Tony Pierce said he wanted to see more lists, so here this is: a list of the best PJ Harvey albums in ascending order. This excludes her collaborations with John Parrish and compilations.

8. Uh Huh Her (2004).

This was definitely a let down. It was billed as a return to the rawness of Rid of Me and Dry. It was definitely stripped down without the refinements of her previous albums. But it didn’t really strike a particular chord with anything.

7. Let England Shake (2011).

A lot of people liked this album. I thought it was nothing more than Renaissance Faire music. It won oodles of awards. I didn’t get it.

6. White Chalk (2007).

Now on to the albums I liked. This was Polly getting very experimental. Sure there were misses on this album, but what worked worked really well. Take this video of her performance of “The Mountain”, the first thing I heard of this album:

Who doesn’t love the Diamanada Galas-esque shrieking at the end of the song? I think it was the basis of that one song that I love the album so.

5. Stories from the City, Stories from the Sea (2000).

This album came at a strange time in this world of ours. The rage from the early 90’s had dissipated, and no one really knew what to do with it. 9/11 hadn’t happened yet, and no one really knew what we were getting into with W.

What scared me a little about this album was how uplifting it sounded. The lead single “Good Fortune” actually sounded happy! I was scurred.

What was also scary was how good the album was despite the general happiness. There’s an excellent duet with Thom Yorke in “The Mess We’re In”.

4. Dry (1992).

This announced the arrival of Polly Jean Harvey unto the music world. It’s fitting it started with a bomb of a d-minor chord in “Oh My Lover” which sees Polly clinging onto her love by any means necessary. There’s desperation and sorrow, but the anger brewing underneath the surface was evident. It’s not the full explosion of what was to come, but there was just enough to intrigue.

3. Is This Desire? (1998).

Holy shit this is a beautiful group of songs. We saw the desperate Polly, the angry Polly, the theatric Polly. She even went a bit experimental with John Parrish in the interim. She did a duet with her then-boyfriend Nick Cave. What next?

It was this collection of subdued songs that tried to tell a story. “Angelene” opens with slight strums of a couple of guitar strings. “Is This Desire?” ends in a whisper. There are loud moments in “Joy” and “No Love So Sweet”, but the full on rage was gone.

A lot of people described this album as “haunting.” It’s just beautiful.

2. To Bring You My Love (1995).

Polly made the big metamorphosis here. She dumped her band and reformed a new group. Instead of being stripped down and raw she decided for big makeup big costumes big theatrics. Big big big.

Everyone knew “Down by the Water.” “Billy” was a great single also. But Polly’s best song was here. “The Dancer”. It was goth. It was female. It was subversive. It was everything that was right about music at that snapshot of time.

1. Rid of Me (1993).

This is among the best album from the 1990’s. Not only is a raw burst of anger from Polly, it is her claiming her place in a man’s world. She’s the king of the world, she’s man sized, she’s blaming the snake, and don’t you wish you never ever met her.

It is rare when a collection of songs immediately knock you on your ass and make you take notice on the first listen.

First of all, the new podcast can be found at LaSportsFag.com. Go and “Like” it on Facebook or you’ll be resigned to having to get gum jobs from 80-year old women whose vaginas have fallen completely out of their bodies and into some landfill in Jersey.

Now to the rest of America outside of Southern California, you cunts can fucking freeze to death for all I care. We have had record-breaking cold here in LA. Sure in most parts of the country, 30-degree low temperatures are commonplace. Fine.

But don’t fucking project your anger on us just because your dumbass is stupid enough to live in an environment that gets to freezing on a regular basis.

I live in Los Angeles because it lacks humidity and cold, two things I can’t deal with. Sure it’s a bit more expensive to live here, but at least I don’t have to deal with the two things that are the bane of my existence. So when either of those two things touch my life, I have a bitch fit.

And you know what? When your dumbass finally wises up and moves here for an extended period of time and it gets this cold, your cunt ass will also bitch about the cold.

So fuck you.

I demand temperatures in excess of 72 degrees everyday. I demand sunshine. If I wanted cold weather, I’d live in Boston. Then again, if I wanted belligerent obnoxious assholes I’d also move to Boston. But that’s an entirely different matter.

A new year, a new podcast. There’s less music than my previous outputs and more sports. But it is just as offensive as ever.

