Everything is a cartoon nowadays...

(First off, apologies to everyone who had to deal with me tonight. I am in an inordinately pissy mood right now. For those of you who were lucky enough not to have to interact with me, I am having one of those moments where even I wish I didn’t know me. Luckily, I got to walk home in the rain and that helped. One of my favorite Buddhist phrases is “There is nothing you must say, there is nothing you must do, there is nothing you must think, there is nothing you must know. However, it is useful to remember that fire is hot and rain makes things wet.” Tonight I needed to be reminded that rain makes things wet.)

(I’d write about what’s on my mind but even I can’t figure it out anymore. My entire mental construct is stuck in a corner. All I’ve ever done my entire life is search for the correct answer and I’ve found myself in situations where there are none. And it is really difficult to dump logic overboard when that is what brought you this far.)

Anyway, last set of pictures. One is of Judd, Rosemary, Rudolfo and myself at the Backer. I’m still not quite sure how we got four MBAs in one place at the same time. Well, the place was easy. As I told someone, if anyone I knew was in town I was certain that they would stop by the Backer. Next picture is of Rosemary, myself and Donna, my favorite bartender in all the world. Seriously, when I become Mark Cuban rich I’ll just hire Donna to be my personal bartender just so we can hang out all the time. Finally, one picture of the Grotto because a) I’m amazed at how well it came out and b) that is something you just don’t get at any other school.

On a less serious note, I read this week about what has to be the best movie tie-in promotion ever. In order to promote the Simpsons Movie they are going to take a handful of 7-11s and turn them into Kwik-E-Marts. I’m not kidding, they plan on changing all of the displays to resemble the home of Apu. Including selling Buzz Cola, Krusty-o’s and Squishies. Tell me, is there anyone reading this who wouldn’t make an effort to shop at a Kwik-E-Mart? I’m willing to drive a couple of hours just to check this out. I can pretty much guarantee that they are going to make a mint out of this.

In other movie news, they still won’t reveal what Megatron is going to transform into other than it won’t be a gun. The official reason is that it would be like Darth Vader transforming into a light saber as someone else would have to hold it. I just think they are scared of selling toy guns and the producers don’t have any problems with ruining the memories of my youth. It ruins the entire character of Megatron. He’s so bad ass he just transforms into a gun to kill you as opposed to that wussy Optimus Prime who turns into a gas guzzling sixteen wheeler that slowly uses up the planets natural resources, increases the greenhouse gasses and eventually results in the melting of the ice caps. Or at least that is how I interpreted it.

Oh well, that’s it for me. One quarter of the year done. When I figure out what I accomplished in those months I’ll let you know. Trust me, I have so much on my mind right now I need to prioritize what life altering issues I should address first. Which makes those tasks like buying groceries become that much more difficult. Have a fun weekend.

All hail the Funk!

Tonight’s pictures: For those of you wondering what my view of the world was on many a night this one pretty much sums it up. I was always amazed when I watched Donna and Joey close up the tabs at the end of the night since the cash register seems to have been made fifty years ago and watching that thing print out the end record was always a wonder to behold. Especially after a few too many shots. Plus, you can see the televisions that always distracted me when Erik and I would have our father-son discussions (which always seemed to devolve into a conversation about music.) I’m sorry but bright lights and motion always get my attention.

Plus, since I walked by them I figured that I would take a picture of the trophy case with the seven Heisman trophies. That’s not something you see everyday. Especially not on the Illinois campus where we still talk about how great Jeff George was.

Ok, on to business. I would like to take a moment and officially recognize that the reign of Funk is at hand! Yes, thanks to my tireless efforts the mothership has landed in Kansas City and Mark Funkhouser has been elected mayor. No, I’m not kidding. It’s the same guy I wrote about a few months ago and came up with campaign slogans for that just happened to show up in his advertisements. The one who started inviting me to press events. Even after I wrote that he “looks vaguely like Rasputin” and “always seems to be auditioning for the role of third zombie in the next Dawn of the Dead remake.” It is entirely possible that I a) influenced the politics of a mid-major American city and b) might be named vice mayor as a result. I deserve an easy politico job out of this to say the least.

But wow, the Funkster has been elected. I’ll have to say that this will make reading the news much more enjoyable. Can you read the words “Mayor Funkhouser” and not smile? Plus, if he can actually do what he wants to focus on he might actually be a good mayor. He has big plans like fixing the sewer system so that a) the streets don’t flood every time it rains and b) the water mains no longer burst, thus flooding the streets every time it doesn’t rain. Or fixing the potholes that seem to swallow up entire cars. Or dealing with a mass transit system that I’m not sure technically exists. It’ll be some interesting times, that’s for sure.

(And please can we have P Funk for the inaugural ball? That dude in the diaper should definitely play Hail to the Mayor or The Train from Kansas City or whatever the hell the official song is.)

Also, in a case of target marketing gone berserk Ticketmaster made sure that I was the first person to know that I can get tickets to see Morrisey play in KC. I’m not sure that this is a good thing. For the record, I’ve never been a Morrisey/Smiths fan though seemingly everyone I hung out with was. But there is something intriguing about going to see a show from someone who lost relevancy once I left high school. Plus, what is it like at one of his shows anyway? Do we all just hang out and get collectively bummed? Except now that we are old and bummed? It’s like you’ll have an entire crowd in their mid-thirties going “Aw man, this reminds me of being back in high school and being depressed and being picked on by jocks and having no one understand me. Man those were the days.”

Finally, I have a link to pass on thanks to my good friends at deadspin.com. One of the great things about college basketball is that the season ends with the greatest montage in sports; the playing of One Shining Moment. As cheesy as it may sound, this one song always gets to me. This one site has decided to collect all of the clips in one handy link. Plus, I think he goes back far enough for the awesome Teddy Pendergrass version. If you have time to kill (and don’t mind getting choked up as you watch your favorite team lose in the title game) these are incredible. The link is http://tmastc.blogspot.com/2007/03/one-shining-moment.html

Relying on the safety valve

Today’s pictures: For those who wonder where I spent most of 2001-2003, these two pictures pretty much sum it up. One is the corner of the Backer that we occupied for a vast majority of business school. Actually, we probably occupied every single corner of that bar, this is just the one that I have a picture of. And somehow, despite all the damage I did to myself during those two years, I can tell you about events that happened in that very spot. The other picture is of the Doermer Center, now with a sign. I’m pretty sure that wasn’t there when we were students. I’m surprised that there is any need to indicate precisely where the Doermer is. As I said after one particularly harrowing Security Analysis project, you can pretty much find it by the scent of fear and desperation.

Oh, and also it isn’t springtime unless there are ducks swimming on the grass in the Main Quad. In typical EC style, I got in on Thursday when the weather was beautiful but waited until Friday to walk the campus. A day that was cloudy and rainy and at one point had so much fog that I couldn’t see Mendoza from the JACC. Looks like the weather hasn’t changed.

It is strange the sense of nostalgia that hit me while I walked through Mendoza. I understand feeling nostalgic when I went back to my high school last year. There I was reliving memories from half a lifetime ago, back when I was a know-it-all kid. Here I was, looking back at a place I was a few years ago as an adult and going, “That’s where my mailbox used to be! And there’s my old locker!” like a complete idiot. I wouldn’t do that in an old office. I don’t long for any of my old cubicles. Maybe that just shows how different a world business school was for me.

On to the current state of my life, which probably still needs some additional discussion. I’ll grant you that I am lazy. As someone who has stated that his dream job is to sit on his couch and watch ESPN Classic all day that is a perfectly fair adjective to use about my lifestyle. But that’s not the real reason behind my reluctance to do what my heart is telling me to do. The real reason is that I’m scared to death that I might fail.

I’ve always found it interesting that most people view me as successful when in reality all I’ve ever done is put myself in situations where I couldn’t fail. I did it in college when I decided to be an electrical engineer instead of following my dream of being a writer. Even though EE is insanely difficult I knew that at the end of the day it is just math and I could figure it out. But writing, that was something that I could do my very best at and have a professor look at my work, shake his head, and go “Have you ever thought about being an accountant?” And I couldn’t risk that level of failure. My work at the electric company (not the PBS one) was another case where I found a role where my ability to see patterns and having a photographic memory were the two biggest keys to success. I’ve always taken the path where, while it may be difficult, I knew that I would succeed.

