3.20.2008

The Music of the Spheres

3.20.08
10:13 pm
Oh ho yes indeed.
The Music of the Spheres.
The Spheres of Terrible R&B.
Specifically, Usher.
Usher’s new "joint" is entitled "Love In The Club".
Or maybe "Love In This Club" (it’s hard to go off half-cocked if you know exactly what it is you’re talking about...in all honestly, I’m really not even sure it IS Usher but again, a half cock in your hand is...worth......gross, never mind).
Whatever the case, I heard the title first and thought to myself, "Aww, that’s kind of sweet.  Taking such a gross, sticky, sex and drug laden place and imparting it with some sense of romance is kind of nice."
Then, oh silly silly me, I listened to the song.
Silly silly.
Me.
The song is not, as I had dared to dream, about catching someone’s eye across the crunk and vial littered floor of a club and finding True Love, no.
It’s about wanting to fuck someone SO BADLY that you do it...in the club.
L’amor.
The chorus is actually "make love in this club".
One line in particular (paraphrased xmax; half cock, you understand) stands out like a priest’s erection on Easter (TOPICAL!!!!)
"I’ve got the medicine that you need the most/and I know you’re gonna swallow every dose"
Ah euphemisms...sweet, sweet euphemisms...for semen.
Whatever the case, this wet piece of shit is better than that fucking obnoxious idiot anthem "Yeah Yeah Yeah (Yeah Yeah Yeah)" that dominated our charts AND hearts in recent years.
Although that isn’t saying much.
Like, "Hey, today there’s more blood than pus coming out of my penis! Yay!" isn’t saying much.
Half a cock...in your hand.

3.14.2008

'Does anyone smell that?'

3.14.08
7:40 pm
The above question (spoken in broken, heavily accented English by an African nurse) is what has lead me to create the paragraph below.
I swear to you that this is true.
So.
You all know that I don't work in the best Health Care Facility in the World or even in New York City.
But seriously, there is a difference between "not the best" and "populated but goddamn inbred fucking idiots".
So.
I arrive today to find a message in my Inbox with the rules for smoking inside the Hospital attached.
I think nothing of it since it, like most of the messages in my Inbox, does not concern me.
I thought that maybe a resident had been caught smoking where they shouldn't have been or perhaps an employee was suspended for the same reason.
A little later, I was informed why each and every person with a mail box in the system received the same message.
A resident who was supposed to have "One to One" coverage (which means for each of the three 8-hour shifts that make up a workday, there is a professional- and I'm going to go with the dictionary definition which is one who receives monetary compensation for performing a service- nurse with that person) had accidentally set himself on fire.
Yes.
Instead of watching him and, hopefully, intervening, she merely commented, "Does anyone smell that?"
Turns out that yes, several people smelled that...and screamed...a lot.
The resident was moved to a better Hospital (actually a piss-stained cardboard box down the street, but a better Hospital nonetheless) but the nurse remains unpunished.
Why?
Because nurses will cover each others asses no matter how bad they fuck up.
Why?
Because each and every one of them is intelligent enough to know that they are stupid enough to fuck up massively enough to need their OWN ass covered and they are merely banking the good karma.
Like, imagine a spider web made by spiders who are cunning and have a strong sense of self preservation but are dumb as hammers with developmental disabilities.
These hammers are taking care of the infirm here at my place of business.
Anyway, the Admins decided that the best way to stop this from happening again was to send out an e-mail reminding people of the smoking policy and add an extra Security guard to the shifts to wander around from floor to floor and literally check to make sure that no one is on fire.
Honestly...I don't have anything else to say.
*****************************************
Happy Pi Day

3.13.2008

happy. birthday.

3.13.08
3:13 pm
Say what you will about Paul McCartney beating up his wife (quite frankly I think she only has herself to blame; I mean, name one super-mega-star that doesn't have something fundamental wrong with them (Michael Jackson much?).  Success of that magnitude should be a clear warning sign, like a rattlesnake's rattle or an angry, screaming spider waving a gun) but "Happy Birthday" is just an hilarious, uplifting song.
The frantic, insistent yelling of "we would like you to dance", the children singing "birthday", the infectious guitar riffs and the heightened celebratory mood brought about by a multiple Birthday.
This song serves as aural Prozac.
In fact, if you hear this song and depression persists, you may just want to kill yourself because you're bumming everyone out. 
Thanks for that.
Asshole.

