Author: Matt Zbrog

They are digging up the dead pope’s body.  I swear to God.  It’s not weird.  It’s actually very simple.

Source:  http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/42819424/ns/world_news/?GT1=43001

The world’s largest religion

[a religion is a romantic group of people who center themselves on the principle of faith — which is belief without physical proof.]

Is digging up the physical body

[which is, at this point, a rotting pile of diseased and dying microrganisms]

Of a previous pope

[the pope is a religion’s team captain.  his duties entail sitting in a tiny room by himself and sitting in a bulletproof car by himself.  What does he do when he’s all alone?  He talks to himself .  Then he comes out on a balcony by himself or records of video of himself and tell us what he’s been thinking about lately.]

“The Vatican said the coffin was removed from the crypts below St. Peter’s Basilica while top Vatican officials and some of the late pope’s closest aides looked on and prayed.”

[the crypts.     the CRYPTS?? the crypts.     ThE cRyPtS… woah. ]

This pope was great at what he did

[which was telling everyone what to do.  well, telling everyone what not to do, mainly.  That, and dealing with world crises with his universal action plan of everyone “really hoping things work out ok… for us” aka talking to yourself in a quiet room.]

He was so great at pope-ing that the religion decided he needed to be remembered and honored.  Especially with all the “bullshit gossip” swirling around.

“Liberals in the church say John Paul was too harsh with theological dissenters who wanted to help the poor…  Some say John Paul should be held ultimately responsible for the sexual abuse scandals … Ultra-Conservatives say he was too open towards other religions and that he allowed the liturgy to be “infected” by local cultures, such as African dancing.”

[“dancing”?  “infected”?  Is this supposed to be a potshot reference to AIDS?]

So the “good guys” at the church want to get it on the books that this was a real solid pope. Shut the lunatics up.  And they want to remember and honor JP2 for real and not just in their hearts and minds.  They want to do it right. Not with some bullshit blog post.

[  http://thepopeblog.blogspot.com/ <— dead serious.]

So they are getting shovels and pitchforks

[for the digging]

And ripping his rotting corpse out of the ground

[  correction:  ripping his corpse out of  tHe CrYpTs…    *MUAHahahahaha* ]

Then dragging it across the street

[as a tribute to him, to really show their appreciation]

After which they will “prepare” the body

[lots of makeup, brand new threads, a whole team working together to make him look like the prettiest heap of decomposing flesh/bone possible… because naturally they don’t want it to be weird or anything]

And then someome will chant a series of words which mean more than spoken words because the church has spoken on this matter and promised that the words are holy this time

“John Paul’s successor Pope Benedict XVI will pronounce a Latin formula declaring one of the most popular popes in history a “blessed” of the Church.”

[there’s a formula.  A formula.]

So that the hundreds of thousands of travelers at the ceremony

[the biggest event in Rome since John Paul II’s funeral… this is not as morbid sounding to Rome as one would think]

Who are all caught up (infected?) with a strange, manic craze

“Rome has been caught up with beatification fever.”

[think of bieber fever but with more corpses + ghosts]

Can see the body with their own two eyes, hear the Latin formula with their own two ears, and actually experience something concrete and real, finally get some damn proof in their hands…

“Souvenirs bearing his image have become an instant hit.”

– Claudio Lavanga (reporting from Rome — MSNBC)

Real proof.

[According to the Telegraph, about $22 million worth of counterfeit Pope souvenirs were seized last week]

While the poor saps at home will sit in a tiny room by themselves and remember and honor and imagine and just have faith in the fact that the Pope wasn’t full of shit.

[I don’t think I like/agree with your assumptions and conclusions.]

You can go to Hell.

I’m going to take a break from being charming and humorous. I’m going to try and be helpful for once. Maybe use my powers for good… like a real serious grown up.

So let’s talk about the increasingly serious, increasingly grown up, and increasingly Heineken/5 gum/Scion/Sony-sponsored Coachella music festival which has totally sold out.

Everyone knows the bands in the first 4 lines of each day’s list of artists. Those ones in the little font can get missed. I put together a list of some of the ones I feel are worth checking out.

DAY 1:

Mount Kimbie are some of the best at post-dubstep. If you’re wondering what that means, it means that dubstep took a Xanax and decided the bass really didn’t need to be that all-encompassing. It’s still got plenty of hop and bounce, and the artists generally have an incredible ear for rhythm.  Mount Kimbie is a good introduction.

If you like that, catch Nosaj Thing playing later. He has an awesome visual show which matches his beats flawlessly. It looks clean and pretty… and it’s very complex to pull off. Check out a compilation here .

If you decide you prefer plain old dubstep, run over and see 12th Planet before he drops dead from doing the same thing he’s been doing for years.

Ariel Pink’s Haunted Graffiti had Pitchfork’s Album of the Year last year, so I’m surprised they didn’t get higher billing. Maybe because Ariel’s last big profile show took place at a circus and he walked out in the middle of a song and never came back. I wish I could’ve been there.

OFWGKTA — Odd.  Future.  Wolf.  Gang.  KillThemAll.   Get on this ridiculously over-crowded bandwagon before the wheels come off entirely. I do not understand how you can walk five feet and not get hit in the face by an Odd Future interview/reference/sighting these days.

And if you’re tired of the far-off future and bored of the distant past, do some guilty time traveling to the revivalists of the 1990s. Cold Cave is a lot deeper than their Radio Shack commercial suggests, and The Pains of being Pure at Heart are extremely good at what they do.

