Sure, Terri Schiavo died today, yada yada, how sad is the massive loss of Mitch Hedberg? Herion overdose is the talk on the street, but nothing has been confirmed (as Herion overdoses often go). This dude changed comedy in a way that hasn't been seen since Andy Kaufman, in my opinion. He hadn't really hit the big time yet, but this guy was fucking hilarious to the max. Don't believe me? Check out these qutoes. Here are some of my faves:

"I used to do drugs. I still do drugs. But I used to, too."

"I love blackjack. But I'm not addicted to gambling. I'm addicted to sitting in a semi circle."

"You know that Pepperidge Farm bread, that stuff is fancy. That stuff is wrapped twice. You open it, and then still ain't open. That's why I don't buy it, I don't need another step between me and toast."

"Sometimes I fall asleep at night with my clothes on. I'm going to have all my clothes made out of blankets."

"My friend asked me if I wanted a frozen banana, I said 'No, but I want a regular banana later, so, Yeah.'"
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Remember that Hot Dog from The Naked Gun?
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BEHOLD! The greatest poster ever created


Also, since I know that's not enough awesomeness for you, check out this primo stash of K.I.T.T. sounds clips from Knight Rider... Michael. Two of my favorites;

"Michael! Watch out! I'm picking up an ........ (gun shots)"
"I am monitoring several guidance systems, Michael!.  This is an obvious trap."

Don't forget the classic K.I.T.T. scanning sound effect:

K.I.T.T. scan
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Hold the phones, we may have a challenger to the Denny's Meat skill. Check out the new kid on the Burger King block, the Enormous Omelet Sammich (hoagie?). This little slice of heaven weighs in at a hefty 730 calories, with 47 grams of phat. Sure, that doesn't even begin to step to (previoulsly 'watts approved) Monster Thickburger at 1,400 calories and 107 grams of fat, but it definitely frees us from the slavery of tiny-sandwich breakfast combos.

As a side note, it would appear that BK has found a new use for the oddly shaped Chicken Sandwich bun. The elogated eggs also appear to be a custom job.

Donnoe, as the official taste-tester of all things Monster, you ought to take this beast for a ride and let us know how it be.
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Too bad you won't be here next week homeboy. The Metro is having a free listening party for the new NIN disc at 7pm on Wednesday. Plus if you preorder at the event you get an exclusive 7-inch (apparently the only time it will be available) with the first single, B-sided with some unreleased track. Zang. I think I might go.
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I don't rave about my musical tendencies here on the Watts very often (that's Mike's baby), but every once in a while, I hear a great album, change my pants, and drop a post. Jason Forrest's The Unrelenting Songs of the 1979 Post Disco Crash, is a fine collection of experimental electronica, smothered in wild imagination. A wizard of samples, Forrest binds electronic fury with classic rock. Forrest stands as a model for turntablist/sample groups like the The Avalanches, but urinates on artists like DJ Z-Trip, who carelessy fuses house beats with pop dredge in an attempt to appeal to a wider audience and to club-going douche bags who live in L.A. With the track 10 Amazing Years, Forrest customizes The Who's Who Are You with genius. Given the recent interest in unique and unusual artists like The Books and Prefuse 73 on the Watts, everyone should dig this album.
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Witnessing the downfall of celebrities as they gasp for air in a sea of b-rated entertainment is as painful as it is amusing. But watching Darius Rucker of Hootie and the Blowfish in Burger King's latest Tenderscrisp Bacon Cheddar Ranch commercial made me want to download music. While I've never been a big Hootie fan, I have always felt they played some decent music. To see a musician fall to these depths is astounding. There are a lot of critics who acutally dig this commercial, noting its odd nature and witty take on The Wizard of Oz. The ad comes from the genius of Crispin Porter + Bogusky, a respectable ad agency in Miami, which also happens to be active with a couple of schools I have been considering. Regardless, I think this ad is terrible. Hootie, there are far better ways to completely humiliate yourself.
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Dave? Anybody heard from Dave lately? I haven't seen the guy post or comment in a few months, nor have I seen him on ye olde instant messenger. When he moved I never got his new, non-IU email addy or his phone number back home. ID, you talked to him?

Also Grant, where you be?
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This Terri Schiavo thing is beginning to get my nerves a little bit. It has consumed NPR for the last week and I'm ready for it to be over. If the woman wants to die, then that's her choice and I think you should let her.

