It's one more random than 10!
Last Friday, at 4 am, I woke up drunk for the first time ever. Surprising considering how many times I've retired with the room spinning, but I also usually don't pound shots of Jaeger when I have a 7 am flight to catch. I keep living but the learning part continues to elude me.
It was all my coworkers fault. Well, and my fault for not refusing the drinks they kept buying for me. Also, there may be video of me screaming "Crazy Train" at the top of my lungs at a bar. If it actually surfaces I will post it here, because I value entertaining you more than preserving my dignity.
1) "No Speak No Slave," The Black Crowes. The Southern Harmony and Musical Companion is severely underrated. The bar where said "Crazy Train" antics took place was a piano bar with a rock edge, and the band played "Remedy" at one point. The fired-up (or should I say lit up?) crowd kind of went silent while I was belting out, "Can I have a rem-e-dy?!!" One of my coworkers said, "What is this?" The question made me sad.
2) "Goin' Against Your Mind," Built to Spill. Normally, eight-and-a-half minutes of the same simple drum beat would get on my nerves, but it's the flying buttress anchoring the wall of guitars that make this song eight-and-a-half minutes of awesome.
3) "Sovereignty," Japandroids. I just downloaded their Post-Nothing album off eMusic yesterday and have already played it a half-dozen times. Sometimes an album grabs me by the throat from the first play. This is one of those albums: A tsunami of fuzzed-up guitars, a drummer who treats his kit like it owes him money, and vocals that sound like someone who's trying to go off his meds. All from two dudes. Good, good stuff.
4) "Out of the Sinking," Paul Weller. It is tough, tough, tough to age gracefully in rock music, especially if you were once a punk. Weller's done just about as good as job as anybody. Sure, I'd rather play some old Jam than The Style Council or his solo stuff, but he still seems relevant and good. As opposed to, say, Johnny Rotten.
5) "Don't Damn Me," Guns N' Roses. Speaking of irrelevance. The Lovely Becky wrote a Facebook update that said, "I declare that all bad sequels should be removed from memory, and their storylines restored to the end of the last decent movie in the series." I think that should be applied to Chinese Democracy.
6) "Seek and Destroy," Metallica. I have been on a metal kick lately, probably because I started working out regularly again. Sullen indie kids and boopy eighties synth-pop (both the real thing and the new synthetic synth-pop) are fine and dandy for getting through another day in the home office. But when I'm sweating to the oldies, my oldies tend to wear studded leather.
7) "Waitress in the Sky," The Replacements. Paul Westerberg's kiss-off to airline attendants. Except now, with all the cutbacks to inflight service, there not even really waitresses any more. More like soft drink machines that can show you what to do in the event of a water landing.
Speaking of flying, when I had to wake up still soused for my flight, I got the tempting option to upgrade to first class for $90. I stood at the kiosk mulling it over, wondering if $45/hour was worth a big fat seat and a chance to sleep. I decided to be fiscally prudent and kept my coach class, which resulted in me sitting in row 30 next to the engine, squeezed into my seat like one of Dolly Parton's boobs into a B-cup. The lesson: always take the first-class upgrade. I spent the whole flight not only being tired and cramped, but pissed at myself for not making the obviously correct choice.
8) "Here Comes Your Man," The Pixies. It has the simple, carefree happiness that the best teenage memories are made of.
9) "Let My Love Open the Door," Pete Townshend. This isn't just a great pop song, it's so wonderfully crafted: The synths, the layers of vocals, the sprinkling of rock to keep it from being to schmaltzy. On my Cannot Be Overplayed list.
10) "I Shot the Sherriff," Bob Marley and the Wailers. Normally, a great song to listen to. However, reggae reminds me of summer, and this is reminding me that we haven't had a fucking summer all summer long. Two hundred inches of snow and now I'm getting 45-degree highs on June 1 and 65-degree forecasts for August 1? I never thought I'd ask for this, but pretty pretty please, can I have just one week where I sweat my balls off?
11) "Blood on the Motorway," DJ Shadow. Some of the trippiest trip-hop around. Nine-minutes of sampled yumminess that even includes a smatter of cheesy vocals four minutes in. Perhaps some day we'll see prog-hop?
Have a great weekend, and I hope you won't require a sweatshirt to stay warm.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
What's infecting our attempts at health care reform?
Special extra phlegmy edition!
11) Rectal McConnellyps
10) Fickle Sell Anemia
9) Bi-Partisan Disorder
8) Hyper Metasticizing Obstructions
7) Airborne Swine Flu
6) Blue Dog Rabies (warning: extra contagious during election season)
5) African-American Distraction Disorder
4) Hypocommunism (also known as Frantic European Allergic Reaction)
3) Irritable Boehner Symdrome
2) Drug-Company Induced Psychosis
1) Chronic Fucktardedness (we've got a fever, and the only prescription is more Krugman)
11) Rectal McConnellyps
10) Fickle Sell Anemia
9) Bi-Partisan Disorder
8) Hyper Metasticizing Obstructions
7) Airborne Swine Flu
6) Blue Dog Rabies (warning: extra contagious during election season)
5) African-American Distraction Disorder
4) Hypocommunism (also known as Frantic European Allergic Reaction)
3) Irritable Boehner Symdrome
2) Drug-Company Induced Psychosis
1) Chronic Fucktardedness (we've got a fever, and the only prescription is more Krugman)
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
What are we being asked during our confirmation hearings?
Special extended that's-mighty-white-of-you edition!
12) Why do you hate white people?
11) Let me elaborate: why do you hate white guys?
10) Given that 106 white men have served on the Supreme Court, do you feel that you're receiving preferential treatment?
9) Related question: if Latinas are so wise, how come they have never served on the Supreme Court?
8) What do you hate more: white men or fetuses?
7) Are you afraid of our Caucasian-ness? Our natural non-heat?
6) If Rush Limbaugh and Pat Buchanan were trapped in an overturned car that was on fire, do you think you would be able to find the superhuman strength to flip the car over and get them out, or would your bias against white men prevent that?
5) Same question, but with Selma Hayek and Penelope Cruz in the car.
4) If you were a tree, would you be the kind of tree that would let a white family build a house out of her?
3) If you had a cat trapped in a tree, would you let a white firefighter get the cat out of the tree? Follow up question: what color is your cat?
2) We noticed that you're wearing a white cast on your ankle. Do you find plaster racist? What about white bones?
1) Why are you so obsessed with race?
12) Why do you hate white people?
11) Let me elaborate: why do you hate white guys?
10) Given that 106 white men have served on the Supreme Court, do you feel that you're receiving preferential treatment?
9) Related question: if Latinas are so wise, how come they have never served on the Supreme Court?
8) What do you hate more: white men or fetuses?
7) Are you afraid of our Caucasian-ness? Our natural non-heat?
6) If Rush Limbaugh and Pat Buchanan were trapped in an overturned car that was on fire, do you think you would be able to find the superhuman strength to flip the car over and get them out, or would your bias against white men prevent that?
5) Same question, but with Selma Hayek and Penelope Cruz in the car.
4) If you were a tree, would you be the kind of tree that would let a white family build a house out of her?
3) If you had a cat trapped in a tree, would you let a white firefighter get the cat out of the tree? Follow up question: what color is your cat?
2) We noticed that you're wearing a white cast on your ankle. Do you find plaster racist? What about white bones?
1) Why are you so obsessed with race?
Thursday, July 09, 2009
Summer Siesta
Real life (does anybody remember real life?) will be intruding for a couple of weeks, so posting will be (more) sporadic than usual until the week of July 27. In the meantime, I hope you are enjoying your summer as much as I am.
Yes, that's a beach. With sun and everything. In da UP. It's not all snowshoes and animal pelts here.
Yes, that's a beach. With sun and everything. In da UP. It's not all snowshoes and animal pelts here.
Tuesday, July 07, 2009
Top Ten Tuesdays: How are we improving our relations with Russia?
10) Playing The Scorpions "Winds of Change" during negotiations.
9) Having Obama and Putin star in Lethal Weapons, a buddy-pic about two world leaders who couldn't be more different trying to reduce nuclear arms. (Featuring Joe Pesci as Leo, the wacky translator!)
8) Offering Putin a George W. Bush whoopie cushion that says "nookular" when sat on.
7) Getting drunk on Stoli and crank calling China.
6) Asking for Russian expertise in constructing a better gulag for our detainees.
5) Agreeing to let former Soviet republics join NATO, but granting the Russian army visitation rights on odd weekends.
4) Securing Russian promise to subject dissident journalists only to food poisoning.
3) Accepting Russian apology for Yakov Smirnoff while offering official American apology for Red Dawn.
2) Getting on all fours behind Iran while Russia pushes.
1) Offering them Alaska for free if they agree to take Sarah Palin with them.
9) Having Obama and Putin star in Lethal Weapons, a buddy-pic about two world leaders who couldn't be more different trying to reduce nuclear arms. (Featuring Joe Pesci as Leo, the wacky translator!)
8) Offering Putin a George W. Bush whoopie cushion that says "nookular" when sat on.
7) Getting drunk on Stoli and crank calling China.
6) Asking for Russian expertise in constructing a better gulag for our detainees.
5) Agreeing to let former Soviet republics join NATO, but granting the Russian army visitation rights on odd weekends.
4) Securing Russian promise to subject dissident journalists only to food poisoning.
3) Accepting Russian apology for Yakov Smirnoff while offering official American apology for Red Dawn.
2) Getting on all fours behind Iran while Russia pushes.
1) Offering them Alaska for free if they agree to take Sarah Palin with them.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Top Ten Tuesdays: How are we celebrating U.S. troop pullouts from our cities?
Special kinda sorta free edition!
10) Arranging naked detainees to spell out "FREEDOM."
9) Firing guns jubilantly in the air, then aiming them at attacking predator drone that's mistaken us for insurgents.
8) Bidding U.S. Army bon voyage as they head toward Iranian border.
7) Grabbing random Iraqi woman to kiss in the street, before being stoned to death by outraged mob.
6) Moving ahead of Afghanistan in the U.S.-Occupied Nations Power Poll.
5) Setting off Improvised Explosive Fireworks.
4) Holding a Not Quite Independence Day Sale at Bagdad Mernard's (where we're on a jihad—to save you big money!)
3) Attending Beach Boys concert in Kirkuk.
2) Having a neighborhood barbeque and talking about how we should get back to focusing our hatred on the Zionists.
1) Celebrating very quietly inside where it's safe.
10) Arranging naked detainees to spell out "FREEDOM."
9) Firing guns jubilantly in the air, then aiming them at attacking predator drone that's mistaken us for insurgents.
8) Bidding U.S. Army bon voyage as they head toward Iranian border.
7) Grabbing random Iraqi woman to kiss in the street, before being stoned to death by outraged mob.
6) Moving ahead of Afghanistan in the U.S.-Occupied Nations Power Poll.
5) Setting off Improvised Explosive Fireworks.
4) Holding a Not Quite Independence Day Sale at Bagdad Mernard's (where we're on a jihad—to save you big money!)
3) Attending Beach Boys concert in Kirkuk.
2) Having a neighborhood barbeque and talking about how we should get back to focusing our hatred on the Zionists.
1) Celebrating very quietly inside where it's safe.
Friday, June 26, 2009
Friday Random 11
It's one more random than 10!
What a weird week. Ed McMahon, Farah Fawcett, and Michael all going in the same week? And mixed in, Iran has a near-revolt and a state governor just skips town for a few days to go end things with his Argentinean mistress. It's a good thing it's been sunny here, because if it was cloudy I'd say there was a 30% chance of raining frogs.
Jackson's death is one of those mixed bag situations, because even if you believe he was innocent of child molestation, he certainly had a very bizarre relationship with children. And most of his problems were of his own making. At the same time, the guy was predestined to be weird. His father is Zeus in the pantheon of Asshole Showbiz Parents, which certainly got him off on the wrong foot. He had the rare occurrence of being a huge child star and then having an adult career that dwarfed that stardom. A lot of child stars, if they avoid flaming out completely, often get a chance to sit back, come to grips with that fame, and make sense of it. Jackson's career got shot out of a cannon into a rocket that landed inside a starship taking off for another galaxy. He achieved a level of fame where even Jesus might go, "Hey, you guys are kind of freaking me out right now."
That story trumped the weirdest political scandal I've ever seen: Where in the World Is Governor Mark Sanford? Most political sex scandals, while sordid or sad, are not necessarily surprising. Let's face it, Clinton always looked like a horndog, and that's also a dominant gene in the Kennedy family. Meanwhile, with your Larry Craigs and David Vitters, it's always the guys yelling the loudest about family values who are reaching under the stall for a handy or paying someone to diaper them. However, they almost always either use their power for sex or keep their sexual escapades secret to preserve their power. Sanford walked off the job like he was a busboy quitting his night shift at Denny's instead of a 2012 presidential hopeful quitting his political career, all to see his mistress in another hemisphere. It's so strange I wouldn't believe it if it was fictional, although it reminds me of the Seinfeld episode where Russell Dalrymple quits his NBC job to join Greenpeace in order to impress Elaine.
Next thing you know, conservatives who previously demonized all Muslims as the enemy or joked about bombing Iran will be saying things like, "We're all Neda now." Oh, wait....
Okay music, take me away....
1) "The E Street Shuffle," Bruce Springsteen. I don't usually associate The Boss with "funky," but the burbling keyboards and jazzy horns make this song born to groove.
2) "Judy Is a Punk," The Ramones. No other band ever did more with less.
3) "Long Distance Runaround," Red House Painters. When Mark Kozalek does a cover, he really makes the song his own. This version is about as distant from the original Yes version as you can get without rapping or making it a country song. Couldn't find a video or audio, which is a shame.
4) "Gone for Good," The Shins. I used to hate country music, because like most people, I associated all country music with the Nashville sound, the ten-gallon, platinum blonde, sprayed bangs, consider-us-for-your-next-truck commercial sound that's a flatbed version of Starship. Then I heard Uncle Tupelo, who showed hipster doofuses like me that real country music has heart and feeling and is as American as dust bowls, illegal stills, and coal mining. Because of that, I can enjoy this fine slice of twangy Shins, with a steel guitar and lonesome lyrics that will make the hardest of hearts a little achy and/or breaky.
5) "Svo Hljótt," Sigur Rós. It never ceases to amaze me how much Sigur Rós move me, even though I have no idea what they are singing about. For all I know, they're singing, "Hey fatty dickface, you smell like a baboon's butt," but because they wrap it in Icelandic and reverbed guitars, I'm sitting here gushing about how beautiful it is. And let's face it, if I knew they were singing "Hey fatty dickface, you smell like a baboon's butt," I'd probably like them even more.
6) "Magic Man," Heart. They pack so much Seventies into five-and-a-half minutes: sex, sleaze, adolescent rebellion, drug use, hot guitar solos, and cheezy synths. It's like the musical of "Stuff White People Like: 1976." Speaking of which: can you imagine a time when someone makes a musical out of a blog? It will happen, but if it does, I think the musical should be really short, and borrow a bunch of ideas from other musicals, and then let the audience shout new lyrics in between songs.
7) "Pinball Wizard," The Who. The bridge between Old Who and New Who. It has the catchy spunk of the classic 60s Who singles, but with a sound that had hit the weight room on the way to becoming the buff Who of the 70s. Also a Top 10 Iconic Guitar Riff—which should be a VH1 Classic show, by the way. Sixty minutes of D-List nerds doing a capella renditions of the riffs while talking about how they used to air guitar these songs in their underwear. Tell me Judah Friedlander wouldn't leap at the opportunity to be on that. He could make a hat with each riff phonetically imprinted on it: Dum---dum---dum----dum---dum dum dum dum dumdumdumdum. Although he'd need some bigger hats.
