And so I give you: To the Rooftops: Demos and Songs 2008-2009

They’re all up for free download on the Last.fm website. Give them a listen too. For those of you who were at one of our shows, a few of the other staple songs like Pet Wolf, Covers/Sheets or I’m Gone may be included in a second release if there’s enough interest for it. We’ll see how it pans out.

Here’s some photos:

Running now through January 3rd. Mondays and Holidays are dark.

And there she is, out on the dance floor.  It appears she’s all alone, and twisting and contorting along with the thumping house beat like she was getting paid for it.  She’s poetry in motion, a siren calling you out from a cliffside.  She’s even made eye contact with you, and occasionally pursing her lips and batting her eyelashes.  And you’re all “Me?  Really?”  You check to see if other men may be the target of this longdistance body language, but you’re not focused enough to tell.  Maybe there are, maybe there ain’t.

Before your golden window is missed, you make a move and pounce.  A B-line straight for her, but she’s dancing away from you, almost coyly.  This excites you, but then you realize you’re not alone.  A little over half a dozen other male suitors are on the prowl as well, and closing in fast.  One elbows you not-so-accidentally in the ribs.  Another trips his own best friend for a better chance to be near her.  Your inner animal instincts flare to life over your psyche, the red mist of jealousy seeps in the corners of your eyes.  This shit is getting real.  You consider hurling your martini glass into your fellow man’s undeserving face.  Welcome to the heat run, and you’ve got to step up your game in a serious way if you want the victory girl.

I’ve never been through this, and chances are you haven’t either, but we all know the competition, especially in the realm of courting a mate.  Once the temperature and testosterone are on the rise, rationality and common sense fall to the wayside.  Women are the leading cause of stabbing your best friend, or worse, a stranger, in the back.  And it is no different in nature’s kingdom, particularly the kingdom of Animalia, Phylum of Mammalia, in the Order of Cetacea.  For the first time, marine biologists have filmed the humpback whales’ incredible and titanic mating ritual.

I could foray and foment into my near-obsessive infatuation with the overwhelming love and respect I have for the species, but that’s unnecessary.  Just watch these giants of the sea chasing some tail (pun totally intended) and maybe you’ll feel a little of the awe as well.

The humpback sow makes the bulls WORK for it, am I right?  Talk about playing hard to get.  Survival of the fittest be damned.  And I thought there was somebody out there for everybody.  I guess the unlucky bulls just got to find themselves a slower sow.  Man.  Have a happy Thanksgiving everybody.

But the only person I’m killing on thanksgiving has been my constant companion all month long: my beard.  It’s been a long and strong No Shave November, and it shows.  I’m scruffy, ruffly, and no doubt fluffy.  And throughout everything grey November threw at me, it stuck around.  Instantly a discussion piece and a noble cause I could stand behind, steadfast and resilient.  500 other men stood beside me, throughout the New England area.

But it must go.  It’s about to get much colder, and whiter, and harder.  The time has come for wooling the windows, stoking the fire, and buckling down your bootstraps.  Writing more, forgetting less.  My radiator clangs and bangs to life, fighting with me against the dreadful winter to come.  I have to buy khaki’s, or chino’s, I’m really not sure.  The leisure and thrill of my bicycle must be sacrificed.  Gloves, not mittens, and thick high-rising boots, my aunt works at Beans, she’s get a crazy discount.

You know November has come when you’re better off than you were September, but nowhere ready for the demon days of December.  Hell, Christmas is going to sneak up on me this year, I just know it, but through career choices I might actually have presents for everybody, which will be a big step up from last year.  Good evening, Potential, and see you tomorrow.  And good job with the beards, guys.

Operation Cornflakes was a World War II Office of Strategic Services PSYOP mission in 1944 and 1945 which involved tricking the German postal service Deutsche Reichspost into inadvertently delivering anti-Nazi propaganda to German citizens through mail. The operation involved special planes that were instructed to airdrop bags of false, but properly addressed mail in the vicinity of bombed mail trains. When recovering the mail during clean-up of the wreck, the postal service would hopefully confuse the false mail for the real thing and deliver it to the various addresses.

2. Terrified that a waiter will/won’t take/leave your entree/salad? Learn the silent service code.

The silent service code is a way for a diner to “talk” to servers during a meal without saying a word, mainly to tell them that the diner is finished. This will prevent any embarrassing situations where the server would take a meal prematurely. To tell a server you are finished (only a cut of meat is ‘done’), place your napkin to the left of your plate, and place all your utensils together in a “4-o’clock” position on your plate. Utensils crossed on a plate signify that a diner is still eating. If you must leave during the meal, you should place the napkin on your chair to avoid any confusion.

3. If you speak English a ticking clock sounds like “tick tock.” If you speak Korean it sounds like “ddok-ddak ddok-ddak.” These are called “cross-linguistic onomatopoeias.”

