Guys want to know who's funny?

You know who's fucking funny? Employee Of Th' Month is fucking funny.

I mean, don't get me wrong. All th' fucking regulars around here bring me puking and gasping to my knees constantly. It has become very important to me because I consider laughter to be possibly my one remaining hope. But this fucking guy is like the Zorro of Funny, the way he sort of dances in, strikes and disappears.

I think the Word Verification Definitions are sort of the proving ground. I'm working on a post of these dating back to like Sep-Oct. around there when they started. There's some scorchers. There's some really bad ones too that are awesome.

Guys cheat much? No, I don't mean that- do you put in your comment and then just keep hitting "submit" until you get one you like? I do. I think it's fine. It's the essence of Enlightenment for me, see? Fuckin' peasants in 1330 would NEVER have had time for this shit. They'd just type in some crap about the crops and Jesus (boy, what fucking era does that remind me of, now?) and get back to contracting diseases and walking around all bummed and with weird hair and pustules and buboes and such upon their pudendium. And droppin' sootikins. Look 'er up.

And the witches kissin' th' debbil's ass. I love that. They were so fucked up in the Middle Ages. Jesus. Can you imagine if The Beatles had come out in the Middle Ages? Dude, they wouldn't be able to get arrested. Actually, that's probably exactly what would have happened. They would have burned those ebullient and buboeless youngsters before you could say "thick and ordinary". John wouldn't have made it to third grade. Ringo would have croaked of dysentery. Paul would be O.K. George would of course have been some fuckin' monk.

I can't believe there hasn't been a band named The Peasants. In the 60's, you know? With like peasant outfits and bowl haircuts? It's like songs. You can't believe there can be so many out of only so few notes and words. And they just keep comin'. Good, bad, indifferent.

Fucking Employee Of The Month? Oh, my Christ. Just look at my last post where he says, "Superdog- never forgotten". God damn it, dude. You're killing me here.

Employee Of The Month. Never forgotten.

Next: teh l4m3 And The Search For Reason.

Just A Quick Administrative Task-

Are SO motherfuckin' liars.


Might I Consider It A Safe Assumption That We Haven't Forgotten About Superdog?

See, I'm going to just qualify this and then put it to bed. This isn't just ANY picture of a cute, dopey-looking dog in an outfit. This is some sort of clever, hubristic little terrier, Jack Russell or Fox or whatever. And the thing is, you get a dog like that into a super outfit, that dog is going to believe they ARE super, like a little kid would. And that's why I love Superdog. See, when a dog like this has its ears back it's an expression of fear or shame or pain. And I love the cant of Superdog's ears because it's like he actually feels a little shameful that he's so fucking cool. You know? Like he doesn't want anyone else to have to feel less cool just because he's so ass-kickingly asskicking.

And the way his mouth is open connotes some sort of ongoing action, some adventure afoot. It's like he could only drop from the sky long enough for one photo and he's got to get back to foiling terrorists and eviscerating pit bulls.

Yay, Superdog! Rock, Superdog! Rock!

When The Student Is Ready The Teacher Will Appear

you know what I've never had? Well, yeah, that too. I never found two chicks that could get along well enough for the fifteen minutes required. And I've never had thousands upon thousands of people chant my name in adulation. 'Course, any idiot with some patience and a sniper rifle could have that right about now if they wanted.

Hey- some musician humor- you have to have something to say when people yell "Freebird". I've always loved flippin' 'em off and saying, "no charge". That's a good one. I also like, "What? Larry Bird's in trouble?"

I saw this guy once, whatsisname from School For The Dead, umm...Henning. Henning Olenbusch. Anyway, he feigned utter ignorance of the song. THAT was funny. I thought I was going to fucking drop straight down. I gripped the bar. My buddies th' Del Rays used to kick into the full 14 minute opus. Brilliantly.

So, anyway- never had a mentor of any sort. Sure, I've had plenty of role models. I've always had Neddie around to subtly suggest I not shove my head up my ass a couple. My mom has a talent for removing th' wheat from the chaff if you know what I mean. But anyway, as for anyone with a lot of experience in my chosen field guiding my footsteps, nah. My manager Case Clayborne had the gift of nurture and a level head but sometimes in my business you have to learn the skill of rank assholehood. It's expected. And Case is a fine, rosewood-inlaid teak letter opener when oftimes a lead fucking pipe is the tool for th' job.

