- Sitting at my parents' house in the dark and quiet because, once again, they've gone to sleep and I stay up later than them - Thinking about how if I were home, I'd be out with friends right now instead of sitting at the computer in the middle of nowhere - Cursing their stupid cable system (which has less than half the number of channels mine does) and the fact that they don't get any movie channels, and thinking that if I were home, I could be watching, oh, say, Skinemax right now - Raiding the fridge after-hours Is it just me, or does this scenario feel like I've full-on regressed to my college years again?

So, thanks to the magic of Starbucks and the fine makers of Mountain Dew, I find myself once again in Arizona, a state where -- even in the middle of the night -- the temperatures reach over 100 degrees. Tell me again why I participate in this organized masochism? Oh right... I'm the dutiful son who visits his parents. I've come to the unfortunate conclusion that a good portion of the state of Arizona -- namely anything outside of the metro areas -- smells like manure. I swear, the entire way here, I kept getting the faint whiff of manure through the car vent. And it wasn't that I stepped in it somewhere or that I ran over it and it was sticking to my tire, because I checked my shoes and I could also smell it when I got out of the car and walked far, far away to go into the convenience store or the gas station. The air in the state just... smells like manure. And now, to sleep, perchance to dream... but not about manure. Or that dream where I see myself standing in sort of sun-god robes on a pyramid with a thousand naked women screaming and throwing little pickles at me.

By the way, if you've come here thinking, "Well, Keith surely watched the MTV Video Music Awards since he's so into music, and he more than likely has something to say about them," sorry to disappoint. I didn't watch them. I hate MTV. MTV has done everything it can to not play videos and destroy music as we know it. I'm sick of their hipper-than-thou attitude (especially you, metal-hand-gesture-waving Iannnnnnnnn "Salutations!" Robinson, there's a special place in Hell for you where all they play are the Backstreet Boys 24/7), I'm sick of them airing videos that show violence and sex and then turning around and saying that a video like the one for the Foo Fighters' "Low" is "too racy" for them (oh, please! Even though Jack Black and Dave Grohl are wearing dresses, they're still a lot more clothed than Christina Aguilera is in any of her videos... are you guys homophobic?), and I'm tired of battling all these little young punks who eat up MTV like it's the gospel. I think the rallying cry of my generation will be, "I remember when MTV played videos -- good ones -- and not just from 2-6am. They played them all the time." Now it's all self-congratulatory award shows for videos they barely even played because they don't play videos anymore, 16,000 Real World and Road Rules reruns every day, Cribs and that gawdawful Ashton Kutcher with his gawdawful Punk'd that everyone is saying is so wonderful (and I don't get that either -- the guy pulls off mean Candid Camera pranks on his celebrity friends that he probably didn't even come up with, and suddenly he's the hero?). For those of you who are still interested in seeing/hearing music on your music television, please check out Fuse. They rock, even if they do play Simple Plan a little too much.

Forget, for a moment, the stress at work and the fact that I haven't slept much in the last few days, which has put interesting strains on my personality. Forget that my father will actively spend much of this upcoming weekend detailing the different ways of which I'm not living my life correctly. Forget the deadlines, the errands that are left unattended, the sheer stupidity of the state and federal governments which rule my life, and remember only this moment. Despite the sadness of the situation (that being that my boss of a year and a half, the man who had enough faith in me to offer me a job where I'm now working, is leaving the company), I am now the proud owner of a framed and certified limited-edition one-sheet lithograph of The Matrix, signed by Larry and Andy Wachowski. My boss gave it to me today, saying that he didn't have room in his new apartment in New York for it and knew how much I loved the film, so he wanted to leave it with me. Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaatrix... [insert Homer Simpson drooling noise]

Seeing a kickass new artist showcase with important radio and record label people: $5 in valet parking Open bar at aforementioned new artist showcase: $3 in tips Being introduced to aforementioned important radio and record label people as "this is Keith, my evil minion": Priceless

