You know it’s that time of year, so I’ll take a couple of minutes of your time to reflect back on Billy Watson’s 2008, and mention some of my very favorite things that went down.

For me, 2008 was kinda weird, kinda whacky, kinda sad, kinda happy, kinda funny, kinda profitable, and certainly a learning experience.

To which I say, ain’t life grand?!

And can you believe Aught 9 is here?

How does time work again? Wasn’t it just 1999? Wasn’t everyone just shitting their pants about Y2K? I wasn’t…really, I wasn’t. I’m no Rocket Scientist, but it didn’t take too much to figure out the world wasn’t coming to an end just cause we were rolling over our odometer.

It won’t in 2012, either, even though The Aztecs said so…but that’s another blog.

So, in no particular order, I’d like to relive some of my very favorite moments of 2008, just cause I’m sure you’re wondering — with excitement — about what I have to say.

Oh, and since I originally posted this blog, I’ve added stuff I forgot about when I originally wrote it…so once you’ve read it, you might want to come back and see what I’ve added!

Left of the Dial — Dispatches from the 80’s Underground: It didn’t come out this year, but I bought it this year. I thought about buying this 4 CD box set hot off the press, but since I lived it all when it came out, I held off, which was kinda silly, cause damn! I forgot how much I loved all these songs, and all these bands, too! Hoodoo Gurus! The Lyres! Green on Red! The Feelies! The Dead Milkmen!

Little Steven’s Underground Garage on Sirius Radio: I got Sirius the year before Stern left terrestrial radio for satellite, and I found this gem of a station right away. I haven’t turned it off since. Well, I turn it off from time to time to listen to Stern, and I turn it off when I get out of my car, but that’s about it, really. I just got out of my car, too, just after hearing Foghat belt out “Free ride! Take it easy!” And the DJ’s! Handsome Dick Manitoba. Kid Leo. Kim Fowley. And Little Steven, too. Like the ad says — they play the coolest records ever, whether they’re 50 years old or 50 minutes old.

Andi Anderson’s butt hole: Not really. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I love Andi’s butt hole. What else would you expect a perverted blogger and/or pornographer to say? But seriously…I like Andi more. I mean as a person I like Andi more. Especially when she’s blowing me in my car after our dinner dates. Not really. But what else would you expect from me? How much I enjoy our meaningful conversations? (Which they are). How much we enjoy time spent together? (Which we do). Or how I love to blow loads up her butt and down her throat every chance I get? (Which I do). Oh, and I don’t even like anal sex.

Really. I don’t.

Muntadhar al Zaidi: I’m still all about the Iraqi journalist who whipped both his shoes at our Lame Duck President. Bravo, Muntadhar, my new friend!

Synecdoche, New York: I’m pretty sure it’s disappeared from the theaters now, but when it hits cable, watch it. And don’t expect to watch it just once…especially if you really want to get what’s going on. Shit, I still don’t get what was going on, exactly. But I think I have an idea. I’ll just need to watch it one more time.

Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks show at The Hollywood Bowl: I’ve already gushed about Van, and Astral Weeks, and sitting in the VIP seats at the show. But I’ll say it again: I love Van Morrison, and I think Astral Weeks is one of the greatest records ever made (even Lester Bangs concurs with me there), and I didn’t mind one bit shelling out $350 bucks to sit within spitting distance of him while he played those two sets. The first set had gems like “Gloria” and “Brown-Eyed Girl” in it, while the second set was Astral Weeks — in its entirety.

The Democratic Party: Remember when that dolt Ann Coulter claimed the Democratic Party was “going the way of The Whigs”? And don’t ya just love Bill O and Hannity and Fox and the Most Evil Vice President In The History of The US? Well, here’s what I have to say — Bravo to the Pansies and Pussies who make up the Party that’s about to take Control. No more Mr. (and Ms.) Niceguy (gal) for them! Bravo to Hillary and Joe. Bravo, Barak! Nice job to every single last one of you. Now just do us all a favor and pull us out of The Mess the motherfucking GOP has dug us in to.

Adrianna Nicole: Cause I dunno what I’d do without her friendship.

Patton Oswalt and Friends at the Largo at The Coronet: Last June I was lucky enough to catch my very favorite comedian — Patton Oswalt — at The Largo. What a club! What a show!! His friends (who weren’t listed on the bill) included Flight of the Conchords, Margaret Cho, and Michael Penn…among others. I got a front row seat, too!

