MySpace Survey (II)

Remember MySpace surveys? You could while away a Tuesday evening writing about yourself and your opinions by filling out a survey that someone had created, filled with such hard-hitting questions as "who was your first kiss?" and "what's your favorite snack?" And then you could post your filled-out survey on your MySpace page for your Top Eight and the rest of your friends to enjoy, and maybe even fill out for themselves.

I thought it would be fun to harken back to those halcyon MySpace days and fill out one of those old surveys. I found this survey from 2005, and copied the question below to fill out. Should be fun!

Favorite color: green

Color of your hair: dark brown

Favorite color of hair: blonde

Favorite hair: the hair on my head

Least favorite hair: the hair on my back

Favorite hare: jackrabbit

Favorite food: tacos

Favorite food cart: the one at 16th and Race

Favorite Mario Kart: Mario Kart 64

Favorite food to eat while playing Mario Kart: tacos

First food: breast milk

Most recent food: a Wawa Sizzli

Food you ate halfway between those two foods: a hot dog on Hot Dog Tuesday at Presenation B.V.M.?

Worst hair in food: there were at least a dozen hairs in the nachos we ordered at that one Poconos restaurant in 1998

Best hare food: I've never eaten rabbit

Do you know the difference between rabbits and hares: no

Do you care to find out: no

Are you sure you've never eaten rabbit: no?

C'mon, admit that you eat rabbits: terrible survey

Lucky number: it used to be 8, and Willow was born on the 8th, so maybe it still is

Favorite number: it used to be 88, because it was my lucky number twice, plus the year I was born, but I found out recently that's the nazi number, so it is no longer my favorite number

Are you a nazi: what? no!

Your blood type: don't know

Do you get squeamish at the sight of blood: yes

Would you sacrifice your own blood for your leader and your motherland: dude, I'm not a fucking nazi

Favorite genre of music: indie rock, garage rock, I've been getting into midwest emo a bit

Least favorite genre of music: probably electronica/dance music

Favorite music about rabbits: Rabbit Habits by Man Man

Favorite music about blood: White Blood Cells by the White Stripes

Favorite music about Mario Kart: The Koopa Troopa Beach race music

Favorite music about nazis: one more question about nazis and I'm out

First kiss: Holly M. during truth or dare

Do you regret it: no, not really, we were young and innocent

We mean the survey, do you regret doing this survey: yes

First sex: not going to talk about it

How old were you when you had first sex: 19

Do you regret it: no, I think at 19 I was old enough to consent and to know what I wanted

Again, we mean the survey, do you regret doing this survey still: still yes

Have you ever eaten your own boogers: probably when I was young

Have you ever eaten someone else's boogers: probably during a game of Latin Kings

Have you ever blended your boogers and someone else's boogers together and made a booger sandwich and eaten that: no

Has a booger ever eaten you: no

How can you be sure you aren't living in a simulation, and the real you is laying in a vat of boogers, and the booger overlords are harvesting your brain powers to power their vast booger cities, and meanwhile you are trapped in a dream, a dream in which you apparently eat boogers: I don't know

The first lie you ever told: probably that I did not fight my sister when I really did fight my sister

Most recent lie you told: that I also prefer chicken in the crockpot to chicken baked in the oven

Have you lied so far in this survey: no

Are you seriously trying to tell me that didn't lie, and you aren't a virgin: yes, I'm not lying

You are a liar: no

You are a liar: no

You are a liar: chill

What is your political persuasion: proud liberal progressive, reluctant democrat

If one day a racist sexually abusive criminal millionaire runs for office, would you vote for him: no

Would you ever run for office: maybe, maybe not

Favorite president: Teddy Roosevelt seemed cool

Least favorite president: c'mon now

What president would be best at Mario Kart, in your opinion: JFK, just based on his comparably younger age

Has a president ever eaten a booger: I guess

Is the current president... a nazi?!: actually, yeah

Last beverage: water

Last phone call: scam likely

Last time you cried: while watching Mind the Gap

Pussy: no

Have you ever cried on the phone: not that I can recall

Have you ever cried playing Mario Kart: I usually win, so no

Favorite color: still blue

Favourite color: British blue

Last person you met who changed you: my daughter

Last person you met whom you changed: my daughter, literally

Could you beat that person in Mario Kart: probably

Is that person a rabbit: no

Nicknames: Joe, Joey

Explain those nicknames: ...they are short for Joseph?

What's the worst thing anyone has ever called you: cunt

Who called you that: everyone I play in Mario Kart

Hey, only we can mention Mario Kart: okay

Male or female: male

Are you sure: yes

Ha, we meant who do you LIKE, male or female: okay then, female

Haha, you're a female?!: no

Do you regret taking this survey: yes

Have you ever had a surgery: not besides a root canal

Would you ever have elective surgery: no

Would you ever get breast implants: no

Would you ever get a breast reduction: I guess, if my titties get any bigger

Would you ever perform a surgery: As I already established, I'm blood-squeamish

But what if the surgery was on a rabbit: do rabbits bleed?

Just answer the question: no

Did you know that surgeons typically keep their wits about them through brutal 40-hour shifts by playing periodic intense bouts of Mario Kart: no

Would you allow a surgeon to perform open-heart surgery on you if you knew that he typically chose Luigi in Mario Kart: no

Sensitive or loud: loud

Shy or outgoing: shy sober, outgoing drunk

Tall or short: tall

Skinny or fat: in the middle

Are you Gordo from Lizzy McGuire: no

Real Irish or Fake Irish: fake

Hard worker or lazy: lazy

Does your boss read your MySpace: no

Would your boss like that you described yourself as "lazy": how do you know I picked "lazy"?

Everyone picks "lazy," you're filling out a fucking MySpace survey during work hours, clearly you are lazy: true

Do you like your job: it's fine

What is your dream job: left fielder and lead-off hitter for the Philadelphia Phillies

But for real: lucrative bar owner

Have you ever been fired from a job: no

Do you want to be fired from your current job because we can make it happen: no

Have you ever eaten a banana: yes

Are you gay: no

Are the two above answers different: yes?

You are gay: okay

Do you believe in miracles: figuratively? sure, but actually? no

Do you believe in love at first sight: no, but I think it's possible to fall in love pretty quickly after that

Do you believe in angels: as much as I love It's A Wonderful Life, no

Do you believe in the pee tape: yes... wait, this was written in 2005???

If you could go back in time to any day of your life, when would it be: wedding day

Even if that meant that you would irreparably shatter the very fabric of time: when you put it that way, no

Would you kill baby Hitler: no

So you're a nazi: NO. I just don't have faith that time is as malleable as that hypothetical scenario suggests

Do you bite your nails: yes

Do you bite actual nails: no

Would you bite baby Hitler: sure

What Mario Kart character would Hitler choose: Wario

What are your plans for the weekend: nothing on Friday, a family party on Saturday, work on Sunday

Are you a fucking loser: clearly

What were you doing exactly ten years ago today: probably went to class and then went to a party at night and probably drank Hurricanes

What were you doing exactly twenty years ago today: probably riding my bike and playing Capture on Longshore Ave.

What were you doing exactly thirty years ago today: probably shitting myself and drinking milk

What were you doing exactly forty years ago today: I didn't exist

What were you doing exactly fifty years ago today: I didn't exist

Were were you doing exactly sixty years ago today: do people in their 60s seriously fill out MySpace surveys?

