Frodo Form 10-28 and videos.

Maybe size matters, because I have the new GTA game for the PSP and I can’t play it on end like I can other games, likely because of the size of the handheld. I know I will be sucked in, but the going is kind of slow. Plus it’s a return to the great city of GTA3.

The rule with tits and dicks are as this: Size doesn’t matter; but bigger is better.

But it’s on such a tiny, tiny screen. You can go see the system. He’s the polar bear… with little tiny feets.

On Gwen Stefani’s Luxurious video.

Steve: Is she trying to appeal to black audiences?
Me: She’s just trying to appeal to every culture.

I still don’t like ringtones of other people. Only because they reveal way too much of a person’s style. I don’t care for you if you have Pussycat dolls or 50 cent as your ring. WOW. You are listening to the radio. (Clap. Clap. *pause*, clap). But I can say that nothing weird out people like my Black Velvet ringtone. And I love it.

To all the ND or anti SC fans, Leinart still would have made it in even if Bush hadn’t pushed him. That was destiny. Still the highlight of my year.

2 years later, I will rank SSX 3 of one of the best games of all time. Not only does it capture the feeling of being on a ski mountain, it envelops you in it. SSX on tour is pretty gd good, and I say this after 16 hours in 3 days of play. But there was something about 3 that was like GTA 3 and Mario Brothers 3. You could play with the sheer joy because you had no idea what you were going to do next, and every option was rewarding.

Now a video review:

All time videos #8:

Nirvana – Smells like teen spirit.

In Spin’s recent 100 best albums since whenever, they ranked Nevermind behind Ok Computer #1 (the right choice) and Public Enemy’s It takes a nation #2, with Nevermind being #3. Except for #2 being wildly out of place not because of content, but because of Spin’s endless attempt to be urban, two of those were dead on. My #2 for the decade would either be The Bends or Automatic for the people or Loveless (My Bloody Valentine). And if you are going to nod to the rap community, Doggystyle and the Chronic are good go-to selections, but Ready to Die is the only real choice.

But I digress.

The review of the album hinted to something I never knew or realized. The album is not a grunge album outside of it’s means. It’s produced and recorded like a rock album; and more specifically, a rock album from the 80’s. This is an album mixed like a hair metal album. The content is vastly different, but the delivery is almost the same. The album was a hit because it was different in intent. Yet, it delivered in a way few rock albums since Zeppelin’s 4 have.

It’s not that Nirvana were that much different than Poison or Motley Crue in terms of music style. It’s that they were that much better and they cared about the music; not the fame or results. They simply did what everyone was waiting for after years of the 80’s suck.

They were the rock and roll that we were waiting for.

Grunge is not a genre; it is a period.

Nirvana were the band that finally were able to silence people with quality.

The video stands as a masterpiece not for just what it did in execution, but for when it came along. It tapped into the teenage mindset about music like “Born to Run” by Bruce did. It’s the whole, this is who we are, and this is how we want to live mindset. Bruce was all about finding who you were in an era with a lack of national identity.

Nirvana came out with a song and a video that proclaimed: This is who we are. This is the new way. And we are sick of what you think we are.

It’s not just the performance theater of the video in the gymnasium. It is that everyone in the band seems to know what they are doing to take this idea to it’s finish. I know that Cobain hated this video. I also know, that if not for this video, Nirvana would be The Replacements of the 90’s. While the rest of the video catalog of the band tried to reshape and counteract how they were acting in the video, it stands as one of the landmark events of time where a group of people made the hard choice.

They are able to sell the song as performers. That’s where their involvement ends in the video. It is the director who got it right. The video is about teenage riot, and if the director did the Sonic Youth video of “Teenage Riot” first, Nirvana would still be unknowns.

The video captures the unleash. That moment of pure rebellion against the Status Quo. The moment when they really aren’t going to take it anymore.

As it stands, Smells like Teen Spirit looks less like a group of people reacting to a live act which hit them at the right time and when they needed it most.

It feels like a baptism.

(continued...)

Let's go exploring!!!

I owe most of my sense of humor to the Zucker-Abrams trio, Alan Meiss (http://www.aaaugh.com/meiss/humor.html), The Simpsons, and Gary Larson. If not for these and other scattered media, I would likely be watching Leno.

I owe all of my musical devotion to Radiohead’s Ok Computer. If not for this album, I would have never cared about anything post 1975. And had I bought Rage Against the Machine instead of this album in January 1998, I would likely be a much different person. (I still remember the person I was with when I bought it (Brad Dick) and the place (the now defunct Waves music in Keystone Crossing in Indy), and the movie we saw after (Good Will Hunting).

