Good morning friends.  Water supply to parched Surendranagar may improve soon.  The waiting of many people in the village will soon end.    

Narmada water set to reach Dholidhaja dam from Sunday 

The drinking water woes of 651 villages and 11 towns of Surendranagar district may come to an end soon, with the Narmada water reaching the Dholidhaja dam from November 29. 

Located at the mouth of the Rann of Kutch, Surendranagar and other towns in the district receive drinking water supply once in five days, making life extremely difficult for locals. The drinking water situation in villages is far worse because of the heavy fluoride content in the underground water, making it completely non-potable. 

But the towns and villages with a population of over three lakh are likely to get daily drinking water supply with the Saurashtra Branch Canal (SBC) of the Narmada main canal carrying the Narmada water to the Dholidhaja dam. From there, the water will be taken to the filtration plants for further supply to the consumers. 

According to Sardar Sarovar Narmada Nigam Limited (SSNNL) officials, though the filtration plants and overhead water tanks had been constructed, they could not be used properly because of obstacles in transporting Narmada water to Dholidhaja dam. The dam is located at 66 meters above Narmada canal at Kadi, making gravitational flow impossible. 

SSNNL had to construct a total of five pumping stations to lift water and take it to the Dholidhaja dam. According to SSNNL officials, these pumping stations have been set up at Dhanki, Lilapur, Lakhtar, Bala and Sajdhar between Kadi and Dholidhaja. “It was really a Herculean task to construct pumping stations and take water to a higher level and difficult terrains of Surendranagar district,” said Harshad Thakar of SSNNL. 

While taking water to the dam would solve the drinking water problem of most part of Surendranagar district, seven branch canals measuring 759 kilometres are yet to be completed for providing irrigation water to 5.24 lakh hectares of agricultural land in Surendranagar district. – Indian Express

Berlin is a fascinating place: it is steeped in history which still resonates deeply throughout the city, from its wide boulevards around the Brandenburg Gate to its seamier quarters to the east of the wall.  The best way to orientate yourself and begin to experience the richness of the city is through one of the brilliant free walking tours.  I did one with New Berlin Tours and it was great; the guide, Mike, was funny and extremely knowledgeable, and the atmosphere was really friendly.

The majestic Brandenburg Gate

You meet close to the imposing Brandeburg Gate and spend the next three hours or so visiting all of the main attractions in the city as listed on the link above.  The new Holocaust Memorial, in the news recently after Easyjet ran fashion photographs taken there in its in-flight magazine, is a sombre and moving site, and the impact is probably sharpened by its proximity to the location of Hitler’s former bunker (which, unsurprisingly, is barely commemorated).

Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe

The museum is a terrifying reminder of the Third Reich, and is a difficult but truly worthwhile experience.  The personal stories which are told are evocative and harrowing, and a visit leaves you very contemplative for the rest of the day and a long while afterwards.

On a happier note, the memorial is next to a strip of truly dreadful cafeterias serving up second-rate reheated drudge to budget travellers such as myself.  I had the misfortune to eat a spaghetti bolognaise served up by a guy who looked like he was from the Village People, before being chased out of the bathroom by a very small woman wielding a can of air freshener and shouting at me in German.

I spent a lot of time in Berlin running away from toilet attendants who would attempt to extort half a euro every time as I so much thought about paying a visit to the loo.  I actually sprinted out of Dunkin’ Donuts near Zoologischer Garten station one day to escape from a particularly angry man who was brandishing a tip tray at me and making vivid gestures towards the toilet.

The Hotel Adlon

Opposite the Brandenburg Gate is the Hotel Adlon, where the late great Michael Jackson famously dangled one of his children out of the window.  The Presidential Suite on the top floor costs $12,000-a-night and has bulletproof glass in the windows among its many very cool features.  If I win the lottery…

The Reichstag is the home of the German Parliament, and its roof alone makes it worth a visit.  You can look down into the chamber when parliament is in session: “a reminder to the politicians that we are always looking in on them and that they are accountable to us,” an ageing Berliner told me.  Get there early to beat the crowds, and be prepared for a very thorough (in my case, patently illegal) level of frisking.  All I will say is avoid the security guard with the handlebar moustache.

The Reichstag roof

The Berlin Wall, which collapsed 20 years ago, is an integral part of the visit, though very few parts of it remain intact and those that do are protected by fencing.  As with many parts of the city’s history, there’s a residual feeling of shame and embarrassment about it amongst the city’s residents, who you feel would rather live without the permanent reminders of their country’s past.

Checkpoint Charlie

Checkpoint Charlie is very artificial and one of the few attractions in the city which is a little underwhelming.  But you can take your disappointment away by heading into the unbelievably decadent Fassbender & Rausch chocolate shop which has models of things such as the Reichstag and the Titanic, all made out of chocolate.  The only thing stopping me from plunging my face straight in was concern about how long they had been there.

The Reichstag - made of chocolate

My face upon being told not to eat the Brandenburg Gate

Pergamon Museum entrance

The TV Tower - all 368 metres of it

A penguin doing his best Marilyn Manson impression

The sign marking the death march

As with the Holocaust memorial in the city, it is a very graphic realisation of the horrors of what went on there less than a century ago.  The tour around is well-constructed and allows plenty of time for personal exploration and reflection.  Imposing, thought-provoking, and with a huge underlying unease, it in many ways replicates the city itself.