I think it's because anyone in this biz who is old is succesful or they're in another line by now. It's like, Cobain got to sit at Stipe's feet in his day, for all the good it did him. But he didn't get to sit at his feet until he was like Jesus Of Th' Disembarassed.

Zimmie had Woody Guthrie. That's a great story. Dylan must have known how good that would be in print. Dylan had an unerring motherfucking instinct. How it would look from that vantage point of success. What a great story it would be.

Beatles never had anyone like that. They were shysted every step of th' way by suits and such. But there couldn't be anyone because they were unprecedented. They were the very first brick in the wall of the Youth Culture that we all puke over so much Today. Yeah, it's a bitter pill, I know. Tell yourself it tastes like pommodori al puttanesca.

I find the wisdom of age in the oddest places. Like Ray at Cahillane Dodge. Ray can tell you what Northampton looked like in 1933 and how they built all these canals and shit and it will blow your little mind. And Ray's dirty, man. I GUARANTEE you that Ray gets laid. And Ray's totally up on computers and the internets and he'll probably google himself and read this so I have to make it all nice. Which I would do anyway. Because Ray shreds.

As far as music, I couldn't really name one single older professional musician who's ever given me the goods. It's pretty much stumbling in the dark. Everything changes as far as the media and the technology and the commercial avenues but certain things are always going to stay the same. Like, stay hydrated at all times. Or, your vocal chords are like any other muscle that needs to be stretched, toned and warmed up. Or, sometimes you do have to lift with your back because there are other weight flashpoints like your abdomen and your knees. Your KNEES, man! That crap about lifting with your legs? Ay, ay, ay.

DON'T lift. Don't ever lift. Roll. I've been trying to find a little amp I can use for rehearsals and smaller gigs instead of my SWR goddamn stack but the thing rolls. Any little 300 watt combo? You're going to be lifting that fucker. Don't lift. Roll.

Don't slump. Always sit up straight because slumping creates a pressure in your abdomen that is stressful.

You have to keep an old set of bass strings so if you need to punch in that bass line later it doesn't sound different. You keep a set of "sort of old" strings, a set of "pretty old" strings and a set of "totally old strings" depending on the overdub.

When I worked for Martyne in Jane's Addiction it was, "every time I put down a bass it gets a new set of strings". Every time.

I didn't have to actually buy a set of bass strings after that. From '01 to '03. I had a fucking hamper of played-once GHS Boomers.

Those guys can't be mentors, though. They live in a fairyland and are endearingly convinced of their own merits. And you can't blame 'em because it really does look like they succeeded on their talents. And let's not pretend that that isn't a part of the equation, no matter how minor. Plus, they're not old enough. Guys are only a few older than me.

All my college profs where sort of puds except Roland Wiggins the pianist was fuckin' awesome and Ray Copeland who played flugel for 'Trane was a monster of modern harmelodic theory. And I use ALL that stuff. I use it in my piano parts and I use it in th' Monster Harmonies. Those are all jazz-voiced, open-chord-closed-chord sort of bebop horn section-ish. Stuff doesn't get as gooey as you need it until you start flatting the odd 13th, you know? Fagen knows how to cut that shit. My biggest song ever, "I Could Cry" by fiction, the big note of the song, the big chorus note, was a 4th over a minor 7th.

It's probably just my own mistrust. Every intuition I've ever had or ever seen anyone else have in the business was wrong. Young, old, indifferent. All wrong. If I was your A&R guy I would choose the wrong single every fucking time.

Young people have sought to cast me in this role from time to time and I accept but only on a musical level. Coming to me for career wisdom would be like goin' to Achilles for fucking ankle stretches. It would be like going to Joan of Arc for sunburn advice. It'd be like going to Elton John for cunnilingus tips. Hee hee. Cunnilingus tips 'n' dirty rice. With some nice Moxy.

That'll put some hair on your god damn fucking chest canus.


It's "Th'" Harridans. Just wanted to clear that up.

