BRITNEY SHEARS
The Murder Mystery brings the third Velvet Underground album to a grinding halt. Voices to the left of me, voices to the right of me...
The one line I’ve always loved, though, is this: “Shaving my head’s made me bolder.”
I’ve done it twice myself.
I did it last summer before a trip to Japan, because I knew I was going to be met with stifling heat and humidity, and I was determined to stay cool.
The only burden turned out to be an aesthetic one, and a series of baseball hats helped succor my vanity.
The other time was four or five months before I left my previous job. It was not exactly a cry for help, but it was a clear assertion that I found myself in need of a fundamental change.
And shaving my head made me bolder.
Razamatazz, Brit. Razamatazz...
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
I GET MY ADVICE FROM THE ADVERTISING WORLD
But I do have to say that Cesar dog foods’ use of I Think I Need a New Heart by The Magnetic Fields totally sold me on their product.
In fact, I am going to the local puppy mill tomorrow to pick myself up a yippy little lap dog, just so I can feed it Cesar gourmet meals.
Because my manpurse-friendly puppy will deserve only the finest: porterhouse steak, filet mignon, pork tenderloin.
Yip yip yip...
But I do have to say that Cesar dog foods’ use of I Think I Need a New Heart by The Magnetic Fields totally sold me on their product.
In fact, I am going to the local puppy mill tomorrow to pick myself up a yippy little lap dog, just so I can feed it Cesar gourmet meals.
Because my manpurse-friendly puppy will deserve only the finest: porterhouse steak, filet mignon, pork tenderloin.
Yip yip yip...
Monday, February 26, 2007
BALLS TO YOU BIG DADDY
Dear General Motors,
I appreciate that you’d like to sell me a Cadillac. Heck, I admit I’m even a little flattered.
My grandfather owned a Caddy back in the day. It was stolen from in front of his house in Queens Village one night in the mid 70s. Oh, don’t worry GM— the story has a happy ending. Seems it was boosted by some kids for a relatively painless joyride. The nice officer who wrapped up the case was even kind enough to show me how the car had been hotwired.
But I regret to say, it’s not going to happen.
So that money you spent on licensing The Pogues’ Sunnyside of the Street didn’t quite close this particular sale.
However, I do give you points for choosing to highlight the following lyrics in your TV spot:
“And I saw that train, and I got on it
With a heartful of hate and a lust for vomit...”
Mad love,
sliced tongue
Dear General Motors,
I appreciate that you’d like to sell me a Cadillac. Heck, I admit I’m even a little flattered.
My grandfather owned a Caddy back in the day. It was stolen from in front of his house in Queens Village one night in the mid 70s. Oh, don’t worry GM— the story has a happy ending. Seems it was boosted by some kids for a relatively painless joyride. The nice officer who wrapped up the case was even kind enough to show me how the car had been hotwired.
But I regret to say, it’s not going to happen.
So that money you spent on licensing The Pogues’ Sunnyside of the Street didn’t quite close this particular sale.
However, I do give you points for choosing to highlight the following lyrics in your TV spot:
“And I saw that train, and I got on it
With a heartful of hate and a lust for vomit...”
Mad love,
sliced tongue
Friday, February 23, 2007
CHIMPAN-A TO CHIMPANZEE
Tiny random thoughts on a Friday afternoon.
-You can do worse when driving straight into a blinding sun on the Beltway than listen to Wig Wam Bam by Sweet.
-Headline from today’s Post: For First Time, Chimps Seen Making Weapons for Hunting. We’re doomed, folks. Flat out doomed.
-Also in today’s Post, macrocephalic Family Circus girl to grandma: “Do caterpillars know they’re going to be butterflies, or does God surprise them?” Again people— utterly fucking doomed.
-But I can at least amuse myself with the notion that there will one day be a chimp Britney. I am pleased by this mental picture.
-Hope There’s Someone by Antony and the Johnsons is a tragic and beautiful thing. But I’ll be damned if I can find a way into the rest of the disc. Does that make me a bad person?
-Would Apeman have been a bigger hit for The Kinks if Ray had not insisted on slurring that “The air pollution is a-foggin’ up my eyes” so that it sounds exactly like “The air pollution is fuckin’ up my eyes”?
-Speaking of The Kinks, the liner notes (by John Mendelsohn) to The Kink Kronikles are one of the few must reads in the whole genre. Definitely worth the squint to read in CD-booklet form.
-The most absurd liner notes I’ve ever seen in CD form are the list of credits for The Avalanches Since I Left You. One day, our chimp masters will mock us for sure…
Tiny random thoughts on a Friday afternoon.
-You can do worse when driving straight into a blinding sun on the Beltway than listen to Wig Wam Bam by Sweet.
-Headline from today’s Post: For First Time, Chimps Seen Making Weapons for Hunting. We’re doomed, folks. Flat out doomed.
-Also in today’s Post, macrocephalic Family Circus girl to grandma: “Do caterpillars know they’re going to be butterflies, or does God surprise them?” Again people— utterly fucking doomed.
