Saturday, March 31, 2007

The 60's girl group is back

Of all the magical musical acts coming out of the UK right now, quite possibly the most impressive to me has been Amy Winehouse, fighting out of the wilds of north London. She’s mad talented with a voice that makes her sound like she just woke up from a two-year nap. And even more impressive, she got these two geniuses behind the boards to produce this thing and make it sound like Phil Spector himself recorded it in 1962. The sound is positively fantastic. So good you can smell it. It makes you want to have a highball while you listen to it on the hi-fi in your wood-paneled den. And look at her! She makes that Norah Jones look like a choir girl.

Better yet she’s a little bit messed up and apparently has a wee bit of a drinking problem and routinely falls off stages, suffering bodily harm, and apparently she even threw up mid-song during one performance. Her album, appropriatly, is called "Rehab", as is the title cut:

This one’s gonna be fun to watch. And listen to of course.

Friday, March 30, 2007

The west is the best, get here and we'll do the rest


As you may have been able to gather from my recent travels, I got the job I'd been trying so hard to get and I’m moving to LA in about two weeks. I start the 23rd. This ship is sailing west and I’m afraid it won’t be back. It’s a big move but one I’ve been wanting to make for about two years now. Maybe I've always wanted to. I remember seeing "The Doors" in 1991 (opening night, of course) and thinking how cool it all looked there but these things take time. And now it’s finally happening.

The elation of a couple days ago has kind of morphed itself into more of a “holy crap, I’ve got a lot to take care of.” I’ve been meaning to post something about this whole thing but of course wanted to let my current gig know and of course let my friends know. I suppose this is the first big news I’ve broken on this thing so this is all quite new to me.

Most importantly, I couldn’t be more excited.

I'm gonna go listen to the Doors. And the Peppers. And Beck. And BJM. And the Silversun Pickups. And Cold War Kids. And Pavement.

Thursday, March 29, 2007

Other things the Kings of Leon are kings of


Stellar guitar work

Killer vocals

Looking totally awesome

Having cool-ass hair

Making preachers' kids seem really cool

Being arguably the coolest thing to come out of Tennessee since Elvis and Johnny

Writing prolly the best song ever written about getting knocked up, the seven minute “Knocked Up.” And an incredible album opener to boot. “I don’t care what nobody says, I’m gonna be her lover, always mad and usually drunk but I love her like no other.”

Writing frikkin’ great songs about rotten women and fast cars and too much partying and love gone sour and knocked up girls

Making me think to myself “jeezers how are these guys like 24 years old?”

Making me love the south and, well, helping me realize I’m gonna miss it when I’m gone. At least parts of it, namely them and the Drive-By Truckers.

Outdoing the brilliance of “Aha Shake Heartbreak”, no small feat there

Releasing yet another great album, “Because of the Times”, in a spring that seems to be overflowing at the eaves with them. Lord have mercy. I’m gonna need another set of ears.

Wednesday, March 28, 2007

How can we be so naive?


A conversation Justin and I have had just about one too many times:

ME: How many chickens you think we got this time?

JUSTIN: I don't know? Shouldn't we wait until they're hatched?

ME: No let's count them now. Dude, we got this one locked up!

JUSTIN: Yeah, surely we got one this time.

ME: Totally, dude!


And yet our chickens die every time. So folks, konichiwa and goodnight.

The universal

Now that I've somewhat recovered from my red-eyed morning I have to say this past weekend was really fun. Well worth the hassle of getting there and back, without a doubt.



Tuesday, March 27, 2007

Well that just about sucked

(Yeah, this one's got a few f-bombs in it, so be forewarned. Sorry about that.)

Kids, if you walk away from this little blog with one piece of advice, make it this:

Don’t fly US Airways.

Ever. Even if it's free.

Worst fucking airline in the world, hands down. No contest. Worse than those Russian ones I bet.