Chuck Berry sez "Th' Harridans are boss! I installed cameras in their bathrooms!"

Never Been Compared To Phil Collins (and other small blessings)

Yeh, ain't never been compared to this doof.

Never been compared to Yanni. Live at th' Acropolis.

Been compared to Lenny Kravitz a whole bunch but at least he's half-black. Lots of Elvis C. comparisons but that's just because I'm angry and I use big words. I sound about as much like Declan as Creed does. Which is quite not much.

Been compared to th' Beatles. Anyone who uses chords and melody sounds like th' Beatles, fuck knows. Been compared to Paul McCartney quite a bit. That's because I rip him off shamelessly. I basically sit down at the keyboard and think which McCartney song am I going to rewrite tonight?

That's the Jellyfish influence.

Been compared to Burt Bacharach a time or two. That is high god damn praise right there, canus. Everybody knows he's a peerless genius.

Been compared to Brian Wilson a whole lot; again high praise. As long as it isn't in reference to the rhythm side of things. No man ever born whiter than Brian Wilson. Except for your Repugnican politicos, but they're not really men, are they? They're more like walking ads for what happens to bad little children who never learn to stop picking their noses.

Some dipshits have compared me to Elton John, which I can live with sort of, and Billy Joel, which I can't live with. But these are just because there's a piano and a male voice. I'd rather be compared to Days of th' New than that god damn child molestin' Billy Joel. THAT fucking guy.

One wag compared me to Bon Jovi. Just goes to show how people bring their own damn plate to the table. This one though? Kindly remove it or I will dash it into th' fireplace. Bon Jovi. Jesus. Why hurt a man like that? Compare my bank account to his. Then we'll be square.

Tell ya who I'd LIKE to be compared to but perhaps haven't yet earned the right: I'd like to be compared to Sam Cooke. No Sam Cooke comparisons coming down the pike that I've seen. I'd like to be compared to Roxy Music. That'd be sweet indeet. Americans don't get th' Roxy, though. Americans don't generally get music that involves eyeliner unless it's a) some broad or b)Poison. Or that god damn poser from Green Day. That guy is starting to make my dick itch. I didn't mind Green Day that much when they was good for a retrochuckle but now he's like th' Rebel Icon Millionaire registered trademark. Phuck that. Kurt C. couldn't live with that, Billy Joe. Don't see why you should. Fuck Green Day and that guy Rob Cavallo that ghostwrites every note they play.

Who else? Who else? Well, I could live with being compared to Rufus Wainwright, of course. He's our best hope right now for ambitious music having any sort of future. I'm too testosterone-poisoned for that, though. The Sacred Feminine is sadly lacking in my output. Try as I may. Try, try, try.

I do get the odd XTC comparison. I think that's just from people I know who know how badly I want it. These are kind of like when a woman acts like you're large. What a huge kindness that is. No pun intended. Very loveable. I'm simply too American to ever sound like XTC. And just not quite unmitigatedly excellent enough. And I play live to eat. A little. If I developed an aversion to live playing I would be well and truly fucked. Quite the opposite is true for me; I suffer from a not-entirely-healthy aversion to doing pretty much anything but playing live. Truly I am th' anti-Partridge.

No comparisons to the Rev. Al Green yet. Part of that might be because I think God is a first-rate spankaddict and a tool to boot. Plus the whole being white thing hurts this. In fact, the being white thing hurts a lot of comparisons. White and straight. Where to go? Where to go?

So there's that. All very, very important material. Crucial shit.


She-Wolves of th' SS.

yeah, I'll get back to work on the little point I'm trying to make about the folly of SEXUALIZING FUCKING EVERYTHING FOR CASH CASH CASH. But I wanted to give this guy a prod because he's all on about good music and good albums and he's smart. I've certainly never met him but his blog is an excellent read and he seems like one of us.

And by the way, check out the Nazi Olsen Twins. See what I mean?

The Wonders that th' 21st century promises just make me want to tie a rubber fucking band around my dick and just fucking jaundice myself to a slow death.

4 Lightfoots go to the unique stylings of Punk Is Dead at Caps and Spelling. Hope you find that Rhodes.