Don’t Talk To Strangers While Shopping

They’ll talk you into buying these shoes.

Unless you are over 50, unnaturally tan, and live in Palm Springs, you have no business putting these on your feet. I am none of the above and yet this frightening use of synthetic fur wound up in my closet. They screamed at me from the shelf at DSW when I was in a vulnerable state. They looked cheerful and fun. Why not just try them on? The fact that the toe is tapered to a point so severe even an elf couldn’t wear them, might have deterred me had a pair of strangers not happened by at the moment I was cringing in front of the mirror. “Oh my God, those are so cute! Where did you find them?” I pointed to the stack of satan’s footwear. “You’ve got to get those,” they gushed.

It wasn’t until a week later, when I unpacked at a hotel 500 miles from home, running late for a Bar Mitzvah in Los Angeles, that I realized just how evil those women were.

“You cannot wear those cougar shoes,” my son said. And by cougar, he was not referring to the animal print. The only other shoes I had with me were my utilitarian brown Clarks, just this side of lesbian loafers. I wore the cougar shoes.

All day long, I was sure people were staring at my feet and wondering why such a young, beautiful woman would want to look like Angie Dickinson at a Chippendales party. On top of that insult, by the time we left I was in such pain, I could barely toddle to the car.

These shoes are too offending to even put in my thrift store pile. I’ll have to find a special use for them. Planter? Doorstop? Lamp base? Dog chew? Maybe I should send them to Iran along with a case of Barbie dolls.

Nothing Says "Welcome Spring" Like A Hail Of Bullets

Today is a great day for lovers of rapacious violence, gratuitous sex, explosions and fire. Grand Theft Auto 4 hits stores worldwide like a greeting card from America. “Hello world, let’s come together over a little head-busting.”

The makers of GTA 4 announce that there are a few changes this time around. They’ve raised the skill level a bit. For instance, the main character can’t steal a car simply by opening a door. The game now requires him to smash the window and hot-wire it first. Good thinking. We don’t want to give our youth the false impression that stealing a car requires no skill at all.

If you pre-ordered through Amazon, you’re going to get a soundtrack CD, an art book (an art book?), a home safety-deposit box with key to hide your porn stash, and a GTA 4 black duffel bag for your next drop.

It’s interesting to note that in Australia the game has been edited to meet their standards. Is that Rugby thing all for show?

Reviewers are calling this the best Grand Theft Auto yet and sales are expected to top $400 million worldwide. Whoo hoo. GTA 4, just in time for summer, when temperatures are high, tempers are short, and kids have nothing better to do than simulate killing and mayhem for thirty-hour stretches at a time. Life is good.

Where Was The Last Place You Saw It?

Men are always misplacing things—the car keys, wallet, cell phone, the remote. But in Kinshasha, the capital of the Democratic Republic of Congo, the item currently topping the list is penis. They aren’t exactly misplacing them. According to reports, many Kinshasha men are suffering at the hands of sorcerers stealing or shrinking their penises. These masters of the dark arts are accused of using some super-mojo black magic to cast a spell (which, in most parts of the world, is known as “impotency”) to make off with the victim’s junk.

The allegations are serious for the thirteen "sorcerers" who’ve been arrested, mainly as a way to protect them until the panic subsides. A decade ago in Ghana, twelve suspected penis poachers were beaten to death during a similar harvest.

As I see it, there’s a very simple solution: a visit from the sorcerer who restores penises, the one known as Viagra.

Espresso Love

I can’t believe I’ve reached the point in my caffeine addiction where seeing a price of $1795 for an espresso machine doesn’t make me laugh at the very idea that someone would spend that kind of money on a machine that isn’t even self-cleaning. That’s more than I spent on my flat screen TV. More than I spent on my laptop. The espresso machine does nothing to simplify my life. It doesn’t organize my files or help me do my taxes. But, it provides a truly priceless service brewing shot after shot of deep, dark, pleasantly bitter espresso topped with that beautiful, frothy, chestnut head of crema. It produces that blissful aroma that says, “wow, this is going to be a great day!”

