I would be remiss if I didn't acknowledge one young Reginald Kenneth Dwight's (aka Sir Elton John) 60th b-day yesterday. Evidently, EJ celebrated it with 18,000 of his closest friends at his record 60th concert at New York's Madison Square Garden last night, and put on a three-hour show, to boot. An amazing man, an amazing performer, and one helluva musician, the impact Elton has had on the soundtrack of my life is immeasurable. It makes me no never mind that he's gay—hell, he can hump a water buffalo, for all I care—all I know is I enjoy his music, period! A hearty "thank you" from me to that "cat named Hercules" for a brilliant musical career.
COMING FULL CIRCLE?
I read today that the Oakland Raiders hired Alabama State coach Charlie Coe to be their new receivers coach. Seems only fitting, since Charlie Coe (the dude on the right in the red shirt in the pic here) was once the bassist for Paul Revere & The Raiders from 1967-69, and I couldn't help but notice the coincidence. Let's just hope for his sake that those kicks don't "keep getting harder to find". Ba-dum-bump!
CLASSIC MISHEARD LYRIC #20
"Jungle Boogie"—KOOL & THE GANG (1974) This one comes courtesy of a co-worker who used to sing this song all the time at work. Another co-worker asked him why he always sang it incorrectly--she thought the song was called "Jungle Bunny"...
ROCK CHALK—WHAT THE FUCK?!?
Okay, Kansas—what happened?!? You took my brilliant plan to have you losing to Roy Williams and UNC in the NCAA Tournament Finals and you made it fail—YOU BIG DUMMIES! Of course, it didn't help that UNC lost too. Shit, unlike Missouri, UCLA didn't even need Tyus Edney to beat Kansas the other night. So much for my Final Four—D'oh!
TRIP NEWS AND NOTES
Just a couple other things from my weekend sabbatical...
—I paid another visit to the mighty Mall of America in Bloomington, which was built on the site of the old Metropolitan Stadium, where they marked the spot where home plate used to be (where Rod Carew always led off with a base hit against the Royals when they played up there). They also marked the spot where slugger Harmon Killebrew knocked a 500-some-odd-foot homer into the left center field seats there. Very cool stuff. These MOA folks really have it dicked here too—an indoor amusement park surrounded by a mall that operates 364 days a year. I'm in the wrong business racket...
—A big Bronx Cheer to the Hard Rock Cafe in Minneapolis! I was really looking forward to lunching there on Saturday afternoon, yet I wound up walking out after being seated and basically ignored. They weren't all that busy at the time, but no less than three fairly unattractive waitresses passed by my table and didn't even look at me, so after well over five minutes of indifference from the HRC wait staff, I said fuck it and went next door to Hooters. I often get ignored there too, but I figured at least there I'd have something to look at whilst being ignored! I encounter this phenomenon a lot in my travels—why is it a single person gets treated like shit in restaurants so often? It always pisses me off to watch the big party of four or more people next to me receiving the server's undivided attention, while they avoid me like a Ricky Martin CD. Are they afraid I won't leave a good tip, just because I'm by myself? Bullshit, I say! After perusing the HRC menu, it's just as well—any place that has the nerve to charge 12 bucks for a fucking burger probably isn't worth my time anyway. Oddly enough, I actually got GOOD service from Hooters for a change, this time...
—And finally, an urgent request to the state of Missouri: FIX THE FUCKING ROADS!!! I didn't even need the "Welcome To Missouri" sign to tell me where I was when I crossed the state line coming home—the road surface was a good enough clue. Both I-35 and US 69 north of Kansas City are simply frightful. Kiss my asphalt—is it any wonder our state is always ranked at the top of the Worst Roads rankings?!?
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