Worth Your Time

What do these guys sound like?

I had almost forgotten how sick this tune is.  

Yup. Been watching music videos all night.

Chronicles of Nardia

Having seen a picture of myself without a shirt on and officially reaching the 200 lb milestone in the same week, I joined a gym yesterday. My first official workout was today. I arrived at Gold's Gym at twenty after six. After being given my shiny new membership card, I headed towards the locker room like I knew what I was doing; like I had been there before. As I awkwardly attempted to coordinate changing into my workout clothes without any articles of work clothing touching the ground (I'm afraid I am a bit of a germaphobe), I realized that when I passed through the entryway of the locker room, I unwittingly exited the back of the wardrobe and entered Nardia. Everywhere I looked; naked old men sauntered around dragging their balls on the floor between their feet. I did my best to keep my eyes off the floor and on the task at hand.

Before reemerging from Nardia, I got an extra light workout in. And by light, I mean I ran two and a half miles and walked one. Didn't want to overdue it on day one only never to return. And so I got on the treadmill, iPid in hand, earphones in ear. One of the best things about John Zorn's music -and about listening to music on headphones in general- is the potential for a fitting or juxtapositional soundtrack to whatever's going on around you. At the Mountains of Madness. Here, today, frenetic Jewish jazz being played like heavy metal was the soundtrack to a brush with fame. That's right. Fame. As a distinctly Jewish passage gave way to frenzied saxophone blowing, who should appear in the fringes of my peripheral vision, slowly walking directly in front of me? Kendrick Perkins.

Best and Worst of 2008: A Grand Undertaking

2008 just so happens to have been my first year with an iPod.  It goes without saying that this acquisition opened things up a bit.  The process by which we confront and filter overwhelming musical choices can be immensely frustrating, however.  In the face of ever-increasing accessibility, an interesting contradiction exists: Although there is a mind-numbing volume of music a mere few clicks away, how does one know where to begin?  There simply isn't enough time to taste it all.  While I would likely defend the channels I've come to depend on for the gathering of musical intelligence, the process is admittedly limited, flawed, and closed-minded.  Make no mistake, while I pride myself on a discerning and far-ranging ear, I am just as prone to misgivings as anyone else, though I would never admit this to you if were to have a discussion about you and the bullshit that pollutes your iPod.   Contradictions abound, our filters are perhaps as relevant as our musical choices themselves.  

People often try to have you listen to music they want you to like rather than introducing you to stuff they think you would like.  As part of an avoidance tactic, I use Pitchfork, The Onion's AV Club, my dad, brother, Ryan Mcree, Chris Cronin, Pete Albert, Ed Feldheim, James McCullagh, and Mike Mallen pretty exclusively.  My father is an opinionated avante-audiophile snob.  My brother has a penchant for singer-songwriters and math rock that no one has ever heard of. Mcree likes post-everything.  Cro specializes in older stuff I missed the first time around.    Ed has a handle on vintage jazz and blues.  Pete's taste greatly resembles my own.  Mallen's taste is endlessly intriguing.  James jams.  Pitchfork and The Onion's AV Club make up the balance of my musical cabinet.  Pitchfork cannot be trusted to help rule anything out.  With the exception of a few darlings and debuts, they hate almost everything.  Within this flaw, however, festers its strength: If Pitchfork likes it, you can bet it's worth your attention.  The Onion's AV Club is considerably more everyman in its approach and tone.  Disappointingly, however, the material they choose to review is decidedly pedestrian.    

It is through these channels -as well as the sparing use of a few others - that I have come to listen to the following over the course of the past year:  

Muse- Absolution

Elliot Brood- Ambassador

John Zorn- At the Mountains of Madness

                     Bar Kokhba

                     Invitation to a Suicide

Battles- Mirrored

               Battles

The Mars Volta- The Bedlam in Goliath

Modest Mouse- We Were Dead Before The Ship Even Sank

Band of Horses- Cease to Begin

                              Everything All of The Time

The New Pornographers- Challengers

Pelican- City of Echoes

TV On The Radio- Dear Science

Avett Brothers- Emotionalism

My Morning Jacke- Evil Urges

Fleet Foxes- Fleet Foxes

Trans Am- FutureWorld

Spoon- Ga Ga Ga

             Gimme Fiction

Les Savy Fav- Go Forth

                         Let's Stay Friends

Animal Collective- Here's The Indian

                                   Strawberry Jam

                                   Sung Tongs

M.I.A.- Kala

Wilco- Sky Blue Sky

Sigur Ros- Med Sud I Eyrum Vid Spilum Endalaust

Glenn Kotche- Mobile

Bloc Party- Silent Alarm

Kevin Drew- Spirit If...

Brazilian Girls- Talk to La Bomb

The Books- Thought for Food

Vampire Weekend- Vampire Weekend

Grizzly Bear- Yellow House

Ween- La Cuckaracha

Beirut- Gulag Orchestar  

In an attempt to account for our ever-dwindling attention spans, and to actively combat a recent lack of inspiration on my part, I am going to attempt to write concise reviews of the best and worst of my 2008.  Please stay tuned.

In Need of Tryptophan And Relaxation

Randy's in my head. Rightfully so. I've been taking the easy way out. It's lazy. It's cheap. Sometimes it's all I can muster.  I'm tired.  All work no play makes Seamus a dull boy.  Perhaps more accurately, all work no play during the week makes Seamus a drunken slob on Friday and Saturday nights, and subsequently useless on Saturday and Sunday, the two most potentially fruitful blogging days.  Well, I'm drying out this Thanksgiving so please stay tuned.  

          

I'm Sorry Randy

Hard Labour, Guy Stacking 20 Bricks on His Head - Click here for funny video clips


via videosift.com

Just A Few Concept Cars....

