"They Died Young"--Volume II

Metropolitan Stadium/Met Sports Center--Bloomington, MN

The Twin Cities almost overnight became Major League in 1961 as the Washington Senators of the American League moved there and became the Twins, and the expansion Minnesota Vikings of the National Football League began play that year.  Both teams called Metropolitan Stadium their home for the next 20 years.  The stadium was only about five years old, having been built in the mid-50's as a minor league baseball park, and it rose up like a huge erector set over the prairie on the southern reaches of the metro area, just across the highway from the Twin Cities' main airport.  "The Met" was hardly the prettiest ballpark ever built, but the fans loved the place warts and all, and the stadium went from minor league status to hosting the World Series in less than ten years.

Met Stadium was initially a triple-deck grandstand that basically hugged the baseball infield, but it went through numerous expansions throughout its history to accomodate both the Twins and the Vikings that gave the stadium an odd, patchy quality about it that was both a blessing and a curse—blessing in that it gave the place a certain home-y charm, curse in that poor planning wound up being the stadium's downfall eventually.  Compared with modern-day stadiums, the Met was very substandard in many ways—too few bathrooms, narrow concourses, only a handful of concession stands throughout the park and "temporary" seating areas that wound up being permanent, plus traffic after games was a total nightmare some nights.  The stadium was also poorly-maintained over time, and at one point near the end of the park's tenure, the third deck behind home plate had to be closed-off because it had become unsafe.

Still, the stadium had plenty of moments in the sun, thanks to fielding two fairly competitive tenants.  The fans took to both the Twins and Vikings almost right away, as the Twins had stars like slugger Harmon Killebrew, pitcher Jim Kaat and outfielder Tony Oliva, and the Vikings had QB Fran Tarkenton and their famed "Purple People Eater" defense.  The Twins made the World Series in just their fifth season in Minnesota in 1965, falling to Sandy Koufax and the L.A. Dodgers, and the Vikings were a consistent playoff team in the NFL, and played in their first Super Bowl against the Chiefs after the '69 season.  Outdoor soccer also thrived there in the '70s with the NASL's Minnesota Kicks, and in spite of the often-brutal weather conditions for Vikings games at The Met, the fans turned out in droves, and also pioneered the art of tailgating before and after games, even in the dead of winter.

Meantime, just across the parking lot, Metropolitan Sports Center opened in 1967, served as the Twin Cities' main indoor sporting venue for many years, including as the home of the NHL's expansion Minnesota North Stars.  Met Center was a no-frills arena, but was well-liked by both players and fans for its superior ice surface and great sightlines and atmosphere.  Its color scheme in the seating area was distinctive with randomly colored seats in the North Stars' green, gold and white, but on game nights you couldn't see it anyway, since all 15,000 seats were filled most of the time.  Unfortunately, by the '90s, the North Stars' owner demanded a new arena, and despite continued support from the fans of Minnesota and a Stanley Cup finals appearance in 1991, douche-bag owner Norman Green packed up the team anyway and moved them to Dallas for the 1993-94 season.  Why the team couldn't have just moved to the perfectly good new Target Center in Minneapolis (which opened in 1990) is a mystery to me.  Either way, the Met Center's fate was sealed and it never even made it to the age of 30, and was demolished in 1994.  Ironically, when they tried to implode the place, it defiantly refused to fall and they wound up razing the arena the old-fashioned way.

Met Stadium, on the other hand, more or less fell apart on its own, and the Vikings were especially vocal about wanting a new stadium by the late '70s, since the Met was then one of the smaller stadiums in the NFL.  Renovation of The Met was not an option in their eyes, and when it was all said and done, both teams moved indoors downtown to that scourge of stadium construction, the Hubert H. Humphrey Metrodome, in 1982.  While the Twins have thrived there at times, winning the World Series in 1987 and 1991, the Vikings never have been quite the same team, exchanging their mystique as the tough team that battled the snow and cold for a rather wimpy persona playing in a cushy environment.  Ironically, in their final games at the Met in 1981, both the Twins and Vikings lost to Kansas City's Royals and Chiefs, respectively.  Following that last Vikings game, fans stormed the field and tried to dismantle the stadium themselves and were fairly successful at it.  Thus, Metropolitan Stadium was a mere youngster at age 25 when it closed, having served as a Major League stadium for only 20 years.  After standing dormant and decaying rapidly (see left), Met Stadium was officially demolished in 1985 to make way for the mighty Mall of America, where they marked in bronze the location of home plate on the floor of the mall's indoor amusement park.

I never got to see the stadium in person, although the arena was still in use during a visit to Bloomington in 1985, but I have vivid memories of watching games from the Met on TV back in the '70s.  Every time the Royals played the Twins on TV, I could swear that Rod Carew always led off the game with a freakin' base hit!  The Royals could never get that bastard out, even though they were the superior team at that time.  And because of our close proximity to the Twin Cities, we got more than a few Vikings games on TV on NFL Sundays, to the point where I was rather sick of looking at Fran Tarkenton after a while.  There is an outstanding website that chronicles both the rise and decline of Met Stadium, as well as many fan recollections thereof.  The photos taken after the decaying stadium closed are especially interesting.

Things are also looking up in Twins Country too, as construction has begun on their new open-air ballpark which will open in 2010 right nextdoor to Target Center on the west side of Minneapolis.  This will right what has been a major wrong since 1982—it's an absolute crime to be playing baseball indoors on such beautiful summer evenings like they have in the upper Midwest!  As for the Vikings, they're still dilly-dallying around about a new stadium, although the latest idea has them moving in with the U. of Minnesota when their new on-campus stadium is built in a couple years until they can tear down the Metrodome and put up a new stadium with a retractable roof on the site.  I have a better idea—why not just rip the bubble dome off the Metrodome, enlarge the existing stadium and put a retractable roof on it?  Probably would be cheaper and serve the team just as well.

Motherhood?

The first and only time I ever got vanity plates on my car was back in the early '90s, but friends and strangers alike often asked me why my plates said "motherhood".  Thus, I was forced to explain that 'MOTRHD' stood for a band that I was heavily into at that time, the mighty Motorhead.  I originally tried to get 'MTRHED', but it was already taken, and thanks to the state of Missouri, we could only have six digits on vanity plates (Kansas allows seven, the bastards!).  Anyway, it was my salute to one of the most legendary and hardest-hitting heavy metal bands of all-time.

I first got into Motorhead long about 1988, thanks to MTV (of all things), and their "Headbanger's Ball" that aired every Saturday night.  They always played at least one Motorhead video each week, and the first one that caught my ear was a live performance of "Mean Machine".  The album's title caught my eye too—Orgasmatron—so I picked it up not long after that and was instantly hooked.  This was the loudest, rawest, raunchiest and heaviest record I had ever heard, and I was immediately drawn to Motorhead's founder and leader Lemmy (born Ian Kilmister).  The guy has one of the worst singing voices in the world, but for some reason, he was able to make it work with the type of music he wrote and played.  Pretty soon, I was buying up everything else the band had done up to that point, and those tapes certainly made my 53-mile commute to and from the radio station in St. Joseph during the summer of '88 a lot more fun—I still have fond memories of those early Sunday mornings after working graveyard shift screaming through the sleepy little towns along Hiway 169 in my '87 T-Bird with Lemmy and the boys cranked up full blast!

