Monday, December 31, 2007

I'm Chris Hansen



If you've seen this guy on TV, you understand my addiction to his show on Dateline NBC. If you've seen him approaching you in person with a clipboard saying, "Why don't you take a seat right there?", you're fucked. Surely, most of you have seen or at least heard about his show, To Catch A Predator, which busts older men trying to pick up teenage girls online for sex. It's very disturbing and uncomfortable to watch, yet I can't take my eyes off the screen whenever it comes on. These internet sex predators are creepy and make me want to vomit. But the way that every one of these guys react is borderline comical. "I've never done this before", "I wasn't going to do anything", and "I had a feeling this was going to happen" are just a few of my favorite lines from these guys once they've been tagged. The only thing wrong with the scenario is the fact that most of these scumbags get minimal jailtime with a year or two of probation. Go get 'em, Chris!

Thursday, December 20, 2007

My Top 10 Albums of 2007



Okay, it's actually 11 but I couldn't narrow it down. So sue me bitches!

1. Nick Lowe - At My Age
An instant classic. The most infectous album I heard all year. This album was musically, lyrically and stylistically beyond anything else. And as I've said before, Nick is The Man.

2. Crowded House - Time On Earth
Neil Finn and Nick Seymour re-united after 10 years to record a brilliant collection of new songs. And I finally got to see them live (in Atlanta), even if it was without the departed Paul Hester. Great album.

3. Vulture Whale - Vulture Whale
My buddies Wes, Les, Jake and Keelan recorded a R&R classic this year complete with attitude and balls. I can't wait for the next one.

4. Steve Earle - Washington Square Serenade
Speaking of attitude and balls - as a longtime fan since his first album, Guitar Town, I was pleasantly surprised to hear Steve record his best album since 1997's El Corazon.

5. The Dexateens - Hardwire Healing
More buddies of mine from T-town who released their best album this year. "Neil Armstrong" is the song of the year. And Elliott, Sweet Dog and the boys sure can rock!

6. Tommy Womack - There, I Said It!
Longtime Nashville musician and writer Tommy Womack put together a fantastic batch of tunes reflecting on his life and times. His tome, The Cheese Chronicles, is to books what Spinal Tap is to movies.

7. Ryan Adams - Easy Tiger
His childishness notwithstanding, Ryan Adams still put out one of the best albums of the year and the best of his recordings with The Cardinals. "Halloweenhead" is another top song of '07.

8. Bruce Springsteen - Magic
Although sonically, the production is bland and overcompressed, one can't deny that The Boss can still write some damn fine songs.

9. Mark Knopfler - Kill To Get Crimson
This is Mark Knopfler's best solo album. Subtle yet blissful, Kill To Get Crimson is a tasty treat indeed.

10. Anat Cohen w/ The Anzic Orchestra - Noir
This was one that caught me offguard. Anat Cohen is a talented saxophonist and clarinetist originally from Israel. Her music is what I would describe best as orchestral jazz. This is a sublime album of textural beauty that resonates long after you hear it for the first time.

11. Mitch Easter - Dynamico
Out of the 'Where Are They Now' file and back into the mainstream, the legendary producer and songwriter came out of the woodwork to record a damn good album with an edge.

I Wish I Had Thought Of This Line



"When I'm walking I hate drivers, and when I'm driving I hate pedestrians"

-Hollywood Elsewhere poster

Monday, December 17, 2007

Whoops



This morning some employees requested that we play Christmas music over the PA system here at work, so I hooked up my iPod to the intercom to play my Christmas music playlist on shuffle mode. Only one thing wrong with that - I forgot that one of the songs on that playlist is "FUCK CHRISTMAS" by a classic punk band from back in the day called Fear. And yes, it's exactly what you think it is - the lead singer (Lee Ving) screaming "FUCK CHRISTMAS" over three chords for a minute and a half. Whoopsie daisies. Fortunately, no one has come forward to complain. After polling several people, the general consensus is that the song was too raw and aggressive to understand what the hell they were singing anyway. Merry Fucking Christmas everyone!

