Monday, September 30, 2013

Bad Karmadillo

PORT CHESTER, N.Y. (AP) -- A theater manager says a stuffed armadillo that was stolen from Willie Nelson's band after a show in suburban New York has been returned unharmed. He says the band isn't pressing charges.
Who steals from Willie Nelson? And what's in that armadillo?

[Video of the armadillo bandit]

Tuesday, September 24, 2013

Saturday, September 21, 2013

Many Happy Returns, LC


During a triumphant three-hour show on the latest leg of his world tour, Cohen said:

"I hope I stay on the road a little bit longer - but you may not be so enthusiastic when you hear my reason.
You see I want to start smoking next year when I'll be 80. It's been a long barren time. I think it's the right age to recommence. I'd like to do it on stage and I'd like to be standing here like this, in front of sympathetic people like yourselves.
A nurse would come onto the stage with a silver tray. On that tray would be an open pack of cigarettes - the little cylinders gleaming like the pillars of a great temple.
She would approach me in her white pleated uniform, her little stockings and tiny white shoes. I'd take one of those cigarettes and tap it on that silver tray and she would light me up.
I'd say 'nurse before you go, would you mind tapping out a few of those bubbles in my IV'. Then I'd take my first drag and I'd feel extremely relaxed and I'd be able to review some of the disasters of my shabby past, especially my relationship with a certain woman I regret having disappointed."

A Bastardly 79th to the Canadian, may we all smoke at 80.

Thursday, September 19, 2013

Wednesday, September 18, 2013

Joe, You Win


I'm pre-jealous of your Replacements/GBV sojourn. It looks like it's kind of for dirty hippies, though - with the on-site camping and all - so that makes me feel a little better. Weren't you supposed to get us all tickets?

Tuesday, September 17, 2013

Wise Up Ghost

Ok fellas, it's here. And it's good. It's really, really good. Now I know that all of you guys are white as hell, and you're definition of funk usually involves the terms 'vanilla' and 'ice', but I think you will dig what's happening here. For This Project, there's the album, Wise Up Ghost, and a live show from last fucking night in Brooklyn, which I've dubbed Brooklyn Bowl since they played at a bowling alley. At the live show, there are also Rootsified versions of Costello classics like 'Spooky Girlfriend', 'I Want You', 'Chelsea', and 'Watching the Detectives'. All fantastic. Favorite tracks so far: 'Tripwire', 'Cinco Minutos Con Vos', 'Sugar Won't Work', and the title track. Get ya some!

Monday, September 16, 2013

Who Knew?





 So apparently, Jim Henson was covertly introducing us to porn at a very young age. My sources are telling me that the "Mahna Mahna" song was from a Swedish porno from the 60's





I"m just as dumbfounded as beaker. And if in fact this is a Swedish porn flick, that answers a lot of questions about why the Swedish Chef was on the show.

Here's the clip from the film...



Har Har

Saturday, September 14, 2013

Because we all miss Rock and Roll Confidential

“No, it’s cool Bethany, you just keep dancing and I’ll just keep looking for your fucking car keys.”

This had me laughing really hard. It does for indie bands what the Hall of Douchebags did for 90s and metal bands on RRC. 

Thursday, September 12, 2013

Monday, September 09, 2013

Nap Attack!



Any of you young trendsetters got one of these yet?

Friday, September 06, 2013

The Force Is Strong With This One...

As I recall, we have some bastards with connections to the Northwest. Perhaps they can explain how the sith lord could find the time to learn to play the flaming bagpipes and unicycle all while laying down the moves on Natalie Portman. And since when did he move to Portland...


  

It'll Melt Your Car

Wednesday, September 04, 2013

Okay

Gratuitous picture of Barbara Bach so I don't have to look at that frame from the labor video.

Monday, September 02, 2013

Labor Day



How are you celebrating labor today?  Cooking out, cold bevs?  Football game tonight, Joe?  Hope no one is actually laboring. 

Wednesday, August 28, 2013

Brainfinger!


