M. Swaim: Bendy Rabbit Man Versus Mr. Squeakybuns

Let me put forth in this minimal space to discuss briefly two items in my possession, the relative importances of which it is the purpose of this faltering article to discuss.

They are similar in the object they intend to imitate (namely, a rabbit), but the intents, the usages, and even the fates of each item must be decided individually.

First, let us speak of the green, wire-boned, poseable cartoon effigy that I will simply refer to herein as "Bendy Rabbit Man." BRM came to me in a UPS box from my mother which also contained this year's installment of my wife's and my joint Easter basket. Its frozen smiling eyes stared back at me from the garden of chocolates as parsley might stare back at one from a plate, as if to say, "I'm not to be eaten, but I prove by my very presence that what you see here was prepared thoughtfully."

At this point, a nostalgic Gimcracker like myself might feel compelled to keep Bendy Rabbit Man around on sentiment alone, based on the information given. But a look deeper, I propose, will strip away some of that cloudiest of consumer urge.

I know that my mother added the BRM to the basket out of love and care; but I'm also certain that she did not intend for him to be a mantelpiece. For her part, she's probably forgotten his sticker price, or even the fact that he ever existed. Bendy Rabbit Man is a garnish, not an heirloom, and must be treated as such. I am protecting neither my nor my mother's feelings by keeping him around; I am merely using him to take up the space that might better be taken up with one of my defunct electric shavers.

Bendy Rabbit Man was a gift to me; but the second toy in question was a gift from me, specifically to my mangled cur of a dog, Libby. This particular rabbit (we'll call him Mr. Squeakybuns) was sold to us with the promise of indestructibility, a promise we should have gotten in writing. We learned of his reinforced stitching and removable squeaker, and enthusiastically took the bait.

Mr. Squeakybuns lasted less than a week. Early on, we had to trash his removable squeaker due to the possibility of it becoming a bulldog choking hazard. A few days later, Libby's powerful jaws made a mockery of the reinforced stitching, violently severing an ear. All that remained of the once pristine rabbit was a dilapidated mess of muppet fur and slobber.

My wife (who loves to discard the possessions of others) insisted right away that we make a velveteen bonfire for Mr. Squeakybuns. I, however, objected, quite vociferously.

A dog is intelligent enough to understand when it is being offered food, and sometimes even when it needs to go outside to relieve itself. A dog is not, however, intelligent enough to care deeply about the obsolescence of a plaything. Libby, therefore, according to form, has maintained an interest in Mr Squeakybuns in spite of his condition, an interest that heightens measurably whenever she sees our cat expressing an interest.

Therefore, dogs not being rational animals, I hereby resolve to dispense with the aesthetic in this case and throw my lot in with utility in the case of Mr. Squeakybuns.

Grades:
Bendy Rabbit Man: 2/10
Mr. Squeakybuns: 7/10

Goodbye, Bendy Rabbit Man.

M. Swaim_, M.SwaimMisc_

Jon's Book: Patricia Fara, "An Entertainment for Angels"

"If I appear to have stumbled in darkness, it is only because I have been standing in the shadows of giants." This is the quip I sometimes suggest I will have etched onto my headstone, but it might equally apply to any of the many scientists and charlatans described in Patricia Fara's An Entertainment for Angels, subtitled Electricity in the Enlightenment. Its a little volume, clocking in at only 170 or so small pages, but every one contains at least one fascinating tidbit about the way that scientists and showmen sold the equally fascinating phenomenon of electricity to the public, and simultaneously pushed forward the boundaries of human understanding. The book is divided into five chapters, each covering a different aspect of the discovery of electricity.

One of my favorite historical characters is Giordano Bruno. Not the least of his distinctions is that he was the last man executed for heresey by the R.C.C., but that distinction is a petty one compared to Bruno's florid cosmology, which was surprisingly modern, despite certain animistic and aetheric conceptions of the universe. Bruno is fascinating because, quite unscientifically, he follows his own madness and idiocy to a complete picture of the universe. Of course every scientist is out to do this, its just that sometimes someone manages to get a particular idea right, as Bruno did when he imagined the cosmos to be centerless and homogeneous. He also imagined that the universe was filled with life, and it is possible that he will be proven right one day. None of these successes are indicative of Bruno's genius, since they were motivated by only the most tenuous scientific knowledge.

