Friday, October 31, 2008

Happy Halloween from Please Kill Yourself

Stay sick out there ghouls and gals and some of us will probably see you at the Los Skarnales show at Fitz tonight.

Thursday, October 30, 2008

Philadelphia Fans, Enjoy It

Congrats to the Phillies and a nice fat FUCK YOU to all twelve Rays fans who are upset about the loss of the 2008 World Series. A double FUCK YOU to the bandwagon crew. Seriously, you are some obnoxious people.
It was nice to see Lidge get a ring and find some redemption and how about Eric "Cro-Magnon Man" Bruntlett proving to be a solid bench player. Oh, Michael Bourne, I love you more every day. Seriously, any Astros fan who knows their shit should be happy for those guys and not blame this supposed curse that finds good ballplayers sucking in Houston and then rocking the game when they get shipped off to another team. Lidge needed a change of scenery and well...I'll let his numbers speak for themselves.
But now, for the Phillies fans. Jesus titty fucking christ people! I've been reading the fan accounts from Deadspin this morning (my favorite so far is the video of a guy on a traffic light while the crowd pelts him with bottles) and you folks are pretty fucking nuts. But, hey the last team to win anything in Philadelphia was the one owned by Jon Bon Jovi so I guess it was a celebration of awesome drunkedness and destruction that was well earned.
However, none of you have SHIT on this dude who is also pictured up top.

Wednesday, October 22, 2008

Dig, Brothers and Sisters, on the New Lords of Altamont Record

This thing smokes. It's not Lords Have Mercy but it is sure as hell close. Wonderous fuzzed out guitars, the speaker blowing bass of Mike Davis (worship the MC5, children) and some killer Farfisa organ. The Altamont Sin is probably the most down and dirty, kick ass rock 'n' roll album out right now. The perfect soundtrack for a chickee run or a back alley knife fight or just a righteous record to watch old biker movies and get fucking blitzed on hash to. Either way, it rules.
Lords of Altamont "Gods&Monsters"


A funny thing happened on the way to the World Series for the unbeatable SAWX.  
Oh heroics happened for sure(Nancy!) but to no avail.  The lowly and unheralded Rays of the city of Tampa defeated Debauchery's bffs, the Red Sox
Even though their all time record against the Rays entering the series was 119-68.
I may root for a perennial also ran. 
I got nothing.  Fuck you Jay!!
I hate you.
Good luck finding a new baseball team to root for, now that all your suffering with two world series in the last four years has ended.  
I wonder what Manny is doing.  He will look pretty good in pinstripes next year.  
Scott Boras in '08

You Can Now Confirm For Yourselves That Axl Pissed Away 13 Years

13 years...all that time, wasted. With men who wear KFC buckets and endless sessionists, production teams, scores of tracks thrown to the curb without care all funded by a fraction of what the bailout is costing the government (that stat might not be accurate, but you see the point I'm making here) and this...THIS, is what we are left with.
Chinese Democracy - Guns N Roses
And, by the way, in case you have the IQ of Sarah Palin and think this shit is decent enough to buy (to me, it's just unbearable. I'm gonna jam "Mr. Brownstone" 50 times in a row to cleanse my audio palete of this shit), you're gonna have to hit up a Best Buy. I guess Wal-Mart wasn't classy enough for genius of this caliber. Fuck you, Axl.

The Secret Life of Black Nathan

In case the below isn't obvious enough, Black Nathan is a die-hard Vikings fan. He was born into it and it is the source for much of the pain he endures in life. In fact, he loves telling people (when he is at the height of his giant dickheadedness) that he wants everyone to be as miserable as he is BECAUSE he is a Vikings fan. That is devotion to your team, friends.
But what is most fascinating about his fandom is that whenever he ingests some tasty lutefisk he magically transforms into a batshit insane Canadian superfan named 100% Cheese Free. This is his/their story. And by the way, that ain't face paint. It's sunscreen.

My favorite line is at the end, "I wish everyone could experience this." Man, Nathan, that is some cold shit.
*expect a nice retaliation re: the Red Sox from Nathan should he feel it needed.

Thursday, October 16, 2008

Lights Out Again...

