A Tale of Two Toms: Becket and More

How about this for an abrupt swerve from last week: the stories of Thomas A Becket and St. Thomas More, as told in “Becket” and “A Man For All Seasons.”

“Becket” (1964).  Peter O’Toole plays English King Henry II; Richard Burton plays Saxon Thomas Becket, an old drinking and whoring buddy of the King’s.  Becket warns his friend that the Church in England is getting too powerful: powerful enough to challenge his sovereignty.  Henry’s solution: to replace the recently deceased Archbishop of Canterbury with none other than Becket himself.  The only problem with this is that, once anointed Archbishop, Becket suddenly finds himself taking the job seriously. 

            Conflict arises almost immediately:  a priest is accused of molesting a young girl (some things never change).  The church insists that its priests are subject to canon law and courts, not garden variety civil law.  But the local noble takes the matter into his own hands and has his men murder the priest without even a trial – civil OR canon. Becket’s reaction, as appropriate for his position, is to excommunicate the noble.  In retaliation, Henry then has his own goons murder Becket in his own cathedral.  Bad move.  Becket was essentially murdered for following his conscience and acting as the Archbishop should have.
[Getting back to Oscar issues: the film won the Oscar for best adapted screenplay, although it had been nominated for eleven other awards.]

“A Man For All Seasons” (1966).  Fast forward a few centuries – same country, though – and a few Henry’s.  Now it’s Henry VIII’s turn to behave badly.  England needs a male heir, but Catherine of Aragon, the Queen, doesn’t seem to be able to pop out any babies – male or female – for the king.  He’s extravagantly played by Robert Shaw (probably best known from “Jaws”).  Paul Scofield, looking like the 60s version of Christoph Waltz, plays Thomas More, an upright, Catholic lawyer who is very calm and low key – probably never the King’s whoring wing-man.  A petty weasel, Richie Rich (no, not the cartoon character), played by a very young John Hurt, implicates More, who then goes on trial.  Only at trial, faced with the patent injustice of the situation, does More finally explode and express some form of passion.  Essentially More won’t bow to Henry and accept his “marriage” to the presumably more fertile Anne Boleyn.  So his head gets chopped off.
[Perhas the competition at the Oscars was less two years later, as this film won six Oscars, including best picture and best actor.]

            Adjusting the audience’s attention to the “chick flick” factors, “The Other Boleyn Girl”, with Eric Bana as H8, and Natalie Portman and Scarlett Johansson, was a juicier take on the same topic – indeed, with Thomas More completely absent from that film.

In the battle of Henry vs. Thomas, the Henrys are 2-0.  Each Thomas was motivated by his conscience, and took down just himself.  H8 at least went through due process, as farcical as the trial was.  I would imagine the distinction was due to a major event between the two.  Becket was executed in 1170, More in 1535 – and More himself cites the intervening factor, the Magna Carta, signed in 1215. 

In “The Meaning of Life”, Graham Chapman plays a Protestant man who explains to his wife that the difference between the Catholic and Protestant churches is that the latter allows him to put a condom on his “willie”.  The more accurate difference is that the Protestant church not only allows vicars to marry, but also for couples to divorce.  The church’s origin stems from H8’s need for a male heir.  

Tijuana Bibles

It’s time for sex again!  Or rather, to talk about sex, though not sex itself. 

I recall an episode of “L.A. Law”, in which one of the more lighthearted “let’s get ratings” segments involved an estate case with adult children who came across their late father’s “porn collection”.  “Erotica” is probably a more accurate word: these was not Hustler magazines but vintage erotica.  In fact, they had to bring in an “expert” who was extremely impressed with the quality of the materials the father had collected over the years, and assessed a substantial market value well above what we might expect for just a box of Playboys.  While I can’t recall if Tijuana bibles were mentioned, I do recall the clients were shocked and horrified – prudishly so – and adamant that the mother not find out.  Then at the end of the episode, the mother casually asked, “oh, by the way, did you ever find his porn collection?”

Tijuana Bibles were neither Mexican nor Bibles.  They were illicit/illegal comics produced between the 1920s and 1960s, at their peak in the 20s and 30s.  They ruthlessly parodied contemporary cartoon characters or flesh and blood celebrities, many of whom we no longer recognize (e.g. Mutt & Jeff, Katzenjammer Kids, Bringing Up Baby), but others – Blondie, Disney, Lil’ Orphan Annie, Archie, Popeye, Flash Gordon, etc. – are still on our radar today, though perhaps not as popular now as they were back then.  As they obviously violate copyrights and obscenity laws, many were produced offshore (thus “Tijuana”) and smuggled into the US.