For whatever reason, I was unaware in 1988 of Motorhead's already-legendary status as metal gods via 1980's "Ace Of Spades", which is a certifiable Rock classic, as well as other gems like "Iron Fist", "Bomber" and "The Chase Is Better Than The Catch", but I quickly learned on the fly, and it wasn't long before Lemmy (so-named for his penchant for begging friends for money—"lend me a fiver", etc.) had more or less replaced Ted Nugent as my crazy surrogate Rock 'N' Roll uncle/father figure.  The dude has chrisma, isn't as arrogant (or bigoted) as Nugent, and he has a wry sense of humor in his lyrics too.  In fact, that's what really sets Motorhead apart for me compared with similar heavy metal bands—their humor and how they don't take themselves all that seriously.  Take Metallica, for instance—I've never gotten into that band, even though their music is not unlike Motorhead's sonically, because the subject matter of their songs is usually too tedious and dead-dog serious all the time.  You don't get lines like "You got a body like a Marshall stack" (from "Dr. Rock") or "Don't run, baby--don't call a cop" (from "Damage Case"), or "As we dismember you, we shall remember you" (from "Traitor") on a Metallica record.  Fuck "One", "For Whom The Bell Tolls" and "Master of Puppets"—I'll take songs like "Jailbait", "Love Me Like A Reptile" and "Killed By Death" any day over Metallica's stuff...

Lemmy, who was once a roadie for Jimi Hendrix, put Motorhead together in 1977 after leaving the band Hawkwind (taking their name from the Hawkwind song "Motorhead") and the band was initially a three-piece with Lemmy on bass and vocals, Phil "Philthy Animal" Taylor on drums and "Fast" Eddie Clarke on guitar.  Clarke left in 1982 to form the band Fastway (of "Say What You Will" fame), and was replaced by former Thin Lizzy guitarist Brian Robertson for the rather disastrous 1983 LP Another Perfect Day.  Then Lemmy completely overhauled the band in 1984, making it a four-piece with new drummer Pete Gill (formerly of Saxon) and two new guitarists, Phil Campbell and Mick Burston, who went by the name "Wurzel".  "Little Philthy" returned for 1987's Rock 'N' Roll album, and left again for good in 1992 and was replaced by Mikkey Dee.  Wurzel left after 1993's Bastards CD, and Motorhead has been a three-piece ever since, with Campbell and Dee remaining to this day.  Take notes—you'll be tested on this later...

If there's such a thing as a musical power scale that resembles a car's speedometer, my own personal musical power range would have Air Supply at the 0 end, The Partridge Family at 5, The Carpenters at 10, ABBA at 20, The Go-Go's at 35, John Hiatt at 45, The Beatles at about 55, The Stones at 60, ZZ Top at 65, The Who at 75, Van Halen at 80, Kiss at 90, W.A.S.P. at 105 and Motorhead would peg out at 120! They are as loud and testosterony as I'm liable to get—anything faster or louder (like Pantera, Slayer, et al) is just noise to me.  I saw Motorhead live back in 1999 at Roadhouse Ruby's in Olathe, or "Almost-Kansas City", as Lemmy called us, and he offered some sage advice early on in the show:  "Don't dance to this—you'll fuck your legs up!" I was deaf for two days afterward, and I fucking loved it!

Now if we could just ascertain the answer to Brother Beavis' question about Lemmy: "How come he's got those two Cocoa Puffs stuck to his cheek?"...

My all-time Motorhead Top 10
1) "Dr. Rock" (1986)
2) "On Your Feet Or On Your Knees" (1993)
3) "Traitor" (1987)
4) "Deaf Forever" (1986)
5) "Love Me Like A Reptile" (1980)
6) "Killed By Death" (1984)
7) "Bomber" (1979)
8) "Going To Brazil" (1991)
9) "Born To Raise Hell" (1993)
10) "Damage Case" (1978)

"They Died Young"--Volume I (of an occasional series)

As an aficionado of sports arenas and stadiums, I’m rather fascinated by those that had a relatively short life compared with venerable institutions like Fenway Park and Wrigley Field.  There was a time when sports venues would last 50-60 years or more, but the life expectancy for them now is much shorter.  Some arenas and stadiums are ill-conceived to begin with or become obsolete faster than others, while some just aren’t properly maintained and fall into disrepair and die before their time.  I'm rather sentimental when it comes to old stadiums and arenas, and I'm all for the preservation of them—I even feel a tinge of sadness when the crappy ones like the Kingdome in Seattle and Pittsburgh's Three Rivers Stadium are demolished—and the past two decades have brought about an unprecedented wave of new stadium construction and/or renovation.  Every team seemingly wants a new place to play every 20 years or so, and I find it rather sad sometimes when perfectly good sports venues get tossed away like old cigarette lighters, so from time to time, I’m going to feature the ones who didn't quite reach the legendary status of Chicago Stadium or Yankee Stadium, much less senility like St. Louis Arena or old Comiskey Park...

Volume I: Richfield Coliseum
The NBA’s expansion Cleveland Cavaliers played their first four seasons at the outdated and inadequate Cleveland Arena from 1970-74, but got a major upgrade when they moved to their new home, the Richfield Coliseum, a wonderful arena—that stood practically in the middle of nowhere! Thanks to a bad idea that was conceived with the best of intentions, it was decided to locate the building exactly halfway between the cities of Cleveland and Akron, with the idea being that it would draw more fans from the surrounding area of nearly five million people (nearby Canton included) because the arena was more centrally-located for everyone.  Great idea—in theory.  Not-so-great in practice...

Richfield Township is your basic bump in the road, with just a few houses and farms scattered about.  When I visited there in May, 1991, I expected to find the arena surrounded by modern suburbia, so imagine my shock when I could see the thing standing all by itself on a hill from the Interstate about two miles away as I approached.  Hell, there wasn't even a gas station or a McDonald's or anything nearby—just a hulking concrete monolith in the middle of a huge parking lot surrounded by farmland as far as the eye could see.  There were basically only two main roads to get to the Coliseum—I-271 and Streetsboro Road which intersects it, and if either of them were congested because of accidents or bad weather on event nights, things quickly turned into a clusterfuck of epic proportions.  Many’s the time events were delayed until most of the fans could get there (especially during snowstorms), and departing the facility was often a challenge as well.

 Too bad, too, because Richfield Coliseum was actually a great place to watch a sporting event.  It had great sight lines and was ahead of its time for the ‘70s with its video screens and numerous luxury suites that ringed the top of the arena, which held around 19,000 people for basketball and concerts, and a little less for hockey.  Parking was abundant too, but the main knock on the place (besides its location) was that the concourses were too small and claustrophobic on nights with big crowds—a common design flaw of ‘70s-era venues.

Frank Sinatra packed the place on its opening night in October, 1974, and fans actually did make the trek in droves to the nether world of Richfield for a few years, as the Cavs finally put a decent team on the court in the late ’70s and on into the ‘80s.  Perhaps the most famous sports moment in the Coliseum’s history was the last-second shot (oft-repeated on ESPN) made by Michael Jordan over Greg Ehlo in 1989 to beat the Cavaliers in the playoffs, after which MJ jumped around and pumped his fist triumphantly and the Chicago Bulls radio announcer screamed "THE BULLS WIN! THEY WIN IT!"  Big-league hockey had a cup of coffee in Richfield, as the NHL’s Cleveland Barons—the former California Golden Seals—transplanted from the Bay Area in 1976, and lasted only two miserable seasons before merging with the Minnesota North Stars in 1978.  But it was another team in another sport that truly kept the turnstiles spinning at Richfield Coliseum, the Major Indoor Soccer League’s Cleveland Force.  In spite of their gaudy canary yellow uniforms (see below), the Force was with Cleveland fans for over ten years during the early and mid-‘80s, at least until the novelty wore off and the team folded in 1988.

