...is surely bad luck to someone out there...
DON IMUS POST-MORTEM
Just wanted to clarify my position on Dangerous Don here, lest anyone think I'm playing both sides of the fence. I think he deserved to be fired not merely over this one incident, but because he's made a career out of this sort of thing, and the fact that he's an equal-opportunity disher-outer of vitriol is no excuse, either. While I do admit to "piling on" sometimes in situations like this involving people I don't like, I ain't shedding any tears for Imus. He won't be hanging out at the homeless shelter any time soon (he's loaded), and I have no doubt he'll land on his feet somewhere else, just like Marv Albert did. Remember when he had his little scandal a few years back, and everyone thought he'd trashed his career? Well, last time I checked, Marv's still calling NBA games on TBS/TNT, so Imus should have no problem resurrecting his precious career in satellite-land with his buddy Howard Stern.
By the way, I loved what MSNBC replaced Imus with on TV—a two-hour daily discussion of why they dropped him! My suggestion was to run a test pattern in his place and see if anyone noticed the difference...
As for Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson, now that they got what they wanted in the firing of Imus, why don't they turn their attention to their own people who spew out the same kind of racial crap? I'm not just talking about the Rap and Hip/Hop people, either—I'm talking about people like "Boondocks" cartoonist Aaron McGruder. I absolutely LOVED his comic strip with Huey and Riley in the papers—it was timely, top-notch and brilliantly written—but when McGruder got big-headed and converted the strip into an animated series on Cartoon Network, it was a major disappointment to me. There was just too much "nigga"-this and "nigga"-that coming from a 10-year-old's mouth, and after just a few episodes I grew tired of it and stopped watching. C'mon Al and Jesse—let's see you guys bitch about that crap...
BUT WHAT WOULD BRIAN BOITANO DO?
According to U.S. Olympic Ski Team party boy Bode Miller—for whom skiing is more of a hobby than a serious pursuit—he doesn't plan to participate in the 2010 Winter Games because "there's too much emphasis on winning" in the Olympics. Yeah, Bode, all that competition crap is pretty pointless, ain't it? Just go smoke another bong and stop embarrassing us, numb-nuts!
LET'S JUST FIRE EVERYBODY, HUH?
I saw some schmuck on Faux News Channel yesterday morning hawking his campaign to have Rosie O'Donnell removed from "The View" because she "offends ALL Americans" with her remarks. True, Rosie's an idiot, and heaven knows there are numerous people who I'd love to see removed from the public airways (Bill O'Reilly, Pat Robertson, Geraldo Rivera--come on down!), but if we took that attitude and fired every TV personality who offended someone, even Johnny Carson couldn't hold down a TV job if he were alive today. If you don't like this stupid twit, then don't watch her!
THE CONTINUING CRISIS...
Stopped into Dick's Sporting Goods today to look around and stumbled across an assortment of "Texas Hold 'Em" poker tables for sale. Must I repeat myself? POKER IS NOT A SPORT!!! It's no more of a sport than Monopoly or checkers, so why then is it all over ESPN, the sports page in the paper and sporting goods stores? I don't get it...
Speaking of D'sSG, the Colorado Rapids new soccer stadium in Denver is called "Dick's Sporting Goods Park". I couldn't help but wonder if they have signage around the stadium just like the old Dick's Root Beer stand we used to have here in Raytown which read "Parking for Dicks" that omitted the apostrophe in the most inopportune place...
YES WE CAN CAN
Top 15 Yes Tribute Band Names:
1) Yep
2) Hell Yes!
3) Yeah
4) Okey-Dokey
5) Affirmative
6) Sure, Why Not?
7) Yes-indeed-ely-doo!
8) Yepper
9) Aye, Aye
10) We'll See...
11) Fine And Dandy
12) Soitenly!
13) Sho'nuff
14) Aw, What The Hell...
15) Eeeee-Yesss! (featuring Marv Albert and White Sox announcer Hawk Harrelson)
YOUR STARTING LINEUP...
"First Base--Bugs Bunny; Second Base--Bugs Bunny; Third Base--Bugs Bunny; Shortstop--Bugs Bunny; Pitching--Bugs Bunny..."
That's what this tribute the Los Angeles Dodgers are doing tomorrow to honor Jackie Robinson kinda reminds me of. All the players will wear Robinson's #42 for one game in honor of the 60th anniversary of Jackie breaking the color barrier in baseball. Coincidentally, it's also nearly the 13th anniversary of when Major League Baseball sheepishly realized it should start honoring Jackie Robinson for breaking the color barrier in baseball in the wake of Ken Burns' 1994 PBS "Baseball" documentary. No word yet on if all the players will actually change their names to Jackie Robinson for the game too...
Saturday, April 14, 2007
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
Your 411 on 4/11
I AM THE CHAMPIONS! I AM THE CHAMPIONS!
No time for losers, and congrats to me for emerging victorious in my fantasy hockey league on Yahoo! My mighty Johnstown Chiefs made a thrilling comeback in the league finals over the weekend to secure my fourth fantasy sports title in the last five years (two in football, one in baseball). Special thanks to goaltender Niklas Backstrom of the Minnesota Wild for his stellar play and three shutouts in the last two weeks of the season, which wound up being the difference between me winning and losing. We had no championship trophy for our league, but I do have a PCV valve that I never used on my old car—it looks kinda-sorta like a mini-Stanley Cup—so it’ll suffice as the makeshift Holland Cup!
This was also my first go-round as a league commissioner, and it went quite swimmingly. True, I didn’t have the Pacman Joneses and Ron Artests of the world to deal with, but I still think I made a better commish than Bud Selig!
And now we can all kick back and watch the real deal, as the NHL playoffs begin tonight. Let the games begin, and GO DEVILS!
OUR LONG NATIONAL NIGHTMARE IS OVER!
We now know who Anna Nicole Smith’s baby’s father is. Can we now please lay this two-bit whore to rest once and for all?
ONE COOL THING…
…about all this Don Imus hoop-de-doo: It made everyone forget all about Anna Nicole…for about half a day, anyway. Another cool thing about it: I just love watching Imus (in the words of Louie DePalma), "squeal like an eel, and squirm like a worm!" And, oh by the way, MSNBC announced today that they will no longer simulcast "Anus In the Morning" on the tee-vee. So much for my insomnia cure—d'oh!
CLASSIC MISHEARD LYRIC #24
"Trouble Walkin’"—ACE FREHLEY (1989) "I am trouble walkin’." When I first heard this, I thought Space Ace was singing, "I have trouble walking," which in his case, was especially true during the Kiss days trying to navigate around in those platforms. He never quite mastered the Earth’s gravitational pull, and was known to wind up on his keester on-stage a time or two…
JUUUUST A BIT OUTSIDE…OF CLEVELAND
I couldn’t help but note the irony of the Cleveland Indians having to move their series with the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim (By Way of El Segundo) to Milwaukee’s Miller Park this week, being’s how Milwaukee was "home" to the Cleveland Indians in the film Major League. Cleveland’s Municipal Stadium was a great old ballpark, but was apparently a lousy actor, so old County Stadium in Milwaukee—which was right next door to Miller Park—stood in for it. Evidently, Cleveland’s current ballpark, Jacobs Field, couldn’t act either, since Baltimore’s Camden Yards starred in the sequel Major League 2. So far so good for the current Tribe, as they won last night 7-6 in their "home away from home", and they didn’t even need Charlie Sheen, Tom Berenger or the dude that played Pedro Cerrano who now lectures us in those dumbass Allstate commercials...
Speaking of Miller Park, it’s too bad that more corporate names on stadiums and arenas aren’t as simple as this one, or say Wrigley Field, Philips Arena or Busch Stadium. Those at least still sound like they were named after a person, unlike these ludicrous monikers like M&T Bank Stadium, National Car Rental Center and Quicken Loans Arena. Even Target Center, United Center, Qwest Field and our new Sprint Center don’t sound nearly as heinous as crap like Networks Associates Coliseum. And you know it's only a matter of time before they name some poor stadium after a law firm—can't you just picture "Dewey, Cheatem & Howe Park"?
No time for losers, and congrats to me for emerging victorious in my fantasy hockey league on Yahoo! My mighty Johnstown Chiefs made a thrilling comeback in the league finals over the weekend to secure my fourth fantasy sports title in the last five years (two in football, one in baseball). Special thanks to goaltender Niklas Backstrom of the Minnesota Wild for his stellar play and three shutouts in the last two weeks of the season, which wound up being the difference between me winning and losing. We had no championship trophy for our league, but I do have a PCV valve that I never used on my old car—it looks kinda-sorta like a mini-Stanley Cup—so it’ll suffice as the makeshift Holland Cup!
This was also my first go-round as a league commissioner, and it went quite swimmingly. True, I didn’t have the Pacman Joneses and Ron Artests of the world to deal with, but I still think I made a better commish than Bud Selig!
And now we can all kick back and watch the real deal, as the NHL playoffs begin tonight. Let the games begin, and GO DEVILS!
OUR LONG NATIONAL NIGHTMARE IS OVER!
We now know who Anna Nicole Smith’s baby’s father is. Can we now please lay this two-bit whore to rest once and for all?
ONE COOL THING…
…about all this Don Imus hoop-de-doo: It made everyone forget all about Anna Nicole…for about half a day, anyway. Another cool thing about it: I just love watching Imus (in the words of Louie DePalma), "squeal like an eel, and squirm like a worm!" And, oh by the way, MSNBC announced today that they will no longer simulcast "Anus In the Morning" on the tee-vee. So much for my insomnia cure—d'oh!
CLASSIC MISHEARD LYRIC #24
"Trouble Walkin’"—ACE FREHLEY (1989) "I am trouble walkin’." When I first heard this, I thought Space Ace was singing, "I have trouble walking," which in his case, was especially true during the Kiss days trying to navigate around in those platforms. He never quite mastered the Earth’s gravitational pull, and was known to wind up on his keester on-stage a time or two…
JUUUUST A BIT OUTSIDE…OF CLEVELAND
I couldn’t help but note the irony of the Cleveland Indians having to move their series with the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim (By Way of El Segundo) to Milwaukee’s Miller Park this week, being’s how Milwaukee was "home" to the Cleveland Indians in the film Major League. Cleveland’s Municipal Stadium was a great old ballpark, but was apparently a lousy actor, so old County Stadium in Milwaukee—which was right next door to Miller Park—stood in for it. Evidently, Cleveland’s current ballpark, Jacobs Field, couldn’t act either, since Baltimore’s Camden Yards starred in the sequel Major League 2. So far so good for the current Tribe, as they won last night 7-6 in their "home away from home", and they didn’t even need Charlie Sheen, Tom Berenger or the dude that played Pedro Cerrano who now lectures us in those dumbass Allstate commercials...
Speaking of Miller Park, it’s too bad that more corporate names on stadiums and arenas aren’t as simple as this one, or say Wrigley Field, Philips Arena or Busch Stadium. Those at least still sound like they were named after a person, unlike these ludicrous monikers like M&T Bank Stadium, National Car Rental Center and Quicken Loans Arena. Even Target Center, United Center, Qwest Field and our new Sprint Center don’t sound nearly as heinous as crap like Networks Associates Coliseum. And you know it's only a matter of time before they name some poor stadium after a law firm—can't you just picture "Dewey, Cheatem & Howe Park"?
What Might Have Been, Vol. III
Another installment in my little ongoing anthology of TV and movie castings that did and didn't happen, thus altering popular history in unfathomable ways:
- Shirley Temple was considered for Dorothy in The Wizard Of Oz, but 20th Century-Fox wouldn’t loan her to M.G.M., and Judy Garland was their first choice anyway. Shirley also auditioned for "The Little Rascals" twice and was turned down.
- Rob Lowe lost out to Billy Zane in Titanic for the role of Cal, thus couldn't be called an "unspeakable bastard"—at least not that time...
- Reba McEntire was actually considered for the role of "unsinkable" Molly Brown in Titanic, but touring commitments prevented her from taking it. Cathy Bates wound up with the role.
- Hal Linden of "Barney Miller" was offered and turned down the lead role on "St. Elsewhere".
- James Caan passed up plum roles in both the M*A*S*H movie and Apocalypse Now, and was also considered for Han Solo in Star Wars. Come to think of it, it would probably be quicker to list the actors who WEREN’T considered for Han Solo.
- Nancy McKeon of "Facts Of Life" fame was once considered for Monica on "Friends". They made the wise choice on that one, I think.
- Oprah Winfrey’s first name was actually supposed to be "Orpah", but someone screwed it up on her birth certificate, and the name stuck.
- Actor Dennis Quaid was turned down for the role of Luke Duke on "The Dukes of Hazzard", as was Gerald McRaney. Both actors are no doubt eternally grateful…
Monday, April 9, 2007
Anus In The Morning
Since this is the hot-button topic of the day, here's my .02-worth on the Don Imus flap and his ignorant remarks about the Rutgers chick basketball team, who lost to Tennessee last week, where he referred to them as "nappy headed hos" on his "Imus In The Morning" radio/TV show, for which he's been suspended for two weeks, beginning next Monday:
Granted, Imus is a frequent target of my verbal bazooka in this here space because he's a crashing bore and an acerbic jerk with all the personality of a ball-peen hammer—obviously, I don't like Imus to begin with, so I admit to being biased here. BUUUT—all that being said, I had no idea this schlub was a complete and total moron, too! Sure, I can see how somebody might say some stupid shit like that when sitting around the bar surrounded by their buddies after tossing down a few (hell, I'm guilty of it myself), but how fucking dumb do ya gotta be to say something like that on a national radio/TV show that bears your own name? If I'd have said shit like this when I was DJ, they'd have jettisoned me the nanosecond I uttered it! What I don't get is why his suspension doesn't kick in until next week, but, for whatever reason, D.I. gets four more days to impersonate a dead man on the air in the interim. I also find it ironic that all this time (even before this colossal brain fart), Imus claims that his show has been attempting to do comedy! Evidently, I never received that memo, because his show was/is about as funny as Alzheimer's Disease...
