Death to the Dry Cleaners, Free Wrinkles for All!

That's the title of my new album.

I spilt a beverage on my laptop and now it doesn't go. Hence, my study procrastination postings have been slowing down. Finals on borrowed laptop, super. I'd also like to apologize for my last two posts, they were sexist and not very funny. I promise to make up for it after Thursday, schools out and I have a real hum-dinger I've been storing up. Yes, a, hum, dinger.

Ir-regardless, I thought I'd throw up this piece o' google videography:

(A little premise, Will Leitch is emo-y kid from St. Louis that writes Deadspin.com, which if you have even an effiminate homosexual's interest in sports, and have visited the interweb's series of tubes, you should be familar with him. Big Daddy Drew is one of the chief writers of Kissing Suzy Kolber, which is where I like to steal all of my obscene joke ideas from.)



There is some reaction here and here, but does the crazy old man representing a dying medium have a point? What's going to happen when dick and fart jokes take over mainstream media? Will it become socially acceptable to drop F-bombs within earshot of a little league game, forever ridding college kids of the self-reflective shame of their everyday vocabulary? Will kids in the future have to develop cool new swear words we haven't even thought of? Will the suffix "-kakke" eventually become socially acceptable despite it's sick, sick, and very wrong origin (see, less sexist)?

Will anyone know how to fix my laptop?

Will Blogger let me use a Helvetica font someday?

Will the rest of world join with me against Dry Cleaning's opression?

Newest documentary brings joy to Scorsese, criticism from others

Yesterday, Martin Scorsese released his third rock & roll documentary, entitled “Going away to Spain: the Jane’s Addiction story.” The film treks through all 23 rocky years of the band’s existence in painstaking detail. Perry Farrell laments “man, there were a lot of highs, I mean a lot of highs, but there was also a lot of lows . . . all I can say was Martin was fair. He realized that life sometimes can be so flowers and sausages.”

Asked why the documentary was eight hours long, Scorsese said, “Jane’s Addiction was the quintessential band of this generation. Quintessential. They took the torch from Bowie and just ran with it, all the way to spain. Okay that joke was kinda gay. You’re gonna edit that out, right?” At the release, Scorsese was particularly ecstatic. “You, know, this completes my trilogy. I feel like freaking Peter Jackson. This is my Mount Rushmore. Wait, were their four heads or just three?”

While initially the film brought cheers, the crowd grew agitated after hour two. One angry fan said, “What a fucking joke. Hours 2-6 were just Scorcese playing guitar hero in some basement with Stephan Perkens passed out on the couch.”

Asked if in his old age, he was just living out childhood fantasies, Scorcese responded, “Go fuck yourself! You know whose in my five: Dylan, Richards, Jaggar, Farrell, and the guy whose gonna kick your ass! Yeah, that's right: attitude. Richards taught me that back in the 60's when we were on tour.” Scorcese then proceeded to give a round of high fives to the boys, bumbling down the street, ever now and then taking pit stops to play his air guitar.

Metallica, Day 28: The Home Stretch

Check out my boys from Metallica. Look how cool they are. How fearlessly they command the snakes. Notice the hair, the shades, the attitude. Perfect role models, real men.

Actually I feel like I've had a boa constrictor around my head for the past twenty-something days.

I'm a pretty laid back dude. I usually keep everything optimistic. There's not a whole lot that bothers me. But if I have to hear one more double-bass kick drum solo or another one of The Field's guttural howls, I'm going to to jump through a window and strangle the next woman or child that I see. I feel the frustrations of a thousand Gary Colemans.

Don't get me wrong: there's been plenty of times when tunes like "Carpe Diem Baby" got my motor runnin on the way to work, or times when I'd catch myself humming the chorus to "Low Man's Lyric." I'm not saying that it's altogether bad, but I'm at my wit's end. Here are a few morsels to attempt to give you, the reader, an insight to my April 2008:

1. I haven't had road rage since July 2000. Late last week a gentleman in a Buick Le Sabre cut me off and almost creamed into a young woman in her Mercury Milan. Without thinking, I sped up and got alongside the offender's vehicle and sounded the horn for a full 11 seconds. In hindsight, I would say that my actions were 92% influenced by the fact that "Don't Tread on Me" was playing.


2. My use of racial slurs is up by 4% this month. This follows a nineteen month streak of a consistent decline. I have no explanation for this phenomenon other than my increase in Metallica intake.


