When I originally told people I was going to Bonnaroo, they basically responded in three different ways:

1) “That’s really cool!”

2) “Bonna-WHO!?”

3) “Who are you and why are you telling me this? Please move over and take your hand off my leg.”

For the readers that don’t know, the Bonnaroo Music and Arts Festival is, well, just that. First held in 2001 most likely in celebration that we recently survived Y2K, the camping festival features a diverse selection of drugs, music, drugs, comedy, the cruel sun, and drugs spread out amongst 1.5 zillion acres (citation needed) on a farm in Manchester, Tennessee. Vendors, crafts, and more drugs round out the festivities. Named one of the “50 Moments That Changed the History of Rock and Roll” by Rolling Stone and “totally far out, man” from that white dude with dreadlocks you know, the festival is both heaven and hell on Earth for four days a year.

Going into the festival as a Bonnaroo-virgin, I read up and heard stories on what to expect but I knew the usual preparation of deep reflection meditation and stealth martial arts meant nothing when I would step foot on the grounds of Tennessee. Before reaching the sacred land, I knew that I had a car ride from New York that would seem like an eternity and a half in store. I attempted to prepare by loading my ipod up with stuff I probably wouldn’t listen to when the time came and bringing a few books that would sit in the bottom of my bag, and I was on my way.

The car ride seemed to be taking forever, then I realized that I hadn’t left my driveway yet. Starting out with two buddies, we drove a bit out of the way to pick up another friend. Finally, we were on the real journey. The car ride was an intense experience: full of Louis C.K. stand-up albums and deep conversation such as, “hey, was that a Cracker Barrel?”

Stopping at a Cracker Barrel in the south seemed like the right thing to do, and the time spent there proved to be much more rewarding than any CB’s I had been to in New York. While I expected someone to rip the plug for the jukebox out of the wall and everyone to collectively stare at us when we walked in while someone somewhere stroked their beard, the place was instead full of good vibes. Full of pictures of what seemed like slaves and ghost babies from the 1800s, the atmosphere was relaxing and the grits were cooked to perfection.

Back on the road, things went fairly smoothly. Our GPS with an Australian accent led the way while our sense of excitement grew. Stopping off one last time for gas, I was asked by the girl at the counter if I wanted to attend the Riverbend Festival. “You should come,” she said in a southern drawl. “It’s not fun and there are a lot of kids running around everywhere. Sheryl Crow will be there.” I was sold, but there wasn’t enough time to run around with the kids that day. Father time doesn’t wait for Sheryl Crow to sing that one song with Kid Rock, and I didn’t want to be late for Bonnaroo. Enough was enough. No more stops, we had to now drive straight through to Manchester.

“Manchester is, like, so nice this time of year, guys.”

Upon entering the town eventually, our bodies were showing signs of being cooped up in a car for a day straight. Finally free from the car prison, we perked up a little bit. Getting there a full day before the festival began, we had nothing to do but a last second beer run at Wal-Mart (more like Wal-Fart, am I right???) and eat lunch. By the time late in the night when we were waiting in traffic to be let into our campsite, the rain that had been going since the beginning of time finally let up and turned into a slight drizzle.

What traffic without your glasses on may look like

It didn’t matter that we had to wait a few more hours in the car, we were finally there. Reaching the camping grounds was a beautiful sight, except for the ocean of mud and evil that surrounded everything.

“Are you guys having fun yet!?!?”

Bad moods suddenly began to creep up on us. We hadn’t truly slept in a day straight, and now we were setting up the tent in the aftermath of the perfect storm. Coming from the porta-potty back to the site, I encountered a mote of mud and water around our section of the camp site. “This is it, Andrew” I said to myself in my head. “This is your time to shine. You have been waiting for this your whole life. You always knew you had strong legs. Let yourself soar. Believe you can fly and you will.” I leapt across the mud, majestically I floated in the air while for a total of two seconds, all of the planets aligned, 2-Pac was still alive, and peace on earth was possible. Then I fell on my ass backwards in the mud, slowly sinking while a group of guys with dreadlocks pointed and screamed. The second in command howled like a wolf while the leader screamed “Bonnarooooo!” at the night sky. The henchman, of course, and everyone around them finished it off with “rooooooooooooooooooooo” before trailing off. Bonnaroo had officially begun.

