Good article

A '75 Flashback for Digital Music
Wall Street Journal
February 28, 2005

The digital-music revolution proceeds apace, with all its associated
wonders. But oddly, in one sense the music of 2005 feels like 1975.

Back before the original incarnation of MTV -- an age in which the Walkman
was gaped at like the black monolith in 2001: A Space Odyssey -- one of the
great mysterious music moments was finding out what that band with the new
song stuck in your head or climbing the pop charts looked like. If you were
a kid, this revelation often came through a peek at an older brother or
sister's Rolling Stone or People, staying up late to see Saturday Night Live
or Don Kirshner's Rock Concert, or going to the mall and staring up at the
records in the new-release racks.

However you got to this point, the reaction was usually the same: "That's
what Fleetwood Mac look like? No way!" Jace can't ever remember a band
looking like he'd thought they would, and the disparity between reality and
what he'd imagined was often startling, to say the least.

After MTV became a phenomenon in the early 1980s, this "no way" moment
basically ceased to exist for popular acts: For more than a decade, to hear
Madonna, Def Leppard, Duran Duran and other artists of that time was to see
them, too -- and many a music fan had the odd experience of realizing some
new hit songs just weren't as compelling on the radio or on the stereo,
which stripped them of their accompanying videos.

What changed? The biggest thing was that MTV and VH1 cut back dramatically
on the number of videos they played, finding they got better ratings and
more attention for game shows like "Singled Out" and reality numbers like
"Real World" and "Newlyweds." Today, there are video channels such as the
Fuse and the just-relaunched MTV2 trying to fill the music-television niche
that MTV once owned. But for whatever reason, none of them has achieved the
reach or importance that MTV had -- and that's meant that for many, popular
musicians are once again heard rather than seen.

Oddly, the other factor in reducing musicians' visual presence has been the
Internet itself -- and it's reduced it in ways that 1975's music fans would
find startling, despite the fact that they rarely if ever saw a video.

1975 was the age of the LP, which meant umpteen hours of poring over album
art, lyrics, liner notes and whatever else came with a favorite record -- a
process generally begun even before LP hit turntable, as you tried to puzzle
out which songs would be good based on lyrics and titles alone. (Supergeeks
of a certain age will even remember that you could get some idea of a song's
sound by looking at how dense the grooves within the track were. A long,
basically blank stretch within a track meant trouble, particularly if it was
part of a bloated rock opera with passages marked in Roman numerals. We mean
you, Rush.)

One thing that drives CD haters particularly insane is the way standard CD
packaging crunched artwork and accompanying material down to a much-smaller
footprint. But at least that material still existed -- with digital
downloads, the most you typically get is a small image of the album cover
displayed when your jukebox software plays that album's songs. With digital
downloads, album art is now barely bigger than a postage stamp, and liner
notes and lyrics are basically gone.

Yes, some artists and labels have tried to present that material in
different ways -- download U2's "How to Dismantle an Atom Bomb," for
instance, and you'll get the contents of the CD booklet as a PDF. But as
with many efforts to read for pleasure in the digital age, sitting in an
office chair scrolling and magnifying PDFs is a far cry from sprawling on
the rec-room couch with an album jacket. (This is even worse for jazz buffs:
Jazz albums actually have liner notes with something to say.)

But wait, you say -- virtually every band with a record deal now has its own
Web site. Try that in 1975!

True -- today anybody with a Web browser can dive into a new band's bio,
discography and photos with a few mouse clicks, and more and more bands
offer sample MP3s and other goodies. But the difference is that's material
you have to go out and get -- it doesn't come to you the way MTV did. Does
that matter? It may: For many people, music is something they absorb while
doing something else, rather than something they actively want to interact
with.

It'll be years until we know what, if anything, this loss of visuals will
mean for bands trying to forge their own identities in an increasingly
fragmented, winner-take-all music world. In the meantime, as listeners we're
probably even worse at deciphering lyrics than we used to be. And those of
us of a certain age may find ourselves in a time warp, saying things we
thought we'd said for the last time back in the Reagan administration:
"That's what the Killers look like? No way!"

http://online.wsj.com/articles/real_time

For Whom The Shmuck Tolls

Today's Carlin calendar entry:
"As you swim the river of life, do the breast stroke. It helps to clear the turds from your path."

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Some good cartoons about the NHL season being cancelled.

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Korn's guitarist finds God, leaves band.
Good for him, and fuck the "fans" who give him shit for letting go of anger in his life. You know the ones...they also hate Hetfield for saving his own life.

I know what you might be thinking but, see, this Blog is how I AM letting go of anger.

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Michael was trying to figure out what to wear to court when this was taken:

You Know You're An Old Detroiter If

...You took a "moonlight cruise" to Bob-Lo with Captain Bob-Lo
or went to Edgewater Amusement Park.

.....You shopped at Hughes and Hatcher, B Siegel, Peck and Peck,
Himelhoch's, Robert Hall, Crowley's, Shoppers Fair, EJ Korvettes or
Federals.

.....You rode the elevator at J. L. Hudson's, which was "run" by an elevator operator.

.....You remember a Winkleman's and Sanders store in your neighborhood.

.....You remember the "Big Snow", Buffalo Bob, Howdy Doody, Clarabelle,
Phineas T.Bluster, Princess Summer-Fall-Winter-Spring.

