The Tweener

A Tweener Retrospective

2008-02-29T10:40:00.000-08:00

As a send-off, we present a Tweener best-of, divided by author:

Scott

Red Bull Art of the Can

In Honor of MLK Day, Five Movies About Black People as Told Through the Eyes of White Men

Welcome to Beyond.com

The Game

This Roach Infestation Kind of Reminds me of GangStarr, Parts 1 and two

The Tweener announces surrender to terrorism

No Offense, But...

Marijuana Bust: Ways of Combating the Anxiety High

Ryan

Dealers Where R U

CNN’s Guide to Covering the Iowa Caucuses

Amy

It's Valentine's Day...Leave me alone.

http://thetweener.blogspot.com/2007/12/supposedly-fun-thing-ill-never-do.html

Collaboration

The Seven-Songurai: Seven Call-and-Response Classics

The Tweener is dead...Long live the Tweener

2008-02-26T09:39:00.000-08:00

Hello everyone,

It is with little regret that I announce the discontinuation of posting on the Tweener, which will occur by the end of this week. This is not a joke. Repeat: This is not another joke. I will be setting up shop at the superior Wordpress in the near future with a new blog, or perhaps multiple ones in different categories. A couple of things you can expect in the new format:

1. A narrower focus.
2. A new name, because 'tweener' now means pre-teen females in popular vernacular. Having the name "the tweener" for a blog about 20-somethings, therefore, is not exactly a triumph of marketing.

We will post at least one retrospective this week of our best/worst posts in case this blog gets shot into space as part of some sort of introduction kit for extra-terrestrials. thetweener.blogspot will remain active so people can continue to read our timeless posts throughout the ages, and also so employers can deny me a fulltime job when they google my full name even though it is nowhere to be found on this site(Attn google: How do I stop this?).

The ETA on the new blog is anywhere from a few weeks to two months (two months is at the absolute most). If I have a new blog that is very topic specific, it will be supplemented with another that is composed of my random musings. As for Amy and Ryan, they might come along to the new blogs, but if they don't, I will keep you informed if they have their own thing going.

To everyone who has enjoyed this "online magazine", please come back and visit every couple of weeks, because I will post the URL of the new blog on this page. Thank you for reading, and to quote Churchill on his own alcohol addiction: "Now this is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning."

Three Cities

2008-02-22T14:56:00.000-08:00

Since college, I’ve lived for some time in three cities: New York, Washington, and Philadelphia. I totally failed during my 6 months in New York, ‘made it’ professionally in DC but left after a year and a half, and am now approaching two years living a relatively comfortable existence in Philly. There are a few basic lessons I’ve learned, and these apply to twenty-somethings with 0-50K salaries. If you’re reading this and are older and make more, however, send a big advance to 759 South Jessup St. Philadelphia 19147 and I will write some shit that will blow your mind. Nevertheless, here are the lessons I’ve learned:

-Most people tend to think the grass is greener on the other side. they believe that if they move to another city, their social lives will improve. If said people live in DC, then they are correct. For everyone else who hasn’t lived in their city for at least two years, though, step back and ask yourself what exactly it is that you are running from. Could it be...Yourself? Loser. Oh, excuse me...”Tragic hero.”

-New York is billed as a “city that never sleeps”, but without a lifetime supply of stimulants, how are you going to pull that off?

-To continue on New York, nobody interesting lives in Manhattan anymore outside of Harlem and the lowest of the East Side. Sex in the City was a really popular show that made Manhattan the province of 30-something, affluent, fashion conscious professional white girls. As a consequence, Manhattan is probably more boring than even Dallas these days.

-Philadelphia is a city full of skeptics, but unfortunately, people seem to leave their skepticism at the door when a mediocre guitar band is playing. People are very supportive of each other in the local music scene, so Matt Pond hasn’t been told to quit yet.

-In Washington DC, people get excited about their flip-cup teams.

So, with these lessons in mind, here are the cities compared by category:

Living

New York: Although your neighborhood might be run-down, there is no actual ghetto left in New York, except in the northern parts of the Bronx. Yeah, I know you live in Bushwick or Bed-Stuay. Just because my car window was smashed the last time I visited, however, doesn’t mean there isn’t a brunch place two blocks away and a coffee shop across the street from your apartment.

Washington, DC: DC is so expensive nowadays that you are stuck paying 900 dollars a month for a small room in a Bungalow in Sherlington, where the metro is a mile long walk away. At least the shittiest neighborhoods in New York have Bodegas on the corners where you can improvise some food. Fuck it; I don’t care if your life in danger, living east of North Capital and North of New York Ave is still fucking better than Northern Va. or Maryland.

Philadelphia: Like I’ve said before, people on the outside still think our city is a post-apocalyptic warzone, so you can live in a lot of convenient neighborhoods on the cheap. Unfortunately, the rent has shot up in “next big thing” neighborhoods like Fishtown, but the secret is that Fishtown is actually boring aside from Johnny Brenda's. What’s the point of going to Johnny Brenda’s more than twice a week anyway? so you can tell people “I saw the A-Sides before they became minimally successful”?

Dating

Philadelphia: Since there’s little status to be gained in this city that anyone cares about, you don’t really need to take your girl anywhere other than a functional dive bar. If you are in even a below-average band, just point at the girl you want and take it from there. If not you are not in a band, just lie about being in the Future Tips.

Washington, DC: Some casual pre-dinner wine at Tallula’s, Dinner at Marcel’s, post-dinner jazz at Bohemian Caverns ending with drinks at 18th Street Lounge, all accomplished by chartering a fucking limo. This will merit you a shoulder shrug. Your date will go on to bang an aide to Sam Brownback in order to gain an interview for an assistant Press Secretary position.

New York: Nobody dates in New York. People just accidentally fuck each other a bunch of times.

Going Out

Philadelphia: There are generally less douches in Philly. You can go an entire night in Philly douche-free. Since you are basically resigned to walking everywhere, however, your nightlife will slow down in the Winter to the point where you will not walk five blocks to a bar until it is at least 50 degrees out. And yet, no one would think to call you a pussy.

New York: Hop on the L Train! We've got a choice between a strip of bars in Williamsburg, or a strip of bars in the Lower East Side! There's no place like New York!

Washington, DC: Talk about other hotspots all you want, but your night will end up in Adams Morgan...In tears.

Dress

Philadelphia: In about two years, 60% of the hipster population will have a nervous breakdown over the tattoos they can't get rid of.

New York: Nobody even knows what's cool here anymore.

Washington, DC: You can't even get Chinese food without boat shoes.

Jobs

No

Rejected ideas for Tweener posts, today’s edition

2008-02-21T11:49:00.000-08:00

Today, we look inside the mind of Chief Editor Scott’s attempt to come up with an idea for a post before his lunch break reaches two hours, meaning that writing the actual post would extend the break to three and a half hours. Even he feels bad about doing that.

This is a previously taped live blog that examines the creative genius behind the Tweener.

1:25: Come back with shrimp tempura lunch, and the first idea materializes: “The Tweener has run out of things to hate, please provides us with ideas in the comments”

1:28: Next idea: “Due to lack of ideas, The Tweener calls it quits”. Hmmm, this sounds suspiciously like “The Tweener surrenders to terrorism”. What’s the shortest amount of time someone has taken to plagiarize themselves? *breaks out spacemen 3 album* Oh yeah, the one second between songs.

1:40: Finish lunch. Read Anthony Bourdain’s blog. This has nothing to do with anything.

1:45: Third idea: “Documenting hate: a chronology of what Scott’s hated over the years”

1:52: Have to abandon timeline. It would’ve been 4 o’clock by the time I finished my rant on “Crazy Game of Poker” and that’s just the year 2000.

2:01: “The People’s Revolutionary Tweener Proclamation!” This one would’ve featured a soviet propaganda poster with my photo shopped face pointing directly at you, announcing glorious news that the “Twin Monster Movies: Cloverfield and London” post never existed, and the link would instead direct you to a post detailing the Tweener’s RSS subscription premium increase of the chocolate ration to 20 grams.

2:15: Read Andrew Sullivan’s blog. This is the most popular fucking blog on the net? Are you serious?! There’s like 20 words per post!

2:21: “Bad news and skiffle band blues: The greatest hits of Scott Cumberland’s MySpace bulletins and comments” I’m actually serious about this one. MySpace was like Greenwich Village circa 1960 back in 06.

2:30: Finally, “A note of concern to my friends: Adam’s Morgan Disease” and “Top Five Adams Morgan Fight Scenarios”. This is the post where I finally get to criticize my DC friends for still going to Adams Morgan. Unfortunately, I ran out of time, but you all are not off the hook.

That’s it. Oh and by the way, I fucking quit. Until tomorrow.

So, You’ve Decided to Quit Weed, cont.

2008-02-20T10:33:00.000-08:00

5. Dissociating from stoner-types (a.k.a. entire social circle)

Pros: New friends! Not having to watch another episode of Wonder Showzen, ever.

Cons: Jonathan Richman's unlisted. Ian MacKaye is boring. Everyone else smokes weed.

6. Drinking

Pros: Costs less, alleged better method of socialization, increased confidence, improved dancing abilities.

Cons: Can't do it before work, hangovers.

So, You’ve Decided to Quit Weed

2008-02-19T15:46:00.000-08:00

Hey! What a coincidence! I’ve decided to quit weed too. That is, until I broke down and unsuccessfully tried to acquire some this past weekend. The worst part of not succeeding? Not being high to dull the feeling of failure.

It’s ok, however, because we’re gonna get through this quitting thing together. First, let’s dispel a bullshit myth: You will not suddenly have more energy. You know what they mean by ‘having more energy’? Not being high. Your normal state will not be enhanced because you aren’t smoking. You will just be in your normal state more often. What they mean to say, therefore, is that you will finally break even on energy after 8 years.

Now; step back and feel that normal energy. Kinda blows, doesn’t it? What you are going through is minor discontent. This happens 2-4 weeks after quitting. You have been burying your minor quibbles and major concerns under the green haze for some time now, and since the initial novelty of being sober has worn off, you are worrying that you should’ve put better use to your ‘down time’ in the past. At the same time, however, you have no clue where to start with the down time that you have presently.

It also doesn’t help that mid-end Winter is the worst time to quit. You are sick of the cold, and the weekends are at their most boring. During this time, all you want is a nice bowl and the New York Times Sunday Travel section, followed by a little Real Madrid and whatever other socialist activities you can partake in. Unfortunately, you don’t have weed for the bowl, you can’t enjoy yet another article on Portland, OR unless you are high, and Real Madrid have a tradition of fascism. This post, then, is to provide an introductory pro and con guide to steer your mind away from simply throwing more pot at the boredom problem. Disclaimer: Haven’t tried about half of this shit.

1. Throwing money at the problem

Pros: Xbox 360s, furniture/clothes shopping, prostitutes, yoga, non-gateway drugs, weekend getaways, visiting a therapist. They say money can’t buy you happiness, I say bullshit...3-6 months happiness guranteed. At that point, you can simply go back to smoking at smugly tell people, “hey, I quit successfully for half a year. It wasn’t for me.”

Cons: You don’t have the money.

2. Dating

Pro: The “thrill of the chase”. Finally being able to eat at nice restaurants.

Cons: Impossible to achieve balance. Suddenly, the girl you are having sex with becomes your girlfriend and starts throwing words like ‘ambition’ around, so you think to yourself, “I’ll serial date or work on two/three girls at a time”. Sorry buddy, but you are a serial monogamist. You will be involved with 5-8s until you are married. I’m not saying you will never date multiple girls at a time, but the only people who have the ability or drive to *consistently* do this are highly unlikable upper crust douchebags or dorky Mystery “pick-up artist” Ron Paultard voters who are lying about 75% of their conquests. Become really good at what you do or hope you land on that 8.

3. Cooking

Pros: A craft that is rewarding on many levels. Cooking an elaborate dish can take up to 2 hours of that exceedingly boring after-work downtime.

Cons: Some recipes you just can’t trust. Par exemplar: Chicken Curry. I had a simple formula:

-4 tablespoons Thai Yellow Curry past

-13.5 Ounces Coconut milk

-2 tablespoons soy sauce

-a sprinkling of sugar

-Chicken thigh meat, along with onions and mushrooms

Suddenly, I come across this online recipe that recommended that I forego the curry paste and instead coat the chicken in the following spices:

-Coriander

-Cumin

-Cinnamon

-Ground Cloves

-Tumeric

-Cardamon

-Chili Powder

I mean, is all this junk really necessary? “It’s just how it was traditionally done, man”. Well, I’m sure that’s how it was traditionally done 150 years ago when the chicken was exposed for 13 days in room temperature and had to be covered in spices to mask the rot. It’s 2008, however, and I don’t my dark meat to taste like someone’s garden.

4. Exercise

Pros: Absolutely the simplest and easiest way of dealing with post pothead stress disorder. No matter what the mood, exercise will improve it. I hate to say it, but it’s true. It’s what the government doesn’t want you to know; that’s why every baseball player is an alleged steroid user, NBA players are portrayed as not giving a fuck, and NFL teams are stupid enough to draft players like Kyle Boller in the first round. Indeed, the government is interested in continuing America’s time-honored tradition of indifference to all sports and physical fitness.

Cons: Gym membership costs money. If you don’t have a gym membership, you can work out at home, but that means you have do your cardio in either the freezing cold or boiling heat in a city full of drunken Irishmen. Dieting and exercise trends shift so often, the healthy workout you are doing today could suddenly be a cause of prostate cancer tomorrow.

To be continued tomorrow.

In Honor of President's Day, Ranking the Fictional Presidents

2008-02-18T06:42:00.000-08:00

1. President Bennett - Clear and Present and Danger

Makes a deal with the Columbian drug lords he was previously trying to fight, cutting off his illegal black ops army in the process and getting them slaughtered. A true American hero.

2. President Andrew Shepherd - The American President

Before he had a big hit with "The West Wing", Aaron Sorkin made his mark with this movie about the West Wing. In The American President, Michael Douglas falls in love with Annette Bening (really? Annette Bening?). Douglas' presidential qualities are exaggerated due to the fact that no one would ever vote for Richard Dreyfuss.

3. Fake President Bill Mitchell - Dave

Kevin Kline undergoes a metamorphosis in this movie from goofy impersonator of the incapicitated president to someone with real ideas. What are these real ideas? Getting every American a job. With that type of insight, You might as well promise free sandcastles as well.

4. President Tom Beck - Deep Impact

When everyone goes crazy for Obama, they forget that Morgan Freeman was the first Black President in "everyone in this cast seems to be taking a nap" Deep Impact. Like Obama, Freeman got saddled with an America in crisis for his presidential term. Instead of a recession, however, Freeman had to deal with a humanity destroying meteor. Luckily, only part of the asteroid hits, landing on the East Coast and building a tidal wave that reaches as far as Missouri. You know what that means? Lots of crucial red states, including Florida, were obliterated. That undoubtably left California's electoral votes to aide a victorious second term for Freeman.

5. Stock footage of Bill Clinton - Contact

Stock footage of Bill Clinton oversees the first successful contact with extra-terrestrials; is there anything the Clinton's couldn't do in the 90s? Indeed, The Clinton machine was so successful, they could campaign leftover footage of Bill for president. The problem was that Stock Footage's speeches seemed a little vague, like he was trying to leave out all nouns to fit any situation: "we must know about the facts to make a decision on this particular subject. Without the facts, we might rush to judgment on the issues in question. It is the most important issue of our time, one that demands that we know the facts."

Not listed: A shitload of movies starring Chris Cooper.

It's Valentine's Day!.....leave me alone.

2008-02-14T04:59:00.000-08:00

As the lone XX in the Tweener office, I thought I would offer my wisdom for our boy-readers on what to NOT get your little girlfriends on this, the holiest of all fake/depressing holidays.

1. Undergarments

The last thing I need is a[nother] black thong with Sexy, Cutie, or Baby written across the front in rhinestones. In fact, no one should own a thong with Baby written on it.

2. Vibrator

Leave it to a dude to buy a girl the vibrator that most resembles his own penis. Great! Just what I wanted! A veiny, three-inch dick that leans to the right and runs out of batteries after 1.5 minutes.

3. Ecstasy Pills

You might think Valentine’s Day is the perfect opportunity to let your guard down, swallow a Hello Kitty and tell your lover how you really feel. WRONG. You will end up drooling all over yourself and, through gritted teeth, repeating “you’re just so…beautiful” over and over. Save the pills for President’s Day.

4. Any makeover/beauty/bath/health product/sporting equipment

Translation: You’re ugly, you smell bad and you’re fat.

5. Engagement Ring

Scratch that—this is a brilliant idea. Propose marriage to your girlfriend today. Go ahead and sign your life away. Enjoy not having sex, getting fatter, spending time with someone else’s parents, the nagging, the arguing, the divorce proceedings, and the eventual return to bachelorhood.

6. Three-Way

This one’s complicated. If you’ve been going out with a girl for 3-5 months and she’s a bit of a freak, it might be ok. Otherwise, you might have to deal with tears, a slap across the face, and the end of the road. Bonus: the other girl still might fuck you.

7. Flowers, chocolates, etc.

Who are you, my dad?

In closing, I have zero ideas as to what a good Valentine’s Day present might be. I’d appreciate a good lay and a joint. Then again, I suppose you never asked for my advice. So, we’re all square here.

Hope and Change

2008-02-13T12:27:00.000-08:00

When people ask me my political affiliation, I tell them I'm a Schwarzenegger Republican. Partly because I like Arnold Schwarzenegger, particularly the films Predator, Terminator, Twins, True Lies, Last Action Hero, Eraser, Conan the Barbarian, Red Heat, Commando, Terminator 2, Total Recall, The Running Man, Conan the Destroyer, and Kindergarten Cop (I'm not crazy about Raw Deal). But also, and more importantly, because it's a stupid fucking question. I'm twenty-five, live in center-city Philadelphia, and am most likely wearing a purple shirt. Figure it out.

Now just because I'm a Democrat doesn't mean I'm going to be watching any Obama speeches outside the comfort of my living room (or until their conclusion, for that matter). It doesn't mean I'm giving him 10 bucks. It doesn't even mean I'm going to vote. But I can't stave off the infectious interest of leap-year politics; it just grabs a hold of you! And I know I'm not the only one. Seriously, whose twee-pop message board doesn't have an "I <3 Obama (OT)" thread on it right now? You bunch a liars.

So anyway, I'm pumped. At first I was kind of going for Hillary, cause I like experienced ladies with some fire in their belly. And I would have liked Biden, but for some reason, the whole United States of America was all Fuck This Guy. Now I'm sort of settling in with ole blue eyes: Barack Hussein Goebbels Pol Obama. He's got a four point plan that's pretty tough to beat: overrated speaking ability, novelty, hope, and change. Just the kind of bullshit I like. So I hope you're pumped, too. Mix it up out there; have fun. Get out the vote and tell me how it was.

President's Day Weekend is Slept On

2008-02-12T10:16:00.000-08:00

Your place of employment typically offers you 5-6 three day weekends per year. MLK, President's Day, Memorial Day, 4th of July and Labor Day are provided by nearly everyone. Some people get Columbus Day. Christmas weekend sometimes runs for three days, but people usually take more time off. Out of all of them, President's Day is the most underrated.

Nobody plans for President's Day. Hell; nobody even knows it's coming. Over the course of November, December, and January, you are bombarded with so many holidays and vacations that you forget that there's one extra holiday tacked on in the third weekend of February. You typically only become conscious of it within 1-2 weeks of its arrival. Furthermore, you realize that it is the last holiday you get before a three month trudge to Memorial Day.

On President's Day, travel is usually out of the question; you are typically exhausted from all the traveling you've had to do in the previous three months. Expectations for big parties are usually low, too, as you are effectively in party "dead season" (post X-Mas/New Years, pre-spring) and no one in history has ever thought of putting on a blowout President's Day party. If you have a significant other, you just busted your romantic wad a couple of nights ago on whatever that made-up holiday is called, so you don't have to go all out to cater to them. Finally, you have more energy than you did on MLK weekend a month ago, but just as little to do.

With all of these factors coalescing, President's Day weekend should always be an exercise in creative debauchery: "We've got three days and no plans, so how and where do we get fucked up in this city?", and sure as the sun rises each morning until it is blocked by the ash covered sky from the 2015 Yellowstone volcanic eruption, you will find a way to get memorably fucked up. Now is not the time to worry about appearances or dignity. Have you smoked crack before? No?? Well, I don't see any reason why you're not sitting around smoking some crack, or possibly selling it. You'll need muscle, however, so got out there and recruit...It's President's Day weekend, dawg!

Have you ever been to an Asian wishy washy? Sixty dollars upfront for the body wash and massage, another two-hundred or so for the full service. Do it in the morning after you wake up, too. Save that drunken pussy "it's 3 am, let's get asian prostitutes!" shit for the regular weekends.

Don't forget the NBA All-Star game!

Ahh, President's Day. In 2005, our slogan was "rrrrrooooaaaarrrrr" due to the amount of adderral we were on the whole weekend. In 2006, in the span of 36 hours, I went from DC to Philly, then back to DC, then from DC to Atlantic City, then back to DC. I am still not sure why. On the other hand, 2007 sucked...I guess you can't win em' all. Let's compare the greatness of President's Day to the other three day weekends:

MLK: People are too partied out for this one and are usually just looking for a bag of weed.

Memorial Day: By far the most overrated holiday weekend and a budding disaster each year. Let's review the negatives:

1.) You've been inflating expectations for this weekend for at least a month before it even arrived.

2.) For some reason, nobody ever has a fucking clue on when to throw or coordinate the cookouts/parties. Sometimes it's Monday, but that means you have to reign yourself in because you work the next day. Is it Saturday, then? It is Sunday? Nobody knows anything! There should be a commission studying this! Sometimes people throw all the parties on one day, leaving you with nothing for the rest of the weekend, and sometimes nobody does anything at all because everyone went to the beach. The beach?! I'm sorry, unless you are 45 with two kids, memorial day should be a city weekend. I mean, you've been waiting three months for this and your whole plan is to drive an hour and a half in traffic to sit by the ocean and finally get around to reading Freakonomics? Holiday pass revoked.

Furthermore, people can't pace Memorial Day parties for shit. Drinking should start either before two or after five. Before two o'clock at least lets people know that they are in for a long haul and should prepare accordingly. After five allows people to dig in and push hard to make it to late night. Anywhere in-between, and people are passed out or home by 12:00, leaving all the asshole 10 o'clock-arrival carpetbaggers to make out with each other. That's illegal.

3.) Because there's never a set plan (ie 4th of July is THE day where everyone parties) , you always end up feeling like you are perpetually missing out on some superior party that nobody told you about, or that you eschewed for something else. On 4th of July, for better or worse, you've made a decision on where to go and you can make peace with it. On Memorial Day, you miss one night, and then suddenly over the next week, people are talking about this amazing party where Black Thought of the Roots showed up and was a dick to everyone, and you were completely in the dark.

4.) In my opinion, having a bad Memorial Day weekend is an omen for how the rest of Summer will go. Do you understand that I'm generally spooked by this weekend? Only a brilliant stretch in mid to late August this past year saved me from continued mediocrity. For fuck's sake, I'm spending this May/June driving across the country in hopes of ending the Memorial Day hex.

Or maybe all Summers just suck because of the soul-punishing heat.

4th of July: Hyped to oblivion, but always delivering, 4th of July is the best holiday weekend of the year. Because the 4th is sandwiched between Memorial Day and Labor Day, your expectations are tempered a little bit. Furthermore, no matter what day the 4th lies on, you always know there will be something happening on that day. This allows you to build party momentum accordingly. There is one exception, however: Wednesday. WOW that was awful last year. One measly day?! Please never let it happen again, US government. I fully expect you to temporarily change the date of independence the next time it falls on a Wednesday.

Labor Day: Second only to Memorial Day weekend in disaster potential. Everyone's kind of knackered and depressed around Labor Day. Vacation season is over, school is starting for certain people, there isn't another holiday for months, and everyone is sick and tired of the heat. I actually haven't encountered people our age really celebrating Labor Day, and for good reason: It's a fucking a glum holiday. "Here: Take one day before everything around you dies."

In conclusion, please enjoy this most underrated of holiday weekends. Remember, however, that you pretty much do the same shit on a holiday Monday that you do at work: Surf the internet and recover from the previous two days. In that spirit, make please every Monday your President's Day for eternity.

The Tweener announces surrender to terrorism

2008-02-11T10:16:00.000-08:00

Hello my friends and colleagues,

Last week, I wrote a post that was overtly critical of Mitt Romney. In that post, I sought to contrast what I believed to be his rather weak attempt at call-and-response interaction during his campaign speeches with some of our favorite call-and-response songs.

Although the Tweener has not made an official presidential endorsement, early polling shows that at lease two of our staff members will vote for a Democrat, provided they are not too high to register.

During Romney's concession speech, we learned that voting for a Democrat would mean a surrender to terrorism. Due to our criticism of Romney, coupled with our early polling results, I have decided to make a preemptive surrender to terrorism on behalf on everyone on the Tweener. It was a tough decision; I won't deny that. As a leader, however, I have to make the hard decisions, like when I should turn my entire organization over to radical jihadists. That time is now.

The terms of surrender are being negotiated as we speak. At first, I offered to turn the Tweener headquarters over for occupation by the men of Middle Eastern descent who operate the food truck in the garage below us. They were confused, as they stated that they already owned the building in which were operating out of. Woe be the humiliation that engulfed me at that very moment, for they had defeated us long before we mustered the courage to lay down our arms!

I asked the occupiers to transfer me to the P.O.W. camps in their homeland, giving up Amy's address in the process. They did not understand what I was talking about, and instead smiled and gave me a watermelon.

