Apple introduced the new iMac G5 today in Paris. Here's a picture of it:



As you can see, it combines the machine's guts with the display. There is no separate cpu section, as in the previous iMac G4. The whole thing is abut 2 inches thick. Overall, I'd say it's pretty slick, and I'm confident in predicting that Apple will sell zillions of them (assuming IBM can keep the G5 chips coming fast enough). It's available in mid-September.

The configurations are as follows:

iMac 17-inch - 256MB - 1.6GHz G5 - Combo drive - GeForce FX5200 Ultra 64 - $1299
iMac 17-inch -- 256MB - 1.8GHz G5 - SuperDrive - GeForce FX5200 Ultra 64 - $1499
iMac 20-inch -- 256MB - 1.8GHz - SuperDrive - GeForce FX5200 Ultra 64 - $1899

So quit staring, ya slack-jawed drool factory! Get thee to Apple and buy yourself one!
Apple - iMac G5

I'm not here tonight to defend Def Leppard, whose music was often derivative and soulless, and whose schtick was simply KISS dialed down to 80% opacity. But nor am I going to deny that they had at least one catchy tune that I used to crank up on my way to school back in the 80's. That tune? "Pour Some Sugar On Me."

Flash forward to the present day. A vapid, talentless and, sadly, not altogether attractive boy band named "The Townsend Boys" has, in one master stroke, attempted to obliterate both music and the music video from our culture. Their cover of P.S.S.O.M. is a violent affront to good taste, and the video lacks even the integrity to convincingly peddle young man-flesh to the pimply teenagers who must be the target audience here. Instead, it insults us with its references not only to Def Leppard, but to The Beatles, Robert Palmer and others, before finally succumbing to a fast-motion chase scene that disgraces even the lowbrow Benny Hill Show from which it's stolen. It's an unforgivable tragedy.



Pour not sugar, but rather tar and feathers, on them.

You gotta give props to VH1; they could make a tv show from a pile of damp socks. One of their recent endeavors is the awkwardly-titled "100 Greatest Shocking Moments in Rock & Roll." Judging from some of the entries, I think they'd have been smarter to whittle things down to a top 25 or so.

For instance, number 59 on the list is "Keith Richards is discovered with heroin in Toronto (1977)," which is like saying Mother Theresa was discovered with rosary beads in Calcutta. But my favorite has to be number 56: "Jefferson Airplane's Grace Slick picks a fan's nose (1978)." I swear to God!
Shocking Moments in Rock & Roll

Before there were "Dummies" books and "Complete Idiot's" guides on every conceivable subject, there was Science Made Stupid. Not just simplified, but dumbed-down.

Here's a very abridged version of the 1986 bestseller. It's long out-of-print, but I still have a copy around here somewhere. Get yourself to eBay and find a copy. Amazon has some used ones starting at $47.00!!!



Science Made Stupid

The headline says it all, folks.

"A couple hiking in the mountains of far northern Sweden found 70 pairs of shoes, all filled with butter. Officials have no idea who put the shoes there, or why."
Shoes, filled with butter.

There are 2 types of "defining moments" you may encounter during your life, and they're very different from each other.

The first is the type that you prepare for, sometimes years in advance. Your big race at the Olympics, your marriage proposal, your run for political office, etc. These are moments that define you, certainly, but these are also moments that you help define, by choosing the time, or the place, or by plotting strategies beforehand.

The second type is the one that blindsides you. You're caught by surprise, and careful preparation is replaced by sheer reflex and instinct. These are the moments that truly define what kind of person you are, and what types of values you hold dear.

Take Matthew Goff, for instance. While walking his dog in a neighborhood park, an alligator lunged out of a pond and chomped down on his dog's head. So what did Matthew do in this, a bona fide Defining Moment?

He pulled out a pocketknife, leapt into the pond, and went hand-to-hand with the gator. Matt stabbed it in the eye, after which it released the dog. Dog and master are both doing well, and the gator slunk off into the murky depths.

Consider young Matthew defined!

Thanks to CNN for bringing this to our attention.
Man stabs gator, saves dog

In the past, I've blogged about artist Mark Ryden and how I think his stuff is awesome.

Well, this guy Ray Caesar has just popped onto my radar, and his work has a very similar look and feel. Not that one is a copycat of the other, but clearly the 2 artists share a fetish for creepy surrealist faux victorian portraits. Hey, don't we all?

Thanks to Boing Boing for the heads up on this.
Ray Caesar Galleries

The Daily Howler will be a source of solace. Editor Bob Somerby is listening and watching carefully and reassuring us that we're not having a nightmare; the newsmedia just can't be counted on to fulfill their role as the conduit of information so necessary to a democracy -- or even be trusted an eensy, weensy bit.

