Since the April 20th explosion of the Deepwater Horizon offshore oil rig, massive amounts of oil have been spewing out of the ruptured oil well. Executives are testifying before Congress, and the battle of public opinion is currently being waged. Who should be blamed? Who should you hate? Well, wyvern920 is here with all the answers, as always.

There are three possible companies to blame that are involved with this mess: BP, Halliburton, and Transocean. BP is an oil company, Halliburton is a domestic oil driller (and in no way deals with Iraq or Afghanistan. You're probably thinking of KBR, which was spun off of Halliburton in 2007 – apparently because they had a poor reputation for some reason), and Transocean is the company that leases the oil rigs. BP leased the oil rig from Transocean, and hired Halliburton to perform the drilling procedures. Transocean also assists Halliburton with the day-to-day operations. Schlumberger provides the drills to Halliburton used in the excavation for the oil rig that Transocean leases to BP. The oil that is collected is property of BP, who sells it on the futures market. Confused yet? Good. All you need to know is that it's BP's fault, because I don't really like BP. There are just some companies that I dislike immensely, even though they've never done anything to me, and BP is one of them. Seriously, they can eat a bag of it.

Lost in this discussion is the real impact of the oil spill. No, it doesn't stress the need to switch to green technology, including solar and wind. Who cares that animal habitat is being decimated? I don't really care that the economy of Louisiana is being adversely affected. I'm glad that the white sand beaches of Alabama are being tarnished. No, what's really the tragedy in all this is the loss of all that precious oil. America salutes you, wasted and unburned freedom fuel.

It was six years ago today that Wyvern920's Homepage made its very first post at 12:22 AM. Some other important events on this day: New Coke was released on an unsuspecting public, the Polish Constitution was adopted, and the birth of Roy Orbison. In fact, a lot of famous people were born on this day: Lee Mayors, Joyce DeWitt, Michael Moore, George Lopez, Barry Watson, Kal Penn, and John Oliver. What a glorious day in history.

You might have noticed some work that has been done on this website in the past couple of months. The first thing I did was retooled the 'Archive' section by adding the ability to navigate the calendar by month-to-month and year-to-year. The '<' & '>' will allow you to view month-to-month, while the '<<' & '>>' will allow you to view year-by-year. Pretty sweet, eh? The second and most important piece of work done was the reconfiguration of the comments; now the comments here are completely in-house, and controlled by me, wyvern920. Here is what to do:

Name: This is where your name goes. Duh.
Email: This is where your email goes. Duh. I've done my best to make the emails protected, so you won't be inundated with spam. You can rest assured knowing that this site won't be responsible for those Viagra emails you receive.
URL: This is where your website goes. Duh.
Pic URL: This is where you specify the URL of the avatar you would like to display in the comments. Please make the avatar 60 x 60 pixels. If you are a regular poster to this dear website, email me and I can host your picture and supply you with a short phrase that you can enter in the Pic URL field that will simplify the process.
Comment: This is where you enter your comment praising my website and my awesomeness. Duh.
Verification: Just enter the captcha code. I hate it as much as you do, but life is about doing things that you hate until you die. Deal with it.

That should do it. Notice that my avatar is a drinking bird, because I am spicy like that. The default avatar is the crazyforyou heart, so unless you want that to be your legacy, I suggest you pick one yourself. For those of you who enjoy RSS feeds, the RSS feed for my comments can be found here. Also my Twitter account feed can be found here. I hate myself.

It has also come to my attention that my website looks terrible in Firefox and Internet Explorer. For the record, I use Internet Explorer because I am a bad nerd. I apparently have a strange version, because my website looks bad in every other copy of IE except mine. I don't really care all that much, because I don't have to look at it, but this is what my website looks like on my computer. It looks fine on my computer, and that's all that matters. Meh.

Alex Chilton, one of the pioneers of pop/rock music and power pop, has died at the age of 59. He passed away yesterday from suspected heart problems in a New Orleans hospital. With his untimely passing, the world just got a lot less joyful. I keep hitting 'refresh' with the hopes that there will be a retraction, but it's appearing less and less likely that is going to happen. It's going to be a difficult couple of days.

Chilton was born in Memphis, Tennessee in December of 1950. He rose to fame when a local band that later would be known as the Box Tops recruited him to be their lead singer. Their breakthrough song, "The Letter", became a #1 hit in 1967 when Chilton was only 16 (and recorded when he was only 15, which proves that life isn't fair). The group recorded a few more hits before disbanding and pursuing individual solo careers in early 1970.