They are extremely sexually explicit – and this was decades before Playboy (1950s) or hard core porn films (early 1970s).  Some are racist or anti-semitic, others are misogynistic:  woman are extremely horny, promiscuous, and eagerly drop their panties to total strangers for spending money.  Lots of them have a punch line, so to speak; one common theme is the woman who sells herself to a host of strange and horny men, only to realize after the fact that in each case the sex was sold on credit – her customers simply promised to double her price and pay her on their next payday.  Voyeurism, fetishism, even some bestiality and incest are all part of the fun. The target audience was most likely straight males, as lesbians are common, but gays are very rare, and the afore-mentioned misogyny which would probably not go down too well with female readers. 

The cleverness and art quality vary considerably, but most are fairly enjoyable to read.  The most interesting are the ones where a particularly talented or scrupulous (!) artist managed to mimic the original cartoon style almost exactly (e.g. a Blondie cartoon was dead on).  At the other extreme are crudely drawn characters who are still recognizable even if the art style was nowhere close.

Various websites have some scanned in, page by page (most are 8 pages, but there are some 9 and 16 page variants), but an excellent hardcover compendium is Tijuana Bibles: Art and Wit in America’s Forbidden Funnies, 1930s-1950s, by Ron Adelman.  Not only does it have a huge and impressive selection, the author’s comments are excellent at explaining some of the more obscure source material or analyzing some of the dated references.  The former was more necessary than the latter; most of the language was fairly simple to figure out even if slang terms have changed over the years.  In fact, part of the charm is observing how people at that time referred to various sexual organs or acts.  

Young people often seem to have this arrogant idea that sex is exclusively proper for people their own age: wrong for younger ones and downright disgusting for anyone their parents’ – or, shock horror, GRANDPARENTS’ – age.  I don’t think anyone wants to imagine their grandparents having sex, even if you have to figure they were having it (and conceiving our own parents) when they were our age, not 10 minutes ago.  The obvious answer to this is that if our ancestors weren’t as horny as they were, none of us would be here today.  The less obvious answer, but shown by Tijuana bibles, is that yes, people have always been horny and enjoyed sex.  These cartoons are enticing evidence of that.  Enjoy.

Logan's Run

In his comedy routine, Texan comic Bill Hicks (R.I.P.) sometimes ridiculed his fellow Texans.  When close-minded locals learned that he was in fact, literate, he joked, they ominously growled, “Looks like we got ourselves a ‘reader.’”  Yes, one of those weird people, like me, who read books – possibly without pictures in them.  

My buddy Dave reviewed a movie, “Logan’s Run”, and I managed to find the original paperback at a used book store, written by William F. Nolan and George Clayton Johnson.  I breezed through it fairly quickly, and then watched the film from Netflix.  Both are…OK….and certainly bear some repeating.

In the distant future, America has become another one of those superclean totalitarian societies run by a computer.  Everything is taken care of, we have no wants, fears, worries, or wars.  Naturally, anything this perfect has to be too good to be true, so what’s the catch?   Everyone has to commit suicide at age 30 (age 21 in the book).   As it is, this somewhat draconian solution to overpopulation has been meekly accepted by the majority of the population, who have been told, and believe, that they will be “renewed” (reborn).   A small minority of people (“runners”) decide to escape when their age comes up, so an elite force of “Sandmen” chase them down.   The runners talk of a place called “Sanctuary”, a faraway, possibly mythical, place where the computer can’t reach and they can live out their days until they die a natural death.  Even the Sandmen aren’t quite sure if Sanctuary truly exists.

One Sandman, Logan, is assigned to find Sanctuary, by teaming up with a female runner.  However, he begins doubting the official story and quickly decides to run himself, especially since his own time is up anyway; the Sandmen are not exempt from the euthanasia requirement (in the movie, the computer artificially ages him so he can credibly infiltrate the runners).   Francis, Logan's former partner, then turns into his nemesis, chasing him down.

