The Modern Yawn

You know I love you, babies.

2008-03-19T12:28:00.012-04:00

So, I'm new to blogging, are you supposed to do this often? Or is a month too $hort between entries? What's the protocol here?
*Sorry about the delay, I've been busy getting my Haitian doctoral degree. It's one of my many off-shore accolades that comes with a certificate suitable for framing. When someone says off-shore, do they mean in another country or do they mean some sort of oil rig that's in international waters protected by swarthy bad guys with spray-painted camouflage motor boats and mustaches? I hope it's the one with mustaches. I've also been getting my master's degree, which will undoubtedly contribute to my mastery of concerns, both domestic and abroad and even in international waters. I've also started collecting historical heirlooms from the Franklin Mint, including but not limited to: Cutty Sark: The Golden Age of Sail Nautical Watch. Don't ask me! It's my investment in America. My old man used have a stash of Cutty Sark in the game cabinet (there was also a pistol, a blindfold, an autographed copy of the Deer Hunter, a Tripoli mat, Monopoly, Aggravation, and a leather-bound copy of the Magna Carta) and I remember thinking it was Cutty SHARK, with an H, because there was a ship on the label. I was a fucking idiot when I was 30. I mean why would Shark be in all caps with an italianized H?
Anyway, here we are and I just realized that this blang is sort of like the equivalent of one of those spoof/send-up movies (Date Movie, Epic Movie) except less sincere. I guess that m
akes me the Leslie Nielsen of the internet (aside from the actual Leslie Nielsen of the internet). So this is just a lite re-tap of what's been touching me lately.
1. Catholic priests. Ah-ha-ha! Topical!
2. A while back my friend Aliccia and I decided to start a letter writing campaign to get us gigs with some famous rock bands. Here's a sample letter of mine to Lou Reed:

Dear Lou Reed,

I am writing this letter to you in hopes of joining your band. I understand that you may have a vacancy for an additional guitarist for your upcoming tour. I have been playing guitar for over two years now. I have mastered most of the barre chords, but can't really play solos so hot. I own a Mexican Fender Stratocaster that I got at a Guitar Center (not as cool as that wild thing you play without a headstock!) I have all the necessary cords and straps and a pretty loud amplifier. I've been in a few bands, you would probably have heard of Perspective or Time Tunnel if you heard of any of my bands. I have studied most of your music, however, I am not as well familiar with your work in the Velvet Underground band. To be honest, and I think honesty is important if we're going to jam together, the Velvet Underground was kinda boring and the drumming sucked (my friend Aliccia could help you out with drums, she's trying out for Can right now).

I first learned of your solo music from hearing Take A Walk On The Wild Side on one of the local rock radio stations a few years back. The disc jockey played Jackson Browne before you which made me think you might know him. Do you? No Nukes. Right? Anywa

y, it really had an impact on

me. I couldn't believe the program director of that station allowed you to say "head" (as in even when she was giving head...)! I mean they always beep out the word SHIT in that live Bob Seger song! So anyway, I bought Transformer because the cover really caught my eye (plus, it was part of the Value Series). I have to say, the back cover is a little gay, but it was the 1970's, so I guess everyone looked gay but didn't realize it. At least you don't have a story about getting your stomach pumped because you had three quarts of semen in it like Rod

Stewart did. Anyway, I just wanted to say I love your solo work and although you weren't my first choice, we should get together so you can "try me out" or whatever for your band. Or if you want to audition me over the phone, send me your phone number, I can call you or whatever.

Sincerely, Greg ********

Aliccia's Letter to Queen:

Queen address

February 23, 2006

Dear Brian May and members of Queen,

I was recently reading the Wikipedia entry on Queen and was pleased and relieved to see Brian May’s recent quote regarding the status of Paul Rodgers’ inclusion in the group. As to the question of whether Paul Rodgers is in the band, Mr. May cleared up the matter to say that Paul Rodgers would be “featured with” Queen, not replacing the late Freddie Mercury.

Understandably Mr. May and Queen have reservations in their attempted whole-hearted embrace of Paul Rodgers, not the least of which are his limitations as an instrumentalist and his promiscuous nature and penchant for tribute performance. Notably, his misguided decision to perform John Lennon’s Imagine in 2005 likely raised some confusion in the press and caused fans to question if John Lennon and Freddie Mercury were the same person. To state it bluntly, none other than he should have known better. That being said, with this letter I would like to submit my own application to join Queen. To not per say replace Freddie, but to take on his musical role and lead the band into the future. Let me start by pointing out that I have vast experience singing with a band, and I am proficient on keyboards, piano, synthesizers and rhythm guitar. My name and my enthusiasm for Queen may be already known to you from an interview with Erica Gallagher in Venus magazine in 2003 in which I am quoted as to have said that Freddie Mercury is my favorite rock star. Lest you doubt my enthusiasm for the group as a whole, although not explicitly stated by me, the further intended implication of this quote is to say that Queen is my favorite rock band.

My personal relationship with Queen’s music and what I like to call “Queen attitude” go back much earlier than this 2003 interview. I took great pleasure in performing We Are the Champions and Another One Bites The Dust at performances and events dating back to 1987. Interestingly, in the multi-instrumentalist tradition of all the original Queen members, I play the bass line to these songs on the trombone. Today I still enjoy playing and singing Queen songs whenever I get the chance. This brings me to my most interesting and compelling qualification for your consideration, which is my uncanny resemblance to Freddie Mercury. Interestingly a friend of mine even suggested that it might be in my destiny to be a member of Queen.

Not to say that I knew Freddie, but he was a performer clearly in touch with his anima. The band that he was such an integral part of would be disserving itself to not have either a gay or female member. Undoubtedly issues are raised with consideration of a female Queen member. Let me lay those to rest. In all likelihood the number one issue that comes to mind is the co-status of gender and bottom. I am not a fat bottomed girl and yet I still find no offense in the track Fat Bottom Girls and in that spirit will enjoy performing it.

I appreciate your consideration of my membership. Note that I have a very flexible schedule. I can start immediately and am available to jam basically any night of the week. For your convenience I have enclosed a recent picture of myself.

Best Regards,

Aliccia Berg

Presently of the band Slumber Party

That's it. two thingys in a month. I'll make sure the door doesn't hit me in the ass whence I walk out.

5000, Valkyries

Top 10 Things Right Now

2008-03-03T19:39:00.016-05:00

1. Spelt. No, not the fake indie band from that handbag mixed tape (pause mix) from 1994. You know, the fake indie band that had that fake song between The La's and Oasis, because who could have predicted that Oasis would turn out to be such useless douchebags, after all, even? The grain...or, it's a grain, right? It's sort of like a mix between rice and barley, with some nuttiness to it. It might just solve your 'I don't know what to have for dinner tonight, rice or barley or nuts?' problem. I'll just skip the nuts for dinner joke, I'm too cosmopolitan for that balderdash, buttholes.

2. The Dog Show. It's sort of like a dog and pony show, but no pony. Dog people are weird. Not dog owners, Dog people. They're like werewolves but instead of fucking around with the Creature from the Black Lagoon, they eat peoples trash and work security at Target. Oddly enough, they shop at K-Mart for Tom McCann shoes, misty taupe L'eggs control-top pantyhose and Jacqueline Smith separates. But about the show, if you even just kinda like dogs, it's worthwhile. Even if your experience with dogs is primarily through watching My Dog Skip or the criminally overlooked Beethoven series-- big ups to Grodin--or jamming the Baha Men's Y2K hit, Who Let the Dogs Out? or even just calling your feet your "dogs," you'll

love the dog show. You can see all types of dogs- from ones that are famous- Cujos, Totos, Lassies, Man's Best Friendses, Hooches, Spuds McKenzies, Alex from Stroh's, those fucked up ones from Men in Black, Cliffords and TacoBells- to ones that just think they're famous! (Go back and read that sentence again like Steven Kojocaru would) Just by listing famous dogs, you realize that there is a lot of room for new dog stars- I can't figure out why there hasn't been a dog-buddy pic that features a Cardigan Welsh Corgi, Komondor, Bouvier des Flandres, or Affenpinscher yet. It's like, what the F, Bruckheimer? Did you ever see that movie, Best in Show? Well, if you haven't, it's a Christopher Guest movie that was made back when he was funny. It's just like that except that instead of Parker Posey, you get some weird mid-state woman who heats with propane and lets her kids pretend the above-ground septic tank is a bio-fuel 4-wheeler prototype.

3. Lost- never in my whole TV life did I expect to like something that makes as little sense and is as hopelessly hopeless(no matter what plot twists and secrets are divulged, it's not supposed to end for two and a half more seasons--aprox. 58 episodes) as this made-for-TV clusterfuck. Now, I'm not as bad as some people who dabble in nerdsmanship and jam to Lost podcasts on the elliptical at the YMCA, but I'm totally into TV that insults my multiple intelligences, beguiles my mind grape, grudge fucks me, and makes me feel stupid for loving Matthew Fox......again.

4. Actress Bai Ling stealing batteries and Star magazines from the airport. I love when actresses shoplift. I think she was Asian. Free Winona!

5. Robert Downey Jr. as Iron Man. And the fact that they actually secured the rights to Iron Man by actual Black Sabbath and not some contrafracting karaoke version done by like I don't know, someone featuring fucking Chad Kroger. To think that RDJr. went from a gapped-tooth asshole who dumped slushie all over Gary and Wyatt at the mall to playing a 3rd-line superhero....well, everything is just coming into focus these days for us, innit?

6. J.K. livin'. Matthew MacConaughey is going global with his brand of hesher/casual beachwear line. We'll assume that the collection will be shirtless, brothers and mamas. I look forward to wearing his bandanas, flip flops, and water wings. BTW the JK part is "just keep" in JK livin'. Fool's gold, I tell ya!

7. Deathstorm 2008. For those of you thought snow was extincting due to Al Gore movies, Mother Nature's all, "suck on it, Midwest!" The Great Lakes will be one foot higher this

Summer because of all this accumulation, which is gonna probably make a couple people get bellysmacked from diving and not accounting for the extra foot before splashdown. Ouch!

8.Tax Rebate Cheques. I don't know why I spelt it all Canadian. So in May, I plan on stimulating the shit out of the economy by buying $600 worth of Crystal Meth, thereby kicking off IRS Summer 2008! I'm just kidding, please don't audit me.

9. They found Moby Dick. While hanging out (skeet shooting found pirate china) near the Aleutian islands, some researchers saw a white killer whale. One of the researchers, Jeff, quickly threw his hacky sack down and rummaged through his hair to find the camera and snap one off.

The mythical creature then jumped out of the water, did a jazz routine, and said,"you think I'm special, you should see the giant squid or the 6-tentacled octopus, or the fresh water stingray.....hi-yo!"

10. Blogs. Spirit award goes to you. I don't know how you people do it. I can't read anyone's blog all the way through. Diablo Cody's has tits even and I gave up after one paragraph of self-serving hack. They bore the shit out of me. Then again, I'm not a strong reader.

Retractions

2008-02-29T12:50:00.003-05:00

I earlier reported that Miley Ray Cyrus was like 13 and already looked like she got hit in the face with a cartoon skillet. Miley Ray Cyrus is 15 and looks like she got hit by a cartoon frying pan. I am also reporting a change of heart after seeing the M-dog chug Heinz 57 Ketchup on Leno. If she continues this type of behavior, she may find herself in my good graces. One suggestion: instead of Ketchup, next time try something even more teeny-boppery, like Heinz 58 Kerosene.

Oscar Aftermayhem: Losers, Boozers, and Who Are You Wearing?

2008-02-26T10:47:00.018-05:00

I hate to say I told you so, but I did, didn't I...tell you so? Bastard in a basket! Save for the pesky 'best supporting actress', I was fairly accurate when it came to predicting Oscar gold and the associated pomp and ballyhoo that comes with that brand of accolade. Now, I'm not suggesting that my picks were controversial or even daring, but I did ride the "dark horse of Cotillard Stables" into Best Actressdom Hills (a gated community, with 3-bedrooms starting in the low 1.3's). I also brazenly predicted that John Travolta would steal the show (he often does) and be the #1 goldbricker who actually applies Ronco Spray-On Hair ('as seen on TV', again!) to the scalp before a nationally televised event...did I stutter? No, a stammer is quite different from a stutter. As predictable as the night was, it was altogether unpredictable when it came to the glitzy razamatazz Hollywood is famous for (imagine Humphrey Bogart, James Dean, Marilyn Monroe and a duffing soda jerk at the same sad diner!) First off, here's my disses:

Low-lifes:

Diablo Cody winning best original screenplay. After cringing through the Sunny Delight portion of this screenplay, we run into the term "homeskillet," delivered, no doubt, by Dwight from The Office. We are later dry-jammed by the proposition that a sixteen-year-old girl is going to have the Stooges, the Runaways, and Patti Smith tied for her 'favorite band'...only to then be preposterously lead to believe that the same sixteen-year old is going to have an opinion about Dario Argento movies. Knock it off, Cody. Save that projecting shit for your Seacrest interview. BTW, nice Flintstones dress, adult entertainer.

Best Adapted Screenplay going to Joel and Ethan Coen. I make love to No Country, however, it was total bullshark that There Will Be Blood didn't snag this one. It should have been 'in the pocket' for the milkshake dialogue alone. The only reason I can think of for the dis is that Daniel Day-Lewis Mad-libbed a bunch of shit instead of sticking to the screenplay. Daniel Plainview : That was one __Adjective__ helluva show. Goddamn!

Jon Stewart's John Travolta's airplane joke. I can't believe that Bret Michaels has trademarked the prase "hi-yo!" Stewart should have totally risked litigation and used a "hi-yo" after that church fart. Get thee to a Bret's Brew ASAP, Big Jon.

Jon Stewart's iPhone joke. Really? Did you really? Did you just use an iPhone as a "new media" joke prop? Your awesome card is on probation.

Miley Ray Cyrus' whole thing. First off, nice face, bitch. You're like 13 and you already look like you got hit in the face with a cartoon skillet. Second of-ly, nice haircut. Where'd you get it? Subway? Is Subway giving haircuts now? Give me a 6" Cold Cut Trio on Wheat, toasted. Everything except hot peppers. A little bit of mayonnaise. I said a little bit, Tranny! Gaaaah. Baked Lays.

And a mohawk.

The Academy for skimping on the in memoriam segment. No Renfro? No Anna Nicole? No Charles Nelson Reilly? No Roy Scheider? No Richard Dreyfuss? No Rob Schneider ? No David Blaine? No cast of Friends? No Michael Richards? No justice, no peace, motherfuckers!

Highlifes

The banana peel they put by the podium where types of famous peeps almost bit it.

Oscar's salute to binoculars and periscopes

Gaydolf Titler

Rage Against the Machine's PMRC protest

No Sean Penn lectures about how Jude Law is one of the 'finest actors of his generation'

No Robin Williams

THE O-FACE

2008-02-20T23:49:00.020-05:00

I'm feelin' the A-cads this year. I'm about to drink your milkshake. Drink it up! Other years concerned themselves with Sean Penn and what movie Sean Penn was either in or not in or how Sean Penn is the finest Phillip Seymore Hoffman of his generation or what have you, while other members of the Academy (cut to Nicholson's reaction) and such were concerned with voting in actors whom: a.) attempted retarded (cut to Jamie Foxx noticing himself being noticed) or b.) have successfully fulfilled requisite retardation for shoe-in nommies (cut to Juliette Lewis' place card ) Mind you, this is not to make light of retardation, but to further illustrate said nominee's masterful control of his or her "instrument" and/or "craft", etc. to portray special needs homies. Traditionally, executive bonuses are doled for either ethnic or Scientological actrons participating in features concerning romance, heartwarming comedy and retardation-- or the gold standard, right honorable Giovanni Ribisi Memorial Cash Settlement for the benefit of Kirstie Alley's dinner check. Fried! That was sooo Jeffrey Lyons of me. Anyway, this year is special insofar as the nominees' roles are a.) not drinking from the already dessicant well of retardtivity, b.) not making crystal meth addiction the new retarded, c.) not retarded crystal meth addicts (this gets into the murky and often frowned-upon Harmony Korine/ Crispin Glover territory) So here's my pricks for this year's movie prizes:

Best Actor (in a leading role)Daniel Day-Lewis, There Will Be-Blood.

Daniel Day-Lewis is all, "my left foot? It's broke.

Commence to swingin' from my left nut, as if you were an 28-foot oil derrick." What? Like he wasn't thinking that? This ain't the Age of Innocence, y'all. He's got a competition in him. Besides, who's gonna step in the ring?

Viggo? Cloon-Tang clan? yeah, okay.

Best Lady Actor (leading role)-
Marion Cotillard, La Vie en Rose. Julie Christie this, Julie

Christie that. Julie Christie reminds me of Agatha Christie which reminds me of Nancy Drew which in turn reminds me of Miss Manners, Judith Martin, who reminds me that I ought respond to a dinner party invitation in kind, using the degree

of formality in which the invitation was conveyed. Don't get me started on Heloise! Hey Christie, why don't you go back to your highly successful auction house and bid on yourself. You think you're on Golden Pond, bitch? Why don't you go suck face and cruise chicks at the BAFTA awards instead? Cotillard is so in-your-face on this one, it hurts. I usually wouldn't pick a lady from a foreign film as best actor with lady parts, but I'm going with Jackie on this one and riding the dark horse of Cotillard stables.

Best Supporting Actor -Javier Bardem-

No Country For Old Men. No Competition For Bar Dem. Dude is sickening in this. Ever wish that actors were sometimes not

actors and instead were just weird hitmen with gnarly haircuts and black polyester Levi's who they just found in Barstow and put in a movie? I was kinda bummed out that Jav was actually a pedigreed man with an acting career. Or, conversely, a pedigreed actor with a man career. Either way, I'm lucky because my friend Johnny has long hair and wears black polyester Levi's and he just likes to get stoned and listen to bubblegum music instead of relying heavily on fate and mercilessly killing people with a captive-bolt pistol.

Best Supporting Lady Actor-

Amy Ryan- Gone Baby Gone. I guess. This is sort of like choosing your favorite air freshener. Who gives a shit if it's citrusy or flowery as long as it doesn't give you asthma? This is the category that's gonna fuck your ballot up royally. Shit is toight! Tilda Swinton has just as good a chance, but I can't pull the trigger on her- she kind of frightens me, like in an M. Night Shymalan kind of way...OK, bad example. Swinton's gonna win isn't she? Do you see my dilemma? Gone Baby Gone has to win for something, right? Or maybe not. Has anybody even seen this piece of shit?

Best Director(s)-
Joel and Ethan Coen- No Country for Old MenWhy not? I guess they seem likable, right? At least they're not as creepy as those whack-jobs, the Wachowski brothers. Not as funny as the Marx brothers, but almost as funny as the Van Dyke broughams. Anyway, the only reason I'm picking them over PT Anderson is that There Will Be Blood might kinda blow if not for DD-L. I'm trying to imagine who could replace Daniel Day-Lewis and get away with an Oscar contender. Short list: Geoffry Rush, Ian McShane, Ray Winstone...basically, anybody who was in Sexy Beast. That's abou it. And that's why No Country shall prevail! I hope that sack of shit Schnabel doesn't pop up in there like an unwanted air-conditioning boner in pajamas and yellow-tinted wayfarers. Besides, Schnabel, I'm still holding you accountable for the Soho art scene of the late 1980's.....well, you and Keith Harring. You killed Basquiat! You stabbded him in the heart with a shard of broken plate!

Best Picture (Movie Type Motion Picture)-No Country For Old Men.
Some people are griping about the ending, but it makes perfect sense if you see it twice and not high. The whole meaning of the movie is in the title of the movie. Some critic-types like to rely on nieuance and conjecture and fancy Harvard degrees when trying to decipher meaning from certain movies- I like to read the title and/or look at the poster as context clues as to what the dumb-shit movie is about. 9 times out of 10 the title will clue you in to what it's about. For example: Jaws- while the title itself doesn't tell you it's about a giant rubber shark who eats awesome 70's tits, THE POSTER might help you out. Either way, jaws are involved in this motion picture. In the case of No Country for Old Men, Tommy Lee Jones plays what? An old man. Henceforth, this is no country for him! So what's with the soliloque at the end? He's pointing out that he'll never be able to change anything and ultimately, the country will always be filled with outlaws and mop-topped freaks who like to get they kill on. Cleanin' it up just ain't in the cards, hombre. It's just a dream, brotha. This ain't intramurals, It's the motherfuckin' badlands, for certain. Anyway, this movie spake to me more than Blood, so I give it bigger gold star.

Best Supporting MILF-
You wish, pervy.

GLARING NOMINATION OMISSIONS:
BEST ACTOR:Russell Crowe, 3:10 To Yuma
Emile Hirsch, Into the Wild
Denzel Washington, American Gangster
That little English kid, This is England

Ruffalo, Zodiac
Sam Riley, Control

Best Picture:
Superbad

Knocked Up

Zodiac
American Gangster

Best Lady:
Helena Bonham Carter, Sweeney Todd

Best Soundtrack:
There Will Be Blood- I know, there's one Brahms piece so it's dq'd, but I'm gonna go ahead and say fuck off to the academy.
Into the Wild- say what you will about edward vedder, it worked.

I'm not gonna bother with the rest. Just divy it up - coustumes and shit go to Sweeney Todd, Ratatouille.

SEE YOU AT THE MOOOVIIES!

I'd also like to take this opportunity to say that I'm sorry for any of my Friendsters that I left hangin' for like 3 years. I promise that I'll answer your 2005 questions shortly. And in some cruel twist of fate, we shall all go back home, even though we can never go home again.

High School Musical. No Shit. A Critical Review of Seaholm High School's production of Footloose.

2008-01-31T06:44:00.000-05:00

The harrowing preamble of the Kenny Loggins-pired overture to "Footloose" imposed its berserking will on unsuspecting theater-goers, laying waste to even the most seasoned community-theater-fancier and Mr. Doso, AP Chemistry teacher, in 4/4 time. No one seated in the raked, American procenium-styled auditorium suspected that even the most casual of musical-theater supporters (including a group of high school bitches in row H who kept fucking up the wireless microphone headset signals because they kept texting each other about how to suck even more or how 'hott' Ren (Colby Holdings) looked in a scandalously loose tie, popped collar, and 'down to business' sleeves-up blazer--JUMPBACK!! WTF) would become casualties by the first exeunt. The shock and awe of the spectacle made me wonder if I was seeing a high school production of "Footloose" or if I might have inadvertently stepped into some sort of awesome land mine and blew the shit out of my life and was all dead and flew up to some sort of Kevin Bacon-themed amusement park in heaven and shit. Six degrees of shit yeah. Six Flags of Kevin Bacon? Six Degrees over Kevin Bacon. 65 degrees of raging boner! The musical accompaniment proved to pack the 1-2 punch that the Fall production of "Dirty Dancing" sorely lacked. Several school officials blamed the lackluster performance on the Boosters (it's always their fucking fault), but orchestra pit insider and Cellist, Phillip A. Tang, indicated that an intense and distracting turf war between the Musical Ensemble and Jazz Ensemble lead to missed practices, tuba wounds, broken reeds, clogged spit valves, and even worse acne for the percussion section.

With a tender but assured performance from lead floutist, Jennifer Shoreler, who seemed to be preoccupied between flouts by adjusting an oversized Jodeci sweater that kept falling off her shoulder, picking Red Vines licorice remnants out of her braces, and guffawing at cut-up Brandon Donker (making rude hand gestures at the expense of contrabassoonist Shawnda Stevens' adolescence) the Footloose ensemble masterfully provided the poignant soundtrack to the show- including three hits (Almost Paradise- Mike Reno feat. Ann Wilson, Let's Hear It for the Boy- Deniece Williams, and Footloose- Kenny Loggins)- Waiting For a Girl Like You by Foreigner being the glaring omission, of course.

music alone doesn't make a musical. I realize that sounds counterintuitive, but you know where i'm headed. Colby fucking Holdings. O.K., if you're going to do Ren McCormick, you've got some mighty big docksiders to fill (not only Bacon, but Adrian Zmed's Branson, Missouri production). Unfortunately, Holdings is about a penny shy of a full loafer. He might think about sticking with some sensible balmorals, some gouache moc-toed kilties, or even a nice Algonquin paneltoe. Can I stretch this metaphor out any longer? can i be any more bored of a blog? Fuck this, i'm going to go watch project Runway instead.

Barfness

2008-01-25T16:19:00.000-05:00

Modern Yawn Ribbon of Participation is hereby awarded to:

Christian from Project Runway

For: Awesome Usage of the English Language While Advancing Asymmetrical Hair Stylings.

"I'M GONNA DIE OF BARFNESS"

You go, Feroche.

My Ledger, Other People's Leisure

2008-01-22T19:56:00.000-05:00

Heath Ledger died today. Which totally blows ass over balls. I'm calling a moratorium on the Ledge. No more lines from Brokeback Mountain. At least for a while. I'm gonna have to get back to Vanderbeeking the shit out of this blang. You'll be missed, homie.

Searching for Bobby Fischer

2008-01-18T12:48:00.000-05:00

The following is a eulogy written for Bobby Fischer at the behest of the Fischer family estate. Notation for the delivery of the speech in Iceland is included.

(wait for applause to subside)

Bobby Fischer.

B-O-B-B-Y. F-I-S-------wait for it----C---H-E-R. Unusual spelling, huh, gang? With a "C."
Shocking news from the chess world always brings me out of hiding, even if it is to have a bootleg tet-a-tet (in defiance of international sanctions) with ya'll ice boners. When they asked me to write Bob's eulogy, I was pleased as punch. Sure, I never met the grandmaster or whatever, but I feel like I was tapped due to my sincere love of board games. Growing up, I never really gave a shit about chess--until I found out that Chess King sold Cavaricci pants at the mall--But Bob did give a shit about chess, man. I mean he really played the shit out of it.

They say that Bobby Fischer had one

of the greatest minds, if not the greatest ass in chess.(shuffle notecards indicating aw-shucks confusion) Which is impressive and all, but Dwayne, the guy who works at the mobile phone store down the street and sells deeply-discounted name-brand stereo speakers out of the back of his van, has a great mind for cellular phones, available features and rate plans and such, with an even greater mind for Backgammon, whatever the fuck that is. Which is more impressive, asks I? Why did I just write a Popeye sentence? (wait for laughter to subside) I mean the chess thing is pertinent in a relative manner, as such and not withstanding....life. Somewhere along the way, chess became some sort of self-important game that nerd people liked playing with other nerd people and the homeless and communists and then, out of nowhere, bullshit computers. A chess player is typically a maladjusted male, non-blogger, from Europe or is some sort of wizard with the inter

personal skills set of a video arcade clerk in Wyandotte, Michigan(use Yoda voice fo

r affect): "You can't get pure gaming from that! I suggest you try Donkey Kong and quit wasting your tokens on something as pedestrian as Bubble Bobble. I'll give you 10 credits for two dollars...cash, I will." I mean what's so awesome about that shit? Muffin. Speaking of which, refreshments will be served shortly after the service--I hear the crullers are just dynamite- better than Tim Horton's. Making the Iceland/Canada connection....North America. I live on that continent.

Iceland! I mean out of all the places to be found in the world! Bob has staked his claim as one of Iceland's greatest! Bjork....15 active volcanoes...geothermal spas...ice...just too many great things to mention about this place. But now Bobby Fischer will be on that list of awesome Iceland. So in conclusion, as it goes, the world still turns and people still will search vigilantly for Bobby Fischer, even if all they find is just some regular-ty

pe kid who can play chess awesome and who's dad looks like Joe Mantegna. (pause)

And before I go try to eat fermented whale with the eskimos, a suggestion for Bobby Fischer's epitaph:

IT'S THERE....IT'S SEVEN MOVES AHEAD, BUT IT'S THE

RE!

Wait! I mean

CHECKMATE, BITCH!

promisekeeper

2008-01-04T01:15:00.000-05:00

Promisekeeper isn't just the name of Lars Ulrich's solo record anymore. No, indeed, it is the title of this blang entry. The promise that I am keeping has to do with me making a commitment to 2008 and of course, you or whatever. I made the "big-guy-upstairs" a promise that I would make at least one entry per week for the Yawn. I don't know if I've told you about my close, personal relationship with J.C.- "the big-guy-upstairs." Jurgen Calvin is this fat fucking German who lives upstairs from me. He's renting out my attic and using it to record some gothic industrial bands- it's a pretty big deal- one of the synth guys in one of the bands knows a guy who has Al Jourgensen's number on his iPhone. The thing that pisses me off most about the bands he records (and the smell of bockwurst curing--I know, I had no concept of this meat either) is the names of these bands - Brennendes Themai, which might sound OK in German, but translated, it means Hot Topic. Wolfpriest might not sound too bad either, but with types of 'wolf' band names floating around these days, good luck! I mean how hard is it to come up with a band name? Gothlete, Knifemare, Suicide Pretention. There you go. Three free of charge, bitches. Sidebar: in the movie Juno, Jason Bateman, or George Michael's dad, as I like to call him, was in a band that opened for the Melvins, however, his band's name is never revealed. Thank god. Because band names, no matter how plausible they may be, sound fake (at least Richard Linklater-penned) in movies. You know in High Fidelity the name of Jack Black's band is Sonic Death Monkey. What the fuck? Who had the board meeting, got Jack Valenti in on the con-fab and decided that bands with 'monkey' in their title are something actual people would actually do? Yes, I'm excluding your college jam band, Touch My Monkey, who used to slay open mic night with your cover of Cheeseburger in Paradise by Jimmy Buffet. Keep up with me, McCognaughey. O.K. luckily Cusack's girlfriend Laura (Iben Hjejle) was foreign-tennis-player hot.... sort of like Bjorn Borg with bangs and lady tits. But what about all the other crappy names that fake bands have in fake movies? List- go.
1. The Barbusters- Light of Day
2. Eddie and the Cruisers- s/t
3. Mystery- Satisfaction and Detroit Rock City
4. Citizen Dick- Singles
5. Steel Dragon - Rockstar
6. Hey, That's My Bike- Reality Bites
7. Loveburger- Can't Hardly Wait
8. The Ultimate Losers- Slacker
9. Wylde Rattz- Velvet Goldmine
Honourable mentions for shitty lead singer names: from Velvet Goldmine- Curt Wild and Brian Slade
from Rockstar- Bobby Beers
After careful consideration, I'm going to change canoes here and champion the people who came up with great fake band names for stuff. With that, there are several names from flicks that have passed muster:
1. Sid Arthur- Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen
2. Autobahn- Lebowski
3. The Hot Rollers- Nice Dreams
4. And And And - Commitments

5. Baldwin and the Whiffles- Cry Baby
6. Big Fun- Heathers
7. Blender Children/Cube Squared- Tapeheads
8. Ming Tea -Austin Powers
9. Pink Slip - Freaky Friday
10. Sexual Chocolate - Coming to America
Honorable mentions for genius names: all three from CB4 - MC Gusto, Dead Mike, and Stab Master Arson- they all have to work together or not at all.Also: The Queen Haters from SCTV and Leather and the Suedes from Happy Days and Lenny & the Squigtones, Zack Attack from Saved By the Bell, and Pain from CHiPs.
If you can think of any from either list let me know. In the meantime enjoy these:

Suck It, 2007!

