There’s been some bitching going on with some liberals about bringing back the fairness doctrine in the media. The rise and dominance of conservative talk radio causes liberals to piss and moan about how they’re not getting a fair shake on the airwaves. Wanna know why this is? Well simply put, conservative talk shows get ratings, and ratings mean more listeners, more listeners means more ad revenue for radio station owners.
All across the country radio stations are switching away from the so called progressive talk shows – not just switching to conservative, but to any other format – for one reason, no one listens to liberals on the radio. No one listening means radio station owners aren’t making money. Now there are whispers that we need to bring the fairness doctrine back in to play on the airwaves. Simply put, the fairness doctrine says you must broadcast differing points of view if you air politically themed shows. Reagan got rid of the fairness doctrine in the 80’s and conservative talk shows have taken over the marketplace, for several reasons, but mostly because they make money. Just take a gander at an this op/ed piece in the Washington Post: http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2009/02/06/AR2009020602511.html
So now liberals go back to one of their founding principles – being fair. We have to be fair to everybody. Give everybody a chance to be heard. Don’t give grades because those failing would have their self image hurt, so pass everyone to the next grade. Don’t keep score at little league because those who don’t score enough to win would be sad. And finally, PUNISH radio station owners who make money with profitable programs because it’s not fair that they are promoting only one viewpoint. The assumption is that you’re too stupid to discern for yourself what you like and turn up on the radio and what you don’t like and switch to another channel. They have to do that shit for you, just like everything else they stand for.
President Obama says we shouldn’t listen to Rush Limbaugh anymore. He says this because he feels Rush is part of the old guard conservative Republicans who have divided this country. Problem is, Republicans may have listened to Rush but didn’t follow his advice and put up a non-conservative presidential candidate and got their ass handed to them. Republicans were a grease spot on the last ballot. Ronald Reagan’s conservatism swept away years of liberal democrat rule. W’s bad PR and poor leadership, conservatively speaking, and republican pussies in congress just swept it right back to the liberals.
Start up the fairness doctrine? No, no, no, not on my watch. Freedom of speech to a liberal means only if you speak liberal. Anything religious, conservative or anti-liberal is to them close minded, uncouth, unintelligent and just not fair. I say you can stick fair up your ass sideways and break it off at the handle. Liberals always fail and then want us to shore them up because it’s ‘fair.’ Life is rarely fair to any of us, the difference is conservatives aren’t looking for the government to solve any of their problems, liberals feel the government should be the solution to all your problems.
The Constitution guarantees us the right to pursue happiness, liberals would seek to change that to the just the right to happiness and they would do the pursuing for you.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
The Wire
A few weeks ago I was at Best Buy picking up the latest Coen Brothers movie “Burn After Reading.” Since I am not really all that much of a movie theater fan (see the very first post) most of my movie experiences now are enjoyed in the comfort of my home. I figure I’m going to be spending 30 bucks at the theater anyway with the ticket and a trip to the concession stand, so why not just get the DVD? I get to keep the movie, I’m not bothered by anyone, and I can get the Milk Duds from the gas station.
Well after picking up my copy, I started browsing for other stuff. My son has noticed a weird habit I have which is to pick up 4-5 movies, piddle around a bit, then decide to put most of them back for another day. I didn’t do that this time though.
As I walked through the television shows aisle, I spotted a grey box. I sauntered over there and a wry grin slowly began on my face as I noticed the box was on sale. This box contained what I consider to be the best television show ever made – The Wire.
My love affair with the Wire began a few years ago when I was home sick with the flu. After my divorce, I made a point to have a few pay cable channels at my disposal with on demand service. I had seen a few episodes of the Wire when I was in hotel rooms on various trips I make from time to time. So sitting at home with the flu totally kicking my ass, I noticed that a new season of the Wire was on it’s way (season 3) and that the first two seasons were on demand to get you caught up. Lying on my back for 7 days is a total bitch, but I was never bored because I watched the first two seasons of the Wire, wire to wire.
Without getting into the meat and potatoes and filling this post with spoilers, is the most entertaining, engrossing, fun, funny, serious, dramatic, ass kicking television show I have ever witnessed. The first season revolves around the daily lives of murderous drug dealers, junkies and the cops who try to keep it all in line, all set in the projects of Baltimore. It might sound like a typical cop show from that simplistic description, but it’s almost Shakespearean in it’s examination of human interaction. Thugs with human responses to brutality, cops who have no choice but to accept the stupidity of their bosses, junkies who do what they do in a constant search for the next shot.
I know the phrase ‘keeping it real’ is pretty lame, but this show goes beyond the stereotypes of regular cop and criminal shows to show you how difficult it is to be honest, brave, pathetic, arrogant, and dirty on TV. This isn’t Hill Street Blues, not NYPD Blue or even CSI for that matter. It’s as if a really talented camera operator worked both sides of the crime scene to show you what exactly is going on and why. There’s plenty of entertainment to go around as it swings from emotion to emotion from everyday life and affirms what we already know and have experienced in a way that no other television show has ever done. Or at least the ones I’ve attempted to follow.
There are many likable and hateable characters here. The centerpiece of them all is a gangster named Omar. A gangster with a code. Omar roams the projects engaging in what he calls ‘rip and run.’ He steals drugs, money or both from other drug dealers. All at the point of a shotgun, but never at an honest citizen. And he’s gay. And funny, and ferocious and honest and despicable and pure all at the same time. The dialog in this series is always well played out and well spoken by actors who care about what they are doing. I always seem to care about what Omar does and says, and as far as I’m concerned, most of the best and memorable lines come from him.
After a drug kingpin Avon Barksdale takes revenge on Omar for stealing their stash by killing his lover, Omar sets his mind to do anything and everything to get them back, including cooperating with the police. He sets himself up as an eye witness to a killing of a trial witness by Barksdale’s crew. He wasn’t an eyeball witness, but he knows all of the details, even the exotic gun used by the thug to commit the murder. At the trial Barksdale’s cooked defense lawyer launches into a tirade about how Omar has no credibility whatsoever because of his way to make a living, countless run ins with the law and despicable character. He calls Omar a parasite living off of the drug trade and misfortunes of others. Omar interrupts him and says, “Just like you. I got a shotgun, you got a briefcase.” The stunned lawyer is speechless, the judge is speechless, anybody who watched the show is speechless. Keeping it real indeed. The honest badass. A cool scene indeed, and he continues this type of behavior throughout 5 glorious seasons.
I couldn’t recommend anything higher than the Wire for your Netflix list or outright buying the whole thing like I did. You will laugh, you will cry, you will be disgusted, you will want justice, not just for the cops, but the gangsters too. I’m a grown man who’s not afraid to admit to a few tears shed. And some of those tears where after watching a few of these episodes. It’s that engrossing. You care what happens and you care about your character.
Do yourself a favor and get started on this if you haven’t. Report back to me when you’re done.
Well after picking up my copy, I started browsing for other stuff. My son has noticed a weird habit I have which is to pick up 4-5 movies, piddle around a bit, then decide to put most of them back for another day. I didn’t do that this time though.
As I walked through the television shows aisle, I spotted a grey box. I sauntered over there and a wry grin slowly began on my face as I noticed the box was on sale. This box contained what I consider to be the best television show ever made – The Wire.
My love affair with the Wire began a few years ago when I was home sick with the flu. After my divorce, I made a point to have a few pay cable channels at my disposal with on demand service. I had seen a few episodes of the Wire when I was in hotel rooms on various trips I make from time to time. So sitting at home with the flu totally kicking my ass, I noticed that a new season of the Wire was on it’s way (season 3) and that the first two seasons were on demand to get you caught up. Lying on my back for 7 days is a total bitch, but I was never bored because I watched the first two seasons of the Wire, wire to wire.
Without getting into the meat and potatoes and filling this post with spoilers, is the most entertaining, engrossing, fun, funny, serious, dramatic, ass kicking television show I have ever witnessed. The first season revolves around the daily lives of murderous drug dealers, junkies and the cops who try to keep it all in line, all set in the projects of Baltimore. It might sound like a typical cop show from that simplistic description, but it’s almost Shakespearean in it’s examination of human interaction. Thugs with human responses to brutality, cops who have no choice but to accept the stupidity of their bosses, junkies who do what they do in a constant search for the next shot.