DAY 2:

Mary Anne Hobbs — the fairy godmother of modern electronic music. Her BBC radio show was largely responsible for bringing underground UK electronic music to the scene. She has a strong bond with the Low End Theory / Brainfeeder guys like Flying Lotus and Gaslamp Killer and she’s very much in touch with what people call The LA Sound. She’s earned the trust of millions of listeners for her music taste. She’s worth checking out.

If you liked your experiments with Nosaj Thing or Mount Kimbie, you’ll definitely want to get in on some Daedelus. This video of him performing ridiculous feats on a strange instrument should tell you everything you need to know… if you can explain what he’s doing without watching it 45 times, you are a smarter person than I am.

I think most people wonder if Lil’B the BASED god is a dumb joke, whether he knows he’s a joke, or whether the joke is on us. But his independent other-world rap style has influenced Odd Future and a host of imitators.  He’s kind of scary if you consider the fact that he may be serious.

If you don’t want anything too scary, run through The Twelves set. I saw them at Santos Party House and left covered in sweat. If you like the safety of Girl Talk, these guys are for you.

DAY 3:

HEALTH — Awesome live show, awesome atmosphere. If you can hang in there during the two minute feedback/screech solo, you are in for a treat by the end.  They made the song Crimewave, which was remixed by Crystal Castles and turned into a mega-hit.  Their drummer is intense. And, most importantly, they have the best twitter account of every band anywhere. Check that out here: http://twitter.com/_health_ .

You’ll probably need something comforting to balance out HEALTH. Delorean fits the bill with their PassionPit-esque music from the beaches of Barcelona. Half club music and half singalong radio, Delorean is unabashedly optimistic and lighthearted — and they don’t care if that’s naïve. Go and bounce your head along and don’t feel guilty.  If you close your eyes, you could probably pretend that Indio is Ibiza and get away with it.

If you didn’t get your fill from the 400 interchangeable electronic artists on day 1 and 2, go see Tokimonsta early on day 3.  She’ll sound microscopically different than every other DJ you’ve ever heard, and she’ll look really hot doing it.  If you honestly need more, catch the “legend” Joy Orbison a little later.

OFF! — I miss my punk. And these guys are good at punk. They’re loud, obnoxious, talented, and not bound by rules. They’re never serious and they don’t care if they help anyone…

For God’s sake, just walk around while you’re there. Schedules are great, but not for vacations. And don’t forget to stop by the 5Gum Intense Experience Interactive Chewing Simulator (this is a real thing).  See you there.

Years back, my dad was away on business for his computer consulting firm.  He was staying at a Motel 6 in Wichita, Kansas.  After a late night of consulting on computation machines, he stopped at a McDonald’s and ordered what he described as an abhorrent amount of food.

To translate what that might mean to you, I will say this:  My dad is no fatass.  He’s a lean man with glasses and an intellect that can carve you to pieces… pieces which will then be vulnerable to a certain “rapist wit” that often echoes only inside his own skull — its genius multi-layered irony indiscernible to the average person.  And he’s not one for reckless indulgence.

So by my best estimates, using a calculator for my father’s level of shame, I would put his fateful McDonald’s order at somewhere between $11 and $15, which, based on the Dollar Value Menu, could have reached an alarming caloric level.

Once he arrived “home” at the motel, he stripped down to his white fruit of the loom briefs and his black almost-knee-high socks.  Sufficiently comfortable in both mind and body, he booted up his laptop and inserted the DVD for Rumble in the Bronx 2.  Rumble in the Bronx 2 was a straight to DVD spinoff of a kung fu movie starring Jackie Chan.  My father, who has managed an image of refined cinematic taste for over 50 years, was quite aware that this movie was going to be awful — Mom would never have allowed such artless drivel in the house.

Which is precisely why he waited until he was in Wichita, Kansas with a bag of McDonald’s in a Motel fucking 6 and a do not disturb sign on the door.

So when he choked on that fateful McNugget, the type of choking past the point of it will pass, I mean really choking… he knew what to do.

He threw himself off of the crumb, salt, and grease covered bed.

He hacked and gasped his way past the phone.

He inched his spasm-ing body towards the chest of drawers

And as the last remnants of oxygen were being swallowed by his body, as all the lights were going out, he summoned every ounce of human strength left in his body to lift his finger towards the “Eject” button on the laptop DVD player.

And just as he reached out to press the button, he collapsed on the floor where the resulting impact on his chest dislodged the piece of “chicken” stuck in his throat.

Now, to hear my father tell it, it all makes perfect sense.

He saw the phone.  He knew where the water faucets were.  He understood the mechanics and hydraulics of his digestive tract.  There were many routes he could have taken to evacuate the rogue “chicken” morsel.

But even with all his understanding, he knew there was a chance, just a chance in the grand scheme of probability and quantum physics, that he would not be able to save his own life.  And if that were the case, no fucking way did he want to be found in a Motel 6 in Wichita, Kansas, watching Rumble in the Bronx 2 in his underwear, murdered by his own lust for processed bird chunks and fried potatoes.

What would the neighbors say?

The sheer possibility alone was enough to shake him to his core and allow him to face death with the inner peace of a Tibetan monk… he would risk it all to prevent such a cruel bookmark to an otherwise respectable life.