P.S. Sorry about your face...

but how many times do we have to tell you you can't sneak up on the Vice President like that? Alright, I know I'm a full day behind the news cycle on this but Blogger was hassling my photo-posting abilities and Jon Stewart is right, this shit is too easy. Too. Many. Jokes. Cant. Decide. Which. To. Use.



But seriously, are you checking these badboys out? Not only did Cheney totally shoot an old man in the face with a shotgun, he's got his own customized sideshooters! The firing pin glows blue and the engraved initials look like some King Richard-shit.

Just so's you know who did it to ya, son.

Those sure are some cherry pistols, mister.

Anyway, my favorite thing from this whole episode is not being able to stop picturing Vincent Vega shooting Marvin in the face in Pulp Fiction.

Cheney: "Oh man, I shot Harry in the face!"
Hunting Buddy: "Why the fuck did you do that?"
Cheney: "Well, I didn't mean to do it, it was an accident. You probably hit my elbow or something!"

Cheney calls Condi for help:

Cheney: "I don't wanna hear about no motherfuckin' ifs, Condi. All I wanna hear from your ass is, You ain't got no problem, Dick. I'm on the motherfucker. Go back out there, chill them niggas out and wait for the calvary which should be coming directly."
Condi: "You ain't got no problem, Dick. I'm on the motherfucker. Go back in there, chill them niggas out and wait for the Wolf(owitz) who should be coming directly."
Cheney: "You sendin' the Wolf?"
Condi: "Oh, you feel better, motherfucker?"
Cheney: "Shit, Negro, that's all you had to say!"

If someone with halfway decent photoshop skills would like to take a swing at making the pictures above resemble the new actors I'd be happy to publish the results. I think I've gotten out of my system all I have to say on the matter. I'm going back to reading Lonesome Dove now.

Well, I shot a man in Texas...

1. Dick Cheney: Texas Ranger
Could have been worse, at least he only got the guy in the face, neck and chest. Lucky for Mr. Whittington that the Veep has extensive medical personnel with him at all times, including an ambulance on-call that follows him wherever he goes. All I can think of though is that scene from Wedding Crashers where Vince Vaughn gets it in the keyster. Wonder if Dick saw that movie. Probably not.

2. Make Your Own Super Mario Blocks
Pac-Manhattan is cool. But seeing one of these blocks hanging around town would totally make my month. I'm making this my new project. Will post pictures of process and final deployment soon. I am Wario and I'm-a-gonna-win!

3. Fake is the New Real
DW Griffith was America's first great director. The Washlaska voting block. Z is for sleep(ing). Everything I need to know I learned from this site.

Aaaaaaaaand, we're back (wooooootwooooooot)

1. Variety Shac's latest short. If I lived in NYC, I would totally try to date each of these women, at the same time, using different fake moustaches.

2. Of the 3 things I expect to find in Heaven:

a) A Grateful Dead concert held at
b) Hugh Hefner's mansion with
c) A bottomless tub of gummi worms

2/3 have already come together here on Earth. Hey Tom Banjo, make with the gummis.

3. More laughs and hip-hop, courtesy of Jean Grae and Spinach, here

Does anyone else hear that?

Super Bowl weekend in NYC has apparently sapped my brain of all its creative impulses. Multiple boroughs, multiple bars, multiple trains, multiple ATM stops, little sleep. I'm distracted by bright lights and quick movements happening just out of my direct field of vision. When I close my eyes, this happens.

I promise to resume normal blog activities once I regain full use of my frontal lobe. Thank you.

- Management

MoveOn...til the Break of Dawn

1. MoveOn doing what it does best: droppin $100,000 dolla bills to put their Nixon-morphing-into-Bush ad on CNN over the next three days. Frames the debate and puts the call for a special prosecutor into the middle mind. God work, dot-commies.

2. Speaking of the internet, Gore didn't invent it...Tribe Called Quest did. This revelation only occured after seeing their 1991 video for Scenario again recently. Tell me that doesn't look like some Windows-Mac World hybrid shit. Plus, has anyone ever come closer to a pure expression of Hip Hop than "ROWR ROWR Like a Dungeon Dragon"? Answer: Nope. Keep yer eyes peeled for Fab Five Freddy in the moshpit, giant bra-wearin fly girls and Phife in a Roseanne Roseanna-danna wig.

3. Talkin all that Jazz, Stetsasonic. The HipHoppers Strike Back. As long as we're taking a video trip back in the day, I'd like to share another one of my all-time favorites. This song still sounds as dope as the first time I heard it and strikes a blow for the anti-intellectual property rights crowd at the same time. Make sure to listen to the lyrics, including the uptight, repressed white guy in the beginning. Words for Life: When you lie and you talk a lot...people tell you to step off a lot. Damn, I could write a whole essay on this track. Someday.

3. More from the "Oh shit!" file: Classic hip-hop drum samples. Like Ragu, it's in there.

4. Random 1: The list of the 25 Senators opposing Alito. File this away for future reference.

5. Random 2: As if Jon Stewart hasn't gotten enough props already, he's totally down with Slash too. Crazy

National Hangover Days

If I were President, these would totally happen.

Yuck.

If I were President, every citizen would be granted the daily right to vote on whether to declare that day a National Hangover Day. A day when the entire country would be allowed to just say "Fuck It", unplug their alarm clocks and pull the covers back up over their heads to sleep one off in blissful peace. There are just some nights when it becomes clear it will not be in the national interest for you to go to work the next day.

Man down. Save the beer.

We've all been there, buddy. Here's how it would work:

Every bedroom in every home would come equipped with a special government-issue nightstand featuring a special button implanted in one of the upper corners. Each nightstand's button, when pressed, would automatically send a signal directly to the White House indicating another vote for a National Hangover Day to be declared. Taking into consideration the potential for abuse of the system, each nightstand would be replaced annually and would cease to work after five uses, or "buttonpushes", whichever you prefer.

Little help?

Every day, I would gather my Cabinet ("Good morning Secretary Nader, Secretary Gibbs, Secretary Makarowski") in the Oval Office around 7:30am and await the daily tally of citizens requesting a National Hangover Day. There would be a "magic number", derived daily from various cultural and economic indicators, that, if reached before 8am EST, would allow me to gleefully pick up a bourbon-colored phone and direct the operator on the other end to bring relief to millions by declaring another National Hangover Day.

Sec. Makarowski's twin needs an NHD

Buttons on nightstands across the country would then glow red and red-eyed, dehydrated people everywhere would rejoice by sinking back into their dream of floating a raft down a sea of malt liquor.

Party on, Wayne.

And there would be much rejoicing.