It feels strange to me to actually side with a phony grandstander like Rev. Al Sharpton, but in this case I think he's right and Imus should be fired. And while it's true that every other Rap/Hip-Hop artist (and their mother) uses the term "ho" ad nauseam, I don't think there's a double-standard here because Sharpton has spoken out against the Rap/Hip-Hop community using terms like that about women, but that rarely gets publicized. None of that excuses Mr. Imus' behavior here, anyway—I'm sorry, but a guy who's been on the air as long as he has oughtta know better! Furthermore, Imus' show has a history of this kind of crap anyway. A vaunted member of his cast of characters, Sid Rosenberg, was removed from the show last year after ignorant cracks he made about singer Kylie Minogue’s bout with breast cancer (can you please explain to me where on earth you find humor in ANYONE having cancer?), and Imus himself also once admitted to hiring someone to write "nigger" jokes for him in a "60 Minutes" interview some years ago.
By the way, Imus should avoid sports topics altogether in the future, because he constantly displays his ignorance—this is the same guy who had to ask during Super Bowl week if Johnny Unitas was still alive. If and when they do fire him, Imus can take the rest of his cronies, apologists and yes-men with him, especially that bozo on his show that does the lame Bill Clinton impressions. Hey bud, Slick Willie wasn’t all that funny to impersonate even back when he was President, and doing him now is sooo '90s!
Feel free to challenge me on this topic—I'd enjoy some good give-and-take on it.
Granted, Imus is a frequent target of my verbal bazooka in this here space because he's a crashing bore and an acerbic jerk with all the personality of a ball-peen hammer—obviously, I don't like Imus to begin with, so I admit to being biased here. BUUUT—all that being said, I had no idea this schlub was a complete and total moron, too! Sure, I can see how somebody might say some stupid shit like that when sitting around the bar surrounded by their buddies after tossing down a few (hell, I'm guilty of it myself), but how fucking dumb do ya gotta be to say something like that on a national radio/TV show that bears your own name? If I'd have said shit like this when I was DJ, they'd have jettisoned me the nanosecond I uttered it! What I don't get is why his suspension doesn't kick in until next week, but, for whatever reason, D.I. gets four more days to impersonate a dead man on the air in the interim. I also find it ironic that all this time (even before this colossal brain fart), Imus claims that his show has been attempting to do comedy! Evidently, I never received that memo, because his show was/is about as funny as Alzheimer's Disease...
It feels strange to me to actually side with a phony grandstander like Rev. Al Sharpton, but in this case I think he's right and Imus should be fired. And while it's true that every other Rap/Hip-Hop artist (and their mother) uses the term "ho" ad nauseam, I don't think there's a double-standard here because Sharpton has spoken out against the Rap/Hip-Hop community using terms like that about women, but that rarely gets publicized. None of that excuses Mr. Imus' behavior here, anyway—I'm sorry, but a guy who's been on the air as long as he has oughtta know better! Furthermore, Imus' show has a history of this kind of crap anyway. A vaunted member of his cast of characters, Sid Rosenberg, was removed from the show last year after ignorant cracks he made about singer Kylie Minogue’s bout with breast cancer (can you please explain to me where on earth you find humor in ANYONE having cancer?), and Imus himself also once admitted to hiring someone to write "nigger" jokes for him in a "60 Minutes" interview some years ago.
By the way, Imus should avoid sports topics altogether in the future, because he constantly displays his ignorance—this is the same guy who had to ask during Super Bowl week if Johnny Unitas was still alive. If and when they do fire him, Imus can take the rest of his cronies, apologists and yes-men with him, especially that bozo on his show that does the lame Bill Clinton impressions. Hey bud, Slick Willie wasn’t all that funny to impersonate even back when he was President, and doing him now is sooo '90s!
Feel free to challenge me on this topic—I'd enjoy some good give-and-take on it.
Sunday, April 8, 2007
King Biscuit rides again!
Well, lookie what I found! If you are a fan of live concert recordings from back in the day, I hereby direct you to the Concert Vault of the legendary "King Biscuit Flower Hour" (I always thought it was "Flour"!), which was a nationally-syndicated radio show that used to air here on the old KY-102 every Sunday night and featured great live recordings from just about every major band. KBFH has put some of those shows out on CD over the years (I have Billy Squier, John Entwistle, The Romantics and Foghat in my collection, for instance), and now they have archived nearly 400 concerts from the '60s through the '90s that you can listen to online. It doesn't cost a thing—you just have to register and log in—and they continue to add more shows to the archive, plus downloads will apparently be available (for a fee) soon.
In many cases, these aren't merely the 60-minute over-the-air broadcasts, but FULL-length concerts that are available here, so there's tons of stuff to enjoy that was never aired (all uncensored too). There's some incredible vintage stuff, too—like two very early Who shows from the Fillmore West in 1968 and '69, plus some early Led Zeppelin from that same era, as well as some prehistoric Jefferson Airplane shows from 1966. I found several shows I remember listening to and taping off the radio way back when, like Kiss from early 1984 during the misbegotten Vinnie Vincent era, and a really good one of Ozzy Osbourne with the late Randy Rhoads on guitar from '81. You will also find some very early Stevie Ray Vaughan from one of his first tours, and a very interesting early Elton John gig that was recorded just five days before the show he did that would become his first official live album, 11-17-70 (or 17-11-70 to our friends on the other side of the big pond). I even found a 1985 Roger Daltrey concert I wasn't even aware existed.
Some of the older recordings from the '60s are a bit iffy in places, with a fair amount of snap, crackle and pop, but overall the sound quality is quite good on most of these recordings. I feel like I have a new toy to play with here...
Bless the Biscuit!
In many cases, these aren't merely the 60-minute over-the-air broadcasts, but FULL-length concerts that are available here, so there's tons of stuff to enjoy that was never aired (all uncensored too). There's some incredible vintage stuff, too—like two very early Who shows from the Fillmore West in 1968 and '69, plus some early Led Zeppelin from that same era, as well as some prehistoric Jefferson Airplane shows from 1966. I found several shows I remember listening to and taping off the radio way back when, like Kiss from early 1984 during the misbegotten Vinnie Vincent era, and a really good one of Ozzy Osbourne with the late Randy Rhoads on guitar from '81. You will also find some very early Stevie Ray Vaughan from one of his first tours, and a very interesting early Elton John gig that was recorded just five days before the show he did that would become his first official live album, 11-17-70 (or 17-11-70 to our friends on the other side of the big pond). I even found a 1985 Roger Daltrey concert I wasn't even aware existed.
Some of the older recordings from the '60s are a bit iffy in places, with a fair amount of snap, crackle and pop, but overall the sound quality is quite good on most of these recordings. I feel like I have a new toy to play with here...
Bless the Biscuit!
Saturday, April 7, 2007
Mark St. John, 1956-2007
I was very saddened to learn of the death of former Kiss guitarist Mark St. John on Thursday of a cerebral hemorrhage. Mark had the proverbial "cup of coffee" with the band, playing on only one album (1984's Animalize). I always thought of him as sort of the George Lazenby of Rock 'N' Roll (that's the actor who played James Bond in just one .007 film, in between Sean Connery and Roger Moore).I'd like to point out here that I just wrote more about Mark's death above than Kiss did on their very own super-duper official website—they could only manage two predictable and very bland sentences. Way to go, Gene and Paul...
St. John (nee Norton) replaced Vinnie Vincent after the 1983-84 Lick It Up tour, and had problems almost from the get-go. Apparently he clashed with Simmons and Stanley in musical terms, and then he came down with the rare medical condition Reiter's Syndrome which caused his wrists to swell up and limited his ability to play guitar. The band brought in Bruce Kulick to fill in for him on tour on an interim basis, but St. John was only able to perform at three shows (and only completed one of those) before Kulick was made a permanent member of the band. It's hard to gauge how good a guitar player Mark really was since his tenure with the band was so brief—he was no Ace Frehley, but then again he was light years better than Vinnie Vincent—and he sure didn't suck on Animalize, either. You certainly hear more of him on that album than Gene Simmons, who too busy off in La La Land making movies to give a rat's spleen about making records at that time (Paul Stanley and Jean Beauvior of the Plasmatics played most of his bass parts). I've read more than one account where Simmons basically fucked St. John over after he left the band too, refusing to help pay for his medical bills and such. You're a real peach, Gene...I don't suppose you could at least spare Mark one of your Kiss caskets now, could you?
Mark St. John was one of two members of Kiss who never wore their trademark make-up (his replacement Bruce Kulick being the other), and ironically he wound up working with drummer Peter Criss in another band in the '90s. Beyond that, I really don't know all that much about him—a case of "we hardly knew ya" in Rock 'N' Roll, you might say.
Rest in peace, Mark.
It's Easter Eve--Lay (or break) An Egg!
THE HOUSE IS ROCKIN' (AGAIN!)
I decided after nearly 25 years, it was time to upgrade my stereo system, so I bought a new amplifier and some new speakers this weekend. Believe it or not, all these years I've been using a 1979 Technics amplifier that I bought from my good friend Tom in 1984, and it STILL works! But my 1991 Technics speakers were starting to sound pretty ratty, and I decided to replace them and the amp for around $250, so I headed for Best Buy armed with my $100 gift card that I got for Xmas, so thank you, Tom, for the free speakers! T he bass is a lot punchier now on this new rascal too, and it sounds so sweet! It's only Rock 'N' Roll...
A WRONG HAS BEEN RIGHTED...
Speaking of Rock 'N' Roll, I picked up the new remastered ZZ Top CDs Tres Hombres and Fandango! and they sound awesome in their original splendor. You see, ZZT pissed me off when they put their older stuff out on CD back in the '80s by remixing their songs and fucking them up big-time. You can hear the difference on the radio now and then on "Tush" and "La Grange" when they play these crappy remixes—there's more echo, the drums are fatter—and in some cases, they even added new vocals and guitar licks to these old recordings, which is pure heresy, in my humble opinion. I hate it when bands fuck with the integrity of their own music—Kiss did the same thing on Smashes, Thrashes & Hits by screwing with the original tracks and having Eric Carr singing "Beth", etc. Those '80s ZZ Top CD releases of their '70s stuff should have been labeled "remix" to warn the buyer, but common sense has prevailed and they've re-issued these two LPs as they were originally recorded—it's nice to hear tracks like "Mexican Blackbird", "Move Me On Down The Line", et al, on CD as they should sound! Hopefully, they will follow suit and issue Tejas, Rio Grande Mud and First Album properly on CD as well.
YOU WANTED THE FACELIFT, YOU GOT THE FACELIFT
Wow, Gene, did you get a tummy tuck and boob job too? Should we now call you "Genie" Simmons? And to think I used to idolize this man! Gene now makes Joe Jackson look like Richard Gere in comparison, but that being said, he’s still a damn sight prettier than Joan Rivers (and her ugly-ass daughter)!
Speaking of Joe Jackson, I still find myself repeating Gallagher’s burning question from back in the ‘80s: "Does he HAVE to be in his videos?"
OKAY, EXPLAIN THIS GLOBAL WARMING THING TO ME AGAIN, MR. GORE…
They were snowed out in Cleveland last night and today, the Detroit Tigers game was colded-out the other day, we had a record low temp. here last night, and it's colder than a well-digger’s butt outside right now. Oh, need I remind everyone that it’s now early April?!? Feels like friggin’ February to me…
B.F.D., MR. K!
I’m having a little trouble understanding all the hysteria surrounding Boston Red Sox pitcher "Dice K" or "Special K" or whatever they call him. Why are there like eleventy million Japanese journalists following him around hanging on his every word? The Royals had to issue more press credentials for Thursday’s game than they did for the 1985 World Series, but I don’t see what the big deal is. Yes, he seems to be a pretty decent pitcher, but it’s not like this is a new phenomenon—there have been other pretty decent pitchers from the Far East, like Hideki Erabu (sp?), Hideo Homo and Bung-hole Kim (or whatever his name is), et al. This som-bitch surely ain’t worth no $100 million, or whatever Boston shelled out for him, and I hope Sox fans don’t mind paying through the nose for tickets for the next 50 years to pay for this goober…
Just as an aside, when I was a little kid, I thought Japanese people were called "Japanesians"! I just assumed that all nationalities ended in "ians"...
I decided after nearly 25 years, it was time to upgrade my stereo system, so I bought a new amplifier and some new speakers this weekend. Believe it or not, all these years I've been using a 1979 Technics amplifier that I bought from my good friend Tom in 1984, and it STILL works! But my 1991 Technics speakers were starting to sound pretty ratty, and I decided to replace them and the amp for around $250, so I headed for Best Buy armed with my $100 gift card that I got for Xmas, so thank you, Tom, for the free speakers! T he bass is a lot punchier now on this new rascal too, and it sounds so sweet! It's only Rock 'N' Roll...
