Which is it?

So do I get four sticks with chicken on it? Or a stick with four chickens? Seriously, I'm imagining pulling up to the drive-thru window and them handing me a broom handle with four entire birds, and then gnawing on it two-handed while driving down Washington Rd. steering with my knees.

And, probably, with a window rolled down and a chicken-or-two sticking out. Getting cold fast.

You want cheese with those quackers?

Se went and had Mexican last night at Teresa’s on Boy Scot road—Nola loves it because there’s this pond out front full of ducks and geese, and the girl loves the birds. So we were eating, and all of a sudden the geese, probably 8 of them, parade up the driveway going who-knows-where. So, as we’re leaving, we see all the geese and by now a bunch of ducks, all waddling around in this big field. And, of course, it looks like a party, so I start singing “ain’t no party like a goose par-taaaaayyyy…” And I’m trying to figure out why it sounds so familiar…but then I figure out it’s because there ain’t no party like my Nana’s tea party.

Hey.

Ho.

LotB #27

It’s no secret that the Augusta Chronicle has a conservative bent, and that’s of course readily apparent on the editorial pages. You can find evidence elsewhere in the paper, but you usually have to dig. That wasn’t the case, though, on the Dec. 30 front page, amidst the “Faces of 2007” collage. Amongst the 38 photos represented, the republican and democratic presidential candidates were all there, but the placement was questionable. I’m sure it was just a coincidence that the republicans were at the top left, right under the banner, while the democrats were relegated to the very bottom right, below the fold. On a positive note, they actually did represent Ron Paul.

Along those lines, there’s a lot of buzz about how the media is not only ignoring Paul, but that they are actively suppressing information about him. Charges have been levied both against Fox News and ABC, for example, for ignoring polls in which he has done well, and he’s being left out of debates left and right. All of this despite his evident popularity and the fundraising records he’ setting. A quick check of the Chronicle archives shows that Paul has been mentioned in stories in the paper exactly twice in the last month: once in the above-mentioned “Faces of 2007” and once noting that he actually won a straw poll in Aiken county. And where was that presented in the paper? Way down at the bottom of the “Across the Area” section. By comparison, Rudy Giuliani (who Paul beat handily in the Iowa caucus), showed up in five stories. Time will tell, of course, whether all this will hurt, or possibly actually help Paul. He was strong in Iowa, and it seems like the more he’s ignored by the press, the more it emboldens the Paulistas.

Bizzarely, the Chronicle webforums were taken down for a good two days after what seemed to be a robot porn attack. You’d think I’d talk here about how that break may have actually given Barry Paschal some time to devote to his actual job, but no. Because there may be something more insidious afoot. Now, I’m not normally much of a conspiracy theorist, but pornbots attacking webforums, coupled with a Houston Chronicle story about the future of sex and relationships with robots makes you think about the inevitable. Soon, robots will make us their bitches. Stage one: distract the humans with robot sex. Next: rule the world! The only question is whether it will be a benevolent or oppressive robocracy to which we will succumb.

So the R. Kelly show scheduled for at the James Brown Arena last week actually went off as planned, without one of the late cancellations that has been plaguing the venue of late. That’s good news, since it shows that the coliseum authority actually has the ability to pull off headliner shows. I haven’t heard, though, whether or not any underage girls on sitting in the front row needed rain coats.

Note to everyone: Jason Barron is not to be referred to by the name “Jason Barron”, without Jason Barron’s permission. Jason Barron must only be referred to as ”Suzuki Man.” Alternatively, you may refer to Jason Barron as “The Jason.” Never, ever call Jason Barron “Jason Barron”, unless you want to incur the wrath of Jason Barron.

Jason Barron.

Sneak peak...

...at next week's column:

Suddenly, selling yourself is cool.

Sitting in the audience during last week’s great “12 Bands of Christmas” concert at the Imperial, emcee Jason Barron came onstage and introduced himself. But not as “Jason Barron” or even as his apparently-former persona, Freakboy. But rather as “Suzuki Man,” the sort of amped-up, vaguely Japanese car shiller he’s playing on Augusta Suzuki commercials. Not once did I hear Barron refer to himself by his given name. He did talk about the great Suzuki he drives, though. So I guess that’s all it takes for a person to give himself up—a shiny new car.

But it doesn’t stop there. The tire company, Dunlop, offers a free set of tires for folks who get their logo tattooed on themselves. That’s right—permanently disfigure yourself with a corporate logo and you get free tires! One set per tat, though—one guy has five. It’s pretty brilliant marketing, actually. The program itself drew nation-wide publicity (the Augusta Chronicle reported it a couple of weeks ago), and, in exchange for a set of tires that may last a few years, the company gets walking billboards for life.

