Without further ado, the winner of the 2007 Joe Welsh Memorial Least Shitty Post is...

(opens envelope) No surprises here - it's Brendo vs. the Tooth!

Since the tooth is now gone from my head, here to accept the award on the tooth's behalf is the Gaping Gum Hole In Which The Tooth Used To Live:

GGHIWTTUTL: "Wow. I mean this is really an honor. I know if the tooth were still alive today, he'd appreciate the fact that he caused Brendan enough pain and suffering to warrant his own journal entry. The tooth really fucking hated that guy. And who could blame him, really? I mean, would it have killed that fat little 8-year old Brendan to lay off the Sugar Daddies a little bit?

Now, I'm a simple gaping gum hole. I wouldn't dream of having the nerve (heh heh) to cause Brendan as much pain as my recently departed companion. Sure, I'm a little sore now, but he's already almost forgotten about me. But rest assured - the spirit of the tooth will live on in the creeping decay that he spread throughout the rest of Brendan's maw.

There will be more blood. Merry Christmas!"

And on that note, Merry Christmas to those of you NOT going to Hell. I'll be off the next few weeks and return strong 2008. Hoo-rah!

Yesterday afternoon, I finally won my epic battle with my evil left rear wisdom tooth. It was a Pyrrhic victory at best. It turns out the teeth will ultimately win the war.

When I got into the room to get numbed up, this was the image that was hanging in front of me:




Salvador Dali's "St. George and the Dragon." That's right - an oral surgeon has a print of a giant spear being stuck into a dragon's mouth. Not exactly the most soothing of images when you're about to be gouged with metal tools.

After he shot me up with novocaine (which fired through my lower jaw like an electric shock), the surgeon popped my offending tooth out like a carrot during harvest season. No pain, no fuss. Easy peasy, PLUS a free prescription for Vicodin. I win, right?

Wrong! When I got home and feeling had come back in my tongue, I discovered that part of the molar next to the wisdom tooth had broken off. As it turns out, I have severe tooth decay throughout my mouth and am likely going to lose several more teeth unless I spent several immediate painful hours in the dental chair getting gouged and prodded some more.

What the fuck? I brush and floss and the whole deal. Always have. They say that a lot of it is probably just genetic. I was born with the potential for weak, shitty teeth and damn it if I didn't meet and downright exceed that potential. Curse this Irish chromosome stew. Sure, I tan well and never get depressed and have a huge shilelagh, but come on! Would copulating with a few white-chompered Norwegians have killed you, Great Great Great Great Grandma O'Boogie? Why were you such a whore for the pasty English guys?

Ach begorrah. Let's move on - tomorrow for the 700th post, I will announce the 2007 Joe Welsh Memorial (this isn't a joke - I think he might actually be dead) Least Shitty Post Award. Last chance to get in your suggestions. And how about a few acceptance speeches from yesterday's awards? Hogg? Anonymous? Big Phil?

While we wait for the announcement of the 2007 Joe Welsh Memorial Least Shitty Post Award, here are some awards given out in an earlier ceremony which no one attended because there was no "open bar" money left in the Brendocademy's budget (Once again, this may be confusing for all you MySpace readers, but there's a world of laughter over at the Scampernet):

Guest Poster of the Year: Hogg (runner up: Gore Vidal)

Best Thing to Yell Onstage During the Debut of a Band: Brendan Boogie (to Nate) - "Don't make me slap you upside the head with my dick!"

Funniest Thing to Order on a Pizza: Panda meat

2007 Most Anoying Grammer/Speeling Corektor: Nate Rogers (12th year running)

Favorite Place to Secretly Masturbate: The shower (Runner up: the audio/visual room of Circuit City)

Vinny Shit on the Face's Prejudice of the Year: Fat people/poor people (tie)

Least Anonymous "Anonymous" Poster: Tony (Runner up: Nate's scumbag brother Eric)

Mike Mirabella Quote of the Year: "I'm going to use the money from this gig to buy a sweater for when it gets cold out."

Thing I Least Cared About That I Was Supposed to Care About in 2007: Illegal immigrants (Runner up: TV shows where I'm supposed to vote for someone who sings/dances/models/makes an outfit best)

The David Lee Roth Award for Band-Quitting/High Kicks in Tight Pants: Keith Michel

and the big one...

