Wednesday, October 09, 2002

There are multiple Kelso Lundeens. A search of altavista reveals a bunch.

But they're not all me.

Some are, but not all.

Tuesday, October 08, 2002

Who is Kelso Lundeen? Common question. No simple answer.

Here's a recent posting of mine from Slashdot. It's about blogging. I'm responding to someone who disparaged blogging:


"I see your point, but I think it's safe to assume that Blogging -- at least when it's at its most narcissitic -- is like the little pressure valve in those stove-top espresso makers. If the valve wasn't there, you'd pour in the water, put in espresso, put it on the stove, and after two minutes, you'd be digging IKEA shrapnel out from your stomach.

Blogging, I think, works much in the same way. Imagine if these people only had Linkin Park or Avril Lavigne to listen to -- and no way to release the pressure? (Or, worse, imagine if they only had that Linkin Park remix album to listen to? You think 'In the End' is bad in its original incarnation, wait'll you hear what happens to it when Mix-Master Flash and Grand Diddy Funk 'N Funktastic start scratching on it.)

Of course, I experienced a similar situation back in the days of my youth. But thank god the Bee Gees and Saturday Night Fever came to my rescure. There I was in 1977 -- eight, maybe nine years old -- and my world pretty much consisted of all the fading patriotic hoopla from the Bicentennial, a couple of Scientific American magazines which I read over and over again because I was fascinated with the Voyager Mars missions, and a little beat-up AM radio that every night tuned to the local station in my small town so I could hear real live DJs play stuff like Bobby Hebb's 'Sunny' and Glen Campbell's 'Rhinestone Cowboy.'

Anyway, I caught wind of this new movie -- Saturday Night Fever. No one in my fourth grade class had seen it, but everybody was talking about it. Of course, thanks to Jack 'Maddog' Valenti, it was Rated R, so that meant I had to be either 17 or in the company of my old man to go see it.

(I sent Valenti a letter not long after that, explaining that it should be up to kids and parents to make decisions about movies -- not some dumb ratings board -- but I never got a response. For that I still hold a grudge. But I digress...)

Anyway, the Old Man had heard good things about Saturday Night Fever so he decided to take me. We caught a matinee -- on account the old man was a fucking cheapskate -- but that was okay. We hustled down to the movie theater and were able to get into see the 5pm show. ("All shows before 6pm are $1.75")

That movie changed my life. I'm not kidding. The music, Tony Manero ("Attica! Attica!"), the whole disco atmosphere -- it rocked. The only thing that profoundly disturbed me was the fucking Annette in the car. I was seven, of course, so this was all new -- the "making it" -- but I guess these days it's not so new. But then -- back in 1977 -- making it with Annette in the backseat of the car was rocked my little world. And rubbers? Don't get me started. It took a little bit of detective work to figure out what Tony was talking about when he wondered why she didn't have no rubbers.

But this is story about blogging and pressure valves, so flash forward about two weeks. I finally scrounged up enough allowance to by the double album of the soundtrack. I can see the brownish 'Casablanca' label on the record spinning around on my little turntable. That record -- especially the first record -- was my little pressure valve.

The old man would leave on a Saturday or Sunday, and I'd creep downstairs, put the record on the big stereo, and turn the volume up high. "Night Fever", "Jive Talking," and "Staying Alive" blasting loud and clear while I danced around my living room in my sweat socks doing knee-splits and the statue-of-liberty-like-pointing-at-the-sky moves that Tony Manero did in the film. I slicked my hair back, put on my best Brooklyn accent, and made an invisible friend named 'Annette' with whom I'd try to 'make it' on the sofa.

That was my pressure valve.

Nowadays it's blogging.

The more things change, the more they stay the same."


Funny thing is, I don't really *like* blogging.

But here I am.