Kablammo!

Before I begin in earnest, I’d like to quote somebody, if I may:

The cause of America is, in a great measure, the cause of all mankind. Many circumstances have, and will arise, which are not local, but universal, and through which the principles of all lovers of mankind are affected, and in the event of which, their affections are interested. The laying a country desolate with fire and sword, declaring war against the natural rights of all mankind, and extirpating the defenders thereof from the face of the earth, is the concern of every man to whom nature hath given the power of feeling; of which class, regardless of party censure, is

The author.

The author, of course, is Thomas Paine, and the passage above is from the introduction to Common Sense. I can’t help feeling that his writing is just as relevant today as it was on Valentine’s Day, 1776. Back when he was inciting insurgents into insurrection against their imperial overlords, America was the underdog. Have we lost our way?

Perhaps, but that’s not really what I feel like writing about right now. What I do feel like writing about is the asshole who rear-ended me on I-95 earlier today. I don’t wanna say whiplash just yet, cuz that’s a little too far, but good thing he was insured. For what it’s worth, I’ve now been involved in the fucking up of both the front and the rear of my mother’s automobile. God damnit.

So anyway, the day after we missed the first half of the Violent Femmes concert in DC, they played a free show at Baltimore’s annual Artscape festival thingy. So it was all good, and I even managed to record 80 minutes worth of their show on Saturday. I ran out of space before they got to the encore and rocked out with “Kiss Off”, but it’s all good.

Speaking of which, Spitesto turned out fairly anticlimactic, tho it was still well worth attending.

Song of the Moment: «Me and Jesus Don’t Talk Anymore» — Beulah

For one thing, it seems I’ve now taken and passed enough courses that I’ve satisfied Cooper‘s credit requirements for a Bachelor of Mechanical Engineering. Now I just have to make sure the Office of Admissions and Records becomes aware of that fact, so I can get a stupid-looking, poorly designed piece of paper attesting to it. I can then use that piece of paper to replace the one saying ‘hey you still owe us some classes motherfucker’ that’s currently in the diplomaholder I got at commencement.

In other news, however, I was at CBGB (& Omfug) tonight, watching Shamra playing their set, when I made some interesting observations about this week in music. Well, this week in music as it affects me.

See, last Saturday I saw Suspyre, a “progressive metal / neo-classical” band, playing at Red Rock, a showcase of local bands playing in the firehouse of some shitty Podunk village in Hunterdon County. Tonight, as mentioned above, I saw a rock-type band with an album playing at a highly respectable club. This Friday, God willing, I’ll be seeing the Violent Femmes, a platinum-selling (and minimalistic) group, playing at the 9:30 Club, an ‘actual’ venue.

It’ll be interesting to compare the trends in recognition and sound for these bands. Last weekend I saw some guys playing basically for their family and friends, and the family and friends of the guys in the other bands. These guys also happened to be completely electrified, their two guitarists trying to outduel each other in the most flamboyantly homoerotic ways possible, and their drummer whacking his choice of about 15 different cymbals he had set up as part of his kit. Tonight I saw a band playing for their friends, acquaintances, and fans, as well as for the kind of people who go to well-respected rock’n’roll clubs on a Tuesday night. For every Telecaster or other electric guitar they used, they had 1.5 acoustic guitars in use (note: there was only one electric guitar), and the drummer had a pretty standard drumset set up. Next weekend, I’ll see some guys playing for a bunch of fans, some of them casual, some of them rabid, some of them younger than the band’s first singles. The band themselves? Three guys, three drums, acoustic bass. What more could you ask for?

PS. Happy Bastille Day.

Song of the Moment: «Cop Killer» — Body Count

You’d think I’d have learned my lesson from last fall, or any number of other semesters or other academic terms. I guess not. Anyway, there’s still a chance I’ll be done with this infernal tedium forever.

In other news, I had a contact lens in my left eye until quite recently. I didn’t take it out and it didn’t fall out, but there is now no sign of it at all. I’m kind of freaked out.

Also: what the fuck is up with this? Hooray for excesses of copyrighting and DRM.

Song of the Moment: «(Wish I Could Fly Like) Superman» — The Kinks

Why is it that whenever I eat an ice pop I get an uncontrollable urge to cough?

