What’s that? A Songs of the Week without one single mention of Kate Bush? You know I can’t let that happen. She’s still going in the tags. Suck it.Read More
Even my sister’s country girlfriend showed up to see Morbius™️: the Living Vampire. We arrived only a minute before her, and as our car doors clapped shut, it was like a snuffer had been dipped over the Denver. The parking lot was hushed by a wintry, asphalt silence; the kind that only happens when the sky is as white as the snow below. The world was waiting with bated breath—I felt it shimmering in the air. Then: crash, harumph, harumph! The familiar rumpus of her Ford F-450, flattening a pile of snowplow accretion as it carved one last parking spot into the brimming lot. It was the crack of dawn, then, and the spray of slush nipped something vicious. We could only hear as she dismounted from a driver’s seat four feet off the ground—the clump of boots as she landed in the snow, the muffled steps as she poked her head around the side of the horse trailer she’d towed along. Latched to the back of the truck, it blocked about three-quarters of the oncoming lane.
“You even brought Huckabee and Oats!” my sister exclaimed as her girlfriend unlatched the trailer.
“Shucks,” she breathed, one arm thrown around my sister and the other hand tipping her confederate flag ball cap. “I wouldn’t let my babies miss the on-screen day-beeyoo of Morbius™️: a Marvel Legend.”
I nodded sagaciously, pulling my tattered trench coat tighter.
“A Marvel Legend. A Marvel Legend indeed.”
And for the record, I wouldn’t be caught dead fraternizing with the rebel-flag-ball-cap type, not even if it was Christmas—not even if it was double Christmas. But today, we douse our torches, put down our swords, cast aside our stones. Today, not rain nor shine could break the chain of hands, of hearts, of fans stretched across the nation. Today, we have something to agree on. Today, we have something to fight for. Today, Morbius™️: the Living Vampire hits theaters.Read More
Whenever I write these posts, I space out the images first, and just leave “h” at the top until I get to this part. Every time I go to publish a draft, I creep closer and closer to forgetting to make an intro. Someday, it’s just gonna say h, and that’s when you’ll know it’s time for an intervention. But for now, I am here, and I bear songs. Behold, the man!Read More
Eleven eleven! Happy secular holiday! Make your secular wish.Read More
There. A proper Halloween theme. Happy, America?!Read More
Happy Halloween, everyone. Here’s the most colorful song aesthetic I could put together in the spirit of the season. Planning ahead? Never heard of her.Read More
when adam driver said
he was so real for thatRead More
No offense to today’s date, but what an unsatisfying set of numbers. Don’t they just leave the weirdest aftertaste? Anyways, happy birthday to anyone who was born on October 14th!Read More
Alright guys, let’s get serious for a second. I’d like to address something real quick before I get into it here, just before twitter hops on this and starts tearing me to shreds. I think in situations like these, the only solution is to come forward with the utmost honesty, humility, and integrity that I can, so that no one is left in the dark about the situation when the judgments start flying. I know we all come here every Friday to just forget the world and enjoy popular, mainstream, accessible music for twenty minutes, and I know that by breaking this tradition, I have broken your trust as readers, as colleagues, and as family. For this, I am deeply ashamed, but I have already begun my long journey in rebuilding these foundations which we collectively hold sacred, and I hope my coming forward about this issue will be the first brick laid. Because, as I’m sure you’re all aware, last week’s Songs of the Week was on September 30th, yet on its banner was emblazoned a lie, loud and proud: a release date on the 23rd. Shameful, I know— a monument to my fallibility even as a public figure, unable to be undone because nothing can be deleted on the internet. And I know what you must all be thinking— “what’s next, not using yellow, red, or white as the title font color? Have we forgotten our allegiance to the proud nation of San Diego?” To— uh… to that I say… to— um… shit.Read More
Wading through the whimsy-grass that bristles past my shoulders, I break into a clearing near the back of the house. Squinting, I raise the floppy rim of my hat in case the shadows deceive me, but what stands beneath the deck remains the same: twins, a boy and a girl, both blonde as a split aspen. The little boy jabs right with a stubby wooden sword, and the pair exchange a nod before parting ways. Yet neither is safe here, neither is ready— the garden shows its teeth before establishing trust.Read More