Mind control is finally here. I'll have minions!

[no sound on this video]

God Bless the USA





Nothing says Amurica like a bald eagle flying in a church full of God-fearin' people chanting U-S-A U-S-A! Then it went wrong. I feel bad for bird though. Apparently he's ok. Is it just me or would this not be out of place in a Simpsons episode?

Monday, August 26, 2013

Ermagahd



They sound fucking awesome! Praise the Lawd!


Thursday, August 22, 2013

Massive Alan Lomax Field Recordings Archive Now Online

NPR says ...

Folklorist Alan Lomax spent his career documenting folk music traditions from around the world. Now thousands of the songs and interviews he recorded are available for free online, many for the first time. It's part of what Lomax envisioned for the collection — long before the age of the Internet.

Lomax recorded a staggering amount of folk music. He worked from the 1930s to the '90s, and traveled from the Deep South to the mountains of West Virginia, all the way to Europe, the Caribbean and Asia. When it came time to bring all of those hours of sound into the digital era, the people in charge of the Lomax archive weren't quite sure how to tackle the problem.

"We err on the side of doing the maximum amount possible," says Don Fleming, executive director of the Association for Cultural Equity, the nonprofit organization Lomax founded in New York in the '80s. Fleming and a small staff made up mostly of volunteers have digitized and posted some 17,000 sound recordings.

"For the first time, everything that we've digitized of Alan's field recording trips are online, on our website," says Fleming. "It's every take, all the way through. False takes, interviews, music."

The archive can be found here. I dipped my toe in and found this ...

"Come Out the Wildnerness," performed by Boyd Rivers and his wife Ruth May. Preceded by introduction of themselves and their music. Shot by Alan Lomax, John Bishop, and Worth Long, August 30, 1978, at the Rivers' home in Canton, Mississippi.

Wednesday, August 21, 2013

In The Not Too Distant Future

This was a graduation project for Bezalel Academy of Arts and Design.

Passage à l'acte By Martin Arnold

Wikipedia says:

Martin Arnold (born 1959 in Vienna, Austria) is an experimental filmmaker known for his obsessive reworkings of found footage. He is also a founding member of the Austrian film distributor Sixpack Film. Arnold studied psychology and art history at the University of Vienna. He has taught filmmaking at the University of Wisconsin–Milwaukee, the San Francisco Art Institute, the Academy of Fine Arts in Frankfurt, the Kansas City Art Institute, Bard College, and at SUNY Binghamton. His films are distributed by Canyon Cinema in the United States and by Sixpack Film in Austria.

Arnold's films are intensely cut sequences in which several seconds of found footage are taken and stretched out into much longer works. The figures on the screen flip back and forth between frames, as the motion is repeated, reversed, and numerous single frame cuts are made. His intent is to create, or possibly unearth, narratives concealed within the mundane films from which he samples. Passage à l'acte (1993) uses several seconds of the film To Kill a Mockingbird to create a bizarre story of aggression and tension within a traditional American family.

Martin Arnold is representative of the generations of artists making the transition between experimental film and video art. Pieces such as Passage à l'acte (1993) were composed on film, with Arnold writing an edit decision list (EDL) for a film editor, who then recreated the choppy and intense works from the found source material. In the mid-1990s, Arnold was given access to an Avid digital editing machine, which allowed him to work directly with the footage and cut it into the intensely repetitive sequences himself. His first digitally cut project, Alone: Life Wastes Andy Hardy (1998), made use of footage of Mickey Rooney's character Andy Hardy from the popular film series.

Friday, August 16, 2013

Friday!

I'm on the road for the third Friday in a row.

Wednesday, August 14, 2013

Records

Anybody listening to anything good?

Sunday, August 11, 2013

Let's review, 'cause, it's time to cook...

If you haven't been watching Breaking Bad, you're missing out. Former X-Files writer Vince Gilligan has put together one hell of a show. The final 8 episodes begin tonight on AMC. In case you've been watching Phish concerts online, watching cat videos on you tube, or hangin out at Rock ' Roll Snob in stead of watching Breaking Bad, here's a little synopsis to get you caught up...