Song of the Moment: this as-yet-unnamed song

Nothing to read here.

Song of the Moment: «Clark Gable» — The Postal Service

So I hit a fucking deer tonight on my way home from school. It left a nice fucking dent in the hood of my mother’s car, too.

Perhaps this will be followed up by stuff pertaining to what’s happened in the past few weeks, but perhaps not.

An interesting enough week-end, I suppose. While growing ever more inured to the actions of denizens of the internet’s dankest and most luxurious corners, I met a minor celebrity and realized why he’s universally reviled. Also, I got a bunch of kids drunk after showing off my Manhattan skillz.

Then I learned that, if given a choice between escorting people through a sudden drenching downpour or ducking into a local music store open until all hours of the night, I’d much rather buy a copy of Franz Ferdinand’s Franz Ferdinand than interact with other human beings. I can’t say I’m surprised by that turn of events.

Today, as luck had it, the Pistons played the Nets. I happened to be at the Meadowlands to see the whole thing, since I made the decision last week to go on eBay while drunk. I’m thankful for the fact that I really didn’t spend all that much money on the tickets I bought, especially considering that I got them for less than face value. Also, they were nosebleed seats but positioned such that we got a beautiful view of the court. All in all, the tickets were not worth complaining about in the least. The gameplay, of course, left something to be desired. I wouldn’t say the Pistons won so much as the Nets lost. Of the game’s 48 minutes, New Jersey was actually playing for maybe 10. The rest of the time, they were taking the most ill-advised shots I’ve ever seen, letting Detroit get all the rebounds they wanted, and generally playing some very sloppy basketball. If the Pistons hadn’t been playing almost as poorly, they would have won by 30 instead of nearly letting the game go to overtime. I really fucking hope Larry Brown chewed them out for coming so close to losing the series for no good reason. Of course, I also hope that the Nets manage to win game 7, but whatever.

Also, David Bowie’s “Andy Warhol” is borne a striking resemblance to by Metallica’s “Master of Puppets”. Proof is here. Both are very good songs. Go and listen to both of them. And then listen to The Unicorns for a bit.

Tonight I get to drink all the free Guinness I can stomach. Excellent.

Song of the Moment: «Jellybones» — The Unicorns

So I met David Cross today while I was waiting for my order at Crif Dogs. I told him that I loved his work on Aqua Teen Hunger Force. Jigglebilly is good stuff.

And that’s basically the end of the story.

However, tonight I go watch Monty Python’s The Life of Brian in an actual movie theater. What a crazy city this New York is.

Song of the Moment: «12 Apinaa» — Nylon Beat

I wish I were asleep right now. Really, I do.

Six hours ago I went to sleep after my last day of schoolwork at Cooper kept me awake for 32 hours or thereabouts. Then I woke up. It’s kind of funny that I’m capable of sleeping 12 or 16 hours in one go unless I really need to. As it is, I can tell you that waking up exhausted is not very fun.

Of course, on the plus side, nearly all of my obligations for school are met now, so I can relax a bit, maybe. I still need to do some very very important things, however, so

Fuck it, I got sick of writing this. Just remember that McSorley’s cheese platters are the best food in the world.

Song of the Moment: «Fade to Black» — Fade to Bluegrass

In honor of me doing some of the last procrastinating I’ll ever do at Cooper, it’s time, once again, for an idiotlist.

• “It is implicit in the US administration’s position that anyone who does not agree that all of history has been moving towards a glorious pinnacle expressed in the US political, ideological and economic system has ‘rejected modernity’; that it is America’s mission to civilise and to punish.”
• Remind me to continue to refrain from calling people ‘old tarts‘ in my email correspondence.
• “It was wrong because it violated the very values and rule of law for which America was supposedly fighting, and soon produced evidence of double standards… It has been disastrous for America’s reputation because of that hypocrisy but also because it has become a symbol of a ‘we’ll decide’ arrogance.”
• Thanks a lot for running this article, New York Times. I hope you’re happy I couldn’t attend because your article singlehandedly pushed the demand for this event to the level of ‘preposterous’. Bastards, now I’ll never get to see Sam Waterston reciting Lincoln.
• Not only can Peeter Kopvillem write a damn good song, he can write a damn good essay as well.

Yeah.

Song of the Moment: «Fade to Black» — Metallica