Back in the tent now, our enthusiasm remained somewhere deep in our souls while our shitty-mood vibes sat on top. I was still excited for what was to come, but being soaked in a southern mud paste only moments before and functioning off zero sleep certainly put a damper on the night. It was then that I decided I would copy a speech from Lost, because that’s what people are supposed to do when they are stuck at a crossroads. I explained that while the trip started off fun and now we were basically stressed out zombies, we had to make the best of it. We came to see some great music and have fun, and now all we were doing were getting pissed at the smallest things.

“This pillow is too SMALL, dammit. FUCK!”

It was time to make a decision… we could either “live together or die alone.” Being at Bonnaroo was a lot like being on the island: everyone was stuck there no matter what, and the unexpected was around every corner. “We need to just let go of everything else and have the best time possible,” I said while gently wiping mud off my butt. Thankfully, they agreed.

The next morning, we were ready for the festivities to come. I was woken up around 6:00 AM by the angry sun raping my body and mind. Sleeping in a pool of sweat and grime, I decided it was best to try and go back to sleep in my own filth. The sun was none too pleased.

“I said wake up, BITCH.”

By 6:30 AM, I was fully awake. Any more sleeping was out of the question, and the conversation between my friend and a fellow camping neighbor had me hooked. The neighbor insisted that Fruity Pebbles are “more valuable than pot here, mannnn.” I am not sure what happened next, but I assumed his head ballooned up to a gigantic size and he flew up into the clouds, never to be seen again.

After a vigorous tooth brushing and a change of clothes, I was ready to go. Finally, I was going to see some music. I really had no clue what was in store for me. We walked around for a bit, taking everything in.

Pictured: Hugo Reyes

Now, let’s fast forward to Friday night for a little bit…

Friday 06-11-10

The Flaming Lips (Which Stage): Skipping Kings of Leon in order to get a good spot for The Flaming Lips seemed like a good idea at the time, but I wasn’t prepared for what was to come. We got there about two and a half hours early and secured a spot against the middle barricade, dead center, about 15 or 20 feet from the stage. As great as getting in the front can be, The Flaming Lips have such face-melting visuals that we wanted to be standing back a tiny bit so we could take it all in. With this spot, I could see everything. I’m not the tallest person in the world and even if R2D2 was in front of me, I probably couldn’t see very well.

“Hey! Down in front, asshole!”

With the exception of Conan O’Brien earlier in the day, we had been standing for most of Friday, so sitting down on the ground felt like heaven. By the time the show had started, I was completely reenergized and ready to go. Still, I was unaware of the pure awesomeness that was about to unfold. The show started off with the huge screen showing a naked chick. Obviously, she gave birth to the band and they came out onto stage. Frontman Wayne Coyne, not wanting to have anything but a great time, came into the crowd in an inflatable ball. Amidst cannons shooting confetti, a light show turning my life upside down, and videos on the screen that would make even Stan Brakhage say “cool” (if he wasn’t dead), the band kicked so much ass that it basically rendered anything else in my life I would think was awesome as only mildly awesome from now on.

(not my video but it’s fucking awesome)

Hovering above the crowd, there was a big enough storm cloud of sex, drugs, and rock n roll to make all of Motley Crue shed a tear or two. At one point, my friends and I were completely hypnotized by the show in front of us. Naturally, a voodoo-looking hippie placed himself all up in our grills. After an ear splitting tribal scream, he held up something in his hand and proceeded to blow the smoke of the ancients into our faces. After a one song delayed reaction, I turned to my friends to say “what the FUCK just happened!?” Someone next to us then said, “Hey, man. I think that was opium.” Of course it was.

