Monday, April 5, 2010
Weezer Coulda Been A Contender...
So I just listened to the first Weezer album (blue album) as I was making dinner and building our new tenant's basement apartment, and I thought "Goddamn! What a good debut!" Then I got to "Buddy Holly" (easily the worst tune on the album) and realized that - because of pop-centric bullshit American Idol culture - THIS is the direction Weezer has stridently striven to emulate. Every goddamn Weezer hit since has been more and more tailor-made for the Buddy Holly jerkoffs that really think "Hash Pipe" and "Beverly Hills" are any good. Look, they're hooky, but imagine if - instead of going the horseshit pop-route - they went more towards "The Sweater Song" route or even the Pinkerton classic "El Scorcho" route! What a band it would be...
A Day in Blair's Life (Paris 2004)
February 2, 2004
Jitterbug Per-FOOM what a day to be living in Paris! This would be the prime-time full-on example of what a day in the life of Monsieur Bush should done be made up tuh resemble! Aside from that blissful tidbittery, I also figgered a reckoning be in order, and by reckoning I mean journal, and by journal I mean totally sweet.
There should be more frequent entries, by God by God, and this here entry gone be coverin’ a LOT of ground. Lots of intrepid wanderings by our nonsequential meanderer. Get some, spellcheck! Lets see…there’s a badass clown shop or some other similar jobber that has about a dozen or so fairly nifty and elaborate masks adorning its austere display window…superb thing about ‘em is that they sit on knobs with mechanized jaws…lemme back it on up a spell to see if I can’t show you more along the lines of what I saw, THEN we’ll ruin the magic by explaining it away, ‘kay?
I round the enFrenchened corner with a poet’s eyes and hasished mind…I scan a disturbing trophy-wall of some nightmare big-game hunter, renowned for his intolerance of clowns, movie monsters and downright creep-factors. Fine, fine…French killers ain’t limited by law of man or nature or nothin’, that’s fine. Only problem I gots with this wall is that some of the noggins? Yeah, they jaws still metastasizing or some shit, cause they’s chomping for all they’re worth. Bodiless or not, they’ll be cornholed in the eyes if they’re gonna stop hubba-bubbaing for anybody.
So, obviously the delightful, innocent thoughts derived from that experience were swept clean away by the realization that the jaws were hooked up to ye olde electricity, making them a non-magic lot, suitable for carnies and diamond-mine workers only. Still, a cool effect that managed to creep me the fuck out a few more times. Well, all the time. Okay, I take detours just to get a gander at the eternal jaw grindage, all right?
What else? The first hotel we stayed at was a Formula1, a wayfarer’s standardized, cheap and effective, yet very tidy, inn’s inn. Coded entry doors, full bed and single bunk above and perpendicular, tiny corner washbasin, lights that rotate on the divider between bed and bath areas (meaning you have only one fixture with a casing that revolves providing a lot of lighting level options), remote for TV encased in the frame of the upper bunk beside the light, so all of these things are within arm’s reach, a clock mounted to the headboard…basically everything a fella or gal could want, yet accessible, practical, and efficient. There are only public bathrooms and showers, but each one has sensors that wash and disinfect after every use, and they really work. Automatic lights and lock when you enter, even soothing music in one of the showers!! Can’t speak highly enough for economy here. This place rocks the socks. Tired, ready to read…more to come.
Jitterbug Per-FOOM what a day to be living in Paris! This would be the prime-time full-on example of what a day in the life of Monsieur Bush should done be made up tuh resemble! Aside from that blissful tidbittery, I also figgered a reckoning be in order, and by reckoning I mean journal, and by journal I mean totally sweet.
There should be more frequent entries, by God by God, and this here entry gone be coverin’ a LOT of ground. Lots of intrepid wanderings by our nonsequential meanderer. Get some, spellcheck! Lets see…there’s a badass clown shop or some other similar jobber that has about a dozen or so fairly nifty and elaborate masks adorning its austere display window…superb thing about ‘em is that they sit on knobs with mechanized jaws…lemme back it on up a spell to see if I can’t show you more along the lines of what I saw, THEN we’ll ruin the magic by explaining it away, ‘kay?
I round the enFrenchened corner with a poet’s eyes and hasished mind…I scan a disturbing trophy-wall of some nightmare big-game hunter, renowned for his intolerance of clowns, movie monsters and downright creep-factors. Fine, fine…French killers ain’t limited by law of man or nature or nothin’, that’s fine. Only problem I gots with this wall is that some of the noggins? Yeah, they jaws still metastasizing or some shit, cause they’s chomping for all they’re worth. Bodiless or not, they’ll be cornholed in the eyes if they’re gonna stop hubba-bubbaing for anybody.
So, obviously the delightful, innocent thoughts derived from that experience were swept clean away by the realization that the jaws were hooked up to ye olde electricity, making them a non-magic lot, suitable for carnies and diamond-mine workers only. Still, a cool effect that managed to creep me the fuck out a few more times. Well, all the time. Okay, I take detours just to get a gander at the eternal jaw grindage, all right?
What else? The first hotel we stayed at was a Formula1, a wayfarer’s standardized, cheap and effective, yet very tidy, inn’s inn. Coded entry doors, full bed and single bunk above and perpendicular, tiny corner washbasin, lights that rotate on the divider between bed and bath areas (meaning you have only one fixture with a casing that revolves providing a lot of lighting level options), remote for TV encased in the frame of the upper bunk beside the light, so all of these things are within arm’s reach, a clock mounted to the headboard…basically everything a fella or gal could want, yet accessible, practical, and efficient. There are only public bathrooms and showers, but each one has sensors that wash and disinfect after every use, and they really work. Automatic lights and lock when you enter, even soothing music in one of the showers!! Can’t speak highly enough for economy here. This place rocks the socks. Tired, ready to read…more to come.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)