Next up on the ol' Hit Parade of the Best of JumpTheShark.com is "America's Funniest Home Videos". Oh, by the way, if you're a big fan of (or a CLOSE relative of) Bob Saget, then reader discretion IS advised. Strap yourself in—this is gonna be a lenghty ride…
—Who ever decided that crotch shots, babies with spaghetti in their hair, and whining brats blowing snot bubbles was funny? I don’t want to see geriatric underwear antics, nose-pickers and kids’ recital bloopers on TV—cake-in-the-face at the wedding reception is a great way to start a marriage—I am not amused. And tell these cam-happy idiots who submit to this program to clean up their freakin’ houses before they make their stupid videos. It’s hard to tell the difference between “Cops” and this show—at least the dopers getting’ busted on “Cops” can use their drug abuse as an excuse to live in a pig sty. No wonder people in foreign countries hate Americans…
—This is a show for people for less brains than scarecrows…Bob Saget—he is the American equivalent of Alan Thicke.
—And why does a “live studio audience” need canned laughter anyway?
—We were all TRYING to laugh when the little girl sang the “I Love My Sister” song for the camera, and then screamed at her sister, when she came on camera. If it was staged, it was stupid. If it wasn’t, it was cruel; that spoiled brat is probably buying Barbie Dream Houses with the $10,000 she won. Rewarding kids and putting them on TV for being mean to other kids is funny in no way whatsoever.
—What’s with their showing close-ups of people laughing? Is that somehow supposed to enhance the absent humor in most of the videos?
—As for Bob Saget, my dad sums it up best: ten or 15 minutes into the first show, right in the middle of a Saget torture sequence, the “mute” appears on-screen and my dad holds up the remote and says something like, “I don’t know whose idea it was to put a ‘mute’ button on here, but I’d like to kiss the bastard!”
—On my list of “Things to do before I die”: Find the guy who first told Bob Saget he was funny, and kick his ass…
—Why is it that, in real life, I have NEVER seen anyone lose their skirt or pants while dancing in public; fall off a roof; fall off a stage; get hit in the face with a pie; get bitten by a horse, goose, duck or cow; or smash their camera with a baseball…yet on this show it happened daily?
—Has anyone noticed that all of the interior shots of the “contestants’” houses looked the same? They all have shag carpeting, faux wood paneling and something in the kitchen in either avocado or gold…If you are going to stage a video with your poor, unsuspecting infant and a full-grown cat, at least run the vacuum first!
—OH! There was this one, and this little snot-nosed kid was supposed to sing “ABCs” and he went up to the mic and SCREAMED A! B! C! D! and he won a crapload of money! What the hell? That was not funny! That made my blood boil…
—Can’t the producers at least find one that doesn’t consist of babies being “cute”, kids screwing up in sports or lame-ass recitals, Daddy’s getting hit in the manhood, buildings falling, old people being senile, and unfunny wedding bloopers…
—The night the winning video was sent in by someone who had set up their camera on a beach to film the sunset. About 30 seconds (or so) into the bit, along comes Fido, cocks his leg and unleashes a stream onto the camera. Cripes, for 10-grand, I’da pissed on the camera, full Monty!
—My decision to not date a certain woman was made when she told me THIS was her favorite show!
—It was nice that Daisy (Fuentes) was able to wear fetish gear on a network owned by Disney—the irony was delicious. I especially liked the times she wore heels so high she could barely get down the stairs at the start of the show.
—The close-ups of the audience—the producers must’ve told these fools the more obnoxious the laugh, the better chance you have of being on TV.
—Bob Saget is a tool. My eight-month-old daughter has more interesting things to say, and has loaded diapers with more charisma…
—Then I noticed at one point that the laughs from the audience is all canned! Watch it, you see Bob Saget in the audience making some lame joke, you hear tons of laughs, but hardly anyone is laughing! Where are the mysterious laughing people? Obviously, not on camera!
—At the end, the audience, would have a chance to vote for the funniest video of the night, let’s say between A) a guy getting nailed in the kiwis by a line drive (always funny), B) a guy getting bit on the kiwis by a Canadian goose or some damn thing (also funny), or C) a three-year-old kid reciting his ABC’s (awwww…). So what did the audience ALWAYS give the award to? You guessed it: the kid! Funny stuff, huh?
—Bob Saget…plus the fact that at show’s end, he always acknowledged his wife—who, if she watched the show, I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if she refused to acknowledge him back! Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if several times Saget went home to find the locks had been changed!
—Funny things are spontaneous—not fat people stuck in their appliances…
—A line from “The Simpsons”: “It works on so many levels! The ball! The groin!”
—I think it’s terrible how they always give the $10,000 prize to a clip of some brat whining and ruining everyone’s fun, like the whiny girl who didn’t want to hit the pinata at a birthday party. She spent the whole clip crying and howling, “This is the woooorrrrssst day of my liiiiiiiiiiife!” How is that funny? If my daughter acted like that, I would be way too embarrassed to show it on national TV. Yet AFV awards it! Nice message to your kids: bratty behavior is not only acceptable, but gets richly rewarded and lets you appear on TV. Great…
—The sights of dirty little redneck punks who scream bloody murder when they don’t get what they want. God, if I ever acted that way, I’d have been smacked, not rewarded with a $10,000 prize. This is the kind of shit that makes me embarrassed for our country.
—Poor, stupid people doing stupid things and getting injured is always funny…
—Bob Saget scared me on “Full House”, and even more on this show. Even as a little kid, I thought this guy was a pedophile…
—I don’t consider Bob Saget as being a comedian. He’s more like the uncle who pulls quarters from behind your ear. The main thing I couldn’t stand about Bob was how he always laughed at his own jokes…
—AFV is not nearly as grating as it once was with Bob Saget. I personally thought him to be as funny as Botulism…
—Who the hell is doubled over in laughter, practically falling out of their seat when they see a ten-second clip of a goat licking a baby’s face?! Why do the producers think that the audience laughing like a bunch of retards looks natural?
—Usually, when a show jumps the shark, it’s a bad idea. In this case, replacing Bob Saget—who is about as entertaining as a face on a Roman coin—was the best thing that could have happened…
—You have to realize that AFHV appealed mostly to people that shared the whole Wal-Mart/urban sprawl/family van-driving/soccer Mom/white-picket fence/nuclear family mentality. These aren’t people who care about the environment or pursue wordly causes. These are people who get freaked-out if there are onions on their Big Mac’s…
—When Daisy (Fuentes) and John (Fugelsang) hosted the show, man was that awful! Daisy wasn’t trying at all, and John was trying too hard! They had the chemistry of lemon juice and a flesh wound…
—I also doubt that the viewers really decided the winners in each episode. They were so bad…a blank tape could have ran away with the prize…
Sunday, February 4, 2007
Saturday, February 3, 2007
Shark Jumping 103
Time for another installment of the Best of JumpTheShark.com, and this time I feature "The Cosby Show". Keep in mind, these are comments submitted by various people, and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of yours truly—well, MOST of them actually do, but not all...
—The overuse of that chubby white kid that was always over there and never said a word…
—The constant parade of elderly jazzmen cast as Cliff Huxtable’s relatives. Did you ever see that parody on “The Simpsons”? “Meet your new Grandpa—he’s a great jazz musician!” “But we have three Grampas, already!”
—The actress who played Sondra was far too pretty for the part. They should have used a dorkier person with thick glasses or something.
—Definitely when Olivia joined the cast. Is she the love child of Cousin Oliver from “The Brady Bunch” and Dee from “What’s Happening!”?
—Elvin was without as doubt the biggest pussy in the history of television. I think he went on to play one of the Teletubbies…nah, even they’re too manly for him!
—Before Cuba Gooding, Jr. even became Jordy on ‘Star Trek’…there was Elvin. If ever there was proof of The Man’s endless efforts to oppress people of color, Elvin was it. This guy (and I use that term generously) made Urkel look like Schwarzenegger.
—I was just waiting for Nelson Mandela to guest star as Cliff’s high school track coach. Hell, who knows? Maybe he did and I missed it.
—Grandpa—who seemed as light in the loafers as Elvin…
—The only facial expression she (Olivia) knows is that silicon-fake smile, which she turns on and off like a flaky Christmas light.
—How about the episode where Rudy took the $2.30 that Claire had left on the counter, and Claire proceeded to tear the house apart looking for it? Come on, she’s a lawyer for Christ’s sake, married to a doctor, living in a million dollar brownstone in Brooklyn Heights, and she’s really gonna be that upset about losing $2.30? Rudy could have found that money between the couch cushions!
—Does anyone remember the friend of Vanessa’s that talked really fast? She used to drive me up the wall!!! I swore that girl must be on crack!!
—What the heck was up with Vanessa’s hair (asymmetrical bush)…in what lifetime was that fashionable? I am sure there is an unemployable hair/make-up person somewhere regretting the day that ‘do was done.
—As time goes on, “The Cosby Show” increasingly reeks from the same blandness and patness as “The Brady Bunch”. Take race out of the equation and they are practically interchangeable.
—And why was Olivia always dressed like a small circus performer?
—When Vanessa’s hair started to resemble that godawful wig Jan Brady tried sporting to differentiate herself from Marcia.
—When Theo went from being as smart as a thumbtack to being a Rhodes Scholar…When Vanessa started looking liked Weird Harold from the Cosby cartoons of the ‘70s…When Rudy’s mustache finally came in thicker than Theo’s…WAY TOO much of that damn son-in-law Elvin—that guy was way too light in the loafers and made me ashamed to be a man.
—First, Lisa Bonet becomes this walking freak show in a house full of conservative dressers (and she married a nerd—yeah, right!). The older one’s husband whines more than Marge Simpson. And don’t even get me started about Raven-Symone, the no-talent gnome.
—I think the show jumped the shark when I realized Rudy Huxtable had a thicker mustache than my dad.
—Denise (when she returned with the husband and Olivia) looked like she needed a good bath. I think I could smell her through the TV.
—When comedians stop being funny and start being politically correct and opinionated, we all suffer.
—…later into the show, is it me or was everyone either paying tribute to a dead or near-death jazz musician, wearing a turban and African jewelry, or otherwise highlighting something or someone as though every month were Black History Month?
—Some of those sweaters Bill used to wear looked like some varmint puked on them.
—The overuse of that chubby white kid that was always over there and never said a word…
—The constant parade of elderly jazzmen cast as Cliff Huxtable’s relatives. Did you ever see that parody on “The Simpsons”? “Meet your new Grandpa—he’s a great jazz musician!” “But we have three Grampas, already!”
—The actress who played Sondra was far too pretty for the part. They should have used a dorkier person with thick glasses or something.
—Definitely when Olivia joined the cast. Is she the love child of Cousin Oliver from “The Brady Bunch” and Dee from “What’s Happening!”?
—Elvin was without as doubt the biggest pussy in the history of television. I think he went on to play one of the Teletubbies…nah, even they’re too manly for him!
—Before Cuba Gooding, Jr. even became Jordy on ‘Star Trek’…there was Elvin. If ever there was proof of The Man’s endless efforts to oppress people of color, Elvin was it. This guy (and I use that term generously) made Urkel look like Schwarzenegger.
—I was just waiting for Nelson Mandela to guest star as Cliff’s high school track coach. Hell, who knows? Maybe he did and I missed it.
—Grandpa—who seemed as light in the loafers as Elvin…
—The only facial expression she (Olivia) knows is that silicon-fake smile, which she turns on and off like a flaky Christmas light.
—How about the episode where Rudy took the $2.30 that Claire had left on the counter, and Claire proceeded to tear the house apart looking for it? Come on, she’s a lawyer for Christ’s sake, married to a doctor, living in a million dollar brownstone in Brooklyn Heights, and she’s really gonna be that upset about losing $2.30? Rudy could have found that money between the couch cushions!
—Does anyone remember the friend of Vanessa’s that talked really fast? She used to drive me up the wall!!! I swore that girl must be on crack!!
—What the heck was up with Vanessa’s hair (asymmetrical bush)…in what lifetime was that fashionable? I am sure there is an unemployable hair/make-up person somewhere regretting the day that ‘do was done.
—As time goes on, “The Cosby Show” increasingly reeks from the same blandness and patness as “The Brady Bunch”. Take race out of the equation and they are practically interchangeable.
—And why was Olivia always dressed like a small circus performer?
—When Vanessa’s hair started to resemble that godawful wig Jan Brady tried sporting to differentiate herself from Marcia.
—When Theo went from being as smart as a thumbtack to being a Rhodes Scholar…When Vanessa started looking liked Weird Harold from the Cosby cartoons of the ‘70s…When Rudy’s mustache finally came in thicker than Theo’s…WAY TOO much of that damn son-in-law Elvin—that guy was way too light in the loafers and made me ashamed to be a man.
—First, Lisa Bonet becomes this walking freak show in a house full of conservative dressers (and she married a nerd—yeah, right!). The older one’s husband whines more than Marge Simpson. And don’t even get me started about Raven-Symone, the no-talent gnome.
—I think the show jumped the shark when I realized Rudy Huxtable had a thicker mustache than my dad.
—Denise (when she returned with the husband and Olivia) looked like she needed a good bath. I think I could smell her through the TV.
—When comedians stop being funny and start being politically correct and opinionated, we all suffer.
—…later into the show, is it me or was everyone either paying tribute to a dead or near-death jazz musician, wearing a turban and African jewelry, or otherwise highlighting something or someone as though every month were Black History Month?
—Some of those sweaters Bill used to wear looked like some varmint puked on them.
Friday, February 2, 2007
Top 20 Debut Albums of All-Time
Time to reverse the negativity trend a bit, as I know I’ve been leaning a bit too hard on the Rant button lately, thus, I give you the best Rock ‘N’ Roll rookie efforts of all-time, and just for fun, I thought I'd try doing it David Letterman-style, starting with #20 first:
20) BLACK SABBATH—Black Sabbath (1970) Ozzy and the boys scared the crap out of everyone with this little slab of Heavy Metal ghoulash, and Rock 'N' Roll ain't been the same since. "N.I.B." and "The Wizard" are the two forgotten gems here...
19) THE WHO—The Who Sings My Generation (1965) This one sounds a bit ratty in places (sometimes in a good way, like on the title track), and Roger Daltrey hadn’t quite matured as a singer yet (that didn’t happen until The Who Sell Out in 1967), but this LP’s a killer anyway. Pete Townshend’s "A Legal Matter" is an overlooked classic here, as are "Circles" and "The Ox".
18) KATRINA & THE WAVES—Katrina & The Waves (1985) Yes, "Walking On Sunshine" was their only true hit, but if you look beyond it, this whole album is pretty good stuff. In my book, K&TW was like a really good bar band with a cute chick singer, with songs like "Red Wine & Whisky" (sic), "Going Down To Liverpool" (also a hit for The Bangles in '84), "Cry For Me", and "Machine Gun Smith".
17) THE POLICE—Outlandos D’Amour (1979) This was far from their best album (Ghost In The Machine is my choice there), but this one was pretty tasty, well beyond just "Roxanne". I always liked "Born In The ‘50s" and "Can’t Stand Losing You", especially that line, "…and your brother’s gonna kill me and he’s six-feet-ten."
16) LED ZEPPELIN—Led Zeppelin (1969) I’ve always thought "Dazed And Confused" was highly overrated here, but this album makes my list anyway since it contains two of my all-time Led Zep faves, "Communication Breakdown" and "How Many More Times", the latter being John Paul Jones’ finest hour (well, 8.5 minutes anyway) on the bass.
15) LYNYRD SKYNYRD—Pronounced leh-nerd skin-nerd (1973) This one would make the list for "Free Bird" alone, but "Tuesday’s Gone", "Gimme Three Steps", and "Simple Man" are heavyweight stuff too.
14) MEAT LOAF—Bat Out Of Hell (1978) "You Took The Words Right Outta My Mouth" was playing on my radio one day in late '78, and my brother walks in the room and says, "You listen to singing meat loafs?" One of the funnier questions anyone’s ever asked me, but the answer is yes. Bat is a classic of its own kind—Rock 'N' Roll meets Broadway and lives to tell about it! Sadly, Sir Loaf has spent the last damn-near 30 years trying to top it and his desperation shows by his naming of subsequent albums Bat Out Of Hell II, Bat Out Of Hell III, etc. "All Revved Up With No Place To Go" should’ve been a hit from the original and wasn’t.
