Game of Pricks

Greatest song ever sung by a hard charging drunkard ex-elementary school teacher, or just one of the greatest songs ever? You be the judge.

US Open Fight (A Deconstruction)

And this is why I have no desire to visit New York anytime soon...

This video encapsulates almost every goddamn stereotype about New York that has ever been bandied about. You have the fat Italian woman screaming at the guido because he was being "rude" (when is screaming at a complete stranger not rude?). You have the random public "fucks" in that disgusting accent. You have a Greek chorus of other disgustingly accented Noo Yawkers screaming random shit instead of actually helping resolve the conflict. And finally, you have a fat man in a Mets hat throwing in his two cents long after the whole thing should have been finished.

No wonder most of the world hates us...at least the French would have made a public sporting altercation look sexy.

Ladies of the 80s: Belinda Carlisle

Today I was on a serious 80s kick in the Focus and I went to one of my standbys whilst rocking the fuck out. That standby is former Go-Go Belinda Carlisle.

I've had a crush on Belinda Carlisle since I was like five or six, and even though she was super 80s hot (look at that sleeved tube top!) I would like to think its because of the tunes. A Belinda Carlisle song FEELS like falling into a crush. For some reason, whenever I hear "Mad About You" it reminds me of going around on one of those octopus things at a carnival with some cute chick. But its never modern times, its always 1986 and I have a jean jacket and she has Bon Jovi bangs...

The big hit was "Heaven is a Place on Earth" of course, and if you've ever heard it you don't need to be told of its greatness. All of her songs are like that. Some sort of amazing girly concotion of rock guitar, cutesy vocals about being weak or heaven or sand circles, and then the chorus repeated in the fade. There isn't sistas doing stuff like this anymore. Well, maybe Kelly Clarkson (who was also derided for being chubby but whom I actually found sexier with some chubb) and her songs are more about not hooking up with drunk dudes and breathing for the first time.

So I salute you Belinda. The real life Miss Carlisle drank during her pregnancy and made Elton John look like a recreational coke user, but in song, you were the perfect crush for a little fat kid from Minneapolis.

I Hate Mike Napoli's F*****g Beard

With the Twins taking the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim-Orange County Burbank to the woodshed this evening, I figured it would be the perfect time to comment on the one thing on the OTHER L.A. team that bothers me.

I hate Mike Napoli's fucking beard.

Now, I really don't know all that much about Mike Napoli, other than he's a) of Italian descent b) he's been on the Angels for at least two years and c) his mom has excellent tits (Google that shit, now!). What I do know is that he has, by a wide margin, the shittiest beard in MLB.

I first laid eyes on Napoli's facial follicles in the opening series of 2008. Me and my roomies at the time were transfixed by the Angels catchers beard. It wasn't particularly that he had a beard that offended me, it was the way it was trimmed. That shit rides higher on Napoli's face than Steve Urkel's pants. The offensive beard leaves neck pudge visible, which is a no no. The beard is also not very full, nor has it ever been. It's sort of like a George Michael crossed with Don Johnson thing.

Now every Twins-Angels game since then has had me staring at Napoli, wondering if he will let the face salad grow full and free of its cheek constraints onto his neck (as nature no doubt intended). Every time, I end up disappointed because the high rising 80s shadow beard remains. So until Napoli wises up and grows a Jayson Werth face thicket or a Kevin Youkilis Greek God Goatee, I will forever be hollerin' "I hate Mike Napoli's Fucking Beard!!!!!"

Softball Recap 8/20/10 (Kings of the Yard)?

Fall ball got off to an epic start this week. Tuesday night consisited of a revamped Revolution Softball Club splitting out our doubleheader in Plymouth. We played the city champs close, losing by three in the nightcap. Seeing the old legend "White Power" Bill was a treat, as his bat was still hotter than Katy Perry in a pillowfight.

