Drive Carefully

As a drinker now, I have never driven after consuming alcohol, nor do I intend to. My dad sent me this drunk driving video, and while it is supposed to be a serious warning, it's one of the funniest things I've ever seen. Leave it to the Australians. Don't drink and drive.

Your Butt is Mine

I laughed at this email subject from Amazon.com:

Dustin Sherman: New Michael Jackson

You know I'm bad, I'm bad. C'mon.

Until They Get BRT in Brooklyn, I'm Staying Inside

Dear MTA,

And you thought it would be a good idea to do work on every train line except for the S this weekend, why?

仕事

Dear Employers,

If you are hiring for a job where "written and spoken fluency in Japanese" is a prerequisite, you should not hide it in the middle of the post.

Sincerely,

Common Sense

Semicolonic

Dear Washington Post,

When you title an article "Space shuttle; fugitive ruse; girl dead; school staff deal; Viagra for dog," I expect the items to be somewhat related. That would've been an interesting read; it was really just five lame articles.

Someone Stop This Oil Spill... and Stop Robots

"Officials say they successfully inserted a new pipe into the broken pipe spewing water into the Gulf. That new pipe started sending oil to a ship on the surface, but, just moments later, two remotely-operated robots crashed into each other and knocked the pipes partially apart. The robots were taking photos of the operation."

Damn robots taking pictures like they always do.

Fame-Hungry Food Vendors

Stuff like this makes me ashamed to be a human. Can't these assholes just be grateful someone, even if it wasn't them, notified the authorities and therefore, potentially saved their lives?

Return to Kid Nation

My previous entry was my 100th post, so in order to celebrate, I'm going to watch the eighth episode of Kid Nation. If you need a refresher, you can read my older posts:

Episode 1: A Nation Entirely Peopled with Children

Episode 2: Le Pays Des Enfants, Deux

Episode 3: Kid Reservation

Episode 4: Kid Nation Under God

Episode 5: Cold Sore Nation

Episode 6: Bonanza is Disgusting!

Episode 7: Skid Nation

Also it's a good episode to come back with 'cause you can watch too:

EPISODE EIGHT

Part One

Previously on Kid Nation: Jared fucked some shit up. They found a treasure. Nathan washed mad clothes. Can homeschool kids go to college? What is a recommendation letter worth if it's from your mom? DK is bored. He's ringing the town bell. "We just fed up right now, okay?" I wish I could say I'm super-excited about this, but I am honestly paying more attention to the omelet I made for dinner. Talk about starving for entertainment. It has been decided. A talent show will be held. The black kids love the idea! Because black people have all the talent. You have to sign up in crayon. Anjay doesn't know what stand-up comedy is. I totally just remembered his name without seeing his lower-third. Oh, shit, they might give the gold star to the talent show winner. This is like the Oscars of Bonanza City. Kennedy is a girl who looks like a boy who thinks she's funny but is not. Jared will be performing Shakespeare, but he's never done Shakespeare before. Olivia will be doing stand-up, but will not do jokes on demand. I respect that. A Kentucky dinner will be had tonight. It looks exactly the same as the shit they always eat.

Part Two

Oh, Olivia has a lisp. Maybe she'll incorporate that into her act. Natasha is a debutante and so is Migle. Migle? Who names their kid Migle? Greg and Blaine are gonna throw the showdown so the girls have to clean toilets unless they start working. Alex is attempting to console Savannah, who is homesick. "You're a positive contribution to Bonanza City." "Thank you, Alex." Go home, little girl. There's a Pizza Hut like four miles away. The blue team are gonna throw it, and Anjay is pissed. Showdown time. Paint by letters. But they're not using paint. Instead? Bubble gum. You run to a gumball machine, chew it up, and then hand your ABC gum to your council leader to stick on the canvas. Gross. They are really trying everything they can to give these kids mouth herpes. Oooh, they are those fun gumball machines that spiral the balls downward. Greg admits he'd never throw a showdown, but "there's nothing wrong with a little threat." Anjay's chewing someone else's gum. Sick. Laurel pushes her head together to chew. Her orthodontist is going to kill her for chewing gum with braces. Campbell dances as his crusty cold sores peel off his bloody lips and into the gum.

