The Vienna Franks are a good example of urban white acid folk revivalism crossed with ska.

I tried to think of a witty play on Every picture tells a thousand words, but then the whole word/picture thing collapsed on me.

maybe memories are like karaoke-where you realize up on the stage, with all those lyrics scrawling across the screen's bottom, and with everybody clapping at you, that you didn't know even half the lyrics to your all-time favourite song. Only afterwards, when someone else is up on stage humiliating themselves amid the clapping and laughing, do you realize that what you liiked most about your favourite song was precisely your ignorance of its full meaning- and you read more into it than maybe existed in the first place. I think it's better to not know the lyrics to your life.

Canadians can easily 'pass for American' as long as we don't accidentally use metric measurements or apologize when hit by a car.

In periods of rapid personal change, we pass through life as though we are spellcast. We speak in sentences that end before finishing. We sleep heavily because we need to ask so many questions as we dream alone. We bump into others and feel bashful at recognizing souls so similar to ourselves.

Chronocanine Envy: Sadness experienced when one realized that, unlike one's dog, one cannot live only in the present tense. As Kierkegaard said, "Life must be lived forward.

Do you ever just want to take your car out onto the highway and gun the engine as fast as you can and then close your eyes and see what happens?