Now that I’ve read news on Wired.com that says periodic small shots of caffeine are better for me than large doses, I could classify that $1795 as healthcare.

Do I need more reasons? Look at the thing. It’s like the Viggo Mortensen of espresso machines. Gorgeous, well-proportioned, vaguely exotic. Not like those hulking machines that spread across half your counter, or the ones that are all switches and lights with a skinny little wand. This one has two substantial wands, one for steamed milk and one for hot water. How considerate. And I love the way the two knobs on the front seem to wink at me.

How much do I want this machine? How much do babies want milk? How much does a dog want to sniff crotch?

I know it's unfair to my current, hard-working Rancilio Silva, which may actually make a better shot. But how can it compete with its boxy utilitarian design that looks more like something I'd find in an auto repair shop? It had to know a machine like Rocket Giotto would come along one day.

Celebracadabra: Magically Delicious, or Magic Dookie?

How many more ways will the television industry find to exploit former child stars and fringe celebrities desperate for a paycheck and a chance to get exposure somewhere other than The Smoking Gun? That was my first thought when I heard about VH1’s upcoming show “Celebracadabra,” where seven vaguely familiar entertainers team up with professional magicians in a race to be crowned Ultimate Celebrity Sorcerer.

The prospect of these novices learning how to do anything more impressive than pulling a quarter from a toddler’s ear, or making a dollar disappear, seemed about as likely as George Bush learning to say nuclear.

But I wanted to be fair. So, I took a look at the premiere episode on the VH1 website to see how many ways I could find to make fun of it. I was so prepared to hate this that I’d already come up with a string of snarky descriptions. I kind of hate to waste all those, but it’s really not as horrendously bad as I’d expected.

When Carnie Wilson, C. Thomas Howell, Celebrity Fit Club Host Ant, Kid of Kid N’ Play, actress Lisa Ann Walter, comedian Hal Sparks and Kimberly Wyatt of the Pussycat Dolls put their skills to the test by heading out on the street to perform magic for jaded Los Angeles passers-by, some of them actually pull off some pretty convincing tricks. If non-magic folk can learn tricks of that quality within a day (as they would have you believe), why not push the envelope with something really challenging like “Celebrainsurgeon”?

It’s pretty easy to guess who will be the first eliminated, who will be kept around just for sex appeal, and even who will win. If this lasts longer than CBS’s one night-only “Secret Talents Of The Stars,” I predict good things for Hal Sparks’ career. Who? Exactly my point. But just wait.

Best WTF moment: Magic Coach Silly Billy (representing the children’s segment of magical entertainers) reminds us yet again why clowns scare the hell out of us as he gleefully begins sawing a full digit off his forefinger with an Exacto knife during a lesson with Lisa Ann Walter. It was either a really good trick, or he thought he was on appearing on the Jim Rose Circus.

Will I watch this show? Not unless I’m quarantined and my computer has exploded. But for those who enjoy this sort of thing, it’s nice to know it’s not quite the humiliation fest that the name implies.

“Celebracadabra” premieres April 27 on VH1, home of “Flavor of Love,” “My Fair Brady,” and “Scott Baio is 46 and Pregnant.” You can also look forward to “Celebrity Circus” coming to NBC this summer.

Reduce, Reuse, Rebel

Now I know what to do with that stack of promo tee-shirts collected during my years working in the music industry. Somehow too cool to get rid of, but too hideously ugly to wear even if they weren't all the default XL. London-based fashion designer Gary Harvey created this evening gown from 37 black logo tee-shirts—the kind you get at rock shows—cut up, hand stitched and turned into something no greasy haired, head-banger would be caught passed out in.

The tee-shirt dress is one of several clever, boundary pushing, eco-themed designs the former Creative Director of Levi’s Europe debuted at London’s Fashion Week.

Forty-two pairs of vintage Levi's 501s went into the making of this denim fetish gown.

The best use of Hawaiian shirts I've ever seen.

The Financial Times has never been called sexy before. Harvey used thirty copies to make this fragile frock.

