Hope everyone had a wonderful and educational weekend. I, for one, learned three very important lessons:

1) Everyone must watch the movie Grizzly Man, which they're playing the crap out of over on the Discovery Channel. If you haven't heard of this, it's a documentary using archival footage of this "activist" (read "delusional psychopath") Timothy Treadwell that lives with and eventually gets eaten by the grizzly bears in Alaska. This is a MUST SEE movie.

First off, Treadwell is out of his mind in the most compellingly watchable way possible. He has this naive, childlike way of idealizing the bears and saying things such as (and this is a direct quote) "I'm in love with my animal friends! In love with my animal friends. I'm very, very troubled. It's very emotional. It's probably not cool even looking like this. I'm so in love with them, and they're so f-ed over, which so sucks." After crying about the animals for a little bit, he'll snap into a paranoiac state and go on an expletive-laden tirade against the government and the park department, who are all out to get him. Of course they are.

But the added layer of entertainment is that Werner Herzog, the film's director, is JUST AS INSANE AS TREADWELL. He'll interrupt Treadwell's video footage with his nutty German voiceovers talking about his life philosophy, talking about how unlike Treadwell all he sees in nature is "chaos and murder." Crazy. It's a fascinating look into mental illness. Which brings us to...

2) Flavor of Love is the greatest. show. EVER! In last night's show, Pumpkin spit in New York's face, ending in a bit of a fracas. Awesome. Just awesome. I can't express my love for this show in words.

3) Smoking marijuana can really mess with you. This weekend, I attended a party during which my lungs may or may not have encountered some illegal substances (is my ass covered, legal department?). 3am rolled around and I thought it would be a great idea to leave the party and RUN home. So I ran the mile or so back to my house. In my altered state, it felt GREAT.

When I arrived at my house, I noticed some snow had fallen on the driveway and thought what anyone would naturally think: "It's the perfect time to shovel." So my roommate and his girlfriend came home to find a drunk, stoned guy shoveling their driveway at 3am. Stay off the wacky, kids.

There will be no journal tomorrow, as I'm off doing community service for my heroin bust. But to keep you entertained, Episode 4 of the podcast is up and running. Listen, love and listen again.

This is pretty cool - we were played on a Japanese podcast today. It's apparently geared toward obsessed Japanese fans of the video game Grand Theft Auto. Our core audience! Maybe we'll have to revive our Yoko'd up version of "Sophie" from the Beatles show. She's Japanese indeed.

In other news, I caught a little bit of the women's figure skating on the Olympics last night. What is happening to figure skating? These girls are all pre-pubescent now. Sasha Cohen looks like she should be reading Ramona Quimby, Age 8 and putting stickers of Donnie Wahlberg on her Trapper Keeper. Didn't Olympic ice skaters used to be actual women?

More importantly, what's the point of watching athletic women skate around in short skirts if you can't get some usable mental material for the old spank bank? Katarina Witt - now there was a woman. Hell, even Nancy Kerrigan had a little bit of a "please rescue me and my incredibly toned ass" vibe going that made the long program finals a two-tissue affair. But these girls now? Come on - it's turning into "women's" gymnastics. Let's get some eye candy out there that doesn't make you feel like you need to register with your neighbors right afterward.

The Olympics are one of the most fun events to heckle. Last night, I was watching with my upstairs neighbor H-Bomb and one of the skaters slipped. "Ooh, that sucked," she reacted.

"Yes," I responded, "but in all fairness to her, the ice is very slippery."

I've got Olympic fever. Catch it! And get ready for a new podcast on Monday! Podcast fever! Get your shots!

Good people, I know how much love hearing about my dreams and about podcasting, so I've got a double whammy treat for you: a dream I had last night ABOUT podcasting. Huh?

Actually, it wasn't completely about podcasting per se. I was walking up the stairwell of my old high school... of course. Don't all dreams take place in your high school? Even if they have nothing to do with the people from that time period, my dreams are almost always physically set at old HHS (Motto: There's only one black person per class year, but they're usually pretty calm about the whole thing.) It's like your dreams are cheap indepedent films and they can't afford a good location, so they just keep reusing the high school set even though it has nothing to do with the story.