On a side note, I tried in earnest to keep up with Mr. Bush last night, abiding by the spirit, if not the letter, of the 2006 SOTU drinking game posted yesterday. "Freedom" and "terror" alone killed a third of my beer supply (by the way, for all you prose types out there, those words would make for a great opening line to a story. If you like em, they're yours). And that was just the first fifteen minutes.

I was IMing with my friends Eric and Nate during and after the speech and we did a pretty good job of riling each other up. The Democrats' rebuttal, delivered by Governor Tim "Are you kidding me? How could this not go to Barack?" Kaine (D-VA), was disappointing and caused my mood to shift from something resembling bloodlust, to a feeling I can only imagine resembled what that cosmonaut who floated out of his shuttle's cargo bay to take man's first steps into space felt like.

It was in that frame of mind, however, that I came upon this: a recording of the first Daily Show after 9/11. Powerful. I don't remember seeing this the first time around. I think I was still hiding in the Shenandoah Mountains at that point.

But Jon Stewart's opening monologue is a killer; an emotional time machine and also, I think, a very nice way to honor the passing of Coretta Scott King. I wonder what would have happened if the Dems had simply played this last night instead of serving up more platitudes and rhetoric.

Anyway, I didn't mean to end this post on such a heavy note so here's a different Daily Show clip, one where Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert totally lose it on camera after Stephen fellates a banana. Happy National Hangover Day.

POTUS' SOTU: The drinking game played once a year

Tonight, on the 1,050th day of the Iraq war (George Will points out the 912th day of American participation in World War II was D-Day), our POTUS will make the State of the Union (SOTU) address he is constitutionally bound to deliver. In response, many Americans will make the gagging-dry-heave noises they are morally bound to deliver.


The Democrats' responses (filmed before a live, non-studio audience) will be given by Virginia Gov. Tim Kaine, in English, followed by a Spanish response from L.A. Mayor Antonia Villaraigosa. Neither of the leaders are expected to deviate from the core message of the Democrats rebuttal, which is to make clear that John Kerry is not the guy giving the response.

For those seeking some appetizers prior to tonight's main course, here are some highlights from today's news:

The NY Times and Washington Post's prep pieces, the NY Daily News on Bush's body language, two updates (one from the top, one from the bottom) on the role of religion in both Parties, and the Daily News again on Sen. Hillary's guest for tonight's speech.

All of the above links can be found in today's The Note, the immensely praiseworthy and free daily digest of news and analysis provided by ABC News. Nowhere is there a greater quality or quantity of coverage to be found in a single source. Beware though, it's more addictive than crackrocks.

An example of The Note's SOTU analysis from ABC News' Polling Director Gary Langer in today's Note:

"Partisans watch these things; rather than torturing themselves, people who don't like the guy can just turn to another of their 100 channels. When we polled on the SOTU in 2003, we found that the president's approval rating among speech watchers was 70 percent, versus 47 percent among those who didn't watch. As we put it at the time: 'Simply put, people who don't like a particular president are considerably less apt to tune him in.'"

"These speeches tend to be composed of poll-tested applause lines, so the people who watch are already predisposed to like what they hear."

People predisposed to like what they hear, eh? Hmmm...well, I can think of only one way to guarantee my predisposed enjoyment of tonight's latest truth-massacre, and that's to turn it into a drinking game. Here are the rules.

So gather your buddies and get down on Bush's special brand of truthiness. Because remember: If you watch the speech, you're gonna feel like shit tomorrow morning anyway.

When it rains, it pours

Third post of the day. Should've been the first.

My homie, my stromie from back in the day, DK Meth, has dropped his first mash-up for your aurul pleasure.

Check him out dudes: Fiddy meets George Benson in GiveMeDaNightClub. When you're done, email him your request to release the uncirculated-but-heavily-rumored-to-exist Mammoth demo tapes.

For a refresher on Fiddy mashups gone wrong, go here

File under "N" for No Doy

The Washington Post reports something the electoral map pointed out years ago.

"That study found that supporters of President Bush and other conservatives had stronger self-admitted and implicit biases against blacks than liberals did...

...The analysis found that substantial majorities of Americans, liberals and conservatives, found it more difficult to associate black faces with positive concepts than white faces -- evidence of implicit bias. But districts that registered higher levels of bias systematically produced more votes for Bush.

Obviously, such research does not speak at all to the question of the prejudice level of the president," said Banaji, "but it does show that George W. Bush is appealing as a leader to those Americans who harbor greater anti-black prejudice...

"...If anyone in Washington is skeptical about these findings, they are in denial," [Krosnick] said. "We have 50 years of evidence that racial prejudice predicts voting. Republicans are supported by whites with prejudice against blacks. If people say, 'This takes me aback,' they are ignoring a huge volume of research."

It's hard to feel sympathy for Condi Rice, but right now, I do.

State of the Union: Insane

If you have the stomach to watch our President deliver tomorrow night's SOTU here's an excellent article from this Sunday's Washington Post to frame the issues. Below are the results of a poll conducted Jan. 23-26 by the Post and ABC News asking Americans which issue should receive the highest priority by Bush and the Congress. Margin of error = +/- 3%


Interesting to see lobbying reform at the bottom of the list. It seems the Abramoff affair didn't surprise anyone but only confirmed that Americans already believe that Congress is available to the highest bidder. And yet, still not a priority. The blind trust people have in their government to self-regulate follows the textbook definition of insanity: to do the same thing over and over again and expect different results.

The issue directly above lobbying reform is a bit harder to rationalize. It's not a problem we as a species have had to deal with before although blind trust in our leaders is certainly not something we can rely on here, either. The debate stiffens, and Blair shows he's not like Dubya on all fronts.

Think about this stuff too much and before too long you might find yourself adopting alter-egos the better to join your insane countrymen.

Somebody, anybody, please...put me back to work before it's too late.

The Human Torch was denied a bank loan

SSA Audio Volume One - Vocals: yikes. I'm really sorry. I have no idea how to sound like I'm not speaking from a podium when I sing. Guitar: passable. Whistling: like a goddamn canary. If the above Flash thingy doesn't work, click here to hear it elsewhere. Don't fit and don't play is a bad combo. Make sure to leave all constructive feedback in comments box below. Thank you.

Inhabitat.com

1. Naturalicious covers for your iPod and laptops


2. Imagine trying to pull this off in NYC. "Hi Officer, how are you today? Oh this, it's just a little public art-open space reclamation project my friends and I have - what? Permit? Oh no, but we're feeding the meter! What? OK, yessir, we'll be removing it right now." Gotta love the SFPD...

