The Real Reason I Want To Be A Lawyer: Part II

Is so I could judicially beat the crap out of people like this guy.



In my contracts class, we discussed the case of Leonard v. Pepsico. Some asshat saw the above ad and decided "I'm going to get myself a Harrier Jet". Of course, this would have been my same attitude when I saw this ad at age 10. But it took some 21 year-old douchebag to try and actually claim the prize seen in the ad.

He of course failed, for a variety of reasons (one, an ad is not an offer and two, it was so ridiculous that no reasonable person could construe it as an offer, for example), but let us not forget Leonard. He saw that there were 7 million Pepsi points needed, and deciding he didn't want to drink the necessary Pepsi products to gain the points, but that he would buy the points as Pepsi allowed, at 10 cents a point. We must also remember the 5 other investors that he got to tag along to get him to raise the $700k necessary to complete the transaction (once he had the minimum 15 Pepsi points, so he did have to endure the Unclean Cola to some extent). Those fuckheads need to be remembered as well.

The only thing I could think when reading the hilarious decision (complete with dissection of the nature of humor (no, seriously)) was 1) I really need to smack this kid and 2) I hope he gets tooth decay. And I think if I was a judge, I'd make this happen.

See, law school isn't totally lame.

MISSING! The Best Damn College Mascot

Deadspin announced yesterday that the beloved official unofficial mascot of my alma mater was kidnapped. Immediate suspicion was cast on a motley crew of three nerds and a large oaf, but that lead in the end turned up nothing. You may ask, why should I care? And I will answer, that you sir, are a callow ass--of course you should, we're talking about the greatest mascot in history, Keggy the Keg!

I initially was skeptical of the news, considering that a similar occurrence had happened years earlier. It didn't help that the page that the story linked to was from 2003. But sure enough, the college paper reported the terrible news, making sure that the disappearance of our faithful Keg was heard by all, before we can read about new data storage centers and a killing spree in Finland.

We here at WDR shall not rest until we hear word that Keggy is returned safe and sound--if there's a scratch on him, you're not getting your deposit back!

Weed, weed and Hennessy (Well, at least the Hennessy...)

Ed McMahon raps

You heard me right: Ed McMahon is now rapping. He's wearing gold chains. He's got hoes. He's back on top ... sort of.

The sad part of this is that Ed McMahon is doing this for FreeCreditReport.com. This, of course, stemmed from his recent financial woes. But I was hoping for full on videos with Ed and, I dunno, DMX? That would be quite the show, don't you think?

And this got me: "I knew I could sing the blues, but I didn't know I could rap." Where is this Ed McMahon blues album? I would like to hear this. I think the WHOLE WORLD would like to hear this.

If you're reading this, Ed, get in contact with me. There are a lot of unanswered questions.

Hump Day Helper -- Goofy Southern-Type Rock 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.

Kings of Leon are a band that I've kind of enjoyed, but never felt any great love for. That being said, I have all their albums, including the new one that came out yesterday, and will pop them in from time to time. In other words, they're not like Led Zeppelin, which I actively avoid when they come up on my iTunes.

You've heard this song before. You just may not have realized it's dirty. Or that it rocks more than you thought. Enjoy the bad hair and the rollicking good time even more so.

And when she gets into your head
You know she's there to stay...

As a followup to Mr. Zhuang's Post

I too am saddened to see the demise of Mr. Zhuang's auto-mobile. We hardly knew ye, random Grandma car.

However, unlike Mr. Zhuang, I have a picture of the deceased here so you can all witness its glory. If I knew how to post a picture in the comments, then I wouldn't have to artificially inflate our post count this way.



And it's good to see Zhuang driving a minivan. He knows the value of the soccer-mom acceleration. My vote for a name? I'm going with Betsy.

I will no longer be able times-travel

And other things of note

There comes a time in a man's life, and I guess that time for me is now, when he must say "goodbye" to an old friend. An old friend who, as Joe put it, could "go back in times."

