The time has come where a variety of artists decide to put out an album consisting of their renditions of such Christmas classics as "O Holy Night", "Silent Night", and "Jingle Bells". And by now, the very beginning of December, most of you are understandably sick of it.

In fact, I can quote someone as saying "I hate Christmas music".

For better or for worse, Christmas albums will really only be played in and around Christmas time (thanks Captain Obvious), and that does not offer enough pressure to deliver quality, innovative music. And if Heidi Klum, or Clay Aiken, can release a Christmas album, then why shouldn't everyone else? Even I think I can record random noises and make a better Christmas album than Heidi Klum, or Clay Aiken, could ever release.

With that all being said, because I opened up this CD that does not belong to me and popped it in my computer, I promised I would review it. Luckily, snow is scheduled to glaze Toronto tomorrow, so hopefully this offering from Sarah McLaughlin Mclock, AHEM, McLachlan, will ring in the season festively. Although I wonder if the owner of the album will be offended if I smash this to pieces with my fierce words. This won't be the first time I risk a friendship over music.



Hey Sarah? If this really is a Christmas album, and especially with the album titled "Wintersong", instead of prancing around in whatever that skimpy outfit you got on there, you think you could maybe throw on a parka and get some snow machine action happening? I mean, unless you were going for an oxymoronic album cover. And, some skiers in the background would be a nice touch.

Oh, and if you could change your last name to something easier to spell?

Track One - Happy Xmas (War is Over)
Unless you're going to say "Xmas" in your song, I'd consider substituting "Christmas" for "Xmas" in the title. And isn't it "MERRY Christmas"?

I'm already confused. And I STILL can't spell her last name. Otherwise, this track is kinda ho-hum for me. Of course, she has the children's choir in the background, which is actually a nice touch. Remember for children's Sunday school, you'd always have to sing in front of all the parents for the annual Christmas show? Yeah, good times.

Track Two - What Child Is This
Much darker than the first song, but really, that's how the song should be done. I wonder when Sarah gets to exercise her vocal chords, because she sounds like she's just whispering this song.

Track Three - River
"I wish I had a river so I could skate away". According to your album cover, your river wouldn't be frozen and could quite possibly drown you.

Near the end of the song, there's a little piano riff that resembles "Jingle Bells" in a minor key. That's the only thing notable about this movement here.

Track Four - Wintersong
Title track, better hit this one hard Sarah! C'mon!

Mellow, quiet, almost jazzy but not quite there, I guess this is the theme of the entire album.

Track Five - I'll Be Home For Christmas
I've always liked this song, so it'd be very hard for her to ruin this for me. And she just made a very fantastic entry into this song. See, I've adjusted my standards to realize that she is of the softer (no going up high and sustaining powerfully) singing ilk, and plus I'm imagining what a Clay Aiken Christmas album would sound like, and my perspective switches quickly.

Track Six - O Little Town of Bethlehem
This song on the other hand, I don't particularly like unless I'm singing it myself. Er, there seems to be a banjo, or a banjo-sounding guitar. Something Sufjan Stevens would try I'd imagine.

Track Not On This Album - Ice Cream
Sorry, I think every album should be required to contain a track talking about food, preferably pancakes, but Ice Cream is not a bad replacement.

Isn't this track the one of the most inspired pieces of work ever? First of all, there aren't many things better than chocolate, but better than both chocolate and ice cream? This "love" thing sure is something I'd like to experience one day (I KID).

So she really can go up higher and she really does have those power female vocal chords which I love oh so much. She reaches for them at the end of this track. Please please PLEASE have some of that on this rest of the Christmas album. Back to that we go.

Track I Lost Count, Oh, Seven - The First Noel/Mary Mary
A medley? Of Christmas songs? Exciting times.

This one sounds Far Eastern, rather mystical. Some drums have now kicked in that, leading me to conjure up pictures of Disney's Lion King rather than a frosty Winter Wonderland. But it's so much of a different sound that it really provides some contrast for the rest of the album.

Simba just totally owned Scar in my imagination.

Track Eight - Silent Night
Back to the "relaxation music".

That's IT! I can totally hear this album being played as in a Yoga class, or while I attempt to sit in a Zen Lotus position, which I fail miserably at. I'm just not flexible that way. And, no, I cannot bend over and touch my toes.

Track Nine - Song For A Winter's Night
I actually get a really odd sensation down the back of my leg when attempting to touch my toes. It has led me to never try it again.

Track Ten - Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas
Another song that cannot be ruined for me, and while this track doesn't completely blow me out of the water, I can still lean with it, rock with it, stop with it.

And finally, a trumpet gets some time to shine. Should've had more trumpet. And more cowbell.

Track Eleven - In The Bleak Mid-Winter
I feel like it is already the bleak mid-winter-that-is-not-here-yet. Because in a few weeks, I'll be down south (not deep durrty South) in Michigan. And everything leading up to that feels bleak (just like Memphis' career prospects LOL).

