Saturday, February 28, 2009

Side Post: Announcement

My son, the Alpha of Generation Awesome, has been born!

I'm not gonna go into detail and I'm not going to post a picture of him on a public internet site because I'm not dumb, but I'll give a few details.

He was born at 6:14 PM on February 25, 2009 in Baltimore City. He was 6 lbs 7.6 ounces and 20 inches of pure AWESOMENESS. He and his Mommy are doing great and I'm sitting on cloud nine.

So instead of post his real pic online, I'll give you an idea of what he looks like: He looks like Yoda...


What I imagine his trip down the birth canal looked like

Minus the long pointy ears and the green hue, and..


He's a pusher.

Sugar Bear.

So, needless to say all is well in the world. And on that note, I leave you with this...


This is what he did to the doctor after he smacked his ass.

Leave some love and prepare for GENERATION AWESOME!!

Friday, February 27, 2009

CNN says this is hot...wonder if Paris agrees?

Current Hot Topics, according to CNN, for your reading pleasure...

IRAQ:



Really? I mean, really? We're concerned? NO! You don't say! Shocking!

FACEBOOK:


Now this I think is interesting. Because nothing says "we have no idea what we're doing" like asking the masses for their input on policy. Common sense is an uncommon thing, folks. This bodes not well for anyone.

VATICAN:


You mean the former Nazi-youth Pope isn't happy about an apology from a priest, for something the Catholic church itself had issues accepting sixty years ago? Hmmmmm...no one ever said that religion was lacking in hypocrisy.

Side note: That priest should be publicly spanked. And not in the nice way.

BLACK IN AMERICA:

For some reason, this link wouldn't work.

If you truly feel the need, insert a racial slur here. Go ahead, I'll wait...

::waits, and glares, daring you to do it::

CNN HEROES:
Evidently, you can nomitate your hero on CNN. This girl's nomination? The Radio Shack guys, of course.
PLANET IN PERIL:
Again, a link that doesn't want to work. I'm seeing a trend, here, CNN, and I don't appreciate it.
But really, is anyone surprised that link didn't work? I mean really?
$5 says it eventually takes you to an article that mentions Al Gore at least twice.
FIRST 100 DAYS:
Because you don't here enough about it EVERYWHERE ELSE, we have even more articles. I can't wait until day 101, when things go back to normal.
GAS PRICES:
Ah my south-of-the-border friends, I feel your pain.

Or at least I did, before the economy tanked and our gas prices went down.

Give it a few months, your economy will crap out too, and then you'll be able to afford gas again, provided you actually have gainful employment at that point.
That was not an invitation to cross the Rio Grande.
And that's all I've got, folks. Catch you on the flip side.

The Trial of The Pirate Bay: Get with the TIMES, Grandpa

Welcome to the year 2009.

In the year 2009, we enjoy many modern conveniences. Invisible radiation cooks our food at five times the normal speed. Our television, once static-covered and hard to read, is clear and of very high definition. "Iced Cream" can be purchased from mobile vendors, often the same truck which brings you your weekly stash of illegal drugs. It is truly a space-aged future we live in. But some advances come at the cost of hundreds of human lives and livelihoods. Among the most terrible of these advances? MUSIC PIRACY!!


(...Dun dun duuuun.)

Somewhere in Sweden, as I type this, several funny-talking, blond 20-somethings are (hopefully) drinking and celebrating. They have, over the course of 9 days, soundly and authoritatively whipped a conglomeration of local prosecution lawyers and employees of an industry so foul that the people who call themselves Pirates are the clear favorite.

That's a dangling part of speech up there -- won't bore you with which one -- but I do want to clarify I in no way blame the Swedish government. Throughout the first decade of the 2000's our country's legal system was gorged with record-industry psychos attempting to extract cash from confused grandmothers. Every country has their breaking point. Sweden's is the descent of the entire world's recording industry. Ours happened to be the ill-informed and probably bribe-driven statements of the members of Metallica. We all have our standards.

