You know we here at the Irreverent Times Journal like to be topical, so how about this: How about that health care, huh? Man, it sure would be nice if everyone had free health care. It'd be great because poor people could have health care and you could get sick and you could still have money afterwards. I think that would be great. Everyone could be alive forever! I'd like to give homeless people medicine myself! I also think I'd like unicorns to shit rainbows on my piles and piles of million dollar bills. Free health care for everybody!

And then there's the other side of the argument. Fuck poor people. If those lazy bastards would get off their lazy bastard asses and get a job, maybe they'd have health care. I don't want to have to pay for Johnny No Job Fatass No Exercise Triple Bypass Every Six Months Because He Can't Stop Eating FUCKING Quarter Pounders With Cheese Five Times A Day over there's health care. I run MILES and I eat SALAD and I'm so fucking healthy it makes me sick. Good thing I have health care, huh, you slobbering pile of human dung. I hope you die, which you probably will, because you can't afford health care and that's the way natural selection works.

I love politics.

I have a secret to share with everyone: I'm actually Dan Brown. It's true.

(Funny story I just thought of: The SAT-prep classes I used to teach included a passage on a female writer who used a pseudonym. One of my students raised his hand. "What's a pseudonym?" he asked. "Is that, like, a drug?")

I don't know how they make bananas out in Colorado or, for that matter, wherever you're reading this right now (hey, a callback to one of my other laugh-makers! [That's a term I coined for a joke. (And check it out -- embedded parentheticals! [This is like a greatest hits collection of lame jokes! (Laugh-makers.)])]), but here's how they make them (bananas -- I know, I forgot what I was talking about, too) in DC: I had a rule that I'd only buy two bananas at a time. This is because, while I like bananas, they are not, in fact, "the shit," as Gwen Stefani would have us believe. (I know the song says "this shit," not "the shit." But that song, I think most of us can agree, is just plain ol' "shit.") I appreciate a healthy potassium intake, but, honestly, after two bananas, I'm good for about a week. Thus, if I were to buy three bananas, that third one would, through a natural cycle of ripening, turn into a mushy mess in a matter of days. Now here's how they make bananas in New York: Bananas come bagged in packs of six. And these six bananas are very green and not at all ripe. So I bought a bag of bananas and just let them sit in my kitchen for a good four or five days. By that point, they were only just barely yellow. It's like they're injected with some ripening retardant. This is good because it means that I can probably get through the six bananas without wasting them, but it's bad because I had to just stare at my bananas for close to a week, wondering when I would actually be able to eat them.

The US Open started Monday night. I saw Venus Williams survive her first match, followed by Andy Roddick playing better than he's played in years. It's one thing to watch these matches on TV, but, in person, you can clearly see just how fast they're hitting these balls. I don't understand how every serve isn't an ace. Or, even if you make contact with the ball, how you can return it so that it lands in. Crazy.

Seriously, though: Buy my new book. The one that's got the guy doing the thing that he did in The Da Vinci Code and Angels & Demons. But, this time, it's totally different and not at all the same. I swear.

I like this blogging during the week, not blogging on the weekends thing we've got going on. It makes it look like we have lives and things to do on the weekend. I'm pretty sure we don't, but the illusion is nice.

I've tried twice to buy Lynyrd Skynyrd's "(pronounced le-nerd skin-nerd)" album. The first time, I didn't look at the record inside the sleeve and came home with a Who album I already own. This time, I bought it for a dollar (which should have been my first clue) only to find out the record is scratchy beyond belief. You can make out the music over the scratches, but it ain't pretty. So hopefully the third time is a charm because I'm not going to let this be my copy of this album, and this album kills. Go to hell if you want to make fun of my classic rock like my brother. He made fun of the fact that I got Jethro Tull's "Aqualung." Whatever man.

I have another hilarious anecdote from Skype at work:

[4:11:33 PM] Adam Jones: on an application to go to this school:
SPIRITUAL INFORMATION
13. Date of your salvation (or approximate):

[4:11:56 PM] Marta: you're joking right?

[4:12:07 PM] Adam Jones: nope

[4:12:09 PM] Marta: OH

[4:12:11 PM] Marta: wait i see

[4:12:23 PM] Marta: the day you said "yes, i take jesus to be etc so on and so forth"

[4:12:34 PM] Marta: not day you will be taken up into heaven in glowing white robes

[4:12:37 PM] Marta: hahaha

[4:12:38 PM] Marta: that's fantastic

[4:12:45 PM] Adam Jones: haha. yeah i think that's right

[4:12:46 PM] Marta: can i put down 12/4/1807

[4:12:48 PM] Marta: and claim previous lives

[4:12:51 PM] Adam Jones: if you're a WITCH

[4:12:57 PM] Marta: or will they look down on that?

[4:13:02 PM] Marta: i'm a heretic

[4:13:03 PM] Adam Jones: i think you probably will not get accepted

[4:13:11 PM] Marta: damn

[4:13:13 PM] Marta: oh wait

[4:13:20 PM] Marta: do you think they look down upon cursing too?

[4:13:27 PM] Adam Jones: they also require a current picture, so you can always hope that will overcome your going-to-hell-edness

[4:13:42 PM] Marta: what if it's a naughty picture?

[4:13:47 PM] Adam Jones: i think they do. they actually ask "19. Do you use the lord's name in vain __yes __no"

[4:13:48 PM] Marta: think that will help or hurt?

[4:13:51 PM] Marta: wow

[4:13:55 PM] Marta: what school is this?!

[4:14:03 PM] Adam Jones: i think that will help actually, from what i hear about pastors in the news

[4:14:20 PM] Marta: if i were a 8 year old little boy that might help too

[4:14:21 PM] Adam Jones: this is champion baptist college, and i made up that number 19

[4:14:29 PM] Marta: Champion Baptist

[4:14:30 PM] Marta: wow

[4:14:33 PM] Marta: wow

[4:14:34 PM] Marta: that's all i can say

[4:14:39 PM] Adam Jones: that's true. i bet if you sent in a picture of a naked 8 year old you would A)get into this school, and B)go to jail
---

Christian colleges are so weird dude. So weird.

I saw Funny People last night finally. Kind of funny, lots of good dick jokes, as per the usual with Apatow and crew. I appreciated what they were trying to do by making a serious funny movie, but Adam Sandler played his character with such despair that it was hard to be jovial, and I don't think the movie reached the goal it set for itself. Still not bad. Next up: Inglourious Basterds. Tomorrow, Cam and I brainstorm ideas for movies or shows that will make us so filthy rich I will spit on all of you poor jerks. Thursday, John and I catch up on what it's like being married/not married. Then the weekend. Partay?

Seriously, this blogging thing is out of control. Check it out: updates on Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, AND Friday of this week? That's almost a full week, according to my sources who know how many days in a week there are. (These sources, however, fail to tell me when something is horribly, horribly not funny. Which is why the joke you just read made it to press.)

The milk I buy around here has a weird name. Every time I go to pick it up, I always question my purchase. "Do I really need milk?" I say to myself. Because it's called Cream-O-Land. Yeah, kind of gross.

I went to the Museum of Modern Art today to check out an exhibition for grad school. More on this in a second. But, afterward, on my way home, I stopped to get some food. I ate in the restaurant and watched people, as I normally do. As I sat there, in downtown Flushing (which is the largest Chinatown I've ever seen), an Asian-looking guy came in. Now, this guy is probably close to my age, maybe a little older. But his distinguishing feature is his hair. It's like a mix of dreadlocks-meets-Marge-Simpson. It's ridiculous. And right there along with him was (who I can only presume to be) his attractive (and normal) looking white girlfriend. What gives? Why's he lucky enough to find a relationship while I, with decidedly average hair, am not? No justice, I tell you. No justice.

So, this MoMA exhibit. It's by a Chinese artist named Song Dong (let's keep the chuckles to a minimum, please). Here's a link with some pictures and a video. It's really an installation piece more than anything. It's a collection of stuff -- clothes, bottles, records, chairs -- that Dong's mother collected over the years. It's based around the Chinese concept of "waste not," which was part of their idea behind survival. So his mother would collect these things and never dispose of them because she never knew when they might end up being useful. Of course, most of these items are, admittedly, junk. It's stuff that you normally wouldn't ever find a use for. But Dong explains in a little mini-essay printed along one of the walls that the exhibit has two purposes. The first is an environmental message: look at the waste we accumulate. That's the easy one to grasp. But the second purpose was a surprise. After Dong's father died in 2002, his mother went through a severe grieving process. So what Dong suggested was that he and his mother sort and inventory all of their possessions. And that's what led to the display in the exhibit. It was a way for his mother to literally and figuratively reconstruct her life. To re-establish herself. To get her life in order. Dong also put a neon message along one of the walls written in Chinese. It translates to: "Dad, don't worry, mum and we are fine."

Maybe it's because my own dad died so close to Dong's. I don't know. But, for whatever reason, after reading that essay, his one piece -- a collection of junk -- evoked in me the most emotional reaction I had my entire time at the museum. None of the other pieces of art in that museum came close to affecting me as strongly. Oh, and the post-script to this is that his mother died just recently -- within the year.

