in Washington?"

"Seventh, the British electorate is genuinely unsure of what it wants, except for the fact that it's sure that it doesn't want more Gordon Brown (whom the voters never really wanted in the first place, and who was foisted upon them). Of all the world's major peoples, the British make the most unforgiving "foistees.""

"Finally, it would be nice to have the Tories back in power, if only because alternation—as any American will tell you—is the life-blood of a healthy democracy. From an American perspective, a Tory government is always useful, for it is only the Tories who subscribe, reflexively, to an unapologetic view of Britain as a great power. America—Hegemon, hyper-puissance, whatever—needs, in these times, a muscular smaller ally without a sidekick-complex. Only Britain fits the bill."

Today will be interesting on multiple levels for both the U.K. and the trans-Atlantic relationship. While Cameron doesn't really thrill the werewolf (although his wife is a beauty), Brown is so odious and flaccid, that watching his career (hopefully) flame-out, will be worthy unto itself. Still, this race is one for the history books.

Soul Coughing: Circles (Live)

In 1999, during the ascension of Napster, I got my first mobile music playing device. I think it was constructed by either  Rio or Creative Labs.  A whooping 16 megabits of storage space was offered. That equaled five to six songs. I recall going for long jogs through wooded trails that surrounded the New Hampshire boarding school I attended. The duration of the run would be determined by allowing each song to be played thrice. Ironically, this song was frequently loaded on that device.

The cascading impact of the crude spill in the gulf

The story about the BP sourced oil spill in Gulf keeps getting worse. The slick is now the size of Jamaica and will likely devastate the coast-lines the five gulf coasts states. Not only will be the economic and ecological impact be catastrophic for the folks in the region, but the werewolf thinks there will be very nasty macro-effects that will haunt the America psyche for a long-time to come. The two most sinister macro-legacies will be reinforcing the misbegotten notion in the minds of Americans that government intervention is increasingly required to handle everything. The current administration will most definitely use this to exploit that idea.

Additionally, America's energy policy will be screwed over as the over-reaction to this disaster will likely lead to massive reductions in the ability to exploit the abundance of domestic energy as irrational fears take over. This will increase America's dependence on overseas oil, screw over the domestic energy worker, hamper American owned energy interests, and further divert American capital away from strengthening our internal energy infrastructure. We will self-sodomize ourselves on account of the emotional scars this will cause.

Much like how Three Mile Island made American Luddites and retards  when it come to appreciating the beauty and benefit or nuclear, this gulf spill will open a Pandora's Box of contemptible retardation.

Lesser, but still severe effects of this spill will manifest themselves interestingly.

The anti-humanist environmental movement will get new life breathed into it. These people want us to have no kids, eat freeze dried air, attach sails to our cars, and live in homes fueled by love. They suck.  After a series a recent setbacks and the virtual debunking of global warming had rendered them impotent, it's unfortunate that they'll have a voice again.

There will be a spike in oyster, shrimp, and certain fish prices. The werewolf loves the fruits of the sea and has no money. The price increases will be felt. Not to mention the real tragedy of a regional American industry being virtually destroyed.

BP has really screwed the pooch. One wonders if they are competent and fit to operate. They lied, mislead and mis-managed this whole affair from the get go. $25 billion in shareholder equity has been wiped out. That's a mere glimpse of what we can expect when this is all done. Tens of billions more can reasonably expected to evaporate as the situation gets worse. This is all before the lawsuits, regulatory fine fines and consumer outrage kick in.  BP has invested millions heavily in making themselves the "nice energy company." However, it is clear that it was all sham. The werewolf loves the energy sector. He is pro-energy sector, pro corporate social responsibility and pro growth. BP has manged to blow the lid of these things through their vile display of incompetence.Compliance, proper risk management, foresight, and honesty are all part of the bargain of believing in the power of the private sector. BP doesn't erode all of that, however, they are dead to to the werewolf.

