Wednesday, November 28, 2007

Sunday, November 18, 2007

What a great comic.


These guys really like Calvin and Hobbes. Okay that's fine. I like the comic too. No, these guys really like it, so much so that you will never be able to like it as much. They have gone and added up their favorite selection of Bill Watterson's creation, and go into fine detail, giving reasons why they love it, so fucking much.

Me, I just enjoy reading them, and thought someone else might too.

Tuesday, November 13, 2007

Take a pic click click!



Zac, creeping around Parkgate.



Fake Shark Real Zombie, creeping at the BackStage Lounge.



Creeps on Commercial Drive creeping about in creepy costumes.



Maria creeping out Morgan Brown in a creepy punkin' head.

Ameliore votre capacite de vocabulaire.

feed starving people! get smart!

http://www.freerice.com/

Ameliore votre capacite de vocabulaire.

feed starving people! get smart!

Monday, November 12, 2007

hit me back


can't get enough of your love babe.
come'on dave.

Friday, November 2, 2007

Small Fame: driving hard loud and steady


Opening for, and one-upping, The Clips last night at the ANZA club, was Small Fame. With hard raining steam-engine vicious bass lines (the kind you would hear in your head while driving all night, getting kicks from coffee and taurine enhanced drinks), I couldn't help but feel as though I was witnessing the rebirth of Deep Purple. This band rocked, in the purest sense of the word.

Unfortunatley, I'm not sure if they always rock: the lead singer/keyboard slammer, Dan Moxon was, if I'm not misinformed, a guest, a standin. He fronts the band Bend Sinister, their namesake from a Nabokov book that I haven't read, nor have plans of opening. If Moxon et al. think they are being clever, with this allusion to a "formative" author, well, I have nothing to say about it.

The Clips were weak in the main. Their inclusion of a trumpet player, and then the subsequent loss of rhythm, an attempt at free form fun, only lessened their indie-points. If my pants are tight, my Vans rough, and my "vertically intergrated" underwear colourful, I want it how others want it: ie. not fake jazz. That should, and can, be found on Wednesdays at The Cobalt.

Space trucking, yeah'er.