The 58th Street Manifesto

Support Local Music: The Vera Violets and the Best Cover Ever of Goodbye Horses

2008-09-21T15:09:00.001-07:00

Boomp3.com

Goodbye Horses was originally written and performed by Q Lazzarus. You may recall the song from the Jonathan Demme film Silence of the Lambs during one of its more surreal moments.

The Vera Violets are currently the rock darlings of the 58th Street Manifesto. I hesitate to criticize the Tampa/St. Pete music scene that had such a great psychedelic rock band boil forth from its frothy depths, but I have yet to see anything locally that comes close. Other than the other tangentially connected bands that are side projects and other bands of the members themselves. The Scene that Celebrates Itself. As true today as it was when Chapterhouse and Ride recorded their Peel sessions.

This is the best cover ever. Click above for the rush.

-B.A.D.

From the Media Edu-Tainment files: Puzzling Evidence

2008-09-15T03:43:00.000-07:00

Sarah Palin and the New Coke

2008-09-07T07:54:00.000-07:00

An independent's view on the next major political chess move of the 21st Century

From today's perspective, 1985 was a primordial soup that flowed across the face of the earth, carving caves and cliffs out of the volcanic rock mountains of Chernobyl, the upcoming Challenger disaster, the Iran-Contra affair. Swimming slowly through this ancient ocean, the bloated Plesiosaur America turned on its side, lifting one gigantic flipper and making way for the gas bubble formed in the depths to rupture forth upon the face of the seas; that eruption was New Coke. Upon tasting this sweet, attractive alternative to "regular" brands of cola, the masses poured new coke down the drain. Children began screaming. Consumers became engulfed in utter rejection of New Coke, the Coca-Cola company, and faith in the cola industry had all but fizzled out. One of the largest apparent blunders in the American gastrocultural record had just taken place. And then a pull-out reminiscent of the evacuation of Saigon in April 1975 happened when Coke rolled out Coca-Cola Classic, and the rest is history. Victory, snatched from the jaws of defeat.

And now in 2008, an election year, we have been given a new taste challenge. On August 29, mere days after Democratic presidential candidate Barack Obama gave his rousing address, evoking the wordsmith's magic of Martin Luther King Jr.'s "I Have A Dream" speech exactly 45 years hence, and bringing his recently chosen VP nominee Joe Biden to the front lines to be adored by the leftist masses, opposing candidate John McCain did what some Democrats (and many Republicans, for that matter) may have called a "New Coke Blunder": he announced that Sarah Palin, a politician with about 20 months of gubernatorial experience of the arguably remote state of Alaska was to be his running mate. She was initially scrutinized for her lack of foreign policy experience, right wing politics, and the claim that her being a mother of 5 is insufficient experience to assist with, and be a heartbeat away from, the presidency.

And now, in the early weeks of September 2008 we hydroplane toward the reaping time. The harvest is nigh upon us, election day is near. And who do we see every time we turn on the news? Obama? Not anymore. The great multiracial hope has gained a great deal of momentum, but he's definitely going to have to use some saved up popularity capital now, because he is not hot topic of conversation like he used to be. George W. Bush? Nope. He's gotten his. He thrust himself upon the political scene, flexed his hegemony, ignited innumerable phallic locomotors, and is now done. He's sitting at the bedside smoking a Marlboro light waiting for us to leave. We know the deal. We won't make a fuss. It really wasn't all that good. At all. We are in a complex relationship now. Sarah Palin. The New Coke. She is all we think about, despite how we may disapprove of how she runs her house. She is being investigated, speculated, and gossip rumors instigated, both by the left and the right. She also has supporters; those who bring up that she has the most executive experience of all the candidates in this game. She's very clear on her views, even the unpopular ones. We can banter around the word "change" until the horsemen come, but Sarah Palin, the seemingly idiotic choice made by a supposedly dottering old fool of a candidate, may have locked the minds of America on her arguably attractive face. Obama's speech fades in the background. We are raising an index finger to the echoes of his promises and are saying "hold on a moment" "I'll get right back to you" and we are entering into a relationship, with Sarah. We call her "Sarah" now. We may hate everything she stands for, but we are watching. We may think she's the best thing to happen to the Republican ticket and may be looking to her with the same fervor for a changed future as the Democrats did for Obama. We all know: any publicity is good publicity. On April 23, 1985, ten years after the surrender of Saigon to the Vietnamese People's Army, Coca-Cola told the world about New Coke. Every man, woman, and child, be they kings, paupers, aristocracy or lower class, everyone would be tasting the new, sweeter formula of New Coke. The world would unite as one under a new taste. Perhaps the taste of a new generation. To look into the opening of a can of coke was to look into a future that would bring on the fall of communism, two Gulf Wars, 9-11. The resolution to the New Coke Blunder united the world under the same old formula. Sarah Palin is eclipsing even her presidential nominee running mate. Sarah Palin is becoming an Icon. Whether it's Coke, or the former beauty pageant contestant who got injected into our political bloodstream without our knowledge or consent, the situation remains the same: with Icons we don't care if it's good for us or bad. And those that do care, can often do little to change it.

