Her Morning Elegance

~ lobablanca

There’s a new meme that’s circulating through teh Interwebz. I’m not going to link to it or tell you anything more about it than it’s a parody song written as a “tribute” to a very famous science fiction author. All it really is, though, is someone being crude for the sake of being crude, in this wolf’s humble, whiny opinion. Yet another example of someone wasting their talent just for the shallow shock value of it all.

Needless to say, viewing this inferior meme has made me want to combat it with something far more pleasing. Something like this video for Oren Lavie’s song “Her Morning Elegance.” This is what clever, creative, and classy looks like. Hope you enjoy!

Fall of the Fourth Estate

~ lobablanca

What has become of journalistic integrity in this country?

There was a time when I couldn’t start my day without absorbing as much news as I possibly could. This was predominantly during my Angry BloggerTM days, although I continued to be a voracious news hound during that lull in between those blogging days and now.

I still read and listen to a great deal of news, but not with the same insatiable need. Truth is, I think that my distrust of media outlets has outpaced my desire to be in the know regarding transpiring newsworthy events. I hate that this is the case. I hate feeling uninformed. But I hate the feeling of being manipulated even more.

The distrust began a while ago, although I definitely think it came to a clanging, crashing crescendo during the 2008 presidential campaign. I continue to believe that the coverage of this campaign was offensively manipulative on many fronts, abandoning real news for editorialized irrelevance and pandering to the most inconsequential coverage because it was more entertaining.

Call me curmudgeonly (and I’m sure many of you will), but I don’t want to be entertained by my news. I want to be informed. But when you find that you have to go to personal blogs or Jon Stewart to locate the facts that are missing from mainstream media outlets, it becomes glaringly obvious that there’s something failing within the machine that might become irreparable if it’s not addressed soon.

But when did the machine first begin to fail?

I think the diagnosis is many-layered, but I believe that the problems first began to arise with the arrival of 24-hour news coverage channels like CNN and later MSNBC and Fox News. Here was an idea that had the potential to provide viewers with unencumbered access to the most up-to-date and thorough coverage of news as it happened. Sounds good, doesn’t it? Unfettered access to the truth!

What we got, instead, was a gradual blurring of the lines between honest news coverage and editorializing that has reached insulting levels. Don’t believe me? Turn on any of these round-the-clock news channels and see what’s playing. More than likely what you’re going to find is opinion rather than news. Even when actual journalists are present on some of these shows’ panels, they’re providing their opinions on matters on which they report for other outlets.

It’s reached a point at which we’re not even allowed to come to our own opinions. Prime recent example: News coverage of a local crime that occurred last week started with the news anchor sitting next to a graphic that stated, “Disgusting Act.”

True, the incident in question was quite disgusting. But I don’t need you to tell me that. I need you to provide me with the facts of the crime and let me make up my own mind. Period. That is, after all, your job. To report the news.

However, opinion has somehow cloaked itself convincingly enough that it now mingles with the sheep, whispering its distracting song into the minds of anyone willing to listen. Why? Because it’s being sung by a “news” outlet? Printed in a reputable newspaper?

Do such things even exist anymore? Perhaps, but I believe they are slowly being eradicated by the instant gratification demands of the online generation, combined with features like “Post a Comment,” which more often than not are nothing more than thinly veiled cesspools of racism, ignorance, and intolerance. With the “anonymous” function, most comment sections on news sites inevitably tend to devolve into the modern day equivalent of wearing a hood at a cross burning. Don’t fool yourself into thinking that it’s a White face beneath the hood anymore. Anyone can be hateful! It’s as easy as the click of a mouse button!

It’s exhausting and frustrating and overwhelming all at once. And it’s not going to get any better. True, I know several journalists who strive to remain true to that mythological creature known as “journalistic integrity.” But they, too, seem slated for the inevitable march to extinction, replaced by sensationalism and emotionalism disguised as news.

