Negative stereotypes of the Creole-Cajun-Acadian heritage outweigh the positive for me . For the first 25ish years living in Lafayette I felt embittered by the culture -- having waited tables and witnessing first-hand the bottom of the etiquette/class barrel. Then, in college, enduring the incessant party subculture that wears a previous night of intoxication as a badge And I wondered, am I the outlier? Am I missing a redefined bell curve that esteems party life over the relatively tame pursuit of a solid education? Above or below?

It took years, sadly in a posthumous graduation period, for me to realize that both were somewhat true. Perhaps with a more stalwart sense of belonging I could have realized that the best of both worlds was possible, but I was young(er) and hoisted misconceptions about human interaction, which drove me to externalize the pain.

My bitterness was ostensibly against others having their debaucherous times with friends on weekends and overhearing tale regalia on Monday, which hammered nails into my brain (hence my penchant for the portable CD player, predating the iPod). I realize now that these were self-inflicted torments; that I and only I chose not to participate under my self-delusional excuse of "rising above,” but sincerely out of fear and self-doubt.

Mine was the perspective of an ingrained outlier, looking in at what seemed a utopia and conjuring rationale as to why I fell below its standards, which I inherently knew were false.

The rub is that conscious awareness and internalized beliefs are almost impossibly disparate.

I’m part of the robot working force. The ants go marching innumerable by innumerable. Not surprisingly most of my co-workers are racist, at least latently. I find myself occasionally tempted to acquiesce the degradation to fit in, to be accepted. But I don’t, which is not worthy of commendation in and of itself. Commendable would be me assailing my co-workers, including the big boss, about their racist tendencies which flow from their mouths like dip spit, which they also practice.

What else are we to do though, beside put up with our jobs? How much actual freedom do we have? You know what, NOT MUCH. Because large corporations treat people -- emplyees or not -- as commodities. They get away with it because none of us question their motives.

Our President would never lie! By George, he went to Harvard! No one could be THAT self-deluded?

Why not? Human nature is NEVER something to be over- or under-estimated. We are mo0re often than not even hypnotically held captive by prime time TV. American Idol, CSI, supposed "news" programs. Did you know that 4 (four) of the largest news broadcasting corporations are owned by the same company (Viacom, who also owns Disney)?

My self-aggrandizing synopsis is this:

I hope our wisdom will grow with our power, and teach us, that the less we use our power the greater it will be. (a Thomas Jefferson idea)

Post from the past

I wrote and saved this in November of last year and just read it today. Then I think about what a difference six months makes:

This will come across as incredibly cynical, perhaps rightfully so, but there isn't a modecum of self-pity involved. I have no dreams. I don't aspire to be a rockstar or an author or to have fame or glory or anything (anymore).

For the longest time I've struggled vehemently with what it is I want to do with my life. But I recently arrived at the realization that you don't always have to have dreams or lofty ambitions. What's so bad about being content with existence, with discovering value in menutia (deemed such by our culture).

I still love music. I love imbibing it and hopefully one day crafting it. But I'm not going to flagellate myself anymore for a misspent youth devoid of honing skills that I wish I now had.

My relocation bug is recharged. The substantive things keeping me here are kindred friends that barely constitute a handful (if you have to ask...) and of course the comfort of familiarity (which is supposed to breed contempt? What the fuck?). Point being, I'm stagnating. Once I thought I was destined for great things. Not that long ago, actually. But now I'm just aging, seemingly the only talent I've mastered during my tenure with the mortal coil. And it's noone's fault but my own, yet exacting change seems to be some herculean task for me.

But I sit here in this freezing aparment with my wine and my cat and wonder about the existence of this internal conflict. What am I clinging to? I want to give my possessions away (scavenger bells resound in the heads of my readers). I want bare walls. I want to be surrounded by art and books and music and all that is not this, and to be attached to nothing. And listen to my sad-sac soundtrack of 2006.

I don't want to feign joviality around people (especailly family), a relatively timid pain compared to "airing" grievances to which they proffer their simple solutions.

Religious Dyslexicon

How rad* would it be if dyslexia were actually called drawkcab? Or Backwords?

I've always felt uncomfortable capitalizing "God" or even using the word "God" so I always just use "dog" in lieu. Somehow citing the concept dyslexically** seems ambivalent with regard to religious denomination.

