Blogjammin' - There'll Be No Shelter Here

2007-05-16T10:38:00.000-07:00

I'm Moving!

Granted, I'm not actually moving... but my blog is. I'm going to try something different, move my blog into the next generation. So, you can now get your fix of exactly what's on my mind by pointing your browser to

www.cory-graham.com

It's a big day, lots of excitement! Things are in their early stages, and glitches are bound to pop up. However, I've tried to work most of the preliminary bugs out before redirecting everyone. Blogjammin' will still be here, full of those old posts and exciting words of wisdom. However, the new site should offer up even more excitement with added features and a sleek new look.

I hope it's as good for you as it was for me.

2007-05-06T18:53:00.000-07:00

I can only assume that the words that follow this disclaimer will indicate that I am old, out of touch, terribly uncool and (god-forbid), a snitch.

Like everyone else (or, at least most people I know), I first heard about the “Stop Snitchin’” campaign via Anderson Cooper 360 and the butter-smooth flow of Mr. Cam’ron. Having grown up listening to everything from The Fat Boys to NWA, and later on from Snoop Dogg to Talib Kweli, I felt that I was fairly in tune with hip-hop culture. Apparently I was wrong. You see, my old age has caused me to focus on more socially conscious, interesting hip-hop records, completely losing sight of what is or isn’t “street.”

Thus, “Stop Snitchin’” flew completely under my radar.

Now, I’ll be honest. Maybe it’s because I’m from a low crime area (all things considered), maybe it’s because I’ve been around police for most of my life and regard many of them as friends, or maybe it’s because I’m I’m a “spoiled-ass, cracker from middle America.” Any of the above could very well account for my lack of understanding when it comes to the Stop Snitchin’ movement (I’ve dropped the quotation marks, as I’m now fairly sure that you’re following me). I was, a few months ago, a victim of crime. It certainly wasn’t front-page news, you may recall the blog entry that addressed the issue.

In case you don’t, someone broke into my house, took a sentimental item and made their getaway.

In that situation, I did what any normal person would do, I called the police. Through the efforts of the Clay City Police Department, the aforementioned item was returned, no harm, no foul. The thief spent about 30 days in jail (which I felt was sufficient) and the warm glow of my light fixture is hanging above my left shoulder as I write this.

However, should I have the misfortune to live in an area populated by the Stop Snitchin’ crowd, my immediate course of action would have been slightly different. I can only imagine that the eventual retrieval of my lamp would have involved substantially more kicking in of doors, coarse language, violence and adult situations. And in reality, even with the “principle of the thing” firmly planted in mind, it probably wouldn’t have been worth it.

So, you can imagine my shock when I heard that the most important underground movement in America, one that was brought into our living rooms by the comforting gaze of Anderson Cooper, was this entire Stop Snitchin’ fiasco. I set off on a quest, figuring that (like most issues) there had to be more than what the mainstream media was reporting. Surely, people of influence weren’t actually telling members of the urban (read: black) community to sacrifice their own livelihood, property or even their lives at the expense of protecting drug dealers and gang bangers. What I found proves and disproves this, as the entire movement can at times raise legitimate points, but seems to largely be about making money.

The Stop Snitchin’ movement can be traced to its infancy in Boston, MA, where local MC, T.A.N.G.G. (Tellin Ass Niggas Gotta Go (I really wish that I was making this up)) used the now infamous Stop Snitchin’ t-shirts as a promotional item for an upcoming mix-tape entitled, you guessed it, “Stop Snitchin’ Vol. 1.” The interest in the items led “Let Us Live Entertainment,” a locally based hip-hop label, to throw money behind the idea as well as market the two subsequent sequels to the mix-tape.

The shirts spread like wildfire, the message became prevalent and it appears that the founders of the movement were forced to quickly come up for an explanation behind exactly why we should stop all of this snitching. The explanation, while clearly a smokescreen for the truth (which should have been, “because people are paying loads of money for these shirts”), actually did hold a certain merit. After years of lackluster enforcement, rampant racism and brutality, the residents of the inner city had simply had enough. In order to keep some sort of rule of law in the streets, the plan was to band together, shut out the police, and regulate criminal behavior on a street-level… wild west style. Of course, doing so meant that the members of the community would be forced to remain silent at all times. If retribution for homicide meant another homicide, locals couldn’t be permitted to disclose information regarding the retaliation, it just wouldn’t be fair.

Now, I can say that I honestly do understand the point being made here. The police in many urban areas (note: this is not to target all police) are in several instances thoroughly corrupt, racist and brutal. Going to the police has long been an afterthought in the inner-city, and this practice is simply an extension of that. However, the prevalence of this policy, paired with the parroting of the mantra by several popular black celebrities isn’t simply keeping a type of underground martial law in place, but is destroying their own communities from the inside.

A quick glance at the movement’s official website says more about the “movement” in question than any spokesman ever could. StopSnitchin.com is nothing more than an opportunity to sell merchandise. Any attempt to find content explaining the movement, its point or message is washed away in a sea of opportunities to order music, videos or t-shirts. The “news” section, where I suspected I may find actual content, was nothing more than a series of clips focused on “The Man” and his attempt to bring down the website. StopSnitchin.com even bills itself as “The #1 Most Controversial Site EVER,” a title that I would have probably reserved for any number of child pornography rings, anarchy guides, Hitler love-fests or The Drudge Report.

There is no substance; there is only merchandise… which I think is a fair summation of the entire movement.

Of course, there would be no national discussion of this issue had there not been a Cam’ron. Anderson, you certainly played your part, but you simply worked to facilitate something that piqued an interest. I have to give Cooper credit, as he and Jon Stewart may be the last real “newsmen” on the planet, but Cam’ron was the star… period. However, before you rush to knight Mr. ‘Ron as the spokesman for the streets, let’s not forget that his career (which tends to be comprised of a handful of forgettable singles with tasty choruses) is built around using any form of shock as a means to further promote his name and grab some airtime. In the wake of 9/11, Cam’s street team changed their name to “The Taliban,” and his penchant for wearing pink fur set him apart from the pack. To put it bluntly, Cam’ron will whore himself out to anyone, anywhere in an attempt to gain some sort of brief notoriety and sell a few records. Thus, it comes as no surprise that HE would be the mainstream representative of the movement… causing parents to panic, ban his records and further his appeal to young people dying to find something that upsets those same parents.

Now, as I mentioned before, I’m not from the mean streets. I don’t have to worry about snitchin’ or the lack thereof in my neighborhood. In fact, with the ever-growing sub-sect of serious criminals in my town, I’d like to publicly endorse snitchin’. However, that doesn’t mean that I don’t understand the point. I know that many would rush to judge, to point out that I don’t know what I’m talking about, or that I’d completely misread the entire movement. Well, you’re right, I can’t speak from the ‘hood, but I can tell you a few things that I DO know.

I DO know that this “movement” was born out of marketing.
I DO know that the movement first gained notoriety through a DVD released by a man named Rodney Thomas in 2004. I also know that Rodney Thomas pled guilty to 1^st degree assault and is currently serving 15 years… I guess he snitched on himself.
I DO know that this has to be the only significant “movement” in history that is more interested in selling me a t-shirt than explaining why it exists.
I DO know that the supporters of this movement rank among the most self-serving and lowest form of attention-whoring C-List “superstars.”
I DO know that not ONE reputable black celebrity has leant his or her endorsement to this ideology (unless you consider Tyson Beckford and Carmello Anthony to be reputable).
I DO know that safe communities are not built around mob rule and martial law

Normally, the opinion of low-level celebrities barely registers on my radar. However, this instance is different. This isn’t Britney Spears shaving her head, this isn’t Paris Hilton in a grainy, green sex-tape, this is a no-talent MC whipping the mainstream into frenzy over an issue that had no merit to begin with. My concern isn’t Cam’ron, but rather how we react to Cam’ron. If you want to lend legitimacy to an issue, you need only to whip white America into a panic. I promise you that I could get the underground and the youth (which are nearly synonymous in most cases) excited about dog grooming if only Larry King and Brian Williams would do hour-long segments on its inherent evil. By “investigating” this issue, we are simply promoting it. The more unpalatable it becomes to the mainstream, the more pleasing it becomes to the underground. This is why Democratic presidents breed young Republicans and why Republican presidents breed young Democrats (and why Bill Clinton bred Nader voters).

If inner-city America has a problem with law enforcement (and trust me, they should), then inner-city American needs to use this same form of grassroots media takeover to demand accountability. I am not a member of the black community, but I am a member of the human community, and seeing the plight of said community bothers me in the same way as it should bother you all. So, no, I can’t speak for the African-American contingency, but as a white guy, can I ask a question?

If highly paid, highly regarded members of the hip-hop community legitimately want to make a difference in their community, then why don’t they use their celebrity to advocate change? Why are the demands for equality and responsibility coming from Common, Mos Def, Kweli, Kanye West, The Roots, Chuck D and other remarkably talented artists who’s music begs for gold discs, while their ignorant counterparts go triple platinum? Why are the artists I mentioned above considered “white rap,” even though they grew up on the same streets and saw the same struggle as the faux-gangbangers that populate the Billboard Top 40? In essence, why does modern hip-hop feel the need to destroy the community that gave it life?

That’s actually a fairly simple question to answer. Despite what you believe, all hip-hop is “white” hip-hop. Modern hip-hop culture is engineered by record industries to be a shocking, yet comfortable escape from white suburbia. Don’t believe me? Look up the statistics. The majority of these “street” rappers are selling their wares in suburban shopping malls. Mainstream, modern hip-hop amounts to nothing more than a minstrel show targeted at suburban youth to flood them with the image of “tough guys” that scare their parents. That’s not to say that these artists don’t come from legitimate struggle, as the deaths of 2Pac, B.I.G., Big L and even Jam Master Jay have shown us. But these deaths aren’t the loss of human life to these consumers, but rather an affirmation of a street culture that has been fed to them by industry and led them to believe that if your pants don’t hang below your knees and you don’t consider every single member of the female species to be a “bitch,” then you’re clearly not street.

Trust me on this one, I used to be one of those white kids, I’m inside of their head.

The sad by-product of this grand moneymaker is its effect on urban youth. Imagine that you’re 10 years old, living in a housing project in ghetto-America. All around you, nothing but hopelessness… you’d actually try to learn, but the government has tied education funding to property value, so you’re screwed. You try to be an upright citizen, but just the other day you watched the police nearly beat your neighbor to death for looking at them the wrong way (of course, it’s written up as assault). With education and civil service written off, one day you pick up a record. This record was made by a guy or girl from the same project in which you live, he or she saw the same things you saw, and now he or she is a millionaire.

Are you going to listen to your teacher, as they pull out their hair and work for pennies on the dollar, or are you going to listen to the man in the pink fur coat that’s surrounded by beautiful women? Of course, you don’t know that this is all a scheme to make money, you see the sincerity in it, you follow it, you believe it, and you’d give your life to become that person. Thus, you Stop Snitchin’. Your friends do the same, and as a result, your community falls deeper and deeper into despair. By the time that your music career fails, you’ve already blown off an education and any shot at a 9 to 5 job, and your children are raised in more dangerous conditions than you were, conditions that you helped create.

That is my point.

This isn’t about Cam’ron or his street-cred. This is about our role as “mainstream society,” the modern media’s accountability, the responsibility of the record industry, and most importantly… I repeat… MOST IMPORTANTLY, the responsibility of civic leaders in the black community. Recently, Barack Obama, a man with his eyes set on the presidency took this issue to task in front of a predominantly black audience, and I quote (from the Washington Post):

Sen. Barack Obama (D-Ill.) is delivering pointed critiques of the African American community as he campaigns for its votes, lamenting that many of his generation are "disenfranchising" themselves because they don't vote, taking rappers to task for their language, and decrying "anti-intellectualism" in the black community, including black children telling peers who get good grades that they are "acting white."

Y’know what, I earnestly believe that. I believe it and I’m white… which supposedly means that I’m not allowed to say it. I don’t know how difficult it is to be black. In high school I wore “urban” clothing, spoke and carried myself as a member of the stereotypical black community, the only one I was familiar with, thanks to the aforementioned media machine. I was treated very differently then than I am now, as I now look more “mainstream” and am not followed through stores by security guards. However, this doesn’t by any means make me an expert on this subject… you see, I could go home and take off those clothes. I could never take off my skin.

Simply put, I care about the inner-city community, whether they be black, white, hispanic, asian or any other hue. Life is hard enough without having additional roadblocks thrown in your face. So I take my meager stance on my insignificant blog to implore members of the hip-hop community to take positive steps to improve their situation, rather than get rich quick schemes that destroy it.

I guess I’m just old… I snitched on myself.

2007-05-02T07:35:00.000-07:00

Rasslin & Youtube, a match made in Heaven.

Earlier this morning, a friend sent me an email containing a link to "Headlock on My Heart," the finest Dolly Parton/Hulk Hogan collaboration in history. To fully explain what's going on in this video would require far more than mere words. We're talking about a heartwarming story of unrequited love between an ample-chested wrestling fan and her idol, only to watch fate intervene at the end, allowing them to exchange vows in the most romantic of all possible settings... the squared circle.

As a recovering Hulkamaniac, I can certainly see the logic in this. Should I ever walk down the aisle, I can only dream that it would be among thousands of screaming fans... and to Hulk Hogan... wait, did I just type that?

Of course, in the interest of fairness, I'll show you the actual music video in question. After all, you can't possibly get the full, wonderful picture of Dolly and The Hulkster being bound in holy matrimony just based on my description.

Seeing this masterpiece inspired me, set me off on a quest to find other magical moments in wrestling's storied past. No wrestling post could ever be complete without including what may possibly be the greatest example of not only wrestling themed rock & roll, but maybe rock & roll as a whole... Rick Derringer's "Real American."

Here we are shown that Hulk Hogan is one of America's true heroes, on par with not only Martin Luther King and Kennedy but also Abe Lincoln and George Washington. We also see Hulk's kindness, as a giant Hogan storms the country being careful not to destroy any of the national landmarks that visits, although his massive size and giant pythons would certainly allow for it. We even get a glimpse into the future... a future where Hulk Hogan takes his rightful place on Mt. Rushmore (or should we say, Mt. Hulkmore!)

It should be noted that not everyone in wrestling history was as enamored with Hulk Hogan as the children of my generation. Dare I say, The Hulkster even has his share of enemies. Although he eventually overcame his differences with Andre The Giant and The Iron Sheik, his rocky relationship with Dr. D may never have normalized after a series of comments questioning Hulk's sexuality.

Speaking of latent homosexuality, many professionals and intellectuals often point out that the very concept of professional wrestling is based in a psychological need for men to act out their homosexual feelings. Of course, nothing could be further from the truth. There is nothing latently homosexual about wrestling, and there is CERTAINLY nothing latently homosexual about the last 30 or so seconds of this ominous threat from former wrestler, Magnum TA.

Nope... not one single thing. Hell, his name ends with the letters T & A, he's clearly into the ladies.

As far as wrestling goes, there may be no bigger "make or break" platform than the interview. You're given a few seconds to spew hatred for your fellow man, challenge them to a brawl and attempt not to thoroughly embarrass yourself. Some have taken this platform to new heights. For example, no one could match the intensity lack of coherent thought displayed by The Ultimate Warrior on any given day. When he says (what sounds like), "The family that I live for only breathes the air that smells of carpet, with or without the space age," you know that he means it... and if you're on the wrong end of Mr. Warrior, you know that you're in for trouble.

Of course, we all can't be The Ultimate Warrior

It may have taken the actual Billy Graham to save Superstar Billy Graham from himself in that one.

However bad it might be, Graham did get his point across... he doesn't care for Dusty Rhodes. In fact, Graham's hatred for Rhodes grew so strong, that as you can see to your left, he actually tried to eat him.

With dozens of shows each month, wrestlers can grow confused as to their surroundings or even their location. From time to time the jet lag (or van lag, as is more likely in your lower tiers of wrestling) can begin to take its toll on a body and mind. Even seasoned veterans, like Georgia's own Jerry Blackwell, can have trouble remembering exactly where they are, even if they're still in the United States. Watch below as Mr. Blackwell (the GOOD one) attempts to recall in which nation he should be champion... despite the name of the arena being prominently displayed next to him!

As interesting as that clip may be, the story of Jerry Blackwell may be even more fascinating. Blackwell left the world of wrestling, lost a few pounds, changed his name to Brad Leland and went on to greener pastures in Hollywood. Ok, I made that up, but the resemblance is eerie, and I'm fairly certain that I've never seen them in a room together. I hereby offer a reward... four cans of Tab Energy Drink to the first person that can show me a photograph of Brad Leland and Jerry Blackwell together, no photoshops!

Celebrity and wrestling go hand in hand. Whether it's Donald Trump or Kevin Federline, everyone wants a piece of the action. Unfortunately, these days our wrestling/celebrity interaction is largely contained within the ominous confines of the ring, but oh how I remember when stepping out of the ring and onto a set was as common as hearing church bells on Sunday. It was a simpler time, when our favorite famous folks eagerly awaited the opportunity to bring our favorite rasslin' folks on board.

Of all these pairings, perhaps none was more magical than The Ultimate Warrior saddling up with The Ultimate Drummer, Phil Collins.

Wrestling has changed over the years. Our Saturday Mornings no longer feature "Hulk Hogan's Rock & Wrestling," vitamins are going untaken, prayers unsaid. The Country boys are being messed with, no one is grabbing them cakes, and perhaps most disturbing of all giant, overweight rednecks from deepest, darkest Africa's talents are wasted. However, all hope is not lost. We can count on one thing in this crazy world, the Iron Sheik's cutting-edge commentary.

As I watched that video, hearing The Sheik explain his disappointment with Michael Richards, his hatred for David Letterman and his love for his photos of black people, I'm tempted to paraphrase Michael Moore's Oscar speech...

Shame on you, Mr. Richards. And any time that you've got Al Sharpton and The Iron Sheik against you, your time is up.

Thanks Sheik, thanks for caring.

2007-04-27T08:25:00.000-07:00

The NFL Draft is roughly 24 hours away... depending on when you're reading this.

We're closing in... the hullabaloo, mock drafts and speculation will all be put to rest at noon tomorrow when the teams of the NFL take to the stage to make decisions that shape the future of their organization. Nothing is ever certain on draft day, that's actually the only thing that you can really count on. However, here are a few pseudo-certainties that seem to apply to every draft class:

Someone that seems fool-proof right now will turn into a total bust.

Someone that you've never heard of will turn into a marquee player.

Your favorite team will make a decision that boggles the mind.

The Jets, Texans, Browns and Lions will either make ridiculously bad choices or have the good ones be forever plagued with injury (or the aforementioned "total bust").

The Patriots will use a combination of voodoo and virgin sacrifice to once again secure the best draft-class in the league.

Al Davis will wear a track suit.

With all of this in mind, I've chosen not to make predictions on the draft order this year. Last year's attempt, while correct in 9/10 top picks, was ridiculously out of order... only guessing correctly that Vince Young would head to The Titans.

This year I want to speculate on possible strategies, reasonable ideas and players that are currently flying under the radar. Mock Drafts are available everywhere, there's really very little that I could add to that type of thing. Especially when you consider that it'll be completely wrong and make me look like a jackass come Sunday.

First off, the sure-fire picks of the 2007 NFL Draft (at least some of which will fade into obscurity within 2-3 years). Obviously, you have Georgia Tech's Calvin Johnson. Not only is he arguably the best player in the draft, but one of the most exciting and explosive offensive players to come along in years.

From there you have your lesser superstars... Brady Quinn, Adrian Peterson and Jamarcus Russell. Of the above fantastic four, expect Johnson and Peterson to live up to their promise, and the Russell/Quinn QB fiasco to take root in whatever town chooses to spend entirely too much money on a golden-boy Quarterback.

Of course, this is nothing that hasn't been covered an nauseum by every sports writer, blogger and armchair NFL owner in America. The more interesting aspects of this years draft lie not in the players themselves, but rather the potential front office decisions leading to their signing. Of these owners, perhaps none is in a more interesting, if not enviable, position than Al Davis. With the 1st overall pick in the 2007 draft, Davis is in a position to address some of the numerous concerns that are plaguing the Raiders organization, or bargain for the pick.

The Raiders suffered through an abysmal 2006 season, plagued by an offense that lacked the firepower to overwhelm... well, anyone. At times it even seemed that the Kentucky Wildcats would have been capable of blanking the Raiders on any given Sunday. When your back is to the wall, what do you do? Do you draft a young quarterback in hopes that he will evolve into a team leader and the face of a franchise? Do you take the sure-fire receiver even when there's no one to actually get the ball to him? Do you work on an offensive line that, as of last season, was as effective as an open gate at the Kentucky Derby?

In my opinion, you do none of the above... or all of the above.

Oakland Draft Scenario #1:

For starters, approach the podium to announce that you have chosen, with the first overall pick, Calvin Johnson. From there, let it be known that you have secretly engineered a trade with the Tennessee Titans, sending Randy Moss to Nashville in trade for Tennessee's 1st round pick and some O-line help. The Titans need a big-target receiver, Randy wants to go and with PacMan Jones out of action, the court docket just isn't nearly exciting enough in music city.

With Tennessee's (now Oakland's) 19th pick in the draft, select Miami's Greg Olsen. Now, you've satisfied your need for some short and long range aeronautic firepower... but who's going to call the plays? With the 33rd pick in the draft, you select either Trent Edwards (Stanford) or Drew Stanton (Michigan State). Both are potential star quarterbacks, both with certain advantages and disadvantages. Judging by Lane Kiffin's particular breed of offense, Edwards may be a better fit, but Stanton seems to me like a better choice.

Finally, with the 65th pick in the draft, grow a pair and select Michael Bush from Louisville. A potential Heisman candidate and sure-fire 1st round selection before being sidelined with an injury early last season, Michael Bush is still Michael Bush. His stock has, of course, dropped substantially due to uncertainties with his health. However, using a 3rd round pick on the guy isn't exactly gambling away the house on a craps game... it's more like betting a week's pay on a good poker hand. It's important to point out that this will be the last opportunity to draft Bush, as you can be fairly certain that if Atlanta holds on to the 75th pick, Bobby Petrino will initiate a Cardinals reunion.

From that point forth, you make typically bad, Oaklandesque decisions.

Oakland Draft Scenario #2:

Trade the first pick to Tampa Bay. The Bucs want Calvin Johnson... they really, really want Calvin Johnson. The trick here is essentially naming your price. If you can convince Tampa that you fully intend on drafting and holding on to #21, then the price goes up and up and up. Although it would be unlikely, it wouldn't hurt to ask for the 4th 35th and 64th picks in exchange for the #1. Should you receive those picks, you're wiped out of any chance to pick up Greg Olsen, but you can still look for Jamarcus Russell at the 4th spot (after Detroit trades down and Cleveland takes either Brady Quinn or Adrian Peterson). After that, you now have the 33rd, 35th, 64th and 65th picks with which to play around. Having your QB needs met early, you can focus on looking for more help on the offensive line, backfield and receiving corps. Dwayne Jarret could still be around, along with Sidney Rice, a whole host of adequate tight ends and our ol' buddy, Michael Bush.

Of course, the draft doesn't live and die with Oakland. Detroit is looking to move some things around, Arizona is likely to stop at nothing (providing that Matlock isn't on) to acquire Joe Thomas and Cincinnati will be actively attempting to exclusively draft players from BYU, TCU and the often-overlooked Vatican City University. So, what of those players that might be flying under the radar? The guys that could potentially blow an organization wide open, but aren't interesting enough to warrant all the draft-day hype?

Well, as usual there are more than a few, and as usual I (along with everyone else in America) am still overlooking them. However, there are a few sure-shot "could be..." kinda guys that aren't getting the attention that they deserve.

1. Robert Meachem. It's somewhat ridiculous to count Meachem as an "under the radar" kind of guy, as he should be a guaranteed 1st round pick, but with Calvin Johnson Mania sweeping the nation, he's becoming a bit of an afterthought. For starters, he's fast. Robert Meachem blows by you faster than Jasmine St. Claire "on the set" in 1996. Add to that a fierce vertical leap and a 1,000 + yd, 11 TD season at Tennessee last year and you're looking at a serious offensive weapon.

2. Michael Bush. I've mentioned him twice already, so clearly I'm in his corner. As a policy, I try not to get behind anyone from the University of Louisville. It's one that I'm proud of, and one that I usually stick to. However, I do feel bad for Bush and his situation. And, emotions aside, I genuinely do feel that he'll be a valuable asset to any organization that actually takes the chance... do you hear that, Philadelphia? Bush has been cleared to play by his medical team, claims to feel 100%, and as a 3rd rounder is probably the best bargain in the draft. He may fall on his face in the NFL, but when you're afraid to gamble on a 3rd round pick, you may need to reconsider your line of work.

3. Jared Zabranksy. He's poised, confident and a proven leader. His accuracy and fearlessness aren't in question, and his speed spoke for itself at the scouting combine, as he either outright won or tied for first place in the quickness drills. Add to that a Wonderlic score of 36 (the best of all incoming quarterbacks) and a Fiesta Bowl MVP trophy and this guy has "breakout star" written all over him. To those that would suggest that Zabransky wasn't tested in the relatively weak WAC, keep in mind that it's that same "they didn't play anybody" mentality that stunned Sooners just a few months ago.

When it's all said and done, my brilliant plans and clever schemes will undoubtedly come crashing down around me. It's entirely possible that Jamarcus Russell and Brady Quinn will be the next Donovan McNabb and Carson Palmer. It's entirely possible that Michael Bush may never start a game and Jared Zabransky may find himself taking snaps in the CFL. But really, that's the wonderful part about the NFL Draft. The relative certainty in the face of an absolute guarantee that you are completely wrong.

Just like last year, the year before and every year to follow, we have no idea what's going to happen. We don't know who's going where, how they'll perform or, in some cases, if they'll even be drafted at all. No matter how much we like to think that we do, we honestly don't know a damn thing... except for one... Al Davis WILL wear a tracksuit.

2007-04-24T11:21:00.000-07:00

And now, the saga of one walrus and his bucket...

2007-04-23T10:28:00.000-07:00

My new phone has arrived!

The above image was taken with my kick-ass new Cingular 8125 Pocket PC. I am, officially, tickled to death. The view you're seeing is, well, pretty much what I see right now. So, now you can see me seeing you seeing me!

For a lengthy explanation of how my new phone came to me, read below.

2007-04-23T05:21:00.000-07:00

Cory: 1. Cingular: 0

I'm going to share with you an email that I sent to Kevin Hall late last week. He enjoyed it enough to request that yours truly post the text on my blog, for all to see. Here's the back story...

My friend John recently acquired a Cingular 8125 telephone, a pocket PC with all the bells and whistles that any man could ask for. Noticing that my Cingluar contract was on the verge of allowing for an upgrade, I took it upon myself to call the Cingular (or, should I say, NEW AT&T WIRELESS!) people and request an early upgrade, allowing me to take advantage of the offer on the website (super phone, only 80 bucks!).

