TORTOISE

Whether you sided with critics early on dubbing them a founder of post-rock or you chronicle their style as a continuance of prog-rock along with the others, Tortoise has proven that they're not so easily classifiable. We hit up multi-string instrumentalist Doug McCombs with a series of questions before he embarked on their Northeast and European tours.

WHHOOOO'S IDEA?

IF YOU WENT ON THE INTERNET last week, you ran into a phenomenon called Hungover Owls, which is sourced from inside the offices of the Weekly Dig. Just in case you did not go on the internet: Hungover Owls is a Tumblr.com account that posts pictures of owls and uses the premise—that they're hungover—to inspire a caption.

THE DIG'S QUALITY-OF-LIFE INDEX

Local weather forecasters readily admit to having no clue what the hell is going on tell us to expect another heat wave this week, followed by a g&$@#$n hurricane by the name of Earl. Earl began as tropical storm Cletus ... somewhere in East Memphis, Tenn. PLUS 92

ANDY, BRYCE AND BRIAN (AND FRIEND)

TUNING UP IN THEIR BAND VAN BEFORE CHALK TALK'S SET AT CHARLIE'S KITCHEN, MONDAY 8.30.10

Did you borrow your mom's van for the show or what?

Brian: We bought this van from my mom!

BRIAN

NOT NEARLY DRUNK ENOUGH AFTER SEEING THE SCISSOR SISTERS AT THE HOUSE OF BLUES, SATURDAY 8.28.10

So I think the most important question should come first: Which sister would you like to scissor?

Ana Matronic. I know I'm gay, but she's just fierce.

PERSON, OVERLY OBSESSIVE PERHAPS, NEBBISHLY OCCUPIED OVER DEBATING, AT LENGTH, EXCREMENT

Here's my problem: I love women. I love the way they look, I love the way they move, I love the way they sound. I like to see them naked. But the idea of actually interacting with women—trying to engage them in intelligent conversation without coming off as absolutely leotarded—absolutely fucking terrifies me. I'm a virgin at 30. I've never had a girlfriend. I've never been on a date. I've never even had a conversation with a woman that lasted longer than a couple of minutes and wasn't completely superficial and forced.

TO THE ORGANIZERS OF THE BOSTON GREENFEST

To the organizers of the Boston GreenFest:

I made the mistake of offering to work in my company's kiosk at this year's Boston GreenFest at Government Center. The first thing I noticed upon arriving was that there were no recycling bins ... anywhere ... at all.

END OF SUMMER SIPPING

Ah, Labor Day—a time to relax, celebrate and have one last weekend of parties before summer turns into fall once again. We see this weekend as one last time to play, but Labor Day as a holiday has its roots in the labor movement of the late 19th century.

CROSSING NON-SIGNALIZED LOCATIONS

Fluffy car boots, Zen parking tickets ... must be Cambridge

Cantabrigians, take heed: Next time you're rudely roused from your ear-budded, locally sourced latte revelry by the mere sight of that orange envelope of doom wedged beneath the wiper of your Prius, take a moment to consider the plight of the misunderstood parking control officer. Like earthworms, the IRS and the Uncanny X-Men, the Department of Traffic, Parking and Transportation (with its appropriately ominous anagram, TPT) performs an absolutely essential task and receives nothing but fear and hatred in return, their unwavering devotion met with rude gestures and open threats.

THE TILLMAN STORY

After all it was you and me

In Barry Levinson's 1997 film Wag the Dog, top-level spin doctor Conrad Brean, played by Robert De Niro, is hired to distract the nation from a sex scandal in the White House. Part of the plan is to hire movie producer Dustin Hoffman and create a fictional war hero named Sergeant William Schumann (Woody Harrelson) to represent a war in Albania and rally the nation behind the cause.