Favorite gas to breathe: oxygen

Second favorite: nitrogen

Third favorite: water vapor

Fourth favorite: small amounts of carbon dioxide

Do you regret taking this survey: yes

Would you ever create your own MySpace survey and pass it off as one that you "found" all in the service of some alleged extended joke that never quite comes together the way you wanted it to: no

Let's dig a little deeper into your psyche; what are you afraid of: slugs

Why: I must've had a traumatic experience at a young enough age that I can't remember it

Is that the only thing you are a afraid of: no, I'm afraid of disappointing the people I love

Why: because it's clear at this point that my life is going to serve no great, memorable purpose, my impact in the grand course of history will be absolutely microscopic, so small as to be practically nonexistent, so at this point the only thing that really matters is that I cause more joy than pain in the people whom I surround myself with, but I live in constant fear that I'll fail at that too, and if that's the case, then I'm truly without purpose, and that scares the fuck out of me

Do you like cotton candy: yes

But what are you seriously doing to address those fears: carry salt

No, I mean the other one: I don't know, nothing? I mean, I'm doing what I've always done, and try to be nice to the people I care about, and show loyalty, and work just hard enough to earn a paycheck to support my family, and try to not expose my flaws too often to my friends, and try to be open to new experiences so that I feel fulfilled and that will turn into happiness and that happiness will be contagious, these are all things that I tell myself, but the fear comes in when I doubt myself and my ability to do any of this, and it's not like I can go around asking people if I "cause more joy than pain" in their lives, because even if the answer is yes, the question itself is a total turn-off, akin to asking someone to wrap a particularly gruesome elbow scrape with gauze

I think that's enough, tell me again about your first sex: no

Should we talk about Mario Kart some more: no

How hard can you beat a horse before it's dead: you tell me

Is there anyone in your life who you'd die for: my wife and daughter

Do you want to die: for them? I mean, I would if I had to

No, do you want to die, straight up, for any reason: no

Do you want to die right now: no

Do you want to be murdered as you fill out a MySpace survey: no

Do you want someone to creep up behind you with a large, sharp knife, quietly getting closer and closer to your work desk, and then as you are filling out the final question on the MySpace survey, this mystery assailant plunges the knife through your skull, while your coworkers scream and scream and you slowly fade to black:

The Albums That Matter: "Awaken, My Love!"

Joe runs through every album on his iPod, mostly in alphabetical order, and offers some brief thoughts. Check out previous columns HERE.

"Awaken, My Love!"

Childish Gambino

2016

There is a theory in literature called "The Death of the Author," which argues that the only thing worth considering and discussing about a book is the words in the book itself. The author's intentions, biography, and perception by the public are completely irrelevant. An example that might be relevant to PoYB readers—according to "The Death of the Author," Dumbledore is not gay, despite the fact that J.K. Rowling says he is gay, that is a fact according to canon, and other entertainment (the prequel movies, I guess?) may hint that he is gay. According to the theory, none of that matters. What matters is the text, and absolutely nothing in the seven Harry Potter books says that he is gay.

This theory could easily be used in music as well. Call it "The Death of the Artist." If we apply this theory to an album, then we have to completely ignore the context in which the album was released, the artist's intentions when it comes to lyrics and melodies and rhythms, and how the audience perceives the work vs. how it was intended to be perceived. If I believed in "The Death of the Artist," then this music column would be a lot more boring than it already is. But it's an interesting theory to consider, regardless.

I can't think of an album that would change more dramatically with "Death of an Artist" applied to it than "Awaken, My Love!" What is ostensibly a simple funk pastiche becomes something else entirely simply because Childish Gambino is the artist who created it.

If you've never heard of Donald Glover, then I don't really know what to tell you, because the dude has been having a moment. It feels like he is everywhere, and it feels like he can do no wrong. He created and is the showrunner for the hit TV show Atlanta, which most critics agree is the best show on television, and even though I may not rank it quite that high, I find it hard pressed to argue the point, because it's fucking great. He can release subpar rap backed by batshit crazy iconic music videos and hit #1 easily, like he did with "This Is America." And he apparently can release a from-out-of-nowhere straight up funk album and get it nominated for Album of the Year at the Grammys.

Yes, Childish Gambino's "Awaken, My Love!" was nominated for the music industry's highest honor in 2018. This primarily speaks to the fact that the Grammys (as well as Oscars and Emmys) nominate artists based on their star power more so than the quality of their work. They are all star-fuckers. I like this album, but in no reality was "Awaken, My Love!" one of the top five best albums from October 2016 to September 2017. Make no mistake about it, this LP was nominated because Donald Glover created it.

See? There I go, talking about the album in terms of its context and its author, and not the songs themselves. Can't do "Death of the Artist" here. It's fucking impossible. I could try, but you wouldn't get the whole story. But let's try, briefly.

"Awaken, My Love!" is a busy album, with lots of stray sounds pouring in from all directions. It's an album that strives to create atmosphere rather than specific moments. Listen to a song like "Zombies," and try to count how many parts are layered on top of one another. You have the languid funk beat, you have Glover belting some legit vibrato that walks the line between impressive and embarrassing, you have haunted, whispery backing vocals, twinkling chimes, a guy making monster noises, hand claps and other random percussion, squishy synths, autotunes, I mean, I could keep going if you want.

A majority of the songs are like this, and I kind of dig it. In fact, I'll say that the music becomes more enjoyable the more stuffed it is (e.g. "Riot"), and becomes more of a slog when the music thins out and becomes more direct (e.g. most of the back half).

I referred to this album as a "funk pastiche" previously, and I'll stand by that, even though I am decidedly not a funk music expert. Even a novice like myself can tell that Childish Gambino offers nothing new on this album. It almost seems like he read the opening paragraph of the "Funk" Wikipedia page and said, "I want to do that." If that was the case, then he succeeded. This is a legitimate funk album.

But it would not stand out at all if, again, Donald Glover were not the creator of it. I mean, we haven't even talked yet about the fact that Childish Gambino, up until this album was released, was Glover's corny nerd-rapper persona, infamously dubbed the "tombstone of hashtag rap" by Pitchfork. It was awful, and as much as I adored Glover in Community, I stayed far away from that trash. That he ended up releasing under this moniker even a half-decent funk album, featuring absolutely zero rapping, is kind of crazy to think about.

This hammers home the point, yet again, that this album is only notable due to context. On its own, it's mostly pleasurable music to play in the background on late night car rides home. Given full context, it's a Grammy-nominated achievement that was somehow able to stretch even further what a brilliant Hollywood mind was capable of. "Awaken, My Love!" is integral with Donald Glover, and it's practically forgettable without him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If this album sounds interesting, try this song: "Boogieman"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Stray Observations

• Since the album was nominated for Best Album, Childish Gambino performed at the ceremony, as is usually customary (I say "usually" because Lorde was fucked and didn't perform, which costs the Grammys even more credibility, as Melodrama was the best of the five albums nominated, but I DIGRESS). He played "Terrified," and it was as goofy as you might expect.
• Tangential at best, but my personal favorite album during the '16-'17 Grammy period was The National's Sleep Well Beast, which actually won for Best Alternative Album, marking the first time ever that PoYB's best album of the year also won a major Grammy. This may be one of the reasons why I was more apathetic than upset that fucking Bruno Mars ultimately won Best Album. White suburban moms rejoice.
• The most well-known song from the album is probably "Redbone." It peaked at #12 on the Billboard Hot 100, his highest charting until "This Is America" hit #1. It was featured in the hit horror movie Get Out. And apparently, it was also a meme? I did not know this until I read the wiki article for the song. I don't give a fuck about memes, so I'm not going to do any supplemental research regarding "Redbone"'s meme status.
• Want more context? Glover has said that he didn't have a good time making this album. Take that as you will.
• ALBUM COVER: This is a little embarrassing, but it took until writing this column for me to realize that there's a person on the cover of the album. All I saw was the bright blue halo. I mean, it's creepy as fuck, so maybe the mind sees what it wants to (or doesn't want to) see. Ibra Ake is the creative director who took the picture, and he is also part of the writing staff on Atlanta. Giannina Oteto is the model featured in the photo, and she is very attractive when you can actually see her pupils. The jeweler Laura Wass created the headdress worn in the photo, and apparently she also created the crown worn by Beyoncé in her "7/11" video.
• Pam and I had an opportunity to see Donald Glover live, but this was prior to "Awaken, My Love!"'s release. I think it was Spring 2011. The majority of his set was dedicated to his standup comedy, but he was asked to perform some rap at the tail end of the night. My buddy Jamie ran up on stage to try to beatbox for Childish Gambino, and from what I recall, it... did not go well.
• Oh yeah! If you want, you can read that extremely harsh Pitchfork panning of Childish Gambino's previous release, Camp, here. It's fucking great.
• Jesus Christ, I was about to hit "publish" when I realized that I had been calling this album "Awaken, My Child!" the whole time. I don't know why I thought that was the name of the album. Maybe I got mixed up because the artist is Childish Gambino.
• Which I guess begs the final question, what's up with that title? I discussed the quotation marks obsessively when I reviewed "Abysmal Thoughts" by the Drums, but barely acknowledged it here. Let's see. Nope, can't figure out why. Genius can't either.

