I wish I could tell you wearing a wool hat to the beach in July was a good idea and that my head did not turn into a drippy gross sauna. I wish I could tell you that, but the beach is no fairy tale world.
A: Oh, my child. My sweet, innocent child! Yes, in 2011 I wrote sixteen hundred or so words about Max Rebo, his band, and their deleted-from-history hit “Lapti Nek” for Crawdaddy!, and they even paid me for it! Can you fucking believe it? Dig in:
Yes, you should read them in order. Yes, if you have some special acetate of an unreleased “Lapti Nek” dance mix featuring Harrison Ford on vocals I want you to send me the MP3. No, I have no idea where Max Rebo’s magic space keyboard is today.
Or “Writer Rehashes Content You’ve Already Ignored Once.”
Estonia officially adopts the Euro as its national currency. The singer from an nth generation rockabilly band accuses a toy conglomerate of stealing her identity. The Green Hornet is theatrically released, but I hear mixed things, so I decide to wait until it’s on DVD.
The White Stripes break up, allowing me to finally admit I was always a fan. I get food poisoning at my own Super Bowl party from a batch of eggplant-based dip. A computer beats Ken Jennings on “Jeopardy!”, shaming this country’s entire Mormon population.
I interview Mike Watt at the suggestion of my Crawdaddy! editor; the chat goes well, but I later regret not asking more questions about “Piss Bottle Man.” Zoogz Rift dies. Yuppies have a collective hissy fit when it’s announced the new season of “Mad Men” will be delayed until 2012.
Prince William marries Kate Middleton. I commemorate the early ’90s advertising ubiquity of MC Hammer. I also attempt to finish writing “We Didn’t Start The Fire” for Billy Joel. Yuppies have a collective hissy fit when this month sees the end of both LCD Soundsystem and Steve Carrell’s tenure on “The Office.”
I issue not one but two lengthy feature reports on forgotten Star Wars disco song “Lapti Nek”; unfortunately, they come too late in the year for Pulitzer Prize consideration. A personal trip to Minneapolis fails to yield any Prince sightings.
I discover via Twitter that the little kid from Cop & A Half is a rapper. Seth Putnam dies. Super 8 is released, and the scene were the children all sing “My Sharona” strikes me as not only grating but historically improbable; while I am researching this story, my boss calls to tell me Crawdaddy! is folding.
I interview “Weird Al” Yankovic, fulfilling a life-long dream. I see The Green Hornet and my distaste for Seth Rogen is cemented.
It is revealed that Steve Jones from the Sex Pistols didn’t really play on The Great Milenko. The original Star Wars movies are released on Blu-Ray with even more ridiculous CGI scribbling. A personal trip to Denver fails to yield any Sinbad sightings.
I publish my investigation into the Atari Landfill legend after it’s clear no one from the former video game giant can sue me. My favorite soda Vault is discontinued. Anthrax finally release Worship Music; riots erupt nowhere in response.
Steve Jobs dies, ostensibly before hearing a single note of Lulu. I interview Raj from “What’s Happening!!” and discover he’s a cool guy. After several seasons of speculation, Dr Pepper announces that they have no affiliation with “South Park.” The best song of the year is released.
The Justin Bieber Christmas album drops and gives the world a moment to reconsider Busta Rhymes. I eat pizza for Thanksgiving.
Americans suspect Coca-Cola of flavor treachery. Universal Studios Florida announces the closure of their Jaws attraction. An image surfaces that proves noted UFOlogist Giorgio Tsoukalos once combed his hair. Kim Jong-Il dies. I live the cliché by getting socks for Christmas.
Calendar stores: they exist, and right now many of them are trying to squeeze the final savory drops out of 2011’s greatest/most uncomfortable celebrity meltdown. Sorry, Madison Avenue, but “Winning!” is headed back in time, not forward, to the same marketing graveyard that entombs the Budweiser frogs and Burger King’s disastrous “I’m Not Herb” campaign. The party’s over.
In other news: Sarah Michelle Gellar has hypnotized me with her intense stare and perfect hair forever. What’s that, Sarah? Watch the Scooby Doo movies? Okay, whatever you say.
Guest bird flip courtesy of Andrew “D-Roc” McMahon.
Let’s close the book on this turkey already. Hooray for 2011.