Rantin' & Ravin' With TTCoe

Random Thoughts - 9/23/10

2010-09-23T10:46:00.005-04:00

It's been awhile - sorry. A combination of nothing to say and laziness have kept my thoughts hostage. So where are we?

- The Braves. The GD Braves. Why do I continue to allow this team to blueball me year after year after year? I love Bobby Cox and I'll miss him, but dammit if this team doesn't lift my hopes and dreams only to destroy them with a swift backslap to the face. I'm done. Thank God for...

- The Tide. An absolute magnum force of a program right now, even with the current team's drawbacks. Just four years ago I wondered if we'd ever crawl out of the quicksand pit of mediocrity, and look at us now. Nick Saban is the embodiment of badassery. He has chunks of opposing coaches and dumbass beat reporters in his stool.

- New music is practically dead. I didn't put out a Top 10 list at the end of last year because I couldn't come up with 10 albums I even liked. That being said, Crowded House put out one of their finest works this summer, and I saw a "band" the other night (The Black Keys) that really cranked my tractor. I use quotation marks because it really only consists of two members. The guitar/drums duo trend has really become annoying, but the Keys impressed me with their chops and creativity (plus, the fact that I'm a bass player means that I get offended by any band who doesn't feel the need to have one themselves).

- I'm really sick of dudes wearing the Jason Mraz fedora hats. I really don't understand how anyone can look in the mirror and then walk out of the house wearing one of those things. Just completely dorky.

- Yogurt, yogurt everywhere. One day there's a creamery here and a TCBY there, and now all of a sudden there are Yogurt Labs, Yogurt Mountains and Yogurt Whatevers all over the damn place. When did we as a society become so obsessed with DIY yogurt?

Peace out for now.

Fables

2010-07-12T19:02:00.026-04:00

This week marks the 25th anniversary of the release of my personal #1 favorite album of all time - Fables Of The Reconstruction by R.E.M. Wow - 25 years. The summer of 1985 was possibly the darkest period of my life. My parental units were going through a separation, and I had gone away to camp for 6 weeks to be a CIT. I was 15 and already a confused enough kid as it was without throwing in the whole divorce issue. You folks are gonna have to bear with me if you want to get to the end of this post, because it represents what might be the most critical time of my life, albeit not necessarily a happy one.

I knew that Fables was going to be released shortly after my arrival at camp, so I made a buddy promise to record it onto a cassette and mail it to me when it came out (keep in mind that this a long time before downloading music and/or even the advent of CD's). When I finally got my hands on the tape, it never left my Sony Walkman for the rest of the summer. I walked around aimlessly listening to it over and over, mesmerized by the dark and murky sound that I heard (despite this, I did a good enough job for them to ask me back the next summer as a junior counselor). Later on, through interviews with the band, I came to find out that the recording of the album was a dark period for them as well. This certainly came through in the music. R.E.M. had arrived in England to record the album, just a scant few months after coming off the road after 4 years of non-stop touring. Like the band, I felt detached, scared and alone, and Fables either helped or enhanced my mood, depending on the day. Either way, it got me through that summer and many more.

Unlike their previous releases, Fables did not open with a bouncy, upbeat rocker. "Feeling Gravitys Pull" (apostrophe intentionally omitted by the band) was eerie and disjointed, setting the tone for the album with Peter Buck's creepy guitar in the forefront - and topped off by a string quartet, of all things. Next was "Maps And Legends", a brooding, meandering midtempo number that drew inspiration from the legendary GA folk artist, Howard Finster. Where was this album going anyway? Then came the classic one-two punch of "Driver 8" and "Life And How To Live It". "Driver 8" was a quintessential R.E.M. song, complete with minor chords, vivid imagery and "WTF is Michael talking about" lyrics.

Many people have asked me over the years what my favorite song is, and I usually give them a look of disdain, as if they were asking someone to choose their favorite child. But, in all honesty, there's always been one song that I really would have to put above all others, and that is "Life And How To Live It". This song is just it for me. If I had to live the rest of my life with this song looping over and over in my head, I wouldn't complain. The mysterious guitar intro, the melody, the tempo, the lyrics, the background vocals, the looping bass line, the breakdown in the middle, the ending - the whole song struck a chord deep inside of me and has never let go. It is as perfect a song - for me - that has ever been. And, naturally, I had no clue at the time what Michael Stipe was singing about. But, like so many of their other songs, that fact actually worked in my favor, because I interpreted and got exactly what I needed out of that song to apply to what I was feeling and experiencing at the time. I felt, through the few words and phrases I could understand (this was also years before you could just look up lyrics online), that Stipe was speaking to me - that it described a man and his life that had run amok.

"Old Man Kensey" is a dark legend intertwined with an eerie rhythm track. The next song, which kicked off Side 2, came out of left field. At first listen, "Can't Get There From Here" became the band's first "HUH?" song. Here we find R.E.M. gettin' down with some Memphis soul - a coulda/shoulda been hit. "Green Grow The Rushes" is a beautiful song with one of Peter Buck's signature two note guitar melodies (a la "7 Chinese Bros." and "Letter Never Sent" off of Reckoning"). It also contains another signature bit: Michael Stipes "la la la's" leading into a what is best described as a "hanging from the mic for dear life" vocal plea of desperation at the end, which was fairly common back then.

From here, things get interesting. "Kohoutek" is quite a confusing song to listen to without staring at a lyric sheet, as Stipe's vocals are buried deeper in the track than they had ever been before or since. The most murky, dark and mysterious tune on the album, "Kohoutek" causes significant brain swell, especially when listened to in the dark. Next is an almost punk song, at least in terms of tempo. "Auctioneer (Another Engine)", moves at a high speed train's pace before suddenly halting at the stop of a dime. But it's fun as hell to listen to.

If the aforementioned "Life And How To Live It" is my #1-a, then the penultimate track, "Good Advices" is my #1-b. Even though the lyrics were written before the band's trek to England for the album's recording, Stipe wrote of a longing sense of home. The few snippets that I could comprehend, I took to heart: "Home is a long way away...I'd like it here if I could leave and see you from a long way away...At the end of the day, when there are no friends, when there are no lovers, who are you going to call for". Ironically, I didn't want to go home at the time - I wanted to stay where I was. To me, camp was home, and I knew IT would feel like a long way away when I got back to my real home.

The final track is "Wendell Gee", a simple, country-rock song that brings an interesting, yet appropriate closure to what would become the most important album of my life. I've probably listened to this album a thousand times through in the 25 years since its release, and it never gets old. Never. But the fact of the matter is that this album probably ranks as the least favorite for most R.E.M. fans, which has always rankled me. As far as I'm concerned, these folks can take their "Losing My Religion" CD singles and go jump off a cliff. Thanks for indulging me, and I beg your pardon for getting WAY too personal.

T.P.

2010-06-22T18:12:00.007-04:00

Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers are on my personal Mount Everest of legendary artists. They've written and recorded some of the greatest songs and albums in rock history, and are still relevant while making music on their own terms. Not many bands have sustained that kind of career. I've seen them so many times over the years that I've lost count, and they've rocked every time. Now they have a new album and new tour, and I was excited to hear about both. Not so much anymore.

First, I bought/downloaded the new album, Mojo. I immediately thought it sounded pretty cool. But then, as the album unfolded, I thought to myself, "where are the songs?" Almost every song is a long, bluesy jam with little or no real substance. Don't get me wrong, the musicianship is outstanding as always. It's just that the songs weren't very good, at least by Petty's standards. And what surprises me are the overwhelmingly positive reviews from critics and fans alike who are hailing Mojo as Petty's album in years. Huh? I read that TP has listened to a lot of blues overr the last couple of years, which has influenced his writing. Fine. I've immersed myself in jazz over the years, but that doesn't mean I'm trying to re-write Steely Dan's Aja. I just don't get it.

Then I got online to check out the set lists from the first few shows of the tour. Along with a handful of new tunes, the set was sprinkled with songs that have now become annoyingly repetitive (I know this because I've been to at least one show on every tour since '89, except for the last one) - "Free Fallin'", "I Won't Back Down", "Runnin' Down A Dream", "Need To Know", "American Girl", "Breakdown", "Mary Jane's Last Dance", "Don't Come Around Here No More", "You Don't Know How It Feels", etc. Unfortunately, most fans in attendance will expect to hear these classics and cheer like a pack of school girls at a Justin Bieber concert. I, for one, won't be because I'm sitting out this tour. Oh sure, they spit out a "Too Much Ain't Enough" every once in awhile, but these are the same songs that have been played at every show for 20+ years, and I've had enough.

I'm not saying they have to go all obscure on us, but they can at least dig into their massive catalog of hits and mix it up a little. So, Tom, here's a list of songs I propose for this or any future tour, in no particular order:

"Jammin' Me"
"Here Comes My Girl"
"Don't Do Me Like That"
"You Got Lucky"
"Rebels"
"Woman In Love"
"Yer So Bad"
"The Apartment Song"
"Letting You Go"
"Change Of Heart"
"Honey Bee"
"Wake Up Time"
"Into The Great Wide Open"
"Southern Accents"
"Shadow Of A Doubt"
"Swingin'"
"Walls"

I'd give a nut for that show.

Dear Blackberry Users...

2010-06-17T10:23:00.004-04:00

I'm sorry, but your product sucks. After losing my iPhone to a hot tub a few weeks ago, I've been using a Blackberry temporarily until the new iPhone 4 comes out in 168 hours. For years, I've heard "Crackberry" users sing the praises of what they claim is a superior device to all others, especially the iPhone. Having now used both, I must say that the comparing the two is like comparing Pong to a Wii - there is no comparison.

I will go ahead and disclose that I am indeed an Apple snob. Say what you want to about the company's editorial policies or how it limits users to its own native hardware/software, but the bottom line is functionality and ease of use, and the damn Blackberry doesn't come close. It's slow, the apps suck, the scroll ball is annoying, the interface makes no sense, and I can't seem to be able to use a normal browser. I can't tell you how many times I've wanted to throw this object against a wall. If anyone can offer me an intelligent argument about why the Blackberry is better, I'll be happy to listen. And then have you committed.