(And yes, I know that this is at the heart of why I am so god awful at relationships. I really have trouble with situations where I can fail without even doing anything wrong. Equations are much simpler, if a hell of a lot less enjoyable.)

So that is how I’ve found myself in my current predicament. I’m leading a perfectly comfortable and blessed, though unsatisfying, life. And I’m not sure how to handle this without making huge changes to my life. I still like what I do for a living and there are very few jobs I know of where I can learn something every day while getting to spend the day listening to Arcade Fire songs. But at the end of the day I don’t know if it means I’ll have any legacy (and I still can’t answer Renee’s age-old question of whether or not work is bringing me closer to a state of grace.) The good news is that everything that I have done up to now has put me in a position where I can do pretty much anything that I would want to. I just have to find the courage to face the unknown.

Same old popcorn machine...

So, as the above pictures show, I was back in South Bend this weekend. (Thanks to Rodolfo for the pictures, by the way). One is of course my homing beacon, otherwise known as the sign for the Backer. The other is of myself standing where once they start putting up memorial plaques documenting my life a rather large historical marker will be placed. Possibly the only one in existence that would begin with the phrase “Dude, you will never believe this…”

(As I told someone over the weekend, it’s tough for me to discuss my last semester of business school in polite company because ninety percent of my stories begin with “So we were hanging out at the Backer…”)

(Oh, despite what Rodolfo claimed, I am not wearing the exact same shirt I wore four years ago. It is just more of a bluish-green than the blue polo I used to wear. Otherwise, it really is just me with new glasses and a couple more pounds. Also, for those of you who were wondering, see, here is actual proof that I occasionally do smile.)

Anyway, the reason I was in town is that the MBA program held a conference on leadership and I decided to attend for a variety of reasons. First off, I was intrigued by the speakers and the conference. I’ll write about them later this week but let’s just say that they really made you think about just what your potential really is. But the main reason is that I just wanted to get back to South Bend. I hadn’t been in town for a year and a half and I needed to see if being back there would add some perspective to my life.

Of course, perspective meant a trip to the Backer pretty much immediately upon arrival. I did attend the reception for the conference but must admit that as the ND Glee Club walked in I walked out, acting as if I had just received a phone call. That let me walk into the backer and see the Rodolfo and Judd were already there. Donna was behind the bar and greeted me with a hug and a beer, which means that I am still a regular at a bar in a town I haven’t lived in for years. A few minutes later Rosemary walked in the door and we had a mini-reunion on our hands. It was one of those classic Backer nights where it feels like no one is there but everyone who is there I knew. It really felt the same way as it did four years ago.

And it definitely did when I had one of the strangest déjà vu experiences of my life. We had all just sat down at the bar, in our usual seats, and were ordering drinks and burgers and joking around. From my seat I could watch the door and was thinking that this is really like old times. Especially when five minutes later the dude who always came to the Backer to sit down at the end of the bar with something to read came in. Does anyone other than me remember this dude? He was kind of like my dopplegager. About my height with glasses but with dark, wavy hair? Thanks to Joey I remembered that his name is Cordell and I swear this guy was there whenever I was at a bar in South Bend. And he always had something to read. A newspaper, some printouts from the web, there was always something in his hands. Seeing him was like walking into a time warp. I was scared to death about who else might walk through that door.

It really was great to just hang out at the bar and talk with friends and watch the ball games. Even though I hadn’t seen any of them for more than a year we immediately fell into our old positions and made the same jokes we always made. When I think about business school I don’t think about the classes or what I learned, I remember the moments of just hanging out with the brightest and most interesting people that I have ever known. Getting to have that moment again was worth the airfare, even if it was only for one night.

(Oh, and for those who need details. Backer is basically the same though they now have some flat screen televisions. Also, they changed the trivia machine to the type I hate where you have to bet points. I mean, “Dr. Wang” still has the high score but I liked the old school machine better. I should have just bought it from them when I had the chance. I‘ll post more pictures from my trip throughout the week.)

(Also, thanks for all of the comments on yesterday’s post. I have thought about teaching and have always wanted to work for a school or a non-profit at some point in my career. I just don’t know a) how to go about it and b) if I could deal with the pay cut. Which is sad in so many ways. What has been getting me is that a few months ago I asked myself “Am I wasting my life?” and my answer was “Probably.” And you don’t sleep too well after having that exchange.)

A need to ponder

(Frivolity before seriousness. I’d like everyone to look again at my post from 3/13 where I correctly predict all four of the final four. You know, just so all of you who are in last place in your office pool will know that the answer was in front of you the entire time. That said, I’m still not even going to win the pool I am in. Wisconsin and Memphis killed me by alternately sucking and playing well. Now on to the serious part.)

There has been a question that has been weighing on my mind a lot over the past few weeks and I’ve tried to write about it a few times but all of the attempts made me look like a sniveling kid. But some events over the weekend raised the questions again and I have to write about it if only because I think better when I’m typing. And it’s a simple question, “What am I doing with my life?”

I know, existential angst is nothing new but this has really been troubling me recently. I keep on looking at my life and saying “Is this it?” Like there are a few gaping holes in my life right now that need to be fixed. The strange thing, it’s not as if my life sucks. I’m pretty much successful by all of the conventional measures and live a life of tawdry amusements at reasonable prices. But deep in my heart I know that something is wrong and that is what I have to answer to every night. And it has led to a number of restless nights.

(In a strange way, I wonder if my situation would be easier if I was a complete screw up. At least a drug addict has something to blame. I tend to say things like “I’m just too smart for society” or “I make the mistake of paying attention”. So I end up blaming invisible forces without putting on the tinfoil hat.)

So I’ve been wondering a lot about what I am doing with my life and whether or not I am wasting my life. And that has to give you pause. Especially when you find yourself in your early thirties and discover that you are not technically an adult. I’ve avoided obtaining the wife and kids, the house in the suburbs and a closet filled with twelve pairs of identical Dockers. All I have is hair that is slowly turning gray. And while I used to look at the situation as one where I have a lot of time sitting in front of me now I’m not as sure.

The reason I’ve been thinking about this over the weekend is that I spent some time back at Notre Dame attending a conference on leadership. Sitting there listening to speakers who impressed me beyond belief all I could think about is how passion is so integral to being a leader and I wasn’t sure where my passion lied anymore. Or even when the last time I felt passionate about anything. Probably last summer when I was in Nola. And just being at ND makes you feel like not as much that you can change the world but that you should change the world. That it is your duty to do something bigger than yourself.

So that’s what is running through my head right now. What can I do that is bigger than myself? Am I on the right path for my life? What pieces are missing from the person that I want to be? The questions that you ask yourself when you are sitting in the dark with music softly playing in the background. And for one of the few times in my life, I don’t know the answers.

(Rest of the ND and Backer stories tomorrow. So, I guess it will be frivolity then seriousness then frivolity again. But it was nice to be back in the Bend for a while. Feels like home.)

The five random CDs for the week (another incredible mix):
1) Jack Ingram “Live From Wherever You Are”
2) Cowboy Mouth “Mercyland”
3) Neko Case “The Tigers Have Spoken”
4) The Frames “Fitzcarraldo”
5) Glen Hansard and Markeeta Irglova “The Swell Season”

And I used punch cards...

(It’s Springtime! I mean, officially this time. We’ve been having good high school baseball weather here for the past week or two so I feel like we’ve already entered the new season. Just always nice to know that you made it through another winter.)

I am a regular reader of Men’s Health magazine. That probably comes as a shock to most people. Especially given that I look as if I have never seen a gym in my life. That is not true, though I definitely need to get back into my workout routine. And it definitely helped me lose the fifteen pounds of fat I shouldn’t have been carrying. Anyway, they published a stat in this month’s magazine that was very telling.

They ranked each city by the quality of drivers and Kansas City basically came in last. They received a failing grade while the Twin Cities received an A. That makes sense since to drive in Minnesota means you have to be able to handle snow and you just become a better driver as a result. (New York City also got an A, though I have a feeling that is because a) no one drives and b) those who do drive can’t exceed fifteen miles an hour so it is tough to get into a bad accident.) But it is kind of fitting to see KC being given a failing grade. I’ve never quite seen a city where people completely lose their ability to drive whenever the weather changes and even when it is nice out you can be cut off by a sixteen wheeler like I was today.

