APFFL Week 8: Ocho Stinko

So here we are again.

Another weekend in our storied AP Fantasy Football League and we're all a little wiser, a little stronger and a little more into listening to Andrew Bird (in my case, at least).

Unfortunately, I've gotta make this an abridged version of the rundown, because I leave for L.A. in 23 hours and just this instant remembered that I'll need to pack tonight.

So let's get right to it:

Dandy Van Slykes (104) def. Chicago Quails (87)
I seriously have no idea how this happened. Nobody could've expected me to take out one of the top teams in the league in Chris' Quails, but, hey, fantasy football is a fickle, fickle mistresss (the third "s" is for "sorry I'm so awesome, Chris."

Milwaukee Milkmen (101) def. Venice Marmots (83)
Laura and the Marmots put their faith in Bills quarterback Trent Edwards and, like Bills fans everywhere, she had to stare the stark face of defeat in the eye. Yeah yeah, I know the Bills are in first place or something. But it didn't matter because Zach had Brian Westbrook and his 3,390 rushing yards.

Cleveland Hasselhoffs (83) def. Awesometown Unicorns (55)
Against his best efforts, Zak and his Hasselhoffs managed to snag a win. If Cam had played Kurt Warner instead of Tony "Yep, I'm still injured but still exceptionally pretty" Romo, she mighta made it a contest.

San Diego Whale Vaginas (81) def. Rambunctious Coons (77)
Ronny and team Rambunctious obviously didn't get word that RB Larry Johnson wouldn't be playing because he can't stop beating people up in the real world. That definitely hurt him in his bid to knock the much-vilified Scott Heisel from the medal podium. Both teams are now sitting at 4-4 now.

Team Marcella (38) def. Team Exitonefiftytwo (27)
It's crazy how low-scoring teams always end up to play each other. I mean, Ben and Exitonefiftytwo had a 6-1 record coming into this week, yet Heather's 38 point output was enough to add a second loss to his total.

I Hate California (77) def. 85 Mafia (64)
Finally. I can say it. Katie managed to eek out her first victory of the season, and it came against Jen who just got her first win last week. I'm almost certain that Katie hasn't looked at her team in about two weeks since she's possibly the third or fourth most rampant Steelers fan in the world and she hasn't started any Steelers since their bye week. But her JV team was able to rally together and throw a win in her record--which she'll notice sometime in mid-December when she decides to check her team again.


Sorry again for the brevity, guys.
But I got socks to pack.
And before that: socks to find.

Precariously near the table's edge

So this is kind of a very special blog.

I know this has absolutely nothing to do with music and not even anything to do with fantasy football.

But I received some sad news this evening and I figured that I would completely exploit my blog as a means of catharsis.

My family dog Benji, who I've known since I was 14, passed away.

I don't know if many of you are aware, but I actually got my start as a professional journalist by writing obituaries for my local newspaper. Yes, it is as glamorous as it sounds.

Although I swore I'd never write another obituary when I moved on from that job four years ago, I kinda feel like I have to write one more.

Benjamin "Benji" Karan

Benjamin "Benji" Karan, 16, passed away Tuesday, October 28, 2008, in Pennsylvania, after a lengthy illness.

Benji was a Cocker Spaniel, although when strangers would inquire as to his breed, the eldest Karan son would often reply, "Yellow" (because he never really delved into Benji's ethnicity because he didn't want to pry into his personal life).

In Benji's younger days, he was very active in his community--barking at nearly every stranger within a four-yard radius. He enjoyed chasing most smaller animals, pooping in the least opportune places possible and squeezing through holes beneath the fence. He was also an avid ball-catcher, which in his later years, gave way to watching people throw balls in the air for him to catch, not moving an inch and then staring at the thrower with ambivalence.

Benji was a compassionate and loving dog, and throughout his first 10 years, one couldn't enter a room he was in without instantly discovering tiny paw prints on their shirt. He was a great listener and sat up many late evenings when whichever Karan brother returned home that night lamenting the tearful loss of some girl whose name they likely don't even remember now.

His favorite thing, however, was circling the dining room table (quite vocally) during meals, locked in an eternal struggle to find table scraps.

Benji withstood the constant addition of more animals to his household and, although often provoked by belligerent kittens, never resorted to violence. Benji was a pacifist, or at least too busy thinking about table scraps to fight.

He is survived by the Karan parents, their three sons and his reluctant life-partner Smawlz ("Kitty") the cat. He was preceded in death by Margaret "Maggie" Karan the cat, who on the surface didn't care for Benji, but underneath, held a lifelong respect for him and an admiration for his ability to get pretty much whatever he wanted from the Karan matriarch.

He will be missed more than he ever could have realized--mostly because he would likely be too preoccupied staring at the piece of pizza perched precariously near the table's edge.

