MP3 - "F-Oldin' Money" by Tommy Blake. A bit of rockabilly weirdness from 1959, with the key line in the chorus delivered through what I believe to be an empty can of LeSueur peas. And check out the incomprehensible muttering at the end. This was later covered by The Fall on the OK-but-not-great The Marshall Suite album.

I'm callin' you out, Charlie Kaufman. Your screenplay of the film Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind may be critically acclaimed and beloved by audiences, but it bears disturbing similarities to my as-yet-unfilmed script also centering around the concept of removing memories from the brain.

OK, I'll admit there are a few superficial differences. My script is entitled The Head Eraser Caper and features a wacky, nerdy mad scientist (to be played by either the Urkel kid or Eddie Deezen, based on availability) who invents a device that erases the memories of lovely, buxom young lasses. Our hero (hopefully Corey Haim, if we can get him out of rehab in time) uses the device to score with all the women who had once responded to his advances with a knee in the groin. But an evil company steals the gadget and uses it as part of a plan to take over the world by creating an army of remorseless (yet very hot) babes who kill with impunity while wearing sheer nightgowns. Our heroes thwart the plan (I won't disclose how - I'll just say it involves a sack race and the world's largest supply of chili) and become international idols.

See, it's the same idea, essentially. All right, maybe your film didn't have a pie throwing scene or the third act where the entire cast went to Tijuana to lose their virginities to some Mexican prostitutes. But besides that, I call shenanigans. And since you're one of the few people in Hollywood whose ass I'm reasonably sure I could kick, you'd best watch your back.

Hey, kids! Ever wanted to defend the Bush administration in the national media, but just can't memorize the script or keep up to date on the latest talking points? Help is on the way! Introducing the Karl Rove Phrase-o-Matic! Just select the correct phrase based on the appropriate line of rhetoric the Bush administration is using today, and voila! You'll be misdirecting reporters just like Scott McClellan in no time! Here's just a sample using this week's enemy of the state, former terrorism advisor Richard Clarke:

Richard Clarke is a(n) (embittered failed former bureaucrat/lifelong partisan Democrat/opportunistic shill looking to sell a book). Besides, he (wasn't even in the loop/was in the loop, but no one listened to his advice/advocated failed policies of the Clinton administration). Clarke's criticism on our policy to focus on Iraq after 9/11 is dubious because (terrorists, or countries that terrorists may have lived in, or visited at one time, must be dealt with by force/we were getting to al-Qaeda eventually, just wait until the second term//how dare you question the war? You America-hating, Saddam-hugging appeaser!) Our problem with terrorism isn't due to our pre-9/11 policy, it's the fault of the Clinton administration for (not singlehandedly wiping out al-Qaeda/not invading Iraq/getting a blowjob! Remember how awful that was? He disgraced the White House!) Did we mention that Richard Clarke (was obsessed with the threat of computer viruses/worked for a Democrat for a while/picked up prostitutes in Thailand one time)? It is time that the American people ignore the cheap shots taken by this (opportunist/partisan/unpatriotic dissenter) and focus on the real issues of this campaign, such as (how rugged and manly our President looks in a flight suit/not letting homos get married/John Kerry's botox treatments).

MP3 - "Lovin' in the Red" by the Theoretical Girls. Although this song was written in the late 1970s, the lyrics eerily predict the rise of eHarmony.com. It's too bad that Jeffrey Lohn fell off the face of the earth after the Theoretical Girls broke up; not only was he a talented writer of odd, barbed pop songs, but his ability to predict social trends in songs like this and "Computer Dating" would make Faith Popcorn blush (if she hadn't undergone that new surgery that prevents blushing, that is).

Yeah, I know what you're thinking. "I recognize that guy, but I can't quite place where I've seen him." Maybe this'll jog your memory: "Lauren, I am honored to be the one out of thirty contestants chosen to join you in sacred matrimony." Yeah, that's right. I was the guy who won the Million Dollar Marriage reality show last June. Well, obviously, things didn't turn out "happily ever after" like the commercials promised. We've been separated for three months, the divorce'll be final next month. Our agent pitched the divorce proceedings to the networks, but no such luck. So, I'm just looking for work, trying to make it back into the big leagues.