It was at this point that Chilton and fellow Memphis musician Chris Bell together formed the influential power-pop group Big Star. Their first album, #1 Record is 37 minutes and 3 seconds of musical perfection. Every single song, note, and beat contained on the record is pure unadulterated musical brilliance. Some of the high points include "In The Street", which would later be covered by Cheap Trick and used as the theme song to That '70s Show. "The Ballad of El Goodo" is another song that is a perfect synchronization of melody and lyrics, with backing harmonies reminiscent of Brian Wilson. "Thirteen" is described by Rolling Stone (even a broken clock is right twice a day) as "one of rock's most beautiful celebrations of adolescence", and to me perfectly represents the expression of young love and music. Numerous musicians, including Garbage, Wilco, and Elliott Smith have covered it. "When My Baby's Beside Me" is another song that I can't go on enough about. Despite the many positive reviews, the album failed to gain widespread commercial success, mostly due to the incompetent marketing and management of Stax Records. Chris Bell left the group after the first album due to the limited commercial success, but also partly due to power dynamic in the band.

Big Star followed up their debut record in 1974 with Radio City, an effort that garnered the same amount of critical praise, but also had the same amount of commercial failure, due to the incompetence of their new label, Ardent Records. Chris Bell temporary rejoined the group and contributed to the songs "O My Soul" and "Back of a Car".

However, it was a little song that came in at just 2:47 called "September Gurls" that would alter my life forever. The timbre and tone of the guitar combined with the enigmatic lyrics caused a resonation deep inside my psyche that I still get chills/tears over. I've spent days and nights listening to the song on repeat. I've spent days and nights strumming the same chord progression endlessly. Some people might snicker at the thought of putting so much thought and trust and emotion in a single song, but those people are plebes. Sometimes a song is all you've got, and all you'll have, you know? As John Borack writes in Shake Some Action: The Ultimate Power Pop Guide:

"'September Gurls' was and is the sine qua non of power pop, a glorious, glittering jewel with every facet cut and shined to absolute perfection. While The Raspberries' 'Go All The Way' provides a definitive encapsulation of what power pop is, 'September Gurls' goes even further, not so much as the embodiment of a genre, but as a peerless, aching distillation of love and longing. 'September Gurls' may not actually be the greatest song ever recorded, but for the duration of its 2:47 running time, you can be forgiven for believing it is."

The band never recovered from the second album; Alex Chilton recorded a third album under the Big Star name called Third/Sister Lovers, but it contained a different sound, and was not deemed to be commercially viable. It would take three more years until the album would even see release. Chris Bell died in a car accident in 1978. He had dealt with depression stemming from repressed homosexuality that he tried to cope with through Christianity. Alex Chilton recorded several solo albums and had some minor hits, but nothing that rivaled that of the critical success of Big Star. A modified Big Star lineup has performed sporadically since 1993, mostly motivated by interest generated by bands that list Big Star as an influence, including Cheap Trick, R.E.M., The Replacements (they recorded a song simply called "Alex Chilton" in honor of him), the Posies, Velvet Crush, and Tinted Windows – and basically any band that dares to call themselves power-pop.

This sucks. I feel empty, numb, and wanting to vomit since reading this morning that Alex Chilton died – it's like your best friend dying. It's only a feeling that other people who love music more than existence can understand. I mean, how do you talk about someone who basically saved your life? I never had the chance to see Big Star (the modified version), but even if I did get the chance to meet Alex Chilton, I wouldn't know how to summarize how much his music meant to me – some things are beyond time and words. I've been looking up YouTube videos of all of Big Star's songs, and I've been reading all the comments directed at Alex Chilton, and trying not to cry. It's not working. As corny and cliché as it sounds, having people praise your music on an Internet site isn't a bad legacy to leave. We could all do a lot worse. Goodbye Alex.

Oh, and for those wondering, the web service that managed my comments went bust, so there'll be no comments until I code my own comment system. I saved them all, so they are not lost, and they will be back. You'll have to keep your snark to yourself in the meantime.

Only one thing could break my Internet silence and return to posting on my very own site: Youth In Revolt: The Movie. I am a very big fan of the book – an immense fan of the book. It's basically my favorite book ever. I have been looking forward to this movie with equal parts eager anticipation and loathing dread for over a year and a half now. It's been almost three years since I have patronized the local Cineplex – the last movie I saw was The Simpson's Movie. It's good to see that the great recession still hasn't prevented Hollywood from greasing up their fingers and sliding them ever so gently into my wallet and taking $7.50 for a matinee. Clearly supply and demand is no longer in effect, because there were precisely four other people in the theatre with me. I also noticed that they no longer play 'The Ten Spot' or whatever they called it before films. They no longer feed you trivia about actors or actresses that will be appearing in upcoming films. They gave up the false pretense that they were somehow entertaining you, and decided to show nothing but advertisements for television shows and future movies. Also, there are no good movies coming up. Did you know that Bruce Willis and Tracey Morgan are starring in a movie together? You'll never guess what it is. See, Bruce Willis a hardnosed cop, and he gets teamed up with a new partner, who just happens to be black! And as a team they don't play by the rules. It's from the same studio that brought you Dirty Harry if that is any consolation. High jinks will ensue! Revolutionary filmmaking! Anyway, about Youth In Revolt…

