Bradford Pearson

The Twist, Happy Birthday, and other songs you can never escape

So somehow at work Monday we started talking about the most popular songs of all-time. I think the conversation went something like this:

"Oh hey Michael Jackson owned The Beatles' catalog right?"

"Is every song copyrighted?"

"Even 'Happy Birthday'?"

"No, I think Ruby Tuesdays created their own song so they don't have to pay every time they sing Happy Birthday."

"Happy Birthday has to be the most popular song in the world."

"Look, I found a list with the most popular songs of all time on it."

Okay, so mostly it was me talking and my co-workers nodding along because they know by now that eventually I'll shut up. ANYWAY, so I found this list, the "Billboard Hot 100 Chart 50th Anniversary," and, true to its name, it lists the top 100 songs of the past 50 years, per Billboard.

The rankings are a bit off (How does a song that spent the most time at number one - "One Sweet Day" by Mariah Carey and Boyz II Men- not beat Carey's "We Belong Together"? Blasphemy!), but at least gave me decent fodder for this here blog.

Number one I couldn't argue with: Chubby Checker's "The Twist." Classic song, everyone knows the words, and you can sing it with your grandparents at weddings. After that, though, things take a turn.

By number nine we've reached Toni Braxton's "Unbreak My Heart," and #11 is, inexplicably, "Yeah!" by Usher, Lil Jon and Ludacris.

The Bee Gees make more appearances than any other artist, but it's really the work of a Mr. Stevie B that took my breath away. You can view the whole list (plus videos!) here, but watch Stevie's classic "Because I Love You (The Postman Song)" now.

It honestly ranks up there with David Hasselhoff's acting chops in the "unintentional comedy" standings.



What do you think? What are the most recognizable songs of all time?

Sarah Studler

I won't be writing for a few days because I'm heading home for an awful reason. One of the sweetest people in the world, my friend Sarah Studler, has died.

I'll probably start writing again on Monday or Tuesday, but I just wanted to give ya'll a heads-up.

Cherish your friends while you have them.

Feel free to post any comments if you knew Sarah

Brandon Jennings' sweet fade...

...is the only reason I'm watching the NBA Draft tonight.
Seriously it's uncanny.

Okay I'm also watching it to see if my boy Ahmad Nivins gets drafted.

UPDATE: Apparently Brandon Jennings is not nearly as cool as I thought he was, and has since cut his hi-top into some sort of lame faux-hawk.

Thanks to Dan for pointing this out.

Virgin Mobile FREE Fest 2009

So the rumor around DC lately has been that a few bands (Blink 182, Weezer) had been saving their DC summer tour date for Virgin Mobile Fest, which has come and kicked the DC/Baltimore metro area's ass the past three summers.

Then yesterday came word that there would be a major announcement today.

So I woke up with eager anticipation —Oh My God Oh My God (grab paper bag to breathe into)— and went to the Virgin site.

I then grabbed a second paper bag to wrap around the popped paper bag I was previously using, cuz it's FREE THIS YEARS SUCKAS!

Weezer (if they just ripped through the Blue Album and Pinkerton I would probably die at Virgin Fest)

Blink 182 (okay)

Public Enemy (I met Chuck D once and he was a very angry man)

The Hold Steady (!)

Mates of State (This should be interesting at a festival)

Franz Ferdinand (never liked them as much as I probably should)

The National (Hope they melt my face)

Girl Talk (If I die during the Weezer set, expect me to resurrect during this set)

Wale (Wah-lay. Wah-lay. Wah-lay.)

Holy F*ck (Holy f*ck!)

And a bunch of other people I probably won't see

The point is it's free! Free I tell ya! For more information, go here. But not before you check out this fantastic Wale track that KHutt turned me on to the other day.

Bolivian TV station makes Air France boo-boo

So when the Air France flight crashed into the Atlantic June 1, my first thought was, admittedly, "Holy shit this is just like LOST."