Here I come again, I'm bringin my friends

1. The "Ooh-la-la-la" gets reunited for Chappelle's Block Party. Coming soon to a theater near you. Check the trailer here.


2. A-10 basketball classic: GW v. Rhode Island, home of Cut Mobley and Lamar "Gettin paid to watch Kobe is cool" Odom. Buff n' Blue now lookin to run the table. First ever Top 10 ranking possibly in the offing. SSA roots hard for the home team as Syracuse gets its act together.

SLY LIVES!

But damn, Sly's welcome-back committee is Maroon 5, Steven Tyler and that fool from the Black Eyed Peas? Stay gone, Sly!

I'll kick your sister's ass

1. Dave Chapelle takes his turn on Inside the Actors Studio on February 12th and does some thinking outloud about Hollywood. More episode previews on the front page

2. The Wand, The Flaming Lips : From the first Lips' album since 2002's Yoshimi. And in a completely different although Lips' related story, an earlier Lips' album, Transmissions from the Satellite Heart, always reminds me of downtown Jersey City, NJ. Specifically, the intersection of Columbus and Grove by the PATH station. I was driving through that intersection, slapping the shit out of my steering wheel in time to When Yer Twenty-Two, when the van I was following side-swiped and then completely ripped the side-view mirror off another van. I wouldn't have done more than brake to rubber-neck for a second before going about my business if the van that I was following hadn't been full of my campaign staff. And a rental. With a 17-year old driver. Who had no driver's license.

I tried to imagine a non-cement shoe related repurcussion of being the one responsible for the campaign being dropped from its rental agreement statewide. Drawing a blank, I ran to the van and told the kid behind the wheel to run. Run fast, far away. But the kid's hesitation blew it and we had to make our stand.

Luckily the guy was a Democrat and didn't want to hassle us. When I got back to the car, the CD had played through back to the beginning:

"It's like at the circus, when you get lost in the crowd.
You're happy but nervous, definite sign that you've lost it"

It's got handclaps too, y'all.

With a Gun, The Minus 5 : The Gun Album, the latest by The Minus 5, features a guestlist that could easily fill out a festival bill. The Minus 5, along with Golden Smog (also dropping a new album this year), are where Wilco frontman Jeff Tweedy goes to re-connect with his alt-country roots. If this song also turns out to closely resemble the sound on Wilco's upcoming studio album, I would not be unhappy.

Bring the Noise...

From Musings of a Liberal Texan...

"There are times when you say, no more. Yes, the republicans won and have the power. But guess what? 52% of the people in this country believe that Bush should be impeached! 52%! Last time a percentage was used, I believe it was 51%, it was called a mandate. So what is 52%? A direct freakin’ order? Over and over again we heard it said – mandate! mandate! mandate! all over the news. What was the percentage of people that wanted Clinton impeached? 36%? Yet silence from the media on the issue of impeachment. No amount of head bobbing, arrogant dismissal of facts, minimizing of ethical violations or deflection of attention will ever, ever justify blatant law breaking."

More here...

BENSCOT DOT BLOGSPOT DOT COM IN THA HOUSE!

1) A rap based on the HTML code found in Strike Sparks Anywhere, courtesy of HTTP in tha House

HTTP in tha House
lyrics by: http://benscot.blogspot.com

then worry
wanna go br slurry
this comment
the radio prewar
b aptonym
rock n roll for
blogger com comment g blogID
deselectbloggerimagegracefully

is a paragraph
span be bork
wwf monster car fantasy
content article ar lsd
em posted by
pete best pete rye
by big easy a href chef
a href http cleft

BENSCOT DOT BLOGSPOT DOT COM IN THA HOUSE
BENSCOT DOT BLOGSPOT DOT COM IN THA HOUSE
BENSCOT DOT BLOGSPOT DOT COM IN THA HOUSE
BENSCOT DOT BLOGSPOT DOT COM

* the weird part: pete rye is a friend of mine in Boston whose name does not appear anywhere in this blog until now. Pete warned that "the intranet will kill us all". It knows, Pete, it knows.

2) Leeeeee-ROOOOOOOY JENKINS! Though I'm aware these games exist, I've never played them but this dude's battle-cry cracks me up. And at least he has chicken. I'm totally using this in my everyday life.

3) A short list of reasons why I like staying up late: It's quiet. Pressure to do something with the day is gone. Can drink lots more water. Though I've quit, the cigarettes taste so good. The phone calls are better. The meds finally wear off.

4) Haiku for Ron Artest:

Trade me! Just kidding?
Ron? Is Larry Bird gonna
have to choke a bitch?

5) The new Mac is cooler than a box of popsicles.

6) Dan Snyder pimps the system aka no salary cap for coaches: The New Org Chart

7) Another 2005 Did You Know: Rupert Murdoch bought Myspace? If true, shouldn't Bill O'Reilly have to sport a scarf and chunky glasses? Seems fair.

800K Arcade Fire fans might be wrong

Am I the only one that doesn't see a happy ending here?

Anyway, I have a confession to make.

For the past year, I've been trying really, really hard to get into the modern indie music scene. I've read the reviews, clicked the downloads, seen the shows, etc. I've spent hours browsing artist websites, mp3 blogs and the blackhole of time and energy known as Myspace. Two days (!) I spent chasing down samples of the bands listed on different 2005 End Of Year Best-Of lists. But in the end, all I find myself left with is a handful of songs that I wouldn't mind listening to again (and again and again and again) but nothing worth the hype really. I can't front any longer - I must come clean.

It don't pass the It's-Fine-For-The-Internet-But-Would-I-Play-It-In-My-Car test. At least not the stuff the kids are going nuts for: Arcade Fire, Wolf Parade, Decemberists, The New Pornographers, Clap Your Hands Say YeahYeahWhatever-I-Liked-It-The-First-Time-When-It Was-Called-The Talking-Heads. It's just not doing it for me.

Sufjan Stevens seems to be doing the most with the tools of his genre: celestial strings, muted horns, a male lead vocalist that sounds like he's either ten or been neutered. But the rest of it kind of all runs together to me. Again, a handful of good stuff (see below) but most of it's either too lightweight, or fey, or twee, or whatever the fuck the kids are calling it; or it's rock n' roll without the edge, a la Spoon or The National. It's not what I'm looking for in my music. Although the first track on that Arcade Fire album does kick ass.

Frankly, being unemployed four months out of the year gives me a lot of time to sift the sands of the web to find the good stuff. But it's fucking exhausting. I got loads of spare time and I still can't keep up with all the bands that are supposed to be just "envelope-pushing", let alone "genius". Good luck staying twee and employed, kiddos.

