Info about the DrinkOrDie busts...
You know, what the fuck are federal agencies but hired goons at the beck and call of Das Kapital? It irks me that they think this will stand. Sure, mainstream distribution of mp3s and warez will go down, but more pirates than ever will go underground, and encrypted, and secretive. It also irks me that these busts are most blatantly linked to the anti-terrorist act that followed September 11. It doesn't take a genious to see that the US, and much of the western world is suffering a clampdown of civil rights, and most seem to go along with it.
Another example: sometime this autumn, the Swedish government managed to pass a law that allows EU law enforcement agencies to wiretap people in Sweden, although wiretapping is a criminal offence in Sweden. Likewise, Swedish law enforcement agencies can order wiretaps of Swedish citizens in other EU countries.
Yet another example: 3 Africans who are Swedish citizens have had all their accounts frozen for a couple of months, just because the US government said (with no proof yet presented) that these three guys had been slushing money for Al-Qaida. No questions asked.
You should also listen to Sage Francis' "Makeshift Patriot". One of the most well-written political hiphop joints since Disposable Heroes of Hiphopricy were still around, I daresay!
On a totally unrelated note, I think that Strokes and Black Rebel Motorcycle Club are grossly overhyped.
Friday, December 14, 2001, 02:33 p.m.
FreeMe.zip
Yet another proof of the inherent weaknesses in CP schemes. Why spend millions of dollars of something we all know cannot feasibly work until programs are based on instable particles...
On another note, I'm glad to hear most scientists today seem to agree that we (protohumans) used to live in the water, swimming, diving, wading. It feels kind of logical. I love water. It tastes good, it feels good. Water rocks.
By the way: I'm proud to be a geek.
Tuesday, December 4, 2001, 11:25 a.m.
Buck's got a label
My old friend Buck has started his own little record label, who have yet to release something, but 10 points for the effort so far. First up will be rockabilly punksters 69 Hard with a full length out real soon.
Other than that, this was a rough ass week...
wed: cocktail party at Krogarfar & Annas place. Flaming Sideburns concert at Smålands (which after 7 stiff drinks and a couple of beers I have a hard time reminisceing about) a bit later. Later still, afterparty at Ariman. Even later, half a glass of wine at home before going to sleep.
thu: had the day off. Slept most of the day. Bought pizza slices - yum! -, candy, Julmust (a swedish yuletide soda) and laid in the sofa watching 15 Simpsons episode before retreating to bed once again.
fri: was dizzy and tired most of the day. Sent lots of email. At 9 PM, Nicke & Micke came to my place where we had some wine & beer, listening to music. After a few hours we took a cab to neighbouring city Malmö to see a Chip Taylor concert featuring red hot violinist Kerry/Terry/whatever Rodriguez who singlehandedly unleached gallons of audience testosterone. Sweet jesus. Went to bed 3.30 in the morning
sat: woke at 10. Went up & out. Bought some comics (new Optic Nerve, finally!), made some breakfast. Went home to Cheb Oman for a trip to Simrishamn, where a couple of friends spent the day & night eating goose and drinking wine. It was fun, especially the 3 2-year old kids that were with us. Gee whiz, I like those kids! I started missing when I worked in a kindergarten way back when. Even being woke up by Nora at 7.30 in the morning was cool. Fun, even.
sun: came home again at 3 PM. Surfed some, burned some CDs. Went home to Martin, played some Diablo 2, ate great veggie samose and drank lemonade while watching Star Trek. Maria & Lovisa came with freshly baked cookies, and we had coffee & watched a Gibbon monkey special. After 45 minutes of Conan, I went home. And slept.
Monday, November 26, 2001, 12:34 p.m.
Obscene Interiors 2
I got laid off from one of my jobs two days ago. Big deal. It doesn't bother me that I'll only work half time after february. It will hopefully make me come up with a job that is more interesting than the one I got laid off from (and now I can listen to Bill Hicks' "Advertising" skit again without feeling like a cop-out).
So, big deal. But something totally different that feels a little irritating is that a friend has gotten totally quiet. She doesn't respond to emails, and never turns on her icq. Let me jump back in time: a nice person starts working at the university department where I "work". Her work there does that she has to ask me for help with different things. We become kind of friends, communicating all day long via icq and email, even though we're in the same building. She's witty and smart and a cool person to talk to. Jump forward to this spring. She gets a PhD study spot at the department, and decides to turn off her icq. She almost stops visiting my room, but when she does she's all smiley as usual. (She hasn't stopped by for a couple of months, though.) She barely responds to mail, and my last three has not garnered a response. I wonder if I've done anything to alienate her, but I'm sure I haven't.
