I know Gawker already hit ya with this review of Paul Sevigny's band, but I gotta chime in with, "I went to high school with this kid. He had a rad mini-half pipe in his bedroom. Once, when I was English class, we had to bring in a poem we liked. He brought in 'Paul Revere' by the Beastie Boys and read it aloud. Can't remember if he Human Beat Boxed at all or not."

Hear Ye, Hear Ye: You Got the Look
There are two great things about the British:
1) You can vote to decide whether the British courts should continue wearing those floppy wigs
2) They are just so damn polite it's cute as a button: "We'd welcome your views on court working dress and would be most grateful if you would take the time to complete this questionnaire."

I'm typing this from the can
To paraphrase Metallica: Wireless up your ass!

the romance of vagues
I suggest you download "the twilight sleep." it's a winner anyday.

Heartbreaking Work of Comically Hilarious Genius... God That Bit Is Getting Old
A little birdie told me that a guy name Eggers used to draw cartoons.

Get Me a Pipet Stat! Wait! Make That a Pipet of Martini, Trapper
When did Alan Alda become worthy of writing intros to science articles? Sure, he has that show on NOVA, but shouldn't he be out somewhere acting all smarmy and sensitive and not mucking around in a bug's butt?

Play this Game, for Posterity
I was sifting through some old e-mail and found this super fun Shockwave game I was obsessed with for about a day and a half back in 2001. Man, thems were the waning hours of the dot-com maelstrom, when me an' the other LF guy used to sit around the office of the death star with nothing to do but play stuff like this and draw cartoons of co-workers on the whiteboard. We'd kill an afternoon deader than chopped meat. Ahh, to be young and bored and underemployed.

As My Friend Put It: Why NOT to Move to L.A.
You are not better than everyone else; you absolutely know you have questions that are frequently asked to Steve Kmetko.

Bonus: The site has some snazzy pics.

Facts at Your Fingertips
1. We're excited to announce that Lasagnafarm.com has been chosen as the official blog of rainy Saturdays.
2. When your boss yells at you for slurring your words, tell him "drunk" is not a four-letter word.
3. I still don't understand the saying "stupid is as stupid does." I only know it's a stupid saying.
4. All the good IM names have been taken. I had to use my real name.
5. "8 Simple Rules for Dating My Daughter" should be called "9 Simple Rules for Dating My Daughter." Number 9 would be "no anal."
6. The baking-soda-and-vinegar volcano is still the coolest science fair project ever.
7. The space bar on my computer keeps getting stuck.
8. Things are better when they are loud. If they can't be loud they should at least be heavy.
9. Krucoff is not on IM today.
10. Puffy stickers are still an excellent way of telling someone you like like them.

The Rawk -- in MP3 form
Empowering punk: Pennywise: Time Marches On
Intellectual punk: Bad Religion: Land of Competition
Slurred-drunk punk: Rancid: Adina
Chick punk: The Distillers: I Am a Revenant

The Guy Who Invented the Internet(TM)
Someone tell this kid to update his site already.

The Art of Saddam Hussein
Nothing says evil depot like a mural of Fabio fighting a big snake. When I was in high school, I tried to get my brother to air brush a wizard holding a crystal ball on the hood of my white Chrysler LeBaron GTS. He sketched some stuff out that ultimately looked like Gary Gygax rejects from Dungeon and Dragons. Apparently I shoulda got Rowena Morrill to do the job.

An Authority on Lying: You've Got to Be Kidding Me
You got to love a country that promotes a lout like Stephen Glass into a pundit on the truth when we should have fed him the the old Oedipus banishment from civilization routine. Now Glass will forever be turned to when some lazy reporter needs a quote about fabrication in the newsroom. Shame on everyone involved here. Let's ignore Glass (and Jayson Blair) until they descend into poverty and disappear, but first let's see if we can get some meany like Sam Waterson from "Law & Order" to go for the jugular.

