I'm still in a writing slump (owing to a lack of free time as well as lack of inspiration), plus I'm taking an impromptu vacation to St. Louis this weekend, so I'll leave you with one more batch of visual funnies in the meantime...
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Friday, July 24, 2009
Another word or two from our sponsors...
I'm in a bit of a writing slump, plus I'm kinda busy anyway, so I'll take the easy way out again and post some more funnines to tide y'all over. Enjoy...
Monday, July 20, 2009
And that's the way it was...
WALTER CRONKITE, 1916-2009
We’re losing some mighty big names this year, and yet another icon has left the building, this time the penultimate newscaster of all-time, Walter Cronkite. It wasn’t unexpected, since Walter had been in ill-health for quite some time, and he passed away Friday at age 92. "Big Mouth" Cronkite (as A. Bunker called him) was ALL we ever watched in our house for evening news when I was a kid—hell, I didn’t know David Brinkley, John Chancellor and Frank Reynolds even existed until probably around the ’76 political conventions. The "Most Trusted Man In America" was the one we always turned to for the big news stories and events, and he was there for a huge chunk of American history during his tenure at CBS—the Kennedy and M.L. King assassinations, the moon shot (see below), Apollo 13, Watergate/Nixon’s resignation, the deaths of Elvis and John Lennon, and was even part of American history by literally changing the course of the Vietnam war with his commentary about it being un-winnable.
His delivery style was authoritative yet reassuring (oh, how I wish he’d still been broadcasting when 9/11 happened), and without a trace of all the smarm and hype-and-tease phoniness that pass for TV news now—the man actually gave us the freakin’ news. Of course, this was long before this current age of ratings-driven bilge (nightly Anna Nicole Smith/Michael Jackson post-death updates, "where’s Caylee/Natalee?", Bill O’Reilly, Keith Olbermann, et al) in which these jaded TMZ hacks are now considered credible "news journalists". All of which makes Cronkite’s passing even sadder to me, when you realize how long ago he retired, which even prompted the Jefferson Starship to pose the burning question, "Whatcha gonna do about Walter Cronkite?" in the infamous "Stairway To Cleveland". This is not to say it’s been all downhill since 1981—Tom Brokaw and the late Peter Jennings were splendid nightly news anchors in their own right for many years—but TV news has de-evolved into such a sleazy tabloid medium over the last 25 years or so, to the point where it’s practically unwatchable now. And that’s the way it is, regrettably…
Walter was also an extremely intelligent man—I think he would’ve made one helluva President if he ever chose to run. In fact, Independent candidate John Anderson actually contemplated tabbing Cronkite as his running mate in 1980. WC was also very well-rounded, and he could fluently discuss foreign policy, the space program, or the stock market just as easily as he could talk about football. One area he did need to brush up on a bit was Rock ‘N’ Roll, considering the following he uttered on October 21, 1977: "Three members of the Rock group Lin-yerd Skin-yerd were killed yesterday…" Walter’s is one celebrity voice I’m able to mimic fairly well, too, with my personal favorite bit being from a Public Service Announcement he did back in my radio days about how the thought of your kids doing drugs "ought ta scare ya to death!" A little trivia for you: Walter Cronkite’s first broadcasting gig was right here in Kansas City at KCMO radio in 1936, where he basically was the entire news and sports department. He also met his wife via that same gig. He may well also be St. Joseph, Missouri’s most famous citizen this side of Jesse James and Joseph Robidoux (whom the town was named after).
S’long, Uncle Walter—ya done good…
"REMEMBER WHEN WE DID THE MOON SHOT, AND PONY TREKKER LED THE WAY?"
Well, that ain’t quite the way things went down 40 years ago today, but you get the idea. I had just turned five when the "Eagle" landed on the moon, and I have very vague memories of that day, as my family was at my older brother’s Boy Scout camp near Osceola, Missouri when Neil Armstrong took his one small step for man. We didn’t get to see it happen live on TV, but I do remember everyone around the Scout camp just buzzing about it. It would’ve been interesting to experience that excitement if I’d been a few years older when I could’ve understood what a monumental feat this truly was. I also remember wondering why you couldn’t see the spacecraft orbiting the moon while looking through binoculars! More trivia to impress your friends with: Our boys at Tranquility Base even managed to discover a mineral there which was later named after Neal Armstrong, Buzz Aldrin and Michael Collins—Armalcolite—I even got that one right while watching "Jeopardy!" once…
LOOK THIS UP IN YOUR FUNK & WAGNALL…
The timing of this little nostalgia trip back to the Age of Aquarius is perfect, since I’m currently reading From Beautiful Downtown Burbank-A Critical History of Rowan & Martin’s Laugh-In, 1968-73 by Hal Erickson. When I was a kid, there was a major power struggle in our household over control of the living room TV on Monday nights, as my older sister Renee (a liberal) always wanted to watch "Laugh-In", while my conservative parents (particularly my father) were more partial to "Gunsmoke" and/or "The Lucy Show", so guess who usually won that battle. Me, I really didn’t care—I couldn’t wait for "Monday Night Football" to come on after all those network offerings. I was too young to get what was going on with "Laugh-In" anyway when it originally aired, and it wasn’t until the summer of 1984 that I re-discovered the show via late-night reruns on Chicago’s WGN and fell in love with it. "Laugh-In" was purely a late ‘60s/early ‘70s phenomenon, and couldn’t possibly be pulled off today, nor would you want to.
Some of the jokes and gags they did on the show were as old as the hills, yet were still so very funny, and the show introduced a slew of pop culture phrases into the American lexicon, like the Funk & Wagnall thing, "you bet your sweet bippy", "sock it to me", "flying fickle finger of fate" and "very interrrrresting", among many others, not to mention a slew of unforgettable characters like Arte Johnson’s Tyrone F. Horneigh (that’s pronounced horn-EYE) and Wolfgang the Nazi, Ruth Buzzi’s Gladys Ormphby and Lily Tomlin’s Edith Ann and Ernestine the phone operator. The show also made stars out of the likes of Goldie Hawn, JoAnne Worley, Alan Sues, Henry Gibson, Gary Owens, Judy Carne as well as Dan Rowan and Dick Martin themselves, who had flown under the radar as a nightclub act before "Laugh-In" became a hit. The pacing of the show was so rapid-fire that it required concentrated viewing to absorb the whole enchilada, which no doubt influenced that which followed it, like MTV and even "Family Guy" today. And contrary to popular belief, "Laugh-In" did not have a so-called "liberal agenda"—just like the "Family Guy" crew, Rowan & Martin & Co. were equal-opportunity bashers who thought nothing of lampooning the Kennedys or LBJ just as easily as Dickie Nixon. Hell, they even managed to get conservatives like John Wayne (and the Big Dick himself) to appear on the show. And if that ain't enough, where else could you have seen the late Dinah Shore sporting fetish gear? Not making this up, kids—watch the February 8, 1971 episode if you don't believe me!
There are only two DVD sets with original "Laugh-In" episodes on the market so far, each containing six episodes from various seasons of the show’s run (Dinah Shore's on Vol. 2, btw), and I wish to hell they’d get around to doing season-by-season DVD releases of this veritable time capsule of American pop culture, especially during this current wave of ‘60s nostalgia.
And get ready for the 40th anniversary of Woodstock next month, too…
MISSED IT BY THAT MUCH!
Regular readers to my blog know that I’m not much of a fan of golf on TV, but every once in a while, I’ll find myself interested in a televised golf tournament, and such was the case yesterday, as K.C.’s own Tom Watson came literally within 12 inches of winning the British Open at age 59, which would’ve been a record for advanced age in a PGA major tournament. No doubt, most folks were expecting to see another TW in contention for the title, but Tiger Woods didn’t even make the cut (which was a big story in and of itself) and sadly, this will instead go down as one of the bigger choke jobs in sports history. Watson only needed to make a four-foot put that even yours has sunk many times in those pressure-packed moments on the links at the Cool Crest mini-golf course—and he didn’t even have a moving windmill in his way like I did! Anyway, I found myself rooting for Watson all the same, even though he’s not the nicest person in the world when the TV cameras are off—he was rather surly and rude to our front desk people at my former workplace about ten years ago when he came to pick up some x-ray films on two different occasions. Watson did set a record, anyway, by jumping some 1,300 places in the current world golfer rankings back up to 105th place.
BOO IT LIKE BECKHAM!
And, no, they weren’t saying "Looooouuuu!" Was tickled to death to read how L.A. Galaxy fans have turned on their imported "hero" David Beckham upon his return to their team over the weekend. So nice of him to drop by, right in the middle of their season, and I loved the sign that one fan held up which read, "Go home, fraud!" He’s not really a fraud—no doubt he’s a world-class athlete, but the way Major League Soccer has prostituted itself around to land him just to sell tickets is a joke, and he hasn’t even come close to upgrading outdoor soccer’s stature or prominence the way Pele did in the ‘70s—it’s still a "niche" sport in America, and probably always will be. Not that I feel sorry for Becks or anything, but he’s actually better off playing in Europe where the caliber of play is so much better. Beckham playing in MLS is akin to Albert Pujols playing on some AA minor league club.
"WHEN ELECTRICITY CAME FROM ARKANSAS"—UPDATE
I was finally able to add the Black Oak Arkansas Raunch ‘N’ Roll Live re-issue double-CD set to my collection, and I’m quite pleased with it. The original album released on Atco Records in early 1973 only contained seven tracks (all quite "dandy", you might say) and this 2007 Rhino collection fleshes things out considerably, as it features both December, 1972 concerts from Portland and Seattle in their entirety from which the original LP was culled. The new CD is totally worth it just for Jim "Dandy" Mangrum’s meandering-but-lovable between-song raps alone, but it also makes me wonder why so many of these tracks didn’t make the cut on the original LP, especially "Fever In My Mind" and "Uncle Lijiah". We also get Tommy Aldridge’s maniacal drum solo during "Up" in its entirety, having been whittled down from eight minutes to five on the original album. Drum solos are normally an exercise in the interminable, but TA’s usually manage to hold one’s interest throughout. True, there are a few flubs and feedback and some of the vocals are lost in the mix here and there on some of the tracks they didn’t use in ’73, but there was enough good stuff here to make a double-live album if they wanted to. "Hot And Nasty", indeed!
GLOBAL WARMING? PHLBBBBBT!!!
I hope that’s how you spell a Bronx cheer, anyway! The weather in K.C. these past few days has been nothing short of phe-fucking-nominal! I’m talking highs in the upper ‘70s and lows in the ‘50s when it’s normally 95 and miserable this time of year. The rest of this week appears to be unseasonably cool as well. Tell me again how this Global Warming thing works…
CLASSIC MISHEARD LYRIC #117
"Owner Of A Lonely Heart"—YES (1984) "You’ve got to want to succeed." It always sounds to me like Jon Anderson sings "You’ve got to work to succeed," which also fits.
THE DATING GAME, REVISITED
Total silliness here, but wouldn’t the Barefoot Contessa an "Shoeless" Joe Jackson have made a lovely couple?
We’re losing some mighty big names this year, and yet another icon has left the building, this time the penultimate newscaster of all-time, Walter Cronkite. It wasn’t unexpected, since Walter had been in ill-health for quite some time, and he passed away Friday at age 92. "Big Mouth" Cronkite (as A. Bunker called him) was ALL we ever watched in our house for evening news when I was a kid—hell, I didn’t know David Brinkley, John Chancellor and Frank Reynolds even existed until probably around the ’76 political conventions. The "Most Trusted Man In America" was the one we always turned to for the big news stories and events, and he was there for a huge chunk of American history during his tenure at CBS—the Kennedy and M.L. King assassinations, the moon shot (see below), Apollo 13, Watergate/Nixon’s resignation, the deaths of Elvis and John Lennon, and was even part of American history by literally changing the course of the Vietnam war with his commentary about it being un-winnable.