3. Due to the clause in our agreement in which we can listen to music that is out of our control, I have found myself out in public more often than I should be -- Just to enjoy music. If anyone needs a list of the restaurants/bars/establishments/ice cream parlors/car washes that have the best music in town, let me know. I can produce a list in a matter of seconds.


4. In addition to #3, I consistently over-react to non-Metallica tunes. For instance, Thursday Kyle and I were in a department store and Seal's "Kissed by a Rose" came on the house music and we were elated; high fives were exchanged. A week or two back I was dancing fervently (in public, by myself) to "I Saw the Sign," as performed by Ace of Base. I can also clearly remember weeping softly to Elton John's "Don't let the Sun Go Down on Me" while enjoying a quesadilla at the neighborhood Applebee's.


5. I am angrier. But it's different than I would have thought. I assume that many people would expect the same kind of anger that I did: the outward, caustic anger that is embodied on Metallica records that is a not-too-subtle backlash against society, upbringing, the common man, and kittens. (Metallica's eighth -- and probably worst -- studio album St. Anger comes to mind. See related video below. barf). Rather, it is bottled anger that weighs on my soul and is like a bowling ball chained to the ankle of my psyche. I'm sure that with enough time on a Metallica-only musical diet, someday I will be in my daily routine, making a phat beat or calling a customer service department to thank them for doing a wonderful job, and suddenly my mind will cleave and a disgusting, alternative personality will emerge, screaming about how I hate tacos and stuffed animals, making crude gestures while dressed like a nun, and with breath reeking of soft pretzels and frozen burritos. This Edward Hyde-esque character will also certainly be Polish.

Almost to the end....

Metallica Experiment Day 27

some thoughts from friday's review session

i was forced to endure yet another law school review session, this time for constitutional law. review sessions are great because everyone freaks out, even though only the dumb/lazy people have reason to. Luckily, it gave me some time to think

First, i was wondering about the status of the rain forest. Is it gone, half gone? what's its status? I remember seeing something as a kid that said that they would all be gone by 2020 and no one would care. Were these people liars or just really, really prophetic?

Next, I was trying to pinpoint the death of rap. i haven't liked a new rap song in at least a year. Surely, someone is to blame, and I'm pretty sure it's fat joe. Maybe, Kyle S. could bring rap's renaissance by killing fat joe, both lyrically and literally



I also realized that I have quoted the Big Lebowski way more in my life than the bible. it then occurred to me how similar Jesus and the dude were. They both wore sandals, had long hair, and relied on the handouts from other people. So now I don't feel so bad


a final thought: maybe life is so flowers and sausages

Sodomize Intolerance...

I thought about getting political, and then I decided C.B. & B. was above that.

My only disclaimer: before viewing this I admit to reading NME on a regular basis and kinda liking Barack Obama a lot.



That's not getting political, that's just getting hilarious.

Youtube, watching Judd Apatow movies so dickherber doesn't have to.

From the Infant Sorrow Myspace page:

Influences	The Stones The Beatles Led Zepplin NIN Oasis The Police
Sounds Like	Nobody Else

That movie has to totally suck, but I will celebrate their totally gay jabs at things I sorta like(d).

A Note from Our Sponsors

Er, my, desired sponsors, enablers, whatever you'd like to call them...

I was thinking man, with this blog we offer not only the growing future value of "blog placement," but with that would come automatic "real-world product placement," which in turn would nourish our interweb popularity and soon feed off our "celebrity product placement," which, is why, I, as a fan of the beverage known as a "greyhound" (1 part vodka, 1 part grapefruit juice, and season to taste), am making this, ONE TIME, NON-REFUNDABLE, merit-based offer to take on the follow two Corporate Sponsors:


Snow Queen Premium Kazakhstani Vodka


Natalie's Orchard Grapefruit Juice (We apologize for only the OJ label, rest assured, Trader Joe's has the Grapefruit variety, Bert).

This is provided of course that both sponsors provide supplies and preferably extensive funds for numerous blog-type adventures. This could easily include logo'd helmets, gun range equipment, foam battle equipment, undergarments, socks and throwaway t-shirts, and possibly private planes.

This is a one time offer.

