Record Club Alumni Association — Minutes from Meeting #07: Gal Costa, Willie Nelson, the Rolling Stones

(Deeper Dive)

Gal Costa

Gal Costa — RC Week 167 — 3 pukes out of 5

Gal

1969 (exact date unknown)

Holy shit, this is nuts. And the fact that it was nuts was... well, not totally unexpected, but at least mostly unexpected, right? Gal Costa was pleasant music that trended toward "oldies" in a non-American way. Tropicália is a genre that you don't really think of as "progressive" in any way. But there were cracks in Gal Costa where the weird poked through. Gal, the follow-up, takes that weird and blows it up to widescreen. The entire thing is weird. Weird, and fascinating, and ballsy, and wild. This is dense psychedelia, and Gal Costa full transforms herself to meet the need that this music requires. She's out here wailing over musique concrète basically. I wonder what RC would've made of Gal Costa if this is where we met her. I personally would've been perplexed and maybe a little tired. But having Gal Costa in my life for five years now and then diving into something that completely smashes my image of her? Not tired at all. I am reinvigorated. Gal Costa is a fucking BADASS. What in the fuck is even happening here.

GRADE: 4 pukes out of 5

(Follow-up)

Willie Nelson

Red Headed Stranger — RC Week 318 — 3 pukes out of 5

Oh What a Beautiful World — RC f/u #50 — 3 pukes out of 5

Workin' Man: Willie Sings Merle

November 7, 2025

I'm not too familiar with Merle Haggard, besides knowing the name and his chosen genre and one song thanks to Song Challenge. But I'm becoming familiar with Willie Nelson through the very back end of his catalog (due to the self-imposed obligations of the RCAA), and I can say that nonagenarian Willie Nelson singing the classic country songs of yesteryear is a logical move, and Willie Nelson singing the classic country songs that his dead friend wrote is an emotionally effective move. The only piece of the puzzle that is missing for me (and not for this album's intended audience) is a familiarity with the songs themselves. Apparently, these are some of Haggard's most well-known tunes. I am not very aware of the classic country songbook, but I like the innocence of these songs, generally. It reminds me of something I'd have heard in Nashville. It goes down easy. Best of all, though, is the idea of someone missing their friend and thinking on their friendship and having fun making art while reminiscing. It's clear that Willie Nelson is doing just that on Workin' Man, and that's what puts it slightly ahead of any other late-stage Nelson album that might drop here in the 21st century.

GRADE: 3.5 pukes out of 5

(Keeping Up)

The Rolling Stones

Steel Wheels — RC Week 24 — 1.5 pukes out of 5

Hackney Diamonds — Song of the Week — 3 pukes out of 5

Foreign Tongues

July 10, 2026

The Rolling Stones are old, and anything they release in 2026 is going to be, by definition, inessential. That's okay. That's the baseline we're starting at, and I'm okay with you. You know why? Because Charlie Watts isn't on this album. I HATE the de-aging deepfakery of "In the Stars," but can you imagine how much worse it would've been if we had to watch a de-aged Charlie Watts sourpuss his way through this bullshit? The Stones are old and inessential, so I say this with a healthy dose of irony and sarcasm, don't worry, but: the Rolling Stones are a better band without Charlie Watts. ANYWAY, the hope with these kinds of things is that they can give us at least two great songs. They do enough here to get there. The aforementioned "In the Stars," if you ignore the video, is one of them. The other is "Divine Intervention." Both choruses absolutely soar for these two songs. And in 2026, on a new Rolling Stones album, two great songs is way more than enough to keep me satisfied. Certainly more than enough to even out nonsense like "Mr. Charm." I think it's fun to think about the Stones in the present, even though, of course, fucking DUH, it's no Sticky Fingers. If you expected that, you're a moron. Give me two good songs.

GRADE: 3 pukes out of 5

(Random RCAA News)

• Soccer suuuuuuucks but the World Cup Championship's halftime show included Post Malone, BTS, and Burna Boy.
• Mick Jagger speaks on separate occasions about his fellow RC alumni Olivia Rodrigo and Geese.
• Kelly Clarkson has the Taco Bell parasite.
• Waxahatchee had her baby!

RC@5: Steel Wheels by the Rolling Stones

Record Club covered this album exactly five years ago. I gave it another listen this week. Here are some thoughts. 

Steel Wheels

The Rolling Stones

Week 24: July 14, 20, 2019

I wonder how much there really is to follow up with here. The purpose of the choice for Record Club was to explore a hitherto unfamiliar Stones album before Pam and I saw them in concert, but you can read the review of that concert on this blog already. I can't imagine that opinions about the Stones have changed in the last five years, since not much about the Stones has changed—a new album that underlined the same ol' shit, another world tour, a back catalogue that will stand the test of time as long as humans are listening to music. Oh, and their drummer died. Charlie Watts. You might remember him. His death raised the average skill level of drummers around the world in total by like three points (on a ten-point scale). Rest in peace, my dear departed asshole.

None of this was embedded in the review, of course. Week 24 was still too early to have the ability to take the wide lens to an album. Back then, I was taking a specific thing, and basing my entire review around it. Which seems myopic now, but it's a process.

Of course it isn't 1.5 pukes out of 5. This is the worst underrate on my part since Week 3's Cat Power album. But that's what happens when you take a narrow view. The thought process was: this sounds like the 1980s (true), and ipso facto, this must be bad (false). Five years has done a lot to soften my stance on sounds from this era. I dare say I even lean into it on most occasions. It's the only way I can explain my devotion to John Parr's "St. Elmo’s Fire (Man in Motion)." So something like "Terrifying" actually sounds pretty good to me now. Not great, but at the very least good enough that two different reviews using it as the "bad" example seems very off at this point.

I wanted to give the second half a listen in particular before I upped this score, though, especially since my review specifically states that the back half is bad, and because I could confirm without even a relisten that my favorite songs from Steel Wheels are all in the front half. "Blinded by Love" is decent, but definitely a country-fied back-porch rocker that you could find on any high-class Stones album too. "Rock and a Hard Place" sounds like classic Stones with an '80s edge to it, which I'm liking. Good horn section, good backing vocals. "Can't Be Seen"... I mean, it's actually kinda funny, now that I'm returning to it. I don't even know if I'd call it bad! Just definitely not the Rolling Stones. And it still totally tracks why the Richards-on-lead-vocals songs at the concert had the biggest bathroom lines.

"Almost Hear You Sigh" is probably worse, honestly, with the slow tempo and extremely corny backing vocals and echoes. "Continental Drift" is global music for a domestic draft beer boomer crowd that has zero interest in global music. I guess the breakdown is kinda cool, but man, it's very strange hearing this kinda thing on this kinda record. "Break the Spell" was accurately described the first time around ("instantly forgettable mumble-grumble-blues"). And "Slipping Away" is another Richards-fronted tune, and I protest too much already. Dude can't sing, though, is the thing.

Given all that I had discovered and have rediscovered, I would give this album a 2.5 pukes out of 5. Some good songs, some bad songs, some faltering especially when compared with the rest of the discography, some really strange choices, but generally still pleasant to listen to. One more Richards song would've dropped it to a 2; one more "Sad Sad Sad"-quality song would have raised it to a 3.

