All Things Must Pass

 So why not go for a turkey? I think I shall and make another Beatles' reference for the third time. So let the spotlight be on George Harrison this time. The title alludes to his second album, and song of the same name. Harrison's concept seems to be fitting and all, since school is ending and whatnot. Okay cool, a whole tale about freshman year at a community college. Eh, not quite.

 Then comes Friday morning. I didn't see the body, but I heard he was found laying in the ditch. I like to think that it was in the same way as Edgar Allan Poe; not sure why I found this to be better. Probably, because it has this mystery to it all. Didn't really intend it be an ode, but yeah...

For the body was of a cat, but not just a cat. It was my cat, Wilson. He was the subject of some tweets, and the butt of jokes. He was also made the subject of a photo, of him being naughty. By the way, this happened to win over my photography class for some reason? He was inquisitive to the nth degree, when it came to things such as a faucets, water, carrying his toy hedgehog, licking eyebrows, sleeping next to sewing machines, playing with scissors and among other subjects.

Sure he sucked at being a cat, especially a lap cat. In fact he was probably more of a dog than a cat. Okay, he purred and slept everywhere, but he would play fetch and needed someone to let him out, to relieve himself as well as “kitty things.” He had suffered from “pinchy-eye syndrome,”and hadn't mastered the concept of glass (I teased him with shoe laces from the other side). He had the uncanny ability to just appear. I mean, one could just look out window and there would be nothing there, and look away. Not even moments would pass, and one could look back there he would be standing (either wanting to be let in or at least to observe those in the room). He mastered the the ability to tap on the glass, so we would know: “oh, you want to be let in.”

Then it hit me (at 11), he won't be there. Not there, not ever. No more playing with the balusters. I now must re-learn not to wander into the back room, looking to see if he's sleeping by the sewing machine. So niyawh^[1]...

And for some strange reason, unknown to me, “I Shall Be Released” had a ringing echo in my head- well at least the opening line, over and over that day: “they say ev’rything can be replaced.” I call bullshit on that. Either it be towards Dylan or “They.” I continued the day as normal and finished mowing the lawn (elsewhere) for someone that's in need of their lawn being mowed. I started with the lane, for the lane goes back into the woods, and ends at a creek. It's a pretty good stretch.

Anyways, off in the distance there was a shadowy figure, similar looking to that famous hoax. I had gotten closer and saw that it was a goose. Okay big whoop? [UW-]Sheboygan usually has geese at the entrance, whether they're walking near the road or on the road. The goose I was watching had eventually flown away and regrouped with a posse of geese of in the nearest field over yonder. I got closer to the creek where more geese emerged. Some were adults, and there were little fuzzy ones. Weird to describe something with features as fuzzy. I guess I didn't like, that I disturbed their own Walden. That's if geese can have that.

Second time down the road another one walked out of the field. This one had quite the personality, for the way it waddled down the lane was like some old queen that once had the time of his life, but now it's far over. Surprisingly, the goose actually stood his ground for quite some time before he fled. More or less, I was just taking in the now, while listening to Mumford & Sons and having an Astral Weeks moment.

Still, overall the first year wasn't quite the same as NBC's Community (“six seasons and a movie”), though I had learned about rhetoric, and I'm pretty sure that's always a useful tool. Got some pretty sweet pieces of art, that I actually like, done (not to mention I saw a nude lady, oh boy). Met some pretty cool people, who really helped shape this first year, and had many good times at lunch. And I thank them for that. Though, on the downside, most, if not all, are sophomores and won't be returning for next year. Going off to bigger and better. I even met an awesome person in art who likes probably the coolest music out there and had gotten me back into the White Stripes. He had even given me some vinyl rips of the White Stripes and the Raconteurs, only exclusively released on vinyl. There was even a countdown for the release of Blunderbuss. In return, Junior Kimbrough and a Jack White bootleg. Then comes the downside that he's a sophomore and won't be returning next year.

 I suppose that's one way to end freshman year.

 [1] A word that grandma uses quite a bit. It's basically a “sentence/idea ending” type word. It could possibly mean: “moving on” or in some form of agreement. Well at least that's what Rachel and I have concluded.

“I've Got Blisters on Me Fingers!”

If the title (or the artwork) doesn't give away the who's and what's about this, make note that the title does allude to Ringo, after along day of being Ringo (which is basically equivalent to 1/32nd of being Paul McCartney. I’m not too sure if that's legit conversion, just a shot in the dark). Anyways, not to worry, there aren't any descriptive details of oozing blisters and such thing along those lines, because that's just gross.

It's more of a funny story… well, maybe not a funny story, but a real puzzler of a tale. On the morn of Tuesday, I had woken up with blisters upon my fingers. Oh boy. Not too sure what I was doing that made them appear. Especially the ones on my left hand, seeing as a certain string should've help to callous them over. It's just pretty odd and whatnot. Eventually I had ignored them for the day.

There’s nothing like a good art story. During class later that day, I was “drawing,” having “fun” with oil stick. Oil stick is used to mark cows and sometimes draw, but I don't think the cow would appreciate that. It's like using a wet sidewalk caulk, basically. Still weird, drawing on cows. The goal is to draw something from life, which is easier said than done. And on a personal level, I'm digging how this drawing is turning out compared the to the last oil stick I did. Not going to brag, but I got some pretty sweet tooth growing on it.

