Oh Snap! Oh No You Di'int! Someone's About to Get They Weave Pulled Out!!

The management is proud to present many unrelated links and news items today. It's all potpourri up in this piece!

The War of the Douchebags (see previous post) is on!! The Bravery have already issued a reply on San Fran's Live 105. As the NME pointed out yesterday, The Bravery vs. The Killers would be "the wussiest fight imaginable." Just think of all the slapping and hair-pulling! "My face! My beautiful, profitable face!! You smeared my eyeliner, you whore!"

Sign this petition to save CBGBs. Just what the Bowery needs... more apartments. Gimme a fucking break.

Here's the long version of that amazing Hootie commercial for The Tender Crisp Bacon Cheddar Ranch, complete with lyrics and analysis. Thanks to Paddy O'Furniture for the link. Man, I love the Internets!

Siobhann sent me this link to a .wmv file of legendary drunken coke fiend and lusty womanizer (and occasional TV host) Pat O'Brien leaving one nasty voicemail. I can't listen to Windows Media, so let me know if it's any good.

Also, while reading about Lebowski Fest West, I came across this little etymological nugget. Those people at NPR! Such a bunch of smarties. Oh and by the way, everyone should join me at the April 20 screening of The Big Lebowski at MoMA. That's right... The Museum of Modern Art is showing Lebowski on 4/20! Who says museum curators don't know about gravity bongs and late-night Arby's runs? Which Lebowski character are you?

Finally, come to Low-Life tonight at Rififi. The Secret Squares will be in full effect.

War of the Douchebags: An Epic Battle of Wits between Two Marginally Talented Bands

Vs.

In a move that recalls the infamous "Blur vs. Oasis" feud of the mid-1990s, Brandon Flowers, keyboardist, Mormon, and frontman of rock-journo darlings The Killers, publicly dissed criminally derivative makeup-rockers The Bravery on MTV Monday.

In a fine example of the pot calling the kettle black, Flowers intimated that the Bravery's motives in playing catchy, 80s-inspired dance-punk are somewhat calculated. Unlike The Killers, who apparently came up with the original idea of ripping off 20-year-old bands, Flowers accused The Bravery of bandwagon-jumping, charging that "[The Bravery] are signed because we're a band." What position this leaves The Killers in vis-a-vis Hot Hot Heat, Franz Ferdinand, The Strokes, and the countless other, better bands who preceded The Killers themselves remains to be seen. Critics will be quick to point out, however, that this feud -- should it even reach a mild simmer -- will nevertheless lack the media punch of the aforementioned Blur/Oasis situation because Blur and Oasis were both extremely talented, successful acts. The same cannot be said of The Killers or The Bravery, who are both made up of untalented, preening, poncey twats desperately in need of a swift ass-kicking.

NME also reports that Felix da Housecat and Thom Yorke are flirting with a collaboration. That would be very very cool. Oh and Bitchfork gave the sex-obsessed new Louis XIV album a 1.2 rating in one of their characteristically pretentious and self-important reviews. I like the album. All the songs are about fucking. For the record, they gave The Killers' Hot Fuss a 5.2 rating. I call bullshit on the descrepancy.

Finally, in keeping with yesterday's "horrify the Catholics" theme, I give you biblical justification for "dirty" sex acts. Go forth and get nasty, my children. [Link via Lindsayism.com]

Devout Catholics, Read No Further!

Thanks to tobyspinks for hipping me to the most ironic news of the day. In what would be the ultimate example of "practice what you preach," the Holy Father himself, Pope John Paul II, may need to have a feeding tube installed. Naturally, the papers won't draw any direct correllation between this and the Terri Schiavo controversy (aside from the OpEds, of course), but her parents are making their daughter's "devout Catholicism" the basis of their objections. Is this JohnPaulGeorgeRingo II's way of being down with his congregation? Is this the 21st century's answer to stigmata? "Feeding Tubes -- When A Hair Shirt Just Isn't Enough!"