I owe my view of my relationships to my parents. For better or worse.

I owe my unflapping hope that good will overcome to Lucas, Spielberg, and 80’s cartoons.

Yet, I don’t know if I owe the whole of my personality to any one text more than “Calvin and Hobbes.”

I remember being truly heartbroken when I was looking over the last single strip of the clips 10 year run, with the line “lets go exploring!”

For the better part of my middle school and high school year, I read the collections of Calvin and Hobbes every night before bed.

I bring this up because the LA time has begun to run the strips again. Looking at them next to the rest of the page is like looking at modern sitcoms vs. Arrested Development.

There is just something that takes it to a higher level.

Perhaps the most powerful thing about Calvin and Hobbes is that it was made in what was a traditionally child geared medium. It was a strip that was fun for kids because of the notion of an imaginary friend. With the added bonus of The Far Side, it was enough to draw the elder crowd back to the comic page of the paper.

The strip worked on a emotional dichotomy that few texts have ever achieved. It was about the glories of being young; yet, the main character had a vocabulary men would kill for. It was a frank discussion of real life problems, balanced with grounding in a world that no longer existed for most of the readers who could understand. It took you as the reader back; and at the same time it made you question where you were now.

The fact that it was about children was all the more wonderful (and I mean wonderful as in my post about the movies about 2003: http://ineverlovedyou.blogspot.com/2004/03/in-reqiuem-for-2003.html), it was a text that reminded you of the glories of being young. The ability to believe that those things that adults know are impossible (bed bugs, aliens, and imaginary friends) can still be possible for those people whose beliefs have not been tainted by experience.

There is something wonderful about the ability to cherish the communal. I read Bill Simmons because he not only gets what it is to be a man in your 20’s- 30’s, but because he is able to perfectly illustrate the major concepts. I don’t mean this on a high level. I mean this on the lowbrow end, which Simmons is truly not.

It is one thing to have a diary of what it is to be 19. It is another to dissect it into a level of generalized or specific statements, a la philosophy. Which I am not discounting, by any means: it is that when it comes to relation to a time in one’s life, and not the ultimate actions, one has to understand the minute. Any look at life (yet not the lessons), has to come from an angle of experience, not of supposition. Philosophy works because it focuses on the whole of a life’s angle; the flaw (and something no one can ever do) is that is provides tenets, not paths. Maybe that’s the distinction between religion and philosophy; one tells you how; the other tells you why. Neither really work, but at least philosophy teaches for the worse and hopes for the better.

I bring in Simmons because he has a way of relating to male tropisms in the way great comedic movies do. His columns are close enough to men’s real lives; they echo the idiocy of our faults and puts the blame on the external causes. From women, to sports, to videogames he is able to put the reader in the mindset of their life (which is benefited from the fact that his readership is almost certainly around 98% male and in their post-formative years). I doubted Simmons’s talent for a while, thinking he was merely a composition of male intellects you knew growing up, but formed into a singular voice. But his talent is exactly that, yet doing it on a level that always surprises. He still is that guy who makes you laugh by pointing out foibles of a guy on deck, or bringing up a movie quote at exactly the right time. Yet, he knows his voice is a persona; it’s relatable because it’s familiar. His balance and saving grace is that he doesn’t truly admit it; that his voice is only a skew. It’s not his real life, it’s his take on the familiar.

Simmons is a lot like Watterson in this aspect; they both rewrite a period of one’s life with a distant, and usually sarcastic edge. Both understand and are able to capture what it was to be at a certain place in one’s life.

Both do their philosophizing; and both are usually on.

The difference is that one will still hold relevant as you grow on, while one seems to be of a dissident era. We all realize that we need to grow up.

This is perhaps the greatest shame of humanity; it is that we are taught to fall in line with the culture before us before we can question our own reality. It’s almost natural in terms of human growth. And it’s a shame. As soon as we feel we are accustomed to life, we start to look for problems instead of things that should amaze us.

Which is why I tend to still return to Watterson more than I do Simmons, and more of the reason I resent his retirement. One of the constant themes of the strip was Calvin’s escape from reality. We had Stupendous Man (which is a great theme about men wanting to be more than who they are) Spaceman Spiff (a lot like the same, but in more obvious exploratory terms), as well as Hobbes, who represented a world of friends we could trust---and believe in—and keep them in our life.

