CarbonStated

The internet is full of empty promises, one of which are the ubiquitous ads promising to teach you the secrets to getting upgraded to first/business class.  Of course, we all want to sit in front of the plane.  We all want to be the target of those envious looks of people streaming past us to the steerage compartment.  With a drink in one hand and your legs stretched, the skies are far more comfortable.  Your Local Internet Whore has flown in the front of the plane a few times and can report that the upgrade is worth it.

But let's be frank, unless you have several tens of thousands in your bank or frequently flyer account, you are not getting anywhere near first class.  And, please, don't be an asshole and just sit up there.  The flight attendants are far smarter than you.

Your next best bet is to avoid those really shitty seats in coach.  You know, the seats that don't recline or force you to enjoy the odiferous deposits of your fellow passengers in the lavatories. To the rescue, comes www.seatguru.com.  With seat maps and reviews of every seat on every major airline, you can sit in the "better" seats in coach and avoid the worst.  Without fail, your YLIW always checks the site before picking my seats.  Trust me, your life will be better though I cannot guarantee that the middle seat will be taken by the physical equivalent of two people, if you know what I mean.  Happy travels!

How legit are our music collections nowadays (yeah, I said nowadays - like a boss) when we literally have weeks and weeks worth of digitally-purchased, or even "pirated" music sitting on our hard drives? It used to be that people scoured record stores, garage sales, and swap meets to find rare and out-of-print albums to bolster their collections. Now they can sit on their ass-hugging la-z-boys and click through iTunes and Pirate Bay, instead of developing blisters by flipping through dusty record (CD?) bins. What's more, is that we have the music; just not the sources. There's nothing tangible - no physical disc, album art, or liner notes. It feels slightly cheapened.

In the age of bit torrents and music blogs it's easy to forget that nostalgic feeling of tearing through the annoying shrink wrap and clever sticky security device along the top of a brand new compact disc. I, for one, miss that feeling. I miss the album art and liner notes, part of the art that goes into making a record. In some cases, it's every bit as important and attractive as the music itself. I still try to buy physical CDs as much as I can, but I'm as "guilty" as anyone for downloading - even legally. But one thing's for sure: if this was even five years ago, my iTunes stats would definitely not read "6951 items, 53.4 days, 39.49 GB." I guess my real question is... Is it worth sacrificing tangibility to have access to so much more music, so much more easily? Thoughts or additions to the comments, please.

http://oklahomacity.craigslist.org/fuo/1043028899.html

Surely someone was doubly reprimanded for this little number on page 32 of The Intention Experiment.

http://www.billboard.com/bbcom/news/iha-carlos-hanson-schlesinger-form-band-1003942166.story

"Excuse me gentlemen but what is all the hub-bub about?"

If you’ve ever poured your own beer, chances are you’ve also cleaned your own counter top shortly after. It’s okay. I’ve been over-zealous with my pour more times than I’d care to admit, inevitably resulting in a mess of carbonated goodness that I have to soak up with a towel and ring into my mouth (not really). But the secret to great head is easier to tap than you might think.

There are only a few basic rules to follow when you’re about to down some suds:
1) Start off with a clean, chilled glass (make sure there isn’t any detergent residue, lipstick, etc.).
2) Pop the cap off your favorite brew, also chilled.
3) Begin by holding the glass at a 45° angle and slowly pouring the beer so that it hits the side of the glass about an inch from the lip.
4) When it’s about 2/3 full, straighten out the glass and continue pouring the beer directly in the middle.
5) Enjoy your head-stache.

Your approach will vary with different beer types. A pilsner, for instance, will produce a lot of head with little effort while a stout will need a little more coaxing with a more aggressive pour. Adjust accordingly – you’re looking for a ½” to 1” head.

Here’s a little video for reference (sorry -- I cut it short before we got a good look at the head):

Gentleman, there are just a few vital rules we all must follow.

1. Do not wear white socks with black pants . . . ever!

2. Be sophisticated; do not end your sentences with a preposition.

3. Sweat pants worn outside the home are the equivalent of a white flag; they are a walking advertisement that you have ceased to give a shit.

4. Nowadays, the outmoded notions of chivalry are just tacky; be a man but be a bit of a feminist too.

5. Most importantly and in slight violation of #4, bros before hos.

If you need a remedial education in bros before hos (BBH), see the following musical presentation.  You'll laugh and learn something too.