Earth Day: Stuff To Ponder

Circuit Boards #2, New Orleans 2005 by Chris Jordan

Photographer Chris Jordan has created something both exquisite and disturbing in his collection Intolerable Beauty: Portraits of American Mass Consumption. Jordan explored the nation’s shipping ports, landfills, and industrial waste yards to capture bizarrely intricate images of the by-products of mass consumption. The result is a moving, eloquent and fascinating illustration of the complex problem of modern consumer society. What do we do with all the stuff? How do we consume less? Do I really need yet another cell phone upgrade?

Cell Phone Chargers, Atlanta 2004, by Chris Jordan

Check out more of Chris Jordan’s work at www.chrisjordan.com.

Still More Ways To Love The Earth

Been looking for a simple way to turn last night’s dinner scraps into next summer's Early Girl or Giant Belgium? Check out NatureMill, an eco-friendly product that lets you avoid the hassle and stink of the backyard compost pile. Using a patented dual-chamber technology, NatureMill heats, mixes and aerates your organic kitchen waste producing rich, loamy filth every two weeks for fertilizing your garden. A built-in air filter keeps things from getting too ripe. Just don’t confuse it with the coffee grinder.

If your eco-tastes run a bit more toward fashion, have a peek at this hard-working line of bags and accessories made from truck inner tubes by Colorado-based English Retreads. Stylish and durable.

Thirty-Six Shootings In One Weekend?

Hey, Chicago, spring is here. Time to get outside with your Glock and settle those scores that have been piling up all winter long.

Chicago police blamed warmer weather for a rash of gun violence over the weekend that left nine people dead and 27 injured. Has anybody heard of having a barbecue?

Fatal Idealism: The Pippa Bacca Story

In my mid-twenties I made a conscious decision to live an “uncensored life,” meaning I would ignore the inner voice that said, “mmm, maybe not.” The voice that was “keeping me from expressing my true creativity and fully experiencing life.” It was about the same time that I took a solo-backpacking trip through Europe to explore the bohemian life. I was desperate to get to Morocco. Cautionary tales of young women kidnapped and sold as sex slaves would not deter me. Somehow, I never made it farther south than Barcelona having acquired some French traveling companions and gotten sidetracked by the seemingly endless nights in Spain. In retrospect, I think that was for the best.

Having just read the tragic story of slain Italian performance artist Pippa Bacca, I am reminded of those times and my then fierce belief in my own immorality. Bacca, whose real name is Giuseppina Pasqualino di Marineo, set out on a trip from her hometown in Milan to hitchhike across North-Eastern Italy, Serbia, Bosnia, Bulgaria, Turkey, Lebanon, Palestine, Israel and Syria. She and fellow artist Silvia Moro would make the trip, at times together, at times splitting up, wearing wedding dresses in an effort to spread a message of peace, harmony and love among nations.

At first glance, it seems an incredibly foolish thing to do. But I do not think these were stupid women. I think these were women who valued truth, beauty and life itself, above all else. Women for whom the prospect of personal harm was less important than the opportunity to alter the course of human relations. An idealistic and perhaps overly simplistic idea, but certainly a worthy one.

“…man, like a small god, rewards those who have faith in him.” -Bacca and Moro in a statement on their website.

The sad reality is that trust and dreams are extremely fragile and exposing them to the world, risky. Three weeks into their journey, Pippa was brutally raped and murdered by a man who gave her a ride in Turkey; a sad, though not completely surprising, ending to their epic journey of hope.

In the end, perhaps Ms. Bacca succeeded in her quest. She will remain a symbol of faith in the human race, which will hopefully inspire greater unity and understanding among the people she hoped to reach. Her story becomes a far different work than she set out to create, but something that resonates deeply, a tragic poem that pokes at the heart and refuses to be forgotten.

Ride the Eye, or end world hunger? Tough call

With the current exchange rate, it cost a ridiculous ninety bucks for two of us to "fast-track" to the front of the line for a fifteen minute cruise above the London skyline. I could feed a starving Somali family for a month on that money, but at the end of the month, they'd be hungry again and I'd have missed this super cool view.