I tossed the idea around with some of my colleagues who watch the show, and they agreed that they had the same thought, twisted as it may be.

Well, it appears that a Bolivian television station has taken that opinion to the extreme. Earlier this week, the station, PAT, claimed to have obtained exclusive footage of the crash from inside the plane's cabin.

The problem? The footage was a scene from "LOST." Take a look.



Now I always give a certain amount of leeway to reporters and newscasters, because I know I've made mistakes in my stories as well. But to not recognize the actress (Evangeline Lilly) in the scene, or recognize that the crash happened at night and the "footage" was during the day time? Ridiculous.

Also, WHERE DID YOU THINK THEY FOUND THE CAMERA? The bottom of the ocean?

Props to Bassam for first bringing this to my attention.

Triumph hits Bonnaroo

There is nothing I can say that would make this any funnier.

Oh, except to watch it until the very end. That is a must. Plus, it's only like five minutes, so deal with it.

My Case For: Road trips

Okay this is lame, but it’s the only way I could incorporate the “My Case For” feature with a wrap up of our trip….

For the uninitiated, my roommate Sean, my friend Mike, and I spent the last nine days driving around the eastern United States in a rented Nissan Murano, crashing on people’s couches, eating fried foods for every meal, and sleeping minimally.

If you have never done this, close your laptop, get in your car, pick up some beer, and hit the road.

With the risk of sounding lame, every person should do this once. From the mountains of southwestern Virginia to the plains of Arkansas, literally every single thing we saw was awesome.

And now, a few awards:

Best meal

Sweet potato pancake breakfast, Arcade restaurant (Memphis): Regular pancakes, but somehow made with sweet potatoes.

Odd note about Arcade, though. There were two rooms in the diner. One was full of white customers, exclusively, while the other only had black customers. In Memphis.

Take from this what you will, though I’m sure it was just an odd, “My racist radar is already super-high because Martin Luther King, Jr., was shot down the street” coincidence.

But still, 23 white customers in one room and 14 black customers in the other room.

Runners-up: pulled pork (Miss Myra’s Pit BBQ, Birmingham, Alabama), deep dish pizza (Gino’s East, Chicago, Illinois)

Most frequently played song on the radio during our nine days

Tie: The Black Eyed Peas “Boom Boom Pow” and Matt Nathanson “Come On Get Higher”

The Eagles, Fleetwood Mac, and Queen seemed to be the most popular bands on the classic rock stations, while we literally only heard one Bruce Springsteen song. Why is the heartland hatin’ on The Boss?

Most bingo halls in a three mile stretch

The Jasper-Carbon Hill, Alabama metropolitan area. On one road there were 10 bingo halls in three miles. And most of them were full. At 2 p.m. on a Friday afternoon.

Best way to help this country

Send a check to the city of Cleveland, Ohio.

Cleveland City Hall
601 Lakeside Ave.
Cleveland, Ohio 44114


Surprisingly fantastic song for a road trip

“The Climb” Miley Cyrus

I mean, I’m not saying I liked the song. At all.

It’s not like I spent the whole last day of our trip searching Top 40 stations until I found it, then belting it out at the top of my lungs.

And it’s not like Sean and Mike joined in. Nope.

The Road to Glory, day eight: Atlanta

(My roommate Sean and I are currently on a road trip around the eastern part of the United States. Along the way we'll pick up friends, sleep on peoples couches and eat and drink heavily.)

The three things I associate with Atlanta: Outkast, the Olympics, and people drinking sweet tea on porches (this last one may or may not be an accurate portrayal of the fine people of Atlanta).

While I didn’t meet Andre 3000 or Big Boi, I still think our stop in Atlanta was a success. All three of us were dragging, and by the end of the day we had made a drastic itinerary change, but, still, success.

On the way to Atlanta we stopped in Birmingham to meet one of Mike’s college roommates, who Sean and I have also become friends with. We annihilated some barbecue at Miss Myra’s Pit BBQ (a must stop if for some reason you are ever in Birmingham).