13) THE DOORS—The Doors (1967) I may well be the only Doors fan on earth whose least favorite member of the band is Jim Morrison. But, as pretentious and obnoxious as Mr. Mojo was, this was still a great first record, and this album was very ground-breaking and sounded so different from anything else at the time it came out. Ray Manzarek makes Elton John look like a rank amateur on the piano, and he was quite possibly Rock’s first multi-tasker—since The Doors had no official bass player, he had to play that little bass organ along with the rest of his keyboard set-up.
12) THE CARS—The Cars (1978) It took me a while to embrace these guys at first because they were so different. What finally hooked me was that synthesizer bit by Greg Hawkes during the chorus on "You're All I've Got Tonight" as it literally echoed around Arrowhead Stadium as they opened for Fred Nugent in July, 1979. The late Benjamin Orr is the unsung hero of this band, too—he was a much better singer than Ric Ocasek is, and he was pretty good on the bass, too. Two hidden gems on this one are "Don’t Cha Stop" and "All Mixed Up".
11) A FLOCK OF SEAGULLS—A Flock Of Seagulls (1982) Greatest Techno-Pop album ever recorded. These guys had all the soul of a doorstop, but for some reason, this album still worked! And believe it or not, AFOS wasn't half-bad live in concert, either...
10) OZZY OSBOURNE—Blizzard Of Ozz (1981) Pretty impressive stuff from someone who was down and out just a couple years before after getting booted out of Black Sabbath. If Ozzy had never hooked up with the late Randy Rhoads, it’s doubtful his solo career would have gone anywhere, thus we’d never have known who Jack and Kelly and Sharon were. Not sure whether to be thankful for the latter or not, but there’s NO denying what an awesome guitar player Randy Rhoads was. His death and Stevie Ray Vaughan’s were two of the most devastating losses in Rock ‘N’ Roll history.
9) MOLLY HATCHET—Molly Hatchet (1978) Hatchet came out of the chute with a nasty little debut record that rivaled anything Skynyrd or the Allmans ever did. The late Danny Joe Brown had a distinctive growl, and it suited MH’s style perfectly. "Bounty Hunter" and "Gator Country" were standout tracks, as well as their re-working of the Allman Bros.’ "Dreams" into "Dreams I’ll Never See", which blew the original away, and would’ve made my best cover songs list if there weren’t so many other good ones ahead of it.
8) ASIA—Asia (1982) This was certainly a pleasant surprise when it came out, and it turned out to be the best debut album ever by a so-called "Supergroup" comprised of musicians from other famous groups. This album was consistently good all the way through, and never boring like most of the stuff the band members played on in their former bands (Yes, Emerson, Lake & Palmer, King Crimson, et al.). "Time Again" is an underrated gem here, as is "Here Comes The Feeling".
7) BLACK OAK ARKANSAS—Black Oak Arkansas (1971) Okay, knock it off—stop laughing already! This was a fun record, dammit! And sometimes being fun is more important than being technically proficient, e.g., you won’t find King Crimson’s first album anywhere on this list. To paraphrase an analogy Gene Simmons likes to make, "Sometimes you want Filet Mignon, and sometimes you want a big cheeseburger." To wit, if Who’s Next is Filet Mignon, then BOA is a Double Whopper (with cheese). From start to finish, Jim Dandy and crew served up a great little first album that rocked with a sense of humor to boot. Their version of Marty Robbins’ classic "Singin’ The Blues" is a total hoot, and this one contains their classics "Hot And Nasty", "When Electricity Came To Arkansas" and "Lord Have Mercy On My Soul", the latter of which sounds an awful lot like the Hollies’ "Long Cool Woman" in places. One of my all-time favorite albums, debut or otherwise.6) THE GO-GO’S—Beauty And The Beat (1981) Alrightty now—setting aside any bias caused by my pubescent lust ("Lust To Love"?) for certain members of this band, I can honestly state that this was a damn good record! As good as they were musically, The Go-Go’s don’t get nearly enough credit for their brilliant lyricism, with lines like "Discarded stars like worn-out cars litter the streets of this town" (from "This Town") and "Our love needs an overhaul," (from "Skidmarks On My Heart"). "We Got The Beat" and "Our Lips Are Sealed" are as good as it gets when it comes to Pop singles, too. You Go-Go, Girls! (I just had to say that, yes...)
5) BOSTON—Boston (1976) It pains me to do this, but even as sick to death as I am of hearing this band now on Classic Rock radio stations the world over, I still have to give it up to these guys for putting out one of the absolutely finest debut albums ever. Boston sounded so polished, you’d have thought they’d been around for ten years or so already when this album came out. One track I actually never get tired of hearing is "Peace Of Mind", especially its melodic outro as it fades. It’s also pretty rare to find an album from which every track on it gets regular airplay on the radio (Led Zeppelin IV being the other prime example). Boston could have gone down as one of the great American Rock bands of all-time if they hadn’t gotten so caught up in perfectionism, legal squabbles and ego-driven in-fighting throughout the rest of their career. Damn shame...
4) THE RAINMAKERS—The Rainmakers (1986) Best debut album that most of America has never heard. These guys could have/should have been every bit as big as R.E.M. is, and could easily blow Michael Stipe & Co. off any stage on a bad night, but PolyGram Records did little or nothing to promote them, so Kansas City's own Rainmakers were sadly only able to achieve cult status, at best. Too bad too, because singer Bob Walkenhorst is a freakin' brilliant songwriter with tunes like "Government Cheese", "Downstream", "Rockin’ At The T-Dance", and my personal favorite "Big Fat Blonde". Being the dyed-in-the-wool cynic that I am, this album also contains one of my favorite all-time lyrics: "The generation that would change the world is still looking for its car keys," (from "Drinkin' On The Job").
3) GUNS ‘N’ ROSES—Appetite For Destruction (1987) A very apt title for such a self-destructive band, but a fucking killer album, debut or not. Sadly, G'n'R seemed to have shot their wad here, and if Axl Rose wasn’t such a megalomaniac and/or dickhead, there’s no telling what else this band might have gone on to do in the ‘90s. "Mr. Brownstone" and "You're Crazy" are the underrated classics here...
2) VAN HALEN—Van Halen (1978) This album was the shot in the arm Rock ‘N’ Roll desperately needed at the height of the Disco era, and by dingies, we could sure use another one of those today, too! Ironically, I actually consider "Runnin’ With The Devil" to be one of this album’s weaker tracks, even though it’s a classic amongst most VH fans. "I’m The One" and "On Fire" are even better, yet are sadly overlooked. Fortunately, "Ain’t Talkin’ ‘Bout Love" and "Jamie’s Cryin’" are not overlooked, and "Eruption/ You Really Got Me" is downright immortal.
1) JIMI HENDRIX EXPERIENCE—Are You Experienced? (1967) I went back-and-forth trying to choose between this one and Van Halen as the best debut album of all-time, and finally settled on AYE mostly because it was about ten minutes longer and was so ground-breaking when it came out. Even the so-called "B" tracks like "Love Or Confusion" and "May This Be Love" are great songs, as well as all the classics here like "Purple Haze", "Fire", "Hey Joe", "Manic Depression" and the title track. An absolutely essential album in anyone's Rock collection.
HONORABLE MENTION: KISS—Kiss (1974) What's that you say? A mondo-Kiss fan like me doesn't even rank their debut album in the top 20? Well there’s a reason. This one would be in my Top 5 except for one thing—the record sounds flatter than the Kansas plains! Great songs here, to be sure, but it's a piss-poor recording. If Kiss had a decent producer at the time, this album might've out-Aced Van Halen, but the way it plods along in places, it just doesn't cut the proverbial cheese. In fact, the demos for some of the songs herein (found on the Kiss CD box set) sounded so much better, like "Deuce","Firehouse" and "Strutter", and I can’t figure out why they didn’t just use them instead—they were so much more energetic than that which wound up on the album. Fortunately, seven out of the ten tracks here received the proper treatment on Kiss Alive!, so all’s well that ends well. Still, a majorly-missed opportunity...
20) BLACK SABBATH—Black Sabbath (1970) Ozzy and the boys scared the crap out of everyone with this little slab of Heavy Metal ghoulash, and Rock 'N' Roll ain't been the same since. "N.I.B." and "The Wizard" are the two forgotten gems here...
19) THE WHO—The Who Sings My Generation (1965) This one sounds a bit ratty in places (sometimes in a good way, like on the title track), and Roger Daltrey hadn’t quite matured as a singer yet (that didn’t happen until The Who Sell Out in 1967), but this LP’s a killer anyway. Pete Townshend’s "A Legal Matter" is an overlooked classic here, as are "Circles" and "The Ox".
18) KATRINA & THE WAVES—Katrina & The Waves (1985) Yes, "Walking On Sunshine" was their only true hit, but if you look beyond it, this whole album is pretty good stuff. In my book, K&TW was like a really good bar band with a cute chick singer, with songs like "Red Wine & Whisky" (sic), "Going Down To Liverpool" (also a hit for The Bangles in '84), "Cry For Me", and "Machine Gun Smith".
17) THE POLICE—Outlandos D’Amour (1979) This was far from their best album (Ghost In The Machine is my choice there), but this one was pretty tasty, well beyond just "Roxanne". I always liked "Born In The ‘50s" and "Can’t Stand Losing You", especially that line, "…and your brother’s gonna kill me and he’s six-feet-ten."
16) LED ZEPPELIN—Led Zeppelin (1969) I’ve always thought "Dazed And Confused" was highly overrated here, but this album makes my list anyway since it contains two of my all-time Led Zep faves, "Communication Breakdown" and "How Many More Times", the latter being John Paul Jones’ finest hour (well, 8.5 minutes anyway) on the bass.
15) LYNYRD SKYNYRD—Pronounced leh-nerd skin-nerd (1973) This one would make the list for "Free Bird" alone, but "Tuesday’s Gone", "Gimme Three Steps", and "Simple Man" are heavyweight stuff too.
14) MEAT LOAF—Bat Out Of Hell (1978) "You Took The Words Right Outta My Mouth" was playing on my radio one day in late '78, and my brother walks in the room and says, "You listen to singing meat loafs?" One of the funnier questions anyone’s ever asked me, but the answer is yes. Bat is a classic of its own kind—Rock 'N' Roll meets Broadway and lives to tell about it! Sadly, Sir Loaf has spent the last damn-near 30 years trying to top it and his desperation shows by his naming of subsequent albums Bat Out Of Hell II, Bat Out Of Hell III, etc. "All Revved Up With No Place To Go" should’ve been a hit from the original and wasn’t.
13) THE DOORS—The Doors (1967) I may well be the only Doors fan on earth whose least favorite member of the band is Jim Morrison. But, as pretentious and obnoxious as Mr. Mojo was, this was still a great first record, and this album was very ground-breaking and sounded so different from anything else at the time it came out. Ray Manzarek makes Elton John look like a rank amateur on the piano, and he was quite possibly Rock’s first multi-tasker—since The Doors had no official bass player, he had to play that little bass organ along with the rest of his keyboard set-up.
12) THE CARS—The Cars (1978) It took me a while to embrace these guys at first because they were so different. What finally hooked me was that synthesizer bit by Greg Hawkes during the chorus on "You're All I've Got Tonight" as it literally echoed around Arrowhead Stadium as they opened for Fred Nugent in July, 1979. The late Benjamin Orr is the unsung hero of this band, too—he was a much better singer than Ric Ocasek is, and he was pretty good on the bass, too. Two hidden gems on this one are "Don’t Cha Stop" and "All Mixed Up".
11) A FLOCK OF SEAGULLS—A Flock Of Seagulls (1982) Greatest Techno-Pop album ever recorded. These guys had all the soul of a doorstop, but for some reason, this album still worked! And believe it or not, AFOS wasn't half-bad live in concert, either...
10) OZZY OSBOURNE—Blizzard Of Ozz (1981) Pretty impressive stuff from someone who was down and out just a couple years before after getting booted out of Black Sabbath. If Ozzy had never hooked up with the late Randy Rhoads, it’s doubtful his solo career would have gone anywhere, thus we’d never have known who Jack and Kelly and Sharon were. Not sure whether to be thankful for the latter or not, but there’s NO denying what an awesome guitar player Randy Rhoads was. His death and Stevie Ray Vaughan’s were two of the most devastating losses in Rock ‘N’ Roll history.
9) MOLLY HATCHET—Molly Hatchet (1978) Hatchet came out of the chute with a nasty little debut record that rivaled anything Skynyrd or the Allmans ever did. The late Danny Joe Brown had a distinctive growl, and it suited MH’s style perfectly. "Bounty Hunter" and "Gator Country" were standout tracks, as well as their re-working of the Allman Bros.’ "Dreams" into "Dreams I’ll Never See", which blew the original away, and would’ve made my best cover songs list if there weren’t so many other good ones ahead of it.
8) ASIA—Asia (1982) This was certainly a pleasant surprise when it came out, and it turned out to be the best debut album ever by a so-called "Supergroup" comprised of musicians from other famous groups. This album was consistently good all the way through, and never boring like most of the stuff the band members played on in their former bands (Yes, Emerson, Lake & Palmer, King Crimson, et al.). "Time Again" is an underrated gem here, as is "Here Comes The Feeling".
7) BLACK OAK ARKANSAS—Black Oak Arkansas (1971) Okay, knock it off—stop laughing already! This was a fun record, dammit! And sometimes being fun is more important than being technically proficient, e.g., you won’t find King Crimson’s first album anywhere on this list. To paraphrase an analogy Gene Simmons likes to make, "Sometimes you want Filet Mignon, and sometimes you want a big cheeseburger." To wit, if Who’s Next is Filet Mignon, then BOA is a Double Whopper (with cheese). From start to finish, Jim Dandy and crew served up a great little first album that rocked with a sense of humor to boot. Their version of Marty Robbins’ classic "Singin’ The Blues" is a total hoot, and this one contains their classics "Hot And Nasty", "When Electricity Came To Arkansas" and "Lord Have Mercy On My Soul", the latter of which sounds an awful lot like the Hollies’ "Long Cool Woman" in places. One of my all-time favorite albums, debut or otherwise.6) THE GO-GO’S—Beauty And The Beat (1981) Alrightty now—setting aside any bias caused by my pubescent lust ("Lust To Love"?) for certain members of this band, I can honestly state that this was a damn good record! As good as they were musically, The Go-Go’s don’t get nearly enough credit for their brilliant lyricism, with lines like "Discarded stars like worn-out cars litter the streets of this town" (from "This Town") and "Our love needs an overhaul," (from "Skidmarks On My Heart"). "We Got The Beat" and "Our Lips Are Sealed" are as good as it gets when it comes to Pop singles, too. You Go-Go, Girls! (I just had to say that, yes...)
5) BOSTON—Boston (1976) It pains me to do this, but even as sick to death as I am of hearing this band now on Classic Rock radio stations the world over, I still have to give it up to these guys for putting out one of the absolutely finest debut albums ever. Boston sounded so polished, you’d have thought they’d been around for ten years or so already when this album came out. One track I actually never get tired of hearing is "Peace Of Mind", especially its melodic outro as it fades. It’s also pretty rare to find an album from which every track on it gets regular airplay on the radio (Led Zeppelin IV being the other prime example). Boston could have gone down as one of the great American Rock bands of all-time if they hadn’t gotten so caught up in perfectionism, legal squabbles and ego-driven in-fighting throughout the rest of their career. Damn shame...
4) THE RAINMAKERS—The Rainmakers (1986) Best debut album that most of America has never heard. These guys could have/should have been every bit as big as R.E.M. is, and could easily blow Michael Stipe & Co. off any stage on a bad night, but PolyGram Records did little or nothing to promote them, so Kansas City's own Rainmakers were sadly only able to achieve cult status, at best. Too bad too, because singer Bob Walkenhorst is a freakin' brilliant songwriter with tunes like "Government Cheese", "Downstream", "Rockin’ At The T-Dance", and my personal favorite "Big Fat Blonde". Being the dyed-in-the-wool cynic that I am, this album also contains one of my favorite all-time lyrics: "The generation that would change the world is still looking for its car keys," (from "Drinkin' On The Job").
3) GUNS ‘N’ ROSES—Appetite For Destruction (1987) A very apt title for such a self-destructive band, but a fucking killer album, debut or not. Sadly, G'n'R seemed to have shot their wad here, and if Axl Rose wasn’t such a megalomaniac and/or dickhead, there’s no telling what else this band might have gone on to do in the ‘90s. "Mr. Brownstone" and "You're Crazy" are the underrated classics here...
