Recently, our good buddy Charlie F. wrote a big paper on Bob Dylan's 1964 Concert at the New York Philharmonic Hall. Here it is for your reading pleasure:

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“And the first one now, /Will later be last, /For the times they are a-changin'”

-Bob Dylan (from “The Times They Are A-Changin’”)

The Age of Innocence was dead. So to was Kennedy. Triggered by the president’s shocking death, America plunged into a decade-long examination of her fundamental values and mores. The beatnik undercurrents of the 1950s came screaming to the forefront of the national consciousness by the early Sixties, triggering the rise of a counterculture movement that laid challenge to traditional national institutions. By the summer of 1964, a young folk singer from Minnesota, Bob Dylan, had risen to national prominence as the preeminent symbol for the fledgling movement. Dylan exposed the crass absurdities of a “lily-white” America promoted in the wake of World War II. Throughout his career, he used folk ballads, satires, powerful rock numbers, and tender love songs to speak candidly with America’s disillusioned youth. His epoch performance at New York’s Philharmonic Hall on Halloween 1964 engaged a generation of young, politically minded Americans and symbolized the emergence of a new folk culture movement dissatisfied with American society and power politics. The shattering of exuberance, hope and youthful innocence elicited by the Kennedy assassination provides the foundation for Dylan’s prodigious commentary on racial and social injustices, anticommunist idealism, and the rising turbulence in the American psyche.

Dylan’s dramatic performance at the New York Philharmonic on 31 October 1964 intimately portrays the multifarious nature of the social and political dissent spreading among America’s youth. He establishes his dominance over the folk genre from the onset, opening with the seminal protest classic “The Times They Are A-Changin’,” in which he speaks of a “battle outside ragin’” that will “soon shake your windows and rattle your walls.” Dylan warns traditionalists that “the order is rapidly fading” and uses biblical language to assure social outcasts that “the first ones now will later be last.” His message of hope and social revolution is not easily received by the conservative forces which dominated the previous decade, nor readily forgotten by those allied with the Popular Front movement searching for a new Woody Guthrie. The raucous cheers of the audience as Dylan walks on stage, followed by their quiet applause after the first line of “The Times” indicates the tense excitement surrounding this new rebellious hero and the high reverence to which his musical prophesy was held.

Despite his success in the folk genre, Dylan was uncomfortable with the comparisons to Guthrie. When asked to comment on the renowned folk singers influence, Dylan remarked, “Because… Woody Guthrie [was telling his story] much better than I ever could, I decided to stick to my own” (Wilentz, 6). Acknowledging Guthrie’s influence but clearly uncomfortable, Dylan gives deference and attempts to distance himself from the folk legend. His reluctance to fit predetermined categories can clearly be seen in his repertoire on Halloween night. He follows the folk classic “The Times They Are A-Changin’” with a deeply surrealistic work, “Spanish Harlem Incident:”
I been wond'rin' all about meEver since I seen you there.On the cliffs of your wildcat charms I'm riding,I know I'm 'round you but I don't know where (Dylan). Dylan sings of a regal woman posing majestic powers. Standing in stark contrast with the overtly political lead tune, the language of “Spanish Harlem Incident” relies on fantastical visions and idyllic pronouncements. Dylan chronicles his self examination, singing, “I been wond’rin’ all about me.” He uses confusing language to demonstrate his inner conflict; a conflict precipitated by the social forces around him. He has lost all semblance of space as he sings “I know I’m round you but I don’t know where”. Through “Spanish Harlem Incident” Dylan quickly established a unique presence among the concert goers. Part social philosopher, part artistic visionary, he commands the entire attention of his audience and delivers an inspiring and challenging performance. As he transitions from folk to surreal, Dylan highlights the complexities of the new counterculture movement; inspired by beat artists and social injustices alike, it would struggle for a decade against conservative forces calling for unity and conformity.