Anyway: it feels like I had a good friend that suddenly decided to end the friendship. And that fucking sucks and makes me fucking sad. That's much worse than losing a job. Perhaps I'm just too sensitive.
Thursday, November 15, 2001, 04:04 p.m.
la malinchista
Umm. I was going to write some poignant stuff the other day, but pitas was down, and now when it's up, I totally forgot what to write. I just feel pissed. I dind't yesterday, though. Then I saw a free screening of Rush Hour 2, and I must tell you: I fucking love Jackie Chan. I know of no other actor that always brings a smile to my face. Heck, the movie was filled with semi-sexist, -racist and whatnot stuff, but honestly I don't give a good goddamn. I walked out happy and a bit exhilarated. By the way, that Ziyi Zhang is one fucking peach. Evil little brat, though.
And oh I got my bathroom back. I'm squeaky fucking clean now. Smell me!
Friday, November 9, 2001, 10:42 a.m.
I found Trouble again [or she found me]
Yes. I was very happy to find a mail from Trouble/DJ Ripley who used to write one of the few personal webpages I actually read in my mailbox this morn. Thanks! Now I feel like I'm back in the loop. L to the O to the O to the motherlovin' P.
I re-read some of my posts yesterday and concluded (not unlike Sherlock H.) that most of them lack something. Panache & style & flair for one thing. Suaveness, too. Most of them are whining little pesky posts that use the F-word to a ridiculously large extent. Also, self-bashing seems to be a popular subject. But I won't diss those posts, since they follow a rule I made a long long time ago: that all posts should be written in the spur of the moment, and that no grammatical errors should be corrected after the post is made. call it dogme-style diarizing. Diarize this, compañero!
What takes up most of my brain-cycles, though, are that my bathroom/toilet/shower has been in a state of repair for 3 weeks and 6 days today. So:
* No shower at home for 27 days
* No shaving (not that I shave a lot) or washing in the washbasin for 20 days
* No n:o one, nor n:o two at home for 8 days
I have to tellya, this honestly sucks. it's not so bad, actually, but it sucks quite the big one anyway. When I feel that I need to build a log cabin or whatnot, I don't want to be reduced to use the dirty one in the basement that hasn't been used since WWII. When I feel icky & sticky and downright dirty, I don't want to have to walk over to a friend and take a long wholesome shower there. It ails me, godammit.
"I'm the incredible butt ninja" [The Isolationist]. Well, I am. At least these days...
Tuesday, November 6, 2001, 09:36 a.m.
Grunnen: home of r'n'r
What the holy hell is an "anal cheerleader"? Is it some kind of freudian thing, that oral/anal personality shiznitz?
And on another note:
Fuck you, AudioGalaxy! Suck my left one! Them bums has changed the login protocol, refusing to divulge it, leaving mac users yet again with no client, since the little weasles were to fucking incompetent to write one of their own. Fucking buncha pussies.
Monday, November 5, 2001, 09:37 a.m.
Hamell on Trial - a nice chap
Fuck. It's been a while since I saw something that blew me away, concertwise. Last night I saw Hamell on Trial, a rotund guy around 40 who totally KICKED ASS! Hammering away on a beaten acoustic, dropping some of the funniest lyrics I've ever heard. He's like an acoustic punk poetryslamming to incredibly fierce strumming. Playing something like 250 nights a year, doing tribute songs to Bill Hicks and telling jokes, Hamell is a oneman show that puts all other oneman shows to shame. Word, fuck-o.
Euphoric. That's how I felt afterwards.
Friday, October 26, 2001, 02:26 p.m.
Hicksville ain't a bad place to be.
I could have been a contender, god damn it!
But instead I spend my time leading a totally unfulfilling life, with an unfulfilling job. I spend much of my spare time in front of a computer, doing mostly nothing. Except aimlessly chatting, and chatting smutty to a large extent, to boot. I do it too much. You all know that's a one-track mind thing, a one-way road to nowhere. Down-fucking-hill.