The Friendly Fridley on Thursday however was much more epic. The 1-2-3 Kids mistakenly signed up for upper D. Personally, I thought the squad would get crushed...especially when I saw our brahsome opponents. I have never seen so many trailer trash chinstrap beards, cargo/Jean shorts, flatbills and brah faces in my life. One fucker even cocked his flatbill sideways.

It didn't get much better during the game. The Tupac Fan Club jumped out to a 7-2 lead, and I got doubled off second. Cocked flatbill felt the need to comment on my girth in a way only someone who thinks he's united for Compton can. This got the squad amped, and the 1-2-3 Kids rolled for the win. Then we rolled into the second game where I went yard, Tom Klick went yard, and Jordan Eickholt went yard. Somehow Jeff Hill drew like four walks, and we ten ruined the Dirtballs or the fucking Balls Deep or whatever the fuck brahskis call their squads.

Most satisfying site was seeing their bleach blonde Aveda trailer queen ladies leave the game early because their men couldn't hold a candle to our rag tag squad. I'm sure they were hitting up some Two Stooges or some A-Town spots.

Broken Social Scene Is My New Favorite Band!!!!!!!!!!

OMG!!! And I havent even fucking heard them!

So I was at Starbucks on Saturday night, buzzed on Surly and preggo with sushi (a freaking SPAM/Pinapple/Cream Cheese loveroll) and I came across one of those free iTunes download cards of a group called Broken Social Scene. I immeadetly fell in love. These peeps were everything I wanted in a indie fucktard band looks wise. The above is a similar pic.

I mean, come on! From left, you have the following;
Fat Bearded Hipster Fuck - I bet this guy is the drummer
Hipster Fuck Who Thinks He's John Doe from X - Probable lead singer/guitarist
Chuck Klosterman Hipster Fuck - This guy loves both basketball and Warrant
OMFG Feist! - The most hipster chick on Earth 2005
Bald Ironic Hipster Fuck - Nice Alferd E. Neuman shirt
Lounge Lizzard Hipster Fuck - The Serge Gainsbourg fan in the group
Strokes Looking Maritime Jacket Hipster Fuck - This guy probably plays synths
Other Hipster Chick in the Band Who I Would Love to Fuck - Pretty self explanatory
Rick Rubin Circa 1986 Stoner Hipster Fuck - This guy somehow has to DJ. Or he is their dealer. Or he may spike the punch with Spanish Fly and put a pie in Tabatha Soren's face
Mike D Hipster Fuck - Actual name: Clarence. And of course he's hugging on Rick

From what I remember hearing about this band like five years ago, they may be powerpop (me likey) and they are for fucking sure from Ca-Nada (me also likey, if it can get me some Molson Dry). What I KNOW about the Scene is that I would murder for their record collections but would never want to talk to them, you know, because my records would be shit to their sensabilities.

I also wonder what the Scene dreams in their loft apartments at night. Do they lament the probable lack of Pabst Blue Ribbon in Ottawa? Are their adventures to Willamsburg to get boat shoes and "I Love Intercourse, PA" t-shirts? What do they eat for breakfast? Have they ever played Rick Astley anthems un-ironically? So many unanswered questions that my new favorite band poses to my feeble non hipster brain.

Comfort Music?

The last few weeks I haven't been quite myself. A breakup can do that to a man.

Besides having conflicting sad/angry emotions, sometimes crippling self doubt, and a general loss of appetite, I have been listening to a lot of music. I'm not sure what most people turn to musically when something traumatic happens. I would assume 70s singer/songwriters or maybe Slayer? Not this guy though...I play the most inane pop music of the 80s.

I have about 15 gigs of 80s Top 100 Billboard charts on my iPod, and they have been on shuffle for the last couple of weeks at home, at work, and in the car. It's gotten so bad at work that one of my co-workers actually said (after I explained exactly WHY I was listening to "Kyrie" for the 15th time that week) "now you are making us all suffer". Yet I still turn to my comfort music.