NEXT TIME: Away by Okkervil River

Don't Tell Me What I Can't Do, Part V: The Presidency

Welcome to "Don't Tell Me What I Can't Do," a new series here on PoYB. Please first read this blog post I wrote in 2009. There, I listed 22 subjects that I would NEVER write about on this website. Here in 2019, I say: don't fucking tell me what I can't do. For a total of twenty-two posts, I will be blogging about these subjects, in striking defiance of my 20-year-old naiveté.

TODAY'S "FORBIDDEN" SUBJECT: "Anything that could ruin my 2048 Presidential bid."

WHY IT WAS FORBIDDEN: The idea was that a lot of what I was, and still am, writing about on PoYB would automatically nullify any presidential ambitions. No one is going to take seriously some guy who once wrote about a cartoon dog who allegedly delivers pizza, let alone someone who speaks openly about his alcoholism. The fact that these types of posts were "forbidden" was the joke. I'll never stop writing about subjects that will keep me from becoming the U.S. President.

HOW I WILL WRITE ABOUT IT: I will literally list all the reasons that I will not win the Presidency in 2048.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This will never be me

Reasons I Would Not Win the Presidency If I Decided to Run in 2048

• A lot of what I've written is available on the internet, and a lot of it could probably be interpreted in a negative way. These days, everything that you've ever written is held against you. Don't get me wrong, this is a good thing! It holds people accountable for being shitty human beings. Think about Kevin Hart being punished (not being able to host the Oscars) for writing really shitty thoughts (homophobic "jokes"). In a hypothetical world in which Hart apologizes for thinking such shitty things (he didn't apologize, but assume that he did in this scenario), there would still be a segment of the population that would think less of him. When you run for a high office such as the presidency, your opponent can use the opinions you've previously expressed in writing against you (many times justifiably). I did not think that Hillary Clinton, as of 2016, believed that black people were "predators," but she at one time thought that, and even in a world in which she directly and sincerely apologized for these comments (she did apologize, but whether it was sincere or simply an apology made to defend herself politically is up to you to decide), there is still a segment of the population that holds that against her (e.g., my black coworkers had expressed their inability to support Clinton based on these comments alone). In 2048, what would the world find against me? What opinions that I expressed in 2006 would be used against me? Would some of my tweets age poorly? Would a very poorly expressed Xanga post about abortion, one that I don't even agree with currently, be dredged up from the depths of the dark web, and be used against me? Would Puke on Your Birthday be parsed through and used to magnify the flaws I was so willing to discuss about myself when I was a 20-something? Yes, yes, and yes, respectively.
  
• Beyond what I consciously chose to share about myself and the way I think, other people have shared things about me on the internet as well. I'm mostly talking about pictures. See, for example, when a picture was posted on Facebook of me, mostly naked, with only a red solo cup covering my penis, as I held an empty keg of beer over my head. The conservative base would have an insurmountable objection to seeing such a picture, and I would lose a lot of moderates as well. I wouldn't blame them. There's no explanation for such a picture's existence except for the fact that I was very drunk and very dumb. My ability to be a respectable leader would be rightfully questioned. (No, that picture is no longer available on Facebook, but c'mon, nothing ever disappears completely from the internet.)
  
• I am not great with conflict in general. I am a coward, and very often don't stand up for myself. I remember one time in college, the student newspaper office's printer was not working, so we were supposed to be printing rough drafts from the computer lab. The student worker had a problem with this; even though I was allowed to be printing, the student told me that I wasn't allowed to print, and he was kind of a dick about it. I didn't try to make my case, I didn't appeal to the rules, I didn't fight the dude, I just got scared and walked away. And this was about a stupid little issue about printer ink. Imagine being challenged on the national stage. I would freeze up. I would continue to be the coward that I am in times of conflict.
  
• I am not good at improvisational public speaking. Having to compete in a public debate (sober) would absolutely break me. Debates aren't the end-all, be-all of deciding who is voted president (see 2016's arrogant flop-sweat douchebag claiming ultimate victory), but they could easily sway an election, and my debate performance would not sway any voters in my favor, believe me.
  
• As evidenced by the previous two bullet points, I am too comfortable talking about my flaws, and too embarrassed to talk about my strengths. Humility, in my opinion, is a valuable trait as a human being, but it is detrimental when trying to win a political contest. I would need to be able to brag about myself, and try to dismiss any perceived flaws. For better or worse, that is just simply not how I operate. Self-deprecation is how I usually live my life. This turns voters away.
  
• I am too liberal/progressive, and too unwilling to compromise on those ideals. I'm currently reading a pretty cool book, The Righteous Mind, that speaks to this issue in terms of moral psychology, and I'm learning a lot. I'm reading it because I want to understand WHY conservatives cast their votes the way they do. The basic theory is that there are various moral planes that you can base your overall moral decisions on, and liberals and conservatives choose very different moral planes, which explains the disconnect we can feel. For example, liberals are mostly concerned about "care vs. harm" and "liberty vs. oppression" moral planes. Does this action cause harm, and is it equal to all parties? I believe in universal health care because it would help people and it equally helps people. However, conservatives operate on completely different moral planes. For example, "fairness vs. cheating," and "sanctity vs. degradation" are vastly more important to the thought processes of conservatives. Conservatives do not believe in universal health care, even though it would help people who need help, because they believe that morally, those who don't work as hard shouldn't deserve to have equal benefits (it wouldn't be fair), and those who live "degrading" lifestyles (homeless, drug-addicted) are inherently unworthy of such benefits (they are not sanctifying/clean). The Righteous Mind succeeds in convincing me that there ARE coherent reasons why liberals and conservatives operate so differently. However, just because I understand why conservatives believe what they do, it still doesn't mean I agree with them or empathize with how they feel. I truly believe that all human beings, regardless of your situation or behavior, deserve affordable access to health care, even though it may not seem fair. Fuck fairness, I say. Get everyone access to health care. I'll pay more taxes, I don't care. Let's do it, I'll say. And overall, THAT mindset, while I believe it to be the correct mindset, certainly would be a huge turn-off to voters who operate on different moral planes that I do. My argument for how I perceive morality is the same argument that would lose me hundreds of thousands of voters.
  
• As strong as I feel about my liberal morality, I also would be completely exposed to my hypocrisy when it comes to my morality in general. I said in the previous bullet point that I would gladly pay more taxes to achieve universal health care, but how often to I donate to charity? How often do I give change to Philly's homeless population? I claim to care about the "care vs. harm" moral plane, but there are a whole host of people in my life who could write a long list of examples from my life about how I did not live up to my own supposed standards in that regard. I was so disgusted with trump's pussy-grabbing tape and Kavanaugh's belligerent defense of his college behavior, and made my opinion known in this regard, but it would be pretty easy to find a handful of women to testify that I have acted just as deplorably in my life. It wouldn't matter that I have apologized and tried to make amends; to many people, I am a huge fucking hypocrite (and I wouldn't blame 'em for thinking that).
  