His delivery style was authoritative yet reassuring (oh, how I wish he’d still been broadcasting when 9/11 happened), and without a trace of all the smarm and hype-and-tease phoniness that pass for TV news now—the man actually gave us the freakin’ news. Of course, this was long before this current age of ratings-driven bilge (nightly Anna Nicole Smith/Michael Jackson post-death updates, "where’s Caylee/Natalee?", Bill O’Reilly, Keith Olbermann, et al) in which these jaded TMZ hacks are now considered credible "news journalists". All of which makes Cronkite’s passing even sadder to me, when you realize how long ago he retired, which even prompted the Jefferson Starship to pose the burning question, "Whatcha gonna do about Walter Cronkite?" in the infamous "Stairway To Cleveland". This is not to say it’s been all downhill since 1981—Tom Brokaw and the late Peter Jennings were splendid nightly news anchors in their own right for many years—but TV news has de-evolved into such a sleazy tabloid medium over the last 25 years or so, to the point where it’s practically unwatchable now. And that’s the way it is, regrettably…
Walter was also an extremely intelligent man—I think he would’ve made one helluva President if he ever chose to run. In fact, Independent candidate John Anderson actually contemplated tabbing Cronkite as his running mate in 1980. WC was also very well-rounded, and he could fluently discuss foreign policy, the space program, or the stock market just as easily as he could talk about football. One area he did need to brush up on a bit was Rock ‘N’ Roll, considering the following he uttered on October 21, 1977: "Three members of the Rock group Lin-yerd Skin-yerd were killed yesterday…" Walter’s is one celebrity voice I’m able to mimic fairly well, too, with my personal favorite bit being from a Public Service Announcement he did back in my radio days about how the thought of your kids doing drugs "ought ta scare ya to death!" A little trivia for you: Walter Cronkite’s first broadcasting gig was right here in Kansas City at KCMO radio in 1936, where he basically was the entire news and sports department. He also met his wife via that same gig. He may well also be St. Joseph, Missouri’s most famous citizen this side of Jesse James and Joseph Robidoux (whom the town was named after).
S’long, Uncle Walter—ya done good…
"REMEMBER WHEN WE DID THE MOON SHOT, AND PONY TREKKER LED THE WAY?"
Well, that ain’t quite the way things went down 40 years ago today, but you get the idea. I had just turned five when the "Eagle" landed on the moon, and I have very vague memories of that day, as my family was at my older brother’s Boy Scout camp near Osceola, Missouri when Neil Armstrong took his one small step for man. We didn’t get to see it happen live on TV, but I do remember everyone around the Scout camp just buzzing about it. It would’ve been interesting to experience that excitement if I’d been a few years older when I could’ve understood what a monumental feat this truly was. I also remember wondering why you couldn’t see the spacecraft orbiting the moon while looking through binoculars! More trivia to impress your friends with: Our boys at Tranquility Base even managed to discover a mineral there which was later named after Neal Armstrong, Buzz Aldrin and Michael Collins—Armalcolite—I even got that one right while watching "Jeopardy!" once…
LOOK THIS UP IN YOUR FUNK & WAGNALL…
The timing of this little nostalgia trip back to the Age of Aquarius is perfect, since I’m currently reading From Beautiful Downtown Burbank-A Critical History of Rowan & Martin’s Laugh-In, 1968-73 by Hal Erickson. When I was a kid, there was a major power struggle in our household over control of the living room TV on Monday nights, as my older sister Renee (a liberal) always wanted to watch "Laugh-In", while my conservative parents (particularly my father) were more partial to "Gunsmoke" and/or "The Lucy Show", so guess who usually won that battle. Me, I really didn’t care—I couldn’t wait for "Monday Night Football" to come on after all those network offerings. I was too young to get what was going on with "Laugh-In" anyway when it originally aired, and it wasn’t until the summer of 1984 that I re-discovered the show via late-night reruns on Chicago’s WGN and fell in love with it. "Laugh-In" was purely a late ‘60s/early ‘70s phenomenon, and couldn’t possibly be pulled off today, nor would you want to.
Some of the jokes and gags they did on the show were as old as the hills, yet were still so very funny, and the show introduced a slew of pop culture phrases into the American lexicon, like the Funk & Wagnall thing, "you bet your sweet bippy", "sock it to me", "flying fickle finger of fate" and "very interrrrresting", among many others, not to mention a slew of unforgettable characters like Arte Johnson’s Tyrone F. Horneigh (that’s pronounced horn-EYE) and Wolfgang the Nazi, Ruth Buzzi’s Gladys Ormphby and Lily Tomlin’s Edith Ann and Ernestine the phone operator. The show also made stars out of the likes of Goldie Hawn, JoAnne Worley, Alan Sues, Henry Gibson, Gary Owens, Judy Carne as well as Dan Rowan and Dick Martin themselves, who had flown under the radar as a nightclub act before "Laugh-In" became a hit. The pacing of the show was so rapid-fire that it required concentrated viewing to absorb the whole enchilada, which no doubt influenced that which followed it, like MTV and even "Family Guy" today. And contrary to popular belief, "Laugh-In" did not have a so-called "liberal agenda"—just like the "Family Guy" crew, Rowan & Martin & Co. were equal-opportunity bashers who thought nothing of lampooning the Kennedys or LBJ just as easily as Dickie Nixon. Hell, they even managed to get conservatives like John Wayne (and the Big Dick himself) to appear on the show. And if that ain't enough, where else could you have seen the late Dinah Shore sporting fetish gear? Not making this up, kids—watch the February 8, 1971 episode if you don't believe me!
There are only two DVD sets with original "Laugh-In" episodes on the market so far, each containing six episodes from various seasons of the show’s run (Dinah Shore's on Vol. 2, btw), and I wish to hell they’d get around to doing season-by-season DVD releases of this veritable time capsule of American pop culture, especially during this current wave of ‘60s nostalgia.
And get ready for the 40th anniversary of Woodstock next month, too…
MISSED IT BY THAT MUCH!
Regular readers to my blog know that I’m not much of a fan of golf on TV, but every once in a while, I’ll find myself interested in a televised golf tournament, and such was the case yesterday, as K.C.’s own Tom Watson came literally within 12 inches of winning the British Open at age 59, which would’ve been a record for advanced age in a PGA major tournament. No doubt, most folks were expecting to see another TW in contention for the title, but Tiger Woods didn’t even make the cut (which was a big story in and of itself) and sadly, this will instead go down as one of the bigger choke jobs in sports history. Watson only needed to make a four-foot put that even yours has sunk many times in those pressure-packed moments on the links at the Cool Crest mini-golf course—and he didn’t even have a moving windmill in his way like I did! Anyway, I found myself rooting for Watson all the same, even though he’s not the nicest person in the world when the TV cameras are off—he was rather surly and rude to our front desk people at my former workplace about ten years ago when he came to pick up some x-ray films on two different occasions. Watson did set a record, anyway, by jumping some 1,300 places in the current world golfer rankings back up to 105th place.
BOO IT LIKE BECKHAM!
And, no, they weren’t saying "Looooouuuu!" Was tickled to death to read how L.A. Galaxy fans have turned on their imported "hero" David Beckham upon his return to their team over the weekend. So nice of him to drop by, right in the middle of their season, and I loved the sign that one fan held up which read, "Go home, fraud!" He’s not really a fraud—no doubt he’s a world-class athlete, but the way Major League Soccer has prostituted itself around to land him just to sell tickets is a joke, and he hasn’t even come close to upgrading outdoor soccer’s stature or prominence the way Pele did in the ‘70s—it’s still a "niche" sport in America, and probably always will be. Not that I feel sorry for Becks or anything, but he’s actually better off playing in Europe where the caliber of play is so much better. Beckham playing in MLS is akin to Albert Pujols playing on some AA minor league club.
"WHEN ELECTRICITY CAME FROM ARKANSAS"—UPDATE
I was finally able to add the Black Oak Arkansas Raunch ‘N’ Roll Live re-issue double-CD set to my collection, and I’m quite pleased with it. The original album released on Atco Records in early 1973 only contained seven tracks (all quite "dandy", you might say) and this 2007 Rhino collection fleshes things out considerably, as it features both December, 1972 concerts from Portland and Seattle in their entirety from which the original LP was culled. The new CD is totally worth it just for Jim "Dandy" Mangrum’s meandering-but-lovable between-song raps alone, but it also makes me wonder why so many of these tracks didn’t make the cut on the original LP, especially "Fever In My Mind" and "Uncle Lijiah". We also get Tommy Aldridge’s maniacal drum solo during "Up" in its entirety, having been whittled down from eight minutes to five on the original album. Drum solos are normally an exercise in the interminable, but TA’s usually manage to hold one’s interest throughout. True, there are a few flubs and feedback and some of the vocals are lost in the mix here and there on some of the tracks they didn’t use in ’73, but there was enough good stuff here to make a double-live album if they wanted to. "Hot And Nasty", indeed!
GLOBAL WARMING? PHLBBBBBT!!!
I hope that’s how you spell a Bronx cheer, anyway! The weather in K.C. these past few days has been nothing short of phe-fucking-nominal! I’m talking highs in the upper ‘70s and lows in the ‘50s when it’s normally 95 and miserable this time of year. The rest of this week appears to be unseasonably cool as well. Tell me again how this Global Warming thing works…
CLASSIC MISHEARD LYRIC #117
"Owner Of A Lonely Heart"—YES (1984) "You’ve got to want to succeed." It always sounds to me like Jon Anderson sings "You’ve got to work to succeed," which also fits.
THE DATING GAME, REVISITED
Total silliness here, but wouldn’t the Barefoot Contessa an "Shoeless" Joe Jackson have made a lovely couple?
Saturday, July 18, 2009
And now a word from our sponsors...
Been busy up to my eyeballs this weekend and haven't had much time to write anything noteworthy, so I'm going to take the easy way out with some funnies. Will eventually have some Walter Cronkite commentary for you, among others. Special thanks to Margaret for sending me the following...
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Concert #107
"I’ve tried everything in my life/The things I like, I try ‘em twice…"—R. Van Zant, Lynyrd Skynyrd
It was déjà vu all over again (sort of) on Saturday night, as a year and one day after seeing K.C. favorites Shooting Star in concert at Kearney Amphitheater, I went and saw them again, and experienced a very similar result and another solid concert. Tickets for last year’s show with opening act Head East (or what’s left of them) went for only five bucks, and since that show went over so well, SS was invited to headline again this year, and still attracted a decent crowd (albeit about 2/3 of the size of last year’s throng—I’d say about 1,800 people this time), in spite of the ticket price being doubled. It was nice, though, giving everyone plenty of room to spread out and enjoy themselves. Even better, there were multiple beer lines this year, unlike last year during the venue’s shakedown cruise when the single line was like fifty people deep.
Another improvement over last year was the opening act, Change of Heart, a local Heart tribute band who were a major upgrade over the real Head East, and were quite good. Just like the real McCoy, COH is fronted by two sisters (Barbara and Lisa Bowman—"Ann" and "Nancy", respectively), who were close enough facsimiles to their counterparts to pass. Barbara was especially cute, bearing a slight resemblance to the woman I currently work for, and passed herself off nicely with Ann Wilson’s 1983 torso and 1977 hairstyle—i.e. before the real Ann’s body and hair started really expanding. COH’s second guitar player also kinda sorta looked like former Heart guitarist/keyboardist Howard Leese, but the rest of the band didn’t resemble anyone else from the original group, past or present, but they sounded great. About the only other difference is that Faux Nancy shared more of the lead vocals with Faux Ann, even on songs that the real AW normally sings on like 1985’s "Never", while Faux Ann also occasionally doubled on keyboards. They played a nice mix of Heart’s ‘70s and ‘80s biggies, as well as "All I Want To Do Is Make Love To You" from 1990’s Brigade, which was the last really good album Heart ever made. "Crazy On You", "Kick It Out" and the set-closing "Barracuda" were highlights. I was hoping to hear my all-time Heart favorite, 1985’s "If Looks Could Kill", and we may well have missed it by arriving about ten minutes into the show as they were doing "Who Will You Run To?". Oh well.
Ironically, it’s been 30 years since the one and only time I saw the real Heart live in concert—June 17, 1979 at Arrowhead Stadium, second on the bill with Ted Nugent, The Cars, Sammy Hagar and Missouri. They’re due to play here in town again soon with Journey, but considering today’s outrageous concert ticket prices, I think we got more bang for our buck with Change Of Heart and had just as good a time.
Shooting Star hit the stage just before dark, opening with some newer material that lead up to the old favorites, unlike last year when they reeled off about half-a-dozen of their classics right out of the chute. Same lineup as last year, featuring original guitarist/founder Van McLain and drummer Jeff Thomas, along with lead singer Ronnie Platt, multi-tasking keyboardist Dennis Laffoon (who does The Doors’ Ray Manzarek proud by also doubling on the bass organ) and redheaded violinist Janet Jameson. Apart from E.L.O. and Charlie Daniels Band, Shooting Star is one of the few Rock bands I know of that employs a fiddle player, and certainly the only one I know of with a chick fiddle player, and she’s darn good in place of original violinist Charles Waltz. As was the case last year, "Bring It On", "Last Chance", "Tonight" and "Hang On For Your Life" were the real crowd-pleasers, with the latter bringing everyone to their feet just like a year ago. I wouldn’t mind if they made this an annual event—not a bad show at all for ten bucks. Hell, you can’t even park your freakin’ car for ten bucks at most other concerts.