Indeed, negotiating surrender has proven to be difficult. The first task, locating the 147 armed terrorists throughout the world, is challenging enough. After that, there are so many different sects. Al-Qaeda was the safest bet, but which one? After much deliberation, Ryan will go to Al-Qaeda Iraq, and Amy to Al-Qaeda Pakistan/Afghanistan. To my horror, however, Al-Qaeda claimed that they didn't have the money to fly Amy or Ryan over to their respective bases. Osama has spent all of their money on weed and Whitney Houston albums. You will have to pay for your own tickets.

As for me? I have surrendered myself to the terrorists of France. There, I will suffer under the oppressive conditions of a spacious chatteau near the South Coast, enduring the strong Euro, cream-based cooking, Scott Walker albums, and beautiful artistic brunettes who will listen for hours to my anectdotes about Miles Davis. Go on, Ryan and Amy, but remember that I have sacrificed myself to the greatest torment out of all three of us so that one day, you two might see an America free of terrorist occupation.

If by miracle, I escape incarceration today, expect a post by the afternoon of tomorrow, or perhaps wednesday. Until then, this is the Tweener signing off forever.

The Seven Songurai: Seven Call-and-Response Classics

2008-02-08T11:02:00.000-08:00

I have just one thing to say before we proceed: You see this middle finger, music of the 1960s and 70s? That's the non-proverbial 'fuck you' to the songs from your era that we completely left out of this list, except for Steely Dan, who we only included to fulfill our Caucasian quota. I could've just as easily chosen Should I Stay or Should I Go from the 80s, too, but I'm only having mercy on your overrated past. Go watch the Big Chill and seriously think about what you've done by making us pay for your imminent retirement.

Now to the list, in no particular order:

Amy: Night Time is the Right Time - (as performed by the Huxtables)
Before she was starring in Chingy videos and topping 'Most Well-Adjusted Child Stars' lists, Keisha Knight Pulliam (aka Rudy Huxtable) put on an unforgettable performance in this piece of 80s sitcom call-and-response magic. If this video doesn't warm your heart, you're made of stone....or you're one of the women alleging that Bill Cosby sexually assaulted you in the past 40 years.

Ryan: D'Angelo - Chicken Grease

Ever been hanging out in the shitty Chinese store around the corner (you know Lee's, too?!) waiting for the safest meal you could possibly order, most likely chicken and broccoli or General Tso's or whatever, and some crazy guy orders Turkey Livers or some $#%^? D'Angelo wrote a song about that called Chicken Grease. I think he meant it to be about hard times growing up or something but to me and all the people who bought D'Angelo's record (instead of Sho'Nuff Killa or whoever was 'hot' that week), this song is about wondering why the hell anyone would ever be talking about chicken grease. If this blog were popular, we'd get tons of e-mails telling us all the great uses of chicken grease; good thing I don't want to talk to their broke ass anyway.

Scott: Naughty By Nature – Hip-Hop Hooray

Naughty by Nature were masters of the call-and-response hit. In addition to this song, they produced the classic O.P.P., as well as the lesser-known Uptown Anthem from the Juice soundtrack (a movie that featured a young Tupac and Omar Epps!). Hip-Hop Hooray wins solely based on the fact that its commercial release coincided with Treach's near MVP level performance in Rock 'n' Jock B-ball 4. This song also has the distinction of being the last hip-hop mainstream crossover hit before Nothing but a G Thing kicked off the Dre/Snoop era.; aka the moment Hip-Hop found its weed.

We’ve also embedded Uptown Anthem for you.

Ryan: ONYX - Slam

Maybe the main reason for call and response is that random syllables seem much more reasonable when a mob is yelling them than when sung alone. While 'SLAM!' could maybe be pulled off by a charismatic vocalist not named Fredro Starr or Sticky Fingaz, 'Dunh dunh nuh, dunh dunh nuh,' just doesn't sound right spoken alone by anyone. Still, this song was a lot of fun in grade school, and I bet their duet with Biohazard on the Judgment Night soundtrack is just great. Plus, even if their other album Shut 'Em Down wasn't a pinnacle of the mid-1990s bullshit-rap genre, they get a pass on whatever they do because Starr is on The Wire.

Scott: A Tribe Called Quest – Scenario

Another song from the early 90s! What’s next? Cameos from Horace Grant and Paul Reiser?

Long before Tribe were considered to be the predecessors to backpacker, coffee shop bohemian alternative hip-hop, they were known for this throw-down track. This song is what used to be called a “posse” cut, where one popular group tries to give attention to an up-and-coming group by featuring them on the track (ie the Homicide/NYPD Blue crossover episode). On this particular track, the Leaders of the New School play The Critic to Tribe’s Simpsons, and this song is heavy on the call-and-response verses between the emcees. There’s no rhyme or reason to where the call-and-response appears, which contributes to the random awesomeness (my personal favorite: “Layback on the payback, evolve rotate the gates...CONTACT!”). Bonus points for Scenario featuring one of the first appearances on wax for Busta Rhymes...You know, before his star really shined with his performance in Higher Learning.

Note: Before the Black Eyed Peas were embarrassing hit-makers, they were embarrassing Tribe imitators on their first album, “Behind the Front”. Nobody listened to it, yet somehow their career survived.

Amy: Ray Parker, Jr. - Ghostbusters
In college there was this pointless building called The Depot that I went to for a Halloween party one year. By the grace of god, it was a BYOB affair...which was necessary because the entertainment was a jam band. I drank three 40s and eventually blacked out. Regardless, I still knew what to say when those dirty hippies on stage asked me who I was going to call.

Scott: Steely Dan – Black Cow

Steely Dan loved cocaine and jazz, a combination you just don't see enough of these days.

Honorable mention: Gwen Stefani: Hollaback Girl. TLC: I Ain't Too Proud to Beg. Outkast: Hey Ya. The Clash: Should I Stay or Should I Go.

Mitt Romney has inspired us to create a list

2008-02-07T09:49:00.000-08:00

I'm sure you've been watching the primary coverage on the news like the diligent, informed citizen that you are. Along the way, you might've witnessed one of Mitt Romney's many concession speeches. In these speeches, he weaves a tale of inspiration for all Americans: The son of a George W. Romney, a filthy rich Mormon businessman who served as governor of Michigan from 1963 to 1969, Mitt Romney overcame all odds to get a dual JD/MBA from Harvard. He was highly successful as CEO of the management consulting firm Bain Capital, and then effectively managed to 2002 Winter olympics. He later became governor of MA and then ran for president on a platform of "change" involving the building of a 1,000 extra guatanamo bays, de-regulating everything involving businesses and taxes, and endlessly talking about how he was once a CEO.

It's no surprise, then, that every American hates his fucking guts except a bunch of Northeastern investment bankers and real estate speculators, who America equally hates. Still; even they didn't vote for him. In the end, only the Mormons and states where Romney lived gave him any love.

If you were to list three things that America despises, I would bet that the following three things would appear on the majority of people's lists:

1. Management consultants
2. Mormons
3. Winter Olympics

This is not even considering the fact that if you were to ask anyone who's ever met anybody from Massachusetts who their least favorite person was in life, it would be a competition between all the people that person met from Massachusetts.

Oh yeah, American's also hate their bosses, especially right now. You'd have to be an idiot to run on your CEO credentials. You might object to me and say, "bbbbbbut George Bush ran as a CEO!". It was a baseball team. People like baseball. And besides, Bush has that southern good ole' boy CEO persona, which is distinct from Northeastern corporate CEO. Nobody, I mean NOBODY, likes a big Northeastern corporate CEO, especially one who did management consulting.

Mitt Romney spent millions of dollars to lose over and over again, and despite the super tuesday massacre, he will stay in the race to lose another day. UPDATE: MITT QUIT. He's kind of like Rudy, the Notre Dame football player, except if Rudy had all of the talent, none of the likability, and got cut from the team repeatedly.

In honor of Mitt's loserdom, we'd like to make a list. This list is inspired by Mitt's campaign speeches, in which he initiates a call-and-response part with his audience that revives the worst boring cliches about white people and stiffness. Romney says something about how we asked Washington to fix something (funny, I never asked anything. Did you ask anything?) and the audience responds THEY HAVEN'T Here's how it usually goes:

We look to Washington for leadership, but Washington has failed us.

We've asked them to fix illegal immigration. They haven't.

We've asked them to get the tax burden off our families and businesses. They haven't.

We asked them to end our dependence on foreign oil. They haven't.

We asked them to maintain high ethical standards. They haven't.

We asked them to fix Social Security. They haven't.

We asked them to stop spending money on pork barrel projects. We asked them to balance our budget. They haven't.

The problem is that there is never any energy or rhythm in Romney's voice, and the audience never responds with "THEY HAVEN'T" in unison. They are always painfully jumping his sentences. A far cry from that dude who's running for the Democrats.

Here is a link to a video of this: www.godtube.com/view_video.php?viewkey=80c5d5a2d2693dd6f188

The list for tomorrow will be the top seven songs featuring call-and-response vocals, in honor of the number of states Romney won on Super Tuesday (I guess he won eight, but I don't care).

BREAKING NEWS: The Parker-Spruce Hotel was on Fire!

2008-02-06T09:10:00.001-08:00

Where there's smoke, err...Nevermind.

In an amazing development that has little importance to anyone, even for the people who live there, The Parker-Spruce Hotel was on fire last night.

This particular reporter happened to be first on the scene, and The Tweener is proud to break this news to you a mere 14 hours after we stumbled upon it on the way back from class. We also took live pictures, but the work computer won't let us upload them. We a had chance to put them on the computer at home last night, but there was a 104 state primary going on for god's sake!

You'll get the pictures this evening*. I surely have a great career in journalism ahead of me.

*THE PICTURES ARE NOW HERE.

The mainstream Philly news won't mention this fire, and in all honesty, we wouldn't have even bothered to tell you about this if we hadn't written an ode to the Parker-Spruce a couple of months ago. While we certainly appreciate the Parker Hotel, let's get something straight: We can't go around covering the "issues" that the real news won't notify you about. That requires that I get paid, or at least am unemployed with a monthly stipend coming in. So; while we have pictures, we gurantee you not a single damn interview or react quote from any person who was evacuated from the building. Let's just tell you that they were all grimy, sad, probably evicted from somewhere else, and they all used to work at a mill. The non-destructive fire of the Parker Hotel was the least of their problems.

BTW, I've still never seen a huge fire up close. This was just one of those pussy fires. In all honestly, then, this wasn't even an issue anyway. Basically, a run-down hotel with substandard wiring caught a minor fire. I would've said that some condo developer was trying to commit arson to eliminate an ugly building that clashed with an otherwise gentrified neighborhood, but condo developers are all broke losers these days, and they probably just checked into the Parker-Spruce anyway?

I hope that some day, this inspiring story will live on through the rise of the global Chinese empire of 2014 to the end of history (2031).

Travel Plans

2008-02-05T09:29:00.000-08:00

I’ve got reading to catch up on this afternoon, so I got only a minute here.

I’ve made tentative plans to drive across the country and back at the conclusion of my semester in early May. This will also coincide with the quitting of my job, of which I’ve already given notice.

I have to get back by early June for whatever internship/freelance work/independent project I conjure up for the Summer. The plan is to read On the Road, then do everything the opposite of Kerouac because I can’t stand that novel. I probably won’t get past thirty pages of Sal Paradise’s tiresome journey, however, so here is the real plan:

May 9th: Columbus, OH (to that get that adderall connect, Lauren! Hahaha jk, it’s simply for the “value of your time”).

May 11th: Leave Columbus, arrive at Nashville, TN

May 13th: Leave Nashville, arrive at Memphis

May 15th: Leave Memphis

May 16th: Arrive at Austin, TX (maybe stop in New Orleans on the 17th)

May 18th: Leave Austin. Stop in random desert town, or El Paso, on night of 18th.

May 19th: Arrive at Tucson/Bisbee, Arizona (home of Calexico, Giant Sand, and Howe Gelb for those you who are scratching your heads right now).

May 21st: Leave Tucson

May 24th: Arrive at Portland, OR. (maybe stop in LA or San Fran on the way. I’m not terribly interested in visiting either city, so maybe stop in podunk towns along the way).

May 26th: Leave Portland, arrive Seattle.

May 29th: Leave Seattle

June 1st: Arrive Chicago, with random stops on the way there.

June 3rd: Leave Chicago

June 4th: Arrive Philly.

That’s the plan. I’ve been to Portland and Seattle before, But I want to go to Portland again, and the plan is the west coast trip by visiting friends in Seattle. Obviously, I planned to spend much more time on the way there than back. I have someone who is committed to tagging along, but there’s a 50% chance that will fall through, so for any friends who read this, if you can ever free up thirty days, consider it. I probably would not go it alone, but traveling alone has its merits.

Any recommendations for the people who have done this before? I think the lurkers should speak up and let their voices be heard. Break free of the Lindsay, Brandon, Lauren and Ryan tyranny!

Eli, The Absurd Hero

2008-02-04T11:16:00.000-08:00

Last night, an important football game was played. The game cemented what we already knew: Advertising executives are pathetic. Nice job, Planters Peanuts...A commercial where an extremely ugly woman becomes sexy by rubbing peanuts on herself? Truly one for the ages.

It must be such a backhanded accomplishment to land the role of the ugly Planters girl. Seriously, It’s not as if that role is going to catapult you to a career, unless you count playing Justin Long’s haggish blind date in “Epic Move 3” a career. I hope that particular actress really needed the money.

Ok; the game. I am a huge New York Giants fan. Last night’s victory was the best game I ever witnessed. Due to the diverse readership of this publication, however, we tend to be light on the sports commentary. It’s probably for the best, too. You know the saying: Every seven seconds, someone dies, every four seconds, someone is born, every three seconds, some asshole starts a sports blog, and every time you mention Ron Paul on the internet, a thousand commentators will flood your message board with a bunch of rambling about abolishing the IRS and re-instating the gold standard. If you don’t know who Ron Paul is by now, then go fuck yourself. Also; please don’t vote for him.

Without digressing into excessive analysis of the game, I want to write a few words about Eli Manning, and by extension, little brothers across the universe. Eli happens to have grown up in an atmosphere where his older brother is so extremely accomplished to the point where competing with him is almost pointless. I have an older brother who is like that, and maybe some of you have grown up in a situation like that as well.

I sometimes mention hipsters on this blog. My brother probably has no idea what a hipster is. He will never need to know what a hipster is. Furthermore, he will never need to complain about ‘fratboys’ or preppies or any shit like that. He has the gift of extreme competence, which renders 98% of other people pretty much irrelevant.

My brother deferred enrollment to a top med school to successfully qualify for two Iron Man championships. He then decided to attend a top law school while switching his focus to bike racing, and is now racing at a professional level, while editing Law Review at the same time.

You think I want anything to do with that? Fuck no. After witnessing first-hand how hard certain levels of accomplishment are to attain, you might well kick back and become the swashbuckling, erratic, mystifying brother who people believe to be both a retard and a genius within the span of five minutes. That’s Eli Manning, as well as the little brothers of accomplished older siblings everywhere. I’m not sure exactly how Eli’s life went, but I assume Peyton often criticized him for the following things:

1.) Smoking too much weed.

2.) Spending too much time talking on the phone with his first high school girlfriend, despite that fact that Peyton was guilty of the exact same thing when he was younger.

3.) Driving drunk.

I’m willing to also guess that Eli beat Peyton in a one on one basketball game when he was 13, finishing Peyton off with a barrage of two handed three-pointers to complete a stunning comeback. Nevertheless, Eli will never produce the passer rating that his brother has, but the bloodline isn’t thin, it just got accidentally injected with a small amount of liquid LSD. You may wonder where the hell his head is 60% of the time, but that other %40 will produce some brilliant moment out of nowhere.

And you know what? It’s entirely appropriate. Who wants to be exactly like someone else? When Eli throws an interception, he does that angry-at-himself, ‘aw shucks’ routine, but I bet you that deep down, he doesn’t give a shit. He’s thinking to himself, “thank god, now people will stop comparing me to my fucking brother”. When he won the Superbowl MVP yesterday, you could tell he was thinking, “yeah; this is cool, whatever. Brother did it a year ago”.

Growing up around extreme competence makes fucking up a lot of fun. It also results in some crazy things happening that your older brother probably never experienced. I bet my brother never stumbled into a Ritz Carlton hotel room featuring lesbians on ecstasy, only to have absolutely nothing of note happen (insane!). I bet he never eluded two stalking muggers in the Amsterdam Red Light district to stroll back into the hostel for a casual Heineken. I bet he never got really drunk in England, and then went to a dance party, grinding with every girl on the floor until one of them eventually took him home (I hope he didn’t get to see what she actually looked like). And for all of his athletic accomplishments, I know for certain he never launched himself in the air with a fiber glass pole.

I bet this stuff never happened to Peyton either.

Before you try and accuse me of making excuses for little brothers across the world for having less talent, just remember that we can write award winning essays on obscure Milton poems on a last minute adderral binge, we can blossom into fine actors (uh, Casey Affleck), and we can certainly lead a team of pass dropping, fumbling, 12 men-on-the-field penalty committing enigmas to a superbowl victory against an undefeated team. It’s the little brother way, and it’s never very attractive.

To symbolize what I’m saying, take a look at the picture below. Eli may look like a drunk dufus, but the girl on his arm is HOT. Judging by those eyes, however, she may be a demon.

I see you, Metro...

2008-02-01T09:52:00.000-08:00

Low and behold, I opened up my Philadelphia Metro yesterday, and admist the fifteen word articles, I noticed a column by some guy named "Johnny Goodtimes", titled "Never Say Never". His column begins with this paragraph:

"While logging into MSN on Monday, I noticed a column titled "10 Things a Man Should Never Say to a Woman." Being someone who has a rich and voluminous history of saying dumb things to women, I thought I might be just the demographic such an article was aiming for. But alas, most of them were common sense ("are you expecting?") or things no man has ever said to a woman without being stabbed with a meat thermometer ("You are acting like my ex-girlfriend!"). Dumb."

Hmm...Sounds familiar, doesn't it? A mere three weeks ago, I wrote and directed a little one-act called "out of nowhere, a dating advice post". The post started with this paragraph:

"For any of you who have ever had a hotmail account, you are probably aware of the various dating advice lists that MSN posts on its homepage seemingly everyday: "10 first date no-nos", "14 pitfalls in bed", "8 signs she's cheating on you with a short guy". These lists are about as useful as dick-flavored ice cream. They're filled obvious pointers such as "don't punch her in the face when you say hello", as well as empty platitudes like "just be confident". Even worse, they insult your common sense by bringing in some "expert" psychologist to tell you why talking incessantly about your ex-girlfriend on the first date is a bad thing...No really??"

Yes; I conceed that Johnny Goodtimes probably never "read" my "puny" little "blog". Furthermore, I'm willing to admit that hating on the MSN dating lists should be de rigueur among those who have to frequent the site. Nonetheless, HAHAHAHA GOT THERE FIRST, METRO! PWNED! YOU GOT NOTHIN' ON "DICK-FLAVORED ICE CREAM"! ENJOY THE MASSIVE STAFF CUTS!

Have a good weekend.

Poetry

2008-01-31T07:58:00.002-08:00

Most of the poets I've seen in the last few years got their start by holding a cigarette behind their head and yelling "OH!" Before that, I was disillusioned by being the best poet in the allegedly "Advanced" poetry class at Dickinson College, where laureates like Leslie York made me discuss the merits of poems that started with a different, less funny "Oh," like, "O' in that place free of time and space/ I gave my love to your face..." I think this might start a long Tweener tradition of calling people out by name. How's that virginity thing working out for you, Leslie? (These faggots can't track us down on the computer can they? Probably too busy with their dicks in their asses you know what I'm saying?? OH!!)

But last night, spurred by the promise of free shots and other drinks, we went to the Bubble House in West Phallujah to see our friend and New York barkeep Shafer Hall say a few words that rhyme but in a symbolic kind of way. Shafer was good and got better with more shots. These other two poets really sucked but I don't want to get into it or they'll call me a homophobe. Don't we need some new terminology for that stuff? Whether you're afraid of gays or just really not afraid of making fun of them, you all get lumped into the same homophobe camp. Doesn't make sense to me. I bet they drink a lot in the homophobe camp but listen to shit music. College, we'll call it. Dickinson College.

Then, all of a sudden, a curveball entered the proceedings. A dude with a guitar and he's gonna play it! I was kind of pissed, mostly because I was on the inside half of a booth and couldn't get up to leave. This wasn't no open mic. You know where there's an open mic? In your mom's garage. What's worse, this guy had the nerve to play a shitty acoustic open mic song... with no lyrics. That and some other song that ended, "Bluebird.... bluebird.... bluebird...." If I knew this guy's name, I'd call him out, too. Practice, motherfucker. BY YOURSELF.

Anyway, then we rocketed across the South Street bridge belting out Village Green Preservation Society and got piss drunk at Dirty Frank's. I think people might have been playing trivia or some shit? I woke up at 6 AM with a plate with two pieces of pizza on my chest that I think must have been fished from the trash. All in all, poetry is all right with me.

EDIT: The Tweener has been advised that calling people out by name is punishable by Carl's Jr. sized fines in Pennsylvania, so fuck it.

You thought the D and the C stood for District and Columbia?: A Southern Bureau Sexperiment

2008-01-30T10:20:00.000-08:00

9 D.C WORKERS FIRED FOR LOOKING AT PORN

I don’t know what office life is like in Philadelphia, but here in DC, we work "hard."

Nine DC employees were recently fired for looking at porn on the job, on average, 200 times a day. Apparently, 19000 j-off moments a year will get you fired, 2000 times a year only results in a letter sent home. For those of you reading this from your cubicle, sneaking quick peeks at Facebook or Slate, let me ask you: have you seen any naked t and/or a today? Not a single facial? Ha--welcome to D.C., suckers.

TWO HUNDRED TIMES A DAY. That's 25 clicks an hour. Quite a challenge, yes. But as a healthy, undersexed lady, I figured I was up for it. Video and images are fair game. No animals or children. 8 hours…200 porn site clicks…GO:

Hour 1: I’ve luckily learned a lot from ex-boyfriends: I’m undeserving of love (Ha. Ha. Sigh.) and where to find the best porn on the www. Youporn, EasyNews and TheHun are all quality sites for the best in homemade, professional, fetish, classic, nu-wave, girl on girl, girl on guy, Victorian, scatty, pissy, etc. Bookmark them, dear reader, you will thank me later. I can easily watch 25 videos of my choosing. This is much more fun than making copies or drinking superfluous cups of coffee.

Hour 2: Watching porn is one thing, but getting off to porn is quite another. Were these discarded D.C. employees just viewing? Did anybody check the bathroom stalls? Is it getting hot in here?

Hour 3: Hmmmmm..uhh. mmmmmm. oh. Oh. Oh. *privacy demand*

Hour 4: These dicks are starting to look alike. Vaginas come in various shapes and sizes, and they are all pretty ugly.

Hour 5: Email. Actual work. Email. Facebook. Newspapers. MP3 downloading.

Hour 6: The switch from videos to static images. Booooooooooring. Warning: do not indulge hippie porn. The lure of “all natural” women is not worth the nauseating, bushy, lesbian orgy.

Hour 7: Switch back to videos. Hm. Meh. Email. Actual work.

Hour 8: The end of the day…most government supervisors have already left. A little bit of Hour 3, but mostly, I just want to get home in time to catch TMZ.

In sum, I found it impossible to click on 100 porn sites in one day, let alone 200. And that was just the average for these now-unemployed pervs. Or should I say underemployed…I think my little experiment should be a wake-up call to the mayor: employees who can check out porn 200 times in a work day show superhuman tenacity, determination, courage under fire, etc. I love this town.

Twin monster movies: Cloverfield and London

2008-01-29T09:28:00.000-08:00

Much hype has been bestowed on the two NYC monster movies that have come out in the previous year and a half: Cloverfield and London. At first, these movies appear very much alike. They both feature a scruffy male lead who is kind of insufferable, and they begin with the male lead attending a going away party at a swanky loft apartment in the Lower East Side. Both guys are going to the party to pursue an extremely attractive, model-like woman who they were romantically involved with months ago, but had not spoken to in months. The party represents one last shot to get the girl. Finally, both movies contain numerous flashbacks to times when their respective male and female leads were happily together.

Forget what you heard, however, because the similarities end there.

In Cloverfield, the main character, Rob, faces in an obstacle in his path to the pursuit of love: A 1,000,000 ton invincible monster of unexplainable origin. This monster is destroying skyscrapers, eating people, releasing dog-sized parasites on the street to infect humans, and literally standing between Rob and the woman he's trying to win back. No one said love would be easy.

In London, the scriptwriters took a more subtle and innovative approach to the monster. London's main character, Syd, is addicted to snorting a white powdery substance, cocaine, that he believes will cure his internal fear. He soon finds out, however, that this substance is merely a psychological virus that has infected him with paranoia, as well as a propensity for babbling incoherently about the meaning of love. The internal monster causes him to lock himself up in an upstairs bathroom with an equally infected Brit (Jason Statham) for hours on end. They continue to snort the monster, but before they turn completely into zombies, they consume enough alcohol to diminish the beast within them. This alcohol overpowers them with the desire to confront their fears directly. As a consequence, Syd finally storms into the party and gets the girl he always wanted.

The ending of Cloverfield is less optimistic, however. Although Rob sneaks past the beast, reunites with the girl, and has a climactic kiss with her, they are both killed by the terrifying invulnerable monster shortly thereafter.

What can be learned from these films? Ultimately, an internal demon is much easier to vanquish than a 500 foot tall demon that can crush tanks.

