So two or six things. Number the first: I am NOT dead, but of late have found myself mixed up in the high stakes game of world diplomacy and international intrigue, aka Ann Arbor real estate. Having rented the last eight-plus years of my life, I’m prepping to embark on that glorious boondoggle called home ownership. Myopic as it seems, driving factors in this decision amount largely to desires A) to own a six-foot aquarium, and B) to purchase / play drums to my heart’s content—seriously, chick magnet much? Ideally, I’m looking for a cheap, upside REO that’ll leave me enough cash to make improvements to my liking, preferably with some combo of input / assistance / heavy drinking from Team Slayer.

Factoid two: mad props to Matthew for carrying the torch in the interim (great song, FYI). I’m well aware of the easy slide—eh going to bed, I’ll post tomorrow, screw it Hopslam, etc. (Side note: I’ve now gone through 1.5 cases of Bell’s finest—brewers across the Midwest: that’s your cue to clone.) Blogs are a pain in the ass a great deal of the time and a hella blast during the balance—thanks, Matt, for the continued opportunity to experience the latter.

Thing last: pretty sure I saw Dykehouse this evening, all sorts of disheveled and manning the front desk of one Encore Recordings. Hair to his shoulders and sporting dumpster-sheik beard, he was a far cry from the James Murphy look-alike we used to know and love. Still the derisive commentary and general malaise left little doubt the former Furtado-ite had found his way back to the city de la mine. WTF, Nelly? Yeah, as I quickly reminded MH, we once upon a time experienced a heated exchange between MDyke and coworkers regarding the former’s affections for the Steve-Nash-squeeze’s 2000 debut, Whoa Nelly! Now, I think we can all agree Ms. Furtado brings her fair share of assets to the table—but what about the music? Check “Turn off the Light,” a twitch-tacular ode to reclusion with that perfect electro-acoustic blend. Listen to it just once, I dare you….