You're OLD OATS, Spencer.

Potpourri Sunday!


SHE WILL ROCK YOU
Here's another singin' Swede for you all -- Theresa Andersson, lately of New Orleans, whose new CD Hummingbird, Go! you should all buy right this minute (my favorite song is called "Hi-Low," fwiw). I happen to know Theresa personally, because she is married to my friend Weird Arthur from kollege, and we went to see her one-woman show at Amnesia last weekend in SF. Lemme tellya -- the girl's got pipes! She goes all Johnny Greenwood with this massive pedalboard and all this live looping (her violin, drums, her own backing vocals, a dulcimer), and it's just amazing -- so much fun to watch & hear.



LANGUAGE POLICE
Listen up, fools: You can't just throw the word "fetish" around. It doesn't mean "something you're, like, into." It means:

1 a: an object (as a small stone carving of an animal) believed to have magical power to protect or aid its owner ; broadly : a material object regarded with superstitious or extravagant trust or reverence b: an object of irrational reverence or obsessive devotion : prepossession c: an object or bodily part whose real or fantasied presence is psychologically necessary for sexual gratification and that is an object of fixation to the extent that it may interfere with complete sexual expression.

So, in other words, something you worship in a religious way, something you're really, REALLY into, or something you need in order to get off. Choose carefully, people -- using words that have religious or sexual baggage when you don't mean it that way makes the baby Shatner cry.


THEENKS, BAHT NO THEENKS.
As a known Lost obsessive, I get asked fairly often whether I'm watching Fringe or not. Answer: no. Reason: Twofold. One, I've already seen enough stupid damn X-Files, and the first ep of Fringe was all-cliche all the time; two, in the second goddamn episode, we're already introducing surgical torture. Now, Shatner knows how many vile sociopaths are going to get to this fine blog via searching for that exact term (if they can spell it), but SERIOUSLY. This has to stop, people. What the fuck is wrong with us, as a nation, as a species, that this is now a thing, a thing which we accept as entertainment? I can't do much about it in the global sense, but I can enforce my rule of instant total disqualification of any alleged entertainment featuring the aforementioned act, and so I shall. Suck me sideways, Abrams.


THE MAGICAL FRUIT
So I poured some coffee beans into the grinder yesterday, and neglected to shut the lid before moving on to something else. Mr. Gleemonex grimaced and shut it for me, informing me of my crime against humanity as I came back into the kitchen -- he hates coffee, hates the smell of it, always calls it "yucky" when I'm drinking it. I ask you. So I reached in, grabbed a bean, and ate it -- just crunched it up, right there in front of him -- while he twitched with disgust and I laaaaughed and laughed. You'd'a thought I just ate a giant cock-a-roach, the way he was carrying on. It was hilare. I might do it again in a minute, just to make him howl.