Anyway, I've been here before, in this semi-vaccuum of illicitness and aimlessness. It will pass. It will be replaced. I yearn for fun that is new and shocking and a revelation. I refuse to toil on for the rest of my life. Fuck it.
Wednesday, October 24, 2001, 11:42 a.m.
Andre motherhumping Williams!
There's no place I'd rather be
There's no place I'd rather be
There's no place I'd rather be
There's no place I'd rather be
Than looking up at you
Looking down at me
Sheer motherfucking poetry. I don't know exactly what Andre means, I can guess, but I don't know. Those 90s records of his are bit uneven, but there are rough diamonds all around. If I was 6, I'd of mimed my way through many-a track from Andre's roster. Heck, what's the use pretending, I mime now, 33 years old and all. He's got one of those not brilliant voices that are highly captivating never the less. He doesn't really moan the above lines, he rather squeal them. Coolest mutha you'd ever see. Dolemite agrees.
Andre's been around since the 50s, co-writing r'n'b classics such as Shake A Tailfeather and primo sleaze tunes such as "Bacon Fat". He's been covered by The Cramps time and time again. He was down and out most of the 80s. Heavy drug abuse had him literally sleeping on the Chicago streets. But He came back, and he came back gooooood.
Sunday, September 30, 2001, 05:24 p.m.
Ellen Forney is cool
I'm sitting home alone on a saturday night, doing laundry & burning CDs. It's pretty cool. I do this too seldom. I decided to not drink anything (alcohol, that is) for a week, and this is day six. I must say it's harder than I thought. Not that I have a physical craving for alcohol, but there are so many social occasions when a beer or a glass of wine fits just right in. Water is OK, too, of course. And milk and coffee, too. But dining with friends... well, suffice it to say: a glass of something alcohol-y fits right in.
Anyway, I just read an interview with Ellen Forney, a really nice cartoonist who (mostly) draws comics about her childhood. She's one helluva nice person, I think, both in her comics and in the interview. Plus she's got a huge Kaz designed tattoo all over her back. Check her out.
Down to the basement for the final laundry now, methinks. Toodle-pip.
Saturday, September 29, 2001, 10:39 p.m.
Chank Army interview
Yassum. My friend Core is interviewed together with the rest of the krazy krew. All of them is not great, typewise, but I like the air of independence any which way. Geek am I.
Thursday, September 27, 2001, 02:11 p.m.
Read some Michael Moore!
I'm so tired of it all: spindoctors, media, cash-in operators. Let's sell a Kill Bin Laden tee-shirt! It's a hoot! We'll earn tons! This is a golden opportunity. Is it only me, or is this America? Golden opportunity, man!
When I still was interested, I found solace in sites such as the abovementioned, Common Dreams and a few other sites.
Why the fuck did everyone have to go gung-ho behind the most moronic president to ever hold the position? What happened to dissent? I know of people who've been threatened at work because "they're unamerikkkan". "WTF! Don't wanna work overtime on a sunday! That's unamerican, man! Maybe you don't want this job?"
What gives? "With us or against us!" What kind of silly statement is that? I fart in their general direction. Why not question? Why the bloodlust? Give me a break or give me death, you fucking idiots!
Wednesday, September 26, 2001, 10:30 a.m.
An American Arab on the situation...
The news is everywhere, everywhere. So little is said, known. Everything is reiterated time and time again. Arabs are blamed, moslems are blamed. So maybe bin Laden is behind this, maybe not. No reason to blame all arabs if that is the case. Should Afghanistan be bombed on a whim, just to make people's bloodlust lessen? Would such a bombing create yet more fanatics?
Let's say that bin Laden or another islamic fundamentalist is behind this. Let's say that he is found and killed together with his entire network. What will happen then? What will happen in the USA? This has been known for ages, and it's actually a wonder that this hasn't happened before: an attack toward USA on it's home soil. What will people be ready to do in order to prevent these things from happening? More power to the military, to the government? Bow down to the benevolent leader of the "free" world.
It's an atrocity, all this. How the spin doctors will use it, how the media is having a field day. How innocent people will suffer and are suffering. Maybe some good will come of it, maybe the western world will gain more of an understanding how it is to live in most of the world. But that is but empty words today, when people are in in pain, in fear and in anger beyond words.
Wednesday, September 12, 2001, 07:38 p.m.
