•And there’s a (libertarian-friendly) “Right-Wing Tweet Up” tonight at O’Lunney’s (W. 50th just west of Broadway) at 7pm that I’ll attend.
•...the mayor of Reykjavik, Jon Gnarr, elected along with his fellow comedians and musicians (including a punk singing “Fuck the system”) after a joke campaign as members of the Best Party, which inadvertently tapped into a groundswell of financial-crisis-fueled resentment of the mainstream parties, as hilariously recounted in the documentary Gnarr, which I saw at a Tribeca Film Festival screening two days ago (with an economist pal who has at least visited Iceland).
One touching thing the director said during Q&A after the film is that even though the Best Party members all started this as a joke – and all of them now say this is the hardest, least fun, most grueling and thankless thing they’ve ever done – none of them has resigned from office despite having entertainment careers they could go back to, and they are trying to muddle through at a time when virtually all of Reykjavik is bankrupt and angry.
The documentary was described thusly in a promo:
Following his country's economic meltdown, in 2009 acerbic Icelandic comedian Jon Gnarr launches his own political party, the Best Party. His platform? Build a Disneyland, put more polar bears in the zoo, economize by hiring only one Santa during the holidays, and oust from the government anyone who hasn’t seen The Wire. It starts out as a joke, but when support for Gnarr’s wacky mayoral bid surprisingly snowballs, a group of rebels and punk rockers quickly captures the imagination of a nation desperate for a release from the corruption that nearly brought on its collapse.
Some of my favorite items from his list of political promises: a drug-free Parliament by 2020, “all kinds of things for weaklings,” and “sustainable transparency.”
Gnarr said in an interview that he’d started out socialist but had been nudged toward individualism by punk. And that is how we will win.
•There was only one brief glimpse of Bjork in the documentary, so here’s the whole video in question,
“Motorcrash,” from back when she was in her early twenties and more
punk, and I was in my late teens and, well, just more
nerdy, let’s be honest.
A friend of mine once said Bjork’s co-vocalist from Sugarcubes sang like he was “falling off a mountain,” and he doesn’t seem to have done too much since, so it may have been an apt metaphor. His sad Wikipedia entry about having had some bartending gigs, etc., sounds self-written. Bjork by contrast is now de facto prime minister and queen of the faerie in Iceland, just as the bald guy from Midnight Oil, who is fourteen feet tall and has twenty-seven children, is now the king of Australia, I think.
NOTE: Bjork has a twenty-four year-old rock writer/bass player daughter whose reviews contain sentences like:
Caterpillarmen make music I despise. I’ll make no secret of that fact. I hate progressive rock with a passion, and would rather die than be caught listening to it. That said, Caterpillarmen are very good at making this music I so despise, and in fact, my visceral loathing of their music is proof of how good they are at making shit.
Here is a less positive element of Bjork’s life, per Wikipedia:
On 12 September 1996, obsessed fan Ricardo López mailed an acid-spraying letter bomb to Björk’s London home and then killed himself, but the package was intercepted by the Metropolitan Police Service. López filmed himself in the process of making the acid bomb which was intended to kill her. The nearly eighteen hours of videotape described López’s obsession with Björk, the construction of the device, his thoughts on love and other subjects, including racial remarks against Björk's then-boyfriend Goldie. The video footage continues after his mailing the bomb to Björk's London home and ends dramatically as López shaves his head, applies face paint and commits suicide by shooting himself on camera.
And you thought her husband Matthew Barney’s video of the two of them carving up each other’s flesh like whale meat was disturbing. Actually, it was, but then, I find even the giant teddy bear from the “Human Behavior” video sort of disturbing.
•Also musically and (left-)anarchically inclined is comics writer Grant Morrison (his Sugarcubes-era song
“Tortured Soul” with his band the Fauves –not to be confused with the other band by that name – is Violent Femmes-worthy and is here accompanied by a Fleischer Superman cartoon of much older vintage). As a man from Scotland, he might appreciate the tragedy of
the recent Boston-area man killed while burning leaves in a kilt (pointed out to me by Jake Harrison).
A friend of mine has joked about what it would be like if the shrinking number of comic book readers ever got so small that the creators could just pass original art around the room, without going to all the trouble of publishing things. And it occurs to me that another disturbing tipping point would be if the fans of any given comic come to be outnumbered by the (named, individual) characters in the fictional universe in which that comic takes place. (Marvel, for instance, has something like 5,000 characters, and a top comic only sells around 100,000 copies these days.)
I could probably convince mystically-inclined Morrison that some sort of sentience-awakening event occurs that makes the comic book come to life at that point.
AND THE SECOND HALF OF THIS 2,000-WORD ENTRY is entirely about Grant Morrison, I should warn you (anyone who actually reads the whole thing should let me know):