Fishy reasoning

Yeah, that's a pun in the title. Sometimes I can't help myself.

Stanley Fish has a column in today's NY Times Select section (which I only have access to because they decided to make it available to anyone with an .edu email address) which strikes me as, well, aggravating. It's about the "truth claims" of religion and it's related to the teaching of the Bible in schools, a subject I've addressed in the past.

Fish says "The truth claims of a religion — at least of religions like Christianity, Judaism and Islam — are not incidental to its identity; they are its identity."

Fair enough. Problem is that we're not talking about religion here. We're talking about teaching the Bible, and much as many religious types like to conflate the two, they are not synonymous. Religion, even ostensibly Bible-based religion, is a wide net which gathers in an enormous number of disparate and often hostile groups. Throw a question about doctrine into a room full of Christians and you're liable to not get the same answer twice, and these are people who claim to use the Bible as a basis for their belief system.

Set aside for a moment the problem of translation and the many, many internal contradictions in early manuscripts, (a topic discussed nicely by Bart Ehrman) which give any reasonable person pause when thinking about the inerrancy of scripture. There's a reason there are thousands of Christian churches--the Bible as a basis for doctrine is a mess, and a lot of what gets into churches as doctrine has no Biblical foundation. The Trinity, the immortal soul, hellfire--they're extensions and stretches of "reasoning" on passages often taken out of context. The only way to teach the Bible in a classroom without having it turn into an argument over dogma is to leave the truth claims out of any discussion.

Fish's problem in this piece is that he fails to acknowledge the diversity in belief among Christians, and what's worse, he puts together this particularly bad analogy:

The difference between the truth claims of religion and the truth claims of other academic topics lies in the penalty for getting it wrong. A student or a teacher who comes up with the wrong answer to a crucial question in sociology or chemistry might get a bad grade or, at the worst, fail to be promoted. Those are real risks, but they are nothing to the risk of being mistaken about the identity of the one true God and the appropriate ways to worship him (or her). Get that wrong, and you don’t lose your grade or your job, you lose your salvation and get condemned to an eternity in hell.
Chemistry and sociology classes don't deal in "truth claims." They deal with facts and theories and hypotheses and observations. They leave matters of truth to the philosophers. Fish ought to know this, as he's a professor of law. Furthermore, his analogy presupposes not only a God, but a Christian one at that, and a religion in which hell is indeed a place of torment. Pardon me for being so blunt here, but I'm a lot more concerned about whether my future pharmacist understands the chemistry of drug interactions than I am whether I picked the right side in the Great God Contest.

He concludes the piece with this question:
Once it’s Judeo-Christian, it will soon be Judeo-Islamic-Christian, then Judeo-Islamic-Native American-Christian and then. ... Teaching the Bible in that spirit may succeed in avoiding the dangers of proselytizing and indoctrination. But if you’re going to cut the heart out of something, why teach it at all?
The answer is simple--the Bible as a cultural relic and as a work of literature is a fantastic resource, a series of snapshots of emerging cultures and religions, and in many cases, a great lesson in how not to tell stories (Jesus disappearing from age 12 to age 30 is a good example). And it's the foundation for most western literature--you need at least a rudimentary knowledge of the Bible to be able to understand the references. So that's why you teach it, not because of any truth claims it may or may not make, but because it helps us understand where we've come from in a social sense.

On a side note, I would like to applaud the student who stood up for his religious rights as a Pastafarian. I always love it when students know enough about the system to make an argument based on their rights as citizens.

Thank God for the Roomba and the Random Ten


I love this guy. I was hesitant at first, but Amy was all about owning a robot and since neither of us like to sweep and we have two cats who are more hair than anything else, I went along (like I had a choice--she has the credit cards). And now I'm convinced that it's one of the greatest inventions of the late 20th century. I'll be setting it off in about five minutes and I'll be preparing for the dinner guests we're having in about 3 hours.

And if you're into other automatic cleaning devices, I heartily recommend the shower thing by the scrubbing bubbles people. It's a quality of life improver, that's for damn sure.

Here's the random ten--put your iPod or computer's music player on random and post the next ten songs that pop up. No cheating to hide your secret ABBA love. Here we go.

