they suck young blood

Man Man drink from goblets made of driftwood. Would I lie? These greasy ferals masticate with prosthetic teeth crafted from stone and metal! (Three parts shale, one part scrap tin.) Last year they wonked their rumpus on a hay bale stage just west of Cincinnati and cuckolded every dude in town. The lead brat once tattooed a buffalo dick on his right bicep with a butter knife and a fistful of sloe berries.

I fear Man Man.

Man Man, as we all know, developed from spores affixed to the ceiling of a Norwegian cave. In the spring of Two Thousand and Three, they set off for Amerigo on a collapsed refrigerator box with eleven de-winged birds and a week’s worth of salted salmon filet. Alfgheir, the youngest and weakest of the pride, died of scurvy en route. The remaining men dismembered him and constructed a xylophone from his ribs and spine. Alfgheir’s hollowed skull, stuffed up with wrenched out teeth and bits of phalanx, served as a crude shaker. Man Man played their very first concert that afternoon, 50 miles west-northwest of Scotland.

I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. They’d kill me…

the diving bell and the patriot

LAst night I wentto te PaTriot {which is a diuve bar inManhattwn, which iw in america).. and killed o ff all my brian sells wiyth tap PBr that probbly came outa tainmted piping which is. why I’ve forggotten how totype and operte a motor veicle. I don’t know whgo to blame for myu exesses so I[ll blame Hank williams(I, II. and III especally I.

i thinbk we chawed on tobaccr and drankfrom the spitoon but that may-ve been a(Pabst, fueled) drea.m Reegardless” or ireggardles<" whicever is the apropria.te terminalrfizing, my breath tod4ay is stake an smoke anb hickery Sauce. I wrastlled and arrestesd a grizzloed bear with mY bear hand s, but then he graf. THat was thr frault of one Jim Beam, a dastardl charactar who brandede me in te throat with watrer and fire. have you noticved

AFter urnating on thr wall and the turlet seat; and bacvkhanding a bartener cross the facwe for lookinb at me wit her screwey eeyeball; I preformed a one*man kick)line on the bar. some One sprayed mwe with tonicwater which was very funnby! but my flannel ogt all cold and wet And I begaqn to shivver, which wasalso funny. i gfrew a moustash in nine mniutes.

I am takine a vow of sobrietyh. my braian is to importsnt to me[ I’vr lost vistion in my left ey. damn you, patriwot. Aws I type this, the crackers are delicdious but some of the crumbs geto on my shirt abnd their hard to brush off. I lobve things.

Caljl me ishmeal.
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can YOU name two members of coldplay?

...
Seeing as I'm uninspired and brain dead tonight (but antsy to post something, ANYTHING), what better than a series of mundane, meaningless lists that will be brushed over by 9 sets of eyeballs before being whisked off to some internet scrap heap where foul bathroom humor and yellow tabloid rancor lie in spoons?

(All lists are presented with no particular order in mind.)

5 things Mike hates more than the dentist:

1. Shopping for clothes
2. Poor grammar
3. Excessive winds
4. Jeremy Piven (pic at right)
5. Fauxhawks

8 lamest band names ever:

1. The Weakerthans
2. Girl Talk
3. My Morning Jacket
4. Crystal ______ (Fill in the blank; it hardly matters what you choose.)
5. Gnarls Barkley
6. Any band with the word “fuck” in the name (e.g. Fuck Buttons, Holy Fuck.)
7. Nickelback ('Specially when you discover--with horror--that their name was dreamt up by one of the band members who used to work at Starbucks. Due to the pricing system ($x.95), he'd always give a "nickel back" as change. What a buncha wankers.)
8. The Disco Biscuits

8 greatest band names ever:

1. The Conjugal Visitors
2. The Butthole Surfers
3. Jesus H. Christ and the Four Hornsmen of the Apocalypse
4. Me First and the Gimme Gimmes
5. The Velvet Underground
6. The Celibate Sluts
7. The Mothers of Invention
8. Throbbing Gristle

[ed. 2/25: The The probably deserve honorable mention]

5 most pretentious band names ever:

1. Earth
2. Genesis
3. Nirvana
4. The Band
5. The Creation

5 worst song titles ever:

1. "Me-You=Loneliness" (Dr. John)
2. "I Think Therefore I Rock ‘n’ Roll" (Ringo Starr)
3. "A Lot Of Nothing" (Coheed & Cambria)
4. "You Will. You? Will. You? Will. You? Will." (Bright Eyes)
5. "Pink Bullets" (The Shins)


5 most overlooked candy bars:

1. Nibs
2. Charleston Chew
3. Whatchamacallit
4. 100 Grand
5. Chuckles



8 bands with exactly one (1) member that you can identify by name:

1. Coldplay
2. Blink 182
3. Santana
4. The Stone Temple Pilots
5. Soundgarden
6. Limp Bizkit
7. Nine Inch Nails
8. The Smashing Pumpkins

[ed. 2/25: Cary called me out on my bullshit. James Iha, of SP fame, is probably more of a household name than I supposed]

Worst writer in the New York Daily News:

1. Mike Lupica (This clown shouldn't be allowed to hold a pen. His columns are DISASTROUS. DISASTROUS! That's him on the left.)