.....You remember Twin Pines Dairy delivered milk and juice to the chute on
the side of your house and Milky the Clown performed magic with the magic
words "Twin Pines."

.....You remember the Good Humor man in a white uniform, ringing the bells
as he drove down your street.

.....You remember Olympia Stadium.

.....You remember when Vernors was made on Woodward Ave., and a bearded
troll was on the bottle.

.....Your Mom got groceries at Great Scott, Food Fair, Wrigley's or Chatham.

.....Your Mom saved Holden Red Stamps, S&H Green stamps, or Gold Bell Gift
stamps, and you licked them into those little books.

.....Kresge's and Woolworth's were "Dime Stores."

.....You had an uncle in the furniture business (Joshua Door).

.....You know who Bill Kennedy is. (Channel 50's "1 o'clock Movie")

.....You saw the Detroit Lions play football in Tiger Stadium.

.....You remember Black Bart and the Faygo song. Or how about "Which way did
he go? He went for Faygo, old fashion root beer."

.....You watched Rita Bell's! prize movies in the morning.

.....You remember Jack LeGoff and Van Patrick.

.....You remember Milky the Clown,
Soupy Sales, Johnny Ginger, Poopdeck Paul, Captain Jolly, Sagebrush Shorty
and maybe even Sergeant Satko Salute.

.....You visited the Wonder Bread Bakery and got to take home a mini loaf of
bread.

....! .Your address had a two-digit "zone" before there were zip codes.
Detroit 19, Michigan.

.....You remember "Get on the right track at 9 mile and Mack, to get the
best deal in town. Roy O'Brien...it's the best deal in town."

.....You remember a laundry chute, milk chute and a coal chute.

.....You remember going to Detroit Edison with your Mom to exchange burned
out light bulbs for new ones.

Send in the Drones

Radio frequency i.d. badges to track students in school


God forbid the teachers shut the door and take attendance. I guess they're too busy to take attendance and look the kids in the eye. Maybe that's the idea? Less personal contact and personal accountability accountability (let the PDA track it) inhibits teachers getting to know who they're students are, becoming attracted to them, then sleeping with them. Think I'm stretching? They wanna cancel SpongeBob and Teletubbies because they're "too gay". And when one drunk idiot rides the JetSki up the lakefront lawn killing a picnic'ing 6 year-old, the Safety Police want to no one to ride jet ski's anymore, ever.

Thanks World

We genetically mutate tomatoes to repel insects naturally, and tolerate striving Super Parents wanting to pick a designer baby fetus, but we never hear about scientists wanting to genetically engineer the ASSHOLE GENE out of the world's DNA, do we?

Thieves Steal Consumer Info Database

Makes me remember asking my very sharp and hip Aunt Nancy, a retired Vice President of a Toledo Bank thru the 70s,80s,90s about why she doesn't do email and the like. Her answer was "because I read '1984' darling. Just you watch."
Funny...on 'Law & Order: Criminal Intent" Sunday night, one of the detective characters commented that he "had read the Patriot Act in its original form..."1984".

Well shit...if I don't go for the '3', I'll let everybody down, now won't I...


Eh?? Get it?? 1984...? Eh??

Meh!...

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Colin Farrel and Jamie Foxx are the leads in the Miami Vice movie remake.

This will probably be kickass. Rather than be a funny Ben Stiller-ish sendoff, Michael Mann, who originally wrote and directed Vice in the 80s, then directed 'Thief', 'Heat', and 'Collateral', is writing and directing this movie. So the Slick and Grit will be On I must say. This will be a great flick to get the Bro's out together for a movie night and beers afterwards. Like when ya rally up for a new Bond flick.

And thus rightly so the question is: how updated, or old-school'd, or completely forgotten will the opening credit sequence be in relation to the classic 80s show?

Vica-WIN!

Sorry such lame blogging lately. Been prepping for the hernia operation I had today. A return visit to the same spot I had one operated on in 1990. It sucked. The last time hurt so bad, because somehow the procedure left me feeling like someone put a C-clamp on one of my boys. Like Bigfoot, Thor, and the gunnery sargent from Full Metal Jacket spent 3 hours each kicking me in the groin.


(Btw, those 3 will be singing the TV postcard Christmas Carol on SNL next season. Just you watch.)


This time I'm just sore as hell, walking hunched over like an old man. Very slowly and with pain. Like Han after Vader sizzle-tortured him in Cloud City and Leia had to help him get to the wallslab bunk. Vicodin is my new friend, and what a sweet, cozy warm, silly friend he is. When the high school drama teacher asks people to imagine they’re a rug, or a plant as an acting exercise...Vicodin allows me to win an Oscar for ‘Best ‘Coziest Flannel-Douvais’d Down Comforter.”

I wanna punch the surgeon who did my last hernia. I have NONE of the ‘c-clamp on a nut’ pain I did last time. Just the triple jalapeno Dorito-ian Xtreme raw soreness where the work was done. Makes me wonder what the hell that last guy did to give me quadruple the pain last time. I guess he just sucked.

There was two pains – the hernia pain, and the ‘pinched nut in a vice’ feeling. #2 is gone, the boys feel totally fine. Just feels like a wolverine bit a grapefruit-sized chunk out of me where your front hip bone protrudes.