An Entertainment for Angels is filled with such characters, and I think its high time these obscure harlequin scientists got some attention.

Grade: 8/10
Shall I Keep It: Yes. I can imagine one day giving it to a special woman with a little dedication inside that reads "An Entertainment for An Angel" the right woman and/or situation hasn't come along just yet.

Jon_, JonBook_

M. Swaim's Introduction

As from the overflow of the heart the mouth speaks, so do one's possessions also give insight into a person. I wish this were not so.

Though the revelation of my own heart is more accurately viewed by looking at my iTunes player (a subject I may explore in detail someday), I must confess that my accumulation of trinkets also gives insight into my own manifestation of the human condition.

They range in nature from mildly useful to utterly useless, things accumulated out of a desire for kitsch, either on my part or on the part of others exercised on my behalf. And while I do not ever intend to become fully and starkly utilitarian, I do believe that some of it can go.

The method of disposal is almost as important to me as the decision of whether or not to dispose. A first instinct is always to sell something you see as destructive of your own soul to keep. However, if something is inherently bad to own, selling it only enslaves a new owner, and the tax deduction garnered by a charitably intended donation is hardly worth the cost of training the lower class to use their meager means to purchase junk. Therefore, I will set out to determine not only whether or not something should be kept, but through what avenue the dismissal should take effect.

I hope to journey in this project a wiser, and progressively less materially laden, individual.

M. Swaim_, Introduction_

Colleen's English Bulldog

As per Stephen's suggestion, I shall undertake an evaluation of my dog (well, she's a fixed bitch, to be more precise), Libby Swaim.

Pros: responds to dozens of different names (created on a whim), high fives, endless amusement, amazing underbite, the perfect conglomerate of pig/hyena/mule, "free"

Cons: rotting Dorito smell, obstinate, constantly scratches self/sludges own vagina, medical expenses, incessantly attempts to hump Cat Stevens (our cat), underbite tends to get in the way of licking and gives the sensation of biting

If my mind serves me right, Libby entered Matt and my household in late September of 2005. We had been mulling over the idea of buying a canine, and specifically an English Bulldog, but found them to be pricey and out of our range at the time ($1500-2300). While at work one day, Matt mentioned to a co-worker his interest in the slobbery breed when, to his surprise, he was offered one.

You see, Libby, like so many of the young in the Western world, is a victim of that particular plague known as divorce. When her owner, who loved her, moved out from the house of her now-ex-husband she could not move Libby to her new apartment with her. In order to get back at his estranged wife, the now-ex-husband left Libby to rot in her cage for six straight months, feeding her the bare minimum to survive and forcing her to defecate all over herself. Over those long six months, Libby's nails grew out so long that they punctured the pads of her feet and started coming out the top. According to vet records which we were able to secure at the time of her release to us, before the separation she weighed 56 pounds. When we got her, she weighed a mere 38 pounds. If you think obese bulldogs are odd-looking, imagine a starved one. She also was suffering from a yeast infection, a urinary tract infection, and severe mange when she first came into our house.

The night we were able to rescue her, we took her straight to the emergency vet clinic, where we dropped a couple hundred that night, and a several more in the coming months, on Libby's physical, emergency treatments, and meds. We fed her straight-up peanut butter and generally worked hard at trying to fatten her up and get her healthy. In the first couple months we had her, we had to explain to every person we passed on the sidewalks in our little german village neighborhood of Mainstasse, Covington, Kentucky that we were not animal abusers. Probably unwisely, the first night she stayed with us I hoisted the scabby, mangy, infection-laden bitch into bed with me.

Now, about ten months later, Libby is a fixture of the household. She has been declared the favorite of the dog boutique down the street (no, we're not THOSE dog owners and no, they don't just tell that to everyone...) and has gained about twelve pounds, although I'd still like to see a couple more on her. We are still working on the skin issues, but she is an entirely different looking animal (I wish I could supply 'before' pictures). So, should I keep her? Well despite Jon's insistence that she is a bastardization of the noble wolf (could that be because of that nip to the ankle?), her penchant for occasionally fouling my rug, her constant - according to Matt - smell of rotting Doritos, and the personality of a mule, I will keep her.

