Copy and paste the following search query into Google, replacing “BAND NAME” with, you guessed it, a band name. The search will return open indexes that contain downloadable music files matching your search criteria. Try it out for yourself.

{-inurl:(htm|html|php) intitle:”index of” +”last modified” +”parent directory” +description +size +(wma|mp3) “BAND NAME”}

I was trying to catch a cab home from the West Village at around 4am on Friday night when I came across this strange situation. I saw a girl laying on her stomach on the corner of a busy intersection screaming what sounded like “Save Ireland.” As I stood and watched in awe for about 15 minutes, a large crowd started to gather— including the NYPD. The girl must have been on some type of speed. This was not normal drunken behavior— this was absolute insanity. At one point I decided this was too good to not be videotaping, so I started to record the scene with my phone (sorry for the bad quality).

A man, claiming to be a doctor, approached the girl to ask her what was wrong, but she continued to scream the same nonsense about “Ireland” in his ear. The NYPD asked him to leave stating “she’s not going to die.” As he attempted to comply, he lost his balance and tripped backwards— to which one officer responded by grabbing him by the collar and pulling him up. When asked why he was being threatened for trying to help, the officer arrested him immediately. The man was understandably confused, considering he was trying to help this girl as everyone else, including the police, stood around laughing at her. Arresting him, not the girl screaming face down on the pavement, was the obvious decision. Nice work boys.

As he was being put in the back of the police car he kept saying “to serve and protect!” I thought that was a nice touch. You have to love the NYPD’s double standards, though. Had that been a guy on the ground screaming, he would have been arrested for disorderly conduct before any crowd could have witnessed something as ridiculous as this.

Not that I would know anything about that.

What can really happen in a day? Rome couldn’t be built, as the famous saying goes. Policies can’t be changed. Diseases can’t be cured. As pessimistic as it may sound, the only major change that can be made in a day would be something catastrophic— ending the world as we know it. This isn’t the rant of a doomsday prophet, but rather the scientific conclusion of some of the worlds most renown biologists, geologists and astrophysicists. Our universe is an incredibly volatile place— it can end at any time and in a number of ways.

Have you ever worried about two atoms colliding at the speed of light, creating a Black Hole whose tidal forces would rip us all apart atom-by-atom? How about a landslide off Africa’s coast that triggers a mega-tsunami which wipes out the east coast of the United States? Of course not. These scenarios are usually dismissed as being the product of a wild imagination and too many science fiction novels. But the fact of the matter is that it’s not a question of if these events will happen, but when. Worried yet?

I’m not saying we should all live our lives crippled in fear over this scientific inevitability. Rather, we should take this opportunity to more actively observe and question our surroundings and escape the cone of ignorance that we are falling into. I’m sure you’ve all heard the phrase “what goes up must come down” and accepted it as scientific fact. Based on our experiences, we are given no reason to believe otherwise— it’s the law of universal gravitation at work just as Newton described it.

The truth is, if an object is given an initial upward speed of 11.2km/s it would break Earth’s gravitational pull and never return. So much for that theory. Obviously no human is capable of projecting an object at such a high rate of speed, but that’s not my point. The point is, when did we, as a society, become so willing to accept things at face value? Has history not taught us that science is a constant cycle of improving past theories to reflect new discoveries? Then why do we theorize about gravity like it’s 1687?

The universe is billions of years our elder— not all of its intricacies will become apparent within the confines of our lifetimes or even our planet. We are looking for the easy answer, because we all fear what we can’t understand. But we shouldn’t be afraid. Being baffled is at the heart of all innovation— it’s what keeps us asking questions and further pursuing that which we can’t comprehend. I often feel like my generation has lost interest in asking ‘why?’— the foundation of all discovery. Answers, accurate or not, are offered to us so readily that it has become inconvenient to seek any first-hand knowledge. Now that’s something to worry about.