Turns out all I want in my music is some harmonica and some handclaps. Thank you, Southeast Engine (click on One Caught Fire - and wait for it).

More good music: Doh! The song I wanted to put here had fun lyrics, triumphant horns, a loud bass, Doo-Doo'n backup singers, and more handclaps! But the blog it appeared on just killed the link, so....here's the same band, the Scotland Yard Gospel Choir, but a different tune. It's still a good one.


OK, I like a little bit more in my music than just handclaps. I like it traditional sounding but with a touch of discord. Weirdness is good, gimmicks are lame. Noise can be great as long as it's not a replacement for substance, unless of course you can make it work like that. I also need my vocalists to sound like they've been old enough to understand what they're singing about. The Unicorns know better than to try to wrap their feeble limbs around the disillusionment of adulthood. SYGC almost pull that one off but, listening to the guy's voice there, I can't help but get the feeling that if he's dismayed by 23, just wait til he gets a load of 30.

My "indie" favorites from 2005: My Morning Jacket, Z; Devendra Banhart, Cripple Crow; Eels, Blinking Lights...; Caps and Jones, Moving in Stereo; and my man Jens.

Oh yeah, shouts to Yacht Rock. It's the smoothest.

Avoiding the Google Monkeys

Illadelph
I had to pull the plug on my first attempt at blogging earlier this year due to stupidity. It's difficult to live in the worlds of a candid blogger and a slightly-connected political operative at the same time. Hence, all controversial names have been intialized to protect their identity from the aforementioned Google monkeys.

If someone had told me a year ago, when I was just starting to dip my big toe in the milky world of political consulting, that, at this time this year, I would be editing the 2006 statewide voter contact plan for Ohio at a desk in the office next to SR (1, 2), I would've called bullshit. But truth stranger fiction blahblahblah...

Quick weekly recap:

Monday - supervised finishing touches on new kitchen being installed in old house

Tuesday - gym, surfed web, baked lasagna in brand-new kitchen

Wednesday - got my D.C. on: attended reception for swearing-in of Sen. Menendez (D-NJ) at D.C. Hyatt, shook hands with Ted Kennedy, sipped champagne in the Thomas Jefferson suite at the Willard Intercontinental, shook hands with Steve Rothman (D-NJ's Fightin 9th), got tanked with next mayor of Hoboken at several swingin D.C. establishments.

Thursday - edited Ohio statewide plan, met with SR and others

Friday - gym, surfed web, cooked chili

Now for the goodies:

One guy in Washington State refers to "Eye Gunk" as "Kitty"
1) Soda vs. Pop cleared up, but apparently the jury is still out on the sprinkles/jimmies debate. I find this site endlessly fascinating.

2) I think if we pooled our money we could not only afford three of these things, but also hire a goon to forcibly attach them to Tucker Carlson's nipples and perineum.

3) Bork bork bork! (1, 2)

Well, barring a major upset, it looks like the SSA Express will be pulling into the City of Brotherly Love for it's next campaign stop. Two big seats at stake and a chance to crush Mr. Frothy Mixture himself. Living up to its name, the O.G. made me an offer I'd be stupid to ignore.

(sigh)

Someday Portland, someday.

Press rewind

Remember me?
I said something like "Oh-ho-ho-ho sheeeeeeeeeut" when I found this on the web earlier today. Memory lane, son.

Maxell's UR 90s. WAVA's Top 8 at 8. Frank Ski's Doo Doo Brown mix. Monkees Greatest Hits. The mix tapes for hebrew school. Say word.

That DooDoo Brown tape was my prize posession back in 7th grade. Post-2 Live Crew, pre-2 Hype Brothers and a Dog, there was Baltimore's Frank Ski, and DooDoo brown was his calling card. Side A was all Ski beats and samples, Side 2 was all mix: Black Box, Turn this Mutha Out, 2 Live Crew, a BBD medley and UMC's Blue Cheese!. I taped it off this dude at camp named Neil who claimed he mixed it in his basement at home, and that sexy voice that came in repeatedly to say things like "You're listening to Frank Ski's megamix, oh baby, oh baby, ohhhh baybee" was his mother. Doubted him then, worry about him now.



I graduated to these Maxells in high school and rocked them like spinning rims until college. Honing my skills in mixology. Stacks of mixes for any occasion. Converting my dad's vinyl: dylan, carlin, otis, cosby. Like Ragu, it's in there.


I still have a blue bag that holds about 10 gajillion of these babies. The College Years aka the "bootleg" tapes. Grateful Dead. Dylan. Phish. DMB. The radio shows of Jay Vincent, Syracuse's overnight Deadhead sensation. Road trip mixes, etc.

Once upon a time my uncle Gary wanted to take me to a Grateful Dead show. I'm pretty sure it would have been at the Philly Spectrum sometime in the late 1980s (Note to still-lurking inner deadhead: look up all Philly Spectrum shows circa 1986 to see what you may have missed - assume it was the one with the most rare songs played). I believe the conversation went something like this:

Uncle Gary (to my parents): I'm gonna take Junk to see the Grateful Dead.

* Junk was my uncle's nickname for his daughter - my cousin - Jacalyn.

My parents: Really? That's great!

Me: I wanna go!

UG: Yeah, you like the Grateful Dead?

Me (no clue at this point): Yeah!

UG (to my parents, smiling): He wants to go too.

My parents: Uhhhhhhm...he has a Bar Mitzvah to go to that day.

Yeah, I wuz robbed. To think I could have spent my high school years dazed and confused rather than misanthropic and on the debate team.

Uncle Gary persevered, however, in his quest to expand my cultural horizons at an early age. During future visits to my relatives in Philadelphia Unka Gar would be my chaperone through the world of WWF matches, monster car rallies and multiple S&M shops on a trip down South Street. I'm pretty sure my father was there for that last one but not sure if that necessarily makes it any better.

ANY-hoo, fate eventually brought me to a Dead show at RFK, a month or so after my avoidance of Tour Rat status had culminated in being Class Speaker at graduation. It was there I was spied by two burnouts that had disappeared sometime after freshman year, only to reappear for a month or so every year hence, clad in tye-dyes, looking spun out and with tales of rehab.

They (on a grassy hill somewhere in the lot): Hey dude.

Me: Hey Bob. Hey Gumby.

Gumby (with deep voice, passing balloon to Bob): Nice speech.

* Gumby exhales, decks out.

Bob (nodding and hitting balloon): (decks out)

Me: Thanks, see ya guys.

Anyway, I can't see myself getting nostalgic over blank CDs. Viva los mixtapes.