Thursday, December 13, 2007

Postal Workers Are F**ing Geniuses


Why do we even have a postal service anymore? This latest episode that happened at work today shouldn't have surprised me, but I'm dumbfounded nonetheless. In addition to the 100 holiday gift boxes we ship to our customers every year, we also send out a couple hundred desk calendars. Two days ago I took one of these calendars, already stuffed in its envelope, to the Homewood post office to see exactly what the postage amount would be. We have a postage meter and scale here at the office but because of the unusual size and shape of the calendars, I didn't want to assume anything. The postage bitch weighed and measured the piece and told me it would be 97 cents. I said thank you and was on my way. I printed 200 meter tapes with 97 cents postage and someone apply them to all 200 mail pieces (why do it yourself when you can delegate?).

Well guess what? I just got a call from a guy at the post office saying that the postage was wrong on our calendars. I kindly informed him that it was one of his fellow postal workers who weighed the piece and told me the postage. She was wrong, he said. They're considered parcel and are supposed to be $1.30 per piece. So now I've got to print 200 more meter tapes at 33 cents apiece, take them to the goddamn post office, and stick them on myself. I'm about to go postal on the post office. Merry Christmas!

Wednesday, December 12, 2007

Zep, Key Changes, etc.



The biggest reunion in the history of rock n' roll took place the other night when Led Zeppelin played a show at O2 arena in London. Like The Police reunion earlier this year, I wasn't sure how to feel about it. The surviving three Zepsters performed a couple of times in the 80's with disastrous results, and the Page/Plant tour in the 90's got mixed reviews. But I'll have to admit that the thought of Page, Plant, Jonesy and Jason Bonham got me more than a little psyched. The show went off with a bang and the initial reviews were positive. Then I saw the You Tube clips.

One of my biggest pet peeves when it comes to live shows is the inevitable key changes of songs. As rock vocalists age, their voices lose range, resulting in an alteration in the songs that enable a singer to not make an ass of himself trying to hit notes he can't possibly hit anymore. It totally ruins the song but most people don't notice the difference anyway. However, I do and it pisses me off. Just take a listen to the latest live Elton John or Genesis tracks on iTunes - they're friggin' horrible. And as much as I hate to say it, the posted songs from the Led Zep show the other night are horrible as well. Some songs like "Good Times Bad Times", "Stairway" and "The Song Remains The Same" were at least a whole step down (in musicspeak), making them virtually unrecognizable. So what's the solution? Don't fucking play the songs. Or just don't play period. The fact that Zeppelin hasn't given in and toured in the past 25 years has only added to their mystique.

Bob Lefsetz said it best - "We revere retired baseball players, but we don't want to see them take the field and play nine innings. We don't want our memories fucked with. What would Jesus do? Well, he's NEVER come back. Maybe that's why people still revere him so!"

Monday, December 03, 2007

Evel


We lost a legend the other day in Evel Knievel. For a kid who grew up in the 70's, there was no one cooler than Mr. Knievel. He had the look, the swagger and the balls to be the hero of every male on the planet. I watched every one of his stunts on TV and had every Evel Knievel toy on the market. I was also damn lucky never to have cracked my spine jumping homemade ramps on my bicycle.

And I even got to meet him once...almost. I was seven years old and my old man was able to get us onto the guest list at a Kenny Stabler roast here in B-ham. I met and got photos with Stabler, Irv Cross and several other athletes and celebrities. But I almost pissed my pants when I saw the one and only Evel Knievel sitting by himself at the bar having a drink(s). My dad got someone to walk over and ask for me to meet him and have a photo op. He raised his head, looked over at me and gave a backhanded wave with his right hand as if to say, "Get the fuck away from me - I'm having a Goddamn drink." You'd think that I would've been devastated. While there was certainly a feeling of disappointment, I couldn't help but think that his reaction was, in a way, actually cooler than if he had been like Santa Claus, laughing and lifting me onto his lap. In the same way that Clint Eastwood's son of a bitch attitude enhanced his aura, I gotta think that Evel's actions that night had the same effect. He was simply one badass motherfucker, and I'll miss him.

Monday, November 26, 2007

How Far Do I Have To Go Anyway?