3.07.2008

People need to be more careful.

3.7.08
5:10 pm
And here's why...
Occasionally, my phone here will ring.
Sometimes it's a wrong number, sometimes silence, some times even, a person trying to reach this number.
And every once in a while...it's something different.
With the outdated phone system we have here, every once in a while, the phone will ring and I will pick up and find myself in the midst of someone else's phone call.
If it's two people, I'll just hang up and reconnect them, but sometimes it's someone voice mail.
Let me explain, say you wanted to called someone's cell phone from a phone here.
You get their machine and hang up.
Well.
For some strange reason, it will pop over to me so that when I pick up, I'll hear that person's answering machine message and,if I want, I can then leave a message.
I often do.
They aren't normal.
I have never done anything more...bad?...than that.
Until today.
So, the phone rings and I say, chipper as a chipper, "Operator may I help-"
I hear a voice cut itself off...and then begin again.
"I didn't get that.  Say: 1 the policy balance, 2: another sum"
I say "1".
The robot informs me that: "Your balance is $188.44.  Would you like to deduct that from your checking account?"
"Yes" I say.  I wanted to, very much.
"Okay, now our records show you've done this before.  Does your checking account end in 4418?"
Mine doesn't, but I'm sure someone's does.
"Yes" I intoned.
"Okay, your policy balance has been paid off.  This transaction might not show up on your statement until-"
I hung up, bored with his candor.
Then I paused.
Then I laughed my fucking ass off.
I just helped pay off someone's policy balance, whatever the fuck that is.
I'm a good person.
And they need to update this phone system.

2.27.2008

one single page

2.27.08
3:06 pm
My milk goes bad today and I still have quite a bit left.
If I can and it's drinkable, I am going to have a large glass of chocolate milk this evening when I get home.
Also, someone smelled like either Fritos or Triscuits on the Subway today.
The smell wasn't unpleasant, but the fact that someone actually smelled like whichever one it was was.
The BEECHOUZATRONICON XMAX '08 beach house has been selected.
It is undergoing funkification and sexitizing processes as we speak, although these processes won't be fully completed until Those Chosen enter the premises.
As usual.
Feeling slightly Russian today.
Paulikov.
Been watching the penultimate season of The Wire.
If you like good things, check out this show.
The characters are very good.
Very.
Good.
Very good.
Forgot breakfast today, but I did abs so I can just chomp on the endorphins until my break.
chompchompchomp
Monday was me and Chris' 8th anniversary.
In celebration we went up to Cold Spring on Sunday and had an excellent day.
I had a steak wrapped in prosciutto.
I'd like to call it the 'Fuck You Gia' since she is embarking upon a week of veganism.
And I will.
The 'Fuck You Gia' was excellent.
I also climbed a mountain with my nouf and we took ridiculously cute pictures.
I ate snow and it was cold.
I honestly hope that you all get as much love in your lives as I have.
Just not with my girlfriend.

2.23.2008

Wetness.

Just saw the trailer for the new Indiana Jones movie.
There's wetness.

2.16.2008

the vantage falling from the ivory tower

2.15.08
10:11 pm

Is it strange that a priest who has undergone gastric bypass occasionally gives me Werther's Originals?
Hm.
I was wandering around 57th the other day and I happened to pass the Tourneau with all the different clocks out front and I noticed, for the first time, the constant ticking sound emitting from it.
I found it whimsical yet practical, but wondered if the people who work right next to Tourneau enjoy it as much as I do...
I auditioned for the part of Death for an upcoming White Castle commercial.
Surprisingly it had little to do with the quality of the food.
I'm reading "Pattern Recognition" at the moment and finding Trent Reznor less ingenious by the page.
My biceps are harder than any time in recent memory and I'm good with that.
Also, my already-well defined calves have become even more so.
Am okay with that as well.
Was in major bog for a day or so, but have pulled myself out of it.
Hope to begin and finish filming this weekend.
I weep for those without Monday off.
You need to find new jobs that respect whatever the hell we should respect in regards to the day we have off.
Actually, I DO know what Monday is.
It's a goddamn affront.
I remember when we had Washington AND Lincoln's Birthdays off.
Who fucking decided to break it off just under the dentate line and make a Presidential Frappuccino out of days off?
Dogfuckers.

