Caption This Baby

A bit of yesterday's news: "An infant boy born with three arms will undergo surgery to remove one of them at Shanghai Children's Medical Center. Doctors will discuss the surgery plan tomorrow, but the date of surgery for the 59-day-old boy has not been set."

"Can somebody point me to that chick from Total Recall..."

Allright, there are Def Leppard jokes, there are Asian jokes, there's a-plenty...go get 'em, Slackers.

Slack Obit of the Day: Yesterday it was Gleason, today it's The Miz. May you feel that lucious felt in the sky and massé the shit out of it.

Slack Song of the Day: Guss over at Phish & Chips has been posting some great live music for a while now, so I figure I'd take advantage of the Pearl Jam tracks he's hosting. From the 5/17/06 show at the United Center, here's my favorite PJ tune, Glorified G.

As an added bonus, enjoy Alive and Once.

Bravo's Shitty List? THAT'S Comedy

Do you consider Sister Act an all-around funnier movie than Waiting for Guffman, or the entire Police Academy series to be more hilarious than Three Amigos? Do you believe Shrek is the third funniest movie ever created? Do you or do you not agree that Fletch and Coming to America are extremely overrated and don't rank within the top 100 greatest comedies ever made?

If you said "Yes, I'm a feckin' douchesack" to any or all of those questions, then this list's for you: Bravo's 100 Funniest Movies.

Seriously, why even perform the charade of producing a two-part show with tons of stars riffing on the funniest movies ever made in the manner of Michael Ian Black and Hal Whateverhisnameis if Fletch isn't on the list? Why even bother when The Wedding Singer breaks the top 10 but Tommy Boy can't sell his way onto the top 100? At one point I had to give myself a bit of the ol' "Serenity Now" to keep from breaking my roommate's fantastic main-room teevee.

I understand the inherent problem with lists like these: subjectivity. But no matter if you're the least objective person on this planet, Anchorman is funnier that Mrs. Doubtfire. It just is. And I'm a Robin Williams fan. Personal biases aside, School of Rock is on that list, and The 40 Year Old Virgin does not contain more hysterics per minute than Trading Places. That list is fucked.

So without any more introduction, I present to you the official, admittedly subjective Slack LaLane Top 50 (I apparently only half have the patience and/or intestinal fortitude of whomever made that Bravo list). I've never made one of those obligatory 100 Things About Me blogger posts, but this should help you get to know me better than that post ever could. Enjoy, and feel free to agree with hugs or disagree with...either way, let's hear it:

50. The Princess Bride
49. Flirting With Disaster
48. There's Something About Mary
47. Half-Baked
46. Soapdish
45. Old School
44. Dave
43. The Birdcage
42. Kingpin
41. A Fish Called Wanda
40. Dumb and Dumber
39. Wayne's World
38. Monty Python & The Holy Grail
37. Anchorman
36. Mallrats
35. Beverly Hills Cop
34. Tommy Boy
33. School of Rock
32. Revenge of the Nerds
31. National Lampoon's Vacation
30. Austin Powers (the first one)
29. Best in Show
28. Three Amigos
27. Blazing Saddles
26. Trading Places
T25. Happy Gilmore
T24. Billy Madison
23. This Is Spinal Tap
22. Meet the Parents
21. Nothing to Lose (seriously)
20. Coming to America
19. Office Space
18. Groundhog Day
17. Animal House
16. Arthur
15. The Nutty Professor (Eddie Murphy version)
14. The Jerk
13. Ace Ventura: Pet Detective
12. Airplane!
11. Rushmore
10. Wet Hot American Summer
9. Super Troopers
8. Dazed and Confused
7. South Park: Bigger, Longer & Uncut
6. Naked Gun: Files from the Police Squad!
5. Caddyshack
4. Fletch
3. Bottle Rocket
2. The Big Lebowski
1. Waiting for Guffman

(Honorable mention: Fargo, Dirty Work, The Ref, Christmas Vacation, Fast Times, Clerks, City Slickers, Clueless, Zoolander, and if American Psycho were a true comedy, it'd surely make the list)

I find some faults in my own list. For starters, it's very contemporary, shorter on classics than the average and somehow completely devoid of Woody Allen. I apologize to that man. Also, movies I like better as a whole are ranked lower than their purely comedic counterparts -- for example, of Eddie Murphy's entire catalogue, I think Coming to America and Trading Places are the better flicks, but I've never laughed harder in my life than the first time I saw the dinner scenes of The Nutty Professor. Hence, funnier, and higher on the Slack List.

The beauty of lists like these are how frequently we change our own choices, and how differently we view what we see. So, if we're ever to have an interactive post, now's the time. Weigh in with your thoughts and maybe a Top 10...

iD1G1T Again?

From the looks of it, I think everybody's favorite illegal streaming site iD1G1T is actually back, operating under a new name. Check it.

(Thanks to the folks who keep posting in this ol' 60-comment-and-counting Slack thread for bringing this to my attention...)

I Love It When a Weekend Comes Together

I love Memorial Day weekend, the three-day bonanza when we pause to reflect and remember all the brave men and women who died building the Washington, Jefferson and Lincoln Memorials. Thanks for all your hard work, they look and smell fantastic.

It also means an extra day of sloth, another afternoon spent 'round a grill in a lounging and/or reclining position. Mom Cowboy jokingly calls me "America's Guest," a reputation I upheld graciously this weekend as a participant of three separate barbeques in three different parts of New York State (Lawn Gisland on Saturday, Westchester on Sunday and an NYC roofdeck yesterday). And I added nothing of value to any of the three, besides my good looks and rapist wit.

But perhaps my favorite part of the weekend was during the few hours I spent inside: I woke up to an A-Team Marathon on Monday morning before the final 'cue. I rose from a fitful slumber earlier than planned, flipped through the guide and saw "A-Team, A-Team, A-Team" on Sleuth TV, channel 102 on your NYC Time Warner system.

(Interestingly enough, there actually is a Sleuth TV network, which right now consists of The A-Team, Knight Rider, Simon & Simon, Miami Vice, The Equalizer and a bunch of shitty two-hour USA Network-type movies. Call me when you get some Banacek or some Columbo up in that piece, fuckers.)

Let me give you an idear of how psyched I was at this brush with serendipity: If I were a teacher, the first question I'd ask all the parents of the kids in my class on Open School Night is whether they watched The A-Team as children. For the parents that watched it, I'll give their kids an automatic A. For the parents that didn't watch, I'll not only flunk their offspring, but I'll beat them regularly with a metal-tipped yardstick. So, yeah, I was pretty excited about the marathon.

But I quickly realized how ridiculously easy it was to make a formulaic television show in the 1980s. Apparently, as I learned from re-watching one of my favorite childhood shows, inconsistencies and believability just didn't exist before the Interweb. In this era of Lost and Alias and 24 and The Sopranos, we pick apart every last detail and run from watching one little box to typing on another little box, just to complain about how "JJ Abrams is a fucking hack" or "David Chase lost his fucking magic, brah."

