The Bonnaroo Countdown is on!

The Jersey fists take over Manchester, TN in 91 days. Will you be there?

Today, Bonnaroo announced that this year, festivalgoers will have the chance to live their Bonnaroo dream. There will be over a dozen Xbox 360 kiosks set up in the Arcade Discotheque, which will allow yours truly to play Rock Band 2 on the big screen and wow tens of music lovers with my button mashing skills. The best party game ever comes to the biggest party of the summer. It was only a matter of time.

Speaking of which, it will only be a matter of time until the big 'Roo kicks off - in fact, June 11 is exactly 3 months from today. In just 91 measley days, the Schiff Happens caravan - space still available, inquire within - will invade Manchester, Tennessee, and I'll be damned if we don't have ourselves a good old-fashioned countdown from now until then.

Here's how it's gonna work. Every day from now until Bonnaroo, I'll pick a band from the lineup, maybe drop an interesting little knowledge nugget on you (some bit of trivia or anecdotal nonsense) and give you an audio track or a video sample of their work. With each passing day we'll get more acquainted with the musical company we'll be keeping at Bonnaroo until finally the big day will be upon us.


How much longer did he say? Only 91 days?

I have a feeling this endeavor will grow and change a lot over the course of the next 90 days. That being said, if you have a favorite band or song from among the vast initial lineup (more still to come, where are the comedians?) and you feel that you can hype them up better than I can, by all means let me know. Email me and we'll set it up. I'd love to see what others come up with.

So to kick things off, we're going to keep it real simple. With 91 days until Bonnaroo, allow me to introduce you to one of this year's headliners, playing Friday and Sunday night on the main stage... Phish! Phish are 4 dudes who started a band at the University of Vermont. Individually, Trey Anastasio, Mike Gordon, Page McConnell and Jon Fishman are incredibly talented musicians. Together, they are a revolutionary band who pioneered a movement toward group improvisation and extended jam-grooves, and pretty much the most colossal touring force in the history of music. Or, as Rolling Stone calls them, "The most important band of the Nineties." They are defined by the aforementioned qualities, as well as blending genres from rock and jazz to funk and bluegrass, hiatuses (2 extended breakups during their more than 20-year history), hosting large-scale festivals for upwards of 85,000 people at a time, and their insanely loyal fans who are willing to follow the band anywhere, pay any price, take any risk, and ingest any substance in order to enjoy just one more Phish show. The band recently reunited almost 5 years after their last farewell show, the emotional but musically underwhelming Coventry festival in Vermont. I was one of those lucky enough to wade through the mud all weekend and hear Phish sob through half-hearted versions of their once-epic hits at Coventry. Wasn't quite lucky enough to attend this weekend's festivities in Hampton, VA. Whatever, at least I didn't have to hang out with these cretins.

Anyway, Phish are back in top form and ready to rock all of our summers, so as we embark on this countdown to Bonnaroo, Phish and I welcome you to return to this space each day for just a little bit more hype. It is in that spirit that I invite you to come waste your time with me. 91 days to go, friends (and today is almost over). As always, I only want to know one thing.

Who's comin with me?

Miles away with no end in sight [Bonnaroo countdown]

aaaaaaAAAAANDD
Here we are, back where we started. 89 miles to go. Didn't really think about it too much when I decided to start this odyssey of a countdown, but Since I've committed myself to this beast, I'm starting to really ponder how slowly it will crawl along. It's a feeling not unlike the first sight of the festival car line. A joyous rush of utter jubilation is quickly ground to a literal and figurative halt, as you park your ass on the hot asphalt and begin your slow roast . You realize that you don't really know how far you have to go, or how long it's going to take. All you know is there's a line of hippies that stretches for miles, and that initial rush is replicated at random intervals when you move fractions of a foot at a time.

I actually think the countdown to summer is going to progress fairly quickly. Time tends to do that whether you're looking forward to something or not. When that moment comes for the final countdown, well... we'll know.

For now, let's meet Bonnaroo artist, MGMT. My wasted ex sent me this link to their music video for "Time To Pretend" late last night, and 21 is on right now. We've moved another 4 inches down the highway. MGMT, everybody. 89 days until Bonnaroo!



