But who did Stryper date?

You're probably tired of me seemingly always pimping Patton Oswalt, so I'll pimp someone else: columnist/author Chuck Klosterman. Right now I'm on a total CK kick: I just read his Fargo Rock City and am going to pick up his new one - Killing Yourself to Live - from the library tomorrow. The following is a passage from the former:

Still we somehow managed to use a band's songs and videos - and more importantly, a band's social posture - to get an image of what kind of women they preferred (or appeared to prefer)...Here's a list of what type of girls the premier metal groups liked (or at least seemed to like)...

GUNS N' ROSES: Bisexual models; submissive women; girls who would buy them booze.
MOTLEY CRUE: Strippers; women who have sex in public (particularly elevators); lesbians.
RATT: Hookers with a heart of gold. Or strippers with a heart of gold. Or thirteen-year-olds.
WARRANT: Virgins who exhibited the potential to become nymphomaniacs.
DEF LEPPARD: Drunk girls; female vampires.
THE CULT: Female vampires only.
FASTER PUSSYCAT: GNR rejects.
W.A.S.P.: Magician's assistants; women with rape fantasies; lower primates.
AEROSMITH: Models, but not waifs; high school snobs; more girls who like having sex in elevators.
CINDERELLA: Gypsies.
TESLA: Farm girls; whoever they used to date in junior high.
SKID ROW: Nameless, faceless, top-heavy sex machines (with hearts of gold).
BULLETBOYS: Girls with particularly deep birth canals.
L.A. GUNS: Drug-addled hitchhikers who like rough sex.
BANG TANGO: Faster Pussycat rejects.
VAN HALEN: Party girls; bikini models; the homecoming queen; cast members of "One Day at a Time."
DAVID LEE ROTH (solo): The same as Van Halen, except with bigger boobs.
BON JOVI: The girl next door.
VINNIE VINCENT INVASION: The dominatrix next door.
SLAUGHTER: Girls who couldn't make the cut as Bon Jovi groupies.
WINGER: Whoever Bon Jovi groupies used to baby-sit.
POISON: Girls who liked to tease; girls from small towns; good girls gone bad.
KISS: Any girl who wasn't dead.
IRON MAIDEN: Dead girls.
JUDAS PRIEST: Boys.
METALLICA: None of the above.

Really, he's the only reason I keep my subscription to Spin.

And on the fifteenth day he came home

Just so's y'all know, I'm back in C-Bus now.



I can think of a few places I'd rather be (one place in particular - but I'll be there in a few weeks). Regular blogging content will resume shortly.

HHI: Last mango in Paris

Well, today is my last full day here in Hilton Head. I feel obligated to go to the beach, since I live in a landlocked state and don't see the shore nearly as much as I'd like to. But I'm just not feeling it. Maybe I'll take a stroll over there this evening.

Tonight's meal is the annual peel and eat shrimp dinner, along with crabcakes made out of crabs that my brother has been catching for the past two weeks (the crustaceans, not the STD).

One uninteresting note: despite the fact that I've titled all of my HHI posts after Jimmy Buffett albums/songs, I have yet to listen to a single song of his on this trip (and I brought at least six of his discs).

It's going to suck to return to normal life. Hopefully, there'll be some temp assignments waiting for me now that there are no more obstacles (other than that pesky "wanting to move away from the state" thing). And then there's Micah-palooza in Vegas, which is just about three short weeks away.

Plus, one of the first things I'll do when I get home is head to Best Buy so I can pick up the new Dane Cook CD/DVD combo. I swear, next to Patton Oswalt, he's my favorite current comedian.

HHI: Coconut Telegraph

Time's running out here in HHI. A very brief recap of the past few days: a murder mystery dinner (I was the killer), Christmas in July, and the biggest steak I've ever eaten.


Merry Christmas

Within two days, I finished my fifth book - Chuck Klosterman's Fargo Rock City. He gives heavy metal more analysis than the genre deserves, but it is hilarious. Run, don't walk to the bookstore to get it.

