Get Motivated!

It's the one-week anniversary of my trip to San Antonio for the Get Motivated! Business Seminar featuring some of your favorite celebrities. Lady Gaga, Kate Plus 8, Tiger Woods, Rihanna, Robert Pattinson... none of these people were there.

However, Terry Bradshaw and George W. Bush were.

Drivers suck

I need everyone to use their turn signals when changing lanes. Thanking you in advance.

I realize you think you're the only driver who deserves to be on the road at any given moment, but try to do me a favor and recognize us asshole drivers who had the nerve to take jobs with normal business hours.

Oh, wait. There's one exception. If you are interested in causing a collision that will stop traffic and make the rest of us late to work or late to pick up our canine offspring at daycare after work, please continue to flout traffic laws and common courtesy.

Oh, wait. There's another exception. If you don't value your own life and want to take out as many people as possible with you, don't worry about signaling.

I can actually get behind that.

The Avett Brothers

Enjoy this musical interlude before I rant about something that pisses me off.

Audiences suck

This is where I start: I hate Dallas.
This is where I end: I hate young white people.

Here's how it goes down:
I go to a lot of live music and comedy shows (mostly music). That's what I like to do with my money and spare time. But I feel like I'm one of maybe 10 people in DFW who knows how to shut the hell up during a performance.

Dallas people like to be noticed, but they don't like to accomplish anything of value or contribute anything to society. They just like to disrupt performers and ruin everyone's good time. They seem to think that if a guy on stage addresses them for being dicks, they've made a positive impression on that person. Or they'll be taken on tour. Or someone in the audience will cream their jeans and want to fuck them.

I've seen shows in many venues in many cities, but I've never been so embarrassed and uncomfortable as I get in Dallas. And worse, the asshole revolution is apparently taking over Austin. My friend recently reported that "motherfuckers wouldn't shut their suckholes" at a Bon Iver show. Austin was the only oasis in this godforsaken cultural desert of a state, but if it's a lost cause too, I need to move. Or cave in and join a militia if only for the pleasure of shooting people in the face.

But it's not necessarily a Dallas or Texas thing. Could it be generational? I attended Leonard Cohen and Elvis Costello shows over the summer and was ultrapleasantly surprised at the respect given to those two gentlemen. Maybe it's just my generation and younger whose heads are skull-shaped bags of douche. Except I saw Chris Rock last year with a decidedly younger and certainly more mixed-race crowd than the average rock act attracts, and the "I love you, Chris" comments were kept to a minimum. What gives?

So do I have to conclude that it's young white twentysomethings that are the scourge of the performing arts? That hardly sounds fair or provable. But FUCK YES. Fuck those kids in their loud mouths.

With apologies to David Cross for the reprehensible audience he had to endure. Especially that whore Donna Jo.

Swallowed when I should have spat

Until I think of something worthwhile to write about (actually, I did think of something on the way home from work yesterday, but I promptly forgot it upon arriving home and finding a fresh 1970 episode of Hee Haw waiting on the DVR), I'm just going to list the things I accidentally ingested today.

A bug

Gasoline while siphoning fuel from the neighbor's car

A small piece of my own tongue flesh

Fruit

The remnants of my pride

Last night's leftovers (what am I, a hobo?)

Reasons I Haven't Been Writing This Blog Lately

I've been playing defense for the Texas Longhorns.

I visited the dog every day she was in canine rehab for dogsmack.

All the cool kids are using WordPress instead of Google Blogger.

I'm building a decoy dog from my dog's shed hair.

I'm building a bridge to a better tomorrow. Out of dog hair.

Laziness begets sleeptitude.

I spend a lot of my spare time wishing I had more spare time to make wishes for more spare time.

My bosses at In This Economy? are slave drivers/owners.

I went to culinary school to learn to cook meth.

The hookworms have made me... sooo... sloooooowww.

Portland: A Brief History

Portland, Oregon is a city full of unbearable hipsters and filthy hippies.

Comedian Brian Gaar

In the semi-finals of the Funniest Person in Austin competition:

How SurlyZ Got His Groove and Daughter Back

I may be speaking too soon. Things can change in three weeks. My plane to Portland could crash on Memorial Day. I could contract swine flu and die... by sneezing when I'm putting in my contacts, causing me to impale my brain on my finger, because that's the only way for a moderately healthy human to die from that overhyped shit.

