Done, Dumb, and Dung

My Illinois reunion tour has come to an end. I survived (barely).

I'm heading back to DC at the break of dawn tomorrow, and hopefully will have some time to post up a wrap-up of my Midwestern adventure sometime in the near future.

Happy trails, little cowpokers.

Alcoholidays

It looks like everyone has better things to do this holiday season than lurk about the blogosphere. I don't blame you. I'm getting ready for a two-day Corn-Town hard-drinkin' throw-down. Well, that and thinking of more gratuitous ways to string together hyphenated words that rhyme.

I'll try to post a wrap-up together of the festivities as soon as I sober up and/or make bail.

Strontium, and Other Heavy Metals

My so-called friend, Stormy, is dragging me out to a friggin' Metal show at Otto's tonight. I'm not quite sure who's playing, as the band logos are far too pointy and menacing to be legible. Luckily, I had a pair of black jeans and a t-shirt with a skull on it at my parents' place, so I should blend in fine.

Wish me luck, and remember: Satan, Satan, Satan!

Proser

Okay, after four months of stalling I've decided to clean-up and post the rest of the second-coming short story. I wrote this last July to read at Chris B's Xtreme (il)Literature Slam. I posted the first part back in August, but never got around to posting the rest of the story (despite several inquiries into the matter). I'm kinda a jerk like that.

Anyway, here is the rest of the 5-page version of the story (I didn't have the patience to clean-up the 12-pager). It is the same version I read back in August.

First, read THE FIRST PART .

Then, Here's the rest:

Parts Two and Three

Things have been really fucked-up Jesus came back to Earth.

He descended to Mount Olivet just a few months ago (at least that’s the general consensus). That’s when the entire area became enshrouded in light and angels began congregating around the mound. No one saw him for over a week, so you can’t say for sure, but within a few days of the shroud of light’s descent the entire eastern half of Jerusalem was packed with pilgrims awaiting the rapture.

It was widely reported that the concept of “rapture” was conceived and popularized by John Nelson Darby in the 19^th century, as part of the Dispensationalist movement, but that didn’t dissuade the pilgrims. If anything, any rationalization of the ongoing events just strengthened their belief… poor bastards.

By the 13^th day all of the world’s religious leaders had congregated around the base of the mountain the western slope – facing Jerusalem. The military had tried to dissipate the crowds, but were quickly overwhelmed. By this time it was a solid sea of bodies for 5 miles in every direction.

On the thirteenth day Jesus appeared from beneath the shroud, on the western slope, toward Jerusalem.

Personally, I think that he was freaked-out by all of the crosses that littered the landscape. Hell, if martin Luther King or JFK came back to life, I’m sure that the last thing that they’d want to see is a fucking hunting rifle, but that’s just me.

Anyway, he took off running through the crowd – He didn’t get far. All at once the crowd of faithful surged forward, crushing the religious leaders and the man-god in one unstoppable throng of humanity. He didn’t stand a chance.

Within 5 minutes of the second coming of Christ, pilgrims in search of the ultimate relic were ripping him to pieces. I watched it all live on CNN – a bird’s-eye view of the evisceration of the messiah. I could see it unfolding before me – it was truly horrible.

That’s when things got decidedly Old Testament. Time went sideways. Everything slowed down, or sped up, or whatever. My fancy-ass monkey brain can’t describe it well enough, or even begin to comprehend it for that matter. If you want a technical explanation, ask an angel – those fuckers seem to be everywhere.

All I know is that all of a sudden it was like we were living in breathable water. Then a few seconds/minutes/hours/days (who knows) later the rapture happened. Well, I call it the rapture, but that’s just gallows’s humor; there definitely was no ascension involved. Everyone just sorted melted in agony and were consumed by the earth. Poof, gone.

Then everything went back to normal.

---

I assumed that everyone else had been consumed by God’s wrath. I went outside; no one else was around. I was alone.

As I drove to the Home Depot to grab some generators, there was no one else around. As I filled up barrel after barrel of gasoline at the gas station, no one was to be seen. I even backed my Jeep right up to the front door of Atlantic Guns, and filled it to the brim with rifles, handguns, and mostly ammo… (All of the ammo), and there weren’t any signs of life.

On the way back I headed downtown to grab some top shelf bourbon and tequila. That’s when I realized that I wasn’t alone. A small group of bums were building a huge bonfire out of furniture in the middle of 7th street. They saw me coming and started charging. I whipped across to the oncoming lane and got out of there as quick as I could. When I got back I parked in my backyard and unloaded everything down into the basement.

I spent the next week holed up in the basement in the dark surrounded by what liquor I had left, a mattress, and a motherload of guns. I was too afraid to hook up the generators. I figure if there were other survivors out there that the telltale whir of a diesel engine or the glow of electric light would create attention that I wasn’t ready for. I stayed huddled in a dark corner with my finger on the trigger of an AK-47 for 9 days straight. It’ll fucking eat at you.

Lack of bottled water and toilet paper was my downfall. I found that it was easy to shit in a hole in the yard, but a real trick to clean up with notebook paper and water that had accumulated in the neighbor’s birdbath. I had all the guns in the world (for all intents and purposes), but you just can’t wipe off shit with a shotgun or drink a revolver. Without basic provisions or a fresh water supply, I was doomed. Plus, I was almost out of cigarettes, and had started into the bottle of Vermouth as a last resort. It was time to go.

I used my second-to-last bottle of water to give myself a good lathering of soap, and changed into some fresh clothes. It felt good. I threw a few clothes in a knapsack; grabbed a rifle, a shotgun, and 2 pistols; filled a couple of dry-boxes with ammo; threw a generator and two cans of gas in the back of the Jeep; locked up everything in the back room; and walked out into the warm sunlight.

I headed straight south down 13^th toward downtown. The entire way was punctuated by the frantic barking of dogs from behind closed doors. They could hear the hum of the engine and seemed to be hoping against hope that their masters had returned to let them out, give them food, and not beat them too hard for the piles of shit all over the living room carpet. It was a futile effort, but that was all they had.

I’d drive through the occasional pile of charred debris in the road, and occasionally I’d see a body or two (or three) in the road, but nothing alive. From the looks of the corpses it seemed like the gang bangers that remained tried for a king of the mountain/lord of the flies end times winner-take-all turf war. By my estimation, everybody lost. I didn’t see any remaining signs of human live all the way down to U Street, but the rats were out in force.

I parked in the alcove of the bus lot between S and T. There were plenty of other cars around, and if nobody saw me pull in, then the car should blend in undetected. I tucked the 1911 pistol into my waistband, and grabbed the AK to go do some shopping. I filled my backpack with spare ammo, and covered everything else in the back up with a blanket. I figured that I’d hit one of my old haunts, The Black Cat, first and see what I could salvage from there first. It was familiar, should have a lot of what I needed, and the less stops the better.

The door was boarded up but open, and I scurried in – rifle first. I turned the corner and was met with an unexpected sight. I came face to face with the barrel of a Mossberg street sweeper. Nobody shot (but just barely). I think I saved myself by saying “I’ve got some shells for that, if you need ‘em”. The words came out all hoarse and squeaky. It was at that point when I realized that I hadn’t said anything (aside from the random cursing streak) for over a week.

Once I looked past the barrel of the 12 gauge, I realized that I knew that I recognized the holder, and I could see that she recognized me. It was Molly, one of the Black Cat bartenders. I looked further around; there were two more people I knew there, along with a few other people I didn’t know, and oddest of all… a fucking angel passed out and bound to the bar. Even during the apocalypse, The Black Cat seemed the place to be.