Of course, after using these oil sticks one's hands can become quite messy, and I don't really want to make more messes elsewhere, so why not clean them? Remember by this time I had forgotten about them. What could go wrong? One does have to scrubbed to get the oil off- it's essentially like paint. And in the processes of the doing that, I had torn one of them. And a couple other things happened. I guess the main point of the matter that I would like to get across was that it hurt, simply.

How I Think "The Ballad of John and Yoko" Went Down

Late one night, weeks ago or so, I was up and listening to Hey Jude with a friend. When the song “The Ballad of John and Yoko” came on, I had my own idea of how it all went down. I had the background knowledge that only John and Paul were the only ones playing on the record. George and Ringo were off doing something that wasn't Beatles-related, how lazy? Anyways, this had gotten me thinking: hey, just Paul and John, that couldn't have been too civil? But what if it been like if they were more friends and Yoko wasn't there. That's something to think about. Sure, I don't go into detail about the actual recording, just the moments leading up to it. And this is how I assumed it went down, something like this- also I assume there's a phone call involved:

--THE TELEPHONE CALL--

SCENE: John Lennon is making a phone call to Paul McCartney about a song idea. Though I’m not sure where he is, but he's probably with Yoko, no doubt. Of course he's probably in bed.

JOHN

[dials number]

“Come on, pick up.”

[looks at his pocket watch and muttering to himself]

“Pick up.”

[sounding even more impatient then before]

CUT TO: Paul McCartney's swing '60s flat and he's wearing his sweater vest from Magical Mystery Tour, because that's what '60s Paul McCartney wears, always. To where he's about to sit down at the table, after having a long day of being Paul McCartney. And he's just about to enjoy his evening meal of Chinese take-out. Maybe Linda's there, but who knows. I'm pretty skeptical that she is.

[phone rings]

PAUL

[looks at the phone and looks down at his meal]

(sighs)

[phone continues to ring and looks back at the phone]

[stuffs food into mouth and answers phone]

“'ello.” (mumbled)

CUT BACK

JOHN

“Paul, I got an idea for a song.”

CUT TO: Paul

PAUL

“Who is this?”

CUT BACK

JOHN

“John.”

“Call up George and the other one.”

“This song must be recorded, immediately!”

CUT TO: Paul

PAUL

“Oh. It's you, John.”

[pause]

“Well, They're both out on 'oliday.”

CUT BACK

JOHN

“Oh, shit!”

[awkward silence]

“Um...” (dragged out) “You wanna do it ourselves?”

CUT TO: Paul

PAUL

“Ah yeah, I do!” (sounds super excited)

FADES OUT

INTERTITLE: 9 Hours of Recording and Mixing Later

Record Store Day

It's done in the similar fashion as 420, being that it's not marked on an “official” calendar, and that there is a certain sort of subculture that participates. This said “holiday” is where one goes to support their local record store, and just to sweeten the deal, certain artists release special edition of albums, singles and etc. There was something that Jack White's Third Man Records in Nashville had released which had blown my mind. Anyways, as for supporting our local record store, Music Boxx, we pretty much did fail at that. I mean we did go to Madison, continuing what we had done last year. This year had a decision: either go with the Art Club to Chicago, or spend Record Store Day with friends in Madison. Still not that sure, I made the right choice. Moving on, so yeah- and like most of these it features the same cast: Cody, Dusty and I.


After leaving at seven, or close to seven, it was roughly around two hours when we arrived in Madison. There we had passed what one would think were the remains of the "Occupy Madison" movement; though it was more like occupy a parking lot. Anyways, we had eventually gotten to the first store, Strictly Discs. Its basement was filled with vinyls. There was an entire room of jazz and the other with mostly rock. We had spent at least an hour in there or so, and at the end I had found two “prison albums” (i.e. At San Quentin and Live in Cook County Jail), a misleading Who album, Stone the Crows, Vanilla Fudge, Rory Gallagher, and Bob Dylan and the Band's Planet Waves. Not too bad for the first stop. And Strictly Discs had given us a magnet with our purchase. Though later I had learned, through a tweet, that Kimya Dawson of the Moldy Peaches had stopped at Strictly Discs just hours later. Just think- Kimya Dawson stood where I had stood. That's pretty neat.


The next store was out on State Street, so we had piled in the Neon and fled the scene. The next stop wasn't so promising, for they didn't have many used records. I mean, they specialized in mostly new vinyl, though that's not all bad, but it is spendy. On the bright side I had found a Jack White single from this forthcoming album, which is released this coming Tuesday [April 24th]. So that's pretty neat. Though for this time they had a basement of used stuff, which wasn't as superior as the one at Strictly Discs. Their basement seemed to be more in its infancy. But still there wasn't that much there. At the checkout there were Sarah Palin brand condoms, which are “as thin as her resume.” Anyways the checkout person was quite surprised by my single, and had wondered if it was a special. She had also offered me a free comic book, but I didn't know what to do with it, so I passed on the offer. And like that it was time for lunch.

As we were walking down State Street there was a gentleman, who at first glance had the appearance of being 'down and out,' and that being talking about change. So sad, but not to worry, his so-called “down and out” appearance had changed when he personally and directly asked me: “Wanna buy some weed?” I suppose I have that type of appearance, meh. Oh well, it could always be worst. Then at a quick glace I had notice his “little green bag” sticking out of his front pocket of his gore-tex jacket. Anyways, he no longer seemed “down and out,” but would turn out to be more “up and in.” So I had handled it the best way that I could have with a response of, “What?!” And with that magic word, the friendly pusherman had apologized for some reason. We continued on walking, and left him to his own profession. The experience itself had worked up an appetite, so we stopped for lunch. The time on the parking meter was running low, so our time upon State Street had come to an end.