Today, I said "goodbye" to Grandma.

Not my real grandma, mind you; this was the name of my car. I don't really have a good picture of this majestic vehicle, but I can definitely find something similar on Google images. Look here!



Anyway, the old girl is gone. We had to send her off to the big car pasture in the sky because the brakes stopped working properly (in addition to a series of lesser issues including: Windows that don't roll down, overheating/self destructive engine, general cosmetic decay, broken tape deck and broken air conditioning). I ended her reign appropriately with a trip to Muchas Gracias for fast Mexican food. So now I'm set for a now vehicle that will change my life forever. Behold!



OK, so I had to get Google Images to help me again. But this is my new car. It does smell like a million cigarettes and a "Vanillaroma" scented tree, but it's my new ride and EVERYTHING WORKS.* I'll be taking this new vehicle for a run tomorrow. Not sure what to name it (Suggestions?) but I'm sure that something will present itself. Oh, and "Whitey" will not be one of those names. Not at all.

In other news, the UO Ducks had an embarrassing play today against Boise State. Granted, they are now on their FIFTH QB of the season after four weeks playing, but still. Luckily this guy Thomas seems to know his shit enough to be reasonably competent. But this loss did end the chance for a perfect season and places the Ducks as #2 to USC in the PAC 10. (Why were we #1 in the PAC 10 over the #1 team in the nation? Well, it has to do with the technicality of having played more games this season. Sidenote over.)

Also, Nic isn't the only one to go to a great concert recently. While my isn't as epic as Nic's, nor is the band as well known, but it still kicked ass. You see, I saw Menomena play at the Eugene celebration. Yeah. And for some reason they were categorized as "punk." The show was short, but great. As the set started, the perfection of the percussion side of the band became apparent. In addition to the fact that these guys can really play any instrument they happen to pick up and alternate vocal duties throughout the concert, they actually managed to get some people dancing. Much of the set consisted of songs off the new album, which I am not as familiar with as I am with their first release. Still, the show was good and ended with the great "Evil Bee" and some nice saxophone action. Then it was off to the bars to celebrate with booze and random women. Yes, it was a good night in Eugene.

Is there anything else to add? Oh yeah - I've been working on this magazine for the last few weeks and have had virtually no social life outside of this immense project. But it's almost done and people will, once again, see me roaming the streets drunk.



Oh, and Joe needs to post something up here soon. We miss ya, buddy!

Hump Day Helper -- Live from above World Famous Ray's

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 had embed-issues with the video I originally was going to put up for the feature (from one of the many cool bands that have albums coming out next week, making 9/23 a sort of Indie Rock Christmas), but I had to scrap that. So we have the song that's been getting me pumped just about every morning before I head off to class, and for about 10 minutes afterward I'm not thinking about sleep.

I think "Me and Mia" gets catchier every time I hear it, so I welcome you to do the same. As an added bonus, here's Ted doing one of his kickass covers.

Do you believe in something beautiful?
Then get up and be it!...

Remembering David Foster Wallace: A Poor Yorick Production

I heard the news late Saturday night, and I could not believe it. David Foster Wallace, dead, by his own hand at the age of 46. A giant in his field, a man with infinite talent, and a tragic loss.

You may be wondering who this David Foster Wallace character is, and why he feels the need to include his middle name. I can't help out on the second question, but the answer to the first is that he was probably the pre-eminent writer of this generation, and it's a damn shame more people didn't realize that. The man was so good that Joe and Zhuangy were both familiar with his style and wit from the random anecdotes that I'd mention from his writing. In fact, when I passed along the news to Joe, he became exasperated and said goddammit, why is everybody good dying this year. And I had no answer for him, though God did--Rick Wright of Pink Floyd would die two days later.