Word from the crowd was that after the non-rapture people just started coming out of the woodwork. Most of them were not the type of people you’d want surviving the end of the world. Apparently, I’d made a sound decision to hole-up for a few days. It was an all-out throw down between the dregs of society. Junkies, bums, gang members, thugs, and the disaffected all jockeyed for position at the top of this new world without society, law, or God. A couple of the girls in the place had been raped, a couple of the Black Cat refugees had died fending off attackers, and everybody there (aside from me) had witnessed death up close and personal. The world was a mess.

The angel was still lying out-cold on the bar, but everyone had something to say about it. All agreed that:

A) The fucking thing spoke like Dr. Seuss.

B) It wasn’t happy that people were still on the Earth.

C) It definitely couldn’t hold its liquor

D) Most of what it said was dead wrong… Angels lie.

The angels had descended to take dominion over the world, and were very surprised to find survivors. They had tried to talk God into cleaning up the rest, but he was either gone, or not listening.

This angel clamed to be Uriel, who (according to the Goth chick with the pink hair) used to be a huge big-shot in heaven. Who knows how he ended up here; the one thing that is for sure is that once he got here and realized his boss was on vacation he hit the bar – Hard.

Molly told me that it had said that we were “remained” because we didn’t have the common sense to repent. Our stubbornness or ignorance had spared us.

I hadn’t even thought about it, but she was right. I was too engrossed in the television coverage from day-one to think about praying. I had been an Agnostic since I was 15, but was too perplexed by the happenings to even think about the implications. I was saved by my stupidity. I saw the proof of the divine, and was too awe-struck to accept it. I kept waiting for what followed next… Like an idiot.

Somehow we all ducked the omnipotent rage of God. We were too awe-struck, willful, stupid, or fucked-up to accept the obvious. We looked straight into the eye of god and went “pfft”.

Everyone in the place had a story about religion, and not one of those stories had a happy ending. That small crowd was filled with boys who had been fucked up the ass by their childhood priest, girls who were molested by pious family members, kids who were disowned by their religious parents for their decisions, or those who had suffered a great loss that defied reason. Everyone there had rejected God, and he didn’t seem to think enough of us to bother.

We are the damaged remnants of humanity, and all that remained were strippers, thugs, drug addicts, whores, homos, the hate-filled, a couple of Goth kids, and me. We are the soul-less scorned ex-girlfriends of God.

We are the dejected meek, and we have inherited the earth. We’re just not sure that we want it.

I'm Dreaming of a Drunk Christmas

It's official. The 3rd annual D-Town Christmas bash will be THIS Friday at the Flamingo.

I'll be representin'; will you?

Original Wisconsin

I'm on my way up to Prairie Du Chein, Wisconsin. We're going up to look at a piece of property that my parents just bought along the Mississippi Reagan.

I'm going along on the conditions that we stop at Cabella's, the Mount Horeb Mustard Museum, and the New Glarus Brewery.
Uff Da, bitches!

- Sent From Blackberry Handheld -

MOTO Rockin'

Last night the crew headed down to the Hideout for the MOTO show. MOTO was awesome (as usual) and the opener Das Kapital (Marc Ruvolo's new band) was pretty fucking good. Saw a bunch of people I haven't seen in a while and got my mandatory fill of the rock.
After the show, we headed out to Exit for psychobilly night. All I remember is wandering out of there at 4am and heading to the liquor store up on Belmont.
Somehow, I managed to drown yesterday's hang-over in Old Styles and Jager shots, and this morning I'm good as new. Tonight is Quatre Tete at Empty Bottle, and I'm already rarin' to go.

Everything's coming up Millhouse.

Christ(on-a-crutch)mas Party

I'm dying here. Last night was Miss Elise's annual holiday blow-out. I think I blew-out my frontal-lobe.

It was a night of liquor, tracksuits, liquor, turducken, liquor, malicious biting, liquor, and liquor. I learned that Croatian moonshine doesn't mix well with champagne. I learned that Algerians find endless amusement in ladies lighting farts. I learned that if you get your cervix cut out, you get a Prada bag. I learned that Gavin is flammable, but Albert is not. It was a night of learning. Okay, I learned nothing, but had one hell of a time.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to vomit (again).

Suparna and Elise rock the Hip-hopera velour tracksuits.

Chicago-a-go-go

I'm out representin' in the city of wind. If any of y'all want to join in the fun, I'll be out at the MOTO show at the Hideout tomorrow and out at the Quatre Tete show at Empty Bottle on Friday.

I thought that I'd have some time to type out a couple of stories while I was out here, but I've been inundated with the drink. Look for something early next week (hopefully).

Seacrest out.

Here I Came

Back on homefield turf.
11 Hours - 15 minutes
Done

Will have more details later, but now - Beer.

- Sent From Blackberry Handheld -

Ready or Not...

I'm packed and ready to head out sometime between 4AM and 5AM tomorrow morning - look for updates from the road.

Late-Night Weekday Stream of Consciousness Prose Entry

There’s something about a woman - Some fiery determination that leaves me helpless to resist. Men are men, women are gods. Old pagan gods filled with irrational wrath and fury. Crazy gods. The fun gods.

I can’t hold any sentimentality for other men. Fuck, I provoked a fistfight with the old drunken doctor that brought me into this world. It was nearly 2 decades after his shaky hand cut the umbilical cord, when happenstance brought my drug-addled ass to his ER. That night started in the company of women – one too many, to be precise. I didn’t care, and still don’t - Sentimentality is for women – That’s what makes them special.

I actually prefer the company of men. There’s no pressure to be spectacular, no expectation of brilliance. It’s comforting. It’s safe. It’s boring. It’s nice. Nice is boring. Nice doesn’t get you laid.

Women are whiskey, men are water. There’s an intoxication in being around that certain girl – More like a shot of epinephrine dragging you out of a weekday morphine overdose. An excitement, a fear - A sharp knife slashing through the haze – Amplifying the high by tingeing it with frantic shock. Paralysis, poison, oxygen deprivation – Love, lust, desire. Semantics.

I sit drinking vodka and sour cherry juice. Drinking a girl drink, and that’s not bad. Pouring it out, drinking it down – slightly drunk and mostly damaged. Punching at a keyboard like drunks before me waved fists at the sky - Wishing that that special girl was still awake, or that any other one was knocking at the door.

Stick and Carrot

I spent the day today cramming 2,000 pounds of runny horseshit into a 1 pound sack full of holes. That's right folks, I wrote out a new resume. If any of you academic, business, or pseudo-literate types out there want to give it a good paint job with some red ink, I'd be in your debt. Just shoot an e-mail out to my Gmail account, and I'll forward it out to you.

I feel cheap using up a post begging, so I'm letting you in on a piss-poor secret. At the urging of Ed, I've decided to write one piece of random prose (almost) every day and post it up here on L&E. Blame him for that horseshit. Any prose I write couldn't hope to be so full of fanciful whim as my resume, but should give you all a good daily derisive chortle with your co-workers.
Eat it, bitches.

