Rumifications from Day 1 At The Beach

- I can't stand what I call "car clusters" on the interstate. See if this sounds familiar: you're driving 80 on cruise control - no one around you, perfect conditions; a group of 3 or 4 cars approach and then hover around you for several miles at inconsistent speeds. You pass them, they pass you, they mess up your pace and you keep having to tap the brake to disengage the cruise control. "Screw this," you say, and floor it to 100 just to get a half mile ahead of these bozos and drive at your own speed by yourself. A few minutes later, they catch up with you again, cluster around you and linger. Why the f**k do people do this?

- Similar scenario: you walk out onto the wide open beach - only a few people out there and plenty of space. You stake out your own spot, away from other people. A young couple saunters out a little later, plopping down 10 yards away. Whatever. Soon afterwards, a family appears out of nowhere, hauling coolers, rafts, chairs, umbrellas and loud children. Where do they decide set up camp? You got it - 10 yards away on the other side. You sit up, look around at the vast empty beach in either direction, turn back to glare at your new neighbors, and wonder why the f**k these people felt it necessary to invade your space. Same thing happenes in movie theaters by the way.

- I'm gonna sound like a hypocrite in light of my last post, but I've had it with the Michael Jackson tributes and retrospectives on every single news and/or cable channel. Enough already. Peace out.

Another GD Michael Jackson Tribute

I hate to pile on with another Michael Jackson tribute but the man deserves it. I’ve often said that I was a fan of his “when he was black”. It’s partially a joke but it is also true. When he was making real soul music, there was no one ever better and for a time, everything he touched was gold. His albums Off The Wall and Thriller are simply two of the greatest albums of all time. If you’re wondering about that, I’d like you to turn off your TV, turn off your cell phone, lock yourself in a room and listen. This is what I did over and over and over again as a kid. Listen to Side One (the first five songs on your CD) of Off The Wall. That sequence of songs – "Don’t Stop Til You Get Enough", "Rock With You", "Working Day And Night", "Get On The Floor" and "Off The Wall" – might be the greatest side of a record ever. Listen to the drums, the handclaps, the rhythm guitar, the percussion – listen closely to it all. What you’re hearing is called a groove, and no one executed it better than Michael did in this phase of his career. Thriller is right up there, too.

After that, it all started going downhill. Bad was just, well, bad, and I don’t WTF he was doing beyond that. But regardless of that or any of his batshit crazyness, there’s no denying that he was a genius. What he and Quincy Jones created during those younger years will never be duplicated. For years I had a recurring daydream that I met Michael and he actually solicited my advice about how to regain his career and become relevant again in music circles. I would tell him this:

“Lose all the sampling and drum machines. Write grooves, write songs the way you used to – in your head, not on a freaking computer. Hire real musicians and have them play real acoustic instruments. Make your music organic again, make it come from your soul. Don’t try to keep up with the latest sounds and trends in music. Do it your way. And if you do, you’ll become huge again, I guarantee it.”

Alas, he never did. But I’ll always remember the way he used to do it, and baby it grooved.

Get Out Of My Life

I have had it with this whole Jon & Kate thing. Until a few months ago, I had no clue who these people were. Then I continued to hear tidbits on the news about this couple who, as I later learned, have a reality show about themselves and their eight kids. Wonderful parenting idea.

Now their marital problems have invaded my life. I can't watch the Today show, read a magazine or a blog without being inundated with updates on this freaking family that I couldn't give two shits about. Unfortunately, there are scores of idiots out there who do care - whose lives are somehow unfulfilled unless they can live vicariously through others. Stay out of my life, Jon & Kate, and please allow your children to grow up normally instead of on everyone's TV sets.

Re-Post

It's hotter than a half-bred fox in a forest fire.
It's hotter than a June bride in a feather bed.
It's hotter than a ginger mill in Hades.
It's hotter than the devil's dick.
It's hotter than a four-balled tom cat.
It's hotter than a flaming bag of turd.
It's hotter than Oprah's underwear during a hot flash.
It's hotter than a snake's ass in a wagon rut.
It's hotter than a two-peckered goat.

And an old favorite...it's hotter than two rats f**king in a wool sock.

My New Favorite Phrase/Description

It's "Batshit crazy". I've been saying it a lot lately. It can be used in just about any sentence, as in:

- "The Octomom is batshit crazy."

- "That dude who shot up the Holocaust Museum is just plain batshit crazy."

- "Sarah Palin needs to STFU - she's batshit crazy!"

Feel free to share these words with your friends and batshit crazy relatives.