BP = beyond phucked

Okay, lemme get this straight, according to engineers for British Petroleum, over 798,000 gallons are spweing into the ocean every day, and have done so every day since April 20.  That means over 30,324,000 gallons of oil have been dumped into the ocean since this whole tragedy began.

Yes, that's right...30 million gallons of spewing oil and neither BP or the American government has yet to come up with a plan to stop it.  Oh sure, they're trying...let's see, one of the plans trotted out by this oil conglomerate that has made billions and billions in profits each quarter was to shoot old tired and golf balls down the hole in hopes of stopping the leak.

Wow, did anybody see that one coming?  Can't believe that didn't work.

Considering that oil companies have been sucking oil out of the center of the earth for DECADES, isn't it a little alarming to discover that there has never been a plan in place to stop such a leak if one of those rigs were to explode, or sink, or topple over in a violent sea storm?

That such a plan does not exist, and seems to have never existed, stands as a shining reminder of the complete blind ambition and cavalier, devil-may-care attitude of these oil companies.  In the past, such occasional spills have been minor enough that these companies have been all too happy to merely pay the fines levied against them rather than do the right thing.

Can't say as I blame them.  What's a $40 million dollar fine to a company that makes BILLIONS in profits each quarter?  Pfft, just pay the fine, and go right back to business as usual.

This time, though, it isn't just a few birds and fish that suffer the consequences of one oil company's complete disregard for everything but their own greed, it is the entire Gulf of Mexico, the shoreline of the southeast continental United States, and, yes, the entire country.

We Americans, though, don't seem to care as much as we should.  Sure, we've all clicked on the link to the real-time footage of oil spewing one mile below the surface of the ocean and expressed shock and dismay to our co-workers before then doing a search for something equally important, such as the American Idol finalists, Bret Michaels, or Gary Coleman.  Seems we Americans don't truly give a damn about anything until it shows up on our doorstep covered in gloppy oil residue.

Hell, some even continue to buy gas from the local BP gas station.

"Hey, it's the cheapest gas in my neighborhood."

"I was almost out of gas and didn't want to drive another ten blocks to the next station."

"What oil leak?"

I'm sorry, none of that flies, America.

We have literally been attacked.  Granted, it was an attack of sheer negligence, but it was an attack none the less.

Where's your outrage?  What will it take for this to matter to you enough to take a stand?

And we wonder how these companies just keep getting richer and richer.  We Americans, much like the politicians we have elected with zero thought as to what such representatives will do on our behalf, have buckled time and time again when the oil companies tell us how things are going to be.  A few years ago, when they gauged us by raising gas prices to $4 a gallon because their own decision to take a few refineries offline had led to a "shortage", we buckled.  We did, however, reserve the right to grumble all the while.

It seems that as long as we are able to voice a little outrage, much like our elected officials did to a table of bank CEO's before writing them a check for $700 billion, these companies can then go right back to printing money.

Fuck American Idol, Celebrity Apprentice, or any bullshit waste of time that you use to block out the real world so that you don't have to think about anything unpleasant.  This is one of the largest catastrophes to ever occur on this planet.  You no longer need a satellite to see this oil spill from space.  At present, it stretches over 22 square miles.  That means that over 484 miles of ocean is blotted out by a dark, oppressive ooze of oil.  Yeah, you're right...the ocean is huge.  What's a measly 484 miles?

This time next month, though, it'll be ten times that amount as the currents and oceanic weather conditions take the oil further in every direction, including further along the coastline of the United States.

For those who DO care, and who DO get sick to their stomach when they see that constant gush of oil being thrust into the ocean, we at He's A Whore have created a shirt that we hope you'll not only buy, but wear proudly.  Additionally, $5 from the sale of each t-shirt will go to the Greater New Orleans Foundation's Gulf Coast Oil Spill Fund.

BUY A SHIRT!

Spinal Tap, Hipster Style!

Is the hipster world fast becoming a sad, unintentional parody of itself, just aching to be made fun of by those who mere months ago may have very been hipsters? 