Sorry for being AWOL lately, but I just got back from a Thanksgiving family trip to San Francisco to see my brother. The trip was great until Saturday night. We found a sports bar that was showing the Iron Bowl and sat our happy asses down to watch the inevitable defeat. Every other person was there to watch Missouri-Kansas, which was fine. We picked the one TV that had our game and we were the only ones who gave a shit about it. Then during the third quarter, a couple sat near us and was obviously pulling for Auburn. The girl struck up a conversation with my brother and informed us that she was from Montgomery and went to Auburn. Her boyfriend was from Texas but was pulling for Auburn because he loved her (in other words, he wanted to get laid that night). Then, as the game wore on, another group of tools started cheering for Auburn. I looked at my brother and we had the same thought. "Just how far do we have to fucking go to get away from these fucking rednecks?"

Sure enough, as the game ended and we were walking out in disgust, we overheard this herd of douchebags chanting "SIX IN A ROW!" Wonderful- you can count. I guess I'll just have to go to Beijing next year to watch the fucking game. With my luck, of course, there'll be some Chinese dudes there with orange and blue face paint shouting "Ah yes, Tubaveel will ween again! Go Tygas!"

Thursday, November 15, 2007

Oh, And One More Thing



Can anyone explain to me just what the fuck is going on in Pakistan right now?

The Name's Plissken


The following scenario keeps happening and I don't know why: Everytime I meet a northerner I extend my hand, look them in the eye and say very clearly, "Hi, I'm Tommy. Nice to meet you." Invariably, the first thing out of their mouths is, "Hi Tom." Every single time.

Is something getting lost in translation here? Look, it's not that I'm proud of my name or that I really care all that much whether I'm called Tom or Tommy. What I don't understand is that I look them directly in the eye and say it very clearly and they STILL insist on saying it differently. Is there something inherent that keeps northern-born humans from adding the letter 'Y' to a person's first name? The first time it happened I thought, "Hmm. That's peculiar." Then it happened again and again, until after about the 10th time I just accepted that it was going to occur everytime. And it only happens with people that have northern accents. Maybe it's their way of belittling us, as if to say, "Silly Rednecks and their nicknames." Who knows? It's just baffling to me, that's all. Peace out bitches.

Wednesday, November 14, 2007

From The Desk of Ernie Souchak



...And the mountain rises higher and yet higher
Thrusting upwards, straining ever upward
burgeoning its power from the very loins of the earth.
Its peak piercing at last the center of the sun
til its golden molten melting life explodes in a...

Wednesday, November 07, 2007

See What I Mean?


I don't appear to be as sad as I described in the class photo. But I vividly remember getting ragged on incessantly the rest of that day by my classmates.



I'll bet anything that I was in deep thought about how I was going to kill my mother.

Tuesday, November 06, 2007

My Scarred Childhood



Someone sent me an e-mail that contained this photo and it reminded me of a dark period from my childhood. When I started kindergarten, having an August (late) birthday, I was the youngest kid in the class. Because of this, I always felt intimidated by the other kids (especially the boys). This, combined with the fact that I was my mother’s first child, made it extremely difficult for me. My mom didn’t know what the fuck she was doing with me, specifically when it came to dressing me for school. She’d dress me like I was in the fucking JC Penny catalog, complete with velour shirts and four inch thick belts. It all came to a head on the day of the class picture. She insisted on dressing me in one of those gay-ass one piece outfits with short pants legs and a pair of Buster Brown shoes like the cheerleaders wore. With tears running down my face, I pleaded with her not to make me wear this Godawful outfit. I just knew the other boys would be wearing jeans and t-shirts and would terrorize my ass if they saw me in this goddamn turd of an outfit (it was brown).

Needless to say, she won and I reluctantly went to school that day for pictures. Sure enough, all the other boys were wearing jeans and/or Toughskins. If you look at the picture now, all the boys are standing there looking cool with their thumbs in their belt loops while poor little ol’ me is standing off to the side by myself with a pitiful look on my face. And, like I predicted, I was bullied for the duration of the year. Thankfully, my mom mercifully held me back for an extra year of kindergarten. I still give her shit about it to this day about how it scarred me for life. What does she do? She just laughs and laughs about it now.