Rating: 8.9/10

p.s. I'd like to get her stuffed when she dies. Anyone have the card for a good taxidermist?

p.p.s. If you would like to research attaining a rescue Ug of your own

Colleen_, ColleenPets_

Birru's Introduction

The internet has cursed us with convenience and savings. Froogle, Cheap Ass Gamer, Ben's Bargains, et al have made seductively priced closeout items far too easy to acquire. The pricing alone has convinced me that retailers care less about making money and more about taking up all my living space.

It's fitting that Stephen paraphrased the King of All Cosmos. Katamari Damacy is not a whimsical masterpiece of gameplay. It's yet another dystopian vision of the future. The consumer has become the consumed.

I'm part of the problem.
Bill_, Introduction_

Colleen's Paper Doll Book: Princess Diana

The Princess Diana Paper Doll Book has not been properly utilized in years, not even employed with looking kitschy on the coffeetable. I probably received it sometime between age four and seven from either my paternal Grandparents or my Aunt Sarah. I have narrowed it down to these two sources, owing to that it always resided at my Grandparents house until I was a teenager and brought it home for one reason or another, and the fact that my Aunt was an avid royalty-watcher (she subscribed to Royalty Magazine and took the day off from work at the FBI the day Diana and Charles got married to watch to spectacle on television). It was one of those diversions I kept at the Grandparents' house to have kiddy somethings to do when I visited Potomac from the then still-emerging suburb of Gaithersburg. My brothers' interests proved to be more tricky to pin down, and, as such, they were enticed to visit with a Nintendo 64 (which Matt and I now possess), as my parents did not allow video gaming in the house (computer gaming was acceptable) until I was old enough to not care about the oppression anymore.
While I myself have never had a fascination with the titled ones (unless you count the Western royalty mocked on www.thesuperficial.com), I remember enjoying dressing Diana up in tabbed frockery galore. Her sentimental value has only increased in the past year, as my Aunt passed away last summer from ovarian cancer.


Grade: I know this is a cop-out, especially since this is my first actual thing graded, but it gives me a sick feeling in the innards to...It is up there.

Shall I Keep it?: Yes. I am no royalty buff, but I am a sentimentalist.

Colleen_, ColleenBook_

Colleen's Introduction

Some of my earliest recollections of childhood entail playing hooky from cleaning my room through immersion in various Nancy Drew novels (running away from the tide of things to pay attention to one in particular). Even though I am now a twenty four year old married woman, the scenario is scarily similar even today: I now have 1200 square feet worth of things (marriage, I have found, is an accumulator's dream and a simple man's nightmare), and that Nancy Drew novel has morphed into an iBook/Percy novel/the odd blog focusing on one's things...
On account of coming to the conclusion that my hunter/gatherer instincts are being stifled by our mall/big box society and Target is really not the anti-depressant I may or may not rely on it to be, I have sought varying measures to control my Western urges to accumulate throughout the last several years. These include, but are not limited to, membership in a Catholic Worker community, irregular and ecstatic purges and drives to Saint Vincent DePaul (not unlike the choreographed motions of a bulemic), and being crafty toward the end of stifling Targetesque urges. Most recently, my husband Matt (it is only too appropriate that he play a prominent role in my posts, as what is mine is his...for the most part) and my housemate David have taken to urban gardening, and I am teaching myself to sew and make my own cleaning products for the bod and the house. Maybe if we do not actually call it intentional community it will become one? I am currently exploring the notion that concerted measures toward self-reliance, when it comes to the production of things, will satiate my desire for things made by others (robot and human alike) - Cottage industry of some sort. We'll see. In the meantime, this forum will be a useful mechanism for exploring the obsession/detestation with things of all kinds. Hopefully, it will serve to aid in my continuing evaluation of the relationship between the thing and the self, and maybe I will even discover who really owns who.

