( 3:49 AM )
Very, very random thoughts.
You like blogging?
Wait, my spine is pierced and I’m totally in to Satan!
Kamikaze writing. Nonsense gibberish. Farty fart fart, fart fart fart. Snorty snort dickle-poo. Very tired, slightly inebriated, and listening to Shawn Smith’s new masterpiece Shield of Thorns. I’ll have an actual album review up for it soon.
I’m unsatisfied with the Chargers draft thus far. Sure the extra picks from NY are nice, but why don’t you just tell Drew Brees to leave town now. San Diego needs offensive and defensive linemen, and sticky-fingered receivers-- not another QB problem.
RIP Pat Tillman
The Good American # 16:
Placing an American flag sticker on the back window of your Suburban doesn’t make you a better American.
Song of the Day: “Alcohol” Howlin’ Maggie 1996
( 11:12 PM )
Bad Ideas
Warning—there are two swear words used below in this entry. The faint of heart should stop reading now or you may not sleep tonight.
It’s been reported that Preparation H wanted to use the Johnny Cash song “Ring of Fire” for a television commercial. Not surprisingly the Cash estate said no way. This got me thinking of other songs that won’t appear in a commercial anytime soon.
I doubt that Ted Nugent would allow “Cat Scratch Fever” to be used in a kitty litter commercial (well, maybe he would) or that Trump Casinos could ever afford “Stairway to Heaven.” I can’t imagine Captain & Tennille’s “Do That To Me One More Time” or AC/DC’s “Let Me Put My Love Into You” will ever backdrop an AIDS prevention spot.
Here’s a few really bad ideas:
Betty Ford Center—“Institutionalized” Suicidal Tendencies
Coors Light—“Too Drunk To Fuck” Dead Kennedys
Petco—“Can Your Pussy Do The Dog?” Cramps
San Diego Chargers—“Ready To Take a Chance Again” Barry Manilow
Krispy Kreme Doughnuts—“Big Bottom” Spinal Tap
Song of the Day: “Right On” Marvin Gaye live 1972
( 11:33 PM )
Kurdt
The brag in me wants to say that I heard of Nirvana before everyone else did, but then I’d be a liar and a thief. Hmm, how ironic. I discovered them like everyone else on the East Coast—in late 1991. I was entering the height of my single rockin’ dude years, enjoying newfound college freedom and “having a good time all the time” was in full effect.
Around Halloween that year I was hanging out on a Saturday night with two girl friends I’ll call Tigra and Thundra. Killing time “getting primed” to go club hopping, we sat in my living room and for some odd reason, we repeatedly blasted “teen spirit.” We were mesmerized by it. We sang along with it. The music made me seem invincible. We played the song like four or five times in a row before finally turning the volume down and the lights back up. Damn if I know why we did that, but I'll just never forget it. Hey if this were Penthouse Forum, I’d tell you how hot the chicks were and how we invented some new sexual positions, but then again, I’d be a liar and a thief (they were really both very good looking though).
A decade later I’m uncomfortable with the genius label Cobain often receives. Some of it is rightly deserved, but I’m convinced that if he were alive today he’d be totally embarrassed by it. In April 1994 after Kert’s body was found on the 8th, this guy I used to work with drew a perfect scene of Cobain lying dead with a shotgun on a piece of scrap paper. Next to a blown-off shoe was written “Oh poor, poor me. I’m rich & famous and have my pick of drugs & big breasted teenage girls, I think I’ll blow my head off.”
I’m looking at the sketch right now. It’s snapped into the back case of my unplugged CD. Perfectly absurd, it somehow sums up everything. I can’t believe it’s been ten years.
RIP,
Boddah
Song of the day: “Seasons of Wither” Aerosmith, 1974
( 11:25 PM )
No fooling
Legend has it that one hazy weekend in late-1968, the Doors inconceivably recorded a holiday album in a tiny Venice Beach recording studio called A Doors Christmas. Songs like “Celebration of the Heat Miser,” Waiting For the Santa,” and “The Unknown Toy Soldier,” are a few of the masterworks the FBI confiscated during a raid of the studio on the last night of the recording sessions. Just before he left for Paris in 1971, Morrison told Manzerek to fight for the master tapes so that thirty years from now his concept of Santa’s Oedipus Christmas might be adapted for a hit Broadway theater show.
Santa?
Yes, son?
I want to kill you.
Rudolph… I want to… Aaaauurrghaaggh!!
Well would you at least believe that Pink Floyd has secret Christmas album called Candy Canes at the Gates of Dawn?
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