An example of why everyone should read Pitchfork

Britney Spears [ft. Madonna]: "Me Against the Music"
Oops! Looks like it's all over for your girlfriend, and it's not just 'cause her fanbase has grown up-- Britney's been accosting all of us too fucking long with her Disney-fried, sub-Abba teen-pop, and now, like the awesomely savage barbarians we are, we want blood. Even her record label seems to want to end it here: they've tossed her "Me Against the Music", one of the greatest disasters in pop music history, as a surefire ship-sinker.
An abomination even by Spears' standards, "Me Against the Music" is rank enough that last weekend's SNL audience was as reluctant to applaud for it as they were to acknowledge Jimmy Fallon's mock-Asian accent. The ridiculously defiant title ambitiously pits her-- not a typo-- against the music, suggesting a final showdown in which Britney suits up to, once and for all, eliminate that colossal aural evil by turning it on itself. It almost works: I think I felt a ripple in the fabric of sound around the 3:30 mark. There are so many subtle intricacies here conspiring to form the ultimate musical horror: the frogthroat effect buried at the bottom of the a capella intro, the blink-and-miss-it prechorus lyric "chic-a-tah" (seriously! like four times!), the orchestra hits slamming like a Fox news update, and-- okay, this one isn't so subtle-- Madonna.

The Material Mom-- desperately paddling to float her own tanking career after bombing with American Life and her recent "Into the Groove" rehash-- follows a dialogue with Britney that actually tops Wendy & Lisa's intro to Prince's "Computer Blue" for most heated inane Lesbian-themed discourse in a song ever. The breakdown is shameless, and not just from the obvious sex-sells angle, as a sultry (did I mention 40-year-old?) Madonna pants, "Hey Britney, you say you wanna lose control/ Come over here, I got somethin' to show ya/ Sexy lady, I'd rather see you bare your soul."

"Me Against the Music" is a true feat: it not only hideously topples "Lucky" in terms of sheer patience-testing, but actually ranks, with ease, among the all-time most devastating pop chart embarrassments: Bobby Brown's "On Our Own" from Ghostbusters II; C + C Music Factory's "Things That Make You Go Hmm" and Twisted Sister's cover of "Leader of the Pack". If there's ever a hall of fame for American culture's laughable nadirs, this one'll have its own room. --Ryan Schreiber

The holidays aren't far off

I finally decided what I want for Christmas

Man, what a treasure chest!

New Job

My new job as a real actual living breathing librarian requires me to do a book talk at least twice a year. As I understand it our manager is one of the few in the county that actually requires her librarians to do book talks. My co-workers seem to be split in half in their enthusiasm for book talks but they do them and, judging from the one I have sat in on so far, do a good job. I do not enjoy talking in front of people but I am going to have a few months to prepare for my first book talk.
I'm not complainging, I knew this requirement when I accepted this position.

I am reading a book suggested by my boss and I think I'll use it in my first book talk. Yesterday I spent some desk time searching for articles and biographical information on the author. Yes, that's right, I got paid to do literary research. How cool is that?

Part of the problem

I once wrote about sitting on a seawall in Okinawa, Japan while drinking beer and then smashing the empt beer bottles on the giant concrete jacks that break up the surf. I just found this picture from 2002 where locals were cleaning up around the seawall. I feel terrible.

German civilian victims of WWII

Probably only Tom will be interested in this story but I found in fascinating.

Jumping on the revealing post bandwagon

I knew they were aliens because they talked and I could almost visualize the triangles and wavy lines of their speech. I was 10 and 4/12 years old and I was riding my bike really fast through my neighborhood because there were kids with sticks trying to crack my young innocent skull. In fact, I was riding so fast I didn't see the spaceship in front of me and I rode ride up the ramp and into the bowels of the ship.

I don't remember what the aliens looked like. All I do know for sure is what they didn't look like. They did not look like frogs, hotdogs, roses, Rod Carew or any of the Beastie Boys. They didn't probe me either but they did test my eyesite. The strangest thing to me was the apparent excitement they displayed when I crossed my eyes when they brought an object close to my nose. They made me do it so much that I got a headache and started to cry.

After a couple of hours they let me out in a park a few blocks from my home. The kids that were chasing me earlier were there throwing rocks at seagulls. As soon as they saw me stumble out of the bushes they chased me down and beat me up. The fuckers.

Thanks but no thanks, you prick

I don't know of anything that displays how sleazy some people are better than all the junk emails I have been receiving that claim to offer ways to avoid...junk emails. Fucking assholes.

Who hasn't been there?

It sucks but keep smiling, bubba.

World Series

I am half watching the World Series right now and the shots they show of all the celebrities in the crowd amuse me. Nothing will ever top the time they showed Clarissa Flockhart back when she was the center of an anorexia controversy. Each time they showed her on camera they were sure to do it when she was eating.

I have a bobblehead goth girl