"Save The World" by Swedish House Mafia
May 27, 2011 11:02 PM Subscribe
SLYT: Either "Save The World" by Swedish House Mafia is one of the most incredibly moving music videos ever or I just have insanely weepy-with-joy PMS hormones right now. I link, you decide!
I'm sorry but I would like my 3:36 back. When I think of something moving, this ad (yes, it's an ad) is pretty good. Let me know how your hormones hold up with this one.
posted by paulinsanjuan at 11:12 PM on May 27, 2011 [15 favorites]
posted by paulinsanjuan at 11:12 PM on May 27, 2011 [15 favorites]
Welsh Corgi = win.
posted by ShutterBun at 11:13 PM on May 27, 2011 [6 favorites]
posted by ShutterBun at 11:13 PM on May 27, 2011 [6 favorites]
As usual, the Lhaso just stands around mugging for the camera. I hope it gets voted off the team first.
posted by PapaLobo at 11:17 PM on May 27, 2011 [3 favorites]
posted by PapaLobo at 11:17 PM on May 27, 2011 [3 favorites]
A friend just sent me this via Facebook and as I watched it this is what was going through my head:
0:00-0:35: OK, good call, Cary, this is indeed the kind of mindless dance-poppy music I like.
0:35-1:02: Uh oh. This is getting dark. But they're singing about saving the world. Oh, I know, Cary must have sent this to me because he knows I like superheroes. Someone is going to swoop in and save them.
1:02-1:07: What?
1:07-1:22: ...the fuck?
1:22-1:40: OMG THIS IS GOING TO BE AWESOME!
1:40-1:55: Oh no, this is so sad! *begin insane hormonal weeping*
1:55-2:09: Oh yes, this is so sweet! *insane hormonal weeping escalates*
2:09-2:16: OMG YES YES YES THIS REALLY IS GOING TO BE AWESOME.
2:16-2:35: The facial expressions! THE FACIAL EXPRESSIONS!
2:35-2:46: YES!
2:46-2:52: YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!
2:52-2:57: Ha!
2:57-3:13: YAY!
3:13-3:15: <-- These are the seconds propelled the hormonal weepy-with-joyness to a whole other level.
3:15-3:36: Everyone I know needs to see this music video RIGHT. FUCKING. NOW.
posted by Jacqueline at 11:22 PM on May 27, 2011 [6 favorites]
0:00-0:35: OK, good call, Cary, this is indeed the kind of mindless dance-poppy music I like.
0:35-1:02: Uh oh. This is getting dark. But they're singing about saving the world. Oh, I know, Cary must have sent this to me because he knows I like superheroes. Someone is going to swoop in and save them.
1:02-1:07: What?
1:07-1:22: ...the fuck?
1:22-1:40: OMG THIS IS GOING TO BE AWESOME!
1:40-1:55: Oh no, this is so sad! *begin insane hormonal weeping*
1:55-2:09: Oh yes, this is so sweet! *insane hormonal weeping escalates*
2:09-2:16: OMG YES YES YES THIS REALLY IS GOING TO BE AWESOME.
2:16-2:35: The facial expressions! THE FACIAL EXPRESSIONS!
2:35-2:46: YES!
2:46-2:52: YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!
2:52-2:57: Ha!
2:57-3:13: YAY!
3:13-3:15: <-- These are the seconds propelled the hormonal weepy-with-joyness to a whole other level.
3:15-3:36: Everyone I know needs to see this music video RIGHT. FUCKING. NOW.
posted by Jacqueline at 11:22 PM on May 27, 2011 [6 favorites]
"When I think of something moving, this ad yt (yes, it's an ad) is pretty good. Let me know how your hormones hold up with this one."
Sorry, but it suffers from a terminal lack of Corgis. Or perhaps I am just all cried-out already.
posted by Jacqueline at 11:28 PM on May 27, 2011
Sorry, but it suffers from a terminal lack of Corgis. Or perhaps I am just all cried-out already.
posted by Jacqueline at 11:28 PM on May 27, 2011
But hey, please do feel free to turn this into the "let's all try to make Jacqueline cry" thread if ya want. :D
posted by Jacqueline at 11:30 PM on May 27, 2011
posted by Jacqueline at 11:30 PM on May 27, 2011
It could be my PMS also, but this is the most awesome thing ever. It has corgis. And an afghan. And a golden retriever. And puppies. And together THEY FIGHT CRIME.
posted by lesbiassparrow at 11:36 PM on May 27, 2011 [1 favorite]
posted by lesbiassparrow at 11:36 PM on May 27, 2011 [1 favorite]
.--.--.--.--. . .---..--. . ..---. : | | )| /: :|\ || | --. | |--' | / | || \ ||--- : | | | \ | / : ;| \|| `--'--'--' `'---''---'`--' ' ''---'posted by CynicalKnight at 11:43 PM on May 27, 2011 [19 favorites]
Is there a version of that track with a less squealy crowd?
posted by Jacqueline at 11:50 PM on May 27, 2011
posted by Jacqueline at 11:50 PM on May 27, 2011
They're kind of a electro/house supergroup, it's Axwell, Sebastian Ingrosso and Steve Angello, who all had a ton of big club hits individually before they started making tracks together.
posted by empath at 11:55 PM on May 27, 2011
posted by empath at 11:55 PM on May 27, 2011
the most incredibly moving music videos ever or I just have insanely weepy-with-joy PMS hormones right now. I link, you decide!
Sadly, real life does not have happy ending like this video. In real life, hundred of crimes go on without any intervention at all. I did not find this video uplifting because I live in a high-crime area where all of these occurring are a daily fact of life. It's not uplifting a priviledged band with the resources to make a high-end music video choose to make light of the routine violence and victimization of people who live in high crime zones. To me, it seems like they are laughing about serious crime. I'm glad that the musicians and directors are in a safe space where they can make fantasy videos of assault and rape and lulz it up with slow-motion dogs but not everyone is in such a place and some people have to take crime seriously because it effects our lives in a real way hat doesn't involve bullshit fantasies about magical dogs running to violently main and murder criminals.
Want to cry? Here's an NYPD COMPSTAT for last week from the neighborhood I used to work in. It has everything the music video had, but it's not a joke. A few blocks south of where I live, just THIS WEEK there were three rapes in my neighborhood and 21 people were assaulted.
Additionally, many dogs, such as the ones seen in the video running through the streets without owners will go on to pounds, and eventually put down. Hundred of dogs every week are put to death unnecessarily because they can't find owners or sometimes have behavioral problems that will prevent them from ever being in a stable household. It is no fault of these dogs that their owners failed to properly train them, but now many of these dogs simply can't be around human people and must be euthanized because they are simply too violent.
So no. It is not one the most incredibly moving music videos because it has nothing to do with reality. It coopts very real, very intense and traumatic suffering for the purpose of promoting a pop song through social media. That makes it hurtful and awful.