Day after day, the really-not-very-old men of The Pirate Bay do the work of modern Robin Hoods. The Bay, if you've been, really is a very simple community (at least on the surface) of filesharers. These people, too cheap to buy the $5 DVD from the bin at Wal-Mart, will spend the time and effort to help anyone they come across achieve their goal, and that's become more valuable on the internet than money. Thus, despite a legal minefield and an almost entirely infiltration-prone technology, people flock to The Pirate Bay for the latest and greatest flying through the Tubes.

As the IFPI, the RIAA and Sweden itself battle, we look to the outcome to present the future of the internet: Will this small, admittedly unfamiliar country set the standard for a free and open 'net? Or are we going back to the AOL days of pay-by-the-hour preselected "Info" crap?

More on this with further trial news in Part 2.

Thursday, February 26, 2009

Remember the kid with the Walkman?


I remember waking up Christmas morning when I was, I think, 7 years old, and under the Christmas tree was an enormous box, with my name on it. What could Santa possible think to get me that would go in such a big box?

So began the big box with the smaller box inside, with the smaller box inside, with the smaller box inside (we weren't too concerned with global warming at this point in my parents' house.) Eight boxes later, was a little package that fit, approximately, in my hand. With great reverence, I opened my first Walkman, and screamed loud enough to shatter crystal (or so my mother swears.)

I took that Walkman everywhere I could, even places it wasn't allowed (like school.) I listened to Pat Benatar and The Beach Boys and Jimmy Buffet, and anything else my parents bought for me, because at 7, I had pretty poor taste in music ("Oh mom, can't I please have the New Kids on the Block tape?!?" Thank God for my mother's better judgment.)

I remember going with my parents to Radio Shack to get new headphones when I broke the ones that came standard with my Walkman. I insisted on Radio Shack, because of the commercial with the little kid who buys his Walkman in Radio Shack, then sees the ad for another store with the same Walkman, only cheaper. And the clerk in the store looks at the little boy with this absolutely grim face, then turns to the register, pulls out some money, and hands it to the kid, with a smile. And the kid says, “cool!” and walks out.




Because of this commercial, I still make most of my electronic purchases at Radio Shack (with the great exception of computers, because they’re really not a computer retailer, and they don’t really claim to be.) I may be the only person I know who still goes to Radio Shack rather than, say, the Sprint store.

I have great issues with my phone company’s stores. Now, I love Sprint. I wouldn’t dream of leaving them for Verizon, because, whenever I have ANY issues with my billing, regardless of whose at fault (and let’s be honest, it’s usually my bad) they always take the charges off my account. I have a retardedly high spending limit with Sprint, because I’ve been with them since I got my first cell phone (years after everyone else, because I am horrendously technology resistant.)

While I love Sprint, I loathe the Sprint store. Their customer service has never been anything more than mediocre, and their sales staff is pretentious as Hell. If the particular phone I want isn’t in stock, they’ll tell me to order it online. If the air card I need that day isn’t there, they’ll say the same. Not so with my friends at Radio Shack.

I go to Radio Shack because, whatever I want, if it’s not in the store, they find it for me. The guys at the store on Route 40 won’t hesitate to drive to Ellicott City, Reisterstown, even Owings Mills, just to get me a charger for my cell phone.

And what saddens me is that no one appreciates the guys at Radio Shack. It’s that dinky little electronics store that was useful in the 90’s, but that has since outlived its efficacy. And it’s crap.

So to Greg, Steve, Leon, Diondre, and all my friends at the Radio Shack on Route 40, this Bud’s for you!

EDIT:

So it took all of three seconds on ye olde innernets to find out that the commercial I was referencing was not for Radio Shack at all.

It's a Circuit City commercial.

Guess that price match policy really worked in their favor.

Except not.

Fail.

Wednesday, February 25, 2009

Trip to DC?

Apparently this thing is now on display in the National Gallery of Art in DC.  I want to go and watch it for hours.  Anyone want to go with me?