SAT scores are on the rise and are the highest they've been in 16 years. Woo f'n' hoo. Pardon me if I'm a little cynical about this whole deal, because it's my firm belief that Americans are dumber than ever. The public school systems are failing all over the place -- here in Los Angeles, it's pretty much worthless to send your kids to a public school, you need to send them to a private school to give them a decent education. And it shows -- though perhaps my sensitivity to it is a little higher because I'm a copyeditor, but do kids today know the difference between they're/their/there or you're/your or to/too/two and when to use each variation? Evidence highly suggests that they don't. Hell, I've seen spelling mistakes on TV, like in the chyrons on the news and on the news tickers running on Fox News & CNN & MSNBC, and I'm pretty sure kids aren't running those machines. When kids today can't form a coherent or grammatically correct sentence, that's a problem. And hey, has anyone thought that maybe the SAT scores are going up just because the tests are getting easier because the scores were going down and the company that runs the test was pressured to make us look good? Math scores are on their way up, too, and the College Board says that it's due to "increased participation in advanced math and science courses such as physics, precalculus, calculus and chemistry." On the other hand, the president of the National Council of Teachers of Mathematics "credited teaching methods that include more real-life applications, saying students are 'looking at problems that don't just involve pure calculation and computation-type of mathematics.'" Quite frankly, I took all those classes, and I really can't see any kind of real-life applications of physics, calculus and chemistry on a daily basis, because I'm not a chemist or a physicist or a mathematician. When I'm out and about, I'm not asking myself what's going to happen to the pH balance of something should I add the acidic orange juice to it, nor do I have to compute a geometric proof -- to this day, I still don't know why we spent two months on that in geometry class, because proofs are damned useless. I need basic math and English skills. I need to know how to balance my checkbook, I need to know how to form a sentence so people will know what I'm talking about, I need to know how to spell so my news stories won't be taken with a grain of salt because I can't spell something correctly. And in that way, I think the school systems are failing utterly, and I think that all these new-fangled toys that the educators are touting as helping kids are actually hindering them. It's great that we've got spell-check to make our lives easier, but do you actually learn how to spell a word if the computer corrects it for you all the time? Do you learn the difference between you're and your if the computer just puts a green line under the sentence in Word but you don't click on it to see what you're doing wrong because you think you're right? I'm not saying I'm the smartest person around -- I've definitely got a lot to learn, and I'm not perfect myself. But the government takes my hard-earned money to help fund our school systems, and I'd like to see a return on my investment, because if American kids had a stock price, as a whole it would've plummeted through the basement by now.

I wanna be a cowboy. And you can be my cowgirl. That is all. Please resume your normal activities. Thank you.

I'd like to let everyone know that I am trademarking the number zero in all its forms -- both 0 and "zero." So anytime you or anyone uses that number, you owe me money. I expect royalty checks to start rolling in pretty quickly, people! By the way, in case you doubt my intentions to rule the world, check this out. Everything I need to become Demon Overlord is available in one easy-to-use website!

I go to the gym because I need to go to the gym. Not because I want to be seen or I have a body to show off... no, I am firmly not in the Beautiful People category and I know it. That's why I dress the part -- baggy t-shirt, almost knee-length loose shorts -- because no one needs to see my "extra insulation." Which makes me wonder what school of taste some people went to. I'm a firm believer in the axiom of "Spandex: It's a privilege, not a right." I don't wear it because I don't deserve to. Like the woman I saw at the gym yesterday. Someone needed to tell her to go put a shirt on. I'm sorry, but when you're wearing a sports bra and your rolls of fat -- yes, multiple rolls, she looked like Dr. Zoidberg from Futurama when he takes his shell off and you can see the rolls of his skin -- are bigger than your breasts (and more bouncy as well), that's something that could make a man want to go home. Put a shirt on. It's not that hard. The rest of us did it. Even the rail-thin women all had shirts on. And I'm not saying that because I'm a fat-ist or anything, because I'm certainly not the thinnest guy around -- I'm just saying that people should know the boundaries of taste and account for their own situations. I was so upset and put off by that sight yesterday that I forgot to post my Sunday Most Listened-to Song o' the Week. So here's the rockin' tune, albeit a day late... Year of the Rabbit - "Rabbit Hole" I fell asleep about year ago I'm dreamin' now with the coma fools I hit my head on the rabbit hole Long way down Is this the dream that I always have Cold sweats with some cocktail jazz I never thought I could hit this high Long way down She said it doesn't have to feel this way Sit down, boy, 'Cause you don't have to go 'Cause can get high again Yeah, we can get high, yeah We can get high again We can just fly I felt a twitch a couple months ago I'm floatin' now in a tear duct pool I ripped my shirt on a blow torch vent Long way down Always up to no good Always sad When you're in the forest Don't look back She said it doesn't have to feel this way Sit down, boy, 'Cause you don't have to go 'Cause we can get high again Yeah, we can get high, yeah We can get high again We can get high, yeah We can get high again Yeah, we can get high, yeah We can get high...

In the course of only a few hours today, I drove a Hummer through an obstacle course, floored the pedal on a Corvette to make it take off down a straightaway and ran a Chevy Avalanche and a Cadillac Escalade around a test track. I am all that is man! UPDATE: To cap it all off, I just saw Julia Roberts sitting at a table in Coffee Bean. Oh yes, it's been a good day.

