I never really update my myspace. I probably should, but I should probably put a shirt on since it's cold out, and I'm not gonna do that either.

But for a general update ...

Yes, I'm working on another record. Or perhaps two records. It's hard to say at the moment. I have more than two albums worth of material written (currently in the process of recording it), and I don't really know how I'm gonna compile and present it all. But a new album is for sure en route, and the current  working title is  "We'll All Hang From Our Family Trees." So far it has a lot of pianos, and a song about a boy who nails hummingbirds to his wall because he can't see their wings while they're flying, among other things.

I'm also working on a record with a guy named Rickolus (www.myspace.com/rickolus) called "Clone." It's coming along swimmingly, and we're both pretty excited about it. We're about halfway done with it currently. And the plan is to have it all wrapped up over the Winter time. I have no idea what we'll do with the record when it's done, but we'll figure something out.

Beyond that, I'm about to start a new side-project called "Patients", and I'm working on wrapping up the B-sides from the last Electric President record with Alex this Winter break. If you want more info on any of this, I post about it in the news section of my webpage (www.radicalface.com). And I'm sorry for never updating this here profile, and for taking so long to answer messages. I always mean to sit down and do it, but wind up watching things on youtube or playing a video game instead. But you know, priorities.

I hope everyone is well.

-Ben

Some friends (Wudun, Rickolus) and I started a project around the idea of "assignment based composition." Basically, we come up with an odd way to write or compose, and then we post the results on our webpage. Some assignments are time based, some are lyric, some are about song structure, some are about recording.

The third assignment is now up (posted October 1st), so head to the website if you'd like to check it out.

Pizza promise,

-Ben

If I ever meet the person who invented pop-ups, I'm going to punch them in the crotch.

<3,

-Ben

I've been thinking about this lately, and Kano is one of the worst characters ever. In anything. I mean, his only abilities are a metallic red eye (that doesn't actually do anything; it just glows) and a five o'clock shadow. I'd like to have been a part of that meeting, when the Mortal Kombat team was presenting their ideas for characters. It probably went something like this ...

[fade in]

Sub Zero's creator has just finished his presentation, and for his finale, he does a roundhouse kick to a big block of ice that shatters into an ice sculpture of Yoda. Everyone in the room puts down their Cheeto's and applauds him with their ponytails, and one guy rolls a 20-sided die for no reason. Then they call up Kano's creator, who rubs his wolf t-shirt for luck as he steps up to the plate.

He pulls a velvety curtain from his wheeled cart, revealing an air-brushed mock-up of his character, and says, "Behold!"

"Please explain what your character does, Viper."

(Kano's creator legally changed his name from 'Chuck' to his favorite snake earlier in the year)

"Well, first things first. His name is Kano! I expect him to become popular enough that people will start using his name as a verb. As in, 'Do have a curfew tonight, Viper?' ... 'Ka-NO! My mom's out of town.'"

All the ponytails in the room make whip noises, and one guy bites into a Dorito. They approve.

"So, what does he do?"

"Well, he's got this metal plate on his face, and one of his eyes is red."

"Does he have an accent?"

"You better believe it! Australian!"

Scorpion's creator is so psyched about this that his ponytail karate chops the person next to him in the neck. The man drops his Guns N' Roses tape on the floor and passes out.

"What about abilities?"

"He doesn't even need them! He can just scowl and have a five o'clock shadow, and people will totally know how dangerous he is! That's how badass he'll be!"

"Is there anything else you'd like to add?"

"Ka-NO! I think I've made my point." Viper crosses his arms and smirks smugly.

At this point, a Rush song starts playing from an overhead speaker, and the room goes crazy. Mountain Dew is flung about, Funyuns erupt from the floor, and five of the staff members are suddenly battling it out in a LAN game.

[fade out]

So that's how I'm seeing it.

But really, how did Kano make the cut? Characters just don't get much crappier.

Cashiering at a book store was the first experience I’d ever had selling porn. It was really interesting, so I wrote down my thoughts on it.

You could always tell when it was a kid’s first time. He’d wait around until there was no one else in line, then ease on up to your register and place the magazine face-down on the counter, his I.D. right on top so you wouldn’t have to ask. He’d refuse to meet your eyes and his self-consciousness would be so thick you could poke it with a fork. Sometimes he’d have an aw-shucks kind of smile on his face, and if you were lucky, he might even giggle or grind the toe of his right shoe against the ground. Cute as a button.