It's a forty thousand LED tunnel, hooked up to some computer-based randomness, that just flashes the lights in different random configurations.  The artist claims that no pattern will be visible twice.

Here's a video, just to further hook you:




Villareal "Multiverse" National Gallery of Art, Washington DC from Walter Patrick Smith on Vimeo.

It's only like an hour long drive, minus the whole parking issue.  So who's with me?

Skimming Craigslist

W4M:

"Let's do some living after we die.  -24-"  -- Probable serial killer/goth chick.  Up to you which is worse.

"FireFighter Chick Seeking Flame -23-" -- She can kick your ass (unless you can basket-carry an NFL linebacker.)

"Brains and Beauty Looking 4 u -23-"  -- Clearly she's lying about the brains.  I'm guessing she's not exactly a 10.

"Everything happens for a reason! -24-" -- Explain the Holocaust.  And D.L. Hughley's show on CNN.


M4W:

"I want a kind loving woman who is a bit of a freak. -25-"  -- Has very desperate mother issues.

"I hate animals and I'm not a fan of Jesus either. -24-"  -- Would probably pair best with goth girl/Lizzy Borden up top, if it weren't for her 16 cats.

"I'm looking for someone totally unique. -25-"  -- Has seen 2 girls 1 cup.  Three times.

"Babies r cool because they're conscious but not self conscious "  -- "Dude.  I am totally fucked up.  Let's post on Craigslist."

"Female college student wanted -35-"  Too classy for a prostitute, waaaay too ugly to get laid.


T4MW:

"Anyone want to play tonight? -31-"  -- ...NO.

Side Post/Blog Custody

It appears we'll have slightly more custody of the blog this evening to pass around, since Gus Shakey is HAVING A CHILD as I type this. (Generation AWESOME officially begins!)

Interesting ratings pull from last night: both Chuck (6.5 million viewers) and Heroes (6.9 million) were last in their timeslots in competition with the major networks. This appears to echo a trend across the board for virtually every TV program, except possibly American Idol -- although the high turnover in that TV audience has to screw with the ratings. On an average Idol night, 25 million might tune in, but how many of them are being lost before the first half hour -- and how many tune in after that point? (And how many are functionally mentally disabled?)

My point is that people seem to be ignoring scheduled TV more and more this year. Perhaps the change in the country's climate -- from "Too safe to yell, too angry to stay quiet" to "Too poor to shut up, too hopeful to get angry" -- has put people's perspectives in order. Who gives a shit about LOST when you have to get up for a crappy second job at 4:30 in the morning?

Realistically, though, the sheer amount of Piracy when it comes to TV probably makes Malasia look like a Disney World attraction.

The sad irony of piracy is that it encourages the destruction of the material which it seeks to loot. Without it we might not have amazing shows still available to us -- Arrested Development, Battlestar, Family Guy; all were kept in tupperware Internet containers while the owners piss-fought over whether or not these shows were worth the trouble. In the end, however, some were worthy and some weren't; piracy statistics unfortunately deflate studio executive erections like Bird Shot at the Macy's parade. Loving a show isn't enough -- we must pay for our time with it in commercials.
Maybe they're using the wrong Chuck.


Oh well. Support Chuck and Heroes by hitting them up on Hulu. In fact, watch everything on Hulu. We're hitting the Iron/Bronze age of the internet, and if we don't support the shit that works, they'll be charging us for Youtube and billing us for "Chatting minutes." And when the internet reverts back to the old Prodigy and Compuserve days, I'm done -- bow and arrow, loincloth, and a treehouse for me. I can do without Wifi.

Tuesday, February 24, 2009

Workin' 9 to 5

It's been said that Disney and Hollywood have given women (and some kindhearted and romantical men) and unrealistic standard of love and happiness. Which I wholeheartedly agree with, but that's been covered. I need to cover a much worse crime facing all ages and both sexes...

Hollywood gives us an unrealistic standard of what jobs and careers are suppose to be like.


