You know those people who claim they read Playboy just for the articles? Yeah, well Dimitri From Paris just one-upped them by claiming that the best part about visiting the Playboy Mansion is the decor. Yeah right, this is about as believable as Will from Senryu claiming that he only watches porn for the bloopers. C’mon Dimitri, admit it, I mean Hef’s a pretty classy guy, so the decor is probably really nice, but don’t tell me you didn’t spend copious amounts of time in the grotto staring at some tig ol’ bitties. You’re in a goddamn den of sin. THE goddamn den of sin, in fact, and you’re studying the artwork, statues, and drapery? I think not! By the way, did you know that there’s a Playboy – The Mansion video game for Playstation 2? What the fuck can this game possibly be about? Do you guide Hef through the Mansion as he searches for his Viagra? Is there a party tonight and Vince Neil, Gary Busey, and Scott Baio have gone missing, so it’s up to you to rescue them? According to video game megasite IGN: Developed by Cyberlore Studios, Playboy: The Mansion is an adult-oriented management sim that blends various tycoon and social simulation gameplay mechanics with the glamour and regalia associated with the world’s most famous men’s magazine. As Hugh Hefner, players must strategically create the content of the Playboy publication including images and articles, as they adjust to an ever-changing market on a road filled with riches and fame. To do so, users must build their fantasy mansion from grounds to grotto, throw parties, rub shoulders with VIPs, and live up to the free-minded Playboy lifestyle. You can even interact with your guests, setup interviews and photo-shoots, and partake in more intimate activities that we cannot even begin to describe here. Some of those “intimate activities” that they cannot describe include having sex in the bedroom, having sex in the grotto in front of other people, having sex in the living room in front of other people, and Dance Dance Revolution. By the way, I’d just like to point this little observation out: Apparently, sex in the living room is so boring that it puts people to sleep. Such is life in the wild, uninhibited Playboy Mansion. By the way, I hear that if you beat the game without continuing, you unlock a special dance party hosted by DJ Dimitri From Paris himself

In honor of all the love we’ve been getting from 10 Links A Day, who were gracious enough to let us guest blog on their site this week, not to mention the awesome write up that Tilzy.tv gave us yesterday, I’ve decided to eschew my normal pessimistic outlook for one day and do an actual, honest to goodness, blog on the positive tip. Somewhere in hell, the Devil is wearing a parka right now.

Yesterday I posted a quick blog pimping our ongoing collaboration with 10 Links a Day, as well as bemoaning the fact that yours truly, The Shark, was not asked to be the inaugural guest blogger. Well, quicker than I could put on a pair of clean underwear after hitting the “publish” button (remember, I often blog immediately after waking up in yesterday’s underwear), 10 Links responded to my post with the following:

Dear The Shark,
We welcome you to blog with 10linksaday anytime. Thanks for the entertaining props. See you on 10linksaday really soon!

Honestly, when I complained about not being the guest blogger, I was just being a bit whiny. I wasn’t prepared to post 10 links of anything that I think you should visit. I go to like 8 websites a day, and half of them are either running or bowling related, cynically mean, or just flat out weird. You don’t want me guiding you around the web, I’d just send you links to dancing hamsters and hilariously awful David Lee Roth isolated vocals. (By the way, if you haven’t heard Running With The Devil – vocals only yet, PLEASE click that link. You’ll thank me later).

But now that I’ve been formally invited by 10 Links a Day, I can’t turn them down., they’re our new friends They’ve got me under the gun, and the pressure’s on full blast. I feel like Keanu Reeves in Speed – trying to get 30 some-odd innocent strangers off a bus while keeping it above 50mph, when all I really wanna do is bang Sandra Bullock before she goes and ruins her career by doing Miss Congeniality and Miss Congeniality 2. Except, of course, instead of a packed, speeding city bus loaded with C4, I’m on a stationary dining room chair alone in my apartment, there’s no bomb, no Dennis Hopper calling the shots, and the only thing Sandra Bullock is doing is frustrating me by not having any good nipple slips available on Mr. Skin.