As mentioned earlier, the government, which has been asleep at the wheel, and Americans should learn to shun, will leverage this to further expand as the all consuming leviathan that dominates our lives.

The double standard of how the current administration is being given a pass is shocking, especially when one considers the mountains of unfair shit hurled at President Bush. (Granted Bush and his PR people should have fought back with more vigor).

This whole thing is tragic. The werewolf is convinced that the impact will be much more far-reaching than anyone currently realizes.

The White Wedding

Last Saturday the werewolf found himself in Staunton, Virginia. He was attending the "white wedding" of a business school friend he's written about previously. The werewolf learned that Staunton is the birthplace of the progressive movement's favorite segregationist, President Woodrow Wilson. Although small and remote, the foothills of western Virginia are stunning in their beauty, and the town had a quaint charm that made it tolerable for the 18-hour incursion. After clearing the vast jungle of DC suburbs, the drive itself was scenic and calming. It was also refreshing to catch-up with several friends from the days of business school yore.

The wedding itself was an experience. Despite the fact that he considers the recently minted bride a friend, it doesn't discount how unhinged she had become during  time that the werewolf has gotten to know her in pursuit of her fanatical quest to get married. True to form, the wedding was replete with several cringe worthy moments that were engineered by the bride's over-zealous approach to getting married. The bride allowed her hunt for a wedding dress to be filmed by TLC's garish display of bridezillaism "Say Yes to the Dress." Highlights from the episode include her bragging about how "pure she is on account of being of 31-year virgin," crying over not getting the dress she wanted, listening to hear mother boast about how she "deserves to wear white," and watching the mother trying to haggle over prices as if she was some sort of Turkish rug-merchant.  'Twas a creepy and weird spectacle. Anyhow, back to the wedding.

The werewolf went into this whole venture not knowing what to expect other than some sort of mild disaster. True to form, it manifested early. Firstly, the wedding was aggressively marketed by the bride as some sort of hyper-Southern wedding. The dress-code on the invitation was "classy southern." (It should be noted the bride was born and raised in Northern California and didn't move to the south until college and is about as southern as the werewolf is liberal.) However, "classy southern" gave the werewolf extra-cause to do what he loves and kick his sense-of-style into high gear. He sported a blended linen-silk patch pocketed tip-over sport coat, with a yellow-blue patterned English shirt, a Churchillesque dotted bow-tie, seersucker slacks, weathered brown loafers, and his favorite Labrador themed belt. When he strolled into to the chapel, he found himself in a sea of drab black and gray, ill-fitting suits; accompanied by ties so ugly he wouldn't donate them to the blind. It could have easily been mistaken for a funeral for someone not well liked. The only source of color was the shiny and monochromatic sea foam green tie and pocket square combos being worn by the groomsmen and the mossy colored dresses being worn by the bridesmaids.

For all of the hoopla and the television debut, the bride's dress was remarkably traditional and somewhat forgettable. The fringes/hem looked as if they be cut from the gnarled roots found at the base of an old tree. However, she had a veil that was larger than the mosquito nets that the werewolf had grown accustomed to sleeping under during his time in black Africa. I guess it's called a cathedral veil, but this should be donated to some mosquito relief foundation that could be used to cover the beds of a dozen African children. It (the veil) had it's own train that must have flowed several feet behind the bride. It was so large that it actually got caught by the friction caused by the carpet and become dislodged. The seething rage behind the brides eyes at this unforeseen imperfection was most amusing.

However, some of the most cringe worthy moment occurred during the actual service.Word like submit, submission, obey, and respect were thrown around with such casualness that the werewolf was expecting a slave auction to follow. One of the lines included how a wife "must submit to the man the way the man submits to the lord," and how "submission is the ultimate act of love." Early in their friendship, the bride used to claim the mantle of being a proud, strong, and independent woman. There was one point where the minister went into speech about how he had asked the bride and groom to write letters to the lord about what they see in each other and what they expect from their marriage. The bride was quoted "liking how [the groom] embraces his manhood." That line almost set the werewolf off. On the upside, the service was just shy of an hour in length which was a small act of respect for the attendees.

