Witness to history

I'm usually not one to weigh in on celebrity gossip, since most movie stars are either homosexuals, liberals, criminals, or drug addicts (or all of the above). But given the constant droning of news choppers over Paris Hilton's safehouse (well within earshot of mine & Jesus' pad) for the past two days, I figured I'd engage in some of that citizen journalism that has MSM lying sleepless at night. Here's the view from outside our front door:

This happy little fellow was there when I got home last night and left some time around 7:30, when it became evident that Ms. Hilton was no longer going to have any more cheeseburgers delivered. A few more helicopters came and went before I called it a day, so I figured that was the end of the story. Wrong. As I was leaving to protest the gym a little before 5:00 this morning, the first one came buzzing by, presumably to catch any surreptitious pastry drop-offs for an early morning newscast. There were two helicopters by the time I got home at 6:30, which made me think that the cupcake beat must really be heating up. Jesus said He wishes she goes back to jail so He can get some sleep.

While I may have my judgments about Miss Hilton, it would be negligent of me to ignore the political dimensions of this story. True, she is a drunk whore who has routinely displayed a shocking lack of regard for the law. But on the other hand, she is rich, and white, and if anyone deserves leniency from the horrors of the penal system, it's this disenfranchised group. Unless we Republicans want to relegate ourselves to permanent minority status in the years to come, it's important that we begin reaching out to rich white people, to show them that the Party is big enough for all of us. Demanding justice for Paris -- for Scooter, for all of the martyrs of the judicial system -- is a small gesture of solidarity for our oppressed brethren that will reap enormous dividends.

As a pointless aside, I should note that isn't my first encounter with the media convoy that celebrity felons drag behind them like the train of a wedding gown. In 1994, I was living off Veteran in Westwood and got to watch the armada of police vehicles following O.J. Simpson up the 405. As I'm overcome with nostalgia, I can't help but wonder how many more convicted superstars will touch my life.
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Since I'm blathering on about nothing in particular, what better time to resume doing Friday random-ten iPod lists? Here's what you'd be stuck listening to if you were at mine & Jesus' place:

Mojave - Ikue Mori With Robert Quine And Marc Ribot
Vacant Night Sky - Mecca Normal
Star Ruby - Movietone
Joshua - Dolly Parton
Make It Go Away - Barbara Manning
Camp Orange - Cornershop
New Flash - Kissyfur
Dream By Dream - The Chills
Dimming Of The Day/Dargai - Richard & Linda Thompson
Artificial Sound Disc - K-Group

Damn, I've got some old records. I've also begun the arduous process of tranfering my vinyl lps to my computer using this handly little contraption Jesus gave me for Christmas. Here's the state of the art recording studio, which looks suspiciously like our dining room, where all this audio alchemy (It's in Nancyphonic!) is happening:


It's pretty straightforward, but I've had one big hurdle that I'm strill trying to work around. The pre-amp in my crappy little Aiwa turntable doesn't give enough signal to record at an optimal level, but when I plug it into a receiver, it makes everything I try to record sound like outtakes from Metal Machine Music. Jesus is encouraging me to get one of these because it has its own pre-amp and would solve this whole problem, and I think He really wants me to get this project finished so I can clear off the dining room table. So I'll look into that and probably make little updates when I've got nothing else to write about. Praise Him!