Although he dabbled in surrealism during his show on Halloween night, Dylan’s performance continued to echo a direct challenge to the traditional bastions of power in American society. Politicians, diplomats, corporations, even the stage announcer were subject to protest. In a foreshadowing of the concerts theme, an employee of the Philharmonic is subjected to boos and mocking cheers from the hostile crowd as he delivers a stern, monotone warning against smoking and photography. To the charged crowd he represents all that Dylan fights against: a drab corporate figurehead forcing morality upon the youthful audience. “With God on Our Side” delivered with Joan Baez in the second set, stands as the ultimate provocation of such authorities. The combination is chilling; Baez appears as a modern Aphrodite, her supernatural voice perfectly complimenting Dylan’s, the humble bard with whom she shares the stage. Hauntingly poetic, the seventh stanza disturbingly portrays the disaster that befalls those who accept without question the decrees of government:

But now we got weapons
Of the chemical dust
If fire them we're forced to
Then fire them we must
One push of the button
And a shot the world wide
And you never ask questions
When God's on your side (Dylan).

Baez’s voice arches over Dylan’s in the middle of each verse, then falls off in regretful tone. They decry the confusion of the times, when the “push of the button” spells doom for the world. Dylan’s lyrics highlight the dangerous absurdities of the fifties and early sixties, when open condemnation of the government was shunned. He masterfully reminds his audience that “…you never ask questions/When God’s on your side,” explicitly denigrating the institutions that force such authoritarian fallacy upon the people, as well as the citizens themselves for accepting these pronouncements.

Throughout the show, Dylan speaks poignantly of the social injustices still prevalent in American society, and the growing turmoil plaguing the American psyche. Dylan, like many other social critics of the time, was dismayed by the barbaric climate of hate he saw simmering throughout the nation. At the Philharmonic, he performed one of his most famous folk songs, "Who Killed Davey Moore," which likens the death of boxer Davey Moore to some sort of Romanesque gladiator brawl in which the audience, ever hungry for violence, drives the competitors to their doom. Dylan describes the atmosphere that night with maniacal diction, speaking of the “gambling man,” the "angry crowd," and the “boxing writer/Pounding print in his old typewriter” as contributors to Moore’s death. He rebukes the idea of a tradition which insensitively claims that “… fist fighting is here to stay/ It’s just the old American Way”. Dylan is troubled by this violent vision of his society, romanticized by many as the “American Way.” In one of his most famous ballads, “Hey Mr. Tambourine Man” Dylan and his audience at the Philharmonic enter a surrealistic world. Beat down by the troubles and complexities of the time, Dylan begs of the Tambourine Man, “Then take me disappearin' through the smoke rings of my mind,/Down the foggy ruins of time, far past the frozen leaves,/The haunted, frightened trees…”. In the songs quiet, almost reminiscent narrative tone, Dylan looks for respite in the rhythms of song and dance. His consciousness, indeed the consciousness of a nation so shattered by the Kennedy assassination has drifted further into despair amongst the civil strife of the previous year. Dylan is tired and beaten: “My weariness amazes me, I'm branded on my feet,/ I have no one to meet.” Blind and lonely, Dylan’s surrealistic vision speaks directly to the tortured youth who feel abandoned by their own society.

The rising racial violence of the Fifties and Sixties provided ample material for Dylan’s scornful exegesis of the events surrounding the death of a black woman, Hattie Carol, at the hands of a young and well connected white man, William Zanzinger. “The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll” opens with a sorrowful harmonica as Dylan seems to apologize to the African American community for violence outbreaks across the country. Dylan exposes the inequalities that remain pronounced in American society, idealizing the humble servant Hattie Carroll “Who just cleaned up all the food from the table.” Again, he relies on biblical references to the servants who picked the crumbs from the foot of the table to invoke amongst the audience a sense of injustice out of line with America’s supposed moral righteousness. In the final stanza his lyrics become familiarly satiric, even angry. He opens with a pronouncement: “In the courtroom of honor, the judge pounded his gavel,” seeming to recognize the power of law; but he swiftly follows with a masterful condemnation of America’s two sided justice: “And handed out strongly, for penalty and repentance,/William Zanzinger with a six-month sentence.” Zanzinger predictably recieves a ridiculous sentence, six months for the murder of a gentle servant of God. Dylan employs religously charged language to speak broadly to a citizenry that seemed to ignore such injustice.

