geek out on this!

So you think you're a Mac geek huh? Let's test you to see if you qualify for the highest level of geekiness.

Do you have an iPhone?

Does your iPhone have a name?

Do you brag about your iPhone apps?

Do you brag about your iPhone apps to your other iPhone apps?

If you answered "yes" to all of these questions, you're welcome to read on. All others, please exit here.

So, fellow geeks. Here we are. Well, here I am and you're somewhere reading this blog, probably 3G-ing your tweets and ROTFL-ing all the while. What fun we geeks have on a regular basis! Sigh... Anyway, check out this new iPhone app. You've earned it, dork.

shameless self-promotion

I know, I know. You've probably begun to feel the effects of Lack of Dan. It's not serious, but it is, conversely, quite serious. Seeing as I haven't posted for over a month, I'm injecting some much-needed Vitamin-D into this blog.

So I'm providing a couple links to websites I've worked that have gone live on the past month. That's right. Shameless self-promotion. But I think you'll enjoy your web experiences.

This is a site featuring some back-to-school phones for high schoolers. Click on the thumbs in headbands to give your fingers a "full QWERTY workout" (not as easy as you might think). Check it: sprint.com/backtoschool

And this one is a site for Foster Farms, who is proud of the fact that their chickens aren't "plumped", meaning they aren't injected with saltwater to make them weigh more and cost more at the market. So given that rather obscure tidbit we had to convey, we developed a website where... two chickens hold a conversation about plumping. But before you drift off to sleep pondering the possibilities, give the link a click. I think it turned out well: saynotoplumping.com

Ah... It's good to be back.

Elk City, Oklahoma

Let me begin by saying I had a blast at my buddy's wedding in Elk City. Plenty of good friends, good booze and good fun. 

And there's nothing wrong with the town itself. It's just... Elk City. Maybe I've lived away from Oklahoma for too long, but it seems like every building, semi-truck and t-shirt was a reminder that "Jesus Saves" or "United We Stand".

Here's a sign in the dressing room, where I tried on my tux.

Here are the key cards to our hotel room.

Here was the view from our hotel room. (Not related to the theme, but I thought it was weird to see an indoor putt-putt course from my only window.)

Here's are some children's drawings, on display at the Elk City Denny's. In the first one, notice Satan dragging "Mom" and "Dad" down to hell as they plead for mercy. 

In the second, notice how Native Americans are welcomed into heaven (presumably after converting). 

And finally, here is "Your Best Bet For the Internet". Apparently, that metal pole on top of the building is the nexus of the Internet. 

If you're planning a trip to the capital of the Internet, or just want some colorfully disturbed children's drawings, just remember... It's up to YOU!

Eddie Rickenbacker's

You know that place near where you live? You walk (or drive) past it every day, but you've never gone in? It looks kinda cool, but you just assume someone died there or something and that's why no one ever goes there?

Well, for me that place is Eddie Rickenbacker's in SOMA, San Francisco. I know it's called Eddie Rickenbacker's only because I googled it. The sign outside says "40 Cycles of Yesteryear", which is not only a little misleading for a bar/restaurant, it's also quite accurate. There are tons (literally, I'm sure) of antique motorcycles dangling from the ceiling in this place. 

But I thought it was just a biker bar, and my fear of San Francisco bikers is part of the reason I didn't go in there until a couple weeks ago. I saw a brunch menu on the door. And although that didn't cure my fear of assless chaps, it did convince me there wouldn't be any hardcore bikers inside. 'I mean, when's the last time you saw the Hell's Angels sipping bellinis?' I whispered to myself as I summoned the courage to push open the door. 

So I went in, and from what I saw, it isn't a biker bar at all. It's a bar/restaurant that's stuck in history somewhere between the old west and 1978. There are tiffany lamps scattered about, ridiculously ornate and oversized chandeliers among the motorbikes hanging precariously (given the area's penchant for sudden and violent shaking), a cat on the bar, and a piano at the front door. And believe it or not, the piano was the most striking and interesting of the features. The waitresses/bartenders there played old jazz, swing and show tunes and sang along (beautifully) the entire time. Definitely gave the place an old San Francisco feel.