I had the pleasure of seeing two indoor soccer games at the Coliseum, and they turned out to be the final two games in the history of my beloved Kansas City Comets.  That's our man Gino Schiraldi in the above photo against the Farce, er uh, Force.  Not knowing for sure heading in that the end was near for the team (rumors had circled for months of the team's demise), I altered my original vacation plan that included an Orioles game at old Memorial Stadium in Baltimore, and I’m so glad I did.  I wound up seeing Game 6 and 7 of a rugged playoff series between the Comets and the Cleveland Crunch (who replaced the Force in 1989), and both games were thrillers, as the Comets staved off elimination in Game 6 on Thursday night by mounting a major comeback and won 8-6, and fell just short of making the MISL Championship series, losing Game 7 on Saturday 7-6.  Sadly, the Comets folded during the off-season, but at least I was there for the bitter end, and that meant a lot to me.  I never got to see a game at Memorial Stadium, either, but I guess we can’t have everything…

The end was near for Richfield Coliseum by that time too.  Attendance for Crunch games was mediocre, as it was for Cavs games (unless Jordan or Magic Johnson was in town), and it was readily apparent that the noble experiment of an arena in the boonies wasn’t working.  The Cleveland Indians were already building a new stadium downtown, and the Cavs wanted in on the gravy train, so they built their new joint, Gund Arena (now called Quicken Loans Arena—ewww), right next door to the Tribe’s Jacobs Field, thus spawning a renaissance for downtown Cleve-Land that I’d like to see Kansas City duplicate with the new Sprint Center.  Meanwhile, Richfield Coliseum closed in 1994—at the tender age of 20.  After standing dormant for about five years, the building was demolished in 1999 in a rather unique way—the arena was knocked down bit-by-bit (see photos below), and almost literally buried in its own basement and covered, and the land was returned to its original bucolic splendor.  During a visit there last fall, I could barely even make out where the place used to stand.  But it's not all bad in Richfield today—they do have a McDonald’s now...

Start counting the days, folks!

As of tomorrow, only 600 more days until this (literally) bloody administration is ovah! Why do I have a bad feeling the worst is still yet to come, tho?

A-S-I-N-I-N-E
That’s my humble opinion of the overblown coverage ESPN and ABC are giving today’s National Spelling Bee event—they’re covering the damn thing like it’s Game 7 of the World Series.  First off, just like poker, spelling is not a sport!  It sure doesn’t belong on ESPN—seems to me the Learning Channel might be more appropriate for a spelling bee, but they’re too busy airing such "educational" fare as "American Chopper".  I also think it’s pathetic the way the networks exploit these kids just for ratings on shows like this.

Just as an aside, I nearly won a spelling bee once, finishing second in the mighty 1975 all-5th-grade spelling bee at my school.  It came down to me and a kid from the class across the hall, and I tripped up on the word superfluous.  I got the spelling right, but we also had to define the word, and I didn’t quite nail the definition.  Some of my classmates were actually more upset than I was that I lost—they thought I got screwed on a technicality.  Oh well, fuck it—first prize was just a lousy ribbon anyway, so I got over it...

SHUT UP, KOBE!
I’m already sick of hearing L.A. Lakers superstar Kobe Bryant bitching and whining about wanting to be traded (or not wanting to be traded, depending on which way the wind is blowing).  I lost all respect for this fucker anyway during his rape trial in Colorado a few years ago.  I know he wasn’t convicted there, but if nothing else, it proved that he’s a first-class asshole, and it’s schmucks like him and Shaq that really have turned me off toward the NBA.  I used to love the NBA when I was a kid (even before the Kings came to town), but now I couldn’t even tell you when the last time was I actually sat through an entire NBA game on TV from start to finish because they’re so fucking boring.  I can still watch college basketball until the cows come home if it’s a team I care about or if it’s the NCAA Tournament or Big 12 Tournament, but the NBA is more sleep-inducing than Sominex and Don Imus put together...

CLASSIC MISHEARD LYRIC #33
"Hair Of The Dog"--NAZARETH (1975) "Heartbreaker, soul shaker..." I, like many other listeners, thought it went "Heartbreaker, salt shaker..."!

WON’T THEY EVER LEARN?
Speaking of NBA assholes that I can really do without, Dallas Mavericks owner Mark Cuban says he’s trying to recruit several other billionaires to help form a new football league that would play games on Friday nights in the fall and compete directly against the NFL.  What makes him think they’re going to be any more successful than the previous attempts to rival the NFL that failed miserably?  Let’s see, the old WFL lasted two seasons in the '70s, the USFL lasted three seasons in the '80s, and the dreaded XFL lasted one whole year earlier this decade—that’s six full seasons between the three leagues.  The only league that was able to match the NFL stride-for-stride for any length of time was the AFL in the ‘60s, and that was mostly because there were only 12 teams in the NFL when Lamar Hunt conceived of the AFL (and two of those were in Chicago until the Cardinals moved to St. Louis), so there was far more demand for teams than there is now with 32 teams in the NFL.  I also remember a proposed league about ten years or so ago called the Professional Spring Football League (the Pissful?), but it never got past the planning stages, as the potential owners realized they were pissing in the wind and said Fuhgeddaboutit.  Then again, it'd almost be worth it to see Mr. Cuban lose his shirt over it...

My General Moody-ness

I'm not generally a big fan of "Progressive" Rock bands in general, but one Prog Rock band that truly honks my hooter is the Moody Blues, victims of quite possibly the biggest snubbing of all-time by the vaunted Rock 'N' Roll Hall of Fame.  Some people consider the Moodies to be too lightweight or too high-brow or too mellow, while many aging hippies merely considered them to be great music to get high by back in the day, but they are a very important band in Rock history, and a band whose body of work (particularly their '60s and early '70s output) continues to grow on me after each listen.

The Moody Blues are also unique in that they started off as a Pop band during the British Invasion, scoring a hit in 1965 with "Go Now!", sung by future Paul McCartney co-hort Denny Laine, but they quickly fizzled out after that, and were on the verge of breaking up at one point.  Laine and their original bassist, the late Clint Warwick, left the band and were replaced by bassist John Lodge and guitarist Justin Hayward, the latter of whom nearly joined Eric Burdon and The Animals—good gracious, how that move would have altered music history in unfathomable ways!  They tried to carry on playing the same old Pop clap-trap, but soon realized they were destined for bigger and better things, and one thing led to another, thus they wound up making the landmark album Days Of Future Passed, which was initially intended by the record company to merely demonstrate the newly-emerging stereo format for vinyl records.  Days was such a wildly successful record amongst both the critics and the fans that the record company gave the Moody Blues free reign and unprecedented latitude to make their next album, and from then on, they enjoyed incredible artistic freedom for a British Rock band in the late '60s.

It's easy to only think of Justin Hayward's songs when you think of the Moody Blues because he sings on most of their big hits (esp. during the '80s), but it was only recently that I came to realize the unsung contributions that former Moodies Mike Pinder and Ray Thomas brought to this band.  Pinder was a wizard on the keyboards, and pioneered the use of the mellotron in Rock music.  The mellotron was a rather cantankerous instrument that used tape loops to sample different sounds like strings and horns and such.  Elton John's Goodbye Yellow Brick Road LP features quite a bit of mellotron on it, and even Lynyrd Skynyrd used one on "Tuesday's Gone" (very noticeable during the extended solo in the middle of that song), and Pinder used it to make the Moody Blues sound like they were backed by a full orchestra on their records, like on tracks such as "Gypsy (Of A Strange And Distant Time)", "The Actor" and even "I'm Just A Singer (In A Rock 'N' Roll Band)".  Also, Pinder's is the voice you hear reciting the "Late Lament" poem at the end of "Nights In White Satin".

