Minnie's and NAMEWITHHELD are Banned
Or/And
I've Learned my Lesson About Music Piracy
Friday I played poker with the boys.
Yeah, right. Acquaintances.
Let me rephrase: I went to a poker party with a bunch of people I vaguely know.
Acquaintances can be fun every once in awhile, but every time I'm in one of these situations, I remember why they are acquaintances and not friends.
Basically, bottom line is, I don't share much in common with them and they aren't used to just how drunk I can become.
Friday I was really drunk.
I became annoyed first with this one guy who was drinking apple juice and eating trailmix at a goddamn poker party. I limited my hatred for his health to asking if this large phone/computer thingy he had was a tricorder.
Steve and I were the only people to get the joke.
This pissed me off even more.
Next, there was this guy who figured he was Hoyle and went around explaining how great he was at poker.
The next thing you know, I realize that everyone but Steve and I, at the party, was INTO poker.
Big time.
I've seen this before: a group of people who collectively have the attention span of Yoda and have tuned that expanse of paying attention to the awesome world that is Celebrity Poker.
I, on the other hand, have no attention span to anything involving directions.
None.
That's one of the many reason I hate most sports: I nod off the second I hear "A first down is..."
So, I'm stuck in this game of poker that has been brilliantly choreographed to look like the World Series of Poker if it were to be played in some dude's garage.
A timer was set up to make sure the games didn't run too long. The chips came in a case that looked like it should be holding some Stiletto pistol in a Bond movie. A large "Dealer" chip was used to identify the dealer.
Wait for it......
What the? A "Dealer" chip? Did I miss something? Did we need a chip to identify the man or woman who was tossing cards at players?
Good lord.
And of course, I was the first dealer.
I think some of the guys folded if for only this fact.
The games progressed and I got steadily drunker. I had no idea what I was doing. I didn't have the brain functions to even identify the cards, much less a straight flush. Yet, I was up and winning.
But, God doesn't like a loser to win, unless you're running for president, and he stopped this quickly.
According to my acquaintances and Steve, I almost won on some type of flush that I didn't even know existed.
I was now out and glad. I smoked a cigarette and played dice with a couple of the other losers.
One loser in particular, NAME WITHHELD, is no longer an acquaintance. He's been regulated to the part of my brain I call "Where I keep the thought of assholes, just in case I ever get faith in humanity."
NAMEWITHHELD was an acquaintance that I didn't like at first, but then, grew to think he was a descent dude, as long as other people weren't around for him to impress.
Most of my good friends can't stand the dude, but I've stuck up for him because he never really pissed me off.
Well, a few dice games in and I'm slurring the word "the" and having trouble figuring out what dice even are, when I mistake a rule and break it in some way that NAMEWITHHELD found retarded. Now, I'm being called Corky every other second – NAMEWITHHELD has around three jokes to his repertoire and Corky is his big gun.
So I'm putting up with this, like a champ, and not letting it bug me too badly.
I go out to take a piss and come back in to hear everyone laughing. It seems Steve asked NAMEWITHHELD what he was doing and he replied "I'm at the shit table with Eckert."
This pissed me off only because it was behind my back.
Soon, we were leaving and NAMEWITHHELD was dealing cards.
It's a well-known fact that NAMEWITHHELD got laid off and has been looking for work. In fact, I tried to get him a job at my company.
So, I see him dealing and said something to the effect of "Hey, maybe you can get a job doing that."
Not even funny, or worth a burn, but I'm not used to giving shit in anger.
As I walked out, I shot him the bird and then bitched to Steve about what a toolshed NAMEWITHHELD is.
Toolshed isn't really the word, it's more like prick: this is the guy who secretly recorded sex with some chick.
Anywonder.
So, Steve and I go to Minnie's and I realize, for the foreverenth time, that Minnie's food tastes like shit. Minnie's is now BANNED from my list of diners.
Nothing happened after that and I went home and finished my omelet and slept.
When I woke up I started feeling guilty about giving NAMEWITHHELD a hard time, seeing as his unemployment is a sore subject.
This quickly passed and I began my day.
Later on, Scott called and reminded me that I had invited him to the hockey game I was supposed to go to with him, Shanna, Steve, and NAMEWITHHELD.
I had nothing better to do, and I figured: fuck it, I'll apologize to the guy for the job comment and go to the game.
I figured, on the one hand, he's a prick; but, on the other hand, I acted like a prick as well.
So, I went to the game.
At the game we ran into Steve and NAMEWITHHELD and I apologized. NAMEWITHHELD gave me a "no biggie, I don't even remember it" and then went into a whole new barrage of "Corky's." Then, knowing that I have this damn website thingy, I mentioned that I saw this guy Nate and NAMEWITHHELD goes "Oh, you gonna write about it?"
That comment was actually funny, but it pissed me off that the prick was going to just start in with the bullshit. Not only that, this prick asked for my help (like anyone needs help) setting up a weblog of his own.
The whole time he's doing this, Steve is giving me a look like "He's piss drunk, watch out" and trying to calm NAMEWITHHELD down.
I walked away relieved that I wasn't the one acting like a douchebag for once.
Later, at Peso's, we ran into NAMEWITHHELD again and he was just as drunk and belligerent. It hit me again: good lord, I'm glad I don't get like that anymore.
I left after a beer.
So, I learned my lesson about music piracy.
Yeah, right, but I'm sure not going to be brazen about it.
