Pascal 101: How Technology Has Fractured The American Familia and The Case For Making The Case For Elizabeth Warren

Hi,

In case you haven't been paying attention, today is the day after July 27th, 2010.

I only point that out because if you're anything like me, you have a tendency to forget important dates. Or dates that other people think are important. Like the 14 times in my life that I've had a blisteringly mind-numbing row with a temporary significant other on account of my forgetting said soon to be former significant other's birthday. Or like how I can't ever really remember any dates of historical significance besides the year the greatest country in the history of countries to be really pissed off at wikileaks was born. That's 1776 in case you're foreign and don't want to be deported. Or if you have a really good tan and happen to be passing through Arizona.

(Editor's Note: Actually, I'm pretty good at remembering when rock and roll albums were released. But I'm not sure if releasing a rock and roll record counts as making HIStory.)

Anyway, back to me and the things I forget ...

Damn. I just forgot what I wasn't remembering.

Anyway, like I started to say... If you're anything like me, you could not have been more overjoyed to see Steve Jobs' line of iProducts come together over the last decade. Since, if you're like me, you know how much they help make you seem like you've really come a long way towards getting you s#!t together, even if you really are getting tired of the whole Safari vs. Flash business. And even though you've always wondered why it's not called iSafari. Or more pressing, why is THIS not called an iPad? Because 'ol Stevie Jobie didn't hire me as the "Consistency In Branding Czar" like I told him to, that's why.

What? There's already an iPad and Mike Grubbs was the first person in the L.E.S./Brooklyn music scene to own one? Hmm. Okay... well, let me try this google.com thing that someone told me about and see what I can find out about this so-called iPad.

"Tick-Tock. Tick-Tock. Tick-Tock."

(Editor's Note: Special thanks to Mike Vitacco and all the wonderful folks at Nutmeg Audio Post for what we in the "business" call: Sound Affects.)

(Senior Editor's Note: That's "Sound Effects".)

(Editor's Note: Oh. Thanks Ann.)

Okay. I'm back from crowd surfing the nether regions of Htmlland and here's what I've found:

I have found that I think this iPad really should've been called something else. Like, how about: "iPuter"? This way you could download the free third party application "Atomic Fart" and then invite all your friends over and say things like: "Hey Jimmy, check out the atomic farts coming from my iPuter!"

In the interests of full disclosure, I don't have any friends named Jimmy. But I do have a cousin named Jimmy who once fell off of a telephone pole and spent a few months walking around with a cast on his head. That's actually my first memory of him. If you never had a cousin named Jimmy who walked around for a few months with a cast on his head, you should look at the life-like, water-marked for copyright protection, digital representation of what happens when you fall off of a telephone pole pictured below ...

In unrelated news, today is pretty special. For starters, today marks 100 Days that God has been making a point against gay marriage by filling the Gulf Of Mexico with something called: The fundamental component of pretty much everything you use on a given day. Or, put it another way: The building "block" of of pretty much everything you use on a given day. Or perhaps, the corner "stone" of pretty much everything you use everyday.

(Editor's Note: Before you go getting all in a huff and start throwing a temper tantrum over my "incorrect" use of "quotations" in the preceding two sentences, I'll have you know that I'm pretty sure I've thought this through and I'm pretty certain that I'm using them correctly on account of employing what I'd like to call a "creative device" in order to highlight certain words based on the current vernacular and thus inform the reader that said "quotated" words might just be getting the literary "quotation" treatment for an instructive reason.)

The astute among you are surely not wondering why I put quotations marks around the words "block" and "stone". Those of you who are too busy buying the "Nylon Tricot High-Waist Swim Brief" for your hot girlfriend from americanapparel.net should click anywhere on the rest of this sentence.

In the interest of full disclosure, I've honestly completely forgotten why I "quotated" those words. Unfortunately, I can't be here all day re-writig every little thing in order for it to make "sense" to you, so you'll just have to imagine that I'm making it. "Sense" that is.

Anyway, it's hard to believe you're still reading this. And speaking of reading, today I woke up and read the message from my iCal alarm as displayed on my iPhone (which was of course synched to what obviously should be called my iMacBook so that I got to read it again when I turned that on). Fresh from a restful night of oh so peaceful things that my former therapist called "anxiety dreams", I took a little trip down something I like to call: "The Last 17 Years of Matt Basile's Memory Lane". And as I remembered all things I never got to ask my dad, I did stop for a moment to thank Steve Jobs and his ilk for putting the benefits of modern technology within the buying power reach of middle class men such as myself. Along the way, helping me to remember the things I used to forget.