Sure he showed flashes of his old self, but there was no short porch in left and there was certainly no Pujols in the lineup to send him to the showers to be left crying in the fetal position.
He had to contend with a Dodgers team that had Manny on it though. A Manny that had revived a strugling west coast NL team that had aspirations of perhaps of making it to the fall classic that saw the dreams come true in the last few months of the season. The Dodgers came in hot.
The only problem is that the fighting Phils' came in even hotter. Hotter than McCain got in last night's debate hot. The pitching staff (hello Cole "new mancrush" Hamels,) single handidly shut down the late spark that Manny had given the team. Manny still put up Manny numbers, but it does not matter if it's Jesus H. Christ batting clean up if there is no one on base to "clean up" when you get a sacred dinger against that sold staff. When the Phils' are putting up five or six a game, his one or two longballs are moot.
So, congrats Brad. I never wanted to see you go. You were my guy. I defended your lapses in pitch placement. Your insistance in learning a new pitch to toss other than your searing fastball just so you could have something to throw them off with. I have been and always will be an Astros fan, Brad. That is my only fault. I will follow your entire career (even though you are a Fighting Irishman,) because I want you to succeed. I want you to succeed the same way I want that guy who used to be your set up man to succeed in Tampa. A Lidge / Wheeler World Series. Who'da thought that would ever happen?
See Brad, or Lights Out. Can I call you that, Lights Out? Ok.
See, you needed a change in scenery Lights. The reason why? Houston is a cronious franchise man. What have you done for us lately? Not even- more what did you do for me yesterday? We have an owner who's first concern is money. Making a profit and putting asses in the seats. The Roidket and AndyAndro did that. Roy does (or did,) that. Having you come out to your frat-ridden-rap-rock-agro-tune to put the nail in the coffins of many a batter put asses in the seats my friend. But see- to Dracula McClain- that was not enough. He wanted championchips by golly!
Pitching wins championships, yes. But- you have to have the bats to compliment the pitching. Any decent team in either league should be able to overcome what is considered a good outing by a starting pitcher. That's three runs. The Astros are notorious for leaving the population of Willis, Texas on base because they can not hit in the clutch. This starts the viscious cycle. Pitchers pitch, batters do not produce, pitchers get lit, bulpen gets used, pitchers wear down. Next thing you know... your closer is coming out in the middle of the seventh inning because the good ol' boy manager has run out of arms due to over pitching. (There is a reason Collins, Williams and Garner are not in the league anymore. Cecil should be soon to follow suit.)
You got out. Good for you, Brad. So you had an off season last year. It happens. God forbid we stick with someone for YEARS to see how they may or may not turn out. Oh wait- Assmas puts asses in the seats on personality alone. Fuck tallent! Well he is a career .220 hitter who USED to be able to block anything and throw a dude out in Denton. HE can't do that anymore. Well we can always just keep shipping fellas in their late 20's and early 30's back and forth between AAA and the club till they get it I guess. Meanwhile we can scour the league for tallent that was, and wring them dry of what little of it they may have left until they limp into retirement (or tell us they are so they can actually get out of town and go play for a contender.)
Congrats Brad. You are on a team of studs now. Howard, Utley, Rollins, Victorino... you got the bats. Eyre, Moyer, Hamels, YOU. They have the pitching. Good luck man. Maybe we'll seee you in a Houston uni again in 10-12 years when you are an aging starter who we feel might still have some ol' petrol left in the tank.
Go Phillies!!!
P.S. Don't get too pissed when you get back to Minute Maid next season and get boo'ed. Jonny Sixpack and Honkey Wife don't know no better. They are just jealous. You know if you get traded off against your will by the sheer ire of the assinine management or used as bait- it makes you the bad guy. Fuck 'em. They'll already be pissed there is a black president as it is...