It was déjà vu all over again (sort of) on Saturday night, as a year and one day after seeing K.C. favorites Shooting Star in concert at Kearney Amphitheater, I went and saw them again, and experienced a very similar result and another solid concert. Tickets for last year’s show with opening act Head East (or what’s left of them) went for only five bucks, and since that show went over so well, SS was invited to headline again this year, and still attracted a decent crowd (albeit about 2/3 of the size of last year’s throng—I’d say about 1,800 people this time), in spite of the ticket price being doubled. It was nice, though, giving everyone plenty of room to spread out and enjoy themselves. Even better, there were multiple beer lines this year, unlike last year during the venue’s shakedown cruise when the single line was like fifty people deep.
Another improvement over last year was the opening act, Change of Heart, a local Heart tribute band who were a major upgrade over the real Head East, and were quite good. Just like the real McCoy, COH is fronted by two sisters (Barbara and Lisa Bowman—"Ann" and "Nancy", respectively), who were close enough facsimiles to their counterparts to pass. Barbara was especially cute, bearing a slight resemblance to the woman I currently work for, and passed herself off nicely with Ann Wilson’s 1983 torso and 1977 hairstyle—i.e. before the real Ann’s body and hair started really expanding. COH’s second guitar player also kinda sorta looked like former Heart guitarist/keyboardist Howard Leese, but the rest of the band didn’t resemble anyone else from the original group, past or present, but they sounded great. About the only other difference is that Faux Nancy shared more of the lead vocals with Faux Ann, even on songs that the real AW normally sings on like 1985’s "Never", while Faux Ann also occasionally doubled on keyboards. They played a nice mix of Heart’s ‘70s and ‘80s biggies, as well as "All I Want To Do Is Make Love To You" from 1990’s Brigade, which was the last really good album Heart ever made. "Crazy On You", "Kick It Out" and the set-closing "Barracuda" were highlights. I was hoping to hear my all-time Heart favorite, 1985’s "If Looks Could Kill", and we may well have missed it by arriving about ten minutes into the show as they were doing "Who Will You Run To?". Oh well.Ironically, it’s been 30 years since the one and only time I saw the real Heart live in concert—June 17, 1979 at Arrowhead Stadium, second on the bill with Ted Nugent, The Cars, Sammy Hagar and Missouri. They’re due to play here in town again soon with Journey, but considering today’s outrageous concert ticket prices, I think we got more bang for our buck with Change Of Heart and had just as good a time.
Shooting Star hit the stage just before dark, opening with some newer material that lead up to the old favorites, unlike last year when they reeled off about half-a-dozen of their classics right out of the chute. Same lineup as last year, featuring original guitarist/founder Van McLain and drummer Jeff Thomas, along with lead singer Ronnie Platt, multi-tasking keyboardist Dennis Laffoon (who does The Doors’ Ray Manzarek proud by also doubling on the bass organ) and redheaded violinist Janet Jameson. Apart from E.L.O. and Charlie Daniels Band, Shooting Star is one of the few Rock bands I know of that employs a fiddle player, and certainly the only one I know of with a chick fiddle player, and she’s darn good in place of original violinist Charles Waltz. As was the case last year, "Bring It On", "Last Chance", "Tonight" and "Hang On For Your Life" were the real crowd-pleasers, with the latter bringing everyone to their feet just like a year ago. I wouldn’t mind if they made this an annual event—not a bad show at all for ten bucks. Hell, you can’t even park your freakin’ car for ten bucks at most other concerts.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Rants! Get yer rants here!
I’m in an especially ranty mood today, so it’s time to take the garbage out…
OCHO STINKO IS ALL A-TWITTER
And what a twit he is, too! Seems that Cincinnati Bengals wideout Chad Johnson/Ochocinco claims that he plans to do some Twitter-ing during the games he’s playing in this upcoming season. Yeah, Chad, way to focus on the task at hand and concentrate on winning a football game, huh? Is it any wonder the Bungholes are such a dysfunctional lot with jokers like this fool who constantly undermines the concept of team? Shannon Sharpe had a big mouth, too, back in the day, but at least he backed it up with solid play, while Chad is just a total Chad, and only shows flashes of brilliance here and there. Cincy already let their best receiver, T.J. Houshmandzadeh, get away to Seattle in the off-season, and it’s obvious that Ocho Stinko only cares about showboating. Why does Cincinnati put up with this clown? Wide receivers are a dime a dozen anyway—kick this bozo to the curb already, and get someone who cares about winning!
SECOND VERSE, SAME AS THE FIRST
In a similar vein, why do the L.A. Dodgers put up with Manny Ramirez? They were doing just fine without him while he served his suspension, and since his return, he’s been more or less on cruise control, getting his five innings and three at-bats in every night before wanting out of the game. Last night vs. the Mets, he seemed to have gotten ejected from the game on purpose in the 5th inning and didn’t even contest the ejection. This arrogant jagoff is Exhibit A on what’s wrong with pro sports today. When properly motivated, Ramirez can be one of the best players in the game, but it’s a rarity that he even gives a shit anymore. Just retire, baby!
HALF-WITT’S HOLIDAY?
I remember an old "SCTV" skit where Andrea Martin poked fun at "Three’s Company" actress Joyce DeWitt’s early ‘80s L’eggs pantyhose TV commercials, with AM posing as "Joyce De-Half-Witt", modeling L’eggs Knee-Hi’s instead. Well, the real Joyce certainly lived up to that name on the 4th, getting busted for DWI after running through a barricade—in El Segundo, of all places! Hell, even I avoided El Segundo at all costs when I was in La-La Land last summer. Why is it drunk celebrities can’t seem to get a ride when they get totally ripped? Surely, these people can afford a cab ride, even has-been actresses like DeWitt, whom I always found to be far more attractive than her co-star Suzanne Somers back in the day. Until I saw this photo, that is. Even in recent years it appeared that JD still took care of herself and wasn’t hard on the eyes, but this latest embarrassing drunken celebrity mug shot shoots that theory all to hell. Sad, sad, sad…
WHEN THE LITTLE HEAD DOES THE THINKING…
At the risk of sounding like Dr. Phil, I would love to pose this question to the late Steve McNair in regards to this 20-year-old chick he was involved with: What the hell were you thinkin’?!? Just judging by her photo, methinks he could’ve done a lot better than her—she ain’t exactly a hottie. I’ve never seen McNair’s wife, but I can’t believe he cheated on her in favor of this skank, especially when you consider that Mrs. McNair is a nurse, and she helped him rehab a lot of his nagging injuries and kept him on the playing field and prolonged his career—so much for undying gratitude. As for the skank, it sounds to me like she had her eyes on his fame and fortune and when he threatened to end their little fling, she whacked him, then herself—can you say "Golddigger"?
JUST GO AWAY, AL
Why is it every time a high-profile Black celebrity dies, they always trot out Al Sharpton and/or Jesse Jackson to deliver eulogies? And yes, I know Jesse’s a family friend of the Jackson clan, but these boobs have no relevance anymore, even in the Black community, yet there was Sharpton yammering away at Michael Jackson’s memorial service yesterday. And why in blue blazes does he feel the need to constantly yell during his speeches? I realize the whole Southern Baptist preacher shtick involves being forceful and frenetic, but this is a somber occasion! You can just as easily get your point across in lower tones. Jive turkey…
THE KING IS DEAD—ALREADY
No, not referring to Michael Jackson, but rather LeBron James, who had video confiscated of Xavier U's Jordan Crawford having the personal effrontery to outplay LeBron and deliver a slam dunk over "King James" in a pick-up game Monday at the LeBron James Skills Academy in Akron. Up until that point in the proceedings, it was perfectly okey-dokey for the two cameramen on hand to shoot the event until the Nike Getstapo commandeered the tapes so their poster boy won't be scarred for life by repeated playings of the dunk on YouTube and ESPN, et al. I used to like LeBron up until now, but between this and the non-handshake thing during the playoff series with Orlando last month, he's revealed his true colors as Kobe, Jr.—just another arrogant and petty douche athlete. And then there were Dan Leb-Retard and J.A. Adande on ESPN defending James and Nike, acting as the true corporate shills they are, since ESPN and Nike are basically joined at the hip. You know what I say? Screw Nike and their overpriced ugly-ass shoes! Take your stupid swoosh and shove it...
There! I feel much better now...
OCHO STINKO IS ALL A-TWITTER
And what a twit he is, too! Seems that Cincinnati Bengals wideout Chad Johnson/Ochocinco claims that he plans to do some Twitter-ing during the games he’s playing in this upcoming season. Yeah, Chad, way to focus on the task at hand and concentrate on winning a football game, huh? Is it any wonder the Bungholes are such a dysfunctional lot with jokers like this fool who constantly undermines the concept of team? Shannon Sharpe had a big mouth, too, back in the day, but at least he backed it up with solid play, while Chad is just a total Chad, and only shows flashes of brilliance here and there. Cincy already let their best receiver, T.J. Houshmandzadeh, get away to Seattle in the off-season, and it’s obvious that Ocho Stinko only cares about showboating. Why does Cincinnati put up with this clown? Wide receivers are a dime a dozen anyway—kick this bozo to the curb already, and get someone who cares about winning!
SECOND VERSE, SAME AS THE FIRST
In a similar vein, why do the L.A. Dodgers put up with Manny Ramirez? They were doing just fine without him while he served his suspension, and since his return, he’s been more or less on cruise control, getting his five innings and three at-bats in every night before wanting out of the game. Last night vs. the Mets, he seemed to have gotten ejected from the game on purpose in the 5th inning and didn’t even contest the ejection. This arrogant jagoff is Exhibit A on what’s wrong with pro sports today. When properly motivated, Ramirez can be one of the best players in the game, but it’s a rarity that he even gives a shit anymore. Just retire, baby!
HALF-WITT’S HOLIDAY?
I remember an old "SCTV" skit where Andrea Martin poked fun at "Three’s Company" actress Joyce DeWitt’s early ‘80s L’eggs pantyhose TV commercials, with AM posing as "Joyce De-Half-Witt", modeling L’eggs Knee-Hi’s instead. Well, the real Joyce certainly lived up to that name on the 4th, getting busted for DWI after running through a barricade—in El Segundo, of all places! Hell, even I avoided El Segundo at all costs when I was in La-La Land last summer. Why is it drunk celebrities can’t seem to get a ride when they get totally ripped? Surely, these people can afford a cab ride, even has-been actresses like DeWitt, whom I always found to be far more attractive than her co-star Suzanne Somers back in the day. Until I saw this photo, that is. Even in recent years it appeared that JD still took care of herself and wasn’t hard on the eyes, but this latest embarrassing drunken celebrity mug shot shoots that theory all to hell. Sad, sad, sad…WHEN THE LITTLE HEAD DOES THE THINKING…
At the risk of sounding like Dr. Phil, I would love to pose this question to the late Steve McNair in regards to this 20-year-old chick he was involved with: What the hell were you thinkin’?!? Just judging by her photo, methinks he could’ve done a lot better than her—she ain’t exactly a hottie. I’ve never seen McNair’s wife, but I can’t believe he cheated on her in favor of this skank, especially when you consider that Mrs. McNair is a nurse, and she helped him rehab a lot of his nagging injuries and kept him on the playing field and prolonged his career—so much for undying gratitude. As for the skank, it sounds to me like she had her eyes on his fame and fortune and when he threatened to end their little fling, she whacked him, then herself—can you say "Golddigger"?
JUST GO AWAY, AL
Why is it every time a high-profile Black celebrity dies, they always trot out Al Sharpton and/or Jesse Jackson to deliver eulogies? And yes, I know Jesse’s a family friend of the Jackson clan, but these boobs have no relevance anymore, even in the Black community, yet there was Sharpton yammering away at Michael Jackson’s memorial service yesterday. And why in blue blazes does he feel the need to constantly yell during his speeches? I realize the whole Southern Baptist preacher shtick involves being forceful and frenetic, but this is a somber occasion! You can just as easily get your point across in lower tones. Jive turkey…
THE KING IS DEAD—ALREADY
No, not referring to Michael Jackson, but rather LeBron James, who had video confiscated of Xavier U's Jordan Crawford having the personal effrontery to outplay LeBron and deliver a slam dunk over "King James" in a pick-up game Monday at the LeBron James Skills Academy in Akron. Up until that point in the proceedings, it was perfectly okey-dokey for the two cameramen on hand to shoot the event until the Nike Getstapo commandeered the tapes so their poster boy won't be scarred for life by repeated playings of the dunk on YouTube and ESPN, et al. I used to like LeBron up until now, but between this and the non-handshake thing during the playoff series with Orlando last month, he's revealed his true colors as Kobe, Jr.—just another arrogant and petty douche athlete. And then there were Dan Leb-Retard and J.A. Adande on ESPN defending James and Nike, acting as the true corporate shills they are, since ESPN and Nike are basically joined at the hip. You know what I say? Screw Nike and their overpriced ugly-ass shoes! Take your stupid swoosh and shove it...
