Ginger's follies, foibles and fixations.
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| You Listen to Me, Mr. Kick-Ass Ginger's follies, foibles and fixations. |
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Thursday, September 11, 2003 MOB 8: The Hijacking with apologies to all actual hijacking victims, on this or any other day. Burger Flash: Here's an article that my swell office-mate Sally found about a MOB in New Zealand. I find it amusing that it would have been a fairly effective protest against meat/corporate power/bad-eating-habits/frankenfoods (etc.) if they had wanted it to be, but instead it had the organizers apologizing and encouraging people to go back and buy food from one of the worst examples of corporate fast-food behemoths this side of, well, Mickey D's. *Guffaw* Those fuckers probably didn't even make all that food, they just said so to get sympathetic press. It just proves, once again, that planning them flashmobs ain't as easy as it looks, kids! Thus, the eighth and final MOB, courtesy of NYC's own Mob Project, was held last night. Pint of Sierra Nevada Flagrantly violating the "rules" once again, Mike, Fred, one of Mike's friends (my problem remembering names was really bad this night) and I met up at the Bull Moose Saloon, despite the fact that none of us were born in one of the appropriate months. As we sipped our beers, the bar rapidly filled up. Sometime after 7:15pm, the same bespectacled blonde guy ("Jonathan") who has handed out the MOB instructions for three of the five MOBs I attended came in and every grabby hand in the bar immediately surrounded him--he couldn't pass those little slips out fast enough. Upon reading the instructions (which are faithfully reprinted at Fred's Journal), we were surprised to see that the MOB site was quite a bit farther from the gathering places than usual. Might this be a deliberate misdirect for those (read: The Authorities) who might guess we'd be hitting (metaphorically) nearby Port Authority and thus step up their security, perhaps? Or maybe just a way to link the MOB site and the after-party? In any case, we hightailed it out of there and hoofed over to 42nd and 6th. Inexplicable...or Just Confusing? Mike wondered which subway station we were supposed to gather by (since there were two at the stated location, one on either side of the street), but by the time we got there it was moot. In defiance of the instruction to "stall nearby," a pretty sizable crowd had gathered a minute or two early. As we assembled, trying to figure out who or what the "performer" would be, a guy who looked like he walked straight off a page of A Field Guide to the Urban Hipster [there's your plug, Matthew ;)] turned on a small boom box (Fred has a photo) which had been placed on a ledge at the far west of the crowd. "Whoo-hooo!" the mysterious hipster (okay, I guess it's no secret that it was "Bill") yelled, pumping his fist in the air. There was clearly sound coming out of the boom box, but the sound coming out was unclear. As the surrounding crowd began whooping and applauding, all hopes of hearing the boom box's words of wisdom (or kickin' beats) were dashed. "Bill" later admitted he had thought that one of PC Richard's finest offerings would have pumped out enough volume for a MOB crowd to hear (apparently "Bill" has never tried to stage a children's play in a public park, but I digress). The result was that the mass of excitable MOBsters ended up standing around randomly applauding and cheering, and trying desperately to come up with something to applaud and cheer for. Enter the Hijacker Whether he came to the MOB intending to become its focus, grabbed the opportunity when it arose, or was just a passer-by caught up in the action, the mystery of the jewel-toned, beret-clad interloper may be revealed someday. At the time, nobody knew whether he was "officially" part of the MOB or not, but he was certainly more visible and more absurd than anything else around. The crowd thusly decided that he was the performer, and so let him lead them to, well, not much of anything. With hundreds of eager MOBsters watching his every move, the hijacker didn't seem too prepared to use his newfound power for good or ill--which sort of supports my favorite (likely wrong) theory that he was just a spectator that became the MOB focus entirely by accident. Rather than