The store was Mad-City Music, where I believe I struck gold. I had been looking for some White Stripes vinyls, so I had ventured over to the new vinyl 'W.' There I was hoping to find their debut album or White Blood Cells. Though if I had been adventurous maybe Elephant. So I was flipping through them and Blunderbuss was there! That completely contradicted the poster near there: “JACK WHITE – BLUNDERBUSS – DEBUT ALBUM – APRIL 24.” Well that's something, but oh well. I'll take it. I had just assumed that when I was going to check out that they would be all “oh, sorry we can't sell you that.” But that didn't happen, so good deal. That was just surprise numero uno. My hopes had gotten up when I found a Blood on the Tracks, but then dead when there was a bar-code. So Cody was flipping through some and found Music from Big Pink. Oh boy, that's pretty sweet. I had gone from the pile to the hands like that, though I had to give up Death, to Cody. Still flipping through came another Blood on the Tracks, but still a reissue. Oh darn. And then another surprise had nipped me: Astral Weeks. That's really, really sweet, and something I didn't think I would see. That's going on my pile. Shortly afterward a Blood on theTracks from 1975 was found. As for me, I was pretty well set. Though the most shocking bit was that Dusty wanted to get something by Bruce Springsteen. Wait. Did I hear that right? So I naturally I just had to question this. Apparently he was being a neat guy by being a vinyl cartel for a Whitewater native. Although the Whitewater native could always do better. I mean, it is Springsteen. Why not just listen to Bat Out of Hell? At least that's listenable, just sayin'.

There was one last stop in Madison, though there was an Aidiko studio near, so of course Dusty being an aficionado, he just had to go and check that out. The record store was an odd store, for the vinyl were either priced quite steeply or they were missing the actual disc. It was rather dull, so moving on. Since our time in Madison was done, somehow Cody had convinced Dusty to take us to Milwaukee. This would be Cody's stomping grounds, and this required more driving. By time we left the Madison, the Neon's speedometer had died. Yeah, that common thing… well for the Neon it is. But not to worry for Dusty would hit it occasionally and sometimes it worked and other times it did not. It was a rather bumpy ride to Milwaukee. There we had hit up two more stores. And like that it was all over, and we went back to Sheboygan where we witnessed all three of the Neon's gauges to dead. Though I still have one thought, and that being: “How did I obtain Jack White's debut album three days before it's released?” I suppose I'm just that lucky.


Not sure if I would've have this much fun in Chicago...

Burger King

This isn't me trying to say that Burger King is unorganized or terrible (that can't be, for they have napkins, thus making them classy, said that one person). It's nothing more than a simple personal experience, which could have happened years ago or it might have happened just yesterday. It’s really not that important. To start things off, Burger King is, I assume, famous for the Whopper. Now the Whopper Double is a bigger version of the Whopper. And the Whopper is the smaller version of the Whopper Double, which would make the Whopper Junior the smaller version of that one. I'm pretty I figured that one out right, maybe?

A functioning soda machine would be a good place to start. I mean, most of them have some fluids dripping from one of the nozzles causing the surrounding areas to become sticky. Their Dr. Pepper had a “so much cherry” taste. And their Coca-Cola was nothing to shake a stick at, meaning something along the lines of it didn't have the same Coke taste. No, it wasn't watered down or anything, but that probably would've been better than what it actually tasted like. Also, I'm pretty sure that lady would've wanted the machine to work. Probably because the machine had “attacked” her, through the means of spraying with her choice of soda- see not all bad. I mean, that's too bad.

The Whopper’s fixings were falling apart. I don't think it was assembled right, but who's me to be the judge. It's not like my “vegetables” were falling out or anything. Not to worry, I had corrected the error with some simple rearranging. The fries were something. But at least on the bright side they did have a great idea.

On a completely separate note, it was recently brought to my attention Lucille Bogan's “Shave 'em Dry,” from 1935. Okay cool, the mid-1930s, right? Then of course there's Jelly Roll Morton's “The Dirty Dozen,” from 1938. Alright! Another song from the '30s. And it just the “prefect” song for this hypothetical: if both the songs were played on radio that FFC has control over. So, of the two songs, which one of them would be pulled first? I probably should make a note that there's some profanity, but I don't really feel like doing that. And it would just defeat the element of surprise. So, oh well.

If Thankskilling Had More of an Easter Theme

Just because mostly everyone's doing it [having some form of an Easter post] I thought, why not? It started sometime a while back, while searching through Netflix one time at a friend's house. There in the gutter of Netflix's eclectic-ness was a film with the description the included “... homicidal turkey …” It was more or less an “okay, I'll bite” moment. By the way, the movie was called Thankskilling. Anyway, the film is a (quite) low-budget film and the only “known” actress was an adult film star. Like I had said, there is a homicidal turkey that is basically a hand puppet, and has a fowl mouth. Ultimately, the turkey pillages and plunders (murders and fornicates) a group of college students. Anyways it probably has some sort of a cult following, but less than Troll 2 and not nearly as cool as anything Ed Wood did. But that's just me. Now the hypothetical is: what if Thankskilling had been more suited for the Easter holiday?

Well, I could see it having some of the similar plot. Instead of a turkey puppet, maybe perhaps a macramé rabbit could be used since has a connection with Easter, and a macramé rabbit would just make it seem more realistic than a puppet. A puppet is just so two thousand and late; I assume kids are looking for more macramé. Plus that way it would be far removed so it wouldn't be similar to that of the Rabbit of Caerbannog. Moving on, it is a demonic bunny, since now it is Easter themed, and has some sort of spat with teenagers, who are probably on their cellphones- damn kids and their rap music. Don't worry, it's all rhetorical.

