You people do realize The End is nigh, right? Really, really nigh. All the signs are there: turbulence at the Temple Mount, fighting in the Balkans, Iraqi troop movements, terrorist attacks in Yemen, and a too-close-to-call election between two genuine pieces of right-wing crap—not to mention the news that robots have been invented that can invent other robots! To top it off, the real Millennium approaches. And yet, nobody seems to have noticed. What's the deal? Doesn't anyone read sci-fi anymore? As for us, we've already begun growing our postapocalyptic dreadlocks. . . .
What's the point of Napster if you can't find any Bitter Springs or Hefner or Julian Cope? And when we searched for At the Drive-In, the only matches were 'N Sync's "I Drive Myself Crazy" and Britney's "You Drive Me Crazy." So much for the new musical revolution. . . .
Kudos to the One Man Crime Spree on his new career as color commentator. Three words: More Tazz Victims! Beat him if you can. Survive if he lets you. In fact, this new synergy business is working out quite well. We hear Naked Mideon will be joining Carson Dooley as cohost of TRL . . . Also: We got pop? Bwaa-ha-ha-ha!
Munkafust? What the fuck kind of name for a rock band is Munkafust? "Hey man, who's your favorite band?" "Munkafust, dude!" We thought Limp Bizkit was the all-time worst-ever band name, but Jesus H Christmas, Munkafust?! Hell, friggin' Wheatus think Munkafust is a stupid moniker and they call themselves Wheatus! On a related note, hed(pe)???
Forget Kid A for a moment, if you can: At Bright Eyes' recent gig at the Paradox, the new overrated genius savant on the block asked the sheep in the audience to sit on the floor, the better to see the all-seated band. Now that's post-rock!
Ireland now officially has more mobile phones than regular phone numbers. If you need anybody, they'll be at the pub. . . . Congrats to the New F'n Show for taking the Strap from Justin Asshole. Now let's see how long he can hold on to it. . . . It's "Medicine Cabinet Safety Month," which reminds us: When Robert Downey Jr. makes his debut on Ally McBeal, your hapless heroine falls off the toilet. Hey, he's been there. Also, skipping any further drug addict references, it's really amazing that after all these years Ally's still falling off toilets. Yes, we know. The bathroom's co-ed. No wonder we watch RAW. . . .
Fugees are reportedly reuniting. We didn't know they'd broken up. Oh wait, we did know, we just don't care. . . . We read one of Nobel Prize-winner Gao Xingjian's novels, and an hour later we wanted to read another. . . . Moby has licensed every single track—that's all 18-count-'em-18 tunes—on his Pazz & Jop-topping Play for use in commercials. Now don't you wish you had voted for The Soft Bulletin?
Our fave new political chant—though it ain't exactly suitable for all direct actions—is "Kill yourself Slobo and save Serbia!" During a CNN report on the Yugoslav revolution, you could hear "Come As You Are" blaring in the street as the crowd stormed Parliament. Man, we sooo want to rock out to Nirvana and stage a popular revolt. . . .
You know how CDs ruined music by making every band think they had the right to do a 74-minute album? Well, this DVD business is even worse. Does anyone other than Morgan and Wong really need an alternate ending, two outtakes, two documentaries, and three separate 80-minute audio commentaries with Final Destination? We think not. . . .
While we have zero interest in her books, that Mary Karr was one smokin' 13-year-old . . . Jason has a question: Where have the Pavich Organic Raisins in the red can gone? Suckas gots to know. . . . Doves' brilliant album, Lost Souls, was released in the US last week, not to be confused with the two-year-old Winona Ryder bomb which finally hit theaters to universal disdain. Lost Souls is so old it rips off Seven rather than Blair Witch!