But as of today, my plan for Saturday, May 30 is to drive most or all of the way to San Antonio and retrieve my little girl.



No, not that adorable human baby. I'm talking about the gorgeous brindle daddy's girl on the right.

It's been five+ years since I've had custody, and the stars have willed that I have her again. Long story. And none of your business.

Here she is again about to lick a cat to death.



You people are in for it now.

The Colonel Is (Was) Missing

(from the archives)

February 23, 1985
LOUISVILLE, Ky. —— Less than five years after his death, the chicken-fried corpse of Harland "(The) Colonel" Sanders was stolen last night from his heavily seasoned coffin in what police are calling an old-fashioned, finger-licking body-snatching.

The grave robbers released a photo (below) of The Colonel's body with a note demanding a ransom of a bucket of original $100 bills, a bucket of crispy $100 bills and a family-sized order of mashed potatoes.

More details to follow.





UPDATE: The body has been found in a Japanese river. See this story for a picture and info.

WE DID IT!!!

We've secured Iraq!!!! Let freedom fucking ring!

After six-plus years and who cares anymore how many deaths, we've achieved the success in Iraq that Wolfowitz, Rumsfeld, Cheney, Perle, Feith and Kristol promised us. And you people doubted these brilliant men. Well, I'll be the first to pitch in for the Mt. Rushmore-style monument that is sure to come.

This New York Times article documents all the signs of a free and happy nation: gambling, booze, hookers and cockfights. Why do you think the most joyous places on Earth are Indian casinos and Civil War-era cockfight reenactments? (Those goddamn roosters are sticklers for costume detail.)

Here's Bill Kristol laying out the plan to win the peace in Iraq before the war:

OLD PEOPLE and how to deal with them

I've said it a million times: Do NOT empower the elderly.

Because when you do, THIS is what happens.

Now them old motherfuckers gonna be shooting kids off their lawns. Next thing you know, they're going to demand respect. And fuck if I'll be the one to give it to them.

In another age-related opinion, since it seems like that's what I'll be doing in this goddamn post, let me just say this: Women: wait, let me start over. Two colons in a row look weird. Let me just say this: Women, don't fuck with the aging process. It's going to be OK. Aging is what people do. Let nature slowly decompose us until our loose skin catches on a corner and pulls off us like the sheet on a ghost in a Scooby-Doo cartoon.

I mean, is this how you wanna go out? It's sooo not as cool as a heroin overdose. But hey, what is? Shit, I guess dying from injecting anything is cooler than most ways of dying.

I'm beginning to love Glenn Beck's show

Something awesome happens every day!

Me? A CWB?

Somehow earned the nickname CuntWhoreBitch from this shit-talkin' chick at the bar last night. Well, if a CWB has feelings, all of them are hurting right now.

For real though, there's something sexy about foul-mouthed women (see Sarah Silverman).
















What are you doing? I said, see Sarah Silverman, goddammit. Do I have to hold your fucking hand and lead you around like a show pony? AAARRRRRGGHHHH!!!! Ponies don't have hands. See what you've done? Just leave me alone.

Things I done did and will accomplish today

DONE DID ACCOMPLISH

1. Wash car
2. Grocery store
3. Laundry
4. Eat something delicious
5. Pay bills
6. Finish reading book; start new one
7. Watch a movie
8. Catch up on Friday Night Lights
9. Shower
10. Have first beer

WILL ACCOMPLISH

1. Drink 8-10 more beers
2. Five or so shots of whiskey
3. Punch someone for looking at me funny
4. Hide my car in an alley until the cops drive by
5. High-tail it home on the backstreets
6. Run over the shrubs near the garage
7. Vomit in the crushed shrubs
8. Go inside and wipe the splashback off my shoes
9. Drunk text everyone in my cell
10. Pass out with a frozen pizza in the oven


Best Saturday ever.

Where did we go wrong?

This country is falling apart. The government's freaking out over bonuses they knew were being paid to the fuck-ups at AIG. Geithner doesn't know how to fix the banks. Rush Limbaugh gets press coverage for his cocksuckery. People are trying to scalp tickets they got for free to the Jay Leno show in (or rather, near) Detroit even though the tickets were overpriced in the first place. The North Koreans are holding two of our least-known (and least-careful) journalists. Nobody watches Friday Night Lights but me, two of my friends and the critics. Gary Sinise writes columns for CNN.com. YouTube apparently took down my favorite Van Morrison performance. The Special Olympics are waging a war on the word "retard."