Learn all you could care to learn about MGMT by reading their head trip of an artist bio on the Bonnaroo official site (really excited to see which of these is the weirdest), or by visiting their head trip of a web site, whoismgmt.com.

90 days to Bonnaroo: Al Green [Bonnaroo Countdown]

I have to admit, as much as I love music of all types from all eras, I know next to nothing about certain artists who are recognized as "classic." Al Green is one of these. I'm already thankful that I started this countdown, because I can see that I'm going to learn a lot.

Before today, I could have sung you the chorus to "Let's Stay Together," and would have known "Take Me To The River" only because a cover version later became a greatest hit for another member of this year's Bonnaroo lineup (and one of my personal favorites). Beyond that, if you had said, "Al Green" to me before today, I would have had little response to offer besides the customary Jamie Foxx, "Al Green...Al Green, a-heeeeyyyyy!"

But look at all this great knowledge I have now... Al was the sixth of ten children. He had 4 Gold singles on his second LP, 1970's Al Green Gets Next To You. He became Pastor Al when he was ordained by the Full Gospel Tabernacle in Memphis in 1976. He was assaulted by his crazy girlfriend in 1974. When he refused to marry her (even though she was already married) she doused him with a pot of boiling hot grits while he was (holy shit!) in the shower.

Knowledge, knowledge, everywhere, and I consider myself better for it. Of course, the only real way to get to know an artist is through their art, so I'm going to go ahead and put on the big headphones as and venture down Al Green boulevard. Whether you're a lifelong fan or a lame-ass n00b like this guy, sit back and enjoy this fantastically '70s rendition of "Sha La La" along with me. Ladies and gentlemen, the soulful stylings of Mr. Al Green!



UPDATE: Groovin to "Love and Happiness," picking up on the J5 sample. I knew I'd like Al Green. Don't worry, Smellson, I promise I won't miss his set.

Get your Green on :

Al Green's albums
Al Green Wiki
Al Green Official Site
Al Green Bonnaroo artist bio

All this spring makes me feel like partying

Wow, looks like I'm doing a real bang-up job of that whole not skipping days in the Bonnaroo countdown thing. I'm gonna have to start doing what I should have been doing all along, which is writing like 12 of these at a time and just letting them post, automated style. I kind of enjoy adding artists based on what I'm feeling at the moment, or relevant stories, but that's obviously not going to make for a very effective countdown. I'll find the balance. For now, it's the weekend, the weather is gorgeous and snow-free, and the fam is headed into town for baby bro's big 16th birthday celebration. All this awesomeness makes me wanna party.

(Cue Bonnaroo artist Paul Oakenfold... uuntz uuntz uuntz uuntz)

I kinda feel like partying right now.

As you may already be aware, Paul Oakenfold is a legendary DJ/remixer. He has sold millions of albums and hosted epic shows all over the world, from Ibiza to the Great Wall of China. You've heard more of his work than you probably even realize. If you don't know who he is, I really don't know what to tell you. Go to his official site or, I don't know, just put on the freakin radio, you're bound to hear some Oakenfold at some point.

Oakenfold's Bonnaroo set is destined to be a late night banger. With 80,000 screaming hippies, fist-pumpers and rednecks, it's gonna be some kind of rowdy. For now there are still 81 days until we find out if I packed my Party Boy outfit with my 'Roo gear. And if that image offends you, I'll apologize, but I won't take off my glasses. They're effin famous.

And that's how you party.

Ticketmaster hates Phish fans [Another Epic Fail]

Well, it happened. Luckily, nobody but a couple of fackers and, according to the stats, no less than seven of their lovable lady friends noticed it, but yesterday was the first flat tire along the Schiff Happens road to Bonnaroo. Yes, friends, I skipped a day on the Bonnaroo countdown.

I have no excuse for this egregious error, but here are some potentially reasonable explanations as to why this happened:

1. I have an actual job with actual work to do that doesn't involve sarcastic riffs on Philly sucking, the biggest loser in the history of reality television, or mustaches.
   