Track Twelve - Christmas Time Is Here
Featuring Diana Krall? Intriguing. I remember when I first peeped the Charlie Brown Christmas version of this song and was immediately brought back to my childhood and I think I've liked this lounge-y, thought-provoking, imagery-plentiful song.

Classy way to end an album. Would've been better if Christmas time were actually here, but that's me picking at insignificant things.

Additional Thoughts
Just another seasonal offering. If you're a fan of Sarah McLachlan, you'll like it. If not, then it'll blend in with most other stuff on the radio/malls/elevators these days.

She needs to change her last name.

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I don't intend to fully review another album tonight. As a matter of fact, my mind is currently occupied with the migration issues that have sprung up as I attempt to shuffle blog templates, all in the name of making your reading experience more enjoyable.

With that said, I've taken flak in the past for having too lengthy a post, or for being to superfluous. If anything, I am superbulous (super + fabulous), but in the open forum that is the Internets, people will have their say about everything. And because I dish out my fair of criticisms, I better be able to take it. And the solution that should satisfy everybody is...

...amazing.

So if you choose to read lengthy posts, that option is still available. And if you choose to skip over posts I have deemed lengthy so it will include the "Read More" button, then go ahead. The fact that you were even on my page increases the hit counter, I don't actually need everybody to read everything I write!

So back to the task at hand. I will now play Gwen in the background while proceeding with coding issues. It'll be interesting to see how this turns out.

Track One - Wind It Up
The Sound of Music inspired single. Basically it's ridiculous.

Track Two - The Sweet Escape
Speaking of the Sound of Music, I always get that movie mixed up with Mary Poppins. Isn't that weird? I mean, one movie's about, well, falling in love, and the other is about chim chimery's and a spoon so full of sugar that it's making my mouth water.

This track sounds like something S-Club 7 released a long time ago. And according to the title, Akon is supposedly featured, but it's the end of the track and I haven't heard him at all. It's for the better.

Track Three - Orange County Girl
Because you know, Akon is just another one of the mass produced R&B singers that so happens to be "hot" right now (no brokeback). I just haven't found the factory where they churn these guys out quite yet.

Give me break, I haven't even found Waldo yet, and Carmen Sandiego keeps country hopping.

Track Four - Early Winter
No Gwen, in fact, it's verging on December and I haven't seen much snow yet. I will not acknowledge the winter season until snow hits me square between the eyes.

Track Five - Now That You Got It
Why does my text spacing change after I link to an image/video? What the heck blogger? I'll work-around it by using the blogger insert image function.

Track Six - 4 In The Morning
Didn't Our Lady Peace do a song titled "4AM"? I hope I'm not making this up. And I know Matchbox 20 did that "3AM" song. Is this going to be a fad? Are we going to have tracks titled "2:46", and eerily spans 2 minutes and 46 seconds?

Track Seven - Yummy
I hope she talks about pancakes. Oh please, talk about pancakes! Oh, she's talking about herself and how she's delicious. Disappointment.

The Neptunes must be behind this because it sounds like track numero one-oh. Yup, there's Pharrell with his "superb" flow. Haha, she even says "wind it up"! You know what this is?

SYNERGY.

Four minutes into this track, it gets creepy, and the instrumental section comprises of sounds that I can only describe as factory-ish. I'm making headway into this R&B singer manufacturer investigation can't you see?

Track Eight - Fluorescent
Of course, there had to be a scheduled blogger outtage just as I was making some progress. I guess my changes will have to wait another day, along with this post, which I will now continue writing in Notepad, and post it tomorrow morning as if the outtage never occured. What to do now, what to do.

Hello, fantasy sports.

Track Nine - Breakin' Up
This song can either be about being dumped, or, bad cell phone reception.

Remeber that BackStreetBoys track? "MY BATTERY IS LOW! GOTTA GO!" Good times.

What do you know! She said "batteries getting low"!

This song is so good with the double entendres. This has the looks of an instant classic.

Track Ten - Don't Get It Twisted
How did the New York Knicks beat the Cleveland Cavaliers Lebron James? Oh, I hope David Lee lit it up...10-5-stl-blk, not bad not bad. Isn't David Lee such an odd name for a Caucasian? Maybe it's just me, possibly because I've known one or two David Lee's in my lifetime (HOV!)

Track Eleven - U Started It
Gwen, "U" is spelled "WHY-OH-YOU". Oh, I should probably mention that the last track had this for a hook, "This is the most craziest sh*t ever".

Just curious Gwen, Would you classify that sh*t as...

...bananas?

Track Twelve - Wonderful Life
Find it weird that I'm talking about sports in the context of this post? Rhetorical question really, because I'm about to continue.