8) "God," John Lennon. The last entertainment celebrity to get the level of death coverage that Michael Jackson will get. Definitely at the top of my Top Five Most Tragic Musical Deaths, because Lennon was still going strong and probably would have kept going strong for decades. He was one of those people who I don't think would have ever run out of creative juice or become maudlin or nostalgic in his old age.
9) "Sunshine," Alice in Chains. The least sunshiny song to ever use "sunshine" in the title or lyrics. Such a druggy and depressing album that my CD has track marks on it.
10) "End It on This," No Doubt. Talk about an album cover predicting a band's career arc: Gwen Stefani is plastered front and center, while the rest of the band are in the background. I imagine the photographer asked them, "Hey, fellas, could you move a little further back, like toward the horizon?"
11) "21st Century Breakdown," Green Day. The new album is American Idiot II: The Pretension Strikes Back, but they still rock enough that I enjoy them as long as I don't listen too closely. Which makes it a nice addition to the summer rotation.
Ah, that's better, and a pretty darn good dose of tunes, if I do say so myself. Have a good weekend.
What a weird week. Ed McMahon, Farah Fawcett, and Michael all going in the same week? And mixed in, Iran has a near-revolt and a state governor just skips town for a few days to go end things with his Argentinean mistress. It's a good thing it's been sunny here, because if it was cloudy I'd say there was a 30% chance of raining frogs.
Jackson's death is one of those mixed bag situations, because even if you believe he was innocent of child molestation, he certainly had a very bizarre relationship with children. And most of his problems were of his own making. At the same time, the guy was predestined to be weird. His father is Zeus in the pantheon of Asshole Showbiz Parents, which certainly got him off on the wrong foot. He had the rare occurrence of being a huge child star and then having an adult career that dwarfed that stardom. A lot of child stars, if they avoid flaming out completely, often get a chance to sit back, come to grips with that fame, and make sense of it. Jackson's career got shot out of a cannon into a rocket that landed inside a starship taking off for another galaxy. He achieved a level of fame where even Jesus might go, "Hey, you guys are kind of freaking me out right now."
That story trumped the weirdest political scandal I've ever seen: Where in the World Is Governor Mark Sanford? Most political sex scandals, while sordid or sad, are not necessarily surprising. Let's face it, Clinton always looked like a horndog, and that's also a dominant gene in the Kennedy family. Meanwhile, with your Larry Craigs and David Vitters, it's always the guys yelling the loudest about family values who are reaching under the stall for a handy or paying someone to diaper them. However, they almost always either use their power for sex or keep their sexual escapades secret to preserve their power. Sanford walked off the job like he was a busboy quitting his night shift at Denny's instead of a 2012 presidential hopeful quitting his political career, all to see his mistress in another hemisphere. It's so strange I wouldn't believe it if it was fictional, although it reminds me of the Seinfeld episode where Russell Dalrymple quits his NBC job to join Greenpeace in order to impress Elaine.
Next thing you know, conservatives who previously demonized all Muslims as the enemy or joked about bombing Iran will be saying things like, "We're all Neda now." Oh, wait....
Okay music, take me away....
1) "The E Street Shuffle," Bruce Springsteen. I don't usually associate The Boss with "funky," but the burbling keyboards and jazzy horns make this song born to groove.
2) "Judy Is a Punk," The Ramones. No other band ever did more with less.
3) "Long Distance Runaround," Red House Painters. When Mark Kozalek does a cover, he really makes the song his own. This version is about as distant from the original Yes version as you can get without rapping or making it a country song. Couldn't find a video or audio, which is a shame.
4) "Gone for Good," The Shins. I used to hate country music, because like most people, I associated all country music with the Nashville sound, the ten-gallon, platinum blonde, sprayed bangs, consider-us-for-your-next-truck commercial sound that's a flatbed version of Starship. Then I heard Uncle Tupelo, who showed hipster doofuses like me that real country music has heart and feeling and is as American as dust bowls, illegal stills, and coal mining. Because of that, I can enjoy this fine slice of twangy Shins, with a steel guitar and lonesome lyrics that will make the hardest of hearts a little achy and/or breaky.
5) "Svo Hljótt," Sigur Rós. It never ceases to amaze me how much Sigur Rós move me, even though I have no idea what they are singing about. For all I know, they're singing, "Hey fatty dickface, you smell like a baboon's butt," but because they wrap it in Icelandic and reverbed guitars, I'm sitting here gushing about how beautiful it is. And let's face it, if I knew they were singing "Hey fatty dickface, you smell like a baboon's butt," I'd probably like them even more.
6) "Magic Man," Heart. They pack so much Seventies into five-and-a-half minutes: sex, sleaze, adolescent rebellion, drug use, hot guitar solos, and cheezy synths. It's like the musical of "Stuff White People Like: 1976." Speaking of which: can you imagine a time when someone makes a musical out of a blog? It will happen, but if it does, I think the musical should be really short, and borrow a bunch of ideas from other musicals, and then let the audience shout new lyrics in between songs.
7) "Pinball Wizard," The Who. The bridge between Old Who and New Who. It has the catchy spunk of the classic 60s Who singles, but with a sound that had hit the weight room on the way to becoming the buff Who of the 70s. Also a Top 10 Iconic Guitar Riff—which should be a VH1 Classic show, by the way. Sixty minutes of D-List nerds doing a capella renditions of the riffs while talking about how they used to air guitar these songs in their underwear. Tell me Judah Friedlander wouldn't leap at the opportunity to be on that. He could make a hat with each riff phonetically imprinted on it: Dum---dum---dum----dum---dum dum dum dum dumdumdumdum. Although he'd need some bigger hats.
8) "God," John Lennon. The last entertainment celebrity to get the level of death coverage that Michael Jackson will get. Definitely at the top of my Top Five Most Tragic Musical Deaths, because Lennon was still going strong and probably would have kept going strong for decades. He was one of those people who I don't think would have ever run out of creative juice or become maudlin or nostalgic in his old age.
9) "Sunshine," Alice in Chains. The least sunshiny song to ever use "sunshine" in the title or lyrics. Such a druggy and depressing album that my CD has track marks on it.
10) "End It on This," No Doubt. Talk about an album cover predicting a band's career arc: Gwen Stefani is plastered front and center, while the rest of the band are in the background. I imagine the photographer asked them, "Hey, fellas, could you move a little further back, like toward the horizon?"
11) "21st Century Breakdown," Green Day. The new album is American Idiot II: The Pretension Strikes Back, but they still rock enough that I enjoy them as long as I don't listen too closely. Which makes it a nice addition to the summer rotation.
Ah, that's better, and a pretty darn good dose of tunes, if I do say so myself. Have a good weekend.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
We Have Ways of Making You Talk, Eh?
Somewhere in Canada....
In a dark prison, a military man, COLONEL LaTRIENNE, leads a hooded, shackled prisoner down a hall.
LaTRIENNE
Welcome back to Canada, you terrorist scum.
PRISONER
Nice to be back. I'm not much of a hot weather guy, so I'm really glad to be back in a temperate climate.
LaTRIENNE
Silence! Listen, you may think you've got it easy by coming back here from Guantanamo, but you're about to learn that we Canadians are not all "please" and "thank you."
LaTrienne stops before a door and unlocks it. He pushes the prisoner into an interrogation room. Two soldiers, LEE and LIFESON, sit at a table, playing cards.
LIFESON
Ha, go fish!
LaTRIENNE
Attention!
The men drop the cards and awkwardly come to their feet and salute. LaTrienne pulls the hood off the prisoner.
LaTRIENNE
Privates Lee and Lifeson, this is Farid al-Haziz.
PRISONER
My friends call me Fred.
LEE and LIFESON
Hey, Fred.
LaTRIENNE (reaching over to twist Fred's left nipple)
Silence.
FRED
Ow!
LaTRIENNE
Men, this prisoner is a suspected terrorist, and we need to interrogate him. I want you to find out what he knows about any terrorist plans to attack Canada.
FRED
Attack Canada?
Fred, Lee, Lifeson all laugh together.
LEE
What, do they hate us for our Tim Hortons?
They laugh again, but LaTrienne twists Fred's other nipple, which silences the men.
LaTRIENNE (shoving Fred toward the privates)
Find out what he knows. Use any means necessary.
LaTrienne leaves.
Twenty minutes later, LaTrienne comes back to the door. He hears sobbing, and a voice say, "No, I don't want to talk anymore." LaTrienne smiles as he walks in. But the smile turns into a snarl when he sees Fred hugging a sobbing Lifeson.
FRED
It's okay, man, my dad was a real bastard too. Just let it out.
LaTrienne pulls them apart.
LaTRIENNE
Sacrebleu! What is this, Oprah? Now get some information out of him!
LaTrienne turns to leave, but not before turning around and twisting Fred's nipples. He laughs as Fred cries out, and then leaves.
FRED
Man, what is that guy's problem?
LEE
He's from Quebec.
Thirty minutes elapse. LaTrienne returns to the room and enters. Lee and Lifeson stand by Fred at a water-filled barrel. Fred's head is under the water.
LaTRIENNE
Ah ha! Now we are getting somewhere!
Fred pulls his head up, holding an apple with his teeth.
LIFESON
Man, Fred wins again. How can you hold your breath under water for so long?
FRED (spitting the apple out)
I had a lot of practice during my previous detention.
LaTrienne marches into the room. Fred instinctively covers his nipples.
LaTRIENNE
I am going to say this one time: I have to leave for two hours. When I return, I want to know everything this man knows. If you do not extract that information...
Lee and Lifeson lean in.
LIFESON
Go on.
LaTrienne twists his nipple.
LIFESON
Owwww. Man, Fred, you're not kidding, that really hurts.
LaTRIENNE (holding up two fingers)
Two hours. Find out everything.
LaTrienne turns around and leaves. Lee and Lifeson huddle together.
LIFESON
How are we going to make him talk? I don't want to, you know, hurt him.
LEE
I've got an idea. They say you can catch more flies with honey...
LIFESON
I thought that was bears?
LEE
Just let me handle this. (He turns to Fred.) Fred, I've got a proposal for you.
The hands on the clock begin to spin. Lee, Lifeson, and Fred play "Tom Sawyer" on Rock Band, with Fred on drums. Fred flails at the end of the song and fails.
LEE
Ha, beat you. Okay, start talking.
The hands spin again. Fred kneels on the floor with a beer bong in his mouth while Lifeson pours LaBatt's into the funnel. Fred starts to chug but can't get it all down, getting beer all over his face. The three share a hearty laugh as Fred starts talking again.
The hands spin another time. The three sit at a table playing Trivial Pursuit: Canadian Edition.
FRED
Oh, I should know this. Is it Honeymoon Suite?
LEE
No, the correct answer is Glass Tiger. You owe us some more intel.
The clock hands advance and stop. LaTrienne walks back into the room. Lee and Lifeson stand over Fred, who looks exhausted and defeated.
LaTRIENNE
So, were you successful?
LEE
Were we!
LaTRIENNE
Excellent. Tell me everything you know.
LEE
Okay, Fred here is a Pisces. He's not supposed to eat pork but he loves back bacon, he has every single SCTV episode on tape, and under extreme pressure, he'll admit to owning every Bryan Adams record. And check this out: he's from Ottawa and it turns out we once dated the same girl during the same week.
LIFESON
What are the odds, eh?
LaTRIENNE (running his hand down his face in frustration)
That's what you learned? Nothing about his plans to attack Canada?
Lifeson giggles but sees LaTrienne's face and stifles it.
LEE
Yeah, he says he's not a terrorist. Oh, but he hates hockey. That's kind of weird, eh?
LaTRIENNE (thinking)
Really? Wait here.
LaTrienne leaves the room for a moment.
LIFESON (high-fiving Lee and Fred)
Nice job.
LEE
Hey, Fred, sorry we had to get a little rough on you there.
FRED
No problem, guys.
LaTrienne returns with two hockey sticks and a puck. He gives the sticks to Lee and Lifeson.
LaTRIENNE
Privates, you have done a great job today. I think you can relax with a little floor hockey. You two versus Fred.
He tosses Fred the puck. As soon as Fred touches it, Lee and Lifeson are on him, checking and swatting with the sticks. Fred tries to escape but they pursue him off screen.
FRED
Ow, no, not with the stick!
LaTRIENNE (pulling a whistle from his pocket)
Just let me know when you're ready to talk, Fred.
Fred cries out in pain. As LaTrienne smiles, the puck flies in and hits LaTrienne in the face, knocking him to the floor.
LaTRIEENE (weakly)
I should have joined the Foreign Legion.
In a dark prison, a military man, COLONEL LaTRIENNE, leads a hooded, shackled prisoner down a hall.
LaTRIENNE
Welcome back to Canada, you terrorist scum.
PRISONER
Nice to be back. I'm not much of a hot weather guy, so I'm really glad to be back in a temperate climate.
LaTRIENNE
Silence! Listen, you may think you've got it easy by coming back here from Guantanamo, but you're about to learn that we Canadians are not all "please" and "thank you."
LaTrienne stops before a door and unlocks it. He pushes the prisoner into an interrogation room. Two soldiers, LEE and LIFESON, sit at a table, playing cards.
LIFESON
Ha, go fish!
LaTRIENNE
Attention!
The men drop the cards and awkwardly come to their feet and salute. LaTrienne pulls the hood off the prisoner.
LaTRIENNE
Privates Lee and Lifeson, this is Farid al-Haziz.
PRISONER
My friends call me Fred.
LEE and LIFESON
Hey, Fred.
LaTRIENNE (reaching over to twist Fred's left nipple)
Silence.
FRED
Ow!
LaTRIENNE
Men, this prisoner is a suspected terrorist, and we need to interrogate him. I want you to find out what he knows about any terrorist plans to attack Canada.
FRED
Attack Canada?
Fred, Lee, Lifeson all laugh together.
LEE
What, do they hate us for our Tim Hortons?
They laugh again, but LaTrienne twists Fred's other nipple, which silences the men.
LaTRIENNE (shoving Fred toward the privates)
Find out what he knows. Use any means necessary.
LaTrienne leaves.
Twenty minutes later, LaTrienne comes back to the door. He hears sobbing, and a voice say, "No, I don't want to talk anymore." LaTrienne smiles as he walks in. But the smile turns into a snarl when he sees Fred hugging a sobbing Lifeson.
FRED
It's okay, man, my dad was a real bastard too. Just let it out.
LaTrienne pulls them apart.
LaTRIENNE
Sacrebleu! What is this, Oprah? Now get some information out of him!
LaTrienne turns to leave, but not before turning around and twisting Fred's nipples. He laughs as Fred cries out, and then leaves.
FRED
Man, what is that guy's problem?
LEE
He's from Quebec.
Thirty minutes elapse. LaTrienne returns to the room and enters. Lee and Lifeson stand by Fred at a water-filled barrel. Fred's head is under the water.
LaTRIENNE
Ah ha! Now we are getting somewhere!
Fred pulls his head up, holding an apple with his teeth.
LIFESON
Man, Fred wins again. How can you hold your breath under water for so long?
FRED (spitting the apple out)
I had a lot of practice during my previous detention.
LaTrienne marches into the room. Fred instinctively covers his nipples.
LaTRIENNE
I am going to say this one time: I have to leave for two hours. When I return, I want to know everything this man knows. If you do not extract that information...
Lee and Lifeson lean in.
LIFESON
Go on.
LaTrienne twists his nipple.
LIFESON
Owwww. Man, Fred, you're not kidding, that really hurts.
LaTRIENNE (holding up two fingers)
Two hours. Find out everything.
LaTrienne turns around and leaves. Lee and Lifeson huddle together.
LIFESON
How are we going to make him talk? I don't want to, you know, hurt him.
LEE
I've got an idea. They say you can catch more flies with honey...
LIFESON
I thought that was bears?