So anyway, I'm walking up the stairwell and I run into Adam Curry and Drew from the Dawn and Drew Show. I start talking to them about podcast feeds and a bunch of other technical stuff when a girl I used to go out with (not from high school) walks by... and I don't have time to talk to her! Because I'm talking podcasting with these bigwigs. And she actually looks impressed that I'm hanging with Adam Curry. It felt AWESOME!

Then, Adam loses interest in me and starts talking to these high school girls (again, not from my high school) about how wrong it is to eat gouda cheese out of a plastic "I Can't Believe It's Not Butter" container.

Thoughts? Analysis?

Good morning, my beautiful little bumblefucks. Even though it's already Wednesday, this week is dragging my ass down like a crap-covered albatross. Who do I have to blow to get a weekend around here, huh?

Normally, I like to hoard good money-making ideas, but I'm in the mood to share this morning. A few weeks ago, the lovely Johanna and I were chatting about Britney Spears driving with a baby on her lap, when we came up with an idea for a website:

www.whokilledbritneysbaby.com

At first, it was just going to be a series of riffs of the classic tasteless "dead baby" jokes, inserting the words "Britney's dead baby" (i.e. "What's pink and red and doesn't cry anymore? Britney's baby in a blender.") I know, I know - dead baby jokes are HORRIBLE. But when we're talking about Britney's baby, it takes the edge off a little bit, doesn't it? Or is that just me?

After we ran through a few ideas, Johanna really started thinking outside the box. Rather than just Britney's dead baby jokes, she came up with the idea of producing a series of short videos of Britney accidentally killing her baby in different bizarre ways. Britney running over the baby with her car, accidentally putting its head down the garbage disposal, etc. Quite frankly, I think it's genius.

Why am I sharing this killer idea with you all? Because what with my podcasting and Scampering and Johanna's work on trying to track down Nicole Brown's real killer (the early 90's were a great time for topical humor, weren't they?), we just don't have the time to make this creative vision a reality. But its important that this idea doesn't die on the berthing table. Someone out there must make www.whokilledbritneysbaby.com a reality. Come on, kids - the domain name is still available as of... now. So go to work, you sick little George Lucases.

Let us know if we can help you at all. Although quite a busy young lady, Johanna has expressed willingness to portray Britney.

I hope you all enjoyed your long weekend as much as I did, my little whophins - that's a half-whale, half-dolphin hybrid. And yes, it's real. Way to go, science!

The show at the Paradise Lounge was just terrific - even better than the last show we did at the Paradise Lounge. And if you'll remember, THAT show totally reeked of awesomeness! So you can imagine how much of an awesome stank Saturday's show had on its downlow. Some highlights:

- We showed up early, as is the custom in Scamper. We're very prompt young laddies. As I mentioned last time we played the Lounge, the Paradise doesn't give the band free drink tickets as is the practice of most clubs. Instead, there's a V.I.P. area ("Very Incontinent People") where they have a case of beer for all the bands to "share" the beers.

Well, Scamper's report card when it comes to beer-sharing may as well read "Does Not Play Well With Others." We hoarded that beer like a bunch of Afghani warlords. We figured Casey Desmond is underage, so we could drink her beers. When the Glass Set showed up, they were very sweet. They asked us permission and apologized for taking our beer. We tried to explain that it was their beer too, but our body language (hunched around the cooler like jackals) must have told a different story. Yay free beer!

- As I've mentioned before, the onstage sound at the Lounge is the best in Boston. We really love playing there - even Nate managed to straighten out his monitor/amp karma that was bugging his ass last time and have a great show.

It wasn't flawless, by any means. During one particularly sexy part of the set, Nate and I jumped off the stage to seduce the audience with our manly pelvic thrusts, which was working fine... until I became unplugged (my bass, not my pelvis). Sheepishly, I had to creep back on stage and plug back in to finish the song. That's what I get for trying to sex it up.