But what Dunlop has done pails in comparison with the “Ironman” brand. You’ve seen it on Timex watches—the blocky “M” with the dot above it signifying triathlon’s greatest race. It’s the symbol that the Ironman Corporation owns, representing the 2.4-mile swim/112-mile-bike/26.2-mile run triathlons they put on all over the world. And it’s become a ritual for finishers of the race to get the brand tattooed, immortalizing their accomplishment. Off hand, I’d say there are more then a few people walking around Augusta sporting the mark. And there are thousands-upon-thousands of the tattoos on calves, ankles and shoulders all over the world. Genius. They’ve created a walking army of super-fit, unpaid advertisers.

So what does this all mean? Slowly, as a society, we’re becoming walking testaments to consumerism. What started not-so-innocently enough as brand envy (remember that Izod alligator all the cool kids were wearing?) has morphed into something more sinister. No longer is merely wearing a logo good enough. Now it’s about permanence and totally giving yourself over to the Man. Jason Barron as “Suzuki Man.”

“Coco Rubio brought to you by Budweiser” may be next.

Now I know that broadcast journalism isn’t about writing stuff down, but if you’re going to interview a media critic, don’t misquote him on the web version of your story. That’s just what WJBF did last week, after Fraendy Clervaud spoke with me on-camera at the post office downtown, about the rush of packages the posties deal with the week before Christmas.. I was a good sport and played along (although, I really should have asked “is this news? Really? Are you sure?). But the transcribed quotes on the website didn’t match the words that came out of my mouth. Online, they made me sound like an Augusta commissioner—“..I got them (packages) tracked (yee-doggies!)…,” I reportedly said. But the video shows me saying “I’ve”. Sure, it’s a little thing, but if you’re going to attribute an ungrammatically-correct statement to someone, make damn sure they actually said it that way before making them look like an idiot on your website.

“Next, put your junk in that box.”

Nice work Breaking News editor!, pt. 2

Also a slow news day right here in Augusta, apparently. Turns out, the week before Christmas, lots of people ship stuff at the post office. Also, sometimes in winter, it's cold! WJBF was there to capture it all.

I'm pretty sure I didn't say "I got them tracked..." Need to look at the video to confirm it, though.

Note to journalists: don't misquote the damn media critic!

Update: just saw the video. I don't speak like an Augusta commissioner. It was "I've got them tracked."

He forgot to enclose my tinfoil hat

I love getting feedback on my column. Sometimes it's complimentary, lots of times it's not. But regardless, it's nice just knowing people are reading. But the absolute best is when I get the nutty letters, like this one (presumable in response to this piece):

"Dear Jim,

I liked your critique of king-maker Austin Rhodes. The shameful klan he fronts for are truly immoral freeloaders who want to raise taxes again when Joe Bowles said we had a surplus! Beware for municipal projects as they raise takes to pay local "investors" their interest rates/profit. All govt.s (sic) keep 2 sets of books: one for the sheep; one on their portfolios on Wall St. You're doin' a great job. :)"

Cause everyone likes mexican food...

I'm standing around after the Avett Brothers show a couple of weeks ago, waiting for the band to come out (cause I'm a geek). And Amy and I are talking with our friend Holly about the birthday she's planning for our friend Alice.

It's a surprise party, and the idea was to make it raunchy (it's a girls'-only party). So I feel a little weird even listening to the conversation, but whatever. Like that ever stopped me.

Holly: so if you guys have any ideas for what food to serve...
Jim: (half under my breath) I've got some ideas...
Holly: what?
Jim: I've got some ideas, but i'm not sayin'
Holly: c'mon! what?
Amy: Don't do it...
Jim: Well...how about tuna?
Holly: (snicker)
Amy: (hits me)
Jim: or tacos. how about fish tacos?
Holly: (surprisingly, laughter)
Amy: (hits me some more)

Apparently, I'm pretty classy.

Best. Petsitter. Ever.

Stacey is awesome. She's the bee's knees all wrapped up cozy-like in the cat's pajamas. Next to Amy, she's the coolest mom I know. The only reason I have to dislike her is that she's funnier than I am (damn her). So when we go out of town, she occasionally pet sits for us. I think she does it to get access to the Wii and all the digital cable she can eat, but whatever. She can come over whenever she wants, cause she pet sits like no otha'.

I had a friend, Dena, who pet sat for another friend once. Or at least allegedly pet sat, because when the vacationing friend came home, her house reeked like a poop factory. Cat crap in the bath tub, literally a urine-soaked carpet, and probably emaciated dogs. They needed doggie IVs and a whole-house remodel to get back to some semblance of normal. But that's not how Stacey rolls. Stacey takes pride in her work, actually feeding the animals (oh...and there are animals...lots of them). And looking for them when they either seem to be, or actually are lost.

