So, my dog MacDuff (aka Duffer, Duffly, or any other permutation you can think of), passed away this morning. He had a good long life, didn’t suffer, and was surrounded by family when he finally bid us all adieu. For a dog with such a big heart, it seems right that it was his heart that wore out first. He ran that sucker at full tilt for ten years, and I guess he got everything out of it he could.

I rarely post anything personal on this site (uncomfortable as I am with what you might call “human emotion”), but I thought I’d put up a few words of tribute to the old guy.  There was so much to love about MacDuff – his affection for every single person everywhere, his ability to give high-fives, his abiding gentleness. But today, I’m especially grateful for the lessons he taught me. The most important one was this: live your life completely attentive and open to the people that you care about most. I’m not sure if MacDuff was a big-picture kind of guy, but he knew what was important and never lost sight of it. Not during thunderstorms, not while  barking at nothing in the back yard, not even while eating. And he liked to eat. As someone given to bouts of cynicism and self absorption, this is something I need to remember. So, thanks for that, buddy. Thanks for everything, really.

And in case I didn’t tell you enough: you’re a good boy, MacDuff. I’ll miss you.

“God bless you boys. I’m praying for you. Good luck out there.”

This struck me as the kind of thing you say to a soldier going into combat, and the kind of thing said by a very frightened person. So why was this women so scared?

Presumably, she has subscribed to the widely held belief that this weekend’s G20 summit will somehow unleash biblical levels of destruction across the GTA. You know, fire and brimstone coming down from the skies! Rivers and seas boiling! Forty years of darkness! Earthquakes, volcanoes…The dead rising from the grave! Human sacrifice, dogs and cats living together… mass hysteria!* This belief is, of course, somewhat  irrational (except, apparently, the bit about earthquakes).

Here’s what will happen this weekend: roads will be closed. There will a lot of people angry about something, and telling us all about it. There will be some property crime and/or civil unrest. The downtown will be deserted. Essentially, this is an average summer weekend in Toronto turned up by about 15 per cent. Even if things do go seriously pear-shaped, the damage will be cleaned up, we’ll all have a good think about what happened, and things will go almost immediately back to normal. We even have some helpful historical examples to guide our prognostication, all of which speak to the negligible effects of having the G20 come to your town:

• Washington, DC, USA (2008): Still Standing
• London, England (2009): Still Standing
• Pittsburgh, USA (2009): Still standing, also still has awesome football team

So there you go. I will 100 per cent guarantee that Toronto will still be here post-conference. Nevertheless, people seem very worried. Why is that exactly? These facts are all easy to perceive, so something must be clouding our reason.

I blame the media.

Scoring points off of the clowning band of hucksters we rely on for information is pretty damn easy, true. But I think the media really does deserve to be slapped around for this one. On a wide variety of issues – from terrorism to Swine Flu – our beloved fourth estate provides coverage that’s less the “Here are some facts for you to consider” variety and more the “DEAR GOD WE’RE ALL GOING TO DIE EVERYBODY PANIC” type that really makes our public discourse pop with nonsense. There’s a well-traveled theory that media ‘primes’ the public, or frame what we think is important, and how we think about those important things. The media has uniformly portrayed G20 (and WTO, and IMF, and World Bank, and all other such events) as violent clashes between thuggish police and dangerous extremists. This primes everyone: police assume it’s their job to drop the hammer. Protesters assume it’s their job to be violent. And we assume we should all be very scared and get the hell out of dodge. The media has presented us with a picture of what  this event is going to look like, and we’re all keen to play our assigned parts.

There are a lot of legitimate issues around the conference. Why does it cost so much? Where do we draw the line between civil liberties and public safety? Why are these people protesting? Why don’t the G20 leaders care? But we can’t have a serious debate about any of these things if we’re frightened.

So, old lady crossing the street, don’t be scared. Everything is going to fine. This weekend will come and go, maybe with a few more headlines than normal. But we’ll all still be here on Monday.

*Ghostbusters is pretty much the best movie ever.

The Oughts

The only thing harder than cataloguing your favourite music is writing an introduction to a catalogue of your favourite music. According to iTunes, I have almost 800 albums from the period between 2000 and 2009. That’s not almost 800 complete albums, but it means I have at least one song from that many — and in many cases, many more. This is by no means meant to comprehensive, exhaustive or otherwise complete. In fact, I’m sure I’ve forgotten something. And were I to make this list again in a month (or even a week), it would probably be different. Nevertheless, here are 50 of my favourite albums since 2000:

Alexisonfire | Crisis (2006)
It’s amazing to me how seamlessly this band blends soaring, beautiful melodies with desperate, screaming vocals. Or maybe it’s not seamless at all. Maybe it’s the harsh juxtaposition that makes it work. It’s also amazing that I couldn’t get into it at all at first, but now it’s a staple from the last decade.