For the last month I've been scouring the web for leaks of the new Nails album. Well, one of the places I Googled was this douchebag's site where he explained that he had the link, but anyone who asked him for it was a degenerate for wanting to pirate the song.
I left a comment on his page, letting him know that he was a douchebag and I think this angered him. He went off in his comments on me, so I posted an even more smartass remark. This got no attention, until I made the mistake of putting my URL on there, so that he might post the song.
I should've known better. He hit my site the very day I posted the incredible shot of my tongue and when I looked at his site today, my ugly visage was the topic of hatred.
I never would've imagined that getting "Good God You're Ugly" comments would bother me, coming from the anonymous world of the web, especially coming from a fucking dude, especially one that seems to be versed in enough technology, file swapping, and groupiness that I'm certain he lives with his mother and is holding a managerial post at a Best Buy in Wichita.
But....dear god....i......i was hurt.
It wasn't so much the comment, but the idea that someone hated me enough to post what would be a mean comment if I was someone who took a great deal of pride in my looks.
It totally ruined my day! What the hell? It's like that comment grew me a pussy.
Oh, well.
My next lesson about piracy came in the form of a large, naked black man.
That's right.
So, today a bunch of new stuff leaked and I was able to download a good deal of it. But, I was like that puppy who sees his own reflection in a pond, goes after the bone in his...OK, you know what fucking story I mean...the puppy one.
Anyway, so I'm greedily looking for more clips to complete the set of Nails song excerpts, when I see this hyperlink to what is explained as the entire album.
Without a moment's hesitation I click the link and a large, naked black man (at work, mind you) appears on my screen. I believe he was doing someone or something from behind, but I can only guess, as the second he popped up I was clicking the exit button like a madman.
I finally got rid of the image. But, he was up long enough to say "Hey, Matt, like your job? Well, while I'm boning this chick, I just figured I'd go ahead and let you know how I feel about downloading music. You see, anyone on the Internet who is well versed in computers and has a stalker-like love for a particular musician gets pissed off when you try to download that musician's music. See, these folks think they're buddies with that musician and that if they stick up for their buddy, somewhere down the line, that musician will be a buddy of theirs. I guess these people are lonely; I don't really know. But, I do know this: I'm Coming!!!!!!!"
And, you know, for a large, naked black man boning a chick, he was a pretty nice guy.
Pleace,
Matt
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Monday, March 29, 2010
Uday 2
Levi Presents:
Uday Hussein on.....
Family
What was the question?
Yeah. Yeah. We were like a family in some ways.
What would I look forward to?
Uh...we had these dinners. We would have these great dinners with lamb and wine and all these people.
We'd feel so potent with our country.
Yes. Potent.
The dinners climaxed with our father's great speeches. But, it was always the same speech and for the life of me I cannot remember it.
It's like a joke now. You know, how I can't remember a speech that was said over and over again.
What was he like? Ahh.....like any father. He was forgetful; I'll remember that.
He forgot everything. You'd ask him what he had for breakfast and he wouldn't know. But, if you asked him about our plans of war he'd have them verbatim...verbatim.
Sure, my brother and I got along. Did he try to kill me? Sure. That's how it was. It's...you don't know how it is. It's different when you're part of what you call a regime.
No, he wasn't. He was never...I did things out of evil, he was more...it's funny, because he was more the humanitarian, bodies and all.
I'm more, I don't know, focused on the kill.
Frathouse? I don't understand?
Oh, yes, my bedroom. I love the ladies - especially your American girls. They're sluts you know. We may be dirty, but your women excel at the sex side of the porn trade.
Heh.
This has been another edition of Uday Hussein on Life...
Uday Hussein on.....
Family
What was the question?
Yeah. Yeah. We were like a family in some ways.
What would I look forward to?
Uh...we had these dinners. We would have these great dinners with lamb and wine and all these people.
We'd feel so potent with our country.
Yes. Potent.
The dinners climaxed with our father's great speeches. But, it was always the same speech and for the life of me I cannot remember it.
It's like a joke now. You know, how I can't remember a speech that was said over and over again.
What was he like? Ahh.....like any father. He was forgetful; I'll remember that.
He forgot everything. You'd ask him what he had for breakfast and he wouldn't know. But, if you asked him about our plans of war he'd have them verbatim...verbatim.
Sure, my brother and I got along. Did he try to kill me? Sure. That's how it was. It's...you don't know how it is. It's different when you're part of what you call a regime.
No, he wasn't. He was never...I did things out of evil, he was more...it's funny, because he was more the humanitarian, bodies and all.
I'm more, I don't know, focused on the kill.
Frathouse? I don't understand?
Oh, yes, my bedroom. I love the ladies - especially your American girls. They're sluts you know. We may be dirty, but your women excel at the sex side of the porn trade.
Heh.
This has been another edition of Uday Hussein on Life...
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Lecture
Lecture by Management
(clever management)
Use of such content in the documentation will lead to the thinking, by others, that it is evident that you categorize your thought processes using a pasta strainer as a filter.
Furthermore, your written words are beneficial to no one. It is clear that you choose to need more training. Bottom line: see how your interpretation of the overall effect of your last email sent was received.
Listed below are some key points to remember:
Going the extra mile is far beyond our goals to police the out sourcing of adults listed as professionals.
It is possible somebody completed the week in response to the moment rather than to improve or do.
While we may be out of stock, we are not doing cartwheels, ecstatic with kudos in response.
