JIB JAB Thanksgiving Cranberry Slaughter VIDEO

Jib Jab "Thanksgiving Cranberry Slaughter"

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First Thanksgiving with Sean Connery VIDEO

Blame Society Films "Bric A Brac: The First Thanksgiving"

Christopher Walken, Sean Connery, Dr. Phil, and John Madden land in the new world with the rest of the pilgrims. They must decide whether to give thanks for it, or completely annihilate it...

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TSA Hustle don't touch my junk VIDEO

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Health Ranger "TSA Hustle: Don't Touch My Junk"

SEE ALSO ... my full photo essay on TSA Gestapo tactics and the dangers of skin cancer from backscatter X ray machines:

"Airport Full Body Pat Downs and X Ray Scanners"

Hartley 2 Comet as Rock Star

He came down from heaven, this shining projectile, the Hartley 2 comet.

Comet or UFO? A space ship passing by? Scientists are already talking about its structure seeming to be two objects "fused together". Will we ever be able to interview the engineers who performed this feat?

If we assume Hartley 2 is moving from right to left in the photo above, those light emissions in the tail end of the craft would be the propulsive apparatus jettisoning some super-advanced form of exhaust and ballistic force vectors, to propel the rocket and its crew along their way.

The side lights on the craft are the ship's high-velocity spectrum blasters, keeping it in an elliptical orbit, rather than shooting forward in a straight line, off into outer space, escaping the Milky Way and trespassing on forbidden territory, arousing furious gyrations and angry apogees of protest by assorted intra-galactic objects and high-ranking foreign (non-Milky Way) star assemblages.

Whatever it was, it was a rock star.

Everyone saw its picture in the paper and on the screens. Never before has a comet been so candid and transparent. Hartley 2 stole our hearts and breezed on by without bidding us a farewell or a see you later.

But it kissed our camera with an image that shocks and satisfies, educates and mystifies. If only we could hitch a ride.

Watch the Hartley 2 short film. (.MOV file)



Here is a success to emulate, a mighty being, a self-contained robust module, on a joy ride around the galaxy, without a care in the world.

The turkey leg missle. Hartley 2. We miss you already. You rode into town, then vanished off into the distance again. What do you see out there? What stories could you tell?

This year's return of comet Hartley 2 is freaked out awesomeness.

The comet can't be stopped.

We were unable to capture it for nomadic analysis, as it rips through our plasma nets like they were cotton candy.

The doggone thing has made its perihelion passage on October 28th, 2010, having passed at a distance of 18 million kilometres from the Earth on October 20th. This has been badass Hartley2's  nearest approach to the Earth since its discovery in 1986 and by far its closest approach in the next century.

Comet Hartley 2 flew by us, laughing at our sophisticated instruments and education, at 16.4 million kilometers from Herschel on October 20th, providing a chance to thumb our noses at him and impudently gather a bunch of rather, um,  sensitive measurements, which were gentlemanly, for example they were very considerate and graciously complementary to the observations from EPOXI and other secret space spying facilities.

Rumors that Hartley 2 is not a comet, but rather obviously a spaceship from another, more advanced and artistic civilization, have gone uncontested, as scientists scramble to absorb the new information and hold conferences about it so as to more effectively spin out the academically correct version of the themes contained within the collected data.
 

PHOTO ABOVE: Comet Hartley 2 as seen by Herschel/PACS. This processed image was taken with PACS on October 25th, 2010, in its "blue" channel (70 micrometer), ten days before the EPOXI's Encounter phase, with a distance between Herschel and comet Hartley 2 of 17.5 million km. The Sun symbol and arrow indicate the projected direction towards the Sun.

Bern Porter and Unintentional Art

Is a novelist a novelist because others consider him a novelist, because he has published novels and is embraced by other novelists as one of their own?

Or is a novelist simply one who contains and expresses his creativity in novels? How about if they're never published or never even written, but remain in the imagination? Is it enough to think a novel, or do you have to scribble down somewhere?

Does a sonata exist in the composer's mind as a sonata, or is it not a sonata until someone else hears it or reads the score?

Where do we draw the line? What makes an artist an artist? What makes art something other than non-art? Being non-utilitarian and extraordinary in design?

When we strictly define "art" and "artist", according to some whimsy of Mind as it attempts to differentiate, categorize, and understand, we arbitrarily negate much that is existing artistically without being labeled or "considered" such.

One would think that after Adorno, critics would no longer define art by what men called art in ages past, but would evaluate items according to their inner necessity and external impact on an audience.

Today we look at Unintentional Art and the Artist's Intentions.

"If I'm humming or whistling it, it's music," the composer said.

"If I'm reading a long story, it's a novel," the reader replied.

"I paint, therefore I am...a painter," the painter explained.

What about that splotch of color, the result of rain on iron, is it a "painting"? What if the image attracts the eye and pleases it? Those clouds above in the sky: are they white and grey vapor paintings in motion against a blue backdrop?

Intentionalism states that a novelist is someone who has decided to write something and he calls that something a novel and it resembles, to some degree, other novels that exist and are referred to as "novels".

Unintentionalism states that randomly occurring images, non-self-aware constructions, accidental art that does not think of itself as art, is not presented or packaged as art, that may not even have an identifiable artist as cause and holder of intellectual property rights over it, may still be Art.

We've all seen it.

You're walking along, and something colorful, beautiful, glittering catches your attention. You bend toward it to get a better, a closer view. You reach for it, to pick it up...then draw back, repulsed.

It was just a mutilated toy, apparently chopped up by some lawnmower, a headless action figure, a plastic playtime hero, with bright clothing, shining garments, a radiant uniform.

For a moment, until you knew what it was, that lump of plastic was, for you, an object of art.

Bern Porter called these stumbled upon (and sometimes re-assembled) items "Founds".

He assembled scraps of text and discarded photos into collages and called them art ("something to look at").

You may view a large number of selected Bern Porter "Founds" at Ubu Web, from the MOMA (Museum of Modern Art, NYC) collection.

Back when I was about 13 years old, I used to cut comic strips out of the Sunday newspaper, then glue them into a notebook in a Dada manner, mixing up the narrative, forcing things out of context, artistic mayhem and creative contortions.

But who is the artist, Bern or me? Or both? Or neither? Mind, which rests in categorical constructions, wants to know!

Jacques Derrida defines deconstruction VIDEO

Jacques Derrida "Derrida Defines Deconstruction"