…And You Will Know Us By the Trail of Dead | Worlds Apart (2005)
The title track begins, “Random lost souls have asked me, ‘What’s the future of rock ’n’ roll?’ I say, ‘I don’t know, does it matter?’ This and that scene, they sound all the same to me, neither much worse nor much better.” This might not be the future of (alt-prog-art) rock, but it’s certainly a welcome evolution. Powerful.

The Aquabats! | Charge! (2005)
Costumed poppy punk rock (is that even a genre? Sure, why not) at its fun, energetic, campy best. Every song title ends with an exclamation point. I find it hard to listen to this album and not smile.

The Avalanches | Since I Left You (2000)
This album is pure, laid-back summer joy. Given how sample heavy it is (it allegedly contains over 3,500), it’s hard to imagine it even being possible today, which is exactly why they haven’t managed to release a follow-up to this day, some 10 years later.

Badly Drawn Boy | About a Boy (2002)
This is actually a soundtrack, but it’s also Badly Drawn Boy’s best album. Everything just seems to click from one song to the next, be it the shuffling groove of “A Peak You Reach,” the orchestral magic of “I Love N.Y.E.” or the bouncy, retro charm of “Donna and Blitzen,” a modern Christmas classic.

Band of Horses | Everything All the Time (2006)
This is just beautiful songwriting. Every song sounds massive in scope, but grounded in authenticity at the same time. The band also has one of the more distinctive-sounding vocalists around, who cuts through the layered arrangements without being piercing.

The Bird and the Bee | Ray Guns Are Not Just the Future (2009)
Childlike vulnerability marks singer Inara George’s vocals, which makes the naughty lyrics in “Polite Dance Song” all the more naughty— but delightfully so. It’s light and fluffy electronica-tinged pop, with just a hint of menace creeping in at the edges.

Blur | Think Tank (2003)
I was pretty disappointed with Blur’s last album when I first heard it, but it really ended up growing on me. It’s totally uneven, but in the end, that’s why I love it, as it blends raw punk guitars, world music elements, electronic beats and the last vestiges of Britpop. And “Battery In Your Leg,” the final song the group recorded together (at least at the time), is about as fine a swan song as you could ask for.

Brand New | Deja Entendu (2003)
This is basically an emo album, but it’s darker, deeper, more thoughtful and more musically and lyrically daring than that label has come to suggest. It’s probably in my top five albums of the decade and features two of my favourite songs from the same period: “Sic Transit Gloria … Glory Fades” and “Play Crack the Sky.”

The Cardigans | Long Gone Before Daylight (2003)
This is not the album I was expecting from the Cardigans after Gran Turismo. It’s quiet, dark, country-influenced and caught me totally by surprise. Every time I listen to it I want to share it with someone. So someone, here you go.

Čechomor & Jaz Coleman | Proměny (2001)
OK, so this is an orchestral folk album by a once-obscure Czech folk group and the singer from Killing Joke (who once threatened me to not mention the giant doob he was smoking while I interviewed him, but that’s another story). The result is lush and ethereal.

Chore | The Coastline Fire (2002)
There’s some Tool in there, and some weird mathy time signatures (is that 11/4 on “Electrojet?”) and changes. It’s dissonant, then melodic. Loud and angry, then soft and delicate. And it’s too bad this Hamilton band isn’t around anymore. At least we have Don Vail to make up for it (see below).

The Cool Kids | The Bake Sale (2008)
The best old school ’80s hip-hop ever made by two guys who weren’t even alive in the ’80s. That about covers that.

The Cure | Bloodflowers (2000)
Lingering is probably the best way to describe this album, the third in a trilogy (with Pornography and Disintergation before it). Except for one song clocking in at 3:43, there’s nothing shorter than five minutes here, with one track even topping 11 minutes. And while it’s not the Cure at its prime, it is the Cure at its still-pretty-frickin’-amazing.

The Decemberists | The Hazards of Love (2009)
Basically your garden variety ’70s-inspired folk-rock opera about shape-shifting, impregnation and filicide. And it’s a love story, of course, full of the kind of hyper-literate lyrics and meticulous songcraft you’d expect from the Decemberists.