-Your Local Internet Whore

So recently I noticed the fact that Sean Astin might be the actor of our times. I was moved to this by randomly, not on purpose, taking in several of his films over the past few weeks, and noticing the actual breadth of what our neurotic little Samwise Gamgee has done.

Let's take Goonies, this first example.



Sean Astin plays Mikey, an inhaler-wielding visionary, who is both fearless and always a bit overexcited. He seems more aware of the Gooines spot in the social ladder than some (Data seems clueless, but genius), but he also does not let that keep him down. He is consumed with the quest for One-Eyed Willy's gold, and knows how to surround himself with useful folks. His relentless optimism and drive inspired an entire generation, and it is hard to reach the end of the movie and not feel just a bit driven to spend some more time pursuing one's seemingly impossible, or childish, but ultimately real, and worthwhile, dreams.

Then there is Rascal Moore, from Memphis Belle.



This is Sean Astin as the still-to-come breakout role, whose spicy personality lends some noob quotes and innocence for us to remark at as the tragic and heroic are wrapped up in the historic bombing run captured in this film. His role as the thankless ball-turret gunner is a placement for all of us in a frightening and claustrophobic experience, and his quick wit and backtalking presage the smart ass he is to become in the following films.

Now let's go to Toy Soldiers.



This movie flew under a lot of a radars, though it is a decently wrought action film, and has Louis Gossett, Jr. in it. Here Astin plays Billy Tepper, another "reject" like a Goonie, but this time a spoiled kid at a private school who is always up to pranks, and is at loggerheads with the headmaster. Yet when terrorists take over the school for ransom, Tepper shows his smarts and bravery by concocting a pretty genius plan, using the avenues and secret passages he found as a delinquent. This presages Harry Potter doing the same thing by a couple of decades. This is Astin as his crassest (like hacking into a phone line for a 900 number), but also his most heroic, until Lord Of The Rings.

Of course, my favorite of the Astin films is the following:


This is the fun side of Astin, sort of like the Ocean's Eleven movies, where actors in normally more taxing roles just kind of have fun around one another. What else will you do with Pauly Shore at his apex? Just let the fun happen and be your normal, neurotic self, playing the square, while those around you show you how to party for real.

Of course, everyone's hero is still:



This is a surprise for those who had not known Astin since Goonies, but for folks who know Toy Soldiers, they are aware that Astin really does have acting chops, and can carry an underdog, or sidekick, into truly great territory. Often it is Astin as an opposing character, such as Dave in Encino Man or Samwise in LOTR, but this time it is Astin against Notre Dame football, a character in its own right, that needs to be overcome for the length of the film.

Finally, the full-circle character of Astin's, that cements him in the pantheon of great films and supporting actors:



The quality of the series helps every actor involved, even Elijah Wood induced skepticism until these films came out, and suddenly he is in a myriad art films like Everything Is Illuminated and Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind. Samwise is often the true hero in the whiny and even more neurotic Frodo's shadow. He is basically the one who triumphs over the ring's power at Mt. Doom, and is all along a stubborn and curious foil to the schemes of everyone around Frodo, including the Ring, and Gollum. Astin brings the innocent, boyish character here, as in all of his work, but he also imbues a sadness and melancholy that fit with the surprising darkness of the stories, wisely kept in the films.

So. I encourage everyone to head out and rent your favorite Astin film, and pay honor to the surprising film hero of our time.

As all of you are aware the Apple in-ears just didn’t cut it; I took ‘em back. How heartless of me. Fellow CarbonStater, Bryce, informed me that Guitar Center was selling the white Shure SCL 3’s for $60 this weekend. $60, aren't they regularly $140? $60??!!!! I had to acquire them.

These in-ears are exactly what I expected. They sound pretty good and block outside noise very well. This model only comes with a single driver so the bass is a little thin but overall they have a rich sound. Shure gives you 4 completely different earpiece styles so you are bound to find one that fits. 

Bottom line – if you need in-ears these are a great buy.

F**** My Life

Every so often movie-goers are treated to a performance so visceral and guttural you are unsure if you should celebrate the beauty or wince at the absolute desperation of what you’ve just seen.


