little known facts about “white wedding”

little known facts about “white wedding”


  • adam sandler, a well known time traveller and prankster, travelled back in time while filming the wedding singer to play rhythem guitar on the song.
  • the lead guitarist was also Billy Idol’s driver. when Billy asked to be taken back home (because he mistakenly thought he’d left the oven on), the driver/guitarist misunderstood and instead of bringing the car around to the front of the studio, played a sick guitar solo.
  • Billy was so shocked to see his producer Mutt sitting in the control room casually cleaning his antique 1901 Winchester lever-action shotgun, that he yelled out “Shotgun!” while recording vocal overdubs. The exclamation fit the song so well, that Mutt decided to keep it! Later, Billy would become famous for becoming the face of the “see something, say something” ad campaign.
  • the industrial rock band i was in at uni did a cover of this song, but we didn’t have a very good recording of our version so when we sent a demo tape to play at the local spring festival, we just tacked on the Billy Idol version after our four original songs. it was a stupid stupid thing to do.

the history of k, zero through two. possibly three.

OKYou may not know that the first “k” was actually the zeroeth k–thusly: 0-k. It was thought to have been created by a bored Pascal programmer — therefore he or she always started with zero, rather than 1. In fact, the nomenclature assigned to zero-k was thought to be a rebellious act by a programmer sick of FORTRAN’s indexing (beginning with 1 instead of 0). The identity of this programmer is unknown, but at the time (1970) there were only a few dozen die-hard Pascal programmers in the world, so the pool of possible candidates is small. Here is the documentation, in its entirety, that came with the release of 0-k:

On the development of new arbitrary taxonomic k-like structure
Here the anonymous author purports to create a novel structure to be used in as of yet understood algorithms or other proto-class and/or taxonomic constructs. This structure is defined in the Pascal programming language and is now called “k” The first iteration is the zero-k, and will obviously be described with indices un-related to that reprobate FORTRAN. Future iterations will further develop the necessary complexity and intricacy needed for its purpose. Which at this point in time has yet to be defined.

The preceding was published without comment in the January 29, 1970 issue of Programming Daily.

The article was very popular and soon all programmers were talking about 0-k. In a 1974 TIME article a Bell Labs researcher by the name of Dennis Richie (possibly Ritchie) used the phrase, and the reporter dutifully reported it as “0k.” The public latched on quickly and before the end of the year, Richard Nixon was using the phrase “O.K.” in congressional hearings, and the rest is history. But history was not yet done with k.

A few years later, another much longer and much more complex paper on a new k-structure was published. The 1-k was introduced in 1986, but not many people noticed. In fact, there are exactly zero papers citing the 1-k article, although that may have something to do with the difficulty in citing a paper that is impossible to find. The article was published in the back of a punk-rock zine called “Punk-gramming” and no complete copy of the article has ever been found. It was again published anonymously, leading many to believe that the original author was in fact not involved at all. 1-k didn’t fail completely though. The author’s avant garde marketing and promotion of the structure (through the underground music scene) was seen as a breakthrough for companies desperate to reach a unique and underdeveloped audience: middle class American teenagers.

The marketing strategy was not good enough to save a wretched product, however, and 1-k was essentially wiped from the memories of everyone the moment they laid eyes on it.

Everyone loves a comeback, though, and in the mid-to-late 90s, come back k did.

There’s no such thing as bad publicity

PT Barnum could not have possibly predicted the circumstances leading to the rise and sustained blast of 2-k. It may not ring a bell in your consciousness just yet, but just wait. 2-k came published printed on each and every motherboard of the Power Macintosh 4400 in November 1996, but nobody noticed until early the next year after a vitriolic Steve Jobs appeared in a nationwide television ad campaign famous for the closing seconds where a foaming, crazed Jobs runs toward the camera and screams “Whyyyyy twooooo kaaaaaaaay?!?!”

And now your memory is jogged, right? “2-k” — it was always destined to be Y2K. The author, again, is unknown. But the list of candidates here becomes quite small. Who had access to the printed circuit board designs for the Power Macs? We can never be completely sure, but the least I can do–as an intrepid investigative journalist–is suggest that Steve Jobs himself may have been involved. To what end? We may never know. All we know is that Steve Jobs was a huge dick.