Why do I care so much about the death of this writer? I mean, I had only read one book of his, and bits and pieces of his various essays. But when that book is Infinite Jest, it shouldn't really count as one book--it's drama, comedy, tragedy, drug trip, catharsis, and spiritual awakening that is all crammed together in a post-modern near-future dystopian mess that perfectly captures the spirit of this past decade, all in a tidy 1079 pages. It's incisive and cutting, and introspective and touching, anything and everything. At this point, I'm pretty sure the meaning of life is hidden within those pages. It is the kind of book that doesn't give you any idea as to the context of the story or why anything would take place in the Year of the Depend Adult Undergarment until you're 350 pages into it, and that's just fine.

Actually, when I said I only read one book, it was a half-truth. I was about a hundred pages away from the finish when I heard the news. The only appropriate response I could think to make was to dive in and close it out. So I stayed up late last night, hours later than a guy who needs to catch up on sleep before law classes hit him in the ass for the rest of the week should, and completed the work. And upon completion, I realized I wasn't done, and I was slightly angry. I then went back and started the book again, as I realized that the book really did live up to its title, and upon reaching the scene where Hal and Don G. recreate the digging up of Yorick did I achieve a small sense of resolution.

I then spent the rest of today pondering the various lessons of DFW. With the benefit of hindsight, one can see how large a role suicide and depression played in a generally comic novel and how awful the foreshadowing proved to be. I remembered the passages that dealt with the intense psychic pain of depression, and realized that this wasn't the word of a clinician, this was the confession of a survivor. I tried to piece together the themes of alienation, of politics, of entertainment to the world at large. I remembered the dissection that DFW made of the inherent potential psychological ramifications of the introduction of videophones, and how over ten pages he savagely painted a picture of our vanities and worst qualities, but in an absolutely hilarious light. And that was the true essence of DFW.

It's hard to capture the craftsmanship on display in his work. I believe it's more subtle than not. I found myself going on for pages and then pausing to regroup and realize good god, that was a brilliant passage. It was a genius that didn't often shove itself in your face, but revealed itself over time. And it's a damn shame he isn't around to share it any more--and why the fact that it took CNN until late today to put up a story about him all the more infuriating.

If you're not ready to tackle Infinite Jest, there are plenty of examples of DFW's essays all over the net, and I'll be posting links to them soon. I just hope that as a result of this unfortunate event that at least he'll gain some new fans.

"I'm pretty sure I can now die happy." -- An Evening With My Morning Jacket

It's funny how things turn out sometimes. When I was preparing for law school, I knew I'd miss out on certain things due to time commitments and so on. On the other hand, I wasn't going to miss out on seeing My Morning Jacket live once again. If you don't understand the grave nature of this matter, I recommend you click the My Morning Jacket tag on this post, or let this link here do all that work for you.

I originally cursed the scheduling mastermind behind MMJ's recent tour, who once again put the Oregon date during a time that I would be in school. At least this time they had the courtesy to schedule a show in the middle of the semester, instead of the day after I fly back east. Makes the pain a little easier to swallow. So, knowing that I was going to miss out on that date, I put thoughts of seeing MMJ live on the backburner. Well that was the case until I got a case of "No beer and no TV make Nic Ouzo go something something" during my first week in school, and that prompted me to consult the schedule once again. Damn, no New York dates, except one for New Year's Eve. But...I see a date in Boston. That should be manageable, I've done that trip before. And it's on a Saturday? Fuck, the second I realized this I was on the Ticketmaster website purchasing a ticket at 3 in the morning, details of my travel to be determined at a later date. Hell, I was only semi-coherently angry in seeing my 31 dollar ticket run me over 50 dollars in service fees--I was set to see My Morning Jacket!



A five hour bus ride (thanks NYC weekend getaway traffic!), one night without air-conditioning, and two subway rides later, I hit the Bank of America Pavilion and prepared myself for the evening. MMJ fans had swarmed the Silver Line earlier, packing the bus to the gills (which I guess is what you can call that expandable-rubber joint that extra-long buses have), and the excitement was palpable. We all knew the reputation and all probably watched Okonokos dozens of times, so we realized we were in for something special. The setting looked like it would help--an outdoor amphitheater with the benefit of a giant tent to keep out the elements, a kind of modern circus that befits a band that writes a tune like "Into the Woods".

