The Muppet Song of the year, but unlike last year's Gonzo voiced banger, this one is a plaintive ballad sung by Kermit the Frog. It's not easy being green and from New York, and it seems that after the Muppets took Manhattan things kinda went to shit. Not in the dirty, smelly, crime way. In the clean, safe, dull way. Kermit, as channeled by Mr. James Murphy of LCD Soundsystem, whimpers, "New York you're safer and you're wasting my time/Our records all show you were filthy but fine." Look buddy, you gotta snap out of it. This is New York we're talking about, for fuck's sake. These things come in phases. And just when you think it's all gonna end, that the gentrification and the terror and the developers and the fare increases and the velvet roped bottle service clubs are going to eat this town alive and make it burn out in a shredding cacophonous guitar solo...it comes back. Resurrected. Stronger and more beautiful than ever. New York you're perfect, oh please don't change a thing.

Over the weekend I wrote this long-assed post about R. Kelly and "I'm A Flirt". Here are some details from it:

- There are people who like R. Kelly because they think he is bad and they are being ironically cool by liking him. Instead of classifying these people as cool, I classify these people as fools.
- R. Kelly is black, handsome, and rich. Plus he sings.
- Flirting is an art form
- The synth sound on this song is straight up nasty. In fact, every element of production on this song is the goods.
- It doesn't matter if Kells is singing about dirty fucking, being played, cheating, fighting, believing you can fly, stepping in the name of love, stepping with happy people, having sex on Uranus, or having sex in a zoo; his mix of skill and passion is contagious no matter the topic or lyric.
- If you think R. Kelly isn't in on his jokes then you probably think Henny Youngman actually hated his wife.

In the end while making some strong points, the post was long, dry, and uninspired. It didn't make you wanna fuck. It didn't make you wanna dance. It didn't make you wannalaugh. Basically, it was everything that R. Kelly and "I'm A Flirt" are not. So here's all you need to know: If you have a girl, and your game is not tight, do not bring her to the club when Kells is there. Especially if your name is Tommy.

In NYC Friday night is Hip Hop Night. See rap legends Chronikill drop songs, including the soon-to-be smash "Drinking On A Tuesday", from their new album at Don Hills. Unfortunately the rumors seem to be just that, and the new album will not be called Drinking On A Tuesday With Morrie. Come at 10pm for their set and stay all night for the soon-to-be legendary stylings of Lu...Rreals, Dx Army, and No Question?. Word is bond, yo.

It's been twelve months since the last time I did this, so you can finally stop holding your breath.

Amy Winehouse - Back To Black
Don't be an ass and not love this album because she's a fuck up or because she got famous. Remember, she's a fuck up because she's a fuck up, but she got famous cause she's great.

Handsome Furs - Plague Park
It's not the music and it's not just the married couple thing that makes me think of Sonic Youth circa 1987. It's feeling that they'd cook you a nice dinner while talking to you about serial killers and dead animals. Plus they'd look fly doing it.

The Hives - The Black and White Album
RAWK AND ROLL, CAPITAL LETTER STYLE

Yeah Yeah Yeahs - Is Is EP
This pretty little hate machine isn't officially an lp, so for the sticklers out there, just play it twice in a row. The YYYs are one of the most engaging bands out there. Their showmanship is astounding. The image spectacular. But image and showmanship alone don't add up to a hill of beans. Because as Alice Cooper once said on a VH1 Classic promo, "Yeah, I get it, I get it. But where are the songs?" Well, like Wendy's and beef, here's the songs.

Jay-Z - American Gangster
So classy he spells gangsta with an e-r.

Arcade Fire - Neon Bible
The little indie band that could appeared on the cover of Spin Magazine with Bruce Springsteen. They played churches in February and arenas in October. They became your twelve year old nephew's favorite band. You didn't think these guys were ever going to be your little secret, did you? They're just too...big. In every sense. And you get the feeling that this bigger (if not quite better) second album is just that: a second album. So here's to more fame, more fans, more music. Forget the next Bruce Springsteen, I'm talking the next U2.

Radiohead - In Rainbows
Leave it to Radiohead to make an album so unique, beautiful, and smart that it completely overshadows the unique, beautiful, and smart way that they brought it to us.

LCD Soundsystem - Sound Of Silver
Some chica tried to tell me LCD Soundsystem was "electronic music". Nah, yo. Not with the guitars, live percussion, strings. And especially not with the way it makes you pump your fist in the air stoned and drunk in your bathroom or stoned and drunk at their show. So forget Fall Out Boy or My Chemical Romance. Hey, as much as I love 'em, forget The Strokes, Hives, Stripes, Yeahs. This is modern rock music. And in a year where I went to some of the most memorable concerts I've ever seen, the two best were from this same damn modern rock band. Of course, it always helps when you're touring off the album of the year.

If you thought any of these albums should be included, I respect your taste in music: UGK - Underground Kingz, Little Barrie - Stand Your Ground, White Williams - Smoke, White Stripes - Icky Thump, Ghostface - Big Doe Rehab, R. Kelly - Double Up, Devin The Dude - Waiting To Inhale, Liars - Liars, Lil Wayne - Various Mixtapes.

Very sad news. But we will celebrate Pimp C, one of the greats. RIP C, and long live UGK.