By the time my youngest brother Mark came along, she didn’t really give a shit anymore. That is, until the day he came home from school and gave her the class picture that she had no idea had been taken (he was bad about giving her notes from school). I can’t begin to describe the satisfaction I got from watching the look of horror spread across her face as she stared at that picture and saw her youngest son sitting cross-legged in the front, wearing his red and black cowboy outfit with white fringe and brown cowboy boots. Revenge sure can be sweet…

Friday, November 02, 2007

Salute



Well, an era has ended and not just for me. Yesterday, my friend Fred Osuna announced the closing of his store, Laser’s Edge, which has been a mainstay in this area for over 15 years. Except for a tiny used record shop in Southside called Charlemagne, this marks the end of independent CD/Record retail in the Birmingham market.

At the risk of droning on like Bob Lefsetz, I knew this day was inevitable. The record industry has gone though enormous change over the past decade. File-sharing and online stores have caused the record-buying public to totally change their habits relative to music purchasing and listening. As a glorious result, major labels have floundered, mostly due to their own idiocy and lack of foresight. Unfortunately, it has also been at the expense of stores like Laser’s Edge, who rely on these very customers to keep them afloat.

I know what the statistics say- that most of the record (CD) buying public buy from Wal-Mart when shopping for music. But these people have no soul, if I may be so bold to proclaim. Sure, I buy stuff from iTunes and Amazon from time to time. But for the most part, I don’t care how much I save shopping online or at Wal-Mart. Independent stores such as Laser’s Edge provide a safe haven for music lovers like me. It means something to be able to browse and flip through the racks of CD’s and records; to be able to hold them in your hand and read the credits; to smell that “new CD smell” when they peel off the shrink wrap; to listen to the soothing sounds of music in your ears while you saunter through the aisles – not “BUBBA, A CUSTOMER NEEDS ASSISTANCE ON AISLE TWAYLVE!!”

And on top of that, Laser’s Edge has literally made my life better, if only for the music that Fred and his staff have introduced to me over the years. I can name several right off the bat – Hem, Daniel Tashian, The Bees, Lewis Taylor, Nick Lowe. Mock me all you want but my life would have been significantly less fulfilling without these artists and their music. And my newfound obsession with jazz in recent years happened to coincide with my frequent visits to the Edge. Most importantly through all of this, I’ve gained valuable insight and friendship from Fred and Boyce on all matters pertaining to music, politics and everything else. That’s what I’ll miss the most. Cheers to you, Fred and Laser’s Edge. Good luck with your future ventures, whatever they might be.

Monday, October 29, 2007

Things I Don't Understand, Part IV



1. Running out of gas. I've seen an unusual number of folks lately who've been pouring gas into their cars on the side of the road. How does one let this happen? I realize gas prices are high but when the light comes on, go to a friggin' gas station.
2. Incense. I've never been able to tolerate the smell of incense. Does one need to be a dopesmoker to appreciate this pungent odor?
3. Bowties. I touched on this briefly once before and it's come to light again in recent days after a couple of females told me they consider this look to be "hot". I just don't get it. I still maintain that this is the single most nerdy look for a man. Maybe I just need for my maker to re-wire my brain. How do I do this? Do I need to kill myself immediately or can God do it while I'm asleep? Somebody please help.
4. The Mohawk. First caught on in the British and then west coast punk scene of the late 70's; went away for awhile; now I see guys shaving these classy shapes into their heads again. Good luck getting any type of job other than tattoo artist or club bouncer.
5. Buffet dawdlers. People, there are others waiting in line behind you to get their fucking food. Don't socialize with the person next to you; don't be picky for five minutes trying to decide what and how much you want. Just spoon the food on your plate and move on.
6. Incessant song requesters. If I say that I don't know the song (i.e. "Take Me Home Tonight" by Eddie Money), chances are I DON'T KNOW IT! Stop singing it to me and your tablemates at the top of your lungs after every song that I play. It ain't gonna happen.

Friday, October 26, 2007

Make Them Go Away



I've about had it with customized cell phone answer tones. You've heard them - when you call someone and instead of a dial tone you're bombarded with some loud cheesy rock song that immediately causes you to pull the phone away from your head. Why do people do this? It's bad enough to have to listen to crappy ring tones but what is the point of the answer tone? Whether it's Silverchair or Sweet Home Alabama, I don't want to hear it. People are getting much too cute and creative with their phones. Just let them ring normally and spare the rest of us please. Peace out my peeps!