Post-Destination

Bear with me, I just need to cough up some e-bile:

Right now I'm trying to decide where I want to live, which has brought up a whole host of reflections that I (somehow) feel the need to parse through. The old saying goes: "You can never go home again". I'd assert that you were never there in the first place.
I'm getting ready to head back there for a few weeks - Hell, I could viably stay until March and few people out here in DC would notice (or care). The thing that kills me is that when I'm back home I still feel on edge. There are wide array of good reasons why I left Illinois all those years ago, and doing so has worked out for the best. Now I truly enjoy going back to IL; as soon as I get back I feel back in my element (unfortunately, my element seems to be #84), yet I still feel out of sorts back in my old stomping grounds.
I think my problem is that I crave anonymity, but find myself in places where I'm well known - That's my own damned fault. I just wish I could go into any bar without random strangers coming up to me to parse politics, or attempt to avenge some half-remembered past indiscretion. Fuck 'em - they always lose, but still, it's getting real fucking old. If I had half of a working brain I'd just go to a new city and lie my ass off like everyone else does. Create a completely new identity and back-story. Problem is, I've lived a life that's more interesting than any plausible story that I could ever fabricate, and I'm not the type to downplay anything.
Back in the day, I'd always say that the worst thing that could ever happen to a person was to become a caricature of themselves. Sometimes I worry that I've crossed that line, and sometimes I think that I should just go further. If everyone seems to think they know who I am, I should give 'em the whole grit your teeth - shit your pants - pray to Christ experience. I'm in the driver's seat and Bourbon is my co-pilot, so any motherfuckers around should just strap down, shut up, and get bulletproof real quick. That's one way to do it.
I may end up coming back to IL for the long-haul sometime this Spring. I fucking hate DC like poor kids hate ketchup-soup and hungry rats. It's always seemed like the expansion-trailer classroom in the schoolyard of America - shoddy, filthy, uncomfortable, and one stiff wind away from going ass-over-tits. I want out of this shithole like unwanted kittens want outta wet burlap, but where to go; Home, or another city that I'll grow to loathe? For once, I don't have the answer.
Well, (in summation) either I'm fucked regardless, or just typing drunk again. Your call is as good as mine.

WOOT OFF!!!

That's right, Woot-Off, motherfuckers!
Check it out HERE.

Homecoming In Your Eye

I'm planning on leaving for Illinois on Friday (probability = 25%), or Monday (probability = 70%), or sometime in between (probability = 5%). Regardless, I'll be back for the Monday night Bears game, so if anyone wants to get together and rip on Matt Bulger's fat fucking whore of a wife over a load of beers...
I'm packed up and ready to rock. I've just got a few last hoops to jump through, then I'm free to go. I've even got the kick-ass Rogue’s Gallery CDs cued up in the Jeep for the drive out (thanx auftn & jeanz), hopefully they'll serve me better than they did during the Virginia dirge.

Now it's time for you blog monkeys to make with the fun - I should be back until the 28th or so. Let me know of any events of interest transpiring within that time frame.
Here I come - Rock me like a hurricane.

Change for a Quarterback?

Woo-Hoo - The Bears clinched the NFC North last Sunday, and are pretty much a lock for home-field throughout the playoffs. I should be happy, but I can't get over the fact that they're playing with a heap of cursed frogurt behind center. When Rex is "on", the Bears are invincible; when he's "off", they have to rely on their defense and special-teams to put up the winning scores. The Bears are a great team despite the QB situation, and historically have been. Fuck, last year we won 9 straight with Orton at the helm, but our luck is running out. The few peeks at how dominate the team was when Rex was "on" had all of us licking our chops, but if he can't keep it up we need to find someone who can. When Grossman is suffering he does the team much more harm than good - At times, we'd be better off pulling the QB entirely and throwing in another run-blocker. That's not good.
Bottom line: The Bears are gonna have one hell of a time making it out of the playoffs if Grossman isn't playing at the top of his game.

Don't get me wrong, I don't think that switching from Grossman to Greaseman is the solution to all of the Bears' woes. Griese is only marginally more reliable, and I don't see him being a viable option 5 years down the road. Stick with Rex until he throws 18 consecutive interceptions in the NFC title game, then ride him out on the nearest rail. What they need to do is dust off the team AmEx card and secure some real QB talent in the off-season. I'm thinking that Jake Plummer is what Drew Brees was last off-season - a greatly underrated quarterback that we could easily secure in a bloodless bidding war. Oh, and while the card is out, bring back the goddamn Honeybears - we haven't won shit without 'em.
...

Oh, and to answer Ed's query: I remember Husker Du, but I probably wouldn't if they had John Talley (Trotsky Icepick) behind the microphone. Get my drift?
Yeah, I know that's not what you were implying, but still...

Go Skins!

I'm rockin' out at FedEx Field (not related to KFed). We're hoping like hell that Campbell steps up and that Romo and E Manning get career-ending injuries.

Also, Bears can clinch today with a win and a Packer loss. Text me when that happens.

Damn, these lines for the port-o-lets are fucking long.

- Sent From Blackberry Handheld -

Gotta Love Global Warming

It's December, and it's 74 freaking degrees outside right now here in
DC. Nice.

- Sent From Blackberry Handheld -

Danger Chicagoland; Danger, Danger, Danger!

Okay kids, here's the deal:
I'm still in limbo about what to do with the rest of my fucking life, but the field is narrowing. It looks like the travel thing is out, due to the fact that I'm broke as a joke. The job field in DC isn't really yielding much, but I have a bunch of folks out scouting for me. I did get offered a job in the State Department, but I really don't want to work in the administration at this point, and the hours in a job like that will kill you. Meh. I'm in no big hurry; I'll still be drawing a paycheck throughout February, and I renegotiated my lease up to April 1. Therefore, I'm holding off on making a final decision until late January.
I've decided to start shopping out my resume in the Chicago metropolitan region, and am planning on coming back for a long stretch to do so. I may be back as soon as next week, all I'm waiting for here now is my holiday bonus (if I'm even getting one) and for Cabelas to ship my ammo for the SOCOM and the M16 (no, seriously).
I'll post up the details as soon as I get 'em.

Favorite News Clipping of the Day:

Fleeing Man Takes Crack Break - Connecticut Post Online

"...Quinton abandoned a stolen car he had been driving near the P.T. Barnum public housing complex in Bridgeport, according to police.

Police said he scaled a fence near Captain's Cove Seaport and smoked crack cocaine before he ran through the seaport and stood on a boat.

He smoked more crack before officers pulled him down from the boat by his coat and arrested him, police said..."

My favorite part of the article? The P.T. Barnum mother-fucking public housing complex! How great is that? I guess that if there's one born every minute you've got to build a place to keep 'em.

In the next entry there's mention of an group of armed robery/prostitution arrests up in the PTBPHC. Apparently, that's the place to be when you're in Bridgeport.

Photocolonial

I just finished uploading four and a half pages of photos of my trip to the deepest darkest regions of colonial-themed Virginia up to my Flickr page. I weeded through several hundred pictures and culled the juiciest morsels for your optical absorption. In all honesty, there's probably too many pictures of various shit shot against the sky, but it was either that or a plethora of ground-level pics besieged with throngs of rotund tourists.
I made sure to keep my lens up, 'cuz I know that's the way you like it. You're dirty like that.

Virginia is for Virginians

We started off the day with an exploratory trip around the neighborhood where I got a bunch of kick-ass pictures of the local scenery.
The rest of the day has been chock full of football, booze, and loads 'o' food.
Full... so full.

Hell Trip

It's approximately 170 miles from DC to Williamsburg. Yoohoo Maps approximated our total travel time at just under 3 hours. Yoohoo Maps are a bunch of filthy lying sons of whores.
It took us SEVEN fucking hours to get here due to the obscene holiday travel rush. After 4 hours on the road, I looked down at the odometer and realized that we had only gone 54 miles - I then spent the next 15 minutes screaming at the top of my lungs about averaging 13.5 miles per hour while punching wildly at the roof and swearing. Fuck that.
The last 100 miles were relatively smooth, but the first 70 were pure hell. Come Saturday, we're waiting until 11PM to leave in hopes of missing the rush back North.