I am not what most would call a political person. I am what most people would call an alcoholic person. Nonetheless, I do have a position on the Schiavo situation: Surprisingly, I think talentless and annoying techno-hippie Moby put it best when he skewered the religious right's stance on the whole thing. You'll execute retarded people and carpet-bomb brown people, but this utter paperweight has to be saved at all costs? I wonder about our priorities in general when shit like this arises. The poor [former] woman is a fucking vegetable. There is nothing going on in there.

The ironies just keep popping up: it's only because medical technology essentially allows us to play god that this woman is still alive. So it is in the name of god that all these people are cheering for the greatest sin of all... trying to be like god. Pure hubris. Hey, if it were up to the man upstairs, the chick would be dead meat. If someone can't think or eat, they should pretty much die. That's how this works. I won't make any pseudo-Darwinist claims about survival of the fittest as it applies to humans, because that involves a slippery slope that passes eugenics and Naziism on the way down. But I will say that brain-dead organisms incapable of eating on their own will starve to death. Or freeze. Or get eaten. That is not a moral position. That's reality. With all the hunger and immorality in this world, are we really going to waste food, electricity, man hours, paper, and breath on a zombie?? Oh wait... zombies can move and eat!!

All right. The soapbox has been returned to Dennis Miller. No more religio-political ranting. All this talk about vegetables and feeding tubes has made me hungry for asparagus.

**SUPER UPDATE** Ignore Nat Hentoff's shitty piece in the Voice. Check out Hendrik Hertzberg's New Yorker piece for the final word on the Schiavo case.

Let the Dry-Heaving Commence!

I am way too hung over to write anything of any value. (Because this site is where you usually come for valuable highbrow content, right?) Instead, you're getting celebrity boobies for the weekend.

*WARNING* This is profoundly disgusting celebrity half-nudity. You might want to have a bucket handy. Seriously, it's just gross.

Okay, you've been warned. Ladies and gentlemen, the management is sickened to present...

MISCHA BARTON TOPLESS



Also, could the bathing suit be any uglier? Did she steal a poncho out of the back of a VW bus in San Diego and make a bikini out of it? Alright... I'm not gay and this isn't Go Fug Yourself, so I'd better stop.

May your Good Friday be filled with Jesusy goodness!

Rock Dinosaurs on the Rampage

Apparently you're never to old to rock and roll... even when you really are.



Yes, in support of their new greatest-hits CD, Crosby, Stills & Nash are packing up their colostomy bags, programming the national organ donor registry hotline into their cell phones, taking one last swig of formaldehyde, and heading out on tour!! "It looked like they weren't gonna do "Marrakesh Express," and then, POW... second encore!"

In slightly more respectable (and infinitely more Spinal Tap-ish) news, Iron fekkin' Maiden is set to play some sweet classic metal at the Reading and Leeds festivals. I'd go just to see this dude rock in his shorts...



These dudes just scream "ENGLAND," don't they?

On the other end of the Limey music regurgitation spectrum, legendary vanishing Scouses The La's are reuniting for some UK dates. (Man, today's NME was like a has-been who's-who!) In addition to their blatant use of extraneous apostrophes and the sickening adoration of pop-obsessed indie-rock devotees everywhere, The La's are perhaps best known for that song that features prominently in So I Married an Axe Murderer.

Is that long-awaited Mike + The Mechanics reunion tour next? We can only hope.

Thank You, Haloscan...

... for fixing whatever was making it impossible for me to see your comment links anymore!!

For those of you who have been pissing and moaning about Blogger's poor excuse for a comment function, well... now you can find something else to bitch about. The old, faster comments section is back! That also means you lazy fuckers can start leaving comments again. It's been looking a little lonely around here lately.

Welcome to Alaska!

