Florian's work has caused many a staff member to stop, pause, and reflect upon in enjoyment, before scurrying off to attend to the latest Paper Stack #8704-1a Overturn Emergency in Room #445. Out of the world of metal/doom/punk/noise-inspired artists, his work stands out for being both excellently done while avoiding most of the hokey clichés that so many, many, M-A-N-Y bands/artists employ.

Some examples of his work are below. One may see (and purchase) more of his work at Shirts and Destroy.

See this man? He calls himself Time Master. He masters time.

See us? We call ourselves Triskaidekaphobia. We do not master time. Time has mastered us.

Being mastered does not pass muster.

We survived Georgia's 500-year floods, and haven’t been swallowed by kudzu—except, perhaps, metaphorically.

Kudzu, if you’re not up to date on your invasive flora, is groundcover that grows up to a foot a day. It grows over anything that doesn’t move: trees, roads, abandoned houses, power lines, and dead bodies. Along the highways and roads of the South, it’s common to see whole hillsides and ravines covered in the stuff, a vast, leafy alien desert surfaced by the slow-stalking weed.

Frankly, it can be a little unsettling.

Anyway—we have survived. More true tales from the Southern Expedition to come. In the meantime, you should peer into the office at work by following us on Twitter here.

Checking back on the continuous- and surreptitiously updating Obits website (guys, some RSS, please?), we found you can now have your own Obits live experiences, courtesy of the Free Music Archive. Choose from the original first concert, or their April 21, 2009 appearance on WFMU. Sweet bliss.

You don't even have to brave a sea of aging hipsters to see them--unless they're your roommates. In which case, you've got bigger problems than some digital downloads can solve.

- Sex Pistols, "Sub-mission", Never Mind the Bollocks, Here's the Sex Pistols

Southerners have the reputation of loving a good meal. Speaking from the vantage point of someone who doesn't care a lot about food (indeed, we have eaten the same meal for luncheon 11 years straight and have naught the slightest desire to change our meal one whit), the South sure has some great places to eat--even if their fare does exhibit the glaring flaw of varying from our usual lunch selection.

Prior to the Southern Expedition, there was concern that even urban/e Atlanta would present difficulties for the (roughly) 50% of our office that are vegetarians. Rumor was meat makes the meal, and not the murder, in the ATL.

Despite rampant meat love, vegetarian-friendly meals haven't been a problem. Waffles are always plentiful, and the Mexican/Cuban/Asian restaurants (and there are many) are rife with choices. Yet for all the gluttony--cheese grits, waffles, biscuits, gravies, pork-stewed collard greens, fried chicken, molasses, fried fish, fried cheese waffle chicken bacon pork biscuit gravy--there is one indulgent menu item that has been difficult to locate. One item that, as a native of the cold and obese northern rust belt regions, is conspicuously absent as a great food stuff in the obese southern lap band regions of Atlanta, leaving the bountiful cornucopia of food choices naked as a dogwood tree in winter. That item: the submarine sandwich.

A Sub by Any Other Name

Call it a sub, submarine, hoagie, grinder, bomber, or italian sandwich, its presence is near-universal in our beloved Buffalo, NY. Atlanta has its share of sub and sandwich places. It's not entirely for want of venue that we go unsated.

First, however, a word about the dining customs here. Many restaurants operate according to a practice less familiar to us simple, displaced Northerners. Subs/sandwiches are served only at meal-specific hours, and restaurants close curiously early. Sandwiches may be served, but only from 11am-4pm. Dinner places in good and/or college neighborhoods that close at 5, 6 or 9 pm... on a Saturday night? Unheard of. Useless. Ridiculous.

Furthermore, many of the so-called "sub" places do have subs--but exhibiting such a meager and paltry variety of options that any true Buffalonian--like your Baby Joe Mesis or your Robby Takacs--would scoff in disgust... before placing their order. If you don't like the six choices at the local place, maybe you'll like the five options at the regional chain down the road a-piece.

Submarine Sandwich Homesick Blues

It's not just the sub choices that are surprisingly weak. The subs themselves are pretty bland as well. Comprised of ingredients whose quality ranges from average to edible, what we've had so far manages to be--to paraphrase--almost wholly, but not quite, unlike a sub.