I work in an office.  Our office has a front desk.  It is manned by a man.  I use both terms loosely. He answers the phones.  Sometimes.  He fancies himself a real bad-ass.  A real rogue citizen.  He's 22.  His name is Billy.  About a month ago Billy started sending me emails.  The most memorable one included the subject line, "Just a few concept cars...."  

To this day, I remain unsure where he got the idea I had any interest in cars.  

On Halloween Billy dressed up like an FBI agent, complete with bulletproof vest.  Finding it best to ignore him entirely, I made no reference to the costume.  He sent me an email.

"You want to try on my vest?  Come on.  I know you want to try on my vest.  Come try on my vest.  You can wear it for the afternoon."  

I deleted it.  

A couple days later, on my way out of the office to get lunch, I was summonsed by Billy. He swiftly walked towards me and extended his hand.  A Caramelo.  

"What's this?" I asked as I simultaneously accepted the gift.  

"It's a Caramelo," he responded.  

"Oh.  Thanks."  

As I walked past the building's reception desk on my way out of the office I notice a box of candy.  Caramelo's were being sold for a dollar apiece, proceeds to charity.  I shrugged and ate my candy bar.  

I told a co-worker, Tom, about the whole thing.  He said through delirious laughter that he didn't want to be seen with me.  When I asked why, he responded, "Single White Female".      

A day later, during a seemingly ill-advised conversation at my cubicle with Tom, Billy turned the corner, "Seamus" he said as we briefly made eye contact and he held up the candy bar before placing it on my desk.  

"Wait, wait, wait," Tom added, shaking his head.  "Did you buy Seamus a candy bar?"  

"No."  

"Then what's this?" Tom demanded, nodding toward the chocolate-caramel goodness on my desk.  

"I stole it."  

"You stole it?  You stole Seamus a candy bar?  The proceeds go to charity.  You STOLE it?  That's for charity, man."

"I bought it.  I bought Seamus the candy bar."  

"Well, which is it?  Did you steal a guy a candy bar or did you buy him one?"  

"I bought it."  

Amidst this vague, uncomfortable resolution, the exchange abruptly ended and Billy walked away.     

Since then, I've declined two candy bar offers.  "I'm full" I usually offer while rubbing my distended belly.  

Yesterday he bought Tom a candy bar.  Said he only had a 5, and therefore had to buy 5 Caramelos.  This is interesting when you consider the envelope of single dollar bills situated beside the candy bars in the box at the building's reception desk.    

This is an interesting website.  

This guy is crazy.  

Ever heard of McSweeney's?

I'll Bail YOU Out

Desperate times call for desperate measures: in my case, novice economic pontification. Some advocates of unfettered capitalism aren't really advocates of unfettered capitalism, but rather, corporate socialism. Long before AIG there existed the notion that the federal government should bail out large corporations. When navigating the proverbial fence, your decision ultimately transcends dogmatic hyperbole. Or is that what it ultimately boils down to?

Band-aids and golden parachutes when perhaps major surgery is necessary. PUBLIC resources down the CORPORATE drain. I personally don't care what GM executives and their Chrysler and Ford counterparts have to say about their dire circumstances. Executives’ executives don’t get to play Karl Marx when it suits them. Not when intellectuals without vested interests in "The Big Three" have argued on the behalf of market forces and against taxpayer/federal assistance. Why not support workers and the communities that would be adversely affected by a bankruptcy filing instead? Or have certain businesses become so enormous that they rightfully command our unwavering attention and resources in a floundering economy?

On a certain level, as an American, it's frustrating that GM has long been so ineptly run that I would take a certain abstract visceral pleasure in watching its demise unfold. Companies of this sort are supposed to flounder and die, no? Isn't this a fundamental idea upon which our economy is predicated? GM has failed to make themselves and their products relevant through thick AND thin economic cycles. Remember when the hybrid craze first began and GM stubbornly clung to the notion that big, huge, silly cars with no regard for fuel economy were somehow innately American? Like by refusing to change they were somehow defending our way of life? At least from a distance, wouldn't continued inefficacy follow a large scale bailout?

To Be Continued....

Prop 8

On Saturday, in cities across the country, Americans gathered in protest of what is accurately characterized as a step backwards.  As part of an ongoing initiative to take steps away from the armchair and into the fray, I was there. 

While it's disheartening that, in this day and age, we are still arguing over -and at times retracting- the civil rights of entire groups of people, I was encouraged by a turnout estimated at 10,000.       

The truth is, even in beacons of progress like Massachusetts, there are forty some odd rights and benefits afforded to married heterosexual couples that are not afforded to married homosexual couples.  Judging by the turnout, perhaps the tide is changing.  It's about time.      

In Honor of Barrack Obama

A Free Thom Yorke Download.

Have Any Plans For Tomorrow?

Meet me here.

I'm Listening

Ryan said...
I think you were wrong on every single game...

This doesn't surprise me.  Does it surprise you?  If you're consistently good at predicting football games, you're likely some kind of quant.  And I'm no quant.  This guy is though.  

Seamus,
How bold of you to admit your fondness for Pooh. I would have loved to watch you and Michael sing Pooh songs...too funny!
Loving you,
Mrs. Holden

Bold?  It'd be bold of me not to, Mrs. Holden.  In this day and age, what's holding a 27 year-old man from openly embracing a cartoon bear with a penchant for honey and little boys who wear girl's shoes?   Wait...  

Tallent said...
The real question about Sarah Palin, is if she really farted at the free throw line during a high school basketball game?

Was this ever confirmed?  Because if this one was true, I pretty sure she's not qualified to be vice president.  Good thing she's not going to be.  I look forward to her spread in Maxim, though.   

Tim Curcio said...

Were you on the set of Footloose?

