Ore 8.10
Sto facendo tardi al lavoro, e la vicina mi sta sul cazzo.
Non avrei dovuto indugiare così a lungo sul water.
La regola è questa: se non esce niente nell’arco di 5 minuti è bene rinunciare, passare ad altro, tipo vestire, denti, faccia, barba, cose così.
E’ una questione di buon senso, di sapersi organizzare.
Invece no, ogni volta mi faccio fregare, mi dico “dai, altri due minuti e mezzo”, altre quattro paginette di questo libro.
Ho proprio un pessimo rapporto col tempo.
I compiti in classe andavano sempre a puttane per questo motivo.
Matematica, tre problemi, partivo col primo, mi impantanavo.
Cosa fai in questi casi? Molli e passi al successivo, liberi la mente da schifezze.
Quando hai finito tutto torni al punto di partenza e ti concentri sui casi irrisolti.
Non io.
Io restavo impantanato dentro quella fottuta melma continuando a dimenarmi per trovare una soluzione, per capire dove sbagliavo.
Non potevo abbandonarlo, perchè avrei affrontato i successivi con la coscienza sporca, e con la coscienza sporca mi distraggo.
Così, allo scadere del tempo, quando andava bene, avevo risolto un problema su tre.
Quando andava male consegnavo melma.
Ed eccoci qua vent’anni dopo: non è cambiato niente.
Sto sul water e penso che sarebbe bene liberarmi la pancia prima di andare al lavoro.
Ma i minuti passano inesorabili, e io resto col libro in mano ad aspettare un treno che non arriva.
Uno si alzerebbe dal wc e direbbe beh fanculo, passiamo oltre.
Io invece resto lì, fino a quando il tempo s’avvicina allo scadere.
A quel punto, e solo a quel punto, mi risveglio dal torpore e decido di darmi una mosso, ma diventa una fottuta corsa contro il tempo perchè ho bruciato tutti i minuti a disposizione sperando in un miracolo.
Ma non era questo il punto, il punto era mia vicina.
Perchè è una che si è svegliata alle sei per poter cacare in tutta calma, una che alle sette ha già preparato il caffè e il latte e scaldato i cornetti, perchè è una che – ci scommetto – mangia kinder colazione più con l’allegra famiglia, col divano più grosso di giuliano ferrara, col parquet, con la TV al plasma accesa sul tg5, col maritino che esce tenendo la 24ore in mano.
Perchè sto facendo tardi al lavoro ma la trovo immancabilmente lì, sorridente, sul pianerottolo, piena di voglia di comunicare, di fare domande, di sapere come va.
Come vuoi che vada? sono le 8.10 e non ho neanche cacato perdio, ce l’hai o no un cuore? Vivi e lasciami morire, non hai idea di quanto mi costi sorriderti a una simile ora.

Ore 8.23
E’ indaffarata a tagliare panini in due, o a battere cassa, o riordinare gli scaffali della sua bottega.
La bottega è una copertura per l’attività di istigazione al gossip di quartiere, fondata su una fitta rete relazioni sociali che ha instaurato con tutti i vecchi della zona.
Spesso non risponde ai miei saluti, e in ogni caso non saluta mai per prima, a parte quando decido di non salutarla.
Allora mi dice “salve” che però non significa “salve”, significa “io ti saluto perchè non sono una cafona, come te”.
Tutte le volte mi scruta con odio attraverso la vetrina perchè non faccio mai spesa da lei, nonostante le abiti di fronte.
Il fatto è che farei pure la spesa lì, se non mi stesse così sul cazzo.

Ore 8.25
Metto in moto e esco dal centro storico percorrendo una lunga e ripida salita fatta di acciottolato, l’incubo di tutte le donne coi tacchi alti, di berlusconi, e dei maschi in mountain bike.
Lei è immancabilmente lì.
Cammina lenta, verso la cima, al lato della strada.
Arranca col passo stanco, con le sue caviglie gonfie, col cappotto nocciola pure d’estate, coi capelli grigi e scarruffati, gli occhiali pesanti come la sua stazza, le guance rosse e il respiro corto, inespressiva, ingobbita dal peso delle buste piene a entrambe le mani che la fanno pure barcollare.
Mai vista in compagnia di qualcuno, mai vista senza buste o su altre strade se non su quella dannata salita, forse abita sotto a un tombino insieme ai Turtles, forse è la loro tata.
La vedo rallentare, se possibile, ancora un po’, proprio mentre sto per raggiungerla. Poi si ferma, torce il busto verso me alla velocità di un bradipo in moviola e attacca a fissarmi, con quelle buste in mano.
Cazzo vuoi?
Raccolgo la sfida e punto i miei occhi sui suoi, tutti i santi giorni la stessa storia, facciamo scintille.
Rallento per prolungare il duello psicologico di qualche centesimo di secondo, non mi fai paura baldracca.
Nessuno dei due distoglie lo sguardo.
Sto andando in seconda e il motore perde colpi, sono costretto a sfrizionare e dare una botta d’acceleratore, riporto i giri su valori ottimali, riporto gli occhi sulla strada mentre la sto superando per evitare di finire contro qualche auto parcheggiata.
Aggiusto la traiettoria rapido, poi guardo nello specchietto.
Come pensavo.
La puttana mi ha seguito con lo sguardo ruotando con tutto il busto, come se fosse fatta d’un solo pezzo, ha ripreso a camminare continuando a guardarmi con quella faccia inespressiva, da strage all’ufficio postale, mi sta giudicando, lo sento, mi sta condannando per non so cosa.
La odio perchè riesce a farmi sentire in colpa.
E’ come se quegli occhi riuscissero a leggere le pagine che non scriverò mai.
La odio perchè tutti i duelli è sempre lei a vincerli.