It won't be long before pro-lifers put a "Vegetative State University" sticker right next to the one that says "Choosy Moms Choose Life." Actually, I could make some cash with that VSU thing. If I can't get rid of them at the Billy Graham event, I'm sure there are plenty of Widespread Panic fans that would adorn their vehicles.
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So if you haven't heard Davis will be back at IU next year. One note, there will be some target goals that should be met....hmmm. Going to the NCAA better be the low.

2nd and most important my main MAN is back to the Sweet 16 again and has a great chance for further advancment. TT is playing hot and fast, and with two premier guards and a third not far behind...they gonna give a fight for the Final Four. Give it up the General for his comeback, I've never left his side (mentally of course). Check out that link, he will forever look like the man who just ate your children alive...and I love him for it. I wish I could post pictures.
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Warp's mistake is now your gain. Their monthy e-mail newsletter was sent a few too many times and therefore... free music! Not only free music, but easily one of the bestest tracks on the new Prefuse73 joint, which came out yesterday by the way. This one features The Books and it be badass:

Prefuse73 - "Pagina Dos"

Lets hope the rumoured Prefuse73 / Books collab EP is this bonafide.
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I'm no actor, but I would like to declare myself eligible for any open "Skeeve-ball" roles in upcoming films. Trust me on this one, I can deliver a line such as "Don't worry I'll ____ (insert verb) yee, I'll ____ (verb again) yee real nice like," with the best of'em.

Much of my inspiration comes from Chris Elliot's brilliant role in Scary Movie 2, where he played the skeevy guy with the mutated hand that spit out genre-bending one-liners like "Can I help you there sweet chile?" and my personal favorite, "Take my good hand, chile." He really perfected the soft-voiced skeeviness that has come to embody my own personal skeeveball style.

Still, being exceptional skeevy is more than a voice, it's a look. What can I do to ensure myself a successful career as Hollywood's predominant skeeve-meister? It certainly wouldn't hurt to possess some kind of mutated body part. I'm open to ideas.

Oh, and Chris... thanks.
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An electronic sculpture representation of "Giant Steps." Seriously, just check it out.

Hat tip to The Agitator.
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All this steroid chatter going on definitely reminds me of the old-skool Ben Affleck HBO after school special A Body To Die For: The Aaron Henry Story. Has anyone ever seen this? It has some choice stereotypes, and even more choice lines. Let me see if I can recall a scene or two:

Roid Dealer, let's call him Jackie: Hey Affleck, you better watch how much juice you're popping or you might crash and burn.

Affleck: C'mon Jackie, the big game is coming up and I just need a pick-me-up.

(Jackie turns his back in disgust. After all, he's a roid dealer with a heart. He quickly jerks his head back around and says...)

Jackie: Don't you know this stuff shrinks your balls?

Affleck: Gimmie the juice man! (knocks over row of gym lockers)

Eventually Jackie gives him the juice and then we get the best roid rage workout montage ever committed to film. Aww man, it's fucking priceless. Please tell me that someone else out there has seen this. I remember that this special was the victim of a brilliant parody in that episode of Southpark where Timmy and Jimmy duke it out, and Jimmy uses roids to get an advantage.

There were other great episodes in this series, which I think was called Lifestories: Families in Crisis or something like that. I definitely remember another episode where Calista Flockhart played, you guessed it, a bulimic!
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Open discussion of the games today and through the weekend is on in the comments.
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Check out ESPN's statistical breakdown of worldwide bracket data right over nyah. Surprise, surprise, it's a dead heat between Illinois and North Carolina for the guestimated title.

I'm interested to see all of your foolish picks once the brackets fo public later this week. By the way, for those who haven't yet had a chance to...

JOIN THE GIGAWATTS LEAGUE

... you don't have much more time, so get on that shyit. You may need to create an account if you've never played a league on ESPN.com before (super-hella-easy to do). The info you need:

League name: 1.21 Gigawatts
Password: greatscott
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Scoping around the Internets I found a download of the Stars' "Ageless Beauty," previsouly mentioned in Byron's post earlier today. It's definitely a solid song, but from what I've heard it sounds nothing like the rest of the album, which is still damn good so far.

As long as I'm talking new music, head over to The Books' homepage and take a a listen to their latest acousti-glitch masterwork, a track called "An Animated Description of Mr. Maps" from the upcoming record Lost and Safe (click on the album name to hear the track).