Oh, and the crab sandwich on buttered sourdough toast was to die (of a burst ventricle) for.

Here's Eddie Rickenbacker's info. Can't wait to go back.

hiking in Marin

One of my favorite things to do on weekends is to go hiking with my wife and my dog up in Marin county. We go to the headlands along the Tennessee Valley and wind our way through the trails up there. It's beautiful and it's only about 10 minutes outside the city.

Here are some photos of a recent hike. As I recall, it was hot that day, and I found a tick (not pictured) on my stomach afterward. 

foil party from the future

My buddy Lee - not the Buddy Lee,  but a buddy of mine whose name is Lee - had his birthday party a few weeks ago in Oakland. It was an f'n  blast. The theme was "The Future" and everyone had to dress up using foil somehow to get into the party. Once inside, the booze, beats and breakdancing flowed freely. Lee's dance crew, For The Cause, capped off the evening with a drunken performance, which still blew the crowd away. 

Here are some photos from the evening. 

Lee throws his foil Mechwarrior Pilot outfit into high gear.

I fashioned my foil glasses and foil watch (not pictured) in the cab on the way there. 

Alternate caption: Futuristic Dan looks an awful lot like present-day Elton John.

The party was off the hook. The hook was off the chain. And the chain was off it's fucking rocker.

I got home around 2am and turned on ESPN. And what greeted me but a female 9-ball billiards player with a misspelled version of my last name? I mean, can you say ironic? Someone call Sheryl Crow!

more Ted videos

Yep, Ted is back with two brand-new episodes. And she's as incredulous as ever as The Guy Who Talks To Ted pays her another antagonizing visit at her desk in one episode, and dreams about her in the other, much freakier, much stranger episode. I recommend watching the latter after taking two Smints, putting one under the tongue and one in the anus. That's a Smint in the pink, and a Smint in the stink.

Enjoy.

"Misrepresentings"

"The Dream About Ted"

bronze statues - addendum

I just saw this one yesterday. 

This thing is taller than me.

Again I ask you, who the hell is buying these things? Sure, the horse makes more sense than the life-size football player. But this is still a part of town, Chinatown that caters largely to tourists. That means they must ship their 850-lb bronze horse back home to Xenia, Ohio. Who the hell would do that? The fine residents of Xenia shouldn't have to tolerate old "Hi-Ho Bronzer, Away!" on their streets.

But I think I'm beating around the bush and avoiding the real issue here.

There are drugs stuffed up this horse's ass. There's no other explanation. That's how this store can keep a constant flow of giant, tacky bronze statues in and out and shipping all over the world. Yep, drugs up the asses.

Sorry Xenia.

bronze statues

As I walk through Chinatown on my way to and from work each day, I pass many shops specializing, whether they acknowledge it or not, in what can only be described as "odd curiosities". Now most of these curiosities are cheap little knickknacks, aimed at tourists. You've got your rice hats, your plastic swords and your snap pops.

And then there are the life-sized bronze statues. 

There's the classic life-sized bronze lion. 

This one I guess I could understand as a gift for the curator of the Art Institute in Chicago. Or if you're buddies with the Emperor of the Ming Dynasty.

Then there's the life-sized bronze bench, complete with bronze kids.

Uh... What's going on here? I ordered a bench. You know, for sitting. Why would you permanently affix bronzed children onto the center of the bench, the part most likely to support my ass? This is kinda creepy. You didn't just Han Solo some innocent children at rest, did you? If so, selling this bench is an extremely risky way to cover up your heinous crime.

And just the other day, I passed this statue.

You gotta be shittin' me. That's what I said to myself as I fumbled in my pocket for my iPhone to a) snap this picture and b) call my priest to tell him hell had bronzed over. Whichever metallurgy whiz came up with this one was tragically unfamiliar with the buying habits of American sports fans. 

