The Wars of The Rose(bud)s

I drink a lot of water at work, so there are several trips a day to the restroom to take care of the consequences of drinking a lot of water. Rarely, the other urge will arise, and for that, I forsake the restroom on the same floor as my office, as that restroom has a lot of traffic coming in and out. For me, the #2 is a sacred time for personal thought and reflection, and while at home, reading. I have also been known to go into the restroom with a handheld gaming device, as it is mentally difficult to pass the time without being engaged in some sort of activity. It is akin to trying to run a marathon without any music playing in some headphones.

I shudder when I think about why the buttons are sticky.

Be it known that I do not often drop the deuce at work. I consider myself to be very regular and I take pride in the fact that I do it once in the morning and once at night. It is almost like clockwork. However, there are rare times where I will get the call in the middle of the day. Today was one of those days.

Dr. Who just ended. Time to get that out of my system.

As I mentioned before, I avoid the Times Square-like environment of the main floor restroom when I get the brown fever. For heavy projects like these, I seek the quiet solitude of the restroom on the second floor of my building. It is less-harshly lit, less frequented, and as a result, much cleaner than its downstairs counterpart. It is a place where a man can squat and really get some hard thinking done. As the urge hit me today, I looked forward to my appointment with poignant introspection. I settled down on my throne as king of the kingdom of taupe walls, beige tiles, and methane gas.

As I began, my phone began to vibrate. It was a call from my wife. I am not above answering a phone call on the john, so I answered. My wife was wondering if she could come by for a visit, as she was going to be in the area. I of course told her that it was not a good time, as I was otherwise engaged, and she understood. Before our conversation ended, however, the worst possible thing that could happen happened.

I heard the squeak of the door opening, than footsteps. While I am not above talking on the phone while pooping, I do not want strangers eavesdropping on my calls. The conversation with my wife ended with me quietly grunting in assent and whispering "I love you too." I quickly hung up, and placed my ceremonies on hold expecting this guy to quickly make use of the urinal and leave.

I was disappointed, however, when this gentleman walked into the stall next to mine and started making pumpernickel loaves right next to me! My reflection time was horribly violated by this johnny-come-lately. What could I do to salvage my experience that had been compromised by the unfortunate development?

I knew the solution right away. I earlier equated bowel movements to marathon running. If that is the case, than I am the skeletal Nigerian of poopers. I pull of miraculous sessions that can run in excess of an hour given proper preparation (books, magazines, Tetris, etc.). All I needed to do was outlast this joker and the kingdom would be mine again as it was before this usurper decided to come in and mess things up.

Unfortunately, this was not meant to be. I was sitting next to the Magnus Ver Magnusson of poopers. This guy was refusing to budge.

Somehow I related my bowel movements to Strongman Competitions. How does this always happen?

Having been defeated in the my fecal siege, I left the restroom an emotionally broken man. I quietly wiped and quickly washed my hands and left the restroom, taking care to leave before my opponent finished, for I was ashamed to see him face to face. I have lost all confidence in my abilities as a world class turd master. I tender my resignation immediately from the competitive pooping circuit, and I will turn toward violent purging to avoid pooping in the future.

Is This My Subconscious?

My job causes a lot of different emotions in me. At times, my job calls for me to do some hard investigation, which I enjoy. I love peeling back the layers to find solutions to problems that pop up. I also get to work with lots of enjoyable people that are genuinely nice, honest folks. On the downside, I work with some of the most dishonest people to walk the earth. People that would sell their children just to make a buck. Having said that, at times I am elated at work, and other times I wish I was dead. Recently, I had an experience that summed up "one of those days."

As I sat at my desk, I noticed on one of my many notepads a certain word scrawled out (Warning: profanity)

Who wrote this? Why? I thought I was well-liked in the office. I'm not one to use profanity, plus my print is in all caps. I confusedly looked at it for a good minute or two trying to figure out the origin of what I now call "The Mystery Sh*%."

Later on, I had the fortune of tipping the notepad over, and this is what I saw:

Apparently when I write 7:45, when turned upside down it looks like sh*%.

Why?!?!?!

Somebody DECIMATED the men's restroom at my office. It was absolutely unbearable. It smelled like Bigfoot ate a can of spicy chili and began to rip wet meatfarts in a sauna. Atrocious.

A Favorite...

I found this gem of a site. It is absolutely wonderful. Check it out and be prepared to wast hours reading. It's updated daily, too.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you Toothpaste For Dinner

Saaaaweeeeeet!!

