PM Yawn

I didn't think he could top that depressing crossover single attempt, but Pharoahe Monch's cover of Welcome to the Terrordome is really a bummer. If Chuck D wasn't busy with half-baked digital schemes to resuccitate his career, he'd bumrush the fucking show and put an end to this craziness.

Plus all he (PM) talks about in interviews now is how his brother listened to Sabbath growing up. I liked Organized Konfusion just fine, and "Simon Says" has aged exceedingly well. But rappers who have "always loved classic rock" in the post-Hey Ya-era are almost as bad as aging 90s Alt rock one-hit wonders who think it's ironic to cover NWA songs. Wait, no they're not, Nina Gordon gives me hives.

PE's timeless, brilliant version is un-embeddable because of major label retardation, but is viewable here , and check "Simon Says" below.

PERCEPTIONS OF SELF or HOW FAT I AM ONLINE

I know what you're thinking. With my dashing good looks and wild success at the baccarat tables of Monte Carlo, I must surely be turgid with confidence. Then I googled myself. Oofa. In case you can't see me I'm the guy on the right hidden behind my own chin. Also note to self: that inventive facial hairstyle is not cool. Thanks interweb!

When in Rome

Whilst toiling selflessly in Vegas last week at the thrilling HME in the service of my dark master, I was amazed at how much that town changed since I was first/last there in 2001 or so. And largely for the better, at least in that I ate passable food not once but at nearly every meal, and didn't even feel particularly gouged. The Grand Lux in the Venetian where I stayed (and am now officially a "player," gold mask not included) made a tidy little breakfast for a measly ten bucks, though for some vaguely insulting reason they called it "Peasant Eggs." Regardless, eating bracingly spicy Chinese pickles and drinking a Sapporo at lunch stood in stark contrast to my last trip there, where I remember being served a tomato slice that looked like a manhole cover (no homo).

Passable food aside, the clientele generally look like circus freaks, and the fake tits on display made me understand better where religious zealots are coming from. If seeing a four hundred pound man in lime green shorts at the buffet line is not a sign of the impending apocalypse, I dunno what is. (I say all this without having ever set foot off the Strip, perhaps other parts of Vegas are really classy, intelligent and down to earth)

And speaking of classy, I was conscripted (only semi-begrudgingly) by coworkers and other conference attendees to that Vegas classic, the strip club. My fondness for boobs notwithstanding, this was clearly not a good move for me. All the cliches were in full force: the potty-mouthed Latina from Washington Heights (who insisted on calling me "daddy"), the tattooed hipster chick (who in a non-surreal environment might have been my steez), the kindly if dim waitress (who during a lull told me about hiking options in the Greater Las Vegas Area), and of course the dead-eyed Estonian (whose razor-like hip bones gave me the opposite of a boner). Ah, bad times. When all of my party disappeared into the private rooms and I'd had enough hiking tips, I beat a hasty retreat back to my hotel, $200 poorer, with a lancing headache, grossed out and perhaps permanently flaccid.

Gross Gambling Winnings: ~$1200 (Slots, Blackjack)
Gross Gambling Losses: ~$1200 (Slots, Roulette)

King of Bongo

Download "Rainin In Paradize" (mp3)
from "Rainin In Paradize EP"
by Manu Chao
Nacional Records

More On This Album


What gives, Manu? This Manu Chao guy is very frustrating - so great in Mano Negra, two unbelievable solo records (both perplexingly absent from iTunes and Rhapsody), a surprisingly snoozy production turn for the otherwise sublime Amadou & Mariam, and then me and Lydia went to see him play recently here in SF and it was wack. Still digesting this new track, I'm going to maintain high hopes, in spite of the gratuitous use of the letter Z. The grammar police cut the French a little slack. Conspiracy theories about M.I.A.'s graphic designer to follow.

Two classic vids below.

Jah Provides Pachyderms for Pre-Historic Construction Project

Wow, this was really eye-opening for me. I had no idea that the great pyramids were built by white Rastas with domesticated woolly mammoths. I always thought it was us Jews who built them? This is going to change Passover in a big way. Probably won't shorten the seder though.