Book vs. Movie.  The movie has Michael York (looking like Ashton Kutcher’s father) as Logan, and Richard Jordan (Duncan Idaho in “Dune” and General Armistead in “Gettysburg”) as Francis; even the much-desired Farrah Fawcett has a minor role.  The plot is essentially the same at the beginning but diverges considerably as the story goes on, with completely different endings.  Normally I can’t necessarily recommend reading the book when a 90 minute movie is available, but in this case the differences between the two and the short length of the book make the repetitive effort somewhat worthwhile, at least in my opinion.   

The Island.  This is a much more recent film which actually takes “Logan’s Run” as its essential plot, but veers off considerably from there (much as “Total Recall” zoomed off from “We Can Remember It For You Wholesale”).    Ewan McGregor and Scarlett Johanssen star in the recent film.  It’s creepy and disturbing, but definitely exciting.

Gibson SG

Note.  This blog was originally published on June 20, 2008.  In the process of transporting my earlier blogs, I accidentally deleted this one.  I might as well rewrite it anyway.  Moreover, I updated the blog in 2021 for some edits, including my current collection.

Gibson’s most famous guitar is the Les Paul, designed by jazz guitarist Les Paul himself.  However, that model wasn’t selling too well in the late 50s – there was no Jimmy Page or Eric Clapton around to popularize it back then – so Gibson tried something else.   In addition to the Flying V and Explorer, they tried changing the body on the Les Paul itself.  First they gave the body a second cutaway, then they sharpened the edges on those cutaways, and by 1961 a slimmer, lighter, nastier looking guitar was born: the SG.   The SG Standard has been Gibson's best selling guitar, and one of the few guitars in continuous production since it began in 1961.  

A few points about the Les Paul before I go on.  The Les Paul has a single cutaway at the base of the neck.  Like other human primates, I have opposable thumbs.  I like to be able to reach both sides of the neck when I’m soloing at the end of the fretboard.  Apparently the lead guitarists who favor Les Pauls over SGs seem to disagree.  Anyway.   Another issue I have with the Les Paul, relative to the SG, is its weight.  It’s all well and fine for sustain (e.g. Nigel Tufnel) but as Jimmy Page himself noted, when he reminded his fans that the first Led Zeppelin album was recorded with a Fender Telecaster, even a Stratocaster can sound heavy if the Marshalls are overdriven hard enough.  

The SG is one of my five current guitars.   My current SG is a 2013 Standard, for which I tried in my prior SG, 1 1989 '62 Reissue.  In 2013 Gibson didn't make a 61 Reissue, so the Standards are very close to 61 spec, especially the neck joint, the most noticeable difference being the crown on the headstock having a slightly different location.  My 2013 is ebony, better known as black. My prior and first SG I bought in May 1989.  It was ’62 Reissue, later modified with Tony Iommi model chrome pickups.  It was cherry, the only color it came in.

Specs:  In Standard format, it has two PAF humbuckers, nickel hardware, a slim double cutaway body, a rosewood fretboard, and trapezoid inlays.  The guitar is VERY light, so much so that the neck is heavier than the body and tends to drop down.  It has a bright but strong sound and excellent access to all 22 frets.  The Reissue neck joins the body closer in than the Standard, for a better feel.

            Of course, the most notable element of the SG is its shape:  the cutaways are more pronounced than on the Melody Maker or Les Paul Junior (with the top one being slightly bigger) and even give a sort of “devil horn” look, especially appropriate for AC/DC and Black Sabbath. 

Models.  Since its introduction in 1961 to the present, the SG has been the one guitar Gibson makes which has been in continuous production.  To go into all the different models would be impossible, so certain models and trends are worth noting.

SG Standard.  The “standard” model, but not the most basic.   Over the years the SG has been offered, this has been the model most consistently offered. This had two humbuckers, a bound fretboard with pearl inlays (usually trapezoid but sometimes block), a pickguard, 4 knobs (2 volume, 2 tone, each controlling one pickup), a 3-way selector switch, and the crown inlay on the headstock.  The “standard” color of the Standard is called cherry – other colors have varied in availability, but included ebony, natural, and tobacco sunburst - but I’ve noticed that this color varies considerably.  My own guitar is more like a deep, uniform maroon color, whereas some others of the same model are considerably brighter, even approaching red, or looking more like brown possibly due to either age, poor paint quality, or both.  The degree to which the wood grain shows through the cherry finish also varies, with mine not showing at all.