-But I can at least amuse myself with the notion that there will one day be a chimp Britney. I am pleased by this mental picture.
-Hope There’s Someone by Antony and the Johnsons is a tragic and beautiful thing. But I’ll be damned if I can find a way into the rest of the disc. Does that make me a bad person?
-Would Apeman have been a bigger hit for The Kinks if Ray had not insisted on slurring that “The air pollution is a-foggin’ up my eyes” so that it sounds exactly like “The air pollution is fuckin’ up my eyes”?
-Speaking of The Kinks, the liner notes (by John Mendelsohn) to The Kink Kronikles are one of the few must reads in the whole genre. Definitely worth the squint to read in CD-booklet form.
-The most absurd liner notes I’ve ever seen in CD form are the list of credits for The Avalanches Since I Left You. One day, our chimp masters will mock us for sure…
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Thursday, February 15, 2007
LOVE OF INDICATIONS, PARTS 1, 2, AND 3
I wrote this on the drive home tonight.
JOHNNY RAMONE
Have you seen this band The Thompson Twins?
They're not even twins.
All this British shit,
All this British shit.
It's not like when we were kids,
With Spencer Davis and T Rex,
Spencer Davis and T Rex.
This is a '66 Topps Willie Mays,
And it's in mint condition
It's hard to find in mint condition.
It's hard to find in mint condition
Because it's number 1 in the series,
And number 1's tend to get damaged
By rubber bands,
Yeah, rubber bands.
And it's unusual for the number 1 card
To be a star
In the 60s.
Usually number 1's are league leaders.
Yeah, league leaders.
I bought it at a Gloria Rothstein show
In White Plains,
Yeah, White Plains.
And Subterranean Jungle is up to 83
On the Billboard charts.
Yeah, 83.
83, 83, 83, 83,
83, 83, 83, 83...
I wrote this on the drive home tonight.
JOHNNY RAMONE
Have you seen this band The Thompson Twins?
They're not even twins.
All this British shit,
All this British shit.
It's not like when we were kids,
With Spencer Davis and T Rex,
Spencer Davis and T Rex.
This is a '66 Topps Willie Mays,
And it's in mint condition
It's hard to find in mint condition.
It's hard to find in mint condition
Because it's number 1 in the series,
And number 1's tend to get damaged
By rubber bands,
Yeah, rubber bands.
And it's unusual for the number 1 card
To be a star
In the 60s.
Usually number 1's are league leaders.
Yeah, league leaders.
I bought it at a Gloria Rothstein show
In White Plains,
Yeah, White Plains.
And Subterranean Jungle is up to 83
On the Billboard charts.
Yeah, 83.
83, 83, 83, 83,
83, 83, 83, 83...
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
INDICATIONS OF LOVE, PART 2
My wife would prefer it if I were still a practicing punk.
She’d like the Pogues to pogo off the living-room walls, Nirvana to grace the Odyssey, The Clash to rattle the kitchen...
I mean it, man!
I don’t think it’s about aesthetics. I think she just finds the mutability of my passions to be a little disconcerting.
It’s as if life would hold one less little puzzle for her if my musical taste had ossified the moment we met. If my passions could have remained fixed...
But they have, dear. They have.
My wife would prefer it if I were still a practicing punk.
She’d like the Pogues to pogo off the living-room walls, Nirvana to grace the Odyssey, The Clash to rattle the kitchen...
I mean it, man!
I don’t think it’s about aesthetics. I think she just finds the mutability of my passions to be a little disconcerting.
It’s as if life would hold one less little puzzle for her if my musical taste had ossified the moment we met. If my passions could have remained fixed...
But they have, dear. They have.
Monday, February 12, 2007
INDICATIONS OF LOVE, PART 1
We went to a birthday party for a couple of kids yesterday. It was at a gymnastics studio.
My wife and I were sitting on a folded tumbling mat, and over the PA came Funkytown.
About 10 or 12 feet away from us, a couple of dads entered into a conversation.
“Man, this is an oldie. I’m embarrassed to even say that I know it.”
“Yeah, me too. When did this come out, like 1982?”
“Mmm, 1982, uh-huh. Can’t remember who did it.”
One of them grabbed a large, nubby sky-blue ball, and began bouncing it. The other drifted over to the parallel bar, where his kid was leaping in vain to grab hold.
My wife looked at me, and did not say a word.
“1980. Lipps, Inc,” I replied...
We went to a birthday party for a couple of kids yesterday. It was at a gymnastics studio.
My wife and I were sitting on a folded tumbling mat, and over the PA came Funkytown.
About 10 or 12 feet away from us, a couple of dads entered into a conversation.
“Man, this is an oldie. I’m embarrassed to even say that I know it.”
“Yeah, me too. When did this come out, like 1982?”
“Mmm, 1982, uh-huh. Can’t remember who did it.”
One of them grabbed a large, nubby sky-blue ball, and began bouncing it. The other drifted over to the parallel bar, where his kid was leaping in vain to grab hold.
