Constitutional Amendments 101: Each Morning I Get Up, I Die A Little

Hi,

Please say hello to my new house plant, purchased as a replacement for my old house plant. It's called a money tree. And in theory, or as legend has it, or something, this plant is purported to bring not only money but general good luck to it's caretaker. One assumes that is predicated on said caretaker not killing said plant. I'll keep you posted.

In the meantime, here is a digital representation of my new house plant next to it's cousin, my new 1958(ish) Westinghouse AM Radio...

I'm not really sure what that stain is on the shelf under my new plant. Eventually I'll get around to painting this joint. Cut me some slack would you? Jeez. I can't do everything on your schedule okay?

Speaking of taking my sweet time, last night I finally took a break from positively visualizing my future success and got around to watching Barry's speech wherein he felt it necessary to point out that said speech was the fulfillment of a campaign promise. For some reason he is afraid that people aren't actually paying attention to things that are happening. I can't imagine why.

Apparently before Mr. Big Shot POTUS made his big speech, he called the last guy that got to decorate the Oval Office to ask his opinion on the new drapes that he and Michelle picked out, and to apologize for not including one of his inspirational quotes on the new rug that probably cost a fortune and of course, to ask him if he thought it was in bad taste to say something to the affect of "... It is important to point out, just in case you didn't hear me during the 27 month campaign for POTUS that I ran, that I, Mr. Big Shot POTUS totally disagreed with the last POTUS about going to war in Iraq in the first place ..." while making a speech about what one might describe as a pretty freaking solemn moment for our country. I mean, yeah, it's great we are "drawing combat operations to a close" and all... that's freaking awesome. But, I don't know, it was off-putting to me. The politicking, that is. Sorry. Next time I'll try to find a funny way to say that.

Zzzzzzzz...

Anyway, in case you forgot, right after the aforementioned speech, about 360 Million people all held hands across the cultural and racial and socio-economic divides that so intricately weave our great nation together into the great band of brother/sister/person/transgenderhood of freedom loving free people that we are in a great American Pie sized chorus of "Kumbaya".

In the event that you don't have any feelings, or are otherwise foreign, you may not be familiar with the song "Kumbaya". If that's the case, you should click on the following bit of text that looks like a hyperlink: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kumbaya

In case you didn't click on the aforementioned hyperlink, the description of "Kumbaya" says that it's a popular song to sing when boys are in The Scouts. I for one never sang "Kumbaya" in Cub Scouts. That's probably because I got kicked out after blurting, in an Emmy worthy impersonation of my dad, some or another insensitive remark towards our Den Mother about her being Jewish. I count that episode among the things in life that I regret. But I don't really beat myself up about it since I was just a little boy at the time and now I'm all grown up and I've learned to gauge whether or not the person I am about to direct an insensitive racial, ethnic or religious slur towards will think that what I am saying is funny and not want to kick me out of whatever unconstitutionally exclusive club we happen to be a part of.

Anyway, apparently some dude named "stryderzer0" was not only singing Kumbaya louder than everyone else on August 31st, but is also a really good gauge of the sensitivities of Mr. President Obama:

And speaking of people who really need to get a life, yesterday I spent about 13 hours looking at my google analytics and was pretty impressed that a certain website that talks about the things I think about was googled by people in the following places I had never been to:

India.

Brazil.

Mexico.

Denmark.

Damn. Being famous is pretty cool.

Oh dear, would you look at the time?!?!?! I've got to go to a rehearsal where I am the second best bass player in the band.

Mwah!

M

P.S. Today is this dead singer's birthday:

Graphic Design 101: Thank God Other People Have So Much Time On Their Hands

Hi,

Thank you Kevin Anderson for my new iTunes icon.

For the record, green is only my second favorite color.

It'll have to do, I suppose. Until you make an orange version.

Pretty please.

M

Graphic Design 101: And Another Thing...

Hi,

Hey Jobs! Is this really the best update for the iTunes logo you guys could come up with?

This is not going to sit well in the coffee shops.

