Thursday, July 27, 2006

Crime Emergency Update: Armageddon It!

Come on, now. I understand that there was a need to declare a "crime emergency." But is there some sort of higher rated circumstance the DC Police can place around the are where the Rock Creek Rambler's car is parked? A "crime apocalypse" maybe? Because his car's been broken into, like, FOUR TIMES this month. Surely any flatfoot looking for an easy collar has got his car on lockdown right now--catching criminals is like shooting fish in a barrel.

Seriously. By last count, that British dude has only been killed ONE time. From what I hear, they're forcing black people in Georgetown to carry signs that say, "I mean you no harm, my beloved European cousins!" and keep their last four tax returns on their person for random inspection. So, if no one else is willing to do it, I am hereby raising the terror alert level around the Rock Creek Rambler's car to the cover of Def Leppard's Hysteria album.

Please, police. Pour some sugar on that motherfucker, already.

DCeptette: Cuddle thrash! verson.

  1. Apparently Sommer and Matt Yglesias recently doubted Mr. Kriston Capps--a fine, frequently shot at, upstanding citizen--of inventing his banana allergy. I can attest, however, that this allergy exists and that I am similarly afflicted. A pity, because the nanas are tops. But I can't eat them. And, like Kriston says, I can't eat melons (honeydew and canatloupe specifically) for the same reason. I've never had any trouble with avocado, though. And I share Kriston's hatred of kiwi fruit. But the banana allergy exists. I've got your back, KC. And not just because I still owe you $$ for Sleater-Kinney tickets. [Grammar Police]
  2. So, Clarendon's been circling the drain for quite some time now. The coming of the Cheesecake Mosque signaled the onset of acute lameness, and the condition's been looking more and more terminal. Evidence of its persistent suckatative state include Arlington's continuing desire to transform the hood into a fugtified high-rise nightmare, the Ebola like spread of ever crappier Irish pubs (including one, Shitty OkaysKitty O'Shea's, which, as a testament to its condescending ridiculousness, has signage on the front that says "An Irish Pub"--the mere fact that they think that a passerby of minimal IQ would mistake "Kitty O'Shea's" as an attempt at a Thai fusion cafe is proof enough that the establishment has about as much to do with Ireland as it does with Scooby Fucking Doo), and the fact that Saturday nights at the Clarendon Metro Station has become a veritable Jeff Corwin Experience of the study of free-range douchebags in their natural habitat. But with the news that Clarendon institution Lazy Sundae has been kicked out all the way to Falls Church should dispel any hope that the neighborhood will one day recover from its current affliction. [Arlington Connection]
  3. So, one day after a strategic leak allowed Maryland Senate candidate unleash his novel "self-hating Republican" strategy--don't laugh, it's a winning idea given the fact Bush is about as popular as psoriasis--he takes it a step to far with this reality-bending statement: ?The president doesn?t want a sycophant in the United States Senate...He doesn?t want a ?yes? man. He wants someone who?s going to be genuine in his approach to solving the problems." Of course, every piece of factual evidence points to the fact that sycophants and yes-men are PRECISELY what the President prefers (and precisely what Steele is), and if you don't believe me, ask the Republicans who really DO have Scarlet Letters pinned to their chests. [Wonkette]
  4. "Almost every single person I have spoken to since returning from Orlando has had the same three words to say: Armpit. Of. America." I can say from personal experience, that's being charitable. [Don't Waste the Pretty]
  5. Everytime I hear "It's All Right to Fight" by Ninja High School, I think about how that song is totally going to be the opening credits song to Pygmalion In a Blanket: The Movie. So dovetaily. Anyway, get set for the next round of genius/unhinged bit of home crafting. [PIAB]

Wednesday, July 26, 2006

This week on DCist

It's Wednesday. Time to chronicle whatever bug has ended up in the ass of the DCist commentariat.
And by the way, 100% of the people who are currently abbreviating Columbia Heights with phrases like "CoHi" or "Cheights"--we're done with you. I mean, we get it, okay. You're really insecure. But as of now, we'd just as soon see the lot of you frogmarched across the Maryland border at the end of a bayonet. So suck it up, develop some sense of self-worth, and cut that shit. T.E.T.S., bitches.

I think I'm the only one who got Stephen Colbert's best joke tonight.

Admittedly, it's a bit of a thinker. I've given you a clue.