Don Vail | Don Vail (2008)
Bill Priddle left Treble Charger because he felt they turned away from indie rock to corporate pop punk and that just wasn’t his scene, man. This is one of his recent endeavours, featuring him and three members of Chore (see above). It’s not as aggressive as Chore, but still plenty complex, now augmented by some rich jazz chords.

Enon | High Society (2002)
Messy, fuzzy and quirky. When I listen to this, I picture a future version of Tokyo that’s all cut-out shapes and vibrant colours. That’s probably not going to help you figure out what it sounds like, but I’m not sure anything I can say will.

The Fireman | Electric Arguments (2008)
I’ll admit that I haven’t listened to too much of Paul McCartney’s post-Bealtes output, but this is the best of what I’ve heard. It’s his third collaboration with producer Flood under the Fireman moniker, and while the first two were more sonically experimental, this is relatively straightforward, structurally, but no less remarkable for it.

The Frames | Set List (2003)
If you don’t own any Frames albums or haven’t seen them live, this will be a hard sell (and in that case I’d recommend For the Birds as a way in). But as good as the albums are, the Frames is a live band; that’s where they really shine. Glen Hansard is as compelling and charismatic a storyteller as I’ve ever seen. I get chills every time I hear “Fitzcarraldo,” one of my all-time favourite songs.

The Gaslight Anthem | The ’59 Sound (2008)
This is the best punk album Bruce Springsteen never made — and I don’t even like Springsteen. It’s full of raw emotion and honest, human stories of love, loss, the past and the future. If that makes it sound formulaic or in any way generic, rest assured it is anything but.

The Go! Team | Thunder, Lighting, Strike (2004)
I guess I’m just a sucker for exclamation points. I’m also a sucker for jaunty, catchy electronica that sounds like it comes from an alternate universe Sesame Street. I bet the coolest kids in the world skip rope to these songs. Or they just get high behind the portable listening to them. Hey, at least they’re listening to good music.

Grandaddy | The Sophtware Slump (2000)
This album will break your heart. It’s about nature and technology and how we mix and reconcile the two. It’s more pessimistic than I usually like when it comes to subjects like these, but it’s also hauntingly beautiful, both musically and lyrically. They build a robot, it dies, they find some poems it wrote and one of them becomes a song. Yeah, that sad.

Groove Armada | Goodbye Country (Hello Nightclub) (2001)
Groove Armada pretty much provided the soundtrack for a big portion of our time in Prague, so nostalgia plays a big part in this pick. Still, I have yet to hear a better chill, organic-sounding electronica album. I only wish “At the River” from 1999’s Vertigo were on this album; then it would be perfect.

IAMX | Kiss + Swallow (2004)
The bad news is we’re probably not going to get any more Sneaker Pimps albums at this point, but the good news is that Chris Corner is off making IAMX records. This is dirty, theatrical and industrial, all wrapped in a new wave bow. And it only narrowly edged out The Alternative, IAMX’s second offering.

Incubus | Morning View (2001)
This is before Incubus got all political, angry and, well, sucky. It’s 13 tracks of energy, hope and positivity. It’s telling anyone who’s trying to bring you down to piss off. It’s standing on the edge of a cliff and screaming at the world to bring it on. That might sound lame, but it’s rare in rock music and therefore thoroughly welcome.

Interpol | Turn On the Bright Lights (2002)
The second I heard “PDA” I was hooked. It’s dark, textured and layered. Every instrument — including voice — has a place, a role to play. Take any one away and it would all start to fall down. And that about sums up the album as a whole, too.

The Killers | Hot Fuss (2004)
I tried to love Sam’s Town. Then I tried to at least like it. I even defended it to people. But in the end, I just couldn’t do it. At least I’ve still got Hot Fuss, the driving new wave mini masterpiece that it is. (Pro tip: Get the deluxe edition for “Glamorous Indie Rock & Roll,” which really should have made the main cut.)

Mew | No More Stories Are Told Today I’m Sorry They Washed Away No More Stories the World is Grey I’m Tired Let’s Wash Away (2009)
I could just as easily have put And the Glass Handed Kites on this list, but the newer, weirder, longer-titled No More Stories… won out. They’re Danish; carried by soaring, ethereal vocals; and they love to play with weird timings. Oh, and the last song on the album is just the first song played backwards. Really.