1. Let Me Clear My Throat--DJ Kool with Doug E Fresh & Biz Markie
2. Have You Ever Seen the Rain--Creedence Clearwater Revival
3. Carolina In My Mind--James Taylor
4. Danville Girl--Spider John Koerner
5. Enid--Barenaked Ladies
6. Bales of Cocaine--Reverend Horton Heat
7. What Has Happened?--Big Smith
8. Human Fly--Nouvelle Vague
9. From Four Till Late--Robert Johnson
10. Get Back--The Beatles


Here's a video for number one there, and no, that's not me in the tuxedo shorts, though I would certainly wear them given the opportunity.

Dennis, this is why you're not funny anymore

A long time ago, I thought Dennis Miller was hysterical--I very nearly almost bought one of his books when I was an extraordinarily broke undergrad. But a few years back, even before he went batshit insane after 9/11/2001, he lost it, and I know why.

He got mean.

Now, Dennis Miller was always mean, but at least in the past he targeted people in power and he hammered them for the stupid things they did. But as Tuesday night's Daily Show appearance illustrates, he's forgotten that.



I don't actually recommend that you watch the whole thing--I didn't. I got up to take a shower after he followed up his "the victim in the Duke lacrosse case was the biggest whore ever" joke with his "Pelosi blinks a lot" joke. Nancy Pelosi blinks a lot? That's all you've got, Denny? That's like making fat jokes about Dennis Hastert. In the old days, he'd have made some snarky comment about the pork in the appropriations bill and snuck in a reference to Smithfield, Stonehenge and the battle of Agincourt, but he wouldn't have gone after something as petty as "she blinks a lot."

Political humor is funny when it hits the powerful for doing something boneheaded. It's the quick jab that snaps the head of a Congressman back and rocks him. It's Colbert walking into the lion's den two years ago and ripping Bush a new asshole while he couldn't do anything but sit there with a pasted on grin and take it. Stewart had poked fun at some of the pork loaded into the appropriations bill earlier in the show, and done it well. But he never got personal--and that's why Stewart is the hottest (maybe second, to Colbert) guy in news commentary and Dennis Miller is a has-been.

Time for the next round

For those unfamiliar with what is now the standard way of getting a first (and at times, second and beyond) book of poetry published, let me spell it out for you with as little frustration and venom as I can muster.

It's a contest. You put a manuscript together, print it, sweat over the poem order, stick it in a large manila envelope with a check ranging from $10 (AWP contest if you're a member) to $25 (most of them, even the small ones), which adds up quickly if you're a grad student/junior faculty/barista type. You then spend countless weeks indulging in superstitious behavior--knocking wood, crossing fingers, sacrificing love chickens--all in hopes that it'll get past the first layer of readers and maybe the judge will get a sniff at it. And in the meantime, you're still stressing over it because there's another round to enter even before you've heard the results on the last round, and you can't sit a round out because who knows that might be the one? and there's no guarantee that you'll even be a finalist.

Rinse. Repeat.

So tonight, thanks to an email to Amy from a dear friend of ours, I was reminded that April is almost upon us and with it, the spring series of contests. And that means a minimum of a hundred to hundred-fifty bucks out of pocket.

Part of the frustration comes from what you would expect from a person trying to pay the bills as an academic--publish or perish, or in the world of Creative Writing, publish just to have a shot at perishing somewhere down the road.

But the real angst comes from just wanting this period of my writing to come to an end. I've made a turn in my subject matter, but in the meantime, I've got all these poems I've spent the last 5+ years writing and agonizing over, and I want them to be out there and exorcised from my computer. Or something.

And it only takes two people to like my book to make this happen for me--a first reader and a judge. In the same contest. Come on y'all. Hook a brother up.

Coolest thing ever and the Random Ten

Okay, so I might be exaggerating a bit, but this video of a middle-aged man moving huge ass rocks among other things is amazing. He spun a barn, for crying out loud. Go watch it.

Here's the Random Ten--put the iTunes on party shuffle and post the next ten songs in order. Prepare to be mocked.

1. Absolutely Zero--Jason Mraz
2. Helicopter--Bloc Party
3. When It Rains It Pours-Snooks Eaglin
4. Ground On Down--Ben Harper & The Innocent Criminals
5. Quarry Anthem--Big Smith
6. Cannabis--Ska-P
7. Lawyers, Guns & Money--Warren Zevon
8. You Turn the Screws--Cake
9. Blue Veins--The Raconteurs
10. Jumpin' At the Woodside--Count Basie

I'm currently 17th in the NCAA pool over at LG&M, even though I never follow college basketball. If I win the damn thing, I may stop watching sports completely and then start picking games purely on instinct.

