Kiddie Records Weekly: dig them crazy album covers!

I swear, just give me a sampler, two turntables, and the budget of a small island nation so's I could stock up on vinyl like this, and I could turn out the greatest party record ever.

***

You know how I can tell the new Punisher video game is going to suck? Because they barely show any of the actual in-game screens in the commercials. It seems like it's all cut-scenes. I think they're trying to sucker people in with the graphics, only to hand them a crappy game.

Unless, of course, those are the in-game screens. In which case, this could be the greatest game ever.


***

One feature of the Xbox that I hope the PS3 will integrate: the ability to create your own soundtrack for certain games. A nice touch.

I got a fever and the only cure is...

Duce! Duce! Duce!



(for Carl)

Union Reaches Tentative Deal With Hotels

This is great news, and just made my weekend. I really hope the union got a fair deal. Kinda makes me wish I had gone to the team member gala that's going on as I type this.

Well, not really. My co-workers are fucking clownshoes. But congrats to the union! What you lacked in chants, you made up for in determination.

WHFS is dead. Long live WHFS?

As many of you local Washingtonians may know, WHFS, "modern rock" radio for the D.C. metro area, switched formats without warning, becoming El Zol, a Spanish-language station. It has, not surprisingly, outraged several locals, who now will have to look elsewhere for their Nickelback fix. I, on the other hand, fail to see what all the hub-bub is about. I understand that many moons ago, 'HFS was somewhat relevant (this would be their free form years). But in the dozen years that I've lived in this area, 'HFS has been largely forgettable, offering little more than what kids could get (with moving images!) on the MTV. It's place as a local institution aside, I see no reason to get all worked up over the format change. It's not like 'HFS was presenting music you can't find anywhere else. 'HFS had its day, and maybe if they were more interested in building a following by providing a true alternative (remember that word?) to what was out there, I'd give a good goddamn about the station's demise. But, switching from one corporate controlled format to another means little to me. It's like noticing corn in your stool: it's different, but it's still shit.

Vaya con dios, 'HFS.

As some of you may know, I work at one of the larger hotels that will be hit by the labor fallout that looms on the horizon. Today, they started to "walk and work", meaning they work their shift, then go walk a picket line on their free time. A full-blown strike could happen as soon as this weekend.

Now, I could go into a few of the more relevant issues being brought up in these discussions, or I could go into my own opinions about hotel management, the union, etc. However, I will bypass these relevant hot topics and, as always, go straight for comedy.

Worst. Chants. Ever.

I think my contribution to the revolution may have to be writing some new chants that won't make them sound like toll booth school rejects moaning the lyrics to The Banana Splits in German. (Or something equally ridiculous.) An example of their inspiring rallying cries:

"I don't know but I've been told/DC is a union town."

They also did a parody of some fight song from Remember the Titans, but I haven't seen that movie, so I can't really give any details. (My colleague informed me of the source material for that chant.)

Anyway, I really am hoping that this can be resolved before a big strike breaks out. With any luck, reason and fairness will finally make their way to the bargaining table and everybody can walk away happy. Naive? Possibly, but what else am I going to wish for?

I wonder what Snopes will have to say about this.

Mud shrimp, anyone?

I know this is a little late, but have some holiday music right here.

I coulda/shoulda x-posted this to my music blog, but this intrigues me more from a science/tech/geek standpoint than a musical one. Though, having listened to one of the tracks here ("Holy Night"), it also works on a musical level as well. That track is minimal, but the fluctuating peaks of sound has a very sensual quality to it. I probably couldn't listen to a lot of this at once, but there's enough to it that I could revisit it.

Anyway, you should probably read here before checking it out, just to get a better idea of what you're actually listening to.

Welcome to 2005.

Have been banged up the last couple of days, riding out some mild food poisoning. Consequently, blogging is not particularly high on the list of things to do when I'm home. But, thought I'd say a few words, welcome the rabble to a new year here at the clown college known as The Damian Vegas Experience (DVX in shorthand).