You know that scene in “Raiders of the Lost Ark” where Indiana is dragging behind that truck and hanging on to his whip as he’s trying to pull himself back up? Yeah? Well, flying US Air is kinda like that except you’re also covered in unemployed, satan-worshiping wasps and somehow a bear trap has attached itself to your tender parts. And somehow it keeps opening and closing and you're thinking "how is that even possible?" but you don't want to let go of the whip 'cause you really want to get where you're going.

And, honestly, that’s putting it lightly.

Here’s what happened this weekend on what should have been an easy jaunt to LA for the weekend.

Thursday night I was scheduled to fly from Atlanta to LA through Phoenix leaving at 7PM, getting into LA at 11. Not too bad, right? Well, Thursday was the one day of the year it rained in Phoenix and so the wheels came off for the entire operation over there at US Air. I swear if I started an airline today, tomorrow I would be more prepared to handle the situation than they were. Grosser incompetence I’ve never seen.

I got into Phoenix pretty delayed but it didn’t matter as pretty much everything in Phoenix was tits up by that point. And the fact that an "A14" jetway was extending from the "A12" gate wasn't exactly encouraging. Seriously. Click on this pic and check it out.

Then we began to get the bad news. The plane to LA was late coming in. It finally showed up at like 11 (when I was supposed to be arriving in LA). But there was no crew. They were coming in from Seattle. It would be three hours before they got in. Estimated departure was 1:30 AM. I laid down on a bench for a bit I think and waited. The crew showed up, we were boarded and relatively happy to be leaving even if we weren’t getting in until like 3 something. Then I leaned into the aisle to see what the hold up was only to see a pilot leaving the plane with his little suitcase. Then came the voice:

“Our pilots have timed out, this flight is now cancelled. Please see customer service in the concourse to rebook.”

It was after 2 AM. 5 AM Atlanta time. I’d been up for almost 24 hours.

All around me was a chorus of expletive-ridden shouts. None of us were very happy. People were livid. Rather than suffer the seemingly endless customer service line, I called the good folks at US Air and was told I had been booked in the 10:21 flight the next morning. I asked where they would be putting me until then considering I don’t maintain a residence in Phoenix and had not intended to spend the night there that night. They said that it was the weather’s fault, not theirs, so where I was to stay was no one’s problem but mine. This is what came out of my mouth (and it's not good, mom):

“How the fuck is that not your problem? You’re a fucking airline! You don’t fly indoors now, do you? No! Guess what, sometimes it rains, even in shitty-ass Phoenix. You should be prepared for that. Oh, and here’s an idea, how ‘bout having a couple of spare guys who can fly a plane be around in case you need them. This is your hub, after all. You’re the worst fucking airline flying today and I hope you do go bankrupt because it would do us all a favor. You do realize there are other airlines who really have their shit together and actually know what they’re doing and you do realize that the people sitting in those seats are the ones paying your salaries and they most certainly have a choice as to who to fly so it wouldn’t hurt to treat them like a fucking human being? I’d rather walk than fly you ever again.”

I don’t know how much of the end of it she caught ‘cause I think she hung up. I don’t blame her. But then again, she didn’t seem to care too much anyway. After all, it wasn’t her problem. You know? Somehow in US air's mind this was my doing and so my problem to sort out. They act like you're lucky to be getting anything from them.

So I went down to the baggage claim area to see what the deal was with local hotels. Everything was sold out. Phoenix, Scottsdale, Tempe, other names for the same city—you name it. Nascar, Final Four, the clusterfuck airline who’d been canceling flights all day—it was not a good night to be looking. Good spaces on the floor were starting to fill up. I decided to go ahead and get mine.

I managed to make a bed out of that chair there and a wheelchair and got a couple of hours sleep there and on the floor next to it to the sounds of “recent changes in security require all carry-on liquids gels or aerosols to be 3 ounces or less and contained in one, 1-quart re-sealable, zip-top bag. Know your 311 to make your screening process go smoothly.” Fucker. I awoke a shade before 6 to the early morning flights arriving at the baggage carousel.

So this is what it’s like to be homeless, I thought.