"Barbecue" Is A Noun

2010-05-27T15:03:00.004-04:00

One of the many annoyances I have with northerners is their licentious use of the word "barbecue". When you cook something on the grill, you are not barbecuing it...you are grilling it. Barbecue is what you get after you cook pork for many hours over low heat. In other words, "barbecue" is a noun, NOT a verb. If you disagree with that, take your tofu-eating ass back to Michigan.

Great Moments In Jackassery: The Gym

2010-05-13T09:04:00.002-04:00

The word "jackassery" may have been coined at some point in our history, but Id' like to think of myself as the genius who came up with it, or at least responsible for its revision. There are many, many elements of jackassery in everyday life, and I'd like to use this forum to point out some of these examples.

Today, I'd like to focus on jackassery at the gym. You've seen, or rather, heard, these guys - the weightlifter who feels the need to grunt rather loudly with every rep./exhale There's nothing more distracting than hearing an "UNGGHH!!" and/or a heavy inhale of air every 5 seconds while you're concentrating on your own workout. I keep looking up, expecting to see either porn or a women's tennis match on the corner TV. I know what you're thinking - "why don't you listen to your iPod to drown out the grunting?" Well, why should I have to do that? These jackasses should take their fellow man into consideration before trying out their best Peter North impression. And to make matters worse, these are the same jackasses who like to lift an inordinate amount of weight while checking themselves out in the mirror.

So chew on that for awhile til next time. Peace out bitches.

Have (Hair) Product, Will Travel

2010-03-31T17:01:00.006-04:00

Last week I attended my umpteenth dental trade show, this time in Atlanta. I don't normally go to these things and I don't particularly enjoy them, but the people watching factor is always at a premium. What has always fascinated me is how everyone seems to knows each other and has their collective finger on the pulse of every tidbit regarding the latest personnel gossip in the industry. It's like a giant traveling circus that migrates from city to city on a regular basis, with everyone in each others business.

Every morning, sales reps from every booth meander up and down the aisles and chronicle the previous night's debauchery out on the town to anyone who will listen. There's also no shortage of strong perfume worn by the ladies as well as hair product placed upon the lids of almost every male that descends upon these shows, presumably in order to cover up the stench and hangover hair of the aforementioned nightly exploits.

Like an amateur 17 year-old drinker, "Dude, I so wasted last night" is a common theme that is overheard from every cheese ball within earshot. And each time, I just stand there and take it all in, gaining wisdom and enlightenment with each listen. Here's to you, tools of the trade shows. May you never wear thin or wear down.

The Latest In WTF - Men's Double Luge

2010-02-18T15:18:00.004-05:00

Last night as I was rocking the house at a local sports bar, I glanced at a TV just in time to catch a Winter Olympic event that I hadn't recalled witnessing before - Men's Double Luge. Regular luge is inscrutable enough as it is - a man in tights, lying flat on a sled while hurling himself down an icy slide. I'm sure there is a considerable amount of skill involved that the layman is not able to see. But I'm sorry, to most of us it's just a dude on a sled trying not to crash.

The doubles thing takes it to a whole new level. As far as women go, I'm like any other male in that I'm all for doubles in anything and everything. But there's something disturbing about watching two men lying that flat on top of each other on a sled (or anything else for that matter). It's like watching Ace & Gary, The Ambiguously Gay Duo, riding along in their penis mobile. You almost expect for these dudes to stand up at the end of their run and ask, "What's everyone looking at?!?", while everyone stares at them in speechless awe.

I Don't Care What Your Child's Name Is or What Sport He/She Plays

2010-02-17T15:19:00.004-05:00

Just sayin'.

The Karaoke Life

2010-02-16T13:36:00.005-05:00

I don't go to karaoke bars very often, and when I do it's usually just to make fun of people (ah, judging strangers - my favorite pastime). Being the musician snob that I am, I sure as hell wouldn't partake in this activity myself. It would take a blood-alcohol level of at least .024. But I still go because the entertainment value is priceless.

Recently I attended a local karaoke venue called Starz (because an 's' would be just too damn customary). And I noticed right off the bat that it wasn't just a bar - it was a community. The whole crowd sang/slurred along with EVERY song that was being "performed" by the patrons, all while high-fiving and clinking beer bottles with each other. I felt somewhat out of place, like I'd just accidentally crashed a wedding by strolling into a banquet hall with "Goldstein Wedding" written on a large sign outside.

It occurred to me that this was their own little world. While the rest of us brazenly make fun of them, these folks take take their own universe seriously. Karaokers remind me of people with mullets - sadly (or funnily, depending on how you look at it), they seem to have no idea that the rest of society mocks them relentlessly. Bless their hearts.

Enough

2010-02-12T09:29:00.003-05:00

Once again it's that time of year when jewelers and florists raise the bar to a level of impossibility for men - V-Day. Retailers such as Jared, Kay and Flowers.com annually spew forth a bevvy of commercials that have about as much realism as a singing frog.

"Annie, why do you have a pants bulge?"

"Oh Susie, it's the diamond necklace that Nick gave me for Valentine's Day to tell me how much he loves me - I like to keep it coiled up next to my vagina. He went to Jared!"

I have to keep a stack of barf bags next to my TV in preparation for this annual sham of fanciful dribble regurgitating from the airwaves. Ladies, we may have the best of intentions and actually sometimes succeed when it comes to romance, but please don't ever expect what happens in these commercials to actually occur in real life.

New Q

2010-02-08T16:31:00.004-05:00

There's a (fairly) new BBQ joint in town that many, including myself, have been drooling over. It's called Saw's BBQ and it's located in the Edgewood area of Homewood, for all you local yokels. As many of you know, I'm a longtime 'Q' connoisseur who knows good shit when he tastes it. With all due respect to Big Bob Gibson's in Decatur, Saw's is the new #1 on my list of favorite Q joints. I've yet to try the ribs but the pork, chicken, sauces and sides are quite simply the best I've ever tasted. This guy, Wilson (SAW = "Sorry Ass Wilson"), knows what the hell he's doing. The meat is cooked to melt-in-your-mouth perfection and is brimming with just the right flavor. It just gets better every time, too. Apparently I'm not alone - the place is packed with more and more people on each subsequent visit. Go and enjoy.

Teeth

2010-02-04T12:05:00.005-05:00

Even before I got into the dental industry, I always made a practice of consistently attending to good oral hygiene. And as much as I hated the 18 months that I endured braces as a gawky 13 year-old, I'm very thankful to now have straight teeth. They may not be supermodel white, but by God, they're properly aligned and even.

Which makes me all the more curious about folks who don't have straight teeth and many others whose teeth are just butt ugly. I realize not everyone can afford certain restorative dental solutions, but everyone should at least be able to have their teeth cleaned twice a year or at least maintain proper oral hygiene on a daily basis with brushing and flossing.

I don't mean to sound preachy, but many people don't realize how much of a turn-off it is to have a mouth like Austin Powers (I know some of you are shocked to hear me say that I've been somewhat picky about anything when it comes to dating). Recently, a girl approached myself and my bandmates at a gig touting herself as a talent scout - a local version of Simon Cowell if you will - and offered to take us on as a client. As she was spouting off her spiel, all I really heard was the "Wah wah wah" sound you hear from adults in a Peanuts cartoon. Why? Because, even though she was fairly attractive, she had the lower half of her #8 incisor (upper right front tooth for you novices) chipped off, and it was all I could do to not stare at this monstrosity.

So come on, people. I implore you to take care of your teeth - you (and me) will be glad you did.

Those Ear Things

2010-01-27T14:40:00.007-05:00

First of all, sorry for being AWOL for the past few months, but the dog ate my blog. Recently, I've noticed more and more young people (I can't believe I just typed "young people" - I'm so friggin' old) sporting those stretched ear lobe studs. Besides the obvious pain one must go through during the process of implanting one of these things, I can't help but wonder if these folks realize just how moronic they appear when viewed in public. I know the above image was done as a joke, but is it really that far off from reality in terms of ridiculousness? I'm all for individualism and the right of self-expression, but I feel sorry for those who unknowingly blur the fine line between being cool and being a tool.

Realizing A Dream

2009-10-30T16:46:00.009-04:00

When I was in 1st grade, I was obsessed with Kiss. Yep, 1st grade. In fact, the first record I ever bought with my own money was Destroyer by Kiss, which I purchased that same year. Eventually, I collected all their albums, studying them carefully as I listened to them over and over. And I was especially fixated on Gene Simmons. I read his letter on the inner sleeve of Alive! intently until I had it memorized, and drove my mom batshit crazy by sticking out my tongue at everyone I passed by. Needless to say, my dream was to be Gene Simmons when I grew up.

That dream will be coming true this Halloween Night when I perform as Gene Simmons at my friend's Kiss-themed Halloween party (KISSHOUSE). This thing is going to be huge, as it has already made the front page of the Tennessean. I have obsessively pored over my costume details for weeks now, trying to get it perfect. Right now, it resembles a disturbing S&M ensemble. I'm hoping that that by the time the wig and make-up are in place, it won't be quite so unnerving. I'll have pictures to post in the next few days. Happy Halloween, bitches!

Tenses - Where Did We Go Wrong?

2009-09-30T10:51:00.007-04:00

In my ever-frustrating world of Grammar Nazi-ism, I've come to notice way too many people who have no concept of tenses in sentence structure. If you're wondering what I'm talking about, just listen to Finebaum or go to Wal-Mart. For example:

"Yesterday, he come out of the house and run down the street." Incorrect

""Yesterday, he came out of the house and ran down the street." Correct

And people wonder what is wrong with our education system. Where did we go wrong as a society? I understand that kids pick up a lot of bad grammar habits from their friends and/or parents. I can't speak for everyone else, but we covered tenses at my elementary school. And don't these children read? Why is it so effing hard to speak correctly?

Random Fleeting Thoughts

2009-09-25T13:59:00.006-04:00

I know it's been awhile. Let's catch up.