Ore 8.30
Sembra uscito fuori da un film di Starsky e Hutch.
Capelli cotonati, baffi, sopracciglia moquettate, labbra più gonfie di berlusconi davanti una telecamera, al posto degli occhi due piccole biglie nere incastonate in una faccia tozza, asimmetrica, probabilmente disegnata da qualcuno che ancora non tocca coi piedi per terra quando è seduto sulla sua seggiola.
E non sto parlando di brunetta.
Non conosco il suo nome, nè il suo timbro di voce, le sue idee, le sue manie o le sue passioni, o l’odore del suo alito, so solo che lo odio, e che da una faccia così mi aspetto un alito puzzolente.
Guida una fiat-uno grigio topo con un mucchio di bozze sul muso, che lo fanno somigliare alla sua faccia.
Ho sempre pensato che le macchine somiglino ai loro padroni.
Qualcuno sostiene che la faccenda riguardi i cani, ma secondo me si estende a tutto ciò che circonda una persona, animato o inanimato che sia.
Soprattutto macchine e scarpe: sono oggetti che mutano geneticamente per induzione fino a clonare il padrone in ogni singola particella.
Starsky percorre la mia stessa strada tutte le fottute mattine, da ormai dieci anni, dato che lavora dalle mie parti.
E non so perchè, ma qualsiasi ora io decida di uscire di casa, finisco sempre per ritrovarmelo dietro le chiappe.
E’ di quelli che corrono come pazzi, di quelli che ti si appiccicano a 2 cm dal culo e non si schiodano, di quelli che vorresti avere il pulsantino per scaricare l’olio a terra e vedercelo pattinare sopra fino a schiantarsi come una trottola sul guard rail, di quelli che ti fanno venir voglia di scrivere un post sugli automobilisti.
Starsky mi bacia il culo tutte le mattine da 10 anni, e come tutte le cose routinarie, a un certo punto fai spallucce e te ne sbatti le palle.
Solo ieri, sbirciando nello specchietto, l’ho GUARDATO, e mi sono meravigliato nello scoprire che Starsky è fottutamente invecchiato.
I capelli sono brizzolati come i baffi, la faccia è solcata da varie ruge così come pure il collo.
Ho pensato che il tempo non si ferma, il tempo cancella tutto, anche me e te.

Ore 12.33
Pausa pranzo, faccio un salto dai miei per pranzare insieme e bestemmiare davanti al tg2.
ll tg2 è più indecente di Cicciolina.
Orario critico, tutti escono in cerca di cibo, rischi di perdere minuti preziosi per la strada, che sembra trasformarsi in un fiume pieno di salmoni che risalgono affannosamente la corrente.
Il trucco è parcheggiare in retromarcia, per poter partire in sgommata senza noiose manovre.
Il trucco è parcheggiare il più vicino possibile alla porta d’ingresso.
Il trucco è timbrare il badge il più vicino possibile alle ore 12.30, ossia le 12.30.01.
Tre piccoli accorgimenti per evitare la carica dei salmoni.
Tre regole d’oro.
Non sempre ce la fai.
A volte ti trattengono quei 30 secondi in più, altre non trovi posto davanti l’ingresso, altre ancora il cancello non si apre alla prima passata del badge.
Secondi preziosi che fanno la differenza tra un piatto di pasta e un piatto di pasta scotta.
Bionda, occhi azzurri come un mare tropicale, fiat panda.
Anche lei deve essere a conoscenza delle tre regole, perchè capitiamo sempre uno davanti l’altro.
A volte la frego di qualche secondo, a volte è lei a fregare me.
Facciamo un paio di km accodati, poi lei svolta a sinistra, io tiro dritto.
Anche questa storia va avanti da una decina d’anni, ma l’azzurro brillante di quegli occhi non è cambiato di una virgola.

Ore 12.45
Parcheggio sotto casa dei miei, di fronte al bar.
Fuori dal bar, sul marciapiede, ci sono delle sedie bianche di plastica.
E sulle sedie bianche siedono gli stessi culi con le stesse facce con gli stessi bicchieri in mano che dicono le stesse cose dai tempi delle medie.
Tempi in cui non c’erano i cellulari, internet, l’ipod, beautiful, maria de filippi.
Tempi in cui potevi gridare forza Italia ai mondiali.
Tempi che non sembrano mai esistiti, maledizione dov’ero? Cosa facevo? E come cazzo facevo senza iphone?
Beh loro erano già lì, col bicchierino in mano, a dire le stesse cose tra uno scatarro e l’altro.
Piccioni appollaiati tutto il giorno su un cavo della luce che scagazzano per terra.
Quindici anni di Ju-ve Ju-ve alèèè, di viva la fica, di forza Baresi, di forza Kakà.
Quindici anni di scatarri secchi stratificati sul marciapiede.

Ore 13.15
Eccola lì, puntuale, tutti i giorni.
Io sto tornando al lavoro e lei è lì, sul piazzale.
Apre il portellone della macchina, estrae un grosso sacco e lo poggia a terra.
In quel preciso istante viene circondata da una gang di gatti che non hanno dubbi su cosa sia contenuto in quel sacco.
E’ sempre girata di culo e non riesco mai a guardare che faccia ha, nè riesco a darle un’età.
Al giorno d’oggi vestiamo tutti da giovini, jeans a vita bassa, cinture con le perline e maglietta di Hello Kitty, insomma l’abito non fa il monaco, sorpattutto nel terzo millennio.

Ore 13.20
Tutte le volte che passo di lì, lo vedo sbucare fuori dalle frasche lungo la strada, non manca un appuntamento.
Sotto c’è un fiume e lui indossa stivali verdi da pescatore.
Capelli brizzolati, occhiali, cappellino, faccia rugosa, sguardo triste di un triste.
Si muove lento verso la sua panda bianca lasciata a cavallo tra marciapiede e strada.
Non ha mai un pesce in mano, forse per quello ha lo sguardo triste.

Ore 19.40
Esco di casa per prendere la macchina, ed è nel solito posto: dove il muro in pietra fa angolo, all’ombra di un contenitore per la raccolta di vestiti usati.
Non è batman.
E’ accovacciata e distribuisce crocchette ai gatti del quartiere.
Batman non lo farebbe mai.
I gatti la conoscono, si fidano, le stanno addosso, si strusciano, fanno le fusa, miagolano.
Con me fuggono.
Ci parla, coi gatti.
In realtà dice loro “micio micio micio” alternato a baci dati all’aria.
C’è anche una gatta che salvai quando era piccola come una pallina da tennis, era la quarta di una cucciolata.
La cucciolata è stata sterminata con roba avvelenata da qualche figlio di puttana, lei è l’unica sopravvissuta.
La signora sa tutto di tutti, anche di me, e me l’ha fatto capire.
Non che ci sia granchè da sapere sul mio conto, ma a lei non sfugge niente.
Devo andarle a genio, dato che attacca continuamente bottone, facendomi fare tardi per la ghigliottina di paolo conti a casa dei miei.
Ad ogni modo, quando mi avvicino ai gatti in sua presenza, non scappano.
L’ultima volta mi disse:
- vedi quella macchina lì?
- sì
- è di un ragazzo univeristario, l’altra notte era con gli sportelli e il bagagliaio aperti, sono stati i tossici, hanno rubato il pc portatile.
- a-ha (guardo l’orologio, la ghigliottina è fottuta)
- eeh, ormai la criminalità è arrivata anche qua, non si può stare più tranquilli