LEE
Just let me handle this. (He turns to Fred.) Fred, I've got a proposal for you.
The hands on the clock begin to spin. Lee, Lifeson, and Fred play "Tom Sawyer" on Rock Band, with Fred on drums. Fred flails at the end of the song and fails.
LEE
Ha, beat you. Okay, start talking.
The hands spin again. Fred kneels on the floor with a beer bong in his mouth while Lifeson pours LaBatt's into the funnel. Fred starts to chug but can't get it all down, getting beer all over his face. The three share a hearty laugh as Fred starts talking again.
The hands spin another time. The three sit at a table playing Trivial Pursuit: Canadian Edition.
FRED
Oh, I should know this. Is it Honeymoon Suite?
LEE
No, the correct answer is Glass Tiger. You owe us some more intel.
The clock hands advance and stop. LaTrienne walks back into the room. Lee and Lifeson stand over Fred, who looks exhausted and defeated.
LaTRIENNE
So, were you successful?
LEE
Were we!
LaTRIENNE
Excellent. Tell me everything you know.
LEE
Okay, Fred here is a Pisces. He's not supposed to eat pork but he loves back bacon, he has every single SCTV episode on tape, and under extreme pressure, he'll admit to owning every Bryan Adams record. And check this out: he's from Ottawa and it turns out we once dated the same girl during the same week.
LIFESON
What are the odds, eh?
LaTRIENNE (running his hand down his face in frustration)
That's what you learned? Nothing about his plans to attack Canada?
Lifeson giggles but sees LaTrienne's face and stifles it.
LEE
Yeah, he says he's not a terrorist. Oh, but he hates hockey. That's kind of weird, eh?
LaTRIENNE (thinking)
Really? Wait here.
LaTrienne leaves the room for a moment.
LIFESON (high-fiving Lee and Fred)
Nice job.
LEE
Hey, Fred, sorry we had to get a little rough on you there.
FRED
No problem, guys.
LaTrienne returns with two hockey sticks and a puck. He gives the sticks to Lee and Lifeson.
LaTRIENNE
Privates, you have done a great job today. I think you can relax with a little floor hockey. You two versus Fred.
He tosses Fred the puck. As soon as Fred touches it, Lee and Lifeson are on him, checking and swatting with the sticks. Fred tries to escape but they pursue him off screen.
FRED
Ow, no, not with the stick!
LaTRIENNE (pulling a whistle from his pocket)
Just let me know when you're ready to talk, Fred.
Fred cries out in pain. As LaTrienne smiles, the puck flies in and hits LaTrienne in the face, knocking him to the floor.
LaTRIEENE (weakly)
I should have joined the Foreign Legion.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Top Ten Tuesdays: How are we going to balance the state budget?
10) Require retiring government workers to earn their pensions by surviving The Running Man challenge (California only).
9) Allow WIC to be only good for Cheez-Whiz, Funyuns, and baby formula.
8) Replace road maintenance crews with a couple of Roombas.
7) Reduce education expenses by replacing all text books with The Bible (Kansas only).
6) Charge $10 per throw for new Rod Blagojevich dunking tank (Illinois only).
5) Enact new "boner tax" (monitor required).
4) Shut down all government functions during July for new "State of Nature" month.
3) Double the ammunition tax during "State of Nature" month.
2) Offer lottery winners new lump meth payment in lieu of cash.
1) Let governor take unpaid leave of absence so we can get stimulus money while he's gone.
9) Allow WIC to be only good for Cheez-Whiz, Funyuns, and baby formula.
8) Replace road maintenance crews with a couple of Roombas.
7) Reduce education expenses by replacing all text books with The Bible (Kansas only).
6) Charge $10 per throw for new Rod Blagojevich dunking tank (Illinois only).
5) Enact new "boner tax" (monitor required).
4) Shut down all government functions during July for new "State of Nature" month.
3) Double the ammunition tax during "State of Nature" month.
2) Offer lottery winners new lump meth payment in lieu of cash.
1) Let governor take unpaid leave of absence so we can get stimulus money while he's gone.
Happy Libday
It's hard to believe it's been a year already.
A lot of times when you wish really hard for something and get it, you're a little disappointed. Either the reality isn't is good as the wish or the wish doesn't happen the way you hoped. Libby has been everything I hoped for and then some.
Even though The Lovely Becky and I went through a lot to get to this point, we wouldn't change any of it, because we couldn't be happier with how things turned out.
A lot of times when you wish really hard for something and get it, you're a little disappointed. Either the reality isn't is good as the wish or the wish doesn't happen the way you hoped. Libby has been everything I hoped for and then some.
Even though The Lovely Becky and I went through a lot to get to this point, we wouldn't change any of it, because we couldn't be happier with how things turned out.
Friday, June 19, 2009
Friday Random 11
It's one more random than 10!
Having just celebrated my fifteenth wedding anniversary with The Lovely Becky (now updating her blog again), I've been thinking a lot about the good times we've had. One of Kathleen's posts triggered a memory of the best party we ever attended. It was a couple of years after we were married, when we lived in Brooklyn and worked in Manhattan. One of our friends, P, had a really great apartment for parties, complete with a Moroccan Room, which had beads hanging in the doorway, cushions on the floor, and fez on the table in the middle of the room. P and I worked together, and one day we and some other co-workers were talking about having a party at her place. We wanted to make it a theme, and somehow we eventually settled on Bring Your Own Gimp.
We didn't expect (nor desire) people to show up in leather submissive outfits or for the party to turn into a Moroccan orgy. However, we did want to add some "atmosphere" (read: humorous weirdness) to the party by decorating with some sex toys. Specifically, we wanted to have a blow-up doll because we thought it would be funny, and with our close proximity to Times Square, it would be an easy accessory to obtain.
Or so we thought. We popped into a few adult bookstores, thinking we could drop $20 for a cheap blow-up doll. However, it appeared that the blow-up doll connoisseur had more sophisticated tastes, as the ones we found were more than $100 because they had things like vibrating motors. We tried to explain, as politely as possible, that we just wanted one for decoration, not one to marry. Finally, we found one for $40. We picked up a couple of other props, including a double-sided dildo. One of the guys, B, wanted to get a couple of ball gags, with the red ball like the ones they used in Pulp Fiction, an accessory the bookstore didn't have.
We walked around and found an S&M shop that was in the process of opening. Up to this point, we were in standard adult bookstore territory: cheap videos, mags, and the kind of adult toys you gave as gag gifts. This place was the Rolls Royce dealer for domination. Studded leather paddles, leather masks, whips, chains...displayed with safe-word seriousness. I think the clerk was amused by our deer-eyed amazement, and he helpfully showed us what the shop had in ball gags. We purchased two and returned to our regularly scheduled programming.
The other idea behind the Bring Your Own Gimp party was to dress up a little different and/or naughtier than usual. The Lovely Becky, who had long, copper-red hair at this time, wore a short black wig and a black jacket with a tasteful-yet-definitely-a-brassier bra underneath it. She looked like she could have been a sales associate at the Rolls Royce Sex Shop: professional and classy, but someone who could describe the features and benefits of a good leather paddle. She certainly did not look like the TLB everyone knew. I didn't have much in the way of naught clothes, but spiked up my hair a little and clipped an earring to my ear.
When we got to the party, the blow-up doll was hanging from the ceiling, its open mouth making a slow 360 of the room. Many of the people had not dressed up, which was disappointing, but the props were a big hit. There were a number of pictures taken with the dildo, and some more adventurous partiers even tried on the ball gags.
One of the folks at the party was Tree, a very tall marketing manager from my office. At one point, he was talking to the costumed TLB. He had seen us come in together and smooching (as young married couples do at Bring Your Own Gimp parties). However, he was sort of probing in his conversation with her, like he was verbally sweeping a minefield. Eventually, TLB mentioned something about being my wife.
"Oh my God, you're Brando's wife!" he said with surprise and relief. He had seen our wedding picture on my desk, with TLB sporting a virginal white dress and long red hair, as opposed to short black hair and come-hither jacket and bra. "I thought you were just some floozy he was with."
The party remained much more tasteful than the sex doll twirling from the ceiling, with no public hookups or key party shenanigans taking place. I had a ball gag in my mouth at one point, but that was as crazy as it got for me. After drinking into the wee hours, I left for home with The Lovely Floozy. When we talked to P the next day, she said the doll had sprung a leak and its deflated corpse had been put out to the trash.
The double-sided dildo, however, had gone missing. And not in a "ha, ha, someone took the double-sided dildo" way. It went missing in the, "Um, I think someone wanted the double-sided dildo" way. So the moral of the story is, if you're going to have sex toys at your party, make sure you lock up your didos when you're done.
1) "Yesterdays," Guns N' Roses. What I liked about these kinds of songs on Use Your Illusion was how GnR managed to channel their inner Elton John without losing their identity. Not easy to do when your last record was recorded on the Night Train.
2) "Love Buzz," Nirvana. That's what you get when you hyperventilate inside a gimp mask.
3) "Place to Be," Nick Drake. The U.P. was that place this last week. TLB and I took Libby out for a hike, soaking up the sun and the lush greens of the trees and deep blues of Lake Superior. This song sums up that feeling: sun on my face, gentle breeze blowing, and great feeling of peace and calm. Too bad I have to get out from under 12 stories of snow to get to that moment.
4) "NYC," Interpol. I miss NYC but I don't miss living there. The three years I spend there felt like living in a foreign country: exciting, exhilarating, life-changing, but never like home. If TLB and I have the money, though, we'd seriously consider retiring there. After living in the U.P., a New York winter will seem like a piece of cake, and we could find stuff to do every day. We could hop down to our local coffee place to eat bagels and read our Kindles, then hit a museum or just walk around. That's much more appealing to me than Del Boca Vista.
5) "Runaway Train," Soul Asylum. A good song that couldn't hold up under overplaying. I really liked it the first time I heard it, and then MTV and "alternative" radio tore it apart like a couple of hungry dogs.
6) "A Method, "TV on the Radio. I don't usually use "a cappella" and "awesome" in the same sentence, but I really dig this track. Just layers of vocals and some marching band drums to transfer it out of Manhattan Transfer territory. The live version is not as good, but has the added value of an amusing guy in the background going nuts on a tom tom.
7) "September Gurls," Big Star. Anyone who loves rock music should own Big Star's #1 Record/Radio City CD. Two albums of the most perfect collection of guitar-driven pop ever recorded combined on one disc. Essential (for reals, not fake All Music Guide essential).
8) "YYZ (Live)," Rush. My favorite rock instrumental of all time and, surprisingly, one of the most accessible Rush songs because Geddy doesn't sing and the song's really groovy. No, seriously, it got a funky groove to it. Stop laughing.
9) "Boys, You Won't," The Wrens. I really wish an entire Age of Middle Earth didn't pass between their album releases, even if I've gotten six years of enjoyment out of The Meadowlands.
10) "Rich Woman," Robert Plant and Alison Krauss. Really, the best stuff Plant has done since In Through the Out Door. His solo stuff was okay, and if I hear The Honeydrippers after I die, I'll know I'm in hell. However, Raising Sand shows his voice in fine form and is age-appropriate without sounding aged. I hope Mick Jagger was taking notes.
11) "Please Let Me Love You," Alan Merrill. There's a wonderful serenade quality to the song and the sound, like Merrill recorded it outside of a girl's window. A charming end to a list that began with tales of sex toy shopping.
Have a good weekend.
Having just celebrated my fifteenth wedding anniversary with The Lovely Becky (now updating her blog again), I've been thinking a lot about the good times we've had. One of Kathleen's posts triggered a memory of the best party we ever attended. It was a couple of years after we were married, when we lived in Brooklyn and worked in Manhattan. One of our friends, P, had a really great apartment for parties, complete with a Moroccan Room, which had beads hanging in the doorway, cushions on the floor, and fez on the table in the middle of the room. P and I worked together, and one day we and some other co-workers were talking about having a party at her place. We wanted to make it a theme, and somehow we eventually settled on Bring Your Own Gimp.
We didn't expect (nor desire) people to show up in leather submissive outfits or for the party to turn into a Moroccan orgy. However, we did want to add some "atmosphere" (read: humorous weirdness) to the party by decorating with some sex toys. Specifically, we wanted to have a blow-up doll because we thought it would be funny, and with our close proximity to Times Square, it would be an easy accessory to obtain.
Or so we thought. We popped into a few adult bookstores, thinking we could drop $20 for a cheap blow-up doll. However, it appeared that the blow-up doll connoisseur had more sophisticated tastes, as the ones we found were more than $100 because they had things like vibrating motors. We tried to explain, as politely as possible, that we just wanted one for decoration, not one to marry. Finally, we found one for $40. We picked up a couple of other props, including a double-sided dildo. One of the guys, B, wanted to get a couple of ball gags, with the red ball like the ones they used in Pulp Fiction, an accessory the bookstore didn't have.
We walked around and found an S&M shop that was in the process of opening. Up to this point, we were in standard adult bookstore territory: cheap videos, mags, and the kind of adult toys you gave as gag gifts. This place was the Rolls Royce dealer for domination. Studded leather paddles, leather masks, whips, chains...displayed with safe-word seriousness. I think the clerk was amused by our deer-eyed amazement, and he helpfully showed us what the shop had in ball gags. We purchased two and returned to our regularly scheduled programming.
The other idea behind the Bring Your Own Gimp party was to dress up a little different and/or naughtier than usual. The Lovely Becky, who had long, copper-red hair at this time, wore a short black wig and a black jacket with a tasteful-yet-definitely-a-brassier bra underneath it. She looked like she could have been a sales associate at the Rolls Royce Sex Shop: professional and classy, but someone who could describe the features and benefits of a good leather paddle. She certainly did not look like the TLB everyone knew. I didn't have much in the way of naught clothes, but spiked up my hair a little and clipped an earring to my ear.
When we got to the party, the blow-up doll was hanging from the ceiling, its open mouth making a slow 360 of the room. Many of the people had not dressed up, which was disappointing, but the props were a big hit. There were a number of pictures taken with the dildo, and some more adventurous partiers even tried on the ball gags.
One of the folks at the party was Tree, a very tall marketing manager from my office. At one point, he was talking to the costumed TLB. He had seen us come in together and smooching (as young married couples do at Bring Your Own Gimp parties). However, he was sort of probing in his conversation with her, like he was verbally sweeping a minefield. Eventually, TLB mentioned something about being my wife.
"Oh my God, you're Brando's wife!" he said with surprise and relief. He had seen our wedding picture on my desk, with TLB sporting a virginal white dress and long red hair, as opposed to short black hair and come-hither jacket and bra. "I thought you were just some floozy he was with."
The party remained much more tasteful than the sex doll twirling from the ceiling, with no public hookups or key party shenanigans taking place. I had a ball gag in my mouth at one point, but that was as crazy as it got for me. After drinking into the wee hours, I left for home with The Lovely Floozy. When we talked to P the next day, she said the doll had sprung a leak and its deflated corpse had been put out to the trash.
The double-sided dildo, however, had gone missing. And not in a "ha, ha, someone took the double-sided dildo" way. It went missing in the, "Um, I think someone wanted the double-sided dildo" way. So the moral of the story is, if you're going to have sex toys at your party, make sure you lock up your didos when you're done.
1) "Yesterdays," Guns N' Roses. What I liked about these kinds of songs on Use Your Illusion was how GnR managed to channel their inner Elton John without losing their identity. Not easy to do when your last record was recorded on the Night Train.
2) "Love Buzz," Nirvana. That's what you get when you hyperventilate inside a gimp mask.
3) "Place to Be," Nick Drake. The U.P. was that place this last week. TLB and I took Libby out for a hike, soaking up the sun and the lush greens of the trees and deep blues of Lake Superior. This song sums up that feeling: sun on my face, gentle breeze blowing, and great feeling of peace and calm. Too bad I have to get out from under 12 stories of snow to get to that moment.