I recently finished a book on this topic called ‘Death by Black Hole’ by Neil deGrasse Tyson, a world renown astrophysicist and director of the Hayden Planetarium at the Museum of Natural History in New York City. While some of the scientific jargon was a bit over my head, the book gave me a new appreciation for the world around me, and what a fragile balance our universe hangs in. It encourages you to forget everything you think you know and open your eyes to the world as it is revealed to us. I would strongly recommend anyone interested in this topic read this book. For those of you who are more interested in an abridged version of the universes chaotic schemes, the BBC just released an excellent short film detailing many of the same theories, but without the scientific explanations the book offers.

So take a little time to appreciate the world today. There might not be a tomorrow.

Chytoria Graham of Erie, PA pleaded guilty today to aggravated assault and endangering the welfare of a child after swinging her 4-week-old son like a baseball bat at her boyfriend during a fight. Graham admitted taking the infant by the feet and swinging him, fracturing the infants skull on impact. Her reason— depression.

My blood boils when I see scumbags like this get off with a slap on the wrist after claiming some bullshit medical condition. I’ll tell you what would be depressing to me— getting my skull crushed after being used as a weapon by my own mother. It’s disgusting to think that this woman could possibly get away with rotting in jail for only 5 years. Cases of this nature call for a more creative and suitable punishment. Forget prison— wrap her in barbed wire, then roll her down a rocky hill into a large vat of salt. That would be something to be depressed about.

Did I mention she has three other children and is currently pregnant with a fifth? Why is it that the most unfit parents are always the ones that continue to reproduce? Give these kids a chance in life and put them up for adoption. Honestly, what does she need another baby for? I have one theory: baby nunchucks.

I was reading an article about homeless people today. Apparently they are becoming a problem— around 750,000 strong. I’ve only been living in New York for 7 months now, but I’ve already seen more than enough of this problem first hand. If I’m not being hit up for change I’m being offended by their smell. They’re everywhere— and come in all varieties.

The Stinky Bum
This is the kind that you know is around way before you see them. The worst feeling in the world is when you realize you’ve stepped onto a subway car with a stinky bum. I made this tragic mistake a few days ago, walking onto what I thought was a less overcrowded car. I was greeted by the familiar smell— usually a mixture of wet dog, body odor and possibly urine. I turned to look for him only to realize the situation was far worse than anticipated. With his bare feet lounged across an entire bench, he smiled at us as if he was enjoying our displeasure. Nearly half the car was rendered uninhabitable. The smell left me dry heaving at work until well after lunch. How do you let your life get to that point? The point where people will literally not come within 20 feet of you. I’m not even asking that you get a job, just stay off the F line.

The Crazy Bum
This variety of bum is usually at least mildly entertaining, even if it is just for being pathetic. Sometimes this craziness is a result of legitimate mental illness, but it’s more than likely from all the crack they spent the day smoking. Some talk to themselves, some scream profanities at families and some just stare silently at nothing. You never know what you’re going to get, but it’s the unpredictability that make them entertaining.

The Preacher Bum
Some preach the word of Jesus Christ, others proclaim doomsday theories. Either way, I can’t read my book or even listen to music. I do not care about anything you have to say and I have no intent in giving you money for saying it. Shut up.

The Talented Bum
This is the bum I am most likely to spare some change for. They are showing effort. Whether it’s drumming plastic buckets or playing a harmonica, they are at least trying to make a contribution to society. This can be said of few other bums categorized on this list. I appreciate your efforts fellas— just don’t touch me.

The Caveman Bum
This bum does not speak English, or any other understandable dialect. He speaks in grunts. One of the most notable of this class is the 14th Street Barbarian. Standing roughly 6′4” tall and 300lbs, he is adorned in tattered brown rags and has a thin layer of filth covering all exposed skin that accents his long, frizzy black hair. You can usually find him grunting, spitting or pointing his fingers like a gun at people throughout this station. It’s an incredibly unsettling experience.

The Shameless Bum
The name says it all. This is the bum that you see relieving himself on the stairs you are trying to walk up, picking butts out of ashtrays or eating a sandwich out of the garbage. All I can do is shake my head in silent disapproval.