By the way, drop by the Warp Records homepage and catch the new single from Prefuse 73, "Hideyaface" with Ghostface and El-p, from his upcoming set. Unfortunatly it's not a free download, but it is the background music for the website right now, so kick up those 'puter speakers.
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Like a bird on the wire,
like a drunk in a midnight choir
I have tried in my way to be free.
Like a worm on a hook,
like a knight from some old fashioned book
I have saved all my ribbons for thee.
If I, if I have been unkind,
I hope that you can just let it go by.
If I, if I have been untrue
I hope you know it was never to you.

Like a baby, stillborn,
like a beast with his horn
I have torn everyone who reached out for me.
But I swear by this song
and by all that I have done wrong
I will make it all up to thee.
I saw a beggar leaning on his wooden crutch,
he said to me, "You must not ask for so much."
And a pretty woman leaning in her darkened door,
she cried to me, "Hey, why not ask for more?"

-- "Bird on the Wire" by Leonard Cohen, from the album Songs from a Room
__________________________________________

[even longer than the previous one]

All in all, we've been good travellers but bad tourists. Never really one to "see the sights," instead resigning to wandering, occassionally happening across a point of interest. Fortunately for Minnesota farm boy and the alcoholic Indian (I collectively call them Camp Wierd), Munich's sights conveniently involve beer. Really, the city of Munich is like one big drinking game where I don't know all the rules. 5 to 6 liters later, I think I lost. And we mysteriously woke up in the Holiday Inn. I do remember the Weissbier being damn tasty.

I'm also not much of a hiker anymore, but Interlaken appeared to be so beautiful on the train ride in. So we got a good view of the area by hanggliding instead -- a cool 20 minutes after arrival, we were playing air tag with the paragliders. The bible verse at the beginning of the last entry probably most aptly describes this city between the lakes.

Contrary to popular opinion, the minor concussion was not related to the spill I took on the Moped. Naturally, I would eat shit on a fucking scooter, at the one busy intersection in all of Interlaken. The locals were too polite to honk but indignant enough not to help. I had a good view of Lee 50 yards down the road, laughing his ass off. I had to join in.

Perhaps we were looking too hard, but the hallucinogenic effects of Absinth must have been playing hide-and-seek on the streets of our minds (and of course we don't have a map). Three shots in, all we felt was drunk, with a bad taste in the mouth. But everything's cooler in Europe, so it was a good inebriation and I actually got Lee to go to the 5-story club in the center of Prague. Maybe he was feeling it. It is around 140 proof.

Hangovers must be a function of latitude or something, cause they've failed to dog us on this trip (famous last words). We still managed to hang on to our innate sense of bar time though, which is wholly inappropriate in places like Madrid, where dinner can end at midnight and clubs go til 8AM. "After hours" refer to places open past noon the next day. It happened to us again last night as we optimistically walked into a bar that had all of zero patrons. I see where this is going: it was only 9:30 PM. I think I'm beginning to catch on.

Imagine the view in every direction holds a whimsical and magnificent storybook castle or a stately tower or cathedral or a river. WWII apparently was relatively kind to Prague, sparing the grandeur and antiquity of the city, some of it dating back to the 9th century. The majesty of such constructions would make landmarking your location easy, if they weren't everywhere. The most striking feature of the city are the eyes, light and sparkling like champagne. I can only dream of what Prague looks like through a pair of them.

The concussion headache, which slightly troubled my trip down the river, eased comfortably into the cold Lee gave me. Maybe we shouldn't have cuddled on the night train into the former Eastern bloc. Anyway, as it turns out, besides wine and cheese, the French exported this zany activity called "canyoning." For us it took the form of a two-hour trek down some rapids -- rapelling, sliding, diving, swinging and swimming through the most potable water I've ever tasted. It was, after all, the Swiss Alps. I forgot to bottle some at the source.

Lee bought a man-purse. I'd continue to hurl stones, but my glass house is starting to lose stability. We've both done an impressive amount of shopping on this trip. This is all in relative terms because I DON'T SHOP. But everything really is cooler in Europe so we find clothes fit better and we're unabashedly bringing back eccentric European fashions. For instance, Lee bought some pants that can only be accurately described as "Pantelones en fuego." We've also established an entire nonsensical travel lexicon of our own. Ask me about Cocobongo.

Lee: "What day is it?"
Satya: "Ummm...August?"