So anyway...here's her account of her last episode with Porkchop, Sydney, Stinky Pete, the birds and a couple of invisible fish. Beware...hilarity ahead.

And thanks, Stacey.

She's a little shy...

The last time the Avetts were in town ( a year ago), Nola got a chance to meet Scott after they sound checked. She was so shy then that she hid behind Amy the whole time we chatted. Something's clearly happened between now and then.

Scenes from Halloween

"Uggh...paparazzi."

Will work it for candy. Nola's friend, Jett. There should be a clown rule for Halloween. Like, all clowns must be eaten by zombies.

By zombie dogs, at least.

Scariest scene of the night: re-elect an Augusta commissioner! Ahhhhhh!

Which one of you is my daughter? Glen Ave. is a freaking madhouse.

No candy for mama!

Please, try this at home!

And not in your damn car.

I took this picture *after* this chick nearly drove into the median on Bobby Jones, doing 80. After correcting her swerve, she resumed applying her eye makeup. And she never noticed me taking her photo.

P-Funk's in town!

Apparently.

This guy was walking down the street last week, just past 7:30 in the rainy AM. It's hard to tell from the picture, but he really is wearing nothing but shoes, socks and pink panties. Oh...and a big smile on his face.

Just like daddy

So I'm heading downtown to drop Amy off at the Spirit office, and as we're heading down Broad, there's a cop car with his flashers on, and a couple of cops are hassling a homeless guy on the sidewalk. Nola sees it and asks what's going on.

"I dunno, baby."

"Like, maybe he had too many beers or something?"

"(laughing a little) Yeah, baby, maybe so."

"And they're gonna make him walk in a straight line?"

"(more laughing) Probably so, baby, probably so."

Overheard at "Arts in the Heart"

"This is my vacation money I'm spendin'. I'm squeezin' these nickles tighter than a jew."

"What do they have at the African booth?"

"Oh hell. I don't know...fried chicken and watermelon."

What are these people even doing at a cultural festival?

Land of the Blind #1

Another day, another letter to the editor at the Chronicle about Gay Pride Day at SRS. And scanning the online reader comments, you’d think the threat of the imposition of the homosexual “lifestyle” on America was the biggest issue facing God-fearers today. But really, if all sin is equal, why the hubbub? Why not attack sin that afflicts demonstrably many more people than does the scourge of gayness? Everyone loves shrimp, gay and straight alike. Yet there it is in Leviticus, right next to laying down with men, God says eating shellfish is a bad thing. So why isn’t the warrior Christian right yelping about the succulent, abominable fried shrimp special Rhinehart’s runs every Sunday (yes, Sunday!)? Maybe they’re too busy sitting down to a big basketful of sin themselves.

Channel 12 (I think. I wasn’t really paying attention) told us Wednesday that it was hot, and when it’s hot people like to go swimming. What I want to see is the story about the guy that beats the heat by tarring his roof or smelting copper.

Over on the Soul Bar message board (because even musicians and hard-core drinkers need a place to vent), Coco Rubio announced the “12 Bands of Christmas” lineup. A pretty innocuous posting, but it spurred a full 7 pages of responses challenging the fairness of the selection process. The discussion was definitely heated: “and to all you people who keep accusing me of whining, you're reading my posts with the wrong inflection..........you should be accusing me of bravery...........because i had the balls to speak my mind on this subject,” “Stak” said. But Rubio handled it in stride. Even though he may not have placated everyone, he certainly heard them out, made rational points about the selection process and left everyone concerned, if not happy at least feeling like they’d been heard and their points considered. If Rubio can handle a bunch of cantankerous musicians with such aplomb, think of the sanity he could bring to the Augusta Commission.

The Chronicle ran a wire story about Grey’s Anatomy’s Isaiah Washington crying racism over his firing. Cause, you know, we love a story about an uppity black man.

And on the editorial page the same day, the paper likened the immigration reform bill (had it passed) to the hurricane Katrina disaster, which is pretty cool in and of itself (cities destroyed, close to 2000 dead and thousands more people displaced equals, what, hard-working people get to keep the jobs no one else wants?). But it got better. “Well, U.S. senators narrowly voted - despite themselves - to avoid another disaster…,” they said. Despite themselves? As if the bumbling congresspeople somehow managed to do the “right” thing, despite themselves. Sheesh, Chronicle, they got the result you wanted but you slam them anyway? I guess Bush and the democrat-led congress going down in flames together confoozled them. So better to err on the side of outrage, I guess. They went on to poke the local boys, saying “In Georgia and South Carolina, three of our four senators essentially voted against the bill…”. How do you “essentially” vote nay? Maybe they voted in French. “Non!”

