Thanks to my Secret Santa, I can confirm that Stones Throw 101 kicks all kinds of ass. Such a perfect fusion of soul, funk, jazz, and hip-hop. I find myself bobbing my head far more than I should at my workplace.
Plus, it has the best lyric of all time: “I might have been a parrot / A gay Brazilian parrot / If someone hadn’t wakened me and / Pulled me out of bed.”
Just made my final appearance on TXCN. (TXCN is laying off most of its staff as of Jan. 1, and my little guest appearances on the network will sadly come to a close.)
Also just made my first-ever appearance on KHOU, the CBS affiliate in Houston. You Houstonians can spot me (looking a little worn out) on the Sunday-and Monday-night late news.
All this is about my Sunday and Monday stories, which you’ll probably want to check out.
I wonder if 43folders.com and 43things.com ever, you know, hang out.
Isn’t it about time for a new Built to Spill album? It’s been almost four years.
I’m just sayin’. It’s amazing how much more productive a strong cup of coffee and Ancient Melodies of the Future in your headphones can make you. Makes you feel like the sunniest marauding Visigoth in all of Europe.
If I may brag for a moment: Here’s the new story on the recent troubles of my employer in this month’s Texas Monthly. After spending a few hundred words slagging on the quality of the newspaper, writer S.C. Gwynne offers this statement that we occasionally do good work:
“Their recent stories on the Wilmer-Hutchins school district and on Child Protective Services are examples of superb urban journalism. ‘The Morning News is still the best paper in the state and region,’ says Robert Rivard, the editor of the San Antonio Express-News.”
It’s amazing how much two phone calls can improve your day.
You may want to pick up copies of Sunday’s and Monday’s papers — there’ll be some fun stuff in there by yours truly.
Fantasy football update: I am proud to say my squad, the Bum Phillippi, has finished the regular season alone in first place, with a record of 11-3.
Week 14 was a dramatic one, with everything coming down to Tony Gonzalez’s performance on Monday night football. I needed Tony to have no more than 82 yards receiving and no touchdowns. His stat line: 76 yards receiving, no touchdowns. Hence, a hairline victory for the B.P. over the Diogenes Club, 97.40 to 96.70. Apparently Tony Gonzalez wasn’t the honest man Diogenes was looking for.
Now come the four-team playoffs. The semifinals pit me against Ignignokt and Err, the league’s only Aqua Teen Hunger Force-inspired squad. So you know who you have to root against, I&E relies on Brett Favre at QB, Eric Moulds, Chris Chambers, and Javon Walker at wideout, Chester Taylor, Fred Taylor and Warrick Dunn at RB, and lonely kicker David Akers. May they all be temporarily and painlessly crippled by plantar fasciitis.
As for me, I’m still starting McNabb at QB, Tomlinson, Pittman, and Rudi Johnson at RB, Vinatieri kicking, and reliable Isaac Bruce at WR. The rest of my starters are in flux, thanks to subpar production at wide receiver. Roy Williams has teased me with potential long enough. To the bench! Keenan McCardell can’t get up for a rivalry game against his former team? To the bench!
Taking their places: Laveranues Coles, hopefully recovered from a season-long slump and now in rhythm with Patrick Ramsey, and Lee Evans, the rookie phenom from Wisconsin who’s been putting up big numbers the last three weeks.
The 10 most accurately rated artists in rock history by Chuckles Klosterman. Props for the shout-out to crabwalk.com faves Sloan, and I’ve previously expressed similar thoughts about the Lemonheads. I would, however, move Tortoise from the “underrated because barely anyone seems to know who they are” category to the “overrated because certain rock critics like them too much” category.
Also, the New Radicals were actually underrated. And the lead singer was named Gregg Alexander, and his biggest fan thinks he’s totally a cool guy.
My W-H story in today’s paper, nothing exciting.
For the record, this may be the last Wilmer-Hutchins board meeting I ever attend!
I cannot tell you how much shame I am dealing with right now.
Go to Google and do an image search for bad dresser. The number one result is a childhood photo of me.
The only saving grace is that the bad-dresser tag is much more fairly applied to the two other people in the photo (which is circa 1983): My grandmother, rockin’ the lapels at stage left, and my mother, resplendent in polyester and some sort of shiny chemise. (Honestly, I look pretty hot. The pocket square is a nice touch, I’d say.)