Organized religion confounds everything. EVERY thing. I don't remember who came up with the metaphor of Christians trampling each other to death for a better look at Jesus dying on the cross to illustrate modern organized religion, but I think it's poignant.

My golden dog is my little laughing Buddha that Anna gave me (it is literally golden). I prefer the symbolic representation of my life's philosophy*** be a laughing chubby guy sitting down in a comfortable robe than an emaciated, bloody, tortured soul (albeit an heroic one who I esteem immensely as a person) nailed to a telephone pole. It's such an acerbic icon.

Why not portray a smiling Jesus, hugging a poor child or embracing a sick person? It's as if the intent of the crucifix is to intimidate people into believing instead of inspiring them to. The fire-and-brimston Jonathan Edwards crap is just textbook terrorism.

*I'm dusting off the word "rad." I'm bringing it back baby.

**Another word I've invented. Add it to "ignorami" (plural of "ignoramus"). It's a very useful word when discussing the South and/or politics.

***Buddhism is not a religion to me. I don't have a religion. Gleaning the positive aspects of Buddhism, and many religions, compromise my "life philosophy." It just works for me.

The Arcade Fire

Neon Bible (2007)


I can't over-emphasize how much I love this album. It may be my favorite of the year so far, even over the new Of Montreal.

Relocation Chronicle: 5 days left

Yesterday I sold my gargantuan television and actually managed to get it down the stairs thanks in large part to Tiffany's boyfriend Mike. Many, many thanks senor. Also, and this may be a moot point in today's age of flat-panel everythings, but I will NEVER acquire another CRT television or monitor in my life. I have my small 13" bedside set, but that's the limit.

I'm having Goodwill pickup my mattresses on Thursday. I ordered a brand new Sealy queen-size bed which will be delivered to my new apartment during the early evening on the day I fly into NY. I got a pretty good deal on it (look at me, Jewing up already!).

So now all I've really got to do is ship out my two large boxes of crap (not really crap -- my computers, sound system, clothes) and I"ll be good to go.

My roommate's name is Chen and she sounds like a super lady.

Back to work tomorrow. These last four days are going to be the longest I've had at this job.

That Which is Known as Coulter

Contrary to popular opinion about her I do not believe Ann Coulter is a man. Definitely mannish, but not a man. She called John Edwards a faggot, perhaps because she's more of a man than he, and most males on the planet, in which case there are just tons of faggots in Ann Coulter's world.

Is "faggot" the "nigger" of the gay world? It always struck me as a pejorative in popular culture, which I have no doubt Coulter intended it to be.

But anyway, my theories on Ann Coulter:

1. Ever see the South Park episode about metrosexuals and Queer Eye for the Straight Guy? She's one of the crab people. Walks like crab, talks like people... Craaaaab people, craaaaab people....

2. Sigourney Weaver somehow conceived a child from a prop in Alien which resulted in the birth of Coulter. Check Sigourney's stomach for the scars resulting from a goo-laden demon baby popping out of her gut.

3. She's really Andy Kauffman.

4. She actually died ten years ago but the same evil forces that got Bush into office twice force her limbs and jaw to move and sounds to spring from her mouth. Those forces don't have enough juice to keep her from decomposing and resembling the crypt-keeper because they're too busy doing that for Dick Cheney.

5. She isn't really the bitch-harpie she portrays while in the spotlight but is merely putting on an at least partial facade for publicity and money. Sure, it's soulless and has a devastatingly draining effect on discourse in this country, but if you look at it strictly from a Gordon Gekko standpoint and dehumanize it (Republicanize it), it's not a dumb idea.

I fault the people who insist on giving her the stage. CNN, FoxNoise, etc. Mitt Romney is the perfect microcosm: you can't continually give someone the microphone one minute then denounce what they say the next. It's like the phrase "with all due respect." You can prefice a statement with it but it's not a get-out-of-jail-free card for whatever you say next.

Die!

Valentine's Day is starting to become my favorite time of year. I realized that I actually enjoy being embittered by the whole charade of showing someone you love them on just one day of the year by buying sugar and flowers that die within a week. Maybe I'd feel different if I ever get "in love" and get that trippy dopamine flowing. Not that I'm being a total negative Nancy , it's just not really in-line with my persona.

