And the Award for Fat, Talentless, Retarded Self-Parody Goes to...

...this fucking idiot.



The Oscars were a major snoozefest this year... even by Oscars standards. It's sad when someone like Chris Rock is so obviously shackled by the corporate decorum machine. Saying "fuck" all the time doesn't make you funny, but it's a nice place to start.

Still, just about anything would've been a letdown after Saturday night. Thanks to everyone who came out to celebrate Tye's 33 1/3rd birthday party. Oh man, what a blast! Tequila shots, lots of LCD Soundsystem, sidecars, cleavage photo shoots in the bathroom, egregious backseat DJing (you know who you are), lots of New Order, not enough Johnny Cash (although "Cocaine Blues" got played twice... appropriately enough), free boxes of plastic forks, a serious debate on the merits of "In a Big Country," more bottles of Yeungling than you can shake a stick at, and "More than a Feeling." Diagnosis: Awesome. Scandalous photos will be posted as soon as they become available. With any luck they will be NSFW.

SEE YOU ON SATURDAY...

... or else!

Star Wars Episode Pi: Revenge of the Nerds

Although I have problems with many of the questions, I still took the time to complete the Music Nerd Quiz. I got a disappointing "72.22222% - Extreme Music Nerd" rating. Before you take it, be forewarned... it's not music trivia. That bummed me out a little. [I'm not totally sure, but I think I got the link from Lindsayism.com.]

So if any of you don't mind having the next Star Wars movie completely ruined for you, go to this site. Full plot spoilers, along with film stills for the whole damn movie. Now I know how Anakin gets all fucked-up and ugly looking, and I'm a little conflicted. It's the whole "eating from the tree of knowledge" thing. A friend of mine told me the big secret behind the show LOST and I really wish he hadn't. Anyway, you might want to hurry. There's no way Lucasfilm lets this stuff stay up.

Mommy, Can I Go Out and Kill Tonight?

So last night started out great. WAY too much Canadian Club whiskey at the opening reception for MoMA's new Groundswell exhibition. Nothing like free pre-drinking. Especially when you're pre-drinking for the Futureheads show at Bowery Ballroom. Unfortunately, I was called away on a medical not-so-emergency, and never made it to the show. Bad mojo.

Luckily, there is much to be thankful for today. Primarily, the deadlock has ended and Bacardi & Cola have been officially re-christened Secret Squares. Unfortunately, Tye came up with that himself, so technically no one wins. Nonetheless, I have made the executive decision that the coveted prizes should go to our clear runner-up (and it was really close). So our unofficial designer, Brian, will receive a Ratt album and an Irene Cara single for coming up with My Two Dads. Seriously, it was a deadlock that almost destroyed the very partnership we were trying to name. Okay, I'm totally lying, but that would have been deliciously ironic, no?

More on the contest later... first, THE IMPORTANT STUFF:

First off, tomorrow night we will be getting back into the swing at Low-Life, spinning records under our proud new moniker. As always, Low-Life will be at Rififi at 10:30.

And on Saturday night, it's the main event! Secret Squares will be spinning with Redboy and Mike Spinella at Lolita on the Lower East Side. The occasion? Tye's 33 1/3rd Birthday! Also, we will be paying tribute to Johnny Cash, in honor of what would have been the Man in Black's 72nd birthday. Watch this space for the official flyer.

Now back to the contest results...

Basically, you people all started smoking from the same crackpipe after the first contest update. Many of you remained obsessed with skin color, betraying either your lack of imagination or your deep, smoldering fear of black people (or white people). Toby's suggestion of Me & My Shadow caused the most uproar, receiving mostly positive reviews. We also loved the Memphis Radio Kings' suggestion of DJ Cracka-Blacka. Its multilateral racism was especially appealing. Siobhann came close to Han & Lando, although she never really put the two together (DUH!). I loved that one, but Legal Counsel's objections were easy to forsee.

The off-the wall suggestions were entertaining, espcially A.J.'s Ben Fong Torrez (if you don't get it, try looking it up). Siobhann gave us Quibbles & Bitch (??) and the why-didn't-I-think-of-that Boot & Rally. Boot & Rally would've been great if we played frat parties. Patrick came up with the brilliant The Forgotten Sons of Wilt Chamberlain, but it was too long.

All in all, this was pretty fun. Maybe I'll let you people name my next pet. Maybe my child!!

