You've been around. You sure

You’ve been around. You sure have. You know enough to know that sometimes, sometimes life hurts. Bad. In fact, rarely do you sleep through the night, so haunted are you. So HAUNTED are you!! By what? By your failures: your cornucopia of failures. Your encyclopedic, alphabetized list of failures, often mistaken by friends for a very nice dictionary — your ex had it leatherbound. It serves as a coffee-table-fit monument to your dismal rate of success in this life. It serves, too, as a firm portent of the sort of New Year’s Eve you’re likely to have this year. A goddamn miserable one. Can we be honest? A goddamn miserable one.
Here’s the point: we, the affiliated members of we are scientists, New York’s most buttoned-up rock band, used to be the same way. We used to blow New Year’s every time our calendars gave us half a chance. Now? We’re in a rock band that does things like play shows in front of throngs of adulation-frenzied fans on New Year’s Eve. How did we do it? Simple. We did it by going to lots and lots of we are scientist shows.
Here’s a statistic whose meaning is pretty damn unambiguous: we have, all three of us, been present at no less than EVERY SINGLE WE ARE SCIENTISTS SHOW IN THE LAST TWO YEARS. And you can bet your pet bird’s budding brain tumor that we’ll be at
Luna Lounge
(171 Ludlow b/n Houston & Stanton–Take the F train to 2nd Ave.)
December 31st, 2002
8:45 pm
Hey. Let’s wipe the slate clean. Let’s bury that volume of little missteps and federal crimes beneath a landslide of hot pop melodies, cold champagne, lightning-fast fooseball, lingering kisses at midnight… let’s strike a match that you can use to set 2003 ON FIRE. Let’s make 2003 for you Year of the Ferrari, Year of the Beachfront Mansion, Year of the Non-Manipulative-but-Somehow-Still-Sexy Significant Other Who Looks Great In A Swimsuit.
* A couple of notes about this show:
-Luna Lounge is 21 and over.
-Luna Lounge is charging a $10 dollar cover for New Year’s Eve, but if you show up before 9 and say you’re their for the we are scientists, IT’S FREE. FREE FREE FREE FREE FREE FREE [to the melody of the chorus of John Mayer’s folk classic ‘Your Body is a Wonderland’].

Okay, kids. So steps have

Okay, kids. So steps have been taken to clear up this whole problem with our server. The steps, they were brash steps, bold steps, steps involving the sort of bravery and derring-do that one implicitly associates with We Are Scientists, steps that likely involved espionage and explosions and Keith thinking that his sleeve was on fire and shrieking and waving his arm around in the international symbol for fire-extinguishing impotence. But, mainly, the steps involved securing a new server. Which we did. So, there. That’s all been taken care of, with only a scorched sleeve to show for it.

A Letter To Keith From His Dearest Childhood Friend

Just Now Discovered While Visiting His Parents in Miami, and Which Illuminates More About His Childhood Than He is Really Comfortable Sharing With You, but He Will Do So Anyway, Because it is the Time of the Year for Giving.
December 10, 1987
Dear Science Officer,
Bzzz, bzzz do you still want to kill me? I hope not, because we will have to join forces to defeat Captain Rick Hunter, if we don�t he may use Doc. Cabbage, Tyrone, and Gorp to destroy us. It would be neat to have the I.S.S. Slime Slug all to ourselves. It would also be easier if slugs were running the ship. Ace Air Slug could be our captain, Gee wouldn�t that be awesome. I�m sorry that you lost 29% of your life. Oh well, at least you turned out to be an Insectoid at the end!
Your Crewmate,
Insectoid, Kevisect.

WAS-Libs

One day, We Are Scientists’ (adjective meaning “very talented”) guitarist awoke in his (three digit number)-room mansion, feeling, for the first time in his (adjective meaning “perfect” or “enviable,” your choice) life, a bit of malaise. “Whence this unusual sentiment” Keith mused, pulling off his Spiderman pajamas and slipping into something a little less dressy. After a morning spent wading through piles and piles of that morning’s (noun meaning “fan mail”), Keith still was not feeling any better, so he wandered up to the bedroom of Michael Tapper, WAS’ (adjective meaning “�preternaturally gifted”) drummer . “Michael,” Keith shouted, “please stop kissing (name of Hollywood starlet) and help me out of this indomitable funk!” But, as was the case with (name of another Hollywood starlet) and (name of third Hollywood starlet, this one sort of disturbingly aged) before her, Michael could not be distracted. So, Keith shuffled down the hall to Chris Cain’s room, where he found the (adjective meaning “devastatingly handsome”) bass player (verb meaning “painting a pastoral landscape scene”) with one hand while simultaneously (verb describing something horrifically vulgar) with the other. “I shan’t disturb him,” Keith thought, and so he repaired to the sitting room, where he spent the rest of the morning (verb meaning “shooting bullets into his vast collection of gold records until he ran out of ammunition, a practice that always made him feel better.”)

Look, people. We want to

Look, people. We want to update more often. We know you crave the information, we hear your pleas, we see you crouching outside of our windows. But, for multiple reasons, sometimes it seems prudent to hold back. Just to cinch up our belts and play coy for a while. What good does it do us to tell you about the WAS feature film – starring Ben Affleck as Keith, Matt Damon as Chris and Danny DeVito as Michael – that is currently in post-production? What good does it do to get you excited, when we all know that the film will most likely never see release, so shocking and challenging and frankly carnal is much of the content of this very faithful autobiography? It does nobody any good. So, we like to hold off, enjoy our grapeade, and not say a word until the things, the incredibly exciting things that we are always scheming, are 100% going to happen. But let us just prime the pump a little by saying that, yeah, you will see some neat things soon.
Another problem here, though, is that our server is troubled. We’re having problems here, kids, we won’t lie. Yes, we are scientists, but we are also idiots, and, most of the time, we can’t get these computers to do our bidding. Upload the file! Keith screams at his monitor hourly, but his CompuShitty brand computer steadfastly refuses to respond. So, Keith sits around at home, watching the video for Bomb Inside the Bomb over and over, marveling at the sheer achievement in animation that has been made here, laughing with childlike whimsy every time he sees the part with the goose. Oh, the part with the goose is so good. But it looks like you kids while not see frame one of this Oscar-deserving short until Keith figures out the difference between right-clicking and clicking “Ctrl + Alt + Delete” over and over and over, shrieking with fury and frustration until he is tucked into bed and euthanized by his band mates.

Significant Discoveries Made by we are scientists / Part 1

Smallest living mammal