Last year, Daniel Day Lewis’ staggering portrayal of Daniel Plainview in There Will be Blood, dragged viewers through the blackness of the oil business—leaving them perhaps uneasy with what they had seen, but certain of its brilliance.




A performance of that nature is hardly surprising from an actor of Day Lewis’ stature. The same cannot be said for this year’s victory, Mickey Rourke. If fact, there’s a good reason you are probably more familiar with his extracurricular activities than his body of work. Rourke is probably best known for his work in the 80’s, but he’s recently returned to Hollywood stardom with his performance of Marv in the Frank Miller hit Sin City.



Even still, critics would scarcely consider Rourke a dynamic actor. He’s been often typecast as a sort of hard ass, womanizing, drug abusing violence monger. Which makes him perfectly suitable for the role of Randy “The Ram” Robinson (his wrestling alter-ego). However, what may catch viewers off guard is the surprising tenderness of Robin Ramzinski (his real life name).


Director Darren Aronofsky and screenwriter Robert D. Siegel perfectly craft Ramzinski, juxtaposing his savage wrestler persona against his battered real life personality. As an aging former superstar, “The Ram”, performs for crowds which seem to only favor the novelty of his ex-victorious nature. He’s a broken down, beaten down version of his formerly Apollonic self. The abscessed aspect of the character is where Rourke makes his money in the film.


Though Ram is a character of many flaws—steroid abuser, family abandoner, drug abuser, etc.—you are drawn to look with favor upon him. At the heart, Aronofsky is weaving a tale about self absorption and perhaps the grave dangers of such self-destructive behaviors. Ram is obsessed with attention, whether positive or negative. Now in the waning days of his wrestling career, post a heart attack which has rendered him unable to boost or wrestle any longer, he no longer has an outlet to achieve the interest he once did. So he seeks to reconnect to his daughter, Stephanie. However noble his intentions, it becomes apparent they are marred by his obvious hamartia. His quest to be reunited with Stephanie is only an exercise in vainglory—he wants only to restore his self worth through a new form of attention. Simultaneously he is attempting to begin a relationship with his stripper friend Cassidy (stage name)… which ultimately operates as a manifestation of another attempt to gain self worth.


Aronofsky illustrates this point beautifully in a subtle manner when Ram is forced to take a full-time job behind a deli counter. After beautifully framing his first day with a “triumphant” march down the tunnel utilizing diegetic sound within the tunnel and fading into non-diegetic fan cheering, Ram arrives behind the counter a bit bamboozled by where he’s arrived. This isn’t the wrestling ring he’s marching to any longer; he’s a simple deli clerk now. After realizing the mundanity of his situation, Ram begins to adapt his bigger than life personality in the way he takes order and handles customers. Soon, however, his flair loses its mystique and he’s once again just another guy behind the counter. At this point, Ram does something drastic to once again win favor. (If you haven’t seen the film, ignore the rest of this paragraph.) Ram jams his thumb into the meat grinder causing copious amounts of blood loss, which he proceeds to smear upon his apron and face. He runs out of the grocery store screaming “I quit!” “I’m done!” Here Aronofsky most overtly expresses the Ram’s festering need for attention.


Rourke’s performance commands the type of attention and applause it is receiving. The film is quite excellent, largely because of the way he is able to manipulate the audience into believing he is perhaps a noble-hearted lost soul searching only for the people’s elbow… of appreciation.

The internet.  The world wide web.  The interwebs.  A series of tubes.

We all know the joys, the depths of depravity, the utter banality of so much of the internet. Why waste your time looking for that perfectly useful, sublime, or ridiculous website?  Trust your local internet whore (that's me) to separate the wheat from the chaff every week and find some of the best of the nets.

Back when "Armageddon It" was a highlight of a live show, performed by long-permed British rock gods, with big-haired women of the 1980s drooling over very average-looking men, one could expect the magic of the live concert to transcend all boundaries, classes, races, or even to save those in need. This sense of camaraderie created the Live Aid shows and all manner of good-hearted live music sharing. To go see a concert was a big freaking deal, and worthy of an all-day celebration.



Even recently, live music as a special, a seriously sacred time shared between performers and participating songwriters, where something that could only happen once happened, has been replaced by the ticketed party atmosphere with a band playing behind your stupid club dancing or pub-crawling. Jeff Tweedy sums it up in the most perfect way possible:



Yet this week marked a new low point for the recording music industry and the live music industry. Live Nation and Ticketmaster, two of the most corpulent concert ticketing and festival creating forces in the US have merged, pending antitrust approval.

