And the angels in the heavens, they are wondering...Why am I so glad?

Last night marked my first opportunity to see Weezer in over 3 years, and seize the opportunity I did, taking Michelle to her first =w= show in the process. I should preface this by saying I am pretty much as big a fan as you'll find of their newest album, and generally among the less critical members of their fanbase. Is Pinkerton the best thing they've ever made? Of course it is. But that doesn't preclude them from making other wonderful music which just doesn't happen to be quite as good as it was. As far as I can tell, it's essentially impossible for a band not to have one piece of work which just shines a little brighter than all the rest. So, with that being said, here's the setlist, with some notes:

My Name is Jonas (1st verse sung by Pat from behind drums, 2nd by Scott)
Pink Triangle
Perfect Situation (with Scott singing lead)
Say it Ain't So
SUZANNE (complete with a wonderful a capella intro, after which Brian sang lead)
Keep Fishin
King (sung, of course, by Scott)
Tom Delonge greeted by a chorus of boos from MSG crowd
Undone (with Tom ruining the first verse, but thankfully being mostly drowned out by the crowd, Scott singing 2nd verse, and Rivers drumming the outro)
Pork And Beans
Dreamin
Dope Nose (sung by Scott)
Troublemaker
Rivers (literally) says "hasta la vista baby" before Scott takes vocals and lead guitar and Atom from Angels and Airwaves drums for Automatic
Hash Pipe
El Scorcho (sung by Brian)
Morning Glory (oasis cover, sung by Pat, drummed by Rivers)
The Greatest Man That Ever Lived
----------
Hootenanny:
Island in the Sun
Beverly Hills
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Sliver (Nirvana cover)
Buddy Holly


All in all, I was absolutely delighted. I went into the show quite skeptical about all the non-Rivers singing that's been going on lately, and I certainly had a few moments last night during which I lamented the fact that the others were singing his songs, but for the most part, I thought they sounded great, and there is no doubt in my mind that Rivers was enjoying himself on stage more than I've ever seen. Gone were the days of the nerd hiding behind his glasses and his guitar, stuck like a deer in headlights, and in his place was a charismatic, roaming madman, prone to use of jazz hands, jumping up and down, and making the funniest stare-up-to-the-heavens-while-orgasming guitar solo face I've ever been privy to. The hootenanny was every bit as amusing as I had imagined it might be, with kick-ass renditions of the guitar solos performed on trumpet, flute, and saxophone. The setlist, on the whole, was the most satisfying one I've ever seen them play, including my first opportunity to hear Suzanne live, and the first two covers I've ever seen Weezer play. It wasn't perfect, and I'm sure there are plenty of people out there who thought it sucked. But it was all I could've asked for from my favorite band, except perhaps coming back a lot fucking sooner next time. I've missed you.
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Fuck, even I can't resist this one...

It surely comes as no surprise to anyone who has ever seen her see an animal, but my girlfriend really, really loves cuteoverload.com and other such animal porn. I've always found it to be about 2 notches less mindnumbing than watching that dumbass cloud move across that level of Braid with the star up in the corner. You know, the one you have to wait 2 hours for? Anyway, she'll probably find it rather incredible to know that I like totally just ROFLed all over the place watching the following video (the fact that my desk chair facilitated the R-ing O the F notwithstanding):



Why is it I found this so amusing? Plainly enough...my cat thinks he's a ninja too. Click me for the rest!

Further proof that our world is doomed...

So, the world's most annoying no-talent assclown is at it again. Am I the only one who remembers that the last time we devoted any attention to this dickwad, he was not only a complete and utter waste of time, he also FAILED. For christ's sake, as Chris Rock put it, this is a trickless fucking magician. And one who can't even achieve the ridiculous things he sets out to achieve. He literally wouldn't get past the first round of America's Got Talent...much as i love that show, this isn't exactly the Metropolitan Opera we're discussing. I'm not going to sit here and say I want any ill to befall him, but I beg of you world, when he fails again (i'm praying because his catheter bursts and covers his entire head and torso in urine) let this be the last time anyone is desperate enough to draw a crowd to actually grant this asshole the space or time of day necessary to suck so badly at life. Click me for the rest!

