I AM COMMITTING A SIN

In all seriousness...

2010-03-17T11:46:00.000-07:00

Yesterday afternoon I was standing in a store weighing my options. I stood transfixed by the wall of brands as I thought too long and too hard about what single can of beer I would choose to fill my mouth. In the middle of this ridiculous selection process I was interrupted by a message to my phone from a close friend informing me that a mutual friend of ours, Dan Achen, passed away the night previous.

For those who don't know. Dan Achen was a Hamilton based recording engineer and producer, the owner of Catherine North Studios and a vault of really neat old music gear, and an enthusiastic, music loving dude who was arguably the first person to invest his time and money in I Am Committing A Sin for the love of the project.

Though they never really saw the light of day, the three songs we recorded with Dan at Catherine North were invaluable as a foundation and were certainly more formative than we expected at the time.

Dan spent his life doing what he wanted to do, and that's something that I strive to do and admire in other people. I've been told that Dan suffered the heart attack during or shortly after a game of Monday night pick-up hockey which if you knew him, was something he talked about often. The fact that Dan passed away while doing exactly what he wanted to be doing is proof enough that he was an awesome person.

Just incase you think my reasons aren't good enough, Chart Attack has eleven more that will surely suffice.

http://www.chartattack.com/news/80240/ten-reasons-dan-achen-was-cool

and Catherine North:

http://www.catherinenorth.com/

Thanks, everyone.

NAAAAAAT Funny

2010-03-11T14:50:00.000-08:00

Over the course of the last several months the five of us; myself especially, have done some real no-soul searching. This all beginning around the time I announced to the other members and subsequently to all of you that I was leaving the band to pursue personal academic exploits. The decision to leave the group was perhaps the single most difficult one I've ever had to make. I feel like I hit a low point when I asked myself whether or not what we were doing had real purpose and if making art was truly worth sacrificing things like stability, structure and at times even my sanity. I never thought that I’d ever have to answer those kinds of questions. I decided that it wasn't, told the people closest to me, and that was that.

It's hard to walk away from something that at one point consumed you entirely. IACAS was and still is a machine or engine, perpetually gaining speed and making it nearly impossible to stop, get off and enjoy certain things around you- things you love. The ride is befitting of the music we've made; sporadic, fast paced, and at times almost a chore to appreciate.

We’ve played some final farewell shows, most of which were amazing and because of that you’d probably find us sitting somewhere in the back of the venue after them, looking depressed. It’s hard to swallow the expiry date and looking at us walking off stage after those performances, you could most likely see it sitting there in our throats as we tried to get it down.

We’re sick of trying to swallow it and we’re not going to. I want those of you who still care about us to know that IACAS isn’t dead just yet. The 5 of us together have decided that at this point in our lives, both for us and for you, we won’t be giving up on art and we’ll be finishing what we’ve started. It’s not a realization on my part, or any sort of epiphany for that matter. I’ve made the decision to stick it out and push this machine to run as fast and hard as it can and I promise I’ll have this arrogant, shit eating grin on my face as it does. We’re going to be louder, more aggressive and won’t hold back any punches this time. I’m not done screaming my opinions in your faces and I’m more pissed than ever.

To those of you who made the supposed farewell shows what they were: thank you. To those of you who flooded my personal facebook account with pleas for me to stay: thank you so fucking much. And to those of you who enjoyed a laugh and a tickle when we told you it was over: it’s time to cry, pussies. This is music. A movement. A union. And these fucking lungs haven’t given up just yet so quit it with the jokes.

Review of the 2nd annual academy awards (gold statues)

2010-03-10T18:35:00.001-08:00

PRECIOUS WINS: Best K.F.Cinematography (0 STARS!!!!)

PRECIOUS WINS: Best Arm Fat (0 STARS!!!!!!!!)

PRECIOUS WINS: Best Performance (Samuel L. Jackson as 'Young Precious') (0 Stars!!!!!!)

Precious Wins: Best Supporting Floor Boards (0 Stars!!!!!!

Precious Wins: Best Movie sans Jew (0 Stars!!!!!)

For all these reasons and more, we're still going to make music for you. Stay tuned for your final warning before this happens again.

-Daniel

2nd Annual "New Years Resolutions You're An Idiot For Making" Blog

2010-01-04T09:35:00.000-08:00

1. You told your wife: "Gee golly whiz dicks Alice, I sure do think that I'll start eating some more oranges so I can be as strong as I was on the high school football team." WRONG! Because you do know where oranges come from, don't you?

2. You told your wife: "Gee golly whiz dicks Alice, I sure do think I'll start playing basketball with little Jimmy and Jimmy Jr (the girl one!)" WRONG! Because you do know where basketballs come from from, don't you?

3. You told your wife: "Gee golly whiz dicks Alice, I sure do think I'll start listening to the rap music so I can have a better relationship with little Jimmy and Jimmy Jr (the girl one!)" WRONG! Because you do know where rap music comes from, don't you?

4. You told your wife: "Gee golly whiz dicks Alice, I sure do think I'll quit smoking this year." Really? Again? Shut up already, it's impossible.

5. You told your wife: "Gee golly whiz dicks Alice, I sure do think I'll stop reading that fucking I Am Committing A Sin blog. It's so fucking stupid. The guy who writes them is probably a chubby, short, ugly asshole." WRONG! Because you know where other blogs come from, don't you?

When people stop making new years resolutions, I'll stop blogging all together. It's not like I like doing it anyways. Don't forget that our new body of work, "The Tragedians EP", is still streaming on punknews.org. Try to forget that they spelt our name wrong and that they omitted the album art though.

http://www.punknews.org/bands/iamcommitingasin

Captain's Blog Stardate: 95553

2009-12-22T10:10:00.000-08:00

You look like this:

There's only one problem: I hate you.

Merry God-day fuck twats!

-Daniel

This Week (Next Week [The Week That Happens Now, Idiot]) And Also A Group Of People I Hate

2009-12-13T13:13:00.000-08:00

Dear Much Music watching fuckbags (bags o' fuck),

get ready for next week because if you live anywhere between London and Toronto you've got a chance to get super happy before you have the worst get-ahead religious holiday ever.

On Wednesday we're doing a little thing I like to call, "playing with Protest the Hero in London". It's at London Music Hall or whatever so come out. I told you London-loving crumpet fuckers that we'd be back. And lucky you, it's with a real band this time and not with a "baby's first band with breakdowns and auto-tune" kind of band. Well...almost. So we kept our promise. We're sorry and you're welcome.

After that show you've got 2 days to make your way down to Toronto where we'll be playing a show with our brother bands (with whom we share a patriarchical and enslaving management duo), Arietta and Ulysses and the Siren. But shut the fuck up before you scream like a 14 year old Jonas-whore because Lifestory; Monologue is on the fucking bill too!

Now you scream.

Done? Good.

So make sure you check out that show (December 19th @ Sneaky Dee's in Toronto).

Sounds like a pretty good week, dun it?

Okay now that business is out of the way I can talk to you about some people that suck.

Look at this:

Here you see the average fat girl between the ages of 18 and 24.
These people a) live in residence b) love to drink c) love Jack Johnson and d) piss me off .
In their natural state these women know that they aren't beautiful. It kills them. Eats them upside, so they eat everything up outside. The interesting part, however, is how they attempt to fix this problem. How do they sparkle like hollywood stars? How can they possibly make themselves look "sexy"?

THE SOLUTION:

OF COURSE!!!!! THE LITTLE BLACK GLASSES!!!!!!
These glasses a) make them look smart-sexy so they don't need to work on the rest b) make them look so distinguished and c) eleviate their self-consciousness and turn them into self-righteous pieces of shit with a false sense of entitlement.

THE REAL SOLUTION

Fat people suck and fat people who are happy about being fat suck harder,

Daniel.

p.s. I'm not suggesting that everyone should strive to be a 40lb model so don't give me that shit.

Relaxims!

2009-12-08T11:29:00.000-08:00

Dear Sheep,

Wanna see something?

That's usually what the girls would say to us before they flashed us in grade six or whatever. And then the next day we'd all be like, "Yo! Flashing was puuuuuuuuuunk yesterday dawg."

But you're not getting tits today sheep, you're getting a sneak peak at what we sometimes do when we aren't playing shows... we make music videos for Maxims.

I know you're all excited and everything, but deep down a part of you is wishing that you were, in fact, getting some tits today. So IMA do you a favour: www.pussy.org/tits.

Here's the real tits though:

See those wonderful and magical shirts we're wearing? (Wonderful fit and magical pussy power). They were made by our dearest pal, Chris Robertson (More commonly referred to as: Cheapy, Chiefy, Chippy or I Love You Chiefy!). We shot the video in his art studio in Montreal (which you're allowed to smoke in by the way) and all of those amazing pieces of art you see in the set were made him. Please check out his work here: www.invisibleninjas.com/chris or at www.monikerdesigns.ca

We respect and admire his work and lifestyle above the work of anyone else (Matt Petitt and Marc Giroux included).

Also, please check out the wonderful people who helped us make a video at www.icanseemybreath.com. Jonathon Sturgeon rules harder that O'Doile.

Keep Rollin' Rollin' Rollin' Rollin',

FUCKYOUDANIELXXXXXXXXXXXXX

That Guy From The "Would You Rather..." Video

2009-12-02T13:34:00.000-08:00

905 867 4501

call andrew and ask about cellulite.

Sundance '010

2009-11-29T14:54:00.000-08:00

Hey sheep,

wanna know something? We're in our van right now, on our way to Montreal to play a free show for Canadian war veterans. Jokes on them though, we're gonna play poorly on purpose because we hate their guts. Me especially. Fuck poppies too.

After that happens we're shooting a music video for MAXIMS. Seriously. And if we glad-hand the right yuppy scum that shit will be all over Much Music in the new year and on to Sundance and Cannes by the summer.

Spice up your life,

Daniel.

What The Fuck Is This?

2009-11-27T21:22:00.001-08:00

Just another reason to punch Oprah in the tits and face!

Empowered. Enlightened. Sympathetic. My fault because I'm Italian. Praise Him. Praise Him.

Dany'all.

p.s. AND YOU GET VASELINE! AND YOU GET VASELINE!

I Take It All Back

2009-11-25T14:13:00.000-08:00

I take it all back. I don't have a problem with any t-shirts that the President is on. They're ironic. I get it now. No no, no need to explain. I understand completely, if you're going to wear shirts that say, "Team Capitalism" and "Team Socialism" you also need a shirt for those days where you can't choose and want to please everyone.

You see:

FACTS

-Made by kids for kids
-Shipped on a Portugese shipping boat across wretched, fierce waters from Malaysia to America.
-Three guys, all named Louis, die on the journey.
-Delivered to a shipping yard in L.A. where ex-cons out on parole are made to work long hours and report to an officer named Seymour Scagnetti who breaks their balls everyday.
-Then, in a great Diaspora, they are distributed all across North America.
-You walk in to Urban Outfitters, think about it for a second, and decide that it's ironic to purchase this garb for no less than $50 dollars because you consider yourself left wing and that mark-up is both ridiculous and deliciously tounge-in-cheek.

But yeah, my bad. Sorry.

Having said that, I still think you're all assholes.

But yo! GTA! We're doing something that could potentially be a lot of fun, but could also blow up in our stupid handsome faces. On December 11th we're putting on a show at Less Than Level bar in Oakville. We've put some wicked bands on the bill with us that are talented or are our friends.

ROTTEN HENDERSON (Talented or friend? Or talented friend? You decide!)- Burlington's answer to Neil Young Fans everywhere. Gritty, educational, political, satirical and professional accoustic rock.

TEQUILA MOCKINGBIRD- Burlington Pop-Punk-Pop. Driving, fun, catchy stuff.

WE ARE BRAVEST- Oakville's best band. Melodic, driving, quirky pop punkish, young and talented.

I AM COMMITTING A SIN- we don't give a fuck.

