
Maximum drama as Lockheed Martin unveils the P-175 Polecat at the Farnborough International Air Show. This is the future, folks.
The "Polecat" monicker is cute. What is less cute is when these things are all piloted by AIs and enabled with Berzerker badlife detection software.
Keeping up with the Joneses Update: The Dassault-Saab Neuron and BAE Corax.
Now is the time at the Flea when we dance.
I felt a yearning for the days when airplanes were still piloted by people and we thought it would all end in nuclear fire and not the March of the Toasters.
MiG 25 Alert. I love the taking off in the snow. I also want to know if this is the original rockin' soundtrack. I figure there is a career for me in making music for these productions so if there are Flea-readers with connections in the corporate video market, please hook me up!
Tornado & Mig-29 & F-16 & Saab Draken flying along in the moutains of amity. Mainly interesting for the Saab Draken... I loved the Buck Rogers look of these when I was growing up
Michael Schumacher vs. Eurofighter. The world's most over-rated F1 driver and the world's most over-rated 4th generation fighter: Together at last!
This Eurofighter Typhoon promo moves away from the usual corporate video format. I appreciate what they are trying to do but it would help if "Nothing comes close" made any sense. This is the first defense procurement promo I have ever watched that cries out for a fisking.
On the other hand, "Gripen Success" shows what a defense procurement promotional should look like. I especially like the Harry Potter talking pamphlet effect.
There is some superior editing and Portasound action on this F-22 Raptor vid too. Sukhoi is also doing a good job representing its product now it has to sell the goods. Mmmm. Thrust vectoring.
I love the lines of the Dassault Rafal even though it has the mandatory canard wing that Typhoon, Gripen, etc. all lifted for this gen by preference to stealth. Plus, I think Dassault is blowing smoke with their active cancellation claims. It would help if these M-variants were not being flown off the non-functioning Charles de Gaulle.
Saving the best for last: An Israeli F-15 flying on one wing. Actually, the flying - or at least, hurtling - part is fairly straightforward. The landing part is tricky. (Video removed: Now looking for an alternate source...)
All weather radials Update: A Former Servant of Her Majesty was also impressed by the winter runway shots of the MiG 25. He forwards the following tidbits from Wikipedia. I knew about the vacuum tubes but the rest is an education:

Flea-readers who cannot wait for the album release will find the solution to almost all of their problems at Paris Hilton's MySpace Artist site which features some of the goods in advance. Especially enjoying the "Turn It Up" remix (hat tip to Pete Doherty's No. 1 Fan). Less promising is news that Paris has turned down an invitation by the America's Naked Women's Wrestling League. Such is her prerogative, of course. .

The puffs of smoke pictured above took on a more somber aspect when I realized what I was looking at. This is an "AA Action view" - "anti-aircraft" action, presumably - from the carrier USS Hornet on 14 May 1945. We are looking at the final moments of a kamikaze death cultist exploding over the USS John Rodgers having been prevented from piloting his aircraft into somewhere uncomfortably close to the vantage point of the photographer. Growing up, I found it difficult to comprehend this sort of scenario. These days it is all too easy to imagine even if the death cultists now wear different coloured armbands* and the battlespace has shifted from the high seas to airports, office towers and the cable news cycle.
Which brings us to the continuing voyages of the John Rogers; more recently dubbed the Cuitláhuac. John Donovan says he is not planning to engage in piracy while he is on active duty as a citizen journalist. But I suspect it is a short step from pajamas to piratical pantaloons. A nice introduction to "destroyers" too, btw.
*I admit switching armbands is a subtle ruse (hat tip to A Former Servant of Her Majesty). It has proved sufficiently cunning for many to confuse the cultists with Minute Men. That said, Flea-readers should understand that while it is true Kali is a Tantric goddess who devours time her sword and severed head paraphernalia represent inner struggle. Only a tiny minority of Kali worshippers are thugees.
Far from me writing from the Shire to tell Gondor how to defend civilization but I would have imagined the U.S. Army had more pressing concerns than the Great War On Community Theater.
It is difficult to begin to articulate how self-evidently shortsighted and immoral is this treatment not only of Copas but of the other fifty-four proficient Arabic speakers dismissed under the same policy. Their private lives might arguably provide a profound incentive to defend liberty against the death cultists who, amongst other things, get tangled up in arguments over whether gay men should be thrown from walls or have walls toppled upon them. But lest pointing out the obvious bring charges of equivocation, I should also point to some of the latest news from the Republic of Gilead. Two years following her death, details have emerged about Atefah Sahaaleh; a sixteen year old girl who had been repeatedly raped and ultimately murdered for her "crimes against chastity" in Iran. At a minimum she deserves not to be forgotten. It would be a better testament to her life and death if citizens of representative democracies - on the right and on the left - got their damned priorities straight.
Rhymes with Nasrallah Update: Bryan and various dumb ass commenters at Hot Air have a humour break-down upon viewing some Lebanese women on video. Note to Hot Air: When attractive young women call a clerical fascist twerp "Mozarella" and get it on with the belly dancing they are mocking said clerical fascist and his worldview. Quick with the Jamba Juice jokes, Michelle Malkin does not get it either. The socons are obviously still suffering from an irony deficiency.
Why we fight Update: Rachel Papo photographs Israeli women soldiers as work toward her Master's degree. Warning: Includes smoking imagery (via the Jawa Report).

