7/4

Evil.

I compeletely disagree. But if that's the way you feel, go nuts. Your loss. ← I think we should vote akanalog off the island.

I thought it was great, maybe I still see it in theatres before it comes out on DVD. Big fan here. But I only saw Dead Man recently.

:eye:

Last night was Boston. ← Oops! You're right. I think the Braxton concert bumped me off my position in the space-time continuum. ← Not an unsusal side effect.

Last night was Boston.

November 6, 2005 And Sometimes, the Island Is Marooned on You By PAM BELLUCK, NYT ABOARD A ROWBOAT IN ISLAND POND, Mass. - The island of Island Pond had it in for Andrew Renna. Or so it seemed one Saturday evening a few weeks ago. In the middle of a pounding storm, Mr. Renna looked out across the pond, which borders his backyard. "It was raining crazy," he recalled. "I said, 'That wind's going to blow that thing right over here.' Ten minutes later it did. When it moves, it moves pretty quick." The island, about the size of a football field, made a beeline for Mr. Renna's house - crushing his three-foot chain-link fence, swamping his red-blue-and-purple flagstone patio, wrecking his dock, flooding his shed, hobbling his weeping willow, and drowning the oregano, cilantro, tomatoes and peppers in his garden. Then, with an insouciant shrug, it came to a standstill in Mr. Renna's backyard, an interloper squatting in stubborn silence. "Normally when it floats you can actually hear the roots rip - it sounds like ripping up carpet," said Mr. Renna, 51, a roofing and siding sales manager. "But this time, it didn't make any noise." Island Pond's island has been floating for as long as anyone can remember, buoyed by a mat of sphagnum moss and gases from decomposing plants. It is a curiosity and sometimes a nuisance for the 20 or so homes around the shoreline of this nine-acre pond in Springfield, Mass. Sometimes it boings mischievously around as if the pond were a pinball machine, sailing, for example, into Richard and Beverly Vears's backyard just hours after they moved in. That gave a neighbor a perfect welcome gag: telling the Vearses he was a tax collector who would charge them for the extra property. Locals, including city officials and the pond's owner, the Roman Catholic Diocese of Springfield, which runs the adjacent Cathedral High School, say the wandering island is a rarity that must not be tethered, altered or otherwise brought to heel. "There's only two in North America," said Stan Tenerowicz, environmental affairs administrator of the Springfield Conservation Commission. He said that 12 years ago, Cathedral High tied the island to shore to spare homeowners an unwelcome floating visitor, but the conservation commission ordered it unchained. "Tethering it would be a type of alteration of a wetlands system," Mr. Tenerowicz said. "And this is a pretty unique natural resource." It turns out, however, that the claim of "two in North America" is apocryphal, according to experts on floating islands. Such islands appear across the country and around the world - familiar enough that Minnesota issues removal permits to homeowners, and prevalent enough in some lakes in Florida that they are chopped up or pulverized by large machines with sharp blades. "People who live near a floating island always claim that it is the only one," said Chet Van Duzer, author of "Floating Islands: A Global Bibliography." Mr. Van Duzer estimates that there are dozens of floating islands, sometimes called floating bogs, in several states including California, Indiana, Maine and Ohio. Many others once floated but have since been destroyed or become land-locked, said Mr. Van Duzer, including ones on Lake Ontario in New York, Bolton Lake in Connecticut and Kettle Moraine Lake in Wisconsin. "Globally, they're not rare, and in this country they're not rare," said Stuart E. G. Findlay, a senior scientist at the Institute of Ecosystem Studies in Millbrook, N.Y. The islands usually form in wetlands, where plants take root in peaty soil or sphagnum moss in a shallow lake or riverbed, said Dave Walker, a senior project manager with the St. Johns River Water Management District in Florida, where, he said, "you can get acres and acres of floating islands on a lake." When the plants decompose, they release gases that can create buoyancy, he said. And if there is a surge in the water level, from a flood or hurricane for instance, the peaty mat can break away from the bottom and float. Mr. Walker said some islands could