Found Spam Poetry Du Jour.

explain dark social love horses,
completely number fill pleasure.
filled perhaps short?

CLICKHTML

love being near evil perhaps,
talked immediate sandwich cousin met.
disappoint development happened spot.
telling talked wine gray necessary met?
chance free god how?
quickly book considered.

Oh my god, this is the most beautiful poem ever.

And it so resonates with me! I mean, I've totally talked immediate sandwich cousin met! And don't get me started on love being near evil perhaps.

There's Someone I'd Like You To Meet.

This is Lubka Bubkova.


This is Lubka Bubkova's next scheduled event (click to enlarge photo).


This is Lubka's personal message to you:

Everybody on Dodge-Blog, we know you must be prodigious in number, what is up?! It is world-reknowned, cosmetologist among many other hats I wear, LUBKA BUBKOVA. Be saving date, beehutchez, cuz rare chance to be recipient of mad science droppings, and marvel at my plausibility-defied outfits, is right around corner! Gonna be Klassic Lubka, you don't wanna miss!

See below, is website.

Lubka is out now.

yougotcharacter.com

Riff-Raff.

Oh dear. This is a google ad I'm attracting.

POAB = Priestess On A Boat = A Unique Happiness.

I'm really honored to have had the opportunity to see my favorite metal band, Priestess, perform on a boat last night in New York Harbor. I thought I had experienced some adventures in life but this was a strange, unique thrill I never could have anticipated.

The vessel, The Half Moon, was so much smaller than I expected. They should call it the Quarter Moon. There's no such thing though, is there? It took us about 10 minutes to make our way around it, which we did early on to scope out the joint, but it only took that long because it was so crowded and wobbly. I still feel like things are wobbly. Not once did I hurl, although I saw another woman hurl. It seemed ok though, not like, "I feel gross, if I don't spew I may die of alcohol poisoning," more like, "Oops, seasick, let me just get rid of something discreetly." She should get a medal for most elegant vomiting.

My computer is rocking in front of me.

It was a great time because it was such a simple pleasure, really, and yet kinda bizarre, and it all happened by walking north from my apartment along the river for about 15 minutes. In just a few steps I was transported to another world. I know this probably sounds overdramatic, but I live in Manhattan and this was the closest I got to leaving it since last summer (not counting Brooklyn or Jersey City. Hell, Jersey City was last weekend and even that seemed exotic).

Let me put it this way: I was BOATING (there was a CAPTAIN) with a METAL BAND from Montreal.

But as I said, it was a compact vessel. It gave the show a very intimate feel. I did not get to know every other Priestess fan in attendance, but I definitely could have in the time allotted. So it ended up feeling not at all like a concert, but a party with three bands at someone's house. As the house moves down the river and into the harbor under a full moon.

The vessel was nearly dwarfed by the bowl of potato chips, the only thing to eat on the Half Moon, but free of charge. Mike of Priestess came out with it, all excited, and said, "This is just until the big bowl gets here!" Whose crazy idea was it to find the largest stainless steel bowl in existence and serve up chips in it to metal fans on a boat? I don't know, but I do like knowing that handsome Priestess drummer Vince Nudo and I both ate from it. I am sad I didn't get to hang with the band more. I'm a really bad groupie. I guess I'm a fan, not a groupie. This band really delivers. I love them all but I must note that Vince is DEMONIC on the drums. Unfortunately he was too far away and his drumming too frenetically demonic to be captured by my camera, so I captured none of those crazy expressions he makes when he is shredding on the skins. Drum surfaces probably aren't skins but I'm trying to use lingo. I don't know enough drummer lingo. I wish I didn't get so tongue-tied around him. What a teenager I sound like! (My friend Jen was present for the awkward simultaneous chip-eating, and she later said the charge between Vince and me was "palpable.")

So I don't know when I'll be able to see Priestess again live. But I will rest up for it and not get too intoxicated so that by the end of the night maybe I can actually talk to them. Besides being great as a band, they are four sweet, smart, funny dudes.