Comfort music is not like comfort food (although they both theoretically share Meat Loaf). At least I don't THINK they are the same. One man's "How Will I Know" could be another man's Cure or maybe Otis Redding. Hell, I don't even know if anyone else does this. My personal belief is that my favorites (whether it be "The Blue Album", "Ten", "The Low End Theory" or "Exile on Main St.") should not be tainted by bad memories of the down times. I want to hear "Rocks Off" in a month or two and shake my sexy white ass without thinking about all the bad shit that I am currently going through.

Fortunately, 80s shit pop is untouchable like Elliot Ness. One cannot put special meaning on Jermaine Stewart or the song "Look Away" by Chicago. All those songs remind me of are being five years old and running through sprinklers and jumping on beds and trips to 7-Eleven for Slurpees and Tony Gwynn's jheri curl on a 1989 Donruss baseball card. The disposableness of those joints makes them have no emotional heft, and I can only tie them to positive memories at a time in my life where I really couldn't feel hurt. They are my aural Salisbury Steak.

Most Disappointing Fast Food Items

When one thinks of fast food, one thinks quick, cheap, good, but a little slutty. Or at least that is what I think. I always feel like I looked at some really messed up internet lovin' after I eat a Big Mac. Sure I feel satisfied and great, but I sort of hate myself afterwards. So recently, I cut down on the fast food to once a week. Subway, Jimmy Johns, Quiznos, and Chipotle are excluded because they are like a comitted relationship, not the sleazy trysts that await at Maca Dons.

This lack of fast food in my life has got me thinking about limited time offerings that I have had over the years. Some, like the late beloved McCheddar Melt, will live in imfamy in my brain. Others, like the Cuban Sandwich I had at Subway today, are on my no-fly list. Here are a few others that broke my cholesterol choked heart:

The Arch Deluxe - McDonalds dropped this bomb on us in the mid-90s. The Arch Deluxe was supposed to make baby boomers eat McDonalds at times when their whiny kids didn't want it. The sandwich was a failure, probably due to over advertising (I specifically remember getting free coupons in Sports Illustrated for a month for free sandwiches). My whole family also got food poisoning from these bad boys, probably due to the shitty djon sauce they used on the crappy potato bread roll.

Any Grilled Stuft Burrito - Who the hell came up with this idea? The press (so magical with the quesadilla) burns the shit out of the burrito, so every flavor consists of char and bean. Negative bonus points for the Ceasar Wrap Burrito T-Bell tried a few years ago. Nothing says awesome like grilled fucking lettuice.

The Cuban Sandwich - Subway dropped the ball with this one. The Cuban is a bland Islamic/Jewish nightmare sammich in general(nothing but pork on pork, much like the Rosanne-Tom Arnold union). Subway's bland way with things make eating this taste like munching mustard coated sawdust. Even sexy ass red onions couldn't save this 12" Titanic.

Ribs at Burger King - I never tried these things, but Burger King gets me sick as all hell when I eat there for some reason. So I assume the ribs there had to blow. I mean, come on! McDonalds doesn't do foie fucking gras. Stick to your guns, Whopper Land!

The Bert Burger - When I found out about the Bert Burger I was super amped. Wendy's used to have a melt burger back in my college days with Thousand Island that killed. And what was that on Bert's eponymous burger? Yep, 1-0-0-0 Island! Too bad they used just a little dollop, and the huge ass bun soaked it all up. It just goes to show, don't be shy with that sauce!

Honorable mention goes to the Double Down at KFC, even though I believe they were being hipster ironic and daring fatasses to eat the thing. As a large American with a weakness for MSG and irony, I tried it. And it blew, but I knew that deep down in my being going into it. It was sort of like watching a Dane Cook movie. No substance, but high ironic comedy.

Thoughts, feelings, suggestions?

SUGAR - If I Can't Change Your Mind

I'm in a real sad sack mood lately, and I think I've probably listened to this song about 20 times in the last three days. Man, Bob Mould must have had some SHIT happen to him with dudes breaking his heart. A friend of mine claims that most of these songs are secretly written about Husker Du mate Grant Hart, and I don't know whether or not to believe her on that one...but it makes sense.