Meantime, multi-tasker and fan favorite Ray Thomas played the flute, sax, and various percussion instruments and provided amazing backing vocals along with the occasional lead vocal, like on his signature song "Legend Of A Mind" (aka, "Timothy Leary's Dead", to those aforementioned aging hippies).  If you ever want to hear a really mesmerizing backing vocal performance, check out Brother Ray on "The Actor" from In Search Of The Lost Chord as his haunting falsetto just floods the background during the choruses of the song, giving it a wonderful trippy-ness that you don't even need to smoke a joint to enjoy.  Ray's backing vocals are also very prominent on "Nights In White Satin" and "The Story In Your Eyes", among many others.

The Moody Blues pretty much hit the wall in early 1973 following a concert tour, exhausted from their prodigious output of seven albums in a little over five years.  The band took a break and they each pursued solo projects (Lodge and Hayward worked together on a successful album called Blue Jays in 1975), and when the Moodies reconvened in late 1977, Pinder's heart was no longer in the group, so he departed after the recording of 1978's semi-successful comeback album Octave.  The comeback was completed on 1981's Long Distance Voyager, with former Yes keyboardist Patrick Moraz replacing Pinder, and his contribution was immediately noticeable on the track "Gemini Dream".  Moraz remained with the band throughout the '80s, but curiously he barely even rated a mention in their 1993 box set Time Traveller, where he's credited as "additional keyboards", even though at the time Moraz was considered a full-fledged member of the group and appeared in all their videos.

I have to say that I enjoyed the Moody Blues' '80s music at that time, but as I listen to it now, stuff like "Your Wildest Dreams" and "I Know You're Out There Somewhere" pales in comparison to their '60s and early '70s catalog.  By the '80s, they were under record company pressure to churn out hit singles instead of cohesive albums, which were far less satisfying.  They continue to tour to this day (usually with an orchestra in tow every other tour), and what a coincidence—their set list leans heavily on those first seven albums.  Sadly, Ray Thomas was forced to retire about five years ago because of health issues, having already been relegated to tambourine duty on stage for many years—except during "Legend Of A Mind", where he usually brought the house down—but Lodge, Hayward, and drummer Graeme Edge continue to soldier on.  Not unlike with Cheap Trick, it depends on what night you catch the Moodies as to what live band you get.  In beer parlance, some nights are Michelob Ultra, while others are watered-down Miller Lite.

There are a ton of Moody Blues greatest hits compilation CDs out there, but none of them really do the band justice, apart from the box set.  Better yet, I suggest just investing in those first seven albums on CD (all remastered now too) and a good set of headphones, then just kick back and enjoy...


And you know damn well a band is important if they make a cameo appearance on "The Simpsons".  D'oh!!











My All-Time Moody Blues Top 10:
1) "I'm Just A Singer (In A Rock 'N' Roll Band)" (1972)
2) "The Story In Your Eyes" (1971)
3) "Legend Of A Mind" (1968)
4) "Tuesday Afternoon" (1967)
5) "Question" (1970)
6) "The Actor" (1968)
7) "Nights In White Satin" (1967)
8) "Lovely To See You" (1969)
9) "You And Me" (1972)
10) "Gypsy (In A Strange And Distant Time") (1969)

I know you are, but what am I?

I’ve been reading a lot lately in the papers and on the Internet about who’s who and what’s what in terms of politics, and I’m desperately trying to find my own place in all of this.  I’m so sick of reading “Liberals would have you believe…” in columns written by the likes of Malkin, Goldberg, Hannity, et al, and “Conservatives would have you believe…” columns written by Franken, Gore, et al, and all the “Hooray for OUR side,” histrionics, thereof.  Thus, I’m asking for YOUR help, gentle readers.  I know I’m definitely NOT a conservative—but I’m not so sure I’m a full-blown liberal, either.  So, YOU be the judge (especially those of you who know me fairly well)—YOU tell me what the fuck I am, based on the following…

I am conservative in that I:
—don’t believe in government handouts…
—don’t quite believe in everything the ACLU stands for, especially standing up for the rights of human turds like the Rev. Fred Phelps and all the vitriolic hatred that man tries to spread, nor do I think that all the serial killers should go free, as per what some factions of the ACLU might say…
—don’t approve of “affirmative action” hiring practices (having been denied a job I really wanted once because of it)…
—don’t believe in this whole “Global Warming” shtick that Al Gore is trying to promote, nor am I buying any of this fashionable “going green” crappola…
—would like to see a tad more modesty in terms of women's fashions, and can do without tattoos and body piercings (other than ears)…
—am tired of Hollywood-types like Brad Pitt, Angelina Jolie, Madonna, et al, adopting foreign children because it's so en vogue to do so…
—feel that Al Franken is just as big an idiot as Rush Limbaugh is.  Ditto for Rosie O’Donnell…
—don’t approve of out-of-wedlock births…
—am in favor of the death penalty…
—am not all that crazy about interracial marriage/relationships…
—am resistant to change, i.e., I don't own a cell phone…
—think Tom Cruise and all the Scientologists are nut-jobs…

I am liberal in that I:
—take things on a case-by-case basis, instead of stating an opinion simply because “that's what my side dictates"…
—think that the Bush Administration is a total fucking joke…
—am totally willing to admit a mistake when I make or say one…
—hate Fox News Channel, Rush Limbaugh, Bill O'Reilly, et al, with a passion...
—hate the “Religious Right” and the oppression it stands for…
—don’t believe that Jewish people control all the money in the world…
—am okay with gay people and their right to exist in our country and do whatever they want behind closed doors (just don't do it in front of me, okay?)…
--believe in religious freedom and especially the right to choose NOT to be religious…
—could really do without the NRA…
—don’t believe that Ronald Reagan was the be-all/end-all President of our generation...
—don’t believe in government censorship of music (i.e., Tipper Gore and the dreaded P.M.R.C.)…
—believe the Electoral College should be abolished…
—am pro-choice…

Your thoughts will be most appreciated and duly noted...

Sunday evening comin' down...

HI-HO, THE DARIO?
Racer Dario Franchitti (pronounced 'fran-KEET-ee') won the rain-shortened Indy 500 today.  Why shorten it, I ask?  Why not run it even when it rains and make it a real challenge?  Not that driving at 225 MPH-plus on a dry track isn't already a challenge, huh?  Okay, I'm kidding, but I did find it rather humorous when pole-sitter and two-time Indy 500 winner Helio Castroneves couldn't get his car started right away today.  As F.G. Sanford used to warn, "Pull out the choke or it won't start..."

I keep telling myself I'm going to actually attend the big race in person someday, but I have yet to do so, although I did attend a practice session for 500 once, and I highly recommend a visit to the track if you're ever in the Indianapolis area.  The raceway itself ain't much to look at on the outside—sorta like an oversized high school football stadium—but on the inside it's well worth a look.  It's been about 15 years or so since I was there, but unless they've changed things a lot, you get to take a ride around the track in a small bus, and the museum there is top-notch.  Not terribly expensive, either, as I recall.  In fact, the entire city of Indianapolis is a fun and underrated place to visit, if you get the chance.

