Concert #109

Kiss/The Envy (Saturday, September 4, 2010—Minnesota State Fairgrounds Grandstand, St. Paul, MN) Ticket price: $70.00

I didn’t even know I would be attending this show before last week, since my weekend road trip to the Twin Cities was sort of a spur-of-the-moment thing.  But when I was looking for something to do on a Saturday night in the Twin Cities and discovered that the Hottest Band In The World would be in town, I said “What the hey,” and snagged a ticket for my second Kiss concert in nine months and 17th in 31 years.  Yes, I admit it—I’m a Kiss junkie, but you know what?  I don’t give a monkey’s what other people think about what I do anymore, and as a certain Kiss lyric goes, “it ain’t a crime to be good to yourself.”  I like to think of it this way:  If you like BBQ ribs, you don’t just eat them once and never touch them again, right?  I know what I’m getting at a Kiss show, and I enjoy it.  And to their everlasting credit, Kiss is constantly updating their show by adding new effects and tweaking the set list, and in many ways, this was an even better show than I saw at Sprint Center here back in December, in spite of the crummy venue it was played in this time.

The Fairgrounds Grandstand is a former equestrian show/rodeo facility that was converted into a concert venue, and not a particularly good one.  While I certainly didn’t expect it to be the second coming of the Hollywood Bowl or Red Rocks, it still left a lot to be desired.  Overall, I was very unimpressed with the place—it’s poorly laid-out, the rinky-dink men’s restrooms actually had longer lines than the women’s, and the ushers were quite unhelpful.  The section my ticket was in was called the Porch, which was two rows of folding chairs that were unnumbered, so it was up to me (not the usher, evidently) to start at the end and count 13 chairs over to find my seat.  My seat had a great line of sight about eye-level with Gene Simmons at stage right—that is, when no one was walking/standing in the chasm-like walkway in front of me!  It would’ve been nice if TicketBastard had warned me this was an obstructed-view ticket I was purchasing.  I'm at about 1:00 above Gene Simmons' head near the white railing in this photo—I'm the one wearing black.  Anyway, I also began to wonder if they actually cleaned this place up before they retrofit it, because I kept getting a whiff of horsie-doody wafting in the air all night long—the place smelled like the Last Roundup!  While the Grandstand is still a cut above our abysmal Sandstone Amphitheater here, I won’t be in any big rush to do another concert there.

This show was noteworthy because it was the first time I took a camera to a Kiss concert.  Instead of being dickheads about it, Kiss doesn’t mind if you take pictures or videos, so long as you aren’t using professional-grade photo/video equipment.  They figure they can’t stop people from using their camera phones anyway, so why not cut the fans some slack?  If anything, they encourage it, based on all the fan-originated photos and videos they post on Facebook, thus, I made my first ersatz attempt at concert bootlegging.  The videos for "Cold Gin", "Firehouse" and "Shout It Out Loud" that I've linked on here are mine and should give you a pretty good idea of how alternately good/shitty my seat was, too.  The remainder of the videos I'm linking below are from other fans on YouTube.  Hell, I can just about piece together the whole damn concert here!  This show was also noteworthy in that it’s the first time in ages that I drank no alcohol at a Rock show—it’s gotten too damn expensive!  Besides, I was out an extra $21 between the parking and cost of admission just to get into the Fair itself on top of the $70 bucks (plus “convenience” fee) I paid for the ticket, so I was into this show for over $100 already.  And you know what?  In spite of the good/bad view and inconveniences, I still managed to enjoy the show without drinking.  Sobriety—what a concept!

The band made their entrance on the new gizmo they added since last time I saw them, a moving platform that rises from behind the stage up and over drummer Eric Singer, delivering Gene Simmons, Paul Stanley and Tommy Thayer safely to center stage during the intro to “Modern Day Delilah”.  In spite of the sucky-ness of the venue, the sound was phenomenal—easily the best-sounding Kiss concert I’ve ever attended.  The mix had just the right amount of bass and treble, everyone’s instruments and mics sounded crystal clear, although it could’ve stood to be just a skosh louder.  This was the third Kiss gig in three nights, as they played Milwaukee and Chicago before St. Paul, thus no doubt contributing to the raspiness in Stanley’s voice.  It seems only fitting that we were in a former horse venue, because Paul sounded very hoarse early on, especially while talking between songs.  I kept waiting for the Starchild to make some remark about the town being named after him, but he never did.

To my surprise, they added one more cut to the set list from the Sonic Boom CD, “I’m An Animal” but for some reason, they keep avoiding the really standout tunes from that album like “Hot And Cold”, “Never Enough”, “Stand” and “All For The Glory”.  The usual suspects were there, of course, like “Cold Gin”, “Firehouse” , “Love Gun”, "Deuce" , “I Love It Loud”, “Calling Dr. Love”, "Let Me Go, Rock 'N' Roll" and “100,000 Years” .  Another surprise addition was “Crazy Crazy Nights”, one of Kiss’ weaker hits from the ‘80s, IMHO, and they probably should’ve left it there.  The backing vocals during the choruses sounded awful as Gene, Eric and Tommy each sang in a different key and Paul struggled to hit his own high parts.  Young master Thayer seems to have gained some confidence in his singing since last time I saw Kiss, and he belted out Ace Frehley’s “Shock Me” with more oomph this time, almost as if he was channeling the Spaceman.  Thayer and young master Singer also did a nifty trade-off guitar and drum solo bit that was actually more entertaining than if they had performed separate solos.  Singer’s drum platform didn’t rotate around like last time, but did rise up and down several times throughout the show.

Stanley did his usual "flying" bit during "I Was Made For Lovin' You" out to the small rotating stage in the crowd that was only 20 yards or so to my right.  He also threw in the first verse of Led Zeppelin’s “Whole Lotta Love” during the intro to “Black Diamond”.  There was a time when Kiss would play the exact same set list night after night during the Reunion and “Farewell” Tours when Frehley and Peter Criss were in the band, but this was a vastly different set list than the show I saw in December at Sprint Center.  Now I’m beginning to see Ace and Peter’s limitations as musicians, because Thayer and Singer are much more flexible and able to adapt to different material more easily, whereas Ace and Peter could only get through the same 18 songs every night, especially Peter.  When Kiss toured Japan in ’01 with Singer replacing Criss, it’s no small coincidence that they tried out some songs they hadn’t played in years like “Take Me” and “Mr. Speed”.

