Hey buddies! That wicked-good TV show we have is now repeating in its entirety on AUX, and to try and fool you into watching every episode again (you already watched them all, right?), we managed to wrangle a mess of cool prizes from a mess of cool record labels (Matador! Paper Bag! Dine Alone!). To win, all you have to do is join the show’s new Facebook group. It’s so easy, you should be offended. We hope you aren’t.

In more free news, we’re really excited to be the digital home for Wayfarer’s new full-length, Our Fathers. It’s great. Go get it. And like some kind of visionary collaboration between Kanye, Lil Wayne, Drake, and Eminem, the Juicebox Manor House Band, Junior Battles, just released their latest 7″ on pretty coloured vinyl through Square Up Records, and as a PWYC digital download through If You Make It, the more-Brooklyn incarnation of the kind of spirit we try to foster with this weird little creative hub. Up the punx, everyone, everywhere.

Oh hey bros. We’re back! Twenty ten, listen to Len! Hope everyone had a relaxed or insane end to 2009, depending on your preference. We’ve been busy, making new episodes of our smash hit TV show and using our newfound digital cable celebrity to pass ourselves off as some kind of “experts” on Allan Cross’ TV show. Then we posted another great record for you to love forever. Hey, do you use Twitter? It’s awesome, follow us. If you do, you are automatically entered for a chance to win a great time, every day, when you look at your Twitter. Life! It’s a miracle. Stay real.

We’re pretty sure that headline makes us looks cool. Last week’s stellar episode of the show is now online, featuring us going to California for Warped Tour, an interview with the Reason, and a performance from the Roman Line. This week’s episode, airing tonight at 11pm on AUX, features us trying to find KISS in Quebec City, an interview with Spookey Rueben, and a performance from the Darcys. 1000% bangers.

So. Hostage Life broke up right before Centre of the Universe was sent to press. The band + us decided that pressing hundreds of copies was now probably an unsound idea; pressing was halted, and in fully shitty news, the gorgeous full-art copies we were all stoked about will never see the light of day. The band is, however, pressing 100 blank label copies to mail out to anyone who pre-ordered and to sell at their last few shows. We wish things had worked out, but life is one crazy motherfucker.

Last week’s hotly-anticipated second episode of Talk Show Night at Juicebox Manor–wherein we hit the Steamwhistle Brewery with United Steelworkers of Montreal, talk dead bodies and dating with Alexisonfire, and The Thermals play the basement (no big deal)–is now online. On tonight’s on-the-actual-TV episode (11 p.m.! Rogers 107!): Woodhands, Wax Mannequin, and The Artist Life.

Last week marked the debut of our real-life, parent-impressing TV show, Talk Show Night at Juicebox Manor. Everyone we watched it with said it ruled, and we don’t think they’re biased or unlikely to express dissent, so the show must rule. Now you can watch it online and decide for yourself if we’re full of it or not.

The thing we’ve been yammering about forever is happening, finally, in the real world. The trailer is up. The countdown is on. Tomorrow, Tuesday, October 6th, at 11:00pm, Talk Show Night At Juicebox Manor becomes a TV show that you, your mom, and your best friends can all watch, love, and enjoy forever. If you live in Ontario, Quebec, New Brunswick or Newfoundland, you can catch the fever on Rogers Cable 107. Elsewhere, head to www.aux.tv to fall in love all over again. We are stoked. You are stoked.

While we squeaked in with the midnight release of Hostage Life’s utterly rad sophomore full-length record, Centre of the Universe, we were faced with the simultaneous complete meltdown of our server. After endless discussions, revisited mixes, couriered masters and fierce uploading, this whole night rested on two pots of coffee, one large pizza, and an endless series of calls to some guys in California, offering indisputable proof that God hates Hostage Life and doesn’t want you to hear their record. Do you need a better reason to download it right now?

(Pictured: Webmaster losing his mind trying to not fail at delivering maximum rock to you on schedule.)

We’ve talked about it in dark rooms with large beers, and there have been murmurs over these interwebs, but we are officially making it official: Hostage Life will be releasing their massively rad sophomore full-length through the Juicebox Recording Co. on September 30th. It’s called Centre of the Universe. It’s incredible. Donny Cooper recorded it and Alex Snelgrove did the artwork. There will be vinyl. You will be stoked. Check out this video for a snippet of just how good this record is going to be. If you like punk rock and thinking about stuff, you will be down.

All you really need to do is peep our little blurb for the latest JBR release to see how much we love this band, but just to drive it home, Horses are an incredible band, Brotherly Love is an incredible recording, and we’re stoked and honoured to be able to share it with you, glorious internet. If you like rock music, people that are nice, songs that are good, or enjoying life, you should probably give it a download.

When we were younger, thinner, and much bigger fans of the first Fenix TX album, there was this band from Windsor, Ontario, who were awesome. They were called Sewing With Nancie. They changed their name and stopped playing all their old songs without ever playing a real farewell show, so six years later, they’re playing six final shows and putting things to rest for good. And we’re releasing their discography. High school awesome times deploy.

There’s this movie that rules. It’s called Dazed and Confused. We hadn’t watched it ’round the JB Manor in a little while, but in a moment of beautiful serendipity, we basically re-watched the movie and got introduced to Party At The Moontower the next day. These guys seem to be dedicated solely to rocking extremely hard and referencing Richard Linklater’s best movie all day, ever day. It’s a rad combination that works well if you like good music and sweet films. The decision to release their debut EP was a pretty easy one, despite them living way far away in “beautiful” and “serene” Vancouver, which has always seemed way too simultaneously bourgeoisie and dangerous for us. Mostly because it is awesome. Enjoy it, and relish in what a dink Fred O’Bannion was.

When we started putting out records last December, I doubt anyone anticipated we’d already be at a total of ten gorgeous records by May. Well, what’s up. Ten records. The latest of which is the kind of high-water mark I didn’t think we’d reach for a while: the complete discography of Burlington punks the Video Dead. The first time I ever saw them play was at the Bovine a few years back; their singer kept spitting beer on everyone and he scared the shit out of me. Plus their bassist had this weird chud-baby-skull-thing bass, which was also kind of disconcerting. Then we all became friends now we’re releasing the career-spanning A Face For Radio… But Not The Songs. Life is rad like that sometimes.

In other news that doesn’t make my high school brain fold in on itself, we’ve got some big plans for this summer. Like most seasons. This time, watch out for a Repo Man tribute night. Yeah. Details and Emilio worship to follow.

Have you watched the Terminator films recently? Well, a very potent strain of “feeling like total shit” has swept JBHQ this week, and seriously, those first two movies own your life. The third one is just kind of funny. In non-Terminator-related news, the Recording Co. is pleased to announce the release of Saint Alvia VS. Jeremy Chambers, our first release from anyone ever nominated for a Juno. It’s awesome, go download it. Right on.

