T: The Party, Part III

Our story so far:
Part I
Part II


FBI AGENT DEMI KRATT, member of the T alien Fifth Column, LUCAS, and his human partner, JEROME, drive to a large Tea Party rally in Scranton, Pennsylvania. LUCAS is on the phone.

LUCAS
I need you, buddy...No, I know it’ll work. The cameras will be rolling, you just have to do that voodoo that you do so well...I knew I could count on you. (hangs up his phone)

AGENT KRATT
Who was that?

LUCAS
Our secret weapon against the T’s.

AGENT KRATT
Lucas, how are we going to stop them? They have superior technology, political momentum, a built-in distrust of the media....

LUCAS
But here’s what the T’s don’t have: control over their sexual arousal.

JEROME
I’ll testify to that.

LUCAS
T females work very hard to keep their arousal under control, because when they do become aroused, they emit three times the usual body heart in order to send a signal to the males that they’re ready to mate. If we get Queen Palin to get hot and bothered.....

AGENT KRATT
Her human skin will melt off!

JEROME
And that means goodbye political cougar and hello dragon lady.

AGENT KRATT
How is your friend going to manage to get Palin hot and bothered in front of a rally full of people?

LUCAS
The T’s may be very advanced in many ways, but our sense of what we find sexy lags about 25 years behind humans. My friend will fit the bill perfectly.

The three arrive at the Tea Party rally in Scranton and try to maintain a low profile in the crowd. Jerome jumps.

JEROME (whispering)
Lucas, baby, I appreciate the attention, but now is not the time.

LUCAS
The time for what?

JEROME
You pinched my ass.

LUCAS
No I didn’t?

Jerome looks behind him and sees a big, burly man wink at him.

JEROME
Hmpf, I swear they should hold this tea party in the closet.

They settle into the middle of the crowd as Palin comes on stage. The crowd goes crazy. Cameras everywhere flash and transmit her speech to all the major news outlets.

PALIN
Hi ya, Scranton! Are you ready to take back Pennsylvania? (The crowd cheers wildly.) Are you ready for freedom and liberty and patriotism and Jesus and lower taxes and good times? (The crowd is almost orgasmic.) Then I’m your gal!

Outside of the crowd, a vintage black Pontiac Firebird approaches the crowd. It doesn’t slow down as it gets closer, until the drive slams on the brakes and stops with the hood pointed toward the stage. The crowd grows quiet as they and Palin stop to look at the car.

The T-tops pop off as Whitesnake’s “Here I Go Again” begins to play. Actor MARC SINGER emerges out of the top and falls across the hood of the car. He wears a headband, a muscle shirt, and jeans so tight, it’s easy to tell he’s circumsized.

PALIN
Oh my!

As the song plays, Singer writhes and spreads his legs on the hood. The media cameras all follow him and then capture Palin’s reaction.

PALIN (waving her hand)
Is it getting hot out here?

During the guitar solo, flips on his front and dry humps the hood. Palin’s skin begins to glow and slowly melt off her face. When Singer flips back over and elevates his pelvis fully in the sky, the last of Palin’s mask falls off, revealing her natural reptilian look. Other T females have the same reaction, their fake skin dropping off, and even a couple of T males also heat up, including Lucas.

JEROME
Lucas! Don’t tell me you’ve got the hots for that little County Seat tramp!

LUCAS
I’m sorry, I’m only reptilian. I can’t help myself. We had a thing back in the 80s.

The rally devolves into screaming chaos as the Tea Partiers run from the revealed T’s. Palin is oblivious, however, completely focused on Singer’s gyrations.

PALIN (leaping off the stage)
Come to mama!

She rushes Singer before being restrained by police.

PALIN
Let me go! I need to mate! And feed!

They take her away and the other T’s are also rounded up, including Lucas. Marc Singer comes over to speak to Lucas.

SINGER
Lucas! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to expose you, too. Although I have to say, I’m flattered you still feel that way about me. I’ll get your bail money.

JEROME (pushes him away)
Save your money and get that mullet cut, son. I’ll take care of the bail.

AGENT KRATT
Mr. Singer, thank you so much. You’ve done a great service to your country, exposing the T’s just before the election.

SINGER
It’s all in a day’s work for The Beastmaster, ma’am.

AGENT KRATT
Okay, then....Well, gotta go.

SINGER
Say, need a ride in the Trans Am?

AGENT KRATT
I’m good, thanks. (Leaves quickly)

SINGER (watches her go)
Yeah, still got it.

Fast forward to November 3. Agent Kratt reads the newspaper with Lucas and Jerome.

AGENT KRATT
I can’t believe this. The T’s actually did better after they were exposed? How the hell is that possible.

LUCAS (reading)
“A tearful Glenn Beck helped marshal record turnout for an off-year election, telling his followers that political convictions don’t run skin deep, and that Sarah Palin’s heart was still the same, even if it was located where a human vagina would be.”

JEROME
Get this, Rush Limbaugh said, “The T’s have what we need, a little cold blood to make the kind of ruthless government cuts that our warm-blooded bleeding hearts won’t. And as a bonus they’ll actually eat the rats running Washington.”

LUCAS
I hate to say it, Demi, but your humans are getting exactly what you deserve.

AGENT KRATT
Maybe you’re right. (She takes out her cell and makes a call)

JEROME
Who are you calling?

AGENT KRATT
Marc Singer.

JEROME
Get out!

AGENT KRATT
Like Lucas says, I’m getting what I deserve. Compared to life under the T’s, a weekend of wiggling under The Beastmaster doesn’t seem so bad.

LUCAS
Hey, we could double.

JEROME
Not on your life

THE END?

T: The Party, Part II

Read Part I


AGENTS DEMI KRATT and BENNY DIX are caught by an identical pair of security guards working for SARAH PALIN. The guards march Kratt and Dix into the warehouse before Palin, CHRISTINE O’DONNELL, and GLENN BECK.

PALIN (wiping moose blood off her mouth)
Well, well, well, look what we have here.

AGENT KRATT
My God, what did you do to that moose?

PALIN
I believe it’s what you humans call dinner.

AGENT KRATT
But you ate it like a...like a....

On Palin’s cheek where she was struck the book, a flap of skin falls open. Underneath, Ageny Kratt sees a bit of green, scaly skin.

AGENT KRATT
...a snake!

PALIN (noticing her skin and patting it back into place)
Snakes slither. I’m more like a....(she moves closer and sticks out a long tongue) komodo dragon.

AGENT DIX
So much for that lust in my heart.

AGENT KRATT
My God, what are you?

PALIN
Our name is unpronounceable in your silly tongue, but you can call us the Ts. (She pinches Agent Kratt’s cheek). And lucky for you I just ate or I’d be calling you dinner. I’ll save you for later instead.

O’DONNELL
But I’m hungry now! Can’t I eat her?

PALIN
No! You didn’t finish your moose, so no human for you.

BECK
Your highness, I didn’t agree to this. Kidnapping. Murder. Cannibalism. (his eyes start to get moist) I’m scared.

PALIN
If you don’t shepherd your sheep to those polls on Tuesday, you’re going to be terrified. (She licks the side of his face like she’s tasting him, then slaps his bottom.) And don’t forget what I promised you if we win. Now get! (turns to Kratt and Dix) Come with me so I can blow your mind before I eat your brain for breakfast tomorrow.

Palin and a pair of guards escort Kratt and Dix to a hidden room in the warehouse. It’s a futuristic control room, staffed by more of the guards. They step onto a series of circles and are instantly transported from the warehouse to a spaceship. The spaceship is full of aliens, some disguised as humans, others walking around in their natural lizard forms. Outside of a window, Kratt and Dix see several other ships waiting on the dark side of the moon.

PALIN
Take a long look, because this is what awaits your precious little Earth. Soon we’ll have control of your Congress, then the White House, and finally the planet.

AGENT KRATT
But why? What do you want?

AGENT DIX
Definitely the White House and dinner. Not necessarily in that order.

PALIN
I’ll put this in terms you can understand. Think of us as the United States and the Earth as Mexico.

AGENT KRATT
My God, you sick bastards.

PALIN
As much as I would love to tell you about our diabolical plans, I have an election to help win and have to get to Scranton. I’ll see you on my dining room table tomorrow morning.

Palin leaves as the guards lock Kratt and Dix in a holding area.

AGENT KRATT
Benny, what the hell is going on?

