When I hear "Always Something There to Remind Me", no matter time nor place, I feel the need to scat bebop the drum part, and my head involuntarily trembles along with it. It looks epileptic, or like I'm being dragged down a flight of stairs and my head is hitting each one on the way down. Though with this huge Irish watermelon I call a head, the damage to the stairs would likely be greater than the pain I would receive. And that would teach the stairs- You never fuck with the Irish. Even the 1/4 Irish. Feel free to pick fight with the English, Polish or Czech part of me though. Those guys are bitches.

I'm home for the giving of Thanks and am sleeping in my parents camper in the driveway. On the one hand, it's nice to have some privacy, but on the other, less frequently used hand, it's not like I can take advantage of the privacy and jack it. This is my parents camper, and in addition to a few Norah Jones cds, their hopes and dreams are also in here, and those aren't in any sort of picture frame that I would be able to flip over while I did my dirty sinful business. So instead, I'm blogging. And reading comic books. And avoiding looking through the booklet on the Norah Jones cd, as I have a thing for girls with dark hair and dark skin. I told her knock it off, but she had to set the rocket off.

As the economy tumbles into oblivion, and people are getting poorer and poorer, eating dirt sandwiches and such, I am experiencing a newfound sense of, well, not exactly wealth, but less poverty. And I'm wondering if I am the universe's doppleganger. Is my wealth and happiness dependent on the rest of the world being poor and sad? And if so, am I the type of superhero who would sacrifice himself for the greater good, or let the rest of you all burn while I roll around naked in a pile of Sacajawea coins? And what does it say about me that I can't hear her name without thinking "Nutsackajawea"? I think I'm willing to be the one that takes it up the keister meester, in exchange for others happiness. I'm just asking for a little patience. Lost Season 4 comes out on DVD in a few weeks. Let me buy that and then I can let things get back to normal.

Sleeping in a camper is not normally a situation in which one will think too heavily on, but I saw the film The Strangers recently, and great caesers ghost, any sound I hear out here has me soiling myself and the bed that my parents sleep in on camping trips. So just slap a pair of nice pink cotton panties on me, because I'm a pussy.

I've seen Iron Man twice and fell asleep both times. But I really think it's a good movie. It's just that both times I've seen it I was severely lacking in sleep. Complete coincidence, though. However, I must say, I do find that Robert Downey Jr. to be a smug son of a bitch. Not as much as Jon Stewart, of course, but douchery can only reach so high.

All of my brothers are deeply involved with and passionate about fantasy football. If you ask me, they should all be playing fantasy heterosexuality. But of course I mean that in the gays are bad people sort of way.

I figured out the perfect way to make Superbad a good movie. Edit out the scenes starting with Jonah Hill getting hit with the car and pick back up with the other scene where Jonah Hill gets hit with a car. Everything before and after those scenes is gold. 45 minutes of gold.

It's all going to be ok, folks. We elected Obama. So soon he'll just feed us all with a few loaves of bread and some fish, and we won't have to worry about anything ever again. Or, possibly, get ready for four years of disappointment and a slew of hippie fucks who will refuse to admit that he hasn't done a damn thing.

That was going to be the end, but I just thought I'd mention how the radio had an 80's trivia question about the Challenger explosion, while "Walk Like an Egyptian" played in the background. That is all.

- Ok, there's something that's been bugging me for a while, and I've meant to write about it, but I usually forget all the good topics I have to write about. All these other blogs? Second rate material. If I used the good stuff, the mere weight of the comedy would cause you all to lose control of your bodily functions, which would be disastrous. So, really, you're welcome. It's because ofmy conscious decisions to do subpar topics that you need only purchase underwear on a "normal" basis. Side note: I don't recall the last time I bought socks or underwear for myself. Or anyone else. My mammy always gets me loads of both for Christmas. Which is not to say that I burn through them at an alarming rate. Just that my mom sleeps better knowing that the boxers I wear reflect well on her child rearing skills. But I still haven't touched on my topic yet, thanks to all this digression.
- When a writer writes a line that inidcates a pause or some sort of confusion on their part, why do they always use "er"? Example: Why is it that blind people can never see, er, understand the point I'm trying to make about taking them to the nude beach? Who the fuck says "er"? I have never been caught in the middle of a sentence and used er to reset the speech pattern in my head. And I have never heard that sound come from anyone else's mouth either. It just seems like a sound that a person would make if they had their jaw wired shut. Um, I can understand that. Um, uh, ooh, any other sound that you might make in the throes of passion, I'll give those to you, but "er"? The only thing er is is a show that should have gotten cancelled about five years back, and that's me being gen-er-ous. Holy shit, my comedy brings kings to their knees!
- There will come a time in your life when you are listening to In Rainbows by Radiohead, and you'll think to yourself, "Is this maybe the best album of their career? Better even than Ok Computer or Kid A?" And the answer is no, it's just because you're listening to it right then. But it's still pretty frakking good.
- In a seemingly vain effort to calm my nerves whilst driving at work, I have been consciously trying to keep my anger in check. I remind myself that I'm not in a hurry, and that it doesn't matter that a drunk guy in an Aeropostale t-shirt is standing in the crosswalk, yelling Dark Knight quotes to his fratty fratty friend friends, who are at the bar that he just staggered out of. It's been working pretty well thus far. The only time in the past two weeks that I have yelled at anyone was last night, on Michigan Avenue, when a cab driver (those lovable assfucks!), who was about five feet in front of me to the left, made a kamikaze move and quickly swerved across two lanes, right in front of me. This caused me to slam on the brakes, skid a bit to the side, and begin sweating due to the sharp rise in my blood pressure. Just so Ahab the Arab could pick up a fare. All things considered, I took it pretty well, meaning that I didn't drag him out through his door window and stomp his head into a paste that resembled the last little bit of milk in a cereal bowl when you've been eating Cocoa Crisps, eventually severing his arm from his body and smashing out his windshield with it. All I did was pull up next to him and scream, "YOU FUCKING JACKASS SONOFABITCH!!" He stared straight ahead like a retard that just shit his pants, with the nervous smile that said he knew he'd done wrong, but was not about to hold up a hand and say "sorry" or "allahu akbar". As I was driving away, my rage had totally subsided and I marvelled at how I only used four words, three of which were curse words, if you spell it like I did above.
- One of the ways in which I control my temper behind the wheel is to think of something nice to say about the person or people that hath offended me. The only rules for this are that my compliments are not allowed to be either sarcastic (towards men): Hey, I really like the way that you're the dumbest fucking person I've ever seen, and I've been to auctions. My other rule is that the compliment can not be sexual in nature towards a woman: Wow, that's a pretty dress, and I would like to tear it off you with my teeth right before we fuck like Aborigines. These two rules are to prevent me from taking the easy way out of saying positive things, but they mostly leave me harping about clothes that people are wearing, so I end up not sounding polite so much as homosexual.
- I have a fear of porta-potties. I hate using them. They are disgusting and frightening. I have an irrational fear that something will pop up out of that blue sludge that they put in them. I know it's not likely, but try telling my brain that. Brainy just don't listen. A porta potty, which, by the way is the stupidest fucking name ever, is basically a toilet that doesn't flush. If you were at a bar, and you went to use the bathroom, but the bartender said, "You shouldn't use that. It's been broken for six months. Doesn't flush", would you just throw caution to the wind and hop skip and jump right on in there? That's sick! Who the hell knows what's been crawling around in there. Plus, it's a toilet out in the open, with a half an inch piece of flimsy plastic separating your call of nature from anyone else's prying eyes. Best case scenario, the creepy guy with his hand down his pants rips the door open and begins violently masturbating. Worst case scenario, a T-rex that has escaped from a highly improbable zoo knocks the door down and eats you. Although that might be a blessing, because with all the embarassment of your public dookage, getting eaten by a creature that's been extinct for millions of years would be a welcome respite.
- I live about two blocks away from a beach of Lake Michigan. I'd never been down there in the near year that I lived in this apartment, but the other night, coming home from work, I didn't feel like going straight home, and just walked down the beach.  My hatred of other people and shirtlessness (my own) has kept me away, but at night, it's really a pretty relaxing place to be. Just the sounds of the waves and the clear night sky. If there are people around at the time, they are few and far between. But tonight I was there, sitting on the rocks, listening to the crashing ripples and pretending not to look at the couple at the far end of the beach that may or may not have been having sex. There were sounds, but it's not like I was going to run over and get a closer look, my shorts down around my ankles, tongue and cock flapping valiantly in the wind as I sprinted towards what I like to call "theater porn." Time passed, and my ass was starting to hurt from the jagged edges of the rock I was sitting on. I stood up and started to walk a bit further down the beach, staying close to the rocks because the rest of the beach was bathed in the lamp of street. I heard a jingle, and I thought my keys had just settled into my pocket. And then, from about five feet away, a homeless man started coughing and hocking and spitting. He was nestled back in the rocks pretty deep, and it was dark, and so was he, which would account for my not knowing he was there until I was more or less right up on him. Needless to say,I was startled. I had clearly been walking right towards him, and I wasn't sure whether my turning and walking away would indicate fear, or disgust, so I stood there momentarily, trying to figure out what to do. He said something in a gruff, accented voice. "Sorry?" I asked, as I am often polite when confronted with strangers. "Go. Away." was his accented restatement. "Will do" was my jovial reply, but I made a point of walking slowly back, as a stubborn and scolded child would do. At first I was a bit pissed, and thought briefly of telling the next cops I saw that a homeless man was threatening me down at the beach, see what a little ass rape would do for that gruff personality. But I decided there was no reason to bring the law into it. I just decided to let it go, and then I went back to my apartment, grabbed my knife and went back to stab the man to death. I buried his body in the sand, though not too deep, so some family is going to have a horrifying day at the beach coming up soon. I kid, of course. In this great big friendly world, with the stars up in the sky, why kill a grumpy homeless beach bum? Other than the sexual pleasure I derive from such acts. Er, I think I've said too much. You see? Er? Doesn't work.