And if any new countries were formed or dissolved in the last seven years, I need to update my motherfucking globe.

That's it. I'm drinking all day.

Oh wait. Here's something right with the country: the great Alejandro Escovedo.

Tip o' the tweed cap to a nice save

It was actually recommended to me in my annual performance evaluation at work that I be more social. I explained that I go to the bar every night as evidenced by all the dry heaving I do in the men's room each morning.

No dice. Turns out, I need to be more social at work so people will recognize me if they need to ask a copy editing question. Great. Meet people to let them know I'm the resident socially maladroit editor. Like there's anyone who can't spot copy editor types a mile away. With our pocket protectors, orthopedic shoes, inappropriate comments, awkward silences, Simpsons minutae and so forth.

But that still seemed like something I could at least think about working up the nerve to consider. And then a miracle happened: St. Patrick's Day. The happiest day of the year. Our office is apparently on notice from the parent corp. to watch unnecessary spending. So we didn't get the beer we thought was coming to us at the afternoon "party." Instead we all got a swift Irish kick to the nuts.

THEN... a hero emerged, took up a collection and made a beer run. We were drunk and dancing on our desks before the 5 o'clock whistle blew at 6.

Everybody's happy. We had a good start to the St. Patrick's Day evening. Alcohol was absorbed into the bloodstream. Stories were exchanged. Asses were photocopied. Typical unofficial office party shit. Plus, I accomplished a mother fucking career goal. Ya heard, bitches?







Excuse me while I type up my two weeks notice.

Lost my phone

I lost my phone last week and bought a new one for hundreds of hard-to-come-by dollars. In the same week, I had other unexpected payments, including to the IRS, who think because I consider myself a liberal that I want to pay more tax instead of getting a return.

But I will have the last laugh. Someone found my phone. And I'm either faking my death or founding a church. I can you tell which I prefer.

Where've I been?

Well, I'll tell you.

Right here.

I sign in to this blog several times a week.

But I get distracted.

By movies.

By beer.

By other projects.

By work.

By Twitter.

By news stories about Twitter.

By news stories about douchebag public officials who use Twitter.

By music.

By bars.

By healthy eating.

By unhealthy eating.

By dogs.

And whatever else there is in life.

For this blog exercise, I am a French bulldog

Because I have no discernible musical talent, any time I step foot into a recording studio I pass the fuck out. And in this case, I had company: some dude asleep in a chair.

I suck

Fate is against me. I've missed at least a half dozen Black Joe Lewis shows that I had easy access to. Why, oh, why can't I make this happen? Fuck it. I'll make a special trip to Austin when he gets back home to play. It's not like I have any other hobbies. Or a life whatsoever.

Here's a taste of what I can expect:

The end of an era

It was only yesterday that I didn't share an office with my supervisor. I shared an office with a fellow Cubs fan and was preparing for April when we could pull up the ESPN Gamecast and pretend to work while watching the little dots round the bases. And today would have been Journey Friday. I don't know if I can justify listening to Journey by myself.

All good things come to an end before they begin. Wait. Is that a pro-life slogan? If not, I'm copyrighting it so they can't use it.

Now my former office mate is training the new guy, so our boss asked me to switch offices with the new guy, who was sharing the office with our supervisor. It all happened so fast and doesn't feel right. Like the first time I had sex. And the second. And the third. And the most recent.

It might be a good time to move to Austin. Gainful employment be damned. Goddamned.

Notes

The all-new me starts Tuesday. I'm talking diet and exercise. And that's not all. I'm also going to eat better and be more active. ...
Actually, I guess that was all.

I made a cameo appearance in Austin this weekend. Coincidentally, former President Bill Clinton was also in town. One coincidence is that it was Presidents Day weekend, and I was voted "most likely to be President" when I was a senior in high school. But the main coincidence is that I work on the assembly line of a company that makes vagina-flavored cigars.