I’m not naive enough to believe that journalists must be complete blank slates. I know that journalists have their own opinions, their own beliefs, follow their own convictions, and make up their own minds. But they shouldn’t be trying to make up my mind or anyone else’s. Report the news. Nothing more. Nothing less. And if you find that too difficult a beat to walk, perhaps you should consider switching to another line of work. I hear Sarah Palin is putting together her own discussion panel on Fox News…

Flashback Friday: Night Court

~ lobablanca

There are very few sitcoms from my childhood that I can tolerate today. I’m done with movin’ on up to the East Side. I don’t care what you would do without us, shalalala. I don’t want to take the good or take the bad, and quite frankly when you take them both, all you really have is a horribly cheesy sitcom to which time has most definitely been unmerciful.

But there’s something about Night Court. These characters of infinite flaws and infinite quirks provided endless laughs (most of which stemmed from jokes that I probably shouldn’t have understood at the age at which I was first watching the shows). It was one of those rare comedies in which character and actor merged so perfectly that you couldn’t imagine any other person ever playing the likes of Judge Harry Stone…Dan Fielding…Christine Sullivan…Mac…Bull…Roz.

Even early episodes from the first season that featured “limited edition” characters like Lana Wagner or Billie Young were ribald and hilarious. And then there were the pre-Marsha Warfield bailiffs, Selma and Florence, characters who lasted far too short a season before their actresses slipped their mortal coils. Rather than sweeping their deaths aside and staying the course of mindless comedy, the writers and the other actors faced each of these actresses’ passing with honesty, humor, and honor. I remember those being some of the most moving and finest offerings that television brought to my young world.

I adored this show, and continue to find it funny whenever I find it on television. Regardless of how obviously 80s it is, with Mac and his knit sweaters or Dan and his rampant sexual escapades and random references to things like the McDLT…or Christine and her glorious 80s frosted hair and obsession with Princess Diana and Prince Charles’s wedding, the writing remains sharp and satirical and extremely funny.

Then there’s Bob and June Wheeler. Perhaps the funniest recurring characters from the show’s run, they hold a special place in this Trekkie’s heart. Bob Wheeler was played by Brent Spiner, who would go on to play Lieutenant Commander Data, my second favorite character from Star Trek: The Next Generation. However, what most people probably don’t realize is that Bob’s wife June Wheeler also appeared in the Trek universe. Actress Annie O’Donnell portrayed Keena in the Deep Space Nine first season episode “Progress.” Even if it was only for one episode, she played a Bajoran, which means bonus geek awesome points in my book.

Before they reached space, the final frontier, however, here’s a clip of O’Donnell and Spiner in their first appearance as June and Bob Wheeler, those wacky West Virginian Yugoslavians with the worst luck to ever roll through Judge Stone’s night court.

BookBin2010: Section 31: Abyss

~ lobablanca

No, I didn’t read a novelization of the awesome James Cameron movie, The Abyss. This Abyss is the third book in the Deep Space Nine compendium, Twist of Faith, that I started reading last September. Remember how much I loved book one and book two of S.D. Perry’s Avatar?

This time the book wasn’t written by Perry. Instead, the story was done by Jeffrey Lang and David Weddle. Admittedly, I was a little spoiled by the powerful kickoff that Perry provided for the DS9 “eighth season” with her amazing two-parter, but I was willing to give this third book a shot (especially considering the fact that it’s part of this collection that I’m obviously keeping if only for Perry’s novels).

The problems I had with Abyss right from the start were two-fold: 1) the story focuses on Section 31, which was one of my least favorite additions to the Star Trek mythology; and 2) the book focuses on Julian Bashir. When I first watched DS9, I hated his character. That hatred has mellowed considerably throughout the years and, if anything, is now a tepid acceptance with mild spikes of “like.” However, combine both these issues and you’re really not starting out on a positive note with me regarding your tale.

I should point out here that this novel was part of a four-book Section 31 story arc that ranged from the original Star Trek to The Next Generation, this DS9 story, and finally Voyager.

Knowing that this was one part of a four-part story, I was a little worried that I wouldn’t understand what was going on in my part of the arc (but not worried enough that I ever considered buying the other three novels; again, I really don’t like Section 31). However, Abyss worked perfectly as a stand-alone story. If there was anything missing, I couldn’t tell. This book does tie in with events that took place in Avatar, as it should. Lang and Weddle did a great job, in fact, of connecting their story to Perry’s novels, picking up nuances and threads throughout. I very much enjoyed these aspects of the novel. There were also some great character development moments that were worth the effort to find as well. One of the greatest joys of all these eighth season DS9 books thus far has been the care and quality the authors have invested into character development. The DS9 crew is being handled in ways almost more impressive than they were on the actual show.