Kiss also flip-flopped the batting order a bit this time, with “Detroit Rock City” closing the show and “Rock And Roll All Nite” returning to its customary “clean-up” spot, so to speak, at the end of the encores where it belongs.  As with last time, the band played an extended six-song encore that included “Shout It Out Loud”, which also fits in much better toward the end than early on like they’ve done in recent years.  Before the encore, the band honored some local armed forces personnel and Paul even led the audience in the Pledge of Allegiance before presenting a check to the military men for almost $350,000 for the charity Kiss sponsors called Wounded Warriors Care Fund, which goes toward helping wounded servicemen and women.  Right afterwards, someone down front threw a wad of cash that landed at Stanley’s feet, which I thought was rather cool.  And in another new wrinkle, Kiss dusted off Gene Simmons’ favorite song, “Beth” with Eric Singer on vocals and Stanley and Thayer on acoustic guitars.  This was the first time I’d ever actually seen them PLAY this song live in person all these years as opposed to Peter Criss singing along to the backing track—why in blue blazes couldn’t they have done it like this when Pete was in the band?  Oh well, Singer lived up to his surname and did a nice job.  By the time they got to “Rock And Roll All Nite”, Kiss had played 21 songs and well over two hours, but the fun wasn’t over yet.  The traditional confetti storm during RARAN transformed the Grandstand into a faux winter wonderland, although it wouldn’t surprise me if it really does snow in September around these parts!  Kiss finished up with their usual show-ending pyrotechnics, and as soon as their last bomb went off, more bombs started bursting in air behind the stage as a hellacious fireworks display got underway.  I’m not sure if this was Kiss’ doing or if it was part of the State Fair itself, but this thing went on for a good 20 minutes, and was most impressive, and the resulting mushroom cloud it left behind hovered over St. Paul and was visible for miles—I could actually see it from Bloomington on the way back to my hotel!

Opening act The Envy is a five-piece out of Toronto.  I arrived to hear the last four songs of their set, which was nothing terribly earth-shattering, but they didn't suck, either.  They sounded slightly U2-ish at times.

As I departed the venue following the rocket's red glare, I encountered this dude in the pic posing for photos with fans.  He wasn't the real Gene Simmons, but a damn good facsimilie of him.  I’m all set for Kiss concert #18 now, as this never gets old with me. Don’t know if Kiss plans any more K.C. dates any time soon, but to Gene and Paul and the boys I say, “Y’all come back now, y’hear?”

SET LIST:  Modern Day Delilah/Cold Gin/Let Me Go, Rock ‘N’ Roll/ Firehouse/Say Yeah/Deuce/Crazy Crazy Nights/Calling Dr. Love/Shock Me/I’m An Animal/100,000 Years/I Love It Loud/Love Gun/Black Diamond (w/excerpt from Whole Lotta Love)/Detroit Rock City  ENCORE:  Beth/Lick It Up/Shout It Out Loud/I Was Made For Lovin’ You/God Gave Rock ‘N’ Roll To You II/Rock And Roll All Nite

Travelblog, Twin Cities

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"Reelin' In The Years" - Vol. 2

More gems from my old personal journals with addended commentary...

Thu. May 2, 1991:  “I finally got around to seeing downtown Cleveland late in the afternoon and wasn’t terribly impressed.  Folks, it’s a dive.  Downtown was dirty, and cops had to direct traffic because the lights couldn’t do the job.  I tried to approach Cleveland with an open mind, but I now see where they get their bad rap.  It’s a mess.”
Cleve-Land made some marvelous strides toward respectability by my next visit there in 1994 when Jacobs Field and Gund Arena opened.  It’s even nicer now with the Browns new stadium and Rock ‘N’ Roll Hall of Fame next door.  While still far from paradise, they’re no longer the “mistake by the lake.”

Fri. May 3, 1991:  “Made my long-awaited journey to Tiger Stadium.  Got there early and got a place to park right next to the ballpark, but I’d have to stay for the whole game (because they parked people back-to-back to conserve space).  No problem…or so I thought.  Meanwhile, the temperature at game time was 54 degrees, and dropped even further after the sun went down.  My nose started getting to me (allergies) and I lasted all of five innings in the cold.  This game was interminable—it took ‘em 2.5 hours just to play five innings.  I finally gave up and went back to the car, even though I couldn’t go anywhere until one of the cars next to me moved.  I just played with the radio while the game droned on.  People were leaving in droves, but none of them were parked next to me.  Finally the 9th inning arrived and Texas led 6-4 with two out and one on.  Detroit was down to their last strike when Rob Deer hit a 2-run homer to tie the game and send it into extra innings.  I damn near died!  I had to take a leak, so I walked around the stadium to this little bar on Trumbull and took care of business.  When I rounded the stadium again, the car behind me was gone, and I was finally free.”
D’oh!  If I had only dressed more appropriately for the weather, I’d have just stayed in the ballpark.  Still, it was kinda fun skipping around the AM dial and picking up all those Canadian radio stations I never got to hear, not to mention listening to the late great Ernie Harwell call the Tigers game.

Wed. May 29, 1991:  “Singer Wayne Newton is spending a few days in a Las Vegas hospital with what his spokesman calls ‘walking pnuemonia’.  I think he finally got a good look at his act…”
I never have liked this hack entertainer, thus the pot shot here.

Wed. May 29, 1991:  “Some lady called in on KMBZ 'Sportsline' saying that she didn’t like Hal McRae as manager of the Royals because he talks funny and he wears his cap crooked in the dugout.”
Yeah, that’s grounds for dismissal, alright.  The guy hadn’t even been the Royals’ skipper for a week yet, and people were already dogging on the man.  And I, for the record, liked him as manager.

Thu. June 6, 1991:  “Bathing beauty Esther Williams was asked to leave a charity function at the Los Angeles Country Club because she was wearing pants—even though she was the guest of honor.”
I suppose if she wore a bathing suit, she could’ve stayed…

Mon. June 10, 1991:  “The NL Expansion Committee recommended that Denver and Miami be the new entries in the Senior Circuit.  Team names have not been announced, but I suggest the Denver Omelets and Miami Vices.”
They, of course, became the Colorado Rockies and Florida Marlins.

Tue. July 23, 1991:  “Some sick motherfucker in Milwaukee was arrested after police found numerous body parts in his apartment.  Neighbors said that they’d often heard chainsaw noises, but never bothered to check it out.  It seems as though this motherfucker is a cannibal too.  What a nutty guy!”
That “nutty guy” was, of course, one Jeffrey Dahmer, S.M.F.

Thu. August 15, 1991:  “Aerosmith signed a deal with Sony (aka CBS) for $30 million, even though they still owe Geffen two more studio LPs and a greatest hits package.  By the time they start recording for Sony, they’ll be well into their 40s.  Strange deal.”
Now they’re well into their ‘60s and still recording.  Makes me wonder why I was so concerned about their ages in the first place.

Sun. August 18, 1991:  “While we were browsing at blank tapes (at Montgomery Ward), we encountered a live turd right there on the floor.  Actually, there were two of them.  Some man, woman, child, dog, horse or chimpanzee left their doody right there in the aisles.  What’s worse, no one bothered to clean it up!  I know Wards has a lot of crap for sale, but this is ridiculous!”
Too bad we weren’t in aisle where they sold poop scoopers…it was way too early for Mr. Hankey to make his annual appearance.

