One Night at McCool's debuted on Comedy Central last night. In case you missed it, it's scheduled to air on the network several more times this week.

The movie's horrible, but I'd recommend those with less discerning tastes see it once. With any luck, that'll be enough for you. I tried to go back and watch a second time, but that time I realized what those with more discerning tastes were talking about.

Reading Newtcase the other day, I clicked a link to visit the site of Casey's friend Molly. After scrolling through her blog some, I clicked inside to read an essay of Molly's, "My Mother's Stroke."

At the top of the page, there was a photo that I presumed to be of Molly and her mother, now recovered from her stroke.

"My," I thought to myself, "Molly is one ugly woman."

But as I read on, I realized I had read the essay already. The tale wasn't one of a mother's near-death experience bringing a family closer together. Not at all.

Read the essay here. Julian Casablancas, I apologize.

(Molly, you too, whoever you are and whatever you look like.)

In effort to take the blog more "mid-calorie," the archives are now monthly instead of weekly. If you've linked in the past, your links won't die; the old weekly archives are staying on the server.

Related, the list of links to friends' blogs welcomes a new member, Beverly Cheng (a fabulous Northwestern '02 graduate), who a while back commented here and included her link, which I completely missed. She's been writing it for a year and a half! I've clearly got to get my ear closer to the ground. Among recent posts, her "Are you ever horny?" entry (1/12/04) is gold. It's like CSN&Y getting punk'd.

Related, Beverly is soon to marry another fabulous Northwestern '02 grad, Johnny O'Neal. And, as I draw my ear closer and closer to the ground, I find on Bev's site that Johnny's got a blog too. Google tells me his theme song (hinted at here) isn't anywhere on the Internet. As a fan of the theme song, I eagerly await its appearance in his blog.

Does anyone else out there (that I know) have blogs I don't know about? Maybe my eye missed your link too? Let me know. Together, we'll rectify.

Related, up Canada way, the already linked Deanna has herself a new address and terrifically minimalist new design. I've only met her briefly, but she's fabulous as well. As someone who still harbors dreams of being a puppeteer, a puppet with a tie makes my day.

Related, thanks to everyone who's commented so far this year: Ellen, Shalini, Casey, Jess, Jamie, Tom, Emily, Lindsay, Cleo, Amit, Nate, Elisa, Stevie, and Bev. I hope to give that part of the site some TLC in the next year. And I'll get the Beatles rock mix together one of these days.

We all make mistakes. You make mistakes. I make mistakes.

For instance, back in the fall, I wrote in my review of Howie Day's first single, "I'm not in need of an angry Howie Day, just one capable of anger."

Perhaps that was a mistake.

Last week, according to police, Howard finally revealed his angry side. And it wasn't appealing at all, allegedly. Whatever it was, it was a mistake.

Opening for the Barenaked Ladies in Madison, Wis., the almost famous Howard and band allegedly asked a few ladies back to their tour bus, ostensibly for the purpose of getting them barenaked. When one young lady refused Howard's advances, according to police, Howard then blocked her in a bathroom.

As another woman tried to call the police, Howard allegedly broke her cell phone. When the first got out of the bathroom, according to the criminal complaint, Howard doused the woman with a can of the resurgent Pabst Blue Ribbon.

Steven Elbow of the Capitol Times got all the details of Howard's arrest, bail and misdemeanor counts.

But there was more.

Matthew Dolbey of the U-W Badger Herald got all the denials from Howard's manager and attorney, along with bonus content from Ted Ballweg, "director of sales and marketing at the Alliant Energy Center."

Ballweg was on message: "From a building standpoint, nothing went wrong."

Not to be left out, seller "chaka16" got the mug shot T-shirt offer on eBay. The fans at HowieFan.com got the link posted.

Exemplified. I've never clicked on any of Salon's Day Pass sponsors, but you've got to give Powell's Books credit for a good and honest effort. Were I an OMD surfer or shopper, I might click or buy.

What did I hear?

No doubt about it: The Bertha Butt Boogie by the Jimmy Castor Bunch.

When did I hear it?

Two weeks ago. Forgot to post until now.

Where did I hear it?

Backgrounding a clip in the Fabulous Life of Princes William and Harry on VH1.

Why was I watching it?

I was just flipping channels, I promise.

How … ?

Heard the song once on the radio in 10th grade. One listen proved funkily affective. Finally chased down a copy of the song four years later.

A Googling yesterday found Jimmy Castor was still performing. Who knew? A few people must have; this guy spared no font size in reviewing a 2002 show.

Castor even talked to the Village Voice the same year and discussed Springsteen. Hard to tell what he thought of the Boss, but you had to love the way he put it: "All of a sudden America needs Bruce Springsteen. He hasn't been out; now they need him? OK. Bruce Springsteen, 'the hard-working man's blue-collar,' please!"

Who am I to use this narrative technique?

This technique stinks. But even today, whenever I hear the word "troglodyte," I think of the Jimmy Castor Bunch and the Bertha Butt Boogie. Seriously.

Previews of Raisin in the Sun starring Sean ("Four stages of envy") Combs begin Tuesday on Broadway. If you've already got a case of thespian-induced stageright, read today's Post and Wil Haygood's article looking back at the play's creation and groundbreaking first run.

But every time Columbia re-releases a group of his albums in CD/SACD or puts out a new addition to the Bootleg series, as they're doing now, I consider buying.

So, offer me advice. If I buy Bob, what Bob should I buy?

Say about Larry King what you will, mistaking Michael Isikoff for Michael Weiskopf and the like. But the dividends of what King can simply posit and then receive by volume in return always amaze me.

Jan Berry of Jan and Dean died Friday in Los Angeles, with a seizure finally claiming what Berry had barely held onto in a 1966 car wreck. The High Fidelity script covered the crash in the Laura's Dad tribute list:

BARRY: "Leader of the Pack." The guy fucking cracks up on a cycle and dies right? "Dead Man's Curve," Jan and Dean…

DICK: Did you know that after that song was recorded, Jan himself crashed his –

ROB: Fuck off, Barry.

Althought that crash was only two years later, the location was just a few blocks from the curve. But what the movie made me assume at the time, wrongly, was that Jan Berry had died. It wasn't until a while later that I learned he had lived, and it wasn't until yesterday that I learned he was still making music.

Nothing he wrote or sang afterward reached the surf rock heights of Dead Man's Curve, Little Old Lady (From Pasadena) or the woody ("you know it's not very cherry, it's an oldie but goodie") that got two girls for every narrator in Surf City.

But when Larry King asked him last year how he wanted to be remembered, Berry found a well of an answer — most of which stretched from the accident to the present. From his response, linked at the top of his Web site today:

The mysteries of cerebral circuitry are still confounding the best scientists and doctors. But my circumstances offer supporting evidence that the nervous system processes verbal symbols and musical symbols (and abilities) in different ways. I'm slow, but I can still read, write, and arrange music. Words are a different matter altogether. I can't tell you about it easily, but I can do music, if you give me the time.

Insert "Will I ever be able to" piano playing joke here. Sorry for the overnight disappearance; my host's server fell down (possibly tripped).

But in other news, at Tom noted earlier this month, the blog is now two years old. Thank you for visiting!