Both smut peddlers admit that while DVD sales are sagging like Nina Hartley’s boob job, Internet commerce is keeping the industry erect.  

But Flynt and Francis are more concerned about winning back the hearts, vaginas and dicks of the American people, who can’t even be bothered to get the lube out of the night stand with the economy so far down the crapper.

Francis, of Girls Gone Wild fame, likened his business to Apple Pie, the Star Spangled Banner and Bald Eagles, calling the porn industry “cherished” by the American people.

Flynt said that the people of America are too limp to be sexually active, something that is depressing the nation on the whole. “With all this economic misery and people losing all that money, sex is the farthest thing from their mind,” said Flynt in a statement. “It’s time for congress to rejuvenate the sexual appetite of America. The only way they can do this is by supporting the adult industry and doing it quickly.”

Congress, still preparing to sit for their first official gang bang of 2009, hasn’t discussed bailing out Big Porno, presumably because they’ve already rolled over and gone to sleep after the rodgering they gave the auto industry.

Sometimes you get so busy you forget you submitted album reviews to Performer magazine. Then suddenly, there they are. At least, you do if that you is me.

The latest review is of a band called Stuntditch out of Philly. Check it out in the October issue of Performer or right here on the Review page.

I got The Rationales album months ago out of dumb luck: the cover looked cool and the album was short, so, I thought, why not. It’s a little more pop than I usually go for, but the album used its hooks to hook me.

See what I did there? So clever, so clever. 

I still throw it on occasionally when I’m taking a quick ride around town. The song writing is pretty solid, as you’ll see in the review, and overall the album just struck a chord with me. The band is Boston-based, so if you’re nearby and you see them playing, let me know; I’ll meet up with you and buy the first round.

I was recently informed of your potential decision not to attend Taco-ween this year in favor of some lame ass party in Bumble, MA.

To which I say: What the shit?

I’m now going to go through a list of reasons why you should attend Taco-ween instead.

Reason the first: The theme is Guitar Hero: World Tour. Costumes will be based on band members from across time immemorial. You and Andrew may have started the trend last year with your 80’s rocker themed costume. You could easily reprise your Whitesnake-chick-homage without problem.

2. There will be tacos.

Thirdly, our friends are so much cooler than any of the batshitcrazy people that will be attending a party in where-ever-the-hell-it-is-that-isn’t-JP.

4. Western MA? Honestly? Who the hell lives there anyway? More importantly, who throws a party way the hell out there, forcing friends to drive a long distance in order to attend a party? Lame-ass-ed-ness.

Reason five: JP is T-accessible.

Six: The cab ride home will be a lot cheaper and quicker. Think of poor Jack. Who will, no doubt, be stuck in a crate wishing for nothing more than some attention and love – and possibly to squeeze out a big dookie the second you two walk in the door. Travelling from JP to Newtonville will surely be more expedient than travelling from where ever to Newtonville.

Seven: I’ll be there.

Reason the last: Taco-ween Guitar Hero World Tour Edition could bring world peace. Is a World War something you want pinned on your Bumble-bound shoulders? I should think not.

This recent turn of events seriously endangers our blossoming friendship. Sure, you left a raincoat on your mailbox for me the other day – which was awesome. But what will happen if I need a winter coat in November? After ditching out on, what will undoubtedly be, the Halloween party of the year, I may not consider asking Andrew for a winter coat. In that case, we all loose. Especially the children. That’s right, Al. Think of the children! Those poor, unwashed mashes of weeping children with no food who will greatly benefit from our rock n roll stylins that evening. What will they do if you don’t show up in white pumps with a blond wig? I dare say they will cry. And they will cry enormous pools of blood stained tears yearning for food, education and, eventually, good jobs.

All of that can easily be accomplished with a simple decision: Attend a Halloween party in JP – with tacos. I’ve made my case. The rest is on you, Alex.

The rest is on you.

Yours in Taco-ween unity,

Brian

I’m too fat to be a hipster. Huge fan of black. Black shirts. Black jeans. Maybe a skinny black tie here and there, you know, if the mood strikes me and I can offset it with the right striped shirt. I can’t fit into American Apparel Clothing. My vintage graphic tees are kitschy instead of edgy. They definitely aren’t one of kind.

Square-framed glasses and a round face just don’t jive. Besides, I have perfect vision and filling frames with clear glass is something Klosterman would do.