• I lack the necessary knowledge of how the world operates to be able to stand as a major player in that operation. Remember in 2016, when goober candidate Gary Johnson indicated that he had never heard of a major city in the Middle East, and how fucking stupid and unworthy of the presidency he seemed in that moment? That would be me, every day of the campaign.
  
• And what's worse, I don't have the motivation to learn. I barely have any interest in fully understanding international politics. I know it's important, but I just can't bring myself to do it. Even giving myself 31 years before a potential presidential campaign, I don't think I could responsibly use those three decades to educate myself. I lack the will to do it. Maybe this is the most glaring flaw that would prevent any political success for me in my life—I lack the motivation to improve. I am complacent. Job promotions have been perfunctory, not necessarily earned. I am completely devoid of any trace of stick-to-itiveness. This is the main reason I will never be the President of the United States—I can't even bring myself to try.

Illinois x Avalanche

In 2005, Sufjan Stevens released his second and final "state" album, Illinois. It was a stunning achievement, absolutely bursting with ideas. Sufjan was so prolific at the time that he had enough leftover material for entire second album of Illinois-themed songs, the outtakes album The Avalanche. And the crazy part is that the outtakes album is almost as good as the original LP. This begs the question, could Illinois have been improved at all with a different track selection and sequencing? Illinois is practically perfect, but could it have been more perfect? Let's find out.

The problem with fucking with an album like Illinois is that the songs work so well in the order that they are currently in, that even throwaway tracks become essential. Listening to "A Short Reprise for Mary Todd..." is a waste of 47 seconds if it comes up on shuffle, but on Illinois, it becomes crucial to the narrative, as well as a necessary cool-down after "Jacksonville."

So I guess the question is, would Illinois have worked better as a hit machine of 20 folk bangers, as opposed to the cohesive story that it exists as currently? Probably not. It would have lost some of its charm. But imagine that Sufjan decided to combine both albums, and pare away the inessential, what would it look like?

We should note now that the absolute best song from either album is on The Avalanche. "The Mistress Witch from McClure (or the Mind That Knows Itself)" is an absurdly beautiful song (and, if Carrie & Lowell is to be believed, it's possibly autobiographical as well). There's no way it could've harmed Illinois had it been included there.

Other songs that could probably fit in on Illinois: "The Avalanche," which was actually included as a bonus track on some pressings of Illinois originally; "Adlai Stevenson," a regal piece of horn-led pop; "Carlyle Lake," a weird, twisty song that finds Sufjan in marching band mode, which is one of my favorite Sufjan modes; "No Man's Land," a fun ditty that bridges the gap between the sounds of Sufjan's State albums and Sufjan's Christmas albums.

A note: "Dear Mr. Supercomputer" is a great song, but I don't think it's twitchy aggressiveness would fit in all that well on Illinois. Sufjan got this one right originally.

So what on Illinois can be deleted? Of the 22 tracks, I count eight that are "disposable," meaning that they add theatrics to the album but ultimately fail as songs in their own right. We can get rid of "The Black Hawk War..." because it builds tension right after "Concerning the UFO" just did exactly that. "Riffs and Variations..." can go too, since it seems like a placeholder before the rolling conclusion of "Out of Egypt..." The only one I'll keep in is the six-second "One Last 'Woo-Hoo!' for the Pullman!!" because I think it's hilarious that there is a six-second song consisting solely of Sufjan saying "Woo-Hoo!"

Let's banish "The Seer's Tower" as well. It's not bad, but it's super slow, and it really brings the energy down on an album that I wish barreled toward its conclusion more forcefully. But, I mean, that's pretty much it. The remaining 14 tracks are all pretty unimpeachable.

Here's what my version of Illinois would've looked like:

Illinois
Sufjan Stevens
arr. by Joe K***
2005-B

1. “Concerning the UFO Sighting near Highland, Illinois”
2. “Come On! Feel the Illinoise! (Part I: The World's Columbian Exposition – Part II: Carl Sandburg Visits Me in a Dream)”
3. "Adlai Stevenson"
4. "They Are Night Zombies!! They Are Neighbors!! They Have Come Back from the Dead!! Ahhhh!"
5. “Jacksonville”
6. “Decatur, or, Round of Applause for Your Stepmother!
7. "One Last 'Whoo-Hoo!' for the Pullman!!"
8. "The Perpetual Self, or What Would Saul Alinsky Do?"
9. “John Wayne Gacy, Jr.”
10. "Carlyle Lake"
11. "Casimir Pulaski Day"
12. "The Man of Metropolis Steals Our Hearts"
13. "No Man's Land"
14. "Prairie Fire That Wanders About" 
15. "The Avalanche"
16. "The Predatory Wasp of the Palisades Is Out to Get Us!"
17. "The Tallest Man, the Broadest Shoulders" (Part I: The Great Frontier – Part II: Come to Me Only with Playthings Now)”
18. "The Mistress Witch from McClure (or The Mind That Knows Itself)"
19. “Chicago"
20. "Out of Egypt, into the Great Laugh of Mankind, and I Shake the Dirt from My Sandals as I Run"

So, is this a better album than Illinois? Of course not! You can't really fix what isn't broken, and Illinois is full of unbroken perfection. Maybe we should just trust that Sufjan Stevens knew what he was doing here. Sorry to have wasted your time.

Song of the Week: "Chance"

"Chance"

Steve Gunn

on The Unseen in Between

2019

We are finally in the swing of things here in the new year, with new music reaching our ears for the first time in weeks. This will be the first time PoYB's Song of the Week column will feature a "new" song, instead of the older stuff I was exploring while the music industry took a break over the holidays.

Friday, January 18th was the first big record release day of the year, and it was jam-packed with tasty shit. Weirdly, though, most of the records that I dug into had a layer of melancholy to them. Sharon Van Etten's Remind Me Tomorrow swirls with synths and haunting vocals. The Twilight Sad's It Won/t Be like This All the Time takes their sad Scottish assaults and brings them up a notch or two in intensity. Pedro the Lion reflects on the crusty deserts of their Arizona youth with Phoenix.

And Steve Gunn, well, he does what he always does. His new album, The Unseen in Between, is chock full of languid guitar riffs underneath chill stoner vocals and vibes. It's summer sunset music, perfect for a frigid Philly winter. "Chance," what I would probably call the highlight of the album, raises the stakes a little bit, an outlier of heat on an album of cool.

There's an impossibly relaxed guitar hook here—there always is—but there's also a wall of more urgent guitars set up behind the hook, and that gives the song a tension that you don't always find in Gunn's music. It's like that video he has for his 2014 song "Wildwood," where he's walking the cold, abandoned wintertime boardwalk in Wildwood, NJ. The skies are clear in that video. "Chance" is what happens when the clouds threaten to overcome the stark brightness of your favorite vacation spot.

That's what I hear, anyway. It's possible that you'll hear something different. Maybe you'll hear the lyrics "Take what is needed" and think that Gunn is making a statement about his own music, how he tries to make it as simple as possible, and the guitar fuzz in this very song goes against that truism and therefore makes it difficult to listen to. Maybe you'll hear the guitar tones as more of a spaced-out sound then a foreboding one, and you'll just want to drift off on a cloud instead of preparing for rain.

Whatever the case may be, I think we can all agree that it's great to have new music back on our earbuds, and that Steve Gunn has started the year off with impeccable style.

PoYB from the Vault: Public Diary, Part I

In late 2008 and early 2009, I attempted to keep a diary, one that would be left public and be purposefully straight and boring. I wanted to document my life in real time. The idea was stupid and self-indulgent, and I gave up after less than two months.

But in an effort to gather everything I've ever written and pasting it all on Puke on Your Birthday, I now present you with the December 2008 diary entries, verbatim (besides minor grammatical and formatting corrections).