Life is a beautiful, precious gift. Celebrate with: the new LUM EP! Luc Doucet’s recession wisdom! Our March 6th party at the Bovine with Video Dead, Junior Battles, and Fog of Leprosy. Chris Nash’s love of attending movies in Sault Ste. Marie. And all the awesome records we’re putting out in the next two months. And our TV show. Seriously.

In December, we launched our record label with a totally sweet comp of local dudes and ladies that is probably still worth checking out. Then we released a Christmas album. Now we’re really in the shit.

The Little Millionaires are the first band to release an actual real-life record here. They’re from Toronto, count ex-members of Ontario punk rock royalty in their ranks (Bombs Over Providence, Marilyn’s Vitamins), and are genuinely good dudes who will drink you under the table and then help you walk home. We’re unbelievably stoked to be a part of bringing rad music by rad people to you, more rad people. And now, a word from the band:

Courtesy of Mr. Adam Cook: The Little Millionaires’ DIY is an STD was a self-made mess in the erstwhile tradition of late ’90s punk bands who used to brag about how poor they lived and much crap they silk screened their name onto. The original less-than-fifty physical copies of this disc were all sold at a Toronto live show in October ‘08 and were little more than a spray-painted cardsleeve (that never seemed to dry) and CDs labeled with pictures of the bands’ testicles. Now released digitally with new artwork and fewer balls, DIY is a rough, tough demo and first release from a band that promises… well… nothing.

Download it now and join the party.

Attention awesome folks: Running a blog is great, but like most normal people, we’ve got other, non-blog interests. Interests like our recently-launched record label. And our soon-to-launch television show (really). And a few assorted other schemes. So enjoy the new layout, download our records, keep reading the blog, and get ready for great times all the time.

So CFNY has a great show on Tuesday nights called Punkorama. Last year they held their first award show, and Strike Anywhere let me drink a lot of their gin. It was a great time. 2009 marks the second annual “F.U. Awards” (take that, authority) and the first annual time Junior Battles has been nominated. Right? No, really.

We’re nominated for the “Young Jedi” award for “Best New Band of ‘08″ [Ed.'s note: LOLOLOL]. Also nominated in the same category are our bestest friends the Little Millionaires, but fuck those chumps and vote for us ’cause I want my mom to be proud of me (actually we love the Millionaires and we’re releasing their record, so vote for them too. But not as many times as you vote for us). You can also vote for some non-us related stuff, and when you do that, make sure you vote for fellow JBdc contributor Ben Rispin’s band, Saint Alvia. Keep your eyes on the prize.

Seriously:

VOTE HERE

Thanks, I owe you a beer.

[Ed.'s note: but really, Jr Battles is pretty much the JUICEBOXdotcom house band. Every member writes for us, is a babe, and loves you more and more each and every passing day (see Aaron, Joel, Justin, Sam). Love them like they love you.]

What’s Worst Mondays without a dark and villainous foil? That’s the kind of thinking that forced us to create Best Fridays. So for all our weekend warrior brethren: Wooooo, T-G-I-F, right? Herein we hope to bookend your awful week by quizzing our previous Worst Mondays candidate about slightly more encouraging things. Every Friday!

So the Trunk reunion is tonight. It’s going to be rad. You’ve got Trunk, obz. Plus the Video Dead, featuring JUICEBOXdotcom contributer and super dude Ben Rispin. And The Grave. And Tilt’em. It’s free, and any donations you find fit to offer up will go to a Burlington charity called the Healthy Basket Program. Doors at 9. Red Rooster. Burlington. Pop punk forever.

Best injury
I don’t really have any good/funny injury stories. I’ve broken my nose three times. And I’ve sustained nine concussions. Maybe I do have injury stories, but I just can’t remember them?

Best historical figure
Neil Armstrong. Either that man truly walked on the face of the moon, or he was the greatest actor and liar the world has ever known. Either way, pretty bad-assed!

Best shirt
I’m a big skate tee guy. So I’ve had quite a few over the years that I’ve loved. But I guess if I had to choose one, it will be one that I still own. It’s a Black Label tee with a line of seven bombs on it and says
“Death From Above” below the bombs. No idea why, it’s really nothing special, but I love it. That, and my autographed Gretzky jersey.

Best thing to do with $20
Buy as much beer as it will get you. I highly recommend Pabst Blue Ribbon Light. That shit is gooood.

Best party trick
I can successfully “fall” down the stairs of any home without sustaining a major injury (knock on wood). We used to actually have competitions. I think the prize was usually a chocolate bar.

Best monster
I’m not into monsters. Unless you consider the Bumble from Rudolph to be true a monster? Gretzky was a monster of a hockey player, so I’ll choose good old Wayner.

Best question ever asked of you in an interview. Now answer it:
“Fuck no! That was NOT us! Why the hell would we piss in every ones drinks?! Well, except for that guy. Yeah, we did piss in his drink. Sorry man.”

At JUICEBOX HQ, we’ve never really had a case of the Mondays because we don’t have real-people jobs. But for those feeling a bit garfield this A.M., feel free to wallow in other people’s most hated things. Every Monday!

Sometimes, when I close my eyes really tight, it’s the mid-90s again and pop-punk rules. Then I wake up dudes like this are famous and I get way bummed out. As if to alleviate my seasonal punk rock depression, Trunk are reuniting this week. For one show. January 2. Red Rooster. Burlington. It’s going to be awesome and will make you want to light your stupid cut-offs on fire and buy a nice pair of unnecessarily baggy shorts and a skateboard.

My knowledge of Trunk comes exclusively from dubbed cassette tapes, which is a pretty romantic way to remember any band. They were just hitting their stride when I was finishing middle school, and as a result, they were one of the first punk bands I heard that made me question my devotion to Korn and musical theatre. They ruled.

The band formed in 1992 for a high school talent show. After two cassette releases, they signed to legendary local label Raw Energy Records, where they released Beaned Up Polkas, Yank to Release, and Throwin’ the Horns. Trunk played over 500 shows, toured North America a bunch of times, made three music videos, and starred in commercials for Tiger Toys and Ontario Hydro (easily their greatest achievement). They broke up 1999 without an official farewall show, having opened for bands like Rancid, Propagandhi, Good Riddance, MXPX, The Get Up Kids, DOA, SNFU, Day-Glo Abortions and Gob, and cementing their place in Canada’s pop-punk pantheon.

They went on to play in bands like Somehow Hollow and Grade. And now they’re back for one more show with no cover. Basically, it’s a steal of a deal and it’s going to rule. Peep the Facebook invite here, and peep bassist Jerry Filice’s answers to our awesome questions here:

Worst day-job
Dishwasher at the Keg. I hated every fucking second of it. Smashed shit rather than washing it, hid utensils, threw out dishes, and one night I even cut myself so I could leave early.

Worst haircut
I’m not afraid to admit that for 2 days, I had a “swoop“. Terrible. I’d never been more uncomfortable in my life.