However, with every yin, there is a yang. Having briefly re-entered the 18th century during the service, the werewolf was pleased that the reception was held at a local vineyard where he could re-enter the modern world with the help of some grape-distilled lubrication. Although no hard-liquor was served, the wedding was pouring generous amounts of beer and vino. The local vintage was decent and became more-so after each glass was consumed. It was here that the werewolf lived up to his jack-assy reputation. He ended up running around the reception with his fly down for a good portion of the evening. It has shown up in a few photos and made him blush ex post facto. The food was edible, the cake excellent, and the band, a bunch of kids hired from UVA, played a great set list that ranged from Miles Davis to Jackson Brown to KC & The Sunshine Band.At one point, some body's little four year old was doing these strange Pilate's moves in the middle of the dance floor that warmed every one's hearts.

It should be further noted that the wedding photographer was this petite woman who was so pregnant that her stomach looked like a large breast with an erect nipple.

As much as he tried, the werewolf couldn't find the opportunity to land the back-handed compliment he was hungry to try. In hindsight, it was probably for the best that he held his tongue. He did walk away realizing that this whole exercise in getting married was about the bride living out her longstanding fantasy of being the center of attention at a wedding more than forming a meaningful and lasting partnership with the groom. It's sad that validation is sought through such superficial status and a single event. 

Here are a few pictures of the werewolf's attempt at "southern class." For the record, the chick in the first picture is 6'2 and the werewolf is not a midget.

Funny Friday: Spies Like Us "Press Conference"

The Psychedelic Furs: Pretty in Pink (Live)

I am not sure if it is lamenting how awesome pop rock used to be, or how extreme the mullets in this video are, but this video makes for some worthy viewing.

Original vs. Cover: I Have Not Been To Oxford Town

The werewolf has been on serious a serious David Bowie kick the past few months. Still, this competition between the Zoe Poledouris (daughter of Basil Poledouris, who composed the life-changing and epic scores from Conan: The Barbarian and The Hunt For Red October) vs. David Bowie is closer than it should be. In fact, the jury is hung on this end. Bowie classifies as Baron of the Bad-ass in the current rock n' roll pantheon. However, Zoe's voice is soothing, sultry and sexy. They are very close in rhythm and style, which confuses things a tad and hurts Zoe's cause. Also, it should be noted that Zoe's version was featured in the heinous cinematic translation of Starship Troopers, the classic Robert Heinlein novel.

David Bowie (Live)



Zoe Poledouris (Studio)

Funny Friday: Wedding Crashers "Motorboat"

In honor of the wedding the werewolf will be attending, this seemed appropriate.

White Wedding Looming

The Ahab of all bridezillas will be married this weekend in central Virginia. The werewolf accepted the invitation and will be driving down to view what is sure to be a spectacle of failed expectations, tortured over-planning and a strung-out groom and bridesmaids. The werewolf has been accosted by the bride-to-be on Facebook and via text messages reminding him of the event he has already RSVP'd to. Crazy is a gentle term for this gal. Anyhow, he is looking forward to catching up with several business school chums who will also be attending this tribute to madness. While it has been a rather heinous and in-glamorous year for the werewolf, he hopes his friends and colleagues will have sweeter tales of happiness and success to share.

The werewolf has been known to be an agent provocateur at times. The off-kilter nature of this friendly bridezilla has inspired him to come-up with the some sort of sincere back-handed compliment that will simultaneously flatter and confuse her about the wedding she tortured herself over. Sinister and slightly sadistic, perhaps. However, the anticipated flummoxed look on her face and her inability to make sense of it may make the whole exercise worthwhile. I hope I am not as evil as that sounds. Should you have any experience in this realm, please advise, as I am open to suggestions for the perfect delivery.