L’ho incontrata di nuovo stasera, mi fa:
- buonasera, come va?
- bene bene, vedo che sta apparecchiando per i mici eh?
- eeh sì, poveri gatti, ormai questo è diventato un posto pericoloso
- è successo qualcosa?
- la vedi quella macchina lì?
- … s… sì…. (oh-oh)
- è di un ragazzo universitario, l’altra notte era con gli sportelli e il bagagliaio aperti…
- (oh merda)

Ore 21.15
Sto rientrando in tana.
Mi infilo nella strada acciottolata e la percorro in discesa andando di freno e sterzo per evitare le buche più grosse.
Lui  è sulla destra.
Una miniatura di uomo dall’età incalcolabile, qualsiasi cifra ti venga in mente, è poco.
Te ne rendi conto dalle rughe in faccia: oltre una certa età iniziano a sparire, forse muoiono di vecchiaia.
Cappello, camicia, giacca.
Cammina ingobbito col passo zoppicante aiutandosi con un bastone.
Non so perchè, ma ho deciso che è il mio eroe.
Ha un passo così lento che la signora del mattino, a confronto, sembra la moglie di Speedy Gonzales.
Non credo che Speedy Gonzales avesse una moglie.
M’è stato sempre sul cazzo, Speedy Gonzales, mentre ho sempre adorato Mr.Magoo.
Mr.Magoo cammina così lento che ti domandi se riuscirà mai a raggiungere casa, un passo così lento ti farebbe far tardi pure all’appuntamento con la tua morte.
E invece, la sera successiva, lo trovi di nuovo lì, col suo bastone, diretto verso casa.
O forse ha impiegato 24 fottute ore per percorre 10 cm.

Ore 21.30
Faccia stanca, vuota, annoiata, frustrata, insoddisfatta.
E’ uno che fa le stesse identiche cose tutti i santi giorni, la vita gli scorre via liscia e silenziosa.
Stesse strade percorse, stessi programmi televisivi, stessa musica, stessi film porno, stessa gente incontrata negli stessi posti alle stesse ore.
E’ la faccia di cazzo che trovo tutte le volte dentro il fottuto specchio.

Es schneit in Greifswald!
Zeit, sich herzerwärmende Videos anzuschauen und ein bisschen in Kindheitserinnerungen zu schwelgen…

Våran hjälte till vardag och fest. Vår egen gitarrlegend med flinka fingrar. Personen som kan säga 120000 ord per minut. Vår spikare och hamrare och fejare. Multikapaciteten personifierad.  Vår egen Speedy Fonzales har startat en pappablogg om livet som tvillingfarsa där högst relevanta ämnen såsom snor, storhandling, tvätt, kaffe, FC Barcelona och annat, avhandlas:

En tvillingpappas funderingar

“Det ena med det åttonde”

/ Julia

Nick: I’ve actually heard of them!

she’s big.

yeah I can see why it’s popular.

easy melodies, danceable rhythms.

but the old story, not enough variety.

and the first number sort of seems to promise variety.

{track 5 – Kiss With A Fist}

oh, that’s different.

she sounds like someone.

who is it?

Speedy Gonzales?

certainly not.

it’s good.

but not great.

you tire of it quite rapidly.

yeah it’s very full on.

too full on.

and I keep expecting it to go somewhere else.

but it doesn’t.

I guess the producer isn’t the most subtle.

three producers.

really? all with the same attitude?

maybe she’s just a natural shouter?

she sounds like someone very well known.

who is it!?

“I want my music to sound like throwing yourself out of a tree, or off a tall building, or as if you’re being sucked down into the ocean and you can’t breathe.”

well…{shrugs}

when she sings rather then yells, she has quite a good voice.

you know who I heard this morning?

Boy George! what’s he up to these days?

you don’t want to know.

On Flo’s website you can find some tantalising recipe ideas with Knorr Ready-to-Serve sauces. Which is great.

http://www.myspace.com/florenceandthemachine

I’ve watched a lot of people playing Left 4 Dead and Left 4 Dead 2 and they seem to make a lot of damn mistakes, n00b to advanced gamers alike. Some of the things I’ve seen would piss me off if I was playing with them.

1. Running and shooting at a Jockey on one of the survivors back just to run up on him to melee him. I’ve seen this countless times, instead of shooting and missing because you can’t aim and you know you’re just going to go up to it and melee, just go up to it and melee the jockey instead of wasting bullets.
2. Shooting at an already dead infected and special infected. You saw the infected or special infected go down for the count, why are you still shooting at it? Its not going to get back up. Waste those wonderful bullets on that hunter that has incapped your friend that’s mauling him/her right next to you.
3. Splitting up because you want to find the Witch or chase down a Charger. I’ve seen this happen numerous times and it didn’t turn out well most of the time. They kill the Charger or Witch then try and high-tail it back with the other survivors just to get snatched by a Smoker or mauled by a Hunter. Now the other survivors have to come all the way back and save you. What happens then is the possibility of it being another horde because you the idiot who wanted to be Rambo was in that area for too long.
4. Setting traps because you think its fun to make other gamers miserable. I just hope this never happens to me but I’ve seen other players open and close the safe door rapidly so the other survivors cannot get inside after that one idiotic player wanted to set off a car alarm and provoke a horde. I’ve seen people in versus push a garbage dumpster down the sewer opening so the survivors cannot get up the ladder. I’ve also seen in versus where gamers would push a generator in front of the elevator in the finale of No Mercy so when the elevator opens up and the survivors that want to evacuate the premises, they can’t. It might be fun and hilarious the first few times but leave that retarded bullshit with your friends that play the game, not random players that just want to play.
5. Trying to help a survivor up knowing there’s a horde beating you half to death. People defeat the reason of helping someone up. I know you’re trying to help and all but just let me die or kill the horde, the smoker, the hunter, and the tank off first. You could have a full bar of health but you want to help me up while there’s a tank hot on your ass. Its call paying attention to the health bar if that person you’re trying to help up is that close to death when they’re incapped and a horde comes; kill the horde and see the outcome.
6. Running ahead and leaving the other survivors because you’re impatient. This is not NASCAR, yes the finish line is the safe house but the point in the game is to survive. No I don’t mean stick around and wait for an ass kicking but if there’s someone trying to fight a horde off which in fact happens all of the time, don’t just say “screw this” and Speedy Gonzales your ass to the safe house. The other players will hate you forever. If you’re illiterate or dyslexic and you can’t understand “stick together to survive” then sucks for you.
7. Looking for short cuts and glitches in the game just to end up dying anyway. First of all, looking for an easy way out in a game just means you’re an idiot and lazy. Look for easier ways to get out shit in real life, stop taking the fun out of the game because you think its cool to waste your time leaving the survivors because you found a glitch and or a short cut only you got down to a Science.
8. Camping because you think its the right thing to do in this type of situation. People can still camp in Left 4 Dead 2 believe it or not. Others are killing zombies trying to live and here one person is off in the corner some where camping or hiding. You know he or she is not shooting anything because you can see the outline. He or she is  just waiting for it to be over. Then without warning [it never is one] a hunter incapacitates he or she and he can’t get immediate help because the others are still killing a horde or dying themselves. So now he or she is pissed and rage quits. Camping is only good in a group not solo. Even then camping isn’t good, camping is just waiting for a Chuck Norris type ass kicking to come your way.
9. Using a health pack then taking another leaving other survivors vulnerable. There is one for everyone, no need to get greedy because 9 times out of 10 you’re going to wish you gave that guy who was on his last leg that health pack. Especially when the odds are against you; meaning two of the other survivors was killed and its only you and the guy you neglected to help. Remember, sharing is caring!
10. Getting on the mic screaming at another player that they’re “n00bs“. Come on! If you want to play with gamers you like, find some friends or make some. People will cringe and get this feeling of wanting to falcon punch your ass when they see your gamertag or your steam name when you’re in a lobby waiting to play after a while. No one likes a dumb ass with a mic. I’m pretty sure those that’s always bitching about others being n00bs were once n00bs themselves.
11. Seeing a tank then running all the way back to the beginning of the map. I don’t how many times I’ve seen this happen. They see a tank, then run all the way back to the safe house or a room with a door that they just so happened to find that a tank cannot open. What is the point? Just shoot the got damned thing! Oh if you haven’t noticed, throwing a Molotov Cocktail just pisses it off more and some has said that the tank moves faster once its on fire. I don’t know how much of that is true but its better than running away or into something worse.
12. Replenishing ammo, shooting zombies then coming all the way back to get more ammo. I get sick of that, people be at times so far away from that pile of ammo the next pile would be right next to them but they go all the way back to get more ammo. If you aim right your bullets would be of good use and you wouldn’t have to worry about wasting them to the point you have low self-esteem about it.
13. Healing someone during a crescendo. Who the hell waits til then to want to heal someone? Those few precious seconds between crescendo’s is when you’re supposed to do that. Not when there is a car being launched at your torso or when a hunter is playing finger paint with your insides.