4) "NYC," Interpol. I miss NYC but I don't miss living there. The three years I spend there felt like living in a foreign country: exciting, exhilarating, life-changing, but never like home. If TLB and I have the money, though, we'd seriously consider retiring there. After living in the U.P., a New York winter will seem like a piece of cake, and we could find stuff to do every day. We could hop down to our local coffee place to eat bagels and read our Kindles, then hit a museum or just walk around. That's much more appealing to me than Del Boca Vista.
5) "Runaway Train," Soul Asylum. A good song that couldn't hold up under overplaying. I really liked it the first time I heard it, and then MTV and "alternative" radio tore it apart like a couple of hungry dogs.
6) "A Method, "TV on the Radio. I don't usually use "a cappella" and "awesome" in the same sentence, but I really dig this track. Just layers of vocals and some marching band drums to transfer it out of Manhattan Transfer territory. The live version is not as good, but has the added value of an amusing guy in the background going nuts on a tom tom.
7) "September Gurls," Big Star. Anyone who loves rock music should own Big Star's #1 Record/Radio City CD. Two albums of the most perfect collection of guitar-driven pop ever recorded combined on one disc. Essential (for reals, not fake All Music Guide essential).
8) "YYZ (Live)," Rush. My favorite rock instrumental of all time and, surprisingly, one of the most accessible Rush songs because Geddy doesn't sing and the song's really groovy. No, seriously, it got a funky groove to it. Stop laughing.
9) "Boys, You Won't," The Wrens. I really wish an entire Age of Middle Earth didn't pass between their album releases, even if I've gotten six years of enjoyment out of The Meadowlands.
10) "Rich Woman," Robert Plant and Alison Krauss. Really, the best stuff Plant has done since In Through the Out Door. His solo stuff was okay, and if I hear The Honeydrippers after I die, I'll know I'm in hell. However, Raising Sand shows his voice in fine form and is age-appropriate without sounding aged. I hope Mick Jagger was taking notes.
11) "Please Let Me Love You," Alan Merrill. There's a wonderful serenade quality to the song and the sound, like Merrill recorded it outside of a girl's window. A charming end to a list that began with tales of sex toy shopping.
Have a good weekend.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
The Birds and the Bees Gone Wild
In the living room of a typical suburban home, a teenage boy and girl make out on the couch. The boy's hand starts to drift southward.
ABBY
Peter?
Peter pulls his hand back quickly.
PETER
I'm sorry, I got a little carried away, I didn't mean to....
ABBY
No, just get the light.
PETER
Oh...right!
He reaches up and turns it off. The living room goes dark for a few moments as we hear the sounds of amorous kissing.
The door opens and Peter's parents, PAULA and HARRY step in, flicking on the light. Peter and Abby are horizontal on the couch, with Abby's blouse unbuttoned. They sit bolt upright as the parents look on.
PETER
Mom! Dad!
PAULA
I can't believe what I'm seeing, in my own house, on my own couch.
Harry walks toward Peter, reaches out to him, and pulls him into a big hug.
HARRY
That a boy, Pete!
PAULA (tearing up)
It's so beautiful! Oh, Petey, we're so proud.
PETER
Abby, these are my parents.
HARRY (shaking hands)
I'm Harry Longwood.
PAULA (gives Abby a hug)
And I'm Paula Pounding-Longwood. So, has our little Peter been getting you aroused?
ABBY
Nice to meet...I'm sorry, what?
PAULA
Aroused. (to Peter) Don't tell me you forgot everything I taught you about the erogenous zones, Petey? And what did I tell you about the importance of nipple stimulation, young man?
HARRY
Son, did you put a little pressure on her mons pubis while gently stroking her....
PETER
Dad, Jesus! (to Abby) You'll have to forgive my parents, they're...adult entertainers.
ABBY
You're in porn?
HARRY (sighs)
Porn sounds so dirty...
PAULA (playfully slaps his chest)
Oh, don't be so sensitive. I swear, the only thing more sensitive than my husband's testicles is his pride. We were in porn...
HARRY
Exotic pictures
PAULA
...but we hung up our g-strings and lube a while ago. I write marriage self-help books now.
ABBY (relieved)
Oh, really? You know, my parents are having some problems...
PAULA (goes to the bookshelf)
Say no more! Here, give them a copy of my latest book. (She hands it to Abby.)
ABBY (reading the title)
Happy Analversary: 69 Ways to Keep Your Marriage Pumping Along. Um, thanks. And what do you do now, Mr. Longwood?
HARRY
I own my own business.
PETER (quickly)
He's in latex!
PAULA
Petey, you make it sound so industrial. Peter's father makes his own dildos.
ABBY
Dildos?
HARRY
I prefer the term "marital aids." But yes, I model and manufacture them. "If you want it good, get a Longwood."
PAULA (to Abby)
Here, dear, let me get you one. Your parents will need it for chapters 15-26.
Two people enter the front door. One is a woman dressed in a leather uniform. She carries a whip and holds a chain attached to the collar of a man wearing a leather mask with a zipper that's closed over his mouth. Abby lets out a surprised gasp.
PETER (sighing)
Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Greenberg.
Mr. Greenberg waves and says a muffled "hello." Mrs. Greenberg walks over and hugs Peter, dragging Mr. Greenberg with her.
MRS. GREENBERG
Peter, I didn't know you were home from school. My goodness, look at you.
PETER
Yes, and look at you. Abby, these are the Greenbergs, friends of my parents.
PAULA
We interrupted Petey and Abby when we came home, if you know what I mean.
MRS GREENBERG
Oooohhhh. (She elbows Peter knowingly.) Well, we'll let you get back to whatever you kids were doing. (to Peter's parents) We'll be down in the dungeon.
Mrs. Greenberg leads her husband away, and he muffles a goodbye as he departs.
ABBY
I need to use your bathroom.
PETER
Upstairs, second door on the right.
Abby departs up the stairs.
PAULA
We should leave you alone.
PETER
Mom, Dad, why is it every time I bring a girl over, you guys have to pressure me about having sex with her?
HARRY
What do you mean?
PETER
Every girlfriend I've ever had, you guys start talking about G-spots before you even know her name.
HARRY
Oh, you're exaggerating.
PETER
Am I? Remember Melinda? Mom asked her if she'd ever had a vaginal orgasm with me before she and I even kissed.
PAULA
I was just making conversation.
PETER
We were at her church picnic!
PAULA
Well excuse me for wanting my son to know how to get a woman off!
PETER
You guys put all this pressure on me to have sex, talking about stimulation this and arousal that, and it makes me crazy. God, it's no wonder I'm still a virgin.
Harry and Paula gasp.
PAULA
I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that.
PETER
Hear what? That I AM A VIRGIN! Virgin! Virgin! Virgin!
HARRY
Peter, do not talk to your mother like that. (Pauses.) Son, I'm sorry if we pressured you. We just wanted you to be happy and experience the kind of love your mother and I have. I guess things are just different today than when we met on the set of Cockadile Dundee. We'll leave you and....
PETER (rolls eyes)
Abby.
HARRY
Right, Abby. We'll leave you and Abby alone to do whatever you want...or don't want.
PAULA
We love you, Petey, and Abby seems like a wonderful girl. I hope we didn't mess things up for you.
Paula hugs Peter before she and Harry leave to go downstairs. Abby returns as they depart.
ABBY
Was somebody shouting "I am a virgin"?
PETER
Yeah, that was me. Listen, Abby, I'm sorry about all of this. My parents, the Greenbergs, the book, the...dildos. I'm not some kind of freak, and we can take things nice and slow if you want.
ABBY (approaching him)
Peter, that's really sweet, and I appreciate how you're looking out for me. But we've been going out for a while now and...I think we can speed things up a bit.
PETER
Really?
ABBY
In fact, I was just reading Chapter 3 of your mom's book while I was upstairs. She's got some good suggestions. And what was that your father said about the mons pubis?
They start kissing, and Peter reaches over to shut off the light. There's some rustling before they hear two cracks of a whip.
MRS GREENBERG (from downstairs)
You've been a very, very naughty boy.
Peter flips the light back on.
ABBY
How about we go back to my place?
PETER
Sounds good.
ABBY
Peter?
Peter pulls his hand back quickly.
PETER
I'm sorry, I got a little carried away, I didn't mean to....
ABBY
No, just get the light.
PETER
Oh...right!
He reaches up and turns it off. The living room goes dark for a few moments as we hear the sounds of amorous kissing.
The door opens and Peter's parents, PAULA and HARRY step in, flicking on the light. Peter and Abby are horizontal on the couch, with Abby's blouse unbuttoned. They sit bolt upright as the parents look on.
PETER
Mom! Dad!
PAULA
I can't believe what I'm seeing, in my own house, on my own couch.
Harry walks toward Peter, reaches out to him, and pulls him into a big hug.
HARRY
That a boy, Pete!
PAULA (tearing up)
It's so beautiful! Oh, Petey, we're so proud.
PETER
Abby, these are my parents.
HARRY (shaking hands)
I'm Harry Longwood.
PAULA (gives Abby a hug)
And I'm Paula Pounding-Longwood. So, has our little Peter been getting you aroused?
ABBY
Nice to meet...I'm sorry, what?
PAULA
Aroused. (to Peter) Don't tell me you forgot everything I taught you about the erogenous zones, Petey? And what did I tell you about the importance of nipple stimulation, young man?
HARRY
Son, did you put a little pressure on her mons pubis while gently stroking her....
PETER
Dad, Jesus! (to Abby) You'll have to forgive my parents, they're...adult entertainers.
ABBY
You're in porn?
HARRY (sighs)
Porn sounds so dirty...
PAULA (playfully slaps his chest)
Oh, don't be so sensitive. I swear, the only thing more sensitive than my husband's testicles is his pride. We were in porn...
HARRY
Exotic pictures
PAULA
...but we hung up our g-strings and lube a while ago. I write marriage self-help books now.
ABBY (relieved)
Oh, really? You know, my parents are having some problems...
PAULA (goes to the bookshelf)
Say no more! Here, give them a copy of my latest book. (She hands it to Abby.)
ABBY (reading the title)
Happy Analversary: 69 Ways to Keep Your Marriage Pumping Along. Um, thanks. And what do you do now, Mr. Longwood?
HARRY
I own my own business.
PETER (quickly)
He's in latex!
PAULA
Petey, you make it sound so industrial. Peter's father makes his own dildos.
ABBY
Dildos?
HARRY
I prefer the term "marital aids." But yes, I model and manufacture them. "If you want it good, get a Longwood."
PAULA (to Abby)
Here, dear, let me get you one. Your parents will need it for chapters 15-26.
Two people enter the front door. One is a woman dressed in a leather uniform. She carries a whip and holds a chain attached to the collar of a man wearing a leather mask with a zipper that's closed over his mouth. Abby lets out a surprised gasp.
PETER (sighing)
Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Greenberg.
Mr. Greenberg waves and says a muffled "hello." Mrs. Greenberg walks over and hugs Peter, dragging Mr. Greenberg with her.
MRS. GREENBERG
Peter, I didn't know you were home from school. My goodness, look at you.
PETER
Yes, and look at you. Abby, these are the Greenbergs, friends of my parents.
PAULA
We interrupted Petey and Abby when we came home, if you know what I mean.
MRS GREENBERG
Oooohhhh. (She elbows Peter knowingly.) Well, we'll let you get back to whatever you kids were doing. (to Peter's parents) We'll be down in the dungeon.
Mrs. Greenberg leads her husband away, and he muffles a goodbye as he departs.
ABBY
I need to use your bathroom.
PETER
Upstairs, second door on the right.
Abby departs up the stairs.
PAULA
We should leave you alone.
PETER
Mom, Dad, why is it every time I bring a girl over, you guys have to pressure me about having sex with her?
HARRY
What do you mean?
PETER
Every girlfriend I've ever had, you guys start talking about G-spots before you even know her name.
HARRY
Oh, you're exaggerating.
PETER
Am I? Remember Melinda? Mom asked her if she'd ever had a vaginal orgasm with me before she and I even kissed.
PAULA
I was just making conversation.
PETER
We were at her church picnic!
PAULA
Well excuse me for wanting my son to know how to get a woman off!
PETER
You guys put all this pressure on me to have sex, talking about stimulation this and arousal that, and it makes me crazy. God, it's no wonder I'm still a virgin.
Harry and Paula gasp.
PAULA
I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that.
PETER
Hear what? That I AM A VIRGIN! Virgin! Virgin! Virgin!
HARRY
Peter, do not talk to your mother like that. (Pauses.) Son, I'm sorry if we pressured you. We just wanted you to be happy and experience the kind of love your mother and I have. I guess things are just different today than when we met on the set of Cockadile Dundee. We'll leave you and....
PETER (rolls eyes)
Abby.
HARRY
Right, Abby. We'll leave you and Abby alone to do whatever you want...or don't want.
PAULA
We love you, Petey, and Abby seems like a wonderful girl. I hope we didn't mess things up for you.
Paula hugs Peter before she and Harry leave to go downstairs. Abby returns as they depart.
ABBY
Was somebody shouting "I am a virgin"?
PETER
Yeah, that was me. Listen, Abby, I'm sorry about all of this. My parents, the Greenbergs, the book, the...dildos. I'm not some kind of freak, and we can take things nice and slow if you want.
ABBY (approaching him)
Peter, that's really sweet, and I appreciate how you're looking out for me. But we've been going out for a while now and...I think we can speed things up a bit.
PETER
Really?
ABBY
In fact, I was just reading Chapter 3 of your mom's book while I was upstairs. She's got some good suggestions. And what was that your father said about the mons pubis?
They start kissing, and Peter reaches over to shut off the light. There's some rustling before they hear two cracks of a whip.
MRS GREENBERG (from downstairs)
You've been a very, very naughty boy.
Peter flips the light back on.
ABBY
How about we go back to my place?
PETER
Sounds good.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Top Ten Tuesdays: Why are we rioting in the streets?
Special extra crowd control edition!
12) Wanted to celebrate a Laker win by treating Los Angeles the way Kobe treats 19-year-old hotel employees.
11) Part of guerilla marketing campaign for new Pepsi Riot energy drink. (Pepsico warns you to riot responsibly.)
10) Release of New Jonas Brothers CD sent "OMG!" levels to uncontrollable highs.
9) Zombie outbreak finally happened.
8) Ate new Volcano Beef Burrito from Taco Bell and couldn't find public restroom in time.
7) Furious that Viagra makes 65-year-old men as horny as 18-year-olds, but still leaves them looking like 65-year-old men.
6) As out-of-work bricklayers, have plenty of time and lots of spare bricks.
5) Heard Obama set up a kissing booth and wanted to be first in line.
4) Playing new multiplayer Nintendo game, Wii Riot. (First aid not included.)
3) FREE DONUTS!!! OUT OF MY WAY OR I WILL CUT YOU!!!
2) Angry that Iranian Supreme Court awarded presidency to George W. Bush.
1) Honestly, we're just here to get a free TV.
12) Wanted to celebrate a Laker win by treating Los Angeles the way Kobe treats 19-year-old hotel employees.
11) Part of guerilla marketing campaign for new Pepsi Riot energy drink. (Pepsico warns you to riot responsibly.)
10) Release of New Jonas Brothers CD sent "OMG!" levels to uncontrollable highs.
9) Zombie outbreak finally happened.
8) Ate new Volcano Beef Burrito from Taco Bell and couldn't find public restroom in time.
7) Furious that Viagra makes 65-year-old men as horny as 18-year-olds, but still leaves them looking like 65-year-old men.
6) As out-of-work bricklayers, have plenty of time and lots of spare bricks.
5) Heard Obama set up a kissing booth and wanted to be first in line.
4) Playing new multiplayer Nintendo game, Wii Riot. (First aid not included.)
