Tonight, that empty space you've felt in your heart since January will once again be filled with creepin, gorillas, grenades, and of course, the business. Tonight, we beat up the beat. Tonight, tits are comin' out. Tonight - God bless me, it's fuckin summah - Jersey Shore returns for Season Two!
My fellow GTL-iens... REJOICE!
In case you forgot (although how could you have?), I've pasted your Official Jersey Shore Drinking Game rules below. I can only assume that we'll have to make some updates to the rules once we have a better sense of the Season 2 dynamic. As always, suggestions welcome. Blend up some RonRon juice and enjoy.
I'm so glad it's back.
The Jersey Shore Drinking Game, Official Rules:
1. The names of all the housemates are put into a hat and each person draws one. If you're drinking with more than 6 people, just put the names back and draw again until everyone has their housemate. When your guido talks to the camera, take a drink.
2. If anyone actually calls Snooki "Snooki," finish your drink.
4. If the housemates all sit down for family dinner, everybody does a toast and takes a healthy chug. Except for whoever has Sammi Sweetheart - she's excluded from chicken cutlet night. She also has to refill the cup of whoever has The Situation... that ungrateful Flintstone big toe havin' bitch.
5. When they fist pump, we fist pump. Any fist pumping battle scene starts a waterfall. Everyone drinks while fist pumping and doesn't stop doing either until there's no more fist pumping happening on screen.
6. And of course, no Jersey Shore drinking game would be complete without this BASEketball-inspired rule: Do a shot every time a fight breaks out!
Happy July, everyone! Only 28 days to get your GTL on before the guidos are back in our lives. Keep those new rules coming for the Official Jersey Shore Drinking Game and as always, watch out for grenades.
Jersey Shore returns to MTV on July 29, but thankfully we don't have to wait that long for our first look at Season 2. Courtesy of Vulture, here's the full first segment of Episode 1. Nearly 15 minutes of fist-pumping fury, highlights of which include:
Sitch Sorentino and Pauly D vs. Shnooks and JenniWoww in a road trip race to Miami. Each team of super best friends wants first pick of rooms. Only one duo will emerge victorious, presumably when the other loses control of the car while applying a fresh coat of bronzer and explodes in a hairspray-fueled fireball.
Sammi and Ronnie broke up! How completely unexpected! We did not see this coming! As they down the RonRon juice, Ronnie's boys tell him to give the other guys shit for the "double baggers" they bring home.
Snooks has a gorilla juicehead boyfriend of her very own! She cooks him dinner! ("How many balls do you want? I want two. In my face." Because she's cooking meatballs! Snookums is punny!) They are totally in love after two blissful months together and she says she doesn't want to cheat. She definitely will after a few shots of SoCo, she says, but not because she wants to.
Trashbags returns! Angelina has apparently stayed in touch with The Situation and Pauly D, who she may or may not have sexed, and is heading down to Miami for her second chance at lifelong friendships and memories reality whore superstardom. Her first stop on the road to redemption: A Brazilian wax. That'll show those jealous bitches who keeps it classy.
Snooki discovers fried pickles at a diner in Georgia. World, ROCKED.
And also Vinny was there or something.
Watch the video and get (fist) pumped. July 29 will be here before you know it, so get your GTL on and stay fresh to death. I'll be here getting some new rules together for the Jersey Shore Drinking Game. Be sure to send in your suggestions!
I believe that's DJ Pauly Polka in the center, rocking the first ever blowout. And there's Claus Von Situationsteinn right up in his grill - a truly epic moment in photography capturing the original Bavarian Beat Battle.
To be honest, with all the Jersey Shore parodies and spoofs we've seen, I'm actually shocked we haven't seen a Fist Pump Polka from the king of all parodies. I would gladly pay money to see this happen, especially since I haven't already paid to see Weird Al in concert twice in my life. Nope, definitely never did that....
Last night was noteworthy as far as Schiff Happens late night tv watching is concerned, which is completely unrelated to the fact that this post is first going up around 3pm. Completely unrelated.