I hope Vince Carter comes back to the Toronto Raptors. Then I can go to games and boo my face out, even if he leads the Raps back into the playoffs. I remember doing that for Tracy McGrady, although he was on the Magic, so I don't know how weird it'd be to boo a player on the team you're cheering for night in, night out. I'm still undecided.

Track Bonus - Candyland
Who can take a sunrise, sprinkle it with dew? Cover it in chocolate and a miracle or two...
The candyman, the candyman can!

I don't know what this song is about, nor do I know if it will actually be included with this album.

Oh wait, she does say "this sh*t is f***ing bananas". Bringing it all back together into one neat little package. Well done.

Additional Thoughts: Very enjoyable album, time seemed to fly as I listened to this very cohesive album that is dance-enducing and very upbeat all the way through, even in the darker movements.

Gwen is probably the only individual that not only gets away with this stuff, but makes it sound good. I would say that Ms.Stefani is the leader in her field (female pop vocalists), with the most recent rip-offs including Fergie-Ferg and Nelly Furtado. She ascends to a whole other level with this offering, which, sadly, she has mentioned will be her last solo album.

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I know it seemed unusual that I would subject myself to such a wretched choice of music yesterday night, but I did it knowing that tonight, my ears would be healed, and my soul would waltz with the melodies and harmonics of the fantastic Chantal Kreviazuk.

Raine Maida, the lead singer for Our Lady Peace back in the day, opened up his wife's concert, and while his lyrics show his deeper and dark side, with politics and social injustice as themes, replacing, uhm, whatever it was OLP sang about, his voice was as captivating as I remembered it to be.

Going into the night, I actually didn't realize how many hit songs Chantal had, until she slowly started churning them out, and I strangely knew a ton of the lyrics. Sadly, a sing-along never broke out amongst the Markham Theater audience, but that didn't stop her from bringing down the house with her sometimes grandiose (almost operatic), mostly catchy, and always intimate style.

Early on in the show, she requested some people move up to fill up some empty seats in the second row, which of course thrilled the heck out of the lucky few that upgraded their seats. A little later on, everything felt as it should when she politely asked the audience to get up on their feet, as I'm a little used to being asked to stand for worship services.

I actually didn't get any pictures, so I'm going to leave that one up there and pretend I did. It's my memories and no one has to know. Even if her hair is now a rich dark brown.

And I still can't get over how ridiculously talented the rest of the musicians on stage were. The cellist and the violinist doubled QUADRUPLED as guitar players, flute players, and backup vocalists. And of course, Raine came back out to play the bass a little bit because he probably got bored backstage.

I have a feeling that I'll be singing under my breath tomorrow. And that I'll soon own all of Chantal Kreviazuk's albums. And that it won't hold a candle to the show she put on tonight. Live music will forever sound better than recordings.

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"...if you download the K-Fed and fess up to it...I don't think I can admit to being your friend anymore..." - K.C.

It's been done. I'm staring at the track listing on my iTunes as we speak, and I'm about to attempt something that may not only jeopardize my friendships, this realistically threatens my sanity.

I, Buttug McOysty, pledge to sit here and listen to this Kevin Federline, ahem, Fed-Ex, album in its entirety, tracks one through thirteen plus bonus material tacked on at the end, and make snide remarks about it, track by supposedly horrible track.

The over/under on when I start bashing my head into the table repeatedly is 7. And I'm being generous.

Before we start, I'd just like to take the time to notice that he actually cleaned up pretty nicely for the album cover. Is this a sign of things to come? Will he actually this off?


Track One - Intro
The Feder-liner: "According to sources, Federline's marriage to pop superstar Britney Spears has reached its last straw".
Did K-Fed just predict the future? Oh, I get it, he's come back from the future to tell the story as a grandpa. Buy the premise, buy the bit. I don't buy the premise.

Track Two - The World is Mine
The Feder-liner: "The world is mind, and everything in it, Young Jeezy told me that so I'ma go get it".
So theoretically, if the rest of this album manages to make me stupider, Young Jeezy should be the one held responsible. If it comes down to that, I'm counting on you, the readership, to avenge me.

Track Three - America's Most Hated
The Feder-liner: "You're mad that I made it, America's most hated".
On the contrary. You give hope to people with no talent and no money! You're a role model!

Track Four - Snap
This is the first song without a noticeable amount of piano. Hold on...

...this sounds a lot like a "Drop it like its hot". In fact, I'm gonna go ahead and superimpose Snoop's lyrics over this beat in my head and, look at that, I LIKE THIS SONG!

The Feder-liner: "A pancake man, f*** a hand shake man". What's a pancake man? And just now, he has proclaimed himself, "Hotter than a pizza oven".

I'm hungry. K-Fed is exploiting that fact in his lyrics.

Track Five - Lose Control
Oh, the piano is back. And so are his pedestrian lyrical abilities (not to be mistaken for my pedestrian writing skills thank you very much)
You know how sometimes singles are so good that when you buy the album you skip directly to the single in order to get yourself off to a good start?
Didn't happen. In fact, I'd like to plead the "heard it already" clause and go ahead and skip this track altogether.