(Oh, and I just missed getting pulled over by the cops this morning. Have to appreciate 8 AM speed traps.)

Geek note: I have to mention the passing of someone who had a great influence on my life. The guy who invented Fortran (I think his name was Backus) passed away this week. For those of you who weren’t around prior to Windows, Fortran was a programming language and one of the first ones that I learned. It’s also the one that I am most proficient in, which because the best version was written in 1966 is quite possibly the least marketable skill that I have acquired in my life. I’ve been able to pass off my addiction to reality shows as “being attuned to pop culture” in job interviews. Knowing Fortran just means that I am old.

It was a great language to use though. Define your variables upfront, set up a ton of procedures, and write nested if-then statements to your hearts content. For someone like me (who was an effective but horribly inefficient programmer) it was powerful stuff. So, even though no one uses it anymore, there are a lot of us old computer guys who are going to pour out a forty in memory of the man who wrote the original code.

(Hey, computer geeks can be gangster)

One last note. As you can tell, I’ve been really struggling for topics this week. When I have entire posts about America’s Next Top Model, a show that really doesn’t need my in depth analysis, it basically means that I can’t think of anything even moderately interesting to write about. I do have a couple of pieces that I want to write but most of those are for the book, which I really, really need to work on. All of this is just a long way of saying that I am going to take tomorrow off from the blog. I figure that I am due one day off a quarter from my usual routine. I’ll be back on schedule next week with hopefully a refreshed mind. See you then.

I feel so unwanted....

I have some rather distressing news to report. It has definitely set my world all atwitter. Went to a concert at Davey’s tonight and ran into my stalker. And her boyfriend. Yes, my stalker has now gotten a boyfriend. Man, you wouldn’t believe how depressed this makes me feel.

I mean, talk about rejection. For years it’s just been the two of us fighting to be the one directly in front of the stage at every show. Never talking, just silently jockeying for position and her seething glares at me when I inch in front of her and ruin her view because she was a good six inches shorter than me. Her deciding to use the camera flash to momentarily blind me and regain the prime space. I’m not kidding at about half the shows that I’ve attended over the past three years the two of us were always there and always at the front. And now she is hanging out with some dude. Like stalking me isn’t a better option?

Yeah, you can pretty much state that your life has taken a turn for the worse when even your stalker moves on.

What else to talk about… I made the mistake of actually flipping through the channel guide while on VH-1 this evening. I think they are legally required to show an hour of videos at four in the morning but otherwise it is all reality shows, all the time. And even for me, reality junkie that I am, it is a little ridiculous. Mainly because they aren’t even very good shows. I mean, I’m a wrestling fan and I don’t want to watch a show about Hulk Hogan and his kids. At least not unless it involves a cage match. And clip shows of the best celebrity embarrassments just seems to be a little overboard. Plus, I can’t believe that they were able to make only a one hour show out of my beloved Lindsay. You’d think that would be it’s own mini-series.

But the big thing that VH-1 is doing now is showing full seasons of America’s Next Top Model in one day. And in terms of shows that get your attention, it certainly fit’s the bill. Because I stumble across this and end up watching for hours. You certainly can’t fault the premise: pretty nineteen year old girls in skimpy clothing competing for “fame” and “fortune”. Except that none of the girls have actually become a top model. Hell, Adrianne (the winner of season one) is best known for marrying Christopher Knight from The Brady Bunch. Basically, I can’t see top fashion studios deciding the new face for their product line based on a game show.

And that fact makes the show itself very twisted. Because not only is there only one girl who will be the “winner” but half the girls have absolutely no chance of making it. They’re too short, too fat, too thin and in one case in Australia’s Next Top Model, too busty. Yes, the show critiques a girl because she has curves that make every guy drool. On top of that, they have them compete in challenges that are more parodies of a model’s existence than actual tests. It’s as if they are playing dress-up as a model. What makes the show interesting is that every season a few girls are smart enough to see that this is a charade and basically play it off as a lark. Two things happen then a) they get eliminated and b) they actually get signed to real modeling careers (Elyse the pre-med student from Season One who was achingly beautiful, intelligent and funny.) So, the show is basically Tyra Banks screwing with girls’ emotions while we all watch. Welcome to the future of entertainment. We all get our fifteen minutes of fame if you are willing to endure a few hours of humiliation.

Forgotten Television Shows: Volume Twelve

A quick update on Tawdry Amusements at Respectable Prices: Still haven’t, you know, started to do any actual writing but by compiling up a lot of my old posts and creative writing exercises I am up to over 30,000 words. Of course, this includes several pieces that I wrote in high school and my one good short story from college (which I don’t think that I’ve posted in any legitimate form). Given that I am nowhere near finished in terms of gathering up all my old writings it does seem that I have a legitimate book on my hands. Maybe not the best book, but a book nonetheless.

And, since I haven’t done one of these in a while…

Forgotten Television Shows: Volume Twelve

Typically, when I write about a Forgotten Television Show I am really writing about a popular show that has been pushed aside from society’s conscious memory or at least is no longer in reruns. Cheers is not a Forgotten Television Show while Night Court is. Tonight is going to be a little different. Tonight I am going to talk about a show that almost no one watched and didn’t even last a full season because it was too damn smart.

It’s Like, You Know…

First off, this is a real show. It was on ABC in the late 90’s and starred Chris Eigeman, Jennifer Grey and that girl from My So-Called Life who wasn’t Claire Danes. It was about an upper class New Yorker (Eigeman, who was required by law to only play New York preppies and is in three quarters of my favorite films of the nineties) who moves out to California to write a book about how horrible and selfish and plastic California is. So your main character’s motivation is that he is intentionally having a bad time.

Of course, he gets sucked into the California culture. Spending an afternoon watching high-speed chases and keeping score. Falling for the flighty My So-Called Life chick (Ali something). And meeting Jennifer Grey, played by Jennifer Grey. In the only reason why this show should not be forgotten.

In what is possibly the first attempt to portray meta-fiction in a three camera sitcom, the fictional character of Dirty Dancing star and nose job victim Jennifer Grey was portrayed by Jennifer Grey. She was playing herself except that it wasn’t her. She wasn’t neighbors with a writer and a dude who was broadcasting jewish religious ceremonies on pay-per-view. All they had in common was that both had danced with Patrick Swayze and had rhinoplasty that was so successful that she became completely unrecognizable. It was just bizarre as you couldn’t tell if this was a real person who found themselves in a sitcom or the imaginary life of a person you haven’t met but vaguely know.

And let’s face it, that is the show that we most want to see. We want to see how celebrities really live. And not big celebrities. Watching Tom Cruise sleep on a bed of money while forbidding Katie to talk wouldn’t make interesting television. We want to see the people who used to be famous go about their daily lives. There is a familiarity in their past fame and viewers would line up to watch them buy groceries or do laundry. We don’t want to watch the famous succeed, we want to follow their struggles with the most normal tasks.

It’s Like, You Know did that for a few episodes. And people didn’t get the joke. You can’t find it on DVD. I might have an episode on a slowly degrading VHS tape somewhere. But at one point in time there was a show that talked about fame from the other side of the mirror.

The not so lucky Irish

Definitely not one of my better NCAA tournaments. All of my teams lost in the first round in heartbreaking fashion. Duke choked away the game against VCU, Illinois had Va. Tech beat and then somehow decided to not play for the last six months and, in all honesty, I dozed off while watching the Notre Dame game only to wake up to discover that ND was down twenty and I was now watching the Wisconsin game. ND came back and actually took the lead but ran out of steam and lost to Winthrop. My bracket is pretty much destroyed and my days of winning tournament pools seem to be far in the past. On the plus side, I’ve gained a lot more free time over the next few weeks.

(Oh well, at least Notre Dame picked up a number one seed in the hockey tournament. And, if I heard correctly, they are playing a team from Alabama in the first round, which is odd because I can’t imagine anyone in the entire state playing hockey.)

On the free time comment, I did realize something that might turn into the biggest conflict ever. I have tickets to see Guster in Lawrence on April 2nd. That just happens to be the night of the championship game, something that I didn’t notice when I bought the tickets. But depending on whose playing I could see myself catching a concert over watching the game. However, there is a measurable probability that KU will be in the title game. This would cause an interesting predicament. First off, I can’t imagine that there would be anyone at the concert. Lawrence has a bunch of art kids who don’t care about sports but given that this would be an excellent excuse to party I don’t think that they would miss it to watch Guster. Also, in this scenario I would be going to a show in the middle of the campus of a team in a title game, which is basically just asking to place yourself in the middle of a riot. It’ll be interesting to see how things turn out.