I was in fabulous New York City recently, along with Two Dog Night. We were there to catch a performance of "The Boy From Oz," starring the perfectly delicious Hugh Jackman.

The show was really great, and I must admit young Mr. Jackman can cut a rug with the best of them. He virtually oozes entertainment from his every pore, and his hair is slick with it. He clearly loves the stage, and his enthusiasm for it washes out over the audience from the moment the curtain goes up.

But that isn't the greatness I sat down to write about this evening. No, the chance meeting I'm referring to was far more intimate, and was made that much more delightful by virtue of its unexpectedness.

There we were, Two Dog and I, walking through the streets of SoHo and gawking at the pretty gay boys that litter the entire area, when who should hop onto the sidewalk and brush past us but RICHARD KIND!



In person!

Half a second later, he was gone. It was over. I stifled an involuntary squeal as I grabbed Two Dog by the shoulders and asked "Did you see him? Did you SEE him?!"

And indeed she had. It was a magical moment for me, and for Two Dog. I hope it was just as magical for you, Mr. Kind, if you're out there reading this tonight...
Richard Kind at the Internet Movie Database

The recontextualization of this article is a nice analogue to the about.com post I linked to (back on 8/9) about the dog fur rugs causing allergies. Here we have cretins from the "Active Low-Carber Forums" taking advantage of the recent sensational coverage of the truly pathetic death of Gayle Grinds to advance their insane agenda. In case you were wondering if "Low-Carber" was an adjective or a noun, let me clarify: it's a cult.

That's right, folks -- what we shouldn't be thinking about is the complete societal breakdown that allowed this woman to drop out of the world. Pay no attention to the fact that this woman and her husband were very obviously suffering from mental illness -- why bother? They probably didn't have adequate, affordable health care anyhow. No, indeed, let's make sure the media feeding frenzy fills us up on lots of sidebars selling us low-carb versions of our favorite chemically poisonous foods (I'd link, but I don't want to give yet still more free advertising to these parasites) and sending those who can afford it (and plenty who can't) scurrying off for gastric bypass surgery.

The next time you see a "lifestyle" ad for some low-carb product, or spot der furhrer's big red A -- the new scarlet letter -- on your bottled water or whatever, know that you're being indoctrinated. This Atkins-critical article from The Raw Story got linked to a low-carber support site, and was subsequently blasted with a barrage of cultspeak so uniformly inane it sounded like the buzzwords and soundbites that flow from the White House, another scary cult that doesn't want anyone talking about serious healthcare reform.

The good news? As long as they use the unsweetened variety, there are no carbs in the Kool-Aid.


P.S. For stoking my endless fiery hatred for this nonsense, I have to thank Roxy, who showed me a bag from Wendy's that illustrates the kind of low-carb pretzel logic afflicting the world; the front of the bag is graced with the advice that customers seeking to reduce their carbohydrate intake can order their sandwiches without buns. The bananas sitting in my kitchen right now have Weight Watchers' stickers on them. Sigh.

The official White House web site is, smartly enough, www.whitehouse.gov. Makes perfect sense. But wouldn't it have made even better sense to wrap up all the other whitehouse domains at the same time?

Well, they didn't.

Now, in addition to the official .gov site, we also have whitehouse.com (a porn site), whitehouse.de (a company that sells American-style homes to Germans), and a host of other retarded stuff.

But the best of the bunch is whitehouse.org. It's a spot-on send-up of the moron currently in the Oval Office, and it's presented in a very clever manner.

Below is a link to a collection of "patriotic posters" offered up for sale at the site. Go on over and give 'em a look.

PATRIOTIC POSTERS - WHITEHOUSE.ORG

I'm talking about, of course, the sanctimonious christian fundamentalists who want to turn this country into a backwards theocracy. What's the difference between these idiots and the Islamic revolutionaries that want to establish governments based on a strict interpretation of the Koran? The correct answer is "none." There is no meaningful difference.

Our lousy, rotten president believes that creationism should be taught in public schools. I think we should go a step further and teach kids that the moon is made of cheese and human babies are delivered by a stork. Our president is a stupid, misguided religious zealot, so it shouldn't be such a surprise to me that this is the state of the nation.

But I didn't mean to fly off the handle like this. I just got worked up because some public-school teacher in -- I shit you not -- Humansville, Missouri posted the ten commandments in the school cafeteria and has stated that he will not follow federal law regarding religion in schools. Arrogant little terd! He and Roy Moore should develop a sitcom together.
Official on leave over Ten Commandments

This band is the hot act of the month. They're getting all kinds of fawning press, and their single "Take Your Mama" is clogging up the airwaves.