There! I feel much better now...
Monday, July 6, 2009
It's a blog, Mrs. Walker, it's a blog...
This definitely ain't a good time to be a celebrity, considering the current spate of deaths amongst famous people. Here are three more the Grim Creeper claimed this week.
KARL MALDEN, 1912-2009
“Streets Of San Francisco” is one of my all-time favorite TV Cop shows ("Hawaii Five-0" is right up there with it), and Karl Malden was a big reason why. He was terrific as the tough-but-fair Det. Mike Stone, opposite Michael Douglas as upstart Det. Steve Keller, or “Buddy Boy”, as Stone always referred to him. It’s amazing to think Malden was well into his 60s when they did that show, which required a fair amount of athleticism, and he obviously took great care of himself, considering he damn near lived to be 100. Until I was reminded of them last week in his obituary, I’d all but forgotten KM’s American Express travelers checks “What will you do?” TV ads, which were lampooned by the likes of Johnny Carson and others. Also easy to forget is Karl Malden’s film career prior to SOSF, during which he won a Best Supporting Actor Oscar for A Streetcar Named Desire and was nominated for Best Supporting Actor for On The Waterfront, co-starring with Marlon Brando. A fine actor and a good guy—he was even married to the same woman for 70 years. Rest in peace, Karl—ya done good.
DRAKE LEVIN, 1943-2009
“Drake who?” you say? He may well be the greatest Rock ‘N’ Roll guitarist that nobody knows, and “The Kid” provided all those careening riffs and killer solos for Paul Revere & The Raiders on pretty much everything they did up to and including “Hungry” in 1966. A very underrated guitarist in a very underrated band, Levin left PR&TR for a National Guard hitch to avoid the draft in ’66 and later formed The Brotherhood with fellow former Raiders Phil Volk and Mike Smith, releasing two albums for RCA. Drake had been battling cancer for several years and finally succumbed to it on Saturday. Seems semi-fitting, I guess, that a guy from such a patriotic band like the Raiders would pass away on the 4th of July. Rest in peace, Drake—ya done good, too.
STEVE McNAIR, 1973-2009
Unquestionably the most shocking passing this weekend was former Tennessee Titans QB Steve McNair, shot to death along with a female acquaintance who wasn’t his wife who may well have killed him and then turned the gun on herself. Even sadder, this one has turned in a soap opera rife with speculation about what actually went down. McNair’s wife claims to have no previous knowledge that he was seeing this woman, but evidently half of Nashville was aware of it. An ignominious end for a guy who I admired for his toughness, often playing hurt and in tremendous pain, which in turn no doubt inspired his teammates to play harder with him. Sad, very sad…
PALIN’S BAILIN’
Let’s hear it for Ms. Winky-Dink, Sarah Palin, for resigning as Gov. of Alaska with a year and a half to go in her term. She predictably spouted off a bunch of bugle oil about “it’s all good” and how she wants to help the Republican party “from the outside”, yadda x 3. Sounds more to me like A) she can’t hack doing the job, and B) she wants to write books and do talk shows and make money, etc. And don’t tell me this is so she can gear up for the 2012 Presidential campaign—that’s three freakin’ years from now! She’s wasting her time anyway if she does run—Sarah Palin is far too flighty to make a decent commander-in-chief, especially if she can’t even finish her current term. As trite as this may sound, a winner never quits, and a quitter never wins…
Again, for all you feminists out there: I’m all for having a female President of the U.S. someday, but geez, Louise, surely we can find someone better than Palin or Hillary Clinton.
EATING IS NOT A SPORT!
One of these days—and it won’t be long—one of these hot dog-eating fools is going to wind up dying on live TV during these silly competitive eating contests. 68 freakin’ hot dogs in one sitting? I don’t think I’ve consumed that many in the last five years! Nuckin’ futs…
LATHER, RINSE, RE: PETE
I just finished author Mark Wilkerson’s 600-page 2008 biography Who Are You on The Who’s Pete Townshend last week, and I’m a bit spent. The author was almost too thorough, especially with all the direct quotations he included from Townshend, which began to wear me out as a reader after a while. No doubt, Pete’s been very influential in my life via his songwriting, but I’m not sure why it didn’t dawn on me long before now what a really pompous ass he can be sometimes, not to mention a very contradictory and confounding individual at times. Why Roger Daltrey has put up with his crap for so long—apart from PT being his meal ticket all these years—is beyond me. The book mentioned the numerous times Townshend tried to get the infamous Lifehouse album off the ground (even in the last ten years or so), only to abandon the project because no one could understand the concept. I don’t think PT himself ever fully understood it himself, and I’m like “Dude, give it up, already!” I also found all the stuff about his worship of spiritual leader Meher Baba very hypocritical, considering how much Pete abused drugs and alcohol in the ‘70s and early ‘80s (and damn near died of an overdose in ’81)—something which Baba (the original “Don’t worry, be happy” guy) did not condone at all.
I used to think it would be really cool to meet Pete Townshend and engage in conversation with him about life and such, but now I’m not so sure. It seems Pete has this weird knack for being a very gracious and kind gentleman one minute, and a total arsehole the next—very Jekyll and Hyde-ish, you might say—toward his fans, the musicians he works with, record executives, the media, etc. None of this diminishes the incredibly intense music Pete’s given us throughout his career, but I view him in a different light now—not quite the idol I once thought of him as.
“HULLABALOO” AND TYLER TOO?
I took another trip on the Way-Back Machine over the weekend, and thoroughly enjoyed viewing NBC’s answer to “American Bandstand” in the mid-‘60s, “Hullabaloo”. I highly recommend renting or buying these DVDs, which are a nice time capsule of that era, music-wise, featuring many of the big names of the day, like Herman’s Hermits, The Kinks, The Animals, Petula Clark, Sonny & Cher, Paul Revere & The Raiders, Dusty Springfield, The Supremes and even the dreaded Freddie & The Dreamers. Unlike “Bandstand”, “Hullabaloo” had a different host each time, so one week you’d get Sammy Davis, Jr., another you’d get Trini Lopez and another you’d get Michael Landon (singing, no less!). All the Go-Go dancers hopping around on-stage while the groups performed were a total hoot, too. Good stuff, Maynard…
WELL, DO YOU REMEMBER RICK ASTLEY? HE HAD A BIG FAT IT—IT WAS GHASTLY…
On those “Hullabaloo” shows, they had a weekly segment from England featuring late Beatles manager Brian Epstein, who would discuss up-and-coming artists from across the big pond. While watching Epstein, I finally made the connection that one Rick Astley had to be his illegitimate son! Do they not look like father and son?!? Probably not true, though, since Epstein was a renowned homosexual. Then again, so is Astley, according to Brian Griffin on "Family Guy".
THE DOCTOR WAS IN!
A while back when I did my Top 20 Live Album countdown post, I made mention of the Rolling Stones’ Get Yer Ya-Ya’s Out as being considered one of the top live LPs ever, but the good Dr. Sardonicus pointed out that it wasn’t all that spectacular. Turns out the Doc. was right, as I now have it in my collection (having pirated it from the library), and I was fairly underwhelmed by what I heard. It wasn’t bad, mind you, but hardly scintillating. As great as the Stones are live in concert, it’s an odd contradiction that their live albums are so average (and sometimes less than average). Good call, Doc!
HMMM…
If He really does indeed exist, I kinda had Him pegged to be more of a Stryper fan myself…
KARL MALDEN, 1912-2009
“Streets Of San Francisco” is one of my all-time favorite TV Cop shows ("Hawaii Five-0" is right up there with it), and Karl Malden was a big reason why. He was terrific as the tough-but-fair Det. Mike Stone, opposite Michael Douglas as upstart Det. Steve Keller, or “Buddy Boy”, as Stone always referred to him. It’s amazing to think Malden was well into his 60s when they did that show, which required a fair amount of athleticism, and he obviously took great care of himself, considering he damn near lived to be 100. Until I was reminded of them last week in his obituary, I’d all but forgotten KM’s American Express travelers checks “What will you do?” TV ads, which were lampooned by the likes of Johnny Carson and others. Also easy to forget is Karl Malden’s film career prior to SOSF, during which he won a Best Supporting Actor Oscar for A Streetcar Named Desire and was nominated for Best Supporting Actor for On The Waterfront, co-starring with Marlon Brando. A fine actor and a good guy—he was even married to the same woman for 70 years. Rest in peace, Karl—ya done good.
DRAKE LEVIN, 1943-2009
“Drake who?” you say? He may well be the greatest Rock ‘N’ Roll guitarist that nobody knows, and “The Kid” provided all those careening riffs and killer solos for Paul Revere & The Raiders on pretty much everything they did up to and including “Hungry” in 1966. A very underrated guitarist in a very underrated band, Levin left PR&TR for a National Guard hitch to avoid the draft in ’66 and later formed The Brotherhood with fellow former Raiders Phil Volk and Mike Smith, releasing two albums for RCA. Drake had been battling cancer for several years and finally succumbed to it on Saturday. Seems semi-fitting, I guess, that a guy from such a patriotic band like the Raiders would pass away on the 4th of July. Rest in peace, Drake—ya done good, too.
STEVE McNAIR, 1973-2009
Unquestionably the most shocking passing this weekend was former Tennessee Titans QB Steve McNair, shot to death along with a female acquaintance who wasn’t his wife who may well have killed him and then turned the gun on herself. Even sadder, this one has turned in a soap opera rife with speculation about what actually went down. McNair’s wife claims to have no previous knowledge that he was seeing this woman, but evidently half of Nashville was aware of it. An ignominious end for a guy who I admired for his toughness, often playing hurt and in tremendous pain, which in turn no doubt inspired his teammates to play harder with him. Sad, very sad…
PALIN’S BAILIN’
Let’s hear it for Ms. Winky-Dink, Sarah Palin, for resigning as Gov. of Alaska with a year and a half to go in her term. She predictably spouted off a bunch of bugle oil about “it’s all good” and how she wants to help the Republican party “from the outside”, yadda x 3. Sounds more to me like A) she can’t hack doing the job, and B) she wants to write books and do talk shows and make money, etc. And don’t tell me this is so she can gear up for the 2012 Presidential campaign—that’s three freakin’ years from now! She’s wasting her time anyway if she does run—Sarah Palin is far too flighty to make a decent commander-in-chief, especially if she can’t even finish her current term. As trite as this may sound, a winner never quits, and a quitter never wins…
Again, for all you feminists out there: I’m all for having a female President of the U.S. someday, but geez, Louise, surely we can find someone better than Palin or Hillary Clinton.
EATING IS NOT A SPORT!
One of these days—and it won’t be long—one of these hot dog-eating fools is going to wind up dying on live TV during these silly competitive eating contests. 68 freakin’ hot dogs in one sitting? I don’t think I’ve consumed that many in the last five years! Nuckin’ futs…
LATHER, RINSE, RE: PETE
I just finished author Mark Wilkerson’s 600-page 2008 biography Who Are You on The Who’s Pete Townshend last week, and I’m a bit spent. The author was almost too thorough, especially with all the direct quotations he included from Townshend, which began to wear me out as a reader after a while. No doubt, Pete’s been very influential in my life via his songwriting, but I’m not sure why it didn’t dawn on me long before now what a really pompous ass he can be sometimes, not to mention a very contradictory and confounding individual at times. Why Roger Daltrey has put up with his crap for so long—apart from PT being his meal ticket all these years—is beyond me. The book mentioned the numerous times Townshend tried to get the infamous Lifehouse album off the ground (even in the last ten years or so), only to abandon the project because no one could understand the concept. I don’t think PT himself ever fully understood it himself, and I’m like “Dude, give it up, already!” I also found all the stuff about his worship of spiritual leader Meher Baba very hypocritical, considering how much Pete abused drugs and alcohol in the ‘70s and early ‘80s (and damn near died of an overdose in ’81)—something which Baba (the original “Don’t worry, be happy” guy) did not condone at all.