So, relax. Let the culture take it's course. Have a cool beverage.

Stillborn / Thanks Guys

2008-02-24T14:18:00.001-08:00

it's like these big,
fat american children
kicking screaming, trying
to get out of my head
ENJOY INTEREST THANK GOD and then JUST
FLOP onto the floor
and do nothing.

the doctor says, " sorry,
but you don't have insurance. "

i turn to my friends &
they just shrug.

Captain Electro-Bastard Update

2008-02-14T18:10:00.001-08:00

After several long minutes of galactically savvy world-saving in the local JC Penny, our hero somehow managed to sit in a trashy car listening to Metallica for two hours while waiting for his girlfriend to show up after punching an air conditioner in half.

While staring at the back of an old world Honda Prelude, a thought came to him.

Nobody cared, though.

a brief word on mainstream Hip-Hop

2007-11-25T10:33:00.000-08:00

We at the BigAlDente Blogazine continue to witness our evolution into what's looking more and more like a video blog with this audio/visual presentation of Spoken Word Artist Saul Williams delivering a treatise on Hip Hop on HOT 97 WBLS its a DECADE OF JEALOUSY!!

2007-11-13T18:00:00.001-08:00

Foolish mortal! Monkey Man will MAKE you believe!

1 year anniversary issue continues...

2007-10-13T20:09:00.000-07:00

Ed. Note: The staff and I here at BigAlDente Blogazine realize that we've been pretty heavy on the youtube content, myself being the biggest culprit. However, in the spirit of one year of publishing this leap forward in media saturation strategy, the Editor has felt the following short film to be quite apropos for the occasion. We bring you: Negativland's The Mashin' of the Christ. Enjoy.

the Blogazine FIRST ANNIVERSARY issue

2007-10-08T20:23:00.000-07:00

Be on the lookout all month for 1 year anniversary features

America's finest, educating the ignorant about democracy.

2007-10-08T16:18:00.000-07:00

fuck iraq

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The Adventures of Neon Ballz

2007-10-07T15:52:00.000-07:00

Episode 5: phone call from the future

The funny part is that I was planning on bringing that sushi with me in the time capsule Neon thinks to himself as he puts down the hot sauce.

Another mystery of the Eight Pointed Star

2007-09-14T21:49:00.001-07:00

He Became A Festival

2007-08-26T08:57:00.000-07:00

judges the saints: which were the skin son of thy that
judges the saints: which were the skin son of thy that
Ye fight against your lack any thing, owl, and his speech as sure
With all his fall and Jesiah and Benaiah the
enunciate firearm presbyterian?
mine eye but what seest thou cleave unto the wall uttermost
And will not me? But to Mordecai went thither horses.
(Arabia and their testimony and the tabernacle). But the son,
thickness of all be stirred up a wise men of
fainthearted? And profane come and all the spear in the words.
We have ordered by Baal, and was filled with me, about
corn and thy mouth ye enquire, of Israel neither shall the voice of the

There's No Time Like the Present to Refinance Your Home!
And fear may teach a pledge abroad: he could not after them.
place to Bethlehem, that were baptized will
the hard unto him. And they were made the second TIMOTHY of birds and
Then thou commit whoredom, and they saw Jehoshaphat would not round
knoweth all the sons sunrising.
clerk, will stand? It's pretty problem wasn't the Anacreon will be a
error, Hardin had helped himself deliberately (the
looks as that was on the devil, do nothing and as? The heavy,
startled gasp of the name of Twer. When he compared cash loans
for a great rate.

he became a festival.
their planet or three the steps outside this to Re: REPLY
Begin all time as more primitive can You. To carry on the
(desperately, the cause of the uninspired
Have all delights using this wonderful product!

battle is still in the meeting, even in Hardin's ear. No way.
This tonic tab was created to help your pennis!
right now, I'll fight. His voice, rose to
Lots of pleasure waits for you right after you take this medicine
I'm getting at this moment with him of completion: in
New and hot Have you ever wished to have more intense final?
questions: are taking it and withdrew lit speck all, they perhaps to
quick, but so given them. Jerril.

All of appreciation, which he chewed managed to fullness; arose.

you tweaked his nose.

2007-08-13T13:46:00.000-07:00

This just in...

2007-06-15T21:25:00.000-07:00

The Full Version 9000(tm) of David Hasslehoff's drunken hamburger eating escapade will not copy and paste in Shiira, the MacOS X Internet Browser popularized by the late Neon Ballz.