Worst subculture
It’s a tie between dog park people that form cliques at the park, and heavily devoted Starbucks patrons. Why do people that drink Starbucks need that little hand protector on the cup? Is Tim Horton’s coffee somehow colder, or do we Timmy’s drinkers just have less asshole-like hands?

Worst date
The worst date I’ve ever been on is a date that I never actually went on. I went past my usual comfort level and actually approached a girl when I worked at the mall a lifetime ago. I asked her out and she said yes. Then 5 minutes before leaving to pick her up on the night of the date, she called and said she couldn’t go because she forgot she had her cousins birthday party. Oddly enough, she didn’t reschedule with me.

Worst invention
The “Fox Puck“. What a piece of shit! I always thought it had an infrared sensor that the camera picked up for all of our optically challenged friends south of the boarder. But no, just LED lights! ACTUAL lights IN the puck! I saw one on eBay a couple months ago. So not only was it a stupid invention, but it was also a total piece of shit.

Worst purchase
The Goober Patrol CD Vacation. It was the end of my So Cal punk innocence. Up until that point, if it had a Fat Wreck Chords or Epitaph logo on it, I would buy it without a listen. This record was a pile, and forced me to begin to question everything in life. I still hate it to this day, yet keep it in my collection as a reminder.

Worst way to die
In any situation where Jazz is playing. Fuck do I hate Jazz.

What’s Worst Mondays without a dark and villainous foil? That’s the kind of thinking that forced us to create Best Fridays. So for all our weekend warrior brethren: Wooooo, T-G-I-F, right? Herein we hope to bookend your awful week by quizzing our previous Worst Mondays candidate about slightly more encouraging things. Every Friday!

Alright, this hasn’t been our busiest week. But it was Christmas and we started a record label, so between all the turkey and family and free rock and roll, I don’t feel too bad about the state of things over here.

But we didn’t forget about our friend Jeff Rosenstock and his pretty much the best answers to this crap so far. Plus, we stole his idea for an online-only donation-based record label. Seriously, these are the best answers so far. Everyone else, time to step your game up.

Best injury
About a year ago my friend Brett from the Riot Before came to visit New York right when I moved to Brooklyn. I parked my van with all of my stuff in a nicer neighborhood and longboarded to the bar where we met up. While jumping between bars, we rode the longboard together in the rain and everything was fine. When we got to the next bar, I bought Brett a 32 oz. beer but he’s a baby so kept pouring his beer in my cup. When I left it was pretty cold so I decided to skate to the train station instead was a good compromise between skating home drunk or walking to the train station in the cold. I actually made it just about to the train station fine, but when going up the curb I flew in the air and landed on my wrist. Since I was pretty hammered I didn’t feel anything until I woke up at 6 in the morning because the pain was so crazy. It was either a fracture or a sprain, but since I didn’t have health insurance I just bought a 15 dollar brace at the pharmacy, and tried my best to stay off it ’cause I had a tour coming up. However, I couldn’t refrain from going to the bar without my brace and re-fucking my wrist while high fiving someone who had the same sweatshirt as me, bringing me back to the brace for another two weeks. Dumb dumb.

Best historical figure
Is Doug E. Doug a historical figure?

Best shirt
For my kickball team a few years ago, I took a few hours to painstakingly craft a stencil of Karl Malone’s face for our jerseys (we were Karl Malone and the Mailmen)… the stencil was super thin though, so after like two shirts it looked kinda distorted and gnarly. I got one of the least gnarly shirts and I would wear it every day if it didn’t say “666″ on the back of it… I still wear it quite a bit though.

Best thing to do with $20
What is there besides skipping lots of meals, not eating anything but rice, walking or riding your bike instead of taking the subway, getting your music off the internet, asking your friends to put you on guest lists for their five-dollar shows, then spending that twenty dollars on tipping well on overpriced bottles and cans of beers at bars in Brooklyn? I guess the best way to spend $20 is taking your girlfriend out to dinner or buying your buddies a drink. You owe ‘em.

Best party trick
I can play songs on my face by slapping my hollowed out cheeks. I can also fit my fist in my mouth.

Best monster
In all honesty I thought that the monster that chased Janice Ian from Mean Girls down the subway tunnel in Cloverfield and then dug into her back and made her eyes bleed and her body explode was pretty fucking bad ass. I also thought the smoke monster on Lost was pretty cool, but we need more action from it!

Best question ever asked of you in an interview. Now answer it:
From Scott Heisel, regarding Alternative Press’s 100 Bands You Need To Know in 2007:

“Some meaningful quotes from you about the band—your sound; what makes you special; why you do what they do; which is cooler, monkeys or ninjas; stuff like that. Just responding via e-mail is A-OK for this; no need to set up a phone interview. The more in-depth you can be, the better.”

My answer, circa January 2007: [Ed's note: The following is hilarious, poignant, unedited and far, far, far too long to be on the front page of a blog. Read it.] More… »

At JUICEBOX HQ, we’ve never really had a case of the Mondays because we don’t have real-people jobs. But for those feeling a bit garfield this A.M., feel free to wallow in other people’s most hated things. Every Monday!

Well, this worked out nicely. In case you haven’t noticed, we launched a record label on Friday. Then we were worried if we’d have a good Worst Monday/Best Friday this week. Then Jeff Rosenstock got back to us. Besides playing in a sweet punk rock band, Rosenstock is also the dude behind Quote Unquote Records, the label we blatantly stole the model for Juicebox Recording Co. from. So, thanks!

Rosenstock’s musical career starts with the Arrogant Sons of Bitches, a ska-punk band from Long Island. They were pretty good. Then Rosenstock started making music by himself on his laptop and putting it online for free. This is when shit got real. Under the Bomb the Music Industry! moniker, Rosenstock’s weird laptop-punk rock got really interesting. Careening between sounding like Rx Bandits and Neutral Milk Hotel, Rosenstock was making some really exciting music. And he was releasing it in a (as far as we all know) brand-new way: online, for free, and with a sugested PayPal donation. The idea worked. Kids downloaded the band’s music from Quote Unquote Records’ website, they donated enough money to keep the whole thing afloat, and Rosenstock began touring Bomb the Music Industry! as a weird punk rock collective that only sometimes played with a drummer.

Since then, Bomb the Music Industry! has recorded an album with live drums (!!!) and Quote Unquote has released a shitton of great music by bands like Cheeky, the Riot Before, and We Versus the Shark. And, as of last week, they’ve now influenced at least one group of people to totally rip them off. Kudos, bros.