And after all of that's taken care of we will be performing Blink 182's Enema of the State. That shit's not a rumour. So make sure you come out and sing every fucking line like it's 1999 all over again. As a matter of fact, come to the show and pretend that it is 1999. I wanna see Hurely shirts, trucker hats that aren't made by beer companys, Dickie's shorts, high socks and people who don't know what a blowjob is.

That shit sounds toasty,

Daniel.

Me at 13

2009-11-23T14:39:00.000-08:00

Which Power Ranger was your favourite?
Don't answer that, I don't give a fuck.

Plus it was a trick question anyways and the answer is Zordon.

Our songs are finished. *Applause*. Thanks.
I'm not one to honk J. Koops horn, but that fucking man did an amazing job at making us sound good; and sound good we do.

If we're lucky a song of our choice will be up on myspace pretty soon, so you Busch beer drinking fuck shmucks can hear it in low-fi.

Anyways let me tell you what happened to me today.

I wrote this play. It's called, "The Body Without Corgans". It's about my post-pumpkin adolescence and my re-pumpkin early manhood.

The Body Without Corgans- by Daniel Guy Tremblay

GARCIN (enters, accompanied by the VALET, and glances around him): So here we are? VALET: Yes, Mr. Garcin.
GARCIN: And this is what it looks like?
VALET: Yes.
GARCIN: Second Empire furniture, I observe... Well, well, I dare say one gets used to it in time.
VALET: Some do, some don't.
GARCIN: Are all the rooms like this one?
VALET: How could they be? We cater for all sorts: Chinamen and Indians, for instance. What use would they have for a Second Empire chair?
GARCIN: And what use do you suppose I have for one? Do you know who I was?...Oh, well, it's no great matter. And, to tell the truth, I had quite a habit of living among furniture that I didn't relish, and in false positions. I'd even come to like it. A false position in a Louis-Philippe dining room-- you know the style?--well, that had its points, you know. Bogus in bogus, so to speak.
VALET: And you'll find that living in a Second Empire drawing-room has its points. GARCIN: Really?...Yes, yes, I dare say...Still I certainly didn't expect-- this! You know what they tell us down there?
VALET: What about?
GARCIN: About...this- er--residence.
VALET: Really, sir, how could you believe such cock-and-bull stories? Told by people who'd never set foot here. For, of course, if they had--
GARCIN: Quite so. But I say, where are the instruments of torture?
VALET: The what?
GARCIN: The racks and red-hot pincers and all the other paraphernalia?
VALET: Ah, you must have your little joke, sir.
GARCIN: My little joke? Oh, I see. No, I wasn't joking. No mirrors, I notice. No windows. Only to be expected. And nothing breakable. But damn it all, they might have left me my toothbrush!
VALET: That's good! So you haven't yet got over your--what-do-you-call-it?--sense of human dignity? Excuse my smiling.
GARCIN: I'll ask you to be more polite. I quite realize the position I'm in, but I won't tolerate...
VALET: Sorry, sir. No offense meant. But all our guests aske me the same questions. Silly questions, if you'll pardon my saying so. Where's the torture-chamber? That's the first thing they ask, all of them. They don't bother their heads about the bathroom requisites, that I can assure you. But after a bit, when they've got their nerve back, they start in about their toothbrushes and what-ot. Good heavens, Mr. Garcin, can't you use your brains? What, I ask you, would be the point of brushing your teeth?
GARCIN: Yes, of course you're right. And why shouild one want to see oneself in a looking- glass? But that bronze contraption on the mantelpiece, that's another story. I suppose there will be times when I stare my eyes out at it. Stare my eyes out--see what I mean?...All right, let's put our cards on the table. I assure you I'm quite conscious of my position. Shall I tell you what it feels like? A man's drowning, choking, sinking by inches, till only his eyes are just above water. And what does he see? A bronze atrocity by-- what's the fellow's name?--Barbedienne. A collector's piece. As in a nightmare. That's their idea, isn't it?...No, I suppose you're under orders not to answer questions; and I won't insist. But don't forget, my man, I've a good notion of what's coming to me, so don't you boast you've caught me off my guard. I'm facing the situation, facing it. So that's that; no toothbrush. And no bed, either. One never sleeps, I take it?
VALET: That's so.
GARCIN: Just as I expected. WHY should one sleep? A sort of drowsiness steals on you, tickles you behind the ears, and you feel your eyes closing-- but why sleep? You lie down on the sofa and-- in a flash, sleep flies away. Miles and miles away. So you rub your eyes, get up, and it starts all over again.
VALET: Romantic, that's what you are.
GARCIN: Will you keep quiet, please! ...I won't make a scene, I shan't be sorry for myself, I'll face the situation, as I said just now. Face it fairly and squarely. I son't have it springing at me from behind, before I've time to size it up. And you call that being "romantic!" So it comes to this; one doesn't need rest. Why bother about sleep if one isn't sleepy? That stands to reason, doesn't it? Wait a minute, there's a snag somewhere; something disagreeable. Why, now, should it be disagreeable? ...Ah, I see; it's life without a break.
Could hell be described as too much of anything without a break? Are variety, moderation and balance instruments we use to keep us from boiling in any inferno of excess,' whether it be cheesecake or ravenous sex?
VALET: What are you talking about?
GARCIN: Your eyelids. We move ours up and down. Blinking, we call it. It's like a small black shutter that clicks down and makes a break. Everything goes black; one's eyes are moistened. You can't imagine how restful, refreshing, it is. Four thousand little rests per hour. Four thousand little respites--just think!...So that's the idea. I'm to live without eyelids. Don't act the fool, you know what I mean. No eyelids, no sleep; it follows, doesn't it? I shall never sleep again. But then--how shall I endure my own company? Try to understand. You see, I'm fond of teasing, it's a second nature with me-- and I'm used to teasing myself. Plaguing myself, if you prefer; I don't tease nicely. But I can't go on doing that without a break. Down there I had my nights. I slept. I always had good nights. By way of compensation, I suppose. And happy little dreams. There was a green field. Just an ordinary field. I used to stroll in it...Is it daytime now?
VALET: Can't you see? The lights are on.
GARCIN: Ah, yes, I've got it. It's your daytime. And outside?
VALET: Outside?
GARCIN: Damn it, you know what I mean. Beyond that wall.
VALET: There's a passage.
GARCIN: And at the end of the passage?
VALET: There's more rooms, more passages, and stairs.
GARCIN: And what lies beyond them?
VALET: That's all.
GARCIN: But surely you have a day off sometimes. Where do you go?
VALET: To my uncle's place. He's the head valet here. He has a room on the third floor. GARCIN:I should have guessed as much. Where's the light-switch?
VALET:There isn't any.
GARCIN:What? Can't one turn off the light?
VALET:Oh, the management can cut off the current if they want to. But I can't remember their having done so on this floor. We have all the electricity we want.
GARCIN:So one has to live with one's eyes open all the time?
VALET: To live, did you say?
GARCIN: Don't let's quibble over words. With one's eyes open. Forever. Always broad daylight in my eyes-- and in my head. And suppose I took that contraption on the mantelpiece and dropped it on the lamp-- wouldn't it go out?
VALET: You can't move it. It's too heavy.
GARCIN: You're right. It's too heavy.
VALET: Very well, sir, if you don't need me any more, I'll be off.
GARCIN: What? You're going? Wait. That's a bell, isn't it? And if I ring, you're bound to come?
VALET: Well, yes, that's so-- in a way. But you can never be sure about that bell. There's something wrong with the wiring, and it doesn't always work.
GARCIN: It's working all right. VALET: So it is. But I shouldn't count on it too much if I were you. It's-- capricious. Well, I really must go now. Yes, sir?
GARCIN: No, never mind. What's this?
VALET: Can't you see? An ordinary paper-knife.
GARCIN: Are there books here?
VALET: No.
GARCIN: Then what's the use of this? Very well. You can go. (Garcin is by himself. He goes to the bronze ornament and strokes it reflectively. He sits down; then gets up, goes to the bell-push, and presses the button. The bell remains silent. He tries two or three times, without success. Then he tries to open the door, also without success. He calls the VALET several times, but gets no result. He beats the door with his fists, still calling. Suddenly he grows calm and sits down again. At the same moment the door opens and INEZ enters, followed by the VALET)
VALET:Did you call, sir?
GARCIN: (About to answer "yes", but sees INEZ and says) No.
VALET: This is your room, madam. If there's any information you require--? Most of our guests have quite a lot to ask me. But I won't insist. Anyhow, as regards the toothbrush, and the electric bell, and that thing on the mantelshelf, this gentleman can tell you anything you want to know as well as I could. We've had a little chat, him and me. (Exits.) INEZ: Where's Florence? Didn't you hear? I asked you about Florence. Where is she? GARCIN: I haven't an idea.
INEZ: Ah, that's the way it works, is it? Torture by separation. Well, as far as I'm concerned, you won't get anywhere. Florence was a tiresome little fool, and I shan't miss her in the least.
GARCIN: I beg your pardon. Who do you suppose I am?

It's pretty unbelievable and I totally wrote it in an hour. The thesis is: I'm sooooooooo weird!!!!!!

Fuck you Nobel Association, your chairs are fucking uncomfortable and I deserved to win in the field of everything. I should definately win the literature award this year. I'm up against Obama's play in one act, "Hope is Dope".

Here's an excerpt:

Obama: I'm the greatest. I'm on every MTV VJ's t-shirt. Right?

'Merica: Hooray!!

White 'Merica: Only half of us like you.

FIN.

-Daniel

Yo, London

2009-11-18T15:34:00.000-08:00

Dear London,

how are you? That's great. And the kids? All dead, huh.....? That's terrible. Sorry.

Let's get down to it though.

Due to personal circumstances, we have regretfully cancelled our show in your town tonight. We're all extremely sorry, myself especially, and will make it up to you in Decemeber when we visit with Protest the Hero.

This is as sincere as I get: I'm sorry.

See you all in a month.

God doesn't bless,

Daniel.

Just A Speculative Fiction

2009-11-13T11:31:00.000-08:00

They're down with me, don't ask why.

Answer to the big question

2009-11-09T15:07:00.000-08:00

Aren't we all just driving in the rain?

Giving Oprah the Sharpshooter

2009-11-02T17:09:00.000-08:00

googling (google-ing? googlowing? jew-blowing?) "jokes about octo-mom" proved to be less rewarding than I'd hoped and now I'm left with nothing to say and a bunch of white space to deal with.

To the empty page, David Duchovny! Cheers!

So I heard from Rebecca that you've all been asking how our string of dates in The 'Merica (copyright) was and I'm afraid I'm going to have to answer your question with another question- what the fuck kind of question was that?

You're right, it's a pretty valid one. So I'll reluctantly answer it. You're welcome.

The shows got better as we went along. I'm not going to blow fairy dust up your piss pipe and tell you that they all ruled, because they didn't. Vermont sucked really hard. We had a really great time in Syracuse, New Haven and Allentown though. So there. Take the good with the bad and put down that fucking batman toy already, you're 17!

Actually, I ran into Oprah at the mall in Allentown. That's three times now. I avoided making eye contact for as long as I could, but she's got this thing about her, you know...you just have to look....down there....it's weird because you're sure she'll have a fupa...but it's only a little one....so you ask yourself...."does....she......wear....a...girdle....or....did....the fupa's cells mutate and separate from the rest of her body and become a regular sized person on their....own?" So anyways, after staring at her Fat Upper Pussy Area for like 6 minutes I finally look up at her face and find myself right smack in the middle of one of her fucking boring speeches.

She's all, "Daniel there's a difference between giving birth and getting birth and unless you open your heart up to the possibility of both and to love, faith and jay-sus you will never become an empowered african-american female. Now get in this time machine because you're all getting tiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiime machiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiines!"

I told her to go back in time to when I didn't punch her in the tits and punched her in the tits and face really hard.

So, that's how the fucking states were.

Come see us play in Ontario a lot in a couple of weeks. Check our myspace for the dates.

-Xpac.

All the jobs Americans have lost to Mexicans.