Shocking the students

One of the things I love about teaching political poetry is shocking my students. So often in my classes, my students haven't been hit with anything really controversial--they're thrown off kilter by Larkin's "This Be the Verse" simply because he drops two f-bombs in 12 lines. So just imagine what happened when we started talking about June Jordan's "Poem about My Rights" in class and they read these lines:

who in the hell set things up
like this
and in France they say if the guy penetrates
but does not ejaculate then he did not rape me
and if after stabbing him if after screams if
after begging the bastard and if even after smashing
a hammer to his head even after that if he
and his buddies fuck me after that
then I consented and there was
no rape because finally you understand finally
they fucked me over because I was wrong I was
wrong again to be me being me where I was / wrong
to be who I am

If you're unfamiliar with the poem, I recommend it wholeheartedly. It's a long, beautiful, breathless, angry exclamation, a statement of defiance, a fist-pounding fuck you to the world as it stands, with the ending claim that "my resistance / my simple and daily and nightly self-determination / may very well cost you your life"

Their reaction at first was one of stunned silence. It's a longish poem by the class's standards--about 114 lines--and we rarely go for much over 30 lines, though I'm changing that in future classes. But as we dug in together, as we talked about everything from rape shield law to the "she was asking for it" defense to the history of colonial Africa to the politics of passing and the continuing advantage of white males in society to Jordan's final defiant claim, they became simultaneously animated and subdued--animated as they started to realize the claims poetry could make on the world about it, and subdued by how fucked up the world has been and how fucked up it still is. It's the kind of thing I love most about teaching.

I absolutely agree



Via Lawyers, Guns and Money, I give you artist John Sims. He sees the Confederate flag as "visual terrorism," and while I may consider that a slight exaggeration, it's not much of one. The use of the word terrorism has been thrown around so casually over the last five-plus years that it's started to lose some of its force. That said, the above flag has certainly been used to terrorize a significant portion of the population over the last hundred-plus years, so it's not much of an exaggeration.

And I think the treatment is not only appropriate, it's symbolic of where the south needs to go in the future. There was nothing gallant about the "lost cause" or the "Marble Man," and if we southerners were a thousandth as moral as many claim to be in our gay-hating, young-earth-creationist churches, we'd hang our heads in shame whenever that flag popped up anywhere. We certainly wouldn't be sporting it on pickup trucks and bandanas.

Pride in any flag is questionable, since most nations have committed vast numbers of atrocities over time, but that flag doesn't have a single decent memory attached to it. It stands for slavery, for bigotry, for treason and hatred and the symbolism here is apt. The penalty for treason is death, and it's about time we southerners carried it out on the idea that our history is glorious. It's not.

Early stages of middle age paranoia and the Random Ten

I've become paranoid about my left ankle. I don't trust it anymore--rolling it six times in the last 2+ years will do that to you. I'll be looking up an orthopedist for some PT very soon, but in the meantime, I've started more or less gripping handrails while on stairs, especially when descending. On a bad day, it's clasp-release-clasp; on better days, it's more a gliding across the top, close enough to brace my body with my forearm and ready to grasp should my ankle betray me. And if I have coffee in my hand, I don't even try it anymore. It's the elevator, which is shameful from my point of view.

Here's the random ten--the iTunes is on party shuffle, and here are the next ten songs. No skipping the Flock of Seagulls/Van Hagar mashup you downloaded while drunk and thought was the most brilliant thing you'd ever heard. Here we go.

1. Concrete Schoolyard--Jurassic 5
2. Conservative Christian, Right-Wing Republican, Straight, White, American Male--Todd Snider
3. I Can Do Anything--De La Soul
4. Learning to Fly--Pink Floyd
5. Traveling Riverside Blues--Robert Johnson
6. Penelope--Pinback
7. It's War--The Cardigans
8. Where You Gonna Run--Talib Kweli Featuring Jean Grae
9. Sometimes--Alejandro Escovedo
10. Buckets of Rain--Neko Case
That's a mixture all right--old school hip-hop, political rap, classic blues, classic rock, alt-country, and pop. What's on your lists--anyone willing to share this week? Or what parts of your body do you no longer trust--no adult-diaper wearing stories, please.

