Gustav is once again screwing up everything

Damn it, Gustav!

I'm probably not the one who should be writing this blog entry as one that has never been to Louisiana or lived there. But I feel it's about the time to bring this up.

As WDR has reported before, Gustav is, in fact, an enemy of the blog. But that Gustav is a radio personality in Portland who puts on his random 80s techno bullshit when we just want to hear some rock. Damn you, Gustav!

But now, Gustav is a hurricane that looks to fuck up Louisiana again. Totally not fair, Gustav. Leave Louisiana alone. For fuck sake.

Also, this is having an effect on the Republican's convention, as they don't want to have a party when a huge natural disaster threatens the lives of millions. Not that I really gave a shit about the convention for the republicans anyway - but it seems like they're at least making a decent decision. And, the mention of the republicans and disaster gives me a chance to post this picture (from three years ago) that has been making me laugh much of the day.



Despite this, neither Gustav deserves any sympathy. Sure, one is a destructive hurricane and the other plays annoying techno shit when I'm listening to the radio, but they are still both evil!

(But in all seriousness, and I'm speaking for the whole WDR crew, I hope that this hurricane will not be as bad as the last one and that it will be handled better.)

Welcome to New Yawk

It's a new change of scenery for your humble author. I am now in the middle of the most vibrant city on the planet, and in case I didn't know that, there are twenty people on the street that will shout this fact to my face. And while law school will be keeping me busy (well, it should, we'll see if that turns out to be the case), rest assured I will pop in from time to time. Not like it'll be a change of pace from the last few months...

So what's my take on New York? I'll provide a long, rambling rant that might make you chuckle once soon enough, but, like many things, it can be best described through the eyes of "The Critic":

Hump Day Helper -- Moving to New York City Edition

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.

I know, we've used The Walkmen for the HDH before, but circumstances dictate that we repeat the choice. One, the group released a stellar album this week (I've already listened to it, and trust me, it's great), and two, when you're moving to Gotham, you got to do something to commemorate the occasion.

We've been had, you say it's over
sometimes I'm just happy I'm older
we've been had, I know it's over
somehow it got easy to laugh out loud...

Rampant Idiocy Run Amok: Pizza Chain Edition

The WDR crew are known for their late night proclivities, at least by their associates. We essentially believe that the day doesn't start until at least 3:30 pm, which for me at least means that Pardon The Interruption is over on the West Coast, so I can now accomplish whatever shit I need to do. This allows us to extend our night time activities until the wee hours of the morning, which means some time before 5 in the morning. Anything after that, well, that's just pushing it.

As such, we tend to get late night munchies, and not due to any other merrymaking activities [cough]. If you're really hungry, nothing sounds better than a pizza at this hour. It's hot, it's got the finest meats and cheeses, some vegetables (and fruits, because the 2/3 of us that aren't crazy love the pineapple on our pizza)--hell, it's the food pyramid in easily digestible form, plus there is plenty of it to go around.

So one late night when we're hanging together, not engaging in any other mirth-making activity [COUGH COUGH], we get a craving for some pizza. We end up calling for a pizza, only to find out that the location of the store near my house had closed down, and for some reason the phone number went directly to another store in our town. Fine, we find this out, and we order a pizza, and ask to deliver the pizza. SORRY! We don't deliver to your location (yet you accept my phone call...)! Fine, whatever, we'll go look for something else.



At this point, we hit the road, mainly because we're bored and the car at least provides movement, which provides the illusion that something is happening. We look around for other pizza places, but since it's late night, most of them are closed. We decide, fuck it, we're going to the place where we placed an earlier order, and we'll just order carry out. Now this is where things get stupid.

We pull into the parking lot and about to head in through the door when one of the employees comes rushing out and saying "No, we're closed". We are confused, because all the lights are on, and THERE'S A BIG FUCKING SIGN THAT SAYS "OPEN". We then get an explanation saying that late at night, they close the restaurant to patrons because of "safety concerns". But delivery is still available. Of course, we mention that was EXACTLY what we had asked for before, but we were too far away (keep in mind, this is Salem, OR, and "too far" means the difference between 2 and 3 miles away). I'll let this all sink in for a second.


I figured, what the hell, must be a Salem kind of thing. I mean, we're used to dealing with unnecessary shit like this. We didn't realize that this was part of a national trend until we went to hang out with Patches O'Hoolihan up in Port Land, and attempted to purchase a pizza there (while not engaging in any festive activities [COUGH COUGH COUGH]) past 10 pm. We were promptly informed that carryout was unavailable, but that they could deliver to Patches's apartment...two blocks away.

So let's sum things up: You will not allow people to come into your own place of business, where you control all factors--you have security cameras, bright lights, a phone that can call help, witnesses, etc. But you will send out an employee to any fucking where, where they have no control of the situation, and could be raped and murdered for all we know. Again: total control, or no control whatsoever.