I was honestly told this is what it's like in the career
field of graphic design... you vomit your own money

Think about it. Any number of movies in our lifetime have been about the coolest ways to make money whether it's getting into the cool place to work, suddenly finding yourself in need of money and conning your way in, or having that job and everyone looking up to you more than the asshole boss. No matter which way you cut it, movie jobs rule. Real world jobs... suck ass. Of course, the whole idea behind a great movie/book/blog is that it suppose to show you one great moment in the life of a person, so I can understand that perhaps these jobs don't really rule, they just rule rule for 2 hours... But I can also tell the difference between real life and fantasy... now. But for years, I couldn't and I'm still fighting my way back to reality for 8 hours a day, 5 days a week.

In middle school, there was a movie that made me want to get a job so much, I couldn't stand the thought of wasting anymore time now working. The people were cool, the manager was a total bad ass, the customers were in and out without any problems, you could steal the entire night's deposit to go blow on gambling (with the best intentions), when a celebrity comes in you can trash him, chase down a shoplifter, and at the end of the day... dance on the roof after a killer party. I'm speaking, of course, about Empire Records.


It's a good thing Liv Tyler is holding them back
'cause they'll fuck you up with their early-90s
indifference to society and the "Man"

That record store was awesome! You committed a federal offense and ruined a completely perfect plan to buyout the store from corporate takeover? You get to sit on a couch all day! You shoplift from the store, carted off by the police and return later to commit a federal offense? (...I'm seeing a trend now) You get a job! You're totally in love with some girl, and you're a talented artist who's heading off to college? Even though she threw herself at a total douche, everything turns out fine!!! Why wouldn't you want to work there? Why can't every job be like that!?!

Because pesky rules and laws and a little thing called "responsibility" get the way. That and prostitution is illegal.

I worked at a toy store on and off for 9 years and it was honestly the closest thing I had to Empire Records (the store. The closest thing I had to the movie for a long time was the soundtrack... which makes me feel dirty to admit) as a job. We made that place awesome. We did what we had to do (not that much) and then did nothing (well). However none of that stuff above rarely worked out. We had a guy steal money for gambling (not with best intentions) and he did get to sit on a couch all day... He got fired. And that kinda screwed over the other people in the store. Most shoplifters got away... but we didn't care. And at the end of the day, we just left because parties at the store would have sucked hard. My high school and college job was probably better than most. Cashier at Walmart or flippin' burgers at MickeyD's are not even remotely close to Empire Records.

But now, I have a real job... a career... So now Hollywood won't lie to me about that, right!?! I can do this career for now, then the big boss discovers me and I become the head huncho, right? Or I win the lottery? Or I live happily ever after? Or, best of all, like Office Space... I just get to up and leave one day and all is well.


"THANK YOU SIR!! I REALLY APPRECIATE THIS
OPPORTUNITY!! I WILL NOT LET YOU DOWN!!!"

Office Space. What a movie. You hate your career, something snaps in your brain and you just stop caring about all the shit they try to push on you. That movie is what a career is like. The annoying coworkers, the endless days, the same thing over and over and over and over (and over even!) and finally, you make one little mistake, you hear about it endlessly until someone else screws up. TPS report covers are a placeholder for just about anything in any job. The moment the movie takes a turn for the worse is when he just comes in, does whatever he wants, then stops coming, then get promoted. Oh, and that whole Superman 3 idea... Stupid Superman 3. You wouldn't get promoted, you'd get fired. And then no pretty girlfriend and a smile on your face... There would be no unemployment check and a lot of drinking. But the construction ending would probably be true too.

Here's the thing people: Work sucks. If work was fun, eventually fun gets old. Even professional athletes get tired of playing fun games day after day. We just need to get through the work/career age and survive so we can get back to the real fun that we had in our youth: Pooping our pants and making someone else clean it up.

The whole purpose of this article was to use the sentence "Pooping our pants and making someone else clean it up."

