Happy pup here, got my ticket for this years Warped Tour show. Lot’s of big names this year; Bad Religion, NOFX, Anti-Flag, Flogging Molly, Less Than Jake (of course!) and the young lads from Jersey (the new one) in the clip above, Streetlight Manifesto. That Moshcam site has a couple hundred live shows of various indie/punk/metal bands. Dig through the gig list and I’m sure you’ll find something fun to watch.
The other Jersey band that I dig,The Gaslight Anthem , but isn’t out with Warped has been playing big festivals lately including the Pinkpop Festival in the Netherlands. Check this link for a full set. I would have embedded the vid but the site is all in Dutch, oh well. Check out more full sets from Pinkpop 2009 including Franz Ferdinand, Snow Patrol, Madness, Me First and the Gimme Gimmes etc. Super high quality video too, probably not for the bandwidth impaired.
09/09/2003 Entry: “carpet of gold, carpet of bombs, carpet of gray wool"
I’ve been thinking for the last week or so about what I might have to say about the second anniversary of what has now become known simply as 9/11.
I think I really knew something was wrong even before that Tuesday. I wrote about the protests and near riot only blocks from my house when the Republican convention was here in Philadelphia in the summer of 2000. Bush got the nomination and in November was “elected” in one of the most polarized elections in our history.
I could go on a long vehement screed against the Bush administration but that would paint things black and white and nothing else. I won’t play to that ploy to keep people divided. As is often the case the murky gray is much more telling than the bright shiny periphery. Plus I’m not at all convinced Bush is the pinnacle of stupid and evil, he is only just bright enough to cope. He could never ever have gotten where he is on his own. Know your enemies.
I read this interesting op/ed at Truthout.org. The gist is the writer is in line at an office supply and sees a woman buying lots of what seems to be school supplies. She is buying materials for her Los Angeles school district first grade class knowing full well she will not be reimbursed. The writer’s response was “You mean we can spend $4 billion a month to keep the military in Iraq, but we can’t afford crayons for first-graders?” and he’s right. I would be willing to bet that you could easily pick any city or town in this country and find a carbon copy of this story. This isn’t Bill O’Reilly versus Al Franken, right versus left, conservative versus liberal, this is about the middle. This is about the small things and how they add up. There’s nothing glamorous about a first grader not getting some crayons. The money they spent landing the President on that aircraft carrier for a photo op could have bought the school district all the crayons they needed.
On Setptember 12 2001 I wrote “There have been a lot of September 11th’s in history. Things happened on those days too. Small things, insignificant things. Yesterday will always be remembered as the day things changed and things, no matter how insignificant, will never be the same.”
On Thursday this week around 10,000 babies will be born in this country. In eighteen years what kind of world will we have to offer them? Will we still be so glued to our tv’s that we will simply forget to fix anything? I think they will simply come and kill us while we sleep. Think about that one, what if 100,000 kids decided their parents had failed to give them a proper world in which to live their adult lives imposing a simultaneous death sentence on all. 200,000 dead parents. Now that’s the kind of righteous mindfuck that makes a bunch of Saudis with box cutters crashing a couple of planes look like a sunny day in the park.
Anybody else think we’ve got some serious work to do? Good, because those kids are going to want their crayons.
So I guess that once again I am back. I apologize for the site being completely offline for a bit. The feral monkeys I hired to do the accounting for the vast financial empire that is Hotmud.net forgot to pay the bill for the domain registration so about 3 or 4 of you saw a holding page for a week. Those responsible have been sacked. Unfortunately for the rest of you
out there I feel less bad about the twenty months or so without a post.
But hey I’m a really busy guy. Lots of places to do, people to go, smells to see...and speaking of incoherent gibberish, I got a strange drunk dial the other day from my infamous evil twin Skippy. It took quite a bit of deciphering of the voice mail just to figure out that it was him and in the end the rest of the message was just a recipe for Pruno. So I guess ‘ol Skip is once again chillin at Club Fed for weaving his Black Hat magic. Skateboarding is not a crime kids, but hacking investment banks most certainly is.
Happy belated 8th birthday to Hotmud.net. The remedial math and reading tutors last summer did the trick and we passed third grade this year. The Ivy League awaits.