I haven't written on this thing for a long time. I was reminded of this little blog due to a conversation I had with a few of my valued co-workers. I appreciate the reminder to add some posts, and I hope you check back often, as I have a renewed resolution to post. I'm thinking I'll move away from the long posts and use this as a hub to share with readers (all 1 of me) some of the things that interest/please/anger me. Worry not, you have not read the last of my long rants. Having said that, let's get this going:

I pray every night that I can someday be able to make threats half this beautiful.

New Post!!! Dreams!!!

I guess I should explain why I haven't written anything in awhile. Soon after my last post, I got a phone call from my dear mother, who had only recently read my blog. She didn't like it. She launched into a slew of issues she had with my blog, mainly how if someone read my blog and didn't know me, they would immediately think I was crazy. I don't exactly know how that could by a bad thing, but I suppose I must pursue things in the professional world someday, and I see the logic in her argument. After my discussion with Mom, I realized that this whole event had completely killed any creative thought in my mind. I needed to step away for awhile and figure out how I could do this and please Mom.

Luckily, my answer came in the form of a crazy dream I had last night! I normally don't remember my dreams, but for whatever reason, this one stayed in my head after I woke up so I wrote it down during my morning bathroom ritual. Never had a bowel movement been so satisfying. I present to you my nutty football dream.

I was at an NFL football game. A home game for the Tennessee Titans. Not to strange, so far, until I noticed who the Titans were playing. The Rams. The Los Angeles Rams. Kind of weird. The Rams haven't been in LA since 1994.

You must admit the uniforms were pretty sweet.

My dream quickly informed my who I was cheering for, as I looked down and noticed that I was wearing an L.A. Rams t-shirt. My pa-in-law, sis-in-law, and wife were all at the game with me, but I noticed that they were all wearing Titans gear. I was a lone fan in this massive stadium, the lone fan of a team that technically no longer exists.

After a few plays, the Titans find themselves on their own 2 yard line on 4th down. They decide to punt, but first they took a timeout. During the timeout, my phone vibrated, and I looked to see who was sending me a text. It was from my brother. I can't recall what he was texting me about, but as I responded to his message I wandered a little too close to the backline of the endzone that Tennessee was kicking out of. As I looked down at my phone, I see a flash of yellow out of the corner of my eye and I hear a whistle blow. The ref was calling a penalty. The ref gives me a dirty look, marches out to the middle of the field, turns on his microphone, and says, "A safety will be charged against the Titans..." he then points directly at me and continues, "because this JERK stood in front of me...ON HIS CELL PHONE!!!"

Now I know how Calvin Johnson feels.

I looked up and saw my ugly mug all over the big screens on both sides of the stadium. The boos and jeers were deafening. The ref seemed a bit distracted as he looked up at the press booth and said in an annoyed tone, "DANGIT TRENT DILFER, I'M THE REFEREE AND I CAN CALL WHATEVER I WANT!!" I looked up at the press booth and saw the former quarterback scowl back down at the ref. I don't know how this underachieving QB made it into my dream. All I know is that his presence makes me wonder if it in fact a nightmare I was having.

I wasn't even looking for a Trent Dilfer pic! This was the first

thing that came up when I typed "Clint Howard" in an image search.

This was the only appearance of Mr. Dilfer in my dream, unfortunately. I was hoping for some revelation as to how on earth this man won a Super Bowl.

I made my way to my family thoroughly embarrassed by the events that had occurred. As the booing continued, there was one strain of mocking that stood out from the others. It was a middle-aged woman with blonde hair screaming insults at me.

It's as if someone took a poloroid from inside my brain.

I absorbed the insults like any civilized human being would do, as I was taught that words shall not ever hurt me. However, the crazy lady decided to up the ante a bit and she threw a half empty water bottle at me. The bottle landed harmlessly on the ground a good few feet before it reached me, but that's not the point. People just can't go around throwing half empty plastic vessels at people they don't like. It's what separates us from the animals. I was infuriated that she would actually do something like that. I marched right up to her and put my face really close to hers. I looked her in the eye, then unleashed upon her the filthiest string on expletives that I could muster. It was pretty bad. I can't even begin to hint at the things I said to this woman, as this is a family blog. It made The Jersey Shore sound like Teletubbies with more annoying accents. Needless to say, she didn't appreciate my speculations as to what she did during her private time, so she began to slap at me. Not punches or backhands or anything dramatic like that. They were those little slaps that toddlers hit each other with. This only angered me more, so I did what any other person would do if a Ke$ha look-alike was attacking them and I kicked her in the stomach. That shut her up.

