Oh, yeah! That definitely deserves a record!

And, for as hot as it's been, it's still not a record. The record is somewhere around 111, I think, which must have been sort of unpleasant, what with the heat index and all the extras they like to factor into the weather these days.

"And with the heat index, local property tax rates, and the position of Uranus, today's high is somewhere between 97 and 130."

Shut up. It's early, I don't have to be that funny.

I guess working in a basement has its advantages, when one doesn't have to spend too long out in The Heat. But, I sometimes woulnd't mind, so long as it meant not havig to spend all day in said basement with no windows to the outside world and dull flourescent lighting instead. I do have a nice little fan next to my desk to simulate a breeze though, so it's a start.

Off topic, but no less interesting:

-I heard a story on NPR this morning about an 81-year old lady who sits in a park in Paris with a sign that says "talk to me," or words to that effect. And people will come up to her and start talking with her and each other. I think that's cool. And if people think she's a bit nutty? Well, she said the world is crazy enough already, and so she conisders it a compliment to be called such. I don't remember the exact quote, but it was kinda funny.

-I'm all signed up for the band scramble. August 27 now, so all you 21+ types can come watch. So out of our readership, I think that means you, mom.

-New Strongbad DVD. Woot.

-I have no idea who's on the ten dollar bill. Someone should give me one.



buttdance again, like the rhythm's down your pants now,
Dave

Whatever happened to Gloomy Gus?

A few snippits from dreams I had last night:

--Apaprently, mum, Mike, Steve, and myself were all living in the same house. I think Mike was there. Hard to recall exactly. For some reason, we were letting a bird live in the house with us. For the dream, it was a canary, although it was far removed from the actual look of a canary. regardless, the bird turned out to be, um, evil, as it would utter menacing phrases in a deep voice, and it apparently was altering everyone in the house save for me. I noticed this when, for he second night in a row, everyone had taco meat with a side of Fritos for dinner. I opened the door, the bird flew out, and everyone was okay again.

--I was canoeing on a river, when, lo and behold, there's Alton Brown in a little motor boat just ahead of me! I keep following him and don't really look up much. When I do, I notice someone disappear just ahead of us. Whoops! That's Niagra Falls just ahead of us! Alton stops(!) just as he hits the egde, but I can't and go over, although I manage to steer myself (in the air) to one of the small pools just to the waterfall's left side. Then I'm sitting on a couch, trying to collect my thoughts, when AB comes walking through, and starts turning off lights or something, I guess he's getting ready to leave. I announce myself and explain what happened. Then he sits next to me (turns out he's a bit heavier in person) and we're talking about...stuff. Then we're in a truck, I think, and he's driving me home in the rain, and there's Anne from work in the truck with us, and I'm thinking that Janice is going to wonder why I haven't called, since it's going on 9:30.


So, yeah. Your guess is as good as mine on that stuff. Real post to follow later if I can tear myself away from Half-Blood Prince long enough.


It's raspberry,
Dave

It's wonderful to be here, it really is a thrill

Because these are the sort of things I think about when I have too much time on my hands, I offer you this pearl, pulled straight out of my head.

Much to my horror and dismay, Gwen "No Doubt" Stefani released a solo album with the current radio favorite, "Hollaback Girl." Bad grammar aside, the song grates on my ears like a box grater. It's like....well, at the moment, I can't find the words. It's indescribably bad. It barely seems to constitute an actual song, as far as I see it, since it hardly contains any actual melody. Maybe it did at one point, but it was all stripped out in the end. The only remaining music is the acoustic giutar riff (what is it with hip-hop and acoustic guitars?) played over the 'this my shit' refrain. Tangent: radio can't play 'shit,' of course, so all you get is 'this my,' which, if you listen right, sounds like 'DeSmet.' Maybe it's just me. End Tangent And, really, it's kinda stupid lyrically in the first place. I guess someone was steppin' on her turf or something, I don't know.

But!