Dental Hygiene in Middle Age

Left ankle soft as the wisdom teeth
I should have had out ten years earlier
rolls, betrays me outside the sliding door
of the dental school. Student doctor seats
me, sends her first year to oral surgery
for ice packs, jokes it’s good I’ll be reclined
for the next three hours. The lamp blinds,
jaw is numb and fat, and I want to sleep
but the ankle keeps in time with the worm
in my ear, Please. Don’t stand so close to me
even with the hole in the line, the gasp
of breath. Taste of amalgam, smell of burnt
drill, tooth, sweat beads from the lamp-heat,
fingernails in armrest. I’m done. Unclasp.

War Poetry

Is Yeats's "Easter, 1916" a pro-war poem? That's a bit too simple of a question, I suppose, but I wonder because I'm in the war and politics section of my classes right now and I've been wondering if there's any really good pro-war poem. Today, we covered Rupert Brooke's "The Soldier" and Lovelace's "To Lucasta, Going to the Wars," but I think they're fundamentally dishonest poems because they romanticize the ugliness of war. And the war poem examples that are most often taught in classes are the anti-war poems: "Dulce et Decorum Est," "The Death of the Ball Turret Gunner," "i sing of Olaf glad and big" to name a few.

The obvious reason that there are more good anti-war poems than pro-war poems is that the anti-war poems are more vivid. The imagery strikes home harder, because most people understand that war is an ugly thing at best. Even if we believe the claims of military people about things like the surgical strike capability of modern weapons, the facts of war are still horrid. We're not that far removed from the days of

"Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod.
or from
"while kindred intellects evoke
allegiance per blunt instruments--
if indeed we're removed from them at all.

Which brings me to Yeats. How supportive of the Irish revolution is he in that poem? And how honest is he about the implications of the Irish uprising? The simple answer is that I really don't know, as I'm too far removed from the situation and don't have anything concrete to base any opinion on, but my guess is this: he's torn, especially when he asks the question "Was it needless death after all?" Was it necessary for all the people who died that day and afterward to have died? And what of his "terrible beauty"? Is there really anything beautiful about war and bloodshed? I have problems with the concept, personally. I can look at a situation and say that a war may be the only recourse in a situation, or may be justified, but I find it difficult to take that next step and call it beautiful, even qualified with the word terrible.

Because in the end, war is always a failure. It's the result of being unwilling or unable to resolve differences in any other way, which is not to say that it's always a last resort. But it is always a failure, and it's hard to write honest poetry in support of failure without at least acknowledging that there is a failure. Poets like Lovelace and Jessie Pope never acknowledge that, and so their poems ring false, propagandist instead of artful. And I think that, in part, is why war poetry since the Modern period has been almost exclusively anti-war, because there's no way for us --okay, for me--to approach a subject as horrible as war and not acknowledge that it indeed horrible.

This Will End Badly

Georgia has decided to introduce Bible as Lit courses into their high school curricula. The classes won't be required and the school systems won't be forced to offer them--though I suspect many will. The classes are titled "Literature and History of the Old Testament Era" and "Literature and History of the New Testament Era," and the Bible will be the main text for both classes.

The article didn't go into which translation of the Bible will be used--maybe that will be left up to the individual school systems--and that, no doubt will be a point of contention. The Georgia legislator who shepherded this bill to this point added in a caveat--the courses are to be taught "in an objective and nondevotional manner with no attempt made to indoctrinate students."

Now here's the questions I have. First of all, how many high school teachers anywhere, much less those in rural, overwhelmingly evangelical Georgia, are qualified to teach the Bible as literature as opposed to the Bible as religion. This is a state that had to be ordered by a federal judge to remove stickers from textbooks that referred to evolution as "a theory, not a fact." What are the chances that these classes will remain non-devotional?

I'm not uncomfortable with the idea of this as a literature class--I think the Bible ought to be considered a literary book as opposed to as a fount of unquestioned truth, and maybe having students actually read the entire thing would wake them up to some of the uglier sides of the cultures from which that book sprang. But I would like to know what else the class will use as texts. Gilgamesh? Love poetry from ancient Egypt? Socrates? Plato? Aristophanes? How about for the New Testament? If the class is going to be on both history and literature of the New Testament era, then certainly some Suetonius and other Roman historians ought to be included.

I'm very uncomfortable with this as a history class, however. The Bible is not an accurate historical document, especially in the earliest parts of the Old Testament and the Gospels. It's a great collection of cultural snapshots, and we can learn a lot about the peoples of the time by reading their stories, but it's not a history, and again, we're dealing with a place where large segments of the society consider the Bible to be infallible. I don't think I'm being paranoid when I say that the teachers most likely to ask for this class are probably going to be the least qualified to teach it in a non-devotional way.