Like dealing with any major corporation, it was like pulling teeth. However, I sucked it up and battled on, inspired by a story from just a couple of weeks ago. The aforementioned Kevin Hall had been trapped by a screwy computer system and subsequently received lackluster tickets to an upcoming show through the Ticketmaster website. After yelling and screaming for nearly half an hour, he actually managed to receive a refund... from TICKETMASTER. My thoughts were that if someone like us, a regular Joe, can be issued a refund from the most heartless of organizations (seriously, Ticketmaster & Enron are two sides of the same coin), then surely I could do the same. Below is the unedited text of my email to Kevin describing the situation... and a neat picture of the phone in question!

Please forgive the lateness of my reply, I've been at war with Cingular.

Here's a synopsis of the last hour and a half of my life.

Note: There were times that I thought about giving up, but then I'd remember,
"Kevin got a refund from Ticketmaster... you can do this Cory, just keep at
it!"

John Estep sends me a message, letting me know about the amazing new bells and
whistles associated with his new phone. It's powered by Microsoft, has a touch
screen, has a 1.3 megapixel camera, and best of all, built-in wifi connection
with qwerty keyboard. As I think about it, it may be the same phone that you
were telling me Katie had. It's online for 80 bucks, refurbished with a 2-year
contract.

I check my contract... it expires in two months. Now, part of me is just that
kid that wants his toy now, not on his birthday, but part of me is the grown-up
bargain hunter that fears that this offer may not be around in two months. I
then consult bargain-guru, Nathan Johnson.

Nathan informs me that he went on a similar quest for this phone, and with a
little persistence was given the upgrade right now. Inspired, I go to the
phones.

I find myself talking to a very dismissive customer service rep who informs me
that altering the contracts in any way is simply impossible. I tell her that
my friend had done it just this morning, to which she says, "well, you'll need
to talk to your friend about that, there must be more to it." I guess she
assumed that I'd hang up, do so and then call her back... but through the
wonders of messenger I was able to say, "ok, hold on... clickclickclick...
nope, he says he just spoke to a manager and they took care of it."

She puts me to a manager, who doesn't seem too interested in helping me. He
informs me that he can do the upgrade right now, but it's going to require me
purchasing the 180 dollar, new version. Nope, absolutely no way. We battle
back and forth, and I mean we really do battle. He's saying, "Sir, if you will
just LET ME FINISH!" and I'm coming back with, "You're lying to me about
warranties, I'm not an idiot, I know that the refurbished phones come with the
same 12 month warranty as the new ones, I KNOW THAT, you're LYING!"

(note, he was trying to tell me that they could only authorize the new phone
because the refurb didn't come with a warranty)

Finally, in a huff, I just say, "look, it's clear that you CAN alter the
contract, you've just told me that. you can upgrade my phone right now if i
buy the more expensive model. so really, this just comes down to you wanting
to get another hundred dollars out of me."

Then he just begins rambling on about how it's really the call of the manager
above him and that he has nothing to do with the offer I've been given. I
demand to speak to HIS supervisor. He puts me on hold. Soon he returns with
his supervisor on the other line, at which point I inform him that my counter
offer is this: My contract with Cingular runs through July. You can give me
the refurbished phone right now, at the 80 dollar on-line price and keep my
business for two years, or you can play me like a fool and keep my business for
two months. It's that simple."

He then tells me that his boss would like to suggest something. I tell him
I'd like to speak to her. He says, "She'd rather just have us work it out, I
have her on the other line, I'm just going to relay messages between the two of
you." I snicker and say, "ok, tell her what I told you."

A few seconds pass and he comes back... this makes it all worthwhile.

"Sir, my supervisor has offered to give your phone upgrade status right now,
allowing you to go online and purchase WHATEVER phone that you want, provided
that you'll just stop all of this."

I cackle with laughter and tell him, "please tell her that I accept."

I went online, my upgrade status was changed, and BOOM... the refurbished
Cingular 8125 is on the way to my house as we speak.

2007-04-16T05:00:00.000-07:00

So, here’s a question:

How early in a band’s career is it acceptable to start placing them among the greatest of all time? For those folks that take music very seriously, talking about the best ever is a pretty touchy matter. Including bands that haven’t yet proven themselves is as dangerous of territory as omitting bands that may have changed the face of modern music (which is why my relative distaste for both Led Zeppelin and The Beatles often gets me into trouble).

Of course, I’m not talking about music in general. I’m not bumping Beethoven or Bach out of any top ten lists. I’m talking about music that’s actually GOOD… pop music. Feel free to lob tomatoes my way, but I’d rather listen to Paul’s Boutique than some classical masterpiece… and so would you, admit it. As much fun as a night in the park with the Boston Pops may be, it’s no substitute for shakin’ your booty… it’s just not.

So, with that in mind, we have to look at some of the acts that are established, top 20 bands of all time material. Acts that, whether you love them or hate them, it’s nearly impossible to compile any sort of realistic list without including. I don’t like several of these bands, but I’m also not going to deny their impact on the world of music. Frankly, I don’t think much of Joe Montana, but I’m not going to talk about the best NFL Quarterbacks without mentioning his name.

So, first and foremost you’ve got The Beatles. From there you’re forced to bring up The Rolling Stones, The Who, The Beach Boys, Led Zeppelin and (as much as it makes me want to light a cigarette with a shotgun) Nirvana. However, once you’ve dropped those names the list tends to dissolve into an argument, full to the brim with your Radioheads, Velvet Undergrounds, Public Enemies and to a lesser degree, your Motorheads.

Best bands ever are as different as they are plentiful, but much like darling little snowflakes, no two are exactly the same. I’m sure that if enough research was done, we’d find more than two that were exactly the same, but I’m also sure that if we actually collected every snowflake in history we’d find a couple of twins as well (thanks Lewis Black). Well thought out lists aren’t just mash-ups of popular and influential bands, but rather bands that really affected music in general and shaped the type of music that you enjoy on a personal level.

For example, any list that I make is going to include Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band. The Boss single handedly attempted to keep rock & roll alive in a decade so dreadfully obsessed with generic synth and brightly colored hair that it made a Sasha and John Digiweed show look like turn of the century mining camp. I enjoy songs about working people, real life and struggle built on the ideas of redemption and hope… so naturally, I have Springsteen to thank for influencing a generation or two and keeping that flickering flame alive.

On the flip-side, I couldn’t care less about Yellow Submarines or Hey, Hey Mammas, so you’ll never find The Beatles or Led Zeppelin on one of my lists. Now, before you say it, I already know what’s coming. “B… B… But Cory, The Beatles and Led Zeppelin influenced the bands that you have on your list. Without those guys, you’d never have some of your favorite bands!” You’re right! Come by the house one day and I’ll give you a prize! To those bands, thanks; I’m very grateful to you for helping shape the music that I love. But if we’re all going to go back to the roots of the music that we hold so dear, then I fully expect to hear people regularly name-dropping Native-American tribal chants, the aforementioned Beethoven and the guy that invented the guitar… because without those guys, we’d never have music at all.

Anyway, I’m rambling. After all of that gas-baggery, we’ll go back to the original question. How soon is too soon to suggest that a band deserves a place among the greatest artists in history?

To put it bluntly, is The Arcade Fire one of the best bands to ever step on a stage?

We’re talking about a band with two albums and an EP. We’re talking about a band that, this time two years ago, was relatively unknown… we’re also talking about a band that since then has opened for U2, headlined festivals across the world, scored a #2 spot on the Billboard Chart (what!?) and a band that sold out three shows in Chicago in less than 30 minutes. We’re talking about a band that is regularly considered to be the best in the world, a band that’s admirers span all walks of life, and incidentally include Lou Reed, David Bowie, Bono, every rock critic in the world and probably Jesus. Granted, that last one really isn’t fair, as Jesus loves us all… except for maybe Stryper.

It still doesn’t seem right to raise someone so new to such a level, to include a relatively untested band in an arena of legitimate rock gladiators. But, let’s really think about this. Most people would feel relatively comfortable including both The Velvet Underground and The Sex Pistols on a “best ever” list. However, it should be pointed out that The Sex Pistols make it in on the strength of only one album, and The Velvets on five (but, c’mon, really, it’s just two). Based on that precedent, The Arcade Fire are a perfectly comfortable pick.

I dunno… it’s certainly something to wrestle with. Not just because a band has come around to challenge music in just a couple of short years, but because music should always be challenged and those that do deserve some kind of reward. I guess you should ask yourself, if every member of The Arcade Fire were simultaneously gunned down tomorrow, would they rocket to legendary status immediately? If so, then surely they already belonged there… after all, death doesn’t improve the music, does it?

And now, just because I’m arrogant enough to think that you’d actually care… my top 20 bands (or artists) of all time, in no particular order.

Note: The list is in no particular order because it may be completely different tomorrow, and when I narrow the list to 20, they’re really all my “favorite band,” depending on how many beers I’ve had and what mood I’m in.

The Beach Boys

Bruce Springsteen & The E Street Band

The Smiths

Loretta Lynn

The Wu-Tang Clan (I know it’s a cop-out, but it’s a clever way to include about 5,000 people)

The Velvet Underground

The Arcade Fire

Oasis

The Sex Pistols

Tom Waits

The Pogues

NWA (thanks again, hip-hop supergroups!)

Guns N’ Roses

Paul Simon

The New York Dolls

Notorious BIG

Prince

REM

The Hold Steady

The Grateful Dead

2007-04-12T10:53:00.000-07:00

The Lollapalooza lineup is upon us!

... and I'm THIS excited!

Create Your Own PaloozaHead - Visit Lollapalooza.com

The complete lineup is right here.

The idea of seeing Daft Punk in a wide open park, under the Chicago Skyline after nightfall is almost too much to comprehend. Just in case you're wondering why... take a look at the show from Coachella last year.

2007-04-09T08:41:00.000-07:00

Bruce Springsteen + The Hold Steady + Badly Drawn Boy = All of my dreams coming true.

I can't help but be happy that I missed this show, as there's absolutely no way that I could have possibly survived it.

2007-03-25T17:07:00.000-07:00

Rock music, by its very nature, is cyclical. Since the days of Perry Como, people have been actively attempting to not only find something better, but to do so while smashing to pieces the conventions of those that came before them. Certainly we would have never seen Elvis Presley had it not been for Ike Turner and Little Richard, nor the Beatles without Elvis Presley. The Beach Boys would never have created Pet Sounds without the springboard that was Sgt. Pepper’s and punk rock simply couldn’t have happened without The Velvet Underground.

There is a distinct butterfly effect in the world of rock music, one that echoes for better or for worse for decades to come. Recently we are forced to look back upon the days of Nirvana, and the rest of the “Grunge” scene, with a parallel sense of admiration and disdain, as “alternative” music has evolved into utter trash like Nickelback and My Chemical Romance. Bands like Pearl Jam and Rage Against the Machine have either failed to impress or completely disbanded, as “alternative” veterans like Radiohead and Green Day continue to make shockingly brilliant records, despite the incomprehensibility of ever having been categorized in the same genre to begin with.

However, there is one band that deserves immeasurable credit for giving birth to the world of music as we know it. A band that may not have shattered your perception or reinvented the wheel, but one that nonetheless laid the groundwork for a musical revolution… Guns. N. Roses.

Just in case I need to spell it out, Nirvana would never have happened had it not been for Guns N’ Roses. I don’t even like Nirvana, but I realize that ignoring their contribution to music would immediately result in an attack from the Emo-Kid SWAT Team… which I think is primarily a well-armed, highly trained organization of sad teenagers with swoopy hairdos and chain wallets.

I can certainly understand your immediate recoil. G N’ Effin’ R aren’t exactly remembered as pioneers in their field, but rather as a collection of screeching yahoos in leather pants and top hats. However, taking a look at what the band accomplished, one that delves slightly deeper than the cosmetic aspects of arena rock, shows a collection of inventive, exciting musicians toying with the personification of “cock-rock” in an era so desperately in need of such.

Need proof?

Well, the two biggest singles in America in August of 1987 (the month and year in which we, as a people, received Appetite For Destruction) were Whitney Houston’s “Didn’t We Almost Have It All” and Madonna’s “Who’s That Girl.” Now, I hate to speak ill of the coke-addicted, kaballah fanatics of yesteryear, but quite frankly, neither of these particular jams paved the way for… well… anything. Perhaps we can thank them for the Britney Spears catalogue and the lesser works of Christina Aguilera, but essentially they were as useless as mittens on a wolverine.

So, we were given a sterling example of the face of rock to come. One that simultaneously channeled the spirits of Led Zeppelin, The Stooges and eventually Jim Steinman while supporting the leather-clad, cock-sure attitude of Mick Jagger. A band that seemed to triumphantly throttle you while assuring you that what they were doing was “all for the best.” My friend Zach used to toss about a remarkable parable that may explain rock and roll in a way that I can’t. Please, indulge me…

“Y’see, Paul McCartney is that guy that shows up at your house with flowers and candy. He asks your daughter out, brings her home on time and with her virtue in tact. Mick Jagger shows up a little late, some whiskey on his breath and shags her in the back seat of his car. Eric Burdon sneaks her out through her bedroom window, takes her to a dirty basement and violates her under a stark-naked lightbulb… you just hope you see her again.”

That’s most certainly true, but by that logic, Guns N’ Roses would stumble upon Eric Burdon’s leftovers, gang-rape them and then write an epic masterpiece about the entire ordeal. Seriously, these guys made parents uncomfortable.

But, all orchestration and pseudo-sexual assault aside, the nastiest band in the world has come back. Granted, it’s the nastiest band in the world, minus the entire band… but hell, at least they’re back.

There were three major issues that I had with the return of Guns N’ Roses. As a fan, they were remarkably important, and they go this way, the ol’ 1-2-3:

Will the songs suffer without Izzy?
Is Axl’s voice up to snuff
Can anyone ever sound like Slash?

The answers are as follows:

Unfortunately, I can’t do that.

Chinese Democracy is a mediocre response to an age-old question. Unfortunately, the age-old question isn’t some sort of hyper-literate, Chaucer-esque figuration, but rather a literal age-old question… the answer to the now age-old question of whatever the hell happened to Guns N’ Roses. The album is thoroughly lackluster, exhibiting moments of true greatness and then submerging them in a cesspool of nu-metal hooks and horrendous drum-machine loops.

To say that it’s terrible is wrong. Compared to recent outputs by “hard rock” outfits, Chinese Democracy is a masterpiece. However, for a band like Guns N’ Roses, operating with nearly a decade of studio time, Chinese Democracy not only falls short but dances very carefully on the line of embarrassing.

The tracks sound eerily similar to outtakes from the Use Your Illustion albums, withou the overwhelming testosterone that managed to lie dormant underneath the epic orchestral grandeur. The record isn't without snarl, as you can feel the nearly palpable raw anger that made past G N' R efforts so specatcular, unfortunately those moments come few and far between as we are treated to Axl's pissy mid-life crisis.

I saw the band recently in Huntington, WV. The crowd erupted into absolute bedlam during the modern renditions of the classic G N’ R songs, but sat quietly as the new material poured through the amphitheater. Perhaps that says it all. Modern day Guns N’ Roses has become nothing more than a glorified cover band, arguably the greatest one on Earth. However, Guns N’ Roses now sucks in the same way that Velvet Revolver sucks.

If Andre and Big Boi have taught us anything, let it be that “the whole is greater than the sum of its individual parts.”

2007-03-23T05:09:00.000-07:00

How quickly we forget...

What would you do if you had the chance to get behind a coach with a .760 winning percentage, ten consecutive NCAA Tournament appearances and five SEC Tournament victories? What if that coach also happened to be named NCAA Coach of the year twice in ten years, won a national championship and was ranked in the top ten six out of ten years? Even still, what if a coach with all of those accomplishments also happened to become one of only five coaches in history to win 365 games in fifteen years or less (with the others being insignificant guys like Roy Williams, Nolan Richardson, Denny Crum and Jim Boeheim)?

Well, if you were the University of Kentucky, you'd fire him... or should I say, "encourage him to pursue other options."

The University of Kentucky lost something truly special yesterday, as Orlando "Tubby" Smith hopped a plane and headed off to greener pastures in Minnesota. In a way, I'm happy to see the guy leave. He deserves considerably better than we gave him, and I'm fairly certain that he'll get just that at the helm of the Golden Gophers. He stepped into the shadows of one of the (if not THE) most popular coaches in the history of an organization as storied as the sport itself. He brought success, championships and most importantly, class to a program that all too often branded him failure.

Ask most Kentucky fans about Eddie Sutton and you'll likely get a shrug. He isn't necessarily remembered fondly, but despite never winning a title, coaching mediocre squads at best and plunging the program into a dark era of suspensions and shame, most Kentucky fans reserve the ire that should certainly be targeted his way for Tubby. You have to ask why?

Well, one obvious answer lies in the fact that Tubby had one characteristic that no other UK Coach has possessed... Tubby was black. Most people will be quick to tell you that their disdain for Smith had nothing whatsoever to do with his race, but rather the way he coached basketball. Fine, if you genuinely dislike the way Tubby coached his team, then you're certainly entitled to that opinion. However, watching game after game of Smith's tenure and hearing the phrase "Goddamned Nig**r Coach" not only from time to time but multiple times in each game, even when he was WINNING, tells a different story.

All this without pointing out that the man attempted to lead a team who's fans, spoiled and cranky, still idolize one of the game's most notorious racists, Adolph Rupp. One of the things I've always found most impressive about Smith was his character, something that he surely had in spades as he called home an arena named after a man that wouldn't have given him the time of day based solely on his skin color. To step out on the court of Rupp Arena each night and give a program, one that is actively turning its nose up into the air, everything you have night after night is not only indicative of the kind of man that Tubby Smith was, but the kind of person that we should all strive to be.

In the wake of his departure, names of his replacement are flying around like free samples in a taffy factory. We've all heard the list... names ranging from Tom Izzo to John Calipari, Tom Crean to Billy Donovan and my personal favorite duo, Travis Ford to Rick Pitino. Face it, Kentucky has painted itself into a corner previously only seen by the Oakland Raiders organization. Who would want to come here? Smith's statistics put him at the very top of the coaching talent in the NCAA, but despite that he just wasn't good enough to coach the Wildcats. With a fickle-at-best fan base, expectations that wouldn't have been satisfied by Phil Jackson's run in Chicago and a spineless athletic director Kentucky has hardly provided an inviting home to anyone brave enough to take the job.

Personally, I'd only be happy with three active NCAA coaches...

1. Bobby Knight: Why Knight? Well, aside from being arguably the greatest college basketball coach in history, he has the attitude to shrug off the endless stream of idiots calling in to the Joe B. & Denny Show or the Chris Cross Applesauce Hour (or whatever that dreadful excuse for dreadful radio happens to be). Knight would simply explain to the Big Blue Nation that he was the boss and if they didn't like it, they could politely kiss his ass... something Kentucky is in dire need of.

2. Bruce Pearl: Pearl has a habit of taking teams further than anyone could imagine and reigns over the court like a combination of General George S. Patton and, well, Tubby Smith. He's exciting, with a specific brand of basketball that is not only difficult to defend but hard to look away from. As far as attitude goes, see number 1 on this list.

3. Pokey Chatman: 90-14 as a head coach, two SEC titles and two Final Fours in three years. Chatman has proven herself to be one of the premiere women's coaches in America, and perhaps that bastion of diversity that is the University of Kentucky could break down some barriers. Come on guys, you know that you want to hire a woman... a lesbian... a black lesbian. Let's go ahead and finish off the last lingering pieces of Adolph Rupp by bringing in a black lesbian as our new head coach, after all, our dislike for Tubby had NOTHING to do with his race, right?

As far as new coaches go, unless one of those three makes the cut (and I assure you, they won't), I'll be tempted to cheer against Kentucky next season. Not because I don't love the team anymore, but because the Fairweather Johnsons of our state need a big taste of what life can be like in a post-Tubby era. However, there is one hire that would cause me to desert the C-A-T-S, CATS CATS CATS forever...

Rick Pitino.

I'm going on record right now. If you feel the need, save this text in a folder somewhere and feel free to hold me to it. If somehow, some way, Rick Pitino returns to the University of Kentucky I will not only cheer against them next year, but certainly for every year in which he is in charge... maybe forever. If Rick Pitino is allowed to skulk back into Lexington after flipping the bird to the city that made him a superstar ten years ago I'll be in search of a new favorite team, and I think I know who that team might be...

Write it down, folks. If Rick Pitino's Wildcats hit the court next year I will immediately rush out and buy caps, shirts, jerseys, shorts, and blankets bearing the logo of the Duke Blue Devils. Hell, I may even get a tattoo. I will officially have two new favorite college teams, Duke and whomever happens to be playing Kentucky.

I'm tired of living in the past. I'm tired of the fickle nature, jealousy, pettiness and subtle (and often blatant) bigotry associated with this program. If you need any evidence as to whether or not Kentucky loves a white boy more than life itself, if SOMEHOW you've missed out on this, let me remind you that in this state we still worship Richie Farmer, Travis Ford and to a lesser degree, Patrick Sparks. Ford wasn't bad, but judging by his NBA career, or should I say, lack thereof, he certainly wasn't the hero that he was made out to be. Patrick Sparks, a man that you could always count on to "take the shot" even if he was guarded by Manute Bol and standing in the locker room, should still makes you cringe. And as far as Richie Farmer goes... well, let me share two radio stories that explain exactly how Kentucky fans view this mediocre-at-best Wildcat legend.

Caller: Yeah, uh, I was just wonderin'... if you could pick between a team of FIVE Richie Farmers versus FIVE Michael Jordans, which one would you pick?

Host: Well, Richie was a great player, but I think I'd have to go with the Jordans.

Caller: See, I don't think so... you gotta remember, the five Richies would play as a team!

And then this story, from just yesterday that didn't even involve an idiotic caller, but rather people who are PAID by someone to share their opinions...

Host 1: Coming up later in the hour, we'll have Richie Farmer on here to talk Sweet Sixteen basketball and we'll get his thoughts on the departure of Tubby Smith.

Host 2: Richie didn't even play for Tubby, though.

Host 1: Yeah, but I'm sure he'll have some thoughts on the subject.

Host 2: We oughta ask Richie, would you rather be GOVERNOR or HEAD COACH of the CATS!?

You know what, you're right. Richie Farmer is a God among men. Richie Farmer is the most powerful force in human history. Hell with it, as far as I'm concerned, Lil' Richie should be both Governor AND Coach! He can do it all!

Tubby, believe it or not, many of us are really going to miss you. You gave us all you had and we threw it in your face. I sincerely apologize on behalf of so, so many of the slack-jawed yahoos of this state that would never and will never admit that having you around for the last ten years has been a wonderful blessing for the program. I wish you all the best in Minnesota, and I can assure you that I won't be the only resident of the Commonwealth cheering for the Gophers next year.

Thanks for everything, Tubb. You'll be missed.

2007-03-19T08:51:00.000-07:00

There was a reason that mankind invented the internet... that reason was Youtube.

Thanks to Youtube (and the work of Jeff and Derek) I now present to you two of the worst things ever committed to film.

It's hard to decide which is worse, as they're both equally bad on completely different levels. I'll let you be the judge.

Is it Video Games?

Or is it Mean Gene?

... you be the judge

2007-03-16T08:55:00.000-07:00

I know that it's been ages since I updated this thing, my apologies. I've been on safari for the last couple of weeks, contracted malaria and am on my way to recovery.

Ok, that's just a lie... I'm lazy.

Anyway, I wanted to share this with the world. It so thoroughly rides the line between funny and depressing that I may never recover from this laughing/crying fit.

Judge for yourself:

Eighties WWF Star's False Teeth Come Out During Match
03/11/2007 by Ryan Clark

Jake "The Snake" Roberts had his false teeth come out of his mouth during a recent wrestling match with Casey Thompson at an indie show on 3/3 in Davie, Florida.

Roberts' appearance during the match was quite embarrassing. Roberts had a hard time getting up after going down, not to mention that he looked really out of shape. He looked disoriented in the ring at times as well. In regards to his teeth, Thompson delivered a forearm to Roberts while he was tied up on the ropes and his false teeth flew out of his mouth. The ref then kicked the teeth to the corner so that they wouldn't get stepped on. A security guard then grabbed them and gave them to Roberts, who then lodged them back into his mouth. Unfortunately, they didn't seem to fit correctly as Roberts may have also gotten a swollen jaw from the forearm.

After the show, Roberts told people at his gimmick table to always brush their teeth so that they don't lose them when they get older.

2007-02-22T07:24:00.000-08:00

But... What Does Larry King Think?

The other day I found myself in Wal-Mart. Before you pile on the hypocrisy bandwagon and point out that I shouldn't have been in Wal-Mart, let me point out that I had a gift card, so the money was already spent and there's no redeeming such things for cash.

Anyway, while walking through the store I came across a rather large display in the electronics department. In this display I found several copies of the recently released "School For Scoundrels" on DVD. On this DVD I noticed a quote that seemed a bit odd, and as the seconds ticked by, managed to irritate the hell out of me.

See for yourself...

In case you somehow missed it, the quote reads: Bad Santa Meets Napoleon Dynamite!

Can anyone tell me how that's possible? I haven't seen the movie, so maybe I'm not qualified to pass judgment, but it seems to me that it would be completely impossible for this film to actually be what would happen if those two films made sweet love and produced an obscenity laden, kooky, Mormon-friendly comedy. If that happens to be the case, I'd love to see it. But guess what, it probably isn't the case.

I mean, Starship Troopers featured Rue McLanahan and Michael Ironside, but you wouldn't say it was "Mamma's Family meets Jo Jo Dancer, Your Life Is Waiting."

What I find most ridiculous (and borderline insulting) about this quote is that the marketing department actually thought that people would snatch up copies based on the fact that they enjoyed the other two films. Although, what may be most disturbing is the realization that it will actually work.

My initial thoughts were, "My God, that's the laziest review I've ever seen," until I noticed to whom it was attributed. Rolling Stone? Surely this couldn't be a Peter Travers review? I don't always agree with the guy, but I can't see him actually throwing some schlock like that out there.

Haha, Santa shot Napoleon in the crotch! Hilarity!

Guess what... he didn't.

The actual review, seen here, never features that quote... not even close. It mentions the other two films, but never in that way. Nice work guys, way to make someone look like a hack... someone that actually was kind enough to give you a three-star review.

As I searched for the box image for this entry, I found something interesting on Amazon.com. Amazon always likes to suggest other titles to the buyer, things that you might enjoy based on the shopping patterns of other customers. So, if I'm going to buy up a copy of School For Scoundrels, I should also just go ahead and order the following:

In case that's difficult to read (I realize that the resolution isn't the best), I'm also encouraged to buy The Departed, Flags of Our Fathers, Hollywoodland and The Prestige.

I have my doubts as to whether or not those films are really attracting a large percent of the same viewing audience.

Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe School For Scoundrels belongs in the same category as these highly acclaimed, top ten of the year type titles. Perhaps I should give it a chance. Oh, and by the way, if you haven't seen The Departed, be sure to check it out, it's like "Titanic Meets Mars Attacks!"