TL;DR: fuq is a shmoopy-pooper and didn't think the video was uplifting.
posted by fuq at 11:57 PM on May 27, 2011 [11 favorites]
Sadly, real life does not have happy ending like this video. In real life, hundred of crimes go on without any intervention at all. I did not find this video uplifting because I live in a high-crime area where all of these occurring are a daily fact of life. It's not uplifting a priviledged band with the resources to make a high-end music video choose to make light of the routine violence and victimization of people who live in high crime zones. To me, it seems like they are laughing about serious crime. I'm glad that the musicians and directors are in a safe space where they can make fantasy videos of assault and rape and lulz it up with slow-motion dogs but not everyone is in such a place and some people have to take crime seriously because it effects our lives in a real way hat doesn't involve bullshit fantasies about magical dogs running to violently main and murder criminals.
Want to cry? Here's an NYPD COMPSTAT for last week from the neighborhood I used to work in. It has everything the music video had, but it's not a joke. A few blocks south of where I live, just THIS WEEK there were three rapes in my neighborhood and 21 people were assaulted.
Additionally, many dogs, such as the ones seen in the video running through the streets without owners will go on to pounds, and eventually put down. Hundred of dogs every week are put to death unnecessarily because they can't find owners or sometimes have behavioral problems that will prevent them from ever being in a stable household. It is no fault of these dogs that their owners failed to properly train them, but now many of these dogs simply can't be around human people and must be euthanized because they are simply too violent.
So no. It is not one the most incredibly moving music videos because it has nothing to do with reality. It coopts very real, very intense and traumatic suffering for the purpose of promoting a pop song through social media. That makes it hurtful and awful.
TL;DR: fuq is a shmoopy-pooper and didn't think the video was uplifting.
posted by fuq at 11:57 PM on May 27, 2011 [11 favorites]
I liked the OP-1 video better, but only because it gave rise to my techno lust (I WILL HAVE ONE BEFORE THE END OF THE YEAR DAMNIT). Oh, btw, the video is better on mute.
posted by eyeballkid at 11:59 PM on May 27, 2011
posted by eyeballkid at 11:59 PM on May 27, 2011
fuq, you forgot to add that we're all probably going to eventually die alone and unloved.
posted by empath at 11:59 PM on May 27, 2011 [27 favorites]
posted by empath at 11:59 PM on May 27, 2011 [27 favorites]
Also this Axwell mashup of Show Me Love absolutely floored me when i heard it at a club the first time.
posted by empath at 12:02 AM on May 28, 2011
posted by empath at 12:02 AM on May 28, 2011
I don't know about moving, but it struck just the right balance between deadpan and totally silly to make me laugh my ass off. The kid on the floor watching the DOGS ON A MISSION run by was great.
posted by brundlefly at 12:02 AM on May 28, 2011 [1 favorite]
posted by brundlefly at 12:02 AM on May 28, 2011 [1 favorite]
@fuq: Sorry, I forgot that it was Friday night and thus all the fun MeFites are out busy having fun instead of reading MetaFilter. My bad.
Next time I post on a weekend night I shall endeavor to make it sufficiently dour for you.
:P
posted by Jacqueline at 12:06 AM on May 28, 2011 [2 favorites]
Next time I post on a weekend night I shall endeavor to make it sufficiently dour for you.
:P
posted by Jacqueline at 12:06 AM on May 28, 2011 [2 favorites]
I will not be satisfied with anything short of "The Wire" with all the positive bits edited out and a twenty-minute speech about animal abuse in the middle of it.
posted by fuq at 12:10 AM on May 28, 2011 [20 favorites]
posted by fuq at 12:10 AM on May 28, 2011 [20 favorites]
It has everything the music video had, but it's not a joke.
It doesn't have cute dogs.
posted by The Hamms Bear at 12:10 AM on May 28, 2011 [1 favorite]
It doesn't have cute dogs.
posted by The Hamms Bear at 12:10 AM on May 28, 2011 [1 favorite]
Hey, there's one in (damn near) every thread. The presence of a "schmoopy-pooper" is needed to disable the inevitable argument that "everyone at MetaFilter loves/hates/believes the same thing".
posted by oneswellfoop at 12:13 AM on May 28, 2011 [2 favorites]
posted by oneswellfoop at 12:13 AM on May 28, 2011 [2 favorites]
You're absolutely right, fuq. Additionally, it shows a kid working at a doughnut shop, which clearly makes light of the fact that so many people are forced to take low-paying jobs and are denied a living wage.
Also: it's set during the night, which is deeply insensitive to those who suffer from nyctophobia.
posted by brundlefly at 12:13 AM on May 28, 2011 [1 favorite]
Also: it's set during the night, which is deeply insensitive to those who suffer from nyctophobia.
posted by brundlefly at 12:13 AM on May 28, 2011 [1 favorite]
Every superhero dog pack has to have a beagle.
And there should have been a chihuahua laying down supressing fire.
posted by clavdivs at 12:18 AM on May 28, 2011 [6 favorites]
And there should have been a chihuahua laying down supressing fire.
posted by clavdivs at 12:18 AM on May 28, 2011 [6 favorites]
Clavdivs, I love you.
posted by Jacqueline at 12:19 AM on May 28, 2011
posted by Jacqueline at 12:19 AM on May 28, 2011
This is FANTASTIC
posted by tumid dahlia at 12:20 AM on May 28, 2011
posted by tumid dahlia at 12:20 AM on May 28, 2011
the song sucked, the video would have been better if all the criminals committed the crimes to buy treats, and the second half of the video was slow motion shots of all those dogs happily licking the faces of the attackers, after being feed those treats.
posted by stifford at 12:24 AM on May 28, 2011 [1 favorite]
posted by stifford at 12:24 AM on May 28, 2011 [1 favorite]
That video was useless without bassets. No basset, no love.
posted by Kraftmatic Adjustable Cheese at 12:39 AM on May 28, 2011 [1 favorite]
posted by Kraftmatic Adjustable Cheese at 12:39 AM on May 28, 2011 [1 favorite]
I am pretty sure – no, certain – that it is exactly these sorts of crime-fighting dog heroics that my blue heeler imagines as he barks at the neighbors. Or the person in the car behind mine – especially that guy on the motorcycle OMG HE'S AFTER US!!!
posted by zippy at 12:40 AM on May 28, 2011 [2 favorites]
posted by zippy at 12:40 AM on May 28, 2011 [2 favorites]
It would have killed them to add a fluffy white terrier mix with blue eyes * to the crimefighting team?