Regardless of my lack of enthusiasm over the actual Section 31 story, I still enjoyed reading this novel. If you did like Section 31, then you’ll probably enjoy it even more. It’s a well told tale with wonderful character moments scattered throughout. I’m still very much enjoying what they’re doing with Ezri Dax. There were equally intriguing moments concerning Ro Laren as well as a plot point concerning Colonel Kira that was kicked into motion by the events of Avatar and has left her quite vulnerable to those who do not wish to see her continue as commander of Deep Space Nine.

I’m very glad there’s still another book to go in this compilation (along with a short story), because I don’t want my time with the eighth season to come to a halt just yet. If things keep running at the impressive pace of the first three books, I will definitely be continuing with the next batch of novels in this series.

Final Verdict: Really now…what do you think I’m going to do with this book? 😉

These Are the Voyages…

~ lobablanca

Isn’t this the most wonderful mashup of science reality and science fiction EVAR? It’s the cast of the original Star Trek (sans the Shat) and Trek creator Gene Roddenberry at the dedication ceremony for NASA’s first space shuttle orbiter, the Enterprise.

Really, was there any other name they could have given this first shuttle? Well, actually, yes. The original name was going to be the Constitution, because shuttle construction was slated to be completed in 1976, America’s bicentennial year. However, when NASA made this announcement, they were inundated by letters from thousands of Trek fans who simply could not believe that anyone would dare suggest a name other than Enterprise for the first shuttle. NASA wisely rethought their plans…and meta history was made.

What could be cooler than this, you might ask? Allow Loba to show you.

What’s that? Is that…could it be…?

Well, yeah, that sure does look like a space shuttle. And that ginormous American flag must mean it’s an honest-to-goodness original! But…is it the Enterprise?

Would I give you anything less, denizens?

A brief explanation: In December 2003, the Smithsonian opened their Steven F. Udvar-Hazy Center near Northern Virginia’s Dulles International Airport. This center, an annex of the Smithsonian’s National Air and Space Museum (NASM), became the showcase for all of the larger pieces that NASM had collected over the years, like the Enterprise, but had no room at their D.C. location to showcase. Most of these pieces had been in storage for years, hidden away from public viewing, sometimes rolled out to the downtown museum for temporary exhibits but never finding a permanent home.

Pieces like the controversial Enola Gay, the Boeing B-29 Superfortress that dropped the first atomic bomb, code name “Little Boy,” on Hiroshima, Japan:

Or this Air France Concorde supersonic airliner:

(Can’t forget a shot of that famous needle nose!)

Or this beauty, the Clipper Flying Cloud, the only surviving Boeing 307 Stratoliner in existence:

Or the always X-citing SR-71 Blackbird (please, someone get my geeky comic book joke!):

The SR-71 and the Enterprise? There might actually be more awesome than legally allowed in this shot:

Okay, I think you get the general idea. The Udvar-Hazy is, without a doubt, one of the most amazing museums within the Smithsonian Institution. Why it took me this long to finally visit is beyond my comprehension. However, I can assure you that if you live within driving distance of this museum and you’re a big geek like me, then you need to visit. And, if you’re ever coming to the D.C. area, you should schedule a nice solid chunk of afternoon to pay a visit. You won’t regret it.

BookBin2010: Whatever Happened…?

~ lobablanca

This is going to drip with geekery, so if you’re not really into these things, you might want to just skip this entry. You have been warned.

So I’ve been going through this comic book reawakening lately. I blame the women in in my life: Kate Kane and Diana Prince. Everything was fine until I realized that Batwoman was hitting the comics circuit in such new and exciting ways. And then alternate universe discussions about the possibility of a Wonder Woman movie (if anyone utters the name Megan Fox at this point, I swear I will have you spaced by one of my Internet PersonalitiesTM) combined with the imminent rebooting of Wonder Woman’s comic storyline has inevitably pulled me back in in a huge way. Sitting on my desk right now, in fact, is a stack of Batwoman comics and issues 600 and 601 of Wonder Woman’s comic.