But above all, I still think of Calvin’s obsession with dinosaurs. The idea of something that once was. A greatness of which we revere because it may never will happen again.

I remember a part from my first screenplay. It was all about how the characters (all men 16-18) would choose seeing a dinosaur or alien over having sex with a supermodel. Even though I am biased on the introduction because it was my work, I still stand by it because it’s something I still kind of believe in; that I would eschew something for my future for the ability to see something from my wildest dreams as a child.

In my list of things I’d like to see or have happen in my life the list is:

7. SC winning a national title
6. Seeing the Pacer’s win the finals
5. Seeing the Colts win the Super Bowl
3. (Tie) Meeting and marrying the love of my life
3. (Tie) Seeing the US men’s soccer team win the World Cup
2. Seeing the Cubs win
1. Seeing a dinosaur or an alien.

And I think that’s somewhat due to Calvin and Hobbes, but I don’t discount it.

For the duration of 4 or less strips a day, and even more so in combination, Bill Watterson was able to address something childish in our lives. He was able to tap into the universal selfishness and wonderment of what it was to be a kid. The notions of “why can’t things happen my way” paired against “why are things needlessly complex when they shouldn’t be.”

I promised myself when I was 15 that I would never ever discount the beliefs of a kid under 14, or disregard what they are saying because I knew better.

They will learn the course of my beliefs soon enough. And they will probably treat the past as a fallacy of immaturity or lack of knowledge. Which is sad, because they are likely more right than I am wrong.

I think we all know that we have become too partisan to one side or another to admit that the simple idea doesn’t work.

But Calvin and Hobbes reminds of a time when it was so simple. And Watterson, better than anyone before him, understood that maybe the kids have it right, because at one time or another, we understood the world without sides or intricacies.

Philosophy is for the individual. It’s a respect for the trials.

Calvin and Hobbes was for the child within us that is buried. It’s a question of why; with the knowledge of the problems to come. For a little bit, we were able to relish in a time that was not more simple because we didn’t have the weights of adult life, but because we didn’t care to know about anything more than the wonderful.

(continued...)

Just Off The List

Okay, so truth is that I have nothing new, interesting, or intelligent to say... this is a reprint of one of the funniest things I've read, ever. Courtesy of Tobias Funke, Analrapist. Enjoy.

Hi, I was a somewhat surprised that Pitchforkmedia.com would ask me to participate in this. Here's why:

"The devastating paradox of David Cross' pre-recorded comedy: Is it funny that everything Cross says is nauseatingly smug, yelped out in smarmy, supercilious prose? Or is David Cross just a giant fucking asshole?"

"That Cross is such an immensely unlikable live performer-- condescending, defensive, arrogant, patronizing-- is both his greatest asset and his most crippling flaw."

And while the above review of my second cd It's Not Funny is certainly more thoughtful than, "David Cross? Yeah, he's funny" or "He sucks", it's still a bit shitty. "...immensely unlikable"? The paradox is "devastating"? How is it devastating?

And that's just one reviewer, Amanda Petrusich.* There's another one, William Bowers, who claims to: "...having developed a strange, extra-textual concern for David Cross. Likeminded futon-psychoanalysts fret over his fluctuating weight, his fitfulness, and despondence..."

Fretting over my weight? Oh well. But regardless of their opinion of me and/or my act, they've asked me for my Top Ten List®, So here is my contribution to the Top Ten List® For Pitchforkmedia.com

Top Ten CD's That I Just Made Up (and accompanying made-up review excerpts) to listen to while skimming through some of the overwrought reviews on Pitchforkmedia.com


1) While reading over Pitchforkmedia.com's review for the Arcade Fire, here's a brief excerpt: "Our self-imposed solitude renders us politically and spiritually inert, but rather than take steps to heal our emotional and existential wounds, we have chosen to revel in them. We consume the affected martyrdom of our purported idols and spit it back in mocking defiance." May I suggest listening to Until it Happens/You Let it Happen, by Maximum Minimum. The fourth album (not counting the re-release of the first three 7-inches on HugTown Records) reaffirms the band's status as the godfathers of the Taos, N.M. "crying scene." Like a gilded phoenix rising from the toxic ashes of the death of mercurial lead guitarist, Peter Chernin, Maximum Minimum snarls back like a taunted tiger on steroids (also on acid). RATING: 8.2