First, Adam Sandler made a fantastic appearance on the Tonight Show as one of Conan OBrien's final guests (check the full show here to see how Conan wasted $1.5 million of NBC's money, and witness the return of an old furry friend). Sandler, rocking the faded green Jets tee (Gang Green don't say I never gave you any love!), serenaded the host and revealed the story of how he and Chris Farley didn't leave Saturday Night Live on their own terms but were actually fired by NBC in 1995 despite being pretty much the funniest humans on the planet at the time. The moment recalled better days at SNL and NBC, when Conan, Sandler, Farley and a generation of standard-bearing comedians collaborated each week to produce some of the most hilarious moments we've ever witnessed. But it also served to show that genius truly is so often unappreciated in its time. The interview fittingly ended when Sandler summed
things up with his then-manager's reaction to the situation those 15 years ago (and Smellson's new favorite quote from now on I can almost guarantee), "NBC: Nothin But C***s!"
After that, I caught "Jersey Shore: Spoof'd!" on MTV. It has apparently been rerunning for a week already, but try as I might, I can't be everywhere this insanely overexposed show is all the time, so I was seeing it for the first time. It was a collection of all the spoofs and sketches that have been passed around to no end since the show stormed into our lives as the greatest reality train wreck in television history, and was noteworthy for just one reason: If the guidos liked a clip, they threw a fist pump as a seal of approval, complete with a fancy graphic.
This is important because, as my tens of faithful readers will no doubt concur, the whole gimmick, is just a repackaged ripoff of The Jersey Fist - my Jersey Fist! I invented rating things on a scale of fist pumps, damn it! I had even just recently resized this photo, featured in this post, to serve as our new official Jersey Fist in future posts.
It's the same as MTV's graphic! Unbelievable. These are the perils of being famous. You pay homage to the glory of the great Garden State and a bunch of Sleaseside guidos rip you off.
So how do we plan to fire back at this outrage, you ask? Well, Schiff Happens is here to officially announce the Jersey Shore Boycott! Won't you join me? Just say "No" to guidos!
Just kidding. I could never stay mad at you, Shnookieshpookies. Finale party is officially on tonight, and the RonRon juice will be flowing! Drop me a line for details. Until then, can we please get Snooks into one of those Snickers commercials? I can see it now...
Inside Karma, a crowd of guidos are battling on the floor.
Voiceover: "Hungry? Grab a Snickers!"
Russ aka "Ron" grabs Snooki and takes her for a piggy-back ride to the beach, where he proceeds to not fuck her. Snooki returns to the house, dejected.
Snookers: "Waaahhh! Nobody wants to f*** me in this town! What the f***?! I'm the f***ing Princess of F***ing Poughkeepsie!"
RonRon: "Still not smushed, err, satisfied? Would you f*** a Gatorade bottle at this point? Try one of these."
Tosses Snickers a Snickers, who voraciously sucks the nuts out of the candy bar, then proceeds to do herself with it.
It's here! It's here! After a long, frigid week, a brand new episode Jersey Shore is finally here again!
I have no idea how many episodes are left, but this week the housemates are taking a road trip to Atlantic City, which seems to me like a last big hurrah before winding down to a finale. If that's the case, it's time to take a cue from Snooki and start living it up!
No more bitching out like Sammi and Ronnie - henceforth, every minute of Jersey Shore is your last (Yes, for now let's ignore the insanely awesome rumor that the entire cast is coming back for a second season). It's time to put on your bedazzled fleur de lis tee and creep like you've never creeped before! Battle that beat like your life depended on it! Get your GTL on every dam day! Suck the ever-lovin shit out of that Vlasic! For goodness sake punch someone in the damn face! These are the precious final moments - cherish them, people!
In that spirit, here's the Official Jersey Shore Drinking Game (or at least the one that about a dozen of us played last week). For authenticity, you can blend up some RonRon juice like we did - "Whenever that shit comes out, it's always a filthy night" - but all you really need is plenty of beer and a stash of liquor for the occasional shot. Happy fist pumping!