So, one of my co-workers who is older and wiser and waaaaaay more experienced than I am in the field of radio has decided that he wants to teach me all about how to run a radio station so eventually, like a few years down the line when I've absorbed everything I can from him, I can go out and set the world on fire with a kickass station. This I have absolutely no problems with. His teachings are actually very enlightening and can help me understand the industry a lot better even now. The problem is, my co-worker's sense of humor is even more warped and twisted than mine, and he has absolutely no shame and takes delight in making fun of others (though, thankfully, I understand him and he knows I understand him, so we have a friendship based on mutual insulting). He is also a bit obsessed with food. He writes a weekly column read by many people in the industry, and while I call into play the old axiom of "any publicity is good publicity," I sometimes wonder at what price my education is coming. Because in the column he wrote for next week's issue, he referred to me -- by name -- as his "Padawan learner" and then proceeded to compare me to veal marsala.

Okay, how evil would it be for me to tell my parents not to come to Los Angeles the weekend that they have set aside to come here so that I can ditch them and run off to the KROQ Inland Invasion? I know it's bad, but look at that lineup! Plus, I'm guaranteed good seats and I've got a shot at backstage passes... Ugh... must... speak like... William Shatner... and resist... evil!

I started out as a radio DJ in the same timeslot that every radio DJ starts in -- overnights. From midnight to 6am, I ruled the airwaves at 98.7 FM on a rock station, and the best thing was that it was "freeform" radio, which basically meant I could play what I wanted, within reason of course. I had my devoted listeners -- the Cumberland Farms clerks (Cumberland Farms is a Northeast-based convenience store chain, much like 7-11), the third-shifters at Electric Boat (where they built the nuclear subs for the Navy), the hospital workers and the gas station employees. It was great at the beginning. I'm naturally a night person, so I felt at home in the broadcast studio, despite the fact that the rest of the building was empty and it was dark outside and there weren't any cars going by outside. But every night around 4am... it started to get a little lonely. Even though there was probably at least one person listening to me, it still felt like I was the only person awake in the world. No one was around to communicate with me. It still gets that way for me now, more so than when I had a microphone, a CD player, a transmitter and some phone lines to back me up because now there's no way for me to instantaneously talk to people, either through my own words or through music, and have them call in to talk back to me. Like tonight, occasionally I'm up late and can't sleep for reasons unknown to even me, and there's no one around/awake/online to chat with. There's a special kind of silence that comes after midnight when you feel like you're the only person awake. I can understand now why true insomniacs can get extremely depressed, lonely or crazy after a while, and I thank my lucky stars that my insomnia is only temporary. It became a bit of a trademark for me that when I was on the air and felt this lonely, I'd play "Anybody Listening?" by Queensrÿche. I knew the song wasn't completely relevant to the situation, but it made me feel like I was broadcasting my own feelings out to the public, much like I do on mix CDs that I make or when I post the Sunday Most Listened-to Song o' the Week lyrics. And the best part was that it always generated at least one or two phone calls from the outside world, so I didn't feel so lonely anymore. Unfortunately, I don't have that broad connection to the outside world anymore, so I'm relegated to posting the lyrics on my blog, and maybe someone will come along, read it and either IM or e-mail me. Queensrÿche - "Anybody Listening?" You and I Long to live like the wind upon the water If we close our eyes, We'll maybe realize There's more to life than what we have known. And I can't believe I've spent so long Living lies I know were wrong inside, I've just begun to see the light Long ago there was a dream, Had to make a choice or two Leaving all I loved behind, For what nobody knew Stepped out on the stage, a life Under lights and judging eyes Now the applause has died and I Can dream again... Is there anybody listening? Is there anyone that sees what's going on? Read between the lines, Criticize the words they're selling Think for yourself and feel the walls Become sand beneath your feet Feel the breeze? Time's so near you can almost taste the freedom There's a warm wind from the south Hoist the sail and we'll be gone, By morning this will all seem like a dream And if you don't return to sing the song, Maybe just as well I've seen the news And there's not much I can do alone Is there anybody listening? Is there anyone who smiles without a mask? What's behind the words - images They know will please us? I'll take what's real, bring up the lights Is there anybody listening? Is there anyone that sees what's going on? Read between the lines, Criticize the words they're selling Think for yourself and feel the walls Become sand beneath your feet Close your eyes...

10 Wake up 20 Futz around on computer 30 Go to work 40 Get annoyed by people 50 If in good mood, GOTO 60; if in bad mood, GOTO 40 60 Coffee refueling 70 Freak out on deadline 80 Miscellanous time-suckage 90 Futz around on computer again 100 Get shot down a few more times 110 Sleep 120 GOTO 10

And this is why I don't trust Fox News -- I mean, aside from the rabid right-wingers who think they can do no wrong and the fact that they're arrogant/stupid enough to file that dumbass lawsuit against Al Franken. C'mon, people. If you're going to purport yourselves to be an accurate and reputable and timely news source, then you can't use stock photos for a huge-ass news story. That's just plain wrong.