I did go out for St. Patrick’s Day and it was actually a rather uneventful night. I didn’t see a single arrest, though I did hear a bunch of sirens during the night so there probably were a couple. You didn’t get a violent vibe from the crowd, though. Everyone seemed to be calm and having a good time. I spent most of the afternoon at Harry’s where knowing all the staff made getting served much easier. The patio there is a great place to experience Westport on St. Pat’s as you can just sit back and watch everyone else be idiots. And cheer the guy who set up a stand that said “Magic” on it. Yes, a guy was doing card tricks for extremely drunk people. That has to be the easiest gig in the world. “Is this the card you chose?” “I chose a card? Woo hoo!”

Headed over to the Record Bar in the evening where I did get a compliment on my Backer t-shirt from a St. Mary’s alum. There is something that must be said about a bar that even when your hundreds of miles away people go, “Oh my god, did you drink there?” Having the t-shirt makes you a rock star in the drunkard world. Went there mainly to see a U2 cover band, which is interesting given that I probably wouldn’t go see U2 if they were playing a few blocks away. (At least not until Bono offers me a personal apology.)

They were a surprisingly good cover band. They learned quickly to make up for their lack of talent with volume. The lead singer wore sunglasses and looked like my buddy Fortino making him look almost, but not entirely, unlike Bono. The rest of the band looked like a bunch of guys from an IT department but sounded good even if they made no effort to resemble the band. Plus, they included a cover of “Electric Co.”, a song that even U2 doesn’t bother to play anymore. Some nights I’m not looking for music that will change my view of the world. Sometimes I just want to hear songs I know with large amounts of alcohol present.

All in all, not a bad St. Patrick’s Day. An improvement over past years in that I didn’t end the night with a girl crying in my arms, which did happen a few years ago. I might be the only one to remember this though it isn’t something you easily forget. There are very few moments when you are trying to simultaneously a) figure out what the hell is this girl’s problem, b) comfort her, c) explain to your buddies in pantomime what is going on and d) drink a beer. And definitely not in that order.

The five random CDs for the week (and man, what a good list):
1) R.E.M. “Dead Letter Office”
2) Uncle Tupelo “No Depression”
3) Martin Zellar “Born Under”
4) Kelly Willis “Kelly Willis”
5) Ryan Adams “Love is Hell, Part One”

Screw Jason Kidd and California

Virginia Commonwealth? We lost to freaking Virginia Commonwealth? A school whose mascot is…does anyone even know what their mascot is? Do they even have one? This is a sad day for a Duke fan. I didn’t expect much from this team. Definitely not a national championship. But I thought that we’d at least get past the first round. Oh, and I also thought that with seconds left in a tie game that Scheyer would, you know, guard the guy with the ball as opposed to letting him take an open jumper in the lane.

I should look at the positives here. My calendar for Saturday just opened up a lot so I’ll be able to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day whenever the hell I want. That is important as I expect things to be pretty insane. I talked to Jamie (one of my favorite bartenders) this week and we joked about how much she is dreading St. Patrick’s Day. While it’s a profitable day behind the bar it’s also busy and insane. This year is going to be worse. Not only do you have the regular St. Pat’s revelers but it’s also a Saturday and the weather is nice. I’ll be amongst the crowd, though mainly to put in my field reports discussing the number of arrests I see in front of me.

(True story, one year I saw the cops just tackle this guy who was walking in front of me. As I see them go to cuff them me and this guy next to me both start muttering “Use the taser. Come on, use the taser.” No matter how old I get, my life still resembles a Beavis and Butthead episode.)

(Other fun story from Jamie. While talking to her these other girls at the bar asked if I ever went to any of the other bars in the area. I said no because it’s Martini Corner and I’m not a martini type of guy, which caused Jamie to start laughing as she went, “Yeah, I don’t know how to make a martini out of beer.” I am at the point where even if I ordered something different the bartenders would still serve me my usual. I’m no longer allowed to change.)

Not much else to add this evening. The office was dead quiet as a lot of people took the day off and I’m taking tomorrow off so that I can watch basketball, get some work done on my car and make yet another attempt to reorganize my life. Oh, and I really should get started on my book. I haven’t started it, thus making that April 15th deadline pretty much unreachable. I’m still going to do the project, it’s just that the timeline has shifted. I have finished cataloguing all of the old posts and I’ve realized that a) none of my posts are ever about one thing, b) when in doubt I always break out Star Wars analogies and c) I think I’ve written more words about Britney than I have my beloved Lindsay. It’s that last point that bothers me.

Have a great weekend, enjoy St. Pat’s Day safely, and Go Irish (and Illini).

Subscription to the past

You wouldn’t believe how tempted I am right now to just list the first ten thousand digits of pi. It would be simultaneously cool, dorky, and a horrible waste of internet resources. But I don’t think I could remember that many anymore. And it is incredibly dorky. But still, what type of world would we live in if we couldn’t celebrate our favorite irrational number?

Also, I would like to give a very warm thank you to the U.S. Post Office this evening as they finally decided to deliver my copy of Sports Illustrated from two weeks ago. This is the second time this year that a magazine that I have received every Thursday for more than two decades has been late by more than a week. Add to that the fact that I had to go to the post office to pick up my package from Amazon (even though it would have fit in the mailbox) and I have to admit that the Post Office is quickly becoming the most cost effective delivery method ever. In a “we’ll just stop delivering your mail and when we do get it we’ll make you pick it up yourself” sort of way. It’s just insane. (And not in the membrane.)

(Great, now I’m going to be singing “Insane in the membrane, insane in the brain” for the rest of the night.)

Yes, I am still a Sports Illustrated subscriber. I’m not sure exactly why, other than I may possibly have signed up on a lifetime subscription plan a few years ago and now cannot cancel my subscription. I’ve been reading it (and officially subscribing to it) since I was nine years old. At the time, my older brothers thought that it would be really funny if they listed my name on the form, since I was just a little kid who was also a sports addict. When I then received mail from Playboy where they offered me a subscription as well as a key to the Playboy Club, it went from funny to the most awesome thing ever.

(I’m not making that up. Right before they closed the Playboy Club in Chicago I was offered the chance to be the youngest member ever. Somehow I think my life would be much different if I could have convinced my mom that that would be a good thing.)

Anyway, there really isn’t much of a purpose to reading SI anymore. I know the scores and highlights of every game from ESPN. I get in depth analysis from the web and all of the funny stories I need from Deadspin. SI is really anachronistic. You don’t need to read about games that happened a week ago or previews for games a few days away. But I still haven’t gotten rid of the subscription and, to be honest, I’m not planning on it.

And I think that it is mainly nostalgia. I read SI because I read it as a kid and it has always been a constant in my life. Every Thursday (post office stupidity notwithstanding) I could sit down and read about sports. Some good articles, some funny articles but always something to hold my attention for a few minutes. Now I read it less for the information and more for the connection to my past. That reading it will always allow me to remember the kid who had a stack of issues next to his bed. And a couple bucks a year seems to be a perfectly fine price for that.

Time for March Mental Deficiencies...

Time to go over my picks for the NCAA tournament. As always, remember that filling out a bracket is done for entertainment purposes only and is never associated with wagers of any kind. Especially in years when you can’t write Duke into the championship game and be assured of at least getting third place.

East Region: North Carolina is the number one seed and features Tyler Hansborough in a Jason mask courtesy of the fact that he smashed his face into Gerald Henderson’s perfectly harmless elbow. They’ll make the Sweet Sixteen but lose to Texas because a) Kevin Durant is insane and b) the game will be a mental checkers match between Rick Barnes and Roy Williams so pick the team with the guy who will just win the game one on five. You’ve got a great sleeper team in Oral Roberts. They already have beaten Kansas at Allen Fieldhouse and feature a 900 foot Jesus in the low post and that is really tough to defend against. (Sorry, I meant that they had MC 900 ft. Jesus. My mistake.) Washington State is horribly overrated and is going to choke big time so write Georgetown into the Final Four. They’re a good squad, they play a maddening type of offense that you can’t prepare for in a day and in the eighties they had Michael Jackson playing in their backcourt. And man, does that last bit read a lot dirtier than I intended it to.

