In a World...

Today is Friday. Today is also a breathtaking example of autumn being all cool and crisp and pretty and shit.

In the fine tradition of simply referring to other people's links on Friday, I give you...

SHINING
Watch immediately. [Link courtesy of Lindsayism]

And, as with every Friday...

BLUE STATES LOSE

**Music geek alert** You must be a music snob to appreciate the following nitpicking pathetic-ness:

Sometimes (okay, all the time) Bitchfork really sucks. This dude wrote an entire review of the new Children of Nuggets: Original Artyfacts from the Second Psychedelic Era 1976-1996 Rhino boxed set... and never used the phrase "power pop." Not once. WTF??

Strange Penis Tales

Is today National Weird Penis Link Day? No? Well, it should be.

First, Amy Sedaris appears as an animated penis in "What the Heck Is Happening to My Genitals?" from the upcoming film Puberty: The Movie. [Link via Kittenpants]

Then, Lane sends me a bizarre link about the difficulties of having nine tentacles. The headline, "Suckers for gay trysts, fiery females and rough sex - squid secrets exposed," doesn't even cover it.

Let's try to keep 'em in our pants, people. Especially you, your honor!

Gracious in Defeat

Hey, it's Friday and the management is sorry to report... that there is nothing to report. Well, there is plenty to report. Kate Moss, a supermodel, did coke. Uh, I guess that's... news? And a busload of elderly Texan evacuees went up like a roman candle because a fire made their oxygen tanks start exploding. Never before has the line between tragedy and comedy seemed so thin.

But this is not a news site... this is a way to waste five minutes at work. Well, the management is willing to admit defeat. You don't belong here. I got nothin'. You belong where we all belong on Fridays. You belong at Blue States Lose, fool!

Nothing is Kim-possible

The management would like to take this opportunity to officially endorse America's Next Top Model.

Having never seen the show before, last night's two-hour season premiere was a real eye-opener. First, the remarkably capable *bitter defeat* research team developed an ANToMo drinking game. The rules are simple. One must drink upon hearing the following words and phrases: "fierce," "work it," "bitch," and "America's Next Top Model." If you have seen the show, then you can imagine the devastating inebriation that resulted.

In addition, the show introduced Kim, the hottest chick alive. Kim's lesbianism only makes her more alluring. And no, it's not just because she makes out with other ANToMo hopefulls... although that doesn't hurt. Here, see for yourself:



Suffice it to say, ANToMo will remain the management's #1 show until Kim is voted off. Smart money has her leaving in episode three due to basic non-model-ness and being way too cool for the show.

Oh yeah... the LOST season premiere sucked. It was just barely enthralling enough to pierce the thick haze of alcohol. That, frankly, is not difficult. Possible Shark Jumpage.

Bunnies!

The management has a thing for bunnies. Yeah, bunnies. Fuck you.

Anyway, this 200-foot-long pink bunny is amazing. It's like Christo and Jeanne-Claude, Jeff Koons, and Yoshitomo Nara had a giant cuddly child in the mountains of northern Italy. [Link via Tobyspinks]

Kate and Kevin, the genius designers at DresserJohnson, also have a live Bun-Cam of their bunny, Roebling. [It's a beta page, but it still works as of this afternoon.]

And let's not forget the Baltimore Urban Captive bunny.

Speaking of rabbit political prisoners, whatever happened to Toby??? Hmmmm... apparently he has just over one year to live.

"You Fuckin' Broke My Sitar!"

The Brian Jonestown Massacre done got they gear stole. It does not appear that any of Anton's sitars were taken, but five'll get you ten he still pitched a level-9 artiste tantrum.

The Epic Saga of a Long Weekend

Unless you've been living under a rock (or you live outside New York City... or maybe you're just not a blog-happy indie-yuppie), you've undoubtedly heard the glorious tale of David Bowie at the Arcade Fire show in Central Park last Thursday. (Many pics available at Brooklyn Vegan and the 'Gum mentioned it, too.) Anyway, it was pretty cool, although the sound at the Summerstage bandshell is seriously ass. Seeing bowie perform "Queen Bitch," regardless of who his backing musicians are, is pretty goddamn great, so it still gets a "Holy Shit."