-Tonight, while walking home, I saw a car with a bumper sticker on it. This is not unusual in and of itself, but the bumper sticker read "Just give me Jesus." I tend to sneer at these tailgate declarations of faith nowadays, but only because I used to have Jesusy bumper stickers myself, acts which now embarass me. And rather than keep my hatred self contained, I put it out on others who now make the same decisions that I once made. Mostly, it's harmless, because I don't tell them how I feel, and I find that misplaced rage is usually the best feeling. It allows you to let out your anger without actually havng to deal with what makes you angry. Healthy? No, but, really, what is nowadays? Have you read the papers lately? Air and water are bad for you. Two of the very few things on this planet that we need to actually survive, and the air and water that we get is bad for us. But I digress. Mostly, I just thought of the words "JUST GIVE ME JESUS." This is usually to be accompanied by a picture of a dove or rays of sunshine. Honestly, a rainbow would make good sense, but those goofy homosexuals already beat the religious to the punch on that one. Just give me Jesus sounds like the demand of a crazed militant that has taken hostages. A better bumper sticker would read, "Just give me Jesus, or one hostage gets executed every hour." And Jesus would totally give himself up in exchange for hostages. It's pretty much his main claim on his resume. But what the hostage wouldn't know was that Jesus was actually carrying a pistol inside a hollowed out Bible that he brought with him. Because this Christ already died for our sins, and now, it's our turn! I should write action movies. Horribly blasphemous action movies that would have more protestors than ticket buyers.

- I, much like the famed lesbians of yesteryear, have decided to cut meat from my eating habits. The reasons why are threefold: Weight loss, environmentalism, and sheer curiosity. As soon as I made the decision to try the lifestlye, I made a second instant decision to not be one of those douchebags that complains when other people eat meat. With twenty nine meat eating years under my belt, both literally and figuratively, I would feel stupid even trying to convince others. Plus, this is just as likely to last a week as it is the rest of my life, and then I'll feel like I did when I realized I'd spent the past three years of my life warning people that Christ was coming back. Still waiting on that one. Guess he got stuck in traffic. It sometimes takes me upwards of an hour to decide what movie I feel like watching when I get home, so my lectures on what other people should and should not do need to be non-existent. Having said that, allow me to bitch about what other people should be doing differently with their lives.

- The Village is a truly underappreciated movie. But more on that later. (That is what we in the Biz like to call a "teaser." And by the Biz, I mean people that went to college for writing television and now work at UPS, driving around hating foreign people because they drive cabs, and white people because they just now decided to root for the Cubs, while the rest of us have been sticking around for decades, getting so used to the taste of disappointment that we often mistake it for mother's cooking.)

-It seems to me that my childhood was my best time, as far as girls are concerned. The kidnergarten chicks could just not get enough of kidnergarten Todd. And with good reason! Bib overalls that showed off his rippling five year old muscles, a class clownishness that made him the star of open mic at recess, and the bluest eyes you have ever seen. Blue eyes that looked like I should have been cast in Dune. Though even at that age I knew Sting was a terrible actor, and kidnergarten Todd would have likely told him so. Here's proof.

Oh, holy shit! That's not kidnergarten Todd at all. This is Todd circa third grade or so, when life starts to beat the shit out of you, in a sort of warm up for the ravages of puberty. Pictures from this era used to bug me, and I'm still wincing a little bit, but since then I've come to realize that no one has an attractive third grade photo. You're missing half your teeth, and your clothing and hairstyle are of a sort that only a kid could get away with. I think what bothers me the most is that this Todd has a smile on his face that I know will be wiped off by years of bad hair, puberty and an unusually awkward adolescence. It's kind of like looking at a deer that's drinking from a stream, unaware that you have it in your crosshairs and in a few days its head will be mounted over your fireplace. Run young Todd, run! Go hide in the woods, emerging years later to be a strapping barrel chested Adonis with roughly the same social skills you would have had otherwise.