I was all prepared to hate this film. As I mentioned earlier, I dearly love this book. I feel a part of me is Nick Twisp. I followed all the casting decisions and was somewhat disappointed. I had never seen Portia Doubleday, but judging from her glamour shot she didn't look like Sheeni Saunders to me. Likewise, Justin Long is no Paul Saunders. When I saw the preview trailer, I gave up any hope that this film was going to be good in any conceivable way. The trailer had everything you don't want to see in a movie. Ironic use of Bon Jovi? Check. Guys standing awkwardly without clothes on? Check. Lots of general necking? Check and check. It looked like just another general raunchy teenage sex comedy.

I'm glad I was wrong.

The film actually is pretty fantastic. I always pictured Michael Cera as Nick Twisp, and I was quickly won over on the Portia Doubleday as Sheeni Saunders thing. Though, Justin Long as Paul Saunders did not work for me, but this may be because I despise Justin Long. Luckily, he is barely in the film, and plays a much less prominent role than in the book. In any event, the movie was entertaining, and remained fairly true to the book (more on that later). They made sure to include many of the one-liners found in the book. Obviously, when you have a 500-page book, and an hour and a half movie, some things are going to get cut. It's akin to trying to stuff a size-30 woman into a size-8 dress. Also, people who have not read the book will probably have difficulty keeping up with all the characters. The movie had very poor character development. People seem to instantly appear, and then disappear just like that. I assure you that it makes complete sense in the book. The movie completely transmogrified the ending of the book, and thus ends in a completely different manner. Like I mentioned earlier, I completely understand the need to do this. I'd still encourage people to see it. However, if you like the movie, you would love the book to pieces. I'd like to copy a section of the first page on the book, with a quote so wonderful that I actually wrote it down the first time I read it:

"The next thing you should know about me is that I am obsessed with sex. When I close my eyes, ranks of creamy thighs slowly part like some X-rated Busby Berkeley extravaganza. Lately I have become morbidly aware of my penis. Once a remote region accessed indifferently for businesslike micturition, it has developed—seemingly overnight—into a gaudy Las Vegas of the body, complete with pulsing neon, star-studded floor shows, exotic animal acts, and throngs of drunken conventioneers perpetually on the prowl for depraved thrills. I walk about in a state of obsessive expectancy, ever conscious of an urgent clamor rising from my tumescent loins. Any stimulus can trigger the show—a rhythmic rumble from the radiator, the world "titular" in a newspaper editorial, even the smell of the old vinyl in Mr. Ferguson's Toyota."

Amen.

I have now become everything I hate, and have signed up for Twitter. I'm really not sure how it is supposed to work, but you are more than welcome to follow my exploits by visiting this link. Please don't hate me.

Here is some of the wacky humour that I have selfishly kept to myself instead of sharing with others: Dutch Bros? Allann Bros? Menendez Bros! Hilarious!

September gurls do so much
I was your butch and you were touched
I loved you, well, never mind
I've been crying all the time

December boys got it bad

September gurls, I don't know why
How can I deny what's inside
Even though I'll keep away
Maybe we'll love all our days

When I get to bed, late at night
That's the time she makes things right
Ooh when she makes love to me

-Big Star, "September Gurls" 

Those who are familiar with me know that I'm a venerable Whitman's Sampler of hate, containing a wide assortment of slightly different topics in which I can no doubt hate upon. Speaking of which, have you ever notified that there is no actual box of Whitman's candies, only the Whitman's Sampler? Sampler implies that there are unique groups of confections available for sale somewhere, and the Whitman's Sampler is a conflation of all these different kinds of specialized candies. Kind of like how Red Lobster has the Seafood Sampler. However, notice that one never sees a box of Whitman's candies for sale – only the Whitman's Sampler. The whole thing makes no sense. In any event, the point is I hate on things, and today's topic deals with my new bank, Chase.

About five months ago, Washington Mutual, my former bank, had a minor flaw in their business model, in the sense that they went bankrupt. JPMorgan Chase decided to buy them at a discount rate, which meant all the Washington Mutuals would become Chase banks. This was all fine and good, until Chase decided that they needed everything converted from the old Washington Mutual to the new Chase. All the signs came down, all the websites changed, and as of last Saturday, they decided to merge the Washington Mutual customer deposits into the Chase customer deposits. This would be okay if they did it, say, in the middle of the night, and they were quick and efficient about it. However, they decided to do it at 4:00pm on a Saturday. All their ATMs no longer functioned, and of course they closed all their branches so no one could have access to their hard-earned capital. No one, including me, could get access to his or her money at all. Somehow I am the only one who has a problem with this. Some guy named Lefty could have been threatening me with the business unless I paid him off, and I wouldn't have been able to do it, and then would have found myself at the bottom of a river sleeping with the fishes. So thanks JPMorgan Chase for almost killing me last Saturday. I look forward to doing business with you in the coming years.