2. I spent a few hours back at the doctor's office, including a subway voyage from work to the Upper East Side that was a pile of fail at every turn for absolutely no reason. On the plus side, I received a clean bill of health and was able to conclude my 24 hour Holter experiment, which ended with the same nurse who had hooked me up to the device on Tuesday violently ripping electrodes off of my torso and saying, "I told you it was gonna hurt." Of course, she saved the lone electrode that was deeply embedded in chest hair (the rest were on the sides of my abdomen) for last, building the nervous anticipation for my unplanned partial chest waxing. I may or may not have exclaimed "IAMSPARTACUS!" at the moment of detachment.
3. I participated in the latest chapter of "How to Lose Friends and Alienate People," authored by the friendly scalpers at Ticketmaster. I smell a story....

Around 8:30 last night, Ticketmaster released a bunch of 4-day passes for Phish's just-announced late July/early August run at Morrison, Colorado's renowned Red Rocks Amphitheatre. It will be Phish's first shows at Red Rocks since their infamous 1996 visit, and tickets don't go on sale to the general public until next Thursday (Umm, I mean next Friday. Yes... next Friday...). The pre-sale lottery registration isn't even complete yet, so this gives you an idea of just how random it was that these tickets -- and 4-day passes for the entire event, no less -- would have been released at 8:29 last night. I found out about this the same way I find out about anything worth finding out about -- Twitter (shameless follow me plug).

As soon as I saw this was happening, I went into frenzy mode. I @replied to a Twitter user called @imtrappedintime, the first person I saw tweet about the secretly released tickets. Feeling like I was working within an extremely limited time window, I eschewed the phone and instead instant messaged anyone I could find online who might care. I navigated the Ticketmaster site and, to my amazement, broke through to an order page. I actually backed out, with tickets in hand, out of sheer disbelief. I was able to get through a second time (nothing short of a miracle if you recall what happened the last time Phish tickets went on sale), and was staring at a 4-day, General Admission pass to what will no doubt be the jewel of the late summer tour. At this point, I am simultaneously having two separate IM conversations that both look something like this:

ZOMGPHISHPASSESONSALEWTF?!?! What do we do? Do we buy them? Are we even going to go? Is this real? WTF is going on? Should I click submit? I'm gonna click submit. Did you submit? What do I do what do I do WHATDOIDO I'MFREAKINOUT!!!

I don't know what came over me, but once my UVA fraternity buddy said he had submitted his request, I had to do it. Spontaneous $200 purchases for events that are months away and will be taking place across the country generally do not show up anywhere in the Schiff Happens playbook. It's just not something I do. But I did it. And then I waited....

I waited instead of celebrating, mostly because even after I saw that my order had gone through, I found it impossible to believe that any of what had just transpired was real. How had it happened? Was there a friendly fan working for Ticketmaster? Was it a planned move by the band to thwart second-party scalpers (this was a prevailing rumor immediately after the tickets became unavailable again)? Was it simply a glitch that would inevitably be heartbreakingly corrected? There was no way to know for sure, and thus no way to be anything but cautiously optimistic. At least not for a couple of minutes, until, sure enough, I got the confirmation email. Then the payment hold on my online checking account statement. Holy shit, it was really happening. I scored the motherlovin golden ticket!



And then, a few short hours later, I met Slugworth in a back alley, and he buttfucked that golden ticket right out of my hands. In an epic case of, "I never should have gotten my hopes up because it was always too good to be true," Ticketmaster declared that the tickets had been released in error, and that all orders would be canceled.

Now, Ticketmaster is apparently within their rights to do this in the event of this kind of unintended premature sale, as their terms of service (which I am quite aware that I agreed to simply by clicking "Submit Purchase") state. However, in light of the aforementioned LiveNation disaster, the controversy surrounding the Ticketmaster/LiveNation merger, and recent condemnation of their shady practices from influential artists like Trent Reznor and Bruce Springsteen (throw a fist!), I can't help but think of all the great PR Ticketmaster would have received if they had simply decided to let the purchases stand. They could have said, "We effed ourselves a little bit, but scores of loyal fans got tickets, and that's ultimately what Ticketmaster is here to provide." Instead, they bent us all over and stole our Everlasting Gobstoppers. Again. As usual.