But is it strange to sometimes find comfort in bitterness or depression? It's probably not a great thing that familiarity with negative emotions breeds comfort, but isn't it better to embrace and accept certain truths, such as sadness and anger, than be constantly at odds with them? I say anger but really I mean bitterness. Anger is something I try not to hold onto.

Positive spin: I save money by being single on V-day. And just about every other day of the year except maybe April 15.

DVD Rage

Superbowl commercials are attractions in and of themselves, usually better and more creative and entertaining than run-of-the-mill commercials. Does that mean advertisers don't bring their A game the rest of the year? They just try harder for the Superbowl? It doesn't add up. It smells of bunk.

Regardless, I didn't watch. X-Men 2 was on Fox. I still cry when they off Famke Janssen, even though I know she comes back in III. I'm sorry, you just don't do that to Famke.

Scratched DVD's are the bane of my existence. Watching a good flick, engrossed, completely unaware of the outside world, and halfway through the fucker dies on you. I was watching The Devil's Rejects which, while not award-worthy, was entertaining the shit out of me. Gore and boobies. What's not to like.

So it skips and will not play, so I star-wipe from a slasher flick to a PBS special about the history of the supreme court. Also entertaining, but a rough transition.

Saw III came in the mail today and if it skips I'm putting it in the microwave. I'm not kidding.

Try to Ruminate Peeps

I am a comptuer dentist with regard to customers, suppliers and co-workers -- always, ALWAYS pulling teeth. Funny since most of our clients are actually dentist offices. The idea of randomly picking a (blue, northern/coastal) city and relocating there is so appealing. Manifest destiny.

Although I'm chronically manic to the point of having these delusions of mediocrity several times in a single day, so I tend to eschew great ideas sans fruition.

I'm tired of my tack-spittin' bosses and co-workers. I'm very acerbic when feigning the role of man's-man; it makes me feel phony every time, and the brain actually says to me "what the FUCK are you doing" to which I reply "let me alone, just go back to pondering tits."

I have some savings. Maybe I'll just quit and live off of them for a couple months.

Also I'm weary of the feeling that the few friends I have are either thus because of guilt or lack of better things to do, or that I'm generally Daddy Warbucks when tabbing it up in the wee hours of the morning. Neither instance seems to nourish the old self-esteem, ill-conceived as the whole idea may be.

I don't know how else to be charming and entertaining without the aid of some foreign agent. Incessantly I question what it is about myself that's real and what is drug-induced. And I'm not even talking narcotic- or alcohol-induced moments. Just the usual Paxil-Wellbutrin cocktail that's been a part of my life for years.

Constantly I ruminate about what I have to offer others in regard to "friendship" and it's a short list that's produced when I don't factore in a penchant for the Lafayette drinking/music/place-to-be trend. What is it that makes one person earnestly want the company of another? Currently that requisite is so complex in my psyche that I'm dizzy. But ios it really complex?

I'm probably just in a state of perpetual adolescence -- worrying about popularity and what inane trends are in style that I must partake in to attain acceptance. It reminds me of a dialogue from Little Miss Sunshine:

Dwayne: I wish I could just sleep until I was eighteen and skip all this crap- high school and everything- just skip it.

Frank: You know Marcel Proust?

Dwayne: He's the guy you teach.

Frank: Yeah. French writer. Total loser. Never had a real job. Unrequited love affairs. Gay. Spent 20 years writing a book almost no one reads. But he's also probably the greatest writer since Shakespeare. Anyway, he uh- he gets down to the end of his life... and he looks back and decides that all those years he suffered- Those were the best years of his life, 'cause they made him who he was. All those years he was happy? You know, total waste. Didn't learn a thing. So, if you sleep until you're 18... Ah, think of the suffering you're gonna miss. I mean high school? High school- Those are your prime suffering years. You don't get better suffering than that.

So what if the most fruitful and developmental periods in you life have passed by without you realizing it? Are we just supposed to hyperanalyze those moments ad nauseum? And, I'd say I'm going through some pretty drastic periods of suffering currently. I just wonder how long it will be before I appreciate the wisdom I glean from the seemingly constant tumult.