DO YOU RECOGNIZE THIS MAN?
My K.C. friends who watched local kids' TV shows in the '70s and late-night programming the early '80s might.  Why, it's none other than "Uncle Ed" Muscare, host of Channel 41's "Treehouse Lane" and later the first incarnation of "All Night Live".  And guess what, folks?  He's officially registered in several states as a sex offender!  I'd heard rumors for years about him being a Major League pervert, and evidently they were true.  Based on that photo, he kinda lives up to his name, Muscare, don't he?  Makes me feel violated...

"HOPPIN' AND A-BOPPIN' WITH A SPACED-OUT CROWD...
...Top 10 music playin' way too loud." That lyric from the Nick Lowe-penned Dave Edmunds song "What Did I Do Last Night?" succinctly sums up the gig I attended this evening with some friends at a local club.  Problem was, the bass was so fucking loud that even with earplugs, I still have a headache.  There's loud and then there's stupid-loud.  The headliner was a Chicago band called Kill Hannah, who kinda sounded to me like a cross between Green Day and A Flock of Seagulls, and they weren't too bad, really, nor were the first two bands that opened the show, Flee The Seen and Five-Star Crash.  It was the third band (whose name I didn't catch) that I was least impressed with—you want to talk about incoherent White Trash noise?  They were it.  We have been slimed...

I've been out of the loop for a while when it comes to club gigs, but I seem to remember a time when the crowd would raise their Bic lighters on high to salute the band—now they raise their camera phones instead.  Just as well, I guess—I fit in with the tattoo-and-lip-piercings crowd about like Kid Rock (or Chris Rock) would at an Osmond family reunion anyway.  I was the only one there wearing royal blue, but I didn't stand out nearly as much as this late-40-something character who went prancing and dancing around the whole place wearing a Sponge Bob Square Pants poncho and matching canary yellow tights—thus making him Sponge Bob No Pants, actually.  Why do I have a bad feeling this goomer is an elementary school teacher or a relative of Uncle Ed...

Oh well, at least I got out of the house for a little while, which is something I needed anyway...

CLASSIC MISHEARD LYRIC #32
"I'm Just A Singer (In A Rock 'N' Roll Band')--THE MOODY BLUES (1972) "Teaching so many people, bridging the seas."  Dopey me, I always thought those poor people were "really diseased"!

AND FINALLY...
Happy 46th birthday to actress Peri Gilpin, better known as Roz Doyle on TV's "Frasier".  I have to admit I was always a sucker for Jane Leeves and her flaming red hair and British accent as Daphne on "Frasier" (not to mention her legs), but the more I watched the show, the more the Roz character grew on me over time, and what heterosexual guy out there isn't more than a little attracted to this woman's sexy voice?  And, oh by the way, she's rather pretty too, even when she's not dressed as Wonder Woman, although I'm loathe to admit to having a few dirty dreams about her in that get-up...

Don't bury the Hatchet!

It be time to salute my 2nd-favorite Southern Rock band of all-time whilst I track through them on the ol' CD player, Molly Hatchet.  Not unlike with Lynyrd Skynyrd, I was initially put-off by the band's macho biker-bar brawler image, but this band grew on me rather quickly during my freshman year in High School when their first two albums received heavy airplay on the mighty KY-102 circa 1979-80.

I have to admit I actually hated Hatchet's first hit song, "Dreams I'll Never See" initially (a complete overhaul of the Allman Bros.' song "Dreams"), but boy do I feel stupid now—this song is fucking great!  The rest of that first MH album rules too, with tracks like "Gator Country", "Bounty Hunter" and "The Price You Pay", and the second album was even better.  Flirtin' With Disaster was one of the finer sophomore efforts of any band, and Hatchet secured their place in history with tunes like the title track, "Whiskey Man" (not to be confused with The Who's song of the same name), "Jukin' City", "It's All Over Now" (also done by the Stones in 1964) and the "Free Bird"-like "Boogie No More", which nearly put Lynyrd Skynyrd's triple-lead guitar attack to shame.

Hatchet did indeed feature three pretty damn good guitarists—Dave Hlubek, Duane Roland and Steve Holland (no relation to me)—as well as lead singer Danny Joe Brown, whose distinctive growl was the band's trademark.  After Flirtin', Brown had issues with the band's management—"There were too many hands in the till," he once remarked—so he left Hatchet (who transparently blamed DJB's departure on his bout with diabetes) and was replaced by singer Jimmy Farrar for their next two albums, Beatin' The Odds and Take No Prisoners.  Nice guy and a decent singer—he would have fit in perfectly with say, Marshall Tucker Band—but Farrar was rather bland compared with his predecessor, although he did sing on one really cool song, 1981's "Bloody Reunion".  MH wisely brought Danny Joe back into the fold for 1983's No Guts...No Glory, which is my personal favorite Hatchet album.  I literally wore out the cassette copy I had of that one driving back-and-forth to college during the Fall of '83, and just loved tracks like "What's It Gonna Take?", "What Does It Matter?", "Ain't Even Close" and yet another "Free Bird" clone, "Fall Of The Peacemakers", which solemnly reflected on the deaths of John Lennon and John F. Kennedy, and featured splendid lead guitar work throughout.

Molly Hatchet even landed on MTV during this time with videos lifted from No Guts, as well as from the follow-up album, 1984's The Deed Is Done, which featured hits like "Satisfied Man" and "Stone In Your Heart".  A live album followed in 1985—Hatchet's final recording for Epic Records—and the band later resurfaced in 1989 on Capitol Records with the excellent, but sadly-overlooked Lightning Strikes Twice, featuring the humorous opening track "Take Miss Lucy Home" and a rather touching closing song called "Heart Of My Soul".  This was more or less the last hurrah for this band, even though they've recorded off and on since then, having endured numerous personnel changes over the years.  The current touring outfit that goes by the name Molly Hatchet contains no original members of the band, and seems more like a tribute band than anything else.  Singer Danny Joe Brown died in 2005 and guitarist Duane Roland passed away just shy of a year ago.  Rest in peace, gentlemen...

My All-Time Molly Hatchet Top 10:

1) "Boogie No More" (1979)

2) "Fall Of The Peacemakers" (1983)

3) "Flirtin' With Disaster" (1979)

4) "Bloody Reunion" (1981)

5) "What's It Gonna Take? (1983)

6) "Bounty Hunter" (1978)

7) "Heart Of My Soul" (1989)

8) "Jukin' City" (1979)

9) "Ain't Even Close" (1983)

10) "Dreams I'll Never See" (1978)

And while I'm at it,

MY ALL-TIME FAVORITE SOUTHERN ROCK BANDS:

1) Black Oak Arkansas

2) Molly Hatchet

3) Lynyrd Skynyrd

4) The Allman Brothers

5) .38 Special

6) Charlie Daniels Band

7) The Outlaws

8) Marshall Tucker Band

9) Ozark Mountain Daredevils

10) Blackfoot

Friday Night (Hi)Lights

DERF RULES!
I just love this guy's comic strips, and there ain't a damn thing I can say to top this one!  You have done well, Young Grasshopper...

TAKE YOUR TIME, FELLAS...
I saw an ad in the paper today about a band called 90 Minutes—"A tribute to the '90s".  I doubt they'll even need that much time to cover that which was good music during the wretched decade that gave us the likes of Nirvana, Pearl Jam and Dishwalla.  30 Minutes should easily suffice...