Symbolized by the McCarthyism of the early Fifties and the growing American presence in Vietnam in the early Sixties, the anticommunist idealism that has swept America in the years since the Second World War increases Dylan’s disillusionment with a government that fosters such policy and the contemporary mainstream culture responsible for propagandizing the movement. Dylan openly satirizes such ideology in the third tune of the night, “Talkin’ John Birch Paranoid Blues.” This crowd pleaser fictionalizes the plight of a member of the John Birch Society, an organization created in the Fifties to combat communism on the home front. Dylan pokes fun at the contagious hysteria promoted by such organizations: “ I snuck around the house with a huff and a hiss,/ Sayin’ hands up you communist,/ It was the mailman… he punched me out”. Taking such ideology to the extreme, Dylan imagines the condemnation of Betsy Ross: “…they wus red stripes on the American flag! /That ol' Betty Ross…”. Each stanza is followed by appreciative laughter and often applause from the audience, indicating they echo Dylan’s sentiments. A growing number of Americans recognize the hypocritical nature of such organizations: although they claim to promote democratic values, members are purged in communist-like fashion.

In starkly different terms, Dylan’s recondite “A Hard Rains A-Gonna Fall” was written in the dark days of the Cuban Missile Crisis. Dylan recalls the inspiration; it “…is a desperate song. Every line in it is actually the start of a whole song. But when I wrote it, I thought I wouldn’t have enough time alive to write all those songs so I put all I could into this one” (liner notes, The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan). Dylan’s chaotic visions represent the “peace-through-balance-of-terror” (Nat Hentoff, liner notes, The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan) ideology of the Cold War governments. His youthful protagonists a “blue-eyed son” and “darling young one” conjure up images of innocent American children corrupted by the dogs of war. The crowd at the Philharmonic sat in rapture as Dylan delivered verse after verse full of wickedly disturbing images: “I saw ten thousand talkers whose tongues were all broken,/I saw guns and sharp swords in the hands of young children;” again in the following stanza: “Heard ten thousand whisperin' and nobody listenin',/Heard one person starve, I heard many people laughin',/Heard the song of a poet who died in the gutter.” Beat poet Alan Ginsberg’s from howl undoubtedly provided inspiration for the phrasing of such verse. Dylan ends his first set just as he began, “A Hard Rains A-Gonna Fall’s” harrowing imagery stands as warning against those hawkish forces pushing America to the brink of nuclear destruction.

Bob Dylan’s epic performance on the evening of 31 October 1964 marked a pivotal moment in the career of the singer and the nature of the counterculture movement. Singing at one of the most conservative venues in the city, the New York Philharmonic, Dylan introduced his repertoire of traditional folk ballads and haunting surrealistic musical journeys to a generation of youth disillusioned by the martyrdom of their President and uncomfortable with the growing disturbances in American society. The Philharmonic demonstrates Dylan’s unparalleled command of the agitprop folk-realism and his beautiful knack for abstract philosophy. His play-list stemmed from the revolutionary ballad, “The Times They Are A-Changin’,” to the Ginsbergesque prophesy, “A Hard Rains A-Gonna Fall.” The Philharmonic Concert stunningly demonstrates the power of music on the youth of the 1960s. No longer content with traditional values, these youth soon initiated a movement unprecedented in American society. Just before the concert, Dylan remarked, “I ain’t scared to step out, man” (New Yorker, 24 Oct 1964). By the end of that fall, neither was a generation.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I apologize for any spelling or grammar mistakes, but there is no way I'm peer-editing this thing. Just deal with.

Please Read This Carefully or else it will seem like I've become so intoxicated by my own vanity that I'm losing my mind.

Announcing:


I've always had lots of ideas for various t-shirts, and I know that Richard, among others, has clamored for a t-shirt featuring this image that I made for a WeeNDAY last year:



Inspired by that, I decided to nut up and make a Cafe Press store. Actually, since I'm not a white t-shirt fan, I had to make two to get more t-shirt color options.