I called the airline repeatedly overnight to see if I could get on an earlier flight out only to be told they were all oversold and I was lucky to be on the 10:21. Yet Friday morning when I got to the gate and asked if I could get on the 7:23 flight the guy said “yeah, it’s wide open, come on aboard.” Fucking shysters. Liars, all of them. God, I want to know what is on those computer screens of theirs.

So that was the trip in. Because it was so bad I postponed my trip back to yesterday rather than Sunday. Fast forward to yesterday.

I got to LAX at about 2:30 hoping for the best. However, as soon as I got inside it nosedived. The automated check-in machines were down. Of course, they were understaffed. I commandeered a woman and demanded she speak to me. She told me the flight to Phoenix was never gonna make it on time to get me to my connection. I wasn’t surprised. So she offered to book me through Vegas in first class the whole way to get into Atlanta at 6 in the morning. Just like that, I was already six hours behind schedule and I’d just walked in the door. Thank god somehow it all worked out and I got home this morning on time. I’m tired and I slept in seat 1A and not my own bed like I had planned last night, but I made it home. I’ll just tell you this:

US Airways is the worst fucking airline known to man. Avoid them like the plague they are.

Fuckers.

Thursday, March 22, 2007

Dear Pollen,

Yeah, can’t thank you enough for blowin’ up all in one like one day and makin’ my head feel like a frikkin’ marshmallow. Real cool, ya know. And the overarching fear that you might make me sick has kept me not only from writing but has also kept me so doped up on anti-congestants, Echinacea and vitamin c packets that I don’t even know my name anymore. Fun, fun, fun.

But the joke’s on you, pal. I’m off to LA for the weekend. Smog, I can deal with. You, not so much.

So suck it, pollen.

Oh, and to tithe you over and for old-time's sake, here’s the trailer for prolly the best rock documentary I’ve ever seen. True tales of troubles souls and the ever-delicate balance of art and commerce. Rock and roll, at its most volatile.

Tell 'em to wear white and come when I call.

Dig.

Sunday, March 18, 2007

Beautiful

I found this thing today while looking for Explosions in the Sky videos. It alomst feels animated at times. Give it a second to get off the ground.

The song is "So Long, Lonesome" off their new one. They're the American Sigur Ros.

Friday, March 16, 2007

Rejected submissions for Starbuck’s “The Way I See It” coffee cup series

“I marched in the 60’s, yeah. Against civil rights.”
- S. Thurmond, Edgefield, SC

“Nobody ever learned nothing in no school.”
- Jethro (no last name given), Valdosta, GA

“I’d have killed Jesus if someone hadn’t beat me to it—I’d have shot him right in the face. [Urrrrg sound] Then make up something to cover it up. What did you say this was for again?”
- D. Cheney, Undisclosed

“I tell ya what, I know I may be alone in this but I love those little girl beauty pageants! I’d kill to meet one of ‘em!”
- J. Mark Karr

“I’ll tell you who can suck it, those people who live in, what’s that country, Turkey. Yeah, Turkey. Who names their country after a bird anyway? Losers. Suck it.”
- L. Cable Guy, Atlanta, GA

“You know, people talk about the holocaust and the Jews and how horrible it was and all that but you gotta admit, they were kind of asking for it.”
- M. Gibson, Malibu, CA

“You’ve got it all wrong, it’s the Mexicans and the Swedes who control the media.”
- D. Geffen, Los Angeles, CA

“George W. Bush is a genius.”
- Karl, Washington, DC

Wednesday, March 14, 2007

Top ten reasons I'm glad I'm not going to SXSW

10. The weather in Austin is horrible this time of year. All sunny and 70's and low humidity. Who needs that?

9. A bazillion live bands will be playing on every frikkin' corner, in every bar, restaurant, bookstore and coffee house. Who would want to see that? Puh-lease.

8. The Good, the Bad and the Queen is playing. What's next, they lay down a nasty cover of the "Guns of Brixton" and maybe, just maybe, Paul Simonon takes over the lead vocals such that it sounds like it's actually his?