AGENT DIX
Well, I hate to say it, but I think the crazy guy at the rally was right. Always a bad day when that happens.

Outside the door, there’s the sound of a scuffle and two loud thumps. The door swings open. An African American man, LUCAS, enters. He’s clad in a three-piece American flag suit.

LUCAS
My name’s Lucas. I’m here to rescue you.

AGENT KRATT
Aren’t you a little black for a Tea Partier?

LUCAS
I am the black Tea Partier. I was at the rally today, holding the “Obama is not my homeboy” sign.

AGENT DIX
Oh yeah, I saw you on Fox the other day. And last week, for that matter.

LUCAS
I’m the Diversity Specialist. I make sure I tell the media where I will be so that I get filmed at all the rallies.

AGENT KRATT
How do we know this isn’t a trap? How can we trust you?

LUCAS
You can trust me and maybe live, or not trust me and definitely get eaten tomorrow. Believe me, I’m in as much danger as you are.

Lucas reaches into his eyes and takes out some prosthetics, revealing a couple of yellow, reptilian eyes. He also flashes his long tongue.

LUCAS
I’m a T and a member of a resistance group called the Fifth Column.

AGENT DIX
How original.

LUCAS
We’re a group of T’s who want to stop what Queen Palin is doing and live peacefully with humanity.

AGENT KRATT
But I don’t understand. What do the T’s want? Why are they running for office?

LUCAS
I’ll explain everything, but we need to get out of here first. Just try to act like one of us.

The three of them sneak out and head for the transporter room. However, the guards there are checking credentials.

LUCAS (whispering)
When I make a move, step on the transporter quickly.

A guard asks for their credentials. Lucas strikes the guard’s throat.

LUCAS
Now!

Kratt and Dix get on the transporters. Lucas throws the switch and also drops what looks like a grenade. They beam out of the room just as it explodes.

They materialize in a field.

LUCAS
I bought us a little time, but we need to get out of here now.

Lucas turns to lead them away, but Dix pulls out an alien-looking gun and strikes him on the back of the head. Kratt looks on in disbelief as Dix pulls out his eyeball prosthetics, revealing reptilian eyes. He points the weapon at Kratt.

DIX
God, you’d think a race that can travel across the universe could make fake eyes that don’t itch.

AGENT KRATT
You’re one of them?

DIX
You always were slow on the investigation, Demi.

AGENT KRATT
But you’ve been my partner for years.

DIX
That’s why you trust me. We’re like your lizards, Demi, patient, calculating, waiting for the perfect time to strike. And very, very cold blooded.

Dix speaks into an intercom in the clicking tongue of the T’s. But as he does, a figure emerges out of the woods and jabs him with a black rod. Dix writhes in electrified agony and collapses. The man, JEROME, rushes to Lucas’s side.

JEROME
Lucas, baby, are you hurt?

Lucas opens his eyes. Jerome lets out a cry of relief and gives him a kiss before helping him to his feet.

LUCAS
Agent Kratt, this is Jerome, my...friend.

JEROME
Friend? I rescue you and get downgraded to friend?

AGENT KRATT
It’s okay, you don’t have to hide your relationship from me. Jerome, are you...one of them?

JEROME
You know it. Queer as the driven snow.

AGENT KRATT
No, I meant a T.

JEROME
Earthling through and through, same as you, sister.

LUCAS
Jerome is why I became a member of the Fifth Column. I used to believe in everything the T’s stood for. Then I met him. Our relationship—T and human—is forbidden by the Queen and the T Council. I would be put to death for it. That’s what motivated many of us to start the movement.

JEROME
Black, gay, and alien is no good for their T's either.

AGENT KRATT
But why the stuff with the government, the Tea Party? Why not just attack? Those ships were huge.

JEROME
As much as I love story time, we better skeedaddle before we have company. My car’s over here, Lucas can do his Basil Exposition imitation while I drive.

They leave in Jerome’s car.

LUCAS
Here’s the short version. The T’s—we—are a predatory group of entrepreneurial aliens, moving from world to world and stripping them of their resources. We are very advanced, but not invulnerable. We bleed, we die, and our ships, while large, can be felled by things like nuclear weapons. Plus, frontal assaults are messy. Resources get destroyed, lives get lost, and our PRM gets lower.

AGENT KRATT
PRM?

LUCAS
Planet Rape Margin. So we infiltrate, gain control of governments and weaken them to the point where we can take whatever we need in the name of “free market principles.” By the time people figure out what’s going on, we’re on our way to the next planet.

We’ve been eyeing earth for decades and building to this moment ever since we created the John Birch Society. Once the Queen appears, that’s the final phase before the PLP begins.

AGENT KRATT
PLP?

LUCAS
Planetary Liquidation Process. The plan is to gain control of Congress, impeach your current president on grounds that he’s not a citizen, and pave the way for the Queen to assume control.

AGENT KRATT
President Palin.

JEROME
God, that gives me the willies even without the alien part.

AGENT KRATT
Well, we’ve got to stop them? The election is in a few days. We have to tell the media.

JEROME (laughs harshly)
Tell them what? That Palin’s an alien. Even if they believed you, the right wing would think it’s just left-win bias. We need proof.

AGENT KRATT
Can’t we show them you, Lucas?

LUCAS
Palin will just deny it and again, you get the media bias thing. No, we have to get her to reveal herself.

JEROME
Oh, yeah, Lucas, she’s just going to take off her face on national TV.

LUCAS (smiles)
No, but we can make her show her true face. (He takes out his cell phone and starts dialing.)

AGENT KRATT
Who are you calling?

LUCAS
An old friend who just might be able to solve our problem.

Continue to Part III.

T: The Party, Part I

At a Tea Party rally, two FBI agents, AGENTS DEMI KRATT and BENNY DIX, observe a crowd of protesters dressed in American flag-decorated outfits or colonial dress. Agent Kratt reads one of the signs that has a picture of Obama with a square mustache drawn on his face.

AGENT KRATT
“Hitler was a community organizer.” What the hell does that even mean? I swear, being here is like swimming in a gene pool with a broken filter.

AGENT DIX
Hey now, where’s your patriotic spirit? Look at how creatively these folks wear their American flags. I see flag hats, flag shirts, flag pants, flag...is that guy wearing a tent?

AGENT KRATT
It’s a muumuu. You know, you’re right. Let’s stay focused on that bomb threat.

AGENT DIX
You mean our wild goose chase? It was probably called in by Keith Olbermann.

AGENT KRATT
Still have to do our job, Benny. Do you see anybody who looks suspicious?

A man in a three-corner hat, breeches, and stockings walks by.

AGENT DIX
Is that a trick question?

They move through the crowd. The rally begins, and CHRISTINE O’DONNELL appears on stage to thunderous applause.

O’DONNELL
Thank you, my fellow patriots. You know, when I was young, I was on the wrong path, doing whippets from cans of Reddi-Wip, kissing boys who weren’t my husband and going to black masses. But I realized the error of my ways and found salvation through Jesus and tax cuts. That’s why we’re here, to keep more money in our pockets so we can invest more in Christ’s love. And no one combines Christianity and limited government like our next speaker, Governor Sarah Palin!

SARAH PALIN appears in a leather jumpsuit. The crowd erupts in ecstasy. Agent Kratt sees women weeping, men swooning, and children standing in still rapture in her presence.

AGENT KRATT
Don’t you find this a little creepy, Dix?

AGENT DIX (also mesmerized by Palin)
What? (snaps out of it) No. Hey, is it considered adultery if you fantasize about what you’d do to a woman if she was your wife?

AGENT KRATT
Jesus Christ.

AGENT DIX
I know. Why he’d have to rule out lust in your heart?

PALIN
How y’all doin’? It’s so great to be here in the great state of (squints to read teleprompter) Washington, D.C. You know, they say that the government that governs best is the government that governs least. Well, I’m here to tell y’all that no one will govern less than we will!

Agent Kratt sees a man dressed in a hooded sweatshirt and carrying a backpack. He’s acting strangely. Kratt follows the man as he pushes his way through the crowd and toward the fron, talking to crowd members along the way.

MAN
Aliens! We’ve got to stop the aliens!

The others in the crowd nod and agree with him.

RALLY ATTENDEE
Right on, brother, we gotta stop those aliens from taking our jobs and send them back to Mexico.

MAN
No, these aliens!