I know the phrase ‘keeping it real’ is pretty lame, but this show goes beyond the stereotypes of regular cop and criminal shows to show you how difficult it is to be honest, brave, pathetic, arrogant, and dirty on TV. This isn’t Hill Street Blues, not NYPD Blue or even CSI for that matter. It’s as if a really talented camera operator worked both sides of the crime scene to show you what exactly is going on and why. There’s plenty of entertainment to go around as it swings from emotion to emotion from everyday life and affirms what we already know and have experienced in a way that no other television show has ever done. Or at least the ones I’ve attempted to follow.
There are many likable and hateable characters here. The centerpiece of them all is a gangster named Omar. A gangster with a code. Omar roams the projects engaging in what he calls ‘rip and run.’ He steals drugs, money or both from other drug dealers. All at the point of a shotgun, but never at an honest citizen. And he’s gay. And funny, and ferocious and honest and despicable and pure all at the same time. The dialog in this series is always well played out and well spoken by actors who care about what they are doing. I always seem to care about what Omar does and says, and as far as I’m concerned, most of the best and memorable lines come from him.
After a drug kingpin Avon Barksdale takes revenge on Omar for stealing their stash by killing his lover, Omar sets his mind to do anything and everything to get them back, including cooperating with the police. He sets himself up as an eye witness to a killing of a trial witness by Barksdale’s crew. He wasn’t an eyeball witness, but he knows all of the details, even the exotic gun used by the thug to commit the murder. At the trial Barksdale’s cooked defense lawyer launches into a tirade about how Omar has no credibility whatsoever because of his way to make a living, countless run ins with the law and despicable character. He calls Omar a parasite living off of the drug trade and misfortunes of others. Omar interrupts him and says, “Just like you. I got a shotgun, you got a briefcase.” The stunned lawyer is speechless, the judge is speechless, anybody who watched the show is speechless. Keeping it real indeed. The honest badass. A cool scene indeed, and he continues this type of behavior throughout 5 glorious seasons.
I couldn’t recommend anything higher than the Wire for your Netflix list or outright buying the whole thing like I did. You will laugh, you will cry, you will be disgusted, you will want justice, not just for the cops, but the gangsters too. I’m a grown man who’s not afraid to admit to a few tears shed. And some of those tears where after watching a few of these episodes. It’s that engrossing. You care what happens and you care about your character.
Do yourself a favor and get started on this if you haven’t. Report back to me when you’re done.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
A Midwestern Conservative in King Obama's Court
It was at the White House that I came across a curious stranger whom I’m going to talk about. He attracted me by three things: his candid campaign promises, his message of hope, and the teeming throng who praised his every move. We fell together, as modest people will, in the tail of the herd that was being shown through, and he at once began to say things which sounded ok, but I didn’t agree with. As he talked along, softly, pleasantly, flowingly, liberally, he seemed to drift away imperceptibly out of this world and time and to some remote area and old forgotten country, and gradually wove such a spell about me that I seem to move among the specters of dead Kennedys and shadows of entitlement and dust and mold of raw antiquity, holding speech with a relic of it!
Ok, so I got the blahs. Every channel I turn on has this dude with the big grin staring me down almost to shame me that I didn’t jump on the bandwagon. Shame on you Cubby for not believing in change we can believe in. Oh bother, what’s on HBO? Surely I can escape the glare of his eye there, uh. . . no, they’ve got the inauguration celebration on a loop on four channels. Shoot, this guy’s as ubiquitous as a ShamWow commercial. I’m like Frodo climbing to Mount Doom, the eye is ever watching, searching for the precious. His gaze is inescapable and wandering the landscape of Mordor and beyond looking for foes. Conservatives like myself are entering the shadow and Galadriel has faded to the West . . . .
I want to like him, I want him to be good for us, I want him to hurtle the problems we face into a sea of forgetfulness and we’ll all live happily ever after. I want to be excited and giddy that the ‘old and busted’ is out and the ‘new hotness’ is in. But I’m not. Surely this Barack-O-Gasm can’t last forever, can it? Am I really as goofy as silk shirted Tony Manero, a sad reminder of nothing more than a fad from a bygone era? The ultimate cool has turned to taped horn rimmed glasses dorkiness in a fortnight. I used to be the captain of the football team who dated the head cheerleader, the BMOC if you will. I’m the same guy, it’s just that I turned up at the 25 year reunion bald, overweight and drunk, wearing the same letter jacket ranting and raving about the good ole days and grabbing the ass of any female who wanders into my personal zone. Pathetic.
Reagan’s America is surely slouching towards the cliff, being swept over by the new Liberal revolution. Any and all objections and defenses are met with scorn and ridicule. The Conservative right is about as popular as Ted Nugent at a Peta Convention. Oh Reagan, where is thy victory, where is thy sting?
No use bellyaching as I am wont to do, all has been swept aside and I’m just going to have to gut it out. Obama has certainly brought me hope, I hope that someone will come along to restore my faith in my beliefs which have been shaken, yes, but not abandoned. I’ll have to be happy with the role of Tom Servo and Crow T. Robot, ever pointing out the shortcomings of the crappy movie of the week. Some might say sour grapes, others would say sore loser, I say let the snark begin. I’ve put up with it for 8 years, perhaps I can give as good as I got.
Ok, so I got the blahs. Every channel I turn on has this dude with the big grin staring me down almost to shame me that I didn’t jump on the bandwagon. Shame on you Cubby for not believing in change we can believe in. Oh bother, what’s on HBO? Surely I can escape the glare of his eye there, uh. . . no, they’ve got the inauguration celebration on a loop on four channels. Shoot, this guy’s as ubiquitous as a ShamWow commercial. I’m like Frodo climbing to Mount Doom, the eye is ever watching, searching for the precious. His gaze is inescapable and wandering the landscape of Mordor and beyond looking for foes. Conservatives like myself are entering the shadow and Galadriel has faded to the West . . . .
I want to like him, I want him to be good for us, I want him to hurtle the problems we face into a sea of forgetfulness and we’ll all live happily ever after. I want to be excited and giddy that the ‘old and busted’ is out and the ‘new hotness’ is in. But I’m not. Surely this Barack-O-Gasm can’t last forever, can it? Am I really as goofy as silk shirted Tony Manero, a sad reminder of nothing more than a fad from a bygone era? The ultimate cool has turned to taped horn rimmed glasses dorkiness in a fortnight. I used to be the captain of the football team who dated the head cheerleader, the BMOC if you will. I’m the same guy, it’s just that I turned up at the 25 year reunion bald, overweight and drunk, wearing the same letter jacket ranting and raving about the good ole days and grabbing the ass of any female who wanders into my personal zone. Pathetic.
Reagan’s America is surely slouching towards the cliff, being swept over by the new Liberal revolution. Any and all objections and defenses are met with scorn and ridicule. The Conservative right is about as popular as Ted Nugent at a Peta Convention. Oh Reagan, where is thy victory, where is thy sting?
No use bellyaching as I am wont to do, all has been swept aside and I’m just going to have to gut it out. Obama has certainly brought me hope, I hope that someone will come along to restore my faith in my beliefs which have been shaken, yes, but not abandoned. I’ll have to be happy with the role of Tom Servo and Crow T. Robot, ever pointing out the shortcomings of the crappy movie of the week. Some might say sour grapes, others would say sore loser, I say let the snark begin. I’ve put up with it for 8 years, perhaps I can give as good as I got.
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Holiday Movie Review
As most of you know by now, I have a tendency to stay up much later than any sane person would on a week night. It's not uncommon for me to be up past 1 am if not for the simple reason that I have difficulty falling asleep unless I'm on the verge of sleepy time. I've literally stared at the ceiling for hours because I went to bed too early and then tossed an turned like a fat guy having his mouth sewn shut and then dumped into a vat of glazed doughnuts. I pay the price the next day at work as I constantly yawn and lurch around in a semi conscience funk and stumble through menial tasks that have the appearance of actual work, but in reality is nothing more than my struggle to snap out of my yawning slumber and become aware of my surroundings.