2009-10-19T13:02:00.000-07:00

I'm broke.

Here's some shit you can employ me to do.

1. Feed your parrot (no robins).
2. Feed your dog cats (no cat-dogs, evokes too many memories)
3. Walk your brothers to daycare and pick them up from daycare after they've had a full day of care.
4.Get Bill to teach you about punk.
5. Beat up your shitty friend who wears the "titty inspector" t-shirt ("boob man", "twat guy", "Mr. Beer" and any stereos t-shirts included)
6. Catch your mommy kissing santa.
7. Play chess against your russian dad (no pollacks)

-Danielo

Der Guten Tag Hop-Clop

2009-10-15T17:09:00.000-07:00

Hey! You! You with the fake glasses! What? No, no, come on don't give me that shit, I can see that they're fake! Shut up! I know they're fake and I also happen to know that you're vinyl collection is really your dads. Are you gonna listen already? Good.

Take out your headphones and put whatever you're dancing (like you fuck) to on pause. Then make some room on your iPod because we're recording your new favourite songs next week!

We're gonna crank out three new songs with guitars and drums and me so you can remember why it is your pants are so tight. You've been side swooping your hair for too long, push it aside and look! It's been hiding that chip on your shoulder. These songs aren't for you monkey junkies, they're for that chip!

I feel like I'm a character in an absurdist play or film or something because I'm on a train. That makes me such a piece of shit. Fuck. Look what you did to me Wes Anderson.

-Dr. Doom

Condoms

2009-10-11T14:53:00.000-07:00

Let's wrap it up!

We got home at 6:00amish paradise yesterday. It was a pretty sad thing because we'd only just began to tap the potential of our most recent joke. That joke being an Indian-English man named Nic Mugget. Whatever, we'll throw it on the shelf for later tours.

Let me tell you though. Let me even tell you! We had a fucking blast. Those 14,000 kilometers just flew right by. We had fun playing with friends and for new friends and have put together a list of thank you's. Here it is.

Fuck you's and Thank you's:

1. Thank you: The Doug (our van), for only needing 2 oil changes the whole time and being a comfy place to sleep and smoke. You rule!

2. Fuck you: Tim the Tool Man Trailer (our trailer), for being a big pussy and making our lights not work very frequently. You wreak of shit.

3. Thank you: The Po-9, for not noticing our trailers fuck up and pulling us over.

4. Fuck you: The Po-9, for being the Po-9.

5. Thank you: A Day To Remember, Ten Second Epic and Kingdoms for being wicked pals and having van wars n' shit.

6. Fuck you: Venues that took merch rate.

7. Thank you: Venues that took merch rate, for being incompetent. I fucked you over so many times!

8. Fuck you: Uma Thurman, you can sing so well and you never do it! Audiences really love a G-String.

9. Thank you: Silverstein, for giving us the oportunity!

10. Fuck you: North Bay.

11. Thank you: Brenden Rivera, you are an amazing dude and will explode in '010. Right after your music explodes.

12. Fuck you: Dick Lords.

And to the rest of you! We're only taking a short break to record some fucked up good songs. We'll be back out in November playing a lot of Ontario dates so as not to neglect our pals and fans. Check our myspace because we'll most likely be playing your town!

Here's some new lyrics I just wrote and didn't steal from Mel Brooks.

Germany was having trouble
What a sad, sad story
Needed a new leader
To restore its former glory
Where, oh where was he?
Where could that man be?
We looked around
And then we found
The man for you and me
And now it's
Springtime for IACAS and germany
Deutschland is happy and gay
We're marching to a faster pace
Look out!!
Here comes the master race
Springtime for IACAS and germany
Winter for poland and france
Springtime for IACAS and germany
Come on, germans
Go into your dance

I was born in dusseldorf
And that is why they call me rolf
Don't be stupid, be a smarty
Come and join the punk-ass party
Springtime for IACAS and germany
Goosestep's the new step today
Bombs falling from the skies again
Deutschland is on the rise again
Springtime for IACAS and germany
Uboats are sailing once more
Springtime for IACAS and germany
Means that soon we'll be going
We've got to be going
You know we'll be going to war

Food!

-Daniel Glover

2009-10-04T15:39:00.000-07:00

Let me tickle the funny bone in your dick for a while here.

So we just finished the dates with Silverstein and Ten Second Epic and are kind of bummed. The three weeks we spent with those sweaty, hairless mother fuckers have been way too much fun. Paul hits his drums hard while Shane sings a million songs and Andrew gets perpetually sweatier and blonder while Sandy thinks about hockey players from the 90s and rocks the fuck out. Does that not sound like fun to you? S'what I thought.

I don't know how long it will be before we get to share the stage with T.S.E. again, but we've got some dates booked with Silverstein in late October and we're going to shred those grampa's in a road hockey game when we get home in a week. Location T.B.A. (The Back Alley [of Canadian Tire at Appelby and Upper Middle]).

Let's talk shoppe though.

Music. We write it. And we record it too. On October 20th or something. We're recording three new-ass songs that will blow the banal, generic pop-punk-hardcore-metal right out of your iPod. But let's be real, you're a hipster and the only reason that it's there in the first place is because you think it's ironic. Fuck!

We're going back into B-Town Sizzound to work with ol' J. Koop. We like it there because he's pleasant and good at his job. Also, it's close to Licks and Rue Todd smokes like we do.

Wanna sneak peak of some shit? Like, shit, shit?

The Topics we discuss on these new songs that you'll love because I love them:

1. "Reform" Homosexual Christians- Who are you fooling? Pull that God's dick out of your mouth you lieing peice of...hello!

2. The death of music- Bands that sellout their creativity to write songs for screaming girls or hair straightening 14 year old dudes who appreciate music by pulling their dick out at shows and waving it to their friends as they "mosh". Fuck you.

3. Galileo- The guy's my hero. 'Nough said (then I spit on the floor).

So that's what you get because that's what I feel like talking about.

Here's some poetry my dog could write:

Treats?
Where have the treats gone?
Daniel used to give them to me, but now he's not home.
So where have my treats gone?
For that matter, where have my nuts gone?
Treats??

Still not done.

Welcome to the jungle deadfuck.

-"You're pretty good, but Daniel crushes you."

This. Means. Oh fuck, do you guys remember Means? That band was alright I guess.

2009-10-01T15:40:00.000-07:00

W- witchcraft
I- witchcraft
T- witchcraft
C- witchcraft
H- witchcraft
C- witchcraft
R- witchcraft
A- witchcraft
F- witchcraft
T- witchcraft

That's going to be my non-denominational winter holiday present to my senior kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Busilowicz. We keep in touch because she has to remind me not to tell grown-ups about what we did in the sandbox after school. Plus she's got cool-pretty hair.

Kingdoms keeps throwing shit at our van so I've plotted this retaliation. Don't worry, they don't read this. We'll be cool.

It'd be cooler if this list was in crayon.

Kindgoms Fight Club 2:

1. Meet the birds.
2. Appear approachable and friendly to the birds.
3. Befriend the birds by honouring them with discarded poutine served on a stone altar somewhere with a lot of shade.
4. Have a falling out with the birds (disagreement on geo-political interests of the US and the right to sovereignty of rogue states).
5. Go to a bar I know the birds are at.
6. Debate going in said bar for 26 minutes.
7. Go in the bar and order enough shots to make me say just about anything.
8. Walk to the juke box.
9. Fall over.
10. "Get up Rock".
11. Put on "I Want to Break Free".
12. Sing my heart out to an empty bar, save the bar tender and a waitress from Missouri who is dating the birds.
13. Kill the bees.
14. Befriend the birds by way of the waitress telling them about what I did and how much of a wreck I've become in their absense.
15. Dance and smoke with the birds.
16. Ask the birds to shit on Kingdoms van.
17. Punch Hutton.

Sounds full proof, right? Bullet proof even. Which is good because I think Kingdoms have guns.

Thanks Allah't.

-Danir

Once upon a tour.

2009-09-29T15:40:00.000-07:00

What's the difference between Sarah Palin's mouth and her vagina?

:)

Only half of what comes out of her vagina is retarded!

Science aside, you should guess how our tour is going.

1000 dollars? 2000 dollars? 850 dollars? Well?

You're closest without going over with "well".

Kingdoms just hopped right on this shit, so things are going fast, heavy, technical, Hutton singing, and good sweeps. In case you were worried, people kind of like us out here. Especially in the great cities of Toronto, Montreal and Quebec.

I actually fell in love with Quebec city and not just because of the rain, hail and wind making my shoes wet. The kids there were unbelievable. Not because they threw their junk around to breakdowns (in case you stupids were thinking that). Because they applauded technicality. I've never experienced that before at one of our shows. It was refreshing and amazing to see people actually listening to live music.

Hold on, I gotta bbm Jemma.

Back. She's good. Hot too.

So yeah, Quebec ruled even harder when I got to see one of my favourite bands play soon after us. That band being A Wilhelm Scream. Canada's biggest mallpunk band played too. So much gel.
What else? I haven't done this in a while so I'm rusty, fusty, dusty and crusty over here. Let me think about this over a bite of the pizza Danny just gave me.

That pizza rules! I had Pizza Hut last night too.

Oh how about this!

Some Swiss officials finally got to see these American tourists that have been detained in Iran for like 3 months the other day. I read a BBC article about it today. And the entire piece was pretty much about this summit that's going to happen in Europe between Iran and the world soon and how they're going to talk about nuclear shit instead of those people being held. Is that important to you? Nah. Sorry.

Dick. Piss. Fart. Mosh. Yell. Sing. Yell. Yell. Yell. Yell. Yell. Blink 182. Yell. Stereos. Yell. Yell. Yell. Yell. Scream. Yell. Mosh. Mosh. Mosh. Ass. Cum. Yell. Yell. Yell. Poo. Andrew. Yell. Kings of Leon. Yell. Yell.

-Daniel is a piece of Yell. Yell. Yell. Yell.

2009-09-23T16:28:00.000-07:00

New play idea.

Piece of shit redneck (confederate, conservative, creationist, American): Hey wanna go to the bar?

Piece of shit redneck (conservative, moose hunting, creationist, from Northern Ontario): Of course, because we're cut from the same bullshit cloth. I bet you're fat, ugly and have the mental vigor of a slug with downssyndrome too.

I'm stoked to be back in civilization in a couple of hours. And to leave this mess of gun slinging retards for the government to deal with. Keep shooting them cash and let's hope they buy enough booze to finally sodomize and kill each other for a change.

Next time we drive through here I'd like to see the same 18 hours of trees and lakes only broken up by piles and piles of shit, lube, and cum covered camo pants where these shit stain hick towns used to be.

Swallow that with your seven bud lights in the passenger seat you oakley wearing twat!

Peace!

-daniel fucking makes you laugh.

2009-09-16T18:35:00.000-07:00

Hahaha funny thing. But not that funny.

So, I'm sitting here at Bruno's merch table taking it all in. You know? With my eyes, ears and whatever. You should know that it's not just plain old anything that I'm taking in either. Not ducks on a pond, oh no. And not traffic, or porn, or even your mom cooking soup. It's some really great music because we're on tour with some amazing bands right now.

I should be stoked right? I am. Almost entirely. But there's tiny little annoyance that just keeps bringing me the fuck down.

"Oh do tell Brune!"

Sure thing.

I saw like 5 fights during several sets tonight. 5! Am I fucking kidding you?! Not in the least you piece of shit.

This mind set is really bugging me. The macho, chauvanistic and frankly barbaric notion that you can't enjoy music without killing each other has got me on my last nerve.

If you can't express your appreciation for music in a positive way then you are a fucking plug and should have to eat kim jong il's tiny rabbit shits for the rest of your days.

I'm not condemning aggression, or bands who play aggressive music. I play in one of those bands and believe me we don't appreciate you stealing our spotlight with your bullshit. I'm condemning meat headed cave men throwing fits and ruining shows for people.

And they're ruining music for me.

Smarten the fuck up.

