OUR SONG (TM)

Finally, Ginandtacos.com has its own theme song. Actually it's had this song for about 20 years but didn't know it until recently.

We set high standards that heretofore precluded any possible theme song from meeting our approval.

We asked all contenders,

1. Is this song gin or taco related?

2. Is the song really, really gay?
3. Is the performer of indeterminate gender?
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4. Are a cape and glowing cane involved?

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Finally someone was able to answer "yes" to all four questions. Thank you, Taco Ockerse.

Wow. Need I even point out that s/he also has a tsekkitukka?

MONEY MONEY MONEY

(Warning: Contains cute photographs intended to cause sympathy)

I am an uncle. Those who know me well are aware of the fact that I can't go more than 15 minutes without talking about my sister's kids.
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Like me and many others in my family, one of them (John, currently 4 years old and about to start classes at a magnet preschool for baby geniuses) has multiple food allergies. Unlike the rest of us, John's are wide-ranging and quite severe.

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He is highly allergic to soy, wheat, gluten, peanuts, dairy, eggs, beef, strawberries, and other (more obscure) foods. It might be quicker to list what he can eat (hint: rice) than what he can't.

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John, Ed, and a rather large lizard

Even with a very carefully controlled diet eliminating any trace of these foods, John still has a lot of allergic reactions to what he eats. They manifest themselves in the form of skin problems. Despite daily full-body medical cream applications, most of his skin, at any given moment, is covered in hives, rashes, and hard, scaly skin. It has not been easy for him to gain weight (given the dairy and gluten allergies) or to deal with the skin irritation, but he hardly ever complains. A trooper, he is.

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"Hi. I am cute."

All of us – family, friends, etc – are participating in the Food Allergy and Anaphylaxis Network (FAAN) Walk for Food Allergies in Chicago on September 13. Our team is named "The Power Gloves" in reference to the socks that must be duct-taped to John's hands every night to prevent him from scratching himself into a bloody mess as he sleeps. Power Gloves give him super powers in the fight against allergies.

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I told you he was smart for his age

Please consider making a small donation to sponsor Team Power Gloves. FAAN is a great organization, responsible for a lot of important legislation aimed at those with food allergies (like those warnings on food labels like 'May contain traces of peanuts' or 'Prepared on equipment that also processes nuts'). I understand that many of you readers are as broke as this site's principals, but even $5 helps.

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"What? No donations?"

While I feel a bit like Sally Struthers in one of those "For the cost of a cup of coffee…." commercials, I have faith in Ginandtacos Nation.

The call is from heroism: won't you please accept the charges?

Ghouls come out at night.

I'll leave it for you to judge: Is this too horrible to turn away from?

Too endearing not to be moved by?

Too interesting to not stop reading?

My Death Space, a complete directory of people who have died on myspace and now have memorial webpages (you can see the list of recent updates too).

I've been told by avid watchers that you can try and predict deaths over time – following the 4th holiday there's been a death due to firework injuries. Evidently a lot of teenagers are dying from auto accidents, and people who commit suicide (or die from suicidal-ish drug overdoses) have extensive web presences.

Hmm…please help reset my moral compass to Absolute North by leaving a comment as to whether or not this is awful and ghoulish.

AMERICA – FUCK YEAH

As a small percentage of you may be aware, I was on vacation for the previous two weeks. I drove (using a not-even-close-to-direct route with as many side-trips and diversions as possible) to Glacier National Park in Montana. In 14 days, I:

  • Drove 6113 miles. In a rented vehicle. That's right, Budget Rent-a-Car. I said "Suck it."
  • Did not sleep indoors. And let's not talk about how much I bathed. It's best left unsaid.
  • Lost 5 of the 20 pounds I gained this semester while studying for exams.

  • Used the elderly to shield myself from curious grizzly bears. If your childhood Brookfield Zoo experiences are hazy, let me be emphatic: grizzly bears are fucking enormous. They look like minivans with fur.

    I am not ashamed of having diverted said bears' attention to old people.

  • Killed at least one animal from every phylum, including about 30% of the nation's insect population. To wit:

    bird.JPG
    That bird had to go. Yeah, that bird died. I killed that bird.

  • Took several hundred pictures. The essence of some natural features can't be captured with a camera.
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    Others can.