But here's the reason I bring it up. (Finally! A point!) I feel like Dong's installation perfectly represents my view towards fulfilling works of art -- be it a book, movie, TV show, painting, whatever. It requires effort from the viewer. In this case, you have to read. You have to stop and spend fifteen minutes to read. But you're rewarded by learning about this very personal experience. However, other people who don't put in the effort, all they see is a collection of junk.

I'd just like to share a couple of conversations from work today with you all:

[3:05:43 PM] Adam Jones: yeah i've started checking out the gym at the top of my building because i have finally decided it would not kill me to lose 30 pounds or so. it also would not kill me to be able to shit gold, but both of those things have an equal likelihood of happening
---
That's not really a conversation, but I'm fucking hilarious. Next!
---
[4:18:00 PM] Adam Jones: only one of the three black people who went to school at this place graduated

[4:18:19 PM] Kelly: that is a horrible statistic! they should try and remove that one

[4:18:33 PM] Adam Jones: whereas one of the two hispanics did. therefore, hispanics are the superior race

[4:18:45 PM] Adam Jones: oh those are just the men

[4:18:55 PM] Adam Jones: every single one of the one black woman who went there graduated

[4:19:06 PM] Kelly: hahahah! women rule

[4:19:07 PM] Adam Jones: and neither of the two hispanic women did

[4:19:11 PM] Kelly: oh

[4:19:45 PM] Adam Jones: so actually the black race is far superior with a total of two out of four, versus one out of four for the hispanics. glad i settled that debate

[4:20:20 PM] Kelly: i don't really feel is was a participating member of this debat...but i'm glad you settled it
---
Also, I've listened to two of the three Bouncing Souls 7"s that I have from this 20th Anniversary series, and both of them have a weird thing where the record will not go onto song 4 from song 3. This is annoying because I have to get up, push the arm forward over the weird skipping part, and then I miss the first couple seconds of the song. I'm going to listen to the 3rd in the series in a couple of minutes, so we'll see if this is some kind of weird attempt at a "secret song" or what.

I don't really think I know very much about Ted Kennedy, but I was surprisingly saddened at his death. I mean I knew he was sick and probably at the end of his rope so it wasn't a surprise, but I kind of feel like a lot of the intelligence and grace was sucked out of the Earth's atmosphere.

Got my tickets in the mail for the Gaslight Anthem/Murder By Death/Frank Turner show today. That is going to be so good. Speaking of shows, the Avett Brothers (pronounced, much to my dismay, AY-vet) show was awesome. Wasn't real big on the first band, someone something and the Sound Outside. But the Avett Brothers killed it man. They take FOREVER between songs, but that's because they're switching instruments. The banjo player runs to the drums, the guitarist goes to a keyboard, the bass player goes from standup to guitar style bass. The crazy Asian cellist was awesome even if I didn't imagine a kung-fu master from the 80's to be in their tour band. The new album I and Love and You is going to be awesome from the few songs they played at the show, if a little more rock and a little less bluegrass. It was weird that they were on tour right BEFORE the album comes out so you couldn't buy it at the show and nobody knew any of the new songs. But whatever. Soon I will be getting tickets for Lucero in October. I'm glad they're coming back so quickly after the last debacle where I didn't buy tickets ahead of time and we went and could not get in. Lesson learned! Their new album sounds promising too, even if I'm not totally sure about the inclusion of horns and keyboards on almost every song. I pre-ordered the album and got like 5 songs in mp3 form and a couple of those are some of the best Lucero songs I've heard.

I kind of dig blogging again. I've been emailing myself stuff from work to blog about on here when I get home. About a third of that makes it, but at least I'm trying. Also I was motivated by Des in two ways. First, she started blogging. Second, she said "Brian blogs way more than you and I don't even know that guy." Take that, Brian! Or me. Take that, The Irreverent Times editorial staff.

Alright, here's the "thrilling" conclusion to this little trip to Arizona.

You come over a hill and there's Old Bisbee, houses seemingly placed at random on a mountain side. One day we drove around there. Terrifying one-lane-but-two-way streets at 70 degree angles lead from old colorful house to old colorful house. Bisbee has burned to the ground 3 or 4 times in its history, and it's no wonder. Not only would fire just work its way right up the mountain from the floor to the highest house very quickly, but there's no way a fire truck could make it around these hairpin turns at these angles. All you could really do would be stand back and watch until everything was gone, then rebuild.

Bisbee is an artist colony now, and artists are fucking weird. Houses are brightly colored and "interestingly" decorated. There are "art cars" (maybe you've heard of this, but I hadn't) that are basically old junkers with all kinds of shit glued to them. one had the Arizona desertscape "painted" on the side in differently colored bottlecaps, and lots of figurines glued to the top. One is a lion, one is a shark, one is Hillary Clinton. You'd think these cars would sit at a visible juncture as a testament to the artist's creativity, but these people actually DRIVE these things around. Artists are fucking weird.









The border to Mexico is pretty much what you'd expect, except that it cuts the town of Naco in half. There is Naco, AZ and Naco, Mexico, and the only difference you can see is the border guard station right there making sure you're not taking things into or out of either country. I did notice the people coming from Mexico into the US were detained longer than people headed into Mexico. Mexican school children were walking from their school in the US to their homes in Mexico. I wanted to walk into Mexico but I was told either I would be killed in drug violence immediately upon exiting the station, or I wouldn't be let back into the US because I didn't have I passport. I decided staring longingly into Mexico would do for now.

My hotel sits about 5 miles from the border. If you look out the window at night you can see the border wall all lit up. The wall is six miles long. Past the wall on either side is barbed wire, easy enough to cut through. Then there is miles of desert. Bushes to hide in. The border patrol is everywhere in southeast AZ, but it's easy with such a vast expanse of land to see how a lot of people could sneak by. Or die in the desert. Hundreds of people die out there each year. A couple of nights there were ferocious lightning storms behind a mountain miles into Mexico. It seems a world away, impossible to ever reach or see. I stare at it for minutes at a time and wonder what is happening there, only miles form here but another universe entirely.
The last morning in my hotel sink there is a scorpion. I scream like a little girl and run out. I don't shower. I'm sitting in the Tucson airport feeling pretty dirty and pretty wussy, but a two inch scorpion is basically the single scariest thing I've ever seen. I stared at it for a few minutes and could feel its beady eyes staring back at me, sizing me up. It was not as scared of me as I was of it.
Ev is a fascinating man. He worked for NASA for a while and let me hold a piece of the space shuttle's heat shield. It's surprisingly light and feels like a harder version of styrofoam. You can hold your hand under it while a blowtorch heats it until it turns bright read and you won't feel anything. It's about an inch thick.
I had several awesome meals. The best Italian food I've ever had was at Rosa's, a restaurant that' open when it feels like it and requires reservations - a strange combination. What wasn't a strange combination was the chicken and what seemed to be pounds of cheese. The next night we ate at a place called the Outside Inn, which, aside form its stupid name, was an awesome meal of veal and shrimp in sauce made from what I can only assume was God's blood. Well, back to Denver. Adios.


So that's the end. Pardon the changes in tense, as I wrote it at several different times and couldn't remember what I'd been doing. I am not a good writer. Also, please forgive the formatting. I give up.

The Christopher O'Riley show last night was awesome. He played for about two hours, not including the ten-minute break between sets. The first set was mostly stuff from his new album, but the second set was largely Radiohead-based. He opened the second set with "Airbag," "Subterranean Homesick Alien," and "No Surprises." Then he jumped into a three-song Elliott Smith block, circled back to a few songs from his new album, then closed with "Paranoid Android." His encore was "Fake Plastic Trees" and "You." It was pretty fantastic. If you feel like reading essentially the same thing, but a little bit longer (and with a picture), then you can check out the review from The New York Times.

The new Weezer album -- I can't even make myself say the title -- is just sounding worse and worse. The first single is apparently titled "(If You're Wondering If I Want You To) I Want You To." That's funny, because I most definitely DON'T want you to. Release this record.

So here's how strongly I dislike the idea of smoking cigarettes: The butane lighter I stole from a drunk guy at 5AM in Richmond back in 2002 finally ran out of butane. (Okay, okay. I can't just write a sentence like that and not reveal an amusing anecdote: This guy was so drunk that one of his friends, wanting something from the vending machine, told the guy that he had to fork over some cash quickly because "the vending machines are closing soon." It worked. Because this guy was just that drunk. So my stealing his cool lighter wasn't some deftly performed theft, it was just me waiting until he passed out.) Anyway, so I had to buy a new lighter. I figured the local Walgreen's would be a good place to go. I walked in and quickly realized I had no idea where they would keep lighters. I had a hunch that they'd be behind the counter along with the cigarettes, but I wasn't sure. So, after a couple minutes of searching, I went up to the front with nothing in hand. I confidently asked the cashier (because, come on, I didn't want to make it seem like I had no fucking clue where the lighters were) for a lighter. The cashier turned around and there, practically on the floor, completely not visible at all, were the lighters. Then she asked me what color I wanted. This question threw me off. "Uh, whatever," I said. "Red okay?" she responded. "Yeah, sure," I said. So I got a red lighter. People who know more about these things than me: does the color of a lighter mean anything? If so, what does getting a red one mean? Is this like reading one's tea-leaves?

Anyway, the point is, buying the lighter caused extensive-and-long-lasting psychological trauma that will require years and years of-- okay, I'm over it. I just felt weird, that's all.