I see the rabbit as having the ability to talk and turn into a clip art of hasenpfeffer. You know… that common thing. Not to mention that the rabbit likes to make puns or some sort of word plays that makes the audience go “ugh.” And then it basically goes on from there. The rabbit attacks the students in numerous ways, such as serving eggs to the one student who is very allergic to eggs, because it works that well. He then offs a couple more, till there's very few left. The remaining few figure out what's going on, learn about their antagonist, and find a specific way to defeat it (which of course is all mentioned in a specific topic that one of the students has back at their house). It finally ends and they sit down to have their Easter dinner, which isn't ham. Oh no, it just so happens to be hasenpfeffer. And that's about it. Then again, one could go out on a limb and make some sort of blasphemous ending comment, such as “he is risen,” which then can be used for a subtle hint of a sequel which is probably as low-budget as the first. And that would be that. Before I forget, Happy Easter.

Fear and Loathing in (UW-)Whitewater (Part III)

Maybe we had walked down some stairs or something- well it was in the basement. Nothing too exciting down there, we had passed a broken bubbler which, by the way, is the proper name for it, continued down a hall towards wherever Dusty had been leading us to. Either we had stopped in an Apple Lab for a moment, or that was just a figment of Phil's imagination. Thank God we had gotten out of there before Phil could get any more excited. Though this wasn't the room that Dusty had intended. He had led us to a small room with two chairs and an electric piano. Not a cool electric piano like a Wurlitzer (you know, type like Ray Charles used in “What'd I Say“). For some reason Dusty has wanted to hear a harpsichord tune or something. Okay, sure why not? Well I didn't; I tried and played, from what I could remember of the Pumpkins' “Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness.” That lasted only for a moment and then we went back to a lounge area. There we sat. And sat for a while.

Cody and I had amused ourselves at the table while the others played the “nervous game” or some shit like that. Upon the table there was the Whitewater school paper. Sure, their school newspaper may be bigger than The Voice, however there's one thing The Voice has over them: coupons to Culver's. And Culver's coupons are extremely important. There were also some taped together branches for some sort of an arts and crafts time, and some alcohol awareness thing. While sitting or waiting, there were three large women, who I assumed to be be-drunken, who waddled up the stairs. And they were quite loud. If they weren't large or women, it still makes a better story. We just sat there. Well almost all of us, Stueven had gone off somewhere to talk to his betroth… for quite some time. The rest of us continued to sit. Eventually I ran out of sit and explored my surroundings, such as the Mr. “Geddy” Lee, which by the way doesn't look like Geddy Lee at all, he looks more like former-president Truman. You know, Harry S. Of course, that common thing. Near the portrait there was a handmade poster with “Bowling for Boobies.” Okay. I'll bite.

I'm pretty sure the rest lost the sit in them and we returned to Dusty's room. We went up the stairs and through the hallway back to the dorm to where one found none other than Kenny, who was doing something (probably playing Mass Effect). Eventually he had ended his game, and we tried to watch a movie. I’m not too sure what movie it was but it did star Mark Wahlberg. Alas, it was early and I don't think anyone was paying attention anyways. (Though I could be wrong.) A Whitewater native had sneaked in Dusty's room and used it as sanctuary. He was hiding from the RAs. As Kenny put it; he was “balding,” a Whitewater term for being under the influence. After an hour of the movie or less than that we all had given up with trying to watch, so we tried to sleep.

The sleeping arrangements were most peculiar: two beds, one floor, and a futon. Although the two Whitewater natives got their respected beds. The floor was to Carter, and in addition to the floor he had gotten my pillow. Though with a pillow case of the Packer kind, it would only make sense more to him than me, I suppose. And the futon was shared between Stueven, Cody, Phil and I. So yeah, four guys… sounds hot, doesn't it?

It was like something out of Bob & Carol & Ted & Alice. Wait, that's a terrible reference; it doesn't really apply at all (and it's probably out-dated, and not all walks of life will/would get it). Sure, there were four bodies, but we were all guys, we weren't couples, we weren't exploring free love, and most importantly we weren't in a bed. Although Kenny had offered to return to his “room,” though that wouldn't be too nice. I mean, throwing him back to a room that smelled of “shame, sweat, and disappointment” would just be cruel. And yet, oh how much I would give for a bed. Believe it or not, but surprisingly I'm not the tallest. However, in this strange turn of events I was just tall enough to have my legs dangle off the edge. Then to top it all off, there was all this ploy-rhythmic wall of snores, coming from all round me. I had this thought floating in the back of my mind, “I can't sleep in this shit.”

To the person on the right of me, I was pretty sure he was tossing and turning, and for some reason smothering himself with his pillow. Though I don't really remember, but I'm also convinced the person on my right had touched asses. Certainly a nightmare. That’s weird. Maybe the floor or Dusty's bed wasn't sounding that bad after all. Like I had mentioned earlier about the snoring, there was this loud obnoxious snore from person on my far left, at the time I described as “the sound of a person, who hated Apple products.” That doesn't really make much sense. Could one tell I was sleepy? Later I was told that I wasn't the only one annoyed by the loud snorer. Someone had punched him, and surprisingly it had worked. Though it had stopped, he still had mumbled “goddam it, son of a bitch.” And that's that, I would suppose. Phil was still one sick puppy, sleeping with his shoes (and jacket) on. That's just gross.