Yet on The A-team, you're supposed to accept that a more-than-middle-aged Hannibal can knock out a 30-something criminal with one punch to the jaw. Or that B.A. Baracus could've worn all that jewelry in the military. Or that someone as fragile as Face would've been in the military at all. Or that people find Murdoch remotely funny. Okay, I'll even buy the minor stuff, to play along.

Here's where they got me: In a special, two-hour episode that takes place on the Amazon, the A-Team helps an archaelogist escape from a makeshift jail to find a "lost city." The bad guys let them escape, though, in an effort to tail them and find the lost city themselves. So Hannibal gathers the group and says, "I expect Doyle and his men to be here any second." Any second.

What ensues is a four-minute 80s-style montage of The A-Team and their friends positioning perimeter defenses. Hannibal's chopping down trees, BA's pushing and hoisting huge boulders to the top of trees to set up these intricate traps all around the island, Murdoch and Face are buttressing their bunker and setting up ambush spots. And after they finish what would take ordinary humans about three weeks to set up, Doyle and his henchmen arrive to take on The A-Team, just as Hannibal expected, "any second."

Hannibal & The Gang save the day, as per usual, and in perhaps the biggest example of believability gone awry, they hit BA lightly over the head with a switch in order to get him in the air (for those that don't remember or know, this military man has a tremendous fear of flying and "ain't gettin' on no plane, Hannibal"). One light tap and Mr. T is out like a light.

Still, I found myself loving this fortuitious find. I realized Murdoch wasn't nearly as funny as I thought he was, and that Hannibal was much older than I remembered his character. But it didn't deter me from sitting there in my boxers for four hours watching the ingenuity and brute force of The A-Team, eschewing the first few innings of Randy Johnson's no-hit bid in favor of my old gang, a true treat.

BBQs and TV...I love it when a weekend comes together.

Slack Link of the Day: An example of why teenagers can fuck up even the easiest tasks...the ING Ottawa Marathon was ruined this weekend when the lead runners took the wrong route. Why? "Marathon organizers said the confusion occurred when a group of high school students left their post at a barricade to talk to some friends at the next corner. While the volunteers were gone, a motorist moved the barricade." No AM/PM. Was not the snooze.

Slack Video of the Day: Ever hear Stevie Wonder rip up the Sesame Street song live on the show? Neither had I, 'til this morning. He absolutely blows this song out of the water, a funky rager in every sense of the word. Anyway, here's Stevie tearing through the Sesame Song, and here's a special Superstition bonus from the same show. (BUT, he's gay. I mean, he's gay. Excuse me, he's blind).

Slack Song of the Day: Everyone loves Wilco. I'm just lukewarm on 'em. I like them, I respect them, I think Tweedy's ridiculously talented, but they're just not the total package for me. (Ir)regardless of my calculated indifference, here's my favorite Wilco tune, live at Union College in 2002: Jesus, Etc. For more live Wilco, click here.

Slack Obit of the Day: "Paul Gleason, a veteran of 60 movie roles including the detention-dispensing school principal in 1985's The Breakfast Club, died in a Burbank hospital Saturday of mesothelioma, a rare form of lung cancer linked to asbestos..."

Memorial Day Tidings

First, enjoy this incredibly romantic moment captured from what appears to be a morning show in Australia.

Next, please help yourself to some prime Van the Man cuts from the Fillmore West.

And, above all else, continue to take care of yourself and each other this weekend. Amen. USA.

Two Years Already?

Donnie Fiedler called me one day in April 2004. We've got to start one of these here blogs. Everyone's doin' it. Look at Mulgrew, kid's gettin' more popular than Skidz ever were. Start thinking of a name...

Nothing happened for weeks. Then one day while listening to some stage banter from a 5/28/89 bootleg, our blog's name jumped right off the Maxell XLII and onto the free page. Donnie arrived one night at my old apartment for a night of Yankums beisbol and extra-curriculars, and the rest, as they say, is history lameness.

We put up the following post that night -- the only post of the 1,195 so far that's actually authored by the fictional Slack LaLane -- sat back and watched the Kudos bars roll in. Not really.

Slack LaLane: Getting Started
Welcome to Slack LaLane. Brought to you by Minolta: From the mind of Minolta...aaand by Enterprise: We'll pick you up. Enterprise. Thanks Roscoe.

So happy anniversary to, um, us. We've lost our lead jerk Donnie along the way, but we've somehow created a divine community of insensitive jerkstores to pick up the slack. I just want you to know, you've all touched my heart, you've all touched my soul, and you've all touched my junk. And I've learned nothing along the way.

Happy Slackday to you all. May you enjoy your long weekends...

Thank You, Aggregator Man

Good lord, this may be the greatest time-wasting website ever: Hundreds and hundreds of 1980s music videos, YouTube-style.

When you get caught between the Moon and New York City...

Linkbox

It's been a while since I've thrown a batch o' links against the wall and watched which one slinked to the bottom first. Let's do that:

1. "Cate Blanchett will play Bob Dylan in his 'androgenous phase' in a new biopic of the great poet-songwriter's life, it was announced, as Dylan turned 65." Whoa, is Uncle Robert okay with this choice?

I gotta say, if I were still alive and they were making a biopic from my life, I would not be too psyched if the producers called me and said, "Okay, we've got Richard Gere for the older you, Health Ledger for the younger, and oh yeah, the girl from Small Wonder will be playing the role for those somewhat androgenous years." The only way I'd sign off on Cate is if I could give her some notes, things like showing her how I used to get naked and masturbate back in the day. "Now you try it."

(More importantly, how do you pronounce biopic -- is it bio-pick, or bi-op-ic, like myopic? That's an androgenous word, methinks.)

2. Former Mets player and coach Bud Harrelson is a little upset about the plans for a new stadium to replace Shea, but somebody needs to learn'm a little perspective:

"I'm going to miss driving by it when it's gone," he said. "I guess it's like the World Trade Center: Your heart stops when you stop driving and there's just a hole."

Good work, Bud, way to say what we're all thinking. Dude, that place is a fucking shitbox, one of the worst places left to see a game in these entire United States. And since you brought up the analogy, I'd venture to guess the Al Qaeda elites hide out in classier and fancier dives than Shea. But he does bring up a decent point -- just once, instead of demolishing a stadium with good ol' fashioned pyro materials, we should simultaneously fly fueled-up 747s into the sides.

3. Yesterday officially kicked off Fleet Week in Manhattan, which I believe is an amateur comedy festival. It happens every year: For some reason, everyone thinks this is the week to make those horribly unfunny puns about seamen and jokes about "renting a sailor's outfit to get some free 'tang from the ladies."

As a public service announcement, let me say this -- the last time those jokes were funny was the mid- to late-80s. Stop it. You weren't funny before Fleet Week, and you probably won't be after Fleet Week. Don't try it this week. You probably suck at life.