"It's not sellin out if you're buyin in"

The Only Good Harp Comes in a Pint Glass

That last post is truly amazing. Two things that suck coming together to be a true suck juggernaut. Harps are terrible...Hetfield is worse than Scott Stapp and Kid Rock combined. I would rather listen to Scott Stapp talk for hours about his workout routine than listen to any song from the Black Album ever again. Sorry Brett. I still love you and feel your pain. Hell, I'll go to the Harp fiasco thing with you if you want. This reminds me; I heard on the radio last night that there is a Bach performance just 4 days too late. Right here in our fair city and at the beautiful Basilica. Sauerwein will have by this time devolved back into his knuckle dragging thrice daily jerk off routine.

I went to two baseball games last week and had pretty good seats to both. I have a friend who got a job at the ballpark this offseason. He is a manager for Sportservice and he is a really nice guy who can hand out this unreal free beer/food comp ticket. It's pretty ridiculous when a dude like me can take some unsuspecting female to a baseball game with free tickets and then dump a bunch of free budlight! down her gullet on top of some nice tubed meats and pretzels and peanuts and the like. But is this good enough for me? No. I still have something to complain about. Can't those bastards get a descent brand of mustard for my dog/brat up in that mother!? They stock Heinz yellow mustard, or as I like to call it, yellow garbage soup. St. Louis is a town full of German tradition and heritage. Some of the best sausages in the country are made here. How about a nice brown mustard to compliment these delicacies for those of us who aren't 12 years old or a Supertaster.

I just learned about Harptallica and lost control of my bodily functions

HARPTALLICA: A legitimate project where two Harp players play arrangements of Metallica songs




This rules. My head just exploded. Metallica with Harps!! This is unprecidented and uncanny. This turns the whole experiment on its head. Let me explain:

If you're just joining the blog, you may not have read back on previous posts to know about our experiment, in which -- during the month of April 2008 -- Kyle and I listen to exclusively J.S. Bach and Metallica, respectively. Part of the reason that we picked these composers was that we believed that Bach and Metallica represented opposite ends of the musical (and therefore cultural) spectrum.

Johann Sebastian Bach is a composer who composed during the Baroque Period. The Harp, although it was around in some form for centuries before, played a key role in the Baroque period. So much so that one of the most famous types of Harps is known as the Baroque Harp!!

Therefore, Harptallica successfully bridges the gap between J.S. Bach and Metallica in one step! Incredible. It's almost like Metallica covering a bach song (almost). Apparently Kyle and I are way smarter than even we think.

If that wasn't enough, Harptallica is coming to town! To Vintage Vinyl here in St. Louis! Something is at work here. Something supernatural; divine. The icing on the cake is the date that Harptallica will be here:

April 30th, the last day of our experiment.

I leave you with the press release from Vintage Vinyl webpage:

Harptallica
April 30 5:00 PM

"Harp 'Em All" when
Harptallica plays at Vintage Vinyl on April 30th

What innocently started as a graduate school project has now formed into a real deal band as Harptallica has moved the show from halls of academia to the dives of the rock club circuit. With their MM degrees in hand from the Eastman School of Music,
the mighty harp duo of Ashley Toman and Patricia Kline are Harptallica and are on the road promoting their latest CD "Harptallica - A Tribute". The group doesn't just play the cuts from the Metallica songbook, they attack them. Catch a free taste of Harptallica when they perform at Vintage Vinyl on April 30th at 5:00PM, get a full set that night when they rock it across the street at the Red Sea's The Underground.

ready to get cracked out on caffeine

this year I took a new approach to preparing for finals. for the past two months I haven't had a single drop of caffeine. usually at this point in the semester, the only thing coffee does for me is stain my teeth. but tommorrow, it'll be me, a pot of coffee, and my text on wills, trusts, and estates. I will be cracked out of mind. My hands will shake, my stomach grumble, and I will probably snap at some unsuspecting fool whose not down with spendthrift clauses. But it will be worth it, as I'll cover a bullshit class in about five hours. Intectually, it'll be my mardi gras

Oops!

I forgot to ask, who wants to bet on the Cubs/Cards series this year? After the Cubs won the overall series last year, Lucas Maxwell had to wear a dress in Chicago at my birthday party and fend "pinchy fingers." Any takers?

Thanks, Tennessee.