"Wow. Bill Donoghue really opened my eyes. I had no idea that secular Jews were keeping Catholics down. Food for thought.
"
--Steven Colbert, a Catholic

Tuesday, July 25, 2006

Highlights from Hill Hotties 2006

Ever since the calendar page turned to July, we've noticed a dramatic uptick in the number of people visiting here looking for the 2006 update to The Hill's 50 Most Beautiful People. Well, your wishes have been answered. Yes, it's that time of year again--The Hill prepares their crapulent website for the additional visits, collars are popped and hair extensions slaved over in anticipation, and our fair city suffers the indignity of the rest of the world thinking that this is the best the entire metropolitan area has to offer.

And, in three years of covering this mess, we have a request: The Hill, couldn't you look into your heart and maybe cut this down to 25 Most Beautiful People? You'd lose nothing but whatever ad money is coming in from those tatty banners on the right side of the page. Because once again, this years class mixes some lookers of note with others who dully represent all that's most depressingly distinctive of the khakified snore-culture of Capitol Hill. It's not fair that some of these people have to share space with the rest of these background-fading, west of Union Station
nobodies. And, as far as hotness in the classic sense goes, they're almost all dwarfed by the interns identified by Alex Pareene over at Wonkette earlier this year--those kids may exist only to serve as the supplicant targets of their full-time colleagues cum torpedoes, but at least they are good looking.

But it's not all bad. Last years harvest, while hotter by several measures, apparently had accomplishments so slight that The Hill didn't even think it meet to identify them. Not so, for this year's group--The Hill has seen fit to give credit where credit is due.


The Hill bends over backwards to point out that Michelle Persaud, staff counsel to the House Judiciary Committee Democrats, is NOT Iranian. Okay? Not Iranian. The winner of this year's 50 Most Beautiful Hillites actually hails from Guyana. She's a deserving winner--so much so that you sort of wish whatever Ansel Amateur took the picture didn't include so much of the concrete and steel grate in the picture. A hopeful nation thus still waits longingly for The Hill to discover what the rest of us colloquially refer to as the "crop tool."


One of the reasons oil is so expensive these days is that an inordinate amount of OPEC crude is used to lovingly sculpt Legislative Aide Jamie McInerney's coiffure.


Most of the people who end up on this list hand over a picture or have a quick pic taken on their lunch break. But every year, there's at least one person who WANTS IT bad enough that they're willing to break the land speed record for "trying too hard." This year, it's Jimmy Parrish who decided that he's a winner, dude! He's going for it! You can practically hear this fuck updating his resume even as we speak.


Alena Klimianok has travelled all the way from Belarus to learn about democracy. Unfortch, she's ended up in the employ of DC's shadow Senator Paul Strauss, which is sort of like travelling all the way from Belarus to learn about walking from Steven Hawking or natural childbirth from Tom Cruise. However, she credits her youthful good looks to a daily regimen of not being an Eastern European woman repeatedly sexually assaulted by David Dickerson.


What is it that makes Anjulen Anderson look like the most earnest doily in the world? Is it the crazy eyes? The pink alpaca-hair sweater, thick as chain mail? The necklace made of popcorn?


Beth Zentmeyer is what Laura Bush would look like if she were drenched with stem cells every day for a year.


Hey, Senator Ensign! How's the new J. Peterman catalog coming along?


If Senator Carl Levin has any hope getting backstage passes to the Lupe Fiasco show, it rests in the hands of Jason Hill.


Seriously? John Boehner? On the 50 Most Beautiful list? You realize that the corpses of men who died shovelling slag off the roof of Chernobyl have healthier skin, don't you?



It's not certain what animal forsook its hide to provide Mary Bono's aide, Krissy Rodriguez, with this fugtified nightmare of a suit, but we're all hoping death came quickly and painlessly.



Get a look at Rick Santorum's staff leprechaun, Maureen Ryan, while you have a chance, because if the polls are any indication, she'll be back policing the sodomy-soaked streets of Glocca Mora this time next year.



Last year, Capitol Hill policeman Dominic Blasi donned the Towering Hat of Justice for his picture. He's since bequeathed the hat and the honor to Melissa Rivord.


If political points were given out for the shapeliness of Capitol Hill chin divots, Michael Robbins would be a force to be reckoned with. Luckily, we are not yet, as a species, quite that stupid.


The Hill says of Nora Kaitfors, soccer playing hottie from Minnesota, that she " hasn't done much singing since she came to Washington." Which is a fancy way of saying she hasn't been indicted yet.


Oswaldo Palomo is frequently lit from below by his mighty, glowing cock.


