Tag Archives: entertainment

Tunes. For you. Enjoy.

Richie Havens and Rachid Taha concert poster

Richie Havens and Rachid Taha concert poster

There haven’t been music posts on this blog for a long time. I’ve been lazy. But, thankfully, Rachid Taha has the same tastes in music that I do. So, I’m letting his guest visit to the Radio France studios stand in for one of the carefully crafted play lists you’ve come to know and love here. Plus, there is a bonus treat at the end from his show with Richie Havens who passed away on Tuesday. Believe me, the post is a win-win for you and me both.

Now, clink on the link to be taken to the vinyl lovers’ music fest courtesy of Radio France: Rachid Taha Radio Vinyle

Oh, what the heck. I’ll include a couple of Rachid Taha’s songs, too.

This is Taha’s version of the song he chose at the end of the Radio Vinyle spot.

Yes, that is the song made famous by Elvis Presley. Jeanne Added’s cool vocals sort of remind me of Nico’s work with the Velvet Underground.

Just a sweet little moment backstage with the late Richie Havens.


The Office Party

So, it’s that time of year again. No matter your religion (or disbelief in altogether), this is the time of year when working stiffs the world over find themselves as unwilling participants in office parties. You may love your co-workers. They might be like family to you, but if your family is anything like mine, the last thing you want to do is spend hours with them making small talk over a pecan roll. As if familial type dysfunction isn’t enough, Transman is almost always socially awkward, as these photos from the office party attest.

Things started out awkward:

"Why did you tell me it was a costume party?!" Transman complains to his work spouse, played by the lovely Jean Harlow. (William Powell will yet again stand in for Transman.)

“Why did you tell me it was a costume party?!” Transman complained to his work spouse, played by the lovely Jean Harlow. (William Powell will yet again stand in for Transman.)

And just continued on that way:

Transman rushed home and changed clothes, but then got stuck in the elevator.

Transman rushed home and changed clothes, but then got stuck in the elevator.

Then, there was a mix-up with the whole "Secret Santa" thing. "Transman! The rules explicitly say no gifts over $5!"

There was a mix-up with the whole “Secret Santa” thing. “Transman! The rules explicitly say no gifts over $5!” Meanwhile his work rival promised she had found “the absolute most perfect gift ever!” for their boss.

Transman had forgotten that he had signed up to bring the hors d'oeuvres (hell, he couldn't even spell it, so why he signed up to bring it remains a mystery.) Luckily, he had three loaves of Wonderbread and a jar of Sanka in his office, so everyone feasted on dry toast and black coffee.

Transman had forgotten that he had signed up to bring the hors d’oeuvres (hell, he couldn’t even spell the word, so why he signed up to bring them remains a mystery.) Luckily, he had three loaves of Wonder Bread and a jar of Sanka in his office, so everyone feasted on dry toast and black coffee.

"At least I remembered the drinks," scoffed one of the managers. "Here, make yourself useful and pass this tray around."

“At least I remembered the drinks I signed up to bring,” scoffed one of the managers. “Here, make yourself useful and pass this tray around.”

Transman listened in on the office gossip and found out awful things about himself. "And then I saw Transman with his fool head stuck in the elevator ... he's right behind me, isn't he?"

Transman listened in on the office gossip and found out awful things about himself. “And then I saw Transman with his fool head stuck in the elevator; what a stooge … he’s right behind me, isn’t he?”

Transman's card tricks went over like a lead balloon.

Transman’s card tricks went over like a lead balloon.

Transman had to face one of his greatest fears--cutting a cake in public. "Really, you don't want me doing this. I failed geometry three times."

Transman had to face one of his greatest fears–cutting a cake in public. “Really, you don’t want me doing this. I failed geometry three times.”

Transman can't even explain what was going on here; let's just say everyone is lucky they're still employed.

Transman can’t even explain what was going on here; let’s just say everyone is lucky they’re still employed.

Everyone wished each other  happy holidays while secretly longing to make an escape. Unfortunately, the boss kept calling for everyone to sing "just one more chorus of 'Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer'!"

Everyone wished each other happy holidays while secretly longing to make an escape. Unfortunately, the boss kept calling for everyone to sing just one more chorus of her favorite Christmas song, “Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer.”


Even the bots are hacks

"I'm watching you from anywhere and everywhere at once!"

“I’m watching you from anywhere and everywhere at once!”

Spambots are losing their creativity. A recent bot visitor copied text from the very post it was “commenting” on and submitted it.

This is the paragraph our bot friend copied:

“Okay, maybe he’s not a real pirate, but if you love Monty Python, Marty Feldman, and pirates, then you might have a soft spot for 1983′s Yellowbeard, starring Graham Chapman as the title character, which was reportedly inspired in part by Keith Moon.”

For a moment, Transman wondered why the bot would copy this particular paragraph. Then, he realized that the paragraph, like those written by most bots, is a little hard to follow with all the commas and awkward phrasing and strings of subjects; the bot was only copying what resonated deep within its electrodes.