Anything that needs to be further explained will be footnoted, which will be located at the very end of this post. (Sorry that you'll have to keep jumping down and back up while reading this post. I tried to learn the HTML for footnotes, but it was too complicated. Maybe try opening this blog post on two different tabs, one for the body, and one for the footnotes? That's what I'd do).

And I know I said last year that I was done with the overly-nostalgic blog posts, but the obsessive completist in me won out. I want everything I've written to be here, for better or worse. I promise, I will post something else at 6 AM tomorrow to hopefully push this blog post out of the way for those of you who are rolling your eyes and those of you who are gagging at the thought.

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December 23, 2008

Winter break started out extremely slow, but thankfully, it's picked up lately. In the past three days alone there's been my party¹, a bar night downtown², and an excursion to New Jersey³, all great nights in their own special way. Tonight was no different.

First of all, I had work until 7:30. There's not much you can say about the Laf⁴ anymore except that I kick ass at being a waiter, and it's so easy and so fucking fun working there.

Then around 9:15, I picked up B**⁵ (would've been 9 PM sharp, but I got caught up watching Degrassi⁶), and we drove to Kev's soccer game. A ton of people showed up in support of our small-stomach'd⁷ brother. Let's see... Mike, Ed, Andrew, Brianna, Cindy, Keelan, Marielle, and a bunch of Cheltenham alumni joined B** and I as we obnoxious cheered every time Kev stepped on the field. We didn't pregame⁸, for better or worse. Though they lost, they put up a good effort.

We all went to Michael's Diner⁹ afterwards. I tried to order something besides the grilled cheese, but couldn't bring myself to do so. Surprisingly, Kev finished his meal¹⁰. We had a grand ol' time, just talking and laughing and spending time together.

It was with a heavy heart that we all bid farewell for the rest of the holiday week, but it is with a heart of joy that we all got together for a nice, chill, pleasant wintery night.

Things to think about:

• 25 days until we move back to school
• I should really start memorizing my lines¹¹
• Amazon.com better not go back on their word¹²
• Plan out winter break events soon, like the day keg and movie night¹³

Goodnight, humble reader.

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December 24, 2008

A good day, to say the least. To say the most: alcohol. Yeah, I got pretty fucked up. But let's start at the beginning. I woke up around noon, tried to drive to Wyndmoor¹⁴ but failed for one reason or another. Then I got naked and laid in bed for hours. We were to leave for mass at 3:30 sharp, so I got a shower at 3:15 and was ready in time.

My mom was pretty diligent about leaving at 3:30, and she was pretty smart in this respect, because we got the LAST seats for the 4 o'clock Mass¹⁵. Those who showed up after the K***s: suckaaaas! Good job Mom.

Afterwards, we went to my aunt and uncle's house. At Uncle Jim's we all got pretty mangled¹⁶. No different from any other family party, really. My sisters and I all drank, got hammered, and came home and passed out. We had some fun joking around with our parents when we got back.

So it's Christmas Day, and I'll be hungover, and we'll wake up early, and I'll open presents hungover, and all will be okay. 'Tis the season!!!

G'night¹⁷, humble reader.

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December 25, 2008

Oh my, what a wonderful Christmas! This, despite the fact that I spent most of it at the Laf. Well, despite it or because of it? Who knows.

All I know is that it was a wonderful day. We K***¹⁸ kids awoke around nine o'clock¹⁹, promptly proceeded to destroy all wrapping paper known to man, and reveled in our glorious gifts. The stand-out was Rock Band—but more on that later. We also gave gifts to each other and to our swell parents. I got Dad some CDs²⁰ (but Amazon fucked up, those bastards), and Mom something from Bath & Body Works, and a book²¹. I think they'll enjoy it. Fun stuff!

I was fucking hungover as hell though after breakfast, and unfortunately I had to be in work by eleven. It sucked because I didn't want to throw up, but my stomach was so goddamn upset that I had no choice but to just let it all out²². It was gross, but strangely satisfying. Satisfying, too, was the fat $20 tip²³ I got for waiting on a simple table. It was glorious.

Work was the same. I was really hyped up all day, and generally fucked around even more than usual. Got away with everything, as usual. God, have I ever told you how much I love that place?

Got home around 7:30, and proceeded to play some Rock Band with the whole family. Christ, who knew playing video games with Mom and Dad could be so fun? I have a feeling Rock Band is going to be one of those things I'll be playing a lot this winter break.

Now I'm uploading all my CDs onto my iPod. Looks like a good haul²⁴.

Goodnight, humble reader.

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December 26-28, 2008

It's been a good few days.

Friday... what the hell did I do Friday? It feels like years ago. I know I was drunk. Oh! Well, first I went to my "cousin's" house²⁵, ya know, one of those cousins that isn't actually one of my cousins by blood, just by nature of his/her relationship. So I went there, kinda got bored, decided to drink. Ended up getting hammered, but that's okay. I went over Brianna's afterwards, watched Baby Mama, which ended up being pretty funny. I sobered up quite nicely²⁶, came home, passed out. All in a day's work.

Sobering up was probably a grand idea that night, because Saturday morning I had my first ever "early" shift at the Laf²⁷. That means I had to be there at 7:30, and work by myself for a few hours. I'll tell ya, it's creepy being the only one in that dining room for the whole morning. And what an easy day! I was there until 4 o'clock, but I was done all my work by 10:30. I just fucking sat around for five hours. It was glorious.

That night I played Rock Band with the fam. There are few things as satisfying as watching my mother attempt to sing along to a Beastie Boys song. I went to Rig's²⁸ for a bit, got drunk, came home.

Today wasn't all that exciting. I went to work—good times—and came home. Again, I played Rock Band. The Jedis²⁹ came over, and we watched Green Street Hooligans. Great movie³⁰. They all left and now I'm here watching Castaway with my pops.

Goodnight, humble reader.

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December 29, 2008

I feel like my days are so fucking short now that I am sleeping in until 1 PM every day. Late nights don't count, so what does that leave me? Work, and whatever I do in the evening. Luckily my days have been fun regardless of their brevity.

After work today I met up with a friend³¹ I hadn't seen in a while. It's always nice rekindling friendships, catching up, exchanging stories, etc. We just went to IHOP and stayed until they closed. Good times.

Tonight I'm going to continue reading a fascinating book I received from Santa Claus by Chuck Klosterman. It's called Killing Yourself to Live³². I might want to get to bed at a decent hour, though, since I might be going to a movie at noon tomorrow... with a five-liter bag of wine³³. It's good to still be young.

Goodnight, humble reader.

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December 30, 2008

I felt it was necessary to try to wake up at a decent hour today. Sleeping in until one o'clock every goddamn day is not doing my body or my life any good. So, I set my alarm for eleven. Luckily for me, this allowed me to be awake to catch a call from the Laf at 11:15, seeing if I could come in for the lunch shift. I happily obliged, and rode my bike³⁴ with a flat tire in the freezing December wind. Worth it though—a good day at the Laf.

Got out of work, went to Kev's soccer game³⁵. We finally saw him win a game. I guess all he was waiting for was to play an all-girl team. Congrats, Kev, on facing an all-girl team and crushing them³⁶. You should really be proud.

Afterwards we just chilled at Wawa. I got Shepherd's Pie. Fun! We were all bored at 10 fucking o'clock, and everyone started to peter out, so Kev, Andrew, and I decided to go to my house and watch The Godfather. Great movie³⁷! I had never seen it before. But fuck, was it long. I'm pretty worn out, and I'm about to go to bed.

Goodnight, humble reader.

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December 31, 2008

New Year's Eve! Hammered! I sat around playing Rock Band, Harry showed up, we played more Rock Band, and got hammered. We got fucking mangled. We all went to Brianna's³⁸. everyone. People passed out early, people we still awake, everyone was drunk as fuck. I left and came back here and now I'm mangled as fuck, wondering if I'll have work tomorrow despite the fact that there's no power at the Laf³⁹. I love all my friends who I was with. I really fucking life⁴⁰ the gal I texted⁴¹. I am not following my New Year's Resolution⁴²!