At Susan Collins' office, Patrick Hughes primary duty is polishing the desks to within an inch of their life. He's got some jargon-infused, euphemistic way of describing that task on job interviews, though. His dad, by the way? Owns a dealership, natch.


The Hill seems to think Sam Arora "bears an uncanny resemblance to actor Ben Stiller," which is strange because we don't remember Ben Stiller ever looking like a buck-toothed ninny.


Can't fault The Hill for giving one of their slots to an English Major from the University. Wahoowa.


Spivey Paup, winner of this year's "Bruce Willis named me" award, has a bright future in politics. I mean, look at how well those jowls are coming along! Plus, he definitely has the ego for public service: "It's kind of funny. They remember my name, but I never remember theirs." Sounds like he's got constituent services down pat.


It's a little bit surprising to find an NEA lobbyist rocking that porn facial expression better known as the "Wow. Is all that cock for me?", but Staci Maiers excels in a field mostly dominated by pharmaceutical representatives and dot-com boom-era HR sluts.


While we lament Representative Debbie Wasserman Schultz's decision to waspify her tresses by flat-ironing them with apocalyptic vigor, she still proves definitively that not all J-Dates are created equal.


Well, The Hill saves us something best for last. Meet Whitney Warrick, who's really quite genuinely lovely and who, for my money, appears to be one of those rare few who are genuinely genuine. She hates guys who pick her up in bars and gets bored talking about politics. Whitney, please, for us, seize control of the country just as soon as humanly possible.

Friday, July 21, 2006

Fortune Favors the DCeiver

How hot is this? The preliminary report from the mechanic is that the car I believed to be potentially damaged beyond repair as a result of Deluge 2006 has somehow found a way to sort through it's myriad problems and heal itself! WTF to the max! We hope this storyline continues.

It's Friday, the day I usually try to get you all to see either The Memorandum or The Arabian Night, but guess what? Both shows: sold out through the weekend. If you want to pay to play this weekend, either come early enough to rough it on the waiting list or check out the Capital Fringe Festival downtown.

Thanks to the Powers That Be for kicking me some love for the weekend.

Thursday, July 20, 2006

DCist 1, Examiner 0

So today, Ryan Avent and Colin Peppard responded to an insanely asinine editorial in the Examiner with a well-orchestrated online takedown that brims with vim. Hint: you may be seeing it in another forum soon enough. You have to admire the effort, especially from Ryan--he's on his way out the door and out of the country, but he still has the focus to take a moment and polish off the Examiner, like he was settling all family business.

You can read what they have to say, here. There's not much need, or indeed room, for further comment, but if I may inject, the shakiest--indeed most non-sensical--part of their premise is their attempt to paint Metro as a tool of the elite. Hilariously, they select, from among other exclusive communities, Fairfax County--known colloquially on these pages by their highly appropriate nickname, "Band Camp"--as their idea of Metro riding princelings, as if a) Fairfax didn't have a middle class, b) Fairfax didn't have a lower class, c) it was unnecessary for anyone to ever have to ride out there from elsewhere, and d) most people experience the Vienna Metro as a cross between British Airways and the Acela crossed with being a demi-billionaire toff. What to the evs, Examiner.

But the HILARIOUS thing is the Examiner coming off like they've earned the place where they belong criticizing anyone for being a tool of the elites. In the vast history of Pot Kettle Expressionism, the Examiner's comments in this regard are, indeed, the Chateauneuf de Pape of unintended irony. Need we remind you, Examiner, of your own newspaper distribution policy?

Yeah. When WMATA starts chucking unsolicited Orange Line trains on the front yards of Fairfax County, then we start talking about elitism. Until then, Washington Examiner, shut the fuck up.

What a week.

July. It never fails. I get busy. It gets humid. I get tired. Sorry for the lack of content. It's a very busy time--besides work, we're closing out The Memorandum, sending a car to the grave, getting vacation plans in order, dealing with home repairs, and writing all kinds of crazy stuff for the Fringe Festival. Somehow I managed to finally pick up and finish How Soccer Explains the World. Fascinating stuff and highly recommended.


There will be more, hopefully, later. But, because we missed it on Wednesday, here's your portrait of the DCist commentariat. And for the record, I agree with Joe Queenan when he called Baltimore as "a slum with a nice aquarium." Though I sometimes fondly think of Baltimore as "that tube I go through to get to New York City."

Anyway.


Friday, July 14, 2006

The Steve King Electrified Border Fence for Mexicans Who Can't Jump Good.


What is this? An electrified border fence for ants?! The fence has to be at least...three times bigger than this!