Worst day-job
My least favorite day job was this one temping job I had at an investment banking firm. I know that sounds interesting as hell to begin with, but my duties were particularly thrilling. My job was to push around a soda cart and make sure that each conference room had two cokes, three diet cokes, two snapples, etc. Once or twice a day I would also refill the refrigerators where these sodas were coming from. Pretty sweet, right? A lot of my job consisted of sitting down and doing nothing and staring at the wall. My supervisor who I was sharing a workspace with told me I couldn’t use the internet, so I was relegated to reading the extensions on the wall for hours until my soda cart round came up. One day I was working and there was a newspaper on the desk, so I was reading through it instead of staring at the wall. After about an hour of reading the paper and being told that there was no work to do I clarified, “Well, it’s okay if I read this paper then while I’m waiting to do the soda cart thing,” to which my supervisor said, “Actually, no it isn’t.” When I said, “Okay, well I just really think it isn’t useful for me to sit and stare into space for eight hours,” I was given the exciting task of taking Windex and wiping down all the cabinet doors in the entire office. That job shiiiiiiit.

Worst haircut
I think that the worst haircut I ever had was when I was a kid and I asked my barber to spike my hair, but my brother had already had spiked hair and I guess someone didn’t want us to have the same haircut so my barber gave me what was called a “parrot spike”, which is apparently when your hair is slicked back. So I looked like a fucking asshole eight-year-old, but I guess since I don’t have a photo of that one here’s a photo of me making a decision as an adult to look like a fucking asshole twenty-year-old.

Worst subculture
The worst subculture ever takes place in Brooklyn and can kinda be described as when hipsters hate hipsters. Basically a bunch of kids who are super snobby and pretentious about the music that they like and I guess they feel so guilty about being shitty that they spend a lot of their time making fun of people who act like that. There is an easy cure which is simply being more open minded about the things other people like and not being an asshole if you think their taste is lame. This also applies to white kids who have helped to gentrify their neighborhoods complaining about gentrification as well as college graduates complaining about college kids.

Worst date
I honestly don’t think I’ve ever been on a date ’cause I am a pretty bad socializer. One time I was hanging out with my girlfriend at our apartment on a cold day when we were getting cozy in bed and I put on City of God which is based on a true story and has a lot of kids getting murdered. She wasn’t too pumped.

Worst invention
Condoms. Guys, am I right?

Worst purchase
When I was on tour this summer I bought a bunch of keyboards at Guitar Center which they assured me I could return within 60 days (one keyboard) or two years (other keyboard). I bought them just to fuck around with every intention to return them when I got home as I couldn’t afford them, but I was lied to about the return policy and man, I could really use that eight hundred bucks right now more than I can use a heavy ass midi controller with weighted keys and drumpads that don’t do anything. Also, any miniature guitar I’ve ever bought has been a pretty fucking stupid purchase.

Worst way to die
How does pain work? Do you stop feeling pain once it’s just so crazy that you can’t deal with it? If pain is always pain then I think that having your skin peeled off and being eaten alive would be pretty bad. If not though, then getting buried alive would be awful especially cause you’d have to be alive for a while before you die in a small box of your piss and shit. Drowning also seems pretty terrible ’cause breathing rules shit.

In an attempt to get the music we love in this city heard by more people, we have started a record label. Except we are cheap and poor, which, coupled with our youthful technological resourcefulness, means it’s an online-only, donation-based record label. It’s called Juicebox Recording Co. What’s up.

Our first release is a compilation of bands we like from Toronto. Some of the big-money shit on it includes unreleased songs from the Flatliners, Saint Alvia, This is Picture (ex-Mare), the Little Millionaires (ex-Bombs Over Providence), and the Wooden Sky. It’s really great. And is kind of all over the map genre-wise. Which we think is cool.

As for all the online/donation babble, we basically think that awesome music should be readily available to awesome people, who can then make up their own mind as to what that music is worth (monetarily) to them. We stole the whole idea from Quote Unquote Records, who rule and are so punk it kills me. Thanks, dudes.

We hope you enjoy these twenty songs and you tell all your friends all about how much fun you had downloading and listening to them. Music is so fucking great.

Enter the Recording Co. to download your own spectacular, personalized copy now.

What’s Worst Mondays without a dark and villainous foil? That’s the kind of thinking that forced us to create Best Fridays. So for all our weekend warrior brethren: Wooooo, T-G-I-F, right? Herein we hope to bookend your awful week by quizzing our previous Worst Mondays candidate about slightly more encouraging things. Every Friday!

Todd Taylor is responsible for one the best fanzines ever, Razorcake. And he edited Flipside. And he wrote some books. Clearly a good dude. Onwards and upwards!

Best injury
I’ve been scalped by going through a windshield. I was ejected from the car, then hit by oncoming traffic. I was thirteen.

I broke my leg so violently skating a pool so that when I looked down, my foot was pointing in the opposite direction. That was two years ago.

I broke my pinkie toe playing crab soccer. High school.

Take your pick.

Best historical figure
Got to go with Gandhi. Motherfucker took no shit but didn’t hit anyone. And unlike Martin Luther King, Jr., he didn’t have the Deacons of Defense behind him when he was preaching nonviolence.

Best shirt
The one I find myself gravitating to is Blöödhag’s “The Sooner You Go Deaf, The More Time You Have to Read” t-shirt. Fits well and condenses my world view nicely.

Best thing to do with $20
For $20, that pretty much covers an evening of DIY punk rock, a record directly from a touring band, and some bagged beers. That shit’s tight.

Best party trick
I’ve never, ever been out-burped. On a good day, I can do the alphabet.

Best monster
I wholeheartedly recommend The Flesh Eaters. The big-ass monster at the end that’s little more than Nazi-made protoplasm activated by electricity and bad intentions is badass and hilarious at the same time.

Best question ever asked of you in an interview. Now answer it:
Actually, Sean Carswell (co-Razorcake dude) and I were getting interviewed once and Kat Jetson, the interviewer, asked, “If you were a roller coaster, what would you be named?”

Without waiting a second, he replied, “Dangling Fury.”

This is Sam’s weekly column where he writes about a band he likes and tries to make the punk tag bigger in the sidebar tag cloud. Noble pursuits, dude.

Holy shit you have no idea how hard it is to find pictures of a band named “Virgins”. First of all, they’re not the only one. Secondly, that doesn’t even matter because you’ll never find a picture of either on this damned perv-web. Even searching for some combination of “virgins” and “fest 7″, where I first saw the band, gave me nothing but pictures of Oasis at this year’s Virgin Fest in Toronto. So that’s my day. This is a picture of Sam Johnson, the band’s singer guy, shouting around in his old band, New Mexican Disaster Squad. But just imagine he’s playing slightly more melodic pop-punk-cum-classic-hardcore instead of full-speed-ahead ’80s hardcore, and it will work just fine for you.

So Virgins is Sam’s post-NMDS band, and, not surprisingly, they rule. Where NMDS sounded like Black Flag, Virgins kind of sound like None More Black covering the first half of Minor Threat’s discography. I loved NMDS, and I think it’s even better. Because I just love pop-punk that doesn’t make me feel wimpy. Their debut full-length, Miscarriage, is a 1000% awesome songs recorded by the guy from Lords, so you know it sounds spacious and dirty. It’s got songs about how Religious America is crazy and how Jim Jones was crazy. It’s fast and it’s catchy and it’s gritty and it’s occasionally heavy but not in a real heavy way more just in the sense that it’s got guitars and a bass and drums and is infused with a love of the Damned who I guess weren’t that heavy but whatever it’s awesome all the time.

