Oh god, that song. Told this story a million times, but the first time I heard this song was during a poker game with my friends. There were like 15 guys there, it was a loud as hell with everyone talking, everyone was totally into the game, and that song brought the entire room to a silent, grinding halt. My first…

They are Long Island. Have fun.

Look at this INSTAGRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGHMMMMMMMMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait a minute here. Listen, if you really feel like your life—either psychologically or medically—might spiral out of control before the next season, clearly this must be addressed. I really implore you to proactively find help if you feel this way—a passive, anonymous suicide note isn't the right…

Bongwater is one of the worst movies—period—I've ever seen. I was seething so badly that I almost ground my teeth into powder as I typed my review for this here years back:

Also from Miami (although not anymore.) It is indeed a very rude city. There's a lot of reasons:

I have a Golden State Warriors shirt with The Warriors spray paint logo. Confuses the shit out of kids at the games.

Well, I'm old as fuck, so we're talking 1980 here. Ditch the skates, and yeah, you pretty much have the pretty boy meathead douchebag look of the day.

My aunt lived across the street from Washington Square Park, and my family would go to visit her doing the summer from about 1977–1982. The park was the most fabulous, crazy place imaginable—it was ALL going on, all day and all night.

If nothing else, you realize that the costuming and landscape in The Warriors wasn't as nearly as unrealistic as you might think.

Hey, we got a bayou here! Don't fuck with eeeet!

The Baseball Furies for their over-the-top aesthetic, but The Punks definitely were the most badass. Possibly because when I was in eighth grade, High School Jocks Who Would Kick Your Ass™ looked JUST LIKE THEM.

(Unfolds the Sacred Newspaper Clipping)

Oh SHIT—it's da LIZZIES!

I agree. She really is a singular guitarist in terms of style and chord changes, but also tunings—some really strange open tuning there, but it really works.

Also a fan: A Tribe Called Quest's Q-Tip.

Speaking of covers, I'm a huge fan of this "Hejira" cover by a band called A Bird That Whistles. I don't anything about them (I think they're Swedish?) and the only reason I even heard this was morbid curiosity after I saw a cover version on Spotify: "Why would anyone try to cover THIS?" But wow, these guys really do…

Hejira is almost too good, in a way. I hate to use this analogy, but it's like LSD: It's an amazing, enlightening experience, but it's so overwhelming and powerful and cathartic and lingering that you can't do it often, if ever again.

Hejira is one of the very few songs I would categorize as transcendent. If you can make it through that song without feeling something profound, you're obviously a replicant and must be destroyed.

"…all while Pastorius noodles away…" Noodles away? NOODLES away? NOODLES AWAY?! ARRRUGHHHH! (Flavawheel restrained as he attempts to stab monitor with a kitchen knife) JACO PASTORIUS DOES NOT NOODLE, AWAY OR OTHERWISE!