The RIAA doesn’t get it and they’re a bunch of stupid fartballs.
Muxtape is down because the RIAA doesn’t get it. RIAA wiggled its eyebrows and now I don’t have my Muxtape. Motherscratchers.
Here’s the thing. Stuff like Muxtape helps sell albums. Or should. If the industry would approach this shit right.
Because. Overall. A population of consumers that is more and more and more educated in music appreciation, a group that feels ownership of its music and of the media itself, that’s a group that’s more willing to buy CDs and shit.
If you insist on selling music, you won’t sell music. You’re not selling music. You’re selling love. And we all know how that works. You give some to get some.
Anyway, I made this pizza. The crust is Boboli whole wheat, and the sauce is Pizza Quick. Then there’s a whole mess of onions cooked soft because I had minced onions left and some chopped up broccoli because I had leftover brocolli {the new-fangled steam-in-a-bag-kind, which worked well because it had lots of water in it and therefore did not burn up in the oven( and some yummy sweet Italian sausage and of course mozarell’. It was really gud. And I foiled a few slices up for lunch tomorrow. Plus I have sausage left for a frustration stew I’m planning.
I made a meatloaf Sunday, and it was all right. I wanted to jot down some notes for myself for later.
Meatloaf has been one of my eternal struggles. I want to know how to make a delicious one. I have for years. In the past, my meatloaves have always been fairly disasterous, ones you could eat with a spoon. With the last few (and the correct recipes, supplied as a stocking stuffer from my Moms last Christmas), I have at least gotten the structural challenges down. Now I’m not sure the flavor is what it needs to be.
Here’s the recipe I used.
1 1/4 pounds lean ground beef
1/2 pound low-fat bulk sausage*
Two smallish eggs
1 small onion, chopped
One Grated Carrot
2 tablespoons ketchup
3/4 cup oatmeal
Salt and pepper to taste.
(I think I also threw in some watered steak sauce from a near-empty bottle.)
Combine all this gunk. Make into a large ball, plop it on a tray or some junk, bake for 80 to 90 minutes at 325, then check with a meat thermometer and continue baking when it says it’s not done yet.
The only thing I might change is the pork used. I did not use a sausage but a normal ground pork. A sausage would have added more yowsa, which is something I tend to like a lot of. I also wonder if some of my magickal poy roast seasoning would have added something something something.
I also made a macarooni and cheese, one sunday and one today. Today’s was far better. Here’s what I did this evening.
One Cup of Canned Milk
1/2 cup of water
1 cup of diced colby cheese with a few slices of American cheese
1 1/2 T butter
1 1/2 soft bread slices, cubed
2 T diced onion
2 T diced celery
1/2 t. salt
dash pepper (fresh-ground)
2 beaten eggs
2 C. of macarooni, (whole wheat!) cooked (this means I measured 2 Cups DRY and then cooked it.)
In a saucepan, combine milk, water, cheese, butter, bring to a boil stirring constanly. When cheese melts, remove from heat. Stir in bread cubes, onion, salt, pepper. Fold in eggs and macarooni and stir the whole mess until it’s goosh. Spoon into a greased baking dish, bake at 350 for 30 minutes, then forget it’s in the oven for 15 minutes after that, then yank it out.
I did change the proportions up a little from Sunday, but I think the difference was the dish. I had used a comparatively shallow baking dish Sunday. Today I used a deeper one. That seemed to make for more yummy. I might next time consider baking the thing covered, though some might consider that blasphemy. But I am trying to work with whole wheat elbows here, which will crunch up more in baking. I think a cover might be a good thing. I would also consider a more interesting cheese, like a sharp cheddar, than colby, for, yes, yowsa. Otherwise, this basic recipe is very good.
I have recently decided that it’s time I grew up and learned how to cook a decent pot roast. So I got me a nice roasting meat, 1.5 pounds of shoulder something something. And today was d-day. I used this recipe I found on the Internet (below). I started it in the Crock at about 2 p.m. I threw in the carrots, onions, celery, and potatoes at about 7 p.m. I sat down to eat at 10 p.m.