deliberately trying to make the crowd do things (which is, apparently, what the boom box was failing to do), the hijacker simply basked in the attention and showed off his nonsensical neon-suitcase contraption. He stood and looked around; the crowd cheered and applauded. He held up his fingers in a peace sign, which was imitated enthusiastically by the MOB. Portions of the MOB chanted "Peace, Peace!" Yeah, whatever. Around the same time, parts of the crowd chanted "Mob mob!" but I don't think it was because some people thought the hijacker was a disruption--as Fred theorizes--but because it was the only part of the instructions the crowd hadn't done yet. It seems the MOB crowd can't manage to leave any possible bit of vocalizing go un-uttered. [Tangent: which is something that has annoyed me about a couple of the MOBs. Some MOBsters seem to have a great need to chant and shout things. I appreciate the Mob Project's attempts to create sonic as well as visual 'installations,' but the vocal bits are never as interesting as they could be, because some bozo's always gotta be screaming "bird noise!" three minutes early. But anyway.] MOBs Don't Burn Out, They Just Fade Away The MOB had been going on for four minutes and I was growing bored and confused. I was pretty sure the boom box was "the performer" we were supposed to be watching (even before I knew it was "Bill" who was standing next to it), but obviously that was pointless. On one hand, a MOB hijacking was appropriate and inevitable, and kinda fun and surreal, but on the other the hijacker wasn't doing anything interesting whatsoever, so it all had an anticlimactic air. At precisely 7:46pm, nothing happened. The hijacker was still standing there, bathed in the flashbulb light of hundreds of cameras. I looked over at the boom box and a different twentyish hipster guy was gathering it up and doing sort of a "now scram" gesture to whoever happened to look at him. Which was pretty much nobody. Eager to get the hell out, I grabbed Fred with a "Let's go," and we dispersed. "What just happened?" I asked him, as we walked to the corner. Having previous obligations at home, Fred hopped into a cab (probably thrilled to be able to put up one of his lightning-fast post-MOB posts). Not seeing Mike in the rapidly melting crowd, and having had to pee since 7:36pm, I left and made a pit stop back at the Bull Moose before heading to the after-party. Cold Rolling Rock in a Can The party was a really nice and appropriate little gathering. The overall happiness and goodwill that MOBs (however successful) tend to generate was in abundance. Friendly faces and handshakes were all around. Apparently there was something called a "Bush Box" there--sort of an interactive, GWB-based multimedia art installation--but I missed it entirely. I spent most of the time in the courtyard, so didn't get much of a look at the party/art/performance space inside. A number of people there seemed to be friendly with Mike, who was kind enough to introduce me around. I was quite pleased to meet the 'cook' behind Moist & Tasty (her photos are up now), one of the NYC MOB Photologgers. I met several other nice folks whose names I've entirely forgotten. A key moment was, of course, getting to meet trucker-capped "Bill" who was just chatty and friendly as all get-out, and nonplussed that the MOB was hijacked. He did express some regret that the boombox thing didn't work out, but you can only control the MOB so much - he seemed pleased with the randomness in which the MOB can manifest. The consensus seemed to be that, despite some differences of opinion and philosophy, the MOB Project was a darn fun summer diversion. It was also nice to get the inside scoop from "Bill" on what MOB 3's "Grand Central Ballet" was supposed to be, and what those MOB-altered dollars were for. Of course, the (presumably unaltered) $2 we were asked to bring to this MOB were a donation to help pay for the after-party space. Mike and I shared a C train back to our 'hood, and it had to be the noisiest frickin' train car I've ever ridden--we were screaming at each other like we were at a downtown bar. Anyway, it was a good night and a fitting (if somewhat disappointing) end to the summer MOBs. I expect I will miss them a little, if only because I don't know if I'll have a good enough excuse to see any of these fine people again. A Summer