As I walked back to my family I felt a wee touch of guilt in my soul. I was really worried that my father-in-law had heard me say and do those awful things. I was worried that he would disapprove of my actions and as a result, disapprove of my marriage to his daughter. Before I could see his reaction, my wife got into my face and gave me a stern talking to. "HOW COULD YOU DO SOMETHING LIKE THAT!? THAT WAS TERRIBLE!! YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED!!" Truth is, I was a bit ashamed. However, that shame was short lived as my father-in-law came to the rescue. He looked at my wife and said, "You saw what happened. That woman threw a water bottle at him. She deserved it."

The last thing I remember from the dream are the sweet feelings of calm and acceptance.

Do I endorse kicking women in the stomach? Of course not. You can calm down now, Mom.

Things I Have Learned (Recently) Pt. 2.

When I first decided to write about things I've learned about (recently), I didn't really have a set number for what I was going to write about. So here are a few more things I've learned...recently.

3. My Wife Keeps On (and Will Keep On) Surprising Me

Marie is a wonderful woman. When we were dating, I was drawn in by how much of an all around good person she is. She loves musicals, loves to hike, and takes care of infants for a living. Because of this I was shocked one day when I was watching Superbad on FX and she comes in the room, sits down, and starts watching it with me. Remember, this was on FX, so the language in this movie was heavily edited, but I was watching it because there's a lot of other things in the movie that make me laugh. She started watching w me during a certain scene, which I'm not going to describe with my words. I'll let this picture do the talking for me:

I happen find this particular situation in the movie to absolutely hysterical. However, with my pure, innocent wife sitting next to me, I sat in silence, expecting to be reprimanded for watching such off-color things. In no way could I expect what happened next...she was laughing. She actually thought it was funny. I was shocked. She even started asking me questions about the plot of the movie like she was genuinely interested. I felt I had walked into the bizarro-world. To add to my surprise, one of her favorite shows these days are re-runs of Curb Your Enthusiasm, she enjoyed Season 1 of Dexter, she thought Pootie Tang was hilarious, and she LOVED Iron Man 2. I don't know whether to be turned on for liking all of this awesome stuff or to feel guilty for soiling her pristine mind with my filth.

4. The Rapid Decline of Our Youth, Though Depressing, Is Only Good for Me in the Long Run

A little while ago I wrote a post about emo kids. Oh how I hate them. But why should I let hate dominate my life? I figured I should look at things in a more positive light. I figured I should try and find good things in a crappy situations. As I make my way to work everyday, I look at things that are happening all around me. Since it is summertime, I notice a lot of teenagers walking around the streets enjoying their break from school. I also notice that most kids look the same. If they don't dress a certain way, then they dress another way, and so forth. Allow me to illustrate.
If you are a teenager, you probably look like this:
And if you don't look like that, then you probably look like this:
If that isn't your style, you perhaps look like this:
And if none of the above apply, you look like this:

Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you your future of America. Sure, these kids look like they come from different backgrounds and situations, but they all have one thing in common: I want to punch each of them in face. I realize that it looks pretty bleak, but there is nothing to fear! Whenever I see these morons, it fills me with a sense of comfort and optimism! Why? Because the wasted potential of these retards will only make my boringly average self look like a genius! So keep doing what you're doing, teenagers. Your self-handicaps will only benefit me in the end. Justice does exist in the universe.

I think I should end this now on a positive note. I always feel pretty good about life after I think about how sad kids are these days. If you read this, you might want to check back on Friday, as I am going to have some pretty big news for you all to see. Stay tuned.

Things I Have Learned (Recently).

It truly has been a long time since I've written on here. No doubt all three of you have been on the edge of your seats, biting your fingernails to the bleeding quick in anticipation for my next post. Quite a few things have changed in the time that has elapsed between then and now, and the past few months have taught me a lot. So, this post is dedicated to the things I have learned since the last time I wrote a post for this here blog.