Massive guitars and gargantuan monsters

2008-01-28T09:45:00.000-08:00

Well, this past weekend had it all. Live jazz, live guitar bands, filet mignon, NYC destroying monsters, diners, breasts, Omar jumping off a 4-story balcony (lol spoiler), and the always confusing FA cup.

There were two things that stood out, however:

1.) Not seeing Six Organs of Admittance at the Khyber this Saturday:

I went to the Khyber this Saturday to see freak folk maestro Six Organs of Admittance. I didn't see him. The last opening act was some guy and an acoustic guitar, playing in the exact same tunings and singing in the same voice as Six Organs of Admittance, so I assumed it was him and left, underwhelmed.

Not seeing Six Organs of Admittance wasn't the only highlight of the night, however. Indeed, the first two opening acts more than made up for it:

1. The first band, Creeping Weeds, committed the same exact indie rock crimes that I outlined after I saw Audible . Just substitute the female bass player with a female guitarist, which is even worse, because you can easily hide a superfluous guitar in the mix. I don't just pull these theories out of thin air, people.

Let's put gender aside for a second, though, and get to this point: I can tell the difference between a musician and a marketing ploy.

2. The second band, the horribly named Intergalactic Incense Burners, were damned impressive. They had this crazy guitarist who was looked like a 45-year old homeless biker. He did some taboo things with his guitar, like improvise, play squalling riffs in the high register, Use all sorts of fx pedals, and generally carry the ebb and flow of each song. Granted, the rhythm section was tight, but I've never heard individual guitar playing like that in a long time

That type of playing got me to thinking: While me and my friend were watching, mouths agape, at this display, I wondered if the crowd were impressed, or rather, were they thinking "what a wanker! Doesn't he know that solos killed JFK"? The funny thing is, the early indie bands had plenty of solos/improvisation: Husker Du, The Minutemen, Galaxy 500 etc. Even in the 90s, Malkmus was known to let loose, and all the brit bands (Blur, The Verve, Suede) featured pretty distinctive guitar players.

Today is a different story, however: When is the last time you left a mainstream indie concert saying "wow! such and such band member was incredible"? I know that songs are more important, but does every band have to sound like its musicians graduated from some basic competency factory? I'd rather the musicians all be shiite and create something through pure novice experimentation than accept this numbing "serve the 3 and a half minute pop song" route that all the guitar bands are taking.

Unfortunately, I'm going to have sit around and wait until my opinion becomes fashionable again, because it's sure as hell not right now. And yes; I'm projecting based on my own style of guitar playing.

Tomorrow: The Tweener takes on Cloverfield.

No offense, but...

2008-01-25T10:25:00.000-08:00

I don’t mean to be disrespectful or anything, but your essay writing skills need a little work.

I’m not trying to be an asshole here, but could you move your car a couple of feet forward so I can get out?

Sorry; I hate to be rude, but I don’t like your fake tan.

Not to ruffle feathers or anything, but please never sing again.

I don’t mean to be a dick, but can you get the fuck out of my party, faggot?

I’m sorry if I’m coming across as a smidgeon disrespectful, but the bombs will land on your capital in 24 hours.

No offense, but I only smashed your glasses because I thought you were ripping us off of our coke.

I don’t mean to rock the boat here, but this coke is actually crack. That’s not exactly what we were looking for.

I’m not trying to offend anyone here, but I’ve always believed that I was secretly better than all of you.

I don’t mean to undermine the general consensus of American tastemakers, but Little Miss Sunshine was a weak ass movie.

I don’t mean to crush your hopes or anything, but you’re gonna lose this election...Guaranteed.

Sorry if I hurt you when I cut off all communications with you for no reason at all. I guess if I were in your shoes, I would be a little upset...I guess.

I don’t mean to piss on Dylan Thomas’ grave or anything, but here I am, urinating.

Recession Related Activities in Philadelphia Pt. 2

2008-01-23T13:52:00.000-08:00

1. Visit Chris’s Jazz Café and Ortlieb’s.

What does jazz music have to do with a recession? Let me explain: In the period between 1945-1960, jazz clubs flourished throughout Philadelphia. On Columbia Avenue in North Philly (now Cecil B. Moore), there was a club on every block between 2nd and 33rd street. In fact, the stretch was once called ‘Black Broadway’ (DC residents might recognize that nickname; it belonged to U Street as well). There were also jazz clubs throughout South Street and Bainbridge, as well as West Philly.

Starting in the mid-1950s, middle-class black and white families moved out to the suburbs. Real estate speculators cut the houses into sections to accommodate lower income residents. As a result, less property taxes were paid, which meant worse schools, less businesses, and more poorly maintained neighborhoods. Crime increased, which was met with a corresponding police presence. A riot occurred in 1964 on Columbia Ave due to racial tensions between black residents and the police. As a result of this riot, as well as most riots that occurred throughout major cities in the 60s, urban neighborhoods went into steep decline (the riots of course were the end, not the means). Neighborhood jazz music as we knew it ceased to exist.

Possibly a better explanation for all of this is that jazz music was hard as shit to play, and new styles of music weren’t. The sub-genres of be-bop, hard bop and modal were intellectual genres (the previous swing era wasn’t), and required a lot of dexterity. Conversely at the time, R&B and Rock ‘n’ Roll required less skill.

Jazz is known as folk music, which I don’t argue with, but it’s got be the most ridiculously difficult folk music in history. You don’t see fifty year old white fathers playing jazz at some reunion barbeque, like you would with blues music. As a result, jazz is deadest of dead American folk genres. It is no longer playable or economically viable. It has receded into memory due to a combination of urban decline and public indifference.

Some hippie might want to chime in and yell “but Scott! Soulive! The Bad Plus!” Soulive is funk wrapped up in bullshit, and nobody cares about the Bad Plus. In fact, I’m probably just objecting to myself here.

So, go ahead and see live jazz at one of the two venues left in Philly. You will find out that instrumental soloing isn’t the worst thing in history, which you’ve been brought up to believe. Than again, I can’t blame you, because if you had to listen to the same jam bands I was subjected to growing up, you too would want to install a 3-5 year minimum sentence for playing out of pocket.

2. Visit South Jersey

All the families who moved out of Philadelphia because the schools sucked, but couldn’t afford Doylestown, moved here. I’ve never really stepped foot in South Jersey except to buy weed in a strip mall parking lot, but people have told me that it’s completely irredeemable. South Jersey has the highest percentage of sub-prime lenders in the Philadelphia area. Combine that with rising fuel prices, and that area is going to resemble Road Warrior in a couple of years, just like many exurban neighborhoods across the country. The endless strip malls are going to be abandoned, and perhaps replaced with open air drug bazaars (you see my usage of ‘bazaar’? Why is it always ‘market’ and never ‘bazaar’? We wouldn’t need to fight the War on Drugs if we just called every drug corner a ‘bazaar’ and North Philly ‘little Istanbul’).

3. Atlantic City

The Tom Coughlin Giants have never covered at home against a team with a .500 record or above. Bet your remaining money on that.

4. Stetson Hat Company and Schmidts Brewing Company in Fishtown

Whole city communities used to be supported by manufacturing jobs. Both of these factories re-located to some useless Texas town years ago, probably to enjoy lower taxes. As a result, the surrounding neighborhoods went into decline. As we know, things go in cycles; it will eventually cost an arm and a leg to transport products across the country, and at that point these companies will wish they never re-located from the city.

Ultimately, this is the optimistic note I want to leave you all on. Our recession will hopefully move people back into a system self-sustaining cities with their own manufacturing bases. Our generation has already shown that they are sick of the suburbs and respect city life. The rest of the country will follow suit, and we’ll be living in a utopia of flying hydrogen cars, Facebook thought police, and forty-foot wide lazer-beam shooting big sunglasses. Hurrah!

Recession Related Activities in Philly Pt. 1

2008-01-22T10:31:00.001-08:00

In case you haven’t noticed or anything, America is an a little bit of an economic pickle. With the subprime crisis, market crashes, inflation and the release of the latest gimmicky Magnetic Fields bore-fest (disclaimer: Never listened to em’), America will never be the same after 1/22.

It’s a shame that our long period of prosperity will end. Yes; that long stretch of prosperity that lasted a whole three years, sandwiched in-between the post-9/11 tech bubble recession from 2001-2004 and the one we have now. In fact, amazingly enough, if you look at economic periods over the course of United States history, you will see a constantly revolving motion, or ‘cycle’ if you will, of upturns and downturns! Wow! With this historical evidence, how could anyone see this current crash happening?

Unfortunately, many pundits are saying that this crash could be the big one. In fact, it’s going to be like that movie ‘Perfect Storm’: Terrible. Whether this crash will be bigger than 1907, 1929, or 1987, nobody knows as of yet.

Left-wing pundits are saying that this crash will reveal some ugly truths that our establishment won’t want to face: Namely, that the economic downturn, combined with high oil prices and diminishing fossil fuels, will end suburban life as we know it.
This sounds pretty bad, doesn’t it? Nonetheless, whether or not the U.S. recovers without total collapse, like post 9/11, or whether we are headed for depression-like conditions, it is worth it to compile a list of activities to engage in Philadelphia that are recession related. We are talking about ‘recession’ in the barest sense of the word; literally a part of American culture that has ‘receded’ to the dustbin of history. Because if we are to believe that suburban life is to be altered forever, then why not look at aspects of Philadelphia life and culture that have disappeared due to extenuating economic factors, and combine this with what we think will disappear in the coming decades? This list won’t be pessimistic at all!

Our compilation will be available for you tomorrow, whether you, I, or any of our friends are laid off or not.

In honor MLK day, top five movies about black people told through the eyes of white men

2008-01-18T10:42:00.000-08:00

1. Glory

The story of an all-black regiment in the civil war, BUT WHO WILL LEAD THEM AND TELL THEIR STORY?! Thankfully, the not-miscast-at-all Matthew Broderick bravely takes on the role of regimental CO. Broderick's character is a brilliant tactician, having effectively played dead in Antietam in the opening scene of the movie. Unfortunately, that type of behavior is frowned upon by military leaders as 'cowardice' (to quote David Brent: "Guilty! Get a new rule book! Alright.").

Ultimately, Broderick gets his shot at redemption by heroically leading the regiment into battle against a heavily fortified Confederate position, giving his life in the process. The last shot of the movie focuses on Broderick's lifeless corpse being rolled into a burial ditch by confederate soldiers; a symbolic representation of the ultimate sacrifice given for freedom and country.

Also starring Denzel Washington and Morgan Freeman.

2. Glory Road

The story of the all-black starting five on the NCAA championship winning 1966 Texas Western Miners, BUT WHO WILL LEAD THEM?! Perfectly-quiff'ed whitey Don Haskins, that's who. Throughout the movie, Haskins faces many harrowing obstacles thrown upon him for coaching a predominantly black team: His wife gets invited to less cocktail parties. His children get teased at school. Other coaches probably think a little less of him, but there is no way for him to truly know because most of the comments are shamefully made behind his back.

Thankfully, Coach Haskins is able to overcome these obstacles and lead his team by spewing a bunch of typical sports movie BS about 'coming together' and 'taking that one shot'. These movie coaches need better speech writers.

3. Last King of Scotland

Idi Amin was a fascinating historical figure who led a life that could spawn a million tales. That said, WHO IS THE WHITE MAN THAT CAN TELL HIS STORY?! Thankfully, some skinny Scotsman, whose name I'm not even going to research, decides to go to Africa after getting his medical degree. Mr. genius Scotsman doesn't even bother to do his homework before going to Uganda, as he finds out there is a coup in progress after he lands in the country. Despite this basic dumbassery, however, he somehow finds his way into Amin's inner-circle. In the end , though, this blue-eyed beanpole is 'only one' to discover Amin's horrors. After realizing Amin's abuses, he does the brave thing and skips out of the country. No wonder Scotland has never won anything.

4. Round Midnight.

A movie about a jazz musician in Paris as told by a white Frenchman. I was the only one who saw this movie.

5. Dangerous Minds/Freedom Writers/The Substitute

BUT WHO WILL TEACH THEM!?

Vacation season is over...Thank god

2008-01-17T10:02:00.001-08:00

In the Leonardo DiCaprio movie The Beach, there is a scene in the end where a character says something along the lines of "paradise is a state of mind, not a place". I don't know any exact details of the scene, because I've never seen the movie. In fact, the only basis I have for thinking that line exists is through a review by a user named "utahamaroo" on the Okayplayer message board eight years ago. This particular user believed that a biological agent should be created to eliminate Caucasians, but nonetheless enjoyed The Beach.

If you ever once talked about that 'beautiful' Moby song when The Beach came out, you had never heard downtempo music before, and I wanted to kill you at the time.

"Solomon, I think I'm seriously going to quit smoking"

Anyway, that line about paradise has struck close to home recently. I've taken a lot of vacations lately: Baltimore for Christmas, New York for New Years, and the Bahamas last week. I've found out that I end up missing Philly each time. In fact, I would kill somebody if I had to take another fucking vacation within the next few months.

No offense to all of those who I visited or travelled with during these vacations, but I have no need to 'escape' Philly right now. There is absolutely nothing to escape from.

Let's look at the advantages:

-*COMMENTS ABOUT JOB DELETED*

-I live in an apartment that's relatively cheap, has abundant food options that are a five minute walk away in any direction, and is located right in center city.

-Grad is school is shaping up to be both a joke and informative.

-I have friends spread out in different social groups, which is perfect for right now: all of the fun, none of the reputation-crippling gossip.

-Without turning this into a live journal post, life with the womens is satisfactory.

With all of this said, I don't give a toss about visiting some beach and drinking pina coladas. In Philly, I'm in a paradisaical state of mind. Cold? I'll just drink more. Bored? I'll waive my moratorium on weed smoking, or perhaps go back to the gym (lol). Dumped? I'll drink more. Fired? Basically impossible even if I tried.

I feel arrogant about my situation in Philly, and I have every right to: It was my goddamned decision to move here on a whim. That whim was a night of blow with a couple of art school girls in August of 2005, which included overrated live indie bands, spin the bottle, a free jazz jam, and Ryan jumping into the Schykill river at 7 am. It's those kinds of experiences that cause people to say, "I want to move here!", not 'getting a new job' or some bullshit like that. What are you? Upper middle class??

On a more serious note, it feels good for once to not beleive the grass is greener on the other side. It's like catching lightning in a bottle in a sense, and can't be expected to last. Nonetheless, location plays an important part in the process. I've said before that Philly is a perfect tweener city, one where you can know all the angles but not play them, or play all the angles but not know them. It's a city of experiments, with little self-importance in play. How can anyone take themselves seriously here? No one cares about Philly! People from the outside talk about the place like it's shrouded in perpetual darkness, with maurading bands of mongoloid criminals and a decaying rocky statue on every corner. Did you know that Eagles fans once booed santa clause? Frankly, I hope the ignorance sustains itself.

So, I don't need a beach to let loose. You can also take your "big apple" and eat it. Wow! New York has a lot of bars and skyscrapers and stuff! You can't find that stuff anywhere else!

Oh, I forgot: Lou Reed. He inspired a generation of rock critics. Congrats, NYC.

If only you could follow my example, you would set free*

*I hope you are heavily subsidized by your parents.

Upon Further Reflection: Three Days in Columbus

2008-01-16T11:19:00.000-08:00

There's a time when Columbus would have been in the running for a chapter in The Tweener's Guide to Cities You'd Never Want to Visit, and it probably still would be, except that now I have a friend living there - what up L-town! - who can parse the charming hicks from the regular hicks. (There are people in Ohio named Horn, btw.) This probably would have been a more exciting recap if I'd written it Friday morning when I was still drunk from Ladies' 80s, but I'll see what I can do. For the time being, just add a "/I was super drunk." on to the end of every sentence, clause, word. You can mix it up for preference or effect however you'd like i.e. the girls were extra slutty/I was pished.

Anyway, on Thursdays we went to a party at a bar called Scully's that looks small from the outside. Ladies 80s is really a fantastic idea that all cities and towns should adopt. They play all the hits from the 80s that you won't remember in the morning and girls get in free whether they're trashy or classy! (I assume the latter.) They have a dance floor, then another raised dance floor, and that dance floor has a ledge you can lean on once you realize it was a bad idea - KEY. Bonus, as soon as you enter some guy buys you two big old red bull vodkas and even throws in a little flattery to boot. Needless to say, I was riding high on Ohio around 1 AM Friday morning. Well, maybe not me, but a little guy I like to call my autopilot, or superconscious - although that term is wholly inaccurate. On the way home I trashed a gyro and yelled in some Brits window who live downstairs. The next day they said they were heavy sleepers but I think they just didn't want to mess with Texas. Can't blame 'em since I've been telling people that I'm working out again.

Friday, someone had a room at a Hilton where we swindled a bigger room, put a bunch of beers in a bathtub, blew a ton of adderall, smoked a hog's rod of cigarettes, corrupted some poor kid security guard, and took two hours to decide not to go swimming. It seems stupid now, but it feels pretty amazing to roll up on a confused Shiva store clerk and say "Three packs Marlboro Red, three packs Parliament, three packs Camel."

Saturday, we hurt like a combination of Pedro Romero after Robert Cohn beat his ass and Jake Barnes after he lost his cock in the war, so we smoked some trees and watched fifteen episodes of the X-Files.

So, in conclusion:
COLUMBUS FTW

The boss is out of town....time for a clip show

2008-01-15T08:06:00.000-08:00

Scott sent us an email last week, declaring:

THE TWEENER ANNOUNCES STAR POSTER OF THE WEEK: Scott.

What a fucking bastard. But seriously, I must admit that he's done a fairly decent job keeping me entertained for about 1.5 minutes/day with his little tweener (that's what she said lololol). My favorite moments:

1. Dealers where R U?
This isn't even one of Scott's posts, but whatever. This entry meant a lot to me for two reasons. First, the notion of stooping to the lowest lows for a dimebag is one all of us scumbags in the world can relate to. And second, the mention of "Watch Out For the Big Girl," which is one of the greatest Baltimore club hits of all time and always makes me want to go out and gain 100 pounds.

2. Marijuana Bust: Ways of Combating the Anxiety High
I found it really helpful to print this post, laminate it and carry it in my wallet at all times. So whenever I find myself "too high" I can whip out this easy reference and determine my next course of action. I'll go ahead and add "making out" and "public transportation" to the list of activities to avoid.

3. The Tweener takes on the "news"
I think I liked this one so much because it made me feel much better about myself. Sort of like watching Intervention or reading Dear Abby. So what if I'm "blowing a 47 year old" for a "bowlpack"? (see #1) At least I'm not a liar and a fraud. Edit: At least I'm not a fraud.

4. This roach infestation kind of reminds me of GangStarr, Pt. 2
Wtf?! was my first thought, but he really managed to pull it all together by the end there. I imagine Scott found himself amusing with the As for Guru, his solo career reminds me of the roaches in my room. Sure, they can survive on food crumbs and jazzamatazz albums, but as soon as my cat runs into the room (Rakim anyone?), they scatter away OUT OF RESPECT final thought.

5. Out of nowhere, a dating advice post
I'll be honest, I didn't even finish reading this one. As soon as I got to "dick-flavored ice cream" I immediately got in the car and raced to 7-11.

Out of nowhere, a dating advice post

2008-01-11T09:37:00.000-08:00

For any of you who have ever had a hotmail account, you are probably aware of the various dating advice lists that MSN posts on its homepage seemingly everyday: "10 first date no-nos", "14 pitfalls in bed", "8 signs she's cheating on you with a short guy". These lists are about as useful as dick-flavored ice cream. They're filled obvious pointers such as "don't punch her in the face when you say hello", as well as empty platitudes like "just be confident". Even worse, they insult your common sense by bringing some "expert" psychologist to tell why talking incessantly about your ex-girlfriend on the first date is a bad thing...No really??

What a guy needs is a practical set of guidelines with strict steps to follow. Based on recent experience, I've made a set of ironclad rules that will help you in very specific situation:

How to order drinks on a drink date.

Let's get this out the way: The majority of women will tell that they want men to act like men. this means decisiveness. In this first drink date, you must display unwavering decisiveness, and it starts with how you order your drinks. Master this process, and you are on the road to a long and wonderful relationship where all of your decisions will eventually be undercut.

First of all, there is an unspoken rule about drink dates that both parties are required to follow: A two-round minimum. Two rounds of drinks on a normal pace will last about an hour to an hour and a half. If you meet up on a drink date and are disgusted by your date within the first half-hour, you are still obligated to go for two rounds. I guarantee there aren't two human beings in this universe who can't spend at least one hour together, no matter how unpleasant it may be. If you break this social contract, therefore, you are breaking the laws of civility. Unless of course, you are getting punched in the face by your date.

Second, as a guy, there's the issue of what drinks to order for yourself. No girly drinks (a given), but also no liquor on the rocks, because you don't want to give the impression that (1) you're an alcoholic, or (B) you're an old man. The exception is if you're an expert on scotch or vodka or something, but even that's pushing it. Reveal the eccentricity later.

Order hum-drum beers, or MAYBE mixed drinks. Again, you want your body language and your conversational skills to be judged on your early date, not your drink decisions to be endlessly nit-picked in her head.

Now to the difficult part:

Ordering past the two-drink minimum

Based on conversations with guys, here is the basic problem: When the server comes around and asks if you want another round, if you order and she declines, you end up nursing a beer for another half-hour while she watches. That's no fun. On the other hand, if you wait to see what decision she makes, or defer to her, you're going to be seen as indecisive and weak.

It's harsh to have your masculinity judged on such a minuscule decision, but it's a reality. Hell, a female co-worker of mine complained about this very thing a few hours ago.

Some girls might tell you, or you might be inclined to think yourself, that a cut-off at two drinks by the female is a sign of disinterest. From personal experience, I find that it's not true. There are myriad reasons for ending at two drinks, not the least of which is that drink dates aren't supposed to be marathon experiences anyway. Sometimes a girl is already attracted to you, and just wants a quick confirmation that you aren't an asshole (or some in cases, are) before she gets down. No need to sit around in a bar needlessly talking when both of you are ready to go.

No more digressions, however. Here is the rule:

If things are going well, always order the third drink

Don't wait for approval; just do it. Chances are she'll go along if she thinks are going as well as you do. If she doesn't order a drink, it may not make for ideal balance, but it's still better than looking indecisive.

NEVER, EVER, LOOK HER IN THE EYE FOR APPROVAL. Look, I'm pretty liberal, but I understand that on early dates, you should throw your PC conceptions of 21st century gender politics out the window. Almost 90% of women will throw out the "men should act like men" line out for the courting process. It's only later that concepts of balance come into play.

This decisiveness should be applied across all areas. Choosing restaurants, making physical moves, smoking a bowl even if she declines (god help you), and paying the bill. If you just go ahead and pay the bill on the first couple of dates, any decent girl will return the favor down the line. If she doesn't, you live in DC, and you should be planning on moving out.

For the next rule:

In general, do not bother past the third drink

Drinks should be no longer that two hours. Your standard answer when the server asks if you want a fourth round will be "check please", unless the girl jumps in and orders one before you do, though instances like that will be rare.

If drinks go longer than two hours, you risk stretching for conversational topics. You might end up telling some unflattering story about how you were addicted to adderal that one year you lived in Hyattsville, MD. Although girls sometimes are intrigued by guys with checkered pasts, you should follow the old creative writing adage: Show, not tell.

Even if the conversation is going extremely well, you should either call it a night, or move things to different location.

Since my advice in this post is confined to ordering drinks, and that's all the advice I will ever give because I really don't know shit, you are on your own after this point. I suggest finding a gimmick for getting her to your place. Perhaps you play guitar, or possess some black-and -white photos of Arizona? Do what you will, but to quote Roosh V, "if you don't make out on the first date, you have failed".

Columbus > Philadelphia

2008-01-11T08:10:00.000-08:00

Ladies' 80s. More on that later. Have fun on the East Coast; you're more Dillard than Clark anyway.

Hey journalists: Shut the fuck up about The Wire's media storyline

2008-01-09T10:03:00.000-08:00

Disclaimer: If you don't watch The Wire, we'll continue our regularly scheduled programming tomorrow.

Last week, I made a tongue in cheek reference to the journalistic reaction to season 5 of The Wire in the "stuff to look forward to in 08" post. Since then, more reviews have come in examining the media storyline for season five. In addition to the Atlantic and the Baltimore Sun, both Slate and Philebrity have joined the discourse concerning the portrayal of the media. The overall gist of their assessments can be summarized as follows:

"Did you know that we're journalists, and some our friends our journalists too?"

We don't care. You want to say that you worked in a newsroom, and the style of dress was accurate? Great, because after watching season 2, the first thing I wanted to do was call a longshoreman and determine whether Horseface was wearing the right colored trousers. Again, we don't care.

You worked with such-and-such editor who once worked with Simon, and such-and-such Wire character obviously resembles him, which affects your enjoyment of the show? Well, guess what: I never fucking worked with that guy, and neither did the millions or so other viewers who watch the show. Save your personal anecdotes for your fellow journalists...We don't care.

You're a tv critic. Your job is tell the reader whether the season is good on its own terms. You are not to tell us whether the dialogue in the newsroom is bad because it's heavy on cliched newspeak based on your personal experiences; you are tell us it bad because it is poorly written dialogue, period. For example, I hated the line, "at the Baltimore Sun, god still resides in the details" for the same reasons I hated "American's are stupid people in general, we'll believe anything were told" line at the beginning of the episode: They are blunt statements intending to be profound in a show that accomplishes most of its goals by being subtle.

You also don't help your case by not quoting any actual lines to demonstrate how the newsroom dialogue is heavy-handed. That's just pure dismissive arrogance on your part and demeaning to your readers. "The dialogue is generic news dialogue, because I once worked in a newsroom and know how journalists speak". Fuck you.

