Musical Interests plus Corvoisier VS... OP...
The future of tomorrow is now and forever. Many things happen when one does not accept the present. For inst: the Michel Gondry dvd has been viewen. By me and mine. It is superlative and exemplary in most conceivable ways. Gondry is good. To wit: Eternal Sunshine of that there Spotless Mind stands as the best film of the annum, at fufreaking least. What besteses it? The Chronicles of Riddick?!?! ?
Also not bad: Made-Up
, the Tony Shalhoub/Brooke Adams movie co-produced by my loved one's bosses. And of course Starsky and Hutch
is about as good of a Todd whatever the fuck movie you'll ever find. Much better than Road School.
finfuckingally: got a package in the mail today from my dear friend Jeff "DOA (not S&S)" C. It contained several acceptable record albums, including the latest from Animal Collective, To Rococo Rot, and Les Savy Fav. The near present immediancies shall feature much intensive attentiveness...
I fucking ate some QUAIL....
and some duck...
and I drank some Corvoisier - Corvoisier VS
i love the carpet... the carpet beneath our feets... the carpet what keeps me drunken, and alive...
So the mainstage line-up was announced for Lollapalooza with Morrisey headlining followed by Sonic Youth, the Flaming Lips, Modest Mouse, Polyphonic Spreee and String Cheese Incident. I don't know about String Cheese, but otherwise this looks like an incredibly solid line-up. Maybee Perry Farrell thought that he need some more hippie dudes to balance out the set. It never seems to fail that there is always at least one, if not alot of bands that totally lick balls at Lollapalooza. I remeber the summer before I started high school going to the one in '93 and seeing Alice in Chains, Primus, Dinosaur Jr, Tool and Rage against the Machine, which was pretty awesome. The best part was during Dinosaur's set when everyone in the lawn section of what was then Lakewood started throwing trash and all sort of shit in the air and after about 3 songs the sky was just filled crap being thrown everywhere. Pretty amazing that I didn't get nailed by a spiked collar or a tie-dye Arested Development t-shirt. Looking back it turns out that was Alice in Chains last full on American tour, so I was glad I got a chance to see them before Layne Stayley died. "Dirt " is a great album, I still rock it every once in a while. Just out of curiosity, what were some other folks awesome Lollapalooza memories?
ATL IS THE NEW CAPITOL OF HIP HOP!
DO THA A-TOWN STOMP!
DO THA A-TOWN STOMP!
And you know this MAN!
All of us here pretty much rep ATL strong, maybe except Crog who hates the city but loves the beat! Well pep this fuckin PROCLAMATION: ATL TOOK OVER AS THE MECCA OF HIP HOP! Just bounce to that places like NEW YORK and LOS ANGELGAY!
If you look at the top 20 billboard charts right now ATL owns this bitch. I know this aint the end all say all, but what are the people listening to on the streets? ATL! What is in their blood? ATL! Fool you cant even step to this shit. As we speak:
#1 LIL JON / USHER - YEAH!
#2 J-KWON - TIPSY
#4 Chingy - ONE CALL AWAY
#5 Ludacris - Splash Waterfalls
#11 Usher - BURN
#15 TI- Rubberband Man
#19 Ying Yang Twins - Salt Shaker
Who knows how to party like us? Nobody. Who gets as Krunk as this city? Nobody. Who burns down the damn house like us? Nobody. Who does their damn thang like us? Nobody. Its good to be alive in this city.
I feel sorry for all you other cities.
Praise You ATLANTA!
"Crazy as the Taliban" - US!
So like all of the dudes that write on here, I am a graduate from UGA, but I gotta tell you that I am totally stoked that Georgia Tech made it to the Final Four. Georgia basketball has sucked the biggest dick since Dominique left that no one in their right mind would want to support it. I remember being a little kid and watching James Forrest and Kenny Anderson rip shit up for the Jackets. I also must confess that when UGA beat Tech earlier this year in an incredibly exciting game that I wasn't pulling for the Dizawgs at all. Call me a traitor, I don't really give a fuck. I'll rep my team any day of the week, but GT basketball is pretty ultimate. The only thing they need to do is bring bck Bobby Cremins, he was awesome.