Colleen_, ColleenIntroduction_

Jon's Comic Book: Phil Hester, Mike Huddleson and Gary Peterson, The Coffin

I purchased The Coffin at the UNC Ram's Head Bookstore for two dollars on the passing resemblance it has to an Exray Factory project which is under development. I read it the day I bought it, probably as a way of avoiding one or another of the unpleasant tasks associated with writing my Master's Thesis.



The Coffin is a peculiar bird. In it, Dr Ashtar Ahmed constructs a kind of robotic suit of armor which is able to contain a man's soul and prevent it from leaving the mortal coil, even after the body dies. As you might expect, Ashtar's funding comes from a crooked old billionaire who has already extended his life by decades using organ transplants of questionable legality and who is looking for a more permanent solution. Just as Ashtar is zeroing in on the solution to the problem, he experiences, if I remember correctly, a crisis of conscience and the forces of evil, in this case his boss, attempt to take the suit by force. The inevitable logic of the comic book comes into play here, and the end result is that a dying Dr Ahmed manages to crawl his way into the suit, forestalling his spiritual death and giving him a chance to seek revenge. This is all after, of course, he has a near death experience in which the devil appears and mocks his scientific world view and his selfish ways.

The comic book's strangeness is matched only by its vagueness. Is this the God of Christianity Dr Ahmed meets? Is he damned because he is a Muslim, or are we supposed to assume that since he is named Ashtar, that the comic is aiming a jibe at more obscure spirituality? That portions of the comic resemble Chic Tracks is undeniable, but we are never sure what we are trying to be scared into. Further complicating matters is the presence of Dr Ahmed's gay friend, who the comic seems ambivalent about in the "Girl, interrupted" sense of the word. The ending of the comic, which I will not reveal, obviously, is itself a bit ambiguous.

These minor philosophical critiques aside, The Coffin's character design shines. The usual convention in which villains follow a variation on the theme of the hero is followed with some spectacular results, and even minor variations on the suit are pulled of with panache. The writing, at the level of character, is also very well executed for such a short one-shot, and the characters are all fairly interesting and memorable, although they do read something like those found in a television pilot.

In short, it was worth two bucks and an hour.

Rating: 5/10
Shall I Keep It?: Stephen should borrow it.

Jon_, JonComicBook_

Shelby's Introduction

Hello folks - I was invited here by good friend Stephen for the reason that I too am an accumulator of items. Part of it starting when my parents decided to move back to their home country and I had to quickly gather all the items that I had stored "At Home". This has led to years of eBaying and slow sorting and a test of my sentimental leanings. Now I am heading home to Europe and am on the longest eBay journey of my life. Perhaps I shall truly be free from objects and this consuming sickness. Another consumatory blessing or curse is that I have played music for the past 10 years (most notably in the punk band Frodus). Establishing myself in the music world has bestowed upon me being on press mailing lists and accumulating more CDs than I can even keep track of. To top it off I make some of my living™ by designing CD covers so these cultural objects multiply like tribbles. All this and my liking of pokémon makes my life a constant battle between my organic life and small Chinese-made plastic objects. I look forward to sharing with my comrades and friends my attempt to break free!

(Pictured: TurboGrafx 16, eBayed 2001. And promptly replaced by a Nintendo Virtual Boy found on eBay)

Shelby_, Introduction_

Jon's Book: Stanislaw Lem, Hospital of the Transfiguration

Stanislaw Lem, I think, thrives under the rubric of science fiction. He has a fairly morbid picture of the universe as a place which is not only mysterious, but almost insultingly intangible to human understanding, which is, perhaps tellingly, best explicated in the context of some incomprehensible, monolithic alien thing of one kind or another. In other words, what he is trying to communicate to the reader is best exemplified by the sorts of things which you almost have to struggle to keep out of science fiction. Its this collusion of context and concept¹ which makes my personal favorite novel by Lem, Solaris, so compelling, and it is its the absence which makes The Hospital of the Transfiguration so strange.