I fucking wish.  Kevin Bacon's my fave.    

Keats said...
Amazing amazing amazing recap of the debauchery that occurred that night!

I wish I could say I took creative license here.  Unfortunately, that wedding was the most absurd religious ceremony I've ever attended.  And that's pretty intense when you consider I've made communion (eaten bread magic to turned into human flesh), reconciliation (sat in a room by myself with an old guy I didn't know, begging forgiveness for "sins" that were really only the tip of an iceberg of youthful indiscretions that would have gotten me excommunicated on the spot), and have been confirmed (couldn't even begin to explain this one).   

Anonymous said...
Seamus, this is by far your best blog ever. I think you are getting the hang of this whole blog thing.
-Marty

I wish more of my life was this scandalous.  This crappy blog got 200 hits the day I wrote about that wedding.  Perhaps I should start watching Gossip Girl, change a little detail here, detail there, and pawn off various absurdities as autobiographical anecdotes?    

Tallent said...
I couldn't agree more with Marty, thats some good stuff. I wish I was there!

I wish you were there, too.  As horrible as the whole thing was, everyone should be so lucky as to be invited to a real white trash wedding where their fiance's life is threatened by the bride and both of her parents.   Surreal.  It was a privilege.  

Seamus...what a nightmare wedding...I promise not to throw drinks, dance too much or sing at all IF I EVEN GET INVITED TO YOUR WEDDING!!!
Mrs. Holden

Of course you're invited.  Duh.  I've heard you sing before though.  Your seat will be at least 40 yards from the nearest microphone.  

Mackin said...
Interesting songs. Fuck Buttons is growing on me. I think you need to hear this song: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HHhhcKxflMY
let me know what you think.

I've heard this one before.  I think they played it on SNL.  I like these guys.  I just never feel compelled to get their stuff for some reason.  

ryan said...
WTF is this?

"Genesis", the song I posted, becomes really sick about 35 seconds in until approximately the 2:00 mark, when you realize the song isn't going anywhere.   

ryan said...
This is fantastic. Very nice. Did she let you mail it?

Unfortunately, no.  Marty and I even came up with a fake scenario whereby he stole the letter from the center console of our car, where it has been since the day I wrote it, and mailed it without my permission.  We tested the waters first by telling Moose this had already happened. She was neither fooled nor amused.   Ultimately, she has opted to take the high road.  I hate the high road.  

caitlin said...
the monkey project had these insect zappers that looked just like badminton racquet's, but emit an electric shock when you swing them and make contact with something. After a few drinks, naturally, we hit each other with them. Feels really weird if you hit your tongue. If those blue bug zapper lanterns are anything like those, the shock is fairly forceful but does not give you any burns.

My sister the academic, everybody.  She's very studious, focused, and inquisitive.  She's going to change the world.    


mike said...
i never sleep

Go to sleep, Mike.

james said...
After reading this I thought I'd be able to find a video with someone touching one of the large blue outdoor bug zappers. After a solid 30 minutes... nothing.  I thought for sure there'd be some idiot who's tried this.  Seamus, This could be good for the blog. Film yourself touching one of these things. It'll be the first on the information super highway.

I like it.  I'll have to keep my eye out for one the next time I'm at a barbecue in the burbs.  

Mortimer said...
Is that last one a new olympic event? The septuple jump?

Very funny, Mortimer.  Truth be told, I'm not sure why I included that clip.  Pretty impressive though.    

Whoa

Many Different LIghts

There are many different lights under which to examine Barrack Obama's successful bid for the presidency of the United States.  I'd like to shine it on one of the under-acknowledged nooks.  For obvious reasons, certain aspects of the Obama story have taken a back seat to the issues.  To a degree, voicing an appreciation for the Obama story became taboo.  To be sure, it is not impressive that the most inspiring American political figure in as long as I can remember happens to be black.  It is cause for prideful celebration, however, that this country has finally reached a point where it is willing to embrace and elect that black man as president. 

A close friend of mine is a high school teacher at an inner-city school.  Given his unabashed passion for exposing institutional lies and manipulations on the behalf of any oppressed people, and also his enthusiastic approach to teaching and learning, I had lamented aloud this morning the fact that I would not be on hand to see his reception of his students this morning, and their reception of him.  Unbeknownst to him, I'm going to share the candid account he sent via email not long ago:    

As I watched the returns early in the evening it became clear after he took Pennsylvania that the race would be over within a few hours.  It just wasn't possible given the math for McCain to win.  So I took my time, prepared my lesson for the next day and headed out to an all black bar downtown, kicking myself that I didn't stay in Chicago for the rally, but happy to be joining some people that this held a great deal of significance for.

I got there a little before the major crowds showed up and nursed a beer while the central time zone returns came rolling in. The place was getting more and more crowded by the minute, and then BAM! Florida, POW!  California... and it was over.

As I looked around the bar at that moment I saw many different faces, but they all had similar looks of shock, amazement, relief and joy. I can honestly say that I have never been in a more exuberant crowd in my life. Everyone was screaming, jumping up and down, hugging each other, crying, laughing, and expressing a joy of the soul unique and singular to this moment. The next 30 minutes were filled with champagne, free drinks and a blitz of fast talking disbelief. For once, we actually elected the exact right person to fill one of the most important jobs in the world.

I was obviously really excited to walk into school today to see the pride and joy on the students' and teachers' faces. I have to say I feel extremely privileged to have been at this place for one of the defining moments in our history. I will never forget the hugs and high fives I gave and received all day today, from principal to security guards to teachers, and students. This was one of the proudest days of my life. To know that we were on the right side of history, that we have pushed civilization closer and closer to equality and justice, and that we can all come together in the days, months and years to come and continue the long march toward an even better day.

I'm proud to be an American today.

This was pretty much exactly the way I pictured it.   And I agree.