For fun, Transman used the I Write Like site to get another computer’s opinion of the text. He entered it with quotation marks and was told he writes like David Foster Wallace. When he removed the quotation marks, the computer suggests that he writes like Cory Doctorow*, Kurt Vonnegut, or Stephen King. Clearly, Transman has missed his calling as a sci-fi/fantasy/horror writer.

Transman’s heart almost burst with joy when the computer told him he writes like James Joyce.

"Listen to this Philippe, 'Transman's soul swooned as he realized had typed the same words, the same words as Joyce and Beckett and Shakespeare and all those other crumbling ashy writers from the past," Joyce shares a note with Soupault.

“Listen to this Philippe: ‘Transman’s soul swooned as he realized had typed the same words, the same exact words as Joyce and Beckett and Shakespeare and all those other crumbling ashy writers from the past.’ Rubbish!” Joyce shares a note with Soupault.

Son 2, it should be noted, writes like Margaret Mitchell. Or, Chuck Palahniuk, depending on the text the computer was scanning.

"Well, of course, we write alike. We're cat lovers, you know." Margaret Mitchell points out her connection to Son 2.

“Well, of course, we write alike. We’re cat lovers, you know.” Margaret Mitchell points out her connection to Son 2. “And very good looking people, I might add.”

"I'm kind of fond of lamb, myself," Chuck Palahniuk said.

“I’m kind of fond of lamb, myself,” Chuck Palahniuk said.

* Doctorow’s bio on his blog was still within its expiry date at the time this was composed; if you view it after St. Patrick’s Day 2013, then Transman is not responsible for any out-of-date info. Neither is Mr. Doctorow.


Obligatory Thanksgiving Post (starring William Powell)

“Hey, I’m not doing all the cooking myself. Get in that kitchen and make some noise with the pots and pans,” the imaginary Mrs. Transman said this morning.

“Excuse me, is this ‘the refrigerator’? Is this where food comes from?”

“I found these hard-boiled eggs in the fridge. We can arrange our feast around them,” Transman said. Mrs Transman replied, “You’re an idiot, darling. Try again.”

“Criminy, Mr. Barker, I don’t know how to cook. You gotta help me. The imaginary Mrs. Transman will leave me if I screw this up.”

“I found a goat. Maybe we could make cheese!” Mrs. Transman said, “You’ve got to be kidding me. P.S., you need to shave.” Transman said, “No way, I’m part of that whole Bloggers for Movember thing.”

“There! You happy now?!” Transman said after he’d gotten all gussied up, “Look, I can pour a drink without getting a drop on my suit.” Mrs Transman said, “I guess that will do; now, about the food …”

“I just need a snack and then I’ll get right to basting the turkey. Hey, I didn’t want the goat milk to go to waste.”

“A quick bike ride to burn off that ice cream cone. Wait … is that smoke billowing out of the kitchen window? The turkey’s on fire?! Crap, Mrs. Transman is gonna kill me.”

“Look, a coupon for Chang’s Chinese Mexican Fondue Buffet. It says they’ll be open Thanksgiving Day,” Transman said and handed Mrs. Transman the paper, too afraid to make eye contact with her.

“I’ll hold the baby while you pack the diaper bag and then we’ll be on our way to Chang’s!”

“I had no idea that my tags were expired officer. It’s Thanksgiving. I have to get my family to Chang’s because I incinerated the turkey … you understand, don’t you? No? We can’t go anywhere in this car with expired tags? Yes, yes, I understand. Thank you.”

“You just hang on, honey, I’ll get us there!”

“We’ll sit with the beautiful people! All of us are so good looking we have no practical skills like cooking. We’ve never needed them.”

“Transman! There’s nothing but tropical fruit left on the buffet!”

Transman looked deeply into her eyes and said, “Your love is all the sustenance I need.” Mrs. Transman’s heart melted along with her anger.

“Happy Thanksgiving, Transman! I’ll always be more popular than you!”


‘C’mere, you!’

“Me? Cuddly? Are you f*#$&@n’ kidding me?!” Robert De Niro photographed by Slaven Vlasic.

For the two people who landed on this blog with the search term “Robert De Niro cuddly,” here ya go–pictures of Bobby Milk (as his childhood friends called him) showing off his soft, non-psychotic-loner-with-an-arsenal-of-weapons-side:

Bob and Ice Cube.

Bob and Jeff Bridges.

Bob and Meryl Streep.

Bob and Jennifer Lawrence.

Bob and Martin Scorsese on the set of Taxi Driver in 1976. “Bobby, do you think we’ll always be friends?” “Yes, Marty, I do.” “You promise?” “Yes, I promise.”

Bob and Marty more recently in Berlin. “See, Marty, I told ya we’d always be friends!” “Yes, Bobby, you sure did!”


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