___________________________________________________________
I accidentally caught the video for the title song from MCR’s new album on Gootube the other day. I’d seen MCR a couple of times opening shows for their fellow Jerseyites Bouncing Souls and thought they were okay screamo but I wasn’t all that impressed. My initial reaction was that the song sounded like Queen put through a Green Day filter. Well after a bit of digging the album was produced by none other than Rob Cavallo who also produced Green Day’s American Idiot. He also produced Less Than Jake’s Anthem. No wonder I have been listening to this on permanent loop for the last couple of days. Throw in the fact that they borrow heavily from Pink Floyd’s The Wall (yes this is a concept album) and I’m just hooked. It’s not too surprising that this album has generated about as much venom as it has praise. You know the jaded rock press, I think it was RS that called it “the best mid seventies album of 2006”. Kind of a back handed compliment but not so bad.
Of course if this is way too uncool for you then go back to listening to The Lawrence Arms‘ completely brilliant Oh Calcutta! This is probably the best punk album of 2006 and I get to finally see these guys this week. Look at me I’m cool and uncool at the same time.
Does anyone else think Mike Chertoff looks like warmed over death? As dead as Habeus Corpus no doubt. You can almost see the little horns sprouting on his forehead. Geez this guy makes my teeth itch. Eh, he’s not going places cuz he went to Hahvahd and not Yale. Gotta be S&B to be anyone these days.
My goodness, someone might actually get a fucking clue using teh intarweb. Who’d a thunk it. Oh wait, if they do get a clue we can just have them disappeared. That’ll be awesome dude! Just ask Jose Padilla. (Alright, JP may not be the most upstanding citizen of the U S of A, but he should deserve all the rights the rest of us have. Not only that, he just might walk because the government have a case about as thin as the Olsen Twin’s cumulative waistlines.)
This guy’s got two disasters under his belt in a few short years. The utterly charming “War on Terra” and the breathtaking “FEMA response to Hurricane Katrina”. We’re supposed to actually think he’s got a shred of credibility? We should listen to what he says?
Am I finally on someones list? Is this radical enough? Good.
Tonight here at Hotmud.net we offer another installment in the seemingly neverending series of pointless jabs at net culture we like to call Faux Porn Links™. Like a shockingly bad Mexican soap opera dubbed into Mandarin the FPL finds your proverbial “last nerve” and sinks in it’s fangs in an effort to hopefully enlighten your netburned minds. At the very least it may elicit a chuckle or two and dump you ususpecting in a place you’ve never been before. That’s never all bad now is it? Smoke and mirrors baby, use thier tools and words against them and they may eventually fall. So what if we’re trying to slay Mega-Mecha-Goliath with with a slingfull of atoms, is it any better to be complacent and/or complicit?
Our festivities tonight are brought to you by our newest sponsor, Jay’s Used Auto Parts and Bait Shack out on State Highway 57 in West Pensyltucky, Ohiovania. Are you having trouble finding hubcaps for your ‘78 Le Baron? Jay will probably have a set or he can get you one “real soon” if you know what I mean. Too many junkers up on blocks in front of the trailer? Jay’ll haul ‘em away and crush them down in the big machine out back and even throw in a complimentary box of nightcralwers with every purchase. Just don’t let him accidentally haul away your cousin Joey who’s been sleeping in the backseat for the last few months after his wife left him for the door to door sex toy salesman. That would be a tragedy of epic proportions without a doubt.
For all of the new folks out there I’ll quickly explain that the FPL is a deconstruction of the net’s culture of pornography that takes a link phrase from a real porn site and through the power of Google sends the surfer not a member’s login and 47 pop up advertisments but somewhere altogether “different”.
And as an added bonus tonight we have a Disturbing Search Request of such specificity that it astounds me. This was in the referals this past week and it has got to be the lengthiest search string I think has ever “hit” this site.
The string was:
“(insane or disturbing or shocking or absurd) and (remove or removed or removal or “cut off” or “sliced off” or “slice off") and (genitalia or genitals or penis or penises ) and (gallery or photos or images or pictures)”
Um, yeah. We’ve got lots of that.
I have some stuff planned for the site this week so stay tuned true believers.
Satan, oscillate my metallic sonatas --
Posted by— hotmud @ 09:58 PM EST
The front door slams on a suburban Detroit home.... From the kitchen we hear...
June: Ward honey, I think the Beaver’s home......