Of course, everyone that came to the show were awesome awesome AWESOME. It doesn't matter how the club is set up or what the situation is, you guys always infuse the room with such energy and fun. We never forget - it is a joy and privelege to play for you guys. For real.

- Speaking of priveleges, we are really lucky to have gotten to play with Casey Desmond. At only nineteen, this girl has a voice that will knock your head down your throat into the base of your stomach and then you'll throw your head back up and look at your Uncle Bob and say, "Wow - that was weird. Did you see what just happened to my head?" and your Uncle Bob will say "Will you shut the fuck up? I'm trying to listen to Casey Desmond, ass wipe!" She's that good. She's on the fast track to stardom, so catch her in town next time you can.

Thanks again for all the folks that came out to see us. We heart you a million times.

If you haven't checked it out, Episode Three of the Scamper Podcast is up and running, featuring our good friends Aloud.

I woke up this morning to find tiny red sugar hearts and pink sprinkles stuck to the bottom of my bare feet. I looked down - hearts and sprinkles all over my bedroom floor. I know what you're thinking and no - TT the Magic Bear did not make another surprise visit to Scamperland (listen to the first podcast if you don't get that joke, jerky).

No, I learned a valuable lesson last night. A lesson that will stay with me for all of my days: don't let Mike Mirabella in your room if he has just purchased a box of half-off Valentine's Day cookies. In fact, as a general rule it's best if you don't let Mike Mirabella in your room at all. Cookies are really the least of the damage he can do, to be honest with you.

Say what you will about his messy cookie eating - that boy can play him some drums. Don't believe me? Come on by the Paradise Lounge tomorrow night as Mike and his supporting band (Scamp-something? I think?) play a big ol' rock and roll show with the sugar-sweet Casey Desmond and the pink and frosty Glass Set.

I hope y'all enjoy your long and rainy weekend, except those jerks like Hogg who live in New Hampshire, where they don't believe in federal holidays or taxes or the Tooth Fairy.

We're almost through the work week, my brave little soldiers. Then, it's a nice loooooooooooooong weekend, including a bonus Scamper show at the Paradise Lounge. It's a Saturday night show in a great venue and you have two whole days to recover from you drunken mischief. So don't be a jerk-faced jerk and miss it.

Now, I know that I spent yesterday's journal space threatening to inject the wombs of the ladies in attendance at Saturday's show with my potent genetic jamba juice. I really must apologize for this atrocious behavior (and disturbing visual). It was completely out of line. In my defense, I had spent a solid two hours with the cutest toddler in the history of the world and was still in baby hangover mode. I'll admit that my biological clock took a little bit of a spanking. I am, after all, still a human being with human balls.

Luckily, I have now fully recovered from this uncharacteristic yearning for offspring and have returned to my normal, commitment-dodging self. So ladies, you can feel free to come by the Paradise Lounge on Saturday night without feeling the need to defend your uteruses (uteri? uterae?) from my powerful penile attacks. The pony is officially back in the stable. However, I will be accepting anonymous handies in the VIP room. If you're interested. No pressure or anything.

But what about the fellas? What's in it for you? Well, we're playing with the Glass Set and the lovely Casey Desmond. Check this shit out:



Yup yup. Uh huh uh huh. That's what I'm talking about. Ah-OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-Gah!

Okay, that was just embarrassing. Let's pretend this whole journal entry didn't happen, shall we?

Well, Uncle Boogie and Uncle Diggy survived two solid hours with the patented Jason Michel Wrecking Machine. There was some singing, some reading books, some spoonfeeding... but mostly it was banging on shit and throwing giant Legos around the room. It was tons of fun and we didn't even have to throw him out in the snow bank to muffle his crying. By "him" I of course mean Nate. Some highlights:

- We knew that we had struck a chord with a particular game we invented when Jason would start jumping up and down and yelling "boogie diggy boogie diggy boogie diggy!" at the top of his lungs. A simple and pure rewarding feeling that's rare in this complex world of ours.