Don't Call Us, We'll Screw You

Dollar for dollar, is there a worse market for consumers than within the cell phone industry? I understand the genetic code of the modern corporation compels it to create the widest profit margin possible. But what happened to "The Customer is Always Right"?

It's been replaced with "The Customer Only has 4 Options", that's what. Verizon, Sprint, Cingular and T-Mobile took a look around, realized they had the high ground, and decided customer satisfaction was for suckers.

Short of the The Fight Club Solution, there are few practical solutions. SSA's small contribution to public sanity is helping to spread this cheat code which shows the quickest way to navigate to a human being in many large businesses customer service.

Back in VA

Progress on the ol' To Do List got off to a slow start today as noted earlier. Package from Grandma discovered upon arrival and contents made day not a total wash though: Hooray for Yiddish! A book about English by Leo Rosten. Includes this classic gem:

A Jew asked his son, "Exactly what did Einstein do that was so smart?"

"Einstein revolutionized physics. He proved that matter is energy. That when light goes past the sun, it bends. That -"

"Awright, awright," said the old man. "But tell me: from that he makes a living?"

Oy.

1. Tell me bout the whistles. "The whistles go 'WOOOOOOOOOOOO'. And the kids play it over and over again.

2. Two part mindblower courtesy of El Stence:
a) "Don't give up, Mac! Join the Nintendo Fun Club today!" Press Select now for the power boost. Kudos to Johnathan last-name-unknown for bringing in to the world's attention via La Stence.
b) "Mirror neurons make these complex cells look like numbskulls." Wow.

3. David Cross is a funny, funny dude. His letter to Larry the "Git Er Done" Cable Guy has been circulating for awhile but in case anyone missed it, check it here.

4. "Rudolf Hess, man of peace" - lyrics taken from Sacrifice by Prussian Blue. That's right, it's the Blue, baby! Sorta like the Olsen Twins, only wicked racist. Check out the lyrics to some of their awesome songs, like "I Will Bleed For You", "The Road to Valhalla" and "Weiss Weiss Weiss". Please send them hate mail.

All I need is an annoying fat guy that sells shower curtain rings...

Reporting live from Chicago...this is BEN.

Argh...last night's flight from Portland into Chicago arrived after my flight from Chicago to D.C. had already taken off. After shelling out the bucks for a discounted hotel room nearby, and setting a 5am wake up call to make the first available plane out, fog in D.C. has cancelled the friggin' flight. Apologies for the harsh language folks...it's been a long 20 hours. In the meantime, here's my list of stuff to do during the next two weeks to D.C.:

Clean car, sell car, appear in court to plead guilty to driving with an expired and suspended license, touch base with contacts at Democratic Governors Asso, America Votes and elsewhere re: potential work in second half of 2006, cash-in $100 credit towards phone upgrade, firebomb Verizon customer service HQ, pack essentials for Oregon.

Unless I hear an offer I can't refuse, it looks like I'll be organizing the field effort to qualify 4-6 ballot initiatives in Oregon for the next few months. Good issues, good people to work with, good pay, good city = good times. More on campaign specifics later.

Alright, this post is costing me money. O'Hare doesn't have wifi so I'm paying $.65 a minute to sit in a faux office, complete with Epson black and white printer, impressive-looking phone with many buttons and a sign telling me I can call Malaysia with no extra charge. All so I can unburden myself to you, my hypothetical audience. What a country! In Soviet Russia, audience unburdens you! Or something.

OK, last thought: Though I haven't left the airport, I forgot how great a city Chicago is. The people, the newspapers, the attitude, everything. Don't sleep. Later.

Almost Gameday

1. No less a blue-collar authority than Tim Russert says the PBIP are the great equalizers of D.C.

Learned from Limericks

Taking inspiration from Steve over at The Sneeze, I've decided to have a go at creating what we at SSA hope will be only the first in a recurring series of posts, aimed at sharing knowledge which can only be gleamed from exploring man's greatest creation, The Internet. This series is titled: Learned It From Limericks.

I discovered the Omnificent English Dictionary in Limerick Form (OEDILF) while tracking down the definition of an aptonym. Turns out an aptonym, or what the Romans also called nomen et omen, or "prophetic name", is a term used for a person's handle that also happens to correspond with their profession, i.e. the custodian named Joe Dirt, the ornithologitst Bill Bird and my friend's dog, Mr. Barksalot.

OEDILF: Not to be confused with the expression "Oh DILF!" (where the "D" stands for Drew)

OEDILF, however, and as the true title suggests, chooses to illuminate the mind with the illustrative power of Limerick. For aptonym, OEDILF offers the following entries, all user-submitted:

aptronym, aptonym by BobHale

In aptronyms, names really fit:

For example, the dentist named Bitt,

Or the baker named Bunn,

Or the sniper called Gunn,

But not quite the sewerman, Schmidt.

also...

Best, Pete, aptonym, aptronym by Chris J. Strolin

An aptonym, Ringo had guessed,

Was a name where one's job is addressed.

Had this been the case

For the guy he'd replace,

You'd have known him as Pete Second-Best.

Pete Best (b. 1941), unfortunate recipient of one history's great shaftings, was the drummer for the Beatles just before that group's popularity went through the roof.

So there you have it. Another major crisis averted thanks to the awesome powers of Limericks. I'll be sure to check in with OEDILF the next time any of those showboatin authors (yeah you Eggers and Perelman! More like Dave BoringDick and S.J. NoOneRemembersMe) try and stump me with one of their Susan B Antony-cent words. Who'll be laughing then? Me, Ben AwesomeBlog, that's who.

Big Things

Hello everybody. Happy New Year. Hello 2006, I dig your style already.

1. Abramoff Scandal Spurs Buyer's Market on Bejesus in D.C.

"There's a lot of talk coming out of various quarters that the Justice Department is going to pursue a different definition of bribery, meaning that if somebody were to give a gift or a campaign contribution in the same time period as a member took an official action, that in and of itself would constitute bribery," said a former Republican leadership aide who insisted on anonymity. "That scares the bejesus out of people."

Jack Abramoff gets ready to sing as (mostly) Republican cohorts begin to scramble. I love it. Excellent graphics and full NYT story here.

So, to review the information to date, here are the things Republicans have to worry about as the midterm elections approach:

1) In the investigation of Mr. Abramoff, accusations of influence peddling and improper dealings with Indian tribes, among other things.

2) In the money-laundering and conspiracy charges against Representative Tom DeLay, questions about the funneling of corporate money to Republican candidates.

3) In the C.I.A. leak case, the special counsel’s scrutiny of conversations between White House officials and journalists.