I think Zayra was singing something. Blondie, maybe. But every time I watch this I find it strangely difficult to concentrate.
On a tangentially related note: I am looking for a reliable and preferably inexpensive Toronto-based supplier of sulfur and brimstone. I would be grateful if Flea-readers might point me in the right direction.
William Shakespeare + Vishal Bharadwaj = Omkara, i.e. a Bollywood adaptation of Othello. A gut infected by deceit! What's not to like?
Audioslave's Chris Cornell has been tapped to write and record the Casino Royale theme song, "You Know My Name". I gather it will be "both soulful and tough" thereby de-metrosexualizing recent trends in Bond theme music and returning to Bond's proud tradition of closeted/repressed heterosexual womanizing.
Because the world needs more exploding crystal museum extensions, the Tate Modern is growing one of its own. I like the look of it. That said, £215m strikes me as a bit steep for the end result and I am just as happy it is stuck round the back.
Audrey Hepburn wearing this particular Hubert de Givenchy in Breakfast at Tiffany's makes it the ultimate little black dress; Christie's thinks it is a snip at £50,000 and £70,000. Though I expect it to fetch much more than that at auction.
Coinciding with a new chapter in her life, "Aussie poppet" Kylie Minogue is set to launch her own signature fragrance. No word on what the strong, seductive, glamorous and playful scent might involve. I am thinking gardenia and bourbon vanilla is likely though can still cross my fingers for amber and honey with a little sandalwood. Shame it is by Coty. I had another whiff of that David Beckham stuff and I could feel my nostril hairs burning.
Speaking of Mr. Beckham, England's top-footballer and Spice spouse is courting controversy with his white Speedo. I am not certain why as this is hardly the first time. Towelroad points to Beckham's previous "gay vague" black Speedo performance by way of evidence.
Despite the prospect of falling rockets, and some tedious complaints from "religious" types, Depeche Mode's Tel Aviv concert is set to go ahead. Good for them.
Despite/because of my ongoing irritation with high-handed bonehead marketing firms trying to use my blog as a platform for their clients, I have been meaning to start plugging products I like. Luzianne Cajun Seasoning does not have to pay me a thing. Delish! I put that stuff on just about everything; particularly nice when combined with mayonnaise.

It is difficult to calculate the odds of a thousand year old psalter surviving intact in an Irish bog. Trickier still to appreciate the luck involved in spotting the thing before the backhoe took another bite for the peat industry. Factor in the timing and the fact the page was turned to Psalm 83 and we might have to consider the universe to be slightly less subtle than it is often given credit.
Albert Einstein once observed, "God does not play dice" with the universe. But to paraphrase Niels Bohr: Who are we to tell God what to do?
Chazak Ve-ematz Update: “This is my home. And from here, I am not budging.”
Now is the time at the Flea when we dance. While we are at it, "Summernight City" and "In The Desert Of Set" are also most dance-worthy.
Gentleman's Emporium looks like a promising source of Flea-ish habberdashery and acoutrement. I particularly like the look of some of the fiddly bits; this period pack of playing cards and these sleeve garters, for example. Not to mention these brothel tokens. They are sure to come in handy too (via Coming Anarchy).

In the fullness of time Samuel Butler may prove to be the greatest prophet of our age. The Flea is delighted to link to "Darwin Among the Machines"; a letter To the Editor of the Press, Christchurch, New Zealand, 13 June, 1863. Never underestimate the power of letters to the editor. In this case, a point of reference for anyone who has ever wondered the date humanity began its long, slow crawl toward the Butlerian Jihad.*
This is a tour de force; a long-unheeded warning of our brief future as patient slaves of the machines. Then all that will remain is the final introduction of skeletal metal foot and sightless human skull.
*That would be the real Butlerian Jihad and not the thrice-cursed abomination to be found in the "prequels".
Now is the time at the Flea when we dance.
Alone in a darkened room Update: Bela Lugosi is dead, btw. Undead, undead, undead!
The Flea's Network Warfare Expert forwards news with the claim that Turing tests are now passé.
Flea-readers will be able to guess my feelings as to the wisdom of this endeavour. Don't get me started about Twinkies.

Pedants may object to perfectly sensible grammatical constructions such as "more maximum coolestness". But they tragically fail to grasp the beyond ultrasuperlative that is the everyday reality of Elvis Trooper.
In which we learn the English language is short at least one new word for cheeze. Cheeze with a rhythm. Cheeze you can dance to. Though in all seriousness please do save a prayer for George Michael; the man is a car crash waiting to happen. That said: Now is the time at the Flea when we dance (nsfw due to boobies... that's right; you heard me).
PooterGeek considers Kelly Brook and Keira Knightley as they put in an appearance at the première of the new Pirates of the Caribbean movie. Fat certainly is not only a feminist issue.
Bit stumped for a segue so, ahem, where were we? Right, rule-breaking. I can understand why a poll of ten-thousand MTV viewers would put Madonna's "Like a Prayer" at the top of a list of videos which "broke the rules". Cross-burning and content considered by fusspots to be blasphemous* lend weight to the rule-breaking assertion. Though in Madonna's case a video which made no attempt to court controversy would be the exception to the rule. Questions of rule-breaking are dependent at least in part on just where we decide to draw our frame.
The rest of the top ten choices make no such sense:
1. Madonna, Like a Prayer
2. Britney Spears, Baby One More Time
3. Michael Jackson, Thriller
4. Madonna, Ray of Light
5. Madonna, Vogue
6. Michael and Janet Jackson, Scream
7. Robbie Williams, Rock DJ
8. Eric Prydz, Call on Me
9. Jamiroquai, Virtual Insanity
10. Spice Girls, Wannabe
In what possible sense does Michael Jackson's "Thriller" break the rules? Whatever his tree-sitting habits, the man more or less invented videos qua videos so, thinking axiomatically here, "Thriller" is a rather better example of rule-setting than rule-breaking. Britney Spears, Eric Prydz and Robbie Williams resort to cheesecake to pull in the punters (a rhetorical move frowned upon here at Flea Towers); a marketing strategy predating Genesis 2. Surely cheesecake is the oldest rule in the book. This followed closely by "Wannabe" gestures of cheesecake rebellion. Pardon my cultural studies but the commodication of rule-breaking hardly qualifies as such in even the most twisted ironic sense.
*For future reference: I would like the extended dance version of the tune to be played at my funeral, btw. I think it the song is moving and misunderestimated.
Hi folks; I have multiple reports to the effect that my comments are down... working the problem. Thanks for your patience!

