Yeah, so yesterday, we went to the band storage space in Manhattan with the intention of cleaning that sucker out and closing it down, and we darn near almost succeeded. Allow us to set the scene: Manhattan Mini Storage; rainy but not so very chilly; yesterday. And the first thing you need to know is that, man, that place sucks. Something about going to Manhattan Mini Storage brings the whole day’s mood down. You can be driving around, stuck in Manhattan traffic, inching along, listening to some hip indie tunes on the Fordham University radio station (ninety-something point something), dipping the van’s big doughnut-looking tires into that shitty coffee Starbucks pours into the city’s potholes every morning before the sun comes up – basically, you’re driving along having a great time, and then you drive up to Manhattan Mini Storage and the mood just nose-dives. It plummets. Because the place sucks so hard. Which – long story short – is why we had decided to clean the sucker out and close the sucker down. But here’s the goddamn rub of this entire lifestyle article: we didn’t succeed. We filled our trusty, slowly disintegrating van (El Lobo Argentino) to its rusty brim, and still, hunkering menacingly in the storage space, were the following items: a bass cabinet, a bass head in a flight case, four guitar amps in flight cases, a 2,070 lb case full of drum hardware, and assorted green drums. A(whole)nother van load, in short, guys. A great example of “an unbearable prospect” when you’ve already spent 90 minutes at Manhattan Mini Storage is: returning to Manhattan Mini Storage. So we pulled out the white flag, the flag of surrender, hoisted it up El Lobo Argentino’s antenna, and headed to Brooklyn, to Keith’s office, to unload that first vanful of junk. And here’s the second rub of this erratic, paragraphless lifestyle article, reprinted from Vanity Fair magazine: there was some great stuff in that first van-load (“vanful”). Lots of random, great old merch, and even some not-very-great early CDs, stuff we issued back when we sucked. We’re going to take pictures of it and make it available to you – FOR A PRICE. Money. The price will be money. So look forward to that! Or, hell, yawn with indifference.
Paragraph 2: Last night, after the whole cartage episode, we went to K80 Perry’s show at Madison Square Garden and got blown the hell away. Max Hart was there, up on the stage, behind a keyboard, is why we were there. At least, that’s why we *initially thought* we were there. It quickly became apparent that we were actually there to witness an incredible spectacle. Keith is presently gestating a full review of the K80 Perry MSG show; as soon as its ready, we’ll change the font color to black and publish it right here at wearescientists.com. Sorry, that last sentence has gotta be confusing as hell if you’re reading this in Vanity Fair magazine right now. The thing is, the only reason Vanity Fair printed this article in the first place is because it deals heavily with vans – with a van – and they thought it reinforced their brand (VAN-ity Fair magazine, you see). But so, although we offered it to them, they decided to pass on Keith’s K80 Perry review. The review would only serve to diminish their brand, they said, with all its frank talk about sex, music, and culture. The readers of Vanity Fair magazine, its editors told us, are more interested in things like “vans and articles about state fairs,” which is of course Vanity Fair’s slogan. So, if you’re reading this in the glossy pages of Vanity Fair magazine right now, just know that you’ll have to plug in your computer and scream the words “wearescientists.com” at it if you want to read a full review of the K80 Perry thing.
And for Vanity Fair readers only: turn to page 118 now for a tasteful photo spread of Nicole Kidman’s bush. It’s one of the most beautiful things we’ve ever seen. One of the photos we actually cut out and taped to the wall next to our bathroom mirror, so we could study it while we brush our teeth each morning and evening. Nicole Kidman’s success is no mystery once you’ve seen her bush, just how goddamn perfect it is. Anyone who maintains such a fabulous specimin obviously possesses dedication and persistence and grit in spades. Yes, we strongly suggest you skip right to page 118 and get a good look at these great photos of Nicole Kidman’s prize-winning rose bush, shot right there in her back yard. Finally, a tasteful photo spread from Vanity Fair instead of the usual close-up celebrity pussy photography.