The Hospital of the Transfiguration focuses on the experiences of a Polish doctor working at a rural insane asylum from the months just before the German Occupation of World War 2 to its immediate aftermath. The dehumanizing Nazi war machine is as alien and monolithic as any fictional creation Lem has ever crafted, and it also has the eerie similarity to what we will simply refer to as "human" psychology which is frequently also an element of Lem's fictional monsters. The focus, though, overwhelmingly², is on minutiae, such as the turning of the seasons, or the strange character of an elderly and mysterious member of the Polish resistance with whom Stefan, the protagonist, has occasional, innocuous conversations. The effect is to highlight the strangeness of living in the shadow of a beast rather than having a direct confrontation with it. Even the climax of the story, which most readers will readily be able to predict, comes off as mundane, as if the only possible reaction that Stefan, or indeed, the world, can muster to the insanity and inevitability of the Nazi's is a kind of defensive indifference.

As is the case in Solaris, romantic love of a sort also appears, but its emotional nature, like everything else, is blunted and clinical, and its presence is difficult to interpret. It is not clear that Lem is making the trite statement that even in the most horrific of situations that hope and love are present, and that they offer a kind of redemption. Indeed, the act of love seems to be carried out only mechanically or out of pity or some other, difficult to understand, fairly feminine motivation, in a scene, now that I think about it, somewhat reminiscent of the end of The Grapes of Wrath

All and all the effect is to create a surreal, and perhaps severely understated novel.

Rating: 9/10
Shall I Keep It: Yes.

* * *

¹ Or percept?

² Or underwhelming, as the case may be.

Jon_, JonBook_

A. Toups's Misc.: Aluminium Train

I received this tin train from my father the first christmas after he decided to end his estrangement from us. This was the first christmas we had shared in over a decade; I imagine between him and his wife they didn't have much of an idea what to get me or my siblings. I imagine this to be part of a collectable series. This one is the engine of a train, with an old-fashioned Coca Cola logo on the side. There is a lid on the cab which held various candy; but the engine itself is also a container. If you turn it on its side, the cab itself fits on top of the engine as a lid as well, revealing even more candy. I've long since emptied it of confections, and haven't really been using it for anything else.

I should probably throw it away, but I am a sentimental person and I've grown attached to it. Andrew_, AndrewMisc_

Stephen's CD: Add N To X's "On the Wires of Our Nerves"

At, or near, the heart of my having accumulated too many possessions over the years is my desire for completion. I will admit to owning some things that are perhaps "sub-par" or "not quite up to muster," primarily because they belong to a greater collection of things. This is mostly bad, but it can be good for the sake of providing context.

Such is the case with my small (three CDs) collection of Add N to X albums. Here, I shall review them in order, as I recently listened to them. Upon listening to the first of the discs, I thought to myself "Why do I have this aimless thing?" but by the third CD, I knew precisely why: analog genius, revealed over time.

I am fairly certain I purchased this CD sometime in high school on the basis of the cover alone, although I am sure the track listing probably helped. Clearly, an album with song titles like "Gentle Germans," "The Black Regent," "Planet Munich" and "King Wasp" can't be all bad. And it isn't. However, I should say that, rather than really liking this CD, I more so appreciate it. Almost every song has a great intro and often, a great first minute or so, full of thick synths, burbling, beeping and zooming away, much of it backed by solid non-programmed drums. After that, though, the whole thing just bogs down. Either the song merely repeats itself over and over, or the changes are entirely based on some typically aimless noises. Perhaps this is all intentional, and the members of Add N to X are in some monochrome pub, drinking opaque fluids from filthy and tarnished devices, laughing about how annoyed they made me. And yet, I have kept the CD and bought two more from the same band...

Grade: C+ (the + is because there are just so many lovely analog keyboards happening and because the cover features Ann Shenton having a lovely Moog Rogue being inserted into her womb)

Shall I keep it? Yes. (See album cover, above) Stephen_, StephenCD_

Stephen's CD: Add N To X's "Avant Hard"

Alright, so the title is a pun. And the cover isn't exactly eye-catching. But, hear me sigh with relief. For the songs, the songs...these songs are songs!

We are treated to the same analog keyboard fest that the first Add N To X album features, but this time around the songs typically go somewhere. Or, lacking a real song progression, there might be a vocoded voice to keep the ear interested (not to mention some sparing, but nicely done theremin leads). The single was "Metal Fingers in My Body" (accompanied by a striking animated and, frankly, pornographic video) and the title fits the song, if such a thing is possible.