I'm going to ask Vince out now on my blog:

Vince, the next time you're in New York (or maybe Los Angeles or Montreal, both of which I'm planning on visiting soon), let's get a bite to eat before the show. I mean, you have to eat. What do you like to eat? So it's a date? It can be a group thing if you prefer. That might take some pressure off me. I get so nervous around you. You really are incredibly handsome not to mention the most radical drummer ever in the coolest band ever. I'd like to get to know you better, take a walk around the city with you. Doesn't that sound fun? We could go to the dog park without a dog. I've done it, it's fun. Or I see us in Montreal at a cafe, it's so European there. It looks like the touring has been good for your muscles. Okay, so let me know!

Now that I think about it, I should probably be glad I haven't said more to Vince.



Mikey Heppner of Priestess, beer can owner unknown



Dan Watchorn of Priestess



Priestess. Mikey Heppner, Mike Dyball, Dan Watchorn, Vince Nudo.


This one was on myspace. Someone commented, "Jesus called. He wants his look back."

Dear "Amateur Swinger" Who Failed To Spam Bloggystyle.

Just because you succeeded in finding bloggystyle by searching for "wife swap" doesn’t mean I’m going to publish your comment. I’m not into giving amateur swingers free advertising. Frankly, I’m not into giving the pro ones ad space either.

Wait, there is such a thing as a pro swinger?

This all just doesn't make sense.

First of all, swingers have to be multiple. Swinging by definition requires a certain number of personnel, no? Just try and swing all by yourself.

Okay, well, it’s possible, but I think it’s rare.

And professional swinging would require pro swingers and their swingees, presumably also professional, because why would the pros hang with the amateurs? But if you are all pros, swinging together, who is paying you? What is anybody going to hire a bunch of swingers for? Swinging is supposed to be recreational, right? Like tennis?

Don't corrupt it by selling it.

Oh. I forgot. You're not selling it, you're an amateur.

I think amateur in this case must mean "bad."

At any rate, your comment is flabby with redundancy, which gives me a not pretty window into your swinging.

I’m tempted to link to your page. Your grammar and punctuation alone would make my reader(s) lose bladder control.

I'll consider it.

Sorry, I've Been Busy Becoming A Metal Groupie.

I suppose it would have been better to post this when the article was still free of charge. But hey, becoming a metal groupie has kind of cut into my posting. But maybe you have a nerve premium account or want to get one and and then you can read about my metal rock-groupie exploits with the Saint Reverend Jen Miller.

Otherwise, subscribe to Toxic Pop and read about our next Priestess groupie outing.

Or visit and listen to Priestess on myspace! They're from Montreal and they ROCK and I never use "rock" as a verb!

Dear Russian Girl Whose Blog I've Been Reading.

Boy my Russian is rusty, and boy, your posts are long.

Cyrillic sure is pretty, though.

Wow, I've been reading your posts for a while, and yet the sense I have of you is so vague, it's as if you are a glimmer of a person, swathed in thick textiles, hidden in a snowbank, and me without my contact lenses.

Except you're not really in cloth in a snowbank, you're just...out there.

It sounds like I had you buried alive in my mind, and that's really not what I was getting at. Sorry about that.

The things I can say about you for certain are indeed few.

1) You are female.

2) You live in Russia.

3) You are a student.

4) You take photographs of the outdoors and post them.

5) You are a young adult.

6) You listen to music.

7) You have moods.

8) You use the emoticon feature for listing your moods and the music you are listening to (and these are in English).

Everything else is a maybe. Some people were walking somewhere, and after class something happened, and something about religious literature on the subway. You are maybe making yourself some jewelry out of something blue and black, and it appears you can relax until Monday.

I'm going to go laboriously translate one of your posts now.

Top Ten Reasons To Live.

10) No library fines until March 4

9) I still have to watch The 40 Year Old Virgin about 20 more times

8) I found out that I can extend my haircut past six weeks by switching the "part" (not really a part, just a...direction)

7) I always like to see how things turn out?