[Loba Tangent: I think those are the only two of the new Wonder Woman comics I’m going to be getting. What a meh storyline. Disappointed!]

Truth is, however, that I’m not much on collecting actual comic books anymore. I haven’t purchased comics on a regular basis since I collected the first three or four issues of the X-Files comics from Topps. Yes, it was that long ago. As much of a collector as I may be, I must draw the line somewhere, and lots of issues of comics are a little more clutter than I’m willing to bear right now. I guess this is why most of my comic books are in a trunk stored at my parents’ house.

Therefore, I tend to go for the graphic novels, those glorious compilations of several comics in one handy, pretty book. Like Elegy. Or like the latest graphic novel that I found at the library: Alan Moore’s Whatever Happened to the Man of Tomorrow?

I think the one thing that I have taken away from this graphic novel is a final acceptance that I enjoy Alan Moore as a conceptual thinker. But I really don’t enjoy his execution of those concepts. I didn’t come to this realization based on this collection per se, but I think it’s something that I already knew and just needed an excuse to finally accept it as the truth. I guess this book was reason enough to finally embrace what I already knew. Honestly, the stories collected in this novel weren’t all that bad. They weren’t all that great either. Middle of the road is where I would place the Man of Tomorrow.

The titular tale is easily the best of the bunch, and deals with some intriguing ideas concerning the Superman story. Is it possible for the indomitable Man of Steel to be stopped, eliminated from existence? Moore posits some interesting takes on these questions. Then comes a story involving Superman and Swamp Thing. I don’t really think anything else need be said about that one. It’s best experienced on one’s own. The final story, “For the Man Who Has Everything,” while not as strong as the eponymous story, is equally intriguing and equally enjoyable. And it features Wonder Woman. A lot. Oh, and Batman and Robin feature prevalently as well.

Truth is, I found each of the stories fun to read. They just weren’t…WOW. Apparently, the older I get, the more difficult it becomes to make me say “Wow.” Of course, I’m also the one who thought that a photo of my Wonder Woman and Xena action figures together was cool enough to warrant their own blog post. Go ahead, try to figure me out, denizens. I double dog dare you.

If you enjoy Superman as a character, which I generally do even if he isn’t one of my favorite superheroes, then you might enjoy these offerings from Moore.

Final Verdict: This book goes back to the library and doesn’t go onto my wishlist.

Amazon Princess Versus Warrior Princess

~ lobablanca

In response to a question regarding Wonder Woman and Xena, Lynda Carter once stated that she thought that Wonder Woman was very classy and that Xena…well, wasn’t. Don’t believe me? Here.

At first, I was a little miffed by this statement, even if it was said by La Carter herself. Xena, not classy?

Well, I’ve been rewatching my Xena DVDs lately…and, yeah, “classy” isn’t really a word I’d use to describe the warrior princess. There are myriad other far more suitable words that spring to mind. Classy just isn’t anywhere near the top of the list. Then again, in a time of ancient gods, warlords, and kings, you don’t really have much of a chance to be classy like Wonder Woman did.

All that said, regardless of whether or not even Carter thinks it’s right or fair to compare the two, it is an inevitable comparison. Which is what prompted this geek break photograph of my Wonder Woman and Xena action figures. Minus the shocking size differences (which shouldn’t be all that shocking; Diana is, after all, the Amazon princess of the two), look at them! There are far too many similarities between these two outfits than can be ignored. Okay, you can ignore them. Unless you’re a geek. Like me. Then they just scream at you every time you look at these figures. Which I do frequently.

I’m not saying anymore. I feel as though I’ve already said too much.

Oh, one more thing: bonus geek points if you can identify the photograph in the background.

BookBin2010: Alas, Babylon

~ lobablanca

I’ve mentioned before that I have a penchant for reading bleak, dark, sometimes post-apocalyptic stories. That’s how I ended up last year reading the dismal attempt by Cormac McCarthy to add to the post-apocalyptic subgenre of science fiction.

To be honest, that read caused me to shy away from this particular subgenre for a little while. That is, until I found the copy of Pat Frank’s Alas, Babylon that I had bought during my last trip to the local used bookstore. I don’t really know what caused me to buy this book, as I had never heard of it prior to finding it in the sci-fi section. I found the cover to be striking enough that I read the back cover blurb on a whim. When it sounded like something that I would find intriguing, I went ahead and added it to my pile of purchases.