2007-12-31T16:26:00.000-05:00

I'm back from Christmas, bitches! After careful deliberation over the last eight days I just gotta say: I wish I knew how to quit you. Nah, sears though, I had the lot of you on pins and needles when I pink-slipped myself and offered my 'mouts, lates, upottas and quits - I also probably had a couple of you installing software that will make you "indivisable" on the internets of computers after finding out that I could speed-dial the shit out of my boo, Chris Hansen on y'all perverts. Anyway, I just found out about that "5th taste" bullroar. As some of you may know, if I had my druthers, which i don't, we wouldn't have fake news stories about mythical creatures (giant squid), bullshit events (Anaheim Ducks winning the Stanley Cup), barmy theories (Faraday's Law of Induction), balderdash phenomena (Rusty Trombone), or folkloric new tastes contaminating the pristine ecosystem that is my blang (my campaign to make "blog" sound more streets). As this fish story goes, the Japanese have a flavor theory called umami - actually, they've had that theory for about 100 years, but it's relatively new when you consider sushi has been around for over 23 years now (the term sushi was first used in the Breakfast Club when Claire explains that it's rice, seaweed, and raw fish and then Bender's all," you won't accept a guy's tongue in your mouth, and you're gonna eat that?" And then there was that one awesome part when Bender's like, "Stupid, worthless, no good, goddamn, freeloading son of a bitch. Retarded, big mouth, know-it-all, asshole, jerk. You forgot ugly, lazy and disrespectful. Shut up bitch. Go fix me a turkey pot pie. No dad, what about you? Fuck you. No dad, what about you? Fuck you. Dad, what about you? Fuck you." Gosh, I hope they said "hi" to each other in the hallways on Monday) This theory postulates that there is another taste in addition to the perennial favorites: sweet, sour, salty (way to name a taste after a mineral, asses), and bitter. Around the turn of the Century, famous French chef-guy Escoffier (an antediluvian Esteban, but instead of providing tasty licks on slapdash guitars, he provided tasty braised lamb shanks with demi-glace d'agneau, while simplifying and modernizing Carême's elaborate and self-indulgent style to the gastronomic illuminati, the so-called gastroluminatti) used veal stock to achieve this delectable phantom taste. He was so enamored with his stock that he used it on everything, including his own wiener-- not unlike how we now use Ranch dressing to make everything from deep-fried cheese sticks to filet mignon taste Ranchier, and ultimately more tits. Rich people figured this out a long time ago- rich bitches dictate the taste, the taste doesn't dictate nothing. Sort of like Prince. Dave used to say Prince was so rich, motherfucker smelled like pennies! Now, as it were in turn, pennies are so rich, motherfuckin' pennies smell like Prince. Plus, Prince uses Appolonia stock. Whatever that means. Hey- 2007 is winding down. It's time for the end-of-the-year wrap-up blang! So let's go!

TOP 6 AWESOME MOVIES OF 2007
1.Wild Hogs- Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought that I would be such a hog for this movie! When I heard the cast included John Travolta, William H. Macy, Tim Allen, and Martin "Mar-hen" Lawrence I was happier than a pig in shit! Just when you thought Travolta was the biggest ham in the movie, along comes William H. Macy--the other white meat! I was laughing so hard at all the hogwash I ended up curled up on the floor in the fetal position getting porked in the bacon cave by Martin "you go, girl" Lawrence's laugh tenderloins ! This ensemble, made in hog-heaven, made me want to pig-out on some more Tim 'the tool-man' Allen and friends! So unlike Ice Cube, have mama cook the breakfast with hog!

2.Hairspray- In this remake of the John Waters classic, wait.... I've never actually sat through the original. Sorry. I mean I've put forth a strong effort, after all, I saw Cecil B. Demented at the theater. And I once put an eyeliner pencil-mustache on a dog. It's just like instead of sitting down and watching that, I'd rather watch something even more shocking and subversive, like Varsity Blues or On Golden Pond. John Waters is like that homeless guy that you see all the time who you hope will get his shit together and really kick some ass, but you're consistently bummed-out that he keeps stealing tapes from your car and shitting in Burger King cups. Anyway, this is a remake and it has John Travolta playing a great big fat lady. Hilarity ensues. Christopher Walken shows up in this piece, which isn't shocking. I love Walken, but I'm concerned, some of his movie picks have been a little suspect-Joe Dirt, Kangaroo Jack, Gigli, Man of the Year, The Deer Hunter, and Balls of Fury.
3.National Treasure: Book of Secrets- What can I say? Ever since Con Air, there is no caging Nicholas.

4. Failure to Launch- see photo.
5. August Rush - little disappointed in the exclusion of Geddy Lee, but overall, a strong showing from Rhys Meyers making a power-play for commercial success, thrusting power, and longevity in the hearts of Romantics everywhere. He also bangs a waitress.

6. I Now Pronounce You Chuck & Larry- I now pronounce me fucking having a major boner for this RoCo. If you told me I was going to like a gay movie with gays and stuff and them gays getting married, i'd call you a gay homo-wad to your face. But now I'm like into gay cinema and gay porn because of Kevin James and Adam Sandler. I hope they stay gay. BTW WTF and FMUTA, who keeps hiring Dan Aykyroyd for shit? That's pretty gay.

TOP 10 MUSICAL SONGS OF 2007. I now listen to music from sources other than Target or television ads-- Nip/Tuck and Grey's, bitches.

1. Young Folks- Peter, Bjorn, and John - winners of the licensing sweepstakes.
Used in ads for American Eagle Outfitters, Napster, Amazon.com, AT&T, Budweiser. Also had appearances in Dirty Sexy Money, How I Met Your Mother, Gossip Girls, Grey's Anatomy, etc.
2. Outback Steakhouse song- Of Montreal (for Outback Steakhouse)
3. 1234- Feist (for Apple)
4. Our Country- John Mellencamp (for America)
5. Watch Us Work It- Devo (for Dell)
6. The W.A.N.D.- Flaming Lips (for Dell)
7. How Deep is Your Love- Bee Gees (for Pizza Hut)
8. Chocolate Rain- Tay Zonday (for You Tube)

Worst Music Video 2007

Three-way tie for last
Alicia Keys- No One - No one looks awesome standing awkwardly at a synthesizer trying to jam hard on it.
3 Doors Down (feat. National Guard and Revolutionary War Re-enactors)- America, Fuck Yeah!- A bonus pre-feature presentation shown before the previews at the cinema. Propaganda targeting the disenfranchised male 16-21 demographic who wanna kick some commie ass and make America a safe harbor for musical theater (it was shown prior to Sweeny Todd).

Top Trainwrecks 2007
1. It's Britney, bitch.
2. Drew Berrymore's dating career- Fabrizio Strokes to Spike Jonze to Zach Braff to the iMac commercial guy.
3. The Kerang train collision- June 5, 2007
4. Owen Wilson
5. Amy Winehouse- you were the most popular Halloween costume this year.
6. Rock of Love with Bret Michaels
7. The Modern Yawn

Top TV 2007
1. Rock of Love with Bret Michaels
2. Grease: You're the One That I Want
3. Armed and Famous
4. Sarah Silverman Program
5. Flavor of Love Girls: Charm School
6. It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
7. Kid Nation
8. Victoria Beckham: Coming to America
9. Mad Men
10. Kitchen Nightmares
11. Cavemen
12. Pushing Daisies
13. The Search for the Next Elvira

Top 10 food items 2007

1. Pizza
2. Falafel (up 3 from last year)
3. Tapioca Pudding
4. Sabra brand hummus
5. Whatever new pizza Pizza Hut comes up with
6. Ranch Dressing
7. Talapia
8. Milk
9. Burger King crown-shaped Chicken Tenders(TM)
10. Frozen Vegetables

In Memoriam 2007
Yvonne DeCarlo - Lilly Munster
Calvert DeForest- Larry 'Bud' Melman
Don Ho- singer
Bobby 'Boris' Pickett- Monster Mash
Anna Nicole Smith- pickle eater
Charles Nelson Reilly
Tom Poston- Newhart
Joel Siegel- movie critic
Lee Hazlewood
Hilly Kristal- cbgb's
Porter Wagoner
Goulet
Kevin Dubrow- quiet rioteer
Evel Knievel- inspired numerous dive-poses off of a dock
Pimp C
Ike Turner- Pimp T
Richard Jeni
Tammy Faye Bakker
Marcel Marceau- walked into the wind
Kurt Vonnegut
Tom Snyder- punk-rocker/TV host
Merv Griffin
Pavarotti
Norman Mailer
Alice Coltrain
Ingmar Bergman
Pete Doherty- oh. Really? Are you sure? Sorry, my bad.

Christmas List 2007

2007-12-12T17:43:00.000-05:00

Should I start by saying something like "'tis the season..." See, the problem with that is that i want you to say dot-dot-dot, not just imply trailing off into a grammatical abysm. So read it again. wait, i'll just write it again. 'tis the season, dot-dot-dot. Well, should I? This is getting confusing. Christmas time is here, you little dickens, and I wanted to get into the spirit of things. So anyone familiar with blogging knows you can get free stat (jargon from the biz meaning "stastistics") counters. Wait a minute. I just realized that not only do I have a hard time pronouncing stasastics, I can't spell the shit out of it either (pronounced i-thurr, and is indeed not a registered trademark of the Apple corporation, nor does the term thurr hold any affiliation with superstar rapper Chingy). Anyway, with this service, you can find out all sorts of demographic shit and see where people are reading from, how many times they've visited, and other bullshit that men of less virtue might use unscrupulously to make ill-gotten gains in the world of blogging for losers. But the kicker is that you can find the keywords that were entered to direct the unwitting and anonymous viewers to my dumb fucking Modern Yawn. Suckers!
I have to say that I'm a little disappointed in you guys. Here's a short list of keywords and how many times they were entered and ended up in this dump.
THIS IS COMPLETELY REAL- I DID NOT TAMPER WITH IT. comments follow.

Search Term
4 4.44% modern yawn I'd like to thank the academy and the 4 people who actively searched the blog out by name last month. I'd also like to thank the guy 2 months ago who tried "Modern Yawp", after a rousing viewing of Dead Poets' Society, presumably.

3 3.33% ray species thailand - Yeah, right.
2 2.22% the modern yawn - Thanks again, yous two.
2 2.22% kmart silver paint huffing - Well, Kresge seemed so phonebook.
2 2.22% yawn face -This has to be an iTunes band.

2 2.22% euphesis
2 2.22% dick clark rocking new year - What an asshole.
2 2.22% hillbilly christmas - Controversy ensues.
2 2.22% gerald naftaly -My homie, my mayor.
2 2.22% gay porn -It was bound to happen.
1 1.11% misfits panties - your girlfriend should thank me.
1 1.11% christ the redeemer picture david caruso -I knew that image would someday become iconic.
1 1.11% chocolate starfish and the hot dog flavored water blogspot -Hey Fred Durst, shouldn't you be shooting a Behind the Music instead of checking my awesome shit out?
1 1.11% no shit shylock Shylock?
1 1.11% the shocking blue hot sand blog
1 1.11% whats so special about the 7 ancient wonders of the world -My point exactly!
1 1.11% hillbilly - Takes one to know one.
1 1.11% no shit, shylock -Again with the shylock.
1 1.11% soft pajama seen on rachael ray -What the fuck is wrong with you, perv?
1 1.11% oscar the grouch decal -What, is the internet out of Calvin and Hobbes peeing on a Chevy logo decals?
1 1.11% man yawning faces - Jackass molesting computer.
1 1.11% modern 7 wonders of the world in sequence - Mostly because I'm 6% Sprite, 20% fruit punch, 11% O.C.D.
1 1.11% wnic alan almond - If the yacht is rocking, text me and bring the Champale.
1 1.11% carrottop
1 1.11% marisa tomei. grimaces
1 1.11% barry trotz -You are an extremely boring individual
1 1.11% face/offmegaupload.com| -More like Face/Awesome
1 1.11% garages in america -This is a fascinating coffee table book

1 1.11% samhain final descent blog mp3 -Dood, just fucking pay Danzig for it. Don't try that blog mp3 bullshit.
1 1.11% garage days revisited
1 1.11% panic * at the taco bell -We'll let you slide on this lyrical boner
1 1.11% dylan adairs new balance trainer
1 1.11% recap modotti - Must have been bored between Fugazi releases.
1 1.11% famous oscars
1 1.11% huffing silver paint -The internet will provide you with detailed instructions.
1 1.11% hey marianne - Mmmm, coconut pie.
1 1.11% noise hear yawn - Malvert sometimes pee red.
1 1.11% yawn blood sound - I got dibs on this band name!
1 1.11% crate ca125dg telluride review - Probably returned all sorts of kick-ass results.
1 1.11% all stingray species
1 1.11% bobby hull picture with pitchfork -Whatever, hockey perv.
1 1.11% does 7-eleven diapers - There is no way i'm just going to a convenience store and hope that they are convenient without consulting the internet first.
1 1.11% rachael ray shitty-tipper - AND HOW!
1 1.11% amplifier tuning - wild thing troggs -I'm a big fan of amplifier tuning. that's where most young guitarists go wrong.
1 1.11% little red donkey download - Let's give him the benefit of the doubt.

1 1.11% ringo and sun country and alcoholic -And awesome search terms, Sir Paul. But don't you still have his phone number?
1 1.11% how tall is mike ricci really? -Why the fuck should.....? I'll assume you were actually interested in how short Christina Ricci is.
1 1.11% the devil wears prada excerpts cerulean blue- Cerulean blue? Go back to the register, Utrecht needs you.
1 1.11% brand of goggles jabar wore -Finally, something worthwhile to look up.
1 1.11% ugliest man mullet - See Mike Ricci.
1 1.11% modern yawn blog - Gooooooaaaaaaaalllllll!!!

1 1.11% wooderson melba toast - and yes, I will be drivin' into Houston to pick up the Aerosmith tickets.

1 1.11% pulled over doing 185 in maserati -Ted, just admit it. I know it's you, motor city madman. And yes, I was aware of my Jane's Addiction reference. You know, they are out of vogue just enough at this point that you might want to "re-discover" their entire catalog before you hear it at Urban Outfitters ironically.
1 1.11% music makes me want to lose control - Let me guess, you're white!
1 1.11% lady of the manor wallpaper -My Anthropologie homie!
1 1.11% kathy griffin melanie griffin -Keeep goin'! You'll get to Merv eventually.
1 1.11% ringo wine cooler I have no problem with these search terms whatsoever.
1 1.11% microwaveable container and patents and progresso - Made out of lead.
1 1.11% kathy griffin comedien -Someone needs to disallow you from Google. YOU'RE GROUNDED! 1 1.11% old rock : can't get her out of my head
1 1.11% fat c.... fucking -Seriously? You are wrong on two levels, Uncle Keith.
Say what you will about the modern yawn, its readership is a bunch of fucking losers. I quit.
Merry Christmas!

The King

2007-11-17T16:36:00.001-05:00

"In the end, the emperor gave every man, much as was worth eleven or twelve ducats a year, namely, myself, the captain, and mariners all alike." -Will Adams

The Captain. El Capitan. Il Yachtsmanado. Stephen Gregory Yzerman. Senor Crunch.______& Tennille.
The wind had ceased while the sun tucked b'hind the friendless encumberance that were vapor and dew, whilst the gears in every mechanical convenience ground themselves into atramentous talc, haulting the strident thud of the busy stroll. Then, out of the ether, a calamitous fuss born of turbulence and economy thundered over the esker. 'Twas he, that same ghoulish blackgaurd who's name rarely was spake in an unhushed manner. The Captain. In a conversion van. From the uncontested master of horror, Stephen King, comes a new defintion of terror. The Captain's Chair.OK, dick-dusters, I know that Stephen King can't write sentences as well as I can, but for crissakes(Stephen King is the uncontested master of PG spelling- see sonofabitch and goddammit) can that bitchass please stop making money off of the same pieceofshit 10 books he wrote in 1979? And for fucksake, quit playing in that special-needs band you started with Dave Barry- BTW, does the job Humor Columnist still even exist? I think I could do it. I would be edgier, though, because I would drink and swear and make fun of the Polish. I'd also call ladies "dames" and listen to swing music, but more about me later. Dave Barry would be a Dane Cook to my Redd Foxx. Anyway, I was just chillin at the crib, suckin' don some Michelob Awesome(TM)'s- they now contain Hoodia and tiger penis!- watching a preview for the latest Stephen King adaptation of an adaptation of a poem called The Mist. In case you weren't down, it's about a mist that invades a town and scares the shit out of people and kills them and then there's a bunch of rubber insects and it's all fucking foggy. I know, it's been done before. By John Carpenter, the master of fog. It was called The Fog. Except it didn't have rubber insects and it had Adrianne Barbeau whippin her potatoes all over the place. Before the blanket re-usage of 70's writing, King managed to get someone to make a made-for-TV version of The Shining. Steven Weber (from the acclaimed situational comedy, Wings) laid Nicholson's Jack Torrance to waste. Sidenote: If you play the soundtrack to the Wizard of Oz with the made-for-TV Shining, it will make you wish you were watching Maximum Overdrive instead. Estavez. I can't believe that guy is having so much success selling guitars on QVC. Carrie and Salem's Lot were remade for television as well- and if you ever see Salem's Lot (the 1979 Mini-series event), it's like thank you, Jesus.I can't believe I was such a pussy when I was eight and thought that was actually scary. It was more like what the fuck is Hutch doing in this gay vampire movie? Where's Starsky? And why am I loving James Mason so much, I'm only eight. So anyway, Stephen King has the horror sweepstakes down: pick something that kind of creeps you out kinda and make it creepier. Case in point: 1408. Hotels are creepy or whatever (again, not to overuse an idea, The Shining). Add some bad laser animation and voila! 70 million domestic, off a novella. Nice picture of a ship coming to life! I haven't seen shit like that since Weird Science when Gary's grandparents start 1-finger-pointing-up dancing in that weird and wild picture. What the fuck is a novella anyway?
Why don't they call it a short novel? They fucked-over the short story. Why not Storyella? Anyway, as per device to fiction writing, there is conflict, be it external or internal: Man vs. Man, Man vs. Nature, Man vs. Society, Man vs. Bear Grylls, Man 2 Man (Saugatuck chapter), Bi-curious Man vs. Randy "Macho Man" Savage and the stunning Elizabeth, Ballistic: Ecks vs. Sever, Leiber vs. Stoller, Wolfman vs. the Creature from the Black Lagoon, Coke vs. New Coke, Spinks vs. Holmes,et. al. Recently,in the spirit of the master of horror, some other pole-smokers figured out that otherwise benign parking structures are kind of creepy if some psycho killer locks you in one and tries to psycho-kill the shit out of you 'til you die. It's called P2. And after about a half hour of that bullshit, i had to pee, too. And barf. Whatever. Anyhow, I'm trying to write a screenplay based on me being frightened of Frankenmuth, MI. It's like always Christmas there. Always. Including Christmas even. Despite it having some super B&B's, it's creeped-out 365 days of the year.
Enough of that. What ever happened to A tribe Called Quest?

Ghostly

2007-10-23T14:17:00.000-04:00

"Pizza's two for $4.99, chief, you want pepperoni on that, boss? Want a peach-flavored blunt wrap to go with that, bro?" Excuse me, I didn't hear you, I was busy having a blessed day. What's with convenience-oriented interpersonal communication these days? It blows balls with stink-lines. The lady at the 7-Eleven with the rose tattoo on her finger is always nice and encourages me to 'have a nice morning' before 'egging me on' to get an extreme egg and sausage breakfast taquito. But there's a fat lady regular who gets 3 of those suckers every morning and the last thing I wanna turn into is a fat lady, so I always pass. But I try to honor the lady-clerk's good intentions by having a good morning- and i promise her that i have plenty of sausage to jam on in my duffle. The lady-clerk has good intentions- she's a bit of a stickler, but she'll bend the rules to do you a favor if you're not new- once this guy in front of me got a 16 oz. coffee and extreme breakfast sandwich for $2.99. Rookie. The advertized deal was a 20oz. coffee and an extreme breakfast sandwich for $2.99. She let the guy slide with a cup that was clearly 4 oz. less than the advertized measurement. Pursuant to 7-Eleven laws of cup algebra, you need to keep track of cups or else there'll be disorder contributing to the widespread demise of the beverage industry. However, this is 7-Eleven and they let you fill up your own traveller without even touching the cup. Fuck that shit. talk about feeling unfulfilled, next time you go to 7-Eleven take your traveller in, fill it up, and go pay for just the coffee in your vessel. When you stare into the pure black liquid volume that fills your previously-filled space, you'll feel empty for paying for coffee with no cup. Cups are like souvenirs from an amusement park, while the ergonomic white lid/sippy rim is like the flourescent stuffed gorilla you won on the claw machine at the Bob Evans afterward. Wait...what? I'm pretty sure she mentioned to him that he had the wrong size and was a horrible parent to his children in line behind him, but let him slide anyway. Despite her usual friendly demeanor, she does get a little ticked if you tell her about the newspaper you're going to grab on the way out the door instead of having it physically there so at the P.O.S.(point of sale) she can zap it with her lazer dick. If you ever go to a Waffle House and manage to not get kicked out for havin' a wrassle with Kid Rock or Bob Seger or some other American bad-ass who writes self-fulfilling lyrical prophecies to poignent, heartfelt American rock ballads about "being on the road", the waitstaff there'll call you "hon" (short for honkey, I presume) and tell you to have a great morning, as well! So why is service so lame in the other places I go into that don't sell taquitos or waffles? The 7-Eleven lady knows a bunch of customers by their first names even, which makes me wonder when we'll be on a first-name-basis and I'll spot for her in the weightroom at the rec center or maybe we'll run into each other at the Target's or the K-Mart's or play a game of Aggrivation together or some other fucking awesome shit. The problem with convenient America is that it's quantity over quality. Consider the pharmacy. Pharmacies are the last safe harbor for buying embarrassing health and lifestyle products: Adult Diapers, Stool Softener, Jock Itch/Anal itch creams, pregnancy tests, "warming"-type lubricants, condoms, Vagisil, baby powder, douche bags, Vaseline, male sexual enhancement suppliments(Nymphomax, Cocksplosion, maybe even something calledHerbalQuiver, I guess) lice combs, polaroid film, and diarreha plugger. Spending an awkward 36 seconds waiting for the canon that is your receipt, to print can make you queasy and then you'll have to run back and get some milk of magnesia and they'll all laugh at you because you have diarreha ontop of your jock itch. If you can't offer friendly, professional-grade clerkery then go play intermurals, brother. But what might even more frightening than 47-inch receipt scrolls, all that knuckle hair dusting your Hamiltons and being called 'boss,' with every purchase is the motherfucking paranormal, bitches.Why is it that whenever some shit is haunted, it's a rectory or prison or olden time house? Why don't liquor-lotto stores or CVS's or 7-Eleven's ever get haunted by ghosts? There was this one time when this hobo walked in at Liqour Lotto Dollar Store and More and he had silver paint all over his mouth and nose, emitting a ghastly odor, looking all otherworldly while his metal-encrusted, Cuban-heeled Tony Lamas were making a clanking noise, like motherfucker was Jacob Marley hisself. I though to myself, is this place haunted or is that a hobo who's been huffing silver paint and wearing Tony Lamas?! Spooky shit.

Stormbringer

2007-08-25T11:43:00.000-04:00

this post is dedicated to Moose

When it rains, it pours. Or if you're into director Roger Donaldson's 1988 auteuristic vision, Cocktail, as much as I am, it'd be "when he pours, he reigns." And while I'm still a little upset about Singapore's controversial NC-16 rating of this Cruise jammy, it's important to take stock in the fact that some glamorized fishing village pitstop on the spice route/Indonesian Myspace thoroughfare couldn't break the spirit of the film for those under 16 years of age. As far as I'm concerned, Singapore can continue swinging from Malaysia's nuts. Let's face it, the Indonesians are still into fucking Friendster for God's sake! they're so behind the times, hipsters in Williamsburg take trips there to mine irony. Is it God's sake or sakes? In this context, it could look like I'm saying God's Sake (rice wine), but even then it's like fuck that Chinese shit, even if God did triple-ferment the shit out of it, gimme a Jagerbomb, broseph! But I'm not here to challenge the government of this so-called republic and/or "download" your 5'11 More-to-love Wiccan who makes over $250,000 a year and has 3 children even though you're 99 years old fake profile. I'm here to talk about the weather.This week was particularly interesting due to an unseason-y warm front, like some sort of el nino or St. Elmo's fire, that royally fucked errrbody's week up. I think some people died last weekend because of the 90 degree heat, but I think they were sweathogs who were totally into running some unhealthy amount of distance to begin with. Monday had everyone blastin' the A.C. harder than Soulja Boy's Crank That; by Wednesday, it was colder than a witch's titty....but like an old-timey witch, not Stevie Nicks' - or there's this one weird websight I accidentally saw where there was a bunch of crusty nakeds with 70's mounds- I guess retro witching is cool or whatever. The weather event was what almanac-ers and Martha Stewart devotees refer to as "Indian summer," a warm spell of low pressure that comes to roost over the midwest in early autumn, beckoning all types of assholes who wear shorts outside - yeah they're the same assholes who own convertables in the midwest. I'm not really a big fan of indian summer, mostly because once I got sick from a curry dish- the official explanation from a restaurant spokesperson was "Shiva's Misfortune" but i'm convinced it was rancid ghee- my trots looked like butter-flavored popcorn topping being dispensed at the Star Southfield- motherfuckers hit that shit like the pipe. I'm just kidding. I know that Indian refers to the savages who used to kill and eat cowboys and pilgrims for Thanksgiving. For some reason they have a rich and truly American legacy of unseasonable weather. Just like my history teacher used to say, "you buy the land, you get the indians."
Fall weather is nothing more than a precursorary affirmation that indeed, no matter how hard one may try to influence weather-- through shamanistic influence (getting your Doors cover band back together and pointing amplifiers toward the sun, jamming Celebration of the Lizard -all 17 minutes of it... no, not the obvious Indian Summer off the criminally overlooked B-side of the Morrison Hotel LP, hey, if tribute bands just did the so-called hits, their existence would be artless) or gettin' together with your gnostic co-worker yay-hoos and throwin' a good old fashioned rooster hex at 'ol Horus, the shit's going down. For example, today is the 13th day of october, which means there are 70 days until Winter arrives. Right now, according to the latest scientific data, the temperature of the sun is 5800 degrees Kelvin (0 Kelvin is absolute zero; H2O melts at 273 K (= 0° C = 32° F); H2O boils at 373 K (= 100° C = 212° F). If this is true (I'm still in talks with Kelvin about his "absolute zero" bullshit), that means that there is, assuming the sun is 70% Hydrogen, +/- 28% Helium, and 2% Dragon's Blood, a 1/173.2^5.2a(23 %) chance that the sun will die between now and Winter(proper). What's this all mean, then? (read that again like Michael Caine) It means that between now and Winter, your gonna get screwed if you don't layer your clothing.

Garage

2007-08-19T23:43:00.000-04:00

Garage sales are not unlike buying a Hapsburg a shot of Bourbon-a dicey prospect, to be certain (anybody into pre-World War I European history jokes?) OK, how about challenging Falco to a butt sex competition? The odds are against you, considering your opponent wrote 'Rock Me, Amadeus.' Unless, of course, you're Taco (of Puttin' On the Ritz fame), in which case, you may want to take the money line on your bad self. At any given yard/garage sales event, one must take into consideration the chances of encountering baby clothes, chromatic brown silkscreened fabric art by Marushka, Tom Clancy novels, and promotional telephones, once provided at no cost to subscibers, by Sports Illustrated or Newsweek magazines. Not to mention, inappropriate garage sale items such as Cool Whip tubs, bed pans (also those yellowed toilet donuts that geezers use to crap off of), half-used bottles of shampoo, expired presciptions, and underwear. Crappy items aside, you have to muster some sort of garage sale bravura to enter some stranger's temple, only to inform them (after a hurried sweep and scan) that they have nothing of interest to you. A simple "thanks," will usually suffice, but it can be a long walk if the cashier looks all dejected and shit because you couldn't find one single item worth your while for a quarter....especially if there's nobody else shopping to run static for you. One must keep in mind that although the items for sale were hand-selected and deemed sellable at a discounted rate (nobody should be too offended if you skip over the brass and scratched-oak bellows), it's still ultimately, a reflection of their tasteless, tacky lives. Let's face it, one's taste doesn't change that much, unless an Ikea gets built near a local expressway--in that case, even the hillbillies seem like the niwa-shi of the Meiji period (anyone into Japanese garden design jokes?). When one frequents garage sales, one is bound to run into other cheap assholes on the circuit. These worthy adversaries always seem to beat you to the next sale- they also are usually better prepared: they've got a van, they've got GPS, they even have a wingman riding bitch for optimal bric-a-brac scannage while you're haggling over the price of an erotic lithograph (I love Nagel!), and most imprtantly, they have DOROTHY- a state of the art weather probe that is used to study tornadoes by releasing several small sensors throuh the inflows of the tornado. If it works, DOROTHY will help increase warning times and save lives. Wait. That's the movie Twister. Sorry. Anyway, the good ones you only see on a Thursday or Friday, as Saturday is famously for ameteurs (who actually have to work during the week). Friday mornings are the best, but be careful about lunchtime rushes- they can harsh your mellowtop.
It is at this time that I would like to introduce new legislation that would effectively ban old people from garage sales. The other day I got beat to a fine Wusthof chef's knife that had a $7 tag on it by some old piece of shit guy. I was so pissed I screamed "What the fuck are you gonna do with that? You're gonna fucking die at like any minute. Give it up to someone who can use it for something else besides fending off the grim reaper's sickle!" My grandpa is such a fucking asshole. But seriously, there should be an age limit. Write your local representative.Another great thing happened to me the other day at a garage sale. I was busy MYOB'n just checking out some rare as shit Sing Along With Mitch records when I heard a lady say this:
"I'm gonna have to drop a dollar-fifty, Marty. It's an Escher."
I couldn't believe it! This lady found an M.C. Escher for a buck and a half! Fuuuck me. I'm so interested in tesselations and fucking lizards and shit and hands drawing hands and stairs that go up and down in space. I love doodling all types of cubes on legal pads when I'm on the telephone also. I've been into Escher since I first layed eyes on his awesome shit in poster-form in a college dormroom. I said to myself, what kind of fantastical realm has just been opened up to me and me alone? And I didn't get the fucking Escher that I rightfully deserve. Marty got it. You think Marty is gonna take care of it? You think Marty's gonna let it sleep in his bed when it's thundering outside? You think Marty is gonna let it use his toothbrush? You think Marty knows anything about fine art? You think Marty's not gonna throw it out when he gets rid of his Boris Vallejo prints and decides to make a Sportsroom instead, in an alcoholic rage? I'm over garage sales. Estate sales are much less bruising on my fragile psyche.