2) While reading the review of Daft Punk's Human After All: "Ideally, the physics of record reviewing are as elegant as actual physics, with each piece speaking to the essence of its subject as deliberately and as appropriately as a real-world force reacting to an action," is a real albeit brief excerpt. May I suggest listening to Elegant Nuisance by ButterFat 100. With this, their second album since signing with Holive Records, ButterFat 100 return to their psychobilly/emo core roots. Let its volcanic rapture overwhelm you like a 19th century hand-woven blanket made of human hair might have done back in the days when they enjoyed such things. RATING: 5.5

3) While reading the review Animal Collective's Sung Tongs.
(Here's a brief excerpt): "'The Softest Voice' layers clear-toned guitar figures upon each other, as Tare and Bear whisper in harmony above, as if singing to the vision peering back at them from the skin of a backwoods creek. The rustic, secretive manner of their voices and the barely disturbed forest around them suggests that whatever ghosts inhabit these woods are only too happy to oblige a lullaby or two. Likewise, the epic 'Visiting Friends' gathers in faceless, mutated ghosts (i.e., oddly manipulated vocalizations from the duo) to hover over their dying fire in visage of nothing better than the tops of trees." Why not listen to As I Became We by Tishara Quailfeather.

The virulent and hermetically sealed pinings of the world's only triple gold selling Native American artist living in an iron lung. It's as if newly dead, and thus still pure angels, reached down into The Virgin Mothers throat and gently lifted out the sweetest and most plaintive sounds man will ever hope to hear in this life. RATING: 7.17

4) While reading the review of Blonde Redhead's Misery Is a Butterfly: "The word 'lush' doesn't quite capture the fluttering whirls of strings, keyboards, and delicately plucked guitar that open 'Elephant Woman'; I'd go so far as to label such enveloping richness of instrumentation 'baroque,' perhaps even 'rococo.'" is but a brief passage. Give a listen to Turndown Service, the forthcoming album by DotCom.com. Hopefully this foray into the electronic sector of the British no-fi/wi-hi scene (with apologies to Dr. Reverend Billy) is only a temporary diversion and not a full-fledged career move for Bix Xhu and friends. With a nod to early Creatures via the Monks, DotCom.com manages to wrench what little empathy one might have for the entire British working class (nothing you wouldn't find at an "Alive With Pleasure" show) and sashays it right up and down Trafalgar Square. RATING: 6.22


5) While reading the review of The Boards of Canada's Music Has the Right to Children: "The incredibly simple melody of the short 'Bocuma' becomes a lump-in-the-throat meditation on man's place in the universe through subtle pitch shifts and just the right mist of reverb. The slow fade-in on 'An Eagle in Your Mind' is the lonesome sound of a gentle wind brushing the surface of Mars moments after the last rocket back to Earth has lifted off." Why not listen to, Only the Proletariat Floss's by Screaming at the Mirror. With a truncated syncopation and approach that rivals only Tosh Guarrez pre "FartFlap", "S.A.T.M" has taken steps to dismantle what was previously only dared mantled by the great Gilda Thrush when she fronted "Cycle Clause". It's as if Genghis Kahn got together for breakfast with Oliver Wendell Holmes and Virginia Wolfe and ordered just a bowl of homemade granola and then skipped out on the check. RATING: 11.-111

6) When you're enjoying the review of the M.I.A. / Diplo album, Piracy Funds Terrorism, Vol. 1. Here's the beginning of that one: "Santa Claus, the Virgin Mary, and Terrence 'Turkeytime' Terrence just got the shaft this holiday season. Why bother with presents? 2005's Tickle Me Elmo was supposed to be a chicken-legged Sri Lankan with so much sex in her self-spun neons you might as well get wasted off penicillin with Willie Nelson at a secret Rex the Dog show." Huh? Check out University of Blunts' Dirty Dirty Dirty Dirty Dirty Dirty. It's like a 505 Groovebox as designed by someone who reads only Braille. Actually, to clarify, only if that same designer got caught in a transformer with Brindle Fly and decided to travel 50 years into the future and bring back what might have sounded retro thirty years from now if the future takes it's more than lugubrious, predictable course. RATING: 4.001

7) Hey, are you reading the review to The Mountain Goats' CD The Sunset Tree": "As one would hope from a songwriter as smart as Darnielle, The Sunset Tree comes from a 19th-century religious song, 'The Tyrolese Evening Hymn'." Why not have the latest Wittgenstein's Mistress CD playing in the background? On Gift Code, WM's latest offering, we find flutes a flutter, strings a stringin' and melotrones a melotronian. In what is likely to be remembered more for its' chorus of "Get on the bed bitch...now!" then it's subtle and rich tapestry woven, (most likely by candlelight) and suffused with an undercurrent of malaise and ennui, the titular track bends, breaks, and ultimately regenerates into a malevolent whirlstrom of angst and twee. RATING: Four Point Six and One Half.