The only experience I’ve ever had with a master of voodoo

For the first hour, the Flaming Lips played their own material to a partying crowd. As my friend described, it felt like euphoria. As the god damn opium kicked in, the band came back out to play Dark Side of the Moon in its entirety. Let me repeat that sentence: As the god damn opium kicked in, the band came back out to play Dark Side of the Moon in its entirety. While the first set felt like euphoria, Dark Side of the Moon shifted the feeling to pure paranoia. At one point, in the dark, my friend looked down to check on his book bag. Since checking for book bags on opium is not recommended, he couldn’t see anything and assumed that it had been sucked into a black hole in the ground.

Schedule II narcotic or no schedule II narcotic, the Flaming Lips were one of the best concert-going experiences I’ve had. So much, in fact, that the day I got back from Bonnaroo, we purchased tickets to see them again next month. Now, let’s rewind and go back to when all the music started…

Thursday 06-10-10

The Postelles (That Tent): First up on the agenda were the New York City pop-rock band, The Posttelles. I thought I had recognized the name (it’s possible I only recognized the name from the schedule), but definitely hadn’t heard a song before. Interested in checking out some new music, we went. After the first song in their catchy set of poppy rock n’roll, I was completely ready to have a good time for the rest of the weekend. It was very apparent that the rest of the crowd felt the same way. So excited I couldn’t take it, I reached into my pocket to pull out some Fruity Pebbles to snort, obviously. Sadly, I had none left. I asked around if I could score some, but nobody was holding. Some had Cocoa Pebbles, but let’s get serious here, it’s just not the same.

Baroness (The Other Tent): Next up were stoner-metal band Baroness. Yet another group I had heard about but never listened to. I instantly wanted to go when one friend described them as, “southern dudes with big beards who play sludge metal.” I had already started walking towards the stage when I heard “big beards.” You may not think about it all the time, but sooner or later it crosses everyone’s mind…”gee, I haven’t seen any big ol’ beard in a long time.” My wish was granted by a bunch of southern Vikings.

It’s safe to say they rocked my face off, and definitely would have rocked my beard off if I had one at the time. It may not be something I’d turn up while taking it easy on a Sunday afternoon, but I definitely dug Baroness. I would have liked if I could have injected Fruity Pebbles direction into my veins via a long-ass needle, but once again nobody was holding.

Manchester Orchestra (The Other Tent): Third up on Thursday were Manchester Orchestra, a band I was already acquainted with. After jumping around to The Postelles and rocking out to the technical wizards Baroness, Manchester Orchestra provided a good time to sit against the outer wall and relax. I was a casual fan, and preferred to use this time to rest up for the remaining shows of the night. Manchester Orchestra may not have blown me away like Beard-O-Ness before them, but I still had a good time taking it easy for an hour or so listening to some sloppy indie-rock.

Neon Indian (That Tent): Thursday was the day to try out new music, and none had me excited more than Neon Indian. The nighttime had finally crept up on Bonnaroo, and I was in the mood for what my friend described as, “crazy but chill beats you can groove to.” Since my ass was in great need of some serious grooving, I wanted to get up close and be surrounded by the crowd and atmosphere. The Neon Indian show proved to be the most fun of the night. I wasn’t sure if everyone was already familiar with the music or just having such a great time they couldn’t help but be so into it. Either way, everyone was having a most triumphant time. Amongst a haze of smoke and second hand cocaine, the crowd didn’t stop moving and dancing for the duration of the whole set.

Blitzen Trapper (The Other Tent): Two of my friends hadn’t heard Blitzen Trapper before. I knew we wouldn’t get to see the whole set if we wanted to make the next act, but I liked what I had of theirs (especially the album Furr) and wanted to check it out. We saw the first hour or so while sitting back in the grass. I liked what I heard, and would definitely be interested in seeing a full show from them in the future.

The xx (That Tent): After so much ass shaking during the day, Blizten Trapper was a good time to sit back. Now it was time to get lost in the music again. The xx, as I hoped, were a nice and mellow follow up. The album I have of theirs isn’t the most energetic music in the world, but Radiohead is one of my favorite bands so I wasn’t complaining especially after the grooving marathon that was Neon Indian. The gloomy and intimate show ended up being another highlight of the day.