In lieu of flowers, please donate table scraps to the nearest puppy. Yeah, it might seem like the wrong thing to do, but a few french fries here and there are a fair exchange for a lifetime of dedication and unconditional love.

I know I'm kind of peculiar.

I know I'm kind of peculiar.

I realize that normal people don't forget to eat for entire days.


Clearly, I'm clueless at life.

However, I think I've got a vague idea what I'm doing when it comes to music.

Aside from a few glaring sore thumbs (Chevelle among them), I think I can typically tell a good band when I hear them.


So why were there only a handful of people at the Life And Times show here in Cleveland on Friday? That band is ridiculously awesome. Am I crazy?
(Don't answer.)
(It's a rhetorical question.)
(Okay, fine. I'm crazy.)


Still, I'm always astounded that certain bands aren't more popular.

So I dug through my CDs to come up with 6 bands past and present who I think deserve(d) a little more attention....

The Life And Times

This three-piece was founded by Allen Epley--who knows a thing or seven about underrated bands, since he came from now-defunct K.C. math-rock geniuses Shiner. When Allen came back with the similarly angular yet overwhelmingly vast-sounding Life And Times, I thought for sure I was gonna all of a sudden have to stand in the back of packed venues just to see them. But three EPs, a full-length and a seriously entertaining DVD later, I still coulda reached out and easily pulled Allen's pedal board out from under him. Of course, I would never. But I coulda.


You need: Suburban Hymns

Viva Voce

This husband and wife duo have seen a lot of love from advertising execs. But not a ton from us people with souls. You can hear Viva Voce's lush brand of electronic/orchestral/Postal Servicey indie rock in commercials for Microsoft, Motorola, Pontiac and (yes) All detergent. They've even toured with Jimmy Eat World. So why is it that I was able to find their 2004 effort The Heat Can Melt Your Brain last weekend in the $2 bin at the used CD store? Lunacy. That's why.

You need: Lovers, Lead The Way

The Jazz June

If you've got the rhythms of every Braid song ingrained in your temporal lobe and you find yourself constantly lamenting the lack of bands who sound like the Promise Ring, I have no pity on you--unless you already own everything by the Jazz June. They were under the radar during their heyday and pretty much off any radar when they went on hiatus. They've been playing out again over the past couple of years, and if you happen to see their name on a flier near you, you need to follow it.

You need: The Medicine

Matchbook Romance

I get a lot of shit for championing Matchbook Romance's second and final full-length Voices. Apparently I stayed on the bandwagon one album too long. But I don't give an eff. That just left more hyper-melodic, ultra-dramatic anthems for me. But I guess making an album that only one potentially crazy person likes isn't enough to keep a band together. And you people made them break up in 2007. For what? Feist?

You need: Voices

Jump, Little Children

Okay, so I kind of get why Jump, Little Children weren't that huge. Meandering cello and lyrics that are actually poetic isn't everybody's favorite. (If it were, then explain Breaking Benjamin.) Still, this mainstream glossy yet artsy sort of precursor to the likes of Anathallo deserved more than just "cult" status before their 2005 break-up. And nobody will ever think of a better band name than this. So just stop.

You need: Vertigo

Far-Less

There's just no excuse for this one, everybody. Far-Less are easily the best band you've been missing out on. And you really don't have an excuse, because they've sounded like three different bands over their career--starting out with pretty standard screamo, then morphing into a melodic/occasionally screamo unit with more than a few similarities to Thrice, and then settling on their current incarnation--a scream-free outfit with a definite Muse vibe. Whatever era you land on, you're sure to thank me.

I won't say anything (to your face) about how late to the party you were.

You need: Turn To The Bright EP

Why I Couldn't Blog Today

So I've been trying to blog for the past 22 hours.

But every time I sit down and start to write, something inevitably occurs that forever alters my plan.

And now I don't have enough time to adequately provide the exceptional witticism and clumsy sexiness that my readers demand of me.

So here, instead, are all the reasons I couldn't blog today (starting with last night).

8:49 p.m. Thursday - A brand new episode of The Office. I'm useless for an hour before and up to to six hours after seeing Jenna Fischer.

10:02 p.m. Thursday - A brand new episode of It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia. (Big TV night.)

12:31 a.m. Friday - Sleepytime jubilee.

10:45 a.m. Friday - The nonstop barrage of stories I have to proofread 32 times commences.

10:47 a.m. Friday - I cry a little.

12:36 p.m. - Scott Heisel has quite a few thoughts he'd like to share on last night's Office and It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia.

2:02 p.m. - Editorial meeting to gauge where we are with everything that's due; I count the number of times the f-word is used, but stop counting after Pettigrew begins to speak. (Also, he told me to hype up the fact that his blog on Monday will likely be of the "doozy" variety.)