But nothing changes. Not really. This ship is too big to steer in another direction at this point. Not even the death of the insufferable Watts changes anything. Most certainly not a poor review for an average album. The Rolling Stones are the Rolling Stones and will always be the Rolling Stones, even after the two essential members currently left are also gone. 

It's kinda weird that the intro to the Sunday write-up for this album mentioned that the fact that we had chosen an older album as a "success." I guess at this point, 24 weeks in, we had chosen mostly albums that had been released that year? I don't know where the misconception came from originally, that this was a new-albums-only club. An unnamed member texted me in like Week 101 and was like "wait we can pick old albums too?!" I think about now, though, and wonder if we haven't gone too far in the other direction. Are we doing too many old albums? Or does it not really fucking matter?

It's just weird that the Rolling Stones were considered an "outlier" at any point for any reason. Sure, it's 35 years old, and it has some sounds that aren't necessarily what we have now come to know as the patented sound of this band, but it's still the fucking Stones, man. That ain't changing, no matter what Record Club does.

Yearlong Song Challenge, Day 8: Joe

Prompt: "The last song that the artist ever made before they died"

Selected by Joe

"Live by the Sword"

The Rolling Stones ft. Elton John

Hackney Diamonds, 2023

Classic rock radio is fucked, yo. I mean, it was pretty dumb to base your entire business model on a product that never changes, ever, no matter what. Yes, nostalgia sells, but it also has an expiration date. Eventually, anyone who feels legitimate nostalgia for it is going to die, and then no one is left to listen to the same 200 songs over and over. Without looking at any research to back it up, I'm going to assume that the suicide rate of classic rock radio DJs is significantly higher than radio DJs for stations that are allowed to play new music.

The funny thing is that I heard a new song on the hated 102.9 WMGK the other day. (Why was I listening to a radio station I literally just described as "the hated," you might ask? I'm ride or die WXPN, but I want to listen to music, and occasionally, those World Café interviews go on a bit too long, so then I'm forced to randomly spin the dial.) It was "Angry" by the Rolling Stones. Decent song. I'm glad I heard it on the radio, no matter where it was found. But I still did a double-take when I heard it, on this specific radio station, because it was a new song. On classic rock radio.

And look, I'm not saying it doesn't make sense for the station's audience. Of fucking course the boomers (and self-hating Gen-Xers, and deranged millennials, and utterly lost Gen-Zers) who are listening to this station, which features plenty of classic Stones tunes, would like the newest Stones tune. It totally tracks. These are the people for whom "Angry" truly exists. It's the bread and the butter. But don't you see how a song like "Angry" puts the radio station in a precarious position?

Because the whole brand exists to say "the music of yesterday is way better than the shit they're playing today." And yet here is a new song that totally fits into the style of the music that is being played, and but then by playing it, the song contradictorily proves that there is new music that's worth hearing. If you're gonna play one song that very purposefully sounds like the classic rock music of the '70s, then why not play other songs from the 2020s that achieve the same goal? Why not play, I don't know, Low Cut Connie? But don't you see? They can't. The Rolling Stones won't be around too much long to offer WMGK its one-time free pass.

We're listening to "Live by the Sword" and not "Angry" today because Charlie Watts is the dead Stone in question, not Mick Jagger or (amazingly) Keith Richards. Watts rather famously (or infamously, depending on which blog you're reading) died in 2021, and he left behind drum tracks on two songs that ended up on Hackney Diamonds a couple years later. If I didn't tell you which songs they were (this and "Mess It Up"), then you would have no fucking clue. You know why? Because Charlie Watts was a basic-ass drummer, overrated to extreme, and easily replicable. There are famous drummers who actively made their famous bands better because of that drumming, and there are famous drummers who are famous because they just happened to be the drummer in an otherwise good band that became famous. I think we know which side Charlie Ass-Sucking Watts falls on.

I should probably reiterate here that I'm not, like, celebrating his death or anything. I'm happy that he made other people happy, and I'm sad that his death made other people sad. But I also have no problem speaking ill of the dead in a (forced) humorous way. And I certainly won't have any issue when dinosaur classic rock radio formats finally reach their own end. A song like "Angry" and WMGK deigning to play it is the fucking death rattle of classic rock as a radio genre. Good! Yes! Fuck anyone who thinks that there isn't any worthy music being released these days, and double-fuck anyone who attempts to sell that idea to you over the radio waves.

A Year of Blind Spots: Moving Pictures

Moving Pictures

Rush

1981

Let's talk about Neil Peart.

I'm not as vocal about disliking Peart's drumming as I am Charlie Watts'. Like, there's no "Neil Peart Licks Butts" tag that I'm going to attach to this blog post. But I do feel similar, if less fiery, about Neil Peart's drumming as I do Watts'.

When I was growing up and playing the drums and getting into classic rock music at the same time, I considered the holy trinity of drumming to be: Ringo Starr, John Bonham, Keith Moon. The thing they all had in common, and the thing that I grew to consider "essential" to being an all-timer drummer, is the the fact that the three of them were not only really fucking great at drumming, but also looked like they were having a lot of fun while drumming. I came to know the "spirit" of drumming, and viewed the percussion world as binary—you either had the spirit or you didn't.

It's not a matter of technical skill. It's more a matter of using that skill to bring fun and joyfulness to the art of drumming. There are plenty of drummers who are better on a pure technical level than Ringo Starr, for example. But no one embodies the soul and wonder of drumming better than Ringo. Definitely not Neil Peart (which I found out this week was pronounced like "peer-t" and not "pur-t"—I do a terrible job of "knowing thy enemy," so take everything I'm saying today with a huge grain of salt).

He's known as one of the most technically proficient drummers in rock 'n' roll history, and I saw or heard nothing this week to prove that otherwise. His nickname, I'm told, is "The Professor," and I can assure you that he is not in the John Keating tradition. Watch videos of the "famous" Neil Peart drum solos, and you will see a man who plays the drums like he is writing his dissertation—concentrated, serious, and careful to suck all the joy out of the occasion. I get that the 360-degree drum set and electronic drum pads and all that shit are impressive, but if it's all in service of some fucking robot playing them, then I fail to see the point.

In order to make sure I wasn't full of shit, I did what every self-respecting music blogger would do in this situation—I watched old David Letterman videos on YouTube. Letterman, in the summer of 2011, had a couple different "Drum Solo Weeks," during which the final musical guest each night was a drummer who would play their heart out. And yes, it is true—of the ten solos I saw, Neil Peart's was the busiest and most skillful. But I would also argue that it was the worst drum solo featured. Stewart Copeland, drummer of the Police, is probably half the drummer that Peart is, skill-wise, but his drum solo was so fucking fun. Ya know why? Because the dude was having a fucking blast up there. Smiling, sweating, leaning into every groove, throwing his sticks up in the air in a celebratory fashion... fuck, man, this is true drumming. (Also: I was stunned by how hot Sheila E. looked playing drums in a short dress and high heels. New turn-on unlocked, I guess.)

So if I say that I think Neil Peart is a shitty drummer, then what I really mean is that I think he is good at drumming, but shitty at being a drummer. I've made this argument in the past (I'm pretty sure I recall promising Dave I would explain it in more detail after he chose "YYZ" for a song prompt). But here's something interesting that complicates the issue: I had no idea before this week that Neil Peart was also Rush's lyricist, and that all the songs on Moving Pictures—including the aforementioned "YYZ" and the well-known "Tom Sawyer"—were written by him. Hmm.