'Freedom through work'

With not much happening on the news front, and the release of the last few ‘big’ albums this year, I’ve had a lot of time to think. First off, how the hell am I going to afford to see Slayer/Megadeth, Alice in Chains, Between the Buried and Me/Cynic/Devin Townsend Project/Scale the Summit all within a few weeks of each other? (Donations or job offers are welcome for both Dan and I) The downtime also has me pondering my top albums of the year, but thanks to an incredibly awesome album by the aforementioned BTBAM, its been hard to recollect the previous 11 months worth of music…Damn you 6-song, hour-long, chunk of progressive metal goodness!!! Both Dan and I will have our favorite albums up sometime in the next few weeks, but for now, enjoy a video from the Village People……..yes the Village People. Then watch the newest video from Protest the Hero, there is a connection and trust me, it’s worth it.

-Chris

Still more manly than the Jonas Brothers

(The Village People)

So was Herve

Picture by: dunno source Caption by: alobf via Our LOL Builder

» Recaption This!

» View All Captions

1.Village People – In The Navy [03:43]
2.Village People – Go West [03:35]
3.Village People – Y.M.C.A. [03:44]
4.Village People – Macho Man [03:26]
5.Village People – Can’t Stop The Music [03:38]
6.Village People – Sex Over The Phone [06:26]
7.Village People – Village People [03:23]
8.Village People – Ready For The 80’s [04:02]
9.Village People – Do You Wanna Spend The Night [03:36]
10.Village People – I Am What I Am [03:22]
11.Village People – San Francisco (You’ve Got Me) [03:24]
12.Village People – Fire Island [03:27]
13.Village People – Hot Cop [03:21]
14.Village People – Go West (Remix) [03:59]
15.Village People – We Want You (Megamix 98) [03:31]
16.Village People – Y.M.C.A. (12” Mix Special Dj) [06:43]
17.Village People – In The Navy (12” Mix Special Dj) [06:22]

BAJAR PARTE 1
BAJAR PARTE 2

Charlie the Hut has done it again.  All bad feelings aside though, thanks to the mupppets for bringing pillaging and raping from the vikings back to what it was, comical!

Parce que le groove du disco est toujours abusé.

MACHO MAN – THE VILLAGE PEOPLE

“I ve got to be a macho man”

Macho Man

YMCA

Just a gigolo

In the Navy

New York City

San Francisco

5 O’clock in the morning

Sex over the phone

Do you wanna spend the night

Go West

Background Articles and Videos

Village People

“…Village People are a concept disco group formed in the late 1970s. The group is well known for their on-stage costumes as for their catchy tunes and suggestive lyrics. Original members were: police officer (Victor Willis), American Indian chief (Felipe Rose), cowboy (Randy Jones), construction worker (David Hodo), biker (Glenn Hughes) and Military man (Alex Briley). For the release of “In the Navy”, both Willis and Briley appeared as an admiral and a sailor, respectively. Originally created to target disco’s primarily gay fan base by featuring stereotypical gay fantasy personas^[1], the band’s popularity quickly brought them into mainstream.

Village People scored a number of disco and dance hits, including their trademark “Macho Man”, “Go West”, the classic club medley of “San Francisco (You’ve Got Me) / In Hollywood (Everybody is a Star)”, “In the Navy”, “Can’t Stop the Music”, and their biggest hit, “Y.M.C.A.”.

Village People have sold 85 million albums and singles. In September, 2008 the group received a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame.^[2]

^…”

^{http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Village_People}

Village People

^{http://www.officialvillagepeople.com/}

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Somewhere between midterms and fall parties and oversized flannel shirts paired with black leggings tucked into slouchy crochet style Uggs, it hits you. It’s Halloween crunch time. One morning you roll out of bed and realize your roommates have already perfected their Village People getup, your best friend and her boyfriend are pop culture referencing the shiz out of Taylor and Kanye, and your pseudo-fratty neighbors have their imitation silk Wal-Mart robes ready to make Hugh Hefner proud.

But with T-minus 36 hours to arguably the biggest party night (week?) of the year, you got nothing. Eff. You need to throw something awesome together fast.

Never fear.

Here’s a quick list of insta-costumes, all using stuff you probably have in your closet already or can snap up at Target on the cheapsies.

Super Hero: Mid-drift baring Wonder Woman costumes are so overdone. And also $60. Ouch. Save yourself the cash and the killer ab workout and opt for bright swimsuit bottoms over leggings, topped with a cami or another snug-fitting top. Decorate with your monogram in masking tape or Google image search a cause—maybe you’ll be super pizza bagel girl, or captain celebrity gossip. Complete the look with one of those thick workout headbands; fashion a cape from a sheet, or make a run to the fabric store for something snazzier. Wear boots and recruit sidekicks.

Beyonce: This one may take a little more effort (and guts) but if you got it, work it. You can pick up a black leotard at Wal-Mart, or any dance supply store. From there, all you need is a gaudy ring, tall heels, taller hair (great time to break out the Bump It) and YouTube dance moves. Convince the boyf, or another suitable male, to go as Jay-Z. Otherwise, live it up as a single lady. Hello, Sasha Fierce.

Toga: Nothing screams stereotypical college party like a toga. (Ok, maybe a keg stand, but that’s not really the point here, OK?)  There’s a reason those Animal House guys rocked out with their sheets out – toga’s are easily the simplest last minute costume known to co-ed kind. It’s a classic, and though you won’t get any creativity points, it’s still a very respectable choice. Spice up your linens with gold jewelry and this summer’s gladiator sandals. Hey, it’s the perfect excuse to pick up a sale pair during the off-season.

Barbie: Sure, she isn’t exactly a role model, but neither is the slutty flight attendant next to you. What Barbie lacks in realistic proportions, she makes up for in recognizable attributes, perfect for last minute costumes. Pull on something pink, break out that Beyonce bump it, and carry a hot pink hairbrush. If you can pull it off, speak in high-pitched catch phrases for most of the night and maybe that Ken doll lookalike will invite you back to the dream house. Consider renting a hot pink Ferrari.