The Outsider: MIA?

Speaking of which, I sort of miss Ryan B.

If you only knew

From the "whine line" in Metro Spirit last week:

"Jim Christian is one hell of a media critic, except when it comes to commenting on the Metro Spirit. I guess he doesn’t want to bite the hand that feeds him… literally."

Which is funny for a couple of reasons, first since I've commented on the Spirit in three previous colums. But also because I actually get paid in food...literally.

Weirdness in One Act (or Maybe She Should Carry that Bible Between her Knees)

A man dressed for running in shorts and a t-shirt sits in front of a burrito shop at a wrought-iron table. He appears to be waiting for someone. A young couple sit, talking and drinking margaritas at another table, on the other side of the restaurant entrance. A large shabby-looking black woman carrying a bible approaches, enters stage right and approaches the runner:

Bible Toter: Hey baby! How you doin'?
Waiting Runner: OK.
(BT glancing down at WR's legs, which are propped on a chair)
BT: Oooh...them's some nice legs!
WR: Um...thanks.
BT: You shave your legs?
WR: Yeah...for cycling.
(BT still looking at WR's legs)
BT: Ooooh...I like 'em. That your real color?
(WR looks bewildered)
WR: Um...yes?
BT: Buy me some food, baby. (telling, not asking)
WR: I'm getting ready to go run. I don't have my wallet with me.
BT: I think I got knocked up.
(BT pauses, looks around, as if searching)
BT: I can't find the man who knocked me up.
WR: It wasn't me.
BT: Shit...I know it wasn't you, baby.
(BT walks to the next table)
BT: Buy me some food. (telling, not asking)
Young Woman: I don't have any money.
BT: You got a credit card. (telling, not asking)
Young Man: No.
BT: I got knocked up.
YM: Maybe you should read your bible.
BT: Fuck you, motherfucker.
(BT walks off down the street cursing unintelligibly, exits stage left)

Strong is the pull of the dark side

If the Athens Banner Herald is Morris Communication's “most liberal (paper) in the district” as they say, they must be running editorials suggesting aborted fetuses be used as pet food, because his home-town paper again slid further to the side of the defeatocrats. “The U.S. military surge may be working, but few are convinced of it. And can folks be coerced at the end of a rifle to live in peace together?,” they asked.

Only if you pull the trigger.

BID: no parking tickets and a sash?

A couple of provisions in the downtown Augusta Business Improvement District (BID) management plan, which will now be going before a commission vote, are for "Downtown Ambassadors Foot and Bicycle Patrol." And since these are included in the proposed budget, you'd assume that these would be paid positions. What a sweet gig!

Think about it...your job would be to walk (or ride a bike) around downtown, greeting folks, waving and generally looking, well, ambassadorial. A treaty needs to be discussed between the Ren Pub and Stillwater? You'd be the one to call. You know you'd get free drinks and, assuming you were single, lots of action. I mean, who doesn't want to get with an ambassador? Think how that would look on your resume.

I don't know why, but I'm imagining a handlebar moustache, top hat and a sash. A long black top coat, maybe striped jodhpurs.

And diplomatic immunity. Where do I sign up?

Sex parties, dope and smack: those lucky AIDS patients have all the fun!

Overheard at the Chinese restaurant, while waiting for my take-out order:

Asian food connoisseur #1, and older Caucasian gentleman: There's so many people that are HIV positive today.
Asian food connoisseur #2, a younger African-American gentleman: Mmm hmm.
1:So many people. You know that's the precursor for AIDS?
2:Yeah.
1:So many people that have what I'll call AIDS. They're formin' these clubs. Clubs of people with AIDS.
2:Mmm hmm.
1:Isn't that terrible?
2:Yeah...that is terrible!
1:The man givin' the lecture said they're formin' these clubs. Cause you know you don't get better from it?
2:Mmm hmmm.
1:So they don't care. They're havin' these crazy sex parties. They smoke the marijuana. They shoot up.
2:Yeah! they shoot up!
1:You know the word "tout"?
2:Yeah. I know it.
1:The magazines is toutin' these clubs. Make is seem so glamorous. So you wanna get it so you can join. Cause it's so much fun.
2:That's terrible.
1:Like people get a cold and have so much fun, that other people wanna catch a cold, too. So they can have fun.
2:That's terrible.
1: Is this my glass of water or your glass of water?
2: It's your glass of water.