Our corporate dashboard is made up of a grid of consumers: we need to push the core in order to stopping dropping these plates we spin on our fingers as we hash out the end user to further bomb our customer and dance happy at five, four and up into the evening.
If we have to add change to the list of what got us helpful, you will realize that what will suck will be the feedback we receive, stretching this thing into something that could be called important.
At the request of our new management, remember to record whole negative numbers in the program "LOU."
Geared up for the Fall quarter, remember that a call that sounds like a disclaimer is read three times and duly noted.
Ummmm.....you should know that the sales are lagging as incorporated in the track of fresh meat we are using to translate the issues in order to stay productive.
Simple navigation, encompassing vague content due to programmer suggestions of content depending on comment will produce none of one of the positive effects of the subject.
In the weeks to come, leave all case out of documents, period.
First, you guys, in form order, be friendly and leave a reminder so that we don't repeat the mistakes of long ago.
Damn it, if it's stormy and dark then you have been beyond deadline and need to think about A, B, and C.
The time received is not an option; continually be essential to our company and your documents.
Help keep our text quality.
Thick, thank, drink, and point!
Thank you
(clever management)
Use of such content in the documentation will lead to the thinking, by others, that it is evident that you categorize your thought processes using a pasta strainer as a filter.
Furthermore, your written words are beneficial to no one. It is clear that you choose to need more training. Bottom line: see how your interpretation of the overall effect of your last email sent was received.
Listed below are some key points to remember:
Going the extra mile is far beyond our goals to police the out sourcing of adults listed as professionals.
It is possible somebody completed the week in response to the moment rather than to improve or do.
While we may be out of stock, we are not doing cartwheels, ecstatic with kudos in response.
Our corporate dashboard is made up of a grid of consumers: we need to push the core in order to stopping dropping these plates we spin on our fingers as we hash out the end user to further bomb our customer and dance happy at five, four and up into the evening.
If we have to add change to the list of what got us helpful, you will realize that what will suck will be the feedback we receive, stretching this thing into something that could be called important.
At the request of our new management, remember to record whole negative numbers in the program "LOU."
Geared up for the Fall quarter, remember that a call that sounds like a disclaimer is read three times and duly noted.
Ummmm.....you should know that the sales are lagging as incorporated in the track of fresh meat we are using to translate the issues in order to stay productive.
Simple navigation, encompassing vague content due to programmer suggestions of content depending on comment will produce none of one of the positive effects of the subject.
In the weeks to come, leave all case out of documents, period.
First, you guys, in form order, be friendly and leave a reminder so that we don't repeat the mistakes of long ago.
Damn it, if it's stormy and dark then you have been beyond deadline and need to think about A, B, and C.
The time received is not an option; continually be essential to our company and your documents.
Help keep our text quality.
Thick, thank, drink, and point!
Thank you
Friday, March 26, 2010
Bang
"Would you like some cancer with that?" It's nine in the morning and I'm getting tired of this.
Everyday is exactly the same and I end up in this endless TV show.
I tell the waitress, "No."
I'm in a strip club at the end of the world. I'm staring at a large, circular stage. Above the stage, dancers are crouched in cages – eight of them.
When the music starts, the dancers drop from the cages onto the dance floor and strip for my amusement.
I clap along with the music that has nothing to do with naked women.
The song sounds like it might be called "Let me give you a Squirrel" and the women are grinding on each other to the beat.
Sweat hits me in the face and the dancers begin looking nervous. A puff of smoke billows out from above the stage and the dancers are frozen in liquid nitro and become statuettes that will soon be auctioned off to Japanese businessmen.
I grow so tired of this, everyday.
Everyday is the end of the world.
A woman sits down next to me and says "I wish I sold crack for a living."
I ask her why and she replies "Why not?"
I laugh at this and she tells me that she's a bartender here.
I ask her if it makes good money and she opens her mouth, revealing a large set of fangs, and answers "I don't need money."
The thought of this woman tearing a large hole in my jugular crosses my mind, but then I remember that I'm a dignitary at the end of the world and the thought passes.
"You're a dignitary aren't you?" She asks, confirming my thoughts.
"Yes, I'm here on behalf of America."
"What's America?"
"It's a country that was once in the world, before it ended."
"Um. Was it nice?"
"Do you know any countries that are nice?"
"Don't be a smart ass." She says as a tongue flashes across her lips and I remind myself that this woman lives on people juice.
I get up and walk to the door, but before I leave I order a beer from the bar.
There's no open container law at the end of the world.
I walk outside and realize the vampire is following me and whisper "Oh, Jesus."
Jesus is standing near the door talking to a hooker, and hears this. He's in a foul mood and I understand why.
"What the fuck do you want?"
I whisper "Amen." And assume this ends the conversation.
Outside I'm reminded that there is no sun at the end of the world and light a candle to walk with.
I'm going to another bar.
The Oredorium is the bar at the very end of the world and I decide to go there.
On the edge of reality, it teeters on stilts and many a drunk has fallen into the void.
In fact, there's a sign that reads "WARNING: VOID" posted in front of the end of the world, proper.
In the bar I sit next to Santa Claus and he's bitching up a storm about some martini he didn't receive. I tell Santa "Easy, pal."
"Don't fucking easy me, pal. OK? I've been waiting here for twenty minutes for a fucking drink and the Easter Bunny is over there talking to my bitch. Now, if I want to get the courage to smack that fuck, I'm going to need that martini!"
