So many features, i needed a third page!

Feature #31:

My friend Lilli's dad wanted to sell their car, and i suggested putting it up on ebay. They decided that was a good idea, but the only picture they have of the car is one that Lilli took for her x-boyfriend, which pictures her laying on top of the car in a bikini. Everyone thought it would be funny to put it up, because it might gain some attention that would lead to selling the car, and so on... then THIS happens:

JStev33019: hi there. so u r intested in the car eh?

Dragger40: what year is it?

JStev33019: 96

Dragger40: my wife was looking at it

Dragger40: I have a 94

JStev33019: only like 22000 miles

Dragger40: 2th anniversary

JStev33019: it is in great condition

JStev33019: i get so many compliments on it.

Dragger40: 25th anniversary

Dragger40: its silver right

JStev33019: ahh. well it would make a lovely gift.

JStev33019: silver of course!! looks the nicest

JStev33019: u got the pictures right?

Dragger40: you haven't seen the 25th.. white with blue stripes

JStev33019: so do u think u r gonna bid on it?

Dragger40: yeah the pics are nice

Dragger40: I passed it on to another friend of mine also

Dragger40: he was going to bid I think

Dragger40: I have to sell my 85 first

Dragger40: my wife ask if i was interested in the car or the girl

Dragger40: jokingly

Dragger40: both looked nice

Dragger40: is it a LT1.. 6 speed

JStev33019: i hate to get rid of it, but we have too many cars- my daughter- the one the hood-just got a new 99 beetle for her bday. so i haev to get rid of this one

JStev33019: 5 speed

Dragger40: boy she is lucky

Dragger40: but its a 5.7 right

Dragger40: when does the bidding end?

JStev33019: (alright i am gonna be honest, i am the daughter, my dad is at work... i am just ehlping him sell it- i am not sure abotu everything)

Dragger40: u are?

Dragger40: HI

JStev33019: hi.

Dragger40: so whats ur name?

JStev33019: ends june 11

JStev33019: lilli

Dragger40: HI lili

Dragger40: IM jim

JStev33019: hi jim

Dragger40: :)

Dragger40: can I as your age?

JStev33019: 19, and thanks for the compliments. haha

Dragger40: if i dont' respond... my keyboard locked up and i will have to reboot

Dragger40: I was hoping of more pics with you .. and the car

JStev33019: so do u think u or u're friend will eb betting on this lovely vehicle?

Dragger40: you look GREAT!

Dragger40: if u come with it.. I WILL!!

Dragger40: sorry

Dragger40: u just got my attention

JStev33019: so...

Dragger40: when i looked at the car

JStev33019: well if u buy the car, maybe we'll throw in a few pix of me. haha

JStev33019: so, u gonna bet or not?

Dragger40: maybe the pics will convince me to bid on it

Dragger40: I have to wait and see if I sell my 85 first

JStev33019: our reserve is 12000

Dragger40: and that would be a good deal!

JStev33019: wel bidding ends on the 11

Dragger40: I know

JStev33019: its definitely worth it.

Dragger40: yes

Dragger40: didn't u want it

Dragger40: instead of the bug?

Dragger40: how tall are you?

Dragger40: Guess what?

JStev33019: i would have taken the car but i go to univ of florida and its a 5 hr drive...and this car could not have lugged all my stuff

JStev33019: 5"$

JStev33019: 5'4

JStev33019: what

Dragger40: I was hoping I would hear from you

Dragger40: you look taller

Dragger40: Is there any chance of you sending me some pics of you

JStev33019: if u bid the reserve on the car. i'll send u more

Dragger40: Have you ever heard of MAFBA

JStev33019: no...

Dragger40: its a f body club

Dragger40: i belong to it

JStev33019: ok...

Dragger40: we go on cruizes

JStev33019: k...

JStev33019: so u gonna bid the reserve?

Dragger40: Well Lilli... i can't bid if I don't sell one

Dragger40: boy your convincing

JStev33019: well no bid, no pix

Dragger40: :(

JStev33019: is u're friend gonna bid?

JStev33019: well do u think u'll sell the 85 in time?

Dragger40: I'd hate to pay 12K for a pic

Dragger40: they have a loan request in

Dragger40: should know something this week

Dragger40: I will call him tonite and tell him the min reserve

JStev33019: good. they'll pay the 12?

Dragger40: if I don't get to bid...

Dragger40: i did enjoy the pic that I saw of you

JStev33019: so u mgith be in the runnin eh?

Dragger40: ur very pretty

JStev33019: thanks

Dragger40: and a great figure!!

Dragger40: took my breath

JStev33019: well i do apologize, but i do have to go workout now

Dragger40: :)

Dragger40: can I ask a ?

JStev33019: quickly

Dragger40: what are ur measurements?

JStev33019: make a bid, and i'll tell u :)

Dragger40: gosh

JStev33019: but i really have to go.

Dragger40: u dont' give up

Dragger40: stay in touch???

JStev33019: surely.

JStev33019: hope u get the car for u;'re WIFE

Dragger40: have a good sweat Lilli

JStev33019: toodles and good luck

Dragger40: bye baby

Feature #32:

Some interesting bits of news for you...

Regulations make schools safe

In light of the recent school slaughtering in Colorado, school officials nationwide are taking a stance to protect their students. Fearing copy-cat killers, numerous studies have been done to pinpoint what dangerous articles of clothing are, and how to stop children from wearing them.