3:05 p.m. - Heisel won't shut up about the calzone I owe him from last week's lunch, so we make the trip to the pizza place.

4:02 p.m. - More proofreading.

4:21 p.m. - More crying.

5:03 p.m. - I'm suddenly aware of my own mortality. I can't really concentrate.

5:52 p.m. - Pettigrew engages me in a discussion of the proper way to spell the word "ca-ca" (as in what a 4-year-old says they have to do in the potty.)

6:12 p.m. - Have to turn in the last of my stories before the weekend, otherwise our production director will eat my soul on Monday.

6:47 p.m. - Lucy, the adorable puppy of our marketing director Dawn, gets a little scared and pees on my floor.

6:49 p.m. - I tell Lucy that it happens to the best of us.

7:09 p.m. - I gotta take off to go see the Life And Times.

7:10 p.m. - It occurs to me that all of the reasons why I couldn't blog would actually make up a blog on its own.

APFFL Week 7: The Perfect Storm

I don't know what technically delineates a nightmare from a dream.
I assume it's the presence of one or more zombies and/or the lack of pants in a crowded place.

Either way, the other night I woke up in a cold sweat after what I consider to be a recurring nightmare.

For reasons not entirely clear to me, I was supposed to suit up to play a game for the Pittsburgh Steelers. (Even more unclear to me is why I was filling in for George Clooney.) But for the entire duration of the dream, I'm running around the stadium concourse in my uniform (that says Clooney on the back) trying to find my way onto the field. Before I know it, the game ends and I get stuck in the stadium crowd exiting into the parking lot.

What does it all mean?
I think it's obvious: It's time for this week's AP Fantasy Football League wrap-up (also: I am crazy).

I'm gonna keep it a little quick this week on account of I have a zillion things due in the next few days (also: I am crazy).

Dandy Van Slykes (94) def. Milwaukee Milkmen (69)
Whoa. Who saw this one coming? I managed a pretty breezy win over Zach and his otherwise unbeatable Milkmen. Everyone laughed when I drafted the Colts backup running back Dominic Rhodes. But after Joseph Addai went down, opening the door for Rhodes and his 23 points (!) this weekend, who do you suppose is laughing the loudest, most self-satisfied, smug laugh ever? That's right.

Rambunctious Coons (80) def. Venice Marmots (75)
So I'll admit, I haven't been able to be as active of a participant in this league's banter as I would like. I think it's sort of how Tiny Toons was called Steven Spielberg Presents Tiny Toons Adventures. It was like, yeah, maybe Spielberg threw a couple dollars at what seemed like a decent idea, but I kinda doubt he ever showed up for a production meeting. Luckily, Laura and her Marmots have taken on the role of instigator and message board maven in my absence. Unluckily, however, she shoulda played Santana Moss this week and she wouldn't have lost by five points to Ronny.

85 Mafia (99) def. Awesometown Unicorns (42)
Would you look at that. All of a sudden, copy editor Jen looks like a contender. I'm pretty sure she hadn't scored 100 points combined coming into this week, and she nearly got to the century mark in one game alone. She did pick the right week to play Cam--who had five players score zero or negative points. But I'm not gonna tarnish this win for her.

San Diego Whale Vaginas (82) def. Team Marcella (59)
Okay. I'm pretty certain that Heather has taken control of the once "Ghost Team." She's made a couple good moves in the past week or so, but came up just short against Captain Disaster. The saddest part of the story: She had a whopping 62 points sitting on her bench.

Team Exitonefiftytwo (98) def. Cleveland Hasselhoffs (43)
Zak promised me that he'd actually pay attention this week and field the best team of Hasselhoffs possible. Unfortunately, it's difficult to tell if he did. Ben First Place beat him without really ever breaking a sweat.

Chicago Quails (94) def. I Hate California (59)
Chris and the Quails are formidable. There's no doubting that. But if Katie had set her lineup this weekend instead of gallivanting around Disneyland with ghost mice, she would've likely come away with her first victory. In a way, it's too bad that Jen won this week, otherwise we would have had a matchup of the winless this weekend, since she and Katie are up against each other. I, for one, will be glued to my TV.


In the meantime, if you've got any theories on what my Steelers/inadequacy nightmare meant, I'm open to some free dream interpretations...

Tim the editor.

Screw My Name Is Earl.

The funniest show on television is the Presidential debates.

(The Vice Presidential debates are funny, too, but they're funny like Two And A Half Men, where you laugh a little, but underneath it all, you kinda feel embarrassed for everyone involved.)

But the season finale of the Presidential debates had me in stitches.

McCain is so convincing as the cranky, potentially insane elderly neighbor.



And Obama is just so damn sassy.