My sincerest apologies to all of you for having subjected you to drunken Phillip. Just realize that it's a personal paradox: not drinking means you'll never see or know me. Drinking means you'll see me at what I could codify my worst. It's a personal cart and horse.

Anywhere and Anyone else but Here and Me

I'm going to try to include more pictures in every post I write, just to make it more an appealing reading endeavor.

If rollover minutes are any indication of lifelessness, then color me king. I now have over 3,000 rollover minutes stemming from months of not meeting my 450-minute allotment. I should be happy but that's just not my modus operandi. I'm more Eeyore.

Just through my own nature I'm trigger-happy to consider myself worthless, intolerable (intro- and extrovertly) and a social brigund-by-bribery. And I'm either hyper-absent-minded or just way more retarded than I give myself credit for.

I write this becaus I know those of you reading it know me well enough to realize that I am anything but "sorry for myself". If anything I'm enraged at myself for being in such a state, for not somehow being a stronger person that doesn't allow himself to get into such foolish mindsets.

I'm on the verge of becoming a 30 year-old bachelor with cats living in a one-bedroom shithole that frankly and sadly Im lucky to have. Maybe a nice coat of paint would cheer me up, or at least get me high. God bless lead-based (say it five times fast).

It's just been an unusually viceral period of shit for me lately Maybe if I started stealing stuff I'd feel a little less... sedated.

Currently Listening to:
Francine

28 Plastic Blue Versions of Endings Without You (2003)

Sweet Sweet Lady Vice

Lately my vices have been steering me towards an Adam Ant inclination to not drink or smoke at all because I have very little self-control once I start the liquid intake. Thusly my social relationships suffer, my bank account REALLY suffers, and my diet regiment suffers.

I can successfully give up all of the above, but the rub arises in that I don't socialize hardly as much if I'm not planning on partaking in the aforementioned saucery. I can go weeks at a time without drinking or doing anything remotely unhealthy, but during those times I barely even speak to anyone.

Conversely, I drink and feel compelled to talk to EVERYONE, regardless of the time or topic or appropriateness. In retrospect the blackouts are a blessing.

So the obvious answer is moderation, you would think. But I am not capable of moderation. If I have a buzz then I'm at a point of no return (my life in the 21st century has basically become a compilation of lyrics from the 80's). Frankly the people who say "well just stop when you get a buzz" irritate the semen out of me. Chemical dependence isn't something you can really understand unless you have it in some form or fashion, but I at least expect people to sympathize with the fact that certain things are exponentially more difficult for others than for themselves.

For instance, I smoke when I drink and sporatically on other occasions, but I've never had even the slightest problem giving up cigs for an entire month. I'm not such a jackass, though, to assume that it should be that simple for everyone only because it was my experience.

Ultimately I'm looking for advice here. My life has always been one of extremes, so much so that I may be incapable of happy mediums, no matter how many hours I sit under my happy-place tree.

Currently Listening to:
Sing-Sing

Sing-Sing and I (2006)

Out with the Old, Incompetent, Corrupt, Certifiable and Delusional, in with the New

On MSNBC right now I'm watching coverage of the induction of the 110th Congress and I'm getting misty. Honest-to-dog misty!

Nancy Pelosi is now third in line from the presidency, so the very real possibilty exists that she could become the first female president should congressional investigations go where they likely will and definitely should.

John Boeher (outgoing majority leader) just passed the gavel to a liberal from San Francisco, Pelosi, and for a woman in her late sixties she looks pretty good! Or maybe the thought of a female speaker of the House just gives me a big rubbery one.

Are you upset Republicans? Crying? Can I taste your tears? Mmmmmm yes... drown me in your sadness! Suck on a giant candy made of failure and rejection! Schadenfreude! Champion minority rights now you hypocritical ass plugs!

How does a woman with such power make you feel? Awww... intimidated? Did your penises shrivel up and go inside you? Well, just go out and buy a bigger truck, a bigger gun, kill a very small animal, hire a male escort and score some crystal meth. It's your panacea!

Oh Jesus, she's talking about pay-as-you-go, raising the minimum wage and throrough ethics reform! If I weren't at work right now Id totally be playing with a big spicy boner.

It's been a long time since I had a little hope for our country. Now, llet's bend that monkey-in-chief over a barrel and run a train on him.