Best Comment of the Year: "I love my dead gay Scion!" by Anonymous

Congratulations to all of our winners. The Least Shitty Post of the Year will be awarded on Friday which is coincidentally the 700th post. I love milestones! And the Flintstones! Underrated show.

As we approach the end of the year, it means only one thing: it's awards season! Personally, I can't wait to have my taste in music, movies, and television validated by a panel of experts who obviously know way more about "the business" than I do. At its core, isn't all artistic achievement really about winning contests and making speeches?

Not one to be left in the cold, I present to you the 2007 Joe Welsh Memorial Least Shitty Journal Post Award. This is an award that I am giving myself for my achievements in superior blogging. I have ignored my talents far too long. It's time for me to recognize the awesomeness that is me.

Here are the top blog entries from each month of 2007 (for those of you reading this on MySpace, check out the archives for the past 700 posts in the Brendan's Journal section of the Scampernet):

January 5, 2007: Pfrendo's Pfositively Pfreposterous Phootball PflayoPf Pfredictions

February 27, 2007: Brendo and the Great MTV Conspiracy

March 20, 2007: Brendo's Stages of Grief

April 17, 2007: Brendo Hearts Bode

May 3, 2007: Brendo Hearts Bruce Campbell

June 8, 2007: Brendo Gets Philosophical About Baseball Because He's An Idiot Manchild

July 11, 2007: Brendo Writes About Baseball Again, But This Time is Just Being a Dick About It

August 7, 2007: Brendo in Mourning

September 7, 2007: Brendo Gives You a Thumbs Down

October 5, 2007: Brendo Appreciates Amateur Pornography

November 16, 2007: Brendo Wants to Take You to Bermuda, Bahama - Come On Pretty Mama

December 14, 2007: Brendo vs. The Tooth

I'll give you good folks a little time to peruse the nominees before I announce the winner at the end of this week. As always, the decisions of the Brendocademy are final and arbitrary.

Any other ideas for year-end awards?

Recommendation of the week: The Futurama movie Bender's Big Score. It's only available on DVD, just in time for an X-Mas gift for that special Kwanzaa Bot. A special feature of the DVD: a full-length episode of your favorite sitcom - Everybody Loves Hypnotoad. Excellent stuff.

In other news, I had a killer idea this weekend. You know those chocolate crunchies that are between the vanilla and chocolate layers of an ice cream cake? We can all agree as a society that those are officially the most delicious things ever and certifiably the best part of an ice cream cake, right?

Okay, okay. Now I know I'm outside the box here but bear with me. A cake made ENTIRELY of chocoloate crunchies! BAM! Didn't I blow your mind this time? Huh? Didn't I?

Okay, the Mitchell report came out yesterday afternoon and it was just a fanfuckingtastic day all around for your boy Brendo. If you know anything about me, you know there are three things I like: a cold Guinness, a warm cup of Bewley's tea, and a 24-hour news cycle of morally indignant outrage from cable TV and sports radio idiots. Mmmm... warms the cockles of my heart.

Look at all that the Mitchell report gave us:

- The false list. If you weren't trawling the internet like I was, you may have missed this preliminary "leaked" list which included, among others, perennial Red Sox favorite Jason Varitek. It turned out to be false, but resulted in no less that FIVE women calling/emailing me about how betrayed they felt. I've never seen such strong personal feelings projected on to complete stranger before. Someone needs to study this "Varitek is my secret ideal boyfriend/father figure" phenomenon.

- The jokes. Here were some of my favorites when the original fake list came out.

Tim McIntire: "Wouldn't it be funny if George Mitchell (ed: who sits on the board of directors of the Red Sox) just submitted a list of every player on the Yankees roster from 2000-2007. When people questioned him, he'd just throw up his hands and say 'What? What?'"

Keith Michel: "There's one name notably missing from that list. Don Orsillo."

Me: "Instead of Clay Hensley, I wish it were Clay Henry from the Subway commercials. He's a fireman and a Jared fan... and an illegal steroid user that should be banned from the Hall of Fame."

- The opportunity for me to espouse outrageous incendiary theories. How about this: if you're a player who didn't take steroids during the consequence-free steroid era, you a lazy do-nothing who doesn't care about winning for his teammates or his fans. I don't want you on my team.