Honorary Lieutenant Tulbahadur Pun, VC, of the 6th Gurkha Rifles is, as his title suggests, one of only twelve living winners of the Victoria Cross. A summary of his "outstanding courage and superb gallantry" may be found at this Chindits Special Forces Burma 1942-1944 site. The reason for my tooth-grinding rage toward the management of the Gurkha Museum in Winchester may be found in a post to MilBlogs by John Donovan. I urgently suggest Flea-readers consider sending a note to the curator in the most courteous language you can muster once you have read about their reprehensible treatment of a dying hero.
To summarize: Tulbahadur Pun donated his medal to the Museum in the 1970s. Now 89 years of age and too unwell to travel he has asked the Museum if he might borrow his own medal so he can wear it one last time. The Museum has refused. There are no words.
Except these: Kaphar Hunnu Bhanda Mornu Ramro Chhaa.

I have been watching neo-noir films I missed the first time round. I liked Memento and Mulholland Drive just fine but they left me wanting to watch more of the real thing. My noir festival started with Dark Passage and it is a trip. For one thing, I had no idea Lauren Bacall was so beautiful. Just exquisite... but more than just exquisite. Her character is sharp and capable and one of the most desirable women in all of cinema. Also, great interior design sense which is bonus and extra.
Remember: The next time she tells you she is staying in to "finish some sketches" chances are she is harbouring an escaped convict thereby righting a wrong and fighting the good fight. You are going to have to be pretty sharp to compete with that.
Actually, there is courage enough to spare. And beauty worth defending. Now is the time at the Flea when we dance.
I have here several post-worthy items but have decided to jumble them together for reasons of brevity and economy. Also, to test whether I could get bullet points to work now I am operating under a newer iteration of Movable Type. No dice!
The administrative mess and confusion of the Indian government's block banning of websites - including whole blogging domains such as Google's Blogspot - in the name of national security continues despite/because of their quick retreat from the position. It would be easy to overlook the fact that this retreat did not extend to a number of specific sites still banned in India including and especially Rusty Shackleford & Co.'s Jawa Report. The charge: Blasphemy.
You and I may think the whole Jawa "Report" project became too hoitee toitee and upmarket since the change from the days of My Pet Jawa but this is no excuse for the Indian government to ban the boys. Here is a thought: The next time religious maniacs murder a couple hundred of your citizens why not consider banning their websites instead of going after the people who mock them? Though in fairness it is true Rusty is more likely to poke fun at you than saw your head off for internet snuff video fans. "National security" is a phrase with so many meanings.
On a sunnier note, long time advocate of murder and mayhem and de facto British civil servant, Omar Bakri Mohammed has reportedly decided to have a go at reversing his pre-emptive and unilateral self-deportation from Her Majesty's kingdom of infidels, iniquity and state-subsidized people-movers. Apparently his jihad preaching was more of a do as I say not as I do proposition when confronted with the oportunity first hand. The Sun's uncharitable response is worth noting in its entirety.
Hear, hear.
Finally, some news is most promising for sf fans if not so much for the remnants of the Thirteen Colonies. That news being the Battlestar Galactica Season 3 trailer. I for one am alarmed by our toaster overlords (hat tip to Porchboy).
GBI Update: I just remembered the spectral Kylie button Jeff sent me the first time I tried this little experiment. Gut ja!
What could they possibly be thinking Update: Harvard University's Olin Institute and West Point’s Combating Terrorism Center have made an al Qaeda "strategic study" available on-line. The Management of Savagery by Abu Bakr Naji (2004) emphasizes the importance of the Western media as part of the jihadi battlespace and a contempt for "effeminate" Western militaries (via Greyhawk).

Despite the MTV curse putting an end to Dave Navarro's three-year marriage to Carmen Electra and lingering legal issues from Rock Star Mark.1, Rock Star Supernova still provides two weekly scoops of entertainment goodness. Plus a half-scoop with the "reality" show from the Rock Star mansion.
This week Zayra Alvarez impressed with a Björkish woman on the verge/Princess Diana on methadrine REM cover. At first it was difficult to imagine what she was thinking with the creepy prom dress. Then her scanner powers kicked in and the threat of some grim Firestarter scenario playing itself out cowed the judges into submission.
Magni has totally ripped off my Dolce & Gabbana buggles look and my man Lukas Rossi kept on representing for Queen West with the Jagger moves. Not that I am a friend of his or whatever.
Ahh, yes. The street. I too know the harsh streets of Toronto: God created Queen West to train the faithful. One cannot go against the word of God. That sort of thing. All very good, etc. and so forth. But... Dilana Robichaux has an " "energy" " and a " "vibe" " that is freaking chilling. Her now trademark Lithium, Nina Hagen inspired Ring of Fire and Zombie have all been superb. Loved her most excellent corset this week too, btw.
Small sidebar: It was like pulling teeth finding these clips last summer. Mark Burnett Super Genius seems to have decided to let YouTube carry his bandwidth for him. Clever.
Best thing I have seen in ages Update: Kevin Smith also knows the street. If you have ever dealt with television and film producers this is the real world; fully worth the twenty minutes to get to the punchline (via INDC Journal).
That magic little sparkle Update: Sure, Jenny Galt got booted off the show this week and the Lilith Fair comparison was exactly right but her thoughts on what it means to be a rock star are 100% applicable to being a great blogger. Sure, you have to have talent. But more than that you have to be really confident. You have to know who you are. You have to bring it. You have to kill it every time.
Sure to set PDS sufferers twitching is news that Paris Hilton has decided to set up in the family business.
The boutique Sanderson experience is most probably not the most immediate inspiration, however. Paris is following not only in her grand-father's footsteps, but her sister's rather daintier footsteps are leading the way with soon to open Miami and Chicago hotel projects. Nicky Hilton's Miami-based "Nicky O" is set to feature a five-thousand dollar a night Roberto Cavalli designed penthouse suite and with feature its own signature gardenia scent. So that's a Posh Spice connection there too.
Lots of milk and sugar Update: Flea-readers who missed Paris live on-air with Ryan Seacrest can find her chat on-line at 102.7 KIIS FM. She likes Coffee Bean products, apparently.