4. Found this one last night with Donnie: A whole page of sports jingles. This site is fucking awesome. How can you not click on that and listen to the NBA on NBC on repeat? You can't.

Slack Anniversary of the Day: Two years ago today marked the only ever date on which the battery in my cellular telephone completely died. Dead. What a sad day in the scheme of things...

Slack Video of the Day: How can you even top the local news broadcast with the gay blind climber that I posted yesterday? Not sure you can, so I'll forfeit today's video and implore you all to watch yesterday's again. At least twice.

Slack Song of the Day: I've done karaoke only twice in my life (not counting the killer performance of Dance to the Music I threw down at Red Cowboy's wedding), and both times I sang Elvis Presley's Suspicious Minds. Great tune, just a fantastic song.

Apparently My Old Kentucky Blog agrees, and it's posted about 25 covers of the Elvis hit, including one from the Fine Young Cannibals that rawks. Check it out. [As recommended by the Live Music Blog]

Go Fuck Yourself, San Diego

Arguably the funniest unintentional slip-up I've ever seen on the news:



Thanks to the fine gal at Things That make You Go Hmm for finding this gem...and another thanks to the kind anonymous poster that found the gay blind guy's reaction.

Where McCarver At?

Nothing says "champion horse rehab" quite like a Tim McCarver lookalike in veterinary scrubs, courtesy of SI.com...

"Barbaaarohh triiied to sliiiide down from hiiigh on the outsiiiide to down and een on the eensiiiide, but when he planted his hooof een the dirrrt he pulled up a bit laa-yaame...I'm just glad they didn't have to send this horse awaaaay. Awaaaay. Awaaaay. Sliiider!"

Dickmagnet!

At setbreak of the Thursday night Phil & Friends show, a one-time San Francisco resident told me to be careful and watch where I go when leaving The Warfield. "Not exactly the greatest spot for a venue," he says to me, he says.

I've been down to Camden NJ, and I've been to some other undesirable locales, so I didn't think too much of this seemingly unnecessary advice. Sure I saw some devious characters slinking around the back alleys on my way in, but this is San Francisco...how bad could it be?

After the show we left the venue out the back -- a much easier egress, and actually fitting for San Francisco. Sure enough, a handful of dirty vagrants and trampy streetwalkers began to meander towards the exiting whiteness, and that's when I saw one of the most horrifically hilarious sights of all-time. Seriously, I'm still laughing.

Just then, a six-foot Pam Grier lookalike straight out of blaxploitation flicks, clad in eight-inch stiletto heels, a skirt that barely covered her vaheena and a tube top more likely to be classified as a headband, lit a cigarette and walked towards us. This strumpet then performed a move that'll stick with me forever...

Passing on this dude's right in the opposite direction, she stealthily reached out her right hand and grabbed his pecker. With full bird in hand, she cackled, tilted her head back and yelled "Dickmagnet!" in a voice combining the styles of Bootsy Collins and Mrs. Klump from The Nutty Professor. And the whole thing took place in about a two-second interval. The dude was stunned. A truly awesome move.

Slack Song of the Afternoon: Some of you may be familiar with Gnarls Barkley's dope-ass song "Crazy" (Gnarls played a sold-out show last night in NYC)...if not, click on Gnarls' MySpace page and give it a whirl. Now that we're all on the same page, check out this pretty cool cover by Ray LaMontagne.

How It All Started: Chairmen

How'd I know the San Francisco trip would turn out as perfectly as planned? Frankly I'd expect nothing less after the serendipitous beginning, the postiviely strong omen at the JFK Airport. When a trip starts off with handshakes from the Chairman of the DNC and the Chairman of the Boards, you know it's gonna be special.

I never usually approach celebrities -- or however the devil it is you'd characterize Page McConnell and Dr. Howard Dean -- but this was too good to pass up. We like Page's new f*&^ing shirt, man, we sure do.

First I sauntered up to Page, who genuinely seemed happy after I praised his name and was very appreciative of his efforts through the years. We discussed his upcoming album and his lack of management, then I wished him well and went on my way, not wanting to monopolize any more of his time. I really should have asked him for some money, since he has so much of mine in his coffers.

But as I was boarding I saw him talking to Dr. Dean, so I headed off the line and made my way over to them. I approached as Page said "Yeah, I've been to a couple of Trey's shows." Then Dean saw me and said, "This guy must be from Vermont, he recognized us both." I says to him, I says, "No, just a New Yorker that's a big fan of you both."

Just an awesome way to kick off a trip in which everything worked out to sheer perfection...Leo and Deano, fantastic.

Slack E-mail Subject of the Day: Either the spammers have increasingly ridiculous random phrase generation machines or they're getting wackier in an effort to make you laugh and open the e-mail. Here's a subject line I received in my bulk mail folder yesterday: "Well, look who's here! It's God's gift to crack whores!" Classic.

Slack Starkian Trivia of the Day: In my quest to provide youse with some useless but useful shit here, I offer you our very own question and answer guy, Mr. Donnie Fiedler. "First the question -- Did any pitcher give up a home run to both Babe Ruth and Hank Aaron? And then, did any pitcher give up a home run to both Aaron and Bonds?

There may be someone else, but we know this much so far: Rick Reuschel allowed two home runs to Aaron and one to Bonds. Frank Tanana allowed one each to Aaron and Bonds. Anyone have any more info, or is that it? No Babe/Aaron connection?" --D.F.

Slack Song of the Day: In honor of my meeting Page, here's some Vida Blue from New Year's Eve 2001 at the Roseland in New York -- Jam 15, Get Ready, and Colin Jones.

Giving New Meaning...

...to the "Number 2 pencil." Heyyoooo!

Cheering for Ourselves

About two weeks ago I practically begged our Left Coast Host, Chuck B, to make sure we had those four promised tickets to the Athletics vee. Giants interleague game in hand. Barry was sitting on #713 and sure to pass Ruth before our trip, but I just had one of those visions.

"Get the fucking tickets, man, he's gonna hit this shit out with us in the ballpark -- and you can mark those palabras, we're seeing 714."

And hit that shit out, he did. It was like Bonds waited for us, holding off his record breaker for nine games and 40 plate appearances until we were there in Oakland with him.

Whether you like the guy or hate that asshat douchebottle cocksucking cheater, whether you forgive him for wanting to be the greatest hitter ever or punish him for trangressions against nature and nostalgia, there's nothing quite like being in attendance for sport's truly special moments. Steroids or not, we Americans love when old records fall like Communist strongholds.

Sports are the ultimate reality show, platforms that provide us with unscripted flashes of life that constantly surprise us in terms of unforeseen reactions. Sometimes we cry from the overwhelming joy, sometimes we weep with profound sadness, sometimes we instantly grow numb with pain and sometimes we laugh at the sheer absurdity of it all.