"Recognizing warning signs in the way kids dress is obviously the first step in controlling what could possibly be a terribly threatening situation in schools nationwide," claims Atlanta schoolboard chairman, Alan Feldmen.

Taking a survey of news-informed housewives, all schools in Atlanta and, to be implemented in the coming weeks, all of Georgia, have decided that no school-attending minor under the age of 20 will be able to wear any kind of pants. Explains Feldmen, "The board noted, after the interviews, that pants have pockets which could easily conceal a handgun or grenade."

Under new law, fourteen thousand students in South Dakota were arrested on Monday for not walking with their hands above their heads. "We realized how easy it would be for a student to be carrying a firearm behind their back, and decided the best way to go about it would be the have the students' arms in the air at all times. This way, we could see exactly what they were carrying," says South Dakota's schoolboard secretary, Evan Sanders.

"My arms were just tired. After the tingly sensation went away, my right arm was completely numb. I just needed a rest," pleads Rallipar High School senior Jamie Liss.

Copy-cats nationwide are already popping up, and are all being taken into custody under newly-strict security measures.

In Long Island's Oceanside High School, a student was briskly taken away by cops after stepping on a peer's foot. "This aggressive behavior can't be tolerated in school's anymore," explains police chief Carl Barthol.

"It was just an accident! What the hell?" is the plea of convicted student, who has been asked by the police department of Oceanside to remain nameless.

"This needs to stop. The chaos in America's schools need to stop, and it starts with responsible committees. The students have been lead astray for too long. We're going to be forming committees for everything now, and soon something like what happened in Colorado will be a horrible thing of the past," claims Alan Feldmen at a press conference Sunday evening. "We need to save our country's students from themselves. We have to control the country's future, or it'll go to [expletive]. That's all."

Lucky not so lucky

Losing the war for tobacco, the Marlboro Man steps down to join Joe Camel in the ranks of unemployed marketing characters. Both have been targeted for appealing to children and, consequently, encouraging smoking at an early ago. Now, in the wake of these tremendous wins for anti-smoking advocates, another old face may be ousted from the world of marketing: Lucky, the small Irish character from Lucky Charms.

"Kids can't think for themselves!" exclaims Judge Rudolph Baker, as he lit a cigarette. "They see a cartoon character, and immediately associate it with goodness and fun. When a little child sees a cartoon camel with a smile on their face and a cigarette, the first thing they want to do is chain smoke. I'm sure some research project proved that."

With just that mentality, the Food and Drug Administration has taken Lucky Charms to court, claiming that children are unknowingly drawn to eat the cereal without the foresight to first read the nutrition information. Although both the Trix Rabbit and the bee from Honey Nut Cheerios have been under investigation as well, Lucky has fallen as an easy target.

Cries FDA representative Edward Polari, "There's gelatin in Lucky Charms marshmallows, which kids may not know about. Lucky runs around with children in every commercial, yet never does he inform these children of the gelatinous content of Lucky Charms."

As an added suit against the cereal, these children that Lucky is seen with are never seen with their parents. Claiming to promote not only uninformed eating but a lack of family values as well, the suit against Lucky Charms is quickly growing.

"Kids can't think for themselves!" exclaims Judge Rudolph Baker, as he lit another cigarette. "They see a cartoon character, and immediately associate it with goodness and fun. When a little child sees a cartoon Irish man running around with children, the first thing they want to do is chain smoke. I'm sure some research project proved that."

Lucky Charms is fighting back, claiming that since there is no marshmallow in the shape of an Irish man, Lucky does not directly represent the cereal. If the FDA wins, the cereal company will be required to drop Lucky as their mascot and, amongst millions of dollars worth of fines, replace Lucky with an FDA-approved character. Although not confirmed, sources say that the FDA's character will be "Hoofy," a severed horse hoof with its cartilage oozing out.

Games linked to youth mentality

When Jim Traiton's son began violently jumping on the family pets, killing two cats and injuring a snapper turtle named Hesky, he immediately phoned police. Responding to the call, thirteen officers showed up at the Traiton's residence in Southern California to investigate. What they found is just another case in the long line of what may turn into a large suit against video gaming systems.

"I didn't know what it was. I thought maybe he was possessed by Satan," explains the concerned father.

Officers immediately searched the house and uncovered a cartridge labeled "Super Mario 3," a popular children's video game featuring Italian men who jump on and squash their opponents-animals. The conclusion was immediately reached that Jim's son, who has asked to remain anonymous, was brainwashed into copying the actions he saw on the video game in front of him.

Upon hearing the news, Traiton responded, "Come to think of it, I thought I heard something about lasagna as my son was jumping on Frisky [the cat]. Those damn Italians!"

After the Colorado high school shootings have been linked to the students playing violent video games where people killed each other with guns, the pattern all around America has become startlingly clear.

In Wisconsin, a ten-year-old boy was taken into custody after violently bashing his body into his parents and nearby walls. Explains his mother, "For years, we had assumed he was blind. But now we know it was because he was playing Tetris."

Tetris, a popular Russian video game where players move variously shaped blocks together to form a puzzle, has been named as the culprit in many physical injuries nationwide. Added the Wisconsin mother, "Those damn Russians!"

In North Dakota, seven teenagers were arrested for shooting a flock of ducks. The old Nintendo game Duck Hunt was blamed for the slaughtering.