2) VAN HALEN—Van Halen (1978) This album was the shot in the arm Rock ‘N’ Roll desperately needed at the height of the Disco era, and by dingies, we could sure use another one of those today, too! Ironically, I actually consider "Runnin’ With The Devil" to be one of this album’s weaker tracks, even though it’s a classic amongst most VH fans. "I’m The One" and "On Fire" are even better, yet are sadly overlooked. Fortunately, "Ain’t Talkin’ ‘Bout Love" and "Jamie’s Cryin’" are not overlooked, and "Eruption/ You Really Got Me" is downright immortal.
1) JIMI HENDRIX EXPERIENCE—Are You Experienced? (1967) I went back-and-forth trying to choose between this one and Van Halen as the best debut album of all-time, and finally settled on AYE mostly because it was about ten minutes longer and was so ground-breaking when it came out. Even the so-called "B" tracks like "Love Or Confusion" and "May This Be Love" are great songs, as well as all the classics here like "Purple Haze", "Fire", "Hey Joe", "Manic Depression" and the title track. An absolutely essential album in anyone's Rock collection.
HONORABLE MENTION: KISS—Kiss (1974) What's that you say? A mondo-Kiss fan like me doesn't even rank their debut album in the top 20? Well there’s a reason. This one would be in my Top 5 except for one thing—the record sounds flatter than the Kansas plains! Great songs here, to be sure, but it's a piss-poor recording. If Kiss had a decent producer at the time, this album might've out-Aced Van Halen, but the way it plods along in places, it just doesn't cut the proverbial cheese. In fact, the demos for some of the songs herein (found on the Kiss CD box set) sounded so much better, like "Deuce","Firehouse" and "Strutter", and I can’t figure out why they didn’t just use them instead—they were so much more energetic than that which wound up on the album. Fortunately, seven out of the ten tracks here received the proper treatment on Kiss Alive!, so all’s well that ends well. Still, a majorly-missed opportunity...
Etc., ad infinitum...
HAPPY GROUNDHOG DAY!
Speaking of which, I can sorta relate to what Bill Murray went through in that film. Every day at 4:30 PM, I hop in my car after work and turn the radio on to the all-sports station and they have the same debate raging every day—should Trent Green or Damon Huard be the Chiefs starting QB? Too bad they don’t play "I Got You Babe" in the background…
HO! HO! HO!
The Home Depot hardware emporium I drive by every day isn’t doing very well on the upkeep of the signage on their building. Either that, or they’re now called the "Ho Depot" at night! Umm, the flourescent lights are found in Aisle 69...
RAMMING SPEED!!!
You’ve no doubt seen these panel trucks that drive around with rotating advertisements on them? I got stuck behind one today at a light on the way to work, when the ugly mug of one Geraldo Rivera (aka, Jerry Rivers) appeared on the back of it, promoting his psuedo-news show "Geraldo At Large". I gave more than a fleeting thought to just flooring my car straight into his gnarly mustache, but I didn’t want to scuff my nice vehicle…
MEET THE NEW WIZARDS' STADIUM...SAME AS THE OLD WIZARDS' STADIUM
Well, after months of speculation, the Kansas City Wizards soccer team is going to play at Arrowhead Stadium in 2007 after all. The ‘Head was supposedly not going to be available to our mighty Wizzes because of the upcoming renovations this year, but somehow it suddenly became re-available long about the same time Major League Soccer bagged the $250 million man, David Beckham—a potential windfall to the team when he comes to town. Coincidence? Nah, couldn’t be…
CLASSIC MISHEARD LYRIC #4
"Radar Love"—GOLDEN EARRING (1974) "I’m spinnin’ into a new sunrise," always sounded like "I’m spinnin’ into a nude sunrise," to my filthy little 10-year-old mind!
DEAD MAN TALKING
Ever watch Don Imus’s radio show on TV in the mornings on MSNBC? This curmudgeon is such a crashing bore, I can’t believe someone hasn’t done an autopsy on him yet! Now HERE’S that cure for insomnia I needed so badly the other night—too bad Imus doesn’t come on here until 6AM. I caught part of the show this morning and he and his cronies were yapping about the former NFL players who are now suffering the after-effects of their injuries and how many are impoverished because the NFL pension money sucks for most of the pre-1980s players—a hot button topic during Super Bowl week, btw. Anyway, the late Johnny Unitas’ name popped up and they talked about how toward the end of his life he was in a lot of pain, etc., and Imus chimes in with, "Well, whatever happened with him—is he dead now?" Well, duh! Unitas was only like the Mickey Mantle of pro football and he died like over four years ago! Even a casual sports fan knows this, let alone a supposedly "well-informed" talking head like Imus. What a maroon! Please, Don, stick to kissing ass with Tim Russert, and stay away from sports from now on, okay Bud? And can you believe that Imus—aka, "Mr. Personality"—was once a VH-1 VJ?!? It's true—I'm NOT making that up…
By the way, watching a radio show—the most brilliant concept since "AM stereo"…
Speaking of which, I can sorta relate to what Bill Murray went through in that film. Every day at 4:30 PM, I hop in my car after work and turn the radio on to the all-sports station and they have the same debate raging every day—should Trent Green or Damon Huard be the Chiefs starting QB? Too bad they don’t play "I Got You Babe" in the background…
HO! HO! HO!
The Home Depot hardware emporium I drive by every day isn’t doing very well on the upkeep of the signage on their building. Either that, or they’re now called the "Ho Depot" at night! Umm, the flourescent lights are found in Aisle 69...
RAMMING SPEED!!!
You’ve no doubt seen these panel trucks that drive around with rotating advertisements on them? I got stuck behind one today at a light on the way to work, when the ugly mug of one Geraldo Rivera (aka, Jerry Rivers) appeared on the back of it, promoting his psuedo-news show "Geraldo At Large". I gave more than a fleeting thought to just flooring my car straight into his gnarly mustache, but I didn’t want to scuff my nice vehicle…
MEET THE NEW WIZARDS' STADIUM...SAME AS THE OLD WIZARDS' STADIUM
Well, after months of speculation, the Kansas City Wizards soccer team is going to play at Arrowhead Stadium in 2007 after all. The ‘Head was supposedly not going to be available to our mighty Wizzes because of the upcoming renovations this year, but somehow it suddenly became re-available long about the same time Major League Soccer bagged the $250 million man, David Beckham—a potential windfall to the team when he comes to town. Coincidence? Nah, couldn’t be…
CLASSIC MISHEARD LYRIC #4
"Radar Love"—GOLDEN EARRING (1974) "I’m spinnin’ into a new sunrise," always sounded like "I’m spinnin’ into a nude sunrise," to my filthy little 10-year-old mind!
DEAD MAN TALKING
Ever watch Don Imus’s radio show on TV in the mornings on MSNBC? This curmudgeon is such a crashing bore, I can’t believe someone hasn’t done an autopsy on him yet! Now HERE’S that cure for insomnia I needed so badly the other night—too bad Imus doesn’t come on here until 6AM. I caught part of the show this morning and he and his cronies were yapping about the former NFL players who are now suffering the after-effects of their injuries and how many are impoverished because the NFL pension money sucks for most of the pre-1980s players—a hot button topic during Super Bowl week, btw. Anyway, the late Johnny Unitas’ name popped up and they talked about how toward the end of his life he was in a lot of pain, etc., and Imus chimes in with, "Well, whatever happened with him—is he dead now?" Well, duh! Unitas was only like the Mickey Mantle of pro football and he died like over four years ago! Even a casual sports fan knows this, let alone a supposedly "well-informed" talking head like Imus. What a maroon! Please, Don, stick to kissing ass with Tim Russert, and stay away from sports from now on, okay Bud? And can you believe that Imus—aka, "Mr. Personality"—was once a VH-1 VJ?!? It's true—I'm NOT making that up…
By the way, watching a radio show—the most brilliant concept since "AM stereo"…
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
57 Channels And Nothin' On...
That’s one of my favorite song titles of all-time (thanks, Mistah Springsteen!), and it pretty well summed-up my channel-surfing exploits when I woke up in the middle of the night and couldn’t get back to sleep for some reason the other night. Most times I can find an old favorite movie or at least a "M*A*S*H" rerun to occupy my brain, but there wasn’t squat on the tube that night.
On the infomercial front, I stumbled across my buddy Esteban (see previous post) on two different channels, as well as that faggy-looking guy hawking his "colon-cleanser" thing on three different channels, not to mention that obnoxious exercise bozo with the ponytail sticking out of his hat. ESPN offered a choice of that phony Winter X-Games tripe (where they just kinda make up the events as they go along) or the "World Poker Lard-Butts Championships". How many times do I gotta say this? POKER IS NOT A SPORT!!! Meantime, "Roseanne" and "Coach" reruns were on Nick At Nite, "Gunsmoke" was on TV Land, the sleazy faith healers were on BET and our old friend Rev. Jimmy Swaggart was on Spike TV begging for money as usual, so it was looking pretty bleak for me.
I got so desperate that I actually found myself watching the Home Shopping Network where these two gals were hawking hairpieces. Hard to imagine anyone getting the urge to order up a wig at 3:30AM, but apparently some women do. I also thought it rather odd that one of the hostesses was dressed like she should have been home scrubbing her toilet instead of being on TV, until I realized she was modeling the crap they were hawking in the next segment after the wigs!
I finally gave up altogether when I flipped back to ESPN and that damn Enzyte
"natural male enhancement" commercial was on with that "Bob" geek smiling at me. How can it be "natural" if you have to take drugs to get it up? No thanks—I don’t need any drugs to get my Little General to work, AND if taking this stuff renders you looking like this cretin, I think I’d rather be impotent!
To avoid insomnia in future, I’m going to buy myself a copy of that Gwyneth Paltrow movie The Hours and keep it handy—I’ve heard that thing can put ANYONE to sleep!
On the infomercial front, I stumbled across my buddy Esteban (see previous post) on two different channels, as well as that faggy-looking guy hawking his "colon-cleanser" thing on three different channels, not to mention that obnoxious exercise bozo with the ponytail sticking out of his hat. ESPN offered a choice of that phony Winter X-Games tripe (where they just kinda make up the events as they go along) or the "World Poker Lard-Butts Championships". How many times do I gotta say this? POKER IS NOT A SPORT!!! Meantime, "Roseanne" and "Coach" reruns were on Nick At Nite, "Gunsmoke" was on TV Land, the sleazy faith healers were on BET and our old friend Rev. Jimmy Swaggart was on Spike TV begging for money as usual, so it was looking pretty bleak for me.
I got so desperate that I actually found myself watching the Home Shopping Network where these two gals were hawking hairpieces. Hard to imagine anyone getting the urge to order up a wig at 3:30AM, but apparently some women do. I also thought it rather odd that one of the hostesses was dressed like she should have been home scrubbing her toilet instead of being on TV, until I realized she was modeling the crap they were hawking in the next segment after the wigs!
I finally gave up altogether when I flipped back to ESPN and that damn Enzyte
"natural male enhancement" commercial was on with that "Bob" geek smiling at me. How can it be "natural" if you have to take drugs to get it up? No thanks—I don’t need any drugs to get my Little General to work, AND if taking this stuff renders you looking like this cretin, I think I’d rather be impotent!To avoid insomnia in future, I’m going to buy myself a copy of that Gwyneth Paltrow movie The Hours and keep it handy—I’ve heard that thing can put ANYONE to sleep!
Yadda x 3
POWERBALL
Seems this elderly couple in St. Louis bagged the $240 some-odd-million Powerball jackpot last weekend. Is it just me, or don’t it seem like nine times out of ten, those big gi-normous jackpots are always won by these old people who probably won’t live long enough to enjoy the money, anyway? Oh well, I do hope they enjoy the 30 bucks I contributed to their cause over the last couple weeks…
I’M NOT A GUITAR PLAYER, BUT I PLAY ONE ON T.V.
Does anyone know who the hell this guitar-hawking Esteban schlub is? I consider myself to be fairly knowledgeable about music people, but I’ve never heard of the guy outside of these silly late-night infomercials where they puff him up to be the second coming of Eric Clapton. Is the Big E really world famous, or are they bullshitting us? By the way, if it takes someone half an hour to convince me to buy something, they’re shit outta luck, anyway…
CLASSIC MISHEARD LYRIC #3
"At The Hop"—DANNY & THE JUNIORS (1957) "When the record stops spinnin’, you Calypso when you chicken at the hop…" sounded to me like "you can listen with your chicken." Neither lyric makes a whole lotta sense!
B. SIMPSON WOULD BE PROUD
Some ESPN guy on the radio the other morning said that Shaquille O’Neal sat out the previous night’s Miami Heat game with a "calf issue". I just have to ask: Did he have a cow, man? (Place rim shot here!)
GLOBAL WARMING, MY ASS!
I awoke to single-digit wind chills here this morning when I went out to start my car. Therefore, Al Gore and his believers can all go get stuffed! It’s colder than a well digger’s butt—and now we have a little snow too, so we can conduct the Iditarod right here in K.C.
COULD SOMEONE PLEASE EXPLAIN TO ME…
…what the hell we need TVs for in fast food dining areas? I mean, come on—is the collective attention span in this country THAT short now? I understand having TVs in bars, airports, doctor's waiting rooms—anywhere you'll be for an extended time—but at McDonald’s?!? And worse yet, why do they waste a perfectly good 52" plasma TV there? That’s like putting chrome hub caps on a riding lawn mower. Any why is said TV seemingly always tuned to Fox News Channel? What a waste of technology…
Seems this elderly couple in St. Louis bagged the $240 some-odd-million Powerball jackpot last weekend. Is it just me, or don’t it seem like nine times out of ten, those big gi-normous jackpots are always won by these old people who probably won’t live long enough to enjoy the money, anyway? Oh well, I do hope they enjoy the 30 bucks I contributed to their cause over the last couple weeks…
I’M NOT A GUITAR PLAYER, BUT I PLAY ONE ON T.V.
Does anyone know who the hell this guitar-hawking Esteban schlub is? I consider myself to be fairly knowledgeable about music people, but I’ve never heard of the guy outside of these silly late-night infomercials where they puff him up to be the second coming of Eric Clapton. Is the Big E really world famous, or are they bullshitting us? By the way, if it takes someone half an hour to convince me to buy something, they’re shit outta luck, anyway…
CLASSIC MISHEARD LYRIC #3
"At The Hop"—DANNY & THE JUNIORS (1957) "When the record stops spinnin’, you Calypso when you chicken at the hop…" sounded to me like "you can listen with your chicken." Neither lyric makes a whole lotta sense!
B. SIMPSON WOULD BE PROUD
Some ESPN guy on the radio the other morning said that Shaquille O’Neal sat out the previous night’s Miami Heat game with a "calf issue". I just have to ask: Did he have a cow, man? (Place rim shot here!)
GLOBAL WARMING, MY ASS!
I awoke to single-digit wind chills here this morning when I went out to start my car. Therefore, Al Gore and his believers can all go get stuffed! It’s colder than a well digger’s butt—and now we have a little snow too, so we can conduct the Iditarod right here in K.C.
COULD SOMEONE PLEASE EXPLAIN TO ME…
…what the hell we need TVs for in fast food dining areas? I mean, come on—is the collective attention span in this country THAT short now? I understand having TVs in bars, airports, doctor's waiting rooms—anywhere you'll be for an extended time—but at McDonald’s?!? And worse yet, why do they waste a perfectly good 52" plasma TV there? That’s like putting chrome hub caps on a riding lawn mower. Any why is said TV seemingly always tuned to Fox News Channel? What a waste of technology…
Great Moments In Radio--Volume III
One night while I was on the air in on K-JO, I got a call from the St. Joseph police department with a dedication request. Some sergeant was having a birthday, and they asked if I could play "Alley-Oop" by the Hollywood Argyles and say something to the effect of "he’s about as old as the caveman in the song". I was happy to oblige, so I said, "This next song goes out to one of St. Joe’s Finest celebrating a birthday tonight," etc.