More Morbidity

So Saddam Hussein is no more. He wasn't devoured by a pack of wild dogs, merely hanged. I'm against the death penalty outright but what troubles me additionally about Hussein's situation is that it seems ultimately that we traded almost 3,000 of our soldiers for what, so far, seems to be one man. At present I don't see any other supposed fruit of this endeavor, nor a rationale for it.

What has resulted is that the Iraqi government is now more aligned with Iran than the U.S., the country itself has descended into civil war, the entire Mideast region will potentially destabilize as Iran and Syria side with Iraqi Shiites (al Sadr's Mahdi army and the Badr Brigades) and Saudi Arabia, along with Egypt and Jordan, financially and potentially militarily aiding Iraq's Sunni minority. There is also a possibility that Turkey will invade the Kurdish regions of northern Iraq.

So someone please tell me what glimmer of progress has resulted from this illegal invasion and occupation. Saddam killed 300,000 people in the early 80's (while the the U.S. government looked the other way -- there's that infamous picture of Donald Rumsfeld shaking Saddam's hand three months after committing the crime he was just executed for). International Red Cross estimates put the number of Iraqis killed since the American incursion somewhere around 600,000.

To put that in perspective, given Iraq's population is roughtly 10% that of the U.S., imagine six million dead American innocents.

By no means do I imply that Saddam Elizabeth Hussein was anything less than a monster, but I can't help but feel that the world would be better off were he still in power.

Now back to my game of Scrabble Blast.

Little Wooden Boy!

Paint me blue -- Blockbuster has shipped disc 1 of The Tick, which means disc 2 will follow shortly thereafter. I'd like to spend New Year's Eve watcing episodes. Spoooooooon!

I read a quote from George Jean Nathan (drama critic in the early 20th century). It goes "A life spent in constant labor is a life wasted, save a man be such a fool as to regard a fulsome obituary notice as ample reward."

The way I would want to die: Not an especially extended and/or painful death, which is probably exactly how the cancer will play out. I'd choose to die from a brand new disease that would eventually be named after me, that way stand-up comics fifty years from now could say, "Wow, Phillip Harmon dying of Phillip Harmon's Disease... who saw that one coming?"

My last words, whispered on my deathbed, wouuld be "no fat chicks." Then I would shit myself.

My tombstone would read, "My only regret is that I died."

Incidentally I want to be cremated and stored in a Folger's coffee can, labeled "Steve" with masking tape, or a post-it note. I leave that to the discretion of the bequeathed. But I still want a tombstone somewhere.

Speaking of which, I'm spitballing the idea of starting a website wherein you can list a deceased loved one's name as an homage, including some information about their life, pictures, surviving relatives, accomplishments, etc. It could also be a good genealogy tool if it were around long enough. Lots of possibilities. Although there's probably already such a site.

Currently Listening to:
Catherine Wheel

Happy Days (1995)

A Year in Half-Assed Review

An automated dialer calls our number saying "I have a very important message concerning your business account..." I love paradoxes, such as a message so important it's delivered via robot.

And now here's something we hope you'll really like. I omitted some questions because they were none's the cool.

2006 recap

JANUARY

1. Where did you spend New Years Eve?
In bed with the flu. Best. NY's Eve. Ever.

2. Did you have a new year's resolution this year?
I resolved to give up a resolution that I kept in 2005 to not eat sugar.

5. Have you ever been to Times Square to watch the ball drop?
I go to my bathroom to watch balls drop BOING.

FEBRUARY

1. Who was your Valentine?
Jesus Christ.

2. When you were little, did you buy valentines for all of your classmates?
Yes

3. Do you care if the groundhog sees its shadow or not?
Punxsutawney Phil! (my porn name also)

MARCH

1. Are you Irish?
I'm a little bit country.

2. Did you wear green on St. Patty's Day?
Probably, at least by accident.

3. What did you do for St. Patty's Day in 2006?
Contently forgot about it

4. Are you happy when winter is pretty much over?
No I am not.

APRIL

1. Do you like the rain?
I am only happy when it rains.

2. Did you play an April Fools joke on anyone this year?
I forget about April Fool's day until about June, and my pranks aren't appreciated then.