So I'm spending the weekend with some new CD's and a Level 42 concert video I ordered. And the best surprise of all was that the lead singer/bassist Mark King actually signed my DVD! Like many formerly huge 80s bands, a few original members kept it going on a smaller scale - so the 'Band Machine' is more Mom&Pop. The lead member probably mails out the merch people order himself. Anyway, it was cool. And the dvd is fantastic.

The other CD I got was from Joy as a Valentine present. An out-of-print album that Curt Smith of Tears For Fears recorded in 1991 after leaving TFF. Its major league early 90s Euro-pop, quite the adult contemporary. Curt to this day bemoans he even made it, says he made it to end a contract with MCA. I don't care. It's sweet to me.

Anyway, thanks for letting me share. Blogging during recuperation time feels fun and relaxing. So let's blog:

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A little BeLosophy rant from the week:
This past week John Williams and George Lucas were scoring the final Star Wars film, Episode 3, and Wednesday they did alot of the big 12-minute Obi-Wan and Anakin duel scene.

Kinda cool to know that the movie is being scene by a big room of people
this week. Though I'm sure lots of the images are animatics still of
sequences.

I really hope Williams blew his nut on this score. (Nice Dave, more nut talk). Like when StarWars Mike and I watched the special edition Star Trek; the music of the prequels seems so undermixed and not as dominant as the classic trilogy and the Star Trek's of the 70s. If they did Jedi again now, Luke kicking Darth's ass after the sister comment would have been more lightsabre sizz;le, surround sound room sound of the generator, footsteps, the battle outside...and buried in it would have been that demonic descending choral music Williams wrote. I mean it was just damn obvious Luke was falling into the dark and going apeshit with rage with that music.

I watch the prequels with such an open mind and ear and sometimes I just
feel these holes where someone needed to crank the volume on the music. Or
action scenes where more THX surround effects seem crammed in and the music
is barely heard galloping along. I don't need to hear every shnukkle vendor
in the Pod Arena stands selling Corellian CornNuts, and people cheering, I want that
music jammin. I need some help rooting for the CGCartoons George.

Maybe its fine and I'm getting old. But when I watch Geonosis, the music
isn't penetrating me nearly as much as Hoth or Endor. It was
Music-Image-Sound effects. Now it seems Image-Sound effects-Music.

I think if that original recipe was used, the prequels would have "felt"
better to many who didn't like it. Cuz music is always there, you only
hear it a few times when someone's theme was supposed to be heard. The
rest of the time its background music. The classics the music was always
there. And it buffered some of the more sappy moments or lackluster
transitions. The score told you what you needed to feel when a landspeeder
sped along, or people walked down hallways. Kept you locked in the feel of
the universe. I don't get all the time with the prequels. The music for
the speeder chase on Coruscant is classic Williams and I was straining to hear
it on the film. But when I heard the soundtrack, I never knew there was a
tribal drum solo going on in there. Zam and Anakin's engine sounds were
more prevalent. There's Zappa-ian guitar solos in that scene! I swear, weird stuff.

Meh...

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Speaking of Star Wars, this SW novel is great. 'Shatterpoint'. Think Mace Windu starring in 'Apocalypse Now.' Heavier than the usual SW fare. Definitely a hard PG-13.

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Read on if you're one of those people who appreciates or digs on the thought of antiques, or things like inaminate objects that have been around a long time. Like furniture a family had for 150 years and the eras its existed through. Old trees that have been on your block for 80 years. Or Coney Island and all the stories and experiences, memories people had at that place over such a long time. The times these items have seen.

I read an article mentioning one of those Plane Graveyards in the Mojave desert. Where de-commisioned airline planes get stored when they're retired, 747's and the like. Just sitting out there to be used to parts, or to blow up in a movie.

Got me thinking how much thought and emotion would be burned in the upholstery of those planes. How many stories would be contained in the cabins. How many thousands of people over so many years sat in those planes, and thought long and hard about so many things. 200 people, 200 different stories x however many flights x the years the plane was in commission. How much mental energy imbued into those windows, from people looking out them thinking on who they're about see again. Or who they just left, on good or bad terms. Or the life they just left to start anew. Or how much Life Inventory they engaged in having that isolated, private, intense period to be alone with nothing but their thoughts. And being in a plane, you can't pull over. Can't take a detour. Can't move out. Can't stop at a gas station to break for a minute. Plus there's the chance of a crash in the back of your mind. Its a flying 'meditation-with-your-eyes-open' chamber. Its's different than a bus, there's stuff to look at from a bus or train, you can tell where you are. On a plane, you're up there. Just you and air.

People flying to meet someone they love, go home, leave home, leaving a lover, on their way to a funeral, from a funeral, a new job, a dream vacation 10 years in the making, goin to kill someone, comeing from having killed someone. The fear of flying, the anxiety, the glee of someone's first flight. If people can talk about someone 'lighting up a room'...(you don't have to see them come in but you can tell they showed up because the energy of the room changes.) THAT kind of energy is what I'm talkin' about. That energy emitting out the pores from all those plane passengers over the years.

