Kill Your Idols

Sometimes the sacred cow makes the best burger.

Another Blow

Gert's getting a hog.

Damn it.

I Am a Child, I’ll Last a While

We were laying in bed last night, when my wife said some of the most horrible things in the world to me. So horrible that I considered making her leave and sleep in the garage. I considered that she might have to live in a tree for a month, maybe longer, to think about what she had said. In fact, what she said was so terrible that I considered, albeit briefly, sending her to work on an alpaca ranch.

What did she say? You don’t want to know. But here’s how it went.

“Matilda asked me when she’ll get her period.”

I didn’t hear much after that because I had the pillow wrapped around my head while I was looking for duct tape to affix it permanently, lest my head actually explode.

You’d think that was enough. You’d think she would just stop there and enjoy what she had done to me. But, no, there was more.

“When I take her to get her khaki pants for her performance on Saturday I’m going to get her a training bra because she’s starting to feel uncomfortable in t-shirts.”

Convulsions. I think they were convulsions. All I know is that I was on floor. Everything was turning black. Things were swirling and, for the first time in my life, I was actually considering buying firearms and a lock for the outside of Matilda’s bedroom. I mean, I do her laundry! What happened to Disney Princess undies? A bra? Lord Jeebus help me.

Surely, this is enough. She waited until I had recovered enough to ask a question. ”Isn’t this a bit early to discuss this? Don’t we have three more years?”

Then she really dropped the bomb. (Name retracted out of respect for her father who probably can't stop throwing up), a classmate of Matilda’s, got her period over the weekend. And all the girls in the whole grade are buzzing over it.

Not too far from the house is a Red Roof Inn. They have high-speed internet and reasonable rates. Sure, it’s a bit of a rat’s ass crack there, but it will suffice. The way I figure it, if I move in now and stay until Gertrude is out of college, I’ll be safe.

Avoidance? You bet your sweet ass Doc Robbin. It’s not your daughter who wants a bra.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go shove ice picks in my ears.

Although, the fact that I’m committing this to my website may be a perfect tool when dating starts. She wouldn’t want this shared with the future carny she’s sure to bring home for homecoming will she? There may be a silver lining after all.

I Got Nothing

Again, stories to tell, things to bitch about, people to exact revenge upon, but I lack both the energy and creative energy to do any of it.

Luckily The Owls lacked none of those when recording Air. It's funny, because I'm not listening to particularly poppy music lately. It's not like the MP3 player is only cycling music that Brian Wilson would be proud of or that Phil Spector could shit out in a drug-induced paranoia. My personal mood is moving more toward harder music lately. Something with crunching guitars and a bad attitude. If that isn't available, I move back to psych rock of the late sixties.

And yet, songs like this suddenly pop into my attention span and I can't get them out. And why should I? Dig that bass line. The hipper-than-thou snits at Pitchfork actually gave them a 7.7. And there's not even a member of Pavement in this band. That's impressive.

Plus, I like their bio:

"Who are The Owls? 'Two librarian chicks, the sexiest bass player you've ever seen, and a drummer who's the spitting image of Gary Oldman.'"

Burning Up the Credit Card

Merge Records is now on eMusic. Looks like I'll need some booster packs. Sigh. In a good way sigh.

People used to mock me for subscribing to eMusic because they only had tiny, small bands. Which was sort of true. But I discovered a ton of great music there. Now, with Merge, they have the Magnetic Fields, Spoon, Dinosaur Jr., M Ward, etc. No one should complain now, dammit. This is good stuff. Right now my "Save for Later" list includes:

Neutral Milk Hotel
American Music Club
Bloc Party
The Heavy Blinkers
The Owls
Of Montreal
Audible
The Autumn Defense
Decibully
Mirah
Solex
Neko Case
I Am the World Trade Center
The Black Swans
Ivy
TMBG
+/-
Ida
Irving
The Future Bible Heroes

That's a pretty good list. And, 40 tracks for $10 a month ain't bad. Plus, when I need more, I can get an additional 50 for $14.99. Damn good. Lord knows I wouldn't have been able to afford all of this music otherwise. Sure, I miss out on the shelf-factor. But I can deal with it.

Happy Mother's Day and Stuff

This one goes out to all the moms. Be caller number thirteen and get a Ghostbusters picture pack!

And for those who aren't into celebrating mother's day (commie, pinko, rat bastards), here's Diego Maradona.

What does one have to do with the other? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

It's funny because it doesn't make sense.

Updating

Will commence shortly. Been busy. Very busy. Might clear up next week. Or something.

It's a shame, too, because I have great updates. Like how Gertrude LOVED the Buddhist ceremony we attended on Sunday. Though, admittedly, she did keep calling the monks "Buddha Monkeys". So, you know. Or how last night she thought she was lost at the library and caused me to take her to a store and get treats out of guilt.

In the mean time listen to some Pas/Cal here. If that doesn't make you happy then listen to one of the prettiest, hummiest pieces of poppy goodness of the last decade. It's criminal that no one hears it outside of a Saturn commercial.

What are you doing? Go buy their CDs!