4) In the war on Iraq, continued questions of exit strategy and press manipulation as American death totals continue to rise

There is so much to keep track of and so little faith in the Democrats' ability to make any of it stick when it counts, or even emerge clean themselves. It's times like this you really have to wonder....WWBD?

2. Seller's market on PBIP playoff tickets

The Peoples are in, baby. This train is bound for glory, this train don't carry no unholy. Skins go 5-1, including a 3-0 run to end the season, against NFC East opponents. Team also re-ups AHC-D Williams big-time at the perfect time. Playoff rematch against Tampa Bay this Saturday. The world makes a little bit more sense.

3. Some 2005 R.I.P.s you may have missed.

4. Bush's best lines, 2005-edition

5. Letterman smoots Bill O'Reilly

See you in the Oh Six

Mt. Hood over Portland
Alright, just a few thoughts on 2005 and then I'm on my way up to the cabin on Mt. Hood for the four-day Rawkus Bacchus New Years Debauchery Debacle.

I'd like to officially dub 2005 as the year of "I Told You So". Failed leadership, deadly weather and celebrity meltdowns we all saw coming from a mile away.

ITYS #1: George Bush is a horrible POTUS


Not to go off on a rant here, but sometimes I get the urge to toss dumb motherfuckers out into the middle of the street just when a big fucking truck is about to come by. It comes on the strongest whenever I hear somebody say, "Jeez, guess I voted for the wrong guy. Twice." Hoo-what? Asphincter says what? What objections could these dolts possibly have that weren't already on full display during Dubya's first term? Curtailing civil liberties? Please see the Patriot Act. Iraqi news propaganda? Paging Jeff Gannon. Botched New Orleans rescue and recovery? See Iraq (or Manhattan, take your pick).

Perhaps it's just a bandwagon effect but the calls for impeachment are becoming audible and coming from surprising corners. No gloating here, but hopefully a lesson for voters.

ITYS#2: Global Warming is real

In 2035, when epic droughts and floods have caused catastrophic damage to the global agricultural supply and millions of impoverished environmental refugees are using any available weapons to cross borders to get to high ground, and the wealthy are scuttling off to Mars with the last drops of oil and potable water safely in tow, those of us left to slug it out on Earth may look back at 2005 as the year it became clear just how stupid we were to ignore science. It's the biggest conceivable tragedy of our species to eliminate life on this planet but if those damned scientists are right, that wheel is already turning. And don't worry, just in case you manage to survive the impacts of hurricanes, heat waves and fires, there's still gobs of radioactive waste, pesticides and super-diseases just waiting for us down the road. If the thunder don't getcha then the lightning will. Happy New Year.

ITYS#3: Tom Cruise is a total freak
I sensed it during Days of Thunder but didn't know until I saw Magnolia. His public emotional outbursts this year only sealed the deal. What a freak! Maybe Tom discovered L. Ron Hubbard's soul had reappeared on Earth inside Katie Holmes like Buddha or something, I don't know. Hey Tom, you want an impossible mission, here you go: act normal!

ITYS#4: Joe Gibbs is the truth


Some say the final word is still out until after this weekend's game in Philly but I'm saying it now. The PBIP have seen 5 coaches in Gibbs' 12 year absence and none have had the franchise playing win-and-in-the-playoffs games against NFC East opponents in December like they are now. The nation's capital is under his spell once again. Gibbs' return to coaching also marked a banner year for D.C. sports: The Wizards make it to the second round of the NBA playoffs for the first time since 1982, GW Colonials go the Big Dance and are currently ranked #12 and, of course, the re-arrival of the nation's pasttime to the nation's capital made D.C. one of the great sports cities in 2005.

ITYS#5: The Democrats need more than a year to get their shit together


Post-2004, we liberals had hopes that the Democrats were taking time to bone up on their Lakoff, learn what was the matter with Kansas, etc. Instead, we get to watch the uber-confident Dems try to just stay out of the way of repeated Republican implosions (Duke Cunningham, Iraqi newspaper propaganda, domestic wiretapping) and did I mention Obama voting for Dr. Torture?

I'll take all this back if Chuck Schumer can pull it off.

ITYS#6: I do not suck at fantasy sports

I've won two championships this year, one in basketball, one in football. Nuff said.


Alright, that's a wrap. Gotta go pack. I give you the last two treats of 2005 to the jam-band loving sports fans:

1. Mediski, Martin and Wood covers the Sportscenter theme

2. The Sportscenter commercial archive. Cuse fans check out Sweet Science.

Here's to an amazing 2006, one full of life's lessons learned, tipping points and another Super Bowl ring for Joe Gibbs. Happy New Year!

Random

You are the Light (By Which I Travel into this and that)

Plus, which would be your Music Team of the Millenium?

Team A:
Outkast
The White Stripes
Jay Z
The Strokes
Modest Mouse

B:
Radiohead
Eminem
Kanye West
The Flaming Lips
Wilco

Indigenous Peoples on the warpath...

Skins handling business. Next up, at Philly, New Years Day....

Tell Your friend Veronica...

...it's time to celebrate Chanukah and a whole lot more. Season's greetings y'all...

The staff here at Strike Sparks Anywhere are very excited to be able to continue the Festivus tradition, of the Vanderbilt Ave. stylee, on the West Coast this year. Aluminum pole? Check. Prepared notes for Airing of Greivances? Check. Cleats for Feats of Physical Strength? Check baby, check baby one two three. And there was much rejoicing...

Anyway, a sincere best wishes to everyone this holiday season and on into the next year.

And, just for fun, here's some holiday-themed tunes just for your aural pleasure. Enjoy!

1. Got My Bells (Christmas in Kentucky) by LeRoy Bach.

2. Christ for President by Billy Bragg and Wilco. There's two schools of thought on this...

3. Whistling Jesus by Loose Fur. This is the other school of thought.

4. The Chanukah Song by Adam Sandler. The classic original.

5. Rudy by Danny Dolinger.

Peace on Earth,

Ben

Holidaze

There's much to celebrate here at Strike Sparks Anywhere as the hits keep on coming:

1. Chris Cooley High Harmony and The Potomac Basin Indigenous Peoples teabagging the Dallas Cowboys on National Television to stay in the NFC Playoff picture. This season's version of Tony Kornheiser's classic 1991 Bandwagon columns is The Many Faces of Clinton Portis:

1.
2.
1. "Jerome" from D.C.2. Dr. "I Don't Know"

3.
4.
3. Sheriff Gonna Getcha4. Dollah Bill

5.
6.
5. Reverend Gon' Change6. Kid Bro Street

Sheriff Gonna Getcha and the rest of the PBIG look to corral the New York Football Giants this Sunday.