8) Trying to make sense of the review of Autechre, Untitled? It's a one-act play that starts with:
(Sitting in the dormitory room just after class on Thursday, Achilles changes into his gym clothes as his roommate Tortoise bursts through their door in a fit of happiness.)

Tortoise: Achilles, have you seen this?

Achilles: What?

Tortoise: Do you see? Yes? I'm referring to the object, though small in size, quite interesting in stature, I am holding in front of you now.

Achilles: It's a CD.

And ends with:

Achilles: And my point is, if it's driven by form, it's a pretty messy, lazy form-- certainly no more structurally sound than any other software wank music. On top of that, if I'm supposed to "feel" this, to pick up on some obscure metaphysical in-joke, I'm not-- isn't it the job of a good artist to make that shit clear? Either way, it fails for me. Autechre decided to go their own way, fine, you know, just don't expect me to call them "geniuses."

Tortoise: [Sigh] Alright, Achilles, I can see we're going to have to agree to disagree. I'm sorry to have wasted your time.

Achilles: Oh don't worry, dude, just wear headphones when you play that stuff.

(With all apologies to Douglas Hofstadter and Gödel, Escher, Bach: an Eternal Golden Braid, which I'd send you if I had an extra copy.)

Why not give a listen to: Pillow Logics new disc, Treason to Live, a wiry concept album that gives new meaning to the phrase, "Now, I've seen everything!" Ostensibly about a young girl who loses her shoes in a cockfight she mistakenly attends during Thanksgiving 1959, it's really about the universal themes of loss, angst, candy and damp clothing. Taking its cue from the early commercial work of Deloite and Hughey and filtering it through the "I cut myself shaving" piousness of Throm Tillson, Pillow Logic re-works early sock hop chop flop and allows people like me to enjoy enjoying it. RATING: Two T-Shirts and a cup of jizz.

9). Slogging through the review of Emperor X's Central Hug/Friendarmy/Fractaldunes (And the Dreams that Resulted) (sample: "...the aesthetic of Emperor X's recording belies its craft. Homemade and sometimes grungily recorded, the latest record by Chad Matheny's one-man band delivers jitter-- and indie pop that practically gnaws its own arm with excitement") to try to find out if you might like it

Then don't listen to: ThunderPussy When the Wild Birds Sing. You can only shine a turd so many times before it gleans as bright as a six-year-old girl's ass cheek on Christmas morning. ThunderPussy answers the question, How many times does one need to shine a turd before it gleans as bright as a six year old girls ass cheek on Christmas morning? The answer according to ThunderPussy is, 12. 12 is the number of tracks on this cd each one of the same song, "Star Wars!" And they all suck except for the last one which shines just like a six-year-old girls ass on Christmas Morning. It's true. RATING: 4.Point

10). Enjoying the self-referential Franz Ferdinand review which includes the following: "Ryan, that cow is dried up. It's Gordita meat. I've even done the I'm-not-going-to-do-a-concept-review-anymore concept review," I said.

"Hear me out. I'm seeing a comeback for one of your zany characters," Ryan said, making stupid TV-producer gestures with his hands. "I'm seeing the interpretive dancer Santa Schultz, the Revolutionary War soldier Ham Grass, advice columnist Professor Rok, Diapers the glam-loving lab monkey, Justin Davies the bass player of The Hold My Coat, The Bummelgörk, Kelly the Masseuse, Volodrag the Yugoslavian sycophant, Paul Bunyan, Wolfie. Besides, you promised me the Franz Ferdinand review months ago."

Then don't listen to Thar She Blows, the terrible new cd by The Original Apple Dumpling Gang. If you like shitty, regurgitated slop as evinced by the overlauded production team of Dr. Snagglepuss and Oppressor, then you're gonna love this. Daring to delve into his worn out bag of used tricks, Dr. Snagglepuss turns to his old SugarSnaps partner, TreacherousFace ZombieHead, and spits out beats that sound like two dying frogs farting in your face. If that's your idea of an aural good time then you're probably the kind of person that likes early Faust meets pre-post-op Neutron Bitch also meets Blunder (with a nod to Iceland's Achilles Healed) but then a fight breaks out and DNA Groove comes over and separates everybody and quickly escorts Neutron Bitch out through the service entrance where they make love on a pile of day old lettuce (like in the movies). Either way, T.A.D.G. do themselves a disservice by trying to milk some more milk from an aids infested cow called "their old music". All in all it's a big disappointment, but then again if you like aids milk then I guess this is for you. RATING: 2.shit

(continued...)