0100100110100001101000100

2007-08-15T07:59:00.000-04:00

Betwixt cocktails, re-runs and first-runs of Rock of Love, and placing several tiny adds in newspapers for profit, I have some spare time to check out music on the computer. Not a lot of it is particularly worthwhile, but it gives someone like me, with a busy schedule, the opps to act like I'm still a music fan and pay a bunch of money to get some bad-on binary codes and just let my comptroller emmulate some jameses. This week was particularly fruitful. Big ups to Gerald Naftaly, Mayor, Oak Park Michigan, you my boy.
Boyce & Hart- 'I Wonder What She's Doing Tonight'
I'm always looking for alternative sources for music because I lead such an alternative lifestyle. When I'm not eavesdropping on the kids by the Korn lunchboxes at Hot Topic (BTW, @ HT, THEY DON'T SAY 'BACK TO SCHOOL,' THEY SAY 'B2S,' just a little heads-up, in case you wanted to hang at the 'Topic), I'm constantly scanning and probing uncharted territories to find out about alternative music. So, as it were, I were headbanging to some oldies station, that was actually on a cable television channel, when I got freaked out because I heard my fucking jam. The city of Oak Park has a cluster of stations dedicated to community access, so whenever I'm not checking out 7 Mile To Belle Isle, and I am checking out what the fuck is going down at the library, or scopin' what's new on the seniors scene, or researching recycling procedures, I get to feast on whatever awesome station they have on in the background. My jam was Boyce & Hart's 'I Wonder What She's Doing Tonight.' First, it was like the second time I had heard that one in a fortnight. However, I had no idea who it was. So I did what any concerned citizen/self-elected block captain would do, and called the mayor's office to find out who in the world does the song that's on public access channel 15 right this second. Surprisngly, mayor Naftaly answered the phone and proceeded to tell me it was the Beau Brummels. I said, get the fuck out of here, that ain't the Beau Brummels, honky. He continued to try to convince me and started shootin' his mouth off about how he was in a bublegum band called The Cough Drops. I whipped out my last remaining bullshit card and used it on his hillbilly ass. After that, he retreated and rolodexed his old drummer Don over at Water and Sewerage (cronyism), and Don said it was Boyce & Hart. The mayor continued talking about the Beau Brummels, trailing off several times until he asked Don if they should get the band back together. This week, after several attempts to find some Boyce & Hart on iTunes, I managed to solve the iCryptograph and iType in Tommy Boyce & Bobby Hart.....domino, motherfucker! Also, The Honorable Gerald F. Naftaly, Mayor, would like to announce the reunion of Oak Park, Michigan's own, The Cough Drops (all-original line-up minus Bill Spokes and Don Lesbian) WSG/ Red Hat Society of Southern Oakland County reading passages from Homer's Odyssey (Edward Smith-Stanley,14th Earl of Derby's translation, not that cretin Martin Hammond's) 6:30 PM at pavillion # 2, September 12, 2007.
THE SHOCKING BLUE- "Out of Sight, Out of Mind"
According to legend, the Shocking Blue are primary figures in the Dutch Invasion, an often overlooked invasion--not unlike how dudes always forget the Reanaissance in Northern Europe. While Greene and other art fags want you to believe that Rome and Florence were the respective centers of the universe, they simply weren't. Bitches act like they never heard of Jan Van Eyck! Oh, yeah, woops! Conveniently forgot about The Ghent Alterpiece. Heya, we're Italiana, looka ata us! We have mustaches and speghetti and all our famous Renaissance artists have the same names as the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles...we-a win-a! Don't make me bust Pieter Bruegel the Elder out of his time-cage, he's likely to make you wish he never painted The Triumph of Death! I suppose I should let well-corduroyed nerdz battle this one in their texts, because frankly, I'm getting worked-up here. Most folks know the Shocking Blue from their big hit,"Venus." It's been used in women's razorblade commercials,so they got that check coming to them. Some other heshers might also recognize "Love Buzz," which Seattle heavy-metalers Nirvana covered on their debut album, Bleach. Do yourself a favor and get the Shocking Blue's version while you're at it- you'll wish everyone used sitars on their dumb songs. If you aren't familiar with the Flemish band, try-out the (partial) greatest hits on iTunes, it's virtually flawless, much like Dutch design...don't get me started! Here's the 5-star shake, if you must-
1. Venus
2. Love Buzz
3. Out of Sight, Out of Mind
4. Hot Sand
5. Shocking You

LIQUOR FINE, BUT WINE COOLER...FIRE BAD.

2007-08-12T13:19:00.000-04:00

After much deliberation and ballyhoo, I went to the store and purchased some alcoholic beverages to review. I was torn between actually buying drinks or, like my orgasms, totally faking it... and then reporting my scientific findings to y'all. I decided that for the betterment of my peeps and to the benefit of Hashim Manar Aziz (loosely translated: the destroying lighthouse bird), proprietor of the Liquor Locker Plus party store/dollar store, home of the 'Twofer' pizza deal- 2 medium 1-item pizzas for $4.99! I needed to actually purchase, consume, and, if I played my cards right, vomit the information all over your computer, as it were. You are reading this on a computer, right? If you don't have a computer, I can print entries out and mail them to you- give me a call or telegram me, or semaphore me. I started out with alcohol's proverbial fat friend, the wine cooler. Wine coolers are the alcoholic beverage industry's number one product with both a deposit and a stigma attched to them. It doesn't matter who you are, when you're buying wine coolers at the liquor store, or shoppe if you're into the olden days, or package store, or off-licence if you're into the monarchy, party store if you're into hard a's, vinmonopolet for my Norwegian homies, you always feel like an asshole. So I made sure to retain my "street cred" with the dudes in line behind me by buying some condoms, a Swisher, a bootleg FUBU sweatshirt, a mini-keg of Heiniken, and a vhs copy of "How To Juice a Guy in 10 Days"(imagine my disappointment when I got home and found out that neither Matthew McConaughey nor Kate Hudson were in this feature) along with the wine coolers. Those guys must have thought I was the bomb when I bounced out of that piece. So, without any further ado, here are my scientific alcoholic results.
Sun Country Wine Coolers-
Sun Country wine coolers are best when served warm out of the trunk of a 1987 Buick Park Avenue from a 2-litre bottle into a 16-ounce blue Solo cup. Ice is frowned upon, but if you must, use wedge-shaped ice from a refridgerator ice-making unit. Unfortunately, you can no longer get Sun Country in the 2-litre format. Back in 1991 they passed legislation called "Tammy's Law," which prohibited adult beverage manufacturers from using 2-litre bottles, celebrities disguised as polar bears, or so-called "Cooler Illusion" tactics to market wine coolers to milfs and dumb ass kids who couldn't figure out the difference between a cooler and a soda pop. And what's the deal with the spelling of litre? Having the 'r' before the 'e' seems sinister and suspiciously Canadian.When you have a Sun Country, it's a safer bet to have the original flavor (skip the peach, y'all). This particular batch of the "O" posessed a richly fruity flavor, somewhere between Cold Duck and how Lik-M-Aid Fun Dip tastes in the back of your throat after snorting it through a bendy straw. This stuff is fucking awful. You know when you have those drinks at the bar like whatever-sours or wussy shots like Kamikazes and your mouth and throat get covered in that tangy film? It's similar to that. And then you have to spend about three minutes making a face like a dog trying to eat peanut butter. Wait a minute, that's not a wine cooler, that's some sort of soda pop! Damn you, Ringo Starr and the "cooler illusion"!!

Seagram's Wine Coolers- Classy. What other word can describe a wine cooler that has a metallic gold label on it? I thought we were slummin' it until I noticed the gold foil and felt like a rich, fat bitch about to get my drink on. Oh, what's that you say? They just changed the packaging to appeal to the Hagar/McConaughey/Chesney/Buffet set (the leisurenista)? Fuck. Well, with awesome marketing and a crack creative team, they must have come up with some sweet-ass names for their product, right? "Wild Berries"- may not sound like much, but when you put 'wild' in a wild and crazy font it just screams wildness. You would think that they could afford some fonts other than the ones that come with Microsoft Word. "Passionate Kiss" should win some type of award for evoking images of island passion.Wait, Island Passion evokes images of island passion. Tahitian Sunset is another winner that makes me want to go to Tahiti (almost as much as I want to go to Fiji to taste their rare and seductively expensive waters). Calypso Colada wouln't look out of place on the menu at Bahama Breeze, and that place just about shits gold. And last but not least, my favorite clever drink name, "Bahama Mama!" I'm sensing some sort of promotion coming to someone in marketing. How's it taste? Ever been wasted, jamming out to Kenny Chesney's "Guitars And Tiki Bars" or "There's Something Sexy About the Rain," nude, dude? It tastes exactly like that, but no dick. Just kidding. There is a hint of dick to it. I'm a fraud. I couldn't afford all of the varieties that Segrams offers and just faked it. I'm going to go hang my head in island shame. No Mon.

To be continued.......

Alcoholics An-awesomeness!

2007-08-10T10:52:00.000-04:00

Cocktails and Dreams...I can picture it in pink neon. I am the last barman poet, I see America drinking the fabulous cocktails I make, Americans getting stinky on something I stir or shake...The sex on the beach, the schnapps made from peach, the velvet hammer...the Alabama slammer! OK, I'll spare you the genius of Cocktail for now. But consider young Brian, taking a job with sagely ol' Douglas Coughlin- a lifer barkeep who lives by his own set of laws, appropriately named Coughlin's Laws. The laws run the regular gamut of pseudo-Jonathan Livigston Seagull quacksalver to your run-of-the-mill drunkard wisdom to miniature wisdom book drivel you can impulse buy at the register of your area Borders bookseller. Coughlin's Law: Anything else is always something better. Coughlin's Law: Bury the dead, they stink up the place, etc. And for those of you who didn't get to test your counterintuitiveness by going through a week of training to run a cash register at Borders, let me let you in on a little secret: the magazines do not have magnetic anti-theft tags in them, feel free to shoplift the fuck out of your Mojo or your Everyday With Rachel Ray or your Advocate- but only because Alan Cumming is on the cover....what? I loved his portrayal of Mick Jagged in The Flintstones in Viva Rock Vegas! Alan Cumming is the bombdiggity. Anyway, there's poor Brian, embarking on his cocktails and dreams journey- the only problem is that it could end up more cocktails and less dreams and shortly after singing a drunken rendition of Chantilly Lace and getting crabs, he knows well that it could be he who ends up shooting himself on a yacht. So what do you do? Well, as Douglas Coughlin so elloquently put it: The Luck is gone / the brain is shot / but the liquor we still got.
Let's fuckin' rage!
OK, this is going to be an installment-based exploration of the finer alcoholic beverages available on the market. I am not advocating alcohol usage, and some of the following beverages are more like solvents than actual adult alcoholic beverages. I need a fucking taxonomist to help me catagorize this shit, so I'll start with the cheap shit and work in an upwardly fashion. Oh, who am I leg-pulling? It's all cheap. If you're looking for a review of Remy MartinLouis XIII Cognac, you would be Richard Branson or Diddy. And since you're not, let's move on. A quick runthrough of catagories seems appropriate-
Wine Coolers(Bartles & James, Sun Country, Seagram's), Malt Beverages(Zima, Mike's Hard Lemonade, Seagram's Ice, any other RTD's(ready to drink) A.K.A. Bitch Beer, Fortified Wines(Thunderbird, Night Train, MD 20/20, Cisco, Wild Irish Rose), Malt Liquors (Colt 45, St. Ides, Mickey's, Cammo, King Cobra, Old English, Schlitz Blue/Red bull, Crazy Horse, Magnum, Midnight Dragon), Beer.
Hold on, I need to go to the store.

Tall Man Contest......Go!

2007-08-09T09:42:00.000-04:00

As I lie in bed, combing my hair, playing a rousing round of The Minister's Cat, listening to Gilbert & Sullivan's 5th Savoy Opera, Patience-- I'm still in stitches over the Archibald Grosvenor character, who is, no doubt, based on Algernon Charles Swinburne- a fustian poet of diminutive stature (and a pillowbiter by most accounts) who was, as Oscar Wilde put it, "a braggart in matters of vice," which is an understatement when you consider that he kept company with the likes of Richard Monckton Milnes (Florence Nightingale's main hog) and Theodore Watts-Dunton (a lecherous scoundral by trade, sort of the Victorian answer to Vince Neil- although, Watts-Dunton didn't kill Razzle from Hanoi Rocks, sources claim he invariably smelled like beef jerky)--those snoodlers were all about the weird sex parties that involved the finest Italian oils and oaken bannisters. Much to my dismay, I have come to the realization that I am not living in the Victorian era- major fucking bummer, as I have always aspired to be like the artful Dodger of Dickens' realm, or at least some simulacrum of a pickpocket, burglar, tosher, or mudlark in Victorian England. Instead, I can only be a fan of the early Kinks and have to daily face the reality of living in an era where The Guinness Book Of World Records exists. And, sadly enough, it is considered newsworthy when one of these records gets broken. After all, it was that drunk mick, Sir Hugh Beaver (I can't make this shit up) who, while working under the auspices of Sir Arthur Guinness, created the record book in 1951. Consider the latest upset: 8 foot 5 inch Leonid Stadnik- the new World's tallest man. While I do understand the inherant irony of me liking Victorian living (actually, more like the Martha Stewart version of Victorian, which includes Tivo and accent colors) and disliking the Guinness Book, Victorians loved their oddites: Hypnotists, penny-farthings, Elephant Men, and "Australians". Nevertheless and what have you, the old tallest guy record has been broken! And what a strong finish from Stadnik! Who, by the way, should not be confused with Leonid the Magnificent from America's Got Talent. When the race started, some 37 years ago, Stadnik had no idea it would take 37 years to beat the Chinaman Bao Xishun (7'9") and the deadman Robert Pershing Wadlow (8'11''), but Stadnik has the heart of a champion, the eye of the tiger, and while his counterparts who, at the dawn of victory, on the plains of hesitation paused to rest, and resting, died...the giant wins the pennant! The giant wins the pennant! The giant wins the pennant! I know what you're sayin'....did he just turn 8'5" ? If not, why not take the Chinese fucker out when you were 34? The other tall guy was dead, so technically, he's still the tallest, while Stadnik has the tallest 'living' man record. Robert Pershing Wadlow is the bespectacled, if not well um, endowed, gentleman who's image is seared into your brain- just like the fat motorcycle twins, the bitch with the long nails, and Jack Palance. Wait. That was Ripley's Believe It Or Not! Chris Collinsworth hosted GBWRs.
Now, it could be argued that Guinness records are manufactured to keep relevant- for instance, there probably shouldn't be a world record holder for most baked beans eaten with a cocktail stick in 3 minutes (Nick Thompson, UK), the record for creepiest classic video game high scorer (Dwayne Richard, UK), or the record for largest collection of grills(goldfronts)(Lil' Jon(b. Little Jonathan) USA) What? Yeayuh!
But as long as there are people who have jobs ajudicating for those record hungry bitches over at Guinness, we'll be setting the Guiness Book World Record for awesome!

Fat Children Took My Life

2007-07-29T17:30:00.000-04:00

What's up, blogdonaviches? Long time no reads. I've been bad at posting lately due to me not really giving a shit about the internet. I've been busy with other analog concerns, including but not limited to: bikerides, washer toss, beer runs, poolside horseplay, drive-ins, functions, birthday parties, art openings, cat training, home improvements, and trying desperately to figure out a way for me to go on a fox hunt in the English countryside at some point during my life. Although, I may just have to settle for some kick-ass $88/roll Lady Of The Manor wallpaper from Anthropologie. What, you thought I only rolled with Pottery Barn? WTF? I just got done with an illegal blood transfusion so I'm feeling pretty fucking pumped, so let's roll it, bitches!
Cobras Vs. Outlaws- So I was checking out some triple crown little league baseball between the Cobras and the Outlaws on the small screen the other morning. It's what I do- watch televised little league games whilst ironing waffles, and creating new flavor profiles for egg-based breakfastes. Breakfasts. Many Breakfii. Whatever. I don't like catfish waffles, but they may work better with a tartar sauce or Kobe demi glace for dinner. Pretty disappointing considerin' I had to noodle them critters out the crick. Question: when did little league become so dicky? The teams today are filled with a bunch of 10-year-old assholes. Even the fat kids are dicks. Back in the day (enter old man with walker) little league used to be a fun way to learn about the game of baseball and teamwork and bullshit like that. Nowadays, the teams have a bunch of dickhead posers- you know, the same shit-eaters who used to dominate your ass in kickball (after being picked last) only to humiliate you the next day by making it all the way to the top of the gym rope while you got about six feet off the floor before sackburning your balls all the way back down? Yeah, those assholes had kids. While we're here, what the fuck was with the rope, anyway? I want an answer, Mr. Emmert! And since when did they let fat kids be good at sports (or anything)? Look, there's a pecking order here, so if fat bitches would get in line (not just for lunch) and adhere to the traditional hierarchy, maybe we could restore some respect to the game. Fat kids are supposed to be emotionally challenged and desperate to make skinny friends, not be dykes who eat twinkies between video games and being pricks and eating the "fourth meal" fo the 3rd time. What happened to the power structure, youth of today? O.K., so sporting dicks are nothing new. What is new is the way the little bastards try to be all like adults. Can you imagine? Little bitch-ass kids trying to emmulate adults? I saw this one prick who was playing third base get moved to pitch out of an inning. When he hit the mound, motherfucker puts on glasses. Not perscription, not sunny-g's, those stupid fucking jock glasses that adult tools like that fat fucker, Eric Gagne wears. He is French-Canadien, go figure. They're not goggles, either. Kareem Abdul-Jabbar wore some motherfuckin' goggles, y'all! Nice fucking shop safety glasses, Bob Vila. And I'm all, fuck you, you little prick!
You weren't wearing them at third. Your parent (cuz let's face it, your mom went all cougar rampage on your dad after feeling 'liberated' from watching an episode of Desperate Housewives)
should be taken out behind the bullpen and shot.
Oh, that's right, if he wasn't there completely shitcanned off Natural Lights to threaten the coaches and yell at kids for striking out, nothing would get accomplished. God knows he wasn't there to bitch you out when you fucked up your line in your school's Spring production of Godspell. He was too busy at Hott Tamale's doing bumps off the stripper's asses in the champagne room to attend that function. Goy! It reminded me of those clowns in basketball who lick their fingers and swipe the bottom of their shoes. What the fuck does that do? And the next thing you know, kids at the rec center are licking their fingers and swiping the bottoms of their shoes! Then they start rockin' the leg sleeves and hexpads, whatever the fuck those are. I'm tired of this bullshit.
CBS is going ahead with a show called Kid Nation, where a bunch of little bitches are supposed to run a parent-free society for 40 days. Good luck, douche bags.
signed, anonymous

Best Day Evah!

2007-07-18T13:05:00.000-04:00

Sometimes you eat the bar, and sometimes, well, he eats you. Today I'm eating the bar, for today is the best day ever! When I awoke from an erotic dream that involved me and Scott Baio humping some couches on the set of Mork & Mindy, I realized that I did not have to report to Orson and, more importantly, I am not in any way related to Robin Williams or his knuckles, or rainbow suspenders. Advantage: me. Sidenote: What ever happened to wet dreams? Those used to be awesome and then grunge came around and then they were more out of style than quaaludes. Plus, how are you supposed to have a proper nocturnal emission when you know that the Melvins are probably playing Portland or a European festival or a European V.F.W. hall tonight (except in Europe they call them V.W. halls because they're the foreigners) There's an old sailor trick that man-types have used to 'last longer' in the sack. I know what you're thinking--the Baltimore chop--unfortunately, it takes skill to locate the ball correctly in that situation. It's called 'checking the runner,' which means: think about baseball when you're about to pull grape duty. That works O.K., assuming you aren't already charging the mound. I suggest that if you really want to impress her with your stamina, think about yourself at a Melvins show instead. And, if you want to really push the 3:00 minute mark, think about being in the Melvins' van.
Hey, got any ludes? What happened to the good drugs? Not that I do any, but what ever happened to all those great drugs? Remember Rush? No, not the Canadian, government-subsidized, progressive rock trio who wrote "Take Off", but the cleaning fluid stuff that you'd huff and turn bright red and black-out. God, that was an awesome fake drug. Say what you will about huffing cleaning fluid, at least it's not Oxford Blue Krylon out of a paper bag. I mean, if you're going to huff, go uptown. Skip Ace Hardware (they fucking card you now anyway) and bust some Damar varnish from Utrecht. Make sure you get the flat, not the high gloss--it can leave an embarassing lustre, trust me. The only card they'll ask you for is you ArtSmart card which might just get you a kick-ass discount or some art fag's digits cuz you're both down with Honoré Daumier or whatever. What about that designer drug, CAT (also known as 'Meth's Kitten') Remember that snowmobiler variation of that stuff that they made in the upper penninsula? It was so potent they had to cut it with cocaine to "take the edge off." What about Whip-its? I mean whipped cream charges. Holla! Anyway, back to my awesome day: I was at the gas station--a BP nonetheless (I feel so Benneton buying petrol from the Brits)--and I was fillin' 'er up and all of a sudden this lady steps out of her car and I was intantly transported to a ZZ Top video shoot. Not literally, dipshit. This lady gets out of her car and I'm certain I heard traffic screeching to a hault as well as a needle getting dragged across a record. She was probably 50, fake tits, spray tan, oversized sunglasses, fuck-me pumps, Botoxed, Asian and wearing a none-tighter Baby Phat dress. I have to give a shout out to my girl, Kimora. You my bitch. You could tell she was older because she had knee-back fat. Anyway, all of a sudden I start hearing catcalls and whistling. I turn around and there's three New Jersey construction workers from 1974 sitting on a girder making off-color hand gestures. Not really, but there were some construction workers who stopped what they were doing to check it out. And gas was only $3.07 a gallon! Whence I went in to pay, I once-overed my main lady just to, you know, what th fuck else are you gonna do when you're waiting in line at the gas station? Lighter humor just isn't what it used to be, so skip reading lighter comedy. She was borderline tranny but all that jibberjabber stopped once she spoke. How do you describe someone's voice when they sound like a nasally mix between Henry Kissinger, Chiaki Kuriyama, and Buckwild from Flavor of Love? I guess I just did. That was just the best! And when I got home, the new Pottery Barn catalogue had arrived! Score. The only problem I had with the day was noticing Walgreen's phantom architecture. Ever notice the fake atrium on the top of Walgreen's where the neon mortar and pestle is? It's covered in glass but serves no purpose. It doesn't let any light in. I think it should. But I'll save that for my shitty day tomorrow.

Where's The Cheese?

2007-07-14T17:02:00.000-04:00

Hey, who cut the beef? I love Wendy's. I was at the deli counter the other day picking out some turkey and cheese to make some sandwiches so I didn't have to go to Wendy's. Actually, now that I think about it, Wendy's blows. I think I'm mostly against how they prepare their hamburglers- they all start off as a big square of meat and depending on the type of sandwich you're about to stuff, they cut off edges of meat to fit buns of various size. Which seems like an inexact science, sort of like meteorology or pulling out- it's a judgement call. So make sure you get a meat forecast before you order your Junior Cheesburger Deluxe (and think you're all slick because you've solved the 99cent x-tra value riddle). Where they get you the worst though is the "chili." When they're 'edging the meat' (yes, there actually was a 1985 D.B. Sweeney movie with the same name) the cut portion gets tossed into a meat trough that contains the scattered remains and broken dreams of nameless, countless inches of meat and hot fat. When it's time to make chili, they just take all that scrapple, spit it into a tomato-based chili and serve it to people clever enough to order it. Anyway, getting back to the turkey and cheese at the deli--I decided to go with a half pound of Jarlsburg, because for a Norwegian peasant cheese it has a full aroma and a deft, nutty flavor that finishes slightly less clean than any of the Emmentals aged in sandstone caves deep below the Santenberg in the Canton of Lucerne. Alas, I was in no position to pull the trigger on a cheese that, despite it's economical $6.99/pound pricetag, would haunt me until I were able to get my hands on a pound of Emmentaler, or at the very least, some crystal meth-- or at very least, a cheese worthy of a bottle of Viognier! Hence, I decided to try something called Lorraine cheese, which is an American varietal of lacy 'Swiss' cheese. I think Hormel owns it. It has low sodium and uses low-fat milk. Know what else it uses? Suck. This is the suckiest cheese I've had since the cheese topping product that came with my Chef Boyardee pizza kit. Here's where my observational comedy bit starts:
"Good evening, folks! Alright! Toledo, Ohio! Woo! Hey, what's the deal with the Chef Boyardee pizza kit cheese? Have you seen this? You get enough dough to make two pizzas and a packet of parmesean cheese so small that it could easily get lost in my condom collection! Boo-ya! Seriously, though, imagine if that little packet got mixed up with your condom collection! Talk about cheese dick! Boo-ya! Talk about Chef Bo-ner-dee! You know, I've got a name for Chef Boyardee's cheese product packet.....Oh, yeah! Wait for it, Toledo, we're taping this show............BULL-SHEE-IT! Boo-ya! You got me riffin' Toledo!"
OK, it works better in the club. Sort of like ording written transcripts of the Donahue Show, you have to see that guy knock it out of the park on video or you just don't get the full impact. And in case you were wondering, I got the Boar's Head turkey. What, you think my shit isn't fitted to the floor?
Other newsworthy tidbits:
ANOTHER FAKE GIANT SQUID FOUND. I told you, but you refused to listen to me. I love the way the "elusive" giant squid of old seamen's tales decided that 2007 was a good year to start showing up. Now read that last sentence again using air quotes. Never mind that prior to 2006 they had about what 3 partial specimens and a polaroid of the alleged Krakin. For the last time, it's an effing hoax. Oh, yeah, the giant Tit Lobster is an totally elusive and caliginus "mystery of the deep" who's ways are far too unknown for scientists to find crap out about them. I think 2009/2010 should be strong for alleged video captures of the giant lobster with tits. Anybody ever seen Alien Autopsy?

Seven Wonders of the World

2007-07-08T16:48:00.000-04:00

In what appears to be a gigantic waste of time and resources, a group of Polocks decided to take internet votes to determine the new Seven Wonders of the (Ancient) World. Firstofly, here's a reminder of the old Seven Wonders and why they qualified:
1. The Great Pyramid of Giza- This is a big bitch. The structure consists of approximately 2 million blocks of stone, each weighing more than two tons. It's strange powers come from ancient sorcery, not Satan, like the pyramid at the Louvre. People have always been "what the fuck?" about it. However, a whole new generation of wireless telephone customers with texting capabilities are totally "WTF?" about the Great Pyramid. The Great Pyramid is also the home of the Mummy, King Tut, and Brendan Fraser's career. Popularity of the Great Pyramid apexed in 1973 when progressive stoners posted their kick-ass pyramid posters (which came with the gatefold double LP of Pink Floyd's 1973 progressive rock masterpiece, Dark Side of The Moon), and did hot knives with some knock-out hashish from Morrocco in their basements kitted-out with black lights and some Gonesh Nag Champa, only to come to the hevy revelation that like WE live on the dark side of the moon, man. And in conclusion, the Great pyramid is really, really, really cool.
2. The Hanging Gardens of Babylon - Were popular in Medieval times-- regained popularity in 1982 when the Cure released "The Hanging Garden" off the Pornography album. This resurgent boost of the Gardens' popularity was contingent upon Robert Smith having not yet rocked the unlaced, exo-tongued, oversized Reebok tennis shoes. Lost popularity in the late 80's when the Gardens served as home court to the Boston Celtics and Robert Smith started wearing oversized sweaters and said tennis shoes.
3. The Statue of Zeus at Olympus- The blueprint for the statue of Jordan At The United Center (Between S Damen Avenue and S Wood Street, Chicago IL), except like 146 times larger. It should also be noted that the Zeus statue was created entirely without LeRoy Neiman influence.
4. The Temple of Artemis at Euphesis- What the fuck? You know what I say, the only temple that is awesomer is the Temple Of The Dog.
5. The Colossus of Rhodes- What about the Fender of Rhodes? The Colossus of Rhodes is like the 52oz. X-treme Gulp Mug of Colossuses. I actually looked it up on 7-Eleven.com, the Super Big Gulp is only 44 oz. So, that's a differential of approximately six ounces- which might not seem like a lot, but what if it was your weed? What exactly is a Colossus, anyway? This particular colossus is a gigantic statue of a greek man straddling an oceanic inlet. Stories tell of Greek Shipping Vessels slowing down between his legs to "tap the sack" for good luck- sort of like when Notre Dame football players hit the "Play Like A Champion Today" sign outside their locker room, yet somehow even gayer. You just summed up your entire sorry career here in one sentence! If you had a tenth of the heart of Ruettiger, you'd have made All-American by now!
6. The Mausoleum At Halicarnassus- Hands down, my favorite Echo & The Bunnymen song. Remember that one scene in Phantasm 2 (Manyak II in Turkish) when that creeped-out tall man got the chrome sphere can-opener jammed in his noggin and then it drills his head and a bunch of embalming fluid starts flying out all over the floor of the mausoleum n' shit? I miss James LeGros. Where is that little dickens? I love that guy. Quick, what's the name of the actor who played the tall man? No! It was Angus Scrimm.
7. The Lighthouse of Alexandria- people who are into ducks and Northern Michigan resort time-sharing are totally into this shit. Jeff Daniels would have voted for this. It's a 500 foot-tall lighthouse made of marble that had a reflecting mirror that shone its light over 150 miles. It's no Mystery Spot, but then again what is? Like I said, Jeff Daniels.

