I just made a trip to the WDR mailroom to see if my copy of Rack Attack magazine was in (it wasn't) and I was surprised to find several letters from our readers among the ExtenZe free samples. The biggest question of all was, "Hey, where the fuck are your end of the year lists?"
Well keep your shirts on (unless you're from Rack Attack, in which case feel free to dress as you please). We have our lists of best and worst shit of 2007, and we're going to put them up soon. In fact, we might not even get them up until 2008. I seriously doubt that anything worthwhile will happen between now and then, but we shouldn't just assume it. I mean, how many people made asshats of themselves in 2000 when they thought crazy shit was going to happen? Well a lot of people, including these guys.
I can only assure you that the lists this year will be great. We won't have another mishap on Joe's part. You know what I'm talking about...
So enjoy the posts that follow and what's left of this wretched year of our Lord, 2007.
Because it's Wednesday, and we all need a pick-me-up to make it through the rest of the week in our respective hells, WDR is providing some fun.
It's the Holidays, and often this is the time of year where we're searching for the gardenhose and connecting it to our respective tailpipes. Most people find themselves dealing with obnoxious relatives, annoying-to-the-nth-degree Christmas carols, and the hell that is shopping. And let's face it, most of the time, Christmas itself was a disappointment--you never got that awesome Transformer robot that you wanted, or that sick new Mortal Kombat. No, you were stuck with some goofy Hot Wheel and freaking Mario's Time Machine.
And even if your Christmas was great, you still have to deal with the fact that the next day, it's all over. No more good times. So no matter how you cut it, you're in for a down time this holiday season. Which seems as good a time as any to include the most somber of all the "Best of 2007" selections, in which the Editors tell us that the saddest thing that I've ever seen was indeed "Smokers Outside The Hospital Doors". And yes, we do realize they sound like a way-British version of Interpol. Shut it, because it's still good.
So the hell with lifting up your spirits on this Hump Day; for once we will allow you to wallow in the misery.
Hey, it's the holidays, so we're taking a short vacation this weekend. Which means it's time for everyone's favorite: reruns! So while the WDR crew gets drunk on Nyquil Egg Nog, just remember these three simple words:
As we eagerly anticipate Joe Reefer's delicious and scandalous contribution for the month, allow me to indulge in a bit of personal news. You may recall my continual detailing of my attempts to avoid becoming a total loser, which somehow involved the use of Logic Games. My ability to do things such as determining the correct order of scheduling 7 flights while paying attention to arbitrary rules was going to be my ticket out of this dump (for the record, I made the sentence structure of that previous statement as unclear as possible to give one an idea about the type of language they actually use on the test). Ah, yes, the glorious LSAT. Today, I found out if my efforts were in vain.
They were not. To say the least.
I remember being very uncertain about my potential score while I was taking the test, as my mind was continually plagued with self-doubt. "Oh god, no, not another guess! Holy crap, I'm not going to have time to finish this game! What the hell is Germanium?!?" In fact, there were several moments where I was ready to throw in the towel and tell the kindly old folks at the LSAC to please burn my test and salt the earth where they buried it so nothing would ever grow there again. But I didn't. And as the day, went along, I gradually thought better of my efforts, and eventually decided that I should say "what the hell" and hope for the best. What convinced me to adopt this strategy? Well, this was the reason. That's right, college fuckin' football convinced me otherwise. If LSU could pull off such an incredibly lucky run to the championship game, wasn't this a good omen for me?
Apparently it was. Because when I opened the email that would tell me of my fate (i.e., my score), I was absolutely stunned. I nearly had the happiest heart attack on record. Actually, I've had a lot of those near-heart attacks this year...you would think this would bother me. Anyways, I was convinced that I had been a victim of a cruel joke, but hey, the story checked out. I did actually make that score. Redemption, thy name is Nic Ouzo!
All in all, it made my top 3 moments of the year. What were the other two? Well, they're too retarded to mention here in this space. And yes, I say this with the full realization that we have multiple posts that utilize the "bongtarded" tag. Your arguments do not persuade me! Why do you continue looking at me? I don't have to answer to you!
Now it's time go out and celebrate, WDR-style. It's the only way to celebrate the 174-99 combo.
Because it's Wednesday, and we all need a pick-me-up to make it through the rest of the week in our respective hells, WDR is providing some fun.
