Constantine? Really?

While I always thought he was too smug, fake and insincere, he was one of the better overall performers of the bunch - certainly miles ahead of Scott, Anthony and that wooden Barbie doll. And I always assumed he'd make it into the top three at least. But to lose to a guy who hasn't hit a right note in weeks (talkin bout you, Scott)... awful.

There's a fantastic track-by-track review of a Mars Volta record, over at Something Awful

Here are some of my favorite bits:

At five minutes and ten seconds, the guitarist sounds like he's repeatedly trying to play a guitar lick but screwing it up every time. If The Mars Volta intend to paint vivid pictures with their music, it's working: if I close my eyes, I can see a teenager on a stool in Guitar Center trying to impress us with his avant-garde (i.e. out of key) riffs. Oh sweet, speaking of that: at five minutes and thirty seconds, we're treated to some wicked fuckin' tremolo dive-bombs! Rock that Squire Budget Strat, junior! Oh god, there's like eight minutes to go before I'm even done with the first track. What the heck have I gotten myself into?

...and...

Uh oh, thirty seconds in, it sounds like the singer is getting a little agitated! He screamed a little bit and I think I know why: a chorus seems to have escaped his lips. The thing he feared most in this world, a conventional element of rock and roll, has unintentionally passed through him. Or maybe he's just nonplussed because he seems to be channeling Geddy Lee. Fifty seconds in, he tells us that he'll “never sleep alone.” Of course not. He'll always have his insanely overblown musical ego by his side.

...and...

Okay, this song is even more boring than the song with the forest noises. It has a rudimentary tune, but it just sort of plods along with no direction like a senile outpatient with no family to pick him up and take him to the zoo, so he just sort of wanders around in his little hospital robe talking to whoever he happens to mistake for his dead son. Oh shit, I just made myself a little bit sad. Thanks a lot, Mars Volta, you dicks.

Yes, yes, yes. A thousand times, "yes".

Waste an hour designing your own South Park characters at the Planearium!

Was reading Panda's Thumb yesterday. The article was about so-called "soft tissue" found attached to T-Rex bones. Creationists are crowing that this soft tissue proves a 6,000 year old earth, since there's no way soft tissue could last that long. A reasonable first try at a debunking, no doubt.

But to make that challenge, creationists have to ignore the fact that the bones were found in rocks that were dated by literally dozens of different chemical, radiometric and geological techniques, and found to be 70-million years old.

For me, the killer sentence of the PT write-up:

If these people are able to ignore geology, chemistry and physics, why do they even bother to lie about biology?

Ever wanted to know the ratio of "fucks" to "cocksuckers" in an episode of HBO's Deadwood ? How about the number of "fucks" per ten-minute segment of each episode ?

No ? Then don't visit this site.

I finally got around to buying Derek & The Dominos' "Layla and Other Assorted Love Songs". This means two things:

1. I've had "Bell Bottom Blues" stuck in my head for the past week
2. I actually paid for a copy of a song that, thanks to classic rock radio, I never need to hear again, ever - the titular "Layla".

Greg* Duane Allman was a truly great guitar player, though.

--

* - i swear i'll never keep it straight. i even looked it up this time. was still wrong.

Now this is a company dedicated to customer service.

And, of course, the ever-popular white dogwood.