7. All that Mexican food and margaritas

6. Ditto that for delicious, delicious barbecue and Shiners

5. Same goes for delicious Fat Tires

4. A bunch of bands everyone will be talking about all summer and seeing in big clubs next fall will be playing there this weekend. In little clubs. Or outside.

3. Oh, did I mention the weather? Whoo-doggies! The mid-70's? No thank you. I'll wait 'til summer when it's like a blast furnace!

2. The overflow of cool, laid-back people everywhere, being all cool and nice and chill all weekend and making you want to move home

1. Spoon is playing like twice


And I've got no place to stay.

Well, unless you count my own bedroom.


Crappity-crap-crap-on-a-stick.

Next year.

Monday, March 12, 2007

All of a sudden I miss everyone

That’s the title of the latest Explosions in the Sky album. It's a great one, right? I’ve been living off it for the past week or so. Like everything they’ve done, it sounds as big and as lonely as west Texas. You can smell the dust. You can see the sun setting. And you can hear the wind, nothing to stop it.

My favorite part of their albums has always been that while the songs may have titles like “The birth and death of the day”, “Welcome, ghosts” and “So long, lonesome”, there’s no lyrics so really nothing else to guide you aside from the main title. It colors everything you hear. You essentially create your own story, your own movie in your head. They’re nothing if not cinematic. It’s fantastic to write to.

Tonight, to cap it all off I finally watched the movie “Friday Night Lights” which they scored several years ago. It was fascinating to me as it essentially took place during the last year I ever played Texas football but also because of the emotion of it. A lot of that had to do with the score (as it does with the tv adaptation) but so much more to do with the importance of the game in Texas. Something approaching religion. Perhaps even surpassing it. Nothing else even comes close.

I was too proud to play football past my freshman year in high school as our school tended to field a perennially losing program and I somehow felt I was above it. Besides, I had always excelled at baseball and our program was exceptional. I figured if I was gonna work hard, I may as well win. Some things never change, I’m afraid.

But I often regret not having stuck with football. Not because I would have enjoyed the losing and the August heat but because of the camaraderie I know those guys who stuck it out share. As the movie illustrated, I think often times you do gain more respect for one another in losing than winning.

Something about playing football in Texas. It’s hard to explain, unless you’re from there.

Oh yeah, Explosions in the Sky is playing at a teeny bar here Wednesday night. It's sold out.

But I'm gonna find a way in.

Saturday, March 10, 2007

An open letter to the automatic, motion-sensor towel dispenser recently installed in the bathroom at work

I’m not sure who ordered you or why. The old system of “take a towel out—dry hands—throw into trash can” seemed to be working pretty well aside from whoever the dude is who either has the world’s worst aim or just simply drops them on the floor. It’s probably that one guy who I’m pretty sure is a Republican and hates about everyone who's not white and American. He probably says something like “well that’s their job to pick them up” as he ceremoniously drops them on the floor right next to the trash can.

But back to you, the automatic, motion-sensor towel dispenser. I don’t think it’s a secret that I don’t like you. The insults I hurl at you as I stand there like an idiot or the worst mime of all time waving my wet hands in front of you may have tipped you off. I'm not here for your amusement, automatic, motion-sensor towel dispenser. Just so we're clear.

Speaking of clarity, tell me how best to inform you of my need for a towel. Surely your dispense more than towels, oh wise one. 'Cause I’ve been using the old “ move-hand-up-and-down-in-front-of-little-red-light-thing” motion. Yet this causes you to either dispense no towels at all or like four of them. Your little red light (which, between you and me, I think we both know that thing is purely decorative, btw) just sits there and blinks at me. Rudely, I might add. I may not know the proper motion but I do know the floor under you is soaking wet from people’s un-dried hands flailing beneath you. Just give me a goodamn towel! I'm sorry, that was out of line. But I tell ya what, go ahead and give me two towels 'cause honestly, unlike the old towels which could do the job in one, yours are like the towel equivalent of fax paper. Two barely get the job done. Barely.

