Thursday, November 30, 2006
Aries- March 21/ April 20-
You are meticulous and organized. A 'Can-Do' attitude this week gets you far. Yeah, I've got your 'can-do' attitude, right here: 'Can' I get a big glass of 'shut the fuck up' for my Aries friend over here?
Taurus-April 21/ May 21-
You are an effete intellectual. You put the 'Man' in 'Manicure'. It's time to take off your shirt and embrace your man-crush on Mark Foley. Oh yes, and financial opportunity arises on Friday.
Gemini- May 22/ June 21-
Special moments with a romantic partner are in store for you this week. The stars point to sizzling love matches and rekindling old flames. It's a damn lucky thing your wife is out of town on business. You go, Dog!
Cancer- June 22/ July 22-
You are ebulient and effervescent. You will go all racial with a friend at work a la Micheal Richards. Later in the week, you will beg the Rev. Jessie Jackson for forgiveness.
Leo- July 23/ August 23-
Suprising good news changes your plans this week. Follow your muse. This week, you will come up with an idea for a James Brown/Howard Dean Duet Album titled 'Yeeeeaahhh!!' Brilliant.
Virgo- August 24/September 22-
A pet will come into your life this week, even if you hadn't been considering buying or adopting one previously. On Saturday, you will drop Acid with Donald Rumsfeld and seriously consider becoming Liberatarian. Beware of cheese over the holidays.
Libra- September 23/ October 23-
Timing is everything this week. Blackmail may be in your future. It's about time to dig out that 'sex video' you made with Brittany Spears when you were both in High School. Money.
Scorpio- October 24/ November 22-
Hey, wasn't there an old Al Pacino movie named Scorpio. I don't know. I could be wrong. I'm kinda running out of jokes here. Uuuuhhh, oh yeah, call an old friend on Thursday. Yea, that's it.
Sagitarius- November 23/ December 21-
You will plan an excellent Holiday party, but at the last minute, Iraqi insurgents will totally ruin it. Damn terrorist bastards!
Capricorn- December 22/ January 20-
Hey, did you know Jesus was also a Capricorn? Pretty sweet, huh? Except no one worships you, you filthy Pagan bastard. Good fortune arrives Friday in the form of free beer.
Aquarius- January 21/February 18-
You will play the Handy-man at home this week. But, watch out. You will pinch you bottom lip in a folding ladder. God-Damn, that hurts!!! And by the way, it's 'Nu-Clear', not 'Nu-Cu-Ler', you dumb bastard.
Pisces- February 19/ March 20-
You will surf the net for Porn this week, but your wife will catch you. Why, oh why, can't you get it through your thick skull how to erase your 'History' button? Your old buddy K-Fed looks you up to see if he can crash at your place for a while. Two words: don't do it! Wait, that's three words. Two words would be 'Vanilla Ice'. Doooow!
Anyways, that's your Horoscope. Don't say we didn't warn you.
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
You know, there's not much these days that does not make me feel kind of old, seeing that I'm 'pulling 40', but on some days more than others events present themselves as more profound, or germane, or something, as to how fucking old I've gotten to being these days. Case in point: I'm listenning to my favorite sports radio station out of Boston ( case in point: I'm listenning to Sports-Radio! Dude!!), when I hear that The Who, that's right, The Who is commencing their North American Tour at the TD Banknorth Garden sometime coming up this winter. Okay, for one thing, the building where the Celtics and the Bruins play is NOT the TD Banknorth Garden, nor is it the Fleet Center, or the Olive Garden Arena... it is the fucking Gaaaaaaahdin! for Christ's sake. Hallowed ground for Havlichek, Bird, Russell, Cousey, not to mention Orr, Esposito, Sanderson and Cheevers. Even if it's not the same building it'll always be the Garden to me. But I digress. Frequently. My point is that the Who, or at least the two decrepit surviving members who have not since croaked from overdoses, will be rocking the Garden, O2 tanks, hearing aids and all, this winter on their, 'Loud and Unrepentant' Tour, or something to that effect. Is there no shame? What's next? ..."That's right this years at the Skowhegan State Fair, free with your Midway admission, British Invasion Rockers, The Who, along with Herman and his Surviving Hermits and Gerry and his Pacemakers!! Don't miss it"! Won't get fooled again, my wrinkly ass!