Sun. August 18, 1991:  “Singer and former Beatle comrade Billy Preston was busted at his home in Malibu for suspicion of sexual battery, showing pornographic material to a minor, cocaine possession, and being under the influence of a controlled substance.”
Somehow, I don’t think “That’s The Way God Planned It” at all, eh, Billy?  I was really disappointed to hear about this, and it chafes me no end when these singers who get all righteous with the Gospel music stuff turn around and pull crap like this.  I seem to remember Gospel singer Edwin Hawkins got busted for cocaine possession in the ‘80s too.  Preston was a great musician—sort of the black version of Elton John for a time in the mid-‘70s—but this thing really tainted my memory of him.

Tue. October 8, 1991:  “Bo Jackson’s football career is probably over.  CBS reported that doctors will recommend that he not play football anymore, even as he reported to the Raiders this week.  Pat O’Brien gave the report and said, ‘Bad news for Bo Jackson and Bo Jackson fans, which is all of us, really.’  Sorry, Pat—don’t include me in your group of sycophants.”
I never liked that no-talent hack O’Brien and I was most definitely not part of the Bo Jackson kiss-ass chorus.  I thought he was a fool for playing both sports.

Fri. October 11, 1991:  “Jimmy Swaggart got caught with his pants down again.  Ol’ Jimmy got pulled over in Indio, California for driving on the wrong side of the road, driving an unregistered vehicle, and not wearing a seat belt.  He also had a passenger in the car, who claims to be a prostitute.  One Rosemary Garcia says that Swaggart picked her up to have sex, and that he had several porno mags in the car.  Just another carnal fix, to take him higher and higher…”
That bastard!  How dare he not wear a seat belt!

Tue. November 5, 1991:  “Jermaine Jackson’s new song ‘Word To The Badd’ is a backhanded shot at his brother Michael, with lyrics that go as follows:  Once you were made/You changed your shade/Was your color wrong?/Could not turn back/It’s a known fact/You were gone too far.  Jermaine is hinting that Michael is ashamed of being black…”
Hmmm, this from the same guy who staunchly defended his weirdo brother upon his death.

Thu. November 7, 1991:  “The Attack [our indoor soccer team that replaced my dearly-departed Comets] announced its radio flagship today, and I think we’d be better off attending all their games in person.  KCNW, the Holy Roller station in KCK [Kansas City, KS] will carry all 40 games, with 22-year-old Jeff Grantham doing the play-by-play.  The Attack chose KCNW because their signal reaches Johnson County real good, where most Attack fans are and because KCNW is a family-oriented station and the Attack is a family-oriented team.  The real reason is because no one else wanted them.  I think I’ll move to Wichita…”
That station’s signal is so poor at night that you practically have to be parked under their transmitter to pick them up.  I was still smarting from the loss of the Comets, so I was pretty critical of anything the Attack did because of the smalltime nature of their operation.  As it turned out, Grantham didn’t get the play-by-play gig after all, and Ed Bishop—a fellow Communications Studies major I went to UMKC with—called Attack games that first season.

Rush, SRV, Elton and Arrowhead

I couldn't come up with any clever title for this post, so I just gave you today's line-up instead...


A FINE RUSH HOUR
Well, more like and hour and 45 minutes, but I thoroughly enjoyed viewing Beyond The Lighted Stage, the new DVD Rock doc. on Rush this week.  This is an absolute must for any Rush fan, and it features some fascinating pre-historic band footage from before drummer Neil Peart’s arrival and excellent interviews with all three members of the group, plus high praise from the likes of Gene Simmons of Kiss, Kirk Hammett of Metallica and Les Claypool of Primus, among others.  The documentary was quite educational for me, especially in regards to Peart, who’s a very private and somewhat mysterious individual who always appears to not be having a very good time on stage—remaining stone-faced and all—when in fact the opposite is true.  NP actually does laugh and smile in the video, and was surprisingly open about the dark period he suffered through in the late ‘90s when he lost his daughter and wife within months of each other.  I was also a bit surprised to learn that original drummer John Rutsey was asked to leave the group instead of on his own volition, which I always thought was the case.  He was a diabetic and band management had grave concerns about him being able to handle the rigors of the road, so he reluctantly bowed out before the second album Fly By Night, making Rutsey the Pete Best of Rush, so to speak.  Rutsey wasn’t a bad drummer at all, but Peart is so much more dynamic and he brought more to the table with his lyrical ability and it’s hard to imagine Rush going very far on Geddy Lee’s songwriting sensibilities alone.  Rutsey died in 2008, btw.

Lee came across as affable, good-natured and down-to-earth in the interviews, and Alex Lifeson is rather soft-spoken, but very articulate as well.  These dudes are all first-class musicians, but hardly your typical Rock star-types.  All three of them seem like guys you could kick back and have a few beers and just shoot the shit with about most anything, not just music.  I enjoyed the discussion in the middle about the ‘80s when Lee’s synthesizers were integrated more and more Rush records.  Lifeson was a bit miffed that a lot of his guitar work was being supplanted by the synths, but oddly enough, this was my personal favorite Rush era (Moving Pictures through Hold Your Fire), and although I prefer guitar as well, Rush proved that synthesizers and electronic keyboards had a place on a hard Rock album—when used in moderation, that is.

There was one point on BTLS where the producers came close to shattering "the illusion of integrity", when one-dimensional actor Jack Black interprets Peart’s lyrics by doing a lame Geddy Lee impersonation, which I could've done without.  I’ve never tried to do Geddy myself—Rush is just about the only band that I list among my favorites which I don’t recall ever trying to sing along with much at home or in the car—my voice just can’t keep up with Mr. Lee’s high range vocals.  However, Mr. Peart has some cool bits (like in “Tom Sawyer”, for instance) that are perfect for drumming along to with your fingers on counter tops, desks and dashboards.  Anyway, the rest of Beyond The Lighted Stage is top-notch, and it's a perfect middle-finger pointed at all those Rolling Stone and Creem, et al, critics who mercilessly dissed Rush for so long, and it’s a long-overdue tribute to this world class band’s longevity and consistency.  To wit:  Good job, you hosers!