Flash ahead a couple weeks later, when some scalawag broke into my car and stole my radar detector—a fairly valuable item in 1988—just before I headed to work. I got to work and called the police to report the theft and one of them stopped by the radio station to take down my info. The cop asks me, "You don’t happen to be the guy who played "Alley-Oop" the other night, are you?" "Yep, that was me!" I proclaimed proudly. "Ohhhh my—just wait until the Sarge hears about this!" he replied. Needless to say, little or no effort was made in tracking down the miscreant who stole my radar detector…
Flash ahead a couple weeks later, when some scalawag broke into my car and stole my radar detector—a fairly valuable item in 1988—just before I headed to work. I got to work and called the police to report the theft and one of them stopped by the radio station to take down my info. The cop asks me, "You don’t happen to be the guy who played "Alley-Oop" the other night, are you?" "Yep, that was me!" I proclaimed proudly. "Ohhhh my—just wait until the Sarge hears about this!" he replied. Needless to say, little or no effort was made in tracking down the miscreant who stole my radar detector…
Monday, January 29, 2007
Shark Jumping 102
Another installment, this time featuring the ONLY "reality" show that's ever been worth watching, "COPS", or as I affectionately call it (in my best Alistair Cooke voice), "White Trash Theater"...
—Definitely the “uncut” COPS video (not seen on TV), where basically every case involves a naked 65-year-old poor lady…
—There’s nothing funnier than seeing a shirtless, toothless, multi-tattooed bumpkin getting rolled by the cops!!!
—It never jumped…Watching some Gomer run from the coppers and then get the beatdown he so richly deserves will NEVER go out of style.
—Watching cops beat up drunk, naked hillbillies that deserve a beating will NEVER get boring! I’m a SCREAMING lefty and I LOVE this show! And yes, MOST of the losers on this show are White Trash.
—Do you ever notice that when every criminal is arrested, they all wear no shirt and sweatpants, and one sock on. And that is so true about how nobody in the house is ever surprised to see police or a camera crew.
—You always see the same scenario in those house they bust into: Drunk guy, no shirt, Dolphin shorts, one sock, one flip-flop, cigarette, TV on, baby crying, etc., etc…
—Will never JTS as long as me and my buddies play The Cops Drinking Game. See a guy without a shirt? Take one shot of Vodka; See a 90-pound crackhead tackled by a 200-pound cop? Take two shots; Spot a mullet? Take three shots; Old redneck lady with feathered hair and no bra who refuses to remove the cigarette from her mouth while telling the cops to “kiss her ass”? Take four shots. The fun never ends.
—You have to love it when they are arresting a loser still in his Orange Julius uniform who got beat up by his female neighbor.
—This is absolutely one of the greatest shows ever produced—despite the fact that there are essentially only four episodes. All episodes start with the “de rigeur” scene where the cop is telling the camera how he grew up in the area and is now “making a difference” and/or “doing some good.” 1) Cops show up at trailer park in Florida, go to door where morbidly obese White-Trash skank with busted lip and home perm greets them. Cops are conducted into trailer abode, where White-Trash dude (who is either grossly overweight or underweight), wearing tank top sits morosely in front of TV with beer in hand. Dude acts as if there is nothing whatsoever going on despite presence of police with camera crew in his trailer. 2) Also in Florida, also at a trailer park, but this time the trailer serves as a METH LAB. Same characters as above, but absent the busted lip on the fat chick. 3) Traffic stop in which idiot passengers in 1980 Olds Cutlass have a brick of weed the size of a cinder block in plain view on the floor. As other posters have noted, this often occurs in Albuquerque. Watch the hilarity ensue as idiots all disclaim knowledge/ownership of said weed. It is as if the weed miraculously appeared between their feet by some sort of “underclass” version of the Immaculate Conception. 4) Same car, same idiots, but this time they RUN from the cops and attempt to throw the cinder block of weed out of the window one gram at a time. Uh, wait, that’s really only TWO episodes with subtle variations. But I guess I should also have included my all-time favorite—the PROSTITUTION STING! Nothing better than some toothless 70-year-old homeless dude coming up to the female undercover and asking for a “date”. Hell yeah, what a great show. Back in college, my buddies and I would watch COPS every Saturday night while getting hammered and ready to go out. Good to see that the show still is going strong!
—Definitely the “uncut” COPS video (not seen on TV), where basically every case involves a naked 65-year-old poor lady…
—There’s nothing funnier than seeing a shirtless, toothless, multi-tattooed bumpkin getting rolled by the cops!!!
—It never jumped…Watching some Gomer run from the coppers and then get the beatdown he so richly deserves will NEVER go out of style.
—Watching cops beat up drunk, naked hillbillies that deserve a beating will NEVER get boring! I’m a SCREAMING lefty and I LOVE this show! And yes, MOST of the losers on this show are White Trash.
—Do you ever notice that when every criminal is arrested, they all wear no shirt and sweatpants, and one sock on. And that is so true about how nobody in the house is ever surprised to see police or a camera crew.
—You always see the same scenario in those house they bust into: Drunk guy, no shirt, Dolphin shorts, one sock, one flip-flop, cigarette, TV on, baby crying, etc., etc…
—Will never JTS as long as me and my buddies play The Cops Drinking Game. See a guy without a shirt? Take one shot of Vodka; See a 90-pound crackhead tackled by a 200-pound cop? Take two shots; Spot a mullet? Take three shots; Old redneck lady with feathered hair and no bra who refuses to remove the cigarette from her mouth while telling the cops to “kiss her ass”? Take four shots. The fun never ends.
—You have to love it when they are arresting a loser still in his Orange Julius uniform who got beat up by his female neighbor.
—This is absolutely one of the greatest shows ever produced—despite the fact that there are essentially only four episodes. All episodes start with the “de rigeur” scene where the cop is telling the camera how he grew up in the area and is now “making a difference” and/or “doing some good.” 1) Cops show up at trailer park in Florida, go to door where morbidly obese White-Trash skank with busted lip and home perm greets them. Cops are conducted into trailer abode, where White-Trash dude (who is either grossly overweight or underweight), wearing tank top sits morosely in front of TV with beer in hand. Dude acts as if there is nothing whatsoever going on despite presence of police with camera crew in his trailer. 2) Also in Florida, also at a trailer park, but this time the trailer serves as a METH LAB. Same characters as above, but absent the busted lip on the fat chick. 3) Traffic stop in which idiot passengers in 1980 Olds Cutlass have a brick of weed the size of a cinder block in plain view on the floor. As other posters have noted, this often occurs in Albuquerque. Watch the hilarity ensue as idiots all disclaim knowledge/ownership of said weed. It is as if the weed miraculously appeared between their feet by some sort of “underclass” version of the Immaculate Conception. 4) Same car, same idiots, but this time they RUN from the cops and attempt to throw the cinder block of weed out of the window one gram at a time. Uh, wait, that’s really only TWO episodes with subtle variations. But I guess I should also have included my all-time favorite—the PROSTITUTION STING! Nothing better than some toothless 70-year-old homeless dude coming up to the female undercover and asking for a “date”. Hell yeah, what a great show. Back in college, my buddies and I would watch COPS every Saturday night while getting hammered and ready to go out. Good to see that the show still is going strong!
Shark Jumping 101
One of my favorite web sites out there is jumptheshark.com, which chronicles the point at which TV shows went over the edge and declined. It's really turned more into a "critique-fest", for the most part, but some of the stuff people submit is pretty damn funny. Unfortunately, one must sift through a lot of mindless crappola to get to the good stuff, so I'll save you the trouble here by periodcally posting a "Best of jumptheshark" compilation. We begin today with the very show that inspired the website in the first place, "Happy Days". Here's a sampling of what folks think about the show:
—When Potsie told the executive producer of the show that he had a picture of him with a farm animal and would show it to the world unless he was allowed to sing in almost every episode toward the end of the run. It made me want to crawl under the couch. The horror…the horror…
—What’s so great about Fonzie anyway? He’s short, dropped out of high school, works in a garage, lives above a garage and hangs out with kids five years younger than him. He apparently never gets beyond first base with girls, he wears the same thing every day and his office is in a bathroom.
—The gang forms a band and does absolutely horrible job faking their instruments.
—When Potsie turned from being a cool young kid trying to get women into some kind of gay showtune singer.
—Whenever Potsie would sing like the whitest man on earth…
—Fonzie’s office in the bathroom…if I walked into a men’s room and found a guy sitting behind a desk, I’d call the police and then go outside and pee behind a tree.
—One episode that I especially hated was when Potsie was in college and to pass a test on anatomy he proceeds to sing a song and prance around the classroom like an idiot while the teacher looks dumbfounded and everyone else is clapping and smiling like they are on a bad acid trip.
—Didn’t Scott Baio ever feel like saying, “Hey, I sorta look like a douche bag with these bandanas tied around my legs, and I don’t think they’re periodically accurate, either.” Who knows, maybe he really WAS a douche bag, and the bandanas were his idea.
—Potsie couldn’t carry a tune with a handle.
—When Chachi became a basketball star…Think about it, 5’4” white guy on a 10-foot gym with bleachers that went three deep. I’m supposed to believe this moron was the next Bob Cousy.
—I couldn’t deal with Chachi as an ever-growing presence (like a fungus). And what the hell is this “wah-wah-wah” crap? Is that supposed to be an infant or what?
—Chachi: Scrappy-Doo to the Fonz’s Scooby…
—Anson Williams’ name as a contributing “recording artist” along with those of Chuck Berry and Bill Haley in the show’s closing credits is a great illustration of the word “chutzpah”! Anson Williams has to rank up there with William Shatner and Leonard Nimoy as one of the truly “great” recording vocalists of American television.
—Potsie with a DIGITAL WATCH! (yup).
—Asking when “Happy Days” jumped the shark is like asking who’s in Grant’s Tomb.
—I also wonder why after a couple seasons everybody in Milwaukee was Italian…I used to live in Wisconsin. The place is chock-full of Germans and Scandinavians, but trust me, there aren’t that many Italians there.
—When Richie began sporting a Dick Van Patten comb-over. THAT did it for me.
—When Potsie told the executive producer of the show that he had a picture of him with a farm animal and would show it to the world unless he was allowed to sing in almost every episode toward the end of the run. It made me want to crawl under the couch. The horror…the horror…
—What’s so great about Fonzie anyway? He’s short, dropped out of high school, works in a garage, lives above a garage and hangs out with kids five years younger than him. He apparently never gets beyond first base with girls, he wears the same thing every day and his office is in a bathroom.
—The gang forms a band and does absolutely horrible job faking their instruments.
—When Potsie turned from being a cool young kid trying to get women into some kind of gay showtune singer.
—Whenever Potsie would sing like the whitest man on earth…
—Fonzie’s office in the bathroom…if I walked into a men’s room and found a guy sitting behind a desk, I’d call the police and then go outside and pee behind a tree.
—One episode that I especially hated was when Potsie was in college and to pass a test on anatomy he proceeds to sing a song and prance around the classroom like an idiot while the teacher looks dumbfounded and everyone else is clapping and smiling like they are on a bad acid trip.
—Didn’t Scott Baio ever feel like saying, “Hey, I sorta look like a douche bag with these bandanas tied around my legs, and I don’t think they’re periodically accurate, either.” Who knows, maybe he really WAS a douche bag, and the bandanas were his idea.
—Potsie couldn’t carry a tune with a handle.
—When Chachi became a basketball star…Think about it, 5’4” white guy on a 10-foot gym with bleachers that went three deep. I’m supposed to believe this moron was the next Bob Cousy.
—I couldn’t deal with Chachi as an ever-growing presence (like a fungus). And what the hell is this “wah-wah-wah” crap? Is that supposed to be an infant or what?
—Chachi: Scrappy-Doo to the Fonz’s Scooby…
—Anson Williams’ name as a contributing “recording artist” along with those of Chuck Berry and Bill Haley in the show’s closing credits is a great illustration of the word “chutzpah”! Anson Williams has to rank up there with William Shatner and Leonard Nimoy as one of the truly “great” recording vocalists of American television.
—Potsie with a DIGITAL WATCH! (yup).
—Asking when “Happy Days” jumped the shark is like asking who’s in Grant’s Tomb.
—I also wonder why after a couple seasons everybody in Milwaukee was Italian…I used to live in Wisconsin. The place is chock-full of Germans and Scandinavians, but trust me, there aren’t that many Italians there.
—When Richie began sporting a Dick Van Patten comb-over. THAT did it for me.
Saturday, January 27, 2007
News and notes
RAZZING THE RAZZIES
As disappointed as I was with this year's Oscar nominations, the usually-dependable Razzies let me down too. This year's nominees have a glaring omission—how could they possibly leave out Snakes On A Plane? That piece of cinematic caca makes Anaconda look like Jaws...
CLASSIC MISHEARD LYRIC #2
"Signs"—FIVE-MAN ELECTRICAL BAND (1971) "Now hey you, Mister, can’t you read?" Again, on the AM radio when I was a kid, songs sounded less clear to me then: "Now hey you, Mr. Tangerine!"
YOU HEARD IT HERE FIRST
Just as I predicted, head-butt butt-head Zinedine Zidane is being courted by Major League Soccer's Chicago Fire. I'm not one to brag, but did I call it or did I call it?
IT'S A BLOODY REUNION...
Too bad I'm not referring to one of my favorite Molly Hatchet songs here, but sadly, I'm referring to the impending Van Halen reunion tour as reported by Billboard.com, featuring the three Van Halens (Alex, Eddie and Wolfman—er uh, Wolfgang) and Diamond Dave. As someone said in each and every Star Wars flick, "I have a bad feeling about this..." In a similar maneuver, a Canadian radio station (C3PO, or some such thing) is reporting that The Police are rehearsing for a 40-date reunion tour this summer. This can only mean that Sting has finally given up on his wimpy solo career. At least he and Andy and Stewart are still halfway civil to each other to begin with, so this tour might actually be worthwhile. Could that Led Zeppelin reunion tour (with Jason Bonham on drums) be far off?
HE WAS A HOUSEHOLD NAME
I'm rather bummed to report the death of Hall of Fame hockey goaltender Lorne John "Gump" Worsley of a heart attack at age 77. The only man I know of to "out-Gump" Forrest Gump, he played his entire career in goal minus a mask except for his final season in the mid-'70s. In the words of Weird Al Yankovic, "He's Gump, He's Gump, but he's alright..." And that's all I have to say about that...
WE DISTORT, THEN DERIDE--STARDATE 012407.FNC
http://hotlineblog.nationaljournal.com/archives/2007/01/obama_versus_fo.html
I wasn't quite ready to board the Barack Obama bandwagon just yet, but seeing's how Faux News Channel is bashing him already, then I might well be swayed...
A little advice, Mr. Murdoch: Your little news channel would carry a helluva lot more credibility with yours truly and millions of other free-thinking individuals across the country if you actually reported the news instead of MAKING SHIT UP! To wit: John Kerry does NOT look French—the late Herve Villachaize didn't even "look" French, and yet he was! BTW, your boy Steve Doocy has to be the biggest dork this side of Jack Osbourne and Bob Saget...
One other thing while I'm here, Rupert, ol' buddy ol' pal: Tell your blonde morning news tart (the one who sits between Doocy and that other dork) to either wear pants or put some pantyhose on—it's fucking January, not June, for Chrissakes! I've seen prettier legs on fricken' Dalmatians...
As disappointed as I was with this year's Oscar nominations, the usually-dependable Razzies let me down too. This year's nominees have a glaring omission—how could they possibly leave out Snakes On A Plane? That piece of cinematic caca makes Anaconda look like Jaws...
CLASSIC MISHEARD LYRIC #2
"Signs"—FIVE-MAN ELECTRICAL BAND (1971) "Now hey you, Mister, can’t you read?" Again, on the AM radio when I was a kid, songs sounded less clear to me then: "Now hey you, Mr. Tangerine!"
YOU HEARD IT HERE FIRST
Just as I predicted, head-butt butt-head Zinedine Zidane is being courted by Major League Soccer's Chicago Fire. I'm not one to brag, but did I call it or did I call it?
IT'S A BLOODY REUNION...
Too bad I'm not referring to one of my favorite Molly Hatchet songs here, but sadly, I'm referring to the impending Van Halen reunion tour as reported by Billboard.com, featuring the three Van Halens (Alex, Eddie and Wolfman—er uh, Wolfgang) and Diamond Dave. As someone said in each and every Star Wars flick, "I have a bad feeling about this..." In a similar maneuver, a Canadian radio station (C3PO, or some such thing) is reporting that The Police are rehearsing for a 40-date reunion tour this summer. This can only mean that Sting has finally given up on his wimpy solo career. At least he and Andy and Stewart are still halfway civil to each other to begin with, so this tour might actually be worthwhile. Could that Led Zeppelin reunion tour (with Jason Bonham on drums) be far off?