Oh, and since I did used to forget, I used that http://www.google.com thing I told you about before just to make sure I didn't have the date wrong last year when my former therapist suggested that remembering things could prove to be an important part of something she called: "Your Healing Process, Matthew". As it turns out, this time I remembered right:

Mwah!

M

California 101: A-Cappella Blues

Hi,

So, I just got "home" and I'm just writing because I know you miss me and that Peter Sagal hasn't sent a twitter update in about a day or so. Anyway, when I was waiting on the subway platform to go "home" there was this guy doing a pretty lame version of a song off of Dookie. I forget which. It was a good one I'm sure. Because all those songs from Dookie are pretty good. Even though his version was pretty much crap, I didn't really mind on account of knowing that the train was scheduled to arrive in ... four ... teen ... minutes and then I'd be on my way "home". You can imagine the way my face looked when the guy, who had since moved on to a pretty crap version of some crappy Sugar Ray song that I really thought I was never gonna have to ever hear again, steps into the car that I just stepped into and announces: "The Party Is About To Start!" Or Something. He then breaks into a Michael Jackson medley that is pretty much crap and if it weren't for the guy who jumped up and started pole dancing as if he were Michael Jackson working as a stripper I probably would've paid the guy ten bucks just to shut up. But alas, how often to you actually get to be on the subway car when it turns into a scene from a musical where some black dude is playing Beat It while the other black person on the train starts dancing as if he were Michael Jackson working as a stripper and all the white people actually do a pretty good job of clapping in time?

Anyway, when the train got to the stop that puts me closest to "home", I got out. And just as I was walking through the turnstile I found myself slowed to a snail's pace. Instantly I was transformed into the weird guy walking really slow out of the subway station at 12:30 am looking like he doesn't have anywhere to go. But honest, I actually do kinda have a "home" and it's very much where I was headed. But you see, there was this guy meticulously singing the crap out of "Sloop John B." al by his lonesome. In the forthcoming embedded digital representation of four other guys singing the crap out of Sloop John B., you will be hearing a version that is probably a decidedly better a-cappella version than the version I heard tonight. Unless you were there and you were reminded of "home". Or something.

Mwah!

M

Philosophy 101: Death And Dying and The Case For Occasionally Counting Your Blessings

Hi,

Since I know how much you hate your life, I'd like to take this opportunity to talk about someone who won't be emulating you, complaining about the great life he used to be living, anymore.

Shortly after moving, err, driving as fast as my four hundred dollar 1980 Pontiac Bonneville that I am pretty sure I bought from a friend who is now a lawyer in his dad's law firm would take me away from the palatial waste-land that is Melbourne, Florida I became pretty well hooked on listening to NPR. In hindsight, I can only presume this was due to emulating a gentleman by the name of C_ _ _ _ C_ _ _ _ _ _. You see, C_ _ _ _ C_ _ _ _ _ _ was a counselor to a friend of mine and since I was so impressionable and looked up to my friend so much, C_ _ _ _ C_ _ _ _ _ _ was the person in my young male adulthood I chose to try and replace my dad with because I didn't think that he was superman anymore. In short, C_ _ _ _ C_ _ _ _ _ _ would sit contemplatively listening to NPR on sunny afternoons in sunny Tallahassee, FL and soon thereafter, so did I. Funny enough, I eventually came to realize that my dad was a pretty freakin' cool dude, even if he did make us move to stupid Florida. And another funny enough is that even after C_ _ _ _ C_ _ _ _ _ _ and I didn't see each other so much anymore, I developed an appreciation for NPR that one might accurately describe as genuine. To this day I find a kind of comfort whenever I hear the pinko-commie ramblings of the left wing NPR conspiracy coming through the radio. Just like I did when at the age of eighteen, I had a job making $4.68 per hour washing moving trucks. That was back when the greatest president I ever voted for was trying to get his wife to spearhead something called Universal Healthcare. And yes, even though I have listened to NPR through iTunes for about the last 4 years, I still call it the radio. Even though it doesn't sound as good and sometimes I miss part of a story because I have to restart my modem.

(Editor's Note: You can find information about Father/Son relationships by clicking on this sentence.)

Anyway, since you're so self absorbed, you probably need me to tell you more about how a person can start to have a kind of relationship with the disembodied voices coming through the radio year after year. But I'm not gonna tell you about all the times I found comfort from a small cadre of familiar voices because they are, quite frankly, none of your damn business.