You will usually find rock kids to be the most sullen, non-party types imaginable. Sure, they'll drink your face off, and probably do stupid shit like jump into a table. They usually leave the dancing to the hip-hop crowd. But in 2007 we saw more and more rock bands decide "fuck that, let's fucking dance!". Bands like LCD Soundsystem, The Rapture, and !!! all put out great dance-rock records, and the people responded in kind by actually picking up their albums for once.
So let's show our appreciation, by throwing down some of our best moves on whatever dancefloor is closest to you. Don't worry, we'll only judge you silently. Dammit America, just have fun! And so, we continue our Best of 2007 feature with "North American Scum"!
Let's rock, North America!
Bonus Video!
She said "you just got me hot, I finished off while you were snoring"...
This week will mark the reunion of the entirety of the WDR team for the first time since our epic Road Trip in August. Much has changed since then. Mr. Zhuang has taken up the sport of Jai Alai, using his skills to earn a living as he explores the epic territory that is Upper-Northwest Nebraska. Joe Reefer has become a vital member of the group Puppetry Of The Penis, showing that he can make productive use of his organ beyond leaving a litter of kids everywhere he lands.
As for myself, I have taken up and quit several jobs as I've attempted to find myself, but I have to admit it's taken me to some pretty weird places. As it stands, I'm now interning for a law firm that is taking depositions for a potential class-action lawsuit by Santa's elves. At least I was told they were Santa's elves...they could have been Malaysian sweatshop workers. I'm not really paying attention. I'm more concerned about catching the next repeat of "120 Minutes" on VH1 Classic, to tell you the truth.
But enough with the past. Here's to the future, as we will commence with the festivities on Wednesday night as we make an appearance at the Dandy Warhols annual Hometown Christmas Concert Spectacular. We are prepared to hear the best version of "Little Drummer Boy" we'll hear all year, and then go out drinking.
Because that's what we do. We're totally original like that.
As an ugly ugly, fat fat fat man, there are few aspects of my appearance in which I can take a modicum of pride. Sure, my calves are sicktight, but I think it's retarded that one could look upon such a body part with any degree of pride, (plus, it's cold outside and I can't show them off). Though I do get enjoyment when I hear of other morons' vain attempts to improve their physique in this area ("if I only get calf implants, I'll totally be neck-deep in pussy!"). No, the only thing that I can be proud of is my stupid hair.
Actually, I mainly find my hair to be annoying. It really only works in one style, and there's a whole metric fuckton of it. It's not like I have a giant afro--no, it's just that there's more hair packed per-square-inch than you can imagine. The greatest part about this is that I have the same conversation with every barber:
Barber Fellow: That's a lot of hair! Me: Sure is, hehehe (thinks of way to knife someone nearby)
But in general, I'm happy with whatever haircut I get. It's pretty hard to fuck up "just trim it". The only problem is the maintenance, because without proper care, drastic shit happens.
I end up looking like a dyke.
I have multiple factors working against me, which lead to that unfortunate possibility. One is my approximately C-cup breasts, which while potentially fantastic on a woman, are just wrong on my body. Two, my Eastern European heritage works against me, because of the stereotype in American culture that E. European women are more manly-looking than their male counterparts. All of this adds to the general confusion that could result.
Sure, I could easily rectify this problem with some careful adjustments on my part. But due to my strict pro-lazy, anti-metro policy, I do as little as possible when it comes to hair care. No blow-dry, because frying my head does not sound appealing. No mousse, because that shit is icky and gets all over your hands, with none of the fun of 'batin. And no gel, because my douche quotient is not high enough. If you use hairgel, you're a douche. And if you dare offer yourself as a counterexample, I'm sorry--next time you check the mirror you'll have a douche staring right back at you. No, all I do is run a brush through the hair a couple of times, and half-expect it to stay relatively in place for the next 20 hours.
When it all comes together, you have the one man that can rock the near-pompadour this side of Daniel Kessler from Interpol. Sure, it sounds bongtarded in theory, but it's the only thing that ever comes to working. This then leads to the compliments from the ladies, who once have gotten over their initial disgust, come to marvel at my amazing follicles. And it stays looking good, no matter what the length--from 80s I-Banker style to late 70s porn producer style, the potential is there. But then again, there's the good chance I end up looking like a man-hating lesbian.
And now, if you excuse me, it's Friday night. Time for this dyke to hit the town.
Now I know a lot of people have already commented on it, but I have to say something. This new game "Rock Band" does not make any sense to me at all. People can get together and "start a band" with the help of fake instruments and a game console. They can pretend to play a real concert in the comfort of their own home without actually learning how to play an instrument and waste more time in their parents' basement after they've gotten stoned.