So, a pretty impressive showing from the ancient world. Enter our polocks and a computer and a bunch of people who were bored with porn, blogging, or myspace and voila! Here are your 2007 NEW SEVEN WONDERS OF THE WORLD:
1. Great Wall of China- I could go for this if it were the Great Wall of Chinese Food!
2. Petra (Jordan) I'm not really into Christian rock, but what the hell? Stryper broke up.
3. Christ the Redeemer Statue (Brazil)- Has appeared alongside David Caruso in an opening sequence of CSI: Miami.
4. Machu Picchu - I voted for Magglio Ordonez
5. Chichen Itza- Finally a pasta dish made it. I was afraid the whole low-carb thing might get it booted.
6. Colosseum- I think this one made it because Gladiator and 300 were both popular gladiator movies. You ever watch gladiator movies? The best they could do for the Great Pyramid was The Mummy II and National Treasure.
7. Taj Mahal (India) what-ever.
**8. Great Pyramid- honorary candidate. Here, Egypt, here's your participant ribbon. Thanks for your entry, unfortunately, your contributions to mankind suck. Good luck next time with that.

Pass The Ketchup (Catsup)

2007-07-05T16:38:00.000-04:00

Holy Smokes! Time keeps on slipping into the future. Tick, tock, tick. Last time I checked, it was a sunny day in June. Then all of a sudden it's the 2nd day after the 4th of Indepenece Day of America. There has been a lot of shit flying around lately--aside from those Whistling Moon Travelers with Report your stoner uncle Don bought in Indiana after he made the trip to Elk Heart to get a new truck cabin--so instead of my usual long-winded diarreah of the keyboard, I'll try to compartmentalize some topical riff-raff in the standardized "blog" style. So suck it:
Dracula's Castle is For Sale. Yep. Not really Dracula's castle, though. Bran Castle, located in the creeped-out town of Pennsylvania, is situated in the always foggy Carpathian Mountain range of Romania (where it always smells like Saxon Peasantry and you can't go very far without being reminded that Nadia Comaneci scored a perfect 10, seven times, in the Montreal Olympics in 1976. However, most Romanians refuse to recognize her susequent marriage to US gynastics star Bart Conner, insisting Conner is a "major pole-smoker"). Now read that last sentence again and use quote-unquote before you say major pole-smoker. Your friend, D, doesn't come with the castle. As a matter of fact, some skeptics doubt that Dracula ever even existed n' shit. What kind of bullshit backwards thinking is that? Ooh, I'm a skeptic! Stuff doesn't exist! Oooh, I'm incredulous and a dick about it while i'm at it! Skeptics need to stop it. Or else the Wolfman, the Mummy, and the Creature from the Black Lagoon and Alec Baldwin and me are gonna put y'all in a boat and have a "rogue wave" or "giant squid" straighten your asses out. Anyway, it's really expensive, so you probably won't buy it. However, it does come with some unique amenities:
1. Tonic Junior in the catacombs. Those who thought that Russian hockey star Sergei Fedorov was the only one to have a bar in his basement replicated to the exact specifications of Tonic nightclub in fabulous downtown Pontiac, MI, think again. It even comes with a doorman nicknamed 'Botox', who by all accounts, is a total dick.
2. 8x10 framed glossy portrait of George Hamilton.
3. Hounds of Hell dogrun area.
4. Custom Carpathian bats. OK, they're paper mache. But done well.
5. Autographed VHS copy of Dracula:Dead and Loving It (Steven Weber) A must-have for fans of the 1990-'97 NBC situational comedy, Wings. But then again, aren't we all? Does that even make sense?
6. Ramparts. That's right, ramparts! I don't know about you, but it seems tits to own something with ramparts. Just think how jealous your asshole friends (who only have ditches) will be!

Shit. that's all that's happened in the last 2 weeks. I'm working on something promising about The Office and their secret Skull & Bones society or some shit. So.....uh....
I'm also working on a list of annoying typos: 1. teh instead of the.....short list so far.

No Shit, Shylock

2007-06-20T11:31:00.000-04:00

The Stratford festival is upon thee, Yorick! Seize thine johnson and Tivo thine Star Trek! Ok, for those of you who may not be familiar with the Stratford festival, it's a summertime Shakespeare festival in Ontario, Canada where people do a bunch of plays and shit for some reason. Atendees usually range from bespectacled thespian- types--who wear patches on the elbows of their corduroy blazers, carry around earmarked, pocket-sized editions of Sumarokov's Noviye Lavry (because Chekov is too pedestrian),and are consumed by locating the best Bed & Breakfast in the immediate vacinity-- to an agglomeration of dudes who look exactly like that creepy guy that works security at Target, acne-ridden high school students who tuck their t-shirts into their jeans and are "into" loafers, and medieveal roleplayers(which also include Trekkies, due to some unholy marriage of medieval and Klingon "cultures").

Ok, so it's basically a Medieval festival for big-titted people who have a hard time waiting a full year between stuffing gigantic turkey legs down their fat, bearded faces and quoting Monty Python movies in public (in full costume). It also allows the lowly Medieval enthusiast to log off the nerd sex chat room(that means you, Mansquito_69) and get out of Mother's basement, as Mother would not pleased with too much outsider whore influence. This year's festival organizers have added a few contemporary twists to Shakespeare, including a "street" adaptation of Othello:
From Act 3, Scene iii:
OTHELLO:
Cousin, be sure thou prove my love a ho,
Walk it out and peep this that word is bond;
Or, by the cash money of mine bitch-ass soul,
Y'all need to recognize, I ain't no "Investor Gadget," you know what I'm sayin',
Y'all hadst been better best have been born a dog,
Than answer to my motherfuckin' A.K., Holla!

Theater critic Trevon "Ol'Gold" Garvey panned the performance, as well as society's fascination with Shakesphere himself:
"That praises are without reason lavished on the dead, and that the honours due only to excellence are paid to antiquity, is a complaint likely to be always continued by those, who, being able to add nothing to truth, hope for eminence from the heresies of paradox, motherfuckers."

The festival will also feature a hip, contemporary version of MacBeth directed by christian youth pastor, Robbie L. Ranger.
excerpt:
Act 3, Scene i:
Cue: gigantic laser cross, stage: ctr/ smoke machine
Sign language traslator stage r
music: Renegade by Styx

SECOND SECULAR TEENAGER:

By the pricking of my thumbs,
Something wicked this way comes.
Open my locker, Cassie!

EnterSCOTT MACBETH

SCOTT MACBETH :
Hey guys, you secret, black, and midnight fornicators!
No! I don't want have pre-marital sex with you! I'm saving myself for my wedding night! Don't you want your first time to be special?

ALL:
A deed without a name...tee-hee.

SCOTT MACBETH:
I conjure you, by that which you profess,
Howe'er you come to know it, answer me, girls:
do you think we should like get together Friday night for a prayer sesh? I want to jam on some Matthew and Luke pronto!

CASSIE: I want to jam on some Luke and Owen myself! I'd totally take it tag-team style from Luke and the butterscotch stallion!

enter mimes

SCOTT MACBETH:
Though you untie heavy metal bands and let Ronnie James Dio fight
Against the churches; I'm kinda bummed that you guys aren't down with the "big man," you know, my #1 cool "dude"? J.C.! Jesus is thee coolest, girls! The first real "rock" star! Let's just study the bible and rid this pagan high school of blackened souls who need to get down with the king! My mom'll buy'st pizza and diet sodapop. Seriously! I want to get this done before vacation bible school! What do y'all say? C'mon, answer me! Even till cheerleader camp; answer me to what I ask you.

MIME 1:

FIRST UNBAPTIZED TEEN:
Speak. No wait, you're a mime. Walk into the wind!

CASSIE:
Demand.

SECOND SECULAR TEENAGER:
Where is the pizza coming from? Domino's?

exeunt mimes

Some of the festival's other highlights include people with tote bags, ponytails on men, and schoolbus drivers smoking cigarettes outside in the parking lot.

Editor's Note: This is fucking absurd. I need help.

Kathy Griffin Is In My Life Again........Yeah!

2007-06-19T11:44:00.000-04:00

For some reson Kathy Griffin is in my life again. I didn't ask for it, it just kinda happened. Sort of like jock itch. Kathy Griffin, for those of you who don't know, is a nuisance comedian. Much like the female Cottonwood (Populus freemontii) that sheds her milky-white seed and gets all up in your shit and air conditioner intake, coating your lawn with a blanket of white, pure as the driven snow. Not to mention the "free kindling" aspect of said tree pooping her twigs all over one's freshly-mown creeping bentgrass, invasive roots, as well as its softwood characteristics that all but e-vite(assuming internet conductivity) the Asian Longhorned Beetle to come bore a new crib for the Summy. And, just as any nuisance tree should be dealt with, someone's got to call the DNR (assuming that said complaintant is free of guilt from all of those years of fishing without a license). While your local authority may only refer you to a nearby arborist, tree whisperer, or chainsaw sculptor, taking the first step to ridding your life of problem trees and comediens is the hardest.
So, what is it exactly about Kathy Griffin that makes her a nuisance? It's not the fact that she actually won Celebrity Mole Hawaii, although I would have liked to see Stephen Baldwin or Corbin Bernsen walk away supreme champion (yeah, I know, but the "peoples' champion" doesn't get the quarter mill in cash and prizes). It's not the fact that she is always referred to as a comedienne. It's not even that she's not funny- there are plenty of unfunny comedians. It's not that she's a lesbian, in fact, lesbians are hilarious. Mostly it's because of her abhorent personality and abrasive voice. Can you imagine what that shit sounds like in the morning? Not that I've had "adult" fantasies about it, but what if you had to sleep with her with your dick? It would be like Charlton Heston waking you up and asking you to nibble on his titties. Wait, what? I just barfed myself out. Anyway, she's got this ghastly voice that would remind ancient Chileans of the Cherufe (a creature that lives in liquid magma known for its mineral-rich flatulents and appetite for virgin flesh-- not unlike German rock troupe, The Scorpions), it should also be noted that Cherufe should not be confused with the Spanish term, Churros(a deep-fried dough pastry often served with chocolate or cinnamon)--it should also be noted that Churros are not elephant ears(a fried-dough pastry cousin of the Churro that belongs in the USDA's carnival food food group section of the food pyramid). Kathy Griffin's got some sort of
trenchmouthed (what up 90's Chicago indie rock band with Fred Armisen on drums used as an adjective?!) deviated septum attached to a foghorn (or possibly Foghat)for a voice. Not only is Kathy Griffin's voice annoying, but the fact that I can never remember if her last name is Griffin or Griffith is equally vexing. That's like one of the most annoying last names ever invented. Griffin. Andy Griffin. Griffith. Griffith Dunne. D.W. Griffith. Professor Griff. Melanie Griffith. Quick, if you were being attacked by a mythological creature that's a cross between a lion and an eagle and a black militant/rapper in charge of the Security of the First World what would you call it? That's right, Professor Griffin. So, as you can see, there are all sorts of reasons to hate Kathy Griffin. So somebody decided to give her a show about her pathetic career(The D-List) and lo and behold, she has a fucking career again. How VH1 of you. Just stop it. I know it's a Bravo show, but everyone's owned by the same crappy company. I miss you Eric Estrada. Also, she looks turdy with those cheap-ass Rembrandt veneers and nosejob. I could keep going. Dare me?

Wooderson Voted Most Hottest Bachelor

2007-06-15T12:35:00.000-04:00

Mc Attick
In an event that can only be described as McConaughanian in scope, Matthew McConaughey- you try spelling it- was voted People magazines' Hottest Bachelor 2007. Now, I'm no pro, but like, really? Everytime I saw him in the pictures this year, he's been shirtless, short-armed, overtanned, and hobo. McConaughey is becoming an archetype unto himself. He's that guy who works out all the time, wears bandanas, meditates, and cleans up real nice for a little romantic comedy or just gets arrested for marijuana possession after being found playing the bongos naked in his home. I mean how many people like that do we all know? Types. It makes sense, seeing how McConaghey is a sun sign, Scorpio. Scorpio's are usually just like Robert Scorpio from General Hospital- but like when he was chasing Luke and Laura to find the rare and elusive Ice Princess diamond, not like the end when they had all that monkey virus bullshit after Scorpio was presumed dead from a boat explosion. Although his birth time is unknown, we know he has his Moon in Virgo. And thank God we know that much. When asked what he thought of the award, McCognauhey replied " Say man, you got a joint?" The Associated Press replied "no,not on me man..." prompting McConaughey to state: "It'd be a lot cooler if you did." All of this noteriety stems from McConaughey's landslide 2005 "Sexiest Man Alive" victory that made Patrick Dempsey, Viggo Mortensen, and Vince Vaughn look like total pieces of shit. But what makes this handsome award-winner such a hot crotch? "My favorite thing to do alone is jam in my truck and drive," a revealing answer from the down-to-earth outdoorsy gay. But McConaughey understands that his chiseled physique has as much to do with his award-winning bachelorism as his southern hobo charm does. When asked what makes his abs so much more fucking awesome than ass-friend Jake Gyllenhaal's, McConaughey is quick to reply: "Let me tell you what Melba Toast is packin' right here, alright. We got 411 Positrac outback, 750 double pumper Edelbrock intakes, bored over 30, 11 to 1 pop-up pistons, turbo-jet 390 horsepower. We're talkin' some fuckin' muscle." I'm just fuckin' around, I love McConaughey and his short-armed jams. Plus, did you know that Matthew McConaghey's brother's name is Rooster? Fuckin' A.

Top 5 McConaughey Jams
1. Reign Of Fire
2. We Are Marshall
3. How to Lose A Guy In 10 Days
4. The Newton Boys
5. Dazed And Confused

Top 3 McConaughey Girlfriends
1. Penelope Cruz
2. Jake Gyllenhaal
3. Kate Hudson

Can't Get You Out Of My Head

2007-06-14T12:10:00.000-04:00

I was just writing "hell" and "boobless" on my calculator and just thought about how annoying some songs are. The reason I thought this was between laughs, when I was comptrolling whatever it is you call it when you use letters as numbers- My initial thought was alphanumerics, but then soon realized I couldn't convey (in the letters Aleph, Yod and Qof, or the primal, infinite energy of the Universe) "boobies," alas, it has something to do with decoding an ancient Hebrew alphabet(thanks a lot, Madonna), I was humming a treacherous tune. On one of my last posts, some anonymous replied to my list of summer jams with the 1970 effort, In The Summertime by Mungo Jerry. First-of-ly, thanks for the submission. As you can tell by the other comments, I'm a popular. In high school I was voted most likely to "blog." Second-of-ly, you totally made/ruined my day by writing a song title that ruined my day when I realized I was whistling the melody to that bewitching effort. So it got me to thinking- what are some other songs that annoyingly stick in your head-- hooks so achingly god-awfully horrendous, so wonderfully atrocious, the mere title of the song will stick the melody in your dumb head for a good spell? While most titles seem to be from the 70's, there are a few others form susequent decades that'll do the job. Oh, and a lot of songs will stick in your head if you hear them enough, but these are the more offensive ones.
1. What A Fool Believes - The Doobie Brothers. He came from somewhere back in her long ago. Often mistaken for early Michael Mcdonald, this Doob's number will have you playing brain synthesizer and wondering if the guy who is singing is black, or what?!
2.Raindrops keep falling on My Head- B.J. Thomas. You can hum the whole song if you try. Couple that with a questionable montage of bicycle riding in Butch Cassidy & The Sundance kid, and you've got bonafide shitty.
3.Baker Street- Gerry Rafferty. velvety sax, a couple bottles of Champale. Duh.
4.Southern Nights- Glen Campbell I think we all have a love/hate affair with Glen. This is definitely on the hate side of things.
5.Seasons In The Sun- Terry Jacks This one's chorus sticks in your head more than the melody per se. However, both are criminal. Unless you're Johnny Krautner...then everything makes perfect sense.
6.I Can't Wait- Nu Shooz. I swear to God.
7. She Drives Me Crazy- Fine Young Cannibals. I know, right? Why the shit are these turds even all up in my brain. Look, some people go to fight Cholera in 1925, like a conservative doctor and a restless society girl, who marry hastily and relocate to Hong Kong. There they betray each other easily, and find an unexpected chance at redemption and happiness while on a deadly journey into the heart of ancient China. Other people Netflix The Painted Veil, listen to Fine Young Cannibals, and blog to nobody.
8. Axel F.- Harrold Faultermeyer
Rockit- Herbie Hancock
19- Paul Hardcastle
Rock Me Amedeus- Falco
One Night In Bangkok- Murray Head - what kind of city is it?
Puttin' On The Ritz- Taco - Super duper.
I believe that these are all installments of one gigantic sucky song that gets stuck in your head.
9.How Bizzare- OMC what?
10. Baja Men - Who Let The Dogs Out? Did I stutter?
There's a million more but I'm bored of this.

Summer Cold, Fire Bad!

2007-06-13T12:50:00.000-04:00

Wait. Let me hit this bottle of generic Robitussin and release some of this sinus pressure- it's called Tussin...without Robi...is that legal? There. Now I'm feeling smooth, like a WJLB jam. There are few more annoying things than a June cold. Just when the Summy hits and the sun is making everything hott and the summer jams are just kickin', ladies are outside bikini-car washing the the hell out of Corvettes in slow motion, 1980's poster artists are fucking airbrushing pictures of them...God, I love Summer. So there I am, thinkin' about skinnydipping and croquet and I get an itchy sensation in the back of my throat. 3 days after and I'm blowing phosphorescent snot out of my nose, feeling like Nick Nolte. I should have taken the day off work, but instead I went to spite the sick children that gave me the illness in the first place. I hope it's not TB. Anyway, could there be a worse feeling than being sick when it's 85 rock n' roll-over degrees and sunny? I feel like the kid who had to practice the piano in that comercial but without a reel-to-reel to fake anybody out with. I'm stuck playing the piano. The piano made with a bunch of crusty snot rags, cough drop wrappers, OK magazines, and empty tussin bottles. Ok, so maybe it's not exactly a piano. But fuckin'-A, they've made some strides with sugar-free cough drops, eh? they're delicious and all mentholated, plus they taste like regular ones and don't make you a rude, thoughtless little pig.
As I said, it started with a itch in the back of the throat and commenced to making the respitory tour to my nose. All great colds are like the Harlem Globetrotters- they keep on wowing us with their adaptability and flair for the game. But also, they tour around the globe. And if your head is a globe and the cold is Meadowlark Lemon, I think I paint a pretty convincing metaphor. So I'm waiting for my nose cold to become my chest cold- can't wait. My nose is already over this bullshit- it's all chapped and raw from non-aloe induced tissues and emergency road-dog napkins. One nostril's sinus is completely clogged while the other nosehole just drips annoyingly onto memorandums and my life's work. The pharmaceutical companies are making a killing off of me! When's the last time you check out the cold remedies at CVS? It's like the '85-'86 Boston Celtics, where I'm Kevin McHale and you're Larry Bird and everbody else is Bill Walton and we find ourselves facing the Rockets in the NBA Finals. Despite Houston's "Twin Towers," Hakeem Olajuwon and Ralph Sampson, Boston took the series in six games. Ok, maybe the sports metaphors aren't working. C'mon!
I'm on Tussin, bitches! Which reminds me, at 7-11, Kleenex brand tissues are $2.39 for a small "upright floral" box. Each box contains 85 3-Ply White Tissues 8.4 x 8.4 in (21.3 x 21.3 cm). That means, if my math is right, that each tissue is worth approximately $.0281176 (I hate aggregates)thereby making Kleenex the most expensive paper by volume next only to blotter acid. Which reminds me that being sick is like Justin Verlander pitching a no-hitter last night at Comerica Park.....

Summertime City Bitch

2007-06-11T21:33:00.000-04:00

Awww shit! Summertime's up in this bitch. Get the sunblock, get the notary public! Set the Tivo for Hell's Kitchen! Shit's official. What can i say about the summertime? It's a love/heat affair....sorry. Anyway, Summertime has had quite a tawdry affair with rock and roll and I was just thinking to myself, "self, there are good summertime jammers and bad summertime efforts." I believe it was the fist time that I referred to songs as 'efforts.' There are obvious good ones- Summertime Blues, for example. There are bad ones, Summertime Girls by Y&T, and then there are the inadvertent Summertime jams, like Peaches by the Stranglers. Of course, there are also songs that remind you of certain Summers even if the song is about snowmobiling. I don't have a particular snowmobiling song in mind, but you can smell what the Rock is cooking. So just for shits, I thought I'd compile a list of my favorite, least favorite, and inadvertent Summertime jams- I'm also including non-rock songs for lower bias.
THE GOOD
1. SUMMERTIME BLUES- Eddie Cochran and/or Blue Cheer and/or the Who and/or T.Rex and/or Joan Jett and/or the Flaming Lips and/or your mama. It's safe to say that this is the alpha song of the summer. If you put this song in the ring with King Leonidas and Maximus, it would be way gay. But also this song's cuisine would reign supreme. The only thing I don't like about this song is that Cedar Pointe amusement park used this song in an ad in the 80's and I associated the song with overpriced admission, sun stroke, 2-hour waits in line, diarreah, and vomitting on some poor kid in a Hawiian shirt, wayfarers, and parachute pants on the Gravitron. OK, maybe that kid was actually me. It was quite astouding how the centrifugal force manage to suspend the stranger's vomit against my face and upper chest until the ride slowed down and dumb fucking gravity totally harshed my parachute pants. I guess that's why they call it the blues.
2.SUMMERTIME-Ricky Nelson
Often overlooked in the canon of summertime music, this little dickens is actually a cute little musical buddy that celebrates the season to the utmost.
3. SUMMER SUN BLUES- the Go
The Go have a cornucopia of summer-themed tunes including but not limited to Summer Sun Blues, Summer Gonna Be My Girl, Summer At The Gym, The Pharaoh's Beach, Meet Me At The Movies, and Pool Water.
4. Summer Nights- John Travolta
Tell me more, tell me more.
5. Catalina- The Descendents
Sure, you can take your boat out to Catalina during other seasons when you're in Southern California, but I'm projecting, damn it.
5. Sunny Afternoon- The Kinks
6. Summer Madness- Kool & the Gang
Oh, what's that? You didn't think I was gonna get all fusion on your ass?
7. HEATWAVE- Martha & the Vandellas
This one's not really about summer....or is it?! I was torn between putting this in this catagory or the inadvertent one.
8. SUMMER WINE- Nancy & Lee
9. HOT IN HERRE- Nelly
10. Rock Lobster- B-52's
11. Hot Fun In The Summertime- Sly & The Family Stone
12. Here Comes The Summer- Undertones
Sure, Feargal Sharkey always wore a turtleneck, but put on either Undertones records(yes, I know. Positive Touch was their mulligan) and you'll freak out and want to play badminton.
13. Too Hot- The Specials
14. Rockaway Beach- The Ramones
15. Surfin' Bird- The Trashmen/Ramones/Cramps

THE BAD
1. Summertime- Jamie Foxx
Not to state the obvious, but Jamie Foxx is. The R&B set really are ghastly lyric writers. Exhibit A: Summertime lyrics by Jamie Foxx Early in the mornin', around this time of year
I like to sit around the pool and get my chill on, yes I do
Well sippin' on a glass 'o wine, or my favorite kind of beer
When I'm feelin' oh so right, you know that you can't go wrong
Exhibit B: The Zoo by R. Kelly
It's like a jungle atmosphere
And we're two monkeys baby
It's like we're on a vine
The way we're swinging it baby
See, you're a tiger girl
The way you're scratching me
I'm a lion
In this jungle I'm a king
Girl, I got you so wet
It's like a rain forest
Like Jurassic Park
Except I'm your sex-a-saurus baby
You and me hopping
Like two kangaroos
Rattling and moaning
Out here in these woods
I SHIT YOU NOT.
2. Summer Breeze- Seals & Croft
3. THE HEAT IS ON- Don Henley
4. Margaritaville/Cheeseburger In Paradise- Jimmy Buffet. Both these songs make you feel old and white and bored and poisoned. Includes the sensation of being on the Gravitron.
5. Summer In The City- Lovin' Spoonful
I hate this fucking song.

THE QUEEN
WALK DON'T RUN- The Ventures
PEACHES- The Stranglers
SHOTGUN- Junior walker & the all-stars
DEAD MAN'S CURVE- Jan & Dean

Got any "efforts" to add to these lists? Send me your suggestions, or text my ass and I'll compile the answers and think about them for like a second and then not do anything with them.

New Balance Fades

2007-06-08T12:19:00.000-04:00

Whenever I hear the word culture, I reach for my revolver. Hanns Johst, Schlageter, act 1 scene 1

Ok, I'm offically offended. Insulted, even. I'm mortified! Put 'em up, put 'em up! No, it's not that I used a pretentious block quote that i got from a unsubstantiated internet source to kick things off...No, it's not Paris Hilton again- I'm totally over that dude. Someone--and you shall remain nameless, Dylan Adair-- has designed a Joy Division sneaker for New Balance. The shoe uses the imagery from the Peter Saville's iconic Unknown Pleasures cover art. I don't even know where to begin with this information. I guess we could dismantal commodity culture, but then we might get accused of being into that shitty Consolidated band, or worse, into social studies. Remember those kids in school that were into social studies? They looked and dressed all stage crew except they knew who Ayn Rand was, could pronounce her name correctly, and were aware of other cultures. Anyway, this particular bullshit bothers me much more than other bands being used to sell crap. I don't know why exactly-- believe me, there are plenty of other atrocity exhibitions concerning cross-market lifestyle segmentations adapted to exploit target demographic subsets associated with niche culture and perceived brand equity (on net unduplicated audiences). Hot Topic( a NASDAQ publicly traded corporation) exists for God's sake! The Ramones and the Misfits are popular brands. I've seen unspeakable horrors: Motorhead onesies, Misfits panties, Slayer moccasins, Negative Approach umbrellas, Velvet Underground jogging suits. ok, i made that last one up. My point is this- Joy Division were an incredible and important band. New Balance are a great shoe company--especially in Europe, because all great shoes are only available in Europe. it's like some sort of fucked-up shoes club that you aren't invited to join because you live in America and you blow. That's fine, Europe, you keep your awesome shoes, and we'll keep the personal watercraft. Think about that the next time you want go jet-skiing. Getting back to Joy Division- Joy Division's mythos and gravitas are more akin to a great body of literature than a pair of trainers (that's what they call shoes in England and Luxembourg). I'm imagining what Dickens might have thought about his Tale Of Two Cities Adidas. Now I'm imagining what Charles Dickens would look like naked. It's a fun little parlor game- imagining what famous authors look like naked.
And if you really ever want to take Geoffery Chaucer, Dante Alighieri, Albert Camus, or Fyodore Dostoevsky down a notch, picture them taking a dump between penning chapters- one world, one love, bro. Wait, so what the fuck was i talking about? oh, right, shoes. The "trainers" in question are, in their own right, not too shabby. The understated design is nice-looking, and to use an even better descriptive adjective, good. So i don't have a problem with the aesthetic qualities of the product. However, the only design i have seen depicts white shoes, which can be problematic. If you're totally not into "getting your Jordan's scuffed," you might not totally be into the white- plus you can only wear them between Memorial Day and Labor Day, which sucks for those melencholic walks you like to take in the Fall. Ultimately, it's up to the wearer if this product seems like a good idea or not. Who the fuck is going to buy these shoes? Get the Dickens Adidas.

FIRE IN THE SKY

2007-06-07T11:59:00.000-04:00

Over 1,680 heshers showed up on a field to simultaneously rock Deep Purple's Smoke On The Water to set a new World record. While the intent to set the World's Record for most guitars playing the same song was admirable, the unitentional World's Records set during the performance may be an even bigger story.

5 other World Records set during Smoke On The Water sesh:

1. Single Largest Blatent Disregard For The Rest of Deep Purple's Catalog, including much better and way fucking heavy songs like Spacetruckin', Maybe I'm A Leo, Living Wreck, Speed King, and Highway Star.
2. Longest (Non-Metallica Related) Tuning Session.
3. Largest Gathering of Guitar Center Employees Outside of New Jersey.
4. Largest Congregation of Heshers "Totally Fucked-Up" At A Non-Pink Floyd Laser Light Show Event.
5. Single Largest Concentration of Guys Who Look Like Mike Shank.
6. Longest Song Start Delay Due To Awesome Fucking Battle Solos.** Still Under Review
The other part of the story that they forgot to tell you is that they plugged all the guitars into a single Peavey practice amp. And to answer your question, yes. They did strategically place the amplifier against wood paneling to authenically duplicate the exact way it sounds in the participant's parents' basements.

PARIS HILTON IS SICK. NO SHIT.
So, like Paris Hilton has some "medical condition" that is allowing her to be on house arrest instead of getting butched-in and bull-dagged in the pokey. Wow, that took all of about 3 days before her lawyers figured out a way to keep that fat bitch from getting her salad tossed. Since when can you get out of jail free just because you have the VD? Pardon me, I meant "an undisclosed medical condition?" This sucks. I'm totally bummed out by the legal system. Motherfuckers be actin' like ain't such a thing as Stare Decisis! Makes me wanna bust it all Jerry Spence-style, grow my silver locks long, get a fringe leather jacket, kick some Southwest flava and just get all Damnum Absque Injuria and have ourselves a little Dies Irae!