Yet sometimes, we're still just selfish pricks no matter what the occasion unfolding. In this case, every non-Giant fan in Oakland fell into the last category. The crowd booed Barry with all its might, projecting onto the slugger everything it feels about cheaters (I think even the Canadians in attendance were jeering Bonds because Ben Johnson got caught in 1988). Men and women screamed profanities, children extended their middle fingers...

And then he made contact with a pitch from Brad "Cerebral" Halsey and the crowd fell silent immediately. That's when the cheers started. Quickly that applause increased from a simmering smatter to a full rolling boil, with much of the crowd clapping and gesticulating wildly and chanting the name of Mr. Bonds. That's when it hit me.

We weren't cheering for Barry. Not at all. All 25,000 non-Giants fans in attendance, we were cheering for ourselves. We weren't honoring his lifetime achievement, we were congratulating ourselves for being there, for having the incredible foresight and good fortune to attend this particular game on the calendar.

The crowd that day was collectively more excited about bearing witness to history than the actual history itself. This wasn't about one of the game's great sluggers, this was about how awesome we all were for being in that park on the right day.

Down with monumental homeruns, up with right place/right time. Take a bow, everyone, we saw #714. All Barry did was hit 'em.

The picture up above is the first pitch of Barry's first at-bat, taken from my vantage point behind home plate and a bit off to the side. This picture above here shows Barry trotting around the bases, about to be greeted by his batboy son.

Slack Video of the Day: Since I don't have the expressed written consent of Major League Baseball (I only have implied oral consent), I stress that this video is not for download or re-broadcast in any way. This is simply for viewing purposes, so you can all see what I saw and remark, "Man, that Ace is a cool fucking dude." Well, I am.

And because I'm cool, here's a pretty sweet 45-second shot I took of Bonds crossing home plate after tying the Babe.

Slack Song of the Day: Since I can't find a copy of Tina Turner's Simply The Best for this space, I figure I'll go with an anniversary driven tune -- Radio City Music Hall, 5/22/00, one of the coolest versions of the popular rock band Phish's Ghost ever performed. What a thing of absolute beauty, truly mesmerizing.

#714

Witnessing history is always incredible...good, bad, ugly, tragic, it doesn't matter how you see it, the pleasure's in watching something unfold first-hand that causes a palpable 20-minute atmospheric buzz.

Full story and more once I catch some shuteye and head into work for the first time in five days...San Francisco: I dig, I dig.

Set II: NY > SF

What ever happened to predictibility?
The milkman, the paperboy, and evening TV.
You miss your ol' familiar friends
They're waitin' just around the bend....
Everywhere you look, everywhere you go (there's a heart).
There's a heart
A hand to hold onto...

Get ready Tanner family, Uncles Jesse and Joey, Becky and Gibler, I'm heading west, I'm home from DC and jetting off to SF...

On the agenda: A four-man, four-day weave through the cities of San Francisco and Oakland, taking in the hippie stench and cable cars filled with rice and the gays (as I understand it, this is my first trip there), sniffing nostalgic glory at The Warfield with a legendary bassist who knows the home turf, attending an interleague affair between the Athletics and Giants that may be the day Barrence Bonds hits #714 or #715 or both, white-boy funk-dancing to the always lovely Greyboy Allstars, spending time as a patron of the city proper and returning safely to this perch. Needless to say, I'm fairly excited.

While I'm gone, I urge you to ponder this questionably racist question: How come black people from Britain don't have crazy American black people names? We've got Anfernees and Shaquilles and Rasheeds and a ton of Shaniquas and Laticias, they've got guys named Frank Bruno and Lennox Lewis and the Arsenal defense that inspired this thought, Ashley Cole and Sol Campbell. What's the genesis of this divide? Education? Ghettoization? What factors do you see? Let's hear it...

Slack Video of the Day: I typed "San Francisco" into YouTube and came across this clip of a giant pillow fight somewhere in the city. Looks fantastic, but man, tough call by the city council -- a lesser man would have a field day with Great SF Pillow Bite jokes.

Slack Song of the Extended Weekend: Let's go with one from Thursday night's entertainment and one from Saturday night's -- Viola Lee Blues from the famed April '99 Phil & Half-Phish Warfield shows and Jack Rabbit from Greyboy's JazzFest 2004 reunion.

Caption Contest: Bush Sandwich

Since I've got nothing better today, let's take a gander at this photo and see what our clever little heads can produce...

I'm going with "Given his machismo and aggressiveness on the world stage, I thought these woulda been much bigger...and brassier."

The guy who brought this picture to my attention has a much funnier one: "Apparently Cheney is not the only one who enjoys shooting men in the face." That's gouda. Whatchu got, fools?

Slack Google and Yahoo! favorite search terms that brought people here over the past 24 hours: Payola and Kennedy, Enrico Palazzo, Miles Papasian, Stacey Dash's big nipples, Quahog news team soundboards, fahting games, Family Guy Brian says Awkward, Ashlee Simpson sextape, leaving sexy voicemails, Trey Anastasio Oxycontin, Steve Olin headless, and "You know first of all we are doing this for her ok because neither one of us wants to get divorced. And second of ly, i know youre the big marriage expert -- oh i"

Slack Video of the Day: In honor of today's Champions' League Barseweb final between FC Barcelona and Arsenal (it's being TiVoed at home, DO NOT post any spoilers or e-mail me anything), here's a fine video of the best player in the world, Ronaldinho. Conventional wisdom says Barca 3-1, I'm going with Arseweb 2-1.

Slack Song of the Day: No frills, just tunes, here's Deep Banana Blackout with some funk -- Tug, Breakfast at Volo's and Bump & Sway from 11/6/98 at the Hammerstein in NYC.

Dyke Stadium?

Point shaving, safety killing, lineman shooting...for a bunch of supposedly wicked smaht kids, the Northwestern University folk sure do make a whole lot of trouble.

The latest incident involves the NU women's soccer team, which is now embroiled in an alleged hazing scandal. Move over Duke lacrosse team...there's a new hotness, and it's name is lesbionic hazing.

[For more on this masturbatory event, check out the Bad Jocks post that started this whole brouhaha]

This reminds me of the time the gargantuan 'n gangly center on the women's basketball team and her little Asian surfboard sidekick convinced two guys in my house to play Strip Beirut in the wee small hours. Only that was nasty, and this, well this, this is the stuff college fantasies are based on, the sort of incident that induces an involuntary raging woody in History of Western Civilization while reading the Daily Northwestern's indignant account.

Dee Cee Open Thread

I'm off to the nation's capital for a couple days, a quick work-related jaunt preceding my upcoming long weekend in San Francisco...

Play nice in my absentia.

She Hold The Shotgun While You Do-Si-Do

Normally I hesitate to break out the trusty ol' "Only in New York" adage, usually for fear of the inevitable collective eyeroll from the anti-East Coast contingent. But this time, this particular episode might qualify as one of those moments.

A few of us strolled casually around Washington Square Park on Saturday, soaking in the weatherman's sunny mistake. Ominous forecasts be damned, 'twas a gorgeous day in Manhattan, and the five of us made the rounds from musical act to street performance (excluding the comedic n' acrobatic black twins, who were on break). We eventually traded in the bluegrassy Powder Kegs for a two-set gratis show from Buzz Universe on the east side of the concrete park.