Anyway, later in the day, I'm out at the mall with this teenager, who is showing me around a store called Hot Topic, a seemingly trendy shoppe for wannabe Goths, Dungeon-masters and Baggy-pants wearers who like Marilyn Manson et al. Anyway, bemusedly, I'm looking through all the 'Angst-a-phanalia', mostly all in black, when I spy a CD on the shelf. It is 'Dead Kennedys, Fresh Fruit for Rotting Vegetables 25th Anniversary Edition'. Holy Crap, 25th Anniversary Edition! Man, back in the day I used to rock College Radio in Central Maine with those very Dulcer strains of the Dead Kennedys' wax. They were the all high holiest of Hardcore Punkers. They were the most controversial and most pertinent, we thought, band ever, completely obsene and completely caucophonous. To hear that my landmark album, with such hardcore standards as 'Riot', 'Winnebago Warriors', and California Uber Allies' was approaching a quarter century of existance was just depressing. I showed it to my young apprentice, and he was totally not impressed. He was too busy getting a free listen to Blink 182's newest CD. I felt totally irrelevent.
Anyway, I'm not sure what my point was, except maybe that proves my point. I do that a lot: ramble on, that is. Usually about the old days, when 'real' bands like the DK's or the Who still had something to say. In fact, they probably didn't, but there you have it. In either case, it reminds me of a song I wrote one time when I used to be in this band. It's called 'A Punk Looks at 30'. It made a lot more sense back when I was looking ahead to 30 instead of looking back at 30 as my halcyon days, but it still hits the spot. It goes a lil' somethin' like this:
When I was young, I was angry every day,
A lot of things were on my mind, I had such a lot to say,
Now the years have ground all the Punk out of my brain,
I just try to cruise along, never cut against the grain,
I used to be a punk, but I ain't no more.
When I was back in school, I was quite the Anarchist,
Always trying to break the rules, shaking my tiny fist,
Now I'm holding down a job and I let my hair grow long,
Can't even get mad enough to write a decent protest song, well,
I used to be a punk, but I ain't no more.
Didn't take me long to learn that the world was full of shit,
But I guess that after a while, you kinda get used to it,
I hardly even take the time to slam-dance anymore,
When I really think about it, I guess I was just a great big bore,
I used to be a punk, but I ain't no more.
Gabba Gabba Hey
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
New Rule: Stop giving me that pop-up ad for classmates.com! There's a reason you don't talk to people for 25 years. Because you don't particularly like them! Besides, I already know what the captain of the football team is doing these days--mowing my lawn.
New Rule: Don't eat anything that's served to you out a window unless you're a seagull. People are acting all shocked that a human finger was found in a bowl of Wendy's chili. Hey, it cost less than a dollar. What did you expect it to contain? Trout?
New Rule: Stop saying that teenage boys who have sex with their hot, blonde teachers are permanently damaged. I have a better description for these kids: lucky bastards.
New Rule: If you need to shave and you still collect baseball cards, you're a dope. If you're a kid, the cards are keepsakes of your idols. If you're a grown man, they're pictures of men.
New Rule: Ladies, leave your eyebrows alone. Here's how much men care about your eyebrows: do you have two of them? Okay, we're done.
New Rule: There's no such thing as flavored water. There's a whole aisle of this crap at the supermarket, water, but without that watery taste. Sorry, but flavored water is called a soft drink. You want flavored water? Pour some scotch over ice and let it melt. That's your flavored water.
New Rule: Stop screwing with old people. Target is introducing a redesigned pill bottle that's square, with a bigger label. And the top is now the bottom. And by the time grandpa figures out how to open it, his ass will be in the morgue. Congratulations, Target, you just solved the Social Security crisis.