Open Letter from Friedman's Would-be Editor
Mike Taibbi of the NYPress spews vitrol on Tom Friedman, the NYT's maven of middle east affairs, for high crimes against the English language. The charge? Mixing metaphors like fish in a barrel of monkeys. I don't know how I feel about this one. Its kinda funny, kinda mean spirited, kinda not funny or clever enough to nail the angry-literary-guy schtick, but amusing nonetheless. Taibbi's ex-addict-holding-the-editorial-line bit reads like a Hunter S. Thompson rant, if the old gonzo had been chained to an Aeron chair and forced to edit Convenience Store News for thirty or so years.

Read these IM conversations or regret it forever

It's the simple things.

N-Gage? N-Sold.
I'm so dumb.

100 Best Books of the 20th Century
This is where you should be, but this is where you are.

You're all underachievers. (I'm excluding myself in this condemnation because I've read all but 12 of the 100 Best.) L. Ron Hubbard! Before he was a Scientologist, he was a Satanist. I'm not kidding! He was. Read about it in Mike Davis' "City of Quartz" if you don't believe me.

Art Stuff You Should Probably Attend
1. Ernest Chiriacka at Brooklyn Museum of Art
2. Mark Mothersbaugh at Fuse Gallery

Bock the Vote
Beer.com, a keg-culture site, seems to feature copy written by foreigners:

"Our team of experienced online editors, writers and producers from across North America offer you beer- and party-related stuff you won't find at other beer sites. The only thing we takes seriously is beer."

Sounds relatively ok so far. Let's take a peek at a feature:

"It's midnight Saturday. Your place is rammed, the keg's flowing and everyone's pumped. You need a rad album to push it to the next level. beer.com has assembled a list of all-time best party albums guaranteed to have everyone bustin' moves. What's the best ever? That's up to you to and your buddies to decide by casting your votes below. Your all-time best party album not mentioned? Submit your selection and check back often to see if your platter ranks. If it makes it on the list, we'll send you some beer.com swag."

Whoa! Who let Jean Cretien in here! Rammed? Platter ranks? Bustin' moves? Sounds to me like Wheels's parents are out of town!

Check out their top 20 best party albums of all time and wonder why Canada's The Tragically Hip is included alongside "Back in Black" and "Appetite for Destruction." What the hell, eh?

Are You My Friend?
Article in the Observer today about the obligation of having friends. Whatever you think of these scheduling challenged individuals (fancy pants fools, all of them, I say), I found it interesting that none of them remebered that their friends probably read the Observer too.

Do you really think this dude isn't going to recognize himself? Some chick says, "A friend of mine was having a party because he was leaving the next day to cover the war in Iraq," she said. "It was his last night in the U.S., and I lied because I wanted to go home and watch 24. Sorry, Kiefer trumps you."

C'mon, that Iraq-bounder is certainly going to recognize himself, and I hope he decks her for her snide comments

Remind Me Again Why I'm Inside
Just a reminder to all of you midtown Centrinos in the house. Get the hell outside.

Lasagnafarm's Tip Jar
Help me out. I'm taking up a collection to buy me some culture.

The Humor of Maxim
A joke, yes. An ironic joke? Don't flatter them. The venerable The Atlantic takes a stab at undestanding porn-for-those-too-shy-to-buy-actual-porn.

Striperella
And I quote (God bless Google caching password protected sites): "During each half hour, Stripperella (a.k.a. Erotica Jones, mild-mannered exotic dancer) will face challenges like the evil plastic surgeon Dr. Cesarean, who has been installing nitroglycerin breast implants in her ecdysiast friends"

Make Nice Nice
Submit a request to become friends with Lasagnafarm.com Other Blogs only.

I Am Forever Indebted to Gothamist . . .
For showing me this article on toby macguire in the LA Times by an excellent reporter named Kim Masters. This woman is amazing for her willingness not to kiss the ass that feeds her. Amazing. Will she marry me? I doubt it, but I will love her anyway.

I especially like the part where Ms. Masters compares a studio head's daughter to a horse. So sly: "When Maguire's girlfriend, Jennifer Meyer, told her father what had happened, the Universal chief was incredulous. He had more than one pony, so to speak, in this race. Not only was Maguire dating his daughter, he also was in Universal's 'Seabiscuit.' "

IM Goes Fast Food
A Forbes story about IM being used at a Hardee's restaurant. Don't these people know IM should only be used for gossiping.