1. I look good.

Back in December, I took a long, hard look at myself and decided to make some changes. I'm not one to have New Year's resolutions, but when you work up a sweat from getting in and out of your car in the middle of a Utah winter, I made an exception to my rule and set a goal to lose some weight.
This is me last Thanksgiving engaging in one of my favorite physical activities. Some people jog, others climb rocks, I tried to see how much food I could shove down my gaping maw in a meal. The plus size...er...side to all this is that I was never hungry. The down side was that my physical appearance reduced my love life to smelling Marie's hair while she was asleep. In January, I dusted off the gym pass and began working out every day before class. I also started walking to UVU, which makes perfect sense because it takes about as much time for me to walk there as it does to drive (not only was I morbidly obese, I was also incredibly lazy). After a few months of hitting the elliptical, I started lifting weights, too. I gave up sugar on every day of the week except Sunday and began what people call "portion control" (see: borderline self-starvation). As a result, that shirt with the bursting buttons you see in the pic up there actually fits me now, and I was finally able to return all those bras Marie was letting me borrow.

This is a picture of me 40 lbs. later and on a hike up Squaw Peak in Provo. I wasn't exactly sure what a hike was up until this picture was taken. When Marie approached me and suggested that we go on a hike, I thought she was challenging me to some Madden on my PS3. I think my expression sums up how I felt when I found out what she really meant.
I love it when people ask me how I lost the weight. I could tell them the truth and say that it is as simple as exercising and listening to your body, but that would be too easy. I tell them that I throw up after every time I eat or I simply say, "cocaine is a heck of a drug." That last one doesn't seem to go over very well with the church crowd.

2. Working At In-N-Out Is Not As Fun As Advertised

I had the opportunity to open a new In-N-Out Burger in Orem last November. I gave up my job as a manager at Los Hermanos to do so. I wish I could say that I didn't regret it, but I did. There were a few things that bothered me about working at In-N-Out, and I will summarize them to give you an idea of what it was like for me. First and foremost, people take their job way too seriously there. It may have the best reputation in the nation in the category of fast food joints, but what a few of the people there failed to recognize is that a fast food joint is still just a fast food joint. A good example of this would be their order inputting system. There are several ways you can enter a burger into the computer and still have it come out the way the customer wants it. The cooks, however, only want it done a certain way. I entered an order for a burger and it wasn't to the cook's liking. He came up to my register and informed me that I did it wrong. I try to be a good co-worker, so I apologized, he said it was okay and we both went back to work. A little later, I made a similar "mistake." The cook came up again, grabbed my shoulder and told me to turn around. I didn't immediately do so, as I was taking an order for another customer at the moment. My attention paid to the customer and not the cook seemed to upset him (his burger-flipping time must be extremely important). When I was done I turned around to see what he needed. With a restaurant full of people waiting to make an order he stands on his toes to be at eye level, holds the ticket with my "incorrect" order on it in my face and says through clenched teeth, "That's strike two, bro."

Really?

Sir, I know In-N-Out pays you decent money to flip a burger. The burger is the business. However, you're wearing a paper sailor hat and kind of look like a gay elf. What do you think gives you the right to get in my face and snarl threats at me like you're a Colombian drug lord in a direct-to-VHS Steven Seagal movie?

The fun doesn't end there. Another thing that drove me nuts about that place was the sheer stupidity of the customers. Every shift, after a big rush, there would be quite a few dirty tables that needed to be wiped off and sanitized. Imagine for a moment this all too common scenario: You are out to eat with some friends. You have 4 booths in the burger joint, and all of them are dirty. There's nobody else in the restaurant but yourself and your friends. There comes along a worker and he looks like he's about to wipe off some of the booths. What do you do?
A. Wait 15 seconds and let the worker sanitize the table to give you a clean eating space
or
B. Go ahead and sit down at a booth covered in so much ketchup it looks like a murder scene.
Too many of those morons chose option B. Have some patience, people.
Speaking of stupid customers, they ruin everything. One night Danny Glover came in and just wanted to get a burger. He placed his order and stood waiting for it to come out. Some moronic BYU student noticed that it was really Danny Glover and all of a sudden he was mobbed by Napoleon Dynamite-quoting retards grabbing a bite to eat after their 80's dancing. I normally have a hard time with empathy, but I truly felt sorry for Danny Glover when he had to go wait in his car for his food because too many people were bothering him for pictures. Those insensitive jerks. I hate BYU students. Poor Danny Glover.
Not that everything at In-N-Out was bad. The managers there were pretty awesome, for the most part. I also got to meet some pretty nice and cool people there. Basically, if you worked at In-N-Out and are reading this now, then you are one of the cool ones.

I am out of time for the moment. I am going to continue sharing things I have learned with you at a later date. I will be in touch.