2007-02-16T10:19:00.000-08:00

Ahh, nostalgia.

Whether it’s a song, a movie or just something seemingly insignificant, dozens of things can make us think of our youth. So, as I sat here a few minutes ago, thinking of my youth, I was reminded of one of the cornerstones of growing up… baseball cards.

We all had them. We’d go through the packs, sorting out the keepers and tossing aside those cards that seemed to be absolutely everywhere (Oil Can Boyd, we hardly knew ye). As I grow older, I’ve come to realize that many of the “sure bet” cards that were going to provide me a comfortable retirement are now worth a fraction of what I actually paid for them in the year of their release. However, I’ve also discovered that you can find even more joy in the sad little cards that were tossed out before you could even break down the brick of bubblegum that you were hopelessly trying to chew.

For example, take this little winner from Cleveland Indian, Rod Nichols.

Is it the glasses, the collar or an enchanting mix of both that conjures up memories of yesteryear? Perhaps it’s the comfort in knowing that somewhere, at some time, for just a moment, this actually looked cool. Or not… after all, it IS Cleveland.

Or maybe it’s more of the dazed, glassy look in the eyes of Seattle’s Karl Best that best explains how it feels to search through these old cards.

A mixture of wonder, whimsy and methamphetamine that seems to defy verbal explanation.

If there’s one thing that we can all agree on, it’s the era’s refusal to accept the fact that the uniforms taking the field each day were, at best, fashion mistakes. San Diego, Houston and Chicago took the torch with gusto, blessing us with fashion choices that defied both reason and good taste. However, no organization ever took a more defiant stance against the world of fashion than the mighty Pittsburgh Pirates.

From the blinding yellow shirts to the incomprehensibly striped shoeboxes on their heads, the Pirates knocked fashion out of the park, rounding third and sliding into our hearts. Just take a look at these dashing gentlemen:

Mike Brown shows us that Jim McMahon wasn’t the only superstar to make sunglasses look THIS good.

Let’s all take a minute to thank Enrique Romo for bringing Yetti fashion to the masses.

And without the bold fashion choices of Lee Tunnel and Jim Leyland, stovepipe headwear may have been lost to the ravages of time… Abraham who!?

Of course, not every one of these superstars went on to the hall of fame, and before you say it, I’m aware of what a crime that truly is. Luckily, for Moose Haas and Ron Davis, Hollywood came calling. It was in the surprise smash-hit, Napoleon Dynamite, that Haas and Davis made their mark as they were cast as Uncle Rico and Napoleon, respectively.

Sadly, greener pastures did not lie ahead for some of our forgotten cardboard heroes. As they became relegated to the nickel bin at the card shop, their stats along with their personalities faded from our collective consciousness. Many baseball stars of the past used the card as a way to tell us something personal about themselves, opting out of the traditional poses and instead saying, “Hey world, this is who I am!”

Without these cards, we may never know that from time to time Willie McGee finds himself thoroughly disgusted.

We would never have seen the side of Sammy Stewart that says, “I’m lovin’ life!”

I would have grossly underestimated what a lady killer T.R. Bryden really is

… or ever known that Glenn Hubbard really, really likes snakes.

Sadly, we’re most likely destined to travel through our remaining years, never really knowing what happened to many of these guys. Some were bumped back down the minors, some blew out a knee and some probably own auto dealerships in their home town. I’d imagine that more than a few made a run for congress, maybe a few overdosed on one particular drug or another. Most likely they’re probably googling themselves right now and telling their children about their glory days in the big leagues.

However, I prefer to believe something more mysterious happened.

I noticed a common thread in many of the lowly cards of the past… something disturbing. It appears that, as their careers wound down (many before they actually began), they all seemed to notice something looming in the sky.

I can see it now. Just as the predetermined “bottom rung” of baseball stars arrived for their photo shoot, an alien craft descended from the sky. With a flash of light and an otherworldly noise, these players were taken on board and whisked away.

The ship would sail out of sight, leaving only the last images of these men, forever captured as a warning to future generations of "less than major" major leaguers.

Later, we would all discover that this was part of an intergalactic trade between the Alien League and Major League Baseball. In trade for some of our less talented players (still vastly superior to their alien counterparts), the aliens would make various concessions regarding their eventual invasion of the Earth.

We have these brave men to thank for our freedom as humans, and I for one would like to suggest a monument in Washington to commemorate their sacrifice… even if Al Cowens did refuse to go quietly.

Our youth has passed us by, and our memories of the boys of summer are fading as quickly as that Ken Griffey Jr. rookie card that you thought would be worth something some day so you spent all that damned money that you earned mowing lawns all freakin' summer on ONE CARD only to find out that it's worth less than a gallon of gas in Venezuela 15 years later... not that I'd know or anything. If you ever find yourself with a few moments to kill, climb into the attic and drag out your old baseball cards. After all, that old Biff Pocoroba card may not be worth much at the card shop…

… but the memories are more precious than gold.

Except maybe for the Ken Griffey Jr. 1989 Upper Deck rookie card... sonofabitch.

2007-02-16T05:58:00.000-08:00

Dear Lord, thank you for Georgia.

If the debate over evolution is just entirely too grounded in reality for your tastes, allow me to introduce to you Georgia State Representative, Ben Bridges.

Rep. Bridges would like you to know that aside from the obviously false teachings of evolution, you should also be aware that secular progressives are teaching your children a whole host of other anti-Christian "facts."

For example, did you know that schools are indoctrinating our kids with such liberal lies as "the earth orbits the sun" and "the earth rotates on its axis?"

These monsters will not rest until they've destroyed the minds of our youth! Thank God we have patriots like Ben Bridges to show us the way.

2007-02-07T11:57:00.000-08:00

At the request of Brinton, I now post for you some Doonesbury.

Brinton holds tightly to a rule that no images shall be posted on his blog that he didn't personally create. So, upon finding this particular gem he decided to enlist some help in an effort to get it out to the masses.

Enjoy (click to pop larger).

2007-02-02T05:17:00.000-08:00

If you're working for the Federal Minimum Wage, it's time to start lighting your cigars with 100 dollar bills!

It's official, H.R. 2 has passed the United States Senate with a vote of 88-8 (with four overpaid tax vacuums refusing to vote). With this increase the working poor in America will now make roughly the same amount of money that they did during the Johnson Administration... hooray!

Any raise in minimum wage is a good thing for working poor families in America, don't get me wrong. However, increasing the pay of working people at the lowest rung of our economic system from $5.15 to $7.25 an hour over a period of three years is hardly going to elevate these people into positions of great wealth... or positions of "getting by." Congress will undoubtedly pat themselves on the back and wallow in their own ego as they throw a bone to the constituents living in their own back yards, well, the back yards just outside of the gate, razor wire, vicious dogs and armed guards protecting their own back yard.

The working poor in this country deserve to be treated with respect. These aren't people asking for a handout, these are people waking up every morning to do thankless jobs that, whether you like it or not, keep our country moving. If for one week the entire minimum wage workforce in this country decided to simultaneously go on strike, this nation would be positively paralyzed. The implications would be far-reaching and the consequences to our way of life would be immediately apparent. So, if these people make up such an important demographic, why are they largely ignored by our government?

Well, they're too poor to hire lobbyists.

Globally, the issues surrounding the well-being of the working poor have been addressed in many different ways. The most effective of these seems to be the system implemented the the Northern European grouping of Scandinavian countries. In these countries the minimum wage is based on collective agreements that take into account the cost of living in the area, average salary and other factors to come to an amount that, while certainly no great shakes, allows the residents of the nation in question to live above the poverty line.

In the graph above you'll notice the often shocking rates of child poverty in the United States in comparison to those in much of Europe. I find it amazing that in this "Christian Nation" we will allow our children to go to sleep hungry at a considerably higher rate than those in "Godless Europe."

When it's all put out there on the table, it really is the kids that are of the highest concern. Many families in the United States work two and three jobs just to stay above water, while many others simply do not have the capacity to do so. With soaring childcare costs, no universal health care and a minimum wage that has steadily dropped (with slight peaks during the Clinton Administration) since 1980 it becomes increasingly difficult to understand why many in these situations even chose to GO to work.

Often opponents of minimum wage increases are also the most vehement opponents of our current welfare system. However, take a minute to think about this:

Even with the proposed increase in the minimum wage, recipients will be "handsomely" paid around $290 per week... gross. A single mother working a forty-hour work week will be forced to make ends meet on resources so limited that many of us couldn't even imagine how it could be done. Upon entering the work force (in this golden age for the working poor) this same single mother would have childcare costs amounting to (based on the national average) $111 per week. Even in extremely low "cost of living" areas, it would be remarkably difficult to find an apartment, suitable for a child, for less than $100 per week. Simply keeping a minimum of the utilities running (water, heat, electricity... this doesn't factor in telephones, cable, etc) is going to be $120-$150 monthly at the absolute least.

So, based on a weekly GROSS income of $290, a single working mother would be expected to shell out a low average of around $248.50 each week just to keep going. This, of course, isn't counting expenses like gasoline, car payments, clothing, food or god forbid, insurance.

Faced with these alternatives, what exactly would be someone's motivation to "get off welfare" and enter the workforce? Get up each morning and work a miserable, thankless job while spending less time with your children and cutting off your resources at the knees hardly seems like a wise decision for a family. Even more upsetting is that this great nation forces families to make decisions like this every day.

Although the Democrats' proposal is a step in the right direction, it's still miles away from reaching the point where we should be. The people of the United States deserve better than this. If you're willing to get up every day and head out to a job that you hate for less than you deserve, you should at least bring home enough money to ensure that the work you've put forward that day was worth it.

Restoring pride, curbing violence and building the future is built largely around the eradication of poverty. This is a very real problem, and one that we actually have the means to solve in the near future. We can only hope that our lawmakers will see the light, but don't hold out too much hope. After all, this type of fiscal oppression is...

2007-01-31T06:06:00.000-08:00

Interesting news from Canada today in the field of cancer research. Usually I don't get into the medical journals, but certainly this is worth mentioning!

It appears that researchers from the University of Alberta have discovered what may be a major step in the right direction when it comes to actually curing cancer! The answer apparently lies within the chemical, dichloroacetate, or DCA. DCA has been shown to be effective in treating, reducing and often killing lung, breast and brain tumors in lab mice. In most cases the mice make a complete recovery with no obvious side effects.

How does this miracle cure work, you ask? Well, I'll be happy to tell you. Cancer is unique in that it makes its own energy throughout the cell body instead of using organelles as power stations, as normal healthy cells do. It has been long assumed that the mitochondria were irreparably damaged by the cancer, thus forcing them to find alternate methods of energy production to survive. However, in these tests, the addition of DCA to the cancerous cell has awakened the mitochondria, causing the cancerous cells to die.

In normal cells, mitochondria activate apoptosis, a process by which abnormal cells are destroyed from the inside out. To circumvent this problem, cancerous cells shut down the mitochondria and energize themselves through a process called glycolysis. The answer now seems shockingly simple... wake up the mitochondria (see below, click for a larger image).
Of course, the question now becomes, "why isn't this on the front page of every newspaper in America?" As with everything, there is a sinister underside to this issue. DCA is already in use, actively treating some metabolic problems in patients as we speak. However, the drug was issued without a patent. This would, of course be incredibly good news as a drug without a patent could be widely marketed in generic forms and sold to the public at bargain basement prices. Some estimate that the cost of a dose of DCA to a cancer patient could be as low as two dollars and could be quickly disbursed to the world after passing human testing.

So, who would stand between the public and a cheap, available cure for a disease that, in this state alone, will kill 9,360 people next year?

Of course!

A drug without a patent is a useless to pharmaceutical companies that turn staggering profits as the result of cancer TREATMENT... not cancer cures. Each year Americans spend billions of dollars treating this disease, so imagine the impact on the industry if those same Americans were able to completely eradicate their cancer with the pennies in their couch cushions. Many, many overpaid slime balls would find themselves out of a job... perish the thought!

They aren't alone.

The American Cancer Society, an allegedly impartial body, free of the crushing fist of government, accounts for 1/9 of the overall health budget of the United States. These people seem insulated from scorn, as it's nearly impossible to throw stones at a group that we believe to be actively searching for a cure to the modern equivalent of the plague. However, just like any other government body, the ACS is wrought with corruption. I won't try to explain how, I'll just let Dr. Ralph Moss, a leading proponent of alternative treatment and research, do the talking:

If you look at the board of directors of MSK [Memorial Sloane Kettering] you will find that the drug industry has a dominant position on that board. One company in particular, Bristol Myers, which produces between 40-50% of all the chemotherapy in the world, and they have top positions at MSK hospital.

When asked if this constituted a serious conflict of interest, Dr. Moss replied:

They are selling their own drugs to that particular hospital but they have written into the by-laws of the centre that it does not constitute a conflict of interest to sell their company drugs to the centre. They get around it by not taking a salary. They are not paid, they are volunteers. Look what happens. You have a man like Benno Schmidt, who was first head of the president's cancer panel under Nixon, then becomes head of MSK. He then goes on using the knowledge he gained at MSK to set up his own drug company to make tens of millions of dollars. [Another revolving door.] You bet, and a big one. We have had 50 years of American Cancer Society (ACS) brainwashing on the question of cancer, so most people out there believe we are making progress in the war on cancer. We are not, we are losing the war.

Of course, simply blaming the ACS and pharmaceutical lobby for this type of thing isn't enough. There's always someone at the top actively trying to screw us over... luckily, in one case, it happens to be one of my favorite targets.

In 1974, government research was conducted in an effort to prove that smoking marijuana caused irreparable damage to brain tissue. Although it was never proven that the drug was damaging the brain, a startling discovery was made. THC, one of the active components of marijuana, was actually causing brain tumors to shrink and in some instances completely die. The DEA immediately shut the study down and President Gerald Ford, seeing the promise of THC but still remaining completely out of touch with reality, gave exclusive license to... you guessed it... the pharmaceutical companies to develop a form of THC that would give patients the benefit of the drug without the "high."

Apparently there is no worse thing in the world than having a pleasant experience derive from the drug that's actively treating your cancer... not even the cancer itself.

In 1983, the Reagan/Bush administration began pressuring universities and research centers nationwide to destroy any studies of the medical advantages of THC created between 1966-76. Since those requests the information, according to Dr. Manuel Guzman of Madrid, has been "nearly impossible" to obtain.

In the time it has taken me to research and write this, four people have died in the United States of breast cancer alone. Between fifteen and thirty people have died from lung cancer and three have died from prostate cancer. As these lives tick away our government plays moral and political games built around a personal ideology, not the good of the nation. I don't know how to stop this, or if there's any way to do so, however I do know that education is the first step. Knowing what you're up against makes the fight considerably easier... just something to keep in mind when you take to the polls in the coming years and shape the future of not only your nation, but possibly your own life.

2007-01-21T20:58:00.000-08:00

I seem to have come down with a dastardly disease. I may not make it to you tomorrow, as I'm nearly certain that my vital organs shall soon become the topic of the latest Dustin Hoffman/Cuba Gooding Jr. picture. Anyway, I wanted to get my Oscar picks out there, just in case they're right...

Best Picture (the only category I have enough energy to declare):

Dreamgirls
Babel
Little Miss Sunshine
The Queen
The Departed

Thanks to Brinton's gift of modern technology, I've seen these films (not to mention others) in the last few days. If you've missed any of them, now's the time to catch up. My winner... honestly... The Queen.

2nd Place... The Departed.

Begin yelling at me now.

2007-01-19T06:21:00.000-08:00

Finally, we have bipartisanship on the Senate Floor!

After years of bickering and pouting, the Senate Democrats and Republicans have finally come to an agreement on something, the internet is scary. Apparently, with the Iraq War spiraling out of control, New Orleans still in a state of emergency and health care costs making it impossible for Americans to simply go to the doctor, the United States Government has decided to take on the real enemy... bloggers!

As you read this, there is a bill floating around the Senate that would require any blog with a readership of 500 or larger to "register" with the government and submit quarterly reports. Of course, this isn't the spelled-out focus of the bill, it's hidden inside a larger bill on ethics reform targeted at our elected representatives and their relationship to big money lobbyists. However, I find it very difficult to believe that someone with a blog readership of 500 people would count as a powerful lobbying group. Surely any sane person would agree.

I'd love (oh, how I'd love) to blame this one on the embattled Republicans in Congress. Unfortunately, this bill is cosponsored by members of both sides of the aisle, including Senator Chuck Schumer (D-NY) and everyone's favorite, Mitch McConnell (R-KY). Apparently, the growing popularity of blogs has Washington shaking in their boots.

Obviously, this isn't going to change the way I do business on this particular blog in the least. I'd absolutely love to have a regular, daily audience of around 500, but I don't think anyone would believe me if I even suggested that it might even be close. In fact, I have a small, but apparently dedicated base of around 50 people that seem to genuinely care what I have to say. However, in the grand scheme of things, what's the difference between fifty and five hundred? In a nation of 300,000,000 people, does anyone believe that an e-pulpit with a congregation of 500 is going to make a difference? At that's assuming that the 500 readers of a given blog are slaves to that particular writer and fully plan on voting exactly the way they are told.

The idea of blogging, for me at least, is centered around one's ability to share thoughts, stories and ideas with anyone willing to read. It's like talking to your neighbors in an age when your neighbors now have five locks on the door and are afraid to make eye contact with you. It's a round of drinks at the pub in a time when the pub is now overrun with conversation-killing dance music and gaudy decor. However, to your politicians, blogging seems to be a terrifying and unchecked means of affecting political policy. It seems that they've become so fearful of the idea of actual free speech that it has become a top priority, in a world gone straight to hell, that they find a way to regulate, control or at least supervise what's actually going on.

I have issues with campaign finance reform. I've always felt that it was wrong for huge industry to use their muscle in such a way as to change domestic and foreign policy. We've seen it time and time again as "big oil" keeps us in a constant state of pollution and warfare, as "big tobacco" killed off millions of Americans and as "big internet tech company" (still too new to have a flashy name) grows ever richer on the back of monopoly. However, I do find it difficult to tell someone to whom and how much they're allowed to contribute their own money in an election. It's a slippery slope either way, so I tend to err on the side of caution and try to keep them out of the People's House as much as possible.

However, this is a completely different animal. This is reaction to fear. This is an effort to keep track of free speech, not being spewed by multinational industries with agendas, but by regular people with opinions. No one owns my blog, there is no editor, there is not staff... it's just me with a keyboard (and a series of goofy images - see below).

Frankly, it comes down to a very simple fact. The people don't trust the government and the government doesn't trust the people. I certainly don't, and most people I know don't either. The problem with all of this registering, documenting and eavesdropping goes deeper that the initial shock. It's a slow, methodical process to keep an eye on everything that we say and do the "post-9/11 world" in which we live.

No one is going to come to your house and strip you of your rights tomorrow. That kind of shock would cause rioting in the streets. This kind of thing always happens in a far more subtle manner. Slowly, things that you take for granted start to disappear, and before you know it the America that you grew up in no longer exists.

It's easy to dismiss this kind of claim, to blame it on the conspiracy nuts. However, let's think about the conspiracy nuts for a second. Sure, they come off with some pretty crazy ideas from time to time, but let's not forget that occasionally their ideas have merit. Thanks to conspiracy nuts we now know that the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki wasn't really necessary, we know that the "lone gunman" theory brought about by the Warren Commission is probably bunk, and we know that the Gulf Of Tonkin incident was a fraud. This doesn't mean that any crackpot's ideas are 100% accurate, but it does mean that they're a relevant part of the American discourse and should be allowed to flow as freely as the opinions of the establishment.

No one has the right to tell you that your ideas aren't valid, that they're dangerous, or that they don't have a place in modern society. No one has the right to keep track of your opinions, intimidate your thought or monitor your speech. Above all, no one has the right to tear up the United States Constitution for any reason, not for safety, not for the "good" of society, and CERTAINLY not to be re-elected.

My opinions are my opinions, and if Mitch McConnell or Chuck Schumer want to monitor them, they can do exactly what you're doing right now. They can point their browser to www.corygraham.blogspot.com and check it out for themselves. But try to keep the hits to a minimum, as I'd rather keep it under 500.

2007-01-16T05:14:00.000-08:00

This morning was like every other morning. I strolled out to the car, plugged in the Ipod and made my way to work through the frozen countryside. However, this morning I happened to glance at the aforementioned Ipod's screen before actually getting on the road. One of my favorite Ipod features is the tiny image of the album cover of the song that you're currently listening to. As I rocked out to "Out In The Street," I took a glance at the cover of Bruce Springsteen's "The River." I'd never really paid much attention to it before, but this morning something became painfully clear... it's awful. The blues, the flannel shirt, the unkempt hair, the dreadful close-up... this seemed to be less of a disheveled troubadour and more of a very, very tired man.

This, of course, sent my mind wandering into other directions. Specifically into the realm of the worst album covers I'd ever seen. I worked in a record shop in my younger days, which meant that I had the dubious honor of looking at the jackets of albums that I would otherwise never have seen. Of course nearly every metal album sucked, with bands like Helloween and guys like Ronnie James Dio really standing out. But it was the ones that you didn't see coming, the bands that weren't supposed to have horrible album covers that really cranked out the winners. I thought I'd share a few of my favorites this morning.

For my money, this may be the worst album cover ever. It takes a few puzzle pieces fitting neatly together to really assemble a dreadful album cover, this would be a prime example. Here we start with the terrible title, "Surfing With The Alien." I'm not exactly sure how you'd go about doing that, but even Joe Satriani, with all of his guitar noodling is still limited to the confines of gravity and oxygen. Part two is, of course, the actual album cover. Here we have a fairly stock-standard image of Marvel Comics' Silver Surfer with very little explanation, other than the fact that he is, in fact, an alien and surfing. Finally, the artist. If you're not familiar with Joe Satriani then fall to your knees and that God right this moment. Does this guy actually have fans? If two of them exist, do the have conversations about his music?

Bill: Hey, did you get that new Satriani record?
Jeff: Yeah, I sure did.
Bill: It's great, isn't it!? What's your favorite track?
Jeff: Oh man, they're all great, but I'd say that I really love that one where he makes the bendy noise with the whammy bar!
Bill: Yeah, that's a great one, but how about the one where he hits the same note for fifteen minutes, wasn't that great?
Jeff: That's the one that I'm talking about.
Bill: Oh, I thought you meant the OTHER one where he makes the bendy noise with the whammy bar.

To be perfectly honest, this album cover really isn't as bad as the rest of this list. It made the cut for two reasons. One is the fashion choices that Salt N Pepa made at this point in their career. They certainly never came off as the most feminine bunch, so they rushed this record to shelves, full of smoky songs about men, boys, dudes and whattamen in an attempt to soften their image and declare their heterosexuality. Unfortunately, in the rush they also decided to include an image of themselves wearing flannel shirts, Carhartt jackets and, I'd imagine, Timberland boots. Clearly, nothing says femininity quite like that.

Secondly, the album's title cracks me up. Usually a title works to either sum up the content of the record (Dr. Dre's "The Chronic"), promote the big single (Michael Jackson's "Thriller") or make a statement... possibly while doing all three (Bruce Springsteen's "The Rising"). On this record, Salt N Pepa clearly went with option three, but what was the statement? I can only imagine that it was a reaction to someone in a boardroom at the label saying, "A new Salt N Pepa album... is that really necessary?" To which they replied, "oh yes."

This album may just defy explanation. Honestly, it's entirely possible that Limp Bizkit may be the worst band ever... ever. However, they decided to take juvenile crotch-rock to a whole new low (was that possible) by naming their album after pee pees and butt holes. As anyone knows, the only way to class up an album named after these body parts is to cover your record with images of aliens smoking marijuana. I'll give a shiny new nickel to anyone that can explain to me what anything on this album cover has to do with anything else on this album cover... and furthermore what any of that has to do with "Rollin'." The obvious obsession with these specific aspects of the human body certainly flies in the face of prior single, "Nookie."

At this point I decided to do a quick Google search for a few albums that I may have forgotten about. I typed in "worst album covers ever," only to find that I had missed the boat. These three were bad, but in a world of bad album covers, they were at the bottom of the pecking order. I now present to you three records that I've never actually seen, but now desperately want...

I just don't even know what to say about this one.

Show me one church where this is part of Sunday Service and I'll be there promptly at 11 AM every week.

This truly is something special. However, if it was an album of turntable beats, it would REALLY be something special.

It really makes you wonder how these albums were made. But nothing can change the fact that they were. They're here, and they're now part of our collective consciousness. This may have given birth to a new obsession. I'm going to be digging through crates in record stores for the next ten years, but I don't really expect to do much better than these.

2007-01-11T05:14:00.000-08:00

And now, a Blogjammin' look into the ravages of aging and its effect on our most precious natural resource... celebrities.

Those of you that happen to be regular readers of the Internet Movie Database (or, IMDB.com) will surely by now have noticed that each day the site is updated with a small box on the right side indicating exactly who's birthday it is. Usually it leads off with a particularly famous person, often delving into near obscurity by the time you hit the fourth person on the list (oh wow, the gaffer from Ace Ventura 2: When Nature Calls is having a birthday... and here I am without a cake!). However, some days just don't have the star power to keep readers interested. On those days IMDB will often throw in a dead movie star or celebrity from another field that may at some point have scored, cameoed in or perhaps watched a movie.

One such day IMDB decided to roll out two consecutive pictures of famous people who share a birthday, one a movie star, the other a country musician... these men were Billy Dee Williams and Merle Haggard. A quick look at the bio noted that not only did these men share the same birthday, but were born in the same year, making them exactly the same age. However, as anyone should have noticed by now, Merle and Billy Dee are, well, slightly different in appearance. Billy Dee still looked like the king of smooth, still able to stroll into the club and pick up any woman he wanted with a wink and a tall, cool Colt .45. Merle, however, looked as if he'd been doing his absolute best to live up to his last name.

Since witnessing this discrepancy I've regularly visited (mostly in my own mind) the topic of age in entertainment... primarily rock music. It seems as if these guys never really age in our mind. You look at the album cover, watch the old videos and catch those performances from yesteryear on VH1 Classic (almost always in front of a giant banner reading "MUSIK LADEN"), never noticing that time is creeping up on your favorite rock star. Some have aged well, some just haven't.

For me, one of the most shocking realizations was to actually process that Lou Reed is currently 65 years old. Now, I don't want to suggest that 65 is "old" necessarily... from what I see on those Oscal commercials 65 year olds ride jet skis, go skydiving and breakdance (which reminds me, since I can't do any of those things I should probably pick up some Oscal after work). However, when you're accustomed to thinking of someone like Lou as the absolute embodiment of "cool" in the late sixties, it's hard to get your head around the fact that he's currently getting Social Security checks in the mail.

Lou Reed, 65 years old and still much cooler than you.

To be honest, Lou looks pretty good when you consider that the majority of his life was spent on a steady diet of heroin and whatever he found to snack on while really, really high on heroin. He never quit smoking, and to the best of my knowledge he never actually quit doing drugs (feel free to correct me on that one). I can't say for certain that Lou never put the needle down, but he did release an epic album of strange Lou Reed music that's only vocals were his voice reading the works of Edgar Allan Poe. That doesn't bode well for any sobriety claims.