Trials & Tribulations

Me... Every Monday

What?

During these times of economic, political, social, and environmental instability, I think I've been losing sight of what's truly important. Having recently realized I have the capacity to take notes on my Dingleberry, I've launched an absurd campaign intent on figuring whether I have noteworthy ideas that usually lay dormant until they're forgotten entirely. I don't. But I'm going to share them anyway.

"Customized hooded." I have no idea what that means. Moving on.

"Gang of Four." I'm pretty sure this is a reference to the band and not Chinese Communist Revolution. I think I'm supposed to listen to them. I'm also pretty sure I know who told me to.

"Slim Pickens." Desperate to bestow this moniker upon a close friend, Moose and I decided instead this would make a good name for our future dog. At this juncture our only real options are Michael Jackson and Slim Pickens. According to Wikipedia this was actually been the name of a real person. This disappoints me. Or does it?

"The etymology of 'coming'. 'Cum'. Is it the place to be?" The circumstances under which I had this epiphanic question aren't as incriminating as one would think. Driving home from work, I heard the word as a double entendre in a song I was listening to. It got me wondering, was achieving orgasm dubbed "coming" because actually achieving orgasm was THE place to be? The be all end all of human existence? I'd like to think so.

"What would it feel like to touch one of those glowing blue bug zappers?" Seriously. Are we talking first, second, or third degree burns? Electrocution?

"When animals base needs are met, does evolution accelerate or slow? Are there different rules for humans? If so, are they the fruits of our 'superior intelligence'?" This is the question that came to mind when my car lurched to a stop just feet away from hitting the painfully retarded, giant wild turkey that used to menace the office park in which I spend far too much time.

CKY2K

As the back two fifths of the title indicates, this video came out in 2000. It can be credited or blamed for making fringe stupidity mainstream. It's also pretty funny. Having fallen in with a bunch of surfing, skateboarding burn balls, I easily saw this thing 10 to 20 times my sophomore year in college.  

Cultural Anthropology for Dummies

Having taken stock of the general tone of my music reviews, I've been waiting for the other shoe to fall. After all, it should only be a matter of time before I find myself at a terrible show, or at least one that I find mediocre. Perhaps I don't give myself enough credit. Maybe I consistently attend good shows because I have consistently good taste in music? To my chagrin, I don't get paid to wax poetic (though Google technically owes me $2.30 for the copious advertising revenue I've generated with this blog). As such, I'm pretty discerning. I don't have the money or the desire to go to shows I THINK I might like. Perhaps this best explains the consistently rave reviews.

In 2003 a good friend of mine turned me on to The Office. Not the American version starring Steve Carell, its British predecessor and inspiration starring Ricky Gervais. Having since come to enjoy the American The Office, I think these two pop phenomena likely reinforce some cultural differences between Americans and our across the pond neighbors. For some reason, Americans need happy endings and silver linings. The most obvious example of this is Pam and Jim's burgeoning engagement. The British, by comparison, are realists, content with ongoing irresolution. For a manifestation of this, look no further than Pam and Jim's British character parallels, perpetually star crossed and ill-fated. Further examples abound, I hope I've made my half baked point.

Rock critics like to dub various bands the American Radiohead. My Morning Jacket and Grizzly Bear have each been curiously given the moniker. In both instances, I just don't hear it. I think TV On The Radio is a more apt American Radiohead, and in much the same way the American The Office is the American The Office. Americans like a silver lining. Call it optimism. Call it ignorance. Call it escapism. They all work on some level. There are also musical similarities, like the heavy utilization of atmospherics and walls of sound, and loose experimentation. These similarities make the most compelling comparison their differences in orientation.

I was extremely pleased with myself right off the bat as we settled into our seats 15 minutes before TVOR took to the stage. Seated in the second row of the balcony, I bet David Sitek could actually smell my breath. Poor guy. With a wall of sound often setting the backdrop, dirge and hopefulness loosely interwoven and punctuated by Tunde Adebimpe's left forearm twittering about like a ceiling fan without an axis, they opened up appropriately with "Halfway Home", the first track off their newest album Dear Science, and closed with "Staring at the Sun", my favorite song from Desperate Youth, Bloodthirsty Babes.

To say TV On The Radio has their own sound may potentially qualify as the understatement of the year. Equal parts afrobeat ambient noise post-punk free jazz funk, one is only able to extricate one part from the other when overly preoccupied with doing so. And sonically I think this band is meant to be taken as the sum of its parts. To be sure, the sum of its parts sounds is pretty strange.

The epicentre of TVOR's sound is an atmospheric grandeur similar to their Oxford cousins. When Kyp Malone wasn't thrashing about with only a vague regard for the time keeping of Jaleel Bunton, he would twitter about from within the breathe of his bandmates' output, adding at times happy details. Then, a song later, he would take to the center without calling attention to himself or his playing. Equally important, and more conspicuous, Tunde Adebimpe's songwriting and daft stage presence contribute to the live experience.

So, armed with a vague optimism, I suppose I'll look for my other shoe before I go to see Broken Social Scene on Sunday.

Mess With Moose.....Get My Horns

Mrs. Bridezilla,

I won't bore you with the details of any consensus that was reached regarding your display of discretion and class, or lack thereof, the evening of your daughter's wedding. I will speak only for myself. Don't bother writing Moose again. When I picked up the mail yesterday and noticed your return address on an envelope, I intercepted your card. I have not shown it to her, nor will I.  I'd prefer she waste no more time thinking of you and your family, wondering if a benign indiscretion (during which she didn't act alone but for which she apparently does bear the brunt of your blame) could have possibly "ruined" your daughter's wedding. 