First, I'd like to say how much I'm enjoying (from the little I've seen; I've been napping most of this evening) USC putting a beating on Oklahoma. I'm not really a USC fan, but for some reason, I don't like Oklahoma. I have no reason. Just a hater, I guess.

The year wound up very nicely, I must say. Family-wise, this is without question one of the best Christmases I've had in some time. Everybody was there, there was no drama, and everybody seemed really happy. Plus, my nephew and I spent a lot of time together. That's always a good thing.

Work has been pretty busy, as to be expected for this time of the year in an accounting office. I will say, however, that stress-wise, it is nowhere near what I was expecting, which is a huge godsend. This food poisoning nonsense was bad enough. But if the stress had even approached last year's levels, I would have quit on the spot and probably released some of my gastro-ick in the director's office as a parting shot. (For the record, the offending food was mashed potatoes; I can't believe one of my favorite foods turned on me!)

The New Year's Eve celebration was also low-key, but very nice. JG and I made the trip up to Emmaus, where we dove into 2005 with JW, CE and his family. No twinkies were deep-fried, but I did have some apple pucker. So things balanced out.

The football season has ended. That means the fantasy football season has ended as well. Once again, I sucked in the league that counted ($$$) and won my non-money Yahoo league. Oh well, I had fun anyway.

Shameless plug: check out Missives to the Masses, SR's re-invention of his blog. It's a quality, well-written read.

Getting kinda scattered here (I mean, even for this blog), so I'm wrapping it up. Best wishes for the new year to my friends. And to my enemies: crabs. Mutant crabs laying waste to your genitalia. Resolution #1: no pulling punches in 2005! I rule you!

Kobe's Heel Turn?

Bill Simmons, over on ESPN's Page 2, suggests that Kobe "turn heel" and embrace his notoriety. That would work, except (yes, I'm about to pretend this suggestion was serious) that heel or face, you have to have charisma to get over. I've seen Kobe in interviews. He's got all the mic skills of Steve Blackman. Frankly, Kobe would probably come off more as Bob Holly than Hollywood Hogan if turned heel.

But then, I'm just a wrestling nerd. What do I know?

In your face, Patriots fans! Tom Brady could not save you!

And to the Steelers fans out there: you're welcome. Use the home-field advantage to your, um, advantage.

Yeah, I know, this is just the third win of the season. You gotta take your opportunities to gloat whenever they come. This is the best thing to come from this shitty season. Could not have happened to a better team.

Proof that Girls are Evil.

The question is, how does Ice Cube's assertion that "life ain't nothin' but bitches and money" fit here? Any of you math gangstas want to figure this out?

There's a live music review over at my music blog. Check it out, if'n you're so inclined. And then go buy Panopticon (which I'm listening to as I type this; another benefit of having a boss on vacation).

Say, have you heard of this viral marketing thing?

(See what I did there? Well, you will after you read the article, which requires a login because it's a NY Times piece.)

This bit from Shake on Aqua Teen Hunger Force (in the episode "Moon Master") is so ridiculous it's almost sublime:

"What's it called? Anal Blazer? 'Cause that's what you like to play, over and over, don't you? You know how to play it? I'll tell you. Level one's in a truckstop filled with lonely truckers! Level two's in a public restroom along the highway."

The fact that there would be a game called "Anal Blazer" nearly made me Danny Kaye my drink all over the place, but Shake's description of the levels just put it over the top. That, friends, is commitment to a bit.

Speaking of ATHF, Volume 3 of the series is now available. Go out and get some.

Hope all of you good people out there had a great Thanksgiving, however, and with whomever, you chose to celebrate. To my friends who read this, I am thankful for your wit and intelligence, because it enhances mine by association. (Ha!) Sorry, but there was no way I was going to sneak in some sentimentality without the requisite cheekiness.