Right now I've got four items total. The Zoloft T-shirt, Rio de los Suenos, A Sean shirt featuring his latest, and my favorite, poem on the back, and The Official Phoenix Rivers T-Shirt made out of organic cotton.

Here's the thing, I don't expect anyone to buy any of these shirts. My expectation is so low for this store it's not existent. The truth is that I made the store for myself. These are shirts that I plan on buying for me. This is evident by the fact that I am making no profit off of any of the shirts. These are rock-bottom prices.

I'm not telling anyone to buy anything from the store. I'd almost prefer you didn't just so I can be original. But, if you've got to consume, then consume. The economy could use the help.

Here they are:

Phoenix Rivers Fun Merchandise Zone
&
Save Rivers Magic Land

Enjoy. Or Don't. See if I give a shit.

This is going to seem a little Milesish talking about my new favorite soft drink, but bear with me and the rewards will be great.

Ever since man invented God, they've guessed as to what their deity might drink, were he presented the opportunity to do so. Well, I'm proud to announce that I have tasted God's favorite beverage.

You might wonder, "Rivers, where did you get this miraculous liquid? Will I have to go to the deepest jungles of India? Am I going to have to go to a dark and dank catacombe in Paris or Jerusalem? Do I have to fight a dinosaur, a shark, or a cyclops?" The answer to all of the above imaginary rhetorical questions is "No". In fact you have to go no further than your nearest Winn-Dixie to get this 2 liter bottle of divinity sauce.

You may think that Jesus is God's greatest gift to man. Sorry folks, you've all been punk'd. Jesus was like a birthday present from your weird Mormon relatives that you've only seen once. This is this gift from your dad and your step-mom trying to outdo your real mom and her new husband:

That's right, I think it's about time that we, as a society, did some editing on John 3:16. When you taste it, you'll know what I'm talking about. It's...



Rio de los Suenos: Watermelon Soda

For those of you who can't read Spanish, Rio de los Suenos means "River of Dreams". Fortunately, it's translated into English on the reverse side of the product.

Now, unlike most other watermelon flavored products, this doesn't have the watermelon flavor taste. This shit tastes like REAL WATERMELONS! It's incredible.

From here on out I will devote my life to spreading the gospel of Rio de los Suenos, and I will bring with me it's sacred creed wherever I go:

"Dare to dream...
Reach for the stars...
But remember to enjoy the moment.
NOW is life's most precious gift."

In all seriousness, that is the craziest fucking thing I've ever read off of any product. Not that I don't agree with it, but Jesus, the soda makes death seem so immanent. I better chug this fucking soda. Death is on its way.



That said, this stuff is FANTASTIC. The watermelon flavor is undoubtedly the best, but it doesn't end there. They've got Mango, Pina Colada, Pineapple, and something called Kola Champagne which I'm skeptical of. I think it's like cream soda, but I'm not going to test that theory just yet. I need verification of some sort before I get it.

Rio de los Suenos can be found at both Auburn Winn-Dixie locations and it will run you about 79 cents per bottle. Not an incredible fee to fork over for God's greatest gift to man.

I implore you, buy Rio de los Suenos as quickly as you can.

I got this David Cross bit from Matt on the day before I came back to Montevallo. What I am about to share with you is from David Cross' sophomore stand-up CD, It's Not Funny. After listening to it, I decided that it would be perfect to post because this is Martin Luther King Jr.'s Birthday Bash Weekend.

David Cross takes Dr. King's famous "I Have A Dream" speech, and reworks and delivers it as George W. Bush. It might take awhile to download because it's almost 13 minutes long, but it's well worth it if you've not heard it already.

For some reason, after the M.L.K. bit is over, there's a 4 minute delay or so. I suppose this is a "hidden track" or whatever. Anyway, it's David Cross again and he's indulging in his favorite hobby, talking mad shit about Creed and, more specifically, Scott Stapp.

Like I said, it's totally worth the download.

David Cross- Bush Has A Dream

Happy M.L.K. Day

"If the doors of perception were cleansed everything would appear to man as it is: Infinite."