Hey, You Look Familiar: Pick one of your friends with an especially unique, memorable style. Raid their closet. Develop their mannerisms. Make out with their boyfriend? Depends on your level of commitment. This costume works best if your friend has a high profile and a good sense of humor.

Balloon Boy: We were all waiting for one more piece of culture to pop and we got it just in time for Halloween. All you really need is a giant balloon wrapped in tinfoil and perhaps a Tupperware to barf into when you’re being interviewed on national television. Easy peasy.

All right dear readers, help some sisters out. What’s the best last minute costume you’ve ever pulled off? Any stories of impromptu get-ups gone wrong?

I’m co-presenting my church’s talent show this year, and my co-host and I met up today to rehearse our opening skit.

Imagine, if you will, how cringe-worthy it is to be in an empty hall, dancing karaoke-style to the Village People’s YMCA at full blast when Uncle Oscar walks in.

Uncle Oscar is, of course, not my uncle. I just call him that. Never to his face, though. He might get weirded out.

Instead, Uncle Oscar is one of my best friends’ dad. However, recently he’s become such a father-figure to me, I call him an uncle.

Surprising, really. I sometimes don’t understand why he puts up with me. After all, I have had a massive thing for his daughter for a year. And his niece.

And his other niece.

And his son’s girlfriend.

And his son’s ex-girlfriend.

…

Uncle Oscar is a very patient man.

What also amazes me is how open I am; how comfortable I am telling him my deepest darkest secrets – about his family.

In fact, we talk about my life a lot. He asks me how things are going. With his niece.

We joke about it. We make jokes about who is left in his family for me to have a thing for.

Oh well.

When you meet someone who is very patient, has a great sense of humor, cooks good food for you, and doesn’t mind you hitting on their daughter, make sure you treat them well.

In case you hadn’t heard, the old Sydney University rag Honi Soit last week published its annual Gay and Lesbian issue, and was given the title “Queer”. Now not to sound like a sociocultural dinosaur, but just when did this term transform from a pejorative remark into an expression of power? Is there some dreadful irony that I am missing here? While we’re on it, the same goes for dyke. When exactly was the tipping point at which this primitive insult turned into a term of endearment? Nevertheless, I marvel at the ability of the gay community to turn these affronts to their sexuality into part of their nomenclature.

 But really, all that’s beside the point. The thing I have the most trouble understanding is why exactly they choose to run a “Queer” edition in the first place. Whilst I support the concept of giving the gay student population a voice, I just don’t feel the execution is top notch. Here are the facts:

• Percentage of people at university who are gay/bisexual: The Queer Society would have you believe that everyone in the world has an unconscious, Freudian urge for homosexuality. But realistically, the number is more likely around the 20% mark.
• Percentage of people at university who read Honi: 10% (and that’s being generous)
• Hypothetical percentage of people whom this issue will appeal to: 2%

 2%! That’s one out of every fifty students will see this issue and pick it up. If only 2% of the student population is actually reading it, that has to count as an undeniable failure to inform, especially considering Honi has basically a monopoly on the university newspaper market (sorry, The Bull). So here’s my proposal:

 Have a section of Honi Soit devoted to gay and lesbian affairs (not ones of the sexual kind either).

 I mean, if the post-graduates can have their own two-page section, why can’t the homosexual students? Hell, they could even replace the post-grad part; it’s easily the most boring part of an already dull newspaper. But really, wouldn’t it be better for the gay student community to be constantly, and not annually, updated on their rights, stories etc.? Plus this way the regular readers don’t get disrupted. And you wouldn’t want to anger the readers. They might write an angry letter to the editors. They might even start using spare copies as toilet paper! (Alright, that’s just me.)

 Also, to me it screams preferential treatment when there is a “Queer” issue, yet the international student cohort doesn’t get their own issue, despite being a similarly sized minority. What’s that? You say, “How could they do an international issue, when there are obviously students from many different cultures and backgrounds?” It’s a newspaper! Newspapers consist of many pages! Many pages= many stories= many cultures being represented. Duh.

 But really, the strangest thing about this is why do we actually still need a gay and lesbian issue? How can there be people who don’t know that some people are homosexual? Well, I think this naivety isn’t actually the problem. No, the problem rests on the uniform-clad shoulders of The Village People.

 The Village People, in case you’d forgotten, were the boy band (man band?) behind such horrible, inexplicable hits like “Macho Man” and “YMCA”. Their ultra-camp outfits soon led to them becoming gay icons (despite the majority of them not being gay), and inadvertently created many unwarranted gay stereotypes. They also effectively destroyed the reputations of the YMCA and the Navy, but we don’t really care about that. What is relevant to this post is that the effects, nay the curse of The Village People is only just wearing off. People are now realising that all gay people do not in fact wear leather police outfits and cowboy costumes whilst performing neatly choreographed dance routines. They are only just discovering that having a moustache does not equate to homosexuality (nor does it to pornstardom). So in effect, and in conclusion, The Village People set gay rights and perceptions back about 120 years. And it’s only now that it is being fixed.

 Note: If you liked this article- actually, scratch that- If you read this article, then tell your friends! And by tell them, I mean direct them to this site. I want to get more viewers of this than there were theorised readers of Honi’s Queer edition. Which was 900.

I have been reading a new book this week called “And Party Every Day” by Larry Harris. It tells the story of Casablanca records and how they went from nothing to becoming one of the most powerful labels in the music business. Casablanca, as you may recall, is the label that brought KISS to the world, although they were somewhat of an anomaly to the label. Casablanca became known as the “disco” label at a time when disco was king of the charts. Being a lifelong enlistee in the KISS Army it was inevitable that I would be drawn to this book written by the late Neil Bogart’s second in command. It is a very revealing read.