The circus surrounding the Y2K panic will not soon be forgotten by 90s kids, so let us not go into that. What we shall consider, though, is the possibility of what is next for k.

There are whisperings and mutterings on the blackest of the dark webs. Even the scariest spiders refuse to crawl upon these sticky strands of pure hate, evil, and anonymosity. Still, the whispers and incantations speak of a third k. Three k may be coming, but are we ready for it? Is it already here? Is it on your doorstep, scratching at the your teak door? Scritch, scritch, scritch… Or is it right… under… your… nose?











ieatpants on the strugle of art music sea life or some dumb crap like that

ireland is nice, tho, right?

time keeps passing and not in the good way — like when your listening to some minimalist drone hits and as time moves forward you fall deeper and deeper into a transcendental state of bliss and/or seething sea of rage? that’s the good kind of time. the kind that reminds you that it’s impossible to be happy or content or to have fun without moments passing you by. and with reflection on those past moments the present is empty. that’s like a textbook definition of bliss, amiright?

but i digress.

what i’m trying to say is that ieatpants lives in west  ireland now. along the the atlantic ocean. it’s the closest i could get to brooklyn while still being in europe (don’t @ me with fact checks, yo). throw in a raging toddler and it could be said that i am on unsure footing. and as time crawls by, passing in front me, it carries with it chances to write music and sing songs. lately time feels like opportunities lost to the past and nothing more. regrets piling up tossed under my bed. it’s a bit dusty under there and the apartment gets moldy and gathers mildew. we’ve got to keep those areas properly aired out. let some of that ocean breeze into the flat.

life is different here and that’s something to write about. it could be said that i’m on my way to fixing things, but we’ll only know for sure some time from now.

ho ho ho mahry xmas

Hanukkah is Harry,
let us not despairy.
It’s midnite in the garden of good and scary.
So so,
so-so scary.
the candy man can!

i like the girls
who like lollipops
i like the girls
who don’t know when to don’t stop
one hand on the gummy worm
the other on the moon pie
white chocolate on your lips
better lick it off and shit
you say
you like the pixie stix
i got a stick for you
that’s long and sweeter
on your knees
in the back of my shop
we’ll roll around
in the chocolate and peter (butter)

mahry xmas ebery1oe!

i will punch

i will punch
your nose into your eyes
the testosterone flies
it’s a set of torrid lies
that we decry

i will best
the worst thoughts in my mind
purge them from all crime
set their hearts afire
and then whisper:

“i will puuuuuuuuunch”

“you look so angry”
well, duh

may i give you an update (get it? cause it’s may)

listen, there’s not a lot of activity right now in the pants household. there are a few punk rock songs in the works, but not punk rock like green day; more punk rock like the minutemen…

there’s tons of bands calling themselves punk rock, but i’m reading michael azerrad’s our band could be your life, and i’m blown away by bands like black flag and minor threat who were insanely influential without ever actually making much money. there wasn’t even the promise or dream of money. only the promise of a fist in their faces.

there is an independent spirit that is truly missing from music—at least the music i normally listen to. this isn’t some old man rant (although technically i am an old man ranting), just an observation of my own listening habits and of the music that surrounds me.

black flag was angry. really really angry. the los angeles police saw them as a threat. cops were seriously scared of what might happen at their shows. what band today can say the same?

minor threat sang a dictate to its audience: “don’t drink, don’t smoke, don’t fuck”—giving a million teenagers a glimmer of a hope of a future that didn’t involve some fucking cheap vice.

the minutemen played on bills with black flag and other hardcore bands, but were more folky and organic—showing how the idea of punk rock was more about how you made music, rather than what the music sounded like.
d. boon and mike watt

in summary: “indie” rock is not very fucking indie. we should do something to change it.

also, i just found out that kira roessler, who played bass in black flag, now does dubbing and dialogue editing on game of motherfucking thrones.