He reaches into his backpack and pulls out a thick book. Agent Kratt tries to stop the man before he can act, but he throws the book toward Palin. It flies in the air and hits her in the face. Chaos breaks out as security swarms to cover Palin. O’Donnell grabs the microphone.

O’DONNELL (screaming)
Remain calm! EVERYONE REMAIN CALM, FOR CHRIST SAKE!

The man continues to struggle and resist arrest. He looks Agent Kratt in the eyes.

MAN
They’re not who they seem! They’re coming for us! They’re going to take over and destroy everything.

Kratt struggles to subdue him, but he hands her a piece of paper.

MAN
Follow her and you’ll find out. You see that she’s really a....”

Before he can finish, one of the private security guards for Palin knocks the man out. Agent Kratt protests but the man is out cold and taken away. She opens the piece of paper and sees an address written on it.

After the commotion dies, Agents Kratt and Dix talk with Palin.

AGENT KRATT
Are you okay, governor?

PALIN (holding her cheek)
I would be better if you could have stopped that madman from assaulting me, but otherwise, yes, I’m fine.

AGENT KRATT
I’m sorry that we couldn’t reach him sooner.

AGENT DIX
At least he didn’t have a bomb.

PALIN
What the heck did he throw at me anyway?

AGENT DIX (holds up the book)
A cook book. I’m not sure why.

AGENT KRATT
Maybe he was just a good conservative trying to remind you where a woman’s place is.

PALIN (glowers at Kratt)
If that’s all, Agent Kratt, I’d like to get back to work. I have a country to rescue.

AGENT KRATT
Of course, governor. (under her breath) Knock yourself out, please.

Kratt and Dix start to leave the scene.

AGENT KRATT
Did you think there was anything unusual about that?

AGENT DIX
You mean aside from a crazy man yelling about aliens and hurling a cookbook at the possible next president of the United States. No, why?

AGENT KRATT
That book hit her square in the face, but I didn’t see any blood, a bruise, or a scratch.

AGENT DIX
They grow ‘em tough in Wasilla.

AGENT KRATT
But what about the stuff that man said? About them not being who they seem?

AGENT DIX
Yes, when in doubt, listen to the crazy guy who throws books at people.

AGENT KRATT
He gave me this address. Told me to follow her.

AGENT DIX
You’re going to spy on Sarah Palin because some nut job said you should?

AGENT KRATT
I have a hunch.

AGENT DIX
Yeah, and I have a job and a pension I’d like to keep.

AGENT KRATT
I understand, Benny. You don’t have to come with.

AGENT DIX (sighs)
You’re lucky I don’t have a date tonight.

They get in their car and follow the address. The building is a warehouse in a dark, remote part of town. The scene looks deserted, until a cargo truck appears. Two men who like identical to the security guard who punched out the man at the Rally get out. They go around to the back of the truck and lead a moose out of the back into the warehouse.

AGENT KRATT
A moose? Why the hell would they be bringing a moose here?

AGENT DIX
Maybe the governor is homesick.

AGENT KRATT (getting out of the car)
I’m going in for a closer look.

AGENT DIX
Demi, are you crazy? Demi? Damn it!

He gets out of the car to follow his partner. They sneak around to the back of the warehouse and find a series of boxes that rise to a window. They climb and have a perfect view inside.

Palin, O’Donnell, and GLENN BECK stand inside, along with 20 of the security guards, each of whom look exactly alike.

PALIN
Jesus Christ, Beck! Do you know how close we were to losing everything?

BECK (crying)
I know, I know. I’m sorry, your highness.

O’DONNELL
Can I turn him into a newt?

PALIN
For the last time, dingbat, you’re not a real witch! Look, we need to speed things up. That book tore open my skin. Do you have any idea what would have happened if the cameras caught that? We need to win control of Congress next week and start implementing Operation Impeachment as soon as possible. Beck, save those waterworks for the cameras. You need to get your people out there and teabag those polls! (Takes a breath). God, I’m so hungry, I could eat a moose.

The guards lead the moose in. Palin starts to unhinge her jaw.

Agent Kratt watches in horror as there are terrible slurping and chewing sounds. She hides her eyes until things grow quiet. She looks again.

PALIN (her face bloody)
Oh, that hit the spot. But I have just enough room for dessert? (She pulls out a gerbil and holds it over her open mouth.)

Kratt’s face registers disgust. She’s about to rise to get away when a gun reaches her head. She turns and sees two of the security guards, holding her and Agent Dix at gunpoint. They raise their hands over their heads, and the guards march them toward the warehouse.

Continue to Part II

Top Ten Tuesdays: What are we having trouble figuring out?

10) Bra hooks

9) Peace in the Middle East

8) How to let gay people serve in the military without being all gay

7) Katy Perry and Russell Brand

6) Why donut holes taste better than whole donuts

5) How to appeal to the base instincts of the general electorate (Democratic Party only)

4) The Facebook

3) Where to stash the body

2) Whether Sarah Palin is a sign that God loves us, hates us, or has a really wicked sense of humor

1) How to make money by writing top 10 lists

Friday Random 11

It’s one more random than 10!

I watched some coverage of the Juan Williams firing last night. Williams was let go from NPR because he was on Fox News and said that when he sees Muslims on an airplane looking too Muslimy, he gets nervous.

Here’s the thing: I think NPR overreacted. I don’t think he should have been fired, because I do think he was trying to make (awkwardly) a point that just because he’s nervous about a group of people doesn’t mean they should be targeted for discrimination (how mighty white of him). If you want to be considered an objective reporter and analyst, it’s important to try and not venture into O’Reilly style clownery, but at the same time that line gets humped all the time these days. So I would have reprimanded him but not canned him.

Here’s the other thing: Juan Williams was a dumb ass. People who think that seeing Muhammad A. Muslim in his fashionable Mecca attire means he could be a terrorist need to take a good, long look at the pictures of the actual assholes who perpetrated 9/11. Were they wearing robes, head coverings, and sandals? Or were they trying NOT to stand out so they wouldn’t, you know, be stopped from their plans? Any terrorist worth his salt isn’t going to dress up in a Washington Times editorial cartoon terrorist outfit and try to get past airport security. Even shoe bomber Richard Reid didn’t look any more threatening than your run-of-the mill rock roadie. The guy you need to worry about is the well-dressed, clean-shaven guy in first class who should be relaxing and enjoying the flight but is instead muttering to himself and sweating. Could be nervous about flying. Could have had some bad foie gras. Or could be...A TERRORIST!

The beauty of this is that I watched the coverage on the Chicago Fox News. One of the anchors is a black woman, and I wondered what would happen if she said she didn’t trust white people because whites have done so many terrible things to black people over the centuries. Think the ‘Baggers would support her right to express her opinion?

Ranting over, time for music to soothe the Michael Savage beast....

1) “Folds in Your Hands,” Passion Pit. I don’t get into any particular band because they’re underground or cool or any of that stuff. After all, the other night I had trouble falling asleep because I was thinking about how I could improve the tactics of my adventuring party in the videogame Dragon Age: Origins. I’m not fooling anybody on the cool front.

Still, it’s nice when I have a little musical secret, a group I really like that doesn’t get a lot of recognition. I thought Passion Pit was one of those groups. Then I saw their CD on display at Target. Now, I will never begrudge anyone commercial success, and I hope they sell a bunch of copies. But I’d be lying if a little bit of me wasn’t disappointed.

2) “The Twistinside,” Everclear. My interest in them was somewhat, um, rekindled, when I realized that a young Christina Hendricks starred in their video for “One-Hit Wonder.” Although it seems like it should have been called “Two-Hit Wonders.” I also wish I was the kind of person who was above that joke.

3) “Send a Message to Her,” Beck. One of those artists I feel like I should like but really don’t. He’s incredibly creative and unpredictable and tries new things and yadda yadda yadda, but I’m always left feeling like I’m ready for the next song about 90 seconds in.

4) “Tiger Mountain Peasant Song,” Fleet Foxes. Great music for the transition from fall to winter. There’s such a clear, cold, refreshing aspect to the singing, like a brisk sunny day, but the sparse musical arrangement makes me think of tall trees that have lost most of their leaves.

5) “Rebel Rebel,” David Bowie. Only a great riff can be repeated over and over and over and over again for several minutes and not wear out its welcome. The funny thing about this song is that the bass has the most variation compared to the guitar and drums, and Bowie’s vocals manage to sound completely slathered in make-up but also really tough. Classic.