I would also like to clarify a point of contention: There was never any drink thrown at anyone. It is curiously even plausible for a person fighting with a bartender over NOT being served a drink to be able to throw one. It would seem the possession of a drink would negate the reason for the argument, no? Mr. Bridezilla's an attorney. Ask him for further explanation if my logic confuses you.

I can assure you Moose does regret arguing with the bartender/innkeeper over a drink . I find it interesting, however, that you are so eager to disregard a friendship which spans back through high school based upon the lies and/or exaggerations of someone you met over the course of planning this wedding, and all without even soliciting a response to these spurious allegations.

They say those in glass houses shouldn't throw stones. After your eavesdropping and ranting exploits, unbefitting the parents of any bride, I cannot fathom a reason you would feel compelled or justified in writing a letter to Moose. Again, I won't bore you with the details of your behavior. You were there. It is at least plausible you remember them.

Again, speaking only for myself, I wish your daughter and her new husband nothing but long lasting happiness. I just wish I hadn't gone through the trouble of attending their wedding. It is my feeling that the embarrassment is squarely yours.


Best Wishes,
Seamus 

Thank You Card

I found one in the mail yesterday from the mother of Bridezilla (see "Holy Matrimony" dated 10/7/08). Instead of thanks, however, she bestows her ill-conceived wrath upon Moose. She has unwittingly incurred mine. Stay tuned.  I'll be sure to post my response regardless of whether Moose allows me to mail it.  

The letter from Bridezilla's mother reads as follows:

Dear Moose,

Thank you for attending my daughter's wedding.  I wish for you, your mom & dad that none of your wedding guests are as disrespectful as you were at my daughter's wedding.  I was extremely embarrassed, shocked & mortified when I was told by the innkeeper about your behavior.  I wish you happiness.

Mrs. Bridezilla

Justice

Showtime

Californication is good, not great. If it were a book, it'd be a "page turner". Based upon hearty recommendations from reliable sources, I thought it was going to blow me away. Early indications seemed to reinforce this notion. Really rough around the edges, and chalked full of gratuitous nudity, this show seemed too good to be true.

Well, to be sure, there's plenty of nudity, but Californication is only rough around the edges on the surface. At times, I really like some of the ideas they play with, but all too often I feel like I'm watching Showtime's appropriation of Entrourage, as the heady cynicism that lured me in is showcased less and less as the season wears on. In the process, it becomes more and more apparent the minds behind the show either inadvertantly bestowed such a promising beginning, lost their ambition after writing only a couple episodes, or were successfully pressured into increasing the frequency and decreasing the relevance of lavishly ridiculous plot developments. Or maybe the novelty of the first couple episodes has simply worn off.

After a book of his is picked up and adapted for the big screen, David Duchovny's character uproots from New York to LA LA Land to assist with the film's production. Walking, talking wish-fulfillment with a good heart and a poet's soul, he lacks any hint of self-restraint. This often makes for some viscerally pleasing exchanges: He casually and unflinchingly punches a man at a charity event after having been told the man referred to his ex-girlfriend as a 'cunt', he sleeps with anything that moves (apparently, in LA, everything that moves is 6 ft tall and 120 lbs. with C cups), and he can't he resist the wiles of his ex-girlfriend and mother of his precocious daughter, the transparently still smitten though engaged to be married to another man, Natascha McElhone.

That said, I will likely Netflix season 2 once it becomes available.

On The Fence About How to Vote In November?

Get A Grip!

From Poop to Fuck Buttons..... All Very Sophisticated

At what point must we come to the aid of a work acquaintance who apparently shits himself each and every morning and remains completely oblivious to the funk?  How long must we continue the charade - eyes at times watering uncontrollably as I impatiently and uncomfortably breath through the mouth every time he comes near my desk or we happen to cross paths - before confronting the potentially face melting awkwardness?  Is there a way to tell a grown man you only know in a professional setting under the guise of business casual that he smells like poo poo?  I may just have to sit this one out after all.  It wasn't always like this. Maybe this too shall pass.  Maybe he just keeps forgetting to buy toilet paper.      

...................................

"Ryan" (unfortunately I know 46 Ryans) astutely pointed out all of my NFL picks were wrong last week.  As I've been consistently off base with my office pool picks, and also as I remain winless in fantasy football, perhaps before you lay down your bets this weekend, you should consult my blog and bet the farm in the opposite direction.  Think about it.  You could actually benefit from what I don't know.  That's rare.      

Speaking of football, I've decided to stop and smell the roses, having learned the Giants sit atop ESPN's first power rankings of this young season and subsequently basking in the afterglow, acknowledging the here and now as a time worthy of appreciation.  My favorite team in all of sports won an inconceivable Super Bowl last year and has followed it up with a 4 and 0 start.    As with many things, we often become fixated on results and in so doing fail to appreciate the journey.   

...................................

I've rediscovered Simple.  Though I can't say I've ever had a pair before, I think this will soon change in the near future.  Not necessarily the handsomest shoes I've ever seen, their eco-friendly product lines more than make up for it.  Simple has broken the mold, making a new one out of recycled tires and organic cotton.  I'll rationalize paying a premium for these shoes in the same manner I rationalize shopping at Whole Paycheck: taking business away from environmentally ambivalent companies and giving it to [more expensive] green ones, in the long run will help (in its little way) to expand the market for green products and pratices, or to at least drive down Whole Foods' prices. (I actually have no idea if this is an actual economic phenomenon.)

.....................................

 

Going to see TV on The Radio on MLK Day.  Speaking of which, I need to wrap my ears around their latest, Dear Science, ASAP.