Thursday, October 25, 2007

I'm Still Giddy



I wish I could talk about something else but I can't seem to be able to move on just quite yet. Ah, the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat.

Thursday, October 18, 2007

It's Here



It's Tennessee week, and I'm nervous. Not because I fear the Vols. It's just hard to get used to the "process". The process requires patience, among other things, and I'm just not a patient person. Friday night, we (Jake Brake w/ Sweet Dog on drums) will be rocking Egan's Bar in Tuscaloosa. This is not a show to miss, considering that when we played the same Tennessee Eve show two years ago, I apparently drunkenly taunted a Tennessee fan who resembled Phil Fulmer by proclaiming, "HEY FAT PHIL - GO EAT A DOZEN CUM-GLAZED KRISPY KREME DOUGHNUTS YOU FAT FUCK!" (or something to that effect). TT + Alcohol + Microphone = Countless hours of listening pleasure!

Tuesday, October 16, 2007

Ryan Throws Another Tantrum



I went to see Ryan Adams last night, not quite knowing what to expect. You see, Ryan is notorious for throwing hissy fits onstage and acting like a fool in general. He's been known to throw objects as well as insults at the audience. He even once had security escort an audience member out of the building for having the audacity to shout out a request for "Summer Of '69", an obvious poke at his name. When I saw him at City Stages (our local music festival, if you want to call it that) two years ago, he played with the stage lights completely off the whole set, kicked his female bass player in the leg and condescendingly thumbed his nose to the crowd by saying, "It's great to be here, wherever I am." Then a few weeks ago in Minneapolis, he had a meltdown and left the stage prematurely due to sound issues.

Which brings us to last night's show. He and his band, The Cardinals, hit the stage around 8:20 and played a solid hour-long first set. They sounded great, the crowd responded with enthusiasm, and he responded with a workmanlike performance. The band took a 15 minute break and came back out to an audience who had by this time had downed a few cocktails. Now, Ryan is particularly anal about tuning and stops to tune his guitar after every song, resulting in a minute or so of awkward silence. As a result, the audience would grow restless and begin shouting out song requests. About four songs into the second set, you could tell he was starting to get annoyed by it. While the opening chords of "When The Stars Go Blue" started to ring out, he began berating the audience. "Do you guys do this everytime," he asked. "Do you do this at movie theaters? When you go watch Titanic, do you yell 'Don't crash' at the screen?" He stopped playing, changed guitars and launched into a different song, which obviously took his bandmates by surprise. As soon as the song was over, 5 songs and 15 minutes into the second set, he said, "Thanks Birmingham - you guys are wonderful" and walked off the stage with his band. Ten seconds later, the lights came on and a CD blared from the PA. Show over - no encore.

I like his music but this guy needs to ditch the petulant, spoiled brat attitude and grow up. On one hand, it was a bit amusing but on the other, it was incorrigibly childish. It's not like the crowd was yelling "FREE BIRD" or "YOU SUCK!" (although as paying customers, they would have been totally within their right to do so). They were simply yelling out requests for songs that they wanted to hear. On top of that, these were songs that he had written! I'd be flattered if I was him. Instead, he's just a whiny wannabe rock star.

UPDATE- I just talked to a friend of mine who talked to another mutual friend of ours who worked the show last night and he said the Ryan's crew was nervous all day that he might have a meltdown. Here are some tidbits:

1. The reason he came on late was because he was skateboarding outside. When he finally came back in, he handed the skateboard to my friend and said "Thank you for letting me skateboard in your city."

2. His manager reportedly became visibly and vocally nervous when the crowd started yelling out song requests. He told my friend that Ryan has to have a "handler" with him at all times to keep him from getting into situations.

3. I missed this but as soon as he exited the stage, he ripped his shirt off his body and threw it aside.

4. My favorite tidbit- apparently some disgruntled fans threw eggs at his bus with "You suck" written on them in black magic marker (where and how they obtained the eggs, I have no idea). He then sent his manager outside to calm everyone down.

