When I first saw the cover of Robbie Rox’s Earl Owns The World, I tried to pass it on to someone else. Staring up from its plastic jewel case prison was yet another terrible Photoshop job. I shuddered, and tried to force it on to Staff Member #716, who sat to my immediate right. I attempted to nonchalantly hand it to him like it was the money I owed him, but he wouldn’t even touch it. At first, he reached out without thinking,.. until he saw the Gaussian blur filter. That sent his hand reeling back, as if it were burned horribly.

To those who have seen one of David Cronenberg’s films before, it will come as no surprise that the flesh obsesses him. Not flesh alone, but flesh and technology. Whether it’s the twin doctors who make gynecological tools for mutated women in Dead Ringers, or people humping the wounds inflicted by car accidents in Crash, Cronenberg is one sick bastard,.. and I love it!

How have I never heard of New Model Army? They have that rocky, slightly Britishy, scrappy rock 'n' roll sound that I've grown to love over the years. This album is supposedly a "best of" collection. Great Expectations: The Singles Collection is probably their bestest stuff ever in the whole wide world, I'd wager.

I last saw Nada Surf back in 1996 at a swell Columbus, Ohio venue called The Newport. They were on tour to support their (to date) only hit single, "Popular", off their debut album High/Low. The main things I remember about that show are that it was a good time, and their bassist, Daniel Lorca (whom my +1 for the Milwaukee show-- tastes like chicken's own V.D. Sweazy-- said looks like John Cusack with dreads), seemed to be hitting on my then-girlfriend after their set. I come back from the bathroom to see the flirtation going on. Pfft. Rock stars.

What the fuck, Keoki? Yeah, this is D.J. here. Got a copy of your new album, Kill The D.J. I've never even met you, Keoki! Why the hate? Pfft. I don't care-- fuck you, man!

Craig Clevenger's first novel, The Contortionist's Handbook, is a lean, mean character study with a tough edge, but not without heart. At the start, we're introduced to John Vincent, Jr. But he's not going by that name when we first meet him. He's "Daniel Fletcher", one of many identities he's created for himself-- as we find out later-- and he's just overmedicated one of his periodic, massive headaches which his dad used to refer to as "god-splitters". As a result of this maybe/maybe-not accidental overdose, he's rushed to the hospital.

CDs Debbie reviewed:
Audra Kubat - Million Year Old Sand
The RZA - Birth of a Prince
Galactic - Ruckus

It would be a massive understatement to say that some things need to change for the better in this country. Why is everything so messed up? It’s exhausting to try and point the blame at every responsible party, but it doesn’t help matters that the mainstream media clouds over these public figures and their impactful foul-ups.
Like I massively understated at the beginning of this tirade: some things need to change for the better. Fortunately for all of us, the revolutionary, outspoken spirit of the Guthrie/Dylan-era 1960s has never been as noticeably present as now.

I dated this girl once. Beautiful girl. Crazy as shit. Deep down, I knew it. But goddamnit, I ignored it! Why? Because she was really, really cute. And, as is typically the case with me, I let the pretty face distract me from my gut instincts, which were yelling for me to run, Ronnie, run.
It all goes back to that “don’t judge a book by its cover” advice that librarians, Sunday School teachers, and fat people give you. Chances are, buried deep within that pretty, misleading package, is a superhuman turd of a creation. A “polished turd”, as we educated folk say.