At the time of 8tracks, Julio was a relatively unknown singer performing in Spanish, Diverio was lighting up the local scene with his warm voice, Di Capri filled the house, and Tozzi was being hummed. LEBANESE went out to places like “the Troubadour”, cracked open a bottle of “white Horse” and spent an entire evening being serenaded by artists that came from all around the Mediterranean. No one ever thought of banning any performance under any false pretenses; because then religious figures had hardly any clout. People just went out to have fun and enjoy the diversity Lebanon had to offer. Be it Aznavour, Feyrouz, Um Koulthoum, Sardou, Dalida, Farid Al Atrach… etc; it was all part f the cultural hub we once were. Sad to say that this is no longer the case, and even sadder; no one seems to give a damn. Before I leave you to put on more nail into Lebanon’s coffin, a selection of Italian artist that my father enjoyed, and later I in the hardest of time (and they were in some aspects better than the ones we are living today) in Broumana.

And still you anxiously await the birth of a new government. Pray to whatever God you believe in that by 2013 Lebanon will not have become LEBANONSTAN.  Long gone are the days when Feyrouz use to sing B7eback ya Loubnan.

There’s a reason people are getting excited for the new Mickey game.  Mickey Mouse, by and large, has a heritage of pretty good videogames, and Disney has respected the videogame medium (and their characters) enough to roll up their sleeves and make the games themselves.  When was the last time you saw Mickey Mouse in a cartoon or film?  Never, right?  But you *have* seen him in Kingdom Hearts.

Things have changed, Warner Bros.  Videogames don’t play second fiddle anymore, and you failed to see it coming.  You didn’t respect the medium or your characters enough to treat a videogame as anything more than just another piece of merchandise.  And so now we have abominations like Bugs Bunny: Rabbit Rampage and Looney Tunes B-Ball to contend with.

Look at those four on the bottom of the screen. Just happy to be there!

Being the great house of animation that you once were, you *could* have sat down with this new-fangled ‘computer game’ thang and tried to work it all out.  Of all the studios, you could have created the most beautifully fluid animated works of the 2-D gaming era.  Instead you commissioned hacks like Sunsoft and Acclaim to butcher your legacy in no time at all.

Take Looney Tunes B-Ball for instance.  This could have been the Mario Kart of basketball games.  What we have instead is a dull, drab, street b-ball game with Looney Tunes characters pasted in.  I could have just glued their heads to paddle-pop sticks and it would have been more enjoyable.  Nay, this could have been better than Mario Kart and NBA Jam.  We expect madness from Bugs and Daffy, and we sure as hell expect more than stiff pie-throwing animations.  Slapstick humour is more contextual in a Looney Tunes game than it will ever be in Mario or the NBA – neither of them are funny in their own right – they were merely placed in humorous situations.  Conversely, here I find America’s funniest cartoon characters placed in a decidedly unfunny situation.  You have to collect gems to purchase powerups during play of the ball fer cryin’ out loud (and that’s before you can even use them)!  Why not just cut out the middle men and have them collect the powerups direct instead?  And why not eliminate the need for another button press, and have the powerups kick in immediately upon pickup?  It makes sense in a stupid NBA Jam kinda way.

Ehhh...no. Not today.

Do you think maybe you could have spared a comedy writer and an animator or two to help out with the game?  What’s that, they were all busy working on Space Jam?  Wait a minute, SPACE JAM? Isn’t that that movie where the LOONEY TUNES play BASKETBALL in OUTER SPACE?! What did you do, tell the guys at Scultpured Software that you were *maybe* thinking of doing a Looney Tunes cartoon where they play basketball?  You didn’t even tell them about Space Jam – did you? Did you ever consider that maybe you could have developed the game in tandem with the film, take a little more time to make the game actually good; add in a few more characters like, I don’t know, Foghorn Leghorn, Tweetie Pie, Speedy Gonzales, Pepe Le Pew, Road Runner, Porky Pig, MICHAEL JORDAN AND BILL MURRAY?  Was da scwipt to Space Jam weally so sacwed dat you couldn’t share da wuv wid da iddy-biddy game makers?

The same team ended up doing the Space Jam movie tie-in anyway!  Instead of rushing two mediocre games out the door, you could have commissioned the New Greatest Basketball Game on the Planet.  But you didn’t.  You were happy to pump out just another piece of merchandise.  And here we are, years later, not giving a damn about your characters or anything they appear in.

There’s a reason the world waits with bated breath for Epic Mickey and not Epic Bugs:

Relevance.

You missed the boat, Bugs.  You could have been ahead of the curve, but you got sloppy.  Now all we have to remember you by is a collection of crappy videogames.

