HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

OK, this is pretty hilarious. I love the Mike Meyers-esque/Dr. Evil eyebrow raise near the end they use of McCain. So good.

Here’s a review Lightsey Darst wrote on Brown Rocket. She really is a wonderful writer(even if she isn’t “mulling [Brown Rocket] over a few weeks from now.”) Nevertheless, there are some really great quotes in this review that made my stomach and heart switch places.

Here’s a bit of cool press through Danny(Brown Rocket‘s drummer and artist).

City Pages by Caroline Palmer

Pioneer Press: Preview of Momentum

Star Tribune: Preview of Momentum

Walker’s Press Release

Minneapolis/St. Paul Magazine notice

and there’s a really great article that focuses on Brown Rocket in the July issue of Twin Cities Luxury and Fashion, unfortunately not online.

I listen to sermon podcasts regularly, primarily evangelical sermons, and have noticed in place of the traditional AMENs and HALLELUJAHs is the falsettoed “Whoo!”

It’s kind of annoying. 

Gets at Al Gore’s main points, for which he won the Peace Prize, in twenty minutes. Check it out.

Just came across this ad in Craiglist’s “free” section (italics mine): ______________________________________

Depends for men (Richfield)

Date: 2008-05-26, 4:54PM CDT

I have a package containing 45 individually packed “Depends for Men”. I know longer need them and hate to see them go to waste. Email me if you are interested in picking the package up at my house at ****************.

_____________________________________

So honest and sincere. And individually packed! Wow.   

Here is a poem I wrote last summer that was meant to be a song, but I put it off. I finally got around to making a rough draft (when I probably should have been doing my taxes or fixing my ceiling) and this is it. Please excuse the bad recording, I just used the built in computer microphone and the high notes get a little loud sometimes.

Another Siren Song

She’s that fantastic person in the blue and white dress
She wears no make-up, her hair is a mess.
She’s pretty and lit.

She takes my breath and stores it in pockets,
She takes my soul and hooks it to rockets
That come in a kit.

If I could open her skin I’d find sunlight and clover,
I’d roll in her waves, over and over,
She’d drown me in azure and make me her lover.
She’d draw me a sword.

You’ll listen to her words through her limping tongue
And think of brown cows licking their young
Out past the spring.

Her muscles are wrought with fat womens’ whistles
Her knees are implanted with alien missiles.
I hear her sing…

“Come into my kitchen with your tin-kettle hat,
I will break your will with my wiffle-ball bat,
together we will sever all the muscle from the fat,
the babe from the cord.”

And slowly you’ll find your fancy yacht tipping,
Your sails from the mast, your own volition, ripping.
She slips off her perch.

Walking barefoot on the carpet, her eyes blue burning,
She’s the keeper of the zoo, the cages she’s turning,
And peeling the birch.

You’ll lose your way in the ivory wood.
You’ll forget your life was ever good.
She’ll lay before you veil and hood,
then climb aboard.