G'night, humble reader.

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FOOTNOTES

1. I was referring to a keg party that I hosted while my parents were out for the night. This was the infamous K*** Sibling Double Keg. I was at work around 7 o’clock, and thought, "hey, I should warn Jenny that I'm having people over tonight," and texted her. She texted back, "I am having a keg too, my friends are already here." It was a little weird because my half of the party was "formal attire required," which clashed badly with the decidedly non-formal NEasty attire from our other guests.

2. Based on old tweets, I believe this was the night that me, Dave, and Joe D. went to a bar that's now closed, I think it was called Franklin's. Our coworker Matt worked behind the bar as a nineteen-year-old, and so he let his other similarly aged friends in on off-nights. I try to use the word "epic" sparingly, but it’s unavoidable here—it was an epic night.

3. I probably wanted to start this journal based on the sole fact that this winter break had been so crazy fun already, because this is yet another crazy night that had apparently just happened. A few of us (Dave, Mandy, Mary) drove to our friend John’s mansion in NJ, and shit got weird. This was the "Worlds Colliding" night. I'll do everyone a favor and not describe what that means.

4. I’ve written plenty about my first and favorite job, The Lafayette Redeemer Retirement Home. Please see: A, B, C

5. Previous and possibly future PoYB correspondent, please see the "Mandy" tab on the right-hand sidebar for some of her writing.

6. A Canadian soap opera that I was obsessed with back in the day. Please see previous blog posts: A, B

7. Kev has a small stomach

8. It’s always weird to think about drinking as the taboo subject it still was back in 2008. What’s weirder, that we felt the need to drink before an indoor soccer game, or the fact that it would’ve been REALLY EXCITING if we drank a bit before an indoor soccer game?

9. Michael’s Family Restaurant, located on Arcadia’s campus in Glenside. I don’t know how this came to be our late-night hang spot. Was it seriously the only place for past-midnight food? Did the Quaker Diner not stay open that late at the time?

10. See footnote #7.

11. I was cast as a stoner in La Salle’s production in Recent Tragic Events. I’ll talk more about the play in subsequent diary entries. I also tried to advertise it here on PoYB.

12. 2008 would be the last year I would dare try to order Christmas presents from Amazon so late in December. As prevalent as online shopping has become here in 2019, I still don’t trust it.

13. I guess neither of these ideas ended up coming to fruition that winter, based on subsequent diary entries. But some things never change, because two weeks ago I tapped a keg at 10 AM for a book club meeting.

14. Wyndmoor, PA is the location of my high school, La Salle College High School. I have no fucking clue why I would’ve been going there during winter break in college, or with whom, nor do I remember why I chose NOT to go.

15. Despite my faux-bragging about getting a seat, me and my pops ended up giving up the seats anyway. If I recall correctly, my dad was obsessed with the idea of being a "man" and giving the seats to, preferably, any frail old lady that wandered down the aisle looking for somewhere to sit. Not really interested in psychoanalyzing my dad in the footnote of a 2008 diary entry, but I have to think this had something to do with wanting to appear pious while in Church, a sense of morality that had been literally beat into him, growing up in Catholic school.

16. Again, I was still young, and even family drinking was relatively new to me at the time. I have a specific memory from this night of my cousin saying "Dude, you gotta keep it down! I think even Grandpop hears you!" The joke being that Grandpop was almost deaf. The other joke being how drunk I felt the need to get at a family party...

17. I tried to establish a pattern in these diary entries that when I signed off with "Goodnight," that meant I was typing sober, and when I signed off with “G’night,” that meant I was typing while inebriated. There were surprisingly few drunk entries here, compared to how often I was getting drunk during that time in my life.

18. I am still censoring my last name here, even though y’all probably know what it is. I would just prefer for PoYB to never come up on google when you type my full name. Also, maybe the reasonable doubt will hold up in court, when I am inevitably indicted for charges related to my blogging.

19. This is a far cry from the 7 o’clock call time of the Christmases of our youth. My parents weren’t home-videoing anymore by the end of 2008, but based on videos I’ve seen from like 2006, all three of us probably looked too cool for school that morning. Also, hungover.

20. If I recall correctly, the albums were Santigold’s Santogold, Levon Helm’s Dirt Farmer, and Old Crow Medicine Show’s Tennessee Pusher. Even besides the fact that the physical CDs hadn’t been delivered yet (see footnote #12), the gifts went over like a lead balloon. It’s been firmly established by now that my dad doesn’t like albums, he only likes singles and greatest hits. I know that now. I didn’t know it yet in 2008.

21. No idea. Probably a Grisham novel.

22. I’ve never had a job I didn’t throw up at. Weirdly, I don’t remember doing it too often at the Laf. I think that had more to do with the fact that I was younger and could handle my hangovers better then than I can now.

23. From good ol’ Big Joe, eulogized here on the blog.

24. The following CDs were received as gifts that year. I will list them and also give them a rating out of ten, my ratings based on how I feel in 2019.

• The Dodos’ Visiter — 3/10
• Panda Bear’s Person Pitch — 2/10
• Radiohead’s Hail to the Thief — 7/10
• Wilco’s Summerteeth — 8/10
• Yo La Tengo’s Painful — 1/10
• Tapes ‘n’ Tapes’ The Loon — 9/10
• Stars’ Set Yourself on Fire — 8/10

25. Sarah R., one of my oldest and favorite family friends. I only know it was her house I’m referring to here, and not Harry’s or Andrew’s, because of old tweets. I was a prolific drunk tweeter back in ’08.

26. I find it really, really hard to be believe that there were ANY sober nights at Brianna’s house, but here we are, proof of it.

27. Dave used to work this shift all the time back in those days. I remember him drunkenly slamming doors in my freshman year dorm room after he had passed out on the bathroom floor and had overslept the call time.

28. We used to say that we were “playing poker” at Andrew’s house, which was really a flimsy cover for killing a case of Lionshead. I don’t remember anything about this particular night, and it was kind of lazy of 2008 Joe to not elaborate.

29. An eye roll-inducing early nickname for the group of my closest male friends at the time. The origins of the nickname are unclear.  Possibly it had to do with the idea of sitting around the figurative “Jedi round table” and drinking beers. Considered “Jedis” at the time: Mike, Kev, Ed, Jim, Kyle, Andrew, Dave, Harry, Nick, possibly others? In any case, the nickname is historical. I usually refer to that crew now as “The Usual Crowd.” You can find many stories of our exploits if you click on the “Hometown” tab at the top of this page.

30. 2019 Joe begs to differ.

31. I don’t know whom I am referring to here, and I don’t feel like going through old Facebook messages to find out. If I had to guess, I’d say it was either Veronica or Steph, two old friends from high school whom these days I’m lucky to see once a year, if that. I wish it were more often, honestly.

32. Still one of my favorite music books, it covers Klosterman’s journey across America, visiting different landmarks of famous rock ‘n’ roll deaths.

33. This didn’t happen, and seeing as there are no movie theaters in walking distance from Rockledge, I don’t see how it could’ve ever happened.

34. My dad’s bike. I guess riding that to work was something that I used to do during that brief period in my life? I kind of forgot about that.

35. I guess we used to go to a lot more of Kev’s game than I remembered too. No offense to Kev, but this is an activity that could’ve only happened regularly in the pre-bar years.

36. This is a true story, P.S.

37. I was lying at the time, fronting to seem cool. I didn’t understand the movie at all the first time I saw it. Pam and I rewatched it ten years later, and I finally understood it. Didn’t make it a “great” movie, but I still mostly enjoyed it.

38. Kind of surprising that this was the only New Year’s Eve we spent at Brianna’s house. We got drunk there seemingly every other weekend of the year, so why not NYE? Anyways, pictures from this night show that the whole fucking crew was there, and we had a bangin’ time. Clearly, based on how sloppily drunk this writing is.