Confusingly, most places have no options for vegetarians. If they do have a non-meat sub, it appears to be made by someone who has no concept of what a vegetarian might like. These veggie subs seem to contain every non-meat topping the restaurant may have, without regard to the desirability and/or taste of the combined items. It's like a veggie sub designed by committee. You also run across "vegetarian" versions of standard fare--which will be the same, just minus the meat. No meat substitute, ala the veggie Whopper. This is pretty lame.

But, even more curious, is the absence of that handy and hardy default standby of vegetarians--the cheese sub. One wonders why. Easy to make, all the ingredients already in stock, filling, streamlined, satisfactory to children or fussy eaters or vegetarians (and any combination thereof), digitally restored, strong, durable, hardy, wonderful colors, beautiful patina, aromatic, delightful company, fast transfer speeds, extended range, more miles to the gallon, and overall pleasant personality, it would seem incredibly obvious to have it on the menu. REALLY, INCREDIBLY OBVIOUS. In a place where they love fatty/fried foods, cheese love would seem natural. Perhaps it has something to do with expense or the heat or being generally unloved or some other deep-seated regional psychosis? No idea. Some places have a "Swiss Cheese" sub--a single cheese choice that feels as unnatural as being forced to have only one Replacements album or one wife. A few places have Peanut Butter and Jelly as an option. An inspired choice! but PB&J does not a dinner make.

The hunt continues. Foodie Buddha is currently conducting a Sub & Sandwich tour of Atlanta. Their list was helpful in selecting places to scope out, although none seemed able to meet our relatively simple criteria:

1. a passable vegetarian option
2. the possibility of a meatball sub, and
3. open beyond the 6-9 p.m. range on a Friday or Saturday night

As if This Wasn't Enough Already, Here's Our Highly Opinionated Critique Thus Far:

Unique Pizzeria: The first attempt, born out of desperation. Saturday night. Everywhere closed. No cheese sub. This was before knowing better. We asked them to make one and they asked "what sort of cheese do you want?". When we listed multiple, they asked again. Ah. One sort of cheese, like the "Swiss Cheese Sub" above. Still full price, too. The subs came wrapped in aluminum foil. We later learned this may be in emulation of Chik-Fil-A. We admired the pluck, but won't return.

Savage Pizza: Had the advantage of being open late--by which we mean they were still open at 9pm on a Saturday, and not closed at 5 pm as if it were a country Sunday, the way other places do. Even though the only vegetarian option was an Eggplant Parmasean sub--a notoriously dodgy dish--we gave it a go. The result? Eggplant sub was mushy, tasted, vaguely, like a general representation of what one would call an "italian" flavor. Mostly tomato sauce. Edible with chips. The meatball sub was a loser. The meatballs were made with huge, unwanted/-advertised chunks of onion in them. Why do restaurants do this? Places that don't warn about onions in their dishes are invariably run either by grandmas, or balding, mustachioed men, dressed in garments that don't breathe, whose apartments smell like chain-smoking, luncheon meats, and the 70s. Never again.

Dave's Cosmic Subs: Has a 60's rock vibe, provided by both the name and web backstory. Out of the many places web-surveyed, they seemed to have one of the better menus. But, upon pick up, the Dave's Original Garden Burger (Hot Subs!) sub was only lukewarm. That may be our fault. The roast beef sub was middling. That was not our fault. Odd fact: they use shredded cheese on the subs, not sliced. Best overall experience, so far. The only place that might get a second shot. Maybe a pizza sub next time, though.

The 2007ish Phrase UR Doing It Wrong Comes to Mind

Look, lousy sandwiches wouldn't be so strange if Atlanta didn't have a rich and varied multi-cultural selection of great food, but it does, and this (apparently simple) food item is very hard to find. I can honestly say that you could pick any three sub places in the Buffalo, and not get subs this bad.

Discouraging, to say the least. So discouraging, in fact, that we've given up looking for now. We'll be watching the web and streets and tweets for any excellent selections. Until then, it's just another peculiarity of the Southern Expedition.