Close your eyes and then it's past, it's the story of my life...

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I know I missed this one by a few months, but...wow.

What can one possibly say to this except holy shit, a football player who knows how to write. Who cares if it's terrible writing? He can do it! Click me for the rest!

He's a real reactionary...

First things first. I guess Brewers management thinks they're even deader than I do, eh?

On another note, disappointing or not, I saw a lot of encouraging signs out of the Eagles tonight, foremost among them Desean Jackson. I didn't expect nearly the scoring I saw tonight, but I'm not surprised given the caliber of offenses the teams saw last week, but I saw an Eagles offense which was as explosive and diverse as any I've ever seen, and as accurate a Donovan as I've ever seen. If they play defense against everyone more like they did against the rams than they did tonight, this team will have only injuries or itself to blame for not making a deep postseason run. And now back to regular programming. Let's go Phils. Click me for the rest!

Fly, butterflies, fly, around my churning stomach...

As kickoff grows imminently closer, something I've noticed is that everyone, from the national media, to the philly media, and dallas media, seems to agree that this game will get decided by offensive line play, specifically pass protection, and also blocking for the vaunted multi-headed cowboys running game, without any mention of Westbrook's ability to take over a game himself on the ground. If the Eagles have anything resembling the problems they usually do against 3-4 teams protecting Donovan, I would expect a healthy dose of Westbrook, in addition to carries for Buckhalter, Booker, and Tony Hunt, who could really win people over with a solid performance tonight against a tough group of Cowgirl D-Linemen and Linebackers. I see this game the way I see most every other Eagles game. If they can limit defensive stupidity, it's Westbrook's game to win or lose. That said, I think Dallas needs this game a little more, for no bigger reason than their exceedingly high expectations. Week 2 is week 2, but when the Cowboys are favored to win, it's always an incredibly tense, turbulent atmosphere. Home losses to the Eagles never, ever sit well there. Cowboys 27, Eagles 21. Click me for the rest!

I've got a hunger, twisting my stomach into knots...

In non-Phils news (for the unaware: Phils post directly below) I'm hungry, which means I'm cranky, which usually makes for a good blog post. So I'm gonna starve myself a bit whilst recounting my ridiculously inane existence. Most recently, I became aware of my hunger only when the Apple TV -- which is currently handling music to keep my computer from heating up too much without requiring the A/C, which I don't want because the breeze is so nice -- played "The Sound of Settling..." and my stomach said "yo fucker, your ACTUAL stomach has is twisting into actual knots." while I was writing my Phils post. Truth be told, I really don't have anything else to report. Dropped by the new Fiji house for the first time over the weekend, met a bunch of new rushes who seemed legit enough to me, witnessed the usual debaucherama (which, to clarify, is debauchery and drama, not lots of debauchery...though perhaps it was really a debaucheramarama? In any event, I think I've got the only word ending in in "ock" or "ama" which the MegalObamaniacs can't co-opt), in addition to later seeing my very wise, politically-minded friend Captain Riggs for the first time in a while who regaled me with tales of the capital and conventions, and who I hope to be lucky enough to visit some time in the next year in Oxford. Other than that the rain and the arrival of rock band (a night early, because I rule!) pretty much guaranteed that Michelle and I would be glued to the tv screen for the rest of the weekend, alternating between the 42 monumentally important baseball games played in the last 48 hours and the weekend's footballing, highlighted of course by the Steelers' riveting 10-6 victory over the Browns in what was left of Ike last night. Somehow, it was actually even less entertaining than the 3-0 game they played against Miami last year. I never thought I'd say those words, but it's really true. Anyone who watched them both couldn't possibly argue with me. This game featured football every bit as poor as that one, without any of the fun of sloppin it around in the mud or seeing a punt stick out of the ground like Punxatawney Phil. It's too bad I don't have a football game to be excited about tonight. Click me for the rest!