The Tide
I don’t want to jinx this year’s team, but damn they’re good. I realize we still haven’t gotten to the meat of the schedule, but McElroy is looking like our most efficient QB since Gary Hollingsworth. Julio is God. And I would rather get sacked by Charles Jefferson than have to fuck with the two headed monsters of Ingram/Richardson or McClain/Hightower. Damn they’re good.

The Fuck?
MacKenzie Phillips, what the hell are you doing? Whether it’s true or not, no one wants the image of you and your father doin’ the grown-up in their head. Personally, I think it’s BS – either way, she comes off looking reeeeally bad. This is nothing more than a whore tactic to sell books.

Banned
Recently, my old band from college, Three Hour Tour played a gig at the “new” Booth in Tuscaloosa. The following week, we were asked to never play there again due to “vulgarities” that were communicated over the mic that evening. Other than telling some chick that her mouth would make a lovely urinal (an oldie but goodie), I don’t recall anything all that offensive coming out of our mouths. It’s a college town for gawd’s sake – let the people speak freely!

A Dream Come True
When I was in first grade, I wanted to be Gene Simmons. Besides Evel Knievel, I thought he was the coolest mofo in the world. After being turned down by my dad to go see them live as a kid, I finally got to see Kiss on their reunion tour in ’96, and once more a few years ago. Now I have the opportunity of a lifetime. Next month, a bandmate buddy will be throwing a huge Kiss-themed Halloween party. Headlining the event will be a Kiss tribute band with none other than yours truly as freaking Gene Simmons. I received my Gene wig in the mail the other day and I’ve got platform boots arriving next week. Game on, bitches!

Drinking, Charles Barkley, Elephants and More Drinking

2009-08-24T18:12:00.007-04:00

The dreaded 40th birthday has arrived and I must say that I am proud of myself for accomplishing my goal of getting s**tfaced this past weekend. It started with a bang Friday night when me and my PharmHand bandmates arrived at Greybar to find out that Charles Barkley was in town and might be stopping by at some point. Apparently, he and the owner are big buddies. I filed that tidbit away and went about my business of rocking the house and drinking many brewskis.

Finally, around 1AM, in walks Charles Barkley himself. It just so happened that we were between songs, so I took it upon myself to call out Sir Charles over the microphone. "IT'S ABOUT F**KING TIME YOU GOT HERE!," I hollered as he walked in the door. He stopped briefly and turned toward the stage with a "Did I really just hear what I think I heard?" look on his face. "Oh shit," I thought to myself, and turned toward the rest of the band. "Um, okay - one, two, three..." Fortunately, nothing came of it. At 2AM, we were in the parking lot, ready to go home. I asked my faithful bandmate, Patrico Suave, if he was going to Buffalo Wild Wings to hang with our buddies there for a late night drink. Three beers, two Jaeger Bombs and two hours later, my head finally hit the pillow. I felt like ass on Saturday as a result. But I had to recover for...

Three Hour Tour Saturday night. We were set to play at our home away from home at The Brick in Decatur with a special guest - Steve Boyd of The White Animals, a musical idol from my youth. The shots started at 9:15 and continued through the night: Goldschlager, Jaegermeister, Maker's Mark - it was a plethora of libations. By the time we had made it to the second set, I was plastered and my liver was drowning. The third set doesn't exist for me, since I have no recollection of it whatsoever.

Today was the big day and I pulled into the parking lot at work to find a collection of elephants and footballs, as pictured above, from the company that displays those gay flamingos. Regardless, I received many lovely birthday wishes and gifts from many friends and family members. It's over now, so I can quit my bitching and get on with it. I'm still paying the price for my drunkenness over the weekend, but it was damn worth it. Peace out, bitches!

Old Concerts, Part 2

2009-08-14T15:09:00.014-04:00

One of the greatest live bands I have ever seen, The Replacements made frequent appearances in these parts during the late 80's until their breakup in '91. I actually saw them a total of seven times, the most interesting being the opening slot with Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers in the summer of '89. I'll never forget this show, which was in Nashville. The Mats (as they were affectionately refferred to by their fans) had already endured a not so friendly Tom Petty fan base, who were simply not prepared for the contrast of The Mats' sloppiness compared to the professionalism of The Heartbreakers. Not only did the boys walk out onstage wearing dresses, they also proceeded to flip off the crowd while being booed. Classic.

Like The Police, Prince and VH, I was lucky enough to catch U2 at their absolute peak on the Joshua Tree tour. Despite having nosebleed seats at The Omni (so high up that we resorted to renting binoculars), it was still an incredible show.

In the summer of '89, my friend Dave S. and I did something I had never done and haven't done since - camped out for concert tickets. The Stones playing at Legion Field in B-ham was a HUGE deal at the time, but not as big of a deal as the face value of the tickets - $30.00! I know that sounds paltry considering how much concert tickets are these days but believe me, it was a big deal. Naturally, we didn't give a rat's ass. It was the Stones! The concert was truly a religious experience for me. I couldn't believe I was standing there watching The Rolling Freaking Stones. It was an out of body feeling that I've only had one other time at a concert - seeing Paul McCartney in '02.

I saw the Stones at Legion Field again in '94 but it just wasn't the same as seeing them for the first time. The other ticket stub from London was sent to me by my friend, Dave C., who saw them at Wembley Stadium on the Urban Jungle Tour of 1990.

The Worst Birthday

2009-08-13T12:23:00.005-04:00

As the impending doom of turning 40 approaches, I'm reminded of another dreadful birthday from years ago - my 13th birthday. My friend, "W", had a patch of woods behind his house and the afternoon before the big day, he led my back there to see something he had hidden under some leaves. That "something" was a Hustler magazine. Now, I had sneaked into my parents' bedroom on several occasions to peak at my father's Playboys and had gazed with giddy excitement at the photos inside (and the articles of course). But nothing had prepared me for the pure bliss of Hustler's graphic shots of nether regions. I mean, I was 13 after all.

I sat on a tree stump and stared in amazement at each page with ecstasy while "W" took a leak behind a tree. Suddenly, there was buzzing all around me. Alas, I had sat/stepped on a yellow jacket's nest and now they were wailing on my horny ass. I threw the magazine down and started running while flailing away at the swarming insects as they stung me all over. By the time I made it home, I had been stung over 20 times, and there were still several live ones stuck in my hair. I ended up in the bath tub the rest of the day with meat tenderizer rubbed all over my body. Needless to say, I was not a happy camper.

My birthday party was scheduled the next day at Holiday Skating Rink, and the show went on as planned. Unfortunately, I was unable to do anything but stand at the door and wave stiffly as all my friends entered and proceeded to have all kinds of fun rollerskating to the hits of the day. I was miserable and in pain. I didn't tell my mom the real reason we were in the woods until years later. As with all the other incidents I disclosed over time, she just frowned, shook her head and wondered just where in the hell she had gone wrong.

Old Concerts, Part 1

2009-08-10T17:41:00.024-04:00

My first concert was The Doobie Brothers in 1977 when I was in second grade, complete with the great Jeff "Skunk" Baxter jamming away with headphones on while sitting in a chair. The next shows I attended over the next several years included The Bee Gees, The Village People, Christopher Cross, Loverboy and The Police. At some point, I decided to start saving my ticket stubs, some of which you're about to see. I must disclose that I stole the idea for this post from my Spitball Army comrade. Sorry/thanks, Fred.

Last year marked the first R.E.M. tour since the '84 Reckoning tour that I didn't see at least one show. Both the '84 and '85 concerts were at the old Foster Auditorium in front of about 1000 people. The '85 show was special because we hung around afterward and met all of the band except Mike Mills. Peter Buck was wearing blue suede shoes and I decided right then that he was the coolest person in the world. I got each one to sign the back of my ticket stub, as you can see.

I was lucky enough to see Prince at his peak on the Purple Rain tour. The show went so well that a second show was immediately booked for an unusual Sunday afternoon show two weeks later at the same venue. I saw Prince again a few years ago and he was once again amazing - like he hadn't aged at all.

That same year I had the privilege of seeing another giant artist at their peak, the mighty Van Halen on their 1984 tour - their last with David Lee Roth until reuniting almost 25 years later. They absolutely f**king rocked that night. I remember buying a tour t-shirt at the show and wearing it to school the next day without washing it, wondering why it smelled so smoky and putrid. The next time I saw them in '86, they were fronted by Sammy Hagar. It was also the night I almost died thanks to Clark Cooper, who drove his mom's station wagon at 95mph down Red Mtn. Expressway.

Believe it or not, there was a time when Phil Collins wasn't necessarily considered cool, but he was not yet considered uncool.

Speaking of uncool, Bryan Adams became just that the night I saw him play "Summer of '69" and sing the lyric "Back in the summer of '85!" during the last chorus. I don't know who was more dorky at that moment, Adams or the thousands of tools who roared with approval.

This was the first concert that I was able to drive to with friends after getting my drivers license two months earlier. And what a pairing! About the only thing I remember was Night Ranger rising up from under the stage amid thick fog before launching into their opening number, "You Can Still Rock In America". Yes you can.

This was Sting's first solo tour after years of success with The Police, who I was fortunate enough to see on the Synchronicity tour. Great show, weird venue (Boutwell).

That Guy

2009-08-07T16:26:00.009-04:00

In light of the unfortunate passing of John Hughes, I'm reminded of some of the great "who's that guy?" character actors that he utilized in most of his films. Here are some of my favorites:

J.T. Walsh

He was the man. J.T. was at his best when playing a low-key prick, as in The Client, Backdraft and Breakdown. But he also stole the show in money roles such as Blue Chips, Outbreak and my favorite, as Lt. Col. Markinson in A Few Good Men. Playboy once called him "everybody's favorite scumbag". A true American actor, Walsh died in 1998.

Paul Gleason

Gleason, like Walsh, was another classic actor best known for playing a series of laughable pricks. Probably best remembered as Richard Vernon in The Breakfast Club, Gleason played a series of similar roles in Johnny Be Good and Die Hard. Unfortunately, he also died a few years ago.

