Today's LJ-World offers a (somewhat frightening) account of Gill-style football:
"With his team on one knee, huddled in front of him, Gill called on senior place kicker Jacob Branstetter to lead the Jayhawks in one of the team’s new traditions: a letter-by-letter reciting of the team mantra “B.E.L.I.E.V.E.”
B: Believe in each other and the things not yet seen.
E: Empower people by encouragement.
L: Learn and press on toward the goal.
I: Influence by being a positive role model.
E: Expect great effort all the time.
V: Visualize excellence.
E: Enjoy the college football experience."
Chip: "I wonder if the crowd will be asked to pray prior to kick-off. Not that I'm necessarily opposed to it, mind you, so long as it inspires our boys to rip some fucking heads off."
Richard: "I'm more worried about the team's apparent inability to spell the word 'believe,' as revealed in this quote from wide receiver Chris Omigie regarding the mantra: 'I think it’s more just remembering how to spell it than remembering the words of it. Some people just get it mixed up.'”
Readers, do you know what "chiptune" means? No, it does not refer to Chip's habit of walking around whistling Justin Bieber songs, but rather a term for computer-generated music that's not uncommon in contemporary hipster bands, such as Xiu Xiu, playing tonight at the Jackpot. Xiu Xiu has been around awhile and they are on the Kill Rock Stars label, which means the hipsters should be out in force. Pitchfork gives their new album, Dear God, I Hate Myself, a 7.3:
"Over a rubbery pulse, "Chocolate Makes You Happy" seems to transform bar by bar-- flurries of computer noise, broken bells, touch-tone synths and more weave in and out of the aching vocal line. These are songs with their hair sticking up. This cultivated chaos produces complex music filled with insinuating hooks."
Cl.thier: "Songs don't have hair, Pitchfork."
Well, Pitchfork critics may not be masters of metaphor, Cl.thier, but we don't think you'll argue when we say that these lyrics from Xiu Xiu's "In Lust, You Can Hear the Axe Fall" are pure poetry:
"discolored at the bite of a pear
cut love me
cut love me into your breast
crush a pastry into your breast
wipe your hole clean, lover's blood
to have learned nothing
stitch it stitch it stitch it stitch it
tell me you are bad, busy witch
passive as a toilet
eat it eat it eat it eat it
who there is, who is not bored but this flaw?
discolored by the bite of an ox"