BLACK OAK ARKANSAS
So why in the hell does no one know about Black Oak Arkansas?
As you read this post off of the best damned blog that has ever existed, you are wondering to yourself, is this a city? Was this the city in Arkansas where HBO did their special called "BANGIN IN BLACK OAK?" Showing some ass monkey gangstas who teach the audience how to buy drugs and what STACKIN' is. Of course we all know that Stackin' is when a gang member tells "his story" through his hands. How hard his life is can be easily shown by a flick of his "panky". Little know that the gang community is well gifted in the art of LANGUAGE CREATION. They have created a language similar to sign language where you use your "fangaz" to talk about who you are going to shoot for looking your general direction and having "those fucked up menacing eyes". But apparently Arkansas created gangs and GANGSTAZ and Tec-9s and drugs and baggy clothes and flicking people off and rap and hoop-deez and Gangsta Bitches and Hoes and definitely 40s and having a good time. Who knew.
Well not to burst your bubble yet again, but Black Oak Arkansas aint a hotbed of whitey gang member. Instead, its a band. And probably the coolest southern rock band that has graced not only Arkansas, but the World. They only really had one real hit - the song "BACK DOOR MAN" ("Wham Bam, Thank You Ma'am - HOT DAMN, Back Door Man!") which is probably the best song ever to be about a male prostitute who fucks his clients in the butthole. Strike that "Californication" is pretty awesome too. Anyways these guys were as raunchy and hedonistic as it comes. Beer and kick ass grooves fueled their world. This and their amazing neglect for censoring their redneck tendencies. Here are some of their album titles (probably some of the best ever!): "If an Angel Came to See You", "High on the Hog", "Raunch and Roll Live", "Street Party", "X-Rated", "Live, Mutha", "Race With the Devil", "I'd Rather Be Sailing", and the 1976 classic..."Balls of Fire"!
This band was grossly underrated and deserves to be heard by all those who love getting drunk. They were always in the shadow of Lynyrd Skynyrd, who didnt have the balls to put out songs like "Happy Hooker", "Gettin Kinda Cocky", "Fistful of Love", "White Headed Lady", and "Feet on Earth, Head in Sky". So my suggestion to you is go buy a handful of BOA (short also for Badasses on ACID) records, go buy a kiddie pool, go buy about 90 cases of Natural Light, and stir.
sakes alive, and bless the new new-fangledment, for tonight's my Christmas Eve and my Wrestlemania Saturday all balled up into one glistening glissando of anticipatory arousal. The purest joy of insistent waiting has already commenced, and courses through me like those giant innertubes twirling madly down Thunder River. Tomorrow is the great day, the mystery fun time, when the wondrous worlds of baseball, mathematics, and unrelenting fetishistic nerddom violently collide to forge the protracted orgiastic big bang of the fantasy baseball draft. Tomorrow's draft will most assuredly be a life-affirming eight hours spent drinking with strangers and conversing electromagmagically with friend and foe alike. Tomorrow we all shall drown in the currents of unextirpated enfranchisement like ancient Sumerian kings neckdeep in a harem full of fertile crescents. It is all I can do to force myself to focus past the buzzing din of pleasure eager to erupt out of me, and find some suitable way to wile away the hours between now and my spiritual rebirth. Perhaps Xiu Xiu could tame the inner fury, were I to head to their performance this evening. Maybe instead I could take in that new Charlie Kaufman film. Or perchance I could hoodwink some succeptable young lass into pleasuring me to the point of orgasm. This night is truly an empty bin, waiting for me to fill it with the refuse of my youthful exuberance, all in the hopes of burning through the long dark hours between now and the personal rejuvenation and salvation of tomorrow's fantasy baseball draft. It's morning in America, and I'm gonna live the fucking shit out of it.
Here's something of interest
. I don't care what any celebrity thinks, and I don't care if they feel like spouting off on politics whenever they feel like it. It doesn't effect me in any way whatsoever. What I find funny is how happy the shut up and sing crowd is to publicize any celebrity who agrees with them.