Last year we had little to celebrate. Our beloved Buffalo, NY was losing another of its few record stores. Home of the Hits, New World Record, and Ruda's--all gone. It hurt... oh man, did it hurt. Buying online is great, but it's not the same.

Even though there was a seemingly endless list of awesome goodies for Record Store Day (Walk Among Us on 140 gram? Sold!), our current economic crisis and War Against Things made it doubtful we would attend. The War Against Things means getting fewer things, not more, after all.

Then we saw the Obits 7".

We love the Obits. These tracks weren't available digitally. We were going to Record Store Day.

Atlanta has some great record stores, including Criminal Records in the Little Five Points area of the city. It's like a bigger New World Record or Newbury Comics.

Our plan was simple: strike early, strike quickly. Ignore the temptations of the regular selections. Do not look at the used cds. DO NOT LOOK AT THE USED CDS. Exclusives only.

Getting to Criminal just before opening at 10 a.m., we saw our plan was wise. A huddled mass of music dorks clustered around the front door. The doors opened, and the herd trampled towards the call "Record Store Day exclusives are down here". What the bulk didn't hear was "Seven inches are here"--behind the front registers.

Looking at the 7"es was fine until a man, herd leader, asked for a single and was pointed towards the registers. Then a towering wall of music dorks swamped the area, eyes wild, nostrils flaring, as they began communicating with the alphas behind the counter, in their strange, almost nonsensical, calls. "Can I have the Grizzly Bear, a Flaming Lips, and the Sonic Youth?", "Where's the Bob Dylans?", "Do you have the Dr. Dog?", "Wilco?" &c.

More importantly: we were getting snaked.

Situation amended, precious tiny circles of vinyl payload in hand, we browsed the other selections JUST LIKE WE SAID WE WOULDN'T. Fool! However, using the exercises we've learned (count to three slowly, focusing on breathing, picturing ourselves living out of a shopping cart), we were able to resist the siren call of sweet, unpurchased music. Mostly.

Obligatory Chicago-related purchase: Thrill Jockey Records Toreism 12"

Obligatory Chicago-related regretful non-purchase: The Jesus Lizard Inch 7" collection. Awesome, cool idea and packaging. But we already own all of those 7"es. We're trying to save money. Sorry, guys.

Unintended Benefit of the Obligatory Chicago-related regretful non-purchase: Happy hours spent browsing for it on eBay in the years to come.

Being an anonymous music collector in a new city has its advantages. For example, you're unlikely to run into that guy who was in that band that was sorta lame that you asked to open for you one time because he was nice but you really have nothing to say to him when you see him. Even better, you're unlikely to BE that guy who was in that band that was sorta lame that was asked to open for someone once because you were nice but they really have nothing to say to you when they see you. But you do miss the personal touch, a little.

So, one of the best things at Record Store Day? When it came time to check out, the clerk recognized us from before and gave a wry smile. A sort-of "Yeah, I get it" moment: The vinyl, the CD, the showing up to check out 45 minutes after coming into the store to grab one 7" and leaving with three 7"es, a 12" single, and a CD, the whole "it" of buying music at a record store at 10 a.m. before coffee, shaving, or showering because, you know, WHAT IF ALL THE GOOD STUFF IS GONE? Yeah, that.

Thanks, Criminal Records, for making it a good day. You'll never replace our Home of the Hits, but you make a great replacement.

Oh, the records? They all KICK ASS. Totally worth it. Improved our living conditions by a noticeable margin. Take THAT, economic downturn!