HE WAS A HOUSEHOLD NAME
I'm rather bummed to report the death of Hall of Fame hockey goaltender Lorne John "Gump" Worsley of a heart attack at age 77. The only man I know of to "out-Gump" Forrest Gump, he played his entire career in goal minus a mask except for his final season in the mid-'70s. In the words of Weird Al Yankovic, "He's Gump, He's Gump, but he's alright..." And that's all I have to say about that...
WE DISTORT, THEN DERIDE--STARDATE 012407.FNC
http://hotlineblog.nationaljournal.com/archives/2007/01/obama_versus_fo.html
I wasn't quite ready to board the Barack Obama bandwagon just yet, but seeing's how Faux News Channel is bashing him already, then I might well be swayed...
A little advice, Mr. Murdoch: Your little news channel would carry a helluva lot more credibility with yours truly and millions of other free-thinking individuals across the country if you actually reported the news instead of MAKING SHIT UP! To wit: John Kerry does NOT look French—the late Herve Villachaize didn't even "look" French, and yet he was! BTW, your boy Steve Doocy has to be the biggest dork this side of Jack Osbourne and Bob Saget...
One other thing while I'm here, Rupert, ol' buddy ol' pal: Tell your blonde morning news tart (the one who sits between Doocy and that other dork) to either wear pants or put some pantyhose on—it's fucking January, not June, for Chrissakes! I've seen prettier legs on fricken' Dalmatians...
Radio Ga-Ga, Part II
The saga continues...
After the demise of the Mighty 1030, I interviewed at a few radio stations within shouting distance of home. I actually turned down an offer to work at a Country music station in Knob Noster, MO, about 45 miles from Raytown, because I didn’t know squat about Country music, and I felt part of my strength in being a DJ was my working knowledge of Top 40 music, plus the town was too damn small for me—it would have been culture shock for me to live there. Knob didn't even have a McDonald's. They do now, tho...
After about three months on the shelf, I managed to snag my second radio job—a part-time weekend gig 50 miles away in St. Joseph, MO with the rather ironic call letters KKJO (as opposed to the station I’d just left, KKJC) doing the graveyard shift from Midnight-6AM. Actually, it was an AM/FM combo station that did a mix of oldies and current soft Rock on the AM side (very similar to KKJC) and Country on the FM side, which was automated at night, so while I was on the air on the AM side, I had to babysit the FM side as well and make sure the commercials were all plugged in and the music tapes were all cued up and update the weather forecasts. A bit of a challenge at first, but it was fun once I got the hang of it. I made the 90-minute trek up I-29 to Joetown on Fridays and Saturdays (and the occasional weeknight fill-in shift) throughout the spring and summer of ’88 until my big break came along when the morning DJ went AWOL and was fired. The graveyard shift became mine six nights a week, beginning in late September, and I got an apartment in St. Joseph moved there in October.
I went by my real name on the air initially at K-JO (as I also did in Blue Springs), but because of my devotion to the Kansas City Comets indoor soccer team, I obtained the nickname "Captain Comet" with some of the K-JO staffers, so I started using it along with my real name for a while, and eventually went by the nickname exclusively when I went full-time. In addition to my air shift, I also got to run the board for St. Louis Cardinals game broadcasts that ran late, as well as tape-delayed hours of the "Tom Snyder Radio Show" which was actually a lot of fun to listen to—a helluva lot more exciting than Larry King’s nightly drone-fest. There were some nights I wouldn’t even get on the air until four or five in the morning if the Cards game ran late because of rain delays or they played on the West Coast (or both), followed by three hours of Snyder, but I kept myself entertained all the same. Unlike in Blue Springs, I also got to do some commercial spots and a few promos from time to time, and I ran through the ball scores a couple times a night on the air too.
A few other noteworthy things happened during my stint in Joetown. I was on the air the night singer Roy Orbison died, so I had the honor (if you want to call it that) of breaking the news before the networks did. I even got on TV during our charity softball game that pitted the K-JO staff against the KQ-2 TV staff (or "I.Q.-2", as we called them), in front of a whopping throng of 52. They showed me hitting a seeing-eye single past their weather tart at second base—and thankfully they cut to another shot just before I damn near fell on my ass as I rounded first! I also got to meet singer Ray Stevens backstage at a concert we promoted heavily on the station.
The fall and winter of ’88-’89 was a fun time for me, but changes were on the horizon for the radio stations as they were sold to a radio mogul from Sioux City, Iowa who came in and changed everything around. In March, he moved the very profitable Country station from the FM to the AM (which pissed off a lot of loyal listeners) and changed the FM format to Top 40. This was the beginning of the end for me, because my on-air delivery style is fairly low-key (think Dick Clark, for example), and Top 40 requires a more energetic style. I kept my same air shift on the new FM and gave it the old college try at being a screamer. Even though we did play some cool stuff like Def Leppard, Guns ‘N’ Roses and Van Halen, I was never comfortable with that format because I found it damn near impossible to feign enthusiasm for playing crap like Milli Vanilli, New Kids On The Block and Tone-Loc, ad nauseam, so I only lasted about three months and change trying to sound like Rick Dees. In a mutual parting of the ways, I resigned in early June and the last words I uttered on my last air shift were, "I am history…" and I was. Thus endeth my radio career. I knew I shoulda made that left turn in Albuquerque—er uh, Knob Noster...
I shopped myself around a little and interviewed at a couple other stations over the next few months, but I soon came to the conclusion that I really wasn’t cut out for a long career in the radio biz. As a DJ, I’d describe myself as adequate, and maybe over time I would have improved, but to be honest, I didn’t really excel at it. You have to be quick on your feet to be a really good DJ, and there were many times I would have something clever to say, but during the transmission of that thought from my brain to my mouth, it would come out all garbled, or my mind would just go blank altogether, and I'd sound like Bullwinkle! This still happens in normal conversation too. I’m pretty good with words and grammar, but just not verbally. In retrospect, you’re looking at the field I should have gone into—writing!
Anyway, I also feared falling into a pattern of my radio gigs only lasting a year or so, and I heeded the words of the singer on the "WKRP In Cincinnati" theme who "got kinda tired of packing and unpacking", so I bagged the radio career in favor of getting a real job. It was fun while it lasted and I do miss working in radio now and then, but there’s just too much instability, and it’s a very funny business (not in a good way) sometimes. There are too many egos to deal with (that was my other downfall—I had no ego, to speak of), and a lot of phonies too. Don’t get me wrong—I encountered a lot of GOOD people too, but there’s about a 2-to-1 phonies-to-good people ratio in radio. To put it in "WKRP" terms, for every Andy Travis in radio, there are TWO Herb Tarleks, and I grew tired of dealing with the majority real quick.
It’s a very cutthroat business, too—not nearly as glamorous as people think—and it’s gotten even worse in this era of multiple-station ownership by these big corporate monsters like Entercom, Susquehanna and Cumulus, et al. I read about mass firings all the time at these broadcasting entities, and it makes me glad I’m not a part of it now. I plan to delve into all that in a future chapter...
After the demise of the Mighty 1030, I interviewed at a few radio stations within shouting distance of home. I actually turned down an offer to work at a Country music station in Knob Noster, MO, about 45 miles from Raytown, because I didn’t know squat about Country music, and I felt part of my strength in being a DJ was my working knowledge of Top 40 music, plus the town was too damn small for me—it would have been culture shock for me to live there. Knob didn't even have a McDonald's. They do now, tho...
After about three months on the shelf, I managed to snag my second radio job—a part-time weekend gig 50 miles away in St. Joseph, MO with the rather ironic call letters KKJO (as opposed to the station I’d just left, KKJC) doing the graveyard shift from Midnight-6AM. Actually, it was an AM/FM combo station that did a mix of oldies and current soft Rock on the AM side (very similar to KKJC) and Country on the FM side, which was automated at night, so while I was on the air on the AM side, I had to babysit the FM side as well and make sure the commercials were all plugged in and the music tapes were all cued up and update the weather forecasts. A bit of a challenge at first, but it was fun once I got the hang of it. I made the 90-minute trek up I-29 to Joetown on Fridays and Saturdays (and the occasional weeknight fill-in shift) throughout the spring and summer of ’88 until my big break came along when the morning DJ went AWOL and was fired. The graveyard shift became mine six nights a week, beginning in late September, and I got an apartment in St. Joseph moved there in October.
I went by my real name on the air initially at K-JO (as I also did in Blue Springs), but because of my devotion to the Kansas City Comets indoor soccer team, I obtained the nickname "Captain Comet" with some of the K-JO staffers, so I started using it along with my real name for a while, and eventually went by the nickname exclusively when I went full-time. In addition to my air shift, I also got to run the board for St. Louis Cardinals game broadcasts that ran late, as well as tape-delayed hours of the "Tom Snyder Radio Show" which was actually a lot of fun to listen to—a helluva lot more exciting than Larry King’s nightly drone-fest. There were some nights I wouldn’t even get on the air until four or five in the morning if the Cards game ran late because of rain delays or they played on the West Coast (or both), followed by three hours of Snyder, but I kept myself entertained all the same. Unlike in Blue Springs, I also got to do some commercial spots and a few promos from time to time, and I ran through the ball scores a couple times a night on the air too.
A few other noteworthy things happened during my stint in Joetown. I was on the air the night singer Roy Orbison died, so I had the honor (if you want to call it that) of breaking the news before the networks did. I even got on TV during our charity softball game that pitted the K-JO staff against the KQ-2 TV staff (or "I.Q.-2", as we called them), in front of a whopping throng of 52. They showed me hitting a seeing-eye single past their weather tart at second base—and thankfully they cut to another shot just before I damn near fell on my ass as I rounded first! I also got to meet singer Ray Stevens backstage at a concert we promoted heavily on the station.
The fall and winter of ’88-’89 was a fun time for me, but changes were on the horizon for the radio stations as they were sold to a radio mogul from Sioux City, Iowa who came in and changed everything around. In March, he moved the very profitable Country station from the FM to the AM (which pissed off a lot of loyal listeners) and changed the FM format to Top 40. This was the beginning of the end for me, because my on-air delivery style is fairly low-key (think Dick Clark, for example), and Top 40 requires a more energetic style. I kept my same air shift on the new FM and gave it the old college try at being a screamer. Even though we did play some cool stuff like Def Leppard, Guns ‘N’ Roses and Van Halen, I was never comfortable with that format because I found it damn near impossible to feign enthusiasm for playing crap like Milli Vanilli, New Kids On The Block and Tone-Loc, ad nauseam, so I only lasted about three months and change trying to sound like Rick Dees. In a mutual parting of the ways, I resigned in early June and the last words I uttered on my last air shift were, "I am history…" and I was. Thus endeth my radio career. I knew I shoulda made that left turn in Albuquerque—er uh, Knob Noster...
I shopped myself around a little and interviewed at a couple other stations over the next few months, but I soon came to the conclusion that I really wasn’t cut out for a long career in the radio biz. As a DJ, I’d describe myself as adequate, and maybe over time I would have improved, but to be honest, I didn’t really excel at it. You have to be quick on your feet to be a really good DJ, and there were many times I would have something clever to say, but during the transmission of that thought from my brain to my mouth, it would come out all garbled, or my mind would just go blank altogether, and I'd sound like Bullwinkle! This still happens in normal conversation too. I’m pretty good with words and grammar, but just not verbally. In retrospect, you’re looking at the field I should have gone into—writing!
Anyway, I also feared falling into a pattern of my radio gigs only lasting a year or so, and I heeded the words of the singer on the "WKRP In Cincinnati" theme who "got kinda tired of packing and unpacking", so I bagged the radio career in favor of getting a real job. It was fun while it lasted and I do miss working in radio now and then, but there’s just too much instability, and it’s a very funny business (not in a good way) sometimes. There are too many egos to deal with (that was my other downfall—I had no ego, to speak of), and a lot of phonies too. Don’t get me wrong—I encountered a lot of GOOD people too, but there’s about a 2-to-1 phonies-to-good people ratio in radio. To put it in "WKRP" terms, for every Andy Travis in radio, there are TWO Herb Tarleks, and I grew tired of dealing with the majority real quick.
It’s a very cutthroat business, too—not nearly as glamorous as people think—and it’s gotten even worse in this era of multiple-station ownership by these big corporate monsters like Entercom, Susquehanna and Cumulus, et al. I read about mass firings all the time at these broadcasting entities, and it makes me glad I’m not a part of it now. I plan to delve into all that in a future chapter...
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Radio Ga-Ga, Part I
Time for yours truly, Sir Rant-A-Lot, to go to work on the very business I once sought to have a long career in—radio! Is it any small wonder that so many people are buying satellite radios these days, given the current pathetic state of terrestrial radio? I’ve thought about doing the satellite thing myself, but considering that I now have a CD player in my car and enough CDs to (literally) start my own radio station, I can’t really justify it. Sad to say, but radio as we know and love it, is dying a slow and painful death, with the blame due mostly to lack of imagination on the part of programmers and their desire to make every station sound the same. I plan to delve into all that down the road, but first I’d like to give you a little background on my brief, but somewhat eventful radio career.
My dream of becoming a disc jockey was born at approximately 3AM in the middle of the night sometime around 1978 or ‘79 while listening to KBEQ-FM in K.C., aka “Q104”. I distinctly remember thinking how cool it would be to just play records and talk about them on the radio all night, and how easy it would be for me, given my knowledge of Top 40 Rock ‘N’ Roll history and all. So, I wasted five years going to college to learn how to be a DJ (not realizing, of course, that there are far easier and shorter paths to that same goal), and I wound up with a totally worthless degree in Communications Studies from the University of Missouri-Kansas City (Class of ‘87). However, I was lucky enough to secure an internship at KKJC-AM in suburban Blue Springs, MO, or as it was affectionately known, the “Mighty 1030” (or on occasion, the “Dirty 1030”), beginning in the late fall of 1986.
The year 1987 will go down as my all-time favorite in terms of gainful employment, even though I didn’t make squat. My little internship quickly evolved into a part-time job with yours truly manning the very same control board once operated by the legendary Wolfman Jack (during a one-time guest appearance in 1985). I was living the dream (however humbly) with our modicum of listeners—all three of ‘em! I started off being strictly a board operator, plugging in commercials and such during our satellite hours on the Transtar Radio Network, during which I got to deliver the weather (on tape) twice an hour. Other dreams came true for me over time, including getting to read off the school closings when it snowed 14 inches on December 20, 1987 (as my car got buried in a snowdrift in the parking lot, all the while, and my friend Tom had to drive me home), running the board during Kansas City Comets indoor soccer broadcasts (that team being another MAJOR vice of mine during that time), and eventually having my own live shifts yapping on the radio and playing the hits.
It was the best of times and the worst of times, as the station was teetering on the brink financially and was tantalizingly close to being sold and combined with an FM station that would have made for a dandy AM/FM combo, but the deal fell through at the last minute because some horse’s patoot negotiator decided he wanted a little extra gravy for himself. Thus, the "little station that could" quietly faded into oblivion on Super Bowl Sunday, 1988 while the Redskins were pummeling John Elway and the Broncos in San Diego. We gave no prior notice to our loyal listeners (all three of ‘em) that we were signing off for good and there was no fanfare at all. I was rather miffed that no other station personnel were even present at the studio that night (just me and my best friend Tom were there), and I don’t think it was all because of the Super Bowl either—hell, we had the game on in the studio anyway. It was like I was the only person from the staff who even gave a shit about it, and it was very surreal to me.
The plan was to just let the final hours play out as normal off the Transtar satellite, but long about 9:00, I said to Tom, "This is wrong!" so, I hopped off the satellite and rounded up every song that we had on hand that had "Goodbye" or "Bye Bye" in the title ("Goodbye Yellow Brick Road", "Bye Bye Love", "Goodbye To Love", "Never Can Say Goodbye", etc.) and just played them back to back for the final 40 minutes of the "Mighty 1030"’s existence, culminating with The Nylons’ version of "Na Na Hey Hey, Kiss Him Goodbye" (dammit, I wish I had the original Steam version that night!) just before the clock struck 10PM CST and I uttered, "Music from yesterday on AM 1030, KKJC, Blue Springs." Thus, I was bestowed the very unique distinction of my voice being the last one ever heard on a radio station—something I’ll take to the fucking grave with me. As I switched the transmitter off, I turned to Tom and said, "It’s dead, Jim…" A couple minutes later, I get a call from the station owner, Dick Pryor (yes, I can truthfully say I once worked for Richard Pryor!) and he said, "Very appropriate," regarding my choice for the final tune.
