Wednesday, February 24, 2010
This is making the rounds:
Quite probably the worst song ever.
From the Tubesteak gallery:
at the start I thought this was all the same guy -- using his Bar mitzvah gift iMac/iMovie bluescreen plugins to make him play all instruments. This is absolutely genius.
Once it's at the end, click back to the 20 second mark to see how much the tempo increased throughout.
Then again, this is only one of the many critiques that one could make to this fine work.
The lead singer looks like Ben Stiller's nephew. (the ears and walking gate when we strolls in concern.) Genius
The moving train shot and the kid who accidents into the frame at the right. Genius.
The lead guitarist alone in the elevator, getting his best "John Mayer Feelin' It" Body Language on. Genius.
CheeseHenge at 2:14. Double genius.
The end of the bridge with the vocal hold before the re-entry - is that a dotted dotted dotted dotted 8th note rest? or a single tacit bar of 27/8?. Genius. I thought only Chick Corea could bend time like that!
and so they don't get sued by the Big Labels - the blurred logo on the bass player's upper right pec t-shirt.
This is the best.
It’s hard to watch. And the kick line??? WTF???
Here's the endless guitar solo:
A great collection of Hi-res photos of classic theaters.
This sequence of photos of Hillary Duff getting engaged is too good not to share.
Well disengage and get back to work,
A great glimpse into Winter Olympics shenanigans.
In February 2006, I was sitting next to Bode Miller and five scantily clad women in a nightclub in the Italian Alps. The winter Olympics were starting the next day, and Bode clearly didn't care. He was far more focused on the perfectly manicured girls on either side of him, and a large tray of vodka and Redbull. The girls - among them a Playboy Playmate, Miss Budweiser, and Miss International Hooters - were equally unconcerned with the Olympics. The competitive event they were participating in - trying to sleep with Bode - was far more ruthless and interesting.
Earlier I had walked past their table wearing a Def Leppard concert T-shirt. "Is that a Def Leppard T-Shirt?!?" one of the girls shouted to me. I nodded. "I fucking LOVE Def Leppard!" she screamed. Then she stood up, gave me a high five, and started twisting her hips and screaming the lyrics to "Pour Some Sugar on Me." One of the other girls, clearly upset by the amount of attention the first girl began to generate, stood up and marched across the dance floor. She flirted her way into the DJ booth, convinced the DJ to stop the music, and got on the mic: "This next song," she announced to a dance floor full of Italians wondering why the music had suddenly stopped, "is going out to Bode Fucking Miller! You fucking rock, you Sexy Motherfucker!"
An hour later both of the girls were alone and pouting. Bode had just left with another. He would return to the club several hours later - bare-chested but wearing a U.S. Ski Team jacket - and leave with yet another girl. The 2006 Winter Olympics had officially begun.
This professor lays the smackdown on a kid who shows up late for class.
Nice verbal parrying.
I am a leaf with a funny t-shirt.