Not only are you a bad teammate and player, but obviously you don't care about your wife and kids enough to go that extra mile to earn yourself a better contract. If you really think about it, what kind of an amoral scumbag wouldn't take steroids?

- The disappointments. Boy oh boy oh BOY, did I want Curt Schilling to be on that list. After all those years of holier-than-thou preaching at people and he turned out to be a cheater? Man, do I love exposed hypocrisy! But no - he has to be a man of word. Booo-ring.

- The idiots. This is taken verbatim from the comments of King Kaufman's column on Thursday on Salon. At this stage, we were still working from the "fake" list which included some true ones (Roger Clemens and Andy Pettite) and some false ones (Johnny Damon and Jason Varitek):

As a Yankees fan, let's first admit that while we enjoyed the wins he brought, we never liked roger clemens. he always was and always will be a Red Sox. a dirty f@#$ing cheating son of a bitch red sox.
secondly, f@#$ that hypocritical faux-christian cheating mother f@#$er andy pettite. really, just f@#$ him. i hated that he left because the yankees didn't kiss his ass enough and I have been ambivalent about his return.

Finally Giambi's just a sad sack piece of dumb shit.

as long as those are the only three yankees named (or at least only three big names named -- they can have all the jason grimsleys they want), I think I'm okay.

Key talking point will be and should be: George Mitchell is a member of the board of the Red Sox and therefore is completely unreliable. where's manny? where's ortiz? youklis? kapler? some of those guys have got to be dirty, but we won't hear it. no, but he'll go out of his way to sully the reputations of yankees based on the flimsiest of evidence and hearsay. of course they'll throw Damon under the bus, he's a Yankee now.

Fuck the NBA - I love THIS game.

Tooth update: my screaming cavity has luckily not gotten any worse, but sadly not gotten any better. But I've got enough Advil and gin to make it until Wednesday, when a nice man with a nice white coat and nice set of pliers will replace the tooth with a gaping bloody gum hole.

Hmmm... Gaping Bloody Gum Hole - that's a good name for Nate's new band. Put it on the short list, fellas.

In other news, I don't want anyone to think that the passing of Ike Turner is going to make me stop doing my "Ike Turner apologizing for his domestic violence" routine. Just to be clear - that shit is STILL funny. Turner's death will not take this away from me, damn it.

I'm also going to go on record and predict the next black 70's soul singer to die will be... Isaac Hayes. Don't mess with me on this. I'm eerily good at calling celebrity deaths. Remember the great Nell Carter prediction of ought three? She earned me 46 points in my celebrity death pool that year. I'm telling you, you don't know what kind of a man you truly are until you find yourself dancing around your office, yelling to your co-workers "Yes! Nell Carter is dead! Whooo!"

What - too soon?

Wow. I couldn't have asked for a better debut show for the Brendan Boogie Band. It turned out to be almost exactly the sloppy drunken blast I envisioned bringing to the stage when I first conceived this little musical brouhaha. We had some laughs, test drove the new tunes, I yelled at Nate, openly hit on The Rationales' guitarist's wife from the stage - overall, a good time was had by me.

I can't express my gratitude enough to the bunch of you who braved the gross weather and rabid Smackdown fans at the Garden to come down to the Bulfinch Yacht Club on a yucky Tuesday night. It really warms my normally bleak black heart that you lovelies made the trek down to see us.

For that shameful minority of you who missed it, there will be another show on January 16 which I'll be sure to shamelessly pimp in the weeks to come. The Brendan Boogie Band is up and rolling, bitches! Scamper who?

The scene: It's 4:23AM. Brendan is in bed sleeping, as is his custom. Suddenly, he is awoken by the sound of screaming. It's coming from inside his mouth.