Blood Makes Noise

2007-06-05T11:53:00.000-04:00

Suzanne Vega was right. My name is Luka. Listen, that's what I've been doing a lot of lately, listening. Dig this big crux- I don't need an iPod these days. I have my catalog on my computer, which in turn is connected to my stereo, which in turn, is connected to loudspeakers throughout the crib, which can bypass with a go/no go switch straight into a biomorphic input jack on my skull, dudes. It was several months after figuring out that I could jack my computer to my stereo and skip the middle-man for deep discounts. I wish I knew you didn't really need an iPod as long as you had iTunes on deck. I know what you're saying- the iPod is convenient and portable. Well, I dont port it to my car cuz I dint wanna spend 80.00 on a transmitter, plus AM is much better for your car. Secondly, just what I need: something else in my car to worry about getting jacked. Ok, so the solution is to get a portable speaker/docking station so you can take your thing somewhere away from your speakers and jam. OK. Uh....the garage? Unlikely, because if you live in Detroit, you're gonna have a hard time setting up because of all the garage rockers and their full-clevelands and vintage musical equipment all up in your carport and shit. However, if you're patient enough, those pesky garage rockers will grow tired of the negativity in Detroit and move to Nashville. Nashville is the new Seattle! So anyway, the other problem with the iPod is that everybody including my dad has one. So if there is a situation that calls for jams, everybody brings they iPods and then it's a cluster cuz then you have to fight over whose iPod is going to be used- and even if you figured that one out, it's blowy because you've already shared all your fucking files with your dumb friends and they have the same catalogue you do minus the embarassing stuff you didn't want anybody to know you listen to in the first place. What do you do? And another thing is that when you busy trying to be on the cutting edge of technology, you bought one of the early iPods and it seems like it's about the size of a VHS tape at this point- plus it doesn't even have video so you can watch whatever the fuck on a really tiny screen or whatever. What do people watch on iPods anyway? Episodes of Ned & Stacey? So there you are with your dumb obsolete iPod. Little heads up- don't buy one of the first iPhones. Wait. Cuz by Christmas next year they'll have a better model...with a laser pointer. Let's rock!
Recent downloads:
Lip Gloss- Lil' Mama
When it's, time for lunch, my lips still rock
Lil' Mama melon with da hot pink top
Cherry, vanilla, flavors is a virture
Dey, lovin! Lip gloss universal
The boys really like it, the girls don't speak
They - rollin they eyes, they lip gloss cheap
It ain't my fault, but I could up-graaade ya
Show you how to use nice things with nice flaaaavas

Some people toil and sweat over lyrics, others are just blessed. Best single of the year- hands down.

Train For Tomorrow- Electric Prunes
It's not the best song ever by not the best band ever, but I marvel at the queer production of this tune. It's so drenched with reverb and atmosphere it hardly has an unmuffled sound save the clap/snare. And just when you think you're safe, there's a jazz interlude worthy of Jim Morrison's mellowtop and/or Chris McInnis' mellow foundations. But seriously, have you ever wondered why the fuck you'd call your band the Electric Prunes? Maybe Electric Dildos was taken. I can understand the electric part- it make a lot of words seem awesomer, but prunes? Why not apricots or raisins or dates or figs?

Single I tried to sell back to iTunes: Peter Bjorn and John- Young Folks. I might like this song again in about 2 years, but right now it's running dangerously close to Hey Ya! territory.

mtv movie awards recap modotti

2007-06-04T12:16:00.000-04:00

Some bands have the tendency to overthink they song titles and commence to making them sound all cool or whatever the fuck. As I have previously discussed, the Fall and Pavement win the spirit award for creative song titling. Fugazi gets the participant ribbon but doesn't quite place in this competition. I love me some Fugz, but Fugazi have the problem of naming their songs with dictionaried words and words that sound referenced, but ultimately end up contributing to the unlikeable pomposity of their entire essence. Let me illustrate:
Here's a top 10 list of Fugazi song titles that sound like they tried too hard:
1. Smallpox Champion
2. Ex-Spectator
3. Recap Modotti
4. Caustic Acrostic
5. Forensic Scene
6. Walken's Syndrome
7. Cassavetes
8. Facet Squared
9. Long Distance Runner
10. Sieve-fisted Find
Ok, so that's the protracted endeavor of Fugazi's pretense. It should be noted that this is over an almost 20-year span-- some bands like At The Drive-In have managed to have 10 pretentious sounding titles in one album (Arcarsenal, Mannequin Republic, One Armed Scissors, Enfilade, Non-Zero Possibilty, etc. all from Relationship Of Command). While some sweet-assed rock critic from Spin might use the terms intelligent or cereberal to describe these bands and their titles, I'll give you a few fake titles in about a tithe of a second that'll make me sound all cerebral...
Top 5 Fake At The Drive-In or Fugazi song titles
1. Reduction Militia
2. Intimidation Precept
3. Signal To Aviator*
4. Incandescent/Fluorescent
5. Fitzcarraldo Ornament
*Suitable for an emo band name. Or, actually, any of these will work if you just add a dangling modifier to them.
I'm emo'd out. Let's talk turkey....MTV turkey!
Last night was the MTV Movie Awards as seen on cable or satellite television station MTV. MTV was a television station that played promotional music videos starting in 1982. They later went on to do specialty programming that all but eliminated actual music videos from their repertoire. Now a days, you're more likely to see college kids playing with feces and throwing up on each other than actual videos. But the hipster geniuses at MTV have perpetuated a movie awards show that is pretty much the highlight of their programming year. Last night was no exception. Highlight reel:
1. Sarah Silverman hosts. I just about crapped my pants and fed it to my housemate(MTV Real World style)when Sarah Silverman made the Paris Hilton joke about painting the prison bars like penises so she would feel more comfortable- after a priceless reaction shot of Paris, Silverman continued to say something to the effect of why should I feel dirty after saying that? Which was great because you almost felt bad for Paris Hilton, but then realized that she's a sucky rich bitch celebrity who does nothing but humiliate people on her tv show and get dry-jammed by every VD-infected tool she comes across, so PARIS CAN SUCK IT. Also, Sarah Silverman's a hottie...she's like Jonathan Silverman but with awesome tits. C'mon, we've all had that Caddyshack II fantasy, right broughams?
2. Jack Nicholson's rambling speech that made no fucking sense. Plus, what's the deal with his voice? Does he have emphyzema or something? It sounded like he drank a gallon of vitaman D milk and gargled some large-curd cottage cheese before he spake. He also might have been out to sea without Shirley McLaine or Merryl Streep there to get his inside jokes.
3.Amy Winehouse. Super.
4.Bruce Willis slurring his way through a casual shirt that my girlfriend's dad would wear.
5.Robin Williams did this fantastic bit of comedy where he said some words with a convivial Mexican/of Latin origin accent. I mean he just killed! Like I thought Dane Cook was the shit-hot comedian of the night, but then out of nowhere, Robin Williams had me floored- practically barfing over his masterful comedy schtick. Imagine Robin just freestyling with a Mexican accent...in a kilt. Hilarious!
6. Spoof! I did it again! A bunch of losers spent a bunch of money making spoofs of nominated(?) movies. Apparently, all you have to do is somehow work a Quentin Tarrentino film into your lame video productions class project(mine was a bad-dubbed kung-fu movie), kick the special effects generator and write a bunch of embarrasingly bad jokes. I really was embarrassed for humanity when I was watching Little Miss Squirtgun(??) Fuck you for fucking up the bell curve, you're all losers.
7. Tivo crammed the entire show all into a concise 1:30:00. Back to Man Vs. Wild!!!
I'M OUT.

Special Investigative Report: Spring Break '07

2007-04-06T10:31:00.000-04:00

Spring Break is a rite of passage for many young people, and in my case, creepy 30-something year old dudes just tryin' to catch a buzz and some rays, bro. Wanna oil my back? Spring break started in 1914 when some students from Barndump Finishing School For Morons & the Touched left early for Easter Weekend due to an outbreak of Tuberculosis, Grocer's Itch, Bad blood, Bronze John, Dropsy, Fits, Milk Leg, Rising Of The Lights, or some other kick-fucking-ass old-timey-name disease. On the way home, there was a moronic revolt when the driver of the bus wouldn't pull over at a gas station so that Robert "Boo" Cadbury could get his pet accountant some racoon jerky. Boo hijacked the bus, bushwacked the driver, ransacked the storage compartment, and booglarized the toilet before driving the bus due south to Fort Lauderdale, Florida. Upon arrival, the students checked into a hotel, bought several dozen bottles of orange blossom perfume, ordered an inordinant of room service, put a barrel of beer in the wash tub, purchased several seashell necklaces, had permiscuous sex (with the room service food), got sunburned, heat-stroked, vomited, and wrote funny sayings on their passed-out friends with shaving lather, like 'hurrah hurrah for Yale!' (on a Harvard man). Spring break was born. A lot of shit isn't known about Spring Break until the 1950's- mostly just sordid anecdotes about something called 'petting' and Spring Breakers having a 'gay old time.' The 50's ushered in the modern era of Spring Break as we know it- a time around the Easter holiday when awesome virgins go to alligator-infested Florida to throw-up and bang as many strangers as possible before getting crabs, blowing chunks, and ultimately coming to the realization that your tits really do look awesomer in a wet t-shirt. Of course, in the 1950's things were somewhat tamer- for instance, Sammy Hagar wasn't around. Also, teeny-boppers were at the sock-hops in their poodle skirts, making-out with greasers that had the 'Duck's Ass' hairstyle--leaving Spring Break to college-aged chicks and Soc.-es. Fuck. How did S.E. Hinton write the word 'soc.'? Socs? Socials. Who knows? However, I do know that Ponyboy's got a brother named Sodapop. Says so on his birth certificate. In the next installation: Spring Break in the 1960's through the 1980's, including, but not limited to: Panama Jack, Sex Wax, and partyballs. p.s.- don't ever google 'ponyboy' at work. Ever.

Houdini or Whodunnit or What?

2007-03-23T06:44:00.000-04:00

First it was the giant squid, then Daylight Savings time, now we got some internet researchers revising the tragical history of Harry Houdini the world's most awesomest magician...ever. The rivisionista, bear with me, have come up with some yarn about Houdini not dying because his appendix blew up after getting socked by Benedict Skimpole, a poorboy by trade, who's infamy would deny him entre to the colorful business of professional pugilism (they got to fight kangaroos, orangutans, and shanghai'ed Malaysian sailors back then) and any future consideration for lucrative "tobacco card" appearances. To that, we say herumph! But by Job, we have to deal with it, old man! In the truthful story's stead, it is being suggested that Houdini may have died from an injection of some mystery serum given to him shortly before his death at Detroit's Grace Hospital. After Houdini died on Halloween, 1926, doctors listed "periodontia of the appendixial innard" as the cause of death--without benefit of a proper autopsy, which undoubtedly upset some black metal fans. Although, the Swedish black metal outfit, Holmstrom, did eventually get to release a track called Houdini's Autopsy on their 1996 release, Enter the Ice Crypt.

Insiders claim sales of that particular record were weak due to the name of the band being too hard to read and "all pointy," while others suggest it was due to fans feeling betrayed when bandmembers killed and ate their drummer's brain between encores in Oslo. While the artistic license of Swedish black metal bands provided a fantastical realm to entertain the idea of an autopsy on Houdini, in real life the H-dog never got one and was wisked away to buried in world-famous New York. So, the question that all this poses is, "who is responsible for the quackery that lead to the untimely death of awesome Harry Houdini?" All fingers and Ouija, the mystifying oracle(TM), planchettes point to the SPIRITUALISTS!!!
I know, it's totally like WTF! Who are the Spiritualists? Well, according to reliable internet sources, the Spiritualists were a group of fucking losers who couldn't figure out how to play Dungeons And Dragons, so they just collected the lead figures and Monster Manuals, while one of their members' dad was a welder and built a huge welded metal box to store all of his son's character sheets and multi-sided dice. Wait, that was my society. Poor old Victor, what nerd-penance you must have suffered, carrying that 24-pound pointy metal box on the crossbar of your P.K. Ripper en route to not playing that game anywhere near correctly. Sorry. Anyway, the Spiritualists were so lame they couldn't even become magicians...sort of like an Elk's Lodge filled with a bunch of David Blaines, except they didn't slow-talk. They claimed that mediums could contact the dead or whatever, while charging people a bunch of cash for it. Houdini played his BULLSHIT! card on the Spiritualists by debunking them and making them look downright foolish, according to reports. Houdini might also have been killed by one Margery Crandon, a well-known medium (sometimes large, depending on the brand) and owner of the secret recipe for the "Most Delicious Blue Huckleberry Tea Biscuits Known to Society." Houdini had been investigating the disappearance of some young boys named Matthew and Gunnar, she had adopted. All of it adds up to something you might see on CSI: Miami, CSI, Bones, Cold Case Files, The Ghost Whisperer, Raines, Medium, Haunting Evidence, Ghost Hunters, Most Haunted, Psych, or JAG. I think we all need to whip out our BULLSHIT! cards. Don't get me started!

Music Makes Me Lose Control.

2007-03-18T10:08:00.000-04:00

Look out. I'm completely out of control. I've been listening to a lot of cult jams lately. oh, not familiar with the cult jam? A cult jam is any jam or joint that has been influenced, hereto been influenced, or forthwith influenced by said influencee (band or musical group) by virtue of being 1. somehow touched by the hand of one of the founding members of Full Force 2. being of the genre of US dance hits on the billboard HOT 100 ('84-'89) And i know what you're saying...I can smell what the Rock is cooking. How many bands could possibly be influnced by Lisa Lisa and Cult Jam Featuring Full Force? But you first might want to think about what a headache their lawyers had when they were trying to divy up the money between Lisa Lisa, Cult Jam, and Full Force back in 1986- WHO THE FUCK IS GONNA TELL FULL FORCE THEY DID IT ON SPEC? Not me motherfucker! Then again, in 1986, the high-powered lawyers at CBS were doing so much coke they could have ripped the head off of a small bull, got a blowjob from Robert Downey, Jr., bought several Keith Haring paintings and signed Erasure to a 3-album deal all before brunch. But the bulk of these cult jams actually comes from the second qualifier- US DANCE HITS BETWEEN 1984 and 1989- and here's just a smattering of the delicious artists who inhabit this magical place:

1. Rick Astley
2. S'Express
3.Daryl Hall & John Oates
4.Wang Chung
5.Billy Ocean
6.Paul Hardcastle
7.Nu Shooz
8.Timex Social Club
9.Bananarama
10.M/A/R/R/S
11.Bomb The Bass
12.Technotronic featuring Felly

So, there ya go- cult jams. Surprisingly enough, Kraftwerk had a big year in 1987 with Musique Non Stop and The Telephone Call both reaching the top spot during the same time Club Nouveau unleashed thier fury with a little jizam called LEAN ON ME. I decided that I would omit the obvious ones like Madonna and Snap! due to their ubiquity and overall good standing in the canon of popular dance music. IT'S GETTIN', IT'S GETTIN, IT'S GETTIN' KINDA HECTIC! But before you go patting yourself's ass about it, I'm afraid I have to come clean. You are an unwitting participant in a somewhat deceitful prank. Snap! didn't have a hit on the Billboard Hot 100 US Dance Chart until 1990, dumbshit. And if you look at my cult jam qualifiers(CJQ's) you would have noticed that I totally hoodwinked you because you're an idiot and thought SNAP's chart-topping heatseeker 'The Power' was released prior to 1990. Go home, gullible! Fucking A, that was a royal burn. Suck on that for a while and I'll see you next time, bitches.

top 5 downloaded jams this week:
1. What Can I Do? - Happy Supply (downloadable from they Myspace page)
2. Pierre McGuire and Darren Pang debate March 9, 2007 NHL Radio Faceoff
3.Young Folks- Peter Bjorn and John
4.Ain't it Strange- Dr. Dog
5.Conga Line- Starlite Desperation

Daylight Slayings Time

2007-03-12T18:53:00.000-04:00

Listen, i get enough flack in my daily life. if you want to leave a comment after you read my splendorous/slanderous dribble, go ahead- but please attempt to be a smart and not so much a complete dipshit about all it. Whilst my views might be construed as off-color, what with the Italians and such, keep in mind that i am writing with a Reiner/Brooks 1979-ish sensibility, where off-color Italian hand gestures and Burnadette Peters' awesome tits could coexist without wrath nor vexation. While many of you, the reader, are still trying to figure out if i'm serious about being a blogger, the answer is no. Blogging is for dicks. oh, well, gee, i'm such and such and i have a lot to say about stuff! I'm a latter-day Henry Rollins on Mini Thins declamating my speechification so that my thesaurus-induced boner might poke your mind grape! ( i have to give 30 Rock cred for mind grape). You may be wondering when i'm going to start taking responsibility for whatever... As Kevin Costner (Gardner Barnes) said so eloquently in the following exchange from the criminally overlooked 1985 motion picture, Fandango:
Philip: You are the most irresponsible person I have ever met.
Gardner: Well, somebody had to be.
That said, you might just want to go netflix Fandango, or borrow it from me cuz it's bonified. If you live out of state and want to borrow it, please wait four to six weeks for delivery.
Have y'all ever noticed how much stuff there is to talk about? I mean today alone I could talk about a pantload of things, including but not limited to: Metrotimes Blowout X, Richard Jeni, Coke v. Pepsi, Preppy diffusion, fucking gas prices, Jihad, new Daylight Savings time, my confusion about what's the new John Cusak movie about--the haunted hotel room (1408) or the murderous motel room with the south american cockroaches? Or was that Identity? OR, I MIGHT BE THINKING ABOUT A LUKE WILSON MOVIE. Wait,wha? How about the Riches or, more specifically, why is it so hard for Eddie Izzard to sound naturally non-anglo? It's sort of like Kenneth Branaugh in Dead Again with that brutal american accent. You know motherfucker should be full-court-pressin' some motherfucking Othello and shit. The attempt is so distracting it reminded me of Alan Rickman as Hans Greuber in Die Hard when he's pretending to be American who works for the Nakatomi Corp. and John McClane aint a fool about to get fooled by some British fool layin' out a German accent pretending to be an L.A. guy. But then, it's like oh, shit! Bob Hoskins is fucking British and I've got my arms in the air! And that somehow leaves Minnie Driver with a gigantic jaw and a southern accent- which is surprisingly not offensive when I'm watching tv with myself. I say the Riches makes it...but only if they get less Big Love and more Big Momma's House. But that's not even what I'm talking about here. The reason for writing my blog this evening is to discuss what the crap I'm jamming on these dayz. So without any more tangential ramblings, i'm going to bed.

Famous Oscars Throughout History

2007-02-22T19:22:00.000-05:00

In celebration of getting ready to jam the A-cads in my face this Sunday, I thought it might be pertinent to ground all the glitz with some motherfucking context, y'all. i mean you can only get so far when Nicole Kidman interviews Russell Crowe. I'll get to the 79th annual Academy Awards in a mizzle. Before that, i'd like to discuss some of the other famous Oscars embedded in our collective psyche. Wifout any further ado, here's some hot OSCAR-ON-OSCAR action:
1. Oscar- the movie. tagline: it's a comedy of criminal proportions! oy. Sylvester Stallone remake of an old movie not particularly worthy of revisting. Sort of like if Steven Segal decided to remake Paint Your Wagon. Stallone plays a stereotypical wop/guinea gangster- a stretch for the Italian Stallion, no doubt. Do I-talians really get upset when they get called Wop? Wop is a latin-language based term short for guapo, like in El Guapo, meaning Handsome. The Three Amigos is my fucking jam. What's the big f*ckin* deal? OK, sorry about the whoopty-shit derogatory names... I learned it from you, you dumb fucking daygo, Martin Scorsese! Not surprisingly, Marisa Tomei shows up and asks stallone about the positraction on his '64 Buick Skylark...the ruturn of Machio! Oh. Well, it might as well have been My Cousin Vinny. What are yoots? Chazz Palmentari is in it, so it's not a complete turd. And Don Ameche is in it too. And so is Joey Travolta. Why the fuck am I dissing on this chronic jam, when I could be watching it?! I'm totally re-queue-ing my netflix.
2. Oscar The Grouch. I HAVE NO FUCKING IDEA WHO THIS IS.
3. Oscar Mayer. Master of weiners, master of puppets. Definitely not related to John Mayer- although he is making one huge step for weenie kind, he's no groover.Oscar Mayer was the guy who came up with making little tubes of balogna. He knew eveyone in the world was totally into balogna, especially the spelling of it. So he took everyones fascination and paired it with something else everbody was totally into- hot dog buns. Hot dog buns at the time were actually manufactured for use with hamburger poles (never really took off). Through serindipity, sychronicity, dumb luck, or good old-fashioned mixed metaphor, someone's weiner ended up in someone's peanut butter. Have you ever seen hot balogna coming out of a pipe? It's one of those things that changes your outlook on life- I like to think of the time i saw it happen(at the Hygrade plant) as my Viet Nam. I knew after I saw that hot, creamy, khaki-colored tube being extruded from a pipe into a tube-sack, I was "in the shit" and could never go home again. I instantly envisioned myself getting off the bus in a wheelchair and an uruly mustache and making a speech to my brother: Sometimes I wish, I wish I'd - The first time I got hit, I was shot in the foot. I could have laid down, I mean - who gives a fuck now if I was a hero or not? I was paralyzed, castrated that day; why? It was all so - stupid! I'd have my dick and my balls now, and some days, Timmy - some days I think I'd give everything I believe in - everything I got, all my values, just to have my body back again, just to be whole again. But I'm not whole; I never will be, and that's - that's the way it is, isn't it? But then, i snap out of it and realize that that speech was from Born On The Fourth Of July, not an honest reaction from seeing balogna being made. The same pipe had creamy not-yet-firm hot dog meat shooting out of it like pla-dough fun factory...except it wasn't fun, and it smelled like smoked hams. Anyway, hot dogs are probably most famous for the title of Limp Bizkit's 1999 release, "Chocolate Starfish And the Hot Dog Flavored Water."

Oscar Mayer also created something called the weenie mobile- a hot dog in bun shaped car used for promotion, not your friend Ted's 1989 Ford Escort with a Baby On Board window cling, a decal of Calvin pissing on a Chevy logo, and approximately 12 bumper stickers that say shit like: "No Farting," "Shit Happens," "Vuarnet" "I See Dumb People," "Easy Does It," and "Journey." Here's to you, weenie man!
4. Oscar Madison. No, not the guy who married Dolly Madison, maker of delicious Zinger brand snack cakes/sponsor of every Charlie Brown Special on CBS. Rather, the one half of the Odd Couple portrayed by Jack Klugman.
5. Oscar De Larenta- a famous gay.
6. Oscar de la Hoya- an American pugilist known primarily for being fancy.
7. Oscar Wilde- An english writer known primarily for being fancy and quoted in Smiths' lyrics.
8. Oscar from the Office. Fancy as well.
9. Oscar from the Academy Awards. A goldish statue. Well, Marisa Tomei and Roberto Benigni won them, so whatevs.

Grammy and Grampy

2007-02-17T17:03:00.000-05:00

Sorry about the wait. i've been busy transcribing the dialogue from Top Design in hopes that one day I might use them in a Mametian adaptation for an off-off-off broadway production of the show. I think it'll fly if I can land William H. Macy to play Todd Oldham, and maybe Kevin Spacey as Jonathan Adler. Is anybody even feeling Todd Oldham on this one? First-of-ly, he looks awful and tan. Second-of-all-ly, he delivers his lines like he's reading Bridge To Terabithia to a classroom of little English-as-a-second-language children. Does anybody remeber if he was that bad on House Of Style? It didn't seem like it, but then again, the Real World didn't seem so bad at that time either. Thirdly, you're gonna have to give us a little more than "did you bring your needle and thread to make some basting stitches so the matress can get covered easier" if you wann be the star of my show, bitch. Last-of-ly, what the fuck did these people turn in to get them on this show? I can see why Goil got in (Masters in Architecture from Yale), but how fucking hard is it to go shopping at Pacific Design Center and make a room look tits? It's sort of like going to Pinconning if you hade to make an awesome castle out of cheese. They should have an elimination challenge to knock half those fuckers out and replace them with the judge's panel. Kelly Wearstler talks an awful lot of smack for someone who's major contibution to interior design was placing stacks of large art books on even larger coffee tables. I'm just kidding. I don't think she came up with that one, but someone did, so let's just give it to her! She might actually be responsible for the large pillow abuse of 1997. She's an interior designer in L.A. You know how easy it is to be an interior designer in L.A. with those resources? Fuck. That's like being a casting director in Hollywood, or a leader of an impotent gay men's choir in San Francisco.... not hard! You don't even want to know how long it took me to come up with that zinger. All i have to say is thank god for Jonathan Adler. Unlike other judges with "tact," Adler can't even stop himself from rolling his eyes and making grimaces when he looks at the finished rooms. I'm eagerly waiting for him to make the finger-down-the-throat upchuck gesture the next time someone uses lime green with aubergine accents. Plus, "See you later, decorator" is the best kick-off catch phrase since Gordon Ramsey's (Hell's Kitchen), "fuck you all." Don't get me started! I was supposed to talk about the Grammy awards. As you all know, the Grammys were last weekend, and did they ever go over like a fart in church. I'm all for diversity in categories, but what the fuck? Is it necessary to give a grammy out to Best Video Shoot Catering(Non-Craft Services: Hard Rock)? I also love the way they give out the posthumous awards to dead people for credibility because they fucked up when they were around and didn't give them a Grammy then. I mean, who didn't barf when they stuck poor ol' Bob Wills with Don Fucking Henley and had, gasp, Carrie Underwood and Rascal Flatts perform a mash-up medley? I filled up two buckets and a 20-0z. Diet Mountain Dew bottle with my own vommy! Or how about the Police reunion? How can you fuck up Roxanne? Add a jazzy interlude and let Sting rock a flat top, that's how! I suppose it was so they could showcase their new adult contemporary sensibilites-- I mean what master of tantric sex wouldn't want to extend his orgasm for a few moments more? Never trust a white band that borrows freely from fortuneless reggae sources and adds flanged guitar, is what i sez. And the winners are.......Justin Timberlake. JT rocked the joint twice and once it was with the competition winner, who sounded as good as Beyonce, thereby giving B a major wedge. John Mayer- managed to duely impress everone when he went all theater-crew-in-high-school and wore tennis shoes with a tuxedo. That made me think of one word- a word the was a contender to be the name of The Wild Bunch when they were forced to change their name to the Electric Six- "Fuxedo." Well, good 'ol puddin' face got to win an award and act fakely surprised when they called his name after his riveting performance (with the O face). At least he's got a hot lady....uh....Hey, how awesome was that unlikeable Dixie Chick and her poorly-executed speeches that made her sound like a dumb hillbilly? "Well, to quote the great `Simpsons': heh-heh." Royal fucking burn alert! Finally, someone please fucking shoot James Blunt. out.

Girls Gone Wild!

2007-01-27T12:22:00.000-05:00

i just realized that about 9 out of the last 10 images posted on my blog are dudes. Here's some for the ladies! Wooh!

Jamming On The One

2007-01-26T23:12:00.000-05:00

oi. it's been a while since i talked music cuz other pressings have taken presidence. I've been so into jams lately, it was like i thought tivo didn't exist for like 2 full hours or some crazy shit. Fathom it! I mean i didn't think that tivo didn't exist, i just didn't think about tivo within the goings-on of me listening to 30 second excerpts of songs on the computer and systematically deciding if they were worth a buck or if i should get involved with some file-sharing pyramid scheme on some off-shore russian website that needs some fucked-up plug-in to view Cyrillic fonts or whatever the fuck. I really need to cut down on postmodernism. This week has been full of exciting new releases to point your (and i mean mine) musical boner at. Mine Musical boner? Mine Musical Boner was, i believe, the name of the von Trapp Family's Austrian tour in 1965 ( it was reported that Rodgers & Hammerstein just about dunked an o-ring when they were told that Friedrich von Trapp would be replaced by Danny Bonaduce and that Captain von Trapp would be replaced by Ruben Kinkade). That reminds me of this pervo joke that the neo-Austrian pervy music teacher at my school told me about growing an extra inch on your dick...I think Shirley Jones had something to do with it. I don't really want to retell it because this is a family blog, and God and my friends and family and discriminating Cracked Magazine readers all could tell you that i am no Blanche Knott. But aparently, there is some bullshit von Trapp Family singing group that is currently touring. Master artist Thomas Kinkade (related) did the tour shirts and album artwork. Onto the hits!

The Good, The Bad, And The Queen- Herculean
Whenever classic literature or history guys or NPR refer to Hercules, I always think of Eddie Murphy, nay, Golden Globe Winner Eddie Murphy, dressed up like a fat lady clapping his hands saying "Hercules, Hercules, Hercules!" at the dinner table. And i just want to thank him for that. Because before that, I had Bill Murray in my head. Don't get me wrong, I love Bill Murray's out-of-shape Hercules, it's just that our image of Hercules is ever-evolving--Kevin Sorbo, Lou Farigno, and that super-creepy Austrian kid bodybuilder in Little Hercules with Hulk Hogan are all great examples of whatever the fuck i'm talking about. This band is one of those vanity bands that is comprised of a bunch of dudes from a bunch of bands and they get together and do crap and record it and make a bunch of money and don't know what to do with it. Some people call them supergroups, however, superlatives rarely belong with such groups. I may have stole that line from a Gene Shallot movie review. Let's see....Damon Albarn from Bluh and Gorillaz, Simon tong from the Verve, Paul Simonon from the Clash, Afrobeat star Tony Allen on drums, and produced by Dangermouse. Sounds good right? Well, come on, play along with me. Sounds like endless possibilities! Ok, it ends up sounding like a Damon Albarn solo record. Why the fuck get Tony Allen to drum? Who the fuck is tony Allen anyway? Half of the album's songs have drum machine on them. Simon Tong's guitar sounds like that one guy from that one band's brother's band who's opening for a Sting tribute band tonight. Paul motherfuckin' Simonon! Urgh! I like this album enough, but it really seems like a poor use of some pedigreed resources. Did i mention that this track was a give away on itunes?
The Shins- Wincing The Night Away
The Shins f-ing rule the school! However, not worth the 3 year wait between records. This one's a grower, not a shower. I opted for buying the hott traxx off the internets but Target had it for 10 bucks. And I pretty much let Target dictate my taste and lifestyle. There's only 11 songs, and one of those is like 1 minutes long. The Shins don't do a lot of publicity- and if you see them, you might start to wonder if it's cool to be into the Shins, or like, creepy. And when you do see them, do yourself a favor and avoid getting into a conversation about records. Or, as some girlfriends of ex-record store employees know, just smile, nod, and tell them that the Velvet Underground are your favorite band ever. Convo ova! Bail!
The Grass Roots- Feelings
Awwwwwwwwwww, Hey! it's me. feel. I love finding hidden gems. I was just checking out some Grass Roots and started kickin' this jammer all the way! The melody is tight, but the Stones-like xylophone sounds like the first few notes of Under My Thumb and totally makes this jammy a resident of the hott zone. If you haven't done it yet, pick out one of your fave jams from an oldies radio station and research/30-sec. preev the albums. Major fucking scores abound. It's sort of like looking for Bobby Fischer, it's there....it's seven moves ahead, but it's there.
Gene Pitney- Something's Gotten Hold Of My Heart
I was listening to my copy of Kicking Against The Pricks by Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds trying to figure out who did what song originally. I knew the obvious traditional ones that any number of artists have covered previously, I knew the Glenn Campbell, Leonard Cohen, Elvis, VU, Roy Orbison, etc. but Something's gotten Hold of My Heart was one I'd never heard of. It was a total fuck me! So I searched it out and found out it was Gene Pitney's version that had a hit. Who the fuck is Gene Pitney? I know who Gene Pitney is, but I mean who is Gene Pitney? Gene Pitney: Asshole? or Gene Pitney: Genius? As it turns out, Gene Pitney: Guy who has one stupid song I like. Thanks a lot, Gene Pitney.
Thanks for supporting my need to waste even more of my life on a computer.

