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Welcome to Department Lemur. We are a friendly yet dangerous autonomous
collective, like Chumbawamba only without the haircuts. I'm the
department's techno-belligerent spiritual advisor, The Passenger, atcha
service. Make yourself at home, or we'll do it for you.
Life is good here -- we have our own laws, wet bar and atmosphere. The room
is so big that you can't see the other end of it, even standing atop your
CPU on your tippy-toes. We communicate with each other with the aid of
pneumatic tubes that were installed back when Eisenhower stored errant
flying saucers in here; they are handy for exchanging ZIP disks, Altoids
and the occasional bottle of scotch. (I know, we could just use the phones
on our desks, maybe even e-mail each other -- but all that stuff seems so
impersonal). Live bands, hockey teams and Shakespearean groups play in our
conference room daily -- that is, when the Deluxe zeppelin isn't parked
there.
It's a quiet Wednesday morning here in the leviathan. I'm waiting for the
coffee and Krispy Kreme donut wagon to come around, so while I'm
anticipating it, here's the pop culture skinny. Remember, none of this
information is meant to be eaten, licked, fondled, or injected
pneumatically. Cheers.
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YOU, A VINCE, THE WORLD
And what of Vince Collins, then? Who is the artistic genius behind the
"interactive animations" at Vinceworld? What
does he hope to gain with his super-visual dada and hyper-powered trivia
incursions? When, exactly, did Vince leave our dimension? There are no easy
answers. While you try to figger'm out, enjoy the fascinating trivia,
unique and trippy 3-D animations, wild sound effects, breakneck pace,
hardcore dementia and exploding plastic-fantastic of Vinceworld. Some
animations can be viewed in-browser; others need to be downloaded (both Mac
and PC are supported, to maintain galactic harmony). Go on, search the web
high and low, peer inside every gnarly Shockwave gallery until you lose the
light at the end of the Carpal Tunnel. You'll never find anything that
resembles Vinceworld, not in your mortal lifetime.
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GOOD FEAR
What with the arms inspectors, the trunk full of bogus Anthrax and the
intern's (ahem) soiled dress, we could sure use a little clarification
around here. While Disinformation may not
necessarily be the site to provide it, you can indulge in hour after hour
of sweaty, paranoid fun reading up on mysterious crop circles (there's a
FAQ, for crying out loud -- it just appeared one day), alternate fuels,
the situationists, the CIA's purported Crack-dealing exploits and more. To pour
through this well-designed, painstakingly compiled links page is to fatten
your FBI file by a page or two and place a third eye in the back of your
head, but man alive, is this stuff ever fascinating. Twist your reality
into a fun balloon animal!
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OUR HOUSE IN THE MIDDLE OF OUR STREET
The House Of Fun, home to effervescent Action
Girl creator Sarah Dyer and cheerfully abrasive Milk & Cheese creator Evan
Dorkin, is such a colorful, friendly and nifty place that one almost
overlooks the fact that these hepcats are cornerstones in an entertainment
empire that spans nearly every form of media. Their respective comics rank
among Slave Labor Graphics' most popular titles; Dorkin, in particular, has
a following large enough to carpet a small European country. They've
written episodes of the hysterical "Space Ghost Coast To Coast" shows, do
freelance work on Warner Brother's natty "Superman" cartoon and illustrate
all manner of CD and magazine covers. At the House of Fun, you can discover
the folks behind this abundant entertainment -- their work, their likes and
dislikes, their position on the current incarnation of Ska, their cats and
more. You must visit. Do not defy me.
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AUSTIN CRÉPUSCULE
8 1/2 Souvenirs is the goods. Actually, they're the greats. The story of
this Austin, Texas, gypsy swing group is told in rich detail by their
official homepage -- how Olivier Giraud
emigrated from France to Texas, found four Americanos who shared his
musical sensibilities (equal parts Django Reinhardt, Serge Gainsbourg and
Nino Rota), borrowed a moniker from Fellini and went to town. While the
band's biography is worthy and the images pleasing (8 1/2 Souvenirs has its
share of cutie-pies, including 5-foot-9 knockout Chrysta Bell), it's really
the sound files that paint the picture. "Happy Feet" and "Kazango" bounce
along like a rolling rubber tire and covers of Django, Gainsbourg and Cole
Porter deserve a nod of respect from the ghosts of their creators. If
that's not enough of an impetus for you to browse this Souvenir
stand, then dig this, slick: you just might win some real souvenirs if you
fill out the obligatory comment form ("We've given away an unbelievable
number of temporary tattoos, a few CDs, 36 mugs, 147 T-shirts, a partridge,
a pear and a small tree from the hills of Borneo").
That's enough, please. One more hit and that last donut will come right up.
I tell ya, friends and neighbors, these are the moments that matter. See
you next week!
The Passenger first appeared on Vegas.com and ran from March 1998 until February 2000.
Back to list of Passenger columns
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