Speaking of getting the job done, I like how they just glued you to the box that used to hold our old paper towels and you stick out like 2 feet so if you use the sink on the far right and turn around quickly it’s like running into an ex-girlfriend when you’re really hungover. Only of course, without the awkward conversation. All the surprise and wishing you had not, however.

As much excitement as you caused those first few days, I've come to realize I do not like you automatic, motion-sensor towel dispenser.

I did try to spice you up on Wednesday a bit with the picture of an extremely stoned Towelie with the friendly reminder “don’t forget to get a towel” which I thought might take away from some of our humiliation of waving our wet hands at you. I also painstakingly designed it over the course of what must have been 30 minutes and affixed it to you with tape only to have someone then make a fake CA credits for it only to give credit to someone else.


But still. I tried.

That’s more than I can say for you.

Good day, now.

Wednesday, March 07, 2007

Elvis

Tonight we went to see Elvis Perkins in Dearland at the Earl. And I mean, really, can you get a better name than Elvis Perkins? It does make him sound like he just rolled out of Tupelo or Memphis, however, but he actually grew up in LA and is now kind of from upstate NY.

If there were 50 people there tonight I’d be amazed. It was weirdly empty. I say weirdly because it’s the Earl and he was just written up in Rolling Stone recently. In short, I like him a lot. I had bought his album “Ash Wednesday” earlier in the week and had liked it but live he was even cooler, if a bit stiff—these things take time. He came on stage just by himself and opened into “While you were sleeping” with the band joining him one by one as their parts arrived. They played stand-up bass, harmonium, organ, and even a bass drum on a strap. Behold camera phone pics.


He kind of fills that void left by Nick Drake and now Elliot Smith. Sunday morning music, as we like to call it. At one point I thought (and it might have just been his round spectacles) he was like John singing Paul songs. Or Paul singing John songs, more accurately. Think White Album.

I talked to him after the show for a bit and at one point I was like “yeah, you’d think on a Wednesday more people would make it out man” and he was like “yeah, what can you do…wait, is it Wednesday or Thursday?” Ahh, life on the road.

An interesting tidbit

Average number of searches for "olive garden commercials critique" per day that result in a visit to my blog? 11.

In the past week alone, that search has resulted in 51 visits. Four already today. Who knew people were so interested?

In fact, it's just a shade behind the most popular search term, "howard is so freakin' awesome it blows my mind oh my god how does he do it?" That's just what I've heard.

Tuesday, March 06, 2007

This time I'll work it out



Yeppers, that new Arcade Fire album finally came out today. In so many ways it's been very hard for me to compare it to "Funeral." That hasn't stopped me from trying, of course, but it's moving into that space where I'm seeing the greatness it is on its own.

A lot's been written in recent weeks about if "Funeral" was this whole thing about internal struggle and loss, then this one is about the world's struggle and its current state. I think much like the one-two punch of the Joshua Tree and Achtung Baby, it is. Only in reverse this time.

But the thing I've come to realize about the Arcade Fire is they can take these heavy subjects and somehow they're able to wring such hope out of them. No small feat. Take "Funeral" which was essentially about snow and ice storms, deaths of family members, runaway brothers and vampire bites, dreams and lies, and images of a "family tree losing all its leaves." But for all its weight, that album's never made me the least bit sad. If anything it's always given me buckets of hope. I mean, a band can lose four family members over the course of recording it and still make music that beautiful? Apparently so.

Think about that.

Now, here with the new one you've got an album centered on the not-so-light themes of fear and war and religion and potential oblivion. But the genius of Arcade Fire is they'll add these little elements to their songs to keep them from listing too far toward melancholy. Like, take that little ascending xyolophone piece in "Intervention" that offsets the heaviness and forboding of the organ. Or at the end of "Ocean of Noise" when Win gives the desperate declaration that "I'm gonna work it out/I'm gonna work it all out!" over triunphant strings. Or the pick-up in the tempo and the defiance during the verses of "Windowsill." Or the final french horns over the organ and the pleas to "set my spirit free" during "My Body is a Cage." They simply won't be swayed in their conviction that all's not lost.