Part Three

The gum keeps falling off the picture. Green wins! They have finally won upper class. Blue comes in second despite the threat. It figures the snobby girls would be able to help out in a fucking gum-chewing contest. Ten seconds left! No reward. What would they have won? Paint. Who the fuck cares? Or option two: Disco in a box! A motherfucking block party!!! Zach is still convinced this was a real town that failed in the 1880s. Idiot. Savannah hates Bonanza. If she goes home, she'll upset her parents. This is sad. Hopefully this talent show makes things a little happier. That little bitch whose name I don't remember has to wash the clothes. Olivia has never had any stage time. Bad idea. I wasn't very good right out the gate. Markelle is the MC. Hopefully she says "bullshit." The Asian girl plays piano. How cliche. Jared time! A monologue from Henry V. Why did he pick one of the histories? That was pretty awful. All he did was memorize it. No actual acting. Unless you count actin' a foo'. Greg and Blaine are wearing dresses. Faggots.

Part Four

Some black girl I've never seen before sits on a chair and sings. They don't even say her name, so she won't win. Comedy hour with Olivia. All of her material consists of roasting the fellow citizens. Kennedy, or Trannedy, if you will, wears a bird mask and does the washing machine dance. Savannah has an announcement to make. Everyone is positively cumming with anticipation. She's gonna stay!!! Bad choice. "It made me feel better that everyone wanted me to stay." She's just an approval hog. Kentucky love between Savannah and Kennedy. They didn't pick a winner at the talent show? That potato-cooking twat Divad nominates herself again. Looks like it's gonna be between the two comediennes, Kennedy and Olivia. Olivia "definitely brought the fun." Nobody has anything bad to say about Kennedy aside from her confusing lack of genitalia. Apparently Laurel can sing, but she didn't at the talent show. Let's see what happens. As Laurel belts out "Amazing Grace," the black girl who couldn't sing hangs her head in shame. DK gets a boner. He has found his true love. "I love you, DK!" she yells. Aw, shit. Nobody has volunteered to go home. Who will get the $20,000 gold star? "The gold star pioneer is..."

Part Five

Trannedy! "I think my differentness really separates me from the crowd." Holy shit. Differentness is a word? Her mom is wearing a goofy pink outfit that an 8-year-old would wear. Divad's bitching again. Surprise, surprise.

Captivity

I'm no zoologist, but if you have to put up signs like this one, shouldn't these animals not be kept in a zoo?

Endangered Languages

One of the many reasons I'm trying to move back.

UPDATE: Hef Saves Sign

Hugh Hefner has donated the final $900,000 to save the Hollywood sign. His only condition is that the O's have nipples.

In other news, there's a giant white letter B in the hills near me. What does it all mean?

My Mind is Blown.

Seriously, there is so much about this that scares me, excites me, and just floors me. Way more the solution than the problem. Have a listen...

Kentucky Tuna

Asian carp have been invading American waterways, and there is pressure to keep them out of the Great Lakes. In those areas already infested with the carp, chefs and economists are attempting to market it towards the public. Apparently people don't want to eat Asian carp because when Americans think of carp, they think of the bottom-feeding common carp. I think it's just because it's an anagram of crap. One suggestion for a new name is "Kentucky tuna." Yeah, nothing like tuna from a landlocked state famous for horses.

Redundant Headline

Obama extends hospital visitation rights to same-sex partners of gays

By Michael D. Shear

Washington Post Staff Writer
Friday, April 16, 2010

Host Our Coast

I'm in the second round of this competition to host the coast of Delmarva this summer. I want to do it badly, so if you've got a minute, click this, register to vote, activate, and give me 5 stars. Repeat daily until the 24th.

As for registering, I know I'm always leery of doing it for time and security reasons. Thankfully, I am pleased to say this is the quickest, easiest online registration I've ever seen. You just type in your email address, no name, no number, no zip code. They send you one email to activate and that's it. Done. And no more emails after that either. So if that sounds like you can handle it, please do it. And vote for me. I miss the East Coast.

