The thing of it is…

I believe it was TV that once said, “It is in dark times like this, when it seems like our celebrities will not stop dying (or whatever), that it is most important to seek joy in the simpler things, like cool tricks.”

Some will argue that cool tricks are alright for awhile, but ultimately we need more. ‘We need something to believe in’ is what these people will say. I happen to agree with them, and I feel secure in knowing that I made the right choice a long time ago.

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Tell me about the bunker, George.

Though I’m as guilty as anyone for using it, ‘bunker’ does not even begin to do the place justice. I could go on and on, but it’s a secret.

Obligatory Michael Jackson conspiracy theory

Michael Jackson is dead. Or is he? You can believe the mainstream media if you want, or you can believe that he faked his own death in order to escape a) bill collectors, b) the pressure from his planned “reemergence,”  c) the supreme daily pain-in-the-assness of being a ultramegasuperduberstar, and/or d) any or all of the above, plus e) any other rationales, realistic or feverish, that might be attributed to a man of Michael Jackson’s demeanour, for wanting to pretend to be dead when he is not, in fact, dead. 

Anyway. Something nobody can quite fathom at any point before they become a Ridiculously Huge Star is that Ridiculously Huge Stars can’t just up and retire like you and I can retire. Considerably more drastic measures are required. Surely you’ve heard of the secret, seven-story deep bunker that Elvis Presley had built underneath Graceland, prior to faking his own death? MJ lives there now with Elvis and certain other ‘dead’ celebrities.* You don’t have to be sad for him anymore.

It’s just, the thing of it is…

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Michael Jackson vs Farrah Fawcett (vs Ed McMahon)

Yeah yeah, I know he sold a lot of records and invented the moonwalk and was just so…Michael Jackson. I won’t dispute much of what you would say about his influence on music, on popular culture, on celebrity freakshowdom. I couldn’t possibly.

But, speaking as a man who was once a puberty-stricken boy, I LOVED Farrah Fawcett

And oh yeah, Ed McMahon.

Old Ugly is the new pretty

Listen here. I’m walking around my work neighbourhood at lunchtime, and I see a poster pasted to an electrical box. It’s for the city’s newest label or something. What should I care about a new label? I’m so adult, new labels aren’t any of my damn business. I decide I don’t even care how adult I am, I’m curious about this label with a horse for a logo, and I’m going to look ’em up. So I do.

Ready, Set, All hail the Old Ugly Recording Co. It’s hip hop, friend, and mighty high quality, too. There’s not a lot of stuff on the website there, but there’s enough to get you started, like free downloads for instance. I will pay The Joe the best compliment I can: I will find out where he lives and then ride my bike past his house and possibly see him shoveling snow or mowing his lawn or something, after which I will tell the world. That’ll be good publicity for him.

That’s Edmonton For YOU and YOU and YOU

Remember last week, when we were planning on having Trevor Anderson by the radio show for a little That’s Edmonton for You listening party? Remember? Yeah, good times.

Remember how I ‘couldn’t say’ how I felt about the music at the time? Yeah, total dodge. I believe the City of Edmonton should immediately adopt all 7 tracks as situation-specific city anthems: Amy van Keeken’s for hockey games, Colleen Brown’s for when we give Heart the key to the city, everyone could stand and sing Nik Kozub’s before gigs get underway, and Cadence Weapon’s before settling in for a night/day/afternoon/week/month/year spent on the couch in front of the TV/computer/videogame system. Ted Wright’s song should be this summer’s go-to song for driving around, playing your stereo too loud.

Click here to sign an online petition to make it all happen.

What if, in order to save your child’s life, you had to properly mic this instrument?

Feeling lucky, punk?

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