I also took advantage of an arcane Mississippi law that allows passengers to drink while someone else is driving. I remembered this when we walked into a gas station in Tupelo, Mississippi and saw Keystone Light tallboys for $1.09.

Surprisingly, drinking in a car isn’t as much fun when you’re legally allowed to. Or it’s 11 a.m.

Anyway, back to Atlanta. Cool city, didn’t really spend much time there.

We were all beat down from the eating, drinking, and driving, so we made an executive decision: go home. We only had one stop left (Raleigh), so we bucked it for an 11 hour truck back to Washington.

More on that later.

Tomorrow: home

The Road to Glory, day seven: Memphis

(My roommate Sean and I are currently on a road trip around the eastern part of the United States. Along the way we'll pick up friends, sleep on peoples couches and eat and drink heavily.)

Before we got to Memphis, everyone was all “You gotta go to Graceland or Sun Studios! Like Oh. My. God. You have to.”

And we arrived in Memphis with the goal of at least doing one of the two. Then we saw all the bars on Beale Street and decided it would be a much better idea to just sit there and drink away the afternoon.

I would however, like to defend myself. Someone in the comments of another post asked if we did anything cultural while we were in Chicago. Well, yeah, we stuffed our faces with deep dish pizza and drank beers and took shots of Jameson. That seems like a pretty cultural tour of Chicago, no?

But with all seriousness, with maybe a night or two in each city, we don’t have enough time to do everything.

With the exception of maybe Cleveland, we’d all like to revisit each city we’ve been to. Maybe then we’ll have time for art museums and record studios and gigantic balls of ear wax or whatever, but for now it’s about seeing what each city has to offer.

And, yes, by that I mean drinking.

Ok, back to Memphis.

So we’re sitting at the BB King Club looking out onto Beale Street (awesome, btw) and this girl accidentally knocks a drink out of her friend’s hand on the street, pouring the beer all over the girl. The wet girl proceeds to smack the other girl’s cup, then grabs another girl’s beer and pours it down her dress.

This all happens over the course of about three minutes, so the suspense was building the whole time.

Some random black guy came over and offered the wet girl a cigarette, though, so all seemed forgotten.

After BB King’s we made our way to Charlie Vergos’ Rendezvous, home of the best ribs in Memphis.

Oh and did I mention that while Sean’s camera is technically broken, we can still take pictures? Here are some.

Ribs:


Before ribs (Our mothers will love this one. Susie, Cathy and Judy, enjoy.):


Beale Street, which on an average night looks exactly like Pittsburgh the night they won the Stanley Cup. Odd:


Awesome time in Memphis. Need to come back ASAP.

Oh I almost forgot! We met Judge Joe Brown of the aptly-named television series “Judge Joe Brown.” And you know what? He was kind of rude. And much smaller in person.

I was also surprised that he didn’t wear his judge’s robe everywhere he went. I bet Judge Judy does.

Tomorrow: Atlanta

The Road to Glory, day six: St. Louis

(My roommate Sean and I are currently on a road trip around the eastern part of the United States. Along the way we'll pick up friends, sleep on peoples couches and eat and drink heavily.)

First impression of St. Louis? Damn it’s hot.

We went from a cold, rainy 60 degrees in Chicago to a sticky, humid 89 in St. Louis. We went to the Cardinals-Tigers game last night and each of us had sweat literally pouring down our faces.

But before I get to the game, I need to mention something about the cab drivers in St. Louis: they are insane.

The first one we had was homeless, and he handed us his resume when we left the cab, asking us to “pass it around.” He lived in his cab, and claimed to have hitchhiked to the 1976 Montreal Summer Olympics and knocked out former heavyweight champion Leon Spinks.

The second literally gave us a top to bottom history of the entire city of St. Louis, from it’s fur-trading roots to Anheuser Busch to his belief that every major decision in the United States is made by people in St. Louis.