- Every morning I lay in bed and wish that I could hear sounds of the children next door shrieking in pain as their knees are broken from too much running down the fucking hallway again and again. And always with the yelling. I think I'm going to string up a piece of invisible piano wire at about neck height so the next time they run by, it's just like, "Yaaaaaaaah"-(plop)

-Barack Obama is not the only one running for president, folks. And I'm not talking about Geezer McFogey, either. There are several candidates, some logical, others nowhere near the area of logic. There are more than two candidates, and Obama cannot feed millions with a few fish and loaves of bread. This is a lawyer (read: evil) that has yet to finish his first term as a senator, and somehow has all the press in America down on their knees, either worshipping or blowing. The next time you feel like complaining about being forced to pick between the lesser of two evils, remember that you don't have to. There are many candidates to choose from and the only reason it's a two party system is because we let it be just that. You can vote for whoever you want to, and it doesn't have to be a Democrat or a Republican. And then you say to yourself, because you're sitting at a computer and you are likely all alone, "Why vote for an independent? They have no chance." Well, that's exactly the type of thinking that gets pretty girls with shitty personalities elected homecoming queen. Would you vote for a girl that called you fatass, or asked you out as a joke, simply because there was no chance that anyone else will win? This country and this planet are in some serious jeopardy, and so I'm going to cast my vote for the fat girl with the great sense of humor. I call her Ralph Nader. But you don't have to vote for her. Vote for the red head girl with blindingly white skin and no rack, if that's your thing. Just don't vote for someone because you feel you don't have any other choice. It is now and always will be a two party system, unless we realize that it's that way because they want it to be that way. It's just another way to control us. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going back to my cabin in the woods, where I plan to write a manifesto.

I watch The Office every week. And though I think that this season, 30 Rock is the better of the two shows, I think that Season 4 has been pretty solid. But two weeks ago there was an episode in which Pam and Jim briefly discussed the possibility of getting engaged, and Jim told her to be on the lookout, because something grand was coming soon. Pam laughed, because apparently all Jim Halpert does is sooooo fuggin' hilarious. Then it cut to him doing his solo interview with the camera, in which he tells us that he is not joking, and pulls out a ring. He says he got it about a week after they started dating, and he looks at it and does that Halpert smile that he does. And across the nation, women everywhere went, "Awww!", or "omigod!", or "why can't I find a guy like that" and the couch cushions became instantly moistened. But I'm calling bullshit. Halpert is a dick. For one, he constantly refers to Pam as Beesley. How many of us call our significant other by their last name? Especially a girl. Girls get all bent out of shape if you forget to get them something on Sweetest Day, a day which was made up IN OUR LIFETIME!!! There are no confusing origins on this "holiday", people! Hallmark figured Valentine's Day wasn't enough, so they made up a new day, because they knew that a billion guys would have to buy something or sleep on the couch. So forget something as informal as calling her by her last name. Secondly, he bought the ring a week after they started dating? The fan in you says "Awww!", but if a guy did that in reality, you would break up with him instantly and have a new favorite story for the next 12 years of Tupperware parties, or whatever the hell it is you uterus holders do when you get together nowadays. The fictitious Jim Halpert gets all this credit for being cute and romantic, and the partners of gals that watch the show get shit on, week after week, and not in the freaky sex way that some people apparently enjoy, though I don't understand it for the life of me. And so from this day forth I declare Jim Halpert to be my mortal enemy, and I will continue to watch The Office as both a means of entertainment and a way to maintain surveillance on this blight on humanity.
And yes, I have been thinking about this for two weeks. You should hear my thoughts on Captain and Tenille. I've been raging about those fuckers for two decades!

And my new music playlist is comprised of songs from all 25 of my favorite albums of all time, with the exception of the two Christian bands on there. Caedmon's Call only had songs from the first album, which is still a pretty great cd. And The Normals could not be found, so instead I put a song from David Gray's "New Day at Midnight" because Warren knows it's his best album and that Tom Petty is better than Bob Dylan. Oh!

I have plans to do a blog about my views on racism, but I must admit I am a bit hesitant. Not that I feel I have anything to fear. It's just like how some people have no sense of humor about Jesus. They feel that if you make a joke about Jesus body checking someone in a game of hockey, it will inspire the wrath of an Almighty that has no sense of humor. Well, let me tell you something, Pat Robertson, if God does exist, he has a sense of humor. Exhibit A: My body hair. Granted, this is more of a cruel practical joke, but it is a joke nonetheless. Exhibit B: the lisp of gay men. Come on, if God hates fags, and I'm most certain he don't, why did he give them such comical ways of expressing themselves? Fags: Nature's Clowns. Exhibit C: Erections. When men get turned on, a body part gets hard and sticks out? The only other body part with this magical power is the nipple, and that's not so easy to control. Though, admittedly, when men get older, the erections are fewer and further between, yet the nipples keep on poking out, alerting all to the fact that our personal Thanksgiving turkey is ready to eat. Exhibit D: Farts. This is the closest thing I have to concrete proof that God not only has a sense of humor, but his tastes are along the same lines as Gallagher.Maybe when we die, we go to heaven and stand before God, and he looks all pissed, and we start to think about all that shit we never atoned for, but he's not really mad, he just wants the shock of him smashing a watermelon to be that much greater. You see, he's not really pissed at all. And if He loves us as much as they say, this should be the way it goes. Guess I'll know when I get there. Personally, I'm still hoping for Musical Heaven. Thousands of people dressed in raincoats doing Gene Kelly impressions and many more singing and dancing to Day by Day.

Five to One, baby, one in five. Here are the Final Five. And not a single one of them is Starbuck, Bill. Dumbass.

5. The Beatles - The Beatles
First Line: Flew in from Miami Beach BOAC, didn't get to bed last night.
Hands down, no band has ever, nor will ever make a better double album. Every type of song a human being could possibly like is done on here, and even when they cover well worn territory, it's better than anyone else ever did it before. Back when I made the change from grunge kid to classic rock kid, this was the album that did it for me. This was my first Beatles album, and I had an affair with it that was more exciting and fulfilling than any sexual experience a sixteen year old boy could have had would match. Or so I said, as I sat in my room and listened to it alone, over and over.  There are five second clips on here that are better than entire discographys of other reputable bands. The bass line on Dear Prudence. I Will, showing us what Paul McCartney can do with a simple acoustic guitar. Yer Blues, in my opinion their best performance on the album. And Revolution 9? Easily the scariest fucking thing I have ever heard. It sounds like what I imagine hell to sound like. Why isn't this my number one album, you likely aren't asking? Two words: Savoy Truffle. George, I love ya, I'm a big fan, but that song sucks cock and nearly kills the end of the album. Also, to a far lesser extent, Martha, My Dear. Is Martha a really old woman? Because it sounds like the song was written for a really old woman. But those songs aside, this album is such an influential part of my teen years and beyond that I would get it tattoed on my back, were it not for the fact that it's a pure white cover. Everyone should own this.