2. As previously mentioned on this site, the Black Rock Fantasy Football League is home to many great talents. But it's nice to get a little recognition from outside sources every now and then. The most recent: SPIN magazine just ranked MF Wildebeests team owner aka the illegible DJ CAPS' album, Moving in Stereo, the #32 Best Album of the Year. Way to go Will! BRFFL: the music lovers preferred fantasy league...

3. My team in my non-celebrity fantasy football league has advanced to the Super Game. Note to Indy starters: only quitters sit out the final game! Play Marvin play!

4. Festivus is approaching. Will you be ready?

5. Chronicles of Narnia, son.

Back in PDX

So a funny thing happened the minute I landed in Portland last night. It started snowing and my fucking phone died. Guess which of those is the funny one.

Portland locals handle snow only slightly worse than they handle getting a slice of real muenster on their vegan breakfast platter. Schools, highways and state government offices closed, the roads that are open are littered with Volkswagon Bus pileups and the news runs feature stories on what locals are doing while "trapped" inside their homes (answer: smoking pot and playing Scrabble!) This is what I left the East Coast for? Actually, yes.

Football started at 10am today. Two of the guys I'm staying with are brothers from New Hampshire and they rejoiced as Peyton "Silver Platter" Manning and the Colts went down and then I danced several jigs watching the Redskins wallop the Comboys on national TV. This train is bound for glory.

Speaking of glory trains, my fantasy football team, barring a monster game from Brett Favre tomorrow night, will move on to the Super Game against Todd or Tim Marvin. Only bragging rights are on the line but, when Todd is involved, bragging rights are everything.

Days Left to Rawkus Bacchus New Years Debauchery Debacle: 13

Who is this Tweedy and why is he following me?

I have a malady. A sickness. I suffer.



I am simply unable to resist seeing Jeff Tweedy in concert.

In my defense, the guy doesn't make it easy on me. Since last summer he's been following me wherever I go. Cross the county twice, up and down both coasts, the dude always manages to keep within a short drive of where I'm at. Just close enough to bring my sickness out of remission and create whatever justifications are necessary to travel whatever distance necessary, sometimes alone, to go see him perform.

Dude even timed the New York dates of his solo acoustic tour to to accomodate my campaign schedule: four shows in NYS, all the week after Election Day. And now I decide to head back out to Portland and blam, west coast tour dates announced, starting in the Pacific NW. Fair enough right? He's gonna be in Portland, I'm gonna be in Portland, what's the big deal? Well, it's not a big deal except that I didn't just buy tickets for Portland, I bought them for Portland, OR, Eugene, OR and Vancouver, BC. British Columbia! Canada! I'm crossing the border!



And I would have bought tickets for Seattle but they had sold-out already. I also had to pull myself off the ledge of buying tix for the California run. I can't miss those: Arcata (redwoods), San Fran (Fillmore!), and LA (i've been meaning to hang with my sis in LA for awhile now, as good a time as any right?).


The Mayor of Arcata

Both of San Fran's finest

I think it would be good to mention that this sickness existed long before I ever heard of Wilco. There were always other bands. Since I was a kid, music was always the artistic medium that hit me hardest. There may be some environmental factors to consider there but I think it's easiest to just say I get it. Or it gets me, whichever you please.

Either way, I have always been and still remain a sheep in the flock of the Shephard of Rock. I believe (I believe!) in the awesome redeeming power of rock n roll and that, yes, music can save your mortal soul. When Rock and Roll is at its best it speaks the truth, and when you put it on top of a good beat and some nice harmonies you've got yourself something powerful enough to conquer entire nations.

Sometimes, though, music is just for dancing. Sometimes it's for quiet reflection. And sometimes its about truth, the high white note and the giant flaming wheel in the sky. It's all in there. The rock ethos is pure, but it's inhabitants aren't; and it's Jeff Tweedy's simultaneous understanding and embodiment of that dichotomy that makes him so appealing.

Some journalist from some mag recently said something really well also:

Jeff Tweedy Is Trying to Break Your Heart

What more can I tell you about Jeff Tweedy that he hasn't already told you himself? He's an American aquarium drinker. He doesn't believe in touchdowns. His mind is full of radio cures. He shakes like a toothache when he hears himself sing. He spends a lot more than three dollars and 63 cents on Diet Coca Cola and unlit cigarettes. He doesn't so much walk or swagger down the avenue--he assassins. He's the man that loves you and, yes, he's trying to break your heart. So what was I thinking when I said hello? I know what I was thinking when I said good-bye: You should never try to write a magazine profile about a band you really love. It's too humbling. I followed Wilco to New York, Chicago and the All Tomorrow's Parties festival in Los Angeles like a dog fetching a stick. I asked too many questions and learned more than I wanted to know. And now Tweedy has asked me to stop calling him. That's OK, I understand. I would've told me to fuck off a long time ago if I were him. But I'm not. Because even though he's the last person who would ever admit it--even to himself--Jeff Tweedy is special. Special like Dylan. Special like Guthrie. Special like Thom Yorke.

People talk about Wilco the way they talk about Radiohead, the way they used to talk about R.E.M. Wilco is a band that people listen to in their bedrooms and talk about at parties. Wilco can sell out a national tour in support of a record that didn't even come out. Wilco is a band that people make movies about. Wilco sings softly and cuddles a big stick. Wilco is standing on the shoulders of giants.

Tweedy has been to what Greil Marcus calls "the old, weird America," and he's seen the future age. And he's come back here to tell us that, well, he's come back here to tell us writer types that we're making asses of ourselves when we say that kind of stuff about him.

"I just talked to this journalist from Germany who told me our record had a distinct advantage because it was written by a prophet," says Tweedy, shaking his head in disbelief. "Hilarious."

Prophet? Probably not. The cat's ass? Hell yes.

Loose ends

Is there a better vacation than the one you take from a vacation already in progress? Just got back from four days with the grandparents in sunny West Palm Beach FLA and Granny don't rock the wireless so it's been awhile since my last post. It felt good to help Granmama do the things that Florida handymen now find beneath them, what with all the hurricane damage to cash in on. Hard to reach lightbulbs, some timely plumbing, a primer on the AC system in the new car and voila...a feel good family vacation for all.

Now I'm packing for Portland. Leave Saturday afternoon, be there for a couple weeks culminating in a 4-day New Years run in a cabin on top of Mt. Hood with some of the PDX crew. Hot toddies, hot bodies, tater totties...it's gonna be on.

P.S. Animal Boom is the greatest band name ever and I'm officially calling Dibs right now. "You live with raccoons....Animal Boom!"