3) FREE DONUTS!!! OUT OF MY WAY OR I WILL CUT YOU!!!
2) Angry that Iranian Supreme Court awarded presidency to George W. Bush.
1) Honestly, we're just here to get a free TV.
Friday, June 12, 2009
Friday Random 11
It's one more random than 10!
I have a pretty broad tolerance for taste. I don't revel in tastelessness, but I support the right of people to push boundaries and push buttons, especially when it comes to comedy. However, despite my own disposition toward the humorously profane, I appreciate when comedians are able to be tasteful and show restraint, yet still deliver a direct comedy hit.
This week offered two interesting comedy case studies in taste. The first is the David Letterman/Sarah Palin flap. Earlier this week, when Palin was in New York, Letterman took two jabs at her. First, in a top 10, he said she went to Bloomingdale's to update her "slutty flight attendant look." I have no love for Palin (as I've made pretty clear) and I don't understand how someone can be the future of the GOP when they would like nothing better than to throw America into a nuclear-powered DeLorean and send it back to 1954. However, I had a problem with this joke for a couple reasons. First, "slutty" is a loaded, sexist, cheap shot, especially since it's only leveled at Palin for her looks and the way she dresses. Certainly part of Palin's popularity is her cougar appeal, but it's also refreshing to see a major GOP candidate actually wearing tall leather boots instead of paying $300 to a woman so he can lick her tall leather boots. The second problem is that Palin's look is clearly sexy librarian, and that would have still made the punchline work without being inherently insulting.
The bigger gaffe, though, was Letterman's monologue. He mentioned Palin was at a Yankees game with her daughter, and that Alex Rodriguez knocked her daughter up during the seventh-inning stretch. The wingers pounced on this because it turns out the daughter at the game was Palin's 14-year-old daughter, Willow, not Bristol. They started screaming that Letterman was making jokes about child rape. I personally buy the explanation that Letterman (or, more specifically, Letterman's writers) thought 18-year-old Bristol was there, but even then, it's a cheap gag and one that should be beneath someone who's a pro.
I dislike the idea of dragging the children of politcians into political humor when the kids haven't done anything to warrant it. Bristol Palin's pregnancy certainly is relevant to discussing the failure of abstinence-only education to pull us out of the problem of teen pregnancy, and she's spoken up about how unrealistic those efforts are. That's not really enough to make her fodder for late-night monologues, and I find myself in the unfortunate position of agreeing with the mouthbreathers hyperventilating over this—even if they voted for Palin's running mate and his sense of "humor."
In contrast to Letterman's ham-fisted humor, Steven Colbert has done an amazing job broadcasting The Colbert Report from Iraq. After his performance at the White House Correspondent's Dinner (one of the ballsiest comedic performances ever), I wasn't sure how Colbert would manage to entertain the troops without either unfairly skewering them or dulling his satirical sword. It's one thing to rightfully savage the assholes who used 9/11 to bend American foreign policy over a Middle Eastern oil barrel while using the Constitution for a condom (quick tip: parchment is quite leaky). It's another thing to do the same to the troops who have to bleed and die over there and have no say in where or how they are deployed. At the same time, however, I don't believe in sacrificing your artistic integrity in the name of patriotic pandering. That put Colbert in a bit of a bind. How would he get out of it?
Like a comedy Harry Houdini. In the opening segment from his first show, he managed to be respectful to the audience while also taking aim at the redeployment policies keeping many troops in the combat zone. Later, he did an absolutely brilliant bit on "don't ask. don't tell" showed the lunacy of the policy without seeming preachy or smug. The whole week has been like that: satirical but supportive.
That's why The Colbert Report is not only so funny, but one of the most brilliant shows I've ever seen. He routinely manages to satirize his subjects without insulting them. Regardless of the conservative attempt to claim The Colbert Report as a conservative show (the most ridiculous rebranding effort since "This is not your father's Oldsmobile"), a lot of conservatives enjoy the show, laughing as they lick the pie off their faces. That takes a lot of talent.
1) "Jenny Was a Friend of Mine," The Killers. If you plopped Robert Smith into the middle of the vocal track, you'd think this was a killer lost Cure track. I consider that a good thing.
2) "Have You Fed the Fish," Badly Drawn Boy. I like songs with "sweep" to them. That usually involves some proggy thing that has to take 10 minutes to tell a story about honeydew and caves of ice (not that there's anything wrong with that). This manages to feel a little epic and orchestral in under four minutes.
3) "O Valencia!" The Decemberists. Despite the proggy love, I have to say the Decemberists decent into prog has left me a little cold. I've seen their CD on the shelf, begging me to buy it, tempting me with the aphrodisiac of a concept album, but the stuff I've heard has left me meh, and my experience with Interpol and ...And You Will Know Us by the Trail of Dead made me vow to no longer automatically buy new albums from bands just because their previous one kicked ass. This song, however, kicks said ass.
4) "Fall to Pieces," Velvet Revolver. This is the kind of song you pull a lighter out for, except that Scott Weiland would probably grab it to heat up his spoon.
5) "Sure Shot," Beastie Boys. I got mad hits like I was Rod Carew. One of their most infectious songs.
6) "Kiss Kiss Kiss," John Lennon & Yoko Ono. Shit shit shit.
7) "A Little Bit Me, A Little Bit You," The Monkees. I like watching them more than listening to them.
8) "If Wishes Were Changes," Nanci Griffith. Her voice sounds like the Dixie cousin of Stevie Nicks. One of those late-night roadhouse tunes, played after the alcohol has gone from happy to sad but before it ferments into, "Let's fight."
9) "Streets of Fire," The New Pornographers. I listen to music for moments like when the drums kick in during the middle of this song. It's all sweet strumming harmony, and then BOOM, big fat drum fills drive it out of the park like an HGH-fueled home run derby, only it's all legal and doesn't leave Barry Bonds looking like a giant Mr. Potato Head on Lou Ferrigno's body. Essential.
10) "Eminence Front," The Who. The last great song they ever recorded. This is going to sound incredibly nerdy, but Rock Band has given me a much greater appreciation for Pete Townshend as a guitar player. With all the other elements of The Who fighting for my attention—Moon's entropic drumming, Entwhistle's fat bass, and Daltrey's epic vocals, not to mention Townshend's lyrics—I overlooked just how good the guitar playing was. It's more rhythmic than flashy, but there are all these little chaotic flourishes, like ripped and frayed patches that give a nice pair of jeans a cool sense of street style. It's also obvious that I miss Project Runway more than I thought.
11) "Documented Minor Emotional Breakdown #1," Los Campesinos! One of those bands I like a little more every time I hear them. They remind me of timpano, an Italian dish featured in the movie Big Night. Timpano is this crazy-ass loaf of culinary heaven, a giant baked wheel full of pasta, meat, hard boiled eggs, and all these ingredients that seem overwhelming or incongruous when thrown together. I've been fortunate enough to have it a few times. When you see a slice of it on your plate, it looks like some Frankenstein creation. Yet it is probably the most amazing thing you can put in your mouth, unless you happen to be Angelina Jolie or Brad Pitt, in which case it would be the second-best thing. Los Campesinos are like that, with all these ingredients thrown together that somehow work and leave me wanting seconds even after I've already had to unbutton my pants.
Have a great weekend.
I have a pretty broad tolerance for taste. I don't revel in tastelessness, but I support the right of people to push boundaries and push buttons, especially when it comes to comedy. However, despite my own disposition toward the humorously profane, I appreciate when comedians are able to be tasteful and show restraint, yet still deliver a direct comedy hit.
This week offered two interesting comedy case studies in taste. The first is the David Letterman/Sarah Palin flap. Earlier this week, when Palin was in New York, Letterman took two jabs at her. First, in a top 10, he said she went to Bloomingdale's to update her "slutty flight attendant look." I have no love for Palin (as I've made pretty clear) and I don't understand how someone can be the future of the GOP when they would like nothing better than to throw America into a nuclear-powered DeLorean and send it back to 1954. However, I had a problem with this joke for a couple reasons. First, "slutty" is a loaded, sexist, cheap shot, especially since it's only leveled at Palin for her looks and the way she dresses. Certainly part of Palin's popularity is her cougar appeal, but it's also refreshing to see a major GOP candidate actually wearing tall leather boots instead of paying $300 to a woman so he can lick her tall leather boots. The second problem is that Palin's look is clearly sexy librarian, and that would have still made the punchline work without being inherently insulting.
The bigger gaffe, though, was Letterman's monologue. He mentioned Palin was at a Yankees game with her daughter, and that Alex Rodriguez knocked her daughter up during the seventh-inning stretch. The wingers pounced on this because it turns out the daughter at the game was Palin's 14-year-old daughter, Willow, not Bristol. They started screaming that Letterman was making jokes about child rape. I personally buy the explanation that Letterman (or, more specifically, Letterman's writers) thought 18-year-old Bristol was there, but even then, it's a cheap gag and one that should be beneath someone who's a pro.
I dislike the idea of dragging the children of politcians into political humor when the kids haven't done anything to warrant it. Bristol Palin's pregnancy certainly is relevant to discussing the failure of abstinence-only education to pull us out of the problem of teen pregnancy, and she's spoken up about how unrealistic those efforts are. That's not really enough to make her fodder for late-night monologues, and I find myself in the unfortunate position of agreeing with the mouthbreathers hyperventilating over this—even if they voted for Palin's running mate and his sense of "humor."
In contrast to Letterman's ham-fisted humor, Steven Colbert has done an amazing job broadcasting The Colbert Report from Iraq. After his performance at the White House Correspondent's Dinner (one of the ballsiest comedic performances ever), I wasn't sure how Colbert would manage to entertain the troops without either unfairly skewering them or dulling his satirical sword. It's one thing to rightfully savage the assholes who used 9/11 to bend American foreign policy over a Middle Eastern oil barrel while using the Constitution for a condom (quick tip: parchment is quite leaky). It's another thing to do the same to the troops who have to bleed and die over there and have no say in where or how they are deployed. At the same time, however, I don't believe in sacrificing your artistic integrity in the name of patriotic pandering. That put Colbert in a bit of a bind. How would he get out of it?
Like a comedy Harry Houdini. In the opening segment from his first show, he managed to be respectful to the audience while also taking aim at the redeployment policies keeping many troops in the combat zone. Later, he did an absolutely brilliant bit on "don't ask. don't tell" showed the lunacy of the policy without seeming preachy or smug. The whole week has been like that: satirical but supportive.
That's why The Colbert Report is not only so funny, but one of the most brilliant shows I've ever seen. He routinely manages to satirize his subjects without insulting them. Regardless of the conservative attempt to claim The Colbert Report as a conservative show (the most ridiculous rebranding effort since "This is not your father's Oldsmobile"), a lot of conservatives enjoy the show, laughing as they lick the pie off their faces. That takes a lot of talent.
1) "Jenny Was a Friend of Mine," The Killers. If you plopped Robert Smith into the middle of the vocal track, you'd think this was a killer lost Cure track. I consider that a good thing.
2) "Have You Fed the Fish," Badly Drawn Boy. I like songs with "sweep" to them. That usually involves some proggy thing that has to take 10 minutes to tell a story about honeydew and caves of ice (not that there's anything wrong with that). This manages to feel a little epic and orchestral in under four minutes.
3) "O Valencia!" The Decemberists. Despite the proggy love, I have to say the Decemberists decent into prog has left me a little cold. I've seen their CD on the shelf, begging me to buy it, tempting me with the aphrodisiac of a concept album, but the stuff I've heard has left me meh, and my experience with Interpol and ...And You Will Know Us by the Trail of Dead made me vow to no longer automatically buy new albums from bands just because their previous one kicked ass. This song, however, kicks said ass.
4) "Fall to Pieces," Velvet Revolver. This is the kind of song you pull a lighter out for, except that Scott Weiland would probably grab it to heat up his spoon.
5) "Sure Shot," Beastie Boys. I got mad hits like I was Rod Carew. One of their most infectious songs.
6) "Kiss Kiss Kiss," John Lennon & Yoko Ono. Shit shit shit.
7) "A Little Bit Me, A Little Bit You," The Monkees. I like watching them more than listening to them.
8) "If Wishes Were Changes," Nanci Griffith. Her voice sounds like the Dixie cousin of Stevie Nicks. One of those late-night roadhouse tunes, played after the alcohol has gone from happy to sad but before it ferments into, "Let's fight."
9) "Streets of Fire," The New Pornographers. I listen to music for moments like when the drums kick in during the middle of this song. It's all sweet strumming harmony, and then BOOM, big fat drum fills drive it out of the park like an HGH-fueled home run derby, only it's all legal and doesn't leave Barry Bonds looking like a giant Mr. Potato Head on Lou Ferrigno's body. Essential.
10) "Eminence Front," The Who. The last great song they ever recorded. This is going to sound incredibly nerdy, but Rock Band has given me a much greater appreciation for Pete Townshend as a guitar player. With all the other elements of The Who fighting for my attention—Moon's entropic drumming, Entwhistle's fat bass, and Daltrey's epic vocals, not to mention Townshend's lyrics—I overlooked just how good the guitar playing was. It's more rhythmic than flashy, but there are all these little chaotic flourishes, like ripped and frayed patches that give a nice pair of jeans a cool sense of street style. It's also obvious that I miss Project Runway more than I thought.
11) "Documented Minor Emotional Breakdown #1," Los Campesinos! One of those bands I like a little more every time I hear them. They remind me of timpano, an Italian dish featured in the movie Big Night. Timpano is this crazy-ass loaf of culinary heaven, a giant baked wheel full of pasta, meat, hard boiled eggs, and all these ingredients that seem overwhelming or incongruous when thrown together. I've been fortunate enough to have it a few times. When you see a slice of it on your plate, it looks like some Frankenstein creation. Yet it is probably the most amazing thing you can put in your mouth, unless you happen to be Angelina Jolie or Brad Pitt, in which case it would be the second-best thing. Los Campesinos are like that, with all these ingredients thrown together that somehow work and leave me wanting seconds even after I've already had to unbutton my pants.
Have a great weekend.
Tuesday, June 09, 2009
Top Ten Tuesdays: How are we getting ready for swimsuit season?
10) Guzzling a bottle of Beam before the bikini wax.
9) Performing self-liposuction using a steak knife and a Dust Buster.
8) Taping down the sides of our Speedo to avoid another "peek-a-boo" incident.
7) Using leftover can of tan Sherman Williams paint as bronzer.
6) Welcoming our skin moles back from hibernation.
5) Paying someone who is in shape to be our beach double.
4) Microwaving face in order to get first sunburn out of the way.
3) Spending a month eating only broccoli that's salted with our bitter, overweight tears.
2) Sharpening our lawn mower blades before shaving our backs.
1) Standing naked in front of a mirror until desire to go to the beach passes.
9) Performing self-liposuction using a steak knife and a Dust Buster.
8) Taping down the sides of our Speedo to avoid another "peek-a-boo" incident.
7) Using leftover can of tan Sherman Williams paint as bronzer.
6) Welcoming our skin moles back from hibernation.
5) Paying someone who is in shape to be our beach double.
4) Microwaving face in order to get first sunburn out of the way.
3) Spending a month eating only broccoli that's salted with our bitter, overweight tears.
2) Sharpening our lawn mower blades before shaving our backs.
1) Standing naked in front of a mirror until desire to go to the beach passes.
Friday, June 05, 2009
Friday Random 11
It's one more random than 10!
I read an interesting post by the always entertaining Adorable Girlfriend this week. AG wrote about her memories of high school, about the schizophrenic nature of the experience (being both great and terrible), how her identity in high school shifted over the years, and how she's distanced herself from it in an era where Facebook is making it easier than ever to connect with/stalk old high school friends and flames. She added something else in the comments that stuck with me: "There are two types of people: those who keep a ton of old pals around and those who blaze new paths."
