Doggie Pochahantas with the glassy stare
100% Sweatpants Bird
On a last minute whim, Jane and I went as Britney and K-Fed. My costume was revolting enough to make both my mom and Matt request I please stop going as a dude for Halloween. Someone thought I was Jane's real-life husband. Someone else thought I was Lady Sov. Sadly, there is no bottom half to this picture so you miss the bottom of our costumes (Jane's thong hiked out of the top of her jeans and her hot pink Ugg house shoes), mine was based on this classic Federline look:
It was a real easy costume to throw together, FYI, if you need a costume still for yr trick r treating later tonight.
In conjunction with The Reader's Books-issue that is out on Thursday, Martha, the books editor has put together another BOOK SWAP, where you can trade up to 15 books, where I will be DJ-ing from 5:30-6:30 and then hitting the 15 book swap limit hard while collecting my canvas tote. Thoughts of new books makes me sweat. Okay:
The Reader Book Swap returns Thursday, November 2, to the Logan Square Auditorium, 2539 N. Kedzie, from 5:30 to 9:30 PM. (Blue Line California or Logan stop)
As ever, it's all free. Bring as many as 15 books, take as many as 15 books. Pick up a copy of the fall books issue, hot off the presses. Win fabulous door prizes. Hang out and have a beer (ok, that part's not free).
New this time around: free Reader tote bags to the first 200 swappers. Plus DJ sets by from Reader contributors Jessica Hopper, Peter Margasak, Monica Kendrick, and Liz Armstrong.
*the fine print: no dusty, dirty, torn, or otherwise sorry-ass books please, and no periodicals, encyclopedias, or technical, legal, or medical-information books. leftovers to be donated to local charities.
1. Someone has carved the word "P OINK" into the drivers side door of my neighboors Humvee.
2. I re-saw the guy I saw last week chastise a toddler for acting "like a little bitch" and tell the baby "I'm not waiting for your ass" and then walk 1/3rd of the way up the block without the baby to show he really meant it, while the baby toddled in place. I re-saw the guy in almost the same spot; the bitch toddler was with him though.
3. My kitty-korner neighboor has removed the large sign from his yard that read "PICK UP YOUR DOGS SHIT" and replaced it with one endorsing Judy Barr Topinka.
This week, the bona-fide frightful Halloween episode of This American Life was pre-empted and un-run in the Chicago area for WBEZ pledge drive. But now you can download the shows for a week after they air--for free, or subscribe to the podcast, or just stream them over and over and over a million times. So, if you missed the Halloween show, "And The Call Was Coming From The Basement", I suggest you rectify that now. Matt did the spooky "Raindrops" song on there, 45 Grave makes probably their first and only appearance on NPR ever, and bad things happen c. Marthas Vineyard.
Mecca Normal, LA, this spring. David Lester throwin his arm like a toy.
"Legend of Billie Jean" = unheralded proto-riot girl influence?
There is a feminist subtext to everything Pat Benetar has ever done, down to the braided rat tail she sports in this video.
I probably read about this in 15 R.G. fanzines and at least 4 issues of Melody Maker, so I had my own envisioned version of exactly how it went down. But that was then, and now, it's 15 years later and finally seeing Huggy Bear doing "Her Jazz" on The Word is a "Hey Koolaid!" kind of mind-buster.
Sat. Nov. 11 - 12PM - All ages -
FROM NOON TO 5PM
SOUTH UNION ARTS MARKET (arts, crafts, and everything in between)
A holiday shopping bonanza! Local vendors will sell a variety of handmade items: clothing, journals, photography, poster art, paper goods... +3 bands-- FOR FREE.
While the industry-within-industry of craftmarkets is something I have a love hate relationship with, I have a feeling that the South Union Arts one might be potentially more rad than the lame $60 reconstructed t-shirt usual because South Union Arts is strangely isolated, special and fardled. So I am letting you know.
also, the next day, they have this, too:
Sun. Nov. 12 - 7PM - All ages -
::screening "Iraq for Sale"::
Iraq for Sale: The War Profiteers is the story of what happens to everyday Americans when corporations go to war. Acclaimed director Robert Greenwald (Wal-Mart: The High Cost of Low Price, Outfoxed, and Uncovered) takes you inside the lives of soldiers, truck drivers, widows and children who have been changed forever as a result of profiteering in the reconstruction of Iraq. Iraq for Sale uncovers the connections between private corporations making a killing in Iraq and the decision makers who allow them to do so.