black fucking flag

fucking awesome.

the universe is cold, video

there’s something weird about this song. it’s included on “the empire never ended,” (available for download/streaming at which includes songs inspired by sci-fi author and all around insane genius life hacking guru philip k dick.

but “the universe is cold” is the only song that isn’t tied to a specific novel, story, or pkd-related event.

it was written in the fall of 2009 after a date (it must’ve been our 3rd or 4th date) with my now wife, and at the time, i was reading ‘Martian Time Slip’ so there is some loose connection.

anyway, pkd writes a lot about the duality of the universe — life and death; good and evil; etc etc etc., and this song is about where those things meet, which to me is a crucial idea for understanding life.

it sounds ridiculous, i guess, but the idea is that life and death are part of a cycle of adaptation and evolution; that we’re not really the lifeforms we think we are. that life is, in fact, bigger than all of us combined. that the universe and time exist as one variation in an infinite struggle that ends… how? when? i guess we don’t know. and why should we? the bacteria that live in our stomachs and help us turn carrots into poop have no idea where their host is going, so why should we?

i’m not saying we’re stuck in some host’s stomach, but it’s the closest metaphor i can come up with.

so, yep. here you go. the video. an old yiddish animation. featuring a goat.

the universe is cold
and i can’t make it
i can’t live
in this universe
we prove that the end is near
we’ve torn our hearts from the ground
we’ll watch as our bodies decay
we’ll stand above our own graves
singing our own funeral songs
rustling our feet through dead leaves
that were once
our rotting flesh
soft acrid smell
it is our body’s last wish
to bury itself
to watch
as it ends

greatest growth show management excercises team building ieatpants

MurakamiI got pretty excited when I had a chance to play at goodbye blue monday last saturday, but the truth is… I was suppose to play there once before.

It was the summer of 2008 and there were many birds in the sky. Too many birds. Toomany. To Mahni birds.

Anyay, where was I?

Oh yeah, that summer I managed to get on the bill for Goodbye Blue Monday’s lovely-memorial-daylong-drinkalong-barbecue-music celebration. I was told there would be beer and food and music starting in the early afternoon. It sounded awesome then and it still sounds freaking cool now.

So I arrive at like 2 or 3 carrying my favorite and heaviest guitar amp as well as many many pedals and a guitar, I guess. I sat with my girlfriend at the time and my good pal ebrownabouttown who, to this day, comes to all my shows and is the coolest guy ever. Watch out for his upcoming christmas musical spectacular. I think there will be an all men shirtless choir? Wow, I like, digress…

The short-of-breath version of this long-winded story is that we sat around and drank until it started to get dark and then there was no music and I felt a little put off by the whole thing. I carried around a weird amount of guilt about this event for a few years. Had I not been rigorous enough about checking on set times? Who else was supposed to be playing? What other info had I missed?

If you know anything about me, then you know that I can get obsessively focused on little poops like that.

It was a bad summer, and in many ways signaled a call to action for me. The failed gig/Memorial Day didn’t cause it, but it was one of many things that made me change direction in my life.

Anyway, quickly let’s move forward to late summer 2012 and the guitarist for the awesome band teribalanamal asks me if I’d like to play a gig with them. It’s their first gig ever and so I want to say yes, but the show is at the aforementioned venue. I get kind of a twangy vibe up my spine and suddenly fear for my future as well as for my children’s future — but NOT THEIR CHILDREN. Fuck ’em, I say. So, I summon my courage, call myself a fool for being so ridiculous, and make the gig mine.

Cutting to the point: the worry was all for naught. The show started on time. The sound guy (Mark, I think?) was awesome and patient and brilliant and spot on.

There is a moral here (something about personal growth and responsibility). We didn’t get paid, but we did have a great neighborhood crowd and a blast was had by all. And later, there was dancing. I wasn’t dancing, but some other people were, so that’s pretty cool.

Later, I’ll post some images or video or something, but for now I’m just content that I was able to successfully end a four-year period of self-wrought regret and shame.

Also melodramatic blog posts (Just kidding; there’s more to come).