Most of the other songs (such as "Revenge of the Black Regent," "Steve's Going to Teach Himself Who's Boss," and "Skills") also hold their own, although there are a few moments when the band treads a bit too familiar of ground, setting up a song with a great keyboard part and then running out of ideas on it. For the most part, though, this is a great retro-futurism synthesizer noise album, although it has a few moments of drag.

Grade: B+

Shall I keep it? Yes, indeed I shall. It's very much not in a jewel case, too. Stephen_, StephenCD_

Stephen's CD: Add N To X's "Add Insult to Injury"

Ah, how many times can I count the joys of owning this Add N To X CD?

At least three.

Firstly, the album itself, although apparently somewhat discoherent in its creation, is fantastic from start to finish. I shall list each and every one of the (as usual) fantastically named tracks:

1. "Adding N To X" is a funky synthy creation, featuring variations on the title phrase both said and shouted, apparently, by a French child. Or several of them. I love French children.
2. "Brothel Charge" is precisely the song I shall use when I next storm a brothel.
3. "You Must Create" is as inspiring a mantra as it is thoroughly in a groove
4. "Kingdom Of Shades" is dancy and has an obvious major key change!
5. "Monster Bobby" is like some kind of android Gary Glitter pub chant song, including the potential for underage girls
6. "Poke 'Er 'Ole"'s title might cause a wince, but the song is a pleasant sort of joy-ride
7. "Plug Me In" again has a near-pornographic video, although the song is more bubbly than sensual
8. "Hit For Cheese" is a bit silly, with (presumably) Anne and a robot voice having a sort of back and forth (Anne: 'I want to treat you bad' Robot: 'You'll wish you never had'), but it also rocks
9. "MDMH (Miami Dust Mite Harvest)" rocks itself into a prog-rock tizzy
10. "B.P. Perino" is a completely obscure title for me, as is the song itself
11. "Incinerator No. 1" has a sort of noisy drum and bass beat backing some noisy synths
12. "The Regent is Dead" ends the album with an epic and tragic musical eulogy for the now dead Regent (who appeared on the previous two albums in song form)

Secondly, the CD has some great album art (mutants on the CD itself, I believe) and the version I got actually had stickers in it!

Thirdly, the CD is in a flexi-pack that has SCRATCH 'N' SNIFF patches on it the front and back covers!! From what I can tell, the smells are "Pine Cudgel," "Dirt Floor," "Oily Blanket" and "Liquorice Whip."

Rating: A

Total GPA of My Add N to X Album Collection: 3.2

Shall I Keep It? Scratch and Sniff, Stickers and not in a Jewel Case? How can I do otherwise?

Stephen_, StephenCD_

Birru's Introduction

The internet has cursed us with convenience and savings. Froogle, Cheap Ass Gamer, Ben's Bargains, et al have made seductively priced closeout items far too easy to acquire. The pricing alone has convinced me that retailers care less about making money and more about taking up all my living space.

It's fitting that Stephen paraphrased the King of All Cosmos. Katamari Damacy is not a whimsical masterpiece of gameplay. It's yet another dystopian vision of the future. The consumer has become the consumed.

I'm part of the problem. Bill_, Introduction_

Jon's Book: William Shatner "Tekwar"

'THE AIRCAR, RENTED from a cousin of P.J. Ramirez started to sputter. Jake was, according to the instruments that were still working on the control panel, approximately twenty miles from his destination and two thousand feet from the ground....

The voxbox blurted something in slurred Spanish.

Jake didn't catch it. "Otra vez," he requested.

"The engine," said the Status voxbox in English this time, "having reached the guaranteed two hundred thousand airmiles, is about to give up the ghost."

"Install a replacement," he instructed the car.

"In this model aircar, that has to be done manually by the driver or by a qualified mechanic."

"Where are the spare engines housed?"

"There is an emergency engine, good for at least ten thousand airmiles, stored in the handy compartment beneath the driveseat."...

He pried it open and found only the remains of a picnic lunch from some months ago.

"Where do we store the food?"

"Compartment to your rear, opening now."

That was where the spare engine had been stored. It was a compact one, about the size of a brick. Jake carried it, listening uneasily to the explosive popping of the current engine, over to the floor compartment marked MOTOR.

