This week's Pope word of wisdom was actually another warning against rampant materialism which he says "suffocates the spirit of Christmas."
Here here, says this Jew, but obviously Mr. Funny-Ring hasn't been to a Costco.
I'm here on the Western side of Michigan visiting my brother and family and soaking in the bitter cold sun of the midwest. Yesterday we went to the grand opening of a brand spanking new Costco and pilled up the cart with a generous supply of food for the coming winter days. Oh, and I got a book and a pair of new Doc Martins. Yes, I said Doc Martins?! At Costco?!! $35!
Dr. Martin has jumped the shark.
Materialism in bulk
Bam Thwok!
Just got back from the concert 13 years in the waiting - Pixies live at Hammerstein Ballroom. In a word, wow! Amazing set, Kim and Charles still have their voices, and they played "U Mass" in a moment of true magic. Aside from a sudden mosh pit that developed about two seconds into "Isla de Encanta" at which point Craig went white as a ghost and stated "I'm freakin out," it was a relatively peaceful show and everyone was a fan. You could feel the love big time.
Okay, now here's the only sucky part, and I do mean SUCKY. There's this new band that opened for them called "le tigre." OMG do they blow major monkey chunks o' crap. They are to New Wave as Blink 182 is to Punk. Two girls and a guy (I think it was a guy, not sure) screaming pseudo-political lyrics over preprogrammed drum-machine heavy tracks. To top it all off they do this weird ass powerpoint presentation that incorporates that 80s "retro" look that frankly I am getting FUCKING SICK OF (i.e. "Napoleon Dynamite," every Urban Outfitters store you walk into). Not that it makes me feel old, cause it does that by default, but the whole 80s are cool again shit is really pathetic on this new generation embracing it. As we used to say, gag me with a spoon. Anyway, I liked the band better the first time when it was called the B-52s.
Death to Le Tigre!
Kitten Confidential!
Okay, let me take this cat blog opportunity to defend the recent allegations against me in the recent tabloids.
I'm a male cat, and balls or no balls, we all need a little pussy every once and a while. I assure you this was all in good clean cuddle innocence, as Heather and I were simply spooning for warmth in Todd's apartment.
I realize the paw around the neck move here looks a little suspicious, but I should like to point out that it never went beyond a mutual tongue bath.
Fuck, it was so much easier when Clinton was in the White House.
Meow.
You'll polka your eye out!
Well, the moment is finally here. Of course I'm talking about Grammy's most exciting category (known to Grammites as Category 73): Best Polka Album (Vocal or Instrumental)
And the nominees this year are -
Highways & Dancehalls
Eddie Blazonczyk's Versatones
Let's Kiss: 25th Anniversary Album
Brave Combo
Pangora's Box
John Góra & Górale
Come On Over
Henny & The Versa J's
Polkas United
Walter Ostanek & Gaylord Klancnik
Needless to say I think I need to brush up on the pop music scene as I knew who Eddie Blazonczyk was, and not Kanye West.
Give up the ghost...
Grilled cheese virgin Mary move over, some lady is selling her father's ghost on EBay.
Not for nothing, but if I were her dad's ghost, I'd go poltergeist on my daughter faster than you can say "go to the light."
Never underestimating the Barnum within us all, EBay has now been flooded with similar auctions of people's ghosts for a set price, plus shipping and handling.
Closer to fine...
Don't miss one of the year's best films, opening in theaters today - CLOSER. A shout out to Ann Gray, Production Supervisor extraordinaire!
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