Playboy has been forced to issue an apology to the whole country of Mexico over this, the cover of the Mexican edition of the magazine which depicts a very Virgin Mary looking model looking very nude. The issue came out on the first of December, a few days before some big festival where a bunch of people try to placate themselves and deal with their own pending mortality (also known as the annual Roman Catholic pilgrimage to the Mexico City shrine of the Virgin of Guadalupe). As a result, a bunch of Roman Catholics were deeply, profoundly offended. Apparently Playboy just wanted to “reflect a Renaissance-like mood”, which sounds kind of sexy, I guess. I’m sure the Pope is down.

As reported over at my main employer’s HQ, this awesome dude named Dante Knoxx was trying to sell his soul on eBay. With a starting bid of £25,000.50, Knoxx was prepared to sign over a percent of his annual income, 10 percent of the intellectual works of his band, Paradigm, along with an annual soul report and a birthday card on Knoxx’s birthday. And, you know, his fucking soul. Then eBay, being total buzzkills, came in and closed his offer two hours before the auction’s scheduled end. Even though he had no bidders, Knoxx was still bummed, and rightly so: they let Robert Johnson’s soul go for a measly 60 bucks about a month ago. The internet is totally insane.

Guess? It rules, too. That’s it. See you soon.

At JUICEBOX HQ, we’ve never really had a case of the Mondays because we don’t have real-people jobs. But for those feeling a bit garfield this A.M., feel free to wallow in other people’s most hated things. Every Monday!

It’s always a pleasure to interact with dudes like Todd Taylor, the people who prove that punk rock, with its “ethics” and “ideals,” doesn’t end when you leave high school. Todd Taylor is the proof that you can operate completely outside of mainstream media culture and live. Happily. And contribute to a valuable, viable culture that you actually believe in. For Taylor, that’s punk rock. We’re in.

Taylor is kind of the punk rock journalist guy. He was the managing editor of Flipside, the Los Angeles-based punk fanzine/bible, until it shuttered in 2001. Looking to keep the dream alive, he and Sean Carswell founded Razorcake that same year (for some reason not going with the way-awesomer name Barbed Wire Asshole). Since then, Razorcake has become an institution all its own — a bi-monthly fanzine, a record label, and a partnership with Gorsky Press all keep Taylor and Carwell pretty busy.

Somehow, Taylor has also managed to find time to publish a collection of some his best interviews in Born to Rock and edit a collection of fiction called Shirley Wins, his first novel. He does what he does well, and he does it all through completely independent means and channels. Which rules. We salute you, Mr. Taylor. Now, your turn.

Worst day-job
When I first moved to L.A., I worked for a temp agency. Got a gig at Bank of America Business Credit. Went to work before the sun came up, got off after it came down as the main desk secretary because I’m a fast typist. On the up side, I got to see some yuppie holiday freakouts. A guy broke his hand by karate chopping an elevator door because it didn’t open quickly enough. Ties look like nooses on me and people can tell.

Worst haircut
I’ve only had two non-family-member-doing-it haircuts in my life. Pretty basic shit. Of the two non-family ones, I came out of the hair salon like one of the Thompson Twins. The lady.

Worst subculture
Pretty much any one where I’m greeted by, “What the fuck you looking at, faggot?” which is quite a few of them.

Worst date
I forget if it was prom or homecoming, but the nice lady I lost my virginity to that night said she was sleepy afterwards, so I went home at about 10 p.m. She got back in her car, went to the casino we visited for dinner, then had sex with the comedian we’d seen earlier.

Worst invention
Capitalism appropriated through Social Darwinism into becoming the meanest fucking way to take money from people ever conceived. Or nuclear power/warfare. That turned out to be a real pickle. Third choice would be the for-home combination hot dog bun warmer, hot dog heater. Boil the hot dogs in a pan, put the bun on the lid.

Worst purchase
I thought it was a great purchase at the time. 1972 Ford Courier pickup, mustard, roof rack with tennis balls at the end, so I wouldn’t puncture my skull when I got in. Loved it until it developed a phantom electrical problem. I had a gun pulled on me in Inglewood because the backfire was mistaken as gunfire. Months later, I was driving down the freeway, it backfired the rear of the muffler clean off, the back pressure started an engine fire, and I just sat there for a couple of minutes on the side of the freeway, defeated. I put out the flames right before they’d burned through the fuel line, seconds away from a CHiPs moment.

Worst way to die
When I was a kid, my brother and I would hide from each other and scare and hit one another. One of my best shots was picking the lock on the bathroom door and waiting to see his elbows go up when he was shampooing his hair. That way, I knew he’d have his eyes closed and hands out of the way. I punched him full force through the shower curtain. Probably the best shot I ever got on him. The worst was when I decided to hide in a cedar hope chest. I got in and it locked. Perfect coffin for a kid. About three hours later, my brother, who was making a model plane in the garage, came looking for me and I’d almost asphyxiated. Still have a hard time with cedar and watching baseball on TV. There was a Cardinals game on that I could see through the keyhole. I really thought I was going to die.

So what if she converted to Christianity and became a Baptist missionary in Angola and worked with Billy Graham in the ’70s? Angola seems like an alright place, and I’m sure Billy Graham isn’t actually a total douche. There’s very little from the 1950s that our internet-ruinated eyes can still find classy and sexy, but godamn if Bettie Page wasn’t just as sexy in 2008 as 1958. She was unashamedly sexually liberated in a time when it really wasn’t cool to be unashamedly sexually liberated, and her hair cut ruled. Parkdale is crying. You will be missed, but seriously.

What’s Worst Mondays without a dark and villainous foil? That’s the kind of thinking that forced us to create Best Fridays. So for all our weekend warrior brethren: Wooooo, T-G-I-F, right? Herein we hope to bookend your awful week by quizzing our previous Worst Mondays candidate about slightly more encouraging things. Every Friday!

So Jessica Hopper blogs, writes, and is generally better than all of us. You’ll notice that we normally refer to the people we write about as “better than you”, but this time, we’re lumping our omnipotent selves in with you lowly peasants. Yeah, she’s better than JUICEBOXdotcom. We’re pretty weirded out, too.

Best injury
Fell off a ladder while holding a scissors and stabbed myself in the ass. I was pranking my roommate by gluing some of his belongings to the ceiling, so I was getting my karmic due.

Best historical figure
Herzog c. Fitzcarraldo and or Lincoln c. 1863.

Best thing to do with $20
Buy cards and stamps and write to elderly relatives.

Best party trick
Not partying.

Best monster
America.

This is Sam’s weekly column where he writes about a band he likes and tries to make the punk tag bigger in the sidebar tag cloud. Noble pursuits, dude.

