Miss Piggy Lunchbox

I can’t think of this album without thinking of my 1995 girlfriend, to whom I gave this as a birthday gift if not on the day she broke up with me then like the day before. Not that I can blame her…looking back at the 20-year-old me, it’s amazing I even got laid. Still, the album comes with a lot of unhappy associations.

And this is just a stubby, informal review anyway, since I’ve only got the first of the two discs.

It’s pretty good, though. One of the biggest problems with Phish, in my opinion, is that there compositional style grates and stays in a rut too long, particularly in the sterile studio environment. It’s more fun live, though, with that extra energy, and the grooves are more on the hypnotic side, as opposed to the boring side.

Non-keepers: “Stash,” “Montana”
Keepers: everything else
Filed Between: Phish’s Hoist and Billy Breathes

NBA, you are now Dead To Me.

For the most part I scoff at the notion that any sports team’s front office has to worry about keeping popular players around. Generally I think that fans like winning, and if shipping off a popular player in a trade will improve your team, then you should do it.

Certain players, though, are an exception, and now the only reason anybody had to continue to follow the Timberwolves is in Boston…one year after I left the place. Earlier this year Boston also got former Minnesota star and stain-on-humanity Randy Moss. To give you an idea of my man love for Garnett, I’d even take Moss back if it meant I could keep Garnett.

Good luck and much love, KG. I’ll root for you no matter what jersey you wear. You were Kirby without the championships or wife beating.