Swedish Ice Cream nostalgia
Perhaps I'm sick, but I often find myself wondering what the heck that old ice cream from my childhood was called. Now I can finally check it out! Yum! And dig those cool graphics on the 60s & 70s posters. Now it's all globalized, same fucking ice cream in every european country. Fuck that shit!
I'm also waiting for the opening of the Kling Ice Cream site, a small ice cream producer that's been around since I was a kid and still has ice cream that was introduced in the 70s.
Tuesday, September 11, 2001, 02:09 p.m.
Tiny Telephone...
...is a wee little mp3 site, featuring tracks recorded in the Tiny Telephone studio, as well as tracks made available by the good people at Epitonic and others. Mostly 128, but it's the thought that counts. Check out Explosion Robinson, Tom Waits' cover of "Books of Moses", Talib Kweli & Mos Def, Danielson Familie, At The Drive-In, Les Savy Fav and Blonde Redhead to mention but a few. Those Danielson Familie ppl are well wierd, yay!
Tuesday, September 11, 2001, 02:32 p.m.
Shadowy Men...
...was just a funny band. And good. They made some kind of comic-strip surf r'n'r, although they stated "We're Not A Fucking Surf Band". Neither, perhaps, are other still existing bands like Langhorns, El Caminos, The Royal Fingers or Robert Johnson & Punchdrunks. But they certainly borrowed part of it: the twang, the leisure. Anyway.
Today I made a list of the current "base" radio list (look left for the link to Kreosot radio). This list is constantly changed, but this was the basis today. From this list you might also get an idea of the stuff that is played. Also, I add entire albums that I rotate heavily. Currently there are full albums playing by Curlee Wurlee, R.L Burnside, Delta 72, El Caminos, The Royal Fingers, Shadowy Men..., Death By Chocolate, Demolition Doll Rods, Black Dog, Ladytron, Freakwater, Andre Williams, Wilco, Slug, Aphex Twin, Sage Francis and the entire brilliant new Nuggets II box set. You listen, boyo!
Thursday, September 6, 2001, 12:52 p.m.
FUCK YOU OZ!
The recent situation with the Afghanian refugees outside Australia is so goddamned shameful: 400 refugees on a much too small Norwegian ship are denied entry to Australia, and the newspapers print headlines such as "GO HOME". Like those people would survive that? And now poor-as-shit East Timor has tentatively suggested that they might be able to accept the refugees. SHAME ON YOU, AUSTRALIA! You should stick to your horses keep fucking sheep instead of people! What, in the name of fuck, do you think it matters that you apologize later, in say 200 years time?
Friday, August 31, 2001, 08:48 a.m.
http://166.90.143.156:12834/ (don't click)
The above address goes to one of the best streaming radio stations there is, namely Gearhead radio. Just paste it into your Audion, MacAST or WinAMP player. What you'll get is music riddled with fumes and actionpacked and rigged for speed. Motoring soundtrack, drinking soundtrack, party soundtrack. Me, I'd of had some more 50s/60s rock'n'roll in there, such as the stuff you can hear on Garage Punk Unknowns, which you must get NOW or you will be FUCKED! Go I wanna fuck Peaches
Well, I think so at least. Today is yet another slow day with too much downloading and too little thinking. Although, seeing as I'm currently reading Cordt Schnibben, one of the best investigative reporters ever. And he writes brilliantly, and often of heavily interesting subjects. I started reading a story about when he goes to meet ex-Lieutenant Caffey (the commanding officer at Song My/My Lai) who only served 2-3 years in prison and now runs a jewelry shop in Kansas City. It's a fucking powerful piece of writing, where Schnibben meets Caffey, but never actually interviews him.
On a brighter note, here's some funny shit!
Tuesday, August 14, 2001, 02:59 p.m.
antiorp + nato m9ndfukcery
I wonder which annoys me more:
a) Microsofts total incompetence
b) The writers of the Code Red worms and the Sircam virus
or
c) The incompetence and ignorance of those who run M$ servers.
It's no biggie, it just annoys me, this whole shiznitz, that's all. It's not the first time, either. I'm really surprised that people don't complain more. They obviously don't mind being spelunkered by ass master Bill on a next-to-daily basis. Complain, you vapid fools! Consumer right, for frig's sake!