My gods. I can make pot roast. Not that that’s any big thing. But it was perfect. Cuttable with the side of your fork. Damn. Fucking damn. And it wasn’t all just water in there. I threw in some broth after a few hours just for good measure. And some garlic.
Food coma.
Ingredients
1 beef roast, any kind
1 (1 1/4 ounce) package dried brown gravy mix
1 (1 1/4 ounce) package dried Italian salad dressing mix
1 (1 1/4 ounce) package dried ranch dressing mix
1/2 cup water
Directions
1Place beef roast in crock pot.
2Mix the dried mixes together in a bowl and sprinkle over the roast.
3Pour the water around the roast.
4Cook on low for 7-9 hours.
I am Googling this morning, nearly this afternoon now, Googling “mower belching white smoke.” Because my mower was belching white smoke. Probably because I over-oiled it.
However, the problem presented itself at exactly the right time. As I was stuffing my lawn mower full of oil, apparently ill-advisedly, I noticed some well-dressed people walking through my neighborhood knocking on doors. I girded. I knew what was coming.
Just as they began to descend on my house, I was in the side yard starting my mowing, and it was just then that the mower came across the indigestion-causing excess of oil and belched plumes of white smoke, which wafted directly into the half-dozen or so people in their Sunday best. One of them coughed.
“Hi, sir,” said an older, short white guy dressed in a snazzy monkey suit. “Having some trouble there? Heh-heh.”
“Nope! No problem.” I shot back. “In fact, I’m kind of excited. My lawnmower just elected a new Pope!”
He laughed politely, sort of. Then: “Is there anyone else at the house?”
“No, just me.” What, I look like the garden boy? Or perhaps he was lookin’ for the Lady of the House?
“My name’s Assclown*, and I’m with Jehovah’s Witnesses,” he said. “May we have a few moments of your time to share the Bible with you today?”
“No, thanks.”
“Are you sure? We just want to share the—”
“Sir, do you see the sign in my yard?” I asked. “The green one? The one that says ‘Impeach Him?'”
“Yes,” he said.
“Do you simply assume I mean that sign to refer to the President of the Untied States?”
He sighed and knew he was going to get nowhere because I was about to suggest that I would like to impeach Jesus H. Christ for high crimes and misdemeanors. (Which is not actually accurate. I actually think that Jesus had a lot of wonderful things to say but that American Christianity® eschews the turn-the-other-cheek crap and prefers the kung-fu-grip-Jesus honed and harnessed by the BNAL (Bush Nation At-Large).) He asked if he could leave some materials for me to review later, and I offered him another terse “no thanks” and a “have a nice day” and went back to killing the environment with my lawn mower.
I do not for the life of me understand or value the mindset that perceives that all that guy mowing his ass off on the sabbath needs is a little Bible reading from Witness Assclown and that’ll turn him around and put him on the Jesus train for good. I am a Bright, born and reared and confirmed in adulthood. I have reached this location not by negligence or sloth, but by considered, sometimes tortured study, thought, and work. I’ve read much of the Bible. I’ve been to church, many different flavors of churches, from Uni-Uni to Catholic to Christian Scientist to Jewish temple. Heck. I’ve even cast a circle or two (in fact, I think some of the present-day pagans, the Earth and Moon worshippers, are closer to truth than anyone). It offends me that this assclown thinks that his reading of Job or Leviticus or whatever is going to make me turn my back on the way I’ve come to understand and to believe in the universe in all of my 39 years.
Besides. Of all the practitioners of American Christianity®, these folks might be the mostest fullest of the mostest shit ever. One of its founders predicted the return of Jesus Christ to Earth in 1873. When that didn’t happen, he said, well, 1874, maybe. When that didn’t happen, he declared that an invisible Jesus had actually reascended (or descended, I’m not sure which) to Earth. So, guess what. The Witnesses. They believe in “Sneaky Jesus.”
And, yes, some of the conversation I’ve shared here occurred in my head afterward and not really actually. I wish.