Last night, the whole damn family (all 20 of us) chartered a bus and took a trip to Savannah, GA, for dinner at celebrity chef Paula Deen's Lady & Sons. And it was a great buffet: fried chicken, fried ribs, mac & cheese, collard greens, cabbage, beef stew, and butter with mashed potatoes. The sweet tea had a sprig of mint in it. And I'm ashamed to say that it took me 29 years to get the chance to eat a hoe cake. Our waitress was the Southern Belle that I've been looking for except that she possesses one quality that removes her from my list: she currently resides in Georgia (this is not a slam on GA, but rather my finicky notion not to relocate for a girl).

What's on the beach house's playlist, you ask? Well, I'll break it down for you:
Heavy Rotation:
-Jack Johnson In Between Dreams
-Jude King of Yesterday*
-Donavan Frankenreiter
-Jimmy Cliff The Harder They Come (Deluxe Edition)
Medium Rotation:
-Coldplay's latest (my brother's a huge fan)
-David Bowie Changesbowie
Light Rotation:
-Beach Boys Pet Sounds
-Fountains of Wayne Welcome Interstate Managers
-Queen Greatest Hits
-Jon Brion I Heart Huckabees soundtrack

Also a quick shout-out to Bullfrog sunscreen. Every time I step out into the sun, I tend to burst into flames, thanks to the Clan Keith blood pumping through my veins. But I've averaged a beach trip every other day these past two weeks and I have yet to get a sunburn. I think's it's all about the Bullfrog. Big ups to Phil for recommending the stuff.

*Every now and then an album comes along that totally consumes me. This is the latest. It is one of those criminally overlooked records (I just got it this month and I'm a big fan of Jude's first two albums). It didn't help that it was released on September 11, 2001. But go and buy it. Your quality of life will certainly be raised if you do.

HHI: Volcano

My days have been extremely lazy, so there's really nothing for me to post about. How about a pic of a hot topless chick?


Put your hands together for Sarah Jane on the main stage.

My niece is going to kill me when she gets older.

Had more ribs tonight at Sticky Fingers. Two nights ago my brother, his chica, and I made crawfish etouffee for the clan. Scrumptious.

Catching up on my news, my heart goes out again to the people of London. And it sounds like W made the correct choice for his SC nominee. Power to the States!

It'd be really nice if we got OLN so's I could watch Lance Armstrong win his seventh consecutive Tour de France (added bonus: pissing off the French). Alas, I'll have to make due with the highlights. This is quite a departure from last year for me when I watched pretty much all of the television coverage. Of course, I failed the bar exam that summer. Thanks, Lance.

I'm determined to finish my second book tonight. Only have about 60 pages to go.

Currently, there's some heated family drama between my cousin and my uncle about the correct rules of Scrabble (seriously). Nothing like a meltdown over a board game.

HHI: Boat drinks

Nothing much happened yesterday except for reading, shopping at Wal-Mart (finally got a sweatshirt to wear in this COLD house), and playing Scrabble. Much to my brother's dismay, "uningrained" is not a word. Oh, and our renunion t-shirt was unveiled - I'll post a pic later. So, I thought that I'd give a treat to all of the functioning alcoholics out there - our family's recipe for that frozen concotion that helps me hang on: Sneaky Petes.

1 fifth vodka
1 12 ounce can frozen orange juice concentrate
1 12 ounce can frozen lemonade concentrate
2 cups cranberry juice
1/2 cup powdered sugar
1 2 liter bottle of 7-UP

Mix all of the above together and freeze overnight. Spoon into tall glasses.

We make Sneaky Petes every time we come down here and go through several batches of the frozen goodness. Today just may be a beach day.

I've pretty much isolated myself from the outside world here. The DVR at home is recording all of my shows, so no need to watch TV. We don't get a newspaper. All of the magazines that I brought with me are old. So I am just now getting word that Bush nominated a guy for the Supreme Court. Hmmm...I'll have to do some reading up on him.

HHI: One particular harbour

My brother had to get stamps for some bills that he had to send out, so I tagged along with him and his girlfriend to the general store. As we were waiting in line, a stock guy pushing a loaded dolly tried to pass. The next thing I know crates of Gatorade and cigarettes are falling on my brother's chica, injuring her ankle. The manager of the general store rushed over, worried as hell. He offered her a free t-shirt (so she wouldn't sue), but she declined and gave assurances that she wouldn't be litigating. My brother did get his stamps comped, though (total value: $3.75). And in related news, I found a finger in my pina colada.