I mean, to truly be a hipster, one must pass derisive judgment upon those hipsters who may not be as familiar with Icelandic folk pop or traditional Celtic noise funk, right?  Will hipsters find it funny?  Will non-hipsters?

I've no clue...but thought this was amusing enough to mention.

Nothing Is Cool

Dwight Twilley "Green Blimp" On The Horizon!

To think that only a few months ago, Dwight Twilley was merely a musical legend I had long admired from afar. Having many of his records, but never seeing him perform, he was almost mythical in my mind. Did he really exist?

And then this past March, I took a wild shot in the dark and sent Dwight a Facebook message offering to design a limited-edition Dwight Twilley t-shirt to commemorate his SXSW appearance. Within minutes, I had heard back from Dwight and his wife Jan and the project was a GO!

How often does that happen? Usually, even in the best of circumstances, there are egos and agendas that need to be carefully navigated, like a proverbial mine field just looking for any good reason to blow a leg off.

Ah, but I did not know the other two mine fields that lied in wait, having no direct connection to Twilley. First, the untimely death of Alex Chilton occurred just days before the show. As someone who had already sunk the necessary money into this project, my worst fear was that the entire show would be called off. Stranger things have happened, right? I simply hoped that, because it was a festival so long in the planning, everything would proceed as planned. It just had to, for my sake and sanity.

Secondly, my printer goofed and delivered shirts printed incorrectly the day before the show. That's right, the DAY before the SHOW. By the time I had alerted him to this fact, the only option left was for me to haul ass to Houston to pick up replacement t-shirts, drive back to Austin, and then watch-dog the screen printer to make sure he did the shirts correctly this time.

At 2:30AM, I finally arrived home with t-shirts in-hand. I arrived home to discover that not only was the show going on, but that the surviving members of the current Big Star line-up would be performing a tribute to Alex Chilton that night.

Finally getting to see Twilley perform that night was an awesome experience. I recommend it for anyone who has yet to do so, as he is a goddamn national treasure.  Additionally, he pulled out all the stops, bringing the amazing guitar monster Bill Pitcock IV with him, as well as the soaring vocal songstress Susan Cowsill.  In other words, Twilley brought his A-GAME to this gig, yo, and the crowd dug every harmonious second of it.

He's also one of the nicest guys you'll ever meet. Just ask any of the dozens of fans who converged on the merchandise table after the show. Dwight answered every question, signed every souvenir, and shook every hand until it was just he and I standing there with nothing but an empty table where a stack of Dwight Twilley SXSW t-shirts had once been.

I had literally bet the rent check on the shirts being a big hit and, at the same time, was able to put some money in the pocket of the Twilley camp. They had, after all, bet the proverbial farm themselves that the SXSW show would be just the thing to kick-start a new chapter in the Dwight Twilley story.

This is not the end, by any means. Sure, they might be putting the finishing touches on a Twilley documentary (due later this year), which explains why there were so many cameras at the SXSW gig, but Dwight Twilley is proceeding like a man with no past, but a desire to start one right now.

His upcoming album, Green Blimp, is destined to become the album that brings Dwight Twilley back to the national consciousness, boasting songs that reveal the heart of both a poet and a rocker. Here's the thing, though...Dwight Twilley is an indie artist. There is no major label picking up the tab, no PR machine operating behind-the-scenes, and no group of highly-paid handlers overseeing every detail.

Nope, Dwight Twilley, legend that he is, is financing every aspect of this new album on his own. He and wife Jan, in fact, are the ones overseeing every detail themselves. When this album shows up on your doorstep, or at the local record store, it will only be after Dwight and Jan put every last dime they have into this record to make it the sort of album the fans deserve.

They're not finished yet, although this is the home stretch. By buying a t-shirt, you're essentially tossing a few bucks in the Dwight Twilley tip jar and getting a snazzy Dwight Twilley "Green Blimp" t-shirt that is actually much more than that...it's a freakin' billboard to be worn proudly by every mother-loving Twilley fan who reads this.  Wear it proudly!

And when you're holding your copy of Green Blimp in your hands as each new Twilley song re-decorates the room in a thunderous haze of post-psychedelic pop perfection, you'll know that you had a hand in making this album that much better.