I'm not the kind of person that complains about said wasting time or getting stoned. But what bothers me is this game. Why can't people just get together and play crappy rock in their basements? Hasn't this been done for years? It's not that hard to make shitty music in your parents' basement. Shit, I was doing it earlier today. And I was on MySpace. Seriously, it's not that hard to do.
OK, so musical instruments are "expensive" and "take up a lot of space" and "piss of the neighbors." So what? I'm in college, completely broke and I have AT LEAST 4 musical instruments in my room. I have a working knowledge of AT LEAST 2 of them. I play through an amp made by Marlboro. I shit you not. I got this amp for free. Trust me.
But perhaps I'm looking at this the wrong way. I mean, most good bands started playing in some body's garage/basement (save bands like Cream or A Perfect Circle), but so did a lot of horrible bands. Perhaps there wouldn't be nearly as many Linkin Parks or Nickelbacks or Plain White T's if these kids spent their time getting high and playing video games instead of trying to be "musical." But I'd also hate to see someone with real potential fall through the cracks just because of a video game. I mean, what if Trent Reznor was obsessed with video games so much that it drove him AWAY from music?
Oh wait, Trent Reznor did do that playing Doom. (And you thought he was battling his "personal" demons between The Downward Spiral and The Fragile. How wrong you were...) And come to think of it, those kids that aren't serious about playing music probably should play this game, because they probably aren't going to contribute anything worthwhile to the world of music anyway. Perhaps "Rock Band" is doing us a service.
No, fuck that. They're out there to make money. So drop you dirty dollar on it if you like. I'm going to rock on with my little buddy from Marlboro country...
Because it's Wednesday, and we all need a pick-me-up to make it through the rest of the week in our respective hells, WDR is providing some fun.
Continuing our Best of 2007 theme, we present to you a choice that's sure to be on everyone's top 10 list--at least the ones that you might pay attention to. But just because people seem to agree, especially snot-nosed critics, doesn't mean that you shouldn't turn away in disgust automatically. Such is the case with Spoon.
Initially I was a bit lukewarm about Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga for reasons beyond the ridiculous title--sure it's a great album, but it felt too much like a compromise between Gimme Fiction and Kill The Moonlight, two albums that get considerable rotation attention around here. But sure enough, I've been grabbing for this one more and more, as I can't get tired of listening to the twitchy-soul that marks the Spoon sound. Plus, this song's got a nifty horn section!
Oh you cut out the middleman, get free from the middleman!...
News is coming in at a fast and furious speed these days, from the ongoing events of the campaign trail to continuing developments as Russia undergoes a power "transition". But the story that had the attention of most people was the revelation in the most recent NIE that Iran had put a stop to their covert weapons program. Surely this would stop the ever-loudening drumbeat for war. I mean, if you eliminate the reason for it, you can't follow through, right? Right?!?!?
Apparently not, according to some politicos. The popular editorial cartoon take on this news is to ask "What to Believe?", and present some comparison scenario between this recent turn of events and that of 2003, when we were told that Iraq had WMDs. Note the added emphasis of mine to contrast the supposed comparison. That difference is paramount to understanding the two situations. The standard line is that since the intelligence was wrong before, what can we trust? Well, for one, to chalk up the failures of the Iraq War to mere "bad intelligence" is simply foolhardy. The problem was not necessarily getting bad information (which did indeed occur), but that information was cherry-picked to try to support a predetermined conclusion (which itself was based on poor assumptions). Since the push by this administration has been for war with Iran, publishing an intelligence report which refutes that conclusion presents an entirely different situation. Making the comparison is then just lazy.
But this willful ignorance is as great a sin as the outright spin-and-deny from the Hawks on this issue. You can find editorials from the likes of people like John Bolton which attempt to put the kibosh on the entire finding, arguing such things that there was no diplomacy involved with Iran (only the war with Iraq has put any pressure) and that should conflate civilian and military technology, without considering that it's probably pretty easy to monitor civilian uses of the technology. But there was error that was particularly egregious, and that was his contention that "the NIE suffers from a common problem in government: the overvaluation of the most recent piece of data." This just makes me laugh, because the exact opposite problem was what led to the mistaken invasion of Iraq--because of "anchoring", we refused to reconsider our assumptions as new information was gathered that challenged our assumption that Iraq had a functioning weapons program. If anything, what Bolton states usually does NOT occur, and shows that a better decision-making skills are taking place.