* may or may not be my dog
* may or may not disable criminals bearing delicious treats
posted by taz at 12:43 AM on May 28, 2011 [3 favorites]
* may or may not be my dog
* may or may not disable criminals bearing delicious treats
posted by taz at 12:43 AM on May 28, 2011 [3 favorites]
Also, they should make a version of this with cats, except the cats do absolutely nothing but watch the violence and horror with obdurate indifference and afterwards they get up and stroll away, showing their assholes to the camera as they pad off into the dark.
posted by Kraftmatic Adjustable Cheese at 12:45 AM on May 28, 2011 [18 favorites]
posted by Kraftmatic Adjustable Cheese at 12:45 AM on May 28, 2011 [18 favorites]
Taz, the fluffy white terrier mix was back at HQ organizing things. Where things = both fighting crime and organizing treats.
posted by lesbiassparrow at 12:52 AM on May 28, 2011 [1 favorite]
posted by lesbiassparrow at 12:52 AM on May 28, 2011 [1 favorite]
Everyone here already knows about Dogfort, right? Because if you liked this music video, you will probably like Dogfort.
posted by Jacqueline at 12:55 AM on May 28, 2011
posted by Jacqueline at 12:55 AM on May 28, 2011
Fantastic video! Also made me well up... pure happiness!
(miserable comments on here brought me back down again after though, thanks guys)
posted by aqueousdan at 1:59 AM on May 28, 2011 [2 favorites]
(miserable comments on here brought me back down again after though, thanks guys)
posted by aqueousdan at 1:59 AM on May 28, 2011 [2 favorites]
Personally, I wanted the French and the English Bulldogs to each grab a face of the robbers in the deli, lock their jaws, and shake back and forth to the music.
posted by crataegus at 2:20 AM on May 28, 2011
posted by crataegus at 2:20 AM on May 28, 2011
Kraftmatic Adjustable Cheese:
Or, rather, the cats disable the criminals and then rob everyone -- criminals and victims -- and rub their faces all over everything -- before peeling out in the stolen car.
( Later, at the police station, we find nothing can be done because the FBI hasn't started a cat face print database yet. "What do you remember? Were they Maine Coons? Manx?" )
posted by Kikkoman at 2:21 AM on May 28, 2011 [2 favorites]
Or, rather, the cats disable the criminals and then rob everyone -- criminals and victims -- and rub their faces all over everything -- before peeling out in the stolen car.
( Later, at the police station, we find nothing can be done because the FBI hasn't started a cat face print database yet. "What do you remember? Were they Maine Coons? Manx?" )
posted by Kikkoman at 2:21 AM on May 28, 2011 [2 favorites]
Oh god, paulinsanjuan, I haven't seen that ad in years, but it had me doing that INSTA-CRY thing at the moment the hat is removed, again. it gets me every time, thus I avoid it when wearing makeup.
posted by dabitch at 2:27 AM on May 28, 2011
posted by dabitch at 2:27 AM on May 28, 2011
It's well-intended, and made me schmoopy too, as an animal lover...
...but I share fuq's reactions as well.
I grew up with a Golden Retriever and did obedience training with her. As a result I got a foot into the dog training scene in our area (Eugene-Springfield, Oregon). And so when I see each of those dogs, in addition to thinking what fuq does, which is that so many street dogs are neither healthy nor likely to live long lives, I thought of the rent-a-guard-dogs we had in our area. They were trained to protect runners (the vast majority of clients were women). Trained guard (attack) dogs do not jump on sleeves or try to trip up people... they go for immediate incapacitation of their target and do not stop unless told to. If their holder does not tell them it's okay to stop, they'll continue.
So when I saw that bulldog jump, my first thought was "oh shit this is going to be a bloodbath, who in their right minds would put a freaking bulldog attack in a music video" because bulldogs go for the trachea and, if they're honest-to-god attacking, never let go.
But it jumped to grab a sleeve? Like I said, the video's well-intentioned, but it's so, very, unrealistic. As a woman who often walked (with male friends) through "the rape graveyard" between MacArthur Court and the University of Oregon's School of Music, I too feel like it's disrespectful to victims... no one's going to come running out of nowhere to save you. Hell, if you're raped, there's a good chance random people who've never met you will blame you for it.
More realistic would have been the women walking at night with one of those trained guard dogs, and as the rapist attacks, the dog clamps down on his arm and doesn't let go until one of the women (its holder) says so. But there are problems with that type of trained guard dog too; eventually it leads to a sort of psychosis since they're trained to see any holder as "good" and any designated target as "bad"... even if the designated target is their own trainer. (The place in our area specifically trained them that way so that there was less chance of trainers victimizing clients by taking advantage of their trust built with the dogs.) So after a few years, the poor dogs just end up cracking and see everyone as targets; they're unable to trust anyone. I don't know if that's how it's done any more, though; I imagine (hope) they've changed some things.
posted by fraula at 2:51 AM on May 28, 2011 [6 favorites]
...but I share fuq's reactions as well.
I grew up with a Golden Retriever and did obedience training with her. As a result I got a foot into the dog training scene in our area (Eugene-Springfield, Oregon). And so when I see each of those dogs, in addition to thinking what fuq does, which is that so many street dogs are neither healthy nor likely to live long lives, I thought of the rent-a-guard-dogs we had in our area. They were trained to protect runners (the vast majority of clients were women). Trained guard (attack) dogs do not jump on sleeves or try to trip up people... they go for immediate incapacitation of their target and do not stop unless told to. If their holder does not tell them it's okay to stop, they'll continue.
So when I saw that bulldog jump, my first thought was "oh shit this is going to be a bloodbath, who in their right minds would put a freaking bulldog attack in a music video" because bulldogs go for the trachea and, if they're honest-to-god attacking, never let go.
But it jumped to grab a sleeve? Like I said, the video's well-intentioned, but it's so, very, unrealistic. As a woman who often walked (with male friends) through "the rape graveyard" between MacArthur Court and the University of Oregon's School of Music, I too feel like it's disrespectful to victims... no one's going to come running out of nowhere to save you. Hell, if you're raped, there's a good chance random people who've never met you will blame you for it.
More realistic would have been the women walking at night with one of those trained guard dogs, and as the rapist attacks, the dog clamps down on his arm and doesn't let go until one of the women (its holder) says so. But there are problems with that type of trained guard dog too; eventually it leads to a sort of psychosis since they're trained to see any holder as "good" and any designated target as "bad"... even if the designated target is their own trainer. (The place in our area specifically trained them that way so that there was less chance of trainers victimizing clients by taking advantage of their trust built with the dogs.) So after a few years, the poor dogs just end up cracking and see everyone as targets; they're unable to trust anyone. I don't know if that's how it's done any more, though; I imagine (hope) they've changed some things.
posted by fraula at 2:51 AM on May 28, 2011 [6 favorites]
Superhero dogs rescue and/or comfort victims of everyday crime!
Metafilter: We'll find a problem with that.
posted by ShutterBun at 3:03 AM on May 28, 2011 [1 favorite]
Metafilter: We'll find a problem with that.
posted by ShutterBun at 3:03 AM on May 28, 2011 [1 favorite]
I love dogs, I love Huskies (nobody has mentioned the husky yet? What is wrong with you people). I love music. I love good slo-mo.