DEADLOCK!?!

Houston, we have a problem.

It's down to two names and we can't make a decision.

The Official *bitter defeat* Name that DJ Team Contest: The First Day—Stakes Is High!

First off, Haloscan has apparently disappeared from the face of the Earth, so *bitter defeat* is now using Blogger's improved comment feature. Comments are now up and running.

The pot, ladies and gentlemen, has been sweetened! Bacardi has added another item to our Grand Prize: in addition to Ratt's Out of the Cellar LP, the winner will also receive a 12" copy of Irene Cara's "Flashdance (What a Feelin')."

After less than 24 hours, the management has received a flood of entries in the Name that DJ Team Contest. Apparently many of you got hung up on the black and white thing, and barely managed to stop short of suggesting something as stupid as Team Oreo. Actually, some of the suggestions along these lines were pretty good. Lane came up with The White Darknesses, which is great, if a tad too long. Bi-colored food references abounded, as in Siobhann's Kaffe and Skim and The Swirl, and Peter's Francophillic Crème Caramel and Blanc et Noir. And two of Brian's suggestions—Chocodile and Twinkie and Choco-Taco—kept the humorous mass-market dessert theme alive. Others were less...um, subtle. Especially when one of us got the shaft. (I'm thinking specifically of Cracker and Tubbs and Jason and The Black Fellow.)

Food and drink in general were popular, because we were named after a drink before and most of you are criminally narrow-minded. Witness Bangers and Mash (Lane), Gin & Tonic (A.J.), and several others.

Some were just plain funny (if not downright bizarre): A.J. came up with both the surest way to increase attendance at our gigs (Hot Tits and Big Dicks) and the surest way to get us gigs in Chelsea (Priest and Altar Boy)—imagine the fight over who has to be Altar Boy! Other blips on the hilario-meter included Michael Jackson Slept Here (Paddy O'Furniture), Captain and FoReal (Siobhann), and Sit and Let Spin (Jeremy) (which I would shorten to just Sit & Spin if it weren't so goddamn gay).

Finally, there are the ones I actually like. Brian is head and shoulders above the rest so far, with three promising suggestions: Research & Development, Tomax & Xamot, and my personal favorite, The Toxic Twins. Now apparently The Toxic Twins is also an Aerosmith cover band somewhere, but I'm not too worried about any conflict. And Bacardi himself has come up with two I like: The Secret Squares and The High Scores. He doesn't care for the latter, but I think it's genius. It does sound like a Bay Area garage band (The Hi-Fives), but I still like it.

So that's where we stand thus far. On the whole, your entries have been infantile, peurile, and vile... KEEP UP THE GOOD WORK!!

The Official *bitter defeat* Name that DJ Team Contest!!

The shit-hot DJ duo known as Bacardi & Cola has decided it's time for a name change. Several factors have contributed to this decision, chief among them being the advice of legal counsel. (I swear to god! Thanks, Robb.) Also, people kept calling us "Bacardi and Coke." Finally, I was always worried that those unfamiliar with our work would see our flyers/e-mails and assume the venue was advertising a mixed-drink special.

Now I know what you're thinking: Those Bacardi & Cola commercials are hilarious and you guys are similarly suave and white/black. And you're right. We are suave and we are the sweetest multicolored duo since the black-and-white cookie. Nonetheless, it's time for a change. And we need your help.

**UPDATE: The preceding was simply intended to be explanatory... reference to the whole black/white thing is by no means a requirement.**

So here's the challenge: Come up with a name for an unbelievably talented, mind-destroyingly sexy DJ pair with a mean case of rock 'n' roll-itis and a sensitive, chewy Britpop center. That's not so hard. If we decide the name you propose is The One... then you are a winner and your mother won't be so damn disappointed in you anymore. Also, you win a gently used vinyl copy of Ratt's Out of the Cellar LP.

The fine print: First off, we reserve the right to not use any of your suggestions, either because they all suck or because we come up with something better. Second (and this is really annoying), something fishy is going on with Haloscan and I can no longer see my own comments. So, at least for the time being, you'll have to e-mail your ideas directly to the management. Don't worry, the winning entry (and notable runners-up) will be posted here for all to ridicule. On a personal note, I hope a New Yorker wins because I'm really cheap and lazy and I'd rather not have to mail someone a fucking Ratt album. It'd be great if the winner could just drop by the next Low-Life to pick up their prize.