The Jersey Shore Drinking Game, Official Rules:
1. The names of all the housemates are put into a hat and each person draws one. If you're drinking with more than 6 people, just put the names back and draw again until everyone has their housemate. When your guido talks to the camera, take a drink.
2. If anyone actually calls Snooki "Snooki," finish your drink.
4. If the housemates all sit down for family dinner, everybody does a toast and takes a healthy chug. Except for whoever has Sammi Sweetheart - she's excluded from chicken cutlet night. She also has to refill the cup of whoever has The Situation... that ungrateful Flintstone big toe havin' bitch.
5. When they fist pump, we fist pump. Any fist pumping battle scene starts a waterfall. Everyone drinks while fist pumping and doesn't stop doing either until there's no more fist pumping happening on screen.
6. And of course, no Jersey Shore drinking game would be complete without this BASEketball-inspired rule: Do a shot every time a fight breaks out!
Follow these rules and you'll be craving ham and water in no time. By all means feel free to add your own and let me know what you come up with. Just please don't invite any sort of zoo creatures to my Jersey Shore party.
"An hour of party-fest intensity sometimes followed by guilt because you're fist pumping to the vocals of a song that you probably talked shit on at some point in the past 5 months"
Sorry, couldn't resist that title.
For my mash-up heads, take note:
Get on that WHITE PANDA shit.
Confusion (quoted above) was the first one to plant the name "The White Panda" on my brain, and he recently had them on his "Underrated '09" list. Looking back, I clearly remember perking my ears up at Passion Pit vs. T.I. in "What You Know About Little Secrets" a few months ago, and even passing it on to a few people. Unfortunately, I have already fairly well achieved my resolution to repress most of my memories of 2009 - a year which I shall henceforth in this space and in conversation replace with "The Year That Was Naught" (TYTWN) - and The White Panda got lost in the shuffle.
But that was 'Naught. This is now. The new year has the mash-up duo of Procrast and DJ Griffi offering their debut mixtape, "Versus," to keep our fists pumping. Click play below to start the party, but only do so if you're fully prepared to battle. "Versus" is a hour-long assault, and you're going to have to beat back the beat to see the other side.
We're coming down to the wire and there's no time to lose, so here's the rest of The Best Rest Of 2009.
A few months after the most glorious concert experiences of my life, a friend of mine was offering around extra tickets for the last leg of Springsteen's tour, which included a mini-residency at Giants Stadium. These concerts would be the last for Bruce in the venue that vaulted him into worldwide arena rock superstardom, as the new Giants Stadium (and I'll be calling it that regardless of whatever corporate name gets stickered all over it, so deal with it, Jets fans) is set to open in 2010. Clearly I had to be there and jumped at the chance. I was met with an interesting choice: General Admission floor seats for the second-to-last night, or 100-level seats for E Street's last ever Giants Stadium show? For some, it seems like a no-brainer. Go for the tour and stadium closer, where the band is bound to pull out all the stops and, given the historical significance of the venue, there may even be a special guest or two. However, recall my Bonnaroo epiphany and you'll see why I made the choice that I did. It simply had to be the floor. After being so close to The Boss that I could see the sweat flying off of his pumping Jersey fists, there was just no way I was opting for the seats, even if it meant gambling that the second-to-last E Street show at Giants Stadium would measure up to the finale. Observe below to see why I clearly made the right choice.
My favorite part about this is that more than once in the video you can clearly hear me muttering, "Where's The Boss man? Where is he?" only to have him emerge into view mere feet from our position. My second favorite part is the fact that we somehow managed to not notice the mini stage in the center of the floor just to our right until Bruce was standing on it. We were just in the right spot at the right time, and you're just going to have to believe me that it worked out that way. Oh, and 60-year-old Bruce crowd-surfing a solid 40 yards. I guess that's my third favorite part. It's the story of 2009 in a nutshell, really. All-time highlight memories sporadically cropping up amongst an otherwise murky sea of confusion and doubt.
