04.05.11 – a tuesday


bibulous [bib-yuh-luhs] adj. 1. fond of or addicted to drink 2. absorbent; spongy


Thomas Hobbes (1588), Booker T. Washington (1856), Spencer Tracy (1900), Bette Davis (1908), Gregory Peck (1916), Colin Powell (1937), Christopher “Kid” Reid (1964), Mike McCready (1966)


One thing about me that is I love it when I get into a conversation with someone who just won’t shut the hell up about Kurt Cobain.

You’ve probably run into one or two in your travels. They’re easy to spot. Mainly, they’re sullen dudes in their 30s or early 40s who have an absolute disdain for any new music unless it’s on vinyl and, somehow, Ben Gibbard is involved.

Personally, I think Cobain was an overrated mess who did more to hinder the progression of music than further it. If he hadn’t offed himself with a shotgun, he would’ve continued to front Nirvana as it released one album after another until everybody ceased to care. Such is the cycle of music and life.

But, no, Cobain committed suicide one afternoon because he was just so fucking tortured and couldn’t make sense of it all. So, instead of grunge quietly exiting the conscious mainstream, taking it’s place in the graveyard of genres past and allowing music to take the next logical step, we were treated to a holding pattern for about ten years.

It royally sucked. Stone Temple Pilots, Soundgarden, Rage Against The Machine and all of the combinations of members those bands could think of, dominated the airwaves for a long time. Nothing new was proffered. Just endless ridiculousness as one song was played over and over, disguised with another angst-riddled title.

Meanwhile, Pearl Jam, the one band that possessed the qualities to emerge from the grunge fiasco and actually contribute something viable, well, Eddie Vedder lost his shit and I don’t think he’s coming back.

Every all-time rock list or countdown or whatever is considered bullshit if Cobain isn’t prominently featured and given his “due.” If you don’t like Nirvana, you might as well simultaneously piss on the graves of John Lennon, Jimi Hendrix and Jim Morrison.

After the Beatles broke up, Paul, John, George and Ringo all went on to do their own thing which was pretty much trying to create Beatles’ tunes without actually being the Beatles. Same thing with The Police. The Pixies. The Talking Heads. Even N.W.A.

So whenever I’ve come into contact with one of the mindless automatons who love to lecture about the significance of Cobain and blah blah blah, I always ask this two-part question: If it was all so relevant then why, after Cobain’s demise, did drummer Dave Grohl go on to create Foo Fighters, a band that Nirvana fans would inherently dislike, and bassist Krist Novoselic turn away from the music business entirely?

Answer me that.


Perhaps the truth depends on a walk around the lake. ↔ Wallace Stevens


I have been to more Phish concerts (21) than any other band. I don’t actually like Phish all that much but they do have some badass tunes. Like this one, “You Enjoy Myself.”


This April 16th is Record Store Day. I’ve just realized this has been a music-heavy post.

→ I feel at peace with the world when there’s a Broadway musical that costs $1 million per week to produce. But that’s just me. I’m a sucker for quality theater, you know?

→ Do me a favor. Read this nonsense and tell me how it differs from some NFL sportscasters discussing their “Keys To The Game.”

04.05.10 – A Monday

Add to DeliciousAdd to DiggAdd to FaceBookAdd to Google BookmarkAdd to MySpaceAdd to NewsvineAdd to RedditAdd to StumbleUponAdd to TechnoratiAdd to Twitter


casuistry [kazh-oo-uh-stree] n. 1. specious, deceptive, or oversubtle reasoning, esp. in questions of morality; fallacious or dishonest application of general principles; sophistry 2. the application of general ethical principles to particular cases of conscience or conduct


Thomas Hobbes (1588), Booker T. Washington (1856), Spencer Tracy (1900), Lord Buckley (1906), Bette Davis (1908), Gregory Peck (1916), Arthur Hailey (1920), Roger Corman (1926), Stanley Turrentine (1934), Colin Powell (1937), Michael Moriarty (1941), Max Gail (1943), Christopher “Kid” Reid (1964), Mike McCready (1966), Paula Cole (1968)


My lady came from Paris yesterday so I spent last night hanging with her and that translates into no new standpoint today.


I think in a lot of ways unconditional love is a myth. My mom’s the only reason I know it’s a real thing. Conor Oberst


Despite my indie rock tendencies, I’d be kicked out of every hipster dufus bar I had the misfortune of walking into if people knew I really don’t care for Conor Oberst, or Bright Eyes as he’s better known by. There is one song of his, however, that will always resonate with me. Here’s “I Must Belong Somewhere.”


“It’s Butler vs. Duke for the National Title.” And I still don’t care.

→ Man, if only this was true. The saddest part of it is that it might actually do some good. Ugh.

Green Day? Soundgarden? Lady Gaga?!?! What the hell happened to you, Lollapalooza?

September 3rd – A Thursday


diaphanous [dahy-afuh-nuhs] adj. 1. very sheer and light; almost completely transparent or translucent 2. delicately hazy


Louis Sullivan (1856), Kitty Carlisle (1910), Alan Ladd (1913), Mort Walker (1923), Albert DeSalvo (1931), Al Jardine (1942), Costas Mandylor (1962), Charlie Sheen (1965), Trevor St. John (1971), The B.G. (1980)


After reading “Scientists Seek Warning Signs for Catastrophic Tipping Points,” two things occured to me.

One, it is basic common sense to state that if civilization consumes or destroys too much of one thing or another, the planet will compensate and not always in the most obvious way or the way we’re expecting.

Two, it’s not that we’re not smart enough. We just haven’t been around long enough to see all negative outcomes we’re capable of producing to correct our mistakes. You see, except when it comes to religion, we (and by we I mean not me) generally require unshakable proof before we’re convinced of anything. And not always even then.


Keep on going, and the chances are that you will stumble on something, perhaps when you are least expecting it.  I never heard of anyone ever stumbling on something sitting down. → Charles F. Kettering


For a few years now, I’ve been trying as hard as I can to become a fan of Grizzly Bear. Most of the songs were just too melancholy, or maybe I wasn’t giving it enough a chance. I guess I need a little bit of instant-likability. That’s probably more my fault than Grizzly Bear’s. Anyway, I downloaded “Two Weeks” a couple of days ago and it all just clicked and I’m now going back and giving Grizzly Bear a second chance. (I’m sure my good friend Ezgi will swell with pride after reading that.)


→ Lately, I’ve been noticing tons of women following me on Twitter who have very suggestive profile photos. I was under the impression these ladies were adding me due to the fact my own profile photo is indisputably sexy. (No matter which one I happen to be using that day.) Turns out, floozies are becoming a problem for Twitter as is documented in “Will Sluts Be The End of Twitter?” Man. Sluts ruin everything.

→ Remember Kid ‘N Play? Unless you’re under 20-years old or grew up on Neptune, I’ll assume your answer’s yes. Now, ever wonder what happened to those dudes after they exhausted the House Party franchise to death? Well, no word on Play‘s activities but Christopher “Kid” Reid is alive and well, and selling suits in St. Louis. No more pencil eraser hairdo but same old street savvy sass. How long before, due to this video clip being watched close to a million times in the past day or two, Kid ends up on some reality show? Write it down. You heard it here first.

→ Despite how you feel about the current health care debate going on in this country, if you have enough sense about you to do things like finding your way to your kitchen or remembering to breathe every couple of seconds, you should have no problem comprehending that the two-party system is sucking the life out of absolutely everything.