Tuesday, October 14, 2008

Cruising Jay Debauchery

After I closed the seasonal store tonight, I ask to grab a quick smoke and head outside the Galleria to sit on the benches outside the fancy steakhouse to ponder the stars (and lament the Red Sox loss to the Rays) when a man comes upon me. He appears to be in his late 40's/early 50's with short cropped grey hair, a flamboyant green flowered shirt with a bone white sport coat and brilliantly shined fancy loafers (hey, the Dead Kennedy has upped my knowledge on style). He stares at me for a few moments before saying, "I just saw a sillohuete here and low and behold there's a person!" His speech is slightly slurred and I let him know that I do, in fact exist (in some corporeal form, at least) and he starts his rap.
"I was just at Gigi's and I guess I must be some real V.I.P. cause I got my tab comped.EVERYTHING! Food,, by the way. The whole enchilada!"
Immediately, I realise, this guy is smitten with me. Don't think I'm being egotistical here. I've been hit on by a bunch of guys but have never seen the sparkle and immense look of hopefull coital copulance that protruded from this man's glazzies. And hey, the story ain't over yet so I can still prove to you this guy wanted a piece of my pasty Mick ass.
I tell him how awesome it is that he gets to dine fancy and get loaded for free and compliment the cuisine at Gigi's (it's pretty meh, in truth). He continues to boast his meal and service and then begins to tell me he might be a little to drunk to drive home. Baiting.
I continue to pull long drags off my Camel Light, just wanting to get out of the situation. Like I said, I don't give a fuck who hits on me or what baggage their packing, I just wanted to build cancer in peace and clear my head. He didn't get the hint via my silence.
"It would be a shame if I got into a wreck and died," is how he laboriously continued our tepid verbal exchange. I nodded and peered at the valets. They know me, we're cool and I was hoping one of them would break up this sad, desperate courting.
"See, I own my own company and if I go it all goes!" He began to get more animated and I continued my sulk. Hoping just to be left alone.
"You must be an IT guy, huh?" was his next query.
"No," I replied, "I'm retail."
This didn't register. He continued on about his amazing freedom as the head honcho of a freewheeling furniture company off of Kirby and then handed me his card. The company was called Ligne Roset and his name is Bruce Wolfe.
I politely thanked him for the card and he went on about how he wanted people to buy new modern "shit" instead of old "shit" and wanted people to have fresh, contemporary and stylish looks for their homes instead of wallowing in old "shit" styled decoration. I nodded, took another drag and stared off into the night. He still didn't get the hint and went for his Hail Mary.
"Shit, I hope I can drive home. I mean, I only live in River Oaks and it's not too far but I don't wanna get pulled over. Just jump in my Roadster and head out down Westheimer and just get home to my bed. Westheimer gonna have more cops now or is Richmond? I only have to get to Weslayen but, my company goes down if I get pulled over."
At this point Bruce asked if he could take a seat next to me and I obliged. He crossed his legs with his right pointed towards me and made sure his arm was behind my back on the bench. He continued to boast about all the free food and booze he got just for being an important furniture salesmen. It was almost like he was bragging about being the gay man's Matress Mac.
Another long silence came about and then my smoke burned furiously down to the tar. I thanked Bruce for the conversation and told him I had to get back to work. He started to inquire about my personal life but broke his sentence mid-way and just said, "Ciao. Use the card," as I got up to head back to the store.

Sunday, October 12, 2008

What the Fuck Ever: No One Cares, Axl

This is probably just another phantom release date, no doubt. Axl's never gonna release the fucking album and is anyone even anticipating it at this point? Music has moved beyond you, you ginger hair plug sportin' douche. But, for those who might feel a slight penile/clitoral twinge of excitement as positive G 'N' R news, here ya go. From
More than a decade after its conception, Guns N’ Roses’ “Chinese Democracy” will finally see the light of day before year’s end, sources close to the situation confirms to Billboard. As first reported here, the set will be a Best Buy exclusive and will be available Sunday, Nov. 23, rather than the usual Tuesday.
Whoopdy fucking doo! A decade long clusterfuck might finally see the light of day right around Black Friday. People, let's give up the "Chinese Democracy" ghost. We've got a better chance of finding some lost Lennon demos than we do of hearing this hyped to death, futile and utterly meaningless record. Things have changed a bunch in music over the last decade and Axl Rose never screamed "timeless songwriter," especially when left to his own narcissistic desires. I love "Appetite for Destruction" but let's just admit it's a very dated album. It ain't "Pet Sounds" or "Astral Weeks." This is classic Phyrric Defeat via rock 'n' roll on display.
Oh, and why the fuck is this supposed release a Best Buy exclusive? Way to go, shit for brains. You jail people for leaking the disc, knowing some sad, Aqua Net loving motherfuckers are desperate to hear a 30 second iTunes snippet and eliminate a majority of the market? The Eagles pulled this shit last year and while they raked in cash, believe me, there were plenty of people who didn't feel like the trek to Wal-Mart was worth it (by the way, what happened to your whole Walden fetish, Henley? Fuck yourself).
Axl, I wrote this a few years ago and it pains me to have to write it again: go back to shooting heroin and punching supermodels or else just hang out with your emu's, bro.

