Return of the Overblown, Overhyped Karaoke Show

It's that time of year again. It's the start of a several-month long stretch in which families everywhere will burn their eyeballs out in front of the television for at least four hours a week watching what I can only think they believe is the most brilliant phenomenon ever to grace television.

That's right. You know what I'm talking about. The Overblown, Overhyped Karaoke Show is back in full force, complete with a new cast of completely untalented, spoiled fuckheads vying to become the next entirely unsatisfying industry stooge. I'd like to derail for just a minute and say that I was flipping through channels the other day and I caught Sanjaya Indian Guy on the TV Guide channel. He was asked by another alum of the show what he thought about the tour that plagues the nation during the summer after the Karaoke Show. His response, which I can only paraphrase because I have to minimize my exposure to that adorably flamboyant little boy, made me first shit myself with laughter and then cry actual, genuine tears of dispair: "The best part of being on tour was being able to perform with all these talented musicians."

WHAT THE FUCK?!

Before my afforementioned laughter and tears, I literally staggered backwards a few steps. That's how baffled and blown away by the lunacy of that statement I was. "Musicians"? Fuck me in the face! In all honesty, I shouldn't react so harshly; this is good news for the world. I've been playing guitar, singing, writing, and more recently, playing shows, a little of the keyboard and recording music for the last few years of my life now, and all of those things were done in vain when I could have instead walked into a run-down karaoke bar, hopped in front of a microphone to wail a chopped-up 90-second version of an already shitty song and been able to legitimately call myself a musician. Woe is me; I have wasted the five years of my life. Thank you, Sanjaya, for showing me the folly of my ways.

Anyways, I think the appeal to that travesty of a reality show, which shall not be mentioned here, was "Oh my God, here's the catch - you can vote who you want to win!" You know what else you can vote for? The fucking president. Try voting for that and maybe we wouldn't have been stuck with an idiot cowboy for eight years. Fact: more people voted for American Music Industry's Bitch than voted in the presidential elections. (Do I need citation for that? Is it really that hard to believe?) It's just incredibly sad to me that people have a bigger commitment to a pop star who will do absolutely nothing for the world but make it an even more irritating place to live in* to the point where you spend every Wednesday night from January to May repeatedly dialing a phone number, but you can't be bothered to drag your ass to the polls once every four years to help make a decision that matters.

Look, I'm not saying that watching this show automatically makes you dumb (well...yes, I am.) All kidding aside, I'm a sensible guy. There's a place for good, clean family television and at least it serves as a way for families to come together. But two to three nights a week, for an hour each, coupled with a nearly zombie-like dedication to retarded pop stars? Fuck me, that is so sad.

*That, and make one horrible record that doesn't even sell the way it was expected to before mysteriously dropping off the planet never to be seen outside of shitty talk shows.

Cloverfield was awesome.

Thank God.

I just robbed the internet.

So I've had a pretty wonderful day on the internet today, and I feel like a thief. Despite being completely flat broke, I have had the fortune of procuring these items this weekend online.

1. Samsung Sync phone. My contract with AT&T (boo) needs to be renewed, meaning I'm due for an upgrade. A word to the wise: Always upgrade through Amazon.com. In the store, this would cost me $120, and with rebates, maybe down to $50. Online, this phone cost me precisely one penny because I was renewing my contract or some shit. Free two-day shipping too. Before anyone asks (which they won't, as a matter of fact) I do know a lot about this phone beforehand. A buddy of mine has it, and I've seen videos of its functionality. It features video (including streaming TV), an MP3 player that I will almost certainly use not even once, and a camera that takes such crystal clear pictures that it would make a baby cry and say, "Waaa, too crystal-clear." I feel like I just screwed AT&T out of a little money, and we all know them fuckers deserve it.
   
2. USB data cable for the phone. Usually these are about $15-$20, but I found one for $0.02 on eBay with $4 shipping. (Man, I'm good.) It also comes with a CD with 10,000 graphics on it and some ringtones, as well as the software to actually manage the phone.
   
3. Three Cowboy Bebop CD's, which only cost me $5 each. Those shits are impossible to find for reasonable prices (or so I thought) but I guess I lucked out. They're in brand-new condition too. Ah, I love the Seatbelts.
4. A new power plug for my laptop. Alright, I cheated a bit; my dad bought that for me. Hopefully this one won't catch fire, which is kind of important to me in buying appliances.

So yeah, with all the bargains I lucked into this weekend I feel like I just robbed the internet. I'm a happy panda today.

Stop wearing bullet-proof vests, before someone actually shoots you.

So I'm in the library at school and I have to stifle a laugh. Someone in here is wearing something that looks suspiciously like a bullet-proof vest.

Ah, what a statement! Now keep in mind, I don't know shit about fashion (then again, neither do most brilliant people) but even I know how fucking ridiculous this is. But I'm not ragging on this in terms of a fashion statement; I'm ragging on it because the very concept is fucking stupid. Why the fuck would anyone wear this? It's as if to say, "I'm such a bad-ass motherfucker that I have enemies everywhere who want to shoot me on a community college campus in a place that doesn't even crack the top 25 most dangerous cities in America, but that is ten minutes outside #14 on the list of the safest ones." There are two things that I feel it's my civic duty to bring to this asshole's attention (and indeed, any asshole that thinks this trend is cool.) Pay attention, because I'll only say it once.

1. Everyone knows you're ripping off 50 Cent. And the irony of it is, you're ripping off something that wasn't even cool to begin with it. It was stupid when he did and it's even stupider when you do it, especially since, once again, you live ten minutes outside a suburban city so safe that the only time a cop has drawn a gun in 50 years is to put down a suffering deer. Which directly ties into my next point:
   
2. No one wants to shoot you.* No one even knows who you are. You're not significant enough to get shot. You're not actually dangerous; you just think you are. You have no enemies; if you do, they are figments of your imagination and everyone knows that despite basic second amendment rights, there is a loophole that prohibits figments of the imagination from obtaining gun licenses and, subsequently, guns themselves.

Update: I also feel the need to let you know that five minutes after I wrote this I heard this retard answer the phone. Now, I don't like to eavesdrop, but God save me I just couldn't help myself. Oddly enough he spoke with the same drunken drawl as 50, and even had a (incredibly fake) grill. I had to run to bathroom so I could laugh. Everyone probably thought I was about to shit myself but I don't even care.

*or at least they didn't before you started wearing retarded bullet-proof vests. Good job, dipshit; now people will actually want to test it out. Joke's on you when it doesn't work.

Lunacy!

Well, I can't say I've kicked off '08 quite the way I've wanted to, but everything seems to be peachy at the moment. So a few nights ago, the night before I left to go out of town to Hilton Head (I don't even want to get started on Hilton Head, so I won't) I reunited with a good friend of mine, one Nick Dowden. Nick and I used to jam together and were in the process of forming a band when the fat fuck had to move out of town. Fortunately, he's only a few hours away and thus has the opportunity to come into town on occasion, though not as often as I'd like.

Anyways, I was showing Fats around my (very meager) music recording shit and we started playing around with the MIDI keyboard. Before long I had accidentally come up with something mildly cool; really just a phrase. I told him to start playing shit on the keyboard with me and about three hours later we had about finished a 1:15-long track (I wish it were longer; I might have to make that happen) that is very odd and features: a Koto run through various flanges and shit, a completely unrhythmic timpani that sounds like it features two two-year-olds (one trying to tune it and one banging on it randomly), some computer noises, and (my personal favorite) Nick making weird whispers and gutteral noises into the microphone.

I present it to you here. But be forewarned, it's fucking STRANGE.

»Download: Lunacy (Dowden Was Here)