Thursday, January 22, 2009

Stop, drop, and be nice!!!!

favorite TOOL album Pictures, Images and Photos
Ned Flanders called, he wants his blog back.
Time to get nice.
This is about a book called "The light of other days" by Arthur C. Clark and Stephen Baxter.
I have read many books (as people tend to do) and this just might be the best one I've come across. Ok, I can't choose the best. I'll narrow it down to five later.

In any case, this particular one deals with being of a single mind, literally. Call me a hippie or even a communist, but that sounds like a good idea.
In the story, "wormholes" are discovered.

It starts simple, like the telephone, one voice being heard through a medium that at the time seemed impossible, and grew into a technology that revolutionized the way people live. Sound familiar? Basically, a way to develope "rips" in space and time was developed, and it progressed, over years, into the death of privacy. Any person could view any location, any person, at any date, undetected. Historical mysteries were solved. Unsolved crimes were solved. No one in all of history was safe from the unblinking eyes of everyone else.

Naturally people adapted to this and started behaving as if there was no one watching. Crimes of all kind stopped. People had sex on park benches in the middle of the day with people everywhere. I'd say "sound familiar" again, but then I'd have to punch myself in the face.

In the beginning, this happen via computers. In the later stages of it, people were having it implanted in their eyes, so that whatever one sees, everyone sees. Everyone sees everything, everyone knows what everyone else knows, people are able to act immediately if a threat is detected by even one, like a flock of birds. (There is a part in the book where they do just that)

I guess I am saying that I hope evolution takes this kind of turn. I've heard that humans are exponentially evolving, and that we'll begin to see drastic changes in our lifetime, and I hope this is the case. It's already a very different world than it was ten years ago.

5 favorite books, in no order:
dune by frank herbert
the stand by stephen king
invisible monsters by chuck palahniuk
the gods themselves by isaac asimov
the light of other days by arthur c. clark and stephen baxter
I'll end this silly piece of echh with one word:

Thursday, January 15, 2009

One of the funniest things I have ever seen.

Ok, so the Beeze and I...checkity check him out at if you haven't already.
We both work at "The Fish House", and one day, got to talking, as we often do, about what would be really funny/disturbing/wrong/cheesey/awesome. So, we came to the conclusion that Beezey-pie coming out of the breakroom in full uniform, minus pants would be hysterical. (and believe me, it was.)
So, one cold saturday morning, I finally convince him to do it (this took a whole lot of arm-twisting) and he comes out, just like I described before, full of piss and vinegar, spitting corny "motivation" on the prep cooks, while throwing an apron on. The prep cooks that day consisted of an old guy who got a purple heart in vietnam, and a retard with multiple college degrees. Old guy just laughs (he's used to this shit, as most of us are) and the tard/genius gets beet red and says "I think you forgot something"...
I was behind Beeze wheezing from laughter the whole time.
There are times I wish I didn't work there, but then, look at what (and who) I'd have been missing out on if I didn't.

Tuesday, January 13, 2009

Coldplagiarism (GET IT?)

Time to put Coldplay on the couch. I'm sure the allegations of them lifting riffs from other people could be considered a tired topic by now, but f*ck it. I'm still pissed. Especially since I used to like them. (Parachutes was a great album, they got progressively lazier after that.)

Here we go, ya'll.
Let's break it down album by album.

Parachutes- July 10, 2000
Their first. It's echo-ey guitar driven music, nothing really special. It's very well written, solid. Very friendly music, accessable to almost anyone.
However... I read in an interview that Chris Martin (the chotchbag singer) said that when they were first getting started they were trying to sound like Radiohead. Red flag alert, anyone?

A Rush of Blood to the Head- August 22, 2002
The follow up to a hit. This one featured more piano, more echoes, explored new themes... mainly of the messiah complex variety. The lyrics became more protective of an unknown victim... the music got more layered. But still nothing that hadn't been done before.

X&Y- June 6, 2005
Yikes. Talk about dissapointment. It appears Coldplay had stopped trying, and just wrote a bunch of crap that they knew people would like, regardless if was hollow and filled with nothing. Clearly no effort here. They got lazy. So lazy, in fact, that they started to "borrow". More on this furthur down.

Viva la Vida- May 25, 2008
Ok. While they tried to take a turn with this one and go ambitious, here's where the shameless copycatting comes in. (Chris Martin, has again, referenced "Kid A", Radiohead's EXTREMELY ambitious follow up to their super-hit "Ok Computer") The songs don't follow the typical lazy Coldplay outline. This would normally be a good thing, and a sign of growth and creativity in a band, but let's stop right there.