Although the book is excellent, this is not a book review. In reading the book it becomes clear that Neil Bogart, the founder and President of Casablanca, was one of the most innovative and effective propagandists since Joseph Goebbels. In the music business, it would be reasonable to suggest that selling a lot of records will get you to the top of the music charts. In the world of Casablanca records the equation would be reversed. If you are at the the top of the charts, you will sell a lot of records. Casablanca’s promotion department was masterful at creating the illusion of success. Often times, ethics would take a back seat to the creative engineering and manipulating of  music charts, as well as the fabrication of awards, in order to create the perception of success. Later, the reality of success, in terms of hit songs and albums, would occur as a natural consequence of their manipulations. To be fair, they were usually correct, the reality of success, more often than not, soon followed. And to be more fair, it isn’t like they were the only ones doing it. Likewise, no one should doubt such manipulations are ongoing in an industry that thrives on illusions.

I cannot help but see a connection with the “engineering” of the music industry that Casablanca was so adept at in the 1970’s, and the social engineering being attempted by socialists today. This is particularly obvious in the ludicrous announcement this week that our President. Barack Hussein Obama, has been selected as the recipient of the 2009 Nobel Peace Prize. It is the classic example of attempting to manipulate reality through illusion. But of course, this is no surprise. Socialists live in a world of make believe and are always stunned at their repeated failure to turn fantasy into reality. So just grab yourself a Donna Summer record and enjoy the ride.

Reaction all over the world to the announcement has been predictable: a resounding chorus of “for what.” Whatever credibility this award had remaining, after being bestowed upon such arbiters of peace as the likes of Yasser Arafat, has been dealt a final, fatal blow. Obama had been in office only 12 days when the Nobel nominations were due. That’s a mere 288 hours for Obama to have been deemed award worthy. Apparently this is an example of “affirmative action” going international.

Our glorious leader was sound asleep in the White House when the Norwegian Nobel Committee made the announcement. The committee claimed that he was being honored for his “extraordinary efforts to strengthen international diplomacy and co-operation between peoples.” The committee also praised the “change in the international climate” that the President had brought, along with his cherished goal of ridding the world of nuclear weapons. “Only very rarely has a person to the same extent as Obama captured the world’s attention and given its people hope for a better future,” it added.

Ahh, I get it. He deserves the award for not being George W. Bush. It seems to me that this is something that Obama can truly credit to his predecessor, as clearly this award was a swipe at him. Yet I have yet to hear Obama “blame” Bush for this like he does every thing else…reckon why? Perhaps our President’s sizable ego tells him that winning a Nobel Prize was inevitable. The justification is not important.

The award is also an example of the growing aspirational trend of Nobel committees over the past three decades, by which awards are given not for what has been achieved but in support of the cause being fought for. The United Nations is making a tremendous push to get an international agreement on global warming. They are in a hurry as the fraudulent science that this international income redistributionist scheme is built on, is crumbling in the face of a decades worth of evidence of globally cooling temperatures. Everyone knows there will be no meaningful agreement without the co-operation and involvement of the United States.

Any fool can see that this is an obvious attempt at manipulating the United States by international socialists. By boosting Obama’s international prestige with this award, they hope to manipulate the United States into passing significant carbon emission reducing legislation. They are Hell bent on redistributing the wealth of the United States to the rest of the world. Obama managed to get an extortionist cap and trade climate bill through the House of Representatives this summer…but at great cost. The bill barely passed with a lot of White House arm twisting. The President used up valuable political capital, yet the bill now finds itself stalled in the Senate where Senators have no appetite for it. In the eyes of the Nobel prize Committee Obama needs help, and they have given it to him. Like Casablanca before them, they have created the illusion of success in hope that the reality of it will follow. If only Barack would dress like a cop and sing “Macho Man,” this might come to pass.

However, for those of you seeking some thread of justification for this award, let me comfort you by providing it. President Barack Obama has effectively eliminated the United States entire arsenal of nuclear weapons. His cherished goal of worldwide nuclear disarmament may be out of reach but by electing him we have helped him make the first move. Don’t believe me? Well, consider this: Our Commander In Chief received a request for more troops for the Afghanistan conflict from his handpicked General Stanley McChrystal over five weeks ago. He waited three weeks before he even acknowledged that the request had been made, and only then after word of it it had been leaked. Now he is said to be deep into discussions and deliberations as to his next move on a war he claimed was the “right” war as opposed to Iraq being the “wrong” one.

And how is that decision coming along? Any soldier can tell you that indecision is a greater danger than making an incorrect one. Apparently we have a Commander In Chief that suffers from indecision paralysis. In war, time and speed are often the important ingredients that make the difference in success or failure. Commanders in the field should be handicapped by deliberations and war councils far removed from the fighting. That is a recipe for defeat. Perhaps Obama feels he has the time for excessive deliberation considering the nature of the Afghanistan battlefield. However, leaders throughout the world are observing the paralysis of Obama’s decision making process…and they are taking notes. they have discovered that when it comes to decision making, he is no George W. Bush.

Don’t be too impressed by the supposed collapse of the old Soviet Union. All of those intercontinental ballistic missiles (ICBM’s) that were pointed our way during the cold war are still there, and they are still aimed at us. Though tensions between the United States and Russia may seem to have eased in the aftermath of the Soviet collapse, there is a lot of ill will and resentment within Russia over the loss of prestige and influence that their superpower status once entitled them to. Such feelings are at the core of the relationship to Vladmir Putin and the United States. Obama recognizes none of this.

It takes 25 minutes for an ICBM to reach the United States from Russia. Is a man who is paralyzed when confronted with a decision about committing troops to an ongoing conflict the man to give the order for a retaliatory strike against Putin’s Russia? No. For all practical purposes, the United States has no nuclear arsenal as the Commander in Chief has not got the will to use it. All the firepower in the world is useless if there is no one willing to give the order. Our enemies know this. We may not survive this administration.

