R.I.P. 2001 Ford Mustang

Can't we let it go? I did. Hell, I said my final goodbye's to the car on Wednesday. I actually shed one tear for the Mustang when I handed the keys over to the Dodge dealership after I unceremoniously stripped the XM Radio & K&N FIPK kit off the car, but so many people I know still:

1. Can't believe I traded in my dream car
2. Bought something smaller than the Mustang
3. Bought something that wasn't a convertible, OR one of the new Mustangs...

I am starting to get straggles of friends coming up to me wondering why I am driving what looks like a rental. The response is always the same, wide-eyed expression & incomprehensible understanding of why I would even think of getting rid of the car. I had always said that I never knew who got more pleasure out of the Mustang, me, or everyone else.

Well, its time to move on. I am satisfied knowing that I owned my dream car, and unlike the Chevrolet/ Pontiac Camaro / Firebird, the Mustang will keep going. There will always be a Mustang, so it will always be on my list of cars to buy. I think its time everyone else lets the Mustang Rev In Peace. May she serve her next owner as well as she served me.

New Car

*With updated content*


Meet my new ride. A 2005 Dodge Neon SXT. Fully loaded. Signed the papers today. Its the number one reason for a lack of updates.

As is customary for my cars, I am having a small contest to name the car. It's officially called Clunker 9 by my parents (long story) but starting with the first car I ever drove on a regular basis, I have always given a name to my cars.

• 1979 Chevrolet El Caminio - Tin Foil
• 1991 Pontiac Sunbird - Bluebonnet
• 1999 Chevrolet Cavalier - Sara
• 2001 Ford Mustang - Sally

I am trying to figure out what to name the new Neon. So, I take it to you, the loyal (HA!) readers of Blank Media to help name the car. Some recent ideas have been:

• Agent Orange
• Toast
• Germaine
• Julius/ Julia
• *UPDATED* Penny (I like this one...)
  

Rather... interesting to say the least. Any ideas?

HUGE change to my driving habits

I will post more about it today sometime. Its the reason I haven't been updating a lot lately...

Even after the glitter fades

*NUDITY WARNING*

I think I am trying to recover brain cells from this weekends little camping excursion, because I started to wander online (unlike the Strange Findings updates) and found some rather interesting and disturbing facts about everyone's favorite actor or musician.

Star Wars has been in the media more times than I care to listen. Have we forgotten some of our old favorites while being awed by the stellar outrageously over-the-top visual effects that seem to have eclipsed the original movies? I kinda think that's what Billy Dee Williams is feeling like has happened to the movies, his career & life. Maybe his second job makes him happy. He's a painter. He calls his paintings 'Abstract Reality', all I see is his attempt to cash in on a role he once played. I had browsed his online galleries to see if I couldn't find some Star Wars-inspired Blacksploitation collage, but didn't. You kinda expect something like that looking at his art.

I just can't fathom Mr. Blonde sitting down in a coffee shop, surrounded by beatniks and rapping about society in general without blowing some freakin' heads off of someone. Alas, Michael Madsen, we now know the scope of your talents. While reading an excerpt from his latest book of scribe to jive by, I realized that (just like B.D. Williams described above) he is taking his life of film into his form of art and just - I don't know how to explain it, its either recapping his career or its gloating over his films, and it detracts from his ultimate conclusion.

Oh, where to begin. Chubby Checker, the early 60's answer to a question that was asked way too many times about a stupid dance that could carry one's career farther than the Macarena and easier to dance. The one dance the stupidest of shit-heads couldn't fuck up, Chubby Checker was able to get rhythm-less white guys & gals to look like they were over-snuffing a cigarette while thinking they looked "cool" or "hip". His merciless recycling of a song that should have been a one-hit wonder spawned Slow Twisting, Twist it Up, Let's Twist Again (Like We Did Last Summer), Twistin' USA, Twist the Doorknob, Twist my Nipples like You're Tuning in Paul Harvey - You get the idea. He's got fucking food named after that Goddamned song! Worse yet, he has a fucking semi truck called The Cherckerlicious Express! Good -fucking-God!

"Chubby and food have always been very close, from his
early roots in the South Philadelphia chicken markets to the present as a self-proclaimed "barbecue guru". Chubby has finally decided to join his many admirers in selling a little part of himself."

What part is he selling? Is it in the beef jerky? I seriously hope not!

Et, tu Spock? I have to admit one thing, Leonard Nimoy is an excellent photographer. His eye for his subject is admirable (even though he was a Captain - Star Trek humor...) but remind me too much of Star Trek IV. There's just something majestic about photographing whales.

Murder on Music Row

No, it wasn't me this time. I am referring to a great country music song sung by George Strait & Alan Jackson. The song chronicles the death of traditional country music to songs that seem to be rejects of pop & AC music stations. It's one of those songs that drifted under the radar back in 2000 when George Strait released his greatest hits album, but damn well worth listening to. I couldn't find a decent link to give to have you listen to it, so if you are out and about at a music superstore, make sure you listen to this song.

I think, however, I can pinpoint the exact moment that country music started to slip away from its roots and into the dark side.


*the culprit

Shania Twain was one of the first women in the industry to rebel against traditional country music and (with the help of her rock & roll producer husband Mutt Lange) started the decline in country music that we hear today.

I grew up listening to country music. I don't tell many people that because as of late, early country music was thought of as something for the older generation to listen to. I grew up on Johnny Cash, Barbara Mandrell, Dolly Parton & Charley Pride. Ronnie Milsap cassette tapes were more times than often strewn around a car at one point or another and one of my first LP's I bought was an Alan Jackson album.

Thanks to Imus in the Morning, we have a whole new realm of country music debauchery to deal with. Cowboy Troy is the newest and latest entry in a growing crowd of country music wanna-be's making their crappy voice known to the public. He is a bonafide country artist, sad to say. One listen to his "Hic-Hop" music will make you listen to Murder on Music Row and shed a tear.