Chess: Nobody's Side (Elaine Paige)

Chess is the werewolf's favorite rock opera. He wrote how influential it was during his formative years last winter. Elaine Paige has an incredible voice, yet her hair in the video could be the subject of a serious essay. Some things are inexcusable. The archaic graphics are signature 80s in a pleasant way.

Some powerful and honest lyrics. They will not fail you.

Everybody's playing the game
But nobody's rules are the same
Nobody's on nobody's side
Better learn to go it alone
Recognize you're out on your own
Nobody's on nobody's side

Indiana Jones: Sword vs. Gun

Profound in its brevity.

Embrace the Dark Spirits! ASAP.

Although he loves a stiff drink, or five, the werewolf doesn't like vodka. He never has. The only only time he'll be caught drinking vodka is a Bloody Mary at brunch or when he mixes his own Stoli Doli's, but then again, that is just to confirm that the taste is correct. Beyond that he has run contrary to trends, and with the exception of gin in the spring and summer, the werewolf steers clear of clear liquors for the most part. Of course he keeps some on hand for his guests, as the number one rule of a good host is to offer your guests a good drink. However, the werewolf has no problem finding the bottom of good bottle of dark rum, whiskey, or bourbon. Gosling or Meyers dark rum, Jack Daniels and Blanton's are all necessities for the werewolf's sustenance. The Al Dente culinary blog, over at Amazon, has an excellent post about the taming of the irrational skepticism of dark spirits. It couldn't have come soon enough. For the werewolf has embraced dark spirits and the perfect cocktails they make long ago.

From the blog, below find recipe (along with some random facts)  for the ASAP. It looks perfect for a spring/summer day which are beginning to become the norm here in DC.


ASAP “This drink is first-rate and ready as soon as you want it to be”
Ingredients:1 1/2 ounces dark rum
1/2 ounce Falernum
1/2 ounce Tuaca
1/2 ounce fresh pineapple juice
Chilled ginger ale
Lime slice for garnish
Directions:1. Fill a highball or comparable glass three-quarters full with ice cubes. Add the rum, Falernum, Tuaca, and pineapple juice. Stir, but only twice.
2. Top the glass off with ginger ale. Stir once more. Garnish with the lime slice.
A Note: Falernum is a flavored syrup (think lime, with a bit of ginger and other accents) that sometimes has an alcohol content and sometimes doesn’t. Either version works here--check online if you’re having issues tracking it down in your local liquor or specialty food store.
A Second Note: Tuaca is an Italian liqueur that has hints of citrus and vanilla. The legend goes that it was created by Florentine Renaissance mover-and-shaker Lorenzo de' Medici. Tuaca became popular in the United States in the 1950s, after World War II servicement who had been stationed in Italy started asking for it as American bars.

Dear me. Alas. By Jove! A bloody Ghurka.

The Man Who Would Be King is perhaps one Kipling's most timeless tales. Adventure, greed, honor, hubris, aspiration, delusions of grandeur, exotic lands, frontiers, loyalty, empire, and courage are themes central to this remarkable tale. Translated beautifully onto the big screen by John Huston in 1975, it is one of the werewolf's favorite films. Plus, the chemistry between Connery and Caine only add to the power behind this magical and captivating film.



Watching it on VHS as a little boy, The Man Who Would Be King was a young werewolf's introduction to the legendary Gurkha of British Imperial fame. The concept of being a loyal soldier and obedient steward to a people not of your own nationality was alien to the werewolf, but the Ghurkas, along with the Swiss Guards at the Vatican are perhaps the greatest examples of non-mercenary soldiers becoming legandary attachments to the military lore of a land that is not their own. Billy Fish is the greatest cinematic example of the Ghurka captured by Hollywood. The werewolf has often wondered why these legendary Nepalese fighting men have been given short shrift given the lore and legacy that surrounds their contributions to the British Empire. Billy Fish, seen above, along with his beautifully constructed Gurkha English and his unwaveringly optimistic disposition have captured the imagination of the werewolf for over two-decades.