Small-Time Revolving Door
With respect to MediaBistro, the Farm has its own class of people.

-- May 13, 2003: Pharma and life sciences research and production editor leaving his deep south NJ headqaurters to take trad. publishing job in Hoboken as a production editor.

Friends of the Farm Do Stuff!
1. Some go to NYU and build robots: Dodgeball Guru at Tisch
2. Others take pics and do slide shows: Jason Fulford at AIGA

diclaimer: attend at your own risk. we know them, but not well

The Gray Lady whores herself for a cheap byline
This review of two fitness books -- don't ask me why I'm reading this -- makes me mad. This is not a review, it is just a notice that these books came out. I thoroughly read the entire article and cannot find one word that tells me whether these books would be valuable.

The most flagrant offense: "These two books aim to help people lose weight, build muscle mass, strengthen bones and improve flexibility . . . " -- Aim? Aim? I AIM to stop reading the Times.

You got to love Michiko Kakutani

And once again [Margaret Atwood] has produced a lumpy hodge-podge of a book: a novel that's didactic, at times intriguing but in the end thoroughly unpersuasive. [NY Times]

Oh my God, those people in San Fran are fierce drunks.

I like this part: "New Yorkers spent less on household furnishings than the residents of any of five other metropolitan areas studied except for Boston." That's because our houses are half the size of those Friscans' bloated livers.

It'd be cool if NYC became so expensive that only billionaires and movie stars could afford to live here. We'd have them all caged up on an island like it was Jurassic Park. Then the rest of us could buy tickets and come watch the animals in the zoo.

Everyone and everyone wants to work for Google these days. And so do I.

This my cover letter. Never got a reply. No surprise, eh?

Google:

Humbly, I would like to declare my candidacy for the job of Creative Maximizer. I believe this letter will show that I bring the necessary skills and that my credentials and passion are a perfect match for this demanding position.

For instance, John McPhee and his volume on oranges1 and Nicholson Baker and his discourse on shoe laces and assorted minutiae2 are the bibles on which I lay my hand and swear an oath to obey the written word?s exactitude. I dare say, finding the mot juste is not just a skill I possess; it is a religion, of which I am as passionate about as Robert Burton and his precious melancholy3.

Trained by the Pulitzer Prize-winning poet Charles Simic, who taught me to notice the expansiveness of even the smallest, most commonplace object, I can turn out succinct and accurate phrases that inspire, compel, and enlighten ? with the goal of persuading readers to experience their own broad palette of emotions. I quote a verse from my work The Bicycle Poems as an example:

"I love to ride my bicycle,
I love to ride my bike."
The uncontrollable illusion created
by the whirring spokes of a bicycle wheel
like trying to get a song out of your head.4

Additionally, I know that the written word is malleable and that to keep up the writer must be as well. To this end, my mind is as flexible as a bean bag and as sharp as the aroma of the finest cheddar. If need be, I can ape Hemingway?s terse descriptive passages and then the next moment tap the depths of my vocabulary and pen florid, extended prose a la Joseph Conrad. Once, to win a bar bet, I mimicked Neal Pollack?s boastful style so convincingly I startled even myself and had to check my scalp to see that I had not, in fact, turned into the satirist. Thankfully, my hair was still there.

At age five on a family trip to Old Sturbridge Village, I mastered Mad Libs instantly, intuitively knowing what punch line would bring the greatest amusement to the carload of family members. To me, the jumble is a Rorschach test, not just an enjoyable way to pass the time. Scrabble is a window to the human soul. And of course, quite simply put, the crossword is a sublime creation.

I can bring this appreciation and these skills to Google, in its effort to mine words and extract the influence they command. I look forward to discussing this opportunity with you and the Google staff.