Wrap-Up: It's MOB-tastic! a history of the MOB, as told in this here web-log... MOB Rulz! a report on MOB 3, in which I suspect that cops will ruin it for everybody Clarification: in which I try to avoid landing on some secret, Patriot Act blacklist by stating that I don't, actually, hate ALL cops. ...though some may feel otherwise. MOB 4: in which it is reported that I'll be out of town. Weekend Wrapup: which has nothing to do with MOBs actually, but is the first post of this blog in which teen nerd-hero Shia LaBeouf is mentioned, and it will not be the last. He's brilliant. MOB 4: in which I carp about "improper dispersal" (a quote which later appeared, uncredited, in Time Out New York) at a MOB I didn't manage to attend. MOB 5: A Cute Dog, but no Bingo: in which MOB 5 at Central Park is described in exhausting detail, and a report on my first and only game of Hipster Bingo. The Voice of a MOB Generation: in which I fret over an impending radio interview. Better, Faster, More! in which I make fun of the first of many stupid Mob ideas. dag, yo: in which the aforementioned radio interview is cancelled. Speak Up, Sistas: in which I lament the apparent lack of female voices in MOB-related press. MOB "R" We: a quick post-MOB 6 entry in which I accuse Fred of teleportation. The Most Photographed Dinosaur in America. Today.: a typically epic description of MOB 6. Includes the one and only MOB photograph posted to this blog. Whatchoo Talkin' Bout?: in which I announce my upcoming appearance on MSNBC's "Countdown with Keith Olbermann." With Gary Coleman. Flash Fame: in which I reflect on the surreality of being a MOB spokesmodel. Seattle: August 17 in which word is spread about a proposed "Flash Mop." Something to Hold you Over: a bit of a retrospective, in which I posit that the MOB is in decline. Flashlight Mob: From the comfort of Seattle, a reaction to the NYC Blackout. MOB 7: in which you are directed to other people's blogs. No Cutting! an uncharacteristically concise report on the St. Pat's MOB. Flashlight MOB, part II: a joke on Bloggers and Mobs from the ever-reliable Defective Yeti. Love Stinks, Yeah Yeah: born from the suspicion that someone is either trying to sell their webcam software or just has a dumb, vaguely mob-ish, idea. Like, You Know: reveals a link to the verbatim transcript of my 'Countdown' interview. Meanwhile...: a brief post-MOB 8 report. ...and now you're here! Other MOB News You Can Use: Fred's Journal cheesebikini? Glowlab The Official Record Only in New York Terminus Too Many Thoughts Strange Radiation Update: Here's a Wired article about MOB 8. MOB Views That Can't Lose: Satan's Laundromat Moist & Tasty Believe it or not, a lot of the above web/photo-loggers also address a number of topics that are not MOB-related. If you like their MOB coverage, chances are good that you'll like their other thoughts as well - so put 'em in your favorites. What else are you gonna do at work? Work? Pfft. Work is for pussies. Permalink to this entry posted by Ginger | 11:57 PM My Late-Summer Vacation Soundtrack I picked up all these albums between August 9 and 25th, and have listened to pretty much nothing else (except NPR) since: Head of Femur: Ringodom or Proctor When I woke up that morning, things had really changed. I hung my head in shame, walked out the door. Bongwater: Too Much Sleep It started at church or in girl scouts or basketball-- Teitur: Poetry & Aeroplanes I'm tired of postcards, especially the ones with cute dogs and cupids Hanson: Underneath Acoustic EP Don't you want some truth/'cause I'll give you mine LeTigre: LeTigre I wanna spread my dementia/i wanna knock it off the line posted by Ginger | 6:19 PM Remembrance Wil has a nice tribute on his site today. ****** Meanwhile... Sorry I have no MOB 8 update at the moment, since I left my computer at work last night and I am swamped with work today. This means my status as one of the go-to moblogs is severely compromised but WTF-ever. I'll direct you instead to the usual suspects: Fred Hoysted - I have a comment on there that explains some detail of my experience at the mob itself Satan's Laundromat Moist and Tasty - it's still MOB #7 up there, but she should get the new photos up soon. Glowlab cheesebikini? I did get to meet and chat for quite a while with the infamous "Bill," who I'm glad to say comes from an aesthetic and social perspective