(I'm Havin' a) Colonial Thanksgiving

The Girls parents just bought a house down in Williamsburg, Virginia, so we're heading down there over the holiday weekend. I have loaded up ye olde Es-Yu-Vee with beaver pelts that I hope to trade with the red Indians for some farmable land. I have also taken great measure over the last fortnight to hone my butter-churning and candle-making skillz to better blend in with the white settlers down there once we are established.
Just like our pilgrim forefathers I will be participating in the most rudimentary form of communication since the advent of movable type, I am (of course) referring to mobileblogging, gentle reader. I will also be equipped with my portrait box, and hope to post onto the Flickr extensive documentation of my travels. Above all, I'm anxiously looking forward to hunting the ferocious ocean bear (commonly known as 'porpoise') with my olde tyme AK-47 model firestick. I just pray that The Girl's mother knows how to prepare this delicious beast for our holiday feast.

Yours in Christ,
Ye Lyar ov DC

Rules That I Just Made Up #837

Anything that is said to a heckler should not be held against the heckelie*, as hecklers are subhuman and should be euthanized for the betterment of society. Additionally, if you spend the entire night goading a performer you are not entitled to be offended by anything he/she says once you get him/her to snap.

This rule will hereby be referred to as "Rickles' Law".
...

*Heckelie is a registered trademark of L&E (C)2006

L&E (Satanic) Public Service Announcement

:siht dnuof I nehw senizagam deriW dlo fo kcats a hguorht gnideew saw I
!nataS liaH - live rof ti esU

Extreme Blog Makeover Redux

After about 6 months of procrastinating, I took some time today and finally figured out how to fancy-up my lame-ass blog. Now it's faggoted-up like a 12 year old goth girl's MySpace page 'cuz I's got mad skillz with the HTML. I even updated my icon - Here it is full size:

Sweet, huh? I know you all are super-jealous.
...

What the Hell is it?
The background is a close-up of the (very dusty) seat on my Vespa 50 Special, and the header is a photo of a L&E stencil I put together (which turned out cooler than the photo of the actual stenciling) with the tagline photoshopped in.

Peculiar Pussy Pix

There was a thread on Boing Boing last week devoted to captioned cat pics; I've been laughing my ass off for a week straight. It's definitely hit-or-miss, but there's some seriously funny shit up in these links.
Boing Boing Post
Collection 1
Collection 2 (some overlap w/1)

My favorite? 'Heil!' (look for it).

A (Filthy, Filthy) Bill

I was sorting through a bunch of old files today, and rediscovered my favorite piece of legislation that has come across my desk in my 6 years working out here in DC.
I present H.R. 3687:

A BILL

To amend section 1464 of title 18, United States Code, to provide for the punishment of certain profane broadcasts, and for other purposes.

Be it enacted by the Senate and House of Representatives of the United States of America in Congress assembled, That section 1464 of title 18, United States Code, is amended--

(1) by inserting `(a)' before `Whoever'; and

(2) by adding at the end the following:

`(b) As used in this section, the term `profane', used with respect to language, includes the words `shit', `piss', `fuck', `cunt', `asshole', and the phrases `cock sucker', `mother fucker', and `ass hole', compound use (including hyphenated compounds) of such words and phrases with each other or with other words or phrases, and other grammatical forms of such words and phrases (including verb, adjective, gerund, participle, and infinitive forms).'.

Hear That Sound? It's the Shit Hitting the Fan.

I learned a couple of weeks ago that the firm I work for will be dissolving at the end of the year and is being reformed as a smaller firm under a different name. I learned yesterday that I'm not going to be a part of that smaller firm. This sucks - Hard.
The lease on my house comes to an end on January 1, so I have about a month to figure out what the hell I'm doing.
Here are my choices:
1) Find another job out here in DC
This might be tricky since everyfuckingbody is looking for new jobs right now, and moderate (pro-gay, pro-choice, small government) Republicans are not at the top of anyone's hiring list.
2) Find another job somewhere else
This is a lot easier, and is along the lines of what I'd like to do (work with a trade organization/corporation). The kicker is that the type of jobs I'd be interested in taking would likely force me to live in one of my two most-hated cities - LA or NYC.
3) Move back to IL and look for a job from there
This works, and I have an empty house waiting for me, but it just seems like a bitch maneuver to me. I've wanted to move back to IL for awhile, but on MY terms.
4) Throw all of my shit into storage and take off on a trip around the world
Mexico, Cuba, Panama, Peru, Brazil, Argentina, Chile, Antarctica, South Africa, Madagascar, India, Thailand, Malaysia, Australia, New Zealand, Fiji, Philippines, China, South Korea, Japan, Russia, Finland, Sweden, Norway, Iceland, Ireland, UK, France, Germany, Poland, Austria, Romania, Turkey, Egypt, Greece, Italy, Algeria, Morocco, Spain - That's my road-map so far. I'm about to throw down and just do it while I'm still young (and stupid) enough to try it.

Well, that's it. I have no fucking idea what I'm gonna do, but I have about a month to sort it all out. Place your bets.

Notice of Intent to Post

This last week I've had plenty to say, but am waiting to see how things shake out (over several fronts) before I start torching bridges. I'm keeping my yap shut (for a change) until then.
Maybe I'll throw out some fun (read: asinine) crap up here in the next couple of days just to keep the eLights on here at L&E. I promise... Maybe.

Go Bears!

I, For One, Welcome Our New Democratic Overlords

I look forward to toiling in your sugar mines.

Erection Day

I know, it's a cheap joke, so I figured that it deserved an equally cheap post. I was gonna do a cheap 'Asian Arert!' clip here, but decided to go even cheaper with an Amazon search result instead.
I present the (semi)exhaustive list of song titles containing the term 'erection'.

The Liar's top 5:
5- Blephegor - Demonic Staccato Erection
4- Bitter Tongues - I Don't Miss You, I Miss My Erection
3- Burning Brides - Overhead Metal Erection
2- John F. Kennedy (Spoken) - Erection of the Berlin Wall
1- Les Barker - Dachshunds With Erections Can't Climb Stairs

Photornado

I just trudged through the whirlwind of several hundred unsorted pics from Chicago, the other bits of IL, and DC from the last month. I ended up grabbing 32 of my favorites to post up on my Flickr page for your casual perusal. Enjoy.

The Definitive Drinky Joe

I've just finished loading all of the Drinky Joe goodness up onto Flickr. We're talking over 300 pictures of couch crashing good times spanning almost 2 years. Get yourselves some.

Holding My Tongue

I've been holding back the mother-of-all-rants for the past few weeks. Maybe you'll get it next week, maybe you won't, but you won't see it any sooner than that. Accordingly, I've been letting L&E air out for awhile. I've updated the links on the side menu, and have been working on the new Drinky Joe Flickr (pro) page. His MS Spaces page has mysteriously disappeared into the interwebs, but I hope to get ALL of the DJ photos up onto the Flickr page sometime this weekend - watch for it.

Last Call

I just finished up the last batch of the Summer '06 WILT CDs. There are still a few of you blog monkeys that I haven't heard from, so If you want a copy let me know and I'll mail one on out to ya. Also, if you got a defect or if your copy hasn't shown up yet (Di?) I'd be more than happy to shoot out a replacement.
I've got about a dozen left, so this is your last chance to rock out (but please leave your cock within the confines of your undergarments).

Interesting(Not So Much If You're Not A Cubs Fan)

Detroit Tigers World Series Results

Year Opponent Result 2006 St. Louis Cardinals L, 4-1 1984 San Diego Padres W, 4-1 1968 St. Louis Cardinals W, 4-3 1945 Chicago Cubs W, 4-3 1940 Cincinnati Reds L, 4-3 1935 Chicago Cubs W, 4-2 1934 St. Louis Cardinals L, 4-3 1909 Pittsburgh Pirates L, 4-3 1908 Chicago Cubs L, 4-1 1907 Chicago Cubs L, 4-0

The Truth

Today Salon.com posted an EXCELLENT interview with Camille Paglia. I've always liked her writings, and have always found her very insightful, but it's been awhile since I've read anything that has been so dead-on. She nails the Foley scandal, the war in Iraq, and the current direction of the Democratic party. It really is incredible, check it out if you can.
...