Weezer has announced the title of their new album. The one with the previously mentioned "I'm Your Daddy," "The Girl Got Hot," and "Can't Stop Partying." The title? Raditude. However, using the power of the internet, I was able to obtain a list of other titles Weezer was throwing around:

• Slushie Bong
• Tuboobular
• Brahsome
• Radical (Rivers Cuomo deemed this title "too tame.")
• Rock Cock
• Funksicle
• Charles Gnarly (later scrapped when the band worried too many people would confuse it with popular musical act Gnarls Barkley.)
• Booze Groove
• Rockrageous
• Roid Rage

Edit: Whoa. In the time it took me to come up with these stupid names, Adam made an actual post. Sorry, "brah," didn't mean to steal your thunder.

So I'll be posting this travel journal in sections, because I'm lazy and it's a lot to read at once. I'll also be putting in images, provided I can figure that out, where appropriate. Prepare to be dazzled! But first, the intro. I called this "Prologue" in my journal, but I'm going to amend that title to "Adam Bitches About Flying." Enjoy!

The thing about flying is it sucks. Not the actual flight, but the amount of time you have to prepare for it. An 8:17am flight on the surface doesn't seem that terrible, but when you factor in getting to the airport an hour in advance, you're at 7:15. The shuttle from the parking lot makes it 6:45. The drive to the airport makes it 6:00. Waking up and getting ready makes it 5:30. At the latest.
Then there's the airport. People don't know what the fuck they're doing in the airport. I'm not saying I'm the world's most experienced traveler, but so far I've yet to meet an airport that was exceptionally difficult to figure out. Signs point you to check in, baggage claim, your airline, etc. People stand dazed in front of the self help kiosks, as if the concept of reading and hitting buttons on a screen is totally new and foreign. I wouldn't care about any of this, but the legions of the lost and the damned milling about in the airport makes it a maze of zombies and a painful waiting game behind the clueless.
Flying is by far the most painless part of the experience. After paying $10 for an eight inch sub at the airport and waiting for 45 minutes for the gates to open with children screaming and running around and their parents pretending not to notice, you can finally board the plane and wait for another half hour on the plane for grown adults to figure out the plane's cryptic seat numbering system. Inevitably, someone will ask you to switch seats with them because somehow they didn't get seats with their companion, and God forbid they have to be apart for an hour and a half. I've gotten used to saying no and not feeling guilty about it because it's always someone who wants me to give up my aisle or window seat in row six to move to their seat between the two largest people on the plane right in front of the rear bathroom, so A) you can't lean back, and B)you can tell what 50 people had for dinner the night before. The reason flying is the best part of flying is once all that's over with, you can put on headphones, close your eyes, and ignore everyone until it's time to land.

And now, I present Section A, Part 1, The Drive from Tucson to Bisbee, or, Why Does Adam Love the Desert So Much?

I worked for Hertz but I'm renting a car from Enterprise. The Tucson airport is so insignificant that I don't actually remember anything before getting to the rental car place. I must have walked through an airport to get there, but your guess is as good as mine as far as what it was like. In Denver when you rent a car there's a manned gate when you're leaving the lot with a guard who verifies that you're in the right car and have permission to take it. In Tucson you get in and drive away.
I fell in love with the desert the first time I saw it at 17 during the Trista years. I'm reminded now of why that is. This place is the Old West. On the two hour drive to Bisbee there are few other cars. Aside from the highway you can look as far as you can see and see nothing but bushes, short trees, and dirt. I have never been able to do the desert justice. It is nature untouched. It's so easy to imagine the pioneers and their wagons making their way to their new homesteads.

Tombstone is a tourist trap full of leather clothing stores, trinket shops, and cowboy hats. That said, standing at one end of the street and looking down it, it's easy to imagine you're back in the Old West. Some of the more well maintained buildings are full of interesting 1800s memorabilia. Bullet holes still in the walls and roofs, stairways to the whore rooms. I looked into the mirror at the bar that every famous wild west cowboy sat at and stared into. I also saw the least appetizing fudge I've ever seen. Dead bees in the food case is not good.

Bisbee is an old copper mining town. I had no idea there were mountains down here, but this town is in them. It reminds me of a Colorado mountain town the way it is just built onto the side of a hill.

The directions I had said "you will pass a big hole in the ground." The Lavender Pit is not a big hole in the ground. It is a slice carved out of the earth. More than a mile across and hundreds of feet deep, it shimmers copper and silver. There is a 12 foot deep "lake" at the bottom that looks like a small puddle from above. You can see turquoise shining in places that the mining company abandoned because turquoise is of no use to copper miners. There's a turquoise jewelry store right aboce the pit that I didn't go into because I have no use for turquoise jewelry. From the road you can't see the bottom of the pit. I'm pretty sure jumping in would be a good way to commit suicide.


That's enough for today. I'll do the rest, or part of the rest, sometime soon. Tonight I go see the Avett Brothers! Tomorrow I go see District 9! Alright!

I am back from Arizona. I have pictures and I wrote a little journal while I was out there. That will be up sometime. I'm filthy and need to take a shower, so that's what's happening now. But be prepared for the most intense blog entry I've ever made. Maybe. (Maybe as in, maybe it's the most intense, and also, maybe I'll actually do that)

Top 5 Beatles Rock Band Songs:
1. While My Guitar Gently Weeps
2. Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band/With a Little Help from My Friends
3. I'm Looking Through You
4. I am the Walrus
5. Helter Skelter
6. Get Back
7. Don't Let Me Down
8. Come Together
9. Back in the USSR
10. A Hard Day's Night

Those are not 5, nor are they in any particular order, but they're the 10 I'm most looking forward to. 11 is the fucking Abbey Road full album download, because fucking Abbey Road is the best fucking album ever made. Pardon my french. Fucker.

Greetings. It's been a busy week around these parts. ("These parts" being New York. Not Bisbee, AZ. Though I can assume that Adam had a non-stop week of drunken debauchery in a place called Bisbee, AZ.) Tuesday night wasn't a huge deal. Just went to the gigantic Barnes and Noble in Union Square where Regina Spektor played a handful of songs for free. You know, your typical yawn-fest. Tell me when something exciting happens around here.

In all seriousness, though, it was awesome. It was part of the Upstairs at the Square event, where writers and artists share the stage. Sadly, the entire crowd was there for Regina. No one seemed to know the name and/or gender of the writer. (It was a guy. Don't ask me for his name, because I don't know it. But hey, I do know it's a guy, at least. [Actually -- and this is just an excuse for me to use an embedded parenthetical -- his name is Kurt Anderson. You can check out a video of the performance/reading here.])

Yesterday was another big day. I went to go see a taping of The Daily Show. It involved lots of waiting around, but it was totally worth it. After the show, Jon came out and discussed the health care issue with us. He wanted to hear some people's opinions in the audience. I already admired the guy, but this was just incredible. It wasn't a long discussion -- five minutes, maybe -- but still. Just the fact that he took the time to hear what we had to say, then to respond extemporaneously and articulately. Damn, it was cool.

After that, I went to the movie theater in Union Square for the nation-wide live screening of the Rifftrax event. I can see I've probably lost most of you. You were on board for Regina Spektor and The Daily Show. But what the hell is Rifftrax? After the (second [and final]) cancellation of Mystery Science Theater 3000, three of the primary writers/cast members formed a similar venture called Rifftrax. Same exact idea as MST3K: they take cheesy movies and add their own commentary that makes the movie hilarious. Last night they did a live riffing of Plan 9 from Outer Space. Now, I had never seen Plan 9 before, but I'd heard it's considered one of the worst movies ever. And, sure enough, it's bad. Real bad. But it's so bad it's funny. The commentary was pretty good, but there were times when I just watched the movie itself and laughed.

On the horizon: Christopher O'Riley Monday night. I cannot wait. He takes popular songs (mostly Radiohead, but his new album is a bunch of different artists) and transforms them into solo-piano pieces. Unfortunately, the songs up on his MySpace page aren't my favorites, but it gives you a sense of what he does. I'm really hoping he plays "Fake Plastic Trees," "Black Star," "Let Down," and "Karma Police." We shall see.

Post #76! Yeah! Take that, other blogs that update every day! What?

Time for the weekend update. And by "weekend," I really mean "Saturday," as that was the eventful day of the weekend. Started by going to see Bubble, a band that will occasionally perform as a Beatles cover band. They did the entire Sgt. Pepper's album straight through. Very awesome. They were also accompanied by a full band, which made numbers like "A Day in the Life" all that much better. After they finished Sgt. Pepper's, they performed six tracks off Magical Mystery Tour: "Strawberry Fields Forever," "Magical Mystery Tour," "The Fool on the Hill," "Penny Lane," "I Am the Walrus," and "All You Need is Love." It was a really neat show. And completely free, I might add.

After that, I read in Central Park for close to two hours. Then I met up with Janine, who showed me a cool Venezuelan restaurant called Caracas. They serve some great arepas, but the guacamole-based dip in their chips-and-dip is incredible. Seriously, the best dip I've ever had with chips. Then we washed it down with this sugary-lime concoction that was way more refreshing than Sprite will ever be.

Now to tackle a couple of previously discussed points, starting with the "hall of mirrors." This remains one of Spooky's favorite attractions in the apartment. I took some pictures, thus proving two things: 1)That he really does exist. And 2)That it really is "drippy, dude," as I so articulately stated. So yeah, trip out, man.