Some other stuff I've sampled that I need to make a meal out of:  

Grizzly Bear

Fleet Foxes

Beirut

Hawk and a Handsaw

Fuck Buttons

Holy Matrimony

A day unlike any other; where the celebration of family, friends, and of enduring love revolves around the infinite beauty of the bride and her commitment to the groom, the intrinsic beauty of their relationship with each other, and their respective relationships with friends and family. Maybe a wedding doesn't write an enduring lifetime of happiness in stone, but at least the singularity of that day's happiness is. Surely, never has it been the day that lurking psychoses and curious resentments manifest themselves in the form of a sudden, inexplicable, drunken, unilateral family tirade that is thrust upon the childhood friends of the bride... Or maybe I haven't been to enough weddings.

Never noted for my ability to edit my own behavior, especially under the spell of an open bar, I can at least be thankful for my sanity (as far as the reluctant owner of an inexplicable black eye won at a different wedding a few weeks ago can be). Regardless, I do fancy myself an astute critic of others. As such, conveniently, my glass house is made of cardboard.

Despite empirical evidence to the contrary -like the acquisition of his own black eye by my second in command, Mortimer- we did manage to escape this wedding of horrors with our dignity intact, though under the shroud of early morning darkness, in order to avoid a mob of bloodthirsty yocels that would congregate, pitchforks and torches in hand, at our hotel room doors if we'd have stayed until sunrise.

It all started in the early evening of the night before, after a beautiful ceremony and a serene cocktail hour. Apparently, people began having a little too much fun. One of our compatriots had mysteriously come into posession of a tamborine. After banging the thing up over his head, and dancing around to the delight of the crowd, he began passing it off to others. The chosen would dance in the middle of a circle of clapping people, encorporating the tamborine as he or she saw fit. Amongst the chosen was an assortment of smiling geriatrics, the bride's family, the bride, the groom, and the two of them together. I vividly remember taking a step back to reflect upon the beauty consistently on display at this point during weddings. Time slowed down as I wheeled my head around the room, helplessly smiling in the glowing light of friends and relative strangers alike.

At some point the cup of formerly repressed resentment runneth over. Whether it was the brief but benign altercation between Moose and the bartender who had refused to serve her a beer at 10:01, or the ongoing revelry taking place on the dance floor, a convoluted and contrived line had been crossed. Though we didn't realize it at the time, there would be no turning back.

The sister of the bride pushed a fellow bridesmaid to the floor in her quest to make sure the dancing became less... dancy (?). As she curiously put it, "This isn't your wedding!" This bridesmaid on bridesmaid violence would be a precursor to a sequence of unprecedented behavior that saw the high school friends of the bride become the subjects of derision for what was officially declared to be willful attempts to overshadow the bride. This is more commonly known as dancing, smiling, and laughing.

After growing weary of the hostile stares flying around the room at the after-reception party, perhaps 12 to 15 of us ended up walking back to the hotel on the other side of the property. Little did we know, we had been followed by the bride and her mother. Our numbers briefly cut in half, I soon ordered my second in command back to our room to round up the balance of the exiled. To his surprise, the bride's mother was in the otherwise empty hallway with her ear pressed up against our hotel room door. He'd arrived just in time for the fireworks. Bride and mother burst into the room, slurs lobbed and fingers wagging, "Fake friends! Fake Friends! Why don't you all get the hell out of here! We don't want you here! Fake friends! You're all fake! We can't believe you! You've ruined this wedding!! You've ruined this wedding!!" Jaws fell to the floor. Tears were shed. No one was given the chance to respond. Nor could they have. The spectacle later culminated in the bride's father, from his room next door, punching our shared wall, screaming, "Fuck you! Fuck you all!" intermittently turning to his wife and daughter and adding, "I'm going over there! I'm going over there!"

Eventually, I assume, they went back to their after-party to salvage what remained of their daughter's special night. Conversely, we set our alarms for a 6:30 a.m. escape. I'll tell yah, the last time I was that quiet on a set of stairs, I was afraid of scaring Santa Claus away before he delivered our presents under the tree. This past Sunday morning, however, I feared being stabbed to death.

Check Out This Stick (Clip Courtesy of Munch)

Since this embed isn't working, click below, on "Kylar". That will take you where you need to be.

Kylar - Hosted by Putfile.com

If You Saw The Debate

I implore you to read this.

Basements

They're in.  Radiohead did it in Nigel Godrich's.  Broken Social Scene apparently did too; in support of Kevin Drew's release of Spirit If about a year ago.   Though I suppose their technical proficiency could be questioned (however unnecessary), their honesty and sonic breadth cannot: from the baroque post-rock of Feel Good Lost, the relative accessibility of You Forgot it In People, to Broken Social Scene, the collective's most recent album, which adorns a sound that my brother describes as ten bands playing at the same time.    I'm seeing these guys at the Wilbur Theater later this month.  Here's the band playing in a basement (Kevin Drew playing drums):

Basement Part II:

Mr. Drew all by his lonesome (music video):

And, although I just heard it for the first time, Brendan Canning's "Hit the Wall":

Wow

I was looking for the scene on YouTube from I Heart Huckabees where Jason Schwartzman confirms for Dustin Hoffman that he has transcended time and space..... errrrr...... "space but not time.....I don't know what you're talking about."  Don't ask me why.  What I found, however, is this crazy on-the-set fight between Lily Tomlin and the director, David O. Russell.  Really crazy.  Imagine continuing to work with someone after they've spoken to you like this:

For Those Of You Who Sit Around And Refresh This Blog For The Latest News

The Alabama v. Georgia game tonight is a blackout game.  And no, I'm not proudly proclaiming I'm going to drink too much tonight, I mean to say Georgia is going to wear black uniforms, and their fans are going to wear all black.  

Knowshon Moreno's from Jersey by the way.

Check out his coach talking about red shirting him:

End zone leap:

  

M.I.A./Moreno Remix:

Some Football Stuff

I'll attempt for the first time in a while to write something remotely substantive at some point this weekend.  In the meantime, however: 

This catch is ridiculous.  Absolutely ridiculous.  