6) “Dry,” PJ Harvey. There’s something really cool about how this sounds. It’s a bit noisy, but there’s a lot of space between the noise, too. It reminds me of how a lot of Beatles songs sounded, where they were busy, but each element was allowed to breathe. If this was recorded today everything would get squished toward the middle and it would lose its ability to sound like a confessional, lament, and rant all at once.

7) “What a Wonderful Man,” My Morning Jacket. Random tangential story: An old friend of ours, Byron, recently got to play with My Morning Jacket along with Levon Helm and Donald Fagen. I haven’t seen Byron in years (except when he’s been on TV playing with his band, Ollabelle), but back in our New York days we went to see him play all the time, and The Lovely Becky and I even swapped apartments with him and his lovely wife. Anyway, the review for the show complimented Byron by saying he sounded like a young Rick Danko. When I read that, I felt so happy for him because I know that would have completely made his year. Funny how I can feel that way for someone I haven’t seen in a decade. I’d like to think he’d have the same reaction if someone called me, “the Dorothy Parker of the dick-joke set.”

8) “Caledonia Mission,” The Band. Creepy! THE SONGS ARE COMING FROM INSIDE THE HOUSE!

9) “Louie Louie,” Black Flag. Henry Rollins was the best vocalist in punk history. All the snarl and menace of Rotten, all the energy and righteous anger of Strummer, with a voice that sounded like washboard abs.

10) “Double Team,” Tenacious D. I’ve heard this album countless times and I still laugh at the jokes, especially at “the Buttress of Windsor,” “underpants,” and “hail Satan!”

11) “Campus,” Vampire Weekend. I was talking with my brother Tickle about the perils of dating in the age of Facebook. I’ve been on The Facebook long enough to see some relationships dissolve and the sometimes ugly break-up graffiti that gets left on someone’s wall. I am very thankful that I didn’t grow up with that hanging over my head. Sure, my enamored teenage self would have loved the prospect of Web cams, text pics, and the easy access to pictures of boobies. At the same time, I would have hated the possibility of any of my faults and inadequacies as a boyfriend to have been published and, even worse, Liked.

So here’s to being happy I grew up without the Internet. Not only did it save me embarrassment, but because I really had to work hard to see boobies, I think I appreciate them more. Not to mention trying to see what was happening on scrambled cable feeds trained me to spot an exposed nipple from up to 1500 kilometers away.

Have a great weekend!

Top Ten Tuesdays: What accusations are we making against our political opponents?

Extra-volume cold-calling edition!

12) Kissing of babies simply a cover to select the tastiest one for eating.

11) Refusal to get on the scale with a duck proves she’s a witch.

10) Plans to deliver a hefty tax cut to the wealthiest 1% of Americans by showing up at their doors and making them fish the money out of a g-string.

9) Plans to deliver a hefty tax hike to the wealthiest 1% of Amerians by showing up at their doors and making them shove the money into a g-string.

8) Love of Taco Bell belies soft stance on illegal immigration.

7) Participated in a World War II re-enactment wearing a French army uniform, which is just embarrassing.

6) Has never provided an adequate explanation for why all of these homosexuals keep sucking his cock.

5) Lack of marital affairs hints that opponent is hiding something.

4) Job creation plan hinges on most Americans becoming Indian or Chinese citizens.

3) Supports the invisible hand of the free market...in his pants.

2) Kissed a George W. Bush and liked it.

1) Is actually a politician.

Friday Random 11

It’s one more random than 10!

We’re closing on the U.P. House today. No more phantom cat pee. No more royal douchebags. No more 200-inch snowstorms. No more flight delays because the wheels of the plane are frozen to the tarmac.

I spent a good part of this summer feeling sorry for myself about the house—the collapse of the first sale, the low, low price of the second sale, the delay in selling it forcing us to move in with The Lovely Becky’s parents. Then we started looking around at what happened to the Chicago market, where it’s not unusual to see houses that lost six figures worth of value and still can’t find buyers. Suddenly taking six months to sell and getting a check (even a small one) seems like a blessing. I guess the definition of “lucky” lost a lot of its value if we’re considered in its bracket.

We’ve also put an offer on a place and hope to be back to our indie-label status in December. The upside for us is that the housing crash opened up a lot more possibilities for us. We’re in fact buying a place in John Hughes country, the sort of North Shore area that has a reputation as a breeding ground for privileged buttwipes who would serve as the rich antagonist against a less privileged buttwipe such as myself. Even though our particular neighborhood is not ostentatious, I had a bit of a dilemma in coming to terms with my eagerness to live in this area. Would I become more of a privileged buttwipe? Was I already carrying the privileged buttwipe gene, genetic code that might go viral should I acquire a certain level of equity? But as we went through our inspection yesterday, I couldn’t help but think of how much I dug the house and the neighborhood and the location relative to the rest of the city. I can see TLB and I growing old and Libby growing up quite happy here, to the point where it won’t surprise me my next piece of real estate will be one of Chicago’s many fine Polish cemeteries. That’s worth a little buttwipe risk.

If you ever catch me wearing an ascot, however, you have permission to run me over. On to the tunes....


1) “VCR,” The xx. A 2009 release that would have easily made my best-of 2009 list had I heard it before 2010. This entire album is fantastic: quiet, moody, hopeful, lonely, romantic...all packaged in something that sounds familiar yet (to me) feels refreshingly original.

2) “Silence Kit,” Pavement. I notice that our blog group seems to have slowed a bit. Most of us have been at this for at least a few years, and I do think it’s harder now to keep at it. Blogging feels like a relationship. After the honeymoon where it all feels new and exciting and you’re eager to try as many positions as possible, you settle into a routine. Routines can be a bit of a drag, and this blog has dragged in the last few months (at least) because I’ve had my hands full with life beyond these virtual walls. So the thought of quitting has popped up from time to time.

Yet, every time, I come back to one thing: I like the routine. The routine gives me comfort. And I still find thrilling sparks of energy from it, maybe not as frequently as I once did, but enough to leave me wanting more. Doing this for five years has also made me a vastly better writer than I was before I started blogging. It’s not a coincidence that, after fifteen years of unfinished futility, I got to the end of a novel draft in less than two years.

And, of course, there are the blogging relationships, the in-jokes and comments and kidding that I enjoy even more than my own writing. I don’t want to lose that, so I hope that our blogging group doesn’t break up. But if we do, we should definitely reform in a few years and cash in. We can start by blogging at New York’s Summerstage.

3) “Help, I’m Alive,” Metric. Speaking of blog groups, it was fantastic to meet Von along with Jennifer and Grizzled this week. There is nothing like enjoying the company of online friends, and then find out they are even better in person.

4) “Blankest Year,” Nada Surf. Just a great, go-to Friday song. Makes me happy, gets my foot tapping, doesn’t require a lot of thought yet doesn’t seem dumb.

5) “Rebellion (Lies),” Arcade Fire. I was a bit shocked when their latest album hit number one. Then I hear this and realize I shouldn’t be, because Arcade Fire know how to create indie arena rock meant to be played loud to a stadium or fairground full of people.

6) “Girls,” Beastie Boys. The newer, serious Beastie Boys may technically be better, but it’s not nearly as entertaining.

7) “Living Well Is the Best Revenge,” R.E.M. I know the murmur of Murmur and the other early R.E.M. records is a great part of their charm. But when I hear the loud, vibrant songs on Accelerate, I kind of wish they would go back and record some of those songs like this—a greatest hits revisited and turned to 11, or at least 8.

8) “Stupid Thing,” Aimee Mann. I know the meaning would not be at all appropriate, but I would love to make a Sarah Palin video set to this.

9) “Your Head Is on Fire,” Broken Bells. I don’t know if it’s getting older or being distracted or a quality control issue, but I’m finding 2010 to be a downer year for music. There was a lot of stuff I thought I’d really love, like this—The Shins merged with Danger Mouse, the hippest of hop for white people like me—and yet I’m feeling slightly meh. I’m almost at the point where I’m going to give a disc three listens. If it doesn’t happen by then, it’s not going to.

10) “Summertime,” The Sundays. It’s always sad when you notice the shortening of the days. I’ll be cruising through the summer, feeling energized by having light well into prime-time hours, until one day it’s six o’clock and I have to take my sunglasses off so I can see the road.

11) “Highway to Hell,” AC/DC. Damnation has never sounded so appealing to me. I am also seriously missing my big, bad computer speakers (packed away) because it is a crime to not shake the foundations when this song comes on.

Have a great weekend.

