Shame MI5 weren't around to pop one into his skull like an innocent Brazilian. But, no - he's just another tit with a drum kit.

Gonna keep this goin' all day and all night.
We use toxic chlorine bleach to keep our underpants white.

OK, for a minute there I feared that last quote was actually part of the article. Very funny dude.

Cripes.

The next stanza was - "I've got a dream, bitch ... cause woooo (falsetto) I grew up in Greenwich."

Thanks for killing the last shred of nostalgia I had for my junkie slacker days, Moby.

Man, they really overpaid.

He then fixed people's vacuums.

"here's a train comin', goin' to the east side.
there's some towns over there, and an island of pets.
mind the gap please, next stop is victoria.
fish and chips and a pint of ale."

2 minutes later...

"here comes a train, goin' to the west side..."

Hope that he didn't do his cover of "That's When I Reach for My Revolver." Hate to tempt the commuters.

This is going to be a great episode of The Celebrity Apprentice.

@mathnet:
Ha!

He also bought that Czech Girl a piano.

Sloanies will NEVER give you any cash....he sould've done it in East London..

@mathnet: Please tell me you liked that movie. Even just a little?

I prefer the fat Moby that you'd never see.. you know, Dick?

everything is wrong

@Helman: I did like it, yes. Mind's Made Up.

That's what? 6,987,877 dollars U.S. at this point?

"Sloane Rangers," you mean.

This is like the time I delighted an Astor Place crowd with a chalk drawing about boarding school.

Wow, they really have slashed promotional budgets at the record labels.
Good job, downloaders, keep it up and we'll have have Mariah giving talon-y handjobs with every CD purchase.

@Phyllis Nefler: "I got some Gothy jeans on and my cap, it is a scally, but wooo (falsetto) I come from Locust Valley!"

"here comes a train goin' to the west side.
there you'll find some other real fancy pants names.
it's called the circle line because it comes back here
after driving all around in a big long circle."

Following Moby's lead, perhaps fellow one-named crusader Bono will chain himself to a tree.

"Here is a train going to the South Side. With briefcase in hand and a yob's brolley in your side. Yobs spitting and coughing and scratching their balls. And snotty Sloanies are appalled at it all."

With his teeth, they probably thought him a local.

I would pay to keep him there. In Sloane Square. In the Underground. Forever.

A friend of mine was making out with Moby for about a week. His game involves bringing chicks into his in-home studio for private acoustic serenades and then slipping them the tongue. She was sort of charmed by it until he was very sleazily trying to put the moves on her in his DJ booth at Hiro and an aquaintance mentioned that Moby had given a number of people herpes.

I just saw Cher playing spoons in Union Square.

@mathnet:
...don't you ever tarnish the good name of glen hansard like that again.
i will turn this blog around and go home if you do.

i thank him for not singing 'Hairdresser on Fire.'

I saw Moby live once, as part of some music festival, and it was hilarious. No, really. His set-up featured a spread of varyingly exotic musical instruments - from an electro-harp to Orph woodblocks - laid out across the expanse of the massive stage, that sat unmanned for the majority of his set as he played his decks and guitar and whatever. Just as I began to wonder whether all these random instruments constituted nothing more than some high-concept set dressing (on the theme of the history music musical instruments?) the band embarked on this middle-eastern-flavored expanded midsection of "Body Rock" that found Moby, grinning and panting like Michael Flatley, unstrapping his guitar and bounding around the stage from instrument to instrument, each more random than the next, to bless each one with a "passionate" solo. This went on for like 20 minutes -- you'd look up from lighting your smoke, and there was Moby jacking off on the Tabla; come back from the beer tent, and there he is making fuck-faces with a Hurdy Gurdy. Theramin. Xylophone. Clarinet...never neglecting to pause for a beat between each conquered instrument to soak up the very tepid applause from the clearly bored audience. The whole ordeal bore a striking resemblance to Gob Bluth's magic show, only with instruments. Hysterical.

@JojoSaysNo: Was she making any money?

Are "Sloanies" the spawn of "Sloan Rangers"?

@pre555soul: Not from me. I can never forgive the lyrics to "Love & Understanding":

But there's one thing there's just not enough of
Not enough love and understanding.

That's TWO things, Cher, you stupid bitch.

A friend of mine farted on Moby once. Long story.

A famous person who seems to enjoy having fun making music with his friends?! What?! Go swim in your money bin or do some crack instead of just living your life in a non-public-meltdown way. How dare you act relatively normal!

What he needs is a good pasty and a bit of talent.

@zibby:

I would totally fart on Moby. Right in the face. I wonder if he rides the subway. If he were seated, say, I could discreetly drop one as I waked past.

I was led to believe that Sloanies were the spawn of Sloane Crosley and Moby. But those are Sloabys.

@DavidWatts: I think it's the bald-faced (and headed) attention-whoring from The Moby that's rubbing us the wrong way...

Oh, and all of his music ever.

I guess I'm the loan-sorta fan, but last time I caught Moby on in Vegas, his show was actually pretty awesome, very high energy and the real fun was when he just played thrash metal for 5 minutes.

Please don't beat me.

@JojoSaysNo: what isn't attention-whoring at this point, though? and I don't just mean relative to the mostly famous, I mean, like, all of us. At what point does normal human behavior become a desperate shout of lookatme? And .. even if it does, isn't that a pretty logical extension of our lives right now? I mean, there're hermits, sure, and the practiced anonymous: your Jandeks or Pynchons, but ...

Coming soon: Randy Newman @ Grand Central Station.

Obligatory for above: [vids.myspace.com]

@hageesheart: My point was that, if Mobee just likes playing music with pals, he could do that in a studio or his mansion or play regular-ole shows etc etc, but coming up with some pointless, half-assed gimmick to get his photo taken reeks of insincerity.

Wanting to exchange ideas and efforts (in this instance, music) with a community of like-minded individuals is simple human nature, and those without that desire or opportunity tend to be miserable (see Bartleby the Scrivener).

But the "whore" part is the key here. The motives for exposing one's ideas and efforts can and should be taken into consideration when deciding on the merit of something.

I don't believe that everyone is an "attention whore". Humans crave and need attention, sure, that's evolutionary biology, but that doesn't make us all Mobiiee, Heidi Montag, or Julia Allison.

Whew! Back to them open caption thingys now.

Darien. Not Darrien!

@MercuryPDX: And if there's any justice, he'll be doing that bit from the post-apocalyptic Family Guy episode.

"Left foot, right foot. Left foot, right foot. Left..."

@MercuryPDX: Holy shit!

(I really hate it when comments don't come up, Gay It Warriors!!!)

If he had brought his MacBook loaded with Pro Tools and the entire Lomax Brothers Smithsonian recordings he would have attracted every tool in the tube for an impromptu rave of idiots.