A poem from the Duke

The Big Fig Newton

The Five Minute Rock Band Identity Creator

Design your own CD Cover with the following steps:

1. en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Special:Random
   The first article title on the page is the name of your band.
2. www.quotationspage.com/random.php3
   The last four words of the very last quote is the title of your album.
3. The third picture on this page
   No matter what it is, will be used in your album cover design.

Don't believe it works? Here are 3 albums I created 10 minutes ago using this method.







Rock On!

Further Proof that 'Nashville is Talking' is Dead

Yesterday afternoon Nashville is Talking published a post titled Ron Paul is a Seriously Flawed Candidate. Seventeen hours later, there are no comments. Having seen how Paul's supporters swarm to the defense of their candidate whenever and wherever a negative word is written about him, I think this is may be the final sign that NIT is D.O.A.

Trick? . . . or Treat!

When asked to write about what makes the best halloween candy, or "treats" as it were, that's easy. Of course the nice middle aged people whose kids are grown and have plenty of money left over after stuffing their IRAs have huge brimming baskets of quality chocolate items such as 3 musketeers, butterfingers, and almond joys (what kids eat almonds AND coconut?!). Those are the best houses. And when the plastic pumpkin gets too full or too heavy, the parent must lighten the load and polish off at least three reese's cups or maybe some starburst.

If you actually have kids there is the dilema of whether to accompany your kids or stay home and pass out candy. Both activities have benefits and drawbacks. Going out with the kiddies is fun, until your 3 year old becomes literally paralyzed with fear and you have to maneuver the stroller and hold a small child and hold the candy and approach the front door. Then folks start getting tired and cry and all that business, and you start to cuss your smarter half who is at home watching CSI, ALONE in SILENCE until the idling busted muffler and car door slam. Voices approach, was that a cuss word? Door bell rings ferociously. Open the door. There is an assortment of people mostly under the age of 16, but it's hard to tell, holding kroger bags open and staring at you. "Am I being robbed?" Your middle class mores are challenged. "Shouldn't they at least say 'Trick or treat'?" Usually these kids have no costumes or maybe the littlest one has something adorable on like a Freddy Krueger get up or the charming bloody scream mask.And every year I think the same thing, "Halloween costumes are not that expensive and you can still make one even cheaper." So what's the deal? Is this one of those let's get back at the white folks, or the big city folks or whatever, and their uptight asses. We'll go get free candy. So, I usually end up getting the bargain bag of candy full of tootsie rolls and smarties. If quality chocolate comes into this house, the grown ups get first dibs. Besides, too much candy gives kids cavities and what kind of parent would sanction that?

The thing I must sanction as a parent is full Halloween acknowledgement. It is not harvest festival; we are not going to the freakin' Trunk or Treat in the mega church parking lot. (Whatchu gonna do with all that junk in yo trunk?) This is glorious Halloween. Time for devils and good ol' witches and all that stuff. You can't get all pleasant about Easter with its fertility invoking colored eggs, horny bunnies, and bounty of chicks without paying tribute to the inevitability and horror of death, as the nights grow longer and chillier and the moon stares down from its widow's veil. Just pray that it's not too chilly because nothing sucks more than having to wear a coat over your Halloween costume.

Pop Will Eat Itself or Eulogy for Starwood

By E.G. Turpin for Moondog Free Press

Several years ago, when I was in college, there was a trendy little ensemble oh so cleverly named Pop Will Eat Itself. I loved saying the name even more than the few songs I had heard by the group. Back in 1995,I was excited at the prospect of seeing those crazy guys right here in Murfreesboro, but alas, I fell asleep watching NIN after becoming so disappointed that Pop Will Eat Itself was a no-show for the evening.

Yes, that's right, the perpetual sawing, grinding and screaming of Nine Inch Nails put me right to sleep. Even the oooh so gruesome, so apalling, creepily sped up grainy film footage of maggots feasting on dead rabbits couldn't keep me interested in Trent Reznor's little ego trip. I just wanted to see Pop Eat Itself, not maggots eat bunnies!

Well, as it turned out, I have watched pop eat itself. Once the recording industry started actually counting what was really being sold, it became apparent that ?indie? was big, and that rap was not really crap after all. The industry diversified and exploded. And here we are in the age of American Idol and I-tunes. Did you just hear a great song on a luxury sedan commercial? Go download it. In your underwear. Am I the only one who feels hugely uncool when I hear new songs on commercials? But hearing a pop tune already gathering dust in my collection, carefully selected by hip ad execs -- ah yes, ?you restoreth my soul. You leadeth me to Starbucks drive thru.? Which brings me to Starwood.

I spent many a starry night on the lawn at Starwood. It really was a nice place to go to a show. Nice like sneaking a pint of Jim Beam in the small of my back, puking during ?Sweet Child of Mine? and then rallying to rush the stage for ?Back in the Saddle Again.? Nice like the Smokin' Grooves tour featuring The Fugees, Pharcyde, and *cough cough* Cypress Hill. Nice like fighting for my right to party with the Beastie Boys and watching Run rock rhymes. Like Bob Dylan not speaking a word to the audience. Like Sting not shutting up. Nice like giggling at Spinal Tap with Dr. Moondog. But the days of paying a reasonable sum to see a couple of bands play on a summer night seem to be over. Oh I'm old and I'm sure there are hot spots and cool bars, just like always. But going to the GEC/Sommet sucks. And as I write this parents are paying hundreds of dollars for their daughters to see Hannah Montana. What is wrong here?

Pop music is everywhere. It has gotten to the point that I enjoy it when a store manager has forgotten to turn on the ubiquitous shopping soundtrack. I knew things had gotten out of hand when I was gleefully whistling pushing my shopping cart with a perky wifey gait as Green Day filled the aisles of Kroger. WTF? What has this world come to? What's next? Maybe a little Holiday in Cambodia at the dentist's office? How about some 2 live crew at the DMV? ?Hey hey we want some (expletive deleted).

My girl friend and I escaped our housewife drudgery one afternoon to have a few beers. feeling a little crazy, we went to a local dive, as opposed to having apple tini's at O'Charley's ? how predictable is that?! What should play on the jukebox, as Mexicans shoot pool and blood shot house framers down shots quietly and anonymously at the bar, why the old Red Hot Chili Pepper's standard, ?I want to party on your pussy.?
Hmmm, even we blushed, downed our beers and made quiet retreats into the bright sunlight. I am confused. What goes where?

The last time I visited my old friend, the also now deceased Tower Records, I was stunned and apalled that I, at age 39, was practically the youngest person in there. Ask not for whom the bell tolls, $20 Compact Disc, it tolls for thee . . .

Where were all the skinny, bespeckled guys with their sonic youth tee shirts? What happened to all the temporary lesbians periodically checking to see who was checking if they were holding hands with their girlfriends? Replaced with middle aged fat guys in the jazz section, or gasp, vocalists. Oh, and me, actually reading the backs of rap cds and checking the X section. X, XTC, Yello, . . . yup, Warren Zevon, ZZ Top. We're done here.

Having trouble with the feed

It's always something.

UPDATE: the feed is working again 10/23/07 @ 11:49 AM