A WRONG HAS BEEN RIGHTED...
Speaking of Rock 'N' Roll, I picked up the new remastered ZZ Top CDs Tres Hombres and Fandango! and they sound awesome in their original splendor. You see, ZZT pissed me off when they put their older stuff out on CD back in the '80s by remixing their songs and fucking them up big-time. You can hear the difference on the radio now and then on "Tush" and "La Grange" when they play these crappy remixes—there's more echo, the drums are fatter—and in some cases, they even added new vocals and guitar licks to these old recordings, which is pure heresy, in my humble opinion. I hate it when bands fuck with the integrity of their own music—Kiss did the same thing on Smashes, Thrashes & Hits by screwing with the original tracks and having Eric Carr singing "Beth", etc. Those '80s ZZ Top CD releases of their '70s stuff should have been labeled "remix" to warn the buyer, but common sense has prevailed and they've re-issued these two LPs as they were originally recorded—it's nice to hear tracks like "Mexican Blackbird", "Move Me On Down The Line", et al, on CD as they should sound! Hopefully, they will follow suit and issue Tejas, Rio Grande Mud and First Album properly on CD as well.
YOU WANTED THE FACELIFT, YOU GOT THE FACELIFT
Wow, Gene, did you get a tummy tuck and boob job too? Should we now call you "Genie" Simmons? And to think I used to idolize this man! Gene now makes Joe Jackson look like Richard Gere in comparison, but that being said, he’s still a damn sight prettier than Joan Rivers (and her ugly-ass daughter)!Speaking of Joe Jackson, I still find myself repeating Gallagher’s burning question from back in the ‘80s: "Does he HAVE to be in his videos?"
OKAY, EXPLAIN THIS GLOBAL WARMING THING TO ME AGAIN, MR. GORE…
They were snowed out in Cleveland last night and today, the Detroit Tigers game was colded-out the other day, we had a record low temp. here last night, and it's colder than a well-digger’s butt outside right now. Oh, need I remind everyone that it’s now early April?!? Feels like friggin’ February to me…
B.F.D., MR. K!
I’m having a little trouble understanding all the hysteria surrounding Boston Red Sox pitcher "Dice K" or "Special K" or whatever they call him. Why are there like eleventy million Japanese journalists following him around hanging on his every word? The Royals had to issue more press credentials for Thursday’s game than they did for the 1985 World Series, but I don’t see what the big deal is. Yes, he seems to be a pretty decent pitcher, but it’s not like this is a new phenomenon—there have been other pretty decent pitchers from the Far East, like Hideki Erabu (sp?), Hideo Homo and Bung-hole Kim (or whatever his name is), et al. This som-bitch surely ain’t worth no $100 million, or whatever Boston shelled out for him, and I hope Sox fans don’t mind paying through the nose for tickets for the next 50 years to pay for this goober…
Just as an aside, when I was a little kid, I thought Japanese people were called "Japanesians"! I just assumed that all nationalities ended in "ians"...
Thursday, April 5, 2007
Separated at birth?
Is it just me, or does the sausage on the far left not bear a striking resemblance to this guy?
More stuff
DARRYL STINGLEY, 1951-2007
Former New England Patriots player Darryl Stingley died today at age 55. He was a rising young star at wide receiver and was tragically paralyzed during a preseason game in 1978 in Oakland when he was hit by Jack Tatum of the Raiders and remained a quadriplegic the rest of his life. One of the coolest moments you’ll ever see at a sporting event happened during a "Monday Night Football" game between the Patriots and Steelers in Foxboro in 1979 when Stingley made his first public appearance after the accident. When the public address announcer acknowledged him, the entire crowd plus both teams turned to face him sitting up in the press box and gave him a long ovation in a beautiful outpouring of support. It was a very touching scene, and even Howard Cosell seemed moved by it all. R.I.P, Darryl.
EDDIE ROBINSON, 1919-2007
Longtime Grambling State football coaching legend Eddie Robinson also died this week. I remember back when I was about seven or eight, they used to replay the Grambling games on TV every Sunday morning before the NFL games came on, condensing the game broadcast from the previous day down to an hour, so I became very familiar with his work at an early age. He also coached one of my favorite Chiefs players of all-time, the late Buck Buchanan. The man coached for 57 years, won 408 games, and ran a clean program, to boot. A class act, indeed. R.I.P., Coach Rob.
ON THE OTHER HAND...
One coach who is NOT a class act is Bob Huggins, who is bolting the Kansas State basketball team for West Virgina—oops, Virginia—after just one season in the "Little Apple". While I don't care all that much for K-State, I think this stinks for them, after all the momentum they'd built up this season under Huggins. He has a checkered past, but I was giving him the benefit of the doubt before this because it was good to see this program be competitive in the Big 12 again, but now I see him for the horse's ass he really is—I don't care if WVU is his alma mater, either. Same goes for these other nomadic coaching mercenaries who keep hopping from school to school for more money. Don't these guys have contracts to honor?
UNFATHOMABLE!
I astounded myself today by actually making it all the way to the end of a column written by conservative pundit Jonah Goldberg in the newspaper, and even more amazingly, I actually agreed with it! I think I may have a hormonal imbalance or something, because I normally can’t stand this putz. Believe it or not, I actually do read conservative columnists on a regular basis, like Kathleen Parker, Charles Krauthammer and George Will, and I at least TRY to listen to what the right-wingers have to say, even though I still disagree with a lot of it—now how’s that for fair and balanced?
In Goldberg’s case, I usually wind up tuning him out about three paragraphs into his columns, but I went the distance for the first time ever in his column about windbag Rosie O’Donnell’s idiotic comments about Iran, 9/11, et al, on "The View" last week. I thought that vapid show was supposed to cater to the Martha Stewart crowd anyway—since when did it suddenly morph into "Face The Nation"? Please don’t misunderstand me—I’m not trying to sound sexist and say that a woman’s opinion doesn’t matter, or that she shouldn’t be outspoken. My issue here lies more with credibility, and to me, Rosie has very little in the political realm. To me, her wacked-out comments were almost as asinine, in their own way, as those of the very wrong Revs. Jerry Falwell and Pat Robertson in the aftermath of 9/11, claiming that we (as a country) had it coming to us because of all "the pagans and the abortionists and the feminists and the gays and the lesbians, the ACLU," et al "trying to secularize America".
And what is Rosie, anyway? A mediocre stand-up comedian/actress and former daytime talk show host whose main claim to fame is merely being a lightning rod for controversy. Rosie is to politics what the proverbial armchair quarterback is to football. She has opinions, just as I do, but that hardly makes either of us political experts. And not unlike her polar opposite Ann Coulter, she’ll say outrageous crap like this because she’s so desperate to keep her name in the papers. So, like I said to Ann a while back, put a sock in it, Rosie!
Now, if and when I ever make it all the way through one of that wing-nut Michelle Malkin’s columns, then you’ll know for sure that I’ve gone over to the Dark Side!
AND KATRINA WENT TO NUMBER 1…
Will these stupid countdown shows ever stop? Now even The Weather Channel is getting in on the act with their upcoming "Top 100 Weather Moments". I’m growing really weary of this genre of TV show, with the likes of "Top 100 Celebrity Oops", "Top 100 Botched Celebrity Boob Jobs" (Jenny Jones was #1 there, I think), etc., which I like to call "Drive-by TV". These travesties are nothing more than cheaply-produced collections of video clips and snarky commentary from the same ten hack comedian wanna-be’s and/or D-list celebrities making inane remarks throughout these pointless countdowns, and they’re basically just an excuse to recycle old video footage and re-hash old controversies, etc. And a weather countdown? What are they going to rate, which tornado was everyone’s favorite? Which ice storm caused the longest power outages? Between this crap and their fear-mongering doomsday programs like "It Could Happen Tomorrow" and "Storm Stories", I long for the simpler times not so long ago when TWC just did the weather 24/7 and I would lust after my favorite weather girl Kristina Abernathy on the days when she wore short skirts...
Former New England Patriots player Darryl Stingley died today at age 55. He was a rising young star at wide receiver and was tragically paralyzed during a preseason game in 1978 in Oakland when he was hit by Jack Tatum of the Raiders and remained a quadriplegic the rest of his life. One of the coolest moments you’ll ever see at a sporting event happened during a "Monday Night Football" game between the Patriots and Steelers in Foxboro in 1979 when Stingley made his first public appearance after the accident. When the public address announcer acknowledged him, the entire crowd plus both teams turned to face him sitting up in the press box and gave him a long ovation in a beautiful outpouring of support. It was a very touching scene, and even Howard Cosell seemed moved by it all. R.I.P, Darryl.
EDDIE ROBINSON, 1919-2007
Longtime Grambling State football coaching legend Eddie Robinson also died this week. I remember back when I was about seven or eight, they used to replay the Grambling games on TV every Sunday morning before the NFL games came on, condensing the game broadcast from the previous day down to an hour, so I became very familiar with his work at an early age. He also coached one of my favorite Chiefs players of all-time, the late Buck Buchanan. The man coached for 57 years, won 408 games, and ran a clean program, to boot. A class act, indeed. R.I.P., Coach Rob.
ON THE OTHER HAND...
One coach who is NOT a class act is Bob Huggins, who is bolting the Kansas State basketball team for West Virgina—oops, Virginia—after just one season in the "Little Apple". While I don't care all that much for K-State, I think this stinks for them, after all the momentum they'd built up this season under Huggins. He has a checkered past, but I was giving him the benefit of the doubt before this because it was good to see this program be competitive in the Big 12 again, but now I see him for the horse's ass he really is—I don't care if WVU is his alma mater, either. Same goes for these other nomadic coaching mercenaries who keep hopping from school to school for more money. Don't these guys have contracts to honor?
UNFATHOMABLE!
I astounded myself today by actually making it all the way to the end of a column written by conservative pundit Jonah Goldberg in the newspaper, and even more amazingly, I actually agreed with it! I think I may have a hormonal imbalance or something, because I normally can’t stand this putz. Believe it or not, I actually do read conservative columnists on a regular basis, like Kathleen Parker, Charles Krauthammer and George Will, and I at least TRY to listen to what the right-wingers have to say, even though I still disagree with a lot of it—now how’s that for fair and balanced?
In Goldberg’s case, I usually wind up tuning him out about three paragraphs into his columns, but I went the distance for the first time ever in his column about windbag Rosie O’Donnell’s idiotic comments about Iran, 9/11, et al, on "The View" last week. I thought that vapid show was supposed to cater to the Martha Stewart crowd anyway—since when did it suddenly morph into "Face The Nation"? Please don’t misunderstand me—I’m not trying to sound sexist and say that a woman’s opinion doesn’t matter, or that she shouldn’t be outspoken. My issue here lies more with credibility, and to me, Rosie has very little in the political realm. To me, her wacked-out comments were almost as asinine, in their own way, as those of the very wrong Revs. Jerry Falwell and Pat Robertson in the aftermath of 9/11, claiming that we (as a country) had it coming to us because of all "the pagans and the abortionists and the feminists and the gays and the lesbians, the ACLU," et al "trying to secularize America".
And what is Rosie, anyway? A mediocre stand-up comedian/actress and former daytime talk show host whose main claim to fame is merely being a lightning rod for controversy. Rosie is to politics what the proverbial armchair quarterback is to football. She has opinions, just as I do, but that hardly makes either of us political experts. And not unlike her polar opposite Ann Coulter, she’ll say outrageous crap like this because she’s so desperate to keep her name in the papers. So, like I said to Ann a while back, put a sock in it, Rosie!
Now, if and when I ever make it all the way through one of that wing-nut Michelle Malkin’s columns, then you’ll know for sure that I’ve gone over to the Dark Side!
AND KATRINA WENT TO NUMBER 1…
Will these stupid countdown shows ever stop? Now even The Weather Channel is getting in on the act with their upcoming "Top 100 Weather Moments". I’m growing really weary of this genre of TV show, with the likes of "Top 100 Celebrity Oops", "Top 100 Botched Celebrity Boob Jobs" (Jenny Jones was #1 there, I think), etc., which I like to call "Drive-by TV". These travesties are nothing more than cheaply-produced collections of video clips and snarky commentary from the same ten hack comedian wanna-be’s and/or D-list celebrities making inane remarks throughout these pointless countdowns, and they’re basically just an excuse to recycle old video footage and re-hash old controversies, etc. And a weather countdown? What are they going to rate, which tornado was everyone’s favorite? Which ice storm caused the longest power outages? Between this crap and their fear-mongering doomsday programs like "It Could Happen Tomorrow" and "Storm Stories", I long for the simpler times not so long ago when TWC just did the weather 24/7 and I would lust after my favorite weather girl Kristina Abernathy on the days when she wore short skirts...
Wednesday, April 4, 2007
Let it rain!