(Maybe you noticed I'm brushing my teeth while taking these pictures. Again, professionalism!)

Finally, yes, The Beatles: Rock Band. Amazing. I'll be picking it up and then going to class. That class will feel interminable. Then I will return to my apartment and bask in the glory that will be this game. It's too bad, Adam, that we have different consoles, as it'd be cool to play this co-op. Quick, the top 5 (er, let's make that 10. I had too much trouble with just 5) songs you're most excited to play:

1. Twist and Shout
2. Revolution
3. And Your Bird Can Sing
4. While My Guitar Gently Weeps
5. Octopus' Garden
6. Here Comes the Sun
7. Paperback Writer
8. With a Little Help from My Friends
9. I Feel Fine
10. Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds

And I'm psyched about the full-album downloads, but I hope Revolver comes out soon. As does Help!.

I'm sitting here listening to the Rise Against 7" that Fat put out and I'm thinking how sad it is that Rise Against is forced to put out their two excellent hardcore punk songs on this medium instead of throwing them onto their CD and breaking up the mid-paced pop-punk monotony that I'm assuming the major label forces them to fill their CDs up with now. I'm not saying that their albums recently have been bad, but it wouldn't hurt to actually put some punk rock songs on there. Listen to the newest one and tell me you don't miss the few harder songs from RPM. That said, Savior is really fun to play on drums in Rock Band.

Speaking of Rock Band, if you're not standing outside your local Best Buy at this point awaiting the release of Beatles Rock Band, you don't know what you're doing. As I type this, the anticipation in this parking lot is growing faster than something that grows fast. And I'm the only one here waiting. So think about that. Seriously though, I might have to quit my job and forsake my friends when that game comes out. I hope no one has a birthday anytime within a couple weeks of 9/9, because I won't remember. I also hope no one wants to go to dinner or do anything, unless they want to come over and play Beatles Rock Band. This game is going to be so sick. So, so sick.

Now I'm listening to the Gaslight Anthem Sink or Swim Demos 7". And I'm excited to report that I will be going to see them with this awesome lineup: Them, Murder by Death, The Loved Ones, and Frank Turner. Hell yes. I'm also going to see the Avett Brothers with my sister in a couple of Saturdays. Hell yes. I love love love being close to concerts. In sadder news, I'm sorry to report that I missed the RX Bandits, et al tour that Brian saw when it came through Denver. Next time. I'm also saddened to report that I missed Gomez when they came through town because I had to go to a work conference. The worst part of that was that we already had tickets and I had to stand up Cam because I'm a loser and didn't equate the dates of this work thing and the concert. Oh well. They'll come around again. I hope.

Now I'm watching Lost. I decided to start it all over again to see if I could pick up on some things I didn't get the first time through or don't remember. I've become aware that there are people in this world who don't watch Lost, and in fact are pretty adamant about never watching it. I don't really understand this phenomenon. Lost is one of the most beautifully shot, interesting shows I have ever seen on TV. It's amazing the job that the show's creators did building mysteries and more or less logically solving them, seasons later. Watching the show again from the beginning, I've picked up on things in season one that aren't answered until season five. It's pretty unfathomable to me that the people working on this show had an entire incredibly complicated six-season story planned out from the very beginning, but it kind of looks like either they did, or they've got a remarkable ability to come up with this stuff off the tops of their heads and make it look like they had it all planned out. With the first four seasons out on DVD, the fifth in the books, and the final season being prepped for early next year, I'd really encourage everyone to go get the first four seasons, watch them from the beginning, and see what you've been missing. If you've already seen the show, I'd recommend watching it again to remind yourself of what happened in the beginning before the soon to be totally awesome or totally terrible final season comes on.

Well, I'm off to Bisbee, AZ. I'll be back on Friday. Sayonara.

I am alive and well. I know you were all concerned. Let's all thank Brian for forging ahead with this thing and doing his best to break the single year record for posts on this, the world's absolute best and most essential blog... IN THE WORLD!

Let me illustrate the differences between working at a soulless, faceless, cold hearted corporation and working for a small company. I see my boss every day. I feel like I'm actually working towards something. In three and a half years at Hertz I never did anything fun. Our meetings were held quickly over the phone in the back office and usually involved me getting yelled at for stuff I had little to no control over. In three weeks at Morton Publishing I have been paid attention to, went to Vail for a long weekend/sales meeting, and generally had a good time. Plus I get paid the same thing I used to and I work probably 15 hours a week less than I used to. Ah, publishing.

Also, now I live in Denver, which is good because: A) I can walk to dinner at a number of fine establishments; B) I can get to most concerts in less than 20 minutes; C) The cityscape out my window at night is awesome; D) There are people my age down here, and people of other races; E) I can walk to an awesome record store that specializes in punk and indie records; F) Other; G) All of the above. However, it's also bad because A) I don't know many people here; B) It's EXPENSIVE; C) This place has no parking, which means street parking, which means long walks sometimes and parallel parking, which has never been one of my strengths; D) The water in my apartment is sometimes disturbingly brown. But, what the hell. Might as well try city living while I'm young, single, and oh so sexy.

I am watching the news. The news is stupid. I don't want to hear about why the news isn't stupid, because it is. I'm watching a story about kids going to college. Kids going to college are stupid. I don't want to hear about why kids going to college aren't stupid, because they are. Except I have them to thank for buying our books and keeping me employed. Also, with the news, the stupid little banter they have between stories is stupid. I don't want to hear... well, you get the picture.

I hate not having a DVR. I am watching commercials again, and they suck. I hadn't watched commercials in years and it was awesome. So what I do instead now is watch way more DVDs and Netflix on demand on the Xbox. So let's talk about commercials real quick. Have you ever been influenced to buy or do something because of a commercial? Like sure, when I see a new food come out at a place that I like to eat, I want to go try it. But have you been influenced to buy Charmin because of a commercial? Have you been influenced to get new carpet because of a commercial? I think most people go to the bathroom or talk to each other or change the channel when commercials come on. So it just seems like a weird format. Nobody pays attention to them, but we have to have them because they pay for the shows that we watch. If they didn't pay for the shows, we'd have to pay way more for TV probably. I also take offense with the fact that I have to pay money to watch people try to sell me things, but whatever. This long, winding, nowhere-going argument for and against commercials has been brought to you be Pepperidge Farm's Goldfish: now with Flavor Blasted Xtra Cheddar flavor in those huge cartons that will feed you for six months.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaadios

Interesting (perhaps) fun (questionable) fact (undisputed): In my 25 years of existence, I've never once cut myself while picking up glass. Interesting and fun, huh? Now, it's not like collecting and disposing of glass shards is a pastime of mine. This isn't an everyday occurrence. I don't hold the world record for "Most Amount of Glass Picked Up in a Single Lifetime." (Though I often wish I did.) Still, when the situation arises, I can swoop in, get things back to order, and we don't have to break out eight feet of gauze.

Insert the "you can predict what happens next" music...

So, today I cut myself while picking up glass. It kinda hurt. And, for such a tiny puncture, I was surprised at how much blood came out. Not gushing, but definitely flowing. Thankfully, I didn't end up needing gauze (though, while I was sitting by the sink, rinsing out the wound, I wish I had some), but I did go through a few band-aids in about ten minutes. And now I have a band-aid wrapped around the tip of my finger, which makes typing all of this out rather difficult. But that's just how dedicated I am (to the cause of updating you with mundane goings-on in my life).

Also, I apologize for the graphic nature of this post. I should've posted a warning at the top. I understand if you're feeling queasy. I also understand if you laughed just now while reading the word "queasy." It's really very hard for me to take anyone who says "queasy" seriously. Anyway, if you're feeling nauseous, I apologize. As a result, I think we can just gloss over why, exactly, I had to pick up broken glass. No need to discuss the details. It's safe to assume I was acting in my ever-present sound judgment and surely not doing something boneheadedly stupid. Like, say, trying to hang a picture frame containing a vinyl record by a single thumbtack. Ha! Who'd even TRY that?

I don't know what it takes to become an honorary British citizen, but I feel like I'm halfway-to-six-elevenths of the way there. (Fractions were never my strong suit. Maybe because, deep down, I'm better tailored for the METRIC SYSTEM? [I realize they still use fractions with the metric system, but I was going for the cheap joke. (Guess it didn't PAY OFF! [Sorry. (Man, I really love embedded parentheticals, huh? [Totes!])])]) (Speaking of embedded parentheticals, when I finally tie the loose ends together, it looks like some tricked-out emoticon. [Maybe a double-or-triple chinned emoticon? (I like that!)])

What the hell was I talking about five minutes ago? Oh, right. Honorary British citizen. I saw In the Loop and I've been rewatching "The Thick of It." I'm reading The Rachel Papers by Martin Amis. I've been listening to a bunch of Beatles records to prep for the sure-to-be-awesome Beatles: Rock Band. And... I feel like there's one more thing, but I can't think of it.

So, next time you see me, you can go ahead and call me Sir Brian. I'm sure the whole knighthood thing is customary with becoming an honorary citizen, right?

I thought In the Loop was fantastic. If there's a theater around you that's showing it -- and you're not offended by some goddamn, motherfucking, cock-balls-arse language -- then I'd recommend checking it out. Seriously, there's a shitload (sorry, had to) of obscenities. Makes a Kevin Smith movie seem PG. Still, it's all in the name of hilarity.