He opened the id, studied the dying engine for a few seconds and then, gingerly, removed it.

The aircar fell silent.

He connected the emergency engine.

The aircar remained silent.

Jake gave the newly installed device a moderate punch with the left fist.
It took hold and started working; the aircar bounced twice in the rain-swept air.'

Rating: 3/10
Shall I keep it?: "Tekwar" belongs to the world.
Jon_, JonBook_

Andrew's Introduction

I have so much goddamned shit.

I am a pack rat by nature. Maybe I'm just obsessively nostalgic; maybe I'm just lazy. But I tend not to throw ANYTHING away. When I was in high I school, I kept a big disorganized binder of all the papers and work that I would receive in my classes. As the year would go on, I would never bother to clean it out. Eventually trying to find anything in it was sort of like an archaelogical expedition: the further you were to the outside of the binder, the newer it was; as you approached the core you began to find ancient documents from the dawn of time.

Things haven't changed much since then.

I may as well start documenting the bric-a-brac, folderal, and odds-ands-ends that I've accumulated before I crack one day and burn myself and all my possessions in my antebellum plantation manor.

Welcome to Gimcrackery! Andrew_, Introduction_

Stephen's CD: 8 1/2 Souvenirs "Happy Feet"

For some time in high school and college, I subscribed to CMJ New Music Monthly Magazine, valued not only because its reviews mandatorily suggested other similar artists for every album reviewed, but for the compilation CD that came with each issue. Although the magazines are long gone, the CDs still sit, just to my right as I type this, in their paper slipcases. I often have intended a purging of these items from my life (after, of course, making digital copies of the songs from each that are worth having). In fact, they have been migrated to a more conspicuous position for precisely this reason [see photo at right].

However, it is not these compilation CDs that I wish to write about.

Rather, it is the 8 1/2 Souvenirs' album "Happy Feet," which occupies at the moment the second slot of my alphabetized CD collection. Although I cannot prove it with certainty, I believe that I was tipped off to the swinging jazz sounds of the Austin-based Souvenirs by the appearance of "Happy Feet" on one of said compilations. I purchased the album in the flurry of excitement marking the late-90s revival of swing, big band and lounge, although listening to it now, it stands quite apart from the rest of the zoot-suit crowd.

The album is more "hot jazz" than the bulk of the other 2nd-wave swingsters' material, full of improvised solos and skillful playing on everyone's part, especially French-born guitarist Oliver Giraud. The single "Happy Feet" features Crysta Bell's vocals, which are sometimes more suited to the song than otherwise, although Giraud himself provides some rather pleasant French vocals on some of the tunes.

Although certainly a product of the retro impulses of the late 90s, this album actually still stands as a sincerely produced and played hot jazz album (even if it does skirt novelty at times, one might suggest that this was the case of much vocal jazz even in its original heyday in the 1920s-30s). Also, the CD also includes a version of "Brazil," a song that my obsession with the film Brazil nearly requires a positive reception on my part. Plus, at least two kazoo solos!

Rating: 8 1/2 out of 10 (alas, the CD is imprisoned in a jewel case)

Shall I keep it? Yes, I shall, as it is one of the few CDs that fits nearly any mood. Stephen_, StephenCD_

Jon's Introduction: A Few Words about Things

Objects tend to remain in our possession like magical, cursed artifacts due in most cases to their purely Newtonian tendency to stay exactly where they are if left alone. As I move through the orbit of my days and years little things trace unpredictable but almost universally closed epicycles around me. There is a mug sitting on my computer desk which I used over the winter break for brewing tea. Its brown earthenware, and it has a green pear painted on it in broad brushstrokes. I have no idea where it came from, I have more or less stopped using it, and now it moves about my desk whenever I get a fit of cleanliness and move,more or less ineffectually, everything around, seaching for a more pleasant arrangement of objects. Maybe one quarter of the books on my desk I picked up when a library or a professor was giving away things they no longer wanted to keep. Some of my text books are terrible (Huang's Statistical Mechanics, I am looking at you) and others are in fields which I have only a marginal connection to (I don't even know what a Reed-Solomon Code is). And all this is just what is at my desk at work.