It’ll take me a few more days (weeks) to cultivate my 10 Links, but right now, I want to share with you another list – My Top 5 Reasons to Love Indie, because let’s face it, if you’re reading this, you’re probably an indie rock fan, but do you really know WHY you love indie so much? Neither do I, but I’m really good at bullshitting – hey, how do you think I got this job? Qualifications? Ha! – so without further ado, here’s The Shark’s

5 Reasons to Love Indie

1. No bullshit major label censoring. Here’s a deep, dark secret that you can use against me – I worked for MTV Networks for 5 years, and dealt with tons of high profile, major label acts (yes, even Nickelback *shudder*). When we interviewed bands, we weren’t allowed to ask certain types of questions that were deemed “controversial,” even if they were laughably playful and innocent. Bands and artists were so well media trained that they painfully censored themselves to maintain their well-manicured image to the public. Ugh. You’d never hear a major label act talk about race like Del The Funky Homosapien
   
2. Indie artists, for the most part, embrace the internet. Sure, it’s not cool to illegally download anyone’s songs, but most indie artists won’t sue you for it, they’ll just kindly ask you to support them by coming out to their shows.
   
   Hell, if you still feel guilty, you can buy them a beer after the show. Which leads me to my next point…
3. Accessibility – Do me a favor, the next time you go to an indie show, hang out around the bar afterward. I’ll bet you my left nut that at least one or two band members will eventually sidle up to you and have a drink. That’s what I love about indie bands – they’re fucking down to earth. I know firsthand from interviewing them for Uncensored Interview that most indie bands are cool as shit, and love bullshitting with the fans, knocking a few back, even partying afterward. Unless you’re a 21 year old Double D groupie, you ain’t partying with Fall Out Boy after their Roseland gig, hombre.
4. The Fashion and The Fans – Sure, I knock tight jeans, Beatles hairstyles, and wildly ungroomed facial hair all the time, and unless I lose a bet where the other option is the death of my firstborn son, you’ll never see me sporting any of those in my lifetime. But at the same time it’s refreshing to go to a rock show and not be surrounded by dirty Nirvana and Pantera t-shirts, emo-rific haircuts, and 13 year old girls in black eyeliner with their parents standing awkwardly behind them. There’s something intrinsically cool about an indie rock crowd, whether they’re wearing skintight jeans and hoodies, sporting glasses and Into The Wild facial hair, or dressed like the band Stillwater from Almost Famous:
   
5. The Music – Let’s face it, major labels have been chasing the indie mystique for years, trying to create bands that look and sound somewhat indie, while keeping the music slick and polished. It hasn’t worked – you can’t recreate indie without the trials and tribulations of being indie. Indie music sounds like it does naturally, be it because of haggard equipment, old school production techniques, or just rush recording on the cheap. It can’t be faked. I’ll take a band like The Kills over The Strokes any day. This is why music is heading away from the major labels and back towards the basements, garages, and living rooms of aspiring artists and fans today – because bands like The Whigs, The Oaks, and Ungdomskulen are making great, balls-out fucking rock music that takes chances, while the majors are churning out another bland Daughtry album.

Uncensored Interview is taking over 10 Links a Day today, and we’re featuring some of OUR favorite indie lifestyle blogs. My favorite’s #10, if you ask me.

For some reason, they didn’t ask The Shark to blog on 10 Links a Day. I guess they’re afraid I’d post my 10 favorite anti-children sites, or maybe my top 10 Pro-Carnivore organizations. Ah, it’s probably for the best, I don’t feel like coming home from my run later to find my inbox flooded with emails from my bosses telling me we’ve lost half our daily viewership thanks to me.

Anyway, check out Uncensored Interview’s 10 Links a Day blog and show us some love in the comments section. I think we’re going to be a featured guest blogger on the site a few more times, so tell them, no, DEMAND to them that The Shark be able to post his favorite 10 Links. I promise, no weird German porno or animal fetish sites, I learned my lesson from when I won that Disney contest.

Shark Thought of The Day

If I could pick 1 superpower to have, it would be the ability to never have to shower. That way, I could go around and commit crimes while all of the other superheros were in the shower.