So here I am, it's in my hands, and I'll savor every moment of this

So, I don't know if you've heard, but it was pretty damn sunny in Philadelphia yesterday, perhaps all part of a grand marketing scheme in advance of this thursday? But never did the light shine brighter than during the nightcap of yesterday's doubleheader between the Phils and the Broomed Crew, as Brett became the first pitcher since my namesake and fellow southpaw Andy Pettite to throw a complete game on 3 days rest. And he did it in 95 pitches. He was essentially one Prince Fielder home run or one Astro hit from splitting national headlines with Zambrano today, but this ain't about bein a rock star and the end result is all the same. Somehow, by the grace of the baseball gods, the Phils have reclaimed control over their playoff fate. Would it be nice to win the East? Of course. But the wild card is now theirs to lose, and there are no two ways about it.

The schedule includes but three more games against a team which can even be described as mediocre, and 9 against Atlanta and Washington. There is simply no excuse for letting the Brewers, who play 6 more games against the Cubs, finish out the schedule with a better record. Don't even get me started about the disgrace it would be if Ed Wade, Randy Wolf, Geoff Geary, Michael Bourn, no Carlos Lee and the rest of the Rastros come from 2 games back. 150 games in, this team has the opportunity to make the Great Drought of '08 a distant, forgotten memory. It has the opportunity to make the 8th inning's metamorphosis from Mr. Tom's Wild but ultimately pretty effective Ride into the DurMadson Triangle nothing more than a post script to the story of what was, ultimately, a wild ride back to the postseason. The only things standing in the way are themselves, and 12 games with teams with a 200-248 combined record and nothing to play for, but nothing to lose. I'm officially out of the prognosticating business, because it's a total no-win from here on out...plus I have no idea what to expect.
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I'm so special!

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Tell me, tell me do you feel the pressure now?

"Play every game like it's your last." -Charlie Manuel
"We need to look at every game like it's a fight." - Ryan Howard

As if on cue, the cliches started flying out of the Phils' clubhouse yesterday with almost as much fervor as the interwebs and mainstream Philly media pronounced them dead following the previous night's ugly loss to the Marlins. If they can win tonight, one game at a time lives on. If not, it's officially desperation time, because anything less than 3/4 from the brewers this weekend is tantamount to a mathematical elimination from the playoffs. With Houston now idle, the Phils know they must win to stay in 2nd place behind Milwaukee for the Wild Card. Tonight's matchup scares me a bit, despite Cole being on the mound. He's blown way past his most innings in a season now, and is of course coming off a less than stellar effort. He's also now thrown more games consecutively on normal rest than at any point this year, and the numbers aren't disgusting but they're not very good either when he does so. Beyond all of that, the Brewers are also as good of a right-handed hitting team as you'll find and saw a lefty with a featured change up all of 24 hours ago. So here's hoping the Phils are ready to throw some punches in tonight's fight, because I don't think they're gonna win with any fewer than 6 runs. Click me for the rest!

You gotta...bereave?

I'd like to have something witty to say about the topic but the truth is it really just makes me queasy. This Phillies team, to put it quite simply, is not a playoff team. And it's not for lack of pitching staff, because this pitching staff is still better than it was a year ago, despite today's 8th inning meltdown -- which, by the way, is as easily fixed as Charlie accepting the fact that Durbin NEVER strands inherited runners. He's had a great year, and while he may be tiring, the truth of his recent woes is that he's been asked to be this bullpen's fire extinguisher and he's got an arm full of kerosene. Either get Brett out of the game, or at least go to the pen before the runner is on 3rd, but Durbin just doesn't react well to being brought in with his back against the wall. -- and it's not for lack of offensive talent, because even in what has been considered a significantly "down" year for the Phillies offense, they lead the NL in homers and rank among the league leaders in runs scored. This team will fall short, and in fact really has already sealed that fate with 16 games to play, because they lack the heart which their 2007 counterparts practically OD'd on. I'm pretty sure his name was Aaron Rowand, and I know he would never have let them spend so long going through the motions the way they have lately. They put on a damn good facade for the most part this year, but the grit just isn't there. The most glaring instances of it have been in games like the one they played Tuesday against the Marlins. Take a team's best shot square on the chin, get back up, and knock them the fuck out. That was the way of the 2007 Phillies, the team we saw for a couple hours about 2 weeks ago against the Mets. But in 2008, when the other team gets up from the Phils' best shot, when things inevitably get intense and the baseball suddenly gets played at a much higher level than what leads to the sorts of slugfests in question, the Phillies fold like a house of cards. They abandon the one play at a time mentality which allows them to fight out of a 9-1 deficit and start trying to do it all at once. And inevitably, fail miserably. Not miserably for them, they've maintained an impressive malaise throughout both the highs and lows of this infinitely compelling season, but miserably for those of us who have come to know it best. I never expected to wonder about the heart of this group of guys again, but I guess that's what happens when a team loses the only champion among its ranks, it loses the mentality of a championship ballclub. My only real hope, and there's documented proof of it a few times on this here blog, is that the one hallmark of the 2008 Phils is that every time they look ready to phulphill my profesy of a phade, they beat someone better than them. Click me for the rest!