IT WAS 20 YEARS AGO TODAY…
Well, yesterday, anyway, that we lost Stevie Ray Vaughan in that helicopter crash in Wisconsin.  Doesn’t seem like he’s been gone that long, but I think that’s because his music is still so prevalent on the radio.  Talk about being cut down in one’s prime, I think Stevie Ray was still ascending at the time of his death and had yet to peak.  His albums kept getting better and better each time out, and Vaughan had earned high praise for 1989’s In Step, and he had seemingly conquered his alcoholism—which was seriously endangering his health—when tragedy struck.  I truly believe S.R.V. still had plenty of gas left in his tank too, and we’re all the poorer for not being able to enjoy whatever else he had up his musical sleeve.  Rest in peace, Stevie Ray—we miss you…

HERCULES!  HERCULES!  HERCULES!
Another musical anniversary—a much happier one—kinda flew under the radar this week.  It was 40 years ago Wednesday night that one Elton Hercules John made his American concert debut at the legendary Troubador in Los Angeleez on August 25, 1970.  EJ just blew the critics away that night—even the hippies at Rolling Stone put down their bongs long enough to sit up and take notice—thus lighting the fuse that launched Elton’s meteoric recording career.  From about 1971 through 1975, it was like the man could do no wrong, and everything Captain Fantastic touched turned to gold and/or platinum during that time, culminating in his legendary Dodger Stadium gig (see left), which was a slightly bigger venue than the 300-seat Trubadour.  The ‘70s would’ve been a lot more boring without the boy, too…

EXTREME MAKEOVER, NFL STYLELast time I set foot in Arrowhead Stadium was about five years ago for a Kansas City Wiz(ards) soccer match, and I almost didn’t recognize the place during the open house the K.C. Chefs held Wednesday night to show off the “New Arrowhead—New Body, Same Soul”, as they’re hyping it.  Fans were given access to pretty much the entire stadium while the team staged an informal practice on the field, and I was quite impressed with what I saw.  The main seating bowl remains virtually unchanged, with the only noticeable difference being that the green padding around the wall ringing the field has been replaced by more Chief-like shades of orange, red and yellow, just like the stadium seats.  New state-of-the-art video board technology was already in place before the 2009 season, and there’s plenty of eye candy for short-attention span fans, almost to the point of overkill.  The other noticeable change is the mammoth sky-suite structure hovering over the south side of Arrowhead, which is so tall you can almost see down inside Kauffman Stadium from it.  As I made the long climb through the upper deck to reach the sky-suites, E.Z.O’s “Million Miles Away” started playing on my iPod, which is about how far away I was from the playing field...

The best new feature of all is the Chiefs Hall of Honor on the lower level, which more than exceeded my expectations.  The Chiefs really went all-out to honor their past—the distant past, in particular—and I could’ve spent all night down there checking out all the exhibits and displays on hand, not to mention watching the various video presentations playing overhead.  In a clever touch, they put up bronze busts of every man in the Chiefs Hall of Fame, with all of the offensive players at one end of the hall, the defensive honorees facing them from the other end, and the players were lined up by position more or less just like they would be on the field.  I was initially very peeved to hear that the team removed the Ring of Honor players’ names from the façade of the stadium in favor of the ribbon video boards, but this more than makes up for that transgression.

In addition to individual player recognition, the Lombardi Trophy from Super Bowl IV is on display, right next to a wonderful exhibit on the American Football League, which late Chiefs owner Lamar Hunt co-founded.  Another neat kiosk features these rotating triangles (kinda like on the old “$10,000 Pyramid” game show) you can spin around to view the results of every game the Chiefs have ever played in chronological order, with each triangle displaying the helmet logos of the two teams on one side, the box score on second side, and a reproduction of a newspaper headline from the game on the third side.  Apart from the area being a bit congested with people, the Chiefs H of H was well thought-out and I was very pleased with it—too bad it’s only accessible on game days!



The team also honored Mr. Hunt recently with this brand new statue of his likeness in the north courtyard of the stadium.  It’s a damn shame he didn’t live long enough to see the finished product at Arrowhead—I think he’d be tickled with the results.  In another nifty touch, in the same courtyard, on the walkway leading into the stadium they stenciled in the x’s and o’s diagram of Hank Stram’s favorite running play, “65 Toss Power Trap”, which was a key play in Super Bowl IV against the Vikings.  One would think a statue of Hank himself might be appropriate for the courtyard someday soon.

One aspect of the remodel I could’ve done without was the new glassed-in Club Level where the corporate snobs all congregate.  I found it to be nothing but a monument to opulence and excess instead of football.  I did make it a point to take a piss in the hoity-toity men’s room while I was there—probably the only chance I’ll ever get to do so.  Was a bit disappointed to not find gold-plated urinals in there, tho!  The concession prices were obscene throughout the stadium, but that was no big shock, but at least now there’s plenty of room for the long lines of people on the newly-widened concourses.  One thing I found mildly surprising was the number of people tailgating in the parking lot the other night—just for a free open house!  Tailgating is fun, yes, but it’s like some folks only live to sit behind their vehicles and get ripped while grilling bovine flesh.  A lot of these so-called “Chiefs fans” don’t even give a rip about the games themselves—all they want to do is tailgate.  Whatever floats your boat, I guess.

Anyway, I hereby declared the remodeling of the residence at 1 Arrowhead Drive to be a smashing success, and the ‘Head should continue to serve us well for decades to come.  A few years ago, talk swirled around K.C. of the Royals moving downtown and—even worse—the Chiefs moving out to Wyandotte County by the Kansas Speedway, but as Lindy the flamer in Car Wash said, “That will NOT DO, honey!”  Arrowhead and Kauffman Stadiums were too damn nice to just throw away like used condoms, and I am soooooo glad Kansas City didn’t impulsively go off and build new stadiums for the Chiefs and Royals when we had two perfectly good ones already in place that just needed to be re-tooled and brought into the 21st Century.  I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again—we don’t need no STINKING NEW STADIUMS here!

"Reelin' In The Years" - Vol. 1

While researching facts this week for my upcoming Comets blog manifesto, I’ve been perusing my old journal notes that I used to keep back about 20 years ago.  Not a diary, per se, but a collection of stuff that was going on in my personal life, as well as in the sports/news/entertainment world as well.  I’ve come across quite a few gems that I’d totally forgotten about, so I thought I’d share them here with my original comments in light blue…

Mon. January 14, 1991:  “There is speculation that ABC may not broadcast this year’s Super Bowl should they do 24-hour-a-day coverage of the Persian Gulf thing [war].”
Riiiiiight, like THAT would ever happen!  There wasn’t enough news from that conflict to warrant wall-to-wall coverage anyway, and they sure as hell weren’t about to kiss off all that moolah they would make off the commercials.

Wed. January 23, 1991:  “Two guys combined to win $105,044.60 at the Woodlands on a Superfecta in the 4th race.  After taxes, they received $78,784.60.
Now that the place is closed, it’s easy to forget what a big deal The Woodlands doggie track was over on the Kansas side in the early ‘90s.  Before Wyandotte County snagged the Kansas Speedway, The Woodlands dog and horse tracks were their first major coup, and when pari-mutual betting was a new thing around these parts, people drove in droves out there to bet on the pups.  I remember you used to have to call ahead to reserve a table in the glassed-in area and they charged for parking too.  The Woodlands even used to have a local Saturday night TV show recapping the previous week’s races and winning jackpots and such.  They had no sooner established a foothold on the K.C. area when the riverboat casinos came along in Missouri in 1994 and just killed the dog track, especially when the Gaming Commission allowed slot machines at the boats.  By the end of the decade, The Woodlands was a virtual ghost town and was put to sleep two years ago this week.