1.31.2008

A decision.

1.31.08
8:59pm
Yes.
I have made a decision.
I have made it on my own and, I'm sorry Christina, there will be no bending on this.
No matter HOW talented or smart or sexy we consider our child/children to be, he/she will not be allowed to answer the phone until they can understand and respond accurately to the question, "Is your mother/father there?".
Now, I'm sure you're wondering how I came to make this irreversible, unbending decision.
Well, I'll tell you how.
One of my co-workers just called some goddamn relative of hers and, for at least three minutes, her side of the conversation consisted of: "Put Gramma 'n the phone, put Gramma 'n the phone, put Gramma 'n the phone, put Gramma 'n the phone, put Gramma 'n the phone, put Gramma 'n the phone, put Gramma 'n the phone,  <idiot fucking laughter at just how CUTE and FUNNY the child on the other end of the phone is for NO PUTTIN' GRAMMA 'N THE PHONE>, put Gramma 'n the phone, put Gramma 'n the phone, put Gramma 'n the phone, put Gramma 'n the phone, put Gramma 'n the phone, put Gramma 'n the phone, put Gramma 'n the phone, <idiot fucking laughter at how NOT obnoxious the aforementioned child is>, put Gramma 'n the phone, put Gramma 'n the phone, put Gramma 'n the phone, put Gramma 'n the phone, put Gramma 'n the phone, put Gramma 'n the phone, put Gramma 'n the phone, put Gramma 'n the phone, put Gramma 'n the phone, put Gramma 'n the phone, put Gramma 'n the phone, <idiot fucking laughter at just how CLEVER this little bundle of joy and teeth is> put Gramma 'n the phone, put Gramma 'n the phone, put Gramma 'n the phone, put Gramma 'n the phone, <burbling noise as my index finger enters the brain>.
I like the last part.
I have nothing against kids but I'm REALLY not a fan of the "my kid is better/more special/etc. than yours simply because it's mine" sentiment.
I guess it's more that I have a problem with the parents of said children.
There are three types of children: the normal ones (who should not be heard from or seen by anyone but those in the child's IMMEDIATE family, and even then only by choice, until they can handle the phone as mentioned above), the stupid ones (like brain defect stupid) and the terrifying prodigies.
The prodigies should be worshipped as Gods so they don't get the wrong ideas and destroy humanity, but other than that?
Keep them in a box until they can function (at least on the telephone) like well trained dogs...that can talk.
Or just don't fucking make me listen to your uninhibited mirth and joy at reveling in the innocent retard ramblings of your should-have-been-aborted fuckling.
Whichever.
Anyway, TMBG this weekend.
Rock on.
Also, I'm planning on filming the third installment of  'The Inchoate Trilogy', entitled 'sextodecimo' in the next week or so.
Now, I know I'm occasionally guilty of hyperbole, but, seriously, this is going to cause the moon to explode and send the earth spinning either into the sun or off into the black depths of space, I'm not sure.
Will should know.
Will?
I'll keep you updated...   
Oh, also, if anyone wants to join me and others at either the Saul Williams show on Wednesday the 9th of April at Irving Plaza or eels at the Highline Ballroom on Tuesday the first or Wednesday the second of April, let me know.
Should be fun...

1.22.2008

Diary of the Dead?