Top Ten Thursdays: What personal failures are we glossing over with our jubilation about the Chilean mine rescue?

10) Failure to retrieve TV remote from deep, inaccessible area behind couch.

9) Lack of publisher interest in our Anderson Cooper fan fiction.

8) Inability to open the pickle jar.

7) Carelessness in texting penis photo while wearing tell-tale Packers Crocs and Super Bowl ring.

6) Ongoing unemployment status that’s trapping us in our apartment/bathrobe.

5) Afghanistan.

4) Absence of light at the end of our erectile dysfunction tunnel.

3) 20-pound weight gain while watching new season of Biggest Loser.

2) High likelihood of getting crushed like Chilean miners in a mine collapse during forthcoming election.

1) Writer’s block preventing us from creating a tenth joke for our top 10 list.

The Lovely Becky's lovely new novel

The Lovely Becky published her newest novel today, The Countess!

I'm really in awe that my wife has already published two novels. Seeing the amount of hard work, determination, creativity, and dedication to craft she has put into them has been an inspiration. You can tell that writing is her passion, and I am very, very proud of what she has accomplished.

Even better, she was interviewed today on WGN's Midday News, who elevated her to Dr. Lovely Becky status.

She has three readings scheduled and I hope to see some of you in the real-world Meatscape.

--Chicago, October 12, 7 pm, Sulzer Library

--Milwaukee, October 16, 2 pm, Boswell Book Company

--Iowa City, December 3, 7 pm, Prairie Lights Bookstore

Please join me in congratulating my amazing wife.

Friday Random 11

It’s one more random than 10!

This is the weekend before one of the biggest weekends we’ve had since Libby was born. We’re probably bidding on a house this weekend. Tuesday is the release of The Lovely Becky’s lovely The Countess. On Friday we close on our U.P. house, and it looks like this time it will be for reals.

The biggest is of course TLB’s book. The finished copies came a couple weeks ago, and I was filled with so much pride in my wife as we took the final version out of the box. She worked so hard on The Countess, and to see that hard work finally realized in a beautifully designed book filled me with a lot of happiness for her.

That’s one of the unheralded parts of marriage. You get to cheer for someone, to share their thrills, to make their happiness your happiness. Becky wrote a great book, which was made into a great looking book, and now it will hopefully have great success. I get to share all that with her.

Some of you can, too. She has a reading at the Sultzer Regional Library in Chicago on October 12 at 7:00 pm, and another in Milwaukee on October 16 at 2:00 p.m. at Boswell Book Company. Plus my dear wife is going to be on WGN on Tuesday at 11:30, getting interviewed at 11:30 am for the mid-day news. And all this comes after she got interviewed by Reuters last week. All that’s left is for her to pick out a new husband after she officially becomes a big deal.

As for me, I’m slowly revising my novel and, while the progress has been held up by things like cleaning crawl spaces, I’ve got 40 pretty solid pages, which is about 35 more solid pages than I’ve ever had, and I can feel myself slowly picking up steam again. The first part of the book is about 120 pages, and when I have that revised, I might be ready to send it out. I’m both excited and scared shitless by that prospect. But writing wouldn’t be fun without that combination of feelings.

1) “Carolina,” Josh Rouse. One of the things I like about having a big music collection is that I can get surprised when I’m randomly listening to it. I make a point to listen to everything at least once, but I had a period where I acquired more than I could keep up with. This is one of those acquisitions. So it’s nice when this bit of countrified pop pops up and gives me a very pleasant three minutes of enjoyment.

2) “1977,” The Clash. I know things have been bad in the last part of the ‘aughts, but as bad as the economy got, I don’t think the whole experience holds a candle to the late seventies. The late seventies sucked. There may be a lot of people who feel that our country is headed for the toilet, but in 1977, it felt like we were already looking up from the bottom of the bowl, and would have given anything to be back to the point of being held above it. The one upside was the malaise-rage salad of that decade fed great songs like this one.

3) “Hard to Explain,” The Strokes. I can’t listen to them without thinking of Triumph the Insult Comic Dog describing them as The Monkees with a drinking problem.

4) “Where Do I Begin,” The Chemical Brothers. The electronica equivalent of the power ballad, only instead of holding lighters in the air, we raise our glow sticks. I mean all of the preceding as a compliment, as I think this is a damn fine song.

5) “Congratulations,” Juliana Hatfield. This has MTV Buzz Bin production written all over it, and strangely I find mid-90s alternative (and mid-90s electronica for that matter) sounds more dated than 80s alternative, maybe because 80s alternative is currently the recycled style du jour right now (I’m looking at you, Killers). But this manages to surpass the legions of soft-loud-soft-loud Teen Spirit ripoffs that made 90s alternative both mainstream and eventually boring. I dig the crunch and the little obsessively dark lyrics. No video, which is too bad.

6) “Rock N Roll Singer,” Mark Kozelek. His acoustic cover of the classic AC/DC song, which transforms Bon Scott from the best dick-joke lyricist in rock history to something resembling a folky poet. Context is everything. Although this cover leaves off my favorite line from the song, “they wanted me to become a doctor or a lawyer-man.” Lawyer-man sounds so much cooler than just a lawyer.

7) “If I Can’t Change Your Mind,” Sugar. I guess alternative is here to stay on this week’s Random 11. I know it’s my mind attempting to superimpose order on random coincidence, but I love when I believe the iPod is really thinking, looking for patterns and maybe even reading what I’m writing and going, “oh, hey, what about adding Bob Mould to the Buzz Bin discussion?” Of course, while that would be cool, it could also be the start of the slippery slope toward self-aware AI that decides to enslave humanity under a radioactive cloud of sentient titanium-alloy tyranny.

8) “Everlong,” Foo Fighters. I rest my case. Of course, the iPod knows it can distract me from the Techno Tribulation End Days by selecting the best Foo Fighters song ever and one of the best songs from the 90s. I never tire of hearing this, especially the big rock finish after the quiet middle.

9) “So This Is Love?” Van Halen. An underrated track from an overrated band. I really don’t like even much of the classic Van Halen tracks much. Too overplayed, too oversexed, too undercooked, too underproduced. This, however, is a nice change of pace for them, a grooving track that still captures their strong points.

10) “Open All Night,” Bruce Springsteen. I think “open all night” may be the defining characteristic of modern America. You can drive around at any hour of the night and be confident you can get gas for your car and food for your belly. Even more, it’s become a greater expectation that you can find help at any hour of the day. I know if I need to call a company to ask about my account or discuss my service or whatever, I’m surprised if their customer service isn’t open 24/7. I think that’s kind of sad, even if I still expect it. Everyone deserves downtime, and more importantly, I think downtime is good for all of us.

11) “Poised and Ready,” Brendan Benson. You can never go wrong heading into a weekend with some nice power pop. Plus, I think TLB and I are poised and ready. We’re finally going to get closure on the U.P.—not that it was something awful, because it had a lot of nice moments. But we’re ready to move on. TLB is ready to move on after the mixed experience of her first book. And I’m ready to move on from being a wannabe writer to being an actual one, even if that involves getting the door slammed in my face, because that means I at least have something to reject.

Have a great weekend, and I hope I’ll see some of you at the readings this week!

Top Ten Thursdays: How are we showing our patriotism?

10) Shaving American flag into back hair.

9) Using burning copy of the First Amendment to burn down neighborhood mosque.

8) Exercising Second-Amendment rights by using guns to change the TV channel, signal lane changes, light the grill, celebrate goals at youth soccer games, and show asshole neighbor what we really think of his Halloween decorations.

7) Covering the hood of our NASCAR with the Declaration of Independence (between the Sony and BP decals).

6) Converting to Mormonism so we can claim Jesus for America.

5) Agreeing not to have intercourse with an apple pie until after we’ve married it.

4) Telling immigrants how awesome it is to live in the land of the free as we deport them back over the border.

3) Showing support for our troops by definitely really considering the possibility of joining the military at some potential point in the future.

2) Holding in nacho belch while “The Star Spangled Banner” is being played before kickoff.

1) Running for political office with the promise to restore America to its founding values! (minus the burning of witches, enslaving of blacks, exploitation of child labor, eradication of Indians, disenfranchisement of women, and a few other values.)

Top Ten Tuesdays: What misconceptions do we have about our own religions?

Special extended intellectual religious limbo edition!

12) 2% of American Muslims believe blowing themselves up is a great way to meet girls.