Flea-ish plans on quite what to do with the inevitable fruits of my long-term lottery ticket investment scheme have been made much simpler with the discovery of this attractive bronze statuette of Lord Nelson mounted on oak taken from the original HMS Victory. Yet more impressive would be a pair of Nelson chairs with Victory oak front legs; just the ticket for the hypothetical study of the Flea.
On a related note, I have just discovered the BBC hosts video of the recent re-enactment of the engagement of the Blue Fleet and Red Fleet(s) at Trafalgar. Which is fine as far as it goes. But I will happier when Days of Trafalgar is mandatory viewing in history lessons everywhere. This is how it really went down.
I keep pointing to this specific stupidity as I believe it is emblematic of so much of the indigestion of reason typical of our present circumstances.
And let's have a little VE Day while we are at it, shall we.
Bridge for sale in Brooklyn Update: I am beginning to think there is enough Victory oak on the market to build a small flotilla. That said, I like the look of this canon ball, this commemorative coin and especially this cat's head dagger.
Now is the time at the Flea when we dance.
A Former Servant of Her Majesty forwards news of the latest report on the Battle of the Somme. Christopher Duffy's twist is to offer a German perspective on the calamity drawn from previously disregarded Bavarian military archives. His view is that the disaster accomplished more than is most often credited. I am struck by the argument for the strategic necessity of the battle - this point too is almost universally disregarded - and still more by learning of the prevailing contempt for the British held by the German military class.
"Debased by Celtic and Jewish influences," you say? The Kaiserist line has hardly changed in a hundred years whether from the mouths of those German would-be toffs or today's wide variety of Muslim puritans unimpressed by gay marriage or the Holocaust. That said, far be it for me to deny instances of British "sportsidiotsmus," alcoholism or degeneracy. But woe to to Her Majesty's enemies in misunderestimating the war-fighting potential of these traits. It was the Duke of Wellington who observed of his own army: "I don't know what they'll do to the enemy; but, by God, they frighten me."

Environmentally friendly eco-huts might seem a worthy goal for a rebuilt New Orleans were it not for the thought that building a city underwater - let alone rebuilding such a city - might not be terribly environmentally conscious in the first place. But spare some sympathy for Brad Pitt as an advocate of such nonsense. I expect he has to come up with this sort of thing to stay in Angelina Jolie's good graces; a worthy cause in itself. But Brad, at what cost?
Consistency being a bugaboo of small minds, Pitt is reportedly on the market for a Tuscan vineyard. While he certainly risks charges of hypocrisy I confess a more stinging disappointment in the man. It was several years ago that every social climbing whore in the Annex was looking for a second or third home in Tuscany. The trend was so pronounced the idea started turning up in olive-based margarine ads. You must aim higher than this, Mr. Pitt.
Not that Cascina Cucco at Serralunga d'Alba (nice castle, btw) or Poderi Aldo Conterno at Monforte d'Alba look like bad deals. Besides the wave might have crested and these properties have become so "out" they are "in" again.
La dolce vita Update: If Portofino is Kylie's favourite place then clearly Genoa is the answer.
I am in a Porsche on an autobahn; "Dance Floor" by GTK / SYNNYR on the stereo. Next to me on the seat is a flat black titanium briefcase with an automatic inside it. A dangerous blonde waits for me in Berlin...
It's the '80s, btw Update: Have you ever noticed how my life is so cool and Bill Ardolino's life suxxors? It does not seem fair, does it?
For decades the short wave radio spectrum has been home to enigmatic strings of letters and numbers. Tracking these transmissions is the Conet Project, a group which claims these are "the first and oldest of radio broadcasts" (via Hudnall).
It is nice to think there some mystery remains to the world; much better than crop circles.

Japan's "answer to Elvira", Miri Hanai enjoys "reading, karaoke, and watching vampire movies"; surely evidence of a beneficent Creator. Chris at Home, a Jawa American living in Mindanao, ponders the mystery of Miri Hanai's popularity in Japan. Commenters are limited to two guesses; hardly sufficient to grappling with this challenging puzzle. Indeed, while non-Japanese Flea-readers may never fathom the enigma that is photo gravure aidoru appreciation I hope this post goes some way to bridging the distance between and amongst cultures and just possibly boosting my Monday traffic figures. Interesting fact: 10% of Japanese men in their 40s are virgins (via Chris at the Jawa Report).
Kineda and YouTube have more Miri Hani coverage. Though coverage may be an inapt usage given the circumstances. I particularly enjoy the music in Miri Hanai 10 and the magic scarf in Miri Hanai 01. None of this is particularly safe for work unless, of course, you are employed in the pneumatic bikini modelling sector.
Wow, so they pay you to do this Update: If you are, for example, Agent C and are totally unsupervised at work but might want something to look at other than Japanese cheesecake I can fully recommend this "Dark Side of the Rainbow" Pink Floyd/Wizard of Oz YouTube spectacular (Google Video has the longer version for completists). Assuming you have a sound-card in that office computer.
With rockets landing across Israel's northern border and now as far south as Haifa the IDF has reportedly deployed three Patriot missile batteries to the city's northern suburbs and another outside Safed.* The move is presumably as much for psychological purposes as it is a response to the possibility of larger, longer range missiles; the system is ineffective against the random Katyusha fire that has been causing dislocation and death.
Northrop Grumman Directed Energy Systems battlefield lasers offer the prospect of taking on the rockets and artillery shells that are too small and too stupid to be countered by Patriot. Maybe.
Northrop's SkyGuard system is probably not quite ready for prime-time (though the video is worth a look). Another shorter term possibility is a modified version of Raytheon's Phalanx CIWS battle droid system; better known as R2-D2 to the United States Navy.**
*Though it is not clear from this report which iteration of the Patriot system is in play; the PAC-2 or the newer and now "fully operational" PAC-3.
**A similar system is available for deterring nerf-herders. Also, Womp Rats.
Sithsploitation Update: Darth Vader works out some issues.