Huey Lewis once sang, "The heart of rock and roll is still beating / And from what I've seen I believe 'em." When I hear the new tunes and see the swagger in Dwight's step when he hits the stage, I too believe 'em.

Do you?

BUY A TWILLEY SHIRT!

Fuck Yeah: Greg Kihn "The Break-Up Song"

Never has there been an artist who, on the basis of one great song, made me rush out and by their album in hopes that there was something - ANYTHING - else on the album even half as fucking cool as "The Break-Up Song".  Of course, I spun the heck out of my copy of Rock Kihn Roll, but, alas, never found anything up to the standards of that one amazing rock & roll shot in the dark.

Sure, he went on to score an even bigger hit with "Jeopardy", but that song has always annoyed the hell out of me, but that's not what this is about.

The first time I heard "The Break-Up Song", I was in a video arcade pumping quarters into the Donkey Kong machine trying to regain the high score after seeing that some other kid in the neighborhood had finally beaten my score.

As I stood there, joystick in hand, I heard the most amazing tune drifting in from the main room of the pizza joint where the arcade was located.  I literally left the machine unmanned, knowing full well that I was committing suicide, so that I could find out what song was playing.  I then did the unspeakable...much to my friends' chagrin...and pumped the remainder of my quarters into the jukebox, playing "The Break-Up Song" over and over.



Today, as I was listening to the track, which sounds just as fresh and amazing now as it did thirty years ago, I realized that it's Greg Kihn trying to be Bruce Springsteen and, in doing so, he ends up writing a song that's better BY FAR than 90% of the tunes Springsteen himself has written.  When Kihn hits that monster of a chorus, belting out "They just don't write them like that anymore" with as much grit as he can muster, that's him trying his best to be Bruce Springsteen.

You know, a lot of us try to be different people.  Heck, I've tried to be Robin Zander on more than one occasion, but I haven't the cheek bones or cleft chin.  Thankfully for us, Greg Kihn decided he wanted to try being The Boss and, while he may not have entirely succeeded, he came up with a damn fine song by doing so.

You're Welcome: Jefferson Starship "Find Your Way Back"

Mention the word "Starship" these days and, more than likely, you'll get a lot of head shaking from friends who immediately start singing the chorus to "We Built This City"; a song that stands as a shining monument to the day-glo eighties and the end of whatever coolness Jefferson Starship might've ever had.

But that's a shame, really, considering the fact that Jefferson Starship did actually have some pretty great moments.

I remember the day I bought the band's Modern Times album based solely on the cover image of Grace Slick climbing out of some computer-generated ocean in a futuristic wetsuit.  Okay, maybe that wasn't actually Slick, but I didn't realize that until I'd gotten home and put the album on my turntable.  By then, "Find Your Way Back" was blaring at top volume and I was digging every second of it.




Of course, it, along with the rest of the album, was considered sacrilege by die-hard Jefferson Airplane fans who held the band to some idealistic 60's hippie promise to never sell out.  Maybe the band thought changing their name to Starship would get them off on a technicality, but no such luck.  We kids didn't care about that stuff, though, we just wanted to rock out and this tune delivered on all fronts.

Even now, when I hear this tune, I am taken back to a world free of pretense, where great songs lie unencumbered from critical judgment and the wind is always blowing through your hair (which you still have, by the way).  Anyone who has stopped believing in the power of rock & roll need only crank this tune at top volume the next time they're stuck in rush hour traffic in their Prius.  They will instantly find themselves speeding down the open road in a cherry Dodge Charger and not a damned care in the world can touch 'em.. 

Okay, chances are those stuck in a beige cubicle for the time being can achieve much the same effect by closing their eyes and raising the volume on their crappy PC speakers to "2" or so (don't wanna disturb the dude in the next cubicle, now).  Listen very quietly, now...allow the song's nuances to soak into your weary bones and, when the chorus approaches, sing "FIND YOUR WAY BACK!" as loud as you can.