Like the time when I was nineteen and the dad I took so long to realize was such a cool guy died all of a sudden and I just kind of sat around in a daze for seven months listening to NPR for five hours a day. I'm not gonna tell you about that.

Or the time when I was twenty five and driving around Los Angeles all the time, listening to NPR for five hours a day, because I had a new dead end job as a messenger and spent a lot of time wondering just what in the hell I was doing with my life and why in the hell some dudes would want to start shooting their fellow classmates and when is my stupid band gonna get a record deal and not knowing what to say to the LAPD when I got pulled over and they asked me why doesn't my 1988 Nissan pick-up truck have a front bumper? I'm not gonna tell you about that either.

Or the time when I was thirty years old and I had to move back to LA for a job at a recording studio that I hated almost as much as I hated pretty much everything about the life that I had not lived to it's potential, and I would pretend that I had some important errand to run so that I could drive around aimlessly listening to NPR while getting paid less than I thought I was worth but more than could be amortized. That's just, as I said, none of your business so don't even ask.

(Editor's Note: As a matter of clarification, no one with the author's socioeconomic background ever really "had" to take that job in a Los Angeles recording studio. In fact, the studio was in Santa Monica. Which is technically a city all it's own. Which isn't even a technicality. It's just a fact. Anyway, for more information about taking responsibility for your own life and successfully navigating the many and varied choices you'll be making along the way, you can click on the convenient link to amazon.com in the bottom right margin of this page and when you get to the amazon.com home page, type in the words "the power of now", "the road less traveled" and "who moved my cheese" into the search field and buy all the books related to said queries. Not only will you soon be on your way to annoying the crap out of your friends at some quaint East Village cafe with stories of how you've learned to have compassion for the little boy inside you, but you will also be contributing a little something I like to call: My Income.)

Anyway, on Friday July 23rd, 2010, the last living of "Murrow's Boys", Daniel Shorr died. Since he was 93 years old, I can't really say "that really sucks" or anything. But still. It made me pause. And it also made me listen to a 54 minute memorial/collection of interviews on NPR that you're not even gonna listen to so I don't really know why I thought about giving you a link to it. So I won't.

In unrelated news, here's the link to the Daniel Shorr memorial thing that you were asking about: http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=128565997

In related news, I have updated the "Some Places You'll Find Less Interesting" section of the greatest website in the history of websites that your hot mom reads.

And speaking of the retiring Tony Hayward, it appears that The Rolling Stones will retire in 2012. You can read about that and autographed latrines at a website called Music Television.

In unrelated opinions, Mick Jagger is the best singer in rock and if you don't agree I will meet you on the playground at 3:15 and beat the crap out of you and who's army.

Finally, since you've been wondering, there's a variety show called The Old Fashioned Ladies Club starting up on August 18th. I'll be bombarding the world with information filled html bombs starting on August 1st. In the meantime, you can ask me about it and how you can be involved. Because, you can be involved. Provided you want to be. And provided I want you to be involved. Kind of like the new, and first, OFLC sponsor. We just sealed the deal last night. They wanted to be involved. And we wanted them to be involved. So now The OFLC has a presenting sponsor. Sometimes life is so good I feel like I have air conditioning even though I don't.

I'm gonna go eat now because I am getting cross-eyed.

Mwah!

M

Air Travel 101: WAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!! And The Case For Child Proof Muzzle

Hi,

(Editors Note: The following example of excellence in journalism has been corrected from it's previous version which contained various sins of html link omission due in large part to the issues outlined in the "Editors Note" below and also to my apparent inability to develop a consistent editorial process or enough patience to proofread.)

(Editor's Note: The following example of excellence in journalism was originally written at about 3am this morning but the stupid people at googledotblogspotdotcouldipossiblygetalongerurlplease.com/html made their new and improved piece of crap "design editor" the default "design editor" and everything was looking decidedly like someone who didn't know how to design a blog if it meant that he'd have to fight his way out of a wet paper bag because his life depended on it or find a good enough excuse to even write anything for the last 14 days.)

In today's installment of "Yeah, Right!" ...

Apparently the one and only wonderful Becky Wunder cooked up a little something special in recognition of the many years of public service, including groundbreaking activism in the sphere of racial justice as it relates to The University Of Georgia, and also the birthday, of one Vernon Jordan. I've provided that there link that will tell you pretty much all you're gonna want to know about 'ol Vern 'cuz I know you're either too young to remember the greatest president that I ever voted for or you were too busy not being busy with anything but counting all the money you were making in the nineties. Anyway, while dining with friends, Mr. Jordan, who should not be confused with the Assistant Manager of _______ ____ Hall, for said birthday, Ms. Wunder apparently topped off her show of gratitude and general admiration for the man with a standing ovation inducing display. Those standing to applaud the wonderful Ms. Wunder included none other than flat tax espousing presidential hopeful Steve Forbes. Or Something.