M. Emmet Walsh

Walsh has had a long and versatile career playing a variety of characters. He won several independent film awards for his private dick role in The Coen Brothers' first film, Blood Simple. My personal favorite films of his are as the can-hating sniper in The Jerk, the probing doctor in Fletch, and the bumbling sports fan attorney in Wildcats.

Ted Levine

If there's any doubt who this guy is, all you gotta know is "Buffalo Bill". His Jame Gumb character from Silence Of The Lambs is one of the most memorable yet disturbing movie villains of all time. These days, he's best known for his role as Leland Stottlemeyer on the show Monk. In between, he's been in such films as Heat and Switchback.

Barry Corbin

With his Texas twang and his authoritative presence, Corbin was memorable in many appearances over the years. His breakthrough performance was as Uncle Bob in the classic, Urban Cowboy. He also contributed mightily to Stir Crazy, Wargames and later in the TV hit, Northern Exposure. More recently, he played a key role in the Best Picture Winner, No Country For Old Men.

Pregger Parking

2009-08-06T13:39:00.007-04:00

What is the deal with the pregnant/new mother parking at grocery stores? Is this fair? I don't think so. And before you women go off on me, think about this. When have you ever seen a pregnant woman carrying items to her car anyway? Stop thinking about it - you haven't. Pregnant women (and many women in general) utilize the service of bag boys/men helping them take grocery items to their cars. It hasn't happened yet, but I'm just waiting on the first female to chew me out in the parking lot for violating this request, which is what it is - a request. I challenge anyone to find a written law or ordinance that legally allows this entitlement. Unless men are granted similar parking privileges for recent hernia surgery, scrotal trauma, or something along those lines, then I call bulls**t on this one.

Aural Overkill

2009-08-01T14:40:00.004-04:00

Why do so many restaurants have crappy music pumping through their sound systems? The ones that are trying to be urban hip are the worst offenders - Surin West is a prime example. Instead of a nice, relaxing background of jazz or mellow acoustic sounds, diners are continuously subjected to some of the worst pulsating techno-dance bewailing in all the world. Which industry geniuses out there decided that this particular genre would be effective for people trying to eat a decent meal? It's not a European transient lounge - it's a freaking restaurant. Let us eat in peace. Please.

One Month To Go

2009-07-24T17:25:00.003-04:00

...until life, as I know it, is over. While most of you are caught up in the countdown until college football season, I've been dreading the end of August. Why? Because it's the end of my 30's. I will be turning 40 freaking years old one month from today. I don't want to hear any comments about how it really isn't that bad because you know what? It is. Just ask my mother - I actually yelled at her recently for reminding me for the 1000th time that I'm "about to turn 40." So bring on the ball busting and the old person jokes. I might as well get used to it as I enjoy my final month of youth.

TT's Guide To Starting A Cover Band, Part One

2009-07-10T16:35:00.012-04:00

Having played in many bands over the years, I’ve gained much experience and knowledge in the area of performing. And while I had a couple of stints in bands that worked on “making it” with original material, the majority of these years (especially the past decade) has been spent whoring myself in countless cover bands. Wanting to set your mind into starting a cover band? I think U better close it and let me guide U…

Know the song, don’t learn the song

“What’s the difference?” you might ask. Many people make the mistake of concentrating solely on playing the song – the chords, the lyrics, the ending, etc. But if you aren’t familiar with the song, you’ll forget the little things. Is the solo section 4 bars or 8? Is the bridge after the second chorus or the third? LISTEN to the damn song all the way through over and over without an instrument on your lap, without listening to YOUR part. KNOW the song so when you’re playing it, you automatically know where to go when.

T - - E - - M - - P - - O

If your drummer can’t keep a beat or plays too fast, you’re screwed. Might as well just forget it and quit before the first practice is over, because he’s gonna lead you down a path of putrid aural chaos. Having played with some of the best drummers around, I’ve been spoiled. There’s nothing more frustrating than a sucky drummer. Too many yahoos spend an inordinate amount of time playing badass fills and rushing to the next cool section of a song. Mr. Jackson said it best - Relax your mind…lay back and groove with mine.

Be versatile

Don't be a band that just plays between the lines. Find some guys who have an ear for music and can play requests on the fly. There's nothing wrong with saying no to requesters or at least asking them to show a tit or two, but be prepared when the hot girls make requests for gay songs you wouldn't necessarily be caught dead performing otherwise.

Leave them wanting more

There's nothing more pathetic than a band who plays an overly looooong third set in front of four drunks who keep asking for "Sweet Caroline" or "Sweet Home Alabama". Know when the party's over and step away while the fire's still hot. There's nothing wrong with leaving the audience wanting more...

I'll offer more hot tips in a future post.

Kids With Mohawks - Why?

2009-07-05T10:04:00.003-04:00

This is a phenomenon that is growing like a weed, because I've noticed several of these poor children on the beach this week. I'm not talking about teenagers but small children! For the love of everything good and holy, why would any parent allow their child to have a freaking Mohawk haircut? Not only is it classless, but it's just bad parenting. And yes, I know I'm not a parent. But, by God, I know I'd be better than any schmuck who'd let their kid out of the house looking like a Travis Barker mini-me. What's next, tats and piercings? Serenity now!

Beach Tools

2009-07-03T09:51:00.007-04:00

When choosing a spot on the beach, I like to be fairly isolated - I like my own space. Earlier this week it was pretty easy but as the week has winded down, more folks have shown up and set up camp in their own spots. There are now more umbrellas and chairs, including a tall pole with an American flag and a Univ. of Alabama flag underneath it.

Yesterday, I walked out and discovered that a group of tools had erected their own Neverland right next to our stuff. There was a 10x10 LSU tent with a bunch of chairs and towels strewn around it. A group of douchebag clones were gathered - twentysomething guys holding beers (along with their dicks), wearing visors, standing around talking about intellectual topics such as NASCAR, animals they've killed and what they bought on their last trip to Home Depot. Their shitty music was blasting from underneath the tent, deafening the other beachgoers around them.

I decided to relinquish my space and move a few feet beyond our original spot. That's when one of the tools walked over with a small orange flag and said, "Hey man - is this yours?"

"No, but it was here yesterday. I don't know who it belongs to," I said.

"Yeah, we ought to use it to cover up that Alabama stuff over there."

I wasn't sure I had heard him correctly. "What?"

"We need to cover up that damn Alabama flag over there."

"Um, yeah, I went there,", I said, making my annoyance obvious to this jackass.

"Oh, well we're all all Auburn grads and our wives went to LSU," said the genius.

I looked past him and scanned his buddies shooting the breeze next to their tent.

"Nice pairing," I snickered, with conspicuous disdain. I picked up my stuff and proceeded to relocate to spot a good distance away, making it clear that I didn't want any part of their group or any pissing contest over SEC affiliation. They spent the rest of the day tossing the frisbee and frattin' it up with their Tigerettes in tow.

Rumifications from Day 1 At The Beach

2009-06-28T10:32:00.007-04:00

- 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

2009-06-26T09:41:00.006-04:00

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

2009-06-23T09:59:00.005-04:00

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

2009-06-19T17:37:00.001-04:00

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

2009-06-12T13:59:00.004-04:00

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.

You Gotta Love Old People

2009-05-21T09:54:00.007-04:00

This morning I went to Panera Bread Co. to get one (okay, two) of their warm fluffy bagels. I was standing in line behind an older couple (late 60's to early 70's) who had ordered two coffees and were not pleased with the cup sizes they were presented with.

"Wait, this is the size we ordered? We wanted small," said the old fart, er, man.

"I'm sorry, I though you wanted regular sized coffee," replied the girl behind the counter. She held up the two cups. The small size was only slightly smaller - perhaps four ounces. The man indicated that he wanted the small.

"Dude, don't fill the cup all the way or just don't drink it all," I thought to myself.

"Would you like the small instead?" asked the patient Panera girl.

"Yes, that's what I wanted."

"Do you want me to refund the difference? It's 22 cents."

Apparently he had already paid for his coffee and breakfast.

"Yes."

Are you freaking kidding me?

"Ok, I'll need your card to run the transaction."

You're going to make her go through a whole credit card transaction for a 22 cent refund? I'll bet the bank's gonna love that when they read their daily report.

I almost stepped forward to offer the man a quarter just to shut him up, but somehow I knew it would be to no avail. As Butthead used to giggle to himself, "Old people. Huh hah huh hah."

I'm A Murderer

2009-05-20T12:41:00.004-04:00

Something terrible happened the other day while taking a casual Sunday commute. I was driving on a through way past a golf course when I came upon a deep dip in the road. I slowly drove through it and as I was coming out of the dip I saw a mother duck and her ducklings waddling across the road just at the top of the rise. I slammed on my brakes but it was too late. As I rolled through, I prayed to God that I didn't run over any of them but I knew I wouldn't be that lucky. I looked in my rear view mirror and sure enough, I had flattened one of the ducklings and halfway flattened another one. My heart sank - I felt terrible. And there was nothing I could do at that point.

Not that I aim for them, but I've run over squirrels and possums many times and have gotten over the guilt within a mile or two. Not this time. I still feel guilty. So technically this means that I've committed one and a half counts of duckslaughter. I'm already going to hell, so it's not like this one incident is going to determine my fate. But it still sucks.

Ultimate Gayness

2009-05-15T09:31:00.006-04:00

Is it possible for something to be (supposedly) badass and gay at the same time (not that there's anything wrong with that)? Let's examine this. At my weekly sports bar gig, there are a couple of TV's that show Ultimate Fighting (or MMA or whatever the eff you want to call it), and it's all I can do to keep from spitting out my beer from laughter when I glance up and witness these tough guys grappling around the ring like Brokeback Cowboys in pretzel positions. I hate to break it to them, but prancing around like Buffalo Bill hiding his peen is more of a manly act than this. Find a more audacious sport, fellas. Like hopscotch.