Editor’s Note: Muxtape is no longer a going concern. I have removed the link in its reference. ~ABP
Alas.
It’s not that I didn’t really love the Ska Nooner. I did. It was fun. But I’ve found that using the scheduler tool just doesn’t allow me to be nimble enough in programming this thing. Pretty soon it’s noon rolling around and I haven’t done anything with the ska show, and then it’s the same old crappy songs again. A plain shuffle allows me to really mix it up.
Speaking of mixing it up: New muxtape. I’ve been scouring the eMusic to run out my end-of-month, and I stuck a few gems from that search onto the Mux. I like this one. (11/12 can be found on eMusic.)
I was reading the Wiki entry for Ween and came across this awesome story. You’ve probably heard it already. But it’s new to me.
Once upon a time, an advertising agency wanted a new hip jingle for a new product from Pizza Hut that tucked cheese into the outer crust of the pizza. They looked to Mr. Freeman Mr. Melchiondo of Ween to do the job. The boys came up with what is in the following YouTube video as part one.
Pizza Hut passed, or, as the Wiki put it, “It epitomized Ween-style irreverence but did not appeal to the agency, and Pizza Hut rejected several versions of the song outright.” So the boys went back to the drawing board (part two).
I listened to Flogging Molly’s Swagger on the commute today. I know this is an eight-year-old album. But it’s new to me. And I am enamored. It has been a while since a piece of music has grabbed me like this band. I think it appeals to my born-fightin’ heart or to having seen Once, which everyone should see because it is lovely. Regardless. I really really like this band.
Hat tip to Fast ‘n’ Bulbous, useful smart music reviews. True, any “best artists of the oughts” list that does not include Marnie Stern is missing the boat, but these folks generally do a pretty good job.
By the way: Check out Weird Al interviewed in today’s Washington Post Express. The interview, purportedly conducted via e-mail, is virtually unintelligible, it’s true. But he does say this:
Along with all the satires and dis tracks, the curly-haired bandleader and accomplished accordionist has also recorded at least one homage the nine-minute-long “Genius in France,” a dis track that was aimed at an entire nation, “was really a labor of love,” he writes. “I’m a big [Frank] Zappa fan, and I wanted to do it right.”
Yankovic’s songwriting method was appropriately nerdy: “I started by going through Frank’s catalog, focusing on the early ’70s listening carefully and making notes about every little lyrical or musical nuance that seemed uniquely Zappa.”
Interesting since Zappa’s native influences ’50s bubblegum r&b and Yankovic’s well, polka are so very different. But Yankovic is clearly a “does humor belong in music” kind of guy.
For you youngsters, no this is not a sendup of INXS.
You always hear the punchline, but you never hear the entire joke. Here it is.
Little Johnnie’s teacher asks him how his weekend was. “Horribly,†says Little Johnnie. “A car hit my dog in the ass.†She corrects him: “Rectum.†“Wrecked him?†Johnnie says. “Damn near killed him!â€
Kind of a letdown.
Now. Where to start. First let me state that The Howard Stern Show on Monday is going to be amazing. Rush and Molloy are reporting that Lange’s entourage came under some REAL sniper fire (not that phony Hillary Clinton bullshit sniper fire) in Kandahar after the show. Everyone’s okay. But I’ll have my ears glued to the show Monday. The stories are going to be amazing.
I traversed with my Uncle Hat to Mendon New York last weekend to visit DOD to wish him a happy 60th birthday, which means I went up there to eat good food and to drink excellent wine and to spend a few days on a big fat beautiful farm and to eat eggs right out of the chicken. I have a little brother who at 12 is nearly as tall as I and whose voice is now deeper than mine. And I am confounded regarding his strangely discriminating taste in music. For him, if it’s not machine gun guitars, it sucks. He actually said, and I’m paraphrasing, that the only band in the world capable of blending reggae and hard-core in any meaningful way is called “skindred.†I laughed my fool head off. Ska-core is one of my core areas of my practice as an amateur musicologist. I lurve ska-core and I have the mosh pit scars to prove it. And, I’m sorry, but this “skindred†sucks big donkey balls. The Mighty Mighty Mighty Mighty Mighty Mighty Bosstones have nothing to worry about, nosirreebob. I for one always grew up with a broad base of musical appreciation, and the kid, he was jamming to the Jumpstarts at age 2. I just think there’s nothing like being able to sing along to both Iggy Pop and the Carmina Burana is all. Music is enormous. It’s bigger than the world. Feeding on nothing but Iced Earth and RATM forever is starving oneself, especially in a world in which Duke Ellington once thrived.
