I’m betting Pumpkin and Brosiah Taguchi will add on this and maybe even kick me in the jizunk for some of these nuggs, but a post on the 2006 Lollaplaooza is needed.

Here are some awards:

Best surprise: Matisyahu. His band rocks, and that mofo can tear up some beatbox. I could’ve done without the preaching, but I knew what I was in for.
Lipton’s Weak Tea award: Kanye West. (Look, Broba Fett, don’t rip off Gnarls Barkley. You’re supposed to be some original dude–so original, in fact, that you are using strings for the first time in hip hop. WHAT????? Bullcrap.
Domino’s Delivery award: Queens of the Stone Age. Homme came out like he had been playing ZONK for 4 hours, but tore it up. Joey Castillo is a badass, even if he’s laying down Dave Grohl’s stuff in many songs. You knew Queens was gonna rock–and they did.

Just Doin’ Ok award: three-way tie: Common, Dresden Dolls, Hot Chip.

Shiny Happy People award: The Go Team. Jesus. This is the happiest damn band on the planet. Like Blue’s Clues kinda happy. Or maybe Barney on speed.
Spanky realizes that his missing the Flaming Lips was probably a big mistake.

-Spanktronic 2112

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I have decided that there are often times “breaking points” in articles written by the media where they could have just stopped writing. The article is essentially then broken down into two parts; the first part (the “news”) and the second part (the additional fluff “propaganda”). I believe the reason for the seperation is so that the author feels they “did their job” at reporting “just the facts, maam.” As long as they get that out of the way early the breaking point signals them to write about anything they want from that point on. Take this article posted today as an example. The news is clearly defined. Try and identify the breaking point. It won’t be hard.

Criminals and people accused of anything publically generally have breaking points in articles about them. I see the connection, I understand a level of relevance, but seriously. A man dies and they literally wrote about his step-daughter’s husband’s alleged doping.

Yuck.

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I need to speak with the Purresidents of KFC. I made the strange decision to eat lunch there today…the plan was to get a tender roast and get out. However, today I realized that the TR (along with every other sandwich they have ever fashioned) has been scrapped in favor of the Snacker. I knew that the KFC/Nacho in my barrio had given up on all the other sandwiches, but I thought that was due to its dual nature. Today I visited a full-blown Colonel to find no sandwiches other than the snacker…so I got mine buffaloed.

Before I debunk the myth of the Snacker, I will say that they get credit for having a 99-cent product that you can buffalo. This is at least a rarity and at best a one-of-a-kind buffalo product because of the price (unless you consider a 25-cent basket of 5 shrimp doused with Frank’s at Fast Eddie’s in Alton a “buffalo” product). However, after much consideration during my “meal” today, I realized that this apparent boon to the snacker’s aura is weak at best…I could buffalo a turd and sell it for 5 cents. It would still be a buffalo product.

The snacker is KFC’s pathetic attempt to streamline its previous sandwich menu. The bun blows, and the whole experience just turns into a rainstorm of falling lettuce once you open the wrapper. The chicken is far from mee-tee, so it turns into an equal conglomeration of lettuce, batter and perhaps some fowl if you’re lucky. Finally, LOOGATHASEIZATHATHEING! It’s so small that it’s all bun…and the bun still blows. I deplore the snacker and everything it stands for…not even a little carton of potato wedges can save that thing. LAME-ASS!

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Spanky’s list of top five crimes committed at pickup soccer:

1. Holding onto the mothafuckin’ rock too long. I don’t know why dudes want to be Diego, dribble up to a defender and then try to pass. Why can’t you make the pass early–ya know, when you have some space?

2. Wearing glasses. Look man, I’m blind, too. But they’re called “contacts.” When Ghetto-Diego dribbles up to you and finally attempts his lob pass, he’s going to blast the ball off your dome, which is going to jam your glasses into your damn eyejelly, and then you’ll really be blind. You’ve been warned.
3. Not knowing offsides. Goddamnit. Go to FIFA.com and get it done. I know your defense blows and all you have going is the offsides trap you think you’re running, but it’s not going to work IF YOU DON’T KNOW THE FUCKING RULES.
4. Babbling too much. If you want to talk that much, start a knitting circle, grandma.

5. Motherfuckers who think 14-on-14 is perfectly acceptable. “What’s it matter if one more player comes on?” Your father is a failure. This isn’t YMCA Saturday ball. In the meantime, stay on the sideline and enjoy your orange slice and Capri Sun. The minivan will arrive to pick you up shortly.

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