Because of the nature of onomatopoeia, there are many cross-linguistic cognates of onomatopoetic sounds. The following is a list of some conventional examples: [including car horns, kissing, pigs, balloons bursting, and water dripping]

4. Thanksgiving is the perfect time to go over your knowledge of Norse mythology. Bone up on some Odin, peruse some Valhalla, and make sure you’re prepared for some Ragnarok.

Norse mythology has its roots in Proto-Norse Iron Age Scandinavian prehistory. It flourishes during the Viking Age and following the Christianization of Scandinavia during the High Middle Ages passed into Scandinavian folklore, some aspects surviving to the modern day. The mythology from the Romanticist Viking revival came to be an influence on modern literature and popular culture.

5. Sometimes it’s comforting to remember that the hedonic treadmill means we can never really be as happy as we want to be. Or maybe “comforting” isn’t the right word….

Brickman and Campbell coined the term “Hedonic Treadmill” in their essay “Hedonic Relativism and Planning the Good Society” (1971), which appeared in M.H. Apley, ed., Adaptation Level Theory: A Symposium, New York: Academic Press, 1971, pp 287–302. The theory has consequences for understanding happiness as both an individual and a societal goal. The concept was modified by Michael Eysenck, a British psychology researcher during the late nineties, to refer to the hedonic treadmill theory which compares the pursuit of happiness to a person on a treadmill, who has to keep working just to stay in the same place. Humans rapidly adapt to their current situation, becoming habituated to the good or the bad. We are more sensitive to our relative status: both that which we recently have and that which we perceive others to enjoy.

Now through the wonders of Wikipedia I managed to stumble across the J.M. Smucker Co. page (Willard Scott -> McDonalds -> Ronald McDonald -> Willard Scott -> Smucker’s) and was struck by a list of slogans on the page. Apparently Smucker’s hires most of it’s marketing people from it’s target demographic, as some of the slogans sound like they’ve come from the mouth of a two year old.

Diana Fuller, head of advertising.

Here are some gems:

“With a name like Smucker’s, it has to be good!”

Okay Smucker’s, I grew up on this one. I don’t know why the Smucker’s name has to be good but perhaps there’s something I’m missing. Maybe “smuck” is the Igbo word for excellence. Maybe it’s all just lies.

“Smucker will make you pucker!”

A rhyme scheme! Good job. I have certainly puckered after jamming two spoonfuls of delicious raspberry jam in my mouth.

“Smucker Company, the brand you can trust”

You know when you were a kid and you tied your brother to a rock and left him in the woods overnight? And when your Mom called you in for dinner you blurted out “I DIDN’T TIE KEVIN TO A ROCK!” just to make sure your innocence in the matter was clear? Yeah. I kind of feel like this is something along these lines. Should I not trust other jams? Is Welch’s planning some sinister coup? Are they communists? IS THAT WHY ALL THEIR JAMS ARE RED?!?!

Trust no one but Smucker’s.

“There ain’t no place like Smucker’s!”

How does this sell jelly? This makes me want to travel. Is Smucker’s offering an extra three nights stay if I book a four day vacation?

“The only brand of jams that can make a piece of bread lively!”

I once left a slice of toast with jam on it out on the counter and then went on vacation for three weeks. When I got back I was confronted by the most lively piece of bread I have ever seen.

“Smucker’s may be yummy, your tummy may be too, but your grocer’s freezer, is not far from you!“

How can my tummy be yummy? Unless… wait… Smucker’s may be yummy, yes. My stomach, steeped as it is in high fructose corn syrup and strawberry chunks may be yummy as well, but only to cannibals… And what was that about a freezer? Not to far from me? As in not to far ahead in my future? Wait a second, jams don’t need to be frozen… The only thing that needs to be frozen are peas, corn, ice cream and… and…

And flesh…

Oh my God…

“Bread, jam and jelly, in your belly, lick your spoon and cut your bread, then you will be Smucker’s well fed”

Yes. Yes. I get it now… You think you’re clever, Smucker’s. You think you can hide in plain sight, flaunting it to everyone through your seemingly “innocent” ads but you’re fattening us. You’re fattening us on sweets. Fattening us until the time is right. When we’re to bloated with corn-syrup to move. Then you’ll strike. The pendulum will swing back and you’ll take each pound you’ve put into us with your precious jellies. But not me. I know the truth. I know that each one of you, down to the last canner on the last production line, each one of you are bloody cannibals… Cannibals that won’t stop until you’ve eaten us all…

There is no hope.

- Stay tuned for next month’s installment where I investigate the secret history of the Spirograph!

*Only really rich people know that Beluga whales have caviar. The idea that they are mammals and therefore don’t produce roe is a lie to keep the lower classes from rising up.

An Act to Remove Protections Based on Sexual Orientation from the Maine Human Rights Act, Eliminate Funding of Civil Rights Teams in Public Schools, Prohibit Adoptions by Unmarried Couples, Add a Definition of Marriage, and Declare Civil Unions Unlawful

It’s true.

I am furious. Spread the word.