-William Blake, from The Marriage of Heaven and Hell

I'm sure that everyone is familiar with this statement which is so often uttered by fans of The Doors and other people who have no idea what the fuck they're talking about. Don't get me wrong, I like The Doors as much as the next guy, I just assume that most of the people that listen to The Doors and know of this quote assume that it's about taking drugs, and thus are using it incorrectly. They should be thrown in jail with the rest of America's scum.

Anyway, the reason I bring it up is because I recently found a ridiculously bad ass collection of Acid Jazz and Psychedelic Soul called
The Doors of Perception: Psychedelic Soul and Acid Jazz From New York City 1970-1974

Therefore, it's time once again for a Thurday Album, I know it's only Tuesday, but I'm so excited about this one, I'm putting it out early. For anyone who likes Jazz, Soul, Funk, or just good music in general, this is the collection for you. Unfortunately I've yet to find entire albums from many of these artists on SoulSeek. I guess this OUTSTANDING collection will have to do for now. So without further ado, Phoenix Rivers presents:



1. Fatback Band- Goin' To See My Baby
2. Dizzy Gillespie- Matrix
3. Madhouse- Get Some of This
4. Wanda Robinson- A Possibility Back Home
5. David Bartel- Naturally Good
6. Julius Brockington- Rock Steady
7. James Moody- Heritage Hum
8. Larry Young- Alive
9. Black Ivory- Surrender
10. Adam Wade and Johnny Tate- Brother
11. Shirly Horn- Consequences
12. The Fatback Band- Fatbackin'
13. The Eight Minutes- I Can't Get Enough
14. David Bartel- Summer in the City
15. The Brockingtons- I Just Got To Know
16. Benny Johnson- Stop Me
17. Debbie Taylor- Too Sad To Tell
18. The Exciters- Life, Love, and Peace
19. Dizzy Gillespie- Alligator

Hope you all enjoy this exquisite collection of tunes. I guess I'll take this time to announce that I'm discontinuing "Rivers' Friday Music". This simply due to the fact that I will not have any guarenteed access to a computer on Fridays this semester due to the fact that I don't have class and will not be in Montevallo where my computer is. Perhaps it will become "Rivers' Thursday Music". We'll just have to see. I'm running out of stuff, so I think I'm quitting Weenday as well. However, if I do find anything Ween related that's worth listening to, I'll be sure to post it.

That's all.

Your Child-Like Idealism Is Making Me Sick!



I received this in my email today, and I found it to be most interesting:

Pass this on!

Inauguration Day, Silent Protest

Since our religious leaders will not speak out against the war in Iraq, since our political leaders don't have the moral courage to oppose it, Inauguration Day, Thursday, January 20th, 2005 is "Not One Damn Dime Day" in America.

On "Not One Damn Dime Day," those who oppose what is happening in our name in Iraq can speak up with a 24-hour national boycott of all forms of consumer spending.

During "Not One Damn Dime Day" please don't spend money. Not one damn dime for gasoline. Not one damn dime for necessities or for impulse purchases. Not one damn dime for anything for 24 hours.

On "Not One Damn Dime Day," please boycott Walmart, KMart and Target. Please don't go to the mall or the local convenience store. Please don't buy any fast food (or any groceries at all for that matter).

For 24 hours, please do what you can to shut the retail economy down. The object is simple. Remind the people in power that the war in Iraq is immoral and illegal; that they are responsible for starting it and that it is their responsibility ... BLAH BLAH BLAH

I don't think I care enough to do it. Mainly because this seems like an INCREDIBLY feeble effort. In case you didn't know, rich people vote for Bush and they can buy more shit in one day than your little hippie fuck family could buy in a decade.

As soon as Bush gets wind of this rinky-dink plot he'll tell all of his buddies to purchase your children and sell them on the black market as sex slaves. Don't fuck with W. If you do, he'll fuck your kids.

I have no idea how this picture relates to anything, I've just been aching to put it out there.

Due to the insanely nice weather we've been experiencing here in the A.U.B., I decided that it would be a choice time to go and check out our old summer stomping grounds at the Saugahatchee creek in beautiful Loachapoka, Alabama.