Okay, now for the real reason I'm posting. I've started writing a quasi-joke poem and I couldn't think of the word I needed. In fact, I still don't know what the word is. Something along the lines of "to say something deep." But in one word. I had "philosophize," but that just doesn't quite seem right. I feel like there's a different, better word. After a few minutes of fruitlessly searching dictionary.com, I type in "say something deep," knowing that it's not going to give me what I need. Instead, I get the following result, via Ask.com: "What are some deep things to say to a girl you want to hook up with?" This is the question posed by a user at Yahoo Answers. Here's the post, verbatim:

Theres this really cool girl ive known for about 2 years and i think we both really like each other but were not officially bf&gf what should i say to her thats really deep ive already tried alot X-x help?

After a handful of answers along the lines of "be yourself," "be nice," blah blah blah, we get to the REAL helpful advice:

Oh dang lets bang

tell her you want to feast on her snatch like thanksgiving dinner BOOOOYAAAA!

i love u and suck my cock pls

Man. If only I had Yahoo Answers in high school.

Check it out. Soon enough, we're going to break our own world-record-setting 75 posts in a given year. This one right here is number 70. I guess I shouldn't jinx anything, though.

I don't know how they run shows out in Colorado (yes, I'm using the ambiguous pronoun "they" because, honestly, I don't know all the intricacies of running a concert), or, for that matter, wherever you're reading this right now, but here's how they run them in DC: If the website says 8PM, that usually means doors are at 8 and music won't start until 8:30, 8:45. Also, if the website says there are four bands playing, I would assume the first band gets maybe 25 minutes, the second band gets 35-40, and the third and fourth bands get an hour or so. Now here's how they do things in New York: If the website says 8PM, the music actually starts at 8PM. If the website says there are four bands, they're lying, because there are really only three. So when an unsuspecting audience member (me) arrives at 9PM expecting to see the second band, it turns out he (me) missed that second band (As Tall As Lions) because they were, in fact, the first band and, moreover, they began promptly at 8. Damn.

I did get to see Dredg in their entirety, as well as Rx Bandits. Both put on a fantastic show. I was surprised that the majority of the crowd was there for Rx Bandits. They went pretty wild during the Bandits' set. Lots of singing along, some crowd-surfing, and even some borderline moshing. Pretty wild. My thanks to Justin Bridgewater, who put me on the guest list and got me VIP status. (i.e. I got to stand on the not-at-all-crowded balcony right by the stage. It was nice.)

My ongoing enjoying-the-fruits-of-the-city-as-well-as-using-hyphens-to-join-words adventures continue today: I'm going to see a movie that's only in limited release. I'm expecting good things from "In the Loop," a British satire/farce of politics/war. It's written and directed by the guy (team?) who did "The Thick of It," a British TV show that's a satire/farce of politics. And since I enjoy "The Thick of It," I'm expecting to like "In the Loop."

My cat is adjusting to the apartment pretty well. I'm on the first floor and some landscapers just came by to mow the lawn, which freaked him out. But, other than that, he seems relatively mellow (for him, anyway). I still worry that this space is too tiny for him, but there are a few attractions that seem to entertain him. Of note: jumping from my bed onto a bookshelf, hopping on counters in the kitchen, and the "hall of mirrors" I make in my bathroom. That one even entertains me. It's trippy, dude.

I could have just commented on Brian's post below, but I also wanted to ring in with a full post devoted to this:

Weezer has become the worst band in the world. Oh. My. God. It's a travesty. I wish they would change their name to avoid completely sullying their earlier work. I guess when I'm talking to my kids about Weezer I'll just probably tell them that Weezer released two albums: Blue and Pinkerton. Everything after that was some foreign band who evaded copyright and trademark laws and came out five years later with a string of progressively worse euro trash pop. Let's just go with that. When it comes to Weezer, I can totally stop partying. And unless the reviews for this new album come out saying that aside from the three new songs I just kind of started to listen to it's awesome, my Weezer days are over. Really sucks, because they did release two of the absolute best albums I've ever heard. Ah well.

Thanks for the mini-reviews of the Rock Band songs, Adam. I went ahead and picked up the Rise Against, Rancid, and Weezer packs. I play guitar for the most part, but I've finally broken several skill barriers on the drums, thus allowing me to finish most of the songs on expert. Maybe not well, but it's passing. Anyway, haven't tried them on drums yet, but I'll take your word for it that they're fun.

Speaking of music, let's talk about Weezer for a second. For reasons unknown to me, I still visit punknews.org on a daily basis. Sure, I've outgrown 99.9% of new punk music, but I still check in. Today, there's a blurb about Weezer unveiling three new songs during a recent live show in South Korea. "Okay," I think. "That's kind of cool." And then I read the titles of these tracks: "I'm Your Daddy," "The Girl Got Hot," and "Can't Stop Partying." Then I listen to the YouTube videos of the songs and turn them off before making it halfway through each song. It's just awful. So what the hell happened to Weezer? Playing Weezer's back catalog on Rock Band reminded me how good the Blue Album and Pinkerton are. Even the Green Album is a strong offering, compared to these songs. Does Rivers Cuomo think he's still a teenager? Is he stuck in some bizarre time-warp where, to himself, he doesn't age but, to everyone else, he does? Honestly, the only explanation that would make me happy is if these three songs are part of an upcoming concept album poking fun of a band who can't grow up. But something tells me they're not that clever. They're still hungover from all the partying. (Really?)

Great! Alright, so here we are. My first post in Denver. And this one goes out to Brian.

I did buy the Rock Band packs for both Rancid and Rise Against. I can only tell you how they are on drums, because that's really all I play, but both are pretty damn fun on drums anyway. I'm sure they might be a little more boring on guitar because the punk tracks generally seem to be pretty bland on guitar. But if you're a drummer, you should go for it.

Beatles Rock Band will cause me to lose my job and probably all my friends as well. I'm so fucking excited for that game it makes me ashamed of myself.

The new job at the publishing company is good. Right now all we're doing is sampling books to college professors to see if they'd be interested in buying them. But really, all that matters to me is that instead of working 7 to 6 like I did at Hertz, I am working 8 to 4:30, and I am so much happier than I have been in years. People at the job are cool, I have a lot of energy, I live in the city, the view from my apartment is sweet, and I can walk to a kick ass record store. So things are good. Only bad things are parking (street parking can kiss my ass) and elevators (one of the three elevators is generally working, which as you can imagine is awesome for a 15 story apartment building). Good things associated with that: exercise! Walking fifteen minutes from my parking spot and up nine flights of stairs should kick my ass back into shape.

I'll write a full post later on. Also, the Weezer track pack is good this week, and the Blink 182 one isn't bad either. I fucking love Rock Band. Cool beans.

Here's what's going to happen here: This post is totally directed to Adam, but anyone can join the discussion. Sure, I could have just sent him an email, but that's soooooooooo 20th century. These days, only the Amish email.

So, Adam (and everyone), did you buy any of the new tracks for Rock Band this week? If so, I'm curious as to your thoughts. I've looked at the charts and the Rise Against and Rancid packs both look entertaining enough. I was just wondering what your opinion was.

Also, how about that Beatles: Rock Band, huh? Game looks amazing. Cannot wait. Super glad they have "Twist and Shout" on the disc, as that's one of the Top 5 songs I was hoping for.

While I'm at the questions directed to Adam, what's your new job at the publishing company? And when does it start up? Have you moved yet? Anyway, congratulations on the big move!

Email. Pshaw.

Big news around these parts, huh? Adam packing up and moving to Denver. Me packing up and moving to New York City. Or Queens. Close enough. Crazy.

So, yeah, my unpacking is pretty much complete. I need to buy another bookshelf to store the crazy amount of books I have, but, other than that, I'm in good shape. My living room is completely set up and looks amazing, if I do say so myself. All that's missing is some high-quality artwork made from various artist friends of mine (thanks, Ben, Chris, and John). And the reason that's missing is because I'm an idiot and forgot to pack thumbtacks/nails. But, once I get the proper supplies, you can expect some one-of-a-kind stuff to line these walls.

This is getting too self-indulgent, my self-indulgent meter is telling me. Watch me dodge the topic by talking about As Tall As Lions. I last brought them up in April, when their self-titled album made my list of Top 25 albums. That album, oddly enough, is not their debut CD. Their debut is an album called Lafcadio. For the longest time, I thought that the self-titled album was a stronger album. And, for a new listener to the band, I think it is. However, Lafcadio is still an incredible, incredible album. It's slower, mellower, and takes its time delivering the goods. But if you're patient (I've had this album for about five years now), then it'll pay off. Hugely. Tremendously. Now, I'm not saying that it takes five years to fully grasp the brilliance of this record. But what I am saying is that this CD has stuck with me for this long and I'm only now getting to a point where I think it's nearly flawless. I can't say that about too many of my other records. So check them out, if you get a chance.

And I'm back. Sorry about that. Of course, when you're reading this, no time will have passed. But, for me, while I wrote this, twenty minutes passed. In that time, I decided to look up As Tall As Lions' MySpace page. Once there, I discovered that they not only have a new CD coming out that you can pre-order (I did), but also are playing a show at Irving Plaza next week. Neato! (My use of the word "neato" automatically negates any cool/hip connotation I hoped to affix to said show.)