What else I had to say about the new Portastatic from this week's Chicago Reader, America's finest fine thing.
1. A psychedelic records club!. So you don't give a shit about Carlos Giffoni or Ariel Pink or Keith Emerson Whitman Buckminster Fuller IV, but still there is opp. in this for you. Every eteched one sides album in the series comes with free artwork sent in by whomever. Put yr art into the world with a surprise--visit the website to get details on where and how to send yr arts for inclusion.
2. 826 Chi still really needs volunteers and tutors. M-Th 3-ish until 5:30, you help lil' minis with their homework. Nothing hard, just like, math work sheets and writing. They finish their work and then you draw or play Battleship with them; you have not known fun til you play cards against ultra competitive 7 year olds. I do it 2x a month. Maybe you have a free Thursday once a month. They also need people for classroom-visits and workshops during the days and eves. Go to the link and email them about volunteering. Help unruin the adults of the future by lending some time and attention.
3. RAD HALLOWEEN SHOW!
October 31st @ The Fort (1829 S. 54th AVE.Cicero, IL(you can get there
on the pink line) myspace.com/rockthefort
Ice Cage (myspace.com/icecage)
Des Ark (Des Ark is the best!)
Physics of Meaning
$5, Costume party
4. RAD FRIDAY FUNDRAISER
This Friday Mr. City hosts The Coughs and Bird Names and 2 more TBA for a fundraiser for the newspaper THE SKELETON, which is a circular coming out of Pilsen with a staff of 40 that includes some of the great comics and writers of this city, though the only one I know for sure is Al Burian and some Bird Names and Coughs people. Anyhow $5. Coughs and Bird Names at MR. City, the #1 name in elusive downtown warehouse spaces. I don't know the address, it's buy the street where all the meat wholesalers are, head south on Halsted or Ashland, sniff hard and you will find the trail. Look for a ton of bikes locked up. Listen for a sweet and clangorous din. You will know.
$1000 a pop for some crabapple trees is kind of a lame deal if you ask me. Plus, if 158,000 people came to Lollapalooza and paid for just the one-day-pass, that is still about 10 million dollars. 600,000$ for a bunch of trees is practically giving it away for free. Further beautifying one of the nicest parks in the city is pretty uninspired. Why not put it towards some playgrounds, or installing grass that is actually alive in Humboldt Park, or dredging up body parts from those swampy ponds? Or get a crew of 6 people at $50,000 to go around to every park in the city and pick up broken glass with special vaccums every day for the next year and then put the rest towards a field house, a bunch of soccer balls and a new zamboni for whatever filthy ice rink needs it. Free wack-a-mole games would be better than expensive trees.
Suggestion advisory: Adler Planetarium. Mons & Tues it's free. The little movies about Egyptian astronomy etc are $, but the movie you do get for free is in 3-D and is photos from the Mars Rover. At the beginning you go "flying through space" and it appears that galaxy-parts are zooming off the screen to bonk you in yr noggin--way more realistic than I was expecting. The rest is mostly goofy hands on stuff for 3rd grade field trippers, but there are moon rocks and meteors and fascinating facts about black holes to learn. That, plus souvenier penny pressing machines = totally worth the 75 cents we spent on parking.
Supertalent Shayla Hason is having an art sale! Shayla won an arts residency, but needs to raise $ in order to be able to do what she needs to do at the residency, which is develop and print many pictures of the Rock N Roll Girls Camp for her forthcoming photobook about the camp. There is no part of that equation that is not excitingly worthwhile. Plus, you know what is also neat? Her work is available from $17 on up. A STEAL. A great way to start or bolster your art collection affordably, or perhaps get started on yr holiday shopping early. What says "baby/dad/friend--I love you" like
pictures of The Decemberists playing Rock Camp?
portraits of rural life in Canada?
Or how about
pictures of industry in Shanghai? This picture is 11x17 and framed and going for $120-- you can't even get a picture-framed for less than that!. Think about how the very special crafter in your life would love this; this yarn pile is like crafter-porno.
So, get to it. Buy that picture of the topless girl getting chased by the dog, or Betsy in the tree, or little girls tuning their guitars. Help Shayla live her dream and make a book that will change lives. CHANGE. LIVES.