But, Jacqueline..... yeah, it's probably the hormones.
and, for animal commercials to make you cry, it's hard to beat this one.
posted by tomswift at 3:10 AM on May 28, 2011
But, Jacqueline..... yeah, it's probably the hormones.
and, for animal commercials to make you cry, it's hard to beat this one.
posted by tomswift at 3:10 AM on May 28, 2011
Yeah, it was cute, but I wanted more doggy retributive violence. Like, Game-of-Thrones-direwolf-style attacking.
posted by amber_dale at 3:19 AM on May 28, 2011 [2 favorites]
posted by amber_dale at 3:19 AM on May 28, 2011 [2 favorites]
"So no. It is not one the most incredibly moving music videos because it has nothing to do with reality. It coopts very real, very intense and traumatic suffering for the purpose of promoting a pop song through social media. That makes it hurtful and awful." - fuq
"But it jumped to grab a sleeve? Like I said, the video's well-intentioned, but it's so, very, unrealistic. As a woman who often walked (with male friends) through "the rape graveyard" between MacArthur Court and the University of Oregon's School of Music, I too feel like it's disrespectful to victims... no one's going to come running out of nowhere to save you. Hell, if you're raped, there's a good chance random people who've never met you will blame you for it." - fraula
Do you define everything beneath the magnified, halogen light of your own suffering, or are you such martyrs that everything is reflected by and only contextually relevant inside the studied womb of the suffering of others? During the fall are you crushed by invented thoughts of a dead oak leaf seesawing down onto the cold blank face of a strangled child, such horror and tragedy leaving you wrapped around yourself and gasping on the sidewalk? Does a light on the horizon stagger you with flashbacks to a Nagasaki glimpsed only in grainy black and white? Three men laugh late at night - is it because of those depraved sexual tortures they inflict on a young girl, bound with gardening twine? Is every stranger’s glance the calculating gaze of a terrible predator, his wet erection pressed throbbing against his thigh, drool sluicing into his mouth as he fingers the switchblade in his coat pocket? Do the crickets cease their song because of a monster moving over them? Truly every dark corner of the earth must contain untold horrors for you.
posted by tumid dahlia at 3:50 AM on May 28, 2011 [12 favorites]
"But it jumped to grab a sleeve? Like I said, the video's well-intentioned, but it's so, very, unrealistic. As a woman who often walked (with male friends) through "the rape graveyard" between MacArthur Court and the University of Oregon's School of Music, I too feel like it's disrespectful to victims... no one's going to come running out of nowhere to save you. Hell, if you're raped, there's a good chance random people who've never met you will blame you for it." - fraula
Do you define everything beneath the magnified, halogen light of your own suffering, or are you such martyrs that everything is reflected by and only contextually relevant inside the studied womb of the suffering of others? During the fall are you crushed by invented thoughts of a dead oak leaf seesawing down onto the cold blank face of a strangled child, such horror and tragedy leaving you wrapped around yourself and gasping on the sidewalk? Does a light on the horizon stagger you with flashbacks to a Nagasaki glimpsed only in grainy black and white? Three men laugh late at night - is it because of those depraved sexual tortures they inflict on a young girl, bound with gardening twine? Is every stranger’s glance the calculating gaze of a terrible predator, his wet erection pressed throbbing against his thigh, drool sluicing into his mouth as he fingers the switchblade in his coat pocket? Do the crickets cease their song because of a monster moving over them? Truly every dark corner of the earth must contain untold horrors for you.
posted by tumid dahlia at 3:50 AM on May 28, 2011 [12 favorites]
We're going for Dog that Make You Cry? Bridgestone - A Dog's Life .
posted by dabitch at 4:03 AM on May 28, 2011 [3 favorites]
posted by dabitch at 4:03 AM on May 28, 2011 [3 favorites]
... this thread started weird and got weirder.
posted by kyrademon at 4:19 AM on May 28, 2011 [7 favorites]
posted by kyrademon at 4:19 AM on May 28, 2011 [7 favorites]
I have to say, they didn't help the dude who got carjacked very much. Now he has a totaled beater with a lot of blood stains in it.
posted by codacorolla at 4:27 AM on May 28, 2011 [3 favorites]
posted by codacorolla at 4:27 AM on May 28, 2011 [3 favorites]
Needs more Cujo.
posted by It's Raining Florence Henderson at 4:27 AM on May 28, 2011 [1 favorite]
posted by It's Raining Florence Henderson at 4:27 AM on May 28, 2011 [1 favorite]
By which I mean, this thread needs more Cujo.
posted by It's Raining Florence Henderson at 4:28 AM on May 28, 2011
posted by It's Raining Florence Henderson at 4:28 AM on May 28, 2011
Also: I like the recent resurrection of big-beat style, cheesy, radio friendly house songs. Stereo Love gets my heterosexual american male blood going like no diva vocaled song should.
posted by codacorolla at 4:32 AM on May 28, 2011
posted by codacorolla at 4:32 AM on May 28, 2011
Those dogs should be on a leash. And who's scooping their poop?
posted by PeterMcDermott at 4:58 AM on May 28, 2011
posted by PeterMcDermott at 4:58 AM on May 28, 2011
Way to shit on a parade, fuq.
I liked the bit where the puppies, knowing they weren't as big or bloodthirsty as their brethren, used surprise and cuteness to make the car flip over.
posted by gjc at 4:58 AM on May 28, 2011 [3 favorites]
I liked the bit where the puppies, knowing they weren't as big or bloodthirsty as their brethren, used surprise and cuteness to make the car flip over.
posted by gjc at 4:58 AM on May 28, 2011 [3 favorites]
Do you define everything beneath the magnified, halogen light of your own suffering, or are you such martyrs that everything is reflected by and only contextually relevant inside the studied womb of the suffering of others? During the fall are you crushed by invented thoughts of a dead oak leaf seesawing down onto the cold blank face of a strangled child, such horror and tragedy leaving you wrapped around yourself and gasping on the sidewalk? Does a light on the horizon stagger you with flashbacks to a Nagasaki glimpsed only in grainy black and white? Three men laugh late at night - is it because of those depraved sexual tortures they inflict on a young girl, bound with gardening twine? Is every stranger’s glance the calculating gaze of a terrible predator, his wet erection pressed throbbing against his thigh, drool sluicing into his mouth as he fingers the switchblade in his coat pocket? Do the crickets cease their song because of a monster moving over them? Truly every dark corner of the earth must contain untold horrors for you.
...."Glistening, rippling muscles," Scalia added, mopping his brow.
posted by lalochezia at 5:51 AM on May 28, 2011
I get that this is a fantasia, just as I get that all the balloons in Paris aren't going to come and carry me away from a world of bullies, and yet, it really does capture a certain feeling that dog people, by which I mean incorrigible, incurable, stuck-right-in-it dog people like me know only too well.