Kicking off its second set with The Band's Up on Cripple Creek, the band served as our unofficial pie cooling on the window sill, and we wandered aimlessly over to trade nods of approval at the decent cover tune. Upon finishing, the band introduced Chris Barron to the stage, and the name rang strangely familiar, like I should've known who that was. He looked familiar, too, only a little older and cleaner, a bit like Peter Sarsgaard in a blazer and a bruised ego.

Just one note into the second song I remembered Chris Barron. "Ohhh, shit, that is fucking awesome!" I remarked aloud.

Maybe 50 people crowded around the free show at that time, cherishing the unexpected warmth of a spring Saturday with a decent band taking on some covers and laying down some funk. Little did they know, the lead singer of the Spin Doctors would be stopping by for a nostalgic run at Little Miss Can't Be Wrong.

And what can be better than a warm Saturday in the park with a free outdoor show from a seven-piece band playing Up on Cripple Creek > Little Miss Can't Be Wrong with a fantastic sit-in from the dude from the fucking Spin Doctors?

Only in New York, I tells ya. And sometimes in Iowa. Maybe once in Oklahoma. Eh, in Milwaukee too. Whatever. Whatevs.

Visual: Here's a video from the Buzz Universe folks of Saturday's collaboration with Chris Barron. And if that don't work, try this one.

Slack Song of the Day: I mean, really, did you expect anything other than a kickass versions of Little Miss Can't Be Wrong (this one's from 6/13/94)? Okay, a bonus, here's Two Princes.

Slack Video of the Day: Starbux shocked me on Saturday night when he asked me what I thought of the Rick Sutcliffe controversy. Which Sut controversy? Apparently the ESPN analyst dropped by the Padres game after some golf with Bill Murray for a cameo with the local crew and made a complate drunken ass out of himself. Having just watched this video, I can verify the man acts like that short-lived Drunk Girl character on Saturday Night Live a few years ago. Man, seriously, this is comedy. See for yourself. [For more, consult this Deadspin post]

Robot Chicken Plug

Sunday nights on Adult Swim, check your local listings...You really should be watching this show: clever vignettes, obscure pop culture references, guest appearances...this clip, and the rest, hysterical.



Thanks to Plagiarist for the heads up on this one...

DanjaLinks

Another busy day at the ol' oficina, so here are some links that caught my eye this fine afternoon:

1. Regular readers of this blog know my affinity for casual racism, perpetuating stereotypes for the sake of comedy. Yeah, I do my part. But this is a bit of a shocker: A high-school teacher in South Carolina is educating today's youth with the message that blacks are inferior to whites. Perhaps this guy doesn't spend enough time hanging around interracial lockerrooms. Not that, I, um...

2. Here's a Festivus miracle for the ages: "A wheelchair-bound Los Angeles woman, who has repeatedly filed lawsuits over access for the disabled, got up and ran after police arrested her for fraud, authorities said on Thursday."

3. And, finally, my favorite headline of the day: "Alligator Likely Stalked Jogger On Land Before Attack." The mental picture this creates in my head is beyond hysterical -- an alligator in a trenchcoat, smoking a menthol cigarette in the shadows, jotting down notes with a golf pencil in a small reporter's notebook, constantly checking his watch...Just great stuff all around today.

Slack Song and Video of the Day: I've talked about Danjaboots on this here rag before, the two-man outfit crooning "cowboy songs about drinking, fighting and fucking." Having seen them once again last night, I can only hope their separate hectic touring schedules allow them to continue this act for years to come. And it was agreed by all: Last night was the finest effort yet from guitarist Scott Metzger and human octopus Sir Joe Russo.

They played all the Danjahits last night -- Go Home Hippie, Burn for This, It Ain't Gonna Suck Itself, Dylan's The Man in Me, Ween's Piss Up a Rope, Flaco Dominguez, and a handful more. Metzger also introduced a hilarious new rocker last night, a hastily written plea to a girl who needs to eat more food and do less blow. Well-received, too.

This was as fun as a 45-minute set gets, folks...check 'em out the next time they hit your area. So here's a fuzzy YouTube video I uploaded of Burn For This, a cleverly funny tune with the refrain, "You're gonna burn for this/We hope that you die slow."



And here's a Sendspace video of the Metzger classic Go Home Hippie.

Reading is Fundamental

The upcoming issue of the New York Times Book Review attempts to identify "the single best work of American fiction published in the last 25 years."

The winner? Well I didn't post a picture of Toni Morrison's Beloved cover for my health (though I'm told doing so allows me to live eternal life like the freaks in Being John Malkovich, so maybe I did). I've never read this work, but I imagine it contains the words "Oooh, child" and "Hmm mmm" and "Come 'ere, sugar" an awful lot.

My vote probably goes to John Kennedy Toole's posthumously published A Confederacy of Dunces, even though it was penned outside of the editor's query's framework. Still, it was actually issued in the correct time frame, so um, go fuck yourself, rules sticklers.

What say you, BiblioSlackers: What Is the Best Work of American Fiction of the Last 25 Years?

"Two Beldings in One Building, One of Whom Is Balding" --Samuel Powers

I've got nothing, you've got nothing, we all know this. I haven't posted anything worthwhile, the comments are lackluster, and there's no use pretending we still have the spark.

So instead of faking it any more, here's a YouTube video of Saved By The Bell's Mr. Belding -- now up to about a deuce and a half, maybe three bills -- singing some Tom Jones karaoke at a bar in Burbank. It all breaks down for him around two minutes, 40 seconds.



Hey, at least he whoops it up for the karaoke host and bartenders, well played, sir. They're workin' hard, let's load 'em down with tips.

Slack Link of the Day: How's this for scary-hilarious (or scalarious): "The government is secretly collecting records of ordinary Americans' phone calls in an effort to build a database of every call made within the country, it was reported Thursday."

For more on why your hot, sweaty phone sex chats and small-time drugs deals may be stored on a server, check out the more comprehensive USA Today article.

Slack Song of the Day: The famed and oft-plugged Live Music Archive upgraded the site yesterday and embedded a streaming jukebox on every show page. Simply brilliant -- now you can listen to segues the way they were intended to be heard. I suggest you try it out for yourself, play around in there...or you can start on this Ween show from 4/9/06 or this RANA show from 3/4/05.

Hello, Old Friend

I love getting together with old friends. There's nothing better than catching up with those associates you try to keep in close touch with but wind up seeing every four to six months.

Usually as a result, those particular friendships are thinner than a Hispanic chin beard, though the formidable, underlying bond remains stronger than Magnus ver Magnusson. Even I'm confused by that analogy-strewn sentence, so here's what I mean in plain English:

You'll always be tight no matter how long the friendship layoff, and when you sit down and talk you can reminisce about old times, check in on the significant other or spouse and kids, laugh about things only you guys would find funny. But, really, as for specifics, you have no idea what the shit he or she does for a living anymore, where they call home or even where the hell they're going in life.