Minus the Bear | They Make Beer Commercials Like This (2004)
A lot of these bands I love because there’s nothing else in my library that sounds like them — ie. Mew, Wax Fang — and that’s definitely the case with Minus the Bear. It’s meticulous alt-prog-math-rock by way of pop with awesome song titles (“Houston, We Have Uh-Oh”). This is just an EP, but it’s even better than Planet of Ice, my favourite full album of theirs (at least until the new one comes out in early May).

Muse | Origin of Symmetry (2001)
Especially earlier in their career, Muse was often compared to Radiohead, which I think is lazy and does a disservice to both bands. I think this a near-perfect album, the kind some bands can only hope to achieve on their greatest hits package. If the only good thing about moving to Prague had been discovering Muse — and it wasn’t, by far — it would have been worth it.

The National | Boxer (2007)
As guitarist Aaron Dessner says so casually about the album’s opening track, “Fake Empire,” “it’s based on a polyrhythm, four over three.” Yeah, sure, of course it is. But that’s the National in a nutshell: Complex rhythms and song structures that come so naturally to them you might not even realize they’re complex until you start to deconstruct them. One of the best albums of the decade.

The New Pornographers | Twin Cinema (2005)
I briefly struggled with including this album because it features two songs I truly can’t stand — “Falling Through Your Clothes” and “Broken Beads” — but then I remembered “Three or Four,” “These Are the Fables,” “Sing Me Spanish Techno,” et al. To me, there’s something quintessentially, yet completely intangibly Canadian about this band and here they are at their best.

Nine Inch Nails | With Teeth (2005)
I was happy for Trent Reznor when he got clean, but I’ll be honest, I was worried about what it meant for his creative output. This album set me straight. It’s is as raw, emotional and fierce as anything he’s ever done. And it gave us “Every Day Is Exactly the Same” and — the surprisingly upbeat and disco-infused — “Only,” two of my favourite Nine Inch Nails tracks, full stop.

The Postal Service | Give Up (2003)
A perfect little gem of an electronic album. It came out of nowhere and blew a lot of people away, myself included. Sometimes I wish they’d record a follow-up, but other times I think it’s better left this way, with nothing to compare it to, for better or worse.

The Raveonettes | Pretty in Black (2005)
Here I chose an album over an EP. Whip It On, the band’s first release, is an 8-song, 20-minute assault of fuzzed-out guitars (and it rules), but Pretty in Black is a much more diverse offering, though still firmly rooted in gritty, ’60s-inspired, Jesus and Mary Chain rock. David Lynch would approve.

Robbie Williams | Sing When You’re Winning (2000)
I know. I know. The first track is called — unironically — “Let Love Be Your Energy.” What am I thinking? But I just can’t help myself. It’s strong, infectious pop songwriting carried as much by Williams’ voice as his swagger and bravado. Let the judging begin.

Robyn | Robyn (2005)
Yup, same Robyn of late-‘90s “Show Me Love” and “Do You Know (What It Takes)” fame. She’s gone and reinvented herself and is making some of the best, smartest pop around. And if you think pop is a four-letter word, start here.

Rufus Wainwright | Poses (2001)
Rufus Wainwright is modern cabaret and Poses is gritty, playfully depraved and inescapably charming. It’s the kind of album you listen to alone, barefoot, with a bottle of wine and/or alternate vice of choice. Or whenever you’re in the mood to get in touch with your gay, theatrical, singer-songwriter side. So, you know, Wednesdays.

She & Him | Volume One (2008)
Zooey Deschanel is basically a latter-day Patsy Cline, and it’s only fitting that her songs of love and heartbreak are as quirky and irresistible as she is. It’s a good thing, then, that she found M. Ward to help bring her country- and folk-tinged compositions to life.

Silverchair | Diorama (2002)
An epic, symphonic rock album, the grandiose ambition of which is only matched by exquisite execution, this might be my favourite album of the decade. No joke. It’s heavy, complex, beautiful and totally surprising. (And Daniel Johns manages to work the phrase “polystyrene hat” into a song.) It might not be your thing, but if you only know Silverchair from their formative Frogstomp days, give this a serious listen.

Sneaker Pimps | Bloodsport (2002)
First came the Kelli Dayton–fronted incarnation of this band, which helped define the trip-hop genre. Not wanting to be pigeonholed, they dropped Dayton and released two more albums, both darker, more visceral and more organic sounding than the first. Chris Corner is a musical force and was the true soul of this group.

Stirling | Northern Light (2004)
I saw the video for “I Came Late to the Party” on the Wedge one night and was instantly hooked. I’d describe them as a cross between Interpol and Pulp, but as with any comparison like that it only tells part of the story.