Tooth: WAKE UUUUUUUUUUUUP!
Brendan: Wha...? What's happening?
Tooth: Wake the fuck up, bitch!
Brendan: But why? It's four in the morning.
Tooth: Yeah, I figured now would be the best time to discuss a few things.
Brendan: Like what?
Tooth: Good question. Well mostly, I just want to take this opportunity to tell you I hate you and you suck. Oh, and also I'm going to make sure you never sleep through the night again.
Brendan: Come on. Can't you let me get back to sleep? We can talk about these issues in the morning?
Tooth: Actually, you should have handled "these issues" last year when the dentist told you to get me pulled. But you didn't, did you?
Brendan: I've been busy.
Tooth: And I've been rotting to the nerve. Hope you've enjoyed the football season, though. That Randy Moss is something, huh? Oh, by the way, DON'T GO TO SLEEP! LA LA LA LA LA!
Brendan: Come on, man. I've got my debut show with my new band at the Bulfinch Yacht Club tomorrow night. Cut me some slack.
Tooth: You're playing with the Rationales, right?
Brendan: Yeah.
Tooth: I hear they're very good. Left upper incisor really loves their stuff.
Ibuprofen: Sorry I'm late.
Brendan: What the fuck took you so long? I called for you like 20 minutes ago.
Ibuprofen: I was listening to the roughs of the new Rationales record. I love their rootsy brand of rock and roll.
Brendan: Yeah yeah, they're terrific. About this tooth...
Ibuprofen: If I come to the show tonight, will there be parking or should I take the T?
Brendan: I'm not sure of the parking situation. There's no game at the Garden, but there is a WWE Smackdown taping.
Ibuprofen: Oh, I should probably go to that. Those guys are always asking for me. Although not as much as my big brothers Vicodin and Percocet.
Tooth: Those are your brothers? I hate those guys!
Ibuprofen: Thank you very much. They do good work.
Brendan: Could we please let me get some sleep? I'm dying here.
Ibuprofen: Sure, no problem. (Faggot.)
Tooth: You can't kill me. You can only quiet me for the moment. I'll be back tomorrow night when you try to hit those high notes.
Ibuprofen: Don't worry - I'll be there.
Lots of booze: Me too, bitches! WHOOOOO!
Brendan: Yaay!
Tooth: I'll get you for this Midleeeeeeeeeeeer....

"You know what banana pants is? It's when there's a banana in the pants." - Winston Churchill

Check out the results of Scamper's farewell photo shoot over on the Scamper main page. Try not to let the stark foreboding imagery that perfectly captures the all-too-human concepts of love and loss upset you.

Despite the official Scamper mourning period, I'm psyched about the Brendan Boogie Band debut show tomorrow night at the Bulfinch Yacht Club. Some familiar faces, all new (barely rehearsed) songs, a potential clusterfuck of Homeric proportions - it all adds up for a more-rockin'-than-usual Tuesday night. Come by and set a spell.

My grassroots campaign to install "Play Kokomo!" as America's new "Funny thing to yell at shows" took another tiny step toward success this week. I did a little bit of field testing and apparently, it works at bluegrass shows as well.

Last night, I was lucky enough to catch songstress/temptress Jenee Halstead and the Saskatchewan Rough Riders (Note: not the real band name. They haven't come up with one yet, so until they pull the trigger, I'm going with the Saskatchewan Rough Riders) at the Plough and Stars in Cambridge. During a lull in the show, I slapped down the ol' "Play Kokomo!" card. It, of course, killed. It's just a solid piece of work.

For the rest of the show, I did a wee bit of heckling, as is my custom. My buddy Andy plays guitar with Jenee, so of course I booed the crap out of him and yelled "You suck!" a few times. You know - to show the love. Apparently, most of these folkies aren't accustomed to such open displays of comic hostility. Tension was in the air.

When the verbal back-and-forth reached its climax, I got to utter one of the favorite sentences to ever come out of my mouth: "Oh no - a bluegrass band is coming to beat me up. Oooooo!"

That didn't exactly garner me any new friends in the normally genteel Plough and Stars patronage. I would have been worried for my safety if every guy in there hadn't been petite enough to fit their size zero women's jeans into their silk-lined mandolin cases. Still, one round of "May the Circle Be Unbroken" and all was forgiven. I love rootsy Americana!

By the way, if anyone tries to pull this "give him a taste of his own medicine" and yells "Play Kokomo!" at me during the debut of the Brendan Boogie Band at Bulfinch Yacht Club on Tuesday, there will be swift and furious vengeance. In the profound words of Bret Michaels, "You won't make me a notch on your bedpost. I'm the notcher!"

Since the debut of the Brendan Boogie Band gits all up in your stuff this Tuesday at the Bulfinch Yacht Club, I thought I'd answer a few of the Frequently Asked Questions I've been getting:

Q: What is your band going to sound like?