Anyway, I've seen the wonderful Ms. Wunder's, ummm, blog before. And I'm here to tell you that her moonlighting happens during the day.

And speaking of how taxing it is to make some things flat, I bring you today's installment of "Oh, Man. Really? I Mean Really? Was I Really Just Complaining About Having To Listen To A Girl Cry On The Airplane Because She Apparently Missed Her Father When All I Had To Do To Rid Myself Of The Distraction Was Put On My New Headphones That Pretty Much Block Out Any And All Sound That I Don't Want To Interfere With Presence By Led Zeppelin?" ...

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2010/07/23/teenage-girls-undergo-bre_n_656965.html

In related news, the forthcoming photo from my trip to San Francisco is a digital representation of an artistic rendering of several muni tickets and an overpriced MOMA ticket:

In unrelated news, the forthcoming photo from my trip to San Francisco is a digital representation of a page from a Kindlized book I read during my trip about a band who are half dead which you can conveniently purchase if you go to the link to amazon.com on the bottom right margin of this page and then type or copy and paste the words "here, there and everywhere" into the search field:

Finally, and speaking of Glenn Beck, here is a photo of something for which you could be called a racist if you were foolishly found finding funny:

And since you were asking, this is a photo highlighting San Francisco's growing "Use Of Toy Cum Suicide In Order To Make Unrelated Point" epidemic:

In related news, this photo from my trip to San Francisco is a digital representation of an artistic rendering of another book I've been reading and which helped distract me from the scream-fest going on in seat 30B. In case the rendering is too artistic for you, the first line of the page says something to effect of: "My ole (sic) man's so mean he hates hisself! (sic)" On another line on this page, this kid, who's doing the talking, relates his mom's response to his dad's inkling to tie him up in a gunny sack and "smoke 'em." Apparently she says something to the effect of: "Don't you come treating no chile of mine like no slave." End quote. Oh man, I wish I had an air conditioner.

Mwah!

M

P.S. I think the whole Shirley Sherod thing is about as unhip as pretty much everyone else who fancies his or herself able to attach logic to a given problem ...

P.P.S. And if doesn't go without saying, yeah, I think not only is it total crap that she got fired but I also agree with you that Andrew B. should totally get punched in the balls the next time any of us see him in a bar ...

P.P.P.S. But as much as I'd like to get a call from The Big O. on my cell phone in lieu of the endless stream of nausea inducing twitter updates "he" seems to have so much time to be typing ...

P.P.P.P.S. I wonder if someone could explain to me why she deserves a call from the President?

P.P.P.P.P.S. And further more, does she actually believe that he needs to go to Atlanta in order to learn a thing or two about how "normal" people in this country are living?

P.P.P.P.P.P.S. Yeah, yeah, yeah I know where the buck stops.

P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S. But something tells me she like the spotlight.

P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S. And maybe the sound of her own voice.

Since you asked...

No, she hasn't stopped screaming pretty much since we got on the plane.
That was almost four hours ago.
Not a typo.
Sent from my imBasilePhone

And another thing (since I'm stuck for another hour and twenty minutes with this screaming brat of a girl) ...

You might as well know that this little girl is still screaming at the top of her lungs.
Sent from my imBasilePhone

Live blogging my flight home from San Fran...

Hi,
Today marks the fourteenth consecutive flight I have taken with a cigarette lighter. While I'm generally more than happy to accept credit for things I haven't really accomplished, I must, this once, confess to no special skill set. But after squeezing in a few thoughts between the loudest screams you ever heard on an airplane coming from what I'm sure is normally a well enough behaved 3 year old girl, I've got two theories as to why no one ever finds the flame making device in my back pack.
1. Gross ineptitude.
2. Blatant racism.
Or maybe...
3. Classism.
That's three theories, if you're either...
A. Counting
Or ...
B. Nasty
Anyway, when I'm on the sidewalk having a puff just moments after I step off this god forsaken scream infested tube, I'll be thanking the gods not only for being for being born Caucasian, but also that I could afford to buy a new sport coat from h and m for my little getaway from not really having to work for the last 6 months. Oh yeah, and also that in airports across the country, the people in charge of my safety are doing about as good of a job as the woman next to me is doing to get her daughter to shut the dkfkdkksjdjdajhgjdfkfm up!
Mwah!
M