It’s The New New “Leave it to Beaver"
Starrring Hugh Beaumont, Barbara Billingsley, Tony Dow, and Marshall Mathers as The Beaver…
The Beav:Yo, what the fuck, why is everything in black and white?
Ward:Theodore! I’ve never heard such foul language out of so small a mouth. Color telvision is way too expensive ($1000 in 1954!) for my accountant’s salary.
The Beav:Yo pops, you best not be frontin’ or I’ll cap yo bitch ass. This can’t be the 1950’s, I wasn’t even born yet. But since this is my show...
The Beav pulls a Nine from his waistband and with a devilish grin proceeds to pistol whip Ward into unconsciousness.
Hearing the commotion June enters from the kitchen...
June:Theodore! What’s going on here?
The Beav:Shut it bitch, and quit calling me Theodore. Everyone knows my name is Slim. And while you’re at it come over here and give me some muthafuckin h*#!&d.
June:My god, I don’t even do that for your father!
The Beav pulls his Nine.
The Beav:It ain’t like freaky shit like this never happens yo. On your knees now!
Not wanting to get shot June reluctantly complies.
Wally enters from upstairs and is conspicously wearing an Insane Clown Posse t-shirt.
Wally:Hey, what’s all the fuss?
The Beav:ICP!, hey fuck you ya dumbass biatch. You better take off that shirt or it’ll be the one you wear in your casket!
Wally:Hey screw you mutherfuckin Slim Weenie, I’m a Juggalo to the core!
Crack! Crack! Wally slumps to the floor in a growing pool of blood.
The Beav:Not anymore.
June starts to gag on The Beav and stops to say…
June:Theodore, now you’ve shot your brother to death. I’m sorry but I’m not sure your father and I can get you out of this kind of trouble. We might have to call the pol....
The Beav:Shut up ho!
The Beav pistol whips June so hard her jaw is fractured and she falls into a bleeding heap next to the now semi conscious Ward. A swift kick to Ward’s kidneys is so painfull he returns to the relative bliss that is unconsciousness.
The Beav:Hey I kinda like this show, even if it is in black and white. I’d watch this show.
A siren is heard in the street outside. The Beav: Uh oh, looks like it’s time for a commercial!
Cut to Eminem…
Maybe we’re the lucky ones
‘Cause we can choose to turn it off
Maybe we’re the lonely ones
‘Cause we decide to shield what’s soft
I’m sure you’ll learn to dance and drink and dream
but you might still feel lost
And I see myself in you my friend
but I would break where you would bend
I’m calling on what you defend and tonight I won’t hold back
- The Loved Ones
Yes folks, it’s the “anniversary post”. So six years ago there was a little thing on the nets that called itself E/N. Ostensibly that stood for “Everything and Nothing” but it was more like “Entertainment and News”. I’d link to a history of E/N but they all seem to have gone the way of the internet dinosaurs. Lets just say that this was long before Blogger or Livejournal or god help us Myspace and Friendster. Many of the “free” webhosts of the day allowed the use of “backend “ CGI programs and some of the geekier netziens saw this as an opportunity for what I like to think of as nano scale self publishing. They posted things they were interested in or they posted angsty social commentary or quite often some good ‘ol pornography. There were intersite rivalrries and lots of virtual back patting too. Some people got way too big and nearly all have faded away. I’ll admit the heydey of this site was 2001-2003 when we had a crew of six voices all adding to the mix. A concurrent phenomenon known as weblogging eventually pushed the snotty nosed step sibling E/N into the dustbin of the internet. (Alright not quite all of them but I’m trying to be poetic and serious here, indulge me mmkay?)
In the summer of 2000 I was at a point in my life where I was ending old things and starting new ones. Six years later and six blocks north I sit here once again typing words into a box on a screen trying to make some sense of the world. Once again, I’m ending old thngs and starting fresh. Six years, that’s the cycle. I can see it clearly from a forty four year perspective. Two months in, and I’ve got nothing but time.
Oh yeah, I was having some renovations done at palatial Casa Hotmud. Things seem ...smaller though, and all my furniture is gone.
Damn this place is really empty. Oh okay there’s a slip of paper over there in the corner. Whaddaya know it’s Victoria’s Secret receipt. There’s something scrawled on the back in black finepoint marker.
Heh. It says:
This little mental image is causing scar tissue to
form at an unbelievable rate as my brain tries to
burn its image from my long term memory banks.