World leaders from Putin to Ahmadinejhad and Kim Jong Il have been bullying our President without fear of reprisal. Such weakness only serves to promote war. To a proud and resentful old KGB agent like Putin, the opportunity to lay waste to his greatest enemy may be to great a temptation to pass up. Our survival depends not on our President’s willingness to defend us, he won’t, but on Putin’s sense of morality and fair play. To attack the defenseless amounts to murder. Can he, or will he, murder us?

Unfortunately for us, the answer is probably, yes. Our President has been making the case since before he was elected that the United States exploits the world and its resources for its own selfish desires. Our own President has made the justification for our execution in the name of “social justice.” He has humbly bowed before the world and pleaded our guilt for crimes against humanity. By betraying his country to its enemies he will be a hero to the rest of the America hating world. Certainly the man responsible for placing us at the mercy of the world’s judgement is entitled to a Nobel Peace Prize. By giving him his award in advance, we can celebrate it with him. After all, we won’t be around to celebrate after he actually earns it.

The world has given him his reward. They have proclaimed him a great man. Now he must turn that perception into reality by delivering us to our enemies. Just envision your destruction to the tune of the decadent seventies most decadent band singing “Macho Man.” A symphony of destruction for the United States of Mystery Babylon.

PREVIOUSLY ON HEY, DO YOU REMEMBER…

Sports. Charles Barkley. The song from Friends. Jock Jams (please reference below).

…

The Official Jock Jams, Volume 1 Complete Track Rundown (cont.)

6. Pump It Up, Go ‘Head, Go ‘Head–If memory serves, this is a cheerleader cheer. You know, in case you’re not pumped enough after the first five songs. I appreciate a soundtrack that looks out for the best interest of the listener’s cranked-ness.

7. Come Baby Come by K7 (1993)–I know that some self-respecting women don’t care for rap songs that tell them what to do, and even the title of K7’s Jock Jams entry is imperative, but how are you ladies going to resist a song that rhymes ‘innuendo’ with ‘Nintendo’?

8. It Takes Two by Rob Base & DJ E-Z Rock (1988)–Warning: NOT a cover of the Kim Weston/Marvin Gaye song. It may take two to make it outta site, but it only takes one to listen to this masterpiece on repeat in his bedroom until dinner time.

9. Gridiron Groove–Not a real song. Next.

10. Gonna Make You Sweat (Everybody Dance Now) by C+C Music Factory (1990)–Wikipedia credits this jam with the initiation of the early 90s house movement. I’ll see if I can find an address to post up so you all can mail in your thank yous.

11. Hip Hop Hooray by Naughty by Nature (1993)–Still trying to find some of those Naughty by Nature bedsheets. Damn you, Santa.

12. Pump Up the Volume by M/A/R/R/S (1987)–How can a track that seems so simple also seem so repetitive? If all I need is a drum machine, some scratch effects, and an Eric B. & Rakim sample, then I will single-handedly resurrect the Jock Jams series! Who’s coming with me?

13. The Power by Snap! (1990)–If you listen to this one and DO NOT feel like you’ve got The Power, I personally owe you $12.99.

14. Uh, Ungawaa!–No idea.

15. Unbelievable by EMF (1990 [U.K.], 1991 [U.S.])–A little band called Queen proved that a group of scrawny, pale Englishmen could write songs that would rock American sports arenas for years and years. Then EMF proved that a group of scrawny, pale Englishmen could write a song that would advertise a Kraft Foods product around the year 2005. Crumbelievable? Believe it!

16. Y.M.C.A. by Village People (1978)–Whether you hear this classic at a Chuck-E-Cheese or The Bloke Stroke Bar & Night Club, you’re doing the dance. You know you’re doing the dance…

17. Pump Up the Jam by Technotronic (1989)–This song went triple platinum. Triple. Platinum. This song, Pump Up the Jam, it went triple platinum. 3X platinum.

Triple. Triple platinum.

18. Twilight Zone by 2 Unlimited (1992)– You unlock this door with the key of UNLIMITATION. Beyond it is another dimension: a dimension of SOUND, a dimension of SWEAT, a dimesion of BOOTY. You’re moving into a land of both BASS and RHYME CAPABILITY, of GRINDS and AROUSALS; you’ve just crossed over into the TWILIGHT ZONE BY 2 UNLIMITED.

19. The Old Ballgame by Ray Castoldi–Ray Castoldi tickles the organ keys for the New York Knicks, the New York Rangers, and the New York Mets. I have to thank ESPN for presenting a compilation that includes a jazzed up breather track like this one right before the electrifying finale.

20. Rock and Roll Part 2 (The Hey Song) by Gary Glitter (1972)–This tune has been an institution of sports culture since it first played at a Colorado Rockies game in the late 70s. Hands down one of the most recognizable songs you’ve ever drunkenly swayed back and forth to. My friend Corey and I once double-handedly initiated the Wave at a hockey game to The Hey Song. We literally did the wave over and over again by ourselves until we finally got our entire section standing up. Then sitting down. Then standing up. Then BOOM! The Wave, son.

I won’t go into the details, but it turned out that Gary Glitter is a freak. You can look up the specifics elsewhere. Suffice it to say that many teams no longer play the song during their events and if they do then it’s usually a cover version. But, hey, don’t let that keep you from enjoying this live performances of Rock and Roll.

This video contains the fabled Rock and Roll Part 1 before Part 2. Part 1 is similar to Part 2, but there is one major difference. Can you spot it? (Hint: THERE’S LYRICS!)

I wrote in Part 1 of this post that Jock Jams was the greatest moment in the marriage of music and sports. I believe the runner-up deserves an honorable mention.