AMC is running the first 8 episodes of season 5 prior to the new episode today. Yeah Bitch!

Thursday, August 08, 2013

We're All Going To This, Right?



Kinda slipped by me, somehow-- but I'm more jacked about this than about Super Star Trek Man Vs Pacific Iron Wolverine Man or whatever else I've missed this summer. I'll watch Matt Damon and Jodie Foster in just about anything, (anyone else love The Informant!?), and this film has District 9 bloodlines...

Sharktroversy...

Shark Week on the Discovery channel pretty much blows. Turns out they faked a whole show. Sensationalized bullshit. This from the network that has a show about fishing with vaginas. Did you hear what I said? Fishing. With. Vagina. Setting my DVR. On a more positive note, Nat Geo Wild is doing shark week right.

Wednesday, August 07, 2013

Tuesday, August 06, 2013

Enhancing Your Performance


A Bastardo on a questionable substance? Whoever heard of such a thing?!

I'm Back.



As you were.

Friday, August 02, 2013

Joe's On The Road, So ...

I'll take his Vintage Pinup Friday. Submitted for your approval, Lillian Parker (AKA Adrienne Stoute). Miss Parker was an innovator. If you Google her - and you should - you'll quickly notice that she was trimming the infield 40 years before that was an acceptable practice.

Bonus!

First X-Men: Days Of Future Past Teaser

Not coming out 'til next May, of course.

Sunday, July 28, 2013

Laterz...


...heading to the land of evergreens and apples - whence arose the poobah and the Right Reverend Dave - for a much needed Jaycation. Please keep the place respectable while I'm away.

Wednesday, July 24, 2013

Sure, Why Not

Exclusively Released on iTunes for 4 weeks only

The Rolling Stones are pleased to announce the exclusive iTunes release of 'The Rolling Stones - Hyde Park Live' album, following their two successful sold out concerts in London's Hyde Park on 6 and 13 July.

Highlights of both Rolling Stones concerts, which took place almost 44 years to the day since the Stones first played Hyde Park on 5 July 1969, is available to download from today exclusively from the iTunes Store (iTunes.com/TheRollingStones ) ensuring that concert-goers, and fans new and old, can re-live their memories and experiences of these historic hometown shows.

The two Hyde Park concerts saw Mick Jagger, Keith Richards, Charlie Watts and Ronnie Wood do what they do best: performing foot-stomping, crowd-pleasing sets packed full with hit singles and anthems including Brown Sugar, It's Only Rock'N' Roll, Jumpin' Jack Flash, Sympathy for the Devil and Paint It Black , all of which feature on the limited edition iTunes release. The Rolling Stones 'Hyde Park Live' is available exclusively on the iTunes Store through August 19.

TRACKLISTING
1: Start Me Up
2: It's Only Rock 'N' Roll
3: Tumbling Dice
4: Emotional Rescue
5: Street Fighting Man
6: Ruby Tuesday
7: Doom And Gloom
8: Paint It Black
9: Honky Tonk Women
10: You Got The Silver
11: Before They Make Me Run
12: Miss You
13: Midnight Rambler
14: Gimme Shelter
15: Jumpin' Jack Flash
16: Sympathy For The Devil
17: Brown Sugar
18: You Can't Always Get What You Want
19: (I Can't Get No) Satisfaction

Fortuitous Timing, Perhaps?

Car Crash While Hitchhiking

A salesman who shared his liquor and steered while sleeping... A Cherokee filled with bourbon... A VW no more than a bubble of hashish fumes, captained by a college student...

And a family from Marshalltown who head-onned and killed forever a man driving west out of Bethany, Missouri...