“...of course for the links I’ll probably substitute pictures of a Ron
Jeremy/Nell Carter/Gary Coleman bi-love threesome. “
In my handwriting it then says:
"Eeek, I kinda forgot about that one.
Um, sorry?
Did that sound insincere?
Eh, some days you just feel like Hannibal Lecter at a
Chilean plane crash and everything seems right in the
world.”
“If you were always happy you wouldn’t be a human
being, you’d be a game show host.”
Wow that is just way too weird. Oh yeah, I’m back I guess.
Got mucho to jabber on about, unfortunately most of you will never pass the stringent vetting process. Get over it babycakes.
Oh snap! Sprinextel gives an early xmas present to all those professional stalkers out there. Then they promptly fix this rather glaring blunder before things get too hairy.
Hello right hand? Yeah, this is left hand, what’cha doing?
Keep that dial tuned, I’ve got some retro hotmud for ya and an assload of links backing up my browser. Soonish.
Holy crap what kinda hellhole is this place? I was just over at the local Hooters, drinkin a frosty one and getting my grope on, if you know what I mean (wink). Would you believe there’s a daycare center right next door to the Hooters? I’m not kidding. Real classy suburbia yah got here bro. Oh yeah, H is off in the corner crying. I am Skippy’s complete lack of surprise. Something about a small tornado. 0h will ya shut up already! Next thing ya know he’ll be putting on, ho no you don’t, not Dashbored Confessional!!!!! Fucking EMO.
Where’d that cool chick go? She at least had some metal I could listen to and not some stupid fucking EMO whining. Hey I kinda dug her man, she was kinky. What the fuck did you do? Oh there he goes into the bedroom and he’s hiding under the bed. Good, now I can change the music. Hmmm I got some Lightning Bolt (Lightning Bolt are the proof of the existence of God) or maybe some Melvins. Oh wait there’s some Big Black mp3s sitting on H’s harddrive. Now that’s some Old School shit. I wish he had some Iron Maiden or Slaughter but he’s too erudite for that I guess.
Oh hold up kids, he’s now shrieking about something from under the bed. H shrieking in the bedroom is not something unusual, he might be super lame but one thing I gotsta give props to muh boy H, he’s a stud in the sack. It’s all about giving pleasure baby.
Okay I’ll bite, lemme go see what the fuck is going on. Hold on to your nads (if ya got em) for a sec......
Oh my sweet mother of all that is smelly and disgusting, yes I think thats a moldy and dessicated dog poopie!!!!!! Though it could be vomit too, it’s hard to tell.
Well, I’ve downloaded all of H’s passwords onto my USB thumb drive. I’m gonna head out for a bit of wardriving with my uber laptop, use someone elses network to loot Hotmud’s bank accounts again, and then it’s off to Atlantic City for some Texas Hold Em and some hookers. This place is fucking depressing man, get yourself some better digs and I might not fuck you over the next time I show my mug.
For some strange reason I feel like saying that “it’s only after we’ve lost everything that we are free to do anything”. Hey, that’s pretty fucking ironic.
(From under the bed)"No it’s not. It’s smug self awareness.”
Hey, who asked you Mr. Smarty Pants!
Okies kids, smoke a bowl or three for me, I feel like destroying something beautiful. I’m sooooo outta here.
Any of the old shoolers around here will remember my rogue personality shard “Skippy the Evil Twin”. He makes his appearance every so often and he generally flings his poo around like an orangutan with ADD, stinks up the place for a bit, and then disappears for months at a time. I’m pretty sure that some of his away time has been in prison. Bad home made tattoos and a funny hitch in the way he walks. Anyway so my buds at work have a little group going over at Rupert Murdoch’s little slice of indie street cred so I thought that maybe I’d join the fray but as I sat down to make an account Skippy snuck up behind me and hit me in the back of the head with a thirty pound sturgeon. Thank goodnes it wasn’t frozen. While I was out cold Skippy decided that it would be “funny” to try and make the ugliest Myspace page ever.
Of course I have no clue what password he chose so I hope the AIA crewe don’t care that their friend’s Myspace is hyper vomit inducing. Skippy’s a pretty elite white hat so he may be able to crack the secuity around here, believe me you’ll know it when he shows up.
I have a bunch of stuff to post this week including a whole mess of fun links so stay tuned.