Sent from my imBasilePhone

Live blogging my flight to San Fran... Page 3

Man, there sure are a lot of foreigners on this flight.
I wonder if this girl next to me from whatever not American country she's from knows she's about to get drooled on by a middle aged American for the next 6 hours starting in about 2 mi.....,,,,,, .. .
Sent from my imBasilePhone

Live blogging my flight to San Fran... Page 2

Success! This makes 13 consecutive flights where I've gotten through "security" with a cigarette lighter.
Oh, and I kinda lied about what time my flight was so that I could get out of the stupid line and get into the stupid that got us to the X-ray scanners faster.
Now I'm gonna get some burger king.
Sent from my imBasilePhone

Live blogging my flight to San Fran... Page 1

If the girl in line behind me in the stupidest security line ever says "this line is outrageous" one more time, she may or may not get strangled.
Sent from my imBasilePhone

I'll give you 38 cents if you can tell me the origin of the following quote...

"I also find I just spend a lot less time on my phone in general. It's like I'm just hanging, enjoying the moment....taking it all in...owning it!! . No distractions, just pure living over here. I mean when you find a place like the west village, that's really all you can do. Just live in the moment...live it, love it, like they always say! I mean, call it cliche, but once you've been here...seen it, smelled it, you can't help but realize why the cliches are so true. Stop and smell he flowers matt, you're in the west village, and life is beautiful!!!!!!!!!!! ™"
Sent from my imBasilePhone

Minimalism 101: Pete Sessions, NRCC Chair, Stumbles, Turns To Bush Agenda When Asked How GOP Would Cut Deficit

Hi,

The girls sitting next to me are talking about how they "think it's really healthy" that they don't really confide in each other so much anymore since they both have boyfriends. Now they're saying things like "I hate growing up."

Anyway, I can't remember what I did so far today. Most likely it involved drooling and or a round or two of Tony Hawk's Pro Skater 2. I got over 100,000 points once, but I forgot to save that session. Now every time I turn the game on it says that my highest score is only 96,372. It's pretty annoying. I'd rather it said the 111,234 points that I got the other day but forgot to save.

Since you apparently have nothing better to do with your time, how about we play a little bit of "next blog" ...

Today's installment of "next blog" finds us in the fantastical world of Victoria. This self described artist and mom is also a big believer in fairy tales. Apparently, she is also a fairy tale maker. And she thinks there's nothing in this great fairy tale of world quite like a home grown breakfast followed by a mother's hug. Next time I go "next blog"-ing, remind me to wear a bib to catch all of the puke I keep puking on the only button down shirt I was able to save from when my apartment burnt down last week. Oh, I meant the week before last. My sense is that the statute of limitations for being felt sorry for is about to run out. I must say, it was pretty fun while it lasted. I hated that awesome turn table I used to own anyway.

Hang on. Someone is sending me a text message.

Okay. I'm back. And I just got an email. Apparently, my ship has come in! This guy named kenny-huynh@sbcglobal.net has written to tell me that: "1,000,000.00 GBP has been awarded to your email ID by British Tobacco Promo"

And all I have to do to get the money is: "Send details for claims Purpose"

NAME..

OCCUPATION..

COUNTRY..

You think I should include my mailing address too? Maybe he'll just send me the money via paypal once he knows what country I live in? Anyway, I bet you wish you were me and opened your email inbox to find that your ship had finally come in huh?

In related news, it seems that the rumors are true. Dwayne Wade, alpha dog of the team that everyone is super excited to see Lebron James play on next year, is a terrorist.

In unrelated news. The greatest basketball player in the history of people who make my mom say things like "See, he seems like a nice black man..." thinks that Kobe Bryant is also a nice black man, and agrees that I am definitely taller than Derek Fisher.

Anyway, since you asked, I finally culled through the more than 328 resumes and cover letters submitted for The Old Fashioned Ladies Club regarding a job posting that I never even posted. Written in what appears to be Martian, here is the most creative of the cover letters:

Since the resume above was obviously from a proud graduate of SVA's "MFA Designer As Author" degree, I've decided to "hire" the following intern. Don't tell him that his brother is giving us money to pay him though. It's important that he feel like he's actually getting some kind of reward for actually attempting to apply himself. Anyway, here is his resume. I'm sure you'll agree that he is worthy of such an arrangement:

And speaking of Eurythmics, The Olsen Twins and Human Punching Bags ... you shouldn't need me to tell you that The Old Fashioned Ladies Club debuts at on Wednesday, August 18th. And as soon as _________ gets off his butt and starts reading HTML For Dummies, we'll have a website that does more than just win an award for minimalism but also gives you some information about what it is we'll be doing. For now, enjoy my award winning adventure into the world of verbosity.