"That's all Folks!"

The Best of the High Energy
1998
Sony Music

01 Evelyn Thomas – High energy.
02 Tapss – My forbidden love.
03 Lime – Guilty.
04 Rofo – You’ve got to move it on.
05 Samantha Gilles – Let me feel it.
06 Patrick Crowley – Menergy.
07 Paul Parker – Right on the target.
08 Lime – Come & get your love.
09 Trans X – Living on video.
10 Sylvester – Don`t stop.
11 Lejete – Le cage aux follies.
12 Marsha Raven – Catch me.
13 Paul Parker – Shot in the night.
14 Cafe Society – Somebody to love.
15 Patrick Crowley – Megatron man.

Hi-NRG (Estilización de High energy – “alta energía”- en inglés, forzando la pronunciación de la R en ese idioma) es un tipo de música electrónica de tempo elevado, usualmente acompañada de instrumentación electrónica, así como también se refiere a un género más específico derivado de la música dance electrónica que alcanzó su máxima popularidad durante el segundo lustro de la década de 1980. El término también se llegó a aplicar a la música Eurobeat que se comercializaba en los Estados Unidos.

Bueno con esta introducción hago referencia a la musica que escuchabamos seguido cuando nos ibamos a divertirnos a los bailes de luz y sonido (o sea, la discoteca rodante, acá en mi ciudad eran muy famosas USA Tio Sam, Moby Dick, Androide Discotheque, Patrick Miller, La Morsa Strauss, y otras más) que se organizaban en la escuela (especialmente en fin de curso), el parque de la colonia (por alguna conmemoracion religiosa o por siemple gusto de hacerlo y ganarse un dinero), en la discoteca (uuuyy!!!! esos tiempos en Mérida eran conocidisimas Pokonos, Black & White, Panache, Speedy Gonzales, Garesta entre otras… claro que ya llovio y recioooo!). Los temas bailables de esos días eran de los más variados y era cuando la chamacada estaba al pendiente de cuando salia el disco de Hit Collections del 83, 84 … etc., en los cuales venian los más selecto de la música disco y en especial de estos temas: Tema de Rofo (Rofo), Helpless (The Flirts), Baila bolero (Fun Fun), High Energy (Evelyn Thomas) , Your Love (Lime), Living on video (Trans X) y muchos más que ahora no se me acuerdan (como ya dije, ese aleman Alzheimer no deja en paz a uno… ni a las neuronas).

Esa musica continua sonando hoy día, y conozco amigos (me incluyo en ese grupo) que tienen DVD’s completos de esa musica que realmente son una joya.

Les dejo este acoplado de mi colección personal, y seguire desentarrando a ver que más encuentro y que sepa que les puede gustar. Aclaro que tampoco es la portada original, pero si alguien la tiene favor de decirme y la posteamos por acá.

Un abrazo.

Fuente:

http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hi-NRG

Aqui les dejo unos videos que espero sean de su gusto.

Evelyn Thomas – High Energy (uuuyyy!!!… este tema era la entrada del programa Video Exitos con Gloria Calzada)

Samantha Gilles – Let me feel it (Aqui el arreglo es un poco más actual, pero la intención cuenta)

Trans X – Living on Video (Vease la moda !!!)

I’ve done it!!!

the glass cell (MAgneto?!?!?!)

I have bested my arch enemy: Speedy Gonzales.

He is now trapped inside the humane trap we got specially for him (her???) trying to eat it’s way out of it.

But I still feel triumphant!! It actually made my day to capture the damn rodent! heheheheh

My Arch Enemy has beem taunting me for a week now, running around the traps I have laid down for him/her am laughing at me as I ran after it with broom in hand. But no more!!

Today I have decided to change my tactics from passive to active.

My first measure as to set up sentries at the kitchen door.

I figured that TB's bionicles would be scarry enough for a lil mouse.

I soon found out that I couldn;t be mor wrong as Speedy attacked one of them on it's way out of the kitchen!

Speedy Gonzales had a plan: It was going to zoom past the living room, into the fireplace and escape through the chiminea, probably to return later with reinforcements (I still haven’t had the chance to interrogate it…)

Unfortunatelly (for Speedy) our chiminea is blocked so the rodent fell back on it’s ass. By then I was alert and had already sieged the chiminea.

I'd set up the trap and come up with a strategy.

The idea was to leave only one way out (where the humane mouse trap would be already in place and then using a broom I would scare it straight to where I wanted…

To my surprise IT WORKED perfectly!!!

The culprit has now been captured and it is awaiting it's sentence inside it's glass prison to be pronounced in the morning when the boy will be awake. The sentece will probably be death if the lil bugger doesn;t know how to swim... TB wants to throw it in the Wandle River

THAT was a week full of ups and downs.

RunDown: We made an offer for the Earlsfield building to move the Metanoia Cafe into… and someone upped and toppled our offer… Then I get a parking tkt for parking in front of our house, well 2 parking tickets, one in the evening and other in the morning (if I see the “£$£%^^ traffic warden that did the deed I’ll run over him/her…) Well pissed about the situation I go to Merton Council where something impossible happened… they not only admitted they where in the wrong (1 for not sending my permit and 1 for the parking tickets), but also cancelled all my Parking tkts (I had 4), printed a brand new permit for me on spot AND apologised for their mistake!!

I was like… WOOT?!?!?!?!

Then a new photography job presents itself from a place I would never imagine… well not without me offering anyway…

Then there is a possibility of taking over the website production of a website that will be seling Brazilian Exports in the UK (Specialized in clothing, bikinis, etc)… Still some negotiations to go ahead… but lets see how it goes… I’ll keep you posted.

Then I get to work today… and it all went down hill! Well… let’s put it like that… WORST Sunday… EVER!

The evening got a bit better… TB and Vic arrived from her grandad’s party and I played wit the boy a bit before he went to bed… I missed the chickey monkey today…

I even got some quality time with the missus before she dropped asleep.

This small victory against Speedy Gonzales REALLY came to lift my spirits a lot!

Only problem is that it spoiled my plans to go and buy a bbgun!

Oh well.. never mind!!!

zya!

Speedy Gonzales, what a great character to work with, and I have to admit this post is about a project our team created and produced, however it is a great case study for building a major multi-platform program.  We were thrilled when Warner Bros. Consumer Products approached us to strategically develop a campaign to re-introduce Speedy Gonzales to a youth demo as part of their innovations group initiatives. 

First, full immersion into Speedy (“the fastest mouse in all Mexico”) and his career, which spanned nearly 20 years.  Did you know he won an Academy Award, and starred in over 40 cartoons, matched up with classic list of characters, including: Slowpoke Rodriguez (“The slowest mouse in all Mexico”), a buzzard named “El Vulturo the Bandito Bird,” Sylvester (“Greengo Poosygato”), Coyote & Roadrunner, and Daffy Duck (which was considered an odd pairing).