4. Iron and Wine - Our Endless Numbered Days
First Line: God, there is gold hidden deep in the ground.
Look, I don't want to waste your time. I'm not here to bug you. I didn't come to bug you. And this isn't some kid's diary about how misunderstood he feels, but sometimes life is just a kick in the cunt, over and over, until you just wish Flanders was dead. And when this album came along, I was in one of those places. The type where you wonder how you let your life get there and begin to doubt whatever good you could ever offer a mate, let alone yourself. And you start to resign yourself to the thought that maybe you will just be alone, that's the way it is.And then this album came out, and it gave me a hope. Melodramatic? Likely, but sometimes the truth bombs I spit out are. I heard these lyrics and the soft music that is as close to heavenly sounds as I'm likely to get, and I wasn't alone. I knew that there was someone out there that had the same thoughts, both old fashioned and oddly romantic, and if there was someone making music like this, then there was likely going to be some girl out there that really enjoyed hearing a line like "I want your flowers like babies want God's love." And I never doubted myself ever again. Sarcasm doesn't travel well on the internet. Frak yes I doubt, everyone does, but I have something to fall back on in times of trouble. The thought that a verse like "Will you say when I'm gone away, your father's body was judgement day, we both dove and rose to the riverside" means so much to me gives me hope, and that's about as high a compliment as you can get.

3. Flaming Lips - The Soft Bulletin
First Line: Two scientists are racing for the good of all mankind.
To be honest, I was surprised at the placement of this one. But the system used was flawless, and, looking at the competition, this is where it belongs. I'd been burnt by this band before, but the previous album, Zaireeka, intrigued me, and I love nothing more than a band that experiments, even if the results are less than stellar. I found this in the used bin at GB's CDs and Tapes in Decatur, Illinois, and thought, what the hell? The hell was right. It's an album like no other, but with a certain familiarity to it that I can't quite put my finger on. Anyone with good high pitched harmonies gets labeled as Beach Boys-ish, and with good reason, as nobody does it better. Makes me feel sad for the rest. So yeah, it's Beach Boys-ish in some areas, but the drums and bass sound like something out of the Phil Spector catalogue. And all this while sounding like a soundtrack from a low budget futuristic film that has yet to be made. The lyrics, like most of the best ones, are obscure enough to welcome interpretation, but clear enough to paint a picture. There are lots of references to injuries and science, and I think it's a concept album about the previously mentioned two scientists racing, though that comes and goes at best. I don't think they solve the problem they try to fix, and the result is death and destruction. But,with the exception of the end track, an instrumental, the last song with vocals, Feeling Yourself Disintegrate, tells us that this death isn't bad like we thought, but a breathtaking journey that all must go through. And so it ends. If I have to die, I don't think I would mind feeling myself disintegrate. It would probably just take a while. You see, I'm a bit on the chubby side.

2. Tom Petty - Wildflowers
First Line: You belong among the wildflowers.
Sure, you can call Tom Petty a bootleg Bob Dylan if you want, and there's enough evidence to support your theory. But Petty has been making great songs, if not always great albums, for thirty plus years now, and when was the last really great Dylan song put out? Rick Rubin, who produced this and many other landmark albums, calls this his favorite album to listen to. The detail and fun free spirit that runs through this masterpiece are only made better by turning up the volume. Mostly, it's a quiet, almost rustic album. This is a better Tom Petty album than Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers Greatest Hits, and you just know that album stomps balls into paste. It's too difficult to describe why I love this album as much as I do, and maybe that's what makes it so special to me. A line like, "And the days went by, like paper in the wind, everything changed, and then changed again. It's hard to find a friend, it's hard to find a friend." probably doesn't mean shit to anyone else, but it's worlds to me. In the last few months of my college years, when I couldn't sleep, and there were always a million things going on, I would sit in my rocking chair in the dark, and listen to this album, and relax until I could sleep. And though the days were hectic, and mostly a blur, the entire album never once failed to make me feel better about my station in life, and to reassure me that life was never going to be too difficult. So, like I said, probably don't mean shit to you, but it means number two to me. See what I did there? Fucking genius! How am I not scripting blockbusters left and right?

1. The Beatles - Abbey Road
First Line: Here come old flattop, he come groovin up slowly.
The White Album is amazazing, but this is the reason I have a green apple tattooed on my inner arm. (Which hurt like a bitch hurts) Lessin you count the Let it Be album as the last, and no real Beatles fan does, this is not only the greatest album of al time, it is the greatest last album ever done. The best drumming Ringo ever did, on both Come Together and Something. George Harrison kicking ass and taking names with both Something and Here Comes the Sun. Maxwell's Silver Hammer being the most demented song ever to be covered in sugar and gumdrops. Oh! Darling being the closest thing a white man will ever come to imitating Little Richard. John and Paul's background vocals on Octopus's Garden. Paul's bass on I Want You (She's So Heavy): Seriously, it's like the guy has extra fingers or something. The entire second act, which should always be listened to in it's entirety. You Never Give Me Your Money, my personal favorite Beatles song, when Paul screams/sings "Yes, he did, na na na na" and the guitar chimes in and they all start singing "1,2,3,4,567, all good children go to heaven. The guitar and drum solos on The End. And the footnote of Her Majesty, a little seventeen second song that tells us all that while the band is done, it is far from gone. This has been my number one album for a long, long time, and I don't ever see it being replaced. Many can try and many will fail, but here endeth the Todd Griffin Top 25 Albums of all time, time, time.... list, and here is the only logical conclusion in my mind.

I hope you weren't too bored, but I mostly don't give a shit, because it was fun for me. But I do hope you look at some, if not all of these albums and try to see if they mean anything to you. If not, here's a dollar twenty five, and go fuck yourself.