Morgan is back from Marakesh. Finally.
Time for a new band together, this time a country and western band called The Meatballs. This is the cover of our debut cassingle-- Friendship Bridge.
We went to a forest preserve called "Forest Preserve"; it was classy.
We had a picnic and she brought Moroccan type food. The thing we sat on is an multi-purpose Moroccan item, though she says it's name in Arabic translates as "towel".
In this thicket, we saw a young buck and it was so big I screamed. Deer are beautiful, but can also be frightening.
Babys first marathon. I'm so proud. WHOOOO!
The Girl Monster Comp Ana Da Silva wrote about is out as of this week, stateside. 3 disc, 3.5 hour run down of music made by women "since the 70s"
No one beeeleeeved me in 2005, but it's true again: The new Portastatic album is one of the 10 best albums of the year. Mac is on a tear. No one is making records about what he is making records about--getting older, being a dad, being a husband, being an American--the frustrations, the challenge, the wonder inherent to it all. It's honest in a way that sets it entirely outside of (male) rock idiom. Plus, the solos are twins to Green Mind-era Mascis; molten. It's the ninth P-static record and maybe you gave up on Mac somewhere round "Driveway to Driveway", but seriously, you can come back. It's mellow stakes, neutral palette orchestral-americana, but it's such a treat to listen hard to someone who knows how to do what they do best.
As payback for doing the monster amount of dirty dishes I created by roasting 12 lbs of sweet potatoes, I drew Matt a shirt.
"Seashells & Money 2007" is a concept base/lifestyle ideal I am suggesting for the new year. It's self-explanitory, but it's open ended. You can use it however you like. I am filesharing my idea with you because I'm like that. Start thinking--2007 is just aroound the corner.
Secondly, I know the entire span of your concern is alocated towards Madonna's adoption, but please listen to me for a sec, because I have some news that is totally official. I have a book coming out. It's a book of my non writing arts. It "drops" in mid 2007 on the Teardrops book imprint. It's entitled Old Tymey Time, The Land Of The Oldest Time.
I found the cable for the camera and so now I can show you my most prized wooden possession:
A headless giraffe almost as tall as me.
Told you you'd be jealous. Plus, when you look at it, it whistles the whistling part from "Big Chief".
Last night, I filled in doing someone elses job. In the process I stared into the moist eyes of America and they were blank, slick black gleam of a dead sort of nothing; it is worse than I thought. Fact: Imperviousness is a privilege right at 14-24. I racked up 100 reasons never to leave the house again. Sick shit America listing at #1.
All I imagined over and over was blackout drunk boys and slackened faced long blondes waking up and clumbsily peeling off each other, gingerly adhesed by booze sweat, by the hundred-dozen.
My review of Coughs Secret Passage from this weeks Chicago Reader & Pro Shop.
It just started fucking snowing. There are lil snows on the green leaves of the tree I spy from the window. This is so unfair.
In light of Tokion confirming a lone woman on their entire multi-day CREATIVITY NOW conference, gallerist and bloggerist, Jen Bekman has started a list with links and suggestions for anyone who needs to find a now-creative woman in America for any panel, conference or resourcing. That list is readable here
and PS. Doesn't it feel kind of dark ages that a list w/ links feels strangely radical? May I suggest that 2007 be about knitting feminist art networks ever tighter, if it wasn;t already part of the to-do?
Does anyone in the bay/SF zone wanna help me out and pick up 60-odd copies of my sweet YE OLDE HIT IT OR QUIT IT super fanzine from Revolver, drop some at Lost Weekend and then take it upon yrself to find a home or use with with rest? Like put them in the free publication zone at the front of a record store or feminist collective meeting hall, or have them free with admission at yr next show or whatnot, for example. You could also take all the covers off of them and make a flashy avante garde wall paper of Miranda July's head alternating with Craig Finn's head. You could sell them on the corner for alls I care (serious), I just don't wanna see them go the way of the trash can, which would just be criminal. In exchange for this favor I can offer $20 or THE BEST MIX CD 2 DISC SET YOU WILL FIND IN GOD'S FREE AMERICA, with a special hand sewn cover.
Juana Molina bit for the Tribune. My favorite part is the end-cap of Amy Phillips quote where she turns into Edward Said for a split second.
"What Up The Fuck?!"