All right, fine.
I like zombies and zombie movies as much as the next person who likes zombies and zombie movies, but after Land of the Dead (which blew zombies) Romero is REALLY going to have to bring it ("it" being the stuff of which great zombie movies are made).
And DOTD looks like someone saw the Blair Witch Project, then the trailer for Cloverfield and then called Romero and said "first person is in, George!" and he fucking fell for it.
But, hey, whatever.
I'll see you in hell Diary of the Dead...you'd better be worth the bus fare.

1.14.2008

1.08.2008

Hey...if it works...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rN2VqFPNS8w

Sexytuple

sexytuple- n. a situation in which I am paid six times the original fee for being sexy.
Example: This Plavix thing was a sexytuple for me.
Thank you Plavix, my new TV will shine on powered by electricity and your love.

12.18.2007

Plavix Rock Star or Plavix Xmax

12.18.07
3:57PM
Does your heart have clots?
Why not name them after your enemies...and then destroy them with the sexiest heart medicine ever...PLAVIX.
Why, you might ask as you are curious little weasels, is this the sexiest heart medicine ever?
Well, my mischievous little marmots, I will tell you.
Because I am the Voice featured in several of their advertisements.
And you know if I and my big, sexy voice are involved, it's sexy.
Bacardi...sexy.
Grey Goose...sexy.
Evergreen Financial...sexually arousing.
The Holocaust...very sexy.

What an excellent Christmas present.
I also had a delicious chocolate Muffin while I was waiting.
That's always good.
Plus, I learned some new industry lingo...
"Wild lines" are NOT lines of coke breaking the typical "straight line" format, but rather a line from a script read on its own, out of context and "academy style" means reading one section three times in a row in order to get different variations of said line, not giving an Academy Awards acceptance speech.
I learn something every day I'm not working at this cocksucking asshole factory.

I am Actor!
Hear me Muffin!
Also, ask your doctor if Plavix is right for you...which it is...because it's sexy.
::nibble::

P.S. "Cocksucking" came up as "crosskicking" on the spell check.
That's actually kind of more offensive in it's own way.

Lite Jazz Has Raped Vince Guaraldi

12.17.07
Sitting in a local pizza parlor (I think that is a LOVELY little epithet by the by) I had the utter misfortune to hear the Lite Jazz sodomizing of the excellent and perfect "Linus and Lucy" by the Vince Guaraldi Trio (aka the Charlie Brown theme).
Speed it up, add a drum machine beat and drain all the feeling, color and soul out of it and that's pretty much what it sounds like.
I'd go into more detail by thinking about it brings on fits of Jittering Diarrhea.
Speaking of Diarrhea.
The final version of the new Gablocki (or should we go with Zuyet?) production, "The Best Sandwich Ever" (featuring a brand new track from the Grammy award winning band, George Washington Diarrhea, check them totally out at www.myspace.com/georgewashingtondiarrhea) should be out soon.
I will keep you posted.

12.06.2007

Tell your friends...

12.6.07
10:33 pm
Just sitting here, minding my owns (my own business), trying to decide whether or not I'm going to call out of work tomorrow when my favorite know-nothing-know-it-all (the History Channel buff I ranted about that time in the Red Room) says this jewel that I must now share with you.

Context: Talking about the martial arts like he actually practices one and as if he is not a middle aged, overweight, balding Hispanic dingbat.

"The cheekbone is powerful.
The cheekbone protects the cheek."
Ooooooooh.
THAT'S what it does.
Seriously, as fucking opposed to what?
The knee?
Yeah, I think I just may call out tomorrow.
Last week I had a four day work week and going from a four to a full five can sometimes give me anal fissures of the soul.
But, fear not, if I DO decide to extend me weekend, I will not blither it away on biscuits and fritters, I am working on yet another project I started in 2005.
It's about Christo.
That motherfucking cocksucker.
That filthy, fucking dog.
Anyway,that'll be happening soon.
And then maybe Malaise Away.
The weather's right for it.
All I need now is some mopey fucks.
Would YOU like to be one of my mopey fucks?
Let me know.
We'll mope something out.
Meanwhile, this Sunday, Phil and Ray and I are going to squeeze our creative juices into a single container and drink deep.
Life on this planet should cease soon after.
Consider it broughten.