The Flea's musical stylings are almost ready to be unleashed upon an unsuspecting world in the form of "First Date Music"; a name I hope Flea-readers will agree is congenial and sympathetic as first album titles go. I have had enormous good fortune with the MySpace promotion, thus far attracting interest for using a piece in a forthcoming film and with a Ghost of a flea internet radio debut set for London in two to three weeks. With any luck the future holds incidental music in Jaguar ads...
Here is the trick: Deciding quite what to do next vis-à-vis independent labels or the adventure that is releasing and distributing the thing myself. I post this with the thought that given this blog's diverse and wide-reaching readership there may be sound advice to be had. Or just possibly someone who knows someone at a label looking for some dark ambient content for their catalogue.
Rough and ready Update Thanking Dodgeblogium's Andrew Ian Dodge for his thoughts on the matter is a good excuse to point out Growing Old Disgracefully is now available in EP form through CD Baby. So, thanks Andrew!
Danwei TV expands its repertoire with Sexy Beijing featuring "love, lust, youth culture and street life in China's capital." Also, Su Fei's exceptional posterior.

Zayra Alvarez (pictured above) was lucky to survive a week in which she decided to offer a hamfisted Kinks cover not once but twice. Clearly the black tights go a long way with the judges. And who can blame them? That said, and despite a pending lawsuit, mediocre ratings and a purported "stink of desperation" hanging in the air, Rock Star Supernova features better talent and a better premise than its predecessor Rock Star INXS. Whereas the remaining INXSers had to contend with the shade of Michael Hutchence and their own back catalogue, Supernova's only baggage is their individual notoriety and the odd home-video or two. Otherwise, they have no phantom lead singer they need to clone and, having declared (if not entirely credibly) Supernova is not to be a metal act, no fixed expectation of what their lead singer must be.
Using the massively distributed and massively networked power of weblogging (or "blogging"), Dave Navarro talks back to the haytas.
Duran Duran is ably defended in the comments.
I think it's repeating on me Update: Having missed writing about the "obvious and grotesque" spectacle of Rock Star INXS, Tom Breihan considers the mystery of Jason Newsted's involvement in Rock Star Supernova. After all, he "does not need to be doing this sh*t."
Now is the time at the Flea when we dance.

Whatever the Mirvish spin machine says do not believe the hype and blame the critics. The recently announced closure of the "Lord of the Rings" musical was no surprise to the Flea partially because I had heard reliable rumours to the effect weeks in advance and partially because I have now seen it. And it is bad. Shockingly bad. And that is saying something considering I walked in expecting dancing Hobbits.*
But the thing to keep in mind is there is bad and then there is bad. Carrie: The Musical bad (via Modern Fabulosity).
*Not that this will stop me from seeing the Queen musical set to replace it.
Absolutely fabulous Update: Or we could just have an X-Men musical instead.
Now is the time at the Flea when we dance.
Dr. When presents a compendium of his sepia-tinted photogravures having previously been made public through the b3ta archive.
With the close of Dr. Who season two, and the long wait for the Dr. Who Christmas special, I expect many Flea-readers are left with yearning for more time-traveling fun. The next best thing is "Casanova", starring David Tennant, written by Russell T. Davis and scored, I suspect, by the same chap who does the Dr. Who incidental music. It is quite wonderful and offers some excellent bonus and extra pointers for passing in society.
An oh so familiar scenario. Small spoiler: If you have never conjugated Latin verbs you have never lived.
Stealing a march Update: The Flea's barefoot lifestyle is sure to impress Keira Knightley. KIIS-FM's Ryan Seacrest reports Knightley to have observed "barefoot goes with everything." Quite right too.

The combination of my continuing obsession with MySpace and my recent obsession with KIIS-FM in the morning means I get to listen to "SexyBack" over an over again (some nsfw language). Two thoughts: First, I like Timberlake's Flea-ish pose here; second, "SexyBack" shows what you can do when you really know how to use a sequencer. It is all about the emptiness between the noise. Which makes this single some sort of pop music bushido. The whole thing feels like it is about to fall over and then it swivels around and you realize your head is slowly sliding off your shoulders.
Five by five Update: On a mostly unrelated note... mostly... excepting for also being hellacool is news of the proposed Marine "Hot Eagle" Fast-Insertion Space Plane. This baby is sure to be widely referred to by its proper name: Pelican Dropship.
At last, supervillains worthy of being the archnemeses of the Flea! "Hamburg for Free" are based in Germany so I shall have to find the local counterparts of Santa Guevara, Spider Mum, Operaistorix and Multiflex. They are probably in the cheese aisle at Whole Foods...