Of course, not every heroin starved, pre-punk, underground super hero fared as well. Take David Johansen of the New York Dolls (or Buster Poindexter of "Hot Hot Hot" fame) if you will. The Dolls' fusion of 70's glam and dirty guitar licks laid the groundwork for the punk rock movement of the late 70's, unfortunately culminating in a break-up before the punk movement actually arrived and relegating them to relative obscurity (by obscurity I mean in comparison to The Ramones, The Sex Pistols, The Clash, etc). Times were (apparently) very hard for Johansen in the decade that he seemed to disappear right off the face of the planet before reemerging as Buster Poindexter and giving rise to a series of car commercials.

Maybe Johansen should take a cue from KISS and reapply some foundation.

Is it just me or do some of these rock stars, as they age, begin to take on the physical characteristics of old ladies in war-torn Eastern European countries? Really, Johansen is just lacking a shawl and a tattered dress.

Of course, not everyone fared so poorly. Take, for example, Morrissey. Granted, at the age of 48 Morrissey is hardly a geezer, but he's still old enough to have left barely a faint hint of that sorrowful appearance that certainly helped propel The Smiths onto the British charts in the 1980's. Perhaps Moz just didn't do the copious amount of drugs that are required to properly mummify a rock star, but he has somehow managed to look like James Bond as he heads toward his golden years.

Granted, Mr. Morrissey still has several years ahead of him before he reaches the average age of the gentlemen on this page, but if his current appearance is any indication, he should fall into the Sean Connery category, as opposed to the Iggy Pop category... yikes. Granted, Iggy never really looked that great to begin with.

Uhmm... I think I've developed a man-crush on Morrissey... er, uhm, just ignore those last couple of paragraphs. Boy, I sure do love girls... mmmm, girls... let's watch some Baywatch and scratch ourselves!

Of course, there was no way in hell that I was going to make it through this post without mentioning the Grandaddy of 'em all.

The oldest man on the planet.

The most haggard rock star to walk onto a stage in 2006.

The hardest rockin' case of rheumatism to ever make a record.

The man that believes in Jesus because he actually attended the Sermon on the Mount.

The single largest shareholder in the Gilbey's Gin company of London... not because he owns stock, just because he owns all of the Gin.

Do I have to say his name?

No... I don't.

Keith Richards stands now, as he will forever, as the best example of exactly what years of the rock n' roll life can do to the human body. All jokes aside, it's really pretty impressive that he manages to get his handlers to wheel him up to the stage every night, carry him to his guitar and prop him up beside Mick Jagger. He's a role model to silver foxes worldwide.

Keef is yet another prime example of rock stars looking like old ladies in Eastern Europe. Luckily, it seems that Mr. Richards has embraced this look and is well on his way in a fetching head scarf. I can't say for certain, but I'm reasonably sure that Keith Richards actually brought me into his home for lunch on a cold, rainy day in Lexington and served me some traditional Serbian dishes. His kindness was certainly appreciated.

Most people would just stop at Keith Richards. They'd crack a few jokes on his age, wipe their hands on their pants and just call it a day. But I like to go the extra mile for you guys. You see, the body most-ravaged by years of living it up doesn't belong to Keith Richards at all.

There's a bigger cheese out there.

A man that may have done more hard livin' than all of the Rolling Stones combined. That man's name is...

David. Allen. Coe

I can't say for sure from what planet David came, or when they'll be back to collect him, but his study of the effects of drugs and alcohol on the body of an Earthling must nearly be complete. It is staggering, I repeat, staggering to grasp the concept that David Allen Coe is still alive. It must come as a shock even to him.

However, in the interest of fairness, I should also point out that DAC may actually be the least photogenic person in the history of mankind. Each photo that Coe releases to the public just seems to say, "yeah, I look like hell, say somethin' about it and I'll stab you in the gut." It really makes you wonder exactly what he looks like on an off day. Obviously he can't possibly wear all of that shit around all of the time, but good GOD I hope he does. Jut once I'd like to run into David Allen Coe in the grocery store looking exactly like he does on stage.

I guess what's truly amazing is that, on some level, he thinks that he actually looks good or cool or whatever in these pictures.

Fresh from the Mothership

Sexy... just pure sexy

Introspective

David expresses an interest in kicking your ass

I guess, when it's all said and done, we should remember that these guys are just human and as humans they're bound to age. Well, except for DAC... I firmly believe that he'll be receiving his new "human suit" in the mail very soon and will be reborn as the son of Shooter Jennings to continue his studies.

2007-01-10T05:53:00.000-08:00

EVERYBODY PANIC!

I'm not the type to get worked into a frenzy over ominous signs of things to come. I don't see the end of the world in every newspaper in America or worry endlessly about global warming (although, I'm certainly worried about it). However, a news story caught my eye the other day that certainly seemed telling...

The city of Austin, Texas was forced to shut down major parts of downtown due to a mysterious collection of dead birds. Dozens of birds simply fell out of the sky, landing beak-down on the asphalt, as Daxon would say, "deader'n four o'clock." I can't remember ever hearing about anything like this before, and with the shocking weather we've had this year I can't really say that I'm too terribly surprised. However, who isn't disturbed by the thought of bird after bird simultaneously dropping dead and crashing to the earth?

Remember folks, I'm from mining country, and if there's one thing that you learn growing up around a family of coal miners, it's that when you see a dead bird you get the hell out of wherever you are. Unfortunately, if you're in open-air downtown Austin, I don't know that you really have anywhere to run... Houston maybe? Nah, you'd just get shot in Houston.

So, what does this all mean? I like to think that it means that the end of the world is just around the corner. Now, before you start pointing out that I just went on a tirade against people declaring to know exactly when and how the world would end I'd like to point out that I have no idea when or how the world will end. I don't know if we're looking at months, years or decades, but I'm fairly sure that mass bird suicide isn't a valid explanation for what's going on here.

Just to make things more interesting, I came across this little gem while checking up on today's headlines. Apparently, at the same time, on the opposite side of the world, a rather large group of birds simply fell out of the sky in Australia. Surely this rules out a suicidal bird cult, as it would be rather difficult even for the most dedicated of migratory birds to actually get the message all the way to Australia. Besides, birds don't have watches or calendars... how could they possibly coordinate such an effort?

So, with that ruled out, we're back to the "end times." I'm sure that there's something in every religious text that could be bent around this bird crisis to show that the rapture is just around the corner. I'm entirely too lazy to do that (not to mention the blasphemy), so I'll leave that up to the big boys. If you'd like to know how dead birds are a sign that Jesus, Muhammed, Buddha or L. Ron Hubbard will be returning to earth in the next 72 hours or so, please direct yourself to the specific websites of those deities, I'm sure they're all over it.

But, c'mon, will the end times be that bad? It's kinda like Santa Claus. If you've been good, you get to go to heaven and play with the best toys ever. If you've been bad, you have to stay here with the murderers, rapists, child pornographers and Ann Coulter. Sure, there's that pesky "eternal torment" thing to deal with, but just think of all the free Sport Utility Vehicles and widescreen televisions that will be up for grabs when all of the true-believers are gone! Just getting all of those minivans with soccer ball decals off of the road will lower the price of oil in such a way that those "left behind" will finally be able to drive the roads of this great nation for pennies on the dollar!

So, sit back and relax. If the end times really are upon us then there's really nothing to worry about. Heaven's like a really posh nightclub with a very strict bouncer. You're either in or you're not, and I don't think they take bribes. Either way you have something to look forward to! Eternal bliss or free swag... it's a toss up. Of course, if some of my atheistic friends are right, we're all just going to die and that's going to be that. At least we're spared from a few more years of "Flavor of Love" and "I Love New York."

Oh, and take an umbrella today. I didn't check the forecast this morning, but they may be calling for showers of birds in your neck of the woods. Better safe than sorry.

2007-01-09T06:37:00.000-08:00

I, for one, am devastated.

Maybe it's because I love an underdog, maybe it's because I hate both Florida and Ohio State, or maybe it's just because I'm a jackass... but I refuse to recognize the Florida Gators at the 2007 National Champions.

I hereby declare Boise State to be the winner of college football's top prize. Argue all you'd like, I'm not backing down on this one.

2007-01-04T05:36:00.000-08:00

If you watch the Bill Maher show on HBO, you'll notice that each night he closes the show with a list of "New Rules." These are rules, passed by his personal legislative body, that take effect immediately and may not be violated for the sake of advancing society. Of course, like most of Maher's self-important diatribe, this is tongue in cheek, but each "New Rule" offers a bit of insight into our society... today I'd like to institute my own "New Rule."

New Rule: No one of any religious denomination is allowed to talk about, politicize or predict the date of the end of days.

This trend in apocalyptic prediction for 2007 began when the Middle East's greatest nutball, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, declared that Jesus and the 12th Imam would return in the Spring of 2007 to kick ass and take names in a way that would impress even Chris Tucker and Jackie Chan. For those of you behind on your Twelver Shi'ism, the belief is that Muhammad was born in 868 to a Byzantine Princess and Hasan Al-Askari, the eleventh Imam and then guardian of all Muslims. Due to Shi'a persecution, the 12th Imam was hidden from society and will reappear in the future to bring about a global Muslim state, slaughter the infidels and usher in paradise with Jesus by his side (actually, just slightly behind him).

Now, reading the verse of the Qur'an in which we learn of how Muhammad will return, it's pretty easy to see exactly how Muslims, especially those in beleaguered areas of the Middle East, would believe that his return is imminent... read it for yourself:

"During the last times, my people will be afflicted with terrible and unprecedented calamities and misfortunes from their rulers, so much so that this vast earth will appear small to them. Persecution and injustice will engulf the earth. The believers will find no shelter to seek refuge from these tortures and injustices. At such a time, God will raise from my progeny a man who will establish peace and justice on this earth in the same way as it had been filled with injustice and distress."

That having been said, let's not pretend that anyone, not even Mr. Ahmadinejad, knows when this is going to happen. Not only is it categorically insane to declare that you know exactly when the end times will be upon non-believers, but it's even crazier to declare that it will happen in A FEW MONTHS! Granted, if Jesus and Muhammad (wasn't that a Confederate Railroad song?) rock up out of the sky and hand me a Qur'an, I'll drop that pork chop and start looking for Mecca faster than the drop in enrollment at Liberty University... but it ain't gonna happen.

But it isn't just our friendly neighborhood Shi'a dictators that are in on the fun, the good ol' USA's own Pat Robertson is also weighing in on what exactly it was that God told him over the New Year's Eve break. Apparently Mr. Robertson is predicting storms, terrorism and Godlessness in 2007. On a related note, he is also predicting that Spider-Man 3 will do well at the box office, some celebrity couple will divorce and I will use the "F-word."

Robertson has a long history of making predictions straight from the mouth of God to his ear, few if any of which even remotely come to pass, yet for some reason people (usually over the age of 70 and with the 700 Club donation line on speed-dial) rush out to the store to buy up all of the milk and bread then promptly hide under the table. Pat, maybe you should get your hearing checked, because I'm pretty sure that God has better than a .190 average when it comes to predicting events in the world that he created and oversees. Did you ever consider that maybe God is just screwing around with you? Trying to make you look stupid? Next time you talk to him, ask him who his 2008 Superbowl pick is, if he says "The Texans" then you'll know for sure.

The fact of the matter is that whether or not you believe in a great spiritual being that will one day come down from heaven and deliver us all from evil, we can all agree that anyone declaring to know exactly when this is going to happen is crazy. Spring will come and go, flowers will bloom and Major League Baseball will kick off to another boring season. We will complain about the US Congress, walk the dog and buy the combo meal at our favorite fast-food joint. All of these things will happen just like they do every single year. And if Muhammad, Jesus, a combination of the two or some sort of Robo-Buddha with lazer eyes and a bazooka happens to arrive while that's going on, it's not because you said so.

... I assure you, world religious zealots, you had nothing to do with it.

2007-01-02T06:04:00.000-08:00

It's the new year, and as countless movie nerds throughout the country toss out their old calendars, conversations start to turn to the upcoming Academy Awards races. Granted, the Oscars don't really pack the punch that they once did, as every year some deserving artist loses out to some sort of mindless, sympathetic trash. This year will probably be no different, and the "I can't believe that _______ wasn't even nominated!" game will start within seconds of the announcements. I'd like to throw out a best picture demand in advance, and when it's snubbed I'll feel justified in skipping the Oscars this year... brace yourself for Zyzzyx Road!

This may be the "under the radar" picture to end all "under the radar" pictures. Not because it's being overlooked by the Academy, not because it lacks potent star-power to get the attention of the masses and not even because it's particularly good. Frankly, I haven't seen it. However, I'm certainly not alone in having missed this one... you see, Zyzzyx Road (which, incidentally, is giving my spell-checker fits) only brought in a whopping $30 at the box office.

I'm not kidding, that's not a typo... this film brought in thirty dollars at the box office. Assuming that on average a movie ticket runs about ten bucks in most theaters, we can safely assume that three people actually saw this film. Granted, if the tickets were cheap we could get up to as many as six, but certainly no more than that. This brings new meaning to the phrase, "no one saw this film," really, no one did see this film. Zyzzyx Road has three main "stars," clearly even those three people didn't see this film. The extras didn't even bother to see it. The extras' mothers didn't even bother to see it.

According to IMDB, the estimated budget of the film was $2,000,000. In the world of fiscal disasters, could ANYTHING rival an investment of two million dollars, of which thirty were recovered? From time to time you'll see a store open up in your neighborhood, it doesn't seem to really take off and then a few months later the doors close. Look, even in that circumstance, the owners can still sell the equipment and the building.

So, what kind of film could possibly generate such a disaster? Well, here's the plot, also from IMDB:

Grant is an accountant with a bad marriage and a daughter whom he loves. He takes to the road to service his accounts in Las Vegas. While there he meets seductive Marissa. They have a week-long affair which culminates in the arrival of Marissa's ex-boyfriend, Joey. Joey attempts to kill the lovers, but Grant gets the upper hand. Grant and Marissa then drive Joey's body to Zyzzyx Road and Grant buries Joey in the desert there. But in the morning the body is missing and something is trying to kill Grant and Marissa. In the DEATH OF A SALESMAN meets LOLITA ending, Zyzzyx Rd. reveals a shocking, tragic twist.

Are you kidding me!?

Perhaps one of the problems was the crew's inability to properly spell the name of the road in question.

A friend of mine that has worked on screenplays in the past, and as such was privy to "under development" titles, once told me of a storyline that was described as "Romeo and Juliet, but with clogging." I felt fairly certain that I'd never hear of a more ridiculous plot twist, that is until I heard of the shocking "Death of a Salesman" meets "Lolita" climax in Zyzzyx Road. But, of course, who better to sell this type of picture than the mighty Tom Sizemore.

These days it's actually more impressive to get through a film with Tom Sizemore than it is to actually make money with a Tom Sizemore film. Between drug/alcohol binges and the endless stream of hookers, just getting Tom onto the set should be grounds for at least a Golden Globe nomination.

Y'know, we've really reached an interesting point in this country when it comes to sex and fame. You may recall that a while back a sex tape featuring Mr. Sizemore and an assortment of nubile young ladies hit the internet. Now, for whatever reason, be it morbid curiosity or a genuine desire to see a middle-aged, out of shape, past-his-prime actor shag the daylights out of some poor young woman, people didn't hesitate to drop a few bucks to check out streaming feeds or even download this cinematic masterpiece. So, we've found ourselves at the point where we'd rather see Tom Sizemore the porn star than Tom Sizemore the actor.

Of course, that type of thing makes sense when you're talking about Paris Hilton or Pamela Anderson (or Lee or Rock or whatever the hell she is this week), but have you SEEN Tom Sizemore?

The more I think about it, the more that whole "Lolita" tie in to the shocking twist makes sense. Perhaps, realizing that they were cranking out a disaster of a film, the studio just decided to cut in a few minutes of Tom's sex tape at the end. The audience probably wouldn't notice, and it might entice at least three or four more people into the theater, thus doubling the box office take.

Just to put all of this into perspective, when I was in high school I made a crappy student film for a project. It featured earthquakes, car chases and my friend Howard dressed like God sitting in an Oak tree... I know for a fact that at least thirty people saw it. This makes me a more successful director than John Penney (who oversaw the creation of Zyzzyx Road) in at least one calendar year. I thought of using that logic to petition the production company for a three-picture deal, until I noticed that it was produced by "Zyzzyx LLC."

... I don't even know where to start making jokes about that, so I'll just stop right now.

2006-12-27T12:08:00.000-08:00

Here I go, sliding in just under the buzzer and well after Christmas... sigh... I'll do better next year. Anyway, after reading tons of 'em I thought I'd assemble my top ten albums of the year list! The ten albums that on one level or another never really left my ears in 2006. It really wasn't THAT great of a year for music, but that was fine with me since #1 (no surprises here) seemed to overpower pretty much everything.

Anyway, here we go with some good, old-fashioned ego... as I assume that you'll remotely care what my ten favorite records of the year were.

10. The Decemberists - The Crane Wife

Yet more geeky, hyper-literate soft rock from the Pacific Northwest's lords and masters of geeky, hyper-literate soft rock. It doesn't quite pack the punch of Picaresque, but the mournful moping of Victorian-era wannabe losers just never seems to get old. Even if you hate the music, that overwhelming feeling of "I could kick this band's ass" always makes you feel a little warm and fuzzy... and despite what Yo La Tengo may have you think, they're #2 on that list.

9. The Thermals - The Body The Blood The Machine

Jangly, whiny pseudo-punk taking on the religious fundamentalists, always a winner at parties. Theme records usually become rather tiresome after about the first four or five songs, but this one manages to hold your attention for the full 35 or so minutes of its run time. "The Body..." has an old-school "indie rock" feel to it, which I guess means that it sounds like Built To Spill. It's captivating, poppy and preachy, which is how I like to sum up an evening with me after a few beers, before too many beers arrive and the first two disappear.

8. Ghostface Killah - Fishscale

I'm not sure exactly when it was that Ghostface went from bit-player in the Wu-Tang Clan to every white college kid's favorite MC, but it certainly seems to have happened. Fishscale is loaded with rhymes that feel classic when compared to the sea of mediocrity that seems to have engulfed hip-hop. Of course, the gritty, soulful underground feel of his past work shines through, but never feels stale. I wish someone would have told me ten years ago that Ghostface would be making some of the most exciting music on the planet, then I probably wouldn't have put that old Wu-Tang shirt in the yard sale.

7. Primal Scream - Riot City Blues

I can't remember the exact review that Pitchfork Media gave this record, but I'm pretty sure that it's numerical score (on a scale of 1-10) was less than 1. This, of course, was more than enough to get me to buy the album immediately. Odds are that if Pitchfork hates an album and describes it as stupid rock music, I'm going to love it. Of course I did, and I defy anyone to tell me that "Country Girl" wasn't the best single of the summer... take that Gnarls Barkley.

6. The Subways - Young For Eternity

More dumb rock n' roll, but this time it's from another country! The Subways made the record that Jet or Oasis or at least someone we'd heard of should have. Big licks, sing along choruses and an absolutely fantastic song about some chick named Mary make this one of the ultimate records of 2006. There's something to be said for songs about rock n' roll, not rock songs, but rock songs about rock songs and the people that love rock songs. In 2006 there was no better song about rock chicks who love rock songs than "Rock & Roll Queen."

5. Midlake - The Trials of Van Occupanther

The "playing with your navel record of '06" winner! Midlake made 2006's best album for a drive. Not a drive where you actually intend to get anywhere in a hurry, but the kind of drive where you mistakenly take the wrong exit and are just to nonplussed to give a damn. It's perfect for an evening at home, in the dark, with a glass of bourbon and a smoke. However, "It Covers the Hillsides" has all of the charm of a Belle & Sebastian sing along. I guess, like anything else, you take from it what you put in it.

4. Cat Power - The Greatest

With James Brown now feelin' good up in heaven, who's left to bring hot buttered soul to the masses? Well, apparently it's Cat Power. I once heard the first track of this album mistaken for Norah Jones, a pretty accurate comparison. It's like Norah Jones without all of the Norah Jones hype (and without stealing much deserved awards from Bruce Springsteen). It's comfortable, relaxing piano music that may just inspire you to light the fire, pour a glass of Hennessey and unleash the fury of your loins... or in my case, the mild temperament of your loins.

3. M. Ward - Post-War

As the least popular member of that whole Bright Eyes/My Morning Jacket/Rilo Kiley crowd, M. Ward seemed destined to be the Jeff Lynne of the organization. However, a near classic album showcased in a year of weak outputs from his cohorts (save Jenny Lewis) allowed Mr. Ward's talents to shine a little more brightly. This album is near perfection from start to finish with one of the catchiest songs of the year in "Magic Trick." It's also worth mentioning that the video for "Chinese Translation" absolutely rocks.

2. Tom Waits - Orphans

Three discs, three moods, each one clearly as Tom Waits as hell. Orphans is a collection of Waits' songs that could have or should have been passed on to the general public long ago. Fortunately for us, he decided to take the time to slap them together (in an extremely neat package) and hand them over, just in time for Christmas! Tom Waits has a way of making you feel cooler than you actually are, so be warned... just because you've learned the words to these songs doesn't give you the go-ahead to put on a pork pie hat and head off to impress the ladies... it just doesn't work, trust me.

1. The Hold Steady - Boys & Girls in America

Unfortunately, no one stood a chance this year after The Hold Steady dropped a new release in early October. Filled with stories of lost love, gained love, missing friends, drunken nights and one especially moving encounter in the chill out tent, Boys & Girls in America is a seminal rock masterpiece that will struggle to find peers for years to come. The only unfortunate drawback to listening to this record is that somehow, some way, it still doesn't capture the power of seeing the band live... THAT is truly amazing.

That, my friends, brings an end to the best records of 2006 (in my humble opinion). Let the bashing commence, point out things I've forgotten. For the record, I didn't "forget" The Seeger Sessions, Ringleader of the Tormentors, Rabbit Fur Coat or any of the other records that clearly had a real shot at making the cut... they just simply didn't make it. Maybe next year we can build on a top 20, or get all bloated and rock a top 50 list like Rolling Stone (although, if I'm forced to include My Chemical Romance for lack of fifty quality albums, you can forget it).

2006-12-27T05:13:00.000-08:00

I'm really hoping that you get the joke... otherwise I'm going to look like a real ass

As I'm sure you've heard, President Gerald Ford has passed on. I'd imagine that some of you are expecting something snarky here, as I've never been one to cry in my beer at the natural passing of former Republican Presidents... however, Ford is different. Sure, he made his mistakes (The Warren Commission, pardoning Nixon, underestimating gravity), but all-in-all Gerald Ford was a decent man who simply tried to make the best of an unfortunate situation.

Of course, at 93 years old his passing is hardly surprising news, but it still took me back a bit when I first heard the news this morning. Ford was a passable president, not great... sort of the Millard Fillmore of our day. But, his everyman aesthetic and the tireless efforts of his wife to combat substance abuse problems in our country are to be commended.

Rest in peace, big guy. They'll have plenty of nachos in heaven.

2006-12-22T05:07:00.000-08:00

2006-12-20T11:23:00.000-08:00

There's no reason to share this, other than the fact that it's been stuck in my head all afternoon... enjoy.

2006-12-20T05:08:00.000-08:00

"There are nights when i think that sal paradise was right. Boys and girls in america have such a sad time together."

So begins the best album of 2006, and maybe the best album I've ever heard.

Originally I'd planned this blog post to be part one of a five-part series on the five biggest cultural forces of 2006. I'd planned on mentioning The Hold Steady, Steven Colbert, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, Sasha Cohen and Chuck Klostermann... my way of flying the bird to Time Magazine's "Person of the Year" cop out. I drove and drove, thinking of what to say, but kept coming back to The Hold Steady, thus this piece simply evolved into a love letter to the greatest rock band on the planet.

Calling The Hold Steady a "rock band" is like calling George Bush an "asshole." They aren't A rock band, they're THE rock band.

Last year I got my hands on a copy of Separation Sunday... yes it was an illegal download, but my conscience eventually got the best of me and I purchased a "real" copy of the record. It took one listen, just one spin from start to finish to realize that I was holding something very special. This wasn't just some indie-rock record that would prompt dozens of sixteen year olds to buy skin tight t-shirts and posture endlessly about expression and the underground. This was a real record, one with teeth, but mostly one with meaning. Several hours (and several longnecks) later, I'd fallen in love with a record in a way that I hadn't since I was a child.

Separation Sunday isn't as much an album as it is a story. It's the story of old friends, people you knew from your younger days doing the things you did and going the places you went. I found my friends, my old haunts and my demons in that record. I found pain, joy and ultimately redemption... I found part of myself that I thought I'd lost forever. Listening to Separation Sunday is like flipping through a photo album or slamming back a few beers with old friends at the local bar. It's Springsteen's "Glory Days," only darker, more complicated, more real and considerably longer.

Lead singer and lyricist Craig Finn paints lavish pictures of life in a scene filled with parties, drugs, misery, euphoria and eventually triumph. It's every "scene" in every town in America, from New York City (pop. 8 million) to the Twin Cities (pop. 2.81 million) to Clay City (pop. 1,303). It's the story of the people you know, and if you've ever battled addiction or know someone who has, it's the story of your (or their) life.

So, it was with great apprehension that I purchased "Boys & Girls In America," the band's subsequent release. I'd found something so special in their last record that the thought of a sub-par follow up could be a rather painful experience. However, I needed more. I'd become one of the characters in Separation Sunday, chasing a hit through the streets and meeting strange men in back alleys with bootleg copies of live shows. A trip to Chicago for Lollapalooza in early August provided a much needed "quick fix" as I experienced the band live for the first time, standing in the front row and screaming myself ragged. It was a gloomy sunday, but as amazing as it sounds, the clouds parted and the sun poured seemingly directly on the stage during the piano solo that is the heart and soul of "Stevie Nix." It felt almost as if God himself was a fan, just trying to get a better look at the stage.

After the show I met the band, who happened to be staying at our hotel. Without a trace of arrogance Craig and I briefly debated whether or not Newport was in Kentucky or Cincinnati, I promised to drive as far as necessary to see them again... luckilly that drive was to Newport (which, incidentally, is in Kentucky).

But, back to the original point. Boys & Girls in America was a triumph. A record that was more Clay City than New York, filled with songs about outdoor party pits, drunk dancing at the prom and the difficult dynamics of modern relationships. Each song seemed to speak to me just as profoundly, but on a different level, as Separation Sunday. It was every girl I'd ever dated, the real true love of my life and all the stories in between.

Lyrically, the songs were packed with the same details, clever references and blue-collar struggles that made the first album a monument to the artform. It's that type of thing that previoiusly only Bruce Springsteen seemed to understand... a song isn't truly great until it can whip a crowd into a frenzy and cause thoughtful introspection. These songs were equally comfortable in the most raucous bar in town or the quiet pub around the corner... they were conversations with old friends and conversations with yourself.