Mon. January 28, 1991:  “(I) Took the Beta machine out to Blue Springs for estimate to repair eject mechanism.”
Remember the good ol’ days when you’d take video equipment in for repairs?  Now you just buy a new unit and move on without giving it a second thought!  And, yes, I was still using a Sony Betamax VCR in 1991.  I will defend Beta to my death over VHS—the picture quality was far superior on Beta…

Wed. March 6, 1991:  “In Los Angeles, overzealous policemen beat the crap out of a black man, one Rodney King, during a routine arrest.  What made this story big is that someone caught the entire incident on video.  Big stink coming…”
Man, did I call that one or what?  One of my more accurate prophecies, although I did underestimate how big of a stink it actually developed into...

Tue. March 12, 1991:  “David Letterman’s Top 10 List:  Top 10 Courses Take By UNLV Players
10.  Investing your illegal recruiting money wisely.
9.  NBA Team Mascots:  Are they really big animals?
8.  Naming the Presidents since Kennedy.
7.  The hydraulic principles of the keg.
6.  Your ass from a hole in the ground:  a comparative study.
5.  The college classroom:  a simulation.
4.  Nudie paintings from the olden days.
3.  Copying off the exam of the guy in front of you.
2.  How to spell Tarkanian.
1.  How to choose the best free car.
I don’t recall all the details, but this had to do with some sort of academics scandal at University of Nevada-Las Vegas that led to the downfall of head basketball coach Jerry Tarkanian.  I loved #s 8, 6 and 2 the most.  I'm not so certain Bo Jackson could've passed any of these...

Mon. March 25, 1991:  “Prior to tonight’s Blades-Admirals hockey game at Kemper, Miss USA from Kansas, Kelli McCarty, made an appearance to drop the puck.  They brought her onto the ice in a Mustang convertible, which had as much traction as a greased pig on a water slide.  After two precarious laps around the ice, they tried to drive off after the puck drop, but couldn’t get the car turned around toward the south tunnel, so several of the Blades and Admirals players were kind enough to lend a hand and get the car pointed in the right direction.  None of this seemed to faze Miss McCarty, who just continued waving to the crowd.”
From the “just when you think you’ve seen it all” department.  Miss McCarty reminded me of a Stepford Wife the way she continued to mindlessly wave to the crowd as if nothing was amiss.  My friend Tom, meanwhile, missed the entire 2nd period of the game waiting in line just to get her autograph...dummy!  I didn't think she was all that hot, myself…

Wed. April 3, 1991:  “Bo Jackson signed a guaranteed $1 million contract with the Chicago White Sox, despite the fact that he’s supposed to be hurt.  Either the Sox know something the Royals don’t, or they’re the biggest suckers since the people who fell for Herbalife.  Bo’s motivation to sign with Chicago was so he could come back and haunt the Royals.  I quote:  ‘By them releasing me, it’s given me an opportunity to play for a winner.’  He also said something to the effect that he only played at ‘half-speed’ for the Royals, and that he was better than most players at full-speed.”
He later claimed that late Royals owner Ewing Kauffman had some sort of “personal vendetta” to get him out of Kansas City, hence his release by the Royals.  Sure, Bo, whatever you say.  This coming from a guy who could barely stagger down to first base running out ground balls at that point because of the hip injury he sustained playing for the L.A. Raiders in 1990.  Ewing Kauffman was never known to have a grudge with anyone, including an egomaniac like Bo.  And oh by the way, the Royals were the better team than the White Sox in the early ‘90s.  The whole Bo Jackson sideshow is an era in Royals history most of us would like to forget.  Dumbass should’ve stuck with baseball in the first place—he’d have had a longer career.  What a maroon…

Mon. April 15, 1991:  “The Sac-Of-Shit [Sacramento] Kings set a new all-time NBA record last night for consecutive road losses with their 35th against the mighty Minnesota Timberwolves at the Target Center.”
I took great delight in reveling in the former Kansas City and/or Omaha Kings’ utter futility back then.  That streak ultimately reached 43 games in November of '91.  We weren’t missing a damn thing since they left town…

Wed. April 25, 1991:  “A day after he got whooped, Bjorn Borg’s wife Loredana Berte tried to commit suicide.  C’mon, he didn’t play THAT bad.”
I know that wasn’t funny, but I couldn’t resist.

Mon. April 29, 1991:  “The National Stuttering Project is now on Porky Pig’s case, claiming that he makes fun of people that stutter.”
Reminds me of the animal rights wing-nuts who protested the AFLAC duck circa. 2002, concerned about the violence inflicted upon it.  Uhhhh, folks—it’s not a real duck!  Speaking of animal rights wing-nuts, keep reading a couple items down…

Mon. April 29, 1991:  “The great actor Jeff Conaway, formerly Bobby Wheeler on ‘Taxi’ has been sentenced to house arrest and ordered to attend alcoholism classes for three years for hitting a bicyclist while driving drunk.  Conaway was ordered not to leave his home for 60 days. Hope he stocked the fridge first."
I’d forgotten how far back this dweeb's substance abuse issues went.  Guy couldn’t act his way out of a paper bag anyway, and it seemed only fitting that he was a cab driver on TV—Conaway was a hack playing a hack…

Wed. May 1, 1991:  [En route to Cleveland on a road trip] “Between Columbus and Cleveland, I stumbled across the Rush Limbaugh program on the radio.  He did one of his Animal Rights Updates that just cracked me up.  It seems as though some animal rights crusader was found dead in some farmyard where they kept a bunch of bulls and cows.  Apparently, the woman was trampled to death.  Later, authorities discovered that the bulls and cows were all wearing condoms.  Evidently, the woman was trying to implement birth control amongst these bovines to prevent more of them from being born and later slaughtered.  It didn’t work…”
While I’m loathe to admit I ever even listened to the Big Fat Idiot in the first place, I have to admit that some of the stuff he did back in the early days of his show was pretty funny before he revealed his true colors as a bigoted moose twit.

More classics to come in future posts, so stay tuned, boys and girls!