My roommate gets back Friday after a month-long absence to record with his band. I'll be glad when he gets back because I can give back the gun I borrowed from him. I wouldn't need the gun, but killing spiders by stepping on them doesn't always work if the spider is quick. Or the stepper is a slow, fat cracker.

I'm glad Sports Illustrated does a swimsuit issue because I like to keep up with fashion. But I wrote them a letter requesting that they not waste valuable pages on bodypainting and strategically placed sand dollars. Those are impractical ideas, and summer is too close around the corner to be fooling around.

Fuck all this. I'm going to bed.

Using the whole fist, Doc?

High blood pressure. High cholesterol. Meds coming soon.

Heart ok. Lungs ok. One more thing to check out in a week or two.

Oh, and the prostate is ok. Now I know what it feels like for someone to put on a rubber glove, lube up a few fingers and shove them up so far inside that you can bite them off. I would like to apologize to all the people I victimized in the past. I now know that all surprises are not pleasant.

God, I feel traumatized. Maybe this will take my mind off that violating experience:

A word on prostate exams

Uncool.

Give it to me straight, Doc

Eleven hours from my second physical of the decade. The last one didn't go so well. The doctor said I need to change my lifestyle. And I did. Based on my own brand of medical science. I figure that if I'm eating unhealthy food, nothing would cut through the cholesterol and other poisons better than a detergent. And what's the best disinfecting detergent? Alcohol! So I increased my alcohol consumption from 4 days a week to every waking non-working hour. After further study, I'm not sure that was the best decision. Sure, I've got a lot of memories. Like that one time I got drunk and passed out and forgot everything I did. And then there was that other time I did that. And another time. Oh, I have so many memories of nights I forgot. Anyway, it will take some time to get the results back on my blood work, so I'm going on a 96-hour Presidents Day weekend bender that will cover the state of Texas from Denton to Dallas to Austin. Then I'll return to this blog with a slew of stories I will have forgotten. Cheers.

Here's a blog entry

For some reason, a year later and after many months of sitting on the shelf, the Vampire Weekend album is really growing on me.

But that's not why we're here today. We're here to start the 1.5-day countdown to my physical. I predict I'll be put on various meds, be told to avoid delicious foods and mind-altering beverages, and then given six weeks to live. If that happens, I'm selling all my CDs, including Vampire Weekend, and taking up a wildly expensive heroin habit. I'm talking about some shit handmade by the Taliban themselves. In between highs, I'll relaunch my research into a long-range rifle that can shoot angels and deities out of Heaven. So far, I can shoot only as far as the moon. But I think that's pretty good for a half-wit.

Car hole

Don't cry for me. I'm already dead.

I'm going for my once-a-decade physical on Thursday. I know I have high cholesterol because I've had it for 10 years and ain't done nothin' about it. I know I have high blood pressure because my dentist(!) takes my BP every six months, and it's been high for over a year. I assume I have prostate cancer because I have what old-man prostate-medication commercials call "increased urgency." I also have a lump in my chest that I'm pretty sure is not love-related.

So here are my short-term life goals:

1. Survive to see the April 5 Springsteen concert in Austin. If he pulls me onstage to dance, I can die immediately after that song and be happy.

2. Survive to complete the rockumentary my friend MWing and I are producing about the defunct rock band Bigloo. But if I don't make it, I'm counting on you, my loyal readers, to make sure MWing doesn't leave me out of the credits when he finishes the film. That guy can't be trusted. More than a few of his past filmmaking partners have mysteriously disappeared from the film credits. And from this Earth.

3. Survive to spend at least two weeks gloating about the Longhorns football team winning a national championship next January.

4. Survive until January 2011 to gloat about back-to-back championships.

5. Survive until December 21, 2012, so we can all die together at the end of the world.

But again, Springsteen is the most important thing on the list. His music will probably cure what ails me. Until then, enjoy my life story:

Twitter

So I'm trying out this Twitter thing at the behest of my friend Chad. I'm still skeptical, although I've found a couple friends from my college newspaper days. Not to mention burgeoning comedian BG, who you might recognize from the performance below.

So Twitter is a way for people to know what you're thinking at any given moment. I expected it to be a brain implant that siphoned my thoughts and zapped them up to a satellite and back down to all of your brain chips. But apparently, I have to go online and type stuff. Like here, but shorter.