“That’s why they always have presidential debates here,” he said. “St. Louis is the most powerful city in America.”

He also said “thur” instead of “there,” which reminded Sean of Nelly.

The third cabbie regaled us with tales of his deceased father, a former lead miner in western Missouri. He said his dad used to steal huge chunks of lead and bring them home for his kids. When I asked him what they did with them, he responded, “Well, I guess we just kept them.”

Sounds like a fun childhood.

But back to the game. Busch Stadium was fantastic, and I recommend it to anyone. After the game we headed up to this bar Blueberry Hill to meet some of Mike’s friends who happened to be in St. Louis at the same time we were.

In the bar were hundreds (thousands?) of pictures of the owner with famous people who apparently have swung by Blueberry Hill or the surrounding neighborhood.

It was probably the only place in the world where Barack Obama and Paul McCartney were next to Rob Zombie and Chingy. Fantastic.

We’re off to Tennessee, where the heat index is supposed to hit 107 degrees.

Tomorrow: Memphis

The Road to Glory, day five: Chicago

(My roommate Sean and I are currently on a road trip around the eastern part of the United States. Along the way we'll pick up friends, sleep on peoples couches and eat and drink heavily.)

Chicago was great. Until it rained.

The second day of our trip in the Windy City was crushed by torrential downpours, driving winds, and a fruitless journey to find Mike Ditka’s house.

But, we did get deep dish pizza and a great night at this bar Duffy’s, both at the recommendation of our gracious host Mike Smith.

I shall return Chicago, and this time YOU BETTER NOT RAIN OUT THE CUBS CAME WE WERE SUPPOSED TO GO TO, AND IN TURN RUIN MY BOYHOOD DREAM OF WATCHING THE CUBS PLAY THE WHITE SOX AT WRIGLEY FIELD YOU BASTARD.

Okay, now that that’s out of my system, we actually did have a great time. Duffy’s had their version of American Idol, so we were serenaded by 40 of Chicago’s worst singers (it was the preliminary rounds). We followed that up with a swim in Mike’s heated pool, which lasted about three minutes since despite the heatedness (word?) it was still 55 degrees out.

Oh and we picked up our other friend Mike, who will join us for the rest of this journey. Welcome Michael.

Hopefully St. Louis will bring better weather.

Tomorrow: St. Louis

The Road to Glory, day four: Chicago

(My roommate Sean and I are currently on a road trip around the eastern part of the United States. Along the way we'll pick up friends, sleep on peoples couches and eat and drink heavily.)

Wow. I thought Cleveland was depressing, but the drive from Cleveland to Chicago made Cleveland look like Beverly Hills.

After four hours of absolute nothingness, we passed through Gary, Indiana, the boyhood home of Michael Jackson. His departure seems to have caused Gary to spiral into nothingness, as I saw not one human being in the entire city as we drove through.

You know that song in the musical The Music Man where the lead character sings “Gary Indiana Gary Indiana Gary Indiana”? Okay, there’s not really a point to that comment, but it’s the only other reference I know about Gary.

Bottomline: don’t drive through Gary unless you want a fantastic ego boost about where you live.

But, ahhhh, Chicago. The City of Broad Shoulders! The Windy City! The city where Perfect Strangers was based!

As soon as Sean and I made our way into Chicago, Sean and I both said we could live here. The people were really welcoming, the bars were inviting, and the streets were full of young people.

Oh, wait, I forgot one thing. As we drove into the city, we had no idea where we were staying. And considering that the last two nights we slept in a closet and a poor excuse for a crackhouse, respectively, we didn’t expect much.

But then a friend (thanks Mike Smith!) came to the rescue and was a most gracious of hosts.

We took what seemed like a 10 hour walk around the city, and then crashed. It was the first time we went to bed before 3 a.m., and it felt fantastic.

Today we take on the rest of Chicago: deep dish, Wrigley Field, and trying to convince Michael Jordan’s doorman that we’re His Airness’ long-lost children.