Any way you slice it, one of the most carthartic break up songs of all time. Thanks Mister Mould for making my world a little brighter with your pain and suffering.

SIDE NOTE: Did you know Bob Mould was one of the writers for WCW during the Monday Night Wars era in the late 1990s? I've always wondered what angles he planned...and why he was working as a wrestling writer. What other indie legends could have done this? Billy Corgan tried to buy ECW back in the day too I guess...all I gotta say is what the hell?

Vegas Baby

After having spent a weekend in Las Vegas, I discovered that the old adage about a city having its own personality holds very true. For example, Milwaukee is a messy, lazy city built on the commerce of one export, beer. And the city loves it. It is comfortable in its own skin.

Vegas, on the other hand, is fake. Fake skyline, fake tan, fake tits, fake everything. And I was incredibly enamored with it. At the newsstand in my hotel they sold the one local Vegas daily, but also the New York Post, The London Daily Mail and a Japanese daily. No one cares about the local news, the city just serves as a sandbox for outsiders. This is the charm (and the curse) of Vegas.

My crew decided to venture off the strip to go to In-N-Out Burger. Let's just say the experience was eye opening. A pimp tried to grift my phone from me. Persians did shots of some sort of lemon liqueur while screaming "fuck" every other word. And a local in a Justin Bieber t-shirt and stunner shades claimed he was a regular, and then preceded to botch his order at the counter.

The key to the above paragraph is the location: In-N-Out is off the strip. The strip is clean, a joy to behold, safe. The off strip locations from what I saw were dirty, filled with low rent hotels and gas stations, and void of any people. When I stayed in Vegas a few years ago, I stayed at the south end of the strip past Mandalay Bay and it was very similar. Dead area, dicey.

On the strip though, the fakeness can be amazing. Watching a fountain show in front of the Bellagio (in a city that should have no water) is fun. Drinking Coca-Cola products from around the world is fun. Losing 100 bucks while playing slots is also strangely fun. But all these experiences are absolutely fake. You can't do any of these things in real life, in any other city in America(save for the gambling thing, and its not as fun to drop a Hondo with the old blue hairs at Treasure Island or Mystic Lake).

So Vegas is fake. But I wouldn't have my strip experience any other way. So I'm going to stay in the sandbox.

It's Been A Long Time Since I Left You...

...and I'm back kids!

So I have bought a guap of new CDs lately, and let me tell you, this has been an amazing summer for music. Tuesday I picked up the new Kele (the lead singer of Bloc Party) and The Roots. The Kele joint is sort of like Depeche Mode crossed with the gayness of Erasure, and the song "Tenderoni" is probably not about the same girl Bobby B was singing about if you get my drift. Still, I knew what I was getting into when I bought it...I wanted me some sexually ambiguous techno pop.

The Roots disc is murky and solid like their last three. Listenable all the way through. I really dig the track "Radio Daze" (it sounds like the hook was crooned by Gil-Scott Heron) and the Jim James guest starring "Dear God 2.0". The Roots boys should just do a whole album of reworkings of others songs ("Dear God" and "The Seed" 2.0s both being fire).

Next for this guy...Vegas baby! I will be so money this weekend I won't even know it. Here's to eating Del Taco/Weinerschnitzel at 5AM in some sort of weird food court!

Land of Body Slams?

One of my secret pleasures is pro wrestling. Well, I should add that not WWE as it is now but the old school shit, from about 1980 to maybe 2000, when WCW and the greatest of all time ECW went out of business. Yes, these were the golden ages, where titans like Hogan, Savage, Flair and Austin battled for my mind and heart.

Needless to say, I read a guap (thanks MIMS) about the goings on in the squared circle around this time. One thing I read was that Abe Lincoln, the Man by all accounts, was the champion of the world. The only other person who can defend this statement is Mister Jeff Hill, and I guess he saw it on a documentary or something. And the only time this is discussed is when both of us are shit faced, in between debating who's record collection is better.