[Subsequently, I haven’t been back to this particular used bookstore, since this is the kind of scenario that occurred each time I went there. In for a penny, in for…at least 10 books each time I walked out of the store.]

In all the ways that McCarthy’s story failed me, I believe Frank’s novel succeeded. In fact, I would rank this very high on my admittedly short list of experiences with such novelizations. Frank provides us with his take on what might have happened had the Cold War escalated into the constantly feared nuclear attack by Russians on American soil. Having been written in 1959, this was one of the first post-apocalyptic tales written during the height of the nuclear age and subsequent nuclear fears. Focusing on the town of Fort Repose, Florida, it tells of the survival of protagonist Randy Bragg and his circle of friends, lovers, and neighbors after massive nationwide nuclear attacks on all of America’s major cities, including the locations of all major military outposts.

What I found most intriguing about Frank’s tale, especially in comparison with the bleakness of McCarthy’s novel, is the surprising optimism of the story. Whether a genuine belief or perhaps a nationalistic attempt to placate the fears of the masses that, yes, we will survive anything because we are Americans, Frank puts forth a scenario that, while reflective of a dismal expectancy should something like this actually occur, remains hopeful. The protagonist and his co-survivors continue to push forward, continue to succeed in ways that are surprising and pleasing. There are pitfalls and there are heart-rending moments, but overall, Frank shows a collection of characters with an undaunted communal will to survive and thrive.

Additionally, while McCarthy presented a scenario in which all bets are off and to the most violent and ruthless go the spoils, Frank seemed determined to show us that not even something as destructive as nuclear fallout will bend the will of the upstanding American citizen. These survivors are not ones to be frightened or defeated by the appearance of scurrilous looters. They are determined, cautiously optimistic, and convinced that continuing to do what is right and just is the way to move forward, even when the enforcers of those right and just rules of play are no longer in effect. Perhaps this was nothing more than an exercise in convincing Americans that this is how we must remain, should nuclear attack ever become more than just a threat or a deeply ingrained fear, but regardless of its purpose or intent, it was an intriguing look at the mindset of one of the Americans who lived through those fright-heavy “duck and cover” years.

Final Verdict: Although this book at times dove deeply into the language of military and warfare (two things that admittedly do not hold my attention if they go on for long stretches), I found myself unable to stop reading, even when I was well into the time of night when I usually am settling down to sleep. I found this to be a very interesting peek into a period of American history about which I know only what is written in scholastic texts. Whether correct or conceived, it was well worth my time and shall remain a part of my library.

Flashback Friday: Lilith Fair

~ lobablanca

A long, long time ago, I can still remember how that music used to make me smile…

Well, sort of. It hasn’t been quite that long since music made me smile. I actually really enjoy music. It’s the concert experience that doesn’t make me smile all that much anymore. I’m not exactly sure when it happened, but at some point concerts became little more than soulless money sucks.

Actually, I do know when it happened, at least for me: Madonna’s Drowned World Tour back in 2001. What a dismal first (and only) Madonna concert! Plunging a clogged toilet is a more satisfying (and interactive) experience than this concert was.

But there are still lots of musicians on tour who put on exemplary concerts. For example, regardless of what you think of her or her music, Tori Amos is always going to be worth the price of admission. She is bizarre in the most wonderful ways, and her playlists always include music from her entire career, even sometimes going all the way back to her Y Kant Tori Read days.

And then there’s Sarah McLachlan, possibly one of the loveliest music imports that Canada has been kind enough to share with us. Her voice is beautiful, her smile is enchanting, and her concerts are always a joy to attend. It’s been a while since McLachlan was at the top of the popular music game, but she continues to release new music and continues to be involved in the music scene.

[She also continues to make Loba feel guilty on a regular basis with those soul-crushingly sad ASPCA commercials that make Loba want to run out to the nearest shelter and adopt EVERYTHING THERE. Seriously, I’m not allowed to watch these commercials anymore, because by the end, I’m looking for my car keys while sob-singing along with “Angel.”]