Friday 06-11-10

Conan O’Brien (Cinema Tent): I was excited when Conan was added to the comedy lineup, especially after I missed out on seeing him at Radio City. Sadly, we didn’t get tickets to the comedy tent after waiting around for a few hours. In fact, the cut off for when it “sold out” happened with only about 15 or so more people in front of us on line. Fortunately, we did get tickets to the cinema tent which featured a live feed and air conditioning, a godsend after spending every waking hour getting destroyed by the merciless sun. Sitting in the cinema tent for an hour or so with some hilarious entertainment was the perfect way to recharge our batteries (the batteries in our soul, not our cell phones and ipods. They had a station for that).

Damian Marley & Nas (What Stage): Since the first day featured just the tents, Damian Marley and Nas were my first trip to the main stage. Standing in the sun may have felt as pleasant as being fingered by Freddy Krueger, but their set was so much fun it didn’t really matter. I was excited for this show, especially since I had never seen the Queens native in person. They switched off between songs together and their solo work, and I wouldn’t have minded staying for the whole time. But, we left a little early in order to secure a good spot for The National.

The National (Which Stage): I had already seen The National twice before, but they are one of my personal favorite bands and no other show during the weekend had me more excited. Some complain they aren’t lively enough in person, but as a friend pointed out and I agree: it’s more of the too cool to have a good time crowd that frequents their shows (at least in the New York area). Thankfully, the crowd at Bonnaroo, as always, were ready to have a good time. From the start of Start a War up until the closing songs of Mr. November, Terrible Love, and About Today, The National had the crowd in high spirits. After their set ended, my friend and I turned to each other saying the same thing: “that was one of the best shows I’ve ever seen.” Frontman Matt Berninger and the rest of the band seemed to be having as good of a time as the rest of the crowd.

I got this silkscreen poster as well, made special for the Bonnaroo show. Numbered 83/100:

Tenacious D (What Stage): While I would have liked to see their whole set, we got to catch the last 45 minutes or so and I didn’t mind considering how incredible The National were only minutes before. Tenacious D were exactly what I expected and hoped for: an energetic, funny, and rocking good time. Jack Black, sweaty as all fuck, is one hell of a performer.

Dawes (Troo Music Lounge): We decided earlier in the day to skip the Friday night headliners Kings of Leon in order to get a good spot for The Flaming Lips at midnight. Luckily, Dawes were performing early enough that we could see them and still get to our spots for the Lips in time. My two friends weren’t familiar with the band, but I convinced them to go. I said that their debut was great and that I had heard nothing but incredible stuff about them in concert. Also, they had recently opened for Josh Ritter, the only other man I love as much as Bob Dylan and Neil Young. When we first arrived to the small location for Dawes, I was as excited as could be. Just like with The National, we had gotten front row. The difference was that with Dawes, there was no stage but just a barricade separating us from the band.

I expected good things, but I once again wasn’t prepared for how awesome it truly would be. For an hour straight, Dawes rocked our fucking faces off.

Moments later, he opened his mouth to reveal fangs and ripped our hearts out while doing a guitar solo

They seemed incredibly happy to be there and really into the fact that we and everyone else were so into it as well. The next day, we got to meet them. The time for when they were signing stuff had ended but we had just arrived. The woman told us we had to leave but my friend yelled to them how awesome they were. They laughed and pointed at us and the woman told us we could go over. Just like during the show, they were very nice and seemed genuinely happy we enjoyed their music so much. I hope these guys blow up, as in get really popular and noticed…not die in a horrible explosion.

If you are in the New York area, please check out their FREE show in July.

Saturday 06-12-10

Norah Jones (Which Stage): Feeling exhausted from the day before and working on a combined six or seven hours of sleep for the past two days, I sat down on the grass for most of Norah Jones. It was a rewarding move and her music let some much needed relaxation occur. Her mellow set was a good prelude to the craziness that would follow.

The Avett Brothers (Which Stage): Another one of the smaller bands I was excited to see at the Roo. I’ve been a fan for about three or four years now, but never saw them in prison (I wanted to write “person,” but wrote “prison” instead. I like the typo so much I don’t want to change it). The fun crowd at the Which Stage was a nice addition to their foot-stomping set of folk-rock. During the end, we got up quite close in order to get a good spot for Weezer who would take the stage next.