A Poetry non-complaint and the random ten

Since I spent so much room complaining about Hill's poems, below, I figured I ought to point to something in this month's Poetry that I like. Richard Kenney's "Iris" is not a perfect poem, but it's a nice example of the merging of complex vocabulary with tactile metaphor:

The carborundum-based exobiology landed
Like a...like a bodacious sudden chandelier
Dropped from the midnight sky, scattering

Quick as scat behind every ottoman, divan, vent-
Grille and oven-refrigerator in the Northern
Hemisphere, and commenced to take notes.

The poem ends with an extended quote from what looks like an alien's notebook describing human beings. It's a quirky way of looking at humans--"long water bags, minerally stiffened" is one phrase he uses--and I think it's odd without being off-putting. Kenney's poem just feels to me like it's attempting to talk to me rather than at me.

Here's the random ten--set your iTunes on party shuffle and post the next ten songs that come up. No cheating to make yourself look less cool than you really are, in a sort of anti-cool swerve. Here we go.
1. Here Comes Your Man--The Pixies
2. Going Back to Cali--LL Cool J
3. Of Angels and Angles--The Decembrists
4. Just For Laughs Pt. 1--Charles Mingus
5. The Killing Moon--Nouvelle Vague
6. You Can Dress 'em Up (But You Can't Take 'em Out)--Mojo Nixon
7. Summer Song--Dave Brubeck and Louis Armstrong
8. Get Back--The Beatles
9. Store Bought Bones--The Raconteurs
10. Aqui No Sera--Ozomatli

Anyone want to share this week?

A Poetry Complaint

I probably shouldn't do this, as I have hopes of being published there one day, but I just had this visceral reaction to the first grouping of poems in this month's issue, and I have to vent.

It's by Geoffrey Hill, about whom I know nothing. I've never, to my knowledge, read any of his other work (which may seem strange to those outside the poetry world, but really isn't unusual--there are too many writers to keep up with), but if these poems are indicative, I won't be hunting him up.

Part of it has to do with his subject matter. The second and third poems are titled after classical opuses, one by Handel, the other by Brahms. I don't know the pieces, and I'd be interested in hearing them, as I'm always open to new musical experiences, but there's nothing in the poems to draw me to them. From "Johannes Brahms, Opus 2":

Each phrase sounding its own future
resolution in opposition, discord in harmony

plus some other disporting of mastership.
Ponderable the elan and tensile bracing
with sorrow of acceptance

all-comporting; nothing that comes to grief.

Okay. It's not terribly lively writing, and it's not real specific either. What it smacks of, to me anyway, is a voice that's trying to get away with saying something sufficiently abstract to apply to any number of pieces of music while counting on the obscurity of the title of the piece to resonate with the reader. How is this Brahms Opus 2 as opposed to "Mood Indigo"?

I certainly understand the subjective nature of poetry--I never like everything I read in any journal, and I'd be worried about my critical abilities if I ever did. But Hill's work in this issue of Poetry seems to me to be in a voice that's condescending to the reader, acting as though it's beneath him to actually use metaphor to get its point across. And I'm just not interested in that.

Well, that's one down

The Dorset Prize has been announced, and it wasn't me. Congratulations to Sandra Meek, this year's winner. I scrolled down the list and found I know one finalist, Monica Ferrell (she was a Stegner Fellow also my first year) and one semifinalist, Michael Heffernan, a former teacher of mine from Arkansas. Guess I can start getting nervous about the other end-of-the-year contests as well.

One of my interests as a person who puts characters in conflict with one another is VALUES. Not the "family" kind - at least, not necessarily.

But I can take two characters, one of whom values money and fame, and another who values authenticity and integrity, and I can set them at each other's throats. Or I can make them fall in love, even better.

This one will be a tragedy, but in the end, neither is wrong, both are right - although the audience will no doubt take sides. From her point of view, he was a stubborn, prideful fool to turn down money and fame. From his point of view, she was a shallow show-off who didn't understand the importance of art.

In case you don't recognize it, I'm recounting a bit of Willa Cather's "Coming, Aphrodite!" -- the best short story ever written... yes it is, Robert Frost backs me up on this one, so neener neener: go read it! :-)

But values extend beyond fictional characters. What if you have two cultures, one which values freedom, equality, individuality, and the other which values loyalty, obedience, self-sacrifice?