5. Lastly, Ryan has a lifesize cardboard cutout of Big Bird that he takes with him on the road and he supposedly freaks out if he doesn't have it. Well guess what? He left it in his dressing room last night. My friend and his crew tacked it on the wall next to the stage.

WHAT A FUCKING HEADCASE!

Wednesday, October 10, 2007

Oh God, I've Become One Of Them



I used to smoke like a fiend - a carton a week all through my twenties. And, like Bill Hicks, I thought all non-smokers were pussies. However, after quitting cold turkey about eight years ago, I slowly shifted from tolerating smoking to being slightly annoyed by it. Now, I shamefully admit that I've moved over into the "disgusted by smoking" category. It's not so much the smokey bars that are the problem. I've performed in bars for twenty years and gotten used to it. No, it's smelling it away from bars that has finally pushed me over the edge. I had no idea just how much it reeked until I quit, which has finally led me to the conclusion that it is fucking gross. So smoke away my malodorous brethren. I'll never be "that guy" - the guy who tells you to quit (unless you're my brother).

Tuesday, October 02, 2007

Krystally Kool


I've been meaning to get this off my chest for awhile but has anyone seen these cheesy (no pun intended) Krystal commercials aimed and starring dorky college kids? For those of you who haven't had the pleasure, each commercial features a group of students who submit their own "Krystal Lover" testimonials that are filmed and shown with an air of faggotry I haven't seen since the infamous Mentos commercials. If this is a true representation of college life these days, then we're in a lot of trouble. The frat daddies and sorostitutes shown in these ads are total tools and for some reason mostly hail from the south. Now I admit that I was once a frat daddy myself, but I would've gotten my ass kicked up and down University Blvd. had I acted this queer. I love a drunken Krystal combo as much as the next person - I just hope I don't act that gay while I'm eating them.

Monday, September 24, 2007

Thanks Dumbass!



So my buddy Jay and I played the other night at a smallish bar here in town to a crowd of about 20 or so drunks and buffoons. After our riveting performance of the Luna version of "Sweet Child Of Mine", some dude walks up and asks if he can sing and play "Patience" by G&R. Now let me say one thing first. NOTHING is more annoying to a musician than a complete stranger who asks if he can take over your gig. It actually happens more than you think and it amazes me how some people consider a stage with real musicians as their own personal karaoke showcase. Not only did this guy want to sing - he actually wanted us to exit the stage area and let him perform solo. I actually let someone do this a long time ago and he dropped my guitar, putting a crack in the wood. So now, I make it a policy of allowing no one access to my instrument unless it's a friend or relative or someone that I ask to sit in.

Anyway, after politely telling him no and relating the dropped guitar story, he kept on. "Dude, I won't drop your guitar. I've got a hundred dollar bill in my wallet that you can hold onto while I play in case anything happens to it." Yeah, well, I paid $500 for the guitar but thanks anyway. He then began sharing his credentials with us - that he had lived in Nashville, he sang with Shelby Lynne, blah blah blah. So finally, I told him he could sing the song with our accompaniment. Once we launched into it, this guy started gripping the microphone the way Paris Hilton grips a stiffy. And he didn't so much sing into the mic as much as he made love to it, even keeping his eyes closed (thank God I had him sing into Jay's mic and not mine). But I noticed he was channeling Axl Rose with a heavy country twang that made it even doubly annoying. Finally and mercifully, the song ended.

But the story doesn't end there. Before we could play another note, he was hollering for us to "play some cawntry!" and began launching into a series of classic country songs a capella. I tried explaining to him that I had sung these songs a thousand times in another band but he wouldn't shut up. After he began singing "Folsom Prison Blues" at the top of his lungs, we relented by playing "I Got Stripes" by Johnny Cash. Although not one of Cash's best known songs, it was featured in the movie Walk The Line. As we played it, he stared blankly at us like he had never heard the song before. Whatever - we played the damn country song and took a break. Before we could make it to our seats, this guy was at us again trying to let him sing some "cawntry". He then walked up to some folks at the bar and started singing more a capella cawntry classics at the top of his lungs, seemingly trying to get the fellow patrons to join him on his crusade of terror. He finally approached me and said he'd give me a hundred dollars if I let him play and sing ONE song. I looked at Jay with disbelief and then back at the buffoon. "Okay". What can I say? I'm a complete whore. However, once he handed me the bill, he started trying to guilt trip me. "Dude, I can't believe a fellow musician would actually take the money." Then you don't really know many musicians, do you dipshit?