I wonder how Johnny feels about them making light of Dee Dee's death?
We've loved the Ramones ever since the first time we heard them, but we didn't realize guitarist Johnny Ramone was a fan of NewsMax until we read this in the Washington Times in an article headlined "Rebel in a rebel's world."
We shouldn't have been too surprised. James Hirsen's Left Coast Report has noted Johnny's jabs at the Democrats' hypocrisies, and we do recall the punk star's shockingly heterodox comment during his induction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame: "God bless President Bush, and God bless America."
"I said that to counter those other speeches at the other awards," Ramone told the Times. "Republicans let this happen over and over, and there is never anyone to stick up for them. They spend too much time defending themselves."
The 55-year-old retiree says he stays informed thanks to NewsMax.com, Drudge Report, Rush Limbaugh, Michael Medved, "Hannity & Colmes" and "The O'Reilly Factor." And he tries to help others see the truth.
When Stray Cats bassist Slim Jim Phantom recently complained about his tax bill, Johnny reminded him he'd have to pay even more if not for President Bush's tax relief. "I told him he needs to vote Republican to keep his taxes lower ... and donate to President Bush's campaign," Ramone said.
The one Ramones song we never liked was "Bonzo Goes to Bitburg," a shot at Johnny's favorite president, but his unenlightened bandmates outvoted him on that one. Too bad Dee Dee didn't heed the Reagans' advice to "Just Say No" to drugs, because he overdosed on heroin.
Like the Dead Kennedys' "Holiday in Cambodia," other songs of the Ramones are open to interpretation. We figure that:
"Teenage Lobotomy," with its classic if anatomically inaccurate rhyme "Now I guess I'll have to tell 'em/That I got no cerebellum," sums up the failures of America's government school monopolies.
"Somebody Put Something in My Drink" sounds like Teddy Kennedy's favorite alibi.
"Cretin Hop" should be Dennis Kucinich's campaign theme song.
"The KKK Took My Baby Away" might be the lament of Robert Byrd's former rival.
I accomplished one half of a lifelong goal this morning. I got stuck in an elevator at work. Unfortunately there were no pregnant women going into labor on the elevator needing me to deliver their babies for them. Maybe next time.
US vs. DIDDY vs. SHIT
Ok so I'm pretty sure that everyone who writes for and reads this blog is pretty familiar with bowel movements. However is everyone aware of the fact that over the last year Mesmerization Eclipse has been participating in various trials and skill assessments against the one and only P-Diddy?
Well readers, pep this "shit"...
To give you somewhat of a small glance into the nature of these massive mental encounters we have engaged in over the past year (versus P-diddy)...here are descriptions of just 3 of the "Brain Buster Clashes":
1) March 29, 2003 - ATL vs. NYC Challenge 2003: Who Can Hover Above the City Longest?
We totally flip-scolded his ass on this one! We nominated the Darkness to embody the Mesmerization team, and readers - he totally blew our minds when he HOVERED above the earf. We had a video conference set up and Diddy was trying and trying to jump (obviously he had not studied, horrible technique) but he never remained floating for longer than the 1 second worth of air he got. Well when he said "We Aint Goin No Place" he was right. Dark slid into this Indian trance and started mumbling nonsense words like "ful-ahk ah hahhh tutahnken" and "shaq es numero uno"! Crazy CRYPTIC languages! Well, we went up 1-0 when Dark shot up 40 feet in the air and just stayed there for about an hour sending out a violet aura which he says came from the mental image of him shitting on Diddy . WE WIN DIDDY, you fuckin pansy.
2) August 1, 2003 - Nude Tennis Rap-Off!
The question is...who can rap about tennis, wif no clothes on? Not many folks, and sure as hell not Puff Daddy! (What, yeah I called you by your old name...WHAT, bitch! What are you going to do...I know you aint going to beat me wif a Tennis Rap). I took over on this one. "I got this fellaz, I'm going to VOLLEY with him for a while then put him away with an OVERHEAD SMASH of Rap" I told the guys. Diddy started out strong he rhymed Love, with Love - and had one good line "I hit you a serve, let me get in my swerve, apple bottoms in lil' skirts, your shot was a turrrd". I was like, "Damn", plus his big balls (which were sweatin' cause he was nervous) were all out there for everyone to see, since he was naked. I stepped up to the net - disrobed and delivered a dish so tight even Jimmy Connors sat up in his grave and clapped. Example of the flow: "Diddy you gay at tennis". Now that's 2-0 with out even liftin a fanger.