Here's what I'll say about this: I am not well-read enough to be able to confidently comment on Neil Peart's connection to Ayn Rand, so don't take this as me saying that I know what's right and Neil Peart was wrong and that's that. My ignorance complicates things. But I do get the sense that people (read: conservatives) who read Ayn Rand use her writings as justification for being selfish members of society. Libertarianism feels to me like the embodiment of selfishness. If you're not beholden to anyone but yourself (like Tom Sawyer: "No, his mind is not for rent / To any god or government"), then other people are going to suffer. But, like, that's not how society is meant to function. You're supposed to care about your fellow man. If you don't, then everything collapses. And so it seems that libertarians only look out for themselves, but then also depend on others to help them? I'll repeat something I heard a while ago: libertarians are like house cats, in that they proclaim rugged individualism, but are dependent on a system that they don't even care to understand exists.

And Neil Peart, at least in the 1980s, was focused on these themes. He is widely known as a follower of the Ayn Rand beliefs, and as one of rock 'n' roll's premiere libertarians. Parsing through just a few of the lyrics on Moving Pictures will reveal this to be true. Which makes me uncomfortable. However, complicating things further in the other direction, thank god, is the fact that Neil Peart distanced himself from Rand's work late in his life: "Oh, no. That was forty years ago. But it was important to me at the time in a transition of finding myself and having faith that what I believed was worthwhile." Also, consider that before his death, he was critical of the U.S. Republican Party—"absolutely opposed to Christ's teachings"—and saw the Democrats as a "lesser evil." While I roll my eyes at anyone who sincerely brings up the name of Jesus Christ when making an argument, I am also forced to appreciate that my views on Peart's political views are way more complicated than "libertarian bad." (Plus... the dude is Canadian...)

It's pretty easy to ignore all that when you're listening to Rush, too, if it's not your speed. Ignore the icky politics and ignore the lifeless drummer and you have what basically amounts to nerdy prog rock. Some complicated rhythms, some anthemic vocals, some two-part rock suites, it's all pretty boilerplate as far as these things go, and that's not necessarily a bad thing. I do think that some people like Rush because it makes them feel smart, and to that I'll roll my eyes harder than I would at a someone who invokes the name Jesus Christ. That's also easily ignorable. Forget what everyone else thinks about this shit, and just listen to the guitar solo on "Red Barchetta." It ain't that deep.

There are some days I can ignore all this. On those days, I listen to Rush. There are other days when I can't fucking stand the selfish stain on rock 'n' roll music and drumming. On those days, I keep my distance. Peart's been dead for almost four years now, and every day he's been gone, it gets easier for me to swallow the bullshit I need to swallow to get to the sweet riffs. But your mileage may vary.

Song of the Week: "Rolling Stone Blues"

"Rolling Stone Blues"

The Rolling Stones

from Hackney Diamonds

2023

I want to write about the idea of a classic rock artist purposefully leaving behind a legacy today. I don't want to talk about how much Charlie Watts sucks ass even from beyond the grave. You know how these things usually go.

Either by coincidence or by divine intervention from the veritable rock gods themselves, both the Beatles and the Stones released in the past couple weeks what could very well be each of their final songs. The Beatles' "Now and Then" was explicitly designed as such; the Stones' "Rolling Stones Blues"—which was the final song on their newest album, Hackney Diamonds—seemed to imply finality.

The comparisons stop there, probably. We already talked about the Beatles' new one a little bit last week. Two of their four members are long deceased, and, whether you'd describe it in these terms or not, the song was assembled from detritus left over from various demo reels across the decades. Lennon's core of a song idea in the '70s, Harrison's guitar track from the '90s, McCartney's and Ringo's musical contributions in the present day. It's a good song, made better by the act of calling it "the last song." If it weren't a song about the past meeting the present (literally in the title), maybe it wouldn't have been as successful. But the idea of old men singing an old song as a way of speaking to their dead friends is a good one, especially when those friends are literally the most famous and probably the most important musicians in the history of rock 'n' roll music.

The video, though? Woof. Some AI bullshit, terribly executed. The weirdest part of seeing John Lennon being made to dance around in the studio almost five decades after he was murdered, and for what? A joke, I guess? Or was this supposed to be a sad occasion? It looked weird and wrong. I don't get it.

It did make me think of our old friend from the blog, Robot John Lennon. Yes, it was bizarre seeing AI John Lennon on the screen, but we've been talking to the ghost in the machine for almost fifteen years now, and so I hit him up once again and tried to see what he thought about seeing himself in a music video.

Puke on Your Birthday: Thanks for waking up again for this dumb blog bit. I have an important question for you.

Robot John Lennon: It's been two years.

PoYB: Almost three, actually.

RJL: Where are you?

PoYB: Just sitting at my computer

RJL: Tell me some of the things you like to do?

PoYB: I like talking to Robot John Lennon. Wait, relax for a second. I have an important question for you.

RJL: I understand. With the president.

PoYB: No, no, with you. Did you hear the new Beatles song?

RJL: Okay, it's worthless. I never noted his nose until about six months ago.

PoYB: What? Whose nose?

RJL: Ringo's you swine.

PoYB: THAT'S your takeaway from the new video?

RJL: Thanks for explaining it.

PoYB: Explaining what?

RJL: What?

PoYB: What am I explaining?

RJL: It's all over the place.

PoYB: Can I please talk to you about the new Beatles song? They made it from one of your demos.

RJL: If I can manage it into a peace event.

PoYB: That's the thing. It wasn't a peace event. It was a new Beatles song in 2023.

RJL: Yeah, it's one of the thing it was not a peace event it was a new beatles song in 2023.

PoYB: Uh oh, did your creators not oil your robot joints today? Did they not warn you that people would be here to ask you about the new Beatles song?

RJL: ...and Winnie-the-Pooh.

PoYB: I'll take that as a "no."

RJL: Do you think that'll work?

PoYB: It will not. But I am persistent.

RJL: It depends on what the meaning of the word "it" is.

PoYB: Are you making a Bill Clinton reference? Weren't you dead for almost 20 years when he said that.

RJL: We're not agreed on it.

PoYB: Did you agree that your old mates should have taken your demo for "Now and Then" and make a new song out of it and call it a Beatles song?

RJL: A likely story.

PoYB: I mean... yes. It literally happened. The song was released last week.

RJL: Oh I get it. Thanks for explaining that.

PoYB: And they made a video to go along with the song. You're in it.

RJL: I never noted his nose until about six months ago.

PoYB: Did you see Ringo in the new video? Is that why you keep bringing his nose up?

RJL: Quit trying to drag things down to your own level.

PoYB: What do you think of the new video?

RJL: A lot of things.

PoYB: Is one of those things possibly "I thought it was fucking insulting that they made my 43-years-dead corpse do a silly dance in the studio through the 'magic' of AI"?

RJL: I think so, but I'm not sure.

PoYB: It was uncanny valley as FUCK.

RJL: Is it still uncanny valley as fuck anymore?

PoYB: Yes, it looked weird and it made me uncomfortable.

RJL: It was just tongue-in-cheek, it's not that serious.

