So, Michael Jackson died today. He was 50 years old, but his nose was only 8.
The news has been going crazy about it, as though nobody has ever died in the history of ever. NBC canceled their kinda-funny Thursday night lineup to switch to "All Michael, All The Time." CNN, knowing that nothing sells like death, ignored the death in Iran, Iraq and God knows what other country we couldn't identify on a map to go Whacko on Jacko. People were lining up outside UCLA Medical Center to get updates, or official word of his passing. CNN interviewed people on the streets of New York for their opinion. Some of the folks were crying. Newscasters did their best "grave, serious voice," the kind that Walter Cronkite used to save for the death of a President, or real honest-to-God Kings, not kings of pop.
Oh, yeah, Walter - I hope you'll rest in peace, by the way. It was reported that you were on Death's Door the other day. Some places reported that you were dead. Much like Abe Vigoda and that Monty Python skit, "I'm not dead yet." You were an inspiration to me during my budding television career, but more like in the whole "I probably shouldn't smoke while on camera" way than anything. Still, your grace and gravitas is sorely lacking in today's media. I miss it. We've been a little busy back here in the mortal coil to give you a proper send-off. Iran is squashing an uprising, using men with guns to shoot women with amazing cheekbones, haunting eyes, and more courage than the average man could ever imagine. The Republican Party is having a hell of a time keeping its collective zipper up, as two prominent GOP members got busted for cheating on their wives - one who railed against President Clinton for his adulterous tendencies, and the other who used tax money to go bang out some hot Latin love down in Argentina.
Fellow TV professional Ed McMahon died as well, a Korean War veteran, a beloved sidekick, and, in no small way, responsible for the viral video craze to catch on during the internet age. He and Dick Clark doled out bloopers during prime time, a predecessor to YouTube and all the DVD extra features we demand. 9 Washington D.C. citizens died in a horrific mass transit accident, and the repercussions of which has made the city you used to travel through a virtual blockade of slowed trains and slower cars. Former sex symbol Farrah Fawcett died today as well, succumbing to her years-long battle with cancer. And, on top of that, I think I read where some bomb went off in Iraq, killing another 50 or so folks. Nothing major, you know, when compared to a guy who kept a pet monkey, wore half as many gloves as society would demand, and had more face lifts than hit singles the past 20 years.
Let me get this straight - Gary Glitter writes a catchy tune, but he loves teenage Asian boys and their teenage Asian boy bits. He goes off to Vietnam to get a few for some sort of bizarre pre-teen sex/drugs/rock and roll/ thing and we can't listen to him anymore because he's a child molester. They stopped playing his big hit, "History of Rock and Roll Part I" - which you may know better as the "dot-da-da-daaa Hey! You Suck!" song. I get that. Child molesters are bad, at least, that's what Megan's Law told me.
BUT, Michael Jackson, who paid out MILLIONS of dollars to settle multiple child molestation cases, who had photographs of all sorts of nude children, and who damned near dropped his own son off a balcony a few years ago - *HE* is worth eulogizing??? Is it because, unlike Glitter, he had more than one Top 40 hit? He had almost as many Grammies as face lifts, but he's been around more kid privates than Pampers and been on more children than Osh Kosh B'Gosh, *HE'S* worth honoring? Crying in the street over? He's worth that?
Because that's what it comes to - celebrity. Michael Jackson was a child star. He was part of our lives way back before disco with the Jackson 5 and made a rock/urban hybrid sound on "Thriller" that only Prince (and ONLY Prince) could possibly emulate. (Linkin Park, take note of that. You've sold a lot of albums, but you still suck. Just a FYI for ya.) He did some acting - remember The Wiz? - and even turned his lesser-talented siblings into stars themselves, though Janet was legit in her own right, but LaToya, Tito, Jermaine, Randy, Reggie, Action, Pollack...sheesh. Really? REALLY? Really...?
Jackson became the King of Pop because nobody sold as many records as he did. Elvis, the Beatles, the Stones (Rolling and Roses), not even the amazing Garth Brooks/Chris Gaines combo, sold like MJ. He was a worldwide megastar. And, nobody became the poster boy for the excesses of wealth and trappings of fame like MJ. Neverland Ranch, Bubbles the Chimp, the obsession with the Elephant Man, the obsession with the Little Children - think about it - average folks who don't even care for Michael Jackson's music knew more about his personal life than almost any other celebrity. Who's the biggest star in the music world right now? Beyonce'? Miley Cyrus? The Jonas Brothers? Fergie? Bono? Bet you can't name their pets. Bet you can't identify the names of their houses. I'll wager you can't even guess who *their* necrophiliac crush is. The only person who has as identifiable questions would be the President - we know he lives in the White House. We know he recently adopted Bo, the First Dog, though, as far as we can tell, has yet to dig up the bones of JFK and put them in the Lincoln Bedroom.
But you could do all that and more with Michael Jackson. Hell, owning the remains of a dead man famous for his bizarre disfigurement wasn't even THE WEIRDEST thing Michael Jackson is known for!
Perhaps MJ's greatest feat was making people give a crap about him well-after he had so obviously lost his marbles. This manchild abused countless children, and yet was still free to roam the Earth. God knows how much therapy those children have had, and will need, just to even THINK about becoming normal. And, how much more they'll need after 10 hours of constant television coverage of their abuser, treating him as a deity.
All because of a couple of hit records.
Friday, June 26, 2009
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Update for the Five Of You Who Care :)
It's been a little while since I ego-blogged, so here's a lil' update about me:
1) Employment - I recently took a job as a contractor at the Heritage Foundation, a conservative think tank in Washington, D.C. I obviously didn't agree with everything they espoused politically, but I did enjoy working as an A/V, IT, and broadcasting support guy. They had so many events in their building - speeches, seminars, documentary showings, minglers - and it was nice to meet a few folks I've seen quoted in the news. While I'm not the little conservative I was 20 years ago - far from it, actually - I do strongly agree with their points on controlling the National Debt and cutting entitlement programs. I fortunately was not there long enough to get into a political discussion with anybody of import. As soon as they'd find out that I voted for a Democrat in 2008, I'd probably be shown the door.
Having said that, the job itself was great. My direct boss was quite a pill, however. I've never worked with somebody so...blatantly hard to work with. She was a nice enough person on her own, but so incredibly odd. For instance - she's a micromanager to the ultimate degree. She didn't think I was taking enough notes on my first day, and physically yanked the pen out from my hands and wrote the notes herself. I have never had anybody do that ever, and she did it four times my first two days. She also forbade chit-chat. No talking, just sit at your desk quietly until the phone rang. So, it was next to impossible to ask the other members of the team for advice. She gave me four different shifts my first week - it's nice to know when you're working before you're working. 8-5? 7-4? 10-8? (not a typo) Pick one, lady. On top of that, the guy who was responsible for training me didn't talk at all, and then gave me bad information every chance he could. Not cool. It was like he was deliberately sabotaging me.
Ultimately, though, my issues with the job were directly tied to the odd boss. I can't work in silence. I'm 36, not in the 3rd grade. I need human interaction. And, I need my pen to remain in my hand until I set it down of my own accord.
The contracting company was of little help, either. They were paying a straight by-the-hour rate. No benefits, no sick leave, no medical insurance, no nothing. Need time off? Lose a paycheck. Need a 401k? Get it yourself, slick. That they also did not disclose the true working hours were set at 37.5 hours, not 40. So, when we did the math at 40 hours, it was a substantial, yet doable pay cut from my previous job. Knock another 2.5 hours off per week, and it suddenly became too dear to handle. I gave my two week notice last week, and they let me go that Friday night.
Why would I leave so quickly? Can you say "Department of Health?" That's where I'm working on Tuesday, after Memorial Day. One of my older job applications came through, and they offered me the job while I was at Heritage. It's a great pay and benefit increase from Heritage, about what I made at the Pentagon, but with better health care. Awesome, I say. My new employer is AVI-SPL - much more professional than Chronos and with all sorts of great projects going on across the country.