So, there you have it. Looks like the first show I'll be seeing here in New York isn't going to be The Weakerthans in September. But it'll be As Tall As Lions, RX Bandits (!), and Dredg (!!) all in one place. Neato!

This won't be long because I'm busy packing. That's right, I'm packing and I'm moving to Denver. I got a job at a publishing company down there and I'm done renting cars, and I'm done with this little town, and I'm done with roommates, and I'm pretty much done with everything I've known for the past three and a half years. So yeah, Brian moved to New York, I (will have) moved to Denver. Aren't we just real people now. Wish me luck. Wish him luck. Wish yourselves luck. I'll see you on the other side.

Brian here. Before I delve into the review of our crappy home videos (spoiler alert: they're crappy. Well, kind of.), I have some fun facts I'd like to share.

I'm watching the Wimbledon men's quarterfinal matches as I type this. Federer is playing a monstrous Croatian named Ivan Karlovic. This guy is 6'10" and has a massive serve. This is how good his serve is: He's won the last 129 service games he's played. What?! No one he's played in the tournament has broken his serve. Every time it's his time to serve, he wins the game. For 129 times in a row. That's crazy.

But here's how good Roger Federer is: In Karlovic's second service game, Federer broke him. And he made it look so easy.

This last bit of information comes courtesy of Nova Science Now: So there's this device called the reCaptcha. You've most likely used it before. It's the device that asks you to type the two words you see on the screen. It's the test to make sure you're a human and not a computer. The way it works is, the computer only knows the answer to one of the two words. So if you get that one word right, it's safe to assume you can decode the second word. Now here's the crazy cool part: That second word, the one the computer doesn't know, isn't just some random, made-up word. It comes from an old document (a newspaper, a book, whatever) that's been scanned to be digitally preserved. But the computer needs your help, since, in older publications in particular, most of the text is off-kilter or blurry. So every time you use the reCaptcha device, you're helping preserve old documents. How cool is that?

So, the home movies. As Adam said, we made them during a time when we were creative. And I'm still impressed with how creative we were, just taking a camera around and making shit up. Also, considering we never really had a script or a budget, and that we shot each segment in one take, it's decent stuff. Not great, but decent.

We filmed the first one here in Virginia. It involves us taking the camera around to local hot-spots: PetCo, Toys R Us, Dunkin Donuts. And, of course, my basement. Highlights include: a Frederick Douglass hand-puppet lip-syncing "Wonderwall"; a Who Wants to Be a Millionaire parody where I play a jerk of a host; a "making of" segment where we got my sister to do some narration that she botched several times (but thanks for your help, Laura!); and, of course, the Home Shopping Network skit (we were selling a Nerf dart). Bloopers were fun, though the Home Shopping Network outtakes sometimes ran too long to get to the funny part where we crack up.

The second video represents a monumental leap in quality... of the transitional effects. Content stays relatively the same. But the second, third, and fourth volumes were all from Georgia. And Adam's dad had some cutting-edge (at the time) editing software on his computer, so we have all sorts of cool title cards and such. Anyway, highlights: Adam, as Steve Irwin, in search of the Moroccan Giant Duck (or the Giant Moroccan Duck -- we sometimes inverted our words [again, no script!]); touring Stone Mountain Park in search of the haunted, uh, music thing; a Blair Witch parody; segments from the first three episodes of our "B&A Records" TV show; and, of course, the Home Shopping Network skit (we were selling a tennis ball).

Volume 3: World's Slowest Police Chases (where we followed cars around Stone Mountain Park and made shit up); a parody of Big Brother, featuring Aaron (this one is quite funny, actually); a parody of Fear Factor, also featuring Aaron; and, of course, the Home Shopping Network skit (we were selling a coaster).

Apparently we made volume 4 in a day and a half. I don't remember this, but it definitely has a rushed feel to it. It's also our weakest one, which may explain why it was the last. From what I recall: two "guided tours of Georgia" (kind of like the Slowest Police Chases from last time, but not nearly as funny); the Dos and Don'ts of Weightlifting; the Dos and Don'ts of Tennis; another "making of" segment, sans my sister; a Weakest Link parody (where I play three characters!); and, of course, the Home Shopping Network skit (we were selling a, uh... I'm not sure what it was, exactly. Small candle holder?).

One last note about the movies: I really am audacious enough to compare our crappy home movies to Arrested Development. Let me explain. We had recurring gags/foreshadowing not only in a single volume, but also across the multiple volumes. Jokes such as: Adam always picking up Line 5; me always using a product twice; a "I feel it in my bones" line that I use one year and Adam uses another year; maybe one or two others. So, watching the four volumes relatively back-to-back, it was cool to see the continuity.

Yikes, this has been a mammoth post. Sorry about that. Bottom line: Adam, find/borrow/steal a VCR and watch the movies. They're worth it for the nostalgic factor and the occasional laugh.

Wow. I got on here for the first time in a week or two, and I didn't have to log in. It remembered me. Should I be happy or terrified that technology is now reading what I type and evolving to meet my demands?

I fucking LOVED Michael Jackson when I was a kid. LOVED him. I didn't even think there was any other music for years. It's kind of surreal to me that he's dead. I almost thought that maybe he had experienced the perfect blend of plastic surgery and medications that he had accidentally stumbled onto immortality. Apparently not. I heard that on the day after MJ died, his albums were SEVENTY PERCENT(!!!) of ALL the orders on Amazon.com. All of the top 15 albums on the site were his. 15 of the top 15. That's amazing. He was probably one of the strangest men in the world, but man, that voice and those moves, and those songs, and that skin and that glove... The man could have been the single most famous musician of all time. It's strange to be around to see a genuine piece of world history disappear.

How about that Farrah Fawcett, huh? She died too. Sad. I think I'm too young to really appreciate that one but I heard a lot of old men the next day saying some pretty pervy things about her. Kind of weird, considering she had just died. But you know, old men will be boys.

How about that Ed McMahon, huh? Heeeeeeere's Johnny! Hey-o! I just won a hundred million dollars again this year, and all I have to do is order some magazines! I did watch Star Search when I was a kid. Well, let's all have a drink for the three famous people who died here last week, and then move on because...

...there are some crazy shits going on in Iran right now. I guess maybe less crazy right now than a week or two ago, but man, could you feel the electricity in the air from the people rising up against an unjust dictatorship and threatening to take down the establishment? I could. I was riveted, I was so excited to see that people somewhere have the audacity to stand up to evil and say "We've had ENOUGH!" And then evil said "We have the MILITARY!" and the revolution kind of fizzled out. Once the government came out and actually said "If you protest peacefully, we will kill you, your family, and everything you love," the people said "Hey man, it's all good. We were just kidding." Sure, there were a few die-hards (literally, it turned out) that had had ENOUGH (of living, it turned out) of these despots, but your average peaceful protester seems like they decided that a little more freedom isn't worth being dead for. Makes sense, since if you're dead you can't really enjoy your freedom. But man, wouldn't it have been something to see a real revolution, led by the people in the streets, and not a coup by some other military megalomaniac. Maybe next time.

And how about that North Korea, huh? Kim Jong Il's (sp?) son is named Kim Jong Un? (sp?) Who the fuck does this guy think he is? Now he's going to "shoot a missle" at Hawaii, huh? I mean, that's cute that there's a country that allows a mentally ill midget crossdresser to be their leader, and it's cute that he thinks that we're going to be terrified of him shooting a missile at Hawaii on the 4th of July, but really, a stupid retarded little person in a pompadour throwing rocks at the Pacific Ocean is probably only scary to the water within six inches of the beach. And even then, his stupid tiny atrophied muscles and his complete lack of exercise while he sits in his (probably) WAAAAY oversized throne being fed grapes by topless women, will probably lead to him pulling something when he tries to push the button to "shoot the missile." He can't even hit Japan! Don't you think you ought to launch a shuttle into space before you declare you're going to fly to, and establish a colony on, Pluto? (He didn't do that, I'm just saying, if you can't hit Japan with a missile and it's out your back door, you probably can't hit some islands far far away.)

Anything else? I guess not. I'd just like to say, I also have Brian and my home videos from back when we were creative, yet I have no VCR to watch them. Their hilarous/idiotic antics elude me, and due to the bonk on my head/drugs/genetics/brain transplant, I can hardly remember what is on them. I look forward to reading Brian's comments on our masterpieces/embarassments to our families.

So, to Brian's accurate portrayal of our readership, "What up."

Oh. Dear. God.

I was cleaning out my closet (no connection to the Eminem song) when I found the old "Brian and Adam's Crappy Home Videos." All four (!) volumes. I'm watching the first one now. More on this later.

Grab your Ritalin, because this post is going to be all over the-

So, Iran. What a crazy situation. I've gotta say, when Bush got re-elected in 2004, I kind of wish something similar had happened here. There's just something about huge masses of upset people who are so pissed-off they're willing to risk their health/lives/well-being to stand up for what they believe in. It gets me every time.

I've been listening to Dire Straits recently. The "Making Movies" album, mostly, but also "Brothers in Arms." How the hell have I overlooked this iconic band for so long?