It stings to have the Golden Ticket in hand momentarily only to see it ripped away, but in the end, I'm no worse off right now than I was when I woke up yesterday. I've put in my official lottery request, and I'll be damned if I'm not due to win one of these things. I'm remaining optimistic, but my experience last night taught me that I'll always have to be prepared to be let down as long as Ticketmaster/LiveNation is the only way for me to procure the tickets necessary to go see the live music that I love so much.

The point, dear reader, is that I got wrapped up in other things and lost sight of my goal -- those Bonnaroo festival gates, miles from sight, inviting me to join the summer's biggest party. However, there's no reason to fret. We've still got our spot in line and will continue to count it down from here on out. In light of this most recent Ticketmaster disaster, I think it's only right that we pick up the countdown with a little bit of Bonnaroo artist Nine Inch Nails. Between Mr. Reznor's aforementioned tirade against Ticketmaster, and the fact that several of Nine Inch Nails' albums -- The Downward Spiral, Further Down the Spiral, Pretty Hate Machine -- could be used to describe the company, it just makes sense. I've always been fascinated by NIN but a little bit too terrified to fully dive into their catalog, so I look forward to freaking the living piss out of myself as I prepare myself for their set at the 'Roo just 83 short days from today.*



UPDATE: Phish have issued their official response. Nothing really surprising there. The bigger update is that Ticketmaster sent me and the rest of the melancholoy Phishheads a letter explaining the situation, which included the following conciliatory paragraph:

In addition, we’d like to show our sincere regret for this error by providing you with a gift certificate in the amount of $50.00 that is redeemable for any purchase for tickets to qualifying events on Ticketmaster.com or through our call centers as long as your order was in accordance with our standard order guidelines. You should receive this gift certificate in the next two weeks.
We are sorry that we were not able to provide you with the tickets you ordered and hope that we will have the chance to serve you better in the future. We encourage you to visit Ticketmaster at the scheduled onsale for Phish at Red Rocks currently scheduled for Thursday March 26, 2009 at 12:00 pm MT.

So some small bit of good has come out of this... I guess. "We set you up for heartbreak -- oops, our bad -- but please enjoy this 50 dollars, which you can attempt to use next week as you inevitably get shut out of the same tickets you already had in your hand because we've sold them all to scalpers."

Fuckmylife Ticketmaster.

*If you don't want your precious childhood memories corrupted forever, or if you hate to laugh, then don't watch Kermit the Frog's rendition of "Hurt."

Will I want some moe.? [Bonnaroo Countdown]

moe. will be at Bonnaroo this year, which in all honesty would have excited me much more at my first and only Bonnaroo back in 2005. There was a time when I was as geeked for moe. as any band out there. My first ever concert New Years was spent with moe. in Camden in 2003. They played "Let It Be" to ring in 2004 as the clock hit midnight. A few months later, my moe.-crush was at an all-time peak when the band rolled into Charlottesville for a gig at Starr Hill Brewery.

I'm pretty sure Starr Hill is closed now, which is a shame because it really was the best small-ish venue around for seeing live music. The combination of microbrewery/restaurant downstairs and 500-person concert hall upstairs was the perfect party atmosphere. moe. must have felt the same vibe, because when they took the stage, they announced that they'd be playing a special all acoustic show. They insisted that they had never done so before, and if there are any PhantasyTour wonks among you, feel free to look up the stats and prove me wrong. What's more, we had staked out a spot that basically put us on the stage nearly 2 hours before showtime. I suppose we did this because we weren't yet 21 and couldn't drink, but more than likely we were just that hyped for moe. The show inevitably ended up being the classic awesome live music perfect storms. Your high anticipation is placed in a perfect venue alongside great friends, and a unique twist is put on the show that allows you to feel ownership over the experience as something only you and a handful of others got to share. The music was great, as you can tell from the set list. Our proximity actually caused a bit of a concertgoer moral dilemma, as I had to try very hard at certain points not to look at what was coming next. Of course, there was no dilemma when it came to whether or not we were going to share with our new friend, who I'll simply refer to as Animal.

