Win? Ween!
What can I say, man? Ween, man. Just got back from a Ween concert, man. Eym drunk, man. Seriously, though: this was the second time I saw Ween, and I must sat that they are - no holds barred - one of the best live bands. not because they're totally fucking rocking, not because they are "touching", but because they're really really nice. Word.
Thursday, August 24, 2000, 12:49 a.m.

I, delirious
Well, what can I say? Bad jpeg compression, really.
Wednesday, August 23, 2000, 10:55 a.m.

MP3IT!
In these days of unfettered inquisitional stigmatizing of MP3, it's refreshing to see folks giving whole albums away. The interface was a bit confusing, and the roster is eclectic to say the least. But the people included are a-ok: Rob Crow, Noam Chomsky, Lesser, Gastr Del Sol, Godspeed You Black Emperor, Tortoise, the Sea and Cake, to mention but a few. Check it out!
Wednesday, August 23, 2000, 10:47 a.m.

Barbie for Stags
What can I say? A fun thing to play with for five minutes or so. Not that I'm into bodybolts & shit, but... well, let's just say that I like to support sub cultures. Although, I must admit that fetishism and such is fairly fucking normal now, and not very subculturous at all. Yes, you may spank me. (Not my words.)
Tuesday, August 22, 2000, 05:25 p.m.

Breakfast of Champions...
...is a movie by the often-semi-irritating director Alan Rudolph, which I saw the other day. An adaption by the Vonnegut novel, this movie surely doesn't pay homage to everyone's palate. On the contrary, IMDB users rate it low. But I liked it, in a way. Sure, it wasn't very moving, but I was kind of stunned. If you're feeling overworked or stressed out, this movie won't do anything to soothe your mind. I was overwhelmed by surreal feelings, and didn't feel at all well.
All in all, entertaining. Bruce Willis & Nick Nolte is truly different here. Weird, but not extremely weird. Actually, it might feel that way just because Rudolph is a shitty, no-good film maker.
Tuesday, August 22, 2000, 01:12 p.m.

Cobra Crunch
- CC is a fanzine by Lisa Darling, with guests such as honk and Little Lord Buck. Seriously, I hope it will evolve and get bigger & bigger. Yow!
- Cerdo radio (look left for link) is up and running once again. I listen to it all the time, myself. My taste in music is SO good and diverse. Yes, I'm available.
- Fuck. Idiot. Cocksucker. Those are all words included in the upcoming Eudora's (5.0) "offensive word list". If you type any nasty word in the subject or body, Eudora will warn you. Jesus fuck! Don't they think that I WELL FUCKING KNOW that I'm typing offensive things? What do I look like, a moron? Oops! That was an offensive word, too! Seriously, Qualcomm must have been invaded by people better off in a goddamned gulag with nothing but bibles to read. Censored bibles...
Monday, August 21, 2000, 04:53 p.m.

Condemned- Fuck the Pedophiles
Let me tell you a sordid wee tale.
Well, maybe not so sordid, but it's about one of my baser doings. I wonder why I should tell a story with such a candor, but here goes: I'm a whore, as a child who does things for candy is a whore. True, that blunt statement is about us all, we wage-slaves. But this is not about work. No. It's about me. (What a wind up, huh?) Anyway. Several months ago I met a woman at a chat and did chat to her on several occasions, mostly on icq. Having almost nothing in common, I still like chatting to people like that. So a while ago, she asked me for help with photoshop, of which she knew next to nothing. I helped her, and she "rewarded" me by sending a pornographic novel she had written. It was fairly run of the mill smut, but it was cool to read anyway.
Then, maybe a month ago, she needed help with HTML (note that we don't know each other or anything). I helped her, and she rewarded me by sending a nude picture. I know, pretty fucking lame, but I still ain't through. This weekend she bought a webcam, and now she needed more help. I mean, it took me no time to do the html, but each thing I've done since then has been "rewarded" with series of newly taken pictures of a pretty god-damned explicit nature. Full frontal and wide open, dig?
My biggest question is "why?" Sure, it matters little to me to help a person in need with matters pertaining to computers & shit. But the whole deal is pretty strange. I mean, I could, technically, post these pics of her, face and all, all over the creation. But I don't. Me, i would never take the risk of taking pictures of myself & sending them to a total fucking stranger. It's a sordid business, but better me than you, no?
This narcissistic streak, I've witnessed in many a person. Often in newbies, but almost just as often in seasoned internet aldermen. Show yourself. Write about yourself. Flaunt your cunt, your cock and everything private. It's weird, but it seems to me that McLuhan's coining of modern man as the modern Narcissus has become truth in a very real way. Everyone can be a tv star, everyone can be a porn star, everyone can be an author, a poet, a laureate. It's all a crock of course: an audience of one is no fucking audience. It's just an ego-wank, fellating your own sorry self, luring yourself into believing that you make any difference at all.
Sorry.
You don't.
Monday, August 21, 2000, 02:32 p.m.