Remember when Gee Dubya won the election and all of the bleeding-heart liberals and licentious Blue-Staters started freaking out and talking shit about moving to Canada? And then Dubya seemed to be all "centrist" and nothing terrible happened and we're not required to kill a minority or praise Jesus every morning after all? (Threatening to invade Iran totally doesn't count... we all knew that was coming.) Well... let's just say that today Washington lived up to all that sweet hype.

You know how none of the other countries in the world other than Israel likes us anymore and we were supposed to be extending an olive branch and mending diplomatic ties? Right. Fuck that. Instead, GeeDub has nominated Paul D. Wolfowitz, the deputy secretary of defense, to head the World Bank. Umm... wasn't Bono supposed to get that job? Let's just say no one outside of the U.S. is going to be very pleased with the selection. Like, why not just nominate Sergeant Slaughter? At least he has experience in both global finance and fighting Cobra. (This article outlines Sgt. Slaughter's qualifications rather nicely.)

But wait, it gets much better. SUV owners across the country rejoice! Your retarded fossil-fuel consumption can continue for at least six more months! The Senate has really stuck it to all them uppity polar bears, musk oxen, mountains, birds, and shit by voting to open the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge to some much-needed oil drilling. YESSS! I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm puttin' on my sealskin jacket and goin' off-roading!! And tonight the heat's goin' up to motherfuckin' 11!!

The management prefers to avoid politics, but this is too awesome. Wilderness and global stability? That's for fags and hippies. Gotta go... I'm hitting McDonald's to try their new fried McDolphin sandwich!

Two Days and Counting...

Thursday is a very special day. I love St. Patrick's Day the way Mexican-Americans love Cinco de Mayo. That is, more than the people who still live in the mother country. Actual Mexicans aren't all that excited about Cinco de Mayo. Actual Irishpersons aren't all fired up about St. Paddy's either. No, March 17 is really a day for the Irish diaspora, of which I am very much a part. I am also an immature alcoholic. And I like House of Pain's "Jump Around." That's pretty much the St. Patrick's Day trifecta.

Get the lazy-person's guide to the holiday here. If you'd like a more detailed account of Saint Patrick's life, try this.

This year will also be special because, as it is a Thursday, we will be celebrating with a special St. Pat's Low-Life. In addition, it is the first day of March Madness. Perhaps obvious potato-eater Brian Murphy put it best in his excellent Page 2 column yesterday (emphasis added):

"There can be, however, no pagan equivalent for the majesty of the vernal celebration set to ensue this Thursday: The First Day of March Madness, On the Same Day as St. Patrick's Day. This is the Halley's Comet of party situations. I know it's happened a few times in the recent past, and it always elicits in me the same feeling –- unfettered, orgasmic joy."

Now I know all this preparation for sports, St. Pat's, and drinking makes me sound like a big frat-boy idiot, but... well I really have no defense. After all, the Secret Squares have already let their respective employers know that they won't be at work on Friday. Just come join us on Thursday. Try not to think about the fact that Tye swears up and down he's going to play a Cranberries song. Instead, focus on the fact that My Bloody Valentine is also a Dublin band. The Undertones, Stiff Little Fingers, and The Boomtown Rats are all Irish too. You might even see a fistfight when we argue over who gets to play Morrissey's "Irish Blood, English Heart."

PARTY WEEKEND EXPLOSION IN MY PANTS!!

You like that title? I'm feeling very 22-year-old-Japanese-hipster-girl-getting-ready-to-do-drugs-and-dance-all-night right now. In fact, I am seriously considering going to Misshapes tomorrow, as my all-time fave DJ Ilirjana is spinning. Misshapes has been banned for some time now, but I suddenly feel the need to get out from behind the turntables and jump around like a shithead with a bunch of trendy assholes.

Some treasures to share with you for the weekend:

Cartman from South Park telling the greatest joke in history (headphones reqd.)

The "Escape from Neverland" game

Please save Toby... or don't... It's funny either way.