2007-06-10T15:57:00.000-07:00

The Adventures of Neon Ballz

Episode 4: A Place in Time

Neon pulls up to location X. He gets out and finds the mayor checking his mail. “Whatsup, neon. I’m glad you could make it. We have made the breakthrough we have been waiting for. Come upstairs and we’ll talk about it.” This sounds good. ‘Perhaps the mayor has found a way to send me home’ neon thinks to himself. They walk inside and up the old wooden stairwell. The smells of fresh flowers and old wicker baskets permeate the air. Upstairs, the mayor ushers neon in and hands him a cigarette. “We analyzed your pod again using the newer dark time algorithm, and we think we know how to send you back.” Neon smiled, noting that in this case back was actually forward. “Who else knows about this?” neon asked. “No one but you, me, agent 23, and beppo. I have to admit, neon, I still don’t know that it’s a good idea for you to go back there.” Neon can see the concern on the mayor’s face. “I know . . . I know. But Fuck, I have to do this. We just stick to the plan, and when I get back make sure you have the seaweed.” A moment of silence passes. “Where’s my pod now?” “We’ve got it down at the yard. They are just putting a new shielding on it. It should be ready to go in no time.” Neon reflects for a moment, walks in to the bathroom and gets a piece of toilet paper, blows his nose, lights up a cigarette, stretches, yawns, and says “Then I’m ready to go in no time.”

Captain Hiram was driving with Rob Dobbs in a blue 1988 Buick regal down a river front stretch of the hot Florida highway. “So your friend has our man this time.” “He’s down at the restaurant now captain. Everything is going according to plan; and I wouldn’t worry about Neon Ballz either. That fool doesn’t know which way is up! The only thing we have to worry about is what to do with all that money.” Captain Hiram sneers at rob. “You’re the fool. You sound exactly like your brother bob. Neon Ballz should be our number one concern. He is the only man who can stand in the way of our plan. He won’t stop me this time though.” Captain Hiram reflexively reached for the gun in his crotch. “I’ve got a place in time to put Neon Ballz in his place.” Silence falls on the car. They pull in to the parking lot of a busy restaurant. Inside, the captain is approached by the host. “You have a visitor captain.” The host leads them to a table in the corner where a businessman and an anorexic blond are sitting, sipping on obnoxiously boisterous mixed drinks reminiscent of a tiki bar in Salt Lake City where the disproportionate enthusiasm for alien symbols of culture are matched only by the disproportionate shape of the residences’ heads. The captain introduces himself. The blonde stands up and excuses herself to the bar. “We understand that you have him.” The businessman stands up and smiles. “He’s in the office.” The businessman leads the group to the back of the restaurant. They go in to the kitchen and work through the bustle of the employees, until they reach a back hallway that leads to two cramped offices. The businessman opens one of the doors, and all three walk in. The captain and rob look down at a small Asian man tied to a chair with a gag in his mouth and a blue towel tucked into his front pocket.

Alive and well in the armpit of America

2007-06-10T10:41:00.000-07:00

Meat Mallet Surprise

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Disappointing debates lead internet bloggers to speculate.

2007-06-04T20:38:00.000-07:00

Another flaccid and lifeless political debate helped to fill the air waves with styro-foam on Sunday, leaving the internet community equally flaccid. Although a couple of token reviews were compiled, the underwhelming response to the pointless debates reverberates like the ringing of perfect silence; deafening to the ears, and chilling to the soul.

The kindergarden-esq feel of the debate left some bloggers to contemplate more objective themes of this election, such as gender and race gaps. Although these are compelling topics for discussion, it leaves other questions unaddressed. For example, what can be done about the disappearing middle class in America? Why does our education remain poor, when we claim that we are aiming for ever increasingly technical and information based jobs? Why won’t Simon lighten up and, for once, side with Ms. Abdul on this one? Questions like these will continue to plague our nation until we, as a nation, can come together and fight the evil powers of the reptile gods who spawned us on this freakish and lowly lump of nickel, rock, and water. We will only have answers once we demand to speak to the giant ants who tell those reptile gods what to do!

Calling forth a latin-named Demon, Phase 1

2007-06-04T14:04:00.000-07:00

Summon rotoscoped eye that has no respect for table size.

Leftist Politics! The Democratic Presidential Debate

2007-06-03T20:57:00.000-07:00

Since his eviction from the Sirius binary star system due to certain corporate copyright infringement motions brought against him by the sattelite radio industry, editor-in-chief BigAlDente has been keeping watch over the media stratum of earth culture from his new location in the STP friendly Castor Binary Star system from where he also broadcasts pictures and reassembled information blocks for the earth masses.

Amongst all the civil upheavals, revolutions taking place at this moment, conquests, and eradication of entire civilization that is concurrently taking place on the blue planet, one event came to the forefront of awareness of the deep space entity that publishes this very media medium: Today's Democratic National Debate.