I dunno know. If there was such thing as a 'Plane Whisperer', akin to one of those TV detective 'mediums' that can feel the crime psychic-ley, where it overwhelms them bordering on brain damage, all that power... make one of those mediums press their ear against a decommissioned plane's fuselage to tap into the history. It'd become a scene out of Scanners.


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'Meh!...whadda you know??!! Why don't you go name a monkey..."

Well, okay.

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Go buy and watch and love Firefly.
FOX deserves a molotov cocktail thru the programmer's doors for screwing up that one.

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New band name: Twinkie Barter Coalition.

Monday

From my George Carlin at-a-glance desk calendar.
The weekend page:

"Civilization began its downhill path the day some guy first uttered the words "A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do."

Monday's page:

"I think many years an advanced civilization intervened with us gentically and gave us just enough intelligence to develop dangerous technology but not enough to use it wisely. Then they sat back to watch the fun. Kind of like a human zoo. And you know something? They're definitely getting their money's worth.

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Is it me, or is that as we humans hit senior citizen age, our greeting message on our asnwering machine becomes longer because we talk s l o w e r for some reason. My Dad's work answering machine sounds like Graham Bell's first recording; " Hi...this_is_Bruce. I_can't_come_to_the_phone_right now," etc.....

Either he's doing his best Kirk impression, or most of his customers are new to English and he slows down so they can keep up in translating in their heads.

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Fripp says...
"The way we describe our world shows how we think of our world. How we think of our world governs how we interpret our world. How we interpret our world directs how we participate in the world. How we participate in the world shapes the world.

Chiming In with Stuff

Had to get this up there. Some deliciously twisted comedy here. Take 10 minutes and have a good laugh.

It's gonna get warmer. Right????

Which of these is an Italian submarine and which one's the Batmobile?



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In 7th grade, watching Voltron after-school on Channel 50 in Detroit, I discovered a wonderful scientific thing:
If you eat Chef Boy-R-Dee ravioli and drink orange juice, your burps smell exactly like hot dog burps.

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Jerry, I think he's going for the two..

Augmentin, a super antibiotic, makes your pee smell like the pumpkin guts from carving at Halloween.

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Buddy jan sent this story from his current adventures in UCLA's MBA program:
I was told this story by a career counselor, Matthew, who works with us at
school.
He was recruiting people for investment banking jobs in Hong Kong, and
part of the interview process for i-banking is a "pressure interview"
where they try to push your buttons to see how you deal with tough
negotiators.

They look through your resume for things you may be defensive about, and
ask you pointed questions about them.

So this interview happened to be the lead pilot on the bombing run to kill
Qadaffi back in the 1980s. He'd gotten out of the military and was
looking for a job in investment banking.

So they sit down across the table, Matthew pulls out the guy's resume, and
the first question he asks is...

"So you're flying over Libya in the dead of night in a multimillion-dollar
aircraft, loaded with bombs, on a top-secret mission to kill Qadaffi. And
you MISSED. Why should I hire you?"

He said the guy told him to f--- off. He gave the guy the job.

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Zac and Penny got Joy and I hooked on Firefly, a great scifi series from the Buffy producers. It came and went too quickly due to FOX handling it as badly as their reality show contestants treat the family name back home. Rent it and dig it. It's very easy.

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Literal odds on this guy being the next Bond.

The more things change, the more men stay boys

Merry Monday.
This in from my oldest friend, 'Star Wars Mike', known to many of my friends by name and having never met him. He has a jawdropping collection of old and new sci-fi toy merchandise. That's his hobby, collecting that stuff. Dad was a serious card collector back in the day, Mom collected Barbie's, it's in his DNA. SWMike has original Planet of the Apes sets unwrapped, original Star Trek, 80s Buck Rogers, Raiders of the Lost Ark (yes, remember, they had figures and vehicles for that. Black Hole (Vincent and Old Bob the droids), two unwrapped Boba Fett's still in the UPS package from when you had to send away for him in 1981 with cutout seals from the other figures you bought. The Cheerio's cards, the Burger King Glasses (whole classic trilogy), the dixie cups, you name it. It's a museum. Like the girl with classic toys episode of Seinfeld.

So with that introduction out the way, here's an email I got from him today. His son Connor is 5 now and as ruthless a collector as they come. Just like Dad. And Grandpa.

"Score! The new E3 Preview figures are out. Saturday night we picked up 2 General Grievous, the lava planet ambassador, and the wookie soldier (there were no R2 units which I thought was odd!) There is actually a funny story behind it. I was in the aisle with my son and daughter and I was looking at the Man Thing Marvel figure and Connor goes Hay dad they have a Grievous. I was like get out of here, no they don't. My son was like yeah they do! I lean over and look down the isle and said OH MY GOD THEY DO! I had known that they were out but never expected to find one on a Saturday night. We laughed all weekend about it. We also picked up that red Clone Trooper with the 2 laser guns.

later"

*UPDATE*: SWMike sends in this link of Super Grande Explo-zee-ann of Star Wars merchandise at WalMart.

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Speaking of when we grew up...
The 'Happy Days' cast has another reunion special this week. 30 year anniversary. Thursday night at 8pm. If you happen to catch Cha-Chi, there's ointments for that.

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Weirdo German Socialists Gone Wild!