"I only have some knowledge that the language of your country"

2009-05-13T09:21:00.005-04:00

I have multiple Hotmail accounts due to the various MySpace pages for all of my bands. Every once in awhile I randomly receive messages from foreign chicks searching aimlessly for a mate. Like a teenage boy fumbling with a bra strap, their fledgling attempts at the English language are quite often amusing and entertaining. Of course, my mother is so desperate for any of her three sons to marry, she'd probably encourage me to respond to the one who sent this to me just last night:

Hello,
I was engaged in the work of beauty, I personality moderate person, I beautiful image of icing on the cake for my career, but who has never married. I like foreign men humor, romantic, generous, so the men would like to do with friends or get married, you may have to wait for my people? I like beauty, travel, swimming, listening to music. I only have some knowledge that the language of your country, I would like to know more about you, because I usually relatively busy, if not mind, you can go to the following address my private wrote to me the address below: http://www.-----.html
(Direct open this link, you can find me, Free,and I often open letter here to watch a friend. There are more private photos I) I'm looking forward to you for your letter.

Does that usage of nouns, verbs and adverbs get any prettier? I think not.

An Idiot Spreading Wisdom

2009-05-08T11:45:00.007-04:00

We have a young whippersnapper at work who comes in part-time after getting out of school in the afternoon. The other day he was bemoaning the fact that he's been "talking to" two girls and can't decide which one to proceed in asking out on a date. And he was asking for advice about what to do, as if I was some sort of sage guru of love. First of all, anyone who knows me is cognizant of the fact that seeking dating advice from me is ludicrous and counterproductive. Secondly, there is the small matter of a fact of life that we cannot control and that I imparted on this young man: that all men are idiots.

There are many levels and layers of idiocy that we as men travel through during our lifetime. As kids, we're simply oblivious to the outside world and the consequences of our thoughts and actions. But as we reach our teen years, it turns into what I call "complete f***ing idiocy". It morphs over time and through the years into different categories - incorrigible idiocy, unadulterated idiocy, irreparable idiocy, and so on. By the time we die, we're just plain "idiots". Men are idiots in any and all scenarios, whether it's school, family, or work. But nothing brings out the true colors of our idiocy like dealing with the opposite sex. Women are our Kryptonite, causing detrimental harm to our brain functionality as well as our collective psyche. They make us do and say things that we would never, for the life of us, attempt to do in any normal situation. This is the power that women have over us, and there is nothing we can do to prevent it.

Once I explained this to him, he gazed at me with a blank stare of confusion. "Poor bastard," I thought to myself. "He has no idea."

This Week's Grammar Lesson

2009-05-06T14:29:00.005-04:00

I've always been a bit of a spelling & grammar Nazi. Today I was reminded of a common f-up that many people make regarding the use of the word "alumni". Folks, the word "alumni" is plural and "alumnus" is singular. If you are referring to yourself only, you should say, "I am an alumnus of The University of Alabama." If you are an alumnus who thinks you're an alumni, then you shouldn't have become an alum in the first place. Let's keep our eye on the ball, shall we? Toodles.

"Get In The Hole!"

2009-04-13T17:11:00.002-04:00

Anyone who has watched golf tournaments on TV has heard this annoying phrase shouted ad nauseam by dorky link losers who are in attendance. I watched The Masters yesterday with intrigue – it was certainly a doozy. But I grew increasingly exasperated by these idiots who wouldn’t shut up after every shot. “Get In The Hole!” is to golf what “Free Bird!” is to live bands. And it’s one thing to do it after a putt while standing around a green. But these morons will holler it while standing beside a tee box on a par 5. I propose that anyone who shouts this phrase be shot on sight. Or at least be tossed off the premises.

Josh

2009-04-11T10:05:00.006-04:00

My cousin, Josh Dawson, finally lost his 4 year battle with cancer yesterday, passing away at 36. Josh was one of the most kind and gentle souls I have ever known. He was a loving husband to his dear wife, Bonnie, and as good of a son, brother or friend that you could ask for. He was also a brilliant musician and one of the most talented guitar players my ears have had the pleasure of listening to.

Josh and Bonnie's wedding in Steamboat Colorado five years ago is to this day the most fun and special weekends I've ever had. It was a beautiful occasion when everything came together perfectly - the families, the setting, the weather, etc. This has already been a trying year for me, as I've already lost someone dear to me. But I know Josh is in a better place now and is no longer in pain. I will always love and miss him.

Songs That Should Die A Painfully Slow Death, Pt. 1

2009-04-09T16:03:00.011-04:00

Everyone has their own mental list of songs that induce nausea whenever they are played on the radio or anywhere else. As many of you may be shocked to know, I indeed have my own list. Here are but a few of these gems, in no particular order:

1. Missing You - John Waite

This song overstayed (overplayed?) its welcome within months of its release in 1985. And radio is still torturing us with it today. It's an interesting paradox since Waite actually churned out one of my favorite songs of the 80's, Change.

2. Drift Away - Dobie Gray

While not actually a bad song, this ear monster has been so incessantly played on radio over the years, it long ago lost its relevance on classic rock radio and has successfully made the transition to the Geritol generation "oldies" radio format.

3. The Joker - Steve Miller Band

I could really insert any Steve Miller hit in this slot. People still love this song and act like a complete ass whenever it is played by any crappy cover band. If you don't believe me, watch. Speaking of which...

4. Brown-Eyed Girl - Van Morrison

The grandaddy of all irritating and overplayed songs, this ranks up there with Freebird as the most annoyingly requested song of any bar band. 'Nuff said.

5. Walking In Memphis - Mark Cohn

Over the years, I've had more than a few people attempt to convince me just how wonderful this song is. It's not. Turn it off.

6. Life Is A Highway - Tom Cochrane

This song was nettlesome from the moment I heard it. Stupid melody, stupid lyrics - which made it all the more frustrating when I found out later that Cochrane was originally the lead singer in Red Rider, who cranked out a pretty cool song in the 80's, "Lunatic Fringe".

7. American Pie - Don McLean

My mother swears that this was my favorite song as a toddler. I can't imagine why. Don should have hired an editor - the damn song has about 48 verses.

Energy = Ass

2009-04-06T18:21:00.004-04:00

I'm a daily coffee drinker but sometimes, for one reason or another, coffee isn't an option and I'm forced to find an alternative. Today I tried a Monster Energy drink. This is after trying an Amp Energy drink a couple of weeks ago. And I have partaken in the occasional Red Bull as well. Besides offering an instant burst of go-go, they all have one other thing in common - they all taste like ass. Why is that? All these different brands and they taste EXACTLY the same. And there are a thousand of these damn things on the market. I wish I had been a fly on the wall when these ad wizards came up with the formula. It's like they peed in a jar of cough syrup and stirred it with a stick of black licorice. I think I've consumed my last one. For now.

My Shower

2009-03-25T22:23:00.005-04:00

After putting it off for several months, I finally got a new hot water heater last week. For awhile now, taking a shower has been a race against time to see which comes first - getting my soap, shampoo and shaving done or the hot water running out. Now I'm able to stand under the hot running water for as long as I want without even the tiniest drop of cold water hitting my skin. I'm even seeing something that I haven't glimpsed in my bathroom in a long time - steam. Ah, it's the little things.

A Picture Says A Thousand... Actually One Word: Loser

2009-02-26T09:59:00.004-05:00

I happened to glance outside after opening my garage door this morning and did a double take when I saw this truck parked across the way. Did this guy really affix that in his back window? You mean to tell me that he actually drives around with that on his vehicle?

90125 - A Forgotten Classic

2009-02-25T14:12:00.006-05:00

Yes's 1983 album, 90125, has been on steady play lately on my iPod as I have come to appreciate it more and more over the years. And yet, the album almost never happened. By 1982, Yes had all but faded into oblivion with poor sales and squabbling band members. When relative newcomer and musical genius Trevor Rabin joined forces with Yes bassist Chris Squire to form a new band, they decided to call themselves Cinema. Soon after, Yes vocalist Jon Anderson as well as former members Tony Kaye and Alan White joined the fray to become what was ultimately a new Yes album. At that time, I had recently discovered the band, and especially enjoyed their classics, Fragile and The Yes Album.

Despite the massive success of its singles, "Owner Of A Lonely Heart" and "Leave It" (thanks to the song's "groundbreaking" upside-down video), the strength of this disc lies in the rest of the album tracks. "Hold On" and "It Can Happen" anchor side one before giving way to the powerful yet disjointed time signature of "Changes". Side Two was effective as well, turning 90125 into a different sounding yet timely rock classic. Often brushed aside as utter crap by Yes fans and prog rock purists, 90125 was instantly accessible upon its release. Were the videos cheesy? Yes. Were the outfits and the hairdos tacky? Sure. Was the tour pompous and overblown? Of course. But 90125 stands the test of time and rocks as much if not more than any album from the 80's.

Mother's Milk

2009-02-23T14:06:00.005-05:00

When I was a freshman in college 20 years ago, I had a buddy, Murff, whose liquor of choice was scotch. Being green at the time in the ways of sipping quality liquor, I had never tried it. One night I decided to have nip to see what the fuss was all about and to see if I had a taste for this particular libation. I didn't. I decided that scotch whiskey was no friend of mine and that I would stick with the Kentucky bourbon/Tennessee whiskey families of brown liquor.

That all changed this past weekend when I attended the aforementioned Murff's wedding in Memphis. There was a scotch tasting table set up at the reception and decided it would be a fine time to re-visit this liquid delicacy to see if perhaps my palette, if not my attitude, had changed over time. Boy had it ever. I tried two different brands and decided that Glenmorangie was to my liking. Before I knew what was happening, I had turned into Frank The Tank ("It's so good...Once it hit's your lips, It's so good!"). I ended up drinking two glasses on the rocks and another glass of a different brand (only because they had run out of Glenmorangie). And so, lo and behold, I'm now officially a Scotch Man at 39 years-young. Next thing you know, I'll be smoking a pipe while wearing a velvet dinner jacket.