Oh, y'know, it was pretty exciting at first. We hit the talk show circuit, did the mall-and-supermarket tour of middle America, wrote the book "Eighty Ways to a Successful Instant Televised Marriage..." Man, we were riding high. We were American Idol quarterfinalist-famous. People respected us. And then the new reality shows came on the air, and all of a sudden we were yesterday's news. That fuckin' midget, I swear to God I'll kick him in the shins if I ever meet him and if I can find them. And once the fame wore off, the reality settled in that I was married to a complete stranger who I had nothing in common with besides a shared love of fame. Yeah, you think it's "ironic," huh? I have another word for it - living torture.

The money? Hell, we blew through the money in a month's time. Bought this house in Hollywood that was once owned by David Ogden Stiers, a fleet of Aston Martins (one for each bastard I beat out to win the contest), and as many chemical skin peels as the human body is allowed. We had everything dipped in gold - trash cans, pencils, bars of soap - just because we could. Our stuff will be up for sale at the bankruptcy auction, if you're interested.

Sure, I've got regrets. Wish I had hit on a few more models at those Hollywood parties. Sure wish I hadn't invested in that line of reality-themed pizza parlors with Kelly Clarkson and the guy from the European Joe Millionaire. But I'd do it all over again if I had to. I've got an audition for a Lay's potato chip commercial next week - you think I would've gotten that if I was still working in the insurance racket? Yeah, it's only a radio voiceover spot, but it's a start. And if I can just hold on a few more years, that retro-2000s wave is gonna crest up and sweep me right back into the public eye. VH-1 spots, infomercials for 00s hits CDs and "The Atkins Diet is Back," a whole line of t-shirt decals and sew-on patches for the hip crowd...I've got it all planned out, man.

Oh, by the way, could you do me a favor and pick up the tab for this round? C'mon, man, I gave you a great inside story on one of 2003's hottest reality shows. Besides, I'm saving up for new headshots and teeth whitening - the treatment they gave me during the show wore off.

Here are a couple of dumb but hopefully sort of entertaining cartoons I made with this thing:
Imperialist Funnies #1
Imperialist Funnies #2
Primitive flash animation + kneejerk lefty politics + punchlines cribbed from a Bazooka Joe comic = the reason Jesus invented the Internet.

I was disappointed to see that Rhea County backed down on its promise/threat to ban gays and Darwinists from its county borders. It's high time that someone stood up against the last three centuries of progress and gave a hearty "fuck you" to the Enlightenment. Other sinful items of our modern age that the county elders wanted to ban:

- the internal combustion engine
- marmosets ("Don't cotton to no tiny fairy monkeys round here. We like our monkeys large and hairy! And wearin' those little hats and ridin' a little tricycle. Cracks me and the missus right up.")
- zippers
- hair products (a known gateway drug to homo-sin-uality)
- Newton's First Law of Motion ("Dammit, objects ain't s'posed ta stay in motion with the same speed unless acted upon by an unbalanced force! It just ain't natural!")
- those little sprinkle things they put on cupcakes
- the Gabor sisters
- the three way light bulb ("One setting ain't good enough for you, fancypants?")

It's Sixties-Era Peruvian Rock MP3 Month on the Vitamin B Glandular Show! This is "Demolicion" by Los Saicos, released in 1965. Essentially, it's "Surfin' Bird" except 1. it's in Spanish and 2. the lyrics are an attempt to incite the youth of Peru to destroy the mass transit system (Let's tear railway station down!/Tear down, tear down, tear down, tear down/Let's tear railway station down/We like blowing railway stations up!" - ha, take THAT, Johnny Rotten!). So, obviously, it's much better.

I went to see the Mekons last night at Iota in Arlington, Virginia. It was the first time I've seen them live and I was mightily impressed. The Mekons are even better live than on record, possessing an easy familiarity from two decades of touring and a loose performance style that always remains in service to the song. And Jon Langford and Sally Timms have honed the between-song give-and-take to the standards of an old-fashioned comedy team. (When Branson, Missouri opens a street devoted solely to post-punk, the Langford-Timms Theater is going to be the most popular attraction.)