New Rule: The more complicated the Starbucks order, the bigger the asshole. If you walk into a Starbucks and order a "decaf grande half-soy, half-low fat, iced vanilla, double-shot, gingerbread cappuccino, extra dry, light ice, with one sweet-n'-Low, and one NutraSweet," ooh, you're a huge asshole.
New Rule: I'm not the cashier! By the time I look up from sliding my card, entering my PIN number, pressing "Enter," verifying the amount, deciding, no, I don't want cash back, and pressing "Enter" aga in, the kid who is supposed to be ringing me up is standing there eating my Almond Joy.
New Rule: Just because your tattoo has Chinese characters in it doesn't make you spiritual. It's right above the crack of your ass. And it translates to "beef with broccoli." The last time you did anything spiritual, you were praying to God you weren't pregnant. You're not spiritual. You're just high.
New Rule: Competitive eating isn't a sport. It's one of the seven deadly sins. ESPN recently televised the U.S. Open of Competitive Eating, because watching those athletes at the poker table was just too damned exciting. What's next, competitive farting? Oh wait. They're already doing that. It's called "The Howard Stern Show."
New Rule: I don't need a bigger mega M&Ms. If I'm extra hungry for M&Ms, I'll go nuts and eat two.
New Rule: If you're going to insist on making movies based on crappy, old television shows, then you have to give everyone in the Cineplex a remote so we can see what's playing on the other screens. Let's remember the reason something was a television show in the first place is that the idea wasn't good enough to be a movie.
New Rule: No more gift registries. You know, it used to be just for weddings. Now it's for babies and new homes and graduations from rehab. Picking out the stuff you want and having other people buy it for you isn't gift giving, it's the white people version of looting.
New Rule: and this one is long overdue: No more bathroom attendants. After I zip up, some guy is offering me a towel and a mint like I just had sex with George Michael. I can't even tell if he's supposed to be there, or just some freak with a fetish. I don't want to be on your web cam, dude. I just want to wash my hands.
New Rule: When I ask how old your toddler is, I don't need to know in months. "27 Months." "He's two," will do just fine. He's not a cheese. And I didn't really care in the first place.
New Rule: If you ever hope to be a credible adult and want a job that pays better than minimum wage, then for God's sake don't pierce or tattoo every available piece of flesh. If so, then plan your future around saying" Do you want fries with that?"
Friday, November 24, 2006
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
T'was the night befo' Christmas, and all through the Hood,
T'weren't no Pimpin', no Bangin', no, it was all good,
Now the dead bolts were hung by the front door with care,
With my Glauk by my side in my big easy chair,
Me and my Boo, and a big bag of Chronic,
We had just settled down for a nice Gin and Tonic,
I jumped up from my chair to see what was the Dizzle,
What did I see out in my front do',
I could tell right away that the man was a pimp,
By the clothes that he wore and how he walked with a limp,
He had gold in his grill that looked like a retainer,
In his mouth was a crack-pipe just like Dwight Gooden,
On his head was a Kango, on his neck a Gold Rope,
He blew on his Crack-pipe and the Ho's they got busy,
Then he shouted out loud so his Ho's they could hear,
And he made a Peace sign and said, 'Bitches we outa here",
"On Keesha, LaTreesha, on LaWanda, on Whitney",
They got back in his Benz and they rolled out of sight,
But I heard him exclaim, the night air, it did fill,
"Merry Christmizzle to all, and to all stay well Chilled".
Monday, November 20, 2006
Friday, November 17, 2006
Somewhere in the night . . . Ivan Doroschuk sipped the sweet wine of vindication.
It is now safe to laugh.
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
Monday, November 13, 2006
The album is the latest in the successful series of “The Most…Ever!” albums and promises to break sales records set by “The Most Freaky R&B Album In The World…Ever!” and its successor, “The Most Repetitive Blues Album In The World…Ever!”