...I rose up sopping wet from sleeping under the pouring rain, and something less than con­scious, thanks to the first three of the people I've already named—the salesman and the Indian and the student—all of whom had given me drugs. At the head of the entrance ramp I waited without hope of a ride. What was the point, even, of rolling up my sleeping bag when I was too wet to be let into anybody's car? I draped it around me like a cape. The downpour raked the asphalt and gurgled in the ruts. My thoughts zoomed pitifully. The travelling salesman had fed me pills that made the linings of my veins feel scraped out. My jaw ached. I knew every raindrop by its name. I sensed everything before it happened. I knew a certain Oldsmobile would stop for me even before it glowed, and by the sweet voices of the family inside it I knew we'd have an accident in the storm.

I didn't care. They said they'd take me all the way.

The man and the wife put the little girl up front with them and left the baby in back with me and my dripping bedroll. "I'm not taking you any­where very fast," the man said. "I've got my wife and babies here, that's why."

You are the ones, I thought. And I piled my sleeping bag against the left-hand door and slept across it, not caring whether I lived or died. The baby slept free on the seat beside me. He was about nine months old.

...But before any of this, that afternoon, the salesman and I had swept down into Kansas City in his luxury car. We'd developed a dangerous cynical camaraderie beginning in Texas, where he'd taken me on. We ate up his bottle of amphetamines, and every so often we pulled off the Interstate and bought another pint of Canadian Club and a sack of ice. His car had cylindrical glass holders attached to either door and a white, leathery interior. He said he'd take me home to stay overnight with his family, but first he wanted to stop and see a woman he knew.

Under Midwestern clouds like great grey brains we left the superhighway with a drifting sensation and entered Kansas City's rush hour with a sensation of running aground. As soon as we slowed down, all the magic of travelling to­gether burned away. He went on and on about his girlfriend. "I like this girl, I think I love this girl—but I've got two kids and a wife, and there's certain obligations there. And on top of every­thing else, I love my wife. I'm gifted with love. I love my kids. I love all my relatives." As he kept on, I felt jilted and sad: "I have a boat, a little sixteen-footer. I have two cars. There's room in the back yard for a swimming pool." He found his girlfriend at work. She ran a furniture store, and I lost him there.

The clouds stayed the same until night. Then, in the dark, I didn't see the storm gathering. The driver of the Volkswagen, a college man, the one who stoked my head with all the hashish, let me out beyond the city limits just as it began to rain. Never mind the speed I'd been taking, I was too overcome to stand up. I lay out in the grass off the exit ramp and woke in the middle of a puddle that had filled up around me.

And later, as I've said, I slept in the back seat while the Oldsmobile—the family from Mar­shalltown—splashed along through the rain. And yet I dreamed I was looking right through my eyelids, and my pulse marked off the seconds of time. The Interstate through western Missouri was, in that era, nothing more than a two-way road, most of it. When a semi truck came toward us and passed going the other way, we were lost in a blinding spray and a warfare of noises such as you get being towed through an automatic car wash. The wipers stood up and lay down across the windshield without much effect. I was ex­hausted, and after an hour I slept more deeply.

I'd known all along exactly what was going to happen. But the man and his wife woke me up later, denying it viciously.

"Oh—no!"

"NO!"

I was thrown against the back of their seat so hard that it broke. I commenced bouncing back and forth. A liquid which I knew right away was human blood flew around the car and rained down on my head. When it was over I was in the back seat again, just as I had been. I rose up and looked around. Our headlights had gone out. The radiator was hissing steadily. Beyond that, I didn't hear a thing. As far as I could tell, I was the only one conscious. As my eyes adjusted I saw that the baby was lying on its back beside me as if nothing had happened. Its eyes were open and it was feeling its cheeks with its little hands.

In a minute the driver, who'd been slumped over the wheel, sat up and peered at us. His face was smashed and dark with blood. It made my teeth hurt to look at him—but when he spoke, it didn't sound as if any of his teeth were broken.

"What happened?"

"We had a wreck," he said.

"The baby's okay," I said, although I had no idea how the baby was.

He turned to his wife.

"Janice," he said. "Janice, Janice!"

"Is she okay?"

"She's dead!" he said, shaking her angrily.

"No, she's not." I was ready to deny everything myself now.