Track Six - Dance with a Pimp
The Feder-liner: "It goes left, right, front to back."
That's it? I can dance like that...am I a pimp? I used to think that any track that described it's own dance routine within the confines of the song (re: One-Two Step, Lean Back, Chicken Noodle Soup) would automatically catch fire. This song is setting out to prove me wrong.
The Feder-liner, because I figure I owed you one from skipping the last track: "Dudes hate K-Fed, girls love K-Fed, it don't matter to me cuz K-Fed stay fed".
MIND BOGGLING.

Track Seven - Priviledge
Generic R&B hook sung by an unknown artist named Bosko. Things, are starting to sound the same.
Another song I have had the, uh, "priviledge" of hearing before, thanks to me being too lazy to flip channels during a performance at MuchMusic.
The Feder-liner: "I'm not a father, I'm just a Mac, got tired of the drugs so I switched to rap".
Last time I checked, he was a father of THREE (I'm a little unclear if it's two or three, but the point still stands).

Track Eight - Crazy
I am slowly going... at least it's one track later than I anticipated.
OH. WOULDN'T YOU LOOK AT THIS. The obligatory Britney collaboration. I guess he owed her one since she probably paid for this album.
Sorry, not paying too much attention, I am trying to decide who I have a harder time listening to, Brit-Brit, or K-Fed. I'm going to call it a tie.
The Feder-liner: "Don't think they understand, how much cake the pancake man have". And I think he shouted out Tupac...

Track Nine - A League of My Own
Sounds like something G-Unit would do. I bet 50 could've made this song and made millions. A screw it, I'm going to take a washroom break.

Track Ten - Playing with Fire
The novelty of being forced to listen through an album for a track-by-track review is wearing off.
The Feder-liner: The entire hook is "Playing with fire, playing with fire", repeated 8 times. Listen, K-Fed, I GET that it is the album title, no need to pound it into me anymore. Lay. Off.
And he just said something about pancakes again, pancake reference count at 3? (excluding the last track that I "accidentally" missed)...

Track Eleven - Caught Up (Intro)
You know when you just finished up one boring lecture and you have that 5-10 minute span to get to your next boring lecture. So you pick up your backpack, make your way to the exit, and the fresh air and sounds of nature/other people/cars give you a chance to clear your mind? Yeah...that's where we are in the album.

Track Twelve - Caught Up
I won't lie, I'm starting to ignore the lyrics, and concentrating instead on the seconds ticking by until the merciful end of this album.

Track Thirteen - Kept On Talkin
Ending on a track numbered thirteen, some would call that bad luck.
The Feder-lines - "Pancakin' is my job, in the mix all the time". LOL.
"PANCAKE PANCAKE, I'M THAT MAN". ROFL (That's the HOOK).
"My name is Kevin Federline, pancakin' all the time." (LMAOWTF)

Bonus Track - Middle Finger
He actually thought that people would wait out the 3 plus minutes of silence to get to the bonus material? Never mind the notion of bonus tracks being so preposterous (seriously, why isn't it just...in this case, track fourteen? What makes this a bonus? Is it only released on 30% of the albums created?).
The Feder-liner: "Like Jesus in every way, I'm crucified and slayed, watch me die and I rise on the seventh day."
Hey, Kev? Jesus rose on the third day.

Additional Thoughts: He raps about money, how girls love him, how the media hates him. ON EVERY SONG.

And, I take it he has an odd attraction for pancakes because I don't know of any popular pancake sayings, nor can I imagine a pancake being a metaphor for anything.

To be completely honest, I don't think this is the most atrocious thing I have ever heard, and some songs will get replayed on my iPod, because I think K-Fed is hilarious. As mentioned, I could definitely see other rappers spittin' over some of these beats, as some of them sound suspiciously close to being rip-offs. Of course he has an affinity for piano laced beats.

Lastly, I would suggest he look into advertising full time for pancakes instead of making music.

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You don't have to look very far to find conflict in this world. From the very real conflicts such as the debacle in Iraq, to the petty conflicts where friends intelligently debate who between them should rightfully claim ownership of the louder speaking voice, to the fictional biting-social-commentary conflicts supposedly portrayed in cutting-edge television shows and movies, to the trivial conflicts when one is deciding whether or not to hit the snooze button for the fifth time that morning. Conflict is one crop us humans will never run out of until His Kingdom Comes (no Hov).

Well wouldn't you look at that. This post is sounding promising. And there's much bigger in the issues in the world, I know...

...but I first have to take care of the world I know.