Nobody, however, could have seen the introduction of the new character--Joe the Plumber. He's the guy from Toledo who McCain stood up for 26 times, although all he really did was expose Joe the Plumber's extensive fabric of lies (he's not really a plumber and his name isn't actually Joe. It's Sam. But at this point, I think we should all consider it a victory that he at least actually exists).

McCain was pretty concerned that under Obama's plan, "Joe" wouldn't get an adequate solution to the issue important to him--(aside from the pathological lying) higher taxes for small businesses.

It got me to thinking.

What if McCain had instead decided to fight for me--Tim the Editor--and the issues that are important to me?

The debate would've been decidedly different as these questions would've been asked:

1. How would you solve the crisis that shorter concert-goers face when their view is constantly blocked by obscenely tall people?
It's an epidemic. You fight your way into the venue early enough to stake a claim on one of the only spots in the club where you'll have an unobstructed view of the stage (not counting the bassist, who for all intents and purposes here, is negligible). You stand there through three questionable opening acts, refusing to move for even much-needed trips to the restroom. And then four minutes before the band you came to see take the stage, the single tallest person in the place (usually at least 6'9" and ALWAYS wearing a white baseball cap) decides to park directly in front of you. How, as president, would you cease this from occurring?

2. Can I get something in return for paying my student loans? I mean aside from the degree?

I literally just made my monthly $231 payment for an education I barely remember even receiving. (I brought that up to the student loan lenders before and they said that was likely due to the alcohol.) Still, $231 that seemingly just floats into thin air sure coulda came in handy this month in the form of groceries or a down payment on a sweet jet ski. I remember hearing in college (vaguely) that one class on one day costs as much as a concert ticket. And we're not talking about tickets to a Breathe Carolina show here. We're talking about tickets to U2 with openers the Police and Optimus Prime. What would you offer me as president? I will accept Taco Bell coupons.

3. Why can't Lost be on all the time?
Look. It's a good effing show. On the real. Let's get moving on this.

4. Does your budget account for funding a full-length by One Day As A Lion?


Cause damn.
It better.

5. Some of us have difficulty thinking of interesting blog topics. Under your plan, will I become interesting?
Maybe this has less to do with implementing ideas for me to write about. Maybe it has more to do with mapping out a two-year plan to make my actual life eventful enough that I've got a wealth of topics to choose from. If this is the case, I have some suggestions for what I'd like to see happen: I'd like a sweet jet ski.

APFFL Week 6: You're a legend, Dave

When I woke up this morning and realized that, sadly, my dream about winning six free sandwiches at Subway wasn't reality, a wave of sadness washed over me.

I stumbled into my hallway after stepping in one of the four obligatory piles of vomit that my cat feels necessary to deposit every night (she has self-image problems), dressed and considered staying home. Tuesdays mean production meetings at AP and production meetings at AP mean heartache and the very real chance that a chair will be thrown.

But I sucked it up and stepped outside my door.
And I saw this.

That's when I remembered.
Scott Heisel lost in the AP Fantasy Football League.

Here's how the match ups played out:

Dandy Van Slykes (107) def. Rambunctious Coons (94)
I finally did something right. The difference in this game (aside from the fact that Ronny's quarterback Brett Favre was preoccupied that he was gonna miss Andy Rooney on 60 Minutes), was that I had the brilliant vision to snag Eagles stud running back Brian Westbrook's understudy Correll Buckhalter a week ago when Westbrook revealed his true, fragile self. Buckhalter broke out with 23 points--enough to let me coast over Ronny's admittedly far superior team. Of course, it was the only correct decision I made all week (I later parked my car here).

Cleveland Hasselhoffs (50) def. Venice Marmots (38)
I really do feel for Laura and her Marmots. First, because she labors under the delusion that Eli Manning is an adequate quarterback and not at all a 7 year-old who got lost in a mall, drafted by the Chargers (and then traded to the Giants) and then told to play football real good so nobody will squish his turtle. And now Laura put up only about three dozen points against AP's own Zak Bristo--who spent the weekend on business in New York City and who barely remembers he has a fantasy team in the first place. Sorry, Laura. On paper, you had the better team. But we don't play on paper--we play on internets.

Chicago Quails (85) def. San Diego Whale Vaginas (53)
Here it is: The matchup that vanquished evil forever. Chris and the Quails managed to hand Scott Heisel a pretty convincing loss, thereby bringing light to all the land. Scott, like Laura, met his demise largely thanks to the New York Football Giants, who seemed to have trouble comprehending the oblong shape of footballs. Chris' team was ridiculous, as per usual, and at this point, I think the rest of the season is just a formality. But I don't care if Chris wins. We all have a common enemy.