R.I.P., KKJC-AM-"The Mighty 1030" (1984-88)
Little did I know at the time that my radio career was already halfway over, too—stay tuned for Part II…
My dream of becoming a disc jockey was born at approximately 3AM in the middle of the night sometime around 1978 or ‘79 while listening to KBEQ-FM in K.C., aka “Q104”. I distinctly remember thinking how cool it would be to just play records and talk about them on the radio all night, and how easy it would be for me, given my knowledge of Top 40 Rock ‘N’ Roll history and all. So, I wasted five years going to college to learn how to be a DJ (not realizing, of course, that there are far easier and shorter paths to that same goal), and I wound up with a totally worthless degree in Communications Studies from the University of Missouri-Kansas City (Class of ‘87). However, I was lucky enough to secure an internship at KKJC-AM in suburban Blue Springs, MO, or as it was affectionately known, the “Mighty 1030” (or on occasion, the “Dirty 1030”), beginning in the late fall of 1986.
The year 1987 will go down as my all-time favorite in terms of gainful employment, even though I didn’t make squat. My little internship quickly evolved into a part-time job with yours truly manning the very same control board once operated by the legendary Wolfman Jack (during a one-time guest appearance in 1985). I was living the dream (however humbly) with our modicum of listeners—all three of ‘em! I started off being strictly a board operator, plugging in commercials and such during our satellite hours on the Transtar Radio Network, during which I got to deliver the weather (on tape) twice an hour. Other dreams came true for me over time, including getting to read off the school closings when it snowed 14 inches on December 20, 1987 (as my car got buried in a snowdrift in the parking lot, all the while, and my friend Tom had to drive me home), running the board during Kansas City Comets indoor soccer broadcasts (that team being another MAJOR vice of mine during that time), and eventually having my own live shifts yapping on the radio and playing the hits.
It was the best of times and the worst of times, as the station was teetering on the brink financially and was tantalizingly close to being sold and combined with an FM station that would have made for a dandy AM/FM combo, but the deal fell through at the last minute because some horse’s patoot negotiator decided he wanted a little extra gravy for himself. Thus, the "little station that could" quietly faded into oblivion on Super Bowl Sunday, 1988 while the Redskins were pummeling John Elway and the Broncos in San Diego. We gave no prior notice to our loyal listeners (all three of ‘em) that we were signing off for good and there was no fanfare at all. I was rather miffed that no other station personnel were even present at the studio that night (just me and my best friend Tom were there), and I don’t think it was all because of the Super Bowl either—hell, we had the game on in the studio anyway. It was like I was the only person from the staff who even gave a shit about it, and it was very surreal to me.
The plan was to just let the final hours play out as normal off the Transtar satellite, but long about 9:00, I said to Tom, "This is wrong!" so, I hopped off the satellite and rounded up every song that we had on hand that had "Goodbye" or "Bye Bye" in the title ("Goodbye Yellow Brick Road", "Bye Bye Love", "Goodbye To Love", "Never Can Say Goodbye", etc.) and just played them back to back for the final 40 minutes of the "Mighty 1030"’s existence, culminating with The Nylons’ version of "Na Na Hey Hey, Kiss Him Goodbye" (dammit, I wish I had the original Steam version that night!) just before the clock struck 10PM CST and I uttered, "Music from yesterday on AM 1030, KKJC, Blue Springs." Thus, I was bestowed the very unique distinction of my voice being the last one ever heard on a radio station—something I’ll take to the fucking grave with me. As I switched the transmitter off, I turned to Tom and said, "It’s dead, Jim…" A couple minutes later, I get a call from the station owner, Dick Pryor (yes, I can truthfully say I once worked for Richard Pryor!) and he said, "Very appropriate," regarding my choice for the final tune.
R.I.P., KKJC-AM-"The Mighty 1030" (1984-88)
Little did I know at the time that my radio career was already halfway over, too—stay tuned for Part II…
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
The Day The Music Got Shot?
I read today that Jay Richardson, son of the late J.P. Richardson (aka The Big Bopper) has hired some forensics expert to exhume his father’s body in an effort to confirm the urban myth/legend that gunfire may have been a factor in the famous plane crash on "The Day The Music Died" in 1959. While it’s well-documented that a gun (supposedly belonging to Buddy Holly or Bopper) was found in the wreckage of the doomed plane, I’ve read and heard several detailed accounts of the crash, and none of them mention gunfire on board the plane. What the hell would be the motive for that anyway? Bopper was pissed because he couldn’t ride shotgun (no pun intended) on the plane? Buddy was annoyed because Bopper farted and stunk up the plane? To paraphrase the late Ritchie Valens: Come on, let it go, already!
Let’s look at the facts, shall we? You had a inexperienced pilot, one Roger Peterson (who wasn’t even yet qualified and/or certified to read some of the instrumentation on that particular model of plane) being called in unexpectedly late at night to fly (on overtime, making fatigue a factor), in poor visibility against the wind straight into a snowstorm using fairly primitive (albeit state-of-the-art) late '50s aircraft and weather forecasting technology. If that ain’t a recipe for disaster, I don’t know what is!
Supposedly, the exhumation of Bopper’s body will allow the forensic expert to find bullet debris in his bones—never mind that the man’s been dead for damn near fifty years! And, don’t you think if there were bullet wounds involved, the coroner would have spotted them during the original autopsies in 1959? I’ve read the autopsy reports on Ritchie Valens and Buddy Holly, and trust me, they’re pretty detailed (not to mention downright gory), so I doubt if Bopper’s autopsy would have been any less thorough to the point where the coroner would have whiffed on bullet wounds or anything of that sort.
While I’m at it—what the hell were those Winter Dance Party Tour promoters thinking by staging a concert tour in the Upper Midwest in January and February?!? One can only imagine how miserable that must have been riding on that cold, rickety old bus at night, especially when you consider they didn’t have the Interstate system to get around on back then—it took a whole lot longer to travel 300 miles or more at a time than it does now. That’s the time of year they should have been touring Florida or Texas or the West Coast and saved the Upper Midwest for April or May when the weather was at least halfway decent for traveling by highway. That whole tragedy could have easily been prevented if those sleazy promoters had been thinking with their brains instead of their wallets. What a waste…
Let’s look at the facts, shall we? You had a inexperienced pilot, one Roger Peterson (who wasn’t even yet qualified and/or certified to read some of the instrumentation on that particular model of plane) being called in unexpectedly late at night to fly (on overtime, making fatigue a factor), in poor visibility against the wind straight into a snowstorm using fairly primitive (albeit state-of-the-art) late '50s aircraft and weather forecasting technology. If that ain’t a recipe for disaster, I don’t know what is!
Supposedly, the exhumation of Bopper’s body will allow the forensic expert to find bullet debris in his bones—never mind that the man’s been dead for damn near fifty years! And, don’t you think if there were bullet wounds involved, the coroner would have spotted them during the original autopsies in 1959? I’ve read the autopsy reports on Ritchie Valens and Buddy Holly, and trust me, they’re pretty detailed (not to mention downright gory), so I doubt if Bopper’s autopsy would have been any less thorough to the point where the coroner would have whiffed on bullet wounds or anything of that sort.
While I’m at it—what the hell were those Winter Dance Party Tour promoters thinking by staging a concert tour in the Upper Midwest in January and February?!? One can only imagine how miserable that must have been riding on that cold, rickety old bus at night, especially when you consider they didn’t have the Interstate system to get around on back then—it took a whole lot longer to travel 300 miles or more at a time than it does now. That’s the time of year they should have been touring Florida or Texas or the West Coast and saved the Upper Midwest for April or May when the weather was at least halfway decent for traveling by highway. That whole tragedy could have easily been prevented if those sleazy promoters had been thinking with their brains instead of their wallets. What a waste…
Where bad ideas come from...
What goes around comes around, even when it comes to bad fashion. Witness Exhibit A, circa 1967, from the Intergalactic Wal-Mart Collection:
<----"Never fear, Smith is here!"
<----"Never fear, Smith is here!"
And the misbegotten Exhibit B, circa 1982, Vancouver, Canada, which was copied from Exhibit A!: 
"Run, Will Robinson!"
What's wrong with this picture?
Saw a blurb in the paper today that says "Judge" Judy makes $100 million a year—more than all the Supreme Court justices combined! Think about that—this phony judge, in this phony courtroom, with phony litigants and a phony baliff (who does crossword puzzles during the show)—not to mention a woman who utters such tripe as "She’s the boss, applesauce!", rakes in more salary than the very people who are entrusted to interpret the laws of our country! Is it any small wonder the rest of the world hates us?
Oscar nominations
The Oscar nominations were announced today. Of all the award shows, I think the Academy Awards have the most integrity and the most relevance, but as usual, the Academy members appear to collectively have short-term memories, since most of the nominations went to films that came out in or around December. Screw all those good flicks that came out last summer, huh? And Meryl Streep again for best actress? I don’t mean to imply that she hasn’t had some Oscar-worthy performances in the past—she certainly has—but I swear, this woman could play a crash test dummy in a film and get nominated! Sorry kids, but The Devil Wears Prada sucked (yes, I have seen it), and Streep’s character was too over-the-top, totally unlikable and unbelievable, and impossible for me to buy into. I truly hope Kate Winslet kicks her hiney in the voting...
Meanwhile, why the filth-flarn-filth wasn't World Trade Center nominated for Best Picture? For the first time since Platoon, Oliver Stone finally nailed one, and the Academy is sleeping at the wheel again. Excellent film, if you haven't seen it yet...
And a round of applause please for Jackie Earle Haley's nomination for Best Supporting Actor in Little Children. which I hear is quite good, but haven't seen yet. Talk about being picked up off the Hollywood scrap heap and being put back into circulation. This guy was (literally) on skid row at one point, and he's now the equivalent of the New Orleans Saints in terms of being the sentimental favorite at this year's Oscars...
Meanwhile, why the filth-flarn-filth wasn't World Trade Center nominated for Best Picture? For the first time since Platoon, Oliver Stone finally nailed one, and the Academy is sleeping at the wheel again. Excellent film, if you haven't seen it yet...
And a round of applause please for Jackie Earle Haley's nomination for Best Supporting Actor in Little Children. which I hear is quite good, but haven't seen yet. Talk about being picked up off the Hollywood scrap heap and being put back into circulation. This guy was (literally) on skid row at one point, and he's now the equivalent of the New Orleans Saints in terms of being the sentimental favorite at this year's Oscars...
Monday, January 22, 2007
General meanderings...
MAYBE LIKE PEYTON MANNING'S TEAM, MAYBE
That's my pick in SB XLI in two weeks. I was quite pleased to see Peyton and Tony Dungy finally get that simian off their backs yesterday by getting to the big show. I was hoping the Saints would make the big show too, but it was not to be, darn it. However, I was quite pleased that we won't have endure any more sideline shots of Patriots coach Bill Belichick this year--great coach, but I'm as sick of looking at him as I am of Bill Parcells (who did the world a big favor and retired today). P. Manning's been a class act throughout his career, and it's nice to see the good guys get rewarded here, especially after all the hell Dungy when through this time last year when his son committed suicide. As for the Bears, I have trouble getting behind a team with a head coach named "Lovie"--reminds me too much of Mrs. Howell on "Gilligan's Island". Therefore, GO Colts! BUT--in the event that Da Bears do indeed win the title, I'm going to ask them nicely to spare the world a sequel to their infamous "Super Bowl Shuffle" from the first time they won it all...
YA GOTTA BOOK A BOOGIE?!?
A little history was made recently in the National Hockey League, as the first Japanese-born player made his debut with the L.A. Kings, goaltender Yataka Fukifuji. One can only imagine what fun Chris Berman on ESPN is going to have with that name...
NICE PANTS, RANDY!
Was watching a Journey video on VH-1 Classic the other day from that misbegotten period when current "American Idol" judge Randy Jackson was their bass player. Couldn't help but get a chuckle out of seeing him waddling on-stage with his fat ass in those tight leather pants. He had about as much business wearing those damn things as I would at my current weight...
IN TRIBUTE TO TRIBUTE BANDS...
Top 3 Tribute Band Names Ever (So Far)
1) We Got The Meat (All-male gay Go-Go's tribute band)
2) A-She/D-She (All-girl AC/DC tribute band, featuring guitarist Agnes Young--And I presume singer Bonnie Scott or Brianna Johnson!)
3) Bjorn Again (ABBA tribute group)
UGLY BETTY
Have to admit, I was wrong in my original judgment of this show—it ain't half bad! The show's title made me immediately skeptical—sounded too gimmicky to me—but just for hoots and hollers, I tuned it in the other night and was pleasantly surprised. The premise is not unlike "Less Than Perfect", with the main character working in an office with a bunch of elitist snobs and/or "beautiful people" and constantly getting the rubber end of the plunger from them. The girl that plays Betty, America Ferrera, is actually rather cute when not made-up like Betty. The jury is still out on how long this show will last, but it's a damn sight better than "Desperate Housewives" or "King Of Queens". Worth a look, if you have the time...
That's my pick in SB XLI in two weeks. I was quite pleased to see Peyton and Tony Dungy finally get that simian off their backs yesterday by getting to the big show. I was hoping the Saints would make the big show too, but it was not to be, darn it. However, I was quite pleased that we won't have endure any more sideline shots of Patriots coach Bill Belichick this year--great coach, but I'm as sick of looking at him as I am of Bill Parcells (who did the world a big favor and retired today). P. Manning's been a class act throughout his career, and it's nice to see the good guys get rewarded here, especially after all the hell Dungy when through this time last year when his son committed suicide. As for the Bears, I have trouble getting behind a team with a head coach named "Lovie"--reminds me too much of Mrs. Howell on "Gilligan's Island". Therefore, GO Colts! BUT--in the event that Da Bears do indeed win the title, I'm going to ask them nicely to spare the world a sequel to their infamous "Super Bowl Shuffle" from the first time they won it all...
YA GOTTA BOOK A BOOGIE?!?
A little history was made recently in the National Hockey League, as the first Japanese-born player made his debut with the L.A. Kings, goaltender Yataka Fukifuji. One can only imagine what fun Chris Berman on ESPN is going to have with that name...
NICE PANTS, RANDY!
Was watching a Journey video on VH-1 Classic the other day from that misbegotten period when current "American Idol" judge Randy Jackson was their bass player. Couldn't help but get a chuckle out of seeing him waddling on-stage with his fat ass in those tight leather pants. He had about as much business wearing those damn things as I would at my current weight...
IN TRIBUTE TO TRIBUTE BANDS...
Top 3 Tribute Band Names Ever (So Far)
1) We Got The Meat (All-male gay Go-Go's tribute band)
2) A-She/D-She (All-girl AC/DC tribute band, featuring guitarist Agnes Young--And I presume singer Bonnie Scott or Brianna Johnson!)
3) Bjorn Again (ABBA tribute group)
UGLY BETTY
Have to admit, I was wrong in my original judgment of this show—it ain't half bad! The show's title made me immediately skeptical—sounded too gimmicky to me—but just for hoots and hollers, I tuned it in the other night and was pleasantly surprised. The premise is not unlike "Less Than Perfect", with the main character working in an office with a bunch of elitist snobs and/or "beautiful people" and constantly getting the rubber end of the plunger from them. The girl that plays Betty, America Ferrera, is actually rather cute when not made-up like Betty. The jury is still out on how long this show will last, but it's a damn sight better than "Desperate Housewives" or "King Of Queens". Worth a look, if you have the time...
Sunday, January 21, 2007
After further review...
Gene Simmons' stock hath fallen even further with me today. I watched a couple episodes of his lame reality TV show today (btw, ain't that a redundant term--lame reality TV show?), "Family Jewels". In one such episode, Gene and his lovely family were on some sort of vacation to do some snowboarding in the Colorado mountains, and our favorite wacky demon was freaking out about having to board a ski-lift to take him to the top of the mountain. This is the same guy who breathes fire and has absolutely no fear of being transported via fairly precarious cables to the top of the Kiss lighting rig in an attempt to give his audience the illusion of "flying" night after night in concert, and yet he's scared of a ski-lift? Riiiight. Hell, yours truly has ridden on a ski-lift (minus the snow on the ground, no less) without fear, not to mention the "Big Shot" ride 900 bloody feet above the earth on the Stratosphere tower in Las Vegas, and I didn't bat a fucking eyelash! Either Gene was play-acting or was truly scared shitless on his little TV show, and either way, he looked like a total wuss!