One of the many benefits of staying up late is that you see things on television that many people don't. My favorites include psychotic infomercials with mugging 'hosts' selling gadgets and kitchen/round the house widgets that look like b.s., smell like b.s., sound like b.s., made from b.s. and taste like a steamy mound of fresh b.s., newly piled from the bull's tucus. Comedy specials on the comedy channel have all the dirty words, the occasional bared fanny on network TV, and stupid movies that cable channels know they could never play during the day are all paraded out after the clock strikes the witching hour. It's a glorious, curious, nauseating and batshit crazy side of television that is the virtual opposite of the crap they put on daytime TV.
Contributing to my lifelong habit of staying up late is the University policy during the holidays. Every other state worker gets even the most obscure holiday off during the year. You won't find any state government office open during President's day. But at the University, you get two weeks off during the Christmas/New Years time of the year. Of course I stretch it out by taking a few days off before the official vacation takes effect. All very nice indeed. The problem is, with no work to show up for in the morning for two and a half weeks, I take the late night habit to the next level. 2 am is not really considered a problem. Waking up refreshed at 10 am the next morning is pretty much the standard at the end of the holiday, making getting out of bed at 6 am the morning of January 5, 2009 much more difficult.
Well yesterday was the day after Christmas. The kids went home, parcels of games, movies and cookies were all tucked under their arms. I checked the schedule for all the movie channels and didn't find much to my liking, but I did notice a horror movie playing on TCM called 'Blood Freaks' starting at 1 am. I highlighted it and went to Best Buy to purchase 'Burn After Reading,' the latest Coen brothers offering. By the time I had got around to watching it, Blood Freaks was already playing. I read the short description of the movie and it had some odd words in it, so I started watching it. I love old horror movies, usually the cheesier the better. I'm an absolute sucker for the old Hammar Studio horror movies - the ones with Christopher Lee and Peter Cushing are my favorites. Blood Freaks was made in the '70's so I was willing to give it a shot.
I have now officially seen the stupidest, most ridiculous, asinine, ludicrous, and banal excuse for a horror film I've ever witnessed. I must point out I didn't make it through the entire movie because the sleepy bug hit me at about 2 am, (either that or my mental capacities began to shut down involuntarily) but what I saw was a stunning display of schlock and grabasserdouchebaggery. I'm going to paraphrase the plot as best I can, but that means I have to smarten up something that actually destroyed creative and intuitive parts of my brain. A guy who smokes pot, rides a chopper and takes a job at a turkey farm. He's given a job of, uh, let's see . . . er . . . some sort of scientific experiment of eating some of the turkey they cooked from the farms birds. And, uh . . . to see uh, what effects . . . ahh fuck it!
HE EATS THE CHEMICALLY LACED TURKEY AND TURNS INTO A GIANT TURKEY!!!
(read that again)
OK, a giant turkey. I don't know if the transformation became complete because I only saw him with a turkey head. And this head was like the worst plastic high school mascot head you've ever seen. And what can you hear in the background? A non-stop loop of turkey gobbles! When he goes into his girlfriends room as 'giant turkey head' boyfriend, she freaks out at first, but then feels compassion for her giant turkey head boyfriend. And there's nothing more terrifying as the moaning sounds of a woman reaching climax mingled with the occasional turkey gobble. After what should have been the most defiant act of bestiality to have ever occurred in the annals of human history, the girlfriend wonders aloud about her future life with giant turkey head man. "What if you stay this way? What are my friends going to think? What if I get pregnant, what's our son going to think about his dad? What will your son look like?" Dialog like that made me coil up into the fetal position and start sucking my thumb.
It's the little things in any movie that can make it something interesting or worth watching, and Blood Freaks is no different. One of the 'scientists' looked like someone who was a pro rassler from the '60's. He looked like a cousin of Cooter from the Dukes of Hazzard tv show. You could literally see the dogshit fumes steaming out of his overalls. The main character - the dude who turns into 'giant turkey head boy' resembled something that would happen if Jay Leno, Elvis Pressley and Larry Flynt all had sex together and this was their love child. His two biker friends fell head first out of a '70's stupid haircut and dorky clothes tree and hit every branch. The 'photography' in this movie was on par with an epileptic 6 year old with an inner ear infection and a dexatrim shunt strapped to it's chest carrying a camera around the swimming pool. The editing was done by a ADHD meth junkie with a fixation with fading to black every 30 seconds. Since I went to bed early, I never saw any blood, so I was wondering what the hell a guy inside a giant plastic turkey head had to do with the plot of a movie entitled 'Blood Freaks?' Don't you have to spill, spurt, drink or otherwise expose blood to the elements in order to be freakish about it?
I looked it up on IMDB and some dude wrote a review on it who was gushing about how fun and stupid the movie was. That guy must have escaped from the maximum security wing of the asylum for the criminally insane and chronic masturbators.
It was all I could do to pick up the remote and turn off the TV. I reasoned later that some of the motor function of my brain and nervous system had been damaged by viewing this movie for a brief time. It's the perfect movie to watch before swallowing 50 sleeping pills with a Draino chaser and shooting yourself in the head while driving your car off a bridge. Tearing my eyes out would have been the logical next step after watching Blood Freaks, but then you would only be left with memories, oh, those terrible memories of a giant plastic turkey head lurking around a turkey farm as the screams of 'gobble gobble gobble. . . gobble' rang in the hallways of your now empty and insane mind. A new form of torture now could be employed by making terrorists view this movie like Alex in A Clockwork Orange, but instead of reforming them from their evil ways they would all melt like that Nazi dude in Raiders of the Lost Ark.
I will go the rest of my life and not see anything remotely as horrifying and mentally damaging as this movie. I could grind up puppies in a food processor with a dull yawn and runny nose and not be as affected as I was after I tried to get to sleep with the ghostly images of this movie in my head and puke inducing dialog still ringing in my ears. I am a changed man.
One of the many benefits of staying up late is that you see things on television that many people don't. My favorites include psychotic infomercials with mugging 'hosts' selling gadgets and kitchen/round the house widgets that look like b.s., smell like b.s., sound like b.s., made from b.s. and taste like a steamy mound of fresh b.s., newly piled from the bull's tucus. Comedy specials on the comedy channel have all the dirty words, the occasional bared fanny on network TV, and stupid movies that cable channels know they could never play during the day are all paraded out after the clock strikes the witching hour. It's a glorious, curious, nauseating and batshit crazy side of television that is the virtual opposite of the crap they put on daytime TV.
Contributing to my lifelong habit of staying up late is the University policy during the holidays. Every other state worker gets even the most obscure holiday off during the year. You won't find any state government office open during President's day. But at the University, you get two weeks off during the Christmas/New Years time of the year. Of course I stretch it out by taking a few days off before the official vacation takes effect. All very nice indeed. The problem is, with no work to show up for in the morning for two and a half weeks, I take the late night habit to the next level. 2 am is not really considered a problem. Waking up refreshed at 10 am the next morning is pretty much the standard at the end of the holiday, making getting out of bed at 6 am the morning of January 5, 2009 much more difficult.
Well yesterday was the day after Christmas. The kids went home, parcels of games, movies and cookies were all tucked under their arms. I checked the schedule for all the movie channels and didn't find much to my liking, but I did notice a horror movie playing on TCM called 'Blood Freaks' starting at 1 am. I highlighted it and went to Best Buy to purchase 'Burn After Reading,' the latest Coen brothers offering. By the time I had got around to watching it, Blood Freaks was already playing. I read the short description of the movie and it had some odd words in it, so I started watching it. I love old horror movies, usually the cheesier the better. I'm an absolute sucker for the old Hammar Studio horror movies - the ones with Christopher Lee and Peter Cushing are my favorites. Blood Freaks was made in the '70's so I was willing to give it a shot.
I have now officially seen the stupidest, most ridiculous, asinine, ludicrous, and banal excuse for a horror film I've ever witnessed. I must point out I didn't make it through the entire movie because the sleepy bug hit me at about 2 am, (either that or my mental capacities began to shut down involuntarily) but what I saw was a stunning display of schlock and grabasserdouchebaggery. I'm going to paraphrase the plot as best I can, but that means I have to smarten up something that actually destroyed creative and intuitive parts of my brain. A guy who smokes pot, rides a chopper and takes a job at a turkey farm. He's given a job of, uh, let's see . . . er . . . some sort of scientific experiment of eating some of the turkey they cooked from the farms birds. And, uh . . . to see uh, what effects . . . ahh fuck it!