The thing is, these things cannot be cheap. Yet, judging by the frequency with which they're unloaded from delivery trucks each week, they're selling like hotcakes. Monstrous, metallic, eyesores of hotcakes.

But I guess that's the good news. If people are using their disposable (quite disposable in this case) income on these abominations (abronzinations?), we've gotta be pulling out of this whole recession/depression thing. 

Thank God for that.

think you're depressed?

At least you're not this server. Poor thing. 

Whoever did that site deserves a nice, virtual pat on the back. It's not often I stop for three whole minutes on a website that isn't facebook, the onion or emusic. 

And there's not much to this one. Just a sad, sad piece of modern technology.

this just in...

Pandas can't slide.

1969

Do you ever get the feeling that 1969 is spying on us?

No? Maybe this will change your mind. It's a video from 1969 (I know this to be true because that particular year appears above the video, and YouTube wouldn't lie to me) explaining the Internet, only they didn't call it the Internet. 

I thought the whole thing was really freaky, especially considering the Internet was all shiny and new in the 90s. In 1969, the idea of shopping and banking from a console in your home must've seemed downright Orwellian. 

But the thing that I noticed most was the way the voiceover sounded exactly like every filmstrip I ever watched as a kid in school. Who was that guy? (Not Troy McClure, but close...)

new video

By popular demand. (Two people count as "popular" right?)

It's the latest episode from the office where Ted works. Seems they have casual Fridays there. Or do they?*

Watch the episode here.

*Yes, they do.

walkin' for CF

Dear friends and blog followers (whom I also consider friends, even if we've only "virtually" met), 

You know most of the time how walking merely transports you from one place to another? Well, I'm going to try a new kind of walking. Space-age walking, you might say. If you're into exaggerating. 

What I'm going to do is try to walk and do some good at the same time.

I'll be taking part in the Great Strides walk here in San Francisco on May 2 to benefit Cystic Fibrosis. I'm supposed to say something here about how "soon CF will stand for Cure Found" and "with great strides come great results".

But what I'll say instead is that my nephew is a beautiful little kid, all of one year old, who has no idea he's got a lifelong battle against a really tough condition. Luckily, he's one tough kid. Here's some evidence of that.

If you're not familiar with Cystic Fibrosis, read about it here.

Then think about using the link below or the widget above (hitting you from two sides, I know).

http://www.cff.org/great_strides/DanielHofstadter

Thanks. And (aside from the benevolence that naturally arises from "zany" music reviews and quasi-funny rants) thanks for letting me do some real good through my blog.

- Dan

music - Cave Singers

Just caught these guys opening for Dr. Dog at the Fillmore last night. Great show by both bands. No surprise from Dr. Dog, whose live shows have been much heralded in the blogosphere.

But I was surprised at the Cave Singers, with their sparse rhythms and impressive, almost evil finger-picking on the guitar. They channeled something. The show was last night, and I downloaded the Cave Singers album "Invitation Songs" this morning. 

Really interesting stuff. And I don't mean "interesting" as in: 

"How do you like my Crocs, Gwyneth?" 

"Interesting."

I mean that the Cave Singers are from Seattle, and they're trying for an original, low-key yet intense sound that's very interesting. Could easily be the music stoners sit around discussing in hushed tones, but could also fit as party music for some friends who crave cool, new artists.

Check out the standout tracks "Helen" and "Dancing On Our Graves". Then, and only then, will I allow you to have a good weekend. 

black cab sessions

Black Cab Sessions is one of my favorite sites. It's a bunch of videos of bands sitting in the back of a cab playing one of their songs. The cab just drives around London, bouncing the passengers around, and the band has to play through it. 

As the band tries to maintain their concentration, it's fun to watch the pedestrians on the street as this inexplicably musical cab passes by.

Really fun, simple idea. A Webby Award sort of idea. Uh-huh.