Hey guys! You know what? I knew Naeem, aka MC Spank Rock, in High School! We hung out a bunch of times and talked music. Did you know he liked Brand Nubian and the Native Tongues collective? When listening to his music, I can't help but feel he's purposely abandoning the bohemian style he liked as a teenager, and as such, I can't enjoy his stuff as much as I should.

Did you find that last opinion enlightening? No??

Now you know how we feel.

You're a TV critic evaluating the quality of the show. If you're going to use your experience as a journalist to evaluate Season 5, how about we get cops to retroactively review season 1? Maybe let's get every pregnant-by-a-one-night-stand couple to review Knocked up? Or, better yet, how about we get retards to review the next re-release of Dogma on DVD?

Stick to the quality of the show on its own terms. Did the newsroom storyline detract from the overall plot? Well, I believe one of you said it did, but I honestly can't remember, because it was probably drowned out in the previous eight paragraphs about how you once had a beer with editor Bill Marrimow. Did you know one of my friends met him once?

This roach infestation kind of reminds me of GangStarr Pt. 2

2008-01-08T10:01:00.001-08:00

Where we left off yesterday, I was talking indirectly about how GangStarr had survived the Hip-Hop game by remaining underground: Chopping their samples to avoid getting sued, gaining enough of a cult following to stay afloat financially, and being admired by other respected hip-hop artists.

Like DJ premier said, this existence is kind of like that of a roach. Most roaches stay behind the walls, out of public view in a protected position. They seem to survive no matter what you throw at them, but they tend to scatter away when you shine the spotlight at them.

The problem with this hypothesis is that both DJ Premier and the roaches in my kitchen are full of shit. GangStarr has produced three gold records. They may not be super mainstream, but they are sure as hell aren't Aceyalone. Furthermore, DJ Premier doesn't stray from the spotlight, as he's produced beats for Jay-Z, Biggie and Common. So; appropriately enough, as I turn on the light in my kitchen, those fucking roaches aren't moving, but basking in the light. They are joyously gnawing on the leftovers of my Portuguese chicken like Premier producing an inconsequential remix for Janet Jackson. What a bunch of hypocrites: It's so cool to be underground until someone who matters throws you a (chicken) bone, isn't it?

So, I'm gonna treat these roaches like contemporary hip-hop artists treat Premier: Well-respected has-beens, with no food scraps (ie b-sides or filler tracks) being thrown at them whatsoever. That way, the roaches can go ahead and make their own album, but if it's as tedious as the Ownerz, they might as well retire and live in the memory of Kanye West shoutouts.

As for Guru, his solo career reminds me of the roaches in my room. Sure, they can survive on food crumbs and jazzamatazz albums, but as soon as my cat runs into the room (Rakim anyone?), they scatter away OUT OF RESPECT.

This roach infestation kind of reminds me of GangStarr Pt. 1

2008-01-07T09:39:00.000-08:00

Recently, Roaches have invaded and multiplied in both our kitchen and my bedroom. I was planning on fighting a multiple front battle, complete with traps, cleaning, and assorted poisons, much like the Great Fly Elimination Campaign of Summer 2007, but suddenly I recalled the raspy, confrontational words of a self-appointed roach master, DJ Premier of GangStarr, and reached a moment of clarity.

I can hear you freaking out now: "WHAT?!? When did DJ Premier compare himself to a roach?" or perhaps more accurately, "who's DJ Premier?". Patience, my friends, as these answers reveal themselves through the chopped samples, monotone rhymes, and most importantly, self-righteous skits of Gang Starr. Let's have a look:

The backdrop: Ten years into the game, GangStarr releases their fourth album, 1998's "Moment of Truth". GangStarr is composed of two people: Guru, an MC from Boston, and DJ Premier, a producer from Texas. The group started their career in New York City, and they have constantly pretended as if they were actually from there. Up until the release of "Moment of Truth", they had achieved great critical acclaim and "street cred", but little commercial success. The "street cred" part is key, because during the 1990s, about 847 different rap groups achieved critical acclaim without sales, and 821 of these critically acclaimed groups were actually terrible, but were acclaimed nonetheless because they rapped about 'conscious' issues such as Malcolm X, Malcolm X's lieutenants, Marcus Garvey, Marcus Garvey's lieutenants, and having "mind sex".

The Song: The fourth song on "Moment of Truth" is the single, "Royalty". Instead of describing the song myself, I will theorize as to what one of my music theory professors would've done if they heard this song: After about fifteen seconds, they would start rambling incoherently about the "Spice'd Girls", then disappear from public consciousness. By the way, that's all classical music theory professors do: Compare their music with the Spice Girls, no matter what year it is. It's really kind of sad. they are trying so hard to connect their obsolete craft with young people, but they reveal their hand so blatantly by not being able to recall one single artist of the last twenty years except the most obviously fad-based and fraudulent. Way to take a stand with your art by picking on the easiest of targets. You know what would've hooked me? Showing up in class the first day and shitting on Loveless for fifty straight minutes. I'd be playing fucking Schumann recitals on piano right now.

Oh shit!? You what would've been even better, if my professor showed up the first day and was like "wah wha look at me, I'm an indie rock musician, I don't need that faggy theory" and started playing two chords and singing really horribly, than proceeded to spit on everyone. This would've only amused me, though, as everyone in that intro class was a culturally deficient idiot trying to get their math requirement out of the way. I, however, was THE ONE STUDENT WHO COULD BE SAVED.

Anyway, "Royalty" ends with a monologue by DJ Premier.

The monologue: DJ premier is all fired up or something. Apparently, some "break record" cats have been taking the songs GangStarr samples and pressing them into records to play at clubs. DJ Premier is incensed that these DJs then list GangStarr as the original sampler of the song on the sleeves of these records.

Are you confused? Let's break it down: GangStarr samples songs to make beats, but the beat can't obviously sound like the original song, or else the group will be liable to a lawsuit by the publisher of the original song (a note on this: The original songwriter usually doesn't give a fuck about the sample, just the shithead publishers). DJ Premier employs a technique to subvert these sampling laws: He "chops" or "stabs" the orginal song into an unrecognizable stew. Usually, these "chops" are mere seconds of the original song looped to infinity.

After chopping these songs, GangStarr puts out an album. Meanwhile, the hip-hop world is filled with DJs who are constantly looking for the original songs that groups like GangStarr sample to add to their collection. Why, you ask? Because DJs have to play sets where they need to keep the crowd dancing for a long time, AND have good transition material. Hip-hop artists tend to sample beats from songs that contain long instrumental breaks, so it is in the best interest for the DJ to discover these original samples as a way to add strength to the variety of his/her collection and have long instrumental beats to keep people dancing and aid transitions.

What these DJs do, however, is list GangStarr as the original sampler of the song on these instrumental break records they put out. This is essentially violating a code of honor, as now GangStarr have been "outed" for sampling a song that was previously unrecognizable to the average listener. DJ Premier rants against this violation, then drops this line:

"We'll continue to stay in the underground. We're like roaches: Never dying, always living"

Tomorrow, we reveal the conclusion of the roaches/GangStarr analogy and how it relates infestation at The Tweener head office.

CNN's Guide to Covering the Iowa Caucuseses

2008-01-04T09:22:00.000-08:00

Point of Emphasis 1: Analysts

All of em; as many as you can find of varied pigment concentration and jaw strength. Four for every anchor, including but not limited to one bow-tie, one wheelchair/palsy case, two nappy headed hos, Taylor Nichols and three Harvard boys (can we get M.I.A?). Arranged in sets of three or four around tables conveniently arranged so Wolf Blitzer or Anderson Cooper can navigate among them asking the same questions. Two out of three should be young and/or dim-witted making the esteemed third seem wise in comparison. Bill Bennett is not to be cut off.

Point of Emphasis 2: Pie Charts

Specifically, computer-generated 3-D pie charts that spring awkwardly from a card-board contraption that Anderson Cooper can try to hold in a way that doesn't obscure the important analysts and still say, "Soloman Flores," - a woman - "your opinions?" and ignore the answer. It's important that the 3-D pie chart doesn't have more information than the regular pie chart because people might get confused. When the 3-D chart is unavailable, resort to two dimensions or one (via coaxial cable/stormtroopers).

Point of Emphasis 3: Explain the Explanations

When people think of caucuses, they think of bugs. Break it down for them. If a candidate doesn't receive 15% of the original caucus vote, those voters have to pick another candidate to give their vote to. NOT EASY ENOUGH. Think of the votes as chips, or "quarter-widgets", in a pool from which qualified Americans can cast or allocate their vote to said chosen candidate as long as they oscillate above the threshold of eligibility whereupon if they fall short, our gambling Democrats or Republicans, depending, must re-up in the direction of an eligible Trung Canidate, whose promise for the Saint Louis Rams in the 2002 campaign was never realized in further pursuits but whose Madden rating can be boosted if enough "Superstar points" are allocated forthwith.

Point of Emphasis 4: Call the Under-dog Candidates "Insurgents"

Keeps everyone on their toes.

Stuff to look forward to in 2008

2008-01-03T14:45:00.001-08:00

Yeah, here's the stuff:

Michael Nutter: New Mayor of Philadelphia

Michael Nutter: "No- centuries-old tradition of corruption and abuse perpetuated by thousands of individuals-you're out of line!!!"

Michael Nutter promises to be a reformist mayor who will end decades of Philadelphia machine politics and corruption. If I've learned anything from watching The Wire, however, it's that individuals cannot rise above the crippling limitations imposed on them by our beaucratic institutions. Since Mayor Nutter happens to be an individual, he will surely be a failure.

The Wire, Season 5

The most critically acclaimed TV show on...TV, has returned for its final season. From what I've seen, they're going to focus on the media and how it affects the social and politcal landscape of Baltimore.

As this critic and that critic have pointed out, Wire creator David Simon's years of experience at the Baltimore Sun may have negatively affected season 5. Indeed, Simon commited the cardinal sin of creative writing: Writing about what you know. Simon's extensive knowledge about how newspapers work will ultimately destroy the media storyline of season 5, ensuring the season's failure.

Gentrification in the Hawthorne Neighborhood

We live right at the border of the Bella Vista neighborhood in Hawthorne. Being that gentrification is an endless train that keeps on rolling, I'm sure a brunch place will open west of our apartment. This brunch place will probably serve some kind of crabs benedict, or a hybrid florentine-benedict dish with baby scallop grits. This dish will most likely contain some uneccesary spinach. I will still order it; I've got a benedict addiction. It will most likely be mediocre. Since I can't man-up and order pancakes, I'm a failure.

WTF Article: Consumer Confidence Rises

2007-12-27T09:57:00.000-08:00

From the Inquirer, titled "Consumer Confidence Rises in December":

The nation's consumers grew slightly more confident in December despite underlying concerns about the health of the U.S. economy.

The New York-based Conference Board said Thursday that its Consumer Confidence Index advanced to 88.6 in December from a revised 87.8 in November. It was the first increase since July.

How can I comprise like this and start commenting on dumbass articles about the economy? "Confidence" my nuts. I withdrew from intro to micro Freshman year so I could get drunk on Tuesday nights.

Wall Street expected a slight drop to a reading of 87.0, according to Thomson/IFR. Analysts surveyed by Yahoo Finance had projected a stronger 87.5 showing.

Consumer confidence is defined from Wikipedia as "the degree of optimism on the state of the economy that consumers are expressing through their activities of savings and spending".

Hey, just because I had to buy my brother and his fiance a weekend reservation at the Jersey shore because I forgot his birthday, doesn't mean shit about how I feel towards the economy.

But thank god our consumer confidence index rose a whole point during Christmas season. I guess we can forget the subprime crisis, stagnant wages, the resignation to watered-down Miller High Life cases, and driving without airbags because some poor schmoes stole them from my car to probably finance their own Christmas presents, or at least use them to make toy parachutes.

Despite this wonderful news, however, the article tells us what we already know:

"Consumers' short-term outlook regarding business conditions, employment, inflation and stock prices improved marginally," Franco said.

Still, she added: "Persistent declines in the present situation index indicate the economy is still losing momentum."

That index, which measures how consumers feel now about the economy, has been weakening since July and fell again in December to 108.3 from 115.7 the month before.

This reflects growing pessimism about the job market , a key contributor to consumer confidence and consumer spending.

Jesus, I honestly will refuse to do this anymore unless the article deals with marijuana, debutantes, or street crime. It's boring as all hell. Why aren't more bloggers like me? why don't they have original content? Don't they have anything to say about Red Bull? "The White Rapper Show"? Perhaps a funny anecdote about a homeless man on Broad Street?

In fact, a growing number of those surveyed say jobs are hard to get and fewer say jobs are plentiful, Franco said."

So, despite the headline "Consumer Confidence Rises in December", the overall gist is that we are actually screwed.

Hahah I'm not screwed. I just got an iphone. Time to check the appreciation on my inheritance. I'm gonna buy a loft apartment in Savannah, Georgia for the hell of it. Then, I'm gonna burn it down just like in that Coldplay song. You know, the one where Chris Martin is trying to destroy the place to erase the bad memories of something that happened to someone there? I actually thought "A Rush of Blood to the Head" was kinda decent. Yeah; I know it's unfashionable to say that, but let me tell you: Scott is not about following trends. He does what he feels, and he's burn that place down regardless of what happened to anyone there.

Conversations about work that go nowhere (aka mostly all of them)

2007-12-26T09:56:00.000-08:00

Conversation with public school teacher scenario #1

Me: So, you're a public school teacher?

Her: Yes

Me: Are you some kind of idealist, trying to CHANGE KID'S LIVES?

Her: hehe, yeah I try to do that.

Me: ...

*Crickets*

Conversation with Public school teacher scenario #2

Me: I hear it's always a couple of trouble makers who bring the rest of the class down.

Her: Yes.

Me: I'm gonna go get another beer.

Conversation with school teacher scenario #3

Me: So you're a public school teacher? What grade?

Her: 7th grade

Me: Oh man, that's the worst, isn't it?

Her: Definitely, I have one student who just jumps around the room bouncing on furniture. He's too big, so I have to bring in another teacher to restrain him.

Me: That sounds awful. I guess that's public schools for you.

Her: It's a Charter School.

Me: Oh yeah?

Her: Yeah

Me: ...

Her: ...

Me ...So, do you watch The Wire? They have a good season about schools.

Her: No.

*Crickets*

Conversation between two guys in marketing

Me: I'm in marketing.

Guy: So am I.

Me: ...

Guy: ...

Me: ...

Guy: ...

Me: You go first.

Conversation with guy in PR:

Me: What do you do in your position?

Guy: Write press releases, develop communications materials, maintain client relations, coordinate events.

Me: *Woken up by startling noise in the background* Oh...Yeah? I hear there's a lot of girls in PR.

Guy: It's pretty sweet; about a 70/30 ratio.

Me: THAT'S ALL I EVER NEEDED TO KNOW, DUDE! *heartlily slaps back*

Me, Ryan, and seemingly every one of our Philly guy friend's conversations with girls at the Philly Art Museum:

Guy: So where do you work?

Girl: Philadelphia Art Museum

*begin tearing each other's clothes off. Start relationship/fling/rebound hook-up that ends in heartbreak/mutual split that turns partisan/marriage.*

Editor's note: Welcome men, to the local 47 Dater's Union of Philadelphia Art Museum girls. Please contribute 100 dollars in dues to the monthly brunch fund. Bear in mind that although I have 99 problems, I never worked in the museum, and the two girls that I got involved with had left/were leaving the museum at the time of start-up. My 100th problem, therefore, does not concern that of a female who currently works at the PMA. Nonetheless, I empathize with you, son.

Conversation about work that turns to discussing Internet surfing at work:

A heartfelt, flowing, humorous and dynamic conversation follows that touches on all aspects of the human condition.

A supposedly fun thing i'll never do again....or will I?

2007-12-22T17:57:00.000-08:00

I'd like to think I'm somehow above the whims and fancies of the young and urban. When everyone around me is riding fixed-gear bikes, piling on the american apparel and registering for library school, I'd really like to be driving a Passat, buying a SFH in Catonsville and finishing up my MBA. Totes j/k! There are many stupid fucking trends out there that I wish I could resist and am forever hating on, but for some reason, my complete lack of will prevents me from standing strong. A list of the worst:

1. Cupcakes. Cakelove used to be on the tongue of every hip little Feist-lovin’ girl new to DC. Like their namesake, these Cupcake Girls are sickeningly sweet. They actually have dates where they go out and eat cupcakes! Why did cupcakes become trendy among the lady-tweener set? Because they’re just like cake, but much cuter. Like ballet slippers, sundresses and Maggie Gyllenhaal, cupcakes and Cupcake Girls are dainty, lovable and completely saccharine. I would barf, but I too wear leggings, have a dog that weighs under 20 pounds, went to a Lily Allen concert and have a refrigerator full of ‘em:

There's not even weed in there.

2. Oversized Sunglasses. We all know The Tweener's longstanding problem with big shades, and yes, I understand...bug-eyed Nicole-Richie poseurs are not hot! But...ugh...what are my options?!

I don't wanna.

They hide my glazed, tired, weary eyes most efficiently and thoroughly. I don't think I look like Jackie O, alright?

Look for me in Summer 08.

3. Social Networks. My current pattern goes: join, quit, join, quit, join, join, quit, quit, join. Why can't I resist the charms of myfacebookster? What have social networks given us but a look at the horrid music tastes of sort-of cute boys, a temporary ego boost upon peeping all the formerly hot, now fat people from high school, and an outlet for showing the world just how interesting, irreverent, smart, etc. we are? Every quip becomes a potential 'headline,' every conversation a chance to leave a 'wall post.' It's pathetic. But, still...

Has anyone tried the new "Compare People" application yet? It's the best, except when a question like "who would I rather sleep with?" comes up and the contenders are your brother vs. your cousin. But you have to decide! This stuff is really serious.

And that's the end of my first post on trendy things I can't resist. Tune in next time, when I tell you all about my love-hate relationships with coke, i-pods and anal sex. Happy holidays!

The Tweener Announces New Hiring

2007-12-21T11:16:00.000-08:00

Due to unexpected growth, The Tweener today announces the opening of its one-person DC/MD bureau.

Please welcome Maryland correspondent Amy. Amy is result of The Tweener's desire to cross the gender barrier and expand regionally. After receiving dozens of resumes from skilled freelancers across the beltway region, we chose Amy using our most important tie-breaker: Physical attractiveness. You see, being that the two male contributors to The Tweener are very attractive, we could settle for nothing less from our female counterpart. Amy's first post will be over this weekend, while you are all hungover.

Amy likes Charleston, S.C. She hates sushi. She'll reveal the rest of her interests over time, you over-zealous prick. Why do you have to know about everything? *Pushes reader*.

The Tweener's Best of 07 list Part 1

2007-12-20T14:37:00.000-08:00

Best Album: The Bees, Octopus

This album only has four great songs, but they are better than anyone else's great songs, so they win. The Bees are a British band that are unfashionable because they have a lot of dub and soul influences. That's so gay. Where's the fucking Kraut-rock jamz, doods? What about "sister ray" by the Velvet Underground? ! What do you guys have to say about that!?

In all seriousness, though, despite all the talk of indie rock being too white, all the good and popular bands these days have a little soul in their step. Spoon. TV on the Radio. M.I.A. Of Montreal. I embrace this trend with open arms, because I reserve the hope that one day, I will never have to hear another fucking word about Lou Reed or NEU! again.

Runner up: Of Montreal, Whatever it's called.

Best Show: Kurt Vile, West Philly Basement

I was so inspired by this searing, wall-of-sound, free jazz mixed with straight-ahead songwriting cocktail that I went out and scored a goal in my first 7-on-7 soccer game the next morning despite not knowing what soccer was.

Sportsman of the year: Lionel Messi, Barcelona FC/Argentina

I know what you're thinking: "You goddamn communist! A soccer player?!". Listen fellas, I love the NBA, NFL, and MLB, but let's face the reality that American athletes are roided genetic freaks who act like pieces of shit. Don't you think it's cute when the media tries to include some of personal tragedy story in every athlete's profile? "Oh yeah, it was tough when my best friend died in an car accident when I was nine. From that day on, I vowed to become the greatest tight-end in all of college football. I guess I kind of owe my 4.3 forty and 60 inch vertical leap to him". Fuck you, you narcissistic asshole. I hope you take enough hits over your career that you can't move after age 35. What are you gonna owe to your dead friend at that point?

Just look at Lionel Messi, however. A five-foot nothing, pug-ugly runt who is a magician with the soccer ball. I bet that motherfucker is just happy to be where he is. Players like Messi are the reason why soccer is appealing escapism: the sport's best players look like normal people that you could have a beer with. Most of them aren't even strong enough to rack up sexual assault charges. Yet, their wives are hotter than other athlete's.

Soccer players: Proving evolutionary-psychology wrong since 1500 B.C.

Best City I visited: Portland, Oregon

A combined bar/classic arcade. Doughnut shops that offer Captain Crunch as toppings. record stores that sell an ample supply of funkadelic t-shirts. Endless coffee shops. Beer available everywhere. Free, abundant public transportation. A vibrant music scene. Majestic bridges, mountains, and parks, all situated about fifteen minutes from each other. And finally, throngs of homeless people who sell dank weed.

Yes, Portland is what would happen if hipsters and hippies combined to make a city. And guess what: It is not a total disaster like you'd expect, but actually pretty amazing. I have no idea if it's any fun to live there, though. I'm guessing there aren't any jobs, so don't pack your shit up just yet.

Best Book: None

I can't read (read: Didn't read).

Money pledged from one shady, barely competent city organization to another!

2007-12-18T18:42:00.000-08:00

In a move that has widespread ramifications for how the Philadelphia taxpayer's money is wasted on our crumbling city institutions, the corrupt, state-owned Philadelphia Parking Authority has agreed to provide 3.07 million to the fiscally irresponsible, state-owned Philadelphia School District. This sure-to-be-inconsequential pledge can be attributed to Mayor elect Nutter's powerful influence over how our city bureaucracy will ultimately let us down.

As we can see, the PPA has engaged in some shady business practices over the years:

By legislative agreement, the city gets the first $25 million in parking enforcement profits, while the rest goes to the schools. But since the state seized control of the authority in 2001, the agency has typically fallen well short of that threshold and exceeded it only in 2004.

That financial track record prompted a series of articles in The Inquirer and the Philadelphia Daily News over the last two months that examined the authority's free-spending ways, including a doubling of the agency's staff, the high salaries of its top executives, big consulting contracts and more.

"free spending ways"? Parking Authority!? As we can see, the Republican-dominated PPA ownership loaded the institution with patronage jobs and no-bid contracts to friends. Let's face it: if you're gonna be stuck in a job that's as soul-sucking as parking authority management, you might as well get your Gordon Gecko on and cook the books as much as you can. In fact, the Republican Party must have treated the PPA as some sort of prison colony for their underperfoming lackeys, and whoever they assigned to these positions must have decided to turn it into their own Australia: High deficits, gradual privatization, and an income base that draws from the mistakes of 18-25 something Americans (PPA: Ticketing me constantly. Australia: Relying on the tourism of University of Texas coeds who think there's actually something in Australia other than the outback, weird accents and Romper Stomper.)

As we can see below, the PPA initially tried to lowball the city on this deal:

After a few days, the authority came back proposing a $700,000 increase in its payment to the city. Nutter said he told them that wasn't enough. The final deal was worked out Friday, Nutter said.

The extra money for the city and schools came after insistent requests by Parents United for Public Education.

"The parents deserve a tremendous amount of credit," Nutter said. "They came upon this issue, focused on this issue, and drew some serious attention to it, and they are the true champions here."

Thanks to the good work of Parents United and Mayor Nutter, the Philadelphia School District will now have 3 million to throw away into a budget black hole. The good news, however, is that at least 100,000 dollars won't disappear, and it will be used to buy four new computers, eight 2007 edition textbooks, and possibly a mobile "music class Winnebago" that will service 150 different schools for one 50-minute period a year. The remaining 67,000 of that money will be spent on alcohol for the annual PPA and Philadelphia School District joint X-mas party. They are both owned by the state, after all.

Whole Foods

2007-12-17T10:33:00.000-08:00

Ahhh, organic food. The wave of the future. No pesticides, no preservatives, no South American Juntas.

Too bad it tastes terrible.

Excuse me; the Whole Foods hot bar tastes terrible. You see, I’m a big fan of wasting money, and nothing is bigger waste than a ¼ pound of black cherry chicken from the hot bar. I’ve realized, therefore, that everything from Whole Foods must’ve been sprayed by a gigantic can of bland. The lasagna tastes the same as the lamb curry. The hot wings taste the same as the potato latkes. The Chicken Kiev tastes like regular Kiev.

Is this our future? Is everything we eat going to taste like it was sprayed by the Whole Foods bland can? And is it going to cost 113 dollars for a serving of macoroni and cheese?

I mean, come’on. Inflation? High interests rates? Wage stagnation?

Fuck that, everyone is just eating at Whole Foods.

I’ll take the pesticides and certain death, please.

Holiday Staff Parties

2007-12-13T12:23:00.000-08:00

Pros
Get to stop working at 3
Free food
Convo with the pretty girl from reception
Alcoholic drinks
Holiday spirit
Probably something you can steal for that Secret Santa bullshit on Monday
Heart-to-heart with department head buys you some slack

Cons
Still at work while not working
Vegan crap
Ex-girlfriend standing next to pretty girl from reception
Drinking with assholes got old in college
Holiday spirit
Everyone knows you're a thief
Department head slowly realizing just how fucked up you are

Have a swell Thursday

Spam-Bots: An Appreciation

2007-12-12T11:25:00.001-08:00

Within the next few weeks, one of our ideas will play out on video via our friends’ Seattle news parody show, Seattle Untimely. We don’t want to reveal too much right now, but let’s just say it involves a scene in the movie Boiler Room.