M

Electrohydronomicalengineering 101: Why Is This Cafe Playing Counting Crows? I Hate Counting Crows.

Hi,

You can officially welcome me back from yet another undeserved vacation. Thanks. I really needed some time to rest. And let me tell you, the Himalayas, which of course actually says "adobe of snow" in Sanskirt but for some reason languages don't translate proper nouns or something, are really wonderful this time of year. But let me also tell you that not only is it totally illegal but it is also perfectly terrifying to go hang-gliding off of K2. So, please don't tell anyone I did that cuz I totally didn't have a permit or even a Sanskirt speaking guide. Luckily for me I've been told once or twice that I have a resemblance to Daniel Craig and/or Clive Owen and/or a cross between the two. Since they are both such freaking studs, I prefer to think I'm more a cross between the two even though I haven't gotten that kind of compliment lately on account of the fact that I need a haircut a lot worse than Misty Boyce/Casey Shea/Nick Africano's drummer did yesterday. Who knew there was someone within my sphere who spends more time admiring himself in the mirror than I do? I guess I do, now. Anyway, since I apparently look like a couple of guys who have been know to get out of lots of sticky situations and not get arrested in the process, I was able to hang-glide off of K2 and in that process I was fairly awed by the arial view of the Brahmaputra River. You just have to try it sometime. Maybe you'll even be so inspired that you'll take to one of the many and varied new economy forms of self-publishing available to people who couldn't get published if their Mom's cat Buttons' life depended on it and tell everyone how inspired the trip made you and the expound on a bunch of other stuff that may or may not be true. Thank god for portable communication and potable water.

Anyway, before we get back to me writing about me and how I feel about things everyday, I would be remiss not to tell to tell you that I've updated my gig listing. I did that yesterday when I was paralyzed with fear and insecurity about easing myself back into the world of productivity.

(Editor's Note: The following may or may not be influenced by the fact that I cannot pronounce Plouffe.)

In today's installment of "Why Does The White House Have So Much Time On Their Hands That They Are Able To Personally Address Five Emails A Day To Me?" ...

Clearly the good people at the White House must have better things to do than personally address emails right? I mean, I know I'm a pretty important guy to you and other people that like me, but let's get one thing straight: I didn't vote for The Big O. because I was suffering from a diminished spam supply anymore than because I was hoping to sit around the dinner table last night talking to other people that voted for Barry and like me, are wondering just when in the hell he's gonna start saying things like: "Listen, there are some bad people in the world. All they wanna do is make money and take vacations to the Himalayas and hire prostitutes that aren't even that hot. They don't care about you, even though a lot of these people are people that you voted to represent your best interests in something called "Congress" where you pay them something around $200k per year, give them government health care, which is totally awesome by the way, so they can basically sit around all year saying things like "Only people that look and act like me can have access to things that other people's kids fight wars over." Oh and by the way, all of our energy and pollution problems are due to overpopulation and the afore-mentioned greed and there ain't a damn thing that recycling or cork-board flooring or the Chevy Volt is gonna change about that. Sorry. You're just gonna have to start telling your horn-dog kids to start wear condoms. Or we can just not do anything. Whatever man. I'm freakin' rich as all get out and so are my kids so it's fine with me. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go personally address address an email to Matt Basile. Oh and P.S. To the preacher dude that thinks it's a good idea to start burning Qurans ... You sir, are an asshole. All right, now don't let anyone say Bloomy is the only guy tellin' it like it is around here."

Anyway, like I was saying, I just got another email from this guy David Plouffe wherein he is reminding me that Labor Day just passed ad that there are only 56 days until the democrats officially squander their majority rule in Congress because Ben Nelson is a Satan worshiper (Ed. Note: Citation Unavailable at Press Time) and saying things like: "I've been out of a job for the last 19 months and I'm having a real hard time keeping myself positive and could you please lend me $2 for a bus ticket back home to see my kid before she goes back to boarding school." Or something. You can try to decode the communist plot for yourself.

By the way, I'm pretty sure I found a venue daring enough to host The Old Fashioned Ladiezzzzzzzzzzz...