Oh crap, I gotta go. I have a date with the sun in Union Square.

Mwah!

M

Filibuster 101: The Case For Extending The Census Employment Bubble

Hi,

A quick late-ish night post with some late breaking news about the oil spill ...

If you're anything like me, you love a good pair of flip flops. I'm here to tell you that today I purchased the best pair of flip flops I've ever had. Operative word being best. I say that because you and I both know that I already told you that I bought them today. What I didn't tell you then is that the $1.00 flip flops I bought today are the best I ever had. That's what makes best the operative word. And of course it's just further fodder and/or grist for the grill for drill, drill, drill, drill baby drill because we all know that the best flip flop you're ever gonna get ain't gonna cost 50 cents if it's made from hemp. Pure petroleum. That's what they're made of.

Oh, and for all you people who have been working for the census and are wondering about how many weeks you're gonna be able to go to yoga 5 times a day as part of the $405 club, I just learned a little tidbit about a certain Senator that one would assume would have been the filibuster blocking vote in the debate over extended unemployment insurance. And I quote ... with a bunch of sentences that can be clicked on to take you to the actual article I was just reading after walking to the fourth place I've stayed since my apartment burned down wondering why it was that everything in the US Senate is filibustered but no one actually has to actually filibuster and thus stop the government from working thus making it a really freaking big deal to filibuster:

The major change in Senate rules that made possible the modern filibuster occurred under the leadership of Robert Byrd during his first stint as Majority Leader. Byrd introduced the concept of "dual tracking" under which the Senate could have two or more bills under floor consideration at any one time. Prior to this change, a filibuster ended floor consideration of all other bills until the one being filibustered had been disposed of. No appropriations, no nominations, no unanimous consent agreements, no nothing. All Senate business came to a dead halt during a filibuster, which raised the stakes on the members conducting the filibuster exponentially. The pressure that would be brought to bear if the entire Senate ground to a halt was one of the reasons filibusters were so rare.

Once Byrd changed the rules to allow dual tracking, filibusters became almost pain free. A Senator simply had to announce they intended to filibuster and the Majority Leader would use his dual track authority to move to other business and get around the road block. Over time, most leaders simply did a whip check and declined to schedule a bill if a filibuster was possible..

The dual-track authority is a fairly big piece of the puzzle. But the question, in part, is why it's been allowed to stand. Both Hill experts and political scientists argue that the reason, basically, is that the Senate has things to do. The frequency of the filibuster means that ending the dual tracking would be the same as shutting down the government. It would be a high-stakes showdown over a Senate rule change, which is not something that many in the Senate have evinced much interest in attempting.

But this is how the filibuster was normalized into a 60-vote requirement. Byrd responded to the slight uptick in filibusters by making it much easier and cheaper to filibuster, rather than leading a fight to make it much harder to filibuster. But he saw that as streamlining the process. It's not like the minority was going to filibuster everything. It just wasn't done.

Robert Byrd. Come for the apologies about youthful indiscretions. Stay for the inability to actually make people do what it is they say they are doing.

Mwah!

M

P.S. This new digital representation of an album's worth of musical ideas from LCD Soundsystem that I stole through Vuse is pretty cool.

P.P.S. Yeah, there's a few Talking Heads moments.

P.P.P.S. But I really like Talking Heads so I guess I don't really care that much.

P.P.P.P.S. Go ahead. Arrest me.

P.P.P.P.P.S. Andy has stage fright about The Old Fashioned Ladies Club.

American Literature 101: Mitch McConnell Refuses To Discuss Tea Party Racism: 'I Have Got Better Things To Do'

Hi,

You may find this surprising but, I'm not a fan of photos of men's feet. With that in mind, I'll spare you a photo of how good my feet look since I clipped my toenails with the new nail clippers I bought this morning to replace the ones that I used to own but lost last week when my apartment went up in flames. Oh, did I not tell you about how I plan to use my apartment blowing up for all the would-be humor I can milk it for? Well, it did and I do.

Anyway, I've been thinking a lot today about how good my toenails look since I cut them and started walking around all day in my new $1.oo flip flops that I bought this morning to replace the ones I used to own but lost last week when my apartment went up in flames. Man, that was pretty freakin' weird. Did I tell you about that? No? Oh, well, it wasn't really a big deal. I didn't really need all those chord charts for all the different people I play bass for anyway.