To quote Chris Martin in a Rolling Stone interview:
"We're definitely good, but I don't think you can say we're that original. I regard us as being incredibly good plagiarists."

Ok, pally... the song "Viva la Vida" sounds remarkably like Joe Satriani's "If I could fly" AND The Creaky Boards' "The songs I didn't write" (ironic, I know.) Check these songs out, f*cking anywhere. Try youtube.

The Coldplay song "Talk" is a direct ripoff of the Kraftwerk song "Computer Love". I later found out that Coldplay legally obtained the riff of that song, but come on. Coldplay is internationally famous, not a cover band. Write your own shit, douchebag. Lots of people do it, so can you.
Once again, check it out. It's on youtube.

So....... this blatant aping of other people's music (not just in the music itself, but admitted to in countless interviews) leads me to believe that Chris Martin is under the impression that he doesn't have to try anymore. He believes he's the next Bono. The faggot/liar version.

He's not. He's a limey shithead who has done nothing but write middle-of-the-road, non offensive limp-dick milquetoast music spanning his entire career. And he can't even do that anymore, so has turned to ripping people off. Now your daughter (Apple, way to go, asshole) is going to be ripped on mercilessly for having you as her father. That is, if you and your cockchugging f*cking weakling coat-tail riding leeches that you call a BAND are still relevent when she's old enough to interact with other kids can still ruin her childhood for being the daughter of a soulless cumdumpster. (I'm not talking about Gwyneth Paltrow, she's alright; could do better.)
I hope Christ Martin and Chris Cornell (that clown is on the couch next) somehow end up with eachothers' car engines in their respective chests. (hypocritically, I lifted this fantasy from Beeze)

Chris Martin should have been a stain on his parents' bedsheets. Wiped off, forgotten about, eventually washed. Only because his skunky parents would have gotten tired of being reminded of the one night they got drunk and daddy pulled out instead of wrapping up. I hope they f*ckin' are now.

F*CK COLDPLAY. I'm done.

Monday, January 12, 2009

The interview game

1. If you walked out of your house one day and noticed a bird with a broken wing huddled in some nearby bushes, what would you do?
I would let nature run it's course. I'd feel bad, but the bird would be there, hurt, regardless of whether I was or not. I'm not going to go digging through the woods looking for wounded animals. It happens. I'd hope the bird had a chance to heal though.

2. If there was a public execution on television, would you watch it?
Absolutely I would. Unlike the wounded bird, the person being executed clearly would deserve it. I'm assuming public execution has been legally and morally reinstated here...
who wouldn't want to watch a serial rapist/killer get greased?

3. Would you like to know the precise date of your death?
Not unless it's soon. As in under a year. Because then it would be freeing. If I knew that I was going to die on a specific date 50 years from now, it would just be menacing.

4. Is there something you've dreamed of doing for a long time, but haven't done it? If so, what is it? And why haven't you done it?

Base jumping. I haven't done it because I'm conflicted between an intense thrill/dying.

5. When did you last yell at someone?
I think I yelled at myself, to myself.

Thursday, January 8, 2009

Blow with a ho. (fo sho.)

I'm sure all of you have had a similiar experience, give or take a few "juicy details", and this is one of them. After my Radiohead post got a whole lot of nothin', I talked to Beezebag and we came to the conclusion that "angry, embarrasing, and sexual" gets the attention. Not that I'm in it for attention. No. I'm. Not-tah.
So, this is the story of a one night stand. A really good one, I might add.

I was working at this restaurant a few years ago. 2005. This was prior to my current tour of duty at the Fish House. Like restaurants tend to be, the staff was very close, and often went out together after work. This place was no exception.
I had been hanging out/messing around with one of the bartenders. (fun fact: we saw 40 Year Old Virgin together, one of my favorite movies). Let's call her "Bartender".
Also, as restaurants tend to do, we had a slew of eccentric regulars. One of them was an older gentleman maybe in his late 40's; let's call him "Al". (as in al-coholic, GET IT??)
I was cool with him, he was always buying me drinks towards the end of the shift, and he was having a party at his house, and him and Bartender invited me. So I go to his house and there's Bartender, Al, and some people I don't know. He introduces me, then calls me into the bathroom. He offers me some coke, to which I more than happily take part in. I hadn't done it yet at the time, but who am I to turn down a good time? And it is... a good time. So there's booze, pot, more coke, people keep arriving. I'm pretty sure I was the youngest person at this party too. Bartender was even a few years older than me. Awesome party though. I had a great time.