But then that's life, isn't it? It's good and it's bad. It's full of highs and lows, times we want to last forever and times that simply can't end fast enough. But it always works out, doesn't it? Don't ask me how, but it does.

One thing that took me far too many years to realize is that when you get down to it, no matter how screwed up things get or how stuffed you think you are, you can't spend your time waiting for things to be perfect. You got to make the best of what you got.

Besides that perfect world is totally on backorder. Apparently everyone wants one this Chirstmas. It's like the Elmo of 2007, already.

So this is the one we got, kids.

Dance like you mean it.

Monday, March 05, 2007

That seems dangerous

Tonight while fillng the old tank at the gas station some crackhead beggar comes crawling out of somewhere to ask for some cash to "catch the bus." What is is with crackheads and catching the bus? Where are they going? But anyway. Long story short, I might have helped him—maybe—with some spare change except for one teeny, weeny, eentsy, teensy thing.

He was smoking a cigarette! Mere feet from the pump where me and another guy were filling up!

I was like "dude, you're getting nothing until you get out of here with that crap. Seriously. Beat it." Apparently he read that as "hey smoking guy, come on around to the other side of the pump, closer to my car, and ask me again only this time cup the ciggy in your hand so that it will be less apparent and perhaps guy who just called you out on it will just think your sleeve is smoking." 'Cause he did. Again, I was like "dude, either you split or I'm gonna help you to the curb."

He then sauntered over to the next pump to ask someone else. I didn't see any 'splosions in the rearview.

Oh, crackheads!

Sunday, March 04, 2007

Keep the car running

The NY Times Magazine has a fascinating article on the Arcade Fire today. The whole thing is well worth reading but to give you an idea of how dedicated and talented these guys are, check out this little excerpt:

"After the musicians completed the initial tracks for each song, they proceeded to layer the album with some ambitious new sounds. For “The Well and the Lighthouse,” they wanted to distort the sound of Régine’s voice on the choruses, so Dravs figured out how to create a Buddy Holly-style tape delay of enormous proportions by feeding her voice again and again through the 24 heads of his sound deck, which kept extending the gap between the original vocal and its strange, degraded echo until he achieved the aural equivalent of a stadium full of spectators doing the wave. (Dravs: “This band’s very good at knowing what they want; they just haven’t read enough manuals.”) For “My Body Is a Cage” and “Intervention,” Win and Régine heard in their aural imaginations the sound of a mighty organ, so they rented the Saint-Jean-Baptiste church in Montreal with its 500-pipe instrument; after an engineer miked the entire place, Régine recorded the parts in a series of single takes (though there was a half-second delay between depressing the keys and the overwhelming sound it generated) while the band tracks played into her headphones. For “Black Mirror,” “Keep the Car Running” and “No Cars Go,” Win and Régine wanted a fuller sound than could be achieved by their own ragtag orchestra, so they went to Budapest (no union rules and a good rate on the Canadian dollar) and recorded their arrangements with a 60-piece orchestra and a military choir."

Yeah, I know. How did they get to be so smart?

I also liked this little quote Win had about him and Regine:

“We started playing together and went on a date that same night. It wasn’t like, this could work. It was more like, this does work. And we haven’t been apart for more than a week since.”

Yeah, you could say it works.

Here's the link to the full article if you're so inclined.
www.nytimes.com/2007/03/04/magazine/04arcade.t.html?pagewanted=1&_r=1

Saturday, March 03, 2007

Hockey's changed

Last night a few of us took the company tickets and went to watch ourselves a little hockey at Philips Arena. The Thrashers took on the Ottawa Senators which is always nice because you get to hear a little "Oh Canada" to start things off. And the home team won 4-2 in fairly exciting game.