Speaking of Chuck, I read his oeuvre cover to cover. When I finished I told anyone in ear shot that I completely disagree with any stance he’s ever taken. Well, except for his essay on Billy Joel – Glass Houses is a fucking masterpiece.

I’m losing a lot of my hair, so I can’t get a unique hair cut to match the undiscovered gems on my iPod that – though you’re all hipsters – even you’ve never heard.

And though my awkward, chubby and Old Navy clad appearance may might not the fit the bill, I’m willing to have a Hipster-off any time you want. I always win because I cheat. You’ve heard of the Republic Tigers? Yeah, I saw them on Conan, too. They did the late night circuit after I bought them all a beer one night. Name your bands. I’ve got more. Ever heard of ‘Internet Browser Tool Bar’ or ‘Orange Water Bottle’ or ‘Black Moth Super Rainbow’? You know why? I just made all of those band names up. Except for Black Moth. I saw them play after the Republic Tigers, natch.

Natch, incidentally, is a phrase I coined a while ago back stage at a rock show. I said it to the lead singer of a band you’ve played for someone to show them how deep you are. He took it as his own and used it on stage that night. It spread. Later, we drank Colt .45s and smoked a pack of American Spirits.

Even though I’m busy hanging out at all the same shows you’re at — and a bunch of shows you’ve never even heard of — I’m always the odd man out. Girl jeans always give me wedgies and skinny ties look ridiculous on a big body.

Have you even seen me in American Apparel? No, obviously you haven’t, because if you did, I’d be sixty pounds skinnier and you’d be propping me up as your totally independent minded, wildly well coiffed and blessed-with-the-ability-to-herd-hipsters-like-retarded-cats leader. But such dreams infrequently come true, and that makes me long for things in life that are far out of my reach. Like red headed Punk Rock Girls.

That longing, paired with my solidly white, middle class upbringing make us a perfect match, even though the jeans will never fit quite right.

But, come on, I’ve got the semi underground Chuck Taylors that you all still wear. They always look good with my Polo shirt.

Ironic, isn’t it?

There’s one other potential problem that I’ve been loath to mention until now, but it’s got to be said: Death Cab For Cutie still sucks.

See you at the next secret underground show. I’ll be the guy with my hands in my pockets who outwardly appears to be even less into the music than you.

Brian

I didn’t really care for either album this time around, but I was less harsh on them than some.

If you’d like to read the full review here, check out my Reviews and Freelance Work section.

Check out my review of Chris Evil and the Taints Wanna Kill Kill Kill.

No director, cameras, lighting, make-up or production? No problem.

These rockers decided to record themselves for free on local CCTV cameras. Then, in a stroke of brilliance, requested the video from operators using the Freedom of Information act. They weaved it all together and, ta-da, they had a music video.

I remember seeing this video a while back and thinking it was a really cool gimmick. I never got the full story of how the band brought this all together, but it does add something to the video. Say what you will about the music or the lead singers mustache, the video they created is pretty cool.

Check it out:

That’s OK, I thought, there’s still the world of online thesauri. First I tried the old standby, Thesaurus.com. I typed in ‘showcase’ then ‘show case’ and didn’t get a single result for either version. Well, actually, Thesaurus.com asked if I meant ‘show case’ instead of ‘showcase.’ Looks promising. Sure, I clicked, why not? No results came up.

After a couple of minutes of questioning Thesaurus.com’s ability to function as an actual thesaurus, I moved on to Merriam-Webster – that paragon of Word of the Day. Again I tried both ‘showcase’ and ‘show case.’ Again, I got no results. Well, almost no results. Merriam-Webster didn’t exactly say: ‘We ain’t found shit!’ But it was close.

Instead, it asked if I could’ve been searching for either of these two words:

Jocose
Sausage

Really. Sausage. Showcase. Jocose. Showcase. Sausage. Oh yeah, I can see how those might be related.

Fail.

The inaugural post on the site was my take on a remix of a Justin Timberlake song. Check it out if you haven’t read it: Wilford Back (Remix).

While I haven’t delved into Wilford lately… (Oh god. My eyes. Let me rephrase that.)

While I haven’t blogged about Wilford lately, he’s never been far from my thoughts — as if that surly attitude and bushy mustache could ever flutter from my thoughts.

But today, a Wednesday, he returns. Thanks to Gato Island for this real gem:

Five Cats that Look like Wilford Brimley.

For the love of God, please enjoy.