- At one point, he pointed to the curtains and said "No no no!" We ascertained that he wasn't allowed to play with those curtains when Mommy and Daddy are around. Well guess what, kid? You're with your uncles now. All rules are out the window. Rip that shit down if you want to. Turns out he just wanted to play peekaboo.

- When Keith and Alena came home and asked about how he did, I reported "Well, we taught him some new words: 'brokeback mountain.' Oh, and he's fully toilet trained now."

- That little guy really kicked my biological clock in the ass last night. God damn - evolution is a powerful thing isn't it? (And by "evolution," I am of course referring to intelligent design.)

Maybe I'll find a few wombs amongst which I can spread my seed at the Paradise Lounge this Saturday night. Don't worry, fellas - there's something in it for you as well, as we're playing with Casey Desmond and the Glass Set.

Happy Valentine's Day, lovers. I hope your plans tonight are potentially quite zexxxy indeed. As for me, I can't wait for this evening to begin, as I have a very hot three-way date with this man:



... and this man:



That's right, Uncles Boogie and Diggy babysit Jason... the Sequel. Last time we sat with the little guy for a couple of hours, he was absolutely great. He threw magnetic letters on the refrigerator and then on to the floor. He threw coat hangers around the room. It was a blast... until he looked around and realized his mother wasn't there. Then, it was total meltdown time. Crying, screaming - no amount of distraction could soothe his poor little unhappy soul.

This time, we're thinking he'll do a little better - he's a little older and a whole lot wiser. He's a completely different man this time around. For instance, he knows what a cow says now ("Boo") and we're hoping he's going to offer some insight into the Human Genome Project with which he's been helping. Of course he's smart enough at 17 months to map genes in his spare time. He's Keith and Alena's progeny, for Pete's sake.

I'll let you know how it all works out tomorrow. Anyone got any big plans for the evening? I mean, besides pre-gaming for the big Scamper show at the Paradise Lounge on Saturday night with Casey Desmond and the Glass Set? Poo?

Happy Monday, snow bunnies. I trust you're all popping ibuprofen to take care of that screaming lower back pain from all the shoveling this morning. A few quick ones to take the boo boos away:

- I know I'm not allowed to talk about this anymore, but the Scamper Podcast Episode 2 is now available for your downloading pleasure. We hope you enjoy it or at the very least enjoy it more than Star Wars Episode 2.

- While I can't really say that I have "Olympic fever" this year, I will admit that I was surprised to find out that I am apparently quite attracted to most of the members of the Norwegian women's curling team. Hmmm... that's something I did not know about myself. I'm not sure how to feel about it, so I'll go with "awesome."

- Hey hey: we've got a show this weekend. Yay! The Paradise Lounge on Saturday (the 18th) with Casey Desmond and the Glass Set. We're the only band without chicks in it, unless you count our girl Nathan.

I'm psyched to play the Paradise Lounge again - we had such a blast playing it back on the 25th. Great on-stage sound, good pizza, the lovely BU girls who will do anything for that MRS degree, etc. You should join us. It'll be fun. Come oooooooooon.

That's it for today, kittens. Anyone have any exciting weekend stories involving snow shoes and possibly a Yeti?

Morning/afternoon, soldiers - I've discovered another podcast I can recommend for all you newly converted podcast addicts: the Dawn and Drew Show. This is one of the most wildly popular podcasts on the net - their message board has like 40,000 active users or some crazy shit like that. That's one of the cool things about this podcast universe - there are huge stars in it that no one has ever fucking heard of outside the podcast community. It's weird.

Like most podcasts out there, the Dawn and Drew Show is basically just two people talking about their lives and goofing around. If the prospect of spending a half hour of your day listening to such a show compels you to gouge your eyes out with a rusty tire iron, I completely feel you. Honestly, there are a lot of boring and crazy people out there with podcasts. As much as I'm excited about the potential possibilities of the podcast world, 98.7245% of the shows are pretty freaking dull. But 98.7245% of anything is crap - music, TV, movies, literature. Why should podcasting be any different?