Beaches. Without Bette Midler.

Finally saw the beach today. Ah, it was nice. My brother dug a hole and sat in it. No sunburn...yet. And I saw parrots (not at the beach).


Smack is on me tonight, guys.

When most people think of Hilton Head, they think of two things: jazz and Thai food. We went to a jazz club tonight. There I had some excellent Seafood Thai Curry. And both my cousin and brother-in-law sat in with the band for a few songs (on alto sax and drums, respectively). They each did a great job. Really swingin' cats. It has been a long time since I've seen some live jazz. This club was devoid of smoke, which kind of killed the atmosphere. When I go to a jazz club, I fully expect to remove about 3 years off of my life expectancy. Bummer. But hearing the music, I was reminded of one of my favorite "Strangers With Candy" quotes, said by Jazzy - the hep jazz cat stereotype band teacher: "There's only three things I know that can cause a person to wail so mournfully: Lack of heroin, someone makin' off with your junk, and not havin' heroin."

Okay, here's another one: "Charlie Parker once said to me, 'Jazzy, shut up and give me some heroin.'"

HHI: Living and dying in 3/4 time

Day two at Hilton Head was a nice one. I finished one book (that I started yesterday) and started a new one. At the rate I'm going, I'll have to buy more books.

Due to some family members' preferences, this house is cold. Nova Scotia cold. And there's no use setting up camp at the other house because it's just as frigid over there (thanks to my mom). I'm freezing my baguettes off out here.

On top of that, something in the house is triggering my allergies. Someone discovered a cat bed here, so that's probably the culprit. I'd take copious amounts of Benadryl but A) I don't want to be doped up for the next fortnight and B) I don't want to risk pissing off Tom Cruise.

As I unpacked, I realized that I didn't bring my binoculars, which is too bad because there's an abundance of cute, toned sheilas at the tennis courts next to the house. Damn you privacy hedge! It's just as well. I'll be just that less creepy.

Uncle Chuck prepared tonight's dinner: ribs and beer can chicken. He's a veteran of four barbecue boot camps (Steven Raichlan even gave him his PhG - Doctorate of Grilling), so you know it was good. Capping off the meal was Uncle Mike's homemade ice cream. Good stuff.

HHI: Changes in latitudes, changes in attitudes

Just finished unpacking, getting all homey-like, and lo and behold - the house is equipped with high-speed internet (free, to boot!). We're rolling ghetto fab-u-lous. So you guys' aren't going to get the reprieve that you hoped for.

Got to the airport at 9 am, but had to wait around due to there being an air show going on there (cue: "Rock You Like a Hurricane"). After the F-16 jets did their belly rolls, we finally lifted off at 10:15 and arrived on Hilton Head Island at a little before noon. Private jets are the only way I'll travel from now on. This may provide a problem for my eventual DC workday commute.

When we got here, the houses were still being cleaned. So we had lunch at the Salty Dog. And then they were still being cleaned. I then went to the pool and read 100 pages of my Kevin Smith book. The Read-A-Thon has started, folks. A girl asked, "can I smoke here, sir?" One: I'm not a lifeguard (the "NO LIFEGUARD ON DUTY" sign behind me should've clued her in). Two: I am definitely not a "sir." Gray hairs, notwithstanding.

After medicating a splitting headache (brought on no doubt by a combination of exposure to the sun, ingesting more sugar this morning than in the past three months, and a change in pressure), I'm feeling pretty good now.

Just so you know, I am a walking dichotomy. I love the beach. Not really going in the water so much as just enjoying the overall vibe and environment. Yet, being the "relaxed fit" guy that I am, there is a perpetual layer of glaze over me whenever I step out into temperatures higher than 45F (2 Kelvin). Add to the fact that I seldom wear just a t-shirt as my sole upper level attire and you can imagine how this muggy, Vietnam-like atmosphere is for me. It's hot. Africa hot.* But I love the beach.