Tomorrow: Chicago

The Road to Glory, day three: Cleveland

(My roommate Sean and I are currently on a road trip around the eastern part of the United States. Along the way we'll pick up friends, sleep on peoples couches and eat and drink heavily.)

First, the bad stuff.

In addition to losing his wallet in Pittsburgh, Sean managed to break his camera in Cleveland. The entire display screen is now a field of white, with surprisingly beautiful patterns of purple, red, and blue shooting out of the bottom right corner.

So Sean’s now down a wallet and a camera. But hey at least it’s not me, right?

(I write this knowing full well that Sean probably won’t read it until after the trip. He will then beat me mercilessly.)

Ok now the good stuff. Cleveland is awesome. Great people, great food, rampant desolation and sorrow.

Seriously, this place is great, but I think it’s the saddest place I’ve ever been. Well, I guess that doesn’t include the Holocaust Museum. Or a funeral. But in terms of major metropolitan areas, it takes the sad cake.

There are just tons of buildings with literally no tenants. Five minutes from the downtown, there are square blocks with no businesses.

Drifters. Grifters. Sifters. (Yes actual sand companies.)

And I'm sure tons of you have seen this video before, but this YouTube video actually described Cleveland very well:



But the food. Oh the food. Sean and I stayed with our friend George, from college, and he recommended we head to Melt Bar and Grilled.

Sean and I plowed through pierogies, bratwurst, deep fried sandwiches and a decent portion of our collective dignities. Each meal we’ve had on the trip so far has included some deep-fried component, and they’ve certainly had a cost.

I was on the phone with K yesterday and I told her that I was fat. Like actually fat. I have a gut, a phenomenon unknown to me before Sunday.

But, before we head to Chicago we’re stopping at one of Cleveland’s open air markets and grabbing some fruit and vegetables. Aside from cole slaw and pickles, it will be the first time either of us have eaten fruits or vegetables since Friday morning.

Victory!

Tom0rrow: Chicago

The Road to Glory, day two: Pittsburgh

(My roommate Sean and I are currently on a road trip around the eastern part of the United States. Along the way we'll pick up friends, sleep on peoples couches and eat and drink heavily.)

Pittsburgh Round Two was less eventful, in a good way. Because, Jesus, I don’t think we could’ve handled another night last night.

Today we spent some time exploring the neighborhoods.

Right after I typed that, I realized how LAME that sounded, so here’s another try:

We drank Natural Light, Sean had a pepperoni omelet (which sounds awful but was somehow an awesome balance between omelet and pizza), I nursed a hangover for the better part of the day (almost throwing up in the middle of a crowded street fair) and we went to a Pirates game.

There that sounded better.

If you haven’t been to PNC Park in Pittsburgh, you should. It’s everything the Washington Nationals wish they could’ve done.

Random observation: there are more people missing limbs in Pittsburgh than in any other city in the world.

We saw people missing a leg, an arm, both legs, both arms, whatever. One guy was like Eddie Murphy in Trading Places, except he actually had no legs. Oh and he was scalping tickets outside the Pirates game. Still gotta make a living I suppose.

Onward and upward.

Tomorrow: Cleveland

The Road to Glory, day one: Pittsburgh

(My roommate Sean and I are currently on a road trip around the eastern part of the United States. Along the way we'll pick up friends, sleep on peoples couches and eat and drink heavily.)

So my plan was to post a ton of zany pictures from last night in Pittsburgh.

My plan, however, was thwarted by the fact that each picture Sean or I took last night is literally poster-size, as the default "size" setting was seriously screwed on Sean's camera.

So now I will try my best to recount the craziest night of my life. Of. My. Life.

It started out reasonably enough, grabbing some sandwiches at Primanti Brothers, drinking a bit at our host Brian's house.

Then the Pittsburgh Penguins won the Stanley Cup, and what started out as a reasonable night descended into hell.