So we walked up there, I handed him my guitar and went back to my seat. When I looked up, I noticed that he was holding the guitar against his body without using the strap. I walked back up there and asked him what he was doing. "I don't usually use these strap things," he said. Then how the fuck do you hold the guitar up while you play? I guess he could see in my eyes that this was unacceptable, so he started to put the strap on BACKWARDS ever the wrong shoulder. I was dumbfounded that this self-described Nashville Star honestly didn't know how to strap on a guitar correctly. Unbelievable. He then began playing a series of random chords and started singing the opening verse to "Dixieland Delight", albeit to the wrong chords. Needless to say, it sounded horrible. He attempted to sing several other songs to no avail. Finally, he started singing something else that was utterly unrecognizable at first. I soon realized the song he was butchering was "Country Boy Can Survive" by Hank Joonya. To his credit, I gotta give him creativity points for choosing the most bizarre chord progression imaginable for such a simple song. I walked up to the bar and Kyle, the manager, yelled "What is this shit?!? Get this fucker off - now!"

So we dragged him away and thus ended the musical odyssey of the idiot Nashville Star wannabe. I split the money with Jay, since he had to suffer through it just as much as I did.

Friday, September 21, 2007

Ashamed to be Caucasian, 3-D


Last night I got dragged to a new bar here in town called "Twist & Shout". This place is one of those "dueling piano" type establishments that I tend to dread going to. And sure enough, my dread was warranted. What you get at this place is two overweight dorky white guys (don't say it) playing and singing the lowest common denominator of tame classic pop songs for an audience of drunk caucasians. Watching a bunch of tools wearing shorts and flip-flops singing aloud to 'Sittin' On The Dock Of The Bay' and 'The Devil Went Down To Georgia' is not my idea of entertainment. These performers were as soul-less as their scrotums are ball-less. I felt like I was watching a Don "No Soul" Simmons concert. So if you're ever in the 'ham, don't waste your time at this place.

Thursday, September 20, 2007

Rediscovering Floyd



Of the many things I remember about the spring of '88- dating my first psycho, graduating high school, losing my virginity on the floor of a fucking bath tub with the shower water raining on us- one that sticks out that was seemingly cool at the time was the introduction of Classic Rock 99.5 in the Birmingham market. I remember thinking how cool it was to be able to hear Zeppelin, The Who, The Doors, etc. on the radio instead of Top 40 crap. What I didn't realize, however, was that they'd stick to the same core playlist for 20 fucking years! They literally have a list of about 1000 songs by the same 200 artists that they play over and over, something akin to Chinese water torture. Why didn't I just change the station, you might ask? Well, the other options were simply worse, and this was before CD's and mp3's. Because of this, I got sick of several of these artists before I had a chance to really delve into their material.

One of these such artists was Pink Floyd. Being forced to listen to Money, Comfortably Numb, Another Brick In The Wall Part 2 and Wish You Were Here several million times would do it to anyone. Despite my friends Andrew and David totally immersing themselves into this band, I just thought they were weird (Them: "Oh come on man, 'Bike' is genius! 'The Final Cut' is brilliant!" Me: Zzzzzzzzzz). Since then and expecially lately, however, I've started to listen again with a little more intensity. And while I still can't grasp Animals or The Final Cut or the Syd Barrett era, I think most of their stuff is breathtaking, especially The Dark Side Of The Moon. The songs and the sound make for a perfect marriage of futuristic yet artistic clutter and organic beauty. It really is one of the greatest albums of all time. I also think Wish You Were Here and The Wall are inspired as well in their songwriting and storytelling. Why am I writing all of this? I dunno. Slow Day I guess. Peace out.

Wednesday, September 19, 2007

This Oge Bidness


Once again, the Oge has gotten bored with being inconspicuous and decided to carry out an armed robbery with some of his pals. Why can't this guy do us all a favor and move to an island somewhere to live the rest of his miserable existance? Because he's an attention whore, even if it means flirting with the law. He can't stand being an irrelevant bystander on the sidelines. He's gotta be the man. I hope he goes away for a looooooong time (unfortunately, we won't get that lucky). Don't bend over for the soap, Juice.