Update: To read the full article without a Slate subscription click the link and watch a 10 second add for full access. It's totally worth it.

Vidiot - Sports Edition

Just a couple of things that I ran across on the internets:

The problem with the Washington Redskins - LINK

If I hear this fucking song one more time I'm gonna start shootin', although I do like this video a lot better. - LINK

All Hail The Queenie!

Ms. K(i)M just launched her new blog, and it's chock full of horsey goodness.
Here, I would go into her blog saga, but I'm under the impression that I should refrain from flogging that dead horse. I've decided to reign myself in, get down off of my high horse, and not turn the whole fiasco into a dog and pony show. The important thing is that she's back and we shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth, and definitely not engage in neigh-saying. This dark horse is looking strong out of the gate, and promises to be short on any horse play.

If anyone is still reading, I'm truly sorry for the barrage of bad equine references. "Where the hell are my horseshoes?!" is poised to rock out some truth, and that's straight from the horse's mouth.

Again, sorry.

Half-A-Rant

Every single year in the off-season a handful of football analysts pick the Arizona Cardinals and Detroit Lions to be the dark-horse teams in the NFL. Every year by mid-season those teams are at the very bottom of the standings.
I think it's time to write in stone that those teams WILL ALWAYS SUCK - period - end.
Don't delude yourselves; even if one of those teams managed to sign Jesus Christ to a 10 year contract they would still be struggling to keep ahead of the Houston Texans in the rankings. Thinking otherwise is just stupid.

A Little of Everything and a Lot of Nothing

The Girl's parents were in town this weekend, so we had a lot of "family time" - not bad. Here are the things I did between scamming free meals from her family:

Films:
About Last Night
I Tivoed this a few months back on a whim after I read that this film was an adaptation of the David Mamet play 'Sexual Perversity in Chicago'. I love Mamet's writing, so I figured that I'd give it a shot.
Turns out, I'd seen the movie a looooong time ago, and have since (apparently) subconsciously modeled every relationship I've had on that one (except I tend to date the bitchy roommate type). There's something terribly disconcerting in realizing that your entire romantic history could relate directly to a cheesy 80's movie scripted by Mamet, and starring the likes of Rob Lowe and Jim Belushi.
Well, I'm sure it's just a coincidence.
No, huh?
Dammit.
Dogville
I really like the films of Lars von Trier, but I had some serious reservations about this one. Everyone I had talked to had either LOVED it or HATED it, plus a bunch of anti-american labels had been slapped on this picture by various critics. I Tivoed it and let it sit for a few months before I took the plunge.
Saturday night I had fallen asleep on the couch while watching the World Series, and I woke up a few hours later at 4AM. As you all know, there isn't shit on at 4AM Sunday morning, therefore it was a perfect time to watch a 3 hour long indie-pic staged like a play on a minimal set. Woo-hoo!
At first the bare-bones set was distracting, but after a few scenes, it seemed natural. It was like watching an excellently staged play that I could pause (Hey, everyone stop! I've got to pee again. Thanks).
This was an absolutely incredible movie. See it if you get the chance.
If you don't get a chance to see it, you should, at least, remember the lesson of the story; Poor people are scum, and should be eradicated at all costs (I think that was the moral).

Bicycle:
I finished putting together my new bike, and took it out on the town for the first time this weekend.
The thing with DC is, if you purchase a bicycle it will get stolen if you lock it to anything for longer than 7 minutes. After furnishing half of the degenerates in the DC metro region with sweet-ass retro cruiser bikes, I promised myself that I wouldn't buy another bicycle as long as I lived in this shithole.
Well, I saw a special on Ben's Bargains for a beach-cruiser that cost $80 shipped. I went for it. It was a breeze to assemble, and the biggest chore was stripping off all of the gay-ass decals that it was plastered with. Now, I'm cruising in style (until some hood-rat swipes this one).

Best Buy CD Hunt:
I've become spoiled with the abundant availability of diverse music over the internets (see: the long tail theory).
We stopped by the Best Buy in Wheaton on the way to meet up with The Girl's family up in Olney, MD. I had a list of 7 CDs and 1 DVD that I wanted to pick up, they had (drumroll) none of the items I was looking for. Here's what I wanted:
1) The Proposition DVD
2) Childish Things - James McMurtry
3) Ege Bamyasi - Can
4) The Avalanche: Outtakes & Extras from the Illinois Album - Sufjan Stevens
5) Complete MGM Recordings - Lee Hazlewood
6) All Things to All People - Carpark North
7) The Internationale/Live and Dubious - Billy Bragg
8) Love Their Country - Me First and the Gimme Gimmes
Okay, I realize that that's a pretty eclectic list, but most of those are considered "mainstream" releases. I expected BB to have, at least, one of those. In fact, they only had a designated space for two of those artists on the shelves (Sufjan Stevens & Me First and the Gimme Gimmes).
Bah.

Sports:
World Series - I realized this weekend that I just don't give a shit.
I do, however, think that Ronnie Belliard looks like a retarded kid on a swing set every time he goes up to bat and that Scott Spiezio's chin looks like a stripper's crotch, so I guess that I'm pulling for D-Town just so those jokers won't win. Bunch 'o' Pujols.
Football - My heart is still racing from last Monday's Bears game, so everything this week was anticlimactic. The highlight of the day was definitely watching Joe's face as the Bucs nailed the 63 yard field goal to defeat his beloved Eagles.
The Redskins' season is DEAD. Even as tight as the NFC East division is shaping up to be, there is no fucking way the Skins can clench a playoff spot with their upcoming schedule. On the plus side; from here on out, I should be able to get as many free tickets as I want to see Jason Campbell blossom as an NFL quarterback. Gotta love those fair weather fans.

I have a few more things that I was gonna throw on here, but (for the sake of brevity) I've decided to do separate posts on blog updates, my new MP3 player, and a couple of announcements. Look for 'em later this week.

Meditations on Chicago Baseball - Part II

Well, it only took me two months in getting around to doing this stupid fucking post. Here it is; Lucky you.
Cubs
I grew up a Cubbies fan. Some of my fondest childhood memories are of getting to cut school to go out to Wrigley with the parents for afternoon games in the crisp Chicago springtime. I remember the legendary (read: infamous) '84 run, and the crushing disappointment of defeat (to the fucking Padres, nonetheless). And I'll always remember my grandfather's words to me on that night: "Sometimes baseball is a lot like life; unfair... Fucking Cubs."
Amen.

As time went on, I lost faith. I became a cubgnostic. I focused all of my attention on bands, beer, and boobies rather than batters, base-running, and box scores.
I remember fucking HATING the Cubs. I'm pretty sure that it came from trying to find parking for a show at the Metro an the same day as a game (this happened often). Priorities had shifted, and I was firmly on the other side of the fence. I'd get into fights with the legions of drunk frat boys stumbling out of the Wrigleyville bars, I'd push through the herds of Cubs fans clogging the Clark street sidewalks, and I'd piss all over the outside of Wrigley Field any chance I got.