Elektronik Supersonik (An oldie, but a goodie)

That was fun, wasn't it? [Thanks to Paddy O'Furniture for finding the links.]

Last night's Low-Life was a blast... Rififi was packed, although we didn't know a single person. This relative anonymity allowed the Secret Squares to play The Monkees, ELO, Toto, "China Girl," and several other semi-serious gems.

The management has promised, in the past, to provide more pointless list-making opportunities for the nerdier set. Y'know... lists like "Greatest Drumming in a Rock Song" or "Best Non-Sequiter Random Movie Quotes" or "Five Ugliest Pop Stars." Anyway, here's one:

SONGS THAT ARE MAKING ME CUM IN MY PANTS WITH HAPPINESS RIGHT NOW

They can be from any era, any whatever. They're just rocking your world for whatever reason. Don't care. However many you care to list. I'll start (in no order whatsoever):

1. "I'll Keep It with Mine" - Nico
2. "Let there Be More Light" - Pink Floyd
3. "You Just May Be the One" - The Monkees
4. "Yesterday Never Tomorrows" - The Stills
5. "She's a Lady" - Pulp
6. "You Live at Home with Your Mom" - Dr. Dooom (Kool Kieth)
7. "Don't Save Us from the Flames" - M83
8. "Tomorrow" - Morrissey
9. "Cold Hard Bitch" - Jet (yes, JET... shut the fuck up.)
10. "Snowden" - Doves
11. "Headlights Look Like Diamonds" - Arcade Fire
12. "Carry the Zero" - Built to Spill
13. "He Thought of Cars" - Blur
14. "The Jump Off" - Lil' Kim (feat. Mr. Cheeks)
15. "Sliver" - Nirvana

Have a pleasant weekend.

TONIGHT!!

You know the drill...

Man with Small Penis Sues Everybody

Professional has-been Fred Durst, apparently angry at the world for finding out he is a fat fuck with a tiny weewee (something we had all pretty much figured out on our own anyway), is suing everyone. Normally the management tries not to talk about people like Fred. The more Google hits people like that get, the more we have to keep hearing about their pathetic misadventures. Besides, Gawker is much better at this kind of stuff. But in this case, Mr. Brown Starfish is getting all up in my business.

Allow me to explain...

Among the companies named in the suit is Roadrunner Records Inc. As in "the same Roadrunner Records that accounts for 50% of my household income." Now the management does not always condone the activities of Roadrunner as a record label. Nickelback, after all, is a profoundly shitty band. But what matters here is that Fred Durst is threatening my cash flow. One thing you do not want to do is fuck with the management's cash flow. That is a fine way to get the proverbial cap popped in your proverbial (and in Fred's case, actual) fat ass. That is simply how we roll.

And so the management urges that you, fine reader, should boycott all products endorsed by Fred Durst. That means no more Von Dutch apparel, no more Limp Bizkit albums, no more saying "nookie," and no more T-Mobile Sidekick. That shouldn't represent much of a sacrifice for any of us. If it does, please stop visiting this site. You're bringing property values down.

**UPDATE**
Speaking of metal, it is imperative that you explore the evils of acoustic Black Metal here. There's even a Black Metal song-title generator! It's the evil wave of the future. [Thanks to Peter B. for the link.]

Even Your Computer Dislikes You

Thanks to Shannon for this bizarre story. The last paragraph is a doozy.

More posting to follow later, after the management returns from a torture and sodomy session with the "accountant" (i.e., some lady at H&R Block).

P.S. If you want to create your own fake error messages (PC formats only, I'm afraid), go here.

