Wherein a Mexican Becomes Philip J. Fry

Personally, I would have liked to become Stephen Fry, or at least some kind of latin equivalent. Or at the least, been sent 1000 years into the future. TO THE WOOOOORLD OF TOMORROOOOOW! Not gonna happen though, so I'm stuck in my new profession of delivering pizzas. Now here's the kicker. I'm a trained dental assistant. 4.0 GPA, President's List for the trade school I was at, never missed a day. (Well save for one, but I even the dean admitted that being arrested makes for a compelling case to excuse one day, and I did make up for it) And despite my knowledge, what I know, what I can do... I still can't find a damn job as a dental assistant.

I really wish there was someone I could complain to about this. I really hate to make this sound like some tired little diatribe of my own life, that's not what I want this blog to be about, but goddammit our country isn't really doing any better. I'm the only guy in my graduating class that doesn't seem to have landed a position, and it's not for lack of trying, believe me. I've tapped out the entire valley and it just seems to me that I'm getting nothing. Hell, I might have better luck just going to another country and trying there as opposed to the nonsense that California is stuck in. Hell, at this rate the whole damn state is going to be just hacked off from the rest of the Union like a gangrenous limb, much like Escape From LA.

In any case, your Resident Mexican is delivering pizzas for 8 bucks an hour. Plus tip! Yaaaay. Here's hoping something crops up, I did get word that a full time temp position is opening up in December, so I just need to hold on I suppose.

Wherein a Mexican Encounters the Harold of Galactus

I love improv. I really do. I mean, I'm terrible at it yes, but that doesn't detract from my appreciation of the art. It takes a very limber and flexible mind to do improv, and above all do it well. Technically the hobo yelling obscenities and waving his pecker at you while being picked up by the local law enforcement brigade is doing improv. Improv that'll get him beaten even more senseless in the pen, but improv nonetheless.

I recently graduated from my career college with honors (I know. A mexican succeeding? Shocking!), and as a sort of present, a friend of mine treated me to a day out. Lunch, that sort of thing out in Little Tokyo, and after futzing about for the day we trooped on out to another part of LA just off of Melrose, near Paramount Studios of all places, to a little comedy club called 'Comedy Sportz'.

Now, I haven't been to a lot of clubs, on principal mostly, but there was something very inviting about this one. For starters, the patio was set up like my cousin's backyard in downtown, and the concession stand was in a garage. Both of course, remodeled and with heating lamps, but a garage and backyard nonetheless. I really liked it actually, it made it feel more at home and cozier, at least with me, and it was nice to just sit back and chit-chat before the show started.

I think a bit of explanation is in order. A few months ago I went to their first show at Brave New World Comics in Valencia, featuring Mark Meer, also known to most folks as Commander Shepherd. The Harold of Galactus is an improv group, performing an improvised comic series, comprising of an omnibus of sorts, including their origin, their nemesis, moments in their superhero career, and even their tales as written by Frank Miller. (WHORESWHORESWHORESWHORESWHORES) Now bear in mind that it's all made up pretty much on the spot with minimal opinions and thoughts thrown about, enough to get the groundwork settled. It's immensely difficult to describe the entire segment, but really, when Doctor Destiny, Master of Space and Time, is thrust into battle against Baron Boom and his Blampires...

Well, it's a special kind of full-bore magic and lunacy that you can't even find in a fever dream. The first part of the act always consists of an improvised comic book, with the second being something different each time. An improvised video game, a zombie survival movie, a D&D session, there's really no end to the geekiness. THACO not-withstanding, I was unaware you could backstab a Gelatinous Cube, or even backstab a dragon in the uvula. Goddamn rogues.

There really is a special kind of magic to the whole show, and I have to give a shout out to you guys for being so willing to go out on stage and just let it all hang out. Figuratively speaking of course. It takes a lot of courage to put yourself out on stage, and everyone that does it really does deserve more respect then they're given, because while any one of us could go out there, we couldn't do it with nearly as much aplomb. There's a spark to you all, something that stokes the fires of joy and happiness within us, and while it may be just for one night, even for an hour or two, you still bring a smile to this little mexican's face. Thanks guys, you all deserve a cold one on me.

Whenever I get money of course.

I highly recommend anyone in the greater Los Angeles area go out and see these guys. They're going to be in town until the 25th, performing every Saturday, two shows a night. Tickets are only five bucks a pop, and really, what were you going to do on a Saturday night anyways?

Special mentions for perfomances thus far:

Mark Meer as A Kobold and a Dragon's Face
Chris Tallman as Doctor Destiny
Matt Young and Ryan Smith as Giant Jellyfish Creatures / Chang
Josh Dean as The Rogue and Tai Phoon/Sue Nami
Jenny Flack as The Shark II

I swear, I could NOT make any of this up guys.

