Look at that man. You can basically see right through to the center of his soul. Can you personally even imagine such depths of pain?
I feel a broken man, completely disconsolate, frustrated and an unimaginable sadness.
Here’s Ronaldo suffering in Sardinia with Nereida Gallardo, with Paris Hilton in an LA nightclub, and with an unidentified woman you’ll never have in a location you can’t afford:
I am a human being and like any human being I suffer and I have the right to suffer alone.
In the next installment of The Unfathomable Pain of Being Ronaldo, the Real Madrid star drives ludicrously expensive sports cars at ridiculous speeds while weeping softly to himself.
Wavves, King of the Beach (Fat Possum)
This will be the first Wavves album that ever didn’t end up making me feel like Nathan Williams still owed me something, even after I stole it from him.
Background (via Wikipedia):
Singer Nathan Williams experienced public breakdown as the band was unable to complete their set at the 2009 Barcelona Primavera Sound Festival. Williams, who admitted he’d taken a cocktail of ecstasy and Valium, fought with drummer Ryan Ulsh and insulted the Spanish crowd, who then pelted him with bottles and a shoe. Apologizing for their performance, Williams admitted the next day that he was addicted to alcohol. As a result, the band canceled the remainder of their European tour. Zach Hill, for the interim, from Hella replaced Ryan Ulsh as the drummer for Wavves. Two members formerly of the late Jay Reatard’s band, Billy Hayes (Drums) and Stephen Pope (Bass), joined Wavves in November 2009.
How about deez nuts, China?
‘It’s spicy but not dry, and a little bit tender but not sticky, and it’s fresh and crisp,’ she said of her team’s recipe.
Come on China; eat our nuts. You know you want to.
How weird was Shakey’s? This is not part 2 of “food roundup,” but I wanted to get something out of the way: how weird was Shakey’s in its prime? How weird can you stand it, brother?
Shakey’s in its 1970s tudor-beamed and beer-soaked splendor provoked a marvelous and completely unprompted set of psycho-responsive feedback loops:
1) It’s Dark! We already mentioned that, but it bears repeating. So dark your eyes had to adjust to the lack of light dark. So dark that after you fetched your pitcher from the bar and your pizza from the counter and sat down at the shiny bench in front of one of the long, smooth, wooden tables, you more or less detected the presence of fellow diners by sonar, or in this case, nearby telltale sounds of furtive stuffing of faceholes with Mojo potatoes and chicken wings.
2) Quiet. Too Quiet. When they weren’t cramming their faces with exotic delights from the all-you-can-eat “bunch-a-lunch” buffet tables, people tended to speak in hushed tones at Shakey’s, although the plink-a-dink player piano never stopped playing, and the vaudevillian sounds of comedic uproar continually ushered forth from this nickolodeon machine or that game with a crank that cost a nickel where you tried to rescue a cow from a burning building with a crane. Even with the frequent addition of live entertainment, the guileless sounds of banjos and sousaphones only served to remind wary eaters that there is no escape from the pyrrhic victory of a plate full of 20 uneaten chicken wings set next to a plate entirely full of gnawed bones.
Sounds would rattle and dislocate inside the huge old barn-like structures, with the calm of a quiet corner suddenly overwhelmed by the sea-chanty singing ministrations issuing froth from the group of off-duty bunco officers currently occupying themselves with drinking in the “private room,” a side space off All-You-Can-Eat Alley containing a pool table, a Hamm’s Beer sign perpetually on the fritz, and a half dozen knocked-over metal-and-vinyl dining chairs, topped off with a healthy dollop of alienation and bitter resentment.
To your left are bathrooms. Enjoy the trip!