One of the loves of my life

Watching the White Sox win game 2 of the series I was amazed by the game that was. Just fantastic. One of the best of the year.

But.

The White Sox should never win a world series for what they did in 1919.

And so I sit here listening to Harry Caray sing "take me out to the ball game" at the first Cubs game ever played at night.

The Cubs are what Baseball is about. They are what pure love is about. Never will there ever be a man as great for a baseball team as Harry Caray. I grew up listening to the guy.

Watching this Series is almost like torture. I hate the Astros. I would have hated the Cards being there even more.

But the White Sox.

Why can't this ever happen for the Cubs?

It's not even for my personal stake at this point. I want the Cubs to win it for Harry, the man who was just like us, who stood by a team of losers always hoping for the best.

It's been Seven years since he stopped broadcasting. But I think this is how his life is now:

"Now, you tell me, if I have a day off during the baseball season, where do you think I`ll spend it? The ballpark. I still love it. Always have, always will."

In short, if the Cubs ever win, I might as well...

But short of that...

Where Lou still starts
And Babe still swings
Where Johnny still sees
and Leo still screams
Where Don still throws
and Mickey still hits
Harry still sings

Original Poem by Mike Stoker


I hurt for the Cubs now like I did in 2003. Maybe love isn't enough. Wait til' next year...

(continued...)

Dave spends some time in front of the TV with a computer:

MTV hits:

Watching TRL after Carson Daly is truly terrible. It's like the cubs bullpen, where the star moves on or gets injured and they have the struggle to find a couple sets of arms to fill three innings for 162 days.

And the trial fails miserably.

We now have a Cali style white male; the douche-bag who always wears ties to school, but does so with a faux punk counter like a wrinkled short sleeved collar shirt or is never seen without a polo shirt with the popped collar. Basically, the sober frat guy who still thinks he's cool. Like most of the guys on Laguna Beach.

His high moment: Asking Jessica Alba to teach him to make out on camera. And they say shes not a great actress.

The pacific rim girl of indistinguishable origin who is trying to find a line between peppy and tough. And winds up being that super annoying girl who tries to be the center of attention by being loud and annoying and fails because she has no personality.

And two others who come on from time to time, just suck.

Two videos:

My Humps: Black eyed peas.

When pitching the song, I'm guessing it went like this:

Will.I.Am: ok. I wrote a song I am sure that would be a hit.

Fergie: Am I in it?

The other two: Are we in it?

Will: Yes. And not really. The problem is it's only 80 seconds long.

Producer: instead of writing more, lets just say every line twice, and some three or four times. That will get it to a normal length.

Group: You think that will work?

Producer: Hey, if you can finally sell out with Where is the love, you guys can do anything.

Anyway, so the song is terrible. But it's also somewhat dumb, in the kind of single that is American pop. Which means it could be kind of fun and should have a great, dumb, over the top sexual video.

So, what does BEP do? They go out and make one of the most self serious videos outside of Tony Yayo and incubus.

In a song that should have a video that is winkingly kitch, you think that they would at least smile.

But no, it's clear the BEP's don't know what the hell they are doing.

I mean:

Fergie is dressed like a Jewish princess from 1984. Naturally, that doesn't make her remotely sexy.

And the boys are dressed like immigrants who have learned all of their fashion knowledge from mob films. Like Persians and greeks in America. Or the cast of growing up gotti. They look like three wild and Crazy guys.

-who are sitting on a warehouse of cardboard. they buy it at 16 cents per pound in a ton and sell it for 16 1/2 cents.-

This should have been a first ballot vote for furious masturbation theater.

Instead it's like the Magician's Alliance. Showmen with little talent who "Demand to be taken Seriously"

Second is the new Mariah Carey video.

The last one she was so photoshopped it was painful. She looked like a china doll that belonged in Susan's collection.

Shake it off is a rotten song, but one that is taken from bad to rotten because of J. Dupri, with interjections like "watch this" and "I like that part"

Let the woman sing. It's the same technique that hurts Biggie's work, a high pitched nasal producer who chimes in to make sure the audience doesn't give as much credit where it's due.

But as you guessed, the video only shows Mimi in profile. Her cans keep getting bigger, and she is still on a warpath against men after Tommy Mottola.

