Creep Cabaret

Thanks to Haw-ehd (Stern) for this one. It's very nice.



I love hah.

Victory

I just made 100 of these little doo-dads. They're sandwich cookies, so that means 200 times (if you don't count the last 8 I burned in the oven while heating up lunch) I cut out the shapes, dipped them in egg, then into colored sugar ... before being baked, cooled, and glued together with buttercream.

I got the recipe from my Omi a couple of years ago, and have since made them with my family members', including Omi's, help. But this is my first attempt on my own. They were puffier than hers, so I didn't roll out the dough thin enough and probably didn't let the dough rest long enough; but man, they are light as a feather and sure are tasty.

So I'm pretty pleased right now; if not totally exhausted.

What a bunch of Hobos.

I love it when I fall in love with a band so hard that it takes all I have to keep from talking about them ... all. the. friggin'. time.

I hate it when said band is fronted by a very dear friend, so it sounds like sycophancy of the highest degree if I publish good press about them.

But let's face facts. This is neither the Times nor the Trib. It isn't even the Post. Hell, my only audience is my family and friends ... so screw it.

Therefore, in absolutely no disingenuous terms, let it be understood that The Hobo Wives have been one of my new favorite bands since last April when I first heard them all together at the Lemmons show.

I'd heard their rough tracks before the show; but once they took the stage, it became obvious that the talented outfit's fabric was so tight-knit that the songs pretty much play themselves. The songwriting is stellar, the sound is incredibly rich and completely alive, and all of the musicians and vocalists are, in a word, gifted. Since then, I just can't seem to get enough of the lush melodies and jangly guitars that tell their alt-twangy melancholy tales of woe.

It's not completely unrelated that I have always appreciated and very much believed in Matt Kahler's songwriting since we met. After 10 years of friendship, a 400 mile move to the north, and a rich compilation of competent musicians and vocalists in his arsenal, he seems to have finally found solid footing as the musician I always knew resided within.

As a friend, I couldn't be happier for him. Personally, I couldn't be happier for me; and no, not just with the satisfaction that comes with being right. Their brand of southern-fried rock is just what the doctor ordered to soothe the aches that accompany these days of financial uncertainty.

It's relatable, believable, and damn catchy.

Which is why I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if we heard a lot more from this group once they're finished in the studio and start out on tour.

Until then, please to enjoy their available tracks on MySpace:
http://www.myspace.com/thehobowives

Feelin' Kinda ...

The first time I saw Patton Oswalt live was the stuff of legend.

Wait ... let's go back.

The first time I saw Patton Oswalt ever was a repeat of his Comedy Central special, "No Reason To Complain" on TV. This after being reassured that, "No, no, he's really good," after my arched-eyebrowed query, "uh ... isn't that the dude from 'King of Queens?"

He is easily the funniest person I've ever seen; certainly one of the funniest comics, and quickly became my favorite. Call it blasphemy, but even more so than Bill Hicks or the other obvious choices. What can I say, this guy speaks with a voice that I understand. And he has killer timing, and works the hopeless, nerdy schlub thing so deftly in his favor.

So shortly after "No Reason," the "Comedians of Comedy" series aired on Comedy Central. I was addicted. On their own, I can do without the antics of the in(s)ane Bamford, the toilet-obsessed Posehn, and the hell-bent-for-leather-on-being-"out-there" Galifanakis; but as the team behind Oswalt, the series never failed to disappoint.

So in the spring of 2006 when it was announced they'll be doing another tour, I bought the tickets for the Chicago stop; we ended up showing for what turned out to be the 2nd show at the Logan Square Auditorium (actually a ballroom).

I don't even know how long the show went on; all I know there was a brief period before when Bamford was politely annoying, Posehn told his dick jokes, and Mirman was just plain weird ... and then a whiskey-addled Patton went on for about 2 1/2 hours with maybe a 5 minute breather somewhere in there.

It was easily the hardest I'd laughed, in earnest, ever. I barely had 2 drinks that night; and was on my feet all night after one of the longest weeks of my life, after having just buried my great-aunt, who was like a grandmother to me, before making the 5 hour drive up north on a Friday night after a full week's worth of work.

The next day, Patton would refer to it on his site's blog as, "[T]he best show of the tour, and maybe the best show I ever did. "

This Saturday's show was very different. It was eons away from that balmy April night in Chicago 2 years ago. The room of the swanky downtown casino was lined neatly with rows of cushioned seats. Patton himself has lost a good 30lbs (or better). He was dressed in tweed and slacks. No whiskey this time, just a bottle of water. Instead of fronting a pack of guerrilla comedians, he was announced by the emcee as the "[V]oice of Ratatouille," and "[Y]ou know him from 'King of Queens.'" He was all alone.

And yet, the audience -- including myself -- roared the entire hour and a half. At his second show of the evening.