Hopefully this one will work out for a while.
2) Projects - The great digitalization movement is in full effect. I've filled up one 500GB hard drive with tunes. All my CDs are getting dumped into iTunes' lossless format so I can store these discs away and never have to see them again. I'm going to back up the entire music collection on a 1TB drive and probably connect that to a wireless network device. Yes, I know I'm a geek. Bite me.
I'm also putting everything in bins. I have bins for my bins.
3) Personal - Um...I took myself out of the dating world while unemployed, and now I'm looking to get back into the world of being at least semi-social again. Went on a nice date last week with a woman to Oyamel. She's a funny one - great taste in music, fierce independent streak, killer hair. However, I promptly followed up our date by getting a sinus infection, and that took me out of commission the last week. Thanks, karma?
I went to see "Lying In State" in Hagerstown today. Erika played "Bubbles," a stripper/Senate candidate in this political spoof. First time I've seen her in about 9 months, I guess. She's a natural on stage. Makes me want to dust off the olde head shots and audition myself. Wonder how I'd do with nearly a decade between roles?
4) Food - The gang have moved www.dcfud.com over to a new server, and the page looks good. Now that I'm employed, I'll be dining out more, and should be able to write about something.
5) Comedy - Ole' Wayne Man convinced me to do standup comedy a few weeks ago. I'm finding myself writing down little bits and lines again. I swear...if I get the jones to tour again... hopefully I'll be better at it.
6) Photos - Jan Louis, the stinkin' Cuban, has borrowed my Sony gear for nearly three weeks now. He's gone to Puerto Rico and Chicago and Gold Cup during that time. I've been to Hagerstown. He's unemployed, and has more frequent-flier miles than a professional baseball team. How does he afford his rock-and-roll lifestyle?
So, I'm stuck with the sad Canon and no good shots to speak of, except of this:
This is what happens when the Weirdest Thing Ever happens.
Two Sundays ago, Bart called me over to his room to see something on his computer. Kramer was laying down in front of Bart's door, and I stepped over him gently. As I'm doing this, a freak gust of wind outside created a vacuum in our house, and caused Bart's door to slam shut...right into my nose and eye, hard. I started to step back, but could feel Kramer's leg under my foot, so I lifted my leg off the ground. I went butt-first into the drywall, holding my possibly-bleeding nose and eye with my right hand, and trying to brace myself with my left. Fortunately, I was only left with a small red mark on my face - I must have somehow stopped the door with my right hand or something microns from my pupil. However, look at the hole. Notice the perfect circle. It's like Dana Carvey's old George Michael impersonation.
"It is so perfectly round that British scientists use it to calibrate their instruments."
I'll probably patch up my butt hole next week. I included the sleeping dogs in the shot to give a basis for scale. My butt is mighty.
1) Employment - I recently took a job as a contractor at the Heritage Foundation, a conservative think tank in Washington, D.C. I obviously didn't agree with everything they espoused politically, but I did enjoy working as an A/V, IT, and broadcasting support guy. They had so many events in their building - speeches, seminars, documentary showings, minglers - and it was nice to meet a few folks I've seen quoted in the news. While I'm not the little conservative I was 20 years ago - far from it, actually - I do strongly agree with their points on controlling the National Debt and cutting entitlement programs. I fortunately was not there long enough to get into a political discussion with anybody of import. As soon as they'd find out that I voted for a Democrat in 2008, I'd probably be shown the door.
Having said that, the job itself was great. My direct boss was quite a pill, however. I've never worked with somebody so...blatantly hard to work with. She was a nice enough person on her own, but so incredibly odd. For instance - she's a micromanager to the ultimate degree. She didn't think I was taking enough notes on my first day, and physically yanked the pen out from my hands and wrote the notes herself. I have never had anybody do that ever, and she did it four times my first two days. She also forbade chit-chat. No talking, just sit at your desk quietly until the phone rang. So, it was next to impossible to ask the other members of the team for advice. She gave me four different shifts my first week - it's nice to know when you're working before you're working. 8-5? 7-4? 10-8? (not a typo) Pick one, lady. On top of that, the guy who was responsible for training me didn't talk at all, and then gave me bad information every chance he could. Not cool. It was like he was deliberately sabotaging me.
Ultimately, though, my issues with the job were directly tied to the odd boss. I can't work in silence. I'm 36, not in the 3rd grade. I need human interaction. And, I need my pen to remain in my hand until I set it down of my own accord.
The contracting company was of little help, either. They were paying a straight by-the-hour rate. No benefits, no sick leave, no medical insurance, no nothing. Need time off? Lose a paycheck. Need a 401k? Get it yourself, slick. That they also did not disclose the true working hours were set at 37.5 hours, not 40. So, when we did the math at 40 hours, it was a substantial, yet doable pay cut from my previous job. Knock another 2.5 hours off per week, and it suddenly became too dear to handle. I gave my two week notice last week, and they let me go that Friday night.
Why would I leave so quickly? Can you say "Department of Health?" That's where I'm working on Tuesday, after Memorial Day. One of my older job applications came through, and they offered me the job while I was at Heritage. It's a great pay and benefit increase from Heritage, about what I made at the Pentagon, but with better health care. Awesome, I say. My new employer is AVI-SPL - much more professional than Chronos and with all sorts of great projects going on across the country.
Hopefully this one will work out for a while.
2) Projects - The great digitalization movement is in full effect. I've filled up one 500GB hard drive with tunes. All my CDs are getting dumped into iTunes' lossless format so I can store these discs away and never have to see them again. I'm going to back up the entire music collection on a 1TB drive and probably connect that to a wireless network device. Yes, I know I'm a geek. Bite me.
I'm also putting everything in bins. I have bins for my bins.
3) Personal - Um...I took myself out of the dating world while unemployed, and now I'm looking to get back into the world of being at least semi-social again. Went on a nice date last week with a woman to Oyamel. She's a funny one - great taste in music, fierce independent streak, killer hair. However, I promptly followed up our date by getting a sinus infection, and that took me out of commission the last week. Thanks, karma?
I went to see "Lying In State" in Hagerstown today. Erika played "Bubbles," a stripper/Senate candidate in this political spoof. First time I've seen her in about 9 months, I guess. She's a natural on stage. Makes me want to dust off the olde head shots and audition myself. Wonder how I'd do with nearly a decade between roles?
4) Food - The gang have moved www.dcfud.com over to a new server, and the page looks good. Now that I'm employed, I'll be dining out more, and should be able to write about something.
5) Comedy - Ole' Wayne Man convinced me to do standup comedy a few weeks ago. I'm finding myself writing down little bits and lines again. I swear...if I get the jones to tour again... hopefully I'll be better at it.
6) Photos - Jan Louis, the stinkin' Cuban, has borrowed my Sony gear for nearly three weeks now. He's gone to Puerto Rico and Chicago and Gold Cup during that time. I've been to Hagerstown. He's unemployed, and has more frequent-flier miles than a professional baseball team. How does he afford his rock-and-roll lifestyle?
So, I'm stuck with the sad Canon and no good shots to speak of, except of this:
This is what happens when the Weirdest Thing Ever happens.
Two Sundays ago, Bart called me over to his room to see something on his computer. Kramer was laying down in front of Bart's door, and I stepped over him gently. As I'm doing this, a freak gust of wind outside created a vacuum in our house, and caused Bart's door to slam shut...right into my nose and eye, hard. I started to step back, but could feel Kramer's leg under my foot, so I lifted my leg off the ground. I went butt-first into the drywall, holding my possibly-bleeding nose and eye with my right hand, and trying to brace myself with my left. Fortunately, I was only left with a small red mark on my face - I must have somehow stopped the door with my right hand or something microns from my pupil. However, look at the hole. Notice the perfect circle. It's like Dana Carvey's old George Michael impersonation.