"America's youth is obviously being corrupted by these video games. It's very clear to see. Look at the way the older generations turned out by not having video games. We're much more suited for rational thought," says Los Angeles police sergeant Bobby Jerome.

If you or someone you know has children playing any kind of video game, it is advised to remove the video game immediately from the premises. Adds Jerome, "We're just lucky that no kids have discovered Zelda yet. The last thing we need in this country is magical swords that shoot things."

Feature #33:

This isn't so much anything terribly humorous as it is just a slightly frightening tip to the disgusting consumerism that has absolutly consumed (pun intended) American culture. I'd be amazingly interested in what anyone who DOESN'T live in America has to say about this (c'mon.. i know there's a large Australian population reading this page! do drop me a line if you have anything to say about any of this, please!).

"Consumption is a treatable disease"  --Tibor Kalman

A little background: I was a "peer advisor" at the beginning of this school year, which, for those not so versed in the slightly childish vernacular of my school, this means "orientation staff." It was my job, for which i thoroughly enjoed, to take in a group of freshman (randomly assigned to me) and direct them in the matters of Clark University (where i go to school), advise them on how to formulate a schedule and tactifully avoid their ass-hole of a faculty advisor (i'll just leave it at that), and anything else i can do to make their orientation to the overwhelming world of college a smooth and comfortable transition.

A few days before my "regular" students were to arrive, the international students arrived. I, to my amazing surprise, considering nobody had informed me, had a student from Japan. Now, we were instructed that a good portion of international students very well might not have anything in the ways of bed supplies, and would need to go out and buy them. So, when this girl shows up roungly straight from Japan (she spent the summer in Michigan learning english) with one suitcase, one of my first questions was... "So, do you need any pillows or blankets?"

Yes. She did. Of course she did, you idiot (self monologue, here).. she's got one suitcase. You can't even FIT a pillow and sheets in a suitcase.

So, we hopped on the bus and to Bed Bath & Beyond, at which we directed ourselves towards the pillow department. On our way through the store, i tried to point out things she might need: a little box for toiletries, a mirror, a fan, a water filter. For each item, she'd quizically admire it for a moment, her facial expression would be one of "what would i possibly do with this?" and... we'd continue on our trek towards the pillows.

With each rejection, it became more apparent to me that.. hell.. did any of US (this being the third-person and the country) need this crap? Really, no. What it boils down to is that, as Americans, we were brought up to appreciate and attach a use and dire purpose to every stupid little thing that's cranked out of our dirty factories. We as a culture thrive on tiny items that promise to make our lives easier and more comfortable. We're comfort whores. If a company puts something out, regardless of its actual purpose, someone will suddenly "need" it.

I mean, really... who needed the clapper before it came out? Who still does?

In Japan, it seems, people just don't think like this. Little purple jar shaped like a fish? In America, we'd probably put little hair clips in it. In Japan, people would stare at it and question its function. By god, they're so much smarter than we are. I don't say that in jest at ALL. Though, do note: I use the word "we." I'm not above any of this, although i wish i were.

Finally, we make it to the pillows. Nice, fluffy, comfortable pillows.. and there are TONS of them. All the same pillow, essentially. Therefore, when she looked at the first pillow and explaimed, "too big," i questioned what she meant. Did she want a throw-pillow? How do they make pillows smaller? Every pillow in the whole place looked identical. So many choices of the exact same thing and, as she examined every one of them, they were all "too big."

Eventually, i realized what she meant: They were too fluffy. And, really.. aren't they? When you lie your head down on a fluffy pillow, what happens? You sink down to the point where it isn't fluffy anymore anyway.. at least, not around your head. So, if you were to take a fluffy pillow, remove all the marketing and AmeriComfort (i just coined that.. like it?) from it, what would you essentially have left?

A functional, flat pillow. This is what she wanted.

Not knowing where to even obtain one, i called over a saleslady who, after questioning why anyone would want a flat pillow, stumbled away confused. She returned with a bag of two flat pillows because, hey, in America, why get one flat pillow when you can get TWO? Sure, it's flat, and if you buy something for the purpose of not being too bulky, why not just get two of them? In America, it makes sense. However, after approving of this flat pillow, my Japanese friend wasn't too happy about having to buy two of them.

However, both together was only seven dollars, and she therefore didn't put up much of a struggle in purchasing them. I've yet to be back at her room to see just what, if anything, happened to that second flat pillow.

The buying of the sheets went much along the same lines, and the same thing with the blankets. I'll spare you the details, as this one event pretty much sums up, by comparison, just how amazingly consumer-driven we are in America. It's rather sick, if you think about it.

All this coming from the guy who just bought a Silent Bob action figure for 22 dollars. A piece of plastic that, although i truly admire the man whose likeness appears in the mold, just stands on my desk, poised for nothing. I've been eaten along with everyone else in this. If that quote up on top from Tibor Kalman is true, i'd sure love to know the cure.

Feature #34:

I know there's a good overlap of people who read my page and who like Ben Folds Five, so i thought it would be appropriate to post this. A wonderful music publication i write for, Ink Nineteen, graciously set me (a rather large fan of the band) up with an interview with Robert Sledge, the bassist for Ben Folds Five.

