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The surrealism of everyday life


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6 hours ago, Sneakeater said:

A friend of mine -- a contemporary -- told me of her cousin, who resembles her so strongly that they're often confused. 

There's an easy way to tell them apart. Just offer them a hot dog and see which one loses control. 

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We have threads for annoyances and what made us cheerful, but then there's those weird things that happen.....   My workplace is particularly fertile ground for the surreal. 2 current examples:

Yeah, me too.   As soon as I'm a real member, I'll upload a real avatar.   Or did you mean my sig?

You talkin' to me?

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Husband wanted to move a loaded storage unit a foot along a wall in the basement,    He tried shouldering it but it wouldn't budge.    So he gets out a 10' long 2x4 and places it perpendicular to the unit's sidewall, bracing it against the walll.    Then inserts a 6"x6"x8" block of wood between the board and the unit..    Gets on his hands and knees on the inside of the far end of the 2x4, pulls on the end of the 2x4.  The unit creaks and moves about 6 inches.   One more tug and the unit is in its desired position.   Putting away his impromptu lever and fulcrum, he grinned and said, "Farm boys know how to get things done."

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Getting an Amazon package yesterday and finding that it contained possibly the oddest work holiday present I've ever gotten: a 30-piece precision screwdriver bit set, for repairing smartphones, laptops, etc.  The head of our division is a Naval Academy graduate, so maybe that explains it.

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I love my tech screwdriver etc sets - replaced a battery in a tablet, opened up my desktop computer for cleaning when I still had one, and need it periodically to repair a z-chair that comes undone.

A girl can never have too many tools....

 

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ablo Honey [Capitol, 1993]
"Creep" Choice Cuts

The Bends [Capitol, 1995]
Admired by Britcrits, who can't tell whether they're "pop" or "rock," and their record company, which pushed (and shoved) this follow-up until it went gold Stateside, they try to prove "Creep" wasn't a one-shot by pretending that it wasn't a joke. Not that there's anything deeply phony about Thom Yorke's angst--it's just a social given, a mindset that comes as naturally to a '90s guy as the skilled guitar noises that frame it. Thus the words achieve precisely the same pitch of aesthetic necessity as the music, which is none at all. C

OK Computer [Capitol, 1997]
My favorite Pink Floyd album has always been Wish You Were Here, and you know why? It has soul, that's why--it's Roger Waters's lament for Syd, not my idea of a tragic hero but as long as he's Roger's that doesn't matter. Radiohead wouldn't know a tragic hero if they were cramming for their A levels, and their idea of soul is Bono, who they imitate further at the risk of looking even more ridiculous than they already do. So instead they pickle Thom Yorke's vocals in enough electronic marginal distinction to feed a coal town for a month. Their art-rock has much better sound effects than the Floyd snoozefest Dark Side of the Moon. But it's less sweeping and just as arid. B-

Kid A [Capitol, 2000]
I guess the fools who ceded these bummed-out Brits U2's world's-greatest-rock-band slot actually did care about what bigger fool Thom Yorke had to say as well as how he made it sound. Why else the controversy over this bag of sonics? Me, I'm so relieved Yorke's doing without lyrics. Presaging too damn much but no more a death knell for song than OK Computer was for organic life, this is an imaginative, imitative variation on a pop staple: sadness made pretty. Alienated masterpiece nothing--it's dinner music. More claret? A-

Amnesiac [Capitol, 2001]
makes a lot more sense if you're already feeling down in the mouth ("Packt Like Sardines in a Crushd Tin Box," "Knives Out") ***

 

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Play [V2, 1999]
I doubt the hyperactive little imp sat down and "composed" here. There are no reports he even strove to unify à la DJ Shadow. And Endtroducing . . . is the reference point nevertheless. It's because Moby still loves song form that he elects to sample Alan Lomax field recordings rather than garage-sale instrumental and spoken-word LPs. But though the blues and gospel and more gospel testify not just for song but for body and spirit, they wouldn't shout anywhere near as loud and clear without the mastermind's ministrations--his grooves, his pacing, his textures, his harmonies, sometimes his tunes, and mostly his grooves, which honor not just dance music but the entire rock tradition it's part of. Although the futurist's dream of Blind Willie Johnson that opens this complete work was some kind of hit in England, here it'll be strictly for aesthetes. We've earned it. A+

Lolololololololololololol. 

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