But, now I have proof. I guess Honest Abe murked some fool outside precursor to a Target and then they joined forces to become the first example of the Mega Powers. All I can say is...rad. Fucking rad.

Abe vs Armstong for the Intercontinental Title:
http://rogerjnorton.com/Lincoln48

Yacht Rock 12

This may be the best episode of anything ever...or at least since that Cheers where Kevin McHale was the guest star.

Confessions Pt. 3

-Five Guys Burgers and Fries is the most amazing take out hamburger ever. I think I have perfected my toppings finally (Bacon Double Cheese, fried onions, A-1 Sauce, pickle and green pepper). I don't know how In-N-Out is going to compare to this in June.

-I bought Miles Davis "Kind of Blue" the other day in the cutout bin for two bucks because everyone always hypes it as mind blowing. I listened to it, and I can see why everyone is amazed by it...but it only affected me in a way that classical music does. I can appreciate the amazing musicianship, but its not my cup of tea. Maybe I will revisit it sometime down the road.

-The other night I actually enjoyed wine. A lot. Although I bought a bottle of Riesling and I was defininetly not beasting off it like Kanye. It really sucked and me and my lovely dinner companion ended up dumping out the bottle.

-Three days of softball may be a bit too much for one man to do in a week. I'm still going to do it though, because I love the game like Favre loves football. I'm an old gunslinger I guess.

Half Price Books Rant

Tonight I stopped off at my local Half Price Books after having a few for a work happy hour thing. HPB sounded like a good idea due to the fact that I was a little buzzed (How did I know this? I bumped "Arthur's Theme" by Christopher Cross and sang along at full blast). In retrospect, I should have just went home.

HPB is one of my fave raves when it comes to finding cheap records and CDs. But 50% of the patrons are, to put it bluntly, the scum of the fucking Earth. Tonight a 400 lb sweathog in a neon yellow shirt was screaming about how he found the "Great Milenko" by the Insane Clown Posse and asking his little subservient bitch friend if Moby was "some kind of DJ". The dudes purchases consisted of the aforementioned ICP disc, 10,000 Maniacs unplugged, and a Staind CD. He then literally ran out of the store giggling with his partner in bondage.

Last week at the same HPB, a fat dude in a Canadian Tuxedo waxed poetic to his autistic looking son about Don Knotts and how he "remembered him", how zombie movies were so bad they were "dead" (pun intended) and how Dog Day Afternoon and Reservoir Dogs were the same movie because "they both had that Harvey dude in them".

Also to be noted, none of these people are even giving the books a glance. It's always the VHS tapes and the DVDs that are getting the most play.

Will the sweet mix of white trash, hipsters and the mentally challenged stop me from digging in the crates? Definitely not. But it just feels nice to bitch about it every once in a while. I see HPB more than I see my extended family, so I think at this point I have earned the right to rant about Auntie Half Price.

Record Store Day Journal 2010

Saturday was the 3rd annual Record Store day. I always get really hyped up for record store day and then puss out on buying any of the big ticket shit because it's too spendy. This year was no different. But let me start with my two previous record store day experiences.

2008 - I went to a record store in Memphis called Katz (I believe) on Record Store Day. No one was there. The only "special releases" were a Black Keys 45 and an REM 45. Seeing as how I owned the records those songs came from, I said fuck it. I did get a goodie bag with the uber-shitty remake of "Wanna Be Startin Something" in it. I also think I bought "Dandy In The Underworld" by T.Rex. Oh wait, that was at the FYE on the Vanderbilt campus. Nevermind. But that record does kick some major ass...

2009 - Record Store Day 2009 was a little more hyped. The only record I really wanted was the Flaming Lips 45 of "Borderline" b/w a Black Keys cover. I guess it was sold out everywhere...except for the dinky ass Down in the Valley by my house. That was the only purchase I made that day.