I Love Everybody

2009-02-08T10:13:00.005-05:00

During this trying week, I've become extremely nostalgic and appreciative of the friends that I have, yet disappointed in myself for having lost touch with so many. I've basically been in "I Love You, Man" mode and I think it's starting to drive folks crazy (including myself). Losing a friend, especially one who was as young and had as much to live for as Kathryn, is tough. But it's made me realize a few things. For one, it made me think of Dale Murphy.

Dale Murphy was an all-star for the Atlanta Braves in the late 70's into the 80's. He was a shining star on a horrible team during an era of futility for the franchise. Not only did he put up Hall of Fame numbers (yet he's still inexplicably not in Hall); he had more character and class than any of his peers. The team was a perennial cellar dweller with the exception of one hopeful season. In 1982, The Braves did the unthinkable - they won their division and made the playoffs. Years later, I heard a story from the late Braves broadcaster, Skip Caray, that I have never forgotten and that speaks volumes about the kind of person Murphy was/is. The team clinched the division on a west coast road trip and had a long flight back to Atlanta. During the flight, Murphy got out of his seat and went to the back of the plane. He then proceeded to approach each and every one of his teammates and remind them of a play that they had made that season which had gotten them where they were.

"Hey Raffy, remember that diving catch you made against the Cardinals in June that stopped a big inning? We wouldn't be here if it wasn't for that."

"Hey Gene, remember striking out the side in the ninth against the Dodgers last month that won the game for us? We wouldn't be here if it wasn't for that."

"Hey Chris, remember the game winning home run you had against Houston? We wouldn't be here if it wasn't for that."

Dale Murphy was a selfless leader who cared more about the team than himself, and he wanted everyone on that plane to realize the contribution they had made to his own, as well as the team's, success.

Now am I comparing myself to Dale Murphy? Hell no. That man has more character and class in his toenails that I'll ever have. I'll be the first to admit that I have issues and character flaws. But I will say this - I love my friends. And it's because of them that I have at least some amount of good in me. Even the ones that I haven't seen or spoken to in a long time, I still think about and miss dearly. People give me shit about having a thousand Facebook friends (which I certainly deserve). But, like Dale Murphy, I can point to each one of them, Facebook or otherwise, and tell you how that person has affected me as well as influenced or shaped my life in a positive way. If you're reading this and you're a friend of mine, you should already know that. I am and always will be fiercely loyal to my friends, albeit sometimes to a fault. If that's considered a flaw, I can live with that and continue to work on the other obvious ones.

Ok, after two downer posts I promise now to get back to our regularly scheduled programming of things that are weird. hilarious or just piss me off in general. Thanks for indulging me.

Kathryn

2009-02-03T14:46:00.005-05:00

Last Thursday I lost a dear old friend of mine, Kathryn Hayes Calhoun. Kathryn and I used to be camp counselors together, and I had not seen her in many years. But we had re-connected on Facebook in recent months, and I was happy to see that she had a lovely family with three young children. I spent nine summers at the aforementioned camp, with some of those having an underlying misery despite all the good times and good friends. This was due to the strain of my parents’ divorce during my teen years. The summers of ’85-’89 were the tough ones for me. Although I stayed home from camp during the summer of ’89 to be with my girlfriend (who, naturally, subsequently dumped me that June), there was tragedy at camp that summer as three four kids that I knew very well were in a serious car accident - two of whom were killed. I was also arrested for (brilliantly) possessing a fake ID while on the way to visit camp the very next week. Good times indeed.

Which brings us to the summer of 1990. I was back at camp as a senior counselor, along with a terrific group of guys and girls, including Kathryn, who bonded very effectively. I already knew Kathryn fairly well, although we had never worked together at the same time. But we became really good friends that summer, and spent many hours laughing together. In fact, she was always laughing or smiling. She had sass as well as a beautiful spirit. I’ve racked my brains over the past few days trying to remember a single time when she was ever pissed off and I just can’t (although I’m certain she had her moments). She was one of the most kind and thoughtful people I’ve ever known. That summer of 1990 was, and is to this day, the best summer of my life. I miss all those guys very much - Susan, Harriet, Barrett, Noel, David, Mary Ellen, Bert, Mary Virginia, Ross and many others - they’ll never know how much they meant and still mean to me. Losing Kathryn has reminded me of that. I wish so much that I could call Kat right now – I still vividly remember the tone of her voice and, of course, her laugh. We kept in touch for awhile and I even went to see her while she was at UGA. But we lost touch eventually. I’m going to regret for a long time having lost touch with her over those years. From now on, I’m going to do a better job of keeping up with the others from that summer.

I went to Kathryn’s funeral yesterday and, like two hundred other people, had to stand outside the church during the service – it was a full house. That’s only a small hint of the effect she had on those of us who were so lucky and privileged to have known her. The sight of Kathryn’s three children following their mother’s casket into the church yesterday is a haunting image that I’ll never get out of my head. At one point, her youngest daughter looked up from the shoulder of the woman who was carrying her and I saw Kathryn’s face in her – she looked so much like her. I’ll miss Kathryn dearly.

Call Me Un-American...

2009-01-25T09:43:00.005-05:00

...but count me as apparently the only American who has never liked the song, Sweet Caroline, by Neil Diamond. In fact, I hate it - everything about it. The lyrics, the melody, the "bam bam bam" in the chorus, the "So Good, So Good, So Good" repetition, the mindless way people dance and sing along to it anytime it is played, whether at a bar or a sports arena. And speaking of sports arenas, what is the origin of this song being a staple at Red Sox games? And why in the hell has it carried over to other sports venues (specifically to Coleman Coliseum, where I was forced to tolerate it yesterday)? While others smile with giddiness whenever it's played over a PA system, I have pangs of vomit inducing nausea. And anytime I tell anyone how much I abhor this song, they look at me as if I've just called their mother a whore. Don't get me wrong. I love me some Neil - just not this tune. Is there anyone else out there who has the same sense of revulsion that I do for this repetitious ditty?

Become A Judge, Get A TV Show

2009-01-22T09:35:00.003-05:00

Is it just me or are there now a dozen court TV shows? One day I go to sleep and there's The People's Court. The next day I wake up and there's Judge Judy, Judge Mathis, Judge Alex, Judge Joe Brown, Judge Karen, Judge Mils Lane, Judge Maria Lopez, Judge Hatchett, and now even a gay judge - Judge David Young. If you own a black robe, you get to mediate a televised binding arbitration hearing. And don't get me started on the dickweed plaintiffs and defendants, who are apparently castoffs from The Jerry Springer Show. I miss the good ole days of the aforementioned People's Court with Judge Wapner. Judge Wapner was not a goofball like the others - Joseph Wapner was a badass and didn't take crap from anyone in his courtroom. Wapner rules.

No, We Should Say No To Her

2009-01-17T10:00:00.004-05:00

I saw a news item the other day that Taylor Swift is going to do a guest spot on one of my favorite shows, CSI. Great. It seems that this little teenage diva is everywhere lately. She's number one on the album charts and has been on every music awards show, regardless of genre (she's supposed to be a country artist), SNL, The Today Show and The Golden Globes, as well as countless others that I'm sure I've missed. I don't know who her agent is, but they've obviously been working overtime to make sure their client wins the Attention Whore award. But Taylor is too young and stupid to see what is inevitably coming (if it hasn't already): backlash. She'd better enjoy it while she can because from what I've seen and heard, she's riding a wave that is definitely NOT being carried by talent. Hopefully, it'll be sooner than later. Get out of my life, Taylor, I've had enough.

The Slow Death of Beer Commercials

2009-01-12T18:13:00.003-05:00

Having watched an obscene amount of football over the past couple of weeks, I've taken notice of the latest batch of beer commercials, most notably Bud Light's "Drinkability" campaign. What's happened to this once great institution? When I was a kid, nothing came close to topping the "Tastes Great, Less Filling" Miller Lite commercials that featured such classic pitchmen as John Madden, Billy Martin, Dick Butkus, Bubba Smith and Bob Uecker. They were timely, creative and funny as hell. Nowadays, however, the level of writing and acting talent displayed on beer ads is about as creative and funny as a prison rape. They've been on a steady decline for years but I finally had seen enough with the aforementioned Bud Light ads, which are just stupid. Bring back Madden, dammit!

Slash

2009-01-10T10:28:00.005-05:00

When my brother gave me the not really new (it was published in 2007) Slash autobiography for Christmas, I was admittedly a little jealous of my other brother, whom he bought the new autobiography on Roger Moore. Having never been a huge fan of Guns 'N Roses while at the same time idolizing Moore as James Bond while growing up, I thought it was an interesting choice. After finally finishing the Slash book, I can honestly say that I'm glad I got what I got.

What an entertaining piece of work this turned out to be. Like I said, I was never a huge Guns fan. I've got the obvious songs in my iTunes library - Welcome To The Jungle, Paradise City, etc. But Slash has changed all that for me. He speaks quite candidly about his life as a rock star, sparing no person or incident in his brutally honest accounts of his rise to fame. I thought I had seen and heard it all when it comes to that lifestyle but I wasn't even close. Theft, booze, deadly reptiles, heroin, trashed vans and hotel rooms - that's all poppycock to a guy like Slash. This guy has done every drug and chick he could ever get his hands on. And how he lasted 10 minutes, much less 10 years, in a band with Axl Rose is beyond me.

As blurry as his mind must have been during his days as a drunk and a junkie (a "drunkie" if you will), he sure does remember a lot of details. Sketchy? Perhaps. But entertaining as hell. I was disheartened to finally reach the end. I highly recommend this book to anyone curious about the seedy underbelly of the LA rock scene of 80's/90's.

