I'M FAT. FUCK OFF: The Kansas City Tattoo Convention

Except for the sentiment being splayed across the front of the I'M FAT: FUCK OFF t-shirt, the KC tattoo convention was surprisingly conventional. Like motorcycle bars, punk clubs, and art openings, the room suffered from a multiplicity of sameness packaged as rebellious attitude. Rage against the man morphed into a rancid Diesel ad populated by overweight white males fawned over by legions of slim, cute, American Apparel chicks cloaked in subservience and thrift store accessories. The strong man and the tamed woman with a back story of too many taxes, stifled personal freedoms, and a deep, patriotic abiding love of guns. It could just have been easily been a Tea Party gathering

Most of the tattoo work on display suffered from the notion that if you call it art, then it must be art. When viewed repeatedly, endless derivations of Sailor Jack inspired ink begins to resemble this century's version of a Normal Rockwell poster.

Granted the medium seems inherently limited but Wafaa Bilal, an Iraqi-American artist, has recently been stretching the bounds with noted effort. For a recent piece, Mr. Bilal had the names of ten Iraqi cities tatooed in Arabic on his back. The 5,000 black dots used to inscribe these names represent the visible American casulities from the now, 7-year long conflict. To represent the more than 100,000 largely invisible Iraqis who have perished in this war, Billal had the outline of Iraqi tatooed, using 100,000 dots of ultraviolet, black-light ink.

The work benefits a not-for-profit designed to bring children displaced by the Iraqi war to the US for education.

enlightened self-interest

Also known as The Revised New World Order. Campaign Manager William Klein promises an aggressive, historic campaign that “puts people second” or even third.

Visual reviews of aural and 3-D entertainment: quixotic vs nomathmatics

Visual reviews of aural and 3-D entertainment
quixotic vs nomathmatics @ the foundation room, kcmo. attendance ~200

best riposte to a post

The Internet, the coffee shop sans coffee where free-speech minded, democratic-loving members of the left and right go hot-tubbing on Sunday morning, is nothing to sneer at. OK, decidedly untrue, but in the interest of plot, let us suspend disbelief for a moment.

Writing recently in the NY Times Carpetbagger blog, host Melena Ryzik reminds us that the dirty cauldron of Hollywood business is still, well, dirty. For this Republicans surely rejoice; the rest concern yourselves with the red carpet faux paus of Ryan Seacrest.

Background from Bagger2.0:

On Wednesday, Mark Boal, the screenwriter and a producer of the movie [The Hurtlocker], was named in a lawsuit brought by Master Sgt. Jeffrey S. Sarver, whose Explosive Ordnance Disposal unit Mr. Boal embedded with in Baghdad in 2004 as part of an assignment for Playboy magazine.

The lawsuit, filed in federal court in New Jersey, is based on six counts, including misappropriation of name and likeness, invasion of privacy, infliction of emotional distress, fraud and negligent misrepresentation. It seeks in excess of $75,000 for each count, along with costs, interest and legal fees. It charges that the movie amounted to “the exploitation of a real-life, honorable, courageous and long-serving member of our country’s armed forces, by greedy, multibillion-dollar ‘entertainment’ corporations.”

The best, and seemingly most appropriate response by many to this was:

Hey, Master Sgt. Jeffrey S. Sarver, here's something to add to your emotional distress: You're a simpering overgrown baby.

How's that for defamation. Sue me.--quin wag, claremont

Let's hope that federal court appointees who, unlike Hollywood stars, are anointed for life, were listening.

anti-craft goes mainstream

We were deep in the clutches of a week long absinthe binge when the Divine Hand of Brilliance touched us in an inappropriate place.

Thus begins the anticraft manifesto. It's a good place to start but seemingly ends in a vegan wrapped in bacon–which in all honestly isn't a bad start. But why stop there? Why not dip them in chocolate (72% cocoa!) afterwards.



One would have thought that bacon had reached its cultural, if not porcine, nadir with Bacon Explosion, a two pound, flame-grilled hunk of sausage wrapped in an equivalent weight of bacon. Pre-cooked weight 4 lbs; cooked weight 2.75 lbs: you can guess where the difference lies. The only thing less surprising than the viral nature of this singular flavor was the fact that it wasn't deep fried, which I hesitate to even mention because surely the next version will be just that to accompany your deep-fired turkey.

Once bacon, seemingly the only pork product that isn't white meat, moved into the pantheon of an Iron Chef secret ingredient we knew the trend was nearing an end. Bacon can be many things but never a secret ingredient.

Bacon shawl photo from monster crochet.