Time to praise what is probably the finest Rock band Kansas City has ever produced, The Rainmakers. They were all excellent musicians and this band was blessed a brilliant songwriter, plus they were an outstanding live act, to boot. They started off as the trio Steve, Bob & Rich (Steve Phillips—lead guitar; Bob Walkenhorst—vocals and snare drum; Rich Ruth—bass), but when they signed with Mercury Records in the mid-'80s, they added drummer Pat Tomek (that's him wearing the specs in this photo, along with Steve, Bob and Rich, left to right, naturally), and frontman Walkenhorst switched to rhythm guitar. I often compare this band to R.E.M. because these guys SHOULD have been every bit as big as R.E.M. is, and they appealed to more or less the same audience as R.E.M. does. Sadly, Mercury/Polygram failed to support this band at all, thus they never attained the heights that their Georgia rivals did, despite that fact that The Rainmakers would blow R.E.M. off ANY stage, and Bob Walkenhorst is a far more prolific songwriter than the overly-serious Michael Stipe. BW's writing style is steeped more in humor, yet with a social conscience, all the same, and these guys were a bit edgier than the rather wimpy band that was recently inducted into the Rock 'N' Roll Hall of Fame. Sorry to break this to you, R.E.M. fans—Da Rainmakers are a helluva lot more fun to listen to!
Their most famous song is arguably "Let My People Go-Go", off their first album in 1986, which even garnered some airplay on MTV back in the day, as did "Downstream" from the same LP. Trust me, there's much much more to this band, and here's just a brief sampling of Bob Walkenhorst's witty and insightful lyrics:
—"If heaven is guilt, no sex and no show, then I'm not sure that I really wanna go..." (from "The Wages Of Sin")
—"You can still see the ghosts, but you can't see the sense--why they let the monkey go, and blamed the monkey wrench..." (from "Rockin' At The T-Dance")
—"...and if you've ever seen that L.A. scene, man, you know it ain't no Jan & Dean..." (from "Snakedance")
—"...we make love to people that we don't even like..." (from "Small Circles")
—"Well, we picked up Harry Truman floatin' down from Independence...we said 'What about The Bomb--are you sorry that you did it?'...he said, 'pass me that bottle and mind yer own bidness..." (from "Downstream")
And my personal favorite:—"The generation that would change the world is still looking for its car keys..." (from "Drinkin' On The Job")
One little oddity about this band was/is their popularity in Scandinavia, of all places. There was a time during the '90s when my good friend The Swedish Chef had easier access to Rainmakers CDs than yours truly did right here in the ol' heartland! Their live CD Oslo-Wichita was partially recorded in the capital of Norway, too.
My top five Rainmakers tunes:
1) "Big Fat Blonde" (1986) It's sexist as all get-out, but I love it, anyway!
2) "Tornado of Love" (1987) I haven't been in one of these in about eight years, but I'm itching to do it again...
3) "Rockin' At The T-Dance" (1986) Thinly-veiled tune about the 1981 K.C. Hyatt Hotel skywalks tragedy.
4) "Reckoning Day" (1989) All-purpose rant song about most anything that chafes your hiney...
5) "Snakedance" (1987) "Show these folks a good time," indeed!
Long live Steve, Bob & Rich (& Pat), and screw R.E.M.!
It's Salisbury Steak day!
Well, surely it is at SOME elementary school out there, one would think...
SO FUNNY I FORGOT TO LAUGH
Your Vice-President poked fun at Dubya’s relationship with the White House press corps last week. "Funny Man Dick" said, "The president is really sorry he couldn’t be here tonight, but he had other obligations…his book club is meeting." [Place rim shot here] Don’t quit your day job, Dickie—I have no doubt that just like Swingin' Steven Hauk in Good Morning, Vietnam, you have avowed, "In my heart, I know I'm funny," but trust me, Dick, I know funny, and you ain't it! On second thought, please DO quit your day job—we’d all be a lot better off for it.
And come to think of it, that book club story might be true—it took him five and a half years, but ol’ Dubya finally finished reading that book about the goat…
MR. POT, MEET MR. KETTLE—YOU’RE BLACK!
Speaking of your President, Dubya was bitching up a storm yesterday over House Speaker Nancy Pelosi’s visit to Syria, calling it a "photo-op". That may or may not be true, but you sure are one to talk, Mr. "Heckuva job, Brownie"…
CLASSIC MISHEARD LYRIC #23
"Roxanne"—THE POLICE (1979) "You don’t have to put on the red light." Another co-worker submission here—apparently her young son thought Sting was saying "You don’t have to stop at the red light." Yes, kid, I’m afraid you do…
EBERT AND SIR RANT-A-LOT?
It was movie night at the ol' homestead here last night, and it wound up being a decent double-feature. First off, I watched The Holiday starring Cameron Diaz and my girl Kate Winslet. Not too bad for a chick flick, although the story was pretty implausible and I didn’t enjoy the storyline surrounding Diaz’s character half as much as Winslet’s. For some reason, I have trouble getting into Cameron Diaz, even though she has gorgeous blue eyes—I know she’s everyone’s favorite movie hottie and all, but skinny blondes like her just don’t turn me on (apart from Renee Zellweger, that is, and even then, I like her better at her Bridget Jones size). On the other hand, Kate Winslet is more my type, although I MUCH prefer her as a redhead. Getting back to the film itself, I thought Jack Black was quite good here, playing a Chandler Bing-like character. And thanks to this film, I now finally know what actor Eli Wallach looks like after years of him being nothing more than a crossword puzzle answer to me!
Part two of my double feature was Rocky Balboa, and I have to say the rumors are true—this was actually a good movie! If you like the Rocky film series at all, you’ll love this one. True, Rocky V sucked (anything involving that mongoloid Tommy Morrison is doomed to suck), and I had my doubts going into this one too, but Sly Stallone managed to get it right this time. All the Rocky detractors out there tend to forget that the scope of these films goes well beyond just boxing, and there’s more depth to the characters than Stallone is given credit for. In the commentary on the DVD for the first movie, Talia Shire called Rocky and Adrian "these two discarded people" who found each other, and their story was still pretty interesting even if you took out the whole boxing aspect of it. That’s what I liked about the new one—the story arc brought everything full circle and/or provided a fair sense of closure, with Rocky still grieving over Adrian’s death and dealing with the prospect of aging—rendering the fight scene almost irrelevant to me. Two things I could have done without, though: A) the guy who played Rocky’s son—he looks too much like Ben Affleck and not enough like the two other kids who played him in Rocky IV and V, and B) Jim Lampley—I’ve always hated that arrogant jagoff ever since he was a sideline reporter on ABC’s college football games back in the ‘70s. One other thing: Just once, wouldn't you have loved to see Rocky slam Paulie's nuts in a car door? Anywhooo, this was not a bad flick at all, and a nice way for the Italian Stallion to officially "retire".
MY THOUGHTS ON THE KEITH RICHARDS THING...
...where he claims to have snorted his father's cremated ashes along with a little Cocaine. Didn't Keef hit his head really hard falling out of a tree not so long ago? I think the boy is bullshitting us on this myself, but what still baffles me is why on earth he wears that fishing tackle in his hair. Dare I say it again—drugs are bad, mmm-kay?
SO FUNNY I FORGOT TO LAUGH
Your Vice-President poked fun at Dubya’s relationship with the White House press corps last week. "Funny Man Dick" said, "The president is really sorry he couldn’t be here tonight, but he had other obligations…his book club is meeting." [Place rim shot here] Don’t quit your day job, Dickie—I have no doubt that just like Swingin' Steven Hauk in Good Morning, Vietnam, you have avowed, "In my heart, I know I'm funny," but trust me, Dick, I know funny, and you ain't it! On second thought, please DO quit your day job—we’d all be a lot better off for it.
And come to think of it, that book club story might be true—it took him five and a half years, but ol’ Dubya finally finished reading that book about the goat…
MR. POT, MEET MR. KETTLE—YOU’RE BLACK!
Speaking of your President, Dubya was bitching up a storm yesterday over House Speaker Nancy Pelosi’s visit to Syria, calling it a "photo-op". That may or may not be true, but you sure are one to talk, Mr. "Heckuva job, Brownie"…
CLASSIC MISHEARD LYRIC #23
"Roxanne"—THE POLICE (1979) "You don’t have to put on the red light." Another co-worker submission here—apparently her young son thought Sting was saying "You don’t have to stop at the red light." Yes, kid, I’m afraid you do…
EBERT AND SIR RANT-A-LOT?
It was movie night at the ol' homestead here last night, and it wound up being a decent double-feature. First off, I watched The Holiday starring Cameron Diaz and my girl Kate Winslet. Not too bad for a chick flick, although the story was pretty implausible and I didn’t enjoy the storyline surrounding Diaz’s character half as much as Winslet’s. For some reason, I have trouble getting into Cameron Diaz, even though she has gorgeous blue eyes—I know she’s everyone’s favorite movie hottie and all, but skinny blondes like her just don’t turn me on (apart from Renee Zellweger, that is, and even then, I like her better at her Bridget Jones size). On the other hand, Kate Winslet is more my type, although I MUCH prefer her as a redhead. Getting back to the film itself, I thought Jack Black was quite good here, playing a Chandler Bing-like character. And thanks to this film, I now finally know what actor Eli Wallach looks like after years of him being nothing more than a crossword puzzle answer to me!
Part two of my double feature was Rocky Balboa, and I have to say the rumors are true—this was actually a good movie! If you like the Rocky film series at all, you’ll love this one. True, Rocky V sucked (anything involving that mongoloid Tommy Morrison is doomed to suck), and I had my doubts going into this one too, but Sly Stallone managed to get it right this time. All the Rocky detractors out there tend to forget that the scope of these films goes well beyond just boxing, and there’s more depth to the characters than Stallone is given credit for. In the commentary on the DVD for the first movie, Talia Shire called Rocky and Adrian "these two discarded people" who found each other, and their story was still pretty interesting even if you took out the whole boxing aspect of it. That’s what I liked about the new one—the story arc brought everything full circle and/or provided a fair sense of closure, with Rocky still grieving over Adrian’s death and dealing with the prospect of aging—rendering the fight scene almost irrelevant to me. Two things I could have done without, though: A) the guy who played Rocky’s son—he looks too much like Ben Affleck and not enough like the two other kids who played him in Rocky IV and V, and B) Jim Lampley—I’ve always hated that arrogant jagoff ever since he was a sideline reporter on ABC’s college football games back in the ‘70s. One other thing: Just once, wouldn't you have loved to see Rocky slam Paulie's nuts in a car door? Anywhooo, this was not a bad flick at all, and a nice way for the Italian Stallion to officially "retire".
MY THOUGHTS ON THE KEITH RICHARDS THING...
...where he claims to have snorted his father's cremated ashes along with a little Cocaine. Didn't Keef hit his head really hard falling out of a tree not so long ago? I think the boy is bullshitting us on this myself, but what still baffles me is why on earth he wears that fishing tackle in his hair. Dare I say it again—drugs are bad, mmm-kay?
Monday, April 2, 2007
"Gimme that chomp-chomp..."
The late Danny Joe Brown and Molly Hatchet nailed it on their first album almost 30 years ago, because this is indeed "Gator Country", as Florida has once again won the NCAA Basketball Championship. They seem to have Ohio State's number in both round ball and football champeenships lately, too. I kept thinking Florida would falter somewhere in this tournament, but they never did, and they even made a little history by winning the title two straight years with the same starting five—that's never been done before. It's hard to repeat in any sport, but especially in college basketball, so I have to give it up to Florida.Memo to CBS' Billy Packer: Florida's coach's last name is pronounced DON-ovan, not DUN-ovan, you yutz!
My "Field of Dreams"
Being as it's Opening Day and all, I think it's appropriate to honor the first Big League stadium I ever set foot in, Kansas City's Municipal Stadium. It was hardly the prettiest ballpark in the world, and not as fondly remembered as legends like Sportsman's Park, Ebbets Field or even old Comiskey Park in Chicago, but it was very cool in my young eyes. I was five years old when my folks took me to my first Royals game at this oversized Erector Set, and I fell in love with the place immediately. If ol' Doc Brown ever does perfect that Flux Capacitor thing, the first place I'm going to time-travel back to is Municipal Stadium. Ebbets Field might be my second stop...
Municipal began life as a Depression-era park called Muehlebach Field, and was home to several Minor League teams, as well as the legendary K.C. Monarchs of the Negro Leagues. It was a single-deck structure for over 30 years until the Philadelphia A's moved to Kansas City in 1955, necessitating the addition of the upper deck, which was built in an astounding nine months over the Fall and Winter of '54-'55. The A's called Municipal home for 13 miserable seasons before bolting to Oakland in 1968, and the expansion Royals played four seasons there before moving to their current palace at the Truman Sports Complex.
The main scoreboard was unique in a couple ways. First off, it was transplanted to K.C. from Boston's old Braves Field after the Braves moved to Milwaukee, and it listed the strikes ahead of the balls, for some reason. The houses across Brooklyn Avenue to the right of the scoreboard were often targets of home run balls too. I would love to have seen one of those Home Run Derbys held there and all the broken windows it would have yielded. I always loved those "toothbrush-style" light towers too.
The stadium was also home to the Chiefs during their original glory years from '63 to '71, although I never got to see a Chiefs game there in person. The Beatles also played there in September, 1964 when I was all of three months old.One of my most vivid memories of Municipal Stadium was the parking (or lack thereof). There were only a handful of "official" parking lots surrounding the park, so there were numerous enterprising homeowners in the area who would charge a buck and allow you to park in their front yard, which is what we often did. Unlike in that same neighborhood today, you didn't have to worry about the condition of your vehicle when you returned to it back then, as the people would actually keep an eye on your car during the game.