Stuff About Yesterday: February 23rd, 2009

Good Morning, Afternoon, or in Australia, Saturday! Miss what was going on yesterday? Probably. (You really need to stop drinking, man. We're worried about you.) Here's the necessary minutia that'll keep you trendy at the Starbucks counter. You tool.

-- News broke yesterday that Socks the Cat, former Clinton household pet, was
put to sleep on Friday. No word on if there will be a tiny, quadraped-only processional to the Capital building. I'm not sure if they make an American Flag small enough to be folded over the top of a shoebox.

"No, Chelsea! He went to a farm, where he can run and play. Just like Vince Foster."

-- The Dow has dropped below 7,200. Continue monitoring the space above your head. In case of a further drop in the DJIA, a small emergency respiration device will drop from the ceiling. BE SURE to fit your mask properly before assisting any politicians, Wall Street investment bankers, or talk radio hosts in adjusting theirs. In fact, don't help them. And then kneecap them with a tire iron.

-- The Navy of Norway has announced that they will attempt to find the plane of lost explorer Roald Amundsen using a state-of-the-art unmanned submarine. Presumably the sonar will be seeking out the shape of his fucking majestic moustache.

-- If I could pick one awesome ass place to work, it would be McMurdo Station at the South Pole. This is the kind of place the phrase "stir crazy" was invented to describe, as evidenced by the recent firing of an employee for his slightly unprofessional Jell-O Wrestling Party. I guess when you live in the dark for six months with the same two hundred people, all bets are off. And pants.

-- I've said it all along: Facebook is eating the brains of our children. (Join our facebook group, on the sidebar to the right!)

-- A previously unreleased version of The Beatles' 'Revolution 1' has been found and trickled its way online. It appears to A) Bridge the gap between the original version and the crazy-assed 'Revolution 9,' and B) Prove that you could probably have crushed up John Lennon, snorted him, and stayed high until the day you were dead.

-- The movie industry lawyer attempting to prosecute The Pirate Bay decided to pull a Hook-and-Parrot herself, asking her friend and Swedish author to implore other authors for their help against copyright infringement -- using Facebook. Unfortunately, that author turned out to be a pretty avid pirate. For those of you interested in digital copyright issues, the Pirate Bay trial has been gold. If they had any sense, the Pirates would film the prosecution, speed it up, and add the Benny Hill music. Youtube Gyllene, guys.

-- Netflix will be offering a straight-to-your-computer streaming only plan by 2010. By 2012, they'll be able to deliver movies STRAIGHT INTO YOUR VEINS.

-- Adam Carolla has started his own Podcast, evidently upset about being left out of 2007. I respect comedy, and I respect broadcast, so if you can listen to Adam Carolla for more than ten seconds without shoving sharpened pencils into your ears, support the man.

-- Former Postmaster General John E. Potter is being investigated by Congress. Why, you ask? Possibly the $800,000 compensation package last year. Turns out somebody noticed the day he wore that gold-plated suit to work.


Stopped by neither rain, nor snow, nor mouthy-ass bee-yatch.

That's all for this edition, folks! Tune in next time. I'll probably be even more delirious on even more cough syrup!

Monday, February 23, 2009

It makes me want to tear my eyes out...and I think I might like it...

It figures it's by Louis XIV, because all things French a) surrender and b) are lame. However, I have an addiction to this song.

Unfortunately, I can't find the studio version on Youtube (read: I'm too lazy to keep looking) so here's a live version, not so bad, all things considered:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oGBrxhmH1os

And here's my dilemma...(that word never looks like it's spelled correctly)

I LOVE this song, but at the same time, I HATE THIS SONG.

It's one of those catchy little beats that sticks in your head and loops itself over and over again like a Mobius strip. And while I enjoy the music (and by enjoy I mean it stays with me until I want to pummel some unsuspecting unfortunate stranger to said beat) the lyrics get on my nerves. All these types of women that this guy evidently wants to "shake up," and I could shake the shit out of him for singing such absolute blather.