Official information:

ComedySportz L.A.

733 N Seward St

Los Angeles, CA

Mapquest is your friend here, it's not too hard to find really. Parking might be a little scarce, but if you show up early enough it shouldn't be a problem. Come early and just hang out, there's a foozball table! FOOZBALL! And we're having such lovely evenings, especially after this hellish heatwave we've been having. Be sure to bring a jacket, LA can get kind of chilly at night.

Wherein a Mexican Sees The Magic That is Anamanaguchi

I'd known my favorite chiptune band was going to be in town for a little over a week, and I'd made plans to try and go see them. My sister was my partner in crime tonight, charming little beast that she is, and after spending a bit of time at Little Tokyo today (Orochan Ramen nearly killed me. And yet it's deliciousness was AMAZING) we traipsed on over to Meltdown Comics over on Sunset. I'm kind of disappointed in myself honestly, I've been in California, not but half an hour from LA and I hardly ever even go out there to see what's what. I'm a failure of a Californian.

Then again the two terms tend to be mutually exclusive. But I digress.

Meltdown Comics was, I should say, freaking HUGE. Seriously, you could put my house quite comfortably inside of it. Possibly two. In any case, we checked in and got out purple wristbands signifying that we did indeed have a right to be there, and after a bit of waiting (and having a bathroom briefly hijacked by someone else) we we let into the venue, which was, in fact, the gallery for the comic shop. More or less it was a basement which permitted the entire audience to be packed in like sardines. And that was pretty much the case by the time we all filed in.

The stage, for lack of a better term since it was pretty much just a corner of the room, had a whole bunch of equipment set up. Mixers, a guitar, a few amps and a soundboard... And two Nintendo Entertainment Systems and a Gameboy. Unorthodox, yes, and supremely bizarre. The fact that one of the NES's was blue and pink with 'Anamanaguchi' on the side did nothing to stave off the oddness. Awesome yes, but odd nonetheless.

D/A/D was on first, and I gotta say, for a one man show, the man certainly knew how to impress. Quite honestly, I was entranced, spellbound even by his performance. In my opinion, he was clearly loving every moment of it, and who could blame him? His music was captivating, had a rhythm that sunk right into your bones and pulled them like a puppeteer, and I could close my eyes at any given time during the performance and just let the music take me away. The guy had some serious chops; playing guitar, two keyboards, AND mixing through his laptop. The deserves a fucking medal for everything he did, seriously.

D/A/D left the audience in high spirits, and ready for the main event. Not that I'm discounting the man, far from it, but the band was on the header for the website for a reason. After a bit of warming up and tuning, the crowd was ready to rock One forward thinking individual had even crafted a pixelated Scott Pilgrim head and was holding it up in reverence of the band. It was a sweet gesture, and honestly it warmed my heart cockles to see Pete accept the gift from the fan. You really don't see that kind of thing in big time concerts, and it's part of the reason why I like smaller, private shows better. It shows that the band really does care for the fans, and there's just so much more interaction between fans and artists that can't be found anywhere else.

Now, I can't really elaborate on the show too much, though the videos that I'll be posting to my Youtube can do much better, including a couple of piss poor teasers from the show itself. I will say this though. Despite the fact that it stank like Swedish chocolate (for some truly odd reason), despite the fact that everyone was sweating like mad and there wasn't a dry back in the house, despite the crowded conditions... I wouldn't have changed a thing about any of it.

It's all part of the scene really. There's just a certain energy that can only be found in these types of performances, a kind of electricity that's almost palpable. It jumps from person to person, fizzing and crackling as it hotwires your spine, hijacking your senses and flipping off the policeman as it takes your brain for a joyride. You find yourself stomping and hooting, hollering and headbanging, jumping and jiving for sheer joy as the music takes control. Something primal and wild wells up inside you, and in those conditions, all those people around you just stirs the pot even more. A primal sense of community develops, where the whole tribe gathers around the fire to listen and celebrate something ancient and incredible that we can only hope to reach in some distant way.

I could be romanticizing the whole thing, but I like to think that there's some truth in my words. Flat out though, despite standing all of 3 feet from the main speaker, I was floored by the wonderful and surreal sounds that Anamanaguchi produces, what with their hacked NES's and Gameboy. It was particularly a trip to hear them do a cover of an especially memorable song. Let me tell you friend, nothing can prepare you for an 8 bit rendition of Weezer's 'Buddy Holly'. Their was a bit of moshing, which is inevitable in these things, but it really wasn't so bad. Sure, people pushed and bashed around, but it was never too hard, and it was a case of controlled chaos; people were going nuts but in a restrained fashion.

In any case, I've said a lot, and I'll let the videos do more talking. I'm in the process up getting them up right now actually. For your own viewing pleasure, here's the first of them, the rest of which can be viewed at my user page on Youtube. Just look up TheBumbleBeaner.

