John Wayne's Secret Vagina

I really shouldn't call this post "John Wayne's Secret Vagina." It's like punching my old man in the face.

I just posted a myspace bulletin for "The V Game." Basically, you take the title of a movie and replace one word with "Vagina." Hilarious results ensue. But I made a big discovery while thinking of an answer:

ANY John Wayne movie is perfect for this game.

Some examples:
The Vagina of Katie Elder (Sons)
Vagina Grande (Rio)
Operation Vagina (Pacific)
The Sands of Va Gina (Iwo Jima) (I'm going to hell for that one)
Vagina! (McClintock!)
Flying Vaginas (Leathernecks)
Vagina Straight Ahead! (California)

But, by far, the best are his movies with multiple possibilities. Some further examples:
The Green Vaginas / The Vagina Berets
Angel and the Vagina / Vagina and the Badman
Overland Stage Vaginas / Overland Vagina Riders
Vagina in the Sky / Island in the Vagina
and my personal favorite:
Reap the Vagina Wind / Reap the Wild Vagina

Remember, I'm only pointing out a phenomenon here, so please, "Don't Shoot the Vagina (Messenger.)"

Today's Top 5

Top five bands/music whose fans I like to make fun of:

1. KISS

Chuck Klosterman said it best when he said, "Most bands want to be The Beatles. KISS wants to be Coca-Cola." He is 100% correct. KISS is the Star Trek of rock.

2. Slipknot

Seriously, guys. Come on. Masks? There's another band out there who would truly send you to Hell. Gwar. Fuck you. I know Gwar borrowed aspects of their schtick from other bands, most especially Alice Cooper but such is rock. Slipknot is just a bad impersonation. There's a difference. You kids need better heroes.

3. Sugar Ray/Smashmouth

The last I heard of Sugar Ray they were playing the infield at some two-bit car race in Richmond, Va. Aren't the members (not to mention the sound) of these two bands interchangeable? Remember that really bad period of absolutely terrible SoCal rock in the late 90s?* These guys, plus that Ever-band, what were they called Everlast, Everglade, Everlake?** They were terrible. All of them, including Len, Lit, and especially Offspring. Can we just forget about them now? Has everybody else already forgotten them and I just cling to their memory as the symbol of everything that was wrong with the late 90s? However, that Sugar Ray guy, Mark or whatever, the one who became a VH1 veejay, was really great on Rock n Roll Jeopardy. He's the Raymond Babbitt of post-'50s musicology. (Just go look up the name on imdb.com...) The part of this that makes me the saddest is that the coming of Sugar Ray and Offspring signaled the end of the great musical movement of my teenage years. We only got 4 really good years. Come to think of it, maybe that was enough.

4. Speaking of VH1, any band from VH1's "Bands on the Run."

No, SoulCracker does not rock. The girls in Harlow aren't that hot, except for the bass player under the "Female Bass Players are always mega-hot" corollary. BotR winners Flickerstick actually played a Wednesday show at Jammin' Java in Falls Church, Va. I think more people actually went to see the opening band.***

5. Norwegian Death Metal.

It's time to leave your mother's basement.

*This does not in any way include Sublime.
** I looked it up on allmusic.com. Everclear. Their name puts them at the top of the "Top 5 Bands Who Ruined a Potentially Great Band Name by Sucking."
*** I slipped in this entire entry just because I wanted to make fun of Flickerstick, my arch-nemeses.

"The Atheist's Nightmare"

Kirk Cameron And Bananas

Look for the face he makes right after he says, "Ease of entry."

This one actually made me shed a single, mirth-filled tear.

Birthday coming!

So those in the know already know that my 28th birthday is fast approaching on Sunday. (The party's Saturday night at Velvet Lounge for those who didn't.) Perhaps as a symbol of my inevitable slow march to old age, my dishwasher arrived yesterday and never have I been happier. I am truly excited, feeling like a kid who gets exactly what he wants on Christmas morning. If that's not a symbol of getting older, I don't know what is. "Excitement for appliances" has to rank pretty high. But I don't care. Up until yesterday, "lazy on dishes" ranked at the top of the "Why is Max so dirty?" list. No more.

Here's a picture of me hugging the dishwasher (which looks like a huge microwave):



Look at that lower lip bite! I must be super-excited.