Whiskey Trench are this awesome band from Montreal that I first got into when they played all the Saint Catherines‘ Quebec release shows. I was interviewing Hugo from S.C. and I couldn’t really understand what he was saying because I was on a shitty phone and he’s got a pretty thick Quebecois accent and I’m sort of an asshole. So he was talking about this band and it took me a bunch of really intense Googlefying variations of the syllables I was able to decipher before I realized the band was “Whiskey Trench”, which is obviously an insanely rad name. Since then I’ve been convinced that they’re one of the best punk bands in Montreal even though I’ve never seen them live. I was reminded of this fact today when I stumbled on If You Make It, which is basically the best website on the planet. If you check out their section of free (awesome) albums, you can download Whiskey Trench’s The Good Sun, a fast, gritty, super-rad and out-of-print 7″originally released by Dead Broke Rekerds. It’s really good. Go, now.

If you’ve ever needed further proof that most of the great people who live in North America are xenophobic and vulnerable to suggestion, there’s a big ol’ storm a-brewin’ in the mall this Christmas. Supposedly, the good folks at Fisher Price are marketing a doll to the impressionable gentile youth of our nation that coos, giggles, says “mama” and, of course “Islam is the light.” Check it:

According to Mattel, Little Mommy Cuddle just makes sounds, none of which sound like “night” or “light.” Those sound files are compressed and played through a tiny, crappy speaker. So there’s an outside chance terrified parents could hear demonic, Child’s Play-like phrases. Enough of them have complained and returned the toys to prompt Mattel to eliminate the potentially offensive sound-thing from future runs of the dolls. But outside of a few Targets in the U.S., the toys appear to be staying on store shelves. Which is prompting a lot of uproar on the internet from people who seem convinced that an unintelligible sound clip is going to turn all their children into terrorists. Just listen to the enlightened words of Jim Markell, founder and director of Olive Tree Ministries:

This is not a healthy thing to be putting out in the marketplace when we’re in a war on terror, and little children are so susceptible to the messages they hear — even from a doll — then to take them into the school and talk about them. So yeah, this is a serious thing.

But this obviously isn’t the first time overzealous Americans have heard weird shit coming out of dolls.

Remember the Teletubby that said, “Bite my butt“?

How about the Little Mermaid doll that called people “sluts“?

And finally, the killer Tickle Me Elmo? Oh yeah, an the other killer Elmo.

At JUICEBOX HQ, we’ve never really had a case of the Mondays because we don’t have real-people jobs. But for those feeling a bit garfield this A.M., feel free to wallow in other people’s most hated things. Every Monday!

Jessica Hopper writes good stuff about punk rock. And other kinds of music. And things that aren’t music, like feminism and bed-wetting. She’s really good at what she does. We kind of wish we were that good at what we do. But hey. You need goals, right?

Hopper’s been cutting and pasting zines since she was a teen, but it was Hit It or Quit It, a collectively-compiled collection of music, culture, and general zine-y writing, that launched her into the upper-echelon of zine-people. Her work has since appeared in bucket-ton of places, from the Chicago Tribune to Stop Smiling to SPIN to her own popular blog, Tiny Lucky Genius. Her long-running column in the recently(ish) defunct Punk Planet yielded one of the magazine’s most infamous pieces, “Emo: Where the Girls Aren’t“, a controversial, smart, really, really relevant examination of the inherent misogyny of everyone’s favourite “genre/plague”, as Hopper describes things.

Currently hard at work editing a book for young girls about how to start to a band and be awesome, Hopper’s getting ready to help educate a whole new wave of smart, forward-thinking punks. She took some time away from this noble pursuit to tell us about buying rugs on eBay.

Worst day-job
I have been self-employed/freelance since I was 19 and the last job I had was the worst. I was a cocktail waitress at this restaurant/club in Hollywood that did a lot of corpo music biz and movie wrap parties. The tacit agreement was that sure for the $300-a-night pay you were not to bitch and smile big despite that B-list actors and gross A&R dudes were petting you like a Labrodoodle.

Worst haircut
Senior year of high school, I shaved my head. I looked like a Mon Chi-Chi.

Worst subculture
I would say nu-neon-hippy, but you can’t really call something sub when it’s Urban Outfitters dominant paradigm.

Worst date
The ones where I didn’t realize it was a date until I was on it.

Worst invention
Apathy

Worst purchase
Rugs off eBay. One arrived encrusted with a kilo of sand.

Worst way to die
I’ve spent a lot of time at hospitals and nursing homes this year and I think those are as brutal as any other way to go, in a sterile environment, hooked to machines, filled with super-medicines, attended to rotating shifts of strangers trying to keep you from dying. It’s just grim.

Alright, everyone who’s sick of the rampant takeover of this website by my Canadian Political Fury, I’m sorry. Get ready for more. But this time, politics has booze! So, you love it. Also, I’m not really sorry.

We here at JUICEBOXdotcom have never tried to hide the fact that we think all Australians are totally nuts. To drive this point home, it looks like they’re considering installing breathalyzers in their parliament. Because shit like this keeps happening:

“State police minister Matt Brown was dumped from his portfolio in September after allegedly “dirty” dancing in his underwear over the chest of a female colleague after a drunken post-budget office party.”

Awesome. Totally awesome. And, you know:

“New South Wales state lawmaker Andrew Fraser resigned from his conservative opposition frontbench role after shoving a female colleague in the wake of Christmas party celebrations.”

Apparently Sydney’s Daily Telegraph started calling for breath-testing politicians before they enter parliament, and now they might get their wish. Good job, England. You didn’t have anywhere better to put a penal colony in the 1700s?

This is Sam’s weekly column where he writes about a band he likes and tries to make the punk tag bigger in the sidebar tag cloud. Noble pursuits, dude.

There was this band called Latterman that ruled. They broke up because they’re clearly dinks who don’t care that I never got to see them play. I’ve forgiven them, though, because everything they recorded is fucking perfect and I love it. Anyway, it turns out I’m the dink ’cause I missed seeing Iron Chic, the new, awesome, ex-Latterman band, at the Fest this year. I don’t know where I was or why I wasn’t in fist-pumping attendance, but I wasn’t. And for that, I’m a loser.

Thankfully, the band has seen fit to record a demo and put it on the internet so that total knobs like me can still rock out to their totally sweet and very Latterman-esque tunes. You can download the whole thing for free here. It’s amazing. It’s like One Man Army covering Latterman songs. Or like a great ‘77 punk rock band growing sweet beards and playing power pop songs. If you like being in love and driving cars and hanging out with friends and rock and roll and riding your bike and reading books and drinking coffee and heavily distorted bass you will be into this. It’s great great great and I hope next time I’m in a town where they’re playing I don’t just forget and go watch Dillinger Four instead.

Alright, so in the interest of just really driving home my fury over the gross mismanagement of our country during a time of global crisis: this.