"It is so perfectly round that British scientists use it to calibrate their instruments."
I'll probably patch up my butt hole next week. I included the sleeping dogs in the shot to give a basis for scale. My butt is mighty.
Thursday, April 09, 2009
Dear O's Fans
Stop interfering with baseballs in play when the Yankees are batting. The O's are winning right now today if you behave yourself.
Monday, April 06, 2009
Lucky Magazine Likes Photoshop. A lot.
I saw the cover of Lucky Magazine at my friend Gina's place yesterday. I asked who the pretty young actress was on the cover.
Cute girl, huh? Looks like some budding young starlet. About what, 16, 17 years old? Possibly some Swedish model on the rise?
Nope.
How about 35 year old actress Elizabeth Banks.
Yeah, this Elizabeth Banks. Do these two women look the same?
Look, Elizabeth Banks is hot. She's very young-looking naturally. Does she need to be airbrushed to the point of being unrecognizable? To have all of her features be flattened and smoothed and erased? To look like a Swedish model on the tube of a salmon paste pate you can buy at Ikea?
Bad job, Lucky.
Monday, March 16, 2009
From DCFud.com - The Five Paragraph Bitter Food Critic is Scared Amongst the Bargains
From DCFud.com
A decade ago, I dated a woman who worked as a grocery store consultant. She specialized in creating traffic flow through product layout and visual displays. I practically grew up in the grocery store my grandmother owned south of Annapolis, stocking the shelves for pocket money as a child, and managing inventory and the finances as an adult when her health faded. I thought I knew a lot about the grocery business, but I got a crash course in Grocery Store 101 from this consultant. Ever noticed how in the produce section uses lots of wood paneling and angled shelves? That's to give the customer the idea that the fruits and vegetables are "fresh from the farm," like they had been packed and shipped that very day. Colorful apples and oranges always get a prime location because they're eye-catching, while the lowly brown potato is regulated to back-of-the-aisle status. The meat section is the same way - higher-priced red meat is displayed prominently in front near the butcher's department, while lower-priced and less-colorful chicken is placed down the row 20 feet away. Seafood often gets its own corner section, as the mark-up on fresh fish and local crab meat is too much of a profit driver to just place haphazardly in the store. These little Jedi mind tricks are part of the subtle ways grocery chains subliminally herd you through the store. The consultant stressed the importance of initial visual impact - to make the store look appealing as soon as you walk in the door. High-end retailers like Harris-Teeter and Wegmans show either their incredibly sumptuous prepared-foods section or their diverse produce section right up front. Whole Foods and Trader Joe's can lead off with their wholesome baked goods or some special exotic food. Lots of new and refurbished Giants and Safeways entice customers with Starbucks locations as you enter. Newer locations of Shoppers like to start off with a large, colorful display of deeply-discounted products, thus proving to their value to the customer.
Then, there's Bottom Dollar Food. They don't have time for all that noise. They just leave a big ole' mess of cardboard right up front. See, Bottom Dollar is all about saving the consumer as much money as possible, so you can either pay a couple of cents for grocery bags, or use the free cardboard boxes. Sturdy boxes used to ship bottled water go quickly, while the small squares used to transport salt shakers are left to wallow. Some of the Bottom Dollar faithful bring their own. Either way, the boxes come in handy to haul away some pretty good deals. Prices are generally quite low - 2 liters of soda are half the price than the neighboring Giant. Fresh meats are about 15% per pound cheaper than their competitors. Produce is about 20% cheaper than the nearby Safeway.
Bottom Dollar is part of the Food Lion family, just like Bloom, which I reviewed in 2007. Unlike Bloom, Bottom Dollar doesn't try to hide its association with the parent company. They proudly sell Food Lion products as the generic options to the big brand names. Also, they don't have near the product diversity or the dutifully restocked shelves like Bloom. It's somewhat strange to see relatively thin inventories in an American grocery store, but that's the case at Bottom Dollar. You won't feel crowded or overwhelmed by the selection. Still, I got a large box of Honey Comb for $2.56 and a pound of frozen Alaskan pollack for $1.99 - about 33% cheaper than other stores.
However, I doubt I'll make regular trips to Bottom Dollar, and it has nothing to do with the products or the prices. It's the attitude. It breeds weirdness. The store is somewhat overly-lit, and their love of day-glo orange and green paint conjures up memories of the washed-out 1970s, and not the fun, coked-out 1970s, either, but of ugly station wagons with wood paneling. There's no background music playing, either - at least, not in any of my trips there so far - and there's something eerie about an almost silent grocery store. It's like the Centralia of shopping.
And, much like the few folks who remain in Centralia, frankly, the natives freak me out. This weekend, a married couple shopped with a Nextel dangling from a lanyard around the wife's neck, pulling double duty as a necklace and a phone. Their conversation with an offspring echoed and chirped throughout the frozen food aisle. And, while I'm thinking of it ...
...sorry, I blacked out there for a second. Anyway, another customer, a man in his mid-50s, I suppose, was buying individual servings of frozen yogurt. Nothing odd about that normally, except this man was buying *A LOT* of yogurt. Like, an entire shelf of it. Like, even Jamie Lee Curtis couldn't eat that much yogurt. I estimated about 50 cups in his grocery cart as I walked past, and I watched him pull another 30 or so cups before the Nextel-couple asked him what he was going to do with all that yogurt. His reply was hardly as sinister as I hoped - "it's good for you!" - and yes, indeed he did intend to eat all that yogurt. The Nextel husband commented later to me in the checkout line that this stuff happens all the time at "Bottom Loser." Much like The Replacements, ironically, I can't hardly wait.
*********************************************************************************************
Bottom Dollar Foods gets 20 Whammies! out of a possible 25. I saved nearly 25% on my grocery bill at Bottom Dollar as opposed to similar trips to Safeway or Harris Teeter. However, I subtracted 2 Whammies! for the freaky Nextel couple, 1 Whammy! for the freaky yogurt guy, and two Whammies! for making me forage through the cardboard box dump to cart off my purchases. Shoppers used to do the same thing until they realized how ghetto that made them look. Take heed, Bottom Dollar...but, man, I do love cheap Honey Comb.
*********************************************************************************************
Bottom Dollar Foods
13 locations between Frederick and Fredericksburg.
A decade ago, I dated a woman who worked as a grocery store consultant. She specialized in creating traffic flow through product layout and visual displays. I practically grew up in the grocery store my grandmother owned south of Annapolis, stocking the shelves for pocket money as a child, and managing inventory and the finances as an adult when her health faded. I thought I knew a lot about the grocery business, but I got a crash course in Grocery Store 101 from this consultant. Ever noticed how in the produce section uses lots of wood paneling and angled shelves? That's to give the customer the idea that the fruits and vegetables are "fresh from the farm," like they had been packed and shipped that very day. Colorful apples and oranges always get a prime location because they're eye-catching, while the lowly brown potato is regulated to back-of-the-aisle status. The meat section is the same way - higher-priced red meat is displayed prominently in front near the butcher's department, while lower-priced and less-colorful chicken is placed down the row 20 feet away. Seafood often gets its own corner section, as the mark-up on fresh fish and local crab meat is too much of a profit driver to just place haphazardly in the store. These little Jedi mind tricks are part of the subtle ways grocery chains subliminally herd you through the store. The consultant stressed the importance of initial visual impact - to make the store look appealing as soon as you walk in the door. High-end retailers like Harris-Teeter and Wegmans show either their incredibly sumptuous prepared-foods section or their diverse produce section right up front. Whole Foods and Trader Joe's can lead off with their wholesome baked goods or some special exotic food. Lots of new and refurbished Giants and Safeways entice customers with Starbucks locations as you enter. Newer locations of Shoppers like to start off with a large, colorful display of deeply-discounted products, thus proving to their value to the customer.