*Mad props to KPMD for reviving this quote and, thus, making it the official tagline for Micah World.

Gone fishin'

Well, folks, in about 7.5 hours I will be on a jet to Hilton Head, SC. A vacation from vacation, of sorts. So there may be no blog for two weeks. Although maybe I'll be able to locate a cheap (preferably free) wifi hotspot down there and do an update or two.

Look for me on the Salty Dog Cafe webcam. I'll likely be there most nights, as long as my brother's buying.

What's in my beach bag, you ask?
-sunblock because I burst into flames whenever I go out into the sun
-issues of Reason, Esquire, Men's Journal, and Blender
-Spider-man band-aids (I cut my finger chopping onions the other night)
-mp3 player
-lots o' water
-beach chair
-J.Crew beachtowel to let people know how I roll
-sandals (er, actually on my feet, not in the bag)
-hats (cowboy, Orioles, Nationals)
-binoculars (to look at...uh, wildlife)
-digital camera (to take pictures of...uh, wildlife)
-sunglasses
-Silent Bob Speaks, The Serpent and the Rainbow, Fargo Rock City, Arrogance, The Eyre Affair, Peace Kills, Dancing Naked in the Mind Field, The Making of a Chef, Even Cowgirls Get the Blues, and Sleeping With the Devil (I'm under no illusion that I'll read them all; it's just nice to have options)

I'll be talking to y'all in two weeks, if not sooner.

Snap back to reality (TV)

As much as I am loathe to say it, I am actually enjoying some of the vapid reality fare on TV this summer.

"Hell's Kitchen": Chef Gordon Ramsay is what our friends in the UK would refer to as an arse (Thanks, Donald Trump!). But it is fun to watch him turn up the heat. Dewberry, I miss you.

"The Next Food Network Star": Quite possibly the friendliest reality show ever. No backstabbing or two-faced plotting. No illicit hot tub hook-ups. No bitchy confessionals. How refreshing! My boy Eric was robbed.

"Average Joe: The Joes Strike Back": Always good to see the little guy get a shot at a hottie, but I recognize that this show is pure fantasy. The previous two editions showed that women are just as superficial as men (at least we admit it). This time around the babe (Anna) is cute, but not a stunner like the last two. But she does have the best rack. Well, she does. And a tip for my female readers: despite your best intentions, guys don't like to be called "sweet" - a word all too often thrown at the Joes before they are cast off.

"Beauty and the Geek": Oddly enough (or maybe not), this turned out to be my favorite of the four. Probably because it wasn't a dating show, but a "social experiment" (as it was billed). No forced hook-ups or awkward dates (well, I guess there were one or two of those). Truthfully, the women were attractive, but not the End All Be All of Female Beauty as the producers would have you believe. And some of the guys really weren't all that nerdy. Richard annoyed the hell out of me, though.

Despite watching the above, I still maintain my hatred of the reality genre.

The funniest thing I heard all week

On this week's "Reno 911!", there's a scene where the deputies put on an assembly for a bunch of kids. After their anti-graffiti song gets an indifferent response, an irate Lt. Dangle says, "Those of us who weren't raised by Grand Theft Auto, we applaud after we see something." Hilarious.

For relaxing times, make it Suntory time.

Slower, with more intensity.

Cool site alert: Japander.com. There you can see Hollywood celebrities pimp Asian products. Britney Spears advertises iced tea, Dennis Hopper shills for Nike, and Madonna plugs booze. Fans of "24" will dig one by Kiefer. And do yourself a favor and check out the Michael Jackson spot ("Love is my message") and the sublimely weird Arnold Schwarzenegger commercials.

Whittling down "69 Love Songs" is the new whittling down "The White Album"

I've had 69 Love Songs by the Magnetic Fields on my listening pile for quite some time, but only recently delved into the 3 disc set. I like it a lot, but there is some filler, IMO. It could be an absolutely brilliant album if some of it was excised. So, like some music geeks (myself included) do with White Album, I pared it down to one excellent 80 minute disc. The sequencing is pretty much random except for the first and last songs ("Absolutely Cuckoo" is a great introduction and "Zebra"...well, it starts with a Z).

