Just to be clear, I’m named after the website.

Another thing I can’t find on the internet (yet): the full text of Arnold Lobel’s Ming Lo Moves the Mountain.

I can’t remember for the life of me how that motherfucker moves that mountain, and it’s killing me.

I just made my first muxtape, appropriately titled “The Sad Women EP.” It’s a mix composed of five female artists that I’ve repeated ad nauseum this year, and I highly recommend it.

Though, be warned: it’s quite possible that many of you will find this collection emotionally devastating. More than once I’ve sent this type of song to one friend or another, only to hear back that they’ve hanged themselves. A sarcastic girlfriend of mine once noticed this trend in my music library, and suggested I record the sound of her crying for my ipod. We both had a good laugh then, and of course, I never did it, but…you do have to admit it would have made a pretty sweet addition to this mix.

If you need to laugh right this minute, I recommend reading the Amazon.com comments for the following book.

UPDATE: The ever-boring Amazon editors have taken the comments down. Rest assured, they were very funny in exactly the ways you’d imagine that would be.

A few days ago, Dave showed me what is undoubtedly the funniest interview of all time. Apparently DMX lives in a cave somewhere–which, after watching this video, sort of makes sense.

Are you following the presidential race?
Not at all.

You’re not? You know there’s a Black guy running, Barack Obama and then there’s Hillary Clinton.
His name is Barack?!

Barack Obama, yeah.
Barack?!

Barack.
What the fuck is a Barack?! Barack Obama. Where he from, Africa?

Yeah, his dad is from Kenya.
Barack Obama?

Yeah.
What the fuck?! That ain’t no fuckin’ name, yo. That ain’t that nigga’s name. You can’t be serious. Barack Obama. Get the fuck outta here.

You’re telling me you haven’t heard about him before.
I ain’t really paying much attention.

I mean, it’s pretty big if a black…
Wow, Barack! The nigga’s name is Barack. Barack? Nigga named Barack Obama. What the fuck, man?! Is he serious? That ain’t his fuckin’ name. Ima tell this nigga when I see him, “Stop that bullshit. Stop that bullshit” [laughs] “That ain’t your fuckin’ name.” Your momma ain’t name you no damn Barack.

But my favorite line of all–in reference to the worried public response after the release of the aforementioned video–is:

What people think, I don’t give a fuck about none of that shit ’cause they ain’t putting money in my pocket. They ain’t taking no money out of my pocket. They all suck dick when they see me so it really doesn’t matter.

For my junior prom (which, I just realized, was ten fucking years ago), my friends and I followed the cliche prom protocols and rented a limo. You’d think we would have gone somewhere fancy for dinner, considering that we were wearing tuxedos and driving around in a limousine, but I think we actually went to Macaroni Grill–a restaurant known for their paper tablecloths that you were encouraged to draw on.

After the sixteen of us sat down to dinner at our incredibly long table, my friend Dan approached Brendan and I with a plan he was incredibly proud of: “We should tell the waiter it’s somebody’s birthday so we get a free dessert!” Despite the cuteness of Dan’s idea, Brendan and I both responded pretty harshly, pointing out to Dan that we weren’t children anymore–we were wearing tuxedos, for christ’s sake–and that his idea was the epitome of childish behavior. We’d spent hundreds of dollars already on that night, we didn’t need to scam a restaurant out of a slice of cake. Understandably, Dan looked pretty embarrassed, and went back to his seat at the other end of the table.

Ten minutes later, from back in the kitchen, the waiters all began singing and clapping. A line of them emerged from the kitchen holding a small cake, and made their way across the restaurant. When Dan turned around to see whose birthday it was, he found that the group of singing waiters had surrounded him, and were singing the song to him. They placed the cake down in front of Dan, and when they finished singing, the rest of the restaurant applauded. I’ve never seen Dan look so surprised and so happy.

(We’d actually called the restaurant the day before to tell them it was Dan’s birthday.)

Adam gave me a fantastic album the other day, so I thought I’d do my part to spread the wealth.

Download: Robert Glasper - y’outta praise him

I’m going to be on the Puerto Rican island of Vieques for the next week–so unless you own a scuba diving shop, you probably won’t be hearing from me. However, when I get back–all tanned, relaxed, and reeking of coconuts–I’ll post a lot of photos.

Until then–enjoy your mundane lives, chumps!

I wonder if Abe Vigoda knows about the Facebook application devoted to monitoring whether or not he’s still alive.

Stephen King on writing, from the forward to Skeleton Crew:

The thing to do is keep trying, I think. It’s better to keep kissing and get your face slapped a few times than it is to give up altogether.