Are You Human?

When registering on JamBase today, they asked the question "Are you human?" and presented the following captcha:

Is this a trick question? Are you not human if you want Judge Reinhold to succeed?

Why Red Light, Green Light Only Works As a Game

I just read this cool article about a Floridian whose wife got a ticket for going through a red light. She claimed the yellow light was too short. It turns out she was right. Please read the rest of this.

Deliciousness Itself

Apparently that's what Mark Twain called the cherimoya. I was at the farmers market yesterday and was curious as to what this avocado/artichoke-looking thing was. I couldn't even read the smudged marker on the sign. "Cherimoya," said the farmer. He took a small ripe one, broke it in half, and gave us the pieces. The inside is a white flesh, with easily discernible black seeds. Thankfully so, as if crushed, the seeds are poisonous. Is it "deliciousness itself?" Maybe not, but definitely good. It tastes like a banana had a threesome with a pear and a pineapple. (That image is sexier than the fruit's actual appearance.) I decided to stick with strawberries and navel oranges, as the cherimoyas were fairly pricey, but I will be back. Mark my words, cherimoya. I will be back.

Oh, Shit. Mafia Wars is Real?

A real-life mobster in Italy was caught due to chatting on Facebook. You can read the article here.

Fun is Good!

Click me.

Women Only Pay Attention to Perfume

Did you see this commercial during the Oscars?

I really think they missed the point they were trying to make. Unless they were intentionally trying to make the funniest cancer joke ever. 'Cause then they succeeded.

The Woman Hanging from My Ceiling

Here she is.

Really, Have We Gotten This Lazy?

As someone who longboard skateboards, Facebook handpicked an ad for me for Kahuna Creations. They invented something called the Big Stick, which is a pole with skate wheels on it, so you can paddle your board. I realize we live in an instant gratification age and we do less and less for ourselves, but is there a point to this? If we all traveled via skateboard, maybe. But I think most of us use them for fun, and at $80 for the cheapest stick, I think I'll keep using my feet. Curious as to what this looks like? Feast your eyeballs.

One Year!!!

It's been one year since an incompetent 911 operator influenced me to start a blog. If you've read any of my entries, thank you. To celebrate, a young child devouring a mound of poop...

Mystery Job

Another Craigslist finding. It was in the TV/Film/Radio section.

Seeking Motivated Individuals (National - USA)

Seeking persons with strong mechanical and creative aptitude, with good upbeat attitude and the willingness to learn, follow direction and function in a team environment,
likes to work with your hands a must , plumbing and/or electrical and/ or mechanical background a plus, willing to travel ,must have text message and email skills,
no drinking or drug use, ex-military or law enforcement a plus, should be relatively fit, must be a US citizen , have a valid drivers license and a clean driving record.

Any guesses?

Get Baked

New York City schools apparently have no bake sales because the nutritional value and ingredients of homemade goods cannot be defined. So a city panel is voting tomorrow on new rules that would allow students to sell fruits, vegetables, and the 27 packaged items approved for vending machine sale. When's the last time you knew how many calories or grams of sugar were in a banana? And correct me if I'm wrong, but doesn't the level fluctuate depending upon factors such as ripeness? Granted, bananas are probably better for you than chocolate chip cookies, but who would want to buy Spicy Sweet Chili Doritos for a fundraiser? Aren't you more tempted to buy things from bake sales because the treats are homemade? I guess they made this rule like nine months ago, and now they need to bring some fundraising back due to the poor economy. Want my opinion? Bring back the cookies, cupcakes, and brownies too. There's a New York Times' article about this, which can be read here. The most ridiculous thing is the photo they ran with it:

Bacon chocolate chip cookies? S'mores brownies? Seven layer cookie bars? What kind of yuppie bake sale is this? Certainly not one taking place in a New York City public school.