1. "Absolutely Cuckoo"
2. "Meaningless"
3. "Acoustic Guitar"
4. "I Don't Want To Get Over You"
5. "Promises of Eternity"
6. "All My Little Words"
7. "I Don't Belive in the Sun"
8. "Reno Dakota"
9. "Two Kinds of People"
10. "The Book of Love"
11. "Let's Pretend We're Bunny Rabbits"
12. "My Only Friend"
13. "A Chicken With Its Head Cut Off"
14. "Queen of the Savages"
15. "Washington, D.C."
16. "I Think I Need a New Heart"
17. "Luckiest Guy on the Lower East Side"
18. "It's a Crime"
19. "Very Funny"
20. "Long-Forgotten Fairytale"
21. "Busby Berkeley Dreams"
22. "Bitter Tears"
23. "Papa Was a Rodeo"
24. "If You Don't Cry"
25. "Abigail, Belle of Kilronan"
26. "Kiss Me Like You Mean It"
27. "(Crazy For You But) Not That Crazy"
28. "Wi' Nae Wee Bairn Ye'll Me Beget"
29. "The Night You Can't Remember"
30. "Zebra"

I'm not the only one doing this apparently. Stylus Magazine and The Believer both have features that whittle down the album (the former says that "Washington, D.C." is about a lesbian affair, but it seems pretty sexual orientation-neutral to me).

Positive feedback

I want to free up space on my DVR since I'll be gone for two weeks, so I've been plowing through a bunch of stuff that I've recorded. Tonight I watched CNBC's "The eBay Effect" - it was pretty interesting, similar to the channel's special about Wal-Mart. Now I've just got to fight the temptation to go to eBay and buy stuff that I really don't need (like a hula girl lamp). Anyway, I'm sure the program will get repeated often, so check it out.

Now all I really need to watch is the "CSI" finale (I'm not a regular viewer of that show, but Quentin Tarantino directed this particular episode), this week's "Hell's Kitchen," and the Showtime movie Possessed (about the real life case that inspired The Exorcist).

Beef Jerky Report: I made a batch of Louisiana Red Pepper beef jerky today. Tomorrow is Tequila Lime. Friday's batch will be Mesquite Lime. It's good to have a food dehydrator.

Crush of the Week: Rachael Leigh Cook

This week's Crush is actress Rachael Leigh Cook. Ever since I saw her get medieval with a frying pan in that anti-drug PSA, I knew she was all that.


Kiss me.

I haven't seen much of her lately. It looks like she's sticking with mainly indie stuff since the dismal Josie and the Pussycats. Someone call Freddie Prinze, Jr. stat!

Free Music Tuesday: Haynes Boys

I have several all-time favorite songs* and one of them is "Bitters Past" by the Haynes Boys (Tim Easton's band before he went solo), off of their excellent - and only - CD Guardian Angel. It is so great that it's the only song I'm offering this week. It has one of the best couplets ever ("I don't want to grow old drinking/But I want to grow old drinking with you")

So leave your request in the comments section and I'll e-mail the song to you. Also, check out Tim's site (linked above) - he's got a whole live show available for download. Great stuff. He recently played 4 shows in one weekend here in his native Columbus - I didn't go to any of them. That's living below the poverty line for you.

*"Dixie Chicken," "I Hope That I Don't Fall in Love With You"

I wasn't staring. I'm just hungry.

Mmmmmmm...Gummy

There's a new boob in town. One made of a gummy bear-like substance (link is clinical, but maybe not work safe). First bears, then worms, and now this. Gummy technology is grand, ain't it?

This is just the first step in the combining of George Costanza's passions: sex, food, and TV. It won't be too long before you can also catch the latest episode of "CSI" on woman's chest (as if I need another reason to stare). Or better yet, watching nekkid Skinemax chicks on a pair of breasts. Did I just blow your mind?

Credit due: We're taking bets that...