Paranoid delusional fuckwit, moi?
Hm. one thing that I did this summer was reading the above book (The Dragon Syndicates). True, it was sensationalist in some parts, wrong in other, and totally interesting in others. And here I went full force paranoid when entering chinese restaurants and stores. I know, I know, it may not be really bad. But two things about triads (or at least triad influenced crime) here in Sweden.
One is a story I wrote something about under Numero Tre. But the story was far more complicated. In short:
- a class mate of my brothers at the School of Journalism did her internship on a pretty big daily. Suddenly 2 young chinese men enter the lobby, barely talking anything but chinese. The seasoned journos say: Give it to the intern. So the intern rustles up a chinese translator and the story unfolds: several young chinese had been lured to come to Sweden and study for an international masters in economy. Behind the façade of two well-known economics professors hid an evil apparatus of lies. the professors acted not on the behalf of the university, but on the behalf of their own sorry asses. One student commited suicide when he realized that his family's savings had gone to nothing, plus he wouldn't make the final exam.
This is all and well, and was reported in the paper, the professors scrutinized and shit. It also became a TV program. What wasn't really mentioned was this: behind the plan stood a certain number of very very evasive chinese, some resturant owners and some very mysterious persons. The tangle that unraveled was that several swedish chinese (mostly resturants owners) was involved in some kind of bunk scheme. But that part of the story never saw print. The intern got several murder threats to her and her two children, and she recieved 24-hr police protection. The paper decided against the intern's will to drop the story. The murder threats were never mentioned in any media. But they were deemed very very real.
Another thing I just learned was that there is ONE sole owner to ALL Chinese resturants in Stockholm, renting them to other chinese for a hight price. I don't know what the deal is, but the owner seems to have wanted to hide the fact. Weird, huh?
I wonder if I'll have a sudden meeting with a Red Pole or 49 soon;) Well, this might be nothing, really, excepting the murder threats. I was mostly irritated with the swedish professors anyway. But you gotta admit that a good conspiracy is a good conspiracy:)
Monday, August 14, 2000, 12:37 p.m.

JMM was here, partying
Huff! Back in the saddle after a four week hiatus, known as summer vacation. I've been online a bit, but I tried to keep net time to a minimum. I didn't sleep very well tonight, no siree. And although I subscribe to but a few mailinglists, over 2k mail was a-waitin' for me. Fuck! Plus all the other things I need to get up to speed with, the things I need to write, the music I need to download, and the programs I just gotta have. It's a man's man's man's work, and I'm not sure I'm up to such a task.
If people still read this: I love you. Honest to god! I'll soon be back with a large-ish retelling of the past month, probably at my main site instead.
Monday, August 14, 2000, 11:51 a.m.