HE EATS THE CHEMICALLY LACED TURKEY AND TURNS INTO A GIANT TURKEY!!!
(read that again)
OK, a giant turkey. I don't know if the transformation became complete because I only saw him with a turkey head. And this head was like the worst plastic high school mascot head you've ever seen. And what can you hear in the background? A non-stop loop of turkey gobbles! When he goes into his girlfriends room as 'giant turkey head' boyfriend, she freaks out at first, but then feels compassion for her giant turkey head boyfriend. And there's nothing more terrifying as the moaning sounds of a woman reaching climax mingled with the occasional turkey gobble. After what should have been the most defiant act of bestiality to have ever occurred in the annals of human history, the girlfriend wonders aloud about her future life with giant turkey head man. "What if you stay this way? What are my friends going to think? What if I get pregnant, what's our son going to think about his dad? What will your son look like?" Dialog like that made me coil up into the fetal position and start sucking my thumb.
It's the little things in any movie that can make it something interesting or worth watching, and Blood Freaks is no different. One of the 'scientists' looked like someone who was a pro rassler from the '60's. He looked like a cousin of Cooter from the Dukes of Hazzard tv show. You could literally see the dogshit fumes steaming out of his overalls. The main character - the dude who turns into 'giant turkey head boy' resembled something that would happen if Jay Leno, Elvis Pressley and Larry Flynt all had sex together and this was their love child. His two biker friends fell head first out of a '70's stupid haircut and dorky clothes tree and hit every branch. The 'photography' in this movie was on par with an epileptic 6 year old with an inner ear infection and a dexatrim shunt strapped to it's chest carrying a camera around the swimming pool. The editing was done by a ADHD meth junkie with a fixation with fading to black every 30 seconds. Since I went to bed early, I never saw any blood, so I was wondering what the hell a guy inside a giant plastic turkey head had to do with the plot of a movie entitled 'Blood Freaks?' Don't you have to spill, spurt, drink or otherwise expose blood to the elements in order to be freakish about it?
I looked it up on IMDB and some dude wrote a review on it who was gushing about how fun and stupid the movie was. That guy must have escaped from the maximum security wing of the asylum for the criminally insane and chronic masturbators.
It was all I could do to pick up the remote and turn off the TV. I reasoned later that some of the motor function of my brain and nervous system had been damaged by viewing this movie for a brief time. It's the perfect movie to watch before swallowing 50 sleeping pills with a Draino chaser and shooting yourself in the head while driving your car off a bridge. Tearing my eyes out would have been the logical next step after watching Blood Freaks, but then you would only be left with memories, oh, those terrible memories of a giant plastic turkey head lurking around a turkey farm as the screams of 'gobble gobble gobble. . . gobble' rang in the hallways of your now empty and insane mind. A new form of torture now could be employed by making terrorists view this movie like Alex in A Clockwork Orange, but instead of reforming them from their evil ways they would all melt like that Nazi dude in Raiders of the Lost Ark.
I will go the rest of my life and not see anything remotely as horrifying and mentally damaging as this movie. I could grind up puppies in a food processor with a dull yawn and runny nose and not be as affected as I was after I tried to get to sleep with the ghostly images of this movie in my head and puke inducing dialog still ringing in my ears. I am a changed man.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Politics, Schmolitics, and Fiddlesticks
Dateline, Nebraska, Election Day 2008. Good. God. I. Can’t. Wait. Until. This. Shit. Is. Over.
I was helping an audio/visually challenged friend last night put in a new DVD player. After about 10 minutes of pulling wires and re-plugging them back in I popped on the TV just to make sure it worked. Of course it worked, I’m an audio/visual equipment genius. In to the cable box, out to the TV, out of the DVD player, into the TV. Hey, I didn’t spend 10 years in graduate school for nothing.
Anyway, the TV comes on and who but Keith Olberman comes on. Is there a more gaping assclown walking the planet than Keith Olberman? If you open the dictionary and look under ‘smarmy’ not only is his picture there, but a complete biography. I only had to listen for ten seconds and see his smug puss and I instanly got irritable bowel syndrome. This guy was the model for the Democratic Donkey symbol because he’s the world’s biggest ass. Later on that evening I was flipping through the channels and I clicked on Bill O’Reilly, Keith’s uber nemisis. If Olberman is an ass, this guy is the shit that comes out of the GOP’s elephants ass. I watched him ‘interview’ Obama, which is to say he grandstanded for the entire segment without letting the guy answer a question. He’d ask him a question and then proceed to a) answer it himself with a paragraph of witless dung or b) ridicule the guy’s answer with constant interuptions. Hey O’Reilly, shut your cake hole for 10 seconds and let the guy talk!
These two are the equivalent of shutting two mortal enemies in a locked small space after they’ve had 5 beef and pinto burrito combo plates and the dude who rips the loudest and the most foul wins, and the whole affair is televised. Hey, if it looks, smells, tastes and sounds like shit, guess what, IT’S SHIT!! Why don’t you two morons just go away? Take your crapola and go duke it out on Celebrity Boxing, we’re all sick of your juvenile shenanegans. Yeah, Keith and Bill are going to tell me how to vote. In the spirit of Denis Leary, Hey Keith and Bill, I got two words for you, Walter Friggen Cronkite!
When I was growing up we had Walter Cronkite, Howard Smith and Harry Reasoner. Walter was like your granpa, he’d sit you on his knee and told you how it was whether you liked it or not. Howard Smith looked like he stayed out all night at the local watering hole, slept in his suit and woke up 15 minutes before the news. Harry Reasoner was the old bastard who just didn’t give a shit, perhaps maybe wink a few times like he knew something you didn’t but wasn’t going to tell you anyway. He looked like the kind of guy that would just a soon say “Have a nice day!” with all the sincerity he could muster and then mumble curse words as you walked away. I have no idea what political preferences these men had. Because they didn’t let it slip on national TV. To them, their personal views had nothing to do with the news. Welcome to objectivity at the tail end of journalistic integrity.
For the uninitiated, journalism used to be all about being objective. Even when I was a young pup with no interest in being a journalist, yet still enrolled in a journalism major, it was hammered in our heads from day one to fight the natural urge to paint anything with your own own opinion. Now days, it’s anything but. Not only that, those chowderheads you see on the TV positively revel in their own sanctimonious horse manure. They have absolutely no patience with anything that is outside of their own vacuous viewpoint. I would be saying thank God this election will be over by tomorrow and we can all get on with our lives, but I know when I switch on the telly tomorrow, these twits will be back at the desk telling me the ‘real’ story behind political topic ‘X.’ I say blow it all out of you asses, I gotta get through season one of ‘Lost,’ and I could give a pinch of shit what you say. I’d rather watch Billy Mays shout his way throught the days events behind a desk than listen to another second of your self-righteous gas.
Switch it off folks. There’s too many good books and a load of great music to listen to. You don’t have to go through life listening to morons. Unless you are one.
I was helping an audio/visually challenged friend last night put in a new DVD player. After about 10 minutes of pulling wires and re-plugging them back in I popped on the TV just to make sure it worked. Of course it worked, I’m an audio/visual equipment genius. In to the cable box, out to the TV, out of the DVD player, into the TV. Hey, I didn’t spend 10 years in graduate school for nothing.
Anyway, the TV comes on and who but Keith Olberman comes on. Is there a more gaping assclown walking the planet than Keith Olberman? If you open the dictionary and look under ‘smarmy’ not only is his picture there, but a complete biography. I only had to listen for ten seconds and see his smug puss and I instanly got irritable bowel syndrome. This guy was the model for the Democratic Donkey symbol because he’s the world’s biggest ass. Later on that evening I was flipping through the channels and I clicked on Bill O’Reilly, Keith’s uber nemisis. If Olberman is an ass, this guy is the shit that comes out of the GOP’s elephants ass. I watched him ‘interview’ Obama, which is to say he grandstanded for the entire segment without letting the guy answer a question. He’d ask him a question and then proceed to a) answer it himself with a paragraph of witless dung or b) ridicule the guy’s answer with constant interuptions. Hey O’Reilly, shut your cake hole for 10 seconds and let the guy talk!