The setlist consisted mostly of songs from their newest album Punk Rock, a collection of remakes of their earliest material. The show suffered from the same problem as the album; while it's impressive that the 2004 edition of the Mekons is able to make decent to good material out of such thin gruel, the fact remains that these songs pale in comparison to their more recent output. Nevertheless, several of the Punk Rock songs stood out: "Corporal Chalkie" has been recast as a rueful anti-war ballad with a wearily expressive Timms vocal and "32 Weeks and "Dan Dare" were pounded out with a ferocity that made their predecessors 25 years ago sound tame. And the standards still sound fresh - Tom Greenhalgh's alienated Reagan-era "(Sometimes I Feel Like) Fletcher Christian" sounds even more apt in this day and age, and Timms' clear as a bell delivery of "Ghosts of American Astronauts" adds an unusual emotional resonance for a song that's essentially a comment on American imperialism.

I was eight feet from the door when they came back on stage for the second encore, "Heaven and Back." I would've cursed myself forever for missing such an incredible performance - a soaring, blistering take of an anthemic song on overcoming struggle (personal, professional, political) that's served as a summary of the Mekons mission. It was a transcendent moment, and a prime example of why a seemingly disposable art form like rock music is worth all of the hype, bother and attention. It's a testament to the incredible staying power of the Mekons, who've managed to remain important, vital performers in a medium that values youth above all else and when so many of their contemporaries have fallen victim to dissolution, laziness and creative inability.

Hurrah! I won a free song on the 7-11 iTunes shop giveaway today. Now, this might have been a cool prize in some other dimension of reality, but in a world where free downloads of songs are cheap and abundant, it's kind of like winning a glass of tap water.

MP3 - "It's a Sin to Go Away" by We All Together, a song from the Nuggets II box set that I always skipped over but rediscovered thanks to the miracle of the iPod shuffle function. These one-(not-really-a)-hit-wonders from Peru came up with this psychedelic pop gem featuring overbearing organ, smooth harmonies, a fuzzed-out bass that sounds like a primitive synth meandering about in the background, and an inexplicably funky backbeat that some enterprising producer needs to sample if they haven't already. It somehow works, despite the fact that it's really several different songs slapped together into one piece.

Once again, it's time to kill a few minutes with another edition of blog filler. Please enjoy these random, unrelated thoughts on various topics:

- I have mixed feelings about John Kerry getting the Democratic nomination. Don't get me wrong, I'd vote
for a chinchilla or a telemarketer or a flat can of RC Cola with a 1987 expiration date instead of Bush. But it's kinda difficult to get excited about Kerry, who reminds me of a tenured English professor who quit caring about whether his students were paying attention a decade ago. And although Kerry's record is solid enough, I'm more than a bit worried by the fact that he's never really offered a vision for where the country will be headed in the future, as well as his weathervaning on things like the gay marriage issue. But I'll take one for the team here - anti-Bush unity is more important than anything else right now. (And fine, you win, America - what you want in a president is vastly different from what I want. So I'll just resign myself to voting for the least offensive option for the rest of my life.)

- I finally got a chance to hear the live version of Smile performed by Brian Wilson in London last month. I was apprehensive about hearing it - partly because of Wilson's scattershot at best output of the past thirty years, partly because middle-aged rock shows tend to have an aura of faded glory that dampens the effect of the original works, and partly because you can't go home again - but it's an incredible piece of work. The bootleg versions of Smile were by their nature patchwork productions, featuring some good ideas without any thematic threading, but this version finally flows and feels like a fully realized series of song cycles. And while it's true that Brian Wilson can't hit the notes he could in 1966, his voice has taken on a new resonance - it's particularly poignant to hear the coming-of-age ballad "Wonderful" sung by a 61-year-old whose entire life has been defined by the pain of innocence lost. Obviously, there's no way to recapture the magic of the prime, classic Beach Boys recordings during their brief, meteoric heyday, but this is a rare instance of successful closure of the past.