Okay, so... good luck. Remember, we're counting on you.

And the Jessica Tandy Award for Dying this Year Goes to...

...Ray Charles!

Omigod! What a surprise! Granted, the Grammys' reputation as a pathetic sham designed to please 45-year-old white people was never at risk of being upset, but last night's ceremony still pushed the travesty-o-meter's needle into the red. Maroon 5 beating out Kanye West for Best New Artist was pretty bad. I mean, who or what the fuck is Maroon 5?? Still, it's a fortuitous upset for Kanye, given the bad fortune that frequently befalls those who win that award. Off the top of my head, I'm thinking of Arrested Development, Milli Vanilli (revoked), and Jodi Watley. Anyway, the whole "you're so special because you died" thing keeps on cropping up. I love Ray Charles too, but just give the guy a posthumous lifetime achievement award and give the other statuettes to artists who can still generate soulless shit for the masses for years to come.

Today is Valentine's Day. Tobyspinks has posted a brief history of the holiday. This whole "The history of Valentine's Day -- and its patron saint -- is shrouded in mystery" thing just strengthens our conviction that it was invented by the Hallmark corporation. And the Freemasons.

Over at Bitchfo... er, Pitchfork, there's good news and bad news. Bad news first? Okay... The Unicorns broke up! That sucks. The good news? Well if you put any stock in such things... they gave the new Bloc Party album an 8.9. Oh, and the new LCD Soundsystem album hits stores tomorrow, and you should buy it because it's great. It's one of those albums that makes girls take off their shirts.

Finally, ***The management would like to extend hot, lusty Valentine's Day wishes to the Secretary of Spousal Affairs***

Have a great [fake] holiday. And to all the fat, sad, single men and women out there with no Valentine of their own...

Last Night I Dreamt that Somebody Paid Me

Last night was not your typical Low-Life. Sure, we played the usual fun stuff, but at the end of the night something miraculous happened. The amazing Lindsay The Bartender said these magic words: Here's Your Money. That's right... unbeknownst to us, we had moved from the realm of the free drink into the realm of the percentage of bar receipts. Woohoo! So now, not only do I spin records and drink for free... I spin records and drink and they fucking pay me to do it!! That's like getting paid to have a big, satisfying shit on a Sunday morning with a nice new magazine and the sports page. Hell, it's almost as good as getting paid to receive oral sex. I *heart* Rififi.

It occurs to me that I never mention what we actually play, so here's a small sample of what my beer-addled brain managed to retain:

Bacardi: Pete Schilling's "Major Tom" (Rad!), The Cure, The Smiths, Ride, The Sundays' "Here's Where the Story Ends" (he started off feeling a tad whimsical), Nirvana, Arcade Fire, "Atomic" by Blondie, Elastica, Joy Division ("Transmission"), Interpol, etc.

Me: Controller.Controller and Magneta Lane... I'm jocking Paper Bag Records lately. Bowie's "Watch that Man," Bloc Party (twice), The Clash, The Rapture (twice... by accident; I keep trying to play "Mind Your Own Business" by Delta 5, and every time I inadvertantly play "Out of the Races and onto the Tracks" instead.), Rogers Sisters, T. Rex, Soft Cell, "Strobe Light" by the B-52s, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, and motherfucking Boston!!!

So, tonight all New Yorkers should head to Lit to see DEVA. A DEVO cover band fronted by two sexy and slightly warped ladies? Is that as fantastic as it sounds? Why yes, yes it is.

Finally, the management is proud to present this article about gay penguins. Thanks to Shannon for the link. Have a great weekend.

A Brief Petewatch 2005 Update

Pete Doherty is finally out on bail. Apparently British prisons are unpleasant.

Pardon Me, Have You Seen My Leather-Bound First Edition of Edward Penishands?

This morning on Good Morning America (hey, it beats the Today Show) Diane Sawyer took an in-depth look at... Deep Throat??!! In anticipation of Brian Grazer's NC-17 documentary Inside Deep Throat (which opens this Friday), the same media outlets that normally shit their pants in collective fear of the FCC are in the midst of a blue-movie publicity frenzy. Even the venerable Gray Lady herself got in on the (*ahem*) action. Never an industry to shy away from a quick buck, the lucky porn moguls who own the original film's rights are prepping copies for immediate theatrical release. The best part? Half of those copies will be edited for an R rating.