Here's how I came about digging Dire Straits: Last week, one week ago today, I picked up the key to my apartment in Queens, NY. Driving back from Queens, I was flipping through the radio stations, getting a feel for what kind of stuff they play in New York City. I stumbled upon a classic rock station that, no shit, played a solid hour of the greatest classic rock songs I've ever heard amassed on Clear Channel-sponsored radio. My only complaint? The commercials. I'm spoiled by listening to CDs or public radio, where you don't get the onslaught of ads. So, out of that hour, a good fifteen minutes was probably commercials. Still, the part that wasn't trying to sell me stuff was unadulterated rock. One of the songs happened to be "Sultans of Swing." I said to myself, "You know, I like this song. But I've never really listened to Dire Straits." I thought that, just like that, with the quotation marks and everything. Anyway, upon coming back home, I did some research using the fantastic allmusic.com. "Brothers in Arms" is their recommended pick, but "Making Movies" got the highest score. My question to you (Adam, Cam, Leslie, my sister -- I think that sums up our readership) is: which album should I try next?

Speaking of New York, I've purchased my ticket for The Weakerthans at the Bowery Ballroom. Perhaps the first concert I'll see up in city as a resident. So cool.

Finally, I won't be reading a non-fiction science book for May/June. I ran out of time. It took me most of the two months to finish Roberto Bolano's mammoth "The Savage Detectives." Unfortunately, it was a decidedly average book. Held my interest enough to get through, but never really grabbed me. Near the end, I found myself reading it more just to finish it, rather than to discover the conclusion. Not a good sign. Also: I figure that, what with school starting up in August, I will no longer have much time/desire to do fun reading, so I was bound to flake out, eventually. Why not now?

Every time I log into this thing, I click the "Remember Me" box. This apparently tells the thing to remember me for approximately three seconds, because if I wait a couple of days to come back to this, I have to log back in again. It's not really the most annoying thing in the world, but it does make me wonder what happens if you don't click the "Remember Me" box. Will it forget you all together and your account disappears? I feel like I'm at the end of Eternal Sunshine, shouting at blogger "Remember me! Remember me!" But then when it wakes up, it has no idea who I am. And I am so sad.

In Denver on Friday night with my brother waiting to see the Dillinger Four, a guy came up to us and said "Hey guys, my name's Leroy and I'm a street performer. I sing songs, old Motown. You want to hear one?" And I said "Heeeeellllll yeaaaaahhhh boooooooyyyyyyy!." Then Leroy busted out a nice version of one of the greatest songs of all time, Sitting on the Dock of the Bay. He had a backup dancer, he was engaging the crowd (me, Aaron, and this other guy who was standing next to us), and he had a good voice. That earned a few bucks from me, and some money from the guy next to us. Which leads me to my point here: There are a TON of homeless people out there right now, and a lot of us can't decide which to give money to/spit on (depending on your political affiliations). If homeless people would just do SOMETHING, I bet they would make way more money. Look, I don't want to sound cruel, but sitting there with a beard and a sign that says "Homeless Veteran Please Help" just doesn't do anything for anyone anymore. It's not that we're not sad that you're homeless, especially since you served your country in the military, it's just that we're not made of money either. It's like CDs. I'd love to buy every CD I want, but I don't have enough money. I'd love to give money to every homeless person, but then they'd have a couple bucks each and I'd be homeless too. So to all our homeless readers out there, find something you can do and do it. Draw a picture, sing a song, dance a little jig. I guarantee this will increase your revenue/decrease your spit-on quotient by a marked amount.

Leslie wanted me to mention that I was visiting her in Seattle in my last post and I didn't so I told her I'd mention her in this one, and I did. Seattle is a cool place if you ever get to go there. The Pike Market has a ton of amazing looking locally grown food. There's a microbrewery right there that's got some good beer and a great reuben. There are a TON of gay people of every gender, and a TON of homeless people who seem to be getting kind of aggressive about taking your money. And yes, there are a TON of coffee shops. And lots of Asians. However, I'm not sure I ever saw an Asian homosexual homeless person drinking coffee. So just like in high school, the cliques don't mix. Won't we ever learn?

I had a good post saved up in my brain for a while and I never wrote it. So this is what you got instead. Shazam!

Thankfully, I don't have insomnia. I realize that's a bizarre way to start a post. But I'm thankful that I don't have insomnia because I recently saw a commercial for Ambien CR. (I would just like to add that, if you go to the Ambien CR website, the front-page graphic is of five ethnically-diverse people standing on a pill. The caption cracks me up: "Not actual pill size." As if someone out there is thinking, "Man, I could use some Ambien CR, but, goddamn, that is one giant pill!") Anyway, this commercial scared me. No, it terrified me. The side effects -- of which there are many -- seem extremely uncomfortable and/or fatal. In fact, I'd guess that about half of the 30-second spot discussed the detriments of the drug. Even if I had severe insomnia, I don't think I'd risk taking Abien CR. Certainly not after that ad.

Amazing transition in five, four, three, two...

Speaking of commercials and their ineffectiveness, have you seen the Loud 'N Clear infomercial? This is truly a sight to behold. Let's open on a poor old woman who simply wants to play Bingo. Had she only proper hearing, she'd be on a roll (? [I'm not familiar with Bingo lingo.]). This same lady is also taking her Loud 'N Clear to church, where all the devout patrons secretly scorn her and pray that she ends up writhing in hell next to Satan for the rest of eternity, all because it looks like she's bringing one of those damn Bluetooth things into their sacred and God-loving church of all things holy, amen. But hey! At least she can HEAR them condemning her to hell!

My next favorite character in this commercial is the man with charcoal hair. We first meet him as he's watching his son's little league game while wearing the Loud 'N Clear. A nice gesture, but altogether unnecessary. I mean, what's the point of having to hear the umpire when he consistently uses visible hand motions to indicate if a player is safe or out? But I digress.

The next day, Mr. Charcoal Hair is out in the wild, hunting! What a true manly man, this man is! Although, judging by his inept stealth tactics, I'm guessing he doesn't get out much.

The point? Get the Loud 'N Clear and you will: get consistent Bingos! Hunt better! Eavesdrop on people invariably discussing how attractive and/or well-off you are! Get good, church-going people to secretly turn against you!

Finally, let's talk about cupcakes. I like cupcakes. I even enjoy making cupcakes. Cupcakes are always fun. However... Are you a man who makes cupcakes? Do you sometimes feel... inadequate... about the size of your cupcakes? Trying to find the cupcake variation of a Hummer? (Yes, that pun was entirely intentional.) Then you need Big Top Cupcakes. But wait. Let's stop and think about this a moment. What kind of message are you sending to your children? (Let's assume, for the sake of argument, that the children in this ad are, in fact, your children.) Look at how a normal, ordinary cupcake elicits from them heretofore uncharted levels of ennui. The only thing that will draw them back from the brink of an endlessly demoralizing cycle of introspection is to... provide them with a cupcake twenty-five times bigger?

I'm just thankful that I don't live in those infomercial worlds. Those despondent, cruel, black-and-white worlds where everything sucks and everyone acts so fucking hopeless all the time.

Oh, and I'm also thankful I don't have insomnia.

Jesus, you know, I was all like "Yeah, I'm totally going to like update this thing like all the time." And now I'm all like "Nah." So sorry. I'm a dirty rotten fucking liar, and you should hate me. But you don't. You love me. And that's cool too.

I'm sitting in a coffee shop in Seattle that has free wi-fi and I feel like this is what people do in this situation. There's another guy in here on his laptop too but it's facing away from me so I can't see what he's doing. I assume he's Twittering or some shit, so at least I'm way cooler than him. Have I mentioned how much I hate Twitter? I hate Twitter a lot. I hate the word Twitter. I hate that when you do it it's called a "tweet." I hate people who think they need to tell other people what they're doing all the time, and I hate The Man limiting you to 140 characters or whatever (I don't know anything about Twitter). Censorship! This is also the reason I rarely get on Facebook and never update my status. Nobody cares what I'm doing. I hardly care what I'm doing most of the time.

After months of not doing anything exciting with my life, I "went to" three concerts last week. First, with Cam, I went to see Nine Inch Nails at Fiddler's Green. Not bad, and fairly priced ($30ish). What's weird about this concert is that Jane's Addiction (seriously?) played AFTER NIN. Which was actually cool, since Jane's Addiction sucks, the concert was in the middle of the week so I had to get to bed at a somewhat reasonable time, and because of this, we got to leave around 9. NIN played forever and they're pretty decent live. Pretty good setlist too. "Hurt" live outside while the sun was going down was one of the more awesome live music experiences I've had.

Then on Friday we went to Denver to see Lucero and Chuck Ragan. We didn't see them because I'm a moron and didn't buy tickets ahead of time. See, I've seen Lucero live like seven times at this point and they have NEVER sold anything out. But I didn't take into account the fact that it was a Friday night in Denver at a small venue. They were sold out. But, I got some of Cam and Leslie's Famous Home Cooked Bacon Mac and Cheese and some of the most gigantic biscuits that have ever been made. But man, if you ever get the chance to see Lucero live, you should definitely do it. They end every show the same way, by getting EXTREMELY drunk and taking requests, which they only half remember how to play, but it's a really fun time. So yeah, I was pretty bummed about that, but you know, life goes on, and they'll be back.