Welcome back, my friends, to the blog that never ends

“NOTHING’S IN THE PAST—IT ALWAYS SEEMS TO COME AGAIN…”
The late brother Dio was right, and in this case I’m delighted, as indoor soccer is returning to the K.C. area after a five-year hiatus in the form of the Missouri Comets, who begin play in the latest version of the Major Indoor Soccer League this fall.  I’d prefer they call themselves the Kansas City Comets, like my favorite all-time sports franchise, but since they’ll be playing at the Independence Events Center (also home of Missouri Mavericks hockey), they’ll be the Mo. Comets.  But, in a nice compromise, the team is resurrecting the original Comets logo and colors from the ‘80s, thanks to an on-line fan vote in which the old logo trounced the new one they created by a 2-to-1 margin (a little ballot box stuffing by yours truly didn’t hurt, either!).  Unlike the Kansas City “Faux” Comets from the early ‘00s (originally known as the Kansas City Attack), the new team is doing a much better job already of reaching out to us veteran indoor soccer fans who packed Kemper Arena back in the ‘80s and remember when it was real.

Toward that end, in a “meet the new boss/same as the old boss” maneuver, the Comets named Kim Roentved as their first head coach.  For the uninitiated out there, no, they didn’t hire a woman named Kim, but rather the Great Dane himself, whom a local journalist referred to this week as the “Babe Ruth of indoor soccer”.  That’s not quite accurate—Steve “Lord of All Indoors” Zungul was the Bambino (although the late Stan Stemankovic was built more like the Babe) and I have a better analogy for Roentved anyway:  Kim is the Bobby Orr of indoor soccer—a great defender who was also a huge part of the offense.  Defenders aren’t supposed to average 24 goals a season!  “The Rocket” (as he was nicknamed for his rocket-hard shots on goal) was the first guy I thought of as a potential head coach, remembering what a great on-field leader he was for the Wichita Wings and (later) the Comets back in the day.  I also fully expect former Comet greats like Gino Schiraldi and Alan Mayer to be involved in the new franchise in some capacity.  It shouldn’t be too hard to round up former Comets in this area—so many of them (Roentved included) liked living here so much once they got to Kansas City that they relocated their families and have stayed put ever since.  KR also has previous head coaching experience with Wichita in the ‘90s, and I, Brigadier General Comet, am very pleased that he’ll be running the new show here.  [NOTE: I used to be Captain Comet, but after all these years, I thought I deserved a promotion!]

My only real concern about Comets v. 3.0 is the venue and the smalltime-ness of the league.  The IEC seats 5,800 people, which is fine for minor minor league hockey like the Mavericks, but the Comets should be able to attract bigger crowds than that—like in the 7,000-8,000 range, so they may outgrow the place rather quickly.  My hope is that’s exactly what they intend to do sometime down the road and perhaps move to the big house downtown eventually.  The current MISL has been struggling to stay afloat for years, and they were down to only five franchises—Baltimore, Milwaukee, Philadelphia, Rockford, IL (?!?), and Monterrey, Mexico—before the Comets joined, and they’ve since added Omaha to the fold as well.  To really have a league, in my opinion, you need a minimum of eight teams, and ten or more would be preferable.  If the current MISL really wants this thing to take off again, it’s imperative they place teams as soon as possible in the old MISL hotbeds like St. Louis, Cleveland and Dallas, not to mention Wichita, which supported the old Wings passionately, and I truly miss our rivalry with their fans, whom I used to call the “Wing-A-Lings”.  The league needs to make this thing coast-to-coast, too, not just a regional concern, and with all the different sports channels on cable (ESPN, Fox Sports Net, Versus, TBS/TNT, etc.), surely they could find a TV outlet for the league somewhere.  Indoor soccer is too good a sport to have to languish in obscurity like it has the last 20 years or so.

Oh, by the way, I have not forgotten about or abandoned my “Hot Winter Nights” series that I posted a taster for on here a couple months ago.  It is currently under construction, but is taking far longer than I expected because once I started jotting down recollections and dialing up old memories from the period when I practically ate, slept and drank the original Comets in the late ‘80s/early ‘90s that I wound up with enough material to write a novel.  And as you know, I don’t like doing things half-assed on this blog, so instead of hurriedly slapping together a bunch of drive-by Comets/MISL posts, I’m piecing everything together into what I hope will be a comprehensive history of and tribute to my most beloved sports entity ever on earth in this hemisphere.  And the timing is perfect—with the advent of the new team, I’m kinda glad I waited now.  Stay tuned, boys and girls…

THE LAST STRIKE
I noticed a “For Sale” sign this week outside Laurel Lanes on 350 Hiway in Raytown, apparently another victim of the weak economy.  Located within about 200 yards of the house I grew up in, LL was an old-school 16-lane bowling alley, and I spent a small fortune in the place trying to become a pinball wizard in the mid-to-late ‘70s (the old Williams’ brand Klondike machine was my favorite—see pic) and another small fortune on video games in the early ‘80s.  Could I use some of that money today?  Sure, but I don’t give a fuck—I had fun back then!  Once a week during gym class in high school, everyone had to pile into a bus and ride to Laurel Lanes to bowl, even though the coaches never once taught any of us a damn thing about bowling—it was just a convenient opportunity for them to sit on their duffs and plot and scheme their game plans for that week’s football or basketball game.  We didn’t give a rip anyway—we’d rush through bowling so we could get over and play Donkey Kong before it was time to leave.  Laurel Lanes was one of two bowling establishments at any given time in Raytown, the others being Raytown Bowl, which crapped out in the late ‘80s and was more or less replaced by the big fancy Premier Bowling Center in the early ‘90s.  LL held its own against Premier for quite a while, but the place didn’t age particularly well and could no longer compete.  A moment of silence, please…

SPEAKING OF PINBALL WIZARDS…
I was delirious to find this little gem on YouTube last week—video of the short-lived 1975 game show “The Magnificent Marble Machine”, hosted by the late Art James.  I had always heard there was no video left in captivity of the show, but guess again!  The video quality here is poor, to be sure, but seeing this rascal once again is priceless to me.  I do have one criticism of the actual show, though:  they spent way too much time on the question-and-answer stuff, and not enough time on the blasted pinball machine!  I was also pleased find another Art James show on YouTube from the early ‘70s, “The Who, What or Where Game” (aka “3W”) that I hadn’t seen in almost 40 years, as well as long-forgotten game shows like “Jackpot” and “Split Second” and several compilations of game show bloopers and goofs from the ‘60s, ‘70s and ‘80s.  Excellent way to time-travel!

DING DONG, THE BITCH IS GONE!/DING DONG, THE ASSHOLE’S GONE!
Tuesday was a banner day in my little world as two of my most-reviled media personalities were disconnected from their jobs.  Radio quack Dr. Laura (Schlessinger) announced she was ending her syndicated talk show in the wake of her big n-word FUBAR last week.  This woman has absolutely no credibility with me, especially when she starts talking smack about honoring your parents—the woman didn’t speak to her own mother for the last 20 years of her life.  Her poor mother died alone (on welfare) and her body wasn’t even found for nearly four months!  "Dr." Laura's degree is in Physiology, NOT pyschology, and for all her moralizing, this is the same woman who cheated on two of her husbands, posed nude for photos, had an abortion (to save her own life, yes, but it still counts in my book) and claimed she was an only child, even though she has a sister named Cindy, and yet she has nerve to judge other people?  Pathetic.  I’m not naïve enough to think Dr. Laura is going away for good, but at least she’s no longer littering American airwaves with her psychological tripe.