BOO—RED STRIPE BEER ADS!
Have you seen any of these dreadful commercials?  Do they make you want to run out and buy their beer?  Not me...

I HAVE A BAD FEELING ABOUT THIS...
Can you believe it was 30 years ago today that the original Star Wars was unleashed to the masses?  30 bloody years, already?  Somehow, I can't help but feel just a tad old now.  A little trivia for you, btw—the above phrase in bold was uttered by a different character in all six of the Star Wars flicks.  With us, The Force has been, says Master Yoda...

TRULY HONORABLE?
Anyone catch the 2nd-annual "VH-1 Rock Honors" show last night?  If not, relax—it'll air again on VH-1 Classic about as often as Rosie O'Donnell, Ann Coulter or Michelle Malkin says something stupid, so don't worry.  Great concept, actually—it's sort of a slap in the face to the Rock 'N' Roll Hall of Fame in that they mostly salute great bands who've been snubbed by said institution so far—last year's honorees included Def Leppard, Judas Priest, Kiss and Queen (although Queen's already in the HOF)—and this time they had a rather eclectic mix:  Heart, Genesis, Ozzy Osbourne and ZZ Top (also already in the HOF).  The show featured live performances by each band, but in best "Dick Clark's New Year's Rockin' Eve" tradition, the event was taped a few weeks back at the Mandalay Bay casino arena in Vegas, along with "tribute" performances by bands like Alice In Chains and other current nobodies, plus introductions by Hollywood types like Billy Bob Thornton, Cameron Diaz and Robin Williams, et al.

Don't mean to bitch too much, but I'd much rather see more live performances from the groups being honored, and less of all this ancillary crap VH-1 insists on airing.  And couldn't they at least find a more credible emcee for the damn thing?  This year's event was hosted by one Bam Margera, that venerable skateboard personality famous for appearing in Jackass-The Movie—a guy who isn't even old enough (born 1979) to remember when Ozzy bit the head off the canary, let alone remember when Ann Wilson was thin.  Last year's hostess, Jaime Pressly, wasn't much better—she ain't even old enough to remember when Kiss took off the make-up or when Def Leppard's Rick Allen still had two arms.  Hell, they had Mark Goodman from the old MTV days doing backstage interviews throughout—he'd make a more appropriate host than those other 20-something twits.  Nice try, VH-1, but methinks you can do better...

Whole lotta bloggin' goin' on...

JUST CHILL, HERM!I’m beginning to wonder if Chiefs head coach Herman Edwards truly is the right man for the job.  When the team first hired him, I was excited by his track record of getting a mediocre franchise like the Jets to the playoffs more than once, but after just one season here in K.C., I’m a bit dismayed at how easily he gets riled up by our local media.  He caused a fairly big stink yesterday during the team’s O.T.A.’s by accusing a local radio sports talk host of calling him a liar (based on what another player told him) regarding the whole Trent Green situation, even though Edwards himself hadn’t even listened to the tape of the show, during which the host in question did NOT call Edwards a liar, or anything of the sort.  Then in the same conversation, Herm went on to say, “This (the Trent Green saga) is not a distraction in any stretch of the imagination.”  Uhhh, Herm, it obviously IS a distraction, if you’re getting your panties all in a wad over it!  And frankly, he and Pres/GM Carl Peterson are fair game to be questioned for the way they’ve handled this Trent Green thing, too.

He also said, “Are you kidding me?  It’s the offseason.”  Precisely the point, Herm—we’re still over two months away from training camp, and you’re letting the Kansas City sports media get to you before Memorial Day?  Hell, he’s already coached in the biggest media hotbed in the world (New York) and he played in what has to be the roughest sports market in terms of abuse heaped on someone by both the media and fans alike (Philadelphia)—you’d think our little Midwestern metropolis would be a breeze for him to handle, and I find it troubling that he’s so thinned-skinned over petty stuff like this.

This isn’t an isolated incident, either—Herm has this annoying habit when he’s in front of the media of getting all defensive over little stuff, then he starts pontificating about himself and what he believes in, and I honestly believe he just likes to hear himself talk smack.  You get a lot of this “I’m a man,” (yes, we can see that, Herm) and “I was hired to coach,” (yes, we know, Herm) and “I’m here to coach players,” (right—we get that, Herm), and it just turns into a big mumble-jumble of jive-ass double-talk to me.  Don’t get me wrong:  I think he means well, and Herman Edwards has the potential to be a really great coach in the NFL, if he doesn’t allow his fragile ego to be his own downfall...

EAT STEAK! EAT STEAK!
In a rather delicious irony, I just noticed that über-vegetarian/animal rights activist Paul McCartney resides alphabetically in my CD collection right next to none other than Meat Loaf!  Oh well, if it’ll make Sir Paul feel any better, I have amended my “Still Pissed At Yoko” bumper sticker to read “Still Pissed At Heather”…

SUE ME, SUE YOU BLUES—THE CONTINUING SAGA
Seems that the father of late Cardinals pitcher Josh Hancock is suing everyone he can think of that might have even remotely contributed to his son’s death last month, including Mike Shannon’s Restaurant (where Josh tied one on), the tow truck driver whose truck Hancock plowed into whilst he was driving more than a little intoxicated, and even the poor soul who had the unmitigated gall to have a stalled car on the highway.  Yet another example of people who can’t quite bring themselves to accept responsibility for their own actions (or in this case, a fallen family member’s actions), so their solution is to sue everyone and try to make a buck off the whole thing.  According to Mr. Hancock's lawyer, "It's understood that for the entire 3½ hours that Josh Hancock was there that he was handed drinks...It's our understanding that from the moment Josh Hancock entered Mike Shannon's that night that he was never without a drink."  Hmmm, and I suppose the people at Mike Shannon's conspired to get the guy drunk—and that he never ASKED for any of those drinks that were "handed" to him, huh?  Yeah, right...

Hey, Papa Hancock—with all due respect to the painful loss you and your family have suffered—did it ever occur to you that your son might have been just a little involved in his own demise?  Based on what we now know, it’s pretty obvious that your son had a drinking problem prior to that night and I doubt seriously that Josh was dragged kicking and screaming into Mike Shannon’s in the first place.  And I suppose the marijuana that was found in Josh's vehicle was also just "handed" to him, huh?  Do you plan to sue the local drug dealers, too?  If anything, the tow truck driver and the motorists who shared I-64 with Josh that night should be suing YOU and your son's estate, Mr. Hancock, for his negligence in putting them in danger by being a stupid fuck and driving drunk off his ass.  