This now puts us right smack in the thick of October, my favorite month of the year. If ever there was a saving grace for 2009, it was October. Not only did it include the aforementioned Bruce experience, but the YANKEES WON THE WORLD SERIES! If you know me or have read this here blog at all, you'll know how much the 2009 MLB Playoffs lifted up my Worst Year Ever. Some of you reading right now may have been there for this guy's birthday celebration, watching me jump for joy during Game 2 of the ALDS as A-Rod tied it with a HR in the bottom of the 9th and Teixeira walked it off with a wall-scraper in the 11th.
In the next round, I was able to score tickets for the Littlest Bro (who is ironically the biggest of we 3 Schiff Brothers) and I to see the Yanks take care of the Angels and capture their 40th pennant in Game 6 of the ALCS. Of course, our first attempt to see the game was rained out, but, as we saw time and time again in '09, out of the FAILstorm emerges a WIN. Because of the rainout, Littlest Bro was forced to head home, so myself and Middle Bro went to drop him off with our Aunt and Uncle who were heading back to Jersey after seeing John Stamos star in Bye Bye, Birdie on Broadway. That's right, folks, Uncle Jesse himself. Here at Schiff Happens, we have sung Stamos' praises before, but never did we expect to actually meet the proprietor of the Smash Club.* However, the stars aligned that night, leading to one of the greatest pictures ever taken of the Schiff Brothers.
Yes, I'm well aware that only half of my face is visible. I stand by my statement. Note to all of you out there who will now attempt to stake out the Stamos: Try to avoid saying "Uncle Jesse on 3!" just before you snap the picture. Ask Littlest Bro about it.
As October turned into November, the Yankees ended nine long years of frustration with World Series win number 27 and another parade down Broadway. Yes, I'm well aware that complaining of the Yankees "struggles" is ridiculous. I apologize for nothing. I also should probably mention that I was in the house to watch the Bombers take down the Philthadelph in Game 2 of the World Series alongside Middle Bro, which was especially satisfying since we got to chant "Who's your daddy?" at Pedro Martinez all night. Probably should also mention that it was free. Hey, I said the highs were all-timers.
The final positive of 2009 was Phish's fall tour. For the first time ever I decided to try and check out an entire multi-night run, procuring tickets for Wednesday and Friday nights at Madison Square Garden, and Saturday night at my alma mater, The University of Virginia's John Paul Jones Arena. Of course, Thursday - the one night of the four I went into without a ticket - was the night of note. I joined my friends at the bar near MSG for their pregame, and just as I was about to go do a lap around the arena to scour for an extra, the guy next to me at the bar leaned over and said, "You need a ticket? Here you go." He pulled out a mail order ticket, I managed to mutter something along the lines of, "Are you serious?" and he said, "Sure, why not? I was gonna eat it anyway. Buy me a beer and it's yours." So, for the price of the beer I was able to ensure that I saw "Fluffhead" for the first time live. I'd call that a victory. Of course, that was also the night I learned that Jonathan Larsen, creator of RENT, died of an aortic aneurism, and didn't even have a little bit of AIDS. I'd call that a loss. A major loss. I have never felt so bamboozled in my life, and to be honest, I'm still getting over it a little bit. The story will have to wait for another time, because I'm getting emotional just thinking about it, and because quite frankly, it's 8:30 on New Year's Eve and we've all got some drinking to do.
So before you head out to whatever loft party, watering hole, or slump buster you're hitting up tonight, take a minute to view perhaps my favorite video of 2009. I call it, "How Not To Shoot a Concert Bootleg," and when you consider that this hilarious piece of pure, unadulterated FAIL was shot just moments after the incredible joy and good fortune captured in the "Hungry Heart" video above, it's the perfect sendoff for 2009, the Worst Year Ever. May 2010 be the most epic of WIN for all of us.
Happy New Year.