-daniel

Pants, Meet Shit

2009-09-10T17:15:00.000-07:00

I remember it wasn't my cousins, but family friends. The kind you grow up with, the kind you spend time with because you have no one else to spend time with. You call them best friends, but you grow out of them...soon. It was one of those nights spending time together because your parents had made it so. We were playing as we usually did, while my mother made her specialty dish: chicken fingers. They weren't typical chicken fingers. There was a measure of care foreign to the fabrication of any simple dish such as this; she made them with pure grain fed chicken dipped in organic egg yolk, rolled in a cocktail of flour and imported Italian bread crumbs. The smell was tantilizing. As we played the notion of sinking my baby teeth into these succulant morsels of chicken nagged...from the back of my head. I continued the charade of passing the ball, or what-have-you, any childs game, waiting for the sweet serenity of my mother's voice calling, "dinner time". We scurried from the play room, which was painted garrishly and dented from mispleased heads and toy planes, to the kitchen where the requisite kids table awaited us. I remember feeling sleighted, even at a young age, when I was forced to sit at this table; it wasn't just an umwanted wooden table, or even a fold out table (which would be common for situations like this), but a children's picnic table made out of plastic. It was many different colours and smelled of pee. But tonight I cast this discontent to the side for what awaited me at this acrimonious table for those glowing chicken fingers.

We devoured them with such fervor shared only mad men could. I must have had at least three helpings that night. Being a child in need of something with which to occupy myself I, along with these family friends, hurridly left the kitchen without a "thank you" or even a look of gratefulness. I knew there would be a post-meal lull, but being a rather precocious child, I took steps to ensure that tonight would be a night to remember.

We chose my bedroom rather than the playroom, because like the table the playroom reeked of pee. Tonight I thought to myself, "Andrew, let's be bold." In a bust of spontanaeity, I plugged in a lonley radio that sat sterile and unused on my dresser. I fiddled furiously with the knobs until it produced beautiful music. It was beautiful because to a group of eight year olds, any music is beautiful. What I would give to go back to those days. With a certain entreprenurial spirit I began to flail my limbs wildy- what the hip call dancing. Naturally, my friends follow suit. We danced passionately and at length, soaking our brows and my green sweat suit in its name sake. While this dancing brought levity and laughs, pressure building around my pelvis and calves mixed a measure of panic with the joy I was feeling. This was a pivotal moment, for I had to make a life changing decision: do I pause to excrete the biproduct of those glorious chicken fingers or do I press on in the name of the dance? And press on I did. I fooled myself that night into thinking my anus was a vice grip, for when I leapt into the air and crashed down I felt release, not the product of my tribal gestures. With terrifying immediacy my green sweat pants filled with three servings of shit.

Now at this point you, reader, would have cut your losses. You would have taken the weighty walk of shame to the bathroom and scooped the fruits of your labour from those forest green pants. But I, I did something very important for myself: I danced on.

So when life fills your pants with a kilogram of shit, don't cry for your mother: dance on.

-dictated by Andrew Basso

"My Nipples Look Like Milk Duds"

2009-09-08T19:30:00.001-07:00

Wanna go for a ride? Well you can't. Because our van is fucking full.

But let's break it down like my friend Hector did for me in grade two. Or wait did I do it for him? Yeah! I was totally his mentor! You see, Mrs. Quee (seriously) was a South Korean grade two teacher that I had growing up in a very European part of Toronto: Dufferin and Bloor.

You see kids after the second world war, a once beautiful papal despotism, turned rogue republican military state, turned fascist dicatatorship now known as Italy was totally fucked. Like most of Europe, it's infastructures were destroyed and all of it's inhabitants were covered in their own shit. So, people like my Nonno and Nonna decided to say "fuck you" to that mess and hopped on a plane to Canada, or whatever. They we're totally stoked (and wrong) about being able to live in a shit-free country so they sang that Andrea Boccelli song over and over and over again until they got here. Some of them even went blind singing it (ex. my Zio Pepe). Get it? They were totally stoked. WRONG! Because as soon as they got here, the White "People" said, "Yo Greasy-Wop-Chop (a lot of them were Portugese too), pick up a shovel and let me kick you a little bit." So my Nonno did that. He picked up the shovel, took a kick right in the ass from old man government and moved along. Then, when all the Europeans collected enough dimes and were able to afford houses, the Whiteys told us to move to Dufferin and Bloor. So we fucking did.

My area smelled like fish and pasta and dark black body hair growing up.

True fucking story. I've still got the shovel.

Anyways, after I came out head first I was really good at spelling. I'd always finish first in the class and Mrs. Quee would say, "TEACH HECTOR!". So I'd break it down for that little guy. He wore a shirt with a Hippo on it and I pissed my pants twice that year.

So let me break it down for all you Hectors out there:

1. We play Whitby tomorrow with Fear Before. Stoked.
2. We leave for Uncle Sam's Land on Thursday.
3. We pickup our new custom Emperor Cabs on Friday.
4. We play Chicago that day too.
5. This all means tour is starting like right now! FUCKLE at my KNUCKLE!

Thanks, you've been great.

Da(d)niel.

let me tell you about my secret best friend. shit?

2009-09-05T15:12:00.000-07:00

Whoaaaaaaaa!

I'm back. S'bin a while, yo?

"Fuck, give it to me straight doc." I said with haste. I never cared much for Dr. Sapra's tendency to keep me in limbo while he spewed his pretentious medical school bullshit into his old black tape recorder.
"Alright." He said, and turned facing me. He took in a great deal of air and while deflating he dropped this bomb on me, "you have acne and we're putting you on acutane."

A year later I was handsome again, although still kind of chunky.

A year later I dropped some of that whole chicken, spicy chicken, McChicken weight and now I feel prettay, prettay, prettay good.

Fuck, what was this blog about? You're lucky my tangents are funny or you'd be bored right about now. He remembers! This blog is about my secret best friend: our van. And that's a convenient frienship to have, because I'll be all up inside him for a long time pretty soon (secret friends with benefits). That's 'cause we'll be leaving for our kross kanada kruise pretty soon. You might call it a (k)tour. I don't, though.

You should know we're stoked to play for some fresh new faces and in mass quantaties. It's a welcomed change. We'll be storming Silverstein's(tm) bus naked nightly and will probably starve to death. If I get real hungry I'm gonna kill Andrew, bring his blood to a boil and have bass player fondu. Gross!?!?!¤€¥!?! Fuck you! It's a joke asshole. I need that stonky homie for melody reference.

What'd you learn in the army man?,

Daniel.

P.s. Pointy Spikes.

Don't forget, Charlton Heston is still dead.

2009-08-25T08:40:00.000-07:00

Here's where I come in!

Pretty soon, two weeks or so-ish-maybe-about, we're leaving Ontario. For some of us, we're leaving Mookie, for others we're leaving Owen, and for Andrew we're leaving Scambie behind. This might be Scambie's last Christmas so Andrew has locked himself in his room with her for about a week now. He's been living off of cold re-frieds and she's been "living" off of the plastic spoons. It's fucking crushing.

Dogs aside, and Dawgs in mind we're stoked to get back on the road, especially with our greatest pals. More than anything I'm excited for the vegan restaurants and free coffee from Bill and Paul. But keep that D.L. But more than anything I'm excited to do some fucked up shit in the Bible belt. Who the fuck knows what I'm gonna do? Not Bruno. But let me tell you, it's going to shake those squares right out of their lay-z-boys and into their stupid churches. Assholes.

We had a fantastic time growing closer to SRTL (Turtle) and Dead and Divine (Kellan and the Deads) on our last tour, I should add. Speak like a Jewish guy, I'm doing. So....that's your hero (me). I honestly believe that both of those bands will conquer the world in one way or another. Musical or Nuclear; better them than you.

Pee break.

fuck it.

Adam Sandler's cousin's cousin's cousin's cousin is Adam Sandler.

That's a Metaphor!

-Daniel's cousin's cousin's cousin's cousin' is Daniel

Elephant Shit

2009-08-12T16:19:00.001-07:00

I suggest you guys try spelling "blogspot" incorrectly once and a while; you might find yourself at a much cooler website (http://www.blogpsot.com).

Ever watch CTS late at night? There's a show that's co-hosted by this wrinkly baffoon with eyes like anal beads some woman who's wearing her weight in make-up and speaks like kindergarten teacher. I feel like one of them is responsible for this website and if you're due for a laugh or want to start smoking again you should take a peruse.

Highlights include:

-the audio site intro
-testimony on the front page
-"article proving the bible is true"

-the homosexuality section
-Here's a teaser: "God clearly and unmistakably shows in Romans that those who practice homosexuality and lesbianism are worthy of death"

The "Cults" section is it's own highlight reel too. It's basically a list of every religion imaginable, continents, and any NGO with the word "Christ" in their name, which apparently doesn't sit to well with the super-guy in the sky.

These all appear on the list and I sware I'm not taking any liberties here.

"ABOVE AMBIANT NOISE LEVEL (AANL) COMMUNICATIONS
AFRICA (General information)
AGNOSTIC
ALAMO CHRISTIAN FOUNDATION
ANCESTOR WORSHIP"

and those are only the first five!

"ARTHUR FORD"

that's just a guy's name!

"BLACK MUSLIM" is on the list, but so is "MUSLIMS (BLACK) (See Black Muslim)". Apparently it's confusing.

And in case you've thought I was wrong about anything in our songs, "NEW THOUGHT" is also on the list.

I want to end this part, I really do, but they just keeping making me laugh:

"RAINBOW GIRLS"

and

"SUPERSTITIONS: BREAKING A MIRROR
SUPERSTITIONS: FEAR OF BLACK CATS
SUPERSTITIONS: GOOD LUCK CHARMS
SUPERSTITIONS: SALT OVER SHOULDER"

Now I understand that this site probably doesn't speak for your average Christian, so you may be upset with me for judging all "believers" by their very obviously lowest common denominator. Yeah. Maybe. But, I don't fucking care. It makes me laugh :) and this isn't an essay for school.

I'm fucking cheeky,

Daniel ("ATHEIST", "I AM MOVEMENT", "NEW AGE THINKING", "NEW THOUGHT", "SUPERSTITIONS: GOOD LUCK CHARMS").

P.S.

dumb. you're being dumb.

2009-08-07T19:27:00.000-07:00

Here's something. Kind of a rant, maybe an open letter, doesn't matter. What matters is that I'm pretty pissed right now. So here it goes.

Dear kids,

How are you? Well? Good? Bad? How the fuck am I supposed to know if you're just standing there, arms crossed with an apathetic face hidden behind your swooped hair? I hate the fact that I'm going to sound like a jaded old scene guy here, but you've pushed me to it. I remember a time, kids, oh I remember a time when going to shows made people excited. And why not be excited about being there? We all go there voluntarily, so that means in one way or another we want to be there. And maybe you aren't there for every band, but that's irrelevant when it comes to respect and gratitude. By merely stepping onto that stage, every musician at the show has earned your applause and you should be happy to give it.

If I can be brutally honest here for a second, I also want to talk to you about variety. You've been fooled kids. Your friends' highschool bands have fooled you into thinking that the reason to write or listen to music is for one thing and one thing alone: breakdowns. Don't think for one fucking second that I'm condemning any band who plays them because that's not the case. I'm telling you that enduring a half hour of music for the chance to kick and punch during a total of 5 minutes of a band's set is moronic.

Open yourself up to new things and uncross your fucking arms. There is a world of sonic bliss outside of chugs.

LaSenza Hurl

2009-08-06T10:47:00.000-07:00

Hey but like how David Schwimmer would say it,

I came on here with the intention of just blogging away or writing my memoirs only to realize the that empty space in this typing field is pretty daunting. Reason why: I don't really have anything to say. I started freaking out, you know? Like how you freak out when you're cooking an 11 course meal and all the soups you were making start to boil over at the same time. Then you feel like an idiot for making 6 of the 11 courses soup. All you're left with is a burnt bisque, a mutilated medley, a vexing vegetable variety and a piece of shit stew. It's fucked.