Hippies and Emos: The Wheel of Stupidity Continues To Turn

I am far from perfect. I make a lot of mistakes. Just ask my wife, or my mom, or my friends, or my employers. But despite my many, many, many shortcomings, I am not a complete failure-- at least not like this:


Where to start? The hairdo? The piercings? The fact that I can't tell if this thing is a boy or a girl? Honestly, there are so many things wrong with this picture that it's overwhelming to a simple mind like my own. Although I have a difficult time organizing my thoughts and articulating my disgust of the fact that there are so many people like this, I do understand why I was lucky enough to not end up in a similar situation and I by my experience I know how you can keep this from happening to your own children.

First off, in order to solve any problem, we need to understand the source of the problem:


That's right. It's your fault, Hippies. And in more ways than one.

Now you may be asking yourself, "But Professor Brandon, how did life loving, color worshiping hippies beget death obsessed, monochromatic emo kids?"

First, Dear Reader, stop calling me Professor. The last thing my already bloated ego needs is the use of such exalted titles to describe my vast intelligence.

Now, allow me to show you the connections between the emo kids and their hippie forerunners. The main connection is that both groups are notorious complainers. Hippies are well-known for their near incessant complaining. They hated war, so they complained about it. They hated getting mace sprayed in their eyes every time they had an illegal protest, so they complained about it (they should have filed for the necessary permits). "Squares" were too intelligent to understand the hippie movement, so they complained about it. Hippie women hated bras, so they complained about them and burned them.

Emo kids, on a similar note, hate getting made fun of everywhere they go, so they complain about it. They claim their parents don't understand them, so they complain about it. Emo girls hate bras, so they make their "boy"friends wear them (okay, this one is pure conjecture. I just can't tell the difference between emo boys and emo girls).

Neither of the groups understand the purpose nor function of clothing. I'll give the hippies a little bit of credit for this one. Their only problem was that they preferred not to wear very much.


This mode of thinking carried its own benefits and risks. If it was an attractive hippie, than not too shabby. However if it was an unattractive hippie or a male hippie (99.8% of the hippie population), then we have issues.

The clothing-related problems of the emos is a slightly different beast. Emos also get some bonus points because they keep their pasty, androgynous bodies well covered most of the time. They do not, however, have any sense of what clothes are for. They know that clothes are made of material. They know that we are supposed to actually wear clothes. But they get confused on the finer points of the purpose of certain articles of clothing. Lets look for a moment at a glove. I wear gloves for several reasons. I wear a latex glove when I clean a bathroom to protect me from bacteria. I wear a glove when its cold outside to keep my hands warm. I wear a glove when I go to bed at night after I put lotion on to keep my hands nice and moisturized. These are practical uses.

The question I pose the emos is what the crap am I supposed to use this thing for.


It's fingerless, so it can't keep my hands warm. The high cut on the palm of the hand would mess up my grip on such things as my steering wheel, my PS3 controller, and push-pops. Completely worthless.

Hippies, unfortunately, caused a change because of their radical views. Luckily, everything they wanted came to pass, but America still bears the scars of their mercifully short-lived hippie revolution. One of the biggest hippie beliefs that led to this gross emo outbreak is to let your kids do anything they want without being held accountable for their actions. Think about it. Emo kids exist solely because parents, siblings, and friends suffer from the residual hippie belief that these kids are simply "finding their way" and should not be corrected. What a load of crap. Parents need to show some backbone and not be afraid to point out their kid is full of it. Which is more loving, correcting your children so they can lead successful, happy, lives or allowing them to be mocked and wallow in self-loathing just so they can "be themselves?" My mom wouldn't hesitate a second to call me on my bullcrap, and I am a better person because of it. My older brothers weren't afraid to beat me up to keep me from doing anything that would hurt me in the long run, and my friends enjoyed helping them. The crazy thing (to hippies) about it is that I am grateful for that. I made me stronger, it made me smarter.

So, Emos, this is an intervention! Take the initiative and break away from your sorry ways. It shouldn't be too hard. Nobody likes you. You don't even like yourself. Wear some colors. Take off the makeup. Get a haircut. And for goodness' sake, wear some gosh dang pants that actually fit you.

In closing, my friends, I give you this to ponder:

Quickly...