I have had my fair share of crazy people. It’s bad enough they have no sense, are highly illogical, don’t have to work, and smell like feces fried in onion sauce. We are expected to put up with them, nay, to pretend that the bizarre behaviors they act out in full view of everyone are not in fact happening. After a few years of realizing that I could get away with pretty much anything if I stopped showering, I’m sure my social experiments would start to become pretty interesting. And by social experiments, I mean me finally getting to masturbate in public when I felt the urge to, without waiting to get back to my apartment and draw the shades for another production of the "Shame Show." But the homeless and crazy walk around on the trains, jerking with rage, talking to people that aren’t really there, pissing in the spaces between train cars, and then asking me for money. Money? Not two seconds after you took a piss about six inches away from my seat and I silently prayed for no sprayback? It’s kind of like children. Some parents choose to ignore their children when they are doing something that the parents have grown tired of. It’s a lousy way to deal with your shitty kids, and it teaches them nothing other than the fact that if they get irritating enough, mommy and daddy tune them out. We didn’t get tuned out as kids in the Griffin family. We got fucked up. Not in the drunk sense, though the Irish surname may be misleading. We got the shit beat out of us when we acted up. And you know what? We all grew to be upstanding citizens, for the most part. We’re not scarred, at least not physically, and we were much more likely to exhibit positive behaviors. So I say that we just kick the shit out of crazy homeless people whenever they act up. We couldn’t do much worse to them than the invisible demons that they are battling could do. It might do them some good. At the very least, it would scare them away from interacting around us. Knowing that a punch to the kidneys and a "for fuck’s sake, take a bath" were coming their way could be incredibly helpful to them. And if you were savagely beating one down in public, and a lame ass hippy parent type came up and told you that you shouldn’t hit them, you could say, "Shut up! It’s my crazy homeless person. When you have a crazy homeless person, you can treat them however you like."

10-6. Big time buttfucking albums. We are getting down to the nitty gritty itty bitty tittie committee.

 10. Stone Temple Pilots - Purple
First line: Fine place for a day full of breakdowns
When this album came out, STP (Which is what we in the know like to call the band) were not taken all that seriously by those in my age group. It was thought that they were nothing more than Pearl Jam knockoffs, and the first album, Core, might make that a bit easier to understand. But while Pearl Jam was busy fighting Ticketmaster, Soundgarden was busy drinking, a lot, and Nirvana was pretty busy trying to clean Kurt Cobain’s brains off a wall, Stone Temple Pilots put this album out without too much fanfare, and it’s probably for that reason that this album quietly dazzles. If it only contained Interstate Love Song, it would be good enough. But this goes further. 12 Gracious Melodies, with lyrics and music by a drug addled band that never let themselves slow down. "One time a thing occured to me, what’s real and what’s for sale" from Vaseline is a nonsense line that might actually mean something. Or it’s nonsense. Either way, I know the line "if you should die before me, ask if you can bring a friend" does mean something. Grunge left a bad taste in a lot of people’s mouths, and some people were never that fond of STP to begin with. But I feel it is an amazing album that makes me think of ten thousand things all at once, and I like that feeling.

 9. Postal Service - Give Up
First line: Smeared black ink, your palms are sweaty and I’m barely listening.
At times, more often than not, I’m a bit of a sentimental hopeless romantic type of guy. In other words, a closeted homosexual. But seriously folks, I dig the music of the heartbroken. It gives me something I feel I can connect to, and that’s where this album comes in. At one time I wrote a list of what I liked about this album that was almost two pages long. I won’t bore you with it, thank Jeebus, but the gist was such: It’s music made for lame ass white kids to dance to and the lyrics will cover every girl you’ve ever loved, are loving or will love from now until the day you die. A death which will likely be caused by that woman, because, hey, girls, you know? They’re gonna be the death of us all. But when Postal Service says, "I want to take you far, from the cynics in this town, and kiss you on the mouth", it makes you realize that you will go to your death with this woman willingly and the only regret will be not kissing her one last time.

 8. Pink Floyd - Dark Side of the Moon.
First line: Breathe, breathe in the air.
I was not surprised to see this album on the list, but I was surprised at how high up it was placed, until I thought about it. It is the best album of a pretty solid band, though some people will claim otherwise, but those people are douchebags. And everytime I hear a song from this on the radio, I turn it up, and I never switch stations. An album that I’ve heard so many times, be it in my truck at my old job, or on my record player at home, or wherever fine music is played, that I know all the little background parts by heart. The "he was cruising for a bruising", "I can’t think of anything to say" and insane little chuckles inserted in the songs. It’s like an album about a fairy tale with no plot, and no little people or creatures, only badass winners all around. The chick singer on it burns the roof off of every part she gets, and when the album kicks out the jams on the closer, it ignites a passion, close to anger, only less violent. "All that you touch, and all that you see." Not a bad summary for the album, now that I think about it.

 7. Nirvana - Nevermind
First line: Load up on guns, bring your friends.
This is the first album that I ever bought, in the seventh grade I believe, that I loved from beginning to end. I had always been a cassingles type of fellow until this album happened, and I realized that it was possible to have a dozen good songs on one album that wasn’t a mixtape. The lyrcs are weird, nonsensical and totally punk rock, at least according to my understanding of the term, and thus, it would be useless to type them here. I only know that this album really did change the way I think about music, and set me off on a path that would eventually lead me to the Beatles, Pearl Jam and  dozen other simply amazing bands, while causing me to stumble past cds by the Henry Rollins Band, Yes and a dozen other bands that should have been cassingles bands. When Kurt Cobain died my freshman year of high school, I wore black for a week. Granted, the majority of my shirts were Harley Davidson and therefore black in nature, but the point was made. Sometimes overhype can take something mediocre and make it seem legendary. However, that is not the case with this album and what I feel it did for me.

  6. Radiohead - Kid A
First line: Yesterday I woke up sucking on lemon.
A lot of people hate this album. That seems downright looney to me. There are some winter nights, when the wind howls outside the window, and you can feel the chill seep in, that you want to shut off the lights and put a cd in. And there were many winter nights during the 2000-01 year in which I did that very same thing, with this album. I first heard it through my bestest buddy Nick Stolle, who bought it and brought it back to our apartment. Never before or since have I heard an album that sounds at once cold and dead while still seeming alive and miraculous in nature. It was adventurous and it helped me to think about things when I would listen to it. During the time period in which it was in constant rotation, I was having a rough time. I was being laid off from work on a constant basis, and never had any money to my name. It was the type of bad time that you hoped would end soon, though you couldn’t conceive it actually doing so. But this album doesn’t make me think of that. It makes me think of sitting and listening to it, ignoring all the outside cares of the world. Getting worked up at the frenzied end of National Anthem only to have that chaos spill over into How to Disappear Completely,which sounds like you have accidentally awoken in the dreams of a crazy person trying not to take that last step over the edge. I may not be the hugest Radiohead fan in the world, and OK Computer’s lovability kind of comes and goes for me, but I remember feeling moved by this album. And the fact that it still evokes these feelings in me after all this time speaks to its importance to me. A masterpiece.

So, that’s just about all she wrote. Next time, I take an act of buttfuckery to startlingly new depths with 5-1. And an added incentive. If anyone can guess my top 5, not in order, before I type the list, I will give you a crisp twenty dollar bill. Or an old twenty dollar bill. Whichever one the ATM spits out. No rush, though. It should be about 6 months before I type the next one. We writers are a fickle bunch.

