Monday, November 23, 2015


Ringo's auctioning the very first copy of The Beatles White Album.
Apparently Starr’s kept the record in a bank vault in London for over 35 years and has finally decided to bring it out for auction. The starting bid? $20,000. 

As Dangerous Minds explains, it’s widely accepted that copies one to four are in the possession of the four Beatles’ members. But it’s also been assumed that No. 0000001 belongs to John Lennon. It’s even an assumption shared by Paul McCartney, who said Lennon “shouted loudest”. As it turns out, Ringo owns the copy and And now a well-heeled Beatles’ collector has the chance to buy it. 
Starts at $20k??!  Now THAT'S a joke.

"But Xmastime", you say in the voice of Craig “Ironhead” Heyward from those soap commercials (RIP), “don't you have a 14-song single album version of the White album?"


Back In The U.S.S.R.
Dear Prudence
While My Guitar Gently Weeps
Sexy Sadie
Happiness Is A Warm Gun
I'm So Tired
Rocky Raccoon
Don't Pass Me By
Mother Nature's Son
Everybody's Got Something To Hide Except Me And My Monkey
Helter Skelter
Good Night

Well Hello There, My Monday Night Plans!


Sunday, November 22, 2015

RIP Jimmy the Barber

I've gotten many haircuts in the 25 years since I left my hometown, but you never forget your first barber. Mine was Jimmy the Barber, and today was the first time I'd gotten my hair cut since he died a few weeks ago.

From 2007:
On Saturday morning my dad would drop my brother and I off at Jimmy the Barber's for our haircuts, loudly proclaiming to Jimmy each time "Jimmy, I want them to have BOY haircuts." I don't know what he was scared of; I never once heard of Jimmy pissing off a father in town by giving a kid a beehive or something. Not once did I hear Jimmy look at a young buck and say "I'm gonna cut your hair like Strawberry Shortcake!" Then my brother and I would sit amongst the dozen or so 50 year old farmers in there, reading Reader's Digest while the old codgers shot the shit about tractors and crops and other shit we had no idea what they were talking about. After about three hours of waiting you'd get waved over to the chair by Jimmy (until I went to college I thought his last name was in fact "Thebarber") who would chop it all off in about 17 seconds, all while getting in what was a clinic on small talk "how you boys been playing ball this year how the team lookin saw your daddy rollin overB attery the other day yeah he's a good ol boy which one are you, part or no part whatchu say whatchu say bout it boy" BAM! taking off the shower curtain wrapped round your neck, you're outta the chair. I'd wonder what went on over at some girl named Robin's shop, where all my rich friends got their hair cut. Sorry, styled. I'd picture over at Robin's there's a real-life Pizza Hut buffet set up while girls in pajamas would come over and dance along to J. Geil's "Centerfold", wildly applauding each snip of the scissors and spreading all the 5th grade gossip while dancing the watusi and eating baby egg rolls. Meanwhile I'm sitting for three hours listening to Field & Stream come to life during mudbogging season, each old cuss more ornery than the last re: what pussies the military has become, unlike when they were fighting the Japs outfitted with only some shoestring and the knowledge of the difference between right (us/jesus) and wrong (them/slant-eyed jesus.)
During my haircut career as a kid, Jimmy the Barber got married maybe, oh, 76 times. I'm not even kidding, every other fucking time you'd try to go by his shop there'd be a sign on the door "GONE ON HONEYMOON, BACK NEXT WEEK." And what do you know, the next time you'd be there during lunchtime some new woman would breeze in with a bag lunch for him, give him a big sloppy kiss on the lips and leave him beaming.
Cap. Doffed.
RIP Jimmy the Barber, have fun standing behind that big barber chair in the sky...oh wait you're probably off on your honeymoon anyway  ;)

Wednesday, November 18, 2015


I've long said that The Jesus & Mary Chain's Psychocandy is not only one of the best debut albums of all time but one of the best albums of all time, and here's a reason why:
Thirty years have passed since The Jesus and Mary Chain’s Psychocandy first enveloped and challenged adventurous ears, and the album still sounds just as fresh and vital, equal parts of mercurial grandeur and danger. A new generation of millennials first heard “Just Like Honey” high in the mix at the poignant climax to Sofia Coppola’s 2003 existential dramedy Lost In Translation, soundtracking the moment when Bill Murray and Scarlett Johansson reunite in Tokyo to realize that they love each other. It’s the perfect love song for a film about strangers out of place, both warm and alien.
I love love love this album, but there's one song that introduced me to it.

Nous Sommes Americains!

Nice, succinct primer HERE on why we pretty much our our existence as a country to France:
Plainly stated, if France hadn’t supported the United States during the American Revolution, there wouldn’t be a United States today. George Washington was a great general, but the Continental Army simply didn’t have the money, men, training, or seafaring vessels necessary to defeat the British. At the war’s outset, France secretly provided to the Americans trained officers, money, ammunition, and gunpowder. This contributed directly to the staggering victory of the Continentals over the British at the Battle of Saratoga in 1777. Upon news of the British defeat, Louis XVI of France decided to go all-in. France signed the aforementioned Treaty of Alliance and the Treaty of Amity and Commerce, and started sending serious firepower to the colonies.
"But Xmastime", you say in the voice of Craig “Ironhead” Heyward from those soap commercials (RIP), “didn't you point this out 6 years ago?"


The Sports Guy Presidential Interview

While waiting to do whatever he's gonna do next Bill Simmons sat down with Obama for an interview at GQ:
What’s the most entertaining conspiracy theory you ever read about yourself?
That military exercises we were doing in Texas were designed to begin martial law so that I could usurp the Constitution and stay in power longer. Anybody who thinks I could get away with telling Michelle I’m going to be president any longer than eight years does not know my wife.