When that bit of dark humor came to me, it caused me to Google world hunger to look for ways to help. Here’s a link to Save The Children where you can find plenty of opportunities. Don’t let the fact that Paula Abdul and Randy Jackson are on their home page frighten you off.

Extreme Green

The "Daily Insight" newsletter from Yoga Journal arrived in my inbox this morning urging me to deepen my commitment to the environment. Try these tips, it cheerfully suggested. "Save 700 tons of carbon emissions per year by line-drying your clothes instead of using the dryer."

You mean live like a polygamy bride in Texas? I don’t think so. Besides, every time I try air drying clothes, they end up looking like they’ve been stored in a coffee can. That means ironing. Lots of it. Kind of negates the dryer savings.

I particularly like their next suggestion. “Generate your own electricity by purchasing a Human Power Generator, a stationary-bike-style contraption that allows you to supplement your electricity with your own sweat!”

I guess the exclamation point is supposed to say, "wow, that sounds like fun!" Hey, maybe you could get a few of those bikes and power the whole house. You could recruit a couple of neighbor kids. Start your own green child labor camp. It’s all for a good cause. You’re helping the environment and fighting childhood obesity. Everybody wins.

I can't wait to see the new Michael Graves line of washboards at Target.

In Honor Of National Poetry Month

Dear Author
We deeply regret having to use this form letter
Dear Author
Please be assured
Dear Author
Your work is like piss in the Pacific
Dear Author
It pains us to inform you
Dear Author
Your rent is due
Dear Author
Look unto the mailbox
from whence cometh your next soul-crushing rejection letter
Dear Author
Why do you continue to torture yourself this way?
Dear Author
What makes you think anyone wants to read your
pitiful little moments of joy or beauty or truth or revelation
Your ornate ways of presenting simplicity
Your overt attempts to turn the mundane
into a thing of transcendent glory
Your supine opine
Your so-called clever use of alliteration
Your assonance and innocence
Your metaphors and mindfucks
Your illusions and invitations
Your passions and sorrows
Pains and sufferings
Your subtle repetition for dramatic affect
Your attempts to build to a climactic rise and clever resolution
That will fall into the lap of your reader like a ripe plum
Surprising him with its satisfying sweetness
Bringing a small smile to the corner of her unwitting mouth
And carving the merest notch
into the edge of a heart brimming with discontent.
Dear Author
We wish you luck.

by Julie Hall, in celebration of a drawer full of rejection letters.

Naomi Should Have Waited A Week

One week into the grand opening of Heathrow’s much vaunted and equally vilified Terminal 5, my husband, son and I were scheduled to fly to London. I watched the news reports with growing concern, trying to figure out how I could cram a week’s worth of clothing into a carry-on. Ultimately, I was too lazy to attempt the Rubik’s Cube packing job and checked everything but my laptop. When we arrived in T5, we sailed through immigration and straight on to baggage claim where, within minutes, our bags appeared on the gleaming carousel. It was too good to be true. We enjoyed a coffee in the four-story tall architectural confectionary of glass and steel framing, and marveled at the details before walking about fifty yards to a taxi. No queue.

We had a similarly stress-free experience on the flight home, now two weeks into British Airways’ public relations nightmare. Our wait time at check in was less than five minutes. Security was a streamlined affair with zero wait time. And there was a sleek and modern coffee lounge within a few feet of our gate with an electronic screen giving up to the minute departure and boarding information. As an added bonus, when we got to San Francisco, our bags were there too.

Maybe the bugs are worked out, or maybe we just got lucky. I was just happy not to have to go "Naomi" on anyone.

Elvis Costello On The Telly

Brilliant songwriter, master of subtle wit and evincing charm, iconic wearer of hats, Elvis Costello has just been slated to host a weekly music-variety talkshow on Sundance Channel. Each hour-long segment will be a platform for talk about the arts (not limited to music) and will include performances from music to vaudeville. The legendary Elton John will executive produce the show and make frequent appearances. You’ll have to wait till December to get your first look at “Spectacle: Elvis Costello with…,” but I am already excited by this announcement.