Midwest Region: Notre Dame got kind of hosed with a six seed as well as being forced to play a tough Winthrop squad. I just have a good feeling about this, though, so I see a Sweet Sixteen run as they will beat Oregon because, come on, they’re the Ducks. Who the hell is afraid of a Duck? I picked Wisconsin through the Elite Eight and I have to say that I hate that pick. They looked horrible in the Big Ten tournament, are without their center, and play the most boring style of basketball imaginable. But, I hate UNLV and there is no one else in that bracket who can really compare with them. In the other half, Old Dominion will be your twelve seed that wins a game. And Florida, led by that tub of lard Billy Donnovan, will just run through this entire region without breaking a sweat.

South Region: Memphis is the only team I’ve ever known to be a two seed without ever appearing on television. I know nothing about them other than Calipari is still coaching them so that means a second round loss to Nevada. I’m tempted to pick the Albany Great Danes over Virginia solely based on a description of their mascot as looking like “a wife beating Scooby Doo.” Not going to happen and I hope Tennessee loses in the first round because it is Bruce Pearl’s fault that I had to deal with four years of horrible basketball at Illinois. Thanks for putting us on probation, asshole. It’s because of you I had to sit through the T. J. Wheeler era. Anyway, Ohio State is going to smoke this region. Pay attention to Mike Conley Jr., their freshman point guard. He is the son of the Olympic triple jump gold medalist and a member of the Conley clan, who ruled Luther South athletics. They were in our conference in high school and were without a doubt the best athletes I have seen in my life.

West Region: I’d love to pick Illinois in an upset but it just isn’t going to happen. I’m just happy that they are in the brackets. Duke shouldn’t be a six seed, they really should be an eight or a nine. Still, I’ll take them to win in the first round and lose in the second marking the first time that I do not have them going to the final four in…in…I think nine years? Yeesh, and in all that time they’ve only won one championship. I’d be more optimistic but I think Paulus has turned the ball over three times already. Gonzaga will win in the first round but lose in the second as the shrooms wear off. Southern Illinois will make the Sweet 16 based on the fact that a Saluki is an Egyptian guard dog and that has to count for something. In the end it’s going to be UCLA over Kansas because Bill Self will never a win a game that matters. Or take off his toupee. Or admit that he is a worthless traitor who shouldn’t be allowed to coach again after the way he left the Illini. Not that I’m bitter or anything.

Final Four: Pretty easy as we’ll get an Ohio State-Florida matchup in the championship game. And here I am forced to make a tough decision. See, back in college one of my good friends was this guy named Pat Bradshaw. And we were both looking at grad schools and at one poin the had decided to go to Ohio State and I had decided to go to Florida. I changed my mind and he didn’t and for a few years we joked about our respective teams as I celebrated a Florida national championship in football and he got one in football. So, that should make this easy, right?

Except that I hate Billy Donovan. I hated him when he was a fat shooting guard at Providence. I hated him when he was a fat assistant coach at Kentucky. And I hate him now that he is a fat head coach at Florida. He runs a dirty program with dirty players who specialize in hard fouls and cheap shots. Just ask Mateen Cleaves who probably could have filed battery charges against Teddy Dupuy in the championship game a few years back. I can’t stand the guy. So I’m going for Ohio State to return the title to the Big Ten.

Time...thought I made friends with time

Good news in that things improved today and my life is no longer in the state of epic disaster that it had been teetering on for the past couple of days. Everything should now be under control and I expect that my anxiety levels will return to normal in a few days. Of course, normal anxiety for me is “freaked out beyond all belief” for everyone else. This weekend my anxiety level was at the “afraid to leave the house because the second I get past the doorway I might die” stage, which is about as much fun as it sounds. Yeah, that sound you just heard was my therapist celebrating the fact that she’ll get to buy a new car this year.

But, since things have gotten under control I was able to turn tonight into a celebration night as I did conquer most of my anxieties. That means dinner of gumbo and crawfish etoufee, which always makes the world a nicer place. And then an evening spent playing Playstation and switching between wrestling and Australia’s Next Top Model, typically staying with the latter. They got rid of the model with the eating disorder this week. I’m pulling for Sam even though her runway walk was described as “looking like a pole dancer’s.” Like I’ve said before, I think reality television exists solely to destroy the self-esteem of nineteen year old girls.

Since I’m kind of short on topics I figure that I might as well do my time change rant now. They moved the time change up three weeks this year, which meant that I was driving to work in the dark. The time change is always a rather bizarre event because the entire country suffers from jet lag for a few days. There is a legitimate reason for daylight savings time and then there is the one politician’s claim. The claim is that we do this for energy savings. That by shifting the clocks ahead an hour people will use less light bulbs and less electricity and the world becomes a nicer place. That is, in fact, complete and utter bullshit.

The real reason is pure economics. Give people an extra hour of sunlight in the evening and they are much more likely to have a weekday barbecue. Or try to fit in nine holes of golf after work. Or go to Home Depot and get cracking on that home repair project. Or even do what I did today, take advantage of the warm weather and see if I can hit a restaurant while it’s light out. The idea isn’t that we’ll spend less money on electricity. It’s that we’ll spend much more money on everything else in our lives.

I also have to tell the story as to why, up until last year, Indiana did not follow Daylight Savings Time. This is the true story of the logic behind the Indiana State Legislature, a body that at one point was one vote away from legislating the value of pi to be equal to three in order to make things easier to calculate. (And yes, remember that Wednesday is Pi Day and an official Battling the Current holiday. Ask your boss to let you out of work on religious grounds.) Anyway, the reason they didn’t move the clocks forward is that it confuses the cows.

It’s not as silly as it sounds. Assume you’re a cow. Not something you do every day but stay with me here. You have no idea of a clock but you understand cycles and you know that at a specific point every day you will be milked. Now suddenly have that switched by an hour because the farmer has to make sure everything is on the same train as before and has to operate on the train’s schedule. Obviously, this is very disconcerting to your little cow universe to have the man in overalls and a funny hat showing up an hour earlier while you were pleasantly asleep. Hence, very upset cows. And in Indiana, upset cows have great pull amongst the legislature.

To be honest, having spent a few years living in Indiana, I’m pretty sure cows are allowed to vote.

No fun at all

Ugh, have you ever had one of those weekends where everything seemed to go wrong? And even simple things, like making dinner, become disasters of epic proportions? Yeah, this is one of those weekends. I don’t want to talk about it. I just want to take some aspirin, crawl under the covers, and try to make the rest of the world disappear for a while.

(What’s worse is that while I had a great idea for a post I am no longer in the mood to write it. Given that it was a bit self-loathing it means that I’ve reached a point where I’m too tired to bitch. Either my mood will brighten or you’ll read what I mean in a few days.)

The good news from the weekend is that Duke, Notre Dame and Illinois all made the tournament. None of the teams have good seeds and people were arguing that the Drexel Dragons should have made the tournament over my Illini but all I care about is that my teams are in the tournament. I’ll at least get a chance to watch their games this week and maybe, just maybe, one of them will pull an upset and play next week as well. I’ll do my full tournament preview later this week.

Strange note while catching parts of The Winner: One of the paintings that they showed as an example of bad hotel art is one that I have hanging in my apartment. Yeah, my print of Jackson Square looking through Café du Monde made Fox this evening as an example of what you would find in an Albany hotel room sometime in 1994. Yeah, I’m not very happy about that. I’m really proud of what I have hanging in my apartment and except for the people who complain about the preponderance of Julie Delpy movie posters I’ve received compliments on my taste. Now I have to start questioning everything. The show still bounces between really funny, really annoying and vaguely stupid.

Oh, and Rob and Amber were eliminated from The Amazing Race: All Stars. I’m probably the only person who actually cheers for Rob and Amber. Sure they’ve been on every reality show ever but they are tough competitors and they make for interesting television. Plus, Rob played hockey with a buddy of mine from Boston when they were both kids so he is the closest connection to a reality tv star that I’ve got. I mean, until that casting director calls me back for America’s Next Top Dungeon Master. I really think that my unique interpretation on the d20 system along with my crypt design should really make me a top competitor on that show.