Kumquat Virgin

I went food shopping today and noticed Trader Joe's had kumquats. $2.99 for 12 oz. seemed like a good deal, but what would I know, being a kumquat virgin? My curiosity had been piqued by watching Muppet Babies as a child, but I'd always assumed they were just something invented by Jim Henson, like the weirdo species. Advertised as being entirely edible with sweet skin and tart flesh, that was a definite selling point, as opposed to pomegranates, which I love, but am always surprised when the waste seems to have more mass than the original fruit. Kumquats are about the size of cherry tomatoes, so just looking at them quickly in the store, I imagined them tasting something like a sweet tomato. When I got home and opened the plastic container, I gave the fruits a sniff. They smelled like oranges and examining them closer, appeared to have a similar texture. After popping off the green caps, I washed a few and decided to feast. I hesitantly bit into the skin, which sort of tasted like oranges, but sweeter, a decent first taste. I bit into the fruit flesh to find it orange-like, but sort of like if you dipped an orange in something even more acidic, like I don't know, maybe HCl. It wasn't gag-inducing, but it wasn't super-pleasant either. As I took my second fleshy bite, I hit something hard. A fucking seed. Two actually. And that's where kumquats seem like a waste; their seeds are the same size as orange seeds. Having said all this, I think I ate seven in one sitting.

Pros: Fun name. Fun size. Entirely edible minus the seeds.

Cons: Big seeds. Sour as a mother. Fairly expensive now knowing the taste.

Verdict: Try them for the experience if you must. Otherwise, best used in Scrabble: Kumquat will get you 72 points with no premium squares!

The Return of Dr. Tyrone McLouvrengradstein

I wrote an absurd short story for my blog last year one time when my computer was broken. My computer's fine, but after struggling with my screenplay today, I decided on a sequel to the aforementioned story. It probably won't make any sense without first reading the original story here, but then again, it probably won't make sense either way.

A Curious Case

I pull up to the house around one. It rained this morning, but lucky for me, it stopped just as I was leaving my apartment an hour ago. Ahead on the pavement, a dry spot, larger car-sized. Possibly a Cadillac?

"Shit, I must've missed him," I say out loud. I've gotten into the habit. It helps with my decision-making. And my anger.

"Ah, might as well have a look around." A bird bath. Overgrown. Would've been perfect after this morning's little shower. "What a cruel fucking joke!" I spit onto the greying asphalt.

The upkeep of the exterior is shoddy at best. Crumbling brick, peeling paint. Queer enough, the hedgerow skirting the façade is impeccably trimmed. Like a girl who's trying to impress you. With razor skills? "I shave my face everyday, honey," I say to no one. I rub my fingertips along my jaw line. Bristles. I am impressed.

"I'm gonna check around back," I say. "Who am I talking to?"

No one answers. They never do. I suppose it's better that way. I ate a whole half-gallon of black cherry ice cream once. It took me a week. I've never been prouder.

The tidy row of hedges continues against the side wall, at least the side I'm on. Windows are shuttered. I can't see in.

"Why didn't you just knock?"

Not me this time. I turn to my left to see a male, 6'1", Caucasian. Flower-print dress. Sunbonnet. Metal watering can in right hand.

"Oh, excuse me," I apologize. "I didn't see a car so I thought you might not be here so I thought I'd just check around back and see if you were there and now I see you are but I feel I may have interrupted you and in the first place I should've knocked." He never interjects, and I have to stew with my mishmash of subjects and predicates.

"What is your name?" he finally says.

I race through my mental Rolodex of aliases and decide on the most realistic-sounding option. "John Doe," I reply, smirking at my cunning.

"I'm Dr. Tyrone McLouvrengradstein. I would normally extend you the courtesy of a handshake, but as you can see, Mr. Doe, my right hand is currently occupied," he says, lifting the half-full watering can.

"I've shaken hands before. I know what it feels like." Dummy. Real class act.

"Act what? Do you want me to perform?"

Blast! I'm saying the last word of my thoughts out loud again.

"Again?"

I thought Dr. Scrimshaw had cured this.

The doctor looks at me quizzically. I pause. When he doesn't question me with "This?" I assume the quirk has stopped or he's being unnecessarily polite after I've just trespassed.