That all leads to exchanges like this one, between two guys who've known each other since the 1980s and who've been decent friends for at least a decade:

Friend #1: So, man, you're going out on your own...what made you decide to be a commercial real estate lawyer?
Friend #2: 'Cuz that's what I've been doing for the past five years.
Friend #1: Right, totally.

I don't know why I'm posting that, nor really why I found it so funny, but let this serve as a reminder to e-mail or call the people with whom you'd like to reconnect. Maybe you can find out what the hell they've been up to besides avoiding your phone calls.

Slack Link of the Day: The Phish boards, they never stop giving. Here's a high-liarious Flickr photo stream for the stoner set (may not be safe for work, though there' s no nudity or anything).

Slack Video of the Day: Courtesy of Coach, here's a sweet little video clip of an "FAA Radar track sequence of a bank of FedEx aircraft getting into Memphis as thunderstorms pass over the airport." That description isn't very strong in the grammar department, but the video is strong to quite strong in the cool-as-shit department.

Slack Song of the Day: Let us dive head first into some heavy blues this morning, courtesy of my man Buddy Guy (7/25/67). FYI, if you've never seen Festival Express, the scene with Buddy wandering off into the crowd whilst playing is worth the price of the DVD.

Slack Plug of the Day: I love baseball but I'm an idiot when it comes to statistics. Sure I know the baseball card stats -- I can quote homerun totals and batting averages -- but I never got into the Bill Jamesians of the world (as opposed to the Ellen Jamesians, I fucking love those tongueless chicks).

Enter Ethan, who updates his site Strong as a Can irregularly, but he always does it well. This is from yesterday's batch of stats:

"everyone playing the cubs must be ecstatic that dusty baker continues to pencil juan pierre and his womack-esque .284 obp into the leadoff spot. with lee out and aramis ramirez struggling, it makes just too much sense to throw matt murton and his .374 obp into the 1 hole. i'd also like to point out the cubs are paying $10 million for a cf and rf who (a) both have obp's < .300, and (b) have a combined 15 extra base hits. but hey, at least jacque jones does that 'cool' bat flip when he jacks one out."

Check out his site, it's usually new every Tuesday and Friday.

Thoughts de Rando

Work's been one busy day after the next, so allow me to post some quick thoughts and return to comtemplating whether or not I should jump out this here window...

--Kudos bar to ABC, which found the best possible way to douche up the already douchified David Blaine "Drowned Alive" telecast to the absolute maximum: Adding Stuart Scott as the announcer.

Really, Stu Fucking Scott? Nobody else was available? Nobody with, say, a grammar skill-set that makes sense to a national audience and maybe two working ocular cavities? Frankly I'm a little shocked Blaine didn't "run the okey-doke" or "holla at a playa" last night.

Thankfully we TiVoed the show and watched it in about seven minutes, but I have to wonder, is there anyone more universally despised by the public but lovingly pushed by management in the entire world of entertainment? This guy's the Kurt Angle of ESPN.

--I was talking with a friend last week about things that need to become socially acceptable in our lifetimes. This isn't a question of legality, just acceptability. As we all know, George Costanza's vote is for "draping one's self in velvet" and The Dude's vote would likely be "doing a j" in public. I'm strongly in favor of both opinions.

But if I had to choose one thing to become socially acceptable right now, it'd be rub 'n tug massages, better known by the ol' "happy endings" moniker. Seriously, I don't get the stigma.

What's a massage? By definition, isn't it the kneading and rubbing of certain areas of the body in order to relax the muscles and mind, to aid circulation, to provide a sense of sensual stimulation? So wouldn't a 30-second release of tension, the ultimate sensual stimulation, be the only way to finish the job?

To say there's a "fine line" between massages and prostitution is horseshit: You've already paid someone to rub you whilst nude, and you're already feeling the warmth of soft hands on your hamstrings and lower back and taut shoulders. That's sensual, but it's also sexual. They're complimentary, and they go together, just like a professional massage and quick jerky jerk. I'd go so far as to say non-Asian massages should be taboo from now on.

No handjob? What are you, some sort of freak?

--I know this won't be popular, but 24 has turned into an excessively putrid exercise. This show hasn't just jumped the shark, it's jumped a school of sharks and landed in a steaming pile of shark dung.

It's now that the show's wholly unbelievable -- that, I can deal with. It's really more about the horrid caliber of writing and acting, the story lines that don't make any sense and the inability to conjure up the nervous anxiety that it once did. I used to need valium to calm me down from the edge of my seat, now I laugh hysterically when the show's over and wonder why I wasted 44 minutes on characters inexplicably named "Miles Papasian." Shit, even Jerry Rice knew when to quit faster than this tired shlock.

So concludes this filler of a post. I've let you all down again.

Star Trek Cribs & Presidential Nonsense

Not awesome, but pretty clever. Worth a link, methinks.



Like I said, that's borderline funny. The following quotation from our president, however, is laugh-out-loud hysterical...When asked about his best moment in five years of office, no joke, Bush said this:

"'You know, I've experienced many great moments, and it's hard to name the best,' Bush told weekly Bild am Sonntag when asked about his high point since becoming president in January 2001. 'I would say the best moment of all was when I caught a 7.5-pound perch in my lake,' he told the newspaper in an interview published Sunday."

Awesome. Leader of the free world. Now watch this drive.

Free Advertising?

Apparently the movement's taking hold...the fans are out there.

Other interesting people and things I saw in Washington Square Park this weekend and last (besides the six-foot, seven-inch panhandling, freestyle-rapping dreadlocked Jew):

Here's a quick video I took of some dude jumping over five tourists volunteers in a line, here's three minutes of concrete soul-singing evidence that proves black people are innately cooler than everyone else, and here's some counter-evidence that shows lighter skinned people can actually play the jazz. I love no-agenda weekends.

Slack Link of the Day: Lukas just passed this over, indicating how proud he was of this mother-son unit for having their priorities straight: "A 13-year-old boy told police his mother required him to do his homework first thing when he got off the school bus, then smoked marijuana with him as a reward." Top-notch parenting.

Slack Song of the Day: I've got a hankerin' for some tunes from the February '05 Treymoe.deski show at the Roseland Ballroom: Plane Crash (best jam of 2005, seriously, listen), Night Speaks to a Woman and Peaches en Regalia. What an incredible evening...

Google Search of the Year

Apparently I'm the foremost authority on the drug usage patterns of one of my rock idols: "gossip trey anastasio uses heroin"

Trey must've taken the Pepsi Challenge with that Amsterdam shit...

Memories of Heaven and Hell

Get ready, tomorrow's the 132nd running of the Kentucky Derby, an event that classifies as one of the awesomest and least awesome occasions on The Gods' Green Earth.