"I'm home" or "Pink is the new black"

Got in from DC not too long ago. The trip home took 7 hours and 10 minutes (as opposed to the 6 hours and 15 minutes it took to initially get there). The big difference was due mainly to 270 being a parking lot. Sitting there, listening to G. Gordon Liddy's radio show, the thought came to me that maybe I don't miss the area as much as I thought. Traffic this bad at 3 pm on a Monday afternoon? Turns out that it wasn't the usual hellish DC traffic, but the result of a 6 car pile up. Whew!

The free DC Metro Area apartment finder book is 3 times bigger than its Columbus counterpart. I think it must be the New International Version. My housing choices seem limitless. Especially since I haven't established what my budget will be.

Fun fact: a lightning bug still glows after smashing into the windshield of a car traveling at 80 mph.

My whirlwind trip has really got me yearning to move back to the District of Crack (well, actually Alexandria). The job search efforts must be raised...after my Hilton Head trip.

"Blogging on the road" or "Holla Back Boy"

I'm writing this from high atop the Alexandria Hilton, here visiting friends in the DC Metro area. Tonight we had our own G7 Summit at Clyde's. For some reason, the conversation mainly centered on two topics: Cisco and strippers.

I mentioned how I thought I should make my own version of Sideways, only this movie would be about a couple of wine cooler snobs. And then I learned of the existence of a magical drink called Cisco. Apparently, it is akin to Boone's or MD 20/20, only its 20% alcohol content packs a far bigger wallop. Possibly Illegal in Virginia; status unknown in Ohio. You can be sure that I'll be going on a quest when I return.

Then there are strippers. Do we even need an excuse to talk about them? Well, it stemmed from talking about the upcoming Micah-palooza celebration in Vegas (for my 30th birthday). Want a peek inside their world and have your illusions shattered? Then peruse the forums at Stripper Web - a resource for people in the industry. It's quite enlightening.

As for DC - it's hot. Africa hot.

If only all ads ended with a quick "SEGA!"

Just what you need to kill some time: an archive of old video game commercials, both domestic and international. Some of these really take me back to a simpler time (2004).

Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to go outside and yell "Mortal Kombat!" at the top of my lungs.

What should I read?

A week from today I'll be leaving for Hilton Head for two weeks of lazing around and sipping Kiwi Coladas (a vacation from vacation, of sorts). This provides plenty of quality reading time for yours truly. What's currently in my beach bag?



The Serpent and the Rainbow by Wade Davis. It's sort of like a real-life zombie book. And I have this strange fascination with voodoo.

Peace Kills by P.J. O'Rourke. A little funny libertarian food for thought.

Fargo Rock City by Chuck Klosterman. He's my favorite columnist (and the only reason why I still have a subscription to Spin). This guy's stuff is always a great read.

But that's not nearly enough reading material for me. If the books are interesting, I can easily burn through 4 or 5 in two weeks. Stealing an idea from Kate, I turn to you - my faithful readers - to give me suggestions for good beach reading. I usually prefer non-fiction (humor, politics, history, biographies), but am open to fiction. Keep in mind that I will be getting any suggestions from the library, so I'll need to put in a reserve request post haste in order to get them before I leave.

Free mint julep with purchase

Oh, cruel fate. Here I am without any disposable income and today I get an e-mail regarding a Jos. A. Bank sale. Why am I lamenting this? Because I could get a seersucker suit for $143.20 if I act by Monday. To paraphrase George Costanza, I've always wanted to be ensconced in seersucker, but never had the nerve to buy an actual suit. That and the whole "livin' in the Midwest" thing - not to mention being under 50 - doesn't really cater to that type of outfit. But I am planning on moving back South sooner rather than later. And in my head I'm a Southern Dandy. This is a great buy - almost worth going into (more) debt for. But I think I'll just wait until next time. Now I need to figure out something else to wear to the premiere of the "Dukes of Hazzard" movie.

I hope she remembers to beat someone up on her first day inside

Lil' Kim has been sentenced to 366 days in jail for perjury. Keepin' it real!

On a totally unrelated and serious note, my thoughts and prayers go out to the people of London today.

Crush of the Week: Cheryl Hines

This week's Crush is Cheryl Hines, who plays Larry David's wife on "Curb Your Enthusiasm."


I'm her caucasian.

