Thank God for Youtube Volume #2

Seth McClung teaches his son to dance, hilarity ensues.



Thanks Kempf, this is why we need you posting again, coming with the ish!

Breaking News!

I found this on my brother's facebook wall, I could not agree more with the panel. It only furthers my theory that the female orgasm is a myth.

Wilco will love you, baby

Well, apparently last night was a live music holiday. While the youngsters were at Lyrics Born in Madtown, I was enjoying an amazing show from Wilco, their first show of the 2009 tour and their first of two back-to-back shows at the amazing and intimate Pabst Theater in downtown Milwaukee.

If you haven't been to the Pabst, go see a show - any show - there. It is an amazing venue with incredible acoustics and it is truly beautiful to look at. We sat in the third level (The Gallery) and looked down on Wilco the way German-Americans looked down on Wagner's operas from that same spot in 1895. (I snapped the photo at the top of this post.) It is a National Historic Landmark and a favorite of many artists, including Wilco, who chose to perform two insta-sold-out shows at the intimate, 1300 seat theater, rather than cashing in on a much larger venue. (Wilco has easily sold out the 3200 capacity Eagles Ballroom in the past and has had overflowing, enormous crowds for Summerfest shows on the "free stages.") Here is a nice stock photo of the Pabst:



As for the show itself, it was my birthday gift to myself and I couldn't have asked for anything better. For anyone who truly appreciates good music played by good musicians with a genuine sentiment, Wilco can't be beat. I saw Wilco for the first time at the Barrymore Theater in Madison in February 1997, and I've probably seen them about a dozen times since then. This was easily one of their best shows that I've seen, and it sounded better than ever in the caring hands of the Pabst. They've all but abandoned the rootsy rock that drew me to them in the '90s, but the new stuff is just plain better. Plus, you know, $3 silos of Pabst at the Pabst. All in all, a great time.

I'll leave the detailed concert reviewing to the experts. Here's the review from The Decider, the Onion's culture section.

Lyrics Born

Last night my roommate and I went to see Lyrics Born in action at the Majestic. A few things I can no longer go out during the weeks at least not that late as I am hurting this morning, for the first time I am starting to feel old by the way. LB tore it up, this was the first time I have seen him in concert and loved him. Even though the Majestic has terrible acoustics. Not a great place to see any show especially a hip hop show. Anyways LB is one of the most creative artists out there. He often uses live bands in his songs and combines it with a little funk, and as you can tell from the two songs below, he has a sound and style all to his own. Here is to original music!

Confusing Headlines

Can someone please explain this to me?

Gay Fish

Last week my favorite show did a parody on my least favorite rapper. South Park ripped Kanye West a new asshole and it could not have been funnier. I wont even try to explain the plot, but it basically bashes Kanye's love of himself, his belief that he is the next pop star in this country, and the fact that he cannot sing a lick. So yeah they completely ripped him apart. I could not be happier as I think it served a little humble pie to his most admiring fans as well as a little to himself. I have linked a clip to the episode as well as a link to the song that the parody at the end of the episode. The song does not do this episode justice take 20 minutes and watch this. If you are a Kanye hater like I am you will not be disappointed.


Kanye's Response


Watch Full Episode

Opening Day 2009

Hopefully, a good number of our readers - as well as C$$ - will share their opening day experiences.

It was a cold and windy day, but at least it was dry. I started off the day by sitting in dead-stopped traffic on Blue Mound Rd. from 10:20 until about 10:45, at which time the geniuses that run Miller Park finally were instructed by the police to open the gates so the City could start moving again. Fortunately, I had a couple of beers during that time. It's not really drinking and driving if your car isn't running, right?

I hadn't done opening day in several years, and I was much, much older this time around. I started off tailgating with a group of other old dudes, the guys in my 20-game pack crew. These old bastards like to tailgate in the Siberian lot, the Giants lot that is North of 94. (For our female readers and others who are directionally challenged, this is the isolated lot across the interstate from where Miller Park is located.) This lot sucks raging donkey balls because it is a 15-minute walk from the park as well as all other tailgate areas you might want to visit, but old people like it because it easy to get back on the freeway heading West. Yes, they like tailgating there because it's easier to go home earlier. Seriously.

I did a fair job of getting drunk with those old guys between 10:30 and 1:30. The bathroom situation in Siberia was worse than ever, 30 minute lines to use crappy portas. At one point, JP and I finally followed the crowd of miscreants and headed up the hill into the woods to piss behind a tree. Believe me, the bare branches of early Spring do not provide the same level of cover as the late Summer leaf canopy. A couple of bike cops rolled up in short order, just as JP and I were coming back down the hill. The cops hadn't actually seen us pissing, so they let us pass and focused their attention over our shoulders up the hill to the several cocks hanging out in plain sight. I was able to get a chuckle out of one of the pigs by saying, "Good morning, officer. We weren't urinating in public like those other dudes, we just hiked up the hill to make out." On the way down the hill, I snapped this photo of the Siberian festivities.



By 1:30, I had drunk myself young enough to tell the old guys to go fuck themselves and wander over to the jungle in search of the elusive Silverback. With the use of GPS and texting technology, I found Silver proudly demonstrating a piss-bucket contraption that I won't even attempt to describe. Perhaps, he will fill us in. By this time it was only about an hour before game time, but I managed to rip about 6 cups from the keg during that hour. When there's a piss bucket nearby, you can drink with confidence.

At Silver's party, I also connected with C$$ and stood in awe at his sausage-like fingers. I was tempted to press his hands to the grill and grab the mustard. Looking forward to hearing his update about the party sponsored by the beer that shall not be named in this thread. It was good to catch up with family, as Cousin Curt was on the scene. I saw Giegel at the tailgate, but it turns out it was Gruny. I'm not sure which of those fucking doppelgangers deserve an apology for the fact that I always think Gruny is Giegel, but I might as well say I'm sorry to both of you.

At this point, I was good and drunk, so I headed into the game and actually saw the first pitch. I don't remember that much about the game, except that Captain Destruction - my alter ego - made an appearance at some point. A pair of sunglasses was destroyed into small bits. Apparently, it just wasn't sunny enough inside the closed roof to tolerate shades. My homey Mike T. modeled the redesigned shades for the camera.



Also, apologies to Beve for destroying his jeans. Apparently, Captain Destruction felt that Beve's "Jovi-jeans" with the ripped knee required some touching up. Let's just say he was showing more than a little thigh by the eighth inning. Miraculously, I won about $35 playing dollar games, as my batters hit two home runs clearing the pot.

After a few hours of beer-less recovery time, I headed home and "fell asleep" on the couch while my wife watched a movie, but only after I brushed my son's 6 little teeth and told him everything I could remember about the game. All in all, a really good day. Beats the office.