TJoe, at least that Cubs fan was drinking Oldstyle all day, wearing sunglasses, and having fun with a Sharpie marker - things I still enjoy doing today. How do you explain me having to look at this disgusting human being every time ESPN talks about Tennessee basketball?

one for the new kid

An Indie Album Made Entirely of Royals Trivia

Title: PECOTA

Artist: THE Royals

1. Saberhagen's Mustache (3:04)

2. The Pine Tar Forest (2:27)

3. Hammer'n Hamlin and The Next Babe Ruth (5:08)

4. What the Bow Knows (2:33)

5. Quisenberries in the North Atlantic (2:04)

6. Zie Tri Eisenreich (4:47)

7. Yankee Farm Systems (1:57)

8. One Nine Eight Five (19:85)

9. The Goose The Gossage & The Four (3:29)

10. Tartabull's Rage (7:23)

11. Sal Fasano (2:12)

12. Mullet Head (10:82)


(Ed.s Note: The hidden track on "Mullet Head" is entitled "Storm Davis")

Brett's Previous Life

I was unaware that Brett was actually a re-incarnated 1970s soccer player from New Zealand.

Or, is this possibly a picture form the half-marathon?

**Update for Murphy: I think the dude on the right looks just like Ramsey. And I think you could make an argument that if you let yourself go a bit, you sort of resemble the dude in the yellow (minus bulging thigh muscle).**

my scarlett johansson fixation just went from bad to worse

http://www.rollingstone.com/news/coverstory/19830818/page/24

National Record Store Day

This Saturday is National Record Store Day. According to the web site, "On this day, all of these stores will simultaneously link and act as one with the purpose of celebrating the culture and unique place that they occupy both in their local communities and nationally."

Vintage Vinyl is having a party and so is Euclid Records. (by the way, Vintage Vinyl is offering a tax holiday for the whole day. Interested parties should head down there and pick up Periodic Fable by The Hibernauts, without having to pay Uncle Sam! ...andfreebeertoo... Splendid!!)*

Anywho, I am delighted to mention that on the national level, the band that is kicking off the National Record store day is METALLICA.

The following is an excerpt from the press release:

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE: SOUTH BY SOUTHWEST COMMUNIQUE: METALLICA CONFIRM IN-STORE SIGNING AT RASPUTIN MUSIC IN CELEBRATION OF RECORD STORE DAY March, 14, 2008:

Austin, TX: While here at this SxSW 2008, organizers of RECORD STORE DAY in conjunction with Warner Bros. Records are pleased to announce that Metallica will officially launch Record Store Day on Saturday, April 19th, with an in-store signing and fan meet and greet at Rasputin Music’s Mountain View store near San Francisco, California (www.rasputinmusic.com). The event, the band’s first in-store appearance in nearly a decade, will also celebrate the 180 gram vinyl re-release of the band’s classic albums "Kill ‘Em All" and "Ride The Lightning" on April 15th.

Johann Sebastian Bach could not be reached for comment. A member of the associated press mentioned that J.S. Bach hasn't done anything for the community in years, and was very confident that his album sales have been lower than Metallica's.

Um... not sure what the score is, but I think I'm winning.



*Sorry about the shameless self-plug. I feel like such a whore.

Thanks for the Opporotunity.

Thanks to my old pals Brett and Kyle for inviting me to this orgy of humor and insight. I guess maybe its more of a gangbang. The other day I was eating at a thai restaurant and there was a dish simply titled 'gang' (red or green). Now, this dish as explained to me by the waitress, was a curry dish (thus the red or green option). But in my mind, nearly everything can be tied in to a bang of some kind be it gang or otherwise. So I get to thinking; red=American Indians, green=Martians. Then I get to thinking would i rather be nailed by a gang of Indians or a gang of Martians. I eventually decide on Indians because I have some kind of idea of their stature and their docile nature. After all, they do have something called a peace pipe. With those Martians, you have no idea at all what their game is, what they're bringing to the table (I imagine some kind of pants sheathed light sabre), or if youre playing a home or road game. So I personally will take Indians as long as i haven't been duped into pleasuring the Cleveland Indians baseball club. That Travis_Hafner looks not so gentle. I would also like to congratulate Brendan and his cross-state Royals and their hot start.

Hello, friends.

I want to thank Brett Ramsey for inviting me to the blog. I'll try to provide some wit and socially astute criticism. However, as I'm extremely hungover today this will probably not happen until later.

I would like to share that I put on Ricky Martin in a Polish bar yesterday. I don't understand why I was the only one dancing. :(

CB&B: on the decline?

it's been a week and nobody has commented on the release of Street Kings. hopefully, this is just an oversight and not a sign of things to come

in other news, I'm convinced the avett brothers are this years Old Crow
http://youtube.com/watch?v=QbK761CKLEI

I love Ace of Base

There. I said it.