He's drunk again.
I order another beer, tilt the rest of the one I was drinking, and then wander over to the jukebox.
I look at the tracks and can't even understand what language the songs are scribed in.
I randomly hit a button and Kurt Cobain begins babbling about his lack of a gun.
An alien taps me on the shoulder and says "I'm here to give you syphilis." I laugh at this until I realize he's holding a hypodermic needle. He's tall and has a large, orange head with midnight eyes.
I pull out my gun and shoot him in the face.
Through the smoking hole in his head I see the bartender produce another beer. I reach through the hole and grab it, before the body has a chance to drop.
Death is like a punch in the face here and not everyone who dies stays dead.
Take Jesus. He's been killed so many times that lately he's just been offing himself for sport.
"I can't die, man." I remember him telling me once. "It's like...shit! It takes all the fun out of life."
I told him "I know what you mean." Even though I didn't.
I realize Elvis is playing Gin down the bar and I sit next to him and ask him if he has a smoke.
He tells me "No." in a low voice and I realize he's losing again.
And to Richard Nixon, no less.
"How's things, Dick?" I ask Nixon.
"So, you're still the ambassador for America, right?"
I tell him "Yes."
He replies "Tell me, Axl – what's America's interest in the end of the world?"
I tell him "They're real religious these days. You're a Quaker, don't you remember religion?"
"Wasn't that all that bullshit about Jesus being the Son of God?"
"Yes."
"Well, there's the son of God." I follow his finger and Jesus is at a corner table drinking shots out of a Drano bottle.
Jesus raises his glass "To passion!"
Nixon looks me in the eye, winks and says "Where's your messiah now?"
I get up and Nixon grabs me by my jacket.
"What the hell, we're playing a game!" Elvis screams.
Nixon pulls me down to him and says "If you go back, tell them that aliens have been running the world since 1945."
"Really?"
"No. But, tell them anyway."
There are aliens, but they don't start running the world until the very end. They live a town over and John Wayne is firing at them through an open window.
Lennon and Lenin are sitting at the bar playing a game:
"You're Lenin!"
"No, you're Lennon!"
"No, you're Lenin!" and so forth.
I think they're lovers.
I have to send some sort of report back towards the beginning of the world, to around 2000 and I'm having trouble thinking of anything to report.
Would they like to know that America collapsed in 2064 and that religion was rendered obscure when Voyager came back with the meaning of life taped to its nose cone? That God is a peanut butter sandwich that acquired divinity through osmosis with his own ridiculousness and looped the Universe into a donut, only to create it billions of years in the past? That Neil Diamond is going to come back in a really, really big way?
Probably not, and that's why I'm sending the transmission.
Hell, it's my job.
I walk to the void and stare out and watch the big bang envelope the sky and realize that the Hotpocket is the only worth while man-made invention.
This confuses me; I transmit my letter, and step out into the void.
Everyday is exactly the same and I end up in this endless TV show.
I tell the waitress, "No."
I'm in a strip club at the end of the world. I'm staring at a large, circular stage. Above the stage, dancers are crouched in cages – eight of them.
When the music starts, the dancers drop from the cages onto the dance floor and strip for my amusement.
I clap along with the music that has nothing to do with naked women.
The song sounds like it might be called "Let me give you a Squirrel" and the women are grinding on each other to the beat.
Sweat hits me in the face and the dancers begin looking nervous. A puff of smoke billows out from above the stage and the dancers are frozen in liquid nitro and become statuettes that will soon be auctioned off to Japanese businessmen.
I grow so tired of this, everyday.
Everyday is the end of the world.
A woman sits down next to me and says "I wish I sold crack for a living."
I ask her why and she replies "Why not?"
I laugh at this and she tells me that she's a bartender here.
I ask her if it makes good money and she opens her mouth, revealing a large set of fangs, and answers "I don't need money."
The thought of this woman tearing a large hole in my jugular crosses my mind, but then I remember that I'm a dignitary at the end of the world and the thought passes.
"You're a dignitary aren't you?" She asks, confirming my thoughts.
"Yes, I'm here on behalf of America."
"What's America?"
"It's a country that was once in the world, before it ended."
"Um. Was it nice?"
"Do you know any countries that are nice?"
"Don't be a smart ass." She says as a tongue flashes across her lips and I remind myself that this woman lives on people juice.
I get up and walk to the door, but before I leave I order a beer from the bar.
There's no open container law at the end of the world.
I walk outside and realize the vampire is following me and whisper "Oh, Jesus."
Jesus is standing near the door talking to a hooker, and hears this. He's in a foul mood and I understand why.
"What the fuck do you want?"
I whisper "Amen." And assume this ends the conversation.
Outside I'm reminded that there is no sun at the end of the world and light a candle to walk with.
I'm going to another bar.
The Oredorium is the bar at the very end of the world and I decide to go there.
On the edge of reality, it teeters on stilts and many a drunk has fallen into the void.
In fact, there's a sign that reads "WARNING: VOID" posted in front of the end of the world, proper.
In the bar I sit next to Santa Claus and he's bitching up a storm about some martini he didn't receive. I tell Santa "Easy, pal."
"Don't fucking easy me, pal. OK? I've been waiting here for twenty minutes for a fucking drink and the Easter Bunny is over there talking to my bitch. Now, if I want to get the courage to smack that fuck, I'm going to need that martini!"