Now, pretend like nothing happened.  Everything is normal again...verse, pre-chorus...everybody has settled back into their post-lunch coma...here it comes...wait for it..."FIND YOUR WAY BACK!"  Holy crap, did you see the girl from accounting jump?  Hee hee.  At this point, just crank the tune all the way up and let the office join in on the last chorus with you.

Fuck yeah!

New He's A Whore T-Shirt: Dwight Twilley "Green Blimp"

After first working together to create the now sold-out Dwight Twilley Limited Edition SXSW 2010 t-shirt, we at He's A Whore have created a NEW Dwight Twilley t-shirt that is based on the album cover art for his upcoming CD/LP "Green Blimp", which we also created. 

The artwork, like Twilley's new songs, signifies the beginning of a new, vital chapter for the legendary Twilley and we are happy to be a part of it all.

Through exclusive arrangement with Dwight Twilley, we now make this awesome new t-shirt available to you.

BUY NOW!

CD Review: Stone Temple Pilots

Buy STP Today!

With the release of their new, self-titled CD, Stone Temple Pilots are a band with everything and nothing to prove.  On one hand, the band has a sold gazillions of records and is still capable of putting asses in the seats when they tour.  On the other, they're certainly trying to remain a functional, forward-thinking band and not merely become one of the many 90's hit makers now reduced to nostalgia act.

So, based on that, Stone Temple Pilots is a make-or-break album for the band.

The good news for longtime fans is that the band has never sounded better.  The bad news for those who've long considered the band nothing more than a Pearl Jam rip-off that made good is that the band has made a record that even non-fans will find a whole lot to like.

Album opener "Between The Lines" is a fast-paced rocker that mines the same hard-edged pop territory as bands like Cheap Trick and, on their most recent effort, Pearl Jam.  "Take A Load Off" and "Huckleberry Crumble" quickly follow and return the band to the mid-tempo groove-digging for which they are best known.  Most surprisingly, Scott Weiland, who is still rumored to have fallen off the wagon and returned to dabbling in a variety of chemicals, is in fine voice throughout the album.  Say what you will about his occasional onstage incoherence, the guy does have the fortitude to "bring it" when he's in the studio.

Quite admirably, the band takes some stylistic liberties on this album, bravely stretching their comfort zone.  "Hickory Dichotomy" deviates from the STP formula and, quite refreshingly, stands out as one of the album's highlights while "First Kiss On Mars" allows Weiland to turn in a quite Bowie-esque vocal performance.  Summer days spent driving with the top down were made for songs such as these.

Whether the world is ready for a new, improved Stone Temple Pilots or not, STP has turned in an album that proves quite emphatically that this band's hit-making days might be behind them (no fault of theirs, of course) but that their best days are now.

OK Go Still Don't Get It

Like most everyone, you're more than likely familiar with OK Go's "treadmill video".  You are probably also most recently familiar with their "Rube Goldberg" video, but, crazily enough, might not be able to sing, hum, or name one of the band's songs.


That's because OK Go, while perfectly capable of hiring folks to help them create quite engaging videos, have failed to recognize that where they needed to truly put such emphasis was on the songs.  Oh, but they would never hire someone to help them write better songs.  That would be selling out, man.  Heaven forbid that they should not stop at all costs to give the world the best songs possible. 

After all, they're a rock band.  A rock band that will be remembered for a couple of cute little videos.

Let's look at the facts.  The band's video for "Here It Goes Again" (of which several copies have been posted) has been viewed on YouTube a total of 3,912,205 times.  Additionally, it is so popular that it has been spoofed endlessly since its creation.  Point blank, it is now a staple of modern pop culture.  Say the words "treadmill video" to anyone with eyes, and they will know exactly what you're talking about.

Yet the song itself - the whole reason for the video existing in the first place - was not a hit.  Following in the wake of the video's success on YouTube, MTV started playing the video, the band toured incessantly, appearing on numerous national TV shows, and, still, the song was not a hit.

How does a song given that much attention not become a hit?

Well, if you're OK Go, you blame your label for not promoting you effectively.  That, of course, is what rock bands do anytime they do not see their name at the #1 spot on this week's Billboard chart.  In fact, rock bands have been blaming the label for not promoting them effectively longer than most of you reading this have been alive.