Their little girl was alive, but knocked out. She whimpered in her sleep. But the man went on shaking his wife.

"Janice!" he hollered.

His wife moaned.

"She's not dead," I said, clambering from the car and running away.

"She won't wake up," I heard him say.

I was standing out here in the night, with the baby, for some reason, in my arms. It must have still been raining, but I remember nothing about the weather. We'd collided with another car on what I now perceived was a two-lane bridge. The water beneath us was invisible in the dark.

Moving toward the other car I began to hear rasping, metallic snores. Somebody was flung halfway out the passenger door, which was open, in the posture of one hanging from a trapeze by his ankles. The car had been broadsided, smashed so flat that no room was left inside it even for this person's legs, to say nothing of a driver or any other passengers. I just walked right on past.

Headlights were coming from far off. I made for the head of the bridge, waving them to a stop with one arm and clutching the baby to my shoul­der with the other.

It was a big semi, grinding its gears as it de­celerated. The driver rolled down his window and I shouted up at him, "There's a wreck. Go for help."

"I can't turn around here," he said.

He let me and the baby up on the passenger side, and we just sat there in the cab, looking at the wreckage in his headlights.

"Is everybody dead?" he asked.

"I can't tell who is and who isn't," I admitted.

He poured himself a cup of coffee from a ther­mos and switched off all but his parking lights.

"What time is it?"

"Oh, it's around quarter after three," he said.

By his manner he seemed to endorse the idea of not doing anything about this. I was relieved and tearful. I'd thought something was required of me, but I hadn't wanted to find out what it was.

When another car showed coming in the op­posite direction, I thought I should talk to them. "Can you keep the baby?" I asked the truck driver.

"You'd better hang on to him," the driver said. "It's a boy, isn't it?"

"Well, I think so," I said.

The man hanging out of the wrecked car was still alive as I passed, and I stopped, grown a little more used to the idea now of how really badly broken he was, and made sure there was nothing I could do. He was snoring loudly and rudely. His blood bubbled out of his mouth with every breath. He wouldn't be taking many more. I knew that, but he didn't, and therefore I looked down into the great pity of a person's life on this earth. I don't mean that we all end up dead, that's not the great pity. I mean that he couldn't tell me what he was dreaming, and I couldn't tell him what was real.

Before too long there were cars backed up for a ways at either end of the bridge, and headlights giving a night-game atmosphere to the steaming rubble, and ambulances and cop cars nudging through so that the air pulsed with color. I didn't talk to anyone. My secret was that in this short while I had gone from being the president of this tragedy to being a faceless onlooker at a gory wreck. At some point an officer learned that I was one of the passengers, and took my state­ment. I don't remember any of this, except that he told me, "Put out your cigarette." We paused in our conversation to watch the dying man being loaded into the ambulance. He was still alive, still dreaming obscenely. The blood ran off him in strings. His knees jerked and his head rat­tled.

There was nothing wrong with me, and I hadn't seen anything, but the policeman had to question me and take me to the hospital anyway. The word came over his car radio that the man was now dead, just as we came under the awning of the emergency-room entrance.

I stood in a tiled corridor with my wet sleeping bag bunched against the wall beside me, talking to a man from the local funeral home.

The doctor stopped to tell me I'd better have an X-ray.

"No."

"Now would be the time. If something turns up later ..."

"There's nothing wrong with me."

Down the hall came the wife. She was glorious, burning. She didn't know yet that her husband was dead. We knew. That's what gave her such power over us. The doctor took her into a room with a desk at the end of the hall, and from under the closed door a slab of brilliance radiated as if, by some stupendous process, diamonds were being incinerated in there. What a pair of lungs! She shrieked as I imagined an eagle would shriek. It felt wonderful to be alive to hear it! I've gone looking for that feeling everywhere.

"There's nothing wrong with me"—I'm sur­prised I let those words out. But it's always been my tendency to lie to doctors, as if good health consisted only of the ability to fool them.

Some years later, one time when I was admitted to the Detox at Seattle General Hospital, I took the same tack.
"Are you hearing unusual sounds or voices?" the doctor asked.

