Anonymous Communist

My brother-in-law Ryan indulged me in a bit of tomfoolery recently at the Old State Capitol.

One of my favorite euphemisms for stealing music online is saying you’re “sharing.” Rose by any other name and all that.

But damned if I’m not hooked on a little application called Mojo. Developed by Deusty Designs, Mojo is a sort of hybrid of an instant messenger and file-sharing application. You have a buddy list of sorts, and when a buddy is online you can view their iTunes library and download songs from it.

Awesome.

I’ve rationalized the ethical quandary of stealing sharing music in this fashion by imagining Mojo as the modern equivalent of taping a CD (or tape, LP or 8-track, depending on one’s age) from a friend, which we all did back in the day. With it, I’ve picked up all sorts of cool crap.

From Unpainted Huffhines (who first told me about Mojo), I’ve picked up the Avett Brothers and the Raconteurs. I’ve gotten a bunch of old-school (read: Diamond Dave-era) Van Halen and “Totally 80s”-style pablum from Johann. My friend Steve has hooked me up with a bunch of stuff I slept on back in the day: British shoegazers like Ride and My Bloody Valentine and the manic-depressive Wedding Present. Fellow pal Eric has given me a ton of rarities from two of my very favorite bands: Ween and Tortoise.

The downside to all this, of course, is that now my 30GB iPod is too small to hold all the musical goodness.

So what are you waiting for? Go download Mojo and get your steal on! When you get it installed, add “AnonComm” to your buddy list. I normally leave Mojo on all the time, so people can steal from me at their leisure. Try to ignore the embarrassing children’s tunes (Dora and the frightening Jay Jay the Jet Plane) and Mrs. Communist’s poor taste in music (Indigo Girls, 10000 Maniacs, et al).

Finally, Party House Liquors has opened in the (generic name of shopping center) along Koke Mill Road.

Taking advantage of Ride Your Bike to the Beer Store Day today, I rode down there to check out the selection. Right now, there’s nothing that the other beer stores don’t have. They did, though, hand me a notebook with instructions to write down what I would like to see.

I took them up on their offer, giving them the names of half a dozen or so brewing concerns, among them the obligatory New Belgium, Kalamazoo (Mich., the brewer of Bell’s products, which in Illinois are sold under the Kalamazoo name), New Glarus (Wis.) and Stone (San Diego) brewing companies.

That’s as good as I could come up off the top of my head. Do you, fellow beer nerds, have any other suggestions? I will be more than happy to make a return trip with your requests, as it’s about a 3-minute bike ride from Casa Communista.

I suppose I should be happy that a beloved former Cardinal found work again, but in that uniform? Why don’t you run over my dog in your Ferrari while you’re at it, Jim?

And what are Cubs fans to do now that the man they loved to hate is on their team? Will they now cheer for what they once lustily booed: his uppercut swing, his flair for the dramatic, his frosted tips? At least now, Cubs fans won’t have to deal with him killing their pitching anymore.

There’s apparently no truth to the rumor that Carlos Zambrano drilled Edmonds with a fastball when Edmonds walked into the clubhouse.

Still waiting on that economic-stimulus direct deposit. My savings account and I are getting nervous.

Everybody’s mad at the oil companies these days, so welcome to the Breakup of the Standard Oil monopoly edition of the cool band names list. Reader submissions always are welcome.

Bigoted Tinkerbell
Charismatic Terrorists
Democratic Yoda
The Eco-Chicks
Favorite Jason
Grilled Peaches
Jar Full of Vomit
Meat Thief
Paranoid Misanthropy
Racist Corn Pops
Sadistic Genie
Spunky Nun

My longtime softball team is no more. No longer will I make my weekly trips, as I had for the past eight spring/summers, to West Nile Riverside Park to play in the dirt, fall victim to the 10-run rule and be devoured by mosquitos.
Because of this, I am officially a free agent, offering my services to a slo-pitch softball team in need of a shortstop. Or second baseman. Or centerfielder. Or whatever… it doesn’t matter where I play.

Well, I guess it does matter a little bit. I don’t want to pitch, and I don’t want to be catcher (cue joke from Your Neighbor in 3… 2… ). I actually enjoy playing in the field. Because I’m a sucky hitter (yes, even in slo-pitch softball), I need to play in the field to actually feel like I’m contributing to the team’s well-being.