Billy Fish is also one of the werewolf's fictional men of honor. If you watch the clip below, (you'll have to get to about 3:46 for the scene), Billy Fish is given the chance to escape with some gold, and instead volunteers to go down fighting, despite the cause being lost. The sequence around his death is worthy of Tennyson. Even facing certain death, he optimistically wishes his commanders "many good lucks."

Kick-Ass: Unsuspectingly kicks some serious ass

Kick-Ass is simply one of the most gratifying cinematic experiences the werewolf has recently encountered. When he bought the ticket, he expected some C-grade shlock that would be remotely amusing and entertaining at times and help kill a portion of his weekend. From beginning to end the film is surprisingly captivating, thoughtful, shocking and human. At times it beautifully captures the awkward sexual tension and pubescent hormones of high school that have previously made teen comedy's like Superbad and American Pie  part of current pop culture and uncomfortably amusing in the most candid of ways. While being incredibly lewd, crude and rude at time, it has the ability to magically transition into a dark crime thriller with morally ambiguous overtones, while playing on twisted views of pain, justice, vengeance and doing right while being humanely insecure and barely competent. A reviewer wasn't too far-off when  he referred to it as Tarantino-esque at times. The werewolf would throw in a dose of John Woo for good measure. Never has the werewolf seen a film that went from being enjoyably un-serious to shockingly brutal and heavy in the blink of an eye, and managed to make the transitions smooth as silk. The film has too many layers to adequately cover in this review, yet the werewolf wants to give a paw-pump to the best part of the was watching the 11 year-old Chloe Moretz break some sort of cinematic barrier as she is the real show stealer. There is something new and jaw-dropping about watching some girl barely out of the 6th grade referring to a bunch of heroine pushers as "cunts" before ruthlessly and brutally dispatching each of them, while using curse words with a poetic edge the worthy of Richard Pryor. Cute, charming, shocking, jarring and unforgettable. Regardless of what kind of film you prefer, Kick-Ass is a real genre bender that will quickly develop a much deserved cult following, if not actually breaking into the ranks of the mainstream on some levels.

This film is not for the faint-of-heart or weak of stomach as it features several sequences of graphic violence, drug use, foul language, sex, masturbation, torture and even our little 11 year-old heroine getting brutalized.

Original vs. Cover: Come on Eileen. Dexy's Midnight Runners vs. Save Ferris

"Come on Eileen" is one of those pleasant lighthearted songs that frequently gets a bunch of drunks at the bar  singing along even though nobody knows any the words other than "Come on Eileen." Naturally, this makes a great karaoke song. The werewolf has a fond memory of being on the stage at Lonnie's doing a duet with his dear friend, Patrick Bateman, and being stunned by Bateman's -whose over 6ft tall- ability to incorporate a limbo move of extraordinary difficulty while both intoxicated and singing. Random, I know.

The werewolf doesn't know anything about Dexy's Midnight Runners beyond this song. However, the cover, by the ska band Save Ferris - named after the legendary campaign in Ferris Bueller's Day Off - is one of the most vibrant and satisfyingly energetic songs out there. The werewolf sometimes struggles with where his ultimate musical allegiance rests. He grew up in the 80s, loves the cheese-dick synthesized sound of that era, and has all of his first memories to the music of 80s one hit wonders on the radio. In many ways, being an 80s geek is a hobby for the werewolf. However, the werewolf was becoming more self-aware and coming of age during the ascension of ska. His inner rebel always loved the shameless juvenile prankster and carefree punk that embedded in the DNA of ska. Tough call. That being said, and despite fancying himself a purist, there is no contest between original vs. cover in this instance. Save Ferris and the ska punksters manage to take a great song and make it better. No question. See for yourself.

Here's the original version by Dexy's Midnight Runners.





Here is the Save Ferris Version.

Funny Friday: Model crashes and burns on runway