Get over it.

Cancellation of Saw mini-series raises questions about CBS's commitment to morbidity

In move a described as "mainly political," CBS gave the quick hook to its "Saw" mini-series after only a single episode. CBS executive Ray Romano said the public backlash was just too much to overcome. Romano admitted that even he had to look away during certain moments of carnage. "I hadn't witnessed such tortuous, incessent needling since my last episode with that bitch Doris Roberts." Romano said he was initially intrigued by the mini-series for unorthodox reasons. "The series required casting a lot of lame-ducks, just a bunch of pathetic losers whose only real skill is dying in a painful, but intriguing way. The cast of Big Brother 2 was perferct, and were given the parts as part of their severance packages, which for some reason we hadn't paid them."

The Saw creators weren't shocked by the news. "We thought Dexter was the bridge we needed to get to the mainstream, but I guess the worlds just not yet ready. At heart, we knew we were destined for Spike TV."

Romano fears the cancellation will have a backlash of its own, as viewers will question its commitment to artistically portraying death, hopelessness, ruined childhoods, and molestation. "The people need to trust us. Our commitment to morbidity has never been stronger. Just this week we're airing new episodes of Criminals Minds, Cold Case, CSI: NY, CSI: Miami, CSI: Crime Scene Investigation, 48 Hours Mystery, Cane, Jericho, Without a Trace, the Ghost Whisperer, NCIS, and 60 minutes with Mike Wallace, whose technically a ghost. The people really have nothing to fear, besides eventually dying and maybe molestation."

Bach: Day 12

I work out on Saturday mornings at my school's Fitness Center. I lift weights, do some light jogging, shoot free throws, sit in the sauna (provided there aren't creepy naked old men already occupying it), and swim.

I always swim. It is the most relaxing, and probably best part of my week. Usually I swim one lap in a sort of sloppy, desperate breast-stroke (picture a drunken Ted Kennedy swimming out of Poucha Pond), and then float on my back for the next lap, kicking my legs and thinking happy thoughts.

Today I am floating along with my head halfway immersed in the water, gazing up at the ceiling and ruminating on things like Girl Scout cookies and Panda Bears and snowmen. Happy thoughts. It is peaceful. Life is beautiful.

The radio is on. Although my ears are submerged, through the water I hear an eerily familiar guitar arpeggio. No, no, it can't be. I don't want to face reality, but I must. I must.

I raise my head out of the water in time to hear James Hetfield growl his fatuous lyrics:

darkness imprisoning me
all that I see
absolute horror
I cannot live
I cannot die
trapped in myself
body my holding cell

I am utterly disoriented as the music of Metallica thrashes both my eardrums and my soul. I lose all sense of bearing and crack my head on the edge of the swimming pool. It hurts.

Somewhere Brett Ramsey is laughing.

The quickest way to lose someone's attention

There is an abandoned gas station next door to the building that I work in, and it has been where many employees, including myself, have parked. Today a crew came out to remove the tanks from the ground in order to prepare the space for another purpose.

This afternoon we were marveling at the size of the tank that came out of the ground (as big as a tractor-trailer) and one of my co-workers commented on how rusty it was, saying it looked like "it's about to rust right through."

Upon this comment I casually explained to him that it was not the actual material the tank was comprised of that was rusting, rather the oxidation that we saw was actually a sacrificial anode coating the tank to prevent the tank from "rusting through" while it was buried in the damp earth.

As soon as I started talking I lost my audience. I could see in their glassed over eyes a look of impatience that told me that all they wanted in the world was for me to stop talking. A few backwards steps were taken. When I finally finished speaking, there were crickets. After an awkward pause, everyone walked away.



I guess I need to take "strong interpersonal skills" off of my resume.

Whatever I'm doing, I guess it's working.

In the past few weeks, I've been told three times that I look like Tom Brady. By a customer at work, a co-worker's daughter, and a random girl (all unrelated).

I don't think so. The erie thing about it is that in each of these circumstances it was directly after meeting me for the first time. THEN last night a woman I was so smitten by me that she didn't even talk to me upon our introduction:

"Brett, meet my friend Carla."

"Hi, Carla, nice to meet you! I'm Brett."

**to the introducer, without acknowledging me whatsoever** "ooh, he looks like a celebrity! like a sports celebrity, you know what I mean? Like a celebrity soccer player!"

**I got bashful and thanked her and quickly ran away**

????????????????????????????????????????????

