Let's kick off these proceedings on a positive note. Our good pals in Candidate have arranged for their masterful Tiger Flies collection to be available in all Virgins across America. Seeing how we told you months ago just how truly special this album is -- lush and inventive folkadelica that's beautiful, bittersweet and out-and-out brilliant, etc., etc. -- we'll assume you've all ordered copies from the fine folks at action-records.co.uk. Now you should tell a friend to get thee to the local Megastore and buy one for their own selves. Those of you who've played out your copies of Yankee Hotel Foxtrot are well advised to do the same.

Now back to our regularly scheduled bullshit: R. Kelly's lawyers convinced him to remove the parenthetical from the title of his new single. It was supposed to be called "Heaven, I Need a Hug (Is Jon Benet Ramsey Around?)."

As if the Adam Sandler/Winona Ryder remake of Mr. Deeds Goes to Town wasn't abhorrent enough, there's a truly dreadful Dave Matthews Band track as the theme song. Fucking hell, we'd sooner see Lilo and Friggin' Stitch.

Anybody else think Mike Piazza and Alf do weird stuff to each other? Does that make them queer? Apparently so . . . Have we mentioned that Candidate cover Liz Phair's "Divorce Song" on their new Hawaiian Police EP? C'mon, that's just plain cool.

Albert Hammond Jr. and Daisy Barrymore? Sheesh! Can't those guys find celebrity groupies their own age? Or at least ones that haven't been passed around by three previous generations of bands?

A bottle of red. A bottle of white. Hey, why not both? Yeeeeaaaah!

Y'know, it really doesn't matter what new Oasis record sounds like as long as Noel and/or Liam do tons of press . . . We don't much rate Queens of the Stone Age (they're no Kyuss), but we'll take Grohl playing drums again over new songs by the Foo Fighters any day. Win-win for everybody!

Incidentally, we're holding out for Jimmy Fallon in You Can't Take It With You.

Maybe that should read: A bottle of reds. A line of white. Guess we'll find out when Billy does the inevitable "weep weep, I have demons" interview. Diane Sawyer is wet with anticipation.

There's a new live Fall record, 2 G + 2, recorded in part on the 2001 U.S. tour. We bet the spoken word parts are a hoot . . . Gotta feel sorry for all the White Stripes fans who have just discovered Billy Childish and crave the back catalogue. They'll need at least two after-school jobs!

Changed our mind about the World Cup -- what's not to like about a tournament where Thighpaulsandra suits up for seven different teams? Apparently "President" Bush's interest in the U.S. match with Mexico was the same as his interest in domestic policy -- he slept right through it . . . Potential Glastonbury attendees are upset the festival won't be showing the final on a big screen. We presume this is because they need some form of entertainment to keep them busy during Starsailor's set.

Apropos of nothing, but a great writer once noted that Diane Sawyer has a flat ass . . . Brett Ratner says Red Dragon is not a remake of Manhunter. We say Brett Ratner is not fit to clean Michael Mann's toilets. Which are probably chrome of some kind. . . If a smoothie is ninety-six percent juice, what's the other four percent?

Making movies writing songs and fighting 'round the world!

Have we mentioned how much Well Hung at Dawn has always loved FHM? Top publication. . . OK, so we're trying to suck up to the new boss. But really, if he had anything to do with the U.K. edition's Louise and Sophie from the Audience pictorials, we really have been fans for quite some time.

Congratulations to Roger Neilson on his induction into the Hockey Hall of Fame. Since he can't pick between the many different teams he coached, we suggest he be inducted with a bag over his head . . . How nice that "The President" has Iran-Contra vet John Poindexter on his anti-terrorism team. Takes one to know one, apparently . . . Widespread Panic make Phish sound like the Grateful Dead. And look like Ricky Martin!

Fruit! The other four percent must be fruit!

More of the stellar innovation that makes Sopranos creator David Chase so smart, at least in his own mind: Firing Fairuza Balk, which is bad enough, then re-shooting her scenes from last season to insert into reruns and the DVDs. Sadly, we suspect Season Four will be on par with Season Two. Not that we care -- we'll be watching Angel.

We here at Well Hung at Dawn proudly support Lance Storm's righteous campaign against anti-Canadian prejudice. Really, there can be no other explanation for the continuing burial of Christian, Chris Jericho and Storm himself. Go Team Canada Go! Oh, and as much as we're loathe to ever agree with Peter Jennings, that vile Toby Keith tune makes us ever-so-proud of our honorary Canadian citizenships.

Ninety-three percent of all shark attacks are against males. Know why? Sharks like dick . . . And speaking of dick, do all hotel pay movie services have gay porn now, or just those trendy Ws? And speaking of trendy Ws, Andrew W.K. is the new Gary Glitter. Hey, anything that cuts down on Damon's "Song 2" royalties is OK by us.

Beans. Cheese. Two great tastes that taste great together.

This week in the Well Hung at Dawn Book Club: This Little Ziggy by the ever-hilarious, ever-wise Martin Newell. His terrific new album, Radio Autumn Attic, makes for the perfect aural accompaniment.

Let's welcome the Amarillo Gorillas and the San Antonio Rampage to the world of Texas hockey. We can't believe both teams passed on Puckaroos.

OK, so we lied -- Michael is not the father of Elizabeth Hurley's child, but he did once sleep with Kirk Kerkorian's ex-wife's daughter.

Mmmmmm . . . aural.

Explain this one to us: The San Fernando Valley is going to secede and become part of Staten Island? BTW, that Sopranos item should not be taken in any way as a slag against Lola Glaudini, whom we've loved for a long, long time. Her dad's cool too.

Required reading if you want to get our more political material: mediawhoresonline.com and buzzflash.com. Unless you'd prefer to know only what the Corporation Man wants you to know, in which case, just stick to the New York Times.

According to Entertainment Weekly, those Buddyheads are "It." Nuff said. In the biggest way.

Heads-up for Jade Anderson, daughter of Jon. She's hotter than Norah Jones, and we always preferred "Roundabout" to "Raga Ramkali" anyway . . . That Nivea is attractive enough we suppose, but when it comes to jerk-off material, we still prefer the other one. . . This bluegrass-is-the-new-electronica deal has turned out pretty good for Dolly Parton, eh? Her rack is still OK as well. How much do you suppose that underwire weighs?

That little baldheaded twat Moby has announced a "no-commercials" policy for 18. He is, however, trading out a couple of songs to nyexotics.com . . . Oops, we almost forgot: Tenacious D still suck moosecock.

Finally, the Dublin Development Authority is bulldozing the studio where U2 made All That You Can't Leave Behind. Now that's what we call rock criticism!

E-mail: sqwubbsy@aol.com

JASON COHEN and MICHAEL KRUGMAN
(June 24, 2002)

[Editor's note: The above opinions are those of Cohen and Krugman and not necessarily of Rolling Stone -- or Moby.]