What makes them different from most heavily-marketed "hot new bands" is that these folks actually live up to the hype, give or take a little. Their music is a funky mix of retro-disco grooves without going over the edge into nostalgia or camp.

Below, you'll find a link to their official web site, and their latest album is available from the iTunes Music Store. What's that? You don't use iTunes? Get your act together, for chrissake.
..:: Scissorsisters::..

I'm glad you asked, because, having just been diagnosed with one, I have a unique insight into the matter.

An abcessed tooth is proof that there is no god. It's an all-consuming agony without end, and a potent argument in support of doctor-assisted suicide. I would kill and eat my entire family for 5 minutes of relief.

DAMN, this hurts like a motherfucker!
Unnerving drawing of a rotten tooth

...it wasn't actually a list of tips on how to keep Fido and Fluffy's coats glossy.

Scenario:
Woman walks into friend's home.
Woman: I just love this area rug! It's so soft, and it's such a beautiful, buttery color.
Friend: Thanks! It's made from the hides of four golden retrievers.
Woman: Oh my God, that's disgusting!
Friend: Well, then, you better take off that coat you're wearing -- what, was it OK when you thought it was a rabbit? But, really... the best thing about this rug... it just doesn't show dog hair....

This press release doesn't really qualify as news, since it's been an issue for a very long time, but the European Union is currently working on the terms of ban on dog and cat skins. Talk about the least they could do.

P.S. Thanks to About.com for that incredibly heartless article (see "coats" link above) about people's allergies. Ugh.

P.P.S. And thanks, as always, to eBay, for offering items for sale that shouldn't exist, like this revenge-of-the-retriever "taxidermy replica" (simulacrum, anyone?) made out of goat fur. I'm tempted to find out what poor animal was killed to cover the fake dead goats.

So I attended my 2nd cousin's wedding yesterday here in scenic Antigonish, Nova Scotia. The wedding was held in the chapel at Saint Francis Xavier University, the alma mater of both bride and groom. The reception was held in another building on campus.

So there are a few interesting things about StFX (pronounced "Saint Effex"). First of all, the campus is bee-yoo-tee-ful.

Secondly, there's a strange dynamic between the University and the town. The town consists of about 5000 people, and the university, located in the heart of town, consists of almost 4000 students. That's an amazing student-to-townie ratio. Also, StFX is the town's largest employer, with a payroll of a little over 500 people.

And gosh, the people are all so insanely NICE, it gives me the creeps.
StFX University

...and it means "place where the branches have been broken by bears seeking beech nuts," a beautifully nonsensical and alliterative translation, I think.

It's Antigonish, Nova Scotia, Canada. I'm here for a wedding this weekend. I'll check in later with more details.

BTW, I'm staying at a Green Way hotel, which is an environmentally conscious hotel chain that I'd never heard of before. It's a good gimmick.
The Claymore

Oh, blessed event!

Doom 3 is about to be released, and by all accounts, it's going to live up to the considerable hype. Here's an article about the game, its cultural ramifications, and its surprising beauty. My favorite quote: " As you're being devoured by a swarm of demonic cherubs, you can admire the iridescent patina on their insect wings."
TIME.com: The Age of Doom

Also of note: here's a link to the official trailer for the game, as well as some screenshots. The trailer requires QuickTime, which all computers need in order to be considered civilized.

His Holiness, Pope John Paul II, has taken time out of his busy schedule of drooling and pissing himself to launch yet another attack on women trying to catch a break.

Despite having presided over the greatest child molestation scandal in modern history, His Eminence thought it necessary to write a letter reminding the world (*sigh*) again that modern feminism has "immediate and lethal effects in the structure of the family." You read that right, folks. LETHAL.

Speaking of lethal, how many people have committed suicide due to the unbearable guilt and mental anguish of being sexually assaulted by a priest they thought they could trust? I haven't seen that memo yet.
MSNBC - Vatican criticizes radical feminism

...is a web quiz. And even better if you can mix the two. Leave me a comment if you want to know how I turned out on the "Which Enemy of the Christian Faith Are You?" quiz.

It's a beautiful day, so, naturally, thoughts turn to genocide.

I think it's holdover from last night, when Roxy and I finally got around to watching The Pianist. Despite the somewhat (given the clash of contexts) offputting effect of his appearance in M. Night Shyamalan's The Village (a fun suspense flick which you might want to go see to improve your mood after reading this post), Adrien Brody did a wonderful job portraying Polish Jew, piano virtuoso, author, and Holocaust survivor Wladyslaw Szpilman.