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You don't even wanna know the piece I wrote on getting rid of my Contour this past weekend, the 'Green Goose'... my car of the last 7 years. Another coat of polish and I'll be delivering the 'Old Yeller' of sheet metal. Stay tuned. Or run now. Or buy Visine for monitor eyes.

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Sting is going on tour again in April. Back to basics with a four piece rooted more in guitar and rock. Like the Soul Cages tour of 1991, but this time purposely playing college towns and smaller arenas, like Van Andel in Grand Rapids, MI. To again get back in the rock nature of a quartet with more stretching and improvising.

Soap + Box ='s:
I've heard the bitching. For years. I understand (yet don't really agree, but anyway...). But if you like superb music, played by world class musicians, go see this tour. For 2 hours you can forget the 'arrogance - smugness - tantric yoga sex- anti-Police reunion - Jaguar commercial - tries to act in movies - vegetarian - too many songs about love - Rainforest saving - Elton John hugging - thinks he's all that at 50' catty perception of Sting the celebrity and go see why all that shit doesn't change the fact that he sells out wherever he goes for a reason: He puts on a great show, his bands can play their ass off, and yes, he IS that good. The shows with the bigger bands by nature have to be more streamlined with that many players, but 4 people can stretch alot. And Sting proved that in the Police and on the 91 and 93 tours with the 4-piece.

Ok fine, make me use the big guns you hipsters:
"they'll probably play more old Police tunes!...In fact Sting even said so."

Fine, make me pull out the Cred Grenade:
The keyboardist is Shayne Fontayne (Lone Justice, Bruce Springsteen), and the drummer is Josh Freese, the new 'session cat that plays with everyone' these days and currently a member of A Perfect Circle. Now if these "legit" guys, who are around 30, and love alot of the same hip music that we persnickety Sting bitchers like, why on Earth would they play with him? The money you might say? Oh but that would be selling out, and that's a big no-no to us Generation X'ers, except for U2, Bruce, REM, and Wilco. They just sell-out arenas, no corporation underwrites their tours, no...

Just go see Sting kids, he's good. And the tix are $40, not $80. It'll be like when your parents took you to Neil Diamond and it took you a week to tell only your closest friend in confidence that it was actually a fantastic show. (This is before mock-retro-feigned-worship of Neil took hold.)

You're My Dawg, uuhh, Mr. DawgMan

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Ran-dome

A funny reply from a friend who's birthday I wished him well on yesterday:
"For what its worth, I only have one more year left to
enjoy the much coveted 18-34 demographic. In exactly
one year, I could be walking down the street drinking
a Pepsi and no one will care. Sigh...

Well, at least he can still chomp a Dorito and scream EXTREEEEEEEMELY loud. Because of the EXTREEEEEME flavor. But he might be too old for that. But then why would anyone want to do that?
T.H.B. thinks it might be due to the exreeeeeme lack of parenting skills that allowed a generation of teenagers to respond favorably to advertising depicting them in a blue-green film stock filter dreamland where screaming for what you want, whenever one wants, is rewarded with sugar, great clothes, free rock instruments, and whatever Junior wanted in the first place. Which seems to be most likely looking like a supermodel while banging a stranger in a bathroom with the door open letting the party crowd watch.


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It's In The Cards...
Funny how in the card game UNO, the instructions state that if you play a Wild Draw Four card, you better not have had a color or number that could have been played instead of the Wild card. Because someone can challenge you saying "I think you had a 'correct' card you could have played.' If the Wild Draw Four card has been played illegally, the offending player must draw 4 cards instead. But if the card has been correctly played, the CHALLENGER must draw 2 cards in addition to the 4 cards that the Wild card first demanded them to.

Kinda funny... when the gold-digging groupie later admits that she lied about Mr. Athlete raping her, you don't see her name and identity get dragged thru the media mud too as a penalty. I.e. pick up her 6 cards

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Whoa...this site is cooky:

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This Rush Calender saved my work cube mojo. The classic red Tama set on the lakeraft is worth the price alone. (see the example pic once there)

Here's (to you) Johnny

GoshDAMN'T.

Johnny Carson flew away Sunday.
1925-2005
(Just look at any news site.)

Coincidentally Saturday night I popped my VHS of the Rat Pack special from 1964; Sammy, Dean , and Frank doing a charity concert in St. Louis, and Johnny was the MC. Hadn't watched it in 4 years. He was a last minute replacement it's said on the show. I'm standing in the kitchen, watching the TV from 20 feet away while chatting and cooking, watching a young 1964 Johnny smooth the crowd over with his boyish charm and mature jokes. Kept thinking to myself how much I loved, and dearly missed, Carson.

Now again, I'm reminded of this weird thing ('thing' is the best best word for it) where right before a celebrity dies, I just so happen to have watched a movie with them in it, or searched online for clips about them, talked about them at a party...stuff like that. It's weird. It's not a random coincidence thing that I'm making up for attention. I don't foresee or predict celebrity deaths. It's not all celebrities. Just enough to have made me realize that by some strange chance, I was thinking about them alot, out of nowhere, right before they died.

I'm going to start a list of when this happens.