What's So Golden about Globes, Anyway?

2007-01-16T17:47:00.000-05:00

Last night marked the 64th annual Golden Globes award presentation show live from the Beverly Hilton, in beautiful downtown Beverly Hills, California-home of the stars! Now read that again as Charles Nelson Reilly might. Last night also marked the 64th time that a lame joke on balls was made at the Golden Globes (I believe that Burt Reynolds was responsible for 9 of them). And if you listen carefully with your heart of hearts, you can still hear the ghost of Dom Deloise laughing and getting slapped and laughing even harder and getting slapped even harder and laughing even more until he gets a mustache whisker yanked, echoing in the hallowed halls of the Stanley R. Plochman Memorial Celebrity Convention Room A-4. For those of you not familiar with the Globes, it's the award show that gives awards out to TV people as well as actual actors. Oh, snap! He said actual actors. Of coure I'm kidding- TV is awesomer. Case in point: Alec Baldwin. Anyway, the awards were long-winded as usual with some decent hijinx and some really lame shit as well. I'm gonna break it down.
It should (t'should in the Queen's English) be duely noted that the "Hollywood Foreign Press" is actually an offshore junket of Hollywood villains, including, but not limited to: Sumner Redstone, Bob and Harvey Weinstein, Brian Grazer, various CAA power brokers, Leslie Siebert, and Steven Cojocaru, who formulate the winners using black magic and loads of cocaine once a year and and get Cojo to read selections from his book, Red Carpet Diaries: Confessions of a Glamour Boy, just before they all fuck each other over.
Highlights:
1. Forest Whitaker winning best actor. Of course he should have won for his portrayal of Jefferson in Fast Times At Ridgemont High....better late than never. I wonder if Tom Hanks said to himself, "run, Forest, run?" when he was walking up to the podium. Better yet, I wonder if John Travolta said "You're out of your skullbone, Ker!"
2. Ben Stiller being completely unfunny around Sacha Baron Cohen, and no, i'm not talking about A Night At The Museum.
3. Jack Nicholson
4. Prince looking like Yule Brinner In Westworld...but like with hair. Nice tan, bitch!
5. Alec Baldwin
6. Helen Mirren addressing the Hollywood elite as if they knew anything about the way Queen Elizabeth might make a speech. I once had a fantasy about Helen Mirren, except she was addressing me as Sir Francis Bacon...if he were a nude British classically-trained Shakespherean actor...only in the fantasy, her Francis Bacon couldn't come to terms with Helen Mirren referring to herself as a "Shakespherian" actress between scenes. It was hot. But not as hot as Helen's exposed boob-side when she launched up the stairs!
7. Desperate Housewives won nothing.
8. Issac Mizrahi feeling-up the fat guy from Lost. Just a fantasy. Buthted!
9. Merryl Streep winning an award for the Devil Wears Prada and complaining about the inability to see the arty movies because of uncultured movie theater managers. Excuse me, bitch, you're the one who signed on to do The Fucking Devil Wears Prada. Shutty.
10. Hugh Grant's bumbling-Englishman's hair. It almost stuttered on its own.
11. Will Smith:0 Eddie Murphy:1
Lowlights:

1. Ugly Betty isn't actually ugly. Guess we can't relate to her anymore. I give her 'til April before she has an eating disorder.
2.Terrance Howard- looked dashing, if not nerdy....could have stolen the show if he just said "push that shit out," or "whoop that trick" once. Just once, motherfucker! Is that too much to ask? Of couse it's irrelevant, but imagine Tag Team not saying whoomp! there it is when you ran into them at Burger King.
3. Botox. I think even Brad Pitt gets it (not just on his balls anymore).
4. Warren Beatty trying to do Borat in the middle of the longest, ramblingest, most uncharismatic speech since Al Pacino's.
5. Jake Gyllenhaal and Heath Ledger blowing each other for no apparent reason.
6. Jeremy Piven was invited. What the fuck? Why can't we go?

83 Rock 'n' Roll over degrees

2007-01-08T18:10:00.000-05:00

On my way home today, I was listening to "Youth Gone Wild" by Skid Row on WRIF. The disc-jockey, Big Daddy Arthur Penhallow, was jamming some late-afternoon requests, for your ride home. After Sebastian Bach got done shredding that monster jam, the poobah-nator got on the microphone and said: "youth gone wild!....for any age...... think about it." And I thought to myself, that's some radio fever shit.

2007 F'N A

2007-01-03T17:07:00.000-05:00

Alright, before y'all dis my nuts, I realize that the last blog wasn't the grip. As a matter of fact, my summary of the year that was was downright abysmal. I mean really, have you ever written something that you thought was pretty clever and then went back to read it realized that you were a sped? Flip me! Already 2007 is imposing its awesome will and is proving to be even more bananas than last year. Unfortunately, they went ahead and executed Saddam Hussein back in o-six. Apparently, they were scheduled to do it in conjunction with Dick Clark's Rockin' New Year's Eve, but when Shiite leaders realized that Ryan Seacrest would be in Dick Clark's stead, they opted for bumping the ex-dictator's execution to 2006. " We were all like, Dick Clark out? Fuuuuck that! The only way we're dropping Saddam for the new year is if we get Carson Daly and Meatloaf to perform on Dick Clark's Rocking New Year's Eve," Justice Ministry aide Sami al-Askari said. After intense negotiations, Dick Clark Productions managed to land rotund rocker Meatlof, but failed to entice Carson Daly. Daly's camp contends he was already contractually bound to host the hipper, more youth-oriented, New Year's Eve With Carson Daly- featuring Panic At The Disco, OKGO, Fire At The Taco Bell, and 20-something trendsetters with their fingers on the pulse of cool: Tommy Lee and Dave Navarro. " Bullshit! Son of a cock Carson Daly! Carson Daly is no-show! Carson Daly is dead to our people. May he languish in his late evening manorexic hell! Let's do this, bitch," al-Askari said minutes before bumping the Hussein execution to 2006. 2007 has already seen Steve Yzerman's #19 sweater retired to the cerulean blue rafters of the Joe Louis Arena, Donal Logue's new sitcom premeired, Kellogg's Cereal City cereal-themed amusement complex closed its doors, The final episode of The O.C. is slated for this year, Whitney Houston is auctioning off her underwear (that's sooo hot!), Betty finally fucking got kicked off Top Chef, and an impending comet catastrophe is scheduled for February! 2007. Fucking A.

2006, A YEAR !

2006-12-27T13:56:00.000-05:00

Well, it's that time of the year to reflect on the goings-on of what has gone on this year and try to make some dumb sense of all the flotsam. While the whole concept of doing a year review is a bit played out- everyone does it, but do it good? they? Case in point- Martha Stewart's list included her recipe for "Doily-Wrapped Hamptons Cafe Dunkers," which taste exactly like her Chesepeake Morning Breakfast Squares recipe from 2001! Martha, my dear, fool me once shame on you... a fooled man can't get fooled again. And let's not forget Wine Fancier's unacceptable #2 wine this year: Clos La Chance 2003 Buff Bellied Zinfandel Central Coast (issued 2006). What were you thinking?! This overrated Zin from California lacks the white pepper push that the 2004 Buce De Ratone Dasher Zinfendel had in motherfucking spades. And the last time I checked, black cherry undertones are about as en vogue as Ug boots on hott Hollywood bitches named Misha. It's as if there never was a Joseph Swan 1997 Sonoma Valley Stellwagen Vineyard Zinfandel ever produced! Hey Wine Fancier- save that varietal bullshit for some sorry-ass Napa Valley corksniffers who give a dang. I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's break it down.

Movies: Hot 7 2006
1. Lady in the Water- Citizen Kane, The Birth Of A Nation, 2001: A Space Odessey, Casablanca, and An Occurance At Owl Creek Bridge had better make some room on Prof Scorsese's Introduction to Film course syllabus for Lady In The Water. People will be talking about the plot twist at the end of this motherfucker for years. Surprise twist? The only thing I was surprised about was that they only charged $9.00 to see this bitch! I would have gladly paid $14.50 to slather on some of that Shyamalan.
2. Apocolypto- Say what you will about Mel Gibson being a drunken jew-hater and self-proclaimed owner of Malibu, the dude can roll tape! Motherfuckers are all like hmmm, let's do another bullshit Civil War, Bible epic, or Western movie. Mel's all, nah. Let's get Mayan on their asses. Cue the fucking jaguars! Cue the fucking awesomeness (in subtitles).3. Miami Vice. Murphy/Nolte, Glover/Gibson, Tucker/Chan, Crystal/Hines, Foxx/Ferrell. While Foxx/Ferrell were striving for Travolta/Cage box office magic, they had to settle for...well, Jackson/Cage box office magic. Good for them! Good boys! Who's a good boy?! You're a good boy!
4. Dreamgirls- it's like Ray but without Jamie Foxx. Oh. O.K. it's like Ray. Beyonce is in it, right? Ooooh, she got a fat ass! My only criticism is there should have been more cameos by those white guys who were in That Thing You Do! Big ups to Danny Glover for reprising his classic "i'm gettin' too old for this shit!" line.
5. The Fast And The Furious: Tokyo Drift. Tokyo Drift isn't a real term. They just made it up to sound cool. As a matter of fact, there are a few sequels coming out in 2007 that use the same subtitle: One Flew Over The Cookoo's Nest 2: Tokyo Drift and Ordinary People 2: Tokyo Drift. Folks at Ordinary People 2 are banking on extreme sports enthusiasts and "gamers" to bolster the sequal to the 1980 drama about a teenager living in the aftermath of the death of his brother and trying to overcome grief and misplaced guilt to the extent of a suicide attempt.6. Poseidon. Hands down, the best ending scene to a movie since Basilisk: The Serpent King. Well, maybe that's a stretch. How a bout the ending to Deep Blue Sea. Let's see if i can sum this up in three points: 1. Richard Dreyfuss plays a gay. 2. Jacinda from The Real World. 3. The black guy dies first. Shocker. 7. We Are Marshall. A McConaughey sports jam. Need I say more?

Moreover, it should be noted that 2006 was a triumphant year in cinema. if this list doesn't impress you, just wait for the academy awards.
Top 5 music songs 2006
I only listen to music that they use in commercials and television.
1. Double Vision- Foreigner for Burger King
2. I Walk The Line- Megan Wyler for Levi's
3. I Turn My Camera On- Spoon for Jaguar
4. Some Kinda Wonderful- Grand Funk Railroad for Kraft Mayo
5.Brighter Discontent- The Submarines as lip sync'd by the cast of Nip/Tuck*
*possibly the most uncomfortable television moment this year. It's a good thing they "jumped the shark" in the first episode of season 2.

Top Television 2006
1. Flip This House
2. Nip/Tuck Season 4 excluding finale and Rosie O'Donnell porn.
3. Girls Next Door
4. 30 Rock
5. The Office
6. Project Runway
7. Top Chef
8. Rock Star Supernova

Science & Technology
1. Gigantic Fake Squid "caught"
2. Uranus
3. Scientists determine that newly discovered planet is actually made out of paper mache.
4. Apple fails to make last year's ipod obsolete.
5. Rap Mogul invents 36" rims
6. Blu-Ray technology ends up sucking
7. Independent study shows the term "Blogosphere" is gay.

Clebrities 'n' Shit 2006
1. Steve Irwin killed by gigantic squid
2. Britney Spears' thing
3. Paris Hilton's thing
4. Lindsay Lohan's thing
5. Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes get cold sores, wrassle with Matt Lauer, get married, and are only one audit away from losing embarrassing "Operator Thetan" title and acheiving "Chauffeur Thetan" titles.
6. Madonna rocks leotard, kidnaps African baby.
7. Diddy moisturizes his situation.
8. Lance Bass and Neil Patrick Harris turned gay.
9. Emmitt Smith wins Dancing With the Stars

In Memoriam

Ed Bradley
Peter Boyle
Steve Irwin
Chris Penn
Bruno Kirby
Jack Palance
Don Knotts
James Brown
Syd Barrett
Arthur Lee
Gordon Parks
Buck Owens
Wilson Pickett

Madonna On Pele

2006-11-30T11:52:00.000-05:00

Ok, so the title doesn't mean anything. Although it does have a Pavement-like irregularity to it. Flux=Rad, Date w/ IKEA, Jackals, False Grails: The Lonesome Era, and Internal K-dart, just to name a few. Of course, these titles themselves are a direct infraction/reflection of The Fall's Mark E. Smith's genius: Underground Medecin, WMC-Blob 59, Spectre Vs. Rector, Psykick Dancehall, Rowche Rumble, et al. The reason I thought of all this drivel was because I was watching Madonna on ABC television the other night. Actually, it was on Bravo also. I was feeling it all the way in simulcast. I don't know if that's the right term, but it's sort of like when you're watching Detroit sports teams on national network television- you almost always have to turn off the sound and put on your local radio so you don't have to listen to some L.A. schroeder crank it and cock-block Detroit from whoever Detroit is versus. Anyway, she was jamming ABC Television Special-style. Sort of like an after-school special, but rated: AWESOMER. I happened to catch her shredding Ray of Light, all leotarded out-- First Act guitar in hand( I don't think it was the Paul Westerberg model), Ok, it was a Gibson, but like a new Gibson, so it was probably made in the same butthole the First Acts are made. She was just cranking the jam, somehow confusing her bi-curious nature in a unassuming, aggresively timid/masculine posture, usually reservered for the chicks in Lenny Kravitz videos. Madonna is still jamming. I was watching that particular ABC Madocudonna concert event in simulcast and just fucking jamming, Cicconi style. I'm usually not totally into Madonna. Most of the time I just get pissed at what a fat piece of shit in a leotard she is. Let's see...there was the whole washer-ring wedding gown thing, that video where she's ramping up on a black saint and burning crosses and jamming, Shanghai Surprise, the Sex book (I was like, no shit? That's Big Daddy Kane! Then I was all, sick! That's fucking Vanilla Ice!) We've suffered through bottle blowjobs, pointy cone tits, Evita, Maverick records (thanks for Alanis Morrisette by the way), ancient mystic jewishism, the fake english accents, the clearly gay fake English husband, the haggotry of her and Rupert Everett (you remeber him, right? No, that's Rupert Holmes who did Escape(the pina colada song)), the African kidnapping, This used to be my playground (and just to clear things up, there is crying in baseball) again with the leotards, the unitards, the omnitards, and perhaps the most damning of them all, her tonguing Britney Spears at the MTV video awards (two words: her peas) I'm mostly just pissed about Shanghai Surprise. And the bull dance. Anyway, she was kickin' out Ray Of Light, just feelin' the flow, shredding some chords on her First Act guitar, and I thought to myself, just fucking jam on it, Madonna, you deserve it. You are an awesome....and a fucking fat piece of shit in a leotard MILF. I don't see why she couldn't become the biggest female pop star of her generation. Who's that girl? Madonna. Plus, she's like a lyrical genius. Take this:
La Isla Bonita
Last night I dreamt of San Pedro. Just like I'd never hung with D. Boon, I knew the song, bitch-tits. A young girl with eyes swollen from mosquito bites. It all seems like y'all need to get your shit lined-up and fucking step up to the mic., motherfuckers! And you can dance!
My spanish lullaby.

Suck on that.

Out.

I Jam Pro Bono

2006-11-10T12:30:00.000-05:00

Pro Bono is a Latin term that means for the public good, or some such dreck. It is not in reference to the support of one Paul David Hewson, AKA Bono, lead singer of the legendary rock band U2. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm OK with Bono- mostly because he's friends with The Edge, which is a place where I think we'd all like to be- friends with someone whose name is The Edge. As a matter of fact, anybody who's ever wanted to be anybody has yearned for at least one friend who is named after an inanimate object, or at the very least, has a nick name that actually sticks. Take Mike Seaver for example. On Growing Pains, he had a friend known as Boner. You too, may have a friend named Boner, but it has to be a person to count. Sha-Na-Na fans rejoice in the fond relationship they once had with a man named Bowser. By the way, if you ever do pose-dives to impress people when you jump into a pool or lake, the Bowser is still acceptable as long as you shout "oh, yeah..." in your deepest barritone before flexing your muscle and splashing down. It's stil considered a classic, right next to the Gene Simmons (spit cherry Kool-Aid before you hit the water), Evel Kenivel (air handle bars), King Tut (Steve Martin style), or Wok With Yan(make a delicious stir-fry mid-air). By the by, did Yan ever make anything aside from stir fry and hilarious aprons with clever wok-oriented jokes on them? Wok The Dog. Will Wok For Food. Wok Me Up Before You Go-Go. Everybody's Wok-ing For The Weekend. I know he went on to do some adventurous pan-Asian/fusion quisine on Yan Can Cook- like stir fry with pineapple. Laverne and Shirley had Squiggy. Dwayne and Rog had Rerun. But all of these examples are fake because these are characters on situational television comedies. Bono and The Edge are real people. My friend Kevin's nick name is The Hawk, but he gave himself that nickname, so it doesn't really count. See, here's where the gray area is- If you give yourself a nickname, you're kind of a rake. But if you give yourself a pseudonym or a nom de plume, you are at once, hot shit. Don't even get me started on AKA's in the rap game- you know all those fucking assholes gave themselves those names. Calvin Brodus is Snoop Dogg? 50 Cent is Martin Kelvin? Ice Cube is Oshea Jackson? At least Ghostface Killah's real birthname name is Ghostface Killah. I applaud rappers and entertainers coming up with dumb,fake names. Lately there has been a rash of regular-guy names dropping albums. Mike Jones? Chris Brown? David Banner? What the fuck? Who's next? Indiana Pacers forward-guard Ron Artest? Wait, what? Luckily, pop-culture references are catching up to a generation, and we now have kids being named after pop-stars (Britney,Lindsay,Paris,CarrotTop), Athletes (LeBron, Shaq-fu, Tiger), Actors (Charlize, Halle, Scarlett), Liquors (Midori, Alize, and Tequila are actual names of kids at my school). What ever happened to the classics (Beowulf, Elspeth, Benedict, Millicent, Winston, or Lucky)? Whilst we're on the topic, if you're going to name someone something, try to not do what these celebrity assholes have done:
Baby Name: Kal-el (Nicholas Cage), Apple (Gwyneth Paltrow), Banjo (Rachel Griffiths), Moses/ Lark Song/Phineas/Summer Song/Soon-Yi (Mia Farrow), Pilot Inspektor (Jason Lee).
What was my point? Oh, I Jam Pro Bono. It means I Jam for free. So let's fucking jam on it!
Here's some songs I've been listening to that you might want to get your mitts on.
Blanche- What This Town Needs
OK, so Alt-country has always been under suspicion. If you could take a moment to weed out the total shit bands that function under this header, you might end up with a shortlist of about 20 worthwhile endeavors- unfortunately, that moment that you took actually lasted 14 hours, and you will never get it back. Plus, I'm pretty sure that Kenny Chesney is considered Alt-country. It remains to be seen if his alternative status has had any impact on Jimmy Buffet being considered a Folksinger. Now, I might be a homer because Blanche live in my neighborhood,and my grandma's name was Blanche, but remember- I pay property taxes to live here.

Nancy Sinatra- Tonight You Belong To Me
I was listening to The Jerk when my girlfriend was watching it in the other room. I wish I could find the Steve Martin/Burnadette Peters ukelele version, but I love Nancy Sinatra. It's an amazing song that will get stuck in your head forever, and then you'll get pissed off at me for poinjting it out and that they don't write songs like that anymore. But after you wash the blood off your hands, dye your hair with shoe polish, and make a break for Mexico, you'll just start humming that fucker again, so don't do it.

The Flaming Lips- My entire The Flaming Lips collection.
Jackie Netflixed The Fearless Freaks movie and if you don't totally wanna jam your Lips records after seeing that fucker, there's something wrong with you. See it. Jam on it, freaks.

Closet Jock/Pantry Sporto

2006-10-08T20:49:00.000-04:00

Okay, if you didn't already know, I co-hosted a radio show called Radio Fever- it was on Saturdays from 8 to 11pm on FM WKRK in the Detroit. It was a tremendously vapid and ghastly show that started off with Chris Handyside and me playing local music and inviting our friends to come into the studio and dick around. We had fun at least twice and got to meet all the alive dudes from Detroit's 2nd gnarliest psychedelic/funk consort, Black Murda. You should pick up they album. We also had a bunch of our loser friends from Blanche, The Demolition Dollrods, The Paybacks, Whirlwind Heat, Esquire(The Boy Who Invented Rap), and Detroit City Council stop by. For a fortnight, it was the grip.
After the first year, Chris decided to leave the show so he could go dick around with his family or whatever instead. I asked Dave Buick to grab Chris' baton, or carry his torch, or his wiener for those people who have a hard time with euphemism. Dave stepped in and proved to be capable of dicking around even more than that dipshit Handyside. We dicked around for like another year and a half carefully honing the program into more of a "talk out your ass/play whatever the fuck you felt like playing situation because everybody knows local music shows fucking blow after 6 weeks. Check your local listings for a station with the ass/play format near you! By the way, ever notice how Diddy is always in situations? He needs to quit that situation. His impresario-Kanye-diva situation is going all Fonzworth Bentley on your ass, as such. Puffy need Nads or whatever the fuck to control his situation. Anyway, we got shitcanned via conference call last week by our dickslap boss, Craig. Craig was a corporate radio tool who thought he was hip cuz he could slang it up with you in any conversational situation by using the term "vibin'," as in "You guys could play the new Benson Brendan or whatever you're vibin' on." Ack. Ack. Ack. Anyway, he was a dickpunch for firing us via conference call. He should have sent an email card instead, just like you do when you forget someone's birthday. That would have had a much more personal touch to it. Joke's on him though, the station ranked #20 in the latest Arbitron ratings- his station was getting beat by smooth jazz, that fucked up station that plays Lisa Lisa And Cult Jam followed by Rush or whatever the fuck, and I even think that station that picks up the CBS affiliate television audio. Which is kinda sweet cuz you can totally fucking jam the dialogue from CSI: Miami when you're bumpin' in your whip and need a Caruso drop. Seriously, though, Caruso will make your day if you're stuck at Coolidge and 9 in the O.P. After two and a half years Craig finally remembered that he was actually paying us for dicking around on-air for our listener(s). Here's just a quick summation/highlight reel of the last two plus years of Radio Fever.
Cue: Foo Fighter's My Hero or Best Of You and read in slow motion.

Gary The Architecture-Smoking Hobo
Inuit stand-up comedian,Chief Eddie Hokum Pelt
Hot Cans!

Ok, so I thought that 2 1/2 years would have yielded some better reel(industry term), but not really, cuz like all we ever did was dick around and talk about TV and 70's littering and slow-walking between non-local music and smoke/beverage breaks. Early on, I said to Chris, "Chris, I says, we are going to run out of local music to play after about six shows, fucker." I was wrong. It took over 8 shows to run out of music to play. Then Chris dicked me over and Dave came in like gangbusters and "tapped the sack,"
if you will, in terms of interest in the show for about 2 months. Then it just kinda became a paycheck- but kinda a shitty one, cuz the radio gig was my second job and kinda pushed me into a different tax bracket and I owed money to the IRS for two years running--which is BULLSHIT!. But that radio show was biscuits and gravy and was totally my fucking car payment and motherfuckers act like its ok to conference call your ass into the ghost of radio's past prison to rot because you didn't call enough people gay or use enough Family Guy or South Park drops for your demographic. Motherfuckers need to NOTICE IT! I mean who else would take time to record clips from Decline of the Westen Civilization for comedy drops? Neil Hamburger? FM is going to sorely miss zipper schtick on every level. On a lighter note, I get my Saturday evenings back, so I can frequent the museums, dust my rare books, and challenge myself to a game of Master Mind.

Pajamas

2006-08-18T01:59:00.000-04:00

Oh, good heavens! it's been so long since I've written. Dearest Esther, will the snow ever cease? So, like after I got done looking at Vanity Fair- the Kate Moss issue- I said to myself: self, what's the fucking deal with Kate Moss? I'm sensitive to her status as a fashion icon, no doubt, but for fucksake,does everyfuckingbody have to use her weird/awesome face in their ads? What ever happened to 'ol Nitetrane Cocaine Kate (yeah, I know, models doing coke, jump back!)? She was giving Sigue Sigue Sputnik and Gary Busey a run for they money. I actually counted the number of pictures of Kate in the magazine, due to being almost insulted by her sinister ubiquity. The grand total was her face: 18 times, the world: 0. or thereabout. Some ads had her puss three times--triple threat!, Everybody else had her once. Yet none of them would have had her if Karl Lagerfeld hadn't campily waved his omniscient fan and bellowed his will upon the model agencies. Thankfully, VF gave us some doinged nips (albeit tastefully shot in black & white) to boot. Vanity Fair actually did yet another article on Kate and how she's still fabulous and she's popular and smart and pretty and people really like her! Fuck y'all. This marking VF's second cover story on Kate Moss in less than 10 months. God, Vanity Fair, why don't you just fucking make out with her already. The earlier cover story was about her being lost, coked-out and uncertain about her commercial viability. Amazing what a few months can do. Just seeing the block quotes in this article made me almost want to go back to the front of the magazine and actually read Dominick Dunne's column. Almost. Ok, maybe I'm being a little harsh on the guy. After all he did give the world Griffin Dunne....er, well Dominique Dunne....er, how about Dunneston Checks In?. Now, I know what you're saying: It's my fault for reading Vanity Fair in the first place. After all, the name of the magazine kind of says it all. But for some reason I'm compelled to read about the lives of the rich fuckers and good dressers. I actually enjoy reading about people who vacation in the Hamptons, take treasure baths, tie the perfect Windsor knot, laugh at jokes about Truman Capote and Henry Kissinger, smoke fancy cigarettes made from the finest antique Moroccan red burley, rolled in crisp fifty dollar bills and bundled with rarest whisp of Roman Polanski's hair--and vacation some more in Greenwich, Connecticut between high-powerd blow jobs, inviting Paris Hilton to crap, and Fashion Week. Man, I'm so fucking jealous! Maybe I should write about something else.
Musics
It's been a while, so here are some jammers I downloaded recently. And, yes, I do believe that in an ironic twist, downloading music using state of the art technology somehow makes you Low-Fi. So, go discuss.

Gordon Lightfoot- Bobby McGee
Yeah, I hate this song, too. However, where Bono and U2 failed to "take back" Helter Skelter from Charles Manson, Lightfoot pulls a major yoink and completely upsets the Joplin camp. Lightfoot wins the pennant! Lightfoot wins the pennant! The G-man at least makes it seem sincere, instead of some bad fodder for ensuing karaoke battles in the year 2006. If you were wondering, Gord's not gay. He simply switched pronouns to make Bobby a chick, which is like way hotter.

The Association- One Too Many Mornings
So, we all know Never My Love and Cherish. Did you know that the Association actually have a greatest hits album? Far out! They have like 10 songs on it.....no fucking way! This particular song isn't on said greatest hits record because the bad guys are always trying to keep them down--they dangerously flirt with a taint of rock and roll here. Sure, most of these guys either got into computer science or commited suicide in 1978 after they got divorced twice and ended up being satin-jacketed bingo drunks down at the local V.F.W., but back in the day, well, I'm gonna have to share this small snippet of an actual conversation between Peter Frampton and producer Curt Boettcher in 1980:
Frampton: "The Grass Roots?"
Boettcher: "Nah."
Frampton: " The Fifth Dimension....Wait. Grass Roots?"
Boettcher: "No!"
Frampton: "Pussy?"
Boettcher: "The Association."
Frampton: "Harper's Bizarre!"
Boettcher: "Ass-ociation, brother. Let's do another fucking gram of this shit!"
Need I say more?
The Gossip- Listen Up
I got this one free from the iTunes store. Whatever. It was free. Usually the free song from iTunes is some meritless bullshit from a bunch of dicks you've never heard of but are considered "hot" because some record company stooge blew the right rep. This time... it would be different! This time it would involve indie cred! Enter: The Gossip! Hey, I got a solid-gold idea- make some anemic disco music that sounds like a bunch of maladjusted indie assholes acting as if they could ever even have sex with someone outside of their band, let alone jam Rod Stewart's Da Ya Think I'm Sexy in the tour van without irony. When are people going to realize that Da Ya Think I'm Sexy? is the fucking jam? Accept it, roll with it, learn from it, and your own shit won't sound so fucking missionary. And please quit with the non sequitors- "1-2-3 take it from me"--come on. yr song blows. How's that for indie cred?