I was wondering who the opening band was going to be, but with the instruments set up with the trademark Bear in place, I quickly realized that we were not going to mess with a middleman opening act, which was great news--we need all the My Morning Jacket we can get. It also made me glad that I decided to get to the show early, and not gamble on missing the opening act. We didn't have to wait long as the band climbed up on stage and then launched into "Mahgeetah". It's not often that bands have a song that works equally as well as a closer (as it was on Okonokos) as it does an opener (like on It Still Moves), and it didn't take long for the audience to begin to feel the magic as the song evolved and wrapped its warmness around us. How can you not love a song about a man's devotion to his six string (say the song title slowly)...?


The band then kicked into gear with the raucous "Anytime", the happiest goddamn song you'll ever hear about a breakup, with a good helping of the crowd singing along, especially to the part "But what Madonna said really helped--she said, 'Boy, you better learn to express yourself!'", hilariously enough. You follow that up with the slinky "Off the Record" featuring a ripping solo courtesy of Jim James, and you're well on your way to a fantastic show.

After that, we began to hear the new material, beginning with "Evil Urges", and give the audience an idea of how this strange album would play out live. I have mixed emotions about the album, which will probably be hashed out in more detail at a later date, but hearing them live both calmed me and made me realize my worst fears. You get the feeling of fun that is definitely present, but, like a lot of MMJ's work, they straddle the line of good and cheesy a little too much on a lot of the new material. You get the feeling with a song like "I'm Amazed" that the Brosephs identify with it a little too much, and sure enough, you look in the crowd and see your fair share of Broseph (Boston variety, to top it off) looking like idiots dancing along to it. But you know what, I was going to wrestle with that dilemma another night. I had too much great music to listen to.


New material dominated the night, with nearly the entirety of Evil Urges being showcased (though Joe will be disappointed that unlike most shows on this tour, "Librarian" did not make an appearance (and on a sidenote, how come in all the talk about Skinemax-librarian-type Sarah Palin did I not see one comment quoting that song? I'm disappointed in you, internet commentators for that egregious oversight)). Z rightfully got its due, but most of the earlier stuff was ignored. I had gotten a little obsessed with "Lowdown" lately, and sadly it hadn't come up much on this tour--neither had "At Dawn", "Xmas Curtain", "I Think I'm Going To Hell", "Bermuda Highway", or "The Bear". Then again, what I thought at the time were a couple of covers turned out to be songs from the first two albums. With the small applause reserved for those songs (and for "The Way That He Sings", which is inexcusable), you can see how a band that got its big break about 4 albums in wouldn't necessarily feel like delving into the back catalog.

The band was in top form that night, and it felt like they were really feeling the energy of the crowd. Of course, MMJ is a true group of professionals, and who knows if it was merely a routine effort from extraordinary musicians, but they seemed especially keyed in that night, remarking how riled up we were even with the shitty weather rolling in (Hurricane Hanna's outer edges were hitting New England, and leaving the show we felt the brunt of that). Jim was flying across the stage doing his solos, Carl played some blistering leads, and Two-Tone Tommy was holding down the fort at the low-end. It was tough to see Bo, but the underrated member of the quintet had his moments to shine, and the crowd recognized it, while Patrick was his usual goofy self, with his theatrics during "Run Thru" greatly appreciated by the audience. Jim's passion was running especially high that night, and to see him doing his theatrical act with his cloak, or shaking himself to the floor as he sang those unearthly high notes in "Wordless Chorus" was truly a spectacle.