3) 2-21-2004 - Best Mama Cass Impersonation (While Drinking From A Beer Bong)
I wont lie. This was a tough one folks. First off Team 'Zation had a hard time choosing which member to send to the gauntlet. Would it be Elliot who is good at both impersonating Cass and Drinking, or Crog who is slightly less versed in the double chin swing but one helluva drinker. Hmm. We ended up tossing a coin (one with Jesus on one side and Bill Cosby on the other)...."COSBY!" Crog yelled! Unfortunately for him, Jesus was sitting there on the floor just winking. Elliot is to face DIDDY! Elliot started out strong as hell - chuggin and singing hits like "California is Brown" but in the end Diddy just slayed us on this event. He dug up Cass's lifeless body and somehow made a mask out of her skin. He even ended the bit by shoving a fried banana cheesecake in his mouth. Diddy we coincide, 'bout time you got on the board.
So back to the prime and present proposition! BATTLE #4!
March 15, 2004 - WHO CAN RECORD THE BEST RAP RECORD WITH THEIR ASSHOLE WIRED SHUT?
Now we all know about how awesome Kanye West is, and how he almost died in a car wreck thus inspiring him to rap one of his singles with his JAW WIRED SHUT! Well, Diddy your asshole has been making one hell of a stink recently - TIME TO SHUT IT UP! WHO CAN RAP WITH A BUCH OF BMs UP IN THEM? US OR YOU? Rap record...easy. Wired shut asshole...easy. About to be 3-1 up in this..
DIDDY - SEE YOU MONDAY, and if your butthole is whistlin' then we will bring out our stapler!
the mailman done brung me some music videos
NetFlix is as it again. They are eager to please me, and I am eager to be pleased in return. Anyone who knows me will agree that I am a guy who's eager to be pleased. Yes.
I asked Netflix to ask the mailman to bring me these dvds. The mailman drives a black 1991 Nissan Maxima, and is of some sort of Asian or Pacific stock. Whenever we have a package too large for our tiny mailbox, he'll leave it at our door, knock, and run. When Netflix asked the mailman to bring these dvds to me, the mailman agreed.
On Wednesday the mailman brought me the Superchunk dvd, which I believe is called Crowding Up Your Visual Field. I forget what song has that line as a lyric, but I think it's a relatively recent one. Superchunk's never been the most exciting of bands, but their modesty and consistency are commendable, and they have always been imminently respectable. As much as I like their music, however, I've got to admit that their videos are pretty bad. Other than a couple of good videos directed by Peyton Reed (the guy who went on to make Bring it On), pretty much every 'Chunk video consists of shots of the band standing around playing the song interspersed with random nonsense and/or very literal reenactments of song lyrics/titles. An example would be the video for "Fishing", which cuts between Superchunk playing the song on the porch of the drummer's house, the band guzzling milk and eating popsicles on the back of a flatbed, and some scary camo hunter dude fishing and baiting lures. Or "Throwing Things", wherein shots of the band playing in front of the singer's parents' house while people throw things from out of the attic window are broken up with frequent close-ups of the bass-player's knees; knees, of course, figure prominently in the song's chorus. But that's what most of their videos are like, the band just rocking out while some other random person does something vaguely related to the song's title or lyrics. They do reflect Superchunk's laidback, smalltown attitude, and the band's normal dude image, but they're also as boring as a billion Superbowls.
There is one certifiably great music video on here, though, and it's Peyton Reed's "Driveway to Driveway" video. It's well shot, it has a story that's not just a reenactment of the song, and the drummer's portrayal of a dandified fop is some good stuff. Reed's video for "Watery Hands", with David Cross and Janeane Garofalo, tries a little too hard in spots but is pretty good as well. It's pretty weird that a guy who started off making Superchunk videos is now making the Fantastic Four movie. Anyway, other than those two, though, Superchunk's videos are pretty much irrelevant.
