Before I saw them last night, I had this vague idea that Acid Mother's Temple was sort of a pastoral avant-folk band. So I was pretty surprised to learn that they are heavy as fuck, like Sabbath times Spacemen 3 to the power of a whole bunch of weird psychedelic bands I've never heard. I liked them the best when they weren't doing rhythmless, formless freakouts, which was roughly two thirds of the time. When they ride a riff into the ground hypnotically for ten minutes, building and building on it, they're unstoppable. At least half the band looks like Japanese versions of Jim Martin, the weird-looking guy in Faith No More who used to wear those giant red glasses. They were all, of course, very visibly baked, and I probably would've enjoyed the show a lot more if I'd followed their example. But if you have even the slightest interest in what I can only lamely describe as free-jazz metal, their show is a sight to behold.

Remember a while back when I said something about the McSweeneys comic issue and how weird it seemed that all the comic writers are convinced that no one takes their work seriously? Well, I figured it out! Comic writers are a bunch of sad, insecure dudes! I finished reading the book, and something like one of every three comics was some autobiographical thing about how sad the writer is and how no one will ever love or understand him and how his life is a complete pile of shit. Hey comic writers! I'm a busy man! I'm not trying to read that shit! If you don't like being a sad sack, stop being a sad sack; don't draw shitty comics about how sad you are and then expect me to read them. There is some amazing work in the McSweeneys comic issue (I especially like the art with clean, precise lines and storylines about people who are not the writer - Chris Ware, Adrien Tomine, and Daniel Clowes have some great stuff in here, even if the Tomine thing is just an excerpt from the Optic Nerve he just put out). But wow, you need to wade through some lame-ass shit to get to the good stuff.