"You have."

"What?"

"Trespassed."

Damn it! When will it end? Ah, that's it. End is the keyword. End.

"So, please, Mr. Doe, will you be so informative as to tell me why you have trespassed?"

"As soon as you tell me why you're watering plants when it just stopped raining an hour ago." Great. Back on top.

"I must look positively ridiculous," he says. "I was collecting rainwater with this pitcher, not administering it."

"Oh," I say, feeling stupid. Although he does look ridiculous in the dress and bonnet combo. "Collecting it for what?" I probe.

"Would you like to come inside and I'll show you?" An invitation. Just what I needed without the painstaking ordeal of a warrant.

"Yes, I would."

"Don't hesitate to come into my back door," he says as he steals away around the corner. This could be a trap. He could be waiting on the other side, ready to bludgeon me with his watering can. Cautious, I grip my sidearm tightly.

"Are you coming?" he calls, sounding halfway around the house and not sneakily waiting to give me my deathblow. Clenching my sidearm, I quickly round the corner to see the doctor twenty feet away at the back door. With a sigh of relief, I release the tiny arm that protrudes from my ribcage. Having absorbed most of my brother in the womb, my sidearm is all that remains of him. Perhaps he is the no one I'm always talking to.

The door leads into a laundry room. I look for clues, but see none that interest me, only shredded bloody clothes, a driver's license, and keys to a Cadillac. I need a body. The laundry room opens into the kitchen, where the doctor leans against a countertop. On the tile floor, I notice a small placard: LAB. "What's lab?"

"It's a breed of dog." The doctor seems okay with my snooping, so I have a look around.

A door with a sign on it. The lettering matches the LAB. "Where's this door lead?"

"It's where I practice my speeches. There's a mini-auditorium and I've created a crowd entirely composed of wax figures of celebrities. Would you care to see? There's a spare seat at H6. I never anticipate a full house."

"No, thank you," I say, being nice. That actually sounds a little too weird for me.

To my right, a refrigerator. Freezer on bottom. Two postcards held up by googly-eye magnets. One is titled Yellowstone at Night over matte black. I chuckle. The other is from Myrtle Beach and depicts several men in neon-colored thongs. "Have a good time in Myrtle Beach?" I ask over my shoulder.

"Never been," replies the doctor.

"You stinking liar!" I yell, pointing to the butts.

"That postcard was sent to me. Do you often purchase postcards for yourself?"

"No," I lie. I always opt to buy postcards of the places I've traveled. My photography skills have never been that amazing, at least one of my three thumbs always finding its way into the frame.

"That postcard was sent to me by a man named Jonathan Kreplark."

Bingo! "Dr. McLouvrengradstein, I'm a private investigator. This is my card," I say, offering one from my alligator-skin case. I watch the doctor struggle to read it, as everyone does. "Hold it up to the light," I suggest with a smile.

The words appear. "Invisible ink," I boast.

"Cute trick," he says, handing it back.

"I'm shocked at your refusal," I say, pocketing the card and case, secretly counting my blessings, as I have to make more and I'm running low on lemon juice.

"I'm shocked your name is Walter Ditmas and not John Doe."

"An alias."

"You had me fooled," says the doctor genuinely.

"I'm sorry."

"It's quite alright. But I also must say I haven't been entirely honest with you," he plays skillfully.

"Oh, really?" I egg on.

Gesturing behind me, he says, "Behind that door does not lie an audience of waxen stars of the stage and screen. It's just my basement."

"I figured as much. That seemed a little odd to me."

"I know. You told me."

How much have I been saying?

"Less than you think," he says.

"I just said that?" I demand.

"You did. But aside from your comments outside and just now, nothing else."

"Whew," I say.

"You just said that."

"I know." I'm getting testy. End. "Doctor, Jonathan Kreplark has been missing for two weeks. Do you have any idea of his whereabouts?"

"I wish I could help you, Mr. Ditmas, but that postcard was our last correspondence, and that was easily a month ago. You can check the cancellation date on the back."