The Vikes were robbed. I've seen crappy calls in football games before, but never ones in a high-profile game like the NFC Championship. The victory goes to the Saints, unfortunately, but the game belongs in the deserving hands of the Vikings. I guess there is a silver lining, however, because I look forward to the complete dismantling of the Saints at the hands of the Colts.

The Best Songs You Haven't Listened to for the Past 10 Years or So.

Nobody realizes more than I do that I have not posted in quite awhile. I blame it on school and my new job at In-N-Out Burger. Things have been busy, to say the least. My last post was rather polarizing, as far as reactions went. Some people agreed with me, others called for my head. Since there was quite a bit of negativity swirling around my last couple of posts, I decided to make this a post focusing on the positive. Also, with it being the season of giving, I decided to give you all the gift of GOOD music. Sure, some of you may have no need of this gift, but then there are others of you who desperately need the gift I offer. Though the songs I picked span several genres, they all have 2 things in common: 1. They were all made in the 90's, and 2. They all are better than most of the crap you have on your iPod right now. So please enjoy, and Merry Christmas!

Spacehog
In the Meantime-1996

This is the type of song that pulls you in from the very beginning. It starts out simple, then quickly builds itself up to a rock odyssey that will leave you breathless and begging for more. Not to mention Royston Langdon is Rock personified. Its stuff like this that makes the 90's relevant.

The Wallflowers
The Difference-1996

I have no idea why, but this was the only version of the song Youtube had of The Difference. This live performance doesn't do the album recording any justice at all, as the album recording is one of the best songs that the 1990's produced. This song is far better than the most popular Wallflowers song "One Headlight" on the album Bringing Down the Horse. I know in my last post I blasted Bob Dylan and I am aware that the Wallflowers' front man is Bob's son, Dylan. I bet that makes me sound like a hypocrite. Well, I'm not. Jakob is not Bob, as Jakob actually displays a little talent in his musical abilities. Just because the father is crap doesn't mean the sons are crap too. Are Saddam Hussein's sons complete sadistic monsters too?...bad example.

Tupac feat. Dr. Dre
California Love-1995

Hip Hop at its finest. Not only is the Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome theme totally awesome, but this music video has appearances by both George Clinton and Chris Tucker. The music is easily better than anything the Hip Hop community has produced in the last five years, and the pairing of Tupac with Dr. Dre is like sitting at a lunch table with the Dalai Lama and the Pope. Except instead of teaching their religions they rap. And they both really love the state of California.

Live
I Alone-1994

This song was a tough pick for me to include on this list because there are just so many good songs on this album. With "I Alone," "All Over You," and "Lightning Crashes," Throwing Copper is one of those rare albums that can be listened to from start to finish and you will love every single song. Live also has awesome songs like "Dolphin's Cry" and "Lakini's Juice" on other albums. Plus the video made white guys awkwardly dancing cool before Coldplay did it with "Viva La Vida."

Jamiroquai
Virtual Insanity-1996

A great song backed by an even greater music video. You would be doing yourself a favor by checking out all the funk that Jamiroquai brings to the table. Its fast-paced and great music to dance to.

Toadies
Possum Kingdom-1994

I remember when I was a little kid, my Uncle John would pop the Toadies CD in the player of his Bronco II when he briefly lived in Utah in the mid-90's. I had no idea of the sinister theme of the song, I was too young to comprehend. All I knew was that the song rocked. Now, 15 or so years later, the song still rocks. Its just a tight, loud, energetic rock song that still is one of my favorites to this day.

Fastball
The Way-1998

This list just keeps getting better and better. Here's a fact: The director of the music video is McG, who later went on to direct the Terminator: Salvation movie. As you watch the video just remember that the same guy that directed these three white guys riding around in the back of a convertible also directed Christian Bale yelling at robots for 2 hours.

Primitive Radio Gods
Standing Outside a Broken Phone Booth with Money in My Hand-1996

With a name that long, you know that song has to be good, right? This song is great because it just sounds like a song from the 90's. I remember when this song first came out, I thought it was kind of boring, but now, I realize that its pretty good. Not to mention the fact that it appears in the best movie ever: The Cable Guy. That scored it at least a million bonus points.


Sting
Fields of Gold-1993

I saved the best for last. You didn't think that I would make a list of awesome things and NOT include something by Sting? My friend, you are mistaken. Sting is the epitome of awesome. So awesome, in fact, it took me 20 minutes of hardcore pondering just to decide on which Sting song to put here. It was a tough decision because all of his music is so perfect. So listen to this song again and again and again, and you too will be enlightened.

