Over at the Willamette Week, I examine “Generation Kill” and its emotional similarities to “The Wire.” Click here for the column.
P.S. I’m only in the third second season of “The Wire,” so if anyone posts spoilers about later seasons they will be hunted down and thoroughly beaten. And I will whistle “Farmer in the Dell” all the while.
P.P.S. But it’s great to see Ziggy again.
“Is She Really Going Out With Him?”, Joe Jackson — I bought it just so I can wind up dating a beautiful woman, have her leave me, and then set this as the ringtone for whenever she wants to call and talk about the problems she’s having with her new boyfriend. “He’ll Have to Go,” Jim Reeves — This is a song that’s been in my head since I was a kid, thanks to my dad. It’s a sad drunk calling his girl from the bar and asking her to pretend they’re still in love, and to send her new man away for just a minute so they can talk. It’s great. “Confessions, Pt. II,” Usher — Hey, this time it’s the guy that cheated! This song will always take me back to senior year of college, mainly/especially because a buddy threw it on a mix tape he made me for my journey to SoCal. “Way Down in the Hole,” The Blind Boys of Alabama — I bought the soundtrack to “The Wire” a couple days later at Amoeba, but I wanted this track just so I could set it as The Sis’ ringtone, since she’s one of the many who encouraged me to watch the show, and she’s the one who bought me the first season. (And I’m not done with the show yet, so no spoilers.) “Suds in the Bucket,” Sara Evans — This is totally dumb, really slick pop-country, and I bought it because my roommate and I got hooked on the song when we realized we could watch the music video on demand via Time Warner, which we did for like three straight days. Plus she’s cute. When the Summers Lasted Long, Jon Nolan — I liked the guy when I heard him on my Old 97′s Pandora channel, and the album was worth the $8 or whatever it shook out to be.
me: the parttime erotica paginator just defended george lucas’ computer-enhanced versions of the original Star Wars trilogy, saying they were “gorgeous” and full of things he couldn’t do in 1977
i hate her so hard Sis: oh wow
punch her now! me: OK
i did it
she got upset
but i said you made me Sis: ok
man, no person should ever defend those edits, or the prequels me: exactly
Jonathan Grubbs is making T-shirts. You should all order one.
I mean, I could give you the whole runaround about how struggling artists need support, and how he’s got a kid on the way, and he’s got that shrapnel from Nam — all true — but really, they’re just fun shirts. So order one.
• He made his money in dirigibles.
• He wants to win by stirring up still-potent Southern anger over losing the Civil War.
• He has his suits hand-made by “the last trustworthy Indian.”
• He won his wife in a poker game with Doc Holliday.
• He plans to publish his autobiography in serialized installments in the Saturday Evening Post.
• He will make purchases with gold bars, but would prefer to use bags of salt or livestock.
• He keeps trying to help Barack Obama escape to freedom on the Underground Railroad.
Thanks to Safari’s damning habit of saving information entered into forms, specifically Google, I came across something pretty interesting at work recently: the complete Google searches of a former coworker, whose workstation I occasionally use because of recent expansions in my job description. The below list is an excerpt of those search records, namely the women he searched for at one time or another. If you cross-reference the different letters of the alphabet, you can see how the same searched item popped up several times with altered spellings. It’s like a treasure map, only for softcore skin sites.
Anyway, three quick points and the lesson is yours:
(1) If you’re gonna Google chicks, wait to do it at home.
(2) If you must Google chicks at work, at least clear the history and search forms in your browser.
(3) If you Google chicks at work and don’t do step (2), you’re pretty much asking for trouble, especially if a guy like me uses your computer next. What can I say, I’m kind of a dick every now and then. (However, I have no plans to out him, here or anywhere, now or ever. So don’t bother asking who it was. What can I say, I’m also lenient.)
The list is after the jump.