What if you have one culture that says life is a beautiful gift to be enjoyed and admired and cherished, and another that says we live in a hell on earth, best to separate ourselves from its machinations the best we can and wait for God to save us?

Good, earnest, progressive, open-minded thought has held, for at least as long as I've understood the word "anthropology" (and probably longer) that ours is not to judge, ours is to accept. We tolerate all, even that which we would find intolerable. We accept others' ways, even when they are not the ways we would have for our own.

This is a nice, open-minded approach. But it has limits. And I believe those limits are becoming more important in the 21st Century. I think it's about time we started learning how to be "less tolerant" in a liberal way. I think it's time to find the line between "different" and "abominable."

Ayaan Hirsi Ali was on Bill Maher's show a week ago and he asked her pointedly whether or not Western Civilization were not just "different" from others, but "superior to" - she agreed readily and absolutely. (If you follow the link on her name you'll see this is what the reviewer doesn't like about her book, INFIDEL - that she's too positive about Western culture, especially its most liberal enclaves, like The Netherlands.)

By the way, if you've never read about Ayaan Hirsi Ali, you should. She's amazing: she was born in Somalia, had her clitoris removed as a child, was at one point in her life "proud" to shroud herself from head to toe to prove just HOW Muslim she was - and today she is Dutch politician, film-maker, and activist for women's rights - especially against the barbarism that is female genital mutilation.

You can see where I'm going with this: if a culture's values make it mutilate its daughters' bodies, subject them to innumerable indignities, have them killed by their own families if they are raped, lest the family's "honor" be ruined, then is that culture not BAD? Is it not worthy of being replaced?

I'm not suggesting anything more than what America The West does by default: export McDonald's (halal), Blue Jeans (modest), and Lionel Richie (your guess is as good as mine), and slowly Americanize Amsterdam-ize the world.

Yes, American Western culture is rife with banalities, but aren't banalities simply superior to brutalities?


Should it not be the conscious mission of every modern person to help people living in the stone age to stop living in the stone age?

We're talking about human (women's especially) rights.

Or am I just the audience member picking sides?



Why'd'ja gotta go and burst my blister?

Construction matters and the Random Ten

Much ink and many electrons have been spent on the so-called blunders committed by Barack Obama and John McCain about whether the lives of soldiers in Iraq have been wasted or not. Let's get one point straight from the outset--calling their lives wasted in no way denigrates the sacrifice they made, and to argue that it does is simple dishonesty. But let's look at what the men actually said, because their construction of the sentences matters.

Obama's statement, generally shortened to some version of "soldiers deaths = wasted lives" was actually this: "we've seen over three thousand lives... wasted." The question, then, is by whom, and the obvious answer is the Bush administration. Looking at the entire quote as opposed to the paraphrase makes it clearer what Obama was saying, though the passive voice doesn't help matters. At any rate, what's obvious is that Obama was not using the equation mentioned above.

And neither was McCain, though he didn't make the same point that Obama did. McCain said "We've wasted a lot of our most precious treasure, which is American lives." No passive construction there, but again, the soldiers' sacrifices are not being called wasted--their lives have been wasted in that sentence, and what's more, McCain says that he bears some of the responsibility for that, as he's been a supporter of this fiasco from the beginning. He's right, too--those lives have been wasted, because they were sacrificed needlessly, and for a goal which, ill-defined as it was, will never be reached.

Here's the random ten for this week--the iTunes is on Party shuffle, and I'm in a party mood because I'm on spring break now. Hawaiian shirts are out of storage, and the beer is on ice. Here's the next ten in the list.

1. Personal Jesus--Johnny Cash
2. Don't Bust My Chops--The Ramones
3. Yoruba Road--Boozoo Bajou
4. Nowalaters--The Coup
5. 91 Dodge Van--Thinking Fellers Union Local 282
6. Casimir Pulaski Day--Sufan Stevens
7. Saturday Night--Ozomatli
8. What a Good Boy--Barenaked Ladies
9. Stonehenge--Spinal Tap
10. Hush--Squirrel Nut Zippers

So what's your spring Break listening groove? Or, alternatively, what beer are you planning on drinking this weekend? Anything--just comment.



When hot ramen soup in ceramic bowl meets unshod foot at high velocity, results are disastrous.

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