RIP Best Car Ever

Yum

Redshark hunting

It ain't too easy being a young man
Going round in circles, honey, all the time
You've played their game now for so long can't see
What in the world are they trying to do to me?

Sometimes you get that old lost feeling
Sometimes it hits you when you're feeling down
It's that old feeling, honey, brings you down
I say it makes you crawl...

You walk down the main street out in the city
See all the girls now they're so pretty
But all their smiling faces, yeah are gonna pass you by
It don't make no difference no matter how hard you try

Sometimes you get that old lost feeling
Sometimes it hits you when you're feeling down
It's that old feeling, honey, brings you down
I say it makes you crawl...

Ya hangin' 'round in alleys, ya hangin' 'round in bars
Just looking for some fun but you don't get none and there you are...
Looking for some action looking for some fun but you are down in the gutter
And you don't get none, oh no, just nothing left to do at night, yeah

How do you feel now that it's all over
Your games all melted under the sun
Just like a kid, take a trip down to the sea
Stuck out in the middle and there's just nothing left to say

But, sometimes you get that old lost feeling
Sometimes it hits you when you're feeling down
It's that old feeling, honey, brings you down
I say it makes you crawl...

letter 2

We're going to be touring in May 29th through June 3rd up and down California, and maybe we can play a show with you guys during that week. What d'ya think?

Aaron
Dagger van Gogh

Sonny's first fan letter

This is some good stuff. Non pretencious no style slob rocknroll. Do you have a record or a 7-inch? Let me know. Id actually like to order one. My record collection has been kind of on a slow pace latley. Due to the fact Ive been out of a stable job for awhile. So of course what money I do have I spend it on the booze. Yeah, I drink 6 out of 7 days a week and sometimes I cant find my car in the morning. And I also play in a band and were goin to record soon, we're called Bossman and the Bad Habits. -Scooter

BLACKOUT 2006 BANDS.....so far:

OBLIVIANS (w/Quintron)
DEAD MOON
CHEATER SLICKS
PERSUADERS
CLONE DEFECTS
FLAKES
MIRRORS (Greg Ashley)
MULLENS
MIND CONTROLS
MARKED MEN
ANGRY ANGLES
LIVEFASTDIE
DEMONS CLAWS
CUTS
DUTCH MASTERS
TIME FLYS
JENNY JEANS
COCOCOMA
KRUNCHIES
MANDY & THE TWINS
+ a couple more TBA

DATES:
MAY 24TH, 25TH, 26TH, & 27TH

Pass the Hat
I'm taking up a collection to aid in the cost recovery of transcribing Tuna's 1:30 am voice mail message to me. He is on Sunset Blvd. in Hollywood and very drunk and entertaining. Donations are non-refundable.

Notes From The Underground

Is there a better scene spot than Mama Buzz?
Are pretty girls with pretty singing voices unattainable?
Procreation: better with a 20 year old or a 30 year old?
Should a self diagnosis of bi-polar disorder take into account the records one listens to?
Will Jason Pierce take my phone calls?
Is a Sunday coffee date with the round faced barmaid a lame effort or a cool first move?
How can one have so much fun and be so broke?
Girls send the darndest messages, don’t they?
Is there a better song than the Brainbombs’ Driving Through Leeds?
Is Michael Caine good looking?
Are the Ides of March a drinking day?
Isn’t it great when a bartender at the Stork thinks he knows you and spots you Buds?
What’s the point of fixing my brakes if I’m going full speed ahead?
When are we going to the lake?
Can we get more famous online than we could have in the real world?
Should I care that I’m almost at a half-pack a day habit?
Anyone want action on Terrence Howard as best actor winner?
It’s hard out there for a pimp, isn’t it?
When death comes, do I tip?
Why does soulseek consume my alone hours?
What am I gonna do with an iPod?
What’s a line to make time with a girl on a date with another guy?
Can I say I am ex-Spacemen if I prefer Spiritualized?
When are Crooked Fingers coming to town?
Should I fret that Joss and the girl are possibly meeting up in WA in April?
When can I take baby girl to the park and make like I’m a caring sitter?
Will Tuna return to NY victorious?
Are bangs on a woman the sexiest hairstyle ever?
Are photos of Francoise Hardy an instant erection for every male?
Are the 10 jazz records downloaded over the weekend a cry for help?
Will Steve Earle make me a bitter drunk?
What’s the best way to tell a girl that seeing other people is part of dating?
Anyone had the catfish at Popeye’s?
Are there girls in hell?