The Supermen Lovers | The Player (2002)
I don’t know house music as a genre, but apparently this is it. It’s the kind of funk- and disco-inspired electronica you’d expect from Daft Punk side project — and fellow Frenchmen — Stardust. I probably don’t own anything else like it, but it’s smart, totally danceable and I love it.

Tori Amos | Scarlet’s Walk (2002)
I used to have a huge soft spot for Tori Amos. Like, line-up-all-day-for-tickets soft spot. And while I can’t claim that same level of obsession devotion today, I can’t deny the strength of this cross-country road-trip album. It also had the distinction — thanks to gorgeous “I Can’t See New York” — of being the album I think of when I remember the tragedy of 9/11.

The Veils | Nux Vomica (2006)
The pain and passion of lead singer and songwriter Finn Andrews just drips from his tortured lyrics and strained vocals. He’s like a much darker Rufus Wainwright, a lounge singer from the Black Lodge. I think this is also the only band from New Zealand in my library, which has nothing to do with anything, but I find it interesting.

We Are Scientists | With Love and Squalor (2006)
Fun, fun, fun, fun, fun! The time these guys don’t waste taking themselves too seriously they instead spend writing and recording infectious rock songs with pop hooks. They’re also friends with the Lonely Island guys, so that makes them automatically cool.

Wax Fang | La La Land (2007)
I had to ask Nunc Scio to help me describe these guys. He calls it “progressive rock with a folk sensibility,” which definitely gets… well, at least part of the way there. But it doesn’t really explain the chorus of kazoos. Or why Wax Fang is so awesome. I guess some things just are.

Weezer | Maladroit (2002)
For a long time I mourned the fact that Weezer wasn’t going to make another deeply personal, challenging album in the vein of Pinkerton, but then I heard Maladroit. It’s not as deep or complex, sure, but it’s awesome, riff-heavy hard rock that’s a blast to listen to. Bravo.

Wilco | Sky Blue Sky (2007)
This is a stripped-down, mellow chamber piece of an album. It’s got as much heart as it does clever songwriting. And it’s the sound of a band perfectly meshing in the studio, which is odd given that Wilco used to be more about Jeff Tweedy than a band as a whole.

Young Galaxy | Young Galaxy (2007)
I feel like these guys have been flying just under the radar and have been underappreciated and underrated as a result. On this list, they’re probably most like fellow Canadians the New Pornographers, but they definitely have their own thing going on, too. A rich, emotional debut.

But as much as I hate Ann Coulter, I also love freedom of expression. Which is why I’m so irritated by this whole flap at the University of Ottawa.

In case you missed it, here’s what happened: Ms. Coulter is currently on a speaking tour of three Canadian universities, including the University of Ottawa. On Friday, March 19, the Vice-President Academic and Provost of U of O, Francois Houle,  wrote a letter (read it here) reminding Coulter of Canada’s anti-hate legislation and warning her to be respectful during her speech. This was pretty unusual, and got tongues wagging on both sides of the border. But then, in a truly bizarre move, the university canceled Coulter’s speech last night.  Apparently, it was a “public safety issue”, although I suspect it was more of a case of intellectual cowardice.

Here’s the thing: freedom of speech is important. And it is really important that everyone be afforded this right equally. Canceling a speech because of what someone might say is wrong. If Coulter were to say something hateful enough to trigger Canada’s hate speech laws (legislation which I don’t entirely agree with, but that’s a post for another day), then she should be charged. But the point is that this should happen after her speech, not before.

When people – especially those who oppose Ms. Coulter’s views – let her speak, they actually do themselves a  favour. It gives them insight into the twisted machinations of her brain. I always hate it when, say, a white-power guy is set to speak and everyone shows up and boos him off the stage. Listen to the moron. Learn how his mind works. If you’re serious about engaging in the war of ideas, you should at know your enemy. That’s just good strategy.

Gagging Ann Coulter also shifts the debate into her preferred zone of debate – perpetual victimhood. As soon as her speech was cancelled, the conversation immediately changed from “Are Ann Coulter’s views correct?” to “Is Ann Coulter being persecuted for her views?” The first debate is pretty easy for her opponents to win. The second is almost impossible. The University of Ottawa has done Ms. Coulter a solid by confirming her central speaking point: liberal society – particularly universities – are anti-free speech and discriminate against people with conservative views. People like Coulter can be intellectually defeated (here’s a good example), but you’ve got to have the balls to engage them in open debate. This business just gives Coulter a free pass.