It was a bit of a hassle getting the thing worked out, as there was an awful miscommunication that left me on the phone for an hour while Robert tried to call me from Chicago -- getting a busy signal the whole time. But alas, it was finally worked out, and the interview ran in the August issue of Ink Nineteen.

Here, for your reading enjoyment, is that interview.

Sad Clowns and Disgruntled Journalists: an interview with Robert Sledge

By Jason Feifer

I got started on Ben Folds Five by what truly is the definition of motivated salesmanship. Taken back a few years ago, I'm currently sitting on a strangely brown-tinted couch next to a friend of mine, surrounded by more posters, action figures, Dr. Pepper cans, and multi-colored puddles of magazines, CDs, and errant laundry than I could possibly hope to collect myself. We're in my friend Brian's house, and he's just put Ben Folds Five's self-titled debut into his boom box, set it to "random," pointed at my friend, and said "This one goes out to you!" Track eight, "Uncle Walter," comes out of the speakers, and Brian takes off. He bounces off the walls, sings into an imaginary microphone doubling as an old Pee-Wee Herman doll, does some quasi-acrobatics, spins around, and finishes it all of by strolling over to his grandfather's old piano, opening it up, and crashing his hand down upon the keys. He did this... for nearly every song on the album.

When I left his house, I had associated Ben Folds Five with pure fun and energy. And as four years and three albums have passed, that first impression has never left me.

Ben Folds Five are, if you haven't heard by now, three guys without a guitar in sight. Playing a medley of piano-based upbeat pop and heartfelt mini-ballads, the small but loyal family of fans has grown into a blazing love affair that sweeps up just about anyone who has ever heard these guys. As the saying goes, they'll make you laugh, and they'll make you cry. The irony and personality of their lyrics, their charisma on stage, and pure musical talent has built this trio an army of worldwide adoration. And after lugging around a baby grand piano show after show for years, damn, do they deserve it.

This is one of those bands that you could practically watch evolve, starting as a goofy pop band with the occasional touchdown into reality, and culminating thus far with their new and stunningly beautiful album, The Unauthorized Biography of Reinhold Messner . Listening to the group travel their path has been a pleasure I couldn't have enjoyed more, as each step of the way just proved again and again how absolutely brilliant they are. They've made me laugh. They've made me cry. Really.

Adding a little funk and a little fuzz to the band is their bassist, Robert Sledge, who can play the keyboard and the bass at the same time, harmonize lyrics, occasionally switches off to double-bass, and will flash you the rock-n-roll symbol if you flash it to him first. He plays with a pick, he plays with his fingers, and he plays with a bow. He's also a super-nice guy.

First and foremost: the band just did a Levi's ad shoot... did they let you keep the pants?

Robert Sledge : Those were my pants.

So you're a Levi's wearer?

Well, I mean, everyone owns a pair, I think. That should be a slogan. "Everyone owns a pair."

Everyone has basically labeled Reinhold Messner as the "different" album. How different do you think it really is?

It's pretty different. I think it's pretty broad. I think it's a real record, instead of making a pop record. I think it's a real attempt at making an honest record. I guess it's more of an English kind of record instead of an American record, in a way.

How so?

Well, in that... it's kind of an attempt at painting a large picture of where the band is instead of encapsulating that within 12 songs that are very pop-friendly and any of them could be singles. You know what I mean? A couple of them are failed attempts at singles, and they end up being filler. And this record was like, well, it's not gonna to be a failed attempt at a single, it's just not going to be a single. It's going to be a different type of song.

How do you think the reception has been to it?

Umm... people really like it. People are not like... let me see how to state this right. People are really enjoying the record, and they're not like, they're not bouncing up and down and saying, "This is the greatest moment of my life!" But instead, they're just sort of slowly walking through it and sticking with it and enjoying it, instead of it being sort of a piece of pop art that loses its appeal. And it feels like it's got a subtle belonging.

So you'd consider this your best album?

Well, I think it's the strongest album. I don't necessarily think it's the best collection of songs. Don't misquote me on that. I think the songs on this record are as good as the songs on the other records. But it wasn't... we didn't make a point at making 12 pop songs. So I think it's the better record. It's got better flow; it's better recorded. We kinda let you relax in the middle of it. Stuff like that.

Has the real Reinhold Messner heard the album?

Uh... I don't know if he's heard it! I think he has. I just know that he and my manager had a heated conversation and Reinhold finally agreed that we weren't trying to exploit his name in a bad way, and it's just chance that his name ended up on the record.

I've heard you're playing with a band called Morris...

It's a friend of mine's band. His name's Angus Antley. This guy, Angus, and Eric, have a really good pop band called Morris. And every now and then they're short a bass player. So whenever I come back down and they're short a bass player, I play a show with them. And they have really, really good songs. Angus writes really funny songs, and he's a great personality. He's like a cross between... god... what's his name? The guy from Modern Lovers? But anyway... it's a cross between David Byrne and... I was going to force the name out, but I can't remember it. [It's Jonathan Richman, for those wondering]

"Breakup at Foodcourt" was a song originally said to be on the new album. What happened to it?

I guess it wasn't ugly enough.

So it'll be on the next album? Moreover, to answer break-up rumors, will there BE a next album?

Yeah. There'll be a next record.

My friend said your shoes were nuts...

My shoes are nuts? First off, I have about thirty-five pairs of shoes.

In the liner notes of Naked Baby Photos , Ben makes reference to your metal background. What is your metal background?