These two are the equivalent of shutting two mortal enemies in a locked small space after they’ve had 5 beef and pinto burrito combo plates and the dude who rips the loudest and the most foul wins, and the whole affair is televised. Hey, if it looks, smells, tastes and sounds like shit, guess what, IT’S SHIT!! Why don’t you two morons just go away? Take your crapola and go duke it out on Celebrity Boxing, we’re all sick of your juvenile shenanegans. Yeah, Keith and Bill are going to tell me how to vote. In the spirit of Denis Leary, Hey Keith and Bill, I got two words for you, Walter Friggen Cronkite!
When I was growing up we had Walter Cronkite, Howard Smith and Harry Reasoner. Walter was like your granpa, he’d sit you on his knee and told you how it was whether you liked it or not. Howard Smith looked like he stayed out all night at the local watering hole, slept in his suit and woke up 15 minutes before the news. Harry Reasoner was the old bastard who just didn’t give a shit, perhaps maybe wink a few times like he knew something you didn’t but wasn’t going to tell you anyway. He looked like the kind of guy that would just a soon say “Have a nice day!” with all the sincerity he could muster and then mumble curse words as you walked away. I have no idea what political preferences these men had. Because they didn’t let it slip on national TV. To them, their personal views had nothing to do with the news. Welcome to objectivity at the tail end of journalistic integrity.
For the uninitiated, journalism used to be all about being objective. Even when I was a young pup with no interest in being a journalist, yet still enrolled in a journalism major, it was hammered in our heads from day one to fight the natural urge to paint anything with your own own opinion. Now days, it’s anything but. Not only that, those chowderheads you see on the TV positively revel in their own sanctimonious horse manure. They have absolutely no patience with anything that is outside of their own vacuous viewpoint. I would be saying thank God this election will be over by tomorrow and we can all get on with our lives, but I know when I switch on the telly tomorrow, these twits will be back at the desk telling me the ‘real’ story behind political topic ‘X.’ I say blow it all out of you asses, I gotta get through season one of ‘Lost,’ and I could give a pinch of shit what you say. I’d rather watch Billy Mays shout his way throught the days events behind a desk than listen to another second of your self-righteous gas.
Switch it off folks. There’s too many good books and a load of great music to listen to. You don’t have to go through life listening to morons. Unless you are one.
Monday, October 27, 2008
Indiana Jones and The Producer Who Worships Satan
A couple of weeks ago I read about a scandalous South Park episode where Spielberg and George Lucas rape Indiana Jones. The usual people were screaming about how inappropriate the whole thing was – people who obviously have no idea what the premise of South Park is. South Park’s responsibility is to piss on everything like a drunken yard cat and hopefully make a few yuks along the way. I’m not a regular viewer but I did see the movie and the ‘Shit’ episode a few years back. I laughed so hard milk came out of my nose and I hadn’t had any milk in a few weeks.
Dairy consumption aside, last night I popped in the DVD and took a gander at the new Indiana Jones movie.
They friggen ruined it. South Park couldn’t be more right than Brooks Robinson diving for a one hopper down the line.
It’s another installment in the George Lucas encyclopedia entitled, “Everyone on Planet Earth, Give Me Money and then Go To Hell.” Same character, same soundtrack, same fedora, different emotions from the viewer. This time instead of being entertained, there was rage. I expect this kind of schlock from Lucas, but I expect more from the likes of Harrison Ford and Steven Spielberg. They should have treated Lucas like grandpa who keeps repeating the same questions at Thanksgiving dinner. I mean, be polite, and then do a family meeting while he’s sleeping off his cranberry/mashed potato haze to try to figure out what you’re going to do with the old bastard. Spielberg might have been behind the lens, but Lucas was the one mooned us all. Just slap the “Indiana Jones and the. . . (fill in the blank) moniker on it and watch the crowds line up.
They had a great cast too, Cate Blanchett, Shia LeBeof, Roy Winstone, John Hurt, Jim Broadbent, and Karen Allen (who still has that naughty tomboy next door look) but Lucas pissed it all away on special FX and stupid plot holes that even Ed Wood thought needed work. I mean even M. Night Shaymalan thought this was flimsy.
Admittedly, the title got me to buy the movie. I haven’t darkened a movie theater’s door lately, and if I had spent money on this at the theater, there’s no way I would have bought the DVD. I read a lot of movie reviews on line and there was just enough positive ones to make me believe that it couldn’t be that bad, I mean Harrison Ford hasn’t done a whole lot of crap in his career, how bad can it be?
Ya see, they can’t just make one good movie and let it be. They can’t just make one Pirates of the Caribbean, they have to make two shitty sequels. They can’t just make one Matrix and leave it alone, they have to F’ everything up and make two shitty sequels. There’s no way to stop at three Star Wars movies that were pretty good, they have to bend us over for three crappy prequels. Jurassic Park has to have more than one angle, so let’s make four. Hell even Jaws has numerous sequels. Rocky, Rambo, The Terminator, Xmen, Batman, Spiderman, all of those freakin summer blockbusters have just gotta keep coming back for your wallet. Kevin Smith can’t just make one movie with dick and fart jokes, he has to make them all with dick and fart jokes. Wait, . . . I like Kevin Smith movies, never mind.
Complaining that you’re being ripped off is an insult to pyramid schemes, Nigerian Prince e-mails and telemarketers. But somehow we’re all sucked in by the characters and the gran mal seizures we get when they announce the making of the sequels. We actually want to be ripped off. The producers know they have a built in audience that will happily fork over the dough for whatever franchise they’re working on for theater tickets, DVD’s, videogames, action figures and boxes of Duds that are made with milk.
George Lucas, you’re a bad person, you can kiss my ass and go to hell. Parker and Stone were right to show you for what you really are.
By the way, I’m still waiting for the ‘Willow’ prequel and sequel.
Dairy consumption aside, last night I popped in the DVD and took a gander at the new Indiana Jones movie.
They friggen ruined it. South Park couldn’t be more right than Brooks Robinson diving for a one hopper down the line.
It’s another installment in the George Lucas encyclopedia entitled, “Everyone on Planet Earth, Give Me Money and then Go To Hell.” Same character, same soundtrack, same fedora, different emotions from the viewer. This time instead of being entertained, there was rage. I expect this kind of schlock from Lucas, but I expect more from the likes of Harrison Ford and Steven Spielberg. They should have treated Lucas like grandpa who keeps repeating the same questions at Thanksgiving dinner. I mean, be polite, and then do a family meeting while he’s sleeping off his cranberry/mashed potato haze to try to figure out what you’re going to do with the old bastard. Spielberg might have been behind the lens, but Lucas was the one mooned us all. Just slap the “Indiana Jones and the. . . (fill in the blank) moniker on it and watch the crowds line up.
They had a great cast too, Cate Blanchett, Shia LeBeof, Roy Winstone, John Hurt, Jim Broadbent, and Karen Allen (who still has that naughty tomboy next door look) but Lucas pissed it all away on special FX and stupid plot holes that even Ed Wood thought needed work. I mean even M. Night Shaymalan thought this was flimsy.
Admittedly, the title got me to buy the movie. I haven’t darkened a movie theater’s door lately, and if I had spent money on this at the theater, there’s no way I would have bought the DVD. I read a lot of movie reviews on line and there was just enough positive ones to make me believe that it couldn’t be that bad, I mean Harrison Ford hasn’t done a whole lot of crap in his career, how bad can it be?
Ya see, they can’t just make one good movie and let it be. They can’t just make one Pirates of the Caribbean, they have to make two shitty sequels. They can’t just make one Matrix and leave it alone, they have to F’ everything up and make two shitty sequels. There’s no way to stop at three Star Wars movies that were pretty good, they have to bend us over for three crappy prequels. Jurassic Park has to have more than one angle, so let’s make four. Hell even Jaws has numerous sequels. Rocky, Rambo, The Terminator, Xmen, Batman, Spiderman, all of those freakin summer blockbusters have just gotta keep coming back for your wallet. Kevin Smith can’t just make one movie with dick and fart jokes, he has to make them all with dick and fart jokes. Wait, . . . I like Kevin Smith movies, never mind.