I was sitting in my friend’s backyard in Philly this holiday weekend, cold beer in hand, cigar in mouth, working on my farmer’s tan, trying to brainstorm scams ways to make money in these times of harsh national recession. The best idea I could come up with was an elaborate pet-napping “business” that I just didn’t feel cruel enough to run. Plus, pets bite, and this gorgeous tan-red skin of my just doesn’t look good with puncture wounds. Later on in the day I was showing one of my friends the site and I randomly clicked on this clip of Josh Cohen from Tilzy.tv talking about how he defines indie today: This was a sign from above, like the burning bush, or seeing Jesus in a piece of french toast. God (through Josh) was telling me to turn Uncensored Interview from a one-stop shop for all your indie music needs into a religion! Genius! Thank you God! And Josh! Hey, for your inspiration alone, I’m canonizing Tilzy.tv as one of the high saints of Uncensoredism. Our motto – Cheaper Than Catholicism, Saner Than Scientology, and Tastier Than Judaism. That’s right, there’s no mourning, no giving 5% of your weekly paycheck to us (we only ask for a much more manageable 3%), no space aliens flying DC-7’s into volcanos, and the best part – all the pork and shellfish you can eat. Oh, and forget about those super-early 9am Sunday masses. The morning of the Sabbath is strictly for detoxing from the drunken Saturday night you barely remember. The only blood of anything you’ll be imbibing is a Bloody Mary to shake off that killer hangover you’re sporting, champ. Mass will be held when you feel like it, probably sometime after Brunch. Oh, and we’re getting better wine. None of that holy boxed crap in our tabernacle, we’ll be serving perhaps a 2001 Pinot Noir from Napa Valley, or maybe an Australian Shiraz to go with the hot baked bread we give out at the end. No tasteless wafer for our members. And the best part – all masses will be webcast, so you don’t even have to leave your bedroom to worship. I’ll even ask Josh Cohen to write up a good review and promote our religion on Tilzy, that should help line my pockets with gold, YOUR GOLD drum up membership. Look, isn’t it high time you started asking more from your religion other than unnecessary guilt, bland food, and the ever-looming threat of eternal damnation? Shouldn’t your religion not only fill the empty void inside you, but also your iPod with cool new music as well? Did whatever god you currently believe in really create this amazing planet for us to sit in a boring, echo-ey hall and chant the same crap over and over again while the cafe on the corner is offering unlimited Mimosas from 12 – 4? Think about it, and then give me a call (and your credit card number, just for our files). Praise be to indie!

Ok, that might very well be the least masculine title of a blog that you will ever see me write. But I’m hungover this morning and I can’t seem to muster my manly creative juices just yet, so deal with it. Cary Brothers is an accomplished singer/songwriter who’s had songs featured in Major Motion Pictures, and headlined the awesome Hotel Cafe Tour, but even he is powerless at times to the ungodly seductive power of… Sussudio:

Lucky for me, I’m immune to Phil Collins’ irresistible pop sensibilities (except of course for “You Can’t Hurry Love, which no human can resist). However, last night while drinking heavily at Ski Bar in Bay Ridge while playing darts (always a good idea, by the way), my roommate and I discovered that we both shared the same, borderline masculine guilty pleasure – mother fucking Hall and Oates! We were two grown men in the middle of a bar in Brooklyn literally fighting over which song from The Very Best of Hall and Oates to play. My vote was for I Can’t Go For That (No Can Do), his pick was Private Eyes. You know who won out in the end? BOTH OF US, after we realized you get two mother fucking plays for one mother fucking dollar, bitch!

Oh man, I’m probably going to get reamed for admitting this, but all we wanted to do when we got home was listen to more H&O and fantasize about growing a mustache like John Oates. Isn’t that thing fucking gorgeous? Little known fact: John Oates’ mustache actually came in 4th place at the 1984 Miss Georgia pageant. He screwed up the question and answer section.

Shark Thought Of The Day

I hope that if the world ever ends, it goes like this: All the panda bears in the world unite and set off a bunch of nuclear weapons, so just before the mushroom cloud reaches us, we can all turn to the animal rights people and give them a nice, slow, scornful clap.

Sure, Girl In A Coma, you should close your eyes and use only your ears to properly judge good music. And after an impromptu bike jaunt from Bay Ridge to Prospect Park and back yesterday, I’m starting to think people are really taking your advice to heart. Too bad they’re fucking doing it while DRIVING.