Truth be told, most bands actually have a pretty good argument.  If I had a nickel for the number of albums that a label has spent nearly half a million dollars to create, then flat-out refused to promote (or even release, for that matter), I would literally have more money than Warren Buffett.

But, in the case of OK Go, even if their label, Capitol Records may have dropped the ball initially, once the "treadmill video" took off, they scrambled into action, making sure that music stores across this land were well-stocked with copies of the new album - this time with a huge "TREADMILL VIDEO" sticker on the front cover, just in case there was one soul on this planet who hadn't yet made the connection.

And, still, neither the single or the album took off.

These days, OK Go is now free of their contractual obligations to Capitol Records.  They recognize the power of the internet and firmly believe that they can continue to grow in popularity by utilizing all that the internet has to offer.  To take advantage of such things, they've gone so far as to hire their own "Digital Strategist", Mike Rosenthal, who is in charge of managing every aspect of the band's continued online presence. 



The above interview with Rosenthal is all fine and good.  By watching it, you can definitely see that what Rosenthal has to offer such a band is a great supplementary component to the overall process of creating a sales success story.  The band is no doubt paying Rosenthal handsomely to do what they feel Capitol could not accomplish for them.  Unfortunately, what OK Go have failed to realize, time and time again, is that the actual product (the band's music) is nowhere near as exciting as the commercials (the band's music videos).

Because they continue to miss this key reality, they will continue to throw money at one "Digital Strategist", "Online Consultant" and "Video Director" after another and never achieve the results they so desperately want.  Until they wake up one day, slap themselves on the forehead and say, "Maybe if we wrote better songs," they can fully expect a career of diminishing returns.  Hopefully there will still be enough cash in the budget to hire a "Song Doctor", "Chorus Consultant", or "Advanced Earworm Specialist".

Bret Michaels, Are You Fistfucking Me?!

From the moment that the continuation of Bret Michaels' concert tour was announced, while the rocker was still in the hospital supposedly fighting for his life, I smelled bullshit.  If you've been paying any attention at all, you know that it is getting harder and harder for aging rockers to get their share of the spotlight.  Hell, Kid Rock has been forced to walk into a Waffle House and choke a bitch just to get any press when he has a new album set to drop.

Michaels, of course, has played a mediocre hand amazingly well, going from hair metal has-been to VH1 reality star via the skankalicious "Rock Of Love".  While I can't personally see how anyone could possibly become enthralled in such a show, much less Michaels' obvious faux exterior (seriously, does this guy have any of his original parts at this point?), I am continually reminded that you will never go broke underestimating the intelligence of the American public.

Of course, the recent cover of People magazine, with a pic of Bret's mug and the headline "I Almost Died", just screamed CASH-IN, as does his much-hyped Oprah appearance.

The dude realized he was close to beating "Rock of Love" into the ground, knew he had to promote his appearance in "Celebrity Apprentice", as well as his current U.S concert tour, and was probably kicking himself that he didn't make more out of that little incident with the appendix.  It probably gave him a throbbing headache.

But Michaels decided to turn this headache into the mother of all meal tickets.  I have heard from a reliable source within the hospital where Michael stayed who reports that Michaels' condition was never life-threatening.  In other words, the press merely jumped to their own conclusion that Bret was in critical condition and that his life was in danger.

Meanwhile, according to Bret, he merely caught up on some zzz's and never even took his bandana off.  How serious could his condition have been if he kept his freakin' white trash dew rag on the whole time?

When he was finally released, VH1 conveniently used the event to announce Bret Michaels' new reality series, "Bret Michaels: Life As I Know It".  No, that wasn't a coincidence at all.

Are you fistfucking me?!

Man, if somebody were to put that on a t-shirt...Hey wait, we have done just that.

That's right, for those times when "Are you f'in kidding me?" just won't cut it, we at He's A Whore unveil the new LIMITED-EDITION "Are You F*stfucking Me?!" t-shirt.

(close-up detail of the design)

This rockin' tee will definitely be a conversation starter and, while we wouldn't necessarily recommend trotting this bad boy out on Casual Friday, hey, who are we to stop you?

100% pre-shrunk cotton black tee with light blue design created by Darren Robbins.

Available in S, M, L, XL, and 2XL

BUY IT NOW!

On Sale For A Penny! "Where The BLEEP Is Bun E. Carlos?!" T-shirt!

What better way to show your love for one of the greatest rock drummers EVER than by wearing this awesome LIMITED EDITION t-shirt the next time you go see Cheap Trick?

Designed and screen-printed by He's A Whore honcho Darren Robbins, this is a two-color design on a 100% cotton pre-shrunk t-shirt.

Here is a close-up of the design:

(click to enlarge)

As with all He's A Whore shirts, this is a LIMITED EDITION of 100 shirts.  Once they're gone, they're gone so buy yours today.

BUY NOW!

What I dig most about Bun E. Carlos is that when he got behind a set of drums, he did so with the eyes and ears of an archeologist.  Sure, he was influenced to pick up the drums by someone.  Was it Ringo or, perhaps Louie Bellson?  Regardless, Bun E. quickly became a sponge, making note of the stylistic differences and unique approaches employed by all the great drummers of the modern era.  From that palette of colors, Bun E. has crafted his own style, giving Cheap Trick's music exactly what it needs at any given time and being the propulsive backbone behind one of rock's greatest live acts of all time.

My dad was a drummer and, being that there was already a kit around the house, I soon took up the sticks myself.  All things considered, it was one of the few things my dad and I had in common.  Like most parents, he found 95% of the current music my brother and I listened to in the late 70's and early 80's to be unlistenable.  One day, though, as my brother and I were rocking out to Cheap Trick's At Budokan, he poked his head in the door and asked, "Who's that?"

Before long, my dad was as big a fan of the band as we were, taking us to our first Trick concert during the One On One tour.  Six months later, when the band announced that they were coming back to the area, my dad found out about it before we did and surprised us with tickets. 

What he dug most about the band, and Bun E. Carlos in particular, was that, while their sound was a hybrid of post-punk energy and radio-ready hooks, it was, at its core, based on a traditional 50's rock sound.  One need only listen to the band's legendary version of "Ain't That A Shame" to realize that this is a band with a healthy respect and admiration for rock's earliest pioneers.

It was that respect and knowledge of the past that made Cheap Trick what they were; a great live band with the ability to pull out a great blues groove, then have you swaying to a pop ballad just before flattening you with all the ferocity of The Who at their peak - all in the span of three songs.

My dad passed away several years ago, having been in and out of hospitals for the last few years of his life as he battled heart problems.  In one instance, my mom showed up at his hospital room one day to see him getting dressed and preparing to check himself out.  He had just remembered that Cheap Trick was performing in the area that night and wasn't going to miss it. 

Ultimately, though, my mom and the doctors were able to talk him out of going to the show.  By then, I was living two thousand miles away in Los Angeles, but when my mom told me about Dad's desire to go see Cheap Trick that night, I've got to say that I was prouder than I've ever been to be his son and, at the same time, incredibly saddened by the reality of my father's situation.

Having recently relocated to Austin, TX, I was absolutely delighted when I heard that Cheap Trick would be in town for the SXSW festival and a taping of Austin City Limits.  When I heard that Bun E. Carlos would not be with the band for these appearances, I was stunned, to say the least.  Speculation ran wild.  Was Bun E. having health issues, many wondered, or had he simply chosen to retire from the road? 

Either way, it was the closing of one of the greatest chapters in rock history when Bun E. Carlos played his last show with the band.  Oddly enough, I missed the shows as well due to the fact that I was running around town conducting interviews and working with a few other bands during the festival.

Thankfully, it appears that Bun E. is in fine health and has hopped off the tour bus to stay a little closer to home these days.  His five decades of service in the rock battalion known as Cheap Trick have given millions of rock fans delight and memories that we cherish to this day. 

Still, the next time I see Cheap Trick, which will be in Vegas later this summer, it will be a sad day for me.  In fact, it will have a lot in common with the last time I saw them in Vegas when Bun E. got up from his drum throne about three songs into the band's set and was replaced by Rick Nielsen's son Daxx due to back problems he was having at the time.