Somewhere weakness is a strength, and I'll die searching for it. I can't let myself regret such selfishness.

After whining about the show's negative consequences in my last post, I felt compelled to compile a post from the fucking fraktastic Jack's Mannequin/Paramore show in The Park last week. So the headliners' setlists (sorry Phantom Planet and Paper Route...barely got there in time to hear "California"...which sucked without Schwartzman and that guitarist.) and a few waaaaay-distant photos I took with my phone are after the link, which I feel dumb calling a jump cause I'm not in the biz...whatever biz's jargon that even is. Perhaps the blogging business? Am I in that with this little black hole at the end of the internet?



Jack's Mannequin played:
I'm Ready
Bruised
Kill the Messenger
Dark Blue
La La Lie
The Resolution (new single)
The Mixed Tape
and Made For Each Other

They sounded great, and had a ton of support from the obviously rather enormous crowd, which surprised me a little given the Z100 signs everywhere. But Paramore were much greater, even while playing a set list very, very similar to the one I saw them play while supporting Jimmy Eat World a couple months back. Maybe I'm just a tool who loves them, but I can't get over how much more energy Hayley manages to bring to live shows than the already substantial amount she brings to her albums. Rock the fuck on, young lady. Their setlist:

Born for This
That's What You Get
Here We Go Again
Fences
Crush Crush Crush (which they've rearranged quite nicely this tour, though eliminating the Flo Rida moment which made my life worth living. Long as it didn't die in vain. Also...dude's name is FloRida...how is that not hysterical?)
Let the Flames Begin
When it Rains
My Heart
Decoy
Pressure
For a Pessimist, I'm Pretty Optimistic

-- (two dashes for the shortest and least announced encore departure ever)
We Are Broken
Emergency
Hallelujah(like, the one that's not a Paramore song) into Hallelujah (the one that is)
and of course Misery Business, which really fuckin made the sizable tween girl crowd squeal...but alas still makes me do the same. All in all a really awesome show, and one I'm sorry to have bitched about earlier. But seriously, my leg is a joke. If anyone asks I might even post a picture of the scab situation or even the band aid situation i got goin on right now. But of course the comments-only rule applies. Oh and to my one commenter ever, Chris, sorry I never got back to you dude, right after you commented, literally like that day, I went on vacation for a week with all my friends from UHall, and it totally slipped my mind on my return. I will be better at returning any and all future comments. Someone be listening.






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Each time you smile, it'll only last a while...Life may be scary, but it's only temporary...Everything in life is only for now.

So, it's official...I'm a derelict blogger. But with no one reading, I hardly think it's a crime. Sadly, the most notable things in my life lately have been the 904 bug bites I'm sporting on my lower right leg, thanks to the astoundingly brilliant combination of Paramore, Central Park, shorts, sandals, and, because she was incredibly annoying in addition to continually leaning back into me, forcing said right leg to get tucked back under the row of bleacher on which I sat, the rather large high school girl in front of me and her two competitively slutty friends. Fuck you all.

I've also finally really started the process of writing my Senior Project/Thesis/whatever you wanna calla 30-40 page paper on essentially anything media studies related. And by started the process of writing, I mean I attended my first meeting (of 7 total) of the seminar whose lone assignment is a semester-long research paper which eventually compiles to about 30-40 pages but must be delivered in many increments before then or else an A paper can get at best a 55 or so. I think my topic, which is due in a week and must eventually be boiled down to a single thesis question, is essentially "What Makes Media Independent?" with, hopefully, the most significant changes to be made to the wording of the question, and not the spirit of it. There's definitely enough there for me, given the amount of literature review required and the ridiculously vast amount of literature on media ownership, and, as a natural byproduct, independent media, and it's definitely a topic I can really dig into, and with any damn luck at all, maybe just have something compelling to say about it.