The only bad thing about the awesome live music perfect storm is that you can go your whole life waiting for another one that never comes, and this is what happened to me with moe. Every time I would go to see them after that night, I'd hold the show against the standard set by the Starr Hill perfect storm. Every time, it fell slightly short. I've had great live moe. experiences since Starr Hill '04, from the time Smellson, Wurm and I had to carry our friend out of Roseland Ballroom after she passed out without even drinking, to just last year when I fist-pumped out to their rendition of "America, Fuck Yeah" July 4th at the Stone Pony while fireworks exploded over Asbury Park, New Jersey. However, none of those shows compared with that night in Charlottesville.

Tough to top being this close to the action.

I feel like I've hung around with moe. for so long that I owe it to them at this point to stop by their Bonnaroo set, but I'm old and wise enough to know not to expect anything from them that I haven't already seen at this point. Maybe they'll reach into their bag of tricks one more time, prove me wrong, and transport me back to 2004. 88 days until we find out.

Rebubula - moe.

Like a groundhog coming out of hibernation [bonnaroo countdown]

Today was what March in New York is supposed to feel like. Balmy, but not cold, bluish, but not cloudless sky. A perfect day to begin to emerge from the long, frigid odyssey that is winter in the City with a brisk Sunday stroll through Central Park. My music of choice for the occasion was Bon Iver's For Emma, Forever Ago -- a fitting choice, given that it was composed during a three month hibernation in a remote cabin in Wisconsin.

Bon Iver is one of many new artists in this year's Bonnaroo lineup that I have heard great things about but haven't really gotten into yet. The abundance of artists fitting into this category is one of the things about the festy that I'm most excited about.

I'll be interested to see how he brings his sound to the stage, but for now I can definitely endorse it for people- and amateur bird-watching walks at the first real hint of spring.

Bon Iver -- For Emma, Forever Ago

Unrelated completely -- watching Flight of the Conchords makes me really hope that they end up on the Bonnaroo ticket as a comedy act. It makes too much sense for it not to happen. If they're already scheduled to play elsewhere that weekend, go ahead and let me know, but I don't believe they are.

Strikes and Gutters, Ups and Downs

It's been a long, draining week -- the kind that leaves you shaking your head, speechless, numb. When faced with a similar situation toward the end of The Big Lebowski (perhaps my favorite movie of all time, and one that has been there for me time after time), the flawed, if not passionate, Walter Sobchak is left with just one timeless thought:

"Aww, fuck it Dude. Let's go bowling."

I always thought that meant that when times get shitty, you turn to the things that have always been there to comfort you, even if they seem excessively ordinary and couldn't possibly offer more than a momentary escape. Maybe deep symbolism was never intended. Either way, I'm goin bowlin tonight.

Appropriately enough, as I ready myself for my first ever NYC bowling experience, I find an abundance of Dudeness on the interwebs. First:

"The New York Yankees have announced the addition of strictly kosher food offerings and Shabbat accommodations at their November 2009 and January 2010 Fantasy Camps. Glatt kosher food will be provided by Weberman Foods with OK supervision, and a Friday “Dream Game” will be played so Shomer Shabbat Jews can participate."

Walter would certainly be there, except he has to take Cynthia's Pomeranian bowling while she and Marty Ackerman are in Hawaii.
Walter Sobchak Approves [Fack Youk]

And secondly, Bonnaroo thought they didn't completely make my summer enough when they brought Phish, Bruce and the Beastie Boys (arguably the 3 cornerstones of my proverbial musical pyramid) together under one festival, so they decided to throw in their very own Lebowski Fest at the air-conditioned Bonnaroo Cinema tent. I guess now I need to bring along my purple Jesus Quintana bowling outfit in addition to my big suit. The big 'Roo starts exactly 2 weeks from today. There's your long overdue countdown alert. Meet me there for a much needed White Russian.
Bonnaroo Cinema [Bonnaroo.com]

The Dude abides.
I don't know about you, but I take comfort in that.

The Worst Year Ever is Finally Over [It's safe to come out!]

Well hey there, stinky britches! Didn't see you hangin around. I thought everyone had left. I certainly got the hell out of there. I guess after the Thriller was gone I just couldn't see a reason anymore.