Anyway; myself and one of Seattle Untimely’s writer/actors, Charlie Stockman, were recently discussing our love of spam-bots. From your worst Viagra ad, to an old ‘friend’ notifying you of a new securities investment opportunity, to the most impassioned bots the internet has seen yet, Ron Paul supporters, spam-bots are the raging underclass of internet society. All over the place, we are seeing self-sufficient spam communities sprout up their own cultures and traditions. For example, just years ago, Myspace was the sole domain of humans. Nowadays, the spammers have moved into the neighborhood, and have caused a veritable ‘white flight’ of social networkers from Myspace to the gated community of Facebook. Although Facebook promises safety, it comes at the expense of the html pictures, the profile songs, and the seizure-inducing customizable pages of the vibrant Myspace culture. You may get mugged or even have your identity stolen by a spam-bot; but there’s soul there, man. It’s just like New York in the 1970s: You can guarantee that in thirty years, we’ll have a new generation of cultural critics who will write about spam-written Abercrombie bulletin posts in the same breath as Lou Reed, Patti E. Smith, and CBGBs. And just like those critical treatises on New York punk, you’ll want to murder someone after 10 sentences.

Spam-bots are usually considered to be inarticulate thugs trying to lure you into the ‘dark alley’ (i.e. getting you to click on their link) in order to steal your shit. Further examination, however, reveals them to be more intelligent in regards to their scheming than we initially think. Remember two years ago, where a ton of people started to post those “see who is viewing your profile!” bulletins on Myspace? In this case, the spammers turned the vanity of people against themselves by soliciting clicks on some profile tracker service that was actually spam-bot fraud.

That wasn’t all they accomplished with this scheme, however. While everyone was posting profile tracker bulletins and getting spammed, a backlash occurred when people responded with those “don’t click on the profile tracker bulletins – they are fake!”posts. Eventually, the Myspace bulletin board got so flooded with profile tracker and anti-profile tracker posts that it was extremely difficult to determine who the bigger asshole was: The tracker or the anti-tracker bulletin poster. In essence, the spam-bots turned a whole community against each under the pretense of a totally useless and narcissistic pursuit – just like real life!

So; today is the day we tip our hats to the spam-botters and demand a holiday in their honor. They’ve suffered for too long without rights in our constitution. If you have special spam-bot memories, post them in the comments.

Tomorrow: We propose the “Where’s Al Sharpton” spam-bot

The Tweener takes on the news pt. 2: Fatal Stabbing

2007-12-11T09:45:00.000-08:00

The "Tweener Takes on the News" is a weekly series by the Tweener to perform the functions of an average internet weblog, or "blog".

Low and behold, I open up my online paper today, and those clowns at that the Inquirer are clowning again. Let's take a look at this absurd story, titled "Man Fatally Stabbed in South Philly this Morning":

A man was stabbed to death this morning in the 1900 block of South Mole Street, police said.

Whoa! Looks like someone got stabbed!

The victim, an Asian male in his 60s, was stabbed several times in the abdomen. He also had a gash on the back of his head.

As you can plainly see, this is the part of the article where the writer introduces more details of the stabbing.

The victim was pronounced dead at the scene at 7:36 a.m.

7:36? That's an interesting time...

Oh fuck, let's just use this article to talk about the following:

Michael Nutter. Stop n' Frisk. Sugarhouse Casino. Free Wi-fi. Sugarhouse Casino. Jocelyn Kirsch. Joey Vento. Free Wi-Fi. Vento. Philadelphia Weekly article on slam poetry. Joey Vento. Sugarhouse. Nutter. Free Wi-Fi. Brady or Manning? Stop n' Frisk. Jocelyn Kirsch.

Serious commentary:

With all the news going on in Philly, it's good to know that the Inquirer still has time to print 15 word stories on homicides that are completely divorced of context and any other useful information. Like most Philly murder stories, there will be little follow-up that will explore the motives, the victim, and the state of neighborhood where this murder occured.

Most murder stories in Philadelphia newspapers, as well as newspapers accross the country, suffer from fragmentation bias. They do not provide the details that allow the reader connect them to greater social and economic problems that they are linked to.

For example, most people think that the majority of city homicides are related to drugs. This is incorrect. Most homicides are the result of arguments.

What are these arguments usually about? Although the news rarely explores the point of contention that leads to murder, one could assume it would be money.

Guess what is difficult and time-consuming for a reporter to follow? Money disputes.

In the end, therefore, we hear time and time again about murder with little understanding of the motivations of the culprits. The accumulation of these stories leaves the reader with a depiction of the city as an apocolyptic hell-hole where violence is random at all times. The reality is that within these poor neighborhoods where the murders occur, the underground economy operates in more areas than just drugs. For example, an auto mechanic might fix a neighbor's shocks in exchange for that neighbor to put up a new dry wall in his house, because neither have the money to pay each other. When such an agreement breaks down, who is going to come in and mediate that dispute?

Not a lawyer, that's for sure.

Sorry to get all preachy on you, but this last line explains it all to me:

Police are trying to determine a motive and suspects.

Then why are you printing this story?

Jocelyn Kirsch and Pole-Vaulting

2007-12-07T09:58:00.000-08:00

That last thing I want to do is attract more googlers, who have come to my site looking for info on this now nationally-known scandel and then leave without even clicking on one of the dozens of other posts that have covered something other than their klepto, boring-ass former friends from high school/college. As per usual, there are dozens of facebook groups being started so every nitwit who so much as made eye-contact with one of the perpetrators can provide some useless personal anecdote in hopes of getting a reporter to interview them. My favorites are always the ones like this: "I knew Eddie, I was on the swim team with him. This is crazy, I hope whatever happens will straighten him out". Hey broseph, why don't you just encode a spam-bot to write your post if your gonna be so generic? At least there'll be the possibility that your bot will be selling adderall.

So anyway, I'd like to commend Jocelyn Kirsch on concocting an awesome lie that raised my respect for her big-time: The tale of her being an olympic pole-vaulter. The inquirer took the article down for some reason, but Jocelyn Kirsch supposedly told everyone that she qualified for 2004 Athens olympics as a vaulter. She even posted a muddled facebook picture of her scaling an olympic height, when the person clearly wasn't her.

The reality was that Kirsch only vaulted for about a year. It is appropriate that she was a vaulter, as it fits her character perfectly in the context of track & field: Pole-vaulters are the moneyed gentry of track. They lie down on a padded mat all practice long catching a sun tan, only interrupting things for an occasional "run-through". Meanwhile, the 4 by 800 team is vomiting up their lunch after the twelfth interval.

I ain't mad at her for lying, though, because as a former pole-vaulter, I exaggerated my exploits quite a bit too. For example, I told everyone in college that my personal best was 11'6' to get laid, when in fact it was and even 11'. I also bragged about finishing third in the Maryland private school school championships of 99', making it sound extremely impressive, when in fact there were only about twelve teams competing in the whole thing, and only five of them had pole-vaulters.

Hey, high-school friends, remember when I came home from the Annapolis relays with a gold medal and a first place finish? Remember how much we were celebrating?

What I neglected to mention was that me and my two teammates finished first as a vaulting TEAM, and the only reason we won is because every other team got disqualified on the opening height. In essence, we won without even doing anything except clearing the opening height of 8'6'; a height so low that even Thom Yorke could dunk on it.

That was the first pop-culture joke of the Tweener. I pray to God it'll be the last.

In conclusion, us pole-vaulters really like to get high (ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh Snaps!). Getting so high causes us to exaggerate the truth. In the end, however, Jocelyn Kirsch had the ambition not just to add six inches to her personal best (breasts), but also claim that she competed in the olympics, steal other's identities, and go wherever the hell she pleased. Meanwhile, the rest of us pole-vaulters are left to history's cruel whims, banished to a life of counseling at Lebanon, PA summer camps and high-school track & field assistant coach jobs.

Words of Advice on two topics

2007-12-06T10:11:00.000-08:00

The miserable end to what has been a fairly decent opening semester is finally approaching. We will essentially be done on monday. Much content is to follow (but fuck that, you already have almost-daily content). Maybe there will be bells and whistles, like some sort of embedded audio "cast" that can be uploaded into your portable MP3 player, or "i-Pod" if you will.

I have some quick words of advice today.

2000-2004 Hippie Friends

Since Bonnarro went half-indie, half-jam band around the year 2006, I assume the college hippie of yesteryear has gone extinct. I don't know what the new amalgamation is like, because we don't tolerate that bullshit in Philly. I will, however, tell you of the misery of hanging out with hippies during the years referenced above.

Back in the day, you would be confronted with the possibility of hippie friends at a small liberal arts school that didn't have hipsters (aka not Oberlin. Remember, a lot has changed in three years), or a state school in a state that sucked (University of Maryland). You would have to choose between fratboys and hippies; there was really no middle ground.

Generally, it was ok to have one hippie friend. Having two was pushing it. Having a whole group where the majority are hippies caused your brain to melt. Let's go over the traits of these hippies:

-They weren't funny or witty

-They didn't read

-Most weren't athletic; the ones that were hated sports

-For all their love of music, it was limited to one genre, they could not talk about it coherently, and they could rarely can play any instruments themselves.

You probably already know about this, but I just wanted any hippie who reads this to be aware that they aren't welcome here.

Don't cry; you deserve it ten-fold. When you start talking about what songs you like by the Rolling Stones and the Talking Heads because Phish covered them, thereby making it 'permissible' to listen to them, you've pretty much indicated that you are a shell of a human being.

"Jesus Christ, I know Phish covered them, but is really ok to like these Rolling Stones people? Will this be ok with my peers?" *Reluctantly purchases Hot Rocks Volume 1*

To say everything that needs to be said about the 2000-04 hippie, we have the Bongo, or hand drum. Every hippie claims to 'play' this at some point. Is there any instrument more boring than hand drums? It's also completely asinine to play them, because Jam bands almost never used hand drums! How are you going to learn to play an instrument when you don't listen to any records that use them!?

Hand drum playing represents the hippie's lack of commitment to anything of substance. It requires the least amount of skill to fake-play. The only way you could be cool if you played hand drums is if you were in Fela Kuti's band, or Santana circa 1966-69. Hippies never listened to either group.

Thank God these people are easily avoidable now.

*Hateful post reflects author's poor life choices*

Pop Music Reviews

A pop music review is useful for two things: Telling you if the writer liked it, and telling you what the record sounds like in general.

After receiving that information, usually in the first paragraph, is there really a point to continuing? Most reviews just delve into overwrought meditations on individual songs and lyrics, which are completely useless. What do you care if you can't hear the song they're talking about? A pop music review that talks about the qualities of individual songs beyond "good/bad" and "sounds/like" is essentially a circle jerk between the writer and himself, and yet we see this all the time.

One paragraph reviews should be the norm

The stupid projects a creative marketing firm will take on to make money

2007-12-04T09:39:00.000-08:00

I'd like to bring everyone's attention to the worst business idea of all time.

It was a client that Z*gz*g Net had picked up in the Summer of 2006. Simply visiting the Client's site these days makes me crack up at the hilariously predictable failure it is now.

The client's purpose was serve as an itunes-style online audio/video purchasing site. You know, kind of like itunes.

This media site, however, would focus on independent and unsigned artists. On this site, they could sell their music and movies to the magical people who would actually pay for them in the era of Youtube and Myspace.

On this kind of site, music sales would be the bread and butter. You know, kind of like itunes.

For those of you who don't know, this is generally how one makes it at a very basic level as a musical artist:

1.) Creates demo/makes connections with musicians or venue promoters
2.) Gets early shows on the basis of demo or connections.
3.) Success of early shows brings consistent bookings. Hopefully open for a popular local act at a big local venue or at a city nearby.
4.) Create EP to sell at shows for small fanbase. Post EP on Myspace. Play festivals, showcases etc.
5.) Continue playing until picked by local act for a tour or by a promoter for a big showcase. Repeat until signed.

This is the pattern with few exceptions. Musicians initially make money off of shows. The music they record in their early stages will be free, period, until they are signed.

Unsigned: Free recorded music
Signed: For sale

There is no demand to pay for an artist's independent music, unless they are really good. If that is the case, they will be signed by SOME label. There are tons of them out there.

This is really not that difficult to understand, yet Z*gz*g's client thought they would make money by providing an online purchasing sight for artists who have little-to-no buzz. They wanted to buy ads in mainstream hip-hop magazines like The Source, XXL, etc., not realizing that independent hip-hop artists and the minute amount of fans they have hate big-media publications like The Source and never read them.

That isn't the worst offense, however. After all this talk of an independent music purchasing site; you know, kind of like itunes for nobodies, what did they name it? WHAT DID THEY ACTUALLY NAME THIS SHIT?

iVisionLive

YOU KNOW, KIND OF LIKE iTUNES, EXCEPT A MAJOR COPYRIGHT INFRINGEMENT IF APPLE COULD EVER LOCATE IT ON A GOOGLE SEARCH.

You can't find iVisionLive on the web unless you type it out exactly how it is. Not "iVision", not "i vision live", but only "iVisionLive". A sight with absolutely no major players backing it better be easy to locate via google search, but they couldn't even get this right while still ripping off the name of the most well-known file purchasing site in history.

So, a year into its launch, iVisionLive has no content except two hip-hop beats, and the movie "The Illusionist", which I doubt is actually available, and nonetheless defeats the purpose of the whole site's independent vibe. Z*gz*g Net did the website design and logo.

I invite you to take a look

The Tweener takes on the "news"

2007-12-03T09:53:00.000-08:00

Over the weekend, a colleague of ours told us that we should tackle more current events and happenings in the Philadelphia area. This blog is a little unfocused, he told us.

You know what I say to THAT BULLSHIT?!

Fine, you win.

Each week, I will put focus to an article in the Inquirer that raises an eyebrow. Last week, it was the marijuana bust. This week, I want to shed light on a new criminal element in this city: young 20-something douchebags. Before we get to the story of these two thievin' bastards, I want to say a few things.

Now, as you know, I certainly appreciate America. But as you may not know, I think that the majority of this current young generation of Americans are pretty messed up. Like my man D'Angelo once sang, they are all out for a slice of the devil's pie. Status is the objective, and it is turning some of us into the living dead.

For men, they want to be Vinnie Chase. They believe that Entourage is something more than watchable crap that is tipping dangerously into unwatchable territory. They want the monies and the womens. Unfortunately for them, success on that level requires these pesky things called talent and passion. Today's male prep-school alumni don't really have the talent or passion for anything other than flip-cup.

Flip-cup

Flip-cup

Let me say that again...FLIP-CUP

EXCUSE ME, BUT I HAVE TO GO WORK ON MY WRIST-FLICKING SKILLS.

For most women, ambition is something that begins and ends with a nationally syndicated sex-column. What would Carrie Bradshaw do? For starters, hire better writers for her show.

So, in the article I linked to, we have the tale of a young Rittenhouse couple who perpetuated large-scale identity theft on their neighbors to buy designer clothes, Ikea furniture, and tickets to Paris, among others.

Let's take a look at the profile:

Jocelyn Kirsch, 22, and Edward Anderton, 25, both of Chestnut Street near 18th, were arrested Friday on charges of stealing some of their neighbors' identities and establishing credit lines in their names.

The duo also burglarized at least two of their neighbors' apartments and, police allege, they then faked Georgia state driver's licenses so they could open credit card accounts.

Anderton and Kirsch were charged with identity theft, conspiracy, unlawful use of a computer, forgery and a slew of other offenses, said Lt. George Ondrejka of Central Detectives.

Kirsch, a Drexel University student who is a former member of the sorority Delta Phi Epsilon, according to a Drexel Web site, and Anderton, a 2005 University of Pennsylvania graduate who was fired from his analyst job with Lubert-Adler Real Estate Funds, had just tried to pick up a lingerie package they had ordered from England.

Let me make a number of baseless extrapolations:

In this profile, we see the failures of both perpetrators that led to them to such desperate acts. For Anderton, it was being fired from his analyst job. For Kirsch, it was going to a lesser school like Drexel (I kid) and probably being part of only the 2nd-best sorority.

I feel for Anderton. Losing an analyst job is nothing to sneeze at. He must have really sucked at golf. Getting fired, however, is practically a right of passage for young men these days.

For Kirsch, what can one say? There's nothing more humiliating than having less material status than your female friends, save for about a thousand other things.

So, in the end, these people couldn't even wait a few years to get the wealth that they craved. They didn't decide to downgrade their 3,000 a-month apartment for something in the 'ghetto' like Nothern Liberties, or perhaps look for new jobs. Nope, they decided to pray on their neighbors to compete with the other Penn graduates who probably had more connections than Anderton, and thus were superior.

This is our generation. Gotta compete by any means necessary, even if the competition is rigged and there are other games out there to play and win. To people who resemble Kirtch and Anderton, I say: Look at a map. America's a big place you fucking idiot. Is it really that hard to move somewhere in which you don't feel endless social pressure? Close your Facebook profile if you are so embarrassed about getting fired.

So, in the end, embrace failure early and often, turn it into some sort of success, and forget about what other people in your generation think because they all grew up on some sort of prescription drug.

Words to live by.

No Post Today

2007-11-30T09:55:00.000-08:00

Do me a favor and watch the Hostel movies. Hostel 1 preferably. I don't find horror movies worth my time generally, but the first one is great. It's basically about a bunch of asshole guys backpacking through Europe who get tipped off to this Slovakian Hostel where the women will throw themselves at them. The Hostel and women are real, but the main characters start disappearing one-by-one, until the last one remaining eventually finds out that the hostel is just a conduit to send backpackers to a torture factory at the outskirts of town. This factory serves the rich elite, who bid exorbitant sums of money for an individual to torture.

The last remaining character gets captured, but escapes, and eventually dodges the corrupt authorities searching for him throughout the town and gets on a train. He then kills one the torturers, who was leaving the facility on the same train, in the Berlin station bathroom.

SPOILERS

This movie is good because I could imagine this scenario happening to me.

Marijuana Bust: Ways of Combating the Anxiety High

2007-11-29T09:33:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, the Philadelphia Inquirer posted a front page article trumpeting a large-scale suburban Marijuana bust. They confiscated 812,000 dollars worth of weed, along with 12 pounds of mushrooms, in a successful raid that will surely impress the two people left in the United States who still think that marijuana should be taken seriously as a drug.

Link

Now, phawker and philebrity have already slammed the Inquirer for treating this bust like a big deal. I would like to quickly bring attention, however, to the overdose angle of this article, starting with the opening line:

"A potent type of marijuana known as AK47 - so strong that some users are treated in emergency rooms for overdoses - has hit the Philadelphia area."

As Phawker points out, this article doesn't touch upon the drug overdose aspect again until nine paragraphs later, when a cop, not a medical official, is quoted:

"Hospitals are seeing more teens in emergency rooms because of the "overdose, effects and powerfulness of this drug," (narcotics Chief Inspector) Blackburn said, adding that overdoses are not "typical of marijuana, but it's typical of this type of marijuana.""

First off, let's get the obvious out of the way: Nobody fucking overdosed on AK47. Secondly, sweet job Inquirer on writing a 750 word article that only quotes one source. I mean, I know journalists only quote officials like cops, politicians, and aristocrats, but just one?

Could've used more voices other than Blackburn: B-.

Nonetheless, I'd like to use the overdose angle as a jump-off to discuss methods of dealing with the anxiety-high. Now, we know that nobody overdoses on weed, and the "overdoses" that the article references are no doubt the product of some inexperienced teenage girl freaking out, thinking the weed is "laced".

Sorry, but you'd have to be an idiot to waste time and money lacing weed. What people simply experience is an anxiety-high. It's the kind of high that is completely nonthreatening to your health, but freaks you out mentally. It's the type of high can cause a panic attack at the simple thought of, "you fucking idiot; why did you forget the zap-motion count the moment you finally got your chance at wing-back during Fresh/Soph football?". Of course, these 'panic' attacks are nothing, really, but they can make a high more uncomfortable than need be.

Here are the activities that can help ride the anxiety-high out of your system:

1. Driving

Nothing will eviscerate that distracting anxiety than engaging in an activity that will cause certain death if you screw up. Everyone is a little afraid to drive when too high, but after twenty minutes on the road, you've forgotten that you even smoked. There's a reason burn rides never have a designated driver.

2. Video Games

Sorry female readers, as well as male readers who still think they are cool, but I've tried all the methods, and video games are one of the best. Games provide the best outlet to cleanse your paranoia, because they require your active attention while not being intellectually strenuous. Plus, if you are playing a two-player game, it gets two stoners talking smack to each other while avoiding the worst pratfall of an anxiety-high: Conversation.

3. Music/Painting

Another active task that requires little intellectual strain. This one goes below video games, however, because you need to have actual skill to do these things.

4. Drinking shots/beer bongs/chugging/keg stands

Are you at a party where none of cures 1-3 are available? Then commence with getting drunk as fast as possible. It's the quickest way to destroy your weed-induced fear of everyone and get you socializing again.

Here are the activities you don't want to do during an anxiety-high:

1. Conversation

Disgusting. You have to think on your feet and keep the flow going, the worst activity when your mind is off the wall.

2. Movies

A passive activity that requires your full attention. If you are suffering an anxiety-high, you will constantly get distracted by whatever paranoid thoughts a scene or piece of dialogue triggers in your head. In addition to exacerbating your condition, you will also forget the whole movie. Note: Does not apply when watching a movie in a theatre, where you are stuck in one spot and have to pay attention.

3. Writing

Writing when high causes gimmicks like this.

Mailbag!

2007-11-28T06:44:00.000-08:00

Q: Dear Tweener, is there a way to turn crack back into cocaine?

A: Sadly, no. Poor people are to cocaine what Scientology was to Tom Cruise. They take the young vibrant energy of a Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, the unbridled panache of Cole Trickle, the devil-may care sunglasses of Joel Goodsen, and turn it into the better-than-nothing time-killer of white Samurais and special agents with an extra tooth in the middle. No, you'll never get that coke back. Just smoke the crack and next time get your drugs before you go out instead of from the first guy who approaches you as you stumble home.

Q: Tweener, can you handle the truth?

A: This is an interesting question, and one close to our hearts, because The Tweener lives on Jessup street, named after Colonel Jessup, Jack Nicholson's character in A Few Good Men fame. I can handle the truth ten months out of the year and even smoke it during that timeframe; the other two are tricky.

Q: What do I want for Christmas this year?

A: Well, you'll want some new tubes and chambers, as the old ones are getting pretty dingy. You'll want some t-shirts, like maybe some Washington Bullets or Mathletes BS, or maybe just go for the brass ring and get one that says "Tennyson? I was Golfin'!" You'll want a gift certificate to Standard Tap so you can get the steak and eggs this New Years instead of the peach and horseradish breakfast burrito. You'll also want the Legend DVD, which you can leave randomly about as an icebreaker, and an Andrew McCarthy poster (if you can locate this item, please alert the Tweener, as we can't find one anywhere). Finally, toiletries, you've been looking a bit ragged lately.

Ignorant Comments Day

2007-11-27T09:44:00.000-08:00

Dear regular readers,

What I love about life, and when I say 'life', I mean 'internet comment pages', is the stuff that people post that they couldn't get away with in the real world: Casual racism, misogyny, persecution of spam-bots etc. In my mind, there's nothing better than reading a news article about a murder by the El-Salvadorean MS-13 gang, and then seeing in the comments page:

"That's what happens when you live near black people".

Ignorant comments happen everywhere. Whether it be the most generic anti-Bush/Cheney blog, to the most obscure Sebadoh message board on the interwebs, people's dumbass voices will be heard.

Except on this blog.

Seriously, I'm very disappointed about the low-level of ignorance displayed in the comments here. I mean, you all don't leave any comments in the first place, but I thought that at least I would've caught a break so far. Why hasn't some idiot googled "Mumia", caught my post and started calling me a 'libtard" before actually reading it. It just isn't fair.

So, today is a celebration of ignorant comments. I encourage all my readers to say something ignorant about me, society, Lacrosse, the price of raw oysters, or anything in between. Everyone will given one day of amnesty to post as they please.

And btw, this post was financed by the Zionists who want to impose an Israeli dictatorship across America they control all the media along with the illuminati BUSHCO is just a puppet if you elect a DEMON-crat things will still be the same it's time to take arms in revolution remember 1967 Pinochet coup Blovia forever!

The Game

2007-11-26T09:18:00.000-08:00

Over Thanksgiving weekend, my old friends and I couldn't stop talking about it. It was a topic of conversation everywhere, from the bars, to the afterparties, to the drunk-driving on the way the way home. We argued about its merits, its flaws, and the ultimate effectiveness towards improving your life. Yes; We were talking about The Game.

I know what you're thinking: The Game is an underrated Michael Douglas film in which a clever concept eventually comes undone through a series of increasingly unbelievable plot developments. Nevertheless, the movie is buoyed by the strong supporting roles of Sean Penn and James Rebhorn.

I'd certainly say that's a fair assessment.

What we were actually talking about, however, was The Game, or the art of picking up women. You see, The Game seems to occupy the mind of every guy these days, what with the "Pick-up Artist" on VH1, the tons of books available on the subject, and the general feeling of terror amongst guys at the thought of trying to pick up a girl ANYWHERE but a place where alchohol is involved. And in some ways, I don't blame guys for feeling this way. Do you girls see the way you carry yourself in public these days? It seems like one is more likely to get tasered talking to a girl in line at a grocery store than a phone number.

Yes, I know I should sign-up for a Yoga class.

Forgetting that, however, let's analyze the rules of The Game: They are depressing. There is more fucking red-tape to practicing Game than the worst Soviet Bureaucracy.