Since I was pretty sure that the water would be much too cold for anyone in their right mind to go swimming in (I would later be proven very wrong), I decided that we would need something else to do out there. I figured that the allure of hot meat might be something powerful enough to attract at least a small crowd of folks to the creek.



Besides, who could resist hot dogs that were grilled only after spending a great length of time (15 minutes or so) in the "Marination Station"?

The answer, of course, is 'no one', and so Adam, Miles, Rollie, Conor, Eoghen (Conor's younger bro-ham) and I headed out to the creek.



Conor came decked out in full Ween regalia. He was more than ready to Coot-R-Done.

Unfortunately for Conor, and everyone else present, the "Instant light" charcoal which I had retrieved from my father's shed had somehow gone bad and wouldn't instant light. I'm not exactly sure how a fucking rock goes bad, but somehow this particular collection of rocks managed to.



Everyone did their best to get the fire started, but it just wasn't happening. It was then that I sent Miles and Adam to go and get some lighter fluid from the closest store, that being Greenway groceries located on Highway 14.

Much to our dismay, Adam and Miles returned empty handed. It was then that Adam and Miles lost the faith and decided to call it a day.

It was also this point in which Rollie lost his shirt and decided to hop in the water. I don't know if I can stress enough how cold this water actually was. It hurt just to put your toe in. This is like ice water mixed with anti-matter. It was insanely freezing. That said, here's Rollie's HONEST-TO-GOD reaction after emersing his entire body into the water which I have just described:



His facial expressions, when taken out of context, would imply that he's just witnessed his first and only child being sucked up towards the heavens in an F5 tornado. I guess that's about how he felt after some shit like that. The man is crazy.

So, after Rollie's insane aquantics (aqua + antics; use it if you like) it was time to get crackin' on the fire. Everyone collected small sticks and brush to be used to ignite the fire which we built on top of the charcoal bed in the hopes that it would be enough to heat our meat. Indeed, our endeavor proved successful and we ate a hot, fresh, and savory dinner just as it was getting dark over the creek bottom.



Eoghen gave the meal two thumbs up.

(And Gone)



After being inspired by Lots of Co., Richard and I took it upon ourselves to throw a proper Festivus party.

Before the party began we had to ask ourselves one simple question: "What would Frank Costanza do?". First of all, Frank would hold Festivus at his house, but since no one has a real house, we decided that Festivus could be held at no other place than in the sprawling fields of Gold Hill, Alabama at an old classic: Madison's Cabin. We also decided that since the date matched the temperature (23 degrees, December 23rd) we really wanted to be in a place without any heaters.

Fortunately, the cabin was actually very crowded on the night of Festivus, and the extra body heat was much apprish. We got two fires going, one inside, one outside and then it was time to get down to the get down.



We had flaming TeePee and Ev'ry Thang



Soon after the rockin' n' burnin' had begun, I performed my toboggan trick (as seen here being performed by Trent). This is a very simple 3rd grade science experiment in which a person blessed with longer hair takes a toboggan, beanie, knit hat, etc. places it on his/her head and rubs violently. When they pull it off, by way of static electricity, the hair will stand straight up. Observe:







(Please excuse the shitty red-eye correction)

After fun with static, it was time for the first right of Festivus, the much heralded "Airing of Grievances". The elders of the Festivus delegation carried the traditional bare aluminum Festivus pole up to the loft where the congregation was congregated. The grievances began with a bang as "someone who doesn't matter" aired their grievances. Honestly, I can't remember who went first I just remember Trent's request that "someone who doesn't matter" should go first.



Anyway, overall I'd have to say that Richard had the best grievances, such as those against Matt, Conor, and especially his VERY peculiar grievance against Alyssa.

I believe that it went something like this:

Alyssa, I'm going to share my grievance with you in the form of an allegory. My grandfather used to catch alligators down in the Everglades for a job when he was younger. In order to catch the alligator he would swim up behind it, grab its jaws and wrestle it down. I feel like that's all you've got left in life. You're just waiting around for some strange man to swim up behind you, grab you, and domesticate you; and that's a shame.

I'm still trying to wrap my head around that one.