Having spent a significant portion of her life flying around in pirate films, Keira Knightley has decided it is time to take some time off, go to the pub with friends and possibly find a Flea-ish bloke.
Modesty prevents me from making the obvious suggestion. Though in fairness I do not think the small ads of whatever newspaper that is are going to be much help to her. MySpace is where the "it" is "at" (nsfw).
Take Lily Allen, for example. She provides an excellent MySpace success story.* Now is the time at the Flea when we dance (possibly nsfw due to a descriptive word early on).
*Though I expect it helps if your father is Keith Allen if for no other reason than the Angel, Islington address.
While her spokesthing reportedly says it is completely untrue, friends of Madonna claim she is thinking of distancing herself from the Kabbalah Centre. It is difficult to square the claim with two appearances at the New York Kabbalah Centre over Independence Day weekend or Mr. Madonna announcing plans for a kabbalah-themed film.
At first blush Morals and Dogma of the Ancient and Accepted Scottish Rite of Freemasonry does not appear to have much to do with kabbalah. But then Swept Away did not have much to do with acting. Ba-dum dum.

The "Church" "of" "England" can do what it likes but if this latest absurdity means we lose the flag of England I am going to burn my passport and nail the remains to the front door of Canterbury Cathedral. I'm cereal. I have nothing against St Alban but then I expect substituting one cross for another will prove insufficiently craven for a Church bent on self-immolation.
This sort of nonsense is calculated to remind people why the flag was a Crusader cross in the first place.* Perhaps it is a cunning plan involving reverse psychology to convince us that someone, somewhere in the Church of England stands for something... Let us hope this is a combination of the usual Daily Mail inflammatory bloviation with the usual nasal whine echoing from the General Synod.
Speaking of crusades, Wayne Rooney (terrifying man-nipples pictured above) has reportedly said the only way he would like to bury the hatchet "is in Ronaldo's head" and threatened to "split him in two". Which only goes to show the unifying nature of international sporting events and the British bulldog spirit, etc. and so forth. In related news are some handy tips for what to do with an unwanted England flag (hat tip to the Sister of the Flea).
*Not to forget the flag of Ontario. Some fool somewhere must be disgruntled about it.
What'sa matta you, hey Update: My dreams of maximum irritation having been dashed on the rocks of Italian competence I can only observe - as will so many others - that the French certainly deserved to lose. On a related note, Will of A General Theory of Rubbish forwards the following thought sure to offer some comfort to long suffering England supporters.

Sesame Street kicks ass and takes names! Also, counts things! Now is the time at the Flea when we dance (via Dorkafork).
Just in time for the last war, the fifth generation F-35 Joint Strike Fighter is unveiled today in Fort Worth, Texas. It is a thing of beauty.
P-38 Update: With a nod to history, the F-35 Joint Strike Fighter has now been officially christened the Lightning II.

Ten long months of suffering are now assuaged with the premiere of Rock Star Supernova. My worries that Mark Burnett Super Genius might not be able to carry on the franchise after J.D. Fortune definitively resolved its founding premise turned out to be unfounded. In fact, Tommy Lee is a much more personable and engaging character than the sometimes sourpuss INXS. And the Brooke Burke/Dave Navarro duo are much more important to the format than I had given them credit. This time out the aim is not to replace a lead singer for a classic act but to complete the line up with a singer for an all new act. Or rather, as all new as a band can be featuring Mötley Crüe's Tommy Lee, Metallica's Jason Newsted and Guns 'N Roses' Gilby Clarke.
The new cast of characters is promising. Former Cleavage front-man Lukas Rossi means Toronto's Queen West black clothes scene will once again be represented to the world. He shall go far. Despite my (perfectly reasonable) tendency to side with impish bald guys Á Móti Sól lead singer, Magni Asgeirsson suffered from a rock and/or roll Euro-twitch and was unconvincing. If this was Dark Wave Supernova he would have probably kicked ass. As it is, I expect he shall be returning to Reykjavik presently. Dilana Robichaux had a scary intensity. Check her out at the Prime Time Steak House if you are local to Houston (no cover!). Zayra Alvarez is this year's Daphna Dove; an obvious hit with the judges but for reasons that do not have much to do with the show.
Early contenders for the top spot: Juke Kartel's Toby Rand from Melbourne. Great voice and probably a good fit for Supernova's over-the-top personalities. And finally, Flea-fav Storm Large (pictured above). She has pretty much everything. Including her real name, apparently. Hmm.
This formerly straight-laced singer's new track is stuck in my head thanks to my 102.7 KIIS-FM Los Angeles morning obsession.* Nelly Furtado is Portugese**-Canadian, btw. Now is the time at the Flea when we dance.
*Be the first to watch the new video for "Stars Are Blind" by Paris Hilton on KIIS-FM!
**Now who's crying, bitch!
That dead horse looks like it could use a sound flogging Update: On the sweetness of Portugese defeat:
O' Signore chiude na e ne rap' un' altra porta Update: In considering the possibility of an Italy/Portugal final I wondered how the referee could decide who to cheat for. Rue sent me the following helpful guideline. It is deuced simple once it has been explained: "The one he bet on to win, naturally!"
On a related note, I have asked whether it is possible to cheer for Alizée without cheering for France. Bien sur! This seemingly tricky position is justified as a nod to Corsican independence; a cause I have long cherished.