Milwaukee Milkmen (96) def. I Hate California (69)
It's really not even funny anymore. Barring some sort of epic, unprecedented comeback, Katie's never going to win a game. Ever. Never ever. Never ever never. Once again, she just had the misfortune to play one of the few teams in the league that she scored less than on that particular week. She woulda beat at least four other teams. But, of course, she had to play Zach (he of the 5-1 record) and he, of course, didn't have any trouble nearing 100 points yet again. Meanwhile, Katie's long since lost the desire to even log in to her team. But the real victim here is me, since I'm running out of creative ways to keep saying the same thing every week.

Awesometown Unicorns (83) def. Team Marcella (60)
I can't be sure, but I'm pretty sure our ghost team is no longer dead. Team Marcella apparently has its owner back, and sadly, if Heather had played Thomas Jones instead of Ahmad Bradshaw (ahem, a Giant), she would've beaten Cam and the British Unicorns. Now Heather is sitting at an even 3-3 record. I think next year, I might just take the first month off too, and maybe I'll be a contender.

Team Exitonefiftytwo (98) def. 85 Mafia (23)
Look, Ben. I know you'd probably like to hear a little bit about your awesome team here. And the thing is, I'll be pretty amazed if you lose again this year. However, when your opponent manages to score only 23 points, I'm kinda legally obligated to focus on that. I'm gonna say two words I say every week in this blog: "Poor" and "Jen." Once again, she ended the week winless and with a team score that was less than that of several individual kickers. To be fair, she did leave three lineup spots open. But two of the players she did play scored negative points. So maybe next week, she'd be better off not starting any players? It's just a strategy, Jen. Controversial? Yes. Illogical? Well...

That's all I want.

So, wow.
I'm a little intimidated after what proved to be a batch of insanely flattering comments for my last blog.
Which is good. Cause I depend on the affirmation of you guys to keep me from losing interest in my own blog and instead using my free time on something as futile as, i dunno, doing some push-ups or paying my bills on time.
However, as anyone who knows me will tell you, I'm not so awesome.
In fact, to prove it, I came up with a list of dudes I'd rather be.
(This isn't some subtle cry-for-help ploy for attention or anything. It's a blatant cry-for-help ploy for attention or anything.

1. Bret McKenzie from Flight Of The Conchords

First of all, if you've never heard of Flight Of The Conchords--the New Zealand musical comedy duo who make Tenacious D look as legit as Breaking Benjamin--by all means, stop reading whatever ridiculousness I'm spouting off about and YouTube the hell out of them. When I asked myself who I'd like to be, it was immediately clear to me that I wanted to be either Bret (on the left) or Jemaine Clement (not on the left). Although I'm fairly certain the Jemaine is the funnier of the two, I had to go with Bret cause he's really kinda the complete package. He's got the accent, he's got the musical chops and he can grow a fierce beard. Actually, at this point, I'd settle just to be a guy who can grow a beard.

2. Chris Cornell circa 1999

There was a pocket of years right before the new millennium when Chris Cornell was between fronting the criminally underrated Soundgarden and eventually fronting the criminally horrible Audioslave. When I was a kid, Cornell was Gerard Way and Keith Buckley and Anthony Julius Green simultaneously. During this time, he released a solo record called Euphoria Morning that I'm pretty sure only Mike Shea and I ever bought (Pettigrew does like the song "Flutter Girl"). He cut his hair, put a shirt on, adopted this sort of pseudo-mysterious persona and had what I thought would be a long, fruitful solo career ahead of him. But then the guys from Rage Against The Machine called...

Still, I prefer this Cornellian era more than even his heyday.

I think you'll see why:

3. John Krasinski

Before you say it: Yes, I am actually capable of differentiating between fiction and real-life. I realize that John Krasinski ("Jim" on The Office) isn't really engaged to Jenna Fischer or "Pam." But I'm a realist. I don't think I'd ever actually be capable of snagging Jenna Fischer or her fictional alter-ego. But I'd still give about $473,238 just to be the guy who gets to pretend he's engaged to her.

Sigh.

Okay, one more for the road:

4. Any young, attractive back-up quarterback in the NFL

What do the Browns' Brady Quinn and the Cardinals' Matt Leinart do on Sundays? They get up, look themselves in the mirror and tell themselves that today might actually be the day--the day they justify their existence and actually step into a game. They apply face black which will only mock them five hours later when they remove it after spending the entire game on the sidelines. Coach says they still have to observe. They make about 42 gazillion bucks just to stand around in shoulder pads and they spend the other six days during the week trying to make their beard stubble just the right length to offset their weekly emasculation. But again: 42 gazillion bucks to do that. Seriously, NFL: I'll do it for 20 bucks and a gift certificate to Ponderosa.

5. Dustin Kensrue

Look. Forget that the Thrice frontman possesses my favorite voice in music. Instead, focus on the fact that the guy can be curled up in a ball on the ground against two cement walls, gently cradling an acoustic guitar and gazing pensively off into the distance.

