Sprehe, a company that has all manner of frozen delicacies on offer, has come up with a new product it calls “Obama Fingers.” Far from being real digits, though, the “fingers” in question are “tender, juicy pieces of chicken breast, coated and fried,” as the product packaging claims.

Fried chicken, in other words. With a curry dip.

Gulp.

The company claims it didn’t know some might find Obama Fingers a touch on the offensive side, and we’re inclined to believe them—this feels like stupidity more than overt racism. Why else would they stick the Golden Gate Bridge in the background? Still, you have to imagine that at one of those Obama Finger meetings—and there must have been dozens to come up with such a groundbreaking product—somebody had an inkling this was a bad idea. Maybe it wasn’t a fully formed thought, maybe they were just nervous to break the exciting outside-the-kiste thinking, but somebody had to know this wasn’t right. Right?

For all intents and purposes, the Condo Fucks’ Fuckbook is the 13th studio LP from Yo La Tengo, even if the Matador Records website for the “band” never mentions the words “Yo,” “La” or “Tengo.”

There are plenty of clues to go around. One: The name “Condo Fucks” comes from a fake promo card Matador printed up and inserted in Yo La Tengo’s 1997 classic, I Can Hear the Heart Beating as One. Two: In 1990, Yo La Tengo released a covers disc titled Fakebook (the name comes from musical sheets that outline the bare essentials of a tune—melody, chords, lyrics—and allow performers to learn new songs on the fly). Three: The Fucks website lists the band’s members as “Georgia Condo (drums), Kid Condo (guitar) and James McNew (bass)”; the members of Yo La Tengo happen to be Georgia Hubley, Ira Kaplan and James McNew.

And, four (as if you needed it): Recording a half-hour’s worth of fuzzy, Nuggets-like garage rock covers under an in-joke assumed name and then making a short “documentary” about the impact of the fake band on the music scene of southern Connecticut, well, that just seems like the kind of thing Yo La Tengo would do.

“I have no intention of explaining things more fully,” Yo La Tengo guitarist/singer Ira Kaplan told me in an interview two years ago, and that sentiment runs all through the band’s history: the Spanish-language group name (“I have it”), the beguiling album titles (I Am Not Afraid of You and I Will Beat Your Ass), the jokey songs (“Georgia Vs. Yo La Tengo,” “The Story of Yo La Tango”). This is a group unafraid to leave its audience guessing, and they never seem interested in clearing things up for definitive interpretation.

So Condo Fucks. Fuckbook. Yeah, it kind of makes sense.

And as a fun, raucous shrugging-off of the pressure that comes with being an Important Indie Rock Band, Fuckbook succeeds tremendously. This thing sounds as if the band flipped through its record collection, picked out 11 tunes it thinks are pretty swell, spent 15 minutes learning the rudiments of each song, then hit the studio for a first-take run-through.

The production is full of distortion and in-the-red feedback, you can barely even make out what the singers are singing most of the time, and yet this thing still gets over, thanks mostly to its low-budget, on-the-fly, fuck-it-let’s-make-a-record charm. Fuckbook is first and foremost the sound of a band having fun. And in an indie rock environment where we so often measure artists by their willingness to engage with Big Themes, Yo La Tengo’s simple enthusiasm for its excellent source material — the Small Faces, The Beach Boys, Richard Hell and the Voidoids — shines.

Is Fuckbook a “better” album than other well-reviewed indie albums put out this year? If you define “better” as “bigger” or “timeless” or “more important,” probably not. That said, I bet you’ll pull it up on your iPod more often than Merriweather Post Pavilion.

Fuckbook hits stores next Tuesday, March 24. Here is the pseudo-documentary Matador put together with the fake backstory of the Fucks:

You can download an mp3 of the Fucks’ “What’cha Gonna Do About It” to your mobile audio device of choice at the bottom of this page.

Cooper Levey-Baker is the editor of Creative Loafing in Sarasota, FL.

Many people are vaguely aware that a certain Hannibal once crossed the Alps in one of the most daring military feats in history. But few are familiar with what this accomplishment entailed, beyond the titanic will and abundance of elephants. According to Livy and other ancient historians, the Carthaginian commander, whose invasion of Rome took him over both the Alps and the Pyrenees, faced resistance not only from the natural elements but also from local tribal insurgents. Hannibal, however, was not just a brilliant military strategist, but also an acute observer of human behavior who used a combination of diplomacy, bribery, and conquest to ensure passage. Unlike some modern invaders, he prepared thoroughly for military and political contingencies. Before embarking on his Alpine journey, Hannibal dispatched scouts not only to survey the landscape but also to solicit the help of the local Gallic chiefs. He plied them with gifts and played on their shared hatred of the Romans. In other words, while Hannibal did not shrink from beating back some of the uncooperative locals in his army’s path, he avoided a full-fledged insurgency by engaging local leaders, probing the language and customs of the people he encountered, and working to find common interests. Eventually Hannibal recruited upwards of forty thousand Gauls to join the fight against the Romans in Italy—a true coalition of the willing.