11.27.2007

Disney-riffic rootin tootin fuckyou imsogoddamnstired assfuck

11.27.07
4:45 pm
how is it possible that i got less sleep while ON FUCKING VACATION AT HOME THAN I DO USUALLY?
Maybe I should get a job at home so I can sleep more.
i tired.
early morning bad
fuck fuck
went to Disney world while at home (first time since summer of '99 with Jenn and Lauren...when life was more simple...) and, although i believed myself far too cynical to enjoy myself, I surprised me and had a wonderful (if not slightly price-gouged) time.
this is one of the first times I've traveled with my iPod and it's nothing but a breeze, a cooool breeze.
No carry on and my super new ear plugs headphone things make the engines, stews and those GODDAMN OVERABUNDANT CAPTAINS ANNOUNCEMENTS utterly negligible.
I mean, seriously, who gives a tingly fuck that we're flying over North Carolina on the way to New York.
Tell me if we're NOT flying over North Carolina.
THAT is something I want to know.
Assez.
I meant that to be a jazzy new way of saying "asses", not the French verb form for "some fucking thing".
Oui.
Man my head hurts.
Assez foue.
Nous assez avec trois fromage dans le chein et la vache.
Oui.
I'm getting a bunch of scrumble bums together to see 'No Country For Old Men' this weekend.
If you want to be among the Chosen, be born into Fucky, be
borne
 into
it.
Schwa.
I went on the Haunted Mansion.
They updated some stuff.
It's still excellent.
Also, they updated the Pirates ride include the characters from the movies and it's pale.
I had ribs last night.
30 of them.
But they were small.
Cat ribs maybe.
I'm going to contact the folks.
Folks.
Fokes.

11.19.2007

No Hot Pants For Wario Gin OR When The Going Gets Tough, The Tough Get Chinky

11.19.07
5:34 pm
That actually sums the whole thing up quite nicely.
Hm.
Well, for those who CAN'T read between the lines:
I traveled with Reinhold Von Tuckermann via the Big Gray Dog to Washington Direct Current this weekend to cavort with one William James Buckley Pomersantz.
It was chinky.
We met Brooke (good people), Wilbo's roommate/good friend and, as expected, her uber-religious 15 year old sister uttered the words, "he looks like a statue" when she caught sight of me mere moments after waking up Saturday morning before I'd had a chance to put my hair up.
Happens all the time, but I always enjoy when it does.
Means things are running the way they should, by buckets!
Friday night, we embarked upon our third attempt at actually finishing the Big Lebowski drinking game without getting distracted by Asian girls (not the kissing kind, the pretentious, coke-tooting and somber, soul-sucking kind), fly-blown chicken, fire escapes and/or me refusing to drink anymore Irished-Up vodka milk.
The enormity of the task was deceptively easy.
Phil and Will, leather gulleted gunslinger that they are, stuck with Beers while I, with my girlish sensibilities, vapors and monthlies stuck with Sapphire Gin and ginger ale.
Gin tastes like pine trees/ Pine Sol.
We also had two huge packages of Saltines (to soak up the aggravated alcohol damage), hummus and pita, a pack of Twinkies and a pack of Snowballs (the Limited Edition Winter White kind).
They were more disgusted and nonplussed at the consumption of the snack cakes than the Gin.
Anyway, to make a long and bleary story somewhat shorter, I told Brooke (first impression time!!!) that we had played this game in the presence of bitches before, and she WAS NOT a bitch.
I was VERY VEHEMENT on that note.
Very.
VERY.
We then proceeded to take five hours to watch the whole movie...
well...
sort of...
I took five hours, while Phil and Will took about 4 hours and 35 minutes.
You see, the two of them feel asleep on Will's couch before the end of the movie, making ME the first and ONLY Champion of the Fatty Patrol Executive Board Members Big Lebowski drinking game.
I hereby officially retire from the aforementioned game for the remainder of my natural life.
Thank you.
Also thanks to the BLDG, Saturday and Sunday had a bit of a pall cast across them.
Saturday consisted of eating the best burger in D.C., then getting Will his B-day gift.
After more deliberation than even I am used to, we consulted a slightly batrachian employee at the GameStop in the Pentagon City Mall and made our purchase:
Wario Ware: Smooth Moves.
Happy Birthday Will.
Here is some crazy, chinked-out shit.
We then returned to Will's home and rolled around slowly for a while before deciding to check out No Country For Old Men, the Coen Bros. directed adaptation of the Cormac McCarthy novel.
It was an amazing movie.
See it.
Well, that is if you enjoy things that are excellent.
If, you know, you like things that suck, see something else, but if you enjoy things that are great and perfect, see the movie.
Anyway, afterwards we had pasta and something called a Kit Kat Bar at a swanky DC chow house.
I then walked face first into a one way sign and proceeded to bend it in half.
The Dept. of Transportation will receive a VERY stern letter from me in regards to the minimum height requirements of there street signs.
We then played Wario Ware for about three hours.
This game is totally fucked and beautiful.
I can't describe it.
This was the first time I had played a Wii and I can see where, if utilized correctly, the control set up would indeed revolutionize the industry.
I also applaud the Japanese for trying to get all those fart ass gamers moving around a bit, even if it is only to shave a sheep or to balance a panda or to pluck a nose hair.
Sunday morning, Will and I made French Toast after Phil's Burnt Plastic Soup didn't pan out.
Later we had an excellent lunch at a Thai restaurant and went to Barnes & Noble to buy Cormac McCarthy books.
Soon after, Philip and I rejoined our friends at Greyhound and spun back to New Yawk.
All in all, solid good, but an overwhelming feeling of "why the fuck aren't we doing this more often" seemed to pervade the occasion.
We will have to work on that in the coming decade, if Will has a weekend free and it is not too cold.
In the end, I left my brush at Will's but still enjoyed myself.
Enough so, at least, to comment upon it here.
Yours internally,