RIP Don Knotts, Darren McGavin: pick the third celeb now!

(21:11) [babbster] ATTENTION. YOU CAN ONLY TAKE 25 OF MY SONGS AT A TIME. reduce the number of songs you want NOW
[drdabrasha] what's the problem? take what you want from me, man
(21:12) [babbster] you can only take 25 songs of mine at a time
[drdabrasha] it's called a file sharing service. why put restrictions? i've got box sets with 100+ songs. not polite to limit
(21:13) [babbster] my limit is 25 songs
[drdabrasha] you shouldn't be on here then. limit is the same as not sharing
(21:14) [babbster] everybody in soulseek sets limits
(21:15) [babbster] you are not sharing your files either. computer say "waiting" for last tne minutes
(21:15) [babbster] if you change your mind, contact me. you're banned
[drdabrasha] oh, that's a firewall thing. if you do a room search you can get everything. i'm ususally in the garagepunk room
[drdabrasha] you're a cunt

I have graded 30 essays, drank Metrex energy drinks, read the newspaper, watched Monty Python and the Holy Grail, finished watching Gattaca, listened to Wire, Steve Earle, the Dwarves, and a lecture on the early Christians between Paul and Constantine, and pondered my eternal soul. It is now 10:40 in the morning. I think I'll go to McCovey's for lunch and eat chicken. I am Lord of Industry. Bow before my production!

DOLLAR RECORD RECORDS SHOWCASE PARTY!!!
Friday Feb 24th, 9pm
Elbo Room, San Francisco
Sonic Love Affair
The Flakes
Nagg
The Salem Lights
w/ DJ's Major Sean, Jodie Artichoke, Dug, and Carlos P.
(Diabolik, Pussy Plays, UFO West, Cotton Candy, etc)

The Newest Faces of Middle East Diplomacy

I gave up today on a novel 2/3 of the way through it, which may be the longest I've gone without finishing. It was good for eighty pages, and then she delivered 120 more that were exactly the same. The novel was Bel Canto, a Pen/Faulkner award winner, which means next to nothing these days, given the political bent of most judges and the sheer number of awards in an arts "culture" that can't go to lunch without celebrating itself. I mean, why eat if nobody gets an award?

To overcompensate for quitting, I started William Gass' The Tunnel, a 650 page behemoth that has been taunting me from the shelf for several years and has been described as bitter, bilious, racist, mean-spirited and bursting with self-loathing. I've no idea why it would appeal to me. I bring all this up to let you know that I will be immersed in literary spite for some time. I cannot be held responsible for anything I say, write or do during that stretch. I am middle-aged, but still easily influenced. This is the project I've needed. Encourage me. I'm headed into the sewer- can't wait to see if the sun still glistens when I pull my head up out of the slime.

Randomness on Wednesday

Anyone give two shits about the Olympics? Good, thought not. My great grandfather was Prefect of Torino, but that's so distant nostalgia doesn't even kick in. In better news, 2 new Guns and Roses tracks have been leaked and they are very good. I miss Axl. I gotta spend 10 hours in the bruno today. Anyone wanna take my place?

My Citizenship Gift To Harry: Welcome to Marlboro Country!

Married Dudes:

Do you have wifely expectations?

Just curious,

Dr. D

We watched The Forty Year Old Virgin the other night and were decidedly underwhelmed- it was still funnier than Wedding Crashers, which is only to say that it generated a couple of guffaws from my gaping mouth instead of simply contempt. The Virgin ends with the celebration of our middle-aged hero’s popped cheery in several dance sequences played out to The Age of Aquarius from the Hair Soundtrack, one of three records in my house as a child that were not Christmas carols, the other being The Love Songs of Perry Como and The Best of Roger Miller, so dang me. I’ve always loved the Hair soundtrack, closet hippy that I most affectionately am, so the next morning, I blasted it into our breakfast kitchen so that Lucas and Lars and I could do the freeze dance to the glorious tunes, and I promise I did not flinch when lyrics such as “Black boys are delicious” “sodomy...fellatio.. cunnilingus” and “I’m a colored spade, a nigger, a black nigger, a jungle bunny,” because when Lucas synchronistically yelled ‘freeze’ right before the part when some smelly hippy boy screams “Spaghetti” at the climactic moment of the title track, it was the height of my parenting career, desperately trying to balance on one leg in the frozen funky dance position but falling like pisa into the garbage can as Lars screamed with delight, “I win.” Indeed. Rock the hippy on, motherfucker.

YAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWNNNNNNNN
NNNNNNNNNNNzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzZzzzz

This song just kills me. I love this record.

Though I have a broken heart
I'm too busy to be heartbroken
There's a lot of things that need to be done
Lord I have a broken heart

Though I have a broken dream
I'm too busy to be dreaming of you
There's a lot of things that I gotta do
Lord I have a broken dream

And I'm wasted all the time
I've gotta drink you right off of my mind
I've been told that this will heal given time
Lord I have a broken heart

And I'm crying all the time
I have to keep it covered up with a smile
And I'll keep on moving on for a while
Lord I have a broken heart

Best meal ever

What song was number one when you turned eighteen?
http://www.thisdayinmusic.com/member/birthdayno1.php

'Physical' by Olivia Newton-John

I rule

RIP Al Neri

Oprah Winfrey:

Your involvement in the saga of James Frey has entangled me in personal confrontations. I am known as a reader among my circle, and over the last week I have been accosted at parties and gatherings and asked for my opinions. I politely begged off, knowing little of your program besides the generalizations gleaned from other media and a girlfriend who watches you when she should be working. I make excuses when the subject is breeched, for I have not read Frey’s book, nor do I care for literary spats that do not involve two writers pissing on one another in print.

The weekend has passed and I write to you having reflected on the situation. I have read the news accounts, I have read the transcripts. I have read the arc, and I have talked with those more knowledgeable of you and your program. I believe I have an understanding of the current situation, and I have wracked my terrible brain for memory of the incident four years ago when your name first came to my attention regarding literature.

I read Jonathan Franzen early in his career. The Twenty-Seventh City was a mind blowing book by a young author that got me to rethink modern American prose. City was huge effort of shenanigans and intrigue in modern day St. Louis, a city I could give a shit for prior to my encounter. City doesn’t hold up, but I was a committed Franzen junkie, for his second book, Strong Motion, was better and does sustain. That book gave me an urge for more Franzen books, and I had to put up with pedestrian though entertaining non-fiction of his in the New Yorker and Harper’s as I waited for more.

I purchased The Corrections months before its release. The advance copy was read over a weekend, and I was floored by its merit. For years I bought copies of City and Motion for friends and the response was lukewarm. I lent Corrections when I finished it, and men and women with stacks on their nightstands obliged me with that look of uneasy trepidation in their eyes, like one sees in a husband when told a mother in law is coming for an extended visit.

I was rewarded for my tenacity. Phone calls came at and after the breakdown hours of the evening, praising the book. I can’t believe how great this is; I’m reading it aloud to my wife; Amazing; etc., were along the lines of comments received. That book made me a seer of sorts in my pond, and I was a happy fish. Author worship is a foolish endeavor, but love of singular books is not. It was shortly after the book dropped on the public that both you and I learned this lesson.

Franzen’s renunciation of your endorsement was odd, and though I first empathized with him, I soon came to the conclusion that he was terribly ungracious. It was a shit move on his part. He was out of line and classes, his bravado more jejune than apt. Later on he offered his remorse, and your handling of the situation was humbling. You were courteous handling the slight. You took the high road and you rode it well. Your humanity was noble. You were noble.

Years passed and you selected a book by James Frey entitled A Million Little Pieces. You had Frey on your program and you praised him, and your audience praised him, and copies of his book sold well. Revelations broke that Frey misled readers, and at first you stood by him. You said something to the effect that Frey’s story still had meaning to you, and that is what counted.

Now you have reversed yourself. You have publicly chastised Frey for his shortcomings, and you have stated your remorse for defending him. I find your current actions deplorable.

You have chosen to demonize a book and an author you obviously care for because lonely housewives posted faux outrage on your message board, and a couple of jaded columnists have written critical of you. You had been accused of high crimes for your failure to admonish Frey and his book for its lack of truth. Since when has love of anything and the truth mattered at all?

True readers love books. They love everything about them, even their flaws. I am lucky enough to know a couple people who read well and often, and we can spar for hours over books we care for. The debate rarely contains words like Truth or Honesty.

