As 2004 winds to a close, I can say without a trace of malarkey that this has probably been the best year of your buddy Brendo's young, but fruitful life. 1997 was good (I spent the year wandering the Irish countryside, stealing whiskey flasks from tinkers), but nothing could touch the pure, unadulterated goodness of ought four.

Besides the obvious joy of the Red Sox winning the World Series (oh my God! Can you believe the Red Sox won the World Series? It just hit me again.), 2004 brought me into this wonderful world known as Scamper, full of radio-ready pop rock, pillowy marshmallows and all-you-can-eat Chinese buffets. I'm happy and grateful to be part of it all and look forward to rocking with the fellas all the way through 2005 and probably into the first three months of 2006, afterwhich Keith will be killed in a tragic barcalounger accident. Curse this crystal ball!

Speaking of the future, it's time for a few New Year's resolutions. In 2005, I plan to:

- help pick up the broken pieces of manhood that used to be Nate and Mike when they return from New Orleans next week. It's not going to be pretty, people.

- learn to speak Spanish. Failing that, I'll learn Spanglish. Then, Engspan with a possible side order of Sanscrit. When I can't pull that off, I'll just hang out down at Anna's Taqueria and eat burritos.

- finally beat Mike Tyson's Punchout. I know the game is like 40 years old at this stage, but I just can't get by Don Flamenco. He paralyzes me with his Latin machismo.

- convince you to get that mole removed. Seriously, I'm worried about that thing.

- avoid tsunamis. What? Too soon?

- rock out with Fooled By April at the New Year's bash at the Lizard Lounge in Cambridge. Shill shill shill. Whore whore whore. I'm still sifting through those random "makeout at midnight" offers that have been rolling in. Dudes?

- appreciate how lucky I am every single day. Sorry, snuck in a serious one there. Have a great and safe New Year everyone.

Anyone else have any resolutions? Fa?

Want some more insider Scampermation? Perhaps maybe even a little Scampertainment? Of course you do, my hungry little alligators.

This morning, we in Scamper received the first of our dozens of daily emails from Keith. This time, he told us about the dramatic increase in user traffic to this very site since November, to which I responded:

Hmmm... what's different about Scamper this winter that could account for the bump in internet traffic? New haircuts? No, that's not it. Nate's renewed interest in Kabbalah? Nope.

Oh wait, I've got it. It's...

ME ME ME ME MEEEEEEEEEE!

I'm the king of the Scampernet now! You can all suck me!

The guys sure are glad they invited me into this band, let me tell you. There's no telling what the New Year has to offer.

Speaking of segues, I hope to see some of you at the Fooled By April New Year's Eve Bash at the Lizard Lounge in Cambridge. Still looking for someone to smooch at midnight. Fellas?

Hope all my little friends in interweb land had a happy happy and a merry merry. Furthermore, I hope your job had the good sense to let you stay home today, unlike mine boo hiss. Early morning + strenuous activity (snow shoveling) + coming to work = your buddy Brendo in a foooouuuuuuuul mood.

But let's be positive, kittens. I'll tell you about my happy good-time Christmas festivities. On the Eve, I had a little extended family brouhaha full of booze and good food. After a few hours, Santa arrived, much to the delight/terror of my little cousins (ages 2 and 3). After the kids had their Santa time and asked him a bunch of awkward questions (i.e. "How do you get down the chimney?" and "Why are you fatter than the other Santa from the mall?"), my cousin Frank corralled all the adults for pictures with Santa, two at a time.

After the usual pairings (mom and dad, brother and sister, etc.), we ran out of logical matchups. So we started selecting random duos. "Okay, Brendan and your cousin-in-law Mike." When all of those avenues were exhausted, we started working in random objects throughout the house. "Sean and this hammer. Get in there with Santa." "Chip and the asparagus dish. Come on - it's Christmas."

This is my family. And you wonder why I turned out the way I did.

Overheard at last night's Scamper rehearsal:

"Marshmallows! Yaaaaaaay!"

You know - when you join a rock band, you imagine that it's going to be wild coke parties, destroying hotel rooms and random oral sex from skanky townies. But when you join Scamper, you spend most of your time catching marshmallows thrown by Nate in your mouth and trying to remember who played Mrs. Garrett on The Facts of Life (Charlotte Rae). Wooo hooo! Rock and roll devil sign devil sign!

But I couldn't be happier. Happy holidays to all - I'll catch your asses next week.

My throat is sore this morning (near-constant rocking will do that to you), so I remedied the situation by indulging in the classic sore throat remedy: tea with honey. Honey is my favorite condiment, not necessarily because of its flavor, but because 9 times out of 10 it's served in a plastic bear.