Let's see: "Approach your target at a 45 degree angle within first three seconds of entering the bar. No slouching, no hands in your pockets, hold your drink at the waist, open your about eyes 2/3rds of the way while giving a half-smile. Swagger up to her like John Wayne in True Grit, NOT John Wayne in the Searchers. Deliver a line which slightly insults her while demonstrating your superior social value and act like you only have minute to talk even though you plan to stick around."

Loosely translated, This basically means "act like you're in a good mood". If you are consciously thinking about these rules while you are trying to execute them, you have probably already failed.

According to the practitioners of The Game, these methods are all meant to set-off a woman's 'attractiveness recepticons' or some bullshit like that. Here is the basic set-up of how the attractiveness recepticons operate in the female brain who lives in Philadelphia:

Attractiveness recepticons, accompanied by complex about not living in New York, as demonstrated in the female brain:

So, good "game" simply means pushing through to these attractiveness recepticons. I don't really practice Game that much, but I will give you some pointers that guarantee absolutely no success, but are fun.

Constant stream of 'negging': By now, you have all probably heard of the 'neg' concept, where in the flow of conversation with a girl, you make some comment that slightly lowers her value without insulting her too much. Examples include "those pants look like they are perfect for a flood" or "I hear McClellan is your favorite Union Civil War General. Personally, I think he can eat a dick". I, however, advocate a constant stream of negging that never ends:

Me: "You've got something stuck in your eye"
Her: "Oh really?"
Me: "You just spit on me when you said that"
Her: "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to"
Me: "What kind of broken dialect are you speaking in anyway?"
Her: "I'm from Cincinnati"
Me: "I've always wanted to nuke Ohio"
Her: "Who in the hell are you anyway?"
Me: "What an abrasive question to ask someone"

Being Unemployed: Let's just skip The Game here and go straight to a female's Florence Nightingale Complex. Girls always talk about wanting to 'save' a guy from something, whether it be assholish behavior, heroin abuse, or both. According to most girls, being unemployed is extremely unattractive. I've found just the opposite, however. Indeed, there is nothing more appealing to a girl than hearing the sweet phrases "I just got fired" or "I'm not really looking that hard" from a guy. Many an eyebrow has been perked at these comments. There's just something about failure that gets a girl ready to tear your clothes off. So, to all my guys out there: Stop dividing your internet/work time from a 60/40 ratio, and move straight to 100/0. After you get canned, you'll won't be able to fend the hot ass off.

That's all I got because I'm probably about to get fired.

Europe pt. 3: Russia

2007-11-21T10:19:00.001-08:00

Thank god this infernal series is almost over. The good news, however, is that we are covering the granddady of them all today: Russia.

I've spent a total of about a month and a half in Russia, starting in the Spring of 1999 on exchange, and going back twice, with the final trip in January of 2001. What I've leaned is that Russia is a glorious contradiction. In some ways, post-communist Russia resembles the absolute worst elements of capitalism (rampant materialism and oligarchiasm), yet the average person is grounded with a sense of morality and humility that is unmatched in most western societies, particularly the USA. Case in point: If you walk on the street in Russia acting all loud and arrogant, taking up all of the sidewalk, you will be regarded as an irredeemable piece of shit by everyone. The rule is keep your mouth shut, your expression straight, and keep moving.

Behind closed doors, however, Russians like to play hard. Hard drinking (of course), hard fucking, and hard violence is the norm. Your average Russian does not go to the 'pub' or 'bar-hop', and the clubs are usually nothing more than ridiculously overpriced havens for mafia and indifferent fashionistas. Most of the hanging out, then, is done at someone's tiny flat in some neighborhood outside the center of Moscow. Behind closed doors, people are warm, intellectual, creative, and if they are women, hot as hell (until the age of 35). There is the specter of violence hanging over everything, however, as you never know when an armed heroin addict might sneak into your apartment building behind you, or if a gang of Chechnyians might kidnap you off the street, or if the police might try to extract a bribe from you. Trouble with the police usually only occurs if you look Chechnyan, so you are all in the clear.

Did I mention the warm personalities? Well, you have to be careful of that too. Russians are a manipulative bunch of fuckers, and although they are quicker to welcome you than the average American, they are also cash-trapped people who will try to take advantage of you if you portray weakness. I believe it was De La Soul who once said, "it's a dog eat dog competition".

If you are a decent looking American guy who is not a total fool, Russian girls will love the shit out of you. Of course, finding the right context for meeting a Russian girl is very difficult, because you if go 'out' in a Russian city, it'll be filled with mafia-connected girls whose status is so high, they could give two shits about you. Your best bet would be to go on exchange in High School, like myself, and meet some nice middle class girl. This is not going to happen to you. I'd recommend learning some Russian and going to Brighten Beach, Brooklyn, Northeast Philly, or somewhere in the Washington DC area where there are Russians (sorry DC readers, but I don't know where your Russians are at.)

A sidenote: What is it with girls that have Eastern European blood in any context? They are either the coolest girls you meet, who are talented, smart and beautiful, or they are completely vapid and materialistic...Contradictions again.

Now; to the two Russian cities that I've been to:

St. Petersburg - Washington, D.C. for the freezing set

St. Petersburg is a close kin of D.C., due to both the fake Parisian 'charm' in their respective architectural lay-outs and the sheer amount of hatred and satire these cities have inspired from those who have lived there. There's a reason Dostoevsky, Gogol, and Pushkin set most of their famous stories in St. Petersburg, and not Moscow: To them, St. Petersburg represented every vile element in Western society that Russia falsely aspired to, from the forced European appearance, to the vast, status-obsessed government bureaucracy...Sound familiar? Most Americans look at DC the same way, except substitute "American" for "Western" in the previous sentence. Well, I guess there's a whole mess of substitutions to make in that previous sentence to complete the DC analogy, but who the fuck do you think I am? Don Nelson?!

Nonetheless, like DC, People outside of St. Petersburg are quick to bash it. And like DC, People who live in St. Petersburg are eager to move out. But in the end, no one can stop talking about either city, and beneath the bullshit, there are plenty of redeemable elements about both places. The only problem I have is this: Why did St. Petersburg get all of the good writers out his deal? Who the fuck does DC have for great art, Fugazi?!!

Quick sidenote: St. Petersburg was the absolute coldest place I've ever been.

Moscow - No Red Square for you

Quick facts about Moscow:

-Contraband street vendors: I once got Ok Computer here for 20 cents. Cigarettes on the street go for about 30 cents a pack.

-Ridiculously overpiced Department Stores: I once got the Verve's Urban Hymes for fifty dollars. Yeah; that's stupid, but I had just gotten laid and absolutely needed to hear "Lucky Man".

-The food is indeed terrible. God, Russians can't cook. Their American-style supermarkets just don't feel right, either. Also understand that whenever you read some article on Russia gastronomical revolution, those cushy food critics are talking about meals that are upwards of 150 dollars.

-the subways are nicer and cleaner than the actual city:

http://www.cla.purdue.edu/fll/Russian/RussianMaymester2005/Moscow/Moscow-Metro_station.jpg

I've go to get back to work. Happy Russian Day.

Tweener Guide to Europe Pt. 2: The UK

2007-11-20T09:00:00.000-08:00

Now, to the places where I've spent the most time: Starting with the United Kingdom

The 2002-03 school was spent in London and Norwich. It was a damn good time. With that said, I'm not writing a single thing about England. The reason being that although English are great, I hate their guts and everything about their culture. Oh; I can hear you now: "What about The Kinks?!" You fool. Go to any Englishman's place, and you won't find a copy of Village Green Preservation Society. Instead, it is only you: an arrogant, irrelevant, and poor 20-something American white guy, who cares about that album.

A couple of things about England:

1.) Everything is open from only 11 am to 2 pm everyday. As a consequence, you really have to plan things ahead, from drinking to shopping to museum-ing. It is said that places in England only stay open this long because it synchs up perfectly with soccer: An hour to drink beforehand, an hour and 50 minute total match time, and ten minutes to stuff down and after-match beef pie before stomping that Blackburn fan's face in.

2.) English cuisine is actually underrated. Let's defer to George Orwell on this one:

We have heard a good deal of talk in recent years about the desirability of attracting foreign tourists to this country. It is well known that England’s two worst faults, from a foreign visitor’s point of view, are the gloom of our Sundays and the difficulty of buying a drink.
Both of these are due of fanatical minorities who will need a lot of quelling, including extensive legislation. But there is one point on which public opinion could bring about a rapid change for the better: I mean cooking.
It is commonly said, even by the English themselves, that English cooking is the worst in the world. It is supposed to be not merely incompetent, but also imitative, and I even read quite recently, in a book by a French writer, the remark: ‘The best English cooking is, of course, simply French cooking.’
Now that is simply not true, as anyone who has lived long abroad will know, there is a whole host of delicacies which it is quite impossible to obtain outside the English-speaking countries. No doubt the list could be added to, but here are some of the things that I myself have sought for in foreign countries and failed to find.
First of all, kippers, Yorkshire pudding, Devonshire cream, muffins and crumpets. Then a list of puddings that would be interminable if I gave it in full: I will pick out for special mention Christmas pudding, treacle tart and apple dumplings. Then an almost equally long list of cakes: for instance, dark plum cake (such as you used to get at Buzzard’s before the war), short-bread and saffron buns. Also innumerable kinds of biscuit, which exist, of course, elsewhere, but are generally admitted to be better and crisper in England.
Then there are the various ways of cooking potatoes that are peculiar to our own country. Where else do you see potatoes roasted under the joint, which is far and away the best way of cooking them? Or the delicious potato cakes that you get in the north of England? And it is far better to cook new potatoes in the English way — that is, boiled with mint and then served with a little melted butter or margarine — than to fry them as is done in most countries.
Then there are the various sauces peculiar to England. For instance, bread sauce, horse-radish sauce, mint sauce and apple sauce; not to mention redcurrant jelly, which is excellent with mutton as well as with hare, and various kinds of sweet pickle, which we seem to have in greater profusion than most countries.
What else? Outside these islands I have never seen a haggis, except one that came out of a tin, nor Dublin prawns, nor Oxford marmalade, nor several other kinds of jam (marrow jam and bramble jelly, for instance), nor sausages of quite the same kind as ours.
Then there are the English cheeses. There are not many of them but I fancy Stilton is the best cheese of its type in the world, with Wensleydale not far behind. English apples are also outstandingly good, particularly the Cox’s Orange Pippin.
And finally, I would like to put in a word for English bread. All the bread is good, from the enormous Jewish loaves flavoured with caraway seeds to the Russian rye bread which is the colour of black treacle. Still, if there is anything quite as good as the soft part of the crust from an English cottage loaf (how soon shall we be seeing cottage loaves again?) I do not know of it.

Pretty hungry, aren't you? Or did you just close my browser because that was too long?

3.) To the North of England is Scotland, which contains a city called Edinburgh. It is a stunningly amazing place that looks incredible from wherever you are standing at any moment...Whatever. Edinburgh also had a record store called Fopps, which was the best record store that I've ever been to.

Edinburgh - Wake me up when I'm supposed to care about this spellbinding city

4.) Students in England are dirt poor. I mean, really. If you want to out to the pubs with your English friends, you have to get out a calender and pick a date two months ahead so they can start saving their money.

5.) JUST BECAUSE AN ENGLISH GIRL CALLS YOU 'DARLING' OR 'LOVE', DOES NOT MEAN YOU CAN FUCK HER RIGHT THEN AND THERE. IT'S JUST A CUSTOM.

6.) When the english ask you, "you alright?", it generally means "how are you?", not "are you ok?". If you don't like this particular phrasing, simply respond the way I do: "Yeah, I'm alright...YOU ALRIGHT?"

So, that's the UK and England. I can honestly say that other than the countless great times having intelligent, reasoned conversations with my friends about a variety of topics, England was a total nightmare.

A Tweener Thanksgiving Week pt. 1: Guide to Europe

2007-11-19T09:30:00.000-08:00

We don't know about you, but we here at the Tweener are fucking exhausted right now. Chalk it up to a 9-5 combined with three hour journalism classes three days a week, homework, blogging, "reporting", weekend debauchery, and we are just about beat. Thank god for thanksgiving break, then, where I can go home to sweet Baltimore and not worry about anything for four days.

Since this week offers relaxation, however, I'm going to break convention and take you all back to a time where I ruled the universe: 2003. It was a time of travel, music, courderoy jackets, foreign love, and lost wallets. Over the past weekend, my annointed princess of 2003 wrote a post* that inspired me to take a trip back, and in the first of this series, I'm taking you through europe baby!

*Take everything she says at face value.

Guide to Europe

To be honest, I don't know shit about Europe. Oh; sure, I've BEEN to Europe, including the following cities: Amsterdam, London, Edinburgh, Munich, Budapest, Venice, Rome, Florence, Barcelona, Paris, Moscow, and St. Petersburg. About half the cities on this list I was only in for 2-3 days, and they can be summarily dismissed as follows:

Munich- A nice place...Can someone help me out here?

Munich- An old, wonderful Bavarian town with a humungous park in the middle of it. To be honest, we indulged in a hotel room and hardly left it except to go to beer halls and the tourist attractions, which included...err...Some kind of church or something with a big tower. My lack of anything interesting to say about this city hilariously manifested itself in a conversation with an outrageously hot German student in my graduate program. You can pretty much take this paragraph verbatim and apply it to what I said to her. As a result, she’s not flashing me those big smiles anymore.

The Danube River - All we wanted was some gatorade

Budapest- It was day 9 in our month-long trip through Europe in the Spring of 03. We were suffering, for you see, the non-alcoholic drink selection in Europe is terrible. I mean, all you’ve got is soda, sub-tropicana orange juice, and mineral water. But there it was: Arrayed on the banks of the sparkling Danube River, the Gatorade beckoned. As we got closer, however, we realized that the area was roped off for a Gatorade-sponsored triathalon. Fucking Triatheletes.

The other experience in Budapest included getting berated by a waitress at a Hungarian restaurant for being American. At least that’s what I think happened, as we couldn’t understand her non-American language. We sure showed her, however, as we eat all of the complementary bread and high-tailed it out of there!

Vienna - soul crushing

Vienna- Ragtime street musicians, Intimidating 18th-century Imperial architecture, free public transportation, swaths of parkland filled with gorgeous vistas, excellent local cuisine, and a city brimming with a rich cultural heritage everywhere you look. Yes; Vienna is as boring as it sounds. The only way I was able to fight the terrible boredom was by having a friend in the city who could show me to the parts that weren’t drowning in the wrist-slitting ‘pleasures’ of culture and heritage.

Italy-a hellhole

Venice- If you aren’t married, don’t even bother. The food also sucks. In fact, just understand this mantra: Just because you are in Italy does not mean you will eat well wherever you go.

Rome- Italians are secretly the biggest assholes in Europe. I honestly don’t know how the French got their reputation for being rude, because I found them to be moderate, whilst almost every American I know who has been to Italy noticed that the Italians hate our asses, unless you are wearing a Che Gueverra t-shirt. Apparently, Argentine people are descended from Italians, which explains the love for Che. Italians should thank their luck stars that they get to claim Calvino.

Rome is a dirty city where you can really ‘feel’ the history..

Just watch this movie

Barcelona- Be sure to schedule your trip during anytime other than a holiday. I found this out the hard way when the whole place become the “the city that sleeps their asses off” when I was there at the of April.

Part 2 tomorrow...

Ruminations

2007-11-16T09:48:00.000-08:00

Philadelphia Art Museum
If you work here, it's a great place to pick up girls. A friend of mine has told me this. He may actually write for this blog.

Johnny Brenda's
If Philly hipsters are so poor, how can they afford to drink here?

Fixed-gear bikes
You're gonna die

Cecil B. Moore
Temple's plan for revitalizing this street on one block: Put a Border's next to a pawn shop. I'm sure this is going to end well.

Harrison Ridley, Jr.
Temple professor and Philadelphia Jazz historian. Winner of 80 awards. Consultant to the Library of Congress. Placed in tiny office with no window.

Corner Store on Ridge and 23rd Street
I broke the color barrier as the first white guy to visit there in fifteen years. Even the asian owners got uncomfortable.

Female crackhead who followed me for two blocks outside the store
Listen: I gave you one dollar, then you asked me for two. If I give you two dollars, then you're gonna ask me for four. If I give you four dollars, you're gonna ask me for eight. Just get a gun and rob me next time.

Lorenzo's/Lorenzo & Son's/DeLorenzos
Lorenzo's.

Pho 75/Pho Nam
Pho 75

Getting away with throwing a halloween party on Friday, November 9th
This happened over the past weekend. "It's a pop culture party, come as your favorite pop figure!" Nice try. You know what happened? I put together a killer costume only to see five people there. The other people voiced their displeasure by not coming. Listen: It's either the weekend before or the weekend after halloween, never the weekend after-after. You think it's fun to put together a third costume? How can you throw a pseudo costume party two weeks after halloween? The bum camped outside our apartment put it best when we walked out in our costumes to go to the party: "Uhhh.....Happy Thanksgiving?"

Sorry to the person who threw this party, but you blew it. Please come to my next party

The wrong album was embedded in the last post

2007-11-15T18:01:00.000-08:00

it has been corrected.

Youngin' band in the game: The War on Drugs

2007-11-14T19:48:00.000-08:00

Flash back to the year 2001: An 18 year-old Dickinson College freshman guitar phenom gets invited to play in a band with like, the three other guys in school who hated String Cheese Incident. We had four or five practices total, never played a show, and no one really gave a fuck because it was the end of the school year anyway. We weren't all that good, which is what happens when you play together four times. That 18-year-old phenom (me) also realized he wasn't so phenomenal, because playing along to Coltrane records doesn't really translate to playing in your first 'rock' band.

Anyway, the lead singer in the band was someone who you could tell was just destined for stardom. Then he started singing, and we all cried at the awfulness. There was this OTHER guitarist, however, who was pretty good.

That guitarist is now fronting what will be the best band to come out of Philly in a hot minute, The War on Drugs.

You're probably saying, "well I can't fucking google THAT"..."War on Drugs Philly band" will do the trick.

I've embedded their first EP in this post. It is about a billion years old (year and a half), but their first full-length is coming out in the spring.

How do you describe the War on Drugs? There's a stock way to do this so far: "is sounds like [sporadically fashionable male songwriter legend] crossed with [late 80s/early 90s shoegazer band]". I've tried to think of alternative way to describe them, but it just doesn't work. If you like the War on Drugs, the rest of your life will be spent reading these types of clippings:

-Like Bruce Springsteen crossed with My Bloody Valentine
-like Tom Petty fronting Swervedriver
-Like Bob Dylan eating lunch with the Cocteau Twins, and at this lunch, they decided to COMBINE THEIR SOUNDS.

Anyway, you can see why this description is appealing. The most important thing of all, however, is that these guys bring the muscle live: Two drummers, a pretty good bassist, and the great Kurt Ville playing the busiest lead guitar since.......uhhh..........*searches record collection for analogy*.....Nas' Illmatic.

In all seriousness, these guys are at once loose and heavy on stage. That's better the typical Philadelphia indie sound, titled "keep the noise level down so our friends can talk to each other at our shows".

So listen to this EP, which is more subdued than they usually sound. There's also a youtube live clip that I tried to embed, but I can't tell whether it was successful because temple's computers are retarded.

Temple University: Stunning Observations

2007-11-13T09:02:00.000-08:00

Today, I am at Temple University. The history of Temple University is well known: Some 60-70 years ago, a cadre of intelligent Jews in Philly started their own university to circumvent UPenn's newly-formed height and general "football physique" requirements. At present day, Temple is a successful public university with several nationally respected departments and an elite 8 basketball program; albeit six years ago. Meanwhile, everyone from Penn is still superior.

I had shocking observations while walking through campus today:

People are here are attractive

About four out of every ten. This was very surprising, because it generally common knowledge that attractive people only go to Ivy League schools, Kenyon, and Oberlin, or anywhere in the NESCAC conference.

If you are the attractive person's less-intelligent sibling, there's always Centennial Conference, But never Temple or any communist public school.

So, I learned an eye-opening lesson today: You can be a mediocre student, or simply have less money to go to a private school, and still be attractive. Overall, I think it's good that less wealthy people can experience the pleasures of attractiveness. Although they probably still won't have the same status in life as people in those elite schools, which is to be frowned upon, I think it's cute that these people go about putting on clothes and washing their hair everyday in hopes of doing something.

It's very diverse here

There's that pesky communism again. All over campus, there are gangstas, terrorists, and asians. This is what happens when you let the state takeover and give more people a chance for education. Next thing you know, the liberal media, in collaboration with big government, is going to employ all of these people in a 24/7 communist propaganda news station that's going to be plastered on every TV. It will teach you revisionist history, like how black jazz musicians wore suits, General McCarthur DIDN'T successfully drop four atomic bombs on China during the Korean War, and how soccer wasn't invented by Karl Marx.

It order to fight back, I announce that we start our own WHITE cultural channel. What's that? A channel celebrating Woody Guthrie, Saul Bellow, Norman Mailer, Schoenenberg, Appalachian Folk, Bill Evans, Guided By Voices, William Burroughs and others?

NO, those guys were all communists or jews. The WHITE cultural channel will primarily concern the history of defense contractors in Northern Virginia and the condos they live in.

There are many lunch carts here, and one bee

Motherfucking bee swirling around my motherfucking gyro. I thought the bees were extinct? See, this is the result of eating Greek communist food. I'm allergic to bees, and speaking of which, what is the deal with people saying, "don't aggravate it, it'll sting you"?. What the fuck am I supposed to do then, let it sit on my lunch and do nothing? If try to grab my sandwich, won't that be "aggravating" it to? What exactly is aggravation for a bee anyway!? Swating at it? watching too much sports? Playing the Lox after 11 PM? Typical liberal inaction in the face of the insect menace

"I got a tickle in my anus!": The Tweener's Fall TV Roundup

2007-11-12T10:25:00.000-08:00

Yeah, we know, a preview probably would have been more helpful, but hey, you get what you pay for. Here at The Tweener offices, we watch a ton of TV. I mean the TV is always on. But television shows? What, like Murphy Brown? CBS? Should I get tested for that?

Ok, I'm exaggerating. I don't mess with tests. And I do know a few shows, mostly those on HBO, which have two just plain safeco huge advantages over network shows. For one, they're on Sundays. I can remember Sundays. I wake up drunk, watch my footie then my football, and obsess over how badly I wish it was Saturday so I could run a do-over on last night and maybe remember the ethnicity of that man who was touching me. Out of the five shittier days of the week, Sunday I can remember. But Tuesday at 9pm? Please. I'm not an accountant for christ's sake. And secondly, NO GODDAMN COMMERCIALS. I'm no hobo, I've got a lot of channels; if you run a commercial on me, it won't be until the Predator blows himself up that I remember I forgot to check in with the remainder of My Name is Jason Lee and Dogma Sucked. This is why sports has the advantage: 1. you don't have to catch every damn second, 2. you can mute that junk and pump up the Bob Mould, 3. most tv shows are awful anyway. Still, though, we're trying, and when there are no football games on, no soccer games on, no basketball games on, no hockey games on, no baseball games on, no one wants to play Pro Evo, none of Barcelona, Aliens, Dave, The Hudsucker Proxy, Fear, The Departed (has a movie ever fallen from Oscar winner to crappy stoner flick faster?), The Squid and the Whale, Commando, Romancing the Stone, WALL STREET, Navy Seals, Kindergarten Cop, Last Days of Disco, Higher Learning, Metropolitan, Knocked Up, Annie Hall, or anything else on any of the movie channels, here are some shows we watch sometimes:

It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia: This one gets all the credit. It's brilliant. When I was sixteen, jokes about smoking tree almost always hit the spot. Now its jokes about cocaine. Who knew?

Friday Night Lights: I liked this show last year partly because it was free to watch online. I was annoyed when I heard it was going to be on Fridays at 9 or something this year, but I realized it actually works out well, because it's not like we go out until eleven anyway, the football scenes are better when drunk, and it shows that alcoholics, idiots, and paraplegics can get the hottest girls in school, which is pretty much the confidence I need on a Friday night.

30 Rock: Pretty funny. The posters in Tracy Morgan's dressing room are the real stars of the show.

Curb Your Enthusiasm: A bit formulaic by now but still hilarious in its sixth run. Don't miss the season finale last night!

The Wire: The best show ever returns in January. Until then, is Rasheed Wallace on tv somewhere?

Diary of the unemployed

2007-11-09T09:53:00.000-08:00

9:30 am: Woken up by alarm, which you set for 9:30 because it is not too early, and not too late to make you look lazy. Plus; it gives you ample time to apply for jobs. The clock is placed far away from your bed to ensure you will have to get up to turn it off.

9:32 am: Finally succeed in making it over to the alarm to turn it off so you can go back to sleep.

10:37 am: Begrudgingly get up.

10:51 am: Make pot of coffee, and commence with the best part of your day: The first cigarette. It is savored because all subsequent cigarettes bring diminishing returns, or because you can't afford another pack.

11:01 am: With cup of coffee, surf the following websites if football season is going on: espn.com, footballoutsiders.com, deadspin.com, cnnsi.com, and your team's website.

If football season is not going on: espn.com (for other sports), footballoutsiders.com (in case there is an offseason article), deadspin.com (for other sports), and the following Gawker related sites: Gawker, wonkette, gridskipper, and deadspin (again). Also, take a look at Slate to get "real" news.

12:11 pm: Hunger calls. If you have ramen or easy mac at the house, eat it. If not, take a shower.

12:33 pm: If in Philly or Brooklyn, leave apartment to go to corner deli and get a reuben sandwich. If in Hyattsville, hop in the car and go to California tortilla or some bullshit equivalent. Even though it is only a mile away, it will still take you an hour and a half.