You now have turned on both Frey and his book. Your comments and your about face have placated your followers. But what of you? What of your love for Frey’s book and story? I doubt that has changed; it doesn’t change if what you initially said was true.

I despise your actions. How strange of you to call out Frey and lambaste him, his publisher, and his talent (you judged his talent; you saw it had merit). The pandering to your in-studio crowd and couch-bound underemployed is beyond reproach. You want me to believe you are coming clean and telling the world how you feel? I don’t believe a fucking thing you say.

I’ve read thousands of books. Perhaps fifty matter to me. I’ve enjoyed many, hated a few, and most have left me flat. New books are a gamble readers take, and we at times rely on others for suggestions. Again, I’m lucky to know readers. Most aren’t, but one who watches your program does so for possibly the same reason one goes out into the world to gather with people; knowledge is social. I transmit the little I know to a good group of guys and dolls and we share. You have a different medium, powerful, but somewhat bleak for a jackass like me who doesn’t get the appeal. You share what you know to influence and affect. I supposed I do too, and when I am asked to reverse myself, when I am called on something by a friend’s influence and then investigate it, I take that with me, but never does it shake me from beliefs in art I enjoy.

An author mining his own or others experiences commits to paper ideas and circumstances that have nothing to do with the truth. This doesn’t mean non-fiction is lies, it simply means that any record that is not real time experience between parties present is bullshit. If it is well written, if it is entertaining, then readers benefit. There is a reason no non-fiction book on the 1920’s matters as much as The Great Gatsby and the reason is Fitzgerald was and always will be better than anyone writing of that time. Prose trumps truth.

Memoir, some say, is different. But it isn’t. Libraries and chain bookstores have divisions of books, NF, F, BIO, etc.. But the shops worth their salt put it all under literature; all that makes that grade, that is. Memoir is stylized bullshit. It is a modern phenomenon that youngish types who have done nothing but survived into their thirties write these books. Of course their stories are brazen and hyper; young men and women don’t have the experience to write of a noble life. They have what is considered market ready tales: my father died, my mother died, I drank when I was young, I was a lesbian, I sucked the president’s cock, I slept with my therapist, I was quirky, I never fit in, I was teased in gym class, my home was broken, I took drugs and had sex and drank and slept with a therapist who was really a man dressed as a woman who wrote criticism for the NY Review of Books. That’s what sells; that’s the shit memoirs have come to, and that is what you chose to promote. Frey entertained you, and now you want to destroy him.

You had courage sticking up for Frey, courage that you shucked for cheap sentiment, and you take a book and an author down in the process. You think you have come clean, but you aren’t telling the truth even now. I hope you are miserable over this.

Fuck you,

Mike Dabrasha

Oakland

Haloscan commenting and trackback have been added to this blog.

test fucker

Failing to find a book that moves, I stumbled through the house, lost, aimless, drifting, when the mailman came with my latest Crumley, and this is the first line-

When I finally caught up with Abraham Trahearne, he was drinking beer with an alcoholic bulldog named Fireball Roberts in a ramshackle joint outside of Sonoma, California, drinking the heart right out of a fine spring afternoon.

Too first-liney and too many cliches (ramshackle joint, crusty old men with drinking dog buddies), but Sonoma and the last part works. It's a go.

I like to read E.M.Cioran on the can- you can just open up randomly and he always delivers. This morning's musings-

Each of us is born with a share of purity, predestined to be corrupted by our commerce with mankind, by that sin against solitude. For each of us will do anything in order not to be doomed to himself. Our kind is not a fatality but the temptation to fail. Incapable of keeping our hands clean, our hearts undiluted, we soil ourselves upon contact with strange sweats, we wallow- craving for disgust and fervent for pestilence- in the unanimous mind. And when we dream of seas changed into holy water, it is too late to dive into them, and our advanced state of corruption keeps us from drowning there: the world has infested our solitude, upon us the traces of others become indelible.

