It Is Summer

Today, May 1: we officially declare the beginning of summer.

It Must Be Summer

Shit, it's been a while. Back to the drawing board for some upcoming recording. Shoot for Empire.

An unexpectedly sunny afternoon in Brighton, MA. Mid-spring and here's what's on the stereo:

"One Track Mind," The Heartbreakers
"Journey to the Center of the Mind,"Amboy Dukes
"Lessons Learned from Rocky 1 to Rocky 3," Cornershop
"Little Sister," Queens of the Stone Age
"Making Time," The Creation
"Laugh Laugh," The Beau Brummels
"Lies," The Knickerbockers
"Raising Hell," Run DMC
"You Don't Know What Love Is," White Stripes

Bonus:
"Loving Cup," The Rolling Stones

Also Here

Hello, here too.

Odds and Ends

Thanks again to those that came out on Friday night to see Wilford Brimley and British Tits: we raised $122 for this guy, which is awesome.

Now for some clips and shits: the mighty, mighty Raspberries...Chris Hansen as a diligent businessman ("those are great looking shoes, by the way")...the Holy Fastball...Schilling, about halfway down, on who throws the best what... "Amidst an eerie green glow under the ring resides Hornswoggle, a little man who looks like a mini version of the fighting Irishman"...playing video games with Flip...one of my favorite melodies of ever...Manson vs. The Judge...i dig these guys, very very nice fellows.

Nyquil

In one of those happy cold medicine wakefulness moments, I caught the tail end of Lucinda Williams' new single on Letterman last night.

Check it out. She's a master.

Maine

Up here in rural Maine. Maine's a great name for a CD. Not for a song, and probably not for a band. And now that I think of it, not for "a CD" either, but rather a good, full-length, feedback-through-a-harmony-strainer album. So don't no one steal it; I'll write an album called Maine someday. Not the next one, though...I think that ought to be Shoot for Empire. So don't no one steal that one either.

Hit our myspace for some new show info as well as how the hell you can get our new CD (April 1 release).

Link here. Some mornings you just wish you could break through the fucking screen and put your arms around someone and keep them safe forever.

It's Not Like I Wrote to the Pussycat Dolls or Some Shit

File under: Online Stalking.

Well, it's Tuesday night after all and I just watched my buddy Chris Hansen over at Dateline NBC take down some predators...

So I'm at war with this band I went to see last week. We're at two 'read', i.e. unreplied myspace messages asking them the name of the song that opened their set. You know why I asked them? Because I loved it; I thought it was great; I was singing it to myself all night and I wanted to know if I could buy it or listen to it anywhere. In fact, I told them that. "You guys fucking rocked," I believe I wrote. Why yes, that's exactly what I wrote.

No response. And...again. And...no response. I guess I just don't get that. Would have taken ten seconds to say thanks and tell me the name of the song. Yeah, I know, I don't know their insides. But it still sucks. I wish them mediocrity from here on out.

Signed,
Rupert Pupkin, The King of Comedy