This year the opening credits to Saturday Night Live open with Jewish me, Fred Armisen. Quite like me, Fred is seen leafing through a box of vinyl records, presumably in New York City. It is clear that the record store is not very organized because the titles are ordered PEARL JAM, SEX PISTOLS, JOY DIVISION. The closest sensible reason I can think of for that way of alphabetizing is that the second word in the second pair begins with the first letter of the first word in the first pair and the third pair begins with the first letter of the second word in the first pair, but that pattern doesn’t continue unless you replace Joy Division with someone like Joe Satriani, which is obviously stupid because why would Fred Armisen listen to him? Pearl Jam and the Sex Pistols seem like viable options, especially because Fred has been known to guest star in quirky and fun little indie music videos, which I will not link to.

If you stick with me you will be replaying this video a lot. Don’t worry the 2009 version still applies.

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I’m writing this on Monday night about an hour before the New York Giants play the Minnesota Vikings in Detroit. This wacky set of circumstances comes as a direct result of this:

Woah.

Anyway, even more significant than an entire sports stadium collapsing under the weight of what appears to be either cocaine or sudsy bubbles is the fact that Brett Favre won’t be starting. For those of you who a) don’t like to spend 10 hours every Sunday screaming at their TV, b) don’t know the names of the sports they watch, or c) sat out every 2nd week of high school gym because of “menstrual cramps,” Brett Favre has started every single regular season game since 1992. Follow me after the jump for a list of significant events that have happened since Brett started tossing an asymmetrical leather ball to really fast black guys on a professional level.

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Since Smartass Radio originally started as a vehicle to take me backstage at shows for free, it makes sense that we turn our attention to music every once in a while. And seeing as regular reviews kinda suck and only give you one person’s opinion on a particular piece of music, we decided it would be good if we chose an album every week and everyone had to review it. These aren’t going to necessarily be new releases, just something that one of us decided all four of us should listen to.

This week someone chose Steeple, Wolf People’s second record this year. Go illegally download the album (you were going to anyway) and listen to it while we force feed you our opinions.
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You know what?

If I said that really condescendingly it would be a good insult, but if I say it with a smile it sounds like I am about to tell you something, and I am! There is one thing I like to do before I sit down to write blogs. Nope, guess again, I like to put on some groovy tunes! Well, hey, let’s get real: it’s about a week into December and from what I can remember I am getting weak in the knees with anticipation. Am I anticipating the antifreeze? No! I’m anticipating the poinsettias, mistletoe, wreaths, ivy, holly and evergreens! As I began this blog I put on one of my all time favorite Christmas songs: “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree.”

Go ahead and press play there, it makes a good background track.

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Hello everyone,

I have to say that I am very happy to be back writing for SmartassRadio. Writing these blogs is like keeping a diary and in a few weeks I’ll have a time capsule of my past couple weeks on the internet. Today I am going to try something that the late, great poet Frank O’Hara used to try. Frank O’Hara’s poems are pretty good in my opinion. He was a gay guy and would take the ferry over to Fire Island a lot. He would do things like write poems for a poetry reading on his ferry ride TO THAT VERY READING. In fact, the ferries that cross the Great South Bay aren’t very long. Pretty much like fourteen minutes only. Not a lot of time to get the creative juices pumping.

What I am striving for at the moment is something that is similar. I want to write a blog post in fourteen minutes. That is all the time I have right now, and frankly it is now or never. I’ll tell you right now that it is 4:49. Do you consider that fast marksmanship?

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Missed Connections are the most desperate, pathetic form of making contact with a potential sexual partner. “I saw you on the L train last Monday around 10 AM. I know you noticed me too, but I was too shy chickenshit to go up to you and strike up a conversation. So, here I am writing, more or less, to the idea of you, hoping that you’re as pathetic as I am. If you’re interested in meeting up reply to this anonymous email.”

There’s no way these ever work. MAYBE on a campus newspaper, but certainly not on the craigslist from a major city. I’m sure none of you remember Joel C. Marquette or even knew who he was to begin with. Click this link to refresh your memory and then follow me while I explore his trials and tribulations through the world of Missed Connections.

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Hello again, Smartass radio’s Michael Jackson correspondent Megan Riebesell here, just checking in to follow up on the status of our dearly beloved.  As we all could have predicted, not even MJ’s passage into eternity could ease the controversy that besieged him all his life.  Back here on earth, we are still picking away at every morsel of flesh that our ugly beaks can scrape off his bones.  People are still making  careers out of revealing any kind of sensitive information they can dig up in his wake, so-called “artists” are  still depending on his legacy for their own shot at celebrity or capital, and the fat, greedy vultures of the world are still milking his hard-earned masterpieces for every pathetic cent they can steal.  However, do not fret, I am here to remind everyone that Michael’s pure soul, which was always too powerful to be contained by a simple human body, has finally reached its proper ranking among the gods, as an immortal presence.  Of course, Michael’s kingdom in the great beyond is immune to the commotion of silly, frantic scavengers still chirping his name down here.  Rest in assurance, MJ smiles down on all of his children still, giggling at our antics.

That being said, skimming through Jacko’s most recent controversy was actually a pretty hilarious and  of course bizarre venture. Where do I even begin?

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