How great is it that Oregon State defeated USC yesterday?  Pretty great I think.  If I were a violent person, I'd go out of my way to punch Pete Carol in the face.  His failure is my success.    

Tonight at 8:00 PM: Connecticut at Louisville
What's up with UConn?  Where do they get these kids?  Connecticut High School Football is terrible.  How is UConn slowly becoming a relevant football power, just a few years after entering Division 1A?    

Saturday, September 27:
3:43 PM ET Purdue at Notre Dame NBC 

Yeah.  You might not watch this one but I will.  Will Weis continue to stubbornly attempt running the football?  Or will he embrace the fact that his offensive line is inept and start spraying the ball all over the place?  Probably the former.  

7:00 PM ET No. 24 TCU at No. 2 Oklahoma 

Might as well change that "No. 2" to a "No. 1", provided Oklahoma can take care of business tomorrow night.  Though they haven't really played anyone yet this season, they have won by an average margin of just over 35 points.  

7:45 PM ET No. 8 Alabama at No. 3 Georgia

Marquee teams from THE marquee conference.  This is obviously THE must see game of the college football weekend.  And, since I hate the soulless mercenary Nick Saban, Go Bulldogs.     

  
8:00 PM ET No. 22 Illinois at No. 12 Penn State

Maybe Joe Pa isn't quite done.  Penn State mauled Oregon State 45-14.  Oregon State beat USC on Thursday.  Maybe the Big 10 isn't as bad as the pundits have been punditting.   

Cleveland at Cincinnati 1:00 PM CBS

I'm looking for Brady Quinn to take the helm at some point during this game.  You should look for it too.  If he does, Cleveland will feed off the shakeup and get off the snide.  

Minnesota at Tennessee 1:00 PM FOX

The Vikings have had their shakeup at quarterback.  Provided Adrian Peterson plays, look for Tennessee to come back down to Earth.  It was only a matter of time with Kerri Collins at the helm.    

Denver at Kansas City 1:00 PM CBS

Gimme a break.  Herm Edwards needs to be fired almost as much as Matt Millen did.  Just kidding.  He should be fired though.  I'll take Shanahan in this one.    

San Francisco at New Orleans 1:00 PM FOX

Injury ridden or not, New Orleans.  

Arizona at NY Jets 1:00 PM FOX

Look for AZ to take this one.  

Green Bay at Tampa Bay 1:00 PM FOX 

Green Bay.  

Atlanta at Carolina 1:00 PM FOX 

Atlanta.

Houston at Jacksonville 1:00 PM CBS Tickets

Jacksonville

San Diego at Oakland 4:05 PM CBS Tickets 

San Diego.

Buffalo at St. Louis 4:05 PM CBS Tickets

St. Louis is AWEFUL.

Washington at Dallas 4:15 PM FOX 

Dallas.  Washington will cover though.

Philadelphia at Chicago 8:15 PM NBC 

Philadelphia.  Toughest division in footall:  NFC East.  

MON, SEP 29:

Baltimore at Pittsburgh 8:30 PM ESPN

Baltimore.  Pittsburgh will not score much.  

·Bye: Detroit, Indianapolis, Miami, New England, NY Giants, Seattle

Lens Crafters

I thoroughly enjoyed myself at a wedding this past weekend.  Self-incrimination and feats of vapidity aside - including the origins of my black eye and chipped tooth - I was pleased to bear witness on numerous occasions throughout the weekend, and amongst mixed company in every sense of the phrase, to good friends and new ones voicing their contempt for all things Sarah Palin.  I was reminded on those occasions of "Sarah Palin Naked" from the Huffington Post on 9/11.    Keep your shirt on, she's not actually naked.   I don't necessarily agree with all of the sentiments set forth by Mr. Steitzman in his rant, but I am 100% behind his enthusiasm.   And I am fed up with the notion that it is rational to vote an every[wo]men into office.

  

Good New Songs I've Heard Today:

Pete Bjorn and John "Inland Empire"    

Eine Kleine Nacht Musik "La Serrenisima"

Grizzly Bear "Two Weeks"  

Goldfrapp "Little Bird" (Animal Collective remix)

Dutchess Says "Ccut Up"

See more Demetri Martin videos at Funny or Die

See more Demetri Martin videos at Funny or Die

See more Demetri Martin videos at Funny or Die

See more WillArnett videos at Funny or Die

See more Zach Galifianakis videos at Funny or Die

See more Zach Galifianakis videos at Funny or Die

To and Fro

We'll open with something light.  I've been way too heavy lately.  In general.  Need to lighten up.  

At my cousin's engagement party a few weeks ago my brother and I somehow ended up volleying songs and lines of our favorite "Winnie the Pooh" episodes back and forth.  Most people in our circle laughed, though I'm sure on some level they wondered if we were half-wits or stoners (or perhaps both).   I'm not sure whether it helped or hurt our intra-extended-familial stature when my sister candidly admitted she brought the Pooh tapes we were weened on with her to college.  Perhaps even more telling, the tao of Pooh apparently won over many of her friends.   

(At some point in the not too distant future, I hope to obtain footage of my brother's Pooh impression.  While I remember lines and can do a serviceable impression, he may as well replace the fraud who does the voices in all of the more contemporary rehashings.)  

I just got my car back from the body shop this afternoon.  Without my iPod for the commute, I was relegated to a choice between the radio and one of the 8 to 10 CD's that have been in my car collecting dust for just under a year now.  Actually not a very difficult decision.  I reached for the stack and pulled out CD that had been put into its case upside down.  Arcade Fire's Funeral.  As the album's been in my car, and subsequently has not been put on my iPod, I couldn't tell you the last time I spun it.  At one point this was as regular in my rotation as anything else.  While I can't say I've ever taken a close look at the lyrical content of Neon Bible -mostly because I don't really like it- Funeral is a fantastic album front to back. 