Next there was the guy who went to great lengths to hide his purchase. He’d show up in line with a stack of magazines, so it would appear that he had lots of interests beyond naked girls, and it would consist of random picks like Guitar Magazine, Vogue, Penthouse, Martha Stewart Living, and Science Today. In a sense, he’d be paying twenty five dollars for five bucks of entertainment. I thought the charade was frivolous and I showed these people no mercy. I always rearranged the stack so that the Penthouse was on top, in clear view for everyone else in line. The guy, outraged that I’d foiled his plans, would usually open his mouth to berate me, and then he’d catch himself. If he said something out loud, he would only draw more attention to his shame, plus his disguise of nonchalance would be shot. I’d have him trapped. This may be a little mean on my part, but the way I see it, if you’re going to buy some porn, show a little balls. The people in the magazine do. (zing!)

Next were the middle-aged business types who had no qualms whatsoever about purchasing porn. Some would even be so brash as to spin it on your counter, drawing special attention to their purchase, as if they were excited and just had to share the news. But even these men would not break the cardinal rule: never purchase porn from the opposite sex. If I had a line with ten people in it and the girl next to me had a line with two, the man buying porn still stepped into my line. And when the girl would offer to take some more people over at her register, he’d graciously let others go before him. But not because he was nice—because he was embarrassed. With me, that same person would advertise the fact that he was buying Celebrity Skin. He might even ask me if I’d read it, and which woman I thought was the hottest. But he’d eat the thing before he’d buy it from a girl. Wuss.

The old men were my favorite, though. They came in two varieties, mostly.

Old Man A:
Dressed in a bomber jacket with a slight scowl on his face to show that, despite his years, he meant business; this one would always slap the thing down and give you a glare that said "I’m sixty years old and I’m buying porn — what the hell are you going to do about it?" They purchased on the offensive, almost challenging you to smile or say something smart. They’d pay efficiently, but not too quickly; wordlessly proving that they weren’t embarrassed, but did, in fact, have somewhere else they needed to be. Always a pleasure.

Old Man B:
This is the one you’d see on the porch at the end of your block, waving and smiling at anything that passed — whether it was a piece of trash that was caught in the wind or a dog on a skateboard. He’d probably have suspenders, a baby-blue button up shirt and chocolate colored slacks. He’d approach you’re register and ask you’re name, and when you told him, he’d say what a nice young man you were. Then he’d plop a copy of Jugs on the counter, licking his lips and gyrating slightly. This variety caught me off guard more than once, but was equally as entertaining.

The bathrooms were the biggest surprise for me, though.

Occasionally we’d get a customer complaint about the bathroom door being locked. I’d usually be forced to knock and ask if there was a problem. The person inside generally said nothing, hoping I’d be so confused from the lack of response that I’d think the doors had just locked themselves, or I was retarded. Then, when I’d come back ten minutes later to check on progress, the door would be left open in a way that suggested a hasty flight, and there, stuffed between the pipes under the sink, would be a slightly used copy of Playboy.

At first, I was baffled by this. I’d always considered masturbation a “comfort of your own home” kind of act. It didn’t really fit in with my views of “fun in a public restroom,” like pooping in the urinals or peeing in the sink. But some people took it further.

One night, my manager and I received a complaint that one of the ceiling tiles was caving in the men’s bathroom. The reason for this, we discovered upon inspection, was not a leak, as we suspected. Turns out someone had stashed a hoard of magazines up there — 14, to be exact. Apparently, for some people the pursuit of porn was a covert operation, involving carefully executed plans and stashing the loot in hard-to-find hiding places. But what I didn’t get was — what was all the trouble for? Pornography isn’t expensive. Somewhere between five and ten dollars, mostly. And if you’re creative enough to come up with the plan of hiding it in the ceiling, I’m sure you could figure out a way to just steal it. That’s what all the underage kids did.

I’m not judging anyone, though. I have nothing against porn. I’ve never bought it myself — that’s what the internet is for — but the amount of thought that goes into buying it surprised me. I’d always assumed it was pretty cut and dry. Lesson learned.