The unified age of humans. Wholistic.
Coming soon to a January near you.
Saturday, July 15, 2006
Friday, July 14, 2006
what if?
Tho I hate hate hate playing the "what if..." game, I have to wonder, if our country had a president more people could respect, would we still see the proliferation of totally ridiculous computer-edited video & audio clips of their words?
I can imagine a Bill Clinton cover of Cause I got High or Al Gore singing We are the Robots...
Here is GW's cover of Sunday Bloody Sunday. Then I also found a State of the Union Address, which I believe is a video / no soundtrack version of the excellent Cloud Cult mixup. (it's track 14, if you want to check it.)
Do you think the internet will be as cruel to our next Prez? Or do we just have to wait & see how much of a fuckup he will be?
I can imagine a Bill Clinton cover of Cause I got High or Al Gore singing We are the Robots...
Here is GW's cover of Sunday Bloody Sunday. Then I also found a State of the Union Address, which I believe is a video / no soundtrack version of the excellent Cloud Cult mixup. (it's track 14, if you want to check it.)
Do you think the internet will be as cruel to our next Prez? Or do we just have to wait & see how much of a fuckup he will be?
Thursday, July 13, 2006
maxin & relaxin...
... After a grueling and stupid car ride on monday, your heroes arrived in Whistler, British Columbia, to a sunny, breezy evening and a luxury hotel. A quick shower later, we were enjoying gin & vodka fizzies along with swell smoked salmon and delicious clams on the veranda...
A great start to a lovely vacation. Upon return to our hotel, your heroes had possibly the Worst Meal Ever at a Luxury Hotel. If there was a category to place a vote in, I would surely link it here.
Worst Meal Ever at a Luxury Hotel
The Westin Whistler boasts of the "mastery" and "award winning"-ness of its restaurant, and Executive Chef Hans Stierli. The first thing I said upon reading the menu was, "wow, someone ought to come in here and give this menu a valium or something" because of how All Over the place it was. Every dish had like 15 ingredients that didn't go together at all. BUT my lovely mother really wanted to try it, and we said, OK, lovely mother, this is your vacation too! So our first course was an asian salad, which came with a cup of hot & sour soup. My mother had a cucumber / crab gaspacho with a caesar salad. My father had a crab cake thing (Dungeness Crab Brandade with Thai basil-infused sweet corn broth). Let us never mention either of those dishes in the same breath again. The caesar was passable, the cucumber gaspacho was like eating a green-apple dumdum sucker in a melon suspension. Our asian salad was ok, too overdressed, but OK. The "hot & sour soup" was actually ONLY hot and sour. SOOO Sour, SOOO salty, and very spicy. They didn't lie at all about that one. It was a cup (more like 2/3 cup) of soup, and it was Hot and Sour.
Mistakenly, we had ordered a second course. My lovely parents wisely cut their losses, and moved on to the dessert menu.
Secondi: "Crispy Skate Wing with Crab Cake Roll, farmers' vegetable bundle on saffron sauce with organic orange reduction" (valium, I say!)
There is almost no way I can describe this fiasco. Scott says "reprehensible. It was a fucking crime." I said "EWWW."
It's best if we never talk about that again.
spa-de-oh-do-dee
refreshed, well fucked, well slept, we decided to explore the town of whistler. It is a lovely village, with the MOST COURTEOUS service-industry personnel ever. Again, if there were a voting category for that...
we had beer. we hiked. we talked. we never found Lost Lake.
we retired to our room, not qu
ite exhausted, but mos def worn out. I decided to go have a hot rock massage.
I ran into my parents, who took that picture of me waiting for my massage. It's the only photo we got on this trip that was worthwhile.
I came back from my massage to find Scott exhausted, under the covers. I roused him and we went for coctails & dinner, and we got back to the room around 11. I had started feeling pretty ill by this point, and Scott had been feeling pretty bad since after the hike.
We had a pretty rough nite of illness and stress, punctuated only by Mos Def's terrifying accent in 16 Blocks. The next morning, we awoke to the need to check out Canadia's vaunted healthcare system for ourselves.
It was cheap, it was effective, Scott was diagnosed with streptococcal bacteria infection, aka strep throat. It is an extremely contagious disease, and my throat was feeling pretty icky. I've never had it before (hah! until now!) so I didn't know how all y'all felt when you were complaining of having strep. I blew off your complaints of how bad you felt. I really apologize. And I love Canadian cough drops. They have a way more effective numbing agent. And Canadian child-proof caps are simple to open.
I love you, Canadia! Please get better chefs.
A great start to a lovely vacation. Upon return to our hotel, your heroes had possibly the Worst Meal Ever at a Luxury Hotel. If there was a category to place a vote in, I would surely link it here.
Worst Meal Ever at a Luxury Hotel
The Westin Whistler boasts of the "mastery" and "award winning"-ness of its restaurant, and Executive Chef Hans Stierli. The first thing I said upon reading the menu was, "wow, someone ought to come in here and give this menu a valium or something" because of how All Over the place it was. Every dish had like 15 ingredients that didn't go together at all. BUT my lovely mother really wanted to try it, and we said, OK, lovely mother, this is your vacation too! So our first course was an asian salad, which came with a cup of hot & sour soup. My mother had a cucumber / crab gaspacho with a caesar salad. My father had a crab cake thing (Dungeness Crab Brandade with Thai basil-infused sweet corn broth). Let us never mention either of those dishes in the same breath again. The caesar was passable, the cucumber gaspacho was like eating a green-apple dumdum sucker in a melon suspension. Our asian salad was ok, too overdressed, but OK. The "hot & sour soup" was actually ONLY hot and sour. SOOO Sour, SOOO salty, and very spicy. They didn't lie at all about that one. It was a cup (more like 2/3 cup) of soup, and it was Hot and Sour.
Mistakenly, we had ordered a second course. My lovely parents wisely cut their losses, and moved on to the dessert menu.
Secondi: "Crispy Skate Wing with Crab Cake Roll, farmers' vegetable bundle on saffron sauce with organic orange reduction" (valium, I say!)
There is almost no way I can describe this fiasco. Scott says "reprehensible. It was a fucking crime." I said "EWWW."
It's best if we never talk about that again.
spa-de-oh-do-dee
refreshed, well fucked, well slept, we decided to explore the town of whistler. It is a lovely village, with the MOST COURTEOUS service-industry personnel ever. Again, if there were a voting category for that...
we had beer. we hiked. we talked. we never found Lost Lake.
we retired to our room, not qu
ite exhausted, but mos def worn out. I decided to go have a hot rock massage.I ran into my parents, who took that picture of me waiting for my massage. It's the only photo we got on this trip that was worthwhile.
I came back from my massage to find Scott exhausted, under the covers. I roused him and we went for coctails & dinner, and we got back to the room around 11. I had started feeling pretty ill by this point, and Scott had been feeling pretty bad since after the hike.
We had a pretty rough nite of illness and stress, punctuated only by Mos Def's terrifying accent in 16 Blocks. The next morning, we awoke to the need to check out Canadia's vaunted healthcare system for ourselves.
It was cheap, it was effective, Scott was diagnosed with streptococcal bacteria infection, aka strep throat. It is an extremely contagious disease, and my throat was feeling pretty icky. I've never had it before (hah! until now!) so I didn't know how all y'all felt when you were complaining of having strep. I blew off your complaints of how bad you felt. I really apologize. And I love Canadian cough drops. They have a way more effective numbing agent. And Canadian child-proof caps are simple to open.
I love you, Canadia! Please get better chefs.
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