Some other things I recall about the old stadium include the narrow concrete ramps that led to the upper deck seating area that were suspended over the lower level seating bowl. Wrigley Field and Detroit's Tiger Stadium have/had similar set-ups, too, and you kinda felt like you were "walking the plank", even though the ramps were lined with chain-link fences on either side. I also remember the intricate checkerboard patterns that groundskeeper George Toma would put in the grass—they don't call this guy the "Marquis de Sod" for nothing! And I remember the P.A. announcer, the late Jack Layton, and his distinctive booming baritone voice every time he'd announce "A-mos O-tis" or "Loooouuu Piniella" coming to bat. Another cool feature of Municipal Stadium was at the end of each game, they allowed fans to walk on the warning track down the third base line toward an open gate in the left field wall to exit the park.
Unfortunately, Municipal Stadium had a short shelf life in the Major Leagues, and it closed after the '72 season when the team moved to Royals (now Kauffman) Stadium. Municipal sat vacant for four years before being demolished in 1976. In a rare moment of larceny, my old man and I snuck into the park one Saturday morning in the Spring of '76 just after demolition began and extricated three grandstand seats from the third base side and brought them home. Unfortunately, for reasons unknown to me to this day, Mom wouldn't allow them in the house, so they sat outside under a tree in the back yard for 30 years and rotted. I'm kicking myself now for not preserving them.
As much as I love Kauffman and Arrowhead Stadiums (two of the coolest man-made things on earth this side of the Gateway Arch, Mount Rushmore and the Golden Gate Bridge), I would give my left nut for just one more visit to the ol' ballpark at 22nd & Brooklyn—it was my personal "Field of Dreams".
Some other things I recall about the old stadium include the narrow concrete ramps that led to the upper deck seating area that were suspended over the lower level seating bowl. Wrigley Field and Detroit's Tiger Stadium have/had similar set-ups, too, and you kinda felt like you were "walking the plank", even though the ramps were lined with chain-link fences on either side. I also remember the intricate checkerboard patterns that groundskeeper George Toma would put in the grass—they don't call this guy the "Marquis de Sod" for nothing! And I remember the P.A. announcer, the late Jack Layton, and his distinctive booming baritone voice every time he'd announce "A-mos O-tis" or "Loooouuu Piniella" coming to bat. Another cool feature of Municipal Stadium was at the end of each game, they allowed fans to walk on the warning track down the third base line toward an open gate in the left field wall to exit the park.
Unfortunately, Municipal Stadium had a short shelf life in the Major Leagues, and it closed after the '72 season when the team moved to Royals (now Kauffman) Stadium. Municipal sat vacant for four years before being demolished in 1976. In a rare moment of larceny, my old man and I snuck into the park one Saturday morning in the Spring of '76 just after demolition began and extricated three grandstand seats from the third base side and brought them home. Unfortunately, for reasons unknown to me to this day, Mom wouldn't allow them in the house, so they sat outside under a tree in the back yard for 30 years and rotted. I'm kicking myself now for not preserving them.
As much as I love Kauffman and Arrowhead Stadiums (two of the coolest man-made things on earth this side of the Gateway Arch, Mount Rushmore and the Golden Gate Bridge), I would give my left nut for just one more visit to the ol' ballpark at 22nd & Brooklyn—it was my personal "Field of Dreams".
Let us pray...
"Dear Lord...May our bats be swift, and may our balls be plentiful."—Jimmy Dugan, A League of Our Own
Well, in the case of the Kansas City Royals, the bats and balls were swift and plentiful today at their home opener, a 7-1 win over the Boston Red Sox. I almost didn't recognize that team in the white uniforms today—they were fundamentally sound, they had clutch hitting, and had a starting pitcher that got into the 8th inning! Meanwhile, Curt Schilling of the Red Sox didn't even make it into the 5th inning, and K.C. went deep into their bullpen. Nice to see a packed house at Kauffman Stadium, and it appeared to be quite festive there. The Royals should have REO Speedwagon sing the National Anthem more often, too...
Opening day is always special, and I'm happy to see baseball games that count again. I enjoyed watching the Cardinals home opener on ESPN last night (although the result sucked). John Miller and Joe Morgan are becoming a bit of an institution on Sunday nights, and I particuarly enjoy Miller's easy delivery style. Speaking of play-by-play men, I want to acknowledge the passing of Minnesota Twins voice Herb Carneal, who died yesterday at age 83. I never got to listen to him much, so I'm not terribly familiar with his work, but from everything I've ever heard, Carneal is the Jack Buck/Ernie Harwell/Vin Scully/Denny Matthews of the Upper Midwest, and they love him in the Twins Cities. Very sad he passed away on the eve of the season, too. R.I.P. Herb...
On the positive side, I'm shooting for my second straight Fantasy Baseball title this year, as Holland's Wallbangers were the champs in '06. This year's team is simply called The Who, as the Yahoo league I'm in has a Rock band theme—I'll be taking on the likes of Black Sabbath, Iron Maiden, the Red Hot Chili Peppers and Kiss, which was already taken. And of course, the one standing rule for my fantasy teams still applies: NO YANKEES ALLOWED!
As for the real players, I look forward to a good year from the Cubs, a better year from the Royals and Barry Bonds to suffer a career-ending suspension and/or injury while stuck on home run #754.
If I may paraphrase Mr. Cub himself, Ernie Banks: "Let's play 162!"
Well, in the case of the Kansas City Royals, the bats and balls were swift and plentiful today at their home opener, a 7-1 win over the Boston Red Sox. I almost didn't recognize that team in the white uniforms today—they were fundamentally sound, they had clutch hitting, and had a starting pitcher that got into the 8th inning! Meanwhile, Curt Schilling of the Red Sox didn't even make it into the 5th inning, and K.C. went deep into their bullpen. Nice to see a packed house at Kauffman Stadium, and it appeared to be quite festive there. The Royals should have REO Speedwagon sing the National Anthem more often, too...
Opening day is always special, and I'm happy to see baseball games that count again. I enjoyed watching the Cardinals home opener on ESPN last night (although the result sucked). John Miller and Joe Morgan are becoming a bit of an institution on Sunday nights, and I particuarly enjoy Miller's easy delivery style. Speaking of play-by-play men, I want to acknowledge the passing of Minnesota Twins voice Herb Carneal, who died yesterday at age 83. I never got to listen to him much, so I'm not terribly familiar with his work, but from everything I've ever heard, Carneal is the Jack Buck/Ernie Harwell/Vin Scully/Denny Matthews of the Upper Midwest, and they love him in the Twins Cities. Very sad he passed away on the eve of the season, too. R.I.P. Herb...
On the positive side, I'm shooting for my second straight Fantasy Baseball title this year, as Holland's Wallbangers were the champs in '06. This year's team is simply called The Who, as the Yahoo league I'm in has a Rock band theme—I'll be taking on the likes of Black Sabbath, Iron Maiden, the Red Hot Chili Peppers and Kiss, which was already taken. And of course, the one standing rule for my fantasy teams still applies: NO YANKEES ALLOWED!
As for the real players, I look forward to a good year from the Cubs, a better year from the Royals and Barry Bonds to suffer a career-ending suspension and/or injury while stuck on home run #754.
If I may paraphrase Mr. Cub himself, Ernie Banks: "Let's play 162!"
Saturday, March 31, 2007
Odds but no ends
'THE DAY THE MUSIC WAS SHOT?'—EPILOGUE
Just wanted to publish a bit of a retraction on my previous rants about the whole Big Bopper exhumation thing to determine if gunfire was involved in his demise. I read an article in the paper the other day which stated that J.P. Richardson's family was going to have him exhumed anyway for to move his remains to a more fan-friendly location in the cemetery, plus add a statue in his honor. His son—who was an infant when the Bopper died—also wanted some closure, and the opportunity was also there for the forensics expert to study the decomposition rate of the body and take x-rays at the same time, so they did so. Evidently Bopper was well-preserved after 48 years in the ground, and his son got to literally see his father for the first time, so far be it for me to criticize that, thus I take back most of what I said before about the exhumation of The Big Bopper. I still think all that gunfire mythology is a bunch of hooey, though!
HO! HO! HO!
You don’t suppose singer Don Ho has any female relatives named Ida, do you? Or Heidi? Or Talley? Or Gung?
SHOULD I HAVE SEEN THIS COMING?
I love the promos VH-1 Classic is currently running for Shaw-Blades (AKA Tommy Shaw and Jack Blades of Damn Yankees and/or Styx and Night Ranger, respectively), and their current CD/tour, where they refer to them as "Rock visionaries". Okay, "Crystal Ball" notwithstanding, I hardly consider Tommy Shaw, let alone Jack Blades, to be a visonary! Don't get me wrong, I like Styx, Night Ranger and Damn Yankees, and they’re both nice guys and decent singer/songwriters, but if they're such visionaries, then why is their new CD just a bunch of remakes of other people’s songs? Not exactly groundbreaking or innovative stuff, here...
QUESTION #21
I should have included the following in my "20 Questions" post from a while back:
Woody on "Cheers" to Bill Medley of the Righteous Brothers: "So why'd you change your name from 'Righteous'?"
CLOWNS TO THE LEFT OF ME, JOKERS TO THE RIGHT—PART II
I've been meaning to relate the story of how I obtained my current computer monitor. About eight months ago at work, our CT scanner kept crashing for some reason, and our crack (smoking) staff of bio-med technicians tried to blame this on one of the monitors—a flat-screen NEC plasma model. Now, I'm hardly a computer expert, but even I know damn well that a monitor doesn't cause anything to crash, yet these fools were actually going to throw this thing in the dumpster! I politely inquired if I could bring it home and see if it worked on my PC, and they said sure. Thus, I made off with a perfectly good $800 computer monitor for absolutely nothing, and there ain't a damn thing wrong with it! I haven't had the heart to tell those guys that my 'puter hasn't crashed once since I brought it home, either...
While I'm on the subject of my co-workers, I was trying to choke down my lunch the other day whilst two female co-workers were comparing notes on the manner in which their mothers had died! Nothing wrong with that sort of bonding amongst co-workers, but not exactly the best topic of discussion at the lunch table…
CLASSIC MISHEARD LYRIC #22
"Long Live Rock"—THE WHO (1972) "Meanwhile, it’s getting laid at ten o’clock…" I didn’t know what "getting laid" meant when I first heard this song, so I merely thought it was "getting late at ten o’clock."
AND SPEAKING OF THE 'ORRIBLE 'OO...
Here are my Top 10 suggestions for Who tribute band names:
1) The Whom
2) The Whoever
3) The What
4) The How
5) Who Dat? (Cajun version)
6) Who's Yo Daddy? (Hip-Hop version)
7) The Whoosiers (Indiana version)
8) Who Farted?
9) Who's There?
10) Who's Left (oh wait, that's the current Who lineup!)
Just wanted to publish a bit of a retraction on my previous rants about the whole Big Bopper exhumation thing to determine if gunfire was involved in his demise. I read an article in the paper the other day which stated that J.P. Richardson's family was going to have him exhumed anyway for to move his remains to a more fan-friendly location in the cemetery, plus add a statue in his honor. His son—who was an infant when the Bopper died—also wanted some closure, and the opportunity was also there for the forensics expert to study the decomposition rate of the body and take x-rays at the same time, so they did so. Evidently Bopper was well-preserved after 48 years in the ground, and his son got to literally see his father for the first time, so far be it for me to criticize that, thus I take back most of what I said before about the exhumation of The Big Bopper. I still think all that gunfire mythology is a bunch of hooey, though!
HO! HO! HO!
You don’t suppose singer Don Ho has any female relatives named Ida, do you? Or Heidi? Or Talley? Or Gung?
SHOULD I HAVE SEEN THIS COMING?
I love the promos VH-1 Classic is currently running for Shaw-Blades (AKA Tommy Shaw and Jack Blades of Damn Yankees and/or Styx and Night Ranger, respectively), and their current CD/tour, where they refer to them as "Rock visionaries". Okay, "Crystal Ball" notwithstanding, I hardly consider Tommy Shaw, let alone Jack Blades, to be a visonary! Don't get me wrong, I like Styx, Night Ranger and Damn Yankees, and they’re both nice guys and decent singer/songwriters, but if they're such visionaries, then why is their new CD just a bunch of remakes of other people’s songs? Not exactly groundbreaking or innovative stuff, here...
QUESTION #21
I should have included the following in my "20 Questions" post from a while back:
Woody on "Cheers" to Bill Medley of the Righteous Brothers: "So why'd you change your name from 'Righteous'?"
CLOWNS TO THE LEFT OF ME, JOKERS TO THE RIGHT—PART II
I've been meaning to relate the story of how I obtained my current computer monitor. About eight months ago at work, our CT scanner kept crashing for some reason, and our crack (smoking) staff of bio-med technicians tried to blame this on one of the monitors—a flat-screen NEC plasma model. Now, I'm hardly a computer expert, but even I know damn well that a monitor doesn't cause anything to crash, yet these fools were actually going to throw this thing in the dumpster! I politely inquired if I could bring it home and see if it worked on my PC, and they said sure. Thus, I made off with a perfectly good $800 computer monitor for absolutely nothing, and there ain't a damn thing wrong with it! I haven't had the heart to tell those guys that my 'puter hasn't crashed once since I brought it home, either...