Mostly, they were jubilant rock songs that caused hysterical fans to mob the stage and sing along.

The Hold Steady have managed to do something that no other band has done in my lifetime... create the two greatest albums OF my lifetime. Obviously, each record should be evaluated by itself. It should stand alone, and I assure you that it does. However, when paired together these records seem two sides to the same coin. Something incredibly special causing listeners to find parts of themselves in a world populated by meaningless records that will be long forgotten after skinny ties and suit jackets fall out of style (or has that already happened?).

The Hold Steady is that band that makes a kid pick up a guitar. Hell, they make ME want to pick up a guitar. The music they create will be remembered long after they're gone and will inspire a return to rock and roll with meaning. That desperate howl that's sonic force can bring down empires are unite generations had been on life support for quite a while until a Brooklyn bar band's shot of pure adrenaline sent it screaming out of a self-induced coma. Simply put, The Hold Steady may have saved rock & roll.

I want to bring this to a close by just explaining exactly how much these records mean to me. It's obvious by now that I'm a fan, but I'm one fan out of thousands... and that's the point. These songs feel like they were written especially for me, telling the stories of the people I know, the places I've been and most importantly, the things that I've done. I've made entirely too many mistakes in my life, often seeming to be one right after another. I always felt that there'd be redemption one day, a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, but some days that feeling is a little harder to find than others. These albums seem personal. They seem to speak to me, to tell me that everything is going to be okay and that faith in whatever you chose to have faith in will eventually bring you into the light.

It's as if The Hold Steady are the rock & roll therapists for an entire generation that seems stuck between stations... on the radio

Thanks, guys.

Let me be just another voice signing on to the mantra... The Hold Steady almost killed me (right before they saved my life).

2006-12-19T11:47:00.000-08:00

Nothing irritates me more than agreeing with Pat Buchanan. Unfortunately, from NAFTA to the Iraq War Mr. Buchanan has managed to hit a few nails on the head in the past couple of years. Maybe there's something to be learned here... maybe serious liberals and serious conservatives have more in common than we let on.

It just goes to show that not everyone on the other side is a carbon copy of everyone else. Even though Pat is as wrong as one man can be 95% of the time, he can be pretty insightful the other five. Take this piece on the Time Magazine Person of the Year fiasco.

About Buchanan, Hunter S. Thompson once wrote, "We disagree so violently on almost everything that it's a real pleasure to drink with him."

... maybe I should buy him a beer.

2006-12-18T05:21:00.000-08:00

Over the weekend I found myself (as I often do) at Lowe's. It's not that I ever really need anything from Lowe's, but sometimes it's just fun to wander around in there and look at light fixtures. I look at it in the same way my friend Matt used to talk about Petsmart. "Sometimes, when you have a few extra minutes to kill, it's fun to go in there... it's like a free trip to the zoo!" Only, with Lowe's, it's like an open house... only in a really big house with entirely too many appliances and only one bathroom.

On this trip to Lowe's I noticed something rather surprising. Did you know that Lowe's has someone on staff to translate whatever language it is that you happen to speak into English? There's a cardboard stand-up at the customer service counter with about sixteen different languages listed, ranging from Arabic to characters that sincerely must be Martian. According to this informative and decorative information disbursement unit, customers are to point to the language of their choosing and someone will come to assist you by translating said language and thus allowing you to purchase a nifty set of solar powered yard lights that won't actually illuminate anything, but are good for the environment.

Who knew that Lowe's was blazing such new ground in cultural acceptance? Could Lowe's be the multicultural epicenter of Lexington? A foreign embassy to wayward travelers in need of stapleguns and propane?

Well, that may be a stretch, but it's still interesting. As I stood there, awestruck, I started to really think about the matter. Is there REALLY someone in the back that, with the press of a button, could come to the aid of someone desperately needing to purchase a deadbolt but who's purchasing power is hindered by their ability to only communicate in Farsi? If that's the case, then how exactly did this person end up working at the Lowe's just off of Nicholasville Rd.?

"I studied for years, often in the jungles of Africa, to perfect my Ndebele. Now, with those skills firmly planted in my mind, I'm finally prepared to pull on that blue smock and sell toilets with pride!" I was never aware that Lowe's had such high standards, but I demand that my next case of light bulbs be sold to me in Latin.

On an unrelated note, I can't stand Christmas music.

Now, I'm not talking about the occasional Bing Crosby tune or the pleasant sound of Christmas Caroling... I'm talking about that crap on the radio. I can assure you that if I hear John Mellancamp belting out "I saw mamma kissin' ol' Santa Claus" one more time I may just put on a dress and climb a clocktower with a high powered rifle... there'll be rain on the scarecrow, but blood on the Santa suit.

Honestly, I'm not a bah-humbug type, I really enjoy Christmas. However, by the time that you rush out to grab that last gift item, get flipped off by some guy in a Santa hat and enter the world of gladiatorial combat that is Hamburg Pavillion it gets easy to lose the spirit. Compound that with the damned Chipmunks singing "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" for the fiftieth time and it becomes increasingly easy to see why holiday suicide rates are so high.

However, the worst of all Christmas jams has to be the godawful Stevie Nicks version of "Silent Night." The "Voodoo Priestess" (or whatever the hell she thinks she is) warbles and sputters through a monotone rendition of a Christmas classic in a voice that sounds like the reanimated larynx of Katherine Hepburn brought back to life in a robot body.

As if it wasn't bad enough already, Stevie treats you to a soul-crushing "ooooh, it was aaaaa... siiiiiileeeeeeent niiiiiiiiight" over and over again, thus composing the last twenty-five minutes of the epic monstrosity. Literally, try to find a station that plays the entire song, I guarantee you that the DJ will start talking over the ending as it fades out. If a station actually let that song play as it was recorded we'd be well into Martin Luther King day before Stevie finally stopped bellowing out her faux-soul, creepy crap.

Furthermore, what in the hell is the queen of the dark realm doing singing about the birth of baby Jesus anyway!? It's really tough to fear your minions of the night when I'm picturing you hanging mistletoe from the stairwell. Shouldn't she be singing about the 364 days a year that DIDN'T bring peace on earth and goodwill toward men? Of course, it's possible that the voodoo/dark lord/scary Stevie stuff is all a put-on, but I don't buy it. She really is dark and mysterious and I won't hear otherwise.

What are you going to tell me next? Alice Cooper really isn't a zombie-vampire from hell? I'd like to hear you explain that one.

2006-12-15T05:23:00.000-08:00

"Draft Obama" launched the first Obama '08 ad in New Hampshire this week. Hopefully we'll start to see even more of these things in the coming months, only with the word "Draft" removed from the equation. It's a good ad, not great, but very good. However, looking at what a collection of amateurs with a copy of Adobe Premiere can do, just imagine what actual Obama '08 ads could be. Let the goosebumps begin!

2006-12-14T10:51:00.000-08:00

Dear Ryan Tipton,

Thank you for getting a myspace page, your posts have been fun to steal and subsequently use on my blog.

Sincerely,

Cory Graham

Ok, maybe that was a bit much, but this is going to mark the second post in a week that has somehow come from Ryan's myspace. Ryan's latest blog post has a fairly neat little game that relies on your computer's music playlist to dictate the soundtrack of your life. I attempted to find an image of "soundtrack of your life" on google just now, hoping for some sort of cheesy Dick Clark thing, but managed only to find this surly looking fellow.

I'm not sure what the soundtrack of his life actually is, but I'd imagine that it involves bands with scary names and tubes of eyeliner. Oh, and if you're reading this and happen to be this guy, my name is really Nathan Johnson... come try to kick my ass.

Anyway, here's how it works. You have a series of moments in your day that represent the movie that would (and should) be made about your life. You put your mp3 list on "shuffle" (in my case, itunes) and then record the song that corresponds to each part of your life, writing a clever little snippet about what happened at that point. It's important that you don't cheat! No skipping over that cheesy Barry Manilow song you downloaded in a drunken stupor that night after too many at the karaoke bar. It's your life, it ain't always pretty. So, without further discussion, let's see if this can in any way make for a good story.

I should point out that my itunes list at work isn't particularly vast, so we're bound to have some repeat artists.

Opening Credits - Big In Japan (Tom Waits) - Hopefully this isn't foreshadowing. As much as I'd like to be a huge star overseas, I'm confused by Japanese culture and I'm not sure that I could actually handle a regular diet of "Super Awesome Yankee Soda" to wash down my "Manly Happy Superbowl Rice Cakes."

Waking Up - Unknown Title (Oasis) - The song is from a bootleg Oasis record made before they were signed. I don't know the title, but I do know that it may be the worst song I've ever heard. It's about starting over and walking away from an old life. Apparently the womb was tough on me. I must have survived back-alley abortions, fetal alcohol syndrome and Indian food. Well, at least I made it!

First Day At School - Enemy (Dirty Pretty Things) - I strut into Kindergarten with sunglasses on and a mohawk. I'm shooting looks at the ladies, claiming my nap area and knocking down nerds for their graham crackers and milk. So, yeah, it's the exact opposite of my real first day of school... damn bullies... I really wanted that graham cracker too.

Fight Song - End Of A Century (Blur) - The perfect score to what would have to be the worst fight in history, an epic slap-fight. Of course, if it's an emotional thing and not actual physical violence then this might just work. Either way, I'm clearly a wuss... maybe that whole Japan thing isn't looking so bad.

Breaking Up - Phantom 309 (Red Sovine) - Broken hearted, I set out to discover America by hitchiking across the country. I was picked up by a ghost and given a free cup of coffee in a diner. I spent the next year in that same diner trying to get more free coffee, but they get tired of hearing about that ghost after a while.

Happiness - Last of the Famous International Playboys (Morrissey) - I left my life as a drifter behind, in search of a better life. I found this happiness in the dusty Arizona terrain. I promptly styled my hair into a pompadour, bought some gold-lamet shirts and tricked out a 74 Lincoln. Things were really starting to look up.

Life's Okay - Jersey Girl (Tom Waits) - One night, as I drove through the cool, painted desert, I stumbled across a fellow drifter. Her name was Francine Frischmann and she had the most beautiful accent... the sweet sound of a Jewish girl from Newark... could angels sing so sweetly? Surely not.

Driving - Killing In The Name (Rage Against The Machine) - High on cheap mescaline and tequila, Francine and I took out one night with a box of shotgun shells and a convertible. Six hours later we left a trail of carnage along Route 66. The next morning we awoke to find our pictures splashed across every newspaper in America. Of course, we didn't remember actually DOING anything, but since they seemed to have pictures of us in the act we couldn't really deny it... so we changed course for the border.

Flashback - Mamma & Me (Nellie McKay) - As we made our way to the border I looked back on my life and where it had all gone wrong. Having dealt with a miserable childhood (thanks Oasis!) I guess I never had a chance. I was turned out on my own at an early age and nothing ever seemed to go my way. I pulled over at the next gas station, tortured by guilt, and handed Francine the keys to the car. I set out on foot, looking for a police station, I needed to turn myself in. The charges were heavy, I was facing life in prison at best... however, a few costly mistakes by the Arizona State Police led to an astonishing lack of evidence and I was back on the streets.

Getting Back Together - Three Day Rule (Little Man Tate) - With a spring in my step and a new lease on life I set out to conquer the world. My old habits quickly caught up to me and I found myself in a Mexican tequila bar knocking back slammers with large, mustached men. In the corner of the bar, waiting tables, I saw her... Francine had made it to Tijuana.

Wedding - Cupcake (Nellie McKay) - We were wed the next month. It wasn't long until I found myself falling back into that same routine of petty crimes and the occasional felony to support our lifestyle. Times were hard, but we were getting by. I started to find myself involved with some rather nasty characters in the Mexican underworld, so in the still of the night Francine and I slipped across the border and into San Diego to start a new life, which seemed appropriate since she was now six-months pregnant.

Birth of A Child - October, First Account (Be Your Own Pet) - Our child was born shortly after we settled in to a new life in California. Three mouths to feed proved to be substantially more difficult than two, so I stepped up my activities. We made a comfortable life for ourselves in the city, but my past wasn't something that you could shake over night. Worst case scenerios exist for a reason, and mine was just around the corner.

Final battle - Heartattack & Vine (Tom Waits) - The boys in Mexico didn't appreciate us skipping town in the middle of the night. By "didn't appreciate," I mean they were extremely upset... and by "extremely upset" I mean that they had planned to kill us. One night, just after we put the baby to bed, I heard a knock at the door. I opened it, just a crack, only to have it kicked into my face. As I laid sprawled across the floor, my wife and child screaming, I saw a familiar face standing over me. It looked like my luck had finally run out.

Death Scene - Orange Claw Hammer (Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band) - As they nasty hombres from south of the border stood over us, deciding exactly what type of gruesome fate was to await us, I slipped my hand underneath the couch, grabbing a rather large claw hammer (really needed this song here!). With everything I had I brought it across the knee of the nearest bad guy. Screaming in pain he dropped his gun, which I promply picked up and used to dispatch the angry mob (hey, nobody said it had to be MY death!).

Funeral Song - Killamangiro (Babyshambles) - We packed up what we could and drove off into the night. I can't really comment on the funeral situation for those guys, as I doubt we would have been welcome guests. We made our way across the country and up the coast, finally arriving back in Jersey where we joined her family and managed to live a quiet, suburban life for the rest of our days.

End Credits - She's My Man (Scissor Sisters) - Apparently things turned out extremely well for our little family of outlaws, as this isn't exactly the type of music you associate with a "down ending." I guess the credits are probably rolling over family photos. Hey, there I am taking our son to soccer practice... oh, and there's Francine baking a birthday cake. Thanks itunes, things were looking grim for a bit!

Ok, so there you have it. It's not really the story of my life (thank God), but it's probably fairly close to the story of SOMEBODY'S life. Either way, it was fun to write. Now, I'm going to leave you guys to start downloading some happier tunes... damn that was depressing.

2006-12-13T05:18:00.000-08:00

Most of my ideas come to me while in the car. I spend a fair amount of time driving, and with nothing other than guardrails and the radio to keep you company your mind is free to wander and wonder... which mine never stops doing. I guess that's why so many of my posts revolve around music, sports and/or politics, the five preset stations on my XM Radio dial (for those of you keeping score, that would be Fred, Lucy, The Rhyme, ESPN Radio and Air America).

Anyway, yesterday I found myself in a pickle. I was facing down an insatiable craving for some fries from Penn Station, yet I live about 40 miles from the nearest one. What's a man to do? Well, if you guessed "get in the car and drive to Penn Station," you'd be right! On my way up and back I listened to a few jams from The Subways, The Hold Steady, M. Ward and The Flaming Lips via the CD player, but found myself sliding that finger over to the radio button to hear exactly what satellite radio had to offer... thus, this post was born.

Initially I ran into the Mission: Impossible theme, as composed by Larry Mullen and Adam Clayton of U2. To be honest, I hated this song when it was new. I failed to see how impressive it was to throw a few simple drum loops behind the original score and call it new and kinda still do. However, something occurred to me yesterday that hadn't in the past... I must not have been driving when I heard this the first time. I found myself lost in the song and driving my banged up Neon like a bat out of hell.

Here I go, ripping down I-64 at breakneck speeds, whipping around semi-trucks and weaving in and out of traffic. Who is that guy in the Lincoln? I think he's tailing me... better lose him in this convoy! Now, if I can just get around this minivan I'll have a clear line of sight to that black SUV... better stay on him, but not too close, I don't want to look suspicious.

The thought crossed my mind that at any point I could come up over the hill and run into the Kentucky State Police, who wouldn't understand my need to tail the mysterious Suburban down the rainy interstate. I'd have to make them understand, after all, I had to get these documents to the lab before sundown!

Whipping your mind into that kind of frenzy is fun, just a little play time on the road to pass the time. Unfortunately, when you spend several minutes as a super-spy it takes some of the excitement out of your actual destination. It's never fun to realize that you're actually just going to get a sub and some fries... major disappointment. I tried to pretend that the philly steak sandwhich was actually Polonium 210 that had to get into the hands of Scotland Yard before the Russians could stop me, but by then the radio had swithched to Mariah Carey's "Emotions" and the thrill was gone.

Speaking of Mariah Carey, has anyone heard about her plans to sue adult film star and California Gubenetorial candidate Mary Carey for using a name similar to hers? Does this actually make sense to anyone on the planet? If she actually wins this case I will immediately begin taking offers from lawyers to represent me as I take action against British IT lawyer, Rory Graham. That's right, Rory... you've had your fun, now it's time to pay up. I'm tired of you cashing in on my blog's popularity to further your 26 billion dollar global deal value. Some of that money is rightfully mine!

We'll get back to Mariah and Rory in just a second, the song just changed and I'd like to make a point.

Shiny Happy People...

Can anyone explain exactly what was going through Michael Stipe's head when he chose Kate Pierson for the duet? If there is ANY B-52 that needs to be guesting on that song it absolutely MUST be Fred Schneider. Which seems more likely to be Shiny, Happy and holding hands with Michael Stipe... Schneider or a woman? Do I even need to ask that question?

Clearly, if you're a regular reader of this blog, you'll realize that I'm not a homophobe. That having been said, has anyone ever been more gay than Fred Schneider? I'm talking in a strictly stereotypical sense. We're talking about a man that Truman Capote would have told to "turn it down a little." Fred Schneider makes Jack McFarland look like Jack Lambert (thought I'd include a link for those of you not familiar with one or the other).

Then, suddenly, I was hit with a realization. I have no idea whether or not Fred Schneider is really gay. I've never heard anyone confirm that he bats for the other team, I've never seen him making out with a guy, and to the best of my knowledge there are no stories of him slipping out behind E-Z Stop after a few cold beers to "experiment." Maybe I had it all wrong! Maybe Fred is just a flamboyant character that actually has a wife and three kids somewhere in the Georgia suburbs. Maybe he owns a hound dog and eagerly anticipates deer season with his buddies...

... no, wait... he's really gay.

Anyway, back to Mariah Carey and that sonofabitchin' Rory Graham. I'm going to go against all conventional wisdom here, so hold on to your seats. I can't stand to listen to Mariah Carey sing. I'm not saying that "I don't like her songs" or that "she's mindless pop-filler trash," although I do tend to agree with those statements, I'm actually going to say that I can't stand her voice. I know that must come as a shock, as even the most cynical music critic may take stabs at her producers or her arrangements but NEVER at Ms. Carey's vocal talent. Well, she sucks. Sure, she can hit notes that I can't, but I'm not a singer.

I've never been partial to that "hit every single note that you can in thirty seconds" crap that seems to make careers these days. Personally, I think Mariah Carey sounds like a Great Dane with a gym whistle stuck in its throat. Lots of throaty bellowing followed by some sort of high-pitched squeal that has no purpose in the song but is supposed to make me stand in awe of her vocal talent. Last year I managed to strain my groin... I made the same sound. Where's Tommy Mattola with my record contract, I'm ready to sign. Put me on stage every night, have someone kick me in the testicles and promptly deposit several billion dollars into my bank account. Paired with the billions that I plan to receive in my suit against that moniker-stealing Graham across the pond, I should be doing okay.

Speaking of billions of dollars and Europe... I've mentioned this before, but it should be mentioned again. Did anyone ever come up with any sort of explanation as to why Don Johnson had 8 BILLION DOLLARS in the TRUNK OF HIS CAR? How is it possible that such a story could just fade away? When some washed up 80's star gets busted for DUI, kiddie porn or drug posession it's on the damn news for months at a time with reality shows on VH1 to follow. Don Johnson is driving around Europe with the GDP of Africa in his trunk and no one seems to give a damn.

I'd like to point out that whether or not the 8 billion dollars in Johnson's car actually belonged to him (how does someone misplace 8 billion dollars?) or not, he was still in possession of the money when he was checked by the police. Meaning that at the time, Don Johnson was the 33rd wealthiest person on the planet... not counting what he had in his actual bank account! This puts Mr. Johnson right between Carlos Slim Helu (the wealthiest man in Latin America) and Suliman Olayan (European value investor and 20% shareholder in the Saudi British Bank) on the Forbes list of the World's Richest People. How does Danny Bonaduce get a reality show and Don Johnson not!? Get Jim Kramer off of the airwaves right now, I want Don Johnson to explain to me how I can turn my Nash Bridges earnings into EIGHT BILLION DOLLARS!

If anyone has any information as to what ever became of this, please let me know. And, if anyone knows if Don Johnson needs a drinkin' buddy, tell him I'm available!

No, really... Don Johnson was driving around with 8 billion dollars in his trunk... no... really.

2006-12-12T08:36:00.000-08:00

Getting bored with the day-to-day hum of your life?

Need a break from work, the news, the war on Christmas, Christmas, Ernie Fletcher and cold beer at a reasonable price?

Allow me to suggest a vacation.

This is a new idea, so let's fly it up the flagpole and see how it goes. Why not throw out the very first blogger road trip? Those of you that reading this, those of you with your own blogs and those of you that vaguely remember hearing something about a blog once are all cordially invited to load up in a car (or series of cars) and head out to a predetermined destination this January to celebrate... nothing in particular.

It's not as if we need an excuse to travel to another city to tell jokes, drink beer and avoid work. However, just in case you did, let this be it. Where should we go, you ask? Well, how about glorious downtown...

No one EVER has a bad time in Chicago... other than maybe Al Capone and Roxie Hart. It seems as if I end up in the Windy City more than anywhere else, and every time is just as much fun as the time before. Now, I'm not talking about a week-long barnburner vacation. Just take Friday off, load up the car and spend a weekend doing absolutely nothing other than eating, drinking and being merry.

Target date: January somethin'.

Once people start taking interest in the idea we can start to work around schedules and determine exactly which dates are most blogger-friendly. January seems to work pretty well for everyone that I've consulted. It's the time of year when you need a break from the Christmas madness, but are sitll riding high on that New Year's euphoria. It's before we start to settle in to that deep winter depression and before March brings about the NCAA Tournament (and the lineup of the 2007 Lollapalooza, which will be followed by more planning for trips to Chicago).

Add your comments at the bottom. What would work for you? Are you interested in the trip? What specific Chi-Town hot spots should we hit? Where should we stay? Can we meet the Winslow family (I hear that youngest daughter is a real hellcat!)?

I hope you're with me... at least some of you. I'm getting the hell out of here after December, it'd be a bajillion times funner not to go it alone!

2006-12-08T07:08:00.000-08:00

There's no explanation needed here.

Just enjoy Redd Foxx driving around in the snow and wait for the payoff at the end.

2006-12-07T05:32:00.000-08:00

Yesterday a series of events (that of course started on Fark.com) led me to revisit my childhood... and by my childhood I mean the most important part of it, network television. As a kid I watched a LOT of tv, probably even more than the average 80's kid, which may mean that I actually had a television attached to my face at all times in some sort of Orwellian experiment in behavior modification. As a result of this addiction to quality programming I still have countless hours of laugh-tracks, hijinks and wacky neighbors roaming the dark corners of my mind, occasionally popping up for a visit and causing me to think, "where in the hell did that come from?" or to ask myself exactly how it was that Gunnery Sgt. Alva "Gunny" Bricker managed to sneak into my dreams and seduce me with a flip of her hair.

As I pondered such questions I managed to open a flood gate that makes Hurricane Katrina look like one of those clips from America's Funniest Home Videos where the weiner dog runs back and forth between the sprinklers, repeatedly trying to get a drink of water as the family looks on in amusement. As the tidal wave roared, one thing became painfully obvious... I was going to have TV theme songs from my youth stuck in my head for the rest of the day. To most people, this may be akin to some type of torture, but for me it's just a pleasant way to spend the afternoon (who doesn't enjoy humming the theme to "Grand" for half an hour?). And, always being the "lemons into lemonade" type, I decided to turn this affliction into a blog entry detailing my top ten theme songs of my childhood.

Before we get to the list, I'd like to issue a disclaimer. You'll notice that several classics are missing (The Jeffersons, Sanford and Son, Mr. Belvedere, etc.)... this is no accident. I felt that some of the 80's era themes weren't properly represented in modern culture, so this list cashes in on some of my favorites that may have slipped your mind... and a couple that are still classics, but just too funny to pass up. So, enough with that, let's get started.

Click the links to hear the songs for yourself!

10. Just the Ten of Us

This spinoff from Growing Pains may have one of the most typical 80's theme songs of all time. It has all necessary componets: The passionate white guy attempting to put some soul into thirty seconds, the synth and above all, that one line that just doesn't seem to make any sense. I can recall being confused by one line of this song as a child, and after listening to it as an adult, well, I'm still perplexed. Does he say "I'm always bringing home second places, at the end of every one of my DAISIES" at about the fifteen second mark? Being that the line immediately following says something about "faces" I probably would have encouraged the songwriter to use something like, I don't know, races?

However, I wasn't as familiar with Coach Lubbock and his giant family as the author may have been... maybe that line was to illustrate his sensitive side. I can't really imagine the bristly, portly coach arranging flowers in his spare time, and with all of those kids I doubt that he did much other than Ms. Lubbock with said spare time. The show really wasn't very good, and let's be frank... the only reason that anyone tuned in was to spend 22 minutes staring at the Lubbock girls, mmmmmm.

Does it count as jailbait if the actors are actually of age?

9. Charles In Charge

I can't really remember the premise of this show or exactly how Charles came to be in charge. If memory serves, didn't they have a really hot 16-17 year old daughter? What was Charles, twenty years old!? Who puts a 20 year old beefcake in charge of their daughter? It sounds to me like perhaps social services should have been in charge. Either way, the show had a great theme song and I can't help but think of Chiachi walking out on Joanie to join this family. I can see how it went down...

"Joanie, I've had enough. You're too demanding, you've been trying to run my life ever since your brother went to Vietnam and never came back! I'm leaving you, I'm going somewhere where I can control my own destiny... a place where I can be in charge! Oh, and stop calling me Chiachi, I'm a grown man, my name is CHARLES!"

The rest is history.

8. Gimme A Break

Now, THIS is a theme song! Tony Award Winner Nell Carter's voice has never been put to better use than belting out the soulful woes of a middle-aged black woman just trying to make it in a white man's world. "Gimme a break/The game is survival!" sounds like a cry to women all over the world to stand up and be counted. However, I'm not really sure what it is that she was surviving. All-in-all she seemed to be doing pretty well. She lived in a nice house with a generally pleasant, yet still cantankerous, policeman and his family... not to mention an endless supply of blue dresses.

Honestly, I can't remember a whole lot of "surviving" going on in the show. Granted, that goldfish that she sucked up in the vaccum cleaner certainly had a tough go of it, and the very special episode where Joey Lawrence dressed in blackface for his school's production of... well, whatever his school was producing... would have certainly caused him some problems had they not lived in such an affluent neighborhood. Still, even with those issues at hand, I think that Nell may have overstated her struggle... but what do I know, maybe I SHOULD just give her a break, she sure deserves it.

