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"