These are some of my favorite "sessions":

Spoon 

The New Pornographers (my fave)

Calexico 

Cold War Kids 

My Morning Jacket 

Brian Wilson (man, he still sounds good)

Bon Iver 

The Cool Kids (freestyle rap in the back of a cab? believe it)

Fleet Foxes 

Peter, Bjorn & John (with Bjorn strangely missing)

nice work, andy

And the award for Least Creative Graffiti goes to...

Shoot. If only the artist left us some indication of who we have to thank for this masterwork.

Alas, this colorless, plain-script tag - we'll call it "Andy" - will forever be mired in anonymity. The expert craftsmanship and dedication to detail, however, will be on full display until it rains or someone grabs a sponge. 

Spotted this in San Francisco's Financial District on California St. between Kearny and Grant, if anyone cares to glimpse transcendence... while it lasts.

keyboard drum set

The title of this post should really read "keyboard drum set/synthesizer", but I prefer brevity and loathe slashes. Damn all slashes to hell!

So... I like drums, beats, percussion, rhythm and repetition. And repetition. And old jokes. My drum set at home is my favorite toy (just ask my wife, who bought it for me, then immediately regretted it, but you get what you pay for baby, and last time I checked, love ain't on sale). But I never thought I'd be able to use my computer's keyboard as my very own rhythm section. 

Enter this strange, little site. It assigns a drum or synthesized sound to each key. All you do is figure out which ones you want to use, and away you go. (Spoiler alert: the M key is George Michael yelling "Damn!")

It's the next best thing to not being a huge nerd!

beige cartoons

I have a condition known as WADD, Web Attention Deficit Disorder. I don't talk about it much. But yes, I've got WADD. 

It basically means I fixate on one sexy, new website. Then I quickly lose interest and move on to the next hot, young website. I promise it's not as disgusting as it sounds.

But recently, I discovered how to make rudimentary videos on this site.

And despite my crippling WADD, I stayed on the site for more than 13 seconds. I even made a few videos. Check them out here: 

"Ted" 

"Preflight Announcements" 

"Guy In Garage"

"Thermostat"

"Ted's Beat"

batman-on-batman action

US disputes North Korea's "giant hot dog" launch

Washington (AP) - Top US intelligence officials disputed North Korea's claim it was going to launch a giant hot dog into space next month. The officials pointed out that the object on the launch pad in Pyongyang looked much more like a long-range nuclear missile than a giant hot dog.

"Who do they think they're fooling?" National Intelligence Director Dennis Blair said at a press conference Thursday. "There's no way that thing is a giant hot dog. It's a freaking missile. It looks just like all the other missiles they have." 

Still, North Korea has held fast to the giant hot dog claim, even writing a press release in English, urging Americans not to worry about "the big hot dog on the missile launch pad, which is totally a hot dog, not a missile."

Americans are not the only ones with doubts though. Japanese officials are among the skeptics. And six-time Hot Dog Eating Champion and Japanese resident Takeru "Tsunami" Kobayashi has been enlisted as an expert to investigate North Korea's claim. 

"I see no evidence of lucky hot dog," Kobayashi said through an interpreter and a mouthful of Nathan's hot dogs and water. 

Back in the States, Blair agrees. He believes the whole thing is a ruse by North Korea to throw off American, Japanese and other international leaders by pretending their missile was a giant hot dog. 

But Blair's not buying it. "Where's the bun? Where's the relish? Wait, do Koreans even eat relish? Someone find out. I don't want to start an international incident here."

the revolution

I don't know if you've noticed, but there are signs of a movement everywhere. The people are putting actions behind their convictions. 

A revolution is underway. 

A vacuum revolution. 