Poking around the internet on the topic, I'm struck by how wrongheaded many descriptions of the film seem when they talk about Szpilman as a hero in the film. Now, before you start blasting, let's be clear: simply having survived the Holocaust gets you on my hero list, not to mention coming through the horrors of seeing your family, your city, your way of life completely decimated by one of the most pure surges of hatred the world has ever known. Coming through with a sense of artistic beauty and a will to share your vision and experience with others is icing on the hero cake.

Still, watching that film, I felt that Szpilman's (the character's, not the historical figure's) survival was despite himself, in many cases. Because his musical genius and fame made him a beloved icon to his own, downtrodden people, the main theme of the film, to me, is the will of the Polish Jews to uphold a sense of dignity and a system of ideals, rather than the heroic survival of one man. Heroism is an idea that's tied to individualism, and it's one that leads us to more trouble.

You don't need to use too much imagination to see how a false idea of heroic individualism -- in its extreme, a kissing cousin to the fascism it is popularly portrayed as combatting -- has been dangerous in the past and continues be attractive, misleading, and dangerous in the present.

This is the 60th anniversary of the Nazi's 1944 genocide of the Romani, the gypsy people.

Have a nice day!

As an addendum to my pro-Mac rant of late, here's an item about Apple's CEO Steve Jobs, who underwent surgery for a tumor on his pancreas over the weekend. He's expected to make a full recovery.

Get better, Steve! We aren't through with you yet!
Apple's Jobs doing well after cancer surgery

This post may seem long and random, but that's only because it is. Bear with me. It's actually a nice follow-up to my digital camera post, in that it may make your break from film cameras a little easier.

I'm a huge fan of the Macintosh because I'm a huge fan of what computers let me do. I can create art that transcends my near-complete lack of talent. I can make music CDs. I can buy and sell on eBay. And, yes, the free porn is nice, too. Or so I hear.

But the thing that makes the Mac so great is that, without it, we'd have no idea how incredibly primitive and unforgivable Windows is. Without the Mac, Windows would be the pinnacle of usability and convenience. Indeed, without the Mac to feed off of, Windows would probably never have evolved past version 3.1.

Even today, despite the slick graphics and deceptive marketing claims, the core of Windows, and the very philosophy behind it, is like something we'd have expected from Soviet scientists circa 1981. Millions of Americans are afraid of personal computers, and it's because of our culture's collective trauma at the hands of all the various Windows flavors.

I'm not saying that world peace would be achieved if we all ran OS X, but I am saying that there would be a lot less stress. Machines that can do as many things as a computer can are, by their very nature, going to be complicated. Even the Mac is complicated. But it isn't scary.

But I'm not here to tell you Windows sucks. You probably knew that already. I'm here to tell you that color laser printers suck.

I've never been a fan of inkjet prints from those little desktop blunderbusses. The pictures fade too fast, they smudge too easily, the ink is outrageously expensive, and the quality is hit-and-miss, what with the various paper types and the clogged heads and such. Inkjet printers TOTALLY suck.

But what are your options? Black and white laser printers are certainly affordable, but you don't want to print out your vacation pictures in monochrome drudgery. Color laser printers are just the ticket, except that good ones run into the thousands of dollars. HP's entries into the sub-$1000 categories have been lackluster by most accounts and decidedly feature-starved.

But I can tell you today, with all honesty, that the day of the high-quality, low-cost color laser is upon us. Its name is the Magicolor 2350 EN, and it's brought to us by Konica Minolta. Bless their hearts. We've had one in the office for several months now, and I just got one for my house.

The print quality is exceptional. Photos are clear and the color is well-balanced. Type is readable even down to the the smaller point sizes. Speed is 18ppm for black and white, 4ppm for color. It won't blow the doors off with its color speed, but that's a small sacrifice to make. And it works with all varieties of Windows, Linux, Unix, and Mac OS 9 and OS X.

What knocks this printer out of the ballpark are the bonus features; connectivity through parallel, USB and ethernet, and it's got true PostScript inside (not some hackneyed PostScript emulation, like HP tries to foist upon you).

The machine's a little loud when it's printing, but not so loud it'll wake the family. It's small compared to some of its competition, but it does need clearance on the left and the right for access. The wee, dim LCD display is a disappointment, as is the convoluted menu system. However, many settings can be adjusted by accessing the printer with your favorite web browser, so trips to the menu are joyously rare.

But the price is the thing, I know. If you shop around, you'll find this printer for $850-900. If you go to eBay, you can scoop one for around $750. I got mine at TigerDirect.com, refurbished, for $650, a deal which ended the very same day I found out about it. There are other iterations of this printer (the 2300, the 2350, etc...), but I'm talking here about the 2350 EN. I can't vouch for the others.

So that's it. I just wanted to tell my readers that this printer rocks. You need to get one.
The 2350 EN printer at Epinions.com