In a strange mood at least in part because of the gridlock traffic I was inching along in -weighty anger, determination, frustration, optimism, and apathy swinging to and fro like a pendulum- I was brought back to the present ironically by "Wake Up".  

Somethin' - filled up - my heart - with nothin' - someone - told me 

not to cry. - but now that - I'm older - my heart's - colder - and I 

can - see that it's a lie. 

children - wake up - hold your - mistake up - before they - turn the 

summer into dust. - children - don't grow up - our bodies get 

bigger. but - our hearts get torn up - we're just - a million little 

gods causing rain storms - turning every good thing to rust. - I guess 

we'll just have to adjust. 

with my lighning bolts a-glowin' I can see where I am going to be when 

the reaper he reaches and touches my hand. 

with my lighning bolts a-glowin' I can see where I am goin'. 

better look out below! 

The line: "children- wake up - hold your- mistakes up - before they turn the summer into dust" has always resonated most.  The idea that this is likely a reference to children and not twenty-somethings thankfully never took hold: technically, my summers turned to dust in 2003.  But I digress.  The notion that youthful mistakes - both careless and precocious - should be proudly displayed rather than hidden away, I find curiously optimistic in spite of the increasingly pessimistic light the song subsequently sheds on adulthood.  Perhaps it's the unapologetic tongue in cheek irony of the last line that keeps it from obscuring the emboldened taste in my mouth.      

  The only mistake of the album, as far as I can tell, was not placing Rebellion (Lies) and Wake Up back to back.  

Sleeping is giving in, no matter what the time is. sleeping is giving 

in, so lift those heavy eyelids. 

people say that you'll die faster than without water. but we know it's 

just a lie, scare your son and scare your daughter. 

people say that your dreams are the only things that save ya. 

come on baby in our dreams, we can live our misbehaviour. 

everytime you close your eyes lies, lies! 

people try and hide the night underneath the covers. 

people try and hide the light underneath the covers. 

come on hide your lovers underneath the covers. 

come on hide your lovers underneath the covers. 

hidin' from your brothers underneath the covers, come on hide your 

lovers underneath the covers. 

people say that you'll die faster than without water, but we know it's 

just a lie, scare your son, scare your daughter 

now here's the sun, it's alright! now here's the moon, it's alright! 

now here's the sun, it's alright! now here's the moon, it's alright! 

but everytime you close your eyes, lies!

My Morning Jacket

Since I drank too much before and during the concert to put together a remotely cogent account of the evening, I'll defer to some bootleg footage that can be found here.  Scroll below the ever infuriating O'Riley tirade on the September 9 entry.  This footage was actually recorded by a friend of a friend that we met over a few [too many, apparently] beers at a pre-concert barbeque.    

You can also see "Lay Low" from Saturday night right here:  

Defense

As much as I hate to admit it, this commercial is fantastic.

An Evening with My Morning Jacket

I'll be spending this evening with My Morning Jacket at the Bank of America Pavilion.   I bought these tickets quite some time ago.  As such, this concert fell off the radar, partly by design and partly as a function of time.  Currently, however, I'm chomping at the bit for this concert.  I can't really concentrate on any of the usual  Saturday domesticities.

Set Wishlist:

The Bear (live)

The Way that He Sings (live)

One Big Holiday (live)

Gideon (live

Librarian 

Smokin' from Shootin (live)

Remnants

What a Wonderful Man

Two Halves

Evil Urges (live)

I'm Amazed  (music video)

Wordless Chorus

It Beats 4 U (music video)

Dondante (live)

Off The Record (music video)

This list is getting ridiculous.  I'd like them to play their entire catalogue.  

  

Must See TV

**Admittedly, I pay little attention to the NFL pre-season.  This is due mostly to the litany of preseason games which mean nothing and are indicative of nothing.  Rather than waste my time, I simply begin stockpiling football boners for weeks 1 through 17.  This being the case, my "teasers" are a bit lacking.  That will soon change.    

Thursday, September 4:

Washington at Giants 7:00 PM NBC

Regardless of your alliances, this is the first game of the new NFL season.  

Saturday, September 6:

3:30 PM ET San Diego State at Notre Dame NBC 

Maybe this one's a must see depending on your alliances.

Sunday, September 7 
Seattle at Buffalo 1:00 PM Fox 

Which Seattle team is going to show up this year for Holmgren's last?  Is Shaun Alexander washed up?  If he is, what's Julius Jones going to do about it? 
Jacksonville at Tennessee 1:00 PM

Interesting quarterback matchup.  
NY Jets at Miami 1:00 PM CBS 

As sick as I had become of hearing Favre's name, and as ambivalent as I am about the Jets, I can't help but be interested.  Ironic too how Chad Pennington will face his replacement the first game of the season.   
Kansas City at New England 1:00 PM CBS

Will they pick up where they left of leading up to the greatest Superbowl in the history of football?  What's up with Tom's foot?   
Cincinnati at Baltimore 1:00 PM CBS

How will Joe Flacco look?  Will Ray Rice get some touches?  What's Cinci going to do this year? 
Carolina at San Diego 4:15 PM Fox

Look for LT to run with a chip on his shoulder.    
Dallas at Cleveland 4:15 PM Fox Tickets

Hoping Dallas fails miserably and Derek Anderson comes back down to earth, plays terribly, and yields the starting job to Brady Quinn.  
Chicago at Indianapolis 8:15 PM NBC 

Monday, September 8:
Minnesota at Green Bay 7:00 PM 

Can Ryan Grant carry the full load this year?  Can Adrian Peterson do it again?