Ridiculosity is moving.
I’ll be shutting down the operations for the next week or so while I revamp and relocate this site to greener pastures. I’ve always had a specific vision in my head for what I wanted the blog to look like, and as much as I love WordPress, the free-hosted WordPress.com just wasn’t powerful enough for me. Luckily, I found a killer deal on some hosting and I’m moving up to WordPress.org. What’s great is it allows me to use more sleek and professional looking themes, and the huge amount of plug-in customization means I can finally implement many of the things I want to do.
The site will end up being broken into small pieces, hopefully with the blog itself separated from the photo galleries, but all accessible through a sidebar portal that looks very sexy, if I don’t say so myself. I’m still working on it, but I expect to have it up and running by Sunday…not finished, mind you, because I’m a perfectionist and it’s going to take weeks for me to get it exactly how I want it.
There will also be a brand new address, but the current web address will work. The old “pure ridiculousness” address will be out of commission in a few weeks though.
I’m really interested in social networking integration. Look for a new Twitter feed and a Facebook page all wrapped nicely into the Ridiculosity shell. It’s going to be quite the experience.
See you in a week.
In lieu of my weekly weigh-in (which, you may recall, is being skipped this week as a result of my massive gluttony over the weekend), I think I’ll just ramble about stuff. You might want to leave before it gets ugly.
My birthday was pretty awesome. Sarah threw me a surprise party (and bought me some Jameson). My parents gave me a Nook, which is one of the coolest things since the iPod. I started reading Stephen King’s “Under the Dome.” They also gave me some beer, which was a nice added bonus (Philadelphia Brewing Walt Wit and Williamsburg Alewerks Coffeehouse Stout). Then there were some much-needed clothes and some much appreciated birthday-spending-fodder. And some Simpsons DVDs.
The Super Bowl Commercials were pretty enjoyable overall. I don’t know who won the Super Bowl, even though I was at a party where the game was on. We ended up having to leave a little early though as the little one crashed and couldn’t hang anymore. I’m still a little haunted by the Doritos commercial with the guy licking the other guy’s fingers. Transformers 3 made me drool.
On a business note, there may be some changes coming around here in the form of either A) new, small features and tweaks, B) a brand new website or C) some combination of the two. I’m currently readying Facebook integration. The site seems to have modestly “taken off” recently and I want to see where I can take it. If you have suggestions of what you’d like to see here, drop me a note, or a smoke signal or some sort of telepathic message. Thanks.
Ok, you’ve been punished enough.
The White Stripes broke up yesterday.
You’re forgiven if that doesn’t exactly come as a surprise, considering that Jack White’s name hasn’t been used in conjunction with ex-wife Meg in at least a couple of years. Between producing records and playing in about 37 other bands, collaborating with Alicia Keys and appearing in guitar documentaries (watch It Might Get Loud, it’s superb), Jack White has been everything but The White Stripes. And for the most part, that was ok. The Raconteurs and The Dead Weather are both fantastic blues-infused bands, but with the exception of “Level” by the Raconteurs, these bands haven’t exactly reached the heights that The White Stripes conquered in the early 2000s. White Blood Cells and Elephant were mammoth albums that brought garage rock and blues to the masses. Not since the early days of the Stones has blues music been at the forefront of rock.
It’s comforting to think about the recent commercial successes of The Black Keys, possibly The White Family’s closest musical brethren. Can they carry the blues flag? One could argue that without The White Stripes, we wouldn’t be hearing Black Keys songs on the radio or television commercials. They were, and still are, pioneers and architects of the dirty, low-fi garage blues duos that play direct homage to classic Chicago blues, and they will be missed.
For sure, their departure leaves a huge, regrettable hole in the blues’ modern identity that will be tough to fill.
For posterity, here they are covering Son House’s “Death Letter.” It’s my favorite modern re-interpretation of a blues song.
This story I either hate or love, depending on my mood at the time. It originally started out as this supernatural X-Files-style story but now I consider it a sort of “Secret Government” X-Files thing. It began with a “what’s it like to die” idea, and I think Allen does kind of “die” in the end and becomes a better man because of it. Either that or I’m a hack and the story is pointless. Take your pick, you could make a case for either. Story after the break.
Ok, so the string of snow storms apparently wasn’t enough. It was so icy this morning that my car was frozen shut and the sidewalks were so slippery I literally just stood there and slid to the parking lot on my shoes. There was a slight downward plane, so it was actually kind of easy. Luckily for me, immediately after I declared my inability to go to work, they called and informed me they were closed for the day. At least it made for a few good photos of the trees right outside my front door. I thought about going inside to get my camera but I was afraid of being attacked by a Tauntaun so I just used my phone.
Don’t say I didn’t warn you…
“Don’t Carry It All”…performed live on NPR by The Decemberists.
Question: what exactly is that huge, long-scaled mandolin lookin’ thing in the back there? I thought it was an octave mandolin but I think the neck is too long for it to be one of those. My other guess is a bouzouki. Thoughts?
Also, Colin Meloy makes funny faces that rival John Mayer’s.