And he looks like that's pretty much exactly where he should be.

That's all I want.

(And he can grow a beard.)

Owner Of A Lonely Heart

I'm kind of a little bitch.

It's true. I have a tendency to focus on the many ways that my life happens to be crumbling down around me at that moment, instead of on any of the good stuff. Like, for example: I'm all flustered that I had to think of something to blog about right now. But I neglect to remember that I'm getting paid to sit here, listen to Crime In Stereo and write down whatever ridiculousness is bound to come spewing forth from my frontal lobe. I also forget that I once spent a summer working road construction and had to drive an hour every morning at 6 a.m. just to wear a 90-pound flame retardant suit and shoot hot tar onto hot pavement. (And I didn't get paid until the END of the summer.)

Still, it's easy to get jaded no matter what you do for moneys.

So occasionally, for me, it takes what I like to refer to as a "good mail day" to knock some optimism into my otherwise forlorn demeanor.

And today is one such day.

Here's some of what I hauled in:



Oasis Dig Out Your Soul
True, this album hit the streets a few days ago and I coulda just went out and spent my blog money on it. But I wasn't that sold on Oasis. Of all the radio pop of my youth, I always kinda thought they were overrated except for "D'You Know What I Mean?" off of Be Here Now, which I conversely thought was underrated. Even though Ryan Adams has compared this album (their fourth this millennium) to Kid A, I had trouble believing anything good could come from here. But boy am I stoked they sent me a free copy. I'm in. This thing is sort of what I liked about Be Here Now--the heaviness and hugeness of it all. It's no Kid A. But it's definitely better than that bluegrass tribute to Radiohead.




Death Cab For Cutie Something About Airplanes Deluxe Edition
It's always pretty sweet when you have no idea something's coming out at the end of November and you find a copy sitting on your chair in the beginning of October. Apparently Barsuk Records decided to commemorate the 10-year anniversary of this album's release with a bonus CD of Death Cab's first Seattle show. I'm stoked because A) I never actually owned this album. And B) Now I do.




Alfred Shredhed "Electric Licks & Riffs" sheet music
"Electric Licks" immediately thrust into my mind an image of a neon sign outside of a questionable massage parlor in a seedy part of town in a dystopian, Blade Runner-type future. But this item actually doesn't have anything to do with that. It's sheet music that you can either hang on your wall or fold up into a sweet, stand-up pyramid. From the cover, it looks like I'm gonna learn a bunch of Green Day, Pantera and Clapton tonight. (Or more likely: I'll learn how to set up the sheet music tonight and then I'll spend the next seven weeks intermittently picking up my guitar and attempting to learn "Owner Of A Lonely Heart" in between commercial breaks of Hidden Potential on HGTV. Still, that sheet music is gonna look killer.



2005 Topps All-Time Fan Favorites Andy Van Slyke foil autograph
In my very first blog, back when I was ready to take on the world with my naked ambition and obscure pop-culture references, I revealed that I collect baseball cards of my childhood hero Andy Van Slyke because "they remind me of a time before girl problems, credit card bills and comprehension of the words 'mid', 'life' or 'crisis.'" This remains true. It also remains pathetic. But still true. There's only 10 of this card in the world. And probably only one Andy Van Slyke collector. But still...

A Colbert Christmas: The Greatest Gift Of All! DVD
What's that? It's too early for Christmas stuff? First of all, it doesn't really matter cause Stephen Colbert coulda released this thing in June and I woulda been into it. And second of all, I'm just gonna celebrate my Christmas now and I'll beat all the lines and hostility and general horribleness of the holiday season by wearing sweaters like this and throwing my party in October. Then I'll be two months ahead for everything. I'll be doing Valentine's Day in December, Arbor Day in February, Flag Day in April... It's gonna be siiiiiiiiiiiick.

APFFL Week 5: Fatal Flaws and F-Words

My heart just isn't in it right now.

How can fantasy football--the thing that I love more than love itself, the thing that I turn my thoughts to when I can't sleep at 4:32 a.m. because everything else in the world seems so complicated--how can I put any faith into fantasy football when it gives Scott Heisel so much self-satisfaction this week?

Here is how the dust settled upon Week 5 in the storied AP Fantasy Football League:

San Diego Whale Vaginas (121!) def. Venice Marmots (65)

There's so much evil in the world.