Thankfully there's a lot of other stuff on this disc, too. Each band member did seperate commentary tracks, and there's usually two or three commentaries for each video. They don't really say anything all that interesting, but some of them are funny at least, especially the drummer's. There's a documentary called Quest for Sleep that follows the band on a world tour in late 2001; in showing how boring touring can be, it succeeds in becoming really boring itself. The highlight of Quest for Sleep are the fleeting glimpses of former Archers of Loaf bassplayer and occasional Superchunk roadie Matt Gentling. The best stuff on this disc, other than the awesome video-game versions of Superchunk hits used as menu music, is probably the live footage, which makes up most of the "bonus" material. An animated "video" that looks like it was made by some high school kid on an Amiga is pretty awesome. It's also really cool to see a tape of Superchunk's first ever show, if only because of Mac's uncharacteristically big and poofy long hair.
But so anyway, as a long-time Superchunk fan I found this to be pretty interesting overall. Even though the videos are mostly bad, and the documentary is sorta boring, I still enjoyed watching them.
Today was different. Today I approached the problem in a forthright manner. Today I acknowledged my co-workers. I encountered Karl first, and greeted him with a hearty “good morning”, surprising even myself in the process. Flush with confidence and daring, I proceeded to engage the woman in the break room in a bit of conversation, like you see in the movies. I don’t know what her name is; she’s just one of those random people who walk by my cubicle a couple dozen times a day. Traditionally I’d grunt and maybe give her a quarter-nod, but today I did not hesitate to talk to her, as humans sometimes do. I asked if a nor’easter was still headed our way, and she told me no. I was so happy I ate two strawberries. As the lady left the break room she congratulated me on successfully interacting with a fellow member of the human race. I briefly entertained the notion of high-fiving her, but realized that probably would have seemed odd and inappropriate. I walked past my supervisor, Maggie, on the way to my desk, and startled her by saying hello. She asked how I was feeling, and I cheerfully told her that I have bronchitis. I don’t know what impressed her more, that I came into work despite being sick, or that I didn’t completely ignore her, as I most often do. Right now I’m sitting in my cubicle, and I feel kind of good about the world, and my place in it. I talked to people without getting a headache and without worrying over my nervous and weak speaking voice. I was able to say the stupid things people are supposed to say to each other without feeling like a jackass. Maybe I can run for president after all.
What I want to do kindly before I move onward...
Things I care to do in the nearest future:
1) Chase the moon.
2) Toss a flying disc with an ultimate throw in an ultimate game - then observe it fly straight into the sun and incinerate, thus allowing the ashes to fall to the earth and nourish it like the teat of my dirty girlfriend feeding her younger brother.
3) Talk to Jerry Garcia from the afterlife while listening to him strum his golden harp and shoot heaven heroin.
4) Make friends with the Indians from the plains near my house, play hacky-sack with them, trade gambling secrets - then smoke them out.
5) Talk to friends on my cellular phone that i keep in my pants, the ones that I split up the side and used hemp to stitch in new fabric that is colorful.
6) Feel that Rocky Mountain High while on ludes and looking at my healing crystal.
7) Study horticulture with my black light on, write "Let Arms Yeild To Grow" in magical ink that can only be read with the said black light.
8) Make friends with a chimpanzee, play hacky-sack with him, trade cooking secrets - then smoke him out.
9) Ride my two wheeled free love machine to the edge of the mountains then just stare at them for 7 hours thinking about the sacrifices that the Tibetan Monks made for their people.
10) Withdrawal more money from my trust fund at the Boulder, CO Safe and Trust.
My ladyfriend tells me I'm overly sensitive about Leo Frank.