"That won't be necessary," I say, immediately regretting my decision. How to recover? "May I see your hands?" I can tell so much about a person just by looking at their hands. Not anywhere on the level of palmistry, but type of work, hygienic habits, how many fingers they have.

"But of course," he says, proffering them.

Some left-handed writing required, washes after peeing, eleven. Damn. "Thank you. I'll be off," I say, defeated.

"It's an absolute shame you came all this way for nothing. Would you like to see my boudoir?"

Boudoir. Ladies dressing room. The photos. Karen was saving herself for marriage. She handed me a perfume-scented envelope the night before our wedding. "Don't open this until tomorrow morning," she whispered. I honored her request, and broke the seal over my morning granola. Karen nude on a bed. I had literally never seen such sexy curves. Ten photos, different poses, each one more suggestive. But who took them? I flipped one over to find a backprinting. Fred Biffman's Boudoir Photography. Fred Biffman laid his eyes upon Karen's naked body before I did. I waited until the reception to do it. Inserting the photos into the Power Point slideshow was easy; explaining that I had said, "I due," so therefore the marriage was void, was not. God, I hope he didn't hear any of that. End. "I would love to."

I follow the man and his swaying watering can up a spiral staircase. Noticing he's not wearing underwear, I avert my eyes to a rather strange-looking chandelier.

We enter the eighteenth door on our right. As suspected, a ladies dressing room. Even one of those folding dividers that I've only seen in the talkies. "Buffalo," I say, having never entirely understood the meaning of the word.

"Thank you. But behind this curtain is something even more buffalo."

Through with his games, I order, "Just tell me what it is."

"It's a true mirror. When you view your reflection in a normal mirror, it is reversed. This mirror does not reverse the image, and shows you how others regard you. Fancy a look?"

"No," I refuse, expecting some cruel parlor trick where I'd see the skinless, bleeding demon that resides within me.

"Why not? You're quite the handsome fellow."

Fearing he's coming onto me, I ask the question that's been on my mind. "Have you ever made love to a man?"

"No," he says, "but I have fucked a man."

To borrow a phrase from the French-Canadian, "Touché."

"Parlez-vous français?" he asks.

"Non, je parle canadien-français." I respond. "But..."

"That was before, of course," he explains.

"I noticed you were a eunuch on the stairs."

"Not just the stairs," he jokes.

We share a good rib-tickling laugh. I feel like I am halfway into my fifth drink at a comedy club, too sloshed to remember I only had to order two. Why am I here?

"The rainwater," he says. "You did that thing again."

End. "Yes, the rainwater," I echo.

"This way." There are two star-shaped doors on the wall. He takes the second and I follow him into darkness.

The stench is unbearable. I hear the door shut behind me. Another door opens and closes. I try the knobs. Locked. A spotlight shines down in the center of the room. A claw-foot bathtub containing a decaying corpse covered in cat fur. But where is that awful smell coming from?

A loudspeaker clicks on. "Walter Ditmas, P.I., your case is closed. Jonathan Kreplark is in the basin before you. I'm using the rainwater to dissolve his body."

I can barely hear his words. What is that fucking smell?

"Years of pollution have caused the rainwater here to go from a normal pH of 5.6 to a more acidic 4.2."

"That's only the acidity of tomato juice!" I blurt hurriedly, trying not to swallow any more of the putrid air.

"Very good," says the doctor, surprised by my chemistry knowledge.

They did call me Litmus Ditmas in high school.

"Litmus Ditmas, eh?"

"Shit, I'm doing it again."

"No, I already knew that. And if you haven't figured it out by now, there is another red fruit more acidic than that."

"You sick fucking scoundrel!" A strobe light flashes, illuminating the corners of the room in a macabre dance. Cherries.

"You felt you had bested your allergy when you ate that ice cream. But you should've read the list of ingredients more carefully. Artificial cherry flavor. You are locked in this room. The only way to survive is to eat the cherries or the deceased flesh of Jonathan Kreplark."

"Curses. Curses on you and your mother's grave!" I scream.