As a Navy brat, I was in the business of reinventing myself every two to four years. I'd have to pick up and go someplace else and make new friends. I hated leaving the old ones behind, but at the same time I sort of relished being able to fine tune my identity. New friends knew no old, embarrassing details. They told no tales about how, this one time, at band camp, Brando did X. Sure, I wove new tales of embarrassment, but always with the knowledge I could make them disappear soon.
I was able to keep those old tales in the past because I almost never stayed in touch with the friends I left behind. Admittedly, laziness played a large role in losing touch. I just didn't enjoy writing letters, especially when I knew there was little chance I would see those friends again. But I think there was something more at work. I think part of me saw those relationships as moments in time. They were very important, and I was grateful for them, but they were off a certain moment and place, and I kept them there. I blazed a new path.
My brother Tickle, however, took the opposite approach. He kept in touch with many of his friends as we moved. In fact, many of those friends became friends with his new friends. I'm on an e-mail list with a group of them, where we talk about sports, Vegas, drinking, and other assorted stupidity, and you would think that all of these guys grew up together. Yet they are distinct groups that only know each other because of my brother.
I joined Facebook last year, the same year as my twentieth high school reunion, and I wound up reconnecting with a lot of people from high school and college, people I hadn't talked to for fifteen to twenty years. Those contacts made me realize that I wish I had taken Tickle's approach. It's not out of some desire to relive high school—I had a very good time then, but I'd never want to return to those days. And many of those friendships dissolved naturally, not in bad way, but the way they do when people grow up and move on. There are a few, though, that I regret not keeping going. With a little more effort on my part, I could have built on those moments in time with new experiences.
That realization makes me a little sad, but even though it's not the same, I'm grateful that I live in an age where I can not only make contact with old friends again, but keep in virtual touch with newer friends who are no longer physically in my life. It's not the same as seeing each other, then or now, but at least we get to peek a little into each other's lives and see how things are going. That's worth something.
Okay, I'm starting to sound like The Wonder Years here. Time for some tunes.
1) "Bring on the Night," The Police. One of the things that's very hard to get used to in the Upper Peninsula is the length of the day. This is partly from being on Eastern time despite being about the same longitude as Chicago. That means the daylight stretches into the post-10 P.M. realm once we get into June and July. They can't start fireworks here on the Fourth of July until 11 because it's too bright. On the one hand, it's extremely invigorating. It'll be 8:00 p.m. and feel like 5:00, and like Ultraman, that sunlight just gives me a burst of power. On the other that means going to sleep less than an hour after sunset, which makes me feel like a farmer. So bring on the night indeed.
2) "Modern Kicks," The Exploding Hearts. The best Clash tribute band since Rancid, and a tragic story: three of the four band members were killed in a car accident after making this, their only record. It's amazing that a group who were born after Star Wars could invoke the spirit of 1977 punk so accurately.
3) "Timothy," Jet. Dumb bands should never slow things down, because it allows you to focus on what they're singing about. Give me a bouncy beat and ask if I'm going to be your girl and we'll be just fine.
4) "Disposable Heroes," Metallica. See what I mean.
5) "Mixed Emotions," The Rolling Stones. The title pretty much sums up my feelings about The Stones.
6) "Girl," The Beatles. They're getting their own version of Rock Band this fall, with the twist that the game follows their career. You can also buy an additional Yoko add-on that causes the game disc to break into four pieces.
7) "Piano Fire," Sparklehorse. I have a lot of stuff like this on my hard drive: a pretty good song that unfortunately does not capture my attention enough for me to seek it out again.
8) "Werewolves of London," Warren Zevon. Never wears out its humor. A funny personal story about this album, Excitable Boy. When I was six (and still an only child), my parents and I moved from D.C. back to the NWI (Northwest Indiana), moving into my Grandma's house. while we got settled. Grandma's has one bathroom, and both my Uncle T and my Aunt J were still living there, so things were a bit close. One night, my Uncle T, who was in full swinging single mode, had a hot date to get to, which required him drying his hair (back when he had hair). He had showered and left to get dressed in his room, which gave me the opening I needed to dart into the bathroom and claim squatter's rights. Being six, I was never terribly fast about completing bathroom transactions, so I was still in there when he returned to dry his hair.
I love my uncle, and he was always great to me, but this night he was irritated that I couldn't wait for him to finish before I sequestered myself. He started banging on the door and yelling about being late. Because I did love my uncle, I got very upset, and left the bathroom before I was completely finished. I slunk off to the kitchen, where my mom and my Aunt J asked me what happened. I pitifully told them I had been kicked off the toilet so Uncle T could dry his hair (neglecting, of course, the part about claim jumping the bathroom). My mom and aunt got on my uncle's case, and after my uncle's hair was perfect (as the song goes), I returned to finish my business.
However, my Aunt J was not done. She always hated Zevon's Excitable Boy, possibly because my uncle liked it. Under the guise of enacting revenge for me, she took the record needle on my uncle's player and scratched poor Zevon's record like it had been mauled by a werewolf. And within the next decade, my uncle's hair began to recede like it was retreating to Dunkirk. So there really is karma in the universe.
9) "My Valuable Hunting Knife," Guided by Voices. I want to start a new life, with my valuable hunting knife singer Robert Pollard. Well, if that's the case, the U.P. is the place to be. I explained the difference between Iowa and the U.P. to one of my Iowa friends recently. I said if you left Iowa City, you were in the country. If you left Marquette, you were in the wilderness. Generally speaking, things don't eat you in the country, but they might in the wilderness. That's why the hunting knife is so valuable.
10) "Prison Girls," Neko Case. Hmm, Neko Case in a women's prison...could you all give me a moment? Actually, I recently saw one of those prison documentaries on life in a women's prison, which is not at all like what I pictured. Thanks for nothing, Discovery Channel.
11) "Love Me Like a Reptile," Motörhead. I'm not sure, but I think the title of this song is double-entendre about charming a snake. The English are great at coming up with that kind of stuff. And how can a weekend not be awesome when Lemmy leads you into it?
Have a great one.
I read an interesting post by the always entertaining Adorable Girlfriend this week. AG wrote about her memories of high school, about the schizophrenic nature of the experience (being both great and terrible), how her identity in high school shifted over the years, and how she's distanced herself from it in an era where Facebook is making it easier than ever to connect with/stalk old high school friends and flames. She added something else in the comments that stuck with me: "There are two types of people: those who keep a ton of old pals around and those who blaze new paths."
As a Navy brat, I was in the business of reinventing myself every two to four years. I'd have to pick up and go someplace else and make new friends. I hated leaving the old ones behind, but at the same time I sort of relished being able to fine tune my identity. New friends knew no old, embarrassing details. They told no tales about how, this one time, at band camp, Brando did X. Sure, I wove new tales of embarrassment, but always with the knowledge I could make them disappear soon.
I was able to keep those old tales in the past because I almost never stayed in touch with the friends I left behind. Admittedly, laziness played a large role in losing touch. I just didn't enjoy writing letters, especially when I knew there was little chance I would see those friends again. But I think there was something more at work. I think part of me saw those relationships as moments in time. They were very important, and I was grateful for them, but they were off a certain moment and place, and I kept them there. I blazed a new path.
My brother Tickle, however, took the opposite approach. He kept in touch with many of his friends as we moved. In fact, many of those friends became friends with his new friends. I'm on an e-mail list with a group of them, where we talk about sports, Vegas, drinking, and other assorted stupidity, and you would think that all of these guys grew up together. Yet they are distinct groups that only know each other because of my brother.
I joined Facebook last year, the same year as my twentieth high school reunion, and I wound up reconnecting with a lot of people from high school and college, people I hadn't talked to for fifteen to twenty years. Those contacts made me realize that I wish I had taken Tickle's approach. It's not out of some desire to relive high school—I had a very good time then, but I'd never want to return to those days. And many of those friendships dissolved naturally, not in bad way, but the way they do when people grow up and move on. There are a few, though, that I regret not keeping going. With a little more effort on my part, I could have built on those moments in time with new experiences.
That realization makes me a little sad, but even though it's not the same, I'm grateful that I live in an age where I can not only make contact with old friends again, but keep in virtual touch with newer friends who are no longer physically in my life. It's not the same as seeing each other, then or now, but at least we get to peek a little into each other's lives and see how things are going. That's worth something.
Okay, I'm starting to sound like The Wonder Years here. Time for some tunes.
1) "Bring on the Night," The Police. One of the things that's very hard to get used to in the Upper Peninsula is the length of the day. This is partly from being on Eastern time despite being about the same longitude as Chicago. That means the daylight stretches into the post-10 P.M. realm once we get into June and July. They can't start fireworks here on the Fourth of July until 11 because it's too bright. On the one hand, it's extremely invigorating. It'll be 8:00 p.m. and feel like 5:00, and like Ultraman, that sunlight just gives me a burst of power. On the other that means going to sleep less than an hour after sunset, which makes me feel like a farmer. So bring on the night indeed.
2) "Modern Kicks," The Exploding Hearts. The best Clash tribute band since Rancid, and a tragic story: three of the four band members were killed in a car accident after making this, their only record. It's amazing that a group who were born after Star Wars could invoke the spirit of 1977 punk so accurately.
3) "Timothy," Jet. Dumb bands should never slow things down, because it allows you to focus on what they're singing about. Give me a bouncy beat and ask if I'm going to be your girl and we'll be just fine.
4) "Disposable Heroes," Metallica. See what I mean.
5) "Mixed Emotions," The Rolling Stones. The title pretty much sums up my feelings about The Stones.
6) "Girl," The Beatles. They're getting their own version of Rock Band this fall, with the twist that the game follows their career. You can also buy an additional Yoko add-on that causes the game disc to break into four pieces.
7) "Piano Fire," Sparklehorse. I have a lot of stuff like this on my hard drive: a pretty good song that unfortunately does not capture my attention enough for me to seek it out again.
8) "Werewolves of London," Warren Zevon. Never wears out its humor. A funny personal story about this album, Excitable Boy. When I was six (and still an only child), my parents and I moved from D.C. back to the NWI (Northwest Indiana), moving into my Grandma's house. while we got settled. Grandma's has one bathroom, and both my Uncle T and my Aunt J were still living there, so things were a bit close. One night, my Uncle T, who was in full swinging single mode, had a hot date to get to, which required him drying his hair (back when he had hair). He had showered and left to get dressed in his room, which gave me the opening I needed to dart into the bathroom and claim squatter's rights. Being six, I was never terribly fast about completing bathroom transactions, so I was still in there when he returned to dry his hair.
I love my uncle, and he was always great to me, but this night he was irritated that I couldn't wait for him to finish before I sequestered myself. He started banging on the door and yelling about being late. Because I did love my uncle, I got very upset, and left the bathroom before I was completely finished. I slunk off to the kitchen, where my mom and my Aunt J asked me what happened. I pitifully told them I had been kicked off the toilet so Uncle T could dry his hair (neglecting, of course, the part about claim jumping the bathroom). My mom and aunt got on my uncle's case, and after my uncle's hair was perfect (as the song goes), I returned to finish my business.
However, my Aunt J was not done. She always hated Zevon's Excitable Boy, possibly because my uncle liked it. Under the guise of enacting revenge for me, she took the record needle on my uncle's player and scratched poor Zevon's record like it had been mauled by a werewolf. And within the next decade, my uncle's hair began to recede like it was retreating to Dunkirk. So there really is karma in the universe.
9) "My Valuable Hunting Knife," Guided by Voices. I want to start a new life, with my valuable hunting knife singer Robert Pollard. Well, if that's the case, the U.P. is the place to be. I explained the difference between Iowa and the U.P. to one of my Iowa friends recently. I said if you left Iowa City, you were in the country. If you left Marquette, you were in the wilderness. Generally speaking, things don't eat you in the country, but they might in the wilderness. That's why the hunting knife is so valuable.
10) "Prison Girls," Neko Case. Hmm, Neko Case in a women's prison...could you all give me a moment? Actually, I recently saw one of those prison documentaries on life in a women's prison, which is not at all like what I pictured. Thanks for nothing, Discovery Channel.
11) "Love Me Like a Reptile," Motörhead. I'm not sure, but I think the title of this song is double-entendre about charming a snake. The English are great at coming up with that kind of stuff. And how can a weekend not be awesome when Lemmy leads you into it?
Have a great one.
Tuesday, June 02, 2009
Top Ten Tuesdays: What advice did we give graduates during our commencement addresses?
10) I look out here and see young, energetic faces ready to take the world by storm. Well, if any of you even think about trying to take my job, I'll fucking shank you.
9) Cherish this time you'll spend living at home until the economy improves.
8) Many of you leave college perhaps with more questions than answers, wondering what will happen when you walk across this stage and depart this campus. Except those of you in ROTC, your orders are taped to your diplomas.
7) For the love of God, use spell check.
6) Once you get out to the "real world," there will be times when you're confronted with things that shake the very foundations of your beliefs: The theory of evolution. The geological age of the Earth. Female orgasm. But in those dark times, remember this: you have something stronger than facts. You have an education from Bob Jones University.
5) No one will ever give a crap about your GPA.
4) College is a time to experiment, to ask questions, to shake up the authoritarian structure. As you enter the workforce, I highly recommend that you forget all of that nonsense.
3) The sad truth is, you would have more earning power and job prospects if you'd gone to trucking school.
2) Life is full of surprises. For instance, if you look under your mortarboard, you'll find your first student loan payment book.
1) When in doubt, go to graduate school.
9) Cherish this time you'll spend living at home until the economy improves.
8) Many of you leave college perhaps with more questions than answers, wondering what will happen when you walk across this stage and depart this campus. Except those of you in ROTC, your orders are taped to your diplomas.
7) For the love of God, use spell check.
6) Once you get out to the "real world," there will be times when you're confronted with things that shake the very foundations of your beliefs: The theory of evolution. The geological age of the Earth. Female orgasm. But in those dark times, remember this: you have something stronger than facts. You have an education from Bob Jones University.
5) No one will ever give a crap about your GPA.
4) College is a time to experiment, to ask questions, to shake up the authoritarian structure. As you enter the workforce, I highly recommend that you forget all of that nonsense.
3) The sad truth is, you would have more earning power and job prospects if you'd gone to trucking school.
2) Life is full of surprises. For instance, if you look under your mortarboard, you'll find your first student loan payment book.
1) When in doubt, go to graduate school.
Friday, May 29, 2009
Friday Random 11
It's one more random than 10!
The Lovely Becky and I celebrated our 15th anniversary yesterday (which I think is the Plasma Anniversary). We had a very nice dinner out, splitting a bottle of wine for the first time in probably two years and eating a couple of amazing desserts we couldn't finish because they were as big as a newborn Libby.
Fifteen years is a long time. As TLB pointed out, we've beaten the seven-year itch twice. Last night, we played a little game where we listed our top five moments since being married (with Libby as the consensus number one). A couple of those greatest hits showed that we've beaten those itches because we're particularly good at scratching each other's backs.
As fun as that scratching is, what I love more than anything is making TLB laugh, and that's not easy when you've been with someone for a decade and a half, because TLB knows every bit in what she calls "The Act." Yesterday, in discussing how long we have been married, I made a joke to our babysitter Stacey about how TLB used to have a pool boy even though we didn't have a pool.
"The pool boy material is so old," TLB groaned.
She had a point. That is a well I go to often. "But Stacey's never heard that one," I said. "You know I don't do old material for you."
And yet, on any random night, we make each other laugh. I'm always looking for a way to make my wife crack up, expanding The Act with new material just for her. It's not a one-way street, either: TLB is really funny, even though she always says she is not funny. That's especially huge now that we spend five months of the year holed up in the Overlook Hotel during the winter.