Complaining that you’re being ripped off is an insult to pyramid schemes, Nigerian Prince e-mails and telemarketers. But somehow we’re all sucked in by the characters and the gran mal seizures we get when they announce the making of the sequels. We actually want to be ripped off. The producers know they have a built in audience that will happily fork over the dough for whatever franchise they’re working on for theater tickets, DVD’s, videogames, action figures and boxes of Duds that are made with milk.
George Lucas, you’re a bad person, you can kiss my ass and go to hell. Parker and Stone were right to show you for what you really are.
By the way, I’m still waiting for the ‘Willow’ prequel and sequel.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
My Top 11 Albums
I have to begin this with saying this really isn’t easy for me. I could take this about 10 different ways, like top ten in real-world importance, top ten now as opposed to high school or college, or break it down into 70’s, 80’s etc. And I have so many albums that are important to me in ways that I have a hard time explaining. Like some dreck from the 80’s that was popular then but nobody gives a hoo-haa about now, but I think it has value.
I take my music seriously, always have. One of my all time favorite things to do when I’m driving home is to pop in one of my CD’s I’ve made from my iTunes list and sing along. Yeah, I look like a dork to other drivers and I can’t hold a tune to save my life, but I’m still awesome.
I’ve already written two paragraphs and already I sound like a pretentious a-hole. Besides, who really reads everyone’s blog? Who cares what we, the faceless masses, like or dislike. Well it’s my blog so I’m going to do it anyway. And I’m going to approach this with an “important moment in time slash favorite” bent to it. Ready? Here goes:
11. The Beatles: Love
It’s the newest release on the list with the oldest songs. One day at work we were testing out our new JBL monitors in the studio and a friend of mine popped this into the CD player. I had heard some stuff about it on the Internet, but since I had all of the Beatles catalog firmly planted in my brain at an early age, I pretty much yawned when I read about it. But listening to it in that crystal clear environment gave me goose bumps. The album opens up with ‘Because.’ My friends, if you aren’t awestruck after listening to that, wait a few songs and listen to ‘Elanor Rigby’ again with new ears. The band’s longtime producer George Martin had been commissioned by Cirque De Soleil to come up with some new Beatles mixes. The result is mind-bending and completely satisfying. The Beatles with new technology and thoughtful re-mixes and a few surprises thrown in. I fell in love all over again with the mop-tops. Ringo in ‘Octopus’s Garden is priceless, McCartney shows some serious soul when they strip ‘Hey Jude’ of instruments and let us listen in to just the voices, George never sounded better in ‘Here Comes the Sun,’ and John lets it rip in ‘Back in the USSR,’ and is positively psychedelic in ‘Strawberry Fields Forever.’ This CD was lodged in my player for about a month, I just couldn’t get enough.
10. The Nightfly – Donald Fagen
This was probably my favorite album when I was a freshman in college. Every song just drips with talent, studio expertise and jazzy fusion. Fagen is one of the halves of Steely Dan, which I had grown to love in high school. I seriously entertained thoughts that I was a musical snob because this was my new favorite album. The title track is about a lonely DJ, taking calls, smoking and spinning discs as he remembers a past love. I had already had a couple of DJ stints under my belt by that time so I could definitely identify what he was talking about. Many critics considered this to be one of the best jazz fusion albums ever, I’m not sure what that means but every song is worth the listen and the production value is damn near off the chart.
9. Who’s Next – The Who
This album cemented my love affair with the Who. Tommy was the album that started it. Granted, by the time I graduated high school, these guys were on their ‘Farewell’ tour (snicker snicker) so I caught on late. But there really isn’t much explanation I could give this album that hasn’t already been said. The best pseudo-ballad, angry, beat someone with a hot poker song ‘Behind Blue Eyes’ has always been one of my favorites because you can hear Daltry’s seemingly sensitive side at the beginning of the song and his ‘I’m going to tear your head off with my bare hands’ growl toward the end. ‘Won’t Get Fooled Again’ is responsible for more sore and hoarse throat problems with me as I sometimes try to match the earth shattering ‘YEE-AAAHHH’ at the end. Every song is damn near perfect.
8. Good Bye Yellow Brick Road – Elton John
OK, Elton is a fat old queen these days who can’t keep his hissy mouth shut. I don’t know if it’s drugs or too much man-ass, but I wished he would just go away. I want to say he’s a disgrace, but I guess if I had people kissing my ass 24-7 I’d probably be pink scarved mess too. But back in the day, Elton could absolutely do no friggen wrong. Everything he put out was just gobbled up by all of us. Or at least me. And nothing was better than GBYBR and it’s companion album ‘Captain Fantastic and the Brown Dirt Cowboy.’ I listed GBYBR here because I think I went through about 4 vinyl albums before I got the CD. I don’t know if it was the end of 70’s glam, the weird poetry, his Brit sassyness or what, but I played this record endlessly. I hooked up with 7th grade band because my ambition was to learn the drum part to ‘Love Lies Bleeding.’ Which I did, then promptly quit the band. It is a terrific double album from a guy at the top of his game and there are underappreciated gems dotted throughout the piece. ‘Harmony,’ ‘I’ve Seen That Movie Too,’ ‘Roy Rogers,’ and ‘This Song Has No Title’ are among the best songs he’s ever done but you’ve never heard, in my opinion. There’s great music and great fun on this album.
7. Texas Flood – Stevie Ray Vaughn
One of my fondest memories of college was when my roommate at the time George Warner introduced me to the blues. And Texas Flood was my first introduction to Stevie. We’d spend hours in our dorm room playing cards and another board game – Pente, with Stevie, old ZZ Top and Lonnie Mack playing in the background. Texas Flood was Stevie’s first album apart from his musical patron David Bowie. Imagine Stevie Ray Vaughn playing guitar on a David Bowie album (I think it was ‘Let’s Dance) That thought is like squirting Tobasco on your ice cream, it just doesn’t work. Texas Flood is just a masterpiece of Stevie’s virtuosity on the guitar. He can blow you away with ‘Pride and Joy’ or slow it all down with ‘Lenny.’ I actually got to see Stevie at the Omaha Civic back in the day. He was obviously having some problems with his pedals that night as he tried to go to different riffs and hit the pedal, it wouldn’t change the sound. But overall it was a magical experience. One of the stupidest things I’ve ever done was to choose studying for a test, and giving away my tickets to see Stevie at the Zoo bar (this was before he made it big.) Stupid, stupid, stoooopid.
6. The Wall/Darkside of the Moon – Pink Floyd
Ok, I’ve comboed these two up and cheated a bit, but I discovered the Floyd with these two at the same time. Keep in mind, my mojo at the time was soul flavored with heavy doses of Earth Wind and Fire and the Commodores, so Floyd wasn’t exactly my bag. But again, my roommate George turned me on to them. And it all started with a viewing of the movie ‘The Wall.’ The first time I saw it, I really wasn’t impressed. But I got the vinyl record, along with the Dark Side the next day anyway and they totally blew me away. One critic described the Wall in this way – “I don’t know if it’s any good, but it’s terribly compelling.” Exactly. To me it’s a perfect album, each note and verse thoughtfully and carefully placed to advance the concept. Dark Side of the Moon is, well, the Dark Side of the Moon. If you haven’t heard at least a part of it, you’re living a sad, dull life. It should be required listening if you have even a passing interest in music. It defined an era in Album Oriented Rock – an FM radio format that just totally rocked. I was hooked from the first play. I had two chances to see the latter day version of the Floyd and had to turn them down because the concert dates coincided with the due dates of my first two children. Damn!
5. The Completion Backwards Principle – The Tubes
The Tubes were as close as I got to the punk movement in the late 70’s and 80’s. Why? Well frankly they made me laugh and this album was a technical and musical masterpiece. They also were pioneers of making video pieces to complement their music. They were a bunch of goofy guys whose concerts were legendary for debauchery and yet on this album the showed up in three piece suits and had business descriptions for each member on the back. This was a complete album with no clinkers at all. ‘Sushi Girl,’ ‘Talk to Ya Later,’ ‘Mr. Hate,’ and ‘Attack of the 50 foot Woman’ are all highlights here. Talk about concert disappointments, I had tickets to see these guys in Omaha twice and both were canceled due to poor ticket sales. Q#$%!#$! Their next effort ‘Outside Inside,’ was also awesome, but this one was their zenith.