The part of this song that strangely thrills me is when this girl in this pleading voice sings "wind me up and make me crawl to you, tie me up and make me call for you."

In some strange, borderline S&M way, that's just hawt.

And because of that titillating piece of lyricism, I love that song.

BUT I HATE IT.

Damn it.

Side Post: Addendum to C.C.'s CNN post...

I'd love to know how they come up with these statistics, because in my humble (and broke-ass) opinion, 100% of the nation is scared shitless. I have yet to meet a single person on the street, in Walmart (where just about everyone is now forced to shop), or at the gas station who doesn't have the look of a shell-shock victim.

Speaking of Walmart...

I was in Walmart over the weekend (cringe) picking up catfood. Now, I try to plan my Walmart excursions as late in the evening as possible (and since I go to the 24 hour Walmart in the ghetto, it's usually 1 in the morning when the cat won't stop effing crying for food, even though he has half a bowl left, what can I say, my cat starts to panic if there isn't 10 lbs in reserve.) So I get to said ghettomart, and it's a mob scene. Even during the holiday rush, when I had to go get catfood (I shop online for gifts because I hate crowds) Walmart wasn't this crowded (most likely because this holiday season was one of the lowest grossing seasons in history.) And just like during regular business hours, there were only 4 out of 38 registers open for check out. What pisses me off is that there were at least 15 (yes, I counted!) associates wandering through the aisles, pretending to be restocking shelves, and instead talking about Rihanna's beat down or playing Nerf football.

Seriously, Nerf football back in the toy section, it was hilarious to watch. One of the associates, we'll call him Brad, would make a great inside linebacker should B-more lose Ray Lewis in negotiation, and it certainly looks like we will.

Now, keep in mind, in these troubled times, stocks are plummeting faster than Paris Hilton's panties, but Walmart is actually up this month. The stock price for my bank is less than $3/share, but Walmart is holding strong right around $50.

AND THEY STILL ONLY OPEN FOUR REGISTERS!

If you're the major retail store that 90% of country is frequenting because they can no longer afford pricier options, open some damn registers to accomodate the traffic. Standing in the 10 items or less line for an HOUR simply prompts me to carry a paintball gun, Denny Crane style, and open fire to release my tension.

Come to think of it...

Thanks for the heads up, CNN

CNN.com is reporting that 73% of the nation is afraid of how badly things are going in this country. This apparently is coming straight from their most in-touch crack reporters, who have been stuck in a hotel room in 2003 for the last several years.

Do we really need them to tell us we're scared? And angry? I looked in the mirror earlier and nearly shat myself. Just the look on my face from having to wake up in the morning is terrifying, and that's only because I'd had the news turned on.

If CNN were a relative, it would be that Aunt who does nothing but collects ceramic piano ornaments and lets the family know which obscure cousin died most recently. I don't need to hear that we're all scared and sad and poor, CNN; I can just go to Wal-Mart.

Just try not loving this

If you don't think this video is awesome, I don't think you have a soul.


Where the Hell is Matt? (2008) from Matthew Harding on Vimeo.


Incidentally, I dance just about as well.

Yes, it was sponsored by Stride gum, but if I'm allowed to go all over the world to look like a moron on somebody else's dime, I don't care who sponsors me. (With notable exceptions -- I'm looking at you, Cyber-Hitler from Wolfenstein 3D.)

Sunday, February 22, 2009

The Oscars: Confusing the anger center of your brain for 81 years

I am not a fan of the Oscars.

I respect what it is to make movies. I adore it. It's arousing to me in ways that aren't entirely kosher, so to speak, but I recognize one thing about it: Movies are, by and large, horseshit.

I'm watching the "Best Song" Oscar being pre-empted by an overly dramatic musical presentation; someone, somewhere, has changed the channel because they printed that envelope, and they don't care. I do like the song from Wall-E, but Slumdog has two out of the three nominations here. Seems pretty wrapped up to me.