The funniest part of the backlash by the hawks to this report is their attempt to explain the reasoning behind this sudden change in outlook. There was one feature Op-Ed in The Oregonian which asserted that Bush was trying to wash his hands of the Iran "problem", and was passing the buck to the next administration. This is of course totally in line with the thinking of this administration, which has pushed for war at every opportunity, and warned of a potential WWIII just last week would suddenly change course. We have seven years of evidence that definitively prove otherwise.
Now I'm not saying that everything is totally safe with Iran. As always, it's best to proceed with caution, and to always keep an eye on the situation. That's why we continue to try to obtain intelligence. But we can't repeat the same mistakes that we committed in the past. We can't assume that a regime is "just crazy", and fail to consider the simple cost/benefit analysis that other regimes go through. Iran is in some ways calling plays from the same playbook as Iraq, what with their resistance to international efforts in their powerplay to assert themselves as the regional hegemon. We have to remember that these people still understand cost/benefit analysis and balance-of-power reasoning, and that their decisions are not irrational.
Just don't expect to start a war with even less evidence than you had before.
There are times when ya just have to take a piss. Too much beer, a long car ride, someone scares you really bad, whatever - we've all been there. But the idea of pissing into a pile of towels is not one I had ever heard of until Kansas State's Bill Walker.
Now I know that the Ducks are a force to be reckoned with on the court, but that seems a bit much of a reaction. Pissing in a pile of towels? Well, I guess Walker can really think on his feet. Or something. I would have expected a cup or something like that would be the way to get it done, but Walker really went the creative route here. I'm sure that Gatorade found this amusing. "Is it in you?" Not anymore!
Crazy stuff. Remind to bring my own towels with me if I ever make a trip to Kansas...
Last week, I instructed one of my colleagues to write a quick post for the Friday edition, so that we wouldn't have a day off. I would have written one, but as was mentioned several times previously, I was studying for the goddamn LSAT. All I suggested was that we post a video of one of the greatest human beings of all time.
Well, that post didn't happen. The colleague responsible will remain nameless, but I'm sure you kids who have been brought up on Slylock Fox will figure it out. So, I said to myself, "Feliz Navidad, bitches." And I present to you now the video of this Great American Hero.
I am talking of course about Wilford Brimley. The man is a national treasure, from his homespun sayings to his incredible ability to endure pain. And he also warned us about the potential horrors of, what he likes to call, "The Diabeetis". Today, we're playing this video in honor of his service.
I want to apologize for the lack of a post on Tuesday. I had come up with a great topic at the last minute, but was informed by my colleague that my services were not needed that day. Mr. Zhuang was all set to deliver a hilarious take on local commercials, exposing to the world some of the brilliant entrepreneurs we have up in the Pacific Northwest. But Zhuang is all concerned about his edumacation, and decided that he had enough writing for the night and needed to study instead. I mean, what kind of loser studies for finals?
Anyways, since Zhuang quit writing, and I had forgotten whatever the hell it was I was going to talk about, nothing got put up. Therefore there was a gap in your daily Wayne Diego intake that we can't blame on a random holiday, we apologize. Wait a second, Hanukkah began yesterday! We were just observing the day before! Quiet, we must rest. Shh..shhh...
Lo and behold, we had a topic come about today that very much falls in line with what we discuss here at WDR. Grammy nominations were announced today, which gives us the opportunity to both discuss music AND make fun of clueless old people. Because if there's one thing that you can count on each year, it's a terrible batch of Grammy nominations.
Before we get started, we'll just mention that we realize that the Grammys aren't a real award, so it is kind of pointless to debate their merits. Whatev.
There are only a few awards that we pay attention to: anything rock-related, and stuff like "best short form music video". The rock categories are an abomination this year, as out of 40 possible slots about 4 of them are in any way halfway decent, namely nominations for "The Pretender" and "The Pot". (Note: "Icky Thump" was specifically NOT mentioned, since it's the worst song that The White Stripes have recorded. By a longshot.) I mean, Wilco's "Sky Blue Sky" being nominated for Rock Album of the year? There's very little that's actually rocking on that album, besides Nels Cline's insane solo on "Impossible Germany" (even though it's a solid album through and through). And the less said of nominations for Daughtry, the better.