Similar to Star Wars, in music, there is a dark side, and there is a good side. Subjectively speaking of course, but that is implied, given that firstly, this is the Internets, and secondly, if I refer to myself as the most highly aawesome Buttug McOysty, it can be inferred that I am openly opinionated. Of course, I also willingly flip sides, and do so very frequently. Luckily for me, this won't be much of a problem for the next few posts because there happens to be another force, neither good or bad, neither jedi or dark, neither gravitational or centrifugal, that is governing the recent musical offerings by your favorite artists (favorite artists to hate included)...

...the force of central tendency.

For those less mathematically, statistically, scientifically and computationally inclined, that was just an abnormal way of "average".

And over the next little while, I hope to delve into samplings of the current music industry. After all, I started this blog business posting lyrics, and any of my posts of substantial length will no doubt include some musical reference(s) that few will catch (my very own blog easter eggs), so this is going back to the basics (no Genie in a Bottle) for me.

Stay tuned, pun (haha), for more.

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...and why is he reading my hard drive?

Sometimes, I get the premonition that I am in the wrong industry.

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*The poetic inspiration: Twas the Night Before Christmas*

Twas the night before American Thanksgiving, and I was watching House,
I missed it Tuesday night, like the blind cat missed the mouse.
There's nothing as calming as watching someone administer quality health care,
And for a split second, I would've much rather been there.

To see the patients all tucked into their beds,
Then out of nowhere, a song got stuck in my head.
I tried to settle down, took a swig of water and replaced the cap,
When that wouldn't work, I attempted to take a short nap.

But no, the incessant music was growing to a loud clatter,
Mother asked, "Is everything alright?", I replied, "Nothing's the matter".
And just like that it was gone like a flash,
All that was left was the memory, that, and my sash.

Here's where I give up trying to match the last word of each line,
Because I'm about to go on a major tangent, go into the undefined.
A couple weeks ago I forgot to write an "I'm Thankful For" post,
Luckily I've been given this second chance to go back, like Christmas Past, the ghost.

First and foremost, Pantene Pro V for making my hair glow,
Not to boast, but it's as smooth as a baby's below.
In an age where life moves so fast, I make time to move slow,
To the joys and the strife that are passed, I grind and I grow.

Delightful company is as hard to find as a misplaced wallet,
Grateful for my crew, my peoples, my hood, whatever you call it.
The company in the other sense puts money in the bank,
Allowing me to eat well, prime rib steak to the flank.

The novelty of writing in verse is slowly fading like the ozone,
I'm thankful for everything, the big down to the small toys I own.
Thankful for my cheap A-B rhyme schemes, patented and perfected,
Thankful for the path that lies ahead that has been previously selected.

And with that I'm gone, but not for long,
Back by tomorrow, minus the cute song.
This post may have been a lost one,
But sorry, I'm a champion.

*A couple minutes later, I decide this video is appropriate, besides the first part which most won't understand*

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I sat down to write this post and right away I was faced with a dilemma. The way I figured, there were two ways I could've gone about developing this entry. And just like that, two little characters appeared, one on each of my shoulders.

The first possibility, as explained by the character that resembled the recently ousted Donald Rumsfield, would've had me penning today's happenings, much like a narrator, except the narrative would have been in past tense, and I'm no good with tenses. I would've been filling everyone in on the events of my mundane life. If you think about it, it's like living through a boring day twice, and similar to how victim's of horrible atrocities are unable to talk about it because it replays the events/emotions all too realistically for them to be able to take it, I wasn't too keen on this idea. Even minus the horrible atrocities.

The only reason I would've subjected myself to this torture would have been to create a carefully constructed story that cleverly included every phrase found in this list that shows how the blogosphere has abused the gaming console's name. All 35 of them. The post would've taken on an ironic feel.

The second possibility, as explained by Homer Simpson (no O.J.), would've had me writing up a medium sized post that didn't really go anywhere, with the only objective being one crazy punchline at the end that would've left the reader feeling not only slightly shocked, but also gipped of an actual post.

The three of us looked at each other in disbelief. It was so simple, yet so genius, that Wii concurred on option two.

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I received an email titled "Want to be a hero in bed?". I deleted it right away, not because it was obviously spam (it was filtered directly into the spam folder), but because I'm already a hero, one that can be only classified as super. And it's not like my powers fade away when I go to sleep at night, or while I'm reading books on my bed with my sheets tucked securely around me in cocoon formation.

My Spidey senses are indicating that my interpretation of the email may not have been what the email was actually trying to convey.

I offer proof of me using my powers for good: O.J.'s book is CANCELLED. You know, that book I was complaining about? Well it seems enough people (me) created an uproar so great, we couldn't be ignored.

For the still unconvinced, I will now illustrate with a story, in order to help you quantify exactly how ridiculously aawesome me and my super powers are. The story is true. No names have been changed because no names have been utilized.

I woke up at 6am this morning because I felt compelled to open my blinds. I awoke again at 9am, with sunlight pouring down on my face as if someone was pointing a flashlight directly at me, and couldn't for the life of me remember why in the world I dragged myself out of bed in the middle of a wonderful sleep session to screw myself over so badly in the morning.