(Yeah, I’ve gone from hiding my geekiness to accepting it to now trying to profit from it.)

That’s it for tonight. Hopefully things will be better tomorrow. Can’t get much worse.

The five random CDs for the week:
1) Emmylou Harris “Wrecking Ball”
2) Urge Overkill “Saturation”
3) Gomez “Out West”
4) Charlie Parker “Charlie Parker Plays Standards”
5) Marshall Crenshaw “I’ve Suffered For My Art, Now It’s Your Turn”

Down Under Beauty

(Time to cover what is left on the Post-It notes that litter my laptop detailing all of my possible blog topics. At some point I’ll just start carrying a notebook around with me at all times to capture these ideas. Though pulling out pen and paper in a bar to record all of the witty bon mots probably won’t be viewed in a positive manner.)

I didn’t mention this earlier in the week but there was a story from one of the London papers that Britney went bonkers in rehab, claiming to be the anti-christ and trying to kill herself. While this is wholly unconfirmed and I certainly don’t want her to kill herself I think we should definitely take this anti-christ claim seriously. Hell, every music fan has been saying that for nearly a decade.

My VH-1 addiction is well documented. And until they finally grant me a talking head spot on Best Week Ever it will just have to be a viewer relationship. While shows like Surreal Life, Celebrity Fit Club and Hogan Knows Best all keep me entertained they have a new show that is going on the Tivo “Must Record, Never Delete, Create Additional Backup Copies” list. They are broadcasting the American premiere of “Australia’s Next Top Model.” It’s the same as America’s Next Top Model except with much cooler accents. I’m not sure if you can go wrong with a group of beautiful women wearing skimpy clothing and talking in incredibly attractive accents for an hour. It’s like the best show idea ever.

And to show the level of drama in this show the first elimination involved one model who was upbeat and enthusiastic but was not very tall going against one who the judges were notably concerned that she may have an eating disorder. Who gets sent away? The short girl. Under the logic that you could always just feed the anorexic girl a sandwich but couldn’t get the other girl to grow. It was just cruel, as the judges went “We love everything about your personality and you’re beautiful but unless you are willing to wear stilts we have to let you go.” I’m not sure if this is a competition or just a weekly hour of watching a teenager getting her dreams smashed right before your eyes.

Speaking of Australian models, I finally watched The Last Kiss this weekend. (Wow, I wrote a segue. Not sure if I’ve ever done that before.) It stars Zach Braff (the dude with the eyebrows from Scrubs) and Jacinda from Real World: London (the only Real Worlder to actually become a successful actress.) I was a bit under whelmed by the film. I heard a lot of talk that it was an extension of Garden State, showing similar characters as they are turning thirty. I see that but there is this small problem that it isn’t a very good film.

The set up is pretty simple. Zach and Jacinda are not married but expecting and Zach meets a cute girl at a wedding and ends up going out with her. Jacinda finds out and they fight for the rest of the movie until they see a ray of forgiveness open up. I just have a lot of problems with the film. First, who the hell would be dumb enough to screw up a relationship with Jacinda. You would expect the Zach character to be celebrating how lucky he is. Then there are all the friends who are all having really stereotypical early mid-life crisis. But my main problem is that they took a very real concept (being afraid that you are becoming an adult without any of the tools to be successful in that role) and never really did anything with it or sold the premise that these characters are scared. Zach didn’t look scared, he looked like a complete asshole. The fear of being adult is a great one, it’s one of the main themes of my hypothetical novel, and it really needs to be better expressed in film.

Ok, last bit for the week. I use a Peanuts Day Planner (pretty much proving that I have the emotional maturity of a twelve year old) and this was the cartoon for the week. And I find it really fitting as I have been spending a rather unhealthy amount of time the past few weeks thinking about lost loves. Partly this is because I am working on a few essays that deal with how relationships end and the aftermaths and the curse of being a nice guy. But mainly it is because the weather is getting nicer and anniversaries that only I remember are coming up and it is the sort of thing that makes me long wistfully for moments that never occurred. Somehow, this explains it all.

Peppermint Patty: “I’m worried about you, Chuck”
Charlie Brown: “About me?”
Peppermint Patty: “Yes, I’m worried that you’re living too much in the past…you haven’t seen that little red-haired girl for over a year, and yet you keep talking about her.”
Charlie Brown: “Maybe I’m living in the future…maybe that’s what we call ‘hope’… or maybe I’m just too wishy-washy to forget her…”
Peppermint Patty: “I don’t know Chuck…I just hate to see you always living in the past…of course, I’d hate to see you only living in the future, too… Maybe, as they always say, the truth lies somewhere in-between..”
Charlie Brown: “The truth is just as wishy-washy as I am!”

Have a great weekend. Go Illini.

Lost another one of my idols...

This is going to be a tough post to write. I should hang black banners on my blog or something. I mean, how in the world am I supposed to write when Captain America has been murdered? They shot him down like a dog on the courthouse steps. What type of world do we live in where even Captain America is dead?

(Sorry if I spoiled the ending for anyone who has been reading the Civil War series. But yes, Marvel has decided to kill off Captain America. It’s still not clear what they mean. They may have just killed Steve Rogers and someone else will take up the costume. They may use the typical Dr. Doom “He’s not really dead” storyline. Or maybe they are serious and, much like Bucky Barnes, Cap is no longer with us. I, along with the rest of the Avengers, are officially in mourning.)

Ok, a few more thoughts on last night’s post. I’m not kidding when I say that record stores rely on my business to stay afloat. When I left for B-school the independent record store I shopped at weekly went under in less than six months. I really think that I had something to do with that. And even though I do most of my shopping at either Streetside or Border’s I don’t consider them to be a godless, bloodsucking corporate machine. I mean, they are, but Border’s has a rather nice selection and the people who work at Streetside are cool. That’s why I don’t entirely fault them for doing this promotion to make a few dollars, just as long as they admit that it is a crass marketing stunt. Ticketmaster, on the other hand, uses my fees to purchase gold plated toilet seats and when the revolution comes I swear I will be manning the firing lines when we put those bastards up against the wall.

Looking at it (and some Soundscan data that I have) it really looks like it had to be a platinum selling disc to even be mentioned. That would take out The Postal Service and Death Cab for Cutie, even though both of those discs would make the cut of influential discs of the past ten years. It’s great that they included “Way to Blue” on there but that is based more on sales than on awesomeness. I’m more surprised that only one R.E.M. disc (and one Radiohead disc) made the cut. Both are popular bands with large catalogues and you’d think they would merit inclusion over every Led Zepplin disc.

There is one other ranking that I will have to give them credit for. Beastie Boys “Licensed to Ill” came in at 31 and that is a fair ranking. Remember that when “You’ve got to fight” came out everyone took them to be one hit wonders. Vanilla Ice before anyone had heard of Rob Van Winkle. The fact that they had a long and impressive career astounds me. Especially given the rumors that all of the band members had died of cocaine overdoses in 1987. Though if we are giving late 80’s rap groups some love could we include a Fat Boys record? Or at least give a special mention to Disorderlies for being the best film starring a rap band ever?

Anyway, I need to talk about the Glen Kotche show on Monday night. Glen is the drummer for Wilco and this was the last date of his solo tour before he joins back up with the band. And this was a solo show by the drummer. That’s as odd to write as it is to see. An hour long drum solo does not sound like the most exciting thing in the world to me. But he did something at this show that makes it the early leader for “Weirdest set of the year” and tops The Ditty Bops bringing out a guy on stilts for the weirdest concert moment that I have ever seen.

We’re about halfway through the set, which was really good. He used a couple looping tracks at time to give a bit of melody but he mainly used a tricked out drum kit to keep things interesting. Then he introduced this track called the Balianese Monkey War Chant. Which was based on a Hindu myth involving several gods who spoke using various strange attachments to his kit. (One I think was one of those metal springs that used to be attached to my dorm room lamp). He starts playing and hitting cymbals and looping some of the noise. Then he gets up and turns to this folding table that is behind him.

He lifts this blanket off the table and you see that there are about forty small boxes on the table. About the size of a Matchbox car. He turns on this miniature flashlight and begins to lift the lid on each box and shines the light into the box. As he does this, you begin to hear chirping sounds. Yes, Glen Kotche played a drum solo while being accompanied by a table filled with crickets. Forty some crickets chirping into the overhead mike.