So that does it for now. I promise that my next post will have nothing to do with music. But in the meantime, listen to this stuff and stop supporting crappy things.

Overrated. Part 2.

It's high time I delivered part 2 of my list of overrated musicians. Do you agree? do you disagree? I'm all for discussion. If you have anything to say, feel free to do so. But lets stop wasting time and jump right into the list, shall we?

5. Weezer

Awesome.

Derivative and Lame.

Weezer was awesome. Way awesome. The songs on the Blue Album are still among my favorite songs of all time. So what happened? I can't say that they sold out, because their music was commercially geared in the first place. Their music didn't change much, their stuff sounds really similar to the stuff they made back in the mid-90's. So I ask again, what happened?
This,

and people like this

Both things have major issues. Let's start with Weezer front man Rivers Cuomo's appearance.
I'm not one to bash on glorious 'staches, in fact, to have a glorious 'stache is one of my life long ambitions, much to the dismay of my wonderful wife. A glorious 'stache turns an ordinary person into an extraordinary person. Without a glorious 'stache, you're just a regular guy hammering out a living working as a waiter at a rather hokey Mexican restaurant; but with a glorious 'stache, you've been on three African safaris, where all the hunting was done with your bare hands. Do you see the difference? The problem with Mr. Cuomo's 'stache is that it is more of a pretentious 'stache, and not so much a glorious 'stache. He grew it to give himself more appeal to the emo/indie/moron group, instead of growing it for glory. The cowboy hat just makes things worse. I can only think of a few instances where one should actually be wearing a real cowboy hat: 1. If you are an actual cowboy and 2. If your cowboy hat is covered in gold sequins and you are dressed as a gay cowboy for Halloween.

This is me doing right everything Rivers Cuomo does wrong.

Cuomo is neither of these things. He needs to stop trying so hard to make a statement with his fashion and just let the music do it.
Next comes the fans. I hope I don't offend you who consider yourselves Weezer fans, okay, honestly I don't care. You probably look like this kid above, and the only reason you listen to Weezer is to get with the dim college girls that think that they like Weezer because they don't know any better. Find something more useful to do than riding in the passenger seat of a Jetta some girl's dad bought her praying that she touches your leg on the way to the 80's dance. Be honest with yourselves and quit sucking.

4. Bob Dylan

'Nuff said.

3. Linkin Park

Oh man, bro! Linkin Park is soooooo cool, bro! Their music, like, totally blows my mind, bro! Hey, bro, can you hold my iPhone while I readjust my leather bracelet? Thanks bro! Hey, bro, check out some of the fan art I've done of my favorite band in the WHOLE WIDE WORLD, BRO!! WHOOOOOOO!
I'll start with my favorite: I love anime, bro! So I figured, why not draw my boys in an anime style? Most hardcore animation style for the MOST HARDCORE BAND EVER, BRO!!!

This next one represents my inner pain and turmoil and I HATE MY PARENTS, BRO!!! I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU DIDN'T LET ME GO TO THE SKATE PARK LAST SATURDAY!!! I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU!!

I like to imagine sometimes that the best band in the world has super powers, just like Neo in the Matrix, a.k.a. the BEST MOVIE EVER, BRO!!

This is a self portrait. I think I caught my hair perfectly in this picture. My 14-year old girlfriend told me it's the best drawing she's ever seen, bro.

Linkin Park fans are morons and know nothing about music.

2. Billy Joel
Please don't play us another song, Pianoman.

I can't for the life of me understand how this drunkard is more famous than I am. Well, I guess he does have two good songs over a career that spans over 40 years. Plus he ran his car into a house. I don't have the ability to get THAT drunk and stay conscious, so I guess he does have a few things over me.

1. Johnny Cash
Good heavens, that's an unattractive man.

Terrible, terrible, music. Just listen to this crap. He has a voice that makes me wish I was listening to Dylan and his lyrics make Papa Roach seem like Robert Frost. His music causes me to beg as my poor ears receive an audio assault comparable only to the sound cannon in The Incredible Hulk. A fitting first place finish for Johnny Trash as a musical abomination and as the most overrated musician of all time.

4th and 2

Man, I hate the Patriots. Why make that call? It couldn't happen to a nicer guy. Great job, Belichick.

Overrated.

I've actually been thinking about writing something about this for quite some time now, and now that I have this blog that a few people will read for no discernible reason, there's no time like the present.