I guess I should make something clear: I understand that sometimes I can appear to have above average looks. But be wary of inflating my already-too-large ego. However, giving me a compliment like that might put a cocktail in your hand.

I just wish I could look like a famous cowboy or James Hetfield. Instead I get nancy-boy Tom Brady and a dude who's picture is next to "Metrosexual" in the dictionary.

i thought only bums jacked off in libraries

http://www.collegian.psu.edu/archive/2008/04/07/lion_denies_charges.aspx

Half-Marathon April 6th, 2008

This past Sunday Kyle and I ran the St. Louis Half Marathon . We made a decision to do it a few months ago, and in the weeks preceding the race it was unclear whether or not we would actually do it.

Cigarettes were smoked. Binge drinking occurred. An arrangement was made between two parties that involved lots of double kick drum.

However, Sunday morning at 7a.m. we were found on the starting line in downtown Saint Louis with tens of thousands of runners, walkers, wheelchair-ers, and water hander-outers.

Now Kyle and I aren’t exactly couch potatoes. Each of us physically works out our bodies two or more times per week, and cross train using a myriad of physical activities to strengthen our muscular and cardiovascular systems. However, we also engage in some activities which may contribute to a deterioration of health (such as unprotected sex with our grizzled eight-fingered neighbor Hank).

Luckily we employed several key strategies to ensure that we would cross the finish line before being swept off of the street. The following are some of the more significant:

1. Drafting. This is a term that is more commonly used in cycling or auto racing. It refers to the method of a racer taking advantage of the slipstream created by the competitor in front of them. The point is to reduce the amount of drag and expend less energy. Of course, this phenomenon has little or no significance with runners, as the speeds are much slower and the vessels smaller. However, Kyle discovered a loophole.

   You see, even without being able to take advantage of anyone's slipstream, Kyle found an alternative, more powerful, natural force: lust. Kyle's "slipstream" was always behind one of the thousands of very physically fit young women participating in this race. Just as Metallica spurs my gonadotropins, so it was that Kyle's slipstream kept him running during the race. I found myself using this same method to great success.



2. Our second method was to make use of our Headpod. This is a term that as far as I know was invented by Kyle Connors. Pretty straightforward, it simply refers to the internal music player in your brain that you can use to listen to music without needing electricity or headphones. Since Kyle and I have no freedoms of music, we were limited to the Headpod. We discussed between miles 6 and 8 that our Headpods have adapted during our April Experiment to include great detail. I was explaining to him that I could tell where the second chair violinist dropped a note during Ray Charles' "Georgia on My Mind," and he excitedly told me that he could tell exactly where, in the introduction to "Can't you Hear Me Knockin'," Keith Richards let out an exhale of tobacco smoke. It's pretty incredible how detailed it is. The only drawback is that you have to have heard the song before.


3. The runner's high. More on this later...

If you’re anything like me, in the past you have probably observed runners casually and thought: I can’t believe they’re doing that. Why would someone punish themselves so? I think I would just get bored after running for so long, there's more fun ways to be in shape, etc.…

Well, for those of you who aren’t runners, it does two things for you: the first is an overwhelming sense of accomplishment like beating level 20 in Tetris or successfully cheating on your taxes (NOT condoned by CB&B)…

The second is the runner's high. And it’s for real. With my background in sociology, I immediately recognized the danger of gathering tens of thousands of Endorphin junkies in one place. Sure enough, they showed all of the signs of addicts: unquenchable thirst, wearing silly clothes, and running in circles. By the time I had figured it out, I was powerless to stop them because I had become one of them. That is some good shit!! Finally I know why there were thousands of people running... they’re all addicts! And I don’t blame them. I’ve never done any hardcore drugs, but that’s the most high I’ve ever felt. I was astonished. And I was really fucked up.

Soon I learned to harness this high. When I begun to run low on Endorphins, I listened to Metallica to boost my adrenaline. Adrenaline led to more running, which led to more bein' high. Awesome. That's what got me through the race. It was a great day for the gentlemen of 3973 Wyoming, Metallica, and the Betty Ford Clinic.

bringing the emo to CB&B

http://youtube.com/watch?v=4nRNYG_xM2U

Morbid Thought

"If I die, who is going to answer my phone to let the caller know that I won't be returning their call?"

Not to be overly grim, but I think about that from time to time and I figured I would let the blogoshpere know how strange I am.

Should I seek someone to fill this position?