Ok, so now the good part. Bartender's friend showed up, so let's call her "Tramp Stamp", because, well... as I later found out, she had one, much to my not-so-suprise. Bartender and Al had some thing going on together, so I started talking to Tramp Stamp. She was a long haired blonde, hot, well-proportioned, with a high-class dumper. Also, she was pretty cool to hang out with. And do some more coke with. Also not suprising, we hit it off very well.

So... the party's winding at whatever o'clock, and she mentions she's in no shape to drive. I mean, I'm sure I wasn't either, but come on. There are certain times when you just have to knuckle up. So I asked if she would like to come stay at my place. She immediately said yes. (giggity)

We get home unscathed, and it's maybe 5 minutes inside my apartment that we're going at it like f*cking champs. I mean, like we just discovered we could do this sh!t. I'm not gonna go into details, but it was good, and it was NASTY. And this carried on until around 8:30 in the morning, when she finally said she was tired.
I dropped her off the next day at Al's house where her car was, she gave me a peck on the cheek, and that was that. Transaction complete.

It was honestly some of the best sex I've ever had, probably because it never had the chance to go beyond "getting some strange", you know? Nothing even slightly negative to associate with her, just that one really good time. F yeah.

Dating and relationships and love and all that sh!t definately have their strong points, I know, but this kind of thing deserves a mention as well.
What a great night. This one goes out to Tramp Stamps everywhere.

Wednesday, January 7, 2009

in praise of Radiohead.

Anyone who knows me knows that I am almost unhealthily obsessed with the music of those limey pricks, Radiohead. When I was just a young jurk, age 13, the song "Creep" came out. It instantly polarized with me, not because of the lyrics so much, but the music. I dug the chord progression, the voice, and the impossible to ignore "chuh-chunk" of Johnny Greenwood's guitar. I taped it off the radio (god, remember those days?) and eventually squirrelled up enough money to buy the cassette. (remember those days too?) From that point on, I WAS DONE. I knew I had found my musical taste wheelhouse. I'm all over the place musically, but I've had the same favorite band for the past 16 years. No one else has come close.
Here is an attempt similiar to my "breakdown" of Linkin Park, the positive version.

A- Let's start with Thom Yorke's voice. The phrase "often immitated, never duplicated" comes to mind. It started great, and only got better; this is a common theme in Radiohead's vast catalogue. More on that later. It is not only pleasing to listen to, but in my opinion, an iconic sound. No one sounds like Thommy boy. Thommy like singy!

B- Moving on to their song-writing process. I have read that Thom will bang out a rough draft of just about every song, play it for the other 4, (Johnny Greenwod, Colin Greenwood, Phil Selway, Ed O-Brien) and they will have at it. Each one adding their own genius until a Radiohead song is created. If you look in the liner notes on any of their albums, each song's writing credit is "Radiohead". No names.
I can respect this. F*ck Paul McCartney. F*ck John Lennon. WE wrote this.

C- The fact that they've dared to do things that could cause critical backlash. In particular, the albums Kid A and Amnesiac. Have you heard this? They're not noise-rock, they're not unlistenable, (they're actually very melodic) but those two albums were such a departure from the extremely lauded OK Computer that I've read people call it "a betrayal of fans". Not true. Kid A went platinum with no single, no videos, no radio play, very little hype other than fan anticipation and word of mouth. Also, their latest release "In Rainbows" was released online for the price of "you choose". And it was announced on their website 10 days prior to this. That's it. Yet they made more money off this one than 2003's Hail to the Chief, their last obligation to EMI.

D- The songs are just so DAMN GOOD! Seriously, they have gotten better and better over the years. Here are a few key tracks I highly recommend, in no order:
-Paranoid Android
-Like Spinning Plates
-The National Anthem
-Morning Bell
-A Wolf at the Door
-There There
-15 Step
-The Amazing Sounds of Orgy
-Paperbag Writer
-How to Disappear Completely

...well, there it is. Get to listenin'.

E- Live. Seeing Radiohead live. This is something that CANNOT be passed up, should you have the chance. Not only do they sound incredible, but they use some unique visuals to enhance the experience. I saw them this past august, and they had what I can only describe as what appeared to be pipe organ pipes, all over the stage. Yet when they started playing, these "pipes" came alive with light somehow, and at one point, there appeared to be a condensed galaxy on stage. That's the only way I can describe it. Besides amazing.

Well, that's it, I love me some Radiohead, always will.
Keeping with the music theme, next on the couch: Coldplay.

Tuesday, January 6, 2009

The most embarrassing moment of my life.