When my dog Rose, my faithful companion of fourteen years, was on the floor at my feet, paddling in a whole body seizure that left her still, not breathing as I pressed my ear to her chest and cried like I have not cried over another person in my life, only to stir to life again for another moment, I said I'd never do it again. I'd never go through another full lifespan of a creature like that. It was a beautiful sunny morning, and she perked up from the seizure while my ex ran for his car, and we sat on the porch together and watched the traffic going by until it was time for me to scoop her up and carry her out to the car so we could race to the vet.
When she arched back in my lap and started paddling again as the scenery flew by, I said I'd never do it again. I'll never do this again. It's just too much. With the next revival, I slung her in my arms and leapt out of the car, crossing miles with the longest strides I've ever made, and I rushed in, through the office, calling for help which came from people who'd known her as long as I have, and we sat her on the stainless surface in an exam room and watched her stir again, struggling to sit up.
My ex and I came back together over years of separate lives, just for the moment, just there, to make the hardest decision one can make, and she sat up and watched us, and nothing was ever going to be right again. How do you tell someone to kill your friend, even when it's the only thing left?
The poison came and the breath went and went and went and went away forever.
I can't ever do this again.
When things really fell apart, when the family business crashed and the money went and everybody just seemed to die all at once, she was there. She'd wake up in the night, when I'd stagger out of bed, mumbling nonsense and sleepwalking in that curious, helpless sort of dance I do when things get really bad. I'd stumble out of bed, in a clumsy simulation of life, dress, and roam the house, chasing away the demons, and she'd stay at my side, watching out, shepherding my unconscious self throughout the night. When I'd wake myself up in the midst of some fruitless lower-brain ritual of trying to solve problems insoluble by my waking self, she'd be there, standing by, waiting.
Everything was noticed. Every noise, every movement, every activity. You'd find her at the window, eyes narrowed, standing by—waiting. Her breed was a sturdy, irascible lot, with genes combined through careful husbandry to produce a perfect machine for the protection of Chinese princesses, and here I was, the worst Chinese princess of them all, but you can't really pick your assignments.
I can't ever do this again.
Every dog was a taunt, a reminder.
Sure, you're lean and strong and amazing now, but I know where it's all going to end.
Fortunately, my willpower and my penchant for self-deception are powerful. I lasted five months. In five months, I did not sleep through a single night, cursing the fact that I'd never thought to set up a recorder to capture the symphony of snoring that an absurdly wrinkled snout can generate. You get so dependent on cacophony as a sedative that you can't help but feel its absence as a yawning, impossible void. The sleepwalker returned, and I'd find the house rearranged every morning. I started listlessly browsing the rescue sites, finding a face here or there, framed in preposterous ears, that just speaks, but I wasn't going to do anything, because I couldn't.
Even now, one of the clearest memories I have is of Rose, and that razor thin division in my history where she was breathing, and strong, and there, and when she wasn't anymore. I think of all the moments when she kept me company, put up with my ravings, and patiently followed me around the house through the night, to see me into the next day, and it's just why I'm here, writing this down, as a dog person.
"Dog," I said, standing in a parking lot in suburban Rockville with my quarry on a borrowed leash, wearing the little bandanna around her neck that they make the dogs wear at adoption fairs because it makes them 72% more lovable, "I am aware that you're going to break my heart in fourteen or fifteen years, so you owe me big time now, okay?"
Dog, as she was known on that day, as I refused to call her "Tammy," the shelter name she'd picked up in South Carolina, just sort of sniffed around, not fully invested in the notion of being my friend, because she'd been locked in a too-small crate and starved down to thirteen pounds for her whole puppyhood and knew big pink monkey people to be mean, complicated creatures. I dug a knuckle into her ridiculous radar dish ear and she made that little sound that Rose used to make when I'd dig a knuckle into her ridiculous backwards Dorito African Violet leaf ear, and that was just fine.
I will be 56 when I have to go through it all again, if statistics hold. Dog #2, following a year later, probably won't make it quite so long, as he's an older gentleman. With luck, I'll be wiser then, armed with poetry and history and all the things that make us so much more with every passing year, and this time, it won't catch me unaware or in the depths of denial.
These dogs save me every day, rushing to the door when I come home from another endless, frustrating day, and I can't help but laugh when Daisy jumps on me with some random object in her mouth, showing me the amazing thing she's found, or feel the tension in my head and heart subside when Lou, the smallest beagle in the world, leaps nearly to my chin, over and over, baying a full-throated hunting howl that's as a high and exuberant as a Japanese pop song played on a piccolo, despite his oversized dignity and gentlemanly bearing.
These damn dogs will never fend off a mugger, catch a burglar, or come up with a cure for cancer, but they save me from the storms and hazes of doubt and rage and hopelessness that catch me when I'm wandering down the daily dead-end lanes. When I'm most unsure of whether I'm up to the task of being human, when I've spent a day on the phone, unraveling one bureaucratic mess after another, wondering if I'm as smart as I think I am, or when I think that I'm destined to settle into a self-imposed hermit existence, comfortable with nothing more than my happy routines, they beg to differ.
I clump up the front steps, dig out my keys, step through the door, and they are waiting to tell me that I am, right there and right then, the single most important person in the entire world.
One day, they will each break my heart, but they earn the right to do so, in the way that dogs do, by rewriting the fabric of space and time with something as simple as the inscrutable mathematics of a well-timed tip of the head, and so it all goes on, day after day, as it should.
I get this fantasia, as sentimental, imprecise, and overwrought as it may be, because I am a dog person, now and forever—incorrigible, incurable, and stuck-right-in-it. Mine won't flip a car, but they can still carry me away from the worst of things, just when I need it most, and so I can't watch this video with a critical eye, because it touches my history, sparking the fuses like grey tendrils tangled in my head that set the old fireworks blazing.
We're a mess, we dog people, but that's okay.
posted by sonascope at 6:15 AM on May 28, 2011 [84 favorites]
When my dog Rose, my faithful companion of fourteen years, was on the floor at my feet, paddling in a whole body seizure that left her still, not breathing as I pressed my ear to her chest and cried like I have not cried over another person in my life, only to stir to life again for another moment, I said I'd never do it again. I'd never go through another full lifespan of a creature like that. It was a beautiful sunny morning, and she perked up from the seizure while my ex ran for his car, and we sat on the porch together and watched the traffic going by until it was time for me to scoop her up and carry her out to the car so we could race to the vet.
When she arched back in my lap and started paddling again as the scenery flew by, I said I'd never do it again. I'll never do this again. It's just too much. With the next revival, I slung her in my arms and leapt out of the car, crossing miles with the longest strides I've ever made, and I rushed in, through the office, calling for help which came from people who'd known her as long as I have, and we sat her on the stainless surface in an exam room and watched her stir again, struggling to sit up.