Then, there's Bottom Dollar Food. They don't have time for all that noise. They just leave a big ole' mess of cardboard right up front. See, Bottom Dollar is all about saving the consumer as much money as possible, so you can either pay a couple of cents for grocery bags, or use the free cardboard boxes. Sturdy boxes used to ship bottled water go quickly, while the small squares used to transport salt shakers are left to wallow. Some of the Bottom Dollar faithful bring their own. Either way, the boxes come in handy to haul away some pretty good deals. Prices are generally quite low - 2 liters of soda are half the price than the neighboring Giant. Fresh meats are about 15% per pound cheaper than their competitors. Produce is about 20% cheaper than the nearby Safeway.
Bottom Dollar is part of the Food Lion family, just like Bloom, which I reviewed in 2007. Unlike Bloom, Bottom Dollar doesn't try to hide its association with the parent company. They proudly sell Food Lion products as the generic options to the big brand names. Also, they don't have near the product diversity or the dutifully restocked shelves like Bloom. It's somewhat strange to see relatively thin inventories in an American grocery store, but that's the case at Bottom Dollar. You won't feel crowded or overwhelmed by the selection. Still, I got a large box of Honey Comb for $2.56 and a pound of frozen Alaskan pollack for $1.99 - about 33% cheaper than other stores.
However, I doubt I'll make regular trips to Bottom Dollar, and it has nothing to do with the products or the prices. It's the attitude. It breeds weirdness. The store is somewhat overly-lit, and their love of day-glo orange and green paint conjures up memories of the washed-out 1970s, and not the fun, coked-out 1970s, either, but of ugly station wagons with wood paneling. There's no background music playing, either - at least, not in any of my trips there so far - and there's something eerie about an almost silent grocery store. It's like the Centralia of shopping.
And, much like the few folks who remain in Centralia, frankly, the natives freak me out. This weekend, a married couple shopped with a Nextel dangling from a lanyard around the wife's neck, pulling double duty as a necklace and a phone. Their conversation with an offspring echoed and chirped throughout the frozen food aisle. And, while I'm thinking of it ...
Hey, Sprint, you want to know why you're taking a beating in the cell phone market? Because you purchased Nextel - THE MOST OBNOXIOUS CELL PHONE EVER! Nextels were cool for like a hot minute in 2000. Those "What if...?" commercials where firefighters run Congress and the delivery people run schools with their Nextels are only slightly less annoying than the new Comcast commercials with the weird monotone singing, bad acid flashback graphics and "The Sims"-like background. And, while I'm thinking of it - Hey, Comcast, I'm glad to see the outrageous amount of money I paid for basic digital cable and internet access for three years went to a good cause, like making THE MOST OBNOXIOUS CABLE COMMERCIAL EVER. I am now a proud FiOS customer, and I pay a lot less to have HD channels *included*, better channel selection, plus much faster internet access, and a lot more reliable service. For the record, the FiOS Guy/Cable Guy commercials are kind of funny. Learn from them, Comcast. Entertain potential customers, not make them think they drank tainted Flavor-Aid.
...sorry, I blacked out there for a second. Anyway, another customer, a man in his mid-50s, I suppose, was buying individual servings of frozen yogurt. Nothing odd about that normally, except this man was buying *A LOT* of yogurt. Like, an entire shelf of it. Like, even Jamie Lee Curtis couldn't eat that much yogurt. I estimated about 50 cups in his grocery cart as I walked past, and I watched him pull another 30 or so cups before the Nextel-couple asked him what he was going to do with all that yogurt. His reply was hardly as sinister as I hoped - "it's good for you!" - and yes, indeed he did intend to eat all that yogurt. The Nextel husband commented later to me in the checkout line that this stuff happens all the time at "Bottom Loser." Much like The Replacements, ironically, I can't hardly wait.
*********************************************************************************************
Bottom Dollar Foods gets 20 Whammies! out of a possible 25. I saved nearly 25% on my grocery bill at Bottom Dollar as opposed to similar trips to Safeway or Harris Teeter. However, I subtracted 2 Whammies! for the freaky Nextel couple, 1 Whammy! for the freaky yogurt guy, and two Whammies! for making me forage through the cardboard box dump to cart off my purchases. Shoppers used to do the same thing until they realized how ghetto that made them look. Take heed, Bottom Dollar...but, man, I do love cheap Honey Comb.
*********************************************************************************************
Bottom Dollar Foods
13 locations between Frederick and Fredericksburg.
Friday, March 13, 2009
Amish Rave Four Play Keepers
ROCKVILLE (UPI) - In what has become the annual highlight of owner Raymond Bradley's fantasy baseball season, his team, the Amish Rave Four Play, have announced the coaching staff for their 2009 season.
"For years, I have stepped up to the dais and announced the names of the men who will lead this team - my team - to fantasy glory," began Bradley. "Notice the key word in that sentence. 'Men.' I have yet to have any shred of success in getting men to run my team."
"This year, I have decided we don't need men running the Amish Rave," said Bradley. We need stars. PORN STARS to be exact!"
At that point, the curtain behind Bradley was opened to reveal a bunch of exceedingly naked people, many of them surgically enhanced to look almost buoyant.
"That's right, America, I'm bring porn back into the mainstream, and what's more mainstream than baseball?" Bradley asked.
One member of the press spoke up and answered "Um, our country's military heroes?"
"That was a rhetorical question, you yak-breeder," Bradley replied. "There's nothing more American than baseball other than porn! We make more porn in the US by 9 AM than most countries do ALL DAY! And all sorts of porn, too, from bored married couples looking to spice things up in the bedroom after 15 years of unsatisfying missionary position sex; from big-budget productions taking place on soundstages with all sorts of unnecessary plot, dialog and costumes; to back-alley sex dungeons in New York offering free streaming web cams of S&M sessions; to naive college girls on Spring Break and the horny 30 year old men who trick them into thinking that showing their boobs for "Girls Gone Wild" is "empowering to women"; to those Iowan strippers in seedy clubs outside of Council Bluffs looking to score a couple of extra bucks with a passing truck driver; from beach bunnies in Miami Beach who enjoy rubbing their firm and possibly-fake breasts on other beach bunnies from Miami Beach and the men who take pictures of them with their camera phones; to all the women who have bought double-headed dildos, video cameras, and who have a dream; and to all the scores of pretty but untalented wanna-be actresses in Southern California who give better anal than they do auditions and who really, REALLY need the rent money and didn't have a fall-back plan; I salute them all!" extolled Bradley, his voice strong, and, in this author's opinion, almost Obama-like in his diction, eloquence and mannerism.
Another member of the press corps, a large, muscular, tanned men who refused to be identified as anything other than "Arod from the New York Yank...I mean Post," asked "Mr. Bradley, I noticed during your speech that at no time did you mention any homosexual men, perhaps the largest audience of porn and a potentially big demographic for your team. How do you respond?"
Bradley calmly put his hands over his ears, and said "blah blah blah blah I can't hear you gay porn ewwwww blah blah blah."
The eloquence had left the building.
Bradley continued with his announcement, as two of the surgically-enhanced women behind him began to grind seductively against each other, causing visible anxiety amongst the members of the press who had gathered at the White Flint Mall for this announcement, except, amazingly, the man known as "Arod."
"This year's coaching staff needs really a minimal introduction. To my right, you've seen him in pornos since the 1970s, and wondered if an ugly, hairy bastard like that can get laid, surely I can too, the Amish Rave Four Play's hitting coach, Ron "the Hedgehog" Jeremy!" exclaimed Bradley, to a smattering of claps and a rousing round of applause from Mr. Arod.
Jeremy took the dais and said "I know *I* can suck myself off; I've now got to teach the Rave *NOT* to suck!"
Bradley went back to the dais, and sprayed the microphone down with Lysol and a Handi-Wipe, and continued with the press conference.