*Wow, definitely didn't remember that the original Stamos post was Yankees-related. Weird. Awesome.
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.
Bruce decided to take most of last week off and let us all catch our breath after his PR blitz leading up to the Super Bowl frenzy and the Crotch Heard Round the World (gonna be a long time before that one gets old) necessitated a massive recap of all his activities. He showed up for a minute to post his Super Bowl Journal on his official page, which alone is worth revisiting for its sheer brilliance (That's your cue to go check it out if you showed up late to the party. Don't worry, we'll still be here when you're done). Luckily, in the week since, The Boss has returned to his usual headline-grabbing, so we have a little bit more material to run through this week than a single-item recap, which I suppose wouldn't be much of a recap at all but more like a repost, which seems a bit redundant. What the hell was I talking about?
Is there anybody ALIVE out there???
Oh, right. Thanks, Boss. As I was attempting to say before I went all ADD, my Google reader was alive this week with all manner of Bruceness, so it is once again time to bring you the most fist-pumping feature in the history of these here interwebs and review the week that was in Bruce news. As per last time, we'll rate each item on a scale of one to five Rockin New Jersey Fist Pumps. Five Jersey Fists if the story makes you want to powerslide into someone's face, one Jersey Fist if the story is so miserable that you'd rather listen to Bon Jovi than read about it ::Imagines actually wanting to listen to Bon Jovi. Punches self in face with solitary Jersey Fist:: (Quick side note, I'm going to need a sweet name for these Jersey Fist Bruce Springsteen recaps if the guy is gonna keep making news. "Keeping Up With The Boss?" "Fist Week Ever?" Help me out here, people).
First things first, Pitchfork Media's interview series with up-and-coming, youngish artists about how Springsteen has influenced them has expanded and is now being hosted on Bruce's official site under the title "Hangin Out on E Street" (apparently I'm not the only one who needs help thinking of titles). Jersey guys the Gaslight Anthem, Ted Leo, Bouncing Souls and Schiff Happens inspiration Wyclef Jean - as well as some other folks who, though talented, can't say they hail from the great Garden State - talk about The Boss and then play a cover of one of his tunes. The point of the thing is to show how Bruce's influence has widened beyond the scope of mainstream rock. I've never been much for indie rock, but I'm all for this. It's just one more talking point for Springsteen fans when the non-Jersey people and the too-hip-for-you-old-man indie kids continue to fail or be unwilling to understand the magnitude of Springsteen's appeal, influence and legend. Face it, indie kids - The Hold Steady made it cool to dig Bruce, and if you don't like it, here's 3 Jersey Fists right in your face. Now wash your damn hair and put a smile on your face you miserable skinny jeans wearing fuck. (Scoring Note: This would have been a 4-Fister, but apparently BruceSpringsteen.net doesn't have much of a budget for acoustics quality control).
Next on the Bruce Watch, Springsteen debuted his video for "The Wrestler" about 2 months too late to prevent the Oscars from snubbing him for Best Original Song. I still have yet to see the movie but I truly do dig this song, and not just because it's simple enough to play that even I can strum along with it on guitar, but because I can't help but get choked up by toned-down acoustic Bruce singing sad songs about one-legged dogs and melancholy characters searching for meaning in this lonely life when society has turned its back on you. I also get emotional for run-on sentences. The fact that the Oscars so obviously effed up by snubbing Bruce and only nominating three songs is made all the more hilarious by Peter Gabriel's refusal to perform his “Down To Earth” from Wall-E in protest of the ceremony's 65-second-per-song rule. Now the Oscars are left with only a pair of Slumdog Millionaire tunes and are so desperate for performers that they've beggedoffered to let new mum M.I.A. perform Slumdog's "O Saya" from "some sort of fabulous bed on stage." An outdated awards show blatantly effs up and Bruce has the last laugh? That'll get you 4 Jersey Fists every time.