Now, as I start this paragraph I'm very aware that people who blog rarely have shit to say anyways. They just type away about inane rubbish and hope for the best while name dropping the newest celebrity baby imports or talk about being mormon.

This space is filling up quickly. Let's keep going. With this anecdote:

So I was waiting for my UPS package this morning while living in Utah, just minding my own mormon business (and business is good) when I realized that my coffee sucked-way too translucent. And my day only got worse from there. When I finally got my package I was a little disappointed. Apparently there was a mix-up at the headquarters or whatever because I didn't get the book on Joseph Smith I had ordered ("Joseph Smith Rules" by Mitt Romney). It did, however, take me a while to come to that realization. The man who dropped it off was a tall and slender fellow, who spoke with a alot of brio and vigor about things like the weather and weeping willows. He was so charming that I didn't notice the delivery box being of superfluous size to contain just a little old book. So away I signed and onward to make more deliveries this gusto filled garcon went. I opened the box and my day continued in its weird direction. First problem: the instructions were in Namibian and I really couldn't understand what I was assembling (at this point I didn't think it at all odd to be assembling a book). It took me a good 4 hours to finish the job simply because I had but an elementary understanding of the language. As soon as I finished my celebratory cigarette was interupted once I took a final"once-over" of my completed project. It wasn't a book by Mitt Romney at all, it was a baby! A real live baby that only slightly resembled a book. Boy was I in a bind. I checked the mailing address and low and be hold it was supposed to go to Ashley Tisdale in Malibu. Shit, right?! So I called up a mutual friend, got "the Tiz" on the phone and straightened it all out. I sent her the babe and she's gonna zip the book over right after she finishes (I couldn't say no to that nose).

So that was my day and my night will be in St. Catharines playing a show. Come hang if you wan't me to tell you what I named the kid.

what the fuck?,

N!Daniel!

Let's make this quick.

2009-07-31T11:40:00.001-07:00

Alright let's hurry up with this because I have to watch License To Grill pretty soon.

I bet you're all as stoked for the August dates as we are, but never-the-less I'm giving you this subtle reminder to buy your tickets for the shows because there will be trouble lest you slack-you may be turned into a flying, frying, jet-pan who misses the show. Those things are weird colours too.

Please check our myspace out for dates because like I said early in the year, we're probably going to hit up your Tim Horton's kind of town.

Bleep bloop,

Daniel

p.s.

Pin Design Olympics (Are you America or Jamaica?)

2009-07-20T11:12:00.001-07:00

Yo!

let's get right into it.

So we're home. That's good you say? Wrong. We want out. Get me out. Back on tour soon. Next question please.

Whats this I hear about a pin design contest?

Wrong again. It's called the Pin Design Olympics and you're disqualified for smoking the reef.
I hope the rest of you will take this more seriously.

Let me give you the skinny.

The skinny:

We here at IACAS are reaching out to the people who we like. That's you. And what we'd like is for you to take your best webdesign skills and hook us up with a pin design. We like pins, but don't like how kids don't wear them anymore. So, we're gonna stir the pot a bit and get things back to where we like them.

What's in it for you?

So you've designed a pin? We absolutely love it and would like to use it? We're going to hook you up with a ton of free merch (t-shirts, posters, cd's etc.) and of course, you get as many pins as you want (limit:3). Sound good? I should hope so. This could be a lot of fun if we get some cool ass designs.

Email your designs to iamcommittingasin@gmail.com!

Sound good? I hope this wasn't too confusing.

DESIGN US A COOL PIN AND GET FREE SHIT! (please)

-Daniel

August Tours Red

2009-07-17T12:27:00.001-07:00

Wait Wait Wait Wait Wait.

Let's not forget about the month of August.

Just to make sure that you guys weren't planning on just waiting around until September to catch us on tour, I'm going to remind you that we're playing all across Ontario this August with our pals in Dead and Divine and Straight Reads the Line. Check out our myspace for show dates and come fuck around to real shit.

There ain't no party like a Liberal Party,

Macho Maniel Randy Savage.

REGINA Spectre and a bat named "Hester"

2009-07-15T14:24:00.000-07:00

This is going to be a bombpay ride because I haven't blogged as much as a Keats' page in a Rhino's age.

So here it goes:

First things obviously first (asshole) is that we're touring the fabulous East Coast of Canada right now with Oceans. I thought it would be as rad as a step-dad who buys you more than your real-dad, but it's been way better than that. Reason why: A Sight For Sewn Eyes. I'd heard this band before we got out here, but after watching them live I'm all-time-fan-number-one-love-them-long-time. Seriously. Please check out this band because they are fucking unreal. Not only that, the are the best dudes. Way better than Jesus! Why would you even ask? Don't be a fucking tool. Seriously though, we're bringing these dudes to Ontario as soon as we can so you can fuck around to their music and meet them. I should mention that playing with Oceans and A.S.F.S.E is better and more entertaining than synchronizing "Hotel California" with Michael Jackson's "funeral". Too many good bands. We went to these places called Eagle's Point (Eagles Clit) as well as Peggy's Cove (Peggy's Clit) yesterday and hung out harder than your level 100 Onix who has used the move harden 30 times in one battle. WHOA!

Thing two:

I'm allowed to tell you, so I will, that this fall IACAS takes the next step (side note: check out www.bangmycousin.com) as a band. We will be touring the entire country of Canada. These dates will be posted on our myspace. There will be amazing bands playing with us. I will be telling you exactly who they are right now. I wont ever stop playing Pokemon.

The bands: Silverstein (where?!) A Day To Remember (what?!) Ten Second Epic (who?!) I Am Committing A Sin (how?!)

That's rude! Why ask us how? That's mean. We work really hard.

Thing three:

The dude is too pro-mac, but you should check out our friend Mark's website. Mark has been riding with us, hanging (the fuck) out and taking beautiful pictures of the maritimes, our sets and just us hanging out. His website is www.marklucianiphoto.com and he can most certainly be googled. Mark is a gentle genius who takes wonderful photos. Please support his work.

This has been a message brought to you by both Robin Williams that time he was on "Whose Line is it Anyways?" and by Free Hot Dogs in Halifax.

But seriously,

Daniel.

We Charted! Check out this shit!

2009-07-08T16:05:00.003-07:00

"Keep you eyes peeled and your legs wide open because the pain train's got a new nickname: Serious Dave".

Some guy said that to me after I solved his riddle.

Then he picked up a tree, lit it on fire and threw it through a fat woman.

Absolutely true anecdotes aside, I came on here to brag because, you see, the band I'm in (Kelly and the I Am Committing A Sins) just debuted on the Canadian Billboard Top 200 at the sexy number 172. We aimed for #1 so we weren't that far off. I believe a congratulatory Taco Bell is in order, so if you've got some spare change send it to Andrew Basso, care of "Taco's". We totally charted (sharted) but are still brokebackmountainmen.

Did you hear about us charting?,

Daniel wants faniels.

godaddy.com/unfortunatecousins

2009-07-06T21:06:00.000-07:00

It was a rainy day in tacoville when my burrito fell into a puddle. I managed to get over the tacoshellshock and picked it up. Then I ate it. A couple of years later I was in oakville and I found this list. It was taped to the door of a church like the 95 theses (maybe 96, but who cares?) only it was typed and written by a guy named Spencer Wasp. Since I'm all about lists lately and am also into playing gay-detectives, I'm posting it up here so you mungduckers can laugh at it with me.

Here comes it:

Things for Uni

1. So much gel
2. Too much addidas body spray, cologne, man-fume, hair cologne, cologne spray, her-logne, spray-tan, tan-fume pre-spray and tiny chin beard wax.
3. Trucker hat from premium 24 that I had to wrastle my daddy for (best two out of three)
4. Plush toy that used to be Chancer's (my dog); gonna tell bitches that shit's been mine since birthday #2.
5.Meth lab full of weed.
6. Ninja turtles bottle opener on a Peter Griffin key chain.
7. Johnny cash wallet.
8. Johnny cash poster in an oasis frame.
9. Biggest t shirt ever with the years that the Rangers won the cup on the back.
10. Winter shorts.
11. Undeserved sense of entitlement.
12. Beads.
13. Toaster to hide condoms in.
14. Stick of butter and bad intentions.
15. Acquired taste for Lakeport.

I think he's right. What's that guy's name who has the one song about being a little suburban fuck who raps about date rape and drugs at college? They should hang out. Together. Inside of a giant microwave. Wearing roca wear t shirts with 18" foil prints.

But here's where shit gets real. Real real. Our rag-time guy pal named Mark "Mark Francis Smith" Smith who has already won the "Best Fucking Guy Award" 8 years not in a row was kind enough to put together a video of some great live footage he took over the course of four shows. Mark put alot of time, effort and love into the video and we want him to know that we both appreciate and reciprocate with high-fives. Thanks a ton Mark, your video rules just as much as you do.

Check out Mark's work!

Straight outta Orangustan,

Daniel.

Hotdoghamburgernotculture?

2009-06-27T15:27:00.000-07:00

Fuck that.

We took Jenny (it's bad luck to have a nameless van so hence forth I'll call it "Jenny") across the mid-west of the United States of Emmurica this week and it's cool because Wayne's World was on T.V. today and I feel like I connected with the people in that movie a little bit more because of it. I wrote down some shit that I saw there so I wouldn't forget to blog about it when I got back, but forgot about what the things I wrote down meant. Maybe you guys can help me out. My notebook looks like this:

Shit I see:

1. Flags make the money, but how much do they cost? Find profit margins.

2. People with hats.

3. People who make their kids pay.

4. When did we get in Indiana?

5. The air smells like air. Who told me that it wouldn't?

6. Was that Kelly's leg or Paul's hair?

7. Is he still playing his saxophone? It's Thursday and I think he started on Monday.

8. Two nickles in the glove box.

9. P.B.T.J.K.L.L.L.T. Sand, which?

10. Need an Iced Tea, or Ice-T?

11. Ice-T got Iced.

12. Thirteen.

Yeah so I don't know.

In anycase, possibly in lowercase, we had a really great time and came out on top. You know what that means? It's a secret.

-Gooniel.

P.S. Do you have two dallers?

Casabahs

2009-06-15T17:11:00.000-07:00

Welcome to the muck muck blue slurpies.

This week we're playing four shows with our younger brothers in Silverstein. So if you live in Windsor, St. Catharines, Chatham, or Brantford (and "or" in that order) come out and sing just loud enough that I can hear it and feel important, but not loud enough that it throws me off. That shit's not cool. There's some cool shit in the world though. Like that scene in Home Alone where the guy says, "keep the change...you filthy animal." Also, pigeons who fly into your ex-girlfriends head while she's walking in downtown Toronto. And the fact that we put a new song on our Myspace today. What? Yeah, fuck it! It's called Apostasy Now! which isn't a pun or anything. No big deal. But seriously, ch-eck it out.

I also wanted to run the first scene of the pilot episode for "My two Pauls" by you punk-loving mother-baters. So here it is. Please remember that this is my first sitcom and any likeness to Seinfeld you might notice is intentional and being used for cred I wish to accomplish among the other sitcom writers. So be kind, dick.

"My Two Pauls"--The Pilot.

An empty apartment decorated in of a sort of nouveau-riche style. The floors are spotless. Two bowls decorative green apples sit perfectly on a glass table in front of a brown faux-leather sofa. Several posters of early punk bands are framed and hung in perfect symmetry along the back four walls which are painted in a flat bright green.

In walks Paul Adam carrying groceries followed by Paul Marc who is helping with the load.

Paul Adam: Haha it's alright. I've told you it before and if I have to, which I shouldn't I'll remind you that this batch is on me.

Paul Marc: I thought Mitch was following us back here. Has he BBM'd you at all today?

Paul Adam: A couple of hours ago. It's a common courtesy.

Paul Marc: What is?

Paul Adam: Nothing. This conversation is getting pretty absurd.

scene.

Shut the fuck up,

Daniel.