I must've fallen sleep, because I remember waking up. Though I'm quite puzzled by how that had happened. My legs hurt. Dusty didn't want to bring us through the Whitewater eatery. I think he's embarrassed by us? Of all the places one could eat at Whitewater and the city, we went to MacDon's. Oh, that's fancy, not like I could find one of those in Sheboygan. So yeah, we ate there, Stueven made a mess, and we went back to the school. Alas we needed a group photo to at least prove that Whitewater existed and that we were actually there. There was a couple who helped take the group picture. They were driving a Sebring which prompted Cody to say: “first compliment them on their Sebring and then tell them that their engine's going to die.” He did have emotional ties with Sebrings. So the couple was nice enough to do what we had asked. Then it was time for the big goodbye. And then we had left Dusty to fear and loath in Whitewater, by his self. Hours later it had ended on the road with Blind Melon's “No Rain” playing. I think that's a fitting end to a place that was in the middle of nowhere.

Though of course there was Dylan's proto-rap song, “Subterranean Homesick Blues,” which was later, and came on my way home. One just has to play it loud... Sure did any of these experiences or blurry pictures prove that Whitewater actually existed? But who knows, I'm not there, I'm gone. We must have done something right, at least I think. I mean it felt like we had lost an hour. Not only did we lose time, but one didn't come home with us. Indeed, we left to him to fend for himself in Milwaukee. I don't think I had learned that much of anything, except maybe a certain pair of people, who'll remain nameless, had this whole Verlaine and Rimbaud... well, that's just my thought. And sure there was this whole “we had to bring the entertainment and food” type of deal. Really Dusty? Maybe one should redefine their definition of being a “host.” But still it was nice to get out of Sheboygan. That's always a plus. I had gotten a couple of tweets out of this, that's good. I almost forgot, I had gotten a Ralph Steadman-like doodle. And yet I don't believe that I found the great American dream, but I might have...

Album Reviews

Big Brother & the Holding Company (1967), Big Brother and the Holding Company – WARNING! This isn't the Cheap Thrills by Janis Joplin feat. Big Brother and the Holding Company that everyone has come to know and love (that's assuming one's not counting I Got Dem Ol' Kozmic Blues Again Mama! or Pearl, because then I'm safe). This is more like Big Brother and the Holding Company feat. Janis Joplin, and Janis Joplin is being treated like that of Nico (i.e. The Velvet Underground & Nico). Oh sure, don't get me wrong, she's a part of a band and being a part of a band means everyone should get a turn singing lead, right? Anyways, that's cool having Miss Joplin score only four songs to sing lead upon; not bad for a lead singer (that's one more than Nico!), but this is no ordinary lead singer, this is Janis motherf-ckin' Joplin. I mean, she is/was kinda known for that. This is acid rock, though I should use that term loosely; however that may change when one questions the connection between a caterpillar, a butterfly, a pterodactyl, or an abominable snowman all having to do with love, and yet it sort of lacks the whole acid feeling, although I’m not saying that I know what that feels like. The studio scrubbed that down and made the band sound tame. Though, given the state that it's in, I would've arranged it to have "Bye, Bye Baby" to the closer. ("Bye, Bye Baby," "Women Is Losers," and "Call on Me") B

Cosmo's Factory (1970), Creedence Clearwater Revival – Can't really turn a corner without hearing a hit on this album. Sixty-four percent of music will later appear on Chronicle, Vol. 1, making up thirty-five percent of that album. Aren't percentages fun? This album has everything; there's slide guitars, roots rock, a Marvin Gaye cover, swamp rock, country rock, John Fogerty, a Bo Diddley cover, elephants, and a Roy Orbison cover. The statement that seems to summarize it well: “oh, that's also on this album.” So are the elephants playing the tambourines, John Forgerty? (“Lookin'Out My Back Door,” “Run Through the Jungle,” “Who'll Stop theRain,” and “Long as I Can See the Light”) A

Destroy All Astromen! (1994), Man or Astro-man? - If there's anything one should know about Man or Astro-man? it is that they are very nice to vinyl junkies. That's always a good thing, but who knew Sci-Fi-themed surf rock straight out from the '90s could be that cool? So when I grow up I wanna be a Man or Astro-man?. (“Of Sexand Demise,” “Joker's Wild,” “Intoxica,” “The Heavies(Let's Surf the River of Blood),”Mystery Science Theater 3000 LoveTheme,” and “Landlock”) A-

Some Nights (2012) – Fun. - Wasn't really expecting them to be potty mouths, but oh well; I guess that's what one has to do to not sound average. Nor was I expecting them to use “string-arrangements,” similar to that of a sixties baroque pop album, throughout the record. It was just a mixture of piano, some Queen-esque vocal styles (which are on the borderline of being parodies- thanks auto-tune), and the use of stock music. Though, at the end, “Stars” sounds like they're having a real good time, an ode to Metal Machine Music. At least they're just setting the world on fire, instead of the Vatican (i.e. Macklemore). Wait, what? Though, on the bright side, it isn't Some Girls. (“We Are Young,” “Why Am I the One,” and “All Alone”) B-

Fear and Loathing in (UW-)Whitewater (Part II)

It was time for a change of scenery, so Dusty led us off to new frontiers. We left his dorm with our jackets on our backs, bundles of five dollars in our pockets, and Semisonic's “Closing Time” stuck in our heads. We were about to embark upon the “normal” thing that “normal” college students who live on campus do...