In fact the whole thing seems wrapped up: The inevitability of the winner's column betrays the controversy that seems to have jammed itself into a largely irrelevant show. Will Heath win the Oscar? Of course he f*cking did.

Dear God. The entire "Best Song" performance was one long mash-up of the three nominated songs. This is promotional gold. It's probably giving Don King a hard-on.

But here's the deal: That's not to say I'm not proud of the dude who won (Incidentally, that would be Allah Rakha Rahman, the John Williams of Bollywood). Clearly he is a simple man who has worked very hard to get where he is. He's probably some sort of superhero in India now, and I expect him to actually jump in front of the Bollywood camera soon. Which is why Bollywood still sucks. Seriously, though, his song was pretty good.

The thing this man, and really every one of the winners, has succeeded in doing is beating out pretension itself. Clawing through and climbing over every last pile of crap keeping you from that stage has to be exhausting, almost a torturous obstacle course. It's like punishing yourself for choosing a job most people consider to be make-believe. The individual, then, is the most real moment of the entire show -- every other second is just self-important masturbation, but for the time that the winners are onstage, the point of the whole thing shines through.

As someone who creates -- Acts, writes, directs, films, edits, records, etcetera -- you are clearly looking for one thing: Recognition. With a creative tilt the impulse is to share (hence this blog), but often it's a difficult road to get from idea to success. More often than not, the road ends, and failure sets in. And nine times out of ten, nobody notices either way. But when you've succeeded, and you believe in your work, and then a thousand people you think are more talented than you are congratulate you on being so awesome...

What a day at the office, right?

So yes, it's all crap. I'm not a fan of the Oscars, mostly because I'm not there. But we all do something we feel is important. Most of us do it privately. Most of us work hard in silence, or hope in secret. Recognition comes from a population much smaller than the Oscar audience, but the feeling is the same: Job Well Done. Even if the only people who care are the ones doing the same job.

Really, we could all use an awards show.

Side Post: Generation AWESOME

Gus Shakey is expecting his son to come on out any time now, and so I thought (before the big event) I might throw this hat in the ring:

This little badass is going to be Member #1 of Generation AWESOME. (Capitalized.)

No more with this "Let's use a letter" crap. And since the current one is somewhere around Z-ish -- if they could stop texting and choose a damn designation -- they're going to start using numbers soon, or god forbid, the Greek Alphabet. (Do you really want you child to be in Generation Beta?)

We will have to make them tiny Generation AWESOME T-shirts, too.

More on this later.

The Whys and Hows of Psych: Love the Pineapple.

Pop culture indulgences every thirty seconds: Check. As many 80's and 90's movie references as can be jammed into 44 minutes: Check. Countless iconic television and movie actors: Check.

So why, exactly, aren't you watching Psych?

Okay, yes, the show gets consistently high ratings -- During its original 2006 premiere and later, during the USA Network's idea of a season in 2008 (6 episodes, then more followed later in the year), the show had an average of about 6.1 million viewers. And all this from a Friday show -- Psych, like Monk before, has had no trouble crafting its brand as a staple on the basic cable network.

Consistently, though, when attempting to find someone -- anyone -- who has watched this show, I come up completely alone. James Roday and Dule Hill -- genius actor/writers in their own right -- steal the entire thing from moment one to moment end. I won't bore you with the details, but here's the overview:

Hyper-observational, son-of-a-supercop Shawn Spencer uses his trained powers of observation to solve crimes. To do so and still continue to slack off as much as humanly possible, he tells everyone he's psychic. And it works.

Three seasons in, the show has featured such former heavy hitters as Corbin Bernsen, Justine Bateman, Rachel Leigh Cook, Don S. Davis (god rest his fat, bald b-rated TV soul), George Takei, The amazing Richard Kind, Tim Curry, Gina fucking Gershon, Lou Diamond Phillips -- Yes,Stand and Deliver Lou Diamond Phillips, Kevin Sorbo, and most recently, Cybill Shepherd and Ally Sheedy. That's leaving out a few.