Somewhere around the 7th bull, I think I started to pick up on the pomp and ceremony (not to mention demand for flourish) of bullfighting that Hemingway was so fond of. I could probably explain roughly the paramters of a good kill. Another reason to love Madrid is that it is home to my soccer team, Real Madrid. I've determined that they are the European football equivalent of my Yankees in the states: highly overpaid, over-celebritized, internationally despised, and in the end can't pull off a championship. Well, in the Yanks case it was coming out batting .128 as a team. I guess they're a few games ahead of Boston at the moment. They could rename parts of Spain: call it Uz-Beckham-stan or something cause his face is fucking everywhere, like some metrosexual currency.

It must be clever institutional sarcasm that placed the Museum of Communism next to a casino and above a McDonald's. While the aesthetical blessings of capitalism have been less than enthusiastically received, it's done wonders for the Czech Republic. Why there aren't hundreds of statues of Vaclav Havel around, I don't understand. The poet/playwright president: can you imagine? Maybe there will be when he goes the way of Reagan. This guy is a fucking champ.

I'm beginning to think a full exploration of Madrid may require it's own e-mail. Suffice it to say, we had our own personal guide, Oskar, who was gay to boot. He knew all about his city. The music of Prague may also require it's own. Throw in a music festival in Sweden and surprise concert at the Royal Albert Hall, and there's too much to write.

I'll end this episode by mentioning that Lee finished reading "Bringing Down the House" (which he swears is the first book he's read since 8th grade or something). We're currently in the process of putting together a team to count cards in Vegas. Applications will be accepted until the positions are filled.

Cheers.
_________________________________________________

[Classic lines from P.C.U. the movie]

Needleman: Don't be an idiot, of course it goes off.
Nosenthroat: That's what the refrigerator people tell you, but you don't know it for sure... Needleman: The second before you close it, you see it go out.
(from the original script)

Droz: That's the beauty of college these days, Tommy. You can major in GameBoy if you know how to bullshit.

BD: America's greatest President.
Rand: Dammit! Who is Ronald Regan.
BD: A casual shoe for yachting.
Rand: What are you trying to figure out BD? Who could I be? What is a Bluker.
BD: They killed Jesus Christ.
Rand: Who are the Jews! Open up, suck-o!

George Clinton: Funk you very much too! Come on, let's get outta here.
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New Music Alert! Last Friday Brie and I saw Apostle of Hustle and Stars at Birdy's here in Indy. As I had been told Apostle sucked. Brie said that it looked like Peter Pan had formed a band by all the crazy dancing jumps the lead singer did. The are also a prime example that a band NEEDS a bass player, or at least a reasonable facsimile like a low end keys player. 2 guitarists, a drummer and some random girl who plays cowbell and tap dances (that's right... tap dances) isn't.

After this onstage debacle everyone who stuck around was duely rewarded. I have been hearing minor rumblings of buzz about this band Stars and they were the main draw that brought me to this show, me and about 30 other people. We were the luckiest 30 people in Indy on Friday night. Stars more than lived up the the buzz, in fact they blew it away. Rockin songs, witty crowd banter, and downing Knob Creek straight from the bottle let to them getting two thumbs up from me. The new album "Set Your Self On Fire" is about breaking down and breaking up, typical indie/emo/whatever-the fuck, but they do it with style. Introducing songs with tags like: "This song is dedicated to the person that you simultaneously wanted to fuck and kill from when you were 12 to 18", seems a little over the top, but when they deliver it makes a less than ironic kind of sense.

I strongly recommend that all of you go out and pick this album out as soon as possible. So far it is number one on my 2005 list, and in 9 months I have a strong feeling you will see it on a lot more than just mine. Check out their single "Ageless Beauty" on their website. Set yourself on fire. Let them watch you burn. They will miss you when you're gone.
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Okay, bad Jay-Z reference. But via Fly Bottle, I found this neat tool to create one's "geographical experience of America."

Here's mine:

bold the states you've been to, underline the states you've lived in and italicize the state you're in now...

Alabama / Alaska / Arizona / Arkansas / California / Colorado / Connecticut / Delaware / Florida / Georgia / Hawaii / Idaho / Illinois / Indiana / Iowa / Kansas / Kentucky / Louisiana / Maine / Maryland / Massachusetts / Michigan / Minnesota / Mississippi / Missouri / Montana / Nebraska / Nevada / New Hampshire / New Jersey / New Mexico / New York / North Carolina / North Dakota / Ohio / Oklahoma / Oregon / Pennsylvania / Rhode Island / South Carolina / South Dakota / Tennessee / Texas / Utah / Vermont / Virginia / Washington / West Virginia / Wisconsin / Wyoming / Washington D.C /

Go HERE to have a form generate the HTML for you.
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On ESPN,Click Here and you should be able to set up your team with the 1.21 Gigawatts Group.