39. I don’t remember this happening. Clearly the electricity was functional by 11 o’clock the next day. Also, imagine being afraid that I wouldn’t be able to wake up for a shift at ELEVEN O’CLOCK?! Something only a fucking 20-year-old could be anxious about (he says, typing at the desk he had to wake up at 5:30 AM to get to on time).

40. A typo for “like,” not “love,” please be assured.

41. I don’t think I got a text back. C’mon Joe, the signs were there!

42. According to my list of New Year’s resolutions for 2009 (listed here), one of them was “I have to stop letting girls affect me as much as they do,” which I guess is the one I’m referring to when I mention a violation. Don’t worry, it was a dumb resolution.

The Albums That Matter: Automatic for the People

Joe runs through every album on his iPod, mostly in alphabetical order, and offers some brief thoughts. Check out previous columns HERE.

Automatic for the People

R.E.M.

1992

This is an ode to the deep cuts. This is a celebration of all the songs that don't feel the need to be in the spotlight, on commercial radio, or on fancy car ads on the television. This is a show of appreciation for the songs that when played in concert, all the fans put their lighters away, and not many people sing along, and the band has to thank the surface level fans for indulging them as they play a song the audience may not know because they've only listened to a Greatest Hits compilation. Deep cuts, this one is for you. I recognize you. I hear you. I love you.

Automatic for the People, one of R.E.M.'s most celebrated albums, features on it SIX singles. I was three years old when the album was released, and R.E.M. was relatively popular at the start of my life, and so those six singles have always existed to me, and have been a part of my musical experience. I don't remember the first time I ever heard "Man on the Moon," but if you asked a nine-year-old Joe to sing along, he could've without a second thought about it.

The downfall of the national exposure of popular singles is that, when you go back and try to explore the LPs from which they originated, those albums may seem like a collection of singles, plus some other filler. It happens. I will probably never hold Let It Bleed up as the great Stones album that it probably is, because I know "Gimme Shelter" and I know "You Can't Always Get What You Want" and everything in between just can't reach those heights.

So again, let's look to those deep cuts on albums with this potential problem, and let's celebrate when the deep cuts are just as great. Well, okay, the singles on Automatic are really fucking good, and maybe the non-singles don't quite reach that level. But it's really close! That's more than a lot of other albums with world-conquering singles can say!

"Try Not to Breathe" is the first deep cut we come across, and it sets the tone for this "very mid-tempo, pretty fucking weird" album. It's a song that never really takes off, instead betraying a sadness and depression that not even the ensuing goofy single "The Sidewinder Sleeps Tonite" can wash away. "Sweetness Follows" is a funereal mix of downcast acoustic guitar and sweeping, spacey electric guitar. Again, it doesn't take off, but is allowed to simply simmer in its darkness.

"Monty Got a Raw Deal" at least brings some drums to the affair, but is probably just as sad as the other songs mentioned, as it details the death and life of '50s celebrity Montgomery Clift, who died in a car accident. "Star Me Kitten" is a slow, finger-snapping dirge about having nothing to lose, so we might as well fuck while we have the chance. It's not a particularly fun song, all things considered, but it does what it sets out to do.

"Ignoreland," unlike the other depressing deep cuts, is an angry anthem against the powers that be. Specifically, Stipe et al are rallying against the "brooding duplicitous, wicked and able, media ready" conservative blowhards of his time. Honestly, R.E.M. should just go ahead and finally release this song as a single here in 2019. It would probably chart. The lyric "No solution... but I feel better having screamed. Don't you?" speaks to me dearly at this time. Sometimes I feel like screaming is all we can do at this point.

These deep cuts are beautifully somber and writhing and angry and melancholic, and they not only are achievements in their own right, but also they completely change the context of the album. I would've assumed based on "Man on the Moon" and "Sidewinder" that Automatic for the People was a rock 'n' roll romper, but when you pile on the wistful, obsessed-with-death non-singles on top of other singles like "Nightswimming," you realize that those two happy tracks are the only two happy tracks.

Automatic for the People, if you give enough of a shit to actually listen to the whole thing, is a dazzlingly depressing album, one that sticks with you. Don't let the radio fool you. Deep cuts are worth something. Check them out.

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If this album sounds interesting, try this song: "Ignoreland"

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Stray Observations

• The singles were downplayed in the column proper by design, but, um, you probably shouldn't ignore them either. I'll mention "The Sidewinder Sleeps Tonite" as many times as I have to until you are familiar with it. That uncontrollable giggle right before third chorus is so damn charming.
• I learned from Wikipedia that John Paul Jones did the string arrangements for three songs on Automatic. This took me down the rabbit hole of Jones' music credits. Did you know he produced a Butthole Surfers album? Did you know that there is a band called "Dread Zeppelin" that has an album called No Quarter Pounder?!
• Also per Wikipedia, Automatic for the People reached #2 on the Billboard Top Albums list in 1992. It was blocked by Garth Brooks' The Chase. I don't think I need to elaborate my feelings about this, do I?
• ALBUM COVER: It's a picture of a star ornament that adorned a motel sign in Miami, where the band recorded most of this album. The album was originally going to be called Star, and I guess they kept the album art even when the name changed.
• Also, the title "Automatic for the People" was taken from the motto of a deli in the band's hometown of Athens, GA. Damn, I really should've done more rock 'n' roll sightseeing when me and Pam were down there last October.
• There is a dumb rumor that Kurt Cobain was listening to this album when he died, specifically "Everybody Hurts." The rumor is as false as it is disrespectful to Cobain; "Everybody Hurts" is a trite, maudlin song that hasn't aged well at all.
• If you're like me and were confused about "Man on the Moon," let's set the record straight. The R.E.M. song about Andy Kaufman came first. The Kaufman biopic Man on the Moon was released in 1999, and was named after this song (the song also featured prominently in the soundtrack). As a sidenote, if you haven't seen the making-of documentary Jim & Andy, do yourself a favor and check it out. It doubles down on the meta lunacy of the original movie in very satisfying ways.
• It would be responsible to note here that I am not well versed in the R.E.M. discography, so I can't speak to how Automatic fits into the band's overall aesthetic. Maybe by the time TATM reaches Document, the only other R.E.M. I currently own, I'll have more experience with these '90s greats. (I suppose it's possible you'll hear from me about Collapse into Now, their 2011 effort, but I don't suspect their most recent album will be a priority for me at this time.)

NEXT TIME: "Awaken, My Love!" by Childish Gambino (I thought long and hard about whether I should include Sufjan Stevens' The Avalanche in this column, but ultimately decided against it. As great as it is, it is still technically an outtakes collection, and not a proper LP. I'll probably write a little something up for The Avalanche next week anyway, because it deserves the attention.)

Fast Food: A Supersized Blog Post

Top Five Fast Food Restaurants Based on Taste of Food

5. Wendy's
4. Chic-fil-A
3. Checkers
2. Taco Bell
1. Raising Cane's

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Top Five Fast Food Restaurants Based on Smell of the Restaurant As You Pass By

5. Church's Chicken
4. Subway
3. Auntie Anne's
2. Burger King
1. Popeyes

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Why I Refuse to Patronize the Following Port Richmond Establishments

Taco Bell

I asked for exactly two "Hot" flavored sauce packets, because I had two burritos, and I like the hot sauce. I found out when I looked in my bag that they gave me four mild packets instead, as if doubling the amount of mild sauce somehow made it hotter? That's not how sauce math works, yo.

Wendy's

If you give me a Jr. Cheeseburger when I had paid the extra $.30 for a Jr. BACON Cheeseburger, then I will hate you for life.

Pizza Hut

I used to fucking love Pizza Hut with all my heart, but I'm tired of getting cardboard pizza delivered an hour late. There are only so many times the same delivery guy can make up some bullshit about "they wanted this pizza to get out later but I insisted that I leave right now so it's delivered hot" and the pizza isn't even hot?!