That list reads like a who's-who of who-should-be-retired-by-now. And here's what's interesting: I think most of them are retired. Bernsen, playing Shawn's father and original mentor, plays onscreen like the crew won't get off of his damn lawn. Shepherd makes her occasional appearance as Shawn's semi-estranged mother. Even she plays it like she has something better to do with every moment she's on screen, but a fierce connection to Roday's character tells you they picked the right one for the job.

Dule Hill, Shawn's best friend and (more often than not) abuse lackey, takes to a role like a Weeble -- he just can't be knocked down. Hill's improvisational skills, along with Roday's and half of the rest of the cast, are off the charts. I get the sense each episode is about two pages long, reviewed the night before shooting, and mostly forgotten by the time the cameras are rolling.

And the show is better for it -- Roday and the rest of the writing crew is a virtual Pop-Crap Library of Alexandria, calling up references so obscure you'd probably need a Bachelor's degree in 20th century entertainment just to understand them all. The show itself, from the Creator-and-head-writer-written theme song to the extreme hijinks in post-show outtakes, knows exactly what it is. This thing is made by Pop culture whores, for Pop culture whores, andabout Pop culture whores.

Our generation is practically aching for a show that will speak to us like this one can, and yet nobody my age seems to even know what it is. I love it. Every Friday I wait for the show, and I'm consistently surprised with how well written it is. The few times the show actually tries to serious the whole experience up, Roday and Hill are there to remind us that the point is levity. Spencer the character, of course, can operate in no other way; the show, too, has no option but to just take it easy.

Urban Man Children: Just like us.

NOW that I've rambled on for about a billion hours on why this show is genius, get your ass over to Hulu and watch it. There are five or six episodes up, none of which require any sort of back story, other than this: The main character is any one of us between the ages of twenty-two and thirty, provided you have at least the cast of The Breakfast Club memorized. The rest is moot. By the time the show is over, you'll be hooked.


It should be legal to carry napalm...

Let me preface by saying I love cover bands. Some of my best friends do covers, and they tend to do them rather well. They write their own material, and it's pretty good, but until the get discovered (every local band's dream) they'll gladly, sometimes shamelessly, cover popular songs. And I'm ok with this.

HOWEVER...

Elementary school art teachers should NOT, I repeat, NOT cover the Beatles.

Let me explain.

First and foremost, I think there is no greater sacrilege than covering the Beatles. The fab four are some of the most influential musicians of all time, and their songs, in my opinion, are sacred. Some of the best cover bands I know won't touch the Beatles, or the Stones for that matter, because of their respect for great bands. So imagine my complete disgust, my utter disdain, my abject HORROR when I was in a local pub tonight, just trying to get my drink on, and these two women (I swear to GOD, the blond was my art teacher in high school!!!) start playing. Now, they're covering music I generally deem appropriate for female cover bands: Pat Benetar, Lisa Loeb, and other vagina-saturated music. Then, out of no where, they break into the Beatles "I am the Walrus," the B-side hit from "Hello, Goodbye."

I almost fell off my chair in my haste to flee the building, lest I throw my still-full glass at the stage.

Now, I'm not sexist; I think women can totally rock traditionally men's songs. My best friend does a wicked Frank Sinatra, and her rendition of Metallica's cover of "Whiskey in the Jar" will rock your socks off. Seriously, it's frightening, but she's damn scary-good at pretending to be James Hetfield.

But these women, these UNTALENTED WOMEN, were not just bastardizing Eddie Vedder (which I can allow, because I have very little respect and admiration for Pearl Jam) or Dave Matthew's Band (which EVERYONE covers) but they did "Walrus," they did Men at Work's classic "Down Under," and I was honestly tempted to set fires.

SET FIRES!!!

There is no respect for good music anymore. Maybe I should start a cover band, and sing only the songs that SHOULD be covered, instead of the one's that demand the kind of respect that keeps people from covering them poorly.

Or maybe I'll invest in homemade napalm instead.

Either way...