I'm bringing buttfuck back. When I was a younger lad, that was the curse word that could cripple kingdoms and bring leaders to their knees. And it still works. I like the sound of it. The double "uh" sound just rolls off the tongue. I have no idea what happened to the word. It was only recently I found myself using it in traffic, and then wondered where it had been all these past years, like finding a favored t-shirt in a pile at the bottom of your closet. Hey, what the hell are you doing with one of my shirts in your closet?! And so I would encourage you to use it again, with frequency, whether for comic value or to relieve the stress that is caused by your wife's infedility and/or youngest child's horrific physical ailments. 

I contacted the bronchitis not too long past. In addition to giving me a newfound love of oxygen, as going outside made it difficult to breathe, the time spent recovering in the comfort of my apartment shed light on a few things.
-After a few days alone, even my own flatulence becomes less funny and more irritating.
-The Gilmore Girls Seventh Season was not as terrible as I had thought. And Rory had moved safely into the "Most Attractive Gilmore Girl" position after years of hot mother on daughter competition for my affections.
-I have developed a taste for tea, which I never really dug before. I'm happiest if the tea has a picture of a bear in a nightgown on the front.
- Lindsay Lohan's hotness peaked in Mean Girls, which makes me feel seven different kinds of wrong.
- I really miss watching Simpsons reruns several dozen times a day.
-The names of the seven Endless, in order of age, are Destiny, Death, Dream, Destruction, Desire, Despair and Delirium.
- Batman is so much cooler than Superman. Period. Menstruation.
- Root beer flavored cough drops are not at all disappointing and are just as awesome as you could ever hope for them to be.
-MIA's cd gets me all excited, from just listening to her voice, which proves what I have long suspected. I like my women to be militant and dark skinned.

I make no apologies.

15. Blink-182 - Blink-182
First Line: I got no regrets right now. (I'm feeling this)
I felt guilty about this one for about two seconds, and then I decided that I will be listening to this album long after I have pissed on every single naysayer's grave. I have a tradition, in which I go to Best Buy on Blck Friday and pick up a cd. A few years ago, having enjoyed the first single, Feeling This, and having heard many good things, I picked this album up. It did not disappoint in any way. It may be the power pop punk penis thing that a lot of people, myself included, don't generally care for, but this album is more than that. It's an album of possibility. It shows how a group could go from "She Loves You" era Beatles to "Nowhere Man" era Beatles. It was a giant step in a promising direction, the songs were catchy as hell, and I have a really strong memory of listening to it in the backseat of my parents car with my younger brother as we drove home from our endless parade of shopping and pretzels. I listened to this album over and over and told anyone who would stop moving for two seconds about it. If it's not your thing, fine, but it's mine, and I have long since abandoned the thought of guilty pleasures. There is nothing wrong with liking an album when it brings it hardcore and does it for you in every way you would hope. The only problem being that they never put out another album after this. However, that just freezes the possibility aspect in time, and makes me hopeful for the future.

14. Fiona Apple - When the Pawn Hits.... (A lot more)
First Line: All my life is on me now, hail the pages turning.
You have an album title that's about 40-50 words long, you're going to lose some people. Which is a shame, because anyone who listens to this album will find something to like, which is not to say it's all over the place, only that it is so surprising and unusual that it draws the listener in. If you've ever wondered why a guy can fall for a crazy girl, you should listen to this. Around this time, Fiona Apple was nuttier than squirrel shit, and she owns up to it in the lyrics, but I would have gladly let her hold a knife to my throat while she had her way with me. There's a refreshing honesty here that is only further awesomized by the amazing music. You can actually hear her smile when she says "I've acquired quite a taste for a well made mistake." Sign me up. It's like the dark girl in English class that wrote amazing poems, but you were kind of scared of her because her car had a Misfits sticker on the back. TG's favorite solo gal album ever!

13. New Pornographers - Mass Romantic
First Line: Mass romantic fool wears Foster Grants, his books on tape ring true.
Let's be clear, there is no such thing as a New Pornographers album that is not fantastic, but this, the first, comes out swinging and doesn't let up. If I did not know it already, I would have a hard time pinpointing exactly what time period this album got released in. It has a kick to it that has even made my father tap his hand on the car door. Like most of their albums, the lyrics are a bit on the abstract side, which doesn't mean they are bad, just hard to explain out of context of the whole song. The first time I heard this, I was sleeping on Nick's ratty black couch, which was nice and all, with the exception of its many tears which gave way to jagged edges of fabric. Not to mention that it was also warm outside and the couch was made of material not unlike the non-sticky side of duct tape. But a miserable night's sleep was made all the better by this album, which grabbed me by the shoulders and said, "Listen to me, love me, sing my songs in your truck at work, and dance around in your seat like a cat on fire!" And so I did all these things. My love of this band grows continually, and it all started here. And while it sucks that this cd got stuck with unlucky number 13, if any album is kickass enough to break the curse, it's this one. Plus, Neko Case, ass, titties, and all. A drunken Irish father couldn't beat this album.

12. Caedmon's Call - 40 Acres
First Line: Is this the strange feeling of you, working all to good
You see, kids, Uncle Todd had hisself a bit of an acoustic phase. He looks back on this time fondly, when he chose to forego the futuristic sound of the electric guitar and focus more on the singer-songwriter who needed only an acoustic guitar, a ponytail, and a coffeehouse to make his feelings known. The lyrics are half Christian/ half single guy, and I was both at the time I originally purchased this album, so it was like killing two birds with one stone, but with a cd and no death. Derek Webb, the one who wrote the single guy lyrics, was in his finest form on this album, and he had done and has done a lot of great things. "Given a chance and a rock, see which one breaks a window. And see which one keeps me up all night and into the day." I mean, come on. Call it lame and whiney if you want, but it hit me in the second most sensitive place on my body: the heart. Musically, these guys and gal are amazing professional players, and this album is kind of like Shawn Colvin and Paul Simon rolled into one, and without videos starring Chevy Chase. Not everyone is perfect. But they have a song where trash cans were used for percussion. Oscar the Grouch couldn't come up with that shit, and that fucker lived in one! A terrific album that every 20 year old that likes acoustic guitar should hear. Just brush the ponytail out of the way.

11. Weezer - Weezer
First Line: My name is Jonas, I'm carrying the wheel.
When I was 15, it never occured to me how much this album kicked ass. It just did. It just had ten great songs and talked about Dungeons and Dragons, and their videos were cool, and I started wearing unbuttoned dress shirts to school and if you don't know this album, I can't tell you anything. If you do, I can only remind you. My Name is Jonas, Surf Wax America, harmonies to make the Beach Boys proud, that bass line on Only in Dreams. This will always remind me of summers before I started working, when a summer was a summer, and when I was just starting to find this other type of music, and my heavier Biohazard tastes were getting shoved into the background to make room for music that took its time and was sometimes just pretty. Everybody loved this album, and with good reason. They knew that someday it would end up as my number 11 in the Todd Griffin's Top 25 Albums of All Time, Time, Time...