• Fugazi – Furniture
• NHL rant
• Kendrick Lamar – Backseat Freestyle
• Crocodiles – Jet Boy Jet Girl
• Johnny Manziel rant
• Bjork – Crystalline (Omar Souleyman Remix)
• Karen Finley – Tales of Taboo (Radio Mix)
• Rape rant
• Unwound – Arboretum

I promise to get better as I get back into doing these. Leave a comment below or use the “contact” button above to correspond.

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This picture of kimchi fries really serves no other purpose than to be a picture to use.

It hasn’t been the best New Years in my life. Being a caretaker for my grandmother forced me to sit at home tending to scotch while watching television. It’s fine. Sure my Twitter and Facebook messages were bitter saying, “Fuck your New Years,” but I just thought it was funny. After all how annoying is it to see endless messages saying, “Happy New Years” or any other saccharine fake salutation for 2013?

It’s been a strange 2012, going back to Hulu for a spell and all of that. There’s also been a lot more family bitterness that has surfaced this year that makes me sound like some angst ridden teenager when I rant. The whole my-mom-is-clueless type of thing. It just sounds petty, and no one really wants to hear it.

So it’s 2013. The fucking apocalypse didn’t happen, so on we trudge. I don’t exactly know what we’re trudging on to, but I suppose it’s something. As I’m typing this, NHL players are in meetings with the NHL to try and salvage a season. Congress is remarkably trying to accomplish something, some sort of fiscal cliff thingee for which I really have had little concern.

I guess it’s time to stave off death for as long as possible. But the Clippers are the best team in the NBA and the Kings won the Stanley Cup. So what else matters?

This has been brewing for a little while. It has nothing to do with the performance of the team or anything like that. It’s me. Honestly.

I want to take the moment to say that on this day I am officially handing my fan card back to the Chicago Bears.

It’s been a good 11 years. After the Raiders left Los Angeles and I moved back here after college, the Bears were the team that captured my fandom. There were several losing years, some awful offenses, but there was a Super Bowl. Granted it was a loss, but it was something. There was Sexy Rexy, good ole Neck Beard Kyle Orton, and that ever present defense.

But right now, as my fanaticism towards individual sports teams has died across the board, I’m finally relinquishing Da Bears. It seems appropriate that it comes on the day the team fires head coach Lovie Smith.

I just don’t see the point of having an irrational love towards a team, especially one that I adopted more recently than other teams I used to root for (i.e. the Dodgers). I’ve never seen them play live. I don’t have paraphernalia.

So that’s it. Good luck to the Bears in the future. I will continue to watch your exploits on Sundays on the Red Zone Channel. But I’m done.

I have had some pretty strange dreams in the past. I’ve killed an evil 2 year old girl who would kill people amusingly with her thoughts. I’ve had my head sawed off by the Russian mafia. Here’s another one from this morning:

I went with a couple of friends into a cave to meet up with Satan. One of the guys had seen Satan before and was completely stoked. His ultimate goal was to be Satan’s boyfriend. They’ve obviously played before, and Satan seemed pretty happy that he came back.

Satan sat across from us, about 100 feet away, and began an incantation. My friend was flat on his back in an orgasmic trance that crescendoed into a climax. The climax was quite startling and had me and my other friend intrigued.

But it wasn’t going to be easy.

Satan looked at my other friend, sneered and launched a throwing knife right in his gut. I knew it wasn’t going to be easy, but I didn’t think it would come to this. Satan also launched a knife at me, but I batted it away harmlessly which seemed to make Satan mad.

He brandished a crossbow loaded with about 15 arrows, aimed it at me and said that I had to pay. I curled up covering my face with my hands thinking and wishing that none of the arrows hit my face. Just as Satan released the arrows, I eased up knowing it was inevitable I was going to get shot and be in a lot of pain. As my hands left my face all 15 arrows pierced by hands, 9 in my left and 6 in my right.

I sat there stunned. I have arrows sticking in me. There was blood dripping from my hands.

I heard Satan laughing, not the evil laugh that you think of, but just a satisfied and amused laugh. And that annoyed me. This was clearly some form of initiation and hazing which I think is just plain stupid.

So I got up and walked away, the arrows still in my hands. It took a while before I reached civilization, and once I did I sat down and carefully started removing the arrows. Friends came up and asked me what the hell happened. I didn’t respond. I was busy concentrating on removing the arrows without leaving any splinters in my hand.