Meanwhile, while we were watching "The Wrestler" video, Bonnaroo posted live Springsteen videos on its web site - "Thunder Road" from Live in New York City and "Promised Land" from Live in Barcelona. There's absolutely nothing here that can't be purchased from your local public television station for a recession-friendly donation of only $200 - hey, at least it's a tax write-off - but it validates this pipe dream that I had that Bruce Springsteen and the legendary E Street Band were headlining freakin' Bonnaroo (BOSSaroo? BonnaRUUCE?) this summer! New Jersey 'Roo domination is the ultimate hype generator around here, so for that we give this one 3 Jersey Fists (if only because the videos themselves really are nothing new) as we are compelled to ask again, "Who's comin with me?"
Finally, Point Blank alerted us to upcoming albums that feature The Boss, which wouldn't necessarily matter one way or another except that one of those albums belongs to none other than Bernie Williams! Before Bernie became a superstar musician, he patrolled centerfield for the Dynasty Yankees, and his penchant for clutch hits launched a new era of awful John Sterling home run call nicknames. Bernie's new album "Moving Forward," due out April 14, includes a live version of "Glory Days" recorded with The Boss himself at Joe Torre's Safe At Home benefit in November 2007. Bruce and Bernie, the Bombers and The Boss together? Are there any 2 more dominating, legendary figures in their respective fields than Springsteen and the Yankees? More importantly, is there any combination more apt to stir Schiff Happens into a screaming, fist-pumping lather? Bruce cedes the floor to that other Boss, as this one gets an obvious 5 Jersey Fists.
It has only been a week since we last checked in on him, but Bruce Springsteen has been so damn busy making headlines that it feels like we need to run a weekly recap on all things Boss. In true Garden State fashion, we're going to attempt to bring you up to speed on The Bruce by rating his recent newsworthy moments on a scale of one to five Rockin New Jersey Fist Pumps. Five Jersey Fists for the most bitchin possible news, one Jersey Fist if you'd rather pump your own gas than read that story. And away we go!
So, back in January, Springsteen released a greatest hits collection exclusively with Wal Mart. Just ten bucks for E Street's greatest hits? Not a bad deal, right? Well, not until you recall that Wal Mart has been accused of anti-union practices, paid major fines for violating labor laws, basically represents all that is soulless and evil in the world of corporate sleaze, and, you know, pretty much violates all of Bruce's core principles. The fans called him out on it, and Bruce issued a heartfelt mea culpa, calling the Wal Mart deal a "mistake." We can't let him off the hook entirely for the Wal Mart exclusive, but for hearing his fans and copping to his misstep, Bruce gets 2 Jersey Fists here.
Springsteen's PR blitz continued and really kicked into high gear at the Super Bowl, where he and the band gave their first press conference since 1987 (this still makes no sense to me) to joke about The Boss' complete lack of interest in football and speculate on the highly anticipated halftime show. No details were given, but Springsteen promised a "12 minute party," and on Sunday that's exactly what went down. The show was every bit the electric, rollicking performance that Springsteen fans have lauded for the last 30 years, and The Boss cemented his Super Bowl legacy when he delivered the most widely watched crotch-first into-your-living-room power slide in television history. Around the world, it was Boss Time. This is a no brainer: 5 Jersey Fists. Great 4-song set, vintage Springsteen ebullience, and a power crotch slide smack into a cameraman...come on. The look he gave to the camera right when it happened was worth 3 fist pumps by itself (Yes, I am aware that only Bruce's vocals were actually "live," but if the National Anthem can be pre-recorded, then so can Steve, Max and the Big Man. My opinion on this will not change. The 5 Jersey Fists stand).
Everyone loves the halftime show, except for Stephen Metcalf, Slate's resident high-minded shit-eater who trashed the performance because the set list failed to include "The Wrestler." Really? Granted, the song is wonderful and just won a Golden Globe, but really? Stephen Metcalf, you sir have earned yourelf one single solitary Jersey Fist - right in your fucking eye. That's how we handle things in the Meadowlands.