The most surprising nomination, however, was the one given to the Foo Fighters' Echoes, Silence, Patience & Grace for ALBUM OF THE YEAR. I know you just heard me offer some praise for "The Pretender", but the album as a whole is quite mediocre--it barely cracks the top-5 of Foo Fighters albums. Clearly it's an example of a half-assed attempt to reach the mainstream rock community by belatedly honoring a slightly over-the-hill rock group whose best days are probably behind them (Exhibit A: the nominations racked up by the Red Hot Chili Peppers last year).
That's all we have to say about the Grammys. Except that Eddie Vedder gets an award, and that this is the video of the year.
Because it's Wednesday, and we all need a pick-me-up to make it through the rest of the week in our respective hells, WDR is providing some fun.
Today we begin a look back at the year in music. All December we're going to be using the Hump Day Helper to highlight some of the best albums from 2007, especially the ones that may have been overlooked or misjudged.
And today's selection is from a band whose album I believe was really misjudged. Bloc Party burst onto the scene with their stellar debut, Silent Alarm which brought an edge to the New Wave Revival movement. They followed up with A Weekend In The City, which though showed a more polished side to the group, didn't get the same rave reviews as their previous album. But those people are asshats. It's a bitchin' album. "The Prayer" has a great stompin' beat and an excellent noise-guitar solo, as it tells a story that we're all familiar with--praying to our drugs to make this one bitchin' party.
Just a few days ago, this humble author was walking around in a mood that Downward Spiral-era Trent Reznor would have been wary of. "Yeah, I created the most depressing album ever, but I wouldn't want to be that low" would be a good approximation of his probable reaction. I mean, I was so down that I was using Elliott Smith to try and cheer up. But here we are, seven days later, and I'm so goddamn giddy that I'm making nonsensical musical analogies in a flailing attempt at humor. In other words, we're pretty much back to normal around here.
I had the one-two stomach-punch combo of LSU losing in heart-breaking fashion to Ar-Kansas and the dread of the upcoming LSAT examination to deal with. When my mind wasn't busy trying to find the fallacy of (purposefully) shittily written arguments about the potential economic feasibility of niobium/germanium superconductors or figuring out which goddamn fruit went into which basket*, it was off pondering what could have been for my beloved Tigers. During a period in which I was struggling to find a job, attempting once again to face my failure and attempt to get into law school again, and being devoid of nearly all human contact, at least I had my Tigers to look forward to each weekend. More so than any other year, I had become attached to this team (it certainly helped that I didn't have "commitments" occupying my precious time, like the (apparently) worthless pursuit of an education).
So I was preparing to write a short essay on all the various things that made this loss harder to take than any other that I could remember--the timing of it, which would deny us the opportunity to play for the championship, or the way we snatched defeat from the jaws of victory (4th and 10!!! We had them!). But then Saturday happened. I was up early, taking the aforementioned LSAT and doing a generally decent job--the verdict will come in a few weeks, but I wasn't in the most confident of moods afterwards (a week of several difficult practice tests will do a lot to put doubt in one's mind). After dealing with several delays at the testing center, I got home around the start of the second quarter, and settled in for the game. It was up-and-down for the Tigers, but in the end they pulled it out when it truly mattered.
I was ready to just settle in for the rest of the day and relax--without the LSAT weighing on my mind, I was free to just chill and watch football all day. I was just happy that LSU didn't blow it and was going to be in the Sugar Bowl, not thinking about anything beyond that. But then the unthinkable began happening. Pitt got a lead against West Virginia, and despite several attempts by the refs to screw them over, they held on despite having been 28 point underdogs. Then number 1 Missouri got their asses handed to them by Oklahoma, and all the pieces had fallen into place for LSU to pull off what was unthinkable, even just a week ago.
I had to wait until Sunday to find out LSU's fate. However, it seemed like I was going to get screwed once again. The power went out at my house early in the afternoon, so it looked like I was going to be shit out of luck in finding out where LSU ended up. I had to figure out a way to find out, and resolved to drive to a sports bar. However, I was foiled by an un-openable garage door, since I could not find a handle to pull it up manually (I was later informed much later that, hey, dingus, use the damn rope in the middle to pull it up). I was then about to text Joe Reefer to overcome his intense hatred of all things college football to do me the favor of watching the selection show for me, but lo and behold, the power came back on a mere ten minutes before the show began.
My good luck didn't stop there, as everyone knows--LSU found a back-asswards way to get into the National Championship game. And you know what, I'M SO GODDAMN HAPPY RIGHT NOW. I guess this kind of sums up my mood:
Hell, instead of considering canceling my LSAT score, with the way my luck has been going, I'm pretty goddamn sure I got a near-perfect score. I'm downright giddy.