Supposedly, you can update your Twitter site using text messages, but my phone doesn't want to cooperate. My phone is much cooler than me. While I'm writing blogs and Twitters, it's out riding Harleys and getting laid.

If you're on Twitter, I go by the name surlyz. Because I'm surly. And getting surlier by the second. For I have only begun to surl.

Anyway, here's that performance. I hope you like sexy stories about cat rape.

LATE UPDATE
BG removed the cat rape video because the higher-ups at his company may be cat rapists and not amused by such jokes.

As promised, the great Bill Hicks

Recorded October 9, 1993. Broadcast on The Late Show last night, January 30, 2009:

Thank you, David Letterman

A man can't always atone for his sins. But I think Dave did his best Friday night by showing the Bill Hicks performance that was banned from the Late Show in October 1993. Dave brought on Bill's mother and offered a genuine, soulful apology and took sole blame for the decision that hurt and humiliated the brilliant comedian who would die a few short months later from pancreatic cancer at age 32.

I love David Letterman and Bill Hicks, so it was an emotional moment of closure after years of bitterness that, really, only Bill's family and fans remember. But it was important.

I hope to post the performance later. Here's Bill talking about being censored. Ignore the public access host.

As Chris Rock said, "Life is long."

I've accomplished nothing in my life. I don't plan on accomplishing anything. I've been sick for two and a half days now, and I'm fucking miserable. If all I have to look forward to is occasional illness and a dying carcass, I'm not interested.

I still get a small kick out of the little things in life: Blackwater losing its contract in Iraq, the return of Friday Night Lights even though this is probably the last season, watching old people slip and break their hips after the ice storm we had this past week, mentally toying with the nonexistent recipe to my not-world-famous chicken-fried rolls with a gravy center, and women with low self-esteem.

But is that enough? Are those good enough reasons to keep plodding along in this world?

Maybe if some of the rolls have cream gravy and some have brown gravy...

Goddamn Dems

Why can't they pay their taxes? First Geithner, now Daschle. We're trying to get a Cabinet in place here, people! And what's with Daschle's glasses?




Side note: During one of the three times I went jogging when I lived in DC, I crossed paths with Tom Daschle. I gave him a nod, and he gave me the finger. It was shortly after he'd been ousted from office, so I'm sure he was bitter toward humanity.

Side note correction: He didn't give me the finger. But I'm not sure if he nodded back or even made eye contact. And that's just rude.

Banned in the U.S.A.

This is from a news story I kept after September 11. It's a list of all the songs Clear Channel temporarily banned from it's more than 1,000 radio stations. Normally, I'm all for keeping Dave Matthews and Bush off the airwaves. But I thought this was silly at the time, as crushed and distraught and depressed and angry as I was at the tragedy I watched live on TV.

This is a reminder of the irrationality that comes with fear.