"Help us, oh God, it hurts," the boxes of cot­ton screamed.

"Not exactly," I said.

"Not exactly," he said. "Now, what does that mean."

"I'm not ready to go into all that," I said. A yellow bird fluttered close to my face, and my muscles grabbed. Now I was flopping like a fish. When I squeezed shut my eyes, hot tears ex­ploded from the sockets. When I opened them, I was on my stomach.

"How did the room get so white?" I asked.

A beautiful nurse was touching my skin. "These are vitamins," she said, and drove the needle in.

It was raining. Gigantic ferns leaned over us. The forest drifted down a hill. I could hear a creek rushing down among rocks. And you, you ridiculous people, you expect me to help you.

Butt Hurt



Apparently this is modern medicine in Tennessee.

Tuesday, July 23, 2013

Goddamn Morrissey

Pulled in its entirety from The A.V. Club (because it's hilarious) ...

Morrissey has cancelled his upcoming South American tour, citing a lock of proper funding. The mope rock singer posted an open letter lamenting the tour’s tanking and the state of his life in general, saying, like only Morrissey can:

“In a year when far too many disappointments have been buried this really is the last of many final straws, and I am not alone in feeling this. The future is suddenly absent, and my apologies are now so frequent as to be somewhat ridiculous, and it is I who apologize because no one else would bother. It is agonizing to be responsible for imparting such news - especially when it springs upon me unexpectedly and inexplicably. But the collapse of South America rings the curtain down with a colossal thud, and the major problems remain as insoluble now as they were in 2009. The obvious conclusion stares back at me from the mirror, and the wheels are finally off the covered wagon. Cancellations and illness have sucked the life out of all of us, and the only sensible solution seems to be the art of doing nothing.”

The singer ends his by saying, “I shall see you in my dreams,” whatever that means. If you see Morrissey, give him a hug.

Friday, July 19, 2013

Thursday, July 18, 2013

Happy Birthday Matt!



I signed Dave up for a root canal (with song!)

Friday, July 12, 2013

Tastefully Nude Friday

"America is maybe the most unhealthy nation in the world because they live on crap,” Player said. “They’ve got the best food in the world, the best farmers and the best food but they live on crap. When [British chef] Jamie Oliver went to America he went to areas where children never had cabbage or broccoli or spinach or vegetables in their life. People giving their children a soft drink and a doughnut to go to school. No wonder academically they’re affected."
77 year old South African golfer Gary Player is lettin' us have it! I think the crystal meth keeps Joe and Dave pretty lean, but the rest of us have to work for it. What's your summer workout regimen?

Sunday, July 07, 2013

I submit...















I know you name-checked the 'Mats in your post, Dave, but I just want to point out my admiration for Mr. Stinson's solo and band work (Bash 'n Pop, Perfect) outside of those other big bands. Some honkers, but every album he's done has had at least 2 or 3 perfect songs.

Thursday, July 04, 2013

New Series: Artists We Love (?): Springsteen

New series: post an artist and everyone else weighs in with their relative love/disdain for said artist. Our feelings on Dylan, the Replacements, Morrissey, and others are well documented. Let's try some more. Rate the artist on your personal scale of 1-10 and explain why they merit that position. Overrated? Underrated? Let's get some musical dialog going people! I'll start.

I didn't like Springsteen at the height of his 80s popularity. Not enough shredding solos or punk rock aggression for me. He seemed like old people music when I was 18. To me, lyrical depth was exemplified by Roger Waters, not Bruce Springsteen. At some point in the mid 90s, that began to change.

I picked up Nebraska in a bargain bin somewhere and suddenly figured this guy out. I think I had to be older to understand some of the stories and some of the characters. I worked back to The River and Darkness on the Edge of Town and those three remain my favorites although I am a huge fan of his post 2000 work as well. I have a lot of time for The Rising and Magic especially. As I get older, longevity in the business becomes more and more admirable to me. If you're skeptical of The Boss' songwriting prowess, I highly recommend The Promise, a double album set of outtakes from the Darkness sessions. He's got some serious Motown and Tin Pan Alley chops.