Ok, so before I launch into this cringe-fest, it needs a little set-up. Here goes: My sister and I, when we were kids, always had this obsession with cheesey pro-wrestler moves, mostly what I believe is called the "elbow drop". We would do it all the time; off a chair, off a bed, stairs, whatever. It was something that never stopped being funny. It always involved the dropper to tap their elbow several times before delivering said drop, like a taunt. You know what I'm talking about. So... fast foward a few years........ My sister had been studying abroad in Germany for a year. I had not seen her for at least that long, and I think I had talked to her maybe once. So when she came back, my entire family (except me, I think I had to work) went to the airport to pick her up. I went to my parents house to wait for them. I was watching TV when I heard the car pull in, and got really excited that they were home, like a german shepherd. I ran out the back door, and my sister was coming up the stairs. I went to go into the previously mentioned wrestling move, but gained a little too much momentum, and kind of just went down the stairs a bit too fast. I went to grab her shoulder to regain my balance, but instead.......... Can you see where this is going? Yup. My hand landed right on of my sister's breasts. Not just a graze, but a full on cup. A handful, if I may. Like I said, I had some momentum going, so it lasted long enough to be even more awkward than it should have been. After I hadn't seen her in a year, this is how I greeted her. Right in front of my whole family. Both parents, my other sister, and my grandma all saw it. A rewind button might have come in handy right about then. No one has ever brought it up since, and rightfully so... until now.
I'll end with this-

Monday, January 5, 2009

Linkin Park- on the couch

Ok, so I hate linkin park. Like, pretty passionately. I always have, and I hold them at least partially responsible for the angst-mongering, desperate, whiny douchebag garbage that plagued popular rock radio in the early 00's, and continues to bug intelligent, musically tasteful people to this day. I don't mean to sound pretentious with that last part, I basically just mean people who aren't sh1theads.

Someone I know recently made a point; and it's one I couldn't agree with more. If the singer (Chester Bennington) had recieved JUST ONE hug from his mother when he was a kid, we would be living in a world WITHOUT Linkin Park. Imagine it. Let's call this world "heaven".

Ok, enough disgust. I am writing this to get to the bottom of my hatred for this inexplicably popular loser music by breaking it down. This is my attempt at an objective view at the sadly NOT late, NEVER great Linkin Park. Keep in mind, this is not easy for me.

Starting with lyrics:

papercut- I don't know what stressed me first, or how the pressure was fed

numb- I've become so numb, I can't feel you there

breaking the habit- memories consume, like opening the wound, I'm pickin me apart again

...............Ok, I can't find it in myself to continue. And that even sounds like a LP lyric. UGH.

Let's string those three lyrics together, shall we? They, as their lyrics tend to do, deal with:

A- external torment. (it's not me, it's you.)

B- inability to healthily interact with people. (more on this one below.)

C- a probably skewed perception of past experiences. AKA IT WASN'T SO BAD, DUMMY. GET A HOLD OF YOURSELF.

-add on to B: their lyrics CONSTANTLY hold a message of "not fitting in" while being in an ongoing, and never successful, struggle to do so.

-also, there is an ever-present "you" in the songs, placing the blame on the so-called "antisocial behavior" on someone else.

WHICH LEADS ME, to "external torment", or A. What musician has been hammered flat by people so badly that EVERY song needs to have, give or take a few teardrops, the exact same theme? I gaurantee Chester the one-toe-water-tester has not. Look it up. He was a "drug addict" (a term that is often fudged in order to get attention) that worked at burger king before his "stinkin' park" fame. In other words, the clown you PROBABLY know, or have known, who happened to make it big. By crying. A lot. And this particular clown continued crying, even after he made it big. Shocking, I know.

Here's what I picture: There's this little baby bird with it's beak open, cheeping, cheeping, just wanting a worm, ONE LOUSY WORM from momma-bird. And momma-bird never comes back to the nest. He thinks maybe she got eated by big bad Mr. Owl! But really momma-bird just got tired of his incessant chatter. Baby birdie resents her, very very much, and his lil' brother and sister birds soon learn to fly and find their own wormies! But back in the nest, there's still little baby chester, all grown up and no one to feed him. But he's just a hungry lil' baby!! No one ever taught the lil' fella to fly, or to catch his own wormies to snack on! So there he sits, cheeping away, hoping momma-bird will come back someday and teach him how to be a big bird, instead of a helpless chewed up piece of bubble gum with a greedy complaing f*cking mouth.

ANALYSIS: I f*ckin' hate linkin park.