On a brighter note, I finally got back my copy of Kyle Baker's Why I Hate Saturn. Damn, I missed that book! Strangely enough, I was thinking about it earlier this week. Oh well. Randomness and fate are illusions.
Good songs to listen to this week: Little Willie John|Fever, Matmos|Spondee, Zeke|¿Donde esta?, The Heroine Sheiks|Effity Eff, Fireballs of Freedom|Horse Mountain, Eddie Spaghetti|Don't Be Cruel, Fink Muncx Four|Coffee, Tea or Me?, Supergenious|Star Wars Breaks(banned by Lucas way back when), DJ Paul Barman|How Hard Is That?, DJ Signify|Mixed Messages, Sage Francis|Drop Bass, Murder City Devils|Rum to Whiskey, Danko Jones|Rock Shit Hot (Live), Bad Brains|The Right Brigade, Beat at Cinecitta|Soho, Kool Keith|Clifton, Chubbies|There's Nothing I Want More, Avengers|The American in Me, Lolita 18|Bobby Tank and perhaps Everton Blender|Slackness...
Thursday, August 9, 2001, 10:21 a.m.
These guys 'know the score'
... but some other people are obviously clueless. By a freak accident, I and a friend flipped channels and ended up being harrassed by Empty-V (thanks, Howard Chaykin), and what a sorry sight it was: some fuckwitted morons (yes, I know that's a double entendre) named "Blind" something or other did a cod-RHCP ballad, tattooed to the gills, and pierced, with tousled hair and shorts and shit. They looked so sadly (and poorly) typecasted into mock-alterna-rap-o-punk that my chin dropped in awe. I mean, who the fuck thinks these things up? It's as silly as that Poochie episode of The Simpsons. As if the band looking like a total joke, and sounding even worse (2 white lame shit cumrags trying to "rap", no less) wasn't enough, the video had them in some sort of mansion, brimming with "hot chicks" with "groovy" tattoos and "foxy" piercings "strutting their stuff" and "letting it all hang out". MAN! that's some sexist corporate feces right there. Those "babes" looked like they had painted-on tattoos and Sta-Prest™ labia. Get some verkakte dignity, for the luvva Pete!
Wednesday, August 1, 2001, 03:16 p.m.
Pleasures:
0. Chopping wood.
1. Listening to Garage Punk Unknowns, samba, old jungle, Subsurfer downtempo mixes, Johnny Cash bootlegs.
2. Reading James Ellroy's The Cold Six Thousand, Ryszard Kapuscinski's The Soccer War, The Simpsons Complete Guide..., John Pilger's The Hidden Agenda, Maya Deren's Divine Horsemen, all three The Authority TPB's, the new 100 Bullets TPB, The Comics Journal "spouse" interview, and reading censored movie scenarios in Kerekes/Slater's See No Evil
3. Having PLENTY of clean white Y-front underwear and a can of GREAT coffee.
4. Watching trash on TV, people, The Emperor of the North, Jackie Chan's Stunts.
5. Napping.
6. Eating all kinds of tasty treats, especially fish. Fish is summer. Gazpacho is summer. Tortilla Español is summer.
7. Drinking Cava, Spritzer, White Russian, Whisky and Soda, Campari+OJ, beer!, ice latte, milk, water, Agua de Valencia, Pacharan, Rioja, heck, I'll drink anything.
8. Sweating because it's warm.
9. Opening all windows so the breeze stirs the apartment...
10. Pissing on nettles.
Monday, July 23, 2001, 08:19 p.m.
My Buddy Frans...
...is finally on the web, and it's good fucking stuff too. Frans is a photographer, and sure enough you can see me in the photos, standing in a barrel and shit. In fact, many of my friends can be seen there, such as illustrator-with-gusto Slim Hel (whose work can be seen at lonegard.se. She's the one with the hedgehog. That photo was taken after me and Hel was DJing two, or maybe three years ago, walking home, really drunk, sun starting to come up, and then we met this hedgehog. Ickle pwetty hedgepiggy. I once killed one by accident. Broke it's back, and didn't notice what I had done until several days later. That felt BAD.
Also, I have a new co-worker at one of my jobs, where it's just him and I. First I thought, hm nice, quiet guy. But then today he told me that he's played digital hardcore, and in the early 80s he was a member of Crude SS, an obviously seminal crust/HC outfit. Cool, say I! I never would have guessed! I read that cover artist Pushead liked them a lot, and reviewed them in MRR way back when...