We were eating lunch in an oppressively crowded kosher deli in Brookline on Sunday, talking about where we could have our reception. She mentions the Brumby House in Marietta, the former homestead to the Brumbys. The Brumbys, famous for their chair-making wizardry, were one of the leading families of old Marietta, and at least one of their menfolk is a supposed ringleader of the vigilante mob that strung up Frank in a future K-Mart parking lot. When my ladyfriend mentioned Marietta and the name Brumby the elderly Jewish couple next to us looked over and, I thought, gave us the stink eye. I quickly changed the subject. After we left I explained my concern to my companion, and she told me I was being overly sensitive about Leo Frank. And she's probably right. But when you come from a town that is probably most famous for the lynching of an innocent Jewish man, the official and legal denouncement of homosexuals, housing the final burial place of the mysteriously murdered girl beauty queen, or for an amazing masterpiece of fast food architecture, maybe you have a right to feel at least slightly embarrassed.
Heading Out to the Polling Place
The best part of voting is the free sticker they give you at the end, the one that basically says "yeah, I did my civil fucking duty, how 'bout you?", and challenges non-voters to visit their nearest elementary school and make a difference. But so I wonder: will the stickers up here have a pilgrim instead of a peach? Or maybe a little Nomah?
Ludacris has three houses in Atlanta, two in Miami, and a crib each in LA, NYC, and Las Vegas. Where do you think he's registered? Does he send in a Fulton County absentee ballot? Would he vote for Mitch Skandalakis, were he capable of strolling through the time-stream back to the mid '90's?
"They are not WITCHES, just spoiled little children, out on a lucky streak"
Aieght, I tend to do this a lot. Writing off bands before I really hear them, based on their label manufactured image and how everyone in the free world is latching on to them. I did it with the Beastie Boys after Check Your Head
came out (even though i loved License to Ill
and Paul's Boutique
) which doesn't make much sense. I did it with the Grateful Dead cause they were acid lovin' hippies. I did it with the Sea and Cake and the Velvet Underground, and this list could go on forever. What is weird is how now, these bands that I thought were the fucking worst are on my list of favorite bands. I really dont get it at all.
Well, most recently I was on a kick of writing off all that pompous New New York shit. I still hate a lot of that crap and think most of it is a slap in the fucking teeth to the people who made that town cool in the first place (the Ramones, Television, VU, Talking Heads, Blondie, etc.). Within the last year I would bitch and moan to Darkness about how these illusionists had all the hipsters across the US dressing up, listing to this crap, fingering themselves, then taking pictures of it, then making one of those gay ass buttons with the picture, then bragging to their friends about how TIGHT it looked on their back-pack strap.
Well the cycle continued and again I was most wrong about one band....the LIARS. I specifically remember talking so much shit about them before hearing them, only based on shit that I had read about the men. Well I'll be damned, but everything I have by them has been excellent and I find myself really loving their music. Not to mention they came out with the Oneida split. Fuckin balls rock. Well that was all fine and dandy until they released their new record....They Were Wrong, So We Drowned
. This record is probably going to be my favorite record of the year. I bought it 4 days ago and I have listened to it probably 10 times (not one of my exaggerations/truth expanders). Subject matter: Witches...Me: Boner! This record is totally FUCKED and I cant get enough of it! A lot of the reviews have said that it is a noise record, which is slightly true, but doesn’t even shine light on the fact that there are amazingly crafted songs under layers of non-guitar sounds. They have really pushed themselves this time and what shows is a record that will keep you enthralled for the full length of time it is on your turntable. I saw that Rolling Stone gave it a 1 star or something and I plan on writing a letter to them, inviting them to shove a boot up their ass just like the American Way. Their writers are gad-damned donkey fucks if they think this is a bad record. Actually they just didn’t understand it at all, the reviewer was probably scared in the corner with his thumb us his ass. Mojo gave a respectable review, but somewhat missed its magnitude. I suggest all who read this to go buy it right now. You will absolutely not be sorry. In fact you too will get a boner (or titty hard on).
O'Reilly's on Luda's ass again...