Some other things I realized this morning:
1. New appliances rock but are easy to stumble into when bleary eyed and not-so-bushy-tailed.
2. Referring to yourself in the 3rd person should only be reserved for sex. ex. "Rolfe is inside you now."
3. Three Iggy Pop songs in a row on my iPod during the ride to work is not only dangerous, but fun.

3 Post Day.... Possibly

So I'm really excited this morning. It's more a mark of my rapid aging, but still, I'm excited nonetheless.

For those who don't know, I turn 28 in 10 days. We're celebrating at Velvet Lounge on Apr. 29th with three bands, City-State, The Sad Little Stars, and Pawns. It's going to be a fun night and, as I see it, I work there for very little pay, so why not take advantage of the perks? There's a cover charge, but I'm working on getting an extended guest list, more than my usual four people.

But that's not why I'm excited. For about three years now, I've never known what I truly wanted for my birthday. That streak ended today. My friend sent me a link that might possibly change my life. A DISHWASHER! A portable one that plugs into the sink and fits on top of my counter. This rocks and it's on its way to my own countertop as I write this. I can't believe how giddy this is making me. Ridiculous.

My favorite people

Today I got an oil change and tune up for $20 from my old pal at the garage down the street from work. That guy is awesome. While I am not able to be this man myself, I am relieved to see that he and his kind still have a place in this world. It just wouldn't be the same without them.

Today he wore a simple Slayer t-shirt, and, since he wore a Cinderella tshirt during my last visit, I'm led to believe that he lives in a world of perpetual 1987. He exudes the very epitome of '80s metalhead, with his flowing mane capped by a blank black hat, black leather varsity jacket, tshirt tucked into faded acid washed jeans held in place by a silver-tooled leather belt and sensible thick-soled black leather shoes. You just know that somewhere in his deepest closet there exists a jean jacket with a Def Leppard logo stitched onto the back. Sometimes a man must even hide from himself.

His wife, with her bleached blond hair teased to the sky, adjusts her off-the-shoulder black top when she hears his conversion van pull up in the driveway. Greeted with a kiss, he idly tugs on her simple polished chain belt, spinning it back and forth through her acid-washed belt loops, and tells her to put on her black Indian moccasin boots as it's time to hit the road. WASP is playing at Jaxx. "Can you believe we didn't know?" he asks. Sometimes a man has to do what he must when there's rock in the air.

But she's ecstatic.

Later, after Chris Holmes' heady guitar riffs whip their inner teenagers into a frenzy, the moonlight glints off the chromed Busch beer tire cover, dancing across the slightly swaying ceiling of the conversion van in a dangerous counterpoint to The Scorpions' "Rock Me Like a Hurricane." As you all should know, when this van's a-rockin', well, you get the point...

Snakes on a Plane, Bitches!

First off, I'll be making the trip back home to visit my River City Hoodrats next weekend (Mar. 31st.) I think right now the plan is drinks at the Purple Onion Saturday night if anyone wants to join us. I might even be staying through Monday, depending on my mental state upon submission of my final grad application.

Second. "Snakes on a Plane" starring Samuel L. Jackson. This is the dumbest yet possible greatest movie ever. Apparently, Sam just decided to make the most awful movie possible, completely tongue-in-cheek. As the story goes, the working title was "Snake on a Plane" and the producers tried to change it to "Flight 425" or whatever and Sam refused to continue shooting the movie unless the title remained "Snakes on a Plane."

Just say "Snake on a PLANE, mothafucka!" in your best Sam Jackson voice. Endless fun. I can't wait to see the promo interviews.

Catch the trailer here. "I've had it with these snakes." *click*

(I apologize for the use of improper language. However, I must say, it was definitely necessary and worth it.)

Weird, huh?

Your #1 Match: ENFP

The Inspirer You love being around people, and you are deeply committed to your friends. You are also unconventional, irreverant, and unimpressed by authority and rules. Incredibly perceptive, you can usually sense if someone has hidden motives. You use lots of colorful language and expressions. You're qutie the storyteller! You would make an excellent entrepreneur, politician, or journalist.

What's Your Personality Type?

I paid $100 during college to take the Meyers-Brigg test yet a poorly spelled 40 question internet quiz gets the same exact result. Actually, I took it twice. My Extrovert/Introvert score switchd exactly, 9 on E the first time, 9 on I the second. INFP is the standard for historical researchers, librarians, and missionaries; ENFP people are best suited for journalism and politics. I've done them all to a modicum of success. Scary.