Huh? Whaaaa? Yeah. Me too. Although it's kind of a bummer we'll have to change the coolest website this guy ever made. Yeah. Totally.

Before I forget, this guy wants to say Happy Birthday to Chrissie Hynde!

And speaking of the cycle of life, while the following video was not the cause of Keith Moom's death on this day in 1978, it may provide a clue.

Mwah!

M

P.S. Dude, wasn't the google homepage cool today?

Variety 101: Banned In The NYC

Hi,

Did you hear the one about the country that may or may not have been founded on a certain set of principles that may or may not include religious and cultural freedom except as it related to the two or so million people that for a few thousand years had been living on the land that makes up said country and/or relates to Muslims? I forget the punch line, but I'm pretty sure it's a good one.

Speaking of punch lines, today is the day after my variety show got banned from the only venue that I ever wanted to do the show in. In case you hadn't heard about it, the show was called The Old Fashioned Ladies Club. It was a music centric variety show, featuring sketch comedy and a smattering of vaudeville. Since we just did the show on Wednesday night, I'm pretty sure I still remember everything that I remember happening. Which may or may not be what ended up on film. But since I was educated in the greatest public school system in the history of revisionist history, I know that no one really cares if you get the story right. You just need a pretty good punch line.

Anyway, if you don't mind shutting up for about five seconds, I'll give you my version of Wednesday night in a little segment I like to call: "The Rise And Fall Of The Old Fashioned Ladies Club Featuring The Recollections Of Matt Basile" ...

Let's start with the superlatives shall we? Yes. We shall. Because this is my forum and I will do whatever I want and no one can ever not tell me to my face that they don't like what I have to say.

Anyway. Let's get back to what I think...

For August 18th, 2010's The Old Fashioned Ladies Club:

The award for Best Female Vocal Of A Theme Song goes to: Misty Boyce

The award for Best Comedy Sketch Involving A Violin Bow and A Shout Out To Palm Bay, FL goes to: Casey Spindler

The award for Best Looking Guitar Solo goes to: Mark Marshall

The award for Best ...

(Editor's Note: This edition of "Experiment's In Self Aggrandizement By Matt Basile" was interrupted yesterday so that I could play a gig with Mother Feather at Mercury Lounge. I am now going to try to get back into the proverbial "zone" here and finish my story about being banned from Rockwood Music Hall by listening to the new CeeLo track on repeat.)

... Interpretative Dance Involving Scarves goes to: Abby Ahmad

The award for Best Sponsor Activation goes to: Casey Shea

The award for Best Drummer Over 6' 7" Tall goes to: Chris Benelli

The award for Best Paper Mache Ball By An Engaged Stage Manager goes to: Angela Cheng

The award for Best Bass Performance Despite Jet-Lag goes to: Tony Maceli

The award for Best Special Effects goes to: Andy Fitzpatrick

The award for Best Impersonation Of The Olsen Twins While Taking Pictures Of Me In My Underwear goes to: Ann Courtney and Lizzie Carena

The award for Best Sword Swallower goes to: Heather Holliday

The award for Best Comedy Skit Involving Multiple Layers Of Socio-Political Commentary That No One Really Got But Still Garnered A Great Laugh goes to: Luke Wesley

The award for Best Critique Of The OFLC goes to: Pierre

And finally, the award for Best Execution Of The Principles Of Method Acting goes to: Michael Vitacco

Oh! And speaking of things that don't really matter in the grand scheme of things, in case you hadn't heard, the US has officially withdrawn all combat troops from "Greatest War In The History Of Driving Service Men And Women To Suicide".

In related news, did I mention that I started a variety show at Rockwood Music Hall and we got banned after the opening night? Pretty cool huh? Well, in case you haven't been there, you should know that Rockwood Music Hall is really nice. So nice in fact that, in the warm glow of it's well appointed antique lighting, plush red velvet walls, a truly marvelous wrought iron balcony with accompanying staircase and augmented by a particularly inventive make-shift spotlight held on high by the world's first "Human Applause Sign", a small town guy like me can suddenly be transformed so as to look so good that he gets mistakenly identified as a cross between Warren Beatty and Mick Jagger by a lovely patron who may or may not have literally crawled onto the stage in order to sink her pearly whites into the soft flesh of my buttocks.