I used to play in a band called Lex Luther. We played songs like "Wake Up Dead" and "You're a Slut" and "Slave to my Dick."

Wow. A true metal band! Is that your forte?

No... I'd say my forte would be, shamefully, like, fusion. Electric fusion.

Weather Report kind of stuff?

Yeah. But it made playing metal really easy. More like Dixie Dregs, actually.

Some people have said that there's a definite Steely Dan influence in "Jane." Does anybody in the band really care about Steely Dan?

Yeah! I think all of us really care. I mean, Can't Buy a Thrill and Pretzel Logic are probably in me and Ben's top ten. When we first started touring, I remember we were talking to the guys in Cake, and one of the guys said something like "Yeah, we heard you guys are like the new Steely Dan or something" and they were all impressed by it. And we were like, we're not trying to be Steely Dan. Cuz, I mean, I love Steely Dan, god bless them, but there's no Nirvana in Steely Dan. I mean, they didn't know who the Butthole Surfers were, and we kinda do. Ya know? There's no the Who in Steely Dan either.

I know you were approached to do a Disney's bad guys soundtrack. Anything happening with that?

Uhh... I dunno! No comment. I don't think... I dunno. I'm not sure what happened with that. It got thrown in our lap a while back and they were like "you should do it!" I mean, we just haven't gotten around to it yet.

You have a bit of an odd fan base, including names such as "Weird Al" Yankovic and Bob Saget. Have they approached you?

Yeah! They have approached us. Al comes out to shows in LA and he hangs around. He's pretty cool. He looks like my old friend Michael Evans... he's a pretty cool guy. Him and Ben hit it off pretty well. We met Bob in LA as well, right after we did Garry Shandling. It was kind of like... who's who comedians at our show. Really, I think, Ben's lyrics attract the sad clowns. I don't think any comedian is really fulfilled as a person, so they're a bit sad when you meet 'em.

So you'd say the portrait of clowns being depressed under the funny facade is accurate?

It's totally true. I'm not going to name exact names, but... I mean, we played Saturday Night Live and stuff, and met a few of these people, and it was like, "Damn! I thought you were gonna be like hell on wheels, but you're just... sad." Or maybe they were intimidated or something, because musicians throw this strange vibe on people. So we tend to psychoanalyze everyone and think we know everything, and sometimes it works and you can kind of intimidate people and maybe they were just trying to be really nice and not be too pushy.

...and you took it the wrong way?

No, I thought they were genuinely sad! Not the whole cast, you know? Just... the best ones.

There are two references to going to LA in the new album. Is anyone in the band thinking of going to LA?

Well, Ben thought he was gonna move to LA and he didn't. It was fairly literal. He had rented an apartment in LA for his girlfriend and he was gonna live there, and also have an apartment in Chapel Hill. And I was just like, okay, whatever. When it happens, it happens. And then, I think, right towards the end of the record, he decided not to move to LA. And I found out when he sang the lyric. I was like watching him singing "I won't move to LA" and I thought, well, he's not moving to LA! ...[beep] Hey Jason... I think that's another disgruntled journalist on the other line. Can you hold on?

Sure.

[on hold for a moment or two]

Hey. That was somebody, and they're pissed, boy.

Really?

Yeah. Fuck yeah. I was like "can you call back?" and they were like "It's not what I want. But okay."

What was going on in the beginning of "For All the Pretty People"?

Ben was playing bass, and when you play bass really loud in a room and the mic volume is really low because the amp volume is so high, and you're trying to get a word in on the arrangement, you can't. I mean, me and Darren can freely have a conversation because there are all these open mics in our rooms, and we can talk to each other on headphones like an intercom. But the bass player always has to scream to get a word in. So Ben's in there screaming "Alright you motherfuckers! I'm 7 inches tall now! I wanna rock! I wanna rock!" and me and Darren are totally winding him up... we kept starting and stopping and starting and stopping. "I'm not kidding this time! I wanna rock!"

So that was payback for all the times you've been stuck in the bass booth?

I've gotten pretty good at being in the bass booth. I've gotten into that "I really respect your work thing," which kinda makes him think, "Is he kidding?" So you have to choose your words wisely.

The age-old bass player question: pick versus no pick?

Uhh... right now, pick. It works better with a piano.

"Evaporated" seems to be a big hit with just about everybody. Why don't you pull it out live more?

It's just too low down. We were playing it for a while. Like, spring of last year we were playing it, and I was on double bass and then I'd bow the cello parts. But it just doesn't really get that impact the way it did. That song's a funny song. I mean, I've always been an advocate of it. But we recorded it and it was SO painful to record the first time we did it.

Why's that?

Well, we recorded it for the first record, and it didn't make it. But it was so good... the ritards in that song were so good. Like, the best ritards you've ever heard in your life were in that song. You can hear my heart beating almost. I mean, I almost had a heart attack. So, anything else after that is anti-climatic. The song is what it is, and we tried to do it as well as we could. It's not as emotional for us as something like "Selfless," because we kicked that song's ass in the studio.

You're all from the south, you have the song "Redneck Past." Have any of you, at any time, had a mullet?

No.

No? Stay away from the mullets?

Oh, hold on... I think Darren had a mullet! [laughs] I think he did! For about a week. He had it for about a week.

Well, I'm about out of questions... thanks for your time...