He's drunk again.
I order another beer, tilt the rest of the one I was drinking, and then wander over to the jukebox.
I look at the tracks and can't even understand what language the songs are scribed in.
I randomly hit a button and Kurt Cobain begins babbling about his lack of a gun.
An alien taps me on the shoulder and says "I'm here to give you syphilis." I laugh at this until I realize he's holding a hypodermic needle. He's tall and has a large, orange head with midnight eyes.
I pull out my gun and shoot him in the face.
Through the smoking hole in his head I see the bartender produce another beer. I reach through the hole and grab it, before the body has a chance to drop.
Death is like a punch in the face here and not everyone who dies stays dead.
Take Jesus. He's been killed so many times that lately he's just been offing himself for sport.
"I can't die, man." I remember him telling me once. "It's like...shit! It takes all the fun out of life."
I told him "I know what you mean." Even though I didn't.
I realize Elvis is playing Gin down the bar and I sit next to him and ask him if he has a smoke.
He tells me "No." in a low voice and I realize he's losing again.
And to Richard Nixon, no less.
"How's things, Dick?" I ask Nixon.
"So, you're still the ambassador for America, right?"
I tell him "Yes."
He replies "Tell me, Axl – what's America's interest in the end of the world?"
I tell him "They're real religious these days. You're a Quaker, don't you remember religion?"
"Wasn't that all that bullshit about Jesus being the Son of God?"
"Yes."
"Well, there's the son of God." I follow his finger and Jesus is at a corner table drinking shots out of a Drano bottle.
Jesus raises his glass "To passion!"
Nixon looks me in the eye, winks and says "Where's your messiah now?"
I get up and Nixon grabs me by my jacket.
"What the hell, we're playing a game!" Elvis screams.
Nixon pulls me down to him and says "If you go back, tell them that aliens have been running the world since 1945."
"Really?"
"No. But, tell them anyway."
There are aliens, but they don't start running the world until the very end. They live a town over and John Wayne is firing at them through an open window.
Lennon and Lenin are sitting at the bar playing a game:
"You're Lenin!"
"No, you're Lennon!"
"No, you're Lenin!" and so forth.
I think they're lovers.
I have to send some sort of report back towards the beginning of the world, to around 2000 and I'm having trouble thinking of anything to report.
Would they like to know that America collapsed in 2064 and that religion was rendered obscure when Voyager came back with the meaning of life taped to its nose cone? That God is a peanut butter sandwich that acquired divinity through osmosis with his own ridiculousness and looped the Universe into a donut, only to create it billions of years in the past? That Neil Diamond is going to come back in a really, really big way?
Probably not, and that's why I'm sending the transmission.
Hell, it's my job.
I walk to the void and stare out and watch the big bang envelope the sky and realize that the Hotpocket is the only worth while man-made invention.
This confuses me; I transmit my letter, and step out into the void.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
What Do You Care?
Google me, oh, uh...yessss
Nine Inch Nails: With Teeth
Leaked Clips
And
Chris Connelly's New Album
And
Ministry Side Trax
And
Elliot Smith Blows Except for the Self-Titled Album
K,
So, here it is: all the 30 second clips from the new nails album.
Click Me
Here's a critique, based on only 30 secs of each song, barring THTF and TLBTB (which I have in full and won't share cuz I'm a hypocritical pirate geek, just joking. personally i hate everyone who refused to share this album with people. i think they are the lowest form of geeks since KKKarl Rove):
All the Love in the World: Sounds a lot like the amazing instrumentals from Still, but with lyrics. Not sure what the song is about. 8.0
You Know What you Are: Very hard to discern what this will sound like. Maybe a bit like "The Wretched." I'm guessing it's directed at our president his men. Again, very hard to figure out how good/bad this will be. 7.0
The Collector: Sounds very poppy, like a Foo Fighters song. Oh, wait, Dave Grohl is on this album; what am I thinking? I don't like it much. I'm guessing it's a jab at media content. 5.0
The Hand That Feeds: When I first heard this song, I wanted to shoot myself. It's VERY poppy and the lyrics sound like they came from a GI Joe-type cartoon intro. But, I've heard clips in better quality and it's starting to grow a bit on me. But, I still see me skipping past this one. My guess is the song is about the utter stupidity and sheepishness in anyone who voted W. last year. Before you email me, young Republican: I didn't write the song. 5.0
Love is not Enough: I like this one. The guitars are great and it has that all-powerful "stripped down" quality to it. I like it a lot. Especially the "Hey's." I'm guessing the song is about the hypocrisy of hippies thinking they're gonna get over on love and such, when they're just as annoying as conservatives. 7.0
Everyday is Exactly the Same: This is another that's just too short a clip to say. It sounds great, I like the background noises, and the title reminds me of my own pathetic life. I think this song is about my shitty life. Really, I think Trent Reznor tripped the light fantastic and lived in my head for a good week. Again, no clue, not enough on the clip. 7.0
With Teeth: K, my first word of this came from a forum that said it sounded like this: "With-uh, Teeth-uh." And I'm like, that blows. But, on hearing it: it fucking works. Big time. The music is killer as well. This may be the best song on the album. It's the title track, and it's probably got something to do with Trent pulling the gloves off on this album, and going to full CAPS. 10.0