Hello my baby, hello my honey, hello my rag-time giiiiiiiiiirl

2009-06-12T13:45:00.000-07:00

The thing you need to understand about Sarah Palin is that anyone who says that they wouldn't gram her is a fucking liar.

Oh hey,

Sorry I was just explaining to Paul and Andrew that they're liars. What's up? Who cares. You came here man, you're asking me that question and not the other way around. So I'll tell YOU what's up. We're working kind of hard at playing as much as we can because we're out of a practice space and loading into my basement is a coldheartedbitch. Also, my dog won't stop licking us. I know, we're looking into it. Get off my back. Needless to say, we're getting tight as pals and as pals with guitars. We're currently about as tight as the Palin kid with a baby and hoping to be as tight as the one without one. That should happen before you see us next so make sure you sing along and circle pit around and around and around and around the mug of punk.

Don't ever say rock and roll (seriously),

Danton.

No pads, no helmets...just sing-off lines

2009-06-09T14:07:00.000-07:00

Maroon 5 used to rule,

Daniel.

Opening the hyms/babies,

Daniel.

Reduced to an improper fraction,

Daniel

Full bodied/complex/spicy,

Daniel.

Did anyone ever like the band "orgy",

Daniel.

Hausto B. Fausto,

Daniel.

Anything can be a sign-off line if you got fucking glorious casabahs,

Andrew.

The Conclusion

2009-06-05T20:07:00.000-07:00

The Conclusion

(A lone figure stands at center stage. He appears to be weeping. To his left: a single wooden chair. To his right: a flock of seaguls fighting over a discarded box of poutine. On the ground: a "Twister" mat except the circles on it have been removed. In fact, it's a carpet. Yeah, a carpet. He begins to pace the stage. Shaking his head and clutching both hands into fists that swing like wrecking balls at his sides. He appears to be wounded. Moaning from side stage builds into groaning from backstage once again building into low-tones from the orchestral pit. The mess of noise grows and grows and (presumably) babies in the audience start to shriek until the zenith of audible sound is reached. Now, "Killing in the name of" by Rage Against The Machine begins to blast out of the speakers! It's all: Dun na na dun na na na dun na na na! And it fucking rules. Everyone starts rocking out and shit and people are totally like, "Holy fuck I remember this song! My uncle showed it to me in like grade fucking seven and I was stooooooooked! What's Zack De La Rocha doing now, anyways?".............it stops before that question can be answered and a spotlight is shone on the lone figure. He speaks thusly.)

Robin Williams when he was on "Whose Line is it Anyways?" that one time and had blonde hair and wore a Hawaiian shirt: Hey we gotta say sorry Mr. President, like who is the lamp? Where is the LAMP? It was a drive-by fruiting. Helpisonthewheeeeeey deary! Helpisonthewheeeeey! I gotta see about a girl. Did you know I was in the movie 'Fern Gully'? My name is Peter Panning, that's my apendix! You better start calling me 'Shaq' not 'Jack'!

Me: Keep going!

R.W.w.h.w.o."W.L.i.i.A?".t.o.t.a.h.b.h.a.w.a.H.s.: After I box them...? The only thing you'll be watching is 'Deep CNN'! Carpe Dentum: seize the teeth! I eat wood! Wanna see my impression of a hot-dog?! This...Is...Spartacus!

Me:

I hope you enjoyed the conclusion of my play. I decided to call it "Brokeahontisbackmountain" for obvious reasons. The real winner here is my producer, Paul. He's put alot of money into it because he wants me to move on to my next project. It's an autobiographical sitcom called, "My Two Pauls". As soon as this hits broadway and off-broadway I'll be running some episodes by the blogspot community. Check that out.

Also,

we're playing the Casbah in Hamilton next week with a rad-ass-motha-fucking-band called Brighter Brightest. If you haven't checked them out you should because they're going to do some wicked things. The last time we played Hamilton, I got drunk off of "Electric Zombies" and had a pretty good time. I'll probably just sing my heart out this time though.

Peace in the Eastern East!

Danye.

P.S. Da na na And now you do what they told ya!

breakblog

2009-06-02T14:03:00.000-07:00

Dear Slugpups,

We just got back from Montreal and I want you all to know that we've never had a better time. The show was unreal, the bagels were cheap, the coffee was thick and strong and our lungs are killing us. The beer too, you gotta have beer. If we don't move there soon we don't deserve to live.

I'm glad we're playing some rad shows in Ontario this month and I hope you plan to check them out because I'll be going into greater detail about this shit in between songs (is he joking?). Just shut up, right? Jeez. Anyways, after Ontario comes more Eastern shows and I'll be fucked if those don't go over as well as Montreal did.

We're playing our EP front to back in the set now so if you buy it and learn the words and sing it, pals. You should know enough of them that I'll be able to Craig Owens the shit out of our sets. And by that I mean, give you all the mic for the whole set and pretend that me being on stage is worth anything.

Jai-Alai team captain,

Daniel!

Where in the world is San Diego?

2009-05-30T17:02:00.000-07:00

Francophone: I just feel like it must be harder for someone who is circumcized to feel comfortable with the skin there in.

Anglophone: Is there a reason why?

Germanphone: Whell...

Germaphobe: Hey guys I just saw the biggest chessboard in town.

We're all down to our last pennies and collectively have one cigarette left. Coffee is another story. Getting home from Montreal should be interesting. Help out, please? Pre-order our cd and I'll love you until I'm banned from the future (dead).

No such things as half-way crooks,

Daniel.

There's no antidote

2009-05-27T15:59:00.000-07:00

Is this you?

Would you hang out with this guy?

Do you wish that countries looked like this?Then don't come here when I'm working.
Or I'll freak out like this asshole.

Daniel

This Summer Started in June

2009-05-24T10:58:00.000-07:00

Act 5: The Internal Struggle

Daniel: Hey. People. Change. Man. Just be stoked you got to see those tits before they were hanging out of a skimpy Hollister tank top and drenched in bro-drool, jock-sweat and cheap beer.

Daniel: That's so hip.

Daniel: Fashion.

Daniel: Fashion.

Daniel: Have you ever read the "Da Vinci Code"?

I wanted the play to go in a different direction so I'm reworking some of the minor details. Now it's about two big fat people ordering twenty cakes each at an Olive Garden in New Hampshire. There's still a bunch of deaf people in the play they've just been pushed into smaller roles. Also, the soundtrack to this play is now a Mitch Hedberg comedy cd.

We're playing in Montreal next weekend and I'm fucking stoked. I've never been to the city and I love the Habs. I hear Mordecai Richler did some cool shit there too. After that it's a while until we hit the stage again. But just after our record comes out we're playing a string of dates with Silverstein. Those shows are going to rule and I'm going to try to out-punk them all every day on stage. I don't care how many times Bill two-steps up there.

I'm also thinking of writing a stand up comedy routine to make stage banter easier. I'll just dip into the old idea-hummus and pull out a piece of comedic gold. How bout it? Let's bout 'bout it.
Eat it!

-Daniel

This Summer

2009-05-18T16:28:00.000-07:00

ACT 20: The Fuck Fest Begins

Me: What's up man?

David Schwimmer making this face :( : wellwahhweahyeah you know

Me: That's why you're my favourite.

Like I always say, "the best part about drinking coffee and surfing the net in your parents' basement is that all of the stupid photos of David Schwimmer, Jean-Paul Sartre and Snorlax you used for your MSN display picture in highschool are still kicking around on the old DELL".

He's right...you know.

But like I've been telling myself lately, "I want you to want to break free". So I'm doing it. Welcome to an early '010 slugpuppies. The year of IACAS and the giant pig revolution. We're going out. On the road. With cool bands. Playing shows. Smoking. I know. It's confusing.

What you mean to understand is that we're playing as many shows as we can get and getting as many shows as we can play. You like our band? That's cool. Check our myspace for dates because we'll probably stop by your Tim Horton's kind of town pretty soon.

REBOOT!

Daniel.

PLEASE HELP IACAS with Street Team Recruitment

2009-05-13T07:20:00.000-07:00

Hello, dear reader. IACAS would like to enlist your help in amassing an A-list street team which will tentatively be referred to as the heretics (subject for change when the name becomes apparently offensive to anyone). We are looking for those who would be willing and able to help breathe life into our band in any of several ways. Whether it be promoting our shows when we pass through your area, distributing information, media, posters etc in your area in hopes that enough people may want us to pass through, we need your help. Nearly anyone constitutes a good candidate for the street team but more specifically, we seek a geographically diverse group of individuals with an interest in supporting our band and receiving some highly attractive kick offs in return; possibly including some free swag, access to a great deal of insider information and the participation in stimulating dialogue with me and other members of the heretics community. If anyone feels they could be of help please send an email with your name, location and any questions or comments to heretics@iamcommittingasin.com. Please, tell your friends, we need
help!

Kevin

THEPREORDER

2009-05-12T13:26:00.000-07:00

Male Barista with pierced ears: Are you deaf?

Deaf Guy with deaf ears: What?

Male Barista with pierced ears: I just made you say, "what".

That's act two.

That's some heavy metaphorical shit. Note to reader: the ear piercings represent the gift of sight.

Not much else to say. Just thought I'd let you know that you can pre-order Grow Past Their Promises at out website. www.iamcommittingasin.com

Act 3 coming soon.

-Daniel!

Grow Past Their Promises

2009-05-09T23:00:00.000-07:00

Italian Guy who totally hates the Irish: How come banana business no do too good?

Italian Guy who totally hates everyone: Because monkey business do very good, thats why banana business no do too good.

That's the first act of my play. It's going to be about two deaf people ordering coffee in New York.

But yo,

The month of June will be a very eventful one for me and the other dudes. In fact, it will be so eventful that this play will surely go unfinished like all the other plays I've "written". But lets be honest, who the fuck isn't writing a play? Am I right?

Anyways, June...let's talk. On the 2nd of June, 2009 years after your god died, I Am Committing A Sin will release their 2nd E.P. across this land many call Canada. Can you say that again? Hell yeah! On June 2nd, our record drops. It's called "Grow Past Their Promises", it's got 6 songs on it, it will be in all of your favourite music stores across Canada, it will be sold internationally on iTunes and our good friend(s) at Verona Records will be putting it out. Pretty good, right?

The 5 of us worked super hard for like 3 days to record this E.P., and Paul worked even harder for like 2 months afterwards to get it ready for sale. But you'll like it. I swear. In fact, here's an artists rendition of what you'll look like before and after hearing this thing.

BEFORE:

(SOUR, not sweet)

AFTER:
(Isn't that saultry? )

-Daniel

Just A Poem I Wrote

2009-04-20T14:56:00.000-07:00

Pretty.
Girl.
At.
The Bank.

Which way does the wind blow?
Up.
Up.

Up your skirt?

The land of forsaken bills and coin.
Ducats for the lads! Ducats for the babes!

The kids milk the honey bee for its stripes and play hide, seek and deploy.

INTO AFGHANISTAN!

Pretty. Girl. At The. Bank.

Into the amusement park of burnt hair.
The bumper cars of like are stained in oil, how do you fair?
What is the fare?

Pretty. Girl. At The Bank-in.

To you from flaming hands they've thrown the olympic torch.
Where do you place? But where do you place?
In the Luge, I think, you placed third.
That's pretty good considering you are new to the Luge.

Pretty Girl At The Bank.
I work at Starbucks because I play in a band, but I'm not stupid, I went to school last year and just thought I'd take time off to pursue something that meant more because I really enjoy singing and making music with my friends, but don't worry I'm not an idiot, I understand how important a degree is I just feel like I don't like the horse-race that is academia, you know, and I know that that sounds immature but I'm not that immature although I don't have a driver's liscence and I am 20 now, but still if we went out it wouldn't be that bad if you drove, I know its weird because I'm supposed to be the man, and I'm kind of a boy I admit, but we should be striving towards breaking these sort of sexist conventions, I think you're a fine person and driving to our first date would be good for woman kind, we just bought a trailer so you might have to pay for the date too, but if you want I'll buy you a coffee with my discount, but would that be weird because I work at starbucks and then would be taking you to starbucks, but of course the conversation would be good, I enjoy books and movies and music and other things and I'm quite good at conversation so we should try this you know we could talk about school and why I'm not there and my band and your life and my dog and other things in my life and I could let you know that....

