Flip the track, bring the old school back.

I think it's time for a "Whassup?!" revival. I'm just sayin'.

Living it up while we're going down.

If there's anything funnier than a pile of wheelchair-bound senior citizens stuck in a glass elevator, I don't wanna know about it.

Finally, something I can be proud of.

Alright! After hyping their shit for some time, I've finally contributed to the Black Table's Black List.

For the record, I'm the guy who wrote about rubbing it out at work.

God bless the postal service.

And I'm talking about Canada Post, not faggy emotronica bands. Props due not only for prompt delivery of a package that was sent on Tuesday, but for the safe arrival of the illicit narcotics contained therein. Sometimes this country is A-OK.

In brief

British Sea Power does put on a scorching show, even though the singer's voice sounds a lil' too close to Bowie for my comfort. Super Furry Animals were off the fucking hook. Mad respect for a band that would segue from a full on rock song into a techno breakdown, leave the stage and return 10 minutes later dressed in their trademark fucking Yeti costumes to kick out the jams. So good, they'll put a new hole in your ass.

Giving it up.

I can't remember where I ripped this from, but after five booze and cannabis fueled days away from home, I reckon now's a good time to reflect on the merits of teetotaling.

Life after Sex

MSNBC asks how "Sex and the City" should close out its run. Since neither "a hail of bullets" or "pirahanas" figured prominently in the choices, I refrained from delving any deeper.

Meanwhile, Bunsen plays the SATC spoiler. No, really.

What's not funny about 9-11 jokes. anyway?

More fallout from Conan Quebecois routine.

Somebody get this country a sense of humour, stat. The whole Quebec seperatism thing is just so 1993. Fucking babies.

Soon to be blasting from an SUV near you.

Norah Jones moves 1 million copies of new album.

I don't care to speculate on what this might mean for a music industry plagued by sagging sales and internet piracy, except for the distinct possibility that we can expect an onslaught of watered down Jones clones over the next 10 months, accompanied by aggressive, "grown-up" oriented marketing campaigns.

I would, though, just like to ask: who are these fuckers that buy these records and what do they have against music?

Dope is for dopes, man.

Unintentionally hilarious, "hip" anti-pot web site.

I laughed quite hard at the section on teen sex and drugs. However, it should be noted that I was quite high at the time.

Stop this before it starts.

Key-tars: no no no.

See? It is a gateway drug!

A former senior aide of Saddam Hussein claims the dictator was probably high on drugs when he decided to invade Kuwait in 1990.

One word: RESPECT!

This Valentine's Day, give the gift of blue balls.

Teens promote "purity". Why anyone would choose celibacy when so many others have celibacy thrust (or not thrust as the case may be) upon them is beyond me. Then again, based on the photo, I don't think these dudes are up to their ears in poontang at the moment anyway (metaphorically speaking, of course).

Enter the jilted.

The great thing about the interweb is that it provides a forum for folks who got screwed over by their boyfriends to vent their bile-filled spleens under the guise of some sort of post-feminist deconstruction of modern male behaviour. Step right up, Rachel Elder.

This monkey's gone to heaven...

So, I've been seeing and hearing a variety of complaints emanating from south of the 49th about the Pixies' decision to kick off their reunion, pre-Coachella mini-tour in the Great White North (specifically, Winnipeg). In our nation's defense, I just wanted to say this:

Fuck you, you buncha whiners. First, it's not like we (especially those of us stuck in areas that aren't Vancouver or Toronto) get blessed with a lot of great tours over the course of your average year. No, the best we can usually manage is Nickleback (who, to the eternal shame of those of us with taste who still call E-town home, are endlessly billed as "Alberta's own Nickleback" and sell out back-to-back dates at the old Coliseum). So when we get the rare chance to see, live and in person, a touchstone of modern rock'n'roll like the Pixies, you can bet it's appreciated. So, once again, fuck you to all you Iraq-invadin', gun-totin', 12-sandwich-eatin' motherfuckers. And also: nyah nyah.

It's a damn sight better than "husky".

I think it would be really cool to be referred to as being "rakish."

What was the old low, then?

FCC chairman calls halftime show 'new low'

That's just the kind of quick, decisive action that one would expect from a Republican government, uh...right?

Bush dicks around 9-11 panel.

How soon is now?

So, at the bar this weekend and someone asks "If you could go back in time and witness just one event, what would it be?"
While the rest of the table hummed and hawed over crucifixions and whatnot, I blurted out "I'd go back to 1969 and see the Velvet Underground play the Factory!"

What does that say about me?

It's not me, it's the technology.

I have a cell phone now. I just need friends.

Make baby Jesus cry.

But I don't even believe in Jebus!

California schemin'.

Shit, I need to stop indulging my taste in vintage wines, floor-length fur coats, lap dances and the finest cocaine money can buy in order to save enough scratch to make it down to Coachella this year. The lineup looks un-fucking real (Radiohead and the fucking Pixies! On the same day!) So far (and this is unofficial) this is how it's shaping up:

SATURDAY:
Radiohead
The Pixies
Kraftwerk
Electric Six
LCD Soundsystem
Sahara Hotnights
The International Noise Conspiracy
And You Will Know Us by the Trail of Dead
Atmosphere w/ Eyedea and Abilities
Kinky

SUNDAY:
The Cure
Wilco
Air
Belle and Sebastian
Basement Jaxx
The Thrills
Moving Units
Mogwai
Dizzee Rascal
Prefuse 73
Sidestepper
T. Raumschmiere
Seb Fontaine
Sage Francis

DAY UNKNOWN:
The Flaming Lips
Le Tigre
The Streets
!!!
Yeah Yeah Yeahs
Bright Eyes
Death Cab for Cutie
The Sleepy Jackson
My Morning Jacket
The Crystal Method
Paul Van Dyk
Mark Farina
The Stills
Broken Social Scene
The Killers
Stellastarr
The Black Keys

Say it with me, now: ROAD TRIP!

It's spreading...

4 a.m. Jihad

I love the word jihad, and am trying to use it more in casual conversation. As in: "What's up with her outfit? Has she declared a jihad on good taste?"

You get the picture.

Dude, it's SO fucking on!

"Listen to me. Now lookit, when you go up to talk to her, man, I don't want you to be the guy in PG-13 movie everyone's really hopin' makes it happen. I want you to be like the guy in the rated R movie. You know? The guy you're not sure whether or not you like yet. You're not sure where he's comin' from okay? You're a bad man, you're a bad man, you're a bad man. Bad man."

Prone to violent outbursts.

This guy needs to have his teeth kicked in for writing such a load of smug, condescending, self-satisfied crap and passing it onto the public. I have many married friends. Some of them are even happy, and bless 'em for it. But then I also know people who enjoy Nickleback. Maybe that's the right choice for them, but it's not for everyone. At the end, though, Steinberg's characterization of single people as cowardly, sad, disconnected and pathetic is as much of a fallacy as the single-person stereotype of married folk as zombie-like beings compelled to transform all around into facsimiles of themselves (a fallacy that Steinberg embraces with his contention that married people are "trying to help our single friends salvage what's left of their lives before the years pass, irretrievable.")
One has to wonder what would prompt such a outburst at people who's greatest crime against civilization is singledom. Steinberg is so quick to paint a profoundly rosy picture of matrimony and married people as some higher form of being (as though marriage were some transcendent act that elevates you to a high plane of existence) that one can't help but wonder if he's really lashing out purely out of jealousy.
I'd also like to hear what his wife has to say.