Here's a quick look at the albums spinning on SkinnySlim's record player this month...

Bob Dylan - Self Portrait
Dylan's most infamous work, Self Portrait was universally condemned by critics at the time and is generally considered to be his worst album. Which of course means it's special. Back in 1970 heads must have been worried that Bobby Z. was going to have a lounge act in Vegas by the end of the seventies. Plus, it's much harder to skip songs on vinyl. Now with the advantage of both hindsight and mp3 players, the fascinating album can be appreciated in its context. Uneven is a kind way of putting it, but its bizarre and beautiful, sort of like all great art.

The Hives - The Black And White Album
A juicy steak of a record, despite its few atrocious experiments and sell out tracks. Sure, at times it comes on like Jimmy Eat World or some shit, but The Hives expanded their sound and kept their humor all to generally kickassawesome effects.

White Williams - Smoke
I'm giving my kid an alliterative name. You're just more likely to remember it (see: Jacque Jones, SkinnySlim). But White Williams could be named John Doe and you still wouldn't forget kid's blend of glam rock grooves by way of slowed down DJ Screw. Not every song works, but its the best debut of the year and your girlfriend will dig it when I play it for her tonight.

Jay-Z - American Gangster
Oh you crazy Feds, you're just like wack rappers. Try as they may you couldn't get me on the hook. I think we've written enough on Mr. Z over the last few weeks, and posted more than our fair share of new tracks, but for the record, album is hot with a high number of t's.

We've been inundated with emails and comments and death threats and fake anthrax mailings (Not funny. Seriously. Not fucking funny.) over the past five days bitching about why we ain't posting. While we appreciate the desire to read our musings, you all have to understand that sometimes we don't have time to sit in front of our computers, completely naked except for one of those beer hats, and drop gems that will make you, our readers, cool. And listen, we want to make you cool. I'm sure you've been freaking out that you haven't been cool since last Wednesday. But the deal is, this little thing called life smacked us in the face this past week. Something tells me that's not going to be enough of an explanation. So, for the first time since the inception of BadmintonStamps - and despite all of the potential fallout - we are going to reveal our secret identities. My name is Brian Cashman. I'm the general manager for the New York Yankees. My partner in Stamping is named Philip Pullman. He's the British author of The Golden Compass (explains all the shite britpop he puts up). I've been a little preoccupied at the baseball winter meetings in Nashville, trying to make these trades. And I have no comment on Johan Santana or Hank Steinbrenner so please don't ask. Phil-abuster Pullman has been more than a little preoccupied explaining his blasphemous book, now a 200 million buck motion picture, and his general hatred for Christian values. As you can imagine, a powerful Jew and a popular Christ hater would want to keep their identities hidden while they make the world safe for indie rock and hip-hop. So we employ you to understand, have patience, hate the savior, and have a happy Hannukah.

Well, the writer's strike may not be officially over, but I'm crossing the picket lines. It seems after all of that I'm not actually a member of the Writers Guild. Some know it all "writer" told me that bloggers aren't welcome in his union. Well, excuse me Mr. Buck Henry, if that is your real name (sounds like his first pet was named Buck and he lived on Henry Street if you know what I'm saying). I don't want to be a part of your stupid Lollipop Guild anyhow. In fact, I'm going on strike against the union. How ya like them apples? Or is it, "How you like dem apples?"? Either way, the point is I refuse to join their union until they let me join their union. Us bloggers call that giving you a taste of your own medicine. And I'll let you in on a little secret: the medicine is actually a placebo. A poison placebo! I don't think that makes any sense but I'm angry, hungry, and worn out from the weeks spent on the picket line. Anyway, big thanks to my brother for filling in. I know I gave him a tough time, and let's be honest, that first week he really sucked the ass. But he came into his own. I even actually liked the psychiatrist post. Why don't you say goodbye, Scrawny?

Not a friggin' speech, doucheherb. Anyway, your lives can go back to normal, cause the Slim is bouncin' back and ready to attack.

As you have probably heard, the Writers Guild is currently on strike. That means no soap operas, variety shows, sitcoms and whatever the hell this is. The major issue at hand is how to compensate writers for "new media". New media is what is called a "buzzword" even though it's actually two words and no one knows what it means. From what I can gather, the union scribes want cash for internet downloads. Which sounds pretty good. Which is why I've decided to join my brothers in the guild. That's right, I'm on strike. One more time: I'M ON STRIKE! No money, no funny! No cash no...writey things (hey, I'm on strike, give me a break). Of course, in my case, I want money for illegal music downloads, so that's probably going to be a pretty big sticking point. I see this thing going on for quite some time. Luckily I've stockpiled a month's worth of Photo Essays and a one and a half seasons worth of Two And Half Men scripts for when this stoppage ends. But until that day comes, my posts will be written by my non-union scab of a twin brother, ScrawnySlim. Say hello Scrawny.

I said say hello, not give a speech.

It's okay. But don't screw this up for me, bro. I got fans to please. Or should I say I got fans for you to please. Anyway, as you readers can see, ScrawnySlim has his own color. That way you'll recognize his inferior writing as of a decidedly non-union quality. Now please excuse me, I have a picket line to go pick up arty writer chicks on. They're going to need a union leader like SkinnySlim to keep them warm on these long days of not working.