All the Blogs Love Mandy Lane - UPDATE

Here at Big I and Little i's Blonde & Precise Bloggorama we're unafraid to use this forum to support our pals (yes, we have some). Our buddy The Professor Jonny Astro's flick ALL THE BOYS LOVE MANDY LANE is being released by the Fat Man and his brother (no, I don't mean me and Big I) on July 20th. It's good. See it. Anybody who brought live band karaoke to LA can't be all bad.
Watch the bad ass trailer:


UPDATE: I know you all spent hours scouring your local theaters for Jon's flick but good news! It got saved at the last minute from the Weinsteins and will be in a theater near you soon.

What I Miss the Most About Tokyo

San Francisco Stormtrooper dance parties are simply not up to snuff.

Stormtrooper vs Akihabara (Via Japan Probe)

Ghost Town

I'm in London for the brilliantly-named London Calling 2007 conference. It's fine, a bit unnecessary, but I've had some constructive-ish meetings, and more importantly, London is amazing. These ladies cannot get enough of my bearded face and dry American humor. Well, not really, but there's no knocking chatting about politics at your local on a sunny afternoon over a nice Staropramen. Plus I went a little apeshit at Muji's 50% off sale. Did I really need a new alarm clock? Apparently I did.

Apropos of something, here's this rough but enjoyable footage of the reformed Specials doing "Gangsters*" at Glastonbury with the still-charming** Lily Allen. Worth it for Billy Bragg's skanking alone.

Saturday I'm going to see Dan's band Ghost Cat in Camden. Other highlights, Gail is going to work for the excellent Monocle, and the perennial London fave, drinking to excess with one Alex Watt.

* no "Gangsters" on ITS for some reason, so that's the link to "Little Bitch." Same smell, different nostril.
** She teeters on the edge of annoying me, but is still hanging on. For now. Step it up, Lily! Oh wait, you did.

Bom Biddly Biddly Biddly Bom

Kingston's Mavado has been around for a minute, but never really stood out from any other gravely-voiced West Indians until this song, which is basically what would have happened if Depeche Mode had grown up in Jamaica. Overwrought electronic effects swirl around vaguely menacing lyrics, drum machines go apeshit, and I feel slightly uncomfortable. Good times. Buy this nice pirate-themed comp from iTunes here.

As a general matter, Fader continues to step up their game, particularly on the blog front (and good for them, that whole marketing company confluence thing was getting annoying).

(Photos of Mavado floating around the internet are either of his Mortal Kombat namesake, or of him trying to look scary, so I ran with this one of Captain America playing the tambourine instead)

Peace Pigs II

I got a sweetass email in response to the Pigs of Peace post from my buddy CJ in Hendersonville, North Carolina, (yes, the same Hendersonville that is home of Hot Dog World). He sent me the above image of a delicious yet doomed swine that he found at the suicide food blog. Is it wrong that they make me hungry? Oh, and CJ, in answer to your question: yes, vinegar based North Carolina style BBQ, not mustard based South Carolina style. Duh.

Pound, the enjoyable but totally unnecessary short film

Here's a short film about two guys shaking hands (not a sexual euphemism in this case). I knew that guy Evan Bernard briefly back in the 90s, he did some videos for JSBX, I think. Nice guy. Once jumped up on stage at the Mercury Lounge with a Yoda mask on if I recall correctly. Beat is by Squeak E Clean, aka Sam Spiegal, aka Spike Jonze's brother, and is nice enough.

The thing I don't get is why or how this exists. Is this what it's like to be rich, you get to just make incredibly elaborate art projects for no reason? I kind of wish they'd built the world's biggest hoagie or something instead.

(via Boing Boing)

(Note, my plan had been to link directly to You Tube, but it's fucking up, so here's a picture of a hippo skeleton instead)

130 year old whale just called you a pussy

This whale cruised around for 100 years with a bomb lance fragment in his neck. In a related story, I got a papercut from a post-it note on my desk but Isaac gave me a cookie so I stopped crying. For now.

Magic Fingers

This clip is going to be pretty inescapable for the next 24 hours, please allow me to join your lemming hordes. Stella! If you've not seen the documentary, it's very amazing. Theremin (the man) married a black lady in the 40s, made a giant theremin (the machine) for ballet dancing in, and was kidnapped by the KGB. It's that kind of flick.

Elephantine

In addition to paying for my contact lenses and therapeutic "massages," IODA has a snazzy service called Promonet. In a nutshell, bloggers (who now worship me as their leader) get access to tracks earmarked by our labels for promotional usage, ie free giveaways. Yay. Ba Da Bing is a nice record label run by a nice guy named Ben. Beirut are a great band, and I say that very rarely about anything that doesn't have bongos in it. "Elephant Gun" also has an enjoyable video.