Saturday, October 11, 2008

Buy Fucked Up's New Album

Fucked Up is seriously one of the best bands on the planet and their new album, The Chemistry of Common Life, just cements their legacy of brilliance. Buy it now and thank me later. Actually, you should already be into them since I blogged about them a while back.
The international press seems to be taking notice too since Father Damian graces the cover of this month's NME. Yeah, that mag is weak but at least they are covering a Canadian band instead of sucking off some UK wank job (as is the norm). Get on the train, kids.
MTV Canada decided to invite them back again but chose the studio bathroom as the venue this time. I guess they figured Fucked Up and their fans wouldn't destroy anything if in a confined space. The band agreed and decided to wreck the bathroom anyway. Awesome. Why is it MTV Canada broadcasts bands like this and in the U.S. the channel awards Brittany Spears for being a hillbilly fucktard?

Cornbreadd: Making H-Town Shine on YouTube

Monday, October 6, 2008

Bye, Bye, Backe

The Astros, more often than not, tend to emphasize character over talent. Think I'm full of shit? Then give me one strategic reason why, say, Ausmus has been with the team this long. And no, pitcher comfort levels don't mean shit.
Even moreso, they love to bring in hometown players no matter how shitty the currently perform (see: Woody Williams).
Which brings us to Brandon Backe. The kid is from Galveston and threw the only solid outing in the Astros lone World Series appearance but has since become less reliable than Wandy (who is only in the big leagues because he is a lefty). Stop your internal dialogue with regards to Tommy John surgery, please. Let's remember Andy Pettitte (although, the roids might've had something to do with it) is still going strong and doing better than anyone could have expected. Backe is only on this team because of his ties to Houston. Drayton and Wade won't admit it, but it's true. Now, they come to a crossroads. Do they project their "good guys" image or show this bum the door after he brawled with cops at a wedding?
The incident started at the resort's swimming pool bar. A guest shoved a police officer after the officer told him he could not bring an open container of alcohol into the area, and the incident escalated into a riot after the man -- and others -- refused to comply with the officer's commands, police said.
At one point, police told Backe to back off but police said Backe struggled with officers instead -- exchange blows to the face with one officer.

Look, I know some people who went to high school with Backe and they told me he rode the short bus. After witnessing him talking to a bat that seems to be true. They said if it weren't for baseball, he'd be mopping the Texaco bathroom between Giddings and Austin. On the one hand, I dig the competitive fire and a pitcher who doesn't think (hey, it can only hurt the ballclub) but when you can't find the fucking strike zone...hey, the Astros could always go the Rick Ankiel route, but I doubt that would still make Backe a valuable major league commodity.
If Uncle Drayton is reading this, bro, this is your out. Take fucking advantage of it and send Backe packing.