1:01 pm: You are now faced with the classic choice of unemployment: Apply for jobs, or frantically search for your roommates weed that you know he is hiding from you.

1:28 pm: Hidden in the cat food bag! Score!

1:40 pm: Ahhh, now what to do with your high? Grant Theft Auto? Whit Stillman movies? A short story?

1:51 pm: Finally settle on what to do: Surf the same websites you did three hours ago for new content.

2:04 pm: After finishing reading, pace around for the next hour wondering what would have happened if you had actually taken that hot indian/asian/canadian/insert exotic ethnicity girl to your senior year halloween party.

3:00 pm: 4 and a half hours into your day and you haven't applied for a single job. Spend the next half hour wondering why you continue this pattern every day.

3:39 pm: Finally start looking at jobs on Monster and Craigslist.

3:56 pm: Find a decent position on Monster, but it requires a cover letter; a big turnoff.

5:15 pm: Finish cover letter and send.

5:45 pm: Roommate gets home and notices unfinished weed in the bowl you forgot to clear out. Lie your ass off and consider not packing so much next time.

Editors note: Apologies to my former roommates Brandon and Owen.

A celebration of unemployment: Part 1, the resume

2007-11-08T09:41:00.000-08:00

On Tuesday, I took a day off from work to interview people for one of my journalism classes. Since my interview fell through, I had a whole day to experience one of my favorite pastimes: Being unemployed. Since I graduated college in 04', I've developed a fairly decent unemployment resume:

Jobless Associate, Brooklyn, NY, August 04-early November 04
When I graduated in late May of 04, I made a half-assed decision to move to New York a week later and "I don't know, get a job in publishing or something". Unless you are completely ignorant, you can understand that is a terrible strategy. Unfortunately, I didn't sleep with anyone who could get me a job, and after the last temp assignment ended in August, it was a whole lot of nothing for an entire Fall before I moved back home to Baltimore (which only lasted a day before I got a job in DC. Remember that kiddies, you can get work in DC, that's why people actually live there.)

Unemployed Coordinator, Hyattsville, MD, February 2006-March 2006
Otherwise known at the "roaring 20s" of my unemployment experience, this stint in the DC suburb was awash in cash and decadence. After quitting my job on good terms, I took a step back, looked at my bank account and realized, "holy shit! my company forgot to deduct income taxes, possibly out of sheer incompetence!". I figured it was only a matter of time before the feds came after me, so I commenced to spending that money. you can guess what followed:

-Gambling binges in Atlantic City.
-Completely unnecessary deluxe suite at the Four Seasons hotel in Philly for Saint Paddy's day 06.
-An authentic Ed Reed jersey for my then-roommate Owen in compensation for stealing his adderrall to facilitate said gambling binges.
-Actually buying the paintings of friends.
-Possibly the most wasteful use of money in recorded history: Amtrak tickets.

To top it all off, I managed to secure a good job amidst all of this. After getting the job, however, things were more close to the vest. The lesson I take from that experience is this: If you ever have enough disposable cash to get an Acela Express roundtrip ticket, savor the moment.

Shitcanned Director, Philadelphia, September 06-November 06
Ah hem....That job I just mentioned that I got in March of 06? I did little except surf gridskipper until they fired me, but they were also a terrible company to work for and I apologize for nothing. I actually don't need to apologize anyway, because the guy who fired me is dead. How's your attempt to blackball me going in hell? bwahahahahahah.

Anyway, while the Hyatsville unemployment experience was fast and decadent, the Philly one was that of a wizened unemployment veteran taking his sweet time before going back to the world. Typical voicemail messages: "Hey Scott, we want you to interview to be part of this biz dev team"...NOPE. "Hey Scott, we have a Sales Associate position open"...NOPE. I also turned the tables on employers in the few interviews I did go to, asking them what kind of performance measures they had in place. You should've seen their startled faces.

The above paragraph was a total lie.

Eventually, I used this unemployment experience to apply to journalism school and settle on the job with the best payment-to-easy-work ratio.

Tomorrow: Diary of the unemployed.

You Could Really Get Hammered In Pittsburgh

2007-11-07T10:44:00.000-08:00

Although I've only been there twice for a total of eleven days, I can say without reservation that while I don't LOVE Pittsburgh, I'm pretty firmly in like with it. I know everyone talks a lot of shit about provincialism, hard-working blue collar assholes, and smash-mouth football, but unless you're the kind of person who drives out to Tyler Park on the weekends, the most you're going to notice of that stuff is on the shuttle from the airport. From the campus area to Shady Side to the South Side, Pittsburgh is a lovely mix of jaundiced intellectualism and two-fisted, umm, smart-drinking. Just a few notes, maybe more after my next trip in April:

1) THE PITT ID: The University of Pittsburgh must be loaded, because every student's ID is like a golden candy wrapper that gets you endless free bus rides, free admission to all the museums - which are lovely - and a percentage off at lots of restaurants. They'll even give you a copy of Microsoft Vista if you have one. Seriously. The second easiest way to get one is probably to mug a drunken freshman on Forbes Ave late on a Friday night. The easiest is to be in their library science program.

2) CHEAP DRINKS: Maybe next time I'll break down individual bars, but the important note is that the drinks are cheep-cheep-cheep. Most bars there I can get a round of one Budweiser and one shot of Jameson for five bucks. I haven't yet and maybe never will remember the cab ride home from a Saturday night out in Pittsburgh. At the Garage Door Saloon - a fine establishment - some guy came up next to me and ordered a double rum and coke and a double red bull and vodka. Total price, Philadelphians and New Yorkers? 10 dollars. TEN FUCKING DOLLARS FOR FOUR SHOTS.

3) ARCHITECTURE: [serious Tweener] The architecture in Pittsburgh pretty much blows away the product in Philadelphia, and even New York, if consistency is the measure. They're helped by the hilly landscape and rivers, which offers interesting opportunities, but from the classic buildings to the modern and combos, almost every site is eye-catching, clean, and refreshing. Except that faux castle monstrosity along the river. [/serious Tweener]

Well, that concludes this sub-average post. Go to Pittsburgh, but remember that not every city's signature food is all that. Coleslaw and french fries on my sandwich? What is this Standard Tap circa 2027?

Mumia Abu Jamal: The Real Story

2007-11-06T09:54:00.000-08:00

"Political power grows out the barrel of the gun"

-Mumia Abu-Jamal, Bob Marley, Chairman Mao, Stalin, Jesus, Bradley Noell of Sublime (attributed to him by fans)

Overview

Some say history is written by winners about the winning ways of the winsome. The story of the alleged murder of police officer Daniel Faulkner by Mumia Abu-Jamal in Philadelphia in 1981, however, is history written by a veritable rainbow coalition. Black Activists, Police officers, campus leftists, Pennsylvania prosecutors, Midwestern conservatives, French socialists, Mexican Playmakers, Zach De La Rocha and Woody Harelson: All have their own version of the events. None of these ninjas actually saw what happened, however, which is why I'm going to you the real story of what..........

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A Weekend Recap

2007-11-05T09:58:00.000-08:00

1.) South Philly party on Friday. This marked the end of a succession of three straight weekends of parties with completely different crowds (hello popularity!). The first one was a mixture/tweener party, the second was a Rittenhouse WASP Halloween party, and the last was good ole' fashioned hipster throwdown at the house of former members of the defunct band, the Beat Jamz. I guess it's appropriate that the first party was the best. A comparison of these parties would be the basis for another post, but I do have one thought on the hipster party:

I never get drunk enough at them. Maybe it is the prospect of trying to keep things close to the vest in the face of these intimidating hipsters, what with their "t-shirts" and "electric instruments" ushering in a new paradigm of cool. More likely, however, is the fact that I never see people wasted at them. I think that this is a problem. If you provide a keg, you are producing a social contract that says it is ok to get at least a little ignorant. Why is nobody taking the bait? In fact, this milquetoast thing is getting on my nerves. I vow to completely blow-up the next party in a spectacular haze of black-outedness.

2.) Speaking of blowing things up, a friend notified me this weekend of the event that most likely inspired the Calexico DVD incident. Let's just say that although I still need a few additional details, I made it out of this one looking pretty good.

3.) Because we hardly got drunk at the party on Friday, we were able to watch the second half of the Arsenal-Man U match at Fado. Let me tell you: Standing in a bar at 9:00 am with hundreds of hungover American soccer fans is surreal. At first, you are surprised to hear everyone chanting the names of all the players, because up to that point, you've spent your entire time of soccer fandom talking about the sport with the one other person you've met that gives a shit about it. To hear an entire crowd of people fired up is pretty awesome. Even though Fado is a chain restaurant, they've carved out a pretty attractive niche with all the satellite soccer channels and the all-day Irish breakfast...Props to them.

4.) There was that other football game yesterday, featuring the one team that has a choker quarterback who only won a superbowl because his coach prays to god all the time, and the other team with the QB who is a father of a bunch of illegitimate children. Both teams played hard.

Red Bull Art of the Can

2007-11-02T09:25:00.000-07:00

We just found out about the Red Bull Art of the Can exhibit at F.U.E.L. in Old City. It started on October 19th. This exhibit ends today, so hopefully I can make it out there in time.

Red Bull's slogan for this exhibit/competition: "what will a full can inspire you to create out of empty one?"...Genius. Let's face it: Americans love stimulants.

Back in the day, you had two things: Caffeine and cocaine. I guess Kerouac, Johnny Cash and all those beatnik guys also had some pseudo adderall junk that probably felt like Stackers 2. Nonetheless, the options were limited. Caffeine was the drug of the masses, cocaine the rich.

Nowadays, there are no lines to be drawn. Everyone from any walk-of-life is awash in the jaw-clenching pleasures of stimulants. First it was ginseng, then everyone realized ginseng did absolutely nothing, so ginseng was followed by the ADHD drug/energy drink revolution. As a result of this, people are multi-taskers these days. Seriously; Does anyone have just one job anymore? It's office job by day, grad school by night. House painter by day, skate-boarder by mid-day. Freelancer by morning, pizza delivery man by afternoon, noise band by early evening, adderrall dealer by late evening (to oneself).

There's a reason we all have multiple occupations: America is kicking our asses. Right now, you're probably burning both your bachelors diploma and a bunch of dollar bills in a makeshift fireplace because you can't afford heat. Our media, the institution which should be a watchdog against the government's efforts to erode the middle class, would rather humiliate you with articles like "People having more sex than you".

So you can't afford the heat, and you want to get out of America's kitchen. Good luck with that. The rest of the world can summarized as follows: The countries with good weather have shitty governments that will get you killed, and the countries with good governments have shitty weather and only five people total, all of whom are in Sigur Ros.

Stay in America.

And while you're in America, have a toast to the sheer amount of ways we can stay wired. So; take a keybump, break that concerta 30mg time release capsule, grab a vitamin energy, and I'll see you at that motherfucking Red Art of the Can Exhibit tonight*.

*I will absolutely not be there.

Class Assignment: Democratic Debate in Pictures

2007-10-31T21:43:00.000-07:00

This is actually from Scott even though it says Ryan at that bottom.

Welcome to Beyond.com

2007-10-31T09:58:00.000-07:00

Beyond.Com
1060 First Avenue, Suite 100
King of Prussia, PA 19406

Offer Letter: Business Development Associate

Congratulations and welcome to Beyond.com! As a newly hired Business Development Associate, you'll be responsible for leading some exciting new initiatives that we'll make up as we go along. As one of Philadelphia Magazine's top places to work in the greater Philadelphia area, you'll have an exciting opportunity to work in one the most relaxed and progressive business environments in the country!

By all means, take a tour of our office and acclimate yourself with your surroundings. You notice how we don't use cubicles in our office? This is because we encourage the lines of communications to be open between our employees. We believe that creativity should be fostered, and not stifled by oppressive cubicles! By the way, when you walked past these desks, did you notice anyone surfing the internet? Is Greg from accounting on Idolator again? If so, please report this to HR or your supervisor. Surfing the internet on company time is unacceptable, and we encourage our employees to report inappropriate behavior. Wait a minute; is Katya from marketing using a google search? I can't see how this "google" relates to anything we do. Changes must be made.

While touring our office, you'll also notice our 'game' room complete with air hockey and a Nintendo Wii. We at Beyond.com actually like to call this game room the 'scorcher', because anyone caught in this room during business hours will be fired. The game room is only acceptable to use when emissaries from the press are visiting.

Finally, your last stop on our tour will be the kitchen. Did you notice that we keep the kitchen fully stocked? We here at Beyond.com like to take care of our employees in case they forget to bring their lunch. With that said, why did you forget your lunch?! Attention to detail in your position is critical, and forgetting your lunch sends the wrong message to the rest of the company about your capabilities.

Whew! I'm sure you had a lot to take in there. Here is your desk. Please sit and look busy while we figure out what your position is, who hired you, and what work they wanted you to start with. As you can see, we're expanding so fast that we are getting ahead of ourselves!

You aren't looking busy enough. Remember, as your supervisor, you are supposed to look busy so I can tell the CEO that our team is busy, so he'll be satisfied, because there are no performance measures here! Hurrah for our laid back atmosphere!

Sincerely,
Beyond.com

P.S. Look busy all the time, but don't look busy when the press is here. Instead, play a game of frisbee with the webmaster from accross the office.

P.P.S. You're fired.

A band that can inspire a thousand bad puns: Audible

2007-10-30T10:09:00.000-07:00

I saw the Philly band Audible Saturday night at Johnny Brendas. Apparently, their lead singer has really "paid his dues" around here, and is really "connected" to the Philly music scene.

The Tweener convicts Audible of the following indie rock crimes:

1.)Token attractive female "playing" un-plugged keyboard. From Spiritualized, the Dandy Warhols, to the Warlocks, there is a time-honored tradition of the indie rock female keyboardist whose musical contribution is questionable. At least you could *hear* the keyboardists I mentioned, however, as I'm not even sure Audible's keyboardist had an actual keyboard on stage. It looked like the band bought a 747 flight recorder from a pawn shop and painted "Casio" on it.

2.) Additional token female playing the bass. "Hey current girlfriend, I need a bassist for my band. Can you pick this up?". Usually, this practice results in some fine musicians (see Kim Deal, Kim Gordon). The undercurrent of this practice, however, is that the bass isn't as important. And why not? It's only the rythmic foundation of your music.

Rest assured, however, if these guys don't care about bass, than they must be some great guitarists?

3.) NO. This is indie rock, fool. Three electric guitars, all playing the exact same shit. You know this is costing you money, right? Why don't you jettison one of your guitarists? Ok, one guy played lead; typical "in-the-pocket", repititive indie-lead. I'm not asking you to play a five-minute solo or anything, but how about showing me that you have a pulse. Give me some crazy effects, makes some noise, trip over one of your cords and fall into the drum kit, DO ANYTHING.

4.) Bad vocals. I'm sure all of us saw this coming anyway.

Whatever. Audible wasn't worth the two hour lunch I had to take to finally decide on writing this.

Ten Middling Philadelphia Bars (ok, five)

2007-10-29T11:28:00.000-07:00

The Pennyslvania Avenue Best Western Hotel Bar
You can have a Fantasy Football draft here. Eat before you show; you don't want the two course meal of chicken fingers and where are my fries? They'll say they don't have pitchers but you just have to ask twice and press a bit, then they'll say they have pitchers but you and your friends have to get six of them if you want any. Don't ask where the pitchers were a minute ago or you'll have to buy ten. Then your only option is to say, "Tell you what we'll get a Baker's dozen," because they don't know what the hell that is.

Twelve Steps Down
Proximity is the great equalizer, but not that great.

Drinkers
Drinkers has good specials; it's cool if you come with a team. If you come alone or with a buddy with any ideas other than getting pissed for the next bar, well shit man step it up. I know the girls can be hot but after all the buildup you inevitably find out they live in Manayunk or freaking Conshohocken. I mean, my mom has a friend who wants me to impregnate her daughter but I'm not driving to goddamn Yardley. Still, the specials really are fantastic and the music is ok, considering the crowd. One small note of warning, if you're like me and don't really care what you're drinking because you had eight lagers before you left the house, don't say, "I'll have the same," after your friend orders one of those Heineken keg can specials. The two of you will look pretty stupid standing there with matching keg cans. Believe. (Everything I've said doesn't go for that grimy basement at the Old City Drinkers when it's almost pitch-black and they play "Lean Back" on eternal repeat. Someday, somethings really going to happen in there.)

Woody's
Baha JK

Twelve Steps Down, redux
If there's hardly any people at your bar, ever, even on a Saturday night, your beer should be cheap. I mean there's hardly even any doods. $3.50 for a Yuengling, even from 5-7? What is that fifty cents about? I understand that you spent all that money on the huge projector screen and no one told you that if the room isn't dark you can't see anything on a projector screen, but hey I got my own life, my own problems, I don't want to hear about your fuckups.

Eagles-Vikings Preview

2007-10-26T12:16:00.000-07:00

It's been a slow blog week. About only 10% of my readers give a toss about sports. I need to be productive, however.

I'm a philly transplant. I spent the first ten years of my life in New York. I'm a Giants fan. Nevertheless, I know a little bit about the Eagles. Here is a preview of sunday's game against the Vikings.

-McNabb needs enough time to pass. If he gets enough time, the Eagles will win.

-McNabb also needs to be accurate when he gets time to pass. If he does that, the Eagles will win.

-What's going on with Reggie Brown this year? He's the x-factor. If the Eagles balance the equation, they'll win.

-You gotta love Bryan Westbrook. If he has 3 or more 50 yard touchdowns, the Eagles will win.

-Andy Reid needs to call better plays; namely, the plays to win. If he does that, the Eagles will win.

-What's not to like about 3rd round pick Victor Abiamiri? When I looked up his stats at Notre Dame, I noticed that the Fighting Irish had a winning record when he played there. If the Eagles play him, they'll win.

-Adrian Peterson...Whoa. He's the A-factor. I'm pretty sure an anagram of his name is "rad perestroika". Or maybe not. If the Eagles put eight men in the box and stop him, or if they simply play a base 4-3 defense and stop him, they'll win.

-Vikings QB Tavarias Jackson really knows how to manage the game. We've heard, however, that his Controller has some shoddy book keeping practices. That's on Tavarias and his lack of oversight. Shoot an e-mail to his regional supervisor and try and get him reprimanded. If the Eagles do that, they'll win.

If the Eagles do all of the above, they'll win...Unless they lose.

Either way, you heard it here first.

The Swift Gavel of Justice: Anna C. Verna

2007-10-25T11:32:00.000-07:00

I went to a city council meeting today. If there's one lesson I learned, other than the fact that our 16 city council members are a rather unattractive bunch that were no doubt the deciding factor in our horrible nationwide rating, it's that you don't trifle with City Council Prez Anna C. Verna. Indeed, she is one Italian matriarch that just screams, "Italian fucking matriarch".

It's appropriate that President Verna's middle initial is a "c", because she embodies a certain c-word that you all are definitely familiar with:

Combative

I learned the following about how to behave in her council today:

1.) You don't not talk when someone else has the floor. When the organizers of the million women march were honored in a resolution today, they were provided the floor to give an acceptance speech. When their leader was about to give her speech, one of the other members took the moment to try and shout out some sort of "political statement" off the mic. Anna C. Verna struck the gavel and was like, "step-off, you don't have the floor" and then told her stenographer to write "stfu", scan the page and upload it into a PDF, and then send it the member's blackberry.

2.) If the audience noise forces President Verna to strike the gavel twice for order, she'll start asking people to take it outside. After the Million Women's March gave their speech, there was a photo shoot with the rest of city council (At-large member Frank Rizzo, Jr. declined to take part. In fact, Rizzo looked like he'd rather be anywhere other than a City Council meeting. He's probably just eager to get his next FOP kickback.). When the audience kept talking well after the shoot was over, the wizened stump that is prez Verna told em' where the hall was.

3.) She moves the proceedings along quickly, because she is just as bored as everyone else. Verna makes the statement "all those in favor, say aye" like she wishes we could just skip the democratic process. No one would disagree with her. I mean, come on...A resolution calling to re-pave the road on Kelly Drive? Do we really need to vote on that? Can't the City Council member introducing the resolution just hand out the no-bid construction contract and get things over with?

Other observations about City Council: The council clerk talks faster than the guy from the micro-machines commercial. seriously; I don't think the I can remember the details of a single resolution that went through the council today. I'm glad I'm not a real reporter.

Did you hear?! Philadelphia voted least attractive city in the US!

2007-10-24T11:21:00.000-07:00

Unfortunately, no post today. I needed to get a haircut. I didn't.

A Tweener Workout Regimen: Iron Works II

2007-10-23T09:42:00.000-07:00

How does a tweener handle physical fitness?

Over the course of a year, a tweener will go to the gym three times a week for three consecutive months and haphazardly run a few miles and do a couple of bicep curls.

At some point, however, this person will miss two workouts in row and say, "fuck it, I'm already out of shape again" and not return to the gym for another 9 months.

People say, "write about what you know". I know the above scenario because it happened in a book I read. It was definitely The Sun Also Rises.

I've got a gym membership at Iron Works II at Northern Liberties. I don't live near Northern Liberties anymore, so I don't go to Iron Works. Nevertheless, I'm still being charged monthly membership fees.

I need to go there to cancel my membership, but I just haven't gotten around to it.

So hahaha, you want to talk about people being too lazy to go to the gym? That ain't shit, I'm too lazy to go to the gym to cancel my fucking membership!

Luckily, it's been said that Iron Works cancels the membership of people who complain about them online.

So, Iron Works II, even though I think you guys are merely providing a mediocre gym, I'll change it to "slightly below average" so you can cancel me.

Not good enough? Fine; you are also providing a haven for thugs and drug dealers from North Philly to work out and harrass the customers, apparently.

Still keeping my membership? Well, you just asked for the hammer to be dropped:

I've heard rumors that there are constant leaks in the ceiling. This is unacceptable even though I haven't seen it and probably wouldn't care if I did.

So go ahead and cancel me, BITCH. Don't even think about overcharging me, which is something I've also heard you do but I can in no way verify. My brother's about to be a lawyer, and he's spent a shitload time in a gym over the years.

Uh Oh

2007-10-22T08:45:00.000-07:00

When someone gets too drunk on a night out, they usually ask some basic questions the next morning. Where are my car keys? What assholish things did I say? Who is this lying next to me? I've got a splitting headache; where is my bag?

For me, however, I only had one horrifying question when I woke up Sunday morning:

Why oh why is the Calexico Live DVD playing on the TV?

It's not that I dislike Calexico; they're one of my favorite bands, and the DVD is great. In the year 2003, 95% of my sentences included a reference to Calexico. But, jesus, something must have really triggered me to put this thing on late Saturday night, and it couldn't have been good.

It was a party in Northern Liberties, and when I arrived I was in the drunk but not too drunk "sweet spot". Even though I can't remember a single damn thing I said while I was there, I could tell from people's faces that I was being entertaining for at least 20 mins. Then it all caught up to me, and let me tell you, those faces began to tell a different story.

I can see it now: I'm interjecting in some group conversation about brunch the next morning to discuss the merits of the album Hot Rail.

-

I start talking about Plaxico Burress to a bunch of people who aren't even sports fans, in which I eventually change the subject to Calexico because it rhymes with "Plaxico".

Let establish a rule here. If you get too drunk and go 'music nerd' on someone, you aren't even being an effective drunk. At least grab an ass or something.

So, anyone who has at that party, and can confirm that I indeed went Calexico on someone, spare me the details. It's all too much.

WTF Place of the Month: Parker Spruce Hotel

2007-10-19T10:32:00.000-07:00

One of the pleasures of walking a through a heavily gentrifying center city neighborhood is the appearance of a building or business that does not belong. It may be a dilapidated apartment building, a working class corner bar in the midst of high end nightlife, or an old time diner. Nevertheless, these types of places stand out amongst the modern condominiums, lounges, fusion restaurants, and coffee shops of the post-industrial city.

This is not an anti-gentrification dissertation. I don't want to turn the clock back 30 years on Philadelphia when most of the center city was dead save for a couple of gentleman's burlesque houses. I would, however, like to see some old symbols remain. The Parker Hotel on 1300 Spruce Street is one of them.

When you see the Parker Hotel, considering it's location, you ask yourself, "WTF"? Within two blocks of the Parker Hotel, there are Korean and Japanese Restaurants, as well as a hipster bar named Dirty Franks, housing for University of Arts students, musical instrument stores, and the last drop. The Parker Hotel, on the other hand, presents a run-down appearance that is contrasted by these immediate surroundings, embodied by the hotel's utilitarian 1920s design and the dirty, indistinct sign in front (not very visible in the pic, but you get the idea). Whenever I look in the lobby, one of the two elevators is inevitably broken, there are mattresses leaning against the wall, and there is absolutely no sign of a continental breakfast. In many ways, the Parker Hotel represents what the area used to be, a haven for trannies and prostitutes. Incidentally, the hotel is located a block away from where Officer Daniel Faulkner was presumably shot by Mumia Abu-Jamal in 1981

The Parker hotel was built in the 1925, intending to be provide small, affordable "bachelor apartments" to single males in the city. Eventually, these residential hotels were supplanted by condominiums in the later half of the 20th century. The Parker Hotel remains one the last of its kind in Philadelphia.

Who does it house now? Drug addicts/dealers, homeless men who gathered a bit of scratch and do not want to stay in a shelter for a night, men who are kicked of their houses by wives/girlfriends, and, believe it or not, a few actual lower-mid salary professionals who embrace the hotel's seedy atmosphere. The street it is located on, 13th, has a reputation for being wild, but as someone who walks through it often, it just seems like any other bar/club strip.