Then, after reviewing his character traits, including: supersonic speed, a ridiculously thick stereotypical Mexican accent, usually found wearing a yellow sombrero, virtuous and caring, a mouse superhero of sorts who uses his speed to help others, clean living (no drink, no smoke) and only vice to be weakness for pretty girls (the poosygatos…lol), we all decided he was a great fit within the popular subculture of skateboarding…yep…he would re-emerge into the skate community.

If you’ve noticed, in other posts, I always include an icon for the medium of discussion, and in this case, being a multi-platform programming strategy, included: film, digital, mobile, live events/tour, music, photography and merchandise…so here you go:

[KABLAM]…So this is how we put it all together.  We went out and struck deals with three professional skateboarders, Danny Gonzalez (duh), Patrick Melcher (deserves his own show) and the legendary Steve Caballero, and would send them on a cross-country tour to skateboard parks from Orlando to Orange County. At each event, they would judge young skaters who would win a spot on the Andale Posse team.  Our partner for this project was Grand Central Marketing (Matthew and team are amazing with events), who handled all the event production logistics while we focused on the content…and a LOT of it.

Prior to the tour, we pulled together some members of the Black Eyed Peas and the lead singer from Yellow Card to write and record a Speedy theme song entitled ‘Gotta Get It Now.  The collaboration turned out to be something special, and the song was made available for free downloads, as well as distributed during the tour.  This truly captured the essence of who Speedy Gonazales is, and helped establish him into this subculture.

The main “point of content” was a feature length DVD following the tour and our pros, plus 22 other pros who made guest appearances along the way.  To further describe, here’s the write up from Amazon, where the DVD is still selling well, and spent many weeks atop the best selling skateboard DVD’s:

Andale is packed with some solid street skating from Danny Gonzalez, Patrick Melcher and skateboarding legend Steve Caballero. Shot in letterbox HD during the Andale Posse Tour, Gonzalez, Melcher and “Cab” host some pretty gnarly shred sessions to find new “posse members” while skating their way across the southern U.S. Kicking off in Orlando, FL and ending in Orange County, CA, this feature length skateboarding lifestyle film is filled with hilarious moments on the road and some next generation ripping from Andale Posse members.

Lee Levin did an amazing job directing this film, in fact, we’ve been working on stuff together ever since.  I’ve also gotta give a shout out to JonJozuf Hadley, the producer (we’ve worked together for many years) and Oscar Lobo, our uber-talented DP.

You’d think producing a feature-length DVD was enough for the crew during the six week tour across the country, but in addition to the DVD, the guys captured content and interacted with the skateboard community online with a…shall we say…wealth of content along the way.  This included a full digitial distribution plan, including a website (of course), daily blog from each of the pros, plus video and photos uploaded three times a week to the andale posse site, on mobile, and syndicated to a target network of social media sites, including: Friendster, Broadcaster, Xanga, Ignition Skate, Yahoo Video, and You Tube, which has amassed over 1.3 million views to date.  All the web design, blogs, viral video player, custom social media sites, etc… were designed by my go to guys at Origami Studio (whom I’ve had the pleasure of working with for over five years).

Then, and we’re almost done, there was the merchandise.  Of course, with this being a Warner Bros. Consumer Products initiative, the merchandise was substantial, and had to be cool, so the team over there partnered with Caballero and Junk Food to create a line of Andale merchandise to be sold in skateboard stores around the country, as well as on tour.  The board was a limited edition, and sold out fast.

So that’s pretty much the skinny on the project.  An undertaking for sure, but such a great time, and amazing results.  I think anyone would agree this is a good definitioin of a multi-platform program, and it’s what we like to do at multibrain…it’s how we think…it’s how we roll.  You can learn more about us at www.multibrain.net, or better yet, reach out to us and we’ll schedule a BRAIN[STORM]…it’s free.

In conclusion, I’d like to thank everyone at Warner Bros. for the opportunity and I can only wish all celebrities in Hollywood were as cool to work with as Speedy Gonazles.  I leave you with a few pictures captured by…once again…and I’m going to say it…uber-talented Oscar Lobo for editorial distribution…good stuff…and…Andale Andale Arriba Arriba…long live Speedy.

It was precisely 5:54 AM when Karina Pinzon’s mother gently shook her left shoulder to wake her up.

“Hurry, Honey. We leave the house in an hour.”

Karina didn’t bother to “hurry” much, however, because she was very much aware that her family never left the house on time. Some would say that it is a part of their charm.

After about 5 minutes of lying in bed, arguing with herself about whether or not to get up, Karina finally made the responsible decision to prepare herself for the family’s trip to Arlington, Texas. It wouldn’t be polite of her to make them wait, especially since another family would be traveling with them. They didn’t deserve to be the victims of her tardiness.

Starving, she ran down the stairs to prepare herself a protein packed breakfast by mixing a 1/2 cup of rolled oats with Fage 2% yogurt sweetened with strawberry syrup. To add more energy to her meal, she sliced up a small ripe banana into her bowl with some almond butter and a small glass of orange juice.

Karina’s taste buds couldn‘t believe how such a simple breakfast could possibly please them to this extent. They felt as though they were swimming in a deep ocean of flavor and delight. They made their way of thanking Karina for supplying them with such flavors by giving her just the right amount of energy to rush into a makeup frenzy. In Karina’s world, 15 minutes was hardly enough time to get ready. She hasn’t always been known for her superb procrastination skills for nothing.

Her family, of course, was not out the door at the 7 AM time they had planned, but there were really no worries since the other family had yet to show in front of their home either. However, the second the Philips family appeared, the Pinzon family joined them on the 3 hour long road to Arlington.

Karina did nothing of interest in the backseat of her parent’s white minivan but listen to music and read Stephen King’s “Carrie” from cover to cover. In a sense, she loved road trips. They gave her the chance to contemplate about her life and spend time admiring nature through the car’s window. Due to the fact that being in a car resulted in being sedentary for about 3 hours though, she almost didn’t consume the red, juicy apple that her mother had packed just for her. She thanked God she did.

Karina was feeling a bit unsettled about food that day. Every time she thought about what she was going to eat for dinner, a horrible anxiety began to build inside of her.

“Is it even possible to consume a sensible meal at an amusement park?” She pondered.

“No, you dumb ass. You shouldn’t have come along for this trip. The food you’ll be eating tonight will just make you fatter,” Something inside her head responded. Karina shook off the ridiculous answer and continued reading about the poor girl who finally got her revenge after being drenched in pig’s blood at her prom queen coronation.