Only: Another killer song. Sounds a lot like "Into the Void," but who cares, it works. This was described in Rolling Stone as being spoken word, Prince-like, and having a "Billy Jean" beat. I think they fucked up. I can kinda hear a "Billy Jean" beat, and maybe it's spoken word, but the prince thing is probably "Sunspots." I like this song a lot. My guess is it's the great rip on Republican entitlement. 9.0
Getting Smaller: Apparently there's a leaked full version of this, but I wouldn't bother. This song sounds like shitty Pearl Jam – and I wasn't the first to make this comment. Actually, it was a Pearl Jam fan, but never bother. This seems to suck. This song probably has something to do with losing one's personality or self through boredom and drinking and...oh, I started explaining myself again. 4.0
Sunspots: And I thought "Only" would be the new "Closer." Well, judging by the title. Anyway, this song sounds a lot like Prince or Lenny Kravitz or, basically any Rock and Rolling black man from the eighties...wait for it....and it works! It sounds pretty e-rotic. It's a "Closer"-type song, so you know what it's about. 8.0
The Line Begins to Blur: Fucking awesome. I've heard the full version and I can't stop listening to it. It definitely is one where you think "Hmmm....yeah, this is good." Then it goes up exponentially from there. Especially the part after the first chorus. I love this song. Another "stripped down" feeling song, with strong drums that remind me of "When the Levee Breaks." I'm guessing it's a ref to some part of Ursula LeGuinn's (spl?) book The Lathe of Heaven. It's a story about a guy who can control his dreams and they become real, but then this guy manipulates the power and aliens come down and Will Smith battles them like a champ. In fact the rest of the songs on the album are about this. See, first half: Bush bashing, second half: Will Smith and aliens.10.0
Beside You in Time: Spooky. It sounds like the end of the world. I like it. Real moody and detached. The background "marbles nailing each other" sound is wicked-bad. 9.0
Right Where it Belongs: Sounds very Donny Darko Soundtrack. Considering Trent may be working on the next "guy who wrote donny darko" movie (I hate research), this shouldn't surprise. This is the "Hurt" of the album. A tearjerker, complete with all your friends, family, world cheering in the background as you reflect on your life. Or, it could be the sound of aliens zapping everyone around you because you made the mistake of dreaming about it. Either way, this song is pretty good. 8.0
Chris Connelly: The Night of Your Life
Dude, buy this album. It's super strange. It's like blue grass and lounge music. I'm out of write, but seriously, this is good album.
Ministry: Side Trax
This is also awesome. Buy this album. It's a bunch of side projects from Ministry.
Newest Elliot Smith
Nine Inch Nails: With Teeth
Leaked Clips
And
Chris Connelly's New Album
And
Ministry Side Trax
And
Elliot Smith Blows Except for the Self-Titled Album
K,
So, here it is: all the 30 second clips from the new nails album.
Click Me
Here's a critique, based on only 30 secs of each song, barring THTF and TLBTB (which I have in full and won't share cuz I'm a hypocritical pirate geek, just joking. personally i hate everyone who refused to share this album with people. i think they are the lowest form of geeks since KKKarl Rove):
All the Love in the World: Sounds a lot like the amazing instrumentals from Still, but with lyrics. Not sure what the song is about. 8.0
You Know What you Are: Very hard to discern what this will sound like. Maybe a bit like "The Wretched." I'm guessing it's directed at our president his men. Again, very hard to figure out how good/bad this will be. 7.0
The Collector: Sounds very poppy, like a Foo Fighters song. Oh, wait, Dave Grohl is on this album; what am I thinking? I don't like it much. I'm guessing it's a jab at media content. 5.0
The Hand That Feeds: When I first heard this song, I wanted to shoot myself. It's VERY poppy and the lyrics sound like they came from a GI Joe-type cartoon intro. But, I've heard clips in better quality and it's starting to grow a bit on me. But, I still see me skipping past this one. My guess is the song is about the utter stupidity and sheepishness in anyone who voted W. last year. Before you email me, young Republican: I didn't write the song. 5.0
Love is not Enough: I like this one. The guitars are great and it has that all-powerful "stripped down" quality to it. I like it a lot. Especially the "Hey's." I'm guessing the song is about the hypocrisy of hippies thinking they're gonna get over on love and such, when they're just as annoying as conservatives. 7.0
Everyday is Exactly the Same: This is another that's just too short a clip to say. It sounds great, I like the background noises, and the title reminds me of my own pathetic life. I think this song is about my shitty life. Really, I think Trent Reznor tripped the light fantastic and lived in my head for a good week. Again, no clue, not enough on the clip. 7.0
With Teeth: K, my first word of this came from a forum that said it sounded like this: "With-uh, Teeth-uh." And I'm like, that blows. But, on hearing it: it fucking works. Big time. The music is killer as well. This may be the best song on the album. It's the title track, and it's probably got something to do with Trent pulling the gloves off on this album, and going to full CAPS. 10.0
Only: Another killer song. Sounds a lot like "Into the Void," but who cares, it works. This was described in Rolling Stone as being spoken word, Prince-like, and having a "Billy Jean" beat. I think they fucked up. I can kinda hear a "Billy Jean" beat, and maybe it's spoken word, but the prince thing is probably "Sunspots." I like this song a lot. My guess is it's the great rip on Republican entitlement. 9.0
Getting Smaller: Apparently there's a leaked full version of this, but I wouldn't bother. This song sounds like shitty Pearl Jam – and I wasn't the first to make this comment. Actually, it was a Pearl Jam fan, but never bother. This seems to suck. This song probably has something to do with losing one's personality or self through boredom and drinking and...oh, I started explaining myself again. 4.0