Coming up: My farts start to get funny again and we cover 10-6. Join me. It will be a buttfuckin' good time for all involved. See? It's so easy, and anyone can do it!
I miss you, Lorelei Gilmore. Come back.

Say, here's a challenge for you! You can do this at home, in the car, at your friend's home, in your friend's car, at a stranger's home, or even in a stranger's car. It's called masturbation, and it's the wave of the future! But in half seriousness, the challenge is this: Turn on the radio, and select the scan feature, in which the tiny goblins which control your car radio will change from station to station while you drive, talk on your cell phone, fix your makeup, and prepare a salad with all the fixins. Allow it to go through all the individual stations twice, meaning that all the stations will be heard twice, with the exception of the starting station, which will be heard three times. Now that it's done, try to tell me that you didn't hear that Alicia Keys song at least once. That "no one, no one, no wa-ah-ah-an" song. If you say that you did not hear it, you are a liar and the herpes which will someday cover your genitals and lips will be well deserved. And the shitty part is, it's a good song. Not an amazing song. It's sure as hell not One Toke Over the Line, Sweet Jesus, but it is good. And this is the problem. It's nothing new, but radio will beat the hell out of a song if there is even a whiff of popularity to it, hire Jesus as a contractor to Lazarus it, and then play it to death again. I say we give them two months. That's long enough for any song. From the first day that it gets regular rotation on a station, masturbation, it has two months. After that, pull it. (Which I suppose could be made into another masturbation joke, if I were a jerk. Jerking off. Hi-yo!) What would be the downside of all this? The answer: None. When was the last time you remember missing hearing a song on the radio? It doesn't happen, because they have now and always will play songs until they are certain that blood is oozing from our ears, and then they play the next batch. I can't wait to hear the next song I'll hate from repetition!

20. The Normals - Coming to Life
First Line: Here we can't stop moving, can't let the fear creep in. Religion confuses me and often makes my head hurt. And I'm sure it seems odd that my number 20 is a Christian album, as I made roughly 49 masturbation jokes earlier in the post. But, as some of you may know, I have a wee bit of an evangelical background, which I have long since turned from, prodigal son that I am and all. My reasons for doing so are many and complicated and would be several long, rambling blogs that I wouldn't dream of boring others with, but I can tell you what one of the reasons was not: The tunes, man. Musically, The Normals, who have gone the way of the dodo, are on par with any mainstream band you can throw. Lyrically, they are leagues above most. Christianity, to me, is a frustrating thing, filled with contradictions between the way people say they should act and the way that they really act, myself included. But this album always sounded to me like what it really was. It's temptaion, struggle, fear, lust, and so much more, yet topped off with the attitude that while we may not ever be the people we want to be, there is a light that never goes out. A Jesus light. And when they sing, "Hillary has a lovely smile, through the haze of Hillary's cigarettes. Jesus says, all I want is to love her, but she won't believe me yet", it makes me happy that neither Jesus nor the Normals have given up on her yet. Great friggin album, even if you may not believe in Superman.

19. The Strokes - Room on Fire
First Line: I want to be forgotten, and I don't want to be reminded.
First things first: Anyone who tells you that the first album is better is a douche. Plain and simple. That should save you some time in developing friendships down the line. It's similar to the first album, Is This It?, but it's more focused and polished. And while that may be a bad thing in the wrong hands, The Strokes bring a Cars like sound to it, where all the drum fills, bass lines and guitar chords come in exactly where you would hope they would. Under Control reminds me of so many girls from my past that I almost prefer not to listen to it, if it just wasn't so damn awesome. To me, there is not a single second on this album that is not hummable, and I enjoy it very much. Plus, that muffled singing thing that Julian Casablancas does is much less irritating this time around, since he learned to emote a bit. And for every heart ache that Under Control reminds me of, The Way it is reminds me what eventually happened to those girls when the song says, "I wish it were not true, but that's the way it is, it's not your fault, that's the way it is, I'm sick of you, and that's the way it is and will always be." It's better than it gets credit for, and was in constant rotation in my house for so long that my roommate forbade me from playing it when he was around.

18. Yo La Tengo - Summer Sun
First Line: I want to go back, to the time when I went sailing.
Ok, this one confuses me a bit. It's my favorite band, but this is the only album they have on the list. And, I'm well aware that they have "better" albums than this one. But this is my favorite. It's YLT at their jazziest, most romantic, most playful, and quietest. Today is the Day, a track that is found in a much more rollicking version on a single they released, is a really beautiful song, aching with longing. And though I've heard it for years, and I connect emotionally with it, I really couldn't tell you what the song is about. And I like it that way. It contains a 15 minute song called Let's Be Still, which makes me want to lay on a beach at night with the one that I love, and I hate sand. Plus, I'm not that fond of water. Georgia Hubley sings more beautifully on this album than on any other, James gets a kick ass song, and Ira spits words out like a 40 year old Jewish rapper. "Like a palindrome, or a friend indeed, like "wow" or Tara Key, it seems I always need reminding what a fool believes." There are better albums, but you can put those on your list, because this is my favorite.

17. Starflyer 59 - Everybody Makes Mistakes
First Line: These friends of mine, fill in the lines, to put in the songs you like, to fill up your time.
This is the first SF59 album I ever got, even though it is, not counting eps, their fifth. It's got a melancholy 80's John Hughes soundtrack type of feel to it, but it's really much more complex than that. It might as well be an EP, as, excluding the hidden song, it comes in at about a half an hour, but I think that might be part of its charm. It gets in, plays the songs, and leaves quietly, while you sit and ponder what just happened. And as far as giving relationships another chance, lines like "I don't want to be alone, sitting by a no ringing telephone. No I don't want to be alone, so let's just try", make me think that second chances are not such a bad idea. I used to put it on before I went to sleep, and could easily focus on the drone until I was fast asleep. Until the hidden track would start up after five minutes of silence and scare the hell out of me. I hated my first apartment, but when I think about this album, it doesn't seem so bad.