3. Do you get tons of candy on Easter?
As a wee lad, yes.

4. Do you celebrate 4/20?
I celebrate Michael Bolton's entire collection.

5. Do you love the month of April?
I love the mouth of April.

JUNE

1. Did you finish high school yet?
I finished high school about 3.9 years before graduating.

2. Did you realize nothing special happens in June?
Father's Day? My dad's birthday, Flag Day, the Summer Solstice, Festival of Popular Delusions Day (the 5th)... what lazy jackass wrote this?

JULY

1. What did you do on the Fourth of July?
Ate Chinese food.

2. Did you go on any vacations during this month?
Mental vacation -- year-round.

3. Do you blast the A/C all day?
Yes

AUGUST

1. Did you do anything special at the end of your summer?
Killed a wombat.

2. What was your favorite summer memory of '06?
Visit to New York Ci-tay!

3. Did you have a sunburn?
A little, once.

4. Do you go to the beach a lot?
Ne'er, although I'd like to.

SEPTEMBER

2. Who is your favorite teacher?
Parker Lewis. He never loses.

3. Do you like fall better than summer?
Yes

OCTOBER

2. What's your favorite candy?
Hot Tamales.

3.What did you do for Halloween?
Hid.

DECEMBER

4. Get anything special this year?
Video camera, known in the future as Exhibit A.

Favorite Albums 2006

Scattered thoughts about the music year 2006:

My infatuations of the year and future polygamous brides: Lily Allen and Chan Marshall. Congratulations ladies! Hey Cat Power, fetch me my TV tray and put it on my tummy!

The Rapture: you disappointed me but luckily The Infadels kinda put out the album you should have, so ne'er mind.

Why don't more people like Persephone's Bees? Because they're all too busy sucking The Hold Steady's balls, that's why. And on the subject of unwarranted nut-garbling, I'm not going to say I hated Silent Shout, but it sounds like any other electronica/rave album I've heard. Perhaps my ear isn't adequately refined or I'm just getting old and intolerant of albums I have to work at to appreciate.

It's supposedly lame to enjoy Muse because they're so Radioheadesque-ish (listen to Rock Kills Kid and tell me it's not Thom Yorke), but entertaining is entertaining I say. And if you're going to sound so similar to another band Radiohead isn't a bad model.

Happy ought-six everyone. Keep on rockin' and procreatin' in the free world (while it's still free). This was almost a top 100 list, but t'was overkill.

1. Belle and Sebastian - The Life Pursuit
2. Persephone's Bees - Notes From the Underground
3. Yo La Tengo - I am Not Afraid of You and I Will Beat Your Ass
4. Neko Case - Fox Confessor Brings the Flood
5. Peter Bjorn & John - Writer's Block
6. Silversun Pickups - Carnavas
7. Asobi Seksu - Citrus
8. Mates of State - Bring It Back
9. TV on the Radio - Return to Cookie Mountain
10. Cat Power - The Greatest
11. Rock Plaza Central - Are We Not Horses?
12. CSS - Cansei De Ser Sexy
13. Figurines - Skeleton
14. The Oohlas - Best Stop Pop
15. Tap Tap - Lanzafame
16. The Decemberists -The Crane Wife
17. Lily Allen - Alright Still
18. Grandaddy - Just Like the Family Cat
19. Sonic Youth - Rather Ripped
20. The Pinker Tones - The Million Colour Revolution
21. Chin Up Chin Up - This Harness Can't Ride Anything
22. Ben Harper - Both sides of the Gun
23. Gnarls Barkley - St. Elsewhere
24. Sean Lennon - Friendly Fire
25. Band of Horses - Everything All the Time
26. Be Your Own Pet - S/T
27. Irving - Death in the Garden, Blood on the Flowers
28. Black Angels - Passover
29. Darker My Love - Oasis
30. The High Violets - To Where You Are
31. Calexico - Garden Ruin
32. Francine - Airshow
33. Muse - Black Holes and Revelations
34. Johnny Boy - Johnny Boy
35. P.O.S. - Audition
36. Viva Voce - Get Yr Blood Sucked Out
37. Whitey - The Light at the End of the Tunnel is a Train
38. Malajube - Trompe-L'oeil
39. Jenny Lewis with the Watson Twins - Rabbit Fur Coat
40. The Infadels - We Are Not the Infadels
41. Head Like a Kite - Random Portraits of the Home Movie
42. The Evens - Get Evens
43. Rock Kills Kid - Are You Nervous?
44. Editors - The Back Room
45. What Made Milwaukee Famous - Trying to Never Catch Up
46. Fujiya & Miyagi - Transparent Things
47. Beck - The Information
48. The Pipettes - We Are the Pipettes
49. Clearlake - Amber
50. Camera Obscura - Let's Get Out of This Country
    