Some Helpful Guidelines to the Galleria Shoppers

Kids and Leashes
If you don’t want me to treat little Timmy like the ravenous animal that he is then don’t put him on a fucking leash. I don’t give a shit if it doubles as a backpack for his blanky, juice box and mashed naners, it demeans both of you. So please don’t get offended when I come upon Timmy destroying the kids section in my store, roll up a newspaper, smack him on his cute little button nose and shout “NO!” It is still miles beyond your parenting skills. After all, you’re off in the corner flipping through Life and Style, French Women Don’t Get Fat and The Secret. The kid already has no shot.
And let’s be honest here, the only reason you have the leash in the first place is so you can publicly admit your failure to control and watch over your child. I put my dog on a leash in public so she can’t run up on people and play in traffic. Your kid is leashed so he doesn’t follow the old man with candy and get fondled in the food court bathroom while you’re deciding which kind of dipping sauce you want with your Wetzel Pretzel. Congratulations, mom and dad, you have successfully begun raising a pet that can talk back. And you wonder why the future is bleak? On the other hand, I do enjoy when the brat sprints off at top speed and gets yanked back, busts his ass and starts bawling while you stare in confusion.
Yeah, this should be an obvious one. You know, ways you walk through. It’s right there in the fucking word! But, that is just too confusing for most people. It’s great that you and 20 of your friends decided to aimlessly wander about this monument to consumerism but could you at least show some fucking recognition of your fellow drones but keeping the walkways clear? It’s almost impossible to keep your group together but can you at least clear space for everyone trying to get by instead of blocking one side of the aisle like a defensive line of dumbasses? Or how about we trust that the rest of the group can safely exit the escalator without clumping around its end so it doesn’t turn into 610 traffic jam? The other day I was walking from the store to the seasonal business with a hammer and seriously considered using it just so it wouldn’t take me 30 minutes to walk 10 feet. Sure, it would’ve taken the same amount of time to beat sense into all of your thick skulls but at least I would’ve felt better.
Cell Phone Usage
If you have time to spend browsing shops and cruising the food court for apathetic ass you do not need to be wearing a fucking Bluetooth. For some reason, I get the feeling that if this is what you occupy your weekends with you’re not going to get an emergency buzz calling you in for surgery or that the board has called a crisis meeting due to the economic downfall. You are just some jackass who wants to look important but comes off as a total douche. The Ed Hardy shirt gave it away, bro.Oh and double fuck off to the people who wear TWO Bluetooth sets, looking like some fucking alien. Unless you are balancing a stripper and your 401K simultaneously (hey, in these times, it actually is understandable) see above.
And can we please stay out of the bookstore when you get that important call about your long distance service or your fantasy football status? The bookstore is a quiet place and we don’t need you bitching about drafting Brady in the first round at the top of your lungs or using the walkie talkie device to find out what your friends or relatives are buying for Susie down at the Disney Store. Just dial the fucking person and have a complete conversation without all those annoying chips and static laden responses. It’s simpler and really will make all of our lives a little more pleasant.
Oh, one more thing. Whoever invented the function that allows you to blare mp3’s and radio via phone needs to be disemboweled with a rusty hook. Seriously, fuck that guy. And fuck the people who gleefully embrace the technology even more. You are inconsiderate, moronic, mouth breathing shit stains who incorrectly assume we all wanna hear Lil Wayne as you lethargically browse the skin and tattoo mags. First of all, the sound quality is terrible. Guitar Wolf records sound like fucking Phil Spector productions by comparison. Second, I’m sure there is headphone jack on the device so why do you have to share with us your unique and discerning musical tastes by forcing “Lollipop” on my ears for the billionth time. No one thinks your cool for doing so and until a dance party breaks out, cut that shit out.

Friday, October 3, 2008

Curse My Ass

Hey Cubs fans! Newsflash: YOU ARE NOT CURSED. Let me say that again (Biden-esque,) YOU ARE NOT CURSED.
Your team cannot perform under pressure. That's all. You are not capable of positive production offensively, and apparently your infielders can't play fundamental hit, catch, and throw baseball when in a pinch and need to get out of an inning. Your two stud aces have a knack for walking runners in a time of needing to retire the side and the coaching staff cannot seem to rally and focus the team away from the inevitable ESPN 360 degree coverage of the potential choke that you will no doubt succumb to and blame on a cat, goat, or ill seated fan.
There is no curse. You just have a B+ squad in the A+ division of the National League. You got lucky this year. Best record? I'll hand you that. Congrats. But it does not mean anything when the second season starts up. As evident by the the Brewers, Angels and you guys.
You guys? You are the lovable losers for Christ's sake. Your postseason drought is only 20 years more than the Indians. Shit. Given life expectancy, you all are in the same boat. Get over yourself. The Red Sox were thought to be cursed too. Guess what? They just started going dollar for dollar with the Yanks and look what it got em. Now their fans are just as arrogant and obnoxious as Yankee fans (Ed note: I hope I'm excluded from that broad brushstroke). Except they act like they have ALWAYS been this good.
It was a good post season for you guys. While it lasted. At least you still have the Bears and Bulls...