That's all I've got today, friends.

[Scamper would like to apologize for the craptastic nature of today's post by Brendan. We're hoping it's the whole "holiday week" thing. We have his assurances that in the future, he'll try harder not to suck.]

Argh. Zee snow. Eet makes me so unhappeeeeeee!

Why did my pasty white ancestors settle in this snow-bound dookie-hole? Is the sun really all that bad? I mean, the snow forts were fun when I was a kid, but Jebus Christmas. Waking up to this weather fills my chest cavity with cold, frosty rage.

As distraction from the snowy purgatory in which we are all encased, let me tell you about my meeting last week. Like most rock stars, I work a day job (I sell propane and propane accessories). As part of this day job, I deal with "the public," who are - if you don't mind me saying so - a bunch of assholes. So occasionally, we have the folks from human resources drop by and give us refreshers on customer service. The folks from HR are almost always positive, cheery and very serious about their jobs. In other words, they're just asking to be fucked with.

So my colleagues and I were sitting around the table, sincerely discussing the challenges of customer service, when I said: "Actually, I enjoy the challenge of customer service. It's like being a good lover. I derive pleasure from intuiting what my partner's needs are and then satisfying those needs."

HR lady: "Uh... okay. Let's move on..."

I was going to write a long, multi-tiered narrative about the state of pop music in today's work-a-day world, but then I got an email this morning that changed my world:

"Pill that makes you hard AFTER you CUM!"

Have you guys heard about this? Got to love modern science.

And I was always under the impression that "come" was the verb form and "cum" was the noun. Any thoughts on that?

Yesterday, I read that ex-Pantera guitarist Dimebag Darrell is going to be buried in a KISS coffin (excuse me, Gene - I mean a "KISS KoffinTM."). When I read this, a few things came to mind:

- Whether you're into metal or not (I could give a shit), what happened to Dimebag in Ohio last week really sucks. Furthermore, it scares the shit out of me - I don't know if I'll step on a stage again without thinking about it. It's amazing how much trust we put in each other in group situations like shows, sporting events, etc. It's important to protect each other when we're out at shows and we should remember that, no matter how drunk and ornery we get.

- From everything I've heard and read, Dimebag seemed like a good guy. My friend Andy told me a story from when he was a kid first learning to play guitar. Dimebag made an appearance at a guitar store in Andy's town and shredded solos over a drum and bass track. Afterward, he hung out and talked with the kids (who obviously worshipped him) for over two hours. Shame his life was cut so short.

- Would any of you guys like to be buried in a Scamper casket? How about a Scamper Scasket TM?

If you've spent any time reading my old website (http://www.brokengatesfilm.com/), you know by now that my dad has led a more fascinating life than any of you ever will. Here's the latest nugget he dropped this weekend, between the dog's mid-morning walk and his late-morning walk:

My dad was working as a priest in London in the early 60's. At that time, the Beatles were just starting out and they were doing a tour of Catholic parishes in England. When they were playing at my dad's parish, he got a phone call from an old man. "It's too loud. I'm trying to sleep."

So my dad did what any sensible priest would do - he walked to the front of the stage and said to the Beatles (to the Beatles!) "Could you turn it down? We got a complaint." He said this... to the BEATLES.

After he said it, one of the Beatles ("I'm not really sure, but I think it was Paul McCartney") just laughed and started the next song.

So my dad shushed the Beatles. Beat that.

I figured my first post about baseball wouldn't be at least until January, but here are some thoughts on the latest doings:

- No matter where he goes and what he does for the rest of his career, Pedro will still be the greatest pitcher of all time. Watching him in his prime ('99-'01) was like nothing I've ever experienced before. I think I might have been actually in love with him at one point.

- He'd be insane not to take the offer the Mets are giving him. It's a retarded offer. Isn't it interesting how fans always take the side of the owners? People always say "What would I pay Pedro?" but no one ever says, "If I were Pedro, what would I ask for?" Why does the common man always take the side of the billionaire owners over the millionaire players? If I put myself in Pedro's shoes, my thoughts would go something like "These white fucks are making billions off my sweat and my shoulder. I'm going to take as big a piece of the pie as I can." But that's just me.

- The Mets are the worst-run organization, precisely because of giving out contracts like this. If they keep overspending on aging superstars, they're (in the words of my da) right eejits. I hope Pedro enjoys pitching out his career on a crap-ass team. And tell Mo Vaughn I said hello.

- After I wasted all that emotional energy on the Nomar trade last year, I don't get upset about shit like this anymore. I have total faith that Theo is going to do the right thing. I still think Larry Lucchino is a douche, though.