I felt like I got into a really nice groove writing papers last fall/spring which seemed to always come around to a decent point even when I had no fucking clue what I wanted to say while I was writing them. So hopefully, I can knock one more out of the park, boost my final official bullshit GPA a little more with an A, and finally complete a damn degree of some kind (damn you for costing me an IB diploma, Petrovic. The run of the mill one really feels illegit to me.) In other news, there are some sweet-ass brand name band aids (officially the greatest new tongue twister of the 21st century) with neosporinesque (neologism! score!) antibiotic ointment on them which are currently plastered all over my foot/ankle. Other than sometimes getting a little gooey, they're quite helpful.

Running out of transitional phrases here, those Phlailin Phils have their last best chance yet to come, with 7 games of their next 10 against the 2 teams they're chasing, the Mets and Milwaukee. I predict a 3-4 record and a phairly quiet phinal phade.

Fuck transitional phrases. I'm going to see Ben Folds con Orchestra and Beth(orchestra with ben, who beth and i will be seeing together, for clarity's sake. Not that Beth shouldn't be performing with Ben and an orchestra. Also, I should be linking her name to her blog...but I not sure how spell it.) in Philly on Saturday, which should be quite awesome.

And finally...I still have no job. But at least I'm seeing a couple old friends in the next few days. I'm still convinced that's really the most meaningful thing there is. It's now 2:32 as I wrap this up, proofread, and begin the interminable search for THE song lyric which sums up how I feel. Over/Under at 2:55 AM for clicking publish.

Okay seriously Apple, stop being so cognizant. Whilst I had music ADD and looked for a song which wasn't so sleepy for my lyric (at 2:37), iTunes, shuffling (not party shuffling, for true blind randomness) my entire library, has just given me THREE songs in a row with lullabye in the title (lullabye by Ben Folds Five, lullabye for wayne by Weezer, and lullabye by Billy Joel). It's not bedtime for me until 4. Any time earlier than that that i choose to go to bed, barring morning obligations, is my choice, and it's not yours to influence, Mr. Jobs. Your team of slaves is clearly picking my shuffle music for me somewhere in a bunker somewhere, thus creating the strangely cognizant abilities of itunes and ipods and iphones, and they wanna go to bed. Too bad. Don't make 24-hour devices if they're gonna not only spy on me but try and influence me. That's bullshit.

Oh, also, I'm clearly way too into parentheticals and I think I've essentially come to be a nihilist. But ya know, a nihilist who really loves ancillary cultural institutions like sports and movies which conveniently convey the most prominent signs of our imminent cultural demise. Nihilists can still vote Obama even if we think change is hopeless, right? I like the dude and I like voting so no one can tell me if I didn't vote I can't complain.

It's 2:49. Still no song. What all-encompassing song lyric could even sum this one up? At 2:55 AM I pressed publish. Click me for the rest!

This is why even Barack can't save us now...

There I was, just a walkin down the street, far too animatedly mouthing the lyrics to a song from Where You Want to Be when I saw without a doubt the most undeniable sign of our culture's demise I have ever seen. A pimple-faced geek of an NYU freshman (unmistakable as such with a bookstore bag in one hand and an NYUCard lanyard in the other), smoking a black and mild, wearing a t-shirt with road lines painted down the center, and the words "beatific soul jack kerouac on the road" in three rows down the center. While I'm all for the NY public library exhibit where the t-shirt came from, this child clearly has missed the point. Jack Kerouac is not a fucking t-shirt. Once upon a time, before everyone associated the word "counterculture" with a bunch of trippy hippies, it was a concept not entirely unlike dissent, or subordination. If you let Jack Kerouac become a t-shirt, you let dissent become a stylistic choice akin to being metrosexual. Take that fucking shirt off you tool. Click me for the rest!