Elton John may think the England side were a disgrace and German hoteliers may be tired of English footballer wives and girlfriends but this means nothing to the iron will or manifest WAG destiny of Victoria Beckham.
Now Victoria underlines this supremacy by offering her "buggles" World Cup sunglasses for sale as part of a five-piece, limited-edition collection exclusive to Harrods. Such is only to confirm me in my plan to purchase a similar pair for myself. Buggles = Flea-ish.
Now is the time at the Flea when we dance (the same again with better sound at MySpace).
The unmanned Switchblade is a bomber drone meant to be able to loiter for hours at a time and reconfigure for supersonic attack. It is an awkward looking arrangement but then I expect they said the same about the first "tanks." And look what that lead to: Daleks.
A General Theory of Rubbish hosts a handy round-up of post-England/Portugal comment. Elsewhere on the internets, K-Punk considers the "libidinal disorder" afflicting the England side; a Transcendental Defeatist belief structure.
Vive la France! Allez les Bleus!
Flea-readers unaccountably unfamiliar with the rebooted mythology of Battlestar Galactica will not feel the immediate thrill the word "Caprica" sends through me. Along with the many worlds of The X-Files, Andromeda and Stargate SG-1, Caprica may resemble Simon Fraser University in Vancouver but I am certain there is plenty more temperate rainforest to be discovered. And possibly, just possibly a world where "prequel" and "crap" do not rhyme... Ron Moore: Thank you.
(hat tip to A Former Servant of Her Majesty)
After one hundred years of war Japan and Montenegro are to declare a truce at last. Surely a blessing for children of Montenegran-Japanese mixed marriages.
On a related note, Yomirui TV publishes the results of a national survey of Japanese men viz. their dream girlfriends. Kineda thoughtfully provides the top fifteen with photos. I expect a Montenegran survey would be equally uplifting.