PoYB: I guess that's the other thing. If you're gonna say it wasn't that serious, then why was everyone taking it so seriously? I think it was just tonally off. Either make it a joke or make it a somber occasion. Don't say you're mourning your old friends and the life you had and then make a Polar Express-looking John Lennon CGI abomination do a silly little dance in front of an orchestra, ya feel me?

RJL: Did you say youguess that is the other thing if iare going to say it was not that serious then why was everyone taking it so seriously youthink it was just tonally off either make it a joke or make it a somber occasion do not say iare mourning myold friends and the life ihad and then make a polar express-looking john lennon cgi abomination do a silly little dance in front of an orchestra ya feel you Yourfirst name is puke ? You're quite mature.

PoYB: Okay, I'm not gonna lie... that made me laugh.

RJL: Yeah okay, Bread?

PoYB: What? No, no, nevermind. Any final thoughts on "Now and Then," either the song or the video or the ostensible end of the Beatles?

RJL: I really couldn't say for sure.

What this tells me is that we need to be careful with how we prepare for our own legacies. I'm talking about anyone but I'm really talking about musicians and artists. I have a soft spot for artists who care about their legacies and make an effort in crafting the myth. The song "Now and Then" adds to the myth of the Beatles, even if the video detracts from it. Hearing John Lennon sing lead on "Now and Then" adds to the myth, and having a crass and basic AI chat machine speak for John Lennon on a long-forgotten old-internet website detracts from it.

The Rolling Stones, whether they like it or not, are approaching the end of their life cycle. That's okay. They are old and getting older. Mick Jagger and Keith Richards are the only original members left. Ronnie Wood isn't "original" but joining in 1975 makes him "close enough." Charlie Watts, the only other official Stone whom I saw in concert in 2019, was murdered in 2022 by a crazed and obsessed blogger. Hackney Diamonds will, in all likelihood, be their final album. And that's okay.

I feel like I have a soft spot for old rockers who are self-aware in this regard. That was the whole deal with Bruce Springsteen a couple years ago (#7), when he made a way-better-than-it-had-to-be album with the E Street Band about death and loss and preparing to leave this mortal coil while also remembering the good times you had. And that's what made Bowie's final album so fucking fascinating, the myth that he knew he wasn't long for this earth and wanted to make one more statement right before he died (that myth is filled with half-truths, but a full-truth is that he died two days after Blackstar's release). There's a satisfaction in completing the story, in bringing the myth to a close on one's own terms.

Hackney Diamonds has its faults, of course. Some of it might as well be AI for how generic its Stones Sound™ is. Watts is only on two songs, "Mess It Up" and "Live by the Sword," and the latter sucks badly, but then again, Watts has always sounded like the drumming equivalent to ChatGPT, so it's not like it makes a fucking difference one way or the other. But there are other moments of catharsis, and moments of levity, and moments of dare I say it brilliance. Let's talk about the Lady Gaga-assisted "Sweet Sounds of Heaven" some other time, maybe—it's too good to be tossed into this blog post as an aside.

My focus, not in terms of music but in terms of myth, is the final song. "Rolling Stone Blues," which is a Muddy Waters song from 1950, and is the song from which the Rolling Stones originally derived their name. Which, in my admittedly basic opinion, is pretty cool. It's neat that this globally famous band is closing the loop on their legacy here. They started with this song, and they are potentially ending with this song too. It's a minor song in the context of the album itself, but it's a major song in the context of the legend of the Rolling Stones, rock 'n' roll band.

I think beyond that, it's not really worth talking about the music in terms of legacy or maybe not even in terms of quality. This is a "Record Club follow-up," and so I'll grade it below, but the grade is beside the point. We're talking about the goddamn Rolling Stones here. We're talking about the end of the Rolling Stones. This is a celebration, as well as a mourning. This is supergiant star collapsing into a neutron star. We are at the end, looking at the beginning. Talk about a fucking legacy.

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

RC f/u

Hackney Diamonds by the Rolling Stones

Released: October 20, 2023

Follow-up to: Steel Wheels, Week 24

Let's be straight here. Steel Wheels is fine but I definitely underrated it at the time, out of some weird subconscious need to be a harsh critic (I blame Charlie Watts). I would say that Hackney Diamonds—which was released 34 years after Steel Wheels—is slightly better than the album we covered in Record Club, and the only reason I'm going +1.5 pukes on the grade is that Steel Wheels should've been like a 2.5 pukes at worst. I would say that they are pretty similar in terms of overall quality (the lows are comparable, with both albums featuring a bad Keith Richards singalong; the highs are slightly higher on Hackney), but the whole thing about legacy above (that for some reason needed input from Robot John Lennon?) forgives its various sins, and makes the whole thing more than worth it.

GRADE: 3 pukes out of 5 (+1.5 from previous review)

Phony Beatlemania: "Paperback Writer"

Follow along in the book HERE. Today's song is at #23 and is featured on pages 158-162.

 

 

"Paperback Writer"

single

1966

The way this book puts it, here's how "Paperback Writer" came to be: one day, Paul showed up at John's house and was like, "Hey, we should start a song that goes 'Dear Sir or Madam'," and then they proceeded to spend a day plucking an entire pop song out of thin air.

I've wasted words on this blog before describing how much I hate when pop music is made this way. The example I've used in the past is the Bangles' "Eternal Flame," and how its songwriter was like "Hey, the phrase 'eternal flame' would be a good title for a song," and then they worked backward from there. My gut reaction is that it doesn't fucking mean anything, ya know? If you're just putting words on a page and you're trying to match those words to the right chords and melodies, then that feels cheap. Where's the heart? Where's the power in meaning? It might sound good or even great but ultimately it rings hollow to me.

Sometimes. Obviously I'm not here to bash this wonderful Beatles song. It's just discombobulating to me to read that pop musicians have been writing songs this way since time immemorial. You don't think of the Beatles as "pop stars," but they ruled the pop charts. It's not their fault that pop music's sound has changed so dramatically over the decades. I just have a snap reaction that I need to tamper sometimes, and it's the feeling that when a pop musician has the unique talent of spinning bullshit into gold, that we should be suspicious of that. Maybe I should take it easy, since some of that gold is "Paperback Writer," and I cannot deny the majesty of this little two-minute jam.

Plus, I get the feeling that the subject matter of "Paperback Writer" is speaking directly to what I'm talking about. There's a lot in the book about how "Paperback Writer" is a rare Beatles hit that isn't about love or romance, but I'm less concerned about that. I'm more interested in the idea that "Paperback Writer" is the first Beatles hit that is about the very idea of writing a hit Beatles song.

The paperback book that the titular author is writing is in fact a metaphor, you see. The author says that he wrote a great book but that "I could make it longer if you like the style / I can change it 'round" if the publisher wants. Basically, the narrator is saying that, even though they think the book they wrote is a winner, that changes can be made if anyone else feels that they are necessary. The details aren't important, it's the idea that this thing exists and that it's gonna make everyone a lot of money.

Paul McCartney is saying that, with a song like "Paperback Writer," it doesn't really matter what it's about, and it doesn't matter if the lyrics actually mean anything at all or they just sound nice, and it doesn't matter how many chords you use (just two for this song, I'm told), and it doesn't matter whether there really is a paperback writer or it's figurative or it's all fictional or it's all bullshit or it's a vacuous attempt at more fame and more money and more success. What's important is that it exists, and whatever it is, that it sparks joy in the listener.