Friday, June 8, 2001, 02:08 p.m.
Svelte Art Chantry
Yeahrrr! Today I got the Art Chantry book Some People Can't Surf. I love Chantry's work, plus he has excellent ideas about corporate assholism and "corporate culture", eloquently expressed in a Punk Planet interview from a few years back. I guess everyone loves Chantry, though, the reincarnation of punk art. Problem is, with someone as good as Art, you're bound to plagiarize him sooner or later. Next poster i do, surely will be influenced by this book.
Wednesday, June 6, 2001, 08:55 p.m.
Welcome back, Flashback!
After being censored, shut down, boycotted and prosecuted Flashback is up after 33 weeks in Limbo. A controversial site, Flashback has been promoting free speech regardless of political/sexual/social faction. It was mainly shut down due to all 7 major ISPs in Sweden (including KPNQnet West and UUNET) refusing Internet access. If a smaller ISP accepted Flashback as a customer, they were swiftly served cease & desist orders by the majors.
The reason for this was probably due to political pressure: Flashback had, among other things (anarchists, pirates, satanists, kinkoids etc) been (freely) hosting one ultranationalist/fascist/nazi organisation. Now, the organisation in question is totally fringe and totally despicable, and before it all turned into a moral panic, I too was against hosting it. But what the fuck... You can't have it both ways, can you? By marginalizing and isolating ultrarightwing whiteboys you only cause alienation. better to let them say their stupid drivel so that people can judge for themselves. These pathetic worms hang them selves, all the way.
But Flashback is back, and eventhough I read and visit it no more, it was a thouroughly interesting test of free speech in Sweden. I guess it's not over yet.
Friday, May 25, 2001, 10:37 a.m.
Plunderphonics
Lee Oswalds "Plunderphonics" albums has been pretty rare, except as pirated mp3s, since it's been served constraining orders by CBS, RIAA, CRIA, SONY etc. It's a cut-up album in the vein of Negativland and other cut-up artists. I don't know if I can say that they're very good, but it doesn't matter, since they show the absurdity of sample clearances etc. Get it before RIAA and their cohorts of lawyers shut id down!
Remember, all them svelte zaftig blondes will dig you for it!
Monday, May 21, 2001, 02:59 p.m.
A death in the family - Gunnar R.I.P.
This is pretty rough. I'm not a big family person in many ways. Sure, I care a lot about many relatives, but in a way they are constants, excepting my brother, and to a certain extent my parents and grandmother. The prospect of people eventually or suddenly dying never appealed to me. The concept of aging and illness is a concept I keep subdued.
15 minutes ago my mom called. My grandma's brother had died. He was going to be 82 in July this year. Gunnar, his name is. Was. One very constant constant, that had remained exactly the same since I was a child. Gunnar, always happy, a living encyclopedia of the countryside where he had lived all his life. Gunnar, always in dungarees, strong as an ox (for his age, at least. Actually, he had me and my brother lift his heavy-ass anvil - I stretched my back a little - just 3 years ago), building his machines. Gunnar, who had built a wire recorder when my mother was little and recorded her singing. Gunnar, who knew everything about the family history (and flowers and such, too). Gunnar, who singlehandedly built a monument of a watchtower just five years ago, using his old rickety tractor to pull used power line poles up a mountain, then pulling it up using the tractor and a set of wires and tackles attached to the forest around. All the while wearing his dungarees and slippery-soled clogs.
Gunnar, who today was pulling his killer wood chopper juggernaut after his tractor, going to my grandma's, and somehow dying en route.
Mom didn't know how it had happened yet, but it had been some kind of accident. Possibly, some part of the wood chopper had fallen over him when he was fixing it. Possibly, he died violently. Possibly, he had a heart attack from shock, or sudden pain (although pain was something Gunnar seemed impervious to; my brother once saw him almost cutting off a finger, and Gunnar thought it was nothing). Anyway: one of the most constant constants of my life died today, and I feel a sadness upon me. But at the same time, it was so logical that Gunnar, always doing dangerous things using rickety machinery, was to die by accident rather than in bed. He was a tough old buzzard. I will miss him. I will remember him always.
Thursday, May 10, 2001, 11:06 p.m.