Knox Harrison
Famous Film Artist

11.14.2007

A review of Nine Inch Nails' Y34RZ3R0R3M1X3D

Every Nine Inch Nails remix album ends up being a mixed bag.
It's just what happens when you get different artists with different styles in one place.
And like other Nine Inch Nails remix albums, the results are varied.
In the case of “Y34RZ3R0R3M1X3D”, the results are more varied than any Nine Inch Nails remix album to date.
Here's a track by track breakdown...

Gunshots By Computer (Saul Williams)
You don't remix a one minute and forty three second instrumental.
Instead, you get an amazing poet like Saul Williams to give it a voice.
A voice that speaks of the army we hear in it and of the people who the army is marching against and of the Nation that the army comes from and of the leader of the army who doesn't know why he has an army in the first place and of the world in which there exists such an army.
Excellent reinterpretation of an excellent opener.

The Great Destroyer (modwheelmood)
I'm usually not a fan of cutting and pasting lyrics to serve the purpose of a remixer, but in the case of modwheelmood's reinvisioning of ‘The Great Destroyer’, it works…very well.
Along with Saul Williams, Alessandro Cortini is the only remixer on this album to have worked closely with Reznor for an extended period of time.
Cortini has performed this song live with Reznor dozens of times, who better to remix it?
What modwheelmood does is amazing; they turn this half paranoid anthem/half computer error explosion into a gentle, sad and climactic introduction to the album.
The re-keying of Reznor's vocals creates a whole new range of emotions not found in the original and it's gorgeous.
Yes, it sounds a bit like Radiohead.
So does modwheelmood.
And anyway, Radiohead is good.
So shut up.

My Violent Heart (Pirate Robot Midget)
The truncated but solid stompfest of Pirate Robot Midget's ‘My Violent Heart’ adds some jagged edges to an already heavy track.
In the original, the army you hear is angry and desperate; in this version they're at your door.
The intro and outro sounds give it a pirated (no pun intended) radio transmission feel.
Nice touch.