Unquestionably though, there was one true highlight, and both Joe and Mr. Zhuang know what I'm talking about. I've been able to make dozens of people converts (at a 100% success rate) to the religion that is My Morning Jacket by playing just a few of their songs--I start off with "Off the Record", and they think that's pretty cool, then show "One Big Holiday", and they start to feel it, then it's "Dondante", where they get some chills. But there is one song that tops them all, and that's "Lay Low". It's six minutes that make you believe in the full weight of Vonnegut's quote that "The only proof he ever needed of the existence of God was the existence of music", and as my colleagues will affirm, that is no hyperbole. Sure, the first three minutes of it is pretty groovy riff-rock, and you know it might just play well with the ladies--lay low, if the feel is right, I got all that I want in you tonight, and we'll pass out on the bedroom floor after going full-tilt so long--but once the outro kicks in, all bets are off. You have guitars cycling in and out playing various melodies, lining up with the full band after a few bars in moments that are absolutely transcendent.



And that's how we get the title quote--once "Lay Low" was played, I sent a text message cross country to Joe and Zhuangy saying exactly that. All Joe could say was "Shit", with Mr. Zhuang responding with "I think you are right. Lucky Bastard." Of course, for My Morning Jacket, it's no big thing. Lay Low never ends the show, they just roll right into the next song. That's just how they roll.

Hump Day Helper -- Arthropoda 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.

There really shouldn't be a specific reason that I post an awesome song like this. And there really isn't. My iTunes put on White Pony in its infinite ShuffleWisdom, and I was reminded once again how brilliant an album that really was. It's what metal should have been post-'95, but unfortunately it wasn't. And "Change" was the magnum opus of that album, topping even other great highlights ("Digital Bath", "Passenger").

Too bad that the video is a shortened version of the song--I don't think you get the fantastic drumfill that Abe throws in near the end that shows his ridiculous skills, for example. But you do get a nicely shot video with plenty of lasting images that strike the right chord between familiarity and unease.

I've watched you change
it's like you never had...

It's the End of the World As We Know It...Possibly.

But I'd still want some time alone

Patton Oswalt had it right: Scientists are all about "coulda", not "shoulda". And we're going to put that to the ultimate test today as some egghead physicists perform their voodoo black magic and try to recreate the big bang (well, the first few milliseconds or whatever afterwards--I know Joe (if he's still alive) would split hairs over this). While this could be a boon to exploratory physics (how cute, they think they're like Columbus!), there is a potential downside:

The collapse of the universe.


Of course the scientists are trying to downplay the potential risk of all of existence being blinked out. They say things like, hey, if there's a black hole, it's going to be so small, you won't even notice! But like that ugly mole on that dude on the subway's neck, we will notice...when we're all dead. All I know is that you don't fuck with a black hole...and if you do, Sam Neill will try to kill you. But if you're reading this, you're probably safe from Sam Neill. For now.

Then again, if we don't die in a fiery blaze of glory tomorrow, at least we can count on the US being safe in Iraq. People like John McCain would like you to believe it's because of the "surge" (even if he doesn't understand what exactly this means), or if you have a brain, you mention a variety of factors, including Sadr instituting a cease-fire on his militia and the US bringing the Sunni militia onto its payroll. But Bob Woodward has news that you can use--we have a secret weapon in Iraq that's helped us turn one of those corners in the conflict. It's so secret that it's mentioned in the same breath as the Manhattan Project.

So of course we want to guess what the hell is the secret.



My guess is that we're using Iron Man in Iraq. I mean, I saw the movie--he's totally pissed at being kidnapped by random extremists. Plus, Batman's been kind of busy.

Apparently black people and women are stupid

More political crap

So the conventions are almost over and it's almost time for the debates. It's almost finalized (minus some formalities) that John McCain and Barack Obama will duke it out for the presidency with the help of Sarah Palin and Joe Biden, respectively.

But the questions coming from the news coverage is something like this: "Are women ready to support Palin?" and "Obama gives black republicans heartburn."

I think the real issue is that these blanket assumptions are being made. There seems to be this idea that democrat women will throw all of their values out the window to support Sarah Palin because Sarah Palin has a vagina. Furthermore, it makes the assumption that black republicans will throw their values out the window and vote for Barack Obama because he's black. And I guess that black women are just REALLY confused...