Not long after the Super Bowl performance (the very next morning in fact), tickets for Springsteen's "Working On A Dream" world tour went on sale on Ticketmaster. Legions of fans tried to log on and buy tickets at 9:00AM, but many encountered erroneous error messages and, worse still, were automatically redirected to Ticketmaster's reselling secondary site, TicketsNow, which offered tickets at far above face value. Once again, corporate America was putting the screws to The Bruce. Bad idea, Ticketmaster. You do not fuck with E Street Nation. Having learned quickly from the Wal Mart flare-up, Bruce, manager Jon Landau and the Springsteen Tour Team posted a strongly worded apologetic letter to fans on Springsteen's official site, condemning Ticketmaster and publicly railing against a possible merger between Ticketmaster and LiveNation, who just one week prior had infuriated Phish fans with a similar fiasco (and actually managed to make hippies everywhere nostalgic for their longtime nemesis, Ticketmaster, which has in fact always sucked). The New Jersey Attorney General announced an investigation into the incident, and Ticketmaster has since apologized to Springsteen and vowed to make amends to befuddled fans (riiiight....). You have to applaud The Boss' reaction to the situation, and at least Ticketmaster is admitting that they effed up, but none of that changes the fact that I didn't get tickets for shit. 2 Jersey Fists.
Late Monday night into Tuesday morning, long-standing rumors were finally confirmed when Bonnaroo announced its lineup, which will be headlined by 2 nights of Phish and one night of Springsteen and the E Street Band. I stated my opinions (and got Cartman's thoughts) on this matter months ago when the rumors came out, and I have since made it abundantly clear that I plan to be haulin ass to Tennessee come June. The lineup could not possibly be better, but it's worth raising an eyebrow over the fact that fans of Bruce and Phish just experienced epic ticket on-sale disasters, and as the two companies who perpetrated said disasters now talk of merging, the two bands will meet as headliners of the biggest festival of the summer. I'm no less excited, but there is reason for pause when the first wave of 'Roo tickets go on sale Saturday at noon, and though we can be glad that Bonnaroo at least takes care of ticket sales through its own site, this tiny seed of doubt knocks this news down a peg to 4 Jersey Fists.
Finally, Wednesday we learned that "Working On A Dream" became 2009's biggest debut, selling nearly 224,000 copies in its first week for a No. 1 ranking on the Billboard top 200. Most of those sales actually came before the Super Bowl performance. The album was given a 5-star review in Rolling Stone, and following all the crotch-sliding, Bonnaroo hype, and Ticketmaster hoopla (any publicity is good publicity!) should only go on to sell even more. More importantly, Springsteen finally knocked Taylor Swift (ok, I'm sorry, but... who?) out of the top spot after an eight-week reign. Long live The Boss! 4 Jersey Fists.
So now that you're all caught up, don't forget to buy your Bonnaroo tickets on Saturday. Until next week, when I'll inevitably have to recap yet another blitz of Springsteen news, enjoy Conan O'Brien's best attempt to recreate Bruce's Super Crotch Slide. This should keep you well entertained all weekend.
Well, it happened. As we kind of knew, Little Eric was right, and the initial lineup announcement for Bonnaroo ’09 means the end of mankind and my face as we know it. Mind, you’re about to be blown. It’s been great knowing you. As if confirmation of the PHISHSTEEN rumors wasn’t enough, I get to see Beastie Boys again – and I thought I was lucky to have seen them once. That’s the holy trinity of Schiff Happens: The Hippie, The Tribesman and The Boss. Plus, there really is no party like a Snoop Dogg party. Warm up the RV, I’ll bring my green hat.
So much good music I already know and love, and so much that I have heard about and wanted to get into that I will now be able to see live in concert. As glad as I am that I get to spend a bunch more money I don’t have, a twin headliner of the best two bands I’ve ever seen, period, is worth the price of admission. And by the way, with complete and total Jersey domination descending on the year’s annual keynote summer festival, this WSJ article (which I have been trying for a minute to find the right context for) is really worth noting.