And who is giving a voice to this revolution? James Dyson. Have you seen this assclown? Surely you've seen the ads. This incredibly arrogant descendent of British jerks tells us all the inspiring story of how he singlehandedly changed the vacuuming industry overnight. According to his website, all of us see faults in everyday products, but only Dyson has the courage, infinite free time and funding to improve them. And his super-sucky designs have brought him fame and riches of over $6 billion. And he's going to spend millions in advertising to make sure you know it, regardless of coming off as an unrepentant, pretentious asshole. If you haven't used his vacuums, you've probably dried your hands in his airport hand dryer, for which he'll surely find a way to charge and demean you. He even has his own foundation and annual award, both of which he named after himself. 

Okay, we get it Dyson. You're the goddam modern-day Galileo. But I've got news for you, Dy-Vinci. (These renaissance jokes doing anything for you?) The world already has a Vizier of Vacuum Vanity. His name is David Oreck, owner and star of his own self-named vacuum company. And according to his website, he's a much bigger badass than your wildest dreams could ever aspire to hope for. Oreck drives mint-condition motorcycles to work, pilots his own biplanes, and refuses to even think about retiring, even though riding motorcycles and flying in open-air cockpits at 85 years old probably endangers dozens of lives. What a rebel! Oreck even joined the Army Air Corps (what the Air Force used to be called before jet engines were invented) at the age of 17. And that's not even legal! 

So what are you gonna do now, Dyson? Oreck just owned you in this vacuum magnate pissing contest I just made up. He's more experienced, rebellious, reckless and maverick-y than you'll ever be, Dyson. 

And he speaks American. Face it, Dyson. Oreck was saving your country's ass when your diapers were clogging your mommy's vacuum. U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A!

Katie's wedding

My cousin Katie got married last weekend in Amelia Island, Florida to Jeb, a really good guy. It was a very fun wedding, and I got to spend a lot of time with my nephew, the happiest baby on Earth. I might do a study on what makes babies smile, or why it's so utterly delightful for us adults to watch. (See the absurd number of hits on this video.)

names I've been called by bums

The city of San Francisco has a personality unlike any other. There's beauty in the landscape and surrounding water, and in the architecture. There's a unique balance of being a center of business, finance and the arts, while owning a pervasive attitude of tolerance throughout the city. 

And there are a shitload of bums here. Not the attack-you-in-Central-Park kind of bums or the OD'ed-on-meth-and-crank-and-passed-out-in-a-dumpster kind of bums (although drugs are a large part of many bums' daily lives). SF homeless, by and large, are a more pensive, intellectual breed. Sure, they will panhandle and ask for money. But they'll also cite the Wall Street Journal and Voltaire at you as you pass by. 

One bum even defended my wife's honor. She was walking on a main street, passing by an alley, when a bum in the alley began to pee on a building, not unusual behavior for a man without a home. But then another bum, let's call him Hero Bum, got in Peeing Bum's face and yelled, "You can't whip that out in front of a lady, man! Have some respect!" Hero Bum then apologized to my wife for the poor judgement the other man exhibited in "his neighborhood". And they say street chivalry is dead.

That said, we've also almost been peed on walking down the street too. 

The following is a list of things SF bums have yelled at me. Notice the tendency to avoid clichés in favor of creative spontaneity.

"Mr. Rotisserie!"

"Fortune 500? More like zero!"

"You're the Palo Alto of never!"

"It was the worst of times and the worst of times!"

"Death to Actors!"

"I put a curse on your children!"

"Obama wants you... to give me your spare change."

"Hollywood Hallelujah!"

"You wish faggot!" (this was yelled at me as I glanced at a toothless woman peeing in the street)

And that was just on the way to work this morning! Rimshot.

music - Hold Time by M. Ward

M. Ward has been described as a reincarnated Woodie Guthrie and a pre-incarnated Klaxtor McQuellsburg (who I believe will be a great folk/rock singer in 2051). He's the coolest folk-rocker out there today, and he's chugging right along with his latest LP.

Truth is, I could write absolutely anything that comes to mind about M. Ward and his album "Hold Time". Because what I write won't matter once you hear his music. I could call him a poet with the soul of a pirate, or the illegitimate son of Yasmine Bleeth and the Maytag Man. You'd still fall in love with his warm guitar picks and soothing voice. M. Ward is the rare musician whose music is both easy to access and deeply satisfying. 