even be precipitated by "a large alligator burrowing" on a lake bottom. The islands, which can be as big as an acre and six inches to six feet thick, are rich environments for wildlife, allowing small creatures to outfloat predators. Many of the islands sprout trees, which act as sails; the 20-foot birches, alders and pines on the Island Pond island can ferry it across the entire pond in as little as 20 minutes, residents say. In some parts of the world, like Loktak Lake in India and Lake Kyoga in Uganda, people live or fish on floating islands, Mr. Van Duzer said. In Springfield, few people seem to venture onto the Island Pond island; some residents say they worry about falling through its spongy surface. But it teems with birds and amphibians, and there is even rumored to be a turtle the size of a bear, nicknamed Big Ben, that ostensibly feasts on ducks, geese and anything else it can snap up. The island is kleptomaniacal, scooping up baseballs and tennis balls from the high school on its banks, and it gives safe harbor to some marijuana plants that have blossomed into a sizable patch. Some experts believe that floating islands are becoming more common or lasting longer in some places, especially where human encroachment has created reservoirs or where fertilizer use has made certain plants grow faster. Others, like Wayne Mueller, an aquatic plant management specialist for the Minnesota Department of Natural Resources, said that so many more people lived around lakes these days that floating islands previously unnoticed were being spotted. While the islands can be pretty, "they are not benign," Mr. Walker said. "They can crash into a dock, they can block a canal entrance, they can uproot a lot of vegetation." In Minnesota, Mr. Mueller said, islands can become "aquatic footballs - people push it off their property and it becomes attached to another person's property." State officials will sometimes "stake down" a floating island with long pieces of wood, "pinning it to the bottom," Mr. Mueller said. Homeowners in Minnesota wanting to get rid of an island cannot use machines, he said, so they often spend hours using ice saws, axes or manure hooks to cut it up, then carting the soggy pieces away. In Florida, officials have tried pushing the islands with boats, roping them into corners and blocking their paths with wood pilings. And there is what might be called extreme island annihilation, done by the likes of a Florida company called Texas Aquatic Harvesting. Using 90-foot boats with large blades, the company carves up islands that "average the size of Yankee Stadium," said Mike Hulon, a project manager. He also uses boats that he calls "cookie cutters," which act like Cuisinarts on an island, "turning it into puree." In Lake Jackson, he said, "those islands were full of marsh rats and rabbits," and once, when the cookie cutter got going, "the alligators were in a feeding frenzy - they would have three or four rats and rabbits in their mouths at one time." Told about the kid-glove approach of the Island Pond denizens in Massachusetts, Mr. Hulon practically sneered. "Bunny huggers," he said. But many Island Pond residents feel affection for their itinerant island. Dan Blais tried to plant tomatoes on it and named a pair of geese who return to it each year Hansel and Gretel. "It's like walking on a waterbed," said Mr. Blais. "I love to see it moving around." Two weeks after the island plopped onto Mr. Renna's yard, Cathedral High School agreed to tow it to freedom, hoping to raise charitable donations to recoup the cost of $5,500. It commissioned CJ's Towing Unlimited, which towed the island in 2001, an undertaking that lasted 14 hours. This time, the process took five hours. CJ's used a truck that could pull 45 tons, two winches, a speedboat to stretch cable to the island, 55-gallon barrels to buoy the cable above the water and a team of burly men to attach the cable to trees on the island. With Craig Morel, CJ's owner, directing them through two-way radios, the crew members freed the island in half an hour, and it floated to the other side of the pond. There, it was temporarily tied to a stand of swamp maples, to be freed after officials lowered the water level in the storm-swollen pond. "It'll probably go back to somebody else's property," said John Miller, principal of Cathedral High. "Ultimately, it's going to float. It's a floating island. We don't want to violate its natural state. There's only two of them in North America."