I stopped by Barclay’s yesterday afternoon for my Holiday Celebration Pre-Toddler Bracer Duo of Imperial pints, when I noticed something- the place is teeming with alchies. The bartender was hammered, literally stumbling and giving folks the wrong beer and grabbing the waitresses’ asses and flying the eyelids half-mast at best. When I noticed the waitress nipping at a half-pint I mentioned that she had that “I need to get the fuck out of here look,” and she replied, “I’ve been sipping these things since 11. I’ve lost count.” It was four o’clock in the afternoon. The guy next to me said he was taking a break from painting houses and was doing a couple of 11 percenters while showing off pictures of his baby girl on his cell, bragging about the 40 beers he and his wife consumed on Valentine’s Day and then showing the bar pictures of said wife breastfeeding the newborn, while bellowing, “Her tits are bigger than the baby’s head,” to which the bespectacled, bearded and long-haired curmudgeon next to him responded, “Fuck babies.” Harry was diddling with a laptop, showing everybody a picture of a giant shark ready to devour an unsuspecting kayaker and cackling with sadistic Aussie glee. I believe the man in the kayak was an Abo. I finished my pint and headed for the door. Nobody noticed.

I love the Brainbombs

Just wanted you all to know this. I can't stop listening to them. There is no more music like this. Why is that? Someone with BB knowledge lay it on me. The web is pretty bankrupt for new info. I think the web is afraid.

Hope you don’t mind
If I just sit here a while
I’ve been off the beaten track
For a long long time
Don’t know if I was misled
Or just got lost
But I know nothing’s ever
Never gonna be OK again no how

‘Cause everything is just closing in
I don’t know that I have one single friend
Not one single friend

My mom thinks I need a religion
I think I need a shower
And something to eat
Can I bum another cigarette
And thanks for the listening to me
You know I don’t like to steal
But I’ve got needs
And I know nothing’s ever
Never gonna be ok again no how

‘Cause everything is just closing in
I don’t know that I have one single friend
Not one single friend
Not one single friend
Not one single friend
Not one single friend

DARK SKIES U.S.A. TOUR
Body: hey-
you guys seem pretty cool. would you be interested in helping us with a show/party in the bay area on 3/23 or 3/24?
thanks,
joe


This came in on mystupid direct to us. What does help mean? get them a gig? Should I send this to silent John?

Some dawn thoughts since the little one is intent on keeping us up all night with strange gurgling sounds that I'm consciously avoiding interpreting-

Mr. Tuna,
According to this week's New Yorker, a magazine I am canceling due to its TOTALLY UNINTERESTING CONTENT, you can relive the glory of your youth in the coming months-

Did you catch EDDIE MONEY live at B.B. King Blues Club and Grill on Feb. 9, and if not, why not? You've got some explaining to do.

To make up for your absence, you can find penance here-
March 16-19 Nokia Theatre Times Square for St. Patrick's Day
THE POGUES (Shane MacGowan is expected- I'll take even money he's a no-show).

Wedding Crashers is astonishingly unfunny, and relentlessly so. Not one laugh in the hour I gave it. Hustle and Flow is next, so Bradley, your film credibility is on the line. I can hear your cybershaking in the void.

I will be THE MAN tonight at a benefit concert for Sudan that the service club I sponsor is putting on for the victims of Sudan. Please pray that no one vomits, soils himself, delivers a blow or blow job, or anything else that would require me to intervene. I am singularly unsuited for the role of authority figure. I will report on my inevitable failings.

Have a nice Saturday cuz the sun is shining. Oops, sorry about that Tuna boy. Hahahahahahahahahahahaha

Top Five Quotes From First Three Chapters of James Crumley's The Wrong Case
5. He fled into a long, down-spiraling drunk, heading West to die in a strange place where he wouldn't shame his family.

4. Get off my ass, old man. Let's get drunk and be somebody.

3. He told me that if I didn't have a job I'd drink myself to death before I really had time to enjoy it.

2. We sipped the drinks as we strolled the forty steps down to Mahoney's, sauntering like lords throught the summer afternoon buzz of shoppers and gaping tourists, down to Mahoney's Bar and Grill, where I had unlimited credit and willing friends, grease to ease the squeaking wheel of a summer afternoon.

1. So what if I was half in the bag, lonesome and dumb with self-pity, left with a life that had become all hangover and no drunk. I wanted to feel human again, and the only way I knew was with a woman, and the only women I knew were gay divorcees, stoned hippie chicks, and tired barmaids whose emotions were as badly mangled as mine, and I wanted more, wanted this squirrelly, oddly virginal English professor from some godamned crossroads in Iowa, wanted her like I hadn't wanted anything in a long time, too long. So I said it again, "My days for your nights."