"Our strength and conditioning coach is a legend in the porn world. He too has been banging the hell outta sluts since the golden age of smut, but, has stayed in such incredible shape that he's a natural for the Amish Rave, Mr. Peter North!" said Bradley, again to a bit more clapping and a positively embarrassing display of whooping and hollering from Mr. Arod.
"Thank you for this opportunity," said North. "Do any of you know the muscle discipline it takes to do a reverse pile-driver into the gaping anus of a 19 year old girl from El Segundo? No? I do, and, it's a lot. I hope I can pass on this knowledge to the Amish Rave."
Bradley then went to shake North's hand, but found it to be gooey, and passed on the attempt. Bradley then said that he "...initially approached Jeff Stryker to see if he wanted a position on this team..." but was interrupted when Mr. Arod started cheering in Spanish and waved his shirt around like a drunk coal miner spun a Terrible Towel after the Pittsburgh Steelers got some complete B.S. calls against the Ravens in the NFL in 2008, but, this author digresses.
Bradley then completed his sentence "but the only position he wanted on this team was a sixty-nine!!!" which, at that point, made Mr. Arod ejaculate, and not in the old-fashioned nineteenth century version of the word, meaning "to exclaim," but in the 8th grade health class version of the word, meaning "to blow choad all over the poor dude in front of him." Yes, Arod came all over the back of another member of the press corps at mere mention of bisexual porn star Jeff Stryker. I want you all to think about that.
After a fifteen minute delay as the Rave's groundscrew cleaned up Arod's baby batter from the floor around him, Arod went outside to smoke a clove cigarette, and the guy in front of Arod who took the lion's share of the load to the back of the head went to the locker room to take a shower and ask himself questions, alone, in the shower stall, Bradley continued the press conference.
"Our bullpen is either a source of pain or of joy, depending on the season," said Bradley. "Often, the Rave's bullpen pitchers are not ready to come into the games like they should be, and really drive it home. So, our bullpen coach in 2009 is former Vivid Video fluffer and porn star in her own right, Mary Carey!"
Mary Carey approached the microphone, and promptly swallowed it, which drew many cheers and gasps from the audience.
Mr. Arod booed, for the record.
Without a microphone, the press conference looked lost, but thanks to the quick thinking of Peter North and Ron Jeremy, they immediately gave Ms. Carey a modified version of the Heimlich Maneuver, this one without pants and utilizing a lot more penetration than customary. Within minutes, Mary Carey had faked two orgasms and coughed up the microphone.
"As many of you know, the hard part - heh, I said 'hard' - with this team each year is coming up with a good coach and general manager combination. Few combinations had the panache, the joie de vie, the je nais sais quoi, the deja vu, the comme si, comme ca, the voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir and other assorted French phrases like Wade Boggs and John Kruk did during their time with the Rave. So this year, I was really looking to recapture that chemistry. I thought Weird Al was going to bring it for me a couple of years ago. And those other guys who I can't recall....they didn't work out too well either. I went for a couple who I thought extolled grace, the spirit of fun, and the complete lack of sobriety needed to run the Rave. This years' General Manager is the star of suck films - heh, I said 'suck' - I mean, SUCH films as "Cum Buckets! 3" and "Grand Theft Anal 9" Miss Jenna Haze!"
Ms. Haze approached the dais to much cheering and whistling from the press corps, shaking her hips from side to side, clad in a Catholic school girl's uniform with fishnets, a garter belt and a set of handcuffs. Once again, the only man not applauding was Mr. Arod, who was buried in his Blackberry, texting to somebody listed as "M.Donna." Ms. Haze took the Mary Carey-soaked microphone in her hands, and started to slowly lick the shaft.
"I want to make the Rave the hardest team to beat in the league!" exclaimed Jenna as she smacked the microphone against the side of her face.
Bradley reapproached the podium, and slipped Ms. Haze his cell phone number, saying something about "any late night personnel decisions."
"The manager this year is former hardcore star and current mistress and fetish queen Taylor St. Clair. She's got the experience and dominant personality this team needs," explained Bradley.
Taylor took the stage wearing more leather than a biker bar in Sturgis and showing more tit than the San Diego Chargers' cheerleaders.
"We will WIN or I will WHIP THEM!" said St. Clair forcefully. She smacked her whip against the podium, turned around, and gave Bradley a quick squeeze on the butt. She whispered "thanks for the job" into his ear.
At that point, Mr. Bradley called over his groundscrew to clean up around him. Bradley stammered out "Press conference is about to be over. Um, Ms. Haze, can you announce our keepers this year for me?" Bradley asked while trying to hide a massive erection.
Jenna said "OK, here's who we want...badly."
Josh Ham-in-my-ill-tush
Cunter Penis
Chris Ian-my-enda
Dan Uggly
Shane Victor-in-ho
Daisuke Matsuzaka sounds dirty enough on its own
Brandon Webb - too good to mess with
Ty Wigginin-my-bum
Troy Tulowitzkitty
Brandon Morrow-yer-junk-in-my-butt
and possibly David Labia Murphy in case anybody gets hurt.
"For years, I have stepped up to the dais and announced the names of the men who will lead this team - my team - to fantasy glory," began Bradley. "Notice the key word in that sentence. 'Men.' I have yet to have any shred of success in getting men to run my team."
"This year, I have decided we don't need men running the Amish Rave," said Bradley. We need stars. PORN STARS to be exact!"
At that point, the curtain behind Bradley was opened to reveal a bunch of exceedingly naked people, many of them surgically enhanced to look almost buoyant.
"That's right, America, I'm bring porn back into the mainstream, and what's more mainstream than baseball?" Bradley asked.
One member of the press spoke up and answered "Um, our country's military heroes?"
"That was a rhetorical question, you yak-breeder," Bradley replied. "There's nothing more American than baseball other than porn! We make more porn in the US by 9 AM than most countries do ALL DAY! And all sorts of porn, too, from bored married couples looking to spice things up in the bedroom after 15 years of unsatisfying missionary position sex; from big-budget productions taking place on soundstages with all sorts of unnecessary plot, dialog and costumes; to back-alley sex dungeons in New York offering free streaming web cams of S&M sessions; to naive college girls on Spring Break and the horny 30 year old men who trick them into thinking that showing their boobs for "Girls Gone Wild" is "empowering to women"; to those Iowan strippers in seedy clubs outside of Council Bluffs looking to score a couple of extra bucks with a passing truck driver; from beach bunnies in Miami Beach who enjoy rubbing their firm and possibly-fake breasts on other beach bunnies from Miami Beach and the men who take pictures of them with their camera phones; to all the women who have bought double-headed dildos, video cameras, and who have a dream; and to all the scores of pretty but untalented wanna-be actresses in Southern California who give better anal than they do auditions and who really, REALLY need the rent money and didn't have a fall-back plan; I salute them all!" extolled Bradley, his voice strong, and, in this author's opinion, almost Obama-like in his diction, eloquence and mannerism.
Another member of the press corps, a large, muscular, tanned men who refused to be identified as anything other than "Arod from the New York Yank...I mean Post," asked "Mr. Bradley, I noticed during your speech that at no time did you mention any homosexual men, perhaps the largest audience of porn and a potentially big demographic for your team. How do you respond?"
Bradley calmly put his hands over his ears, and said "blah blah blah blah I can't hear you gay porn ewwwww blah blah blah."
The eloquence had left the building.
Bradley continued with his announcement, as two of the surgically-enhanced women behind him began to grind seductively against each other, causing visible anxiety amongst the members of the press who had gathered at the White Flint Mall for this announcement, except, amazingly, the man known as "Arod."
"This year's coaching staff needs really a minimal introduction. To my right, you've seen him in pornos since the 1970s, and wondered if an ugly, hairy bastard like that can get laid, surely I can too, the Amish Rave Four Play's hitting coach, Ron "the Hedgehog" Jeremy!" exclaimed Bradley, to a smattering of claps and a rousing round of applause from Mr. Arod.