In the end, universities are supposed to be places of debate rife with the conflict of ideas, not bastions of shrinking liberal violets who lack the courage of their own convictions. Let’s fight ignorance with facts, intolerance with reason. Let’s fight out in the open and without fear. And above all, let’s not hide behind our laws and hand our opponents an easy victory.

Why? Because it’s awesome. And that’s not just “I-have-to-say-that-because-I’m-on-the-board” talk. This is a genuinely awesome play. Martin Crimp is one of the UK’s best contemporary playwrights, and the show features a slate of amazing actors and a crackerjack creative team. The City is a dark comedic mystery, and as the Guardian notes, “the brilliance lies in how it allows the audience to create its own story. We emerge deeply disturbed, but aware of a writer in full control of his talent.”

The deets:

Venue:  The Berkeley Street Theatre, Upstairs -  26 Berkeley Street
Opens:  Friday, March 19, 2010
Closes:  Saturday, April 3, 2010
Performances: Monday – Saturday at 8 PM; Saturday at 2 PM
Tickets:  $25 General Admission; $15 S/S/Artists; PWYC Monday

Tickets are available by phone at 416-368-3110, online at www.canstage.com, in person at the Berkeley Street Box Office, or at the door.

Also, if you can get a group together, I can swing you a discount. I have powers.

Thanks to darkchia00 for putting together the clips.

4:52 AM: I think I’m just about done this thing. I’ve lost all ability to judge how good it is. It’s in the director’s hands now. The director’s patient, patient hands.

4:10 AM:

….to Hell.

4:01 AM: Blargh.

3:33 AM: I now have a draft. Let the improvening begin. Look how excited I am:

3:15 AM: A thought occurs: everything I write is garbage.

2:29 AM: I am always impressed by the massive urinal here. A family of vacationing Belgians could live in there for a week if they wanted.

Also, may now be going a little squirrely.

1:41 AM: There was jerky!

12:41 AM: I’ve got about a page and a half now. I only have one actor, so the whole thing is a sort of long monologue. I don’t much envy the poor sod who has to memorize all of the bleating. We’re coming up to the traditional 1AM snack run, so I can get away from this thing for a few minutes. What wonders will I find at the corner store? Do they have jerky? Will it even be open? So many questions.

11:48 PM: We have video!

Note to self: the cradled-laptop shot is not the most flattering.

11:08 PM: I have a title! And a character name! Are they good? Probably not! God, this is fun. All the angst of writing compressed into eight hours.

10:35 PM: It begins. I’ve received my room and actor assignments. I will be writing for the chapel. This is both delicious irony and a happy turn of events, since it can seat a lot of people. I am nothing if not an egoist. For posterity, here’s a picture of my looking happy and caffeinated after completing the obligatory Timmy’s run:

And now, I begin the random stream of consciousness that will loosely resemble a play.

This year, I thought it might be fun to “liveblog” (as the cool kids say) my experience of churning out a play overnight. So, starting here at 10PM, I will be providing real-time updates of my slow slide into madness. Here’s a photo of me taken around 2:30AM last year:

I promise to look even more crazy and less flannel-clad this year.

Plus, it’s an all-girls school, so I’ll also be posting the endlessly amusing things you find stuck to the wall. Here’s an exemplar from last year:

Clumsy renditions of bad teen romance? We got ‘em.

So, tune in here tonight for all sorts of wacky good times. It’ll be totally rad. I promise.

And then I saw the trailer for Suck:

Yes, it will take the combined weight of Dave Foley, Iggy Pop, Alice Cooper, and Henry Rollins (that wig really echoes his Black Flag era Jim Morrison-esque hairstyle) to pull me back to the vampire oeuvre. But just barely. And Moby doesn’t help at all.

It is a bit strange that it’s billed as a “Rock Musical Comedy”, and yet no one appears to actually sing in the trailer. But, you know, Henry Rollins. If I suffered through Wrong Turn 2 for Hank, I’ll put up with this**.

*I have a convoluted theory – cribbed from a variety of sources – that classic movie monsters are metaphors for aspects of humanity we find frightening. Vampires represent our fear of taboo sexuality. Werewolves are all about the terror of our animal selves. Zombies represent the terror of losing the self, of being subsumed into a faceless mass. In this sense, the walking dead are more of a political metaphor than the other two. And yes, thinking about these things is how I spend my time.

**I’m being a bit unfair to WT2 here. While not great, it was one of 2007′s better slasher/gore horror movies, especially considering it was direct-to-video. Also, soundtrack by BSG’s Bear McCreary! There’s a fun fact.