As time passed (and teen-angst subsided) I somehow found my way back into the ivy. I started getting back into the Bears when I was in my late teens, but I kept holding a grudge against the Cubs for much longer. It wasn't until I moved away from Chicago that I began to appreciate the team once again. Maybe it was hometown pride, but I really think it's more.
Honestly, I'm not quite sure how it happened. I just remember going with a friend to Wrigley (I'm not sure why) one crisp spring afternoon in 2000 while I was back visiting, and feeling a wave of tranquility pass over me. I was home, and all was forgiven. Wrigley baseball was just too perfect to hate. It didn't even bother me when the Chubbies lost, because that's what they do.

I begun to appreciate Wrigley even more after attending games out here on the East Coast. The stadiums seemed garish and full of unwanted distractions. It seemed like they were trying to sell the idea of baseball rather than the game itself. It was meretricious crap for ADD kids, nothing more. Say what you will about the Cubs, but if you go to Wrigley you'll see baseball in it's purest form. At Wrigley, the game you'll see is pretty-fucking-close to what you would have seen back in 1916, and that's saying something.

Crackpot theory* time:
I've begun to think of being a Cubs fan much like being a modern Catholic. Amongst all of the failures, embarrassment, and a complete lack of evidence on our behalf; we keep the faith. The circle (C), which should be a badge of shame, is worn with pride. It's the scarlet A of baseball (and no, not the Angels logo, you ass). Fuck, the Cubs finished dead-fucking-last in the National League, but lately I've seen more Cubs gear being worn around Washington DC than Tigers, Cardinals, and White Sox items combined. I don't understand it, but I can't help but love it. It's just good to know that there are other totally shameless retards out there.
I still believe. That unquestioning belief has caused many bad days, and got me a busted TV screen during the 2003 NCLS series, but I do believe.

Okay, there are several things that royally piss me off about the team. I really hate how the Cubs have become the new "Red Sox" for every single baseball masochist still out there. All this cheesy hokum surrounding around the team would even make Peter Angelos blush. I watched that recent HBO special on the Cubs and barely escaped without going into diabetic shock.
Granted, most of the fans are unsufferable drunken douches, but that's no different from any other sports team. Cubs fans just have a (much) shorter walk from the bar to the ballpark.
The biggest complaint I have is the Cubbies' penchant for throwing good money after bad. After 98 years of drought, you'd think they'd learn a lesson. I was convinced that Joe Girardi would be the perfect guy to come in and trim the fat. Tabula rasa - salt the earth - burn it down and rebuild. Instead, we got Louie P and rumors of A-Rod. We're fucked.
At this rate, it looks like "next year" wont come until the Fall of '58. I'll be eighty-three years old, and up in the stands when it happens. Mark** my words.
...

*as opposed to "crackpipe theory" time, which is a registered trademark of the Chicago White Sox Fan Club
** not Prior

Tivolution

Mr. ChrisB sent out an ePissy e-mail checking on what everyone was watching on their picto-tubes. Since my brain defect prevents me from shooting off a simple list like a normal (not OCD) person, I sent out a freaking link-ridden overly-descriptive mess out to everyone. It works fine as a blog entry, though. So, here you are.
...
Here are the shows that I have set up in my Tivo 'season pass':

Heroes
This show rocks - period. It's a total X-Men rip-off, but (so far) it's way-better than any of the X-Movies.

Dexter
It's like HBO had a fire-sale on character actors and Showtime went nuts. Dexter features one actor from Six Feet Under, one actor from Sex & the City, one actor from The Sopranos, and four from OZ.
It's only a couple of episodes in, but this series has true promise. It's about a blood-spatter specialist who serial-kills serial killers. Wow, the premise just collapsed into itself. It sounds kinda gay, but is actually really good.

My Name is Earl
White-trash zen makes for some great television. For my money, the best cast on TV.

Venture Brothers
Superb - I can't get enough of this show. Plus HUGE props go out to J.G.Thirlwell for the best soundtrack in the history of television.

Metalocalypse
METALOCALYPSE FUCKIN RULZ!!! *banging head furiously*

12 oz. Mouse
Once again, this is either the best show ever to be aired or the worst. I'm still not sure, but I can't stop watching.

Most of the shows above have free downloadable episodes on their websites, or extended clips. Check 'em out. If nothing else, click on the 12 oz. Mouse link for a hard-ripping guitar solo (I think that that was an entire episode, if I'm not mistaken).

I also have been watching Studio 60, The Office, and most of the Adult Swim lineup, but they haven't made the Tivo cut yet. I also gave Jericho a shot because it's pretty hard to fuck-up a post-apocalyptic storyline - They managed it.
That's about it. Well, except for football... Go Bears!

Fuck United (Yet Again)

It's a nice clear day in Chicago, yet my flight is delayed - again. I'm
out on the tarmac sitting like a sucker. Would it kill 'em to delay it
at the gate (where there's beer)?
I just don't fucking get it.

- Sent From Blackberry Handheld -

Go Bears!

Fuck Matt Leinart and his fat fucking whore of a wife.
...
I guess you had to be there.

- Sent From Blackberry Handheld -

ePissy Service Announcement

Annex - Tonight - 10PM - Be there.

- Sent From Blackberry Handheld -

Fuck United (Again)

I'm flying on United Airlines to O'Hare so (of course) my plane is delayed. This means that I'm out on the tarmac stuck in my seat for at least another hour before we even take off. Fuck! I meant to book this flight on American, but opted for the earlier time.
I really should have taken the 2PM AA flight, it most likely will get there way before the 10:45AM United flight. Just out of curiosity, has anyone EVER had a flight into O'Hare on United that wasn't delayed?
Fucking suck-asses.

- Sent From Blackberry Handheld -

Meditations on New York Baseball

Getting knocked out of the playoffs by the D-Town Tiggers does not justify flying your plane into a building.


The plane that smashed into a Manhattan skyrise earlier today was piloted by Cory Lidle (the pitcher that lost Saturday's game to eliminate the Yanks).
Talk about a sore loser. This is yet another example of a Yankee player crashing and burning in the post-season.

One Week From Today...

I'll be back in Illinois for a few days. My schedule is fairly tight, but I will have some free time.

Make a note of it.

What I'm Listening To - Fall 2006

It's now been a full year since the first seasonal compilation CD went out. Since then I've burned 200+ CDRs and almost as many bridges. It's been a weird year, for sure.
Well, it's time to start anew. I figured that the new series deserved a new layout, but I'm keeping the blog liner notes (even though I really don't think anyone reads these damn things).
Onto the CD itself - This one was probably the easiest of the 5 (so far) to throw together, because by the time I started it I knew EXACTLY what tracks I wanted on this thing. There were a few switches/omissions, but those were done mostly to ease the transitions (hey, I'm rhyming!). This disc is SOLID there isn't one song on here that I'm not crazy about. This fucker flows like a river and has more hooks than a slaughter-house. Don't believe me? Just listen to it. Bitch.