After a nearly four-month absence, I finally have another clown-related story to share with the masses. Patricia Ingalls, a professional clown, was arrested on Friday for alleged drunken driving after she left the scene of an accident. The story is complete with mugshot goodness. Ingalls was apparently, according to her version of the story, driving to a children's party when she got into an accident. She then fled the scene and drank heavily before continuing to the party, where I can only assume she continued to drink heavily in front of children. Police then showed up to arrest her. Here is where her story falls apart:

"They[the children] were all hanging on me and saying, 'Don't take the clown,'" said Ingalls.

Uh huh, sure they were. What a magical place it must be to live in blood alcohol level .252 land, where your profession is respected by children, and they beg law enforcement officials to forgive your felonies, even after you show up at a party looking like this woman did in her mugshot. Good times. 

It's that time of year again – the time in which I congratulate myself for being able to afford the 35 dollars a year it takes to have my unique brand of humor and observation placed on the intertubes. You might have noticed the lack of updates here, except for Burson's posts, whose sole function is to report about sports and sports-like information. This reminds me, are you aware that there is a television program that airs after Portland Trail Blazer games entitled Talkin' Ball? And yes, they really don't include the 'g' in talking. They also don't specify what ball they are indeed talkin'. It could be football, baseball, golf, softball, tennis, croquet, and maybe even cricket. In fact, they could even been talkin' 'bout quidditch. I think quidditch uses flying balls. That's a little bit like an Earth ball. And speaking about the Earth, am I the only one who actually despises Earth Day? I don't really care about the Earth. As someone who isn't going to have kids, I have no vested interest in saving the Earth. When I die, it will be someone else's problem. Let them deal with it. Also, if global warming wiped out all the major cities that were less than 100 feet above sea level, I think that would be a positive thing. Los Angeles, Miami, and New York City can all eat a full bag of it. Speaking of eating a full bag of it, were you aware that there were mass demonstrations of people protesting high taxes in major cities, and they called them tea parties? I was under the impression that everyone loved paying his or her taxes. They referred to this act of civil disobedience as teabagging, which clearly means that no one who organized these protests were under the age of 40. Here is a link to the best article I have ever read regarding this issue, which includes a summary from MSNBC's David Shuster about said teabagging:

He described the parties as simultaneously "full-throated" and "toothless," and continued: "They want to give President Obama a strong tongue-lashing and lick government spending." Shuster also noted how the protesters "whipped out" the demonstrations this past weekend.

Genius. If only they could make every important issue involve crude sexual acts. Also, has anyone else been receiving a large amount of spam recently? Also, doesn't this spam seems awfully specific toward your interests? I've had about 20 emails per day these last few weeks offering me Vicodin, Valium, Xanax, and Zoloft overnighted to me without a prescription. Perhaps Google is the one who sends out these spams based off one's search history. The whole thing fills me with fear and anxiety. If only there were something I could take that would fix that.

Well, that's about it. I can't release too much anger and bitterness in one post. After all, that would make me look like a crazy person, know what I mean? Uhh, yeah, and go!

He was born on September 4th, 1918, and was the son of a police officer. He got his start working in a Tulsa radio station as a janitor before being allowed to fill in and read commercials. Working his way up took him to radio stations such as KOMA and KXOK before briefly serving in the United States Army Air Forces during World War II. After the war he resumed radio, working at WENR before being syndicated via ABC Radio Network. Now, page two.

Have you heard the dulcet tones of the Bose Wave Radio? I get letters from all around the country from people who love their Bose Wave Radio. Gertrude Maloney from Sioux Falls, South Dakota loves her Bose Wave Radio. She writes "I have never had a finer radio in my life. Every morning I wake up and turn on my Bose Wave Radio and enjoy it." Why don't you give Bose a call and tell them to send you a Bose Wave Radio? Now, page three.

A distinguished author, he has written seven books about American culture. In 2005 he was awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom. He has be named Salesman of the Year, Commentator of the Year, Person of the Year, Father of the Year, and American of the Year, and was even named to the Nation Associate of Broadcasters Radio Hall of Fame. But he always knew what was important to him – the love of his wife of 63 years. He died on February 28th, 2009. And that man's name was… Paul Harvey.

And now you know… the rest of the story. Good day!