Honourable mention:

Feathermerchants - Last Man on Earth
Portugal. The Man - Waiter: You Vultures!
Centro-Matic - Fort Recovery
Cut Chemist - The Audience's Listening
The Knife - Silent Shout
The Raconteurs - Broken Boy Soldiers
Robert Pollard - From a Compound Eye
Justin Timberlake - Futuresex/LoveSounds
Rainer Maria - Catastrophe Keeps Us Together
The Strokes - First Impressions of Earth
Broadcast - The Future Crayon
Brazilian Girls - Talk To La Bomb
Fiery Furnaces - Bitter Tea
The Rapture - Pieces of the People We Love
The Fever - In the City of Sleep
Joanna Newsom - Ys
About - Bongo
The Mendoza Line - Full of Light and Full of Fire
Hot Chip - The Warning
Tilly and the wall - Bottoms of Barrels
Peaches - Impeach My Bush
The Sounds - Dying to Say This to You
Pretty Girls Make Graves - Elan Vital
Yeah Yeah Yeahs - Show Your Bones
Sam Roberts - Chemical City
Iron Hero - Safe As Houses
Film School - S/T
Shonen Knife - Genki Shock!
Run Run Run - Long Winter
The Elected - Sun, Sun, Sun
Islands - Return to the Sea
The Thermals - The Body, The Blood, The Machine
Home Video - No Certain Night or Morning
My Brightest Diamond - Bring Me the Workhorse
Joan Jett & the Blackhearts - Sinner
120 Days - 120 Days
Greg Laswell - Through Toledo
Eagles of Death Metal - Death By Sexy
The Pink Mountaintops - Axis of Evol
I'm From Barcelona - Let Me Introduce My Friends
Carina Round -Slow Motion Addict
Lisa Papineau - Night Moves
The Rogers Sisters - The Invisible Deck
Tunng - Comments From the Inner Chorus
Angie Reed - XYZ Frequency
Radio 4 - Enemies Like This
Amy Millan - Honey From the tombs
The Essex Green - Cannibal Sea
Creeper Lagoon - Long Dry Cold
Dirty On Purpose - Hallelujia
Pony Up! - Make Love to the Judges With Your Eyes
Devics - Push the Heart
Gomez - How We Operate
Elefant - The Black Magic Show
Psapp - The Only Thing I Ever Wanted
Tresspassers William - Havin
Sing-Sing - Sing-Sing and I
Lake Trout - Not Them, You
Neil Young - Living With War
Guster - Ganging Up on the Sun
Elf Power - Back to the Web
The Great Depression - Preaching to the Fire
Pete Yorn - Nightcrawler
Brnside Project - The Finest Example Is You
UHF - All Our Golden Tomorrows
Smoosh - Free to Stay
Keane - Under the Iron Sea
Danielson - Ships
The Faders - Plug In and Play
Snow Patrol - Eyes Open
Erase Errata - Nightlife
The Long Winters - Putting the Days to Bed
Thom Yorke - The Eraser
Phoenix - It's Never Been Like That
Built to Spill - You in Reverse
Gossip - Standing in the Way of Control

Favorite Flicks of 2006 (I said "Flicks' perverts)

Since I rarely see movies at the theater my list is limited to what I've been able to rent on DVD, but end-of-year lists are fun! So here:

1. Thank You For Smoking
2. Little Miss Sunshine
3. Borat
4. An Inconvenient Truth

That list is lame. I need to get out more.

A Goldman Sachs stocking stuffer

The CEO of the Goldman Sachs investment bank was given a $53.4 million bonus this year, $27 million in cash. Say it with me: holy freaking god. And I was feeling so good today because our boss was kind enough to dole out bonuses for us. Not a huge amount by any means, just a little xmas cheer. Then I read about the Goldman Sachs bonus, and all I can think of is getting home to drink a case of xmas cheer.