While the purchase may or may not happen, it is a good time to look briefly at the way concerts are done anymore, and to guess at how the moment of musical transcendence that Jeff described above could survive, if it can.

Ticketmaster and/or Live Nation will, up to this point, only be involved if there is a semi-to hugely popular artist or tour involved. If you are going to your local arena, probably Ticketmaster. I even had to buy from them, with their ridiculously inflated and feed-up prices for a small theater show in Denver, of Jimmy Eat World. The world of paying 100 bucks or more to see Madonna or Miley Cyrus might not interact much with music lovers, but to pay for mid-size theater shows or even largeish events like the Foo Fighters or Death Cab For Cutie will put you in their claws.

However, you can keep your local theaters alive and thriving by buying from the box office, or supporting local ticketing online, and going to smaller shows from up-and-coming artists, keeping that level of touring alive and moving. Artists make most of their scratch from this kind of show, where merch is sold direct, and tickets are handled through a booking company or label. This helps immensely, and the concert-goer is a participant in the art, an executive producer, in these cases.

All over the US, independent venues promote quality music, from Cain's Ballroom in Tulsa, OK, to Studio B in Brooklyn, to the Metro in Chicago. Keep your support for these places intact.

And when you do go to a show, be mindful of the people around you. Be polite in crowded spaces, be quiet in quiet shows. If you want to do any of the following:

1. pick up a guy/girl
2. get faded
3. dance up on a guy/girl (dance bands excluded from this)
4. hear your favorite songs
5. hear another band's favorite songs
6. talk
7. play pool
8. play guitar hero

Go to Henry Hudson's or your local misspelled on purpose club named Spyce or something. Don't go to a concert.

Remember, the man doesn't own you, he just owns most of the music markets. Enjoy music.

Dustin

Amazon refreshed its Kindle ebook reader today by introducing the Kindle 2. It has more memory, it reads to you and its thinner than an iPhone. The $359 price tag seems a little steep but it does come with lifetime 3G connectivity for downloading books in less than 10 seconds (it claims). Here is a great hands-on from the fine folks at Engadget.

Interested in reading the cool, digital way but don't have the extra cheese to spare? iPhone users can download the free "Stanza" app from the App Store. It comes with access to several sites that tout free ebooks (free app and free ebooks - I like!). No Jesus Phone? Anyone with a computer (and soon to be mobile device) can get their fix with Google Books.

Personally, I prefer a good ‘ol fashion paperback…

Have some extra cash laying around? Well then head over to Uncrate, a "buyer's guide for men" that details 5 new products everyday. I dare you to buy everything.

Sources have confirmed with CarbonStated.com that 14-time Olympic Gold Medal winner Michael Phelps was diagnosed with “closed angle” glaucoma just days after his dramatic Olympic performance. Doctors say that Phelps’ memorable race when water poured into his goggles may have caused enough stress to the surface of his eye ball to induce intraocular pressure, a significant risk factor for glaucoma. The condition worsened over the next several days and Phelps was officially diagnosed after their final gold medal race. He refused medical treatment until that point, despite complaining of severe “[eye]ball pain.” Sources say Phelps was secretly disgusted at the near nonstop NBC love fest with his face and felt his “[eye]ball pain” would only worsen the situation.




Since the Olympics, Phelps has adopted a rigorous and methodical Cannabisian treatment, which includes up to and often over 8 oz. of marijuana a day. Naturally, Phelps’ Kobayashi-like appetite has increased ten fold. He now consumes twice that of which NBC depicted during the Summer Games.


Doctors have specifically prescribed “Acapulco gold” as Phelps’ herbal treatment. When evidence surfaced earlier this week of Phelps undergoing treatment on a medical device commonly known as a “bong,” rumors quickly shot around regarding Phelps’ recreational activities. Chaz Heckleman, a 22-year-old who attended the party, said Phelps was not “gratuitous in his usage” and clearly explained to all in attendance that this was “FOR [HIS] [EYE]BALLS!”


Phelps has identified his dealer as one, Dr. Markus B. Jassole.


Special Commentary


Does America really care if Michael Phelps smokes weed? I say no. Why?



