Huh?

This site is going on life support, while I figure out what I really want to do with it.

In the meantime, I'll be posting stuff over at Chicago Boyz.

Sweet Adeline

Cut this picture into you and me
Burn it backwards kill this history
Make it over make it stay away
Or hate’ll say the ending that love started to stay
There’s a kid a floor below me saying brother can you spare
Sunshine for a brother old man winter’s in the air
Walked me up a story asking how you are
Told me not to worry you were just a shooting star
Sweet adeline
Sweet adeline
My clementine
Sweet adeline
It’s a picture perfect evening and I’m staring down the sun
Fully loaded deaf and dumb and done
Waiting for sedation to disconnect my head
Or any situation where I’m better off then dead

Sad news for lovers of good music everywhere. The kid sister sent me an email today containing bad tidings. Singer, songwriter, and, in my opinion, musical genius, Elliott Smith, is dead. Apparently, he committed suicide by plunging a knife into his chest.

I’m not one to get all emotional over entertainers I’ve never even met, but every album Smith was involved in, either as a solo artist, or as a member of his earlier band, Portland-based Heatmiser, was pure gold. I greedily bought every album he put out, and then proceeded to repeatedly listen to them until those around me cursed his name.

Since his last album, Figure 8, I have been patiently waiting for any new releases, checking the S section of my local record store, just in case I missed an announcement on the web. Now there will be no more releases. No more announcements.

Elliott Smith was all of 34 years old.

You look like a monkey, and you smell like one too...

Ya, ya , ya. I know. Almost a whole month without a post. I suck. The spirit is willing, but the fingers are weak.

Anyways, yesterday (the 16th) was my birthday. I’m now officially a quarter century old.

Rejoice.

Traitor... Or Just A Schmuck?

Much has been made about the following Howard Dean quote during the dem debate:

We need to remember that the enemy here is George Bush...

This has been used by right leaners, from Joe Scarborough to the New York Post, to show that Howard Dean is a vicious traitor, who views Bush as a greater enemy than Osama Bin Laden.

Of course, context is everything, and the full quote is:

We need to remember that the enemy here is George Bush, not each other. (emphasis mine)

Now, I have no great love of Dr. Dean (quite the opposite in fact) but it's clear, to me at least, that Dean, in this case at least, was not directly attacking the president in any sense related to foreign policy or national security. He was responding to attacks likening him to Newt Gingrich, a figure akin to Hitler by the Democratic faithful.

His "Enemy" quote was quite obviously a political metaphor. Bush is the democrat's political enemy. That's a simple fact. Republicans or others who use this as proof of Dean's Treachery against the good ol' USA are using tactics no better than the filthy, out of context, language-rape-partisanship of Maureen Dowd. And is that where you want to be guys? Well, is it?

What's really amusing about Dean’s denial of Republican affinities, is that he was using the same accusations against the other dems mere months ago, with his "Democratic wing" crap. Hypocrisy, not treachery, is Dean’s greatest sin.

It seems the inevitable childlike refrain, "I’m a real democrat, and you’re not," shall soon completely consume the democratic debate, as they make a mad dash to placate their leftist base. Much to the amusement of their enemies. Mwuhahahaha!

Also, Wesley Clark is a big giant dweeb. And Ian has long been thinking of Clark's chances of becoming #10 we'll see about his further predictions...

Oy Vey...

Ladies and gentlemen, I present for your amusement and education, direct from my inbox, poorly conceived penis enlargement spam:

I have now lost whatever faith I once had in humanity...

Hypocritical Fucking Yuppies

Yes, friends, the people of Seattle have finally seen a tax they didn’t like. I know, I can’t believe it either.

I’m sure you’ve heard about I-77, whether you live in the northwest or not. It’s the 10 cent tax on coffee. Yes, a sin tax on coffee in the home-town of Starbucks.

The beneficiaries of this tax? Why, “The Children” of course. In fact, the slogan in the Yes campaign’s ads, as I remember it, was “Seattle loves Coffee. Seattle Loves children. Vote yes on I-77.”

From the preliminary results, it looks like its losing by a 2-1 margin. Seattle apparently loves its caffeine more than little Billy and the rest of the kids. What a bunch o heartless Republican bastards!

Oh, wait, these are the same bleeding hearts who are so happy to tax every other staple possible, such as beer or cigarettes (which, you know, are enjoyed by all those dirty people). But yet they won’t spend 10 simple cents per cup of coffee for the children! The irony is delicious.

At least a third of the tax-monkeys are consistent in their evil taxation preferences…

Walkin’ The Line

I’m not one to usually care when a celebrity bites it. Hell, I’m usually rooting for disease and accident to thin the ranks of the entertainment world’s cadaverous communist geezer class. Because, deep down, I’m not a very nice person, I tend to chuckle at news of washed up old codgers’ passing.

However, sometimes there’s an entertainer with real talent, someone worthy of praise and celebration. A character who should be fondly remembered by one and all. Johnny Cash was such a person. He was an icon -- a true stand-out of twentieth century culture.

For a lot of kids my age, growing up long after Cash’s mass-popularity had ended, discovering the Man In Black was a rare late-adolescent treat (discovered hand-in-hand with alcohol, nicotine, and fast women, of course). He kept producing quality music all through his life, from his early days during the heyday of rockabilly at Sun records, to the Rick Rubin produced American recordings in his twilight.

His cover of Nine Inch Nail's Hurt just won an MTV Video award for cinemetography, and it should have won all six it was nominated for (despite the opinion of some silly young Goth punks). It stands as cash’s wrenching goodbye to the world.

The man will be missed by all who love good music.

(For more coherent tributes, see the Blogcritics roundup)

The Mythical Significance Of The Number 194

After slightly more than six months encamped in a desolate Unnamed Middle Eastern Country doing god knows what, our favorite Naval Officer / rabid Mac-boy / Cheesecake Enthusiast, Kevin, will be returning home to the good ol’ US of A in but a few short days.

And if he can hurry up and get that Paypal link up, he’s almost certain to have mounds of cash magically appear in his emergency “six-months-in-a-Muslim-country-time-to-get-hammered” fund...

Not Dead. Really.

Between long-term drinking binges (a week of vacation with nothing to do does interesting things to a man's alcohol consumption) and miscellanious work related stuff, I've been kept away for the better part of a month. However, I'm starting to feel that deep blogging desire coming on...

...or maybe that's just gas.

We'll see over the next few days, I guess.

Ahh, Califonia...

Arnahld is in, to everyone and no one's surprise. Expect pictures alleging Schwarzenegger’s steroid use and gay porn roles to mysteriously emerge from the vicinity of Sacramento.

But Arnie is small potatoes, compared to another political giant announcing his candidacy:

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce you to the next governor of the great state of California, former child star and current freaky midget, Gary Coleman.

“What you talkin’ ‘bout, Gray Davis?”

He’s gonna beat the pants off of convicted fruit murderer, Leo Gallagher. I mean, the destroyer of webster can't possibly be beaten!

This’ll be fun as hell to watch, but I praise Buddha I don’t live there.

May god have mercy on their souls.