My wife looked at me, and did not say a word.
“1980. Lipps, Inc,” I replied...
Friday, February 09, 2007
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
HYSTERICAL AND USELESS
Damn you, music of the late 90s.
I have so much relatively new music over which I should be obsessing, and you keep throwing these distractions in my path.
First it was In the Aeroplane Over the Sea. Now OK Computer has poked its head through the crusty winter ground like some 10-year cicada.
I've been particularly obsessed with Let Down, and quite specifically this: “One day I am going to grow wings/A chemical reaction...”
Um, yes.
And hell yes.
And fuck yes.
Yes.
Damn you, music of the late 90s.
I have so much relatively new music over which I should be obsessing, and you keep throwing these distractions in my path.
First it was In the Aeroplane Over the Sea. Now OK Computer has poked its head through the crusty winter ground like some 10-year cicada.
I've been particularly obsessed with Let Down, and quite specifically this: “One day I am going to grow wings/A chemical reaction...”
Um, yes.
And hell yes.
And fuck yes.
Yes.
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
KLAXON, KLAXOFF
Heard a dumbshit band named The Klaxons today.
How dumbshit, you ask?
The song I heard, Atlantis to Interzone, actually built its hook around the sound of a klaxon.
Of course, this shifts straight into sublime genius if they have a klaxon sound in every one of their songs.
I mean, just think about how much less The Alarm, say, would have sucked if they had an alarm sound in every song.
“Come on down and meet your maker BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!”
“Sixty eight guns will never die, sixty eight guns, our BEEEEEEEEEEPPPPP!”
"I-I, love to hear the rain in the summer time, I-I love to AND IN LOCAL WEATHER, THE CHANCE OF PRECIPITATION IS 60%.”
You have willed yourselves the opportunity to be extraordinary, Klaxons. For the love of Lava soap, don't fuck it up...
Heard a dumbshit band named The Klaxons today.
How dumbshit, you ask?
The song I heard, Atlantis to Interzone, actually built its hook around the sound of a klaxon.
Of course, this shifts straight into sublime genius if they have a klaxon sound in every one of their songs.
I mean, just think about how much less The Alarm, say, would have sucked if they had an alarm sound in every song.
“Come on down and meet your maker BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!”
“Sixty eight guns will never die, sixty eight guns, our BEEEEEEEEEEPPPPP!”
"I-I, love to hear the rain in the summer time, I-I love to AND IN LOCAL WEATHER, THE CHANCE OF PRECIPITATION IS 60%.”
You have willed yourselves the opportunity to be extraordinary, Klaxons. For the love of Lava soap, don't fuck it up...
Monday, February 05, 2007
Friday, February 02, 2007
RUN LIKE A VILLIAN TO THE SUPER BOWL
I'm going to take a brief moment away from the usual music content to give my annual, highly anticipated Super Bowl predictions.
I don't want to tout my touting too too much, but thousands of people have made millions of dollars by following my picks. No shit.
So, this year's matchup seems pretty even on paper.
The favored Virginia Squires are of course led by the record-setting quince-pence Finster, who can sling the gherkin like nobody's business.
But you better believe that those Rochester Lancers can answer the bell. Everyone recalls that pitch back in June where it seemed certain that the Butte Trundlebucks were going to overtake the Lancers. But then the Lancers festooned the cork on three consecutive possessions, and, well, by the end of the sixth quatrain they had hoisted the Bag O' Mud and Rapturous Joy high over Tertiary Stadium.
So I'm going to say, take the Lancers in an upset. I think they'll probably juuuust squeak it out and win by a chaucer, but win they will.
For my specialty bets, I'd go with the Squires to marinade the first pay phone, and I think their designated speller will upset the first apple cart. Look for the Lancers' Billings to matriculate the first whistlepig, while his counterpart Shoney will surely be the first to wear the kelp.
Goddam, am I excited!
Rah.
I'm going to take a brief moment away from the usual music content to give my annual, highly anticipated Super Bowl predictions.
I don't want to tout my touting too too much, but thousands of people have made millions of dollars by following my picks. No shit.
So, this year's matchup seems pretty even on paper.
The favored Virginia Squires are of course led by the record-setting quince-pence Finster, who can sling the gherkin like nobody's business.
But you better believe that those Rochester Lancers can answer the bell. Everyone recalls that pitch back in June where it seemed certain that the Butte Trundlebucks were going to overtake the Lancers. But then the Lancers festooned the cork on three consecutive possessions, and, well, by the end of the sixth quatrain they had hoisted the Bag O' Mud and Rapturous Joy high over Tertiary Stadium.
So I'm going to say, take the Lancers in an upset. I think they'll probably juuuust squeak it out and win by a chaucer, but win they will.
For my specialty bets, I'd go with the Squires to marinade the first pay phone, and I think their designated speller will upset the first apple cart. Look for the Lancers' Billings to matriculate the first whistlepig, while his counterpart Shoney will surely be the first to wear the kelp.
Goddam, am I excited!
Rah.
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