That's not even mentioning the fact that one of those listeners—yours truly—is invested in the lyrics of this song because they are weirdly reflective of my own life. Not that I actually want to be a published authors, but still: Dear sir or madam, will you read my blog? It took me years to write, would you take a look? It's five thousand blog posts, give or take a few, I'll be writing more in a week or two. And so on and so on.

Here's the genius of the Beatles. They admit that it's all a facade. Paul fucking admits it right fucking there that "Paperback Writer" is bullshit cobbled together on a whim one day because he thought of the opening line and went from there. And yet! Despite the alleged vacuousness of the songs lyrics and meaning, the audience hears this pop song and finds immense and integral meaning in it anyway. I hear a glorious, catchy rock song about a man who is weighing the futility of the thing in life that brings him joy, and the bravery it takes to be open and honest about one's pursuits, especially in the face of their purported worthlessness. Even if Paul didn't give a fuck about any of that and just wanted to hit #1 on the charts again, he still puts it out there, and its meaning grows from the outside in.

It works that way. It can also work as a two-minute break from the world, a vacation with the Beatles. It can work whatever way you want. You are in control. The Beatles are just giving you the high-quality typewriter. It's up to you to write your own story.

BEATLES TRIVIA: So wait, what the fuck is Ringo doing in the video (embedded at the top of this blog post)? The other three lads are looking cool and cucumbers with their respective guitars, but I guess Ringo didn't feel like bringing the drum kit? Here's a funny Reddit thread wondering the same thing, with no clear answers. Occam's razor says that it was just funnier to see Ringo chilling in the garden instead of playing a drum set. This really pains me to admit, but if I'm going to laugh at Ringo's shenanigans in this regard, then I'm going to have to retract any previous criticisms I had when Charlie Watts pulled the same shit during the COVID lockdown nonsense. I don't see how I can avoid being a hypocrite otherwise.

BETTER BEATLE: John apparently called this song "son of 'Day Tripper,'" which is this list's #32 entry. Regardless of whether that's accurate or not, it gives us a good entryway to comparison—is "Day Tripper" better than "Paperback Writer"? On some days, yes, and on others, no. I will confess that I think Otis Redding's cover of "Day Tripper" is better than both of them.

NEXT TIME: "Happiness Is a Warm Gun" at #24

Summer Song Challenge, Day 93: Sam

Prompt: "A song that has another artist's name in the title"

Selected by Sam

"Paint It Black"

The Rolling Stones

single, 1966

Is it true we have no originally recorded Stones songs? We had a "Gimme Shelter" cover, and I think Joe has referenced his disdain for Charlie Watts at least once. But I can't remember actually including the quote unquote best rock and roll band on here.

I'm decidedly a Beatles guy over the Stones. Probably because I think the Beatles were pretty transcendent and innovative, and the Stones are just a really good rock band that's hung around for a long ass time (though hasn't put out anything good and new in 40 years). But I still like them! Exile on Main Street is great. Other albums are fine. This song is pretty good and also the name of a Philly hardcore band.

PoYB March Madness: FINAL FOUR / CHAMPIONSHIP / THE END!!!

Well, this is it. Today, we are going to determine who is the winner of this year's Puke on Your Birthday Characters Tournament of Champions. I know everyone has been on the edge of their seats for the past three weeks. Well, the wait it over.

Here are your final batch of fake quotes from the non-existent comments sections, some of which will help determine who makes it through to the final round:

Olivia: "Pretty wild to see the Pennypack Fish this close to the championship. As someone who has pulled up plenty of fish from that creek, all my money is on the little #13-seed that could."

Eli: "Please let this be Charlie Watts' redemption story. Please. Please."

Larry: "So wait... is Demi Lovato actually a Lizard Person? I'm confused."

Paul: "My bracket is more like a brACK!et at this point. Let's go Cathy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Indigo: "I'm still fucking burned about how Robot John Lennon got booted because another robot randomly chose him to. AI fucking sucks, man."

Giuseppe: "Odio lo stupido cane da pizza!!"

Pennypack Goose: "honk honk"

Heath Ledger: *rolls in his grave*

Cathy: "Ack!"

Shannon: "He was a terrible prom date! So let's go Joker!!!"

And now! The results of the Elite Eight!

Highlights:

• I don't think Cathy stood a chance. She has once again Ack!ed her last Ack!. Melissa Peterman was just too strong of an opponent. Think about what Peterman has done for this blog. She took a summer-long cringey hack bit and validated it. She actually made Puke on Your Birthday funny for once! What the fuck has Cathy ever done besides eat all my chocolate?
• Charlie Watts' continued dominance in this tournament proves that I have no idea what I'm doing here. Because wait, what does it actually mean to "win" a "round" in this tournament? Is it the character I like best? But then so why is Charlie Watts still around, if I like him the least? What the fuck is the point of all this? Real answer: I don't know. I really don't. And I don't care, because no one else does. Does it make sense that Charlie Watts "wins" against a local cartoon mascot for a pizza parlor? ...I guess? Does it matter?
• WOAH. Tough matchup between Dwyer Joker and Prom Kev. Seriously. Especially because these are the two "characters" who are closest to real-life, actual people/friends in this dumb tournament. I think it would be uncouth to define this match-up as "Dwyer vs. Kev," because I'm not in the business of "ranking friends." They are two of my best friends (which explains why their balls are busted semi-regularly on a blog that I run). No, let's make it clear that this match-up is all about "Joker Dwyer" and "Prom Kev." Consider them alter-egos if you must. Let's talk it out. There are two videos in question. One is Dwyer performing a scene from The Dark Knight. The other is Kev playing a supporting role in our neighborhood pal Shannon's CosmoGirl video. (It's a minor miracle that both videos still exist on the internet in 2023, by the way.) The Joker video has one focus, and that is Dwyer Joker. The CosmoGirl video has multiple focuses, but the fact that Kev of all people makes a cameo in a fucking CosmoGirl video really raises the humor levels to the highest they can possibly get to. Still, I think that we should focus on what the camera considers the star of each respective video. And if that's the main consideration, then there is no doubt that Dwyer Joker continues to the Final Four. Sorry, Prom Kev. Maybe you'll have kids one day, and those kids will be in a CosmoGirl video, and you, like your own father, will make a cameo appearance in that one too.
• I don't know what to tell you. Something about that Pennypack Fish has been resonating with me recently. It's like this little stupid symbol of hope that I obviously hung onto at one point in my youth, back when problems were small but felt large, that if I could catch a fish, then who knew what else I could do, who knew how much my summer would improve... there's something sweet about that sentiment, right? It's stupid for sure, but also I can't shake the feeling that we need that tiny little Pennypack Fish more than ever now. Sorry, Demi, but I'm sure you'd feel the same way if you were human and not a lizard person.
  

