I’ve heard that Nathan Lane is vying for the role of Conan when this musical opens on Broadway..

As a casual music fan, I’ve been listening to Peter Gabriel for years without knowing his face. It was a little disconcerting to discover via this video that he now resembles an old, bald, Dennis Hopper on a protein shake binge. Furthering the sensory disconnect, he still manages to conjure some pretty sweet-sounding stuff.

This blues piece cuts to the quick. That’s all this whole fiasco boils down to. Yes it was brought on by corruption, incompetence and indifference, but in the end, all it comes down to is humans with power murdering those without. The habitats and oceans simply got in the way this time.

This battle hymn against the corporatists was composed by MOTU and performed at the Beach Barrier Blues Festival in Long Beach, NY.

This — this is something special. Not only does it rate very highly on the internet scale of bizarro, it also taps into some interesting mythological imagery. My favorite aspect is that the Godhead/dummy keeps looking back to the nun ventriloquist to make sure that he’s not stepping out of line with his incomprehensible advice dispensing.

Not only thrilled this morning with the group-clinching goal by US Soccer Poster Boy, Landon Donovan, but also of the internet for almost instantaneously spawning this amazing video montage to its greatness.

Road trips are one of the few contexts in which we can justify taking a break from perpetual media consumption and spend some time actually able to hear our own thoughts. While they can be uncomfortable or painful at times, it’s nice to know we still have the capability to reflect.

As a dyed in the wool Stanley Kubrick fan, this pairing occurred to me as wildly uneven. As a Brooklyn kid, I like Goodfellas and Gangs of New York as much as the next guy, but have a hard time putting them in the same league as A Clockwork Orange or 2001. Cinematically, though, they are all wondrous to watch – and quite compelling as opposite ends of this mashup.

The Greatest American Five Fingers, The Teabag Doesn’t Fall Far From the Tree for Rand Paul, We Like Ice Cream Because It’s ICE CREAM!, What if We Just Lightly Sear Them?, Lakers Fail at Immigration, Invading Arizona for Fun, Profit, and Golf Courses, Greg Roots For the Insurance Company to Win the Bet, and the BuddhaFather.

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It is now halftime in Game 7 of the “most anticipated” NBA Finals in years. The score is 40-34. Boston is winning, but that doesn’t matter. What does matter is that the Lakers and Celtics, the two most decorated teams in the history of the sport, have laid a stale, constipated turd on the heads of American basketball fans for the past week and a half.

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I’m tired of all these man-made disasters. Can’t we endure some kind of catastrophe that isn’t of our own creation? Nothing brings human beings together like some good old nature’s wrath. Fortunately, the sun has been preparing for such an event for eleven years now, and is about to unleash hell on all of our iPhones and Twitter account-carrying servers.

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