I love this game.

If it doesn't work, which is likely, then just go to the espn website and search for the group in Private. The password is greatscott.
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Does anyone know a website where I can pick up the live radio broadcast of the IU game (or the tourney in general) tomorrow during the day?

Here's a list of stations in Indiana that allegedly carry IU games. Which one is it?
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I recently discovered the greatest website ever: http://www.morphases.com/editor/ It will waste your time, so beware. The site allows you to choose from a database of faces (portraits) and manipulate and/or add features. Surprisingly, I found a picture of Jared's mom in the database. Jared, that was nice of her to participate in this fascinating site.

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So we've come to the time of the year when the Conference tourneys are beginning, but more importantly it is Bubble Time. neer, neerneerneer, neerneer, neerneer Bubble time. Anyway, it is normally a useless and decidedly boring banter between every single sports analyst that exists...normally, except that for the first time since I've lived IU is a bubble team (last year being the first year they've had no chance, and every other year being undoubtedly a member of the tourney.

In either case, I previously had predicted that IU would have to beat Illinois in the Big Ten Tournament (win two games), to make it into the NCAAs. But what's this I see?? Indiana is now projected to be IN. What's more is Minnesota isn't even mentioned on the Bubble, but is an IN team. What does this mean, my fine young IU hysterics....that all they need to do is conquer Minnesota, which they have done, should have done twice, and will do easily once more.

Call it unbelievable, but I don't believe it. After seeing the the Northwestern game up here, I actually gave IU no chance at reaching the NIT. I thank Allah and this man for the change. We all know it wasn't Davis...and he still pains me. Although I love being positive and all, do you know that he has been quoted as saying that the team is already in. It was in the paper. For God sakes...right when you need your team to work its hardest, the man is going to go out and in less words say that these games don't matter because we are already in the NCAA. Fuck man, BUBBLE!!! "MUST WIN!! All that DOESN'T MATTER, we are just going to go out and win this next game!!" say that shit.

Forget about him and everyone else, as long as we can keep Bracey from shooting any shot but an open one or a one on one drive..all you need to do is just grab these as you will need them if you want to see IU live.

GO IU!!
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And not only so, but also that He hath guided his people by his strength to his holy habitation, and planted them in the mountain of his inheritance.
--Psalms 80.13, 15
_____________________________

[Be forewarned, this is a long one].

Have you all heard of the movie "The Day After Tomorrow?" Of course you have, cause it's fucking everywhere. Now Drudge Report is reporting that it smashed all opening day expectations. If Al Gore is schilling for it, it must be as much an absolute pile of propangandistic schlock Hollywood can muster.

Since we're on the subject, they're appearance in Barcelona was straight out of a bad Pedro Almodovar film. We were killing some time in front of our hostel, which was right on the beach by the way (hat tip to Erika). Finishing our cigarettes, I noticed a cute, tan Spanish girl walking towards us smiling and waving, as purposeful and stridently oblivious as one could be. Christina and Jonna hung out with us in London and Amsterdam and said they'd meet up with us in Barcelona. I didn't know exactly when and where. They mentioned they'd try to find the same hostel, but our inquiry at the front desk said they had no such booking. Uncanny they'd find us while sitting on the beach. C'est la vie.

Also unexpectedly, our trip to Paris and Bordeaux turned up rather friendly people and very minimal anti-American snobbery. Perhaps I've got these cheese-eating surrender monkeys all wrong. But stereotyping is so much fun.

I've decided I'm in love with the Spanish language. Especially the lispy Spanish they speak here. Or maybe I'm just in love with the language, people and culture of Spain, all mixed together in my head into one appetizing mental paella dish. This is in contrast to the German I took in college. Na klar! Naturlich Deutsch ist nicht so romatisch.

For all the misuses of the word irony, perhaps this actually qualifies: in the few instances where I try to make an effort to put together a sentence in the native tongue, no one understands what the fuck I'm saying until I just break down and say it in English. Does postcards arriving three days after I have come back also qualify? How about finding instrument stores just in time to watch them close down? I've been going nuts without a horn or a guitar.