Turner has plans to extend the series with new releases each quarter. Titles already slated are “The Most Clichéd 60s Rock That Evokes Vietnam Album In The World…Ever!”, “The Most Songs From Teen Comedy Soundtracks That Are Mostly ‘All-Star’ By Smashmouth Album In The World…Ever!” and “The Most Songs That Hipsters Pretend To Like Album In The World…Ever!”
Courtesy: Rock & Roll Confidential
Friday, November 10, 2006
To read about a real pioneer of the Intronet, go back to this old issue of Wired Magazine, and get a new found respect for our old pal Muddah. Al Gore di'nt invent jack-shiiiit.
Speaking of K-Fed (we were weren't we?),
What with all the unwarrented notoriety given to Kevin Federline, nee Mr. ex-Brittany Spears, nee K-Fed, recently other erstwhile political figures, formerly full of Hubris but now lugubrious, have decided to spice up their images by taking up spiffy new 'Gansta' knick-names, just like K-Fed(since it's done wonders for him).
See if you can match the new Rap Monikers to the disgraced public figures.
A. Donald Rumsfeld
B. Mark Foley
C. Jack Abramov
D. Ted Kennedy& John Kerry
E. Ted Haggard
F. Ken Lay
___ 'Dem-Boys', featuring Pac-I-Fist and Cut n' Run
___ Rummy-D, or Da-Bomb
___ K-Ped (as in '-ophile')
___ Cash Money
___ Meth Man
___ Notorious D.E.A.D.
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
I really thought those crazy kids had a chance at love. But it wasn't to be so.
I opened up the Bangor Daily this morning(all the news that's fit to line your birdcage), and before I could get to all the exiting election news, I was stunned to find on the celebrity section that Brittany Spears, erstwhile Mouskateer, turned pole dancer, was filing for divorce from her 'long time' mate Kevin Federline, AKA K-Fed. I know, I know. I was as shocked as you. You could have knocked me over with a feather when I read the news. In this crazy, jaded, cynical world of American pop culture, one doesn't expect that these 'celebrity marriages' will last. But I for one, and I'm sure I'm not alone, thought that those lovebirds could stand the test.
Was it the stress of raising two small children under the unblinking eye of People Magazine et al? Was Brittany jealous of K-Fed's skyrocketing rap career? Reports had circulated over a bevy of groupies at recent WWE appearances he had made. Rumour also had it there has been friction coming from K-Fed after the "Booster-Seat-Gate" incident last year. One never knows. It has been recently speculated that Brit wanted 'Fed' to start sporting an old-fashioned Mullet, like all her old boyfriends used to do down in the Bayou, which, of course he vehemently refused to do, because it would interfere with his new 'Gangsta' image. Hard to say, but I, for one, would love to get a peek behind the velvet rope to find out what the real deal is. One thing I do know is this: If those two kooky love-birds couldn't make it work, then what does that say about the rest of us? It makes you stop and think, dud'nit?
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
Friday, November 03, 2006
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
to play some songs, maybe have a drink, maybe catch a little twing...
Well, it's alright now, I learned my lesson hard,
You can crash out on the couch, or you can sleep out in the yard..." 1.
The usual line-up of suspects turned out for the 50th annual Hudson Halloween jam last Saturday night. As you can see, you're never too old to Rock and Roll, though you may LOOK too old to rock and Roll. Laissez la bon temps roulez!
1. Host Tomcat Hudson and Bonvivant Bigfoot Chester
2. Big Scotty and Stix Spaulding
3. Who the Hell does that Chicken think she is, anyhow?
4. Hostess (?) Laura Hudson and Biggus Tommus
5. J-Bo basking in the shine of Bigfoot's mighty chin
6. Ronnie, who brought the Brownies
I don't think he was the first person to think the poor and uneducated young people go to war but he's the 1st politian to say it. Next he may let the cat out of the bag about recruitment efforts in the inner cities. ooops I may have spilled the beans.
Your a music lover- What are some verses to songs that say that same thing? "Rich kid goes to college - poor boy goes to work" - (kinda the same idea).