Actually, I hope to hell you win this lawsuit, Mr. Hancock—it'll make things so much easier for me to sue the credit card people for putting me so deep in debt!  While I'm at it, maybe I'll sue Wendy's for making me fat, too.  As A. Bunker once said, "Let's hear it for the legal profession, Little Girl." [Insert Bronx cheer here]

JUST TAKE ME NOW, I’VE TRULY SEEN IT ALL…
Not that I needed any further proof that "Reverend" Fred Phelps and his Westboro Baptist “Church” congregation are all several fries shy of the proverbial Happy Meal of Life, but it seems that his merry band of hate-mongers actually picketed Jerry Falwell’s funeral the other day because they think he was “a friend of gays.”  Huh?!?  Did I miss a memo somewhere along the line?  Other than Phelps himself, was Jerry Falwell not America's penultimate gay basher—the Muhammad Ali, Babe Ruth and Tiger Woods of homophobia, all rolled into one?  And yet, these Neolithic dipshits claim he was gay-friendly?  Someone needs to explain this one to me like I’m a three-year-old.  And to think I found that whole Tinky-Winky thing with Falwell to be ludicrous…
 It’s walking/talking feces like Phelps and his congregation (which is comprised mostly of his extended family, some of whom may well be their own fathers, for all we know) that make me truly wish that birth control was retroactive.  I'm embarrassed to be in the same species with these mongoloids.  For the uninitiated out there, these churlish and warped individuals apparently have nothing better to do with their miserable fucking lives but to spread hatred and vitriol by picketing funerals of not only gay people, but those of U.S. soldiers who died while indirectly defending their right to picket said funerals, all because they claim our country harbors homosexuals.  Hell, they even picketed Billy Graham’s crusade here at Arrowhead Stadium a couple years back (see pic)—evidently that ol’ anti-Semitic homophobe Rev. Billy G. is an infidel in the eyes of these whackos!  As screwy as these losers are, it wouldn’t surprise me one bit if they picket each other's funerals when a member of their own flock dies…

Far be it for a card-carrying agnostic like me to defend organized religion, but Phelps and Co. give legitmate Christianity a bad name.  What I find especially disturbing is how they involve their children in all this ugliness (see pic again)—it’s a subtle form of child abuse, when you get right down to it.  I would be truly impressed if religious leaders out there—the Baptists in particular—would loudly denounce this S.O.B. by saying, “Okay, we may not condone homosexuality, but this is NOT what we’re about.”  I’m also curious where Phelps and his family get the money to enable them to travel to all these funerals they protest at.  Topeka, KS (their home base) to Lynchburg, VA is a two-day road trip by car, for example, and they constantly travel coast-to-coast to spread their venom.  I also wonder just how much these "people" truly have to hate themselves in order to be so hateful toward others.

I've also never understood these "God-fearing Christians", either—I don't get the concept of worshipping a deity you're afraid of.  And, I'm fairly confident that if there really is a God, He wouldn't send a messenger like Fred Phelps to spread His word.  In the words of Twisted Sister, "If that's your best, your best won't do..."

Talk is Cheap!

I'm currently in a bit of a lull in my A-Z CD trek, as in between Lynyrd Skynyrd and Paul McCartney, there ain't a whole lot of pure Rock to track thru with the likes of Madonna, the Manhattan Transfer, Barry Manilow (oh, shut up!) and Johnny Mathis, so I'll take care of some old business and jabber about a longtime favorite band of mine that I neglected to discuss back when I played them a couple months ago, the pride of Rockford, Illinois: Cheap Trick. Yet another outstanding band that's been snubbed by the Crock 'N' Roll Hall of Fame, C.T. is not only a fan favorite, but for the most part also highly praised by the critics for their body of work.  I would submit that their output is every bit as prolific and relevant as that of Blondie and the Pretenders—both decent groups, but both rather overrated in my book—yet they're in the Hall already.  To HOF people, I hereby quote the great prophet Mike Damone in Fast Times At Ridgemont High:  "Can you honestly tell me you forgot?  Forgot the magnetism of Robin Zander, or the charisma of Rick Nielsen?"  Evidently, they have...

Not unlike with Journey, I actually prefer Cheap Trick's "B-stuff" over their big hits.  "Dream Police", "Surrender" and "I Want You To Want Me" are all great songs, and "The Flame" may well be the greatest power-ballad of all-time, but there is so much more good stuff to behold here.  Songs like "Never Had A Lot To Lose" (the story of my life), "He's A Whore", "Clock Strikes Ten", "The House Is Rockin' (With Domestic Problems)" and "Tonight It's You" are frequent flyers on my CD player.  "Stiff Competition" is another favorite, with the line "I screw you/you screw me/they screw us/here we go again..." (words to live by), as is the overlooked power chord-laden "All Wound Up" from 1988's Lap of Luxury. AND, apart from Elton John's "I Think I'm Gonna Kill Myself", C.T.'s "Auf Wiedersehen" has to be the funniest song ever written about suicide.  Their cover versions of "Day Tripper", "Ain't That A Shame" and "Don't Be Cruel" certainly don't suck either...

As dandy as their records are, seeing Cheap Trick live in concert is a bit of a crapshoot.  Some nights they are the greatest Rock 'N' Roll band in the world, and other nights, they just phone it in, and I've witnessed both extremes.  I saw them in 1988 as part of what might have been the strangest triple bill ever concocted—the Moody Blues, Cheap Trick and Glass Tiger (remember them?)—and Trick was the superior band that night.  Then a few years later, I saw them open for R.E.O. Speedwagon, and they half-heartedly played nine songs and left.  It depends on what night you catch them as to what you get, I suppose.

Musicianship-wise, this band is top-notch.  Tom Petersson is my second-favorite living bass player (just behind Rush's Geddy Lee), and anyone with the balls to play a 12-string bass is alright in my book—even Entwistle never played more than eight strings at a time.  Brad Carlson—aka Bun E. Carlos—is as solid a drummer as you'll find anywhere, Robin Zander is an underrated vocalist, and there ain't no denying what a great guitarist Rick Nielsen is—it's a shame that his Pee Wee Herman-ish persona detracts from that sometimes.  Then again, I love the quote I once read back in the '70s about the band where someone said, "Two of them look like Rock stars, and the other two look like wrecked trucks!"

My All-Time Cheap Trick Top 10
1) "All Wound Up" (1988)
2) "Still Competition" (1978)
3) "He's A Whore" (1976)
4) "Never Had A Lot To Lose" (1988)
5) "She's Tight" (1982)
6) "Tonight It's You" (1985)
7) "Auf Wiedersehen" (1978)
8) "Clock Strikes Ten" [Live] (1979)
9) "The House Is Rockin' (With Domestic Problems)" (1979)
10) "Stop This Game" (1980)

"Let's play some ol' Honk!"

Spent most of my day Sunday listening to my Lynyrd Skynyrd CD collection, and each time I do so, they sound just a little better to me.  For a long time, I was pretty ambivalent about Skynyrd—I liked some of their stuff, and of course, "Free Bird" is monumental, but I was rather turned-off by the brawling biker-bar mentality that the band projected for so long.  But, when I looked a little deeper and learned more about the group, I discovered there was a lot more to them than I realized, lead singer Ronnie Van Zant, especially.  Far from the arrogant macho gun-toting redneck I pictured him to be, R.V.Z. was rather a fairly ordinary guy who actually shunned the limelight and disdained being famous—just as the song "Don’t Ask Me No Questions" says—and he seemed like the kind of guy you’d love to sit down and have a few beers with and just shoot the shit.  He was well spoken and a better wordsmith than I initially gave him credit for, and it’s not so hard to see why Ronnie was so well respected by his Southern Rock peers.

The rest of the band was full of characters too, like late bassist Leon Wilkeson, known as "The Mad Hatter" for his humorous onstage headgear, and a very underrated lead guitar player, the late Allen Collins.  The addition of the late Steve Gaines on guitar in '76 gave Skynyrd a much-needed shot in the arm following a couple so-so albums, and he brought a new dimension to the band on what I think was their best album, Street Survivors.  You can hear him prominently on tracks like "That Smell" and "I Know A Little", and that’s him sharing vocals with Van Zant on "You Got That Right", and he seemed to breathe new life into the band and they were on the upswing again until that fateful day, October 20, 1977.  During that time, I was just starting to embrace Album Rock radio after basically growing up on Top 40 stations, and I just happened to be tuned in to the old KY-102 that night when the DJ—I want to say it was Ray Sherman—broke the terrible news.  I also clearly remember the next night and Walter Cronkite’s fairly infamous gaffe, "Three members of the Rock group Len-yerd Skin-yerd died yesterday…" on the "CBS Evening News".  Unquestionably, it was one of the worst tragedies in Rock history...