"You can tell her yourself. Her bones are at the bottom of that tub."

I vomit whatever's left of my lunch. Looks like half a burrito and a Daffy Duck Pez dispenser. I know I've been beaten. Grabbing a fistful of the wretched fruits, I shove them into my mouth, pits, stems, and all. As I go into anaphylactic shock, my sidearm sticks up its puny middle finger in a final act of defiance, and goes limp.

FAT Toddlers

This is no joke. This is copied straight from Craigslist.

FAT Toddlers (Hollywood)

A major production company is currently looking for Obese/Overweight Boys and Girls ages 3 years to 5 years for one afternoon of work.

We are seeking all ethnicities. However, the children MUST clearly be physically obese/fat.

There is a very short time commitment for this project- 1 to 3 hours if you are selected. Pay is $464. Selected talent will need to provide the necessary minor documents to work on set.

If you would like to be considered, please email the following information to jklcasting@sbcglobal.net:

1. Parent Name/Child's First Name
2. Contact Info - Phone number (s)
3. Your Child's age
4. Your location
5. Picture(s) of your Fat Toddler

Be Sure To Include “FAT TODDLER” in the subject line.

Apparently they did some study, and the magic number of cash required to totally admit to being a worthless parent and ruin your child's life is $464.

In Honor of Presidents' Day...

Happy Friday the 12th!

Hollywood Sign

There is a chance that Cahuenga Peak, the land surrounding the Hollywood sign, could become developed as was once its intent. If another $5 million isn't raised by April, this could become a reality. The issue is that the sign has become a symbol of Los Angeles, likened to New York's Statue of Liberty, Paris' Eiffel Tower, and San Francisco's Golden Gate Bridge. While it is sad that essentially a billboard is equated to the previous structures, it is true. The sign is a protected landmark and will remain, but filling the hill around it with mansions will definitely hurt its iconic appearance. But am I concerned? No. In fact, I'm wondering why one rich fucking actor doesn't donate the remaining $5 million. Shit, get ten rich actors to split the cost. No doubt this money could be better served to assist Haiti or help with the national debt, but if that land is sold so rich motherfuckers can live in mansions on the hill, I will believe the rumors that this town has no soul... and leave.

Here's The New York Times article 'cause for some reason, the Los Angeles Times article sucked.

Here's an interesting site with the history of the Hollywood sign.

Noooooooooo!!!

Google just ran that absolutely classy Super Bowl ad and now they're gonna turn Gmail into Twitter? Please wake me up from this awful dream.

Google is getting ready to add social-networking features into Gmail as it attempts to jump-start its social Web strategy.

Gmail users can already set their status within the service, but Google plans to expand that into a stream of status updates found in services like Facebook and Twitter, according to sources familiar with the company's plans. Users will also be able to share photos and videos through the service, which is expected to launch shortly.

Read the rest of the bad news here.

Top 3 Super Bowl XLIV Ads

I found this year's crop of Super Bowl ads insanely disappointing. Could it be because every ad was for Doritos, Bud Light, or those stupid fucking Etrade babies? Maybe it was because several ads stole their plots from The Simpsons, and the one that actually had The Simpsons sucked. Perhaps it was because more than one ad featured that staring hamster from three years ago. Whatever the reason, I figured I'd narrow it down to the top three, which was pretty easy.

3. Bud Light - Auto-Tune

With about 20% of all Super Bowl ads for Bud Light, they had to get it right once. The end is really the only good part, but I like it.

2. Denny's - Birthday

The element of surprise.

1. Google

I can't even explain everything that is right with this. From the typing errors to the subtle soundtrack, everything works perfectly. My only beef would be that Wikipedia is used as a source. For me, this is one of the most brilliant commercials I have ever seen. It's right up there with what I consider my favorite commercial ever...

The Google one really proves that bigger is not always better. Tell a good story. Crazily enough, the milk ad was actually directed by Michael Bay. It would serve him well to watch his best work again.

Blogging for Dummies

I'm at the library, and a woman just pulled a copy of Blogging for Dummies off the shelf. Hmmn.