Weezer (Which Stage): Even though I had heard their newer setlists weren’t just riddled with the newer material, I couldn’t help but have mixed expectations for Weezer. I hadn’t seen them since 2001, and after the release of the Green Album, they had released, in my eyes, one fairly good album (Maladroit) and three mostly shitty ones minus some songs here and there. I still think Rivers Cuomo’s solo albums of demo material are better than most Weezer stuff post-Pinkerton. Still, I wanted to at least attempt to have an open mind for the show.

Weezer did not disappoint. I was unsure, at first, of how I felt about Rivers being strictly a front man with no guitar, but being front row yet again and seeing him act like a complete and total dork was fun. To my delight, Rivers did play some guitar and they did bust out about half the Blue Album and one track off the almighty Pinkerton. The setlist did contain more of the newer stuff as well, but it didn’t matter….it was all fun. To finish off the show, they ended with a cover of MGMT’s Kids leading into Lady Gaga’s Poker Face. Rivers may have donned a Gaga-like wig at the end to look more the part, but I thought he resembled Garth from Wayne’s World a tiny bit more.

I could have sworn we took pictures of the show, but the camera didn’t have any when we checked later on. It’s very possibly we never made it to Weezer and were still at The Flaming Lips the night before, drooling and standing in the same place.

What Weezer may or may not have looked like

Stevie Wonder (What Stage): We missed the opening of Stevie Wonder due to the massive human traffic jam from Weezer. For about twenty minutes, I was sandwiched between other people who smell just as bad as me, taking baby steps in the mud towards the light. When we finally reached the new sea of people who smell equally as bad, we attempted to make our way down to the stage. For the first time during the weekend, it wasn’t so easy to get through the crowd. Everyone seemed to be trying to do exactly what we were doing: attempting to get as close as possible for Stevie Wonder and at the same time, gaining a great spot for Jay-Z who was on next. During the fifth or so minute of being backed up against a hot dog truck and feeling some dude’s sweat drip off his body onto mine, I decided getting up close maybe wasn’t such a great idea. For most of Stevie Wonder, I sat back on the grass. I could still see, I just wasn’t down in the pit. Stevie Wonder was a fun time but I didn’t mind being a bit far back for it.

Jay-Z (What Stage): During Stevie Wonder, I had regained my energy once again. Before Jay-Z went on, I went back into the sea of people and made my way much closer. I was happy I did since Jay-Z’s entire set played out like one big party in the crowd. While I do like the guy, he’s not my usual cup of tea. It didn’t matter though, and his time on stage was one of the most fun times of the weekend. The guy is one hell of a performer, and knows how to command a crowd like none other.

Sunday 06-13-10

Aziz Ansari (Comedy Theatre): We missed out on seeing Conan in person on both Friday and Saturday, so we really didn’t want to miss out on Aziz. While I was excited to see Conan do his whole shtick with songs and videos and what not, I was even more thrilled to see some straight-up stand up comedy. Maybe it was because of the feeling the air conditioning caused, or the fact that we were all delirious by this point, and probably just because he was that damn good, but Aziz Ansari was absolutely hilarious. For an hour, he did new material and killed it. By this point, everyone was pretty much dead. Like a car running on empty, we were using whatever we had left to get by. Aziz managed to lift the spirits of everyone in attendance. By the time we were walking out, we felt like new people. Then the cruel sun got really fucking mad and bitch slapped us the second we left the tent and got back outside.

“hahahaha. You are all my bitches”

John Fogerty (What Stage): As much as I wanted to see all of Ween on the Which Stage, I just had to stay for all of John Fogerty’s set. I don’t know about my friends, but I was happy as hell to see the guy. Brought up on Creedence Clearwater Revival, Fogerty was one of my most anticipated shows of the weekend. Playing mostly CCR mixed in with some solo stuff and covers, Fogerty rocked my sweaty and disgusting socks right off my feet. I even called my mother to tell her what I was witnessing. I’m a dork, but I had to. As a young lad, she showed me the light that isvCCR, and I am eternally grateful. Somehow, somehow, The Dude abides.