Not so much ironic, but pretty damn funny, Lee's phone was a casualty of...well, walking. His phone fell out of his bag as he was hustling across a busy avenue in Barcelona. I noticed it just in time to for him to turn around and witness the parade of cars run over it. I didn't get my camera out in time to capture the priceless look on his face.

Some of you expressed some interest in my birthday hijinx. It was a "pub crawl," in the truest sense of both those words. The contrasts still continue -- the more high strung I get, the more laid back Lee gets. But he busted out on my birthday, which we celebrated on our second night in Barcelona, the night of June 1st. Uncharacteristically, he jumped up on a stool in perhaps the second or third bar of the night, and yelled to the crowd to listen up. Declaration of my birthday made, henceforth the drinks proceeded from steady faucet stream to hurricane torrent. Naturally, I didn't pay for any of it. Somewhere in the night was a dance club, a bottle of champagne, and a romp on the beach, all unaccounted for in my brain's accountability file...although the evidence of the beach was in my bed and hair the next day. I should've known where the evening was going: we had decided, along with the girls from Boulder we met, that we absolutely wouldn't do shots of Tequila. As we walked up to the first stop on the pub crawl, we noticed the bar was named "Tequila."

Our three day stay in Barcelona turned into a hearty five, and we didn't see one of the goddamn sights. Lee's phone got killed on the way to the Olympic Village -- he had little impetus for sight-seeing after that. I am, however, quite familiar with the beaches of Barcelona...and hash.

Lee remarked a couple nights ago, on a long walk back from the clubs, that Christina would probably marry him if he asked her, which was a slightly frightening proposition (pun fully intended) to both of us. Her sister Jean-Marie was not as fully enraptured by my wit, but I knew I'd endure certain punishment from her when after remarking (and not without deliberate intellectual placement) that I had just started to read Sophacles' Antigone, she retorted "I love that play more than 'Oedipus the King.' I've read it twice.," going on to cite specific lines. Tou-fucking-chè! I quickly tried to mitigate the unqualified awe, manifest in my lower jaw resting comfortably on the floor:

"I'm a Republican," I blurted out.
"I figured," she replied after a short pause. "It doesn't bother me." Lord have mercy!

The Cubanissima Calientè was named Melissa, and her blonde friend Annette. They were dancers at the University of Florida. They had choreographed routines for most Top 40 songs, so as the DJ cued up Usher, we waited in anticipation. We weren't disappointed. They were visiting their friend Christian. You may know him better as Christian Drejer, star guard for the University of Florida basketball team who left mid-season, right before the tournament, to play professionally in Spain. I have his number on my phone -- in case anybody wants to call and harass him. Florida totally screwed my bracket.

It's been:
London -- Amsterdam -- Paris -- Bordeaux -- Madrid -- Barcelona -- Venice.

We still have:
Interlachen -- Munich -- Prague -- London -- Hultsfred Festival -- London -- New York.

Told you it was a long one. I didn't even talk about Madrid. Oh mein Gott!
_______________________________
"Politics is not a bad profession. If you succeed there are many rewards, if you disgrace yourself you can always write a book."

"We have every right to dream heroic dreams. Those who say that we're in a time when there are no heroes, they just don't know where to look."

--Ronald Reagan

Raise your glasses for the Gipper.
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Chicago Public Radio's Eight-Forty-Eight had a great piece today discussing the future of the the CTA's El service. Check out the map below (and many more maps, along with the full story here), which is just one idea for the future of the El (circa 2055).

Of course, first CTA officials need to figure out what to do about the $55 Million hole in their budget. More than anything else, I think Chicago needs an outer-loop train serviceing the west, southwest and northwest sides. It's a huge pain in the ass to ride all the way down into the loop just to transfer and head to the any particular side of city. In my opinion that's part of the reason that El ridership is so slow outside of rush hour. If you give people a reason to use the El during all hours of the day, and provide service that links socially significant, night-life neighborhoods then I think riders will respond.
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Baseball season is right around the corner, and since I'm now officially a Chicagoan I feel like I should choose which baseball team I will represent. This is a tough decision, because I haven't really paid much attention to baseball at all in recent years. Growing up I liked the Tigers, the Cubs and the Mets for the most part, but living in Indy makes it tough to choose one's allegiance, since so many team are nearby.