It is clear from his act that he's a changed man by his family comedy successes, especially those of late. I certainly wouldn't say for the worse ... but you can tell that he's not really sure what to do with himself these days. He's still searingly witty and cynical; and while it is clear that he's at odds with that fact, I don't see it ever changing.

So, long story short (too late); it's best to sum up that I still strongly identify him. Perhaps now more than ever.

Shamefully False Advertising

Today when I read about a band named Jesus H Christ and the Four Hornsmen of the Apocalypse, my interest was immediately piqued. Not that the name of a band necessarily says anything about said band, but as far as band names go, this one was pretty clever. Even if wordy.

Its just a shame they suck; no, that's not true. They don't suck; the horn section is actually really good. But not one second into this video, I officially hated the frontwoman.



http://jesushchristrocks.com

Free Wilco Song!

Last night, Geoffrey Velvet (aka Jeff Tweedy) & Co were on the Colbert Report rockin' for the cause to vote. While Wilco is a long-time Obama supporter, their message is a bi-partisan effort to encourage people to get out and vote next Tuesday.

So by going to http://wilcoworld.net/vote/index.php/, anyone who plans on voting (or anyone who wishes to fib) can make their solemn promise to Wilco to vote in the presidential election and, in exchange, will receive a free live recording of Wilco and the Fleet Foxes covering Dylan.

Pretty sweet.

In case you missed 'em, here's the interview:



... and the performance of "Wilco The Song:"



Side note: has anyone else found this year's voter encouragement efforts as far more digestible than 2004's "Vote Or Die" campaign?

Where Is My @#&$ING CANDY?!

My two favorite candies in the world are the most impossible to find. One doesn't even exist anymore, and the other one has been "renamed."



The first, Shock Tarts. Now Wonka calls them "Shockers." Available nearly everywhere in my teens, I do cartwheels of joy if I happen to stumble upon them in a convenience store on a road trip these days.

Photo by erikaland

The second, RIP, is the original recipe chocolate flavored Twizzlers. Now they've made them "better" with Hershey's chocolate in the recipe. They're only okay; barely passable, really. Nowhere near the delicious, tough old chewy choco-Twizz's I still crave to this second. (The photographer named above is one of the many who shares my chagrin.)

Only, I couldn't even find the "new" crappy chocolate Twizzlers today! I went to 4 different Walgreens(es) in my area, and a Target. The nice gentleman who was restocking the candy aisle at my third Walgreens kindly deflected my frustration, saying that it's a common problem; he even had one STLPD officer tell him once that he's only able to find them at Wal-Mart.

Wal-Mart. The name makes me shudder. And, crave them though I do, I'm not driving into Maplewood to satiate a sugar fix.

5 different stores is my max. If that sounds ludicrous, rest assured it was a short trip. That's how many Walgreens there are within a 2 mile radius of my house.

... Hold The Phone.

I have always been mature for my age; responsible, accountable, relatively knowledgeable.

Today; however, I get a far more telling item in the mail, the very least of which do I care to indentify. Yet.

A complimentary copy -- addressed to me -- of More Magazine.

What can I say, I'm a sucker for free bathroom literature, especially those with Michelle Obama as the cover story; so I tear off the plastic, put the subscription offer into the shred bin and flop the rag into the basket by the toilet without a second thought.

But once I get to thumbing, I notice a disturbing trend in its literary substance:

The word "ageless" appearing repeatedly in the makeup ads. Multiple photos of "distinguished" looking ladies accompanying the articles entitled: "10 Women on TV Who make Over-40 Look Fabulous," "10 Reasons We're Glad We're Over 40," "Fashion For Grown-ups," and then ...

"Retirement For The Restless."

YOU-WHAAA?

Folks, More.com describes in its little top left corner as "Celebrating Women 40+."

But I'm not even 30 yet!!!

Where do these muckrakers get their demographic data?

More alarmingly, how did they get my name?! I don't give anyone my address or phone number. How do these people find me?!

Har-umph!

I believe we call this ... "foresight."

Want to understand the root cause of the current economic meltdown?

I don't want to make this blog political, but I just watched a film anyone who has a credit card should see.

Which is everyone.



What amazes me is the timeliness of this film; even though it was made at least 3 years ago.

If You Can Dream It ...

I'm really at a loss for an introduction for this video, other than: this one's for Beth, courtesy of Tom.

What's That Spell?

Completely
Useless
By
September

It's a well known fact that Cardinals fans have two favorite teams: The Cardinals, and whoever is playing the Cubbies.

We may not have made it to the big show this year; and while it normally gives me no joy to watch the Dodgers win, I have to say, watching the sweep tonight was almost as happy as October of 2006 was for me.

100 years and counting ... 