Ladies and gentlemen, John Tesh’s Roundball Rock! LIVE IN CONCERT!

This week sees the launch of a new series on Eddie’s Football Blog. Like the ‘Ultimate Elevens’ series, ‘Microsoft Paint Stories Of The Week’ is more of an invitation to everyone who reads my blog* to do something fun and football related that isn’t the Soccer Saturday drinking game (glasses down back there).

Basically all you’ve got to do is take any story from the last few weeks of football news, and bring it to life via the magic of Microsoft Paint! It’s that easy, and they can be as crap as you like. In fact, the crapper the better. Send your ‘art’ through to me at eddiesfootballblog@hotmail.co.uk and I will put the funniest ones up on the site. Simples.

My first effort is an homage to Gareth Bale.

If you aren’t one for stats, or if you aren’t one for young Welsh fullbacks with immaculately sculpted hair, you may not have known that Bale went into Tottenham’s game with Burnley last Saturday having never won a game in the Premier League in 24 attempts. He was Tottenham’s unlucky charm, a poisoned chalice, an upside-down horse shoe, an… ok, you get the picture.

Anyway in a painting that throws a unique light on the situation, here he is celebrating Spurs’ 5-0 triumph, and finally smashing the monkey on his back (metaphorically speaking of course. Just so we’re clear, Gareth Bale did not kill a primate on Saturday afternoon).

You will also see that five of 1970’s camp disco group The Village People have turned up to cheer him on. They are big fans of Gareth, and especially like his hair. Actually, it appears that the Naval Officer loves Gareth’s coiffeured locks so much, that he has run onto the pitch (skillfully evading the steward’s grasp) and presented the man of the hour with a novelty comb. Marvellous.

Leave any advice for Gareth below.

If you want to get involved and do your own Microsoft Paint Story Of The Week, then draw it in Paint, and send it to me at eddiesfootballblog@hotmail.co.uk. As I said, if it is funny it doesn’t matter how crap the drawing is, and it will make it on the site! No Photoshop!

*Lest I forget, the invitation to draw your own ‘Story Of The Week’ also goes out to all of you lovely people who inexplicably ended up on Eddie’s Football Blog by typing strange word combinations such as ‘ugly boy’ and ‘Schweinsteiger Pepperami’ into Google. Whenever I look at the web search terms people have used to get here, there is always at least one person who clearly never intended to end up on the site. And if you are one of those people, welcome.

However, if you are the person who got here by searching for ‘bi-fi porn’, apologies, but I’m struggling to see how Eddie’s Football Blog can satisfy your needs!

i had the best birthday ever this year.  (september 7th, MARK IT DOWN.)

not only did we wear moustaches, but there was also food- and lots of it!

what.

girls club

(click on) the village people

papi made a classic paula deen quiche (with 1 pound of bacon-hello!), breakfast sausage,  and blueberry and chocolate pancakes.

oh yes, and we brunched on his roof with champagne and strawberries (obviously.)

friendsies!

you don't spell it son, you eat it!

Walking into the room with what can only be described as a shag chest carpet, he looks like a stunt double for a 70s porn star.  It appears he is frozen in a time and era that has never before heard of the word manscaping.

He has a full and thick moustache modeled after the “biker” from the Village People.  His chest hair sticks out from his open shirt like a groundhog checking to see how many more weeks of winter there will be.  Accentuated by gold chains and medallions, his thicket of chest hair is used to cover up his moobs [man boobs].  Like an uncontrollable weed outbreak, hair is not isolated to just his chest and face.  His back, forearms, legs, and feet are blanketed in body hair.  PETA has repeatedly thrown red paint on him thinking he was wearing a fur coat only to subsequently realize he was walking around shirtless while wearing shorts.  And did we forget to mention that his happy trail looks like a chia-pet trying to escape from his pants?

With so much body hair, he must take special precautions when hiking through the woods as he is often mistaken for Bigfoot or a yeti.  Did he shave a sheep, lather up in molasses, and then roll around in the wool?  Nope, that’s all him.  But its okay; he and his other bear friends are into the doughy physique and excessive body hair.

I got bogged down last week, trying to translate a short poem by Salvador Novo.  I starting looking at some background material and…then the Burro kicks up a fuss, and …. geeze, look what happens!

Burro Hall has every right to kick up a fuss about the break with tradition (and good taste) contemplated by Spanish matador, Joselito Ortega.

A little-known Spanish matador is breaking with a sacred tradition, agreeing to advertise on his cape while slaying bulls and endorse a soft drink that caters to gays.

It is, of course, its the disrespect to ceremonial aspects of the traje de luces and the desecration of the capote de brega any aficionado should rightly condemn –and is worthy of a news item — but the Associated Press, with their usual editorial clumsiness (or perhaps with their cultural blinkers on, and under the assumption that tauromachia is a form of rodeo, to be profaned with crass commercialism) writes the rest of the story about the last word in that quote.  As the AP writer (or editor) words it:

In Spain, matadors are seen by many as the pinnacle of macho, and Ortega’s agreement to endorse a product geared toward gay men is raising eyebrows.

Never mind that I have yet to see any eyebrows raised except in the English-language press about the gay angle… or about  gay matadors which has never been an issue in a sport that integrated racially and sexually (as well as gender-preferentially, if that’s a word) long before any other.

I’m more stymied by the AP use of “macho”.   “Macho” seems to be in the eye of the beholder, much like United States Supreme Court Justice Potter Stewart’s famous definition of pornography (Jacobellis v Ohio, 378 U.S. 184 [1964]): “I know it when I see it.”