So, Sox or Cubs? That is the question of the day. Let's examine the pros and cons of each:

Cubs
PROS:
- One of the most historic franchises in baseball history
- A die-hard fanbase
- Old Style
- It's in Wriglyville, and that's a "Nice" part of town
- Every damn person in Chicago likes them

CONS:
- Every damn person in Chicago likes them
- Tickets are practically impossible to get
- The Cubies? Cute name
- They are easily the biggest fairweather team in all of pro sports
- According to some Cubs fans, most cubs fans "Don't know shit about baseball" because "They just come to the games to chit chat, drink beer and act like it's a fucking Dave Matthews Band show"

White Sox
PROS:
- My pops was a Sox fan growing up
- Tickets are always available, beer and hot dogs are cheap
- It's only a few train stops from the office, so day games are a possibility.
- the Sox are Ghetto

CONS:
- The Sox are Ghetto
- People will look at me weird for not liking the Cubs (also a good thing)
- Unlike the Cubs, the money is not there to bring in big name free agents year after year (doesn't mean the Cubs actually do it, they just have the money to).
- There are no good bars near the Stadium

I'm open to your opinion, but make haste. The season starts soon and I must pledge my allegiance.
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[Int.] A small cable access TV stage. Two chairs, in an interview show setup are visible with a lone black man occupying the one on the left. Lights are dim and slowly come up to reveal the host.

Host: Hello, it's 3:13 in the AM, and that means you're watching "Perspectives." I'm your host, Lionel Osbourne.

-----------------------------------------

It could have been the wind tunnel, hangar like structure of the Amsterdam Central Station, or the lackadaisical pace of the cranes just outside in the harbour, repetitively moving lumber for some purpose or another. Either way, Satya realized this was the first real break he had had since arriving in Europe. Or maybe it was the Moroccan mushrooms digested just prior -- whatever.

Expecting a trip to Europe to be one continent-sized game of charades, he was disarmed by the relative English fluency of Europeans, especially Scandanavians...somewhat disappointing, but it made finding a place to rest one's head after arriving around midnight much less tiring.

So far it's been a trip of contrasts, or some other such cliche. Certain muscles have atrophied (e.g. stomach area: stupid spaghetti carbonara) while others (especially around the shoulder) continue to tone. I'm surrounded by enviable cuisine but we've resigned to eating McDonald's more times in the last week than I have in the last two years. We were fortunate enough to be accompanied by two sisters on one leg of our journey, the beautiful children of Spanish parents, with the reckless fiscal abandon of being born and raised in Los Angeles. For such a fashion-forward region of the world, most clubs and bars have some unhealthy disposition towards 1980s American pop music. The persons with Candian flags on their packs act cautiously American. You're suspect! The smells of Parisian streets assault the pedestrian like swirling colors of a de Kooning or Pollock painting, unsure which olfactory color to latch on to because most of them are offensive. Maybe this explains why Paris is home to so many fine perfumes.

We got into Madrid last night/this morning. It's fitting that I couldn't point out the exact day we arrived, instead straddling that nether region of of the day planner that is midnight, because we were physically exhausted by this point, but instantly energized by the unending bar hopping of Madridites. Seriously, we finally left the bar at around 5 AM, and people were still filing in. The night ended as we watched the Timberwolves go down in defeat in Game 4. There's an uncanny number of Minnesota fans here, or maybe just that particular bar. The first place we stopped was a bar/club specializing n Flamenco and Salsa. It was humbling to see an entire room cooperatively clapping out the subtle and fragile clave of the music like some young Tito Puente proteges.

On the train ride over, the view was as expected and beautiful as one can imagine. Right down to the homely girl riding a 1920s-era bicycle through the fields alongside the train, over a moss-covered footbridge. Fantastic.

London was expensive, Amsterdam was exhausting, Paris was......Bordeaux was charming (although I'm sure we would have seen another side of this town had Monaco beaten Portugal in the European soccer championship) and Madrid is energizing.

Then came the news that Phish is over. "This has all been wonderful, but now I'm on my way."

Finally, I noticed that most of the conversations of people in the big cities seem so much more interesting than any of mine. Maybe this is how it is in New York City, but it's been too long since I cared to notice.

Our next stop is Barcelona. The Hultsfred Festival (www.rockparty.se) has been booked for mid June--we're there.