Dawn and Drew have that magic touch - it doesn't matter about what they're talking, it's always compelling. Probably because Dawn has a rare combination of perfect comic timing and a free-floating, sick imagination. Drew is a perfect straight man and they have a real natural, easy chemistry. I can't tell you why their show is so good, but it's addictive. Give it a try and see if you disagree. You'll be joining the minions soon.

Speaking of podshows, our song "Sophie" is being spun over on the Little Show today. We're part of the Podsafe Music Network, which shares our music with a bunch of podcasters out there. So if you're sick of regular radio and want to check out some new stuff, give a listen to some of the shows over at the Podshow site.

And get ready for Episode 1.2 of the Scamper Podcast on Monday morning! It's guaranteed to be a real let down from the first episode! Pah!

I didn't watch the Grammys last night - did Scamper win anything? They'll usually call you and tell you if you won, right?

Actually, I did manage to catch a few minutes of the show and fortunately, it was Mariah Carey's performance. I didn't know that Mariah Carey was still around. Boy is she ever! I was pleased to discover that a) she still can't sing worth a pile of caveman dung and b) her rib balloons still look fantastic. Like my good god damnity cricket! Boiiiiinnnnnggg!!

Remember back in the day when Mariah first came out? I was in junior high, I think. Everyone was debating who was hotter, her or Whitney Houston. Well, it looks like Father Time answered that age-old question, huh? Whitney looks like she was run over by a semi filled with crystal meth and self-loathing. Mariah, on the other hand, is still eminently boinkable. Way to go, science.

During her performance, I spent a good five to seven minutes discussing with my gay roommate whether Mariah's breasts were real. Correction - it was mostly me doing the discussing. He didn't really give a shit. I'd shake my head, cross my arms and say "Nope, they're fake," followed by about 30 seconds of enraptured silence until I break out with "Wait, did you see how they moved right there? I think they're real! Goddamnit, I think they're real!" Much homosexual eye-rolling was thrown my way.

The final verdict was that they're real and that gay people hate me. Does anyone have any thoughts on either subject?

Oh and check this out - I called it yesterday. The Globe is talking all about the verbiage and the use of the term "sexual harrassment." It's good to know someone over there is finally paying attention to me. You're welcome, Globe. Now can I have my credit card information back?

Those of you in the Boston area may have been following this brouhaha about a six-year old boy who was suspended from school for "sexual harrassment" for touching another little girl inappropriately. As is usually the case in events such as this, the media assholes get themselves all in a ratings-grabbing tizzy about sensitivity and political correctness going too far and yadda yadda yadda yawn.

On the surface, it does seem ridiculous to accuse a six-year old of sexual harrassment. We can assume that most six-year olds are ostensibly pre-sexual, or at least don't know enough about it to be accused of the same crime as say, oh I don't know, Bill O'Reilly for instance. From what I've read so far, there was no loofa (sp?) involved in the elementary school incident.

From my perspective, this is a great example of the power of language. The outrage about this incident is completely based on the words being chosen to describe it. "Sexual harrassment" seems like a ridiculous term to use next to the words "six-year old." Was it sexual harrassment? Probably not. But was it inappropriate touching? Absolutely. So why didn't they say "We're suspending your son for inappropriately touching a little girl." Bam. Little kids inappropriately touch each other all the time and there's no news story. You throw those words "sexual harrassment" into it and all of a sudden, it becomes political.

In conclusion, words are powerful. There's a big difference between what Keith did to Mike during scamphearsal last night (inappropriate touching) and the act Nate performed on Doug the Penguin in 2001 to cause him to leave the band (clearly sexual harrassment). Thoughts, counterpoints, suggestions for summer reading?

Thanks for all the great feedback on the podcast. Again, it's available for download over hnyaw. Keep those comments, emails and mp3s coming.

So I've finally crossed over to the other side, people: I've started getting up an hour early before work to go running. I used to run after work at 5, but now I'm one of those early morning annoying runner assholes. In the words of Nelson Munce, "I feel like punching myself."