Yes, this makes perfect sense.

Honey Bunches of Oats is the Worst Cereal Ever Made

Yet I eat it just about every day.

You may ask yourself, why would I continue to eat a cereal that I clearly have little regard for? That's simply the wrong question to ask. A better question might be "Do BMX riders realize that you can't be badass when you're riding what amounts to be a bike for a six year-old?", though it would probably not be pertinent to the question at hand. Then again, if being relevant was your only concern, then yes, I guess, your initial question was fine.

The problem isn't with the taste of the cereal itself--no, it's the context beyond the cereal. That's because when you're eating "Honey Bunches of Oats", you're now eating "Old Man Cereal". Remember when you were young, the crazy shit you'd eat in your cereal? Shit, they put in fucking Oreo cookies and jelly beans and probably little chocolate donuts in cereals these days. But the day you stop eating Froot Loops is the day that you're called things like "mature" or people refer to you as "sir", like "Sir, that is not appropriate clothing for the Roadside Steak Shack, we must ask you to leave." I mean, since when did the Steak Shack have standards, any way?

And Honey Bunches of Oats doesn't help itself with their advertising. "With Almonds!" is a terrible selling point. Only old dudes get excited about nuts in their food, further cementing your reputation as an old man cereal. Plus, your cereal gets soggy as shit when I put milk in it, further destroying my mood and turning me into the old man that I apparently am.



However, Honey Bunches of Oats apparently now realizes that the only good thing about their cereal is the bunches. I don't know why it took them so long to realize that the one sweet part of the cereal was way better than soggy fucking cornflakes, but I'm guessing there aren't many geniuses at the Cereal Plant. So they've now decided to release a cereal called "Just Bunches". Color me excited--that's going to get me through the terror of 1L, I'll tell you that much (I'm being totally serious, you guys).

I remember I had a good joke about "Just Bunches", but I forgot it. If Mr. Zhuang or Joe decide to ever find this blog again, maybe they'll chime in with their answer.

Hump Day Helper -- Nowhere or Quizno's Edition

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.

The WDR crew took a field trip and saw The Pineapple Express this past weekend. Fun was had by all. Now we know that no hair in our underarms means that you're more aerodynamic when you fight.

To commemorate the occasion, here's the song that was in the trailer. Hopefully the chorus gets in your head like it did with mine.

I fly like paper, I get high like planes...

Rampant Idiocy Run Amok

There are few things that are more infuriating than genuinely stupid policies. I'm sure you've reacted in very much the same way that I have when confronted with these--lots of anger, harsh words, cars being thrown, etc. But the important thing is not to ask who set what on fire, but why on earth these stupid policies exist in the first place.

The first target of my wrath is Hollywood Video. Now, I don't have a problem per se with the store itself--it often has a great selection (for Salem) of foreign and older movies, and the clerks are good about canceling your late fees. No, my problem is with their new policy of having you set up a new account for each Hollywood Video location.



That's right, for every Hollywood Video location, you need to have a membership at that particular location.

Why? You have my information already, what with my card being processed and it telling you that I have a goddamn membership at another location! Is it necessary that you make me go through these steps to find out my address and/or phone number if I'm late with a movie? Because that's the entire reason for setting up a membership. And I have to say, video clerk lady should not bitch at me that she has to fill in the information for me...when she would have to do to so regardless even if I filled out the pointless paperwork beforehand. That shit is still going into the computer.



Stop it Hollywood Video. You're making my head hurt.

Happy Birthday To Me

We did birthday posts last year, but we did it in a way that is the true WDR spirit--we posted the wrong alias with the wrong day. I think we said it was Joe's birthday when it was really my birthday last year. We did this so people would be confused by our online identities, but I think the number of people confused by this gambit is in the high zeroes. So I'm saying the hell with that this year, and doing what I want instead.

Which means playing some fucking Pearl Jam. Last night when we hit the bars, we heard a couple of songs from my favorite band randomly on the jukebox, including this one right here. Joe was somehow surprised that as soon as he recognized "Porch" was playing that I was already singing along, "what the fuck is this world running to..." While "Porch" does indeed rock my socks, I decided to go with the one that sounds more appropriate for a birthday. Of course, being a Pearl Jam fanatic, I know the true irony of that statement considering the meaning of the song, but as Eddie once said, we the audience now own the song.

So watch this awesome live performance of "Alive", complete with guitar heroics from the Awesome Mike McCready, and Eddie Vedder dancing with whomever he can find.

Hump Day Helper -- Possibly the Best Music Video Ever Edition

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.

People who know me well know that I'm a huge fan of Pearl Jam. Surprisingly enough, that facet of my personality hasn't shown up nearly as often as my penchant for profanity. But since I've run out of inspiration (temporarily) for the HDH, and my birthday is coming up, I said "fuck it, we're playing some Pearl Jam".