Do we seriously think that people are that stupid? I mean, yes, some people ARE that stupid, but I would like to think that a majority of Americans are not that stupid and/or shallow. I would like to think that people take REAL ISSUES into account when they decide who to vote for. I'd like to think that maybe, just maybe, people will make the right decisions based on what really matters to them, not just gender and race.

Then again, maybe I'm wrong...

Either way, the end of this election will be something new: We'll either have our first black president or our first woman vice president.

Hump Day Helper -- In Retrograde 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.

So last week Bloc Party decided to do the whole "drop an album as soon as we finish it" gambit that has proven popular for many artists (see: Radiohead, Nine Inch Nails for great success, Raconteurs, Beck for perhaps not as great success). Sure, it gets them some attention for the maneuver, but without the run-up in promotion, will it kill the eventual sales tally? I'll guess yes, considering that Bloc Party doesn't have the same built-in fanbase that Radiohead or NIN have. Then again, Bloc Party might need all the good news they can get; plus first releasing the album on iTunes, followed by a physical release (with extra tracks!) a month later might have the same effect of promotion. We'll see if it pays off.

People were pretty split on A Weekend In The City, mainly in that it wasn't Silent Alarm Part II. I enjoyed it however, maybe because I realized it was a concept album--the anticipation yet realization of futility of partying in the beginning of the weekend, followed by throwing yourself into the scene, and capped by the eventual regret. If you didn't get that, the fact that a track called "Sunday" is the penultimate track should have given you a clue. While other people may not have enjoyed it, I'll take my heart-pumping "Song for Clay" AND my redemptive "SRXT" any day of the week.

As for the new material...well, it's different. "Mercury" is not really an indication of the entirety of the new album, though once heard with the rest of it, you can make sense of it. But it's a fast-paced electrodance kind of thing, so it definitely fits the bill of the HDH. Plus, the video is goofy. Always a plus.

This is not the time, the time to start a new love
This is not the time, the time to sign a lease
Try not to worry about what's forgotten
Try not to worry about what's been missed...

One man...In a race against time...Lost

Good night sweet prince...

If you're like me, you've been spending most of your day watching the Republican National Convention and waiting for someone to fuck up. (This happened pretty early, actually.) You might also be paying attention to the happenings further south with the hurricanes. Or maybe you've been sitting around looking for banana bread porn. I won't judge you for that.*

But in this massive clusterfuck of news, you might have missed something very important. The great movie preview voice guy has died. He will be missed.

But now the question remains: Who will fill the void? Who has the ability to use a voice like that for our previews? We can't just have words pop up on the screen for us to read. Sure, that works sometimes. But other times we need someone to say those ridiculous lines about "A future where the universe is terrified by Space Vikings..." and other such things. Who could possibly do this?

Only time will tell. I'm pretty sure the eight-headed beast that is the bulk of our entertainment industry, will probably take this and turn it into a reality TV show. I mean, why wouldn't they?

Look for it this fall.



"In a world where TV sucks balls, one man will change the world..."

* Not actually true. Pervert.

WDR Cares: A Labor Day Reminder

We hope you have all been enjoying your Labor Day Weekend, filled with barbecues of roast beast and various other sacrifices to Pan, the Goat God. We just wanted to remind you that whatever activities in which you choose to partake should be done sans-pants, because as we informed you last year, Labor Day is "No Pants Day". And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger if I hear a damn word about you doing anything today while in your pants.

I would also like to point out that if you follow the link, it shows you the problem of what happens when you don't save the picture yourself and instead rely on the kindness of strangers to maintain bandwith. Who knows what the joke was that Joe Reefer was trying to bestow upon us? Where was his demented genius leading us? Instead, we're just left bewildered with talks of the assholiness of Chester A. Arthur.



This post instead shows what happens when you just type random subjects into Google Image Search. You get a page full of sparkly Labor Day .gif's, including this one that might help in the no-pants activities. Perhaps.