1. A variety of nut--a la pistachio, filbert, cashew--that is no longer in vogue and must be substituted
2. An opinion piece advocating a gene pool-cleansing attack on bridge (as a structure) enthusiasts around the world
3. An opinion piece advocating a gene pool-cleansing attack on bridge (as a card game) enthusiasts around the world
4. A story of political ill will, where the leaders of the Bridge party are being called out, either by members of the opposition Tunnel party, disgruntled and/or moderate members of their own party, or by some of the seemingly non-partisan but actually heavily biased members of the public that news outlets favor for outraged quotes in order to support their pre-disposed-to-anti-Bridge stories, over some alleged wrongdoing
5. An earnest story about the lack of serious psychological testing for the crews of international container shipping boats, using and introducing to the public the sailor's slang of "bridge nuts", used to describe captains or other crew members who are psychologically unsound, and the problems this can bring about, especially in situations such as the recent increase in troubles with pirates
6. It refers to a serious flaw in the underlying structure of the rules of gameplay, either new rules as part of a variation on the game, or an obscure part of competition-level gameplay, generally unknown and/or seriously obscure to most members of the general public, that must be remedied to prevent scandal in cutthroat world of international Bridge competition
7. Faulty dental apparatuses have shipped to the public, and now must be replaced in order to prevent blowouts as the season of candy apples approaches
8. An opinion piece advocating a gene pool-cleansing attack on bridge (as a dental apparatus) enthusiasts around the world
9. An opinion piece advocating a gene pool-cleansing attack on bridge (as a dental apparatus-oriented sexual fetish) enthusiasts around the world
10. An Onion-style opinion piece, written for humor's sake, wherein a fake columnist calls for the immediate replacement of any public figures who have a deep and passionate love of Simon and Garfunkel's 1970 hit song "Like A Bridge Over Troubled Water"
11. An Onion-style opinion piece that turns out to be real, written out of curiously displaced fury, wherein a columnist calls for the immediate replacement of any public figures who have a deep and passionate love of Simon and Garfunkel's 1970 hit song "Like A Bridge Over Troubled Water", thus further signifying our global society's impending fall due to some undetected chemical poisoning, much like the Romans and their lead pipes, plates, and cutlery, as anti-SLS or -Paraben conspiracists (for example) are wont to believe
12. An Onion-style opinion piece that turns out to be real or fake, written out of a deep but perhaps misplaced compulsion, wherein a real (or fake) columnist calls for the immediate culling of an obscure, yet devout, pocket of James Brown fans, who call themselves the "Bridge Nuts" due to the late singer's propensity to take his musical ensemble to the "bridge", and who now meet at bridges (of the sort that are a structure carrying a road, path, railroad, or canal across a river, ravine, road, railroad, or other obstacle) thus further signifying, etc., some ibid. conspiracists (and so on)
13. A missing hyphen that changes a run of the mill story headline about the All-bridge Fastener Company into something far more vague
14. Something involving testicles

1. Does the fact that two of the major influences on Triskaidekaphobia--Dyngus Day and the Number 13--are colliding on the same date this year, in a truly spectacular and unheralded display of coincidence, offer definitive scientific proof that this first year abroad in a new environ--uprooted from the lands of our ancestors, adrift in a sea of Southernness, beset by grits and melted chocolate bunnies with nary a fit cheese pierogi in site--that all these hardships will, as they were for our father's father, and our grandfather's father before him, be rewarded with a true and just blessing, as if from the blackened hand of Our Lady of Czestochowa herself, or St. Theresa, or, maybe, a ghostly apparition of the sure-to-be-sainted Pope John Paul II, that shall fuse the two influences into one powerful totem, like a Polish Voltron (Poltron?) excepting three of the five component lions, and presented in the tasteful shape of a Powerful Mechanized Pink Flamingo, wearing a crown of 13 falcon-shaped stars, instead of a lion, and, when presented in humanoid shape, transformed, that said humanoid shape will be revealed as the blessed Karol Wojtyla aka Pope John Paul II aka Beloved Kitchen Wall Decoration of Our Beloved Grandparents, God rest their souls, in this Year of 13ths, 2009, powerful uprooter and reshaper of all that is known and known? and,
2. What are we going to do for Dyngus Day?

We are not alone. These are the questions that everyone has on their minds these days. The answers, however, are, respectively, simple:

1. Yes
2. We're going to improvise

Why?

We can't go to the Broadway Market, per tradition, because we aren't in our beloved Buffalo, NY, and there doesn't appear to be an Atlanta equivalent. There aren't good pierogis, and don't get us started on vegetarian kielbasa. And, while we can now fire off water guns to our hearts' content without risk of frostbite, we can't find a pussy willow to save our dyngus.

Tsk, Southerners. They've got Mardi Gras with its numerous floats and baubles wired, but ask them to find you a pussy willow and its all uncomfortable stares and "I reckon"in'.