The worst part, I think, has to be this part:

Let me hear you say, this shit is bananas
B-A-N-A-N-A-S
this shit is bananas
B-A-N-A-N-A-S
Again, this shit is bananas
B-A-N-A-N-A-S
This shit is bananas
B-A-N-A-N-A-S

I'm sorry, but in the future, can we have a rule that lyrics must be written by actual lyric writers? Or something? Please? Jeez.

Okay. Sorry to complain so much, but I really don't like that song. I will admit to having listened to it before, mostly because I was awestruck at the sheer badness of it all.

It did, though, somehow, remind me of a lyric from an old 311 song, 'Omaha Stylee,' off the 1994 album 'Grassroots.' It may be my favorite of theirs. Musically, I think it's their strongest, and since a lof of 311 lyrica are either a bit too...metaphysical for me, or sometimes just silly, I don't count them as much in the final thought process. But I digress. Again. In the above song, there's a line that goes:

and I say know no critical border cause we do what we want
got more funky styles than my laser jet got font
not one to get over sounding like the norm
friendly to the radio, all that shit is corn
all we coming with is a little bit of swing
and we go on like it ain't no thing, and I say

Apparently, shit and fruit/vegetable comparisons are really big in the music business. Or, Gwen is ripping off 311.

Also: if you're a fan of H.B. Girl, I apologize. I still think that song is pretty, well, shitty, but if you like it, that's peachy. Or corn. Something like that.

Also also: I think we need a motto for Florissant. Maybe something like Florissant: Have We Told You About Shandi Finnessy Yet?



there's much power in anger, but loves a bigger banger
Dave

Come Fourth on July!

I have two words to describe my recent Holiday of the Month:


On weeeeeeed!!!

Yep. Fireworks: on weeeeeeed!!! Hats: on weeeeeeeed!!! So sayeth the drunk guys on the "boat" out on the lake. And hey, if you can't trust drunk guys on a sinking pontoon boat with no engine and no means of getting to shore, who can you trust?

I also rained. Heavily. For a while. Then it stopped and the humidity got our chips a bit soggy. But! I did have fun. On weed or not, I always like fireworks. I enjoy shuffleboard, even when I stink. And little kids bes cute. So there.

On weeeeeeed!!!

One of the things I often bemoan is the fact I can't see some of my favorite bands in their hey-day. A lot of acts are still touring (Rush, Stones, Blue Oyster Cult, Moody Blues, Deep Purple etc), but it's more than likely not the same as seeing them when they were, well, not quite so old. And, in some cases, still with the original members. Lynyrd Skynyrd, for example, has, I think, not one member of the original lineup left. And no one seems to mind, for some reason. Rush, though, seems to be getting better as they go, which is almost as odd as how Geddy Lee can sing like that.

Out of all the "old" groups, I most missed getting to see Pink Floyd when Roger Waters was still in the group. The classic* lineup hadn't toured since 1981, when they did The Wall, and I wasn't quite born yet. I saw Roger Waters' solo tour back in '99, and figured that would have to suffice, since the Floyd, as they were, hadn't toured since '96, and were more or less defunct, I imagine. But, as I mentioned in the last post, Bob Geldof managed to get them talking and together again for the Live 8 concert in London on Saturday. For twenty wonderful minutes, there they were: Roger, Rick, Nick, and Dave, on stage for the first time in 23 years (as long as I've been alive!), playing Breathe, Money, Wish You Were Here, and Comfortably Numb. MTV/VH1, for some reason actually showed almost all of the performance without interruption. The easily-forgettable talking heads they employ came in towards the end of CN to talk about how cool it was the Floyd were together again, which anyone watching probably knew already. They went back as Dave Gilmour played his solo, but decided to go to commercial before the song ended. Of course. I did find a video of the whole segment online, so it's okay, but still. The less said of MTV/VH1's "coverage," the better.

That said, you should all go here or here and add your name to the lists. It's quick, and it won't cost you a dime.

And that ends my socio-political segment to the post.

I think it ends my post, too.



On weeeeeeed!!!
Dave




*I can't say original, since that would require Syd Barret in the band, and not Dave Gilmour.