10,000 Phish Phans can’t be wrong (IaJ)

So Ian and I were trying to figure out what everybody was so angry about, and Ian floated the very interesting theory that they were just pissed because there’s no Phish show in the near future…

I mean come on, people. Here you are, driving to DC in your SUVs, wearing your Nikes and Timberlands and J Crew outfits, which frankly don’t really go well with a gas mask (by the way). And you’re coming here waving banners that say “Capitalism Kills.” Well unfortunately, this is the best agument ever to discount Darwinism. Only the strong survive? Clearly these people are too stupid to know what they’re talking about. Capitalism Kills? It seems to be doing a pretty good job for you and your family.

So what do they do when they get here? First stop? The Gap. Now admittedly, the Gap owns Old Navy and is technically responsible for putting that woman with the enormous glasses on TV to haunt us, and they gave us the “everybody in…” campaign and now they’re mocking West Side Story. Clearly, the Gap is an evil place. But when all is said and done, there’s really no reason to prevent law-abiding citizens from going about their business (while driving up Wisconsin Ave) so that you can attack the Gap wearing nothing but a grass skirt. What does this accomplish? I mean…if you want a pair of draw-string cargo pants and a tec-vest, it’s best not to wait for a court order to get them. We all know that when you’re sitting in the campus bar telling this story while drinking some (non-union) beer on all you can drink open keg night, people will think you’re cool because you got on TV – not because you showed THE MAN how well hung you may or may not be while wearing your grass skirt.

Of course, this is all our parents’ generation’s fault. Maybe if we hadn’t grown up hearing about how important it was to believe in things and protest for social justice, these kids wouldn’t feel that they had to make stuff up to protest.

Now I don’t doubt that some of these people are legit social activists who know and care about the issues. Don’t get me wrong on that. But they’re not the ones getting arrested with Molotov cocktails in their bags. These people are the ones who are lobbying their Representatives and Senators in Congress. You can tell which ones they are because they’re less angry and more civil. They want to explaing things to you. And they don’t drive SUVs.

But enough ranting. I haven’t even been drinking, yet.

Two very important sound clips.

The first comes courtesy of Mark Kornblau. With Passover coming, he sends this gem for everyone’s enjoyment. Click on the music section, and then on Dayenu. We all love Dayenu.

The second come from one of the protesters that actually knows what he’s talking about. The clip below comes from George Becker. George is international President of the United Steelworkers of America. He asks the question that we all know the answer to. 9:30. Toledo Lounge. It’s your last chance to drink fermented grain products before Passover.

We make holes in teeth!

Raise your hand if you remember the Crest Team and the Cavity Creeps. We make holes in teeth! Are you gigling yet?

I don’t really have a lot to bather on about today…

… let’s see. Ah, music recommendation. Go and get Morphine’s The Night. It is an amazing sample of “low rock.” The first track, The Night, is a great mellow tune. The track Top Floor Bottom Buzzer is the perfect song to describe a party.

Oh yeah, I do have ranting material. Cute little Cuban boys get too much TV time. There are cute little kids getting killed in this country and around the world, but we don’t get news about them. We do get news about scary little white girls when they die, but then again, most little white girls’ mother’s don’t dress them up like dolls. Send the boy home with dad and be done with it.

In other news, it is IMF/World Bank time again. Want to smash up a Starbucks? Downtown is going to be a mess this week, thanks to thousands of protestors. There was once an IMF employee on the Tuesday Night List… interesting character. When it comes to that much money, no one is going to be happy. Forgiving Third World debt? Bono is sure into it.

Required reading: Read this linked article by Bill Joy. It is from the second most recent Wired magazine. This is a great piece on why humans might write themselves out of the future through missue of technology.

We make holes in teeth!

Buck Johnson’s Miracle Margaritas

Step right, ladies and gentlemen! Step up to the only product you will ever need. Ladies and gentlemen, Buck Johnson’s Miracle Margaritas are the only guaranteed beverage to cause insight, cure halitosis, improve poor performance, and make you more attractive to the opposite sex of fruit flies. Ladies and gentlemen, Buck Johnson has discovered what Ponce De Leon had been search for so many years… a beverage that is both refreshing and inebriating. Step right up!

I, as you probably know, like to announce the point at which something goes all wrong. For example, when Matthew Sweet loudly proclaims, “To the party bus!” and you’re standing next to him… that is where it all went wrong. Friday night, Mr. Sweet was in town playing at the 9:30 Club. Josh was kind enough to deal with TicketBastard and get us some tickets… so off we go, Viv, Brian, Fitz, Skippy, Dianne, and many more… off to see Matthew Sweet. While hanging around, I noticed one of Josh’s friends, Ron. Ron knows everyone… literally. At any rate, Ron’s boss, Sandy, is the AIDS czar for President Clinton; she gave Matthew Sweet and his band a tour of the Whitehouse on Friday. After the show, Ron and Sandy were heading back stage and Josh, Viv, and I came along. (We thought the others were with us, but they somehow vanished.)

Back stage we met, Buck Johnson (create of the Buck Johnson Self-Defense Through Garlic home video). Buck is Matthew Sweet’s keyboardist. We shot the shit with him for a while… he kept saying how good his margaritas were. Eventually, it was off to the tour bus to sample these fine beverages. Meanwhile, Matthew Sweet groupies kept coming on the bus to get various things autographed… Josh and I tried to sign someone’s CD, but they realized we weren’t part of the band. We did, however, get a set list and Buck Johnson’s home number in LA.

So to be honest, I didn’t feel that bad that I slept very late… after all, I partied like a rock star with rock stars!