''Bodies'' - Drowning Pool
''Death Blooms'' - Mudvayne
''Dread and the Fugitive Mind'' - Megadeth
''Sweating Bullets'' - Megadeth
''Click Click Boom'' - Saliva
''Boom'' - P.O.D.
''Seek and Destroy'' - Metallica
''Harvester of Sorrow'' - Metallica
''Enter Sandman'' - Metallica
''Fade to Black'' - Metallica
All songs by Rage Against the Machine
''Head Like a Hole'' - Nine Inch Nails
''Bad Religion'' - Godsmack
''Intolerance'' - Tool
''Blow Up the Outside World'' - Soundgarden
''Fell on Black Days'' - Soundgarden
''Black Hole Sun'' - Soundgarden
''Shot Down in Flames'' - AC/DC
''Shoot to Thrill'' - AC/DC
''Dirty Deeds'' - AC/DC
''Highway to Hell'' - AC/DC
''Safe in New York City'' - AC/DC
''T.N.T.'' - AC/DC
''Hells Bells'' - AC/DC
''War Pigs'' - Black Sabbath
''Sabbath Bloody Sabbath'' - Black Sabbath
''Suicide Solution'' - Ozzy Osbourne
''Holy Diver'' - Dio
''Jet Airliner'' - Steve Miller Band
''Jump'' - Van Halen
''Another One Bites the Dust'' - Queen
''Killer Queen'' - Queen
''Hit Me With Your Best Shot'' - Pat Benatar
''Love Is a Battlefield'' - Pat Benatar
''Dead Man's Party'' - Oingo Boingo
''It's the End of the World As We Know It (and I Feel Fine)'' - R.E.M.
''Burning Down the House'' - Talking Heads
''Some Heads Are Gonna Roll'' - Judas Priest
''Run Like Hell'' - Pink Floyd
''Mother'' - Pink Floyd
''Crash and Burn'' - Savage Garden
''Crash Into Me'' - Dave Matthews
''Walk Like an Egyptian'' - Bangles
''My City Was Gone'' - Pretenders
''Ironic'' - Alanis Morissette
''Falling for the First Time'' - Barenaked Ladies
''Bad Day'' - Fuel
''St. Elmo's Fire (Man in Motion)'' - John Parr
''When You're Falling'' - Afro-Celt Sound System with Peter Gabriel
''Dust in the Wind'' - Kansas
''Stairway to Heaven'' - Led Zeppelin
''A Day in the Life'' - The Beatles
''Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds'' - The Beatles
''Ticket To Ride'' - The Beatles
''Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da'' - The Beatles
''Knockin' on Heaven's Door'' - Bob Dylan and Guns n' Roses
''Fire'' - Arthur Brown
''Burnin' For You'' - Blue Oyster Cult
''Live and Let Die'' - Paul McCartney & Wings
''Hey Joe'' - Jimi Hendrix
''Doctor My Eyes'' - Jackson Brown
''Crumblin' Down'' - John Mellencamp
''Paper in Fire'' - John Mellencamp
''Sunday Bloody Sunday'' - U2
''Smokin'' - Boston
''Only the Good Die Young'' - Billy Joel
''Eve of Destruction'' - Barry McGuire
''(Na Na Hey Hey) Kiss Him Goodbye'' - Steam
''On Broadway'' - Drifters
''Johnny Angel'' - Shelley Fabares
''Black is Black'' - Los Bravos
''I Go To Pieces'' - Peter & Gordon
''A World Without Love'' - Peter & Gordon
''(You're the) Devil in Disguise'' - Elvis Presley
''She's Not There'' - Zombies
''Bennie and the Jets'' - Elton John
''Daniel'' - Elton John
''Rocket Man'' - Elton John
''Great Balls of Fire'' - Jerry Lee Lewis
''Evil Ways'' - Santana
''Get Together'' - Youngbloods
''The Boy From New York City'' - Ad Libs
''Blowin' in the Wind'' - Peter, Paul and Mary
''Leaving On a Jet Plane'' - Peter, Paul and Mary
''Ruby Tuesday'' - Rolling Stones
''Shattered'' - Rolling Stones
''Bridge Over Troubled Waters'' - Simon and Garfunkel
''See You in September'' - Happenings
''I Feel the Earth Move'' - Carole King
''In the Year 2525'' - Zager and Evans
''Spirit in the Sky'' - Norman Greenbaum
''The Worst That Could Happen'' - Brooklyn Bridge
''When Will I See You Again'' - Three Degrees
''Peace Train'' - Cat Stevens
''Morning Has Broken'' - Cat Stevens
''Dead Man's Curve'' - Jan and Dean
''Nowhere to Run'' - Martha & The Vandellas
''Dancing in the Street'' - Martha & The Vandellas and Van Halen
''He Ain't Heavy He's My Brother'' - Hollies
''Wonderful World'' - Sam Cooke and Herman's Hermits
''A Sign of the Times'' - Petula Clark
''American Pie'' - Don McLean
''Last Kiss'' - J. Frank Wilson (and recently done by Pearl Jam)
''That'll Be the Day'' - Buddy Holly and the Crickets
''Imagine'' - John Lennon
''Mack the Knife'' - Bobby Darin
''Rock the Casbah'' - The Clash
''Wipeout'' - Surfaris
''And When I Die'' - Blood, Sweat & Tears
''Bits and Pieces'' - Dave Clark Five
''Disco Inferno'' - Tramps
''The Night Chicago Died'' - Paper Lace
''New York New York'' - Frank Sinatra
''Travelin' Band'' - Creedence Clearwater Revival
''You Dropped a Bomb On Me'' - Gap Band
''Smooth Criminal'' - Alien Ant Farm
''Duck & Run'' -- 3 Doors Down
''The End'' - The Doors
''Jumper'' - Third Eye Blind
''America'' - Neil Diamond
''Fly Away'' - Lenny Kravitz
''Free Fallin''' - Tom Petty
''I'm On Fire'' - Bruce Springsteen
''I'm Goin' Down'' - Bruce Springsteen
''In the Air Tonight'' - Phil Collins
''Rooster'' - Alice In Chains
''Sea of Sorrow'' - Alice In Chains
''Down in a Hole'' - Alice In Chains
''Them Bones'' - Alice In Chains
''Sure Shot'' - Beastie Boys
''Sabotage'' - Beastie Boys
''Fire Woman'' - Cult
''Santa Monica'' - Everclear
''Hey Man, Nice Shot'' - Filter
''Learn to Fly'' - Foo Fighters
''Falling Away from Me'' - Korn
''Aeroplane'' - Red Hot Chili Peppers
''Under the Bridge'' - Red Hot Chili Peppers
''Bullet with Butterfly Wings'' - Smashing Pumpkins
''Chop Suey'' - System of a Down
''End of the World'' - Skeeter Davis
''Travelin' Man'' - Ricky Nelson
''Have You Seen Her'' - Chi-Lites
''We Gotta Get Out of This Place'' - Animals
''Rescue Me'' - Fontella Bass
''Devil With the Blue Dress'' - Mitch Ryder and Detroit Wheels
''Fire and Rain'' - James Taylor
''War'' - Edwin Starr and Bruce Springsteen
''Tuesday's Gone'' - Lynyrd Skynyrd
''Break Stuff'' - Limp Bizkit
''Brain Stew'' - Green Day
''Say Hello 2 Heaven'' - Temple of the Dog
''Fly'' - Sugar Ray
''When It's Over'' - Sugar Ray
''Bound for the Floor'' - Local H
''Left Behind, Wait and Bleed'' - Slipknot
''Speed Kills'' - Bush
''Down'' - 311
''Big Bang Baby'' - Stone Temple Pilots
''Dead and Bloated'' - Stone Temple Pilots
''99 Luftballons'' - Nina
''No Smoke Without a Fire'' - Bad Company