The Disabled Bum
I’m not sure if these guys are bums because they are disabled or just average people trying to cash in on sympathy. They usually don’t have the defeated-at-life look most bums do. Although, I am sometimes impressed by their determination to panhandle. One time when I was on the train, a man in a wheelchair, legs gone at the knees, came through the door. He somehow managed to make it through the doors that connect the cars while the train was going full speed, an impressive feat. He began to wheel his way down the car, shaking his coffee can. As we approached a stop, the conductor hit the brakes particularly abruptly, sending the man flying across the car and into the door with force. I knew I shouldn’t laugh, but he had to have known that was coming. I can barely stand on the train unaided as it is. Wheels would be out of the question.

The Entitled Bum
This is the bum least worthy of my pocket change. At least all of the other bums had some type of charm, especially if they are asking for money. These guys will walk by you and shake a handful of change in your face—expecting money. No story, no entertainment, no effort at all. And if you don’t give to this worthy cause they look at you in disgust. Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was obligated to give money to you for shaking change in my face. The most infuriating part about these bums is that people actually give them money for this feeble attempt at panhandling. The last thing a bum needs is to be encouraged for a complete lack of effort (See: The ‘Given Up On Life’ Bum) . I know you love your crack and malt liquor, but you’re going to have to do better than that to earn my change.

The ‘Given Up On Life’ Bum
This bum is usually passed out on a busy sidewalk. When they aren’t sleeping, they lay around with a look of complete hopelessness— not even bothering to ask for money. No purpose. No meaning. So depressing.

Got another category or good bum story? Use the comments.

I thought that’s what I smelled on those Jersey guys at the bar this weekend.

Kelly and I were on the F train heading to midtown when we ran into this character. The video comes in about halfway through our conversation with him, but since his drunken ramblings made no sense anyways it doesn’t really matter.

Ridiculous claims made:

• Name is ‘Bond, James Commander’
• Is from Woodstock, NY, Bennington, VT and Hoboken, NJ
• Is 58, with 3 ex-wives, 4 kids, 2 grandsons and a Puerto Rican girlfriend who is addicted to crack (this one might be true)
• Is a chess master in Tompkins Square Park
• Kicked the wall down in Dresden; a Reagan man

Other notable moments:

• Having “Bullshersy” yelled in my face when I disagree with his claim that he’s from Woodstock
• Blowing his whistle for us— spitting all over Kelly’s face in the process
• Homeless guy tries to steal the camera while Kelly is using it, a very ballsy move
• We realize we are at our stop and leave while he is still talking

Bekyarov,

I appreciate you keeping me up to date on this and I look forward to seeing your work. Much respect to anyone who can make this disaster look presentable.

Thanks again,
Phil

Having always been a supporter of the Sony brand, it has been disappointing to watch it crash and burn over the past year due to the turmoil surrounding their latest offering to the gaming world— the PlayStation 3. This video, to the tune of The Fray’s “How to Save a Life,” points out some of the more obvious ways Sony killed its own brand. Granted Wii, PS3 and 360 all rhyme, this is still an awesomely creative song.

The gaming industry has changed drastically in recent years, and Sony has either overlooked or ignored this fact. When Microsoft entered the market with the Xbox in 2001, it changed the the dynamics of the industry as we once knew it. Strong brands such as Nintendo and Sony could no longer depend on platform loyalties like they had in the past. They needed to differentiate through innovation instead of simply making cosmetic improvements to past products.

Nintendo obviously got the hint— releasing the remarkably successful and innovative Wii. Microsoft found a niche with their online community, Xbox Live— enabling casual gamers like me to verbally berate 12-year-olds of superior skill. This is an obvious attempt to compensate for my inability to adapt to today’s overly complicated game play, but satisfying nonetheless. Sony, on the other hand, thought that the strength of it’s PlayStation brand would be enough for it to survive the platform wars. When Wii sales proved it wasn’t just a novelty and online communities revolutionized gaming, Sony was left reeling.