I can only assume that this prepared him for his future role in "Dancing With The Stars"

7. Family Ties

Long before Michael Gross went off into the desert to fight off giant worms with Reba McIntyre and Michael J. Fox begain faking Parkinson's Disease to get attention, they starred in what may well be the defining 80's television show.

I have to confess something, I actually HATE this song. As a child I spent six months in the hospital trapped in a diabetic coma after accidentally hearing the full thirty seconds. My prognosis wasn't good, but I pulled through in the second season when Johnny Mathis was brought in to sing the theme. As bad as the song actually is, it's really the final three or four seconds that make me hide under the table in fear... the "shalalala." It's as if someone said, "Y'know, we've tried every thing that we can to make this the ultimate wuss song, but something's missing. I mean, we got that 8th grade girl's poetry notebook for the lyrics, we threw in the soft synth, hell... we even got Johnny Mathis to sing it, but something's missing. I've got it, could Johnny throw in a "shalalala" at the end? That would knock it out!"

6. My Two Dads

At eight years old I thought this theme song was just absolutely fantastic. It actually did sound like something that you'd hear on the radio (which, in hindsight is scathing commentary on the music industry) and I wasn't altogether sure that the cool dad wasn't the one singing. Their voices were similar, and he was such a COOL dad. I was sure that he was dividing his time between caring for his daughter, keeping up his cool loft apartment and cranking out cool jams like this one.

I can't remember exactly how she came to have two dads, but I'm going to bet that it wasn't some sort of cutting edge, socially relevant show dealing with two gay men struggling to raise their adopted teenage daughter in the city... in fact, her mother was probably just a whore. If only we had Maury Povich back then to settle this. What I DO remember is the hard-nosed judge with a heart of gold that stopped by once an episode to check on the situation, almost always finding that some sort of wackiness was afoot. These guys seem like fairly good parents, judge, why don't you just take Nell's advice and give 'em a break. Or better yet, why don't you stroll over to the 8 o'clock time slot and see what the hell's going on in that house that left Charles in charge? That girl's probably pregnant by now!

Oh, I also managed to forget that this show, inexplicably, featured Dick Butkus... and Giovanni Ribisi.

There are many things that I miss about the 80's, but perhaps none more than the starring roles of chest hair

5. Night Court

Who didn't love this song? That jazzy bass line, that kick-ass cowbell (was that a cowbell?) and that, uhm, clarinet (maybe)! There were only a few things certain in the 80's and one of them was that once that bass kicked in you were only thirty seconds away from antics the likes of which you've never seen. Dan would say something dirty (that I wouldn't get... I was eight), Christine would take offense, Roz would get sassy and Harry would bring it all back home with a set of chattering teeth. And who could forget the ending music, after you'd laughed yourself silly, when that creepy laugh would kick in? "Huh-huh, ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!" would bellow through living rooms all across America, just in time for Murphy Brown... or whatever it was that came on after Night Court.

As a child I always thought that if I ever ended up in legal trouble I'd try to get my hearing moved to night court, it just seemed so much more fun than regular court. I'm 27 now, and I've never been to a night court, but I figure they probably just operate in much the same way as a regular court. However, I assure you, if I ever end up standing before a judge at midnight I'll make sure to ask him to do a magic trick.

4. Three's Company

I know, I know, this shouldn't make the list. It's arguably one of the most famous television themes of all time. However, I just couldn't possibly make a list having anything to do with television without mentioning John Ritter. However, all sexual innuendo and Ropers aside, this theme song has to be one of the biggest disappointments in history. Before you crucify me for that statement, think about it.

The Three's Company theme kicks up with one of the funkiest, sexiest and most groove-a-licious guitar tracks in the history of TV. However, just as soon as you get settled in for some sexy funk, it takes a drastic turn and out steps the whitest lounge singer to ever put on a ruffled tuxedo shirt. What!? Where'd my funk go? How did that happen? The Three's Company theme is also famous for that uninteligible "dammagabadebouuuu" that comes right after the line "laughter is waiting for you." After more than 20 years of listening, then finally asking someone, I'm informed that it actually says, "down in our rendezvous." I'm not sure if it's actually satisfying to know that or disappointing to realize that the secret of life wasn't hidden in there.

3. 227

227 is, without a doubt, the single greatest show ever made on the topic of four sassy black women sitting on the porch. All sass aside, it also gave the world a weekly glimpse at Jackee', and who wasn't thankful for that? At six years old I was pretty sure that Jackee' was the sexiest woman alive, even though I wasn't sure what that meant or what I would do with her if she was my girlfriend... but that's okay, she's Jackee', she'd show me. Even more than Jackee', this show was a vehicle for Marla Gibbs, something that allowing TV audiences to revisit that sass that we'd been missing since The Jeffersons went off the air.

Can you imagine a sass competition between Marla Gibbs and Nell Carter? I'm picturing it looking like the battle scenes from 8 Mile. Dark club, the beat drops, Nell steps out in a giant blue dress and walks up to a waiting Marla. They bob their heads and start to sass it out when all of a sudden the record scratches! A hush falls over the room as heads start to turn to the back of the club. The crowd parts like the Red Sea as a dark horse contender walks through the door. The music to "Lose Yourself" kicks in as we see a defiant, yet determined Bea Arthur stomp through the crowd, there's vomit on her t-shirt, Sofia's spaghetti. Bea takes the mic from Nell, puts them both in their place, drops it and walks back out as the crowd erupts.

She loves reefer, but she loves coffee even more

2. The Golden Girls

Sass matters. If there was one dominant female theme in the 80's it was certainly that. No television show before or since has captured that kind of female sass quite like The Golden Girls, and very few shows had a theme song as memorable. Right now some of you are shaking your heads, trying to prented to yourself and those around you that you didn't watch The Golden Girls... oh yeah, well, if I started singing "Thank you for being a friend..." are you going to keep shaking your head or chime in with a "traveled down the road and back again?"

You know the answer to that question.

It was one of those rare moments when the song matched the show perfectly. Everyone watched this show, everyone knows that opening shot of Miami and everyone remembers Rue McLanahan storming down the hallway in her pink nightgown with that matching pink sleep mask on her head. Alright, I'm not defending it any longer, I love the show, I love the song and I'm humming it right now.

Finally, we've reached the number one spot in our top ten countdown. What could be left? What could possibly beat out these nine stellar candidates?

There's only one answer...

Oh Balki, how in the world will you and Cousin Larry EVER get out of THIS wacky mess?

1. Perfect Strangers

From the opening harmonica to the last "nothing's gonna stop me now," the Perfect Strangers theme is pure perfection. I can't think of a more memorable, more enjoyable or flat-out better prime time jam. I can remember being a kid, probably about six years old, listening to my dad explain to me exactly how a record store worked. I'd just gotten really into music and he wanted me to know exactly what section was what and how to find what I was looking for. He got to "soundtracks" and explained, "this is where they keep records with songs from movies, plays, tv shows and things like that." I remember like yesterday looking up at him and saying, "you mean that I could get the theme song to Perfect Strangers!? ON A TAPE!?" Much to my disappointment, a quick check of their inventory showed that no one had the foresight to release a soundtrack (or even a cassette single) featuring the theme song to Perfect Strangers... I'm still pissed off about that one.

The song isn't just good, it's REALLY good. It sounds like something that really should have been sung by Neil Diamond (hey Neil, there's still time) and just has "80's TV" written all over it. Perfect Strangers was undoubtedly my favorite show as a kid, Balki was my hero. The music on that show had staying power, to boot. Don't believe me? Well, a few months ago I was in our local wing-joint when the topic of Perfect Strangers came up in conversation. Somehow we had all managed to forget the lyrics to the theme song, a fact that clearly shamed each one of us. Thinking quickly, Kevin grabbed the nearest waitress and asked her if she could remember the words to the song. A few seconds later we had her singing the theme like a pro to the entire table as we joined in, one-by-one. I should also point out that Kevin remembered the words to the "Bipi-Babka Song" that Balki would belt out while cooking his favorite Meposian treat.

I hope you enjoyed the stroll down memory lane. Feel free to add comments on your favorite themes, ones that I may have missed or issues with the rankings. Prepare yourselves, Nathan is going to say something about "Small Wonder" any second.

2006-12-06T10:08:00.000-08:00

And now, a break from the serious world of global affairs and national politics.

I opened a myspace bulletin from San Diego's own, Ryan Tipton, today. In this bulletin I found a rather amusing image from Virgin Records, a mural depicting an unknown amount of popular bands and artist from the past few years. The different characters in the piece represent different bands (for example, you'll notice the guy smashing a pumpkin or the guns in the arrangements of roses). The goal was to find a band, post the name and then pass it on.

I decided to steal it.

So, if you click on the above link it should pop up a larger image, one that will give you more detail and allow you to scan through the fancy-shmancy art and see what you can find. I'll give you a jump start on the ones I can see:

Smashing Pumpkins
Guns N' Roses
The Eagles
The Gorillaz
The Rolling Stones
Nine Inch Nails
Eels
Black Flag
The Beach Boys
Radiohead
Fifty Cent
The Sex Pistols
The Pixies
Led Zepplin
The Lemonheads
Alice In Chains
Matchbox 20
The Dead Kennedys
Ratt
Korn
The Postal Service

I'm sure I could come up with more if I started digging, but that would take away all the fun!

Leave comments below with what you've found and where to find it! I'll give some sort of prize to the person that finds the most... but it probably won't be a very good prize.

2006-12-05T04:57:00.000-08:00

It certainly seems amazing, but the race for the White House will be kicking into full gear in a matter of months. It won't be long (ok, it will be a while) before good or bad, one way or the other, we're finally rid of the Bush Administration forever. I've been vocal about my feelings on this election since the Democrats (against my will) forced John Kerry down our throats in 2004, vocal in as much as I will no longer vote against my conscience and for the lesser of two evils. If the Democrats throw another loser to the wolves, then the Democrats lose my vote... after all, surely Ralph Nader will run again.

However, as the 2006 midterm elections proved, Democrats don't have to lose! I know it's a strange thought, but it is possible for Democrats to run candidates that actually reach people and those people actually turn into votes - votes that actually turn into victories! Since we've only heard rumors (and the occasional "way to early" announcement of a candidacy... I'm looking at you Tom Vilsack) and speculation as to who wants to take the torch in '08 it would be unwise to start backing your horse just yet. So, instead of preaching about candidates, let me share with you a five point plan that could very well win the White House in 2008 for the beef nuggets drifting slightly to the left side of the bowl in our otherwise moderate political stew.

I've included a few faces of possible Democratic challengers just to break up the text. Four of the five of these would make for a fine leader... one I'm not so sure about. However, you can't start listing Democrats without including Hilary Clinton, I think there' s a law against it.

Point 1: Universal Healthcare

This has been a Democratic stump-speech issue dating back to when Bill Clinton decided to make it his baby back in 1992. A Republican controlled congress managed to thwart President Clinton at every turn and measures to improve healthcare in our country died on the floor. The key to this issue is to reassure the American people that socialized medicine doesn't mean taking away their doctors. The average American with health insurance, confident in their family doctor and generally satisfied with their medical plan doesn't like the idea of the government telling them where they need to take their kids for broken bones and flu outbreaks. It's important that we stress to these people that a new medical system could be put in place to assist the millions of Americans currently living and working uninsured. Clarify that we're not talking about mandatory compliance, but rather a safety net for those that can't afford to protect their families against illness.

It's also key to illustrate that this is good for EVERYONE'S pocketbook. Universal healthcare could drive down the cost of prescription medicine and healthcare in general (if the government's picking up the tab then your prescription costs will drop, that's a guarantee). Thus, even if you're not participating in the program, you'll reap the benefits with lower out-of-pocket costs should an illness befall you or your family.

Point 2: Reducing Foreign Oil Dependency

Practically everyone in this country agrees that we have to do something to curb our need for oil from countries that, well, hate us. It doesn't take a PhD to get your head around the concept that tying up our economic and military interests in hostile nations just to keep our cars on the road is a bad idea. This issue could have a five-point plan as well, but let's just brush over it.

We need to come at this idea from all directions. Using the vast desert and ample sunlight in the southwestern region of the country as giant solar collectors is step one. These areas are largely uninhabited and can generate enough power to run a major U.S. city with minimal intrusion on the scenic beauty of the area. The plains of the midwest could be dotted with windmills, providing yet another energy source that is not only eco-friendly but rather easy on the eye. Farmers in these areas could be compensated through government grants for turning over a few acres to wind power. These same farmers, along with others in Rural America, could turn vast corn crops into Ethanol to be used as a partial fuel substitute in modern vehicles. Finally, my favorite alternate energy source, COAL. Montana already has measures in place to turn the state's vast, often untapped coal resources into a clean-burning fuel that can be poured into your car's gas tank right now!

This four-pronged attack on fuel in this country is not only good for the environment, but also good for consumers. It will create thousands of jobs in Rural America, good paying jobs for people that are quite frankly in desperate need of the work. It gives hope to the tobacco farmer that's quickly becoming obsolete and could create new boomtowns across the nation. Compound those methods with strict guidelines in the automobile industry requiring higher mileage vehicles and you've cut our dependency on foreign oil in half, if not more. Once again, this helps your wallet. If fuel is cheap and readily available and cars are getting a minimum of 25 mpg, hundreds of extra dollars will be flowing into your pocket every year!

Point 3: Better Public Schools

Currently much of our funding for public schools comes from local property taxes. At first this may not sound like such a terrible idea, but think about the ramifications. To put it simply, low-income neighborhoods have low-income schools. If the average acre of land in your neighborhood sells for $100,000 then you are clearly going to be sending your children to a better school than your counterpart living in an area where the average piece of property could go for a tenth of that, or less. This has a crippling effect on rural and inner-city schools where property values are considerably lower than those in more affluent neighborhoods. Not only does this deprive millions of Americans of a quality education, but it also perpetuates the cycle of poverty that has a stranglehold on much of our nation. This system is as antequated as the poll tax and needs to go... now. The answer, more federal funding for low-income schools and an even disbursement policy for all school districts based on the number of students... not the price of their house.

Furthermore, we need an increase in grant programs encouraging our best and brightest young teachers to work in these areas. Young teachers, fresh from college, should be excused of ALL student loans in exchange for working a minimum of five years in either rural or inner-city schools. Many such programs already exist, but often only cover partial reimbursement of tuition costs and/or don't live up to the hype. In addition to recruiting young talent, we should reward the established talent that already exists in our schools. In any other job excellent performance is rewarded. Whether it be a raise, a bonus or even a promotion, top-shelf employees are given some sort of compensation for their efforts. Teachers, however, remain teachers until they retire and work for a set salary based on education level and time of employment. If a teacher shows exemplary work, reward that educator! Raises and bonuses for increased test scores not only encourage our public schools to improve, but the benefit the entire community.

Oh, and how about more scholarship and grant money, allowing more and more children from impoverished regions of the country to attend college for free or dramatically discounted rates? Back to school programs for non-traditional students? The sky's the limit!

Point 4: Ethics and Global Responsibility

Whether you support or denounce President Bush, there are two undeniable truths... he hasn't exactly instilled faith in the government for the majority of Americans and he has alienated many nations that we once considered allies.

As each day passes, China and India take a few more steps toward becoming global economic superpowers. In fact, statistics prove that in my lifetime (God willing I live that long) I'll see China surpass the United States and become the biggest economic and military superpower in the world. How did that happen? It happened through outsourcing, apathy and gross overspending. It happend through disregard of foreign nations and underestimating the ingenuity of your fellow man. It happend because we fell asleep at the wheel.

In 2008 we need to take initiative in this country to strengthen our resolve and re-establish ourselves as the world's lone superpower. Contrary to what some may say, this isn't done by smashing other nations into the ground with our latest war machines. This is done with negotiation and compromise. It's done by earning the respect and trust of other nations. Doing so not only makes America stronger, but it goes a long way in combating Anti-American sentiment worldwide, which happens to be the leading cause of terrorism. If we force ourselves to think globally and sit down not only with our friends, but with our perceived enemies, we can avoid unneccessary conflict and bring America back to what it once was... the America that my Grandfather talked about, that sadly I can't remember.

Point 5: Taxes and a Living Wage

To put this blunty, the wealthy should pay more taxes than the underprivilidged. In my estimation, that's a no-brainer. A household income of $50,000 can't afford to contribute at the same level as one that may reach into six or seven figures. If you've been blessed with wealth, then it's your civic duty to share that wealth with those less fortunate. Tax cuts, even if they're not for you, always sound like a good idea... however, the money has to come from somewhere. Surely the four ideas listed above seemed like fine ideas too, but how do we pay for them? We pay for them by demanding that the top 2% of Americans pay their fair share.

There should be an immediate investigation into exactly what a "living wage" is in this country and how we can bring our minimum wage workers into that pay scale while simultaneously combating inflation. Don't tell me that it can't be done, we're America, we can do anything. Futhermore, a complete overhaul of the tax system needs to be put in place by 2010. Those making less than $16,000 annually should be exempt from federal income tax, along with other tax-exempt measures for single parents and families with children making less than $30,000 combined. A raise in the minimum wage, with a reduced tax burden and inflation control will not only bring the poorest among us up to a basic-but-comfortable lifestyle, it will also reduce crime and create openings for larger tax-bases in the future... both good for you personally.

Now, there's no guarantee that these ideas will really click with the American people, but at least they feel fresh. American apathy can be directly attributed to the lack of vision in our leadership. In 2004 we saw a host of candidates standing on a stage and asking for the Democratic Nomination for the Presidency of the United States, and with the exception of Dennis Kucinich they all seemed to be rattling on about the same thing. The same ideas, very slightly (if at all) twisted to sound like their own, rambling on about absolutely nothing. It's hard to get excited about that, it was hard even for me and I obsess over this stuff.

I'm not here to tell these guys and girls how to run their railroad. I'm just throwing out some ideas... take 'em or leave 'em. But Democrats, don't miss the point of what I've been saying. It's not THOSE specific ideas that win voters over... it's ideas in general. Come with something new! If you can tell the American People something new, something that they haven't already heard a thousand times from countless lying politicians, they'll listen. And you know what, once you have them listening, having their vote is just a few minutes away.

2006-12-01T07:55:00.000-08:00

Let me take a moment to display my own ignorance.

Until a few days ago I wasn't aware of what was really going on in Darfur.

I knew that something akin to a civil war had been raging in the area for years, I knew that the word genocide seemed to keep coming up and I knew that we were supposed to do something about it. However, being a leftist is hard work. There are so many causes, so many wrongs to right and so many things to find yourself up in arms over that it's difficult to keep up with what particular thing I need to be saving from day-to-day. Besides, I have to keep up with the important things... like Anna Nicole Smith's baby daddy woes, the Britney/K-Fed split and who Lindsey Lohan was getting drunk with last night.

One night while watching the Nancy Grace show (and hoping that she didn't kill anyone this week) I saw an ad for the coalition, Save Darfur. The numbers were astounding, the testimonials were heartbreaking and what I was hearing gave me pause... it even caused me to sit straight up and take notice. It's incredible... it's immeasurable... this suffering can't be real. If it is, why haven't I heard more about it? Why isn't it the lead story on the news every night? Oh, wait, I forgot... Paris Hilton did something skanky today.

Anyway, I won't get all holier-than-thou on you, I'm just as guilty. However, I want to make something clear: what's going on in Darfur is worse than you can imagine, and unless we take personal responsibility for helping these people the blood is on our hands. OUR hands. MY hands. YOUR hands.

I won't bore you with long-winded explanations as to exactly what's going on, I'll let you read up on that yourself. This wikipedia article is packed with valuable information and remarkably concise, given the length and nature of the conflict. Save Darfur has a fairly user-friendly background on their site, so if you have even less time than the wiki article will allow, venture over there.

Just to give you an idea of what's going on, let me share some pictures of what disease, fammine and unspeakable acts of human cruelty have brought these innocent people. I'll warn you, these images are graphic, but I feel like we could use a human face here.

A child burned during a Sudanese bombing campaign.

Starvation claims another life as the Janjaweed violently keeps aid from reaching refugee camps.

Bodies line the streets.

Finally, and simply, sadness.

This isn't a Democrat or Republican issue. This isn't a conservative or liberal issue. Some of the most conservative (Tancredo of CO) , liberal (Feingold of WI) and moderate (McCain (AZ), Lieberman (CT)) have called for action in support of these people. We must do our part as Americans and as human beings to bring an end to this needless suffering.

Follow this link to the Save Darfur site to make a donation or buy a t-shirt, every dime helps to raise awareness. After doing that, why not click here and send a message to your Congressman or (if you're local) Senator Mitch McConnell? It only takes a second and could make all the difference in the world.

Thanks for making it this far. Real human life is on the line here, we must do our part, however small it may be.

2006-11-30T05:27:00.000-08:00

As you may have recently heard, Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad has put pen to paper and addressed the citizens of the United States personally. This letter was released yesterday to the United Nations and then subsequently to the U.S. media... which subsequently seemed to lose it.

You'd think that in this day and age, with tensions between the governments of The United States and Iran tightening on a minute-by-minute basis, modern media outlets would relish the idea of sharing a glimpse into the mind of the opposition with the citizens of the United States. Unfortunately, our media seems to have chosen to report snippets of the message rather than broadcasting it in its entirety. After a few minutes of digging (I can't believe that it actually took a few minutes of digging... Google "Paris Hilton's favorite cocktail" and I'll bet that it comes up on the front page) I was able to find the text on CNN.com, I will paste it below.

This isn't an effort on my part to defend the Iranian government... I want to make that clear. Iran isn't exactly known as a hot-bed of civil liberties and/or human rights. However, neither is the U.S. these days. I'm presenting this to you simply because it's relevant. With the unthinkable prospect of military action in Iran looming over our heads I feel that there is a sense of urgency in the air. This urgency demands that we ALL learn more about this nation, the people and their history. This urgency demands that we look for common ground and negotiate, bilaterally if we must. This urgency demands that we put down that copy of People Magazine and demand a peaceful resolution to our differences, lest we find ourselves in another, and considerably bloodier, Iraq.

I'll be direct with you, the prospect of war with Iran scares the hell out of me. I'm 27 years old, so draft or no draft I won't be fighting in the desert any time soon. I live in rural Eastern Kentucky, so nukes or no nukes I doubt I'll be ducking and covering either. However, another poorly-planned quagmire in the Middle East (atop our current two poorly-planned quagmires) will not only throw the entire region into chaos, but will certainly bring not only more terrorism to our streets but international scorn on a level that would make our Iraqi invasion look like D-Day.

One last thing, before I get on with the letter. Can anyone explain to me exactly why we're angry with Iran? Maybe that seems like a silly question, but maybe not. So many Americans are up in arms, yelling that we must "do something about Iran now, before they get the bomb!" But can anyone point to a specific reason that we're at odds with this country? I can't recall being threatened by Iran in any real capacity since Jimmy Carter was president... and in the years following that incident we even sold them weapons!

Just because our president stands up on national television and declares a country to be evil, with no hard data to back it up, doesn't make it so. If you don't believe me, then ask yourself this... if you could take it back, would you still have our brave men and women marching through Iraq right now? Keep that in your mind as you pick through those Thanksgiving leftovers, shop for Christmas gifts and relax in your warm, comfortable living room with your widescreen tv and recliner.

Let's not do this again... please.

(CNN) -- In the name of God, the Compassionate, the Merciful

O, Almighty God, bestow upon humanity the perfect human being promised to all by You, and make us among his followers.

Noble Americans,
Were we not faced with the activities of the US administration in this part of the world and the negative ramifications of those activities on the daily lives of our peoples, coupled with the many wars and calamities caused by the US administration as well as the tragic consequences of US interference in other countries;

Were the American people not God-fearing, truth-loving, and justice-seeking, while the US administration actively conceals the truth and impedes any objective portrayal of current realities;

And if we did not share a common responsibility to promote and protect freedom and human dignity and integrity;

Then, there would have been little urgency to have a dialogue with you.
While Divine providence has placed Iran and the United States geographically far apart, we should be cognizant that human values and our common human spirit, which proclaim the dignity and exalted worth of all human beings, have brought our two great nations of Iran and the United States closer together.

Both our nations are God-fearing, truth-loving and justice-seeking, and both seek dignity, respect and perfection.

Both greatly value and readily embrace the promotion of human ideals such as compassion, empathy, respect for the rights of human beings, securing justice and equity, and defending the innocent and the weak against oppressors and bullies.

We are all inclined towards the good, and towards extending a helping hand to one another, particularly to those in need.

We all deplore injustice, the trampling of peoples' rights and the intimidation and humiliation of human beings.

We all detest darkness, deceit, lies and distortion, and seek and admire salvation, enlightenment, sincerity and honesty.

The pure human essence of the two great nations of Iran and the United States testify to the veracity of these statements.

Noble Americans,

Our nation has always extended its hand of friendship to all other nations of the world.
Hundreds of thousands of my Iranian compatriots are living amongst you in friendship and peace, and are contributing positively to your society. Our people have been in contact with you over the past many years and have maintained these contacts despite the unnecessary restrictions of US authorities.

As mentioned, we have common concerns, face similar challenges, and are pained by the sufferings and afflictions in the world.

We, like you, are aggrieved by the ever-worsening pain and misery of the Palestinian people. Persistent aggressions by the Zionists are making life more and more difficult for the rightful owners of the land of Palestine. In broad day-light, in front of cameras and before the eyes of the world, they are bombarding innocent defenseless civilians, bulldozing houses, firing machine guns at students in the streets and alleys, and subjecting their families to endless grief.
No day goes by without a new crime.

Palestinian mothers, just like Iranian and American mothers, love their children, and are painfully bereaved by the imprisonment, wounding and murder of their children. What mother wouldn't?

For 60 years, the Zionist regime has driven millions of the inhabitants of Palestine out of their homes. Many of these refugees have died in the Diaspora and in refugee camps. Their children have spent their youth in these camps and are aging while still in the hope of returning to homeland.

You know well that the US administration has persistently provided blind and blanket support to the Zionist regime, has emboldened it to continue its crimes, and has prevented the UN Security Council from condemning it.

Who can deny such broken promises and grave injustices towards humanity by the US administration?

Governments are there to serve their own people. No people wants to side with or support any oppressors. But regrettably, the US administration disregards even its own public opinion and remains in the forefront of supporting the trampling of the rights of the Palestinian people.
Let's take a look at Iraq. Since the commencement of the US military presence in Iraq, hundreds of thousands of Iraqis have been killed, maimed or displaced. Terrorism in Iraq has grown exponentially. With the presence of the US military in Iraq, nothing has been done to rebuild the ruins, to restore the infrastructure or to alleviate poverty. The US Government used the pretext of the existence of weapons of mass destruction in Iraq, but later it became clear that that was just a lie and a deception.

Although Saddam was overthrown and people are happy about his departure, the pain and suffering of the Iraqi people has persisted and has even been aggravated.
In Iraq, about one hundred and fifty thousand American soldiers, separated from their families and loved ones, are operating under the command of the current US administration. A substantial number of them have been killed or wounded and their presence in Iraq has tarnished the image of the American people and government.

Their mothers and relatives have, on numerous occasions, displayed their discontent with the presence of their sons and daughters in a land thousands of miles away from US shores. American soldiers often wonder why they have been sent to Iraq.

I consider it extremely unlikely that you, the American people, consent to the billions of dollars of annual expenditure from your treasury for this military misadventure.

Noble Americans,

You have heard that the US administration is kidnapping its presumed opponents from across the globe and arbitrarily holding them without trial or any international supervision in horrendous prisons that it has established in various parts of the world. God knows who these detainees actually are, and what terrible fate awaits them.

You have certainly heard the sad stories of the Guantanamo and Abu-Ghraib prisons. The US administration attempts to justify them through its proclaimed "war on terror." But every one knows that such behavior, in fact, offends global public opinion, exacerbates resentment and thereby spreads terrorism, and tarnishes the US image and its credibility among nations.

The US administration's illegal and immoral behavior is not even confined to outside its borders. You are witnessing daily that under the pretext of "the war on terror," civil liberties in the United States are being increasingly curtailed. Even the privacy of individuals is fast losing its meaning. Judicial due process and fundamental rights are trampled upon. Private phones are tapped, suspects are arbitrarily arrested, sometimes beaten in the streets, or even shot to death.

I have no doubt that the American people do not approve of this behavior and indeed deplore it.
The US administration does not accept accountability before any organization, institution or council. The US administration has undermined the credibility of international organizations, particularly the United Nations and its Security Council. But, I do not intend to address all the challenges and calamities in this message.

The legitimacy, power and influence of a government do not emanate from its arsenals of tanks, fighter aircrafts, missiles or nuclear weapons. Legitimacy and influence reside in sound logic, quest for justice and compassion and empathy for all humanity. The global position of the United States is in all probability weakened because the administration has continued to resort to force, to conceal the truth, and to mislead the American people about its policies and practices.
Undoubtedly, the American people are not satisfied with this behavior and they showed their discontent in the recent elections. I hope that in the wake of the mid-term elections, the administration of President Bush will have heard and will heed the message of the American people.

My questions are the following:

Is there not a better approach to governance?

Is it not possible to put wealth and power in the service of peace, stability, prosperity and the happiness of all peoples through a commitment to justice and respect for the rights of all nations, instead of aggression and war?

We all condemn terrorism, because its victims are the innocent.

But, can terrorism be contained and eradicated through war, destruction and the killing of hundreds of thousands of innocents?

If that were possible, then why has the problem not been resolved?
The sad experience of invading Iraq is before us all.

What has blind support for the Zionists by the US administration brought for the American people? It is regrettable that for the US administration, the interests of these occupiers supersedes the interests of the American people and of the other nations of the world.
What have the Zionists done for the American people that the US administration considers itself obliged to blindly support these infamous aggressors? Is it not because they have imposed themselves on a substantial portion of the banking, financial, cultural and media sectors?
I recommend that in a demonstration of respect for the American people and for humanity, the right of Palestinians to live in their own homeland should be recognized so that millions of Palestinian refugees can return to their homes and the future of all of Palestine and its form of government be determined in a referendum. This will benefit everyone.

Now that Iraq has a Constitution and an independent Assembly and Government, would it not be more beneficial to bring the US officers and soldiers home, and to spend the astronomical US military expenditures in Iraq for the welfare and prosperity of the American people? As you know very well, many victims of Katrina continue to suffer, and countless Americans continue to live in poverty and homelessness.

I'd also like to say a word to the winners of the recent elections in the US:
The United States has had many administrations; some who have left a positive legacy, and others that are neither remembered fondly by the American people nor by other nations.
Now that you control an important branch of the US Government, you will also be held to account by the people and by history.

If the US Government meets the current domestic and external challenges with an approach based on truth and Justice, it can remedy some of the past afflictions and alleviate some of the global resentment and hatred of America. But if the approach remains the same, it would not be unexpected that the American people would similarly reject the new electoral winners, although the recent elections, rather than reflecting a victory, in reality point to the failure of the current administration's policies. These issues had been extensively dealt with in my letter to President Bush earlier this year.

To sum up:

It is possible to govern based on an approach that is distinctly different from one of coercion, force and injustice.

It is possible to sincerely serve and promote common human values, and honesty and compassion.

It is possible to provide welfare and prosperity without tension, threats, imposition or war.

It is possible to lead the world towards the aspired perfection by adhering to unity, monotheism, morality and spirituality and drawing upon the teachings of the Divine Prophets.

Then, the American people, who are God-fearing and followers of Divine religions, will overcome every difficulty.

What I stated represents some of my anxieties and concerns.

I am confident that you, the American people, will play an instrumental role in the establishment of justice and spirituality throughout the world. The promises of the Almighty and His prophets will certainly be realized, Justice and Truth will prevail and all nations will live a true life in a climate replete with love, compassion and fraternity.

The US governing establishment, the authorities and the powerful should not choose irreversible paths. As all prophets have taught us, injustice and transgression will eventually bring about decline and demise. Today, the path of return to faith and spirituality is open and unimpeded.
We should all heed the Divine Word of the Holy Qur'an:

"But those who repent, have faith and do good may receive Salvation. Your Lord, alone, creates and chooses as He will, and others have no part in His choice; Glorified is God and Exalted above any partners they ascribe to Him." (28:67-68)

I pray to the Almighty to bless the Iranian and American nations and indeed all nations of the world with dignity and success.

Mahmoud Ahmadinejad
President of the Islamic Republic of Iran
29 November 2006

2006-11-28T08:30:00.000-08:00

Christmas time is upon us... or at least the tornado of commericalism leading up to the birth of our six-foot inflatable yard ornament Lord is upon us. I'd like to start a new Christmas tradition on my blog this year. Instead of reading The Night Before Christmas on December 24th, I'd like to share something else on the day after "Cyber-Monday."

If you're not familiar with David Sedars, let me take a second to beg you to rush right out to your local bookstore and purchase any and everything that he's put to paper. It doesn't take more than a couple of hours to read one of his books cover-to-cover, and I assure you that you'll thank yourself for investing a lazy afternoon. He's brilliant, funny, touching and above all really, really damn funny... did I mention that he's funny?

Anyway, it's now time for the first annual (yes, I know that first annual is a grammar no-no, but I like the way it sounds) Blogjammin' re-printing of my favorite Sedaris Christmas tale... enjoy!

Six To Eight Black Men
By David Sedaris

What really interests me are the local gun laws. Can I carry a
concealed weapon, and if so, under what circumstances? What's the
waiting period for a tommy gun? Could I buy a Glock 17 if I were
recently divorced or fired from my job? I've learned from
experience that it's best to lead into this subject as delicately
as possible, especially if you and the local citizen are alone and
enclosed in a relatively small space. Bide your time, though, and
you can walk away with some excellent stories. I've heard, for
example, that the blind can legally hunt in both Texas and
Michigan. They must be accompanied by a sighted companion, but
still, it seems a bit risky. You wouldn't want a blind person
driving a car or piloting a plane, so why hand him a rifle? What
sense does that make? I ask about guns not because I want one of
my own but because the answers vary so widely from state to state.
In a country that's become so homogenous, I'm reassured by these
last touches of regionalism.

Guns aren't really an issue in Europe, so when I'm traveling
abroad, my first question usually relates to barnyard animals.
"What do your roosters say?" is a good icebreaker, as every country
has its own unique interpretation. In Germany, where dogs bark "vow
vow" and both the frog and the duck say "quack," the rooster greets
the dawn with a hearty "kik-a-ricki." Greek roosters crow "kiri-a-
kee," and in France they scream "coco-rico," which sounds like one
of those horrible premixed cocktails with a pirate on the label.
When told that an American rooster says "cock-a-doodle-doo," my
hosts look at me with disbelief and pity.
"When do you open your Christmas presents?" is another good
conversation starter as it explains a lot about national character.
People who traditionally open gifts on Christmas Eve seem a bit
more pious and family oriented than those who wait until Christmas
morning. They go to mass, open presents, eat a late meal, return
to church the following morning, and devote the rest of the day to
eating another big meal. Gifts are generally reserved for
children, and the parents tend not to go overboard. It's nothing
I'd want for myself, but I suppose it's fine for those who prefer
food and family to things of real value.

In France and Germany, gifts are exchanged on Christmas Eve, while
in Holland the children receive presents on December 5, in
celebration of Saint Nicholas Day. It sounded sort of quaint until
I spoke to a man named Oscar, who filled me in on a few of the
details as we walked from my hotel to the Amsterdam train station.
Unlike the jolly, obese American Santa, Saint Nicholas is painfully
thin and dresses not unlike the pope, topping his robes with a tall
hat resembling an embroidered tea cozy. The outfit, I was told, is
a carryover from his former career, when he served as a bishop in
Turkey.

One doesn't want to be too much of a cultural chauvinist, but this
seemed completely wrong to me. For starters, Santa didn't use to
do anything. He's not retired, and, more important, he has
nothing to do with Turkey. The climate's all wrong, and people
wouldn't appreciate him. When asked how he got from Turkey to the
North Pole, Oscar told me with complete conviction that Saint
Nicholas currently resides in Spain, which again is simply not
true. While he could probably live wherever he wanted, Santa chose
the North Pole specifically because it is harsh and isolated. No
one can spy on him, and he doesn't have to worry about people
coming to the door. Anyone can come to the door in Spain, and in
that outfit, he'd most certainly be recognized. On top of that,
aside from a few pleasantries, Santa doesn't speak Spanish. He
knows enough to get by, but he's not fluent, and he certainly
doesn't eat tapas.

While our Santa flies on a sled, Saint Nicholas arrives by boat
and then transfers to a white horse. The event is televised, and
great crowds gather at the waterfront to greet him. I'm not sure
if there's a set date, but he generally docks in late November and
spends a few weeks hanging out and asking people what they want.
"Is it just him alone?" I asked. "Or does he come with backup?"
Oscar's English was close to perfect, but he seemed thrown by a
term normally reserved for police reinforcement.
"Helpers," I said. "Does he have any elves?"
Maybe I'm just overly sensitive, but I couldn't help but feel
personally insulted when Oscar denounced the very idea as grotesque
and unrealistic. "Elves," he said. "They're just so silly."
The words silly and unrealistic were redefined when I learned that
Saint Nicholas travels with what was consistently described as "six
to eight black men." I asked several Dutch people to narrow it
down, but none of them could give me an exact number. It was always
"six to eight," which seems strange, seeing as they've had hundreds
of years to get a decent count.

The six to eight black men were characterized as personal slaves
until the mid-fifties, when the political climate changed and it
was decided that instead of being slaves they were just good
friends. I think history has proven that something usually comes
between slavery and friendship, a period of time marked not by
cookies and quiet times beside the fire but by bloodshed and
mutual hostility. They have such violence in Holland, but rather
than duking it out among themselves, Santa and his former slaves
decided to take it out on the public. In the early years, if a
child was naughty, Saint Nicholas and the six to eight black men
would beat him with what Oscar described as "the small branch of
a tree."
"A switch?"
"Yes," he said. "That's it. They'd kick him and beat him with a
switch. Then, if the youngster was really bad, they'd put him in
a sack and take him back to Spain."
"Saint Nicholas would kick you?"
"Well, not anymore," Oscar said. "Now he just pretends to kick
you."
"And the six to eight black men?"
"Them, too."
He considered this to be progressive, but in a way I think it's
almost more perverse than the original punishment. "I'm going to
hurt you, but not really." How many times have we fallen for that
line? The fake slap invariably makes contact, adding the elements
of shock and betrayal to what had previously been plain, old-
fashioned fear. What kind of Santa spends his time pretending to
kick people before stuffing them into a canvas sack? Then, of
course, you've got the six to eight former slaves who could
potentially go off at any moment. This, I think, is the greatest
difference between us and the Dutch. While a certain segment of
our population might be perfectly happy with the arrangement, if
you told the average white American that six to eight nameless
black men would be sneaking into his house in the middle of the
night, he would barricade the doors and arm himself with whatever
he could get his hands on.
"Six to eight, did you say?"

In the years before central heating, Dutch children would leave
their shoes by the fireplace, the promise being that unless they
planned to beat you, kick you, or stuff you into a sack, Saint
Nicholas and the six to eight black men would fill your clogs
with presents. Aside from the threats of violence and kidnapping,
it's not much different from hanging your stockings from the
mantel. Now that so few people have a working fireplace, Dutch
children are instructed to leave their shoes beside the radiator,
furnace, or space heater. Saint Nicholas and the six to eight black
men arrive on horses, which jump from the yard onto the roof. At
this point, I guess, they either jump back down and use the door,
or they stay put and vaporize through the pipes and electrical
wires. Oscar wasn't too clear about the particulars, but, really,
who can blame him? We have the same problem with our Santa. He's
supposed to use the chimney, but if you don't have one, he still
manages to come through. It's best not to think about it too hard.
While eight flying reindeer are a hard pill to swallow, our
Christmas story remains relatively simple. Santa lives with his
wife in a remote polar village and spends one night a year
traveling around the world. If you're bad, he leaves you coal. If
you're good and live in America, he'll give you just about anything
you want. We tell our children to be good and send them off to bed,
where they lie awake, anticipating their great bounty. A Dutch
parent has a decidedly hairier story to relate, telling his
children, "Listen, you might want to pack a few of your things
together before you go to bed. The former bishop from Turkey will
be coming along with six to eight black men. They might put some
candy in your shoes, they might stuff you in a sack and take you
to Spain, or they might just pretend to kick you. We don't know
for sure, but we want you to be prepared."

This is the reward for living in Holland. As a child you get to
hear this story, and as an adult you get to turn around and repeat
it. As an added bonus, the government has thrown in legalized drugs
and prostitution-so what's not to love about being Dutch?
Oscar finished his story just as we arrived at the station. He was
a polite and interesting guy-very good company-but when he offered
to wait until my train arrived, I begged off, saying I had some
calls to make. Sitting alone in the vast terminal, surrounded by
other polite, seemingly interesting Dutch people, I couldn't help
but feel second-rate. Yes, it was a small country, but it had six
to eight black men and a really good bedtime story. Being a fairly
competitive person, I felt jealous, then bitter, and was edging
toward hostile when I remembered the blind hunter tramping off
into the Michigan forest. He might bag a deer, or he might happily
shoot his sighted companion in the stomach. He may find his way
back to the car, or he may wander around for a week or two before
stumbling through your front door. We don't know for sure, but in
pinning that license to his chest, he inspires the sort of
narrative that ultimately makes me proud to be an American.

2006-11-27T08:55:00.000-08:00

I just heard word that artist, Powell County legend and all-around wonderful lady Nellie Meadows passed away this morning. She will be missed not only by those in our community, but mourners nationwide who fell in love with her work. Original Nellie Meadows art graced everything from the State Democratic Party to the private collection of First Lady and Senator Hilary Clinton.

If there's one thing that we should remember about this vibrant woman of 90+ years, it's that beauty can be found in nearly everything, from spring violets to an Ale-8 bottle. She will be missed, arrangements are pending.

2006-11-21T05:42:00.000-08:00

Today I'd like to share with you something near and dear to my heart... Conway Twitty.

Sure, I could go on and on about the wonders of that deep, yet gentle tremble in his voice, the stylish way in which his gold chains always managed to form a perfect v-shape around his ample chest hair or even the tremendous might of his legendary pompadour... but instead, let's get to the man himself.

To do that I decided to go with the old adage that a picture is worth 1000 words. So, allow me to present to you the top five images of Conway Twitty (that I could find on Google Image Search in about twenty minutes)..

Number 5

In this picture we are given a peek into that rare moment when Conway's hair was stuck in a much maligned transitional period. The rockabilly days now past him, Conway felt it necessary to move into a more mature look by casting off his rebellious (and impressive) pompadour. The above hairstyle only hung around for a year or so, eventually evolving into the carefully groomed perm that younger listeners (myself included) tend to associate with Mr. Twitty.

However, it's important to remember this period in time when a man with hair as legendary as his voice made a symbolic leap from honky-tonk king to sexy grandpa. Truly, a magic moment in fashion history... except for maybe the shirt.

Number 4

Here we see a screen capture from Conway's first performance of "You've Never Been This Far Before" on the now distant memory that was Hee Haw.

Of the countless reasons to love this picture, allow me to focus on just two. First, it's difficult not to notice the bold fashion statement that is his pink polyester suit. To walk out on national television in such a garment, tastefully accented with the pastel mock-turtleneck, took not only courage but the inner desire to make a statement. With this ensemble Conway is declaring his overwhelming masculinity by draping himself in soft, inviting hues of pink. I ask you, would David Allan Coe have had the courage or maxi to pull this off? Certainly not, and not only has DAC killed a man, but he allegedly has a tattoo of a spider on his penis.

Secondly, let's note that in this image we can enjoy not one, not two, but THREE Conways! Thanks to some clever art direction on the Hee Haw set we get to see the polyester troubadour from contrasting angles, giving us the full Twitty experience as he takes us on a breathy, lusty ride into the boudoir of a stranger. Conway didn't need a spider tattoo on his penis to impress your woman, just thirty minutes and a bottle of Thunderbird.

Number 3

Conway was a generous, civic minded individual. The above image illustrates that perfectly. Here we see that Mr. Twitty chose to generously sponsor (and perhaps even coach or play for) what appears to be a softball team (or some other sort of athletic organization). If you're Conway Twitty, what else could you POSSIBLY name your team other than the "Twitty Birds?"

The yellow and red is a nice touch, not to mention the high-fashion knee socks. He even chose to sit next to "Kelly" instead of the skybox that he could most certainly afford. That's Conway for you, a man of the people, sitting in the crowd and having a hot dog on a warm summer night and enjoying our national past time. It's unfortunate that the hat is obscuring his well quaffed shock of black hair, thus making it difficult to judge the age of the photo. However, upon closer inspection it seems that it's more in line with his pomp-to-perm transitional hair (see #5).

Also note that Conway's jersey number is 1. Damn right, Twit-Man, you're always number one in our hearts.

Number 2

What could possibly be more Conway Twitty than our number two photo? Here we see the ladies man at his most dapper and jaunty best. It's easy to understand the power he wielded over the opposite sex with a mere glance at this image, his insatiable love for the ladies only outdone by his formidable wardrobe.

We can tell by the above that the Mississippi Man's incomparable sexual prowess had the power to leave mountains of quivering female bodies in his wake. Almost a sexual atomic bomb, one push of the big red button (on his sharply snug vest) could not only send an orgasmic shockwave through a room, it could leave the area uninhabitable for generations to come.

Number 1

Could there be any doubt that this particular image would rank at the top of our countdown?

Here we're given another rare glimpse, this time into the more playful side of Conway. He's older now, chronicled by his ever-growing yet perfectly groomed perm. With this picture Mr. Twitty is telling us, "I may be in my golden years, but I can still put on a pair of obscenely short shorts and a Lacoste shirt and get down with the best of 'em." I can just see Conway on the tennis courts right now, lobbing balls over the net, scoring with every backhand, and of course winning every game "40-Love."

As you go through your day, be reminded of the journey that took a young dreamer from Friars Branch, Mississippi to this very blog entry more than thirteen years after he was taken from us. Go home tonight and put on your tight-fittin' jeans, hit the bars with too much love in your Mississippi heart and give a lady a rose. Don't just do it for yourself, do it for Conway.

2006-11-20T06:53:00.000-08:00

Sorry for the lack of posts, folks. I've been busy... okay, that's a lie. I've been lazy.

I've had a whole host of things to blog about (Gerardo, turquoise jewelry, a ridiculous formula of wins and losses that would put WVU at #3 in the BCS standings and thus allow me to throw a tantrum when the title game is an OSU/Michigan rematch) but just haven't motivated myself to actually put them up there.

Luckilly, Temorarily Sane and Victor D. seem to be going at it in the comments section, something that you've undoubtedly noticed. Since nothing I could write is quite as entertaining as a good, old-fashioned flamewar, allow me to say "your momma" to Victor D.

I'll try to drink some Red Bull or something and get some fun-filled posts up before we all settle into that Thursday evening tryptophan coma... in the meantime just enjoy the show.

2006-11-08T05:59:00.000-08:00

2006-10-31T11:29:00.000-08:00

Sorry for the lack of posts lately, I've been a bit on the lazy side. I'll try to put something interesting up tonight, but in the meantime let me share something...

David stopped by for a few hours last night. We sat in the living room, digging through old episodes of MTV's Subterranean on the Tivo and deciding which bands were to get the seal of approval and which the wag of the finger. As usual, the show was composed of about ten or twelve videos... eight or ten of which absolutely sucked. However, the new Muse video (for "Knights of Cydonia") may very well be the best video I've seen in years.

The song kicks more ass than a WWF Royal Rumble, but the video is a real treat. So, without further delay, I'll share it with you!

2006-10-27T07:38:00.000-07:00

A new Zogby poll shows that a staggering majority (72%) of active duty soldiers in Iraq are calling for a pull-out within a year. So, it's now official... supporting the troops means getting them the hell out of this war.

As Dick Cheney would say, this is a "no-brainer."

2006-10-26T12:39:00.000-07:00

2006-10-20T12:48:00.000-07:00

I've done some stupid things in my life, and I've been caught doing several of them. However, none of which have been so shameful that I've felt the need to be put on suicide watch afterward.

Then again, I've never been this guy.

2006-10-20T06:45:00.000-07:00

The NLCS is over, the Mets are going home. At least since game 7 was in New York they don't have too far to travel.

Even though the game didn't end the way I'd have liked, I have to say that it was one of the most exciting baseball games I've ever had the joy of watching. I'd comment on every pitch, but since many of you can't stand sports posts, let me just include this brilliant article from Jayson Stark (which is much better than I could have done anyway).

The season is essentially over for me. I don't really love or hate either of the teams heading to the World Series, so the winner won't make my year or break my heart (unlike the past two October Classics that left me glued to televisions throughout Lexington). I guess I'll have to wait until spring training to break out the ol' "How 'Bout Them Mets" line again... but it's ready for use.

Aw hell, I guess I'll just cheer for the Cardinals and watch the games... after all, who am I fooling here?

2006-10-18T08:25:00.000-07:00

Today I decided to be a responsible American and do a little research on the Sunni/Shiite conflict. I'd grabbed snippets from the news and various websites, but hadn't really fully explored the differences or the origin of the conflict. My first thoughts were, "uhm... okaaay," upon seeing a mountain of Islamic terminology, names and dates that made this seem like far more of a daunting task than I had originally anticipated.

However, after a few minutes I managed to get my head around the big picture, leaving me open to explore the details. Now, I'm not going to post a mammoth entry about the differences between these warring factions. If you want to know more about it, then follow this link and start to explore. I just mentioned that as a way to explain how I found something that I found equally, if not more interesting.

Apparently the whole Iraqi debacle just really isn't that big of a deal in the mind of our current administration. We can thank everyone's favorite racist, Trent Lott, for blowing the lid off of that one by complete accident... way to go Trent!

“No, none of that,” Lott told reporters after the session when asked if the Iraq war was discussed. “You’re [the media] the only ones who obsess on that. We don’t and the real people out in the real world don’t for the most part.“

2006-10-16T20:54:00.000-07:00

2006-10-16T11:40:00.000-07:00

I have a few things on my mind.

This afternoon I'd like to bring a few things to your attention. They range from funny to scary, depending on your mood and sense of humor. Unfortunately, none of them are being widely reported.

... but to be fair, the first one really shouldn't be, it's much closer to funny than scary.

Let's start with a congressional race in Pennsylvania. I should preface this by saying that I have never seen one second of "The Apprentice," so I have absolutely no idea who he is. However, I can say that he's probably the only man on the planet that makes Tucker Carlson look like one of the Hell's Angels.

The putz pictured above was apparently a member of the cast of the hit show, "The Apprentice." He lost. Somehow losing at a television show in which multiple-bankruptcy-filer Donald Trump decides your fate in the corporate world makes someone a viable candidate for political office. That's funny right, I mean surely we wouldn't elect a guy that couldn't even come close to holding his own in the private sector to run our country... now would we?

Anyway, this marketing genius has decided that the best way to make a point about the dangers of illegal immigration in this country (one that I'm sure he suffers from daily while living in Philadelphia) is to ride an elephant across the Mexican border while being followed by a mariachi band. Once again, life becomes entirely too strange to have been scripted.

Of course, the true beauty of this is that he actually brought the creatures through the border legally and hired the mariachi band in Texas. Sooooo, I guess that's really not that dramatic after all... it just results in the priceless image of a jackass riding an elephant. I have no idea how much this cost, but to me it's worth every penny.

Moving on down the chain from "idiotic" to "scary, but not really surprising," we have a report from Newsweek International that the United States (under the direction of our fearless leader) may have actually been the ones to foul-up our negotiations with Kim Jong Il and the North Korean government.

Apparently we made some promises to Lil' Kim that we didn't intend on keeping. AND, just to prove exactly how serious we were about not keeping those promises, we broke them in a matter of days. Enjoy this quote from the aforementioned article:

On Sept. 19, 2005, North Korea signed a widely heralded denuclearization agreement with the United States, China, Russia, Japan and South Korea. Pyongyang pledged to "abandon all nuclear weapons and existing nuclear programs." In return, Washington agreed that the United States and North Korea would "respect each other's sovereignty, exist peacefully together and take steps to normalize their relations."

Four days later, the U.S. Treasury Department imposed sweeping financial sanctions against North Korea designed to cut off the country's access to the international banking system, branding it a "criminal state" guilty of counterfeiting, money laundering and trafficking in weapons of mass destruction.

Now THAT sounds like normalization of relations if I've ever heard it. So, to the surprise of what I would have to assume is no one, our government is in some way directly linked to this entire damn North Korea abandons peace talks crap. So, now we'll throw more sanctions at them. These people are already living on a healthy diet of grass soup and whatever happens to crawl into their bed at night... so yeah, economic sanctions are probably the key to starting a revolution up there.

And finally, as we move from "scary, but not really surprising" to "holy crap those guys are scary" we make our way to, you guessed it, Israel!

The wacky Israelis are at it again, this time testing all kinds of interesting new "less lethal" weapons on innocent West Bank protestors. Israel would like to take this opportunity to remind you that they are a democratic nation and welcome free speech and the open exchange of ideas. Now that we've got that out of the way, let's screw with the Muslims!

It appears that "less lethal" rubber bullets just aren't enough these days, even though they often (rather often) tend to be considerably less of the "less" and more of the "lethal."

Nah, Israel has decided to step it up a notch, covering non-violent protesters with some sort of blue dye. I have no idea what this stuff is, and I'd imagine that our non-violent protesters do either, but I can assure you that when the government you're protesting starts blasting you with some sort of mystery-liquid, it's rarely going to be a good thing. I'm sure we'll hear about how this chemical causes birth defects or cancer in a few years, but hell, that's a few years from now... no time to worry about that, especially when your president may be facing rape charges.

I guess very little of this matters, as the entire planet seems to have gone crazy. I'm going to just curl up on the couch with the new Chuck Klosterman book, a glass of bourbon and some chicken wings, wake me up when it's all over.

2006-10-16T10:32:00.000-07:00

Hey, it's time for more from Brian Schweitzer!