McLachlan is also the driving force behind Lilith Fair. Quick history herstory of this event: Back in 1996, when McLachlan was literally everywhere, she decided that it was ridiculous and completely misogynistic that concert promoters refused to place more than one female artist on a ticket at a time. The boys were being allowed to play together at venues like Lolapalooza…why couldn’t the girls be allowed to do the same thing?

So that summer, she paired up with equally hot-at-the-time musician Paula Cole (who has apparently gone the way of those mysterious cowboys she was looking for back then) as well as a few other female artists, and they all played several venues together around Canada and, I think, the United States.

These concerts were enough of a success to prove to McLachlan’s promoters at Nettwerk that there might actually be something to this all-girl line-up thing after all. So they teamed up with some marketing folk in New York and Lilith Fair was born.

[Loba Fun Fact: No, the concert is not named after Frasier’s ex-wife. Lilith is believed by some religious sects to have been Adam’s first wife, who subsequently left Adam after hearing too many times, “Baby, bring me a beer…and what’s for dinner? I’m starving!” Of course, she is demonized by the patriarchal religious texts in which she does appear. Then again, so is Eve…]

The original Lilith Fair played every summer from 1997 through 1999, and it was amazing. Almost every active female performer from the music world, big names and small alike, wanted to be a part of this annual event: McLachlan (of course), Sheryl Crow, Paula Cole, Jewel, Fiona Apple, Joan Osborne, Queen Latifah, Lisa Loeb, the Dixie Chicks, Shawn Colvin, Missy Elliott, Bonnie Raitt, the Pretenders, Mary Chapin Carpenter, the Indigo Girls, Meredith Brooks, Natalie Merchant, Erykah Badu, Luscious Jackson, Liz Phair, Juliana Hatfield, Nelly Furtado…the list just went on and on. If you want to see all the performers, check out the Wikipedia page on Lilith Fair.

I only went to the 1999 Lilith Fair, but I remember having a hella great time. The concert started in the early afternoon and didn’t wind down until around midnight. We had lawn seats, which were perfectly priced for recent college graduates treading the waters of a final summer of freedom before diving into the deep, dark waters of “Big Girl” employment. Of course, one cannot enjoy an outdoor concert unless it rains…and it poured for most of that afternoon. I think it took almost an entire week for my sneakers to finally dry after that day!

I also remember that the line-up was amazing. It was my first time seeing several of the singers I loved: Sarah, the Dixie Chicks, Sheryl Crow…of course, I did have to suffer through the Indigo Girls, but it was worth it.

[Yeah, I hate the Indigo Girls. Deal with it.]

It was a great day, a great concert, and a great experience, getting to see an entire venue packed with all variety of concertgoers from all ethnicities, genders, religions, sexualities, socioeconomic status, etc., gathered together by a commonly shared love of really awesome music. I’ve heard lots of disparaging comments about Lilith Fair throughout the years, especially when it was at its most popular, but you know what? It was epic in many ways, least of which in how it was able to bring together so many disparate people without conflict, at least for the duration of the day of performances.

Another thing that was great about that 1999 event? I won this:

This is a Takamine electric acoustic guitar, black finish with mother-of-pearl trim. It was supposedly played by Sarah McLachlan at one of the Lilith Fair stops. She then signed the guitar, as you can see in the photo, and donated it to some upstart Dot Com whose name I can’t even remember now, as one of the prizes for their “Sweet Sounds of Summer” contest (yes, I can remember the name of the contest, but I can’t remember the name of the company).

Honestly? I entered the contest because I wanted a signed copy of Sheryl Crow’s newest CD. I had no delusions of actually winning anything, however, let alone the first prize. I feel a little guilty that this beautiful guitar is stuck with unmusical me, sitting in its pretty case for the past decade…brought out only when people want to see it or when I want to photograph it for geeky reasons. Then again, would a musically inclined person actually play this guitar if they owned it? I think not. So I don’t feel that guilty. Plus, one day this puppy is going to be worth a fortune, and I’m going to sell it and buy Rhode Island and turn it into my own geek Utopia. And I shall rule with fairness and geekiness. And Beverly Crusher will be our queen.

…

Fast forward 11 years to the summer of 2010. McLachlan’s first new studio album release in seven years, Laws of Illusion, came out in June of this year. She was coming out of a divorce, primed with new music, and ready to jump back into the musical deep…so what better way than to revive Lilith Fair?