- I feel obligated to make some sort of comment on the Jesus movie, even though I haven't seen it and I have no real opinions about it either way. Judging from the previews, it seems to consist of two hours of Jesus getting the shit beat out of him. I wish someone would make a beatings-per-scene comparison between this movie and Salo or the 120 Days of Sodom or Caligula or a backyard wrestling tape. (Does that satisfy my legal requirement to comment on The Passion of the Christ? Excellent.)

- McDonald's is getting rid of the supersize fries and sodas this year, in a desperate attempt to deflect some of the growing criticism of their unhealthy product lines (and, mostly, avoid additional class action lawsuits). I guess any vague notions of corporate responsibility are welcome in this day and age (even market-driven ones like this), but this idea that we as a nation need to be protected from our own consumerist whims is sort of embarrassing. C'mon, everyone knows that eating at McDonald's is essentially a low-level form of slow suicide, anyway. But this decision won't put a dent in the fattenization of America. If supersize fries are outlawed, then only outlaws will have supersize fries. And just think of the problems we'll have with people illegally crossing the border to Canada to buy poutine.

- Speaking of food, enough with the damn Atkins-friendly stuff everywhere. I bought a roll of Certs yesterday and each mint is individually wrapped in bacon now.

MP3 is the solo piano version of "Surf's Up" recorded by Brian Wilson during the illfated Beach Boys Smile sessions. Not as great as the version they finally released in 1971 with the "child is father to the man" coda, but one of Brian Wilson's greatest vocal performances - he makes Van Dyke Parks' impressive-sounding-but-meaningless wordplay actually seem profound and heartfelt. And the "mmhhmmm" at 2:33 is one of the most expressive wordless syllables ever recorded.

(And like most of Music Geek Nation, I am breathlessly awaiting the new finished (or as finished as it's ever going to get) version of Smile.)

(Inspired by a real e-mail received by a real life employee of a real life company, really. Only slightly exaggerated. Names and facts changed to protect the innocent.)

I received your letter in regards to our January 27th offer of a three year extended service contract for the Minolta XC680 copier purchased by your office last year. I understand that you have declined our offer.

All right, fine. Just let me warn you that the future of your career, not to mention your entire organization, rests upon this decision. Allied Office Equipment has been in business since 1965, providing our customers with high quality solutions to their printing and imaging needs. That's why we're the industry leader - we have the expertise to handle any possible copying need or emergency situation. You think Office Depot's going to care when your copier breaks down in the middle of a 275 page print job, 35 minutes before the presentation that will make or break your future? No. You'll call them up and talk to some spotty-faced kid making $6.75 an hour who couldn't tell you the difference between xerography and xenophobia. We could have your copier serviced and ready to run in two hours or less, but instead you're willing to throw away your professional reputation to save a measly 600 bucks a year. Just the thought of it makes me want to vomit in disgust.

I am the best, Roger. I am to copier sales what Stradivarius was to the violin, what Einstein was to physics, what Ted Williams was to hitting a baseball. No one's going to care for your needs like I will, Roger. I stay awake very night in a state of constant despair, panicking over the myriad possibilities of flaws and defects in our products. You think Jesus suffered on the cross? That was only six hours. My entire life is subsumed with the search for copying perfection. And you, the customer, will benefit from my unquenchable desire for immaculate service.

I'm just a little disappointed in you. I thought you and I were different than all those little nobodies, those insignificant mediocrities who settle for the path of least resistance. I thought we both had a shared commitment to excellence in a world that cheapens and devalues the meaning of quality and hard work. And, I'll admit it, I'm a little hurt. I thought we had something special, Roger, that went beyond the salesman-client relationship - a mutual brotherhood, if you will. Just watch - your products will break down, you personally will be blamed, you'll be fired, you'll descend into a hellish torment of substance abuse and poverty as everyone who you thought loved you abandons you. And, although I am a kind and gentle soul by nature, I won't be able to stifle a muted chuckle at your expense.

It's not too late, however. Our offer remains valid for another week. Think it over. Prove me wrong.

Sincerely yours,
James Pruitt
Account Executive