It was the damndest thing that I’ve ever seen in a concert.

He really used the crickets as a musical instrument. They provided the background vocals for his solo and served as a counter voice for all of these characters that he invented with his drum kit. I’m not sure how he did this, or how the crickets didn’t immediately jump around the stage or if this is the strangest rider request ever. All I know is that it was bizarre but it worked. You felt that you were in Bali trapped in the midst of a Hindu myth. And pulling that off when in reality you are standing in a bar in a strip mall in Kansas City is one hell of an accomplishment.

Avril Lavigne should never make a Top 200 list of anything, including people named Avril

I’m a self-professed music geek. If you need proof look no further than the fact that I’ve spent the past two Monday nights watching the side projects of one of my favorite bands. It made sense when I saw Autumn Defense since that is basically the harmony section of Wilco. Last night I saw Glen Kotche’s solo act. Glen is the drummer. And when I say solo it was just him on stage. I watched his hour set, and, well, I’m not even sure if I can explain it. I will tomorrow, because I came across this today and I really need to rant. First, here is the link

http://www.rockhall.com/pressroom/definitive-200

The idea is that this is the definitive list of the top 200 albums of all time. As decided by the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and NARM (the association of music retailers). That should be your first warning sign right there. The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame is basically a sham put together by Rolling Stone so that they can pat themselves on the back once a year and the association of music retailers don’t give a damn about quality as long as the disc sells. In fact, this entire list is basically a promotion for the retailers to sell a lot of back catalog releases. (It’s very intelligent marketing given that the average age of a CD purchaser is in the 30’s.) But that still is no excuse for putting together a “Definitive” list of great albums and producing this piece of crap.

Let’s walk through the 200, shall we?

Number one is Sgt. Pepper’s and I can live with that. Pink Floyd’s “Dark Side of the Moon” comes in second and that is a bit odd. I’ve never heard it listed in the best album ever discussion and I think that the only reason it still sells is because the latest editions come complete with their own bong and a DVD of The Wizard of Oz. I hate Led Zeppelin and Led Zeppelin IV but other people feel passionately about songs about hobbits. But otherwise, the top 10 is pretty sensible though disordered.

The first “What the hell” moment is Santana’s “Supernatural” at 13. I don’t know anyone who would consider this to be a classic album. This was during the period when they’d grab whoever was the pop star of the moment and have them record with Carlos for the day, often without telling Carlos who this person is. Still not as bad as the 19-20-21 triumverate of the worst music ever recorded. Yes, according to the definitive list you must own The Doors “The Doors”, The Grateful Dead “American Beauty” and Shania Twain “Come On Over.”

If you own any of those albums I cannot be friends with you. I’m not even sure if I want you reading my blog (though don’t tell my advertisers that). The Doors are the most overrated band in the history of the planet. The Grateful Dead are considered influential because they gave people an excuse to get high for decades. And Shania Twain has two talents and they are neither singing nor dancing. You can’t take this list seriously with that mix.

It gets worse, if you could imagine. The Clash’s “London Calling”, which makes every top ten list including those for best polka albums of all time, charts in at 96. Just ahead of Celine Dion. Yes, the high point of punk rock is considered to be about as significant as a forgettable Celine Dion disc. And look at who comes in ahead of the only band that matters. The Grease Soundtrack (#37). Jewel “Pieces of You” (#64). Linkin Park “Hybrid Theory” (#84). Matchbox Twenty “They don’t even deserve me looking up their album title” (# 91). That is just horrible. No rational human being would ever say Matchbox Twenty is better than The Clash. Unless they are just focused on album sales.

And that’s what this list is, just a rather crass attempt to boost the back catalog. It’s not a listing of great albums. It’s a listing of extremely popular albums from the past thirty years that you probably haven’t listened to in a while. Hell, probably a few that you still have lying around on cassette and wouldn’t it be great to add these classics to your CD collection. I don’t fault record stores for trying to boost sales (lord knows they can’t survive on just me buying CDs.) But don’t try to pass this off as some critically selected greatest artistic moments of all time.

Just look at what recent albums aren’t on the list. The two most ambitious discs of the past two
years (Sufjan Stevens’ “Illinois” and Arcade Fire’s “Funeral”) are nowhere to be seen. Can’t find Wilco’s “Yankee Hotel Foxtrot” even though it was on every best of list in 2001 and 2002. And even R.E.M.’s “Murmur”, the album that launched a thousand rock bands and the entire college rock movement, doesn’t make the cut. Yet Live’s “Throwing Copper” and album that a) wouldn’t exist without R.E.M. and b) contains the only song I know of with the word “placenta” in the lyrics is deemed to be one of the best ever.

One of the pieces that I’m going to place in “Tawdry Amusements at Respectable Prices” (which I recently realized is a total rip off of a Guided By Voices album title) will be the 40 discs that you don’t own but should. It’s nice that the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame wants people to buy yet another Boston disc. I’d rather encourage people to buy something that they would want to listen to.

In fairness though, here are the albums on the list that I do own:
U2: The Joshua Tree
Pearl Jam: Ten
U2: Achtung Baby
Dave Matthews Band: Crash (which isn’t even the best DMB disc. That would be Under the Table and Dreaming. Crash is where you realize that all Dave is singing about is essentially “Please sleep with me. Please?” And then he adds in sad puppy dog eyes. Admittedly, it is the same technique used by every guy at a DMB concert.)
Coldplay: A Rush of Blood to the Head
R.E.M.: Automatic for the People
Paul Simon: Graceland (#83 my ass)
The Clash: London Calling
Tom Petty: Full Moon Fever
The Police: Synchronicity
O Brother Where Art Thou Soundtrack (Ok, cool that this got included)
Sarah McLachlan: Surfacing (Again, not even the best album by the artist. Surfacing was uneven and incredibly short. It can’t touch Fumbling Towards Ecstasy. Possession (a song written about a guy who was stalking Sarah) is one of the best songs from the mid 90’s)
Sheryl Crow: Tuesday Night Music Club (I don’t even like admitting that I own this, much less recommend that anyone else pick it up)
Smashing Pumpkins: Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness (pick up Siamese Dream instead)

Jeez, even Adam Curry would have been acceptible

(I know a few people are wondering about why I didn’t talk about Duke-Carolina last night. There are two reasons. Reason #1: I finished my workout with a minute left in the game so I didn’t actually watch the last thirty seconds of the game. Reason #2: Honestly, if you had a chance to throw an elbow in Tyler Hansborough’s face wouldn’t you do so? I’d certainly swing away.)

After checking out some reactions online apparently I was the only person who found The Winner to be funny. I’m sorry, but I pretty much find any show about a 32 year old who lives with his parents to be incredibly funny. It worked with Get a Life and it works today. (Admittedly, I think I was the only person who liked Get a Life as well.) I’m not saying that it is the greatest show ever produced but it is at least better than According to Jim. Hell, anything is better than According to Jim.

Including the Geico Cavemen Variety Hour. Not sure if every caught this story but they are apparently filming a pilot about the lives of the Cavemen in those Geico commercials. The basis of the show is to follow how they adapt to life in Atlanta. I’m not sure how they chose Atlanta, other than they looked at a list of most populous cities in alphabetical order and lazily picked the first one. Who am I kidding, this is the laziest idea for a show ever. It’s going to be a complete rip-off of Unfrozen Caveman Lawyer. Plus, while those commercials are funny for thirty seconds I have no idea how you make that a funny bit for a 30 minute episode, much less an entire season. But, this just tells me that I really need to get working on that pilot of mine. I’m pretty sure that the jury duty episode would sell the entire series.

I’ll stay with this television theme and talk about something I really don’t want to admit that I watch: The Surreal Life Fame Games. Not quite sure why I’m hesitant to admit this, I’m pretty sure that my Voltron confession has proven to the world that I am now embracing my geekitude. Heck, I’m one step away from appearing on the Sci-Fi Channel’s “America’s Next Top Dungeon Master”. Anyway, this edition of The Surreal Life takes people from past shows (Vanilla Ice, Ron Jeremy, Verne Troyer, Pepa and Andrea the chick from Playboy who is rather cool for a Playboy model) and has them competing against each other for prizes. These people are serious, too. I think that since they are admitting embarrassment by being on the show they feel they might as well win.