If you want to know more about the Parker Hotel, the Philadelphia Weekly had a piece on it last year.

As I was walking home from work yesterday, a large man exited the Parker Hotel and walked in front of me. He had tattoos down his arms and white t-shirt with a dragon design plastered on the back. He walked two blocks, turned down an alley, and proceeded to hand off some drugs to a 20-something white young professional.

I wasn't even trying, and one of the few times I walk past the hotel on my way home I stumble upon a drug transaction! Fantastic.

Don't tear this place down.

A Coffee Shop? The Last Drop

2007-10-18T09:54:00.001-07:00

Cracked walls? Old-timey lamp? Solitary figure? Dozens of useless fliers?

I guess we're talking about a coffee shop. In this case, it is the Last Drop, which actually looks nothing like the picture I just posted.

The Last Drop, located at 1300 Pine street, is one of the best coffee shops in Philly. I've enjoyed everything I've had there. There's only one problem: I don't particularly care for coffee shops.

First things first; Coffee. It has one primary ingredient, caffeine.

"blah blah this coffee is better than that coffee blah blah Colombian supremo". Listen, I know people are gonna disagree with me, but coffee is simply a conduit for caffeine. No matter what the quality of coffee or espresso is, will wake you up to a certain extent and then start producing diminishing returns.

Quality of coffee to me is pretty much defined by this: Does it have enough caffeine in it? That's why I typically choose a no-frills triple shot of espresso to go with my 300 dollar Alan Edmunds shoes. Both say one thing: Feigning power.

It's only 200 words into this post and I've already used about 15 colons.

It is fitting that weed in Amsterdam is sold in what are called 'coffee shops'. In the end, the two drugs are remarkably similar; not in the actual effects per se, but in the ways they are packaged and the ease in which an average person can consume the drug daily without real consequence. In the end, however, it doesn't matter if it's northern lights, AK-47, beasters, Italian roast, or a white chocolate mocha. They will all leave you with a headache and a propensity to do something completely irrelevant to what you need to be doing.

One time in England in the 1700s, some asshole drank so much coffee and had such big headache, he went off and wrote this ridiculous poem called "Rape of the Lock".

Anyway, the other uses of coffee shops include a place to socialize, read, or use a laptop. I have nothing against this concept; it actually seems pretty great in theory. The only problem is that I never see anyone socializing.

Which brings me to my next point: Without fail, every female says it's best for guys to meet girls at coffee shops. Until they start serving alcohol at coffee shops, however, this is asking for a hell of a lot.

All kidding aside (haha, "kidding"), I have one question to my female readers: How many guys have YOU met at coffee shops?

Let's just face the gritty reality. When guys and girls meet, a bar is somewhere in the early equation.

Prevent this trend from ever happening: Kickball

2007-10-17T09:17:00.000-07:00

All over the country, people are being hoodwinked by the red menace. Adams Morgan jocks, Greenpoint hipsters, Seattle...err...Web 2.0 start-up dudes; they all are embracing kickball as the combined sports event/social gathering of choice.

How did this travesty happen? Why is this a travesty?

Let's first examine the brief history of kickball as an adult sport. Here is an excerpt from a Wall Street Journal article:

Kickball's history as a business, however, dates back just a few years. In 1998, four recent college graduates -- David Lowry, Jimmy Walicek, Rich Humphrey and Mr. LeHane -- were having drinks at a bar here when the conversation turned to finding a way to meet women.
Three of the men had been members of Trigon, a coed engineering fraternity at the University of Virginia, and the group settled on the idea of launching a sports league that mixes athletics and socializing. They decided on kickball, which requires little athletic skill and isn't likely to injure anybody.

The league began on the National Mall here in 1998 with eight teams and grew quickly, fueled by word of mouth and the on-air endorsement of a popular Washington morning deejay who started a team and brought bagpipers and women in bikinis to his games.

You can see the warning signs already: University of Virginia, Washington, D.C., morning deejays, lack of injuries. The UVA/D.C. connection is the most troubling. Two of the most vanilla, old money places on earth combined forces to make kickball a national trend amongst adults; status quo people and counter-culturalists alike. What, ultimately, is the travesty from this?

The travesty is that four extremely boring dudes from UVA have succeeded in bringing an entire nation down to their level.

Well played, gentleman.

Think about it for a second: Kickball is basically a way for guys to meet women and make friends when they can't. Girls have embraced it probably for the same reason. That means these people have been unable to forge relationships through work, bars, concerts, festivals, coffee shops, mutual friends, book clubs, political/charity fundraisers, and Capoeira lessons.

Now think about kickball as a sport: No history, minimal skill, minimal knowledge required about the game.

Kickball is the emptiest activity known to man. It is a way for boring urban Americans to bond over their shared boringness.

For you "men" out there who play it, what pride have you? You should be out there hitting doubles, scoring goals, committing flagrant fouls, or any other actual sport activity. Are you so incapable of meeting women that you need a kid's game? Or are you intimidated of playing in a real coed league like softball or soccer and getting embarrassed?

Luckily, unlike New York and DC, Philadelphia has resisted this trend. The obnoxiously named indiekickball.org has locations all over the states, but not a Philly office. You also never see entire kickball teams take over bars on weeknights.

I think I know why Philly, like a Phoenix rising from the ashes of post-industrial decay, has remained pure in the face of kickball:

It's either the 70 dollar registration fee or the goat baked eggs at Standard Tap. Most people choose the latter.

Job Opportunities at The Tweener

2007-10-16T09:13:00.000-07:00

Contributing Writers

Are you tired of working in big media? Do you have an Ivy League Degree? Are you one those "connectors" from Malcolm Gladwell's The Tipping Point- someone knows everyone and everything - who can look down on other people?

We believe we have a position for you. The Tweener - the premier upstart cultural blog in Philadelphia - is looking to hire a few talented writers to accommodate their growing readership of 10, and sometimes on a good day, 15, readers. We want comedic writers, and our studies have shown that all good comedy comes from the Ivy League.

For this position, we are looking for the following:

-An Ivy League degree
-This Ivy League degree must be from Harvard
-New York address preferable
-5"9" an absolute minimum
-5-7 years experience in blogging or publishing

This is an unpaid internship with a weekly stipend of Campbell's Soup (non-chunky).

To apply for this position, DO NOT send us a resume. Just e-mail us telling us how awesome you are, a few key namedrops, a link to your blog, and a brief sentence telling us that you went to Harvard.

Phone calls are not ok.

Map Builder Associate

Are you a web designer at a creative marketing firm? Are you fat? Do you find the life being sucked out of you? Has your CEO been murdered?

The Tweener- the premier googlemap-based cityguide blog in Philadelphia- can't build a fucking map. There must be compatibility issues that we expect you to solve.

To qualify for this position, you must have the following abilities:

-Be able to go to http://www.mapbuilder.net/
-Sign in with the username "gozer25" and password "trane1"
-Click on "source code" and insert the Google API code that I will send to you.
-Past source code onto blog post
-Tell us why it isn't working
-then fix it.

This is a 1 hour position that will pay you a free bowl pack.

To apply for this position, please send us a resume, cover letter, and portfolio over the phone. Carrier pigeon also accepted

Please: NO emails about this job!

Parking Ticket Coordinator

Are you desperate for a job?!?

The Tweener - the premier subsidized-by-parents blog about making it on your own in the city - has a shitload of parking tickets. We need them to be paid before Dad makes good on his 23 threats to stop paying the lease.

To apply for this position, send me a check for 500 dollars and wait to hear from us.

Female Tweeners

2007-10-12T09:32:00.000-07:00

A few of our 100% x-chromosome readers have asked us to define a female tweener.

The definition is fairly simple: A female tweener is someone who is intelligent, has fairly good taste, but is not a scenester.

You may be thinking, "that's a pretty boring definition". To which I say, you're right; they are boring.

Just Fucking around.

Honestly though, if you want to break it down, do it by outward style first. Let's explore the WASP/hipster dichotomy:

WASP: Fake tans, pastel tank tops, flood pants blah blah blah. Pretty basic stuff. For the non-WASP male, the WASP female can either be ridiculously unattractive (the reasons usually start with a "fake" and end with a "tan"), or so unbearably attractive that all this guy wants to do is unhinge the shackles of status oppression and throw one in her for the universal rights of humanity. Something about a slight outward air of preppy snobishness will do this to you.

Hipster girl: accessories, accessories, accessories, big sunglasses, tattoos, little girl's dresses, stomach belts etc. Jesus, there is isn't a single redeemable thing on this list! Where are you all from, Japan?

Oh, and Tattoos: Not attractive under any circumstances. Artist's/hipster's love of tattoos are perhaps the stupidest thing about Philadelphia. I mean really stupid. I make two exceptions: contractors, and indie bands that have guitar solos. Otherwise, If you are reading this and have more than one tattoo (you get a pass for one bad decision), you are stupid for at least one day and I'm sure as shit not apologizing to you if you see me at a party. Stop fetishizing the working class that you have nothing in common with. They hate you. I hate you. And if you ever met this guy, you'd embarrassed about who your arm scribblings have bonded you with.

What were we talking about again? Female tweens??

Ok: Female tweens dress fairly unpretentiously and are very pleasant beyond an initial stand-offish demeanor. They're a little bit confused about who they are, but at least know exactly who they aren't. They can be either wild or a dead fish in bed. If you find a female tween who is single, you better get at that with the quickness, because guys of all backgrounds recognize their relative lack of craziness, and will line up to get them.

To all the female tweens out there: Neutral Milk Hotel's "In the Aeroplane Over the Sea" is pretty overrated.

Technical Difficulties

2007-10-11T09:38:00.000-07:00

We were supposed to unveil our first google map guide today, but we are experiencing technical difficulties. Our entry will postponed until tomorrow.

My blood is really boiling right now...Fuck fucking mapbuilder.

Dealers where R U?

2007-10-10T08:55:00.000-07:00

Man, back in college, I didn't know how sweet I had it.

I hear this phrase a lot, almost always in the context of women, and I guess it's true in that sense, at least in terms of raw numbers (although I'll take the lower frequency in exchange for twenty-something girls generally not being fish stix in bed), but this old saying really hits the money when it comes to the drugs. Back in school, I couldn't make a court appearance without getting high beforehand. I had three losers and one jam band on call right when my day ended at 11 AM. You thought you didn't have a coke habit senior year? Maybe you were just blacked out. But now that everyone has a fancy job and self-respect, I can't find even a damn nickel-bag to save my life, and I'm trying, hard. There are four things you can try to do that probably won't work to find some trees:

1. Walk in circles in black neighborhoods

This method used to work wonders for me. When I moved back to Philly three summers ago, I didn't have any "friends," my roommates didn't "like" me, so my only recourse was to walk as slowly as possible to the six-pack store and try to make eye contact with every shady guy I passed. This is a dangerous game, mind you. Your body language has to somehow scream addiction rather than sexual perversion. I can't explain how it's done, you'll just have to try it for yourself. You might even make some friends. I named a championship fantasy football team after one. Another taught me new respect for seminal club hit "Watch Out For the Big Girl" and to not hold back when you see that big lady walking down the other side of the street. Just yell that shit. Loud and Proud. They love it. The downside of this method is that the weed will suck. Don't even try the coke. Also, no matter how cool you think you are with your blunt buddy, one of these days he's taking your ten bucks and never coming back.

2. The chill middle-aged woman at your job

She hits the bong and everybody knows it. How would this conversation go? "Soo... totally off the record from work and all, and if this is out-of-line, just tell me and I apologize in advance, but I can't seem to find any pot anywhere and I was wondering if maybe you could help me out?" I don't know. I don't think I have the balls.

3. Your little brother

This is a low. My little brother likes me. He thinks I'm as cool as I know I am but other people are too dumb to realize. He likes when I have him come into the city and get him bombed. That time he came back from Geno's and I had thrown up all over the couch, I think it somehow raised my stature in his eyes. There's really no turning back from flipping the script like this and revealing to him that really I don't know anyone and they only come to our parties out of pity. Too late. Turns out his dealer got arrested or some shit.

4. Text and MySpace messaging every damn person you know

Get back at me already, plz.

Philly Music Part 2: Kurt Vile

2007-10-09T09:46:00.000-07:00

Has he read my big sunglasses post yet?

I know...Yesterday's post was supposed to be a review of Philadelphia musician Kurt Vile that turned into a two part series that was never intended to be. Sometimes, a guy just needs an excuse to bash Anton Newcomb and Brian Jonestown Massacre, even though no one has ever cared about them except the three or four idiots on Dig! who compared Anton to fucking Jesus Christ!

Anyway, this 2006 Kurt Vile EP has eight songs, and the name of the songs and the EP I can't remember because I don't have the cd at work. It doesn't matter anyway, because they only sell it at AKA Records and I bought the last copy. You'll never get your hands on it. Before you cry, remember I walked a long ass way to get it .

On this EP, Kurt Vile executes a simple lo-fi formula: Acoustic and clean-toned electric guitar strumming, some drum machine backing, a bit of ghostly keyboards, and reverb-drenched vocals. On one "jawn", Vile shows off his acoustic finger-picking style, and he is badass wit' it.

Vile is a decent singer and knows how to craft a vocal melody, which in today's indie environment, is like uncovering the fucking dead sea scrolls. He is a lazy singer, though, which sometimes makes him sound like he is phoning his vocals in from a traditional "landline" as they used to call them. As for the lyrics, they include some images like "alligator suit" and "pile of shit", so you can't go wrong.

Overall, it is a great album for the Fall. Fall, as you know, is a season that no longer exists.

By all means, check out this guy's live performances. They include blisteringly loud, wall-of-sound freak-outs that go well with a bowl. I don't if these songs were real when I saw them, or if Vile was just trying to scare the Penn kids away. The editorial staff at the Tweener certainly enjoyed them.

Anyway, although Vile tends to be a Philebrity favorite, he is often overshadowed by the bands he is associated with, like The War on Drugs and Relay. This is because he is most likely a chill cat who not concerned by fame, but in reality, I have no fucking clue. All that matters, however, is that he is a hell of a lot better than Anton Newcomb. Take that San Francisco/Portland.

Philly Music: Mystical Shaman Index (Another 2 Part Series)

2007-10-08T09:13:00.000-07:00

Happy Monday,

This past weekend, the big 215 festival was going down in Philly. The Tweener is here to promise you 0% coverage of what happened. We didn't go to a single goddamned event. Not even the spelling bee. Not even 6 hours and 45 minutes of Questlove spinning obscure Terry Callier at Bubble House. We're not even sure the Questlove event was part of the 215 festival, that's how little we know/knew about it.

We at the Tweener are busy on the weekends with murderous grad school assignments until mid-November, when this shit will really start poppin'. I did take a two hour study break on Saturday, however, to walk 400 blocks from my apartment near 11th and fitzwater to AKA Records on N. 3rd and market. I went there to pick up a Kurt Vile EP.

Kurt Vile is one of those slightly crazy looking, multi-talented solo musicians who often get described as "mystical shamans", "shaman mystics", or less often, "like Mystikal". Often, the music media are quick to exalt to the talents of such artists based on what their image promises rather than the actual tunes they deliver. I can think of no better example of this than Anton Newcomb and the Brian Jonestown Massacre

A brief aside of what gets my blood boiling regarding the Jonestown Massacre. I got hip to them In 2003 in Norwich, England, before the good but embarrassingly fawning dig came out and gave them an undeserving legacy. I had read everything available on the internet about the band and their awesome self-appointed influences, from shoegaze to soul music to freak-folk to free-jazz to regular jazz to classic rock to Switzerlandian blues. When I finally got my hands some of their albums, however, all I heard was a bunch of junkie shitheads trying to imitate Spacemen 3's Playing with Fire over the course an entire career, only with no guitar pedals and even shittier vocals.

To make sure I am never cheated again, I've created the "mystical shaman" index for deciding the legitimacy of said artist's musical genius before I make an investment. If you read clippings about the solo artist, here are the red herrings:

Artist can play 100 instruments: Translation: Artist can play guitar at a competent level, can play bass at a barely competent level, can play three chords on a Keyboard, and can string together three notes with any other instrument that's lying around. In addition, all instruments besides guitar will be buried so low in the mix that they might as well not even be there.

Besides, when comes to songwriting, who cares if you can play 100 instruments!? You're not going to make a Greek folk album, so what does it matter that you can make a killer Bouzouki arrangement?

Artist/media cites many disparate influences: This is what ropes the average listener in. They think they're going to be sent on a non-stop thrill ride of musical styles. The problem with this is that every musician has a comfort zone skill level that usually doesn't extend beyond a few genres. You're better believing press clippings about an artist that is specifically good at some kind of playing/writing style, ie Howe Gelb and his approach to piano, than someone who supposedly can play any kind of song. Too often, their reach exceeds their grasp.

Artist is their "own worst enemy": Translation: Artist hasn't made a good album yet.

There you go. Three red herrings that should give you pause before you fall for a genius of the month. Kurt Vile passes these tests, but I'll talk about that tomorrow.

THE DREAM IS ALIVE

2007-10-06T08:57:00.000-07:00

Do not go gentle into that off season,
Fans should burn and rave at end of the NLDS;
Rage, rage against the clinching of the Rox.

Though wise fans at their end know dark is right,
Because their cheers had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that off season.

Good fans, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail cheers might have danced in a green field,
Rage, rage against the clinching of the Rox.

Wild fans who caught the bandwagon in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that off season.

Grave fans, near death, who forget 1980
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the clinching of the Rox.

And you, my team, there on losing streak,
Curse, bless us now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that off season.
Rage, rage against the clinching of the Rox.

by phdave of backshegoes.com fame

5 Professions for The Tweener Part 2

2007-10-05T09:19:00.001-07:00

We are covering 3-5.

3. Librarians

Over the second half of the 20th century, librarians were a bit like Dustin Hoffman in the first hour and a half of Straw Dogs: Nebbish, snotty, introverted, and completely unequipped (microfilm anyone?) to handle the gaggle of philistine thugs threatening their home and family.

Over the last decade, however, librarians have become Dustin Hoffman in the last half-hour of Straw Dogs: An armed, resourceful killing machine; taking on any thug who invades the home with a combination of wits and a bear-trap. How do both the librarian and Dustin Hoffman find themselves in this predicament? For providing refuge to the town retard that everyone wants to kill. In this case, the librarian/Hoffman stands their ground, only occasionally interrupting their killing spree to go upstairs and slap the retard for making too much noise.

4. Journalists

An ideal fit. You go and report on people from different backgrounds, write stories about them, and if they don't let you in their inner circle, you can trash them in print...Pretty much a tweener defined.

5. Bartender

"Coughlin's law: Don't bother looking up my IMDB page, mate."

Who doesn't dream of a night of making drinks for snobby Upper East Side patrons, reciting shitty poems, and then going home with Gina Gershon? Indeed, the bartender is the "aristocrat of the working class". For Philadelphians, this is the best job to have when you have an artistic side hustle like a band, because you'll have more daylight hours to practice, and besides, saying "I'm a tax accessor when I'm not playing bass in The Teeth" just doesn't have the same ring to it. Also, you won't be too hipster by being a bartender, as you actually have to communicate with people who aren't like you. You won't communicate with me, though. Just give me my Dewars on the rocks and let me stare at the fucking counter.

Five Professions for Tweeners Part 1

2007-10-04T09:25:00.000-07:00

Overview: So, you've decided not to punch your status ticket by going to law school. Like everyone else in America, you have no desire to trudge through med school. When you entertain the thought of getting an MBA, it's only because it's amusing to think of what other people will think about you getting an MBA.

As a response to your choice not to attend these professional schools, we have to say: Welcome to the outskirts of upper middle class society! What's wrong with you? There are some psychological tests you can take home from the tweener lobby that will hopefully steer you back to the Beasley School of Law, or worse, Rutgers of Camden. In the meantime, here are five professions that are ideal for the tweener scum that you are. Enjoy, you Hamlet-complex having motherfucker:

1.) Web Designer, Graphic Designer, Marketer, Biz Dev Developer at any small creative/branding/web marketing firm.

These types of companies often promote their "laid back", creative atmosphere to go with their highly exaggerated client list. They often hire job candidates for the hell of it because hardly anyone applies to their positions. The rewards of working at these companies are mixed. If you are part of the 'creative' team, ie graphic designer of web developer, you usually know exactly what you need to do for any reasonable client, ensuring both job security and a creative portfolio (provided you do your work). If you are part of the marketing or biz dev team, however, throw that "laid back" concept in the pile of discarded computer equipment that's accumulating in the corner of your company's office because they were to cheap to hire an Office Manager. You have to understand that these companies need money. They don't have a lot of money. They hired you as a biz developer to make it. And generally, they have no clue how to create a marketing or sales plan for you to execute, hence why they have no money. Are you willing to do all their work, especially when you are just out of college in and lack experience in these types of things?

Anyway, to make sure you don't find yourself in the dilemma I described above, ask your potential manager in the interview about performance evualation standards. This will merit a confused look from your disorganized companies, while the better ones will have an answer. A example of a good creative marketing firm in the Philly area is Refinery, which recently got acquired. For an example of poor creative marketing firm, go ahead and read this article

2. Nonprofit Development/PR/Marketing/Outreach

Are you willing to work twice as much for half the money? Well hot damn, have I got a profession for you! All kidding aside, nonprofits often at least give the illusion of working for a good cause, and frequently give good benefits. So whether you are mentoring a headache-inducing autistic kid, commissioning a mural in a troubled neighborhood that needs a hell of lot more practical assistance, washing the windows of Constantine Papadakis' helicopter, or just shooting the shit about fantasy football to the Press Officer in the Philadelphia Museum of Art, nonprofits are jobs that soothe the soul...And the chicks are great. Good luck getting one, however.

3-5 tomorrow.

Hey Look, a Dated Article that Indirectly Refers to Tweeners!

2007-10-03T09:16:00.000-07:00

I have to comment on a June 3rd article from Timeout New York, titled "Why the Hipster Must Die; a Modest Proposal to Save New York Cool". Now, I'm sure the great blogosphere has already talked about this one, but there are just too many priceless lines in here to pass up commentary. Now; although this article is ostensibly about NY, there are many points that apply to Philly, especially concerning what the author here refers to as "mainstream hipsters". A "mainstream hipster" could easily be confused for a tweener, and here's what the author has to say about them:

Yes, the assassins of cool still walk our streets: Any night of the week finds the East Village, the Lower East Side and Williamsburg teeming with youth—a pageant of the bohemian undead. These hipster zombies—now more likely to be brokers or lawyers than art-school dropouts—are the idols of the style pages, the darlings of viral marketers and the marks of predatory real-estate agents. And they must be buried for cool to be reborn.

First of all, there has never been a lawyer or broker hipster in the history of humanity...Period. I can take a pretty good guess as to what an accountant, broker or l*wy*r(trust me on this one) in NY is doing on the weekend, and believe me, it ain't Williamsburg. They are, in fact, somewhere in a castle on the Upper East Side, sitting a mound of blow, playing with their old money, and participating in paid/unpaid orgies. For all you know, they are undead, because you sure as hell will never see them.

Same for Philly lawyers and brokers (if there are any Philly brokers). You think they're actually going to forget Continental Lounge for a night in exchange for watching 20 noise bands in a West Philly basement? Fuck outta here.

In regards to neighborhoods, they don't go from hipster to mainstream hipster, they from hipster to asshole pretty immediately. Take Northern Liberties for example. There was no transition from hipster to mainstream hipster. Literally in the space of a year, rape n'stalk became Liberties Walk, Ministry became le' ministre' (French bistro), and Standard Tap became Standard Tap...With assholes.

And as for extolling the virtues of "art school dropouts", I have met plenty of hipsters in Philly and nearly all of them had college degrees, Art or otherwise. I mean, come on; college is so easy these days that it's harder actually drop out than succeed. You have to be really trying hard to fail...Hat's off to you if accomplished that.

Let's go to the next line:

“The mainstream hipster is not an artist or a musician. He has an office job, and wears one hat to work and another at night.” Presumably, the latter is a trucker—or a porkpie—hat.

Repeat this mantra after me: Just because you have a mediocre band does not make you cutting edge. Just because you have a mediocre band does not make you cutting edge. Just because you have a mediocre band does not make you cutting edge.

Beyond that, however, is this pesky 'office job' that is continually cited as the root of all evil. This author seems to think that everyone with an office job is a banker or a lawyer. What about the grey areas? Librarians? Graphic designers? Journalists? These are classic tween professions (to be covered in another post; Do they need to be sent to the gulags?

The great thing about Philly, as opposed to New York, is that we are much more industrious. Most of the people I've met that are in bands have some of the occupations listed above. To them, as well as most people in this city, it's not selling out, it called "earning a living", which makes it a great inbetween city. You can be a musician, an artist, a marketer, a meth dealer, a contractor, or nothing at all, really; honestly, who the fuck cares this much about divisions these days when the internet has destroyed secrets? Just have fun with it.

Finally: What distinguishes the zombie hipsters at large today from the “white Negroes” Norman Mailer described in the 1950s is a lack of menace. The original hipster—Mailer had in mind James Dean and the Neal Cassady who inspired On the Road—was a “philosophical psychopath” who might steal your car and drive it to Mexico.

Err...That is probably the least menacing thing I've ever heard. I guess stealing my old roomate's adderall made me menacing.

Hipsters past, present, and future never had menace. I mean,On the Road?! Are you serious!? Kerouac once wrote a novel in which his protagonist was celibate for christ sake! William Burroughs killed his wife, and then wussed out and claimed it was an accident. What a punk. These guys were no paradigm of toughness.

Anyway, my point being: Tweeners are far from being lawyers and brokers, we have a creative side but won't be in band for being in a band's sake, and neither hipsters nor tweeners are that menacing...Nor should they care.