Then I realized, some things, like my super powers, are not meant to be explained, just taken, not stirred.

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*Kevin pouring salad dressing into a paper shredder waste box, containing lettuce shred by said nondescript paper shredder*
"Where'd you get the LETTUCE Kevin?"
"Uh, Staples."

AND THEN THEY CUT TO A COMMERCIAL FOR THE NONDESCRIPT PAPER SHREDDER BROUGHT TO YOU BY STAPLES.

Somebody get me a salad.

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Either way, Santa's coming to already in town. Gather round childrens, let me tell you the pagan Christmas story.

Bear with me, as this is a purely imaginative tradition, facts may have been lost in translation (similar to the movie, but I haven't seen the movie before so I can't quantitatively how similar) as it was passed down to me through the generations. By myself. To myself. If things seem a little out of place, just remember, as with all crazy stories, there probably is a moral that nobody remembers at the end.

That was a desperate plea for you to read to the end. Proceeding away now.

At the dawn of time, Santa was given an augmented calendar from monkeys (I think that's what people that don't believe in God believe in), the first Christmas present ever. Every year, the magical calendar would use a complex mathematical algorithm to generate an arbitrary number between two and five. That number would correspond to the number of days removed from the middle of the calendrical year. Think of it like a gigantic sandwich, where you slowly pick off whatever is in the middle, slowly shrinking the sandwich while leaving the outsides intact.

This was all done unbeknowst to Santa, and as December rolled around yearly, Santa starts making appearances in children's dream's and putting up posters of himself everywhere to generate excitement, unaware that his campaign to promote himself was coming earlier and earlier.

I think I better skip to the meaning of the story.

Kids, before you go writing your cute letters to Santa asking for the ponies, the toy trucks, (what is it that kids play with these days, oh yeah) the Tickle-Me-Elmo's, and the super power that you've been wanting all year, just remember, SANTA'S A FIGMENT OF YOUR WEAK IMAGINATIONS, relative to the glorious imagination that's been on full display in this post by yours truly, Buttug McOysty.

Sidebar for a moment, shouldn't every comedian have a Tickle-Me-Elmo at every performance? You know, for when one of their jokes bomb? They reach over and set this baby off, instantly making people forget about the bad joke by masking it with fake, yet highly contagious, laughter? Am I right or am I genius?

So, uh, good story no? And my segues are even more impressive. I'm watching Futurama while typing this so pardon me if it's lacking punch. If you wanted a more compelling story, try watching TBS on the weekends because they showed HOME ALONE at least three times this past weekend. The movie series that is reserved for the Christmas weekend, and only the Christmas weekend.

Normally, I ignore the Christmas decorations in the malls, because I understand their need to promote a holiday in order to milk us of our hard-earned money. But television would NEVER do this to me. Television would still be celebrating Remembrance Day if you're up north, or Thanksgiving if you're down south. To show a Christmas movie upstages and insults veterans and turkeys all around. And that's one demographic you don't want to piss off, the veteran/turkey's.

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To Whom It May Concern.

I have been a Blogger user since '03, and never once considered switching over to another free blog host, all of which I consider inferior to the service you provide. That theory was only solidified when Google purchased Blogger, because Google seems to have a good track record in investments and seeing the future.

With all that sucking up out of the way, I'd like to inform you that I have not been put on the supposed select list of blogger that are being allowed to switch over their accounts to Blogger in Beta, this new venture co-hosted by Google and Blogger. Considering my phenomenal loyalty, this is rather unsettling. And not to sound demanding or anything, but I better be able to upgrade to this Blogger in Beta thing by the end of this week, or else I will badmouth you on Wikipedia.

I wait expectingly.

Thank you.

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Here's what not to do after being acquitted of a crime. Why didn't he keep his mouth shut, and disappear off the face of the earth? This case was a little before my time, or at least before I decided to get in touch with the world outside of my bubble, so honestly I do not care much for the case other than, you know, people were killed and lives were ruined. Terrible, but not very compelling to me.

Strikingly similar to R Kelly writing songs using explicit lyrics about certain activities, that shall remain nameless because I'm much too lazy to look up actual lyrics today, that he partakes in, while on trial for charges very similar to the lyrics.

This paves the way for plenty more morons to release similarly thought out books. Maybe Bill Clinton will write a book titled, "I did not have sexual relations with Ms.Lewinski, but if I did, here's how it would've went down? Pun intended." And yes, pun intended would be a vital part of the title.

In fact, anytime somebody supposedly does something that is assumed to be true to the general population, but denies it to the death, the offending party should be required to write a book outlining how they WOULD'VE done what is said that they did, had they done it. Go Keyser Soze on everybody, leaving just enough hints so that people realize all too late as you slowly hobble away. Word to Kevin Spacey.