Via my partner in crafts, Robin:Tokion fails to get any women on it's Creativity Fest thing and subsequent fall out , unravelling via blog comment hollaback. I am baffled baffledtron 3000 about this, despite it being art-scene patriarchy plays by the book, but so they approached 20-some famous art star ladies (Miranda, Cindy, Ms. Lee) about participating and none of em can do it--so rather than going further down the list, they gave up. The Tokion honcho, Ken, then rebuts and says "well, if we invited a bunch of women now, we'd just be tokenizing them"--which is funny because
a. like there are only 20 women on the art world a-team and the rest (anyone sub Carolee Schneemann) are some way 'sunder farm team with no genuine value or nothing to say and she'd just be getting invited cuz she's a girl (which says more about Tokion than it does whatever woman they'd invite).
B. like any woman in any creative field doesn't spend 9 whole hours a day being a token/the odd one out already--not to speak on any other lady artists behalf, but for me, it's so NOT a big deal because it is fundamentally part of the deal, it is USA Patriarchy c. 2006. That is not to say I wouldn't really like/love/always hope it will be different.
c. Not having women be 50+% of anything that operates as survey of the art world is not only LAME, but it is also prescriptive. When I was a 15 year old feminist who spent every free dollar on records and went to every show I could get in to, I never thought about being in a band myself until I saw bands with women in them. Maybe it was my lack of wit or gumption, but when I saw Bloodline or Melvins or Jesus Lizard or Jonestown--I never thought "Me too." thoughts. Those only came once I saw Babes in Toyland, SMUT, Psuedonymphs, Bikini Kill and Scissor Girls. Who knows if girls out there are gonna get a "Me too." from a Jason Lee keynote. Word?
d. "Scheduling issues" is not a valid excuse for only having 2 or 3 women participating, even if the shit was happening on Xtreme Talibans Only island, not in New York Fucking City, where you cannot step foot out of yr 5 story walk up with out eating the dust of some passing industrious DIY woman who is simultaneously crochetting, tagging yr building, blogging and making a documentary about it all. PLEASE.
Vis a vis the emo-wave that will not die: Overwrought, sternly earnest and sentimental to death is a given--it's it's nature as well as it's parameter. But really. Reading the myspace comments for reunited Texas is Reason (2nd reunion show just added) and the ORAL HISTORY OF HOT WATER MUSIC in the new ish of AP (I know these are abstractions, not ness. part of "real" culture in most gr'up eyes)-- are valued exclusively for the romance of the was that they facilitate--and idea emo/hxc taught to it's second and third gens. It's not (just) nostalgia, it's the old generation's attemtped forstalling of the future, a blockade of inevitable: one day this precious time that spanned our teens and twenties will be forgotten, even by us, even by the people who are buying Braid singles for $26 on eBay. There is no way to even out the disparity, at this point, between the ones that inspired the eem and the ones that got rich off of ripping off their heroes: Pete Wentz is paying an LA condo mortgage and getting model pussy off bastardized Cap'n Jazz riffs from 14 years ago, so boo-hoo. Reading of these comebacks and these deaths that refused to die, it's like sitting next to a bunch of sauced vets belly up to the VFW hall bar, recounting the time they were in the shit. Except in this case, it's not a foxhole in Korea, it's a van in central Florida, it's seven-inches, it's the major they had too much integrity to sign to. Things that were boring in the first place.
I remember reading an interview with Exene about 10 years ago, when she was promoting her Auntie Christ record on Lookout. She was complaining that she never got her due and that kids today were just making garbage noise, ripping X off pitifully, ad naus--the typical bitter tyrade. But it was ridiculous: X had lasted a decade, made half a dozen odd records, she was being afforded a record deal based on what she was then versus now, and her complaints made it seem like she didn't understand the basic constructs of fame or time: it doesn't get to last forever. History comes along and washes most of what you have done away. "Cheap imitators" will reap your glory--and as is often the case, that's not a bad thing.
Guess who is special to the Tribune?
Me, that's who.
My inaugural bit for America's sixth largest newspaper, ladies and germs.
I know some of you fair readers will be pumped to know about such a band as Shondes: radical trans/queer Yiddish/feminist bent quartet from Brooklyn. With a violin. And an "about the band" page that is hardly shy of manifesto.