Oh, no problem. This Bob guy's gonna call back, he's gonna be so pissed.

Just tell him to chill out.

I think I'm just gonna sit there and jam in the background. Sit there and play guitar and say... "what?"

If you know another language, you could always just answer his questions not in English...

I knew it was gonna be some disgruntled motherfucker, so I answered the phone "Lee's Chinese Takeout" and he said, totally unphased, "I need to speak to Robert." I was like... okay... this is me. Sorry!

Feature #35:

As far as i'm concerned, anybody who says that they're above bathroom humor is just absolutely lying. This, i must admit, is damned funny. I saw it (no, i can't say i had anything to do with it) and almost fell of my chair laughing. Looked at it again an hour later, and i got the same results. This... is funny.

It's a banner ad campaign for a Brazilian internet company. Enjoy.

Feature #36:

If you haven't heard of this guy, you've really missed out...

(picture expired. sorry!)

That's Mahir.

A friend of mine had sent me Mahir's homepage not too long ago, at which i had many laughs and enjoyed in sharing said laughs with many friends of mine. It wasn't so much Mahir we were laughing at -- but more his innocent attempt at creating a personal homepage that just appealed in this horribly silly manner. His english isn't always up to par (he's from Turkey), the pictures he has of himself aren't the most flattering, and he simply lists his hobbies, interests, invites people to be his friends, and sends you "kisses." It all seems pretty harmless -- and it was.

However, what so appeals to me about Mahir now is what has happened to his site. Mysteriously, after one year of existence, someone copied it into a XOOM homepage, added a few comments about how he "likes sex," and spread it like wildfire.

Mahir, having his phone number on the site, began getting flooded with calls as the page was sent around the internet community. He, without knowing why, was suddenly thrust into the limelight of the internet world... everyone was saying something about Mahir, be it Spin.com or the always-entertaining Onion. In a matter of hardly any time at all, Mahir's site collected over one million hits -- and it's still growing. Absolutely insane, i'll tell you. Absolutely insane.

Once things got straightened out, Mahir still was being flooded with e-mails, pictures with people proclaiming that they "kiss you too," and was still a center of attention in the Turkish newspapers. Front page, this man got! In reaction to all this, he revised his site, removing the pictures of anyone but himself, adding a long story about how this whole mess had gotten started, and including a couple amusing pictures that people have sent him.

If only something like this could be harnessed over the internet. It's amazing, the power that this medium has.. and i don't think any of us are fully aware of it. I know i, with my puny little webpage that rounds up about 20 hits a day, haven't the foggiest idea. But still, it does make you wonder... will there be more Mahirs out there?

I'd encourage you to check out Mahir's page. See for yourself the pictures, the broken-english, and the glory. It's truly remarkable how this all happened. I'm sure he's far more baffled than i.

Feature #37:

I'm the managing editor for an illustrious magazine on the campus of Clark University called WheatBread Magazine. I had written this for a past issue, and the more i look around myself, the more i realize the horrible truth of this article. But hey, as to make anything easier to consume, i try to make it funny.

Perfect in Every Way

By Jason Feifer

Overwhelmed by the humor value of a cacophonous chorus of "push my button and I'll sing a muffled song while mechanically swaying" toys, a few friends and I had hardly any intention of moving from our front-row seats in the holiday isle at CVS. Dracula and Frankenstein were bopping in unison to Rock Around The Clock while a plastic wrapped-up corpse screamed in a whiny childish voice, "I'm telling my mummy on you!" One really has to wonder if the children of today are actually charmed by these autonomous stuffed musicians or if the toy industry has just gone to hell. Personally, I thought Teddy Rukspin was disturbing enough… and unlike a line of bug-eyed gorillas, he didn't even dance the macarena.

Yet there's only so much of seven fang-toothed Charlie Browns playing in awkward unison the Peanuts theme that one shopper can take. And so, off we went to go in search of some other product of misplaced commercialism to make fun of when, standing before us, was a real-life chattering monster. No older than twelve years old, the monster wore a red, poofy I-paid-a-lot-for-this-so-I-could-look-like-I'm-from-the-mean-streets jacket, large hoop earrings, and more eye shadow than an under-sexed porn star. Parting her heavily layered lipstick-covered mouth, the monster before us spoke.

"How old are you guys?"

"Uhh, why?" my friend asked.

"Are you old enough to buy cigarettes?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

The monster perked up. Eyes widening to convey what I took to be the sex appeal of a Teletubby, she smiled and asked if we would purchase her a pack of scandalous smelly cancer sticks. Eyebrows furrowed, the speaker for our dumbfounded group informed her that we don't make a practice out of buying cigarettes for people. The monster, smacked in the face with defeat, threw her arms up in the air and stormed off, leaving us with her parting food for thought.

"God, people are so boring these days!"

These days? This girl was wearing diapers throughout the Bush administration! These days littered with us "boring" people are the only days she knows. And to compliment it all, she's spending "these days" getting dolled up and hitting older guys up for cigarettes at CVS. When I was twelve, I probably would just been mesmerized by the stupid singing toys.

It almost makes me want to break out into song. Kids. What's the matter with kids today? It seems as if kids are completely unaware of their position in this lifeline of society, as they're trying so desperately to grow up before they actually do. Consequently, it's ruining not only them, but also the way people perceive them. No child fresh out of elementary school is ever going to be taken seriously "talkin' smack" or wearing enormous baggy jeans. Hell, there was a kid walking around campus last month threatening students with a hammer. That's no childhood antic.