While I'm on the subject of my co-workers, I was trying to choke down my lunch the other day whilst two female co-workers were comparing notes on the manner in which their mothers had died! Nothing wrong with that sort of bonding amongst co-workers, but not exactly the best topic of discussion at the lunch table…
CLASSIC MISHEARD LYRIC #22
"Long Live Rock"—THE WHO (1972) "Meanwhile, it’s getting laid at ten o’clock…" I didn’t know what "getting laid" meant when I first heard this song, so I merely thought it was "getting late at ten o’clock."
AND SPEAKING OF THE 'ORRIBLE 'OO...
Here are my Top 10 suggestions for Who tribute band names:
1) The Whom
2) The Whoever
3) The What
4) The How
5) Who Dat? (Cajun version)
6) Who's Yo Daddy? (Hip-Hop version)
7) The Whoosiers (Indiana version)
8) Who Farted?
9) Who's There?
10) Who's Left (oh wait, that's the current Who lineup!)
Great Moments in T-Shirt Making
CARRY ME BACK TO OL' VIRGINA!
This is the design for the championship t-shirts that NIT tournament officials doled out the other night...
Apparently, they used the same company that made this guy's shirt...
Friday, March 30, 2007
World's Most Annoying TV Characters of All-Time
Dispensing with the more obvious ones like Urkel, Eddie Haskell, Scrappy-Doo and the Great Gazoo, here’s a little rundown of TV characters who I’ve found irritating over the years (in no particular order):
Phyllis Lindstrom—"Mary Tyler Moore Show" Flighty characters always get on my nerves, and Phyllis was the epitome of flighty-ness. Why Mary and Rhoda didn’t just tell her to go get stuffed is beyond me. And they even gave Phyllis her own show, too? Oy!
BeBe Glaser—"Frasier" Didn’t you just want to kick her in the head every time she appeared on screen? I love "Frasier", but there were an awful lot of inconsistencies on that show, one example being how Frasier always harped on maintaining his own principles and ethics, yet BeBe had none whatsoever. There’s no way in hell Frasier would hire a sleazy, underhanded twit like BeBe to be his agent—he was a psychologist, and would have easily seen right through her right off the bat.
Claire Huxtable—"The Cosby Show" I know they meant well on this show, but I got really tired of Claire’s preachiness, not to mention the way they made her out to be such a saint, as if she had all the answers and never did ANYTHING wrong. Her constant arrogant stare of disapproval over everything Cliff and the kids did was quite irritating, too. Good gravy, she’d get on Cliff every time he wanted something good to eat—and he was a freakin’ doctor, for crimeny’s sake!
ANY character played by Tony Danza I don't need to elaborate, do I?
Maxwell Sheffield—"The Nanny" I always hated that tight-assed snob with the crappy Brit accent and his faux-Ricky Ricardo "Miss Fine!!!" shtick. And what a dumbass—it took this douche, what, six years to notice he had a hot babe living under his own roof?!? Yes, I know Fran's voice was every bit as annoying as Yoko Ono's singing, but that’s what earplugs are for!
Diane Chambers—"Cheers" There are two distinct camps of "Cheers" fans—one side prefers the early "Diane years" with Shelly Long, and the other prefers the "Rebecca years" with Kirstie Alley. Count me in the latter group, because I couldn’t stand that pseudo-intellectual phony snob Diane. Shelly Long is a decent actress, and very attractive too, but that character grated on me like a Zamfir record. And that whole on-again/off-again love affair with Sam (or "Sahm" as she snobbily pronounced it) got old real fast, too. Apart from Diane being the frequent target of Carla’s verbal skewer, I’ll take ol’ "Granite Panties" (Rebecca) any day over her. I’ve heard from more than one source that Shelly Long was a royal pain in the ass to work with too.
J.J. Evans—"Good Times" Looking back now, I can’t believe I actually thought "Kid Dynomite" was funny 30 years ago. I guess that’s the difference of viewing things with 42-year-old eyes as opposed to 12-year-old ones. I now see why John Amos and the late Esther Rolle complained so vehemently about the buffoonish nature of J.J.’s character. I watch the show now just hoping James would fucking lay him out just once. And J.J.’s constant bragging about his prowess with the opposite sex was so ludicrous—he was about as proficient with women as Anna Nicole Smith would have been as a contestant on "Jeopardy!".
Col. Flagg—"M*A*S*H" Okay, the over-zealous "intelligence" officer was funny the first couple times he appeared on the show, but it got really stupid after a while, and Flagg reached his nadir when he tried to dupe the far more intelligent Major Winchester and/or Col. Potter, as opposed to the ever-gullible Frank Burns.
Vic Ferrari—"Taxi" Not only was it totally implausible for Latka Gravas to have an alter-ego who spoke English properly, it wasn’t funny, either! Sorry if I’m too thick here, but I never "got" Andy Kaufman—his brand of humor just went right by me most of the time. Loved the Latka character—brilliant stuff, there—but beyond that, I thought Kaufman was just an arrogant smart-ass.
Elvin—"The Cosby Show" Gonna have to side with the rank-and-file on the JumpTheShark website here—was this guy not just about the biggest wuss on TV? Ain’t no way in hell a cutie like Saundra would fall for a dork like him anyway.
Dr. Zachary Smith—"Lost In Space" "Oh, the pain!" I take back what I just said above: here’s the biggest wuss in TV history! Don’t mean to bash the late Jonathan Harris—he was brilliantly campy as Dr. Smith—but his act did get rather tiresome after a while, and you kept hoping the Robot would zap his ass a couple times, or maybe the Robinsons would take off in the Jupiter II without him, stranding him on some misbegotten planet with the talking carrots. Smith actually made a more interesting character early on in the series when he was more sinister and out to sabotage the mission. But, the "LIS" producers noticed how the high-camp on "Batman" was generating huge ratings over at ABC, thus a legend (of sorts) was born. "Never fear, Smith is here!"
Cousin Oliver—"The Brady Bunch"; Jeremy—"Eight Is Enough"; Alex—"One Day At A Time"; Little Ricky—"The Partridge Family"; Seven—"Married…With Children"; Raul— "Chico & The Man" I lump all these together because they’re examples of desperation on the part of established shows with child stars who outgrew their youthfulness and/or cuteness. So what did they do? Trot out some younger cousin, neighbor kid or adopted orphan to try to boost the ratings, and it almost NEVER worked! These new characters almost always trashed the show’s original chemistry, and were more of a nuisance than anything else. Only "M…WC" had sense enough to drop their kid like a hot potato—the rest of these shows, in most cases, went off the air within a year after the kid’s arrival. Another example of this phenomenon (for different reasons) is Raul on "Chico & The Man". That show should have ended the minute Freddie Prinze blew his brains out, but the producers disrespectfully brought in this cheeky little kid to replace him, and it was just plain wrong! The only exception I can think of where this ploy actually worked was when Janet Jackson joined the cast of "Good Times" as Penny.
Mr. Furley—"Three’s Company" Why did Jack Tripper have to worry about being outed for being gay with this fucker chasing him around wearing a pink scarf and a bad toupee? Loved Don Knotts as Barney Fife, but he should have quit while he was ahead.
Phyllis Lindstrom—"Mary Tyler Moore Show" Flighty characters always get on my nerves, and Phyllis was the epitome of flighty-ness. Why Mary and Rhoda didn’t just tell her to go get stuffed is beyond me. And they even gave Phyllis her own show, too? Oy!
BeBe Glaser—"Frasier" Didn’t you just want to kick her in the head every time she appeared on screen? I love "Frasier", but there were an awful lot of inconsistencies on that show, one example being how Frasier always harped on maintaining his own principles and ethics, yet BeBe had none whatsoever. There’s no way in hell Frasier would hire a sleazy, underhanded twit like BeBe to be his agent—he was a psychologist, and would have easily seen right through her right off the bat.
Claire Huxtable—"The Cosby Show" I know they meant well on this show, but I got really tired of Claire’s preachiness, not to mention the way they made her out to be such a saint, as if she had all the answers and never did ANYTHING wrong. Her constant arrogant stare of disapproval over everything Cliff and the kids did was quite irritating, too. Good gravy, she’d get on Cliff every time he wanted something good to eat—and he was a freakin’ doctor, for crimeny’s sake!
ANY character played by Tony Danza I don't need to elaborate, do I?
Maxwell Sheffield—"The Nanny" I always hated that tight-assed snob with the crappy Brit accent and his faux-Ricky Ricardo "Miss Fine!!!" shtick. And what a dumbass—it took this douche, what, six years to notice he had a hot babe living under his own roof?!? Yes, I know Fran's voice was every bit as annoying as Yoko Ono's singing, but that’s what earplugs are for!
Diane Chambers—"Cheers" There are two distinct camps of "Cheers" fans—one side prefers the early "Diane years" with Shelly Long, and the other prefers the "Rebecca years" with Kirstie Alley. Count me in the latter group, because I couldn’t stand that pseudo-intellectual phony snob Diane. Shelly Long is a decent actress, and very attractive too, but that character grated on me like a Zamfir record. And that whole on-again/off-again love affair with Sam (or "Sahm" as she snobbily pronounced it) got old real fast, too. Apart from Diane being the frequent target of Carla’s verbal skewer, I’ll take ol’ "Granite Panties" (Rebecca) any day over her. I’ve heard from more than one source that Shelly Long was a royal pain in the ass to work with too.
J.J. Evans—"Good Times" Looking back now, I can’t believe I actually thought "Kid Dynomite" was funny 30 years ago. I guess that’s the difference of viewing things with 42-year-old eyes as opposed to 12-year-old ones. I now see why John Amos and the late Esther Rolle complained so vehemently about the buffoonish nature of J.J.’s character. I watch the show now just hoping James would fucking lay him out just once. And J.J.’s constant bragging about his prowess with the opposite sex was so ludicrous—he was about as proficient with women as Anna Nicole Smith would have been as a contestant on "Jeopardy!".
Col. Flagg—"M*A*S*H" Okay, the over-zealous "intelligence" officer was funny the first couple times he appeared on the show, but it got really stupid after a while, and Flagg reached his nadir when he tried to dupe the far more intelligent Major Winchester and/or Col. Potter, as opposed to the ever-gullible Frank Burns.
Vic Ferrari—"Taxi" Not only was it totally implausible for Latka Gravas to have an alter-ego who spoke English properly, it wasn’t funny, either! Sorry if I’m too thick here, but I never "got" Andy Kaufman—his brand of humor just went right by me most of the time. Loved the Latka character—brilliant stuff, there—but beyond that, I thought Kaufman was just an arrogant smart-ass.
Elvin—"The Cosby Show" Gonna have to side with the rank-and-file on the JumpTheShark website here—was this guy not just about the biggest wuss on TV? Ain’t no way in hell a cutie like Saundra would fall for a dork like him anyway.
Dr. Zachary Smith—"Lost In Space" "Oh, the pain!" I take back what I just said above: here’s the biggest wuss in TV history! Don’t mean to bash the late Jonathan Harris—he was brilliantly campy as Dr. Smith—but his act did get rather tiresome after a while, and you kept hoping the Robot would zap his ass a couple times, or maybe the Robinsons would take off in the Jupiter II without him, stranding him on some misbegotten planet with the talking carrots. Smith actually made a more interesting character early on in the series when he was more sinister and out to sabotage the mission. But, the "LIS" producers noticed how the high-camp on "Batman" was generating huge ratings over at ABC, thus a legend (of sorts) was born. "Never fear, Smith is here!"
Cousin Oliver—"The Brady Bunch"; Jeremy—"Eight Is Enough"; Alex—"One Day At A Time"; Little Ricky—"The Partridge Family"; Seven—"Married…With Children"; Raul— "Chico & The Man" I lump all these together because they’re examples of desperation on the part of established shows with child stars who outgrew their youthfulness and/or cuteness. So what did they do? Trot out some younger cousin, neighbor kid or adopted orphan to try to boost the ratings, and it almost NEVER worked! These new characters almost always trashed the show’s original chemistry, and were more of a nuisance than anything else. Only "M…WC" had sense enough to drop their kid like a hot potato—the rest of these shows, in most cases, went off the air within a year after the kid’s arrival. Another example of this phenomenon (for different reasons) is Raul on "Chico & The Man". That show should have ended the minute Freddie Prinze blew his brains out, but the producers disrespectfully brought in this cheeky little kid to replace him, and it was just plain wrong! The only exception I can think of where this ploy actually worked was when Janet Jackson joined the cast of "Good Times" as Penny.
Mr. Furley—"Three’s Company" Why did Jack Tripper have to worry about being outed for being gay with this fucker chasing him around wearing a pink scarf and a bad toupee? Loved Don Knotts as Barney Fife, but he should have quit while he was ahead.
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
New Business/Old Business
"MISTAKES WERE MADE"
Seems the family of Pat Tillman is dissatisfied with the results that were announced this week by the Bush Administration regarding the official investigation into his demise. Hate to burst your bubble, folks, but they blew up their own poster boy—ain't no way in hell this administration will ever come clean about what really happened...
YOU'D BEST MAKE ALTERNATE PLANS...
...if you live in Kansas City and want to watch CBS programming tomorrow night. There's an 80% chance of severe thunderstorms, which means there's a 100% chance of a Katie Horner "stormgasm" on Channel 5 that will pre-empt whatever's on tomorrow night. You might drive to Wichita and rent a hotel room to watch CBS shows, or just bag it altogether and rent a DVD...