[Wonkette.]

Thursday, July 13, 2006

DCeptette: Crime Emergency and I version

  1. Did you hear about the time some white people died and the entire city went more bananas than a gaggle of bipolar hypoglycemics at an Easter Egg Roll? A CRIME EMERGENCY has been declared! CRIME EMERGENCY differs from all other times in the city, hereafter known as CRIME WE'LL GET TO IT WHEN WE FEEL LIKE IT. Though, maybe it's just us, but it seems that the only thing the state of CRIME EMERGENCY does is accord the Chief of Police a brief window of time during which he is allowed to exert actual authority over the police force? [Washington Post]
  2. But, nevermind, people! CRIME EMERGENCY! Time for John Aravosis over at America Blog to completely come apart at the seams and compare Washington to A Clockwork Orange. Jesus, I wish! Most nights, I go out and end up feeling so shagged and fagged and fashed--it being a night of no small expenditure. I could use a 24 hour milk bar to get some milk plus vellocet or synthemesc or drencrom. Then cap it off with a bit of old Ludwig Van. Great bolshy yarblockos to you, Aravosis, for getting my hopes up. [AmericaBlog]
  3. Though, from what we hear, the dregs of the droogs will soon come to be located at Madhatter. [Why.I.Hate.DC]
  4. Of course, this didn't help: On this day in the history of Rock in DC, the lowly remnants of the Axis of Navelgaze took to the DCist comment stream to announce the launch of their fatwa against Georgie James. [DCist]
  5. On days like today, it's good to have a little bit of levity. And what better joke than professional schmuck Robert Steinbuch, who stuck himself into the stalactite-ridden cooter of Jessica Cutler and now needs twenty million dollars from anyone even remotely involved in forcing him to take responsibility for his own choices so that he can feel good about his dick again. Yes, Metropolitans, who will survive this...CRIME EMERGENCY! [The Reliable Sourceresses]

Wednesday, July 12, 2006

This Week on DCist

Conversations in real time.

[On the set of THE MEMORANDUM, an hour before last Sunday's performance.]


DCeiver: Mike, I hear that you'd like me to cut the fisting bit.


Michael Dove: I had a note on that.


Cast member: Fisting bit?


DCeiver: When I talk about Dr. Savant "making up the part about the ychajz ybul." It's in Ptydepe. I just thought the audience might like to know what "ychajz ybul" might be.


Michael: Okay, but fisting?


DCeiver: There's not a lot of time to do something elaborate. That was the gesture that sort of...came out.


Michael: Yeah, I think we should cut it.


DCeiver: Hey, that's cool with me. The fisting bit is cut.


Michael: Thanks.


DCeiver: Oh, Michael, by the way...


Michael: What?


DCeiver: This has easily been my favorite conversation with a director, ever.

Friday, July 07, 2006

And, by the way, today is the Dinerversary.

Happy Birthday to me! The DCeiver, conceived in part to tell the story of a boy who could poop anything, with the expressed intention of impressing Marybeth Fritsky, has become two years old (give or take) today. And the second year was tres eventful, filled with Doocings and Wonkettery and awesome live music events and new DCist editors and my eventual ability to actually parlay starting a blog into a nice chunk of long-term folding money. The teatime of the soul was, at times, lengthy, dark, and bereft of scones, but the ending? Happy. We look forward to more of the same, and, who knows, may even be able to provide you readers with something approaching consistency this year. As always, The DCeiver would like to thank the good people of Namibia for all their help.

Today's update to the Washington Times style sheet

"Remember: When covering certain stories, the use of scare-quotes is absolutely essential, regardless of whether their deployment makes any sense or not. After all, the gays aren't going to defame themselves."

Show reminders

Lest you forget, performances of The Memorandum and The Arabian Night are continuing this weekend, and tickets are available for each production. The current rumor is that Wife of DCeiver will join DCist's newly minted editrix and Law and Order: Special Grammar Unit out at H Street this very evening. Stalk away.

I hope that Forum and Rorschach might explore the possibility of swapping environments for one show. They'll get to spend an extra hour exploring one another's bodies and salivary glands at H Street, but will be forced to do so on our antiseptic office setting, and we'll get to bounce around their super-Fahrenheit Getman-constructed monster, but we'll have to get through the show in only 55 minutes. Just something to consider.