Because it doesn’t matter if you like grass, if you can swim damn fast. It doesn’t matter if you toke, when you got a kick ass breast stroke. No one cares if you are blazing a blunt… if you are blazing a trail of Olympic history with it. No one cares if you are smoking a j, if you’re smoking the competition also. So you like to French inhale? Doesn’t matter as long as you keep making the French fail.


Fact is, in America, we honor winners. No one cared that Mike Tyson was crazy, until he started to suck. No one cared that Troy Aikman was gay, until he got 42 concussions. No one cared that Santonio Holmes dealt weed, and he was Super Bowl MVP. Everybody loves Barry Bonds, even though he’s a spousal abuser. Everyone think MJ’s the best, and he’s got a gambling problem. Hell, no one said anything about Magic using his HIV to beat Larry.


The world counts on winners. In America, all that matters is winning. Our former President is a prime example of this. Who cares how you got there… you won.

Frankly, I’m tired of the nonstop discussions concerning the legality, morality, technicality and mentality of this Olympic great. Mr. Phelps is a winner, America, leave him alone.

I am ashamed to admit this…there was a period in my life when I didn’t like female lead singers in bands. There, I said it.

Here is a list of bands/singer songwriters that made me change my mind:

Frou Frou – with soft vocal intricacies and swirling ethereal melodies, Imogen Heap & Guy Sigsworth had me at “hello”

Feist – I first heard her singing on a few tracks on a Kings of Convenience album. She has a smooth, breathy voice that’s can be as powerful as it is fragile…after I saw her live, I was hooked.

School of Seven Bells – moving, meaningful pop at its finest. The harmonies that the Deheza sisters create are other worldly.

Tegan and Sara - call it indie or not…another sister duo that produce A) great songs B) great melodies C) great production minded sensibilities. They are total musical package.

The Bird and The Bee – in the same vain as Frou Frou, singer Inara George teams up with a great producer and churns out hook laden songs full of texture and moodiness.

Gemma Hayes – I’m not even 100% sure how to pronounce her first name, but she could possibly go done as one of my all time favorites. You know where I found out about her? Right here on this very blog…imagine that…thanks Dustin!

wow...all my posts have lists.

The Welcome Wagon
Welcome To The Welcome Wagon
2009 Asthmatic Kitty



Music by couples can be immediately discarded by critics and listeners for its immediate preciousness, but this is based in some sort of macho or bohemian assumption that marriage or commitment is anathema to creative freedom, and posited by folks who probably don't know what kind of intense dynamic intense commitment is. If there is was ever a source of creative tension, there is one in relationship.


The Welcome Wagon is a husband and wife (Vito and Monique) pastor team in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, and though one cannot first find the tension located in their tunes, it turns out to be located in terms of spiritual tension, between what we assume to be the divide between heave and earth, often enhanced by spiritual music.

With the Welcome Wagon we find that tension erupting in the warm glow of these rooted in daily life and work tunes colliding with a sense of traditional hymn modes and provincial spiritual folk songs. The music is very innocent in its simplicity and happiness, and can tend to feel bubbly in the front half of the record a bit. This brightness is well balanced by the second half, where "I Am A Stranger" marks the albums strongest point, finding a strong, dark musical backing to a heavy story of finding the divine in the shattered earth's milieu. The manic guitar solos under the aching choir feels like a Southern dirge and moonshine-jam filling a Brooklyn meeting hall, full of fear and trembling, cascading into a chaos-jam under the words "everything's alright, yes, everything's alright..."

The album's production by Sufjan Stevens certainly feels akin to his own work at times, more than others ("Hail To The Lord's Anointed" could be a Seven Swans outtake, and that is a good thing), the record still develops a folky sense that sets it apart from the more chamber-worthy Glassisms of Sufjan's work. However, Vito's quiet tenor is a dead-ringer for Sufjan's (who sings at times also).

When much liturgical music is either aping U2 endlessly in energetic, but mega-hyped anthems, or retreating into lovely but inscrutable ancientness, The Welcome Wagon offer a pretty compelling branch of style, with well thought lyrics that do not speak down to a congregation's intelligence, but still enact a very humble interaction with the Holy, lacking pretense, and full of joy with sorrow, how the Gospel appears.