New Orleans Observations

2009-01-04T10:52:00.019-05:00

First of all, I want to offer a sincere apology to all Bama fans out there - the loss was completely my fault. I have two shirts that I got this season to wear to games - a white one and a red one. I wore the white one to every game I attended this season and we won all of them (Clemson, Tulane, Ole Miss, Auburn). I bought the red shirt at some point mid-season but decided not to wear it while I was undefeated in the white shirt. Well, I took both to New Orleans but guess which one I decided to wear to the Sugar Bowl? That's right - the red one. So take heed fellow Bama fans, as I will be burning that shirt today. One good thing that came from the game is that I got to meet some of my boyhood heroes: Barry Krauss and Richard Todd as well as Vince and Barbara Dooley. Here are some of my observations from my first trip to the Big Easy in over 10 years:

- Utah fans are total tools. One even approached a friend of mine on New Year's Eve and said "You guys don't know football - we're gonna kick your ass!" Really? Alabama doesn't know football? That's like one of us saying that Utah doesn't know anything about skiing or polygamy. Of course, the way the game turned out, I guess we don't know shit after all.

- The barbecue shrimp at Mr. B's Bistro is to die for. I'd dip dried turds into that sauce and eat them if I had the chance.

- Pat O's Hurricanes will indeed knock you on your ass if you're not careful.

- The Hand Grenades at Tropical Isle are gay and nothing more than liquid candy with alcohol thrown in.

- Any band of old farts who performs with all of their instruments tuned down a half or whole step should not only be fired but shot as well. They're doing nothing more than flaunting a fake performance on an otherwise unaware audience. If you have to sing LOW harmony on a song that is already tuned DOWN, it's time to retire.

- Some guys have to learn that you don't just toss Mardi Gras beads to anyone who yells for them. You've got to make the chicks earn them, as several were more than willing to do.

- If you're a bouncer at a Bourbon St. bar, it's really not necessary to roll up your short sleeves to expose your big biceps. We get it - you're a badass, even if it is only in your own mind.

- Utah fans are total tools.

- Remember how The Booth in Tuscaloosa smelled? That's how all of New Orleans smells.

- There's something strangely disconcerting when walking Bourbon Street at 5am and realizing that the only folks left are hookers and vagrants. That's when you ask yourself just what the f**k you're doing up at 5am. Fat, drunk and stupid might be a fun way to go through college but now when you're on the cusp of the big 4-0.

- The PA announcer at the Superdome has a voice that is almost annoying as the one at Auburn. His voice sounds like he's pinching his nose while gargling semen (sorry - I just call 'em as a see, er, hear 'em).

- The outcome of the game was NOT Andre Smith's fault, as some have alleged. News Flash: Smitty does not play defense.

- If you're going to eat lunch at the Cracker Barrel in Slidell, LA, go ahead and clear your schedule for at least two hours.

- Did I mention that Utah fans are tools?

Freddie

2008-12-30T08:59:00.007-05:00

The music world lost a legend yesterday with the passing of Freddie Hubbard at the age of 70. Hubbard was one of the finest jazz trumpeters of all time and was one of my first favorites when I delved into the world of jazz several years ago. He played with a fluidity that was instantly recognizable and could blow with power one minute while playing a beautiful ballad the next. His debut album as a leader, 1960's Open Sesame, as well as 1961's Ready For Freddie, are two of my favorite jazz albums ever. Although his health and his chops had diminished during his later years, he never lost his passion for music. He will be sorely missed.

My Top 10 Albums of 2008

2008-12-26T17:09:00.019-05:00

This has not been a particularly strong year for new releases. That being said, my Top 10 is actually once again a Top 11 (sue me). Although there were a number of quality reissues and live albums that were released, I'm sticking with new stuff for this list (although technically #11 was actually recorded live in front of an audience).

1. Aimee Mann - @#%&*! Smilers

Mrs. Penn’s long-awaited follow up to 2005’s The Forgotten Arm was a shot in the collective arm of her audience. Another collection of outstanding songs with only a couple of minor hiccups. Hopefully, her recent trend of an album of new songs every three years won’t continue.

2. R.E.M. – Accelerate

While I love the album, the style seemed a little forced after the disappointment of 2005’s Around The Sun. Critics and fans alike were pumped over the band’s return to its “rockin’” roots. Personally, I wasn’t disappointed with ATS. As long as the songs are good, I don’t give a shit how much an album “rocks” (see Automatic For The People).

3. Sugarland – Love On The Inside

I’m gonna catch hell for this pick but damn if I can’t stop listening to these songs over and over. Though the production and presentation is highly commercial, Jennifer Nettles and Kristian Bush are actually considered to edgy by Nashville standards. And speaking of catching hell…

4. John Oates – 1000 Miles Of Life

Believe it or not, the other half of Hall & Oates is one hell of a songwriter. This album flew under the radar but it has legs.

5. Teddy Thompson – A Piece Of What You Need

Teddy released another splendid album of outstanding pop tunes this year. He’s one of the most consistent songwriters around these days – and he doesn’t throw tantrums!

6. Jenny Lewis - Acid Tongue

Fresh off her last album, Rabbit Fur Coat, Ms. Lewis has put together another outstanding set of songs, albeit a shift back toward her indie sound from the country leanings of last year. The title track is one of my favorite songs of the year.

7. David Byrne & Brian Eno – Everything That Happens Will Happen Today

I always liked the Talking Heads but Byrne’s solo material has never done anything for me. And while Brian Eno has worked wonders producing U2, his own stuff has also been less than appealing. Which made this album a pleasant surprise – a collection of (mostly) straightforward pop songs without the usual Byrne/Eno weirdness.

8. Anat Cohen – Notes From The Village

Quite simply my favorite jazz musician currently out there. Anat likes to mix it up from album to album not only thematically but instrumentally as well, often changing pace from clarinet to tenor sax to soprano sax with consistent ease and beauty.

9. AC/DC – Black Ice

The boys still have it. Although the songs aren’t quite as catchy as they used to be, they bring it on every time with crunch and gusto. How Brian Johnson is still able to sound like Brian Johnson is beyond me.

10. Jackson Browne – Time The Conqueror

The first album of new material after two live Solo Acoustic releases, Jackson is still on top of his game both musically and lyrically, touching on today’s social and political topics. And that voice – simply one of the best.

11. Joe Lovano – Symphonica

A beautiful album from the longtime tenor saxophonist, Lovano is constantly stretching the boundaries of jazz – this time orchestrally.

What He Said...

2008-12-24T14:49:00.003-05:00

Did He Really Just Say That?

2008-12-18T14:48:00.005-05:00

Auburn President Jay Gogue commented about the school's football program in Ray Melick's column in today's Birmingham News:

"Borrowing a line from former Auburn President Harry Philpott (1965-1980), Gogue believes the ideal football season is going 8-3, because it's just enough wins to keep fans happy but not so much that the football program becomes bigger than the university."

Wow.

Phil Rudd Hits A Tom!

2008-12-11T18:52:00.005-05:00

I finally made it to a Wal-Mart the other day and picked up the new AC/DC album, Black Ice. I must say that it booms out of the speakers with that familiar crunching pleasure that only AC/DC can provide – the boys definitely still have it. But I noticed something during the first chorus of track #13 (Rock N Roll Dream) that I literally have never heard before – a Phil Rudd tom fill. This is not a knock against Phil or the band. Phil Rudd is one of the most solid rock drummers of all time. But the dude could play every song in the AC/DC catalog with nothing more than a kick, snare, floor, high-hat and crash symbol - that’s all he ever plays (again, not that there’s anything wrong with that). Phil doesn’t give a shit about being on the cover of Modern Drummer with a 48 piece kit in the background. He just pounds away with thunderous fury while he and his band mates make millions of ear drums bleed. And next month I’ll finally be seeing the band live for the first time. Rock on, Phil.

Bowl Intrigue - Catch It!

2008-12-10T17:25:00.006-05:00

How happy do you think the Las Vegas Bowl and the Sugar Bowl representatives are right now? While the Sugar folks are surely excited to have the well-traveled Bama faithful descend upon their fair city of New Orleans, they can’t be entirely happy about having the Utah Utes paired with the Tide. Somehow I can’t see Mormons letting it all loose on Bourbon St.

And how about the Las Vegas Bowl matchup of Arizona vs. BYU? Once again, Mormons are not going to be throwing money around the Sin City. Bibles maybe, but not coin. Hell, there are too many damn bowls anyway.

Waiting Rooms And Butt Boils

2008-12-05T15:12:00.003-05:00

It’s been an interesting few weeks for me lately. My stepfather has been in the hospital after some post-surgery complications, with 12 of those days in ICU. So I’ve spent more time at the hospital lately than I ever have in my life. During our time in the ICU waiting room area, we encountered many other families with loved ones in ICU. And, in our own way of coping with stress, we were thoroughly entertained by some of these folks.

Among them was a family whose situation I became very familiar with due to the fact that they didn’t care who heard their conversation. A woman’s husband had fallen ill and was lucky to still be alive. According to her story, he had begun feeling dizzy several days earlier and felt extremely weak. Besides vomiting and having other symptoms, she described in great detail a boil that had formed on his butt. And not just any boil, but a large black boil that grew to the size of a saucer. After several days of not knowing what to do, she said that he finally passed out one night while sitting on the toilet, fell to the floor, and began coughing up blood. It was only then that she decided to take action and call 911.

Well, the doctors asked all kinds of questions and were perplexed when they couldn’t determine the cause of his symptoms. Finally they asked her if he had been bitten by anything.

“Oh yeah,” she answered, “he got bit by a spider last week – that’s what caused the boil in the first place.”

It turned out he had been bitten by a Brown Recluse, one of two poisonous spiders native to the U.S. In the meantime, the poor man’s condition had worsened and he almost died before they found out this key bit of information. But the worst part of this story was when the woman and her friends, who were there for support, began trading their own “butt boil” stories, as if this were as common of an occurrence as catching a cold. Personally, I can’t recall ever having a boil, much less on my buttocks. And I certainly never expected to be regaled with multiple anecdotes dealing with such a phenomenon.

The next day a large man who was with the butt boil family asked my mother who she was there for and what his name was. He said he was an evangelist and could add his name to their television prayer list.

“Um, no thanks – I’m good,” she replied.