Anyway, I am listening to Gil Scott-Heron's album "I'm New Here". Actually, I kinda keep going back to this one track. I guess it's the 10th one on the album. I'll post it below this paragraph and I don't really give a damn if someone tries to arrest me for that because my apartment burnt down and I'm kinda in a bad mood. And by the way, my bad mood doesn't mean I wasn right to get all mad and walk out of the room yesterday. But now that I think of it ... actually, I was 100% right. Probably more like 110%. Anyway, if you listen to this Gil Scot-Heron track and it's not obvious to you why someone would keep replaying it ... I guess you and I are really never gonna work out on account of the fact that you are either deaf or you have bad taste in pretty much everything aural.

And speaking of dying and New York city, one of my favorite books that I used to own but lost last week when my apartment went up in flames is called Invisible Man, by Ralph Ellison. Since I like that book so much but didn't really wanna buy it again since I had already read it, albeit about 8 years ago and have thus pretty much forgotten everything except the fact that I liked the fact that the end was in the beginning, I decided to restart my book collection today with a fun trip to The Strand where I picked up a copy of Ralph Ellison's "Flying Home and Other Stories". The astute among you will notice that I have not applied the standard html link application to neither "Ralph Ellison" nor "Flying Home and Other Stories". This is because I know you're smart enough to know that you can just copy and paste the words "Ralph Ellison" or "Flying Home and Other Stories" into the "search" field at amazon.com which can be clicked to by following the convenient link in the bottom right hand margin of this page. And assuming you buy the book, or anything else for that matter, from amazon.com, assuming you got there by clicking on the convenient link provided by me, you will be contributing to something I like to call: My Income.

Anyway, the first story in "Flying Home and Other Stories" is not the namesake of the book. Instead, the editors creatively placed a bit of light reading called "A Party Down At The Square" in the beginning of the book. As you may have guessed from the title, this story takes place in a town square. I haven't finished the story so I'm not entirely sure what town we're talking about. I think it might be in Alabama. Maybe you know where this is going. I sure didn't. When I was a kid in Connecticut we used to go to a party, down at the square, that we called "Mt. Carmel". It was a big flaming W.O.P. fest. I'd hang out getting powdered sugar from the fried dough all over my shirt and beg my dad for 75 cents to ride the miniature ferris wheel. Sometimes there would be a Neil Diamond cover band too. My Aunt Vincenza loves Neil Diamond. I could never decide if "They're Coming To America" was an amazing song or one of the best comedy routines I ever heard. For the sake of argument, let's just say it's both.

As I was saying, "A Party Down At The Square" is all about how this kid is gonna get burned alive and what can only be described as "pretty much all the white people in town" are standing around cheering on the fact that this kid who's name may or may not be a word that rhymes with "bigger" is, to put it another way, about to get set on fire. While he's still alive. Anyway, the town people call this kid the name that sounds like "trigger" but begins with an "n" and only has an "r" at the end of it so many times that you start to think there was a certain time and place in American history where people wouldn't have been offended by anything Mel Gibson said to his ex-girlfriend. If you don't believe me, you should click my link to amazon.com and buy the book yourself. Or you could just ask Mel Gibson's ex-wife since she seems to think that the guy who started dating this girl ...

... after what can only be described as two lonesome and gruelingly long months out of their 30 years of marriage is a real stand up guy.

Anyway, if I don't eat something in the next five minutes I might actually pass out. Assuming I wake up after said passing out, I'll be here working on The Old Fashioned Ladies Club which, incidentally, is only 30 days away from becoming the latest club.

Mwah!

M

P.S. Apparently this happened at Luke Wesley's Fourth of July party ...

P.P.S. Which may or may not have been the party where I taught his hot mom how to dance ...

P.P.P.S. ...

Combat Readiness 101: Black Capris And What We Think Are New Black Sandals

Hi,

Good morning (if you live on the west coast, which I do not) from the coffee shop that makes me feel like I'm in Connecticut even though I'm only 12 blocks from what used to be my apartment where I used to keep a couple pretty stylish size 36R suits from Zara and one more conservative size 36R suit from Kenneth Cole (which I found scouring the sale rack at the largest department store in the world back in 2002). Those suits were most recently useful for sandwiching a pretty bitchin' blueish-black leather jacket that had one unwieldy collar. So I carefully hung the jacket between them in an effort to "train" said collar to lie flat against the shoulder/breast area so that I would look cooler than someone who's leather jacket collar was just sticking out like a mushroom boner.