A: Good question.

Q: Thank you.

A: You're welcome. We're still sort of discovering the sound as we go, but I'd probably describe the BBB as having all the parts you liked about Scamper without the stuff you hated, namely Keith.

Q: Speaking of Scamper, why do you say you're 'going solo' when really it's just Scamper minus one?

A: Okay, now you're just getting cocky. In Scamper, Nate and Mike were my peers in both the musical and decision-making processes. We were a four-headed symbiotic beast spinning a web of delicious power pop out of our sugary web-making glands (located in the butt region).

In the BBB, Nate's and Mike's roles in the overall direction of the band fall somewhere between "per diem cabin boy" and "brainslug-controlled slave." I make sure to remind them of this at every opportunity, sometimes with a cattle prod. Believe me - they're much happier now that they've had that pesky "independent spirit" beaten out of them.

Q: When are you going to record some songs and put them up on MySpace?

A: Recording requires time and money, so probably not for a while. If anyone's got any hookups, please feel free to let me know.

Q: I know it's an election year, but am I supposed to care about illegal immigration? Because I'm trying to give a flying dook, but I just can't seem to muster it up.

A: Probably the biggest non-issue since flag burning. "Oh my God! There are people working in this country without the proper paperwork! Did you hear me? They haven't filled out the necessary forms! Aaagh! Someone build a wall made out of Uzis!"

Q: Will you be mad at me if I miss your debut show on Tuesday?

A: (The silent treatment begins.)

With the holiday season upon us, some of you are looking for a place to spend that dough earmarked "Last Minute Charity/2006 Tax Deduction/Make Me Feel Like a Decent Person for Once in My Debaucherous Life."

Might I recommend Beards for Babies. If you haven't checked it out, my good friend/gaseous weiner Joe is raising money for children's charities by taking advantage of his natural talent for facial hair growing. Every little bit helps, so sponsor this wonderful man and his woefully unattractive beard.

And be grateful that he didn't go with his first idea for a charitable endeavor: Pubes for Puppies.

I know it's become a cliche, but my mancrush on Tom Brady has officially reached obscene levels. Did you see that fourth quarter? Absolutely fucking dreamy. I'm not afraid to admit it - I'd allow that man to do filthy filthy things with my hindquarters.

Speaking of filthy, I spent last evening laying down some nasty-ass background vocals for the the upcoming Rationales record. Folks, this shit is going to be gooooood. If Dave and the boys could engineer a two-minute drill half as good as Tom Terrific, I might have a new mancrush a-brewin'.

Like the strangely homoerotic turn this journal has taken? Come to the Bullfinch Yacht Club on Tuesday December 11 to witness up close and personal the rock and roll man-on-man love fest.

Ah, the crisp snowy talon of winter. Did you know that when some bears hibernate their bodies create this sort of natural butt plug to prevent them from shitting themselves while they sleep? True story.

Speaking of butt plugs, Scamper had what is likely to be our final photo shoot this weekend. As soon as I have some proofs, I'll share them with you. It was a bittersweet day. Poses were struck, tears were shed. It was (in the words of our lovely photographer) "wicked funny." Apparently, even our misery manages to amuse.

But as one era fizzles to an end, another rises from the ashes. After the photo shoot, we unceremoniously kicked Keith Daddy to the curb and engaged in the unholiest of unions: the first Brendan Boogie Band rehearsal with full instrumentation.

Things were surprisingly non-disastrous. It's interesting how the dynamics have changed with my band even though it's essentially the same personnel as Scamper. For instance, there is one particularly peppy new song which Mike feels should be a tad slower so that his arms don't fall off midway through the second verse. Now, in the Scamper days, musical disagreement would prompt a lengthy discussion during which a compromise would be wrought.

Things work slightly differently in the Brendan Boogie Band. The discussion goes a little something like this:

Mike: That's way too fast.
Brendan: Yup. It's a challenge. Let's do it again. ONE TWO THREE FOUR!

It's good to be the king. I'll never get my comeuppance! Never!

Some fantastic news that came out of said rehearsal: Rationales front man Dave Mirabella will be joining us for our set on December 11 at the Bullfinch Yacht Club. And Mo Fo can play. I'm psyched. You don't want to miss this show.