Comedy duo Randy and Jason Sklar don't have a problem standing out in a crowd — they are, after all, identical twins. But the Sklars have carved out a niche for themselves, one that goes beyond their at-times-frighteningly omni-minded delivery: turning the wide world of sports into comedy gold. The brothers first gained notoriety with Cheap Seats, the late night ESPN Classic show that found them ripping into spelling bees and bass-fishing competitions with a steady stream of awesome one-liners. Their new project, the fantastically funny web series Back On Topps, tackles another aspect of sports fandom: baseball cards. As Layland and Leif Topps, heirs to the Topps fortune, the Sklars are charged with saving their jobs after their uncle sells them out and new management takes over. Think The Office meets Will Ferrell's "Funny or Die," and you've got a good picture of Back on Topps.

"I think we have, in general, a memory for very small things," says Randy. "Like there was a time when I could literally, at any moment, do for you the entire 'jive' scene from Airplane. And that's just knowledge that no person should have in their minds. Movie lines, lyrics to songs, stuff about baseball cards, even down to facts about our friends — we remember."

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All hail the mighty Built to Spill, the world's most beloved purveyors of spaced-out cock rock. Too obscure to be famous and too famous to be obscure, Built to Spill are to connoisseurs of psychedelic mood music what an untapped case of Mad Dog 20/20 is to winos — a cache of treasures to be savored all night long.

"I can't get that sound you made out of my head." So goes the opening line of the opening song of Built to Spill's thoroughly genius Perfect From Now On — and if you're a fan, it's an apt statement. I was on hand to see them perform that album, the band’s 1997 major label debut, in its entirety at Terminal 5 in New York City last Thursday. And boy is my face melted.

With yesterday's alt-rock heroes Dinosaur Jr. and the Meat Puppets as openers, the bill was stacked with '90s-era comfort food. The entire evening could be seen as a testament to survival — the Meat Puppets survived drug addiction, gun shot wounds and prison to be here, Dinosaur Jr. survived retirement and Built to Spill have simply survived, by meeting and exceeding all expectations placed upon them by their zealous fans.

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I was super-excited to see the Breeders play live last week at Webster Hall in New York City — but clearly not as excited as the guy behind me. I'm pretty sure he was the President of the Breeders Fan Club (of which I'm only a member), based on the unbridled exuberance and near-orgasmic joy with which he greeted every song. Ordinarily, I'd applaud his enthusiasm. But here's the rub: dude was singing along — loudly — to every song. And not just the lyrics — our Breeders-loving hero sang along to the guitar parts too. As if he hadn't already proven his loyalty by knowing the words to songs by Kim Deal's side project, the Amps.

We all know the concert-going stereotypes: jaded hipsters who won't move a muscle versus overenthusiastic fan boys who spill their adoration and beer all over you. Lame-ass scenesters who talk through the whole show, how do you sleep at night?

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Sometimes I forget just how badly the Bush Administration has fucked things up for the rest of us.

During their reign, the worst stereotypes about America have been realized and amplified. And, what's worse, every transgression they've made has been done right under our noses, taking full advantage of the fact that, given a choice between action and non-action, we as a society choose non-action every time. The reason they were able to get over on us like they did was they acted like it was completely normal, and the media did the same. The fact that they've tried to repeal our civil liberties under something named "The Patriot Act" is just a brazen, in your-face "fuck you" to our nation’s values and common sense. These are the thoughts I had while watching the first few minutes of Southland Tales, Richard Kelly's much-maligned, allegorical, apocalyptic sci-fi brainteaser, now out on DVD.

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I admit it: I watch entirely too much TV. At least I don't watch stuff like The Hills (not that there's anything wrong with that), American Idol, America's Top Model or anything involving Rachael Ray. My tastes run more towards the esoteric side; I can get sucked into shows like Bizarre Foods with Andrew Zimmern, Destination Truth, Survivorman, the entire "Adult Swim" oeuvre, and before I know it, there goes my entire evening.

Stephen Colbert is a god to me. Jon Stewart, not so much. But lately, the show that's been cracking me up the most is something called Cheap Seats.

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As a fact checker at Rolling Stone, I have an enviable position — nothing gets printed unless I say it's okay! As you can imagine, fact checking is a high-stress job. If Ashlee Simpson's name is misspelled in the magazine, it's my head that's on the chopping block (not unlike Ashlee's nose was in 2007. No wait, 2006. Yes, I'm sure of it.). Up until recently, I dealt with the pressure in part by sucking down cigarettes. This meant frequent trips outside, which meant less time at my desk checking facts. Not good. (I missed out on the days when those in the journalistic profession could smoke at their desks — a blessing and a curse.)

But this year I resolved to quit smoking. After a few false starts, spread out over a few months, I've been able to remain cigarette-free for thirty days. Hooray for me. How did I do it? Two things got me to where I need to be: Allen Carr's The Easy Way To Quit Smoking and Wolfgang's Vault.

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