Look, I have no idea why I abruptly vanished from these airwaves way back in June. This year just sort of shook out that way. Sure, the good moments included some all-time memories, and I intend to give thanks for that. However, for me, navigating through 2009 mostly felt like spelunking through a long, dark cavern of suck. I know I'm young in the big scheme of things, but this was by far the worst year I have ever experienced. And so, with that in mind, Schiff Happens presents to you not the Best Of, but simply "The Rest Of 2009." Here's hoping that we remember the few good times and otherwise ready ourselves to say good riddance to bad rubbish in the final moments of this decade. I can't promise that 2010 will be better, but can it really get any worse?

I guess I should probably begin where I so rudely left off by finishing the story of Bonnaroo. The short version is that we saw a bunch more music, attended the lamest Lebowski-Fest of all time, and witnessed the coming-true of my live music wet dream - Bruce and Phish, together on stage - from the front freaking row. Now you might be thinking to yourself, "Schiff, what in your wide fist-pumping world could possibly top rocking out to a Trey vs. Bruce 'Glory Days' guitar battle from mere feet away?" And you'd be right to ponder that question - until you heard the tale of Schiff's Epic Bonnaroo '09 Springsteen Miracle.

This isn't even the greatest story to come out of Bonnaroo '09. I know, seriously.

Saturday night's E Street set was obviously the most anticipated moment for our Bonnaroo group, and we decided we were going to rock out from the pit, or not rock at all. This proved to be excessively easy, as all we had to do was stand in a line beside the main stage while watching Wilco's set. Tough life, I know. Soon enough after Wilco finished up, the line was moving and we were there. And I mean there. Front row. Center. FIST. I had come prepared with my new video camera, knowing that I wouldn't want to miss a moment. The show came and went and E Street of course brought the power, as they do night after night after night after night. You all have seen the setlist by now so you know all the highlights (If you haven't, Backstreets has your back. Light scrolling required). Growin' Up. Thunder Road. Hell, Santa Claus even came to town. But what made this show a life-changer for me and our crew was our spot. When Bruce came down into the crowd during the "Badlands" opener, we were feet away. When Bruce brought a delirious hippie chick out of the crowd to Courtney Cox with him during "Dancing in the Dark," we could hear her squealing with joy. And when The Boss motioned for all of E Street to join him in the crowd for the final flourish of "American Land," we were feet away from the most hard-rockin accordion you ever saw. After that, I knew I'd only be able to see a Springsteen show from the floor for the rest of my life. How could I return to the seats after that experience? The best part? I captured all the highlights in 720p thanks to my trusty camcorder.

Needless to say, after the show we were wiped, so we took a seat toward the back of the main stage field to reflect and munch on some snacks. With the big stage closing for the night, a nearby festival vendor started shouting, "Free food!" Clearly we jumped at the opportunity, powered through a plate of some sort of festival grub or another, and headed back towards Centeroo to get started on Saturday's late night sessions. Approaching the fountain, I paused for one of my famous paranoid patdowns, checking each of my pockets for vitals. Wallet. Check. Phone. Check. Car key. Check. Video camera... Video camera?! In my haste to get up and chow down on free food, I had forgotten to grab the camera, which I had taken out of my back pocket and placed on the ground beside me so as not to crush it when I sat down. I grabbed my brother and cousin and we raced back toward the main stage.

Predictably, the entire area was closed off, with security guards flanking the entrances. I pleaded my case with a few of them to no avail. "Please!" I begged. "I know exactly where we were sitting!" Refusing to resign myself to the lost and found, I raised my voice one last time and demanded to speak to someone in charge. An older gentleman approached, looked me in the eye and asked if I could really take him to the exact spot where we were. "If I don't," I replied, "then you can give me a hard time. How about that?" He agreed and we were off again, trying to put as much distance between him and us so as to maximize our search time. I mean, I had an idea of where we had been, but it was dark and that field is huge. Soon we reached what I thought was the spot and frantically started looking around. I noticed an enormous truck circling the premises and feared that I'd find my camera in the shape of a pancake. My brother and cousin weren't seeing it. The truck passed by. Still nothing. My body froze over in a cold sweat. Then I heard someone calling out to me. It was the security geezer. He had caught up to us. My heart sank, fearing our last gasp was over. I honestly don't even remember what he said to me. All I remember is looking up, and seeing him toss something towards me. A black pouch. My camera case. Inside...the camera, fully intact! In that moment, my friends, I became the Luckiest Guy at Bonnaroo '09.