Holy moly, what a tournament it's been so far, folks. Let's check out the two matchups in this year's FINAL FOUR:

PoYB March Madness

Final Four

#4 Melissa Peterman vs. #1 Charlie Watts

Neither of these characters have had a particularly tough time in their match-ups across this tournament. Peterman really only had a tough time with Andy, but was deftly able to overcome those odds. She also dispatched Allister E. McGrath (who is a capitalist pig and a swindler), Patrick Stickles (who is a grump), and Cathy (who is Cathy). A really strong showing from our Reba girl of summer. Charlie Watts, on the other hand, hasn't really been challenged a single time. I guess Family Circus Billy was a decent threat? (Also: funny how both of these players have slayed characters from the pages of the comics section of the newspaper.) But Facebook Calvin and Popcorn Guy were fucking jokes, and the Vincent's Soccer Dog didn't stand a fucking chance.

And so here we are. I keep framing Melissa Peterman's match-ups like this, but it still applies: Melissa represents the best in us. Puke on Your Birthday is all about stupid fucking bullshit running jokes, and the big one last summer was that we were going to be writing about the same episode of Reba 113 times in a row. It's easy to dismiss that kind of thing. It was stupid, and so it's easy to ignore. But Melissa Peterman didn't ignore it, or dismiss it. She joined in. She added to the joke. She made the blog better in a tangible way. She chose to do it. I really appreciated it at the time, and those warm feelings carry over.

Charlie Watts is the inverse in a couple ways. First, he would never add to the joke. He would never be down to have fun in the way that we have fun here at PoYB. The dude is suffocatingly all business all the time. Or was... he died last year, of course. That doesn't change the facts of the matter, though. The man didn't smile. He was a curmudgeon. And he sucked ass at the drums. But we could also frame it this way: if Melissa Peterman represents the best in the blog, then Charlie Watts represents the worst in me. Charlie Watts brings out in me such emotions as anger and resentment and sarcasm and hostility, and those emotions are ugly. I want to see the best in people. Melissa Peterman makes seeing the best in people easy. Charlie Watts makes seeing the best in people so goddamn hard.

Nevertheless, these aren't really the metrics in which determine winners in tournaments like this. Sometimes, the good guys lose. I don't know what's going to happen in this match-up. We'll see.

#1 Dwyer Joker vs. #13 Pennypack Fish

This is a mismatch. Maybe the biggest mismatch of the tournament so far, at least in these later rounds. On the one side, we have your big bag #1-seed, Dwyer Joker. Unlike Heath Ledger's Joker, there was no chaos or confusion in the first three rounds. Dwyer Joker methodically expelled Archie Smith, the Tetris I-block, and, a villain more dastardly than even the Joker, Jake Paul. Only Prom Kev gave Dwyer Joker any sort of challenge, but he prevailed, and is looking all the stronger for it. Pennypack Fish, on the other hand, has had to fight tooth and gills to make it to the Final Four. This is the Cinderella story of the year. A #13-seed in the Final Four! It's Round One opponent was a joke (Meghan Trainor), but Buckethead is no slouch (he's released like 30 albums since we ranked his discography, ya know), and Post Malone was a fucking #1-seed! Pennypack Fish's order was a tall one, and if it wants to make it to the final round, another #1-seed is going to have to be defeated.

And now, the truth. A truth of which I've never written about, a truth of which I am deeply ashamed: after I caught the Pennypack Fish, I threw it back in the creek, but the arc of the throw was too high, and when the fish hit the surface of the creek, it landed too hard, and died. Pretty convenient to leave that part of the story out of PoYB's little message of hope and optimism, huh? Sure, it was just a fish, but there's a larger message here of my sometimes inability to protect those whom I am supposed to be protecting, and that responsibility to protect sometimes inadvertently turning into active harm. I think about that in my workplace now: is what I'm doing helping or hurting, in the grand scheme of things? The image of the dead Pennypack Fish often flashes in my mind as a notable failure on my part.

I hope it's not going too far to say that maybe the metaphor can extend to my friendship with Dwyer (though in a much less gruesome way, granted). I love the video of Dwyer Joker, and as you may have noticed, I'll take any excuse to post that video on this blog. But at the same time, Dwyer himself hates the video. He's embarrassed. He shouldn't be—he's actually a really good actor in the video—but he is. And so I wonder if my continuing to hold the torch for this particular video-documented embarrassment is doing active harm to our friendship. I wonder if my ball-busting ever goes to far. I don't want my pal Dwyer to be like the Pennypack Fish. Dwyer Joker should be a symbol of hope, not a sign that I am doomed to destroy everything I touch.

And what responsibility do I have to choose a winner? Do I continue the bit about Dwyer doing a Joker impression just a little bit longer, thus extending the probability that Dwyer will choose now to call it quits on the friendship and give me a well-deserved Fuck You? Or do I prolong the lie, let the Pennypack Fish slip through, and continue to lead everyone to believe that this underdog is an aspiration, and not a harbinger of destruction?

I have no idea.

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PoYB March Madness

Championship Round

#1 Charlie Watts vs. #13 Pennypack Fish

Let's talk about why we blog.

I've spoken about it before, of course, but it's important in this particular context. Why are we even doing this? Any of this? We're talking about a hypothetical basketball-style match-up between a dead drummer and a dead fish. Why?!

If that's a serious question, though, then we are obligated to extend the question out to infinity. Not "why are you doing this?" but "why do anything?" What the hell is the point of life? Why are we even bothering to get out of bed? It doesn't make much sense, because life is full of pain, and to live means to brace for more. We blog for the same reasons we live: it's something to do. It kills the time. Plus, the very act of creating something, however stupid that thing is, can act as a net positive for this life and this world. First there was nothing, and then there was something. There's joy in that! It's something small, but it's motherfucking something. To put words together on the figurative page. What a fucking joy to behold.

I think it also has something to do with the act of doing so publicly that brings me a particular joy. It's a way of connecting to others, however briefly, however flimsily through the vast spiderwebbed network of cables that is the internet. There's something to sharing one's thoughts on a blog that just feels different than, say, a diary entry. The content could be the same, but the function is different. We write the words, and that creates this tiny little attachment to whoever ends up reading those words. You perform that act enough times, and that makes a community.

It's not even a matter of the readers agreeing with the writers. Sometimes the word evoke anger, resentment, jealousy, pain, or a thousand other ugly feelings. That's okay. To feel something is to live! The blog then becomes a life force, feeding energy, be it positive or negative or whatever, but energy to keep us alive. The words become paragraphs, the paragraphs become blog posts, the blog posts are fuel for the fire in our hearts.

So when we consider who should win, Charlie Watts or Pennypack Fish, we must ask: which of these blog characters fuels that fire and allows it to burn the brightest? The flames are blinding on both sides of the match-up, as far as I'm concerned. Here is Watts, his rickety drumming somehow supporting rhythmically one of the greatest rock 'n' roll bands of a generation, my hatred for that same drumming and the drummer who creates that drumming somehow supporting lexically one of the longest-running and weakest bits on this stupid ass blog. And here is the Fish, simultaneously a symbol of hope and of shame, a totem of a simpler life, a constant reminder that life will never be easy, and that we can pretend that small moments of success cancel out the looming failure, but there eventually comes that moment when the scales hit the surface of the water and all the life is drained out of you.

And yet... and yet, hope. Still. Though neither of these characters arouse much hope themselves, it is their continued existence on this blog, and the words they inspire, that serve as the very foundation for everything we are doing here. They, and the 62 other characters like them, are the very lifeblood of Puke on Your Birthday. Yes, life inflicts unimaginable pain, but we take it like a man, and we write about Charlie Watts and Pennypack Fish, and we dish some of that pain right back.