Random Bullshit for the Post-Thursday-Night, Pre-Weekend Brain

How do you spell sacrilege? The management proposes this spelling: H-O-L-L-Y-W-O-O-D. Either that, or we should spell it S-A-C-R-I-L-E-G-E. But the basis for all the indignation is... Neil LaBute is set to direct Nicolas Cage in a remake of The Wicker Man. Can you effing believe that? The spooky, hilarious classic starring The Equalizer (but not this Equalizer) and featuring the freaky-deakiest naked pagan dance scene ever (although that sweet heiny is actually a stunt butt for the then-pregnant Britt Ekland) is getting the Gone in 60 Seconds treatment. Granted, if you have to do this horrible thing, the star of Vampire's Kiss and the most dyspeptic, misanthropic director imaginable are a pretty good choice. That's pretty cold comfort, though. Also, on the I-did-not-know-that tip, Iron Maiden apparently has a shredder-rad song called "The Wicker Man." Doood... Maiden is so cool!!!!

Oh, before it gets lost in the shuffle... Thanks to everyone who came out to Low-Life last night. Special thanks to the DEVA crew for stopping by after their gig. We had a blast, although too much liquid fun led to a somewhat bleary-eyed finish. Still, I did get to rock my "Mr. Roboto" 7".

MeeMee sent me this story from Seattle e-zine The Stranger about the greatest corporate-convention entertainment ever. [Scroll down to the "Wednesday, February 23" entry (and be SURE to download the mp3 at the bottom).]

The management has attempted to maintain composure in the face of this Michael Jackson fiasco, but the time has come to speak out. The man is obviously some kind of perverted monster. I had no idea he had given children wine!! That is horriffic!! Even Hitler knew that children shouldn't be given wine... that's why the Nazis invaded France! I hope they lock that clown-faced scarecrow up and throw away the key.

Okay, last thing: Martha Stewart was (semi-)released into the wild today, beginning the "house arrest" phase of her sentence. Is anyone else shocked and disappointed that no one (not Gawker, not the Post, not anyone) has used the following funny and oh-so obvious headline?

"THE BITCH IS BACK! Martha Stewart Released from Prison"

I mean, come on people!

What You Are Doing TONIGHT:

Oooh. Same flyer... new name. Also, this week's Low-Life is the semi-official after-party for the DEVA show at Crash Mansion. Just be prepared. If this past Saturday is any indication (and if your a very naughty, lucky person), your night could end up like this:


Photo stolen from Brian The Designer

In other important music news, Gang of Four are playing a two-night stand at Irving Plaza, May 17 & 18. I'm hoping to go both nights and maybe get Andy Gill to sign my left tit. Also, the Walkmen recently announced a $5 show (16+?!?) at the same venue on March 28. Get those tickets while you can, as they are Most Totally Amazing Live Band Ever. Also worth noting: both LCD Soundsystem and Bloc Party have already sold out their respective April shows at the Bowery Ballroom. Kudos, you hipster-magnets you.

SCANDAL! PASSION! CLEAVAGE! PLASTIC FORKS!

Although the management does not possess one of these newfangled digital cameras everyone's been talking about, several of the sycophantic hangers-on who have attached themselves like lampreys to the underside of the Secret Squares' burgeoning celebrity machine do. And so the management has stolen their photos without permission.

Behold... scandalous images of unfettered abandon at Tye's 33 1/3rd Birthday Extravaganza!


Secret Squares on the wheelz o' steele (image stolen from MalibuStacie)


The management and Brian The Designer contemplate The Love that Dare Not Speak Its Name. Hey, who can help it? The guy does fantastic work! (image stolen from Chezzabellah)


The Secretary of Spousal Affairs and Chezzabellah (of DEVA fame) celebrate sin with thier lusty, painted lips. For shame! (image stolen from Chezzabellah)


Rampant sexuality!! So amazing was the music, so intense the Bacchanalian ecstacy, that heretofore innocent women began flaunting their dirty pillows for all to see. (image stolen from Chezzabellah)

Yes, as we screamed and played the Devil's music, the baby Jesus wept. Where the Secret Squares go, only depravity follows. And groupies. And drugs. And probation officers.