Which brings me to Ithaca. I finally got to see it. We went there for lunch on our way to Pennsyltucky to buy post-July 4 fireworks. It’s all right. It’s no Athens Georgia, no Chapel Hill, but it’s no Athens Ohio either. It has a surprising amount of Jesus and is weirdly in a valley. I would like to go back when I have more time to walk around that little college town. We stopped in a music store and I bought a local CD, which I think is simply the proper thing to do when one visits a college town with a music scene. Boy With A Fish may crop up on the B.O.N.K. at some point.
I just have to say, I do not understand why you people insist on overcrowding subway cars. Another one will be along in five minutes or less. And it will be a better ride that will not leave you staring into the guy’s armpit.
I am still trying to master programming at the B.O.N.K. It is a difficult balance to achieve. I enjoy creating playlists. I was at one time the master of the Ironic Segue Mix Tape (ISMiT). So I like to make the playlists and to put The Crew Cuts on right after AC/DC. But one can’t spend every waking hour programming one’s anti-profit Internet radio station. So you also want a prolific abundance of songs to place in a shuffle rotation as a default. But then there’s no mastery at work and you sound like any other of these wonderful Live365 stations. So I am working out the balance. Please bear with me, all of you, he said into mid-air at nobody and nothing in particular.
My latest musical fascination is with the Celtic Kickass band called Flogging Molly. It took me awhile. But I do like Celtic-tinged music though I steer clear of the weird tendency of the genre to wander into new-age bullshit. But pub rock is good, and I think FM is the best of them.
I’ve not previously lived with a pooch who chronically whimpers. Lucy Liu (Yes, I have remonikered Kahlua. I can’t help it. It is what I do.) But she does, she whimpers chronically, even now that she’s apparently feeling more at home. It is her only vice. She doesn’t smoke dope or poop inside. She has a whimpering problem. But she makes up for it in that she is a sideways tongue doggie (a term I do not have to define for dog luvvers but that I must credit to my woman, who coined the term among many regarding doggies, including “Frito paws,” “sideways tongue,” and “crunching,” which is more difficult to explain.)
I have discovered an amazing thing at Live365. They maintain a robust library of tracks that you can “sideload,” or place into your track listing, as part of your regular fee and, more important, without affecting your memory limit (mine is the lowest, 200MB). I had assumed that one’s choices in this list would be among Pat Boone, Barry Manilow, and that kid down the street with a guitar and a four-track. Actually, the selection is deep. I’ve found Led Zeppelin, Jimi, Fleetwood Mac, R.E.M., quite a healthy variety. This is a most useful feature, as it allows me to generously expand my default shuffle playlist and gives me more to work with in programming directly. Not to mention that it is yet another avenue one can use to explore artists on the verge, which is one reason I was interested in maintaining an Internet station. I have added a few emerging artists to the mix.
I’ve not previously lived with a pooch who chronically whimpers. Lucy Liu (Yes, I have remonikered Kahlua. I can’t help it. It is what I do.) But she does, she whimpers chronically, even now that she’s apparently feeling more at home. It is her only vice. She doesn’t smoke dope or poop inside. She has a whimpering problem. But she makes up for it in that she is a sideways tongue doggie (a term I do not have to define for dog luvvers but that I must credit to my woman, who coined the term among many regarding doggies, including “Frito paws,” “sideways tongue,” and “crunching,” which is more difficult to explain.)