4. Vitology – Pearl Jam
I could probably list most of Pearl Jam’s catalog, but Vitology is definitely my favorite. It’s practically the soundtrack of the saddest period of my life when I was going through my divorce. Hearing those songs over again brings back powerful feelings in me, especially ‘Not for You,’ and ‘Corduroy.’ Also highlighted here is ‘Better Man,’ and ‘Satan’s Bed.’ Pearl Jam cemented it’s place in my list of all time favorite bands with this album and I’ve been a loyal fan ever since, gobbling up at least 2 of their numerous off the shelf concert CD’s hastily produced after a concert is played. I trust them and so far they haven’t disappointed me. Eddie’s voice is just so bitchin! Paired up with thoughtful lyrics and a band that absolutely kicks ass, I hope they just keep playing forever. And I don’t even really give a shit about their tree hugging politics, I just love their music.
3. Permanent Waves – Rush
Again, I could list quite a number of Rush albums from their early period here. But Permanent Waves holds a special place in my heart because of what it represented to me at the time. Moving Pictures is probably the best Rush album in my opinion, but what broke everything open for me was Permanent Waves. At the time I was listening to virtually one genre of music – Contemporary Christian Rock. UGGGHH! When I think about it I want to gag. If you don’t know, it’s basically watered down Top 40 with spiritual lyrics masquerading as being ‘acceptable,’ to the folks who listened to it and people I hung around. I was so disillusioned with the whole concept at the time of listening to that crap. Then I heard ‘Spirit of Radio’ on my local FM station and it hit me like a lightning bolt. The next day I purchased Permanent Waves and rocked my ass off. I caused a bit of a dustup with my roommates at the time who thought I was going to burn in hell for listening to rock music, but I didn’t care what they thought. My way of thinking had been changed. I could actually listen to something good for a change. Rush, Floyd, Eric Clapton, Stevie Ray Vaughn soon followed. At one time I could tell you who the top 5 Christian acts were, now I really could care less. And I personally think it’s no affront to God. I’ve seen Rush on tour no less than 5 times and those guys just rock – plain and simple. If you haven’t seen Rush in Rio, you’re missing out. They’re old as hell now but they know how to please a crowd.
2. The Colour and The Shape – Foo Fighters
Springing from the ashes of the Nirvana legend, Dave Grohl fashioned a new band. The first album received critical and popular acclaim. But Colour and Shape is again, a perfect album. I don’t think I’ve ever been mesmerized by an album like I was with this one (except for number one on this list) I got it before a long trip to my parents (14 hour drive) and I don’t think I listened to anything else on the entire trip up or back. The concept of the album is ubiquitous, the break-up, make-up and break-up again of a relationship. The album is thoughtful, sad, funny and insightful to modern relationships and I love it completely. Not to mention the fierceness of the music itself. The band lets it rip in several places and I find myself trying to keep up with Grohl’s singing but it’s nearly impossible without tearing your vocal cords in a few places. I challenged my son to sing the final verse of Monkey Wrench along with Grohl, he’s an accomplished singer, he couldn’t do it. I think there’s some editing involved, because no mortal could scream at the top of his lungs continuously for a single sentence lasting roughly three paragraphs long. This album just kicks so much ass it’s impossible to count the ass-less people left in its wake. I highly recommend it to anyone who wants to rock.
1. All-N-All – Earth Wind And Fire
My freshman year in high school I was all about soul music. I loved the Commodores, LTD, the Jacksons, The Ohio Players, Stevie Wonder et al, but Earth Wind and Fire were/are my all time favorites. Please restrain your giggle reflex on this next sentence, I first listened to All-N-all on an 8 track. HEE HEE HAW HAW, blow it out your ass I’m old.
Ok, so I’m old, whatever. Earth Wind and Fire made great music and I fell in love with those guys with this album. In terms of funky soul, awesome horns, and percussion, there isn’t anything better out there. This album was and is the shit when it came to combining all of that to make awesome music. Maurice White is a friggen genius, and his brother Verdine is a master on the bass. The Phoenix Horns rule and Philip Bailey’s falsetto could shatter glass. My concert failures began with EWF as I had tickets to see the show, and permission from my folks, but Maurice came down with the flu and they had to cancel, shattering my star-struck dreams of seeing their total domination and awesomeness live before my adolescent teeny bopper eyes. They never came back either. But this album is cherished by me to this day and you could probably lay it on my chest as they lower me into the ground. I’ll have a smile on my face, that’s for sure.
Honorable Mention - Tenacious D
I take my music seriously, always have. One of my all time favorite things to do when I’m driving home is to pop in one of my CD’s I’ve made from my iTunes list and sing along. Yeah, I look like a dork to other drivers and I can’t hold a tune to save my life, but I’m still awesome.
I’ve already written two paragraphs and already I sound like a pretentious a-hole. Besides, who really reads everyone’s blog? Who cares what we, the faceless masses, like or dislike. Well it’s my blog so I’m going to do it anyway. And I’m going to approach this with an “important moment in time slash favorite” bent to it. Ready? Here goes:
11. The Beatles: Love
It’s the newest release on the list with the oldest songs. One day at work we were testing out our new JBL monitors in the studio and a friend of mine popped this into the CD player. I had heard some stuff about it on the Internet, but since I had all of the Beatles catalog firmly planted in my brain at an early age, I pretty much yawned when I read about it. But listening to it in that crystal clear environment gave me goose bumps. The album opens up with ‘Because.’ My friends, if you aren’t awestruck after listening to that, wait a few songs and listen to ‘Elanor Rigby’ again with new ears. The band’s longtime producer George Martin had been commissioned by Cirque De Soleil to come up with some new Beatles mixes. The result is mind-bending and completely satisfying. The Beatles with new technology and thoughtful re-mixes and a few surprises thrown in. I fell in love all over again with the mop-tops. Ringo in ‘Octopus’s Garden is priceless, McCartney shows some serious soul when they strip ‘Hey Jude’ of instruments and let us listen in to just the voices, George never sounded better in ‘Here Comes the Sun,’ and John lets it rip in ‘Back in the USSR,’ and is positively psychedelic in ‘Strawberry Fields Forever.’ This CD was lodged in my player for about a month, I just couldn’t get enough.
10. The Nightfly – Donald Fagen
This was probably my favorite album when I was a freshman in college. Every song just drips with talent, studio expertise and jazzy fusion. Fagen is one of the halves of Steely Dan, which I had grown to love in high school. I seriously entertained thoughts that I was a musical snob because this was my new favorite album. The title track is about a lonely DJ, taking calls, smoking and spinning discs as he remembers a past love. I had already had a couple of DJ stints under my belt by that time so I could definitely identify what he was talking about. Many critics considered this to be one of the best jazz fusion albums ever, I’m not sure what that means but every song is worth the listen and the production value is damn near off the chart.
9. Who’s Next – The Who
This album cemented my love affair with the Who. Tommy was the album that started it. Granted, by the time I graduated high school, these guys were on their ‘Farewell’ tour (snicker snicker) so I caught on late. But there really isn’t much explanation I could give this album that hasn’t already been said. The best pseudo-ballad, angry, beat someone with a hot poker song ‘Behind Blue Eyes’ has always been one of my favorites because you can hear Daltry’s seemingly sensitive side at the beginning of the song and his ‘I’m going to tear your head off with my bare hands’ growl toward the end. ‘Won’t Get Fooled Again’ is responsible for more sore and hoarse throat problems with me as I sometimes try to match the earth shattering ‘YEE-AAAHHH’ at the end. Every song is damn near perfect.