This also led to the "Max should join the Peace Corp" debacle of 1999, leaving me stuck for an afternoon at Sweet Briar College in Lynchburg, Va., aka the "College for Girls Who Like Horses a Little Too Much." I guess the cute girls of the exclusive all-girls school world don't visit Peace Corp seminars, but the Nathalie's do. Peppermint Patty and Marcie too. I just wanted to work in Nepal.

Now, Top 5 things from the past week:

1. I can write here until my face turns blue. However, I cannot write more than 500 words on my grad school personal statement, which is due to GWU in two weeks and needs 200 more words and a conclusion.
2. Neil Bush's son is an idiot, but is it funny or scary? Whichever, I'm willing to bet this video comes back to haunt him, nawhaI'msayin?
3. Dan from Analog Jetpack banged his head on a stage light, almost blacked out, then played the rest of the set with only a 3-string bass. The man's a genius.
4. My car sucks. She no longer loves me. Two breakdowns in one week. What I do, Martha? Bitch... I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. Here's a car freshener...
5. My St. Patrick's Day show at Velvet Lounge is going to rock. Telograph, Koshari, Deleted Scenes. That is the order. Come. Here's the Flyer:

Tigertronic is Dead

It's time for a new update. For real. I've missed writing here a lot, even if only to get my thoughts on the page while filling some extroverted need for attention. Here's an attention grabber:

I think my band, Tigertronic, is dead.

We've fallen victim to the Contrarian Virus, which endangers democracy-based bands across the world on a daily basis. Here's how it works:
1. A new band forms, socializing happens, dreams are shared, music is played, alcohol (in this case, large, sometimes scary amounts) drank.
2. A decision-making group arises in the band, democratic rules abound, compromises are made.
3. One person in the group begins to feel left out. He/she begins to disagree with everything, if only to have a larger say in the workings of the band. They are known as the Contrarian.
4. The Contrarian desires to rule the band and become the main decision-maker, causing major amounts of strife, and sucking all fun from the band. In his/her own mind, they will cause so much hassle that eventually all will simply ask him what he wants instead of upsetting the rest of the herd by proposing new ideas without Herr Contrarian's prior advice.
5. Band breaks up from non-interest due to excessive negativity and everybody goes their own way.

This has happened to every band I've ever been in where democratic rules were enforced. It's shockingly similar to Aristotle's own theories on democracy and its eventual yet inevitable decline into tyranny. Funny how ancient political theory can still relate to the modern world, huh?

But in order to save the beast, sometimes we must kill it. The three main songwriters (including me) will soldier on in a different form and the same name, but it just won't be the same. However, I'm out there looking for a new band as well, hopefully controlled under an iron-banded dictatorship. I just want to play music.

There's promise. Check these guys out and let me know what you think. They're doing the whole alt-country/indie rock Wilco-thing that I've been listening to and playing in garages since the age of 16. Maybe it's time for a return to my Southern roots? Plus, they play mah jong every Friday night. Better for the complexion, that Mah Jong. There's some other options, including some pretty big local bands I've booked before (and whose flyers have appeared here,) but I can just hear my Hammond rumbling along humbly underneath or a flashy trumpet sounding out brightly on a few of these Rosemont kids' numbers.

Last night, I was really down, losing the faith, wondering if music should mean as much as it does to me. Gazing at the black, dingy tolex of the Fender Rhodes, I figured it was time for a good cleaning. Wedged back along the wall, dust rag impossibly dirty, a batch of my old piano books were found hidden in the well of my amp. Pulling out a selection of Claude Debussy, I flipped the switch and started into "Claire de Lune," my piano masters' class recital piece from my 3rd year at UVa. Clunking through, clumsy, ill-tempered (in a clavical way), I felt that old familiar warm tingle creep up the back of my neck, raising hairs, mingling, swirling, flushing my cheeks, teasing the corners of my mouth into a smile before settling in my eyes, becoming shiny and brilliant. Last chord slowly sings its way off into the distance. There it was, lost but no forgotten, found exactly where I had left it.

Don't worry about me, I'm fine.

That Sanberg Kid

That Adam Sanberg on SNL is the only kid on that show worth watching. Natalie Portman got in on the fun this week. Gotta love that keytar at the end:



If you like ninjas, check out Sanberg's previous project, "The Bu."