11) 28% of female white Protestants believe they can’t have orgasms because they’re not mentioned in the Bible.

10) 34% of Episcopalians can’t believe they’re not Catholic.

9) 38% of Mormons believe they can take an additional spouse as long as it contributes to the story arc of the series.

8) 53% of Lutheran comic book fans believe their religion was formed by Lex Luthor.

7) 57% of Southern Baptists believe that Jesus made the ball go through the uprights.

6) 65% of atheists believe that a lack of belief in God gives them the divine right to be really goddamned smug about belief in God.

5) 69% of male Jews believe that a woman lying with a woman as if she were a man is a sign that G-d loves us.

4) 71% of California Buddhists believe “Buddha” is slang for “weed.”

3) 80% of Catholic Pat Benatar fans believe hell is for children.

2) 87% of Jehovah’s Witnesses believe there is a Ninth Beatitude, “Blessed are the annoying, for they shall pester their way into the Kingdom of God.”

1) 99% of Evangelical politicians believe that saying America has a Judeo-Christian heritage is the same as Americans knowing what the fuck that actually means.

Top Ten Tuesdays: What marches are we organizing?

Special inflated participation edition!

11) The Rally to Restore America’s Masonic Heritage (requires secret handshake)

10) The Furry-Up for Keeping Craigslist Freaky

9) The March for Jerking Around Rally Attendance Statistics

8) The Million Man Limp Against Erectile Dysfunction (consult doctor if event lasts longer than four hours)

7) The Rally for Stuff White People Like to Scream About

6) The Coven to Show Dumb Fucks What Witchcraft Really Is

5) The Waterboarding of Glenn Beck (at the National Reflecting Pool)

4) The Nominal Excuse for Writing Off Your Trip to D.C.

3) The Quest Against Virginity (meet on WoW at 24:00 GST)

2) The 500-Ton Buffet Against Mobility

1) The Single-Man March to Kidnap Stephen Colbert and Jon Stewart Until One of Them Gives Me a Job.

Friday Rushdom 11

It’s one more Geddy than 10!

First, the bad news. My house drama had gotten more melo than mellow. It’s quite possible that this second deal may fall through because of a combination of greed and gall on the part of the buyers. I can’t tell if that is an upgrade from phantom cat pee as a reason to walk away from the deal. Actually, it is an upgrade, because then it’s most definitely them and not us.

I was rather depressed about this last night, as the thought of having to start all over again with selling the house made me want to just cave and get it over with. But The Lovely Becky (aka the Strong One) responded with “fuck them” (I may be paraphrasing). And she convinced me to say fuck them, too. It may be a buyer’s market. I may be somewhat desperate to sell, especially before the big, bad U.P. winter arrives. But the difference between accommodating and butthurt is consent, and I’m not consenting to being butthurt. I feel like I’m fighting off The Sisters in Shawshank Penitentiary. Maybe I’ll win, maybe I’ll lose, but at least I’ll take a swing.

However, the good news: I am going to see Rush this weekend!

I’m off to catch them with my old dungeon master, to revel in nerdom, to frolic in geekery, and maybe, just maybe, dine on honeydew. So this early edition of the Friday Random 11 will focus on my favorite band and my 30-year relationship with their music. For the h8rs, I will at least try to make it entertaining. And, as always, I welcome your ridicule in the comments.

1) “Tom Sawyer” Even my iPod knows where to start on a Rushdom 11. It’s the song that got me and millions of other budding nerds into the band. When I heard they were touring, I initially didn’t plan on going. Then I read that they were going to play ALL OF MOVING PICTURES! EVERY LAST SONG, EVERY LAST NOTE! OMFG!

Ahem. So I called my friend Tom, because the guy I had to go see Rush with was the guy I used to roll twenty-sided dice with.

2) “The Trees” The last time I saw them play this live, I yelled out “Fuck yeah!” as loud as I could. It was completely involuntary, like breathing or falling asleep after sex. It’s about trees and socialism and Canadian nationalism and lumberjacking. It’s fruitier than a mulberry bush. And yet I don’t care, because I air-guitar that solo every single time.

3) “Cinderella Man” My musical obsessions started in the fifth grade, after my parents gave me a boom box for Christmas. After an initial dabbling with Kenny Rogers Greatest Hits, I moved on to The Beatles, because I’d heard so many songs and thought Yellow Submarine was an awesomely weird movie. That gave way to months-long obsession with REO Speedwagon’s Hi-Infidelity, which in turn got me to pay more attention to new music and start taping off the radio. I liked a lot of rock and pop music, and I was just as likely to record AC/DC as I was Juice Newton.

One day I heard “Tom Sawyer” and really dug it. Rush was hitting their most popular stride, and one night the classic rock station set aside two hours to play all Rush (back when radio stations could do cool stuff like this). I took two of my Memorex tapes, full of The Knack and The Police and even Kool and the Gang, put scotch tape over the recording holes, and erased them so I could record the Rush marathon.

That’s when this Rush fan was born. I had no money then, and my family wasn’t that well off, so there were not many opportunities to buy albums. Instead, I played those two Memorex tapes over and over again for the next several years, until I got a job in high school and eventually acquired every Rush album. “Cinderella Man” was one of the last songs in the marathon and is the only time I’ve ever heard it on the radio.

4) “Between the Wheels” I was in eighth grade when Grace Under Pressure came out, and it was the first Rush album I bought on the release date (I saved my birthday money for the cassette.) My interest had been peaked by this song getting played a lot on the radio before the album came out. My mom took me to the record store (remember those?), and when we got home, I popped it into my boom box. I spent hours, literally, sitting on my bed listening to the album, just doing nothing but listening to it and letting my mind wander.

They dug this song out on the R30 tour (which I also saw with Tom), and it took me back to that time, to sitting on my bed and letting my mind make its own music video. I miss both having the time and the right imagination for doing that.

5) “Vital Signs” Did I mention that we’re going to he concert IN A LIMO? With a GIRL RUSH FAN?

Here is one of the great things about persecuted for your musical beliefs: You instantly bond with your fellow Rush nerds. Tom was having a neighborhood barbecue with his neighbors, including one woman named L. Somehow the subject of Rush came up (ed.-it was probably destiny). Tom sheepishly revealed he was a Rush fan. L revealed that she, too was not only a Rush fan, not only born with girl parts, but was also Canadian! That’s like finding a black unicorn.

L, it turns out, has some connections, and through said connections had limo to take her and some fellow fans to the concert. She invited us to come along. So I will get to drink and not drive to the concert in style. I may even stand up in the sunroof and take my shirt off.

Anyway, the reason I mention this is because Rush fans finding each other are like two Masons meeting in the produce section. They may keep their secret hidden, but they sense a force in the other. Tentatively, they make gestures and before you know it, they’re behind the bananas engaging in the secret handshake. And then sharing a limo to the next temple meeting.

L said she is dying to hear this song live, and because she has added an enzyme to my Rush digestive process, I hope they rock the shit out of “Vital Signs” for her.

6) “The Spirit of Radio” I also watched the new Rush documentary, Beyond the Lighted Stage, this week. My review would be, “Come for the kimonos, stay for the insightful interviews.” It was a great documentary, not just for fans, but also in examining how three Toronto misfits formed a super popular band by playing rock music that almost guaranteed its listeners would not get laid.

There’s a point, after they discuss Hemispheres—the album where the 18-minute title track details a battle between Apollo and Dionysus for the soul of humanity (no, really!)—that they said they were through with those kinds of albums. “The Spirit of Radio” was the first song off the next kind of album they were going to make. This song is not about Greek Gods or battles or black holes (also part of the story). Instead it’s a jab at the music industry and a celebration of music, wrapping up a cool riff, a catchy chorus, and a reggae-ish finale in five minutes. They would make those kind of style shifts every few albums.

I know a lot of Rush fans who long for the Hemispheres days, and who hate the style shifts, who wish they had made Hemispheres over and over again (a sentiment shared by some of the people interviewed in the documentary). But even though I dig the old stuff and haven’t always liked their shifts, I like that Rush keeps trying new things. It keeps them interesting to me, it keeps me buying their albums, and it ensures that no matter what they play on Saturday, I’ll be into it. Bonus: a little "Paint It Black" before they start the song.