When I walked through the halls of my high school, an occasional middle schooler (the two schools shared a building) would poke fun at me for my shoes. If I did that when I was in middle school, I would have had my face broken. I don't want to make myself seem holier/wiser/older-than-thou, but I can distinctively remember a fine mixture of fear and respect for anybody significantly taller or older than I was back in my younger hours. I watched TV like it was the most exciting part of my day, played video games until my parents could no longer endure the endlessly repeating Mario Brothers theme song, and sometimes threw a tennis ball around with a friend. Everyone I knew did just about the same thing, but maybe I missed out on avoiding my "real" youth?

I'd tend to think not, though. I can't recall a single instance when a fellow sixth grader was caught receiving a hand job on a school bus during a field trip. But it happened in that same aforementioned middle school two years ago! When I was in sixth grade, I doubt I even knew what that was, let alone wanting to receive one. That boy on the bus most likely hasn't gotten his first pubic hair, and he's getting caught with her hand in his pants? Something's drastically wrong here.

That sixth grade class had quite an eventful year, though. Blowjobs in an arcade photo booth? Check. Mass oral sex at birthday parties? Check. It disturbs me as much as it's expectantly disturbing you, so I'll cease with the examples. But the point's made abundantly clear that these kids - as are so many others - have just skipped directly over that childhood innocence that a good majority of us fondly look back upon and hold so dear.

What happened there? What's the rush? Is it so appealing to get a 9-to-5 job, support a family, or just live paycheck to paycheck? Instead of playing catch, kids are snorting crack. Is there something so wrong with childhood that these tykes feel the need to skip right over it, effectively just using their younger years as a blind man's nose-dive into the more attractive aspects of "growing up?" And moreover, what a sad condition these kids are going to be in when they actually do go hurtling past puberty.

It's no use to start passing the buck, because that never really does any good. There's been plenty erroneous blame-throwing in the recent media, and it seems we're all just about blamed out from movies, TV, society, etc. Still, it's a shame. Childhood was a good time and, in my humble idealistic vision of the world, kids should use it to be children. Because boy, I'll tell you. If all that's good about being out of middle school is hand jobs and cigarettes, I'm just going to start digging out my old Nintendo.

Feature #38:

This is all true. I promise.

"Love" and flying crackers: The diner doorway to culthood.

(an honest-to-goodness, 100% completely true story)

By Jason Feifer

My friends and I had developed a tradition out of wrapping up our nights at Denny's, the late-night Mecca for odds and ends of people seeking sub-par breakfast food with slightly ridiculous names, after every concert we attended. We found it a nice place to relax and eat hashed browns, eagerly soaking in the ever-intriguing atmosphere that such an establishment is bound to provide in the wee-hours of the morning.

One night, my friend Lilli and I had gone to Denny's a bit earlier than the rest of our regular group, and were sat down at a medium-sized table near the back of the quasi-diner. We waited for a minute or two, debating over the quality of the musicians we had just seen and the whereabouts of our lollygagging friends when we're approached by our waiter - a man in his late-thirties, overweight, wearing thick glasses, who talked with a blatantly gay lisp while his head desperately clung to the thinning hair that remained on the sides of his balding scalp. He stood at the foot of our table, forcefully smacked our menus down in front of us, and said, "Whaddaya wanna drink?"

We both ordered waters, and our waiter - who wore a little nametag on his floral Denny's outfit informing us that his name was George - scoured at us and shuffled away. Not more than a few seconds later, we found ourselves bombarded with crackers that George was gleefully hurling at us from a few tables over, amusing the family of four that he was currently serving. As he brought us our waters, he once again positioned himself at the foot of the table and individually flung around ten straws at Lilli, looked at the both of us, and in the most monotonous voice, deadpanned, "I'm sorry I'm so happy." He then, once again, shuffled away.

As our friends arrived, George didn't fail to meet up to the picture we so anxiously painted for them. He deliberately spilled our drinks all over the floor, continued to throw more and more things at us, sat down next to Lilli and stroked her leg for an incredibly uncomfortable moment, re-named her "Tinkerbell" and me "Shithead," and followed it all up by having one of the cooks come out and tell another friend that she was beautiful. When all was said and done and all meals had been consumed, George asked us if we wanted to hear a story.

Of course, we did.

George stood in front of us and, with a budding smirk, imparted an anti-climactic story of black magic that involved a woman lighting up a room that had no light bulbs or windows. Seeming quite pleased with the tale he wove, he asked us to come back and, for each time we did, we'd receive another story of the same spell-binding magnitude. And, more intrigued by a waiter who would throw things at his patrons than slightly irrational stories, we eagerly awaited our next Denny's visit.

George never changed. And if his rude-waiter routine was merely an act, he never once let it up. Every visit was guaranteed to have increasingly more outrageous and occasionally perverse antics, and every friend we every brought in to show off George was instantly mystified along with the rest of us. Once, after yet another story of black magic involving all the world's knowledge being captured inside four boxes which was then implanted within four people's stomachs, he challenged us to located any information about a man named Assa. If we could do it in a month, we'd get a free dessert - a prize that, while enticing, was not anything too special. George gave us free food all the time, anyway.

