The Ultimate Showdown

Nothing much to say today other than last minute Christmas shoppers are absolute f***ing animals. So I'll just drop The Ultimate Showdown of Ultimate Destiny. Next week I'm going to attempt to put together a 2005: Year in Review so I can snob everything that bugged me this year. Hope everyone has a Merry Christmas, Happy Holiday or whatever.

Captain Jackson: Unmasked!

There is so much that happens in this world that I don't know about. I can't be everywhere and I can't always get all of the news. I know this, and I am cool with this. But every once in a while, a piece of news smacks me in the head that makes me say, "How am I just now hearing about this?"

Such news struck me today in the form of Captain Jackson.

Apparently there was an actual Super Hero just down the road in Jackson, Michigan and somehow this fact escaped me! And I didn't even get to bask in the knowledge that the world was a safer place because as I now find out about this legendary hero, he goes and fucking retires after getting a DUI. Truly it is a sad day, as I have both gained and lost a hero. How shall I carry on?

The knowledge of a forthcoming Radiohead album might be enough to help me force my way through the drudgery of life if I could somehow be assured that it wouldn't totally fucking suck. Come on, boys. I've spent your last two records having discussions with other fans about your latest jaunt that involve all of the following phrases:

• "They're trying new things"
• "It takes more than one listen"
• "It's not easily digestable"

Look. I don't expect Radiohead to remake The Bends, OK Computer or Kid A every time they make a record, and I try not to continually expect that level of greatness, but for the love of porn, give me something that has some re-listen value. I'm sorry, but Amnesiac was awful and Hail to the Thief seemed like a bizarre homage to Pink Floyd at times. I refuse to believe you've shot your wad, and I will still be in line to buy your next masterpiece/exercise in craptacularity. But stop making me and other fans come up with excuses for you. And maybe bring that tour to Detroit. I'm not driving to Canada just to see you.

I hate myself for doing this. I swore that no matter what, I would not mention Pete Dipshit "Babyshambles" Doherty in this blog, ever. But apparently he's like a virus to which all bloggers are susceptible. NME had to post that picture along with their hour-by-hour coverage of whatever this ass clown is doing. That picture just ain't right, although he does seem to be moving on from Kate Moss.

I honestly have no idea what that last article was even about.

In order to balance the universal karmic coolness that was the release of Pitchfork's Top 50 Albums, Rolling Stone had to go and release their ultimately lame Top 50 Records of 2005. I have two words for Kanye West at #1: No. NO!

I also have two words for this: Dear...Barbara (in my best Vince Vaughn). Whitney over at Pop Candy posted the link to...whatever the hell that is. Yeesh.

I'm done and I'm off work for the holidays. I'm going to go put on the Thong Song and tear this place apart. Maybe get around to reshaping this site around while I'm at it.

Trying to stay awake

Short entry today. I'm still exhausted from staying up to watch last night's Nip/Tuck finale. It was totally worth it. That whole end sequence was just nuts.

Apparently some of the alleged secret prisons that may or may not be being used to interrogate terrorists may or may not being using Eminem music to torture them. When you consider that Nickelback and Ashlee Simspson not only exist, but continue to record albums, you'd think "torture" could be accomplished much more effectively. 24 straight hours of Eminem (short of Cleaning Out My Closet) would just make me rock out. 24 hours of Nickelback would make me want to puncture my eardrums with a flat-head screwdriver.

I totally dig Amazon.com's Recommendations based on my purchasing patterns, the stuff I own and how I rate it. After each suggestion, they are even good enough to tell me why they suggest each item. But to suggest that I'd want to buy an Aphex Twin album because I worship at the feet of Slowdive? The fuck?

It's Pitchfork's Top 50 List!

Oh happy day! Pitchfork released their Top 50 Albums of 2005 and validated my existence for another year. No surprise that Sufjan Stevens got #1.

For the record, I own exactly five records from that list. But that number will hopefully grow by ten or more by the end of the year (when I plan to submit my own list).

Some notable omissions: Takk... by Sigur Ros, Face the Truth by Steven Malkmus, and The Wilderness's self-titled debut.

And Kanye West at #2? Uh...no. Sorry Kanye. The first half of Late Registration is pretty tight, but the second half is totally weak. I got so bored I barely made it to the end. "Gold Digger" is witty and novel, but it can't carry your ass. No Grammy and no love from TSM. I admit that I don't buy that much hip hop in any given year, but DangerDoom's The Mouse and the Mask was way better.