Saturday was Neko Case, and it was my first time seeing her live, and it was pretty damn cool. Sarai and I went to Efrain's in Lafayette beforehand and I had some pretty delicious fajitas. That was a good start to the night, and then Neko Case put on a really good, and great sounding show, playing pretty much all of her new album (which is awesome, by the way), some choice cuts off of her last album (which is awesome, by the way), and couple from the one before that. Only problem with this show is that we got there like five minutes before the show started and all the good viewing spots were taken. So for the first set, Calexico, we stood getting molested by fat guys in cowboy hats and being behind so many people we couldn't see anything. We spent Neko's set literally all the way in the back of the theater, where at least we could see, but the music was kind of quiet and people were just talking loudly. I don't understand why people pay money to go to a concert and then stand there and talk to their friends over the music the whole time. You can do that for free outside, where other people who paid for the concert aren't trying to listen to the damn show.

Anyway now I'm in Seattle for the first time and it's 85 degrees and sunny as hell. So so far I don't get what all the hoopla about rain all the time is. It's so nice to finally get a vacation from work. I'm going to see a Mariner's game while I'm here, and do other things that you do in Seattle. I don't know what that consists of. So yeah. Sorry this post was so bloggy and not angry ramblings of an insane man about the issues of the day. But you know, that's how it goes, and that's how it shall go today.

Talk to you whenever! Call me!

Well, howdy. It's been a while. Sorry about the lack of updates recently. Not too much new to report, sadly.

I dusted off my old Nintendo Entertainment System earlier this evening. It has been many, many, many years since I've played that thing. I was all eager to boot it up and play, but it took me close to thirty minutes to get the system to work. I wish I were joking. I tried all the tricks from the old days: blowing on the cart, blowing inside the machine, and using a cassette tape case to hold down the cart. That last option finally worked. But man, what a mess.

So I decided to play this game that I'm about 100% sure no one has ever played before, mainly because it's probably illegal. I wish I could ask my dad about the details, but the story goes something along the lines of this: My dad found an ad in the classifieds. It was for "1500 games in 1." Now, circa 1991, 1992, this seemed unfathomable. In fact, it's still a rather ludicrous claim today. So me and my dad went to investigate. It wasn't available in stores -- no, that'd be too legal -- so, instead, we went to the seller's house. Yeah, sketchy, right? But, again, this is 1991/1992, and, as we all know, crime didn't exist in the past. Rape and murder and stealing are only contemporary scourges. So, yeah, it was completely, 100% safe. (Shut up, all you people saying, "But in 1991/1992, that was your present, not the past.") Anyway, we went to the guy's house and he booted up the game for us. Sure enough, there's a menu that says "1500 games in 1." Each screen holds about 50 games. And he showed us a few of them. Paperboy. Tetris. Galaga. Pinball. I was in awe. This game was the motherfucking shit! Of course, a six or seven-year-old Brian wouldn't say that, but I thought whatever the six or seven-year-old equivalent is. And so my dad bought me what is surely a super illegal pirated game of some sort.

I found out later that the "1500 games" part is rather misleading. True, the menu goes from 01 to 1500, however those are not 1500 unique games. There are essentially 50 core games that get recycled. But the variations (sometimes as many as, like, 100 or 200) involve changing the character(s) in the game. So, for instance, Donkey Kong. You get the original. But then you get a version that changes Donkey Kong into a witch and Mario into a turtle. Or Donkey Kong into a devilish thing and Mario into a sexy woman. (As sexy as an 8-bit woman can look, I guess.) Or you get a basic racing game with normal cars. But then you can also race as bubbles. Or saws. Or snowflakes. You get the picture.

Lesson? Pirated shit is a bit of a sham. Still, where else can you witness an epic battle between a barrel-throwing devil and a sexy 8-bit woman?

In my ongoing effort to create bizarre contrasts while cooking: There's a thunderstorm outside and I'm baking cupcakes. Yeah, what?

The tennis season is over. We had an abysmal 2-12 record. Our two wins were against the same school. That school has now lost every single match for three seasons in a row. Ouch.

I finished my science book for March/April, Cosmos. Great, great book. There were numerous instances when I had to stop reading, look up, and just think, "Damn." It blows my mind, thinking about topics as expansive as the universe. And to think that there are people who devote their entire lives to discovering and dissecting such vastness. Also, the full extent of time is boggling. I mean, 14 billion years since the Big Bang? 14 billion years? And each of us is alive for, on average, 60-70 years. 65 years in comparison to 14 billion years. I just can't even conceive of time like that.

Bottom line, check it out. Great book. Now I have to get back to my cupcakes.

My friend Shanif started a new website: www.myownsixwords.com It's pretty cool. I've only made one post, as of now, and it's an English major joke. Look for name: BMK.

My blog posts have been very short recently. Free time became quite a commodity this past week. I preferred to do other things. But I'll be back soon.

I made this mix CD on Easter to celebrate Jesus Our Lord in all His GloRy. PlEase Do enJoy and if yoU want SomeThiNg to Listen to please do Make your own COPy.

1. Neko Case - This Tornado Loves You
2. The Anniversary - The D in Detroit
3. Blueline Medic - Swan Song
4. Boy Sets Fire - My Life in the Knife Trade
5. Tom Gabel - Amputations
6. The Mountain Goats - Sometimes I Still Feel the Bruise
7. Austin Lucas/Chuck Ragan - Sun or Snow
8. Ben Nichols - Toadvine
9. Manchester Orchestra - I Can Feel a Hot One
10. Margot & the Nuclear So and So's - Broadripple is Burning (acoustic)
11. Against Me! - Borne on the FM Waves of the Heart
12. Okkervil River - The President's Dead
13. Joey Cape - Errands
14. Austin Lucas - Go West
15. The Avett Brothers - Swept Away (Sentimental Version)
16. Bon Iver - Skinny Love
17. Iron & Wine - Trapeze Swinger
18. Hot Water Music - Radio

One of God's greatest gifts to man is the USB turntable. Putting records on your computer so you can listen to records on your IPod really makes me feel a lot less like a luddite for liking records and a lot more like hip, cool loser.

Just a few notes to catch up on today, since I've been MIA for the past few weeks. I'm pretty sure I'm getting sick right now, which sucks. But you guys, are you scared shitless of this swine flu? I'm so scared. There have been over 245 people in the country get sick with this thing. TWO HUNDRED AND FORTY FIVE! That's practically .0000008% of the population of the country! Head for those nuclear war bunkers we built when we were sure the world was going to be ended by nuclear war with the Russians. Or when we were sure the world was going to be ended by accidental war in the horrifyingly accurate Y2K ordeal. Or when we were sure it was going to be SARS or bird flu or whatever the fuck Christians think is supposed to happen, or whatever the fuck Muslims think is supposed to happen, or whatever the fuck anyone else thinks is supposed to happen. I've got a good feeling about this one though. After all, it's comforting to know that the WHO (not the band) is just as susceptible to crazy fear mongering as the crazy homeless man on the street corner. PANDEMIC!

Anyway, if you're not dead from the swine flue and you're still reading this, I want to wish a happy belated 4/20 to all you filthy pot smoking hippies out there, and I want you to know we're all with you on this legalizing pot thing. We saw how well prohibition worked out back when we tried it on alcohol. I'd say it's working just about as well for weed now. Lots of innocent people in jail, a missed revenue stream by the government, the act of procuring weed much more dangerous than it would be were it legal, the act of smoking whatever crazy shit you got from your dealer a lot more dangerous than it would be were it legal. Yes folks, we're totally winning the war on drugs. Just look at how no one is in jail for doing drugs, no one dies in vicious violence spilling over our borders from Mexico, no one is in rehab, and no one even does them! Isn't it amazing what making something illegal will do? Just like how were we to make abortion illegal, that spike in deaths from botched back alley coathanger abortions would be totally coincidental, because obviously no one would be getting abortions since they'd be illegal! Just like how no one speeds! I love laws, man.

The movie Adventureland surprised me by being the best movie I've seen all year. It was very funny, but above that, a much better movie than I expected, and a much better movie than most comedies. Too bad I have the feeling it slid under a lot of people's radars.

It's also been 10 years since the Columbine killings. Not the first school shooting, not the last. But I remember exactly where I was when I heard about it, and it was one of those moments when your worldview is shattered as a kid. No one is safe anywhere, there is pure evil in the world, and goth kids are whiny little bitches. I still can't look at anyone wearing a trench coat without wondering what the fuck they're thinking.

Cool,t alkt oyo ulate r.

Is it inherently sad or inherently awesome that I'm drinking a glass of wine while making macaroni and cheese for dinner? Either way, it's inherently something.

Seriously, CNN, what the fuck?


So I check CNN.com yesterday afternoon, and this is what I see as the main story. First of all, Bush? Really? Who the hell wrote/edited that headline? And second, the picture has Calderon on the left and Obama on the right, so it'd only make sense for it to read "Calderon and Obama huddle over flu," no? Or, if we're going to go with the U.S.-centric headline of "Obama and Calderon," could we at least change the order of the pictures? Finally, (and this has nothing to do with CNN, but I'm going to rope them into this tirade anyway) Firefox should update its spell-check software. Obama is still considered a typo. I keep getting the red dotted line underneath it, saying, "No, you mean Bush, right?" Maybe the CNN writer/editor is also the one to blame for this spell-check foul-up.

(If you look closely at the picture, you'll notice that the other tab open in my browser is one explaining how to take a screen capture. That's professionalism!)