Everybody's writing about how bad the Grammys sucked this week, so it's extremely fortunate that instead of sitting at home yelling at the television, I was seeing Weezer give a kick-ass performance at the Austin Music Hall. Everyone that was supposed to go didn't get to go. My brother got in trouble with my parents and decided he didn't want to come. Rebecca got super sick this week with a weird more-than-allergies/less-than-flu problem. So Andy, Greg and my friend Yvonne went instead. We had a great time (although I suspect Greg didn't dig on Weezer so much), even if the opening band sucked. I'll tell you how bad they sucked later.
But about the Grammys? This is all I have to say and this will be the end of it:
Steely fucking Dan?!?!
That is all.
Oh, so back to the Weezer concert: There were two bands that opened for them. The first one was finishing up as we arrived. By the time we'd settled into our second set of beers, this next band goes up.
Like no band has ever sucked in the history of sucking.
I won't say who they are, because I believe in protecting the innocence of those who don't realize they suck so hard.
But if you check out Yahoo's "Out Loud" tour page (we had a lot of fun making fun of the gay pride connotations of that: "We're here, we've got beer, get used to it!") you can see who the second band playing was. I also won't name them because I'm afraid their suckage will infect this site and I'll have to shut it down.
They sucked so bad that hookers regularly come up to them begging to know how they suck so well, because if they possessed that knowledge, these women of the night would be millionaires.
Carl Sagan died trying to figure out the mysteries of how they suck, and why black holes routinely collapse upon themselves, yet this band keeps playing their shit-ass songs in city after city.
Their suckage was a sweet nectar that only the most hardened of deaf people could possibly hope to stomach. Even the tactile sensation of their crap sound waves are enough to paralyze a yak.
How amazing that there are musicians who will never need straws because they are their own self-contained instrument of suck.
Yvonne begged me to find a knife so I could stab her in the eye. Greg and Andy kept making runs to the bathroom and ATM machine just to get out of the range of suckage.
They were loud and screechy and the lead "singer" didn't at all live up to his job title.
The nice thing, though, was that by the end of their "set," my body had been sucked for so long that I have become completely ionized and now repel lint. So I'll never have to buy a lint brush.
Did I mention that they sucked?
The mounds in my neighborhood are multiplying. I took a drive down my street (all 1,000 yards of it) and saw the same disturbing piles of very brown dirt.
The manhole, if you'll recall, is on my corner of the street. Why are their piles and dirt on the opposite end of the street?
And where is the dirt coming from? Not from the manholes, right? How is this even possible? Who's responsible for this? When are they gonna find the place for these 13 dirt mounds (I counted) on St. Edward's Circle?
Clearly, these aren't road crews at all, but mobsters burying their monthly quota of stool pigeons and uncooperative zoning commissioners.
I mean, what better hiding place? Who's going to think to look for dead bodies in a nice neighborhood? And we're all ready to believe them.
The only other rational explanation I can think of is that they are Pod People who are slowly converting the denizens of my 'hood into slobbering, hulking, mindless slaves to the system.
I mean, even more than they were before.
So if they started on the other end of the street, that means it's only a matter of time before they get to me. You will still read the site if it consists solely of alien propaganda and subtle invitations to join us, JOIN US, JOIN US!!, won't you?
I went out at night and took stealthy pictures, all X-Files-like, to show you this insidious takeover. My neighbors were probably wondering why I was going into their yards to take photos in the dead of night, but who cares? They're all Pod People anyway.
St. Carmenmirandus: Patron Saint of wearing fruit on your head.