My preference is shortstop of course, but I understand the massive ego involved in being shortstop. Your current shortstop might not want to abdicate for a stranger. So I’ll play most anywhere. Even right field, where I can showcase my Clemente-like arm.

Anyone?

So I was doing a little research just now, trying to find some album artwork, when my travels took me to AllMusic. Imagine my surprise to see its Album of the Day:

The Brand New Heavies‘ “Heavy Rhyme Experience, Vol. 1″ is the Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup of music: Two great tastes (rappers and a live funk band) that taste great together. If there’s any album that is right in my musical wheelhouse, it is this one. The only low points are the two tracks that feature dancehall MCs (one of them, Jamalski’s “Jump n Move,” was on the “Happy Feet” soundie a coupla years ago). The music on those tracks is good; I just can’t stand that style of rapping.

While this album did have a few of the Brand New Heavies’ Delicious Vinyl labelmates (e.g., the Pharcyde and Masta Ace), this was no mere promotional vehicle, as some of the off-label artists included Main Source, Black Sheep and Gang Starr, whose “It’s Getting Hectic” is playable below.

Unfortunately, the “Vol. 1″ verbiage in the album title is a misnomer, as nearly 17 years later there’s yet to be a second volume. Just think of the possibilities Vol. 2 could bring: You could have modern-day rappers like Mos Def, Blue Scholars and Common Sense as well as reunite groups like A Tribe Called Quest and Digable Planets. Whoever has that power, make it so.

Despite my inclination as a lover of animals (in a strictly platonic sense, of course), I find it hard to get worked up about Eight Belles getting shipped off to the glue factory.

In fact, it’s surprising that this kind of thing doesn’t happen more often. What do you expect when an animal that weighs 1000 pounds or more is forced to run at top speed on little spindly-ass legs? If you mess with the bull, you’ll get the horns, as the saying goes.

But of course, the frenzied hordes at PETA have made Eight Belles a martyr for its cause (even though its spokesman cannot defend her position), calling for a ban on racetrack betting, saying the sport is “no better than dogfighting.” They’ve even condemned Hillary Clinton, calling her complicit in the horse’s death.

Yawn. All of that is ridiculous, course. My issue with horse racing is not because it’s allegedly barbaric. I dislike it simply because it’s boring. Watching a bunch of horses run around in a big circle is worse than watching paint dry. The most exciting two minutes in sports? How about the most over-hyped and anti-climactic?

Except when a horse dies, I guess.

In the last post, the comments got threadjacked into a discussion of the tastiness of Thai food. All that talk got me in the mood to get my nose running.

Unfortunately, my preferred purveyor of the Thai (which also was closest to my office) apparently has closed. So Monday night, I headed to Magic Kitchen’s second location (to which I mistakenly thought the MK had moved; thanks to Manx for clearing that up) on my dinner break.

I ordered the Garlic and White Pepper Pork in medium, my usual at Thai Kitch. To my mild dismay, I found that Magic Kitch didn’t make it with asparagus (and carrots!) as Thai Kitch did, but there seemed to be more meat. But as I usually found myself wanting more after finishing a Thai Kitch pile, I struggled to finish the final quarter or so of Magic Kitch’s. Maybe that’s why it was more expensive.

MK’s medium was more spicy than that of TK’s, to the point that I had to blow my nose twice after I was done, not that you wanted to know that. You know it’s good food when it makes your nose run.

And to make them a little homesick, I e-mailed the above picture I took with my phone to dear friends and noted AC commenters Eric and Steve, to which Eric replied:

think i may make that the backdrop on my iPhone

For all you fellow Magic Kitch fans out there, what are your faves dishes there?

Hello and welcome to the bitchin’ storm front edition of the Cool Band Names list. The current master list is close to running out, but fear not, dear readers. There’s a new list bursting with hundreds more names ready to bore and offend!

Big Steaming Pile
Chafed Taint
Decadent Culture
Fast Cow
Ghetto Fabulous
Invisible Sun, Invisible Sons (Police tribute band)
Love Rhombus
Mystery Doritos
Ph.D in Porn
Registered Pleasure
Shattered Rat
Stingray Barb
Undeserved Unhappiness
Unlimited Doohickies

Since May 1, 2003, the day the Iraq War was declared won, there have been approximately 3,924 U.S. soldiers and Marines killed in Iraq.

What, exactly, has that accomplished?