xnet, goddamn!
I had totally forgotten the URL to xnet, but all of a sudden I found an old pdf that I had downloaded from them. Possibly, you'll be fooled when first seeing the page. Don't fret and just browse around, and you'll see that those computer nerds of the old amiga school are well weird. Mandatory, by fuck. Two years ago, I downloaded their free space lego t-shirt and strongarmed a screenprinter friend into printing 3 t-shirts. Rare & pretty cool.
Also: this weekend was pretty slow. I did some extracurricular work, one which will give me some more dineros, one that will possibly give me oodles of free movie tickets. I passed on a party saturday night, which I regret, but still don't. I love parties, drinking, cavorting and generally be a swine with my peers. What I don't really like is that the precious weekend disappears in a hungover sunday. I'm like that. 32 and still pretty much no-holds-barred when it comes to drinking. Still, I'm better off than my fellas who some time during the night indulged in your average pukefest and then continued to drink till 8 AM and such early bird hours.
But there was a wee light during my massive masturbatory sessions, work, and trash TV watching, namely the buying and reading of feisty Alan Moore's League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, which was the funnest read I've had in quite a while. Extremely intelligent, tongue-in-cheek, referential and above all fun, this is a Victorian adventure tale which borrows heavily from Jules Verne, H.G. Wells, Rider Haggard, Bram Stoker, Emile Zola and yer average Victorian flagellation epic. It made me re-realize that Captain Nemo is one of my all time heroes: madman, scientist, exotic, dangerous, kind, sad. When I was six years old, I played soccer in some kind of kids league, but I spent most of the time fantasizing that I was part of Captain Nemo's crew, while pulling up weeds from the football field and causing many a goal in the process.
Explanation: at that time (1973 or '74), the TV version of Verne's 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, starring husky Omar Sharif as Captain Nemo was shown. We had a black & white set back then, but boy did I dream that I too was a dangerous, husky buckaneer, b/w or not.
Moore is too fucking good to be known only to a comics book audience: Watchmen was an epic that still sends a tingle up my spine, V for Vendetta convinced me that anarchy is the only solution, at least in part and From Hell drove me bugfuck crazy with paranoid delusions about freemasons. There's more of Moore, of course.
And, oh, I got a weird call on my brain atrophication unit friday morning: my good friend Malcolm called from a porch in East Timor, where he was sitting in his khaki outfit, sipping on a Gin-Tonic under a starry sky. Boy! Did I wish I was there! The call was bounced from East Timor to Oz to Paris to Sweden, which probably was the weirdest route I've ever had a call via. I guess it's no real paradise, and a lot of work for Malcolm, but he fits in so good in these situations: fluent in scandinavian, english, french and portuguese. Brought up in Sweden, Zimbabwe, Angola etc. Dated an american rock star. Works in Paris ordinarily. Truly one of my weirdest friends, lover of 3rd world countries.
What else? My vacation starts on friday. Four weeks of I don't know...
Monday, July 10, 2000, 11:26 a.m.

ohhla-la-la
I've got snippets, crumbs, of songs bouncing around my head. Today, I have
a) "It's Ken Kaniff on the, internet/Tryin to, lure your kids with him, into bed" (by homophobic "loverly coconuts" Eminem),
b) "Elvis was a hero to most/But he never meant shit to me you see/Straight up racist that sucker was/Simple and plain/Motherfuck him and John Wayne" (by Charles Ridenhour. I still love Elvis, even though I'm almost positive he'd HATE mp3. Chuck D hates industry and loves alternatives. Boss fucking man, that Chuck. I wish I could watch him on PBS, smakkking that white trash nitwit Lars Ulrich up but good),
c) "Blue Moon Baby, Yeyeyeyeeyeyeey" (by some obscure garage band on a Crypt compilation),
d) "Riot Girl, Riot Girl" (by Bikini Kill, I can't remember more of the lyrics, but those words kinda lingers),
e) "Are you on the inside or the outside of your pants?" (The Makers. I hear Makers in my head all the time.),
f) "Seis Seis Seis!" and "Molestanda Niños Muerte!" (Brujeria, Latin American death metal, far from straight edge boredom. From the album Matandos Güeros), g) "May they beat his bowels with a ten-pound hammer til his asshole whistles the Star-Spangled Banner" (Kool Keith, that rascal) and
h) far too many other to list...

By the way, kudos to Courtney Love for telling the people that the music biz is the ones raping artists, not MP3 & Napster/Rapster/Macster. What a pity that she "borrowed" most of the argument from Steve "Rapeman" Albini...
...but still...

By the way 2: new cerdo logo, yeah, written in Core's new font, Sarcastic Girl Scout Bitch. Get it! It's free!
Thursday, June 29, 2000, 02:41 p.m.

FUCK YOU MICROSOFT!
Latest news in the Microsoft bin: Microsoft acquires Bungie, creators of Matathon, Myth & the upcoming goodie Halo. That's one slap in the face, considering that Bungie's been macintosh oriented from day one. But the big slap came last week, when people in the know dropped the bomb: Halo will not be released for Mac, nor PC. It will be Microsoft XBox only. There: further evidence that god doesn't fucking exist! If there was a god, he'd of Sodom&Gomorrah'd Redmond years ago. I'm sorry if you have relatives there, but living there must be like living in a kindergarten version of Mordor. Tell them to move. Missiles will be launched when acquired.
Wednesday, June 28, 2000, 06:56 p.m.