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    Not pictured: humanity

  • Passed through Manly, IA and Cooter, MO. And some small town in North Dakota with an enormous 10 Commandments tablet as a "welcome" sign. Ever notice how you only see that kind of stuff in the most depressing, decrepit, run-down backwaters in the country? Yeah, me too.
  • Became one with a colony of prarie dogs, earning their trust through an hour of careful approaching…..only to have some jackass woman come barging out of her Ford Expedition with a handful of Wonder Bread, whistling and yelling for them to "do tricks." Of course they all immediately disappeared. I wanted to stab her. Such desires usually fade, but in this case I find myself wishing I had done so more and more as time passes.
  • Received a speeding ticket on an Indian Reservation for going 34 in a 25. It was all I could do to refrain from saying "This is complete bullshit, but I guess we have it comin'."
  • Received a speeding ticket in Hutchinson, KS for 75 in a 65. Refrained from saying "Hell, I was doing 90 a minute ago. I slowed down to 75 because I was reading a guide book."
  • Drove across the entirety of 12 states and portions of 4 others. American politics make sense after doing so. America is not Chicago or the pretty college town in which you currently live. No, America is fat white women with black eyes, hundred-mile stretches of vacant land, the smell of Busch Beer wafting from ramshackle houses, towns with no library (but 3 Baptist churches and 5 bars), and mulleted retards driving pre-fuel injection Ford trucks.

    All in all, I learned a few things about this land. It is beautiful and it is ugly. It is depressing and it is encouraging. It is rewarding and it is frustrating. Part of me finds America and its people deeply inspirational, yet that part must constantly fend off the desire to see a massive comet hit the Earth and end humanity as we know it. It's such a promising country. If only it were full of people who aren't proud of how stupid they are – people who aren't trying to replicate the foundational sociopolitical ideas of the Dark Ages.

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    In short, it's a great country as long as you don't have to talk to most of the people who live in it.

  • MAKING UP SO MUCH LOONY SHIT MUST BE REALLY HARD

    Ann Coulter's job might seem easy – wake up, dress like a cocktail waitress at a Reno truck stop, and say the most inflammatory and ridiculous things that come to mind. Liberals hate America! Gays are evil! You're gay! Boom – check falls in her lap.

    Well apparently it isn't quite as easy as it seems. It's so hard to come up with fresh lunacy that Ms.

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    Coulter has had to glean some of it from those who have gone before her. Which is a polite way of saying she plagiarizes. A lot.

    According to noted liberal bastion the New York Post, new plagiarism-detection software has been used to analyze Coulter's latest book and years of her syndicated columns. The searches turned up numerous examples of direct word-for-word plagiarism (often from newspaper editorials by other authors who are not attributed) in many of her writings.
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    Whoops.

    As an instructor at the University level, I have long since been aware of the wonders and glories of plagiarism tools such as Turn it In and the like. We don't even need to submit anything – the threat that we might do so is more than enough to dissuade 99.

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    8% of the students from plagiarising. The idea that such tools – invented to bust stupid, lazy college freshmen – are being turned against stupid, lazy right-wing media whores and war profiteers is really quite heart-warming.
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    God Bless America, and here's hoping that Ann's plagiarism lawsuits turn out very poorly for her.

    GET THAT CORN OUT OF MY FACE

    Nacho Libre is hilarious. I'm sorry, but it is. I know many of you are likely to be skeptical (when I first heard about this film getting green-lighted last year, I declared it to be the worst idea since Battlefield:Earth) but unless you hate Jack Black, I can't see this failing to amuse you.

    If fart jokes, pratfalls, physical comedy, ludicrous Wes Anderson-style costuming, and absurd dialogue ("Luchadores have it all – beautiful women, fancy clothes……various…creams and lotions") make you giggle, you will enjoy this film. It contains all those things in abundance.

    You also get to see a preview for Clerks II. It didn't make me start swearing in the theater.
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    Really.

    Not tolerating BS

    Hi all. I'm in graduate school all of a sudden, and up to my neck with statistical curves. I've meant to post this for a while, and since I have little to say that isn't going to be on a midterm next week, I feel better about just posting someone else's writings.

    Earlier this year the New Yorker did a profile of Bill O'Reilly, which was one of the funnier and snarkier things I've read this year (certainly from them). They refer to The Factor as being in a baroque period, and drop this one-liner: "Once, when Howard Stern was asked to explain his success, he said that he owed it to lesbians. O’Reilly owes his to child molesters."