Terrific. I have to buy another record.

The Music Genome Project's Pandora website is pretty much the worst thing that has ever happened to me. It is simultaneously the greatest invention ever.

The last thing I need is a website that allows me to type in the names of the bands and songs I dig and have it spit out new bands and songs that I might also dig. But here we are. While some of the connections the project makes are ones that I would never have thought of (The Twilight Singers ---> Bette Midler?), others are disgustingly effective.

Case and point: today at lunch I typed in Clap Your Hands Say Yeah. It started spitting music back at me. Some got the thumbs up, some got the thumbs down. Then it just had to go and hit me with a song by The Hold Steady (some song about hornets...I don't know). I've been reading about these guys for months and it's always the same old thing: great garage rock. Personally, I've had enough garage rock. Any of my three readers should be able to tell that at this point, I'd like the White Stripes to go back into the garage, shut the door and start the car. Needless to say, I didn't run out to check out The Hold Steady armed with that info or it's ubiquitous appearances on many of the end of year Best of 2005 lists I've been seeing.

But now, I've heard the hornet song. And god damn it...it just had to go and be fucking great. So thanks to Pandora, I have to have that CD. Terrific.

The Mondays

Kudos to the fans of the Detroit Lions for not rioting before, during or after yesterday's debacle against the Bengals. I lost five bucks on your restraint.

I don't know why anyone would go to NME for music news. If the headlines aren't proclaiming Smith's-reunions-without-Moz, they're proclaiming new Pixies's albums that are actually just new compilations of live material from the eternal reunion tour on which Black Francis et al. have embarked. Whoever keeps writing these bait and switch headlines needs to be kicked in the nuts.

And if that wasn't bad enough, they had the gall to publish a list claiming to be the Best Tracks of 2005 with "Blue f'ing Orchid" by the White Stripes at the top of the list. Hey Jack and Meg -- you've exhausted the whole minimalism thing; it's time to hire a bass player. Remind me not to care the next time you puke up another album that clearly shows the limitations of a 2 piece. Just ask Local H.

I take small consolation in the fact that the staggeringly awesome "Rebellion (Lies)" by the Arcade Fire was third when it only ranked #24 on Pitchfork's vastly-superior-despite-this-fact Top 50 Singles of 2005 List. And I'm all about the love that LCD Soundsystem's "Daft Punk is Playing at my House" has been getting.

Back later. Ciao.

Yoko done gone loco...

Just when you thought that Yoko Ono couldn't exploit John Lennon's legacy any further, she somehow manages to find a way to cross the line from dry-humping said legacy to ass-raping it. I can't begin to imagine what drove her to think that the world needed talking John Lennon action figures, but here they come.

I must have missed the clamoring from Lennon's fans demanding something that would spout "authentic John Lennon phrases" when set off by the motion of a nearby G.I. Joe. Sometimes, I get the impression that Yoko would sell Lennon's blood and sperm (mixed or unmixed) if she had the means. Everything's for sale and it's to honor John. Let's keep honoring him by making Yoko even more stupidly rich. Because God knows, the poor woman needs the money. What, is the bitch freebasing moon rocks?

Better blogs for a better mood...

Ok. Now that I've gotten Skip temporarily out of my system (poor choice of words) I can get back to more reasonable non sequiturs.

I just added two new blogs to the Better Blogs Than Mine section. THE TEST PILOT and gorilla vs. bear are two really excellent music blogs I found recently. Both of them had great "Indie Rock Christmas" compilations that I can't recommend enough. I was torn about whether to put them in the Sites That Tell Me What Was Cool Yesterday section since they do just that, but they are blogs and most definitely are better than this one, so that's where they landed. Check 'em out. (both found on Pop Candy)

Skip Bayless is a Virulent Douche

When I created TSM, it wasn't my intention to have it be sports-centric, but when life gives you lettuce and tomatoes, apparently you're forced to make salad.

And Skip Bayless of ESPN is doing a great job of providing the vinegar dressing for that salad. This man, without a doubt, the worst writer/personality that ESPN employs. On a good day, he makes Scoop Jackson look like Hemingway or Woody Paige look like the captain of the local high school debate team, depending on whether you're reading Page 2 or watching Cold Pizza. The man should be ashamed every time he steps in front of a keyboard.