Hey, at least she's consistent.

but I am recommending this video, if only for the resurfacing of Chris Tucker. Who has been MIA since Jacko's last video.

In three seconds, he gives 100000%.

On Comedy Central.

Jon Stewart is doing his best to show the ridiculous theater around the Miers nomination. When three of the highest Repubs are ripping her, you have got to be curious.

This is how terrible partisanship has gotten. Seeing that everyone still remembers the Michael Brown fiasco, I am still shocked how people are still sticking by their sides when the result has only one outcome. I mean, she isn't a judge, never has been. Brown wasn't an emergency manager. Never will be. They only knew Bush or someone in his admin.

He got it right with Roberts. And there was normal gamesmanship along party lines. But the show does a excellent expose on the fact that BOTH sides are looking at Bush and going: "Another one of your friends? What have they got on you man?"

But really, Daily show got this dead on,

Like they always do.

The Rock was guest. Raising the question; How bad is Doom going to be. Je-sus.

On to the short takes for a bit.

On HBO with inside the NFL.

First off. I think it's important to know that both my friend in his best man speech and Bob Costas have used the word shennanigans in important situations.

There isn't going to be a bigger bust in the 2005 draft than Pacman Jones. Both Manning and Palmer have absolutely taken him apart. But hopefully he stays around if only because of his nickname and his wonderful reactions after he messes up.

I wish it was Jacksonville who was in the sex scandal instead of the Vikings. If only so we could call them the Shag-uars.

Late night with Adam Corolla

They are showing old commericals. On comes one of the old Kool Aid Commercials.

Adam: "how pissed would you be if you were the Ice rink owner."

They go on: I wish you could do this in real life, just go to a location and yell "kool aid!!!" and wait for the guy to run through wall. "how do you like my new kitchen. It cost $70000."

"KOOL Aid."

*Smashes thru wall*

Back to the MTV channels:

Fall-out boy, Dance, Dance:

Some on needs to shave the sideburns on the singer, as a fan, i know it could only take one loser to make the sideburns uncool. And the guitarist just licked his guitar. this is how gay our American rock and roll is getting. I get closer to pulling an "Airheads on K roq and putting Jonesy on the air, and also allowing me to force everyone to listen to Drive By Truckers. it's not like the audience would change the channel.

And for god's sake. How long until all American Musicians let go of the 80's movies. For rappers, it's scarface. For Rockers and failed boy groups (Fall out boy, Bowling for Soup, BSB, Chemical Romance -side note, Ghost of you, not bad, video and song)it's all about John Hughes films.

Until all of them are on coke and the russians come back to power, this needs to stop.

50 Cent, PIMP:

The video has been on for ages, but now thats its been a while, this may be the best beat in 10 years.

Comedy Central:

Of course South Park is going to nail the hurricane and global warming better than any. I wish I had seen this coming. Just genius. ironically, just as Cartman and Stan are taking a joy ride on the boat, a series of tornados just took out LA on cinemax.

Of all that is wrong in that movie, they did make the smart decision of not showing life in Canada. Can you imagine?

It's snowing, ya?

Ya, sure. Whats the fuss aboot?

It's really snowing hard though.

Should we call the mounties?

Do we still have beer?

Yes.

No on the mounties then.

Anyway...

Just really nailed the whole: it's not important to save the people, we have to place the blame.

On one of the late night channels:

A sorority is threatening to buy a girls childhood home. Important to note, none of the girls in this videoplay are under 30.

To ESPN Classic.

5 reasons you can't blame Steve Bartman.

This is just pure torture that I can't even explain. I still remember my text message to my friend Mikey, the best man who used the name of the restaurant with all the crazy crap on the wall: No, jesus. No.

It kills me to this date.

And the truth is. Bartman isn't the real reason they lost. He's the only goddamned reason. AHHHHH

Important to note I still watch heartbreaking games which ruin my next day's mood continually.

To the NFL Network.

Its game of the week and it's Colts vs Rams.

I have a new highlight of the year.

Manning on the highlight singing lets get it on on the sidelines of the Colts win.

I can't believe it, both of my football teams are undefeated.

And thats good enough to end on so I can go back to porn and MTV.

(continued...)

Coffee, Black.

A hero. The man of the week... month... maybe even man of the season. Calvin peeing on Calvin. Always a positive outlook on life: Ya Dim Sum, ya lose some!