    They explain a bit about O'Reilly's lesser known fiction from the late 90s. This was written right around the time that a lot of conservative's bizarre paperback fiction was coming to light, most notably Scooter Libby's novel that featured this line: "At age ten the madam put the child in a cage with a bear trained to couple with young girls…"

    Unlike some conservative talk-show hosts, O’Reilly hasn’t had a career in politics or government; he has never been based in Washington. Long Island notwithstanding, he really comes from a place called television news. After college, he taught high school in Florida, then got a degree in broadcast journalism and worked his way around the country’s media markets, starting as a consumer reporter in Scranton, Pennsylvania. In the early eighties, he landed at CBS News, as a correspondent for the “Evening News.” It should have been his big break, but it didn’t work out. Although he had a happier time at another network, ABC, before joining the syndicated show “Inside Edition,” in 1989, and then Fox, the CBS episode has stayed with him. It hurt—it still hurts. No matter how big a star he becomes, he’s eternally the guy who was banished from the charmed circle.

    O’Reilly’s account of what went wrong at CBS has him, as always, pissing off powerful people because he won’t play their phony games. The key moment seems to have come when, during the Falkland Islands War, O’Reilly and his crew got some exclusive footage of a riot in the streets of Buenos Aires and it wound up being incorporated into a report from the veteran correspondent Bob Schieffer, which failed to mention O’Reilly’s contribution. O’Reilly was furious, and after that, by his account, he was in career Siberia at CBS. During this period of forced inaction, he later wrote, “on a visit to Cape Cod, Massachusetts, I stumbled upon an amazing story. The tiny fishing village of Provincetown had become a gay mecca!” O’Reilly took a cameraman there and did a piece on the dangers this posed to local kids, but the network wouldn’t air it. Not long after that, he left.

    In 1998, after the launch of “The O’Reilly Factor,” but before superstardom, he published a thriller called “Those Who Trespass,” which is his most ambitious and deeply felt piece of writing.

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    “Those Who Trespass” is a revenge fantasy, and it displays extraordinarily violent impulses. A tall, b.s.-intolerant television journalist named Shannon Michaels, the “product of two Celtic parents,” is pushed out by Global News Network after an incident during the Falkland Islands War, and then by a local station, and he systematically murders the people who ruined his career. He starts with Ron Costello, the veteran correspondent who stole his Falkland story:

    "The assailant’s right hand, now holding the oval base of the spoon, rocketed upward, jamming the stainless stem through the roof of Ron Costello’s mouth. The soft tissue gave way quickly and the steel penetrated the correspondent’s brain stem. Ron Costello was clinically dead in four seconds. "

    Michaels stalks the woman who forced his resignation from the network and throws her off a balcony. He next murders a television research consultant who had advised the local station to dismiss him: he buries the guy in beach sand up to his neck and lets him slowly drown. Finally, during a break in the Radio and Television News Directors Association convention, he slits the throat of the station manager. O’Reilly describes each of these killings—the careful planning, the suffering of the victim, the act itself—in loving detail.

    In the novel, O’Reilly splits his alter ego in two, by creating a second tall, b.s.-intolerant Irish-American, a New York City homicide detective named Tommy O’Malley. O’Malley is charged with solving the murders that Michaels has committed, while competing with Michaels for the heart of Ashley Van Buren, a blond, busty aristocrat turned b.s.-intolerant crime columnist. Michaels, a possibly once good man driven mad by broadcast journalism, tells Ashley, “Journalism, as you know, is a profession that requires its participants to be aggressive, skeptical, and persistent in pursuit of the truth. Yet, the moment you enter your own newsroom, you’ve got to drop all that. The managers want total conformity. They want you to play the game, to do what you’re told to do.

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    ” And, later, “It’s a self-obsessed business.
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    ‘How are things going to impact on me? Is this person my friend or my enemy?
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    I’ll get him before he gets me.’ That kind of thing. It’s a brutal way to live.” Again and again, O’Reilly’s characters remind us that on-air broadcasters are among the most powerful and glamorous people in America, and so the stakes in television newsroom politics could not be higher.

    Tommy O’Malley, too, has a lot of ambition and rage, but he channels it into bringing bad guys (not just Michaels but a collection of urban ethnic street punks out of the old “Dirty Harry” or “Death Wish” movies) to justice. Michaels, though rejected by the suits, the swells, and the phonies, is not entirely immune to their values. He lives in a mansion, eats filet mignon, dresses stylishly, and can’t dismiss the A-listers from his consciousness. He is drawn to places like Malibu, Martha’s Vineyard, and the Upper West Side, partly to carry out his murders and partly because a kind of psychological undertow pulls him there. O’Malley seems not to know that they exist; he is broke and not stylish. He is morally redeemed by the police mission, just as Michaels is morally damned by television.

    Capes

    1) The last time Bryan Singer directed Kevin Spacey as a criminal mastermind, the movie was The Usual Suspects.