If you guessed drinking, then I set it up correctly and get a gold star for deception, and if not then.., but the fact of the matter was that he was going to take us on tour of the campus. That's right, a tour. Nothing says I'm a “collage studden” like a midnight tour. Indeed a tour of the University of Wisconsin-Whitewater campus. We exited the “Geddy” Lee Hall and walked towards the first stop, Drumlin (a dining hall/convenience store), which wasn’t that far way. Oh, I probably should explain the “Geddy” Lee bit: since Dusty lives in the Lee Hall and is a fan of the Canadian rock band Rush, and their bassist's name is Geddy Lee, this was done for Dusty's sake and surprisingly wasn't a rhetorical choice at all. Anyways, upon entering the building we walked up some stairs. The others followed Dusty. I for one did not, not because I'm rebel or some horseshit like that, but I had gotten sidetracked by a poster of John Belushi portraying Bluto, his character from National Lampoon's Animal House. I later found this to be the only tribute on campus to their famous attendee. I had then caught up with the tour group. Drumlin was this Emporium-sque place or, simply put, a convenience store. It was mainly dead, which is probably to be expected since it was after midnight and all. It was a convenience store and that's about all I can say about it. However, I didn't see any ice-tea of any brand name; Jared would be most disappointed. Not even a matching stain to go along with it, not really much of an “-sque” is it?

Looking around there were some baskets of chips for thirty-five cents or so. But it turned out be nothing but a bunch of empty wicker baskets and few bags of Goldfish (and just to clarify, Goldfish are not chips), talk about false advertising. Okay, that might be a lie since there was a chip bag lying on the bottom of one of the other baskets. I think the main reason we had come here was for the infamous “cheesyhawks.” So probably around this time Dusty had asked if anyone wanted a “cheesyhawk.” Not to worry, it is a food, though what came/comes to mind is that it's a block of melted cheese covered in hawk feather, though I’m not really sure if there is any hawk in them at all. As for myself, I had made no secret of it to Dusty that I wasn't going to eat it, but more along the lines of poking it. Or I could make a sketch of it; I mean that is what business majors do. We circled around and then walked back towards the entrance. Upon walking back I noticed from a distance, and out of the corner of my eye, what appeared to be “cannabis” flavored beef-jerky. Of course, this is a tale of nothing more than high morals and G-rated concepts, so there wouldn't be any of that. Plus this is Wisconsin, just sayin'. It was obviously nothing more than my eyes playing a simple trick, along with the help of stereotypical Mary Jane green upon the packaging.

Moving right along, I had drifted towards the farthest shelves (or the closest to the window) when my eyes happened to be glued upon a certain hygiene product that expands when wet. Also feminine. Funny, because there was this large window right there. I had also assumed it was shady business, similar to that of a drug deal, when females would get this product. I had pointed it out to Cody, and he had made the statement of: “those would clog the toilet. Let's do it.” Ah! Yes, a science experiment came to mind. I ran the idea by Stueven and he agreed. So it was settled, it shall be done in the name of science! Though Dusty seemed less than enthused. I mean it's not like we're using them for their principle purpose, so it's not weird. Right? Dusty wouldn't budge, and it became a dead issue. Loitering there was getting old, so it was that time to leave the miniature convenience store and continue the tour.

Upon leaving we had passed what looked like a “build your own salad” type-bar, and I had made the comment that the tomatoes didn't look fresh and had a thought that the lettuce didn't look all that good either. Of course that's assuming the lettuce was lettuce and hadn’t been pieces of artichoke. We exited the building and walked along the sidewalk and followed Dusty. He led us to the next stop, their [UWWW's] version of a fine arts building. Along the way there were hurdles and a distraction, that being a certain button. I was told not to press the button. Also I had taken the opportunity to make it seem like a legitimate tour, so I took a couple dozen (or more) holiday snaps.

The fine arts building, which was closed (gee, thanks a lot, Dusty), had these four large, metal, blue/orange people cutouts. Dusty had also mentioned that Ron, and no, not Ron Weasley, though don't be too discouraged, for there are other connections to Hogwarts that Whitewater has… anyways, I’m getting sidetracked, Ron, I assume a native, spends most of his time here. And for Cathi, this would be some sort of foreshadowing. We walked along to that point, which was quite some time. Probably along the way Dusty was talking about interesting facts or statistics or some sort of bullshit like that, but alas, there's only so much I can remember. The next probably had a proper title, but I can only remember it as “the building that had a very old bell, which Dusty told us not to ring.” I think that title sums up what happened nicely. We moved right on to the next, but first, on the outside was this bust of Lincoln, correction: a bust of the young Lincoln (no beard, shaved winky smile), the bust stood upon the plaque dedicated The World War. This prompted Carter or Phil or Stueven, well it was at least one of them, to say: “Dusty, Whitewater got it wrong.” Ironically, this building was also where history was taught. This was, claimed Dusty, the oldest building and something and another. Oh, I almost forgot that this building is also “haunted.” That's right; this is one of the numerous things that are “haunted” on the Whitewater campus. Apparently, things move or sounds are made when no one is around. I guess that would explain why the lights were on.