CLASSIC MISHEARD LYRIC #21
"I Gotcha"--JOE TEX (1972) "I'll teach you to play with my affection." With just a minimum amount of imagination, "affection" easily morphs into "erection"! And you know damn well ol' Joe sang it that way in concert a time or two...
GIVE THEM DEATH OR GIVE THEM HEAD
As I type this, I'm watching that dreadful 1968 film The Monkees made called Head, and it's absolutely awful! It was the brainchild of actor Jack Nicholson too. A ny chance we could retroactively rescind a couple of his Oscars for this hunk of junk? Drugs are bad, mmm-kay?
WORLD'S DUMBEST SONG LYRICS OF ALL-TIME, VOL. V
"Why Can’t This Be Love?"—VAN HALEN (1986) "Only time will tell if we stand the test of time…" Another entry from the Department of Redundancy Department. Love Sammy Hagar to death, but I never have liked that song, for some reason.
"Let's Get Rocked"--DEF LEPPARD (1992) "Let's get the rock outta here!" Yes, I realize that "rock" is a euphemism for "fuck", but I still cringe every time I hear that line...
"Dance To The Music"--SLY & THE FAMILY STONE (1968) "You might like to hear my organ..." Nope! Nope! Nope! Homey don't play that! Sorry Sly, but I don't want nothin' to do with your organ! (Okay, I'm being facetious...)
"Rock And Roll Soul"--GRAND FUNK RAILROAD (1974) "It's kinda funky like an old-time movie." Hate to pick on these guys since they took enough abuse from the critics back in the day, but old-time movies are generally not "funky". Pretty obvious they nicked this line from the Lovin' Spoonful's "Do You Believe In Magic?"—"It makes you feel happy like an old-time movie."
Seems the family of Pat Tillman is dissatisfied with the results that were announced this week by the Bush Administration regarding the official investigation into his demise. Hate to burst your bubble, folks, but they blew up their own poster boy—ain't no way in hell this administration will ever come clean about what really happened...
YOU'D BEST MAKE ALTERNATE PLANS...
...if you live in Kansas City and want to watch CBS programming tomorrow night. There's an 80% chance of severe thunderstorms, which means there's a 100% chance of a Katie Horner "stormgasm" on Channel 5 that will pre-empt whatever's on tomorrow night. You might drive to Wichita and rent a hotel room to watch CBS shows, or just bag it altogether and rent a DVD...
CLASSIC MISHEARD LYRIC #21
"I Gotcha"--JOE TEX (1972) "I'll teach you to play with my affection." With just a minimum amount of imagination, "affection" easily morphs into "erection"! And you know damn well ol' Joe sang it that way in concert a time or two...
GIVE THEM DEATH OR GIVE THEM HEAD
As I type this, I'm watching that dreadful 1968 film The Monkees made called Head, and it's absolutely awful! It was the brainchild of actor Jack Nicholson too. A ny chance we could retroactively rescind a couple of his Oscars for this hunk of junk? Drugs are bad, mmm-kay?
WORLD'S DUMBEST SONG LYRICS OF ALL-TIME, VOL. V
"Why Can’t This Be Love?"—VAN HALEN (1986) "Only time will tell if we stand the test of time…" Another entry from the Department of Redundancy Department. Love Sammy Hagar to death, but I never have liked that song, for some reason.
"Let's Get Rocked"--DEF LEPPARD (1992) "Let's get the rock outta here!" Yes, I realize that "rock" is a euphemism for "fuck", but I still cringe every time I hear that line...
"Dance To The Music"--SLY & THE FAMILY STONE (1968) "You might like to hear my organ..." Nope! Nope! Nope! Homey don't play that! Sorry Sly, but I don't want nothin' to do with your organ! (Okay, I'm being facetious...)
"Rock And Roll Soul"--GRAND FUNK RAILROAD (1974) "It's kinda funky like an old-time movie." Hate to pick on these guys since they took enough abuse from the critics back in the day, but old-time movies are generally not "funky". Pretty obvious they nicked this line from the Lovin' Spoonful's "Do You Believe In Magic?"—"It makes you feel happy like an old-time movie."
Monday, March 26, 2007
Da Raidas!
Since I yap about them so much on here, why don't I just give a little shout out to the most underrated Rock 'N' Roll band of all-time, Paul Revere & The Raiders? Long before Ted Nugent, long before Gene Simmons, long before Elton John even, there was my original Rock idol, the pony-tailed Mark Lindsay. My earliest memories of being alive are of standing atop my toy box, rocking out to PR&TR with my plastic guitar (with the broken strings) at age 3, and dreaming of being Mark Lindsay. Oddly enough, I can thank my old man's narrow-mindedness for my devotion to this wonderful band—he deemed The Beatles to be Communists because of Lennon's "We're bigger than Jesus" quote, yet he deemed the Raiders patriotic enough to be allowed in our house when the Fab Four weren't. This coming from a man who rarely ever went to church himself, yet constantly bitched and griped about the people who ran our church, but I digress... I discovered the magic of The Beatles in my own time, but the Raiders were MY group almost from Day One, and always will be. They were certainly my first taste of Rock 'N' Roll, and I'd put their stuff up against the Monkees', Beach Boys' and Lovin' Spoonful's best stuff any day! Don't even get me started on why these guys aren't in the Rock And Roll Hall of Fame...I had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Lindsay backstage after a concert in 2001, and he was every bit as cool as I imagined him to be—very gracious and accomodating in signing otto-graphs, and quite a nice man to speak to. It's too bad Paul Revere himself doesn't revere the band's history more appropriately in his Branson nostalgia act, though. Sadly, his current band of "Raiders" is more like a '60s music revue than a PR&TR show. Sorry Paul, but I don't wanna hear "Mony, Mony" and "Heard It Through The Grapevine" at your show—I wanna hear Raiders songs! And I'm talking about more than just a minute worth of "Kicks" and a minute worth of "Good Thing" too...
Still and all, these are the only Raiders I'll ever root for...
My PR&TR Top 5:
1) "Time After Time" (1969) Little-known song whose backing track was also used in a Pontiac GTO TV ad. It would make the Fuzz Guitar Hall of Fame (if there was one).
2) "The Great Airplane Strike" (1966) One of the coolest fucking songs of all-time. Ironcially, it sounds even better in mono! View it here.
3) "Hungry" (1966) One of their biggest hits, featuring Drake Levin's underrated guitar work. View it here.
4) "Let Me!" (1969) A sadly forgotten hit from around the time of Woodstock. It would also make the Fuzz Guitar Hall of Fame (if there was one). View it here.
5) "Him Or Me-What's It Gonna Be?" (1967) This one hit #5 in early '68—one of their most energetic songs. View it here.
Just catching up...
HAPPY 60TH, SIR REGINALD!
I would be remiss if I didn't acknowledge one young Reginald Kenneth Dwight's (aka Sir Elton John) 60th b-day yesterday. Evidently, EJ celebrated it with 18,000 of his closest friends at his record 60th concert at New York's Madison Square Garden last night, and put on a three-hour show, to boot. An amazing man, an amazing performer, and one helluva musician, the impact Elton has had on the soundtrack of my life is immeasurable. It makes me no never mind that he's gay—hell, he can hump a water buffalo, for all I care—all I know is I enjoy his music, period! A hearty "thank you" from me to that "cat named Hercules" for a brilliant musical career.
COMING FULL CIRCLE?
I read today that the Oakland Raiders hired Alabama State coach Charlie Coe to be their new receivers coach. Seems only fitting, since Charlie Coe (the dude on the right in the red shirt in the pic here) was once the bassist for Paul Revere & The Raiders from 1967-69, and I couldn't help but notice the coincidence. Let's just hope for his sake that those kicks don't "keep getting harder to find". Ba-dum-bump!
CLASSIC MISHEARD LYRIC #20
"Jungle Boogie"—KOOL & THE GANG (1974) This one comes courtesy of a co-worker who used to sing this song all the time at work. Another co-worker asked him why he always sang it incorrectly--she thought the song was called "Jungle Bunny"...
ROCK CHALK—WHAT THE FUCK?!?
Okay, Kansas—what happened?!? You took my brilliant plan to have you losing to Roy Williams and UNC in the NCAA Tournament Finals and you made it fail—YOU BIG DUMMIES! Of course, it didn't help that UNC lost too. Shit, unlike Missouri, UCLA didn't even need Tyus Edney to beat Kansas the other night. So much for my Final Four—D'oh!
TRIP NEWS AND NOTES
Just a couple other things from my weekend sabbatical...
—I paid another visit to the mighty Mall of America in Bloomington, which was built on the site of the old Metropolitan Stadium, where they marked the spot where home plate used to be (where Rod Carew always led off with a base hit against the Royals when they played up there). They also marked the spot where slugger Harmon Killebrew knocked a 500-some-odd-foot homer into the left center field seats there. Very cool stuff. These MOA folks really have it dicked here too—an indoor amusement park surrounded by a mall that operates 364 days a year. I'm in the wrong business racket...
—A big Bronx Cheer to the Hard Rock Cafe in Minneapolis! I was really looking forward to lunching there on Saturday afternoon, yet I wound up walking out after being seated and basically ignored. They weren't all that busy at the time, but no less than three fairly unattractive waitresses passed by my table and didn't even look at me, so after well over five minutes of indifference from the HRC wait staff, I said fuck it and went next door to Hooters. I often get ignored there too, but I figured at least there I'd have something to look at whilst being ignored! I encounter this phenomenon a lot in my travels—why is it a single person gets treated like shit in restaurants so often? It always pisses me off to watch the big party of four or more people next to me receiving the server's undivided attention, while they avoid me like a Ricky Martin CD. Are they afraid I won't leave a good tip, just because I'm by myself? Bullshit, I say! After perusing the HRC menu, it's just as well—any place that has the nerve to charge 12 bucks for a fucking burger probably isn't worth my time anyway. Oddly enough, I actually got GOOD service from Hooters for a change, this time...
—And finally, an urgent request to the state of Missouri: FIX THE FUCKING ROADS!!! I didn't even need the "Welcome To Missouri" sign to tell me where I was when I crossed the state line coming home—the road surface was a good enough clue. Both I-35 and US 69 north of Kansas City are simply frightful. Kiss my asphalt—is it any wonder our state is always ranked at the top of the Worst Roads rankings?!?
I would be remiss if I didn't acknowledge one young Reginald Kenneth Dwight's (aka Sir Elton John) 60th b-day yesterday. Evidently, EJ celebrated it with 18,000 of his closest friends at his record 60th concert at New York's Madison Square Garden last night, and put on a three-hour show, to boot. An amazing man, an amazing performer, and one helluva musician, the impact Elton has had on the soundtrack of my life is immeasurable. It makes me no never mind that he's gay—hell, he can hump a water buffalo, for all I care—all I know is I enjoy his music, period! A hearty "thank you" from me to that "cat named Hercules" for a brilliant musical career.
COMING FULL CIRCLE?
I read today that the Oakland Raiders hired Alabama State coach Charlie Coe to be their new receivers coach. Seems only fitting, since Charlie Coe (the dude on the right in the red shirt in the pic here) was once the bassist for Paul Revere & The Raiders from 1967-69, and I couldn't help but notice the coincidence. Let's just hope for his sake that those kicks don't "keep getting harder to find". Ba-dum-bump!
CLASSIC MISHEARD LYRIC #20
"Jungle Boogie"—KOOL & THE GANG (1974) This one comes courtesy of a co-worker who used to sing this song all the time at work. Another co-worker asked him why he always sang it incorrectly--she thought the song was called "Jungle Bunny"...
ROCK CHALK—WHAT THE FUCK?!?
Okay, Kansas—what happened?!? You took my brilliant plan to have you losing to Roy Williams and UNC in the NCAA Tournament Finals and you made it fail—YOU BIG DUMMIES! Of course, it didn't help that UNC lost too. Shit, unlike Missouri, UCLA didn't even need Tyus Edney to beat Kansas the other night. So much for my Final Four—D'oh!
TRIP NEWS AND NOTES
Just a couple other things from my weekend sabbatical...
—I paid another visit to the mighty Mall of America in Bloomington, which was built on the site of the old Metropolitan Stadium, where they marked the spot where home plate used to be (where Rod Carew always led off with a base hit against the Royals when they played up there). They also marked the spot where slugger Harmon Killebrew knocked a 500-some-odd-foot homer into the left center field seats there. Very cool stuff. These MOA folks really have it dicked here too—an indoor amusement park surrounded by a mall that operates 364 days a year. I'm in the wrong business racket...
—A big Bronx Cheer to the Hard Rock Cafe in Minneapolis! I was really looking forward to lunching there on Saturday afternoon, yet I wound up walking out after being seated and basically ignored. They weren't all that busy at the time, but no less than three fairly unattractive waitresses passed by my table and didn't even look at me, so after well over five minutes of indifference from the HRC wait staff, I said fuck it and went next door to Hooters. I often get ignored there too, but I figured at least there I'd have something to look at whilst being ignored! I encounter this phenomenon a lot in my travels—why is it a single person gets treated like shit in restaurants so often? It always pisses me off to watch the big party of four or more people next to me receiving the server's undivided attention, while they avoid me like a Ricky Martin CD. Are they afraid I won't leave a good tip, just because I'm by myself? Bullshit, I say! After perusing the HRC menu, it's just as well—any place that has the nerve to charge 12 bucks for a fucking burger probably isn't worth my time anyway. Oddly enough, I actually got GOOD service from Hooters for a change, this time...