Sunspots: And I thought "Only" would be the new "Closer." Well, judging by the title. Anyway, this song sounds a lot like Prince or Lenny Kravitz or, basically any Rock and Rolling black man from the eighties...wait for it....and it works! It sounds pretty e-rotic. It's a "Closer"-type song, so you know what it's about. 8.0
The Line Begins to Blur: Fucking awesome. I've heard the full version and I can't stop listening to it. It definitely is one where you think "Hmmm....yeah, this is good." Then it goes up exponentially from there. Especially the part after the first chorus. I love this song. Another "stripped down" feeling song, with strong drums that remind me of "When the Levee Breaks." I'm guessing it's a ref to some part of Ursula LeGuinn's (spl?) book The Lathe of Heaven. It's a story about a guy who can control his dreams and they become real, but then this guy manipulates the power and aliens come down and Will Smith battles them like a champ. In fact the rest of the songs on the album are about this. See, first half: Bush bashing, second half: Will Smith and aliens.10.0
Beside You in Time: Spooky. It sounds like the end of the world. I like it. Real moody and detached. The background "marbles nailing each other" sound is wicked-bad. 9.0
Right Where it Belongs: Sounds very Donny Darko Soundtrack. Considering Trent may be working on the next "guy who wrote donny darko" movie (I hate research), this shouldn't surprise. This is the "Hurt" of the album. A tearjerker, complete with all your friends, family, world cheering in the background as you reflect on your life. Or, it could be the sound of aliens zapping everyone around you because you made the mistake of dreaming about it. Either way, this song is pretty good. 8.0
Chris Connelly: The Night of Your Life
Dude, buy this album. It's super strange. It's like blue grass and lounge music. I'm out of write, but seriously, this is good album.
Ministry: Side Trax
This is also awesome. Buy this album. It's a bunch of side projects from Ministry.
Newest Elliot Smith
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Health Care - just kidding
Teenagers are the Only Cool Thing on this Planet
(When they're not playing rap full blast and talking like 50 Cent was their English teacher)
Click Me
I would've gone the Ding Dong route - it's less gay.
Also, whose semen did he use? His own? I have enough homophobic tendencies that the mere idea of any dude eating my sperm would make me ill.
Also, I could never pull this prank off because I'd be up for attempted murder.
No, I don't have AIDS, but I have toxic sperm.
See, when you blow a load, you fire off a dollop of manifold fighters that are intent on doing only one thing: penetrating the egg like a bunker buster.
The sperms fight each other to get to the egg like a feeding frenzy for a donut involving the Rove and Limbaugh families.
Good god that was a shitty analogy. I sat there and thought about it for a while, even.
Moving right along, each sperm battles every other sperm, using their tails like whips to mangle their opponent. Towards the end, it's down to 100 sperms all battling it out in the steel cage that is the...the...the fucking place where the egg gets fertilized. Damn!
But, only one sperm will have the grappling skills to squirm its way into the cradle of life like the man who produced them squirmed his way into the woman's one bedroom town home.
It's vicious and it really tells you something about humanity.
If it weren't for social norms, I would strap a tail on my back and whip my ass at anyone in my way to get a cup of coffee in the break room.
Man, that would be awesome. And, basically, it means that whoever shakes their booty the best is the overlord of man. Sir Mix A Lot would be President...Good God!
Anyway, so, sperm are like rabid Dobermans. That's the point I'm making here.
Wait! No, my point is that my sperm would kill someone if injected.
Well, in high doses, like the kind that would frost an entire batch of brownies.
Dude, that kid must have spanked it a good fifty times to frost an entire batch of brownies.
You gotta work for revenge.
So, ladies, don't worry, you can still blow me: my sperm is only lethal in high doses.
The reason being: my sperm are drunk and they smoke. Imagine swallowing millions of drunk little tadpoles, all smoking cigarettes.
Now, imagine the amount that it would take to frost brownies.
You'd choke on cancer and cirrhosis.
So, ladies, the moral of the story is this: never ask me to frost brownies with my semen, because it'll give you cancer.
Oh, and Sir Mix A Lot would be your overlord if we lived like sperm.
Blind Justice?
Click Me
Look, I have nothing against guns: John Kerry, Kurt Cobain, Hunter S. Thompson, William Burroughs, and Chewbacca were all gun owners.
I myself am not a gun owner. The reason: I would end up like Cobain or Thompson. Hell, even worse: Kerry.
But, are we going too far when we give the blind a gun?
My cousin is mentally handicapped and her birthday is coming up. Do you think I should get her a Beretta?
I don't care if the guy used I-Ching to nail the target and Patton guided his hand from beyond the grave: it's just too fucking nuts.
YOU DON'T GIVE DRUNKS OR BLIND PEOPLE WEAPONS!
Period.
I know it's rude to compare the blind to drunks – but, look, neither of us can drive a car, so why would we get guns?
I guess this makes me wonder if this guy has a seeing sight dog. Like, it nudges the barrel toward the target for the blind dude.
Also, this guy has the best excuse in the world for murder: HE'S FUCKING BLIND!
"Mr. Blindguy, what happened on the night of September 22?"
"I shot my wife."
"Because she was having an affair with the Gardner?"
"No. Of course not. You see, I didn't know it was my wife, I thought it was the target."
"What? Are you blind?"
