Either television and film composer John Williams or regular project partner, director Steven Spielberg has a special place in their heart for late nineteenth century classical composer Antonín Dvorák (1841 — 1904).

As I was laying down to go to sleep, I was listening to local NPR affiliate, WMFE 90.7 FM, noted for their concentration and dedication to not only classical, but also international, new age and other non-mainstream forms of music. The announcer stated they were going to play the rather famous "New World" symphonies by Dvorák and so it began with Symphony Number 7 in D minor, Op. 70. As it played on, I was stirred from my impending sleep by it sounding familiar to me. Not because I own copies of Dvorák's best known pieces, but because it sounded similar to something it should not have: a mainstream recording.

I picked it out immediately. The theme, rhythm and possibly even the notes themselves were remarkably similar to portions of the John Williams soundtrack to film Catch Me If You Can. A second portion of Symphony Number 7 (or perhaps 8, because I was not entirely sure where one stopped and the other began) sounded like one of the other themes in Catch Me If You Can.

I am not placing blame or making accusations as far as a lack of originality on behalf of Williams, but the similarity was enough to draw my attention to it whilst attempting to sleep. What really got me on this tangent was when during a movement of Symphony Number 9 I heard what could only be a precursor to the Jaws theme.

Of course, Williams scored the Jaws film soundtrack as well. And lest I forget the fact that Spielberg directed both films. If I am crazy and am simply drawing patterns where none intentionally exists, so be it; there are only so many notes, patterns and ways to perform music. But, if I am correct in my conclusion that there was some inspiration here, I cannot think of a classical composer I would rather see receive a modern-day nod.

After just becoming aware of his existence through a friend of Mount Sutro, I thought it would be nice to share the artwork of New York native, Spencer Tunick.

If you check out his site, which maintains a collection of all his photography, you will soon see a template to his work: public nudity. However, it is the manner in which each photograph is taken, with careful consideration given to all of the surroundings in question, that make these photographs really amazing to me.

Further, the lengths Tunick has gone through in order to make his art, which he proclaims is "not good art, not bad art; just art," are extraordinary. His "about" page fully details his trials and tribulations which included several arrests, his suing the City of New York and his eventual win on the basis of his First Amendment Constitutional rights in the Supreme Court of the United States.

A particular news article discusses how the residents of the City of Montreal, who did not file a protest against the outdoor photo session, flocked in great number to participate in what many called an energizing and freeing experience.

I am not suggesting I am going to be the first in line to participate in this art should the opportunity present itself, but I am glad to see nudity becoming less and less of a faux pas in modern society, especially for the sake of irrefutably non-indecent acts.

Inspired from the non-bomb scare, I decided that when I never finally get a little musical group together (even if for one fucking evening), I would like to be called "The Industrial Magnets."

I got a fur up my ass tonight and made the following, basically a CD album cover for the non-existent band. Let me know what you think (keeping mindful it is a scaled-down version of the original 700k Photoshop file).

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