A few months ago I asked all of you to get acquainted with Montana Governor, Brian Schweitzer, hoping that he'd eventually run for President of the United States. He seems to be in and out with Ben Chandlerian frequency, but lately he seems to be raising his profile... something that I'm rather fond of.

Now, I won't go back into the litany of reasons why I'm so fond of Governor Schweitzer as a Democratic candidate for POTUS. I'll just say that despite taking issue with some of his policies and raising my eyebrows to a few of his statements, he seems to be a solid character... and a VERY voter-friendly one at that. However, if anything was going to throw me onto the Schweitzer train completely it'd be an eco-friendly solution to our dependence on foreign oil that simultaneously creates thousands of jobs in rural America and saves the dying coal industry.

WOW!

This article is certainly worth a read. Unless Barack Obama comes roaring out of the gate sometime soon then I'm now 100% behind Schweitzer in '08... assuming he runs.

Just don't make me vote for Hilary Clinton.

2006-10-13T12:19:00.000-07:00

"Here we go again," said Paul Weyrich, a leading religious conservative with close ties to the White House, referring to the avalanche of negative factors that he predicted would keep "embarrassed Republicans" from voting, just as the Watergate scandal did in the 1970s. "If Republicans win, it will prove God is a Republican, since it will take a miracle."

2006-10-11T06:01:00.000-07:00

Once again, I find myself a slave to technology. First it was the DVD, then the Tivo, and now I'm shackled to the XM Radio.

I've owned an XM since 2002, but since I was getting very little use out of it, I turned the service off a few years ago. Recently I've found myself doing a fair amount of driving, so the radio is back on! What have I missed in my absence, you may ask? Well... apparently MC Lyte and Marley Marl are the two most popular classic hip-hop artists of all time, Vern Gosdin has written more songs that Ryan Adams on a coke binge, and you weren't allowed to release a song in the late 80's or early 90's unless you were really, really white.

Not just Caucasian, I'm talking about REALLY white... roughly the shade of Ryan Adams' nostrils during a particularly prolific songwriting binge.

Honestly, the 90's were the decade of the white man. Now, not to say that essentially every decade up until this point hasn't been essentially the decade of the white man, but the 90's was somehow worse... it was the decade of the white man that grew up in the mall. I'm ashamed of myself for some of the albums I owned in that time period. Howard Jones comes to mind, as does George Michael, but recently (this morning on the way to work) I came to an important decision. I think I may have determined the exact moment that whiteness in American music peaked... September 26, 1995, the release of the FRIENDS soundtrack.

This album is without a doubt the finest example of watered-down, soccer-mom jams ever assembled on one record. I think that Perry Como actually had more soul. Just in case you're having trouble recalling the heavy-hitters that rocked Monica's loft, let's run down the list and see who we've got. Well, there's Toad The Wet Sprocket, The Barenaked Ladies, Joni Mitchell, Hootie and the Blowfish (ironically, the whitest band on the list thus far) and of course, The Rembrandts.

If that's not blue-eyed soul, I don't know what is.

Ahhh yes, The Rembrandts. If you're having trouble remembering these guys, they're the bards that treated us to that sonic masterpiece, "I'll Be There For You." Now, I won't sit here and pretend that I don't think the show is funny. Friends is a damn funny show and I'll still find myself glued to the television if TBS kicks up one of those out-of-nowhere six day Friends marathons. However, I've gotten to the point (and this happened somewhere around October of '95) that I'd rather look at Daxon's "etchings" than hear that blasted song again.

For a second I actually believed that I'd made it through that decade without one single person I knew owning that album. Then it hit me... Kevin Hall. I almost made it out without that particular scar until I realized that SK Hall himself bought a copy of that soundtrack, and I've probably heard it in its entirety. Granted, he picked it up for the Toad and Hootie (I hope), but looking back on it does that really help things?

It should be pointed out that Kevin, despite owning history's most crackerfied record, isn't the whitest person I know... in fact, Kevin grew up on the mean streets... in fact, Kevin may be the most gangstafied person I know. Kevin was one of the founding members of N.W.A., but if I remember correctly he was thrown out... something about being "too street." What? You don't believe me? Well, let the pictures speak for themselves!

As you can CLEARLY see above, Kevin and Eazy-E remained close after the breakup of N.W.A. It was, however, a friendship that would end badly. Kevin and Eazy found themselves at odds again a few years later when a bitter paternity suit managed to pit them against each other. The argument was never settled, and the two never spoke again. In one of his last acts before his life was claimed by the AIDS epidemic, Eazy sought out revenge on Kevin by releasing this photograph:

This photo, released in 1993, did immeasurable damage to Kevin's street-cred and undoubtedly drove him into whiteness at full force. To this day he hasn't recovered... he owns a Jack Bauer for President t-shirt.

Of course, it wasn't just the early 90's that got it all wrong when it came to whiteness. Whiteness in music was certainly popular in the 1980's as well. The decade that gave us Huey Lewis, Steve Winwood solo records and Hall & Oates just can't simply be let off the hook. But, of all the dreadful crap to ever be generated in that ten-year span, I think the most bothersome trend to usher out the 80's was the use of the word "bad" to mean "good."

Once again, I'll confess that I'm as guilty as anyone else of using it, and it really wasn't that bad (used in the literal sense) when it started. However, like anything else, whitey co-opted the slang and managed to use it to describe things that, well, just really weren't all that bad (meant in the slang sense).

For example, let's take a look at the most famous instance of some white guy stealing the aforementioned phrase and screwing it all to hell:

Honestly, have you ever seen anything less "bad" than that in your life? I mean it. In the history of things that aren't "bad," this particular image is like the Shroud of Turin. I'd point out exactly what is so terribly un-bad about this whole thing, but if you need me to do that then you probably got so terribly pissed off over the Friends soundtrack issue that you haven't made it this far.

Of course, the overuse and bastardization of the word didn't die with Michael Jackson (who, may I remind you, somehow got Martin Scorsese to direct that video). We started making everything in society "bad." I'm fairly sure I can even remember my grandmother using that word on at least one occasion, and I can assure you that she wasn't bad... not even one bit... or maybe she was. I'm so damned confused by where we are with that word right now that I'm not sure who is or isn't bad. Although, I'm fairly sure of one thing, this guy isn't bad... not at all, and certainly not BADD!

I'm not sure which of those two guys I was supposed to color badd, or which one intends to sex me up, so I think I'll just play it safe and back out of this parking lot slowly. Honestly, it looks like Kenny G is trying to flee a miniaturized Clarence Clemmons dressed in a Judge Dredd uniform. Not one thing, I repeat, not ONE SINGLE THING about Color Me Badd is, in fact, badd. I'm not sure what these guys are doing now, but I'd bet that the guy that did the deep, "YEAH" sounds in the background of "All For Love" is probably the most content with himself, being the least recognizable one of the group vocally.

Hell, in that day and time we had to make everything just a little badder. We took it to terrible extremes, at one point even making our dudes bad. Come on now, not our DUDES!

I'm sorry, but these dudes just aren't going to cut it. I don't like my dudes to be bad, I like my dudes like this.

Then, of all things, to send these "Bad Dudes" out to save the President of the United States? I'll tell you what, if I'm ever the president (and kidnapped) I hope that my safety and the safety of the free world doesn't revolve around two dudes of this nature.

What started as a warm and fuzzy love song to XM Radio has now evolved into a rant on Bad Dudes... it's amazing that I can perform even the simplest of tasks with this kind of attention span. Feel free to add your own thoughts on things that were bad that shouldn't have been, other great whitey music, Kevin's hip-hop career or tips and tricks for playing Bad Dudes. That's what blogs are for, sharing utterly useless information.

2006-10-10T11:54:00.000-07:00

Robert Byrd has once again taken to the floor of the Senate to shake a 500 year-old finger of disapproval at the Bush Administration... it's about time.

As you probably know, Mr. Byrd is a personal hero of mine. Just give me a few beers and some Bob Byrd on Youtube and I'm satisfied for hours. But really, how could you NOT get behind a man that owns a vest as spectacular as this one?

Anyway, on with the speech. It's a knockout, but his always seem to be. Stay tuned after the lecture to see how you can make a difference in two days!

Senator Robert C. Byrd

US Senate Floor Remarks
September 13, 2006

Mr. President,

September 11 has come and gone, and as we remember those lost on that fateful day, and contemplate events since the horrific attack, one truth stands out.

The war in Iraq has backfired, producing more recruits for terrorism, and deep divisions within our own country. It is a war we should never have begun. The detour from our attack on Bin Laden and his minions, hiding in the cracks and crevices of the rough terrain of Afghanistan, to the unwise and unprovoked attack on Iraq has been a disastrous one. Mr. Bush’s war has damaged the country because he drove our blessed land into an unnecessary conflict, utterly misreading the consequences, with the result now being a daily display of America’s vulnerabilities to those who wish us ill. The United States is a weaker power now, especially in the Middle East, but also in the court of world opinion. Where is the America of restraint, of peace and of inspiration to millions? Where is the America respected not only for her military might, but also for her powerful ideas and her reasonable diplomacy?

Our country may have deviated occasionally from its positive global image in the past, but Abu Ghraib, the body snatching for torture, euphemistically called rendition, Presidential directives which unilaterally alter conditions of the Geneva Convention -- these are not the stuff of mere slight deviations from the America of peacefulness, fairness, and goodwill. These are major policy and attitudinal changes of Tsunami-sized proportions. Our friends shake their heads in disbelief. Our enemies nod wisely and claim they knew all the while. I cannot remember a time in our history when our elected leaders have failed the people so completely, and yet, so far, are not held accountable for costly misjudgments and outright deceptions.

Take our Secretary of Defense, Donald Rumsfeld, for example. He misread the Iraqi situation entirely. He adamantly dismisses suggestions for a larger force in Iraq. He failed to object when the White House’s Coalition Provisional Authority disbanded the Iraqi army, only to have them go underground and provide fodder for the insurgency. He insisted that the Iraqi people would view our soldiers as liberators not occupiers, and even failed to properly anticipate the equipment needs of our men and women in harm’s way.

Secretary Rumsfeld continues to insist that we are not facing a civil war in Iraq despite convincing evidence to the contrary, and yet he sits comfortably in his office as the echo of his errors in judgment and strategy continues to cost thousands of lives.

Then there is President Bush and Vice President Dick Cheney. These men continue to try to make the American public swallow whole the line that the war in Iraq is the front line of a global war on terror, which must be continued at all costs. Stay the course, they say, despite three years of discouragingly little progress in Iraq. The body count is approaching 2,700 for our side, tens of thousands for the beleaguered Iraqi people, and billions of American tax dollars, of which an embarrassingly large chunk has been wasted by irresponsible contractors, and government officials who lack the proper respect for the public purse. Many of our allies have left the field, recognizing the truth that the Administration fails to see: namely, we had the weapons to win the war, but not the wisdom to secure the peace.

Yet, too many in the public are complacent about the numerous violations of their trust and the continuing loss of life in Iraq. Some of our citizens have apparently been convinced that it is unpatriotic to criticize one’s country when that country is engaged in an armed conflict. In fact, in our land today, there is a troubling tolerance for government overreaching on fronts at home as well as abroad. This Administration has repeatedly used fear and flag-waving to blunt the traditional American insistence on the Bill of Rights, personal freedom of thought and action, privacy, and one’s right to speak and write as one pleases. Such a cynical exercise on the part of high officials of our government is unconscionable. It is shameful behavior for which there is no excuse.

The Congress, under the control of the President’s party has been submissive, a lap dog wagging its tail in appreciation of White House secrecy and deception. Even the vast majority of the opposition party has been too quiet for too long -- unable to find its voice, stunted by the demand to “support the troops.” We forget, too often, that there is a very real difference between support for the troops and support for an unnecessary war. The men and women of our military did not ask to go to those faraway places, but they were willing. They answered their country’s call. We have an obligation to support them, but we do not need to follow blindly the unthinking policies that keep them mired in the middle of a civil war.

The American public is our last best hope now. Our people must demand more from their representatives in the Congress and from their leaders in the White House. Donald Rumsfeld should be replaced by the President because he has made so many grievous errors in judgement on Iraq and because a new voice at the helm of the Department of Defense could be a breath of fresh air for our policies in Iraq. His replacement would be good for our country. Yet even a sense of the Senate vote of “no confidence” in Mr. Rumsfeld’s leadership has been blocked by the President’s party in the Senate. Personal accountability has been long absent from this Administration, and this Senator would like to see it return.

One would hope that men and women who rise to positions of awesome responsibility would have the grace, dignity, and honor to know in their own hearts when a well-timed resignation would advance patriotic goals. But, too often, the selfish love of power or some misguided show of toughness wins the days to the detriment of our country’s fortunes. Donald Rumsfeld ought to step down or his President ought to ask him to. There is too much at stake for any other course. Personally, I believe the President is derelict in his duties when he does not ask for Mr. Rumsfeld’s latchkey. The bungling and loss of life attendant to this tragic three-year long debacle in Iraq have hurt this country, its public image, and its ability to achieve numerous other national and international goals. That kind of dangerous ineptitude cannot be excused.

But like so many things when it comes to Iraq and the Middle East in general, the United States of America is stuck in neutral, with the only thing showing vigorous movement the ever spiraling price of gasoline. We have destabilized the Middle East, and handed the mullahs a way to affect the daily lives and livelihood of every American, and the efficacy of our military might -- the oil supply lines upon which our economy and our military depend.

Now that oil supply is a favorite target for terrorists who have learned the joys of bombing pipelines, and listening to America bite its nails about the high cost of gasoline, while it laments its lack of foresight in developing alternative fuels.

Now, we have passed yet another anniversary of the bloody attacks which precipitated the disastrous situation in which our country finds itself today. Yet, while we mourn, there are hard truths to confront.

Our attention has been shifted, by design and deception, too quickly from the war in Afghanistan -- a war that we needed to fight and win. Now the Taliban is on the rise in that country. Al Qaeda continues to find sanctuary in the mountains. Violence is on the rise, and peace and stability are in jeopardy.

North Korea, probably reacting to our doctrine of preemption and our newfound bellicosity, has increased its nuclear capability. Iran has been emboldened by our inability to stop the violence in Iraq, and by the lukewarm support we have garnered from traditional allies. Even the people of Turkey, one of the United States’ staunchest allies with Turkey a member of NATO, and a model of secular Muslim democracy, have turned against us. A survey conducted by the German Marshall Fund of the United States indicates that Iran has become one of the most popular countries in Turkey, and that there is a growing willingness to identify with radical Islam. A display of ineptitude and spectacular miscalculation in Iraq has cost us dearly. Disenchantment at home with the dismal results in Iraq will have reverberations for years, much like the failure in Vietnam did in the 1960's.

President Bush insists that his war must go on. He defends warrantless wiretapping of our own citizens as essential to his cause, despite a court decision that the President has no such authority under our Constitution. He defends torture and rendition, and says that they have produced valuable evidence which has subverted several terror attacks on our country. But, his credibility is so damaged that it is difficult to believe him. He demands the authority to hold terror suspects indefinitely, and then to try them using military tribunals which deny basic rights, also in defiance of a Supreme Court ruling. He seems convinced that he can “win” a global war on terror despite the demonstrated failure of his policies of unilateralism, militarism, overheated rhetoric, and a pathological dislike of diplomacy. It is up to the Congress to change course and to stop the heinous raiding of constitutionally protected liberties by a White House which does not fully appreciate the true meaning of the word freedom. I hope that we may find the courage.

---------------Back to Cory---------------

Inspired?
Mad?
Sleepy?

Take any and all of those emotions and channel them into something positive. It's the least that you can do! Follow this link to an organization that drafts letters to send to Congress demanding impeachment. Really folks, the letters are ready to go, just sign your name... it CAN'T GET ANY EASIER THAN THAT!!

2006-10-09T08:31:00.000-07:00

North Korea is scary!

Look, I know it's hard to stop thinking about Congressman Foley and all the hot young teens parading around Washington in speedos... but we need to take a break.

While we all sat glued to our televisions, foaming at the mouth with anticipation for more lurid details involving hot Congressman-on-Page action, North Korea started acting a little jumpy. Now, I tend to believe that Mr. Kim Jong-Il isn't really very interested in blowing us up. His passion in life is film, and at the end of the day, the best films in the world come from America... the majority of which come from California.

Think of it this way, if you lived and breathed for corn, if corn was so important to you that you just couldn't imagine having a meal without an ear, would you nuke Nebraska? Probably not.

However, we should still pay attention to this wacko. He may look like some sort of creepy troll in a tracksuit, but he does still have the bomb. And even though the terrorists are hiding under our beds and stuffing every cookie jar in America with dirty bombs, it still wouldn't kill us to give Lil' Kim a glance from time to time. He's not exactly the most stable person around and he's very capable of making life VERY uncomfortable for those reading this in the Pacific Time Zone.

To explain what I mean, let me throw a few quotes out from a statement released by a spokesman for the DPRK organization:

"Unlike all the previous wars Korea fought, a next war will be better called the American War or the DPRK-US War because the main theater will be the continental US, with major cities transformed into towering infernos."

"The Kim administration seeks to commit nuclear weapons to actual use against the US in case of war, never to use them as a tool of negotiations. "

"A nuclear test by North Korea will go a long way toward emboldening anti-American states around the world to acquire nuclear weapons. There is a long line of candidate states. "

Of course, if that's not bothersome enough, take a look at some of the art covering buildings in Pyongyang...

Yup... pretty scary.

So, let's make it a point, all of us together, to pay a little more attention to North Korea. I know Iraq is a complete freaking disaster, the mid-term elections are upon us and our Congressmen just can't seem to keep it in their pants... but none of that's really going to amount to much when the ocean waves are breaking on the Nevada shoreline.

Just food for thought... take it or leave it.

2006-10-05T08:48:00.000-07:00

"Those are some dank nugs!!!"

I guess I was pretty uncool in the 90's, considering I had to google the phrase "dank nugs" to find out what the hell they were talking about.

<--- This guy came up in a google image search for "dank nugs," apparently he's enjoying some.

2006-10-04T05:26:00.000-07:00

Last night I was watching the O'Reilly Factor...

Yes, I know, I'm a masochist.

Anyway, I decided to tune in to Mr. O'Reilly's show upon hearing that he was calling for the resignation of House Speaker Dennis Hastert in the wake of the child exploitation charges rising up against Florida Congressman Mark Foley. Although Papa Bill proudly claims his independent status, most people with one active brain cell will notice that he may at times slant a little more to the right-wing than the left-wing, so hearing him call for the head of such a prominent conservative was at the least very interesting.

While watching Mr. O'Reilly's broadcast I noticed something... shall we say, a bit odd. Here's a screenshot from that very "news"cast, let's see if you can spot the error... an little brain teaser to start your morning.

See anything unusual there? Now, for a second, let's pretend that you didn't catch it (and perhaps some of you haven't). If that's an innocent mistake, I'll accept it and move along. Those things can happen and we certainly can't rely on a NEWS network to get ALL of the FACTS correct, now can we.

So, figuring that this was simply human error and not part of some sneaky, semi-subliminal effort to confuse the hell out of the voting public (it was only up for a few seconds), I went on my merry way. Unfortunately, this morning I came to learn that Fox News now seems to be making a practice of this "mistake," tossing it up there on yet another occasion. Once again, the image is quick, but isn't all great subliminal advertising?

In case you haven't determined what I'm talking about on here, Mark Foley is a REPUBLICAN! Fox News has decided, however, that Republicans just aren't capable of this type of thing... so surely he must have been a Democrat, right? These are, of course, the same people that are loudly screaming at Bill Clinton for trying to "rewrite history..." which I find to be far more palatable than Fox's attempts to rewrite the present.

Then, just when you thought that the madness surely wouldn't go any deeper, that this is as far as they'd go, take a look at this screenshot from a recent Osama Bin Laden video:

Have they no decency? The answer is, of course, no.

It's a scary time in America. The founding documents of our society are being rewritten, schools seem to be shot up every day, and the propaganda machines are running at such a pace that the former Soviet Union would have to sit back and watch with quiet awe. Of course the Osama picture is a joke, but the first two aren't. It seems completely absurd to consider someone confusing Bin Laden with Byrd or Rockefeller, but shouldn't it be equally absurd to confuse a Republican, especially one that is now so closely linked to high-ranking Republican leadership, with a Democrat?

At best it's shockingly sloppy journalism. However, at worst it's something far more sinister. I'll let you, and your level of cynicism decide that one.

"If the Party could thrust its hand into the past and say this or that even, it never happened—that, surely, was more terrifying than mere torture and death."

2006-09-29T10:59:00.000-07:00

I really love these things, so I figured I'd use another one today as it relates to... well, you'll just have to see this one to believe it.

From time to time people will criticize me for taking shots at the super-wealthy. It's no secret that my economic policy beliefs fall closer to the side of socialism than that of capitalism, something that is often considered a dirty-word in the United States. However, it's not just the money that regularly irritates me about the ruling class in society, it's the fact that concentrating that kind of power in the hands of some of these people is... well... just plain crazy.

Let's face it, every social and economic class has it's crazy people. I'm certainly not suggesting that wackos like this guy exist only in the wealthy, top-tier of society. I'm just pointing out that when people like this can literally "buy and sell your ass," we're all in trouble.

Now that I've said all of that, read this! Talk about interesting... the article is long as hell but a real page-turner. And if any of you are interested in doing a little research into the legalities of kin-folk marryin' in your own backyard, let me provide this handly little chart!

Take note of this chart, by the way. The next time you hear someone make a joke about Kentuckians (or West Virginians) marrying cousins, be sure to point out that while it isn't legal to do so in our state, it is perfectly legal in California and New York.

2006-09-27T09:43:00.000-07:00

I know that Dallas sucks, but isn't this taking things a bit too far?

Besides, we all know that he's just trying to get out of playing Philly.

2006-09-25T20:00:00.000-07:00

For years now a great debate has raged. A debate that has spanned months, decades and even millennia... and that's just among the people that I know. A debate that, if ever truly brought to some sense of finality may actually rupture the entire sense of space and time that we take for granted...

I am of course talking about who is and who isn't grizzled.

You may scoff at this idea, but keep in mind the ramifications of designating someone as grizzled, while ruling out another's grizzledness. Accurately defining what it means to be grizzled can shape entire societies, define masculinity and femininity and bring entire cultures to their knees. There are a select few of us that have made the study of grizzledness in modern society a way of life, a passion if you will. A passion that rages like an unquenchable thirst, often overtaking conversation and even occasionally pitting brother against brother.

I come to you tonight not to bring closure to the issue, as my experience in this field of study has proven that neither my generation, nor my children's generation will ever settle this question. I come to you tonight to pose a question about one man... one man and his grizzledness.

Is Chris Ledoux grizzled?

At first this may seem like an open-and-shut case. At this point you've probably formed an opinion as to whether or not you feel that Mr. Ledoux deserves the title of "grizzled" or whether he should be delegated to one of the lesser categories (i.e. manly, tough, badass or even roughneck). However, there are points to be made that may change your mind either way.

First of all, it should be pointed out that Chris was born in Mississippi and raised in Texas. Now, my personal opinions on those states aside, that's an excellent pedigree of grizzledness. At the age of 18 he moved to Wyoming and joined the rodeo... once again, Wyoming isn't high on my list of "best places on Earth," but keep in mind that most grizzled places aren't.

While on the rodeo circuit he became the National Bareback Bronc Riding Champion. I don't know a damn thing about rodeo, but even with my limited education I can assume that "bareback bronc riding" means what I think it does, and "champion" probably means that he was better than everyone else at doing so. So, at this point it becomes rather tough to argue against Chris' grizzled status. Let's face it, he could have gone home every night, pulled on some sexy stockings and pranced around the living room singing showtunes and he's still more grizzled that I am... or pretty much anyone I know.

He then proceeded to embody the idea of the American Cowboy by writing and singing his own songs about the life of bronc ridin' and general cowboyin'. He self-produced twenty-two albums before finally making his major label debut in 1991 on Capitol Records. I tend to give poor, self-promoted musicians an extra grizzled point, even though that often brings their grizzled score to ONE. However, making 22 albums on your own tends to put you in a league of your own.

... besides, the guy looks like this

Plus five grizzled points for looking like the illegitimate child of Ted Nugent and The Marlboro Man.

So, you may now be thinking, "Cory, with all of these details, how could he possibly not make the cut?" Well, had he cut things off right then and there he most certainly would have been on the fast-track to grizzled status. But fame seemed to steal away a bit of the western mystique that Chris had managed to build over so many years.

First of all, we should point out that his big break came from Garth Brooks. I'm not here to cast stones at Mr. Brooks or his music, but I'm quite certain that there's no serious student of grizzled studies that would consider Garth to be grizzled... even for a second... and even for a laugh. In case you're currently thinking of making some hackneyed argument as to how Garth Brooks may actually be grizzled, let me remind you of Chris Gaines. End of discussion.

But, Garth aside, there's the fact that Ledoux began to actually adapt to mainstream country music after attaining a bit of success. He started wearing the horrendous fashions of early 90's country music, he brought the pyro out on stage, he started putting together poppy, radio friendly songs and perhaps worst of all, he started prancing around on stage with Garth Brooks.

For every "This Cowboy's Hat" there were two "Whatcha Gonna Do With A Cowboy" type songs. If you're not familiar with those particular jams, just imagine Bob Dylan recording a Britney Spears song, but without a trace of irony. Now, this isn't to compare Ledoux to Bob Dylan, hell... I don't even particularly like Chris Ledoux, but once again pleading ignorance I can only assume that he's the Bob Dylan of authentic cowboy music.

He turned into a caricature of himself. A homogenized, media-friendly cowboy without a trace of old west rebellion. For those of us that didn't grow up listening to old-school Chris Ledoux, we're just left to wonder what the hell the fuss was all about. And all of the cowboy legacy aside, would any truly grizzled man ever pose for pictures with decidedly UN-GRIZZLED people like this...

Or God forbid, THIS...

So, I close this question with a question. Can a man's past, no matter how grizzled, be completely erased by the actions of the last years of his life? Chris Ledoux died at the age of 56 of complications relating to a long battle with cancer (immediate grizzled points), leaving behind a very mixed legacy. When you consider the hierarchy of men that are truly and undoubtedly grizzled, men like David Allan Coe, George Washington AND Thomas Jefferson, George Patton and of course Roy Johnson, can a man that spent the latter part of his life prancing around in front of pyrotechnics and crooning with Garth Brooks make the cut?

It's a tougher call than you think, and one that could essentially have a profound effect on the future of grizzledness as we know it. Weigh your answers carefully.

2006-09-25T08:33:00.000-07:00

Sorry for leaving you guys high and dry without witty, insightful posts for the last few days. I've been busy, then on top of that I've had the worst cold in history. Literally, I'm pretty sure that Dustin Hoffman and Cuba Gooding Jr. were flying over my apartment with a weapon of mass destruction at one point. Thank God the abort order was issued.

Anyway, I'll try to get some interesting stuff up for you in the next couple of days. I swear.