As we walked on, Dusty pointed out buildings on the left and the right, and their purposes. He had led us uphill and pointed out this crap shack in the distance. But what tour would be complete with a potty break? Dusty “broke in” to the nearby building and we did our business and left. Oh, and a “guard” had told Dusty they were “only opened until a certain time.” So the bright thing to do was exit, go down the hill and reenter the through the proper front door. Yeah, that showed that “guard.” Inside was nothing too special; there were eating places and everything was stained with Warhawk fandom. We exited the eating place and continued on. Dusty was again pointing out the buildings on our left and right and their purposes. We did, in fact, pass a greenhouse; oh that's neat. He had explained that the green-haired girl, Amanda, or “Bio Girl,” keeps all of those plants alive; oh that's very impressive. We continued. We passed the bookstore and another building and then we had entered the student housing, where he had said something about Mads, but I don't quite remember what it was about. We continued walking, and in the distance there was a pack of natives who, if anything, seemed to be inebriated, standing on a hill. Zigzagging around the campus, we passed another eating place, went through an “alleyway,” and passed a herd of “washing machines.”

Like most tours, murder is certainly a topic of choice, so far be it from this to be any different. Whitewater has a dark history, and was turned into a movie. Dusty had explained that back in the day, before Whitewater was a part of the UW system, it was a school of witchcraft and wizardry… oh, where have I heard that before? Anyways, Dusty had asked us if we wanted to go up to the tower. Of course, I, being a business major, couldn't get a great picture of this tower. We walked up a hill towards the tower. Oh, also this tower is where three witches were hung, or as I like to think about it is that they murdered three innocent people, just sayin'. Dusty was surprised that we actually wanted to go there at night, because none of his Whitewater friends had ever wanted to. True, however this was a special evening, for it was Day-Light Savings, so that changes everything. So on this thought of witches and murders, this would seem like the perfect time to see the school's cemetery. Yep, Whitewater has its own cemetery. Well of course we walked there, but on the way there Dusty had told as about this book in the Whitewater library that was written by those witches. He continued saying that everyone who has read this book has gone mad and committed suicide. Guess who's going to use the UW-System library loan to find this book?

We had stopped outside the cemetery to talk about the fence: the fence which was covered in gum. Apparently this was some sort of band tradition where, just before some sporting event the band sticks their gum to the fence. We did go in, but it was so much more walking. However, I did get to ask the witty question: “Is it true that college students dug up the corpses to go have sex?” I don't really remember what Dusty's response was, but I assume it was just right. The tour was coming to end and the last stops were sports related, so yeah. We came back to flat ground and a street that led to the sports. Dusty had stated that this is where the freshmen… and I interrupted with “it's where the freshmen are stripped naked and made lay down as steamrollers...” I was close, but it's where the freshmen paint the entire street purple. And Dusty remembered where he had painted. Well good for you, good for you. The football stadium was in sight. We gazed at the field and such. And of course I had noticed that for a sports area there are a lot of cigarette butts everywhere. Once everything had soaked in we left the sports area and that was that. We had walked across the parking lot and towards the dorm. Alas! The tour was over and my, and probably the others,' legs were tired, as we entered the back door of the “Geddy” Lee Hall.

To be continued....

Fear and Loathing in (UW-)Whitewater (Part I)

It was night. The trip was stained with billboards and car lights. The view from the truck's windows had fit with the music, Iggy Pop's “ThePassenger.” Okay, that right there was a lie; “The Passenger” wasn't playing. I mean, come on that would almost be too perfect. I did think of “The Passenger,” at the moment and it did seem to make sense. I think Pop's message had conveyed what we- Carter, Cody, Phil, Stueven, and I- were embarked upon. The actual music playing wasn't as deep; I mean, I think I heard one of the song's lyrics was something along the lines of “piss, piss, awesome.” Yep, that's the sounds of the music of Stueven. Though to be fair he did have MGMT's “Kids” and Marcy Playground's “Sex and Candy” on that disc by which I was impressed. It was roughly a two hour drive or so, and I bet one could tell this was written by someone from Wisconsin with the fact that I'm telling the distance through hours. We passed through the city of Milwaukee and off to a city in the middle of nowhere: Whitewater.

Nowhere indeed. With the simple fact that Whitewater was literally in the middle of nowhere, I had lead most, if not all, of us to believe that Whitewater wasn't real. We had passed the sign that read: “Whitewater.” Boy, that must have set Dusty back a bit. I mean, making it actually seem real. We passed through a roundabout into what seemed to be the city, though it had the appearance of Kiel. Continuing further down, the Kiel scene had turned into what looked very similar to Sheboygan Falls. Luckily for me, Stueven's disc had run out of music and then it was time for Fatboy Slim to shine. "TheRockafeller Skank” was on; check it out now, the funk soul brother. And later Fatboy Slim was doing something in heaven. I think it was fucking, but don't take my word for it.

We had gotten further down the way where Stueven had turned down some unknown residential street, but we were looking for a road named Starin. Phil, who had been doing the navigating, said “Starin is probably at the end of this, somewhere.” Believe it or not but the boy was right. After one parking lot seemed sketchy because it seemed to be away from everything else, we managed to find one that would seem to be closest: Parking Lot 7. We stepped out of the vehicle. And my thought was that this is cheesyhawk warhawk hawk country!

Now, like any other guests, we wouldn't want to inform our host of our arrival, so why not seek him out? It seemed legit at the time; it's like we weren't in an unknown land or anything like that. We stumbled across student housing, where the leaves were the shape and size of dog shit. We were following Phil who was still navigating. We went whichever the hell direction he went: left, right, forwards, backwards, towards, and even in a circle. There was something spooky about these three buildings that Cody had pointed out. During these trials and tribulations, we had found a car friend, who was probably some inebriated college girl. She liked this game of honking the horn at us, or at least it seemed that way. Not to worry, the car friend was parked, and we weren't even in the way of it, although I really thought it was a failure to communicate. After going in circle we had finally found the Lee Hall, but how does one get in?

