How They Rob Men in Chicago

Netflix just sent me the first disc of the 'Treasures of American Film Archive's' series. I love these things; they're always loaded with gems. Check it out at Amazon if you want.

Anyway, one of the selections wins my nomination for "best titled film under thirty seconds"--the aptly called 'How They Rob Men in Chicago' from 1900. It's pretty funny, too.

The mark is ambling along when he is distracted by what appears to me to be quite a nice lady, but whom University of Chicago film historian Tom Gunning assures us is actually a prostitute.

















Taking advantage of our hero's concupiscent absentmindedness, some ne'er do well emerges and brains the guy, lays him out cold, and takes his wallet.

















Next, a cop comes along and sees old Muggy McTophat on the pavement and proceeds to take what I assume is the guy's iPod or somethin'.















Sorry, Chum.
















That's how we rob a man in Chicago-- the old hooker-stare/brain-bash-one-two knock-out.

I Got A New Camera!

My birthday is this Sunday and my Dad got me a camera to take to England.

I know next to nothing about digital photography, but after some preliminary messing around with the thing in my Dad's back yard, the camera seems pretty good to me

Here's the very first photo: 'Still Life with Sticks 'n Junk.'

Eat it Andy Goldsworthy.

Broad Shoulders to Dreaming Spires

Having finally gotten all the paperwork together for my student visa, it seems like now is as good a moment as any to begin chronicling my year away at Oxford. Provided all goes well with the visa process, I'll be leaving Chicago for the UK at the end of next month. I'm a little anxious about the whole visa situation; already its been a nightmare to get the American immigration people to process my biometric data (digital fingerprinting and whatnot) for the British immigration folks. And until I know without a doubt that my application is approved, I'm going to be stuck with this nagging paranoia that somehow, unbeknownst to me, there is something in my record that'll prevent me from going. With my luck, Bush's phone tapping program cross-references the word "Cheney" with the the word "shit-sack," in which case like half of the phone conversations I've had since 2001 will be enough to land me in Guantonamo rather than London. Keeping my fingers crossed...