No matter. It's the spirit, not the location. Wherever you may be, celebrate! If you're in Buffalo, you can celebrate a little bit more easily. To really feel the Dyngus experience: put on traditional Polish costumes, a few tunes, maybe watch a (homemade) video, seal it with a kiss, and then a adult beverage. Or two.

If you drink enough, you will also learn some important truths. For example, check out this page: http://www.vatican.va/holy_father/john_paul_ii/. How many fingers do you see? Just about eight? After that third Tyskie, come back and check out the classic story of the Eight-Fingered Pontiff. The truth may surprise you!

Until then, say it loud and proud on this April 13th Dyngus Day: Mój poduszkowiec jest pełen węgorzy!

If someone says "Spierdalaj dupek!", why, you've made a new friend!

Nie pije całe piwo!

That, gentle readers, is a melted chocolate bunny. Out on the shelf at Walgreens. For sale.

Don't think that is just one unfortunate bunny. Oh no, there's a whole pride of melted chocolate bunnies available for the discerning consumer. Just look:

Forgive the iPhonetastic photo quality. Melted chocolate bunnies are skittish in the wild, and our photographer needed to act quickly to catch them.

Perhaps you can catch one for Easter? Or, jus' fer eats, if'n ya don't celebrate the Easter?

--Theodore Levitt, Creativity is Not Enough (from Brian Collins)

We've been thinking long and hard along the very same lines recently. A post on the topic is sure to come.

- Greg Grandin, "Green Acres: Lost in the Amazon"

There is also a unique paradox that goes with this, in which the individual is both feared and admired, a role model and a villain--occasionally at the same time.

At the same time this became news, the governor passed a law to charge speeders $200 more depending on where they're caught, and $400 more when they try to renew their licenses.

Huh.

This seems to be a convoluted logic, but our reckonin' might be off.

As pointed out by Senator Tom McCall in the video linked below (worth watching just for his quotes):

I'm just of the opinion, that we don't need one more government amendment telling me that I have to wear a seat belt

The law obviously doesn't tell one they have to wear a seat belt, just that one will be fined if they don't. Like many laws, it's imposing a penalty if you fail to follow an agreed upon convention. It's like arguing against a law telling one they have to not speed. A person can--they'll just be fined if they do.

The reasons for this lack of seat belts is unsurprisingly tied to lobbyists, rural areas, agriculture, state's rights, david v. goliath, red v. blue, good v. evil, trucks v. cars, ford v. chevy, king cotton, and probably the War Between the States, in some way.

Hey, to each their own, it just doesn't make a lot of sense to us.

This does help put into the context, however, the observation that a casual attitude towards safety has been noted about the South, previously.

In his right hand, the wheel.

In his left hand, a chocolate-covered, vanilla, ice cream bar on a stick. 3/4 eaten, with wrapper at the bottom.

It was 8:15 a.m.

Oh, South!

I did a poster (for FREE) which was never used because the band imploded before the tour began ... they LOVED IT (exact quote : "top class, the boys love them...") ... I told them, via email it is doable, let me work up a cost.

The show is cancelled. Now it's four months later and Los Mondo Bongo plays Toronto--a mere 90 minutes from our beloved Buffalo, NY. Friends report back to Mark that his poster is being used. He checks the band's MySpace page, and sees the rip off in full effect.

Someone took a low res PDF (that I sent them to proof by) and built a new poster from the same artwork! Same fonts (Rosewood regular and fill), same colors, same graphics and same layout! ... I would love to know who the 'artist' was who did this, and if they felt justified in taking my graphic design work-- which I did as a favor and did not get paid for-- and stealing it for several gigs by the same band.

Seriously shitty. This sort of thing can happen, but never should be allowed to pass unnoticed... especially in today's highly linked and searchable world.

Oh Joe, is nothing sacred anymore? They should be ashamed of themselves.

-Acquaintance, speaking to our ethical concerns over the Bodies exhibit, and the controversy of how the bodies are obtained, preventing us from going.

In the North, at least one pretends that they have an ethical concern, even if one is going to go.

For the record, we did not go.