I have a backup plan.
I have a backup plan.
I have a backup plan.
I have a backup plan.

Punk/Hardcore Crews: Fuck You

2009-04-02T18:46:00.000-07:00

Maybe it’s just me, but I fail to see the difference between these crews and the cliques in high school that sat higher on the social ladder and probably shoved them into music in the first place. That’s probably because there isn’t a difference and that they missed the fucking point.

They’re like lobbyists. They sit on the fringe of something that is intended to do good-something that is by intention, beautiful, and they pervert and twist it into something pathetic and counter productive.

I can’t help but recall the first time I saw one of my favourite bands, Strike Anywhere. I think it was before they played “Sedition” that Thomas said something to the effect of, “this song goes out to our brothers and sisters in the gay community. I just want you to know that we love and support you!” After the song was over and I was overtaken by musical euphoria, I tried to leave the venue and walked into the middle of two oafs throwing punches at each other. And of course, these two gorillas were yelling at each other. Screaming, “faggot!” “faggot!”. This, coming from two dudes that I saw screaming the lyrics of the song at the top of their lungs. This, coming from two dudes who clearly love the band. Again, you missed the fucking point.

I'm just amazed because as far as I know punk and hardcore has and always will be about unity. And although this may sound a bit too self-righteous, I’m sick of these crews and gangs tearing at the seams of something that I love so much. It’s a mentality I don’t understand and a movement I will never sympathize with. Scott Wade was right and like he said, "I don't need a crew to validate myself".

This rant is long-winded and poorly constructed.

Once again, you missed the fucking point.

Daniel.

I'm Fucking Boring

2009-03-26T13:49:00.000-07:00

So, I've been pretty sick lately and I figured I'd offer insight into what I do on days where I don't do anything and since blogs are basically used by boring-ass assholes to bring the rest of the world into their unimportant lives, making them feel even the slightest bit like what they have to say or do matters, this is me taking that to the extreme. Here comes it:

11:00am-11:30am: The Daily Show (Channel 44)
11:30am-11:55am:The Colbert Report (Channel 44) *note: I don't finish watching it because I don't like most of the interviews he does and "Recess" starts early because it's on Family Channel and there is no commercials (5 stars)
11:55am-12:15ish-pm: Recess (Channel 45)
12:20ish-12:50ish (see Family Channel scheduling fucks me up): Kim Possible (Channel 45)
12:50ish-1:00pm: Make Bagel or Cigarette
1:00pm-2:00pm: The O.C. (Channel 17)
2:00pm-2:20pm: Filmore (Channel 45)
2:20ish-2:40ish: The Weekenders (Channel 45)
2:40ish-3:00pm: Make Bagel or Shower or Cigarette
3:00pm-3:30pm: Seinfeld (Channel 46)
3:30pm-4:00pm: Seinfeld (Channel 46)
4:00pm-4:30: Corner Gas (Channel 44) or, if it's an episode I hate (the show is hit or miss) I'll have a bunch of Cigarettes.
4:30pm-5:00pm: King of the Hill (Channel 44)
5:00pm-5:30pm: The Simpsons (Channel 6)
5:30pm-6:00pm: Whose Line is it Anyways? (Channel 25)
6:00pm-6:30pm: Seinfeld (Channel 47)
6:30pm-7:00pm: Seinfeld (Channel 24)
7:00pm-7:30pm: Two and a Half Men (Channel 4)
7:30pm-8:00pm: The Simpsons (Channel 4)
8:00pm-8:30pm: Malcolm in the Middle (Channel 27)
8:30pm-9:00pm: Futurama (Channel 27)
9:00pm-9:30pm: The Simpsons (Channel 44)
9:30pm-10:00pm: Southpark (Channel 44)
10:00pm-10:30pm: Seinfeld (Channel 24)
10:30pm-11:00pm: EAT!
11:00pm-11:30pm: The Daily Show (Channel 44)
11:30pm-12:00am: The Colbert Report (Channel 44)

Then: Sleep or Cigarette

So, that's pretty much what I do when I'm sick or just have a pathetic day.

Sorry,

Daniel.

EP #2 from us to you!

2009-02-26T20:26:00.000-08:00

I can't go into detail mostly because I don't have time right now, but these are the facts (in order of importance):

1. It IS real
1. It IS nearly done
1. It DOES consist of nearly 7 songs
1. It DOES contain new songs
1. It IS (probably) called Grow Past Their Promises

1. There WILL be drums on the record

Sorry the video isn't funny. More of most things to come.

Paul

New Urgent Member Writes This Blog Urgently

2009-02-01T10:12:00.000-08:00

New Urgent Member Writes This Blog Urgently

A lot of you readers may be wondering what this blog is about. The more inquisitive reader may even be wondering exactly who has written it. Your curiosities must be suspended however as we have other matters to deal with first. But take heart, we have some attractive matters to deal with first. The first issue at hand is that the band has some news, some news we wish to convey to parties with vested interested in said band. The thing about realities is that they are shifting and incongruent. One’s reality is not noumenal but only how they perceive the world to be. This we call phenomenal. And while we’re the first to admit that our reality is phenomenal, we do believe that in this instance we have the upper hand, so to speak, on qualifying this news as objectively true. For example, we possess some bit of information that is somewhat exclusively known. As we are also generous, we wish to impart this knowledge to you, first hand, from the most reliable source possible. The information, which is the aforementioned news, is that within the band there is a presence unlike any presence that has been present before. As of yet, we are uncertain of the exact nature of this entity, maybe transcendent, maybe omniscient, but most certainly a twenty year old male with whom we have been familiar for years and who has taken to filling the chasm left by the leaving of Ryan Henderson, former guitarist (2008-2009-lifespan). What difference will this make to the band? Likely little difference as far as you are concerned but some things are worth mentioning. Firstly, if you’re still reading this blog, you’ll understand what we mean by saying that he may make things a little more tedious, especially when the given task involves swift communication. This may also factor into the mode in which we are best known for communicating: our music. This is simply because Ryan Henderson was a better musician. The third thing (you were unaware that you were reading the second) is that he looks different. That is to say that this new member physically appears different from the Ryan. How will you know this to be true? (remember what I said about realities). Not sure, but there will be photographic evidence sometime soon, perhaps now or recently. For example, photographs are on display to give you an idea of what he possibly looks like. The fact of the matter is that he is here and has always been here. Not in the sense that he has been an integral member of the team but in the sense that he has written this blog. I am him and thou shall know him by he who is called I am. I am alternately known as Kevin King, wrote this blog. Nice to meet you.

Does god exist at the University of Toronto?

2009-01-22T00:08:00.000-08:00

Does god exist at the University of Toronto?

-Kevin of I Am Committing A Sin

The foregoing entry is meant to accompany my bulletin-board rebuttal to the poster advertisement for the “Does God exist?” debate being hosted this coming Tuesday by the University of Toronto that you may have seen excessively posted around campus. While my musings may impart wisdom to even the unknowing reader, I’ll fill you in for good measure. Recently, I’ve taken notice of the slew of these posters probing the university community as to whether or not god exists. The answer is very simple of course: god does not exist and the statement needn’t any more attention. It is a matter of one and one equals two and so on from there (not very groundbreaking so let’s not make a deal of it). As such, my rebuttal has been a poster of my own which reads “No... Stop humoring them. End the god debate!” Such a reaction may seem callous and unnecessary but let me further explain my motivations and adumbrate precisely what I mean by ending the god debate.

As I’ve just made clear, I have little interest in proving the non-existence of god. (Although it can be done in four simple steps- ask me in private) Any student can believe what they’d like in the privacy of their own dormitory but raising the question to an academic community in a full-on debate, even as a bit of healthy controversy, is both embarrassing and patronizing.[i]

It is not a worthy display of some pseudo progressive secularism, positing the university as the arena fit to tackle such pathetic debates, but is instead a part of a regressive tendency that has snuck into society in the finest print of freedom of religion. My problem is that the poster presumes that both possible answers to the question are of equal validity, as if it was a matter of opinion, and ensures that either answer is socially acceptable. Is this the level of integrity and intelligence to be expected of a student or, more importantly, of one of the country’s leading universities? I for one am more optimistic and this is exactly why I feel patronized and embarrassed.

Harmless one might say. One might make the claim that confronting believers with the question may challenge their faith. I’d have to ask that person if they’ve ever tried to discuss the subject with a believer and realized how unshakable that faith is. I’d then tell that person that, in fact, they don’t have to speak to a believer to understand my point but instead consider what their belief is to begin with. People of faith are simply and limitedly people of faith when it comes to the concept god. Their belief seems to be that god exists and is responsible for anything yet unclaimed by scientific discovery and then some (quite a lot really). This is the basis for my campaign against open discussion. One cannot shake a person of faith with all of history’s labours of the mind and science (including the 150 year Darwinist conspiracy). They have no points of argument to defend and so any efforts against them are for naught.

For lack of progress, the endless debate between atheists and theists acts as more of a tacit social agreement to accord respect to a belief in god. This is why I’d like to end the debate, that is, cease respecting or acknowledging any belief in god and treating it as any capricious and ridiculous behaviour is normally treated. So, let’s carry on knowing the debate is settled and defer asking “does god exist?” as in “it’s up to you- no bother either way!” until an applicant for graduate studies in science must be asked on an aptitude test.

[i] *Upon researching the debate in question, I have come to realize that it is likely not meant to be a bit of healthy controversy. Instead, it is apart of a slew of “does god exist?” events organized by Campus Crusade for Christ International, an evangelist organization whose mission catchphrase is admittedly “religious multiplication”, not in the sense of diversification but in the sense of pyramid scheme proliferation. Seriously! It makes a great deal of sense that the debate is between Dr. William Lane Craig, an enormous celebrity as far as modern defenders of biblical Christianity go, and the relatively obscure U of T atheist and philosophy professor, Dr. James Robert Brown.

Check it out @:

www.doesgodexist.ca

and

www.campuscrusadeforchrist.com

New Years Resolutions You Are An Idiot For Making

2009-01-15T17:00:00.000-08:00

Here's a list you'll get into.

1. Quitting Smoking: It won't work and I like it.

2. Investing in Nortel: Told you so.

3. Spending More Time With Your Family: They 're not interesting, that's why you work all day at your work-a-day gig, come home hungry but have to walk the dogs first only to have to wash the dishes before you realize that your wife is at her volleyball team meeting so you have to ask the kids if they want take out, but they can't agree so you end up driving to Taco Bell and Subway and are late coming home because you get pulled over for speeding because you're so into the Led Zeppelin song that came on Q 107 that you just had to give 'er and when you get home the kids shit all over the place because they caught something at school and you have to clean it but puke all over your shirt from the Bay (Wayne Gretzky Collection) and lie there in a pool of misery and excrement cleaning yourself off with a Laker Lager and washing it down with a cigarette because you can't quit because you like it.

4. Taking A Class: Your wife and or husband or girlfriend on the side is getting on you about doing something with your life, huh? Divorce/Divorce/Break up with them! Seriously, you don't wanna get out there. That's where people are, and if you liked people then you wouldn't lock your doors at night, pussy.

5. Praying More: Yeah, 'cause it's worked so well thus far...(It's not gonna work and I don't like it).

6. Going To The Gym: This one's the big one that all the big ones choose. Heres something I think you should know: fat people really get in my grits because they eat all of the grits. I should advise that you tubbo's stay out of the gym until Apple makes a pocket sized defibrillator.

7. Getting Into Heaven: If you've seen "A Night At The Roxbury" you certainly know that to get into the best clubs (heaven) you have to endure a ton of shit before the Keys to the VIP are yours. And plus, when its all over, you're still either Will Ferrill or Christ Kattan only in velvet suits and with a mushroom cut. Heaven? You're living in the past man!