To be honest, the 2010 Lilith Fair was a pale comparison to its earlier iterations. The list of names was much shorter, several of the “big names” dropped out for various reasons, and in the end, ticket sales were poor enough that several of the scheduled events were canceled.

That being said, we went to the D.C. Lilith Fair this past Tuesday, and it was a mostly enjoyable time. The heat made everything a little wilty, but it’s been that way all summer, so nothing we haven’t been dealing with already. I did feel a little over-saturated by all the marketing this time: Chevrolet wanted me to win one of their cars, and Luna wanted to give me their super-sweet energy bars, and Degree wanted me to wear their deodorant and their body mist, and Style magazine wanted me to know how much they love Lilith Fair, and prophets know I now have enough free feminine care products to carry me through to menopause.

Then there was the line-up. You know the adage, “If it’s too loud, you’re too old”? I think that could also be changed to “If it’s too unknown, you’re too old.” I barely knew any of the secondary stage acts. Corrin who? Missy what? Nneka? Butterfly? Is that really your name?

[Okay, I actually did know who Butterfly Boucher was, but that’s because she toured with McLachlan back in 2005. She’s pretty cool and I really like saying her name. Butterfly Boucher (prononuced like “Bau-ch?r”). Say it. Out loud. NOW.]

I guess that’s the point, though: to introduce us to these new and rising singers, and several were very enjoyable…but a lot of them started to sound alike after a while. And that was when I knew I was too old. That and when I caught myself saying of Ke$ha, “I’m actually okay with her not being at this Lilith Fair. She looks like you’d need a dose of penicillin after seeing her in concert.”

Ouch.

Of course, the main stage was the big draw of the day anyway. And “Big Girl” employment means no more lawn seats. We traded in our soggy sneakers and picnic blankets for six rows away from the stage. Mmm. Favorite non-Sarah act? The Court Yard Hounds, which is basically the Dixie Chicks minus Natalie Maines. Sisters Emily Robison and Martie Maguire decided that they were ready to go back to recording, but Maines was still enjoying her time out of the limelight. So the sisters formed the Court Yard Hounds, with the promise of returning to the Dixie Chicks once Maines is ready to go.

I’ve always loved Emily and Martie. Last time I saw the Dixie Chicks in concert, I wrote this of their instrumental prowess:

Emily is to a banjo like Hendrix lighting guitars and Martie could beat the Devil and Johnny both down in Georgia any time on her fiddle.

That’s one of the reasons I did love country music for so long: I love the bluegrassy frenzy of banjo and fiddle. I can’t explain it. I just like it. Plus, look at how country awesome they look!

Needless to say, their performance at Lilith Fair convinced me to buy their CD, so apparently I am quite susceptible to marketing. And my love of country music is apparently returning.

Oh, and of course, McLachlan was delightful as the final act to what had become the final stop of Lilith Fair 2010 (thanks to those unfortunate cancellations I previously mentioned). She seemed hopeful that Lilith Fair would return for another go next summer. I don’t know if that’s actually in the cards or if it was just wishful hoping, but I’m glad I had the chance to visit once more with Lilith and rekindle some happy memories from my college days.

Bunneh!

~ lobablanca

Kind of swamped at work, and I’ve been doing fun things away from work (things that I may or may not discuss here at a later time…). Thus are my excuses for any dip in appearances here at the lair.

Mea culpa, denizens.

Here, then, is a photo apology. Here is…BUNNEH. I snapped a shot of this little guy during my Father’s Day visit to North Carolina (yes, it’s been a while…I’m quite behind in posting photos here as well, but hope to resolve this soon with some very exciting photos taken during a recent away team mission).

I think my favorite thing about this photo isn’t even part of the actual image. Instead, it’s the memory of my dad yelling to me as I stalked Bunneh with my telephoto lens, “I think there’s something wrong with that rabbit. He should have run away by now. Why is he just sitting there? Is he frothing? You know, there have been several cases of rabies reported recently in this state. You might not want to get any closer!”

I wanted so desperately to make a Holy Grail Killer Bunny comment at this point in his monologue, but sadly, my dad has never seen the movie.

“Run away! Run away! Run away!”

It's just a harmless little bunny, innit?