More good news from Sundance Channel. They’ve just confirmed an additional season of another great music series “Live From Abbey Road,” which takes you inside the famed studios for an intimate look at recording sessions with some of your favorite, or soon-to-be favorite artists.

Comcastic? I Think Not

The trouble with our 40-inch Sony Bravia HD television is there are only about seven HD channels. And the rest of the 483 channels look worse than Philo Farsnworth’s first attempts at image oscillation in 1927. I don’t blame Sony. They’ve made a wonderful piece of technology, and the flat screen with its museum quality frame hardly obscures the books hiding behind it. It’s Comcast I’m angry with. The supposedly HDMI set-top box they gave me looks and behaves remarkably like the analog box I had before. Except the fan is even louder.

“Nevermind that HDMI cable,” they told me. “You don’t need it.”

Comcast claims it will soon be upgrading all the cable in our neighborhood and then, even the analog stations will be as clear as a mountain stream. In the meantime, to avoid the annoying fuzz, I’ll watch absolutely anything in HD. I’ve recently been filling in the gaps in my knowledge of historic battles. And you have not seen “Orangutan Island” until you’ve seen it in HD.

Consumer Libre! Wait, isn’t this April Fools day?

People in Cuba went to stores today to buy a host of items previously available only to foreigners and corporations. As they rush home to enjoy the newfound pleasures of pressure cookers, DVD players, flat screen TVs, computers and cell phones, should they be at all worried about the implications of the date chosen for this historic consumer revolution? Are they going to wake up to a couple of burly guys at the door with a moving van?

“You know all that stuff about a new Cuba? We were just kidding.”

Raul Castro is either boldly moving his country forward into the age of mass consumption, or he’s got a hell of a sense of humor.

Kryptomania

If all you’re missing to complete your collection of superhero paraphernalia is an Aquaman action figure in the original box, you are probably already waxing your back and packing your bags for this month’s New York Comic Con. The nation’s second largest pop culture convention is going down in Gotham City April 18-20. In case you’re wondering what to pack, check the FAQs under “Can I Bring My Sword?” The complete Costume Weapon Policy is there.

Outside In

It's not too early to be thinking about your summer festival plans. What is summer for, if not to get outside, shoulder-to-shoulder with your fellow terrestrials, soak up some sunshine, and lose yourself in the swirling nebula of euphoric intangibility that is Radiohead? To be fair, Radiohead is only one of three headlining acts set to thrill your musical senses at the Outside Lands Music & Arts Festival August 22, 23 & 24 in San Francisco’s Golden Gate Park. They just happen to be my favorite. Additional headliners Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers can be counted on for a super tight and thoroughly enjoyable rock show, and Jack Johnson is like the musical equivalent of a piña colada poolside. What’s not to like? Then there’s the rest of the line-up, a who’s who of awesomeness including Beck, Wilco, Ben Harper & the Innocent Criminals, Widespread Panic, Primus, Steve Winwood, Steel Pulse, and so on.

You can float through the weekend’s glorious sea of sound guilt-free as this is a green event complete with a solar stage, bio-diesel generators, composting, recycling and even a bicycle valet. Tickets are on sale March 30 and available only through the event’s website. A portion of the proceeds benefit San Francisco Parks and local charitable organizations.

Future Butterfly Past

Elliott Smith's music was startling in its genuineness. His haunting and deceptively simple melodies balanced on the knife edge of raw vulnerability. Such fragile beauty made his death in 2003 seem all the more shocking. The universe simply could not let such broken perfection slip away so early. And yet, there it was.

Chronicle Books' recently released photo-bio by Autumn de Wilde, an art director and photographer noted for her portraits of indie musicians, provides a poignant look at the life of a brilliant, though tragically troubled, artist. Interviews with friends, family, and fellow musicians provide context for de Wilde's intimate snaps. You'll also get a look at some of Smith's handwritten lyrics, personal ephemera, and insights from those closest to him. The book includes a 5-song CD of previously unreleased live recordings, along with a foreward by Beck and Death Cab For Cutie guitarist Chris Walla.