Jeremy took the dais and said "I know *I* can suck myself off; I've now got to teach the Rave *NOT* to suck!"
Bradley went back to the dais, and sprayed the microphone down with Lysol and a Handi-Wipe, and continued with the press conference.
"Our strength and conditioning coach is a legend in the porn world. He too has been banging the hell outta sluts since the golden age of smut, but, has stayed in such incredible shape that he's a natural for the Amish Rave, Mr. Peter North!" said Bradley, again to a bit more clapping and a positively embarrassing display of whooping and hollering from Mr. Arod.
"Thank you for this opportunity," said North. "Do any of you know the muscle discipline it takes to do a reverse pile-driver into the gaping anus of a 19 year old girl from El Segundo? No? I do, and, it's a lot. I hope I can pass on this knowledge to the Amish Rave."
Bradley then went to shake North's hand, but found it to be gooey, and passed on the attempt. Bradley then said that he "...initially approached Jeff Stryker to see if he wanted a position on this team..." but was interrupted when Mr. Arod started cheering in Spanish and waved his shirt around like a drunk coal miner spun a Terrible Towel after the Pittsburgh Steelers got some complete B.S. calls against the Ravens in the NFL in 2008, but, this author digresses.
Bradley then completed his sentence "but the only position he wanted on this team was a sixty-nine!!!" which, at that point, made Mr. Arod ejaculate, and not in the old-fashioned nineteenth century version of the word, meaning "to exclaim," but in the 8th grade health class version of the word, meaning "to blow choad all over the poor dude in front of him." Yes, Arod came all over the back of another member of the press corps at mere mention of bisexual porn star Jeff Stryker. I want you all to think about that.
After a fifteen minute delay as the Rave's groundscrew cleaned up Arod's baby batter from the floor around him, Arod went outside to smoke a clove cigarette, and the guy in front of Arod who took the lion's share of the load to the back of the head went to the locker room to take a shower and ask himself questions, alone, in the shower stall, Bradley continued the press conference.
"Our bullpen is either a source of pain or of joy, depending on the season," said Bradley. "Often, the Rave's bullpen pitchers are not ready to come into the games like they should be, and really drive it home. So, our bullpen coach in 2009 is former Vivid Video fluffer and porn star in her own right, Mary Carey!"
Mary Carey approached the microphone, and promptly swallowed it, which drew many cheers and gasps from the audience.
Mr. Arod booed, for the record.
Without a microphone, the press conference looked lost, but thanks to the quick thinking of Peter North and Ron Jeremy, they immediately gave Ms. Carey a modified version of the Heimlich Maneuver, this one without pants and utilizing a lot more penetration than customary. Within minutes, Mary Carey had faked two orgasms and coughed up the microphone.
"As many of you know, the hard part - heh, I said 'hard' - with this team each year is coming up with a good coach and general manager combination. Few combinations had the panache, the joie de vie, the je nais sais quoi, the deja vu, the comme si, comme ca, the voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir and other assorted French phrases like Wade Boggs and John Kruk did during their time with the Rave. So this year, I was really looking to recapture that chemistry. I thought Weird Al was going to bring it for me a couple of years ago. And those other guys who I can't recall....they didn't work out too well either. I went for a couple who I thought extolled grace, the spirit of fun, and the complete lack of sobriety needed to run the Rave. This years' General Manager is the star of suck films - heh, I said 'suck' - I mean, SUCH films as "Cum Buckets! 3" and "Grand Theft Anal 9" Miss Jenna Haze!"
Ms. Haze approached the dais to much cheering and whistling from the press corps, shaking her hips from side to side, clad in a Catholic school girl's uniform with fishnets, a garter belt and a set of handcuffs. Once again, the only man not applauding was Mr. Arod, who was buried in his Blackberry, texting to somebody listed as "M.Donna." Ms. Haze took the Mary Carey-soaked microphone in her hands, and started to slowly lick the shaft.
"I want to make the Rave the hardest team to beat in the league!" exclaimed Jenna as she smacked the microphone against the side of her face.
Bradley reapproached the podium, and slipped Ms. Haze his cell phone number, saying something about "any late night personnel decisions."
"The manager this year is former hardcore star and current mistress and fetish queen Taylor St. Clair. She's got the experience and dominant personality this team needs," explained Bradley.
Taylor took the stage wearing more leather than a biker bar in Sturgis and showing more tit than the San Diego Chargers' cheerleaders.
"We will WIN or I will WHIP THEM!" said St. Clair forcefully. She smacked her whip against the podium, turned around, and gave Bradley a quick squeeze on the butt. She whispered "thanks for the job" into his ear.
At that point, Mr. Bradley called over his groundscrew to clean up around him. Bradley stammered out "Press conference is about to be over. Um, Ms. Haze, can you announce our keepers this year for me?" Bradley asked while trying to hide a massive erection.
Jenna said "OK, here's who we want...badly."
Josh Ham-in-my-ill-tush
Cunter Penis
Chris Ian-my-enda
Dan Uggly
Shane Victor-in-ho
Daisuke Matsuzaka sounds dirty enough on its own
Brandon Webb - too good to mess with
Ty Wigginin-my-bum
Troy Tulowitzkitty
Brandon Morrow-yer-junk-in-my-butt
and possibly David Labia Murphy in case anybody gets hurt.
Monday, February 23, 2009
I'm not clever, but I own a cleaver. Does that count?
Because I'm not clever enough to come up with my own Facebook memes, but just wise enough to change them into my own lil' sub-meme. These are 16 albums that changed my life, and 9 that missed.
First - the Good 16.
16) Faithless - Outrospective. To say this is the best electronica band I've ever heard is an understatement. They make dance songs with meaning...or they make meaningful songs you can dance to. Either way.
15) XTC - Nonsuch. Not their best album, but very whimsical and surprisingly brilliant. It's amazing at how vital this album becomes with every passing year.
14) Kitchens of Distinction - "Strange Free World." You can listen to a million albums, but you will never hear a trio sound so incredibly rich. They do a Phil Spector-esque "Wall of Sound" but can do it on the quietest, loveliest songs. It took me a while to realize the lead singer/songwriter was a gay man, and suddenly all the love songs took on a different meaning. The songs were more than mere expressions of affection, but also of a man trying to come to grips with his sexuality in a world when other artists where still firmly in the closet.
13) Depeche Mode - Violator. Josh Grinnell was the biggest Depeche Mode fan I'd ever met. He was essentially an evangelist for them, as at the time, I didn't care for much of those new-fangled synthesizers. Gimme guitars or go home! I mean, I could listen to some stuff, like DM's "Music for the Masses" or Erasure, but I never had a "whoa..." moment with them. Violator was a giant "whoa..."
12) The Replacements - Tim. The Replacements are probably my favorite rock band, and I loved the way how they straddled between competence and drunken brilliance. I have never cared to listen to many of their albums, though. They always seemed to botch something. Three good songs and then something almost unlistenable. They didn't do that on "Tim."
11) Men at Work - Business as Usual. I bought this on vinyl. This was my second or third album I bought, but the oldest one that survives and is playable. I remember saving my dollar-a-week allowance for a month to buy this. The Christian bookstore by the Old Country Buffet in Annapolis used to be a record store. My mom used to take me on her shopping trips, and she wondered why I would be a monster in the toy store, yet calm in the record store. I guess I always knew. But this is the album that made me figure "Australians are pretty cool" and the fact I had more success as an actor in Australia than I ever did in the U.S. is directly attributable to Men at Work.
10) Shirley Horn - Shirley Horn, with Strings. A local DC woman who was essentially unknown outside her neighborhood, but a legend in the jazz/standards community. A former lover of Miles Davis, her songs played the role of the aging beauty still trying to hold on to strands of dignity and come to grips with her emotions.