When and if I ever reproduce all of my spermies will be investment bankers. I'll tell them, "bitches, it may be boring and not something you enjoy, but probably 95% of the world's population doesn't enjoy their job. At least get one that pays you the GDP of Canada."

In college I was naive enough to change my major thrice (Accounting, Finance, Marketing, General Studies) because I wasn't enthralled or captivated by those fields. Now I realize that I'm not enthralled or captivated by anything (that one could get payed for, at least) and I should have ground it out. Fucking hindsight.

What would you do with an extra $27 million in pocket change? I know what I would do but I can't divulge it.

Tan in your stocking

For Xmas George Bush has decided to send more troops to Iraq. Yes, more. If you didn't previously believe that this man is membrane insane, how's about now?

Over sixty percent of the country wants a drawdown in the number of soldiers in Iraq, Democrats won a majority in congress largely by opposing the war and calling for withdrawal, the (largely Republican) Iraq Survey Group recommended some form of a drawdown in personnel, and the president decides, after all this, to increase the number of fish in the barrel.

At this point you have to think he's taking his marching orders from tea leaves or his pet rock (who he named Bust-Ass). The 40,000 or so troops are being sent over there with no mission or focus or defined purpose. He's dumping more people in there, fuel to the fire, so he can say he's doing something differently.

He IS a child. When everyone tells him he should be doing something he does the opposite, regardless of the stakes. More people will die so he can fan his ego and spite the will of the American people, and so he can keep convincing himself he's right. There is so much I don't understand about many humans.

Bloody Bloody

Last night I watched a DVD called Sick: The Life & Death of Bob Flanagan, Supermasochist. Guess what it was about!

This guy lived with cystic fibrosis for over 40 years -- most people with the disease die in their early childhood. In one scene he nails his dick to a wooden board, hammering a nail right through the head. I knew it was coming and instinctively thought of fast-forwarding, but I didn't. Rare is it anymore that what I see or read or hear arouses any true emotion in me. Bloody war movies or horror flicks don't disgust me, and actually neither did this. Mostly I was awestruck by something I've never seen nor will likely see again. And I learned that an impaled penis bleeds like a hooker on the rag. Wild, wild stuff.

Then I watched Ice Age: The Meltdown. Manny the mammoth forced one of his tusks up the sloth's pucker and the sabre-toothed tiger raped then devoured one of the possums. Odd choices I thought.

Not-so long time loving

To myself I was thinking, "Phillip, your coffee is good," but it's not my coffee. All I do is put grounds and water in a machine and turn it on. It's tantamount to "hey I make great toast." Master an exorbitantly simple machine and you're golden, as is your bread. Although in the day of K-Feds and rich celebrity sluts (mmmm... redundancy) maybe that's not such a given. Cookies are too easily doled out.

Yesterday the BBC ran an article about Indian men not being able to find condoms that fit them, that 60% are 3 to 5 centimeters shorter than international standards. Males are embarrassed to ask a chemist (pharmacist?) for smaller sizes.

India's population is over one billion, about one-sixth of the entire world population. The population of China is also over one billion.

You have the stereotype about the Chinese penis (if you're not privy, guess), and, according to my limited exposure to them as portrayed in movies by Mel Gibson, the Chinese eschew "great shame."

This explains somewhat the tech-savviness of Indians and Chinese though, doesn't it? What do American males who aren't getting laid do in lieu? Get on the internet. Play MMORPG's on the internet (I'll save you the trip to Wikipedia -- massive multiplayer online role-playing game). Download porn on the internet. Chat rooms, cracking passwords, learning all things geek, on the internet.

I know these things because I'm one of said American males.

I'll point out the obvious irony of countries whose males have small penises being overpopulated, but also that the very real threat of global overpopulation might be a result of shame over something noone has control over. Tarnation. Zounds!

Also soy products make you gay, according to an article on WorldNetDaily summarily entitled "A devil food is turning our kids into homosexuals." First SpongeBob and the purple teletubby, now soy?

Someone please think of the children. I could aver more concretely that Evangelism makes you gay.

Currently Listening to:
Malajube

Trompe-L'Oeil (2006)