She Is Good to Me and I Am Good to Her

Moses Martin? Gwyneth and Chris named their new baby Moses Martin? Are you kidding me? Oh my, that is just too fucking delightful. What's with their baby names' Old Testament theme? First Apple, then Moses. Ooh, if the next one isn't a minor prophet, I'll eat my hat. (Sing it with me, Benji.)

Speaking of which, how's about that Gospel of Judas that's just recently been verified as being authentic? (The announcement was ever so nicely timed for Holy Week. I guess the Church can't be begrudged their version of sweeps. Stay tuned for sexy guest stars, dangerous stunts, and never-before-seen ancient Coptic manuscripts!) I think the more we know about the early days of Christianity and the formation of the canon, the better off everyone's going to be. I mean, yeah, I'm a big religious studies nerd, but when it comes to uncovering the shady dealings and fractious infighting and marginal belief systems that were considered so dangerous they had to be repressed at all costs, I can hardly stand how exciting it is! (And now it's time for a commercial break plugging Elaine Pagels's fantastic book on the Gospel of Thomas, Beyond Belief. I would loan it to you if I hadn't given my copy out to someone else already.)

Malcolm Gladwell-watch! "My mandate is to convince people that [psychological science] is exciting and to use the discipline in making us think in different ways about social problems or political issues, and that requires taking some liberties — not liberties, that's too strong a word — that requires having fun with it." A wonderful, lengthy article about him in the Association for Psychological Science's journal, Observer (via).

"You'll hear a little bit of auto tune and you're like, 'You're too fucking good for that. Why would you let them do that to you? Don't you know what that means?' It's not an effect like people try to say, it's for people like Shania Twain who can't sing. Yet there they are, all over the radio, jizzing saccharine all over you": Neko Case talks to Pitchfork about songwriting, singing, and Celine Dion's horrifying Anne Geddes baby photo book.

Girls Don't Poop.

Oh man, seeing a show like the one Gogol Bordello put on Saturday is pretty much the whole reason I go to rock concerts. To have experiences like that, plain and simple. Every time I buy a ticket to anything, I'm always chasing down that ideal, secretly hoping I'm going to come out at the end of the night feeling like I just went through a major catharsis. Hoping there will be deafening noise and sweating and jumping and screaming and fist-pumping and emotional electricity and pure fucking joy. To stand in a surging crowd that feels so wild and yet so happy and so safe. Eugene Hutz and his band of merrymakers bring all that and some goddamn wicked facial hair to boot. Not to be missed. Thanks for being there with me, Nora Rocket and JZ. Hoptza!

It's Raining Today

Scott Walker announces details of his first album in over a decade. I don't know too much about his work, but what I do know, I adore. But even for a casual fan like myself, this is a very big deal.

Seriously, Pope jokes are never not funny. Stereogum has the lowdown on Benedict XVI's iPod Nano. The line about The Joshua Tree cracked me up. Is it too much to hope for a hacked Sidekick scandal from the Vatican, too? ::shudder::

Do all you people know about the current political situation in Turkmenistan? This is news to me because I live in a cave and roar at people when they attempt to approach with fire, but apparently, the country is ruled over by a crazy dictator who has erected a massive gold statue of himself on a rotating base so that it always faces the sun, schoolchildren are forced to read the two books that he has written, all the clock faces in the country have to have his profile on them, and he has renamed the days of the week after himself and members of his family (among other offenses). This is awful, an egregious abuse of power, etc., of course, but--ha! Fuck me, this is the funniest thing I've read about all day. I feel so horrible being amused by this, but, Christ, what a wacko. Love it.

Tell Me "Snack Hamster" Doesn't Sound Like a B-52s Song

A weird day for weird animal behavior in urban environments: snakes and hamsters hanging out amiably in a zoo in Tokyo (thanks for the link, Nora Rocket) and a whale swimming up the Thames in London. This makes Mike O'D's joke about the dead pigeon on my backdoor staircase asking me in a Groucho Marx voice, "wha? Ya mean'ya never saw'r a dead pigeon before?" seem almost possible.

A brief but surprisingly bold defense of religion in indie rock today on Pitchfork.

I have recently taken to enhancing my hot beverages with French vanilla Coffeemate, and, boy howdy, does it make me feel a little less apathetic about my life right now. It's especially good with the Celestial Seasonings Perfectly Pear White Tea. Mwrowr.

Dear ambiguously accented, fast-talking waiter from the Wildfire last night: you get funnier the more I think about you. You were a fine waiter and all, and I mean no disrespect, but, seriously, are you part cartoon? Were the formative years of your childhood spent in an RKO comedy? Never has anyone actually said to me, in apparent earnest, "thass veruh, veruh nahce. Eggggcellent choissse." I couldn't have asked for a more perfect complement to the retro steakhouse ambiance. Bogart's Charhouse could use a few of your ilk to help class up the joint.