I do have a couple lingering issues with Lynyrd Skynyrd, though, namely the way keyboardist Billy Powell embellished the plane crash aftermath story on VH-1’s "Behind The Music" when he claimed that Ronnie Van Zant "didn’t have a mark on him" (not true—he died from massive head injuries) and that background singer Cassie Gaines "died in my arms, and in Artimus Pyle’s arms" and that her neck was slit from one side to the other (again, neither claim is true—it would have been impossible for her to die in drummer Artimus Pyle’s arms, since he left the scene to summon help, nor was her neck slit).  I also think it was very low-rent of the band to basically throw Pyle under the bus several years ago when he was wrongly-accused of doing inappropriate things with an underage girl—they basically wanted no more to do with him when the allegations came out and kicked him out of the band, although he was later cleared of the charges but his reputation was ruined—not cool!  Pretty disappointing for a band that prides itself on being like a family, too.  I also have a problem with Van Zant’s widow, Judy, who owns and controls the band’s interests, for selling out and putting their music on TV ads to help Col. Sanders sell chicken.  Thanks to this, I now can’t hear the intro to "Sweet Home Alabama" without also hearing that annoying beedle-beedle-beedle sound effect that KFC dubbed over it.

My Lynyrd Skynyrd Top-10 of All-Time:

1) "Free Bird" (1973)
2) "Call Me The Breeze" (1974)
3) "That Smell" (1977)
4) "You Got That Right" (1977)
5) "Gimme Three Steps" (1973)
6) "Tuesday’s Gone" (1973)
7) "Saturday Night Special" (1975)
8) "Don’t Ask Me No Questions" (1974)
9) "The Needle And The Spoon" (1975)
10) "What’s Your Name?" (1977)

And now a word...

...from our sponsors. Don't fuck with da ferret!


















Come to think of it, he does look like a little European film director, but for some reason, he doesn't really look like this guy...

Meet the new Ballpark--Same as the old Ballpark

Well, not quite the same, but these are the latest renderings of the upcoming renovation of Kauffman Stadium, and I'm very impressed.  The changes are mostly confined to the concourses and the outfield area, yet the essence of the ballpark will be largely maintained.  The changes will be implemented in stages over the next three off-seasons, and completed in time for the 2010 season.  There are more renderings at the Royals official website.  AND—MLB announced that K.C. has been awarded the All-Star Game sometime between 2010 and 2014—Sweet!

I heard on the radio today that the Chiefs will announce their official plans for the renovation of Arrowhead Stadium in another month or so...


Oh, by the way, to those of you that are still bitching because you ain't getting your new downtown ballpark in K.C.—get over it!!  WE the people voted to insure that two of the coolest sports stadiums on the planet will remain on the planet!  I said this a year ago following the vote, and I'll say it again:  We don't need no stinking new stadiums!

Another blog, another Sunday...

I HAD A WOODPECKER THIS MORNING...
On my bird feeder, that is!  Cute little bugger, too.  It's amazing to listen to birds chowing down on bird food—they make almost the same exact sound as Rice Krispies floating in milk...

COULDN'T POSSIBLY BE TRUE!
As I scan the current beisbol standings, I can't help but note that the Kansas Shitty Royals (for whom winning is a hobby rather than a serious pursuit) have the one more win than the defending champeen St. Louie Cardinals.  True, the Cards have four games in hand with the Royals, buuuut there's still something most definitely wrong with this picture!

UNCLEAR OF THE CONCEPT, YET AGAIN?
I've seen a shitload of TV ads this weekend about law enforcement types who are cracking down on folks not wearing seat belts.  A noble effort, to be sure, but call me stupid—why are they tipping their collective hands (and wasting a shitload of money too) with this worthless "Click It Or Ticket" TV campaign?  Seems to me that the element of surprise would be far more effective in nailing folks for not buckling up...

BUMPER STICKER OF THE WEEK
"Blind faith in bad leaders is NOT patriotism!"  Amen, brother, amen!  On the same car was a bumper sticker that read "Irate Moderate on board—What happened to my country?"  I tend to relate to that attitude...

THE TRUTH HURTS
Kudos from me to staff writer David Martin of our local K.C. alternative paper The Pitch for his feature on the city of Raytown's paranoid efforts to keep Wal-Mart from closing its existing Raytown store and building a new one outside the city limits.  Even though I'm a lifelong Raytown resident (apart from the nine months I lived in St. Joseph whilst toiling in the radio toilet at KKJO), I was not the least bit offended by the following line submitted by Mr. Martin:  "With a downtown that even Greensburg tornado victims might find depressing, Raytown is spending its resources on Highway 350, the auto slum that hastened the central business district's death spiral."  Absolutely fucking accurate, Mr. Martin!  There was a point last summer when I was ready to start up a new charity—the W.W.F.R. Fund (Weed Whackers For Raytown)—because the city was apparently unable to keep up with the grass growing between the cracks of its own sidewalks!

I don't mind telling you, folks, I'm more than a tad embarrassed to admit I live in Raytown these days, and our backward-ass redneck reputation isn't undeserved.  The big problem is the Baptists own half of the damn city, and these people are hellbent on making sure that Raytown should remain like Mayberry forever, and that we should party like it's 1959 instead of becoming a fairly modern suburb like our thriving neighbors to the east, Lee's Summit and Blue Springs.  I'm amazed that I can even buy beer in this Puritanical excuse of a suburb...

It was 50 years ago today...

...that the Ruskin Heights tornado hit the southern reaches of the Kansas City area at approx. 7:48 on that Monday night.  It was the deadliest and most destructive tornado ever to hit the K.C. metro area, killing 39 people, injuring over 500, and causing massive property damage all along its 71-mile path, and was on a par in terms of intensity with the recent Greensburg, KS tornado that pretty much wiped out that entire town.  I've long had a fascination about the Ruskin tornado, ever since reading a lengthy account of it in The Kansas City Star on its 20th anniversary in 1977.  Have I really aged 30 years already?  But I digress...

What's really scary to think about is this tornado could have been far worse if it had struck at the same time on the night before or the night after, because the Ruskin High School gymasium would have been full of people on either night during graduation activities—the Baccalaureate ceremony took place on Sunday night, and the Commencement would have taken place on Tuesday at that same hour.  As you can see by what was left of the gym (the arches in the upper right of the above photo), the death toll would have most assuredly been infinitely higher.  The other pic here creepily—but quite accurately—describes the aftermath.  In another odd coincidence, local KCMO-Channel 5 TV viewers were interrupted by storm bulletins both during "I Love Lucy" at 7:00, and another CBS show called "December Bride" at 7:30 which ironically featured a character named Lily Ruskin.  Too weird...

Interestingly enough, the house I currently live in (built in 1954) was in the path of that tornado at one point, but it veered about a mile east of here and crossed through what is now known as Knobtown and headed in the direction of Blue Springs before finally lifting for good after being on the ground for over two hours—a rarity for any tornado.

There is an excellent website that commemorates the tragedy and provides more background and history than I'm able to here.  Considering the many major tornadoes that have struck throughout what's known as "Tornado Alley" since 1957, it's amazing that the Kansas City area hasn't been hit with something far worse than what hit 50 years ago tonight.  We're really lucky in that respect, I think...