For those who've never been to the Derby, Churchill Downs is very demographically similar to the Titanic: You've got the stinkin' rich folks in the grandstand with their foolish hats and flowery dresses and fashionable monocles drinking mint juleps and asking "Where did Buffy go?" in a type of Midwestern lockjaw that's equally laughable and pitiful.

That scene's high-lariously juxtaposed by a celebratory Mardi Gras atmosphere on the infield, where about 100,000 immature 15-30 year-olds congregate in the name of grain alcohol and flashing titties. It's the dichotomous story of the haves and the have-alcohol poisonings. And of the wastoids on the infield, I'd venture to say 95 percent of them don't see a horse all day, unless you count the girl with the incredibly long face and big teeth.

The day is grueling, largely spent soaking in the sun and sweating out whatever you put in your body. By the end of the day you want to kill or maim people, weaving to find an exit through fight-picking belligerents, staggering amateurs and liquid pools of food-deprived vomit. I caught one glimpse of eventual winner Fusaichi Pegasus (2000 Derby) near the beginning of the day's big race and headed for the car, downtrodden and ready to get the fuck out of Dodge.

Here's my one vivid memory of the day: As we were walking out, The Boston Firekid and I watched a skinny white girl timidly standing in front of a huge black dude standing on a milk crate, pants around his ankles. The girl, bewildered and drunk, had a cheering section of the big dude's friends, all loudly chanting "Suck it, suck it, suck it."

She may not have seen a horse all day long, but at that moment she was staring eye-to-eye with a horsecock. At that point, I knew we were in a part of the world as lawless as the open water. I take a toke off my one-hitter and smiled, then frowned, then headed for the exit.

Instead of sleeping there, we hit the road a few hours later, and I fell asleep knowing that'd be my first and last time at the Kentucky Derby. What a fantastic and terrible afternoon.

My pick: I wouldn't be surprised if chalk held up and Brother Derek won, or if one of Bob Baffert's three horses deliver him a win. But I'm taking 10-1 Sweetnorthernsaint to win and Jim J. Bullock to block.

Slack Link of the Day: Back Page Phil on the other side of the pond sent over this gem of a electroal story: "A former mayor of St Albans lost his council seat after an election tie was settled by getting the candidates to pick the longest pencil." Since the eventual winner was a chick, frankly I'm surprised she had the longest pencil.

Slack Video of the Day: A man, a ukelele, a rock in Central Park and a Beatles tune for the ages -- While My Ukelele Gently Weeps. Dig it.

Slack Video of the Day II: Another day, another Tea Leaf Green link. If you're interested in seeing what these guys look like on stage as a result of my incessant fluffing, here's a full-length professionally shot video of the boys in Vegas. Well done.

Slack Song of the Day: Anyone in the mood for some solid organ-ship? I sure am, so youse got no choice. From August 19, 2005 at The Independent, here's Robert Walter's Super Heavy Organ (feat. Skerik on sax, Johnny Vidacovich on drums and James Singleton on bass) with 2% Body Fat, 34 Small, Inside Straight and Instant Karma.

Americana: IM & Beisbol

It's no secret Alex Rodriguez has been struggling at the plate, pouting his purple lips in frustration following feeble at-bat after feeble at-bat. But there's no reason to believe this will last all season, and fantasy owners would be wise to chill out and tell that bitch to be cool.

The following is an IM conversation between A-Rod's current owner (I love fantasy leagues, where you get to sound like a chattel-owning slave owner) and me from last night:

ChipotleBob: best offer for a-rod?
acecowboy: pasta salad and a plate of fries
ChipotleBob: done
ChipotleBob: i want ranch though as well
acecowboy: no ranch, that kills the deal
ChipotleBob: sorry...i need ranch for the fries
ChipotleBob: cant make the deal without it
acecowboy: a-rod's not worth it right now
ChipotleBob: no he isnt
acecowboy: hes GARBAGE
ChipotleBob: thats being nice
acecowboy: he's caca (todd, 2000)*
ChipotleBob: fun fact on arod...he's 2 for his last 23
ChipotleBob: dope
acecowboy: he just walked
acecowboy: i'd rather he got hbp
ChipotleBob: of course
ChipotleBob: thats all he does
acecowboy: right in the spine
ChipotleBob: right in the face
ChipotleBob: "in the face"
acecowboy: matsui hit a seeing-eye single the other night when i was at the game...can you blind that ball with dental floss too?

*Two notes here:
1. There was this kid Todd in my fraternity, real good guy, but he tended to get a wee bit overexcitedly animated and would often scream and exaggerate every single word that came out of his mouth. Throughout junior year we tended to think everything was stained with poo, for we were constantly bombarded with shouts of "That's caaaa-caaaa." I still use it to this day.

2. I love employing the little-used textnote in friendly communication. Sometimes I even utilize the textnote in speech, placing the source and year immediately after my sentence or phrase and making the accompanying parenthesis with my hands. Try it.

That repartee was complemented by this simultaneous baseball conversation with the biggest fanboy Mets fan I know:

snacks: Mets are the most well run organization in sports
snacks: definitely baseball
acecowboy: haha
snacks: Omar Minaya was in the booth for 2 innings
snacks: that man is good.
acecowboy: i actually laughed out loud there (but i'll never say "lol")
snacks: is it "out loud" or "aloud"
acecowboy: "out loud"...otherwise it'd be "la"
acecowboy: "aloud" is a word, though.
snacks: what does it mean?
acecowboy: "out loud"
snacks: so, why both?
acecowboy: verbal variety is the spice of life

Allright, Mets fans, now's the time to make your case...I personally think the Mets aren't even in the top-five best run organization in baseball let alone sports, trailing (in no particular order) the Athletics, White Sox, Injuns, Braves and Royals. Okay, not the Royals, but to call the Mets the "most well-run organization in sports" after one month of positive returns is nothing less than short-term hysteria.

Let's talk when Pedro's toe falls off. You want a toe? I can get you a toe. Believe me, there are ways, dude.

I Love This Sign

I've heard this joke before, but it's just that much funnier coming from this older lady's raised placard:

It's funny because it's true. Just blow the guy already.

Slack Link of the Day: I've heard many stories of the maid of honor taking a shot to the face or chest, but never from bullets...this is nuttier than squirrel turds.

Slack Video of the Day: I posted this video in December 2004, but someone just passed it my way again and I thought I'd throw it back up here. It's legendary musical genius Frank Zappa taking on Washington Times columnist John Lofton and famed CNN assface Robert Novak. We need more men like Zappa in this world. "We're talking about words."



Slack Song of the Day: Let's keep this brief...here's Bob Dylan & The Band on their 1974 tour from Michigan's Crisler Arena (2/2/74), following a fantastic Bill Graham intro with a sick performance. I just wish there were a better recording of greatness.

AniMusic Arousal

Here's a fantastically confusing afternoon headline for y'all: "Constant Sexual Arousal Plagues NorCal Woman"

I don't mean to belittle this troubled woman's obvious pain, but I read a similar article recently entitled "Constant Sexual Arousal Plagues Every Male Aged 13-18." Good read, I jacked off to it.