O'Reilly's harping on Anheuser Busch for signing Ludacris up as a spokesman for their True Music campaign. He's angry that Ludacris raps about carrying loaded shotguns, beating women, and using drugs. He's angry that Anheuser Busch is supporting Ludacris in debasing the culture. He's comparing it to a company using John Gotti as a spokesman. Apparently O'Reilly can't tell the difference between rapping or singing about illegal and unseemly behavior and actively committing crimes. I've never heard of Ludacris being convicted, or even accused, of anything. I guess, to O'Reilly, talking about breaking the law is just as bad as being the leader of the largest organized crime family in America. [commence sarcasm] Of course rapping about pot is equivalent to orchestrating dozens of murders and controlling the Northeast drug trade. That makes perfect sense to anyone but the most unfeeling and hard-assed of secularists. [end sarcasm] I wonder if O'Reilly similarly thinks actors who commit crimes in their films should be held accountable for their actions. After all, the example set by O'Reilly's film partner Mel Gibson in, just for example, "Payback" is at least as harmful to society and the culture as Ludacris's music. If Luda shouldn't be able to pitch beer, in O'Reilly's view, then Gibson, and Sean Penn, Anthony Hopkins, Harry Connick Jr, Lee van Cleef, and every other actor who's ever acted out a crime on screen, shouldn't be allowed to do much of anything.
Personally, I think the lyrical content of a lot of rap music is pretty horrible and offensive, and not anything children should listen to, until they are intelligent enough to realize that it's all part of an act, and not a serious representation of a valid lifestyle. I enjoy some of Ludacris's music because it is humorous and entertaining; a lot of his lyrics are awful, of course, but they don't make me want to run out and smoke dope and abuse my ladyfriends. I do those things because I like them, not because Luda tells me to. Geez.
O'Reilly is an astounding dipshit. He's trying to get Andy Rooney fired because of what he said about Mel Gibson and that Christ movie. Andy Rooney's like a thousand years old. Despite how ridiculous and petty it is to pick on an octogenarian, nobody should be surprised that O'Reilly is doing it.
So, in summation, it is my position, and my most heartfelt belief, that Bill O'Reilly has debased our culture far more than Ludacris ever could. Thank you, and please, remember me in 2012.
Astonishing Weekends of the Most Magnanimous Majesty: Music Videos Can Be Okay
I have never encountered a Tivo. That might be the final tops, but right now, as far as my personal experience has carried me, I would declare that the finest and most convenient way in which recent technological developments have impacted my televisual infotainment is through the bounteous beauty and beauteous bounty of the august Netflix. Never again must we walk across the street to the Videosmith and endure their lackluster service and ever-malfunctioning products. Never again must our most fervent hopes be dashed upon the cold hard rock of reality when our preferred titles have already been checked out. With Netflix, we sit. And wait. And the movies come to us. And OH! what movies they be!
Among our most recent rentals was a certain DVD containing the work of music-video director Spike Jonze. Mr. Jonze has cultivated a stature of no little repute through his clever, inventive, and often extraordinary short films. Many of his greatest hits are present; “Buddy Holly”, “It’s Oh So Quiet”, “Praise You”, and, of course, “Sabotage” can all be found on this collection, alongside lesser known pieces made for the Chemical Brothers, Fatlip, and others.
Okay, I’m gonna drop the forced old professor voice now, and just give it to you straight, like my man O’Reilly. Let me just say that, as good as most of these videos are, this DVD is just as notable for the number of videos that are omitted. Where’s the video for Ween’s “Spirit of ‘76”, or Elastica’s “Car Song”? Hell, I know Tenacious D and Pavement have their own DVD’s out, but you’d think the folks who put this set together would have been able to get “Wonderboy” and “Shady Lane” included. The fact that over half of Jonze’s videos are missing from this collection, including some rather famous and impressive bits of work, downgrades the overall quality of this DVD.
It is interesting to hear the artists speak on the commentary tracks, but it would have been nice to get some thoughts from Jonze, as well. And finally, the short films on the b-side are generally pretty good. The film about the young rodeo hopefuls, Amarillo by Morning
, was particularly great. Overall, though, they could have done a better job with this here thing. Yessirree.
Gotta new thing
up at DOA
: a review of a "Live in the Lobby" style cd from Carnegie Mellon in Pittsburgh. It's like that cd WUOG put out, but considerably less terrible.