We were at some German beer garden thing watching the third period, and as soon as the Pens won we (and every other living soul in Pittsburgh evidently) took to the streets.

Since our photos are gigantic, here's a video someone took last night:


The following is a random collection of memories from the night, in no particular order due to the fact that I have no idea what order they were in:

-I think I sprained my ankle. Leaping over a bush. Planned on using said bush as a urinal.

-Sprinting down the street high-fiving the drivers of each car that drove by, and being unreasonably angry at people who did not high-five me.

-Drumming on the trunk of a police car. Then, reasonably I guess, being asked by an officer if I would like to spend a night in jail. I declined, but thanked him for the offer.

-Walking out of a bar and watching one of the guys I was with get dragged away by the cops for saying "fuck." Danny spent four hours in the county jail.

-Standing outside a restaurant and watching Brian try to convince the restaurant's chef to reopen so he could get something to eat. Brian offered him a million dollars for a meal. The guy must've been rich and not needed the money because he declined.

-Sean lost his wallet. This memory is actually pretty shitty because, as you know, this is the first day of our trip. I will be subsidizing his costs for the remainder of our journey, with interest.

The rest of the night is actually kind of a blur, due mostly I imagine to the beer.

We have one more night in Pittsburgh, but it will be difficult to top this one. I don't know if my body would allow me to top this one actually. Ridiculous.

Tomorrow: Pittsburgh

Friday Funhouse: It's Always Sunny at Saint Joseph's

So It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia has been filming in, uh, Philadelphia all week, and yesterday they stumbled onto the campus of my esteemed alma mater, Saint Joseph's.

Holla!



That is all for now. At 3 p.m. today I leave for what is being called "The Trip Where Brad Probably Almost Dies in Seven of the Largest Cities in America." At least that's what I hope I'll call it afterward.

Check back tomorrow (and the eight days after that) for updates on the trip.

It's EUROPE

So I was kicking around Facebook the other day and I stumbled into one of those "How did I just waste an hour looking at pictures of a barbecue that I didn't even attend?" funks, when I found a photo album from a friend of a friend of a friend entitled "Europa."

Not "Europe" or "My trip to Europe" or "Pictures from another continent," but "Europa."

And I don't know why, but it really bothered me.

"It's effing Europe," I belted out to my confused coworkers. "How pretentious do you have to be to use the term 'Europa'?"

Now I don't know this person, so maybe Europa is some funny inside joke, poking fun at some other friend or whatever, like the guy who came back from Italy saying "spa-GETT-y" instead of spaghetti or "Oh my god the arroz con polllllllo in MeHico was to die for."

And maybe I'm just on edge because of all this car and health insurance stuff piling up a week before I leave for 10 days. I almost sent this absolute stranger a message, but I restrained.

God I need a vacation.

13 Word Review: The Virgin Suicides

The Virgin Suicides (1999)
Directed by Sofia Coppola
Starring Kirsten Dunst, James Woods

Dunst's performance is "eh," but film shines. As much as suicide can "shine."

Up next in the Netflix queue: Sweeney Todd

Editorial note: As you may or may not have noticed (I'm banking heavily here on the fact that you read my blog every day, like you should), my recent posts have been very "13 Word Review" heavy. This is because I'm getting ready for my ass-kicking trip, which begins Friday. Oh and I was in a car accident, so all the requisite paperwork and whatnot has sapped some creative juices.

But have no fear! Starting Saturday, follow my seven city extravaganza every day right here. If you have any last-minute recommendations for Pittsburgh, Cleveland, Chicago, St. Louis, Memphis, Atlanta or Charlotte, send em along.

Zack Morris, or Mark Paul Gosselaar?

For the uninitiated, Jimmy Fallon is trying to get the cast of "Saved By The Bell" back together for a reunion on his show.

So Mark Paul Gosselaar showed up last night and did this:


Classic Zack Attack!