The peripatetic Mr. Pitt went to DC last week to drum up support for Make It Right, the non-profit he founded to (re)build homes for survivors of  Katrina. His goal? To ”expand this idea of affordability and sustainability because we think we have a model that works.” All talk? Not at all. Make It Right has secured sponsorship for 90 of its 150 planned homes, and is already finished building 6. Brad has pulled together a fiercely talented team, including Trevor Neilson (philanthrophy consultant to Bono, Bill Gates, Bill Clinton, and Richard Branson) and architects from around the world. By which we mean architects from around the whole world, not just where Broadway runs through Soho and Berlin. Nigerian architect David Adjaye and the Ghanaian firm Constructs round out a genuinely diverse roster of rock stars. So. How can you help a 45-year-old millionaire make 60 more homes? Donate $5. That’s it. It took us 2 clicks and 20 seconds, and our name appeared on the list of donors on the homepage. (Speaking of..have a look around the site if you haven’t already. The houses look terrific.)

Alcohol grants us the freedom to be our wildest, most wanton selves. For me, showing someone just how much I like them, letting filthy words and fantasies come out of my mouth, risking rejection once daylight approaches, is intimidating when sober. It requires setting aside all the bullshit about how I’ll be perceived or possibly judged. Acting the slutty, spanking-crazed nymphomaniac isn’t always cool. In this case, though, I’d say it was just about perfect.

Read the whole article, and a solid counterpoint.

OK. Not really. But we’re saying. How many organic food companies can you brand with girls’ names? First there was Barbara’s, then there was Rachel’s, then there was Annie’s, now there is Stacy’s. What is it about a woman’s name that cries out “organic food”? Anyone who shopped at Whole Foods when the economy was healthy can summon up the visual: health-conscious mother slinging canvas tote—the 21st century version of the smiling (Caucasian) women who used to hawk sugary cereal on TV. Ironically, the women who started these organic brands couldn’t be further from the women who swear by them. (Note: anyone who still shops at Whole Foods needs to run a location search on Trader Joe’s.)

Barbara’s Bakery was founded in 1971, long before the current organic “movement” began. Barbara, a 17-year-old baker in the Bay Area (which, one might argue, is an organic movement unto itself) made bread. Barbara’s now makes the best cereal on earth (it’s called Puffins. It’s like crack). Welsh dairy farmer Rachel Rowlands began selling her (supernaturally delicious) yogurt to British supermarkets in 1985. Her family founded their dairy farm in 1942. Annie’s Homegrown was founded in 1989 by Annie Withey, another organic farmer who concocted her wildly popular macaroni-and-cheese at home. Stacy’s Pita Chips was founded by a Boston social worker who opened a sandwich cart in the late 90s. While customers were waiting in line, Stacy thought to serve them toasted bread.

Resolved. Organic bakeries are named after women because women founded them — not because women buy more organic food. Or do they? According to one study, women are more likely to buy organic food, but men are more willing to pay higher prices for it. Men’s Fitness has a nice little guide to which organic foods are worth paying more for (including 100% natural peanut butter. No surprise). And men should be paying more for organic food: it could be increasing their sperm count. Apparently, all that chemically grown food you’re eating could be threatening your swimmers, gentlemen. Just stay the hell away from soymilk. Even if it’s called Joe’s.

Debbie Downer’s been putting in work. According to a study of single Australian women, depressed women have a third more sex than happy ones. A THIRD. Happy women reported having sex once a week on average—while women suffering from mild to moderate depression had “more of everything.” Quote: “It was more sex and more of everything from kissing to petting, foreplay and intercourse. We knew this anecdotally from clinical samples but this is the first time it’s been shown in research.” Remarkable.

Dr. Sabura Allen says depressed women tend to have more casual sex, and use sex to make themselves feel more secure. OK. Fair enough. But we wondered: could it be that depressed women are drawn to sex because their bodies “know” that sex alleviates depression (sort of the way the body craves salt when it’s dehydrated, because it “knows” that salt prompts liquid retention)? Is sex the new Prozac? (No, wait. Sarafem is the new Prozac. But you know what we mean.)

It was a good thought. Sex, it seems, does not cure depression—at least, not in the long term. At least, not if you use condoms. See, this is where it gets complicated with sex and depression. No one seems to know for sure what’s up. Some researchers claim that unprotected sex can help reduce depression for women. Our first question, reading this, was: were those researchers men? But apparently they’re on to something. There’s a hormone called prostoglandin, found only in semen, that when absorbed in a woman’s body can modulate her hormones. We love it. Risk of STDs and unwanted pregnancy aside, unprotected sex (with men) might calm a woman down. Of course, others suggest that in both men and women, sex can actually cause depression. Our first question, reading this, was: WTF? We’ve always found the lack of sex depressing, not sex itself. But those in the know call this post-coital blues, the come-down after the hormonal high induced by coming. Meanwhile, everyone seems to agree that anti-depressants can depress the libido for both the sexes—except for the people who say “except for Wellbutrin.” And the people who treat depressed sex drive in women with anti-depressants.

So what’s the story? If you’re already feeling down, should you not have sex for fear of post-coital blues? If you want to have sex, should you not take anti-depressants for fear of diminished sex drive? If you’re experiencing diminished sex drive, should you take anti-depressants, even if you’re not already feeling down? The Stimulist has no hard answers for you. Unless, of course, you’re down under.