Once again, Matt provides some photographic evidence:



Next morning it was off to Baltimore for front-row, third base seats at the Orioles/Devil Rays game. (Unfortunately, a hazardous materials spill closed the New Jersey Turnpike in both directions, so we spent all day in the car.) Seats were this close to the field:



Sarah met The Oriole...



...on the way to the...



Saturday was the Hampdenfest street fair in beautiful Hampden. Two... count em... two John Waters sightings. I also finally bought a copy of Dirty Found #1. There were also weird cars...



...and captive urban animals

Not If You Were the Last Punk Club on Earth

Last night the Dandy Warhols did their game best to pay fitting tribute during what could be one of the last live performances at CBGBs. Courtney's voice was shot to hell, many of the best keyboard parts were inexplicably filled by a live trumpet player(!?), and a couple guitar strings went "pop," but it was a very good time nonetheless. Nice crowd, excellent vibe from the band, and teriffic sound. Plus they rocked "I Love You" (from The Dandy Warhols Come Down) so goddamn hard that it made the whole show worth it.

Zia McCabe closed the show by herself with the most adorable CBGB tribute imaginable: an a capella cover of the Velvet Underground's "After Hours." She was toally off key and got most of the words wrong. It was perfect. She did not, unfortunately, take her top off. (Zia has been known to perform topless in the past, just for the hell of it.) She is far and away the hottest rock chick on the planet.

Here are pix, courtesy of Matt:







Also, as it may not be around much longer, marvel at the beauty of the CBGB men's toilet.



Two other items:

Robert Wise died yesterday. In addition to directing The Day the Earth Stood Still, West Side Story, The Haunting, The Sound of Music, and, unfortunately, Star Trek The Motion Picture, Wise was also the editor of Citizen Kane and The Magnificent Ambersons. Check out the NY Times obit.

And any fan of sports, lesbians, or lesbian sports should read Jay Mohr's hilarious piss-take on the WNBA. Apparently the WNBA finals are going on right now. Who knew?? I'm not a Jay Mohr fan (how many times can you do the same Andrew McCarthy impression?), but this is decent stuff.

Note to Self: Stop Blogging, Start Pitching.

The management bitches about it, this guy writes about it in The New Republic. Shit. [Link via Stereogum]

"I'm a Doctor...of Pussyology"

Want to know everything there is to know about wooing the fairer sex? Then you should seek the expert advice of Eugene Mirman.

**TOTALLY UNRELATED UPDATE** Re: feedback about the recent sparsity of *bitter defeat* posts.

More important shit has been going on lately, okay?

Tonight the management will attend a Dandy Warhols show at the soon-to-be defunct CBGB. Mixed feelings, really, about the closure. On the one hand, the venue itself, while a rock 'n' roll landmark, has been featuring mostly crap bands for about 15 years now. On the other hand, the Bowery already looks terrible enough without another eyesore new building, and I don't believe this "helping the homeless" line for a fucking millisecond.

In the end, perhaps Joseph Gardener, Stereo Installer, put it best in The Onion: "If I ever miss CBGB's, I'll put on a shitty band's self-released CD, drink a $6 Budweiser, and piss all over myself."

A full show report (as well as a report on tomorrow night's Arcide Fire show) will follow in due time. Until then, you should probably keep on rockin' in the free world or something.

Harvey Danger Are Giving Away Their New Album

Well DUH. Nobody was going to fucking buy it.

I'm sure we'll be getting some freebies from Third Eye Blind, Better than Ezra, 311, Len, and Smashmouth in the near future as well.

An Open Letter to Sarah Silverman

Dear Sarah,

I want to make hilarious babies with you. Jimmy Kimmel seems like a really nice guy, but he's also short, chubby, not really cute, and, like, fourth in the late-night ratings. I, on the other hand, am the perfect match for you. My psychic adviser has confirmed this on several occasions. Lady Starr -- my close friend and personal conduit to the psychic realm -- said she definitely saw romance with a special someone in my future. She said she was getting an "F" or a "V," and that she saw "running water." It was amazing! "F" is obviously for "funny," which you most certainly are. And there's a "V" right there in the middle of Silverman! I figure running water refers to the fact that you make me laugh so hard that I pee myself constantly. Seriously. Those adult diapers are surprisingly expensive! I wish I could stop thinking about you so much, because between the constant pants-wetting and Lady Starr's rates ($2 for the fist minute, $.95 for each additional minute), my paycheck from Mail Boxes Etc. can hardly keep up!