After opening the season with three straight embarrassing losses, music editor Scott Heisel has somehow managed two victories in a row. What's even more disheartening is the fact that he put up the second most points of any team in the league this season (three more and he woulda had the record and a special place in Hell). The poetic irony of this whole travesty is that his opponent Laura started Panthers running back Jonathan Stewart and Scott started Panthers (less effective thus far) running back DeAngelo Williams. For reasons not entirely clear, Williams managed to grab three touchdowns, depriving Laura of what was rightfully hers. Of course, her three-point performance out of Adrian "Yes, THAT Adrian, Jen" Peterson and zero points from Santana Moss and Anthony Gonzalez didn't exactly inspire. Now Scott won't stop bragging about his fantasy prowess. One more win for him, and our streets could suddenly look like this.

Awesometown Unicorns (95) def. Dandy Van Slykes (83)

Sure, I'm upset I lost this week. But the simple fact of the matter is that my team isn't very good. That isn't self-pity. That's fact. When your defense is your highest-scorer, you're not doing anything right (unless you drafted a defense made up of these guys). True, I would've beaten half the teams in the league this week, but Cameron and her British invasion looked impressive again, moving the fantasy first-timer into first place. You know who I blame? You guessed it.

Exitonefiftytwo (86) def. I Hate California (75)

Every week that passes, I hate a new member of our league a little bit more for depriving Katie of her first win. It's bad enough that on a daily basis she's forced to confront the fact that she's dating me, but the poor girl also has to live with a winless record. Ben continued his unfunny domination of our league and coasted to his fourth victory in five weeks and somehow (I have an official inquiry committee meeting about this as we speak), he managed to make the undisputed best free agent pick-up of the season when our ghost team manager made a fashionable appearance just to drop Plaxico Burress. Normally the waiver order goes according to who sucks, and Ben blatantly does not. I think Ben is clearly a hacker.

Chicago Quails (88) def. Rambunctious Coons (53)

Ronny and the Rambunctious Coons have to hate the Houston Texans right now. He benched their wide receiver Andre Johnson (who scored 19 points) and his opponent Chris and the Quails got a ridiculous 21 points out of their out-of-nowhere running back Steve Slaton. Zero points for Larry Johnson didn't help Ronny and neither did the NEGATIVE SEVEN points the Bills defense secured him. Next time, Ronny, just refer here.

Team Marcella (66) def. 85 Mafia (58)

Once again, the ghost team without an owner managed a victory. Now, as I said earlier, Heather (the legal guardian of this team) did make a few moves earlier in the week, but I didn't hear from her again. So I'm just gonna continue mentally considering them the ghost team. Either way, with minimal to zero coaching, they beat our copy editor Jen--one of only two remaining winless managers. Finally, Jen managed to play a quarterback who both has a job and is sane. But Chad Ocho Cinco--who basically was both her No. 1 and No. 2 draft picks (long story)--continues to plague her with his tenuous abilities and questionable sanity. But one day, Jen and Katie are gonna have to play. And only one manager in this league will potentially finish with zero wins. Why oh why couldn't it be this person?

Milwaukee Milkmen (86) def. Cleveland Hasselhoffs (57)

Our ad exec Zak and the Cleveland Hasselhoffs continues to display his complete lack of recollection that he owns a team in this league. He started two players with bye weeks (including one Cleveland Brown) and Willie Parker (who didn't play in his second straight game due to a bummy knee). This all led to Zach and the Milkmen's no-brainer of a victory even though all of his highest scoring position players were on his bench. It's good to give them a rest now and then, Zach. And you apparently picked the right week.

Tim Karan is kind of awesome.

(I promise this blog isn't a lie like the last one. I'm an unreliable narrator by nature, but I'm not usually that bad.)

I know what you're thinking.
"It was only a matter of time before Tim's rampant egocentrism and constant self deprecation led to inevitably referring to himself in the third person."

And while you're probably right, it hasn't happened just yet. (Talk to me in five months and let's see where we are.)

So here's why this blog is titled as it is: Remember a few blogs back when I got paranoid that a major premium cable channel had been stealing my identity for a cartoon? Towards the end of that entry, I mentioned that another guy has already snagged the TimKaran.com domain name.

Funny thing happened last week.

The other Tim Karan e-mailed me.

I was a little reluctant to open it since, well, the guy is mayor pro tempore of an entire town, and I'm a snotty kid (more or less) who was whining on a national level (even though only 14 people read this blog, they're spread out all over this great country).

But, actually, he had no idea I'd even mentioned him. It was just a crazy coincidence. Chick it out [sic]:

Tim,
Well hello, So I'm at a meeting last week in DC and I have on my name tag "TIM KARAN" and this guy stops me and says, "I love your work with Altpress." Guess he thought I was you. I went back to the room and googled myself and learned I am not the only tim karan. I thought that was only a problem for j. smith. Any way thought I'd pass on you have a big fan in the DC area.
Take Care.
Tim

Timothy Karan
Mayor Pro-Tempore
City of Creedmoor

First of all, what this clearly means is that I'm famous as hell.
But it sucks that the first time I was recognized just for my name on a name tag, it wasn't actually me at all.
I coulda signed an autograph, but instead I was 371 miles northwest, probably playing Madden in my undies.