Life's a Gas

A three hour sushi dinner replete with beer and sake, paid by a vendor: $200
15 minutes of deal making banter where terms like 'paradigm' and 'exclusivity' are used freely: $500,000 (possible upside)
Going to the beach on a Thrusday afternoon in February to stare at girls and dry out: Priceless

I played hookie yesterday, kept the boys home from school and had a barbecue. Here's a picture.

THOSE BORN BEFORE 1980

According to today's regulators and bureaucrats, those of us who were kids in the 60's and 70's probably shouldn't have survived, because our baby cots were covered with brightly coloured lead-based paint which was promptly chewed and licked. We had no childproof lids on medicine bottles, or latches on doors or cabinets and it was fine to play with pans.

When we rode our bikes, we wore no helmets, just flip-flops and fluorescent 'spokey dokey's' on our wheels. As children, we would ride in cars with no seat belts or airbags - riding in the front passenger seat was a treat.

We drank water from the garden hose and not from a bottle and it tasted the same.

We ate chips/fries, stodgy puddings and drank fizzy juice with sugar in it, but we were never overweight because we were always outside playing.

We shared one drink with four friends, from one bottle or can and
no-one actually died from this.

We would spend hours building go-carts out of scraps and then went top speed down the hill, only to find out we forgot the brakes. After running into stinging nettles a few times, we learned to solve the problem.

We would leave home in the morning and could play all day, as long as we were back before it got dark. No one was able to reach us and no one minded.

We did not have Playstations or X-Boxes, no video games at all. No 99 channels on TV, no videotape movies, no surround sound, no mobile phones, no personal computers, no DVDs, no Internet chat rooms.

We had friends - we went outside and found them.

We played ball games, and sometimes that ball really hurt!

We fell out of trees, got cut, and broke bones but there were no law suits.

We had full on fist fights but no prosecution followed from other parents.

We played chap-the-door-run-away and were actually terrified of the owners catching us.

We walked to friends' homes. We also, believe it or not, WALKED to school; we didn't rely on mummy or daddy to drive us to school, which was just round the corner.

We made up games with sticks and tennis balls.

We rode bikes in packs of 7 and wore our coats by only the hood, even in winter.

The idea of a parent bailing us out if we broke a law was unheard of...They actually sided with the law.

This generation has produced some of the best risk-takers and problem solvers and inventors, ever. The past 50 years have been an explosion of innovation and new ideas. We had freedom, failure, success and responsibility, and we learned how to deal with it all.



For those born AFTER 1980




You are all wimps, or at least the system turned you into wimps

Stop Fighting 'Em- You Know They're Right

The Dr.'s First Oceanic Fish (or, mother has figured out how to work her scanner after 3 long years of hints and instruction)

Poll: Deadwood novel suitable for mothers?

[ ] Yes

[ ] No

My old man finished Deadwood and loved it. Wants to pass it to mother to read. Mother didn't speak to me for months after I bestowed an X-mas gift copy of the Corrections, telling her it was like our family. I'm leaning toward an intervention.

Must read

A link worth your time. Salut, sonny house!

For Tuna
Here are some records you might like, with heavy emphasis on might-

Elton Motello- ignore the lyrics and get on board, sir

Reigning Sound- Home For Orphans- the best songwriter in the land will make you weep

Anteenagers MC- Frenchies going primitive

Blank Its- rythmic voodoo punk ass shit

Crash Normal- French art-trash that wins

Gris Gris- psych, so dabble

Human Eye- hard, dark, psych and so right

Kajun SS- hate

The Pack- best stupid trash from Germans

Spaceshits- Misbehavin- real rock from Canada

Victims- perfect punk from Aussie land

He's Back (or, I love Myspace for the real artists/producers who are on it!)

Hi Brad,

Yeah Bob is working on a new solo album, coming out on Lakeshore Records in a couple months. A lot of covers & special guests...it's tentatively titled "Wednesday" and is envisioned be the first in a series of 7 records...you can guess what the other 6 are called.

Is anybody paying attention to Kenny Boy's trial? Remember when everyone predicted that no one from Enron would serve a day in jail? Andy Fastow is already there, and now Lay and Skilling look to be in fairly big trouble. Wasn't this the biggest business scandal since the Teapot Dome? Shouldn't there be some kind of party in honor of this trial? Must I host again?