I always cite "Do The Evolution" as an example that shows that Pearl Jam really knows how to cut loose and just fucking rawk, and is proof positive that the Pitchfork quote that Pearl Jam played music "as if punk never happened" is among the dumbest things ever written. This song especially rips live, and is always a treat since Eddie likes to change up a few lyrics, like tossing in a "I'm the first mammal to shit my pants" or "Admire my man, Stone" and embarrass his guitarist.

Plus the video really is a winner for the truly cynical. Its depiction of humanity is dark, but very much true in a sense. Too bad nobody really saw it when it came out, but you can watch it now.

I'm a thief, I'm a liar
Here's my church, I sing in the choir...

We're Off To See The Wolf Parade

A few weeks back, I was lucky enough to see one of my new favorite bands, some shmoes from Canada that call themselves Wolf Parade. I've been listening to their stellar debut Apologies to the Queen Mary pretty much non-stop for the past six months, and in the process have spread some of my obsession to my co-authors. Unfortunately, they were unable to make the trip to the Crystal Ballroom to see the dudes, due to obligations female (Joe) or otherwise (Zhuangy). But you know, sucks to them.

Since I was unsure of the number of our party, I left tickets for the last minute and so had to wait in line for them. While standing in the queue, I met a guy asking if anyone needed tickets. Since there seemed to be little point in talking to a scalper when there were apparently tickets still available at the box office, nobody answered him but me. Once I got his attention, he handed me a ticket, and left before I could get my wallet out to pay him. So, not only was I going to see a kickass band, but I was seeing them for free. Let me feel your envy now.



The show began with a mediocre opening act, who I best described in a text-message that went unsent to Joe as "oh my god, the hippies have discovered electricity". Loops and clapping and repetition were key parts of their sound, so count me out as a fan. The only band that can do loops is Portlanders Menomena, who made a half-appearance of sorts when "Air Aid" came up on the PA in between sets. And really, that was pretty much the highlight of the pre-main act part of the night.

Wolf Parade then hit the stage to thunderous applause from a filled-to-the-brim crowd, which made me wonder how in the hell the show was not sold out. The band was suitably impressed, as guitarist/vocalist Dan kept saying "Wow" as a reaction to the enthusiasm. Then the super-heavy drumbeat of "You Are A Runner And I Am My Father's Son" filled the air, and the night truly began. The band effortlessly mixed songs from their latest album (At Mount Zoomer) and their aforementioned debut, and switched between the "Dan songs" and the "Spencer songs" seamlessly. Spencer songs were especially enjoyable, since he bears a striking resemblance to a friend of the blog, who I will now call "Patches O'Hoolihan", so I had the pleasure of seeing my friend sing all these great songs. It makes sense, since a guy that writes so many songs about ghosts would also be the co-creator of the comic Zombie Force Presidents.

The set was tight and energetic, with the band eschewing only the slow ballads of "Same Ghost Every Night" and "Dinner Bells" in favor of keeping up the pace. "Dear Sons and Daughters of Hungry Ghosts" was a highlight early in the show, as the crowd sang along with some of the best lyrics you'll hear these days. Dan kept the crowd entertained, paying us compliments and alerting us to the presence of his girlfriend's parents in the audience. Shortly after presenting us with that news, he had a quick makeout session with his Spiritual Advisor Dude, to the delight of everybody. We were also informed that "their good friend Isaac" was in the audience, and I quickly tried to find what was surely Modest Mouse frontman Isaac Brock in the crowd (he produced their first album), but dammit I was unsuccessful.



I only had a few problems with the show, and they prevented me from fully enjoying the night. One understandable problem was Spencer's vocals--on the album, they're at least triple-tracked, so choosing only one melody and style in performing took out some of the joy from the songs. However, the most disappointing performance was done in by the drummer. Oh, he played his parts just fine, but when you're playing such fun and easy parts, I want to see some theatrics, some emotion. You play the big hits of "You Are A Runner" and "I'll Believe Anything", you better bash the shit out of your drums with huge hits. His careful playing ended up being kind of a distraction.

The night ended in a triumph, as the band finished with their two closers, the rocking ballad "This Heart's On Fire" and the epic "Kissing the Beehive", the latter of which they managed to fully perform a 10 minute song in about 7. We then were treated to a fantastic encore, with the one-two punch of "Shine A Light" and "I'll Believe in Anything". That one was punctuated with what was certainly the only time in Wolf Parade history that that song was met with numerous stage divers from the crowd. The night ended surprisingly with the goofy "Fancy Claps", and while I would have preferred "We Built Another World", they played that one so fast it made me think I was at a Minor Threat show. Which is not a bad way to end a show at all.