Liner Notes:
1) Billy Bragg - A New England
from the 1983 album Life's a Riot
They call Billy Bragg "the one-man Clash". I assume that's because he released a couple of incredible records and then spent the rest of his career crapping out self-indulgent dreck.
This one's off of his first record. It's just him singing and playing a crappy electric guitar. It doesn't get any more simple than this - it also doesn't get any better.
2) Bad Astronaut - 500 Miles
from the 2001 album Acrophobe
I have nothing but great things to say about this band. I've wanted to throw this track on the last few mixes, but haven't been able to find a good place for it... until now.
3) Screeching Weasel - Message in a Beer Bottle
from the 2000 album Teen Punks In Heat
Straight-forward 4/4 rocking goodness off of the final SW album. I've got a message for all of you...
4) Against Me! - Sink, Florida, Sink (Electric)
from the 2004 compilation Rock Against Bush vol. 1
My sentiments exactly.
The fourth song (in a row) that clocks in at under 2:15. It's the old 1-2-3-4 punch. The more stuff I hear from this band, the more I like 'em. This one is an alternate version of one of their earlier tracks.
5) Bad Religion - Los Angeles is Burning
from the 2004 album The Empire Strikes First
...and it could be with a nice southerly wind.
With the Day Fire turning the 'Golden State' into the 'Charred-Ash State' this song was a gimme. This follows the AM! track in my "places I want to go away" series. This catchy-as-hell song is off of BR's newest album.
6) Murder City Devils - Fields of Fire
from the 2000 album In Name and Blood
I'm still bummed-out that these guys aren't around anymore. This track is the last song off of their last studio LP, and it bridges the Bad Religion and Johnny Cash tracks perfectly. How many bands could say that?
7) Johnny Cash - God's Gonna Cut You Down
from the 2006 album American V - A Hundred Highways
This is the second song off of the new American 5 record. Word is, Cash has a few more posthumous albums in post-production - He spent his last year on Earth in the studio. If this track is any indication, the best work of his career may still be forthcoming
8) Turbonegro - All My Friends Are Dead
from the 2005 album Party Animals
...because God cut 'em down.
This track is fresh off of the latest Turbonegro release, which (apparently) still hasn't been released in the US. At first I hated this record, and wrote a smarmy blog entry about it. The more I listen to it, the more I love it. I hereby rescind my earlier statements - my bad.
9) Ramones - You're Gonna Kill That Girl
from the 1976 album Leave Home
Quick, someone warn Marlo Thomas!
This track is off of one of the greatest albums of all time. If you haven't picked up the Rhino re-issue of this record yet, please do so now (I'll wait). I grabbed this superb track 'cause of its Halloween vibe, plus if I hear (or have to spell) "Pet Sematary" one more time, I'm gonna projectile vomit.
10) Methadones - Ugly Things About You
from the 2002 compilation 1157 Wheeler Avenue
The Methadones just released a superb cover album of 1970's-1980's power-pop hits. I was about to throw one of those tracks on here, but decided (instead) to rescue this unreleased gem from benefit-album obscurity. There'll be plenty of other comps on which those covers will find a home - I promise.
11) Chixdiggit! - I Remember You
from the 2005 album Pink Razors
I swear that I put this freaking song on another mix CD. I went through all of the comps I've made since this album came out - nothing. I probably just missed it, but I really don't care. I could justify putting this track on three more mixes. Don't test me.
12) Valerie Hohn - Lucie est Amoureuse
from the 2004 soundtrack to Shimotsuma Monogatari
Um... Uh... Well, this is a track from a Japanese film sung in French. Blame The Girl - She tracked down a copy of the Kamikaze Girls (Shimotsuma Monogatari) Soundtrack from Japan, and it has been in HEAVY rotation ever since its arrival. I can guarantee that several more tracks from this record will find their way onto forthcoming compilations.
13) Electric Six - Jimmy Carter
from the 2005 album Señor Smoke
If I were any more into this band right now I could taste 'em. Ewww.
I liked their debut album, but kind of thought of them as a one-off schtick band (here's your Rice-a-Roni, thanks for playing). Since seeing them play live and listening to their following 2 records, I've changed my tune - drastically. These guys are the real deal, and I had about 10 of their songs that I wanted to throw on this thing. I settled on this one because any song that can successfully tie together the themes of the Backstreet Boys, maid abuse, electric underwear, the death of Ronald Reagan, and Armageddon deserves to be heard.
14) Jesus and Mary Chain - Drop
from the 1989 album Automatic
I've always had a thing for this song. It stands as a melodic oasis amongst the barrage of sound which is 'Automatic'. This one song added greater dimension to the album. Crazy how that works, huh?
By the way, I'm still way into the Rhino Dual-Disc JAMC surround-sound releases. It's amazing how after listening to something countless times you can still be able to hear it differently, and find a whole new level of appreciation for the album(s).
15) Drag the River - So Long Hoss
from the 2004 EP Hey Buddies...
You all know how I feel about Drag the River - Best country band ever. Not just alt-country; Country - Period. Better than Uncle Tupelo, better than any Bloodshot act, and worlds beyond anything Nashville has shit out over the last few decades. Cash still tops my country pantheon, but (for all intents and purposes) he's a solo act. My only grievance is that the DTR boys have been so busy with this project that Jon hasn't gotten out an Armchair Martian album in awhile. Oh, well.
16) Willie Nelson - Pancho & Lefty
from the 1983 album Pancho & Lefty
What is it with The Man trying to take down the Red-Headed Stranger? Oh yeah; Drugs and taxes. Well, nevermind all that noise, because we love him all-the-more for it. Everyone who reads this should mosey on down to the ol' Amazon music page and wrangle up a couple of his CDs; The man has legal bills to pay, you know.
This song kept getting bumped from the last few mix CDs, but I finally found the perfect place for it. I'm glad I waited.
17) Folk Implosion - One Part Lullaby
from the 1999 album One Part Lullaby
Hey, two title tracks in a row. Now we're rollin'.
This is the song I wanted to stick on the Summer comp, but was talked out of it by The Girl. It's still my favorite track on the record, but is a much better fit here.
18) Tommy February6 - Where are You? "My Hero"
from the 2002 self-titled release Tommy February6
More crazy-ass J-Pop from Tokyo's answer to Avril Lavigne. If I'm listening to this one correctly, it's about her holdin' out for a hero who can protect her from her shadow which (apparently) is fucking terrifying. Um, yeah.
If this track isn't used in one of the Japanese segments on NBC's 'Heroes' I'll be seriously disappointed.
19) Nerf Herder - She‚’s a Sleestak
from the 2000 album How to Meet Girls
I'm not sure about shadows, but Sleestaks are pretty creepy.
Another great song from the herders of nerf. Seriously, I have a huge freakin' back-log of Nerf Herder/Parry Gripp songs looking to find their way onto mix CDs. I'm like the crazy cat lady, but with nerdy pop-punk tracks instead of felines.
20) Mclusky - Whoyouknow
from the 2002 album Mclusky Do Dallas
More full-forward rock from the band that changed the face of Steve Albini produced Scottish indie-rock. Get yourselves some.
21) Dillinger Four - Like Sprewells on a Wheelchair
from the 2004 compilation Rock Against Bush vol. 2
I Googled it so that you wouldn't have to: Sprewells are those fancy-ass spinning rim-jobbers that the ethnic kids love so much.
I'm really getting into this band again. I listened to them a lot back when I had the record store, but hadn't listened to them much since (until recently). Now I can't get enough. This track is an unreleased track from a budget compilation.
22) M.O.T.O. - Primeval
from the 2005 album Raw Power
I walk along through the primeval. 5 words, 3 chords, 1 solo.
That's it, yet those words will borough into your brain and spawn there like mighty earwigs. Good luck getting that out.
23) Misfits - Hybrid Moments
from the 1978 recording Static Age
Oooooo, that song's so spooky I can't believe I got it onto the mix without running away crying (3rd time's a charm).
Halloween without Misfits is like Kandy Korn without the Kandy, and everyone knows that just 'Korn' sucks - Hard.
24) Mike Johnson - A Message to Pretty
from the 1998 album I Feel Alright
Here it is; the last version (of 3) of A Message to Pretty you'll find on my compilations. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but the premise has kinda worn thin. I actually had a couple of additional covers, but decided to kill it with this one. For my money, this is the best version out there (including the original). This Mike Johnson cover of M2P is what got me interested in Love (with some help from EdP & the Old Dog).
For those of you not in the know, Mike Johnson replaced Lou Barlow in Dinosaur Jr and played with them from 1989 to 1997. After Dino Jr went tits-up, he came out with a series of excellent solo albums, unlike anything he had done with Dino Jr. Check 'em out if you can.
25) Jason Webley - Southern Cross
from the 2002 album Counterpoint
Just as Fall transitions into the cold still of Winter, this track serves the purpose of winding everything down and moving the compilation toward its inevitable end. It's a slow mournful dirge, a perfect companion for sipping whiskey by the leaf-fire. Then again, any music is good for drinking whiskey by the leaf-fire. I still like this song anyway.
26) Black Heart Procession - Til We Have to Say Goodbye
from the 2000 album 3
I decided back in the Spring that this would be the perfect song to end the Fall '06 WILT CD. I stuck to it, and past me is a fucking genius. Hooray, 'past me'! I hate to end on a down-note, but that's just what Fall does. So there.