If you'd like to hear anything you don't have For The Posterity of it, let me know. I think I've got most all of it save one or two 90s efforts.

Scale: 9/10

Wednesday, July 03, 2013

Nothing Can Hurt Me II: Spanking For Jebus


"You don’t have to be a Christian to practice domestic discipline, although many of its practitioners say they believe that domestic discipline goes hand in hand with their faith. Specifics of the practice vary by couple, though CDDers all seem to follow a few basic principles. Foremost, that the Bible commands a husband to be the head of the household, and the wife must submit to him, in every way, or face painful chastisement.

From an article I read recently.

Joe, as Special Bastard Liaison to the Pope, where do you stand on this? Should Bachelor Dave bring it up with his fiancé?

Nothing Can Hurt Me

Available on iTunes starting TODAY.

Trouble for Morrissey in Egypt





I haven't been following the news all that closely, but I keep hearing that the Egyptians are having all these protests against Morrissey.  Enormous crowds, people have been hurt and even killed.  To our Egyptian followers, I say, "Hey look, I don't like the guy either, but enough's enough already.  It's just not worth all this."  

Friday, June 28, 2013

We got in trouble at the Vatican

The trip with our students was pretty awesome and fairly hassle free (excepting one emergency room visit, a minor jellyfish sting, stomachs having bad reactions to foreign food, and an embarrassing trip I had to make to a pharmacy to buy feminine supplies). Above is my portion of the group. We saw the Prado and Royal Palace in Madrid (where I found awesome pints for one euro), the beach, Parc Guell, Sagrada Familia and Las Rambla in Barcelona, took an overnight ship journey across to Rome, and while there saw the Coliseum, Forum, Pantheon, Trevi Fountain, etc. At the Vatican some of our group got fussed at and our tour guide was fined because some kids sat on the steps outside the Sistine Chapel. Hopefully the Pope was not personally notified. To be honest, I could have stayed a few more days. If you so desire, you can check out all the pics on FB, which is a social networking sight some of you may have heard of. Cue Chuck Berry's 'Back in the USA'...

Wednesday, June 26, 2013

Tuesday, June 25, 2013

Thursday, June 20, 2013

Monday, June 17, 2013

Late to the party

I gather these have been out there on the interwebs for a while, but better late than never if you haven't seen them.  The badmotherfucker video is quite remarkable.

http://vimeo.com/user5393374/badmotherfucker

http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=BKQ6nINAeq8

Sharing The Love

My recent acquisition of a Record Store Day copy of the Big Star: Nothing Can Hurt Me soundtrack came with a Dropcard code. Feel The Power of Big Star's pop I say. Feel it!

The Ugly American

I'm off to Europe with 35 teenagers. It's been nice. See you in the next life.

Thursday, June 13, 2013

The Making Of The Shining

The most important post in our history

We've used this space to announce births, celebrations, and achievements. But now this has happened. 'Nuff said. Except there's also this.

Tuesday, June 11, 2013

Yup

“When you’re twenty-one, life is a roadmap. It’s only when you get to be twenty-five or so that you begin to suspect you’ve been looking at the map upside down, and not until you’re forty are you entirely sure. By the time you’re sixty, take it from me, you’re fucking lost.”

- Stephen King, Joyland

Tommy Speaks

Incredible interview with Tommy on podcast here. Stop what you're doing and listen. Now.

Friday, June 07, 2013

What is this an ad for?



This played on network TV during prime time last night.

Tuesday, June 04, 2013

¡Feliz Cumpleaños El Dave!


Happy Birthday to you
Happy Birthday to you
You're oooooooooold, bastard
Happy Birthday to you

Monday, June 03, 2013

Trouble Will Find Me

Feeling happy?  Let the National help you Find The Pain to get through the day.  Don't like the National?  Go fuck youself.  

Thursday, May 30, 2013

Jay, How's Your Meat?