"You better believe it!"
Well, I'm done for today.
Oh, wait – I came upon something that you might find shocking. You may even cry. I don't know. But, I would have to say that the fate of the world probably depends on this.
K, so you know those small, nothing microwavable burritos that you buy in 30 packs at Costco? You know the ones that replaced Top Ramen as the stoner food of choice? K, well.... here goes.... they have FUCKING 280 calories in them apiece! I know what you're thinking: God Matt is fucking awesome. Then, you're probably thinking: Dude, it's a fucking microwavable burrito, did you think it was healthy?
Of course not, that's ridiculous. But, the tiny fucking thing has the same amount of calories as half a sub from Subway, with everything on it. Not only that, but if you eat two of these little things you're eating the equivalent of a Whopper.
Why not just get the fucking Whopper with all that shit on it?
Good Lord, will anything make fucking sense in this world.
Oh, also, Mt. St. Helens is blowing again. What a bitch. Cross your fingers that it desolates Eastern Washington even more so and that it somehow gets me out of work.
(When they're not playing rap full blast and talking like 50 Cent was their English teacher)
Click Me
I would've gone the Ding Dong route - it's less gay.
Also, whose semen did he use? His own? I have enough homophobic tendencies that the mere idea of any dude eating my sperm would make me ill.
Also, I could never pull this prank off because I'd be up for attempted murder.
No, I don't have AIDS, but I have toxic sperm.
See, when you blow a load, you fire off a dollop of manifold fighters that are intent on doing only one thing: penetrating the egg like a bunker buster.
The sperms fight each other to get to the egg like a feeding frenzy for a donut involving the Rove and Limbaugh families.
Good god that was a shitty analogy. I sat there and thought about it for a while, even.
Moving right along, each sperm battles every other sperm, using their tails like whips to mangle their opponent. Towards the end, it's down to 100 sperms all battling it out in the steel cage that is the...the...the fucking place where the egg gets fertilized. Damn!
But, only one sperm will have the grappling skills to squirm its way into the cradle of life like the man who produced them squirmed his way into the woman's one bedroom town home.
It's vicious and it really tells you something about humanity.
If it weren't for social norms, I would strap a tail on my back and whip my ass at anyone in my way to get a cup of coffee in the break room.
Man, that would be awesome. And, basically, it means that whoever shakes their booty the best is the overlord of man. Sir Mix A Lot would be President...Good God!
Anyway, so, sperm are like rabid Dobermans. That's the point I'm making here.
Wait! No, my point is that my sperm would kill someone if injected.
Well, in high doses, like the kind that would frost an entire batch of brownies.
Dude, that kid must have spanked it a good fifty times to frost an entire batch of brownies.
You gotta work for revenge.
So, ladies, don't worry, you can still blow me: my sperm is only lethal in high doses.
The reason being: my sperm are drunk and they smoke. Imagine swallowing millions of drunk little tadpoles, all smoking cigarettes.
Now, imagine the amount that it would take to frost brownies.
You'd choke on cancer and cirrhosis.
So, ladies, the moral of the story is this: never ask me to frost brownies with my semen, because it'll give you cancer.
Oh, and Sir Mix A Lot would be your overlord if we lived like sperm.
Blind Justice?
Click Me
Look, I have nothing against guns: John Kerry, Kurt Cobain, Hunter S. Thompson, William Burroughs, and Chewbacca were all gun owners.
I myself am not a gun owner. The reason: I would end up like Cobain or Thompson. Hell, even worse: Kerry.
But, are we going too far when we give the blind a gun?
My cousin is mentally handicapped and her birthday is coming up. Do you think I should get her a Beretta?
I don't care if the guy used I-Ching to nail the target and Patton guided his hand from beyond the grave: it's just too fucking nuts.
YOU DON'T GIVE DRUNKS OR BLIND PEOPLE WEAPONS!
Period.
I know it's rude to compare the blind to drunks – but, look, neither of us can drive a car, so why would we get guns?
I guess this makes me wonder if this guy has a seeing sight dog. Like, it nudges the barrel toward the target for the blind dude.
Also, this guy has the best excuse in the world for murder: HE'S FUCKING BLIND!
"Mr. Blindguy, what happened on the night of September 22?"
"I shot my wife."
"Because she was having an affair with the Gardner?"
"No. Of course not. You see, I didn't know it was my wife, I thought it was the target."
"What? Are you blind?"
"You better believe it!"
Well, I'm done for today.
Oh, wait – I came upon something that you might find shocking. You may even cry. I don't know. But, I would have to say that the fate of the world probably depends on this.
K, so you know those small, nothing microwavable burritos that you buy in 30 packs at Costco? You know the ones that replaced Top Ramen as the stoner food of choice? K, well.... here goes.... they have FUCKING 280 calories in them apiece! I know what you're thinking: God Matt is fucking awesome. Then, you're probably thinking: Dude, it's a fucking microwavable burrito, did you think it was healthy?
Of course not, that's ridiculous. But, the tiny fucking thing has the same amount of calories as half a sub from Subway, with everything on it. Not only that, but if you eat two of these little things you're eating the equivalent of a Whopper.
Why not just get the fucking Whopper with all that shit on it?
Good Lord, will anything make fucking sense in this world.
Oh, also, Mt. St. Helens is blowing again. What a bitch. Cross your fingers that it desolates Eastern Washington even more so and that it somehow gets me out of work.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)