Can you imagine if his name had been Beauregard Graham Bell? We'd be listening to a tritone dial tone. ← The Devil's dial tones.

Who's going? I think I'm going to make on Saturday.

Doesn't your job allow you to do that Ghostie? Come to think of it, it does. Only problem is that when I go home there are leaves to rake and grass to be cut, etc. That's when my inner Jughead comes out these days, I suppose. ← Ah, yah see...if I ever get a house again, there's gonna be a rock garden. Forget about lawns.

My bio page is 81% good.. Know about this book: Jesus Chris, Sun of God. It dips into gematria.

Something I should read.

So did John Cage. :eye:

Same here.

I'm with you... So f*cking what! ... ← Don't blame the news media solely for this one - George was not just coming out but also drumming up publicity for his show. People "come out" all the time and no one cares... but if you're a celebrity and do so in a magazine then you have to expect some press. ← Exactly. That seems to be the point.

I just got my first knock.

Have fun Greg!

Earthy? Cute!

Isn't there a chocolate factory in Brooklyn next to one of downtown bridges? I've certainly smelled that smell walking around town. It was sort of like strolling down the candy isle at the supermarket.

Rock group Cream takes final bow Glowing reviews for Clapton and band as they part ways Reuters Updated: 1:09 p.m. ET Oct. 28, 2005 NEW YORK - After reunion concerts packed with nostalgia and their signature gritty blues-rock, Eric Clapton and his pioneering British band Cream are parting ways again, their promoters said Thursday. Performances in New York and London were the last planned for the band that broke up in 1968 after turning obscure blues songs into Top 40 hits and transforming guitarist Clapton into a household name and rock ’n’ roll legend. “The band has no plans for the future,” said publicist Kristen Foster of KFPR. A few U.S. newspaper headlines poked fun at the aging trio after their final performance in New York on Wednesday night, one summing up their style as “geezer” rock. But the Madison Square Garden concert won generally glowing reviews. The band “dipped into the musical fountain of youth for a tight jam of blues-rock that thrilled the sold-out house,” said the New York Post. “Cream’s driving, powerful sound isn’t old, even though Clapton, the youngest of the three, turned 60 this year,” said The Washington Post, adding that the concert was “more than just a nostalgia trip.” There was plenty of nostalgia. White hair and loosened ties predominated in the arena, while onstage -- on what looked like a giant computer monitor -- the band’s signature psychedelic album artwork was updated on a digitized, kaleidoscopic screen saver. Some worried that age and health problems for the three musicians -- Jack Bruce, Ginger Baker and Clapton -- would turn the show into a psychedelic “doo-wop” revival. Modern Guitar Magazine’s Tom Guerra said, “Those fears were put to rest as soon as Cream took the stage.” Starting with their set with Delta bluesman Skip James’ ”I’m so Glad,” written in 1931, Cream packed their own greatest hits into the nearly two-hour set, a mix of songs they wrote, like “Sunshine of Your Love,” “Badge” and “White Room,” and played the blues standards they updated in the 1960s, like ”Crossroads” and “Rollin’ and Tumblin.” The group, known for onstage spats and sparring egos, surprised the rock world by announcing a series of shows this year in London and York. They were almost immediately sold out and tickets were being scalped for up to $4,000. “The underlying vibe was that a musical miracle was taking place,” said Dan Aquilante of the New York Post. But he added: ”Why, after all these years, the three have agreed to any reunion, even one as fleeting as this one, is unclear. You could guess it’s about the money or about reclaiming their place in rock history while all three men are alive.” The seven concerts -- the three this week in Madison Square Garden and four in London’s Royal Albert Hall last May -- could generate $100 million in tickets, record sales, videos and related products, industry experts say. While rock concerts proceeds aren’t what they used to be, older acts like Cream and the Rolling Stones continue to rake it in, since their fans have the funds to pay for $175 average tickets and $40 T-shirts.

