Identity Crisis

I hope that you've had a very Merry Christmas, or a pleasant Whatever Bullshit-Heathen Holiday you celebrate in contravention of God's and Rupert Murdoch's will.

I've been spending the holidays in that hotbed of music industry activity, Rochester, NY. OK, so it's not really much of a music industry town, but it IS a superb place for Baby-Watching, particularly when the baby in question is my awesome nephew Parker (a.k.a. "MFPS" a.k.a. "Mr. Fussy-Butt.")



It's fucking snowy and cold here, which has necessitated the wearing of Shoes, which my long-time readers know is something I've avoided religiously for the last 5 years or so. However, my family and I do manage to get out and about between furious sessions of Staring At The Baby, so before I left I dug out a pair of serviceable shoes from before the Great Shoe Moratorium of '00.



This has been a bit of a revelatory experience. I'm not used to the excellent ankle support, the superior traction, the sheer BAD-ASSITUDE sense of confidence that Shoes provide.

Conversely, I'm not sure I'm willing to live without the relaxed comfort and pure SEXINESS of my Mandles.



I mean, LOOK at those fucking things! Have you seen anything hotter in your life? Of course you haven't. I can hear you squishing.

So what do YOU think? Mandled Sex-God? Or Happy-Feet Shoe Guy?

Aw Yeah. Check Us Out, Bitches. And Baby Bitches.

Haiku of the Day

Holiday travel;
It's so fucking cold back east
I'm trying on SHOES.

The Cup Runneth Over As The Well Runs Dry

Water.

Maybe 2005 was all about water.

I began the year doing a benefit for Tsunami victims while torrential downpours caused mudslides in Laurel Canyon. I ended the year doing a benefit for Katrina victims while preparing to brave the snow, sleet, and slush of an East Coast winter.

In 2005, I became an uncle. I also became a voting member of NARAS. One of these things will be good for my soul, while the other will continue to destroy it. Can you guess which is which?

Speaking of souls, in 2005 I decided that souls do exist and I really, REALLY hope that the soul contains an asshole. My reasoning is that I bet in Hell Satan has a special racetrack made of hot coals that he chases tailgaters around, all the while shoving a flaming barbed poker up the soul-asshole of the worthless piece of tailgating shit. The whole time, he’s saying, “So what’s your hurry? (uses flaming barbed poker) Huh? Going somewhere important? (POKE!)”

I also decided that Love wasn’t dead. Still retarded, but not dead.

Having just finished up a rewarding-draining-exhilarating-exhausting-geartastic-songriffic-all-around-motherfucking-LONG stretch of work, I’m ready to clear my head, relax a bit, update the blog a little more regularly, and play solitaire.

OH. In 2005, at the age of 30, I finally learned how to play solitaire. My dad tried to teach me back in the day, but I was too busy drumming and learning to smoke. Hopefully I’ve redeemed myself. Thanks for talking me through it, Deebo!

I know somehow I should now tie up the themes of how life ebbs and flows and the water metaphors, but I’m going to just post whatever’s here and open up solitaire.

I hope your 2005 has been as good and weird as mine, which was pretty effin good and weird.

My Nephew Is Awesome

Say "Uncle!"

You may now refer to me as "Uncle MFDC."

Parker Jeffery Shay, 8 lbs. 15oz.

Woot.

File Xfer Friday (Or, Return Of The Motherfucking Jedi)

Waiting for files to transfer is absolutely the most fun thing imaginable, ever. Seriously. If you don't think so, then you hate America.

The only thing that's remotely more fun than waiting for files to transfer is when your Pro Tools computer can't find the boot drive and won't start up. THAT's so much fun it makes me want to kill a panda.

I fixed it though. I ALWAYS fix it. (The computer. Not the panda.)

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The Darkness is BACK!! I love what you've done to your hair.

Gerry Rafferty's "City To City" is the first album that my Dad bought on the then-new format of Cassette. If that's not enough reason for you to buy it, at LEAST get "Baker Street" and let that sax solo slip you a roofie and make awkward teenage love to you.

Also- Cool Chorus married to Extraordinarily Gay Verse- "Valleri"

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Haiku of the Day-

I heart the McRib
for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
Vegetables are GAY.

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Quote of the Day-

"I'm the Objective Outsider. It's just what I do."

-mfdc