We'll just forget about her participation in that dreadful "Father of the Pride" cartoon.

Free Music Tuesday: Tour de France edition

To coincide with Lance Armstrong claiming the yellow jersey and Team Discovery Channel's dramatic victory in today's team time trial stage of the Tour de France, I've a couple of cycling-related songs for you.

The first song is Queen's "Bicycle Race," naturally.

Next is John Tesh's "Road Made for Animals" off of his 1990 Tour de France: The Early Years album. I vividly remember watching CBS's Sunday coverage of the Tour with my dad and brother, back in the day. This music was the soundtrack to fast-moving images of Davis Phinney, Raul Alcala, Andy Hampsten, and Greg LeMond. It would also be played over the PA system when the Tour de Trump (later called the Tour DuPont) would have a stage or two in Richmond. So you see, my reason for having this CD is purely nostalgic. You don't have to give me crap for owning a John Tesh album.

As always, if you want either or both of these songs, leave a comment requesting them.

Hooray for America!

Happy 4th of July! Grill out some hotdogs, watch some fireworks, chill with the fam, and enjoy some All-American entertainment. May I suggest some music, a movie, a TV show, or a book? If you don't enjoy those, you're a Communist.

(For some reason, I have a renewed interest in Captain America lately, despite a current flaw with the character and the fact that I've always found his boots to be a bit fruity. And does this restaurant remind anyone of AmericaTown from "The Simpsons"?)

Help wanted. Must have own robe and steel-toe boots.

How's this for a coincidence? I'm in dire need of a job and it just so happens that there's now an opening on the Supreme Court. I think I'll send in a resume.

The Nerd Uprising has begun...

Look at any period in history where a group of people have overcome oppression and you'll see that each uprising started with a lone incident. Well, comedian Patton Oswalt has struck the first blow for geeks in the face of the tyranny of the Beautiful People. This brave act occurred while he was doing a stand-up performance in London. I know you're probably sick of me pimping out his blog, but this a riot. Ladies and gentelmen, the Nerd Uprising is not far off:

[I] had one of the best insult battles I've ever had with a group of three stunning hotties in my front row at my Friday show. They sat, arms crossed, checking their cell phones for text messages, all through the first twenty minutes of my set. One of them said, loud enough for only me to hear, "Let's GO already".

"Are you guys okay?" I asked.

"Too much fucking CURSING," came the non-ironic reply.

"Are you...you're kidding, right?"

"It's not clev-AH, the way you're just cursing."

I wish I'd been recording that show - the next twenty minutes were PURE GOLD. Firstly, all three of these girls were the kind of beautiful that spends its life in a non-stop IMAX movie of people agreeing with whatever it says. Even if said beauty never thinks twice about what it says, how it feels about anything, or if it even likes what it likes or hates what it hates. The Paris Hilton gene, which is spreading like the Spanish flu.

Secondly, it was so much for for me to watch their escalating, verging-on-panic reaction to my questioning - IN FRONT OF ALL OF THESE OTHER PEOPLE, ALL OF WHOM SHOULD BE AGREEING WITH THE HOTTIES - their opinion. Guys who look like me do NOT question these girls or their opinions - EVER. One of the hotties kept looking back angrily at the audience every time they'd laugh at something I said. I kept giving them every chance to leave, but they were determined to stay, and win.

Of course, "winning" in their world consisted of saying, "You don't know me, so fuck off." Like that would end the argument. Probably, every day of their lives up to that point, it did. When I wouldn't stop (wouldn't stop = didn't take "Fuck off" as the end of the argument) they almost started screaming. Weird, non-verbal shrieking, all together. I wanted to book myself and them at Edinburgh, and the show would be them sitting on stage, and saying something like, "Jennifer Lopez has awesome songs," and then me saying, "No, she sucks." And then they'd start screaming, and I'd hold up a delicate glass, and their screaming would carve sonic shapes into the glass, like at the end of THE TIN DRUM.

They finally left. And, according to one of the theater ushers, walked up Dean Street, one of them screaming, "I'm not THICK!" Which, now that I think of it, isn't something you should ever have to say, out loud, about yourself.

Don't say you weren't warned.