similar to what I had guessed - and I think I represented accurately in the MSNBC interview . He wandered the after-party, more than willing to stop and chat with the numerous mobsters for minutes on end -- and by all appearances is a friendly, sweet, smart guy who is nearly as baffled as anyone about the reach that this little summer project has had. Thanks, Bill! posted by Ginger | 12:02 PM Sunday, September 07, 2003 Toons When I was in high school and college, I made a point to go see the animation festivals that periodically came to Lincoln's only art-house space, the Mary Riepma Ross Film Theater, housed at the Sheldon Art Gallery (it has since moved to it's own gorgeous new space). In those days of the International Tournee of Animation and Spike and Mike's festivals, careers were born--one of the more successful being that of Mike Judge, spawned from his early "Beavis and Butt-Head" shorts. Now Mr. Judge is hosting his own festival with fellow animator Don Hertzfeldt of Bitter Films. Like the previous festivals, The Animation Show is a mixed bag--from arty and incomprehensible to beautiful but inert, from brutally hilarious to just plain boring. Like poetry, animation works mostly with evocative images rather than straight narrative storylines, and as such it lends itself to the extremes of the spectrum--in other words, really good, really bad, or really boring--and which 'toons are which depends a great deal on who you ask. The techincal quality (at least from what I can tell--I'm no expert) appears to be top-notch. The Animation Festival features an astonishing variety of techniques, from startlingly realistic computer animation to stick figures on paper. It's the stories they depict which didn't move me as much as I had hoped. The Polish computer-animated short "The Cathedral" showed just how far animators have come in simulating human weight and facial expressions, but it felt too much like a scene from an overwrought goth videogame. The acrylic paint impressionist design of "La Course À L'Abîme" was mesmerizing at first, but ultimately a bore. I can't decide between "Fifty Pecent Grey" and Hertzfeldt's own "Billy's Ballon" as my least favorite--both of which are clever, but the former is excessively greusome and the latter is both brutal and monotonous (though initially amusing). There were some gems that made it worth the $9.50, however. "Mars and Beyond" is an excerpt from a 1957 Disney film about the possibility of life on Mars. The narrator's benevolent, scholarly tone speculates on possible Martian life forms as lush, psychedelic creatures bloom in Technicolor glory. Another favorite was "The Rocks," a sweet, straightforward German piece which depicts the changing landscape of human history through the point of view of two rocks on a mountain. Bill Plympton's "Parking" delivers the goods as expected from this animation-festival vet. Hertzfeldt comes back with "The Rejected," the only true gut-buster (in every sense) of the entire show, which is a wonderful, fucked-up poke at commercial culture. If "My anus is bleeding!" becomes the hot new catchphrase, we'll have Hertzfeldt to thank. We also hear from Judge, barely, with a couple of (fairly pointless) early pencil-tests and the original "Office Space" short, on which the cult-classic film was based. It is hard to imagine the studio executive who saw that short and thought to him/herself "Eureka! This is a movie!" yet the resulting flick was amazingly faithful to the original! I'd recommend "The Animation Show" to anyone who loves the medium and is willing to sit through a few duds to see a couple of cool things. If you're looking for non-stop entertainment, lotsa laffs, or kiddie fun, forget it. And another thing...where the hell was Homestar Runner? posted by Ginger | 10:31 PM Dude, You Totally Rocked in Airborne Apropos to the previous post, Rachel and I saw Seth Green on 42nd Street just as we left American Splendor. We did not accost him. Bonus: Mr. Green's official website commits one of my biggest spelling pet peeves: it uses the word "roll" to mean a part for an actor in a play, film or other medium. I'm starting to see this everywhere and it makes me want to pull the skin off my face. I still think you're pretty funny, Seth, but please hire a proofreader. posted by Ginger | 9:31 PM |
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