- Part of me is glad that Pedro will finish his career somewhere else. I'd hate to watch him deteriorate in front of us, have to listen to the racist Boston fans and media tear him apart. If he's going to leave, I'd rather he leave us with the image of the World Series trophy on his head and a midget by his side.

- Remember: Alex Rodriguez was our shortstop this time last year. Nothing is final until it's final.

Any thoughts, monkeys?

Hope the weekend was good for all my little monkeys. I spent Friday night at the Comedy Studio (third floor of the Hong Kong in Harvard Square) to see the funniest man in America - Louis CK. Some of you may know Louis as the director of the cult favorite Pootie Tang, but he is first and foremost a standup.

And he's the best I've ever seen. He opened with a bit about how if he went back in time, he wouldn't kill Hitler... he'd rape Hitler. Hitler's self-esteem would be so low after Louis raped him that he wouldn't have it in him to kill the Jews. I know it sounds awful, but trust me - it's really funny. Check out Louis if he comes to your town.

But don't have too many scorpion bowls at the Hong Kong, because you'll be out of commission for the rest of the weekend. You're not as young as you used to be, you know.

Many of you have been complaining that with all the press that Scamper has gotten lately, the band photos have been out of date. If I had a nickel for every time someone came up to me on the street and said, "Marc Roderick is so beautiful that it distracts me from your band's music - I want him so bad!" I'd be a nickel-lionaire.

So the boys and I finally hit the studio and had some new photos done. Here' s a sneak preview:




Speaking of publicity, this is what I would call good press.

Funniest thing overheard at this week's Scamper rehearsal, when Brendan presented a new song to the band, an (admittedly) softer number:

Mike Mirabella: You've got to think of a song as a woman. She looks good naked. We know this. It's our job to dress her up. Right now, she's wearing a sun dress and an Easter bonnet. We've got to get her in a leather jacket and a nose ring.

Reason #346 why Mike Mirabella is the coolest guy in this band.

Intrepid reporter Peter Yezukevich of the Somerville News has broken the scandal of the year, folks. It turns out that our own local rock god Keith Michel:




... is actually Hollywood hunk, star of Dazed and Confused and Saving Private Ryan, Adam Goldberg:

The world as we know it will never be the same...

Hello, creeps. Welcome to my new journal here in the scampernet. I will be writing primarily about pet llama care and Guttenberg-era printing press maintenance, but I will try to sneak in a little inside perspective on what it's like to be the newest member of your favorite rock and roll quartet, Scamper.

If you don't know much about me and my rascally ways, check out me in another life at http://www.brokengatesfilm.com/. Feel free to peruse the archives and chortle. If you happen to guffaw while you peruse, see a doctor immediately.

As my first order of insider business, I will fill you in on some of the questions and answers that did not get published in our recent interview with Luke ONeil at the Weekly Dig (available for your consumption in the INFO section of this very site! Fa fa!):

Dig: Do any of you own any white high tops?
Keith: I don't. But my shoes have been featured in several live show photos-- they are generally yellow.

Dig: Who do you think is the best band in Boston right now other than yourselves and your friends?
Keith: There are dozens. If I have to pick one, I'll give the nod to another bastard-child-of-Cheap-Trick band we've played with a few times but haven't seen around much lately: Nimmer.

Dig: How was your Thanksgiving?
Keith: Family, friends, and the first shipment of our new CD from the manufacturing company. Oh, and I prefer dark meat, thanks.

Dig: What's the deal with the Irish?
Brendan: As my Irish father often said, "Pog mo thoin, you feckin' gobshite!" Oh, and Father Ted is one of the funniest shows ever made.

Dig: What do you NOT have in common with Cheap Trick?
Brendan: Scamper will never play Budokan. For legal (and quite frankly, moral) reasons, drummer Mike Mirabella is not allowed anywhere near the country of Japan.

Dig: If your band was consumed with fundamentalist zealotry and was voted into executive office by millions of simpletons who hate the anal sex and love the freedom, what would be your first order of business?
Brendan: Law #1 - Every asshole from my high school graduating class would be forced, under penalty of prison time, to wake up at 4am, drive to the McDonalds at the Framingham rest stop of the Mass Pike, get trained by an assistant manager for 4 hours and make me a McGriddle. Law #2 - Every citizen named Luke O'Neil must pee sitting down.

Dig: What is so powerful about power pop anyway?
Nate: Power pop can save the world, all of us, together. And the chicks are great.

Dig: What has been the highest number of people simultaneously dancing atone of your shows?
Nate: Eighty or so 16-year old girls hopped up on birthday cake and Fresca.

Dig: Doesn't anyone give a shit about the rules anymore?
Nate: I'll tell you one thing: Mike Mirabella rules.