So I wrote my respectable alter-ego back and he returned the favor, and I'm pretty sure we're best friends forever now (hmm...if only there were a way to abbreviate 'best friends forever'...).

The moral of this story, I guess, is that if you Google yourself and find out that there's another person with your name, don't automatically get territorial. They may be pretty rad. Plus, you never know when you're gonna need to fake your own death, and having someone else with your name has probably gotta have some advantage.

Bloggidy Blog Blog Rise Blog

So apparently it's mandatory today for us AP staffers to blog about our experience at the Gaslight Anthem/Thrice/Alkaline Trio/Rise Against show last night.

Scott posted pretty extensive set lists and Thrice's cover of "Helter Skelter."
Jen showed some iPhone pics mixed with some Palin bashing.

So here we go:

I've lived in Cleveland for a little more than two years now, but I'm still fairly incapable of getting from Point A to Point Anywhere.
Sometimes when there's construction and I have to deviate from my routine path to work, five hours later I realize I'm somewhere outside of Wabash, Indiana. (The weird thing is that I always end up in Wabash.)

So getting from work to the Time Warner Amphitheater often leads to chain smoking and broken dreams.

I was already about 35 minutes late when I realized I was nowhere near the venue. It was around that time that I also noticed that my "Check Gauges" light was flashing (which is my car's polite way of saying, "You forgot to get gas again, you ridiculous douche.")

By the time this all became clear, however, it was too late, and my car stalled out somewhere in the Cleveland Flats. Considering that there's pretty much nowhere to park downtown, and I had come to rest in what looked to be a relatively legal space in an alley outside an abandoned restaurant, I figured I'd just get my power-walk on.

I wasn't sure which direction to go, but I was confident I could handle it. I was a cub scout for three months. I figured if I got lost, I could sustain myself on pine cones filled with peanut butter.

The Flats at this time of evening aren't exactly the type of place respectable, God-fearing people want to be. So, as I passed random derelicts shouting to themselves, I did my best to pretend like I was talking on my cell phone. One man, however, who I would come to know as "Belligerent Theo" saw through my ruse. He began walking next to me and asked, "Say man, wanna buy a fax machine?" I thought to myself, either this guy sees me as the sort of cat who could use a fax machine or slang for black tar heroin has gotten very abstract."

I informed him that I was all set on the fax front, but he insisted on guiding me to the venue because he was supposed to meet "his boy 'Skee'" around there anyway. We talked a lot about government spy brain implants and before we knew it, we were around back of the amphitheater. I could hear the last of the Gaslight set and I assumed this was where Theo and I would part. Theo, however, insisted I hang out to meet 'Skee.' I was just about to fake another cell phone call and dash until a figure approached from down the road. "Yo SKEE!," yelled Theo and I thought for certain I only had 14 seconds to live. "What's up, Theo?," the figure replied, in a voice that sounded eerily familiar to me. I turned and saw Matt Skiba (of Alkaline Trio, and apparently, surreal situations). It took me a second, but I put together that Skee = Skiba.

They talked a little about some time four years ago that involved somebody named Olly and a little about government spy brain implants. Theo introduced us and Matt asked if we wanted to go backstage. I said, "Well, yeah."

He escorted us through the gates (the guards all said hey to Theo) and we shuffled back to the VIP area. We stepped onto his bus and I instantly recognized Dustin Kensrue from Thrice sitting in the lounge playing Super Mario Kart. If you know anything about me, you know that Dustin Kensrue is my favorite frontman and that Super Mario Kart is freaking awesome. He asked me if I wanted to play, and instead of saying something cool, I shouted, "I get Yoshi!"

He stood up and said quietly but firmly, "No, man. I'm Yoshi. I'm always Yoshi." I thought he was joking, but he just kept staring at me.

So I gingerly picked up the controller and reluctantly played as Bowser. My strategy was to find as many Bowser Shells as possible (they knock all other karts off the track), and he said something to me that I'll never forget: "You can't live your life looking for Bowser Shells, man."

After the game, he stood to leave and embraced me heartily for a good 16 seconds. "Good journey, my friend," he said. "Do you wanna watch the show from the stage?"

I said, "Uh, yeah."

So I saw everything--the greatest show arguably ever--from right next to the band.

Afterwards, the rest of the guys in Thrice and most of Rise Against asked me to go to IHOP for Strawberry Banana French Toast.*


* - None of this actually happened. I forgot that the show was last night and couldn't get on the list in time. Instead, I watched It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia and ate two S'Mores Pop Tarts. But from what Scott and Jen said, it sounded like a great show.