The answer was simple: sneak in. Sure, why not? I mean this doesn't seem like UWM or anything like that. Once again, Phil had brought up the idea. So we stood and waited for a person to open the door. She was being quite helpful, though she didn't really know how helpful she was being. We climbed the tiled stairs, I mean everything was tiled, and we climbed those stairs to the fourth floor. We then started looking at every door for Dusty's adjective name. Also, I probably should mention that it was really warm in that hall. Then we bummed into another helpful native, who actually knew he was being helpful, and he told us where Dusty was, and so he brought us to the lad.

Dusty greeted us outside of his room, while his dorm was full of Whitewater natives. We still had to get our stuff, so Dusty left the room with all of those people still inside of it. Yeah, I know I said those people; what, wanna fight about it? So we voyaged back the vehicle. On the way to the outside, we bumped into one of Dusty's friends in the hall (at least that's what I think happened.) It turned out to be Chris, who I heard likes The Rocky Horror PictureShow and a certain someone's Lonely Island vinyl, which I had heard from a reliable source. Dusty had introduced ourselves, and then we went on our merry separate ways. This would be the only time we would see this Chris fellow. Eventually we made it back to the vehicle, which had been almost as challenging as finding Lee Hall. Sure, Dusty might live there, but he doesn't even know where Parking Lot 7 is, so yeah. Like I said, it wasn't as bad as finding the hall, and we got to the vehicle which is what we had needed.

As we got back to Lee Hall and climbed the tiled stairs, there were still people occupying his room. So we dropped our shit off at Dusty's room and walked, without Dusty, towards what appeared to be a “lounge” area, and we lounged. Dusty’s inhabitants had finally cleared out his dorm and we moved from the “lounge” area to the Dusty's newly cleared out dorm. The room had four walls, a ceiling, and even a floor. There were two beds and a futon. There was even a Red Hot Chili Peppers poster on the wall. All of us had gotten situated. I, of course, made it to the futon. Then there was a person who walked in. This person turned out to be Kenny, who was Dusty's “adopted” roommate and a fan of the music of Adele, which I had learned from a reliable source, or at least I could assume was reliable. Kenny had explained that the reason he had become an adopted roommate was, as he put, his “... [“former”] roommate and his girlfriend don't know how to stop fucking.” That's unfortunate though. I suppose it could always be worse: the roommate could be the type of person who isn't the master of his own domain, wink wink. Then again I really won't know. And Kenny had apologized in advance about his use of the King’s English, because he does use it: insert “O” face here. I really couldn't give a shit if he did or didn't, though it was a nice gesture either way, I suppose. Kenny had left the dorm and regrouped with other Whitewater natives to do God knows what?

The night's entertainment consisted of video games, or at least a video game, in which there was only a certain number of players, so one person would sit out each round. It was simple enough, although problems had arisen. Cody was being inquisitive about things being hooked up correctly. At one point, though, Dusty had stated that something was in something and then it led Cody to say, “An HDMI cable doesn't go into a UBS port.” Dusty simply responded with: “oh...” Once things were calibrated everything was better, though it wasn't great, but it didn't make it worse at least. That's certainly a plus, I think.

As this was going on, I had not really noticed it, but two natives had walked in: a shorter guy, and the other a female. The female, with evergreen colored hair, had come into the room and entertained Dusty with stories of conquest. These stories were more or less about the dyeing of her hair this most lovely color of green, her piercings, and her winning of something called an “alcohol hat.” I really don't know what it is, but hey I'm not judging. It turned out that her name was Amanda, though it's not like I'm going to remember that. Her short gentleman friend left before Dusty had introduced us, so it was the female who learned which schools we all go to. Only moments after the green-haired girl left, we were informed that she was, in fact, the “Biology Girl.” The name of the “Biology Girl” was some sort of bearing of a miniature cult following. I still had gotten a kick out of “Biology Girl” and the shorter guy's pet name for Dusty: “Google Bitch.” I had found this humorous. “Google Bitch.” I could only imagine how that originated; actually I knew how it started, but that's for another time, or not. Who's to say?

We continued on with the game until ten-thirty, which was when the newest Saturday Nigh Live was on, so all was stopped and we watched. Jonah Hill was hosting and the band was, surprisingly, someone I never had heard of, The Shins. All was well until a certain someone, Dusty, had left to check on something (I think that might be right.) I then locked, I mean the wind locked, the door. To be fair there was some peer pressuring going on and I won't point any fingers, Stueven, but they, or he, can be very convincing, just sayin'. Luckily for Dusty's sake, Kenny had come to his aid and opened the door; aren't we just the best guests ever? By the time of Weekend Update (with Seth Meyers) there had been three more natives in the room, or at least I think there was: the shorter guy from before, a tall one, and maybe a third one. I mean, if there was a third he really couldn't have been there more than a moment or two. By the way, if anyone can figure out how long a moment is, please inform me. The shorter one left, just like before (talk about Déjà vu). The tall one was later revealed to be one of the two RAs on the floor. The tall one also had a name, Cody. So to avoid confusion we'll call this Cody “Whitewater Cody.” Much similar to the green-haired girl, Dusty had introduced us with our names and our respective schools. Whitewater Cody had stayed for most of SNL, or at least that's what I remember, I think. SNL had ended and the night was still young. More was yet to happen, I think.

To be continued...