Cream rises to the occasion October 26, 2005 BY JEFF JOHNSON Staff Reporter, Chicago Sun Times NEW YORK -- What took them so long? That question must have been on the minds of many in the crowd of about 24,000 who turned out Monday night at Madison Square Garden for Cream's first full-length U.S. show in 37 years. It must be painful, though, for the men of the British power trio to come face-to-face with the realization that nothing in their post-Cream repertoire, although occasionally brilliant, has ever approached what they created over a 28-month period ending in November 1968. The band had a rather slender body of work, with just four studio albums. Still, it left a giant shadow over rock music. Guitarist-vocalist Eric Clapton, bassist-vocalist Jack Bruce and drummer Ginger Baker -- the Cream of the crop, as their name boasted -- whipped up a strange brew of psychedelia, the blues, rock and improv jazz to create a sound that was totally fresh at the time. Their farewell album was called "Goodbye," and they stuck to it, with the sole exception of a set at the 1993 Rock and Roll Hall of Fame induction ceremony. CREAM'S SET LIST "I'm So Glad" "Spoonful" "Outside Woman Blues" "Pressed Rat and Warthog" "Tales of Brave Ulysses" "N.S.U." "Badge" "Politician" "Sweet Wine" "Rollin' and Tumblin' " "Stormy Monday" "Deserted Cities of the Heart" "Born Under a Bad Sign" "We're Going Wrong" "Crossroads" "Sittin' on Top of the World" "White Room" "Toad" "Sunshine of Your Love" (encore) But so long after the expiration date, how would Cream hold up? It was obvious from the sloppy presentation Monday night that their material has spent a long time in the deep freeze. Still, the songs stood the test of time. The band had reunited in May for five shows in London that became the "Royal Albert Hall" album and DVD, both released earlier this month. The set list from those shows basically was duplicated at the Garden, with a few additions, notably the trippy "Tales of Brave Ulysses," which Clapton announced, tongue in cheek, was "never before done onstage." The three Garden shows, which wrap up tonight, were added to the reunion to allow the lads to let down their hair in New York -- always their most enthusiastic U.S. fan base. They sold out immediately, with top-end tickets priced at $354.50. The legal scalpers were asking about 12 times face value online. A quick computation: The house is scaled to gross about $3.5 million per night. Cream no doubt would fetch similar prices in every major city -- a powerful incentive to take the revival on the road. They appeared fashionably late onstage, dressed for a night of jamming in the garage. The two-hour show had its ragged notes, with a false start by Baker on one number and a few times when they seemed to be playing at different tempos. With their penchant for acronyms in their song titles (such as the ultra-cool "N.S.U.," which they played, and "S.W.L.A.B.R.," apparently gone to psychedelic heaven), they should have avoided this one: "SNAFU." Clapton -- who has been reluctant to cut loose with guitar solos during his recent solo tours -- was like a prowling jungle beast with fresh meat in his jaws as he tore into lickety-split runs during the band's covers of T-Bone Walker's "Stormy Monday" and Robert Johnson's "Crossroads," done at the lilting gait of Clapton's recent "Me and Mr. Johnson" solo project. His vocals, though, were subdued, especially for "Outside Woman Blues," where he backed away from the mike as if overcome by shyness. The MVP of Cream always has been Bruce, and he was in great form Monday night, running up and down the fretboard and trading riffs with Old Slowhand as if his bass were a lead instrument, rather than a bottom-end foundation builder. His voice, perfect for singing rock 'n' roll, was alternately a bellowing foghorn for the boastful "Politician" and the foreboding "Deserted Cities of the Heart" and a siren sweetly singing for "Tales of Brave Ulysses." He displayed prowess on the harmonica, too, for Muddy Waters' "Rollin' and Tumblin,' " the veins bulging in his temples as he blew his heart out. The enigmatic Baker, whose visa troubles related to old drug and tax issues almost prevented the U.S. shows, is not the banger he once was, adding jazzy flourishes instead of his old thunder on numbers such as "Sweet Wine." And his one spoken-word vocal turn, on the curio "Pressed Rat and Warthog," was delivered haltingly and off kilter. His nine-minute signature drum solo for "Toad" was inventive, building on a few basic rhythmic themes as the crowd roared its approval. One of the greatest revelations onstage was how well the blues classics work alongside the group's self-penned hits such as "Sunshine of Your Love," "White Room" and "Badge." British poet Pete Brown, who supplied the lyrics for many Cream tunes, must have had the soul of the Delta blues poet. Cream's original material was driven by special effects such as fuzz tones, reverb and wah-wah pedals, which Clapton kept in the gym bag through most of the evening. He played the entire show unadorned on the Fender Stratocaster, which may have hamstrung the group from utilizing the full range of sounds from the '60s. These quibbles aside, this is a band that still has plenty to say. It would be welcome news indeed if Cream decides to polish its act after the Garden shows, write some new material and soldier on.