13 Word Review, Bonus Edition: The Curious Case of Benjamin Button

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button (2008)
Directed by David Fincher
Starring Brad Pitt and Cate Blanchett

Oscar nominated? Really? More like The Curious Case of Benjamin Boring. Too long.

STILL up next in the Netflix queue: The Virgin Suicides

My Case For: Roger Federer

For some reason, the American public- and tennis fans in general, I think- have grown to hate Roger Federer.

Despite not having an American worth a damn anymore (Andy Roddick and James Blake don't count, because, uh, they've been worthless in majors) American tennis fans have chosen not to root for the person who most closely physically resembles a white bread, down on the farm, middle class American: Federer.

Instead, some root for Rafael Nadal, and most just don't care about tennis anymore.

Now I usually hate Swiss people (I'm looking at you Henri Nestle, and your delicious chocolate), but I find this greatly disturbing, for a few reasons:

He has a normal looking girlfriend.


Now this is in no way a comment about my own girlfriend (who is a super fox), but instead a comment about the usual air-brained blondes who line the seats and luxury boxes at most sporting events. Again, my girlfriend is a super fox.

He gives hope to all men with dark, bushy eyebrows.


It's fair to say that my eyebrows are fit for a man with a much larger head than mine, maybe along the lines of an Andre the Giant or Jesse Ventura.

As a child I would lie awake at night and think, "If I only had smaller eyebrows, this tennis hobby I have could really turn into something." Then Federer comes and gives hope to men of bushy girth, asking nothing in return.

Uh, he has won 14 Grand Slam titles.

I'm pretty sure this speaks for itself.

Now the only thing I can think of that would dissuade people from rooting for Federer was this awful Gillette commercial he did with Thierry Henry and Tiger Woods:



Your thoughts?

13 Word Review: Make 'em Laugh: The Funny Business of Comedy, disc two

Make 'Em Laugh: The Funny Business of America (2008)
Hosted by Billy Crystal
Narrated by Amy Sedaris

It's easy to forget how great the Three Stooges were. Very, very funny.

Up next in the Netflix queue: The Virgin Suicides

Friday Funhouse: David Carradine

Since SOME LADY SMASHED INTO THE BACK OF MY CAR YESTERDAY AND NOW MY NECK AND BACK ARE KILLING ME AND THE ONLY GOOD THING GOING FOR ME ARE THESE MUSCLE RELAXERS AND VICODIN today's Friday Funhouse is going to be pretty lame.

Well, actually it's the video that's lame, not my entry (never!). It's some citizen journalism thing about David Carradine, who was found dead yesterday after masturbating with a shoestring around his neck.

I wonder if that would affect this woman's opinion of him:


Props to Brendan P for this video. You can find his fantastic work at the Newark Star-Ledger here.

13 Word Review: 12 Angry Men

12 Angry Men (1957)
Directed by Sidney Lumet
Starring Henry Fonda

Really a fantastic movie. Can't emphasize that enough. Henry Fonda is the man.

Next in the Netflix Queue: Make 'em Laugh: The Funny Business of Comedy, disc two

My POTUS

Is anyone else's first reaction when they see this:


This?

Not racist, just askin'.

The Robot Evangelist

Growing up in New York, I went to church every Sunday, like clockwork. And while I don't regularly attend church anymore, I think I learned some valuable lessons. Many of which I've gone on to break in various ways, but that's beside the point.

What the point is, though, is that there are effective ways to reach people with religion. The man in the video above, Jeff Steinberg, is not one of those ways. See Steinberg is a traveling evangelist, and his only job is to convert people to Christianity.

Yes, his last name IS Steinberg- apparently he was his first convert.

(At this point, you should watch the video, all the way through, and then return.)

Anddddd we're back!

Okay, so that was nuts right? For a minute, let's set aside the fact that the guy has a claw for an arm and dysfunctional legs.

What the hell is he talking about? Tiny giants! A backing track provided by some sort of Halloween/ World of Science collaboration! A sequined tuxedo!