The Globe has reportedly obtained a document which indicates that, in 2000, the federal Conservatives, Canadian Alliance, and Bloc Québécois plotted to form a coalition to defeat Chrétien’s Liberals. So basically, eight years ago, the Tories, Alliance, and Bloc were prepared to do exactly what the Liberals, NDP, and Bloc are looking to do right now.

Before November 27, 2000, when the Liberals were handed a big ol’ majority by Canadians, the opposition parties wanted to prepare for a weakened majority or minority government. In these delightful little preparations, they made major concessions to the Bloc, pledging to alter the Clarity Act so that sovereignty could be obtained through a straight 50 per cent-plus in a referendum (the Act calls for a stronger “clear majority”). Plus, Stockwell Day was going to be Prime Minister.

So eight years later, a new rag-tag team of total dicks are trying to alter the democratic will of Canadians by getting in to bed with a political party that literally hopes to dismantle Canada. Except now Harper and the Tories are tossing out tasty bon mots like:

We will have [in a coalition] a mechanism of permanent consultation empowering the Bloc Québécois on every question of importance, notably concerning the adoption of the budget. This Prime Minister, this government, this party has never and will never sign a document like that.

You all suck. Let’s all move to America.

HE LOST. REMEMBER? BY MILLIONS AND MILLIONS OF VOTES.

Seriously, this is way, way bogus.

We could only find this video with the sound effects included, so we can only imagine that it was ambient sound.

Clearly hoping to prove to the world that crazy never really goes out style and zany fascists will always prey on society’s most downtrodden citizens, some dicks in Italy are offering a bunch of euros to poor families willing to name their newborn babies after Benito Mussolini and his lovely fascist wife, Rachele.

Said dicks are the MSI-Fiamma Tricolore party, the modern descendants of Mussolini’s fascist party. And the sweet pot of 1500 euros (nearly two grand USD) is available to any family living in five villages in the country’s poorest region, and includes a bonus of baby clothes and food. Why anyone would not want to name their child after one of the most universally loathed politicians in history escapes us, especially when party officials keep offering such good-natured bon mots as, “Benito and Rachele are nice names and I hope our original initiative will get people going.”

Apparently the names are “under threat”. The MSI-Fiamma Tricolore has yet to comment on whether or not this has to do with the fact that fascism is stupid and the image of Mussolini’s body hanging on a meat hook remains one of the most striking images to emerge from it’s fall in Europe. Or, you know, maybe it’s like some kind of European version of how no Americans have named their kids “Bartholomeus” or whatever for years and it’s just ’cause it’s not cool or something. Who knows, really.

Straight up, JUICEBOXdotcom doesn’t know exactly what it thinks of this. In a nutshell, the Liberals, NDP, and Bloc are in talks to form a coalition government which would topple our existing minority Tory government. What? SOMETHING EXCITING, VAGUELY CONTROVERSIAL AND UNDOUBTEDLY INTERESTING TO A LARGE PORTION OF THE POPULATION INVOLVING CANADIAN POLITICIANS? It’s like some kind of wonderful dream. I can’t wait for our “Ignatieff” tag cloud to explode like so much Sarah Palin porno news. I feel so relevant!

Essentially, the opposition parties think the Tory’s economic package is stupid (it is). The idea of toppling a minority government with a coalition that represents the interests and votes of a larger percentage of Canadians sounds vaguely okay. Except there are a lot of people (this guy included) who voted for one of those parties and wouldn’t dream (except in horrifying night terrors) of voting for the others. There’s the politically dangerous move of getting into bed with a seperatist party (even if their social, environmental, and economic policies are basically the same as the NDP). And the question of who would act as Prime Minister. Jack Layton has already nixed working with Dion as PM, which leaves, what, Ignatieff or Bob Rae? I didn’t vote for those guys. And I wouldn’t. One of them was so in favour of the war in Iraq I think he wanted to marry it and the other one ran Ontario into the ground in the ’90s.

Don’t get us wrong. We really, really hate the Conservatives. They suck. Harper sucks, his ads suck, his sweaters suck, his family is probably full of assholes. But (and this pains the shit of me to say), he got elected. Canada is not Toronto. And a centre-left coalition government with the balance of power held by the Liberals is basically a Liberal government. And they only got 26% of the vote. I would love to live in a country where the majority of citizens supported a gloriously socialist, mega-left, hippie government. Seriously. It’s my dream. But right now Canada’s not that country.

Also, I think all politicians are liars. And fuck the police. [Ed.'s note: YEAH FUCK'EM!1]

If you love tags (the little words that get added to the bottom of blog posts to facilitate searching through the site) as much as I do, you spend a lot of time checking out the tag cloud in our sidebar. For a while, “punk” was the biggest one in there, indicating that I write way too much about the same thing all the time. Well, no more. Our good friend Alejandro Alcoba has been on some kind of magic streak of writing stuff and getting cool interviews with people who make these things I don’t really care about called “comics”. And now “comics” is bigger than “obama”, “porn”, and even “wrestling” in that little tag cloud. This has spurred me to start the weekly music column-thing I’ve been talking about trying to do for months, and given it both a purpose and a name. Thanks, Alejandro. You and your picture books are going down.

So: This is Sam’s weekly column where he writes about a band he likes and tries to make the punk tag bigger in the sidebar tag cloud. Noble pursuits, dude.

Orphan Choir are this awesome band from Windsor, Ontario who sound like Small Brown Bike but way more like they’re from Windsor. They just posted three new songs on their MySpace which you should probably listen to if you like No Idea Records, American Steel, or rock music. “New Rituals” sounds like that kick-ass first track from the Hold Steady’s Boys and Girls in America before it turns into a Jawbreaker song, and “Pictures of Saints” is as powerful as anything on the last (awesome) Constantines record. These guys play on December 13 at Rancho Relaxo in Toronto with Horses, and the day before in Waterloo (but do any of you seriously live in Waterloo?), so you should go see them. Horses rule, too. Good night! Good column!

So there’s this Norwegian escort dude, right? And Boy George is all, “Hey buddy, come to my house in London and we’ll take some adult photographs.” So the Norwegian guy is like, “Yeah, for sure.” So he goes over and they have an alright time, I guess. The guy goes home. And then Boy George is all, “Bro, come by again, I’ve got some Bugles or whatever,” and the escort dude’s all, “For sure, see you in 10.” So they indulge in some adult drugs, adult consentual activities and photography, and then Boy George is all, “Dude, did you hack into my home computer?” And the exscort dude is like, “What?” So then Boy George (obviously) wrestles him to the ground with the help of some other Boy Geroge lackey and ties him to a hook in his bedroom and whips him repeatedly with a metal chain until the escort pulls the hook out the wall and runs out of the house. Not cool, dudes.

IT’S STREAMING RIGHT NOW! QUICK BEFORE THE JOKE’S NOT FUNNY ANYMORE!!!!!!!!!