But perhaps more importantly, he likes to dress up as the Easter Bunny and snack on pterodactyl embryos. 

It's true. Read about it on his site.

music - Fate by Dr. Dog

Looking for a band that isn't afraid to be huge fans of some of the best rock bands in history? Well, Dr. Dog has the prescription for you! 

I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. It's been more than a week since I last posted and I'm a little rusty. So I'm using puns to grease the wheels (see?). 

Bear with me. This band is worth hearing about. Contrary to their terrible and terribly deceptive name, Dr. Dog is a very talented and soulful band. Not a terrier who has completed medical school (I smell a sitcom!). 

Dr. Dog plays what could be described as really thoughtful pop/classic rock. But I like to describe Dr. Dog's album "Fate" like this. For every song they record, the band burns a copy of the Beatles' "Sergeant Pepper" with their own song hidden in there somewhere. Then they play it at a party to see if anyone notices or mentions that one song seems out of place. If no one notices, they keep the song for their next album. 

Not that Dr. Dog is purely derivative, but they're clearly trying to play with the big boys at the pinnacle of rock and roll. So they deserve to be judged by that standard. And tracks like Army of Ancients get this band with the awful name awful, awful close.

Here's Dr. Dog's weird website.

Pantalaine

Okay, let me try and compose myself for this post. 

Um, I don't know how to tell you this but... you're blind. 

You're blind because you haven't seen anything until you've seen this site!

UN

BE

LIEV

A

BLE. 

Pantalaine.com sells what they describe as "plural clothing". Please take a moment and explore this site right now. 

There are sweatshirts built for lovers, pants with sleeves attached to them so up to four people can touch your leg, pants with a built-in baby onesie, and - the crown jewel of the collection - a "couch dress". I would like to remind those of you that haven't clicked these links to please do so right now.

I still haven't figured out if this is for real. And I can't decide if it would be more mind-blowingly brilliant if it was or wasn't. That, in itself, is an achievement. 

But if anyone knows someone who lives near South Bend, IN (a student at Notre Dame, perhaps), please ask them if they've been to this store. And then leave a comment below. I'm dying to know.

Sigh... If only every website made me feel like sharing clothes with everyone else online. 

Nut Snob

We've all heard that cliché about the French. Not the "froglegs/snails/cheese/body odor/surrendering to anything that represents a vague threat" thing, the snobby thing. Well apparently, it applies to French squirrels too.

Check out this video about a French squirrel who moves into a new neighborhood and thinks his, um, nuts are better than everyone else's. (His nuts are Emerald Nuts, you see.)

It was directed Terry Rietta, who did it all in his spare time for no money. Time well spent, if you ask me.

book - The Road

I just finished The Road by Cormac McCarthy. The story was fragile, terrifying and relentlessly bleak, and I haven't read a book that good in years*.

To be clear, The Road depressed the hell out of me. But in a way only beautiful art can. It never tried to pull at your heartstrings or put a smile on your face. The story was sad and hopeful and bleak naturally, in the same way McCarthy's No Country For Old Men was desperate and odd and funny.

Maybe I've been reading too much nonfiction lately, but the clean, minimalist style of this novel felt like a breath of fresh air to me. It read like poetry.

Incidentally, it's being made into a movie starring Viggo Mortensen, which means anyone who read the book first will sit in the theater with expectations set dangerously high. Right where they should be.

- - -

*Maybe since Then We Came To The End by Joshua Ferris.

Jumbotron Spazz

We can glean a few things about the subject of this video.

1. He's at least a mild basketball fan.

2. He's a huge Bon Jovi fan.

3. He doesn't mind hugging strangers.

4. He might've majored in interpretive dance.

5. He's about to be a huge internet star.

http://urbanpromoter.com/jumbotron-spazz/