9) The Killers - Hot Fuss. I was in Vegas a few times back in 2002. A comic friend of mine back then was getting married; I went to a big convention and expo, and I had a job interview. A friend had told me about this local band playing at some bar off the Strip. I remember thinking "these guys have a good sound, but suck live. I'll bet they're better in the studio." I was right. This album did not escape my CD player in my old Ford Focus for two months, at least.
8) The Beach Boys - Pet Sounds. If you've ever heard it, you'll know why. Amazing production values, great lyrics, incredible mood. That our generation knows them more for that tripe "Kokomo" is sad. They were this close to being better than The Beatles.
7) Prefab Sprout - Jordan, The Comeback. In 1991, I was looking for some good electronic angry music. Something industrial, like Front 242, or Skinny Puppy. I saw a postcard at Oceans II records in Annapolis for a British music dance party. On the list of bands were groups like New Order and Front 242. And Prefab Sprout. I had never heard of those guys, so I picked up "Jordan" out of the used bin. Paddy Macloon is the lead singer and creative mastermind behind Prefab Sprout. He is as industrial as I am a professional opera singer in Italy. But, you've got to have some serious talent to make a pissed off 18 year old go "damn..." with music that has nothing to do with industrial. The Sprouts have been one of my favorites since.
6) Kent - Isola. An album I bought completely based on the recommendation of the clerk at a record store in Des Moines. I was telling him that I'd heard a song on Iowa Public Radio (which, for all you who heap scorn upon my former state, was BY FAR the best alternative-indie-singer/songwriter stations I had ever heard) and tried to hum a bit of it. He goes "you're the third person to ask me that. I think it's these guys" - reaches for Isola - and hands it to me. I put it in my car...and promptly forget to listen to it for three months. When I do, I'm driving through Northern Iowa, it's 17 degrees, snowy, and kids are racing by on their snowmobiles. If there's ever been a better time to listen to a band from Sweden than during an Iowa winter...
5) Van Morrison - Moondance. One of my stepfather's only non-bluegrass recordings, but I nonetheless unfairly lumped this album into the category "If my stepdad likes it, it must suck." Thanks to Katie Craig, now Mrs. Bocock, I saw the error in my ways.
4) Barenaked Ladies - Gordon. It was refreshing to see musicians so talented, but yet so nerdy. Unlike the skinny Brits or the drunken Yanks, BNL back in 1992 were just five geeks from Canada who had like, maybe 10 fans in the states. That they were about 15 minutes away from being the one of the best-selling bands in Canada's history is important to note - they may have gotten more polished with money and fame, but they're still pretty dorky. Although they're not as vital as they used to be, they had a good 15 year run, and their newer music every once in a while hints at the madness they used to achieve regularly.
3) U2 - War. The album that made me thing that maybe politics and history do have a place in rock.
2) The Church - Seance. One of my bigger regrets in life was not being born and raised as a Maine sailor. Maine is a state best known for Stephen King and having a shit-ton of lighthouses. However, there is a ruggedness and bleakness to the terrain that is rather amazing. And, as a 16 year old vacationing with my aunt and uncle in Rockland, Maine, and bringing three tapes with me and my old Sony Walkman, there was no better soundtrack than Stephen Kilbey's voice, Marty Wilson-Piper's guitars and Richard Ploog's drums. Watching the fog roll in over a craggy landscape while "Fly" was playing...wow. Still gets me.
1) Trashcan Sinatras - Cake. The last album I bought in the 1980s, it came out just as the the entire political landscape was changing in Europe, and this album had exactly NOTHING to do with it. It wasn't political, it wasn't loaded with messages, it was simply perfect British pop made up by exceedingly talented Scots, perfectly produced, and blessed with some of the best wordplay ever put to tape. I've had this album for almost 20 years, and every listen gives some new little "ah-hah!" Been my favorite record since I bought it, and has yet to be dislodged.
10 that didn't...
9) Jane's Addiction - Nothing's Shocking/ Ritual de lo Habitual - The band wasn't bad at all, but I have never cared for Perry Ferrel's voice. Some of the songs are great, but, really, Perry Ferrell's screeching killed me. He was much more reserved in Porno for Pyros, and those albums, while not as urgent musically, are much less grating on my ears.
8) The Strokes - Is This It? I like this album a lot. I really do. Strange that I would say I really like an album, but still say it didn't hit. It was given so much indie hype, and was told that it would blow my mind. It didn't. It was good, no doubt, but, it unfortunately launched a spawn of horrific imitators that didn't have the talent or chops. Still, I do like The Strokes.
7) Dashboard Confessional - A Mark A Mission a Brand A Scar - Seriously? THIS is supposed to be an album? If I want to hear crying with guitars, I'll stroll into Guitar Center and show how badly a left-handed person can play a right-handed guitar.
6) Radiohead - Kid A. I can hear the "WHAT???" hipster indignity from here. I like what Radiohead was trying to do. I like the concept, and I appreciate the effort. However, OK Computer is weird, yet listenable. I didn't think it was as brilliant as some thought, but it's a fine recording. Kid A, however, is much harder to listen to, and is weird for the sake of being weird. I'd like to remind Radiohead that "The Bends" is a great album, and nothing to be ashamed of.
5) Linkin Park - pick one, any one. A friend of mine, whose taste in music is usually without reproach, fell head-over-heels for their first album. He extolled their virtues by saying "they don't cuss once!" Well, fuck it, maybe they should. Whine has no place in rock, son.
4) Rage Against the Machine - Rage Against the Machine - I get it, Zack. You're pissed off. You're not going to take it anymore. I've been there, bro. I feel for you. But you make better singles than albums. Sorry.
3) Pearl Jam - 10. I like the idea of Pearl Jam more than I like Pearl Jam. I never got into grunge rock anyway, but I liked Pearl Jam's kinda "no, really, we don't care" attitude. Vs. is a much better album than 10, but even then, I thought Eddie Vedder's singing kind of hurts my ears.
2) The Beastie Boys - License to Ill. This *should* have been perfect for me - a teenage boy looking for some rebellious outlet, and three punky Jewish kids from New York who rap about naughty things. Fantastic! Except...it didn't. It's a fine album, and I like it, but it didn't change my life like it did for others. Never quite connected like it should have.
1) Nivana - Nevermind. Sorry to all those who worship at the altar of Kurt Cobain, but this is one of the most overrated albums of all time. He was truly a talented guy - his uncredited work with Hole proves that he could make crap sound great - but this album was not life-changing. Fuzzy amplifiers, sloppy lyrics - they weren't doing anything I hadn't heard from my stepbrother's old band, and I thought they sucked too. Nirvana sounded more vital on "Bleach" and more sincere on "Unplugged." Never mind.
First - the Good 16.
16) Faithless - Outrospective. To say this is the best electronica band I've ever heard is an understatement. They make dance songs with meaning...or they make meaningful songs you can dance to. Either way.
15) XTC - Nonsuch. Not their best album, but very whimsical and surprisingly brilliant. It's amazing at how vital this album becomes with every passing year.
14) Kitchens of Distinction - "Strange Free World." You can listen to a million albums, but you will never hear a trio sound so incredibly rich. They do a Phil Spector-esque "Wall of Sound" but can do it on the quietest, loveliest songs. It took me a while to realize the lead singer/songwriter was a gay man, and suddenly all the love songs took on a different meaning. The songs were more than mere expressions of affection, but also of a man trying to come to grips with his sexuality in a world when other artists where still firmly in the closet.
13) Depeche Mode - Violator. Josh Grinnell was the biggest Depeche Mode fan I'd ever met. He was essentially an evangelist for them, as at the time, I didn't care for much of those new-fangled synthesizers. Gimme guitars or go home! I mean, I could listen to some stuff, like DM's "Music for the Masses" or Erasure, but I never had a "whoa..." moment with them. Violator was a giant "whoa..."