7) “2112” (so long it takes two videos!) Twenty minutes. Seven parts. Three kimonos. Two instrumentals. One pentagram. This song is more or less a blueprint for why I became a Rush fan:

--It rocks hard. The problem I had with a lot of prog was that it was too soft. I was in junior high and, despite liking sports and being one of the bigger kids in class, I was kind of sensitive. I was a class clown buy not assertive. I liked music that had balls, because it made me feel like I had balls. This was pretty heavy stuff back in the days before Metallica. And...

--It’s chock full of science-fictiony goodness. I was always very creative, and between the ages of 10 and 15, my creativity was channeled mostly into fantasy and sci-fi stories. Because those stories are full of heroes, confronting cosmic evil, yadda yadda yadda. Plus, the hero in this story, after confronting the cosmic evil, kills himself at the end because he couldn’t quite overcome his evilness. That fed into my growing love of anti-heroes. Plus...

--It annoyed the cosmic shit out of my mother. What good is rock music if your parents like it?

8) “New World Man” The fantasy epics may have been what hooked me, but songs like these are why I stayed a fan. One of their songs I always prefer live because they crank up the rock quotient more.

9) “One Little Victory” It’s tough to rock out as you get older. First, I think there’s a natural impulse to mellow with age. Second, there’s perhaps a self-consciousness about trying to look young and instead looking like an old fool. Third, you are more likely to pull something.

In 2002, after a seven-year layoff, after their fiftieth birthdays, and after Neil Peart lost both his only daughter and wife, Rush came back with this song, a raging slab of heavy rock that kicked down the door. I may borrow that approach when I turn 50.

10) “Cygnus X-1” Even I have my limits. I didn’t even like this screeching sci-fi epic when I was in the target demographic for it. I’m taking a mulligan.

10) “Finding My Way/In the Mood (Live)” Much better. Dare I say catchy. This is the old, pre-Neil Peart Rush, singing about workin’, drinkin’, and amazingly enough, screwin’. They were practically slaves to their influences, and it reminds me of the early stuff I tried to write, where I was aping epic fantasy novels and gory horror stories. They do have riffs and chops galore, which I did not have way back then, and while riffs and chops alone may not make great music, they will get me on my feet and waving my hands in the air.

11) “Resist” And we go out with the lighters in the air. I would be lying if I said this doesn’t get me in the gut a little, especially with the unplugged treatment. Because, as I’ve said before, this band is the soundtrack to my life. I’ve moved a dozen times in the 30 years I’ve been a Rush fan, and for each of those moves, there’s a Rush album to go with them. Do I really think they’re the greatest band of all time? No. But are they my all-time favorite band? Hell yes. Every time I get some variation of the desert island album question, Moving Pictures is always at the top of the list. And now I get to go see them perform that all-time desert island disc in its entirety with a friend who has shared my Rush fandom for three decades.

Have a great weekend.

Top Ten Tuesdays: What's hurting us in the polls?

10) Screaming white people in intimidating breeches and tricorne hats.

9) Rumor that we will recycle all old people into Korans.

8) Failure to transform unemployed Americans to transform into employable Hispanics, Chinese, or Indians .

7) Audacity of government to rob us of our freedom to become ruined by crushing medical expenses.

6) Repeated attempts to win the blessing of voters least likely to give a shit.

5) Questions about our birth status when we couldn’t produce film of our mother giving birth to us onto a mat made of apple pie, next to an American flag, while a smiling Don Ho sings “Born in the U.S.A.”

4) Inability to articulate a plan to save America in less than 140 characters.

3) Ill-advised strategy of doing our own thinking instead of letting Jesus do it.

2) Constant discrimination against America’s marginalized, silenced, and downtrodden rich people.

1) Proliferation of polls saying that say we’re hurting in the polls.

Turning my sports pain into your reading pleasure

I am once again blogging about the Chicago Bears at NFL Blog Blitz. Since most comedy comes from pain, 2010 should be another rich year for this disgruntled Superfan.

I'm two posts into the season and have already compared this week's Bears victory to the Rod Blagojevich trial and made an allusion to Walt Whitman. My ultimate goal is to squeeze in a dick joke and an Emily Dickinson reference into the same post.

Next week: The Bears vs. Tony Romo's smile. I'm taking the smile and the points.

Friday Non-Random 1

I went to a funeral today. Pancake Z, one of Tickle's friends, lost his mom this week. Z demonstrated a large amount of fortitude in delivering a beautiful eulogy to his mother. I didn't know Z's mom but he made me wish I had, and I especially felt sad for her two young grandchildren. It's very tough to lose a loved one at an early age.

I came home and threw on some Drive-By Truckers, and this seemed rather appropriate.



I hope you have a good weekend and get to spend time with those you love.

Top Ten Wednesdays: Why are we outliving non-drinkers?

Special extra case of research edition!

11) Cancer cells way too hung over to report to work

10) Free market approach allows liver to decide what it wants to process

9) Inebriated state increases chances we’ll forget to get sick and die

8) Much more likely to get full eight hours of sleep after passing out at the beginning of the work day

7) Increased cardiovascular exercise due to frequent walks of shame

6) Negative nutritional benefits of late-night eating nullified by positive nutritional benefits of late-night vomiting.

5) Drinkers less likely to suffer from rectal bleeding due to lack of pole up ass about drinking

4) Strengthened immune system due to increased contact with disease-ridden dumpsters, bathroom floors, street gutters, and sexual partners

3) In the event of attack, a shattered beer bottle makes a much more effective weapon than plastic water bottle

2) Existence of irony increases likelihood of the drunkest person surviving a car accident

1) God’s will demands that water be turned into wine and not Propel

Friday Random 11

It’s one more random than 10!

When my dad turned 40, we bought him a T-shirt that said “40 and Sporty.” It was one of those cheap T’s with bubble-font lettering. He loved it and wore it pretty regularly. It was the kind of shirt you’d expect your dad to wear.

It suited him because it was the kind of funny shirt a man could wear. And my dad was indeed a man by the time he was 40. He had four kids, worked two jobs, served in a war, saw combat, saw his friends die, saw his father rot away from alcoholism...he saw all that shit and dealt with it, rose above it, and didn’t let it hold him back. After a lifetime of serious challenges, he was entitled to wear a goofy T-shirt.

I turn 40 tomorrow, and if I got a T-shirt that said “40 and Sporty,” I wouldn’t feel like I could wear it. I could wear it ironically, sure, but honestly I feel too old for ironic T-shirts. At the same time, I don’t see myself as a man the way I saw my dad as a man. I have a kid, but it’s only been for a couple years. The worst thing I’ve dealt with is infertility—a big problem but not the same as having your buddy die in your arms in a foreign jungle far from home. My dad worked hard, damn hard, to make sure we didn’t grow up the way he grew up, in a home with a broken-down father laid to waste by the bottle. Because of that, I didn’t have to struggle a lot, and frankly, it’s made me a little soft.

At the same time, I’m way more comfortable about turning 40 than I was about turning 30. My 29th year was fraught with angst about turning 30. I wouldn’t be “young” any more. I’d have to start wearing Dockers. I couldn’t listen to new bands without looking like an old poseur. Just thought after ridiculous thought popping into my head. The Lovely Becky even made fun of me in cake form, getting a cake in the shape of a tombstone that said “Here lies Brando’s youth.” (That cake was a masterpiece, with little chocolate crumbles for dirt.)

Then I went to bed, woke up, and realized I was the same dick-joke-loving doofus I was before, only a day older. It was one of the best lessons I’ve ever learned.

So even though I wish I was a little rougher around the edges, a little more battle-hardened, a bit more Don Draper (minus the serial adultery), I’m happy with where I’m at after four decades. Sure, as of tomorrow, any window I had to still be considered “a young man” will be forever closed. My foray back into exercise after a summer layoff has been my most painful yet. I’ve got gray chest hair.

I’ve also got a happy marriage, a great daughter, financial stability, and the first draft of a novel that has a shot at being a good and maybe even a great book. Thanks to the Internet and modern technology, I’ve got more than 10,000 songs on a device that’s a quarter of the size of a Walkman, and it’s filled with plenty of new groups as well as old guy standards. So fuck it, I’m ready for 40.

1) “Surrender,” Cheap Trick. We’re all alright, we’re all alright, we’re all alright, we’re all alright! My favorite song from the 70s. It’s so catchy, clever, rocking, and funny. It’s also aged incredibly well while still capturing a particular moment in time. Cheap Trick were also rather prescient, as the idea of mom and dad getting high while getting down on the couch while cranking Kiss sounds downright normal these days.