I'm going down

I lay on the couch cocooned in a blanket. Alternating between feverish shivering (illness) and euphoric weeping (Springsteen live on the television machine), I tried to decide if I was delirious. I couldn't come to a conclusion.

The only thing I knew for sure: Next time I get sick, I'm hiring a cool-skinned lady to caress my forehead and fetch me water. What's the going rate for that anyway?

Wrong again, Zod

Despite the company-wide salary freeze at my office (I blame the overproduction of zinc for the nation's economic decline), we still had individual job-performance evaluations.

I got generally glowing reviews. Which means they haven't discovered the troop of monkeys I keep in the building's basement to do my editing work for me.

But the one comment in the report that when read right can apply to all facets of my life was "can make a good decision when necessary."

I prefer to put a little emphasis on "can" with an implied "but" at the end and maybe a "sure" at the beginning so that it's:

"Sure, he can make a good decision when necessary, but..."

For instance, I left uncooked ground beef in the fridge for over a month. I wanted tacos last night, but the beef didn't look right. There, at that moment, I was on the cusp of a good decision: Dispose of the rotting ground beef. Instead, I doused it in anti-bacterial kitchen cleaner for an hour before rinsing and cooking.

Did I get sick? You betcha. Real sick. I'm currently on life support in ICU. Originally, I wanted to write this as a public service announcement à la Yul Brynner.




Except that I picture myself more as the Steve McQueen of food poisoning.



Tainted beef is the thinking man's food with the eating man's taste.

The Fist Couple... I mean, First Couple

Hey, whatever they're into, man. I can dig it. But I feel some things are on a need-to-know basis.

Yes we can. I guess.

I'm finding hard to believe the past eight years is actually and finally behind us. Thinking about all the things that were wrongfully inflicted on this country dampened the exuberance I experienced this morning. What if today is the best day we'll have for the next four, eight, 50 years? What if we're in too deep a hole? And there's nothing like the global celebration of a fellow human ascending to the most powerful position in the world to make me feel like I've wasted my life. I haven't done anything, nor do I expect to do anything with my remaining years.