The true miracle here isn't just that we found the camera. It's that if we had not, the world would have been deprived of this. And this. And of course this. And you wouldn't all get to relive with me the greatest moment of my concert-going life. Observe below and enjoy while I steel myself for the rest of what I have to believe is the first-ever "Rest Of" countdown. Clearly I thought that the highs of '09 were few and far between enough to include in a single post, but we're going to have to make this a multi-parter. I promise I won't abandon you like last time. Believe in the Promised Land that is 2010.

Flight of the Conchords, Easbound and Down end, one maybe forever? [the one without music, kind of]

Even as I watched last night, I knew that Flight of the Conchords might be coming to an end (SPOILER ALERT...damn I hate that "spoiler alert" bullshit. Am I really spoiling anything? You're gonna watch it or not regardless. Bah, anyway). I dutifully watched on, and I have to say that if their tale ends where it started -- as two lonely deadbeat shepherds, tending their flock in the New Zealand countryside with nothing but the music inside to guide them -- then godspeed, Conchords. I will miss them if they're gone, but I consider my life enriched for having joined them for their short time on my HBO.

The (potential) ending of Flight of the Conchords... forever (reviewed here). <---That would be the previously alerted spoiler. I claimed lack of funds when tickets for their Radio City shows went on sale, and now that we may have said our final goodbye to HBO Conchords, I'm kind of wishing I were going to see Live Conchords in April. I haven't received an email from Bonnaroo in about a week, and they still haven't announced any comedy acts, so this will be my Bonnaroo mention for the day (no artist countdown today. Schiff Happens may have been a musical collection back in the day, but I don't want anyone to feel like they can't come here and read something without me telling them what music to listen to). It's something I've said before, but since this could be the last time I see New Zealand's fourth most popular folk comedy duo, I must say it again. Bonnaroo, do the right thing and get Brett and Jemaine on the comedy stage. The fanbase will definitely show up.

If Flight of the Conchords is indeed over, then I hope that its end means the beginning of what I want to believe will be a great comedy series, Eastbound and Down. After spending this entire first season trying to get behind the notion that the down on his luck, sack of shit, John Rocker-inspired Kenny Powers could actually redeem himself, we find out that the lowest depths of his loserdom are yet to come. I can't wait to see what kind of hell he's capable of raising when he's truly down. Plus, I gotsta see me some more of April Bigcannons (who by the way lost a bunch of weight by the end of the season. Way to go, Katy Mixon, you are indeed a babe--6:10 is the magic mark in the link, best YouTube has to offer). I'll be tuned in the next time that mullet rolls back into town.


Kenny Powers is a winner. He's a fucking bulletproof tiger. And that's why he'll be back on top, soon enough.

The best part of HBO, of course, is that there are no commercials. However, there are 2 commercials out right now that I will watch any day:

The McDonald's filet-o-fish commercial might have almost worn out its welcome during the first 2 rounds of the NCAA tournament, when it was on incessantly, but when great intellects from Wale to The Chad tell me they can't get enough of this, I'm forced to pay attention.

Tell me you haven't found yourself alone in your home, doing some mundane task, and without warning letting out a rendition of that time-honored hook. "Give me that fiiiish!"

Next, my childhood hero has been reduced to a chocolate-shilling, slightly doughier version of his former self, but Patrick acts the same way he played -- with the heart of a warrior. "What's up, Ryan?" That's how you dominate.

How can you not love the center, at seven feet from Georgetown, throwing it down in full knee pads?

Rupert Jee does not appreciate your blog neglect

I get so mad at myself each time i come back to one of these blog neglect posts. I'm going to do the same thing this time as I always have when confronted with a dearth of inspiration or an apparent lack of available hours in the day: resolve to write more, stay creating, and soak up all the things that make me happy.

