jason

I would like to speak about my favourite form of greeting in our North America. I know it as the curt nod. You may know it as the "I don't remember your name, but I like you so I will slightly lower my chin and lengthen the muscles in the back of my neck then bring the chin back up to show you that I acknowledge your presence".
I have relationships made up entirely of curt nods, and I hope they never change. This happens when you work in one of western societies melting pots of crazies, greedies, oldies, and teens "the mall".
Honestly when I see "shuffles" or "biscuits" coming down the mall towards me the muscles directly above my upper most vertebrae simply shudder with excitement at the social stretching that is to come.
There's something about this most simple of movements that evokes mysterious thoughts and speculation.
Now in other countries one must be careful to not call upon the curt nod as a form of greeting.
In Japan for example this would be considered rude and I have had all too vivid dreams of being wrapped tightly in seaweed and eaten raw next to a delicious red snapper for using the greeting in question. You see, it is expected in Japan that one is not lazy in their greeting habits, but here in our colder climate it is sometimes the only motion to make when wrapped inside our own metaphorical seaweed (parkas) and red snappers {(mittens)... I don't think that one works as well}.
So next time you see me give an enthusiastic curt nod (oxy moron, I know), and we'll be the best of friends.

Now if you'll excuse me I have a 9 o'clock with "Track Pants"

-Jason

ps thanks to dictionary.com for today's title.

Giant Hands, Confetti cannons, Santas, Aliens, lasers and mirrors.
This is what a show should be. This is what the show was. I have no more words.
All I can say is that it was the first show I've been to that I uncontrollably yelled at. Not screamed, yelled, at the top of my lungs like a crazy person. I actually lost control of my throat and lungs and started yelling nonsense.
If we as a band can ever do that to someone with our show I will consider myself successful.
And to Wayne, Michael, Steven, and Kliph I say.
I Love You.

Hey, you there. I'm a goin' to a sweet show. It's a Flaming Lips show. Get excited for me. It's in Minneapolis (actually a suburb of Minneapolis called Maplewood). I'm Really excited. I'll let you know how it goes. You and you alone shall learn the secrets of the weekend that is to be.
Keep it secret, Keep it safe.
-Jason

So we played a couple shows. I think they went well. It was fun to finally be back on stage doing what I love (yodelling). Oh yeah, last night we played Hocus Pocus For the first time. It ended the night well. Thanks to everyone who came out on the long weekend to see us.

But now to get to the point. If you're wondering about the title. I've been looking back on some of my previous titles and decided to have a make it so the title has nothing to do with the blog itself. This is mostly because I noticed that they are dangling on the precipice of being newspaper article titles. This horrifies me. You all know what I'm talking about. It's this phenomenon where journalists try their damnedest to make some sort of play on words in an attempt to impress us commoners.

For an example that could reduce even a leprechaun on ecstasy to slowly gouging out his eyes with a sharper piece of his precious gold I go back to the year 2002. The movie "My Big Fat Greek Wedding" came out and newspaper writers everywhere (mostly in Winnipeg) began rubbing their sweaty little palms together and drooling at the titles they would be able to write.
For the next 6 months to a year I couldn't open the local newspaper without reading "MY BIG FAT" something. It started off with "My big fat success" then escalated to Big Fat recipes and big fat street festivals and all the while I just wanted to wrap a Big Fat rope around my big fat neck then kick a big fat box from under my big fat feet.
Now I'm not saying that this movie should never have been made (it should never have been made). I'm only saying that newspaper article titles suck.
So the next time you read a blog of mine and the title makes you want to swan dive into a pool full of hypodermic needles, let me know. I appreciate your concern

Bigly And Fatly yours.
Jason