“Macho”, in English, means “stereotypically masculine”, something early 20th century writers associated with Mexico, and by extension, with all Spanish-speaking males:

Our fascination with Mexico endured in the twentieth century. A particular fascination for the gringo male was the notion of extreme masculinity embodied in macho. Spanish macho seemed to offer opportunities for manliness and toughness unavailable in English. Macho was apparently known in the West by 1927; it made its way back to the New York weekly The Nation early in 1928, when a correspondent wrote, “Here I was in their midst, a Macho Yankee Gringo, yet treated with consideration.” More recently, author Norman Mailer was one who took machismo seriously. In his 1961 Advertisements for Myself he wrote, “Every American writer who takes himself to be both major and macho must sooner or later give a faena [a ritual performance like a bullfighter's] which borrows from the self-love of a Hemingway style.”

Norman Mailer and Ernest Hemingway aside (and I’m not so sure about Papa — or is it Papí?), “macho” has developed a slightly different set of connotations than when they wrote.  Oh, sure, it still means a “man’s man”… just not in the way they intended it to:

In the sense that some gay men are turned on by athletes, maybe “macho” might fit.  But, as the  not pornographic, but probably not completely safe for work Turkish gay site, “Casual in Istanbul” regularly featured semi-nude  (and often identified as gay) madadors,  soccer players and swimmers… it doesn’t appear the body builder “macho man” is exactly what the AP meant either.

At most — or at worst — all Machismo means in Spanish is what we call “male chauvinism”.  That has nothing to do with gay guys, or bullfighting particularly, although — in an odd way — it does have to do with one of the most unlikely of Mexican public figures of the mid-twentieth century, Salvador Novo.

Novo (1904-1974),  one of the most complex and contradictory writers of the twentieth century in the Hispanic world…  poet, historian, short-story writer, food critic, theater director, playwright, is sometimes compared to Oscar Wilde, not just because of his brilliant literary production, nor even because of his epigrammatic wit and use of irony, but because of his overt refusal to conform to the gender stereotypes of his times.  Unlike Wilde, though, Novo was never in the closet and, unlike Wilde, he was not punished … in fact, he was rewarded, becoming an important figure with the PRI and the government.

An “obvio” from his earliest days (he quipped later the two biggest girls in  Torreón were his mother… and himself), and his first published writings celebrated his same sex romances.  At 17 he was a published author, and arriving in Mexico City discovered both a “bohemian” culture that accepted and celebrated the unconventional and talented, and — more importantly — generous state funding for the arts.

The Mexican government in the 1920s was more than receptive to modernism in the arts — the Revolution demanded not just a change in politics, but a change in thinking as well.  And the State was willing to invest in artists.  The young Novo was writing for several new cultural magazines which may not have reached provincia, but were read by the nation’s new leadership.

Not that the literary and political establishment was completely tolerant of this strange new talent [my translation]:

Novo, like other Contemporáneos [the literary coterie associated with the magazine of the same name, founded in 1927] as civil servants, were often under attack for being “morally dubious”.  Those were the days of Gide and Proust and  Salvador Novo, building on that French dramatic tradition,  went a step further, writing a gay stage drama: El tercer fausto.

Making no secret of his relationships with  taxi drivers, professional wrestlers and what are now called “rough trade”, Novo was “out of the closet” publically in a way that would not be common until the late 1970s.   In his work and personal life he reinvented the hate-filled and invectives hurled at him into witty repartee.   Emmanuel Carballo says the star of the Mexican literature was  a cynic, “A being who calls those things we are forbidden to talk about by their right name.”  From his youth Novo learned to be what some of his contemporaries refused to accept:  a different human being. “This honesty with himself,” continues Carballo, “earned incomprehension, rejection and hostility.”

…

Novo … was openly and belligerently gay in times of ruthless assertion of literary machismo. With deadly satire and the repeated demonstrations of his talent,  Novo resisted harassment…

Talent is a natural resource not to be wasted, and satire is a deadly weapon in the hands of an enemy, and the establishment had no intention of alienating the modernists while they waged war against the old guard, and what they saw as the reactionary mind-set that had kept Mexico from assuming its rightful place in the world. And, following Lazaro Cardenás, the Revolution became the “Institutional Revolution”… in part a recognition that the “Revolutionary Family” included not just the proletariat and peasant, but the urban bourgeois as well. What hadn’t changed was the sense that the arts had a vital national purpose — as propaganda for state programs and as a means of developing a modern culture within a traditionalist society.

While Marxists — like Diego Rivera — echoing old Karl’s Victorian propriety, continued to snipe at Novo, the political class could overlook the obvious, and use the talent.  Novo, with Carlos Chavéz, was co-director of the new Instituto Nacional de Bellas Artes y Literatura, overseeing literary and dramatic productions throughout the country. In this role, among other things, he wrote and directed (and sometimes starred) in weekly historical radio dramas many considered it their patriotic duty to listen to. Not that something as witty as “The War of the Fat Ladies” (from an Aztec legend about fat ladies who defeated enemies by slapping them with their tits) had to be a chore.

Later, he served as director of public relations for various Cabinet Departments, among them the Secretariats of Education, Foreign Affairs and National Economy.

Appointment to the prestigious Academia Mexicana de la Lengua (the Mexican affiliate of the Real Academia Española) in 1952, confirmed Novo’s place in the establishment.  In 1965,  Gustavo Díaz Ordaz — not known for his tolerance of deviance of any kind — appointed Novo Cronista de la Ciudad de Mexico… city historian, a sinecure that paid a nice salary and seemed mainly meant to honor the writer, but was (as the devious Díaz Ordaz also knew) a way of keeping the talented, dangerously witty writer within the establishment at a time when the pressure was building for political and social change within the system.

By 1974, when Novo died, he was — with an irony he appreciated — seen as something of a reactionary, and — with an irony he should have appreciated — even a “macho man.”