Opening Day victory ends epic frown-off

The Dodger’s opening day victory did more than temporarily escalate them to the top of the National West standings. It brought a smile to manager Joe Torre’s face, thus ending a heated 8 year frown-off between Torre and CNN anchor Wolf Blizter.

The frown-off started immediately after the Yankees won their last championship. Torre was approached by Blitzer, who was just “looking for something to do.” “Joe is a close friend, and I thought this was the one thing I could beat him at.”

Torre turned out to be much stiffer competition than expected. “I knew Joe had a thankless, unforgiving boss, but I thought he would smile past that. I thought they'd win a championship.” Joe looked deep inside himself to find the will to keep frowning. Specially, he looked to his prostate, which developed cancer in 2001. Torre laments, “Without the cancer, there’s no way I could have held on as long as I did. It was truly a blessing in disguise.”

Heading into the competition, Blitzer had an unquestionable advantage, getting to report on the Iraq war and racial angst on a daily basis. “Those two were the pillars of my victory. I’m only where I am today because I stood on their broad, hate-filled shoulders.”

But Blitzer admits having used tweezers to pinch himself during human interest stories. “Every time there was a story about a zoo, it was painful. Literally, I was cutting myself. It was disgusting, there was blood everywhere.”

But the toughest challenge came in resisting the sexual advances of reporter Zaan Verjee. “Luckily, she preferred S&M, so I was able to stay focused on the competition, as well as her bodacious rack.”

Asked when he would next smile, Blitzer responded, “I don’t know. The threat level is currently orange. When it goes down to green, we can talk.” While Blitzer admitted that there was a more human side to “the Wolf,” he asserted that his no nonsense demeanor was a critical part of his job. “When I’m reporting about a plane crash, the people watching me at the airport need to know that I am serious: the crash was horrific, lives were lost, and their lives are in danger. That’s the message that needs to be conveyed.”

Bach: Day 5

As I suspected he would, Ramsey from the start has been blatantly fudging his condition to our loyal readers (he's also been fudging other things - namely, his pants!) In an effort to display a more realistic description of his condition, I devised a plan: this morning, after being thoroughly inspired by the third movement of Bach's 3rd Brandenburg Concerto, I sneaked into the slumbering Ramsey's room with a digital camera and snapped a candid photo of him (in an effort to make the act even creepier in the event of his awakening, I removed my trousers beforehand). Luckily, he didn't wake up - apparently the Metallica has already completely dulled his senses, rendering him impervious to outside stimuli! - and I was able to capture a clear picture of the shocking deterioration of a once admirable man. As you can see below, the picture tells a far different story from the one that Ramsey has been falsifying:




Take good care to note the receding hairline, loss of vision, narrow, stooped shoulders, bone-thin hands, and homoerotic bedsheets. The picture itself, however, fails to capture the entire sensory impression. The visual effects are practically unnoteworthy when one is confronted with the pungent, feral aroma that permeates a ten-foot radius around Brett's feet.


Meanwhile, after 5 days of listening to Bach, I have come to the following conclusions:

1. listening to J.S. Bach is like studying for a calculus test
2. I want to stab myself in the face with an icepick

This is incredibly difficult.

But we must remember what the German philosopher Nietzsche wrote: "That which does not kill us, makes us stronger". Then he went completely fucking insane.

Metallica: Day 5

So last night a girl asked Sauerwein a hypothetical question:

"If you were going on a road trip and could only listen to 5 CD's, what would they be?"

The crowd went nuts. Sauerwein was elated. Girl was confused. We couldn't have planned that better. Kyle's excitement took over him and he loudly proclaimed that "JOHANN SEBASTIAN BACH F**KING RULES!"

Right now I'm listening to "The Memory Remains" as performed live at Cuyahoga Falls, OH on July 8, 1998. Hetfield just said something so ridiculous I can't bear repeating it. My major beef this past week was that Jimmy H's vocal inflections have been so awful that it renders some songs unlistenable. **Good God, it's the end of the song now and he's yelling "come-on!!" to the crowd to keep singing the lyrics. It's like desperate anger. Song's over and now it's "Bleeding Me." so intense.** The vocals make you want to think who actually talks like that??!? It's actually worse live, so I fear that "The Field" actually does talk like that, which makes listeners suspect that he's either mentally handicapped or recently suffered a massive stroke.