Anyway, in this weeks episode each of the contestants had eight hours to see how many celebrities could return their phone calls. This had a couple of people pimping out their rolodex while someone like Verne really didn’t want to compete because he didn’t want to bug his friends (who just happen to be people like Busta Rhymes and Ludacris). At the end the winner was judged based on how popular their celebrities were. Your guest judge? Kennedy.

Yes, that Kennedy. The one from Alternative Nation. The one you despised from Alternative Nation. The one where you thought, “Well, she’s vaguely attractive but odds are she’s going to try to run me over in the parking lot.” Apparently, she still has a job in radio, is a professed pop culture expert (please, leave that to professionals like myself) and hosts her own reality talk show. You would think that over time she would have mellowed with age. Sadly, after watching her for five minutes I once again had that familiar feeling of wanting to smack her across the back of her head with a shovel.

Come on VH-1. Would it have killed you to hire Tabitha Soren for a day? Sure, she might not be a “pop culture expert” but at least I’d like to see her again.

Red Lion Rules

Tonight marks the official changeover as I have now placed Natalie in her new home on my rather crowded desk. If there seems to be an inordinate number of spelling errors this week (or just general crabbiness on my part) understand that I am trying to learn a new computer and operating system along with the fact that while I am a very fast typist, I break every typing rule known to man. Thus, changing the size of the keyboard actually screws up my typing. It is very, very annoying.

And I have to say that naming the new machine Natalie has been very fitting. Mainly because while she is beautiful there is absolutely nothing that I can do to please this machine. Seriously, every piece of software has resulted in a war between myself and Vista. I finally got the wireless mouse to work, I have nearly succeeded in getting Office to unlock (though I’m using Works right now) and my attempt to install wireless broadband has been met with derision. It’s pretty much how I’d expect a date with Natalie Portman to go. She’d insult me for my inability to pour a glass of water correctly while all I could is sit there, drool, and go “You’re purty.”

(On the other hand, Julie and I worked together like we were soul mates. She knew exactly what I wanted and would meet me halfway on all of my hare-brained schemes. Is it right to feel like you have given up on your best relationship ever when that relationship is with a computer? It’s not like I threw her away, I’m just using her to work on my book but still. I really feel guilty about this and that is probably something I shouldn’t admit in public.

I have a few stories from the weekend that I just need to share.

Story #1: While driving past a Sonic I saw that the billboard read “Get your jumbo popcorn chicken here.” That is a rather stunning sentence when you think about it. I know what every single word in that sentence means but when placed in that order they become completely meaningless. Is the popcorn jumbo? Is there such a thing as a jumbo chicken that was created as a part of some freak genetic engineering experiment gone wrong. Is that something that I would want to experience? And is the middle of Kansas the best place to experience it? This is what I think about as I drive around town.

Story #2: I know a lot of people wonder what I do on a Saturday night. There are a lot of stories that have gone on over the years about my wild life. Well, as I was sitting in front of the television on Saturday night, watching Voltron and placing my bank statements in chronological order, I realized that this is probably how everyone envisions my life to be. It’s like I’m a twelve year old. A very organized twelve year old.

Oh, and some notes on Voltron. First, in telling the myth about the invincible Voltron they probably shouldn’t mention how the witch (who was impersonating a Goddess) cursed Voltron and separated him into the five lions. That tends to take away from the whole “invincible” claim. Second, it’s nice to see how the characters repeat the plot in every scene. I know this is something you notice as an adult but come on, did we need all five characters making the same point? Third, was Pidge always such a whiny bitch? He annoys the hell out of me. I mean, so does Sven but at least I know he gets his in the end. Finally, I think the lasting popularity of this show can be placed solely on the shoulders of Princess Allura. The rather beautiful shoulders of Princess Allura. Hey, for a ten year old you take your beauty where you can find it.

Story #3: I did watch “The Winner”, the new show on Fox with Rob Corddry that is from the makers of Family Guy. It is looking to be a great show. Love the fact that for some reason they set it in 1994, which is just a bizarre touch. Rob is hilarious as always and the kid they have acting with him is carrying his weight as well. And let’s be honest, while How I Met Your Mother is how I envision my life to be I bet more than a few people would see similarities in this show. But hey, he does become the richest man in Buffalo so I’ve got that going for me. Anyway, great show worth checking out. (Plus, best Simpson’s episode in ages tonight. Loved the music in the dark Stanley scene.)

The five random CDs for the week:
1) Allison Moorer “The Hardest Part”
2) Gomez “Bring It On”
3) Tanya Donelly “Lovesongs for Underdogs”
4) Kelly Willis “Bang Bang”
5) Billy Pilgrim “Bloom”

Gen X in decline

(Book Update: Today marks the start of my compiling my first book, mainly a collection of the best of the blog. My progress today was pretty simple but impressive in that I came up with a new title for the book. I feel that “Tawdry Amusements at Respectable Prices” pretty much sums up my writings and my life in general.)

I’ve been meaning to write about this for the past week or so but haven’t had the chance. Last week marked what would have been Kurt Cobain’s 40th birthday. To celebrate that milestone, Courtney Love decided to sell the rights for a Nirvana song to a video game (and a baseball one at that). I saw a lot of differing reactions to this news from disgust to apathy but one really stood out. It was a claim that the only reason people care about Nirvana is because Cobain killed himself. Someone honestly wrote that if that had happened to Pearl Jam or Soundgarden or Alice in Chains they would be remembered while Nirvana would be forgotten.

To which I say that is the dumbest thing I have ever seen in print.

You can claim that there were better bands than Nirvana, musically speaking. And certainly early death cements a place in music history (a point people constantly raise to me when I go off about the brilliance of Jeff Buckley). But those two things do not negate the social impact of Nirvana. Other bands had lead singers die early (Blind Melon, Alice in Chains) but no one would get up in arms because they sold a song to EA Sports. But we do that for Nirvana because we, as the last bastions of Generation X, are protective of our memory.

Because it was during my first semester of college that Smells Like Teen Spirit hit the airwaves and I can tell you that there was no more important band in the alternative scene than Nirvana. Pearl Jam was probably more popular because they were more accessible. They didn’t break their instruments on every song and people could look at Eddie Vedder and go, “Oh, he’s sensitive”. Kurt would show up to interviews wearing a dress. But that was the way that the music scene was viewed when Kurt died. There was Nirvana and Pearl Jam and a whole bunch of bands in the “other” category.

And when he died it wasn’t a quick news story. People were in shock and disbelief. I can still tell you what I did that weekend. I had to go to the mall to get a Fotomat picture of myself for the GRE exam and while doing so I picked up a copy of Sarah McLachlan’s “Fumbling Towards Ecstasy”. I spent the night alternating between watching MTV’s coverage and studying for the exam and the next day I took the test and then drove to Chicago to attend a wedding. I remember those days better than I remember entire years. It wasn’t as if we were walking around campus as if a national tragedy had occurred. But I think it marked the moment when Generation X realized that its brief moment in the pop culture spotlight was ending.

Because Gen X was always going to be a blip on the pop culture radar screen. We’re too small demographically so it just isn’t profitable for the media companies to focus on us. Two years after Cobain’s death the Spice Girls were topping the charts. A few years later the invasion of Britneys and Christinas and Justins overtook the pop charts and those years of Alternative Nation on MTV were long past. And that’s why we remember Nirvana, because we can use their rise and fall as the benchmarks for an entire generation.

I can’t imagine what Kurt would be like at 40. He was definitely burning the flame at both ends. At best he would’ve done what Eddie Vedder accomplished, pull out of the spotlight by doing your own thing. It’s not that Pearl Jam has been making world changing music but they have stayed active and vibrant for the past decade. Maybe he just would have disappeared from the radar screen and performing the occasional college tour playing to kids who were listening to Barney when he was at his best (Kurt not Barney). But, as sad as it is to say, it is almost better to remember him as a flash of light than as a fading star. To see Kurt Cobain at 40 would just remind me of what I already know. That I’m growing older, that the world is slowly passing me by, and that if I want to change the world I have to stop talking and start acting.

(Side Note: For anyone wondering, this is my 600th post to the blog. I can’t believe that number or that I’ve been writing five nights a week for over two years. I’m going to keep this going until I hit 1,000 and then I’ll decide from there. But still, 600 nights of sitting down and typing out my thoughts. Who would have known…)