For example, I would probably write something to the effect of, "I am the most efficient worker in the known universe, but if I were to waste the first half hour every morning getting coffee and reading the Internets, here is a list of sites I need to check in order to not obsessively think about them the rest of the day." That's a working title.

There are other trivial things that I think should be mandatory, off the top of my head:

Anytime a football is run in for a touchdown, with the run consisting of 50+ yards, play-by-play people, and all subsequent highlight reel commentators, must incorporate the already beaten to death, made famous by a supposed classic I have never watched entirely through once, "Run Forrest, Run!".

Anytime there is a story about meteor rocks or craters, ESPECIALLY if the location is Kansas, news articles must include some reference to Superman coming to save us from ourselves.

Anytime a food is deemed delicious, somebody needs to deep fry it, because chances are, it'll be extra delicious. Even if the food is actually a liquid.

If you didn't notice, I've had those articles saved up for a while. I have a bad habit of not posting everything I draft, and an even worse habit of posting things a few days too late. Sometimes, I'm just waiting for somebody in the world to screw up so magnificently that all I have to do is log onto my account here and let the post write itself. So there really would be no better way than to end this article by expressing my thanks to that individual who made life easy for me today.

Thank you, OJ. Fool.

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I, Buttug McOysty, do solemly swear to educate, cultivate, enlighten-ate and indoctrinate my readership as I see fit.

The dotted lines are back.

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So learn away folks. But before you do, not that I'd ever want to impede your right to learn by taking up valuable time with this soon-to-be run-on sentence, as tempting as it may be to look for Waldo during the playing of the clip, I can assure you he's not there. I realized this after my third time through it.



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The only thing that would increase the irony of this story is if the unknown metal is iron itself.

Would I be so lazy as to link to an article, then abruptly move on with no discussion of aforelinkedto article?

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Sorry Kanye, but it seems that Harvard has shown that babies are born as Gold-diggers.

Would I be so bold as to not discuss two linked articles in the same post?

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Guns don't kill people. People don't kill people. RUBBER BANDS kill people. And the most amusing fact is that the weapon is sold out. Enough nerds, like me, have found this site and have decided for themselves that their lives would be incomplete without this gun. Although, the sell job is top notch:

"This beauty is a fully funcitonal machine gun with TWELVE rotating barrels and a live action trigger."

Christmas is right around the corner, for any of you making "Things To Get Buttug McOysty For Christmas". I'm looking at you...

...Santa.

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That dotted line was a premature, because I think certain Barbadosians could've used said weapon. Aren't snails the slowest creatures on the face of this earth? How does an entire country get attacked by snails. That's just sad. If ravenous monkeys suddenly sprung up on a village, I would understand, but SNAILS.

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The United States political landscape has taken a sudden swing to the left, to the left (everything you own in a box to the left). Yup. Just in case anyone was hiding under a rock, or was searching my post for a musical reference.

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After ranting about my fantasy hockey teams, it seems that certain members of my fantasy basketball team have come down with the undocumented disease only known as turnover-itis (DWIGHT UGLY HOWARD), said to be caused by brain cramps and lapses in judgment.

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That's all, see you next week, I'll be sure to not mention how my hair embarrassed me in front of the entire English congregation of my church.

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I do not possess an enormous vocabulary of Chinese words. Of the words/phrases I understand, I am only able to verbalize 40% of them, at most. And if you think I abuse the grammatical laws in English, your ears may shatter at my attempt to form coherent sentences in Chinese. And you'd probably squirm while watching me attempt to thank a person in Chinese.

For inexplicable reasons, sometime long ago, someone decided it would be great to have two different ways of saying "Thank You". One for when someone does something for you, and an entirely different one for someone who gives you something. Don't ask me which is which because I've been on this earth 21 years and I still haven't figured it out yet.

To me, it's as confusing as having two distinct answers to the question "2+2=?".

So you can imagine the dread of me finally manning up and walking into my Chinese-run hair salon. Yes, if you're wondering, it was my fear of speaking Chinese that delayed me from going to get a haircut all along. I really wasn't going for the bum/ugly/mullet look, as some have commented.

And of course, being the professional barber this man was, he asked me very politely, in Chinese, how I wanted my hair cut. Of course, I'm sure he was capable of understanding perfect English and I very well could've told them exactly how I wanted it to be done, in English, and saved myself a lot of trouble.

But isn't it awkward, and to an extent, rude, when someone asks you a question in one language and you answer in another? After-all, I'm Chinese, and I need to save face. So instead, I went ahead and mumbled and jumbled my way through a couple of sentences, pausing every few seconds to catch to appreciate the new level of low I have descended to in my quest to be understood in Chinese.

And the best part is, whatever I said must have amounted to "Hello, I'm in the profession of making kids laugh at me, a clown if you will, so I'm gonna need you to go ahead and grab a bowl, put it on my head, and cut around the bowl in order to yield the dorkiest, most horrific, image you've ever seen, and I will pay you seven fat dollars for it".