The short version of the song that destroyed the Maileresque definition of “macho” (linked above) didn’t include this verse:

Every man ought to be a macho macho man,
To live a life of freedom, machos make a stand,
Have their own life style and ideals,
Possess the strength and confidence, life’s a steal,
You can best believe that he’s a macho man
He’s a special person in anybody’s land.

Hey! Hey! Hey, hey, hey!
Macho, macho man (macho man)
I’ve got to be, a macho man…

(Jacques Morali, Macho Man)

… and still working on translating the poem.

Con el “amor que no se atreve a decir su nombre” Oscar Wilde se refería al amor que siente un hombre por otro más joven, lo que en su caso concreto se traducía en ir a los puertos de Londres a buscar chulos y llevárselos a habitaciones alquiladas que luego dejaba perdidas (lean las alucinantes transcripciones de los juicios a Wilde publicados por la editorial Valdemar). Ahora, sinceramente, los gays ya no hablan tan bonito. Que se refieren a sus actos con pelos y señales, utilizando unas palabras gravísimas que cualquiera puede entender. Evidentemente lo que hemos perdido en poesía lo hemos ganado en libertad social y gramatical, lo que nos ha llevado de cabeza a la sobreutilización de anglicismos (“fisting”, “snowball” o “watersports” por citar los más corrientes). Junto a estos anglicismos que todos hemos incorporado a nuestro lenguaje cotidiano, el avance social del que hablaba ha venido acompañado de un avance en el campo de la técnica en el que justicia social y democratización tecnológica han ido cogidos de la mano. En este estado de cosas los gays ya no sólo pueden hablar tranquilamente de sus cosas, sino que lo pueden hacer utilizando las técnicas que la sociedad pone a su alcance, principalmente, aquellas relacionadas con la circulación de señales acústicas por medio de transmisiones eléctricas a distancia, esto es, el teléfono. Este post va de gays que hablan por teléfono de amor, algo si se quiere lógico porque como todos sabemos, el teléfono es el instrumento de comunicación más corriente en esta sociedad, y el amor es algo muy gay. El primer video que nos ilustrará en este tema es de un grupo fundacional, los Village people que con su canción “Sex over the phone” ponen en marcha todos los recursos que uno se puede esperar: trajes y actitudes llamativas, juegos sucios, mujeres travestís y teléfonos que eyaculan fantasmagóricamente… lo tiene todo para gustar y a la vez asustar. Marcar el dial, desde que uno ha visto este vídeo se convierte en una experiencia totalmente distinta.

El siguiente grupo, bueno, muchacho, es Brontez un muchacho afroamericano gay que hace punk rock (con un grupo llamado The younger lover). Lo masssssssss, vaya. Tiene una voz rota, unas Vans molonas y una bicicleta que me recuerda a la que tenía en los USA (sniff, mi bella cruiser, fui capaz de venderla…). En la siguiente canción además le echa los trastos a un oso gay modernete, y desespera sentado frente al teléfono lamentándose “D-a-n-n-y why dont you call me on my telephone line?”:

Si pensamos que este muchacho vive en Oakland, donde le deben de estar sacando coplas, y que el video está dirigido por Justin Kelly, llegamos a la conclusión de que o bien la densidad de punks gays es altísima en esa ciudad o que es una amiga de Hunx, de Hunx and the Punx. Y es más bien lo segundo, ya que antes ambos formaron parte del famoso grupo electro pop Gravy Train, y ahora, creemos que deben estar peleados y se dedican a robarse ideas y video-clips; aunque creo que The younger lover se decantan más por el punk vieja escuela, sino oigan aquí sus grandes éxitos de juventud. No obstante eso, no puedo terminar este post sin dejar de volver a poner la mayor de mis obsesiones homosexuales, el propio Hunx de Hunx and the Punx, al que no puedo dejar de oír pero que sé, seguro, que algún día dispararé sobre él. Aquí lo tienen otra vez para fans obsesivos como el que suscribe, “Lagrimas sobre mi teléfono”:

Pero el amor gay no sólo es bonito para los implicados, sino que es además una muestra de la elevación social y termómetro del ambiente progresista para un país. Junto a todas estas cosas, por qué negarlo, es una interminable fuente de diversión para las amigas de los implicados: las llamadas, las noticias apresuradas, esos anglicismos tan bonitos. Por ello el día que A., o si quieren C., se eche un buen chulo (chicos, si os parecéis al del video de The younger lover dejar modo de contacto)… el día que eso pase los teléfonos van a arder. Del mismo modo que lo hacen en este número musical de Bye Bye Birdie (¿cómo hemos podido vivir sin esta película?) donde un grupo de amigas se pone al día de quien-se-ha-enrrollado-con-quien… El número musical empieza en el minuto 1:26 pero antes hay una explosiva conversación que recomiendo encarecidamente, después empiezan los colorines, los ritmos sincopados, la planificación cinematográfica completamente lisérgica, los bailes… en fin, parece que lo haya rodado John Waters puesto de anfetaminas

Terminamos con un grupo de muchachas Ukes of Hazzard que tocan el ukelele mezclándolo con el casiotone (¡¡¡¿¿??!!!) y que se han convertido en un hit de culto en internet gracias a su canción “Gay boyfriend”, que tiene, la verdad, muy mala leche. En este video, las amigas se llaman para contarse las excelencias de tener un novio gay…Chicas, ¿Quién no quiere uno así para este otoño?

Muy al hilo de este último video y por petición popular del domingo a la hora de comer, adjunto este video del Fary que habla, precisamente, del hombre blandengue, así en su acepción más vasta, basta y sociológica (“según he podido analizar” dice el hombre) para contrarrestar todo lo anterior, y dejar intacta nuestra hispánica masculidad que una cosa es la broma pop y otra cosa, pues…

¡¡Pasen buena semana!!

Com carinho aos meus amigos de classe!

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