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 March 18, 1998 In this issue: |
 Sunny Day The View To Askew Post-haste Trep Away Rebop |
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It's a perfect day here at Department Lemur, baby. The weather is so
beautiful that we've opened the building's retractable roof and pulled the
cover off the pool. You should see all of us, lying on air mattresses,
sipping Cuba Libres and swimming to the side to answer your mail. On the
other hand, perhaps you shouldn't see us - the glare from our translucent
white skin would likely blind you.
At any rate, here's the pop culture report for this luminous spring week.
By the way, an NT Server won't float, no matter how much it resembles
Noah's Ark. Hear my words, for they are true. |
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ASKEW A-GO-GO
I wrote a fan letter to Kevin Smith once. It is, to this day, the only fan
letter I've ever written. I had just seen the New Jersey-based
writer/director's sophomore effort, the John Hughes homage "Mallrats," and
was struck dumb by the dizzying pace of his dialogue. Though Smith achieved
a much more concrete critical and popular consensus with his first and
third films - the workingman's epic "Clerks" and the oddly touching
"Chasing Amy" - "Mallrats" still seems more genuine to me, a blue
valentine to Molly Ringwald, fellatio humor, the X-Men and other facets of
the junk culture that, incomprehensibly, shaped him into a poet. The
official site of Smith's production company, View Askew, is more than a fan site or a blatant
self-promotional tool. It is a rather complete look into the life, loves,
friends, triumphs and failures of one of America's most important young
storytellers. And you know something? Smith answered my letter, God love
him. Nooch. |
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DELIVERED BY MORAL HANDS
Just-So Literary Postcards is just one free
postcard site of roughly one million and six, but the Passenger loves and
respects it above all others. When he feels his human frailty, he sends a
card from the "Little Prince" reveling in the aptness of Antoine de
Saint-Exupery's prose. When a sense of playful, yet cruel morality
overwhelms him, he lashes out with a Lewis Carroll card. And if the
Passenger loses it completely, there's always Dostoyevski ("there was a
gleam of something like madness"). The Just-So postcards are beautifully
illustrated with artwork by the respective authors or by a rogue's gallery
worth of past masters (Anna Akhmatova is paired with Edvard Munch, Paul
Valery with Pablo Picasso, and so on) and can be sent, absolutely free of
charge, to anyone with an e-mail account. Visit this ever-flowing well of art
and letters, and enrich somebody's life - perhaps your own, to begin with.
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HOLE LIKE A HEAD
If you haven't pried open your third eye yet, you're missing out on a world
of fun. There's a whole spare dimension out there, kids. And until that
blinding shaft of light issues from your knotted cranium, you may as well
be watching reruns of "Rhoda." But how to get it open? Dangerous drugs?
Wacky, store-bought mysticism? The enlightened minds at Third Eye Marketing may have just the thing - the
Trep-O-Matic 2000. This device allows the user to drill a hole in his or
her own head - a process known as Trepanation. Avert the risk of
Hyper-Cerebral Electrosis, a condition that may cause your melon to pop
like a potato in a microwave. Ascend to a higher level of consciousness.
Awaken your dormant psychic powers. Trep away! |
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IT WAS A PLEASURE TO BYRNE "The final position in Kama Sutra." "Rock-World-Funk-Hop-Pop." "Smooooth, like cheeeeze." These and other quirky phrases (a new one comes up every time you reload the index page) describe the official web page of David Byrne's record label Luaka Bop. Home to venerable nerd-groove eccentric Byrne, unique vocal soul outfit Zap Mama, Punjabi funk-rock behemoth Cornershop, folk misfit Jim White, dizzy rockers Geggy Tah and many other unclassifiable artists, the Luaka Bop page feels like the last position in Kama Sutra most of the time: strange, but stimulating to a degree you may not readily admit to in mixed company. Dig into the Toy Box for a life affirming Real Audio experience. This is the new pop, even smoooother than cheeeeze, and it should freak you out if you use it correctly. Yeah, you say you need this like you need a hole in the head, but you're confused right now. Trust me on this. Reading this stuff will make you smell better. See you next week, with another fistful of carnations and something resembling a tan.
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