There really has been a ton going on, too. It's like the boulder has just begun gathering steam, and I get the feeling that summer is going to get here and crush everything in its path like a steamroller. But that's no excuse not to express something close to a story, an insight, a joke, a passing thought, a couple of times a week. If anything, I should have that much more to say.

What bothers me most is that while I haven't been posting, I've been tweeting away at the exact same rate as I ever have (as you can see just to your left in ye olde sidebar). I've definitely used twitter as a crutch, which is ridiculous because twitter sucks now anyway (SuperNews, you're really outdoing yourselves).

I guess I'll close for now with a story I've been meaning to tell for too long. Two weeks ago I was on my way to play volleyball for (soon to be ZogSports' first ever Schportng Sampler champions) team Purple Haze when I had a little bogus celebrity moment. My schporting activities are a different post entirely, but I got you, don't worry.

So I'm walking down 53rd St, and I realize I'm going to need some H20 for the game. I follow what looks to be a father/son duo - a pair of slightly portly fellows wearing matching 5k race shirts and looking like they could use some hydration themselves - into the first storefront I pass. Glancing inside I can see a deli counter and a fridge with cold beverages. Perfect.

I don't even realize I'm in Hello Deli until I go to reach for my water and I have to excuse myself around a photo op with Dad and the one and only Rupert Jee. Now, being a bit of a big deal myself, I'm not at all thrown by the sight of one of New York's most beloved late show punch lines. The Dad in the 5k race t-shirt, however, is awestruck, thanking Rupert and telling him, "I've been in here before, but you weren't around." Grabbing two Poland Springs out of the fridge, I can't help but overhear Rupert's response:

"Hey, man, I gotta work."

And I smile.

UPDATE: Wow, this is why I love the internet. A Google image search for Rupert Jee reveals a pretty damn accurate approximation of the exact photo op moment I accidentally walked into. Only difference is instead of me grabbing bottles of water in the background, there appears to be a sweat-soaked Kevin Youkilis struggling to interpret the directions on his beverage.

Oh, and one last thing. Looks like that Countdown to Bonnaroo really worked out. Riiiiight. So, about that -- the last countdown mention came with 65 days to go. As I type, we are exactly 30 days away froom the Big Rooskie.


Well you better learn to move fast when you're young or you're not long around
Cat somehow lost his Kitty down in the city pound
So get right, get tight, get down
Well who's that down at the end of the alley?
She's been gone so long

Walking in a central park [fresh air]

Unless you've been suffering from short-term memory loss, you'll recall that I took myself on a walk around central park yesterday to awaken myself from hibernation a little bit. Upon emerging from my den, I immediately found myself involved in my first attempt at amateur bird-watching. I followed this little rascal down a path and got as close as I could to his perch.

Not a spectacular pic by any means, but not bad for a first attempt, I think.

I got to cross one more item off the Murray Hewitt Bandshell tour of New York City when I stopped to watch some kids lining up soccer shots at a goalie waiting on the stage of the Naumberg Bandshell. Scenes at Naumburg Bandshell were featured in Hair, I'm Not Rappaport, Breakfast at Tiffanys and Mighty Aphrodite. Are you listening, Jemaine?

This guy came over and jumped in for just one shot, and he made it count.

I believe this move is from the original Street Fighter arcade game.

Venturing on, I happened past this disturbing chalk drawing of some sort of squid-like creature that belongs the credits of Superbad.

If you look closely you'll see the phrase, "OH HAI!" beside the creature, which actually makes this monstrosity the elusive Giant LOLsquid.

As I came around a bend in the path, the mellow, acoustic ambiance of Bon Iver quickly gave way to Central Park Roller Soul Train. This part of the walking tour is best accompanied by a the mashup mastery of Bonnaroo artist Girl Talk. And there's your countdown, kids -- 86 days! Cheeky bastard.

Ironically, it takes years of practice to master this incredibly useless skill. But whatever keeps you dancin' man.

At the end of my trek I ultimately snapped what were probably the best pictures of the outing.

Congratulations, you've made it through Monday. The week is officially underway, which means the weekend can't be far off. Godspeed.