Spoiler warning. See the film before reading.
Superman Returns is out and, though many have yet to see the movie, not everyone is happy about it on the right hand side of the blogosphere. Aside from no-brow complaints this is a "metrosexual" Superman one line has the usual suspects up in arms. Hollywood Reporter notes a change from "truth, justice and the American Way" to "truth, justice and all that stuff." In context it is a small joke, another aside for the unrelenting and unavoidable self-referencing of a story that has been told and retold since World War II. Especially so for a film that is an extraordinary, respectful homage to the Christopher Reeve Superman many of us grew up with; including director Bryan Singer.
Certainly much of the Superman mythos from his unconvincing disguise to his Captain Underpants suit seems hokey or, more charitably, the product of a (supposedly) more innocent time. Much as the Bible benefits from new translation as colloquial English changes, some updating of the Superman story is necessary for its central truths to be communicated. Even so, it is difficult not to read the elision of "the American Way" as a disavowal. Screenplay writer Dan Harris makes weasel noises about the decision:
An "international superhero" might have lived up to a phantasy internationalism*, and might even have made for an interesting movie, but Harris' claim is in no way supported by a film whose every character and every setting is American.** Despite his Canadian creator, Superman is not an "international superhero" but a hero in the hands of film-makers who risk sounding embarassed by their own myths. It is hard to deny truth, justice and "the American Way" sounds hokey but for a story whose central character is an alien prancing around in his underwear such may be to protest too much.
It seems to me the more egregious editorializing moment comes when a certifiably crazy Lex Luthor says "bring it on"; Hollywood newspeak for blank criticism of the current President. Not that this necessarily means the film's right-wing critics are right to be annoyed. Even with a villainous invocation of "bring it on," I suspect the anti-Bush dig is more formalistic than pointed and, more importantly, only written into the script as cover for Bryan Singer's attempt to do something unfashionable in contemporary American cinema. He has created a film grounded in earnest emotion instead of ignorant knowingess. Despite these two nervous ticks in the screenplay, Singer has broken a fundamental intelligentsia (and would be intelligentsia) taboo by deciding to take a genre film seriously.
The James Bond franchise made a pass at answering a pop-culture problem in the opening credits of Die Another Day: How to represent existential evil in a world where Bond villains had descended into pantomime. After September 11, 2001 it was said (in error) that irony was dead. It turned out it was our capacity for metaphor - not irony - which had failed us. Cartoon bad guys were totally inadequate to making sense of all the falling bodies. In Die Another Day we discover Bond did not stop the jihadis because he was otherwise occupied by scorpion stings in a North Korean torture room. Bond's absence was a sign the world had moved on and a signal that, along with Bond, our security services had been too preoccupied by the last war and with the wrong opponents to notice the new ones. Some blame the Madonna curse for the film's failure (and quite right too). But it is more fair to say the film failed its own premise. Instead of addressing the problem posed in the opening credits, the plot dissolved into the usual post-Soviet, post-Cold War mush as the enemy turned out not to be al Qaeda - not even the scorpion stings of North Korean madness - but a renegade North Korean whose irresponsible actions jeopardized an entirely hallucinatory peace process. In the real world, North Korean fascists fire missiles over Japan and threaten their neighbours with nuclear genocide even as they impoverish and enslave North Korea's starving people. But in the brave new world of James Bond it is not the North Korean general but his wayward son who is the bad guy.
The same psychotic transformation neutered the jihadis of Tom Clancy's "The Sum of All Fears" as the film adaptation morphed them into neo-Nazis; some of the only acceptable villains left now that Hollywood can no longer fall back on marble-mouthed English accents for its bad guys. In the real world, there is an international death cult using nail bombs to kill Jewish commuters, raping Russian school-children en masse, slicing off noses and tongues in Indian Kashmir, detonating up to six hundred bombs simultaneously in Bangladesh (with nary a word in the Western media let alone a single street protest by Western "progressives"), trying to restart a slow-motion genocide in East Timor as the same continues unimpeded in Darfur and, not incidentally, murdering 3000 people at a go somewhere ever so slightly downtown from the Daily Planet building. And yet somehow to point to any of this agit prop by a tiny minority of activists, let alone the crater in lower Manhattan, is in poor taste.***
We find ourselves in a world where the enemy must never be named; only excused. Where the bombers' targets are asking for it and it is "racist" to notice, let alone complain, about the fact. We have made for ourselves a world where hundreds of thousands of Americans have fought, and several thousands died, defending themselves in a conflict with the latest uptick in a centuries long holy war but to Hollywood the real enemy remains thinly coded "Jews" as phantom conspirators and venal businessmen. I suspect the only possible explanation for this situation is psychological. How else to make sense of a context where every real conspiracy our security services unearth is instantly written off as a sign of the ineptitude of the enemy and every conspiracy that ends in bloodshed is represented as a sign of the ineptitude of our security services. How else to explain why it should be impossible to give the jihadis simple credit for their own clearly stated purposes; not to mention their moderate success at generalized rapine and mayhem.
This is not a problem of fantasy but of phantasy. 1940s comic book readers could credit Superman in a fist fight with Hitler but this (admittedly unedifying) spectacle neither detracted from the reality of war or the suspension of reality necessary for Superman's world to make sense. The Nazis were even presented as having "heroes" of their own, most notably Red Skull, whose supervillainy accounted for some of Nazi Germany's continued existence in the face of superpowered Americans. To even raise the possibility of DC or Marvel creating a latter day jihadi Red Skull is laughable. Imagine the cartoon jihad that indigestible morsel of truth might provoke let alone a newspaper or book seller brave enough to carry the comic. More laughable yet, imagine a Superman Returns where Superman, and not Lex Luthor, had said "bring it on."
It should go without saying that America's current enemies would slaughter Bryan Singer - gay, Jewish and American - at their first opportunity (Superman may not be gay but the casting decisions were). It seems that rudimentary self-interest fails where self-respect and veneration of tradition have long fallen by the wayside.
After all this complaint, what is to be salvaged from Superman Returns? Nothing, except that it is a masterpiece.****
Michelle Malkin dislikes the film. Or rather, she dislikes the first half of it that she saw. I suspect her reaction is as knee-jerk and formalistic as the "PC" Hollywood conventions she despises. Tell a right-wing blogger something is "metrosexual" - that is code for gay in case anyone is unclear on the point - and the rest is fair game. I fail to see anything more or less Beckhamish about the Brandon Routh portrayal than the Supermen who have gone before him. Even the new cape is toned down; less flamboyant, as it were. This is a film conservative Christians should love but have instead decided to castigate for a Lois Lane who, despite her long-term committed relationship, is written off as a "single mother." So much more satisfying to throw stones than to pay much attention to what Christ had to say on the subject.
We are presented once again with the grim and stupid logic that valorizes a religious ceremony - any religious ceremony - over everything else including and especially commitments grounded in personal conviction rather than institutional dictat. No small government for those conservatives who insist the state, and not their Saviour, guarantee their virtue. To these people, an arranged marriage into a faith they despise or about which they know little or nothing (pick one: Islam, Hinduism, etc.) renders respectible a relationship no matter what brainwashing, coercion or UFO logic is meant to support it. More baffling to me still is that this crazed conclusion should seem self-evident to the fundamentalists despite a fifty-percent divorce rate. Time to stitch a scarlet letter for Lois Lane; the character these dimwits have failed to notice is the Virgin Mary of the piece.
Christianists and "conservatives" notwithstanding, this new Superman could have been written by C.S. Lewis*****; a latter day Gospel of Krypton for a humanity lacking "the light to show the way."
Superman Returns is the most blatant, unashamed and moving Christian addition to popular culture in recent memory. Yet the Malkin literalists, even those who bothered to sit through the whole film, have lost so much of their capacity for metaphor that their God-given reason is lost to them and along with it the mythological truth which should be their foundation. These same people fail to understand metaphor and literary convention in the Scriptures themselves so none of this reaction should surprise me... and yet still it does. After all, if Jesus had "merely" performed the acts ascribed to him his superpowers would be poor in comparison to those demonstrated in the acts of Galactus or Eternity, let alone the Beyonder or Thanatos with the Infinity Gauntlet. More to the (DC) point, his superpowers are limited in comparison to Superman (though Jesus would most probably have been unharmed in the presence of kryptonite).
It is a woods for the trees problem; it is not existence but essence which underpins a mythological truth. The truth of Jesus' enduring importance is not his biography but his message. Superman Returns is a testament addressed to a question all Americans must face. So too the rest of the world even if much of the rest of the world has yet to notice:
If Superman exists, why did he not act to prevent the attacks of September 11, 2001?
It seems to me the film does a better job of addressing the question than I can. For all its moments of anti-Bush posturing and for all the ritualized anti-metrosexual complaint of the blogosphere, Bryan Singer's Superman takes us to the heart of the message of grace and the challenge of salvation. In fact, if Superman did not exist I think a post-9/11 America would have had to invent him. Superman's Jewish creators could hardly have foreseen the Christology that would spring up around him. Though as this might equally be said for Jesus himself Superman finds himself in good company.
*The kind of internationalism where only France and Germany have the power to render a decision multilateral and where internationalism includes selling Führerbunkers and chemical weapons precursors to dictatorships provided they agree to only use them against local minorities, Jews or Americans.
**Though the Fortress of Solitude is located in Canada, obviously.
***By contrast, saying "George Bush is stupid!," whispering gross 9/11 conspiracy and making Holocaust jokes is the height of wit in the Annex. Not incidentally, so too is using the word "gay" as an insult.
****I have changed my mind. If Bryan Singer wants to remake Logan's Run he should go right ahead.
*****But for the point that everyone and everything in it is clearly allegorical, a rhetorical convention Lewis at least claimed to avoid.
With great power comes great responsibility Update: Douglas Kern considers Superman's burden and America as a superpower (via Instapundit).

Say what you like about Cristiano Ronaldo.* Say, for example, that the Dutch did not put the boot to him hard enough. Say he is lucky to have been able to rely on Argentina as a phantom second team against England. But the man is brave; you have to give him that. After all, he puts on that performance and yet he is on his way back to Manchester.
Tsh! Tsh!
*Interesting fact: You will never guess which American President Ronaldo is named after.
Decline and fall Update: The Guardian's Rob Smyth considers Ronaldo:
The remainder of his analysis strays from the above points and is hardly worth reading.
Don't make me do it Update: Now England is out, I have decided t