Definitely Not L.A.

Life is good when you have friends with enough free time on their hands to share links like this.

From Yahoo: 

Michael Jackson is in discussions about creating a 50-foot robotic replica of himself to roam the Las Vegas desert, according to reports.

The pop legend is currently understood to be living in the city, as he considers making a comeback after 2004’s turbulent child sex case.

It has now been claimed that his plans include an elaborate show in Vegas, which would feature the giant Jacko striding around the desert, firing laser beams.

If built, the metal monster would apparently be visible to aircraft as they come in to land in the casino capital.

It is the centerpiece of an elaborate Jackson-inspired show in Vegas, according to Andre Van Pier, the robot’s designer.

Luckman Van Pier, his partner at the company behind the proposal, claims blueprints have been drawn up for the show and seen by the star.

“Michael’s looked at the sketches and likes them,” he told the New York Daily News.

On the subject of the robot, he continued: “It would be in the desert sands. Laser beams would shoot out of it so it would be the first thing people flying in would see.”

I’m thinking this is right up Monroe’s alley if Jacko’s plans fall through–imagine the tourist value of a giant robot Custer guarding the county line on a giant robot steed. Or a giant robot muskrat? 

A giant robot Aunt Bett would be awesome, too–holographic projections of classic Little Brown Bear stories could light up the early evening skies over Maybee. 

Maybe one of those brainiac robotics teams could whip one up as a school project.

Dunno ’bout you, but I’m growing as weary of “tribute records” as I am of strung-out Muppets and Karl Rove’s rap career.

For me, no matter how much pre-release promise they hold, they wind up providing a track or two for mix CD fodder more often than they turn out to be discs I play through on any kind of frequent rotation.  Every so often, though, a tribute disc comes along to look forward to–writer Jimmy Guterman’s Sandinista Project, due out in May, qualifies.

A re-imagining of the bloated Clash kinda sorta masterpiece, Sandinista Project is set to feature an eclectic lineup from the Smithereens to (full disclosure) Friend of DNLA Jason Ringenberg, each taking a Clash track and making it his own.  No superstars, and even a few acts that are (gadzooks) unknown to me.  It’s a benefit disc, to boot, with proceeds going to Amnesty International and the Joe Strummer Memorial Forest, an anti-global warming cause, so I’m in. 

Guterman’s been blogging the evolution of the disc, and there are a few previews to be had if you dig digging for links.

DNLA’s got a soft spot for the undead, whether it’s Robert Kirkman’s brilliant Walking Dead comic series or David Wellington’s zombie trilogy (in order: Monster Island, Nation and Planet) but Danny Boyle’s revved-up, UK-set 28 Days Later remains the benchmark in modern zombie media. The trailer for the sequel, 28 Weeks Later, is out, and we’ll be there on opening day:

While we’re whitewater rafting in our inner YouTube, here’s an old favorite:

Wed edit: and now Oprah’s in on the feeding frenzy, picking Cormac McCarthy’s stunning book The Road as her latest book club offering, complete with on-air interview with the reclusive genius. I know, I know–it’s not exactly rampaging, brain-mowing mutants, but it’s apocalyptic-y enough to qualify for the genre as far as I’m concerned.

Jack White to play Elvis, sayeth the NME.

300 spoofs are everywhere these days–here’s my favorite:

but the funniest 300 riffage I’ve seen can be found here

(I should probably mention that that link’s not quite for the kiddies due to language.)

Hard as it may be to believe less a month after the conclusion of MoCo’s 20th Annual Black History Month Blues Fest-o-Rama, planning’s underway for February 2008.

It’s tricky to dig in and dream it up all over again right after wrapping one up, but the state’s arts funding cycle spots deadlines for proposals to be considered for the next fiscal year right around the first of May. 

This is probably a good time to underscore the value and necessity of letting your legislators know how much arts funding has done for you and your community if you’re into the blues series–state arts money usually makes up one-half to two-thirds of the project’s budget each year, and arts funding is clearly on the chopping block as Lansing figures out what to do about the budget deficit.  Get on the phone, send an e-mail, or post a letter if you feel so moved.

Let me step down off the soapbox now and admit that the blues series is standing at a crossroads–two decades down, the anniversary year celebrated in style with “homecoming” events, it’s time to begin a new chapter, tell a different part of the story of the blues, and blues in Monroe County.  It should go without saying that with that May 1 deadline looming there are some ideas flowing–I’m listening to a talented young acoustic bluesman named Samuel James as we speak–but I wanted to open up the floor: any acts out there you’re itching to see onstage at the RRCA or the Meyer Theater next February?  Any alumni who didn’t make it back this year you’d like to see again? 

In other words…any requests?

The net-savvy among you have probably already seen this seventy-leven times by now, but I’ve been off the grid, so go here and have a horribly non-PC comic book chuckle.

Sinbad: still yet not dead.

Joisey rock & soul man Southside Johnny takes us to Rock School ‘07:

“A short course in the music biz: The record companies own all the masters of my albums. They are called catalogue. The more catalogue a company has, the greater its assets, and the greater amount of money it can borrow from the banks at a “friendly” rate. My records are just part of the vast catalogues of a number of companies. They don’t release them because they don’t think they can sell enough of them to make any profit. But they won’t sell them back to me (except for a very large chunk of money) because they want both the catalogue power and the tax write off for inventory. I would love to own my masters, and try every so often to get them, but to date, no luck. That’s why I encourage all youse message board folks to burn copies for anyone who really wants a CD. Let the fatcat, pinstripedsuitwearin’, cigar slobbererin’ bastards sue me.”