The Beginning of the End (Ladytron)
At first listen, Ladytron's ‘The Beginning of the End’ seems a bit lacking and typical.
But if you really dig in, you'll find it has more to offer; not huge amounts more mind you, but more than one would originally think.
The sonic textures add a colder feel to one of the only organic tracks on “Year Zero”.
The 'Closer' reference at the end?
I'm of two minds.
On one hand, it sort of takes you out of the whole “year zero" concept, but then again, these days Reznor does break into 'The Only Time' during performances of 'Closer'.
No harm, no foul.

Survivalism (Saul Williams)
Saul Williams’ version of ‘Survivalism’ takes a bit of the militaristic edge off the original and highlights some elements buried beneath the noise, but I think he should stick to being an amazing wordsmith rather than a so-so remixer.
It isn't bad by any means, but it doesn't float my remix boat.
Also, any Nine Inch Nails fan that picked up the ‘Survivalism’ single back in March has had this remix for over 6 months.
To be fair, I loved his vocal version of this track; it adds that special brand of Williams' vitriol.

Capital G (Epworth Phones)
Not a fan of the reworking of ‘Capital G’.
Too bleepy and bloopy in that annoying "hott clubb mixxx" sort of way.
Interesting use of the vocals though.
They got it half right.

Vessel (Bill Laswell)
Bill Laswell's ‘Vessel’ adds some nice dimension and ferocity to the original although it's hardly a reinvention.
It's a very good remix, as in it's exactly what you'd expect a remix of this song to sound like. I can't really say much more.

The Warning (Stefan Goodchild featuring Doudou N'Diaye)
‘The Warning’ is a great track and the remix by Stefan Goodchild and Doudou N'Diaye Rose is incredible.
The drums add a more organic feel that's missing from the grinding machine sound of the original.
The tinkling piano adds a very unsettling element that fits perfectly with the core of the song.
One of the best on the album.

Meet Your Master (The Faint)
The Faint took the snide, rebellious feel of ‘Meet Your Master’ and multiplied it by 1,000 Funktates.
A Funktate is the unit of measurement for funkiness.
The editing is razor sharp and, with the vocal rendering, the result is incredibly energetic.
This one of the best recreations on here...and you can shake your ass to it.

God Given & Zero Sum (Stephen Morris and Gillian Gilbert)
Both of Stephen Morris and Gillian Gilbert’s remixes add a little something here and there, but the "lay down most of the original elements with a simple synth line underneath them" device never really blows anyone's mind.
As for ‘God Given’, I've never really loved the song and this is just a remix of a song that I've never really loved.
‘Zero Sum’ gained a few interesting components but lost much more in the treatment.
Originally, the song was beautiful, haunting, sad and expansive, now?
It's a remix with some keyboards added.
Way to go, New Order.

Me, I’m Not (Olof Dreijer)
Fuck you, Olof.
After 14 solid minutes of your boring dark wave drones with a few whispers from the original track thrown in I wanted to mutilate my genitals...with a knife.
Thanks for that.

Another Version of the Truth (Kronos Quartet and Enrique Gonzalez Muller)
It's hard not to compare the Kronos Quartet and Enrique Gonzalez Muller’s version of ‘Another Version of the Truth’ with Bellini's version of ‘The Frail’ from the 2000 remix album "Things Falling Apart".
However, it's easy to say that this is better.
Rather than just playing piano parts on the strings, the Kronos Quartet takes the theme provided by Reznor and travels all over with it.
The original feels cold and lonely while this version feels reflective and warm.

In This Twilight (Fennesz)
Fennesz transforms the dying old machine of ‘In This Twilight’ into a beautiful yet sorrowful recollective dream.
From the haze of noise, the occasional sharp edge is felt, but it's more a bitter edge of regret rather than the cold metal felt in the original.
A much more human version of a song about the end of humanity.
The most beautiful offering on “Y34RZ3R0R3M1X3D”.

And the best part is…if you hated every remix on this thing, you can put your money where your whiny, malcontent mouth is!
The disc has EVERY SINGLE SOUND that makes up “Year Zero” included on it.
They’re all there, and there’s even a special website opening up on the release date for you to show the world that you’re better than the artists on this album.
You pretentious asshole.