Wherein a Mexican Extols On the Virtues of Chiptunes

Let's make one thing perfectly clear. I grew up in the '80's and '90s. The former not so much, but the latter definitely. I was a child who's lullabies were the bleeps and bloops of their NES, particularly Zelda and Mario. Duck Hunt is a close 3rd, but let's face it, we all hated that smug little bastard of a dog whenever he laughed at you. Don't even shy away from that one, you hated hearing his snickering as he delighted in your failure. Particularly when you failed to shoot down all of the ducks in the last wave. Smarmy little jackass would come up out of the bushes and then...

HOOHOOHOOHOOHOO

Back to my point, one of the most telling things about these games oddly enough was the music. It's pretty impressive when you can hum a few bars from Zelda and someone will look at you and say 'Hey! That's the item collection jingle from Zelda, isn't it?' It's not the visuals we remember, but the music, and it's worked it's way into modern culture. Video Games Live is an amazing reminder of why game music is not to be looked down upon, considering that people take the time to re-score simple 8 bit melodies into full on orchestral pieces.

As an added twist, we're finding that these simple MIDI quality musics are actually being integrated into schooling even. I'm not 100 percent on this since I can't compose worth dick, but I've heard that making your own original digital score of this type, or 'chiptune' is becoming requisite for submitting any type of portfolio for a musical job. It shows flexibility with limited tools for real composers, and above all, originality. There's only so much you can do with basic sounds, but people can pull off some damn DAMN impressive pieces.

In particular, one group by the name of Anamanaguchi caught my eye. Officially, they're a group that "makes loud, fast music with a hacked NES from 1985." (From their Wikipedia article) Among other things, the group has some INCREDIBLE tracks, available for purchase which I highly recommend. Their music is an obvious love letter to the bygone era of 8 and 16 bit games, and the fact that they've found a way to integrate electric guitar and drums into their music to create strange, terrifyingly surreal and flat out inspiring chops is nothing short of impressive.



We keep on wanting to remake old movies and old games, but why? Splatterhouse is being made into a 360 game (with the original three games being part of the deal), King Kong had a graphical facel ift (old news but still, the concept is the same). Not that I'm complaining mind you, but why the revisits to eras gone by? Granted, with technology advancing as it it, looking back to old media and giving it a fresh coat of paint can prove to be quite marvelous, but there's also the risk of it falling flat on it's ass in a stupendous fashion. League of Extradordinary Gentlemen comes to mind. You could've boiled water for ramen off of Allan Moore's skull following that disaster. No amount of Sean Connery could have saved that shipwreck...

But I digress. It's refreshing to hear this kind of thing happening, particularly because older miscreants like myself are really the only ones who can understand the full scope of things like this. And really, that's quite a large slice if awesome.

Wherein a Mexican Explodes A Barbecue Grill

Here's a tip folks. Lighter fluid, while immensely useful during the grilling process and getting it started, is not to be played with. And while it's common knowledge that gasoline + fire = manly explosions, it's a bit of common sense that may or may not slip one's mind. Now, I'm an idiot, at least to the point where I'll forget what I was talking about if I'm really excited about something and I'm literally tripping over my words. But I can at least light a pile of charcoal briquette's up, right?

Now in my defense, I was able to get it lit up. I might have gone a bit exact on the pyramid I had to stack though and arranged it with a 5x5 briquette base. Applied the lighter fluid, lit it up, and let the charcoal ash over for about 15 minutes. Simple yes? Now, unfortunately for me, I'd neglected to spread the coals after the ashing, and a lot of them had cooled off. So I had to add more charcoal to it and proceeded to ass more lighter fluid to aid in the process.

I didn't have my little idiot moment there. See, there were no glowing embers at the time, so I figured, "Hey, I should be safe" so I added the fluid and lit up. Impressive when it went up, but hardly enough to get the ball rolling for cooking. So mom comes out and says 'We need more charcoal on it."

And more.

And more.

And yet more again, until the entire bottom was nothing but ash and unsoaked briquettes to the untrained eye. (IE, mine) So effectively, I'd gone right back to square one. So there I stand, frumping a bit as there's little to no heat coming off the coals. Upsetting, naturally. In my haste to get things started again, I added more fuel to the fire, totally forgetting about the hot embers glowing softly to themselves beneath the pile.

On the plus side, I know now that 'FWOOMPH' is indeed a sound, and it's actually very impressive when you hear it.

Wherein a Mexican Enters the Fray

Blogging huh? Never thought much of it, seemed like a glorified version of LiveJournal. But what the hell, it could be fun. Plus it's 1:53 in the morning and I can't seem to fall asleep. We'll see how it goes down the line eh? Expect ramblings, reviews, all sorts of good stuff.