Things You Can't Do When You Don't Have a Video Camera

Among all of the crap posted on YouTube are a few gems. This one, in particular, makes me wish I had a video camera. It's also a good example of how you don't need a huge budget to make something worthwhile.

Leave VT Alone?

First came the media coverage of the tragedy at Virginia Tech. Now comes the media coverage of the media coverage. Did NBC glorify the shooter by distributing the disturbing pictures he sent the network? Is the media presence in Blacksburg too invasive? Definitely. But, all of the criticism is unlikely to make the media retreat. ABC reports sentiments like the one expressed in the picture at left are prevalent:

"The media frenzy at the Virginia Tech campus in Blacksburg, Va., has spurred resentment among family and friends who continue to mourn for the victims of Monday's shooting.

Anti-media signs have been spotted around the campus as the relationship between the community and the media becomes increasingly strained."

Students have been handing out pamphlets reading:

"We, the students of Virginia Tech, are asserting ourselves. We are taking back our campus. All media, if they have any respect for Hokie Nation, will no longer attack our administration. They will no longer hound our students. Leave us to heal. Leave us to ourselves. Hokie Nation needs to be UNITED. Return our campus to us."

It is, of course, an impossible request. And as a member of the news media, it's very troubling to realize that an event so traumatic for VT and the nation is a boon for media corporations' bottom lines.

Where is Kim Jong Il?!

I was thrilled to see an update on Newsweek's challenge to readers to update the wardrobe of Kim Jong Il in the magazine this week. A blurb encouraged me to visit xtra.newsweek.com to see readers' "astonishing" submissions, and pictures of the Korean dictator dressed as Henry VIII and the Easter bunny got me all giddy. So, imagine my disappointment when I find that the link doesn't work! It just takes me to the original gallery. I, of course, smell a huge conspiracy and cover-up, probably because Newsweek's readers were so upset the last time. At the end of the link to the story on Newsweek's Web site, it says: "Editor's Note: This feature will be published at a later date." What is that about? I'm going to write my first letter to the editor over this abomination.

Cat and Borat: A Scatological Short Story

Sometimes, as people with pets are wont to do, I mention my cats. A question sometimes follows: "Oh, how many cats do you have?" It is with great glee and poker-straight face that I answer, "Seven." If I can hold my composure, I glare at my judging prey and say, "What? I live alone, OK? I take care of them. It's not like I'm living in cat shit." They then, a lá Borat victims, have to decide whether to be polite or ask me what the hell my problem is.

Funny, right? Well the joke's on me. For the record, I have two cats. One, this blog's namesake, is a little rascal named Inky. The other, his regal companion Nico. Inky has extra-long black hair, and well, sometimes when he does his business, it gets stuck in said hair. It's gross, I know. But don't assume you know. Don't assume you know until you've knocked on a neighbor's door - as I had to do the other day - to ask him to come outside and help you hold down your cat so you can take the kitchen scissors and give him a "butt cut."

Inky might turning in circles in the shelter by now if it weren't for his adorable, affectionate personality. Nico, on the other hand, has stayed out of trouble. Until, that is, a few nights ago when, asleep in bed, I thought I must be sitting by a babbling brook. Or perhaps it was drizzling outside. Or, maybe, Nico was peeing in one of my expensive, knee-high boots.

Now, when people ask me how many cats I have, I have a different response: "I used to have two, but I drowned them both in the river."


Note: This is a fictional story. I would never, ever hurt any of my dozen cats or get angry when I find their excrement in my shoes.

Inky goes to Neko

If you look over to your right, Inky Mountain purports to offer commentary not just on journalism, but on music, too. Unfortunately, I've had to skip a number of concerts lately, mostly because I get paid to be a journalist and not a music fan. So, while Sparklehorse and TV on the Radio played Denver, I was probably frowning at this very computer screen. But, I did toss responsibility to the curb last Thursday when I went to the Gothic Theatre to see Neko Case, the sultry, sassy alt-country singer with the glass voice. I'm sure, Inky Mountain reader, that you don't care about the set list, so suffice it so say that Case was wonderful, as usual. Although, I will say the acoustics were better when I saw her perform at the Boulder Theater last year, and the opening band was painful. My cohort said it sounded like 1950s Christmas music, and she was dead-on. Anyway, I thought I'd write something about music because that was my intention. Oh! I almost forgot about the solo guy in front of us in line who was a dead ringer for the skinny, nerdy guy in the movie Road Trip. He was bouncing up and down and kept asking us if we were as excited as he was. Also, he was wearing the concert T-shirt to the concert, which I'm told is totally uncool.

Stay tuned for more insightful concert reviews that make you feel like you were there...That was supposed to be sarcastic, but you never know because soon there will be a very special edition of Inky Mountain with the working title of "Inky Goes to F'n Amsterdam." There are plans to see Andrew Bird and Wilco, but I'm not sure how much I'll be able to report on the shows because, you know, I don't speak French.

R.I.P. April Fool's Day

I'd like to recognize April Fool's Day here at Inky Mountain because, well, you've just gotta love a day that sanctions acting like an asshole, right? But unfortunately it's Sunday morning, and by this time of the weekend my supply of wit has usually dwindled. Today is no exception - but not because I was out late kicking up my heels. No, last night I turned in fairly early after having watched the documentary Jesus Camp, and the reason I can't think of a good April Fool's Day joke to play on my loyal reader is that I've realized nothing is funny anymore. Really, if you haven't seen the film I hate to be the one to tell you, but if some of these people have their way, very soon little Christian soldiers are going to be fighting little Muslim soldiers in the streets while all the adults dance and writhe on the sidewalks screaming "martyr!" Oh, and P.S., you're going to hell.

So, as much as I hate to do it, I'll have to leave all the tomfoolery to people who didn't recently have their senses of humor ripped away by scenes of 8-year-olds crying hysterically and screaming about the devil.

Your Life Is Now Complete. You're Welcome.

OK, so normally when I post something on Inky Mountain, I try to offer some kind of commentary or insight (ha!), but this video really, truly deserves to stand on its own: