skip to main |
skip to sidebar
A humorous look at some of the goofy shit I encountered on my recent California trip...
WTF?!?
If I'm not mistaken, this is an ashtray, correct? If so, why does it display the "No smoking" symbol on the bottom of it? And what the hell was it doing in my "Non-smoking" hotel room?
ON A CLEAR DAY, YOU CAN SEE THE WINDOW
Check out the view from my hotel room in downtown San Francisco! One of the reasons why I wanted to stay downtown was to be able to look out on something besides pigeon poop and a brick wall. I felt like I'd stepped aboard a time machine in this old 1920's vintage hotel that Super 8 had taken over, complete with old-time fire escape out front and narrow alley in between. I only wish Super 8 hadn't neglected to mention when I made my reservation that there was no free off-street parking, and that it would cost me 20 semolians a night for valet parking.
A VICTIM OF SOYCUMSTANCE
It took a little work once I got to this cemetery in Whittier, but I finally found the grave of my man Curly Howard from the Three Stooges. A previous visitor attempted to spell out "NYUK, NYUK, NYUK" with rocks on the concrete slab. Jerome Horwitz, you died way too young, but thanks for the laughs, ya knucklehead!
NOW I'VE SEEN IT ALL, PART 1
Interesting piece of art here that adorns the L.A. Memorial Coliseum—anatomically-correct, yet headless, humanoids?!? Obee-kaybee...
NOW I'VE SEEN IT ALL, PART 2
Believe it or not, this critter was sleeping when I snapped this pic at the famed San Diego Zoo. I can now also truthfully say I've seen a flamingo take a dump!
PLEASE TELL ME...
...why there would be any reason whatsoever to bring a dog to a ballgame? That's about as pointless as bringing an infant child to a game, like the people who sat behind me did at the Giants game. Speaking of dogs in public, I couldn't believe the number of people out and about in L.A. with those pathetic little Paris Hilton dogs.
CELEBRITY DROP-DEAD SPOT #1
This would be the infamous Viper Room, out front of which actor River Phoenix bit the big one in 1993 after inhaling practically every intoxicant known to mankind all at once. Dumbass.
CELEBRITY DROP-DEAD SPOT #2
It was on this corner on Hollywood Blvd. that actor William Frawley, better known as Fred Mertz on "I Love Lucy", suffered a fatal heart attack in 1966. He died just up the block after being dragged to the lobby of the notorious Knickerbocker Hotel, where he used to live for over 30 years. The "Knick" was also once home to former Stooge Larry Fine until he suffered a debilitating stroke in 1970, and it was the scene of the suicidal leap of famed costume designer Irene Gibbons in 1962. Scenes from The Graduate were filmed there, as well, and now it serves as an old-folks home. No doubt about it, Hollywood is a trivia haven!
WAKE ME UP BEFORE I CUM-CUM!
This would be the men's room in Will Rogers Park in Beverly Hills where singer George Michael was busted by an undercover cop for spanking his monkey there in 1998. Georgie Porgie naturally claimed his arrest was "entrapment". More like a colossal career-killing brain fart, Georgie boy...
This john doubled as a convenient rest stop in the middle of the "Tragical History Tour" I partook of during my trip, and ironically, is located just around the corner from the road the Clampetts drove their truck down during the opening credits on the "Beverly Hillbillies".
"WHEN THE LIGHTS GO DOWN IN THE CITY...
...and the bum lies by the bay..."
Here's just one example of the riff-raff I saw throughout San Francisco in a pic that was taken on the concourse along McCovey Cove by the ballpark. I saw literally dozens of these sorry-ass people throughout downtown SF and Golden Gate Park, many of whom apparently have been assigned their own personal shopping cart like this dude. I don't mean to seem insensitive to people down on their luck, but there are places these people can go for help—unfortunately for them, they don't allow drugs and booze in the homeless shelters...
GET A LIFE, AMERICA!
Into our ever-increasingly short attention span society now comes the advent of TV screens at gas pumps. Doctor's waiting rooms are fine places for TVs, but at the gas pump? The price of gas is high enough—what do we need this shit for? How much time does one normally spend at the pump—five minutes? Granted most of that five minutes was nothing but commercials, but I didn't really need to see highlights from David Letterman from the night before while pumping my gas, either.
During my trip, I attended games at all five Major League ballparks in California, and here are my report cards for each in the order in which I visited them…
Dodger Stadium, Los Angeles (C+) All I’ve heard for the last 30 years or so is what a great stadium the "Taj Mahal of Baseball" is. In one of my favorite books of all-time, From Dodger Dogs to Fenway Franks, author Bob Wood traveled to every Major League stadium in the summer of 1985 and rated them, and he just raved about Dodger Stadium, and gave it his #1 ranking. Many other stadium rankings by fans and media outlets like Sports Illustrated and ESPN place DS at or near the top of the lists, but I’m sorry to say that I found the place to be highly overrated. Mr. Wood rated Kansas City’s then-Royals (now Kauffman) Stadium #2—"A Masterpiece…in plastic" he called it because we still had Astroturf at the time—but even the Astroturf-era/pre-renovation Kauffman Stadium would blow Dodger Stadium’s doors off.
My biggest problem with the place is one doesn’t have access to the entire stadium like in most ballparks. You’re stuck on the level that your ticket is on and there’s no moving up or down, thus I was unable to roam around and see the park from all angles (including the bleachers) per my usual. I was also surprised at the generally poor upkeep of the place, like the rickety condiment cart that was about to collapse (see pic with my vaunted Dodger Dog) and the cheesy 60-watt bulbs used in the light fixtures under the upper deck roof. Mr. Wood wrote about concourse floors that were "clean enough to eat off of", but I saw nothing of the sort, and the infield grass—something Mr. Wood also raved about in his book—looked very ratty in places. The place is definitely showing its age, and although I’m aware that there are major renovation plans in the works, the Dodgers are co-owned by that schmuck Rupert Murdoch, so there’s plenty of money in the till to do a little bit of basic upkeep in the interim.
Media-types are often so quick to dog on the fans for being late-arrivers at Dodger games, but they can’t help but be late! Traffic getting into the stadium is a nightmare (not really the stadium’s fault), and even though I allowed over an hour to get from my hotel near Anaheim to the game, I barely made it in time for the first pitch. Hell, I could see people still arriving at the parking gates during the 6th inning! The parking lots there are a total clusterfuck, and it also didn’t help that I had to walk a country mile from the back of the parking lot behind the stadium that overlooks downtown all the way down to the bottom of the hill to the left field corner behind the bleachers to buy my ticket, then go all way back up the hill to enter the stadium itself. Nuckin’ futs!
Another supposed perk of Dodger Stadium is all the stars you’re likely to see there, but the only one I spotted through my binoculars was Tommy Lasorda posing for photos with fans down in the luxury seats behind home plate. I do give credit to the L.A. fans for at least being enthusiastic instead of laid-back like I’d always heard they were, and the stadium does have a beautiful vista beyond the outfield, but overall, I was very underwhelmed by the Dodger Stadium experience, thus I’m being very generous with the C+ grade. I’ll take Kauffman Stadium over it any day…
Petco Park, San Diego (A-) A beautiful park in a great setting right downtown amongst all the eateries and bars in what’s called the Gaslamp District. If you go to the top row on the first base side and look outward, you get a nice view of the Coronado Bridge and part of San Diego Bay. Petco would’ve gotten an A from me except for the area of obstructed view seats down the left field line (see pic) next to the old Western Metal Supply Co. building that they incorporated into the stadium itself. Cute idea, but from these seats, you can’t see the center fielder or the left fielder, nor can you see the video board for replays of the plays you missed. There’s no excuse for this in a modern stadium.
By the by, I visited the San Diego Sports Hall of Fame in nearby Balboa Park, and was fairly impressed with it, apart from one glaring and curious omission—there were no exhibits there for the San Diego Sockers, who dominated both indoor and outdoor soccer in the early ‘80s (10 league championships in all) and the Sockers were the Oakland Raiders of the MISL to us Kansas City Comets fans—i.e., the Evil Empire! Apart from two individual members of the team (forward Juli Veee and head coach Ron Newman) being inducted into the SD HOF, there was nary a mention of what was easily the most successful sports franchise in San Diego history. Even the San Diego Chicken was on display at the museum, but the Sockers got snubbed. Come to think of it, so did Fred Sanford’s favorite roller derby squad, the San Diego Sapsuckers...
Oakland-Alameda County Coliseum, Oakland (C-) I refuse to call this place by its current corporate name, especially since I’m less-than-impressed with McAfee’s computer software! So this is the home of those evil empires known as Charlie Finley’s A’s and Al Davis’ Raidas, huh? As with most ‘60/’70s multi-purpose stadiums, the Mausoleum serves neither football or baseball very well, although ironically I had a great seat—for a Raiders game. My bleacher baseball ticket would’ve landed me on the 35-yard-line about halfway up for a football game (this pic was taken from my seat), as I got to sit in Mt. Davis—the monstrosity that was built in the outfield to lure the Raiders back from L.A. in 1995 that destroyed the beautiful views fans used to have of the hills and mountains off to the east of the stadium.
I also found it rather humorous how us bleacherites were granted access to the normally restricted hoity-toity areas closed off for Raider games. It was the same story on the opposite end of the stadium behind home plate where part of the club level occupies the middle deck. I do give them points for including a nice pictorial history of Oakland sports along the walls, as well as a Raiders Hall of Fame display. Although I didn’t do any sampling of the food, the Mausoleum appeared to have a nice variety of eats beyond just hot dogs and nachos—the garlic fries sure smelled good, anyway! I also had fun checking out the various quirks of the place, like the dreaded "stairway to hell" that leads to the field seats for Raider games (see pic).
On the downside, they have the upper deck of the stadium tarped-off to make the baseball crowds appear larger, a practice that I find to be quite abhorrent (the Florida Marlins do this too). Even though the A’s are having a bad year, the fans were still into the game, and the atmosphere was far from dismal—I can only imagine what the place is like during a Raiders game! They do the best with what they have in Oakland, but still, baseball in a football stadium (or vice-versa) just doesn’t work, and I sure hope the A’s are able to finally get their new proposed ballpark, Cisco (Kid?) Field, down the road in Fremont.
By the way, I now see where Oakland gets its second-class reputation from after cruising around their downtown—it’s a bit of a dive there! Dirty streets filled with lots of unsavory cretins—little did I know I would later find exponentially more undesirables over in Oakland’s sexier neighbor across the bay!
Mays Park, San Francisco (A) The home of the Giants and Mr. Steroid King has only been open eight years and has already had three different names, so I’m taking a cue from fans on the Internet and just calling it Mays Park, after the "Say Hey Kid" himself, Willie Mays, whose statue adorns the main gate of the stadium. I’d heard lots of good things about this place, and most of them were accurate—this is an outstanding baseball park! It’s definitely well worth a trip to the upper deck on the third base side before it gets dark just to check out the awesome view of the bay with the big ships lurking in the background. The view from the first base side is just as awesome, with the Bay Bridge standing guard beyond left field. I normally don’t like to wear a sweatshirt to a baseball game, but after another hot summer here in K.C., I absolutely loved the Fall-like winds coming off McCovey Cove!
Everything about this park is top-notch, like the huge Hi-Def video screen in centerfield and one of the better P.A. systems I've heard—they even have a chick P.A. announcer here. The big playground with the Coke bottle tube slides in left center field is rather nifty, as is the "knot hole" section in the right field wall where you don’t even need a ticket to watch the game through the outfield fence. The Giants also had various displays scattered about the park to commemorate their 50th anniversary in the Bay Area that were a nice touch. Of all the new breed of ballparks, I put this rascal right up there with Safeco in Seattle and PNC Park in Pittsburgh. Too bad the game was such a clunker, as the Florida Marlins skunked the G-men 6-0.
A word to the wise if you’re attending a Giants game—take the bus to get there. Parking around the stadium is pretty scarce, and what little there is of it is quite expensive, as in $25 a pop! In fact, I highly recommend the buses over the cable cars for getting around in S.F.—they’re clean and efficient and devoid of idiot tourists. You can buy an all-day pass for the cable cars and buses on the Muni for $11 and it’s totally worth it.
Anaheim Stadium, Anaheim (B+) I know it’s called Angel Stadium now, but I still prefer its original name. I wasn’t sure what to expect from this one, as it was a mid-‘60s park that went through a major renovation over ten years ago, but they somehow managed to bring it up-to-date after the football Rams bolted for St. Louis and they were able to remove most of the outfield seating that once totally enclosed the stadium. There’s a bit of a changing-of-the-guard in the L.A. area these days, as the Angels are starting so supplant the mighty Dodgers in terms of stature, and with good reason—they field a much better team, and their ballpark experience is a lot more enjoyable in Orange County. If nothing else, the Big A offered the cheapest parking—$8 as opposed to 15 bucks or more at all the other parks I visited on the trip, plus getting in and out was a snap, even with a big crowd on hand.
It’s amazing to look at old photos of Anaheim Stadium when it was first built basically out in the middle of nowhere, and compare the photos of today with all the urban sprawl that surrounds the place. Today it’s strip mall heaven in Anaheim, along with lots of office parks and condos everywhere, not to mention the stately arena across the way formerly known as Arrowhead Pond, home of the NHL’s Mighty Quacks of Anaheim. The stadium itself looks great in spite of its age, although there’s a little too much green to clash with the Angels’ red for my liking. I’m with the rank-and-file of stadium aficionados and could also do without the phony rockpile and waterfall in center field that looks so out-of-place with its surroundings. I also maintain that the giant Big-A scoreboard (see pic) should have been reinstated to its proper place in left center field after being evicted to the edge of the parking lot by the freeway when the Rams moved in. All in all, Anaheim Stadium ain’t a bad place to watch a ballgame, even in the heart of downtown suburbia.
My Previous Stadium Grades
These are my grades for all the ballparks I've actually been to...
Current ballparks
Royals/Kauffman Stadium, Kansas City: A+ (Yes, I know, I’m biased!)
PNC Park, Pittsburgh: A
Safeco Field, Seattle: A
Coors Field, Denver: A
Comerica Park, Detroit: A-
Jacobs Field, Cleveland: B+
Wrigley Field, Chicago: B+
Great American Ballpark, Cincinnati: B
The Ballpark In Arlington, Arlington, TX: B
Oriole Park At Camden Yards, Baltimore: B
Miller Park, Milwaukee: B
Comiskey Park II, Chicago: B-
Metrodome, Minneapolis: C-
Defunct/demolished stadiums
Tiger Stadium, Detroit: A-
Busch Stadium, St. Louis: B+
Municipal Stadium, Kansas City: B+
Comiskey Park I, Chicago: B
County Stadium, Milwaukee: B
Riverfront Stadium, Cincinnati: C
Mile High Stadium, Denver: C
Arlington Stadium, Arlington, TX: C-
Municipal Stadium, Cleveland: C-
Veterans Stadium, Philadelphia: C-
Three Rivers Stadium, Pittsburgh: D+
Astrodome, Houston: D
During my recent California fling, I endeavored to avoid the national chain restaurants as much as possible and check out as many local one-of-a-kind eateries that are unique to the area as I could, based on shows I’ve seen on TV, Internet recommendations and the film/book ‘Hamburger America’. I’ve quickly discovered that the various places that are spotlighted on shows like Food Network’s "Drive-Ins, Diners & Dives" or Travel Channel’s "Hamburger Paradise", et al, can often be a mixed bag. Some of these joints do indeed live up to the hype, while others not so much…
Anyway, here’s brief sampling of the various eateries that I sampled on my recent trip to California…
Squeeze Inn, Sacramento The Squeeze falls into the latter category above—it turned out to be a big disappointment after the way they built it up on DD&D. I knew it was a teeny little place, so getting there early before the lunch crowd arrived was imperative. I did so, but I still encountered a gaggle of Paris Hilton wanna-be’s who were buds with the girl that waited on me, and they were quite annoying. You have the option of dining at one of the eight stools at the counter, or outside at a dirty picnic table by the dumpster out back, and I now wish I’d chosen the latter.
Anyway, I tried their famous Squeeze Burger, which features cheddar cheese that is piled on the burger, and while it’s cooking on the grill, they throw ice on the grill and cover it so the cheese becomes crisp like a potato chip and sticks out from the meat about an inch all the way around. A novel approach to cooking, to be sure, but I wasn’t all that blown away by the burger, which was rather bland, and the French fries were vile.
From what I’ve read on the ‘net afterwards, evidently I missed the pleasure of being waited on by a surly be-yatch there named Sam, who was referred to as a "skank" in at least three different reviews I saw. Squeeze Inn is supposedly a favorite among the locals in Sacramento, but methinks they can do a whole lot better…
Joe’s Cable Car Diner, San Francisco Joe’s is another one that came highly recommended, but once again, I was pretty underwhelmed. First off, there wasn’t anything particularly special about the burger I had—Fred P. Ott’s or the Westport Flea Market Bar & Grill here in K.C. blows Joe’s away. Second off, Joe’s is grossly overpriced—counting the tip, I paid over $20 for just a burger, fries and a drink. I find it sad that these places let greed get the best of them and overcharge just because they were featured on Food Network. The ambience at Joe's was kinda cool, but hardly worth the exorbitant menu prices—grossly overrated.
Big Nate’s BBQ, San Francisco Speaking of exorbitant prices, I took one look at the menu board here and high-tailed it outta there without eating. I read about this place in Sports Illustrated a while back, as it’s run by former NBA star Nate Thurmond and was supposedly one of the best BBQ joints in the city. I was expecting something along the lines of K.C.’s Gates BBQ or Arthur Bryant’s, but was floored at the prospect of forking over nearly $20 for a decent-sized dinner for one, especially when the only choices for sides were coleslaw and beans. What, no fries? Sorry, Nate, I’ll pass…
Tad’s Famous Steaks, San Francisco I knew nothing beforehand about this place, so I took a chance on it for breakfast since it was close to my hotel, and looked like a cool old-school restaurant. Neat atmosphere, but the food was pretty bland for such a "famous" place. The t-bone steak I had was dry enough that I resorted to the steak sauce—something I rarely do, as I prefer my steaks straight. The one I had at the Denny’s in Sacramento the night before was far superior—and two bucks cheaper!
Escape From New York Pizza, San Francisco This was a spur-of-the-moment stop while I wandered around the Haight-Ashbury neighborhood, and their big slice of Pepperoni really hit the spot. I also loved the décor there featuring old 45 records mounted on the wall—very cool.
Carl’s Jr., somewhere north of San Diego This isn’t about the food, but rather the manner in which I had to order it there. Into our ever-increasingly impersonal world, we have now been bestowed the modern technology of touch-screen kiosks inside fast food joints on which to order and pay for your food. It took me longer to negotiate my way through all the various options on the screen than it would have to place my order verbally like normal. At least they still spared some flunky to bring me my food—I’m surprised they didn’t have some burger droid behind the counter. Ironically, I had just heard the old Zager & Evans song "In The Year 2525" on the radio, featuring the line, "some machine’s doin’ that for you…"
Bubba Gump Shrimp Co., Anaheim I’ve seen these places everywhere but K.C., and had been wanting to check them out for quite a while, so since it was right on the way to Anaheim Stadium, I did an early dinner there before the ballgame. Sad to say, I wasn’t all that impressed with their menu selections, and didn’t feel like I got $20 worth of shrimp from their sampler platter. Joe’s Crab Shack is far better, and that’s all I have to say about that…
Mel’s Drive-In, San Francisco Some enterprising folks pirated the Mel’s Drive-In logo and motif from the film American Graffiti and opened a chain of old-school diners throughout California, and I checked out the one in downtown SF and really liked it. Good burger, dandy fries, and pretty speedy service. The little jukeboxes on the counter were a nice touch too. Hopefully Mel’s will drift eastward and open a few up around K.C. someday.
Zingo’s, Bakersfield While driving early Sunday morning, through Bakersfield, listening to Gospel music on that colored radio station, I stumbled across this kinda redneck-looking joint nestled between Hiway 99 and Buck Owens Blvd. I wasn’t really in a Denny’s mood for breakfast, so I thought what the hey and took a chance on Zingo’s, and it turned out to be a wise move. They were the best surprise of the trip, food-wise, and I enjoyed one of the best ham-and-cheese omelets I’ve ever eaten. A tad pricey, but well worth it…
Bob’s Big Boy, Burbank This is the famous one where Bob Hope used to hang out all the time, and where they have the classic car rallies that Jay Leno and other celebrities attend. Located near NBC and Warner Bros. Studios, Bob’s was a very pleasant surprise, as it was easily the most inexpensive place I ate at on the trip (fast food joints included). I had their Big Burger Combo, which even included a salad, and it all cost me less than ten bucks. I’d eat there all the time if I lived in the area.
Hodad’s, Ocean Beach Just northwest of downtown San Diego, about a block and a half from the ocean sits local legend Hodad’s. It’s a bit of a dive and full of surfers and slackers—in fact Ocean Beach was like a college town with surfboards—and I think I was the only person in the place who didn’t have a tattoo and/or piercings, but they served up one of the most killer burgers I’ve ever devoured! I had their double bacon cheeseburger, and it made Hardees’ (or Carl’s Jr. for you West Coast folks) Monster Burger look like a White Castle burger by comparison. I actually had to sit and formulate a plan of attack to figure out how to fit my mouth around it before I bit into the thing! Good stuff, Maynard!
My apologies for not posting much this week, as I've been rather busy getting back in regular swing of things following my trip, both mentally and physically, but I will be delivering lots of new posts voluminiously this weekend, so strap yourselves in...
I'M RAGGIN'
It's Labor Day weekend, so that can only mean one thing—my sinuses are freaking! Right on cue, ragweed season has hit just like it always does on or around Labor Day, and if my post-nasal drip keeps up like it is, I'm liable to blow something out of my head that I need...
ARE YOU READY FOR SOME FOOSBALL?
Ahhh, finally some games that count! I'm getting ready to watch my Mizzou Tigers pick up where they left off last season as they take on Illinois in St. Louis. MU better be on their toes for this one, as there have already been a couple upsets today, like East Carolina doing the Hokie Pokey against Virginia Tech and Utah beating Michigan in what is becoming an annual opening day ritual at the "Big House" in Ann Arbor. The Wolverines' nemesis from last year, Applachian State, didn't fare quite so well against the Bayou Bengals of LSU today.
As for the NFL, I'm rarin' to go after yet another needlessly-long exhibition season. I'm glad to hear that there is now some serious discussion about shortening the NFL preseason to two games and adding two more to the regular season. Hell, the Canadian Football League has played an 18-game schedule for many years, and they currently only have eight teams. I still can't believe the NFL used to play six preseason games back in the early '70s.
IS THERE NOTHING SACRED?
Speaking of football, El Chiefos are saying that it's just a matter of time before they slap some corporate name on Arrowhead Stadium. I suppose it's inevitable, but I'll never call the place anything but Arrowhead or just plain The 'Head.
OLYMPIC POST-MORTEM
Since I was gone most of the time, I didn't get to comment much on the Summer Games from Beijing. It was rather surreal listening to the Gold Medal basketball game live on the radio while en route to LAX at 7:30 in the morning, but I'm glad the U.S. won, although it's hard to root for these NBA millionaires as opposed to a bunch of college kids. Michael Phelps was mighty impressive in the swimming thang, but why do I have a feeling we'll find out later he was on steroids? You can't help but wonder in this day and age...
NOVEMBER CAN'T COME SOON ENOUGH
I'm so sick of the whole Presidential campaign—I can't wait until election night just to get it over with. These party conventions are such a sham anymore, and I refuse to waste my time watching either of them—it's all "hooray for our side" and very little substance. I still have my doubts about Obama, but I'm sticking with him because you couldn't get me to vote for a Republican at gunpoint right now, especially one who doesn't know how many houses he owns and who thinks $5 million is "middle-class".
Speaking of McCain, a curious choice he's made for a running mate. I'd never even heard of this Palin woman until 24 hours ago, and when I saw the headline "McCain chooses Palin as running mate", I immediately thought of Michael Palin of Monty Python's Flying Circus!
ATTENTION, RAYS FANS...
Your baseball team is really good! I was rather appalled to read that even though the Tampa Bay Rays are still looking good for the American League East title, no one is showing up to their home games. On Wednesday night, the Rays only attracted 200 more people than what bothered to watch the Royals' debacle at Kauffman Stadium here—we're talking less than 13,000 patrons. Come on, all you Tampa-ites (Tampons?), get your butts in gear and get to the games, or I'll become a major advocate of contraction of your team. There are too many cities out there who would truly support Major League Baseball if they had a team, like Portland, Indianapolis or Buffalo.
LET'S WATCH THE RADIO!
In what is becoming an annoying trend, yet another nationally-syndicated morning radio show is apparently coming to television this fall, as WGN in Chicago has been running promos for the dreaded "Bob & Tom Show" during the ballgames. These promos feature nothing but incessant laughter, which is pretty much all they do on this crapfest, as B&T do nothing but laugh at their own lame jokes and bits for four hours. They were on the air ever-so-briefly here in K.C. a couple years back, and their ratings were so abysmal that 101-The Fox dropped them like a bad habit and went back to local deejays.
A little look at some places I visited during my trip that you're bound to recognize...
WHERE'S FRED AND LAMONT?!?
To the left of the telephone pole is the approximate spot where Fred Sanford's empire/junkyard should be in Los Angeles, based on Fred's famous address, 9114 S. Central, if it existed. There is no such house address on Central Avenue, therefore there's no Sanford, no Son, not even &. However, I think I might've passed Rollo on a sidewalk in Watts, which I was crazy enough to drive through. Truth be known, I've seen far rougher parts of town here in K.C. and in Chicago and St. Louis than Watts—it didn't seem all that bad to me.
IS FONZIE HOME?
This of course would be Chez Cunningham from "Happy Days", but it ain't in Milwaukee, and there's no upstairs apartment over the garage. It's actually located just a few blocks from Paramount Studios, where the show was taped. And of course, the exterior and the interior floor plan of Mr. and Mrs. C's abode are totally incompatible.
YOU WANT ME TO GET THAT?
Welcome to the Tate mansion, also located near Paramount Studios, and just up the street from Rob Zombie's house. And no, that's not Benson waving in the front yard! Confused yet? You won't be after the next episode of "Soap"...
Y'ALL COME BACK NOW, HERE?
I wasn't able to check out the Clampett Mansion in Bel Air—according to the tour guide, there's not much to see since they've built high walls up all around the place. So in lieu of that, here's the street the Beverly Hillbillies drive down during the opening credits of the show. Oddly enough, it's just down the block from Will Rogers Memorial Park, where singer George Michael got busted for spanking his monkey in the john there (more on that in a future post).
HERE'S THE STORY OF THE HOUSE OF BRADY...
Nestled in a quite little subdivision just north of Hollywood and just off Ventura Blvd. sits the famed Brady abode. I was quite pleased to see that the current owners have righted an egregious wrong by replacing the evil astroturf lawn with natural grass! And we can only hope the man of this house wasn't too "busy with three boys of his own"...
ALTADENA, 90210?!?
This would be Casa de Walsh from "Beverly Hills, 90210", but it ain't nowhere near Beverly Hills—it's located in Altadena, which is just north of Pasadena. It's not located in an overly swanky neighborhood, but it's still a major upgrade over where I live.
OZZY DOESN'T LIVE HERE ANYMORE
And finally we have the former Osbournes residence, which I believe our tour guide said now belongs to one Jennifer Lopez. The gargoyles have been removed from the front gates, but the cricifixes (crucifi?) are still affixed to the porch light fixtures. Sharon!!
...recover from the trip you've been on."--P. McCartney
I've been taking Sir Paul's advice (well, the second part of it, anyway) after returning home last night from California. I'm still pretty tired, but overall it was a mighty fine trip. Just to prove I was really there, I give you this photo of me next to the Golden Gate Bridge, which after seeing in person, I am officially proclaiming to be the second-coolest manmade thing on earth, just behind the Gateway Arch in St. Louis. Talk about your thrill rides—it was a total rush to walk across this awesome piece of engineering, especially with the high winds whipping all around me. The Bay Bridge was pretty cool too, but there's no pedestrian traffic allowed on it. I'll provide full coverage of the trip with photos later on, but for now, just a few notes and observations.
My man Bob Walkenhorst of The Rainmakers was absolutely right when he wrote, "If you've ever seen that L.A. scene, you know it ain't no Jan & Dean..." Lots of crazies down that way, especially in the Hollywood & Highland area along the Hollywood Walk of Fame. I heeded Ray Davies' advice and avoided "stepping on Bela Lugosi" while "Celluloid Heroes" played on my iPod. What a wonderful enhancement to the experience my iPod was, by the way—it was fun to listen to "Walking In L.A." by Missing Persons while literally walking in L.A.! As for the WOF itself, it's great that they honor the true greats, but I'm having trouble understanding the criteria they use that allows schlubs like John Tesh, Leeza Gibbons, Mark & Brian and Ryan Seacrest (puh-leeze!) to be included in the same league as Marilyn Monroe, John Wayne and Bob Hope. I'm reminded of comedian Gallagher's bit about Canadian currency which features a picture of the queen on one side and a beaver on the other—"What good is first place if second place went to a beaver?"
I was totally unprepared for downtown San Francisco. I was absolutely floored by all the vagrants, beggars, winos, weirdos, bums and just plain losers I encountered not just in downtown, but Golden Gate Park as well. Every big city is plagued by this, but I have never seen that many transients in one place before. I saw numerous people literally sleeping in the streets, and it was as if the authorities turned a collective blind eye to it. If I were a native San Franciscan, I would be totally embarrassed. It's a beautiful city, to be sure, but there's definitely a dark side to it. And although some of the denizens of Haight-Ashbury apparently think it's still 1969 with their drugs and Woodstock mentality, I did not see one single solitary person wearing flowers in their hair, either...
Another thing I was appalled at in California was the roads—they are dreadful! The highways (especially in the L.A. area) look like they haven't been resurfaced in 20 years, and some of the signage looks like it was installed in the '70s! Between the film industry and all the big corporations in California with all that money, you'd think they could funnel some of that cash into upkeep on the roads. On the positive side, the weather was just about perfect throughout the trip, and I especially loved the Fall-like temperatures in the Bay Area. But dammit—there wasn't an earthquake while I was out there! I'm so disappointed...
Oh, one other thing—I have a question for all the bozos who conducted the protests on Hollywood Blvd. last Saturday about the Scientologists while wearing masks—if you're so dedicated to your cause, why did you feel the need to hide your faces? Granted, you're preaching to the choir here, as I think Scientology is total bullshit—hell, I think ALL religions are total bullshit—but what was up with the masks and vitriol y'all spewed forth? Get a life already...
Much more to come later when I can string more coherent thoughts together...
Barring a last-minute air traffic controller strike or major earthquake, long about this time tomorrow night, I will be dining on Dodger Dogs and watching Manny Ramirez mangling routine fly balls in left field at Dodger Stadium, as my long-awaited Californy trip commences. It's been a long time coming, and I'm very pumped about seeing La-La Land for the first time. The itenerary goes something like this: LA Thursday, San Diego Friday, back to LA Saturday, up to the Bay Area Sunday-Monday-Tuesday (Sacramento/Tahoe/Reno area included), then back to LA Wednesday and Thursday next week and returning home Friday. If I can find some cheap Internet access along the way, I'll try to write and update y'all on how things are going, especially if I wind up having dinner with Renee Zellweger or Kate Winslet, or wind up staying the night with Gene and Shannon and the kids. Otherwise, the blog will obviously be on hiatus until my return. Photos and complete details will follow, of course.
I am now free to move about the country, so as the CB radio-types used to say (and probably still do): "Catch you on the flip-flop!"
Only one more installment to go after this one...
96) Kiss/Ted Nugent/Skid Row (Monday, August 28, 2000—Kansas Coliseum, Wichita) Ticket price: $44.50
My little four-city Rock ‘N’ Roll road trip continued on another blazing hot August day as I trekked north from Dallas-Ft. Worth into Oklahoma en route to Wichita. I stopped along the way in Oklahoma City to see the Federal Building memorial for the first time, and was quite impressed. I also liked their new entertainment district called Bricktown, the centerpiece of which is a snazzy little minor league baseball stadium. Well worth a look, if you’re ever down that way.
Unlike my last Kiss show at Kansas Coliseum in ‘97, this one was all general admission seats, so I pretty much roamed the entire building all night and enjoyed various different views. I was practically running on fumes by the time Skid Row came on stage, and wasn’t real thrilled with having to sit through them and Nugent again to get to Kiss, but I muddled through all the same. Unlike the show from the week before in K.C., I saw Skid Row from start-to-finish, and they played a decent set, and it appeared that guitarist Snake Szabo was fully-recovered from his leg injury early on in the Kiss “Farewell” Tour, as he was running around the stage as if nothing was wrong. Nugent’s set was the usual routine, apart from dropping “Fred Bear” and the requisite camp fire thereof. At one point, good ol’ Ted got on this “Dig me—I'm 52 years old and sober” kick, which prompted me to go get a beer to toast Ted with, even though I wasn’t planning to drink that night. When I attend a Rock concert, I don’t care to hear a temperance lecture—fuck you, Ted! Oh, by the way, Nugent wasn’t even 52 years old yet—his birthdate is December 13, 1948, thus he was still 51. So much for sobriety when you don’t even know your own correct age…
SET LIST: Stormtroopin’/Paralyzed/Wang Dang Sweet Poontang/Free For All/Dog Eat Dog/Kiss My Ass/Do You Love Me/Stranglehold ENCORE: Great White Buffalo
Ironically, the beer perked me up a bit, and I was wide awake again by the time Kiss came on. I watched the first five songs from the very back row of the arena directly in front of the stage, and from that vantage point, the light-up Kiss logos nearly blinded me. I didn’t remember them being nearly as bright at the K.C. show, even though we were almost at eye-level with them. Got bored with that view after a while, so I made my way down to floor level and hung out near the small stage that Paul Stanley flies out to during “Love Gun” and by the time he did so, there was only one other person standing between me and the barricade. At one point, Stanley had to lecture yet another moron in the crowd about using a lazer pointer, which apparently had become a major problem on this tour. “Better get home or you’ll be late for second grade tomorrow,” he intoned, “We got 10,000 good people here and one asshole!” Then without missing a beat, Paul went right back to working the crowd up for the next song. As the show wound down, I made my way up toward the main stage and by the time they got to “Rock And Roll All Nite”, I was within about ten yards of the barricade directly in front of Gene Simmons’ mic stand. With all this enormity in front of me, I was like Niles Crane beholding the sight of Daphne naked—“Oh, momma!” It also dawned on me at the time how lucky I was to be able to do all these concerts (The Who included) during this period so I could do as Paul Stanley frequently advised and “remember when it was real!”
SET LIST: Detroit Rock City/Deuce/Shout It Out Loud/I Love It Loud/Shock Me/Firehouse/ Do You Love Me/Calling Dr. Love/Heaven’s On Fire/Let Me Go, Rock ‘N’ Roll/2000 Man/Psycho Circus/ Lick It Up/God Of Thunder/Cold Gin/100,000 Years/Love Gun/I Still Love You/Black Diamond ENCORES: Beth/Rock And Roll All Nite
97) Kiss/Ted Nugent/Skid Row (Wednesday, August 30, 2000—Hilton Coliseum, Ames, IA) Ticket price: $45.00
I was originally planning to also attend the Kiss concert in Omaha on Tuesday night, but I was absolutely exhausted by the time I got home in the wee hours of Monday morning from Wichita. Money was running a little low too, so I decided to skip Omaha and just attend the show on the campus of Iowa State University instead. Just for fun on that Wednesday, I decided to re-route my trip and went to Ames—via Omaha! I’d always heard good things about the Henry Doorly Zoo in Omaha, and the rumors were true—a very cool place to visit, especially the aquarium with the glass tube you walk through with all the fishies swimming around you. Speaking of cool places, the penguin exhibit was THE place to be on a hot August day, as well! Following that, I got to experience firsthand for the first time, “that long lonesome highway, east of Omaha…” that Bob Seger sings about. Talk about a total borefest! They don’t even have any interesting signage to read along I-80 like we do on I-70 here in Missouri. Not even a bloody Stuckey’s sign—oy!
Built in 1971, Hilton Coliseum has aged surprisingly well, and it turned out to be a dandy concert venue, as the sightlines and acoustics were quite good. I missed most of Skid Row this time, and was so tired of Ted Nugent by then that I spent most of his set watching the exploits of his rhythm section, drummer Tommy Aldridge and bassist Marco Mendoza (not to be confused with Mark “The Animal” Mendoza of Twisted Sister, also a bassist). Aldridge is a total monster on the drums, and I have never seen anyone hit them with as much sheer force as he did during “Great White Buffalo”.
SET LIST: Same as previous show—see above.
Being as this was the third show in three nights for Kiss, I had concerns about their collective stamina. Turns out that Kiss was fine—it was yours truly who was the tired one! After attending four concerts in six nights in four different cities in three different states, I learned a new respect for the rigors of the road and what bands and road crews go through—the road drains you after a while.
Since this was my fourth show on the Kiss “Farewell” Tour, I spent most of the night watching the concert through my binoculars observing the subtle things, like when Ace Frehley presses the button on his guitar to activate his rocket launchers, and when Gene takes a swig of his lighter fluid for the fire breathing bit. Paul Stanley was the star of the show again this night, dancing his ass off throughout and seemingly was in high spirits. There were a few minor fuck-ups here and there, like Ace missing his target a couple times with the rocket launchers, a couple flashpots not firing during “Heaven’s On Fire”, and most glaring of all, near the end of the show when Peter Criss failed to answer the bell for “Rock And Roll All Nite”. Stanley got the crowd all pumped up and was about to intro the song, but no one was behind the drums. The Cat Man must’ve lingered a bit too long in his litter box! Not the greatest night Kiss has ever had, but still not a bad show. I also have to give it up to them for putting forth the same amount of effort in the smaller markets like Ames and Wichita as they do in the big cities.
This was my record-setting 15th Kiss concert—a record that I can say in all certainty will never be broken by any other band—unless Z.Z. Top or Van Halen does a nine-night stand in my back yard or something. Technically, Nugent is in second place with ten shows I’ve attended, but only three of those shows were as a headliner, so the other seven don’t count. It was also more than likely my final Kiss concert, unless Ace Frehley and Peter Criss rejoin the band, or I soften my stance on the current Kiss tribute band called Kiss with Tommy Thayer and Eric Singer. All 15 of them were fun in one way or another, and most of them were awesome shows. Thanks for the memories, gentlemen!
SET LIST: Same as previous show—see above.
98) Weird Al Yankovic (Friday, September 23, 2000—Starlight Theater) Ticket price: $27.50
‘Weird’ was the operative word for this show, and it had nothing to do with Al. This was the first and only concert I’ve ever attended that featured a rain delay. I knew we were doomed when I checked the radar on the Weather Channel before heading out, as there was this large red blob headed east on I-70 directly towards K.C., and arriving right around showtime. As my friend Rose and I drove to the concert, I apprehensively kept watching the rapidly darkening sky to the west. Not long after we arrived at the concert, the Starlight people announced that the show would be delayed because of the lightning threat, and then it started raining. Hard! It turned into a deluge before we knew it, and the theater people announced that we could return to our vehicles if we so desired. Most of the crowd headed for the hills, but Rose brought her umbrella and huddled under it while I roughed it and got wet. Memories of Summer Rock ’81 at Arrowhead danced through my head as the rain came down in sheets, and it was all rather comical until lightning knocked the power out to the entire venue briefly. Finally, after about 20 minutes the rain let up and eventually stopped altogether and it turned out to be a nice evening after that, even though I was drenched.
I believe there was supposed to be an opening act for Weird Al, but I assume they were scrubbed by the rain delay. The crowd was an eclectic mix of people of all ages and intellects, and nerds and geeks abounded too. Following a brief video intro—the song to which the geeks sitting behind us sang word-for word—Weird Al and his boys hit the stage at 9:00, opening with “Gump”, which was accompanied by a faux-Forrest Gump video in the background (Paramount wouldn’t let them use the real deal with Tom Hanks). Al immediately acknowledged everyone for riding the storm out by saying, “You people are crazy!” As I’ve said before, Weird Al’s band are all top-notch musicians, and their range is amazing considering all the different styles of music that Al parodies in his songs. Sadly, the sound was dreadful—very uncharacteristic for Starlight—nor was the show very loud and I had trouble making out Al’s vocals part of the time.
After about four songs, another video appeared on screen and the band disappeared. They re-emerged a little while later, having all changed into their bright yellow Devo suits for “Dare To Be Stupid”. This would be standard procedure throughout the night, using the videos as a decoy during the costume changes. This could be a risky venture for some acts, but in Al’s case, the videos were just as entertaining as the show itself. Many of them were parodies of those Cold War instructional movies—the “duck and cover” genre—as well as movie trailer spoofs and some new AL TV interview segments like in the olden days of MTV. The high point of the show for me was when Al recreated his own video for “Sounds Like Nirvana”, complete with the cheerleaders on stage and Al in an gnarly blonde Kurt Cobain wig and wearing his ugly green sweater and playing guitar left-handed. The show ended with a salute to Star Wars featuring “The Saga Begins” (to the tune of Don McLean’s “American Pie”) and “Yoda”. I wasn’t quite sure what to expect going in (apart from the storm), but all in all, I came away quite impressed with Weird Al’s well-thought-out presentation, and I have never laughed as much at a concert than I did at this one. Al’s well-worth the money to see in concert, if you get the opportunity.
NOTE: I was unable to keep track of the set list because my notepad was rendered virtually useless by the storm!
99) Lynyrd Skynyrd/Deep Purple/Ted Nugent (Tuesday, July 3, 2001—Sandstone Amphitheater) Ticket price: $9.97
I had never seen Lynyrd Skynyrd live in concert before, and even though most of their original members were either retired, kicked out of the band or dead, I was still interested in seeing them. I was also interested to hear what the post-Ritchie Blackmore Deep Purple sounded like, so I decided to give this show a shot. Plus, it was radio station 99.7 KY's annual birthday bash, and the $9.97 ticket price was quite appealing, plus this being my 99th concert made it seem rather appropriate. But good gravy, Ted Nugent as an opening act again?!? This was the Rock ‘N’ Roll equivalent of having gum on your shoe—it’s always there!!
The first thing I noted upon my arrival was that Nugent’s logo behind the stage now had a “.com” attached to it. I found out later that he had an ulterior motive here, as when you dialed up his website, you were led directly into his right-wing conservative propaganda page instead of a site devoted to his music. Figures. Was disappointed to see that drummer Tommy Aldridge had been replaced by another drummer named Tommy (I didn’t catch his last name), but he wasn’t too bad. Mercifully, Nugent rushed through his set like he had a bus to catch, and about the only change to the set list from 2000 was the addition of “Hey Baby” and he only did about 1/3 of “Free-For-All”. Ted was rather subdued too, and didn’t even bother doing his “get out of America if you can’t speak English” rant, choosing instead to do some lame bit about America being the only decent country on earth and everyone else sucks (including Canada, I presume). Fine, Ted, whatever…you’re no longer relevant to me.
SET LIST: Paralyzed/Stormtroopin’/Free-For-All/Hey Baby/Wang Dang Sweet Poontang/Cat Scratch Fever/Stranglehold/Great White Buffalo
Deep Purple came on just as the sun started going down and opened with “Woman From Tokyo”. I was immediately shocked at how utterly old these guys now looked! Ian Gillan could still sing a razor line, but he now resembled a pre-AIDS Rock Hudson instead of the Rock star he once was. Keyboardist Jon Lord now looked like a cross between Col. Sanders and the “medulla oblongata” guy from The Waterboy and bassist Roger Glover looked kinda like a cross between George Carlin and Mr. Miyagi from Karate Kid! Only drummer Ian Paice seemed to retain his youthful appearance and new guitarist Steve Morse was still young to begin with. I wasn’t all that familiar with Morse prior to this show, other than that he played in the latter-day version of Kansas, but I was very impressed with him by night’s end. The first thing I noted was he enjoyed a lot more interplay with the other guys in the band, in stark contrast to Blackmore’s stand-offish ways and the veritable force field that surrounded him on stage. Glover, in particular, often hooked up with Morse during a few songs to do some Kiss-like maneuvers in time to the music (“Highway Star”, for one), and it was fun to watch.
The set list was pretty much identical to the one I had read on their website, and I was somewhat disappointed with it. Too many obscure cuts for my liking, apart from the inclusion of “Pictures Of Home" from Machine Head. I was also quite disgusted with the inclusion of only one ‘80s cut, “Perfect Strangers”. The most interesting part of the set was Morse’s extended guitar solo, during which he played numerous famous guitar licks, with Glover and Ian Paice joining in at appropriate times. He led off with a piece of “Dust In The Wind” from his Kansas days, then did the end part of “Stairway To Heaven” and bits from other classics like “Won’t Get Fooled Again”, “Day Tripper”, “Back In Black”, et al, all leading up to arguably the most famous guitar riff of all, “Smoke On The Water”, which closed the set, followed by “Hush” and “Highway Star” for encores. Not a bad set, but kinda sad to see how much these guys had aged since I saw them 14 years earlier in ’87.
SET LIST: Woman From Tokyo/Ted The Mechanic/Lazy/No One Came/Fools/Pictures Of Home/Perfect Strangers/When A Blind Man Cries/Steve Morse guitar solo featuring bits from: Dust In The Wind, Stairway To Heaven, Won’t Get Fooled Again, Little Wing, Mississippi Queen, Day Tripper, Sweet Home Alabama, Heartbreaker and Back In Black/Smoke On The Water ENCORES: Hush/Highway Star
Skynyrd finally came on well after 10:00 with a backdrop depicting a swamp-like area during a storm with simulated lightning. Meanwhile, I could see the real thing striking just off to the northwest behind the venue, and I feared we might have a repeat of the Weird Al deluge. They opened with “Working for MCA” and seemed to have a good time playing to the crowd. Johnny Van Zant is the perfect replacement for his late brother, and in some ways it’s almost as if Ronnie never left us. Johnny did pander to the crowd a bit too much for my liking, but he sang quite well. Guitarist Ricky Medlocke was the most fun to watch as he moved around stage making Nugent-esque moves at times. Bassist Leon “Mad Hatter” Wikerson was second-most fun to watch because he modeled his entire hat collection throughout the show, not to mention having the balls to wear red latex pants on a 90-degree night for the entire set. Little did anyone know Leon would leave this earth just over three weeks after this show.
They did all the Skynyrd biggies, as expected, but very little of their newer stuff, which I expected to hear. “Gimme Three Steps” was a high point, as one would expect, and “Sweet Home Alabama” closed out the set, followed by “Free Bird” as the encore. Sadly, the dreadful Sandstone sound mix rendered the legendary guitar solo (played entirely by Medlocke) virtually indiscernible. Not a bad performance, although I came away feeling it lacked something, but I’m not sure what. Oh, by the way, that lightning I spotted off the northwest managed to make its way to Sandstone just as I got to my car, and a major downpour ensued. Timing is everything…
SET LIST: Workin’ For MCA/I Ain’t The One/Keep On Workin’/I Know A Little/Medley: Down South Jukin’, The Needle And The Spoon, Gimme Back My Bullets, On The Hunt/Tuesday’s Gone/What’s Your Name?/That Smell/Simple Man/Gimme Three Steps/Call Me The Breeze/ Sweet Home Alabama ENCORE: Free Bird
100) Journey/Peter Frampton/John Waite (Saturday, July 28, 2001—Sandstone Amphitheater) Ticket price: $31.50
I treated my friend Tom and his wife to tickets for this show since both of their birthdays were that same week, but decided to wait and get the tickets at the show in an effort to circumvent the TicketBastard “convenience charge”. Didn’t work. I still wound up paying an extra eight bucks per ticket—talk about your royal rip-offs!
Former Babys lead singer John Waite opened with a respectable 30-minute set. His vocal range was still quite good, and the highlight of his set might have been the somewhat-forgotten “Change” from the Vision Quest soundtrack, as well as his big hit “Missing You”—a song I was never all that crazy about. Waite did surprise me by playing my favorite Babys song, “Isn’t It Time?” from ‘77.
Looking a bit more like a college professor than the teen idol he once was, Peter Frampton came on next, and he surprised me by doing another favorite of mine, the overlooked “Lying” from ’86. Frampton—no relation to Arthur Frampton, the man with three buttocks of Monty Python fame—did several cuts from Comes Alive!, as one would expect, including “Lines On My Face” and “All I Wanna Be (Is By Your Side)”, along with the usual suspects “Show Me The Way”, “Baby, I Love Your Way” and “Do You Feel (Like We Do)”. I was hoping we might also hear “It’s A Plain Shame” or “Doobie Wah”, but no such luck. PF used his trademark talk-box gizmo throughout, which was kinda fun, but he indulged himself and stretched out some of his songs a bit too long at times, and the audience got a little restless. The boy does know his way around a fretboard, though. During his encore, he even whipped out the old Humble Pie gem “I Don’t Need No Doctor”, and it sounded great. I never got to see Frampton in his heyday—if memory serves, he headlined one of the big Summer Jam concerts at Royals (now Kauffman) Stadium in ’77—but it was nice to finally catch him live. He wasn’t too shabby.
SET LIST: (Not quite complete) Lying/Lines On My Face/Show Me The Way/All I Wanna Be (Is By Your Side)/Penny For Your Thoughts/Baby I Love Your Way/Do You Feel (Like We Do) ENCORES: Blues Jam/I Don’t Need No Doctor
Journey came on a little while later, and opened with “Any Way You Want It”. The Steve Perry-clone Steve Augeri was quite impressive, and the perfect replacement for His Royal Flakiness. Neal Schon was impressive on guitar, and he too knows his way around the ol’ fretboard. The set list was somewhat disappointing, with one too many ballads on it (although shockingly, no “Open Arms”) and not enough rockers. The crowd (nearly capacity, with the lawn totally full) was enthusiastic throughout, though. Unfortunately, I got pretty ripped on beer at this show, thus my intoxication limits my memory of the latter stages of the show. As the Pink Floyd thing goes, “I dunno if I was really drunk at the time…” I also couldn’t pick out the titles of the new material they played, so I just listed them as “new song” below.
SET LIST: Any Way You Want It/Ask The Lonely/Stone In Love/new song/I’ll Be Alright Without You/Lights/When You Love A Woman/Feeling That Way/Anytime/Message Of Love/new song/Don’t Stop Belevin’/Faithfully/new song/Separate Ways (Worlds Apart)/Escape/Wheel In The Sky/Only The Young/Be Good To Yourself ENCORE: Lovin’ Touchin’ Squeezin’
Did I just quote the Bay City Rollers?!? Damn, I'm getting desperate...
WELL, ISN'T THAT SPECIAL?
Democrap John Edwards admitted yesterday that he cheated on his wife while she had cancer, which is about as low as Dubya's approval ratings in my book. I was never crazy about him to begin with because he always came off to me as seeming like a televangelist, and whaddya know—he has exhibited the typical behavior of one. It pains me to say this, but I guess Ann Coulter was right after all—John Edwards is a total pussy!
MY GREATEST BRUSH WITH GREATNESS
A little unfinished business here, as I forgot to include this in my review of the John Entwistle concert at which I got the man's otto-graph on my Who By Numbers CD insert. This is not a forgery—the Ox really did sign it. Honest! He really did...
ANCIENT CHINESE SECRET, HUH?
How else do you explain how that dude with the torch "flew" around the rim of the stadium in Beijing during the opening ceremonies for the Olympics? Sadly, we're barely a day and a half into the whole thing, and already there's been an Olympic-related death. I have a feeling there will be more...
THANK YOU, MOTHER NATURE!
A week ago tonight, I barricaded myself in my 9' x 12' bedroom with the frosty window-unit air conditioner because it was 97 degrees outdoors with humidity to match. Today's high was about 20 degrees cooler than that and I was able to mow my yard without drowning in my own sweat.
A RETRACTION, OF SORTS
Regular readers of this blog may remember me ripping on the "Gene Simmons Family Jewels" television program a time or two. Well, at the risk of flip-flopping, I have to admit that the show ain't so bad. The installment that finally won me over was when Gene was backstage at the Kiss concert where Paul Stanley fell ill last year and was unable to perform, so I decided to watch the show from the beginning on DVD, and I have to admit it actually is rather humorous in places, although Gene's son Nick is the really funny one. As I've stated before on here, I give Gene and Shannon credit for raising two kids with their heads on straight. Nick and Sophie certainly seem to be able to handle being famous a lot better than Jack and Kelly Osbourne ever did. I still maintain that a lot of the shit they do on the show is staged, as some of the predicaments Gene finds himself in have a decidedly Lucy Ricardo quality to them. But if you don't take the show too seriously, it's rather entertaining. HOWEVER, this is not an endorsement of the reality TV genre—it's still mostly bullshit to me!
As for Gene, I still find it very disconcerting how the man obsesses over money—he's worse than Mr. Drysdale ever was!
Why shouldn’t I? I’m writing the blasted thing!
POLITICS SCHMOLITICS
Why do the candidates have to utter that stupid phrase even on the commercials where they’re the one doing all the talking? And John McCain using Paris Hilton in his campaign ads to slam Obama—aren’t we getting a tad desperate, Big John?
AND IF I AM ELECTED…
…my first official act will be to outlaw electioneering at the polls. I get so sick of this every time I go to vote and wind up being hounded by these schmucks passing out their leaflets and flyers for their candidates and issues. On Tuesday, I was accosted by this old redneck Shriner who practically hovered over my car until I got out just to tell me all about his Republican hero that I wasn’t about to vote for anyway.
WE FORSAKE YOU, GONNA RAPE YOU, LET’S FORGET YOU BETTER STILL…PHILL
There was one thing I was sure proud to see in Tuesday’s results—Johnson County district attorney Phill Kline getting whooped by the other Republican in the primary. I don’t live in Johnson County, Kansas, but I work there, and I’m tickled to see this Neolithic dipshit lose. For the uninitiated, Mr. Phill (yes, that’s how he spells his first name) is the over-zealous anti-abortion activist who when he was Kansas Attorney General, violated patient privacy laws in his attempt to shut down numerous abortion clinics in the state to further his political agenda. I thought Kline was well on his way to mangling up the much-publicized Kelsey Smith murder trial until the loser that killed her admitted his guilt. I still find it very disingenuous that Mr. “Pro-Lifer” Kline was going to seek the death penalty on the creep if the trial had gone the distance. Now Phill can go crawl back under his rock, but fat chance he will…
SKIP CARAY, 1939-2008
Sad news out of the baseball world over the weekend with the passing of Atlanta Braves announcer Skip Caray. I was a huge fan of his dad Harry Caray during the ‘80s while watching the Cubs on WGN, but Skip became a favorite of mine as well. I don’t really give a rip about the Braves, but I always enjoyed their telecasts, particularly when Skip was paired with either Ernie Johnson or Pete Van Wieren. As much as I loved Harry and his “homer-ism” histrionics as the ultimate Cub Fan/Bud Man, I loved Skip’s relaxed low-key style just as much, as well as his sardonic sense of humor, like when he would read the promos for whatever upcoming TBS late movie followed the ballgame, and no one could utter the name “Chipper Jones” quite like him. Skip wasn’t afraid to give an honest answer either, like the time in the ‘80s when Van Wieren asked him if he liked the San Diego Padres’ new uniforms. “Not really,” was Skip’s reply. None of that sugar-coating like you get from so many of today’s play-by-play guys, including Skip’s own son, Chip, who I used to really like when he was with the Cubs, but now that he’s the main voice of TBS’ Game of The Week coverage, not so much. Sadly, Chip is morphing into Joe Buck, Jr., and that’s not good. Anyway, rest in peace, Skip…
ON THE MEND
Evidently, actor Morgan Freeman is not an excellent driver, as he got banged-up pretty good the other day in a car accident near his home in Mississippi. I’m very familiar with the highway he wrecked on, as it’s the same road where my uncle used to live near the town of Charleston. I was unaware that Freeman lived in that area, and even more surprised to learn that he was driving a 1997 Toyota. One would think that an Oscar-winning actor could afford a better ride than that, but then again, an 11-year-old rice-burner actually IS a luxury car in that neck of the woods! And I suppose it’s easier for him to blend in driving a car like that than some Hummer that would stand out like that token white couple on the dance floor on “Soul Train”. Hopefully, Freeman will be up and narrating again in no time at all.
UNCLEAR OF THE CONCEPT?
I passed a church on the way home last night with a big sign promoting its upcoming Oktoberfest celebration—scheduled for September 9-13! What’s the hurry? Does this mean Christmas will be held on Thanksgiving this year, too?
MARK MY WORDS
Brett Favre playing for the New York Jets is going to be shades of Johnny Unitas with the Chargers and Joe Namath with the Rams in the ‘70s—i.e., it’s going to be ugly, folks. Meantime, I haven’t decided which is worse—the way Favre has dominated the preseason headlines on ESPN, or the way the Michael Vick thing did at this time last year. In both cases, their omnipresence is suffocating.
I’D RATHER WALK!
I heard on the news last night that the venerable JetBlue airline will now start charging passengers $10 a head (literally) for pillows! Why don’t the airlines just jack up the airfares instead of nickel-and-diming people over every little amenity in flight? Meantime, an easy way to circumvent this silly charge is to just roll up a pair of sweatpants in your carry-on bag—they make great pillows in a pinch…
CLASSIC MISHEARD LYRIC #92
“Happiness Is A Warm Gun”—THE BEATLES (1968) “Mother Superior jumped the gun.” It took me a few spins to figure out that Lennon wasn’t singing “Mothers who fear it jump the gun.”
BEST OF THE WORST
I read somewhere on the ‘Net the other day that the late George Carlin and the late Richard Pryor were both voted the greatest comedians of all-time. No argument there in either case, but it got me to wondering who the worst comedians of all-time are. Here’s my list:
10) Frank Caliendo (His John Madden impressions are impressive, but that’s about it)
9) Sinbad (This guy has yet to make me laugh)
8) Richard Belzer (Ditto)
7) Jimmie Walker (About as jive as you can get)
6) Martin Mull (Martin Dull is more accurate)
5) Father Guido Sarducci (He’s a great cure for insomnia)
4) Bob Saget (Laughing at one’s own jokes is never the sign of a good comedian)
3) Al Franken (This guy is just a snarky smart-ass to me, and his political leanings are totally irrelevant in my eyes)
2) Chevy Chase (Overrated as all get-out for that first season on “SNL”)
1) [tie] Carrot Top/Pauly Shore (Self-explanatory)
If I'm not mistaken, this is an ashtray, correct? If so, why does it display the "No smoking" symbol on the bottom of it? And what the hell was it doing in my "Non-smoking" hotel room?
Check out the view from my hotel room in downtown San Francisco! One of the reasons why I wanted to stay downtown was to be able to look out on something besides pigeon poop and a brick wall. I felt like I'd stepped aboard a time machine in this old 1920's vintage hotel that Super 8 had taken over, complete with old-time fire escape out front and narrow alley in between. I only wish Super 8 hadn't neglected to mention when I made my reservation that there was no free off-street parking, and that it would cost me 20 semolians a night for valet parking.
It took a little work once I got to this cemetery in Whittier, but I finally found the grave of my man Curly Howard from the Three Stooges. A previous visitor attempted to spell out "NYUK, NYUK, NYUK" with rocks on the concrete slab. Jerome Horwitz, you died way too young, but thanks for the laughs, ya knucklehead!
Interesting piece of art here that adorns the L.A. Memorial Coliseum—anatomically-correct, yet headless, humanoids?!? Obee-kaybee...
Believe it or not, this critter was sleeping when I snapped this pic at the famed San Diego Zoo. I can now also truthfully say I've seen a flamingo take a dump!
...why there would be any reason whatsoever to bring a dog to a ballgame? That's about as pointless as bringing an infant child to a game, like the people who sat behind me did at the Giants game. Speaking of dogs in public, I couldn't believe the number of people out and about in L.A. with those pathetic little Paris Hilton dogs.
This would be the infamous Viper Room, out front of which actor River Phoenix bit the big one in 1993 after inhaling practically every intoxicant known to mankind all at once. Dumbass.
It was on this corner on Hollywood Blvd. that actor William Frawley, better known as Fred Mertz on "I Love Lucy", suffered a fatal heart attack in 1966. He died just up the block after being dragged to the lobby of the notorious Knickerbocker Hotel, where he used to live for over 30 years. The "Knick" was also once home to former Stooge Larry Fine until he suffered a debilitating stroke in 1970, and it was the scene of the suicidal leap of famed costume designer Irene Gibbons in 1962. Scenes from The Graduate were filmed there, as well, and now it serves as an old-folks home. No doubt about it, Hollywood is a trivia haven!
This would be the men's room in Will Rogers Park in Beverly Hills where singer George Michael was busted by an undercover cop for spanking his monkey there in 1998. Georgie Porgie naturally claimed his arrest was "entrapment". More like a colossal career-killing brain fart, Georgie boy...
...and the bum lies by the bay..."
Into our ever-increasingly short attention span society now comes the advent of TV screens at gas pumps. Doctor's waiting rooms are fine places for TVs, but at the gas pump? The price of gas is high enough—what do we need this shit for? How much time does one normally spend at the pump—five minutes? Granted most of that five minutes was nothing but commercials, but I didn't really need to see highlights from David Letterman from the night before while pumping my gas, either.