No one can dispute Deep Throat's sociopolitical import, but not even I was prepared for the film's eventual novelization. But porn is apparently quite the academic cause cèlébre.

PETEWATCH 2005 UPDATE

Free Pete Doherty! Pete spent his fourth night in jail. Won't someone just lend the poor bloke some bail money? He's good for it. It's not like he's a larcenous crack addict.

This About Sums It Up

I've felt better. Jack Daniels, Jägermeister, Labatt Blue, Miller High Life, homemade Buffalo wings, homemade chili, Velveeta chili dip, Rice Krispie treats, Janet Jackson nipple cupcakes (images to come), and 37 different kinds of chips all congregated in my stomach yesterday. The fourth quarter of the Superbowl is a complete blank.

Some post-big-game impressions: Someone should've told Donovan McNabb he was supposed to throw to the guys in the green jerseys. Mark David Chapman shot the wrong fucking Beatle. "Hey Jude"? It's a football game, Paul. And could you look more like a woman? Janet's nip-slip and GeeDubya's new America stuck us with the most pious, boring, flag-waving suckfest in memory. I can't believe one tit caused such a shitstorm, but the vapid glorification of American war-mongering is considered perfectly suitable for children. Bill Clinton wasn't looking so hot, but I still miss the guy like crazy. I may have been put on this Earth to get drunk and yell at the television.

Now I know the Superbowl has you convinced that America has cornered the market on being fat and retarded with horrible taste in music. Not so.

Do you find this cute? What about this?

Petewatch 2005

The management would like to expess its deep concern for the health and sanity of head Babyshamble Pete Doherty. First that space-twat Kate Moss dumps him via text message and now he's busted for burglary and blackmail after allegedly attacking a documentary filmmaker. Luckily, the poor lad's out on bail. **UPDATE: Pete will spend the weekend in jail after failing to cough up his bail money in time!! Can't someone save the daft bastard??

Thanks to everyone who braved the rain for Low-Life last night. I tried to play a lot of Libertines in order to create positive vibes for our buddy Pete (and my stepfather Pete, who was taken to the hospital yesterday with a potentially serious mystery illness). Unfortunately, my DJ abilities were at an all-time low. Same with my mood. I only managed to play one Libertines track. Pathetic.

The management feels compelled to comment on yesterday's major New York blogtroversy. The backlash from this article has been severe and endlessly amusing. In my humble opinion, you should all be ashamed of yourselves. If you didn't know that New York hipsters/blogeratti were manipulating you via their coolness/contacts/mind-control abilities, then you are a fucking moron. You deserve to be fleeced and your indignation is pathetic. That is all.

Also, here are several cool new things that you are now going to purchase because you read right here that they are cool: Bloc Party, Orbit chewing gum, the Volkswagon Jetta, Puma athletic shoes, LCD Soundsystem, this new iPod contraption everyone is talking about, Rolling Rock beer, VICE magazine, and the letter "U." Every cute female DJ who hangs out with Carlos D is totally into the aforementioned quality products.

This message was in no way brought to you by the companies that manufacture these products or any marketing firm retained by said entities. Really. I swear.

[*bitter defeat* is a registered trademark of Viacom Entertainment and Subsidiaries. Promotional support is provided by Dim Mak Records, Wrigley, Volkswagon, Puma, Capitol Records, Apple Computer, Inc., Latrobe Brewing Co., VICE, and Sesame Workshop.]

Hang in There, Pete... You're Not Missing Much

Mothership escapee/Limey überbitch Kate Moss has apparently broken Pete Dohery's crack-addled heart already. And according to the Post, the wall-eyed little tramp did it via text message. (Text-message dumping is so hott right now.) This mere days after the fragile Libertines/ Babyshambles demi-god professed his undying love. We're all behind you, Pete. I swear to god, if I see that woman on the street I'm gonna hold her down and feed her Krispy Kremes until she fills out. Then I'm going after Mischa Barton... just because.

In honor of lil' Petey's battered ego, I hereby promise to play at least one Libertines song tomorrow night at Rififi...



That's right, y'all! We're competing with Ulragrrrl's birthday party, so be sure to come down and show the hipster blogeratti what's what... by supporting slightly older hipster blogeratti! Extra special hugs and kisses to Brian for designing our new flyer.