In unrelated news, here's a pretty recent photo of me on stage with a band called Mother Feather that you can come see tomorrow night at Bowery Electric looking cool in the blackish-blue leather jacket that I don't own anymore:

This is another picture of me looking pretty cool in the blueish-black leather jacket that I bought at Buffalo Exchange one day when I was hanging out with my friend _________ while her boyfriend ________ was playing competitive frisbee with a bunch of other grown men:

Oh, and since you asked, here's a photo of me at my friend Bryan's wedding, respectively dancing with his hot wife and hitting on his hot mom while wearing one of the pretty cool suits from Zara that I used to own. I think it's pretty obvious from these digital representations of the moments we shared together that these women thought I looked pretty damn good in that suit I used to own too:

And speaking of things way more important than how you look to me for distraction from the dead end job your father warned you about ending up with when you decided to drop out of college and go backpacking with a $1300 Euro-Pass for the better part of 2006, the Huffington Post is today once again proving that there really is no ends of the earth to which they won't travel in order to bring you the news you need to make the best of the precious life your spoiled little brat of an ungrateful heart should be thankful to be living. Clicking on this sentence will do something called "link" you to the above referenced very important article. However since you and every one of your Aunts and Uncle's who are constantly whispering under their breath about how you've really not gotten anywhere in life and how it's such a shame because you really were such a bright kid knows, you're probably not gonna even take the time to read this very important news of the day that someone got paid in real American dinero's to report on, I have decided to provide you with the crux of the article with the following photograph and accompanying caption:

"The Obamas left for Bar Harbor, Maine on Friday morning looking like a fashionable clan! Michelle wore an embellished tank with black capris and what we think are new black sandals. She carried a blue tote. The President shed his tie and the girls looked like stylish teens."

In related news, I will also be performing at the 9pm show tomorrow night at Bowery Electric with someone who seems to think he's a real swell guy.

Zzzzzzzzz ...

And speaking of speaking in tongues and/or fashion, today marks one of those rarified moments where we commend Bill O'Reilly as he actually provides some semblance of balance to a little known TV network called FOX News:

Finally, in today's final installment of "Things I Found On The Huffington Post Blog To Appropriate For Use On My Own Blog" ...

The good folks at the Blog who's owner has a really sexy accent are today paying tribute to a concept I like to describe to as a kind of economy-of-color-shape-and-form-in-the-arena-of-creative-visual-and-or-aural-would-be-art-when-or-intended-for-use-and-or-appreciation-by-mass-audience-and-or-monetization but for some reason they obliquely refer to as "less is more". That's right kids, it's time to honor achievements in black and white website design!!!! How excited are you? I know. Me too. And guess who won? Well, before we get to that, let me show you who didn't win. Example number one, from some hack you can find by clicking on the following photo of his hack website:

Next we present a website that can only be described as Zzzzzzz..."

Our last example of balck and white websites that are not the best balck and white website ever maintains a level of suckiness that would best be honored as the winner for overall suckiness:

And finally, the moment you've been waiting for in between whipping the the drool off of your girlfriend's fashionable new cable knit sweater, the winner of The Huffington Post's "Best Black And White Web Site In The History Of Things That Matt Basile Does A Better Job At Than Pretty Much Anyone Else You're Ever Gonna Meet Because You Never Applied Yourself." Go ahead and click on the screen shot of the "Best Black And White Web Site In The History Of Things That Matt Basile Does A Better Job At Than Pretty Much Anyone Else You're Ever Gonna Meet Because You Never Applied Yourself" to experience the site in all it's html glory:

Mwah!

M

P.S. The Old Fashioned Ladies Club debuts on August 18th at Rockwood Music Hall.

P.P.S. Maybe you'd like to be a part of it?

P.P.P.S. Send me a note, or talk to Jordan at Rockwood Music Hall.

P.P.P.P.S. The US Army has taken a dramatic step toward providing some needed support for the good men and women who are risking their lives over in a place called Afghanistan.

P.P.P.P.P.S. In lieu of doing something as meaningless as withdrawing from what can only be described as an exercise in nation building futility, the powers that be have put the greatest of the greatest minds in military dominance together and produced a 20 minute video on suicide prevention.

P.P.P.P.P.P.S. Here's a paraphrased quote from one of the 32 mom's that lost her son to suicide in the month of June...

P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S. "Thanks a lot."