A thick feeling of relief washed over her when she finally arrived at the Marriott Suites her family would be staying at with the Philips family. The Philips had always been close family friends of the Pinzon’s ever since the year 2000, when the Pinzons first moved to Texas. Upon meeting, Ana Philips and Karina Pinzon clicked instantly and had stayed friends ever since their Barbie and Ken days. After dropping their suitcases off in the rooms, the two families grabbed a quick bite to eat at Applebee’s.

Karina ordered the Cajun Lime Tilapia dish and dug into it before remembering to take a photograph of it, which explains its rather attacked appearance. She was so hungry that she didn’t even let the broccoli’s buttery coating phase her.
The second Karina and Ana finished lunch, a flutter of butterflies took over their stomach.

“My friend just texted me and told me to ride The Titan,” Ana frowned. “Isn’t that the big orange one?”

“Yes.”

Ana’s face became a scrunched accordion as she moaned, “Oh nooo…”

—————————————————————————————————————–

It was only a two minute drive from the suites to the park, which the men ended up being very thankful for when they had to drive back to the hotel after realizing that they had forgotten the “60% off” coupons upon arriving. Only the dads and kids of each family came along for this thrilling adventure, while the 2 moms and the Pinzon grandma chickened off to the mall. Karina didn’t expect to ever see her 84 year old grandma dangling upside down on a roller coaster, anyways.

Upon entering the park, Ana and Karina’s eyes roamed around the park in giddy amazement.

“I want a funnel cake! Do you wanna share one with me?” Ana cried.

“No, thanks.” (I wish!)

“Maybe later then.”

Before riding on El Sombrero, a somewhat of a kiddie-ride, a pair of boys becamed dazzled by the two girls’ already sweaty disposition and began hitting on them. The girls flirted back because these boys weren’t just boys, they were Speedy Gonzales and the Tasmanian Devil! Celebrities!

The girls rode around on some tame rides that simply spun and soared, and raced and rose before reaching The Titan, or “The Big Orange One.” Ana and her brother, Eddie, stayed behind with their dad and sent the Pinzon side of the family to ride alone. Karina, the dare-devil, remembered this ride from the last time she was at the park at the tender age of 11. She’d always been a tall girl, so she had actually been permitted to step onto this ride since she was 9 years old. It contained no loops or corkscrews, the classic adult-coaster thrills. It did, however, contain a 25 story drop and speeds up to 85 mph, making it a very intimidating ride, even to someone who was no longer a stranger.

Since Karina’s brother Victor is handicapped, they were given a pass to cut to the front of all lines in the park so that they wouldn’t have to wait in the blazing, face melting heat. Karina and Victor stepped into the two-seater of the coaster car, nervously, with their father in the seats right behind them for comfort. She could remember that the worst part of the ride was the beginning, in which the little car climbed up the 25 story elevation at an uncomfortably slow speed. As a girl with a slight fear of heights, Karina’s nerves were fixing to jump out of her.

The Titan took off slowly and crawled around a turn before it began to creep up the massive elevation. Karina closed her eyes as she started feeling the strong force of gravity pushing her back onto the seat. The painful sun began hitting her face with vigor and her heart started pounding violently inside her chest. By the time the car reached the top of the steel mountain, her pulse was crashing against her temples and she could hear the wind flying past her. And then the screams began.

The car plunged deeply down the fall and swerved onto its’ side, speeding around a twisting turn that resembled a whirlpool. It began to fly up and down the tracks of more miniature mountains, never slowing down, and took more daring turns that could make even the biggest man dizzy. At one point, Karina could feel her lips beginning to tingle and her once alert vision blacking out. She quickly reposed herself when her cheeks started flapping freely in the wind and couldn’t stop smiling at the adrenaline rush the wild ride was giving her.

The Titan came to an abrupt halt and everyone in the coaster car let out their breath with almost scripted timing. Some people whooped and cried that they wanted to ride The Titan again. Karina’s dad tapped her on the shoulder.

“That was so fast that I blacked out twice for a few seconds.”

“Me too! I thought I was the only one to black out because I’m ‘weak’ or whatever.”

They all stepped out of the car and ran over to the Philips to tell them how “awesome” the ride was and what they had missed out on. Karina could see the remorse in Ana’s eyes but didn’t worry much for her friend because when she said no to The Titan, she swore that she would ride everything else. Little did she know that The Titan wasn’t the toughest ride in the park…

To be continued…

Vandaag bij ons op het werk bezoek gehad van wellicht de bekendste muis ter wereld na Speedy Gonzales en Jerry (van Tom & Jerry), Geronimo Stilton. Hij was bij ons op bezoek in het kader van een project voor alle vierde leerjaren van Zonhoven. De afgelopen 10 jaar organiseerde de bibliotheek o.a. Fiesta Latina en Raksha Bandhan. Daar werd dit jaar van afgeweken.

Na de succesvolle actie die Humo deed rond een aantal boeken van Geronimo Stilton zijn wij nog een stapje verder gegaan. We hebben massaal veel titels ingeslagen (60 van de pakweg 100 reeds verschenen titels) die wellicht altijd zullen zijn uitgeleend volgens ons. Kinderen zijn er blijkbaar dol op. Nadat de mama’s reeds hun Mega Mindy-kostuumpjes hadden wordt het nu tijd voor papa’s Geronimo-outfit.

I’m a habitual double booker.  I say yes to events before I take a moment to think a) what day it’s on, and b) have I already made plans that day.  Tonight I agreed to head out to the Zone’s Puck Party, mostly because it guarantees free beer, and also to go see a double feature of Watchmen and Sunshine Cleaning that’s playing at the local 2nd run theater.  So rather than flake out on one, I’m canceling both to stay home by myself!

Since it’s Cinco de Mayo I’ll be making nachos and quesadillas and drinking Dos Equis while I watch the game on TV.  Luckily I have the ingredients for all those things left over from my sister’s visit this past weekend.  I’m also going to dye my hair, paint my toe nails, paste ticket stubs into my concert journal and read read read!

Cinco De Mayo is starting to sound pretty good.  In honour of our imported Mexican holiday, some entertainment.  “Speedy is a friend of everybody’s seester…”

***

While my sister was here over the weekend, we went and got our nails done at studio1284 by Macayla.  Not only do they look awesome, which is good because I can’t stop looking at them as they’re SO RED, but my fingers feel good.  Pretty hands may become a regular expense for moi!

***

Ok, back to Cinco De Mayo.  Here’s your song of the day, from Mexico naturally!  Also, they’re managed by Nettwerk Music, where my friend Monique happens to work.  Super sweet.