In my defense, I don't run in the morning primarily for health nut reasons. I have found that I hate my day job sooooooooooooo much that I have just grown angrier and angrier over the years. It has gotten to the point where I'd walk in at 9, punch the clock, punch the walls, punch my co-workers in the larynx and then punch out at 5. So I needed something to take the edge off while I was at work, if just to save my knuckles from delivering such delicious yet furious sandwiches. Heroin is too expensive, so I went with running in the morning.

Still, I can't believe that this is what I've become. A mere year ago, the idea of getting up early was kryptonite to me. On weekends, I'd sometimes be able to drag my ass out of bed before 10:30am so I could hit the drive-thru before they stopped serving McGriddles. Sometimes. Now, I eat yogurt and granola in the morning... because I like it. I'm a disgrace to fat lazy slobs everywhere. And for that, I sincerely apologize. If you see me running tomorrow morning, just hit me with your car and put me out of my healthy, upbeat misery.

Hope you all had a loverly weekend. I subsisted almost entirely on pizza, nachos and beer this entire weekend. A vegetable wasn't anywhere to be found in the universe from Friday to late last night. Granted, I didn't spend a ton of time looking for one, but still - you think I would have come across something remotely healthy in my travels. Nope. All grease and wonderful, wonderful beer.

So in case you didn't check it out yet, the first episode of the Scamper Podcast is up and running over hnyaw. It's also up on iTunes for your listening pleasure. Hope you enjoy listening as much as we enjoy doing it.

We're hoping you guys get involved with the podcast as much as possible. You can send us lots of feedback - the easiest way is to comment over on the Podcast page or send us an email at podcast@scamper.net. Since we can't really take your phone calls like a real radio show, you can also send us audio comments or questions via emailing us an mp3 we can play on the air. It's fun for you to hear your voice on the old interweb and more importantly, it gives us something to talk about during the show. It's only been one episode and I've already had it up to here with talking to Keith.

Man, everything's coming up Milhouse for your buddy Brendo this Monday morning. Not only are we finally launching the podcast, but I'm running into a lucky streak or something. Yesterday, I found a whole bunch of my old shirts from high school in a closet at my parents' house that fit me again. So I've got a whole new wardrobe for free. AND I uncharacteristically won $20 in a Super Bowl pool last night. My traditional pattern is to whole the lead for an entire quarter and then lose with a junk time field goal. Not this year, baby!

Anyone want to ruin my day?

I'm oh-so-nervous about the debut of the podcast on Monday morning. I hope you all like it and, as an extension, like me as a human being. I'm pathetic and needy like that.

Some people have expressed some techno-fear about not being able to download the podcast. No worries - our boy Keith is on the job and he's going to spend the entire weekend testing the system to make sure everything is in working, easy and user-friendly order for the launch on Monday. Keith will very likely also be spending the entire weekend vomiting on his shoes. He's got a little stomach bug going. Awww.... ok, that's enough sympathy! Get back to work!

In other news, I know you professional gamblers out there are waiting for annual my Super Bowl prediction, so here it is: in the third quarter, Jerome Bettis will eat an entire lamb. He will be too bloated to finish out the game. Wager accordingly.

Have a safe drunken weekend, all.

Happy Groundhog Day, all. I hope you all didn't get stuck waking up in the same Bill Murray movie over and over again. Well, I guess that wouldn't be that bad, unless it was The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou. That one was a turd and a half.

In my research for doing the Scamper Podcast (premiering Monday morning right here on the scampernet fa fa fa), I've been browsing around the net to get an idea of what sort of podcasts are out there. I've got to say - it's a pretty exciting world. It seems like there's something for everyone.

Don't get me wrong - there's more than enough crap to clog up your earhole as well. I entered the whole podcasting world with a healthy skepticism, as I do when involved in anything on the internet. A few years ago, I remember people telling me how great the blogging world was going to be.

"It's the future!", they'd scream.

"It's a bunch of nerds consoling each other about the cancellation of Babylon 5!", I'd retort.