Ween (Which Stage): Ween are that rare band of talented musicians who defy any standard genre. They aren’t weird because they try too hard, but instead are just a group of oddball guys that really like to make music. I would have liked to see the whole show, but John Fogerty shoving rock n’roll down my throat was too good to leave early. Still, I was more than happy to see a little bit of Ween than no Ween at all.

Phoenix (Which Stage): For the third time (not including Dawes), we got front row. I loved the albums I had of Phoenix, and their catchy brand of modern alternative-rock was the exact type of show I wanted to get up front for. Yet again, I was in heaven and Phoenix did not disappoint. Their set was fun, loud as fuck, and another highlight of the weekend. At one point, I actually checked my ears to make sure they weren’t bleeding. They were. (They weren’t. But it would be a whole lot cooler if they were).

Dave Matthews Band (What Stage): Before Sunday, I hadn’t seen Dave Matthews Band in five years. Since then, their style of live shows has changed a bit. Contrary to what some may think, they do not simply play the same songs over and over and like any great band, their style does not remain the same. With that said, I was surprised and happy how easy it was for me to get into the newer material. Sure, the real fun came when they played the songs I had listened to 1,000 times during the 90s and early 2000s, but the show as a whole was quite great and a fitting closer for the weekend. The inclusion of Dave covering Neil Young’s classic, the Needle and The Damage Done was a nice touch.

Walking back to the campsite for the last time, we felt a sense of accomplishment. Amidst the crowd, cheers of “WE DID IT!” could be heard all around. Not only did we see some great music and have an amazing time, but we survived. It didn’t matter if it was the intense sun, long lines for water, or some shitty mud…we braved through it with high spirits having the best time possible. I may have gotten back at 7 in the morning the next day and had to work, but it was worth it. All of it was worth it. Especially when we stopped off to get gas and some food at Burger King (more like Booger King, am I right!???), and I saw on my receipt that I had apparently been served food by…

Yes.

While looking for videos, I stumbled upon this so I might as well post it:

Thanks for reading. All pictures (with the exception of the obvious ones like Papa Shango, Garth, etc. were photographed by either me or James Gethins). If you want to share your own Bonnaroo experiences, feel free to leave a comment.

Also, I have to hand it for Timex for making some great watches. “Timex- takes a licking and keeps on ticking.” The strap was in pieces by the end of the weekend (I may have possibly tried to eat it during The Flaming Lips) but the actual watch part still works fine. A licking, indeed.

]]> http://zubazpants.com/2010/06/22/bonnaroo-2010-what-a-loud-smelly-trip-its-been/feed/ 139 http://zubazpants.com/2010/04/17/so-runs-the-world-away/ http://zubazpants.com/2010/04/17/so-runs-the-world-away/#comments Sat, 17 Apr 2010 16:49:16 +0000 theECTOCOOLER http://zubazpants.com/?p=390 After having the chance to listen to Josh Ritter’s new album “So Runs The World Away” from begining to end for the first time, I have to push this video because this dude is just that good.

“Rattling Locks”, a soundcheck performance by Josh Ritter and The Royal City Band in Asbury Park, NJ.

So I was at the dentist the other day.
I absolutely dread going to the dentist.
Not necessarily because I have bad teeth problems or anything, more just the creepiness of everything being so damn sterile in there.

Anyways, we got to the end of the cleaning and it was apparently obvious that I…do not floss. I came right out and admitted to not flossing. I’m a steady 2-3 times a day brusher and mouth-washer as well, but flossing just is not my thing.

That’s when something even stranger happened.
The dentist tried to persuade me into flossing by saying:
“You wouldn’t take a shower without cleaning between your toes right? Well it’s the same thing with your teeth.”

That took me by surprise. I love showers…LOVE’EM. I also Consider myself a pretty clean person too. But shit…I don’t ACTIVELY take the time to clean between my toes when I shower. They’re right there sopping up all the soap and water from the rest of the washing…I didn’t think they needed their own attention.