I swear, I must have seen my life flash before my eyes at least 7 times yesterday thanks to aloof, potentially narcoleptic drivers who carelessly swerved, backed-up, and swung open their car doors without abandon as I rode on their right. It was like I had a bullseye painted on me (I do look good in red, by the way). I kept thinking to myself “Are you fucking KIDDING ME??” as cars all along Fort Hamilton Parkway (which runs through Borough Park and Little Chinatown in Brooklyn, which should tell you something) kept one-upping each other in my new imaginary award category of Most Incompetent Fucking Driving. At one point some middle aged douche on his cellphone cut in front of me, stopped short, and started BACKING UP into me. I cut around to his left, stopped by his window, and asked “Hey, did you take classes for that?” “Classes for what?” he bemusedly responded. “Driving with your head up your fucking ass” I yelled, and pedaled away.

Does the DMV seriously even screen driver’s license applicants anymore? Or do they just hand out licenses for simply showing up? I bet I can walk into the DMV sporting huge Stevie Wonder sunglasses, a cane, and a guide dog, and they’d happily hand me a license. I’d even ask if I could take the written test in braille, just in case my whole get-up didn’t drive the point home enough already. God, drivers fucking irk me. Not me, of course, because everyone knows I’m an awesome driver, but pretty much everyone else on the road I could do without.

When I got back from my death-defying park jaunt yesterday, I sat down to catch my breath and reflect on the numerous near-death experiences I encountered in the previous hour. At first I chalked it up to just having a bad day, and of course, the neighborhood I was biking through. Look, I’m not racist or anything, but let’s be honest here, there are certain ethnic groups who are not as apt or skilled behind the wheel of an automobile as others. You know what I’m talking about. But then something hit me like a wantonly swung-open car door – didn’t I do an interview with The Oaks a while back where Matt vented about how terrible drivers in Florida were?

Maybe today wasn’t an isolated incident, maybe everyday in every city in America there are pedestrians and bicyclists like me who have to deal with shithead driving as they attempt to traverse their streets. And so it dawned on me – why not unite my fellow brethren and sistren (new word I just made up, suck it grammar nazis) against these terrible road warriors by creating a new website showcasing the absolute most inane, incredibly terrible (increterrible – another new word, booyah!), jaw-droppingly bad driving across the country. I’m calling it www.AreYouKiddingMe.com, because that’s what I find myself thinking, and increasingly screaming everytime I’m nearly killed in an intersection by a douchebag on his cellphone, or by 93 year old Grandpa Joe who can’t see over the wheel, or insert random immigrant nationality who doesn’t seem to care that we drive on the right side here in America. I’m just going to set up a camera on a random street corner along Fort Hamilton Parkway in Borough Park each day and shoot away. It’ll be like bird watching, only with 2 ton flightless automobiles, tons of confusion, and lots of swear words.

One hitch so far – the domain name seems to be registered to someone else, so odds are I’ll have to try and buy it off them, or if worse comes to worse, have them killed. But I really think this could work. Anyone interested in being a regular contributor?

Gonna keep this one brief today. May have to bail a close friend out of jail in a few hours. Could you believe that if someone pays you to have sex with them AND tapes it, it’s completely legal. But turn the camera off, and suddenly it’s prostitution. I hope I have enough rolled quarters to get my friend out. Sure, I could use dollars, but why make things easy on them? Let ‘em have a story to tell.

Anyway, we caught up with Hotel Cafe Tour veteran and all around awesome musician Cary Brothers at SXSW earlier this year, and asked him how he stays green on the road. Sometimes, it’s what you DON’T do that matters. Like for instance, the other day, I decided NOT to have a “who can throw more toxic mercury-filled compact fluorescent lightbulbs off my balcony” contest with my roommate. Instead, we just threw frozen waterballoons at schoolchildren. Look at me, being all green and shit.

Shark Thought of the Day

Whenever a child gets kidnapped, raped, and murdered, how come it’s always the guy in the bloody clown suit who becomes the prime suspect right away? Maybe he just cut himself while juggling.