Let's just top this off with a bunch of pictures of people I hate.

Daniel!

You Can't Teach An Old Dog ANYTHING!

2009-01-08T11:05:00.001-08:00

Upon thinking about what I would write in this (my first and maybe last) blog, I got a bit emotional when the topic of Ryan "leaving" the band popped into my head. That emotion was sheer anger. If you think that his leaving the band had anything to do with him being uncommitted, or wanting to do other things, you are sadly mistaken.

It was a cold and bitter Saturday night when we had just finished band practice... The five of us were sitting around in our circle on the floor, just talking about whatever the fuck we wanted to. Because really, who could stop us? WHO!? I will tell you who. His name is Ryan Henderson and you might know him as that fucking guy who quit our band (or Max Anderson). This man single handedly put a stop to our saying whatever the fuck we wanted to. Now, you might be very confused about what this en(pony)tails... so I will give you some examples. We would speak of things like the latest Katy Perry single, what we had for dinner the night before, what we were going to have for dinner that night, and what we were going to have for dinner the day after. No matter what it was, he always felt the need to say things like "I'm quitting the band", "I'm agnostic" "I steal everybody's jokes and call them my own", and the crowd favourite "Elect Brian". I mean, sure he was good for writing the occasional decent part, and getting things that were too high for any of us to reach, but as you can probably tell by now, this just wasn't going to fly anymore. That being said, I decided to take matters into my own hands... or put my matter into Paul's hands, when we almost telepathically sent each other a message. Pincher crab. We started the maneuver faster than ever, and when I was in Paul's arms and finally airborne, I started yelling "YOU'RE OUT! YOU'RE OUT OF THE BAND! WE'RE KICKING YOU OUT!" Now, if he was anybody else he would have just taken the blow and left the room... but no way. He replied with "Don't fuck me up, don't fuck me up!", yet another joke that he stole from me.

I digress...

Something weird just happened to me, but I can't tell you what... Secret life!

But really, Ryan just had it coming all along. And as they say "You can't teach an old dog new tricks" Or in this case, ANYTHING!

FUCK YOU RYAN HENDERSON!

Love,

Kelly.

Review of Charlton Heston

2008-12-15T10:41:00.000-08:00

It's about time someone did this hero some justice.

Now, since his death in early 2008 people really haven't stopped talking about Charlton Heston. Who was he? Where was he when JFK was shot? How good was his cameo on friends that one time? All of these questions hang like a mobile over our inquisitive heads and we are condemned to eternally and unsuccessfully grasp at them like some sort of baby grasping for a mobile. While the rest of the world worries its pretty little head about petty things like recession, oppression and freedom of expression, we true Heston-heads know the answer to all of the questions. You want money? Who had more than Charlton (known by his closest friends as simply "Charl")? And what about oppression? I need not remind you about the euphoric freedom and raw-dawg power clenching that newly acquired and recently cleaned NRA membership card causes. And freedom of expression? Please! Charl wrote the book on F.O.E:

"From my cold dead hands"- Charl

And he wasn't talking about Old Mosey (his 9mm)in that Bible verse, he was talking about the cure to all of what ails us- himself.

Look no further than 6 feet below you! Look down when you're feeling down! Charl will turn that upside down smile into a upside down frown!

Just look at the facts:

Charl grew up in a modest 2 bed, 1 living room and 1/2 a bath home in Madrid, Spain. Born into a family of Irish circus folk, he grew to love mashed, baked and sweet figs as well as sobriety and agnosticism (5 stars). Ironically named St. Peter Heston, he later changed his name to Charlton as it was clearly more unique. Although life at this point sounds fantastic, things were not all great for the Hestons. After the first world war, the Spanish grew a distaste for all things circus and a hunger for facisim. Charl grew to resent his parents for not improving their own financial state (which they clearly controlled) and thus a new Charl emerged. A money hungry, poor hating, and probably due to the facisim thing, a gun loving Charl arose to soon capture the talk of the town. (6 stars). After a brief skit in a country music band (a growing trend along side of facisim in Spain) Charl packed his bindle and set sail for America where he felt he would fit right in. Instant success followed (1 star). After burning up the country music charts Charl gave his best bet at acting, which came naturally to him as he was very handsome. Landing such classic starring roles as The Chief in the 1956 blockbuster, "So Many Chiefs" as well as The Cat in, "The Cat That Killed Curiosity" Heston became the first it-man in Hollywood history. And after his perforances as Moses, The Burning Bush, The Tablet and Angry Cop #3 in "The Ten Commandments" Charl became a true legend (8 stars).

Overall Life Score: 8 stars

The reviews of this review are in, and they're saying, "2 thumbs held up in agreeance".

Just read this:

"I was confused about myself. You know? How sometimes you get confused about yourself? Yeah well that was me haha. I didn't know what to believe anymore what with GM and new presidents and everything. So my mom told me to watch 'The Ten Commandments'. I was really impressed that Charlton Heston was able to lead the Jews into a world of tolerance and equality, but still wasn't ready to be happy. So my dad told me to watch 'Planet of the Apes'. The lesson I learned was that the future is going to be worse than how things are now. And then I was okay." -Ryan Henderson of I Am Committing A Sin.

Also, no matter what anyone says, Charl was the first republican to endorse the Theory of Evolution. He really took it to heart.

Moving Pictures. Just try to stop us.

2008-12-13T13:48:00.000-08:00

Alright, so...

Here it is. I'm going to keep this short because I'm sure you'll want to hold onto every last second you have to watch and re-watch our newest video aptly titled "KELLYZ KRAZY KORNER". On behalf of our entire band: Any questions you may have had about drums will and have been answered in this instructional video.

Get informed. Watch it now.

Kellyz Krazy Korner

the new Tom Cruise

2008-12-10T17:45:00.000-08:00

Here's one:

Knock, Knock!
Who is there?
So a guy walks onto a movie set and takes this idea with him.
Trick question, it was Tom Cruise and he was on an ATV.

Now, we're all aware that Hollywood is soon going to be outsourced to India (it already has), but before it goes I'd like to see a movie that really moves me. A movie that marries all of my favourite periods of history and leftist politcs with mythology, zoo-ology and starbucks. Now, you may say I'm a dreamer, and I already know that I'm the only one, but I assure you that such a feat is possible.

Largest Movie Pitch...bitch.

I call it, "Back to the Future, of Narnia". Azlan (the CGI Liam Neeson) just read the Manifesto for the first time and is feeling like it's time. So he gets those kids ready for a real pow-Mao-wow with the Ice Queen (who I hear is supposed to be Hitler or something). So Qui-Gon, those kids and the beaver get the whole gang together and start to train. Now, they're throwing knives, swingin' swords and shooting arrows- the usual training stuff, when a double agent Centaur comes clopping along real fast after catching word of A FACT. That fact just happens to be that the hot Ice Queen purchased some really hi-tech ex-soviet weaponry via the Asian black market and that the Minotaurs are putting up a real fight for the space race with Reagan. All and all, the evil armies of Narnia have an arsenal that is sweeping the cosmos and the rolling hills of Earth. Instant pro-liferation is a dangerous thing. For some reason this particular Centaur is hung for suspicion of sedition, but because of his valiant effort, Liam's army puts the weapon buying montage into action. All sorts of tyrants are seen selling weapons to the good Narnia guys. I'm talking Hitler, Stalin, Mussolini, Alexander, Ghengis Kahn, Cesare Borgia, Jesus, Moses (all kinds of shit heads), selling nuclear arms to these guys, and in just ONE montage. Then comes the training montage. It starts off in black and white and starwipes into colour 45 seconds in.

The fight scene takes up 3/4 of the movie.

All hell breaks loose and because Centaurs have the brain of a man and Minotaurs have the brain of a bull the good guys win the space race. But before that its urban warfare in the cosmopolitan part of Narnia (south east). Bullets coated in uranium hail down from the skies. Explosions happen all of the time. Private Ryan is saved. Epic knife fights happen. I know it sounds like a chick flick, but the inter-species romances make it a movie even the most manly of men can enjoy. And because everyone dies, it's a movie even the youngest of children can get into.

The last scene is the Ice Queen and a Centaur (because Liam Neeson is crushed by the fall of the Berlin wall) negotiating the new boarders of Narnia at a Starbucks; like a Han and Greedo kind of situation...except they both shoot first.

So that's my pitch. If your close your eyes and think about it really hard, you can already see the royality cheques coming my way, which is good because I need your money to make this happen.

Daniel has one "L",

Daniel (forever young)

Spoiler Alert! He's the killer and a zombie

2008-09-27T16:20:00.000-07:00

Hey, I'm Bono, except without the papal kinship.

Although these events will inevitably be overshadowed by similar happenings in the US, you Canadian citizens will be able to flex your democratic muscle once again. Now, I've always been a fan of flexing muscles, and have been to a number of pro-hamstring rallies in my days, but am pretty set in the belief that before one is able to show off their finely tuned muscles one has to really work at getting them big, juicy and pulsating. Sexy, long winded and subtle analogies aside, I should probably say that what I mean by the inane garbage above is that before voting, you should do some research (the working out)- it really pumps you up.

Have you done any yet? If you have you may have discovered that although we western-ers (I hate how that looks), especially us Canadians, take pride in the fact that we can elect our officials, so much so that we endorse patronizing, condescending and ill conceived wars based on this principle, our votes (your vote) does not matter. Our 'free' and 'liberal' society is merely a facade for a pseudo democracy.

To make a short rant shorter, I'm asking you to spoil your ballot. This seemingly reckless gesture is not in the least apathetic-it shows you are willing to vote but choose not to. The result is a message that you send to the government asking them to throw away the ineffective "first past the post" system, which perpetuates our two party rule, for a system that will allow what are currently fringe parties, like the Green Party and and to a lesser extent (and certainely a lesser party) the NDP to be proportionately represented by the growing number of people who vote in their favour.

Don't throw away your vote, contribute to a collective voice that will demand an end to our partial system and perhaps more aptly put, to our partial democracy.

DEBUT E.P.

2008-09-16T09:46:00.000-07:00

Hey, you,

When one hears or even thinks of the word "debut", or more appropriately the term "debut E.P.", it might be difficult or in some cases impossible to remove the notion of a "geocentric universe" (which we all know to be the true debut EP of rational and entirely accurate human thought , which stays TO THIS DAY), but I ask you to venture vehemently towards a more metaphysical yet apt definition.

After what could be some very arduous minutes of cognition, we hopefully all arrive at the same point. For those who don't or haven't (or whatever), I am very much prepared to literally spell it out for you. In fact, I may have spelled it out for you just inches above the text you are reading now. If not, directly below.

I AM COMMITTING A SIN, the affable, amiable, often handsome and rarely ill mannered group of soon-to-be-men has conceived of five (5) songs so engaging that you'd need to have your entire brain erased or reprogrammed (like in the 1986 blockbuster Top Gun) several times over in order to justify not liking them.

The EP, ironically titled BAD TIMES: The Musical, aims to be the soundtrack to all of your autumn and hopefully winter and spring and also summer GOOD times. In addition to that, this ambitious 5 (five) song EP has intentions to decipher what exactly you consider to be a good time, then completely reinvent it. Soon you won't be able to have fun with out it.

The disc itself is nothing short of elegant. A smooth, unassuming white circle. Perfect for use in any current model CD player or computer machine. The art, if you can even call it art, leaves little to be desired aside from the newfound aspiration to apply to graphic design school so you can fully comprehend exactly what you're seeing, if you can even call it seeing.

The point in all of this is that we're going to hand assemble a few of these things and we really need someone to buy them in order to negate the cost of us hand assembling them. You will be able to buy as many as you want (limit: NO LIMIT per customer) at any show that we will be hand-playing in the near future. Namely:

OCTOBER 3 in

BURLINGTON with

SILVERSTEIN and

MORE BANDS.

Thats a charity show, and its a good one.

Be there or we won't sell any CDs, and we really need to.

Paul