After a few days of this experiment, we have decided to slightly amend the rules. First off, we have decided that going to music shows is acceptable because 1) they may not return during a non-metallica/bach month, 2) we don't want artists to suffer from this contest because of the lack of our presence, and 3) it's like being in any other establishment and the music is out of our control (we probably would have explained it any way we could've. we're still going to go to shows).

Second, we have eliminated the rule that all music must be acquired before April 1. In spite of the fact that a very thoughtful and impressive individual brought me more Metallica on the 11th hour of March 31st to round out my collection, all of the guys that I've talked to say that my collection is still missing some very critical pieces to the Metallica puzzle. Kyle put it best:

"Anything that makes you listen to more Metallica is good for this experiment."

**Holy crap. The Field just said something to the audience then barked. Not sure if that's the dumbest thing I've ever heard, or if it's awesome and hard core. I'm confused and conflicted now, but I wonder what I'll think of that in three weeks. Can't wait.**

I mentioned eighty-something words ago about talking to guys about Metallica. Ladies and gentlemen, I'm going to let everyone in on information only someone in my position would know: 96.1% of all of the males who share my demographic are once-hardcore or currently-closet Metallica enjoyers. There is something inherently masculine about Metallica's thrash rock, and I could feel it deep in my loins almost immediately after "Battery" started playing. I couldn't imagine girls being really into Metallica. Not that I would judge them, But girls don't seems to have all of the pent-up aggression that testosterone provides. ****"Yessir, King Nothing!!" Wow. That really happened.****

That being said, I would like to update everyone on my current state of affairs. I feel great. I rock in the morning and again when I come home. So far no person or object has been smashed, but I have boxing gloves in my garage -- and I am an animal. The only negative side effects I have experienced are being a little bit more short-tempered with my dad, and breathing a little heavier through the mouth, causing most glass around me to fog up.

On the other hand, I have to shave more often and my bodily organs associated with reproduction and secondary sex characteristics have increased in size and heft. My scores in Big Buck Hunter have seen dramatic improvement. And somehow, without training, I know how to clean an automatic weapon and replace a rear axle in a half-ton truck.

Bach: Day 1

Bach: Day 1

Today I awoke, well-rested, and listened to Bach's 2-Part Inventions on the way to work. To be honest, I didn't really enjoy the music. It was pretty bland, except for Inventio No. 15. I've decided that if I have physical relations with a woman this month, this is the piece of music that will be playing. It's sharp, energetic, and will surely loosen a lady's legs. More importantly, at 52 seconds long it will give me more than enough time to achieve and lapse into post-coital unconsciousness.

One thing I noticed about the incessant Bach soundtrack that will be permeating my life for the next 30 days is the emotional weight it gives to seemingly mundane tasks. For example, today after work I put on Bach's Air Suite while I cooked eggs on the stove; the music gave the scene a heightened sense of drama. It was almost as if I was in a pretentious David Lynch film (in which my bastard alcoholic minority brother was trampled to death by chickens and I am forced every day to choose between getting my protein needs and being haunted by his death). I must admit, there *might* have a been a few tears added to the egg sandwich on wheat toast that I consumed for supper. Maybe.

I also attempted to lift weights to the music of Bach. It was hell. At one point I found myself staring forlornly at a burned CD entitled "Motivation". I knew what was on this CD: Springsteen, the Stones, Elvis Costello, AC/DC...maybe even a little classical, but not Bach; it would be Beethoven or Wagner, the kind of classical music that gives you the sudden urge to invade Poland.

Instead I had to return to Bach's dainty little melodies.

Later in the evening I saw Ramsey. Outwardly he looked normal; however, upon closer inspection I noticed a faint tinge of redness around his eyes and a barely perceptible curve to his spine. In addition, he seemed to be breathing heavily from his mouth. This supports my theory that in 30 days Ramsey's nasal passages will have absolutely no functional value, rendering him a total fucking *mouth-breather!

It will be increasingly interesting over the next 30 days to watch the Metallica slowly disintegrate his soul. I imagine his white blood cells are already working feverishly to combat the poison that he is willingly shoveling into his brain. Soon it will not be enough. I predict that by Day 14 we will see a utterly broken man. Over the last two weeks of the experiment we will be left to observe the slow circling of the drain of a once respectable human being.



*(Ed. Note: click on the mouth breather link. The last sentence under the "Social Perceptions" heading reads, and I quote, "Fans of Thrash Metal are known to be chronic mouth breathers". Ha! That just made my week.)

they don't give us this information on career day

http://hellarity.us/in-bed/