But there are a few good blogs out there I read every day. And yeah, the podcast world is pretty much the same thing. Lots of nerds, lots of filler, a few decent shows. But isn't that what TV and radio have become, really? It's mostly crap with a few good things that you like. Since Howard Stern left, there aren't any really good radio shows to which I regularly listen (except David Lee Roth, of course - that man is good). As much as I loooooove television, even I've got to admit that I'm not interested in 92% of what they show. But there are a few shows I really like (Dog the Bounty Hunter being my new favorite).

The cool part about the podcast movement is that there really is a large talent pool that's finally expressing themselves. There are plenty of funny, informative, interesting and entertaining people in the world. With the ease of podcasting, you can find their shows. Sound equipment is relatively cheap, so there's not a big dropoff in quality from broadcast-level productions. I suggest you check out some of the shows over at www.podshow.com, especially the Daily Source Code with former MTV veejay and current king of the podcast world Adam Curry. I think you'll be surprised at the depth and variety of entertaining shows.

The best part about it is that it's all niche-based - there's something for everyone. Basically, if you're really into bass fishing, there's probably a good bass fishing podcast out there. If you're trying to learn the Irish language, there are a few podcasts for you. If you're sexually aroused by bulky women struggling to open jars of mayonnaise... well, there may not be a podcast for you, but throw me an email. I've got a few magazines in my closet I think you'd like.

But I digress. The point is that the podcast world has something for everyone. As a matter of fact, let's do a little experiment, shall we? Everybody pick some weird subject that they're interested in and google search the subject + "podcast." See if anything comes up. I'll try one right now...

I randomly searched "podcast" + "kirk cameron" because hey, who's not interested in Kirk Cameron? And whammy! The Daniel Britt Interviews featuring Kirk Cameron talking about sharing your faith in Christ. Sounds enlightening, huh?

What else can you find out there in podcast land, apes?

Wow - my message board "war" with Robby Roadsteamer took an unexpected turn for the ugly last night. If I may, let me begin at the beginning:

I hung out with Robby a few weeks ago and was delighted to learn that in contrast to his brash onstage character, he's actually one of the nicest guys I've met in either the Boston rock or comedy scenes. We shot the shit for a bit and seemed to get along fine - he even recorded a little piece for the Scamper Podcast (debuting on this very site on Monday plug plug). So I figured even though I didn't know him all that well, we were at least cool enough to have a little good-natured spat on the Comedy Studio message board.

When I saw someone else (as Randy Savage) had taken a (weak-ass) shot at him, I figured it was a good opportunity to have a little fun, so I threw a little barb. As you can see from the thread, Robby shot back with some vitriol about me heckling him and how my huge head make my glasses look small. I wasn't really sure what he meant (I never actually heckled him), but I figured that he was just riffing and I went with it. I mean - who am I to deny the size of my enormous Irish melon?

Just to make sure we were cool, I shot Robby an email along the lines of "Ha ha - this fake fight sure is fun ha ha" to which he responded with this really serious email about me attacking his act and how he was just defending himself, etc. He thought I was serious. I couldn't believe it. But then he explained that there was a part of the story I didn't know...

Apparently, a few months back a bigger guy with glasses heckled Robby really violently at the Comedy Studio. He charged the stage and even got in Robby's face after the show. This guy was just a serious asshole and had to be thrown out. Somehow, the rumor got around that the violent heckler jerk was the drummer of Scamper. Obviously if you've spent more than two seconds with Mike, you know he's not even remotely capable of such behavior. Still, Robby was under the false impression that someone from Scamper hated him. Since we had only met the one time and he wasn't sure which guy from Scamper I was, he assumed (reasonably so) that the guy attacking him on the message board was the same guy that attacked him in real life.

So after a few rounds of explanations and apologies, Robby and I cleared it up and we're madly in love once again. But sadly, the fake fight is officially off. And really, an important lesson was learned: no more fake internet feuds with other bands for your buddy Brendo. The misunderstandings that arise aren't the fun, sexy kind they have on Three's Company. In the end, it's just not worth it.

Except with those dried-up douchebags from Aloud. I hate those guys.