16. Beck - Mellow Gold
First Line: In a time of chimpanzees, I was a monkey.
Oh the disappointment  I felt when my brother drove me to the mall so that I could buy this album from the Musicland, only to find that it had a parental advisory on it, which meant that I wasn't going to be able to buy it, as my folks were pretty strongly opposed to those types of things. Songs like Fucking with my Head and Motherfucker stared back up at me, a defiant glare in their metaphorical eyes. A few months later, a young man I went to school with, Mike Dennis, let it be known that he had purchased it and was interested in selling it fr five dollars. Being a cheap bastard, I asked if I could borrow it to see if I wanted to buy it from him. Then I copied it onto a tape and gave the cd back, telling him I wasn't interested. The tape was unlabeled, should my parents somehow come across some sort of musical knowledge and recognize the name Mellow Gold from the list of cds that bad parents let their children buy. This was the second ever recipient of the Todd Griffin album of the year award, and Beck, in my opinion, never topped it and never will. The lyrics are too ramshackle to reprint, as they wouldn't make much sense if you heard them, but trust me when I say that the album is phantasmagoric. It was playing in my car as I drove away from my high school graduation, and that speaks volumes, because you just know I had that shit planned.

Next time: 15-11. It don't get no better than this. Except for 10-6 and 5-1. But, other than that.
Cloverfield is a cool movie. Anyone that says different is a bad person and did not make Jacob's list.

It seems that people have forgotten the term single file. Old man Winter has been slapping us in the face with his frigid cock for quite a while now, and large mounds of shoveled snow are to be found all over the city of Chicago. This makes it incredibly inconvenient to manuever your way among the hordes of cell phone chatting, faux hawked fashionistas and their fur lined hooded winter jackets. It's already difficult for me, as walking on perfectly dry concrete often makes me look like a one legged man trying to kick a field goal. Or, to be honest, me trying to kick a field goal. But I tend to walk at a quicker pace than the average bear, and I am finding it difficult to pass large groups of homosexuals with breath that smells of some caramel Starbucks drink that I can't pronounce. And dick. Or, if my luck is tilting towards the "shitty" end of the scale, approaching a couple coming from the opposite direction, I know I'm about to get a sample of Dirt Slushee, because those fuckers wouldn't separate from their irritating as hell hand holding session if I was staggering towards them with shards of broken glass sticking from my face and a dead baby hanging limply in my arms. I swear one of these days, I'm going to double clothesline them. They'll never see it coming. Why would they? Do I look like Tito Santana? Flying forearm. Pretty lame finishing move, now that I think about it. It's certainly no jacknife powerbomb.

Ok, I was going to start off with warnings, but I decided against it. You want to make fun of my picks, have at it. I know I'm right. I know I'm better than you. And modest.
TODD GRIFFIN'S TOP 25 ALBUMS OF ALL TIME

25. Damien Jurado - Ghost of David
First Line: "It just so happens I have many concerns." I remember the first time that I heard this album, with my bestest buddy Nick Stolle, in our apartment, one cold winter night when I had to get up for my thankless job early the next morning.  We couldn't stop listening to the first song, over and over. It was one of those songs that was so sad that it was beautiful. (Which I'm sure will be a recurring theme in this list.) Every song on this album is one of mourning, yet I find it deeply relaxing, and beautiful enough to listen to in the middle of summer just as easily as the dead of winter. Every song is a keeper, and this album, along with the rest on this list, would be one of the first things I would grab in a house fire. Even before loved ones. Loved ones have legs, they could escape.

 24. Zwan - Jesus, I/Mary, Star of the Sea
First Line: "Here comes my faith, to carry me on." I'm sure a lot of people would have a problem with this album showing up on the list, especially since no Smashing Pumpkin album is. I don't know what to tell you. I love the Smashing Pumpkins. I do. But this album takes everything that they did and tinkers with it just enough to make it better. The message is, for the most part, incredibly positive. It has a large, epic sound to it that sounds better the louder you play it, which is not the case for a lot of albums. It also has Jimmy Chamberlain on drums, which makes any album better. I mean, it has a 14 minute song that kicks ass and sounds peaceful, often at the same time! Plus, when I first moved to Chicago, and was convinced that I had no one that gave two shits about me within a three hour radius, this was on constant play in my dorm room. I never got tired of it, I just listened to other things eventually. It made me feel better, and it always sets me in mind of a certain time, which, while it may not have been my favorite time ever, was an important step in me becoming the awesome bitch I am today. This album is important to me, and so it gets a spot.

23. Moby - 18
First Line: "Growing in numbers, growing in speed." His album Play is the one that got a lot of credit, and rightfully so. It's solid, and all the songs were used in commercials, ensuring that it would stick around in people's minds. However, I think this album, the one immediately following, beats the shit out of that one. Coming after 9/11, it's a pretty somber affair, but it does the sad and beautiful thing like no one's business. It's music that you could cry to or dance to, and if you're a fag, you'll likely do both. Me, I think it's the best album I could have driven through Kentucky at six in the morning listening to, as the fog still hung around the lower fields. And the song "In This World"? Two tragedies: It wasn't a huge hit, and project playlist doesn't carry it. I'm not down with the religions of old anymore, but this album's gospel samples and reflective spirit make me wish I were sometimes.

22. Animal Collective - Feels
First Line: "Have you seen them, the words cut open?" It's kind of hard to describe this album without sounding like a beatnik or an idiot. Either one I'm fine with, obviously, but I would like to do the album justice. For starters, all the songs are about relationships, happy loving ones at that. Secondly, you have to imagine that the Beach Boys suddenly became Merpeople, had just woken up, and decided to put on an underwater show for their crustaccean (sp?) friends. It sounds like the best stuff that the early 60's rock bands that never successfully transitioned to the late 60's psychedelic bands never put out. And the words make me think of lovely things. On "Flesh Canoe", when they sing, "When I ask you to make funny faces with me in the mirror of the bathroom", I feel like my idea of romance has been perfectly defined. And while the screams and whoops can be irritating to some, and normally would be to me, here it just sounds like the perfect expression of the feelings they are going for. Animal Collective is a truly, no hyperbole here, amazing band, and this is their best album.

21. BT - Movement in Still Life
First Line: "Mad Skillz!" Ok, so you now how in that N'Sync song "Pop", right before Justin Timberlake starts going, "sick and tired of hearing all these people talk about"? (Yes, you do. Don't even try with that shit.) There's a part where a robot voice says, "BT"? That's this guy. He was a hot shit producer a few years back, but this is the one album where he made a batch of great songs for himself. It doesn't have a lot of guest vocals like you'd expect, and it gets asses moving. I put the song "Godspeed" on a mix for a Halloween party my roommate and I threw, and it was the surprise hit of the night. I thought that the floor would break from all the people jumping and shaking the very thing that their mommas gave them. The quieter songs are what quiet techno-ish songs are supposed to sound like, in that they get your head bobbing, yet don't compel you to move anything else. Bonus: It's the only cd that all four of the Brothers Griffin own. Does this mean something? Not likely, but it's kind of cool to me. And sure, you can get spiked hair and a sore anus just from looking at that cover picture, but it's an album that doesn't feel dated, and is still as enjoyable to me as the first time I heard it. I think I'm gonna go shake my ass now.

NEXT: 20-!6 (The exclamation was on purpose. It's gonna kick so much ass!)