Category Archives: Don’t Know Don’t Care
The Cranberries
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Filed under Bad Influences, Comix Classic & Current, Don't Know Don't Care, Faint Signals, Girls of BIUL, Worst Of All, Zappalogy
Suede
There are easier people in the world to draw than Gervais as David Brent. Just FYI.
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Filed under Comix Classic & Current, Don't Know Don't Care, Faint Signals, Late To The Party
A Pirate Looks At 44
I meant to use that title four years ago, when I turned 40. Then today, when I turned 44, I figured that using the title unchanged would confuse Jimmy Buffett searches. Buffett’s song, “A Pirate Looks At 40”, is one I have not heard before, but I’ve read the lyrics, and I understand it’s one of Buffett’s better tunes. So I replaced “40” with “44”, to set it apart.
Originally, I planned to use “butt pirate”, but there’s really only one definition to that phrase, and it’s not one that describes me. It would have made a funny title, but it also would have netted me a lot of attention, mostly unwanted. From pirates of butts, I’m guessing. They’d email me pictures of their hooks and peglegs, with the message “YARRRRR!!! I BE PLUNDERIN’ BOOTY!!!” Right? I’m not caught up on my pirate culture. Continue reading
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Filed under Comix Classic & Current, Don't Know Don't Care, Idiot's Delight, Site Stuff, Uncategorized
The 200th Post
Next month marks the second anniversary of the BANDS I USETA LIKE website, and here we are; the 200th post. I’m sure you couldn’t care less, but you helped make this possible, and in the 13 years I ran Mike The Pod online, I maybe cracked a hundred actual articles.
So let’s mark the occasion with a peek at the cover of BANDS I USETA LIKE III, yes?
That’s the magazine that will complete your summer, heading your way around the time you start buying fireworks in bulk. So buy this too. It would be a crime if you didn’t.
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Filed under Bad Influences, Comix Classic & Current, Don't Know Don't Care, Idiot's Delight, Magazine Rack, Site Stuff
Puttin’ On The Hits
I don’t hate karaoke. Really, I don’t.
I don’t do it myself, either, but I don’t equate it with actual performance. Karaoke is for fun; a diversion. Plus, I’m old enough to remember the first karaoke joke on The Simpsons, when the gag was that it was something Japanese people did. It was the successor to the camera strapped around the neck.
Now, not only is karaoke available in a home version, but late-night talk show hosts burn air time “lip-syncing” “popular” (corporate-backed) songs. The boring blond from Amos & Andy For Nerds, excuse me, I mean The Big Bang Theory, lip-synced her way through a Ludacris song where almost every other word is “bitch”. The idea being, look at this little white girl act “gangsta”. As long as the star is corporate-backed, this is “empowerment”. What do you imagine happens if someone without a hit show* tries this? Continue reading
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Filed under Don't Know Don't Care, Faint Signals, Idiot's Delight, Worst Of All
Why I Love Jar Jar Binks
As the venerable Star Wars imprint slowly transforms into an empowerment series for little girls who wear costumes and bitter old fanboys, one of my favorite aspects is being scrubbed from the narrative:
Weird, stupid aliens.
He attempts to eat that dead Woodring monster.
I’ll never comprehend the segregationist nature of the “Star Wars fan”. Watching the fandom dismiss George Lucas, the creator of everything they care about, has been like observing a schism of zealots. Since general audiences weren’t born in the 80s, when ripoffs of Star Wars abounded, they gladly accepted a ripoff from J.J. Abrams. Continue reading
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Filed under Bad Influences, Don't Know Don't Care, Faint Signals, Idiot's Delight, Movies You Missed, Nostalgic Obsessions, Saturday Movie Matinee, Unfairly Maligned
8 Shots Of Absinthe
(The following report originally appeared on Mike The Pod in December of 2007, and was written in the Pod studio.)
Around this time either last year or the year before, I acquired four bottles of absinthe from a company overseas in a republic that may no longer exist. My confusion over the exact year will make more sense after you’ve read this; also I’m too lazy to look up the dates on the pictures. Rest assured however, that what you are about to read is, embarrassingly, the truth.
I’d always wanted to try absinthe, after enjoying the work of so many followers of the “green devil” since childhood. Van Gogh? Picasso? Hemingway? You got it. In fact, it’s often speculated that absinthe made Vinny the unbearable beast he was in his final days, and shit, Hemingway became so determined to kill himself late in life that he was restrained from doddering into a whizzing plane propeller. Some claim absinthe has hallucinogenic properties, but nobody disputes that it tastes like bile hot from Satan’s fucking spleen. Continue reading
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Filed under Bad Influences, Don't Know Don't Care, Eatable Things, Faint Signals, Idiot's Delight
Kidd Video
Parallel universes figure into popular science fiction every so often, but whereas now they are used to explain inconsistencies, in the past they were an intriguing alternative to outer space as a setting. The short-lived TV show Otherworld from 1985 is one example, with its no-frills labels (like in Repo Man) and dumb upside-down pistols. A better-known version of the concept is the cartoon Kidd Video, which aired on NBC Saturday mornings around the same time.
(l-r) Ash, Whiz, Kidd, Carla. Yes, the nerd with yellow hair is called “Whiz”.
Everything I’ve mentioned thus far sucks to varying degrees (well, except Repo Man). But because of that “parallel universe” icing, the crap tasted sweeter than cake. Continue reading
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Filed under Animation Analysis, Don't Know Don't Care, Faint Signals, Girls of BIUL, Idiot's Delight, Nostalgic Obsessions, Zappalogy
A Fart In The Face
Earlier this year I crossed a boundary with the dog.
This is a different dog.
I’d eaten some godawful fried thing or another, and feeling a buildup of gas, I leaped over to the dog, crouched directly above his face, and knocked a king-size fart across his nose.
Triumphant, I turned to face the dog, expecting adoration for this generous gastric flotilla. Instead, the dog regarded me with a reproachful look, the kind I expect people receive when they jiggle their comatose grandmother’s breast for a family photo.
“What’s the matter?” I asked the dog in plain English, as though he would reply in kind. “Don’t you, a dog, enjoy the smell of shit?” Continue reading
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Filed under Bad Influences, Don't Know Don't Care, Faint Signals, Idiot's Delight, Worst Of All
I Don’t Like The Drugs (But The Drugs Like Me)
“The sedative for coughs”, until 1913.
Here in Atlanta’s Little Five Points neighborhood, we lost another local musician to heroin. I won’t write his name here, because I don’t want to inextricably link him with the drug that killed him. But there’s an anguished frustration every time this happens, when the needle takes yet one more.
Junk has been a cancer on music since before Charlie Parker played a note. It has taken too many casualties to list here. It seeps into cinema and art like toxic groundwater. No one does better work while on heroin. It improves no experience; it only makes one atrophy. What it does, is put your soul in terrible pain, and then dulls it. Nothing it does helps you or anyone else in any legitimate way. Continue reading
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Filed under Bad Influences, Don't Know Don't Care, Idiot's Delight, Worst Of All
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