I feel lucky to be able to say, like so many people and generations, that I grew up with Johnny. I remember spending the night over brother Paul and Phil's down the block, (two of my gang of friends on the block), at 9 years old, staying up all night on soda, pizza, and Life cereal we'd put peanut butter on. We watched the Tonight show and this one time it was close to President's Day. Johnny did a bit where he was Abe Lincoln, in full costume, and while trying to deliver a speech, different parts of his clothes would fly off from bullets being shot at him. His tall hat blowing off right in beat with the puncline of some hilariously bad joke he was telling.
We fell back howling onto the "floor" of sleeping bags, crushed chips, and duffle bags full of Atari games and toothbrushes, the Modern Day Munitions of Sleepovers on my block. Pillows and sleeping bags bunched up against the foot of dressers and bed legs, a socio-physics anomoly; proving its possible to cram that much pre-adolescent energy into a space that *should* cause discomfort, irritability, and short patience spans.

It always sucked dismantling Camp BoyFort the morning after. But the smell of the [hosting friend's] Mom's way of cooking eggs for the Overnight Troops was always a mesmerizing alarm clock. Because every friend's sleepover had a different breakfast smell. Possibly one of the first experiences (and quite universal I'd say) kids have of learning that the world is not the same everywhere.

I also remember July of 1985, we took our family camper up to Interlochen campground near Traverse City. Running around the campground, I came back for more money to use in the garage/rec room/arcade. Standing inside the screen door of the camper, for a second I watched the little tiny TV we had in the camper, it was on the Tonight Show and Johnny was wearing a white blazer, chin in his left hand, left elbow on the desk talking to ... to....God I can see the guy but can't get the face in memory to unblur. There was just something comforting about seeing Johnny on TV late at night. You could be 5 hours away from home, bored, not knowing where anything fun to do was, but since Johnny was on TV, you still felt like the world was the same.

I had a stiff drink at TC's in Ypsi the night after Dean Martin died, the night after Christmas 95. In honor of him. And I don't drink stiff drinks really. But some men just deserve a real drink in their honor, since they did things the real way, with real class. Johnny was a class act. I need to drink for him tonight. He could infer the saucier punchline by delivering it in an opposite, and even more innocent context. The contrast of the punchline to the hinting racy nature of the setup is what made it genius. Everyone's blushing, everyone knows the subtext, but everyone from Grandma to us Cub Scouts could laugh and appreciate the joke. And noone had to explain, or recap, or reiterate. Discretion is such a lost art anymore, eapecially in comedy. If done right, the naughtiest context can sneak thru on national TV if there is class and an obvious use of strategic restraint in shaping the joke. Maybe like a Zen master riding a bull thru a china shop, without breaking or knocking anything over. Making something fit that shouldn't, if you just take the time to guide it right.

I get in the car to come to work this Monday morning and NPR reminds me that from waking till the radio dial, I forgot Johnny died. The sadness came back, and listening to Johnny do Carnac with Ed, and other bits from a montage of clips they prepared, it hit home again how much comedy and TV has really changed in the 13-15 years since Johnny's era ended. So much cynicism, anger, pessimism. (And its not lost on me that we recognize in others what we recognize in ourselves) It's a cultural thing, we can root back and break down the reasons why via media and the last 20 years of Americana, yadda yadda...

But Carson, for me, reminded of that bygone era where you just simply dressed up for certain things without question, a good joke was a requirement of a man's social skills, and having a bar in your house or basement rec room was a symbol of welcome and goodwill, not a measure of repressed escapist white-trash tendencies. Your guests came over, you fixed them a drink. Revving your bar was like bringing the nice dishes out. The skill and ceremony of making the drink was a visual and tangible statement of the hosts' appreciation and care for their guests. I choose to take the time to create and produce something for your pleasure. Now, we tell our guests to grab a Mike's Hard Lemonade out of the fridge themselves.

Anyway... the Carson clips ended on NPR. I think for a moment, wish Johnny's spirit a due rest, and hit another dial. Right on the money, the chorus of Bruce Hornsby's 'End Of The Innocence' comes thru the speakers. Life is pretty cool.


I'll bet he's laughing with so many of his dear friends who left a long time ago now.

Here's a link to a great audio piece on Johnny, from NPR.

Nice is a Nice word.

And pleasant to look at too. Ever really look at the shapes of what 'Nice' (as letters) look like as one word/image?
Try it.
(Think of it as 'Squiggle thing, line with dot, half a circle, half a circle with a shelf)

Another fun one like it:
-mom
Turn it on side:
3
0
3
(looks like a funky comb)

Upside down:
wow

Mom looking at reflection in water:
MOM
WOW

For the Goth/Tim Burton fan in you, it's Mom looking at her twin sister trapped under ice.
We're an equal sensibility blog here.


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Here' something extremely pleasant to look at: The full new Tears For Fears video.
Brittany Murphy looks very cool in it. In one fell recommendation by her agent, she went from another ignorable generic Britney-look actress to serious Below Cred Recipient

This video transcends being a fan or not. Its just good art.
Disagree? Sorry, you're wrong.

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Joy was right. I do appreciate this:
Mr. Potato Head Goes to the Dark Side

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6 lb. Burger
I saw them open for Five Dollar Brownie at St. Andrews once.
No, er, wait...that was Funk Bunker.

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Hate blaring TV's in waiting rooms, restaurants?
Meet your new friend, TV B-Gone.

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My new band is gonna be called 'Outback Outhouse Out Back.'
Maybe.

