THE GREAT GADFLY:

I'm An Obtuse Man, So I'll Try To Be Oblique

I dedicate this entry to the man with the plan, the inimitably inedible Principal Onyx Blackman. Why? No reason. No reason at all.

But to quote the great man himself as he poured a pitcher of water over his steaming crotch at the Flatpoint High staff sauna, "my boys are burning." More poignant words I've rarely heard.

ANYway:

I loooove throwing things away. Especially when I can buy new things with which to replace them. It brought me so much joy tonight to throw out my skanky-ass tube of Aquafresh and replace it with the new TechnoSkankyAss tube of Aquafresh that apparently explodes into a violent foam when you put it into your mouth. I'll let you know how that works out.

Threw away old shavers to make room for the new, non-rusted variety. Out with the old can of shaving cream, in with the new. Nasty ass flat DiCoLem buh-bye, new fizzalicious sodey-pop, HELLEAU!!!

Ah, the joy of payday. I even got a damn haircut tonight. It's great to be king, even if I'm not.

I also got a trio of new CDs today, for the first time in what feels like an eternity (it's actually only been two weeks, but those CDs were USED and they don't count, and if you DO think they count, you can just...just...SHUT UP!) - I gots me some Blur, some Goldfrapp, and some Yeah Yeah Yeahs (8.99 - cheep).

Haven't given YYYs a listen yet, but I can say a few words about the other two -

The Blur album, "Think Tank", what can I say. It's a Blur album. It's a little poppy, a little experimental, a little here, a little there - it's cuteboy music, bested enjoyed while styling one's hair or thinking about clothes. But that's not to say it's bad, it's just nothing terribly out of the ordinary for them. Which, you know - if you like Blur, that's a good thing. And sure, I like Blur okay.

This here Goldfrapp album, though. Two words: DAY YUM!!! I'm all about this wrecka right now. It's the album I wish Madonna would have put out. If ol' Madge Ritchie would a) magically grow a strong set of pipes, b) go back in time and grab a young Gary Numan to be her producer, and c) magically grow a strong set of pipes, she'da been able to slap together something like "Black Cherry". But to hell with her, anyway. Allison Goldfrapp is The Deal. She sings like everybody already knows who she is, and she squeals like she owns the place. Divalicious, in the most sassy-ass, indulgently pretentious, tragically delicious meaning of the term. When she's not whooping her way through some electro-fied android rawk, she's cooing her way through mellow ballads that wouldn't be outta place in a Bond movie. Goldfrapp's first album was similar, though less dancy, more atmospheric, and heavy on La Goldfrapp's talent for, erm, YODELLING. I don't know if I'm sad or glad that the yodelling is left to a minimum this time around, but ya don't get time to lament, the music's just too dang fun. If ya don't know her, now ya do - check it out, it's yummy.

Also finally picked up that James Frey book, "A Million Little Pieces", that I've been hearing everyone whoop about with such heartfelt and persistent blather. I'm so anxious to rip into this dreary little treasure that I nearly tossed it in the microwave and heated it up for dinner.

I think I'll put off adopting a pet monkey for a while, at least until I've fully masticated all these treats.