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Host: The time is now 3:19 in the AM, and you've been watching "Perspectives." I'm your host Lionel Osbourne. Stay tuned at 3:23 AM, for our Spanish language show, "Los Perspectivos."
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Because there has been such a dearth of posts, I've decided to put up my handful of varying length journal e-mails I composed during my 5-week-ish trip to Europe last Summer. I've gone back and forth on this, but at this point, with such a slow dirge of new content on this site, I'm hoping that "something" is in fact better than "nothing." If not, then boo-urns to me.

Originally I had put Ma (Bell) Hicks on the recipient list, hoping that he might see fit to post them here himself as I sent them. I soon realized, however, I had provided little incentive for him to do the extra work of putting them together for me, and he didn't really owe anything.

So here they finally are, posted intermittently throughout the next couple days. Read as much you wish, but please do not read more than you can eat....or something. Anyway, if you transport yourself back to last Summer (June mostly), and I pretend I'm paying 2 euros a minute at an easyInternetcafe, then it'll be like we're creating a collaborative time warp to a simpler time, when life was a little slower, a time when people said "hello."
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My roommate's birthday was this past weekend and we all went out to a killer freestyle hip hop bar down the street called Ten Fifty-Six. Anyway, while there I met this Jeff (?) dude who works for Wilco's manager Tony Margherita. He mentioned asking Jeff Tweedy for his opinion Bright Eyes, and apparant-leee the Tweed is not a fan because they are "Angsty." You were once a strapping young buck on the tortured songwriter scene yourself there Jeff-o.

By the way, the new country-ish Bright Eyes record smokes the last Wilco disc. Newsweek* says that "Each song is like a complete thought, with nothing more, or less, than necessary." I say Conor Oberst is growing up and peeling off that emo thing like an old sunburn. One of my favorite tracks of the year so far for your listening (dis)pleasure...

Bright Eyes - "Another Travelin' Song"

Here's another great track from the album, with the Oberst lyrical prowess right up front: "Lua". You'll find that one a and few other tracks on the freshly updated your kids are gonna love it.

*Bitches best recognize the authoritarian state. That's right boy, I said Newsweek's music section.
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The NYtimes has a nice feature piece on the most expensive album ever made, and never released - G'n'f'n Roses Chinese Democracy.

Geffen wasn't in much of a position to prod him forward, either. In 1997 Todd Sullivan, who was then a talent executive for the company, sent Mr. Rose a sampling of CD's produced by different people, and encouraged him to choose one to work on "Chinese Democracy." Mr. Sullivan says he received a call informing him that Mr. Rose had run over the albums with a car.

Some stats on the record:

- 1,000 rumoured digital audio tapes documenting song progress
- $13 million in production costs so far
- 11 years in the making
- 3 Recording Studios
- 4 Producers
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BBspot... got the goods. Check out their top 11 PC tech tips. Personal favorites:

9. Computer cases, like aquariums, can become dirty and develop a layer of scum on their inside. To keep your computer scum-free, it is a good idea to buy a few snails from the local pet store and place them inside.

6. If your computer is locking up, it's because it's tired and sleepy. Pour some fresh-brewed coffee on the motherboard to wake it up.

2. Make your own wireless devices. All you need to do is install the recommended wireless card then you can cut the wires off your keyboard and mouse with a regular pair of scissors.

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ya right, I'm sure he was a toker. But big fuckin deal, no one should care...except the fact that he's a damn conservative tight ass and wants to now crack down on everything. Bull shit born agains...

Seriously though, the only thing that bothers me about the whole thing is his increased stupidity a la, "I wouldn't answer the marijuana question. You know why? Because I don't want some little kid doing what I tried." Hmm...I know why now...because you're a fucking Dumbass. Oh ya, I guess this picture pretty much sums it up. I can't seem to upload it, so just click.
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If only it were possible to see them all, Macky-approved concert events:

3/8 - Troubled Hubble - Schubas
3/11 - Interpol - Aragon Ballroom (w/ Carlos D doing a DJ set at Smart Bar afterwards)
3/11 - Diplo - Sonotheque
3/12 - Apostle of Hustle - Empty Bottle
3/13 - Olsen/Louris (Jayhawks) - Park West
3/18 - Ulrich Schnauss - Open End Gallery
3/31 - Bloc Party - Metro
4/20 - Iron and Wine - House of Blues
4/30 - Dizzie Rascal - Double Door
5/6 & 5/7 - Nine Inch Nails - Congress Theatre
5/7 - The Books - Hutch Commons
5/12 & 5/13 - Prefuse 73 - Empty Bottle
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