Steady Knobbin'

2006-06-01T14:36:00.000-04:00

First, let me apologize to the 14 unique visitors I've had hit the blog in the last months and some change- you make me wanna put on some R. Kelly. Sure, most "successful" blogs get 22 hits every 1/2 hour, but I'm all " fuck it!"- I'll take my rag-tag team of 14 ne'er-do-well losers over your over-priced all-star nightcrawlers- you're in it for the money, not the science. Any day of the week, anywhere we play, sold out. I'd also like to apologize for the delay between posts. Not that anybody gives a flying crank except my girlfriend and Moose- by the way, if you read this and know who Moose is, you understand just how selective my audience is. Or, if you read this and you are Moose or my girlfriend, hey, how's it going? You guys are awesome. But damn it if they aren't exactly the elusive post-Myspace/Pre-Adult Friend Finder/currently You-Tube demographic that marketing firms moisten their briefs over in boardrooms over bistro-catered luncheons where faux-hawked, white-belted hipster/market strategists eat Boca-burger iPods, Tribeca-infused pan-Asian Curry Wraps and wash them down with some Jones sodas. I know, it's Izze. It's just hard to keep up with all the soda pops. And while I have your attention, could whomever is in charge please stop using that fucking Gorillaz song in ad campaigns? It's been over a year since iPod used it- yet every time I walk into Target, I hear that fucking song- which wasn't bad until the last 124 times I heard it. Now, you might think this says something more about how much time I spend at Target, but as I've said before, Target is bananas, yo. *** I'm interjecting here because since I first edited this piece of shit, the Gorillaz have been over-oversaturated by Gnarls Barkley. And thank god, the alternative kids needed some safe black music to latch onto until the next Outkast record drops. So what the fuck's been going ahn?
Ok, yeah, I fucking know. Syd Barrett died. Not that I'm insensitive, but the story should have been like this:

From: Reuters July 12, 2006 09:00 EST

OH, HEY, SYD BARRETT DIED.
Fans of the British 1960's psychedelic band, Pink Floyd, were shocked to find out that founding member, Syd Barrett, was alive enough since 1974 to die yesterday. Members of the music community were mildly stunned and underwhelmingly blase about the news. "I thought he died in 1976...1983...or 1992...or...1998...." said one guy. "I think that Mr. Barrett will always be remembered as the singularly greatest host of The Gong Show.....oh...I see. I thought Syd Barrett was already dead. He was alive when the Detroit Tigers won the World Series? Fuck me." Strangely, Syd Barrett's legacy preceded his somewhat untimely death (sources suppose), as most legacies start after one dies. "It's a common phenomenon, it's sort of like finding out that Jefferson Starship is playing the State Fair. Everyone's like, holy shit! These motherfuckers are still around? So, I suppose it would be fair to say that Syd Barrett is ultimately Starship at our State Fair" says music expert Ron Bookcoque.....

Seriously, I had no idea he was even alive. Sort of like Rip Taylor. He should have died in 1979. Motherfucker's still kickin it, live and direct. No Doubt.

I was looking at the concert listings for the DTE Energy Music Center, formerly known as Pine Knob, in the paper and thought to myself, this Summer's concert line-up fucking blows. Then I said to myself, "shit, I've known that for 10 years!" Seriously, what ever happened to the line-up of shows that used to get you all pumped-up about the summer? For example, I distinctly remember seeing Cheap Trick playing the Knob in like 1996. It was like $10 for a lawn seat. Then, after poor ticket sales, they lowered the price to $5 with a can of food. I mean who wouldn't want to go see Robin Zander wear a vest without a shirt and sing "The Flame" for $5 and a non-perishable food item? Previous years have at least had a couple shows of interest. Of course we can always count on the blue-chips: Eddie Money will be Sh-Sh-Sh-Shakin', some incarnation of the Beach Boys featuring the two dickheads will show up to crap their pants on stage for some reason, Steve Miller will fly like an eagle (to the sea) , and Foreigner featuring Lou Gramm will no doubt leave you hotblooded, check it and see. But mostly, it just bums me out that there isn't one show this year worthy of the effort or the price. I just hope that Alice Cooper plays the State Fair again this year.

Project Runway's been going on. Ok, I said i'd stop watching it after Malan got kicked off, but i'm still into it. Why the fuck would you want to kick that guy off? He was the most interesting and stupid character out of the whole lot. I'm so serious, I'm seriouly doubting it. Now we get to deal with a bunch of dickslaps who have no presence, no personality. Personality is what made Santino so sweet last year. Now Bradley got jacked and he was the only guy that used Tresemme hair gel. And fuck tattoo-y neck guy. What an autofellator. Hopefully him and his neck will get the boot pronto. Otherwise, I'm going back to America's Got Talent.

I'll keep you posted a little better next time. I gotta go catch up with Dr. Troy. Oh, you say you haven't gotten into Nip/Tuck? Have I got a show for you!

Garage Days Revisited

2006-05-16T11:44:00.000-04:00

Just in case you were wondering, the garage sale kinda sucked. It was rainy, but I sold a bunch of cassette tapes, including the entire Bon Scott saga of AC/DC, ultra-deck Kraftwerk Autobahn, and an ultra-rare Final Descent by Samhain (you're welcome). Kevin got mad at me for soiling his radio-control car in the torrential mud, cherry Kool-Aid was served, and when we commenced to sippin' the beer, we all got our respective swerves on, or whatever. And, while most people might think it strange to call your friends to sell them your crap that you've deemed crap enough to put in the crapper and not have anymore, it is a solid, if not crappy business maneuver. I must have sold $35.75 in unwanted crap to my friends who crapped by. Fuck yeah, friends are royal suckers for crap. With my extra cashflow, I was able to download some rockers from the internet music service of my choice and just push that shit out...push that shit out, mang. So here's what I got from the garage sale.
Mouth For War- Pantera
Ok, I know what you're saying. He must have seen the Pantera Behind The Music right after he watched Ratt Behind The Music on VH1 this weekend and gotten into Pantera like three days ago. Totally, except the extent of me "getting into" Pantera has thusfar been limited to spending one dollar on a sweet jam. I mean, I've always thought that with a band name like Pantera, you had to be awesome in some facility. Although, I have been let down before- bands with seemingly great names that just kinda blow, i.e. Sportsguitar, Fudge Tunnel, Gogol Bordello, New Riders Of The Purple Sage, and Herman's Hermits (oh, no he didn't!). There's also the matter of having some of the worst album covers ever in the history of worst. However, there are only a few other band names like Pantera that conjure such strong anthropomorphic/cryptozoological awesomeness: Archangel Thunderbird, Lightninghawk (a fictitious creature from the made for TV movie, Monsters & Mazes, I believe), Pumaman, Sabertoothica, Beholder,Nazghoul, Hawkwind (what is it about hawks?), and Hasslehoffica. I think there's some heavy metal equation that has something to do with your band name being based on an animal, subtracting a consonent, and adding an 'a' to the end, or adding the origin of an animal to the end (although, this eqaution seems to only work well for Pantera and Tigers Of Pan Tang). Or I suppose you could just take a word and look for it in a different language- Pantera is Portugese for 'stretch pants'. No pero un las panteras! Pantera's music works on various levels- most of the levels have something to do with cock, while the others rely heavily on smoking weed and getting your face punched-in by some dick also on the weed. Pantera's brand of extreme guy rock is more akin to a Rollins Band release, minus the jazz chord interludes, bad spoken-word poetry, and protuberant gayness. That's not to say that Phil Anselmo's lyrics are good by any stretch of the imagination, but they're delivered in the same kinda hunched-over, wearing-black-workout- shorts kind of way. You know, lyrics about not fitting in, some oppressive, malevolent antagonist referred to as "you" or "they", prison references, gross anatomy, and pseudo-political musings with a couple 'fucks' thrown in there to keep it real. Not to mention the best thing ever-the occasional "putting everyone on notice" through interviews: 'We put everyone on notice that we don't fuck around. Our fans know we're true right down to the fucking core.' - lead singer Phil Anselmo. All you have to do to be fucking hard these days is put everyone on notice. So, like, I'm gonna do that more often, so y'all know I'm not fucking around.
The Troggs- Night Of The Long Grass
First of all, you all are on notice- so deal with that. Secondly, Wild Thing isn't the only jam the Troggs wrote. While people who have actually bought an album in the last 40 years are well aware of this, oldies stations all over the US want you to believe that the Troggs were one-hitters. Fuck that, they were more like a 2-foot double-chamber titanium skull-splitter ice bong with a go/no-go switch. When's the last time you heard "6-6-5-4-3-2-1," or "Give It To Me," or "Girl In Black," or "Hi, Hi Hazel," for that matter! All of them hits- in the Rubin Kincade sense of the word, I say! All of them! You can get like 9 Troggs minor hits on the 20th Century Masters (The Millennium Collection) CD, but fuck that. According to Universal Music, every piece of shit band that ever put an album out is deserving of the title "Master" of the 20th Century- hence, Animotion, Ozark Mountain Daredevils, and Rupert Holmes' inclusion in this atrocious series. The sweetest thing about the Troggs is that all of their songs are essentially retarded; so remedial that even I can play them on guitar. I think the only one I had a problem with was Little Red Donkey. But then I took my problem to a guy named Terry S. at the Guitar Center and before he gave me a HOT DEAL, he showed me how to play the extremely tricky A minor chord on a Gibson Les Paul Vintage Mahogany that brings together old and new Les Paul features to create a unique and special guitar. This fucking thrasher has the round warmth of a carved mahogany top on a mahogany back with the added vintage edge of Gibson's Alnico 5 BurstBucker Pro humbuckers, Tune-o-matic bridge with stopbar, and trapezoid inlays. Fucking guitar shreds. Monster tone, a total fucking monster, especially when you're fucking bustin' some Smoke On The Water, blazing some of Terry's cherry-red chronic brick bud with no seeds, and runnin' it through a Crate CA125DG Telluride 125W Amp with DSP. Needless to say, the chord wasn't the only thing Terry taught me, and I have to thank him for that. But what's the fucking deal with Guitar Center, anyway? Hands-down the most fucking annoying mail list to be on ever, next to Citi Cards. OK, we get it. There's a fucking "sale" at Guitar Center every fucking weekend. Really? There's an "event" going on at Guitar Center? Drop everything. You mean if I go buy two dozen sets of drumsticks, I'll get 6 dozen for free?! Start the prowler!
I got some other songs, too.

Garage Sale

2006-05-10T21:45:00.000-04:00

Ok, so by the apparent lack of interest in soup ( you dicks know you eat it), I'll not do another soup review until it's absolutely necessary. This week's soup is...gotcha! I wish people were more into the "gotcha!"thing- it's one of life's little freebs- like padiddles and the stick your finger in the hole game. I also wish it were easier to surprise and startle people with writing- I mean it's pretty hard to type "boo" and have someone actually get startled. You kind of have to think ahead and try to push your sentence just far enough to force the reader's eyes to the next s BOO!- Did I getcha? No. Because it's fucking impossible to scare someone with a word. And before you say something about possibly using bold typeface to establish emphasis, I suggest you retire your nib. Bold just draws more attention to your scary word, thereby warning the now suspecting reader. My friend Dave used to creep me out by writing gross sayings on his white cordless telephone with magic marker (Of course, he also would write "The Who" and "Rude Boy" on his dog, Barky). And while the words never startled me, they did creep me out and make me feel uneasy- sometimes even eerily macabre. I think the horror-type font helps make words creepier, but you have to pretty much know how to use photoshop or be in the Misfits to do that on the internet. Dave used to write words like "gross worms," or other crazy scary shit all over. Man, I get a chill down my spine just talking about it. Let's talk about garages.
Springtime in the city means one thing and one thing only- garage sales and barbeque. Throughout history, garages have been used to keep cars in and in some cases, "sportsbarrels." Garages have been used for making babies and ending lives, as well. Many garages have "garage doors," which are bigger than most other doors, and can be opened and closed with something called a garage door opener. If I were an observational comedian, right now I would start riffin' on why they're called openers instead of closers, even though openers are closers, too. And then I'd bring the house down with my irreverent catchphrase, "Bullshit!"( you have to stretch it out for it to be effective- buulllllshhiiit!)
But I'm not an observational comedian, so disregard that last hilarious passage that would have killed( I tell ya, killed!) Garages have historically been the site of tons of kick-ass fires, household chemical laboratories, homemade fireworks displays, crystal meth labs, and probably served as that Sean guy from high school's Anarchist Cookbook rehearsal space. Garages also have served as a place where music dudes can fucking "jam." Garage bands and their music (and the women who blow them) are woven into the fiber of American popular culture- so much, in fact, that around the turn of the century- not that one, the other one- shitty bands from Detroit actually got record deals, coke habits, and regional obscurity from their popularity. Garages in America are used primarily for garage sales. Garages in Germany are, apparently, used by sexually confused teenagers who like to drink Jagermeister, tingle-wrestle, zap dicks, and puke at places like Shmiddi's.
Ever since the dawn of garages, there have been garage sales. It's sort of like the Which Came First? question, except you could probably actually figure it out. I'm gonna take an educated stab at sales coming first. The popularity of the garage sale really started to take off in mid-17th Century , whenThe Ottoman Empire captured Crete from the Venetians after the Siege of Kmartia and they were forced to have a jumble sale (Europe/UK) because the traditional 2-horse stalls (found throughout the suburbs of the Empire) were too small for all that fucking shit. They first tried to get away with hanging "Bless This Mess" signs on local stalls, but ultimately had to price everything to go. Some 50-clam swords and tartans went for a shocking 89% markdown. In case you were wondering, yes, Kmartia was the first soverign nation to adopt a "blue flame special" during statewide garage sales. How they got the blue flame is a touchy subject if not effectively buffered by a skillful comedy powerhouse such as Rusty Warren (of knockers up fame) or Carrot Top. Later, in 1950's America, people went post-war garage crazy. America's hard-on for a bargain reached fever pitch. There was no longer a need to "pitch a tent," as the shelter of a garage would suffice for a weekend of hawking baby clothes, chandeliers, and Jodeci boots. Today, the popularity of the garage sale has spread to include such sale types as the Yard, the Multi-Family, the Neigborhood, and the Subdivision! Even with such a wide variety of sales, the results are usually the same: a Crock Pot, a Precious Moments figurine, and a VG++ vinyl copy of Hooked On Classics and/or a shitty copy of that one Gino Vannelli record (with I Just Wanna Stop).
Garage Sale Pricing. What can I say about garage sale pricing- it's cheap. The concept behind most garage sales is this: I have a bunch of shit sitting around and I would rather get a quarter for it than throw it away. And I can get a quarter for it because people are essentially cheap fucking assholes who are easily duped and wouldn't sneeze if I sold them a toaster without a cord for $2.00. I am also too fucking lazy to be bothered selling crap on eBay. And garage salers who use eBay as a pricing guide are missing the point completely. There's nothing more annoying than mustached "antiquers" who try to sell they shit at market value. It's a fucking garage sale- not the Antiques Road Show, Richard. Don't get me started on the whole baby clothes garage sale syndrome. Which brings me to my point.
We're having a Garage Sale this Saturday 9AM-4PM, 1645 W. Hancock St. Detroit, MI- Look for the signs!
GET THERE EARLY IF YOU WANT THE TOASTER (needs a cord).

The Week In Soup

2006-05-03T15:13:00.000-04:00

It's not often that you get to read a good soup review, so I thought I'd take a slurp at it. Ha! Slurp at it. Get it? Knock Knock. Who's there? Pulit. Pulit who? Pulitzer fucking prize, Mary. When I look at my stash of magazines- all titles available at Target, perv- I think to myself: WTF, no news on the latest soups? And then I'm all, WTS, AIAFI? BFM if I'm gonna ever spell out another FPOTB. AIK is that WFTP when you can get the bacon from the store? BTW, I'm NEFK. This week's soup is a Chicken Noodle varietal.

Name: Progresso Chicken Noodle
Subtitle: with Roasted White Meat Chicken
Net Wt.= +/- 15.25 OZ(432g)
Distribution/Region : Progresso Foods Division, General Mills Cereals, LLC, Minneapolis, MN
Website: www.ProgressoSoup.com
OVERALL RATING: 2 (out of 4 stars)

While the hot-shitter set of 20-something Souperzzi at Progresso were busy concocting a hearty varietal of chicken court bouillion featuring noodles and grilled chicken, they must have just about shit a collective brique when they realized they could make the can into a bowl (a hip spin on Colonial pocket soups). I know I would have. I had an idea of that calibre once- it involved a little 3-legged plastic piece that kept pizza box lids from touching any of the pizza's cheese surface. Then, after it's initial use, you could use it as a little mini patio table for a ladybug tea party (perhaps attaching a drink parasol on effulgent summer days). I never did get the patent on that fucker, so here I am- blogging about soup. I'm such a fag.
Anyway, I do enjoy the styro wrap-insulated cupbowl- it beats the hell out of ancient canning technologies. Plus, it doesn't hurt as much as a can when you whip it at someone's head. I was baffled and somewhat humbled by the metal rim that for some science reason, didn't spark in the microwave. Then I found out it was a field trip to the pony ramp. If you microwave it without the plastic cover, it will arc like a motherfucker. So much for your dragon-scale alloy theory. Let's just say that when the guy who figured this trick out dies, he won't be getting the broken wand ceremony (drat!)
All good soups start with good broth. Progresso starts off with your basic Court Bouillion, but modify it to a kind of rogue Bouillion de Poule. So much modification, in fact, that it just ends up being a Pot-au-feu with some slightly oaky-charcoal-y undertones. The broth's finish is both fatty and, dare I say, playful, once the carrots are infused. But just when you think you have Progresso's number, they slip you the tongue and squeeze your ass in the form of Peruvian Armador Celery. Most companies would stick with the less-hip and strangely rigid Utah Matador variety. Progresso has something to prove to the Ikea crowd. What this small variation does is offset the richness and viscocity of the broth with a fluid efficiency found only in Mrs. Grass' Private Reserve (2004) or a Todd Oldham for La-Z-Boy Bernie Sofa. It's sort of like when you mix some water and corn starch together- it'll get all over your shit if you lighlty tap it. But your shit keeps clean if you slap the shit out of it. Hence, Progresso's Chicken Noodle Soup is best severed slow (this also makes it a great soup for films).
I know what you're saying. What does it taste like? Well, it's sort of like a mixture between Campbell's Chunky and early Heinz Select (UK). While many statesiders may not be familiar with Heinz's line of, are you ready for this? "tinned" soups, the ketchup king made a horrifyingly terrific chicken soup- that could easily be coerced into being a bisque if it were less creamless. Progresso is very strong in the roased white meat chicken department. And it would be foolish to unerestimate the influence the roasting has on the soup's joi de poule.
Fuck you, pay me. I can go on for pages about the broth, but this is a chicken soup with noodles. Progresso uses egg noodles that unfortunately offset the divine broth. I was under the impression that noodles were made from simple shit like eggs and flour and ferrous sulphate. Progresso ups the ante by adding Niacin, Thiamin Mononitrate, Riboflavin, Folic Acid, and Claus the Moron's semen. This just kinda throws a Masked Magician into the whole equation- what a fucking spoiler. The noodles contaminate an almost pristine chicken broth which gives the whole experience a serious Love Canal feel.
In summation, Progresso's attempt at a cutting-edge chicken noodle soup for the iPod set falls short of hip-soup glory. While both the broth and the container had a strong showing, the noodles ultimately make this soup poopingly average.

What a Disaster!

2006-05-02T12:19:00.000-04:00

VARIOUS LOSERS.
GO PISTONS.

I Am Music, And I Write The Songs

2006-04-28T01:15:00.000-04:00

This Week's Hot Jams For Your Computer To Play
Slayer- "Angel Of Death"
Nice fucking cliche. Let me guess, you probably have a songs called Necropheliac, Postmortem, and/or Skeletons of Society, right? No shit? I can't believe I just guessed that! Well, I'm sure Slayer probably got most of their song titles from some high school kid's TrapperKeeper- scrawled in red pen, right next to a picture of a disproportionate skull with horns and fangs and shit. I remember this one time in 9th grade when Kyle Feliks and I had the same art class and we were just getting into satan and drawing skulls on our Converse an' shit and we made "Color Books Of Death" in Mr. Petersen's intro to art class- we had it all, Tertiary Tumors, Complimentary Contusions, Secondary Slit Wrists, Primary Corpses, and something called the Monochromatic Massacre (all great prospective Slayer song titles by the way). It must be nice being in a Satanic thrash band, you don't even have to be clever, just into gross, dumb shit and Satan. That said, Slayer fucking rules. Sometimes it's like fuck yeah, metal and Satan. Other times it's like what the fuck is everybody doing soloing at the same time? Other times it's like how the fuck does Kerry King wear that nail armband thing without snaggin' some sack? As dark as Slayer is, there has to be some hilarious anecdote about the nail armor thing poking someone in the dick. I can't even walk through a room without hilariously hitting my nuts on something. I can't imagine having an armband on with 6" spikes poking out.
I'm not a big fan of the whole metal genre, per se. I like the classics, Judas Priest, Dio, Motorhead, Metallica (with Cliff). And I feel kinda like a dick for liking some of Slayer's stuff because nobody really likes black or thrash metal except for loser Norwegians who nickname themselves "Vlad" or some dumb fucking name from The Hobbit. I mean, when's the last time someone put on a Venom record without laughing? So it can be said I'm one of those posers who likes their metal over-the-top for the sake of irony, and for that I suck and will be denied entrance to the 9th circle of Hell.
This track is amazing. It's a definite go-to jam when people talk Slayer. You may recognize it from the new Volkswagen commercial. Just kidding. You may however recognize the riff from Public Enemy's '(She Watch) Channel Zero.' And it's at that time of recognition that you thank your lucky inverted pentagrams that it was P.E. and not the Beastie Boys who used the riff- cuz the Beastie Boys rub your rhubarb the wrong way and She Watch Channel Zero still shreds to this day. Slay on.

Peter & Gordon - "I Go To Pieces"
Simon and Garfunkel, Chad & Jeremy, Boyce & Hart, Loggins & Messina, Hall & Oates, Captain & Tennille, Bob & Doug, 10-Speed & Brownshoe, Ace and Gary, Bob & Carol & Ted & Alice, Bill S. Pressman, Esq. & Ted Theodore Logan, Stapp & Rock all couldn't hold a candle to Peter & Gordon. Well, actually they could, I was just into my duos there for a second and then it was like what the fuck kind of clever thing can I say to finish this sentence? Anyway, I love me some P&G. I think they're probably one of the most overlooked British Invasion duos in the history of the Earth. I Go To Pieces was written by Del Shannon, not Paul McCartney, who not so incidentally was ramping-up on Peter's sister, actress Jane Asher. Oh, the scandal! How do you sleep? Anyway, P&G did a bunch of McCartney-penned jammies (A World Without Love), this weren't one of 'em. This is just one of those timeless jams that is so dated, you just about want to throw your calendar out and use a sun dial.

Retractions/Corrections

2006-04-26T23:38:00.000-04:00

Some hilarious anonymous guy left a comment correcting my use of "mullet" on mike Ricci's hair. I appologize for any confusion or grief this may have caused him. Mike Ricci's hair is indeed not a mullet- it's just long hair. Fortunately, this incredulous samaritan did the fact-checking for me (I didn't even pay him) and "corrected" me. Whew! Thanks for that. However, Mike Ricci's hair used in conjunction with a black Bauer 4000 model hockey helmet gives the distinct impression of a "mullet." It's almost like a hybrid or some shit-not unlike Robocop- a category unto itself. Hopefully the term "hockey hair" will satisfy any concerned parties. I hereby officially retract my mullet statement. That said, the "assbag" statement stays. And that still is Mike Ricci's fault.
-Ed.

Rapper-Slash-Actorz

2006-04-24T11:31:00.000-04:00

Oh, how the hip hop. While I am indeed excited about the new Poseidon movie-it's got a tidal wave that rivals The Day After Tomorrow's (as far as laser-animation waves go) I am more boner-prone about how well rapper/actors have been doing on the silver screen lately. So much so, in fact, and hitherto, I will refer to said Silver Screen as the Platinum Screen henceforth (or at least until there's a trendier metal in the hip-hop community). What makes me think this is the dawn of the golden age of....shit, all this metal and bling just makes me wanna roll out and get up on some Laffy Taffy. So without any further ado, I present to yes, yes, y'all,
LEGENDZ OF THE PLATINUM SCREEN .

L.L. Cool J- Deep Blue Sea
Ladies do love cool James, know what I'm sayin'? Especially when he licks his lips, know what I'm sayin'? The ladies also love it when you're doing Mtv's Unplugged and your armpits are coated with white clumps of deodorant, know what I'm sayin'? Alas, L.L., sometimes it pays to wear a shirt (or a parrot). Anyway, L.L., future of the funk, managed to land a juicy role in 1999's Deep Blue Sea- a movie about a group of smart great white sharks who attack and eat a bunch of scientists and presumably crap their nerd left-overs out into the ocean. Uncle L's performance as Sherman "Preacher" Dudley, can be summarized as fucking awesome. It can also be summarized with this memorable quote: Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil. For thou art with me. Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life. Because I carry a big stick and I'm the meanest motherfucker in the valley! Two sharks down, Lord! One demon fish to go! Can I get an Amen?
L.L. went on to do many interesting movies, including but not limited to: Rollerball.

Ice T- Leprechaun In The Hood
You know what I say. I want me gold! And Ice T delivers it in this inexcusable 5th installment in the Leprechaun series. Did I miss something? I don't recall The Leprechaun doing well at the box office, let alone the 3 other ones after the original. I'm a little suspicious. Did anybody check to see if Leprechaun 3 and 4 ever even came out? They may have pulled a fast one on us, because as we all know, the 5th installment of a movie series is usally the paydirt box office gold. And the Leprechaun wants it! Ice T's part in this jam is, well, small. He rarely gets the chance to shine like he did in New Jack City or John Wayne Bobbit's Frankenpenis - except when he smokes a joint with the Leprechaun, then it's a fucking O.G. Ice is currently a pimp (doi) and on Law & Order SVU or one of the seven CSI's currently on TV. And, God willing, there will be a Body Count reunion soon. Cop Killer!

Ice Cube- Anaconda, Are We There Yet?
Olivier, Geilgood, Cube. Seriuosly, Cube is flexin' nuts. Ice Cube is the best actor who boss'd up from tha game. Only Mos Def is as talented- and that's probably because most people saw Mos Def in The Italian Job before they ever heard one of his records. Cube gets extra points for his genius portrayal of "Craig" in the Friday series. How can you argue with the masterful delivery of the line: "Ever hear of El Nino? Well, this is El Negro..."? Stanislavsky would have just about creamed his jeans. Are We There Yet marks cubes departure from high-art cinema (Ghosts Of Mars, Barbershop) to the the tawdry "family movie" genre. I don't want to say Cube is a punk bitch, but it's a far cry from "When I'm called off, I got a sawed off/Squeeze the trigger, and bodies are hauled off/You too, boy, if ya fuck with meThe police are gonna hafta come and get me off yo ass, that's how I'm goin out, for the punk motherfuckers that's showin out/Niggaz start to mumble, they wanna rumble/Mix 'em and cook em in a pot like gumbo/Goin' off on a motherfucker like that with a gat that's pointed at yo ass." Let's just hope that he gets back to the real gangsta shit, giant snake movies.

Snoop Dogg- Bones, Soul Plane
There's so much drama in the S.A.G. it's hard being Snoop D-o-double g. Snoop Dogg wins for the most endearing gangsta/actor. You can't help but love the fucking high-on. I mean white bitches are all on his jock. The fact that he actually has an uncle named Junebug also helps. While his acting career started with some questionable choices in gay porn (Hot Boyz, 3 The Hard Way) Snoop is finally hitting his stride. Soul Plane offered Snoop the opportunity to stretch and play the role of his career: Captain Mack, the pilot of a black-owned airline. Who could forget the line: " This is your soul plane chauffeur Captain Antoine Mack speaking. Welcome aboard NWA flight 069 from the 310 to the 212. It's time to bust this coney y'all. In a hot second, I'll be hittin' them switches and gettin' this bitch pumpin' and jumpin'. So screw your shit on tight and enjoy the flight." Coach Snoop will be released later this year.

Honorable mentionz:
RZA- Ghost Dog, Soul Plane
Fat Joe- Urban Menace
Busta Rhymes- Halloween Resurrection, Finding Forrester
Mos Def - The Italian Job
Method Man/ Redman- How High

Face/Off

2006-04-19T00:34:00.000-04:00

As I watched the Mighty Detroit Red Wings phone-in the final game of the regular season against the Nashville Predators (sick), it dawned on me that Nashville's head coach, Barry Trotz, is totally fucking creeped-out looking. Then I thought shit-dog, there's a lot of fugly guys in the NHL. Of course, it doesn't help that broken noses, scars, and missing teeth are pre-reqs, but man, some of these guys went face first down the Fucking Ugly Tree. So, in honor of the playoffs starting this Friday, here's my short-list of THE FUGLIEST GUYS IN HOCKEY.
Go Wings.
1. Barry Trotz. Coach for Nashville Predators. Looks like your creepy uncle who wore too many silver rings in the.....wait a second. Barry Trotz is the motherfucker in Coven!

2. Tim Hunter. Ok, he doesn't play anymore. This was Jim's pick for the ugliest guy. And after careful consideration, I'd say um, yeah.

3. Darren McCarty. God bless him. The City of Detroit loves him and should pay off his $6 million debt for what he brought to the Red Wings. But he's a Flame in Calgary now, so fuck him (game on, bitch!).

4. Tie Domi. I hate this dirt-ass. By the way, Toronto wins for the ugliest team ever. Seriously. I included this picture with the blood because he's a cheap-shot thug and always has blood all over his dirt-ass poop face.

5. Chris Mason. Nashville strikes again. This tool used to play bass in an S.O.D. tribute band. Then he went bald and grew a sweet-ass beard and tends goal for a shitty franchise team . What an ugly turd.

6. Darien Hatcher. What more can I say? You're fucking ugly. And you were never a Red Wing. You were just a crappy ugly guy who showed up at the locker room to sniff jocks.

7. The Sedins, Daniel and Henrik . Two of the ugliest fucking twins ever. They get the special WE LOOK EXACTLY LIKE RONNY AND DONNY BLUME AWARD. Get your head out of your ass!

8. Bryan Marchment. O.K., he probably wouldn't look so bad if he got his nose lined-up. But then again, Scoliosis wouldn't exist if you could just line shit up.