Now I’m wondering if I’m in the wrong here and have been a filthy animal all this time.
So I raise the question to you Zubaz readers: Do you purposely clean between your toes?

This thing was LOADED. Cheese, pickles, lettuce, tomato, sauteed onions, ketchup, mustard, hot sauce. The regular fries were too much to finish on top of this madness.

I’m not a man of many words, so I will leave you with this semi-decent cellphone picture I took that night.

Everyday, right before our very eyes, countless fat men attempt a staggering feat of deception so grand, the likes of which haven’t been seen since wanksta’s tried to convince society that neck tattoos are an appropriate way to show unbridled love for someone.

What I am referring to is the self-management of the fat man jaw line. 

You don’t have to be Tony Little to realize that the chubbier you get, the more your flabby skin and gooey fat deposits engulf your bones and natural body curves, including the jaw line.  However, instead of embracing this, or maybe using this as motivation to hit the Thighmaster and Soloplex, many fat men go in a furrier direction.  Instead, they attempt to disguise their gluttonous face and trick the world into thinking they are petite by growing one of the worst facial hair monstrosities of all time, the chin strap. 

Here is Big Pun representing the fatty nation.

Maybe it’s to help them think they aren’t as gargantuan as they really are.  Maybe it’s to save what little pride and self-esteem they may have.  Maybe it’s because their face plumps up so large they don’t have enough razor to shave that big of a surface area.

Regardless of the reason, one thing is for sure…they aren’t fooling anyone but themselves.  We know the edge of the chin strap isn’t your jaw line.  We know that your jaw line is actually deep underneath that thigh of a mandible.  Hell, we may even know what you had for lunch since it’s caught in that pubic hair you call a beard.

Just do yourself and all of us a favor.  Shave it off. We see right through that gimmick.  And really, it’s ok to be fat.  I for one do not care, and I will not judge you based solely on your weight. Well, unless you can’t see your dick.  If that’s the case, then I won’t lie…I am judging you.  But generally speaking, just embrace your look and be proud of who you are.  But if you can’t and you insist on having a jaw line, hit the gym, not the Mach 3.

If this new genre were a ship, it would be docked at a huge hipster seaport in Brooklyn, NY; And if you had to pick a crew of scallywags to maintain the ships course, that bunch would be Neon Indian, an Austin, TX band who’re proving that Animal Collective and MGMT aren’t the only ones quirky enough for the masses.

Late last year they released their debut album, “Psychic Chasms” and after a few listens through, you can’t help but get excited for their sophomore follow-up.

Seriously, I challenge you to not like this song:

Man In Box is the brainchild of British TV presenter and DJ Tim Shaw and a few of his friends.

The Concept: Tim is locked inside a box that looks to be about 2 feet tall, 7 feet long and maybe 4 feet wide?  Ok, ok the point is…it’s REALLY small.  He will be in the box for 30 days and 30 nights.

He was driven around for 10 hours blindfolded before being put in the box, which is in an secret location.  The only information Tim has of his own whereabouts is that it’s somewhere in the UK he’s been before.

Inside the box with him is around $30k.  Anyone watching, at anytime, can attempt to guess where Tim is by dropping a pin on a Google map and hoping for the best.  Guess correctly, and the red light you see in the box turns green, Tim is immediately let out, and you…win that cold hard cash. Considering you have the entire UK to choose from, it’s nearly impossible to simply guess at his location and expect to be right….and much to Tim’s chagrin…he’s still got 20 days left.

PRESS PLAY ON THE BOX BELOW TO WATCH THE LIVE FEED
If it’s dark…that probably means it’s lights out…so come back later or hit the official site for a 12 hr. delay feed to see what Tim was up to earlier. He’s always trying to come up with hints about his location in hopes that someone might let him free.

You can thank me later for the heads-up on the cameo of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turltes 1 & 3’s Casey Jones.

Seriously. GO. Theater. Now.

In the past we’ve been confused with our identity, but this time around we have decided to throw all of that out the window.

Sit tight and enjoy the ride that is Zubaz.

With that, I leave you with a message from the unofficial ZubazPants.com mascot, Macho Man Randy Savage…