My friends and I scurried around our school and local libraries for a month trying to find Assa, so fired by this small key to something within George's head that we attempted to enlist the knowledge of every teacher we had ever come in contact with. Nobody knew anything about this mystical figure, and at the end of a month we had nothing to report to George.

There wasn't much of a consequence, and we received free drinks and deserts on a slightly regular basis even without the conquest of our mission. The black magic stories and flying crackers continued for over a year.

Then, one night, George asked us when we'd be back to Denny's next, as he had a surprise waiting for us. We told him when the next concert was, and came in before the show was to even start on that night. We waltzed into Denny's and were greeted by George, who pointed our attention to a man sitting at a table near the front of the establishment.

The man, in his twenties, was a strange cross between a military figure and a British punk rocker, sporting a tight tank-top, a buzzed haircut, and an unsettling large swastika tattooed on his right arm. He was holding a book and greeted us with a flashy smile, firmly shaking everyone's hand and invited the lot of us to sit down with him.

The then proceeded to tie together every black magic story George ever told us.

The gist of his presentation was this: George not only was a waiter in Denny's, but he owns a large amount of property in London and is an significant part of an alternate religion that predates organized civilization started by a man named Assa. A supposedly brilliant conqueror, Assa took over many small and budding nations around Mesopotamia and then proceeded to develop a religion that has no name but is only referred to as "love." Four magical boxes - the physical make-up of which the tattooed man wasn't even sure of, claiming they might be made of metal or large blood clots - were filled with all the knowledge of the universe and implanted into the four most important members of "love"'s society's stomachs, of which these boxes would then be passed down when the carrier died or as he saw fit. In today's rendition of "love," the carrier of a box would have an understudy which he would do kind things for every day and, when the understudy was ready, would have the box transplanted out of his stomach and into the understudy.

The tattooed man claimed to be George's understudy, and George was one of the box carriers. The man assured us that George had the scar to prove it, although none of us could gather the courage to ask to see it. He was also rather quick to point out that any of the nice things George does for him as his understudy had nothing to do with sex, as he didn't "go that way." Instead, they came in the forms of small amounts of money, free food at Denny's, or various thoughtful trinkets. The man then, in classic cult terms, told us that he couldn't explain all of "love" to us that night, but he'd be happy to meet us later and impart more words of wisdom down upon us - all, naturally, "so you can understand it better. I'm not pressuring you into anything," he assured us.

After the man had said his piece, we weakly thanked George for the "surprise" and went off to our concert, deciding that we might want to take a nice, long break from George. It appeared, as I can best make sense of the whole situation in retrospect, that George had, for the past year and change, been trying to recruit us into a cult.

A few months later, we returned to see George, who gave us all a hug and then, once we were seated, went back to throwing things at us and being his usual rude and strangely charming self. None of us ever gathered up the courage to mention any of the things the man had said to us to George, and in turn, George left the black magic stories out of our evening.

This summer, George moved somewhere north where, for all we know, he might still be working at a Denny's, waiting for the sacrosanct day when he removes a box of knowledge from his stomach and gives it to a tattooed man. Maybe it was all true, and George moved back to bask in his large amounts of property in London.

We'll really never know. George never gave us any clues. But really, it's far better that way.

Feature #39:

If you're looking for lessons on how to be smooth, be sure NOT to talk to Ed. This... is Ed:

(picture expired. sorry!)

Ed is a lonely guy, it seems. He's set up a website (which has since expired, but was searchingforher.com) that offers a $25,000 reward to anyone who can set him up with a "special woman" who he shall fall madly in love with. To sweeten the deal, Ed then takes up five pages explaining himself, going through each grade of grade school in excruciating detail.

In the middle of all this, we learn the following about Ed. It's a lesson i think we should all take -- when searching for true love, maybe it's a good idea to now dwell in the past. Don't be like Ed, folks. Although, i wish him the best of luck.

I had a lot of fun times with my friends Mike, Roger & Kevin. We all lived on the same block. I remember one day I was at Mike's house on a regular summer day. I think I was 5 or 6 at the time, maybe 4. And we were bored. Mike thought it would be a great idea to play "G.I. Joes." But I didn't like that idea at all. My dad had tried to teach me certain things about being a man, such as you can never hit girls, and things like that. Well, these G.I. Joe things were dolls, and there was no way I was going to play with a doll. So I refused. It was around this moment that I suddenly felt an urgent need to go to the bathroom. I asked Mike nicely if I could use his bathroom.

"Only if you promise to play G.I. Joes," he said.

No way. I couldn't agree to that. I said "Mike, I've got to go really bad. Would you please let me use your bathroom?"

Again he said, "Only if you promise to play G.I. Joes."

I would not compromise my values. There was no way in the world I was going to play with a doll. I considered running home. I might have been able to make it, but a quick moment later I just knew I was in trouble. One more time I asked, pleading to use his bathroom - which was 2 floors above me. He said the same stupid thing to me. I stood there and looked at him; he looked at me, and then I felt this warm liquid running down my leg. We watched it drip on to his basement carpet. Mike was stunned. He said I had to clean it up. I refused though. I left with my head held high as I walked home to change my pants. And I never did play with a G.I. Joe.

All these years later I still keep in touch with Mike. He has forgotten that episode.

There are more features to be had.

Features I II III IV V VI VII VIII IX X XI XII XIII XIV XV XVI

Or, we can always go back.