Meanwhile, mega-ego self-promoting sports columnist Jason Whitlock is no longer employed by the Kansas City Star.  It’s not clear whether the Flatulent One left of his own volition or if he was given the heave, but I’m delighted that he’ll no longer be embarrassing our fair city with his pompous bombast, hypocrisy and race-bating.  My hunch is it got to the point where the paper just plain couldn’t afford his exorbitant salary anymore.  Either that, or he ran off and eloped with Jeff George (or Drew Bledsoe).  And like Dr. Laura, Whitlock ain’t disappearing from view—he’s all over the Internet on various sports outlets anyway.

EXPLAIN THIS ONE, LITTLE BUDDY!
Was thinking about “Gilligan’s Island” the other day for particular reason and wondered why their theme song says they landed on an “unchartered DESERT isle”.  Looked more like a jungle with a beach to me—the weren’t no desert to be found there.  I loved that show when I was a kid, but I find it almost unwatchable now.  Oh, and for the record, I prefer Ginger over Mary Ann, only because I’m such a sucker for redheads.  I wouldn’t kick Mary Ann out of bed, either, tho, and I’ve heard Dawn Wells is a real nice lady in real life.  Tina Louise?  That’s a whole ‘nother story…

FOR A GOOD TIME, CALL MAGIC CHEF!
The number for the customer service line listed in the instructions for various Magic Chef appliances is 1-800-553-4355.  Unless they’ve branched out into the vibrator business, that ain’t what you get when you call this number!

I’M IN THE WRONG BUSINESS
Was out the other night wandering around at the Cabela’s outdoorsman/hunter’s paradise store the other night and got a chuckle out of what they’re asking for goose decoys—$100!  And that was a sale price—they normally go for $120.  A hundred bucks for a fake goose?!?  Shit, the real ones ain’t even worth that much, are they?  Sounds like a racket to me…

THE HOTTEST BAND(S) IN THE WORLD
I thought this was kinda cool.  When juxtaposing The Beatles and Kiss, however, I think John should be Gene and Paul should be Paul, based on their personalities, with John and Gene being the outspoken cynical ones and the two Pauls being the hopeless romantics.  Then again, the artist may have simply been going by the instruments each band member played/plays.












LEMMY RULES!
“How come he’s got those two Cocoa Puffs stuck to his cheek?”—Beavis, 1994

"Hello--yeah, it's been a while...Not much, how 'bout you?"

WHAT I DID ON MY SUMMER VACATION…
“On the first day of my summer vacation, I woke up.  Then I went downtown…to look for a job.  Then I hung out in front of the drugstore.  The second day of my summer vacation, I woke up…”—excerpt from Cheech & Chong’s “Sister Mary Elephant”, 1972

Okay, this wasn’t a vacation per se, nor did things go quite like that, but unfortunately this blog has been a casualty during this long hot summer, as I’ve been sidetracked with other projects and obligations the last couple months that have severely limited my time.  This coincided with a creative dry spell and some personal reflection/introspection regarding my father’s passing and his negative impact on my life (which I may delve into in a future post), hence the lack of activity here.  I toyed with the idea of discontinuing my blog altogether, especially given the dearth of offerings from some of my other favorite bloggers, which seriously makes me wonder if the whole blogging thing has perhaps run its course and become passé.  However, being the narcissist that I am, I went back and read a few of my past blog entries, and absolutely loved some of the stuff I had written before, so I’ve decided to continue on after all.  You might also notice I’ve gone back and cleaned up some past entries that featured multiple photographs.  Blogspot calls their publisher a “WYSIWYG” (What You See Is What You Get), but whenever I use it, it makes me feel (in the words of Mr. Anderson on “Beavis & Butt-Head”), “like a one-legged cat trying to bury turds on a frozen pond.”  I have a new 23” computer monitor—which was like going from a Sony Watchman to a JumboTron—and now that I’m on the same picture resolution as everyone else, I’m able to realign stuff the way it should be, so things should look a lot cleaner on here from now on.

THE HOLLANDS DON’T LIVE HERE ANYMORE…
After 51 years on Overton Avenue in Raytown, that statement is now true, as we got my mother moved out of our longtime family abode this past weekend and into her new living quarters, a duplex in the John Knox Village retirement community in Lee’s Summit.  Among other things, Mom’s new place features a garage door opener than actually works, a patio deck that even I’m envious of and—best of all—central air, a “luxury” my old man refused to install in our house.  Dad always complained that he “got too cold” so easily in a/c, but it had more to do with penny-pinching and not wanting to raise his electric bill, and with this brutal stretch of hot weather we’re having, I’m relieved to have Mom out of that blast furnace she was living in.  About the only issue I have with JKV is why do they expect their residents—all of whom are elderly—to walk all the way to their curbs to pick up their mail?  I'm not real enamored with the idea of Mom slip-sliding away across her icy driveway in January just to fetch her latest copy of Better Homes & Gardens.  As for the old homestead, unfortunately its future is deep in doubt, as the place is a shambles, thanks to its ever-crumbling foundation, out-dated amenities and general lack of upkeep by my parental units these last 20 years or so—I don’t think the “Extreme Makeover” people would even touch this wreck.  We may end up just bulldozing the place and selling the lot for whatever we can get for it.

INDUSTRIAL-STRENGTH GAGA EVEN REMOVES CACA!
Lady GaGa was in town performing in concert at the Sprint Center last week.  This prompted them possum’s peckers from Topeka, the Rev. Fred Phelps’ Westboro Baptist “Church”, to show up and do their usual bigoted anti-gay protesting across the street.  But this time they were ambushed by several gays and drag queens (some dressed like Gaga herself) who upstaged the Phelpsians and beat them at their own damn game, and even succeeded where most everyone else before them has failed—the gays managed to run the fuckers off!  I wish to hell I’d been there to witness all this in person—one of these days I’m going to drop in on one of these protests and stick my middle fingers right in their collective faces.  If and when Katy Perry ever comes to town, I’ll be ready—she does that song “I Kissed A Girl (And I Liked It)”, which I’m sure the Phelpsians just adore.  I might even attend the concert itself—KP’s kinda hot…

THAT CONFOUNDED BRIDGE
Work was finally completed last week on the 63rd Street bridge in Raytown, which spans the old defunct railroad that hasn’t been used since the Disco era.  The bridge closure caused a bit of inconvenience for motorists for a few months because 63rd St. is the main east-west artery in the heart of Raytown, but all is well now.  However, this didn’t stop some jagoff on a Facebook page devoted to Raytown from causing a bit of an uproar by declaring that the only reason they replaced the bridge at all was so they could get rid of the makeshift memorial on it for the unfortunate Raytown High School student who was murdered a couple years ago, whose body was later found beneath the bridge.  Uhhh, I don’t think so, Tim!  I have concrete (pun intended) visual evidence to the contrary in this photo that I snapped about three years ago showing the crumbling edifice, which had deteriorated even further since then and was rapidly becoming dangerous, not to mention a major eyesore.  The damn thing was almost 40 years old and in horrid condition—this had nothing to do with removing a memorial, butt-munch!