2010 - This year, there was about four records I was amped for. I knew I wasn't going to get the Hold Steady LP (especially in MPLS) but I figured I could cop the Queens of the Stone Age, Passion Pit and Phoenix discs for cheap. Fortunately for me, I got Twins tickets and couldn't go to the stores early. Because the day was a dissapointment.

Cheapo in Uptown had the QOTSA and Phoenix records, but the QOTSA record was going for 16 bone for four tracks (one of which I owned). So I picked up the Phoenix record for 6 bucks...along with the Pavement "Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain" deluxe edition, the new(ish) Mos Def, and "The Handler" by Har Mar Superstar for under 16 bucks TOTAL.

Figuring my luck may be better at the hole in the wall Down In The Valley I scored at the year previous, I high tailed it over there. That is where I experienced the living, breathing personification of Comic Book Guy

ME: "You have any of the Record Store Day stuff?
RECORD STORE GUY: "Yeah, we have two Pantera records and Owl City."
ME: "Um, do you have the Queens of the Stone Age EP"
RECORD STORE GUY: "NO! That sold within 20 minutes"
ME: "Yeah, I saw it at Cheapo for 16. Kinda expensive"
RECORD STORE GUY: "That's the retail. 16"
ME: "Still expesive for four tracks"
RECORD STORE GUY: "Whatever, its worth, like 100 bucks! There's only 500 of them!"
ME: (Immeadetly leaves the store)

I don't know how the clerk immediately became Beckett Record Store Monthly, or who raised him, but I was about done after that shit. I did hit up Cheapo Fridley, where they had an abundance of the damn Owl City record. The only purchase there was "The Best of The Move" on CD.

Five days later, I still regret not buying that Queens of the Stone Age record...

Inside Target Field

Whoa, Nellie! Yesterday was one of those days that will stick with me forever, long after I am bald, fatter, and probably divorced from my Mail Order Russian bride. Saturday, April 17th was monumental in the life of one Jacob Donald Eickholt for one reason - I finally got to see the Minnesota Twins play outdoors at their own stadium.

I have been to probably 75-100 games in the Dome in my lifetime, starting with my first game against the Red Sox in the Summer of 1988. None of the games in the Dome (with the exception of Game 163 last year) can compare with the outdoor baseball I saw yesterday.

Everything was perfect, the green grass, the smell of sausages grilling, the fauxback unis the Twins were wearing. Everything. Walking around the concourses, I thought "I have been missing out on this for 22 years, and now it's here". Not gonna lie, I got a little overwhelmed by it all...yep, thankfully I was wearing sunglasses.

But enough about my emotional state. It's time for a review of the ammenities. The food choices at the Dome sucked. The only thing other than a Dome Dog that kicked any sort of ass was the giant Chicago Dog that you had to be drunk as hell to order.

Target Field, on the other hand, has overwhelmingly awesome food at just about every consession stand. The group I was with did the old "buy a ton of shit and pass it around routine" so I got to try a bunch of stuff. My faves were the Cheese Curds (very similar to the ones at Miller Park) and the Vincent Burger (a Jucy Lucy stuffed with short ribs and smoked Gouda). The Vincent was 12 bucks, but may have been the most delicious "gimmick" burger I have ever had. The only drawback food wise was that the Schweigert Hot Dogs couldn't hold a candle to the Dome Dog.

The restrooms had no troughs, which was nice for a non-public peeer like myself. The only acceptable trough at the Target would have been a double sided joint like they have at Wrigley. Since they didn't go with that, the urinals will have to do.

Maybe the best change was the actual seats. At the Dome, a large American like myself would usually have to sit uber-spread eagle to avoid kneeing the person in front of him. Target Field gives much more leg and ass room, so there was no need to worry on my part about hitting the sexy MILF in front of me with an errant knee.

Out of the six other MLB stadiums I have visited (including the Dome), Target Field is the nicest. That's not just homerism either. The Target feels like it has always been there, nestled in its little corner of downtown, beckoning all with its charms.

Secret 90s Song of The Day

Continuing with the trend of songs that sound like they came out in 1988 but in all actuality were much, much later...I give you today's song.



