Sure, there may be nothing going on, but as the most venerable and vaunted Newspaper brand in the world, you’re not supposed to admit it with a homepage picture and caption like this:
Monthly Archives: July 2009
Does anything beat a good dummy fall? We tend to think not. Enjoy the comedic stylings of the Sports and Shorts crew, that up-and-coming group of young laugh makers from that burgeoning hotbed of comedy, Hampton Roads, VA. Instead of spending their weekends and free time in search of some semblance of female intimacy, these young men videotape each other in a effort to make you laugh: So, appreciate their efforts. Kudos, gentleman, on a job well done.
Dear Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros,
By way of introduction my name is Zach and I was at the free concert you gave at the Hammer Museum last night. It was truly a cracking show. Me and my friends had a wonderful time and were quite thrilled with the energy and fun you guys managed to exude from the stage. Anytime you can get kids in LA dancing and/or making any kind of noise at a concert, you know you are doing something right.
Which is all well and good, but it has little to do with why I write you today. You see, during that last song there you invited everyone on stage to come dance and hang out, an offer I of course took you up on. As I was crawling up on the stage with the rest of the unwashed masses, I stumbled across a tambourine that was lying stage right, where the foppish, curly haired chap with the trumpet had been all night. Not wanting it to get trampled and seeing a rare opportunity to participate in the LA music scene, I picked the bastard up and began banging it in rhythm with your song as best I could (that fucker must’ve weighed 10 pounds, which made it more difficult to keep the beat than it might otherwise have been). It was a heady few minutes there; I was really getting in the groove.
Anyway, the song ended and it was time to go. I went to put the tambourine back more or less where I found it and noticed a large whole through the skin of it. “Jesus,” I thought. “I couldn’t have done that, I could barely swing the thing, let alone hit it hard enough to puncture it. It must’ve gotten trampled by some other member of this staggering rabble before I picked it up.” So I put the thing back on an amp and got the hell out of there. I was sure that I was on film banging the thing, and the last thing I needed that Thursday night was to be set upon by a dozen pissed off gypsy troubadours for breaking a fucking tambourine. I hope you understand this line of thinking.
At any rate, I just wanted to say sorry about the tambourine, especially since you guys put on such an outstanding show. I feel like you let me in the house and I shit on the rug. I know you guys are headed out on tour now, but hopefully it won’t prove to expensive/inconvenient to repair. As repentance I purchased your album off iTunes, and will aggressively promote your outfit to anyone to whom I can. Best of luck on the tour, and again, sorry if I broke your tambourine.
PS- Turn the mic up on the females.
Saturn is in it’s apogee and as Mars completes it’s regression in the third quarter of a waning Gibbous moon, our secret mystical diviner here at Sweet Merciful Crap have the following insights about your life. -Ed.
Sagittarius- Go fuck yourself.
Capricorn- The Futures Market is where it’s at for you this month. Go long on sorghum. Way long on sorghum.
Leo- This will be a good time for you to kill animals, wild or domestic. Don’t delay.
Aquarius- Take a chance on laundering those Nigerian lottery winnings you keep getting emails about. Sure it doesn’t look reputable, but who knows?
Pisces- You smack of incompetence. Not much to be done about that.
Virgo- That nagging paranoia that follows you everywhere is well-felt. Everyone is out to get you. Especially the bankers.
Aries- Who the hell is an Aries anyway? It sounds made up.
Libra- You are in for a very happy month, everyone likes you. Maybe a good time to buy that blender you’ve had your eye on.
Taurus- Time to get up off the couch and onto the recliner.
Cancer- If you’ve been thinking about defrauding the government, you are on the right track.
Scorpio- Kill firefighters.
Gemini- Lock yourself in your room with a pile of cocaine and pump Grandmaster Flash continuously. Call it good.
A recent trip to the west coast opened my eyes to the extent of California’s car culture. I expected to see super cars, classic cars and custom cars, as well as more than a few vanity plates. Of course there were plates with things like CSHFLW, 2NDWIFE, POMPOMS, XLR82XS, but it was the plates that had symbols of hands and hearts on them that caught my eye—and got the gears of mischief churning.
Turns out the hand and heart are among a few symbols Californians may choose to put on their license plates to show their support for children. I’m not sure this is what they had in mind. These are currently available from the California DMV so anybody with a California License and a new car sans tags should consider spending the extra $80 bucks and give one of these vanity plates a shot.
There is one for the hander outer (everyone likes a giver):
The employees at the Post Office in Lawrence, NJ (08648) got a extra lunch break today. It was just one of those days in sleepy Lawrenceville, New Jersey. The kind of day where you might buy a Trentonian from a machine at the Post Office, but leave your package behind. One not-so-sleepy resident may have been a bit on edge when she called the local police yesterday.
A little after two in the afternoon someone noticed a package on top of a newspaper machine—at the Post Office—and called police. Police rushed to the scene to investigate the package and quickly closed off the street in front of the Post Office. Taking no risks, the Lawrence Police were quick to involve the Fire Department as well as the State Police. In a strong show of force, the three departments investigated this package on a newspaper machine—at the Post Office.
The cavalry arrived on scene, and decided to allow the folks living along the closed street across from the Post Office to remain ignorant to the man in armor and a helmet carrying a machine on a tripod.
Once the machine was in place, the man in armor ducked behind the corner of the brick Post Office wall and pressed some buttons. Apparently satisfied, he collected his tripods and headed to an unmarked Suburban. A conference at the tailgate ensued, somewhat reminiscent of an NFL play that has just been reviewed. The armored man emerged and walked towards the package.
This time, with the addition of a box cutter and latex gloves, the man in armor took cover behind the newspaper stand and slit open the package. He poked around and then casually picked up the package and returned to his Suburban. Within minutes the caution tape was down the police were dispersing. I asked a fireman who was tearing down the tape the package was just cookies or something and he said, “Pretty much, pretty much.”
An hour and a half after it began, the liberty pass expired for the Post Master General’s Lawrence Army.
At least on radio. We’ve spent plenty of time highlighting some of the worst ads out there (the Marines ad featuring the Osprey, the Camel Snus bar napkins and the FDR Camel ad), so we thought it only fair to profile one of the best ads. This being the season for baseball on the radio, it is fitting and right to bring you one of my favorites.
There’s an old advertising adage—Sex Sells. And it does, but it’s hard to sell sex in a radio spot. This is why Taco Bell tapped Philadelphia Phillies and WPHT color man Larry Andersen to read their latest spot for the Bacon Cheesy Potato Burrito. In a stroke of genius, the marketing department at YUM! Brands decided the 56 year old Bacon-Lover could draw out the inner Bacon-Lover in all of us. Listen to the 30 second ad and you’ll count Bacon mentioned seven times; that is once every 4.3 seconds. Suffice it to say, they had me at “Hey fellow bacon lovers.”