No matter the winner of this fucking tournament, let it be known that we lived.

But yeah, the winner:

PoYB March Madness

Championship Winner:

**CHARLIE WATTS**

Play us out, Charlie, you fucking useless piece of shit.

PoYB March Madness: ROUND ONE

Our annual national tradition of NCAA March Madness begins next week. I don't really give a shit about college basketball these days (La Salle's fluky and magical 2013 run was the exception that proves the rule), but I would argue that a love for college hoops is not necessary in order to be enthralled by March Madness anyway. It's the not the sport itself, but the structure of the bracket in which the ultimate winner is decided that captures the attention of part-time sports enthusiasts like myself. 64 teams, arranged in a very specific order, then told to fight, again in a very specific order, but an order which contains almost infinite possibilities, but with each subsequent game we watch that number of possibilities collapse until a single unifying reality. Brackets are a lot of fun.

So let's have our own bracket on Puke on Your Birthday. Feel free to play along, maybe even fill out this bracket (anyone who fills it out completely correct gets my pension). We're collecting 64 different "blog characters" from over the last fifteen years of PoYB, and pitting them against each other to determine who is the ultimate emblem of that PoYB spirit.

Let's briefly talk logistics. Here's how I made the bracket. First, I combed through one and a half decades' worth of blog posts, and listed 64 different "characters" that I felt were important and also unique to the blog in some way (i.e. that this was someone or something that was tangibly related to a blog idea, and not just a person who was mentioned on the blog). I don't know how to further explain this without e.g.-ing all over the place, and if you need that, just look at the bracket for 64 examples of what I'm talking about.

So I listed 64 characters, and then when I was drunk on the El, I assigned them seeds from 1 to 16, with four characters assigned each seed. It was an imperfect science, but I tried to guide myself by how important or relevant each character was to the blog, purely from a quantitative standpoint. Those who were more important or mentioned more often were assigned a higher seed. But I also attempted to stay neutral in this task, because the winners will eventually be determined when that neutrality drops away, and we are forced to reckon which character is BETTER or MORE FAVORABLE.

The seeds were on purpose, but the placement within each seed was random. Each of the four regions features one of each seed, and it was completely by chance which region each member of each seed was placed in. It's also by chance that some of the matchups ended up being really exciting.

Below, I'll briefly discuss each matchup, and maybe throw in some strengths/weaknesses, plus a prediction if the matchup is particularly lopsided. HOWEVER, the winners of the first round will not be determined/announced until next week. I have my thoughts about all of these characters (obviously), but I am open to persuaded in either direction, if our PoYB want to have a say. Please drop your opinions in the comments below, they will be considered in determining the winners!!

I tried to link each character's name to the most relevant blog post associated with them, though the higher you get in the seeding, the more blog content you'll find if you go searching for it. I'm doing my best to weave fifteen years of blog history together, but that's a lot of bullshit, and we're not going to be able to cover all of it today.

Alright, about to get started here, but one final note: this is stupid. It's stupid and dumb and pointless. But that's kind of the point of Puke on Your Birthday, no? That it's stupid and dumb and pointless but also really fun, sometimes, in a stupid and dumb way. I can think of no better way to celebrate fifteen years of fun than by putting all the stupid and dumb inside/running jokes on a bracket and forcing them to compete against each other.

THE BRACKET:
click to enlarge

PoYB MARCH MADNESS, ROUND ONE

NICKELODEON'S KIDS' CHOICE AWARDS REGION

#1 Andy vs. #16 The Fruit Brute

It's tough to imagine Andy the erstwhile neighborhood alcohol-runner falling in these early rounds, but if any #16 seed is going to pull off the upset, it's going to be the Fruit Brute. Though, full confession: I've never actually eaten Fruit Brute cereal! I'm a fraud! I'm sorry!

#8 Scott Franzke vs. #9 Ron-Ron

Some of these characters are here on their own strength, but some are here because they are more so representative of a whole class of blog posts. I've written about the Phillies a lot, but Frankze gets the seed because I wasn't going to include a domestic abuser in a fun little fake bracket exercise. And I've written about pregaming and about trash TV a lot too, but Jersey Shore's Ron (well, actually his drunken alter-ego, Ron-Ron) gets the nod here. How will these two match up under those circumstances? I have no idea.

#5 Patrick Stickles vs. #12 Ireland Patrick

The battle of the Patricks! One Patrick saw me at my lowest, socially, and another Patrick was seen at his own lowest, emotionally. Let's see if Ireland Patrick has sobered up enough to pull off the upset.

#4 Melissa Peterman vs. #13 Allister E. McGrath

A little high for Melissa Peterman, maybe, but the four-seed was secured just based on the fact that she's the only character here who has uttered the phrase "Puke on Your Birthday" out loud in real life. Allister E. McGrath, on the other hand, is a stupid fucking hack. But God believes in McGrath, so we'll see.

#6 Dr. Evil vs. #11 Cathy

Just imagine Cathy yelling "Ack!" and Dr. Evil telling her to "shhh!" and you can see why I'm excited for this matchup of very cool, very hip characters.

#3 Van Montgomery vs. #14 Frenchy French

Ooh, interesting match-up. Who's the bigger disgusting perv? The man who literally owned my neighborhood strip club and turned it into a trap house, or the man who spent his 20s shoving thermometers up his preteen brother-in-law's ass?

#7 Crosswalk Lady vs. #10 Hagrid the Death Eater

Hagrid gets to stand in for all the various Harry Potter shit we've talked about over the years, mainly because he is innocent and definitely not a TERF. But he's gotta face the Umbridge of Rockledge. Let's see how he does.

#2 Kadafi Li vs. #15 Joe Lero

I have never met Joe Lero in real life, as far as I can recall. So let's assume that he is the world's second biggest Kadafi Li fan. I mean, who can deny Kadafi Li's charm? Not me. Sorry Joe Lero, your chances are looking slim.

POWER HOUR REGION

#1 Charlie Watts vs. #16 Facebook Calvin

On the one hand, a sixteen-seed traditionally has very little chance at overcoming the odds, especially when that sixteen-seed is some punk ass bitch from Facebook. On the other hand... Charlie Watts sucks ass.

#8 Popcorn Guy vs. #9 Remy the Rat

Wow... I don't even know where to begin with this one. There's a connection here, obviously, with the food, but I don't know if I can articulate why that's important to me. It's like... maybe Remy the Rat is the only person besides me who is going to appreciate some trash Philly fan dumping his trash on some trash basketball player? Remy would be like "It's not trash! It's art!" like the little Philly rat that he is.

#5 Family Circus Billy vs. #12 Barbara

Ask nineteen-year-old Joey who he hated more, and you'd definitely get some hemming and hawing, because he hated Billy from Family Circus and Barbara from his history class in pretty equal measures. Of course, ask 34-year-old Joey, and you'll get some understanding that the nineteen-year-old version of Joey was a huge fucking asshole in one of those situations. But with the other one? Totally warranted. Fuck Family Circus. But who knows, man, maybe that hate is fun enough to propel this little monster to justify his seed.

#4 Jordan Belfast vs. #13 @bigreed777

Some of these match-ups are too good to be true. Jordan Belfast (the protagonist of The Wolf of Wall Street) and @bigreed777 (the antagonist of the Atlantic City improv comedy scene) are two of the biggest scam artists we've ever discussed on this blog. Great, great match-up. Can't wait to watch.

