Thank God.

It's such a dark period between October and March, when we lose that hour and its black outside at 5 and snowing sadness and there's no baseball. Now, i'm beginning to see the light.



Spring training is officially underway. Go Royals.

Only Halfway Home

Besides eating life-sized chocolate penguins, few things make me happier than the idea of airing something like this short film about Levon Helm on MTV in primetime, preferably in between episodes of "True Life: I'm a 16 year old pregnant basehead with a million dollars" and "like, watch me barf or whatevs." Levon Helm must have had millions of dollars at multiple points in his career, which may or may not have all been spent on treatment for his throat cancer, which almost cost him his voice entirely- but is Levon tooting pounds of flour up his nose with Robbie Robertson and sleeping in an inflatable pool of mardi gras beads and big, american breasts? Maybe. But i see him up on the tractor and saying things like "where'd you bring that buick in from, buddy" and i'm in it 100%.



This is the man that brought you The Last Waltz, the undisputed greatest single rock movie/concert in the universe. And he's harvesting grain. He's having a can of coke. He wants to.

As a side note, i don't know when or if i'm coming back to this blog, but do check in once a week or month for project updates from the flight deck, if you're so inclined. I'll do my best to see that there's at least a howdy-doo for you until i've settled on the next big thing. Until then, hang tight. Keep the faith. Gracias.

Sir Couchalot

Well, school's back in session these days, and where am i? Well, couchside watching the history channel, of course. Indeed, the graduate has arrived at last. And just how long can his silence and abstinence from all mediums of written word outside of the tv guide go on? Well, according to "Byron," the greatest sharpshooting archer in the world, who i just saw shoot an aspirin out of the air with a bow and frickin' arrow, i think my break from writing could last between 2 and 2,435 weeks. That sounds about right. Fear not though, faithful weston-ites and queen elizabeths. While my online interests may be waning, a full-scale music project is in the works, and i'm considering a mandatory-writing project, perhaps a series of album reviews, to debut as soon as i think about it longer than thirty seconds just now.



Until then, why don't you do what i've been doing, and watch videos of Bobby McFerrin on youtube until your brain turns into a geoduck and the chinese food delivery guy starts asking if you're going to be okay. Why do you have to be good at math to run a baseball team, anyway? What is that guy talking about?

I'll be back. Someday soon. Probably.

I'll Have What He's Having

Tall order, sir.

Tony Stamolis

Tony Stamolis is a California-born photographer turned New Yorker, earning some pics in the New York Times, Rolling Stone, Maxim, and a million other, artsier magazines that i'll never hear of again. His recent book, Frezno, highlights some of the seedier images of his hometown, now the sixth-largest city in the Golden State. From nude portraits to bushes full of upside-down shopping carts, he's hot on the trail of contemporary suburban Americana.

Check out his portfolio here. Or read about his new(ish)book here for more.

Llamacycle, Anyone?

After making the grave mistake of checking my book through with the luggage over the holidays and having nothing to look at but feral children and the collection of gum wrappers and barf bags in the pocket in front of me, it was all the better to recently discover Kasper Hauser's Skymaul :Happy Crap You Can Buy From A Plane.


This is your one stop source for all those things you had no idea you needed so desperately that you might drop dead at any moment. Here you'll find the ipod shredder, adultery detector, and who could live without inventions like these?


There's really something for the whole family here. Don't forget baby this x-mas!

Why I Love Whiskey

While this site appears to be on a dangerous precipice of plummeting into full time abstract late night commercial analysis, i find myself inspired yet again. And, as OJ Simpson well knows, when inspiration knocks, sometimes you gotta break that whole door down and wave your glock all up in someone's nose to get something done. Now where was I? Oh yes. Commercials like this new one from Johnnie Walker remind me why i make whiskey my drink of choice, and also teach us so much about American history! Did you know any of these monumentally important historic events were remotely related to the simple consumption of Johnnie Walker? Take a looksee.



It's really little known fact that the Wright brothers used all their empty bottles of Johnnie Walker red to counterbalance the ailerons on the first flight in Kittyhawk. If they hadn't drawn up the plans to the airplane while hamboned on whiskey, we wouldn't be sitting in airports across the country today as American Airlines cancels our flights. Thanks, Johnnie Walker. I've obviously been wasting my time drinking Jack Daniels, because all that makes me want to do is set fire to my golden deer and put my head through a TV when America's Funniest Home Videos is on to see if Bob Saget's really inside.

In reality, i think we can all come to the agreement that if Johnnie Walker whiskey were responsible for the invention of an airplane, it would be the one featured forty seconds into this video. That one has always been my favorite, although the mutant seagull bicycle car early on is a contender. That's far too imaginative, probably a product of the Smirnoff team.



And how could we all forget the civil rights movement in the 1960's? While many historians contend that was the work of fearless leadership and human sacrifice, it was actually Johnnie Walker whiskey that opened the doors at the University of Alabama for desegregation in 1963. Who knew! Can your vodka tonic say that? The only thing vodka was there in history was Stalin's death march, and, more recently, the Girls Gone Wild dvd series "The Wildest Bar in America." You think you can hold a candle to the significance of Whiskey in American history? Look at that astronaut just floating around fixing things with his wrench. You think that astrophysicist is going to celebrate tightening that lugnut with a glass of merlot? Wrong.

As clearly shown in this commercial, New York city was built by guys pushing huge steel beams around in the 1930's, obviously plowed on Johnnie Walker. Really, its a miracle that city is even still around, considering. I urge each and every one of you to pick up a bottle of this liquid magic, which is remarkably easy to get, i might add. It's a wonder we haven't gotten wise to the pattern in visionary American accomplishments until this year of 2008, when the economy started looking like a urinal cake. Thank god this thing aired in the nick of time. Now get out there!