This one will go into the category of "songs I totally forgot existed". Let the record state that I am a superfan of Go West's biggesst hit "King of Wishful Thinking". I mean, I would play that song every day if I could, and I got insanely jealous at my brother once for finding the 12" single at a thrift store.

Now if you are a fan of "King of Wishful Thinking" then you will be a fan of this song. Cause it's pretty much the same goddamn tune. The only difference is that instead of a danceable ode to never getting over some chick (possibly Julia Roberts?) "Faithful" is a dancable ode to being "faithful to a lover's prayer." What the fuck is a lover's prayer anyways? The cats from Go West never really elaborate on this, just that they will be faithful. Seems like sort of a cop out to me...

Go West hit #14 with this slice of cheez, which I think is a perfect chart placing. "King of Wishful Thinking" hit #8, so "Faithful" is almost the chart half life of the song it carbon copied. Fitting. If this song were a restaurant, it would be Arby's. Mediocre but strangely satisfying.

Secret 80s Song of the Day

If there is one thing that screams "Look at me motherfucker, I came out in 1987!" it's programmed electronic drums. Our pick for the day has them in spades.



Upon first glance, Breakfast Club looks like a cut rate Madness. "Where are the horns", you may ask? The answer is horns didn't sell anymore, it was all about programmed electronic drums good sir. It also appears that the band saw that Pee Wee's Playhouse was giant in 1987, so they filmed their video in a knockoff of his famous abode. Not too mention that the band had the same name as one of the biggest movies of the decade. This was one club of opportunists.

According to my gay lover Wikipedia, the Club also featured not only Randy "American Idol Dawg" Jackson as a member at one point but...wait for it...Madonna on drums. Yes, the Material Girl played fucking drums for this act at one point. No wonder they went with the electronic programmed skins for this juicy cut. It's not like Keith Moon was back there.

Anyways, this song reminds me of ads for dance clubs in hotel lobbies that had teen nights. It probably also got mad play at Skateland, seeing as how it is about dancing and being on track. If this song's cool could be personified by an 80s celeb, it would be Judd Nelson...stone cold, baby.

Record Show Journal 4/3/10

The Bi-Monthly Uptown VFW Record Show went down yesterday morning. As usual, there were a lot of people I wouldn't usually associate with other than the fact that they dig the licorice pizza as much as I do. Sadly, there were more hipsters than old smelly creeps this time. I have never seen so many tan cardigans outside of a repeat of Mister Rogers Neighborhood.

One tan cardigan douche hipster was arguing about Cocateau Twins records with some clown who had all his 12" records priced at like 20 bucks a pop (I mean, really, who would pay that much for a single of "Come On Eileen"?). King fucking hipster douche claimed he owned all the Cocateau Twins 12"ers, at which point I felt like interjecting "who the fuck cares? That band kinda blew anyways". But I just shut my fat mouth and continued looking for glam rock records.

ANYWAYS...I got some good finds there, at Cheapo, and at HPB today. The cream of the crop:

"Do You Wanna Get Funky With Me" by Peter Brown - This album cover contains the awesomest naked boob in album cover history. The damn thing is so perky...oh, and its got some disco jams that rule also.

"Emotional Rescue" by Englands Newest Hitmakers - Mainly bought it for Dance, but Dance Pt. II is way fucking better. More of the disco shit between the besties "Some Girls" and "Tattoo You".

"We Went to Different High Schools Together" by The Jaggerz - Donnie Irises first group, way more psychedelic than The Rapper would lead you to believe.

"Street Legal" by Robert Zimmerman - Minnesota native does pop album about Ponies and broads crying. Then he turns to Jesus. I didn't think the album was Messiah worthy.

"Knife" by Aztec Camera - 80s Brit Pop at its best.

Also picked up a late period Sly record I haven't listened to yet, a Roy Wood outtakes album, and some Hall and Oates (who never lie). Good time had by all who attended I believe.