Why do people make such ignorant statements on the Internet?  I always thought it took a certain amount of smarts to be able to work a personal computer, yet somehow, these dolts who’d make Forrest Gump seem like a Rhodes Scholar somehow manage to get on-line and yammer away anyhow.  It amazes me no end how there always seems to be one horse’s ass (or more) in seemingly every forum/message board/chat room on the ‘net who is hellbent on instigating pissing matches and antagonizing everyone with excrement like this for no good reason.  Doesn’t matter what the topic or realm of the message board/forum is, either—it could be anything from politics to breast cancer to baseball stadiums to fly-fishing to nose hair—there’s always some palooka out there (usually hiding behind some cutesy screen-name) mangling up what might otherwise be an intelligent or thought-provoking discussion.  I haven’t been hard-up enough to visit any nose hair message boards yet, but assuming one actually exists out there, you can bet some douche is on it stirring the pot!  Damn shame…

REST IN PEACE, DR. DOUG
I saw by the paper the other day that my favorite professor from my UMKC days, Dr. Doug Moore (at right in this photo), passed away recently.  Evidently he’d been in poor health for a while now and died in hospice in early July.  “Dr. Doug” was a very nice man, not to mention a funny one, and he was a walking almanac of American film history, everything from the silent era to modern times.  His classes were easily the most enjoyable that I ever attended, and he would screen such landmark flicks as D.W. Griffith’s The Birth of A Nation as well as fun stuff like the work of Charlie Chaplin, Buster Keaton and Harold Lloyd and classics like It Happened One Night.  And thanks to Dr. Doug, I discovered what cute babes the Gish sisters (Lillian and Dorothy) were back in the day!

I also took a class Dr. Doug taught called “Writing For The Media” from which I gained beaucoup knowledge about the elements of editorial style, much of which I’ve put to use here on the blog—if he only knew what he’d spawned!  Ironically, one assignment in that course was to create a TV show featuring a local celebrity with a format that hadn’t been done before and write the script for it.  I struggled for the longest time to come up with anything, then the light finally went on in my head—why not hit Dr. Doug right where he lives?  Since he was a film critic and movie buff in general, why not create a local version of Siskel And Ebert’s “At The Movies”?  I inserted local radio legend/TV personality Dick Wilson as the host of my fictional show and had him reviewing Runaway starring Tom Selleck and Gene Simmons, and my little hunk of ingenuity netted me an A, as I recall.  And being the good Kiss fan that I am, I had Dick give Gene high marks for his performance as the villain, while ripping on Selleck a bit for being too predictable as the good-guy cop (which is true, really).  Ironically, Dr. Doug himself later did movie reviews on local TV newscasts in the late ‘80s and ‘90s.

In Siskel & Ebert parlance, I give the man two big thumbs-up.  So long, Dr. Doug—ya done good!

CLASSIC MISHEARD LYRIC #124
“Saturday Night’s Alright For Fighting”—ELTON JOHN (1973)  “My sister looks cute in her braces and boots…”  Not misheard, but rather misinterpreted this time, as I was only nine when the song came out and unaware that “braces” is the Brit term for stocking garters.  I thought the braces Elton sang about were the ones orthodontists put on one’s teeth, which made me wonder, “What’s so cute about that?”  While I’m at it, what the hell’s so cute about that “handful of grease in her hair”?  Who wants some chick who looks like The Fonz?  Still and all, SNAFF is one of my all-time favorite songs.

SURELY THEY JEST
It was announced this week that they plan to erect a statue of Major League Baseball commissioner Bud Selig outside Milwaukee’s Miller Park.  This clown is to baseball what Urkel was to network television, thus what on earth has this ineffectual boob done to garner this kind of honor?  I hope the statue includes a couple hypodermic needles at his feet to symbolize the steroid era he’s presided over.  In the words of Stewie Griffin, “This is a worse idea than a leper colony doing the Hokey-Pokey!”

PLAYOFFS?!?  WHADDYA MEAN PLAYOFFS?!?
Calm down, Coach Mora and listen to me!  The Swami in me sez the Kansas City Chefs will break even this season and go at least 8-8.  I base this prediction on the offseason moves they made to improve the offense, as well as the fairly soft schedule K.C. plays this year.  I see them going 4-2 vs. the AFC West, sweeping Oakland and splitting with Denver and San Diego.  The Chargers are notoriously slow starters anyway, so I have a good feeling about that opening Monday Night game against them at Arrowhead.  The AFC West plays the NFC Worst/West this season, so K.C. should be able to slam the Rams and Seahawks, even though both those game are on the road. I’m also not completely sold on the 49ers or Cardinals being all that good this year, so El Chiefos might even steal a win or two at home with them.  There are some other very beatable opponents on the sked, especially Cleveland and Buffalo and maybe even Houston or Jacksonville.  The only three games I don’t see the Chefs having a hope in hell at all of winning this year are all on the road—at San Diego, Denver and Indianapolis.  And if everything falls into place, it’s even conceivable that this team could go 10-6 and make a run at the playoffs and give me cause to once again refer to them as the Chiefs instead of the Chefs.  We shall see…

PHYSICIANS HEAL THYSELVES?
Get a load of one of our regular ordering physician’s names at my workplace:  Dr. Ursick!  We also have a Dr. Killen in our midst.  These guys make messers. Seuss, Pepper and Demento seem almost credible by comparison!

RANDOM DEEP THOUGHTS
—I kinda like Morningwood (the band) these days.  Oh, and the other kind is most enjoyable too...
—In this great country of ours, I freely exercise my right to bare arms.  I only wish all these tattooed women I keep meeting these days felt the same way…
—There’s a local seafood outfit here in K.C. called the Seattle Fish Company, whose motto is “If it swims, we have it.”  Is it safe to assume that the Kansas City Beef Company in Seattle’s motto is, “If it shits, we have it”?

I’M WAY TOO SEXY FOR MY SHIRT…
I received the following unsolicited spam-o-gram the other day on Facebook from some alleged “chick”:  “I was searching through profiles and came across your’s (sic) and i’ve gotta tell u that you’re insanely sexy.”

Here’s the profile photo I had up at the time she wrote to me…





My official response:  “Bork you!”