Download "Elephant Gun" (mp3)
from "Lon Gisland EP"
by Beirut
Ba Da Bing!

• Buy at Insound
• Stream from Rhapsody

Pigs of Peace

I didn't realize Big Eye wanted this blog to be about things we eat but i'm cool with that because I like to eat and I like to talk about myself. Yesterday was the NY barbecue festival and I finagled a free VIP pass out of a friend of mine. I spent the afternoon adrift on a sea of tender meat and icy beer. Each tiny meat-dom was ruled by a tyrannical and enormous Texan whose underlings scurried about with plates of various smoky meat treats bathed in various coatings of mysterious and well guarded origins. Such treats include but are not limited to baby back ribs, brisket, sausage, chicken, coleslaw, creole cassoulet, pulled pork shoulder, pecan pie and blessedly cold beer) . After several hours I waddled away unsteadily, my fingers sticky, my shirt ruined, my midsection turgid and my heart at peace (if beating with some difficulty). This sense of ease washed over me like so much Carolina hot-sauce as North and South came together in perfect harmony in the United Nations of my innards. I'm not saying I can fix the world's problems (especially when I'm this full and drunk), I'm just saying that meat and beer can.

Is There Anything She Can't Do??

You'll be pleased to know that creepy-face J-eating champ "Gal" Sone (ギャル 曽根) has finally launched her singing career. Something about this chick really weirds me out, and it's not just that she can eat 11 bowls of ramen in one sitting. Check out how mortified dude in the picture is. The science of how these freaks do it is actually quite interesting. I managed 34 years without watching an x-ray of 14 pounds of curry rice being digested by an 80 lb woman, how I do not know.

In related news, I just ran four miles and ate a giant bowl of bun at PPQ on Irving. Rehydrating with water is for suckers! A cold 33 was what gave the Viet Cong the edge, you know. And those black pajamas and sandals were truly a marriage of form and function. I would illustrate said wedding here if a search for Viet Cong in Google Images yielded something other than video game stills. I weep for our youth! Anyhoo, only the anti-fascists in the Spanish Civil War looked cooler.

On griffins and oysters

As this sciencey diagram of an oyster indicates, griffins of the Jeffersonian persuasion are preferred across the board. While it is billygoats who fear my brother's 4 footed, multi-taloned attack, it is the girl-griffins who are powerless against my flowing locks and wise elder statesmanship. Just ask VH1.

Wait, does my griffin have back hair? not cool, man.

Vampire Weekend

In just two short days, my blogging experiment has already devolved to this, posting about a band from Brooklyn who amalgamate the requisite disparate styles (Indie Nerd x Graceland-era South Africa, sort of), and then linking to their myspace page, no less. It's terribly cliche, I know. Chen, who knows about this and all things, says I was like six months too late and that their (reportedly excellent) live shows have long been awash with A&R types. So I'm forming my own fake highlife band, which you may join if you can play all the instruments (I am but a figurehead).

Get thither for more afro-betterness.

Billygoats the world over fear my razor sharp talons

Ivan and his fancy facial hair are going to join us. This image is a good representation of our fraternity, with me as kickass half-lion, half-eagle gryphon thing, and him as pigeon with Thomas Jefferson's face on it. BTW, if you google his full name, the only thing that comes up is his filmography a hundred times, and it says on VH-1 that his sphere of expertise is "romance." Believe it, ladies!

I will eat an animal out of spite

Because I am incredibly manly, I just don't go in for cutesy animal videos. So the posting of young otters in love is mitigated by the fact that otters are generally pretty cool, especially those sexy river otters. Those guys just want to have fun, and their coats are terribly sleek (unlike my poo magnet of a cat, Mimi). They rank very high, those river otters, in my Top Ten animals, which I will elaborate on at a later date. Let's just say the orangutan may make a surprise comeback after last year's award ceremony debacle.

Now sea otters, those fat shits, I'm not so into them. Ivan used to do an impression of a sea otter cracking open a clam using a rock for my grandparents when he was maybe five or so. Is it any wonder he turned out the way he did?? Sheesh.

Baffling addendum, that otter clip is like the fifth most blogged about thing in Japan last month. The entire country needs to get out more.