           

SG Custom.  This was the deluxe model.  It shared the diamond inlay, bound headstock of the Les Paul Custom.  Like the SG Standard and Les Paul Custom it had a “standard” color – in this case, off-white compared to the LPC’s black – but was still available in other colors.  It had three humbuckers, sometimes mounted immediately next to each other and sometimes spaced slightly apart.  The Custom has also come in ebony and other colors, and sometimes with two humbuckers instead of three.  They all have the block inlays, diamond inlay on the headstock, and gold hardware.  

SG Special & Junior.  These were the economy models, the Junior having one pickup and the Special having two.  These were sometimes the P90 single coil pickup instead of the humbucker.  They had a bare headstock, and a nonbound fretboard with dot inlays (though some 70s model Specials had block inlays).

‘62/61 Reissue.  The “SG-62” was introduced in 1986, and eventually changed to the ’61 reissue.  This is the model I have, the model my buddy Baron had (which is what inspired me to purchase it), and the model my friend Leonard has, who was inspired by me to purchase his own.  These are all in cherry and are set up to ‘61/62 specs with stop bar tailpieces, cherry finish, and bound rosewood fretboards with trapezoid inlays.  The major difference between this model and original ’61-62 models is that the latter were equipped with a unique Gibson vibrato system operated by springs, whereas the reissue simply has the stop bar tailpiece.  The Gary Rossington signature SG – a replica of the guitar he played on “Freebird” – has the vibrato and is meant to be a closer approximation of the SG as originally issued.

Doubleneck.  The EDS-1275, with a 12 string on top and a six string on the bottom, had been out of production when Jimmy Page popularized it in the 70s as a way to perform “Stairway to Heaven” onstage.

Pickguard.  From 1961-66 and from 1973 onward, the SG had a small wing-like pickguard to the right of the pickups (the Junior had its own special pickguard).  From 1967-70 the guitars had a larger pickguard which surrounded the humbuckers (most often seen played by Angus Young in the 70s and Robby Krieger).  Oddly, in 1971-72 the SG had the Les Paul’s triangular pickguard (e.g. Tim Sult of Clutch).  The current “Standard” features the ’67-70 large pickguard.

70s. In the 70s the models proliferated, with lots of weird stuff going on.  Les Paul pickguards, natural finish models (“the SG”), sunburst finishes, the neck was tilted parallel to the body, the bridge design changed, the body was a bit larger without as much beveling, Super Humbuckers were introduced, and the triple pickup spacing on the Customs varied back and forth.  Clearly this was a period when Gibson was experimenting heavily on this model, sometimes switching back to earlier features as it learned the hard way what worked and what didn’t.

Players.  Many different players have been seen, from time to time, playing SGs.  Eric Clapton played a stylishly painted SG in Cream, Frank Zappa had been an SG player, and Gary Rossington of Lynyrd Skynyrd played one on “Freebird”.   Mick Box of Uriah Heep, Jerry Garcia of the Grateful Dead, George Harrison of the Beatles, Mickey Jones of Man, Pete Townshend of the Who, John Cipollina of Quicksilver Messenger Service, Frank Hannon of Tesla; plus Jimmy Page, Don Felder, Slash, Frank Hannon, and Alex Lifeson have all played the doubleneck version.

The big two are Angus Young of AC/DC and Tony Iommi of Black Sabbath - since both of these bands are tied as my favorite, it was a no-brainer that I had to have this guitar. 

Iommi only started using his SG when his main guitar, a Stratocaster, crapped out (before Sabbath even started making albums) – but once he started, he never looked back.  He started using it on the first Black Sabbath album, and has been exclusively playing SGs on every Black Sabbath album and on every tour ever since.

Angus Young has noted the “devil horn” shape of the SG’s body, and AC/DC, for their part, have no less than 3 songs referring to “hell”: “Hell Ain’t A Bad Place To Be” (From Let There Be Rock), “Highway to Hell” (from Highway to Hell) and “Hell’s Bells” (from Back in Black).  Not only does he use the guitar exclusively, but he is prominently pictured on the band’s album covers with his SG.  On If You Want Blood (You Got It) (the live album), he’s impaled by the guitar.  Angus Young, even more so than Tony Iommi, has been the #1 publicist for the Gibson SG among all musicians (he should get a royalty for every SG sold, even if it isn’t to an AC/DC fan).  No one is more closely associated with the guitar, or has prominently displayed it as often or widely, as him.