Saturday, January 20, 2007
Great Moments In Radio, Volume II
This story comes via the engineer I worked with at our little station in Blue Springs. He was previously a DJ in the late ‘60s at KUDL-FM in Kansas City when that station changed music formats with alarming frequency, and during one such switcheroo, the station went from middle-of-the-road Geritol-generation Perry Como/Dinah Shore/Bing Crosby music to Rock & Roll. One evening, he gets a call from this old lady bitching about the music, "This is terrible! What on earth is that?" "It’s Jimi Hendrix, ma’am," he replied. "Well that’s awful—you shouldn’t play that kind of music on the radio, blah blah blah." Well, this old hag would call him every night bitching about the music, until finally he could no longer take it, and one night he went off on her and said, "Oh, go fuck yourself, lady!" Next day, he went to the station manager and told him what happened just to cover his ass, and the manager said, "Yeah, she’s been calling me too—don’t worry about it." Sure enough, the old hag calls the manager that day, and says, "Your disc jockey last night was very rude and used profanity, blah blah blah." The station manager replied, "Did he tell you to go fuck yourself?" "Yes, he surely did!" she said, to which he replied, "Well, DO IT!"
So long, Mr. Harbor Master
Was very saddened to learn today of the death of former Mamas & Papas singer Denny Doherty at age 66 from kidney failure. John Phillips always seems to get the lion's share of the credit for that group's success, but Doherty was the unsung hero here. He was a very underrated vocalist--it was his voice you heard most prominently on all their hits harmonizing with Cass Elliot and Michelle Phillips, while John Phillips sang mostly backing vocals.
I refer to Denny as the "Harbor Master" because that's the character he played on this quirky little PBS kids program called "Theodore Tugboat". When I was working evenings back in the late '90s, I often caught the show in the mornings while doing housework and such, and found it to be a total hoot. Doherty voiced all the characters on this live action animated show featuring these little boats that talked and tooled around this miniature city. It was rather inventive, and got its point across to kids without losing its cool and/or being so condescending to kids like that "Barney" and "Teletubbies" drivel.
R.I.P., Denny, you done good...
Thursday, January 18, 2007
World's Dumbest Song Lyrics of All-Time, Vol. II
Again, in no particular order
"Play Me"—NEIL DIAMOND (1972) "Songs she sang to me/Songs she brang to me." Brang?!?!? A in’t no such word as "brang"! Unfortunately, neither the words "brought" or "provided" rhymed with "sang", so Brother Neil just made up a word…
"Just Like Paradise"—DAVID LEE ROTH (1988) "Susie’s woozy." Diamond Dave will never be renowned for his brilliant lyricism. Too bad, in this particular case, because he spoiled a really good song simply for a cheap and easy rhyme.
"Gimme Some Slack"—THE CARS (1980) "I wanna shake like LaGuardia…" Huh? Are we referring to LaGuardia, the man or La Guardia, the airport here? Either way, it’s too abstract for my feeble brain to deal with. Ric Ocasek’s lyrics always were pretty strange. In the words of the late Keith Moon: "Arty-farty, he is!"
"The Look"—ROXETTE (1988) "Kissing is the wet sand…her loving is a wild dog" They should have renamed this song "Things That Make You Go ‘Huh?’" "What in the world can make a brown-eyed girl turn blue?" Well, cutting off her air supply is one way…
"Blinded By The Light"—BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN (1973)/MANFRED MANN’S EARTH BAND (1976) What the hell was Bruce smoking when he wrote this song? Someone find out because I want some. I could probably write a whole book about this song, but I don't have the time at the moment. I always misunderstood the line "Wrapped up like a deuce" to be "Wrapped up like a douche"!
"My Love, My Life"—ABBA (1977) "I know I don’t possess you/So, go away, God bless you." Well ain’t that a fine how do ya do? Go away, and God bless you at the same time?!? I'm confused…
"Bad Medicine"—BON JOVI (1986) "Your love is like bad medicine/Bad medicine is what I need." Thanks, Big Jon! Your words are like dumb lyrics, and dumb lyrics are what I need…
"Aqualung"—JETHRO TULL (1971) "…as he bends to pick a dog end." What the fuck’s a dog end? And why on earth would you want to pick one?
"Take Me To The Pilot"—ELTON JOHN (1970) "If you feel that it’s real, I’m on trial/And I’m held here in your prison…Through a glass eye, your throne is the one danger zone/Take me to the pilot for control/Take me to the pilot of your soul." Another classic case of lyrics that sound really cool when you sing them, but don’t make a lick of sense!
"MacArthur Park"—RICHARD HARRIS (1968)/DONNA SUMMER (1978) Let me get this straight—there’s this cake named after a dead General and a park and someone left it outside in the rain causing it to melt and on top of all that, the dumbass that baked it lost the damn recipe? And this was considered topical enough to write a song about? Okey-fine…
"Love The One You're With"--STEPHEN STILLS (1970) "She's a girl, and you're a boy..." Gee thanks for clearing that up, Steve! As Archie Bunker once said to Edith, "Well, now that we know what we are, can we GET ON with it?!?"
"A Horse With No Name"--AMERICA (1972) "The heat was hot, and the ground was dry..." Direct from the Department of Redundancy Department. I do hope the water was wet too…
"Show Me The Way"--PETER FRAMPTON (1973) "Someone drops a cup, and I submerge." This song is chuck-full of oddball lyrics like this one, yet somehow, it was a huge hit when the live version came out in '76. Anyone have a clue here? I don't…
"Play Me"—NEIL DIAMOND (1972) "Songs she sang to me/Songs she brang to me." Brang?!?!? A in’t no such word as "brang"! Unfortunately, neither the words "brought" or "provided" rhymed with "sang", so Brother Neil just made up a word…
"Just Like Paradise"—DAVID LEE ROTH (1988) "Susie’s woozy." Diamond Dave will never be renowned for his brilliant lyricism. Too bad, in this particular case, because he spoiled a really good song simply for a cheap and easy rhyme.
"Gimme Some Slack"—THE CARS (1980) "I wanna shake like LaGuardia…" Huh? Are we referring to LaGuardia, the man or La Guardia, the airport here? Either way, it’s too abstract for my feeble brain to deal with. Ric Ocasek’s lyrics always were pretty strange. In the words of the late Keith Moon: "Arty-farty, he is!"
"The Look"—ROXETTE (1988) "Kissing is the wet sand…her loving is a wild dog" They should have renamed this song "Things That Make You Go ‘Huh?’" "What in the world can make a brown-eyed girl turn blue?" Well, cutting off her air supply is one way…
"Blinded By The Light"—BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN (1973)/MANFRED MANN’S EARTH BAND (1976) What the hell was Bruce smoking when he wrote this song? Someone find out because I want some. I could probably write a whole book about this song, but I don't have the time at the moment. I always misunderstood the line "Wrapped up like a deuce" to be "Wrapped up like a douche"!
"My Love, My Life"—ABBA (1977) "I know I don’t possess you/So, go away, God bless you." Well ain’t that a fine how do ya do? Go away, and God bless you at the same time?!? I'm confused…
"Bad Medicine"—BON JOVI (1986) "Your love is like bad medicine/Bad medicine is what I need." Thanks, Big Jon! Your words are like dumb lyrics, and dumb lyrics are what I need…
"Aqualung"—JETHRO TULL (1971) "…as he bends to pick a dog end." What the fuck’s a dog end? And why on earth would you want to pick one?
"Take Me To The Pilot"—ELTON JOHN (1970) "If you feel that it’s real, I’m on trial/And I’m held here in your prison…Through a glass eye, your throne is the one danger zone/Take me to the pilot for control/Take me to the pilot of your soul." Another classic case of lyrics that sound really cool when you sing them, but don’t make a lick of sense!
"MacArthur Park"—RICHARD HARRIS (1968)/DONNA SUMMER (1978) Let me get this straight—there’s this cake named after a dead General and a park and someone left it outside in the rain causing it to melt and on top of all that, the dumbass that baked it lost the damn recipe? And this was considered topical enough to write a song about? Okey-fine…
"Love The One You're With"--STEPHEN STILLS (1970) "She's a girl, and you're a boy..." Gee thanks for clearing that up, Steve! As Archie Bunker once said to Edith, "Well, now that we know what we are, can we GET ON with it?!?"
"A Horse With No Name"--AMERICA (1972) "The heat was hot, and the ground was dry..." Direct from the Department of Redundancy Department. I do hope the water was wet too…
"Show Me The Way"--PETER FRAMPTON (1973) "Someone drops a cup, and I submerge." This song is chuck-full of oddball lyrics like this one, yet somehow, it was a huge hit when the live version came out in '76. Anyone have a clue here? I don't…
This and that...
BEGONE, SUPERCILIOUS TWITS!
Is there anyone else who’s as tired as I am of hearing about Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt? Does anyone really give a damn that they’ve adopted some poor Guatemalan child (or whatever God-forsaken country their kid’s from)? These two are nothing but publicity whores to begin with, and I’m sorry folks, neither of them are worth it! Jolie, in particular, is insanely overrated (both in terms of beauty and acting ability), and Pitt’s an idiot for dumping Jennifer Aniston (who’s 100 times prettier) in favor of this airhead. Today’s headline sez they’re moving to New Orleans so they can operate their opportunistic "save the world from itself one-child-at-a-time" crusade from there. Whatever, kids…
WHY OBAMA?
Can someone explain to me why all of a sudden this Barack Obama guy is considered a potential candidate for President in ’08? Don’t get me wrong—I am certainly ALL FOR some fresh faces and new ideas in Washington, but why is this guy suddenly everyone's sexy choice to be Prez? I realize the Democraps are desperate for someone—ANYONE—to trot out there and lead them, but this guy with the terrible initials has only been in Congress a short while, so what’s so special about him? Surely, it’s not just on the strength of the big speech he gave at the Dem. Convention in ’04 alone, is it? The fact that he’s black doesn’t bother me at all (hell, I’ll take a PLAID President at this point, if he’s worth a damn!), but I just don’t get how someone can just suddenly come along out of nowhere and get everyone’s tongues wagging over him when he hasn’t really done anything.
CLASSIC MISHEARD LYRIC #1
Ringo Starr--"Oh My My" (1974): "It’s guaranteed to keep you alive…" When I first heard this song at age 9 on the ol’ AM radio, I thought he was singing, "This parakeet should keep you alive…"!
COME BACK WHEN YOU GROW UP
It’s rare that I would even have an opinion on professional golf, but why is it every other weekend I tune into ESPN and hear about Michelle Wie not making the cut in some men’s tournament? Seems to me she isn’t even good enough to beat other women right now. Can you say "overmatched"?
SPEND IT LIKE BECKHAM
I can’t believe no one’s used that headline yet! The soccer world in America is all in a whirl over the L.A. Galaxy’s signing of David Beckham for 250 million semolians just to kick a ball around for Major League Soccer. Yes, I know he’s world-renowned and a great player and married to Skanky Spice and all, but this whole thing smacks of desperation on the part of a struggling league hard up to sell tickets—the guy ain’t THAT good! It wouldn’t surprise me a bit if they go after that French head-butt butt-head Zinedine Zidane too. The old North American Soocer League prostituted itself around and snagged over-the-hill South American and European stars like Pele and Giorgio Chinaglia, et al, to play for them in the late ‘70s, and while it yielded great initial results at the turnstiles, they paid through the nose for it in the long run and the league went bankrupt by the mid ‘80s. I predict the same thing happening in MLS, and as for Beckham, I think he’s more style-over-substance than anything else—he’ll fill the seats for a year or two, not to mention provide plenty of tabloid fodder, but eventually people will get bored with and cease giving a hoot about him (and Skanky Spice) anymore.
YER NOT FROM AROUND HERE, ARE YA?
Speaking of British guys, I love this story about the TV show "The Nanny". Seems that several viewers complained during the course of the show’s run that actor Charles Shaughnessy, who played tight-ass Mr. Sheffield, didn’t sound "British" enough, even though he’s from merry ol' England. Many often asked why he couldn’t sound more like the guy who played Niles the Butler (Daniel Davis). What cracks me up about all this is that Mr. Davis hails from Arkansas, yet was able to pull off a British accent better than the British guy!
ONE OF MY FAVORITE JOKES OF ALL-TIME
Q: What's the difference between the Lawrence Welk Orchestra and a moose?
A: For one thing, a moose has its horns in the front and its asshole in the rear...
Is there anyone else who’s as tired as I am of hearing about Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt? Does anyone really give a damn that they’ve adopted some poor Guatemalan child (or whatever God-forsaken country their kid’s from)? These two are nothing but publicity whores to begin with, and I’m sorry folks, neither of them are worth it! Jolie, in particular, is insanely overrated (both in terms of beauty and acting ability), and Pitt’s an idiot for dumping Jennifer Aniston (who’s 100 times prettier) in favor of this airhead. Today’s headline sez they’re moving to New Orleans so they can operate their opportunistic "save the world from itself one-child-at-a-time" crusade from there. Whatever, kids…
WHY OBAMA?
Can someone explain to me why all of a sudden this Barack Obama guy is considered a potential candidate for President in ’08? Don’t get me wrong—I am certainly ALL FOR some fresh faces and new ideas in Washington, but why is this guy suddenly everyone's sexy choice to be Prez? I realize the Democraps are desperate for someone—ANYONE—to trot out there and lead them, but this guy with the terrible initials has only been in Congress a short while, so what’s so special about him? Surely, it’s not just on the strength of the big speech he gave at the Dem. Convention in ’04 alone, is it? The fact that he’s black doesn’t bother me at all (hell, I’ll take a PLAID President at this point, if he’s worth a damn!), but I just don’t get how someone can just suddenly come along out of nowhere and get everyone’s tongues wagging over him when he hasn’t really done anything.
CLASSIC MISHEARD LYRIC #1
Ringo Starr--"Oh My My" (1974): "It’s guaranteed to keep you alive…" When I first heard this song at age 9 on the ol’ AM radio, I thought he was singing, "This parakeet should keep you alive…"!
COME BACK WHEN YOU GROW UP
It’s rare that I would even have an opinion on professional golf, but why is it every other weekend I tune into ESPN and hear about Michelle Wie not making the cut in some men’s tournament? Seems to me she isn’t even good enough to beat other women right now. Can you say "overmatched"?
SPEND IT LIKE BECKHAM
I can’t believe no one’s used that headline yet! The soccer world in America is all in a whirl over the L.A. Galaxy’s signing of David Beckham for 250 million semolians just to kick a ball around for Major League Soccer. Yes, I know he’s world-renowned and a great player and married to Skanky Spice and all, but this whole thing smacks of desperation on the part of a struggling league hard up to sell tickets—the guy ain’t THAT good! It wouldn’t surprise me a bit if they go after that French head-butt butt-head Zinedine Zidane too. The old North American Soocer League prostituted itself around and snagged over-the-hill South American and European stars like Pele and Giorgio Chinaglia, et al, to play for them in the late ‘70s, and while it yielded great initial results at the turnstiles, they paid through the nose for it in the long run and the league went bankrupt by the mid ‘80s. I predict the same thing happening in MLS, and as for Beckham, I think he’s more style-over-substance than anything else—he’ll fill the seats for a year or two, not to mention provide plenty of tabloid fodder, but eventually people will get bored with and cease giving a hoot about him (and Skanky Spice) anymore.
YER NOT FROM AROUND HERE, ARE YA?
Speaking of British guys, I love this story about the TV show "The Nanny". Seems that several viewers complained during the course of the show’s run that actor Charles Shaughnessy, who played tight-ass Mr. Sheffield, didn’t sound "British" enough, even though he’s from merry ol' England. Many often asked why he couldn’t sound more like the guy who played Niles the Butler (Daniel Davis). What cracks me up about all this is that Mr. Davis hails from Arkansas, yet was able to pull off a British accent better than the British guy!
ONE OF MY FAVORITE JOKES OF ALL-TIME
Q: What's the difference between the Lawrence Welk Orchestra and a moose?
A: For one thing, a moose has its horns in the front and its asshole in the rear...
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
The continued pussification of America...