8. Good Bye Yellow Brick Road – Elton John
OK, Elton is a fat old queen these days who can’t keep his hissy mouth shut. I don’t know if it’s drugs or too much man-ass, but I wished he would just go away. I want to say he’s a disgrace, but I guess if I had people kissing my ass 24-7 I’d probably be pink scarved mess too. But back in the day, Elton could absolutely do no friggen wrong. Everything he put out was just gobbled up by all of us. Or at least me. And nothing was better than GBYBR and it’s companion album ‘Captain Fantastic and the Brown Dirt Cowboy.’ I listed GBYBR here because I think I went through about 4 vinyl albums before I got the CD. I don’t know if it was the end of 70’s glam, the weird poetry, his Brit sassyness or what, but I played this record endlessly. I hooked up with 7th grade band because my ambition was to learn the drum part to ‘Love Lies Bleeding.’ Which I did, then promptly quit the band. It is a terrific double album from a guy at the top of his game and there are underappreciated gems dotted throughout the piece. ‘Harmony,’ ‘I’ve Seen That Movie Too,’ ‘Roy Rogers,’ and ‘This Song Has No Title’ are among the best songs he’s ever done but you’ve never heard, in my opinion. There’s great music and great fun on this album.
7. Texas Flood – Stevie Ray Vaughn
One of my fondest memories of college was when my roommate at the time George Warner introduced me to the blues. And Texas Flood was my first introduction to Stevie. We’d spend hours in our dorm room playing cards and another board game – Pente, with Stevie, old ZZ Top and Lonnie Mack playing in the background. Texas Flood was Stevie’s first album apart from his musical patron David Bowie. Imagine Stevie Ray Vaughn playing guitar on a David Bowie album (I think it was ‘Let’s Dance) That thought is like squirting Tobasco on your ice cream, it just doesn’t work. Texas Flood is just a masterpiece of Stevie’s virtuosity on the guitar. He can blow you away with ‘Pride and Joy’ or slow it all down with ‘Lenny.’ I actually got to see Stevie at the Omaha Civic back in the day. He was obviously having some problems with his pedals that night as he tried to go to different riffs and hit the pedal, it wouldn’t change the sound. But overall it was a magical experience. One of the stupidest things I’ve ever done was to choose studying for a test, and giving away my tickets to see Stevie at the Zoo bar (this was before he made it big.) Stupid, stupid, stoooopid.
6. The Wall/Darkside of the Moon – Pink Floyd
Ok, I’ve comboed these two up and cheated a bit, but I discovered the Floyd with these two at the same time. Keep in mind, my mojo at the time was soul flavored with heavy doses of Earth Wind and Fire and the Commodores, so Floyd wasn’t exactly my bag. But again, my roommate George turned me on to them. And it all started with a viewing of the movie ‘The Wall.’ The first time I saw it, I really wasn’t impressed. But I got the vinyl record, along with the Dark Side the next day anyway and they totally blew me away. One critic described the Wall in this way – “I don’t know if it’s any good, but it’s terribly compelling.” Exactly. To me it’s a perfect album, each note and verse thoughtfully and carefully placed to advance the concept. Dark Side of the Moon is, well, the Dark Side of the Moon. If you haven’t heard at least a part of it, you’re living a sad, dull life. It should be required listening if you have even a passing interest in music. It defined an era in Album Oriented Rock – an FM radio format that just totally rocked. I was hooked from the first play. I had two chances to see the latter day version of the Floyd and had to turn them down because the concert dates coincided with the due dates of my first two children. Damn!
5. The Completion Backwards Principle – The Tubes
The Tubes were as close as I got to the punk movement in the late 70’s and 80’s. Why? Well frankly they made me laugh and this album was a technical and musical masterpiece. They also were pioneers of making video pieces to complement their music. They were a bunch of goofy guys whose concerts were legendary for debauchery and yet on this album the showed up in three piece suits and had business descriptions for each member on the back. This was a complete album with no clinkers at all. ‘Sushi Girl,’ ‘Talk to Ya Later,’ ‘Mr. Hate,’ and ‘Attack of the 50 foot Woman’ are all highlights here. Talk about concert disappointments, I had tickets to see these guys in Omaha twice and both were canceled due to poor ticket sales. Q#$%!#$! Their next effort ‘Outside Inside,’ was also awesome, but this one was their zenith.
4. Vitology – Pearl Jam
I could probably list most of Pearl Jam’s catalog, but Vitology is definitely my favorite. It’s practically the soundtrack of the saddest period of my life when I was going through my divorce. Hearing those songs over again brings back powerful feelings in me, especially ‘Not for You,’ and ‘Corduroy.’ Also highlighted here is ‘Better Man,’ and ‘Satan’s Bed.’ Pearl Jam cemented it’s place in my list of all time favorite bands with this album and I’ve been a loyal fan ever since, gobbling up at least 2 of their numerous off the shelf concert CD’s hastily produced after a concert is played. I trust them and so far they haven’t disappointed me. Eddie’s voice is just so bitchin! Paired up with thoughtful lyrics and a band that absolutely kicks ass, I hope they just keep playing forever. And I don’t even really give a shit about their tree hugging politics, I just love their music.
3. Permanent Waves – Rush
Again, I could list quite a number of Rush albums from their early period here. But Permanent Waves holds a special place in my heart because of what it represented to me at the time. Moving Pictures is probably the best Rush album in my opinion, but what broke everything open for me was Permanent Waves. At the time I was listening to virtually one genre of music – Contemporary Christian Rock. UGGGHH! When I think about it I want to gag. If you don’t know, it’s basically watered down Top 40 with spiritual lyrics masquerading as being ‘acceptable,’ to the folks who listened to it and people I hung around. I was so disillusioned with the whole concept at the time of listening to that crap. Then I heard ‘Spirit of Radio’ on my local FM station and it hit me like a lightning bolt. The next day I purchased Permanent Waves and rocked my ass off. I caused a bit of a dustup with my roommates at the time who thought I was going to burn in hell for listening to rock music, but I didn’t care what they thought. My way of thinking had been changed. I could actually listen to something good for a change. Rush, Floyd, Eric Clapton, Stevie Ray Vaughn soon followed. At one time I could tell you who the top 5 Christian acts were, now I really could care less. And I personally think it’s no affront to God. I’ve seen Rush on tour no less than 5 times and those guys just rock – plain and simple. If you haven’t seen Rush in Rio, you’re missing out. They’re old as hell now but they know how to please a crowd.
2. The Colour and The Shape – Foo Fighters
Springing from the ashes of the Nirvana legend, Dave Grohl fashioned a new band. The first album received critical and popular acclaim. But Colour and Shape is again, a perfect album. I don’t think I’ve ever been mesmerized by an album like I was with this one (except for number one on this list) I got it before a long trip to my parents (14 hour drive) and I don’t think I listened to anything else on the entire trip up or back. The concept of the album is ubiquitous, the break-up, make-up and break-up again of a relationship. The album is thoughtful, sad, funny and insightful to modern relationships and I love it completely. Not to mention the fierceness of the music itself. The band lets it rip in several places and I find myself trying to keep up with Grohl’s singing but it’s nearly impossible without tearing your vocal cords in a few places. I challenged my son to sing the final verse of Monkey Wrench along with Grohl, he’s an accomplished singer, he couldn’t do it. I think there’s some editing involved, because no mortal could scream at the top of his lungs continuously for a single sentence lasting roughly three paragraphs long. This album just kicks so much ass it’s impossible to count the ass-less people left in its wake. I highly recommend it to anyone who wants to rock.
1. All-N-All – Earth Wind And Fire
My freshman year in high school I was all about soul music. I loved the Commodores, LTD, the Jacksons, The Ohio Players, Stevie Wonder et al, but Earth Wind and Fire were/are my all time favorites. Please restrain your giggle reflex on this next sentence, I first listened to All-N-all on an 8 track. HEE HEE HAW HAW, blow it out your ass I’m old.
Ok, so I’m old, whatever. Earth Wind and Fire made great music and I fell in love with those guys with this album. In terms of funky soul, awesome horns, and percussion, there isn’t anything better out there. This album was and is the shit when it came to combining all of that to make awesome music. Maurice White is a friggen genius, and his brother Verdine is a master on the bass. The Phoenix Horns rule and Philip Bailey’s falsetto could shatter glass. My concert failures began with EWF as I had tickets to see the show, and permission from my folks, but Maurice came down with the flu and they had to cancel, shattering my star-struck dreams of seeing their total domination and awesomeness live before my adolescent teeny bopper eyes. They never came back either. But this album is cherished by me to this day and you could probably lay it on my chest as they lower me into the ground. I’ll have a smile on my face, that’s for sure.
Honorable Mention - Tenacious D
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