In March 1989, I was trying to work out a deal to sell my Japanese made Fender Stratocaster in France and buy a US made vintage reissue Stratocaster.  At the same time, I borrowed a Gibson SG ’62 reissue from my friend Baron in March 1989, and two months later I was the proud owner of my own.  It had a much stronger sound than the Strat, so it was more in line with Sabbath (learning “The Warning” at that time) and AC/DC.  Clearly, the fact that Black Sabbath and AC/DC were my two favorite bands, had a major impact on my decision.  The Jap Strat was traded for a US Strat, which was traded for a Mexican Strat, and I got an Explorer in 1990, but the SG is still here.  To these I added a Gibson Les Paul Studio Pro in black cherry pearl, and a Gibson Firebird V in ebony (with a black pickguard), which has the Steinberger tuners.  

The Oscars

Last weekend we watched the Oscars, hosted this time around by Seth McFarlane, the handsome and charming yet sometimes nasty creator of “The Family Guy”, “American Dad”, “The Cleveland Show”, and most recently the live action film “Ted”.  In fact, Ted himself showed up with Mark Wahlberg, to present one of the awards.   The Academy’s choice of SM to host indicates a strong effort to attract younger viewers, who tend to prefer SM’s more edgy and controversial humor.  And he did much better than James Franco and Anne Hathaway.  Steve Martin and Billy Crystal might as well be Johnny Carson, Milton Berle or Charlie Chaplin.

Nominally the Oscars should simply be a series of presentations for awards, but the ceremonies add in a few extras.  Unlike the Grammies, where playing an entire song (short of “Freebird” or “Echoes”) is feasible, the Oscars can’t really give us a whole movie.  So they give us some song and dance, “Chicago”, a tribute to James Bond, and lots of inappropriate humor from McFarlane.  I liked the sock puppet adaptation of “Flight” and Captain Kirk’s early “intervention.”

It seemed to be a running battle between “Argo”, ”Lincoln”, and “Life of Pie” for the top award; just when I thought “Lincoln” would win, the award went to “Argo” or “Pie”.  However, I was surprised to see Christoph Waltz win yet another Oscar (supporting actor) for “Django Unchained”, and then to see Tarantino himself win.  Sometimes it appears they belatedly hand out the gold statues for moviemakers (e.g. Peter Jackson) who they’ve been trying to ignore all these years, only to finally relent and say, “ok, we can’t really ignore you any longer.”  The Rock’n’Roll Hall of Fame seems to work the same way.

Popular music – as shown at the Grammys – seems to be a celebration of mediocrity.  The winners all fall within a very narrow range of musical styles and add virtually nothing new to the mix.  They’re rewarded for an absence of substance rather than originality.  The Oscars, however, do seem to reward innovation and risk-taking.  Giving Jean DuJardin the Oscar for “The Artist” – borderline pretentious, but ultimately very clever and charming movie, so I can applaud that choice.  The Academy has a particular weakness for artsy/pretentious films, which would be like the Grammys awarding the Moody Blues or King Crimson.   Any super impressive blockbuster which knocks everyone off their feet – “Titanic”, “Ben Hur”, etc. – can expect to get substantial recognition at the Oscars.  Very often the movies they reward are in fact some of the better ones, and those insipid romantic comedies – the movie equivalent of Justin Bieber and Nicki Minaj – are completely off the radar.    Unfortunately, so are regular comedies as well, no matter how edgy or original (e.g. “Ted”).   However, by letting “Ted” and Wahlberg present an award, the Academy was giving them at least tacit recognition.  “We feel bad about not even nominating you – because we focus on dramas and won’t even create a separate category for comedies – but we’ll throw you this bone.”  For the Grammys to do this, we’d have to see Dave Brock (Hawkwind) or Robert Fripp (King Crimson) present an award.  I’m not holding my breath.   But this is why I can’t stoke up the contempt I have for the Grammys, and throw that mental monkey poo at the Oscars too.  They’re not perfect, but they do a MUCH better job. 

Probably my favorite Oscar night was watching “Saving Private Ryan” compete against “Shakespeare In Love”.  You can guess which film I was rooting for.

New Cars and Rentals

The choice and selection of new cars these days (2013) is frustrating.  On one hand, with a new car, you do get the satisfaction of knowing you’re the original owner.  Everything is fresh and new – there’s even that disturbing plastic smell (which I really don’t like).   You have a factory warranty and the negligible likelihood of any problems – especially from an import.  And there are always new features being added each year, some of which strike me as “wipe-your-butt” and not that useful (e.g. reverse camera).   Of course you have to get used to the new controls and everything.