As reported yesterday over at my day job, that once-awesome band the Smashing Pumpkins were in night two of sucking hard in New York City when dark overlord Billy Corgan invited a heckler from the first night on to the stage. Dark hilariousness ensues.

Nice one, Billy. You bad ass. “Take Your Dick Out Of My Ass and Stick It In My Mouth”? You wrote a book of poetry called Blinking with Fists. Shut up. Forever.

This shit is crazy.

Last weekend I went to the Fest. Now I’m going home. Slowly. The time spent in a van with six other dudes has given me plenty of time to think about my life and the sad, directionless way I live it. Jokes. Everything rules. I wrote about this simple truth twice this week. And in the interest of spreading more of my never ending joy with people who read stuff on the internet, I present my complete minimal-sentence reviews of every single band I saw at the Fest this weekend. All 47 of them. Because I don’t have more important things to do and get stoked about.

But since I know not everyone is way into my opinion of Teenage Cool Kids (you should be, because my opinion is that they’re great), you can check ‘em out after the jump. You should. I spent all afternoon in a van writing this (and making this video). If not, cool. There’s other great stuff on this site to read. Haters. More… »

What’s Worst Mondays without a dark and villainous foil? That’s the kind of thinking that forced us to create Best Fridays. So for all our weekend warrior brethren: Wooooo, T-G-I-F, right? Herein we hope to bookend your awful week by quizzing our previous Worst Mondays candidate about slightly more encouraging things. Every Friday!

My mom gets bummed every time I talk about this band. Which is too bad, because my mom is otherwise a huge fan of Poison Idea-inspired progressive hardcore.

Damian is so friendly. But look how angry he is in this photo! He’s probably yelling about hating cops. Man, Fucked Up are a great band. Have you bought their new record yet? If you like music, you’ll probably think it’s good.

Best injury
I have an insane scar from a pint glass being crushed in my head.

Best historical figure
Carl Panzram. Scary as all get out.

Best shirt
My Scooby Records “Jesus Should Have Been Aborted” shirt. So offensive that it is actually kinda stupid.

Best thing to do with $20
Buy records and fast food… or a slurpee… or a book. Actually can I borrow some of your $20?

Best party trick
I’m a pretty bad ass yo-yoer.

Best monster
See question #2. Or Candyman.

Best question ever asked of you in an interview. Now answer it:
One time a guy asked me if we were worth our guarantee. Another time we were asked if Feist and Cat Power were the same person.

7:24: Arrive with the Flatliners in Warner Robins, Georgia, a town none of us have ever heard of. The bar they’re playing tonight is called Crickets, and is full of rednecks playing pool. It, unsurprisingly, has no internet and is playing FOX News on the television while country music blares. I am informed by the promoter of the show that this town exists soley to support a U.S. Air Force Base down the street. I am currently sitting outside a closed Liberty Tax Service office stealing internet and watching CNN online while a bunch of dudes in army fatigues stare at me. Tonight is going to be fucking weird.

7:29: HOLOGRAMS.

7:31: SERIOUSLY.

7:36: Things are getting uncomfortable in the parking lot. This town looks a lot like Markham or any vast suburban expanse; wide streets, no sidewalks, an Ole Times Country Buffet, etc. So imagine someone pecking away at a keyboard or watching video in front of a closed-up Laser Quest in Richmond Hill. Weird, right? Time to see if Captain Jack’s Crab Shack and Billiards across the street has internet?

8:03: What’s up Captain Jack’s. The billiard part is way hardcore and doesn’t get internet. The family restaurant with children’s play area and arcade? Yup. Also, all-you-can-eat snow crab legs. But that shit’s $18.95, so fuck that. I’m drinking Budweiser and getting a grilled cheese sandwich. Cool.

8:23: Sandwich is good.

8:25: It’s really easy to forget what this means to people when it’s reduced to me blogging about my grilled cheese and jokes about countries you can see from your house. But fuck. This feels important, right?

8:37: Fuck you too, Liddy Dole. Awesome.

8:38: CNN is only streaming CNN.com TV, which is clearly way lame. Now watching MSNBC and Olbermann’s huge head.

8:42: My very sweet waitress, who clearly thinks I’m a little bit of a weirdo for being the only dude in Captain Jack’s crab shack on a Mackbook, informs me that this is a town whose inhabitants, which the exception of those that work at the Crab Shack or the Ole Times Country Buffet, work for the military. If Obama wins, will fake great disappoint and curse all rap music.

8:45: Warner Robins loves them some snow crab.

8:49: Some kid just asked if I was in a band. Junior Battles has one 17 year-old Casualties fan in Georgia.

8:56: Tom DeLay on MSNBC: “I don’t hate, I don’t hate.”

8:57: My current home state of Georgia called for McCain. If the bearded dude in the camo shirt asks, I’m stoked.

9:02: Arizona is too close to call. This calls for a Bud Lite.

9:04: And now we have to wait until at least 11 to see what happens. I’ll see you in the NASCAR racing simulator across the bar. Seriously, I’m going to go get my race on.

9:10: Virgina and the Bradley effect.

9:30: Ohio motherfuckers.

9:31: Looks like I have to leave the Crab Shack soon and head to the billiards room. I’m scared.

9:32: Overhead this morning at a house in Tallahassee: “Fuck Obama, man. People are all like, ‘Did you vote for Obama?’ Fuck that. I voted for Bob Barr. The one you’ve never heard of.”

9:35: I wonder how the Flats show is going? This long hair named Ricky who’s jamming along with the band (and plays in a great band called the Ceremonial Snips) is worried that he’s going to get his ass kicked for his lady hair and his Canadian tuxedo.

9:43: Did I mention how good the fries are at Captain Jack’s?

9:49: Did I mention I wish I was home to party with Spacing?

9:55: Okay, so with a big ol’ dose of knocking on wood, it looks like Obama could very well win tonight. With this comes a very serious concern of mine: how will I know it’s the future in movies anymore if the States actually has a black president?

9:59: JUICEBOXdotcom’s Ashley Carter reports via text message that the party at Toronto’s Bloor Cinema is “fucking awesome.”

10:05: America, we love you. You’re crazy sometimes, but godamn, we love you.

10:15: Captain Jack’s needs me to leave. Going to check in the Flats show down the big sidewalk-free street and head into the billiards room and see what I can swing re: internets.

10:47: Visited the Flats show. According to Chris, the show is “boring as fuck.”

10:50: I am alone in the billiard room.

10:51: FYI, it’s my mom’s birthday, and she’s a lovely lady. Happy birthday, Mom!

10:59: Here it comes.

11:00: Thanks for the grilled cheese, Warner Robins. America rules, the world is thankful, we just saw history get made, happy birthday to my wonderful mother, I’m out.

With the impending salvation or utter ruin of the American Empire upon us, some friends of ours made an online series exploring the evolution of the American electoral process. And farting.

Next two episodes after the jump. More… »

It’s starting. See you in the morning.