Sincerely,
Chris Gage



1 Oranges, John A. McPhee, Noonday Press; Reissue edition, April 1991
2 The Mezzanine, Nicholson Baker Vintage Books; Reissue edition, January 1990
3 The Anatomy of Melancholy, Robert Burton,New York Review of Books; April 9, 2001
4 The Bicycle Poems, Chris Gage, 2001

The Greatest Idea Ever(tm)?
Possibly. Just leave it to those kids at Gawker. It's like they have actual editorial meetings over there. They make LF.com look like chimps

I'm dying here
Does anyone know how to build a solar panel because I can't afford to live in this city anymore without cutting some fat somewhere.

Second Avenue Subway
Dig it. No, wait, don't. I live there and it's bound to ruin my life. Say it with me: Stay away MTA! Stay away MTA! Stay away MTA! Stay away MTA!

Couric's Day as Jay
Okay, so Katie Couric switched jobs for a day with Jay Leno, while Matt Lauer is stuck subbing for a New York cabbie? C'mon Katie, go out on a limb! Come down and throw your car keys into my fishbowl. Try editing research reports for a day and not blowing your brains out. I'll bet you can't do it.

The incredibly lame interview thing is getting out of hand.
These two interviews are both lame. They are interviews that fail, and I suppose are supposed to be interesting from that POV. They are not. They are just foolish post-modern tripe. Next time you want to make a statement about, er, whatever you're trying to make a statement about, try harder and quit wasting my time.

Nerve: Interview with mom about sex
McSweeney's: Interview with cemetary grounds keeper about his job

The coolest book cover. Haven't read the book though. Donate it to your local library and I will check it out.

Donate books to your library
OK, people, let's do this (from metafilter; and pamie.com). Library budgets are being slashed and politicians clearly don't give a damn. So, everyone donate at least book to a local library and help the world stay a good place.

New York Public Library donation page. For more information on donations to The Branch Libraries, please contact Charlene Moseley (212-576-0040).

Join me in hating fallen angel celebs
C'mon, Americans. Let's NOT forgive Stephen Glass, the noxious liar. We forgive celebs all the time (see the Smoking Gun for an appendix of these asses). These people deserve nothing more than condescension, vitriol, and a good old-fashioned public stoning. And yes, I AM without sin, so I will cast the first one. There is a line of celebs in training that circles the whole damn block. We'll just bring someone up from the farm teams and put the hoodwinkers, criminals, and charlatans out to pasture.

Hard to understand pricing
Will someone please tell me how much this overstuffed beast is.

T-Bird, no pheonix,crashes
No one can accuse me of not being a good American. I eat fast food, watch way too much TV, and hate the French. Yet I applaud when our large multinational companies do a belly flop in the pool of customer approval. Ford's Thunderbird rehash will be no more. This shoulda been a no-brainer from the start, but the boys at Ford,woefully outta touch (do the CEOs even drive, or are they chauffered), were stupid enough to think we'd drop nearly $40K for just any underpowered Detroit abortion. When the big cats get a clue and streamline, treat people with respect, and make decent cars sans planned obsolescence (i.e., become Toyota) then I'll buy one of their rolling time bombs.

Stephen Jay Gould tells from whence base ball originated.

Quote 1: Abner Doubleday was a man with "no recorded tie to the game and who, in the words of Donald Honig, probably 'didn't know a baseball from a kumquat'? "
Quote 2: "Creation myths, as noted before, identify heroes and sacred places, while evolutionary stories provide no palpable, particular thing as a symbol for reverence, worship, or patriotism."

Cat on a Soft Fat Couch
Having decided to give up my hispter credentials once and for all, I stayed inside all of Sunday waching six hours of HBO's "The Wire," possible my favorite television show of all time. (Thank you OnDemand digital cable service thing-a-ma-bob for introducing us.) What did I like about it?
1) They swear. TV is always better when people cuss like in IRL (in real life)
2) There is so much slang, I almost never truly understood the overly complicated plots. This sounds like a negative, but I enjoy the fuzzy thing my head does when I'm confused.
3) Special guest appearance by Steve Earl
4) This dude is hard.
5) Theme song is a Tom Wait's tune
6) Baltimore scares me. Except for the water-front Hooters sit-down family-style restaurant.
7) Cast bios show that the "Law and Order" franchise employed just about everyone in Hollywood at one time.