On a cold, rainy morning, November 22, 1992, I bought my first new car: a 1992 Pontiac Firebird, at King Pontiac in Gaithersburg, Maryland, near the corner of Shady Grove Road and 355.  It was black-on-black, with power windows, door locks, remote trunk release, and T-tops.   And it had a V8, although it was a 170 horsepower, throttle-body injected 5.0L.  Not NASCAR, NHRA or Indy car worthy, but certainly enough torque and oomph to get the car out of its own way.   I could pop the hood and count 8 spark plug wires, 4 on each side of the block.  The TBI was kind of weird: the same large circular air cleaner with snorkel you would expect on a carbureted engine, but this was fuel injected.   I could juice it up:  Mobil 1 synthetic oil, K&N air filter, Dunlop SP4000 tires, and a Hypertech PROM chip promising (!) another 30 HP.  I babied that car, and it was in stellar condition when I sold it to my boss in 1995 when I bought my Formula.  After a Cavalier and a Tercel – both boring, economy cars – finally I had my own car that I picked out myself.  It was MINE.

That night, when it got dark, I turned on the headlights, and the lighting was red, not green.  My dad was also impressed: it’s like the Batmobile, he said.  The pop-up headlights were also cool. 

Sadly, circa 2013, there is no Pontiac anymore, and Pontiac itself hadn’t sold a Firebird since 2002.  Chevrolet sells its Camaro, but even the V6 model is $26k, and the V8 SS model is $35k or more.  Although it’s obviously based on the ’69 model, the tiny windows are a symptom of too much modern and not enough retro. It also bugs me that the SS logo is off-center with the bow-tie still in the middle.  The original Camaro SS had the “SS” dead center in the grille.  For that matter, so did the Nova SS and Chevelle SS.

Dodge sells the Challenger: R/T with 5.7L Hemi (370 HP) is $30k, SRT8 with 6.1L Hemi (420 HP) is $40k.  The Challenger is an excellent copy of Dodge’s least attractive car, whereas the Charger – which also comes in the corresponding R/T and SRT8 configurations with similar engines and price tags – is a sedan.   Nope, they weren’t going to copy the ’68-70 model which narrowly lost to the ’68 GTO for Motor Trend car of the year.

The Nissan Altima – which I rented for some time – has impressive acceleration (even in the 2.5L model) and a killer stereo.  Too bad the styling gets an F:  indistinguishable from a Chevy Impala, Toyota Camry or Honda Accord.  Of the economy cars, I find the Honda Civic coupe to be the nicest looking of the 2013 crop.  It’s semi-sporty without being embarrassing. 

Rental Cars.  Part of the problem with rentals is by the time you get used to the controls and idiosyncrasies of the car, it’s time to turn it in.  And they never rent cool cars: sorry, the V6 Mustang and V6 Charger don’t do it for me:  please let us rent the GT and R/T models.   While I realize the insurance and business models heavily disfavor renting classic muscle cars, it’s a major shame that – to my knowledge – you can’t rent General Lee Charger R/Ts, ‘70s Trans Ams, ‘70s Corvettes, 60s GTOs, or similar cars.  Whoever manages to find a formula for that which works – possibly short-term rentals with some higher scrutiny of the prospective renter’s driving record and personality profile – could stand to make a considerable amount of money.  The image of a Hemi Road Runner wrapped around a tree and its 16 year old bonehead driver thrust through the windshield, DOA, is probably too easy to imagine. 

For that matter, wouldn’t it be nice if you could go to a car dealer, and have a choice not merely of the current model year or the prior year’s leftovers, or whatever used cars happen to be on the lot, but put in an order for any model year, any model.  The dealer could scan the Internet throughout the country for suitable models.  A revamping of the restoration industry could be a nice investment for someone like Warren Buffett, Bill Gates, or Paul Allen.  GM already has “Restoration  Parts”, a Taiwanese company makes brand new body shells for many 60s muscle cars.  A factory which could splice new bodies and recycle a host of unrestorable donor cars to be cannibailized, could essentially churn out modern-day versions of classic cars.  Sounds like a lot of work, but possibly a great operation if it could be done.   Dream on….

Facebook, Myspace, LinkedIn, Etc

Like so many others in the US, I’ve joined Facebook.  I even play Mafia Wars, though I’ve resisted the urge to play Farmville or the other Zynga games.  MW takes up enough of my time as it is and has its own quirks and frustrations.

