Daddy Likes

I’m still digesting the new Walkmen (You & Me), but so far it’s fantastic.  Definitely a “mature” album musically and thematically.  Gestures and moments that came off as slightly quirky or precious on the previous albums now sound fully integrated into the bigger picture.

And props for donating some proceeds to the Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center.

Random Rules

Pitchfork interviews David Berman.  As much as I like The Silver Jews, I’d love to read a new book of poetry from him.  Doesn’t sound likely though, which is a shame.

Oeuvre

The Onion AV club comes through again with an exhaustive “primer” (more like a dissertation, at least in web terms) on Woody Allen’s films.

(Am I the only person who loved Deconstructing Harry?)

Heresy

I sold my car today and I’ll be leaving to teach English in Korea next week.

As excited as I am to be travelling abroad, it feels even better to be car-less.  They’re such an integral part of the American lifestyle, and yet such utter pains in the backside.  I’m hardly an environmental purist, but I relish the thought of never having to pay for gas again.  And I won’t be sending GEICO hundreds of dollars a year to subsidize the incompetent driving habits of others.

So farewell little black Honda Civic.  May you provide affordable gas mileage and plucky stylishness to someone else in need.

Realism Returns (Seven Years Too Late)

Metafilter post on Andrew Bacevich’s new book The Limits of Power: The End of American Exceptionalism, with excerpts.

Agony of Lame

I love me some Olympics, but I don’t think NBC understands what the word “live” means.  I’m happily watching most of it so far on the CBC, who showed Phelps winning his second gold in the 4×100 relay a few hours before NBC did (with a “live” graphic, natch).

Further proof that Canada could rule the universe if they weren’t so darn nice all the time.

Black Moses

Isaac Hayes dies far too young at 65.

Say It Ain’t So

John Edwards admits to having an affair while his wife was sick with cancer.

This stings a bit.  I’d thought he was one of the few remaining good guys.  Turns out, he’s just another pig.

Concision

Folk Songs

Sausage-makers of History,
The bloody kind,
You all hail from a village
Where the dog barking at the moon
Is the only poet.
          *
O King Oedipus, O Hamlet,
Fallen like flies
In the pot of cabbage soup,
No use beating with your fists,
Or sticking your tongues out.
          *
Christ-faced spider on the wall
Darkened by evening shadows,
I spent my childhood on a cross
In a yard full of weeds,
White butterflies, and white chickens.

–Charles Simic

When You’re a Jet

Favre goes to Jersey.

This is just like the time Shakespeare completed Hamlet and decided to finish up his career working for Penthouse Letters.