2) “Starship Trooper,” Yes. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve had a reduced tolerance for fantasy and science fiction writing.* A lot of it has to do with the writing itself—residual emotional scars from re-reading the Elric series as an adult and wondering how in the Stormbringer I had ever waded through Moorcock’s ridiculous prose in the first place. But movies, TV, and music still get a free pass, including a great Yes tune about sci-fi warriors floating through the sky. Worth it for Steve Howe’s epic flanged guitar alone. Bonus video coverage: Wall-to-wall sequined capes!

*Thankfully, writers like Cormac McCarthy, David Mitchell, and Max Barry have restored some of my faith in the genre.

3) “Blew,” Nirvana. Cobain is a cautionary tale on the price of not taking proper stock of one’s life. The death of the young and talented is sad when it happens by misadventure, but it’s downright tragic and infuriating when it’s done deliberately.

4) “Budge,” Dinosaur Jr. The music of J Mascis, on the other hand, has aged well, in part because I think Mascis is a bit of an old soul. Get beneath the youthful, noisy surface and there’s a lot of depth and maturity here. Video commentary: Everything looks better in front of a stack of Marshalls.

5) “Do It Again,” Nada Surf. I could listen to catchy, hooky, guitar-driven pop like this all day long. In fact, since I work at home, I often do. I also dig the nice unplugged version they do here. Video comentary: White-guy dreads are always a bad idea. Last weekend at Starbucks I got served by a very friendly, very competent clerk who had albino dreads, and I all I could think about was that it looked like he needed to wash his hair.

6) “Babe I’m Gonna Leave You,” Led Zeppelin. It vies with “Good Times, Bad Times” and “Communication Breakdown” as my favorite Zep tracks off the first album. They were soft-loud-soft-LOUD before being soft-loud-soft-LOUD was cool.

7) “Faster Gun,” The Wrens. I have no idea what this song is about, and yet that has no impact on my enjoyment of it. There’s a great Pixies vibe to it.

8) “Pot Kettle Black,” Wilco. I got tagged in a Facebook memo the other day—pick 15 albums that will always stick with you. The object was to reply quickly from the gut which I did. I didn’t put Yankee Hotel Foxtrot on it, and when I saw that another person had, I instantly regretted it, along with the other 75 albums that I regretted leaving off. Sometimes I think the thing I love the best about these lists is the second guessing.

9) “Watch Me Jumpstart,” Guided by Voices. The house band for not giving a fuck about getting old.

10) “Vanderlyle Crybaby Geeks,” The National. I say with absolute certainty that “Bloodbuzz Ohio” from the new National album will be on my best-of-the-year list, but the entire High Violet album is fantastic. A couple of weeks ago, after a terrible no-good day, I decided to chill out by laying on the bed, putting on headphones, and listening to this whole album (something I rarely do but should do more often). What’s incredible about The National is that they manage to have these intricate arrangements without losing the intimacy of their songs.

11) “Here’s Where the Strings Come In,” Superchunk. (no vid, but a cool piece on Merge Records, including a Grayson Currin appearance for Pinko and UC) They put out this album of the same name at the mid-point of their career, and it’s one of the best, most appropriate album titles ever. Because what do you do after a few albums of loud, wild, youthful punk exuberance? Keep doing the same act and wind up looking like The Ramones? No. At the same time, you don’t want to mellow so much that the Raleigh-Durham Orchestra presents a Symphonic Evening of Superchunk. Instead, you adapt, you grow, and you realize that adding a few strings can not only show maturity, but a little adventurousness, without throwing water on the youthful fire that powered you in the first place. So here’s where my strings come in.

Have a great, long weekend.

Ten-Year-Old Boy Looks Back on His First Decade With Regret

NAPERVILLE, IL - As Chandler Davis looked down at the ten burning candles rising out of his Transformers-decorated birthday cake, he made a wish: that he could go back in time and undo some of the life choices he had made during years zero to nine.

“When I was younger, I was a real poopie-head,” Davis said. “If I knew then what I know now...,” he added, letting the thought linger as he took a long pull on his Capri Sun.

Davis’s first decade of life is a story of regrets, lost loves, and lost economic opportunities, and it began literally with trauma. “The first thing I remember was my big brother Ross dropping me on my head,” Davis said. “We were playing Power Rangers and he picked me up and dropped me on the floor. Mom said I was hurt pretty bad. I guess that’s why I can’t remember anything before then.”

There were other distressing events—an accidental bathtub defecation during potty training, the death of a pet gerbil, Mr. Snuggles, and a traumatic 26-minute ordeal of being separated from his mother at the mall. “Being away from my mom for that long made me question if Jesus really loved me like grandma said.”

Those events paled in comparison to what lay ahead for Davis between the ages of eight and nine. It started with a girl named Montana.

“She was real pretty,” Davis recalled of classmate Montana Kowalski. “Blonde hair and blue eyes. She started in third grade ‘cause she moved from somewhere. I wanted to tell her I liked her but I was too shy.” The admission causes Davis to shake his head slowly.

“The popular girls like Dakota and Carly were really mean to her. My mom says it’s ‘cause of something called jealousy, where you want to be the other person but can’t ‘cause you’re ugly or something. They called her Montana Cooties, and the boys started saying that too.

“I didn’t say anything—gosh, how I wish I had—but I tried to be nice to her. One day I picked up a book she dropped and handed it to her. ‘Thanks, Chandler, you’re so nice,’ she said to me. Harrison and Liam and some of the other boys started laughing. I panicked and said, ‘You have cooties.’” Davis stopped to wipe his eyes.

“She transferred the next year. I never saw her again, but Phoebe and Monica said she’s like the most popular girl in school. And she could have been mine.”

The following summer, Davis was caught in the economic crunch rampaging through the newspaper industry. “My paper route got cancelled.” He attempted to help his brother Ross with his lawnmowing business, but an unfortunate sprinkler accident caused him to lose the job after one week.

A loveless, jobless, school-less Davis drowned his summer sorrows in breakfast cereal. “I started eating Trix and watching Nick all the time: Nick, Nick West, even Nick Jr.” But soon Trix weren’t enough—“they’re for kids, and I wanted something more hardcore”—and Davis turned to Coco Puffs. He developed a box-a-day habit. When his mother tried to get him to switch to Cheerios, Davis went off the deep end. “I’d do anything for sugar, even eat it out of the jar in the kitchen. It got so bad I couldn’t get out of bed without a couple of juice boxes and a Pixie Stick first.”

By the time fourth grade started, Davis was in a full downward spiral. His schoolwork suffered as he could only focus on getting sugar and what he would say to Ms. Kowalski if she had still been at his school. “I don’t even remember fractions, and we spent, like, three weeks on them,” Davis lamented. His friends began to shun him, causing Davis to seek companionship from anyone who would provide it.

“I was at my house playing Wii with Bobby Butterman,” Davis said. “I got mad ‘cause I rolled a gutterball in bowling, and I broke the nunchuck. My mom yelled and Butterman had to go home. When I invited him over again, he said he didn’t want to play with me.

“That’s when it hit me: Even ‘Stinky’ Butterman didn’t want to come over. I needed help.”

Davis turned to big brother Ross. “Chandler said, ‘Help me,’ and I said, ‘Help you do what, homo?’” Ross Davis said. “He said he had to get off sweets. So I came up with a plan: every time I saw him eating something sweet I punched him.”

The plan worked. Although the rehabilitation left his arms bruised and he suffered several debilitating Charlie Horses, Davis kicked sugar, even forgoing Christmas cookies for fresh fruits and vegetables. Aside from a brief relapse at Easter, which Ross fixed with a round of therapeutic noogies, Davis was finally sugar-free. “I allow myself a Capri Sun once a day,” Davis said, “but that’s it.” He also manages his sugar cravings with Trident gum.

He also found a new attraction, a girl named Hannah. “She’s awesome, even cuter than Montana. Plus, the other day when she said, ‘hi’ to me, I said ‘hi’ back. I think she likes me.”

While acknowledging recovery is a struggle, Davis remains optimistic. “My family has been awesome. My dad said I have to take it one day at a time. I asked him how else I could take it, and he told me not to be smart.” Still, Davis plans to learn from his mistakes. “When I become a teenager, I’m totally going to make all the right choices and not be a butt face like Ross.”

Then, with no one looking, he allowed himself a scoop of frosting from the birthday cake, letting his finger linger in his mouth until biting it after his brother punched him.