There's a giant who lives inside of me, a giant that everyone can see!

Now that's just gibberish. I think seeing this guy as a child at any sort of Christian event would've thrown me directly into the arms of Judaism or Islam.

P.S.- If for some reason you ignored my VERY SPECIFIC instruction and didn't watch the entire video, skip ahead to 3:30 and watch the last 15 seconds. I promise you it's worth it.

John and George, back from the dead: Beatles Rock Band

I have never been that into video games, but this game looks pretty awesome.

And I'm still crossing my fingers for the release of Rock Band: Fine Young Cannibals.

Thoughts?

Freecycle Diaries: Volume One

For the uninitiated, Freecycle is an online, worldwide non-profit dedicated to giving away stuff you don't need any more, or finding stuff that others don't need but you want.

I'm a member of a local group, and my apartment is now littered with free items I've received (100 old LPs? You bet I'll take them! A bicycle rack that looks like some sort of Iraqi torture device? Yes, please!).

And for every worthwhile item there are just as many people trying to find the most ridiculous items under the sun. This new feature will examine those items.

Each item I post, minus the person's name, is exactly the same as the original e-mail I received:

WANTED: Pogo stick

My son just wore his pogo stick out! He would love another one to use daily. Thanks so much!

Maybe this is because I never owned a pogo stick as a child, but isn't this toy more of a once or twice a month item? "...he would love to use one daily." DAILY? I think instead of trolling Freecycle for pogo sticks you may be better served getting your son checked for ADD.

WANTED: ANYTHING GARFIELD OR ANYTHING FLAMINGO IN ROCKVILLE

Hello. I am search of anything from vintage to modern day Garfield. I am an avid collector of Garfield stuff AND Flamingo stuff. If anyone has anything of the such, It would be greatly appreciated. It would be well taken care of. So, remember anything GARFIELD or anything FLAMINGO. Thanks. And have a great day. Willing to pick up.

So, not only does this person have an insatiable appetite for Garfield, but she's combined that with a penchant for all things flamingo. I imagine her house to look like a cross between a Disney Store and Pee Wee's Playhouse.

I think my favorite part is "So, remember anything GARFIELD or anything FLAMINGO." As if you may have read the first five sentences, took a three-hour break, and came back to finish the rest of the paragraph.

My Case For: Driving instead of biking

Last fall, I bought a bike.

I imagined throwing on a backpack and riding my new vehicle to the library or supermarket or farmer’s market, filling up with all kinds of goodies, then heading home, happy that I performed some pesky errands while saving the earth from nasty car exhaust.

Last fall, I bought a bike.

And as of June 1 I’ve ridden that bike once, around the block, and was exhausted for two days.

I keep telling myself the reason my bike is in the closet is because it has a flat tire, but I know the real reason: I love driving.

Top 5 reasons driving is better than cycling:

5. On a bike you can’t bust into a random a cappela version of Taylor Swift’s “Fifteen” when it comes on the radio.

4. Much less sweating in a car. Note that I said less sweating, not no sweating. I drive a stick, which can be quite a workout for someone who hasn’t been to the gym in a few months.

3. You can’t sleep in your bike when you’ve had too much to drink.

2. You don’t have to wear spandex when you drive. Option? Yes. Necessity? Only if you’re a member of Cirque du Soleil.

1.
And yes, I understand that driving is awful for the environment, costs a shitton more than riding the bike you bought for 25 bucks off your friend’s girlfriend (Note: it’s NOT a girl’s bike. That needs to be abundantly clear.), and is probably a lot more dangerous than riding on bike trails.

But was this country built on bicycles? Hell no!

It was built by people driving big-ass cars that they couldn’t afford and driving from the suburbs to cities and packing their families in air-conditionless minivans as they trucked their four kids to Florida and torching their cars in abandoned lots because they couldn’t afford the payments and stealing hood ornaments off a Mercedes because “Hey, I drive an effing Datsun” and yeah driving cars pretty much rules.