The bottom line is, after all this time, we still love being with each other. We have plenty of times where we do our own things, and certainly a lot of our attention has been diverted into parenting. But at the end of the day, we're always happy for each other's company. I think that will keep us going for at least another 15.
1) "You May Be Right," Billy Joel. I bought Glass Houses because Alvin and the Chipmunks covered this on Chipmunk Punk. I hate to say it, but I kind of preferred the Chipmunk version.
2) "When I'm Thinking About You," The Sundays. A severely underrated band. This morning, TLB had The Today Show on, and Taylor Swift was playing. It was a pleasant but completely forgettable song, that generic female acousti-pop that seems tailor-made (zing!) for a montage of tweens Twittering about watching Taylor Swift. Anyway, it's a shame that's on TV while The Sundays are left to the bin of relative obscurity, because this song is gorgeous.
3) "Phantom of the Opera," Iron Maiden. God help me, but I love this. I hope I never stop loving music like this. It's goofy, headbanging fun that always makes me feel like a kid again. When I'm 85 and living in my retirement castle, I want to crank some Maiden and celebrate that it's Pudding Night.
4) "A History of Lovers," Iron&Wine/Calexico. The kind of song to play when on a road trip to California, when its sunny and warm but cool enough to roll the windows down instead of using the AC, smiling because there's nothing quite like traveling on the open road when the destination is the coast. The video here is of a slower solo performance that, while good, doesn't do justice to the song.
5) "Us and Them," Pink Floyd. You're getting sleepy...sleepy...hey, you weren't supposed to fall asleep!
6) "Midnight in a Perfect World," DJ Shadow. Hypnotic in a good way. I really like trip-hop like DJ Shadow because it takes all the things I enjoy in hip-hop—the beats, the creative sampling, the art of making something new out of something old. It's like hip-hop prog.
7) "Love the One You're With," Crosby, Stills, and Nash. Such a great song about settling for second best. I believe this is from the album, Looking for Mrs. Right Now. I think the version in the video is just the Stephen Stills version.
8) "The Greatest," Cat Power. I'm not terribly happy with the concept of cat power. We have three cats, and if they had their way, we'd all be living in a world where we lick ourselves, poop in boxes, and sleep 18 hours a day. Okay, so two out of three of those things sound awesome, but I'd miss reading in the bathroom and using a shower to clean myself instead of my tongue.
9) "Take a Chance on Me," ABBA. The Obama Administration should make a PSA about universal health care that's set to this song. They could intersperse it with photos of happy Swedes visiting their doctors, with a final caption, "Don't we deserve to be as happy as Sweden? Let's take a chance on universal health care." And then ABBA could appear to sing in perfect harmony, "Suck it, Lumbaugh!"
10) "Stay Free," The Clash. A simply smashing song about friendship, and one of the best Clash songs. It avoids being sappy by being specific, weaving a story of two friends who stick together through thick and thin. It takes real talent to be punk and be touching.
11) "Bodies," Smashing Pumpkins. I started going to the gym again recently, after a long, long layoff brought on by baby duty and a busy schedule. For some reason, I've been cranking a lot of Siamese Dream and Mellon Collie when I've been working out. I think it's because those albums are awesome background music. If I sit down and listen to the Pumpkins, the sameness of the songs and the whine of Billy Corrigan grind me down like being a rat in a cage despite all my rage. But give me 30 minutes of this fuzzy sturm und drang and I feel like I can run through a goddamned wall. So kudos to Billy Corrigan for making me feel super pumped up even when I'm puffing like a strangled whale and regretting every cheeseburger I've ever eaten.
Have a great weekend, and if you can't be with the one you love, remember to consider what he or she will think if they find out you loved the one you were with.
The Lovely Becky and I celebrated our 15th anniversary yesterday (which I think is the Plasma Anniversary). We had a very nice dinner out, splitting a bottle of wine for the first time in probably two years and eating a couple of amazing desserts we couldn't finish because they were as big as a newborn Libby.
Fifteen years is a long time. As TLB pointed out, we've beaten the seven-year itch twice. Last night, we played a little game where we listed our top five moments since being married (with Libby as the consensus number one). A couple of those greatest hits showed that we've beaten those itches because we're particularly good at scratching each other's backs.
As fun as that scratching is, what I love more than anything is making TLB laugh, and that's not easy when you've been with someone for a decade and a half, because TLB knows every bit in what she calls "The Act." Yesterday, in discussing how long we have been married, I made a joke to our babysitter Stacey about how TLB used to have a pool boy even though we didn't have a pool.
"The pool boy material is so old," TLB groaned.
She had a point. That is a well I go to often. "But Stacey's never heard that one," I said. "You know I don't do old material for you."
And yet, on any random night, we make each other laugh. I'm always looking for a way to make my wife crack up, expanding The Act with new material just for her. It's not a one-way street, either: TLB is really funny, even though she always says she is not funny. That's especially huge now that we spend five months of the year holed up in the Overlook Hotel during the winter.
The bottom line is, after all this time, we still love being with each other. We have plenty of times where we do our own things, and certainly a lot of our attention has been diverted into parenting. But at the end of the day, we're always happy for each other's company. I think that will keep us going for at least another 15.
1) "You May Be Right," Billy Joel. I bought Glass Houses because Alvin and the Chipmunks covered this on Chipmunk Punk. I hate to say it, but I kind of preferred the Chipmunk version.
2) "When I'm Thinking About You," The Sundays. A severely underrated band. This morning, TLB had The Today Show on, and Taylor Swift was playing. It was a pleasant but completely forgettable song, that generic female acousti-pop that seems tailor-made (zing!) for a montage of tweens Twittering about watching Taylor Swift. Anyway, it's a shame that's on TV while The Sundays are left to the bin of relative obscurity, because this song is gorgeous.
3) "Phantom of the Opera," Iron Maiden. God help me, but I love this. I hope I never stop loving music like this. It's goofy, headbanging fun that always makes me feel like a kid again. When I'm 85 and living in my retirement castle, I want to crank some Maiden and celebrate that it's Pudding Night.
4) "A History of Lovers," Iron&Wine/Calexico. The kind of song to play when on a road trip to California, when its sunny and warm but cool enough to roll the windows down instead of using the AC, smiling because there's nothing quite like traveling on the open road when the destination is the coast. The video here is of a slower solo performance that, while good, doesn't do justice to the song.
5) "Us and Them," Pink Floyd. You're getting sleepy...sleepy...hey, you weren't supposed to fall asleep!
6) "Midnight in a Perfect World," DJ Shadow. Hypnotic in a good way. I really like trip-hop like DJ Shadow because it takes all the things I enjoy in hip-hop—the beats, the creative sampling, the art of making something new out of something old. It's like hip-hop prog.
7) "Love the One You're With," Crosby, Stills, and Nash. Such a great song about settling for second best. I believe this is from the album, Looking for Mrs. Right Now. I think the version in the video is just the Stephen Stills version.
8) "The Greatest," Cat Power. I'm not terribly happy with the concept of cat power. We have three cats, and if they had their way, we'd all be living in a world where we lick ourselves, poop in boxes, and sleep 18 hours a day. Okay, so two out of three of those things sound awesome, but I'd miss reading in the bathroom and using a shower to clean myself instead of my tongue.
9) "Take a Chance on Me," ABBA. The Obama Administration should make a PSA about universal health care that's set to this song. They could intersperse it with photos of happy Swedes visiting their doctors, with a final caption, "Don't we deserve to be as happy as Sweden? Let's take a chance on universal health care." And then ABBA could appear to sing in perfect harmony, "Suck it, Lumbaugh!"
10) "Stay Free," The Clash. A simply smashing song about friendship, and one of the best Clash songs. It avoids being sappy by being specific, weaving a story of two friends who stick together through thick and thin. It takes real talent to be punk and be touching.
11) "Bodies," Smashing Pumpkins. I started going to the gym again recently, after a long, long layoff brought on by baby duty and a busy schedule. For some reason, I've been cranking a lot of Siamese Dream and Mellon Collie when I've been working out. I think it's because those albums are awesome background music. If I sit down and listen to the Pumpkins, the sameness of the songs and the whine of Billy Corrigan grind me down like being a rat in a cage despite all my rage. But give me 30 minutes of this fuzzy sturm und drang and I feel like I can run through a goddamned wall. So kudos to Billy Corrigan for making me feel super pumped up even when I'm puffing like a strangled whale and regretting every cheeseburger I've ever eaten.
Have a great weekend, and if you can't be with the one you love, remember to consider what he or she will think if they find out you loved the one you were with.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Top Ten Tuesdays: How are we planning to deter North Korea's weapons programs?
10) Posting a strongly-worded tweet from twitter.com/unsecuritycouncil57.
9) Sending Joe Biden for direct negotiations so he can talk them to death.
8) Telling Kim Il-Jong if he stops testing, he can be in Obama's Five.
7) Broadcasting North Korean premiere of Wargames so they understand that in nuclear war, there are no winners.
6) Parachuting Jack Bauer to Pyongyang and giving him a day to take care of it.
5) Calling China and telling them, "Hey, you know what North Korea said? That you don't have the stones to launch preemptive strikes against their suspected nuclear sites. And that the way to tell Chinese women apart from Chinese men is that the men have smaller clitorises. What's that? Sure, we can e-mail you the coordinates."
4) Inviting them to settle the issue on the hottest new game show, Arms Deal or No Arms Deal.
3) Erecting a mile-high trampoline along the West Coast.
2) Warning North Korea if they don't stop testing nuclear weapons, Dick Cheney will kill every first-born North Korean male.
1) Honestly, we have no idea. Got any suggestions?
9) Sending Joe Biden for direct negotiations so he can talk them to death.
8) Telling Kim Il-Jong if he stops testing, he can be in Obama's Five.
7) Broadcasting North Korean premiere of Wargames so they understand that in nuclear war, there are no winners.
6) Parachuting Jack Bauer to Pyongyang and giving him a day to take care of it.
5) Calling China and telling them, "Hey, you know what North Korea said? That you don't have the stones to launch preemptive strikes against their suspected nuclear sites. And that the way to tell Chinese women apart from Chinese men is that the men have smaller clitorises. What's that? Sure, we can e-mail you the coordinates."
4) Inviting them to settle the issue on the hottest new game show, Arms Deal or No Arms Deal.
3) Erecting a mile-high trampoline along the West Coast.
2) Warning North Korea if they don't stop testing nuclear weapons, Dick Cheney will kill every first-born North Korean male.
1) Honestly, we have no idea. Got any suggestions?
Friday, May 22, 2009
Friday Random 11
It's one more random than 10!
Yesterday The Lovely Becky and I went to the movies for the first time in a year. In fact, over the last year, we've been out alone only a handful of times. We decided it was time to start having some date nights.
We haven't really missed going out that much. We had plenty of time to have date nights during the decade we tried to have a kid, so we gladly traded those nights out for a chance to stay home and soak in our parenthood.
As much fun as that has been, we realized recently that we needed to take some time for ourselves. TLB and I have always been great talkers—even after nearly 15 years of marriage, we love talking with each other. Our best conversations have always been when we go out to eat, maybe because we avoid the easy distractions of TV, videogames, online poker, work, and now parenting. We get to focus on each other and really pay attention.
We also realized that it had been a year since we had been to the movies. We saw Iron Man right before TLB had Libby, so long ago that Robert Downey Jr. could have gone through three rehab stints. One of our babysitters offered to watch Libby one night a week, so we decided to inaugurate our first night back in Socialville with dinner and a movie.
A big night out deserves a big movie, so we saw Star Trek (set phasers on fun!). But what happened during our first foray into the movies since we had a kid? Someone brought their kids to our movie. A couple behind us had two children who were too young and too disinterested to sit through two hours of a Star Trek re-imagining. I have been through this before, and I will never understand why someone thinks its a good idea to bring kids to movies that aren't for kids. If I wanted to miss crucial moments of dialog because of a child distracting me, I could stay at home.
Luckily, the clue phone rang a few times and the parents took the kids outside when they really started acting up, so it didn't cramp our enjoyment too much and I didn't have to pull an Opposite Costanza in the theater. We were able to catch all of the little nerdy in-jokes J.J. Abrams packed into the movie, and we returned home satisfied that we had gotten out and gotten plugged back into to movie-going society.
Hopefully next time, everyone's kids will be at home.
1) "Hey Hey, My My (Into the Black)," Neil Young and Crazy Horse. I put It's better to burn out than to fade away right after Hope I die before I get old on my list of all-time great rock lines. The funny thing is that the authors of both of those lines have lived long after many of their contemporaries lived out those lyrics.
2) "The Have Nots," X. The thing that the Republican Party forgot when they ran against "socialism" last year is that the American people are only against government intervention when they don't need it. When Bear Stearns went down, even the biggest lassiez faire assholes who thought welfare queens should eat cake stuck their hands out for handouts. While I certainly wish the economy had not taken that terrible turn, it was pretty amusing to see how quickly Wall Street crapped itself and turned to Washington for a new pair of pants.
3) "Tangerine," Led Zeppelin. The tender ying to the juicy yang of "The Lemon Song." Who knew you could say so much with fruit?
4) "Devils & Dust," Bruce Springsteen. One of those artists I respect more than I enjoy. I appreciate him with my head, but for some reason most of his music has never hit me on an emotional level. I have to give him kudos for the way he looks: I hope I look that good when I'm 60 and sliding around a Super Bowl halftime stage.
5) "Memento," Public Property. What's more improbable than Iowa leading the way on legalizing gay marriage? Iowa producing a pretty damn good reggae band.
6) "Titanium Exposé," Sonic Youth. I've been told that the key to baking cookies is to use the right amount of butter: that the butter is what holds all the ingredients together. Kim Gordon is the butter in the cookie of Sonic Youth. Her bass keeps all the noise together, anchoring it to the song so that it doesn't dissolve into a help of melted mush.
7) "Stick It Out," Rush. For a nerdy band, they fared quite well in the Three Bulls Dirty-Sounding Song Title Awards, with this song placing along with "In The End" and my favorite, "Beneath, Between, and Behind." The irony is that, as much as I love Rush, I could never, ever have sex to Rush. Even if The Lovely Becky suffered some kind of pod-person personality change where she suddenly liked Rush, I would probably start air drumming and ruin the moment. Because few things kill the female libido faster than air drumming (except maybe playing Rock Band drums).
8) "These Days," Joy Division. Seriously creepy synths in the background, burbling like ghostly whispers. I'm relieved when the guitar comes in and chases them away with a six-string exorcism.
9) "Dragonfly Pie," Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks. This pie needs more butter. Or maybe less. Either way, it's a bit of a mess.
10) "Sultans of Swing," Dire Straits. One of the most perfect integrations of lead guitar and vocals ever. It's like there are two singers, except one of them is made of wood. You could say the same thing about Celine Dion, but here I mean it as a complement.
11) "Rebel Rebel," David Bowie. Hot tramp, I love you so. Especially when you show me your perfect, bouncy riffs.
Have a great Memorial Day weekend. And if you hear someone playing Freedom Rock, tell 'em to turn it up!
Yesterday The Lovely Becky and I went to the movies for the first time in a year. In fact, over the last year, we've been out alone only a handful of times. We decided it was time to start having some date nights.
We haven't really missed going out that much. We had plenty of time to have date nights during the decade we tried to have a kid, so we gladly traded those nights out for a chance to stay home and soak in our parenthood.
As much fun as that has been, we realized recently that we needed to take some time for ourselves. TLB and I have always been great talkers—even after nearly 15 years of marriage, we love talking with each other. Our best conversations have always been when we go out to eat, maybe because we avoid the easy distractions of TV, videogames, online poker, work, and now parenting. We get to focus on each other and really pay attention.