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    I've often asked myself (as I'm sure you have as well) "What it would it be like if Keyser Soze had access to Kryptonite?
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    " I'll be finding out tonight…

    Go Lex go!

    2) I'm seeing Superman Returns just a few weeks after seeing the quite awful X3. I glanced at my watch an hour into the movie, and told my party "we've only been here one hour" – a statement nobody believed. They all felt that the movie was approaching the third hour.

    I would recommend seeing X3 only to see the trailers that came on beforehand.

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    Regardless of X3's worth, the trailers for the movie were the largest gathering of bad trailers I've never seen. Remember the Awesomo episode of South Park where Cartman keeps making up Adam Sandler movies? That's all I can think of when I see the trailers for Click. There was Little Man and Fast and the Furious Part 3: Tokyo Drift. But the movie that takes the cake was Ghost Rider.

    Nicholas Cage plays a stunt motorcycle driver who is possessed by a demon. Or something. At night his head and the wheels of the motorcycle burst into flames and he fights evil. He has a shotgun that shoots fireballs as well. It's something to behold. I really like the idea that somewhere, the producer pulled aside the director and they had this exchange:

    Producer: "Listen, if only Ghost Rider's front wheel is on fire, and we leave the back wheel flameless, we can save about 100 grand and get the movie out early."
    Director: "I will not compromise the artistic integrity of this project. Ghost Rider's motorcycle is on fire, or I walk from the project.
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    "

    LOYALTY PURCHASES

    Hi. I'm in Montana. I have been for quite some time and I will be until July.

    I don't particularly smell good and I don't figure to have interweb access much beyond the occasional wired truck stop (this terminal is located directly behind a rack of – I shit you not – Larry the Cable Guy merchandise).

    Given that there are technically three people who post on this page, I didn't figure that my going on vacation would mean two-plus weeks without updates.

    I was incorrect. For those of you who still bother reading despite the lack of updates, thank you.

    This morning, whilst driving across something called "Going to the Sun Road" I listened to the most recent Nine Inch Nails album With Teeth for one of the first times since I reviewed it (Check the music section for a refresher. Hint: it blows). Now, when driving for approximately 5500 miles round trip, one tends to exhaust an entire music collection pretty quickly – both the wheat and the chaff.
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    But it struck me as particularly obvious while listening to my ol' buddy Trent's latest work – I purchased this entirely out of loyalty. When he puts out another album, I will purchase it again out of loyalty and habit. It will not be good. It will rot on my CD rack, but it will crucially keep intact the completeness of my collection (although I'm quitting at "Halo 100" no matter what).
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    Am I the only person who does this? Please say I'm not. It will make me feel better. Besides, I know a lot of you went to see the 3rd Star Wars prequel. Don't tell me you went because you thought it would rule. What compels people to continue supporting burnt out franchises? I always knew I had a completist/collector mentality towards things, but listening to this disc is making me wonder if I've taken it too far.

    HOW TO GET FIRED IN PUBLISHING

    1. Identify an author with no previous writing experience whom you assume will appeal to a particular buying demographic.

    2. Make sure that said novice author does not actually appeal to that demographic (or, alternatively, that the demographic simply doesn't exist).

    3. Give author a seven-figure advance.

    4. Sell fewer copies of the book than one can fit in the trunk of a 1992 Geo Storm.

    5. Clean out desk.

    mc.jpg
    She has more in common with Phillipe Petain than just the haircut

    I'm not really sure why the folks at Threshold (a Simon and Schuster company) thought that a Mary Cheney biography would appeal to gay consumers. It's sort of like expecting a book about Vichy France to go over well with the French. Now my finger may not be perfectly on the pulse of the gay community, but I'm fairly certain they weren't beating down the door to hear the story of the spineless, closeted, apologist daughter of the Bush administration's architect.

    The sales figures back me up. Nielsen Bookscan says: about 5500 copies in four weeks (barely 2500 in its release week). And here's the kicker. They paid her $1 million up front to share her amazing tale of equivocation. That's $181 for every book sold thus far.

    Ouch. This book makes the Edsel look like a rampant success.

    As the sales have tapered off (less than 600 last week) and will hit rock bottom pretty soon, we can't expect Simon & Schuster's investment to look any better as time goes on. Young publishing magnates take note – such catastrophes can be avoided in the future by asking simple questions like "Am I being unrealistic about this project's sales potential?" and "Is this the dumbest fucking idea in the history of mankind?"

    If you answer either question affirmatively, maybe it's best to pass.