Anyone else ready for IN VITRO BURGERS this summer? Dave which beer goes best with that?

Friday, May 24, 2013

Let's Be Safe Out There


Happy Memorial Day Weekend bastards! And a fond bye to The Office.

Also it's Bob Dylan's Birthday, a high holy day around these parts. Everyone speaks in an adenoidal whine today. No exceptions.

Thursday, May 23, 2013

Sweet Sweet Sacrilege



From Patton Oswalt's Star Wars filibuster on Parks and Rec.

Wednesday, May 22, 2013

A blast from the grungy past



UPDATE: The tracks have now been remastered and are in a folder called 'Bowling Shoes'. They sound much better sonically (no background noise; clearer bass and vox).

Cast your minds back to 1991: We were young, wild, and free. Except for Lurker who was already a tax adjuster for the municipality and Matt who was seeing 'Little Shop of Horrors' for the fifteenth time and dreaming of becoming a dentist. But I digress.

In the wilds of the Inland Empire, four lads gathered at Wagner recording studios in Spokane to record the follow up to their local hit album Andy's Warehouse. During the year or two since that jangly influenced album, the musical landscape had altered. While Nevermind had not yet been unleashed on the public, the sounds from Seattle were definitely influencing these fellows. They released a single from this session which charted in the top twenty in Seattle's premier music rag The Rocket for several weeks. Anticipation for the album ran high...and then nothing happened.

Internal acrimony and all the usual tired rock and roll cliches split the group up and the album that was recorded remained unreleased. In fact, only one shitty cassette tape was known to be in existence for the past 20+ years. Guitarist Jamie Frost unearthed the master tapes one day and took them to a friend with a vintage analog recording studio. He had the weird console required to play these antiquated tapes and convert them to digital glory. For Those Partner Bastards who are interested, see what all the fuss was about. The drums are amazing.


Shit

Trevor Bolder, bassist and Spider From Mars, dead at 62. The Big C.

Monday, May 13, 2013

Greenboy: Prescription for Death

This surreal lost Dragnet episode was made by Frank Conniff of Mystery Science Theater and former Mr Show and Chris Rock Show writer Mike Upchurch as a presentation pilot for Adult Swim. They’ve digitally inserted popular alt-comedians into the 1967 cop show Dragnet, and turned it into a story about bad cops trying to eradicate a powerful strain of medical marijuana. It’s technically stunning, exceeding Forrest Gump and Dead Men Don’t Wear Plaid in both ambition and outcome, while being produced in a living room for only $200.00.

Friday, May 10, 2013

Into Darkness


Paramount’s bid to draw in more foreign ticket buyers even extended to casting decisions and the script, which turns on a more terrestrial story. "Into Darkness" finds the Enterprise crew called back home, where a terror force has infiltrated the Starfleet organization.
"The team has really been in the weeds, so to speak, going country by country and looking at every possible opportunity," Brad Grey, Paramount’s chairman, said of the studio’s marketers in particular. "On a profit level, focusing on your shareholders, this is now how detailed you have to be on pictures of this scope and scale."
Praise be. I was beginning to worry that all my films weren't focus-tested in Asian markets.

Tuesday, May 07, 2013

Shit

Visual effects legend Ray Harryhausen.

Bastard Field Trip!

It's the event Joe's been waiting for his entire life: the ABBA Museum is finally OPEN.

And before you laugh, just remember that members of both Elvis Costello & The Attractions and The Sex Pistols have admitted to ripping them off.

Monday, May 06, 2013

Oh Hi Mark

The Room is widely regarded as one of the worst films ever made. (See above clip for proof.) Now, one of the actors, Greg Sestero, has written a book about the experience. The Disaster Artist: My Life Inside The Room, The Greatest Bad Movie Ever Made won't be out until October, but boy, does is sound like a fun read.

Saturday, May 04, 2013

Happy Star Wars Day!


May The Fourth Be With You. Try not to think of poor plot and casting possibilities for Star Wars VII: A Bastard's World.