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Sometimes, it's better live

Can you hear me
Hear me screamin'
Breaking in the muted skies
This thunder heart
Like bombs beating
Echoing a thousand miles

Mine is yours and yours is mine
There is no divide
In your honor
I would die tonight

Mine is yours and yours is mine
I will sacrifice
In your honor
I would die tonight
For you to feel alive

Can you feel me
Feel me breathing
One last breathe before I close my eyes
This suffering
For receiving
Deliver me into the other side

For you to feel alive
For you to feel alive
For you to feel alive


Foo Fighters.

The difference between men and women.

It comes down to competition. It is something born on the fields of playgrounds. Men play football and soccer and basketball and baseball. And they do so everyday, they will compete, and they will do so for the rest of their lives.

My friend Mike Peluso: After watching this, I just don’t get why people don’t love sports.

I was with him. I just don’t get it. And this was a big point of contention with one of my favorite girlfriends. She wondered why I cared so much about the Pacers. She was miffed for any reaction when I was completely done emotionally after the 03 Pacers lost.

It’s clear you aren’t on the field. But you know that. It’s about trusting people you don’t know. It’s about faith. And not the good kind of faith; the faith that is almost drug like in it’s tendency. It’s erratic, its more likely to make you depressed than happy, and it rolls like no other.

But Sports are it. It’s the competition. It’s the lifeblood for many, but beyond that, it’s about living a struggle we wish we had. Next time you talk to a sports fan, ask them what they would rather have: unlimited success or a championship.

The answer they give will tell you whether that person is a dick (the former) or a person you would want to know the rest of your life (the latter).

It’s not just about allegiance. It’s the stage.

As Hamlet once said and I often reference:

The Play’s the thing.

It’s off in pure metaphor, maybe, but it strikes a point even if it’s lifted for meaning.

You know what? Better yet is Vision Quest.

Go watch the movie. The part about Pele. It’s not what the end result is, it’s what happens in-between. In the 48, 60, or 90 minutes or 9 innings plus that matters. It’s what happens within those minutes.

In Vision Quest, he called it seeing the proof of god. It was Pele’s bicycle kick that did it for him.

The thing is the thing. It’s about how it transpires. In the end result, one can always take solace, but when suffering the midst, it’s something history books can’t reclaim. It’s the feeling of being in the struggle of it.

In the moment for the end result is what men are about. We need a way to prove something about ourselves.

Either love, faith, passion, or devotion. Take one of the four. All of those are which men who love sports would line up for.

And it comes to the SC and the battle they had with Notre Dame on the 15th of October. I could simply relate the fact that the game put me in an emotional state I have never been in.

But that doesn’t do it.

This win was better for me than the 4th and 5th games of the 2004 ALCS, when the Red Sox came back from the impossible. I wasn’t as tearful as I was after game 7 of that series when they won, but I was on another level. I was wobbling for 2 hours after. My legs were jelly. My heart was about to explode. When I was calling my friends, my hands didn’t want to stand still.

I didn’t prove myself on Saturday. I may take only fan consolation that I liked the team that won.

But…

I know that I was part of something bigger.

I was completely involved in what should be known as the best College football game of all time.

It’s not that you should care about the result. You should recognize what happened in those 60 minutes.

Those who know competition get it. Even those who don’t like the teams. This is about putting everything on the line.

If only for a matter of football, one should get what it’s all about.

It’s about faith and love.

It’s about wanting and feeling you are part of something else.

Competition is about the fight. It’s about the struggle.

It’s about life for men; if you don’t want to line up for the honor of others, than what else is worthwhile.

Fight for it.

Never leave a man behind.

Always try for glory instead of the easy path,

No man likes the easy path. No real man wants to take it.

Live by the sword…

In the honor of tradition:

For the pure love of fighting for it; for the love of competition.

For that, I would gladly die tonight.

(continued...)

It Italy, it would be pronounced Miami Vice.

miamivice

He's got the hair, I've got the flair!

If you know david and I, then you may know the tale of Crocket and Tubbs. Even before we really knew each other, we kind of fell into these rolls - wing men, some would say, maverick and goose (but less homo-e), king and duck... but we were unmistakably the 80s answer to Kate & Allie (but more homo-e). Whether it be amber alert antics with doe eyed frosh chicks at an Unwritten Law concert the first week of school, or boardroom meetings on top of a washing machine in a dank alley, we did it with class!

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Qwerty

I look around and I see the strongest and the smartest men who have ever lived... and these men are pumping gas and waiting tables.
Chapter 19, Fight Club. Chuck Palahniuk

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