Saturday, November 14, 2015


I know this is terrible timing after last night, but I've been meaning to post about my trip to Paris for 2 weeks. First of all, it's the first place I've ever been out of the country, so that in and of itself is amazing.

As for Paris itself, there's probably not much I can say that everybody else doesn't already know. It is, simply put, amazing. I was blown away by the sheer size of it, as well as how beautifully it's managed to sew the old (ancient, really) together with the modern in a way I've never seen before. It constantly reminded me of New York. It's amazing, and I can't wait to go back.

I'm too lazy for new comments so let me take you along on the trip as it happened via my Instagram.

Viva la France!

(Click on image to enlarge/scroll)

#ofah du Jour

Friday, November 13, 2015

Damn right I found it. ‪#‎paris2015‬

En Francais

I understand the emotion of the moment. There's nothing else for him to say of course. But let's hope he's reminded quickly that Bush's bullhorn-from-the-rubble moment resulted in incomprehensible disaster that's still being felt today, and will for generations to come.


This is probably a bad time to remind ourselves that we love to joke about the French being "surrender monkeys!" despite them being a small country in the thick of it while we're a massive country protected by 2 oceans and Canada & Mexico.

Too Sad.

More Only Fools and Horses

David Jason on their take on Friday the 13th-inspired episode.

It's Friday the 13th

Which means it's time to watch a great Only Fools and Horses episode, Friday the 14th.

If you don't have Hulu, here it is.

Tinder Pic du Jour

Sorry, fellas. I saw her first. #shitter  #exit11

Tuesday, November 10, 2015

The Clash Were the Biggest band in the World

Great clip from when The Clash played Shea Stadium, (skip to the 3:55 mark) including the bit in which Mick Jones grandmother, who raised him, was not impressed.

Monday, November 09, 2015

This Is What We Call a Good Month


Del Boy Trotter has a book  out, and you're gotdam right I ordered it! Here's an interview with the man himself:
DB: Have you read it?

M: Yes I have.

DB: And?

M: Well… I… I understood most of it.

DB: Thank you. That’s very kind of you.

M: You’re welcome.

DB: Mange tout.

M: Now that you’re an author, do you have any advice for any budding writers out there?

DB: A question that I’ve been asked a lot lately is whether great writing ability is a God given gift, or if it’s something that can be learned.
Well, if I’m anything to go by, it’s the latter. I mean, I couldn’t even write my own name till I was fourteen.
Honestly, if I had a pound for all the times I’ve been told I have no talent whatsoever as a writer, I’d be richer than Slobodan Milosevic by now.

M: Slobodan Milosevic?

DB: Yeah, you know, the bloke what owns Chelsea football club.

Happy Birfday... my goddaughter! ;)

Here she is trying to crush someone’s skull with telekinesis.   

There's only one person I let wear my Big Bear hat. :)

Here she is breaking her first bronco.

Here's she is 2 years ago on her birthday rocking out to her favorite song, Marah's New York is a Christmas Kind of Town from their awesome Christmas album.

At Christmas 2 years ago, wasted.
"Howza bousta anuvah drink, guv'nah?"
Like godfather, like goddaughter!

Happy Birthday to My Goddaughter

...who seems to be under the impression I'm rather fond of chicken. :)

Happy Anniversary Xmastime

10 years ago today I started this blog. Lesson learned along the way: nobody will ever give a shit. But it's been fun. Looking forward to the next 10, during which I'll still be wondering why I launched this whole thing with Wally fucking Joyner.

Wally Joyner

I see Wally Joyner has come out and declared that yes, back in the day he tried steroids. He felt himself being passed by by the likes of steroid-chomping monsters like Canseco, Palmeiro et al, so little Wally was desperate and asked his (now dead) pal Ken Caminti to get him some 'roids, which he tried once or twice but quickly stopped. Oh, good for you Wally!!

What a load of crap. Do we really give a shit about Wally Joyner? This REEKS of one of two things: Wally misses the spotlight of the Bigs and this is his only way to get attention, or is looking to parlay his "coming out" into a book/movie/episode of "7th Heaven." What REALLY fucking burns my ass is as he tells his story, we're supposed to weep for Wally - getting surpassed by the awful, cheating monsters taking the drugs (I noticed on the ESPN piece he made sure to mention Canseco and Palmeiro as two of those players as opposed to just saying 'some players'; presumably this puts the picture of roid-inhaling thugs in our heads) while innocent, naive Wally stands by and trys to play the game fairly. So with much trepidation he approaches his buddy "Cammy" (seriously, can any mention of Ken Caminiti ever happen again without chortling? camon) who hooks him up with his roid guy. Now we have to sit there while Wally walks us through the days of him debating doing the steroids, not doing the steroids, but oh the game isn't fair anymore blah blah fucking blah. Of course he takes one or two, is racked with such guilt that he stops. And here is where we're supposed to applaud him, "wow Wally, what a guy! good for you!"

Fuck that. Who the fuck cares? This means nothing to anybody, and does nothing to help the fight against the steroid problem in MLB. Dude shooting up for years, artificially padding his stats, cheating America's Game?? - naw, it's Wally trying roids once or twice in the twilight of his so-what career, then stopping. Whats the point? Shut up! Now we gotta pat Wally on the ass while his chest puffs out and say "boy, he's one of the good ones!!" Maybe in his inevitable 60 Minutes interviews Wally World can work up a few tears for us, like the keyboard player from Journey on their Behind the Music when he turns on the waterworks re: some kid in the hospital that died and was their one non-gay fan.