Here's a video of Steve Martin doing the video for "Billie Jean" on The New Show. Make sure to watch all the way end to catch the show's credits; they're amazing.

...and that it could clean its own litterbox.

Man. I do not want a fetus in my womb anytime soon, but kids are HILARIOUS. I don't usually catch a lot of the youngings during my morning commute, but today I went in early and had the extreme pleasure of hearing three middle school students brag about their hacking skills—which, as far as I can figure out, meant knowing the passwords to various teacher and administrator computer accounts. They were all some level of clueless, especially one girl who it seemed was just itching to get in on the conversation without really knowing what to say. Here's a sampling:

Girl: Yeah, I used to hack into the mainframe from home.
Boy with "I'm not shaving yet" mustache: I hacked into the administrator account at school. It's the same thing.
Girl: Well, I hacked directly into the mainframe.
Mustache: It's the same thing! Besides, I use hacking for very serious reasons, like to take lates off my record.
Boy with glasses: The admin password at school is just "admin." It's so easy!
Girl: One time, I used "the" as a password.
Glasses: I use "password" as my password. Nobody would ever guess that!
Girl: That's the first thing I try.
Glasses: No, nobody ever thinks of it...
Girl: It's the first thing I try!!!!!!!

While I found it hilarious to hear those geeky kids talk, it also gave me warm fuzzies of nostalgia. I was around their age when my family first got the internet, and I spent my subsequent hours teaching myself HTML and talking about Maxis and LucasArts games with my friend Mike. It was kind of contagious to listen to these kids who were at the same awkward age talk about their computer exploits. They were boastful, of course (what middle schoolers aren't?), but under that there was excitement and curiosity. I always felt like I came of age on the internet, and it seems that's what like these kids were doing too.

Of course, that seems silly to say now—all kids come of age on the internet these days. They get their tiny hands gripped around mice at a younger and younger age. But there's a vast difference between using MySpace and IM and sitting with your friends on the subway idolizing computer skills (sorry, I mean "skillz"). When we were young, everyone watched TV, but not everyone turned into a filmmaker. It’s the same sort of thing.

Ach. I'm much too young to be getting sentimental like this. But as long as I’m being nostalgic, let me just say: Kids on the subway? When I was young, computers didn’t even have mice.

Hey! Look! I added an RSS feed!

I ran into this nugget of gold on the ol' IMDB there, and I'm very excited. I can't say that the plot sounds particularly amazing – "A pair of well-meaning, but socially inept brothers try to find their perfect mates in order to provide their dying father with a grandchild." – but let's look at the people involved with this: It's directed by Bob Odenkirk from Mr. Show. Written by Will Forte, who I have very much been enjoying on Saturday Night Live. Starring Mr. Forte, Kristen Wiig (my current SNL favorite), Jenna Fischer from The Office, and Will Arnett from Arrested Development. Assuming the script is solid (oh, please let the script be solid), this movie is going to be like comedy porn for me. It’s out in August. Squee!

Tomorrow is St. Patrick's day, the annual celebration of Irish culture and dollar store clover-leaf jewelry. This year, instead of drinking Guinness, Harp, or whiskey, consider trying a totally new drink that doesn't just celebrate Ireland, but also honors its history.

As many people know, one of the worst blights to ever hit Ireland was the potato famine of the mid-1800's. The potato was the staple of most Irish diets, and when disease decimated the crop, the nation was crippled by hunger. It's estimated that between 1846 and 1849, up to three million people died of hunger and two million people emigrated to other countries.

In honor of the poor souls who died or were uprooted in the famine, I have invented the Potato Shot. You need the following ingredients:

• Potato vodka
• A potato

Instructions: Carve one (for small potato) or two (for large potato) shot glasses out of the potato. Fill with potato vodka. Drink. Green dye optional.

I love biking, but I am not very good with bikes. In fact, I would say I am pretty bad with bikes. For example, when I was trying to exit my house last night, I got stuck in my door with my bike. The door simply wasn't open far enough, so the handlebars got stuck, and then I got stuck behind them, trying unsuccessfully to push through while having a conversation with my neighbor about his rock 'n' roll show for kids.

Since I am not very good with bikes, I have gotten used to something that I will refer to as "push biking." Push biking is the biking I do when something is wrong with my bike, such as a poorly-oiled chain, half-inflated tire, or host of other problems. The sensation when I am biking is that yeah, I'm biking and it's fun, but I think I might go faster if I got off and pushed. My legs always seem like they're working entirely too hard for what I'm getting out of the bike, especially when I'm biking with other people and I see them zip past me with ease.

Last night was one of the first really warm nights of the early spring, and I wanted to ride my bike. I needed to ride my bike. There are some great creepy areas out somewhat north of my house, filled with dark warehouses, that needed exploring. So I took out my bike and discovered that the front tire was flatish. Not flat, flatish. Workable, right? So I got out the tire pumps. Yes, pumps. Multiple. See, I keep them both because one is kind of broken and one is really broken, and I never remember which is which. Last night, they were both acting pretty well broken, and after laboring over the tire for ten minutes, I decided that flatish was not that bad. So after I wrangled my way out the door, I started biking, and it was great. Absolutely beautiful. But then my back tire did this...thing it does. It will start to shift to the side and rub against my kickstand, creating this terrible racket and making riding about as comfortable as sitting on a hog with a seizure. After riding the seizure hog for about five more minutes, I gave up, and walked ol' Porky to a friend's house nearby to get her patched up well enough to ride home.

You might say I should get a new bike. But that's expensive. More likely, I'll buy another pump that will break, kick my back tire until the rubbing stops, and push bike into the sunset.

There's some pretty good stuff coming out of the Upright Citizen's Brigade Theatre in LA:

Under the El on Front Street, Philadelphia.