DCeptette: We refuse to be bullied by facts version

  1. Shorter FishbowlDC: "Would someone please come along and write this blog for us?" [Fishbowl, later growing increasingly desperate.]
  2. We issued a call yesterday to unite behind the banner of the Butterstick Liberation Front, and already, we've identified at least one comely lass whose ardor for the Stick is described as "militant." The need, you Friends of the National Zoo, is great. Just today we read about how the Chinese are apparently disembowelling Falun Gong adherents as a part of some forced organ donation campaign! Uhm, yeah. These are JUST THE PEOPLE we want negotiating with Kim Jong Il! Anyhoo, surely we cannot possibly submit Butterstick to their tender mercies. [1115]
  3. The honorable Matthew Perpetua will be joining Bluestate this weekend on the decks at the Black Cat, so, you can expect to be asked to dance to the Fiery Furnaces. My challenge to the esteemed Fluxblogger and the rest of the Bluestate crew: which one of you will have the balls to drop "Up In Dem Guts?" You better recognize. [Aziz Ansari is Bored]
  4. Warning. New York City is conspiring to take Karl Miller away from us. [What's Good/What Blows]
  5. "Drinking manganese, I think I'm drinking manganese I really think SO!" [WJLA]

Thursday, July 06, 2006

Tonight! Celebrate Stickmas!


DCist brings you the official be-all, end-all Butterstick Birthday celebration tonight at the Mambo Room. Owing to a Memorandum we've received, the DCeiver will not be able to attend. But the need for your attendance is great, because it is tonight that we begin the Butterstick Liberation Front. We have 365 days to come up with a cogent plan for keeping the Stick on these shores, rather than sending him to China. My idea: get Christopher Hitchens wasted, sew him up in a panda costume with 50 pounds of sawdust* and ship his ass on the slow-boat, Jack Bauer-stizz!

*I'm guessing that this sort of environment is indistinguishable from a typical hungover Hitchens morning, especially if Hitchens manages to copiously piss himself during the night, as I suspect he does.

DCeptette: Dig me out version

  1. It's Sommertime! Congrats to Sommer Mathis, who has become the latest blogger to wear the mantle of DCist editor. We credit her liberal "give the contributors milkshakes" policy as the means by which she rose to this position. Now, we need to find an intern willing to go to the gym and watch TV for her. [Cruel Sommer]
  2. Many thanks to DC's version of Mo Rocca for coming through on the Sleater-Kinney ticket procurement front. [Grammar.Police]
  3. Theatrically-minded people should take note that for the time being, The Rorschach Theatre Blog is DCeiver-enabled. I've already been told that constant profanity may cost us our audience of middle-school English teachers. So, I've got some fucking shit to get out of my fucking shit-ass system on these pages. Fuck already. Jesus. Anyway, look to those pages for The Shows That Rorschach Will Not Be Doing Next Season. And, in advance, I say: Sorry, middle-school English teachers. Keep on helping the children. This too shall pass, as soon as Scotty finishes his mid-life crisis tour. [The Rorschach Theatre Blog]
  4. If you are of the literary bent and in the market for a brand-new, hilariously surreal blog, check out The Infantry.
  5. Trapped in a Yoplait commercial? Uhm, okay. We'll just go with that. [Craigslist]

Conflagrations.

We at the DCeiver hope that all of you had a splendid Independence Day, whether you braved the heat and torturous squalor of the National Mall or, like us, celebrated indoors. Because we have lately, and with good cause, declared a pox on rainfall of all sorts, we retired to the lovely Elissa Ewalt's new apartment for grilling and fireworks viewing in high-definition. We got to watch the pyrotechnics in DC, New York City, and Boston in this way, and, happily, we can report that Washington's were the superior of the three, this, despite the presence of an actor from the movie Boat Trip. 1812 Overture is still superbestevers, and it was nice to have a Stevie Wonder on hand to dispense some Songs in the Key of Life. Previous DC entrees included the abysmal Gloria Estefan, who, owing to a broken up spine is contractually forbidden from doing the Conga on pain of waiving her future health care coverage, and The Pointer Sisters, who turned out not to be the Pointer Sisters at all.

New York City's affair was hosted, I think, by Campbell Brown, which is de facto lame, and got by mainly on quantity over quality. Kudos, though, to the city's coordinated skyline blackout. That was cool. Boston's was easily the worst, despite the efforts of the Boston Pops, who are now apparently conducted by Mark Cuban, because it also featured a piss-poor performance by Aerosmith and suffered the slings and arrows of being hosted by Dr. Phil and his idiot wife, Ms. Dr. Phil. Also, the musical montage that accompanied the Boston pyros was tres perplexing. "Dirty Water", which naturally, should have concluded the affair, was infelicitously followed by That James Blunt Song. One hopes that anyone caught listening to James Blunt in Southie is given the killer whales treatment by the residents thereof, and when I say "killer whale", I mean they whale on them until they are killed.