So now, I present to you:

The Most Overrated Bands/Singers/Musicians of All Time #10-#6

Disclaimer: This is going to be a touchy subject for some of you, I know. It's important that I clarify that I don't necessarily hate these groups, or that they're music sucks, I just simply think that they get more love than they actually deserve. In my research (fancy term for asking Mark who he thought was overrated), names like Nickelback and Creed were placed before me as options for this list. I chose not to include them because those bands are simply terrible, and nobody actually likes them. They don't qualify for the "Overrated" title, but instead fall into the oversized bin labeled "Undoubtedly Crappy Yet Somehow Famous. Thanks a lot, Junior High." Without further ado, let's get this train wreck going.

10. Insane Clown Posse


Now, I know it seems like I'm already violating my Creed and Nickelback rule, and it's only the first entry on my list, but it turns out that the Insane Clown Posse (or ICP, to retarded people) has a legion of rabidly loyal fans, the majority of whom I assume live in trailer parks in mid-western states. Collectively, these hicks are known as the Juggalos (or if you are a 350 lb. teenage girl with an affinity for fishnet stockings: Juggalette) and they have a yearly concert that they have appropriately named "The Gathering of the Juggalos." I don't need to waste your or my time by explaining to you how mind-numbingly retarded the whole concept of Juggalos is or how mind-numbingly retarded it is that there is a band actually named Insane Clown Posse. Bonus retard points for my home state of Utah for actually classifying the Juggalos as a gang entity. So go ahead, take a second look at the picture of these Juggalos, then listen to an Insane Clown Posse song, and you'll know exactly why they sit at #10 on this list.

9. Jack Johnson, Ben Harper, or any other sleepy voiced guy that makes sleepy music


Nicknamed the “Galveston Giant”, Jack Johnson was an American boxer, the best heavyweight of his generation and the first black world heavyweight boxing champion (1908-1915). In a documentary about his life, Ken Burns notes, "For more than thirteen years, Jack Johnson was the most famous and the most notorious African-American on Earth."...
Stop glaring at me, kid with the hemp and sea shell necklace. What's that you're saying? Oh, sorry. I was supposed to talk about the SINGER Jack Johnson. Apparently, a guy who wrote the soundtrack for Curious George is more interesting than a pioneer in African-American athletics and who once was arrested for "transporting women across state lines for immoral purposes."
What was that, Hemp and Sea Shell Boy? You love Jack Johnson because his music is chill and represents your laid back life of playing hacky sack at the beach and surfing? Where were you from again? Orem? Yep.

8. 311

No picture for 311, because the actual sight of this band makes me feel nauseated. Here's a fun little factoid, when I did an image search for 311 logos, a lot of the logos had incorporated flames in them in some way. I don't think I need to say anything more about that.

7. The Beatles


A lot of people are going to hate me for this one; and before you start throwing darts through the picture of me you have hanging on your wall, I refer you to the disclaimer at the beginning of this post. The Beatles are not a bad band. They have an extensive collection of good, catchy songs and The Beatles: Rockband is an awesome game. The issue here is that there are many other bands out there that have simply made better, catchier songs than the Beatles. There are many other bands whose songs have greater emotional impact on the listener. There are many other bands that don't let drugs and crazy hippy Asian women ruin their previously perfect careers. They are overrated because their impact on the industry has been run down and trivialized, with their catalogue of songs only good now for video games and Aerosmith covers.

6. Bob Marley


Here is a picture that hangs on the walls of 75% of the apartments at Brigham Young University. I don't know if you knew this, but the overwhelming majority of BYU students are members of the LDS Church. Now, I am going to include a quote of Marley's: “Herb is the healing of a nation, alcohol is the destruction.”
He is about half right with that one. As to why BYU students love Bob Marley so much, I cannot explain. Why a group of people who claim to live a strict set of standards would openly support a lifestyle not endorsed by their moral code is beyond me. But I promised myself I wouldn't soapbox, so I'll stop before I get going.
I don't know if you have listened to a Bob Marley song lately, but his music has two distinct qualities shared within the genre of reggae music: 1. His lyrics make no sense, and 2. His songs are nearly indistinguishable one from another. Recipe for success, right? I guess so, because if you judge by that criteria, then Bob Marley is Lady GaGa's musical grandfather. Enjoy having that one on your conscience, Marley fans.

That does it for the first half. I'll get the second half up later so you all can be further educated.

I Give Up

I have a blog. I'm a sellout. Deal with it.