In this particular "article", he seems to think that the mere presence of Pat Riley as coach of the Miami Heat suddenly makes them the favorite in the East. Now, my Pistons-bias aside, Riles ain't gonna make that much of a difference. Oooh...he's going to run the offense through Shaq. Oooh...he can seamlessly integrate Antoine Walker, Gary Payton and Jason Williams. Can he mystically create a three-point shooter that can spread the floor so Dwyane Wade can actually drive the lane and appear as effective as he was last year?

Didn't think so.

Not only was Skippy slobbering all over Riles' man-stick, he was utterly hating on Stan Van "3000" Gundy. All Stan did was take over when Riles decided he didn't want to coach the Heat without Alonzo Mourning and get the team to the playoffs after losing their first 7 games. Then, he got them to the brink of the finals last year. And yes, despite my loyalty to the hometown 'Stones, I will readily admit that the Heat would have made the Finals with a healthy Wade or Shaq. Sure Stan bore an uncanny resemblance to Ron Jeremy, but the man could flat out coach. He kept the Heat alive while Riles pussied out in the front office until he developed the unmitigated gall to think that he could put that team over the top. Stan deserved better than he got and better than Skipper put on him in his article.

Oh, and lest I forget, Skipmeister also has to drop a reminder in nearly every article that he was the writer who always said T.O. was a jackass even when he was tearing it up in Philly last year. Good for you, Skippy. You told us so. Apparently T.O. must have punked Skippy's girl when they were in San Fran because Skip's got nothing but odium for T.O. and loves to let us all know that he knew that shit in Philly was going to go down. Right.

So Skip Bayless becomes the first member of TSM's Virulent Douche Club. Congrats, Skippy. You get to write the charter. Just try not to load it up with T.O.-I'm-so-smart references, you miserable shit.

Il Manifesto

Blogs are everywhere.

You have to pass a test to drive a car. You have to be approved for a credit card. Paperwork is required to purchase a gun.

Any jerkoff can get a blog and pollute the internet with his or her thoughts.

There are blogs for entertainment, gossip, music, porn, humor, sports, and a seemingly endless supply of funny video clips. MySpace seems to house an inordinate number of goth kids looking for friends, thus providing proof of a counterculture to the already existing subculture (go no further than Gorilla Mask and the Daily Douche to see these and other sad examples of misguided narcissism on the internet).

Blogs are gaining a reputation as legitimate sources of information. Bill O'Reilly frequently commends blogs as "watchdogs" that keep the radical elements of the liberal left honest by disproving their wild accusations (point of order: most of these wild accusations also start on blogs). Other blogs provide timely gossip, new music recommendations, and other information that makes them seem like the place to find the "next big thing".

Fuck that. I can't deal with that pressure.

Sure. Paris Hilton might appear here. Britney Spears too. But I'm not going to scour the internet just so I can report on what they ordered at Starbucks or when their goddamned tits fell out of their dresses. I ain't got time for that shit. And their are enough tits on the internet without putting them here.

But I will let loose once I hear about it.

And once I think of something worth saying about it.

And that will more often than not be during the Sixteenth Minute of the fame that dies after 15.

And it won't be limited to tits. It could be about music, television, books, movies, news , or sports. Or even the seemingly endless supply of funny video clips on the internet. All media and trends are fair game, and none will be spared.

Like this. Newsflash: it's not a Smiths reunion if Morissey isn't there. I don't care if Johnny Marr and Andy Rourke are there. Maybe we can get an Afghan Whigs reunion without Greg Dulli next. Morons. (thanks to Pop Candy for the link)

Kicking it off

So apparently this is going up near Eastern Market in Detroit. I'd like to believe that the Lions' fans have finally given up hope, but I doubt it. People will still fill Ford Field next year, utterly robbing the Fords of incentive to...oh...I don't know...maybe ACTUALLY IMPROVE THE TEAM! The suffering will never end until until a full boycott of the Lions, Ford automobiles, and the White Stripes takes place (just threw the last one in there). But I'd settle for a Millen Man March.

Seriously. Everyone is getting on board with the Fire Millen thing. And that guy gets a million extra points for name-dropping Clap Your Hands Say Yeah and making Sportsline's general readership give a collective "The fuck?"

Anyone who's seen Deep Blue Sea (both of us) knows that this can't be good. We can only hope that L.L. Cool J will be around to save the day by offering soundtrack support when the mice rise up and attempt to kill us all. This is the end that the Bible Belt's been fearing.

That's all for now. The site design is going to be continually tweaked until my fickle sense of style stops driving me to tweak it. Until then, my hand is like a shark fin.

This post is a test...

Soon this blog will be filled with things that amuse me. Usually after they've amused the rest of the Western world.