Cumbang!: Hands down my very favorite site of the year. It was a blast to shoot, too. Um..pardon the pun. I mean who doesn’t love a bunch of silly rednecks, bukakke, and a beautiful black girl whose black boyfriend cheated on her with a snow bunny? (Did you get all that?)

Like I said before: 2008 was weird and whacky and sad and happy and funny…probably just like yours.

T. Monk’s advice (1960)
1. Just because you’re not a drummer, doesn’t mean that you don’t have to keep time.

2. Pat your foot + sing the melody in your head when you play.

3. Stop playing all that bullshit / weird notes, play the melody.

4. Make the drummer sound good.

5. Discrimination is important.

6. You’ve got to dig it to dig it, you dig?

7. All reet!

8. Always know…(Monk)

9. It must be always night, otherwise they wouldn’t need the lights.

10. Let’s lift the band stand!!!

11. I want to avoid the hecklers.

12. Don’t play the piano part, I’m playing that. Don’t listen to me, I’m accompanying you.

13. The inside of the tune (the bridge) is the part that makes the outside sound good.

14. Don’t play everything (or every time); let some things go by. Some music just imagined. What you don’t play can be more important that what you do.

15. Always leave them wanting more.

16. A note can be small as a pin, or big as the world. It all depends on your imagination.

17. Stay in shape! Sometimes a musician waits for a gig, + when it comes, he’s out of shape + can’t make it.

18. When you’re swinging, swing some more! (What should we wear tonight? Sharp as possible!)

19. Don’t sound anybody for a gig, just be on the scene.

20. These pieces were written so as to have something to play, + to get cats interested enough to come to rehearsal.

21. You’ve got it! If you don’t want to play, tell a joke or dance, but in any case, you got it! (To a drummer who didn’t want to solo).

22. Whatever you think can’t be done, somebody will come along and do it. A genius is the one most like himself.

23. They tried to get me to hate white people, but someone would always come along + spoil it.

Synecdoche: syn⋅ec⋅do⋅che. Pronunciation [si-nek-duh-kee] –noun Rhetoric. A figure of speech in which a part is used for the whole (as hand for sailor), the whole for a part (as the law for police officer), the specific for the general (as cutthroat for assassin), the general for the specific (as thief for pickpocket), or the material for the thing made from it (as steel for sword).

I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again: funny how time works. One day it’s the 14th of November, and then you wake up and it’s the 20th, and I think — where did all that time go?

One day I wake up and I’m 24…and the next day I wake up and I’m 44, and I think — where did all that time go?

I haven’t blogged since the 20th, when I found out Mitch Mitchell died, and here it is, almost a week later, and I’ve got nothing much to say.

And those days passed like moments…

Oh sure, I could write about kooky porn girls and the even kookier porn dudes. I could write about Manojobs and glory holes and dick suckers, but you’re already familiar with that territory.

Or, I could talk about the great film I saw, so here goes:

I shelled out 11 clams (well, $22, cause I paid for my pal’s ticket) to see Charlie Kaufman’s Synecdoche, New York. He’s the dude who wrote Being John Malkovich and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind — both of which I liked.

Here’s the funny part — by the middle of it, I thought Synecdoche, New York was a dog turd, and I was about to totally start hating on it, and I looked over at my friend and gave her the “If This Doesn’t Get Any Better In About 3 Minutes I’m Asking For My Money Back” eye…and then, sure enough, BAM.

The first time ever for such a 180 degree turn right in the middle of a flick.

How about that?

I’m serious — I was about to get up and walk out, but I gave Charlie Kaufman a few more minutes, and I’m really glad I did, cause by the end of that movie I was totally blown away.

If you decide to take Kaufman’s challenge — cause this is a dense, complex, surreal film where plot and linear time movement aren’t tops on Kaufman’s list of rules to adhere to — you’ll be super happy you did.

Or, you won’t get it, and you’ll disregard any future film advice I have for you…and that’s that.

Oh, by the way, Phillip Seymour Hoffman plays a hypochondriac playwright who’s married to a woman who paints miniature portraits. He wins a MacArthur genius grant about the same time his wife becomes recognized by the art world. She leaves him and takes their child to Berlin, Germany, where she becomes internationally famous, and he takes his grant money and begins work on his masterpiece.

And that’s when all the fun begins.