This thing about the UK Charts Whomever dot org going cockblock on Beck's album and not allowing him to chart because his album is so special it gives him unfair advantage over everyone else BECAUSE IT COMES WITH EXTRA JUNK AND SPECIAL STICKERS. Only in an alternate universe where Lisa Frank is the ayatollah are stickers that imporant. Seriously.
I totally missed this, and chances are you did too. Tim Kinsella did an Op-Ed in Alternative Press's August issue urging every band inside to break up. From what I understand, the people that wrote back were famousish nu-school emo-tauntes (Max Bemis, Saves the Day, people with mortgages paid by emo's devil wages et al.) who just accused Tim of being bitter because he's in "an unsuccessful run of the mill mathy emo band." Which would be true if Tim was in, say, Rise Against, not Joan of Arc. They also called him, in total english-language one adult speaking to another seriousness "a self-hating emophobe". Lord almighty on a cracker... the future of music that shall be reaped from now-emo's example makes my blood run cold. Colder.
PS. Despite having something like a 60% female readership, AP has not put a woman on the cover since...maybe a year and a half? Two years? See also: "hidden hand of power" mentioned below.
Anyhow, Kinsella's thing, culled avec typos from the AP reader board--
Beirut. The Patriot Act. Palestine. Africa. Wal-Mart. Clear Channel. Peak oil. Global devastation. The backward talk of those in power that dominates and suffocates our cultural discourse. Overpopulation. The dawning of neo-feudalist Theocracy in America. It's a busy, interesting place we've got here. Lots of information aimed at us. The hidden hand of power.
But beyond our control, dark energy, string theory, conceptions of an infinite mutiverse render any issues of free obsolete. We are really only allowed questions. WE can't understand anything. How could we? We live at the lip of the bubble of understanding of our own designs - never not curious, and never able to poke through.
So my point - I do have one - is that in our world, the most basic requirement we share is kep in balance only if it's shaken in many directions at the same time. And what can any of us do to help rectify the situation? We must integrate our politics into our lifestyle, acknowledge that every bridge, hook, melody and sales strategy has political demensions.
In short, I am asking that every band that appeared in the August 2006 issue of Alternative Press break up.
Despearte times require desperate measures. There's no good reason why "ex-rockstar" shouldn't be the most common job in the future. It's obvious from flipping through an issue of this magazine that there are too many bands, all trying in different ways to look and sound like each other. It's unsustainable. Why don't you guys all save yourself the inevitable worry and humiliation the future holds, break up now, and be the first mass movement in cutural history to self-consciously commit suicide?
There are pictures of maybe half a dozen people in that issue that I know, trust, respect and consider my friends. And I'm sorry to ask this of you guys, some of yo uhave helped us in the past, and I appreciate it, but our country needs you. Your bands have to break up. You guys on the cover (one of you was 13 in 2001, so you're now at draft age), we need you to quit.
Even you guys that just had a thumbnail band photo in an ad, sorry. Collateral damage, I guess. However you each choose to understand it, let's all agree we need to draw the line clearly. Every band whose name is even mentioned in the August 2006 issue of AP must break up immediately. So, Cute Is What We Aim For, consider your new aim ansering the call of our country. Underoath, pledge allegiance to the freedom of your fellow citizens. Circa Survive, you ran an add, and I'm sorry, that's enough. You must not survive.
I know this seems like a bummer to you guys, but think about it. Throughout history, music has been at the center of every culture. Music is what people have always had between them to help each other understand how to live. The values of a culture are hiddin within its music. And I dont mean that in a Christian-rock or straight-edge way. I mean our culture is not only sick, but its taking the whole world down with it, and its symptoms are in song structures and rituals of performance.
The simplistic, sensational, emotionalistim of soaring crescendos - whose success or failure relate only to how familiar they seem on first listen - must become tired and redundant by design. When you reach your saturation point and can no longer react to these octave chords' urgent demands, then what? Will all displays of emotion seem silly? Mustn't it be true, like the boy who cried wolf, that every feigned-spontaneous emotional signifier thrust upon you by some band will just deaden your sense of empathy in the future? Perhaps even in a real-world situation, with real-world consequences? If TV and reality can be so interwined, past signifiers of rebellion is rebellion, and this is punk rock, why not?
Don't the sensationalist requirements of vicarious catharsis ask so much, that our empathy will be spent before it ever has a chance to blossom? I mean, I might not be able to understand when someone is hurting - and in turn know how to help them - if my formative experiences with understanding emotions is via these fashionable men and women.
But it's not too late. If the bands break up, maybe we can have music again in the future, and we will be able to hear it for what it is - not what it's being sold as.
I know this is a lot to ask of bands. And no one 22-year-old New Jersey kid is to blame - it's the design that is flawed. But one can't stay quiet. One has a responsibility to stand up for what one sees as god and right in the world, and if my plea can make a difference in even one young band's life - if just one band breaks up - my work here will have been worth it.
10. "Don't Ask My Neighbors" - The Emotions (stepper set classic--the music doesn't match the topic: an erotosmooth do-me/step to the plate dude holler, so strange and lite, it's at once static and floating away, like a kleenex from a tissue kozy-house chimney)
9. Whatever the first track on the Indian Jewelry record is called (seriously fuct)
8. Whatever the third track on the Indian Jewelry record is called (totes-thousand)
7. "Gay Sons of Lesbian Mothers" - Kaki King (J. McEntire sometimes catches some heat for overpowering quiet/accoustic gtrists he accompanies (ie. those Buckner albs, Jandek) but here he Tortoisizes Kaki in a way that makes the song more delicate. S'pretty.)
6. "Living Proof" de Kelis (or as everyone in Chica-go says "Key-less")
5. "Got to get away" - Dave Barker (sounding a too current-events relevent note)
4. "What You Know" - TI (four times in a row still never enough, the cheese line makes me think about the "Who Moved My Cheese?" mgmt books they sell at Kinkos, but I'll leave that parallel for Greil)
3. "Little House of Savages" -The Walkmen (tenser by the verse, rippin!)
2. "Jackie Blue" - Ozark Mountain Daredevils (I saw Pfork are doing a countdown through the sixties*(1)(2) and if they work their way up to the 70's and this song isn't in the top ten, a. they are lying and b. it's because the entire staff was born in the 80's.)
1. "Our House (Papa)" - International Pony from Boogy Bytes/Sascha Funke edition (I.Pony is what Jr. Boys are going for and missing by a Canadian mile (kilometer w/e)--minimal tech with the emotional resonance of say, TV On The Radio -- HEAVY.)
(* insert total bafflement)
((1) see also "the vh-1-ing of music criticism")
((2) destroy all heirarchy)
(ps. that includes this list)
Do you remember that Bikini Kill interview forever ago where they asked Kathleen her influences and she said the 14 women killed in their classroom in Montreal. I kept thinking of that last week after Colorado, angry that a surviving girls mom speculated that the dead girl "got it worse" to the media, just angry on top of sad.
And then there is this.
Which feels too awful to comprehend, and is a feeling only to be met with firm, basic foxhole style praying.
Walking down the street and being out in the world, the fear is always with you, a little, some, that someone will get you. When you get older, the fear become more acute, and "get" becomes "rape".
But I never feared when I was in school.
I never feared I would be raped and killed in my classroom.
Ken Vandermark has no friends. Are out jazzers not on Myspace? What gives?
I wish I had a little ship and some wide brimmed hats.
Over the weekend, I finished the short story collection of Francine Prose Women and Children First, and I finished it in no time at all. All I knew of Ms. Prose was The Lives Of The Muses which I read about three years ago at a time of emotionally shakiness and it plum tore my mind apart with inspiration and anger; it is also good to see Lou Andreas-Salome get a fair backstory. Anyhow, the short story collection is solid and after I read the first four or five stories, I started wondering "Why do all these women have gardens, husbands who are around and live in Vermont where they smoke joints and make art?"-- Because the book was written in 1973. That free-spirited woman n' her fam'bly idyll is a noticably strange story line for the recovery-narratives/emotional gross-outs and fall outs of 2006's fiction stee. I think the sixth chapter of The Diviners, where that lady is collecting up 100 hot donuts to barf, officially burnt me on victim lit. I got tired of authors using emotional depravity alone to shock you in caring about characters.
Anyhow again, Francine Prose, s'real good book, and I'd recommend it. It's about to be winter, and you gotta stock up for when you cannot go outside. I know the high is a magical 82 today, I don't mean to spoil it with cold talkin'.
PS. Doesn't reading about the new Woodward book give you a gratifying tingle?