And now to the point of this here post...Rob Ronanea sent over this cool Google video today, a great clip for anyone wickedly high on mushrooms. Play with sound, obviously.

"That was fuckin' trippy, man." --Lance's wife Jody (The One With All the Shit in Her Face?)

If You're in Fiji or New Zealand

Stop reading this and get to higher ground...

Always a First Time

Roommate Mike and I were a little short when the speedy delivery guy arrived with our tasty Sammy's Asian Gourmet. I had $11, he had $11, we needed $30. No gouda.

Ordinarily there'd be a moment of slight panic, followed quickly by a moment of harsh realization that one of us would have to follow him to the ATM downstairs in order to complete the transaction. Ordinarily. Instead, I looked to my immediate left and suggested we just take it out of the tip jar. "We'll just take it out of the tip jar," I suggested. "Right," he said knowingly.

There really is a first time for everything. And I'll always remember this one, my first time paying for Chinee food with money from a tip jar in my apartment.

You know, one of these days we should probably have another party. Maybe next weekend, Slackers drink free. Tell 'em Ace sent you.

Just remember to tip your bartender, we all gotta eat...Chinese food.


Slack Link of the Day: If you want my vote for NBA MVP, it's gotta be Kobe Bryant. The definition of the Most Valuable Player is the superstar who rubs off most on his teammates, who builds them in his image and says, "Follow me, I know the way." So when I saw new Laker Kwame Brown being investigated for sexual assault, I voted right then and there for Kobe. That's leadership.

Slack Video of the Day: In honor of the Ambiguously Trey Duo with Phil & Friends tour officially being announced, here's a clip of Phil's band playing He's Gone (Part II of vid) from 2/25/06 in Philly.

Slack Song of the Day: With the NOLA Jazz Fest goin' on right now, let's check in with one of my old boss' favorite bands, The Radiators. From 11/8/85 at the Maple Leaf, here's a sick version of That's All Right Mama, Cissy Strut, Corina and Not Fade Away.

Faceless Men in Bowler Hats

Between January and June of The Year 2000, we must have watched Thomas Crown Affair upwards of 100 times.

Back then life was much simpler: late afternoon wakeups, 72 holes per diem of Mario Golf, ham and swiss sandwiches from Al's Deli or D&D, chocolate milk, lots of ecstasy and dope and, with no cable television, the same five movies running on a loop.

We loved the first and last 15 minutes, couldn't get enough of it. If you've never seen the flick, the last scene involves hundreds of dudes in bowler hats and briefcases running around The Met in an attempt to let Tommy Crown, aka the Coolest Man Alive, roam freely through the museum's halls. Plot-wise it's an incredible twist, but artistically it's even more genius -- there are more than a few stunning shots. Throw in Rene Russo's supple breasts and a hot sex scene on the stairs and you have me at hello.

I'd love to have been involved in some kind of chaos like that, a magnificent mindfuck with no negative repercussions for me or really for society at large. A tribute to Ken Kesey and the Merry Pranksters, only just a little more straight.

Enter Improv Everywhere, a semi-comedic group of interchangeable members that form these anonymous happenings. I'm not entirely sure if this is old news already, but these guys flawlessly executed a brilliant plan to flood a Best Buy store with random people in collared blue shirts and khaki pants.

The underlying gimmick: "Wearing clothing almost identical to the store's uniform, the agents would not claim to work at the store but would be friendly and helpful if anyone had a question."

This write-up may take a few minutes to read through and check out all the photos and videos, but I promise it's well worth it. Like the Super Mario Brothers clip from yesterday, this type of comedy is just that much more special in this era of canned laughs. So an extra-large Kudos bar goes out to Improv Everywhere...that's great work.

Slack Video of the Day: This one's making the rounds, a stoner bidding $420 on The Price is Right and loving every minute of it. (And if you've never read the amusing story of my grandfather wearing a "From One Silver Fox To Another" T-shirt and winning all the friggin' prizes on TPIR, click on this post...)

Slack Song of the Day: I'm feeling very cover-rific today, so here's Umphrey's McGee playing William Joel's The Stranger on 9/30/05. And while we're at it, here's the Bridgeless from the Green Apple afternoon set outside Grand Central on 4/21/06.

Self-Masturbatory Stats

Another Festivus miracle:

This morning we hit 500,000 page views since inception (although I think 400,000 of those are directly attributable to my refreshing the main page for hip, new comments).

Not bad for petty Seinfeldian observations, baseball junk, poor prognostication skills, subjective music reviews and lame stoner jokes...

No, not bad at all.

Super Mario Frat Brothers

We've got a lot to discuss today, not the least of which concerns the Yanks and Red Sawx kicking off their 19-game series tonight.

It's all happening or it all happened this weekend: Stephen Colbert flawlessly lampooned the shit out of the president at White House Correspondents' Dinner (video), Mexicans & Friends are boycotting the country they supposedly want to be a part of in the name of immigrants' rights, The West Wing and The Sopranos sucked more dong than a mobster hiding in New Hampshire, Kobe drilled two tough buzzer-beaters in a surprisingly entertaining NBA playoff game, the Rangers officially got swept out of the NHL playoffs, and Don Fielder's Chelsea squad won the Premiership title (and Steven Gerrard suuurely scored two sick goals for surging Liverpool).

Oh, and someone unearthed this fantastic link to an Earl Weaver clip that couldn't possibly be funnier. But none of that compares with the following YouTube video. I'm not sure if these are the same clever dudes from the real-life Punch Out video from a few months back, but this is a genre I can fully get behind. Brilliant.



Man, that is as good as it gets. I hope these kids get fellated for this.

Slack Link of the Day: Anyone interested in watching some videos from this year's dry JazzFest, click on this link here.

Slack Song of the Day: I'd seen the Benevento/Russo Duo often enough last year that I wasn't sure they could "wow" me any more. Stale isn't quite the correct word here, but if you see a band featuring only two dudes five times in half a year, you're bound to fall into a little bit of a rut. Friday night's show, however, not only renewed my faith in the Duo, but it got me incredibly excited for the upcoming tour with Cactus, Trey and Phil & Friends.

The Duo debuted some new tunes -- Echo Park, Something for Rockets, Memphis and Soba -- and mixed in the old standbys to absolute perfection. But there was a 20-minute stretch when the Duo just nailed it, one of those "price of admission" scenes. First they played an incredible Becky with the cool, stripped down Marco-led intro (video download here, sound a bit muddied), then confirmed and seemed genuinely excited about the aforementioned mini-tour, before busting into a fantastic Best Reason to Buy the Sun.

I've posted Becky and BRTBS a few times, so for today's SSOTD, here are a few of the Duo's new tunes from the 4/13/06 show in Coulder: Echo Park, Something for Rockets, and Soba. And just for good luck, here's a cover of Paranoid Android.