I'm so happy for you that they've given you Dave Chappelle's old job. You certainly deserve it. You deserve any job you want. I will give you anything you want. Really. Want me to kill someone? I will. I think about killing for you all the time.

Anyway, I have to get going. The lunchtime rush is about to start and those UPS shipments can't pack themselves!

I love you and want you to have our unbelievably talented and funny children. Also, I would let you lick jelly off my penis whenever you want. Really. Anything to keep you happy and fulfilled.

I love you, Sarah Silverman.

Love,

Steven Wertz, Assistant Manager, Mail Boxes Etc.

Are You Ready for Some Footballllll??

I know I am... since Kanye West is playing the NFL's free kickoff concert. Kanye swears he's not gonna drop any more bombs, but one can always hope. Every blogger on god's green Earth has already sounded off on this (Lindsayism has posted some related goodies), so no further comments are necessary. It's nice to see that Jigga's got Kanye's back, though.

On a slightly related note... Why, exactly, is football season starting? After 9/11, the season was postponed despite the fact that no venues were actually affected in any way. In this case, however, both the New Orleans Saints and the Houston Texans are without a stadium. Also, the death toll in this case is much higher (according to most estimates, anyway) and the lasting effects, especially in the South, promise to be more devastating. So seriously, why not put the NFL on hold for a few weeks? Wait! Of course! It's because if football doesn't go on, then the hurricanes have won.

(Are the Miami Hurricanes going to change their name? Probably not. If the Washington Redskins have managed to keep their name this long, nothing is verboten.)

Other, less sober music stuff:

"Everything Sounds like Coldplay Now" [link via Stereogum]

Antony and the Johnsons have won this year's Mercury Prize, which would be great news had they not beaten out Bloc Party and M.I.A. Seriously, WTF???

Get Back to Work, Slave

Lunch is the best part of any workday.

**Update** Special bonus video!!
Watch a giant octopus kill a shark. [Thanks to Lane for the link]

How to Make a Bad Night Sound Good: "Rock Stars! Nudity! Sweaty Hipsters!"

Sounds pretty sweet, huh? Yeah... not. Although last night's Brooklyn Shakers opening at Soho's Wooster Arts Space featured some beautiful art, it did not feature air conditioning. Crowds of free-wine-swilling hipsters + 100% humidity = unpleasant. And then there was the 55-year-old naked guy. In addition to his nasty gunt (or fupa, whatever you prefer), occasional semi-erection, and apparent elephantitis of the nuts, the dude was wearing black socks with brown loafers. Faux pas, my good man. That is just in poor taste.

The afterparty was held in a closet masquerading as a restaurant. Air conditioning, while ostensibly in use, was negligible. Sweating was, again, profuse and unattractive. The band, whose set preceded my "DJ set," ran over by an hour. Two additional DJs were scheduled after me. The three of us ended up with 45 minutes to split. Heavy record bag proved unnecessary, as I played a total of six records. Also played "Blue Monday" by accident. Embarassment and frustration ensued. Current shoulder pain a bitter and constant reminder of general discomfort and ultimate futility of DJ efforts.

Luckily, friend, coworker, and lifestyle consultant Patrick refused to let the night end on a low note. He advised continued drinking and possible starfucking. So, we returned to the bar at which he had earlier reported an Anton Newcombe sighting. Ended up sitting next to a very drunk, shot-pounding Anton at the bar, while treating ourselves to many $2 cans of Pabst Blue Ribbon, drink of champions. Also impressed cute bartender with extensive knowledge of The Unicorns' 7"s. Educated cute bartender on finer points of Dead Milkmen oeuvre. Left bar drunk and filled with the deep satisfaction of a mission accomplished.

Now it is September. September is Be Kind To Editors and Writers Month, International Square Dance Month, Cable TV Month, National Bed Check Month, National Chicken Month...WAIT...overpowering feeling of déjà-vu...