Long-awaited licks of Cream served up at MSG Tuesday, October 25th, 2005 Talk about your leisurely breaks. A staggering 37 years after Cream last set foot on American soil, the trio reunited Monday night for the first in a series of three shows at Madison Square Garden. Unsurprisingly, the reconstituted Cream served up last night wasn't quite the same brew that peaked in the '60s. Rarely did their riffs, leads or beats strike the unique dynamics and strategies of Cream's genius. Thankfully, they did mine other qualities in the music that proved stalwart and pleasing in their own right. At the Garden, fans got to hear a sleek and pruned version of the world's premiere power trio. In classics like their opener, "I'm So Glad," or "Born Under a Bad Sign," the players carefully navigated the melodies and offered thoughtful swipes at jams. Only a few times, however, did the group approach the spontaneity or abstraction that once made this act the cream of all jam bands. When the group formed in 1966, their fantastic notion was to treat blues-rock with the wild improvisation and dense soloing of free jazz - to mix John Mayall with Ornette Coleman. Toward that end, Eric Clapton, Jack Bruce and Ginger Baker used to play like they were trying to run each other off the stage. Bruce's bass solos in particular shoved and prodded Clapton's leads, until you weren't sure if the two were about to fight or embrace. It was a riot of sound, and a profound one at that. Just twice last night did the neo-Cream approach that kind of mania. In "N.S.U." and "Sweet Wine," the players teased and flirted with each others' licks to create a heady cascade of solos. Elsewhere, in "Stormy Monday" or "Sleepy Time," Clapton hit his peaks while the others held back. Even in these sections, the group found a power in the sexy grind of their blues riffs. Songs like "Badge" and "Tales of Brave Ulysses" had real swing. Other numbers lapsed into the tepid. The band played "Crossroads" at half the pace of old. They pulled their punches on "White Room," and "Toad" found Ginger Baker shuffling more than pounding. However, the excitement generated by the pure notion of Cream playing together again carried them through. And rarely did they fail to deliver at least a tasteful performance. But for a group that staked its legend on pushing rock's boundaries, it's too bad their comeback didn't foster a greater sense of adventure.

Cream rises to occasion By Joan Anderman, BostonGlobe Staff | October 26, 2005 NEW YORK -- It is the mother of all reunions. Cream -- the original supergroup, seminal power trio, and egomaniacal virtuosos who in a mere two years laid the foundation for heavy rock, jam bands, and celebrity feuds -- is back together for at least a few fleeting moments. Ironically, there was little heaviness, jamming, or feuding Monday night at Madison Square Garden during the opening show of Cream's three-night stand here -- the only concerts the band has scheduled in the United States. The only nod to psychedelia was an oozing rainbow backsplash, against which drummer Ginger Baker sat ramrod straight, peeling off taut rhythms with marvelous efficiency. Eric Clapton, ever the laid-back guitar god, seared his instrument to perfection. Bassist Jack Bruce, the evening's revelation, crisscrossed his bandmates' sensible paths with mischief and daring. Nearly four decades after the British trio's brief, illustrious run in the late '60s, however, mastery never quite translated to synergy, and supreme balance trumped magic and chaos every time. But what balance. This mix was so democratic one imagines that lawyers were involved. It was clear from the start of Cream's 20-song set -- a glistening, streamlined version of the Skip James gem ''I'm So Glad" -- that the signature three-headed assault of the band's early days was a thing of the past. In short order ''Spoonful," which stretched out graciously but never wandered too far or too long from center, confirmed Cream's shift into the mature musician's comfort zone -- forsaking the wildfires of youth for clean lines and predictable plots. ''Crossroads," gilded with the solo Clapton gleam, was pared to three minutes. The classic-rock radio staples ''White Room" and ''Sunshine of Your Love" promised great peaks but were reined in soon after the ascent began. Again during ''Sweet Wine," the elusive riveting groove emerged only to disappear before liftoff, the victim of careful scheduling. Oddities like Baker's spoken-word piece ''Pressed Rat & Warthog" and the skewed blues ''Politician" stood out all the more for their distinctive textures. And a show-stealing version of ''Rollin' and Tumblin' " -- a careening mess of Bruce's harmonica, Clapton's slide guitar, and Baker's snapping snare -- was a too-fleeting foil to the night's wealth of tasteful restraint. It's worth noting that with the exception of a brief set at the band's 1993 induction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, Clapton, Bruce, and Baker hadn't played together in 37 years until this past May, when Cream did four dates at London's Royal Albert Hall. All got what they've candidly revealed they came for -- Clapton the collaborative spark, Bruce and Baker the paycheck, and the audience a massive jolt of quality nostalgia -- which inspired the group to book the New York shows. One wonders what might happen if Cream continues on as a trio and makes an investment in unearthing the magic as well as relearning the songs. Joan Anderman can be reached at anderman@globe.com.