I used to think it would be really cool to meet Pete Townshend and engage in conversation with him about life and such, but now I’m not so sure. It seems Pete has this weird knack for being a very gracious and kind gentleman one minute, and a total arsehole the next—very Jekyll and Hyde-ish, you might say—toward his fans, the musicians he works with, record executives, the media, etc. None of this diminishes the incredibly intense music Pete’s given us throughout his career, but I view him in a different light now—not quite the idol I once thought of him as.
“HULLABALOO” AND TYLER TOO?
I took another trip on the Way-Back Machine over the weekend, and thoroughly enjoyed viewing NBC’s answer to “American Bandstand” in the mid-‘60s, “Hullabaloo”. I highly recommend renting or buying these DVDs, which are a nice time capsule of that era, music-wise, featuring many of the big names of the day, like Herman’s Hermits, The Kinks, The Animals, Petula Clark, Sonny & Cher, Paul Revere & The Raiders, Dusty Springfield, The Supremes and even the dreaded Freddie & The Dreamers. Unlike “Bandstand”, “Hullabaloo” had a different host each time, so one week you’d get Sammy Davis, Jr., another you’d get Trini Lopez and another you’d get Michael Landon (singing, no less!). All the Go-Go dancers hopping around on-stage while the groups performed were a total hoot, too. Good stuff, Maynard…
WELL, DO YOU REMEMBER RICK ASTLEY? HE HAD A BIG FAT IT—IT WAS GHASTLY…
On those “Hullabaloo” shows, they had a weekly segment from England featuring late Beatles manager Brian Epstein, who would discuss up-and-coming artists from across the big pond. While watching Epstein, I finally made the connection that one Rick Astley had to be his illegitimate son! Do they not look like father and son?!? Probably not true, though, since Epstein was a renowned homosexual. Then again, so is Astley, according to Brian Griffin on "Family Guy".
THE DOCTOR WAS IN!
A while back when I did my Top 20 Live Album countdown post, I made mention of the Rolling Stones’ Get Yer Ya-Ya’s Out as being considered one of the top live LPs ever, but the good Dr. Sardonicus pointed out that it wasn’t all that spectacular. Turns out the Doc. was right, as I now have it in my collection (having pirated it from the library), and I was fairly underwhelmed by what I heard. It wasn’t bad, mind you, but hardly scintillating. As great as the Stones are live in concert, it’s an odd contradiction that their live albums are so average (and sometimes less than average). Good call, Doc!
HMMM…
If He really does indeed exist, I kinda had Him pegged to be more of a Stryper fan myself…
Saturday, July 4, 2009
The Ox Man Cometh!
The late John Entwistle is one of my idols (witness my ersatz tribute pic), and I rave about his bass playing often on this blog—after all, “Thunderfingers” was the greatest Rock ‘N’ Roll bass player of all-time on this here planet, plus numerous others. But I ain’t here to talk about his bass playing, (which speaks—loudly—for itself), but rather his solo career and compositions with The Who, which are often sadly overlooked. Even though he was a fine composer, John Entwistle is rarely recognized for his songwriting abilities, mostly because he was in a band that already had a prolific songwriter, thus was constantly overshadowed by one Peter Dennis Blandford Townshend. I would even go as far to submit that “The Ox” had a much more consistent solo career than Townshend (with his overblown concept albums) or Roger Daltrey (who was very hit-and-miss) did. His witty and often hard-rocking songs usually served to lighten the mood on Who albums when PT got a little too intense and serious, and JE pretty much spared the final two Who studio albums he played on (Face Dances and It’s Hard) from being totally wretched, as Pete was hoarding his best tunes for his own solo records during that time.“Big Johnnie Twinkle” was the first member of The Who to release his own solo album, 1971’s Smash Your Head Against The Wall, and although its cover was ghoulish indeed, the record itself was critically well-received and featured John’s typical dark humor and his oft-underrated horn playing. Ironically, John’s solo albums hardly featured his bass playing, which was more subdued than on most Who releases. JE worked in his solo albums between Who records throughout the early ‘70s, following Smash Your Head with 1972’s Whistle Rymes (with guest appearances by one young Peter Frampton and the late Jimmy McCullough from Paul McCartney’s Wings on guitar), 1973’s Rigor Mortis Sets In and 1975’s Mad Dog. John took to the road with his band, John Entwistle’s Ox, in ‘75, opening for Humble Pie and making an appearance on radio’s “King Biscuit Flower Hour”, which is available on CD. Expectations were high for JE’s next solo album, 1981’s Too Late The Hero, recorded with the Eagles’ Joe Walsh on guitar and drummer Joe Vitale (no relation to Dick, thankfully!) but it turned out to be a disappointment both in terms of sales and quality, although it was still light years better than The Who’s 1981 release, Face Dances.
Subsequent solo projects were few and far between for John, including 1996’s The Rock and the Vanpires soundtrack in ‘98, which he followed with a solo tour that rendered the fine 1999 Left For Live recording and rendered him damn near broke. There was even talk of him putting together a heavy metal band in the mid-‘80s, but it never materialized. Sadly, John’s major vices (sex, drugs and booze) are what ultimately did him in—he spent money he didn’t have on things he didn’t need (shades of yours truly, sometimes), thus was always broke until The Who toured again. He also indulged way too much in alcohol and drugs, leaving him with a heart condition that he succumbed to at the Hard Rock in Las Vegas on June 27, 2002—the eve of The Who’s latest tour—with cocaine in his system. A disappointing (and frankly, rather pathetic) end for one of the finest musicians in Rock history. But, as Daltrey said upon John’s death, for better or worse, John lived the prototypical Rock Star life right up to the bitter end. Long live The Ox!
My All-Time John Entwistle Top 25
HONORABLE MENTIONS:
My Generation (1965) Okay, Big John didn’t write it, but he did give the world the first Rock ‘N’ Roll bass solo of all-time, and quite possibly, the greatest.
5:15 (Live—2000) Again, the man didn’t write the song, but The Ox’s bass solo from the December, 2000 Who performance at Royal Albert Hall was a three-and-a-half minute rollercoaster ride that will leave you totally dumbstruck (and possibly neutered) afterward!A Quick One (While He’s Away) (1966) The Ox was cast in the role of dirty ol’ Ivor the sooty engine driver in the famed mini-opera here, and he got to show off his falsetto voice during the climactic “You Are Forgiven” section of the song, which I originally thought was Roger Daltrey’s doing.
“Summertime Blues” (1970) Gots ta give JE credit for his basso-profundo vocals on this Eddie Cochran/Who classic. In 1998, John changed one of the lyrics to “I’d like to help ya son, but I’m too busy gettin’ a blow job!”
25) I’m Coming Back (1981) Track from Too Late The Hero that prominently featured Joe “How Ya DOIN’?” Walsh on guitar. Not a terribly funny song—by Entwistle standards, anyway—but it rocks all the same.
24) Drowning (1975) Not be confused with The Who’s “Drowned” from Quadrophenia, John waxed nostalgic on this cut from Mad Dog and did some major crooning! He sang in such a high register that he later joked, “I must have been wearing tight trousers when I sang this!” Backing vocals were provided by three ladies who sounded an awful lot like Benny Hill’s Ladybirds.
23) Too Late The Hero (1981) The title track from John’s ‘81 sojourn took a while to grow on me, but it’s not a bad song at all, where one pines for life to be just like the movies. Any Renee Zellweger, Lea Thompson or Kate Winslet flick would do me just fine…
22) What Are We Doing Here? (1971) All about life on the road: “And it’s only 25 days, 6 hours and 10 minutes, and this’ll all be 5,000 miles from here.” I believe this was conceived during The Who's 1968 North American tour in some misbegotten place like Edmonton, Alberta, freakin' Canada.
21) Thinkin’ It Over (1972) Even songs about suicide attempts can be humorous. Ironically, Elton John’s hilarious “I Think I’m Gonna Kill Myself” came out long about the same time as this one did.
20) It’s Your Turn (1982) Songs about aging Rock stars were usually P. Townshend’s domain, but The Ox took a shot at it on It’s Hard, invoking all them young whipper-snappers at the time to get in the ring: “It’s your turn to step up and take it—if you got the guts to hang on, you can make it…” This one also applies to the current sad state of Rock ‘N’ Roll: “You’re running out of ideas and new hats to try on…” Mr. Daltrey handled the vocals on this one.
19) Cousin Kevin (1969) Whereas Pete Townshend wrote the bulk of the songs for Tommy, he left it up to J. Entwistle to do the dirty work and write about the mean and uncouth characters in the story, and Cuz Kevin was indeed “the nastiest playfriend you ever could meet.” The ultra-high vocals proved too difficult to pull off in concert, though, so “Kevin” was often omitted from the Tommy section during 1969-70 at Who shows. Actor Paul Nicholas did a fine Cousin Kevin in the 1974 Tommy movie, and singer Billy Idol was even more convincing in the role during the 1989 all-star benefit Tommy concert.
18) Heaven And Hell (1971) Also recorded by The Who, and often a concert opener for them circa. 1970-71, JE's solo version is a little slower and a bit more atmospheric, thanks to John’s French horn. “Why can’t we have eternal life and never die?” Touché…
17) Whiskey Man (1966) Not to be confused with the Molly Hatchet song of the same name, this was John’s first recorded composition, all about an imaginary drinking partner. Love the line “Insanity is fun--if that’s the way it’s done…” It most certainly is, dear friends!
16) Talk Dirty (1981) One of the rare times on Entwistle’s solo albums that he let his mighty bass do the talking. Song has its moments, like “Van Dyke?—she’s queer!”
15) 905 (1978) A peek into the future from Who Are You, all about test tube babies and cryogenics and so forth. As John quipped on the Left For Live CD, “The great thing about the future is you never have to put your parents in an old folks home…Just put ‘em straight in the ‘fridge and you can visit them anytime you like!”
14) Fiddle About (1969) Only Entwistle could get away with writing a song about a pedophile. Good thing P. Townshend didn’t write it, when you consider the kiddie-porn charges he faced in 2003. The late Keith Moon was the penultimate Uncle Ernie, too.
13) Who Cares (1972) Love the attitude here: “Some people say they need their breakfast every morning—I’m satisfied with yawning, who cares?” Pretty much sums me up in the morning…
12) My Size (1971) The unofficial title track to Smash Your Head Against The Wall, and a song all about ill feelings toward a former loved-one. Nifty opening riff here too. John steals the closing riff from his own “Boris T. Spider” too.
11) I Feel Better (1972) Sequel to “My Size”, with even more intense hard feelings like “When I’m feeling blue, I stick a pin in a picture of you and I feel better…when I’m feeling sad, I remember that you were the worst lay I ever had, and I feel better…” Now, that’s a real kick in the crotch!
10) One At A Time (1982) As you might have noted by the last two entries, marital discord was a recurring theme in John’s songs, and this was one of the better cuts from It’s Hard, featuring John’s prowess in the brass section in the intro. “She’s been abusing her body again,” he intones. Sadly, JE did a bit of that to himself, as well.
9) Made In Japan (1973) One of John’s funniest ever, all about his shock and horror that everything he encounters comes from the Land of the Rising Sun—his suit, his car, even his bride! “There ain’t nothin’ made here in this country anymore—it’s either made in Japan, Hong Kong or Singapore…”
8) Success Story (1975) Another aging Rock star song, and easily the hardest-rocking cut from The Who By Numbers. “Take 276—you know this used to be fun…” Entwistle and Daltrey alternate on vocals here.
7) Boris The Spider (1966) Always a fan favorite and one of mine, too—poor Boris always winds up “imbedded in the ground” in the end. According to John, Boris was once married to Doris The Spider.
6) Pick Me Up (Big Chicken) (1971) All about a night out with the boys. This one pre-dates this current “competitive eating” crap by about 35 years: “Gather ‘round the bar, let’s have a race—wanna see how much beer I can pour into my face…”
5) You (1981) Entwistle’s contributions to Face Dances were the only songs that truly rocked out and this is one of the more underrated Who cuts ever, regardless of its composer. Sung by Roger Daltrey, it features a wicked bass line from Thunderfingers, which rendered Pete Townshend almost irrelevant throughout.
4) Had Enough (1978) Not to be confused with “I’ve Had Enough” from Quadrophenia, this was John’s declaration of independence and a basic “fuck you” to the world. Daltrey sounded great screaming the opening line, “IIIIIIIIIII”ve had enough of being nice/I’ve had enough of right and wrong…” The song ends with the line “Here comes the end of the world,“ so I made sure to play it just before Midnight on the night of Y2K, just in case it came true. The string arrangement during the middle eight was a nifty added touch here too. I totally endorse the line, “If you find something better, can’t you save my place?”
3) The Quiet One (1981) Anything but quiet, this could’ve been written about yours truly, as I often have to remind those who say I don’t talk much that “I ain’t quiet—everybody else is too loud!” TQO was one of the highlights of The Who’s rather flaccid 1982 “Farewell” tour, as well.
2) Trick Of The Light (1978) Roger Daltrey admitted that he didn’t much like to sing John’s songs, but JE was only limited to one vocal performance per Who album (if he was lucky), so RD handled this one, all about a poor schlub who needed a little reassurance in the carnal department, so he seeks “professional” help. Leave it to yours truly to quote an Entwistle song in bed with my girlfriend after doing the dirty deed for the first time, “So, was I alright? Did I take you to the height of ecstasy?” At least she answered in the affirmative, and all was right with the world…
1) My Wife (1971) Probably John’s most famous song, and certainly his most-performed one at Who shows. Originally released on Who’s Next, John took another shot at it on Rigor Mortis Sets In, but my personal faves are the Kids Are Alright and Left For Live versions, which are much edgier. Jokingly written about his first wife (and longtime sweetheart) Allison, the story actually came true later on.
So, was he indeed alright? I'd say yes...
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
It was 20 years ago today...
No, not Sgt. Pepper, but it was 20 years ago today that my truncated radio career came to an unceremonious end. At approximately 5:56 AM on June 30, 1989, I uttered my final words on the air at K-JO 105 in St. Joseph, MO, which were appropriately, “…and I am history.” Hard to believe it’s been 20 years already, but I can honestly say I really don’t miss radio that much. It was a mutual parting of the ways when I left K-JO; I knew I didn’t have a future there, and they were about to fire me anyway, so I took the two weeks’ severance pay they were offering and ran with it. I interviewed at a couple other radio stations after that, and was hopeful at one point of reuniting with some of the old gang from my first radio station, KKJC-AM in Blue Springs (the “Mighty 1030”) at the newly re-launched 107.3 FM that had moved from Lexington to Independence. Alas, I lost out on that gig to a black woman with precious little radio experience whom they were pretty much forced to hire to comply with the affirmative action thing. Never mind that this was a Country music station and she didn’t know Johnny Cash from James Brown! Granted, I wasn’t terribly familiar with Country music myself, but I think I coulda winged it. Oh well, it would've just prolonged the inevitable...
Radio is a bidness that I really had no bidness being in in the first place, as I really wasn't cut out to be a DJ anyway, but I had to fall on my face, so to speak, to come to that realization. I’m not quick on my feet, verbally, I had no ego to speak of, and was totally unprepared to move from job to job and town to town, given radio’s inherent instability. And this was 20 years ago—I can’t imagine being a freshman/sophomore DJ in today’s current unstable environment. The radio career was fun while it lasted, but I wish I’d realized then what I know now—I should’ve pursued a career in creative writing and/or journalism.
Regrets, I’ve had a few…
IT WAS (ALMOST) 30 YEARS AGO TODAY…
…the last time I saw a fireworks tent in Raytown, but they’re back again, thanks to them being re-legalized in Raytown. The ban first went into effect in 1980, but was so unenforceable that the city basically gave up and decided to allow non-airborne explosives to once again be sold and blown up with in the city limits, and nearby Independence recently did likewise. Might as well—you’re not going to prevent people from shooting off fireworks this time of year anyway. Just have to hope that no one’s house catches on fire…
THE POWER OF PRAYER?
The following letter appeared on the Op-Ed page of Sunday’s K.C. Star:
“I am a religious man, but not a fanatic. However, whenever Billy Mays, the pitchman, does commercials, I say a little prayer that he will lose his obnoxious voice. I do not scream my prayer; I just say it in a normal voice.”—Michael Douglas, Smithville, MO
Ask and ye shall receive, evidentl. They say timing is everything, and the above letter hit the newsstands right about the time of Billy Mays’ unexpected demise on Sunday. No disrespect intended towards the dead, here, but I can’t say as I’ll miss the guy. As I’ve stated before, hollering and screaming at me on TV is highly unlikely to motivate me to buy the product you’re endorsing.
HOW PROFOUND!
See if you can guess which celebrity uttered the following in 1986: “Life is one big female safari, and Dr. Ruth is my guide.” Keep reading, and I’ll divulge the answer below…
SIT ON IT, PONZI!
Was pleased to see this Bernie Madoff palooka get 150 years in prison for screwing all those people out of all that money, thus meaning he’ll be 221 when he gets out. I think they ought to put his wife’s ass in prison too—she had to at least have some knowledge about the skullduggery he was into. Oh well—buh-bye, Bernie!
CLASSIC OVERUSED MOVIE/TV CLICHÉ #21
I hate it when the cast of a TV show suddenly gets pressed into duty in some crisis situation performing tasks they don’t normally do, like working in a restaurant kitchen because the staff quits or goes on strike or something. “Frasier” and “Are You Being Served?” are two examples of shows that tried this lame gambit that is rarely funny, and always ends in disaster. The “Frasier” one was the worst of all, where Niles and Frasier actually thought they could RUN an upscale eatery. Yeah, right…
I MUST HAVE MISSED THE MEMO…
…so please tell me who these Jon & Kate people are, and why the fuck should I care that they’ve broken up? Yet another example of nobodies that this country makes famous for no palpable reason…
HOW PROFOUND?—THE ANSWER
That would be none other than my former idol, Ted Nugent, who claimed to be a disciple of Dr. Ruth when he appeared on her show back in the day—what a suck-up! I still can’t believe everyone bought into the pablum that little twit hack was dishing out back then. I’d sooner seek sexual advice from Bobby "The Brain" Heenan. As you’ve no doubt noticed, celebrity “Doctors” don’t rate highly with yours truly, as in Dr. Ruth, Dr. Phil, Dr. Laura, Dr. Joyce Brothers, et al. To me, they’re all just professional celebrities with very little substance.
I found that quote in the liner notes of Nugent’s 1986 Little Miss Dangerous CD, which I borrowed from the library recently. Ted, being his usual humble self, touted the album as “one of the sexiest, slinkiest, motherfuckingest grooves I’ve ever nuzzled out of my…guitar,” adding that “This is the audio high point of my career.” Uh-huh. The write-up also referred to the song “Little Miss Dangerous” as “Ted’s calling card on MTV and a Rock radio smash…” Riiiight. I do remember the “LMD” video getting a few spins on “Headbanger’s Ball” back in the day, but I sure don’t recall it getting any radio airplay at all, let alone the song being a “Rock radio smash”. Instead, I remember that album as just another in the string of mediocre ‘80s platters that Terrible Ted put out, which subsequently led him to put his ego away for a while and join Damn Yankees in ’89.
KING OF DE NILE?
Get a load of what the K.C. Star’s Jason Whitlock—a sports columnist, mind you—had to say about Michael Jackson:
“…I shed tears when the text messages from friends started rolling in about Jackson’s death…I just want to enjoy Michael Jackson’s music. I don’t want to know or debate whether he bleached his skin white. And you’ll never convince me Michael molested children. Never…You’ll never convince me because I’ll never take the time to research the evidence. I won’t even listen to people discuss it…I’m sorry, I know I sound childish, but it’s impossible for me to believe that a human being who inspired so much peace, love and harmony could be capable of the heinous act of molesting a child.”
First off, I find it hard to picture a self-promoting jackass like Jason Whitlock shedding tears. Second off, talk about putting your head in the sand and keeping it there. Regardless of whether you think MJ was guilty of improprieties, if you (Jason) want me to take you seriously as a columnist/journalist, you have be more open-minded than this! Hell, I find it hard to believe that a brilliant music producer like Phil Spector is capable of murder, but it sure appears he was. That’s life in the big city, unfortunately, and it‘s obvious JW is in denial in regards to Michael Jackson. MJ had a brilliant musical career, no question, but there can be NO denying that something was clearly wrong with the man in his private life. As for Whitlock, I agree totally with the person who posted on the Star’s website who said that Jason needs to cease writing about himself so much in his columns—he’s not nearly as “cool” as he thinks he is. Besides, that’s what blogs like this are for…
By the way, what’s any of this got to do with sports, anyway?
Radio is a bidness that I really had no bidness being in in the first place, as I really wasn't cut out to be a DJ anyway, but I had to fall on my face, so to speak, to come to that realization. I’m not quick on my feet, verbally, I had no ego to speak of, and was totally unprepared to move from job to job and town to town, given radio’s inherent instability. And this was 20 years ago—I can’t imagine being a freshman/sophomore DJ in today’s current unstable environment. The radio career was fun while it lasted, but I wish I’d realized then what I know now—I should’ve pursued a career in creative writing and/or journalism.
Regrets, I’ve had a few…
IT WAS (ALMOST) 30 YEARS AGO TODAY…
…the last time I saw a fireworks tent in Raytown, but they’re back again, thanks to them being re-legalized in Raytown. The ban first went into effect in 1980, but was so unenforceable that the city basically gave up and decided to allow non-airborne explosives to once again be sold and blown up with in the city limits, and nearby Independence recently did likewise. Might as well—you’re not going to prevent people from shooting off fireworks this time of year anyway. Just have to hope that no one’s house catches on fire…
THE POWER OF PRAYER?
The following letter appeared on the Op-Ed page of Sunday’s K.C. Star:
“I am a religious man, but not a fanatic. However, whenever Billy Mays, the pitchman, does commercials, I say a little prayer that he will lose his obnoxious voice. I do not scream my prayer; I just say it in a normal voice.”—Michael Douglas, Smithville, MO
Ask and ye shall receive, evidentl. They say timing is everything, and the above letter hit the newsstands right about the time of Billy Mays’ unexpected demise on Sunday. No disrespect intended towards the dead, here, but I can’t say as I’ll miss the guy. As I’ve stated before, hollering and screaming at me on TV is highly unlikely to motivate me to buy the product you’re endorsing.
HOW PROFOUND!
See if you can guess which celebrity uttered the following in 1986: “Life is one big female safari, and Dr. Ruth is my guide.” Keep reading, and I’ll divulge the answer below…
SIT ON IT, PONZI!
Was pleased to see this Bernie Madoff palooka get 150 years in prison for screwing all those people out of all that money, thus meaning he’ll be 221 when he gets out. I think they ought to put his wife’s ass in prison too—she had to at least have some knowledge about the skullduggery he was into. Oh well—buh-bye, Bernie!
CLASSIC OVERUSED MOVIE/TV CLICHÉ #21
I hate it when the cast of a TV show suddenly gets pressed into duty in some crisis situation performing tasks they don’t normally do, like working in a restaurant kitchen because the staff quits or goes on strike or something. “Frasier” and “Are You Being Served?” are two examples of shows that tried this lame gambit that is rarely funny, and always ends in disaster. The “Frasier” one was the worst of all, where Niles and Frasier actually thought they could RUN an upscale eatery. Yeah, right…
I MUST HAVE MISSED THE MEMO…
…so please tell me who these Jon & Kate people are, and why the fuck should I care that they’ve broken up? Yet another example of nobodies that this country makes famous for no palpable reason…
HOW PROFOUND?—THE ANSWER
That would be none other than my former idol, Ted Nugent, who claimed to be a disciple of Dr. Ruth when he appeared on her show back in the day—what a suck-up! I still can’t believe everyone bought into the pablum that little twit hack was dishing out back then. I’d sooner seek sexual advice from Bobby "The Brain" Heenan. As you’ve no doubt noticed, celebrity “Doctors” don’t rate highly with yours truly, as in Dr. Ruth, Dr. Phil, Dr. Laura, Dr. Joyce Brothers, et al. To me, they’re all just professional celebrities with very little substance.
I found that quote in the liner notes of Nugent’s 1986 Little Miss Dangerous CD, which I borrowed from the library recently. Ted, being his usual humble self, touted the album as “one of the sexiest, slinkiest, motherfuckingest grooves I’ve ever nuzzled out of my…guitar,” adding that “This is the audio high point of my career.” Uh-huh. The write-up also referred to the song “Little Miss Dangerous” as “Ted’s calling card on MTV and a Rock radio smash…” Riiiight. I do remember the “LMD” video getting a few spins on “Headbanger’s Ball” back in the day, but I sure don’t recall it getting any radio airplay at all, let alone the song being a “Rock radio smash”. Instead, I remember that album as just another in the string of mediocre ‘80s platters that Terrible Ted put out, which subsequently led him to put his ego away for a while and join Damn Yankees in ’89.
KING OF DE NILE?
Get a load of what the K.C. Star’s Jason Whitlock—a sports columnist, mind you—had to say about Michael Jackson:
“…I shed tears when the text messages from friends started rolling in about Jackson’s death…I just want to enjoy Michael Jackson’s music. I don’t want to know or debate whether he bleached his skin white. And you’ll never convince me Michael molested children. Never…You’ll never convince me because I’ll never take the time to research the evidence. I won’t even listen to people discuss it…I’m sorry, I know I sound childish, but it’s impossible for me to believe that a human being who inspired so much peace, love and harmony could be capable of the heinous act of molesting a child.”
First off, I find it hard to picture a self-promoting jackass like Jason Whitlock shedding tears. Second off, talk about putting your head in the sand and keeping it there. Regardless of whether you think MJ was guilty of improprieties, if you (Jason) want me to take you seriously as a columnist/journalist, you have be more open-minded than this! Hell, I find it hard to believe that a brilliant music producer like Phil Spector is capable of murder, but it sure appears he was. That’s life in the big city, unfortunately, and it‘s obvious JW is in denial in regards to Michael Jackson. MJ had a brilliant musical career, no question, but there can be NO denying that something was clearly wrong with the man in his private life. As for Whitlock, I agree totally with the person who posted on the Star’s website who said that Jason needs to cease writing about himself so much in his columns—he’s not nearly as “cool” as he thinks he is. Besides, that’s what blogs like this are for…
By the way, what’s any of this got to do with sports, anyway?
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Dammit, Jim--I'm a blogger, not a doctor!
MICHAEL JACKSON IS STILL DEAD!
At least that’s how the news media coverage of this thing is coming across to me—shades of another General Francisco Franco SNL bit. The crawl on CNN this morning still kept flashing “Singer Michael Jackson, Dead At 50...” No shit?
My random thoughts about the whole thing:
Hope no one was offended by what I wrote the other night about Michael Jackson already being dead to me for many years, but I’m being honest when I say that. The singer that I grooved to and enjoyed ceased to exist in the early ‘90s, having been possessed and replaced by this strange humanoid who did creepy and/or ill-advised things. This by no means diminishes what he did in his career—the guy freakin’ owned the Pop charts for about two years (1982-84) and no one could touch him as a performer. To this day, I STILL can’t figure out how he did that moonwalk thing! As for the music, I always loved the Jackson Five stuff from the early ‘70s—Top 40 hits don‘t get much better than “I‘ll Be There” and “Never Can Say Goodbye” with MJ‘s lead vocals and his brothers‘ beautiful harmonies—as well as some of the solo Michael stuff like “Ben” and “Rockin’ Robin”. I remember thinking to myself the first time I ever heard “Rock With You”, “Man, that sounds pretty sweet—the boy has grown up!" It even sounded stellar on AM. And when Thriller came out, I remember how my friend Tom and I were excited about Eddie Van Halen playing on “Beat It”, but that song could’ve easily gone #1 without Ed's help. Then Michael took over MTV, and the rest is history. Bad had the unenviable task of following Thriller and it didn’t live up to its name—it was actually a good record but not a great one, and will always feel like a comedown, no matter what, just like how Caribou was a comedown for Elton John in the wake of Yellow Brick Road and likewise Tusk for Fleetwood Mac following Rumours. The last really good thing I remember Michael Jackson doing was “Leave Me Alone” in ‘89 before everything turned weird with him…
As for the weirdness, who knows what happened to the man? No question he had a fucked-up childhood from the get-go, and his old man is very much to blame, no matter how often (and loudly) he denies it. Fame also has a way of turning one’s brain to mush, and considering the lofty heights MJ ascended to, it’s no surprise that the cheese slipped off his proverbial cracker. His death has already been compared with Elvis Presley’s, and there are certainly some parallels, especially if it’s proven that MJ was over-medicated, as is being suspected. I think both Michael and Elvis were incredibly lonely people who, once they achieved mega-superstardom, couldn’t really trust anyone to be a true friend or lover, even if that person really was on the level. Jackson’s marriages were a sham, and I have my doubts whether he really fathered those three kids of his—I think the whole fatherhood thing was just for show, just like when Elton John married that gal in 1984. I would even venture that Michael Jackson was every bit as gay as Elton is, and I’d have respected him more if he’d just come out instead of pretending to be straight when it was pretty obvious he wasn’t. MJ’s financial woes are well-documented as well, with millions of dollars frittered away on his Neverland ranch, lavish art purchases, legal fees, etc. I also can’t help but wonder how much of that money went toward silencing those who accused him of improprieties with little boys. On that count, it’s pretty hard to feel sorry for him.
Then there’s the whole physical appearance issue, which turned this once good-looking young black guy into a fairly unattractive albino woman. What on earth possessed MJ to continuously alter his appearance the way he did? He should’ve quite while he was ahead after Bad came out, but he obviously became addicted to it. I can understand wanting to make a change or two—if I had the money, I’d have my nose reduced in a New York minute—but what Jackson did borders on sheer lunacy. What’s worse is all those physicians who were willing to do it to him, too.
Why are MJ fans running out and buying up MJ CDs all of a sudden? If he’s your favorite singer, wouldn’t you already have all his stuff? I never have understood this phenomenon when someone famous dies and there’s a run on their music. And it’s not like Jackson had anything new out that people might not have bought yet, unlike when John Lennon was killed.
When this is all said and done, I predict it will come out that Michael basically did himself in (unintentionally, most likely) and that’s a damn shame. Rest in peace, Michael—go have that childhood that so eluded you…
On to other business…
PRETTY FLY FOR A BLACK GUY…
I just have to comment on the minor dust-up from last week where President Obama whacked a fly during a TV interview. Predictably, PETA got their collective panties in a bunch over this, accusing the Prez of being a murderer and all. Shit like this is why I can’t take these PETA people seriously—we’re talking about a fucking fly here, not baby seals being maimed or Michael Vick being cruel to dogs! This reminds of the time some wing-nut PETA woman on the West Coast protested the inhumane treatment of the AFLAC duck on the TV ads. I’ll let you in on a little secret—it’s not a real duck!!
RADIO, SOMEONE STILL LOVES YOU…
While lunching in my car at work the other day, I played around on the radio dial a bit, and pulled in a station on the FM side from the Sedalia/Columbia/Jefferson City area called Power 97 that has a surprisingly good daytime signal. Nothing new under the sun, format-wise—it’s the same old stuff I hear on the K.C. Rock stations—but it’s kinda fun hearing different voices between the songs for a change, as well as the local commercials for farm implements and what-not. Almost felt like being on a road trip. One pet-peeve I have with the chick DJ I heard, though: she kept saying stuff like “That’s ‘Sister Golden Hair’ with America…” Uhhh, you wanna try, “That’s ‘Sister Golden Hair’ BY America,” or “That’s America with ‘Sister Golden Hair’,” hon? I hear other radio jocks do this too, and it bugs the shit out of me. Poor grammar…
By the way, “Sister Golden Hair”—the only song I’ve ever heard that has a count-in at the end!
WHAT A BUMMER!
The Mo’Nique show at Ameristar Casino scheduled for next month has been cancelled. I’m going out on a limb here, but I bet it’s because no one was willing to pay 55 bucks (plus service charge) to see this no-talent hack perform. Nice to know that Americans do still have a little common sense these days…
PREDICTABLE…
The new Independence minor league hockey team announced its name this week: Missouri Mavericks. Mavericks is okay, I guess, but it’s been used already. Reminds me too much of Sarah Palin, Mark Cuban and crappy ‘70s Ford compact cars, too. I was hoping they’d come up with something new and/or unique, and apparently, they passed on my suggestion of “Kansas City Faggots” in honor of Slim Pickens in Blazing Saddles. Their color scheme of light blue and orange doesn’t exactly honk my hooter either—too similar to the old Denver Broncos colors. Oh well, we haven’t had hockey in this town in over five years, so it’s better than nothing.
NOT BACK IN BLACK
At the risk of contradicting myself in terms of “new and/or unique”, I’m pleased to see that the Philadelphia 76ers are reverting back to their old logo and colors from the Dr. J. era/heyday. That black, gold and teal they’d been wearing the last few years just didn’t work for me. Too many sports teams either wear black or have incorporated black into their color schemes in the last ten years (including the Royals, who ditched it year before last), and it’s becoming overdone. Black is cool, but let’s not run it into the ground.
THAT’S S-A-N-F-O-R-D, PERIOD!
Nice job by South Carolina Gov. Sanford of sneaking off to South America to doink some gal on the taxpayers’ dime. Hope she was worth it because his political career is worth about as much as Fred G. Sanford’s “empire” now…
MORE CURRENT THINGS I COULD DO WITHOUT...
A) The talking Volkswagen on the TV commercials, which has became every bit as annoying as the overly-perky Progressive Insurance girl. Achtung, already, dummkopf! B) Perez Hilton. I’m fairly sympathetic to those in the gay community, and this clown isn’t doing them any favors by prolonging a bad stereotype.
CLASSIC MISHEARD LYRIC #116
"I'll Be There"—JACKSON FIVE (1970) "I'll be there...I'll be there..." In honor of the dearly-departed, when I was six years old listening to WHB on the radio, I was also a burgeoning young Kansas City Chiefs fan, and when I first heard this song, I thought they were singing "Bobby Bell...Bobby Bell..." as in the Chiefs Hall of Fame linebacker. I was a weird little kid...
KEEP ON WHAT?
Was listening to some CCR the other day, including the song "Keep On Chooglin'", and wondered what the hell ‘Chooglin’’ means. Can’t say that I’ve ever choogled before. Not on purpose anyway…
THANKS…
…but I wanted a BUD Light!
At least that’s how the news media coverage of this thing is coming across to me—shades of another General Francisco Franco SNL bit. The crawl on CNN this morning still kept flashing “Singer Michael Jackson, Dead At 50...” No shit?
My random thoughts about the whole thing:
Hope no one was offended by what I wrote the other night about Michael Jackson already being dead to me for many years, but I’m being honest when I say that. The singer that I grooved to and enjoyed ceased to exist in the early ‘90s, having been possessed and replaced by this strange humanoid who did creepy and/or ill-advised things. This by no means diminishes what he did in his career—the guy freakin’ owned the Pop charts for about two years (1982-84) and no one could touch him as a performer. To this day, I STILL can’t figure out how he did that moonwalk thing! As for the music, I always loved the Jackson Five stuff from the early ‘70s—Top 40 hits don‘t get much better than “I‘ll Be There” and “Never Can Say Goodbye” with MJ‘s lead vocals and his brothers‘ beautiful harmonies—as well as some of the solo Michael stuff like “Ben” and “Rockin’ Robin”. I remember thinking to myself the first time I ever heard “Rock With You”, “Man, that sounds pretty sweet—the boy has grown up!" It even sounded stellar on AM. And when Thriller came out, I remember how my friend Tom and I were excited about Eddie Van Halen playing on “Beat It”, but that song could’ve easily gone #1 without Ed's help. Then Michael took over MTV, and the rest is history. Bad had the unenviable task of following Thriller and it didn’t live up to its name—it was actually a good record but not a great one, and will always feel like a comedown, no matter what, just like how Caribou was a comedown for Elton John in the wake of Yellow Brick Road and likewise Tusk for Fleetwood Mac following Rumours. The last really good thing I remember Michael Jackson doing was “Leave Me Alone” in ‘89 before everything turned weird with him…
As for the weirdness, who knows what happened to the man? No question he had a fucked-up childhood from the get-go, and his old man is very much to blame, no matter how often (and loudly) he denies it. Fame also has a way of turning one’s brain to mush, and considering the lofty heights MJ ascended to, it’s no surprise that the cheese slipped off his proverbial cracker. His death has already been compared with Elvis Presley’s, and there are certainly some parallels, especially if it’s proven that MJ was over-medicated, as is being suspected. I think both Michael and Elvis were incredibly lonely people who, once they achieved mega-superstardom, couldn’t really trust anyone to be a true friend or lover, even if that person really was on the level. Jackson’s marriages were a sham, and I have my doubts whether he really fathered those three kids of his—I think the whole fatherhood thing was just for show, just like when Elton John married that gal in 1984. I would even venture that Michael Jackson was every bit as gay as Elton is, and I’d have respected him more if he’d just come out instead of pretending to be straight when it was pretty obvious he wasn’t. MJ’s financial woes are well-documented as well, with millions of dollars frittered away on his Neverland ranch, lavish art purchases, legal fees, etc. I also can’t help but wonder how much of that money went toward silencing those who accused him of improprieties with little boys. On that count, it’s pretty hard to feel sorry for him.
Then there’s the whole physical appearance issue, which turned this once good-looking young black guy into a fairly unattractive albino woman. What on earth possessed MJ to continuously alter his appearance the way he did? He should’ve quite while he was ahead after Bad came out, but he obviously became addicted to it. I can understand wanting to make a change or two—if I had the money, I’d have my nose reduced in a New York minute—but what Jackson did borders on sheer lunacy. What’s worse is all those physicians who were willing to do it to him, too.
Why are MJ fans running out and buying up MJ CDs all of a sudden? If he’s your favorite singer, wouldn’t you already have all his stuff? I never have understood this phenomenon when someone famous dies and there’s a run on their music. And it’s not like Jackson had anything new out that people might not have bought yet, unlike when John Lennon was killed.
When this is all said and done, I predict it will come out that Michael basically did himself in (unintentionally, most likely) and that’s a damn shame. Rest in peace, Michael—go have that childhood that so eluded you…
On to other business…
PRETTY FLY FOR A BLACK GUY…
I just have to comment on the minor dust-up from last week where President Obama whacked a fly during a TV interview. Predictably, PETA got their collective panties in a bunch over this, accusing the Prez of being a murderer and all. Shit like this is why I can’t take these PETA people seriously—we’re talking about a fucking fly here, not baby seals being maimed or Michael Vick being cruel to dogs! This reminds of the time some wing-nut PETA woman on the West Coast protested the inhumane treatment of the AFLAC duck on the TV ads. I’ll let you in on a little secret—it’s not a real duck!!
RADIO, SOMEONE STILL LOVES YOU…
While lunching in my car at work the other day, I played around on the radio dial a bit, and pulled in a station on the FM side from the Sedalia/Columbia/Jefferson City area called Power 97 that has a surprisingly good daytime signal. Nothing new under the sun, format-wise—it’s the same old stuff I hear on the K.C. Rock stations—but it’s kinda fun hearing different voices between the songs for a change, as well as the local commercials for farm implements and what-not. Almost felt like being on a road trip. One pet-peeve I have with the chick DJ I heard, though: she kept saying stuff like “That’s ‘Sister Golden Hair’ with America…” Uhhh, you wanna try, “That’s ‘Sister Golden Hair’ BY America,” or “That’s America with ‘Sister Golden Hair’,” hon? I hear other radio jocks do this too, and it bugs the shit out of me. Poor grammar…
By the way, “Sister Golden Hair”—the only song I’ve ever heard that has a count-in at the end!
WHAT A BUMMER!
The Mo’Nique show at Ameristar Casino scheduled for next month has been cancelled. I’m going out on a limb here, but I bet it’s because no one was willing to pay 55 bucks (plus service charge) to see this no-talent hack perform. Nice to know that Americans do still have a little common sense these days…
PREDICTABLE…
The new Independence minor league hockey team announced its name this week: Missouri Mavericks. Mavericks is okay, I guess, but it’s been used already. Reminds me too much of Sarah Palin, Mark Cuban and crappy ‘70s Ford compact cars, too. I was hoping they’d come up with something new and/or unique, and apparently, they passed on my suggestion of “Kansas City Faggots” in honor of Slim Pickens in Blazing Saddles. Their color scheme of light blue and orange doesn’t exactly honk my hooter either—too similar to the old Denver Broncos colors. Oh well, we haven’t had hockey in this town in over five years, so it’s better than nothing.
NOT BACK IN BLACK
At the risk of contradicting myself in terms of “new and/or unique”, I’m pleased to see that the Philadelphia 76ers are reverting back to their old logo and colors from the Dr. J. era/heyday. That black, gold and teal they’d been wearing the last few years just didn’t work for me. Too many sports teams either wear black or have incorporated black into their color schemes in the last ten years (including the Royals, who ditched it year before last), and it’s becoming overdone. Black is cool, but let’s not run it into the ground.
THAT’S S-A-N-F-O-R-D, PERIOD!
Nice job by South Carolina Gov. Sanford of sneaking off to South America to doink some gal on the taxpayers’ dime. Hope she was worth it because his political career is worth about as much as Fred G. Sanford’s “empire” now…
MORE CURRENT THINGS I COULD DO WITHOUT...
A) The talking Volkswagen on the TV commercials, which has became every bit as annoying as the overly-perky Progressive Insurance girl. Achtung, already, dummkopf! B) Perez Hilton. I’m fairly sympathetic to those in the gay community, and this clown isn’t doing them any favors by prolonging a bad stereotype.
CLASSIC MISHEARD LYRIC #116
"I'll Be There"—JACKSON FIVE (1970) "I'll be there...I'll be there..." In honor of the dearly-departed, when I was six years old listening to WHB on the radio, I was also a burgeoning young Kansas City Chiefs fan, and when I first heard this song, I thought they were singing "Bobby Bell...Bobby Bell..." as in the Chiefs Hall of Fame linebacker. I was a weird little kid...
KEEP ON WHAT?
Was listening to some CCR the other day, including the song "Keep On Chooglin'", and wondered what the hell ‘Chooglin’’ means. Can’t say that I’ve ever choogled before. Not on purpose anyway…
THANKS…
…but I wanted a BUD Light!
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Death, I hear you calling...
The Reaper's been a busy som-bitch in the celebrity world this week—especially today. June 25, 2009 will no doubt go down as one of those "Where were you when you heard..." kind of days.
MICHAEL JACKSON, 1958-2009
I just signed on to the computer 15 minutes ago and was dumbstruck by the news of Jacko's passing, even though I've often predicted a premature demise for him, not unlike that of Elvis Presley 32 years ago. They haven't given any details on cause of death, but I have a strong suspicion it was self-inflicted (intentionally or otherwise). Then again, the Michael Jackson I knew and revered has been dead a long time now, ever since the multi-talented good-looking black kid I grew up listening to was replaced by the sissified, crotch-grabbing, zombie-looking white pervert who had a thing for little boys. Anybody remember the animated Jackson 5 Saturday morning cartoon show in the early '70s? That's what really got me into the Jacksons, and I prefer to remember Michael the way I first encountered him—as a 12-year-old fronting the group with his brothers, singing classics like "I'll Be There" and "Never Can Say Goodbye" when I fell asleep with the radio tuned to WHB every night when I was six years old. I still need to digest this story more before I can properly comment on it, but for now, I'll just say that I'm in shock, yet I'm not shocked at the same time.
FARRAH FAWCETT, 1947-2009
The inevitable finally happened today. Rather than re-hash what I’ve already written about her, I kindly redirect you to my Farrah commentary from last month. At least the suffering is over for her now...
To lose not one, but two '70s icons on the same day is a bit tough to take.
ED McMAHON, 1923-2009
Since I grew up watching the "Tonight Show" in the '70s, I consider Ed to be one of my '70s icons too, in a way. I think we could see his passing coming for quite a while now, and sadly, Ed’s memory is a bit sullied by his recent financial woes. Still, it’s hard to imagine what late nights back in the day would’ve been like without this man. We all knew his hearty laughter on the "Tonight Show" was often forced, but it was still reassuring to me, for some reason, and he was like a steady anchor every night, especially when Johnny wasn’t on. And whenever I hear the name Alpo, I almost automatically think of McMahon’s frequent live dog food commercials on the show, especially this one where a finicky dog passed on the chow and Carson got on all fours to sub for the pooch. Ed was a good sport whenever JC would razz him about his drinking habits (which I don’t think were quite as prolific as Johnny made them out to be) and even when the late George Carlin said, "Just once, wouldn’t you love to see someone on the Johnny Carson panel go ‘Ooooh, goddamn, Ed—move down, will ya!" I also always loved it when he kept repeating Johnny’s answers during the Carnac The Magnificent bits, culminating with "I now hold in my hand, the LAST envelope…"
Now, I coulda done without the Publishers Clearinghouse TV ads, as well as "Star Search" in the ‘80s, but I actually did enjoy Ed’s work when he co-hosted Jerry Lewis’s telethon all those years. In fact, I think I enjoyed Ed more than Jerry, sometimes. As for the money stuff, Ed should’ve divorced that wife of his a long time ago—from what I hear, she’s the one who frittered away all his dough! A rather ignominious end to a fine career. S’long, Ed...
And from what I hear, the news is not good regarding newscasting legend Walter Cronkite, either...
MICHAEL JACKSON, 1958-2009
I just signed on to the computer 15 minutes ago and was dumbstruck by the news of Jacko's passing, even though I've often predicted a premature demise for him, not unlike that of Elvis Presley 32 years ago. They haven't given any details on cause of death, but I have a strong suspicion it was self-inflicted (intentionally or otherwise). Then again, the Michael Jackson I knew and revered has been dead a long time now, ever since the multi-talented good-looking black kid I grew up listening to was replaced by the sissified, crotch-grabbing, zombie-looking white pervert who had a thing for little boys. Anybody remember the animated Jackson 5 Saturday morning cartoon show in the early '70s? That's what really got me into the Jacksons, and I prefer to remember Michael the way I first encountered him—as a 12-year-old fronting the group with his brothers, singing classics like "I'll Be There" and "Never Can Say Goodbye" when I fell asleep with the radio tuned to WHB every night when I was six years old. I still need to digest this story more before I can properly comment on it, but for now, I'll just say that I'm in shock, yet I'm not shocked at the same time.
FARRAH FAWCETT, 1947-2009
The inevitable finally happened today. Rather than re-hash what I’ve already written about her, I kindly redirect you to my Farrah commentary from last month. At least the suffering is over for her now...
To lose not one, but two '70s icons on the same day is a bit tough to take.
ED McMAHON, 1923-2009
Since I grew up watching the "Tonight Show" in the '70s, I consider Ed to be one of my '70s icons too, in a way. I think we could see his passing coming for quite a while now, and sadly, Ed’s memory is a bit sullied by his recent financial woes. Still, it’s hard to imagine what late nights back in the day would’ve been like without this man. We all knew his hearty laughter on the "Tonight Show" was often forced, but it was still reassuring to me, for some reason, and he was like a steady anchor every night, especially when Johnny wasn’t on. And whenever I hear the name Alpo, I almost automatically think of McMahon’s frequent live dog food commercials on the show, especially this one where a finicky dog passed on the chow and Carson got on all fours to sub for the pooch. Ed was a good sport whenever JC would razz him about his drinking habits (which I don’t think were quite as prolific as Johnny made them out to be) and even when the late George Carlin said, "Just once, wouldn’t you love to see someone on the Johnny Carson panel go ‘Ooooh, goddamn, Ed—move down, will ya!" I also always loved it when he kept repeating Johnny’s answers during the Carnac The Magnificent bits, culminating with "I now hold in my hand, the LAST envelope…"
Now, I coulda done without the Publishers Clearinghouse TV ads, as well as "Star Search" in the ‘80s, but I actually did enjoy Ed’s work when he co-hosted Jerry Lewis’s telethon all those years. In fact, I think I enjoyed Ed more than Jerry, sometimes. As for the money stuff, Ed should’ve divorced that wife of his a long time ago—from what I hear, she’s the one who frittered away all his dough! A rather ignominious end to a fine career. S’long, Ed...
And from what I hear, the news is not good regarding newscasting legend Walter Cronkite, either...
Saturday, June 20, 2009
We don't need no stinking new stadium!
I finally took my ass out to the ballgame this week and checked out the newly-remodeled Kauffman Stadium and I was quite impressed with the renovations. I knew there were lots of changes, but as I approached the stadium on foot, I overheard Kiss' "War Machine" playing on the P.A. and thought to myself, "This is not your father's Kauffman Stadium!" 
Let's get the dumb stuff out of the way first—I don't get the point of these two big chunks they took out of the upper deck. Ostensibly, they're supposed to be gathering spots for people to stand around and watch the game from, but was it really worth wiping out several hundred seats for?
I always wanted to see the famed fountains up close, and now we can!
New statuary has been added at the "K" since my last visit. This would be the late Dick Howser...
...and Royals' Hall of Famer Frank White, who was a member of the original construction crew for then-Royals Stadium in the offseason back in the early '70s.
Now THAT'S a Hi-Def TV!
True to form, the Royals lost when I attended one of their games, but I was quite pleased to see that what was once the coolest stadium in Major League Baseball still is!
And across the parking lot, work continues on The 'Head. Hope it turns out just as nice as its beisbol counterpart...
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