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T.H.B. sends in:

F*cking idiots. IDIOTS.
Christians issue gay warning on SpongeBob video
Toss your baby blankets folks. That's next. Soft cloths against the skin at an early influencing age may cause soft fabric purchase decisions later in life meaning more sensitivity-->meaning more liberal attitudes-->meaning more chance of being gay maybe. Baby blue for boys needs to change too. Make it dark Navy blue. Strong. Like a business suit you wear to church. And get rid of that pink girl blanket. Too gentle. Suzie won't ever be Head BallBuster CEO of MegaCorp Inc if she's taught to be a softie. Get the dark fire engine red blanket, get the fire burning in her early so get what she wants, empower her. That blanket needs to be the subconcious forbearer of the standout red strapless dress she wears to the Promotion Ceremony. To prove why she now runs the corporation/who wears the pants around that office, and let the office guys wives know who Diva #1 is. A red like the burnt-flesh hole in the goalie's torso from the soccer ball Suzie torpedo'd thru her into the net behind her. You can hear Emilio's Breakfast Club dad screaming on the sideline: "WIN Damn't...WIN!"

Don't use plastic baby spoons to feed infants either, can't condition Junior to believe they're not good enough for metal silverware and a prosperous life. Get rid of the strollers too, society ain't going to wheel their ass around their whole life, don't ingrain that mindset early on. Leave them on the couch, to fend for themselves. Make sure they understand "Don't be Gay, Don't Expect Help Or Money." Kermit the frog is okay though, he's green. Like a Green Beret. Just the kind of self reliance we need to teach kids. Toys? who needs'em. Let'em loose at a construction site, they'll figure out what hurts and what doesn't. Darwinism. The crawling toddler who doesn't fall down the recently poured elevator shaft doesn't grow up to be a shady contractor not getting the job done right.

We'll get there America. We_just_have_to_try_harder.

America's Parent's Idols

T.H.B. chimes in...
[Sigh...]
Watching the American Idol tryout show while folding laundry really concerned me, as it always does. Some of these poor kids obviously experiencing their first "No...you Actually Can't" on live national TV. Good looking teens of OK/so-so talent who by their shutzpah, vigor, and extreme confidence seem likely to have been fetish-ized and led to believe they are really, truly, beyond a doubt, the most special-est, talented, un-wrong, beautiful children in the Galaxy's Prime System. John Dewey's 'Progressive Education', social and esteem-based learning, parents punching out little league coaches, overbearing parent-managers of kid stars... these striving Super Parents have been feeding their kids so much worship that they're feeding them to the Idol-esque shows of this era like raw chud to be chewed up for ratings. It's sad and very disheartening to think on how screwed up these kids are going to be.

If you've ever sensed this too, check out these rather strong articles about our modern education systems contributing to the mindset of these young 'superstars':

"Our Killing Schools: Intellectual and Moral Wastelands that Destroy America's Youth"

"A Nation of Wimps"

"Modern Education Kills"

It's not every kid. Just way too many of them.
You know...the ones in the "...Gone Wild" videos.

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Ok, fun less-depressing stuff...

A teaser clip of the forthcoming new video by the reunited Tears For Fears.
Windows format
Quicktime format

Cool to see the classic TFF ornate video style imagined with new millenium technology. And Brittany Murphy stars in it.
The new TFF album reuniting Roland and Curt is absolutely superb btw.

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Ok, now really fun stuff...

Animal from the Muppet Show VS. Buddy Rich in a drum solo duel.

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Well... this obviously calls for
This Blog's First Ever "Drumming 101":
Buddy Rich was and pretty much still is regarded as the best drummer that ever lived. John Bonham of Zeppelin, Neil Peart of Rush, Keith Moon of the Who...Buddy Rich was THEIR hero growing up. If you'd like to see why, go here to listen and watch him play.

But no matter what, at least watch these if anything:
Buddy with Tommy James Orchestra

Buddy on Johnny Carson
Not bad for a 62 year-old, eh?

Watch those and the next time you zone out with some BT's to the 'Moby Dick' drum solo off that Zeppelin DVD dude, you'll hear some serious similarities bro.

I Guarantee It.


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KING FUN:
Now we know where the defecting Russian Generals went who wanted no part of the Cold War; they gave lessons in the Disco Inferno!
Stevie Z sent me that one

Bibim Bop ya over the head

While enjoying our almost-traditional Sunday breakfast at the great KOSMO deli in A2's Kerrytown (Bibim Bop and Kim Bop), a loud walluping hammering emanated from the fish deli across the main walkway. Loud enough to make anyone in the indoor open foodmarket area turn and wonder what poor object angered someone so much to merit that kind of a beating. I deduced to Joyous that the guy must be tenderizing some meat or fish. Interesting and kind of funny, we agreed, that in order to tenderize something, you have to be so brutal with it.

At that moment I remembered the documentary that Joyous rented this weekend, 'Girlhood', a powerful documentary that follows two teen girls in the juvie system over three years. Both of them in for very violent crimes. Leaving the house, the last scene we watched before cutting the DVD player, was with one of the juvie counselors being especially tough and intense with one of the girls, trying to get through to her so she'd soften up and consider more deeply her life's paths and decisions.