The final straw happened only two weeks ago. Me and Pam split a pie, which was 45 minutes late even though we ordered hours in advance. It was kind of shitty, not piping hot, kind of stale, but we still ate it. I was up the entire night, throwing that pizza up into the toilet. Hot liquid spewing out of both ends, in fact. I was legitimately sick to my stomach for almost the entirety of the week. Even now, just thinking about Pizza Hut, even typing these words, makes my stomach crawl. I will never eat Pizza Hut again for the rest of my life.

Checkers

They aren't open at 9 AM, the only time I ever want Checkers, so fuck 'em.

McDonald's

I have to wait 20 minutes for a chicken sandwich? When I can see all the workers just fucking around in the back?

Chic-Fil-A

Too bible-y.

Sonic

Their commercials are painful.

Domino's

I was drunk on a Friday night. It was in fact the final night of my 20s (I spent it getting moderately drunk, laying supine on the couch, eating Domino's, my life is CRAZY). I ordered hours in advance, because I knew they would be busy. They were still 45 minutes late. On top of that, I had paid an extra $.75 for garlic dip, and I found out as the deliverer drove away that no garlic sauce was to be found.

I called immediately, and they said they would be "right out" with it. Knowing that this was unlikely, I ate my pizza, and got drunker. About two hours later, I still didn't have my garlic sauce. It was a matter of pride by this point. I called again. I got angry. I asked that someone deliver the dip immediately. Another hour, no one showed up. I called again. They put me on hold for 20 minutes. I hung up. I called again, and yelled for a manager. A (very apologetic) manager offered to get the dip out to me right away. I told him that that would be pointless, since I had finished the pizza four hours prior. I told him that I wanted someone to give me a dollar bill to make up for it. 

So someone from Domino's drove out and put $1 in my mailbox. I sound like an asshole in this story, but if I'm going to pay extra for services, I expect those services, ya feel me? Never going to Domino's again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A Very Late, Lukewarm Take on trump's Fast Food Football Fiasco

This take is almost as lukewarm as a Filet-o-Fish that's been sitting on a silver platter for more than five minutes, but I think the whole thing was not that big of a deal. In case you don't watch cable TV and have deleted Twitter from your phone, trump welcomed the college football champions from Clemson to the White House, as is tradition. Because of the gov't shutdown, trump I guess had to organize the whole thing himself(?), and since he is the homeless man's idea of a rich man, he opted to buy various fast food sandwiches for the players who attended. He bragged about this on Twitter, as he is wont to do.

I don't really think there's anyone to attack here. You can't really blame the players for attending the publicity stunt, because it's a publicity stunt that has happened for decades, and unlike professional players, college players are beholden to their elders. They are completely owned by their college. They do as they're told. If they were told to go to the White House, then I don't expect them to jeopardize their future by taking a stand. After graduation, the impetus is on them, but for now, they are just kids.

I can't even really blame trump for the act of buying the fast food. Could he have bought more, uhh, high-end food? If he is anywhere close to the billionaire status he continuously claims, then yeah, he could've. But fuck it, man, I personally don't mind fast food, and I don't think I would be offended if anyone bought it for me, president or no.

Did he have to lie about it, saying that he bought over 1000 burgers for for team? No. It was a stupid thing to lie about, and it greatly shows how effortlessly trump can lie to the American public. But honestly, at this point, I'm dangerously used to trump's lies, and I tend to just brush aside the innocuous ones. And his zombie, dick-sucking supporters don't give a fuck what he says, so really, what does this lie mean? How does it affect anyone? I'm not defending the lie, I'm saying that there are many more egregious lies to get upset about. The president issues more lies to the public in a week than he issues "hamberders" to hungry college men. Take your pick, but this isn't the one to pick.

At the end of the day, I'm just sad that the American public (Puke on Your Birthday included, I guess!) decided to focus on this stupid, pointless "controversy." To obsess over what trump feeds to a bunch of white kids is a silly endeavor. We have a Russian-influenced terrorist slash fraudulent criminal in the White House. Let's focus on what matters.

Of course, none of this matters anymore, since now the country is obsessed over a very punchable-faced, smirking private school douchebag, the harmless vet that he smirked at, and the scary black men (©Fox News Media) who yelled at these "poor, harmless" smirking shitbags. I thought about writing about that, but the whole thing made me even more depressed than the Quarter Pounder debacle, so I decided to write about fast food instead. Goodbye, cruel world.

Fuck Clemson, fuck trump, fuck college football, fast food forever

Joe and Willow Critically Review Children's Literature

Port Richmond's Siskel and Ebert finally dived into a big pile of baby books. Here is their critical take on the child literature explored so far.

I'm Going to Give You a Bear Hug by Caroline Cooney

Joe's Take: "Cooney displays a rhyming prowess in this delightful romp through the animal kingdom. As the pages turn, various creatures, both mammal and lower castes (reptile, insect) offer to caress the reader in question, and Cooney takes great care in both respecting the need for consent of such embraces, and also presenting a fantastical fiction that such real, grounded beasts could offer a hug in the first place. My only apprehension is that our young readers could learn to be too trusting of these creatures that would offer a real danger, not a hug, in the real world, setting unrealistic expectations of how animal relations typically develop."

Willow's Take: "This book tastes like shit."

Little Monkey: A Hide-and-Seek Book with a Felt Friend, by Roger Priddy

Joe's Take: "Less a book of words and more a collection of colorful, detailed paintings, Little Monkey teaches developing brains to point and grunt and not much else. Fabulinus, the Roman god who teaches children to speak, should start posting his resumé elsewhere. There's even a toy monkey attached to a string, tied to the spine of this book, so if your child is like mine and has a real knack for consumerism, then let her figuratively and literally chew on this one. Preposterous. Two stars."

Willow's Take: "[chews on felt monkey]"

Every Little Thing by Cedella Marley

Joe's Take: "The overwhelming majority of the public seems to be content with the desecration of Bob Marley's grave for the sake of making a baby smile. I do not count myself a member of this group. At its core, please realize that the whole endeavor smells of greed and irreverence. Every Little Thing is wonderfully illustrated, sure, with plenty of tiny nods toward Marley's life and legacy that adults and children can alike appreciate. The words, however, are, of course, copied wholesale from "Three Little Birds," a mid-tier Legend track, and just try to not sing the tune as you read to the little one. Cedella Marley has found another way to squeeze nickels and dimes out of her inheritance of her father's name."

Willow's Take: "gah gah gah gah GAH GAH GAH"

Good Night Philadelphia by Adam Gamble and Cooper Kelly

Joe's Take: "It's one thing to create an homage to one of baby literature's most acclaimed and distinguished novels. It's another thing entirely to copy the narrative of the novel and completely miss the beauty of the original. Good Night Moon lived in that sweet spot between simplicity and detail; Good Night Philadelphia completely forgets the former, and goes off in wild tangents about the fucking Independence Seaport Museum. One minute you're wishing a good night to a red balloon, the next you are wishing a good night to each dinosaur bone at the Academy of Natural Sciences. There's a whiplash that completely misinterprets the spirit of this fine, working-class city. For shame."

Willow's Take: "Please let me chew on this page."

Look at Me!, a Disney Baby Book by Marcy Kelman

Joe's Take: "Disney's ode to crass narcissism strikes fear in my heart, that the little one would become obsessed with her own image. B-list Disney animals such as Dumbo and Daisy Duck direct the child to stare into the mirror on each page, stare at themselves, be consumed by their own images, listen to your Disney overlords (they start you young). "Look at me!" is not something that I am comfortable with hearing from my child's generation, and I fear that this book will lead her down a dark path. Who needs Black Mirror when you can simply instruct your infant to stare into the gaping maw of a Disney mirror embedded in literature?"

Willow's Take: "[snot bubble emerges from nose]"