So what was the PS3’s fatal flaw? It’s simple— it was late, expensive and incompatible. When it was announced in spring of 2005, it had the opportunity to drive a stake through the heart of Nintendo by beating them to market with this next generation system. Nintendo effectively stole the PS3’s thunder by releasing the cheaper, more innovative Wii while Sony was still struggling with manufacturing delays. Cost was another major flaw. While the $600 price tag is actually quite reasonable for the amount of technology packed into this system, it makes it inaccessible to a majority of its target audience.

Ignoring the needs of the consumer was Sony’s most fatal flaw. Giving the consumer the option to buy these features on an à la carte basis, like the Xbox 360’s HD-DVD drive, would have made a tremendous difference. Forcing Blu-ray down our throats in an attempt to use influence to win the format wars was not well received. Ignoring gamers demand for online communities was just stupid. When the consumer is clear in what it wants, why wouldn’t you listen?

With all of this said, what is Sony’s only hope? That the PS3 spontaneously combusts like their batteries, destroying all evidence of this colossal mistake.

I knew it was only a matter of time before I wrote my first post about the Buffalo Sabres— and after the amount of heart they showed tonight, I couldn’t deny them any longer.

I’ve been a Sabres fan for as long as I can remember. Growing up in Buffalo you don’t really have a choice. We live and die with our sports teams— and games like tonight make me understand why. The Sabres came into tonight’s game against division rival Ottawa with a laundry list of injuries to many of our key players. Most teams wouldn’t stand a chance against an elite team like Ottawa with a bench full of rookies. But not Buffalo.

The games fast-paced momentum went back and forth until about 5 minutes into the 2nd period when Sabres captain Chris Drury caught an elbow to the face, causing a deep cut and a puddle of blood on the ice. From the second he hit the deck I knew this wasn’t going to be pretty. When the puck dropped on the ensuing face-off, it was on. What started as a few scattered fights turned into a brawl for the ages when goalies Martin Biron and Ray Emery left their creases to join the action at center ice. After the goalies were separated, Sabres enforcer and my personal hero Andrew Peters went toe to toe with Emery to prove a point.

Somewhere between the repeated haymakers to Emery’s face I realized something— this is what Buffalo is all about. This is why we have 18,000 screaming fans at every home game when other clubs can’t give their seats away. I’m not talking about the fighting (although it was awesome), but the loyalty that these guys have to each other. It’s a rare thing to find anymore, especially in professional sports, but something that is of the utmost importance to all Buffalonians. We go to the grave with our loyalties, and watching our team defend their fallen captain made me proud, honestly. Judging by the cheers from the crowd, I have a feeling I’m not alone. There’s a reason we are currently the best team in the NHL. It’s not just raw talent; it’s the never-say-die attitude that they play every game with. Few teams can match our skill, but even fewer teams can match our heart and determination. That’s what makes us the BUFFALO Sabres. Not any other team. Not any other city.

It’s easy to sing the praises of star talents like Ryan Miller, Danny Briere and Chris Drury. They are phenomenal players that have made us one of the most dangerous teams in the league. But, tonight was proof that sometimes a team needs more than someone to light the lamp. They need emotion. I’m sure as the playoffs get closer I will have more than enough opportunities to talk about Miller’s mind-boggling saves and Briere’s ice-cold blood, so I would like to dedicate this post to the goons. The guys whose passion to win exceeds their on-ice talent.

Thank you Andrew Peters, Adam Mair and the rest of you guys who have the balls to stand up to anyone and everyone in defense of a teammate. That’s something I can’t help but respect. Wear the Buffalo sweater with pride.

Oh, and we won 6-5 in a sudden-death shootout, incidentally. Had the outcome been different, the time spent writing this post would have instead been spent with a bottle of Jack Daniels. Did I mention we drink to solve our problems in Buffalo? Go Sabres!