É com muita tristeza que se assiste à partida de Vasco Granja, um homem de voz doce e apaixonada, que contagiava diferentes gerações de pessoas, que cresceram a conhecer os desenhos animados da Disney, o Bugs Bunny, o Speedy Gonzáles, a Pantera Cor-de-rosa ou os filmes provenientes da Europa de Leste, sem esquecer as marionetes e as sombras chinesas…
A paixão pelos bonecos, a vontade de partilhar momentos mágicos e intemporais tiveram hoje o seu último acto.

Em jeito de homenagem, deixo o vídeo do meu episódio preferido da Disney, visto pela primeira vez no programa “Cinema de Animação”, que Vasco Granja apresentou durante 16 anos na RTP.

Is anyone else out here slightly creeped by this? For one thing, this can’t be Audrina. No way could her head be that small. And secondly, I am just crazy when I say that PETA is just crazy? What’s up with the angel-and-wings costume? Be An Angel? Come on now. And now because I feel like ut, I’m gonna enjoy myself a large hamburger and watch a dogfight.

Mice repulse me.  All rodents do really.  But mice are more dastardly than most.  They can simultaneously trigger my gag reflex and my motherly instinct for small, helpless animals, freezing me in place with an odd gurgling sound.  Best defense ever.  Some twisted part of my mind decides they are too cute to mangle with my frying pan every time. 

Gonzales has been tempting my no-mangling-mice-with-a-frying-pan rule a lot lately.  He decided to move in behind the stereo system while I was away.  No doubt a seasoned veteran of house-mouse wars, he manages to avoid every trap and every poison, navigating our painstakingly plotted “Mine Field of Death” with the ease.

Last night, we resorted to ulterior means.  Jason stalked and cornered Gonzales behind the bookshelf, while I shook the dust off my defensive basketball stance and prepared to trap Gonzales under a pot.  Unfortunately, Gonzales is also an escape artist.  I’m beginning to wonder if he had training in the circus as well as the Military.  The smallest crack in pot-to-carpet contact, caused by the handle, provided a direct route the underworld of the sofa, where he vanished.

He has yet to return to his behind-stereo lair.  In hopes of deterring him, the music in my house will remain at a mouse-but-not-Owen deafening level indefinitely.  (Indefinitely deafening seems like it should be an oxymoron, but it’s not.)  

If anyone would like to help us formulate future battle plans, we are all ears.  Yes, I wrote this entire blog hoping that someone would have a tactic which will thwart the sly (and speedy) Gonzales!

Personality, you’ve got it… so show it!

Coffee mugs are a great way to express personality at work or home.  They make great gifts and everyone likes using a classic mug!

I look for interesting mugs, that are in great shape.  If you are looking for a particular mug and don’t see it here, let me know and I’ll keep my open for you!

Be sure to check out Jimbo’s Variety Store and see all of the mugs I have listed.  I list often, so keep checking back so you don’t miss out on that must-have mug!

El Toro Mexican Grill appears to be a member of a chain, one of 19 restaurants whose core menu is based on a set of Tex Mex dishes, whose names are unique to Atlanta, that simply do not change from restaurant to restaurant (other examples include Fronteras and Poblanos).  The existence of the common Atlanta Tex Mex can be recognized by the dish called a “Speedy Gonzales” (taco, enchilada, and rice or beans).  And I can say, after some years in Houston, Texas, going to school here, and eating occasionally at Houston’s Mexican restaurants, I never once heard of a “Speedy with beans”. Not once.

So, having identified the cuisine, is this a good thing? Well, the best thing that can be said about it is that it’s filling and inexpensive, and not all that bad. It’s not really the acme of Tex Mex, but neither is it the abyss either. So, if the high end of border cuisine is a restaurant like Ninfa’s on Navigation, in Houston, or perhaps Posados in Bossier City, Louisiana, or Pappasitos wherever the Pappas family stakes a claim, this restaurant is living in the comfortable middle. And it’s not a bad place to be, the middle. When your entrees begin at $6.75 and many are under $8.00, then someone with a limited budget and a largish family might be able to afford to eat there.

This particular location is new, occupying a place at the corner of Pleasant Hill and Club Drive, in a building that used to contain a Japanese restaurant, which failed, and then Gaucho’s Grill II, an Argentinian steak house, which also failed. It’s a nice location, easy to access, and I had some hope that this restaurant would turn out all right.

A brief taste test suggests it will. I tried the Enchiladas Supreme (identical dish can be found at Poblanos), and my daughter tried their sopapillas (which looked suspiciously like chips drizzled with cinnamon, as opposed to the New Mexican style sopapillas I grew up with). The best of the enchiladas was their chicken. I couldn’t be sure if they flavored their chicken the way Frontera’s does.

The restaurant was pretty full considering that they just opened, and Hispanics dominated the restaurant. The waitress was very nice, and told us that two weeks from now (now being April 7, 2009), they would be having a half price off special, probably on a Saturday. Might be worth looking forward to, for those in Snellville. If you like this kind of food, stop off as you drive down Pleasant Hill road sometime.

El Toro Mexican Grill
1492 Pleasant Hill Road
Duluth, Georgia, 30096
(770)-921-9656

Speedy Gonzales

The drug trafficking problem in Mexico stretches over 10 of the countries states and spills into much of the United States.  The ruthless cartels rule by violence including grenade attacks, beheadings and street executions.   The cartels are so powerful they have taken over a number of cities and the Mexican government could be on the verge of collapse.  Now that’s straight gangsta!

With that said, the true question arises:  Who is the single person in charge, Who is the new age ‘Don’ of Gangsta’s Mexican Paradise, Who is the Top Chihuahua?  After going undercover and infiltrating the each cartel the same face kept turning up.  The main man behind every drug cartel in Mexico is, dum dum dum, Speedy Gonzales.

It all lines up. It all makes sense.   Speedy Gonzales is ‘The Fastest Mouse in all Mexico.’  You need that speed to cross the border and not get caught.  Speedy can run to New York, hit Chicago and Houston on the way back, while carrying 4,000 kilos; in a single night.  He is constantly screaming, “Andale! Andale! Arriba! Arriba! (Mexican Spanish for Come on! Hurry up!).  A saying heard throughout the drug packing plants.             In all the cartoons Speedy is surrounded by the ladies and is a known womanizer.  A known stereotypical trait of the gangsta elite.  I mean watch a rap video, you’ll get the picture.

All this time you thought Speedy Gonzales was a sweet, intelligent mouse with positive qualities.  Now you know that is all wrong.  Speedy is straight gangsta, pushing around the little people and smackin up his hoes.

Je suis passé à côté cet été et dieu sait si je m’en mords les doigts mais il n’est jamais trop tard pour bien faire. Je ne dirais que trois choses : Greg le Millionaire, refrain en espagnol et torse huilé.