Blurt It!

The funniest thing I've read all day.

The whole website is hilarious. It's like they combined Yahoo! Answers with a bunch of retarded kids.

Car Insurance

That guy? Then I'll pass on your insurance; thank you very much.

The Whole Conan Thing

I figured I'd be late to the party again and weigh in on the whole Tonight Show thing. I watched on Hulu for the past two weeks, and the shows were some of the best television I've seen in a long time. (Aside from last Friday's show, which was just okay by comparison.) Conan's speech towards the end of the final episode actually got me teary-eyed. I guess I don't have too much else to say, as I'm trying to put Conan's words on cynicism into practice.

Here's his farewell speech in case you missed it, or tried to watch it on YouTube, but it was taken down.

Top Albums of 2009

The Top 10 Albums of 2009

10. Brian Bonz & the Dot-Hongs - From Sumi to Japan

I saw these guys open for Nightmare of You, and was pretty much stunned by how good the lead singer's voice is. His stage banter is some of the funniest I've heard too. The mix should focus on his voice a little more, but if you lie down and listen to the album, you will be rewarded.

9. Dave Matthews Band - Big Whiskey & the Groogrux King

"If you don't like this record, you're a fucking retard," said Dave Matthews behind the scenes of the Fuse documentary I worked on. Bold words from a guy whose albums I'd never listened to, so I gave this one a shot. The musicianship is excellent, and I'd venture to say that there are even a few retards who would enjoy this album.

8. Nightmare of You - Infomaniac

Their eponymous debut is my favorite album, and while this sophomore outing is good, I can't help but say I'm a little disappointed. The departure of two members of the band, including their amazing drummer Sammy Siegler, and the fact that the "demos" posted on their MySpace didn't seem to be re-recorded for the album, hurt it a little.

7. Trevor Hall - Trevor Hall

I heard a song by this guy playing in my brother's car, and I asked his wife who it was. She told me it was Kings of Leon, which shocked me 'cause it didn't sound anything like Kings of Leon (It didn't suck.). It doesn't suck. It's a nice blend of rock, folk, reggae, and East-Indian styles with songs you can work out to or get high to. I've only done the former so far.

6. Maxïmo Park - Quicken the Heart

Ah, the third album. This one ends up fitting the cliché quite nicely, taking equal parts from the enthusiastic first album and mature second to make a blend that can now be defined as their sound. While I still prefer their debut, this one is quite refreshing and probably their most accessible.

5. Sea Wolf - White Water, White Bloom

In the midst of my cross-country journey, I saw Sea Wolf perform at Saint Louis University. I bought their new album, and it stayed in my CD player for the rest of the West. (I listened to my iPod mostly, but if the radio signal had too much interference, the CD player would go on.) Very cohesive set of tunes.

4. Phoenix - Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix

I think it borrows a little too heavily from It's Never Been Like That, but that was a great album, so it makes sense that this would be good. Not a substitute for their spectacular live show though.

3. Metric - Fantasies

Some people dismissed this album for its production, and while it does sound a little different than the previous discs, it's still Metric. Hear and see the songs performed live and you'll realize that. I can't stress enough how important it is to see these bands live.

2. Jupiter One - Sunshower

I picked up a random CD one night at Fuse, and it was this. It was the CD in my player until I got to St. Louis. I even had the pleasure of seeing them during my stop in Cincinnati. A really solid rock/pop album. Take a chance.

1. Fun - Aim & Ignite

The soundtrack of my summer, and a great album to fall in love to/with. There are so many different sounds on this album from the ELO-like harmonies of "All the Pretty Girls" to the steel drums of "At Least I'm Not as Sad (as I Used to Be)" to the gospel choir of "Barlights." It's all held together by the distinctive voice of former-Format singer Nate Ruess. I read an article where someone pegged his voice as "off-Broadway," and yes, there is a certain theatricality to it. Add all this together, and I'll be damned if you don't get an experience that is exactly the name of the band: Fun.

Happy Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Day!

Why do I love auto-tuned MLK so much?