I woke up and had to pee.

After days of wet weather, I’m getting a little sick of it.

I just bought a new television, a 32″ LCDLEDHDTVExtravaganzaMumboJumbo. This is the first ever television I have purchased myself.

When I was a wee child I had a Radio Shack television that lasted me until my junior year of high school. Then I received a Magnavox from my mom’s boyfriend at the time that has served me until now. I also had a large television that I used to use in my living room that my ex-roomie’s grandmother had given us and that I inherited.

It’s the first HD television I have owned, and it really does make a difference.

To round out my new entertainment area, I also purchased a WiFi Blu-Ray player. So I guess I’m fully connected or something.

One thing I noticed is what a scam HDMI cables are. $100 for one? Bitch, please.

I went a little crazy on Sunday: I bought three pairs of boots. Actually it was originally supposed to be two.

Perhaps it’s the coming of cold weather, but I’ve been looking almost exclusively at boots recently. There were times when I had Pumas, Chuck Ts, Adidas and all sorts of trendy sneakers, but now it’s all about the boots.

I was on Zappos last week and decided I wanted to get these Type Z Timmy boots that I had worn completely out. I got them in 2008 and had to retire them over the summer since there were holes in the soles. Heh. I rhymed.

The second pair are Bedstu Centrales that just looked neat. I have another pair of Bedstus that are very comfortable but I don’t wear very often because it involves have to lace up. I’m lazy. These two boots both have zippers.

I got confirmation on Sunday from Madd that those were good and went ahead and purchased them. We decided to kill the day at Santa Monica Place, and at Bloomingdales I came upon the boots seen on top: Rogue’s Tall Zip Moto Boots. I actually tried them in the store, but they only had size 11s. They looked nice, they felt nice and I just about cried that they didn’t have my size.

I know it sounds melodramatic and petty considering everything that’s going on in this world. But when you spend your life dismissing shoes left and right and finally find the perfect boot in your hands, all of the sudden you become a self-absorbed monster. I plodded on grumbling about the boots.

I decided to throw caution to the wind and go home and buy those boots in my size.

So tomorrow the two boots from Zappos will be delivered to my door while the Rogue boots will arrive on Tuesday. I’m excited.

Maybe I’m trying to get all militant for the sex workers of the world?

Four years ago, I threw some cold water on the celebration that ensued here in California. The nation had just elected its first non-white President by a considerable margin, but the state of California voted to ban gay marriage.

Last night Americans reelected President Barack Obama and Californians raised taxes to the rich to fund schools and revise that idiotic three-strikes law. All of that sounds good, but they continued to assault the rights of sex workers in the state by passing Proposition 35 and Los Angeles County Proposition B.

I’ll give some credit to the people who wrote up Prop 35. They titled it “Californians Against Sexual Exploitation Act” which upon a cursory glance sounds good and everybody should vote for that.

With the vague definitions used in this initiative, your normal run-of-the-mill sex worker could be locked up and forced to register as a sex offender. And the provisions of this initiative will force all registered sex offenders to report all of their activity on the internet.

All of this to protect human sex trafficking victims who more often than not will not testify against their traffickers, and which this initiative does nothing to help provide more support. Nothing about this initiative focuses on the victims.

The media outlets that endorsed this proposition did so with some reservations. We can all agree that human sex trafficking is bad. But the gnarly bits of this initiative is where there is a lot of problems. And if something is flawed, why vote for it? Let’s get it right from the get-go.

And in LA County, voters have now forced porn actors to wear condoms. Never mind that the porn industry has the most stringent testing requirements. But now we want to spend our tax money to force them to wear condoms?

Some people say that if people in porn wear condoms, it will spread the message of using protection. Think about how stupid that statement is especially since almost no productions that actually uses condoms show the condoms being put on. Yeah, great education potential there.

It’s easy for people to force their will on sex workers because it’s seen as degrading and is often illegal. No one is forcing all women to get mastectomies because of how bad the breast cancer crisis is. We still haven’t outlawed cigarettes even though it’s proven to cause lung cancer. No one is forcing men to have anal sex even though studies have shown that stimulation of the prostate significantly reduce the chances of prostate cancer.

This is an all out assault on sex workers, and it’s time for them to fight back.