This time, while I will marvel at Daxx's abilities to reprise Bun E.'s parts from all those early albums, I will miss the two people who always made Cheap Trick concerts so special for me; my dad, of course, and Bun E. Carlos.

Here's some cool Trick outtakes/rarities:

Oo La La
Rock All Night
Tonight It's You
X-Rated
Y.O.Y.O.Y.
Radio Lover

My Thoughts On The American Flag Controversy

On May 5, administrators at a California High School sent home 5 students for wearing patriotic t-shirts depicting the American flag.  The administrators told the students that it was fine to wear an American flag t-shirt on any other day, except today.  Mexican-American students at the school had complained about the shirts, saying that they were "offended" that these students would do such a thing on a Mexican holiday.

I am personally offended that even one Mexican-American student would take offense to an American wearing an American flag t-shirt in America.  After all, they are in America.  Additionally, it is a Mexican holiday.  This is not Mexico.

What offends me even more is that the school administrators sided with the Mexican-American students at the school and sent home the students wearing American flag t-shirts.

Hold your hats, though.  It gets worse.

What appalls me to the very core of my being is that a large group of people later protested the school's decision.  No, they weren't protesting the fact that the administrators sent the students home.  They were protesting the fact that the students weren't punished more harshly.

Are you fistfucking me?!

Do you realize how ignorant, or full of righteous Mexican-American entitlement you have to be to openly celebrate a foreign country's holiday on American soil while, at the same time, denying Americans the right to wear patriotic t-shirts?  The fact that the administrators at this particular school believed that wearing an American flag t-shirt in America on May 5 is "incendiary" is the absolute height of mindlessness.  That these people have any say in what children are being taught on a daily basis in California is mind boggling.

Even worse is that there are enough people who think the kids who wore the American flag t-shirts weren't punished severely enough to stage a protest.  Who the fuck do these people think they are.  More importantly, where do they think they are?

This is America.  Just in case any of you may have forgotten.

While we welcome those from other countries who enter our borders legally, and urge them to feel free to remain patriotic to their countries of origin, never shall the flags, colors, or holidays of said country of origin take precedent over those of America.  America does not stop being America on May 5.  While you may see hundreds of Mexican flags being waved on that particular day, this is not Mexico.  Each and every one of these people celebrating Cinco De Mayo, who came from Mexico, chose to leave their own country for a better life in America.

Why do you celebrate the holiday of a country you willingly left?  I personally have no idea, but I will also not begrudge someone the right to do so.  By the same token, if I chose to leave America for a better life in, say, Paris, France, I would not take to the streets on July 4th waving my American flag like a mad man, shooting off firecrackers, and asking where the nearest fireworks celebration would be taking place.  Nor would I take offense to someone wearing a t-shirt with the flag of France on it, or call their actions "incendiary".  It's France, for fuck's sake.

The decision of this particular school administration, and of those in the community who didn't think the students were punished severely enough, seems like such absolute backwards thinking to me.  Maybe, instead of calling May 5 "Cinco De Mayo", we should call it what it really is..."Backwards Day"

10 Signs You're A Hipster

10. You paid top-dollar for tickets to see Conan O'Brien's comedy tour, then immediately updated your Facebook status, tweeted, and texted all your cool friends to rub it in their faces. Only thing is they got tickets too, dammit.

9. You have an NPR and/or Apple logo sticker on the rear window of your Prius.

8. You militantly recycle, to the point that even tree huggers find you annoying.

7. You proclaim the latest Radiohead or Wilco "the greatest album EVER" without even needing to remove the shrink wrap. You honestly believe that listening to said album would ruin the experience.

6. You can't enjoy anything at face value. You laugh not at what is funny but at what you think Jack Kerouac would find mildly amusing, failing, of course, to realize that Jack Kerouac was a huge fucking asshole.

5. You saw "Little Miss Sunshine" 36 times, own it on DVD and Blu-Ray even though you have yet to acquire a Blu-Ray player. You had tickets to the stage production before the producers even knew they were going to make a stage production. Greg Kinnear lives in fear.

