There is actually a place in the world were there aren't enough lawyers
This is just plain wrong

This blog is very impressive. Don't worry, albi, we are gettin' there.

Best arguement I've seen so far for why crack is good.

My little counter is growing up faster than I thought. This is quite unexpected. I guess your older brother was defective, after all. Anyway, though this is late, here is the weekend update:

First things first, on friday I went with a couple of friends to see a couple of friends perform on stage. The venue was the Prodigal Son, an awesome little venue on Halstead that has an impressive beer selection and, get this, twelve different kinds of grilled cheese. Any place that has both lambic and a big lighted elvis sign gets my respect, and the cramped theater felt very intimate. The band we went to see was first coat, whose lead guitarist, Wil Long, is girl-friends ex-roommates sisters boy-friend and a good aquantance. They played an awesome, albeit short, set that I want to talk about briefly. They're lead female vocalist was amazing, though on stage it is quite a strange experience were there was a seeming disparity between appearance and voice. She is a tiny little thing, with a tiny little mandolin, short hair, glasses, and yet has this booming warm voice. You should download some of their mp3's and look at their photos to see what I am talking about. On the whole they were very good on stage, Wil had a silent elvis-swagger which I found to be very entertaining. The girl, Becky, didn't sing in too many of the songs, which I felt to be a shame. The other male vocalist, Connor, sounded very good in the recordings, but did not seem at ease on stage. He also had earplugs on, which I thought might explain some of it.

The second band is not really worth mentioning, I cant even really remember their names (I think it was the geese? the piece? someone was screaming it into my ear during the concert, but I couldnt make it out.) But the last band, oow ah, they wer sure sumthin'. They were another U of Chicago band, Leon Chance and the Longshots but I think all the band members already graduated some years back. Their a u of c band that played, now get this, country music and bluegrass. Now besides the elitist bullshit that comes along with this place, I find this remarkable since in certain parts of the southside that kind of music can get you shot. I personally will always have mucho respect for Johnny Cash, but it's that Garth Brooks-style stuff that I can't handle. Retro in the wrong direction? A certain facet of Americana I dont understand and thus cannot appreciate? Who knows, but I really did like the Longshot's stuff. I've actually chatted with Leon a couple of times, and he is a really cool guy. Their band played an awesome set of songs about "drinking and cheating", and my personal favorite was their song entitled "Adultery". They had an interesting set-up, drums, upright bass, accordion, and Leon on guitar and vocals. They also had a good stage presence, like they were really making music for the fun of it, a kind straight-face with a big smile. It gave me more of a authentic, willie nelson feel, rather than that amphetimines and nascar clangy sound which I abhor. It explained to me why the "O brother where art thou" soundtrack sold so well, it has a kind of natural feel to it that modern country seems to avoid for the sake of being redneck-camp. You know what I mean, shiny polyester cow-boy outfits and commercials for dr. pepper. I guess rock went through a similar phase in the 80's with the big-hair bands, but we all know the reaction to that was the bare-bones seattle scene. Every time a musical movement gets too big, too commercial, in comes the polyester. Boom. In comes the guys with holey plaid shirts to save what remains of that musics soul. Repeat.

Does that mean techno is ripe for a bare-bones, holey-plaid treatment?

Last time I wrote a long post, and somewhere it is lost in an abyss of data. I am positive that I pressed the post button, but alas, no post. Oh well. What I ranted about was my puerile counter that refused to go wherever I tried to put it, finding itself static in a post. Silly silly little counter. A mere five hits old, and it killed me, but I had to let it go. It hurt me immensley when I had to cut it from the code, but I will not do the same mistake twice. Here, dear counter, is your young brother. May he never grow more than one hit old. To me he is perfect in his innocence, my gentle, playful little counter,