12) The Replacements - Tim. The Replacements are probably my favorite rock band, and I loved the way how they straddled between competence and drunken brilliance. I have never cared to listen to many of their albums, though. They always seemed to botch something. Three good songs and then something almost unlistenable. They didn't do that on "Tim."
11) Men at Work - Business as Usual. I bought this on vinyl. This was my second or third album I bought, but the oldest one that survives and is playable. I remember saving my dollar-a-week allowance for a month to buy this. The Christian bookstore by the Old Country Buffet in Annapolis used to be a record store. My mom used to take me on her shopping trips, and she wondered why I would be a monster in the toy store, yet calm in the record store. I guess I always knew. But this is the album that made me figure "Australians are pretty cool" and the fact I had more success as an actor in Australia than I ever did in the U.S. is directly attributable to Men at Work.
10) Shirley Horn - Shirley Horn, with Strings. A local DC woman who was essentially unknown outside her neighborhood, but a legend in the jazz/standards community. A former lover of Miles Davis, her songs played the role of the aging beauty still trying to hold on to strands of dignity and come to grips with her emotions.
9) The Killers - Hot Fuss. I was in Vegas a few times back in 2002. A comic friend of mine back then was getting married; I went to a big convention and expo, and I had a job interview. A friend had told me about this local band playing at some bar off the Strip. I remember thinking "these guys have a good sound, but suck live. I'll bet they're better in the studio." I was right. This album did not escape my CD player in my old Ford Focus for two months, at least.
8) The Beach Boys - Pet Sounds. If you've ever heard it, you'll know why. Amazing production values, great lyrics, incredible mood. That our generation knows them more for that tripe "Kokomo" is sad. They were this close to being better than The Beatles.
7) Prefab Sprout - Jordan, The Comeback. In 1991, I was looking for some good electronic angry music. Something industrial, like Front 242, or Skinny Puppy. I saw a postcard at Oceans II records in Annapolis for a British music dance party. On the list of bands were groups like New Order and Front 242. And Prefab Sprout. I had never heard of those guys, so I picked up "Jordan" out of the used bin. Paddy Macloon is the lead singer and creative mastermind behind Prefab Sprout. He is as industrial as I am a professional opera singer in Italy. But, you've got to have some serious talent to make a pissed off 18 year old go "damn..." with music that has nothing to do with industrial. The Sprouts have been one of my favorites since.
6) Kent - Isola. An album I bought completely based on the recommendation of the clerk at a record store in Des Moines. I was telling him that I'd heard a song on Iowa Public Radio (which, for all you who heap scorn upon my former state, was BY FAR the best alternative-indie-singer/songwriter stations I had ever heard) and tried to hum a bit of it. He goes "you're the third person to ask me that. I think it's these guys" - reaches for Isola - and hands it to me. I put it in my car...and promptly forget to listen to it for three months. When I do, I'm driving through Northern Iowa, it's 17 degrees, snowy, and kids are racing by on their snowmobiles. If there's ever been a better time to listen to a band from Sweden than during an Iowa winter...
5) Van Morrison - Moondance. One of my stepfather's only non-bluegrass recordings, but I nonetheless unfairly lumped this album into the category "If my stepdad likes it, it must suck." Thanks to Katie Craig, now Mrs. Bocock, I saw the error in my ways.
4) Barenaked Ladies - Gordon. It was refreshing to see musicians so talented, but yet so nerdy. Unlike the skinny Brits or the drunken Yanks, BNL back in 1992 were just five geeks from Canada who had like, maybe 10 fans in the states. That they were about 15 minutes away from being the one of the best-selling bands in Canada's history is important to note - they may have gotten more polished with money and fame, but they're still pretty dorky. Although they're not as vital as they used to be, they had a good 15 year run, and their newer music every once in a while hints at the madness they used to achieve regularly.
3) U2 - War. The album that made me thing that maybe politics and history do have a place in rock.
2) The Church - Seance. One of my bigger regrets in life was not being born and raised as a Maine sailor. Maine is a state best known for Stephen King and having a shit-ton of lighthouses. However, there is a ruggedness and bleakness to the terrain that is rather amazing. And, as a 16 year old vacationing with my aunt and uncle in Rockland, Maine, and bringing three tapes with me and my old Sony Walkman, there was no better soundtrack than Stephen Kilbey's voice, Marty Wilson-Piper's guitars and Richard Ploog's drums. Watching the fog roll in over a craggy landscape while "Fly" was playing...wow. Still gets me.
1) Trashcan Sinatras - Cake. The last album I bought in the 1980s, it came out just as the the entire political landscape was changing in Europe, and this album had exactly NOTHING to do with it. It wasn't political, it wasn't loaded with messages, it was simply perfect British pop made up by exceedingly talented Scots, perfectly produced, and blessed with some of the best wordplay ever put to tape. I've had this album for almost 20 years, and every listen gives some new little "ah-hah!" Been my favorite record since I bought it, and has yet to be dislodged.
10 that didn't...
9) Jane's Addiction - Nothing's Shocking/ Ritual de lo Habitual - The band wasn't bad at all, but I have never cared for Perry Ferrel's voice. Some of the songs are great, but, really, Perry Ferrell's screeching killed me. He was much more reserved in Porno for Pyros, and those albums, while not as urgent musically, are much less grating on my ears.
8) The Strokes - Is This It? I like this album a lot. I really do. Strange that I would say I really like an album, but still say it didn't hit. It was given so much indie hype, and was told that it would blow my mind. It didn't. It was good, no doubt, but, it unfortunately launched a spawn of horrific imitators that didn't have the talent or chops. Still, I do like The Strokes.
7) Dashboard Confessional - A Mark A Mission a Brand A Scar - Seriously? THIS is supposed to be an album? If I want to hear crying with guitars, I'll stroll into Guitar Center and show how badly a left-handed person can play a right-handed guitar.
6) Radiohead - Kid A. I can hear the "WHAT???" hipster indignity from here. I like what Radiohead was trying to do. I like the concept, and I appreciate the effort. However, OK Computer is weird, yet listenable. I didn't think it was as brilliant as some thought, but it's a fine recording. Kid A, however, is much harder to listen to, and is weird for the sake of being weird. I'd like to remind Radiohead that "The Bends" is a great album, and nothing to be ashamed of.
5) Linkin Park - pick one, any one. A friend of mine, whose taste in music is usually without reproach, fell head-over-heels for their first album. He extolled their virtues by saying "they don't cuss once!" Well, fuck it, maybe they should. Whine has no place in rock, son.
4) Rage Against the Machine - Rage Against the Machine - I get it, Zack. You're pissed off. You're not going to take it anymore. I've been there, bro. I feel for you. But you make better singles than albums. Sorry.
3) Pearl Jam - 10. I like the idea of Pearl Jam more than I like Pearl Jam. I never got into grunge rock anyway, but I liked Pearl Jam's kinda "no, really, we don't care" attitude. Vs. is a much better album than 10, but even then, I thought Eddie Vedder's singing kind of hurts my ears.
2) The Beastie Boys - License to Ill. This *should* have been perfect for me - a teenage boy looking for some rebellious outlet, and three punky Jewish kids from New York who rap about naughty things. Fantastic! Except...it didn't. It's a fine album, and I like it, but it didn't change my life like it did for others. Never quite connected like it should have.
1) Nivana - Nevermind. Sorry to all those who worship at the altar of Kurt Cobain, but this is one of the most overrated albums of all time. He was truly a talented guy - his uncredited work with Hole proves that he could make crap sound great - but this album was not life-changing. Fuzzy amplifiers, sloppy lyrics - they weren't doing anything I hadn't heard from my stepbrother's old band, and I thought they sucked too. Nirvana sounded more vital on "Bleach" and more sincere on "Unplugged." Never mind.
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