My ex and I came back together over years of separate lives, just for the moment, just there, to make the hardest decision one can make, and she sat up and watched us, and nothing was ever going to be right again. How do you tell someone to kill your friend, even when it's the only thing left?
The poison came and the breath went and went and went and went away forever.
I can't ever do this again.
When things really fell apart, when the family business crashed and the money went and everybody just seemed to die all at once, she was there. She'd wake up in the night, when I'd stagger out of bed, mumbling nonsense and sleepwalking in that curious, helpless sort of dance I do when things get really bad. I'd stumble out of bed, in a clumsy simulation of life, dress, and roam the house, chasing away the demons, and she'd stay at my side, watching out, shepherding my unconscious self throughout the night. When I'd wake myself up in the midst of some fruitless lower-brain ritual of trying to solve problems insoluble by my waking self, she'd be there, standing by, waiting.
Everything was noticed. Every noise, every movement, every activity. You'd find her at the window, eyes narrowed, standing by—waiting. Her breed was a sturdy, irascible lot, with genes combined through careful husbandry to produce a perfect machine for the protection of Chinese princesses, and here I was, the worst Chinese princess of them all, but you can't really pick your assignments.
I can't ever do this again.
Every dog was a taunt, a reminder.
Sure, you're lean and strong and amazing now, but I know where it's all going to end.
Fortunately, my willpower and my penchant for self-deception are powerful. I lasted five months. In five months, I did not sleep through a single night, cursing the fact that I'd never thought to set up a recorder to capture the symphony of snoring that an absurdly wrinkled snout can generate. You get so dependent on cacophony as a sedative that you can't help but feel its absence as a yawning, impossible void. The sleepwalker returned, and I'd find the house rearranged every morning. I started listlessly browsing the rescue sites, finding a face here or there, framed in preposterous ears, that just speaks, but I wasn't going to do anything, because I couldn't.
Even now, one of the clearest memories I have is of Rose, and that razor thin division in my history where she was breathing, and strong, and there, and when she wasn't anymore. I think of all the moments when she kept me company, put up with my ravings, and patiently followed me around the house through the night, to see me into the next day, and it's just why I'm here, writing this down, as a dog person.
"Dog," I said, standing in a parking lot in suburban Rockville with my quarry on a borrowed leash, wearing the little bandanna around her neck that they make the dogs wear at adoption fairs because it makes them 72% more lovable, "I am aware that you're going to break my heart in fourteen or fifteen years, so you owe me big time now, okay?"
Dog, as she was known on that day, as I refused to call her "Tammy," the shelter name she'd picked up in South Carolina, just sort of sniffed around, not fully invested in the notion of being my friend, because she'd been locked in a too-small crate and starved down to thirteen pounds for her whole puppyhood and knew big pink monkey people to be mean, complicated creatures. I dug a knuckle into her ridiculous radar dish ear and she made that little sound that Rose used to make when I'd dig a knuckle into her ridiculous backwards Dorito African Violet leaf ear, and that was just fine.
I will be 56 when I have to go through it all again, if statistics hold. Dog #2, following a year later, probably won't make it quite so long, as he's an older gentleman. With luck, I'll be wiser then, armed with poetry and history and all the things that make us so much more with every passing year, and this time, it won't catch me unaware or in the depths of denial.
These dogs save me every day, rushing to the door when I come home from another endless, frustrating day, and I can't help but laugh when Daisy jumps on me with some random object in her mouth, showing me the amazing thing she's found, or feel the tension in my head and heart subside when Lou, the smallest beagle in the world, leaps nearly to my chin, over and over, baying a full-throated hunting howl that's as a high and exuberant as a Japanese pop song played on a piccolo, despite his oversized dignity and gentlemanly bearing.
These damn dogs will never fend off a mugger, catch a burglar, or come up with a cure for cancer, but they save me from the storms and hazes of doubt and rage and hopelessness that catch me when I'm wandering down the daily dead-end lanes. When I'm most unsure of whether I'm up to the task of being human, when I've spent a day on the phone, unraveling one bureaucratic mess after another, wondering if I'm as smart as I think I am, or when I think that I'm destined to settle into a self-imposed hermit existence, comfortable with nothing more than my happy routines, they beg to differ.
I clump up the front steps, dig out my keys, step through the door, and they are waiting to tell me that I am, right there and right then, the single most important person in the entire world.
One day, they will each break my heart, but they earn the right to do so, in the way that dogs do, by rewriting the fabric of space and time with something as simple as the inscrutable mathematics of a well-timed tip of the head, and so it all goes on, day after day, as it should.
I get this fantasia, as sentimental, imprecise, and overwrought as it may be, because I am a dog person, now and forever—incorrigible, incurable, and stuck-right-in-it. Mine won't flip a car, but they can still carry me away from the worst of things, just when I need it most, and so I can't watch this video with a critical eye, because it touches my history, sparking the fuses like grey tendrils tangled in my head that set the old fireworks blazing.
We're a mess, we dog people, but that's okay.
posted by sonascope at 6:15 AM on May 28, 2011 [84 favorites]
And, with that, we really should close up this thread.
The video didn't make me cry, but sonascope did.
posted by tomswift at 6:24 AM on May 28, 2011 [2 favorites]
The video didn't make me cry, but sonascope did.
posted by tomswift at 6:24 AM on May 28, 2011 [2 favorites]
I'm reading this thread on my iPad while I lay in bed. Under the blanket next to me, in the space vacated by my wife, there is a brindle whippet named Emma. A while ago, she hopped up on the bed. Half-awake, knowing her habits as well as she knows mine, I lifted up the edge of the blanket to help her burrow under. In a few moments, we were both asleep.
It's a pack thing.
posted by Trurl at 6:29 AM on May 28, 2011 [2 favorites]
It's a pack thing.
posted by Trurl at 6:29 AM on May 28, 2011 [2 favorites]
Swedish House Mafia is a disgrace to Sweden. That is all.
posted by mr.marx at 7:02 AM on May 28, 2011 [2 favorites]
posted by mr.marx at 7:02 AM on May 28, 2011 [2 favorites]
fraula So when I saw that bulldog jump, my first thought was "oh shit this is going to be a bloodbath, who in their right minds would put a freaking bulldog attack in a music video" because bulldogs go for the trachea and, if they're honest-to-god attacking, never let go.
But it jumped to grab a sleeve? Like I said, the video's well-intentioned, but it's so, very, unrealistic.
Bulldogs are often used in schutzhund training, which is all about control and release, and there isn't any more risk to the target than any other dog. And it specifically targets the sleeve (a big padded one), which is probably exactly how the bulldog in the video was trained. This strikes me as blatant fear mongering and a lack of understanding of bully breeds.
posted by [insert clever name here] at 7:20 AM on May 28, 2011 [1 favorite]
But it jumped to grab a sleeve? Like I said, the video's well-intentioned, but it's so, very, unrealistic.