Anyway, the show is called The Old Fashioned Ladies Club. And aside from a few rookie mistakes, the fact that I remember a lot of people laughing through pretty much the whole thing makes me think the show went pretty well. So, with that in mind, we're gonna look for a new venue. Hopefully you'll be interested in coming to see us there too.

(Editor's Note: Have you heard this song...?

Mwah!

M

P.S. This guy is living proof that if you just shut up and write some good and then get up on stage in front of 200 strangers and sing your ass off for 40 minutes, you can sell every last copy of your new CD at a merchandise table that didn't even have a representative from your record label staffing.

P.P.S. The Power.

P.P.P.S. I'm playing with Nick Africano tomorrow night.

P.P.P.P.S. I'm playing Muddy Waters tunes with Mark Marshall on Monday.

P.P.P.P.P.S. Oh, and I'm singing one too.

P.P.P.P.P.P.S. If you could see me now, I'm pooping my pants.

P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S. Not really. That's a figure of speech meant to demonstrate my reverence for Muddy Waters and how I am nervous to sing one of his songs.

P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S. I did however just finish a pretty big cup of coffee so in a few minutes I will probably actually be pooping.

P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S. As you may have heard, I was a little distracted on August 18th... Please let the record show that I am proud to share the anniversary of the start and end of The OFLC with your hot mom's birthday!

P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S. Thanks to these guys for the bass amp last night.

Variety 101: 36 Hours, 3 minutes and Counting

Hi,

If you come to The Old Fashioned Ladies Club tomorrow night you'll understand why I've just been ignoring you and that I did not in fact change my name in order to evade all of the easily accessible incriminating evidence against me as has been suggested by some.

If you don't come to The Old Fashioned Ladies Club tomorrow night, I'll know that you really are a big fat poopy-faced monster of a bad person.

And you'll also be missing a wallop of a good time show featuring the likes of ...

Miss Misty Boyce who can also be seen, later tonight at Pianos with a certain bass player who somehow just keeps better and better looking, one long wiry grey hair at a time. That happens at 8pm. Followed by Luke Wesley, who you may also be missing if you don't come to The OFLC tomorrow night.

Mr. Casey Shea who can also be seen on Thursday Night with a certain bass player who somehow just keeps better and better looking, one long wiry grey hair at a time. That show happens at Highline Ballroom at 8pm. Or something.

Mother Feather's own Ann Courtney and Lizzie Carena who can also be seen later this week with a certain bass player who somehow just keeps better and better looking, one long wiry grey hair at a time, on Friday August 20th at Mercury Lounge. That's at 9pm. Or something.

You'll also be missing people like Andy Fitzpatrick. He doesn't have any other gigs that I know of but if he did, you'd get to hear some of the best songs written. Period.

And you'll be missing the second half of The NickCasey Band. Who you may have already missed on Sunday night but you can see on the third Sunday of next month and the third Sunday of all the other months left in 2010 at The Living Room.

And you'll be missing celebrity-one-man-five-minute-theatre.

And you'll be missing a special guest that I guarantee can do things you never even considered doing. Period.

But it's cool. Stay home if you want to. No one really cares. I mean, I sure don't. You probably don't have anything to wear on account of your bad taste in fashion.

Mwah!

M

P.S. I wish I could say you'd be missing this ...

P.P.S. But you won't.

P.P.P.S. Cuz I just showed it to you.

P.P.P.P.S. you can thank me tomorrow night ...

P.P.P.P.P.S. At The Old Fashioned Ladies Club.

P.P.P.P.P.P.S. Debuts at Midnight, Wednesday August 18th on Rockwood Music Hall's Stage 2.

Home Economics 101: Welcome Home Mr. Basile

Greetings from my new apartment, where happiness = having a kitchen table.