5 strangest people Mike met while caddying:

1. Guy who played an entire 4 1/2 hour round of golf with Survivor's “Eye of the Tiger” programmed to repeat ad nauseum from a speakered iPod taped to his golf bag. He was funny. I'll give him that.

2. Tour Rich (Crazy-eyed caddie who overmedicated himself in the 60s but proved to be one of the, oh, 10 smartest people I've ever encountered. Frighteningly perceptive. My favorite Rich quote: "(sigh.) I need a break. Who wants to be Tour Rich today?")

3. "Gary” (A shrimpish mental midget with a penchant for coke, hookers and poker, this fella was a study in futility. My favorite "Gary" story (which may or may not be true): Three summers ago, he left OR with about $5000 in savings. He proceeded to blow (pun!) all $5000--and then some--on limos, women and pricey champagne in Vegas. This happened within 96 hours of his departure from Oregon.)

4. Nerdy lawyer dude who delivered the single greatest line I've ever heard: "Victory for Scott [his opponent] would require...an abject miscarriage of justice."

5. Frank (Angry cab driver who shuttled me to/from the Dunes for 4 years. Racist, bitter, misogynistic, greedy, corrupt. He moonlighted as a casino lounge singer.)

5 funny jobs Mike has had while temping:

1. Assistant to (topless) (gorgeous) female models during Cole Haan runway show.

2. Sweatshop work (de- and re-tagging small earrings and bracelets) at a prominent Manhattan jeweler.

3. Mailroom work at a University that shall go unnamed. Mike's mentor? Murray, an inaudible low talker with a stutter.

4. Coat check for an Hermes sample sale. 1200 bitchy, blue-haired, Upper East Side heiresses (see pic above) snatching up silk scarves that cost more than the computer I'm typing on.

5. Ann Taylor reception (42nd and Broadway...the belly of the Times Square beast) with a well-read, frizzy-haired woman named Lee who made me feel like an illiterate imbecile. "You've never heard of Fred Exley? WHAAAAAT?"

5 greatest television comedies of all time:

1. Seinfeld
2. Married With Children
3. The Simpsons
4. Arrested Development
5. Stella
...

farewell to a colossal stooge

Rock and roll has been dealt a mighty blow. Ron Asheton, Stooges guitarist and co-founder, was discovered dead in Ann Arbor early this morning.

There are very few deaths of this sort that shake me up. If, say, Robert Plant checked out, I’d probably spend most of the next day thumbing thru old Zep records out of respect, but not out of devastation; were Brian Wilson to make an exit, I’d spin Pet Sounds, but only because I owe it to the guy.

The death of Ron Asheton, though, warrants greater reflection (subjectively speaking).

The Stooges mean far more to me than Zeppelin, Cream, the Stones. More than AC/DC, Deep Purple or The Experience. When it comes to hard, bruising rock, I can count on zero fingers the number of bands that match the Stooges snarl for snarl. Though Iggy’s spastic stage antics doomed the Asheton brothers (Scott is the drummer) to certain anonymity, there’s no denying they comprised the calcified backbone of the band. I've always admired Ron's guitar work on the first two records ('69's The Stooges and '70's Fun House). That man just didn't know how to write a lousy riff.

Asheton’s death hit me especially hard today because The Stooges have been on my mind more than a few times in recent months. Let’s count the ways:

1) A mere twelve hours ago I sent a friend “Gimme Danger” (off The Stooges’ Raw Power) via zip file. She probably received it within minutes of Ron’s body being discovered.

2) I caught The Stooges on Aug. 8th in NYC. Pains me to admit--in light of last night’s events--that the following entry is entirely Iggycentric (he was, frankly, too magnetic; I barely noticed Ron and the other band members). Read about the show here.

3) I passed thru Ann Arbor (birthplace of The Stooges) over Christmas break to meet up with my roommates. The ONE touristy (see: music obsessive-y) thing I vowed to accomplish during my brief stay was a visit to the site of the Fun House, the band's squat during their formative years. When not eating acid or fucking off, they used the building as a crude studio. The Fun House no longer stands. Now it’s a Bank Of America. (I wonder how many people waiting in line for the teller realize that bong resin, beer bottles and used condoms once littered the ground on which they tread.) I drove thru town in the pouring rain---it was a nasty night---and parked in the bank lot. Sans umbrella, I bolted from the car and 360ed the bank by foot, carefully avoiding the sidewalk in favor of the grass. Seemed more appropriate, somehow. Anyway, my circuit complete, I got back in my car, flipped the wipers, waved goodbye to Fun House Of America and her untold debaucheries. Mission accomplished.

4) Legs McNeil's Please Kill Me: The Uncensored Oral History Of Punk, perhaps my favorite music book, has been in my reading rotation for a couple years. Ron, Iggy and Co. feature prominently within. I completed my fourth or fifth reading about a month ago before lending to Lucas.

R.I.P., Ron. I’ll be spinning your music all afternoon.