I thought I had more to say, but apparently not. Hmm. Don't that beat all.

Oh wait, there is one thing: the new commercial for Jenga (with the father about to jump on top of a human pyramind comprised entirely of children) is hilarious, in the same way that Jack Black kicking a dog off of a bridge is hilarious. It's great when advertising doesn't completely suck.

Now I'm done.

Just Because

Jerry Springer: The Opera?

Reports that the production was to be called Jerry Springer in The Magic Skin Flute are completely unfounded.

Also, many critics are already starting to sing the opera's praises, saying it is "cut from the same cloth as Boito's Mefistofele" and that it is "a worthy successor to the works Britten or Rossini."

I love this game!

Man, the one time you don't want them to suspend Ron Artest, look what happens.

I'll say it up front: Ron Artest is a knucklehead. Always has been. There's no real justification for him going into the stands.

Yet, somewhat guiltily, I'm glad he did. I just wish there would have been a good few minutes of a breathtaking beatdown before being pulled off. Because, quite frankly: fuck the fans.

Yes, it was just a cup of ice. Yes, he should have just let security handle it. I'm not saying he's right. I'm just saying the fans need a good asswhuppin, and I wish they had let Artest uncage some serious violence, because jackass fans--far more than spoiled athletes--are ruining sports in this country. Hell, I won't even stop at sports: any form of live entertainment is being ruined by fans who think that the price they overpaid for admission entitles them to behave like a bunch of savages. Well fuck the lot of them. I just wish that the cup of ice had been thrown at Shaq. Not because I want to see Shaq suspended for the season, or because I wish him any ill will, but because the violence Shaq would unleash would have been hilarious and I don't see too many people in an NBA arena being able to peel Shaq off before he does damage.

And I do not even want to hear people say that professional athletes should be held to a higher standard. Any other time, people want to see athletes be humble, be like the "rest of us." They want them to pay for their crimes just like anybody else. (Just ask anybody who is still seeing red over the OJ verdict; you know they're out there.) Yet, when these athletes have a very real and human reaction, as Artest did, we expect them to be above the norm, turning the other cheek. Well, you can't have it both ways. I certainly am not repulsed by Artest's actions, idiotic though they were.

What kills me is that, not only did this fan not get the asswhipping he so deserved, he will probably try to sue Artest and get some money out of it. Yet, there's absolutely nothing that Artest can do to hurt this person financially as much as Artest is getting hurt already. That's a shame.

While the punishment meted out by David Stern are not likely to be reduced upon appeal, I would like to suggest a way to handle future cases of fan jackasserie.

If a player is hit with any foreign object thrown by a fan, the player (or players) who is hit should immediately request a video replay of the incident. You can call it a "player challenge" or something. Naturally, this would require more video surveillance of the crowd, but I don't think that should be a problem, what with all the money the league makes with suspensions and such. Once the unruly fan has been singled out on video, he should have his face put up on the Jumbotron, with the caption "Waste of Space" underneath. Then, he should be escorted down to the floor, where he must face his victim. The victim will then be given an option: strike the fan (but earn a three-game suspension) or give the fan a chance to apologize or (now strap in for funny!) soil himself. Then the fan should be kicked out of the building and barred from further events at the arena for at least one year. Before each future event, they should play a slideshow of all fans who have been banned. Any fan who spots one of these offenders in the crowd should be urged to turn him in for a small cash reward (about $500). If a barred individual is turned in at an event, he should be prosecuted for criminal trespass. And, for comedy purposes only, if the banished individual is at the same event (ie, he was banned during a Pacers game and is spotted at another Pacers game), if his victim is in attendance, the offender should be brought to the floor again, and this time, kicked square in the nuts by his previous target.

And if the offender is a woman, each arena can keep the city's, biggest, baddest bulldyke on call to administer punishments, if necessary. Heck, they could generate some serious cash by making the competition for "Female Guardian of Fan Integrity" a live event. I know I'd pay to see it.