The festive celebration of our nation got me thinking about the recently defeated "Flag Burning Amendment"--which this time out failed by one single vote. You know, I like the flag and all. She's a grand old flag and shit. But the Flag Burning Amendment has to be the worst application of Congressional power and the stupidest law ever proposed. Seriously. I have greater objections to people who drape the flag vertically and forget that the union is ALWAYS, ALWAYS, ALWAYS to be on the flag's right (the viewer's left). My thought is, if you have such a fragile ego state that you just can't survive the sight of a flag being burned, then you need to stay indoors and out of public life indefinitely. You are, in point of fact, a pussy. I have heard that in Japan, the ONLY flag it is legal to burn is the Japanese flag. I have problems with that on free speech grounds, but, if that's true, I have to hand it to the Japanese--that's a law with balls.

If you really need to have reasons why the Flag Burning Amendment is wholly asinine, pussified, and stupid, well, I got some.


  • In the first place, not to get all West Wing on you, but is there some epidemic of flag-burning occurring here in the United States that I'm not aware of? Seems to me that everytime I see someone burning a US flag, it's always overseas and the conflagree is someone who'd likely burn something worse given the chance.
  • Isn't it fair to say that 99.9% of the flags burned in the United States were the result of, uhm...fires?
  • Isn't it fair to say that more flags are rent apart by rampaging coyotes than are burned as part of some political protest?
  • One of the great things about free speech, to my mind, is that the blanket freedom also provides a blanket encouragement, which means dyed in the wool idiots are always out there, making themselves known to us, standing up proudly in order to be utterly discounted. Flag-burners are the classic "best to keep quiet and be thought a fool than open your mouth and remove all doubt" types. If anything, we should encourage flag burning.
  • And isn't passing a law against flag burning likely to have the unintended consequence of doing exactly that? I remember when I was a wee lad, walking into a Circuit City and seeing signs by all the televisions that said "Do not touch the television screens." Why on earth would anyone, ever, touch a television screen? Prior to seeing that sign, it had never occurred to me that some amount of pleasure could be had by touching a television screen. Sure enough, all the televisions in Circuit City were smeared with fingerprints.
  • Think about it: in 1871, the city of Chicago basically burned to the ground. The scope of the tragedy and damage was and is exponentially greater that what can be done to a flag, and yet nobody felt it necessary to draft a Constitutional amendment that read: "Hey. Don't burn Chicago."
  • Can you imagine going back in time, participating in the drafting of the Constitution, and being the douchebag who piped up: "Hey. Let's throw an amendment in there forbidding flag burning!" It's obvious that the suggestion would have been met with withering glances, and Thomas Jefferson would have undoubtedly snarked: "Uhm...maybe you aren't clear on the concept, here...we are building a new nation."
  • Is it that we cannot make new flags?
  • I say we make flags of asbestos. In the first place, they won't burn. In the second place, since most of our elected officials suffer the deep-seated need to be constantly wrapped in the flag, it would have the added benefit of a lot more politicians dying of painful cancers.
  • Finally, our flag, having been consecrated in fire, can certainly not be desecrated with fire.

The June Top 20

Quirky cover versions and the awesome Bishop Allen dominate my listening last month, which was otherwise a little light on the newness.

  1. The World/Inferno Friendship Society, "Velocity of Love"
  2. Permanent Me, "Dead To You"
  3. The Coup, "My Favorite Mutiny"
  4. Phoenix, "Long Distance Call"
  5. Rock Kills Kid, "I Need You"
  6. Bishop Allen, "The Bullet and Big D"
  7. Emm Gryner, "Waiting Room"
  8. The Pipettes, "Pull Shapes"
  9. We Are Scientists, "Hoppipolla"
  10. The Automatic, "Gold Digger"
  11. Bishop Allen, "Central Booking"
  12. The Charlatans, "Blackened Blue Eyes"
  13. Damone, "Stabbed in the Heart"
  14. Guillemots, "Cold Cool Moon"
  15. The Streets, "When You Wasn't Famous [Professor Green Mix]"
  16. Muse, "Supermassive Black Hole"
  17. The New Amsterdams, "Intelligent Design"
  18. Robyn, "Konichiwa, Bitches"
  19. Thom Yorke, "Atoms For Sale"
  20. The Format, "Oceans"