It seemed he only lived a day, but it was brilliant anyway.

Kooza: Enjoy it with some popcorn and Depends

According to the Cirque du Soleil website, the Canadian circus empire’s latest extravaganza Kooza is the story of “a melancholy loner in search of his place in this world.” Unlike some of the other spectacular Cirque performances I’ve seen, the story seemed to be an afterthought in this Vegas-style, adrenaline-fueled display. Gone was the poetry of past productions. Missing too, were the haunting melodies and ethereal music that seemed to float beneath the performers providing a protective shield from the unforgiving stage below. The music in this show matched the non-stop, heart-stopping agrobatics in which performers finished each act with a brazen snarl at the audience. Do not even think about eating that popcorn. Now, I’m not saying this wasn’t entertaining. It was as hot as a night at the circus gets. A total WOW-fest. It’s just that it felt a bit more like "American Gladiators" than Cirque du Soleil. The show reached its edgy peak during the Wheel of Death segment, in which a 1600-pound metal apparatus resembling a massive double-sided toy Wheel-O, rotates at ridiculous speeds under the power of two guys who look like the Wes Craven version of Dr. Seuss’s Thing One and Thing Two. They leap, vault, and even jump rope, in, out of, and on top of this thing in a way that defies the laws of physics and sanity. I was not surprised to read a disclaimer on the website that notes “due to the nature of these acts, changes in performers occur frequently.” I do recommend it, but bring earplugs and maybe a change of undies.

Crazy Ugly, Or Crazy Awesome?

I’ve always believed the reclining chair to be among the uglier innovations the furniture world, second only to the bean bag chair perhaps. But a recent pedicure experience at the spa forced me to rethink my anti-Lazy-Boy stance. I was ushered in to a small, dimly lit room, soothed by the sound of water bubbling over smooth stones and the gentle tones of some ambient music (is that a Darbuka?). And there it was, the throne of leisure, an overstuffed, umber-toned, velour, reclining chair. I settled in. It was not what I expected. There were no cigarette burns in the arms. No smell of stale beer. No Dorritos crushed into the seams. It was comfortable. No, it was plush. Then the foot rest went up and I was horizontal, gazing at the Celotex, taking back every unkind word I’d ever directed at the innocent Lazy-Boy whose only wish was to serve a tired backside. An hour later, I lay there, my arms elevated on a fluffy bolster, my feet soaked and pumiced, my toenails sporting a fresh coat of Persimmon Sunrise, trying to figure out where I could put one of these in my house. Then it hits me. I’ve got just the spot. I’ve been meaning to get rid of that bean bag chair anyhow.

Lash Lust

Is it the packaging that I love best, the thick orange tube that looks like I could use it to wave a 747 safely onto the tarmac? Is it the barrel-fat brush inside that promises to give my lashes more volume than a Marshall stack? Is it how fabulous Drew Barrymore looks in the commercials? Or the fact they can offer me so much drama and verve for under ten bucks? I have to say all of the above. I have never rushed out so fast to buy a product. When I got to Long’s and wandered into the cosmetic section, I had no problem spotting that orange road flare. And there was a Drew staring down at me from a well-placed piece of merchandising along with that exquisitely over-sized, fluorescent tube just daring me to choose anything less electric. How could I possibly say no?

True Lies

Here's a little piece I wrote for Dove's "Real Beauty" campaign. Directed, produced and edited by the good people at Foundation Post in Chicago.

Clinically Inane

For years it was strong enough for a man, but now apparently the makers of Secret antiperspirant have decided a man-strength pit guard just won’t do for today’s multi-tasking, kick-boxing, three-latte a day woman trying to bust her way through a tempered glass ceiling. The folks at Proctor & Gamble have kicked it up a notch. It’s Secret Clinical Strength, now with 20% aluminum just in case you were afraid those pesky sun-drenched vacation memories might bring you down in your golden years.