I just don't I mean what?

I Write Like says I write like David Foster Wallace. Which sucks, since I'm currently reading DFW's "Girl With Curious Hair" and am not digging it entirely. And so I was doing a search on "David Foster Wallace wordy" to see if anyone else thinks DFW often overdid it, as I do, and ended up on I Write Like.

But things will change. I will use fewer words. Shorter sentences. Ideas will stand up straight, and not sprawl on the rug like drunkards, babbling. Rock-jawed, but not marble-mouthed. Phrases sheared, high and tight, march down the page, delivering meaning at knife-point. Boo. Yah.

(I Write Like says the preceding paragraph sounds like... DFW. I was going for something more like Cormac McCarthy or Faulkner or something. Perhaps I should ignore that site.)

Here is Rolling Stone's 1979 review of the Talking Heads' Fear Of Music.

I'm going to spoil the read by quoting the kicker:

For me, Fear of Music's least interesting track is the rock-disco-like "Life during Wartime," which sounds almost live. The problem isn't the production but the song itself. While "Life during Wartime" is both structurally and harmonically conventional, boasts a silly chorus lyric and even adds a conga player to the group, the tune's real trouble is that it lacks Talking Heads' usual counterpoint. On the other hand, some of the words are arresting: "I got three passports, a couple of visas/You don't even know my real name."

Here's a bit from their review of Zeppelin's In Through The Out Door:

As you might suspect, In through the Out Door's best number is the one in which you can understand the least words. This is "In the Evening," a classic Zeppelin orchestral guitar rumble halfway between "When the Levee Breaks" and "In the Light." The only line I was able to understand was "Oh oh I need zoo love." Judging by Plant's convincing orgasmic moans on the rest of it, I would rather guess at the remaining lyrics.

Zoo love. Hah.

How did they like The Police's debut?

As entertainment, Outlandos d'Amour isn't monotonous—it's far too jumpy and brittle for that—but its mechanically minded emptiness masquerading as feeling makes you feel cheated, and more than a little empty yourself. You're worn out by all the supercilious, calculated pretense. The Police leave your nervous system all hyped up with no place to go.

Ouch.

Tons of fun, reading the old reviews.

And, for some reason, the writers were frequently concerned about what the album at hand meant given the that it was almost... 1980!!.

About The Stones' Some Girls:

...well, if you want to survive the Seventies and enter the Eighties with something more than your bankbook and dignity intact, you'd better dredge up your leftover pride, bite the bullet and try like hell to sweat out some good music

About Fleetwood Mac's Tusk:

Plagued by internal conflicts and challenged by New Wave rock, this psychedelically tinted folk-rock tribe might well be the last and most refined of a breed of giddy celebrants who, from the early Sixties on, prospered on the far shore of the promised land as they toasted the pure splendor of a beautiful and possibly frivolous pop dream.

Can this dream survive the economic chill of the Eighties?

Oooohhh... The eighties!

In the past week or so, most Google searches from my phone bring up a box asking me if I will allow Google to access my location data.

Why does Google need to know where I am if I'm searching on "P=NP" ?

Is this happening to any of you?

Every Wednesday, the M&M fairy comes by and fills the big canisters in the break room with M&Ms. By the end of the day, they're empty. People grab them by the coffee cup-full and hoard them at their desks, because that's the only way to ensure that you'll have some M&M for the rest of the week. And if you're me, you have to fight to make your personal supply, which sits in front of you all day, last past the end of the day.

Eat Me!

This is a new situation. Up until a couple of months ago, the M&M canisters were refilled daily. And so, nobody hoarded them. And I never ate more than one or two a day, because there was never a pile at my desk, they were just something in the break room that I might, or might not, grab if I was in the mood.

By restricting the supply, the M&M fairy has turned me into an M&M binge-eater.

This 15 year old girl is one of the 20 people who, statically speaking, will be murdered by firearms today in the US.

CHICAGO - A 15-year-old majorette who performed at some of President Barack Obama's recent inauguration festivities has been shot to death in Chicago.

Police say Hadiya Pendleton was shot in the back Tuesday in a South Side park and died at a city hospital.

Authorities say Hadiya was one of about 12 teenagers sheltering from heavy rain under a canopy when a man jumped a fence, ran toward the group and opened fire. The man fled the scene in a vehicle. No arrests have been made.

Residents and tourists of Queensland's Gold and Sunshine coasts found themselves navigating through miles of thick sea foam over the weekend.

Tropical cyclone Oswald pummeled the coast last week, churning up the ocean, which in turn spewed forth the fluffy foam. The strange brew spread across the coastline and into town ? causing issues for drivers, pedestrians and local businesses.

Witnesses report the foam measured up to 10-feet thick in some areas.

Ewoks and the Endor Holocaust

Thanks, Obama!

WTF, Evolution?