Bulldogs are often used in schutzhund training, which is all about control and release, and there isn't any more risk to the target than any other dog. And it specifically targets the sleeve (a big padded one), which is probably exactly how the bulldog in the video was trained. This strikes me as blatant fear mongering and a lack of understanding of bully breeds.
posted by [insert clever name here] at 7:20 AM on May 28, 2011 [1 favorite]
sonascope, you make an AWESOME Chinese princess
posted by Blasdelb at 7:38 AM on May 28, 2011 [1 favorite]
posted by Blasdelb at 7:38 AM on May 28, 2011 [1 favorite]
Holy hell, sonascope... way to make me weep like a baby. My partner and I are looking into getting a puppy, and I was feeling a bit reluctant-- it's been awhile since I had a dog, especially a puppy, and it's so much work and blah blah blah. You just reminded me of all the reasons I love dogs. Thanks.
posted by torisaur at 7:38 AM on May 28, 2011 [1 favorite]
posted by torisaur at 7:38 AM on May 28, 2011 [1 favorite]
- That white Afghan Hound at 1:17 (I think that's what it is) looks just like what I expect a post-ironic Swedish musician to look like these days.
- Checking out paulinsanjuan's link I got this horrible fear that 'Peruvian Cancer Foundation' was the name of some band, not an actual foundation that helps cancer victims in South America.
posted by benito.strauss at 7:39 AM on May 28, 2011
- Checking out paulinsanjuan's link I got this horrible fear that 'Peruvian Cancer Foundation' was the name of some band, not an actual foundation that helps cancer victims in South America.
posted by benito.strauss at 7:39 AM on May 28, 2011
this is how the world keep sinking deeper into a living hell. you sit, looking at calculated make-believe non-existent fairy tales, responding emotionally and left with a certain feel-good glow that tells you all is well, there are dogs after all, there is magical good in the world and it doesn't need anything from you. for fuck's sake. turn off the electronic Emote-o-tron, get off your ass, find someone who needs something and help them. move on to the next one. lather, rinse, repeat. that's how the world gets saved. and don't forget to feed the damn dog.
posted by quonsar II: smock fishpants and the temple of foon at 8:07 AM on May 28, 2011 [1 favorite]
posted by quonsar II: smock fishpants and the temple of foon at 8:07 AM on May 28, 2011 [1 favorite]
I was disappointed that the dog did not replace the shattered car glass window after rescuing the driver. With the proper tools, that's only a fifteen minute job.
posted by storybored at 8:08 AM on May 28, 2011 [3 favorites]
posted by storybored at 8:08 AM on May 28, 2011 [3 favorites]
Wow. Where's the pack of hero dogs to run in and help this thread?
posted by buzzv at 8:47 AM on May 28, 2011 [1 favorite]
posted by buzzv at 8:47 AM on May 28, 2011 [1 favorite]
Jesus, sonascope. Thank you for putting the words to what wells up in my heart often when I watch my dogs, who I am all too well aware will break my heart someday harder than it's ever been broken before.
and thanks for a good, hard cry.
posted by vers at 9:03 AM on May 28, 2011 [1 favorite]
and thanks for a good, hard cry.
posted by vers at 9:03 AM on May 28, 2011 [1 favorite]
I have just discovered that there is, apparantly, no Pancakes House Mafia. I think this should be remedied. A Pancakes House Mafia would be deadly, but delicious.
posted by It's Raining Florence Henderson at 9:24 AM on May 28, 2011 [1 favorite]
posted by It's Raining Florence Henderson at 9:24 AM on May 28, 2011 [1 favorite]
It's funny, quonsar—I tend to regard the fictional invocation of exultant moments as fuel for generating my own states of transcendence. It's so easy to get that beat-down feeling about the world, and to just sort of settle into an exhausted stasis, at least for me, so having the resources out there to tap into those artificial moments really gives me the ability to step away from that false equilibrium. The schlock, the glurge, the artificially profound—it's all as good as the actions the feelings provoke.
I'm always aware, or I try to be, that the internet is my green light at the end of a distant dock.
And as I sat there brooding on the old, unknown world, I thought of Gatsby’s wonder when he first picked out the green light at the end of Daisy’s dock. He had come a long way to this blue lawn, and his dream must have seemed so close that he could hardly fail to grasp it. He did not know that it was already behind him, somewhere back in that vast obscurity beyond the city, where the dark fields of the republic rolled on under the night.
Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that’s no matter—to-morrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther. . . . And one fine morning—
So I keep a little library of links. Videos to remind me why I step on stage when I hate to be in the spotlight, or why I keep writing and rewriting my own sordid history, hoping to tell the largest story in the least number of words, or what I'm up against in the scale of things. Sometimes, I just like little reminders of how splendid we are, a species just out of geological diapers and so very, very glorious in our reach. Sometimes, these things substitute for real heroism, but sometimes, they're a drug, or a shot of sugar to set the body in motion again.
If the feel-good glow does nothing but cast a momentary shadow, it's a waste, but even the shallowest, simplest, most mundane images can give us something to chase. This video's a pretty slight thing, catching me as much because I'm a bit of a raw nerve when it comes to dogs as it does because of craftsmanship, but maybe it'll tip the balance for some mefite who's been thinking about adopting a dog in the same silly way that a particular commercial produced a visceral emotional response that led me to buy my first brand new computer since 1983. The impossible task of saving the world can very often be reduced to the easier challenge of saving a world, on one's own scale.
The beagle I adopted last year was a free roaming stray from South Carolina riddled with heartworms, which had been mostly, but not fully cleared up when I got him (in a terribly sad procedure where the dog in treatment has to be essentially immobilized for months to prevent shreds of dead worms from giving him blood clots), necessitating a huge and unexpected outlay on my part in the time since he came to me. I don't suspect he has a clue that he's the most expensive free dog ever, but sometimes, he'll just sit on the couch and watch me with big eyes and that face like an avalanche of sadness for hours on end.
"What are you looking at, Lou? I'm just writing on the computer."
Ahm jus' lookin', is all. Yer jus' so fascinatin', sometimes.
So we beat on, boats against the current
And yeah, I know I'm being borne ceaselessly into the past, but I paddle on anyway.
posted by sonascope at 9:35 AM on May 28, 2011 [11 favorites]
I'm always aware, or I try to be, that the internet is my green light at the end of a distant dock.
And as I sat there brooding on the old, unknown world, I thought of Gatsby’s wonder when he first picked out the green light at the end of Daisy’s dock. He had come a long way to this blue lawn, and his dream must have seemed so close that he could hardly fail to grasp it. He did not know that it was already behind him, somewhere back in that vast obscurity beyond the city, where the dark fields of the republic rolled on under the night.
Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that’s no matter—to-morrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther. . . . And one fine morning—
So I keep a little library of links. Videos to remind me why I step on stage when I hate to be in the spotlight, or why I keep writing and rewriting my own sordid history, hoping to tell the largest story in the least number of words, or what I'm up against in the scale of things. Sometimes, I just like little reminders of how splendid we are, a species just out of geological diapers and so very, very glorious in our reach. Sometimes, these things substitute for real heroism, but sometimes, they're a drug, or a shot of sugar to set the body in motion again.
If the feel-good glow does nothing but cast a momentary shadow, it's a waste, but even the shallowest, simplest, most mundane images can give us something to chase. This video's a pretty slight thing, catching me as much because I'm a bit of a raw nerve when it comes to dogs as it does because of craftsmanship, but maybe it'll tip the balance for some mefite who's been thinking about adopting a dog in the same silly way that a particular commercial produced a visceral emotional response that led me to buy my first brand new computer since 1983. The impossible task of saving the world can very often be reduced to the easier challenge of saving a world, on one's own scale.
The beagle I adopted last year was a free roaming stray from South Carolina riddled with heartworms, which had been mostly, but not fully cleared up when I got him (in a terribly sad procedure where the dog in treatment has to be essentially immobilized for months to prevent shreds of dead worms from giving him blood clots), necessitating a huge and unexpected outlay on my part in the time since he came to me. I don't suspect he has a clue that he's the most expensive free dog ever, but sometimes, he'll just sit on the couch and watch me with big eyes and that face like an avalanche of sadness for hours on end.
"What are you looking at, Lou? I'm just writing on the computer."
Ahm jus' lookin', is all. Yer jus' so fascinatin', sometimes.
So we beat on, boats against the current
And yeah, I know I'm being borne ceaselessly into the past, but I paddle on anyway.
posted by sonascope at 9:35 AM on May 28, 2011 [11 favorites]
Swedish House Mafia is a disgrace to Sweden. That is all.
After seeing their stuff on bittorrent for a long time, I finally broke down and downloaded some months ago. Yuck. Bog standard club shit. But, as with club and event music in general, it's not the kind of stuff you sit at home and listen to through your high end speakers. It may very well work brilliantly on the floor; I know I've been surprised more than once by stuff that sounds awesome in that setting, and then you get home next morning listen on the speakers and it's bleh. Not to say there isn't some that works on home speakers as well, but it's rare, and the same Sturgeons Law applies there as with everything else: 90% of it is crap (make that 99.9% for club music in a home setting). So I'm open to the idea that SHM may work on the floor, but otherwise brrrr...
posted by VikingSword at 9:41 AM on May 28, 2011
After seeing their stuff on bittorrent for a long time, I finally broke down and downloaded some months ago. Yuck. Bog standard club shit. But, as with club and event music in general, it's not the kind of stuff you sit at home and listen to through your high end speakers. It may very well work brilliantly on the floor; I know I've been surprised more than once by stuff that sounds awesome in that setting, and then you get home next morning listen on the speakers and it's bleh. Not to say there isn't some that works on home speakers as well, but it's rare, and the same Sturgeons Law applies there as with everything else: 90% of it is crap (make that 99.9% for club music in a home setting). So I'm open to the idea that SHM may work on the floor, but otherwise brrrr...
posted by VikingSword at 9:41 AM on May 28, 2011
So I'm open to the idea that SHM may work on the floor, but otherwise brrrr...
It's cheese, but it works.
posted by empath at 10:30 AM on May 28, 2011
It's cheese, but it works.
posted by empath at 10:30 AM on May 28, 2011
I was disappointed that the dog did not replace the shattered car glass window after rescuing the driver. With the proper tools, that's only a fifteen minute job.
That would have required a Border Collie.
posted by ereshkigal45 at 10:30 AM on May 28, 2011 [4 favorites]
That would have required a Border Collie.
posted by ereshkigal45 at 10:30 AM on May 28, 2011 [4 favorites]
They did the essential mix of the year last year for the BBC recorded live at creamfields.
It's pure stadium house music. Crowds eat it up.
posted by empath at 10:37 AM on May 28, 2011
It's pure stadium house music. Crowds eat it up.
posted by empath at 10:37 AM on May 28, 2011
If you want to have nightmares tonight, imagine this exact same video.... only with a herd of cats being the ones attacking the bad guys instead of a pack of dogs.
posted by hippybear
If by 'nightmares' you actually mean "most awesome video ever," then sure, I'm right there with you.
posted by los pantalones del muerte at 1:01 PM on May 28, 2011 [3 favorites]
posted by hippybear
If by 'nightmares' you actually mean "most awesome video ever," then sure, I'm right there with you.
posted by los pantalones del muerte at 1:01 PM on May 28, 2011 [3 favorites]
I would imagine all the Swedish cats were occupied that evening at Ikea, and were therefore unavailable for crime fighting tasks.
posted by sonascope at 1:06 PM on May 28, 2011 [3 favorites]
posted by sonascope at 1:06 PM on May 28, 2011 [3 favorites]
It's cheese, but it works.
Ha! I was listening to this brilliant track from a great album, when I came across this FPP, so perhaps that influenced my less than charitable view of SHM. If I had more time and knew how to put together an FPP of this kind that won't simply be deleted as GYOB material, I'd love to do a post with tons of links to house and club stuff that I actually love and listen to at home - the theme of the FPP would be "stuff that works on a home stereo, but not necessarily on the floor and vice versa". I'm sure there would be arguments about what belongs where :)
posted by VikingSword at 2:34 PM on May 28, 2011
Ha! I was listening to this brilliant track from a great album, when I came across this FPP, so perhaps that influenced my less than charitable view of SHM. If I had more time and knew how to put together an FPP of this kind that won't simply be deleted as GYOB material, I'd love to do a post with tons of links to house and club stuff that I actually love and listen to at home - the theme of the FPP would be "stuff that works on a home stereo, but not necessarily on the floor and vice versa". I'm sure there would be arguments about what belongs where :)
posted by VikingSword at 2:34 PM on May 28, 2011
I don't know if it's my anxiety talking but dance music either gives me panic attacks or makes me dissasociate.
posted by Lovecraft In Brooklyn at 8:32 PM on May 28, 2011
posted by Lovecraft In Brooklyn at 8:32 PM on May 28, 2011
Six lines in and I knew that was sonascope. Ever since hearing about that Citroen, I keep thinking that I really need to make it over to the castle (as my nephew calls it) visible from my deck.
posted by postel's law at 8:52 PM on May 28, 2011
posted by postel's law at 8:52 PM on May 28, 2011
Creepy video to a really stupid song. That's one bad ass golden retriever, though.
posted by Lipstick Thespian at 12:19 PM on May 29, 2011
posted by Lipstick Thespian at 12:19 PM on May 29, 2011
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I mean, I guess it beats homeland security...
posted by NoraReed at 11:11 PM on May 27, 2011