The first such site I joined was Myspace, back around 2004, at the suggestion of my then-secretary Jennifer, who no longer seems to be there….or on Facebook for that matter (see below).  I never found it to be the jailbait meat market as the cynics claimed, but then again maybe I just wasn’t trying hard enough to use it as a de facto dating site.  Nowadays it seems 99% of the use for it is bands trying to get exposure.  A lot of times I’ll try to find a band’s website only to be directed to their Myspace page.  But I’ve never seen a band relying on that to be an improvement on a well-designed private web site. 

Tagged.   I originally joined this in 2006 at the suggestion of an ex-fiance who then promptly closed her account after a few tags exchanged for a few nanoseconds.  This site allows you to send “tags” (small box-like comments) or full “comments”.  The tags vary from “Happy Birthday”, “Happy Valentine’s” and other holiday-themes, to “showing love” or humorous.  The comments often seem to be an endless string of pictures of flowers, food, etc. or a warning that so-and-so is a scammer.  I ignore most of them.

            I started Mafia Wars on Tagged, then followed it over to Facebook.  I met my current GF on Tagged, as it is.  40% of the “women” on Tagged seem to be faux porn stars (easy to imagine 50 year old fat guy posting porn girl pics), 40% seem to be overweight black women calling themselves “Chocolate Goddess” and similar boastful names, and 10% ….REAL people.  My GF was one of those real people.  She still is.

Facebook.  This site attracts many family-oriented people like my brother who avoided Myspace like the plague.  Among the posts I see are tons of “you know you’re a Mom when” and some comment about vomit or sick kids.   You know who you are.  Please exercise discretion and only post either extremely brilliant or extremely outrageous stuff.  24/7 coverage of your kids’ shenanigans gets old quickly.   My sister has finally learned this.

            The political posts zone me out.  Listen here.  You may be “preaching to the choir.”  Persons converted?  ZERO.  You may be trying to convince Romney voters to support Obama, or vice versa.  Persons converted?  ZERO.   You may be trying to convince people who are only on Facebook to play Zynga games.  Persons converted?  ZERO.  Does anyone know anyone else who changed their vote in 2012 because of a post they saw on Facebook?  Or by 100 posts in the same day by the same person with the same basic message?  I didn’t think so. 

            Memes etc.  I like some of these. 

            “Y U NO”.  My favorite was: “Air Force: Y U NO PT?”  Response: “Army: Y U NO SMART?”

            “One does not simply” Boromir (Sean Bean) explains why [Mordor cannot be entered.]  Note: this is NOT Ned Stark.

            Thoughtful Raptor, Success Baby, Confused Jackie Chan, Smug Willie Wonka (Gene Wilder) are some other good ones.  Again, please exercise discretion.

I resisted the urge to blog about Mafia Wars earlier because it struck me that either you’re already playing it and know enough about it, or don’t play it and don’t give a s**t.  So I’ll keep my comments brief.  It started out with just a New York location, but before I got bored with it, they expanded to Cuba.  Ok, good – completely new jobs, new items, etc.  That kept my interest.  Then they added Moscow, Bangkok, Italy, Chicago, Las Vegas, Brazil, and London.  It’s always changing and adding things, and I like getting new and badder-ass items.  But I agree it can be “a colossal waste of time.”

Linkedin.  This is the serious, professional hookup site, networking for real people and not trolling for underage girls, and it has no games (yet).  The posts tend to be “so-and-so has a new job”.  Very dull, but it’s meant to be.

Off the Grid.   Some people “don’t believe” in Facebook.  It’s a free country, and having a Facebook account is not mandatory.  It can be a complete waste of time – especially Zynga games.  So I can’t say I blame those people who stay away from it.  There are some good reasons.

            However, one reason I don’t buy is this dedication to maintain zero presence on the Net and stay “off the grid”.  When I hear this I picture John Malkovich’s character in “R.E.D.”, the recent Bruce Willis shoot-em-up which was criminally underrated.  If you haven’t seen it already, do it immediately.  You’re welcome.  ANYHOW.  If you’re dumb enough to post pics of yourself committing crimes or advocating the violent overthrow of the US government, maybe you deserve a SWAT team knocking down your door.   But I’ve yet to hear of someone sent to Guantanamo Bay for playing Farmville.