But what got me was the spectacle of the whole thing. I should probably note that I've never been to a hockey game in Atlanta and the last game I went to was a Rangers game in New York. Here's a picture of a picture of me and Mike after that game at the Garden, pimpin' it in the skybox drinking free beer until they made us leave. Note that Dallas won.

And here is a pic from last night shot on the camera phone.

Last night, there was food and beverage options out the ying-yang. Fire shot out of these massive birds' mouths at various pivotal moments. The music was deafening. There were spotlights. There were projectors. There were food and beverage options out the ying-yang. And I gotta admit, it was pretty exciting if a little overwhelming.

The Garden has none of that. There's like two types of beer, hot dogs and pretzels, and an organ. And, of course, the lingering thought that John Lennon played his last live show right there. And Mick and the boys prowled the stage and talked about the Midnight Rambler for upwards of seven minutes in one of the best live versions of a song ever recorded.

There were also gobs of Stars game back when I lived in Dallas during the cup years but that was when they were still playing in Reunion Arena before moving into their own new fancy arena which I'm sure is no less entertaining than what I witnessed last night.

Thursday, March 01, 2007

Things I really wanna hear more about

Anna Nicole Smith
What? Did something happen? Tell me more! I heard something about something happening to her but it’s so hard to find coverage on it. If only every channel and every legit news outlet would cover it. Then maybe we’d know “was she on drugs?” or “what will happen to her body” or “what’s gonna happen to her baby with the white trash name—what is it, Tami Gail or Krystal Rose or Kaitlin? I can’t remember.” Let me check CNN as I’m sure they’ve added a second ticker to cover it.


The national evening news
When it dies, they’ll only have themselves to thank. I mean, sure there might be 20 minutes or so of actual news but the ads! I mean who the hell is watching this stuff? The frikkin’ cast of Cocoon? Golden Girls? Is anyone watching from a seat that’s not a wheelchair? The rare moment when I’m home early enough to watch it (old people go to sleep really early) I usually think about Wilford Brimley and how he’s out there sitting in a vinyl recliner somewhere and probably dozing off and how at that moment I’m getting my news from the same place as him. Then I turn off the tv and go running. Or get on the information superhighway. Or do other things old people can’t do.

Possible side effects
Yeah, I think I’d rather be sick.

Friday Night Lights doesn’t have an audience
Well have you checked my couch Wednesday nights at 8? Everyone I know who watches it loves it. It’s the best show on tv. These things take time. This is a whole other posting but I’ve been playing with this idea of relationships we have to everything around us and the fact that for the most part only very insignificant things happen immediately. The most meaningful relationships take some time to kindle. Albums, books, movies, brands we love, places we love, people we love—we don’t fall in love with them immediately. Well, for the most part.

Studio 60 doesn’t have an audience
See above.

Those “Who wants to win money?” shows
Maybe it’s me, but seeing other people win or lose money does nothing for me. I always thought game shows were for morning television and for people who are unemployed or might have been injured in an accident and are entitled to compensation. And I mean, like five years ago you had to answer questions and stuff to win money. Now you just have to point. Whoopity-do! That's great television!

Iraq and how well it’s going
No it's not. Stop saying that. In fact, it’s a disaster. It always has been. Just like a certain guy living in a certain very large east coast city in 2003 and is now writing this said it would be. People don’t like invasions. They never have. Especially people being invaded. No one has ever greeted a man holding a gun with a flower. Who writes that crap? What Harlequin novels are they reading? How hard is that to understand? Listen, I’m not a big fan of our president by any stretch but you come in here with tanks and airplanes blowing stuff up and try to unseat him while promising to make my life better, expect me to scour the underside of my sink for something to light on fire and throw at you. All the research in the world and they forgot to take into account the fact these are people who’ve lived there for millennia. That’s their home. And now, just like fish and houseguests, we’ve stayed too long and we’re stinking it up and it ain’t gonna get better ‘til we leave.

How hungover I look
Yeah, well, if you had the Wednesday I had your Thursday morning would probably look a lot like mine. So suck it.

That’s all I got.