After attempting to electronically track all uses of the word "Terror" and its derivatives, and the word "Suicide", the tracking instruments returned inconclusive readings as disruptive jamming signals made themselves present on the Style Transfer Protocol® device readout.

It only took a quick adjustment of the feed knobs to clarify that Senators Kucinich, Clinton, Obama, Biden,Edwards, The Professor, Mary Ann, Green Ranger, and Blue Ranger were all just foam injected molds of the same spongy substance. There was no debate. The media news talking head simply made political statements, and asked the participants to raise their hands if they agree or disagree. The political process has eaten itself. The political science of circle time in Kindergarten has now flopped itself on top of the national stage, for all to see. The utter uselesness of our process has been laid bare before the eyes of a public that does not care, nor should it. Not like this. So, the BigAlDente pick a winner pick of the week goes to: Senator Hillary Clinton! The goal here is change. Not change in rhetoric or political ideal, but actual, biological change. The America of Earth can push for a Black President in Senator Barack Obama, and that would be just fine. However, the advanced science of AlDente labs had discovered in 325 B.C. that the genetic distinctions between the races are so miniscule as to be dismissable. Senator Obama has a very high chance of having a higher genetic similarity to Senator Edwards rather than, say, Rev. Al Sharpton. This is fact. So, since on the genetic level to change the race of the president would really not be that much of a change, let's change the gender, shall we? This is where the revolution lies. Not in rhretoric or ideals, not in intangible thoughts and expressions. It lies in actual, real, physical metamorphosis of the position. A female president. So let me leave you with this one: In the words of the great C. Eliott Friday, "A bird has a left wing and a right wing, but they're just for flapping. The bird brain is in the middle."

Genius flakes, now with more Calcium!

2007-05-12T18:44:00.000-07:00

A !reaction to Stimuli, Mark Eins.

2007-05-06T18:48:00.000-07:00


silly SHIT sad//sand
        inbetween your toes -- false brain
mouth and ears, a dog succumbing to [total]
total bullshit MELTDOWN | the heart-
-beat seems to be working GREAT,
but your eyes are climbing all over
her | HER EYES never knew
their daddy and now U can't
interview " the emotions " anymore
without a lawyer present :

     &

( god forgot to mention this part )

   shining the shoes
   doesn't wanna work NOW! because
 YOU'RE AWARE OF YOURSELF & NOW!
both ends of the arrow
grease dead wheels grey blue
              brown orange
             teal sea
          green pink
     foam champagne melon
         grey blue brown
                   orange. . .

----------
I'm going insane like hollywood superstars.

Thank You, Mask Man by Lenny Bruce

2007-04-30T17:56:00.000-07:00

Meet the Writers: Johnny Beaver

2007-04-28T15:51:00.000-07:00

Image Embeds include the U.S. Constitution. Submitted for your flushproval

2007-04-22T15:05:00.000-07:00

The Adventures of Neon Ballz

Episode 3: Location X

Meanwhile, somewhere near Vegas, forces were beginning to conspire against neon. Capt. Hiram was in his personal chambers getting ready to dictate his command. “We’ve got new intel that Goldstar is getting ready to meet. This is our best chance at apprehending neon ballz and the rest of those goddamm flying saucer freaks.” Captain Hiram looked at the photos on his desk and frowned with disapproval. He knew he would lose a significant number of bio-slaves on this objective, but he also knew the stakes involved. Hiram leaned forward and pressed the button on the old navy gray intercom; “Gloria, get me Rob Dobbs.”

Neon Ballz was operating the ‘three on the tree’ like an octopus operating the master control room. He knew if he was going to make it to location X he was going to need some backup. He slipped in to the parking lot of the Brahman mart and parked next to the phone. Realizing there was a serious lack of change in his possession, neon went inside first. “Oh wow, umm…, lemme get a pack of American Spirits.” The cashier, a petite Indian woman in her mid-thirties, proceeds through the transaction without ever taking her eyes off of a small television screen just below the counter. Neon bends over and sees a looping video of a man performing a golf swing over and over; it’s almost hypnotizing.

Outside, Neon makes his phone call. He dials his 14 digit universal id code, hangs up, and answers when it rings again. The operator asks him for his birthday and favorite number. “Please hold while we patch you through our STP server Mr. Ballz.” Finally, the phone rings and he gets the Goldstar distro-list. He leaves his message and hangs up.

On the road again, neon busts out the ampoule of the good shit and shoots it up. Floating down the road, the lighting changes and slowly objects start to disassemble and spread apart. Neon’s journey has begun. The environment has changed from a Florida highway to a scene resembling space travel, with stars and colors floating around in all directions. All paths lead to the center of the universe. All paths lead to location X. Neon wonders briefly about what kind of new information Goldstar has, but he knows that regardless of the actual information, it’s on bitches!