6) The bag of money might be about to drop out of the sky

5) The power of language, which can filibuster us through to the next reason

4) I want to read the Wu-Tang article in the old issue of the Voice I got from my neighbor

3) The Bee Gees (feels like a cop-out, only because it's so a given, but there you go, if it's a given, it might be the most solid reason on my list)

2) Well, since there's two of them left... Hi Barry, Hi Robin! You're my numbers 2 & 3!

1) To continue being the awesomely optimistic type of person who makes future-greeting lists like this

If Anyone Deserves To Be Purchased For $50,000, It's Me.

It's not like we didn't already know Vincent Gallo is a performance artist.

However.

If you have a publicist.

If you have some celebrity to sell.

Or if you have some celebrity to upgrade with sudden exposure, you don't need the $50,000.

I (also an artist), on the other hand, am one who could use a grant of $50, 000 to release me from service to the day job that only yesterday produced in me (once again) suicidal feelings. In order to more completely perform my other job, which includes, but is not limited to, telling jokes about ridiculous things like Vincent Gallo.

Not that I don't enjoy your antics, Vincent Gallo. But come on. I need one of your endowments a lot more than I need the other. You give me the cash, and I'll take you out for fish and braised vegetables (and we can talk about whether I'm interested in your other endowment), then I'll quit my job. If you want, my "performance" could be not even calling in to quit, or going there and making a scene, of your devising if you wish. Your choice.

The only thing that really bothers me is the "avowed Republican" part. Not even so much the Republican part (although that is always jarring to hear), but the "avowed." I wouldn't expect Vincent Gallo to be claiming to be an avowed anything, so I bet it's a carefully chosen part of the act.

Look, I said on myspace that I wanted to meet him, and that was before all this mess. Maybe Vincent Gallo sits around in his underwear Googling himself and will find this, and consider doing something truly good for humanity, and take me up on my offer.

Stay tuned for my web site with the donate button.

And now, before this blog becomes the Vincent Gallo Watch...

Vincent Gallo's Knob-Polishing Scene Can't Make Me Not Love Him & My Peculiar Brand Of Movie Review.

Just a few things, Jeff Mac and the rest of you:

It may seem that my movie reviews are stale, because I tend to write them long after the movies in question have been released. This is because I feel I can really dig in and explore my feelings about them only after the hubbub has died down. Also, perhaps laziness.

It may also seem that my movie reviews are b.s. because sometimes I like to review movies I haven't seen yet, or movies that I saw only long ago and maybe didn't even pay much attention to. This is my peculiar brand of review. Let's just say that sometimes what you have to say can be more pertinent when you don't know what you're talking about. If you believe that, I love you, don't ever leave me. For more on this, see the footnote to my Rauschenberg review.

I have not yet seen The Brown Bunny, but I have seen its x-rated knob-polishing scene on the Internet. (Sorry, no links to p*rn on my blog. Google it yourself. I'm already worried about the cretins I'll attract from having typed "x-rated" and "knob-polishing.") The movie is currently jockeying for a top-three spot on my netflix queue, and I look forward to watching it. I loved Buffalo '66.

I consider Ye Olde Knobbe Scene to have been an artistic misstep for Vincent Gallo. I don't have to see the whole movie to know that if you are going to have a scene like that, you can expect viewers to be violently ripped away from whatever narrative you have established, to be dragged down instead into prurient wonder about what the actors, not the characters, are doing, about whether it is a prosthesis, whether he really finished his bidness, whether she swallowed, et cetera and ad infinitum. This kind of brouhaha should be beneath Vincent Gallo (instead of Chloë Sevigny's head). His prodigious talent suddenly gets demoted to prodigious endowment.

The fact that Chloë Sevigny is his ex-girlfriend makes it slightly less icky, but it was still a mistake.

However, this faux pas cannot make me not love the man who cycles around the city, practically singlehandedly made Buffalo '66, and said this:

I don't trust or love anyone. Because people are so creepy. Creepy creepy creeps. Creeping around. Creeping here and creeping there. Creeping everywhere. Crippity crappity creepies.

Forgiveness is very satisfying. I can get on with my life now. I adore you, Vincent Gallo.