4. You have an unkempt beard and own a man purse, but call it a book bag.

3. You smoke only when there is someone there to see you do it, or to whom you can say "I'm taking a smoke break, be back in five."

2. You broke up with your last serious boyfriend/girlfriend when they accidentally mocked a MGMT song. Plus, they owned way too many Journey albums (one).

1. You don't like anything unless Pitchfork, Village Voice, the BBC's Steve Lamacq or anyone on NPR raves about it first.

Chris Walla and J. Robbins "Mercury" (NPR's Project Song)

Anyone who doesn't yet recognize the subtle genius of Death Cab's Chris Walla need only watch this installment of NPR's Project Song.  J. Robbins (Jawbox, Burning Airlines) and Walla craft a gem of a tune that perfectly frames their two voices in such a way that's really quite breathtaking.

I was actually not a huge J. Robbins fan prior to this, but I love what he brought to this song.

Patton Outs A Plagiarist

On his Myspace blog, Patton Oswalt showed some footage yesterday of a comedian by the name of Nick Madson borrowing quite liberally from Oswalt's comedy playbook.  This is very much like the time Joe Rogan busted Carlos Mencia for swiping some of his jokes, going so far as to confront Mencia in front of a live crowd.



While I'm not a huge Oswalt fan by any stretch, I will give the guy credit for putting the incident in a proper perspective.  Still, I've always found the idea of "stealing bits" as being a source for much undue venom by comedians.  Have they never seen a cover band making very good money to play other people's material?  Of course they have.  We all have.

Hell, on any given night in L.A., see a band like the Atomic Punks not only cover Van Halen, but imitate them right down to the singer who does a better David Lee Roth imitation than Diamond Dave can do these days.  Such bands are never required to pay one red penny for the right to cover another band's songs, or to approximate their appearance.  I've seen bands that tour the country performing albums by the likes of Pink Floyd, Bruce Springsteen, and the Beatles in their entirety.  They manage to pack clubs and auditoriums, all the while making thousands of dollars each night.  They do so freely and without any apologies.

Thus, I've always wondered why there aren't comedians all over the place who simply perform the "hits" of other comedians.  I mean, if they're able to do the material any justice at all, that wouldn't be such an awful thing, would it?  I mean, a Dane Cook fan can either wait for Cook to come back to town again, or simply go see Joe Schmo at the local Funny Farm or Giggles on any given weekend and have just as much fun with the ol' lady.

It appears that Madson has since sent Oswalt an apology letter, which Patton posted on his blog.  Madson writes in part:

Please know that I do not travel around the country telling your jokes.  This was a performance that I did as a fundraiser for a crowd of about 12 of our friends.  I know this appology [sic] does not take anything back, and does not by any means make anything right.  I do not know what I can say, or exactly how to appologize [sic], as I have no personal manager or any one to consult with about my first public scandel [sic].   I hope you can trust I will not go around telling your jokes, and I am sincerely sorry that all of this had to happen.  I wish I could take it back and do things differently, but I cannot.

In addition to being a crappy comedian, Madson is also:

a) a shitty speller...seriously, who doesn't know how to spell "apology" by fifth grade?  

b) a total bald-face liar.  Turns out the event was not a benefit (the theater where this took place is doing just fine) and that Madson and the other performers all got paid.  It seems Madson had told those in charge of the event that he was getting ready to star in his own Comedy Central special and wanted to work on some material.  This, too, was a lie.

c) a complete scumbag douche for not just coming clean by saying "My bad, it'll never happen again."

While this guy sounds like a real piece of work whose name is now rightfully mud, I still contend that the concept of cover comedians remains just as viable...as long as the performer-in-question is absolutely up-front about the origin of their material.  Comedy bits, like songs, take on a life all their own when aired on a TV show or released on a comedy CD.  Do I pummel my buddy Justin for getting up at an open mic and doing some of his favorite Mitch Hedberg jokes?  What if the club invites him back and pays him to reprise his routine?  Do I and a mob of locals tar and feather him the minute he finishes his set?

Of course not.