When Jobsey announced Apple’s upcoming In-Ear Headphones back in September it seemed like the stars had aligned. After months and months of dealing with adapters for my 1^st gen iPhone’s headphone jack, I was ready to part ways with the 3-inch chord adapter thorn in my side.  There had already been several options available such as V-Moda’s Vibes and Ultimate Ears 4vi’s which came with a mic and a button to answer/end calls, but none seemed to tickle my fancy. Apple had attempted once to make in-ears, but failed miserably. They couldn’t screw up twice could they? After all, they aren’t Microsoft…

These babies were supposed to ship at the end of October ’08 and actually not suck (paraphrasing).  Long story short, they were delayed until December and I finally picked them up in January. I’ve had some time to listen to varying genres of music with them…here are my thoughts...

Fit – I can’t get these damn things to stay snug! A tight seal is the key to good in-ears, it helps round out the low end response and blocks outside noise. After messing with them for about 5 minutes I got the best fit I could…as long as I didn’t turn my head. One review I read for these asked if Apple designed thm for motionless use.

Sound – they actually sound pretty good. Low end is of course a bit weak but mids are smooth and highs are crisp (not shrill). If you listen to hip-hop, rap, etc. you will be very disappointed.

Design – The chord is made out of a different material than traditional iPod headphones. The result is a tangle free wearing (or pocket) experience.  One big plus - the chord isn’t a mile long. For whatever reason, other in-ear makers must think people want to listen to music in one room and leave their iPod in the other.

Overall – an in-ear that doesn’t fit is no friend of mine. For $80 I don’t expect the world but I do expect a good fit and decent low end. These didn’t have either. Three days after purchasing I returned them to the Apple Store.

Maybe I will get the Grados after all…

We here at Carbon Stated would be remiss if we neglected to mention the universally decreed best sports event of the year. That's right, it's Super Bowl time. Here's 10 essentials to ensuring you will be the smartest guy at your Super Bowl party.



1) Become fluent with each team's roster.

Sure, any old joe can name Ben Roethlisberger and Kurt Warner. But you can stop the party by dropping your knowledge of Karlos Dansby and Chike Okeafor. Claim they were underrated all year and really deserved Pro Bowl spots. Everyone will surely think you are "in the know."

2) Study some wikipedia pages.

Be the cool guy that can drop the little known nugget that Larry Fitz was a ball boy for the Minnesota Vikings. You'll turn some heads.

3) Research rumored commercials

You'll win early favor by mentioning a commercial you have "read all about". When it's a hit, you're in the money. If it's a dud, mention how they really f'd the end game.

4) Memorize the last 7 Super Bowl winners

Inevitably this question will arise at some point in the evening. If you can be the handy football encyclopedia with victors, losers and a true sensei with scores, people will defer to you for the rest of the evening.

5) Hindsight is 20/20

After the game, declare the winner to be the team you called after pre-season week 1. Some grandiose embellishment may be involved.

6) Arm chair coach

Always second guess bad coaching moves with your expert suggestions. If you are lucky enough for those things to work later in the game, you are on your way to Super Bowl party stardom.

7) Beat the announcers to the punch

Go for generic statements that the announcers are likely to make... just moments before they do. When the announcer mutters similar words, you'll be lauded for being ahead of them and people will speculate of your chances to be a top flight NFL announcer.

8) Make fun of John Madden

Frankly, no one likes John Madden. The more you make fun, the bigger hit you will be. (Warning: Try not to return to the well too often. Repeated jokes are still bad jokes.)

9) Propose wild future hypotheticals.

These always garner discussion. "Big Ben: Most clutch QB ever?" "Warner: Best story ever?" "Larry Fitz: Better than Jerry Rice?" "Edgerrin James: NFL MVP next season?"

10) Make your friends rewind to something you "saw".


Finally, this is kind of your ace in the hole. Pay attention to aspects of the game other normally wouldn't. Like the offensive line. When you see a huge play, take notice of a holding. At the opportune time, drop this on those involved and you will be an instant success. For the next 20 years people will remember how the Cardinals should have had 7 fewer points because there was a blatant missed holding call on Levi Brown at the bottom of the screen that allowed Warner just enough time to throw it up to Larry FitzBoldin.


There you have it. You will either a) Be the Super Bowl party hit, or b) Be that jack ass that never gets invited back again. Check in next year and let us know..

Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog