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I quote him often on here, and for good reason—along with Robin Williams and the late Richard Pryor, George Carlin is probably the most influential stand-up comedian of my generation, and just one damn funny dude. George turns 70 today, if you can believe that. His observations about little everyday minutiae and the quirks of the English language are brilliant, and even though he's turned into a bit of a curmudgeon in recent years, he can still pack a punch with his humor—if you catch him on the right night, that is. I was lucky enough to have an older sister who bought Carlin's albums back in the '70s, so I was exposed to his work at a very early age (probably earlier than I should have been), and it didn't take me long to memorize most of his routines, which I would often recite verbatim to friends and classmates. I even had the temerity to do one of George's bits for a 7th grade Speech class! I hated having to memorize stuff on the fly, and the topic was "humorous interpretation", so since I knew his stuff inside and out anyway, I did his routine "Some Werds" from the Toledo Window Box album (not to be confused with the seven dirty ones bit!), which included lines like, "a bone is like a crumb...if you break a crumb in half you don't have two half-a-crumbs—you got two crumbs!" The teacher had this jaundiced look on her face at first when I announced I was doing a G. Carlin work, but I never uttered one objectionable curse word, and she actually gave me a B+ for my efforts! In fact, one of the funniest Carlin albums you'll ever hear is called Take-Offs & Put-Ons, which was recorded in 1965 before it was fashionable to use swear words in public. Just goes to show that the man was funny, whether he was "dirty" or not...
George's "Seven Dirty Words..." bit is the stuff of legend, of course, but his work goes well beyond that. Another Carlin classic is his "Baseball and Football" routine, which never seems to get old, no matter how often you hear it. "Baseball is played on a diamond in a park—the baseball park; Football is played on a gridiron in a stadium—WAR Memorial Stadium!" George also coined another phrase that I just love regarding the sport of lacrosse: "Lacrosse isn't a sport—it's a faggot college activity!" And regarding NASCAR, George sez, "Who cares who wins these things—it's the same five rednecks every week anyway...I wanna see a multi-car pile-up and a car fire!" I could go on and on, but you get the idea...
I had the good fortune to meet Mr. Carlin about 20 years ago and got his otto-graph. My friend Tom and I attended his performance at the Midland Theater in K.C. in 1987, and we were heading back to the car after the show when we spotted a limo parked outside a door marked "Stage Door". I skeptically figured it was a decoy and that George was long gone already, but we waited around a few minutes anyway, and sure enough, George and his entourage emerged from the building, thus Tom and I hastily scampered back across 13th St. to meet him. I remember he was wearing a white ZZ Top ballcap, and I remarked, "Hey, another ZZ Top fan!" George politely signed my show program and said, "I noticed you two skulking across the street, there," and to this day, every time I hear the word "skulking", I think of George Carlin...
Sadly (and perhaps predictably) George's career has soured a bit over the last ten years or so. There was his rather questionable foray into TV sitcom land in the mid-'90s with "The George Carlin Show", where he was very much out-of-his-element. He also put out a CD in 1999 called You Are All Diseased that was so hateful and full of vitriol that I actually deleted it from my collection without even burning a copy first. What was once bitingly satirical humor had turned into mean-spirited rancor. Although he has done some slightly funnier stuff since then, he still seems to want to milk the "bitter old man" shtick for all it's worth. It's somewhat understandible—George's longtime wife Brenda died the day before his 60th birthday, and it's not too hard to see how that could harden one's heart, but I was quite disheartened to read a couple years back when Carlin actually turned on members of his own audience in Las Vegas and started berating them—very uncool, George! These folks paid good money to see you perform, dude—don't be ripping your own people, even if you do have issues with them! Predictably, he blamed it on some pain medication he was on and promptly went into rehab. Sure, right, whatever...
Still and all, none of that diminishes what has been an outstanding career, George is one of those comedians who makes you think after listening to him, and one Carlin routine resonates with me more than all the others, and it's all about religion. I'll just warn you now—those of you who are religious at all would best be advised to steer clear here, lest ye be offended, because it so accurately encapsulates how I feel about organized religion:
"Religion has actually convinced people that there's an invisible man living in the sky, who watches everything you do—every minute of every day—and the invisible man has a special list of ten things he does not want you to do—and if you do ANY of these ten things, He has a special place, full of fire and smoke and burning and torture and anguish, where He will send you to live and suffer and burn and choke and scream and cry forever and ever until the end of time—BUT, He loves you..."
To paraphrase George's own early '70s bit about the late Ed Sullivan: "Thanks, George!...A little maudlin, gang, but thanks, George!"
A TACTICAL ERROR ON THEIR PART?
The big highway message boards around KC the last couple weeks keep warning motorists about some "Aggressive Driving Enforcement Zone—April 26-May 22". Dumb question, but why are the law enforcement types even tipping their hand here? Call me crazy, but it seems to me that the element of surprise would be the key element in nabbing these miscreants...
A BOOT TO THE HEAD...
...to the hateful-looking skank with the tattoos who was being mean to her little girl at Margarita's Mexican restaurant this afternoon while I was trying to enjoy my chicken burrito. The little girl was just being a little girl, but this be-yatch expected her to stand at attention the entire time they were there. I may be guilty of judging books by covers here, but I'd bet my next paycheck this child was born out of wedlock, and this whore probably has a different boyfriend every other weekend. This is one of those times when I truly wish they'd make it mandatory for people to fill out an application in order to breed...
ANOTHER BOOT TO THE HEAD...
...to all these people with those little earpiece cell phone things. As G. Carlin once said, "Technology has brought us these self-important twits." Call me old-school all you want, but I am so sick of these fuckers at the grocery store going around acting important and jabbering away, while I think they're actually speaking to me at first until I spot that high-tech Q-Tip in their ear! And while I'm at it—what is so bloody important that can't wait until you get home to talk about anyway? This is precisely why I don't even own a cell phone—I like being inaccessible!
CLASSIC MISHEARD LYRIC #31
"Back In The U.S.S.R."—THE BEATLES (1968) "On the way the paperback was on my knee/Man, I had a dreadful flight…" I always thought Paul had a paper bag on his knee! Who knows what was actually in that paper bag, too!
NASA WARNS OF MORE "SCORCHING SUMMERS" IN THE EASTERN U.S.
Ya think? Well, that's a damn sight better than "Scorching Winters", I dare say! Summers are supposed to scorch, you big dummies!
VICK THE DICK?
Lots of controversy surrounding Atlanta Falcons QB Michael Vick today, as some folks who personally know him are claiming that he was/is well-aware of and has an "affinity" for the literal dog-eat-dog shenanigans that have allegedly been going on lately at a home that he owns in Virginia. These allegations may or may not be true, but one thing's for sure—young master Vick has this bad habit of stepping on his own winky—whilst wearing spiked golf shoes...
DUMBEST TV COMMERCIAL CAMPAIGNS--THE CURRENT STANDINGS
1) Enzyte "male enhancement" products (all)
2) eHarmony.com (all)
3) Enterprise Rent-A-Car (all)
4) Sonic Drive-Ins (w/the two dorks in the minivan)
5) Geico Insurance (w/cavemen)
6) Allstate Insurance (w/the Dennis Haysbert lectures)
7) Geico Insurance (w/the babbling gecko)
8) Subway Restaurants (w/Jared)
9) FreeCreditReport.com (w/that "I'm thinking of a number" pussy)
10) Hanes bras and panties (w/some artsy-fartsy female dance troupe prancing around in their ugly-ass underwear and looking utterly silly)
5) Double Platinum/Smashes, Thrashes & Hits song remixes As I’ve stated before, I take a real dim view when bands and/or producers screw with the integrity of their own original recordings. Nothing wrong with going back and doing remixes to clean up the sound quality or remove defects, but it chafes my hiney no end when they start making major changes to the recordings like overdubbing new vocals or guitar parts or drum machines or whatever, and that’s what Kiss did on their first two best-of compilations, 1978’s Double Platinum and 1988’s lamely-titled Smashes, Thrashes & Hits. Smashes contains noticeably-different mixes of "Love Gun" and "Rock And Roll All Nite", and in a very heinous move, they substituted Peter Criss’ original vocal on "Beth" with that of the late Eric Carr. I don’t fault Carr so much here because he was really desperate to get a lead vocal on any Kiss record. Gene and Paul would give a couple tunes to Eric to sing in concert, but their egos were too fragile to allow another talented singer like him to grab a little of the spotlight on record, so he seized the opportunity to sing here, but I always thought it was very insulting to Peter Criss—"Beth" is his baby, pure and simple! In some cases, they simply re-cut songs altogether, like "Strutter ‘78" on Platinum, where they added a totally unnecessary disco-y beat to the song. Mind you, they didn’t do this to every track on those albums, but what I’m saying is if you’re so proud of your previous output, then why fuck with it?
4) Eric Singer in Peter’s make-up/Tommy Thayer in Ace’s In a move that pissed off more than a few Kiss fans (me included), when Peter Criss parted company with the band for the second time in 2001, Gene and Paul compounded the situation by bringing drummer Eric Singer back to the band and having him wear Criss’ cat make-up and costume for their overseas tours. Criss later returned briefly in 2003 for a tour, but when Ace Frehley left for good in 2002, he was also replaced with a facsimile, former Black ‘N’ Blue guitarist Tommy Thayer, who’d previously been "Ace" in a Kiss tribute band, and was also part of the Kiss technical staff on the road. Singer and Thayer are both good soldiers and very good musicians as well, but I would’ve much preferred to see Kiss retire the make-up and costumes for good after the original four broke up the second time and if Gene and Paul wanted to continue making new music under the band’s name with Singer and Thayer (or Bruce Kulick), then fine and dandy. Everything that’s transpired since the so-called "Farewell" tour in 2000 has made this group look more like a Kiss tribute band than the real McCoy—sorta like when Willie Mays played for the Mets...
3) Dynasty/Unmasked/Music From The Elder Kiss was a very fractured band following the release of the four solo albums in 1978, and the period from ‘79 to ’81 was downright strange, as the band had no real musical direction during that time. They had lost their edge, and were trying to appeal to too-wide an audience, and the whole thing pretty much disintegrated over three of the weakest albums in the band’s history. Not that there weren’t some good songs on Dynasty—"I Was Made For Lovin’ You" has aged remarkably well in almost 30 years and "Sure Know Something" is one of Paul Stanley’s finer vocal performances. Problem was, this stuff just wasn’t Kiss! The hardcore fan base that had been brought up on "Deuce", "Cold Gin" and "Black Diamond" felt disenfranchised, and rightfully so. Although the band still rocked-out in concert, they were wimping-out on record, big-time. Actually, Unmasked really wasn’t a bad record at all—if it had been done by a different band. It would have made a great Toto or Eddie Money album, or a really edgy Billy Joel album instead. In fact, on the song "She’s So European", if you didn’t know any better, you’d almost swear that it was the Piano Man himself singing instead of Gene Simmons. As for Elder—an ambitious but ill-advised concept album intended to impress the critics—it was just plain weird hearing Paul Stanley singing about "a child in a sun dress" and other Harry Potter-ish fantasy clap-trap. A couple tracks do rock out here, namely "The Oath" and "Escape From The Island" (a rare Kiss instrumental), and right at the end of the final track "I", we hear the call-to-arms from Gene when he screams, "I wanna Rock and Roll all night!" This signaled the end of this three-year "Lost Weekend", as their next album would be much harder and heavier and return the band to its former glory.
2) Kiss Meets The Phantom of The Park "A Hard Day’s Night meets Star Wars", as Paul Stanley described the original concept of the 1978 made-for-TV Kiss movie, Phantom is one of those classic "seemed like a brilliant idea at the time" deals—and a monumental flop too. It didn’t seem as bad to me when I was 14 as it does today, and boy, is it bad! Loaded with dreadful dialogue that sounds like it was written by 3rd-graders, a hokey storyline, and simply awful acting all around—and most of that came from the professional stiffs they hired for this thing! At least the band had an excuse—they weren’t trained actors. It didn’t help that the movie was produced by the Hanna-Barbera folks, better known for their Saturday morning cartoon fare—can you imagine the possibilities if say, George Lucas or Steven Spielberg had directed? The film was beset with problems anyway, as Peter Criss and Ace Frehley were easily bored and got fed up with waiting around for shooting to begin—Ace actually got in his car one day and drove off in his full costume and make-up. And here’s a blunder within a blunder: during the scene where the "evil" Kiss faced off with the real Kiss, Ace’s double was a black guy in full make-up and identical costume, but Frehley had to point out to the director that the guy’s hands were still black, so they outfitted him with a pair of flesh-colored gloves. There’s another scene that supposed to be the real Ace, but you can easily tell it’s the black guy just by the size of his lips (no racism intended here). Must’ve been the day Ace drove off...
1) Carnival of Souls This is the one Kiss album I absolutely abhor. Of everything they’ve ever released, this is the ONLY Kiss CD I ever seriously wanted my money back for. Even Music From The Elder blows this piece of crap away. You’d think Elder would’ve taught Gene and Paul a lesson, but once again, Kiss decided to try and impress the critics instead of the fans by not remaining true to themselves and by making a record they had no business making. I’ve had this CD for ten years now, and I think I’ve maybe played it from start-to-finish four times, at most. It was recorded sometime around 1994 as the follow-up to the somewhat overlooked Revenge CD from ’92, but sat on the shelf for three years while the whole reunion thing happened with Ace and Peter returning, and thank goodness they did, because if this pile of excrement was the direction the band was heading musically, I might’ve disowned them. In a nutshell, it was Kiss trying to sound like Soundgarden and all those other crappy Seattle grunge bands that were hot at that time, and the result was beyond pathetic. Revenge was a heavy album, yes, but it was bright and had a positive vibe to it—not dark and depressing like Carnival, which was just a lame attempt at aimless, boring, gloom-and-doom slacker music for all those Gen X-ers to commiserate to. There’s a world of difference between "I’m a War Machine," with all its cartoonish macho bravado and "Hate—that’s what I am," with its dark and foreboding tone. I could just picture the accompanying tour for the album, if it had ever happened: Gene and Paul wearing flannel shirts and ugly green sweaters with stocking caps looking like a couple Mountain Dew adrenaline junkies on skateboards. COS was the only Kiss album that got zero stars from me...
You wanted the fuck-ups—you got the fuck-ups! As I've previously noted on this here blog, Kiss is my favorite band on Earth in this hemisphere, but they aren't above a little reproach now and then. The Hottest Band In The World has made its fair share of missteps over the past 35 years or so, and in best "They can't do that to our pledges—only WE can do that to our pledges" tradition, please allow a true Kiss fan to lampoon those times when those Gotham Ghouls went astray...
10) Creatures Of The Night album cover In one of this band’s most innocuous yet curious moves, their 1982 comeback album Creatures Of The Night has been issued with two different cover photos, neither of which featured the actual lead guitarist who played on the record. Upon its initial release, COTN’s original cover featured the beautifully spooky shot of the band’s faces in full make-up over a dark blue backdrop with their eyes glowing brightly รก la the "I Love It Loud" video. It’s unclear to this day who actually played lead guitar on COTN—depending on who you ask, Vinnie Vincent played a little on it (and did co-write three tracks), Bruce Kulick’s brother Bob played on a few tracks, and heaven knows, Eddie Van Halen may have dropped in for a session or two. But what is clear is that neither Ace Frehley (whose face adorns the original cover) nor Bruce Kulick played a note on this record, which makes the 1985 re-issue of the album with a new cover photo featuring Bruce and the band without make-up (and not looking very Creature-like, either) a total mystery. In addition to the new front cover, the cool original back cover featuring a lightning-streaked dark sky was replaced by someone's leather-clad butt (Gene's or Paul's, I presume). They also remixed a couple songs in places and even flip-flopped two tracks in the batting order ("Saint & Sinner" and "Killer") for reasons unknown. Order was eventually restored (literally and figuratively) in 1997 when PolyGram released the Kiss remasters, and COTN reverted back to its original cover, track lineup and sound mix.
9) Vinnie Vincent 
Ol’ "Ankh Head" was a pretty decent songwriter ("I Love It Loud", "I Still Love You", "Lick It Up" and "Young And Wasted" were all co-written by him), and he also co-wrote for other groups like The Bangles, but he was a very average guitar player, at best, and a megalomaniac to boot, thus his tenure with Kiss was a short one. V.V. was a stop-gap replacement for Ace Frehley for the ill-fated Creatures Of The Night tour—even I wasn’t aware that Ace had left the band until literally the night of a Kiss concert at Municipal Auditorium on March 1, 1983. My reaction to him was not unlike that of most Kiss fans: "Who the fuck is this guy?" Unlike the way AC/DC fans took to Brian Johnson almost immediately after replacing the late Bon Scott, Kiss fans didn’t embrace Vincent at all (probably because Ace was still very much alive), and Vinnie did nothing to make us forget our favorite Space Man/Plumber. His guitar solos were weak and all sounded the same, and he looked (for the lack of a better term) kinda faggy, both with and without make-up. True, Paul Stanley has made a career out of gender-bending to a degree, but he looks a lot cooler doing it and has far more charisma. Vinnie also let his own ego get the best of him, expecting the band to treat him as an equal, even though he was basically a hired hand who had yet to earn his stripes, and he eventually got the heave in ‘84. Gene Simmons even tried to make peace with the guy and throw him a bone by recording a couple of V.V.’s songs for 1992’s Revenge album, and Vinnie managed to piss all over that venture too. Vinnie Vincent had all sorts of potential, but was his own worst enemy.
8) The Kiss caskets 
Of all the merchandizing Kiss has done over the years—everything from posters to t-shirts to dolls to condoms to pinball machines—the most crass offering of all has to be the Kiss caskets that have been on the market about five years or so now. Yes folks, for about $3,000, you can go to your final reward in style and line Gene Simmons’ bank account at the same time! For those of you who opt for cremation, I’m sure they have Kiss urns available as well. "Death, I hear you calling…"
7) Asylum-era wardrobe It’s a mystery what the band was thinking when they wore such gaudy outfits on-stage and in the videos for the 1985 Asylum album. We’re talking loud day-glo colors, sequins, boas, evening gloves, the works—it was as if Kiss had raided Phyllis Diller’s closet! Even Gene Simmons expresses complete dismay looking back on the subject: "I looked like a drag queen…" It’s too bad that the tacky wardrobe choices (and hideous album cover) overshadowed what I think was a damn good record.
6) Gene’s acting career After Kiss took off the make-up in 1983, Gene Simmons could no longer fall back on his alter-ego demon persona, so to compensate for it, his insatiable ego got the best of him and he answered the call of Hollywood and became a serious actor in movies and on TV—much to the band’s detriment. It was at this point that Kiss became a hobby for Gene, and he basically phoned things in musically for quite a while, particularly on 1984’s Animalize, where Paul Stanley practically carried the band on his shoulders, producing the record himself and playing some of Gene’s bass parts in addition to his usual roles. They even imported Jean Beavoir of The Plasmatics to do some of the bass work, and the songs that Gene did manage to contribute to that album were all pretty half-assed, at best. This is not to say Gene was a bad actor—he was actually quite good, especially in Runaway with Tom Selleck and in his guest appearances on TV shows like "Miami Vice" and HBO’s "The Hitchhiker", and he even got blown up by Rutger Hauer in Wanted-Dead or Alive—but it was obvious his head was elsewhere when it came to the band. This pattern continued off-and-on through the rest of the ‘80s, with Gene diluting himself even further by also running his own record company, signing and producing other bands like Keel, EZO and Giuffria on top of the movie stuff until Stanley finally got in Gene’s face and told him to knock off the extracurricular stuff in the early ‘90s.
TRUMAN NATURE
Today would’ve been Harry S. Truman’s 123rd birthday. Remember that gawdawful song Chicago did in 1975 that went "America needs you, Harry Truman…" in tribute to our 33rd President? Dreadful song, but the sentiments therein are still very applicable these days—we could sure use a "no bullshit" leader like him now around these parts. It was pretty cool growing up in an area with an ex-President practically in our back yard—having the Truman Library and his home in nearby Independence made me feel a bit more in touch with history when I was kid. I clearly remember the long ordeal and the nightly news updates when he was dying during the Christmas holiday season of ’72 and how bummed I was that Harry didn’t live to see the finished product of the Truman Sports Complex (Royals/Kauffman Stadium didn’t open until the following April). I also remember Dad and my brother and I boarding the shuttle bus in the stadium parking lot for the ride over to the Truman Library and standing in the long line for over four hours on that sunny but frigid Winter afternoon to pay our respects when Truman laid in state. My old man—a staunch Republican—was still a fan of H.S.T., and I was always grateful that he took me out there that day.
Keep giving ‘em hell, Harry, wherever you are…
MEET THE NEW BOSS…
France has a newly-elected president, one Nicolas Sarkozy. Hmmm—doesn’t sound all that French to me, but I’ll patiently await the verdict from the panel of experts at Faux News Channel on whether or not the man actually looks French…
WELL, ISN’T THAT SPECIAL?
For the second straight year, over-the-hill pitcher Roger Clemens has decided to start his season two months later than everyone else by signing with the Yankees for several bajillion dollars. What the fuck is this "I’ll start pitching whenever I get around to it" crap? This ain’t the PGA or tennis where you are your own entity and can play whenever you feel like it—baseball is a TEAM sport! I don’t care if Clemens is a sure-shot Hall of Famer, either—he should be expected to go through Spring Training and start the season on time just like everyone else instead of this mercenary "here I come to save the day" bullshit he pulls every year. He doesn’t even have to accompany the team on road trips now when he’s not scheduled to pitch, either. Mr. "Rocket Man" is totally self-serving, not to mention a complete jerk too. I hope some National League pitcher beans him right on his fat head in his first plate appearance during Interleague play.
Oh by the way, did I mention that I don’t really like Roger Clemens very much? Don’t want to mislead you or anything…
And of course, ESPN will have their hype machine running at full-capacity when Clemens finally does get going this year, just as they do with all the other sports figures they obsess over and waste so much "SportsCenter" airtime on like Barry Bonds, Terrell Owens, Bill Parcells, Michelle Wie, LeBron James, Kobe Bryant, Brett Favre, et al. This may be a looooong summer…
MOVIE REVIEW
In between thunderstorms and bailing out my crawl space the other night, I managed to work in the film Little Children on DVD. It reminded me of Crash from two years ago in that I neither truly liked it or disliked it, but it still managed to hold my interest throughout, for some reason. Getting to see Kate Winslet nekkid and having sexual relations was definitely an asset, but it was actually a fairly interesting story with a few quirks, too. I can also see why Jackie Earle Haley got the Best Supporting Actor Oscar nod too—he creeped me out pretty good and was quite convincing as the sex offender/ weirdo. Not the greatest film I’ve ever seen, but well worth a look. About a B-minus on my scale.
WELCOME TO "WHITE TRASH THEATER"…
Don’t know about you, but I’m already tired of this new trend in celebrity schmuck-dom being perpetrated by spiteful spouses/ex-wives and/or their children, as in the case of Alec Baldwin’s vitriolic voice mail message and David Hasselhoff’s drunk-off-his-ass videotape that are currently making the rounds on YouTube and on regular TV. In both cases, the spouses are claiming innocence in the whole matter as to how these things got released to the media in the first place. The ex-Mrs. Hasselhoff was on "Larry King Live" last night denying everything, and overrated whore Kim Basinger (Mrs. Baldwin) has been doing same in the media. In the words of Mr. Dylan, "Let us not talk falsely now…"
Yes, I know this crap is mere fodder for the tabloid media and all, and all the masses out there eat this stuff up because they are shallower than shit, but once again I must quote Chairman Townshend: "Why should I care? WHY should I care?" As for the above celebrities: go fight your fucking battles in private. As for the masses: get a fucking life, America!
CLASSIC MISHEARD LYRIC #30
"Brass In Pocket (I’m Special)"—THE PRETENDERS (1980) This song never did make a lot of sense to me until I sat down to read the lyrics, and strangely enough, it still doesn't! "Detroit leaning"—what’s that mean? "A wink and a tail" sounds like "When can I tell?" and "Gonna use my sidestep" sounded to me like "Gonna use my sausage"! Was Chrissie hiding something in her pants she didn’t want us to know about? Coincidentally, when my big sister took me to see The Who when I was 15 in April of ‘80, The Pretenders opened for them. Sis knew nothing about the group prior to the concert, and actually thought Chrissie Hynde was a dude at first!
WHAT’S THAT SMELL?
There is now a team in that NFL Europa league in Cologne, Germany. Can’t you just picture the headlines following a bad loss—"Cologne Stinks It Up." They also have a team called the Rhein Fire—"I’ve seen Fire and I’ve seen Rhein"? The league itself has changed monikers several times: it was previously NFL Europe, and before that, the WLAF (World League of America Football), or "Waffle League" as David Letterman once referred to it—"You can’t spell waffle without W-L-A-F!"
There ain't no holdin' the Mayo going on today! Well, except maybe at Ted Nugent's house...
JUST HORSING AROUND
It's the first Saturday in May, thus it's Kentucky Derby day. Great tradition, great spectacle and all, but ain't it just a tad warped that NBC does an hour-and-a-half pre-game show for something that barely lasts two minutes? They had commercial breaks longer than the race was. Churchill Downs certainly looks so elegant in all its equine splendor on TV, but most people would be as surprised as I was about where it's located. I always pictured the track to be situated outside of the city somewhere in a country club-like setting, so imagine my shock during a recent trip to Lou-Ville when I found the place bordering a fairly seedy urban neighborhood. To my Kansas City friends, picture the Leeds District and you'll get the idea.
As for the race itself, my pick to win, Stormello (based solely on his cool name) was actually in 4th place rounding the third turn then faded away like Ricky Martin's career. A horse named Street Sense won the race, and his jockey was crying like Nancy Kerrigan when it was over. Sorry, dude--there's no crying in horse racing!! Meantime, I think they need to spice up horse racing a little to raise interest in the sport. Apart from the obvious idea of topless female jockeys, there are other things they could try to make it a little more fun. I say we make it a joint effort between horse and jockey—as soon as they cross the finish line, the jockeys should dismount and then run a full lap themselves...
WHATEVER!
The current Al-Quida second banana—Mukka-Lukka Al-So-and-So—is said to be mocking the Iraq war pull-out bill that was laid before Congress this week. So?!? Why the hell is this even newsworthy? These towel-headed Allah-loving bastards are going to mock anything the U.S. does anyway, so why does the news media bother to even give these douche-bags the publicity they're looking for? I say fuck them and the camels they rode in on...
KNOW WHEN TO SAY WHEN
I suspected this all along, but was hoping all the same that the cause of St. Louis Cardinals pitcher Josh Hancock's death this week was not alcohol-related, yet it indeed was. Moreover, it was also marijuana-related and cell phone-related. Okay, we ALL do dumb things, and I do my fair share of imbibing, to be sure, but I do so responsibly and I do NOT get behind the wheel when I know I'm too fucked-up to drive. So, at the risk of sounding hypocritical and/or cold-hearted, I just have one word to say about the dearly departed: DUMBASS.
CLASSIC MISHEARD LYRIC #29
"Travelin’ Man/Beautiful Loser"—BOB SEGER & THE SILVER BULLET BAND (1975) "A perfect lodger/a perfect guest." Dopey me—I thought he said "A perfect logic/a perfect guess." I don’t suppose Mr. Spock would have been too impressed with my logic there…
IF YOU EVER GET TOTALLY BORED...
...and want to have a little harmless fun, try watching a baseball game on TV sometime in front of a mirror. You lose all orientation when the batter appears to start heading to third base after he hits the ball! My guess is it's probably not unlike driving a car on the "wrong side" of the road in England for the first time. It's even more fun during a game broadcast from Fenway Park in Boston with the Green Monster on the wrong side. Yes—I know I need to get a life...
A TALE OF IN-DUH-VIDUALISM
I submitted the following the almighty Dilbert newsletter, but it has yet to be published: A few years back at a previous employer, they had just installed a new phone system throughout the building, but encountered some problems early on, so our manager sent out a memo to everyone. "If you have any problems making calls or if your phone doesn't work, please contact me at Extension A or Jackie at Extension B." Dumb question, but if my phone doesn't work, how am I gonna contact anyone at Ext. A or B?!? The appropriate question in this case wasn't "Who you gonna call?" but "How you gonna call?"
D'OH!
My beloved New Jersey Devils went down to defeat in the Stanley Cup Playoffs tonight at the hands of the Ottawa Senators, losing 3-2 in Game 5 of the best-of-seven series. My devotion to the Devils was borne in part because the franchise began life as the Kansas City Scouts in 1974, then moved to Denver and became the Colorado Rockies (not to be confused with the current baseball squad of the same name) in '76, eventually settling in with Jimmy Hoffa in the swamps of Joysey 25 years ago in '82. However, what really drew me to this team was how crappy they were for so long (not even making the playoffs until the early '90s) and how I love to root for an underdog, so I've been on their bandwagon from almost the get-go. Three Stanley Cups in the last 12 years ain't nothing to sneeze at, either. How many Stanley Cups have the overpaid New York Strangers snagged in the last 12 years, hmmm? I also love the Devils because they have the coolest uniforms in the NHL as well as how their name pisses off overly-conservative รผber-Christians everywhere, plus Martin Brodeur is the baddest goaltender in hockey—a sure-shot Hall of Famer. Better luck next year, gentlemen...
Wow, almost five months to the day after I started this little venture, and I’ve already reached the Mendoza Line for number of posts. Maybe I should switch from "Sir Rant-A-Lot" to "Sir Post-A-Lot"…
BIG PAIN IN THE BUTTOCKS
I had a mini-catastrophe last night here at the ol’ homestead when I went to plug in my submersible pump in my crawl space and slipped on the wet wooden steps and landed right smack on my kiester! I didn’t break anything on my body, but my ass managed to break off the front edge of the step. Not sure whether or not I should be proud that my ass can break wood or not—it breaks enough wind as it is. I’m actually fortunate I landed where I did instead of on the cinder blocks at the top of the steps, too—I might be in the hospital now. As it was, I wound up with some abrasions on my left hand, a bruise at the base of my right thumb (inflicted by my flashlight), a wounded ego and a slightly dislocated left rump, plus I’m sore all over today from the impact. In sports parlance, I’d be listed as "day-to-day" on the injury report. Then again, aren’t we all day-to-day?
R.I.P. TOMMY NEWSOM
Former "Tonight Show" musician and substitute bandleader Tommy Newsom died earlier this week at age 78. Tommy would fill in for Doc Severinsen as bandleader from time to time, and was often the butt of Johnny Carson’s jokes about his "wild" lifestyle. He was always the penultimate straight man and a good sport about it, too. R.I.P., "Mr. Excitement"…
CLASSIC MISHEARD LYRIC #28
"She’s A Lady"—TOM JONES (1971) "She’s got style, she’s got grace—she’s a winner." Not so, according to my seven-year-old ears—the woman was a "weiner"!
A BOOT TO THE HEAD...
...to the lady in front of me in the Express Lane at the grocery store tonight who bought $14 worth of stuff and paid for it with a $100 bill. The checkout girl didn't even have enough twenties to make change for her. Thanks for making everybody wait, lady! And please tell me why is it grocery stores allow check-writing in the Express Lane? Kinda defeats the whole purpose of having the blasted thing in the first place, don't it?
SAME AS IT EVER WAS…
Well, there have been a few important news stories the last couple weeks, like the Pat Tillman/Jessica Lynch testimony before Congress, the Virginia Tech massacre and the whole Atty. Gen. Gonzales flap, but in TV News Land, they're long forgotten already. "Why is this?" I asked myself. Then a quick scan of the channels last night reminded me—it's May Sweeps time. George Carlin was absolutely right about America: "It’s a great country, but it’s a strange culture." TV news producers will have you believe that people want to see the same old crap every night that generates big ratings rather than important news stories.
Behold the following that I observed on the tube last night: There was Anna Nicole Smith’s mother blubbering away on MSNBC, and on CNN Headline they were already back on the Don Imus thing (he’s now suing CBS for his 40 bajillion-dollar salary) because Al Sharpton was on there grandstanding again. And the Larry King lovefest continued on regular CNN as they celebrate his 50 years in broadcasting—never mind the fact that no one knew who the hell he was for the first 20. Man, if there was ever someone for whom the phrase "a face made for radio" applies, it’s him. And over on "Calamity & Holmes" on Faux News Channel, guests Ann Coulter and Ted Nugent were busy labeling those of us who want to see the war in Iraq end ASAP as being unsupportive of our troops. Fuck, I want them home and out of harm’s way NOW—if that ain’t being supportive of them, then what the hell is?
I have a question for all you conservatives out there: How come it's NOT okay for singers like Bruce Springsteen and the Dixie Chicks and all those "Hollywood types" to express their political opinions against the Bush Administration and the war in Iraq because they are merely entertainers who should just keep their big yaps shut, yet singers like Ted Nugent, Charlie Daniels and Toby Keith, as well as a "Hollywood type" like Charlton Heston are your "go to" guys to be cheerleaders for the Republican party? I don't see much difference—aren't those guys entertainers who should just keep their big yaps shut, too? All I hear from these people, as well as the likes of Hannity, O'Reilly, Limbaugh, Buchanan, Robertson, Will, Coulter, Malkin, Krauthammer, Murdoch, McCain, et al, is a lot of hackneyed posturing and over-reliance on the same old shop-worn Bush Administration semantics about patriotism and supporting the troops. Mission accomplished, my ass...
I made one other little observation last night: I think the rumors might be true after all—Ann Coulter is a transsexual! I swear, that woman has an Adam's apple as big as Dallas in the middle of Texas! Don't believe me? Watch the video from last night, if you dare, but be forewarned—you may be hit by flying bull!
ONE FINAL RANT
Here's a little nugget from that ol' gas bag Rush Limbaugh from a couple weeks back: "If this Virginia Tech shooter had an ideology, what do you think it was? This guy had to be a liberal." Where the fuck did that come from? What the hell kind of logic is this? Give me a fucking break already. Why does everything with conservatives have to be one way or the other, be it black/white, liberal/conservative, right/wrong, red/blue, etc.? In case you missed it, Rush, ol' buddy, ol pal, this Cho son-of-a-bitch was a fucking psychotic, numb-nuts! It makes no difference to me whether Rush was dead serious or joking here—this kind of shit is far more reprehensible than anything Don Imus ever uttered, yet Limbaugh remains on the air? I've said it before, I'll say it again: Rush Limbaugh is a walking talking bowel movement...
Personally, I like my steals medium-rare!
Today was Journey Appreciation Day, as I tracked through all of my Journey CDs at work. Truth to tell, I have learned a new appreciation for these guys in recent years, given the dearth of decent new music over the last decade or so, and in spite of Journey being one of FM Classic Rock radio’s "go to" or "safe" bands (not unlike Boston, Foreigner and Styx) whose stuff gets disproportionately played to death. With all these crappy bands that pass for Rock ‘N’ Roll today who can’t even carry a tune with a handle (what the fuck is a Hoobastank?!?), it’s refreshing to listen to musicians who actually have some talent and a sense of melody, even if the majority of their stuff is a tad lightweight.
I'm an oddball fan of Journey in that I much prefer their "B-stuff" (i.e. deep album cuts) over the "A-stuff" that gets routinely run into the ground on the radio. In other words, I don't need to hear "Open Arms" or "Don't Stop Believin'" again anytime soon. I’m especially partial to songs from the Gregg Rolie era like "Walks Like A Lady", "Where Were You?", "People And Places" and "Line of Fire", as well as some of their later stuff with Jonathan Cain on keyboards like "Chain Reaction", "Keep On Runnin’", "Rubicon", "Lay It Down", and the very underrated "Only The Young." Another cool thing I like about Journey is how as part of the dedications and credits on their album sleeves, they would acknowledge people from other bands who had recently passed on, like the members of Lynyrd Skynyrd and Bon Scott of AC/DC. Very classy on their part, and I’ve always respected them for that.
Speaking of Gregg Rolie, I’m reminded of a funny incident that happened on the radio involving him, circa. 1979 or ‘80. The old KY-102 was doing a live on-air phone interview with Rolie, who was in Chicago at a pre-concert sound check with music blaring in the background, and he proceeded to exclaim, "Man, I can’t hear SHIT on this phone!", evidently unaware that he was actually on the radio!
And say what you will about Journey being "corporate" Rock ‘N’ Roll, but they are ALL fine musicians, particularly Neal Schon on guitar—the boy definitely knows his way around a fretboard. Their erstwhile lead singer Steve Perry has an incredible voice too, and was certainly a great frontman—but is also about as flaky as a Pillsbury pie crust! I’m still trying to make sense out of the statement he made on VH-1 Classic’s "Behind The Music": "I never really felt like I was part of the band…" Huh? And Al Davis never really owned the Oakland Raiders, right? This is the same guy who was behind the firing of the rhythm section—bassist Ross Valory and drummer Steve Smith—in 1986 for no particular reason (Valory was replaced by Randy Jackson of "American Idol" fame), yet he didn’t feel like part of the band?!? Hell, he was the freakin’ focal point of it! No wonder his girlfriend Sherrie (AKA "Oh, Sherrie") dumped him. Just as well she didn’t marry him anyway—she would've had to go through life known as Sherrie Perry. Meanwhile, Journey somehow managed to replace Perry with an almost exact replica, one Steve Augeri, who sounds and almost looks just like him ("Steve Perry with a perm", someone quipped), so all is fairly well in Journey World as they tour the nostalgia circuit.
My Journey Top Five:
1) Where Were You? (1980)
2) Rubicon (1983)
3) Line of Fire (1979)
4) Lay It Down (1981)
5) [tie] Only The Young (1984)
People and Places (1980)
It's Hump Day in more ways than one, too! Not only is it Wednesday, but it’s also Englebert Humperdinck’s birthday. Ol’ What’s-his-dinck? turned 71 today…
NOT-SO-DEARLY DEPARTED
After it spent nearly a month on my coffee table, I finally got around to viewing my Netflix DVD rental of The Departed last night, and I’d like to report that I really enjoyed it. I say I’d like to report that, but truth be told, I was majorly disappointed with this film, which was so highly-regarded by so many people. I can see now that Martin Scorsese winning the Best Director Oscar this year had more to do with his reputation and less to do with the merits of The Departed—i.e., the win was merely a "make good" for his previous Oscar snubs.
WARNING: Spoilers contained herein—reader discretion advised if you haven’t seen the film and plan to!
If you like violent and gory shoot-‘em-ups where everybody dies and nobody wins, then you’ll love this one, but I’ve grown really weary of this genre of films—I’ve seen all this before already! Departed is basically The Godfather set in 2006 in Boston, with lots of guns, lots of blood, lots of brains blown out, lots of use of the term "guineas", and major over-use of the words fuck, fucking and motherfucker. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not offended at all by those words (I use them often myself) but do they have to be every other word in the fucking—oops—freakin’ dialogue?!? Come on Hollywood, surely you can come up with more creative lines than this, even for mafia thugs and over-zealous arrogant cops!
Anyway, very few Hollywood film clichรฉs went unused in The Departed—you had the whole gamut of mafia histrionics, the whole good-cop/bad-cop dynamic, the obligatory (yet totally unnecessary) sex/fuck scene, drugs, dirty money, blah blah blah—been there, done that. This is one of those films that I couldn’t find any empathy for any of the characters (i.e., there was no good guy to root for), so maybe it’s just as well that they all bumped each other off after all. About the only thing I found even mildly refreshing and new was Martin Sheen being dropped from the top of a building and going splat on the pavement—it would’ve been even better if it was Alec Baldwin instead! Beyond that, there wasn’t anything special to me about this flick, and it certainly didn’t rate any Oscars in my book, apart from a pretty decent music soundtrack. Dare I use my favorite term again? OVERRATED!!!
OOPS! SHE SCREWED YOU AGAIN…
Some first-class suckers paid up to 125 Yankee dollars just to see a 15-minute Britney Spears concert last night. Fifteen minutes?!? My gawd—how did she ever manage to find the time between all her rehab stints and pub crawls? Even Forrest Gump wouldn’t have been dumb enough to pay a friggin’ dime to see this travesty, during which she probably didn’t even actually sing one bloody note, anyway—she most likely lip-synched the whole damn thing! Britney Spears is one of those unique people in the entertainment business whose initials also pretty much sum up her career. There was actually a fleetingly brief time there when I actually felt kinda sorry for Brit, thinking that she truly needed professional help and all, but it’s all-too-apparent that she’s just another insatiable attention-seeker and publicity hound who will keep the tabloids in business for years to come. Go away, Britney—your career is toast…
CLASSIC MISHEARD LYRIC #27
"Bennie And The Jets"—ELTON JOHN (1973) "She’s got electric boots/A mohair suit…" Had to hop aboard the ol’ Way-Back Machine for this one, courtesy of a long-forgotten 4th grade classmate of mine who swore up and down that Elton was singing "She’s got electric boobs." I actually had to show him my album jacket with the lyrics in it to prove da boy wrong. However, the concept of electric boobs has a certain appeal, doesn't it? Maybe those enterprising Guinness guys on the TV commercials can come up with something for us in their laboratory—BRILLIANT!
LET'S HEAR IT FOR THOSE IVY LEAGUE BRAINS!
An academic study of NBA officiating based on 13 years' worth of box scores uncovered this earth-shattering revelation: white referees called fouls at a greater rate against black players than against white players! Well, duh! The refs don't have much of a choice, being as nearly 3/4 of NBA players are black! Shockingly enough, this study was NOT conducted by the University of Hee-Haw, but rather by a University of Pennsylvania assistant professor and a Cornell graduate student. Methinks these guys have WAY too much time on their hands if they have to go out of their way like this to find racism.
WHOLE LOTTA ROSIE—STILL?
Okay, the conservatives got what they wanted—Rosie O’Donnell is leaving "The View". So, why are Bill O’Reilly and the three dimwits on Faux News Channel’s morning show, et al, still flapping their jaws about her? Ding, dong—the witch is gone! Let it go, and please move on to something else, already…
Speaking of Bill O’Rile-Up, I saw conservative airhead Michelle Malkin filling in for him the other night on "O’Reilly Factor" while he was off sexually harassing female co-workers again. I’ll say one thing for Ms. Malkin—she’s a major idiot, but she may well be the cutest major idiot I’ve ever seen…
WHILE I'M ON THE SUBJECT OF FAUX NEWS...
A memo to all morning TV news show producers: PLEASE 86 those damn windows behind your sets that allow all these yahoos on the streets of New York to wave vociferously at us during your morning programs! This is yet another annoying "innovation" which MTV instigated (for all those viewers with the attention span of a tse-tse fly) that has crept into TV news that needs to go away, not unlike that constantly-moving hand-held camera shtick that TV news tried for a while, too. It’s distracting as hell trying to watch someone deliver the news or conduct an interview while some jagoff is behind them on a cell phone waving like a Kansas wheat field during a tornado and screaming, "I’m on TV! I’m on TV!" The only useful purpose these windows might have would be if a concerned viewer does as George Carlin once suggested and lip-synchs, "I hope all you fucking lip-readers are looking in!"
IT’S WHAT’S UP-FRONT THAT COUNTS
One of my all-time favorite jokes—Q: What’s the difference between the Lawrence Welk Orchestra and a moose? 
A: Well for one thing, a moose has its horns in the front and its asshole in the rear!
I’m now up to that "Cat named Hercules", Sir Elton John, in my current alphabetical CD trek, and just finished listening to his masterpiece Goodbye Yellow Brick Road for like the eleventy-thousandth time in the last 33.5 years, and it remains my favorite album of all-time on earth in this hemisphere and has been virtually since the day it came out in October, 1973. It’s a little bit funny (pun intended) that Elton actually thought he had a piece of crap on his hands when he left the studio after recording it, but he needn’t have worried—GYBR is just an awesome record from start-to-finish that I will never get tired of hearing.
What makes it all the more impressive is that Yellow Brick Road was a double-album which maintained its high quality throughout. For you youngsters out there who’ve grown up on new albums that routinely feature over an hour’s worth of music, most records that came out during the ‘70s averaged 35-40 minutes of music, and it was rare for an artist to release a double-LP set unless it was a live album or a concept record like The Who’s Tommy and Quadrophenia or Pink Floyd’s The Wall. And when someone did put out a non-live, non-concept double-LP of all-new material, you often wound up with a lot of sub-par filler stuff and "throw-away" tracks, like on The Beatles’ White Album, Jimi Hendrix’ Electric Ladyland and the Stones' Exile On Main Street, as well as Elton’s own 1976 release, Blue Moves. If you took those same double-albums and gleaned the best songs off them, you'd have really solid single LPs instead of the patchy collections of songs that we’ve come to know. This wasn’t the case on Goodbye Yellow Brick Road, however, where even the throw-aways (or "B-stuff") were top-notch!
What I really love about this album is that it has a little bit of everything that I like in music—some good headphone stuff ("Funeral For A Friend/Love Lies Bleeding"), some edgy guitar-driven Rock ‘N’ Roll ("Saturday Night’s Alright For Fighting", "All The Young Girls Love Alice"), a little drama ("The Ballad of Danny Bailey", "Candle In The Wind"), a little humor ("Dirty Little Girl", "Social Disease") and a little goofiness ("Your Sister Can’t Twist" (But She Can Rock ‘N’ Roll)"). Then you throw in Bernie Taupin’s outstanding lyrics, some first-class musicianship, a killer album jacket and cover, and you’ve got the greatest Rock ‘N’ Roll album ever made, in my opinion.
As for that first-class musicianship, I want to praise Elton’s longtime band, which I don’t think gets near enough credit for their body of work. Guitarist Davey Johnstone, bassist Dee Murray and drummer Nigel Olsson played on Elton’s records from 1971 to 1975 (with the addition of multi-tasking percussionist Ray Cooper in 1974), and they were an excellent musical unit during that time. Johnstone in particular is vastly underrated, and is one of my all-time favorite guitar players. I’ve often wondered what the hell Elton was thinking when he broke this band up in 1975 after "Philadelphia Freedom" (which ironically was the one and only time they were credited on record as "The Elton John Band"), and only Johnstone and Cooper remained when EJ brought a phalanx of other musicians aboard for Rock Of The Westies and beyond. It’s no accident that Elton’s resurgence in popularity in early ‘80s coincided with Murray and Olsson’s return to the fold, not mention how one of the greatest concerts I’ve ever seen featured this classic lineup (minus Cooper) when Elton and the boys played Starlight Theater in K.C. on June 6, 1982. Both Davey and Nigel still record and tour with Elton today, but sadly, Dee Murray died of skin cancer in 1992. I would also be remiss in not mentioning the late Gus Dudgeon, the producer of Yellow Brick Road, as well as most of Elton’s ‘70s output—ain’t no doubt this man knew his way around the ol’ control board.
And now, my personal track-by-track review of Goodbye Yellow Brick Road:
1) "Funeral For A Friend/Love Lies Bleeding"—Excellent lead-off hitter for both an album and a concert, as the song starts off mournfully and builds to a crescendo. Davey Johnstone really shines on this 11-minute opus too.
2) "Candle In The Wind"—This, boys and girls, is THE definitive version of this song. I never much cared for the live ’87 hit single version when Elton’s voice was shot to hell prior to his throat surgery, and the re-worked version for Princess Di’s funeral speaks for itself, but this is the way the song should be played, with the beautiful melodic guitar signature and dramatic backing vocals. Classic line from B. Taupin here, too: "from the young man in the 22nd row who sees you as something more than sexual—more than just our Marilyn Monroe."
3) "Bennie And The Jets"—Greatest fictitious Rock band this side of Josie & The Pussycats! I was a real sucker when I was 9-10 years old, thinking this track was actually recorded live in concert. This is always a high point in Elton’s live act too. A classic it is, says Master Yoda…
4) "Goodbye Yellow Brick Road"—I grew up on AM radio in the early/mid-‘70s, and this song was all over it in the fall of ’73, along with The Carpenters and Tony Orlando & Dawn (now Dusk?). I always wondered why Dorothy and Toto were never mentioned…
5) "This Song Has No Title"—This track would fall under the "throwaway" category, but it’s actually not a bad little tune at all. It wouldn’t surprise me if Elton digs this one out and plays it live in concert now and then, as he's been known to do with many of his "B-tunes", like "Ticking", "Teacher, I Need You" and "Where To Now, St. Peter?".
6) "Grey Seal"—I don’t have a clue what the lyrics mean—it’s called "Grey Seal", yet it’s all about a bird—but it’s a great track anyway. This was actually the second time Elton recorded this song. A much more tepid 1970 version appears on Elton’s box set, but this one rocks out with the best of E.J.’s stuff. Nice to hear it getting regular airplay on Classic Rock stations today.
7) "Jamaica Jerk-Off"—No, it’s not about that! For Masturbation 101 tunes, I refer you guys to The Who's "Pictures Of Lily" and you girls to Divinyls' "I Touch Myself". Bernie Taupin initially wanted to call this "The Jamaica Jerk" or "The Jamaica Twist"—as in a new dance move—but settled on "Jerk-Off" for whatever reason. It's a goofy little song, as Elton takes a stab at being Bob Marley for a day. Probably the weakest song on the album, but far from being totally wretched.
8) "I’ve Seen That Movie Too"—This song didn’t do much for me early on, but it’s really grown on me over the years, especially now that I get the gist of the lyrics as an adult in terms of all the head games one must play in relationships and friendships and such. Great guitar solo from Johnstone here too, augmented by the excellent orchestral arrangement by Del Newman that was also a trademark of many of Elton’s early songs, like "Levon" and "Your Song", et al.
9) "Sweet Painted Ladies"—Greatest Rock song ever about prostitutes this side of Kiss’ "Black Diamond" and "Big City Girls" by April Wine. Gotta love the line, "Opportunity awaits me like a rat in a drain…"
10) "The Ballad of Danny Bailey (1909-34)"—When I was about ten or so, I actually tried to look up young Mr. Bailey in the encyclopedia, not realizing until years later that D.B. was a fictional character created by Mr. Taupin. Very dramatic song, great vocals from Elton, and once again the orchestral accompaniment really colors in the song. One of my favorite tracks off GYBR.
11) "Dirty Little Girl"—I believe the term we use today for girls like this is "White Trash ho", but in the post-Imus era, we have to re-think it, I suppose. "Someone grab that bitch by the ears!" didn't even cause a stir in 1973, but if it came out today, they’d probably have Elton and Bernie up before the committee for not being P.C. enough. Very funny song, though...
12) "All The Young Girls Love Alice"—Far and away the greatest song in Rock history with the word "dykes" in it. Also my first musical introduction to homosexuality, although I didn’t know it at the time, nor did I care—I just thought it was a cool fucking song. Great guitar riff from Davey, too.
13) "Your Sister Can’t Twist (But She Can Rock ‘N’ Roll)"—This used to be my favorite song on the album in my younger days, plus it had the word "shit" in the lyrics (which always scored points with me when I was a kid), but it hasn’t aged well over time with me, for some reason. I still like it a lot, though, especially Elton’s Farfisa organ solo.
14) "Saturday Night’s Alright For Fighting"—Yes, it gets played to death on the radio now, but I’ll never tire of hearing it—one of my Top 10 songs of all-time. Don’t give me none of yer aggravation, either!
15) "Roy Rogers"—Yet another song reflecting Bernie Taupin’s fascination with the Old West. Not one of my big faves from the album, but not a bad song, either. Yippie-ki-yay!
16) "Social Disease"—Another tune that most likely wouldn’t have made the cut if this was a single LP, but it’s rather humorous, and it gave Johnstone a chance to do a little pickin’ on the banjo.
17) "Harmony"—If there’s one criticism I have of GYBR, it’s that it doesn’t have that definitive climactic closing track a la The Who’s "Won’t Get Fooled Again" or "Who Are You?". "Harmony" is a great song, but it seems out of place at the end of the album. "Saturday" or "Alice" or even "Danny Bailey" might have served as a better closer. Better to go out with a bang, not a whimper, I say. Come to think of it, on the 8-track version, "Saturday" was indeed the final track.
Predictably, Elton John has never even come close to topping Goodbye Yellow Brick Road. He’s put out some great stuff from time to time since then, but this was his Sgt. Pepper and Abbey Road all rolled into one. If I was only allowed to keep one CD from my entire collection for eternity, the choice would be a no-brainer. Just an incredibly awesome record…
Is it almost May already? Doesn't seem possible...
NOT AGAIN
Man, what a shame about St. Louis Cardinals pitcher Josh Hancock's untimely passing over the weekend. I didn't know all that much about him, really, but apparently he was well thought-of in the clubhouse, and his loss will be deeply felt by the team. And good gracious—what are the odds of something like this happening to the same franchise during the season within a five-year span? The Cards were already mourning the death of legendary announcer Jack Buck when they lost pitcher Darryl Kile in late June, 2002—eerily enough while also playing the Cubs—and now lightning strikes them again. Sad, very sad...
A REAL DO-IT-YOURSELFER...
On a happier baseball note, congrats to Colorado Rockies shortstop Troy Tulowitski for pulling off the 13th unassisted triple play in Major League history yesterday against the Braves in roughly the same amount of time it takes to type his last name! What's funny is a co-worker and I were just discussing that rare baseball phenomenon the other day. I remember seeing Oakland's Randy Velarde do it against the Yankees a few years back on a Fox-TV broadcast, and it happened so quickly that I didn't even realize what he'd just done. This is what sets baseball apart from all other sports—the little oddities and rare occurences that happen along the way.
WHAT'S WRNG WITH THIS PICTURE?
Behold the giveaway bobbleheads of Kansas City Royals pheenom third baseman Alex Gordn courtesy of the AAA Omaha Royals—a team Gordn has yet to play an inning for. Young master Al went straight from AA Wichita to the big-league club this year, but that ain't stopping the folks in Nebraska from giving these misspelled figurines away. I hear next week they're doing a tribute to NASCAR hero Jeff Gordn too, with singer Gordn Lightfoot doing the national anthem...
A BOOT TO THE HEAD…
…to the yokel who called in to 99.7 KY during the lunchtime all-request hour today asking to hear AC/DC’s "You Shook Me All Night Long"—as if KY hardly ever plays that song! I love AC/DC to death, but the whole idea behind the request hour is to get the radio station to play something different, and I’m just about sick of hearing that song (and "Highway To Hell" too) on the radio. I was far more impressed with a prior caller's creativitiy in requesting Steve Walsh's "Every Step of The Way"...
While I’m on the subject, why is it whenever someone calls to make a request, the DJs have to interrogate the caller with a litany of questions? "Where do you live?...Where do you work?...What are you doing today?...What’s your dog’s name?," et al. Jeez, Louise—I don’t need to hear the listener’s life story, just play the bloody song they asked for and shut up, already!
CLASSIC MISHEARD LYRIC #26
"Uptown Girl"—BILLY JOEL (1984) "She’s getting tired of her high-class toys/And all her presents from her uptown boys/She’s got a choice." I always thought that last line was "She’s got her toys", as in those toys. You know, her Genital Electric line of products! Yes, I know, I'm a filthy guy...
THEY'LL BE SORRY...
The New England Patriots traded for wide receiver Randy Moss yesterday. Just remember, you P-Men, when you marry the stripper, you get all her baggage too. As Fred Sanford used to say, "I give it two weeks..."
..."it's just the Wreck Of The Barbie Ferrari."
My little self-imposed alphabetical-by-artist sojourn through my CD collection that began in late January is now well into the H’s, and I’m up to my man John Hiatt, one of the dandiest songwriters you’ll ever hear. "Beyond soulful", as his one-time cohort Nick Lowe once deemed him, Hiatt is one of the most underrated people in the music biz. Let me put it this way: anyone with the balls to incorporate amoebas and porcupines into the same song ("Thing Called Love") and make it work is a better man than I am...
Big John’s first taste of success was way back in the nether year of 1974 when Three Dog Night had a minor hit with his composition "Sure As I’m Sittin’ Here". He bounced around for a while in the late ‘70s and early ‘80s trying to find his niche (with varying degrees of success) and began to hit his stride musically in the mid-to-late ‘80s, ironically while his personal life was falling apart. John’s long battle with alcoholism, coupled with his first wife’s suicide in 1985, might well have done him in, but he sobered up and emerged with the most creative period of his career, which lasted through the mid-’90s. Lowe co-produced John’s 1983 LP Riding With The King, and the two reconvened for 1987’s Bring The Family, which was a turning point for Hiatt in his career. That album featured the lineup that would later become the short-lived supergroup Little Village, with Lowe on bass, Ry Cooder on guitar and Jim Keltner, the greatest session drummer in Rock history this side of the legendary Hal Blaine.
John’s signature song "Thing Called Love" appeared on BTF, and was later successfully covered by Bonnie Raitt, royalties from which would subsequently "keep fresh tires on the tour bus," as Hiatt would quip onstage, as did the Jeff Healey Band’s version of "Angel Eyes". BTF also featured the nostalgic "Your Dad Did", plus another signature track, "Memphis In The Meantime." John’s next album, 1988’s Slow Turning was even better, with standout tracks like "Drive South" (also a hit for Country singer Kelly Willis), "Paper Thin", the title song, and "Tennessee Plates", all about two small-time crooks on the lam who break in to Graceland and steal one of Elvis’ Cadillacs ("…anyway he wouldn’t care—hell, he gave ‘em to his friends!").
I first came to know John Hiatt’s work via the self-titled 1992 Little Village album. I got that CD mostly to hear what Nick Lowe had to say, but it was Hiatt who handled most of the vocals therein, and his gentle good humor was evident to me right away. The following year, JH released his finest album of all, Perfectly Good Guitar, and I’ve been a convert ever since. I must have played that tape from start to finish at least four times during a lengthy 1994 road trip—it was that good. PGG came out during John’s really edgy period, which echoed some of the stuff you heard on the radio from alternative bands at the time, and the writing on it is top-notch, including songs like "Something Wild", "Loving A Hurricane", "Buffalo River Home", "Permanent Hurt", and the awesome title track where John sings, "Oh, it breaks my heart to see those stars smashing a perfectly good guitar..." Obviously he ain’t too keen on the likes of Pete Townshend or Paul Stanley!
It’s hard to describe John Hiatt’s music because he’s dabbled in so many different styles over the years—folky acoustic stuff, straight-ahead Rock, a little country twang, some calypso even (one song he did in 1982 even sounded kinda techno-pop!), but I guess you could say that he’s kind of a cross between Jim Croce and Jimmy Buffett, with a little Bruce Springsteen edge and Bob Seger growl mixed in. And like Croce, Hiatt excels at story songs and character portraits like "Tennessee Plates" (see above), as well as "Rock Back Billy", all about a struggling guitar player who "took a gig playing bass for Sonny & Cher/He took it on the chin, but never got it off his chest/He wouldn’t be caught dead wearin’ that vest!" Another song that almost takes you to the actual scene is "Icy Blue Heart", all about a lonely jilted woman looking for true love at a bar: "She came on to him like a slow-moving cold front/His beer was warmer than the look in her eyes…" John has a way with words that is incredibly descriptive, and perfectly-tinged with humor too.
Many of his songs are about real life in general, and John is outstanding at getting to the heart of the matter about emotions and such, yet does so in such a colorful way. A prime example is "Permanent Hurt", all about those inevitable times when you get burned by someone else: "What is that fallin’ out of your eye?/What is that rollin’ on down your shirt?/Thunder and lightning from the bloodshot skies—this time it’s gonna be a permanent hurt." Another poignant one is the Little Village track "Don’t Think About Her (While You’re Trying To Drive)", which features beautiful guitar work from Ry Cooder. "Buddy, you’ll be alright…" John reassures this poor guy who’s broken-up while pining for his ex-girlfriend who has moved on.
Then there are times when John goes a little loco, like on my favorite Hiatt tune of all, "The Wreck of the Barbie Ferrari", a humorous look at a beleaguered family man who’s been pushed to the edge and wants to end it all, but doesn’t have the guts. "Wreck" also features Cooder playing the sitar (credited as "Ravi Oli"), which enhances the overall trippiness of the song. Songs like 2002's "The Tiki Bar Is Open" and 1995's "Shredding The Document" also display John’s slightly-warped side.
This dude belongs in the Rock ‘N’ Roll Hall of Fame too, but I won’t bother going down that road again at this time…
My All-Time John Hiatt Top Five:
1) "The Wreck of The Barbie Ferrari" (1993)
2) "Tennessee Plates" (1988)
3) "Perfectly Good Guitar" (1993)
4) "Rock Back Billy" (1990)
5) "Permanent Hurt" (1993)
I quote him often on here, and for good reason—along with Robin Williams and the late Richard Pryor, George Carlin is probably the most influential stand-up comedian of my generation, and just one damn funny dude. George turns 70 today, if you can believe that. His observations about little everyday minutiae and the quirks of the English language are brilliant, and even though he's turned into a bit of a curmudgeon in recent years, he can still pack a punch with his humor—if you catch him on the right night, that is. I was lucky enough to have an older sister who bought Carlin's albums back in the '70s, so I was exposed to his work at a very early age (probably earlier than I should have been), and it didn't take me long to memorize most of his routines, which I would often recite verbatim to friends and classmates. I even had the temerity to do one of George's bits for a 7th grade Speech class! I hated having to memorize stuff on the fly, and the topic was "humorous interpretation", so since I knew his stuff inside and out anyway, I did his routine "Some Werds" from the Toledo Window Box album (not to be confused with the seven dirty ones bit!), which included lines like, "a bone is like a crumb...if you break a crumb in half you don't have two half-a-crumbs—you got two crumbs!" The teacher had this jaundiced look on her face at first when I announced I was doing a G. Carlin work, but I never uttered one objectionable curse word, and she actually gave me a B+ for my efforts! In fact, one of the funniest Carlin albums you'll ever hear is called Take-Offs & Put-Ons, which was recorded in 1965 before it was fashionable to use swear words in public. Just goes to show that the man was funny, whether he was "dirty" or not...