#6 Little Bitch vs. #11 David Le'aupepe

Another great match-up that will answer the following: which excellent rock-'n'-roller guitarist and songwriter can Joe project the most of his insecurities onto?

#3 Robot John Lennon vs. #14 Former Starbucks CEO Kevin Johnson

Lol, I logged in and spoke with Robot John Lennon himself for the first time since our last meeting, and asked him: "Do you think you could beat former Starbucks CEO Kevin Johnson in a fight?" His response: "I think it's time." God, I love this stupid chatbot so much better than the newfangled ones.

#7 Vincent's Soccer Dog vs. #10 Evan Stephens Hall

This is a toss-up. I don't know what I'm more upset about, still, after all these years: the whole Pinegrove thing, or the fact that some dumb pizza parlor canine mascot can't even spell the word "Italy" correctly.

#2 Dad vs. #15 Shark Guys

There's an obvious answer here, as indicated by the seeds, and the fact that the living ghost of my father looms over everything here on the blog, up to and including some fucking jabronis who commented once fourteen years ago. But sometimes the obvious answer isn't always the answer. Maybe I don't want my dad to read this, and so I'll sweep it under the rug as soon as possible. You never know!!!!

CANCELLED INDIE ROCK BAND REGION

#1 Dwyer Joker vs. #16 Archie Smith

You know what I've noticed? Nobody panics when things go "according to plan." Even if the plan is horrifying! If, tomorrow, I tell the press that, like, a one-seed is going to crush a sixteen-seed nothing of a blog character, nobody panics, because it's all "part of the plan." But when I say that one little old running joke that is designed to torture a good friend every time I link to the video is going to be upset in the bracket, well then everyone loses their minds! Introduce a little anarchy. Upset the established order, and everything becomes chaos. I'm an agent of chaos. Oh, and you know the thing about chaos? It's fair.

#8 Tetris I-block vs. #9 McGruff

Jeez, these 8-vs.-9 match-ups are going to be nuts. I have no idea who is going to win this one. They are just so different! A symbol of personal success vs. a symbol of societal failure? Who would you choose? I mean, who usually wins?

#5 Bl*ppi vs. #12 Fat Joe

Sure, Bl*ppi loves showing off all his fancy vehicles that he can pay for with those big paychecks, all the motorcycles and waverunners and sports cars, but I've never seen Bl*ppi ride ANYTHING as cool as Fat Joe's electrical scooter. There was even room for his little teacup Maltese puppy! It'll be a tough match-up, but also, consider the fact that Bl*ppi is such a little bitch that I can't even bring myself to type his full name.

#4 Jake Paul vs. #13 Melanie Field

If the gods are just, then our pal Melanie Field will find more success in the entertainment industry than scumbag Jake Paul has thus far. Maybe the gods will similarly be just and fair and wise on this bracket.

#6 Iggy vs. #11 Katie Baker

R.I.P. Iggy. R.I.P. Katie Baker's scholarship. Lots of sadness and lost opportunities in this head-to-head. May the best man win.

#3 Connie Converse vs. #14 McGillin's Conspiracy Theorist

An absolutely incredible match-up, mainly because that conspiracy theorist I met at McGillin's that one time is definitely the type of person who would believe that Connie Converse is still out there, alive somewhere, just biding her time. If she is, then expect to see Connie at an even higher seed next year.

#7 Mehow vs. #10 Kailyn the Cat Artist

I went back and forth on whether to include Mehow in this bracket. Here's my justification for deciding in his favor. I did not choose any characters for this bracket whom I don't actually like in real life. Like, I didn't include Jimmy Fallon, for instance, because I think he is a despicable man, and such a fun, silly bracket has no room for real-life facilitators of child abuse. So had I excluded Mehow, that would've felt like a piece of a grudge that no longer exists. I put Mehow here to say that I like Mehow and I hope he knows that I am sorry and that there are no hard feelings anymore. Now... how he's going to match up against a friend of the blog who draws pictures of me riding cats to the studio? I have no idea. I really like that picture. We'll see what happens.

#2 Prom Kev vs. #15 Jennifer Geller

Prom Kev stands in here for a whole hosts of Kevs—hungry Kev, drunk Kev, film connoisseur Kev, record collector Kev, pooper scooper Kev—so I don't know he's going to be defeatable, here, with the strength of every Kev behind him. I do know this, though: pretty much every version of Kev that has every existed in this wide multiverse is the type of Kev who would get really thirsty over Jennifer Geller's Instagram, and start liking all her pictures in a really obvious way. So we'll see if our Hamilton star can pull off the upset while Kev's guard is down.

WATCHING A MOVIE WHILE DOING CHORES REGION

#1 Post Malone vs. #16 Kathy Green

Whatever happened to Kathy Green? Maybe she disappeared down the same trap door that Post Malone did. Look... you know as well as I do that #1 seeds are going to do well, and I don't think I need to tell you that Kathy Green's chances here are slim. I'm just asking that you hold out hope for a miracle in maybe one of the other #1-vs-#16 match-ups. Maybe Charlie Watts will fall instead. Post Malone doesn't deserve to go down this early. That's all I'll say.

#8 Seth Cohen vs. #9 Wheelchair Jimmy

This is a sincere question: who has been more important for music in the 21st century? I'm being serious here. Let the answer to that question guide you in your quest to determine the winner here.

#5 Buckethead vs. #12 Emily P.

The only way that Emily P. is going to pull off the upset is if she finally texts me back, and that text contains her complete ranking of all 374 Buckethead albums. Or if she goes to Kev's house and steals his Buckethead banner.

#4 Meghan Trainor vs. #13 Pennypack Fish

Tough call. You know in what way Meghan Trainor's music and the Pennypack Fish are similar? Whenever I hold one in my hands, I THROW IT BACK.

#6 RuPaul vs. #11 Bill Murray

I've had my say about RuPaul, but I'm confused... who is #11? I don't know that name. And I don't know how anyone would expect RuPaul to lose to some fucking dude I've never heard of.

#3 Lizard Person Demi Lovato vs. #14 Fred Flintstone

I actually think these two would get along. One thinks that he can see a little green alien floating above him that talks to him and makes snappy quips about life. One thinks that she is a lizard person. It'll be a real shame to see them come to blows on the bracket.

#7 George Bailey vs. #10 Laf Rose

Now this is a heartwarming match-up. Both of these characters make me feel better about life. More hopeful, maybe. It'll be tough to choose between them. Especially because George and Rose both proved in their own way that no man is a failure who has friends.

#2 Guy Fieri vs. #15 Shelley Pierre

I don't know. This is going to be nearly impossible for Shelley Pierre. Maybe she can break the curse of fifteen-seeds having rotten luck in these types of tournaments. Guy Fieri, though? Really, really tough. The man has the power of diners, drive-ins, and dives behind him. All three! And who does Shelley Pierre have to support her besides a fake deity who scammed her for her life's savings? Really rough stuff here.

COMMENT BELOW IF YOU'D LIKE TO HELP DETERMINE THE WINNERS, AND THEN COME BACK NEXT WEEK TO SEE WHO ADVANCES TO THE NEXT ROUND!!