We also realized that it had been a year since we had been to the movies. We saw Iron Man right before TLB had Libby, so long ago that Robert Downey Jr. could have gone through three rehab stints. One of our babysitters offered to watch Libby one night a week, so we decided to inaugurate our first night back in Socialville with dinner and a movie.
A big night out deserves a big movie, so we saw Star Trek (set phasers on fun!). But what happened during our first foray into the movies since we had a kid? Someone brought their kids to our movie. A couple behind us had two children who were too young and too disinterested to sit through two hours of a Star Trek re-imagining. I have been through this before, and I will never understand why someone thinks its a good idea to bring kids to movies that aren't for kids. If I wanted to miss crucial moments of dialog because of a child distracting me, I could stay at home.
Luckily, the clue phone rang a few times and the parents took the kids outside when they really started acting up, so it didn't cramp our enjoyment too much and I didn't have to pull an Opposite Costanza in the theater. We were able to catch all of the little nerdy in-jokes J.J. Abrams packed into the movie, and we returned home satisfied that we had gotten out and gotten plugged back into to movie-going society.
Hopefully next time, everyone's kids will be at home.
1) "Hey Hey, My My (Into the Black)," Neil Young and Crazy Horse. I put It's better to burn out than to fade away right after Hope I die before I get old on my list of all-time great rock lines. The funny thing is that the authors of both of those lines have lived long after many of their contemporaries lived out those lyrics.
2) "The Have Nots," X. The thing that the Republican Party forgot when they ran against "socialism" last year is that the American people are only against government intervention when they don't need it. When Bear Stearns went down, even the biggest lassiez faire assholes who thought welfare queens should eat cake stuck their hands out for handouts. While I certainly wish the economy had not taken that terrible turn, it was pretty amusing to see how quickly Wall Street crapped itself and turned to Washington for a new pair of pants.
3) "Tangerine," Led Zeppelin. The tender ying to the juicy yang of "The Lemon Song." Who knew you could say so much with fruit?
4) "Devils & Dust," Bruce Springsteen. One of those artists I respect more than I enjoy. I appreciate him with my head, but for some reason most of his music has never hit me on an emotional level. I have to give him kudos for the way he looks: I hope I look that good when I'm 60 and sliding around a Super Bowl halftime stage.
5) "Memento," Public Property. What's more improbable than Iowa leading the way on legalizing gay marriage? Iowa producing a pretty damn good reggae band.
6) "Titanium Exposé," Sonic Youth. I've been told that the key to baking cookies is to use the right amount of butter: that the butter is what holds all the ingredients together. Kim Gordon is the butter in the cookie of Sonic Youth. Her bass keeps all the noise together, anchoring it to the song so that it doesn't dissolve into a help of melted mush.
7) "Stick It Out," Rush. For a nerdy band, they fared quite well in the Three Bulls Dirty-Sounding Song Title Awards, with this song placing along with "In The End" and my favorite, "Beneath, Between, and Behind." The irony is that, as much as I love Rush, I could never, ever have sex to Rush. Even if The Lovely Becky suffered some kind of pod-person personality change where she suddenly liked Rush, I would probably start air drumming and ruin the moment. Because few things kill the female libido faster than air drumming (except maybe playing Rock Band drums).
8) "These Days," Joy Division. Seriously creepy synths in the background, burbling like ghostly whispers. I'm relieved when the guitar comes in and chases them away with a six-string exorcism.
9) "Dragonfly Pie," Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks. This pie needs more butter. Or maybe less. Either way, it's a bit of a mess.
10) "Sultans of Swing," Dire Straits. One of the most perfect integrations of lead guitar and vocals ever. It's like there are two singers, except one of them is made of wood. You could say the same thing about Celine Dion, but here I mean it as a complement.
11) "Rebel Rebel," David Bowie. Hot tramp, I love you so. Especially when you show me your perfect, bouncy riffs.
Have a great Memorial Day weekend. And if you hear someone playing Freedom Rock, tell 'em to turn it up!
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Top Ten Tuesdays: How are we planning to improve vehicle emissions and fuel economy?
10) Drivers receiving fellatio must use cruise control to prevent fuel-wasting surges of acceleration.
9) Commissioning The Eagles to write a new PSA, "Life in the Carpool Lane."
8) All automotive air-conditioning will return to it's lowered-window-based roots.
7) Dominos will now promise to deliver pizzas within three hours in order to save gas.
6) Motorists will receive tax credits by planting trees in their trunks.
5) New talking cars will berate us into getting off our goddamned fat asses and walking to the corner store instead of driving two blocks like a bunch of lazy fucks.
4) Funding fuel efficiency research by requiring men with small penises to pay an Overcompensation Tax when purchasing large trucks and SUVs.
3) Anyone killing themselves with car exhaust can purchase pre-suicide carbon credits online.
2) Developing the new Ford Flintstone, the world's first foot-powered car.
1) Paying a lot more for that environmentally-friendly muffler.
9) Commissioning The Eagles to write a new PSA, "Life in the Carpool Lane."
8) All automotive air-conditioning will return to it's lowered-window-based roots.
7) Dominos will now promise to deliver pizzas within three hours in order to save gas.
6) Motorists will receive tax credits by planting trees in their trunks.
5) New talking cars will berate us into getting off our goddamned fat asses and walking to the corner store instead of driving two blocks like a bunch of lazy fucks.
4) Funding fuel efficiency research by requiring men with small penises to pay an Overcompensation Tax when purchasing large trucks and SUVs.
3) Anyone killing themselves with car exhaust can purchase pre-suicide carbon credits online.
2) Developing the new Ford Flintstone, the world's first foot-powered car.
1) Paying a lot more for that environmentally-friendly muffler.
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Hugging a Zombie
Due to occult forces beyond my control, I was unable to show a certain zombie some love on Friday. However, I would be remiss if I did not thank Zombie Rotten McDonald (born Billy Pilgrim) for the endless amount of entertainment he has provided on his blog and in the comments section of many others. He checks grammar with the ferocity of an East German border guard asking for papers, refuses to apologize for his love of the band Rush, and was generous enough to let an Adorable Girlfriend crash at his place when she had no blogwhere to go (although I suspect he's on the couch--by choice, of course).
He's been a true blog friend and even though we've never met, I know he's a good guy. Even if he does eat brains. And I'll honor him in a way I think he'll appreciate.
He's been a true blog friend and even though we've never met, I know he's a good guy. Even if he does eat brains. And I'll honor him in a way I think he'll appreciate.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Top Ten Tuesdays: What do we regret saying during sex?
10) Are you painting a fence down there?
9) I've always wanted to try a little one.
8) You be Condi and I'll be Dubyah.
7) Why don't you take off your sweater? Oh, you did.
6) Do you smell that?
5) Give it to me, Javier! I mean, Brando.
4) Just between you and me, I'm a Senator.
3) Oh, Mommy!
2) Is it in?
1) Do you mind if I use your name when I write about this on my blog?
9) I've always wanted to try a little one.
8) You be Condi and I'll be Dubyah.
7) Why don't you take off your sweater? Oh, you did.
6) Do you smell that?
5) Give it to me, Javier! I mean, Brando.
4) Just between you and me, I'm a Senator.
3) Oh, Mommy!
2) Is it in?
1) Do you mind if I use your name when I write about this on my blog?
Tuesday, May 05, 2009
Top Ten Tuesdays: Why are we leaving the Republican party?
10) Found walking upright and breathing through nose so refreshing, we decided to do it permanently.
9) "Supermajority" sounds so bitchin'.
8) Constant whining about religious persecution got on our last goddamned nerve.
7) Tired of consoling drunk, sobbing Newt Gingrich at 3am about the future of the Republican party.
6) Was only using conservatism for the tax cuts.
5) Wanted to join a party that would support our fetish for having a dominatrix bash our groin with a gavel while reading dirty-sounding words from Robert's Rules of Order.
4) Couldn't shake the feeling we were being watched when using the GOP men's room.
3) Three words: Palin in 2012.
2) Obama is just so dreamy.
1) Have you listened to these guys?
9) "Supermajority" sounds so bitchin'.
8) Constant whining about religious persecution got on our last goddamned nerve.
7) Tired of consoling drunk, sobbing Newt Gingrich at 3am about the future of the Republican party.
6) Was only using conservatism for the tax cuts.
5) Wanted to join a party that would support our fetish for having a dominatrix bash our groin with a gavel while reading dirty-sounding words from Robert's Rules of Order.
4) Couldn't shake the feeling we were being watched when using the GOP men's room.
3) Three words: Palin in 2012.
2) Obama is just so dreamy.
1) Have you listened to these guys?
Friday, May 01, 2009
Friday Random 11
Oh my God, Danny Gans is dead!
I'm going to have to pour a little on the floor in his honor this weekend. Maybe he really was sick when he called in.
1) "I Love NYC," Andrew W.K. I bought this CD thinking it was an ironic stab of binge-and-purge party rock. But my sensors detected no trace of irony, and no music should be this stupid on purpose. However, it also has the infectious catchiness that all great terrible songs have, so it will be in my head indefinitely.
2) "Your Generation," Generation X. The second-best thing Billy Idol ever did after "Dancing With Myself." It'd be the best if it was about 30 seconds shorter—it's just a little flabby for first-wave punk, and nobody wants to see a sweaty guy who's about 20 pounds too heavy for the cut-off Damned shirt he's wearing.
3) "I'm Happy Just to Dance With You," The Beatles. See, here's how you can write a song about not taking your clothes off and having a good time. It's not telling you not to do something, but instead saying that the longing is so great, any chance for contact will be greatly appreciated. Such a fine line between clever and stupid.
4) "Bitter Sweet," Roxy Music. Starts out in melancholy Marlene Dietrich "Ja, Ich bin so miserable" fashion, before making a left turn at Düsseldorf and marching for a bit.
5) "Sidewalk Surfin' Girl," The Queers. The Ramones in many ways were simply playing the Beach Boys at warp speed, but this is much closer to a mash-up of 70s punk and Brian Wilson.
6) "Life's a Bitch," Nas. Life's a bitch, then you die. Unless you get to make rap records singing about that topic and the records go platinum. But with a beat this uber-groovy, he could be singing about Betty Crocker recipes and I would still dig it.
7) "Sheena Is a Punk Rocker," The Ramones. They had moments like this where they managed to sound like an AM radio hit without losing their essence. A neat trick for a band that previously sang about sniffing glue and beating annoying kids with baseball bats.
8) "Moonshiner," Uncle Tupelo. One of the things that great bands do is make their songs feel lived in. They did for this what Zeppelin did for "Gallows Pole": take a traditional folk song and make it feel not only like theirs, but feel like it comes from experience, even if it doesn't. Zowie Slot Mystery Bonus: Live footage is from The Blue Note in Columbia, MO, where my lovely wife saw them.
9) "Mamma Mia," ABBA. This will erase Andrew W.K. from my head. I've never been quite able to hate them, although I've tried, so I surrender to their sparkly, bearded, tastefully-assembled splendor.
10) "Our Love Will Last Forever and Ever," The Mr. T Experience. I recently finished reading Larry Doyle's I Love You Beth Cooper, which was essentially Superbad without the pictures of cocks or the cops. It was also clearly written by an older guy trying to capture the zeitgeist of high school, without trying to reveal that the writer knows what zeitgeist is. To Mr. Doyle's credit, his book is as funny as it is completely unoriginal, which is fine in my book). And speaking as someone who has attempted and failed miserably to write a high school novel, those books are really fucking hard to pull off without seeming like a fake or a hack. Which is why I have always been impressed by The Mr. T Experience. Over and over again, singer Frank Portman manages to capture perfectly the hormone-fueled angst of teenagers long after his teens had passed. That's also why I have yet to crack open Portman's high school novel King Dork. I'm worried he won't be able to top in 300 pages what he's usually accomplished in three minutes or less.
11) "Black Hole Sun," Soundgarden. For all their Louder Than Love loudness—they were touted as a grunge reincarnation of the mighty Zeppelin at one point—they hit two of their highest marks when they slowed it and toned it down for this song and "Fell on Black Days."It just goes to show that success takes many strange forms, like starting out your life in baseball's minor leagues and winding up as the Vegas Entertainer of the Year by doing impressions.
R.I.P., Danny Gans. I never saw your act, but you still managed to entertain me.
I'm going to have to pour a little on the floor in his honor this weekend. Maybe he really was sick when he called in.
1) "I Love NYC," Andrew W.K. I bought this CD thinking it was an ironic stab of binge-and-purge party rock. But my sensors detected no trace of irony, and no music should be this stupid on purpose. However, it also has the infectious catchiness that all great terrible songs have, so it will be in my head indefinitely.
2) "Your Generation," Generation X. The second-best thing Billy Idol ever did after "Dancing With Myself." It'd be the best if it was about 30 seconds shorter—it's just a little flabby for first-wave punk, and nobody wants to see a sweaty guy who's about 20 pounds too heavy for the cut-off Damned shirt he's wearing.
3) "I'm Happy Just to Dance With You," The Beatles. See, here's how you can write a song about not taking your clothes off and having a good time. It's not telling you not to do something, but instead saying that the longing is so great, any chance for contact will be greatly appreciated. Such a fine line between clever and stupid.
4) "Bitter Sweet," Roxy Music. Starts out in melancholy Marlene Dietrich "Ja, Ich bin so miserable" fashion, before making a left turn at Düsseldorf and marching for a bit.
5) "Sidewalk Surfin' Girl," The Queers. The Ramones in many ways were simply playing the Beach Boys at warp speed, but this is much closer to a mash-up of 70s punk and Brian Wilson.
6) "Life's a Bitch," Nas. Life's a bitch, then you die. Unless you get to make rap records singing about that topic and the records go platinum. But with a beat this uber-groovy, he could be singing about Betty Crocker recipes and I would still dig it.
7) "Sheena Is a Punk Rocker," The Ramones. They had moments like this where they managed to sound like an AM radio hit without losing their essence. A neat trick for a band that previously sang about sniffing glue and beating annoying kids with baseball bats.
8) "Moonshiner," Uncle Tupelo. One of the things that great bands do is make their songs feel lived in. They did for this what Zeppelin did for "Gallows Pole": take a traditional folk song and make it feel not only like theirs, but feel like it comes from experience, even if it doesn't. Zowie Slot Mystery Bonus: Live footage is from The Blue Note in Columbia, MO, where my lovely wife saw them.
9) "Mamma Mia," ABBA. This will erase Andrew W.K. from my head. I've never been quite able to hate them, although I've tried, so I surrender to their sparkly, bearded, tastefully-assembled splendor.
10) "Our Love Will Last Forever and Ever," The Mr. T Experience. I recently finished reading Larry Doyle's I Love You Beth Cooper, which was essentially Superbad without the pictures of cocks or the cops. It was also clearly written by an older guy trying to capture the zeitgeist of high school, without trying to reveal that the writer knows what zeitgeist is. To Mr. Doyle's credit, his book is as funny as it is completely unoriginal, which is fine in my book). And speaking as someone who has attempted and failed miserably to write a high school novel, those books are really fucking hard to pull off without seeming like a fake or a hack. Which is why I have always been impressed by The Mr. T Experience. Over and over again, singer Frank Portman manages to capture perfectly the hormone-fueled angst of teenagers long after his teens had passed. That's also why I have yet to crack open Portman's high school novel King Dork. I'm worried he won't be able to top in 300 pages what he's usually accomplished in three minutes or less.
11) "Black Hole Sun," Soundgarden. For all their Louder Than Love loudness—they were touted as a grunge reincarnation of the mighty Zeppelin at one point—they hit two of their highest marks when they slowed it and toned it down for this song and "Fell on Black Days."It just goes to show that success takes many strange forms, like starting out your life in baseball's minor leagues and winding up as the Vegas Entertainer of the Year by doing impressions.
R.I.P., Danny Gans. I never saw your act, but you still managed to entertain me.
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