Sounds Of My Life: Show Me a Little Shame

Back when I was a CD store-managin' music snob, I managed only two people that were older than me; both guys. One was a total misogynistic, undermining pain in the ass (think The Office's Dwight -- he's exactly the guy) and the other was a punk rock / hippie / stoner / drunk / raver kid named Mike Cornish.

I use the word kid, because he was in his early twenties ... even at my current age of 28, that's a kid.

That, and he was a completely reckless idiot. I mean, we're talking about a guy who always had money for illicit drugs, cigarettes and booze, yet -- daily -- still wore his preteen retainer which held an undersized false tooth in the hole where one of his incisors once resided. Because he didn't have the money to more permanently replace it. Or the insurance. Or maybe he just didn't care.

He was a fun reckless idiot nonetheless. He always kept us laughing with his shenanigans and vocal stylings of whatever happened to be playing over our sound system.

So, being a stoner, its no surprise that he loved Ben Harper. When Burn To Shine was released in 1999, nothing -- short of an outright veto by myself as the presiding manager on duty, which was exercised at least once or twice -- would stop him from putting that disc in at some point in his shift.

This song in particular was a favorite, and he'd often sing at the top of his lungs when restocking CDs, cleaning used game systems, vacuuming ... you name it.

So while this is an excellent soul torch song, instead of it reminding me of some melancholy romantic encounter; forever burned into my memory is Mike's infectious laugh, ridiculous sense of humor, silly little false tooth and ... to our surprise, pretty decent voice.

For a white boy.

Artist: Ben Harper and The Innocent Criminals

Best. Cereal. Ever.

Okay, this is a bit off topic, but I have to divulge a secret.

Kashi's Honey Sunshine cereal is the best breakfast cereal ever.



It's whole grain, non-sugary (in other words, grown-up), Captain Crunch. That doesn't destroy the roof of your mouth.

For a breakfast cereal addict like me, its perfect.

Moz on the NFL Network?!

I can't decide if it's disconcerting or incredibly cool that the moaning troubadour's tune (and one of my favorite Moz tracks) "Every Day Is Like Sunday" graces the NFL Networks' new promos.



Granted, it's someone covering Morrissey. But still. Interesting.

Goodbye Mr. Newman

Even though death is an inevitability for us all, it's always sad when a legendary figure dies.

Paul Newman Dies at 83


I'll have to watch The Sting in memoriam soon.

Don't Bother.

Choke.

Was not good.

It had incredible potential and a great cast (love Angelica Houston and Sam Rockwell); but a piss-poor script adaptation on top of a botched editing job really screwed this one.

Shame.

Cassettes Won't Listen

Aside from loving their name, I found their remix of Pela's "Lonesome Hearts" the summer car jam of 2007.

Now I have another reason to adore. This music video:

Freeze and Explode


They're damn catchy.

Stream their latest tracks:
http://www.cassetteswontlisten.com/

No, You're the Dummy!

Last week we watched Dummy, a sentimental little indie flick staring Adrien Brody as a young man who quits his 9-5 office job to fulfill his dreams of becoming a ventriloquist. It was cute, and pretty funny; costars were Illeana Douglas and Jessica Walter (of Arrested Development fame) and both never cease to crack me up.

However, more notably than the movie I couldn't help but notice the entire soundtrack was reigned by a certain male singer/songwriter's whine; starting with the opening sequence and peppered in at least 2-3 other moments into the movie as well. His timbre was reminiscent of an early-90s Twin Cities Dave Pirner / Paul Westerberg variety; but I couldn't quite place where I'd heard that voice before.

So I set about some research and found the guy's name is Mike Ruekberg. I open the flash site, and on the very front page I get my answer.

His most current project is The Red Button, who I fell in love with last year; or more specifically, with their retro-tastic single "She's Going Down." I have to say, his partnership with this fellow Seth proves a much richer, and far more interesting and fun audible experience than his solo work ever could have been.

Though I can only strongly recommend the Button, you can stream sounds from both on their-respective-spaces:

http://www.myspace.com/mikeruekberg
http://www.myspace.com/theredbuttonband

POOP!

Sunny Season 4 starts tooooniiiiiight!!!

A Method Actor Prepares

Ahhhh, Premium Movie Channels. Whether or not you actually do, you have to love them. They bring you little nuggets like 10 Items Or Less when you can find nothing better to do with an hour and a half.

It wasn't anything dazzling or particularly moving; but it was enjoyable. At first glance, the movie is just satirical view into how out of touch with reality not just actors, but movie stars become; but really, it's more than that. Morgan Freeman plays the role with such grace and charm -- not an air of snottiness -- that it almost ends up being a love letter from Hollywood to the real world.

Plus, the female lead is super cute.

Here's the trailer.



I suggest you check it out on SHOHD. If you're lucky enough to get it free, like we do. If not, just rent it. Netflix it. Whatever.