—And finally, an urgent request to the state of Missouri: FIX THE FUCKING ROADS!!! I didn't even need the "Welcome To Missouri" sign to tell me where I was when I crossed the state line coming home—the road surface was a good enough clue. Both I-35 and US 69 north of Kansas City are simply frightful. Kiss my asphalt—is it any wonder our state is always ranked at the top of the Worst Roads rankings?!?
CSI: Clear Lake, IA
On the way home yesterday, I stopped by the famed Buddy Holly/Ritchie Valens/Big Bopper plane crash site, hoping to find bullet fragments, but it was too bloody muddy to trudge across this time. I've been there twice before, though, and these photos are from my first visit to the site five years ago (when I had a lot more hair!). 
I can't explain why I'm drawn to things like this, really, but I remember the first time I checked it out in 2002 how excited I felt walking across that field (not even sure if I was in the right place or not) until I came upon the the homemade monument that marks the spot where the plane came to rest. It was also storming off to the north (over my left shoulder in the pic here), which kinda added to the excitement of the moment. If there's such a thing as "sacred ground" in Rock 'N' Roll History, this is it.If you'd like to make your own pilgrimage to the site, here's how to get there: Take I-35 (north or south) to Exit 197 and go west on County Road B20 1.3 miles to County Road S28, aka Grouse Ave., and turn right. Go north about 8/10 of a mile until the road begins to bend to the left—you'll come upon 310th Street on your immediate right. Turn right there, and follow 310th Street (a gravel road) east about a quarter mile to Gull Avenue (another gravel road) and turn left. Go north on Gull about half a mile until you see a cluster of grain silos on the left. Stop when you come to the T intersection of 315th Street & Gull Avenue. On the west side of Gull is a street sign post, and next to it is a telephone pole. You can still see I-35 to the east from where you're standing. Just to the right/north of the telephone pole is the end of a barbed-wire fence line. Follow that fence line (on foot at this point) about a quarter-mile west to the monument—you can't miss it, unless you're in the wrong place.
The owners of the farm—the Juhl family--don't mind if you trespass on their property, just be respectful and don't trash the place...
You have Xcel-ed, Young Grasshoppers!
I spent a glorious Saturday evening in St. Paul, Minnesota at "Insert-Corporate-Name-Here" Arena, better known as the Xcel Energy Center, which is by far the prettiest indoor arena I have ever seen. I'd heard many good things about "The X" before I ever set foot in the place, but once I got inside, I was blown away by the sight lines, the amenities, and the overall atmosphere, in spite of the fact they charged me $38 (plus "convenience" charge) for a next-to-last row nosebleed seat. This place is fucking gorgeous inside and out, and I was VERY impressed—if our new Sprint Center is anything like this joint, we're in for a real treat here in K.C. later this year...It was also fun to be around people who actually gave a shit about hockey for a change. The Minnesota Wild crowd was the polar opposite of the Des Moines crowd on Friday—enthusiastic, knowledgeable, and downright rabid. Even the good people of St. Louis—where I attended a Blues game earlier this season—don't hold a candle to the Twin Cities' faithful. To be fair, St. Louisans haven't had a lot to cheer about the last couple years, but the Minnesota folks really know their hockey and are passionate about it—how they went damn near ten years without an NHL team is unfathomable.
As for the building itself, it's an awesome place to watch a game. Everything is first-class here, and the place just oozes hockey. They put a lot of effort into honoring the area's hockey history here, dating way back to the horse-and-buggy days. The arena is very stately, and I loved the little extras they threw in, like the four "crow's nests" on each corner of the building, one of which houses a Zamboni-shaped organ (the musical kind), and another that resembles a lighthouse-type structure which houses the horn that goes off after every Wild goal, complete with fog machine. Add to that some state-of-the-art scoreboard and video outfitting, and you have a very enjoyable hockey rink. I imagine this would be a pretty nice concert venue as well.
I also had a chance to check out St. Paul's riverfront area, which is quite cool. Minneapolis seems to always get all the glory, but St. P certainly doesn't suck. Well done, St. Paul—I had a great time. A hearty "Bravo!" from yours truly...
Where's that confounded bridge?
Earlier in the day before the hockey game in Des Moines, I went on a fun little adventure checking out the famed Bridges of Madison County—all six of 'em! Iowa isn't nearly as boring as people think. There are a lot of cool things to do there—you just have to look for them. I spent roughly ninety minutes criss-crossing Madison County visiting the famed covered bridges, most of which were built just after the Civil War (ours, not Iraq's). I stopped off at the visitor's center near the town of Winterset (which is also the birthplace of actor John Wayne), and the elderly gentleman there was nice enough to go over the map with me and direct me to all six bridges—kudos to him! I saved the most famous bridge for last, the famed Roseman Bridge (pictured above), which of course was the focal point in the film The Bridges of Madison County. It was a bitch to get to, over 4 miles of twisty-turny gravel roads, but it was fun anyway. There was no note waiting for me from Francesca, though...Great film, by the way, especially for a "chick flick", but one scene in it always drives me nuts. It's where Robert (Clint Eastwood) and Francesca (Meryl Streep) do the dirty deed on the floor in front of a roaring fire in the fireplace—on a HOT night!!!! I still can't believe that Eastwood, of all people (he also directed the film), fell prey to this lame Hollywood cliché. These two are suddenly (and rather impulsively) drawn to each other, yet they have time to build a fire before they fuck each other?!? Oh, please! Did I mention it was a HOT night, too? And unless one has really good knee pads or thick carpet padding, I can tell you from personal experience that doing the wild thing on the floor is about as romantic as an autopsy. Give me my ol' Sealy Posture-pedic any day...
"We were a bit early for Des Moines..."
I'm quoting Ray Manzarek of The Doors, regarding the 1967 show they played in Iowa's capital city to a paying audience of 34 dumbstruck audience members. The same can also be said for the crowd at the Iowa Stars hockey game I attended at Wells Fargo Arena in Des Moines on Friday night! Nice building—outstanding, in fact—but a very bland atmosphere, as only 5,000 and change bothered to show up on a Friday. To be fair, the NCAA Tournament probably factored into the low attendance, plus they had another home game on Saturday night, but I can see why this team has been rumored to be leaving town after just two years in their new digs. These folks were more like the Larry The Cable Guy crowd than a hockey crowd. Too bad, because they have a first-class arena, even though they pull that black-curtain-to-close-off-the-upper-deck shtick to make the place look more intimate. I also wasn't too impressed with the concession stand staff, who acted like it was opening night, rather than the home stretch of the season. It took them forever to dish me up a freakin' hot dog, and the woman who waited on me had no clue how to pour a freakin' beer...Next morning, I awoke to stormy skies over Des Moines, and it looked for a bit like I'd get to do some storm chasing, but as I neared Ames, below is the view I had driving up I-35 toward Minnesota:
I haven't the foggiest idea what I drove through Saturday morning, as I charged through northern Iowa. Turns out there's not much to see anyway...
Back in the saddle again...
I have returned! It was a fine little weekend sabbatical in the Upper Midwest, details of which I will pass along in subsequent posts, as soon as I can round up some photos. It’s always nice to get away for even just a couple days to recharge one’s mental batteries, if nothing else. Wish I could have stayed a few more days too, but you know how that goes. In the meantime, it also gave me a little time to think about stuff…
Almost every time I go on a road trip, I’m asked by my co-workers, “Why do you always go by yourself?” Well, it’s pretty simple—I’m 42, and I don’t have a co-pilot! For me, it’s like the Gregg Allman song goes, there’s “nobody left to run with anymore,” and I don’t have much of a choice but to fly solo. True, I’ve always been kind of a loner, and most of my road trips have been solo acts anyway—I love the freedom of going wherever I want, whenever I want without having to argue about it and futz around with other people‘s agendas. It’s great in that regard, but it sucks in other ways, especially not having anyone to share the fun with, but I really don’t have a choice now because all my close friends are married and/or in the family way.
It never ceases to amaze me how the vaunted institution of marriage has quietly, yet stealthily managed to surgically remove ALL of my close friends from my social life. I don’t intend this to be a pity-party here, but I can’t even recall the last time I attended even a fucking ballgame with anyone other than my mother. Don’t get me wrong—I love Mom to death, but I find it rather pitiful that she’s the only person in my immediate circle who’s readily available to ring me up and say, “Hey Brian, how ‘bout we get out and do something?” My best friend and I haven’t done squat together since he got married six years ago—he’s always busy with his family and his church, so he’s pretty much tied up for the next 15 years until the youngest child graduates high school (maybe even a couple years longer). I have another close friend who’s a truck driver, so the last thing he wants to do is a road trip, and the same goes for another friend who travels a lot on business. Of my two closest female friends, one lives two time zones away, and the other currently lives halfway around the world. Other friends have gone AWOL altogether, and all of the above are married anyway, so I’m pretty well screwed for having anyone to tag along with me anywhere.
Most of my friends also don’t share my avid interest in ballparks and hockey arenas either, and I’m not about to put my life on hold waiting for someone to become available to explore sporting venues with me, thus I go it alone. Hell, I’m lucky if I can even get a personal e-mail from certain people anymore, even though they hear from me plenty, and I find that not only frustrating, but disheartening too. I try not to take it personally, but I can’t help but wonder sometimes. I realize I can be a bit opinionated at times, but I’m not exactly an axe-murderer (I can honestly say I've never murdered an axe in my life) or a child pornographer (believe me, the less I have to do with children, the better), yet I often feel like I’ve been kicked to the curb anyway. Whenever I broach that subject with my friends, they tell me I should get out and make new friends. Great idea, in theory, but not very easy in practice—and besides, these things take time to develop. Meantime, why can’t I expect a little acknowledgement from my existing friends? How long does it take to write a brief e-mail, anyway? About all I get is the token “Let’s get together and do something sometime…” but the phone never rings. I even feel a little resentment from certain friends because I’ve remained single all this time. Sorry if I’m the last domino to fall, and call me a heretic all you want, but I’m proud to say that I’ve never knuckled under to peer pressure to get married and/or have kids. I’m not cut out for that kind of life anyway…
Sorry to get off on a rant here, but I needed to get that out of my system. Maybe soon I’ll find a suitable co-pilot (preferably of the opposite sex) to travel the world with. In the meantime, I’d gladly take in a Kansas Shitty Royals game with someone besides Mom…
Almost every time I go on a road trip, I’m asked by my co-workers, “Why do you always go by yourself?” Well, it’s pretty simple—I’m 42, and I don’t have a co-pilot! For me, it’s like the Gregg Allman song goes, there’s “nobody left to run with anymore,” and I don’t have much of a choice but to fly solo. True, I’ve always been kind of a loner, and most of my road trips have been solo acts anyway—I love the freedom of going wherever I want, whenever I want without having to argue about it and futz around with other people‘s agendas. It’s great in that regard, but it sucks in other ways, especially not having anyone to share the fun with, but I really don’t have a choice now because all my close friends are married and/or in the family way.
It never ceases to amaze me how the vaunted institution of marriage has quietly, yet stealthily managed to surgically remove ALL of my close friends from my social life. I don’t intend this to be a pity-party here, but I can’t even recall the last time I attended even a fucking ballgame with anyone other than my mother. Don’t get me wrong—I love Mom to death, but I find it rather pitiful that she’s the only person in my immediate circle who’s readily available to ring me up and say, “Hey Brian, how ‘bout we get out and do something?” My best friend and I haven’t done squat together since he got married six years ago—he’s always busy with his family and his church, so he’s pretty much tied up for the next 15 years until the youngest child graduates high school (maybe even a couple years longer). I have another close friend who’s a truck driver, so the last thing he wants to do is a road trip, and the same goes for another friend who travels a lot on business. Of my two closest female friends, one lives two time zones away, and the other currently lives halfway around the world. Other friends have gone AWOL altogether, and all of the above are married anyway, so I’m pretty well screwed for having anyone to tag along with me anywhere.
Most of my friends also don’t share my avid interest in ballparks and hockey arenas either, and I’m not about to put my life on hold waiting for someone to become available to explore sporting venues with me, thus I go it alone. Hell, I’m lucky if I can even get a personal e-mail from certain people anymore, even though they hear from me plenty, and I find that not only frustrating, but disheartening too. I try not to take it personally, but I can’t help but wonder sometimes. I realize I can be a bit opinionated at times, but I’m not exactly an axe-murderer (I can honestly say I've never murdered an axe in my life) or a child pornographer (believe me, the less I have to do with children, the better), yet I often feel like I’ve been kicked to the curb anyway. Whenever I broach that subject with my friends, they tell me I should get out and make new friends. Great idea, in theory, but not very easy in practice—and besides, these things take time to develop. Meantime, why can’t I expect a little acknowledgement from my existing friends? How long does it take to write a brief e-mail, anyway? About all I get is the token “Let’s get together and do something sometime…” but the phone never rings. I even feel a little resentment from certain friends because I’ve remained single all this time. Sorry if I’m the last domino to fall, and call me a heretic all you want, but I’m proud to say that I’ve never knuckled under to peer pressure to get married and/or have kids. I’m not cut out for that kind of life anyway…
Sorry to get off on a rant here, but I needed to get that out of my system. Maybe soon I’ll find a suitable co-pilot (preferably of the opposite sex) to travel the world with. In the meantime, I’d gladly take in a Kansas Shitty Royals game with someone besides Mom…
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