If you don't see me for a while, I hope you understand. Must I remind you of the aforementioned ancient Chinese philosophy of saving face?

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Taking place at an undisclosed local hockey arena. Coach Isiah Thomas calls upon his team of hockey players, whom also happen to be a collection of Buttug McOysty's fantasy team players.

Coach Thomas: Gather round boys, take a knee.

Daniel Alfredsson: Are we getting sandwiches?

Markus Naslund: Are you ever not hungry?

*Daniel clubs Markus with a baseball bat*

Marian Gaborik: I know I have no right to speak, seeing as how I'm constantly injured. But it's not my fault I got clubbed by a baby. SERIOUSLY NOW. But Daniel, maybe, just maybe, you should trade that baseball bat for a hockey stick, dontcha think?

Jason Spezza: Sorry, what team do you play for again?

Marian Gaborik: The Minnesota Wild.

*everyone loses interest*

Cam Ward: Has anyone seen my MVP trophy? I seem to have misplaced it.

Pavel Datsyuk: You mean you mis-EARNED it? Ha, ha ha.

Alex Tanguay: *inaudible French-accented English*

Martin Gerber: Hey, why don't you speak the heck up Alex.

Patrik Elias: Why don't you work on stopping a beach ball?

Wade Redden: Why don't you practice putting the beach ball into the ocean?

Coach Thomas: Guys! GUYS! Look, I know that I haven't been successful in this league. There is no need to laugh, or should I say s(K)NICKer at that. In fact, everything I touch instantly turns into a boiling pot of crap, an unmitigated disaster.

*Henrik Zetterberg decides to start annoyingly jabbing his stick into Mark Bell's ribs, who is too drunk to care*

Joni Pitkanen: You come near me with that stick and I'll stuff you in a cardboard box with a one way ticket to Siberia.

Coach Thomas: I WASN'T FINISHED.

Henrik Lundqvist: I'm not finished my sandwich either. Gobble gobble.

Erik Cole: Turkey.

Daniel Alfredsson: Turkey sandwiches? WHERE ARE THE SANDWICHES?

Coach Thomas: Here's what we're going to do. We're going to hit 88 miles/hour going north on the 404 which should take us back in time, where I will take a pass on my inclinations that any of you will be productive.

Shawn Horcoff: Coach, are you my father?

Samuel L. Jackson: SNAKES ON A PLANE!!!

Rick Nash: Who let this dog out?

Daniel Alfredsson: I guess we won't be getting sandwiches after-all.

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Happy Tree Friends! You know, these little fellows and all their friends:

What's that? You've never seen an episode and would like me to recommend one? Try, "Helping Helps". I'm warning you though, as cute as they may appear, and as morally sound the title seems, this stuff is not for the weak-stomached and is rather upsetting. Hide your childrens and stuffed animals. You have been thusly warned.

I'll wait while you watch.

*humming* Where the gangsters boogey? The Gangster Boogey!

And I definitely laughed when, well, you know, I realized what had happened to the poor thing's head. Now before you berate me for being a cold-hearted killer, keep in mind, I had no clue going in. Nobody told me to put away my childrens. It was merely a reaction when you really don't know what else to do.

What you can find horrible is the fact that I continued to laugh even after processing the events.

Now watch this incredible segue...

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Today I received my first professional massage. None of that "housemate walks into your room to snoop on your MSN conversations but tries to hide that fact by giving you a fake massage which is just a shoulder squeeze", I'm talking a person that has her own business card.

Ten minutes later, I painfully found out my back muscles are so knotted (how knotted?), well let me tells you, they are so knotted that they deserve a whole section dedicated to the setup and execution a knot joke.

There were three pieces of rope wandering in the desert. They were very hot and thirsty. They came upon a bar and one went in. He asked for a drink and the bartender said, 'read the sign buddy we don't serve ropes.'

'Oh come on just this once', the rope asked again. The bartender said 'nope', so the rope left. The second rope figured he was a bit better looking and maybe the bartender would soften a little and let him have a drink. He went in and asked for a drink, the bartender shook his head and said 'Hey Buddy, it's just like I told your friend we don't serve ropes here.' Dejected the rope left the bar.

The 3rd rope heard both of their stories, thought for a moment. Then he rolled himself into a knot and fluffed the edges so it was a little frayed. The third rope went into the bar like this and asked for a drink.

The bartender asked, 'Hey are you a rope?' The 3rd rope looked down at himself and said 'Nope, I am a frayed knot!'

The dotted line could not have come any sooner.

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My over/under for number of technical fouls 'Sheed Wallace receives this NBA regular season is set at 50.

My over/under for number of times someone will comment "Your hair is so long!" this weekend is set at 20.

My over/under for number of comments this post will receive is set at 3.

Over, under, over, under, over and out.

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