Although Richard's grievances were the best overall, the best singular grievance belonged to none other than Mr. Trent Kimmescam. This is the quote:

"Um, to all of you sophomores, I don't really know any of you, but it doesn't matter because you're all the same person."

It was harsh to say the least, but I still laughed my ass off, as did everyone else present after a short ooooooooooh session.



Conor got the honorable mention, I think. I can't really remember.

After the surprisingly therapeutic Airing of Grievances, it was on the final miracle of Festivus: "Feats of Strength". This is the closing ceremony of Festivus in which someone has to pin the head of the household in a wrestling match before Festivus can end. In our case, this meant that Madison would have to be pinned in order for Festivus to come to a close. After Miles left, however, the comers who were willing to wrestle Madison, and the comers who Madison was willing to wrestle were few and far between.



It was finally agreed that Richard, with hair still in static limbo, would be the one to close out Festivus for us on that cold December evening.











With that fateful pinning of the shoulders, only feet from a decaying cow patty, Festivus came to an end.

I can honestly say that I had a better time at our Festivus celebration than I've ever had at Christmas. I think that anyone with a soul and a good sense of humor would agree with me. Believe it or not, you might even learn something about yourself during Festivus. Unfortunately everyone just told me that they either had nothing bad to say, or that I was a huge asshole. Nothing I didn't already know unfortunately. Maybe next Festivus.

Good God. Due to said computer troubles, I have a lot of catching up to do with this website. So, without further adieu, here are the pictures that I snapped from my front row position at the Tishamingo, Drive-By Truckers, and North Mississippi All-Stars concert that Matt, Conor, Chandler, Sean and I attended way the hell back on November 26th of LAST YEAR.

Tishamingo:









Tishamingo's bassist looks kind of like a 30 year old Rod V.



In one of the biggest highlights of the evening, Tishamingo invited Wildman Steve on stage to jam out with them on his washboard. Watching Wildman Steve jamming live is religious experience. If you've yet to have this experience, get off your ass and start going to as many shows as you can. You might get lucky like I did.

The Drive-By Truckers:

Wowsers, what a band! Going into the concert I could only name one DBT song. Coming out of the show, I still could only name two or three (this due to some intense sing-along action), but what I heard inside The B&A Warehouse that night made me a fan for life. Next time they're about, I encourage everyone to see the Drive-By Truckers.

















Matt was diggin' it.



Conor was feeling stoic.



Chandler was in the mood to move to the left three feet GOD DAMMIT!

I actually didn't take any pictures of the North Mississippi All-Stars. After Drive-By I gave up my position in the front row to a guy who was too metrosexual for comfort.



I retreated to the rear of the venue where Conor lay in wait.

All be damned if Conor and I didn't sit back there for a good three hours listening to North Mississippi. We had to leave Birmingham before the show was over because at 2:45 AM North Mississippi was still showing no signs of slowing down and dammit I had to drive back to Auburn that night.

Oh shit, the ride home was hellatious. I hate to even think back on it. I wouldn't wish that drive on my worst enemy. Nothing happened, I was just dangerously and painfully tired.

Now, what I haven't told you about this adventure is that Richard, who opted to stay in Auburn due to a lack of funds, had been calling us sporadically throughout the night and insisting that we come over to his house after the show seeing as how his birthgivers were nowhere to be found.

After dropping off Sean and Chandler at 5:15 AM, the remaining members of the party went over to Richard's house. We cautiously proceeded inside, very much expecting to find a sleeping Richard somewhere in the vicinity. It was much to our surprise when an frighteningly energetic Richard popped out from a room to the right of the door we had just come in. From the appearance of the house, there was definitely some partying which had taken place in our absence. We told Richard of our wild tales, then he shared tales from his night as well.



It was about then that we decided the time for some sunrise hamburgers had come.



While we waited for the burgers to cook Richard, Matt, and I frolicked in the crisp pre-dawn air.



Then, noticing a very large and somewhat mysterious cigarette ash stain on his porch, Richard declared it to be clean-up time.

We ate hamburgers with the dawn. The feeling was incredible. Then I slept until the next night.

A Quick Culinary Tip: For a damn good cheeseburger, use Havarti cheese.