In short, I have a lot of things, many of which I am in possession of only nominally. Maybe Gimcrackery is about making that possession active, or maybe its about launching some of these satellites out of orbit. Jon_, Introduction_

Jon's Gadget: HP Pocket PC 4400

The Hewlett Packard Pocket PC is a somewhat stylish, somewhat bulky, and, in this particular case, somewhat scuffed rung on the ladder which leads to ever smaller and more functional computing devices. As ridiculous as it sounds I bought this the summer after my graduation with the specific intent of bringing it to France with me, where I hoped to use it to experiment with the ideas in
Soft Computing: Integrating Evolutionary, Neural, and Fuzzy Systems, a book which I will review later.

The pre-installed Windows CE operating system, while sufficient for most pocket organizer type tasks, had some severe and irritating limitations, such as the absence of any such concepts as a working directory or even a command line interface. Retrospectively, this makes a certain amount of sense, given that text entry with the device is slow and tedious no matter whether the user chooses to use the built in handwriting recognition system or a very tiny on screen keyboard. Nevertheless, a good deal of software was available, even for the Programmer on the go, including a stripped down version of Python and a fairly complete Scheme implementation with enough graphing facilities to enable some experimental computing.

These days I have installed, with some trepidation, a Linux distribution (Familiar) on it, and having finally made good on its promise to be a fully fledged, portable computer (it even has a C compiler), I have proceeded to use it strictly as a very expensive, highly customizable, wireless internet ready alarm clock.

Score: 6/10

Shall I Keep It?: Yes. I have wondered if I can't get Apache running on it and host a small web page. Plus, I am holding out for the next Familiar.

Jon_, JonGadget_

Stephen's CD: The 5.6.7.8's "The 5.6.7.8's"

I vaguely remember buying this CD on the suggestion of Mr. Christopher "Slim" Rodrigue (who currently plays bass and sings for The Transmission), although I cannot remember where I purchased it. In any case, the cover alone, which features the band's vintage gear left on stage in front of a shimmering golden curtain peppered with 45s, was enough to catch my eye at the time (maybe 2003?) with or without the suggestion from Slim. And on the back of the CD, amongst glowing text from Russell O' Day is a rather small photo of the three female members of the band, bedecked in fetching gowns, dolled-up, posing with their instruments, and being very Japanese. Brilliant already.

This CD is among the several in my collection that I typically neglect for some time, before turning an eye to it, wondering why I even have it, taking a listen, and remembering exactly why. There is no doubt that the 5.6.7.8's are among the best garage rock & roll bands around.

Is there some kitsch value to owning the record? Of course. Ronnie "Yoshiko" Fujiyama and Screaming "Omo" Chellio Panther's vocals do evoke a smirk at times, as their accents make many of the lyrics completely unintelligible (not that intelligibility is ever of high value for garage rock). The kitsch fest that is Kill Bill put the striking aspects of the band to good use, and although such things might be distracting, one should note that the gals can truly play, and do truly rock.

Score: 7 1/2 out of 10 (would be higher, but it's in a jewel case)

Shall I keep it? Yes, certainly. At least until the great jewel case purge of 2050 Stephen_, StephenCD_

Stephen's Introduction: An Explanation of Sorts

This blog is loosely centered around the idea that, to quote the King of All Cosmos, the world is full of things, many of these things are "owned" by someone, and those things have stories around and in them. Also, as a sort of a conceptual coda, there is also the idea that most people in the well-to-do West have too many things and should probably get rid of them. Wendel Barry has probably written about this somewhere.

I intially wanted to create a blog so that I could discuss (likely with no one but myself) the media that I own, having a sort of running conversation and even a debate, perhaps in the process, purging myself of things that I neither need nor actually want. Thus, that is what I'll be doing, most of the time, focussing on physical media, that is. I shall acknowledge out front that I likely have too much of just about everything, including books and CDs. But, I do not neccesarily think that a life of divestiture is the key to a happy life, although having a reasonable relationship with your things is an important step in the right direction. To quote another King who looked upon His creation: "It is good."

Anyhow, welcome and enjoy your stay, looking through all of our things.Stephen_, Introduction_