Sunday, September 16, 2007

Trifecta


With Bama's exciting yet heart attack inducing victory last night, it completed a trifecta which constitutes the ultimate day in college football - an Auburn loss, a Tennessee loss and a Tide victory. Things may not be back to normal quite yet (that comes when the clock strikes :00 on November 24th) but they sure are looking up. It's just all part of the process, aight?

Tuesday, September 11, 2007

Jorts. Why?



You've seen 'em. You've chuckled to yourself at people who wear them (unless, of course, you're one of the poor bastards who wear them). Jorts, aka denim shorts, have made a comeback this summer by tools everywhere. Like those who sport mullets, jorts wearers are part of an exclusive club whose members are seemingly unaware that the rest of the country looks upon them with disdain and ridicule. And why is it that only those with the whitest legs wear them? This is just one of those things that never cease to amaze me. Stand up and be proud jorts people!

Friday, September 07, 2007

Desperation



MTV has announced a new reality show- "A Shot at Love With Tila Tequila". Tila Tequila is a bisexual MySpace phenomenon and on the show she'll be choosing from among both male and female suitors. Just what the hell is the world coming to anyway? Do they not think that parents will be outraged and stage a smear campaign against the network? This thing will be yanked after one episode. MTV's ratings have been plummeting for years, and this move screams of desperation.

MTV has become a joke. During their heyday, you could turn it on at any given time and see a number of cheesy, low budget videos that were brilliant in their primitiveness. Remember Greg Kihn's "Jeopardy"? Who can forget "Mexican Radio" by Wall of Voodoo, Adam Ant's "Goody Two Shoes" or bouffanted Wally Palmar's lisp in "Talking In Your Sleep" by the Romantics? Hell, even the Stones's best videos were the cheap-ass ones from Tattoo You. And one of the greatest videos of all time? Why Van Halen's "Jump" of course, which infamously cost $1000 to make. When video budgets got bigger, so did the level of boredom and rubbishness - an interesting correlation indeed. That's also around the time that videos began disappearing from the network, making way for crappy game and reality shows like the one mentioned above. Put yourselves and the rest of us out of our misery and just shut it down already.

Thursday, September 06, 2007

Go Team Win!


Alright, I haven't posted in awhile. My mind has been consumed with football lately and I figured you people are tired of hearing about it. Sometimes I wish I had never been turned onto sports- it's caused more stress and frustration than joy. But no, from the time I was able to use my legs I had to be running around the yard wearing a #12 Bama jersey carrying a football. I used to actually play whole football games by myself in the front yard. I'm sure people passing by would say "Oh, that's nice" when they saw a 5 year-old kid passing the ball and tackling himself.

Between the Tide and the Braves, it's been a constant roller coaster of emotions for over thirty damn years. For every Van Tiffin and Francisco Cabrera, there've been lots of Jeff Dunns and Dan Kolbs. Would I trade it all to be a USC and Yankees fan? Hell no.

Tuesday, August 28, 2007

Who's Gonna Be The Next Gay Republican Out Of The Closet?


In light of Idaho Republican Senator Larry Craig's arrest for "lewd conduct in a men's room", Republicans have once again put themselves under the microscope. It's become an annual rite of passage for Republicans on Capitol Hill to come under fire for questionable homosexual behavior. And it's funny how it always seems to be the ones who are the most adamantly against gay rights that get busted for these acts.

So who will the next one be? My money's on Saxby Chambliss of Georgia. Why? 'Cause he has such a gay name. And he just looks like the kind of old man who'd like to be peed on by other men.

Monday, August 20, 2007

Keep Off The Strip



Dear Alabama Football Players,

After yet another one of your teammates, Simeon Castille, was arrested last weekend at 2AM on The Strip in T-town, I implore you to refrain from being anywhere near The Strip anytime after 10:00PM and concentrate on annihilating Western Carolina in less than two weeks. With the exception of catching a glimpse of a drunk coed's titties, there is absolutely nothing positive that can happen on The Strip after midnight. Use your brain and just stay the fuck away from there.

Sincerely,

TT Coe