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Today's Don't Put It In Your Notes, Put It In Your Life Alert:
Before buying online, check here at dealcoupon.com. A good chance there's an online discount for ya from the site you're at, like free shipping, or $ off over certain amounts ordered. You can search by company, type of products, you name it.

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Quite The Thought, sent from a buddy currently in UCLA's MBA program:

"Three decades ago sociologist Daniel Bell postulated the ``cultural contradictions of capitalism.'' He meant that capitalism, by its success, subverts its cultural prerequisites. At first, capitalism depended on a Protestant asceticism -- thrift, deferral of gratification, industriousness. But capitalism produces wealth, and a shift from production to consumption -- the marketing of hedonism -- as the economy's motor. The banishment of asceticism by acquisitiveness means the systematic inflammation of appetites and the undermining of stern capitalist virtues. "

Sounds like an Austin Powers party...

'The Tramp nightclub', a Playboy playmate karate-kicks another girl from the dance pole during a catfight... does life get any better than this?

A mouse friend of mine shares his disappointment about the fighting girls...

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Faaaan-TASTIC!

In my head I hear the meter-peaking Looney Tunes "byeeoOURW-BROWMP!"sound when she hit.


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Until I figure out how to get his link to appear somewhere permanent, make sure to hit Zac's "DataWhat?" blog.
Like, every day. To see how much his blog has influenced my Blognciousness.

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First Trivial Observation Put On The Blog Instead Of Mass-Emailed To Friend's During Their Workday:

Sean Hannity and Rush Limbaugh have the same weird pronunciations when it comes to S's. It's this weird sound like they're kind of puckering their mouths due to extra spittle produced from too many cigars and talking like country club members a la Ted Knight/Judge Shmails in Caddyshack. Slightly more tension and protrusion in the bottom lip than the top. A slur about half as intense as a good Sean Connery impression, but more 'Ssssh' sound passing the front top teeth, than a "SHHH"ing like ol' 007. It sounds like their mouths move the same way that Tim Matheson's does when he talks. Watch 'Animal House' or anything he's in and you'll see.


Tim was this guy ("Otter") in Animal House:


And speaking of, check out this cool site with pics from when the Animal House cast reunited for the done-up DVD when it came out recently. Cool to see what they look like now. They did a parade again with floats like the movie in the same college town. My girlfriend worked and took classes at that school. Up in Oregon.
She says she never went to any Delta parties... but the way she can drink me under the table, I dunno...

**FRIDAY REMINDER!**
The new Battlestar Galactica series (given the greenlight after last Christmas's mini-series) starts tonight. 8:30, SciFi channel.

It's the re-imagined BG, and last year's mini-series was extremely well-done.
Great acting and writing, great tasteful effects. A grittier, updated, more realistic take on the 'ragtag fleet trying to escape destruction and find this "Earth".' This production team did an excellent job retooling this. Nothing at all bordering on campy or 'Star Wars for Sunday Night" like the 70s show was.

You wouldn't think Starbuck being a girl would work, but it really really did.
Edward James Olmos, (the Latino captain from Miami Vice), plays Commander Adama (the Lornbe Green role). He's a tough old coot and is superb.

Hope you enjoy if you check it out.
www.scifi.com/battlestar

Behold the B(eL)irthing of BeLog

Well, it only took months and bodily threats from my friend Zac to finally get a proper repository for my catharsii, i.e. a blog. But It's Happened.

I assume a proper Christening and Mission Statement is in order:
[cough, ahem.]

With this blog I swear to upold the principles of truth, equality, and uh, freedom in mass communication aaaaand ehhh, uhmm, ethical treatment of all opinions and ide...aw fuck it., it's gonna be about lightsabres and laser fights in space. And sweet drumsets and Van Halen rants defending all 3 singers. Pretty much what friends know I really only seriously get excited about. (Along with Best Buy coupons, toboggan wipeout footage, The Young Ones, online banking, Her Joyous' cooking, Fripp aphorisms, and seeing in one year Phish, Van Halen, new Level 42 [dvd], Rush, and Tears For Fears live.)

Also, a self-imposed exercise in more effective communication while having fun. And probably best of all, if machines had souls and lungs, a collective rush of air from the sighs of my friend's inboxes will be sieving the North Woods in celebration of their exit from Below Email Bondage. And Her Joyous can only be juust_sooo_thrilled that I have another reason to spend time on this computer. But I'll be good.

We'll have links, and silliness, and Adventures In Grammar. And pictures to underscore the comedic intent. Please forgive the probable changing looks as I find my inner blog fashion sense.

I swear, if it gets out of control...and I start to leave the rails...I'll at least try to make it a fun exhausting.

So let's get it started and see what happens:
"Drum roll, er, uh, hellacious quads at Mach4 please Alex?"

(The drummers out there will get that one)

Hey, I know her!

I went to high school with this girl from Trenton on "24" . The Detroit Free Press did the linked article on her. Did a one-act play with her in drama class, hung out together at Denny's till 4am after the 10-year reunion. Very fun, she's done a bunch of movies and TV in the last 8 years. Coolio, good for her. Everyone but her got cut from the '24' cast this year.

T-minus for the 3rd time

more on this later. Sheesh...

[update/splanaton] It took 3 tries to get the blog name and registration solidified. I made Ruprecht look like a Rhodes Scholar.