Get My Prince Hal On

• "Out of gas," to me, is second in Camdonispeak only to "critical."

• I smoke. You shouldn't smoke. Because smoking is bad for you. But I do it anyway, because smoking, all things considered, kicks the shit out of not smoking.

I have smoked a lot of cigarettes, and a lot of different kinds of cigarettes. And the long-discontinued Gitane Non-Blonde has achieved, for me, this sort of legendary Long Lost Best Cigarette Ever status. So much so that the Gitane Non-Blonde couldn't have possibly been as delightful a smoke as it is in my memory.

Recently I have come across a brand of cigarettes that reminded me of the Gitane Non-Blonde: the 555. I don't know what to call them, really. "Triple-Fives?" "Five Five Fives?" "Five Cubed is One Hundred and Twenty-Fives?" I don't care. They're great.

• Here's why I love the internet: because you can go from Drawn! to Comicrazys to a Flip the Frog cartoon on YouTube and it's, like, one of the more logical browsing progressions.





























• The other day I mistakenly received the above postcard in my mailbox.

• I haven't heard it yet - and, to be honest, I may never - but looking at the setlist from Jason Schwartzman's guest DJ spot at KCRW, I'm thinking: he couldn't, from an aesthetic perspective, have picked any other songs. Unless he wanted to play a Kinks track. Or, like. The Rushmore soundtrack.

• I just want to say it, so that it is in print: at some point, a rapper will make a boast - in the same way that Shawn Carter once famously said the he had been spending hundreds "since they had small faces" - that sounds a lot like this: "I'm ballin' so hard I could buy a tank of gas or two." And I'm just saying. You heard it here first.

• I want these books.