Disasterous weekend for the fantasy teams too: big money football over and done, basketball team sucks (but The Big Inspector is back). And the team that should be formerly known as the Redskins play Big D at home thisSunday in a must-win on so many levels. National game - let's go!

These mash-ups are killing me on the inside

It seems that the logic behind much of today's mash-ups goes something like this: Do you like the Talking Heads? Do you like Radiohead? Then you'll love the Talking Radioheads: Thom Yorke singing over remixed Talking Heads songs. Actually that doesn't sound too bad. But for every bangin' mashup (see Dangermouse's Grey Album), there's a Q-Unit, where the Q stands for Questionable.

The best mash-up disk jocks have an ear that allows them to hear where the seams of disparate genres can be stitched together with effortless-sounding results. Here are some of those doin it right:

1. DJ Z-Trip: The first mash-up I ever heard was his mix of the Pharcyde's "Passin Me By" with Pat Benetar's "Love is a Battlefield". Like whoa. Here's Z-Trip mashing up Jigga Man with Jane's Addiction, J5 with Oasis, DPs and Green Day and more.

2. DJ bc's The Beastles: The Beatles are to eggs as Beastie Boys are to ???. If you said a) hot sauce, you are correct. How could this not be good, right? Right. Try on Sure-Bla-Di Shot-Bla-Da for starters, then head over to DJ bc's website for more excellent mashups of Buju and Stevie, and the White Stripes, Wings and Outkast.

3. Caps and Jones: Reppin Buffalo via Williamsburg, these dudes get an A+, and not just because Caps is in my fantasy football league. Their latest record, Moving in Stereo has been stuck in my head for months (that's right, the whole album is stuck) and I'm spreading the gospel like it's religion. For a sample that gives you the Fat Boys, Magnetic Fields, Jeff Spicoli and Neneh Cherry's Buffalo Stance, click here. Bddddddddddup - Stick Em!

Fantasy success

"Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy? Caught in a landslide, no escape from reality..." - Queen

"If you do fantasy sports year round I think it's clear that some not-so-small part of you is a loser." - NJG


It may also follow that if you dedicate close to 500 words of copy in your blog to your fantasy sports pursuits you are an altogether different yet equally depraved breed of human. But I ain't skeerrrrred...

Let's all of us together just move beyond the fact that I am an owner of four fantasy sports teams. Why four? Because five would be too many. I manage two football teams, one "fun" league, one for "money". Ditto for basketball. Of course, I'm not including the 7 (seven!) ESPN fantasy football teams I created so I could practice drafting before my real leagues had their draft. It's a sickness, I realize this, but I take comfort in the fact that my summers are fantasy sports-free, allowing me to escape being a total loser. Not like those fantasy baseball guys! What dorks!

Anyhooch, until this season I was like a second-year NFL wide receiver: still not ready for primetime. But as any FFL owner worth his fantasy cleats can tell you, the third year is where the wideouts come into their own. I have enjoyed more fantasy success this season than in any previous year. My "fun" football team, in a league filled with current "OJ" staff and alumni and dubbed "Supercaliblowme" by season ticket-holders, leads the league in scoring and I unbiasedly view myself as the undeniable favorite entering the league playoffs. Doubters can eat a bowl of you-know-whats...

My "money" team, the Deacon Blues, are tied for the league's best record and are also playoff-primed. The core of this league consists of a bunch of pipe-hittin Buffalonians that grew up together in the Black Rock section of town, plus some stray mathematicians, linguists and canvass supervisors. I have always sucked in the BRFFL league and I want to win badly. Oh yeah, we have t-shirts.


Sundays are the greatest days for fantasy sports - it's when the football gets played and the week-long basketball matchup gets resolved. My "fun" b-ball team, the Guatemala Ducks (shouts to PDX!), is in first place and I go up against a bunch of gents I've never met but whom I look forward to feeling smug in their presence of when I eventually get out west.

"The "money" basketball team, the Methadone All-Stars, are in the middle of the pack but with Tim Duncan, Shaq, Ray Allen and a steady supporting cast I feel confident going into battle with this latest incarnation of recovering hard-core drug addicts turned professional athletes.



Playoff updates forthcoming. Prayers welcome.

It's Always an Adventure

So, yeah, I lived in an apartment without power or hot water for about 4 months recently. And I still got a lot of reading done.

By far the best book was The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Klay by Michael Chabon. So good I next bought a book of his short stories entitled A Model World. Really good. Excellent at presenting and navigating characters through a narration of life's most universal yet subconsciously endured awkward moments.

Best of the Rest:

Franny and Zooey, JD Salinger - Apparently Fairfax County graduates a higher share of culturally ignorant hayseeds than I would have guessed prior to reading this book. It seems the rest of the literate world was exposed to this book before receiving their drivers license and I can only express gratitude that I did not. This tale of two Glass siblings would have done serious and lasting damage to my highly impressionable teenage brain. I may even have become a rabbi. I definitely would have stopped reading the Celestine Prophecy sooner than I did.

Motherless Brooklyn, Jonathan Lethem - It's understood that this book propelled Lethem to be "the king of a four-block radius" in dwntwn BKLYN. The book is very Brooklyn. Many of my friends swear by it. I laughed at the main character's Tourettic (?) outbursts (Eat me Bailey!) but didn't find myself engaged by the characters or the plot moving them forward. Definitely suffered from my constanct internal comparisons to Kavalier and Klay.

Naked & Me Talk Pretty One Day, David Sedaris - Very funny. I didn't fall on the floor and wet myself like the jacket reviews suggested I might but I did laugh often and took away some quality nuggets of advice for living, such as "When shit gets you down, just say 'fuck it' and eat yourself some motherfucking candy". Say word, son. Keepin it realer than Mary J's love.

The Polysyllabic Spree, Nick Hornby - Author of High Fidelity and About a Boy writes a monthly column for The Believer mag on which books he's bought and read in the past month and the two lists often overlap. Dude reads a lot and this post is inspired by his column but I don't get paid to write about the stuff I read or feel any of Hornby's admitted insecurity about having a shallower literary appetite than my readership. I have no readership. Except for you. And you are loved for being here. But seriously, Hornby loves books stronger than the word bibliophile can convey and, despite making you sit through his thoughts on a biography of an obscure biographer of obscure people of questionable renown, he makes you seriously consider quitting your job so you can devote a more civilized amount of time to reading. Even if it's in the dark.

Some early news

1. "When they were making $50 million a year on the road, there wasn't a lot of pressure to monetize their archives."

2. Phil sings in response (click on message up top)

3. Onondaga keeps it real in today's Times

4. Whoa.