It's late here, but I have to rant after noting that they're closing the schools AGAIN tomorrow around most of the city here, in spite of the fact that there ain't a damn thing wrong with the roads! Okay, it was like 0°F this morning, thus why they closed the schools today, even though most of the roads were clear and passable, yet it took me ten minutes less to get home from work today than it normally does. Meantime, tomorrow morning's forecast isn't quite as cold, and the high is supposed to be ABOVE freezing tomorrow, yet many of the area's school districts are closing anyway! In the words of Col. Potter on "M*A*S*H", "Mule fritters!"
At the risk of this sounding like sour grapes, it took a fucking act of Congress to get them to close the schools 30 years ago when I was a student! As much as I used to love pining to hear "Raytown Consolidated School District #2" mentioned on the radio at 4AM on the official school closing list when I was 13, I now find it rather repugnant that they seemingly close the freakin' schools nowadays every time a dark cloud hovers overhead. And I certainly don't remember them EVER closing the schools because it was too cold out—WE were expected to suck it up and freeze to death at the bus stop. Sadly, the school districts are now so paranoid about potential lawsuits in the event a bus full of kids goes off in a ditch in the snow, etc., they evidently have no choice but to close the schools at the drop of a hat.
Hell, in early 1977, the Raytown school district dilly-dallied during a freezing-rain event (as they call them on the Weather Channel now) and waited until the last minute to call off school. My Dad and I were totally unaware of this fact, thus he drove me to school that day, and I waited and waited for the janitor to unlock the door to let me in. When he finally did, he informed me that school had been called off for the day. Thus, I wound up walking—er uh, sliding—the 1.5 miles back home, falling on my ass twice in the process. It was more than a tad ironical (pun intended) that the big hit song on the charts that week was Paul Simon's "Slip Slidin' Away"...
At the risk of this sounding like sour grapes, it took a fucking act of Congress to get them to close the schools 30 years ago when I was a student! As much as I used to love pining to hear "Raytown Consolidated School District #2" mentioned on the radio at 4AM on the official school closing list when I was 13, I now find it rather repugnant that they seemingly close the freakin' schools nowadays every time a dark cloud hovers overhead. And I certainly don't remember them EVER closing the schools because it was too cold out—WE were expected to suck it up and freeze to death at the bus stop. Sadly, the school districts are now so paranoid about potential lawsuits in the event a bus full of kids goes off in a ditch in the snow, etc., they evidently have no choice but to close the schools at the drop of a hat.
Hell, in early 1977, the Raytown school district dilly-dallied during a freezing-rain event (as they call them on the Weather Channel now) and waited until the last minute to call off school. My Dad and I were totally unaware of this fact, thus he drove me to school that day, and I waited and waited for the janitor to unlock the door to let me in. When he finally did, he informed me that school had been called off for the day. Thus, I wound up walking—er uh, sliding—the 1.5 miles back home, falling on my ass twice in the process. It was more than a tad ironical (pun intended) that the big hit song on the charts that week was Paul Simon's "Slip Slidin' Away"...
Fallen Idols
My apologies for the length of this post, but please indulge me a bit here, if you will...
"It’s not the pain that hurts—what hurts is finding out that one of your idols is a real asshole!"
Those are the words of a cocktail waitress at the famed Troubadour nightclub in L.A. who was accidentally punched by an out-of-control and drunk-off-his-ass John Lennon in 1974 at a Smothers Brothers show, during one of Lennon’s infamous lost weekends while separated from Yoko Ono. Although I’ve never been assaulted by one of my idols, I can relate to that quote in terms of watching those who I once worshipped go over to the Dark Side, so to speak. I guess it’s a sign of my own personal growth that I’m able to sort through the B.S. and see them for who they really are now, but it still sucks to realize they aren’t (or never quite were) the person I idolized when I was young.
The poster child for this phenomenon is Ted Nugent. When I was 14, I wanted to BE Ted Nugent. His music was loud and testosterony—perfectly suited for adolescents like me. I Ioved his attitude in concert: "Anybody wants to get mellow, you can turn around and get the fuck outta here!" I still love his music today (and always will), but I’ve grown really weary of all the right-wing psuedo-patriot histrionics he spews forth now via TV interviews, as well as his own radio show and lame reality TV show. Nugent has always had a big mouth, to be sure, but back in 1978, his cockiness and bravado were funny and rather endearing. Now it’s all just pure arrogant macho bullshit in my eyes.
My current distaste for Nugent began in the late ‘90s when he started portraying himself as "Mr. Conservative Family Values Man"—riiiight. This coming from a guy who played on-stage wearing nothing but a loin cloth, not to mention a guy who has had more paternity suits slapped on him than Hugh Grant. Conservative, my ass! Then he started kissing up to the Republican Party, campaigning for Dubya under the guise of being a "patriotic American", when I know damn well it was all just to ensure he and his NRA buddies could keep their precious guns.
My my, what raging paranoia these NRA-types have, by the way! Just for the record, my official stance on guns is if you just have to have them, fine, whatever, but they are way too easy to obtain in this country (witness Columbine, et al) and there need to be stricter gun laws to keep them out of the wrong hands. Oh yeah, one more thing: don't bash me just because I choose NOT to own a gun—this means YOU, Ted! I'm the last person you want owning a gun anyway—if I did, every barking dog within 200 yards of my house would be dead. But, I digress...
Long about that same time, Nugent got on this bigoted "Get out of America if you can’t speak English" kick during his concerts, which had absolutely nothing to do with the performances thereof, and I was really turned-off by it. When I attend a concert, I’m there to be entertained, not to be fed a bunch of radical right-wing political folderol and/or racism, and Ted crosses the line time and time again. I also find it highly hypocritical on his part to malign Hispanic people when his own bass player's last name is Mendoza, yet he constantly refers to him as a "blood brother"! Nuge has also been known to spout off about gays, liberals and anyone else who isn’t "just like him" and while Ted’s entitled to his opinions, I personally think he’s talking out of his ass most of the time now. The real shame about it is he can still play guitar with the best of them, but he doesn’t seem to care that much about his musical career anymore. There was a time when I’d have walked the proverbial "mile for a Camel" to see Nugent in concert—now I wouldn’t even walk to the end of my back yard to see him play because he’s become such an insufferable jackoff. Hey Ted, why don't you take the late Frank Zappa's advice: "Shut up and play yer guitar!"
As much as I love Kiss, Gene Simmons is another of the idols of my youth who’s become a major disappointment to me in recent years. While not nearly as offensive as Nugent, this once-great Rock & Roll warrior whom I idolized when I was 12 has revealed himself to be a total money-grubber and egomaniac, all the while pissing all over his own band’s legacy. True, the whole merchandising thing was part of the Kiss arsenal 30 years ago, but it seemed innocent enough then. Now, it’s become a joke to watch Simmons (and Paul Stanley, to a much lesser extent) look for every possible way to milk a buck off the band’s name to the point where you can now buy everything from Kiss tampons to your very own Kiss casket ("Death, I hear you calling…"). Sebastian Bach of Skid Row accurately pointed out recently that the ultimate piece of merchandise for the average Kiss fan right now would be a new Kiss album, but Gene doesn’t seem interested in providing the fans with one of those anytime soon.
Meanwhile (with all due respect to Eric Singer and Tommy Thayer—both fine musicians, indeed), the band itself now looks more like a Kiss tribute band than the real thing. Five years ago, it would have been unfathomable that I would miss a Kiss concert in Kansas City, but they’ve been through here twice since then and I passed both times—it’s just not the same without Ace and Peter, and it’s mostly because of Simmons that they are no longer in the band. Gene’s insatiable ego also manifests itself in other ways, like his lame reality show "Family Jewels", not to mention his arrogant claim to have had sex with 3,000 women (or whatever his current figure is). Give me a break already—if he’d tried to fuck that many women, he’d be dead by now!
A couple years back, I nearly lost all respect for Simmons when he showed up on "Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?" to obstensibly play the game, when he was really there just to hawk his latest tell-all/Ace-and-Peter-bashing book, and the fucker didn't even know what a pachyderm was! Then I wanted to hurl when I found out the fire-breathing, blood-spitting demon I once idolized was also hawking his book on "The View" (witness this photo) with Baba Wawa and Co. See also my beer commercial rant on him a few posts back. Gene still talks a good game about how the fans are #1 and that he still cares about the music and all, but I'm not buying it anymore. I'd rather watch the old videos of then it was real...
Ted and Gene are just two examples, with another being Eddie Van Halen (whom I previously discussed a couple posts back), and I'd even include Danny Bonaduce in that league (although I never really idolized him all that much). I guess it's a testament to my own maturity that I'm not all starry-eyed and blindly worshipping these guys anymore. Still, I can't help but feel betrayed sometimes...
"It’s not the pain that hurts—what hurts is finding out that one of your idols is a real asshole!"
Those are the words of a cocktail waitress at the famed Troubadour nightclub in L.A. who was accidentally punched by an out-of-control and drunk-off-his-ass John Lennon in 1974 at a Smothers Brothers show, during one of Lennon’s infamous lost weekends while separated from Yoko Ono. Although I’ve never been assaulted by one of my idols, I can relate to that quote in terms of watching those who I once worshipped go over to the Dark Side, so to speak. I guess it’s a sign of my own personal growth that I’m able to sort through the B.S. and see them for who they really are now, but it still sucks to realize they aren’t (or never quite were) the person I idolized when I was young.
The poster child for this phenomenon is Ted Nugent. When I was 14, I wanted to BE Ted Nugent. His music was loud and testosterony—perfectly suited for adolescents like me. I Ioved his attitude in concert: "Anybody wants to get mellow, you can turn around and get the fuck outta here!" I still love his music today (and always will), but I’ve grown really weary of all the right-wing psuedo-patriot histrionics he spews forth now via TV interviews, as well as his own radio show and lame reality TV show. Nugent has always had a big mouth, to be sure, but back in 1978, his cockiness and bravado were funny and rather endearing. Now it’s all just pure arrogant macho bullshit in my eyes.
My current distaste for Nugent began in the late ‘90s when he started portraying himself as "Mr. Conservative Family Values Man"—riiiight. This coming from a guy who played on-stage wearing nothing but a loin cloth, not to mention a guy who has had more paternity suits slapped on him than Hugh Grant. Conservative, my ass! Then he started kissing up to the Republican Party, campaigning for Dubya under the guise of being a "patriotic American", when I know damn well it was all just to ensure he and his NRA buddies could keep their precious guns.
My my, what raging paranoia these NRA-types have, by the way! Just for the record, my official stance on guns is if you just have to have them, fine, whatever, but they are way too easy to obtain in this country (witness Columbine, et al) and there need to be stricter gun laws to keep them out of the wrong hands. Oh yeah, one more thing: don't bash me just because I choose NOT to own a gun—this means YOU, Ted! I'm the last person you want owning a gun anyway—if I did, every barking dog within 200 yards of my house would be dead. But, I digress...
Long about that same time, Nugent got on this bigoted "Get out of America if you can’t speak English" kick during his concerts, which had absolutely nothing to do with the performances thereof, and I was really turned-off by it. When I attend a concert, I’m there to be entertained, not to be fed a bunch of radical right-wing political folderol and/or racism, and Ted crosses the line time and time again. I also find it highly hypocritical on his part to malign Hispanic people when his own bass player's last name is Mendoza, yet he constantly refers to him as a "blood brother"! Nuge has also been known to spout off about gays, liberals and anyone else who isn’t "just like him" and while Ted’s entitled to his opinions, I personally think he’s talking out of his ass most of the time now. The real shame about it is he can still play guitar with the best of them, but he doesn’t seem to care that much about his musical career anymore. There was a time when I’d have walked the proverbial "mile for a Camel" to see Nugent in concert—now I wouldn’t even walk to the end of my back yard to see him play because he’s become such an insufferable jackoff. Hey Ted, why don't you take the late Frank Zappa's advice: "Shut up and play yer guitar!"
As much as I love Kiss, Gene Simmons is another of the idols of my youth who’s become a major disappointment to me in recent years. While not nearly as offensive as Nugent, this once-great Rock & Roll warrior whom I idolized when I was 12 has revealed himself to be a total money-grubber and egomaniac, all the while pissing all over his own band’s legacy. True, the whole merchandising thing was part of the Kiss arsenal 30 years ago, but it seemed innocent enough then. Now, it’s become a joke to watch Simmons (and Paul Stanley, to a much lesser extent) look for every possible way to milk a buck off the band’s name to the point where you can now buy everything from Kiss tampons to your very own Kiss casket ("Death, I hear you calling…"). Sebastian Bach of Skid Row accurately pointed out recently that the ultimate piece of merchandise for the average Kiss fan right now would be a new Kiss album, but Gene doesn’t seem interested in providing the fans with one of those anytime soon.
Meanwhile (with all due respect to Eric Singer and Tommy Thayer—both fine musicians, indeed), the band itself now looks more like a Kiss tribute band than the real thing. Five years ago, it would have been unfathomable that I would miss a Kiss concert in Kansas City, but they’ve been through here twice since then and I passed both times—it’s just not the same without Ace and Peter, and it’s mostly because of Simmons that they are no longer in the band. Gene’s insatiable ego also manifests itself in other ways, like his lame reality show "Family Jewels", not to mention his arrogant claim to have had sex with 3,000 women (or whatever his current figure is). Give me a break already—if he’d tried to fuck that many women, he’d be dead by now!
Ted and Gene are just two examples, with another being Eddie Van Halen (whom I previously discussed a couple posts back), and I'd even include Danny Bonaduce in that league (although I never really idolized him all that much). I guess it's a testament to my own maturity that I'm not all starry-eyed and blindly worshipping these guys anymore. Still, I can't help but feel betrayed sometimes...
Great Moments In Radio--Volume I
My radio career might’ve been brief, but it yielded more than a fair amount of funny stories, which I’ll share from time to time here.
Back in 1987 at the "Mighty 1030" in Blue Springs, MO, I stumbled across an album in the files one day by Huey "Piano" Smith, who did the original version of "Rockin’ Pnuemonia-Boogie Woogie Flu", which Johnny Rivers later successfully covered in 1972. On the back of the album jacket, someone scrawled a huge note next to that particular track title that read, "DO NOT PLAY—IT SKIPS IN THE WORST POSSIBLE PLACE!!!" So, just for shits and grins, I put the record on the turntable (off the air, of course) and sure enough, midway through the line, "I wanna squeeze her, but I’m way too low…" it skipped. Imagine the horror the poor unsuspecting DJ had to deal with: "I wanna squeeze her but [CLICK]/I wanna squeeze her but [CLICK]/I wanna squeeze her but [CLICK]…"
Former CBS News anchor Dan Rather once told a similar story about when he worked in radio back in the '50s and was playing this religious program that was on a vinyl record. The record got stuck on the last three words of the preacher's sermon where he said something like, "If you fail to do so, you will go to hell," whilst Dan was outside smoking a cigarette or something. Thus, the radio audience was treated to a good five minutes-worth of "Go to hell!" Fumble!!!
Back in 1987 at the "Mighty 1030" in Blue Springs, MO, I stumbled across an album in the files one day by Huey "Piano" Smith, who did the original version of "Rockin’ Pnuemonia-Boogie Woogie Flu", which Johnny Rivers later successfully covered in 1972. On the back of the album jacket, someone scrawled a huge note next to that particular track title that read, "DO NOT PLAY—IT SKIPS IN THE WORST POSSIBLE PLACE!!!" So, just for shits and grins, I put the record on the turntable (off the air, of course) and sure enough, midway through the line, "I wanna squeeze her, but I’m way too low…" it skipped. Imagine the horror the poor unsuspecting DJ had to deal with: "I wanna squeeze her but [CLICK]/I wanna squeeze her but [CLICK]/I wanna squeeze her but [CLICK]…"
Former CBS News anchor Dan Rather once told a similar story about when he worked in radio back in the '50s and was playing this religious program that was on a vinyl record. The record got stuck on the last three words of the preacher's sermon where he said something like, "If you fail to do so, you will go to hell," whilst Dan was outside smoking a cigarette or something. Thus, the radio audience was treated to a good five minutes-worth of "Go to hell!" Fumble!!!
Sunday, January 14, 2007
I'm so damn thankful...
...I don't have to wake up next to either of these creatures on a regular basis! In the words of Fred Sanford: "I'd rather kiss Mighty Joe Young's armpit!" Fuck that--even kissing Meat Loaf's armpit would be a step in the right direction!
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