“The mind’s a great place to have an idea, but a crappy place to hold it.”—David Allen, who makes a linchpin argument for keeping a stack of yellow legal pads around the house. (Oh, and you’re so welcome for your new tagline, Staples.)
“I had a dream about a tiny baby spider baboon (a baby baboon with eight furry legs, like a normal spider, and two arms, like a normal ape) with a huge belly, asleep in the grass and drunk on beer. He was an orphan and found a home on my left shoulder. He had a bad temper and ate a lot. I’m awake, he’s gone and now I miss him.”—My friend, Anna, who takes seriously good cold medicine before she falls asleep.
“Some tribe in the future, far in the future, might find a pistol, perhaps the world’s last pistol, and one hundred rounds of ammunition. The priests of that tribe, in tribute to the unknown, might invent a holiday and fire one bullet each year as a link to the unknown. After ninety years, it isn’t difficult to imagine that a new bull might be put forth that shots were to be fired only every hundred years, at the expiration of which time the something extraordinary might be foreseen to occur.
“And perhaps at the expiration of nine hundred years a new bull might go forth to the effect that the last round never was to be expended—that the tribe would choose to worship potentiality in their artifacts rather than uselessness.
“But our tribe has fired the last round and our only link to the possibility of powers greater than ourselves is the useless gun, the essential element we no longer possess. And since our priests have fired off that last round, they have expended any possible link to the past, as such a memory would surely cause us pain. Therefore, our dead rituals are rituals of denial. They concern not potential but lack, and express contempt—contempt, mainly for ourselves, and for our urge to celebrate.”
Hey guys. Yeah, thanks for asking, but last night’s date went horribly. For a while, I was all charming and the Alternagrrl with short bangs really seemed to like my indie rock outfit and the fact that I own a sewing machine. So it was all in the bag, right?
For Future Reference™:
Don’t forget to turn off your phone on a first date.
See, evidently, that’s “creepy" and you’re some sort of "creep" and only "creeps" do that sort of thing in ways that are "really creepy”. Oh yeah, Alternagrrl? Well maybe you should pick up a thesaurus while you’re racing out the door with your bag of yarn and knitting needles, what do you think about THAT?*
(*People keep asking, so no no, there wasn’t a date for real. See, the whole premise is all set up for the joke about the ringtone. It’s a bit. Try to keep up, people. Chop chop.)
“If you wish to make an apple pie from scratch, you must first invent the universe.”—Carl Sagan, from the amazing, still incomparable COSMOS series. (And from my friend Anna, who just told it to me because she kicks ass). Damn straight, Carl. Damn straight.
OKAY I’VE GOT IT: This whole ‘economy tanking’ thing is sort of like the collecting Beanie Babies™ craze of the late 90s/early 00s. People were batshit insane to collect the fuschia one with the glittery, embroidered heart patch, even if it meant paying a LOT of money on ebay or killing family members.
NOW, of course, those things aren’t even worth the space in the plexiglass BullshitCollectorBoxes™ they’re taking up. And Aunt Lois isn’t coming back from the dead. So I guess I’m thinking that we must’ve THOUGHT we knew how much things were worth, intrinsically, but we were just plain wrong.
Except that, in this case, the Beanie Babies™ devalu-caust is global. And it’s about the devaluing of Justabouteverything™, not just Beanie Babies™. And, if my thinking is right, we should now be able to use all those thousands upon thousands of Beanie Babies™ as Legal Tender in any country, which is my official stance.
Yes, Raspberry Beret. The entire album is chock-full of Prince covers. Amazing, wonderful, brilliant Prince covers, all brought to you by the new guy in Yo La Tengo, James McNew. He’s been the new guy for about 17 years now.
for those who donate - a compilation disc titled Tom, named for Tom Scharpling, a track-for-track covers album paying tribute to Paul McCartney’s Ram by Death Cab for Cutie, Ted Leo, Portastatic, Danielson, Aimee Mann, Dump (better known as James McNew of Yo La Tengo), Spider Bags, James Pants, Black Hollies, and other various bands. [ Awesome -ed. ]
Holy crap. People, if you don’t already know the McCartney's original RAM, you really, really should. One of my most favorite albums. Alll this also brings to the surface Dump's That Skinny Motherfucker With The High Voice, which is also one of my very, very favorite albums. Embedded track to follow shortly. Holy mackerel. Today seems to be an auditory confluence of Awesome.
“When I am working on a problem, I never think about beauty. I only think about how to solve the problem. But when I have finished, if the solution isn’t beautiful, I know it is wrong.”—Richard Buckminster Fuller (1895-1983), who seems to Get It. I wish I did more than I do.