9. Mike Ricci. Hands-down the ugliest man to ever play hockey at the professional level. Is currently in the running for the ugliest guy pretty much ever. Some things are genetic, and some things are your own fault. The mullet was your own fault, assbag. Seriously, I think I'm going to puke. Ugliness so nice I had to show you twice. The other image is of Geddy Lee, leader of the kick-ass Canadian rock band, Rush.

10. Finally, I just had to put one more in to make an even ten-ski. So here's Bobby Hull. Just because I love you.

I've Got Rhythm.

2006-04-16T23:44:00.000-04:00

It has been said that most of my talents could be classified as parlor talents. And, while that may be true, I have one thing the other naysaying rathscallions do not: taste. And while there still may be no accounting for taste, there most certainly is elucidation. So for those of you who blenched when I told you 2006 will mark the 4th and final wave of Ska music, it's time to pay the fiddler(or trombonist). While there may not yet be broad physical evidence of dabblings in the Ska arts, there is a malevolent undercurrent of rudeness thriving in the new lot of bands out in 2006. Mark my words! Let's talk turkey.
Downloaded Jamz 4 Thiz Week
Bill Withers- Ain't No Sunshine - Motherfucker clocks in at 2:04. That's two minutes, four seconds. Bill Withers is all, "I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know this song is a fucking jam, so suck on it!" And we suck on it for two minutes, four seconds....then hit repeat. Or, if you're old school, you hit Rev/Rew on the deck. It's still 99 cents, so you will pause for a second before committing to purchase, but you just end up playing the shit out of it anyway, for like 8 minutes, 16 seconds.
Terry Reid- Silver White Light - Thanks to Johnny Krautner for turning me on to this dude. Apparently, as legend has it, Jimmy Page asked this guy to be Zeppelin's singer before Plant. After you hear his voice, you kinda wonder if Zepp would have skimped on the wizard and fairy shit and been a little more Faces/Humble Pie (had Tare got the gig). Although most of that was Page's fault. So like who fucking knows? Maybe some Gnomes? But then there would be no Stairway. And I'm not sure I'm ready to contemplate an existence with no Stairway. Where's my tokestone and my Alister Crowley manuscripts?
Margo Guryan- California Shake - Another Krautner jam. Johnny is the best. I know very little about Margo Guryan, except that she is a fucking genius...and that Michelle Potter is a fan.This release from the 70's sounds better than most the shit that came out last year. Songs like this make me think that some people "shine," just like Scatman Crothers in that one movie. And then sometimes I think about dumb shit like naming my new ska band Ska-tman Crothers. And then I go to my lonely place and cry. But then like the next day, I wake up with a renewed sense of hope, only to realize that I just had a thought about my new ska band and fucking off myself right there.

New Sting Ray Species Found, Yeah, O.K., Whatever!

2006-04-12T11:30:00.000-04:00

Well, fuck me, Science has done it again: Found a new species of freshwater Sting Ray in Thailand. While this new science "discovery" may be interesting to science lesbians and pith-helmeted, monocle-wearing, bermuda-shorted, dickduster-ed world explorer guys, I think it's totally a fake! I mean, have you seen the pictures of this so-called new species, Himantura kittipongi? It looks exactly like Urolophus halleri but with little blue dots painted all over it! If you're going to tell me that the key speciel, yes, speciel differentiation is "the stingray has 12 to 14 rows of teeth on its lower jaw -- and like some blue-ish kinda dots, or whatever..." then I say fuck to you, scientists! Just because Science is bored, doesn't mean it's time to start painting perfectly good stingrays with dots. Just to prove how easy it is to fake people out with science, I'm going to show you my newly discovered species of Yoko Ono.
See? I didn't even use paint like the Thai scientists did. It stinks of the Giant Squid photo hoax of 2005. National Geographic? More like National Totally-Fake-a-graphic. Bet you didn't think your ass was going to school today, did you?

Hey, Marianne!

2006-04-11T12:13:00.000-04:00

I just had to share this little picture with you. In an earlier post, I said that Marianne Faithfull was still "kinda hot, if you're into that whole Detroit-Bar-Hag thing." When I wrote that, I had a picture in mind- some image of a hag at a bar smoking her umpteenth ciggy, surrounded by half-full glasses of Old Crow. I tried different image searches, including "Detroit Hag", "Bar Hag," "White Trash Drunk," "Hillbilly Drunk," and "Hillbilly Porn," just to, you know, see what the hell that would be like. The image I had in my head did not show up. That was until I actually did a "Marianne Faithfull" search! Eureka!

Context.

2006-04-07T14:34:00.000-04:00

I've been busy thinking of better swear words. My friend Chris told me about the Nebraskan expression, "shitballs" which definitely has upper-management written all over it. I came up with "cocksnot" and "Jimney Crickets!" I didn't really get to espouse on swearing in context (not to be confused with Dr. Melvin Taint's book by the same name). I'll make this short. It may or may not come as a surprise that while I don't like authors cheating dirty words out of their rightful gravitas, I am a huge fan of conjunctions such as Fugly (Fucking Ugly), Ass'ounder(Ass Pounder) and Too'beej'er (Toothy Blowjob)-(not to be confused with the Thin Lizzy album of the same name). You never know in mixed company, and I hate to tread on the fine line between an honest-to-goodness swear and euphemism. While a conjunction stands for a couple words parted-out, a euphemism will suggest words by replacing them altogether. Example: instead of calling someone an ass-fucker, fudge packer could be used to talk about an alleged ass-fucker in a family restaurant or amusement park setting. Now, as crude as that example might be, we've all known some fudge packers in our respective days. As a matter of fact, fudge packing can be the perfect Summer job for college students trying to earn a few extra bucks for that Abercrombie & Fitch pre-worn baseball cap over the break. Anyway, context is a very valuable swearing tool is all. Just like comedy, timing can be as important as every comedian's list of Black/White and Men/Women jokes. Hey, what's the deal with Black people? Oh, right, black people jokes aren't funny (unless Chris Rock is doing them...right? Can I say that? Oh. Well, strike that, then. How about Lou Diamond Phillips?) Hey, What's the deal with White people!? Serious situations call for serious swears....or do they? Sometimes when you're hanging out with sailors, you find yourself at the mercy of a crap-storm of profanities. What better time to use a clever swear like "banana hammock," or how about an olde fashioned men's locker room curse,"Nut Talc!"? Of course, the latter only sounds convincing if it's followed with an "old sport!" Context.
This Week's downloaded jamz-
Fugazi- Furniture
Sometimes you think it's like 1991 and you're in a skate video, but it's 2006 and you never could even ollie. This is from the Furniture E.P., which came out after Red Medicine( I think)- but it's jams that sound like they were recorded around the time of Repeater, so they weren't so Kraut-swamp-reggae. They still relied on Ian crescendoing with a swear word, as he always has- Did you fuckin' get it?! This time it's BULLSHIT! I wish I was in Fugazi. Except, not so righteous. Because I am what I own.
Marianne Faithfull- In My Time Of Sorrow
Baroque pop has never sounded so rococo...or maybe it leans more toward late Mannerism. I don't know if I love Marianne Faithfull's voice as much as 17th Century art movements, but I think I like it enough to buy her albums on eBay. And if you've ever seen her in The Rock And Roll Circus, you too may have a small crush on her- or the idea of her at the time. Mick did. And he's a fucking genius. What makes you so special? She like definitely should have been killed by Roman Polanski or Manson or something- maybe Brian Wilson should have suffocated her with his inability to finish anything in a timely manner. It just would have been more romantic than releasing Broken English. Although, she is still kind of hot, if you're into the whole Detroit-chain-smoking bar-hag thing.
The Dirty Mac- Yer Blues
This is what happens when a bunch of dudes from different bands smoke and drink and play music together. It's called a jam session - not unlike when your band, Tazer, aligns forces with you cousin Doug's band, Bloodsport and you guys get together every other Thursday in hopes of hittin' some kick-fucking-ass open mic nights in the summertime. Solo, motherfucker! I think it's in E!

FIDDLESTICKS!

2006-04-04T10:17:00.000-04:00

Oh, fiddlesticks!
In an attempt to sound not so "abrasive", I have decided to replace my usual four-letter trick bag of "fuck," "shit," and uh....um....you see, it isn't that simple anymore, is it? Let's face it, people who like to drink deep from the lexicon of profane language (and mixed metaphors) have outgrown their (your) parents' swear, curse, dirty, or cuss words. Even I have outgrown my starter set of words that are somewhere around four-letters (Hell, Fuck, Shit, tits, etc.). It would seem that while a well-placed "fuck" might indeed be "tits," there are more appropriate, complex, and interesting vocabulary choices for the job- "tittyfuck" for example.
Many of yesterday's swears have become so commonplace, that their effect is negligible. I mean how effective is it when you say "My damned car got stolen!" When you could be more emphatic and concerned-sounding when you say "My fucking car got stolen!" And just by whipping a few other swears in there, you actually might sound affected: "Fuck me, those fucking douche-bags just fucking stole my fucking car...fuck!" See?
Words like damn are like the dang crummy words they use in television versions of movies on like TNT or ABC's Saturday Night Movie. Which, by the way, is a kick-fucking-ass event unto itself- especially when it's Goodfellas or Casino. Freak you! Personally, I use "damned" so often and so flippantly in actual adult conversation that whenever I order food from a restaurant, I have no problem chucking a few D-bombs in there: "yes, I'll have the damned filet, and can you make damn sure it's done medium, Higgins?" And the waiter is all, "Yes, sir would you like Ranch or Soutwestern-style sauce with your Jalepeno Poppers?" And it's like sometimes you have to self-monitor because you're so hungry and excited about ordering food and you know you shouldn't swear, but you're thinking: "Motherfucker, I am sooo fucking having the filet, I'm not even fucking joking. And, I'll have the baked potato and fucking drown that bitch in motherfucking grade A sour cream, and step on it, cocksucker!"
On Bravo's Inside The Actor's Studio, James Lipton always concludes with the now famous questionnaire, developed by Bernard Pivot ( I think he's the Oprah of France, except white and straight). One of the questions is " What's your favorite curse word?" which, by the way, has been omitted from the "personality survey" on the ITAS web site (I'm Gene Motherfucking Hackman, by the way). Sidebar- contextual swearing is also a sign of sophisticated profanity. If I say Gene Fucking Hackman, it sounds sarcastic or unfulfilling, like a cup-muted trumpet should sound, not unlike the sound heard when someone fucks himself at Cliff Hangers on The Price Is Right. But if I say Gene Motherfucking Hackman, it sounds like someone's going to get his ass kicked in the back seat of a '68 Lincoln Continental. And to not make that sound so macho, your assailant would be tastefully dressed in a custom tailored Myer Hoffman of Saint John, New Brunswick suit and a porkpie hat. Anyway, it never ceases to amaze me how unoriginal our celebs are when it comes to swearing. Of course Christopher Walken can make "Heck!" sound as effective as fuck, so we'll just exclude him from this conversation. And I have to commend Steven Speilberg for saying his favorite curse word is "Rats!" because "Rats!" is pretty much the best swear ever. But when I hear bitches like Mel Gibson say his favorite curse word is shit, I'm like whatever, asshead! All celebrities have to do is be a little creative when it comes to profane slang. You can generate a whole shitcart of better swear words by simply adding an adjective as a prefix or suffix. Example: Mel Gibson is a fucking jerk of an actor/director. That's all well and nice, but why not embellish fuck with something? Example: Mel Gibson is a fuck-knob jerk of an actor/director/etc... Fuck-knob is good because knob is a funny word all by itself and shit. Or, if you're not totally into that, how about fuck-slap, fuck-lips, fuck-face, fuck-nut, or even fuck-nugget (I researched this one) . Or, maybe you're even into white-washing fences, Fuckleberry! Another bullshitty thing is when authors of books (whatever.) try to creatively spell bad words so they aren't so shocking. A good example would be Stephen King's use of goddamit, as opposed to the heavily-satanic "God damn it!" As if spelling it differently is going to save your blackened soul from eternal damnation. Another one that authors use often is "sonofabitch," which probably has more to do with economy, than anything else. But still, it doesn't look as good or sound as effective as son of a bitch! Shit. Anyway, I should probably stop writing about this before the heat comes down on my shit. Ifeel so dirty! So, for shits:
TOP 10 SWEARS OF ALL TIME
1. Motherfucker.
2. Dipshit.
3. Ass-bag (interchangeable w/ Ass-hat)
4. Dickweed.
5. Fuck-face.
6. Cocksucker.
7.Bitch-tits.
8.Does cameltoe count?
9.Dickslap.
10.Apeshit.
This list is neither comprehensive, nor exhaustive.

Steady Bloggin'

2006-03-29T14:22:00.000-05:00

Every now and again, I like to take some time out to talk about some jams I downloaded during the week- This week is no exception.....or is it? Wait, no it's not an exception, that just sounded kinda good....or did it? Wait. This week was....fuck it. Ok, so last week nobody really got on my case about Skynyrd, which is sweet- but then again, nobody really reads this, so it doesn't matter a whole lot. Does it? That "does it?" question is a result of me temporarily living with a British. They all make statements and tack on a question. Isn't it? Actually, it's more slangy- innit? Oh, hi....did you see that Cash In The Attic geezer on the telly? He's a bit naff. Inn he?

This week I was full of the Arctic Monkeys. I love it when they pick a band and hype the living shit out of them. It's really obvious when it happens. When I used to work at Off The Record in historic Royal Oak, MI, we felt the Full Bluntal Nugity of the "machine." There was this shit band called Blinker The Star (nice name- they are Canadian) who were the recipients of "the push" back in like 1999. We got a shitload of boxes containing every conceivable promotional item possible- everything from window clings to magnets with lcd lights that blinked to store displays to stickers to kitchen ware to a bunch of other shit that remained in boxes because they sent one every fucking day for a week. And we all know how effective that campaign was. The band just recently(2001) decided that "a big record label wasn't what we're really all about"....an independent label "gives us a lot more freedom to persue our own idiosynchratic form of expression." Now read that last bit again like Val Kilmer as Jim Morrison would. Or wait, better yet, re-read it like Kyle McClaughlin playing Ray Manzarek. Start every sentence off with "Morrison..." and change evey pronoun to "Morrison," or "man." As those of you who know me know, I love it in movies when there is unnecessary formalism between two characters- i.e. Ray Manzarek always addressing Jim Morrison as "Morrison," in Oliver Stone's hilarious send-up of Jim Morrison's life, The Doors. And, lest we forget, my all-time favorite- Pollock. When Lee Krasner( Marcia Gay Hardin) says "you've done it, Pollock, you've busted it wide open"! Which may or may not have been true- I mean Lee Krasner basically changed Pollock's diapers, so I guess they could have been weird and formal. I think it might have more to do with it seeming unbelievable and unnatural- the same thing happens in Basquiat when Andy Warhol(David Bowie) keeps feyly saying "Jean Michael....." but overuses it a couple times too many, Jean Michael.
Anyway, The Arctic Monkeys. They're not bad. They're not great. It took England approximately 5 years to get their own Strokes (not that there's anything wrong with that), but now they have them. Yay. Or, er, cheers! Or maybe I'm way off- the Libertines might have fit that category better. So England finally got their Libertines without the junkie assholes.
The Arctic Monkeys- A Certain Romance
Ok, first off, The Arctic Monkeys is a horrible band name. Second-of-ly, who was in charge of the font and logo? Step into my office. You're fucking fired. Thirdly, this is a great song. If you can get over the "classic Reeboks" lyric, you're home free. I hate when actual products get mentioned in songs- not that it's a plug or anything- it just kind of trivializes the other lyrical content....if there is anything worthy of non-trivialization. It could be the reference that dates the song. I mean it's sort of like if Ludacris referenced Air Force Ones....wait. Bad example. How about if the Kinks referenced Coca-Cola. Oh, I see. How about Little Richard referencing Rolaids. It just detracts a bit. It might just be that this band is a bunch of shitheads who think they've got their fingers on the pulse of British youth culture. Or, better yet, they think they're actually young, and not a bunch of 31-year old session musicians who's first band, The Polar Chimps failed miserably (cue rim shot). Is thing on? You heard it here first! Anyway, the great thing about this song is that it actually sounds like a young band actually wrote it. Not since Supergrass' I Should Coco has a band sounded so goddamn youth-y, culture-y, and British-y. Innit? Are they worthy of the hype? Not any more than Art Brut, the Libertines, or that other shitty British band. But it's like all my friends said- "I saw them on Saturday Night Live....uh....they were pretty good...I might buy the album."
Yeah Yeah Yeahs- Cheated Hearts
I was under the impression I would like this song and it would "grow" on me. I was also under the impression that the YYYs didn't suck so bad. I was also under the impression that using "YYYs" instead of "Yeah Yeah Yeahs" was a cheap indie music critic crutch. Whatever. Perhaps I should quantify and qualify this. Fever To Tell was a great record. Great guitars, great songs, great hooks. Show Your Boners has poopy guitars, poopy songs, and is, in fact, a poop. What happened? If I want a wussy melodic rock record, I've got the Flaming Lips to listen to. I just don't get it. Do us a favor, before you try to convince your critcs and your fans that you've made a great record, try convincing yourself. Karen O has gone from "fully erect" to "Semi," if I may use the Hustler porn review scale. It sounds like she's phoning it in. there's none of the er, fever to tell us about. The guitar sounds all gay, too. Don't get me wrong, I like the song enough, it's just a good song for another band.They definitely need to fire the producer. It's like what ever happened to Williamsburg art-damage?! Another one bites the dust. Sophomore style.
Band Of Horses- The Funeral
Ok, already. I'm kinda fucking tired of liking Sub Pop bands. It seems like every time I listen to a jam, it's by some band I've never heard of, then like poof! I research the dumb band and they're on fucking Sub Pop. What's up, A&R? Sub Pop has consistently been a hit-or-miss record label- they've had their droughts and such( they actully put out a Chixdigit record), and the levee has broken about twice in the last 20 years, so.... We can't really blame them for all the peripheral grunge, but it is totally and completely their fault I have heard Zen Geurilla at some point in my life- thanks a fucking lot. Anyway, they're all over Wolf Parade, The Shins, and Kelley Stoltz and have all but molested us with Kurt's friend's band....Earth. Apparently, Earth's career has gotten a bit of a, pardon me, shot in the arm, as of late. And I will always hold a grunge for what they did to The Go, by not releasing the now legendary Free Electricity LP. Whatever the case, I'm into the new Sub Pop.
Case in point: Band of Horses. Apparently, these guys were some dumb fucking band I never heard of ( who now garner some sort of postmortem "beloved" or "Genius" status). And strangely enough, they sound similar to My Morning Jacket, yet there have been no blatent comparisons between Ben Bridwell and Jimmy Jame's similar voices- also sounding a lot like the Shins/Mercury Rev/Flaming Lips at times. Which is weird, cuz like you'd think that the guys at Pitchfork would be having a circle jerk over another whiny bitch that sounds like Jimmy James. Funeral, the track I actually bought, sounds like it was recorded in an empty swimming pool- those sound echo-y right? Well, then some sort of concrete tunnel that they use for something. And it is a fucking jam. Like I would have no hesitation playing this in front of a bunch of people. I wouldn't be embarassed or anything. I'd just wait for someone to say "hey, who is this?" and then I'd be all " It's this band on Sub Pop called Band Of Horses," and they'd be like "no shit."

BLACK PENCILS

2006-03-28T11:28:00.000-05:00

Right, so I was in Chicago last week for a career-related conference when my world was turned upside down. I was at an art education conference that they hold every year at various Hiltons throughout the country. I have to admit, it's a little weird getting the lunch buffet knowing full well that I was contributing to the Paris Hilton-Princess-Cut-Canary-Yellow Diamond-Encrusted Dildo Fund. It made the sky darken, the turkey taste metallic and the ranch dressing curdle at the salad bar. But fuck it, I was hungry and wasn't about to go to the Artist's Cafe down the street where all my art-fag brethren were sucking on Marcel Duchamp's Sausage (sandwich). Imagine their surprise and delight when they received a tuna sandwich on a bicycle seat and a case of the Clap- try explaining that one on your expense report. ZINGER! Art history humor fucking blows. Anyway, after lunch, I tried to avoid getting stuck on the elevator with a clown who was dressed up like Vincent Van Gogh. What a dick. It's not like this is the fucking medieval festival or a science fiction festival, or a NASCAR event, even. He was the one prick out of 4,000 who decided to embrace his "creativity" and just "shine" at the conference this year! He must have felt that his standard issue crappy beard/scholarly yet modern glasses/cargo pants/ paint-spattered cross-trainers/clever art reference shirt thing wouldn't quite set him apart from the other art educators. After I avoided that crappy guy, I made my way down to the exhibitor area where they have a bunch of schmendricks who basically give a bunch of free crap away to you to try to land an order. There wasn't anything great- the odd Sharpie, an occasional pair of Fiskars scissors, some new over-hyped gel technology water-based markers....but then it happened. I approached the Dixon booth with full intentions of scoring vast quantities of Dixon Ticonderoga HB(#2) Pencils. Ok, so I have a pencil problem. Someone once tried to get me to join a "I Love Ball-Point Pens" group and I just about threw up all over her face. Ball-point pens are for amateurs. I think whomeverthefuck at Bic who designed the Biro should be put on trial for crimes against elegance. I mean how fucking hillbilly can you get? Promotional pens look better than those things. The only really cool technology that has come with the ball-point is the Astronaut Pen- and that's mostly due to the Space Program being totally fucking awesome. Big ups to NASA. But the Astronaut Pen was engineered so spacemen could use ball-point pens upside-down in space! Hey, governmet: PENCILS ALREADY WRITE UPSIDE-DOWN IN OUTER SPACE. Fisher Manufacturing company did do a nice job on their pen, though.

If anybody knows anything about anything, you can't fuck with the Ticonderoga- it's pretty much the Cadillac of #2 pencils. America's #1 pencil! First introduced in 1913, the Joseph Dixon Crucible Company wanted a name that represented "a fine American name for a fine American pencil." They named the pencil Ticonderoga after Fort Ticonderoga, a military postin New York.
With production of nearly a half a billion pencils a year, the Ticonderoga has become the #1, most recognized, and revered pencil throughout America and the world. Try one of their quality Ticonderoga products and discover for yourself why each and every one of their pencils is the motherfucking whip! I remember seeing Ticonderoga boxes as a youngster and just being floored( in an office supply way) by the illustration of the soldier on the box. Plus, there used to be mystery to office supplies. There wasn't a bunch of Office Depots or Max's around- the internet had yet to destroy Jack White's soul, it was a time of innocence...except for that whole Iran thing. You had to know someone in business to get into an office supply store, and luckily, I knew my dad. It all seemed so adult. I also think I was probably attracted to the Warholian repetition of stacked boxes, but I'd sound like a prick if I ever told you that.
Whatever the case, I approached the booth and just about flipped my wig when I saw the new Ticonderoga Black. The subtle matte finish made a powerful statement. Crafted from reforested California cedar with graphite core. It was like taking your favorite pencil and instead of getting it in school-pencil yellow, it comes in black. And not just any black- the mother of all blacks: matte. If I had to sum up this pencil's aesthetic for you in one word, it would be "striking." It has a long, hard, black shaft... Easy. The tip, however is still standard issue vulcanized rubber eraser (except it's fuck-yeah black) and double-crimped ribbed aluminum with the signature Ticonderoga green bands accenting the classy yet playful yellow bands. Needless to say, this pencil is the pencil to beat out of all the '06 models. And that's what I did in Chicago. The End.

P.S. In Chicago, they have a subway system called the "El." I believe it is called that because of it being primarily elevated, instead of subterranean like other subway systems. And for some reason, the bell-tone that goes off at every stop is the same first two notes Andrew Loog Oldham used in the Rolling Stones' Out Of Time. The Metamorphosis version- not the Flowers/Aftermath version. So every time it went off, I had to finish the orchestration in my head and kick in with You don't know what's going on. You've been away for far too long, You can't come back and think you are still mine. You're out of touch, my baby, my poor discarded babyI said, baby, baby, baby, you're out of time. Which is cool, unless your hotel room is right next to an El stop and you hear it every 15 minutes starting at 6:00 A.M. til about noon. Then it just drives you up the fucking wall. It would be like if you heard the the first few notes to Stairway To Heaven every time you open your car door. I mean Stairway is a fucking jam, but fuck that.

Of Rachael Ray And The Speed Limit

2006-03-20T11:40:00.000-05:00

So, there I was, thumbing through the latest issue of Rachael Ray's new magazine, Everyday With Rachael Ray, at my local Bed, Bath, & Beyond. And before you say anything- I was interested in the "beyond" part- you should see their collection of ancient astronaut artifacts (including a Chariots Of The Gods closet organizer). Anyway, as I was reading about Rachael Ray's philosophies, I noticed that not once did she mention what a shitty tipper she is. have you ever seen her tip? She tips 12% on her $40.00 a day. That means she spends $4.80 on gratuities throughout the day. If it's just breakfast, lunch, and dinner, that tip money is divided by 3, for a grand total of approximately $1.60 per meal. And that's if she just eats 3-square, which she never does, cuz Rach can't ever pass up some party scones after lunch. So divide it by 4. I don't know about you, but it just seems like she could go 15%, now that she's porking Oprah.
So as I was perusing the linens section, I mean Ghost Manifestation Evidence aisle, I started singing along to the music that was on the overhead speaker system. I think it was on what they are now referring to as a "Yacht Rock," station. I caught myself singing along to a most magical number entitled "Sentimental Gentleman" by Bob Welch. It's an old Fleetwood Mac "deep cut" that never "cut" the mustard, in fact, some cheese may have been inadvertently cut instead. Then along comes Bob's solo version (on his French Kiss record), and it's like WNIC's all over it- as omnipresent as Hall & Oates and Gerry Rafferty combined in the soft rock pantheon. You could almost sense Alan Almond's boner when he jammed it Pillow Talk-style. Not really, but it got me to thinking about how dumb music has had an impact on my life (I almost said profound impact, but uh, wait, what?).
When I think about crappy songs, it makes me sad. It makes me sad that I love them so much. But it's usually a little trigger during the day that makes me think of a crappy song. I mean, believe me, if I never heard a Joe Walsh song in my life, I think I'd be ok. I could manage. But, for some almost assuredly divine reason, I know for a fact that his Maserati goes 185. He lost his license, now he don't drive. They think he's crazy, but he has a good time. Life's been good to him so far. I sometimes think of this when the speedometer is approaching 85 mph. I also happen to know that Ted Nugent wants to have you pretend that your face is a Maserati and you should drive it directly into a shitty sexual innuendo:
I'll tell you what you gotta do. You got to pretend your face is a Maserati, it's a Maserati, it's a Maserati's a gettin' hotty. It's a Maserati, Maserati, Maserati. It's a fast one too man, that thing's turbocharged. You feel like a little fuel injection honey? I'll tell ya about it, I'll tell you about it. I'll check out the hood scoopI gotta get that hood scoop off, shine and shine and buffI gotta buff it up, buff it up, buff it up, buff it up, buff it up,Yeah, shiny now baby, heh heh heh You've been drivin' all night long it's time to put the old Maserati away, so you look for a garage, you think you see a garage...Wait a minute, Hey!, there's one up ahead!And the damn thing's open...Hello! Get in there!
I often recall this information when I see European sports cars.
A sagely Sammy Hagar encouraged law enforcement agents to "go on, write me up for 125" because of his inability to adhere to the posted speed limit of 55 mph. He simply couldn't drive 55. And fuck me if there isn't a bunch of 55 mph signs passed on a daily basis. The only saving grace is that the Minutemen had Double Nickels On the Dime, so thankfully I think about D. Boon instead.
OK, I have to admit, Sammy Hagar is a pretty easy target. Especially after that fucked up Mas Tequila thing. Oh, well, once you throw on the mellow top, it's hard to not want to hang out in Mexican resort town bars and champion alcoholic beverages. Spring Break does rule. Even if you're 48. To be continued...........................................................................

The Submarine Races

2006-03-17T14:31:00.000-05:00

Oh, OK, we're on? Hi. I just got done writing the biography ("bio" for those in the biz) for my friends in the Submarine Races band. I thought I'd throw it up here. I mean, I'm not going to throw up here, I'ma post it up here. Sort of like in basketball- what the bigman does. Anyway, they're a great band and you should check their web site out- www.thesubmarineraces.com
Or, you can check they Myspace page. P.S., I do a local radio show called Radio Fever, hence the dumb signature.

Up periscope, sailor! There’s some hot-rocking on the horizon. Submarine Races are a threesome of arty rocker-types from Chicago, Illinois. Started in vain by guitarist/vocalist/explorist Ian Adams (Happy Supply, The Ponys), drummer/seaman Paul John Higgins, and bassist/best mate Steve Denekas (Entertainment, The Countdown), the ‘Races are off to a clean start. Borrowing freely from the entire Easybeats catalogue, commandeering the Modern Lovers’ understated efficiency, and all but sleeping with the entirety of mid-to-late 1980’s twee British guitar-pop bands, Submarine races have managed to make a signature sound that is both derivative and authentic at once! What with the current state of rock music being all apish bravado and emotionally-impaired dildoery, Submarine Races manage to remind us why you put the Pastels on mix tapes in the first place. They also happen to know what a good haircut can do for a young band’s confidence in “the game.” With a handful of jangled melodies, some polite lyrics, and an overabundance of charm, Submarine Races have set the coordinates for your stereo. Let’s just hope they don’t “deep-six” you after your hatch is cracked. Submarine Races debut album, The Submarine Races, was recorded in Chicago at El Goodo Audio and will be released on In The Red Records in June 2006. They even used the sonar recording technology found in the Soviet Alpha Class Diesel-Electric Attack Submarines! No joke. The band hope to sell an immeasurable amount of records, as long as piracy (both on the internet and at sea) is kept at bay. Nevertheless, Submarine Races’ popularity is surely surfacing - supporting top acts such as The Dirtbombs, Maximo Park, and the Sights in the first week of their existence. The ‘Races reputation for rocking and passionate live appearances has lead to consistent attendance at many of their subsequent headlining shows. While they aren’t “jamming,” members of Submarine Races enjoy making out, necking, hanging out at sailor bars, and watching Steve’s VHS copy of Das Boot. - The Wolf "Radio Fever" Saturday Nights 8pm-11pm WKRK 97.1 FM, Detroit