That's it, I'm done with those fucking liner notes. Sorry it took 3 days to finish this post, but what do you expect?
Everyone: We expect free shit!
Me: Oh, yeah. I forgot.
Everyone: Well, how do we get it?
Me: You know that.
Everyone: Huh?
Me: Dammit, you should know by now. Shoot an e-mail, with your full mailing info, to dclies(at)gmail.com, and I'll send one out to you. I'm only doing 50 of these, so hop to it.
Everyone: For free?
Me: For free.
Everyone: Free, free? what about shipping?
Me: Yes free; no strings attached.
Everyone: No strings attached? You don't want any money for expenses or anything?
Me: Nope.
Everyone: Nothing?
Me Nope.
Everyone: How about hot dirty sex?
Me: Um... We'll talk.
Everyone: We love you!
Me: And I love you too. *under breath* ... filthy peasants

Meditations on Chicago Baseball - Part I

White Sox
I need to lead off (hey, I'm using the jargon) with a note on how gracious and even-handed EdP was when I took him to Wrigley. He wrote a very nice post and was an all-around gentleman about the experience. I have to make it clear to everyone that Ed is a much better person than I, and as much as I appreciate his gratitude, if I were to only say nice things the post would end here.
Elise demanded that The Girl and I come out to see a Sox game while we were back in Illinois, so on August the 25th we headed out to the lost civilization known to locals as "Chicago's South-Side".
It was Friday, and as a preventative measure to miss "crush-hour" weekend traffic into the city, we left at 1PM. It didn't work. We were caught firmly in the grasp of the Hillside strangler - 290E was a fucking parking lot. We had been standing motionless in one spot for about 15 minutes before I realized that the mook on the billboard trying to sell me Brazilian meat was Ozzie G. We were stuck there in that one spot for 35 fucking minutes with the OG smiling down at us with his meat-sword firmly in hand.
We finally got through all of the 290 traffic, just in time to hit the LSD traffic going south. Fuck. It took us over 2 hours to get down to UofC (1 Hour & 15 minutes longer than it took for us to get to Wrigley the week before).
We had a couple of drinks with Elise and headed out to the park through the fabled "South-Side". For those of you not in the know, Chicago's south-side has all of the charm and grace of Mogadishu with the scenery of Eraserhead. Although, I did learn that all you need to turn a vacant lot into a tavern/open-air drug market is (apparently) 2 abandoned couches and a card-table. Go figure.
We found parking off Halstead and were promptly accosted by a local who was pissed-off that we were parking on his street. We placated him with a (local) pilfered parking pass and a tip of the Sox cap. He promised that he'd look after our car, shouted something about keeping Cubs fans out of the "hood", gave us a thumbs-up, and returned to the sofa on his front porch. He reminded me of an old confederate - the South-Side WILL rise again.
Anyway, we headed out toward the Cell meandering past a series of storefronts featuring plastic furniture, animal-print women's wear, ceramic animals, and FOR RENT signs. We continued on past several blocks of empty buildings, through dank concrete tunnels, around a bunch of overly-enthusiastic guys hocking self-screened t-shirts, and emerged at our destination: U.S. Cellular Field (USCF from here on out).

What can I say about The Cell? Well, it's a lot like paying $40 to go to a time-share presentation. That, or being stuck in a commercial loop. Man, do those fuckers love to sell shit. The ambiance of USCF is what I'm sure soviet propagandists imagined the US (as a whole) to be - One loud, blinding, garish assault of consumerism. At every available opportunity there was either a commercial, or some crappy song blaring through the PA system. Corporate logos illuminated the stands from the jumbotrons, and slogans circled the park in an unending loop of "go buy this". In the short time I was there I learned what car to drive, which bank to keep my money in, were I should get gas from, what company to get my long-distance from, which "exclusive issue" jersey I should be wearing, who's wieners were the plumpest, etc., etc., etc. Hell, I even got an insurance pamphlet from a what can only be described as an "ad-stripper", and got questioned by a survey poll-taker (a different kind of "pole-taker" than the stripper) while I was having a cigarette (at least a got a fake dollar outta that, which I promptly stuck in the fake-stripper's shorts).
The one thing that I knew that they were way off-base on (hey, using the jargon again) with their ad-blitz was that I should "Choose Miller", but choosing otherwise was a mother-fucking adventure.
Elise and The Girl were happy with their margaritas (margaritas at a fucking baseball game?!?), but I wanted a beer, dammit. I wandered off trying to find ANYTHING other than MGD or Lite. I must've walked 1/4 of the way around the stadium before I found a single tap of Sam Adams (meh.) - I kept walking. I found the line before I found the stand - a city block long for anything other than Miller or Sam. Fuck me. I learned (during my epic wait) that due to an exclusivity contract, there were only 2 stands at each end of the park that sold any variety of beers. I emerged from the half-hour line with 2 Old Styles, and finished the first one before I got back to my seat. The other one was gone shortly thereafter. Later, I ordered a MGD through clenched teeth - That one got warm before I finished it. That was the only sporting event I've ever paid for that I've left dead-sober. I guess that it all worked out for the best because the one attempt at using the Men's room resulted in a long-ass line, no troughs, and two pollacks getting into a fist fight three urinals over. Classy.

I almost forgot; Between all of the ads, the lines and the cigarette breaks, I'm pretty sure there was a baseball game, but I'm not 100% on that. If memory serves, the Sox lost to some team that was supposed to be contracted back in '01 - I think they were from Minnesota, maybe. Well, that's not important because right after the game came a HUGE fireworks display to the sounds of AC/DC, Guns & Roses, Europe, and any other butt-rock 80's band you can imagine. It was truly impressive and went on forever. By the end of that bombastic barrage, I had forgotten about everything earlier that night, and could only comprehend the prettiness of fireworks. I was so dumb-struck that I totally forgot to pick-up that $45 "limited edition" tie-dyed Sox cap outta the gift shop. Before I knew it we were out of the Cell and into the wall of panhandlers.

We had Shootin-Fest 'o6 the next day out in Plano, so we went straight home afterward, and had our responsibility rewarded with a shit-load of "lush-hour" traffic heading out of the city at the midnight. Just can't win.
While standing stationary on 290, I caught a glimpse in the rear-view mirror of the other side of a billboard - it was Ozzie G holding his meat and smirking at us as we crawled, defeated, toward home.
How appropriate.
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Post-script: I really did enjoy going out with Miss Elise* to the game, and it was something I really wanted to do once in my life (ONCE).
I'm not trying to be mean-spirited (okay, just a little), and the SS Sox will continue be my horse in the American League.
From now on, I'll just make sure to watch 'em at home where I can mute the commercials, and drink whatever beer I want (unfortunately, there still will be fights in the bathroom).

*who totally freaked out at the' Neverending Story' thing, God knows what she'll do when she reads this