The only silver lining to my nothingness that I can think of right now is that I could have ascended to the most powerful position in the world and been this guy:



He should thank his lucky stars that history remembers his buffoonery more than his war crimes.

Good fucking riddance.

R.I.P. Urethra

I predicted this. I said, "This has the potential to be very, very bad." And I nailed it. I'm demanding that I be put in charge of inauguration entertainment from now on. I wouldn't pick an act who has lost it. I mean really lost it. For fuck's sake, she says "My cunt... tree 'tis of thee... ." Now I can't stop imagining what it looks like.

Happy Obama Day!

Join me for mimosas, bloody marys and a champagne toast this morning as we celebrate a new day and the true New Year. We will watch live coverage of the inauguration and party like it's 10 years past 1999 (pour some out for the stillborn Y2K, y'all). Plus, I've got movies on standby (waving just to say hi) in case Biden starts ad libbing his oath of office.

Then we're all going streaking downtown. Just like the prophets foretold.

Fleetwood Mac Daddy

First, let's dispel all the rumors from Saturday night.

Rumor: We had a party at the house.
Status: True. We did. It lasted until 5:30 a.m.

Rumor: I was wasted on whiskey, sick and passed out by 10:45 p.m.
Status: True. I went overboard. Maybe smoked something I shouldn't have. I was spinning right round, baby, right round, like a record, baby. Right round round round.

Rumor: I don't know the meaning of "dispel."
Status: It means "legitimize a rumor." Right?

The morning after

7:30 a.m., January 6, 2009

I fucking love football.

Halftime

8:48 p.m. January 5, 2009

I fucking hate football.

Elvis and the Costellos

I don't have to tell you people.

Well... yes, I probably do. If you'd get off the computer every once and awhile, I wouldn't have to.

Elvis Costello is doing great interviews about music with various icons who know their shit (so far, Elton John, Lou Reed, Bill Clinton, James Taylor, Tony Bennett). And there are several performances in each episode.

This is one of my favorites:



The series is called Spectacle, and it's on the Sundance Channel.

Wait, 2008, I'm not done!

I've barely been out in public since Thanksgiving. I had every intention of living it up the last two days of December, but when the time came, I chose to watch TV and movies at home. So should I party at home alone all day today to start off the new year right? Or go running and eat healthy food to start off the new year like a goddamn pussy?

Forget all that. Here are the notable moments from 2008:

Barack Obama
My liberal guilt has been cleansed from my soul now that black people will have the chance to enslave us whites.

Chinese Democracy
After a full month of nonstop listening, I think I finally burned out on this album. But I'd be lying if I said it wasn't the greatest album of all time. Wait. I think that was the lie. But for real, I dig it, and I'm glad I lived to see the clusterfuck that is the new Guns n' Roses disc.

Bigloo, R.I.P.
After 12 years and as many as 15 shows, my friends' band finally called it quits. If those guys hadn't been around to write songs, it would probably mean that someone invented a time machine to go back and abort them in the womb. That person must be stopped.

Sarah Palin
Speaking of stopping abortions...
2008 was the year of the woman. The confident (Hillary). The beautiful (that chick who bent over at the bar last month and wasn't wearing a bra). And, of course, Gov. Palin. She embodied the most important quality we think of when we think of women: that Republican chicks are really good in the sack.

Concerts, concerts, concerts
I saw Springsteen, Radiohead, Chris Rock, Tom Petty, My Morning Jacket, Van Halen, Tom Waits, Nick Lowe, The Hold Steady, Wolf Parade and fuckload of others. I regret missing The Cool Kids (twice) and Q-Tip. It wasn't a race thing, I promise. But to make up for it, I will only go to black shows in 2009. Scratch that. I've already dealt with my liberal guilt. So I'll just see black music in February, like everyone else. Hang on... it's not a leap year, is it? No? Whew! Twenty-nine days would be excessive.

My health
I survived my first cancer scare and the common cold. Now I think I have an enlarged prostate. But because 2008 was the year of my health and I didn't go to the doctor before the new year, I will have to ignore my prostate until 2010. My prostate knew it was in a race against the clock, and it lost. Sucks to be it.

So, hooray for 2009! Ten years ago, I was starting my first post-college job at a newspaper. Ten years from now, I hope to be bionic. Or just generally unstoppable.