With that, he stood up and, in the middle of the room, began preaching to everyone within earshot. My mom promptly picked up her belongings and left. Fortunately, my stepdad has been moved into a private room. We won’t have to deal with anymore of that lunacy. But as long as I live, I’ll never forget the “butt boil” family.

The Death Of Music, Part 5

2008-11-23T22:24:00.007-05:00

I'm a member of a fitness place that I try to attend a few times a week. You never know what you're gonna get when it comes to the music that's played over the stereo speakers, which is why I usually take my iPod. On this day, however, I was stuck listening to some "modern rock" station that plays mostly crap. I heard a song that almost made me throw up in my mouth. The song was "Addicted" by a band called Saving Abel. First of all, the name of the band is completely puerile. I can see the douche bags now, preening and posing for their next press photo. Secondly, the music was about as bland as boiled celery. But it was the lyrics of the song that literally made me stop my workout and stare at the speakers. Here's the chorus, in all its perspicacious glory:

I'm so addicted to
All the things you do
When your going down on me
In between the sheets
All the sounds you make
With every breath you take
Its unlike anything
when you're loving me

That's poetry my friends. Somewhere out there in a New Orleans studio, Bob Dylan is gushing with pride at the prominent legacy he's left upon the music gods of today. Let us rejoice.

The Police

2008-11-18T11:34:00.010-05:00

Having missed out on last year’s Police reunion tour, I had hoped and expected that they would release a live DVD or CD. My prayers were answered with the release of their new live DVD/CD at Best Buy (the only place you can buy it) called Certifiable. What an outstanding set. They played and sounded as good as ever and tinkered just enough with their arrangements and keys to make it interesting without destroying the songs (although I can’t for the life of me figure out why they decided to pull the insipid “Walking In Your Footsteps” out of the song catalog).

After my Kiss obsession during 1st & 2nd grade, The Police were one of the first bands that I could claim as my own discovery. Up until then, I’d mainly been exposed to artists that I had heard from my parents or from friends. It all started with the hits off of the Zenyatta Mondatta album (“Don’t Stand So Close To Me” and “De Do Do Do, De Da Da Da”). I was fascinated by the rhythms, the melodies and the vocals themselves, which I came to find out later were just the extremely tight harmonies of one man’s voice (Sting) layered on top of each other. But it was the release of Ghost In The Machine and the album’s subsequent videos that really hooked me. Here was a band that was making hip, fresh music and I had no idea what they looked like - until the videos for “Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic” and “Spirits In The Material Word”. I thought they were the coolest dudes I’d ever seen, especially Stewart Copeland in his Izod shirt and sunglasses. I immediately bought the rest of their catalog, including Outlandos d’Amour, Regatta de Blanc (as well as the aforementioned Zenyatta Mondatta) and immersed myself into the world of The Police, sitting in my dad’s study for hours with headphones on, listening to each record intently.

When Synchronicity was released, I almost peed my pants in anticipation. The band didn’t disappoint. I spent so much time listening to this album that I literally wore out the grooves on the record. At the time I didn’t know what the hell Sting was singing about (“There’s a skeleton choking on a crust of bread?”) but I didn’t care. It was a brilliantly written and beautifully performed masterpiece (except for “Footsteps” and “Mother” of course). On top of that, I got to see them live at their peak on the Synchronicity Tour in '83. Although I was initially skeptical of the reunion tour, I’m glad they did it, if only for my re-discovery of one of the greatest rock bands of our generation.

Yes Sir, Coach!

2008-11-14T09:41:00.006-05:00

Skip to around 2:30. Where's a brick wall when you need one?

TT's All-time Favorite Athletes

2008-11-11T14:11:00.012-05:00

I don't normally watch commercials, but the new Dr. Pepper ad with Dr. J is hilarious. It took me of the good ole days of the NBA, just after the merger with the ABA. It also reminded me of my very short list of favorite all-time athletes. I'm going to stick with the three major sports here - baseball, basketball and football. Here tis, in no particular order:

Baseball - Hank Aaron
As a lifelong Braves fan, I endured many years of suffering during my childhood. The one bright spot was Hank Aaron. From the time I could walk, I sported a #44 Braves jersey (as well as a crimson #12 but we’ll get to that later). The record-breaking home run #715 was the defining sports moment during my childhood. By the time I was old enough to read, I was at the school library, checking out every book I could find about Hank. It was especially satisfying to know that he was born and raised here in Alabama. Years later, I did something that I had never done before or since – I wrote a letter to a famous athlete. The letter was to Hank Aaron and on the 25th anniversary of #715 and it was in appreciation for his accomplishments on and off the field. There has never been anyone better.

Basketball – Julius “Dr. J” Errrrrrrrrrrving
He was simply known as The Dr. Before Jordan, there was #6, and he was every bit as talented. With his fro and his swagger, Erving dazzled millions of fans with his moves and his mojo. He even tried his hand at acting as Moses Guthrie in the forgotten yet classic flick, The Fish That Saved Pittsburgh. Although he did win one championship with the Sixers, he very well could have won more had he been surrounded with more talent for a longer period of time.

Football – Joe Namath
Last but not least, Namath was simply THE coolest athlete to ever roam the planet. During the late 60’s/early 70’s, there wasn’t a heterosexual male in America who didn’t want to be Broadway Joe for just one day. Canon arm? Check. Super Bowl ring? Check. Swarmed by the ladies? Check. This guy was the S.H.I.T. And on top of that, he played at Bama for The Bear. He still visits T-town on occasion and still draws crowds and standing ovations wherever he goes. Quite simply, he is still THE MAN.

CGI OD

2008-11-07T09:49:00.005-05:00

I finally got around to watching Indiana Jones and The Kingdom of the Crystal Skull this week. As a huge fan of the original Indy trilogy, I was excited yet apprehensive when I heard that Lucas & Spielberg were shooting a fourth installment. Apprehensive because I was let down by the Star Wars prequel trilogy of the past ten years. Not only was I disappointed by the story and the actors, I felt like George Lucas went overboard with the computer effects. It just didn't have the organic feel of the original trilogy. That's why I loved the Indy movies. This swashbuckling series had PLAUSIBLE old school movie stunts with REAL stuntmen.

Which brings us to the new Indiana Jones film. Not only were the stunts implausible (a guy standing spread eagle between two jeeps speeding side by side through a bumpy jungle? Could TOTALLY happen. Not.), but the movie as a whole was CGI'd to death. The chases felt fake, the creatures felt fake (those stupid giant ants looked like a kid playing high-speed color by numbers on a computer) and the set design felt fake. And our beloved characters surviving not one, not two, but THREE giant water falls? Yeah, that would absolutely happen in real life. Look, I'm not saying that I'm incapable of using my imagination when watching a movie but come on, George and Steve, we're not children. The feel of the first three Indy films was simply not there. Note to Steve, George, Michael Bay and every other filmmaker out there: Just because you have the technology doesn't mean you have to use it ALL the time in EVERY scene.

History

2008-11-05T10:19:00.005-05:00

Yesterday's election was certainly historical. But for some reason, I don't feel that way. Don't get me wrong, I understand the significance in the big scheme of things. But for some reason, I don't see it as Barack Obama being elected the first African-American President - I simply see it as Barack Obama being elected President. And to me, that's more historical than anything else.

Voting

2008-11-04T13:20:00.008-05:00

I voted today. Barely. Knowing I had to work late today, I got up early this morning in order to hit my voting location at 7:00. As I arrived at 6:55, my jaw dropped - there was a line of people wrapped around the building. Not only was the main lot full, but there were cars parked for a half mile past the building. "Screw this," I said and drove on to work. By 9:15, I figured the lines had died down, so I drove back over there. The line was long but not as bad as before. However, it still took a solid hour wait to get my ballot. I've voted at this same location for 8 years and I've never had to wait more than 25 minutes.

Strangely, each line was huge except for the "L-R" line, which never had more than 5 people. You'd think that they would have crunched the numbers in terms of how many with each last name - I guess that made too much sense. You would also think that they could find volunteers other than retired blue hairs (students perhaps?) to collect signatures and distribute ballots. As sweet as these folks might be, they move with the speed of a Sam's Wholesale employee. And no one knew what the hell they were supposed to do when they entered the building. Do we wait in the main line? Or do we make a run for the "Last Name" line? There was one soft-spoken, little old lady walking around explaining to everyone where to go and what to do. It didn't help. I could barely hear her when she was standing right in front of me. What they needed were large signs and/or a large woman with a train whistle for vocal cords shouting instructions to everyone. I think I'll be advocating and running for a new office - Voting Nazi.

Ding Dong, The Pumpkin's Gone!

2008-11-03T12:25:00.003-05:00

This Ought To Be Interesting

2008-10-29T09:51:00.008-04:00

This morning I saw an announcement that Oasis and Ryan Adams will be touring together this winter in support of their new albums. I can't think of a more volatile gathering of egos and ill temperament. Some of you may recall my own Ryan Adams experience last year. And I spoke to a friend last week who related a story about a recent Ryan Adams tantrum in the ATL in which he stormed off the stage after 50 minutes because he was apparently upset at the lack of ticket sales. And Oasis? Please. Those guys are notorious for their own outbursts and infighting, most recently making news when a fan barnstormed the stage at Toronto's Virgin Festival. Either way, fans are sure to NOT get their money's worth at whatever show they choose to attend.

Sans Plant

2008-10-28T10:21:00.009-04:00

After reuniting last year in London for one show, it seems that there might be a Led Zeppelin tour in the works, albeit without frontman Robert Plant. Plant has been reluctant to go forward with a tour after a year of speculation. Now it seems that Jimmy Page and John Paul Jones are ready to audition singers and proceed without him with Jason Bonham on drums.

"We want to do it. It's sounding great and we want to get on and get out there," said Jones at a guitar show in Exeter, southwest England.

"It's got to be right. There's no point in just finding another Robert. You could get that out of a tribute band, but we don't want to be our own tribute band," he added.

Um, except that's exactly what it would be if you go forward with this charade, John Paul. But JP and Jimmy aren't stupid. They realize that people (myself not included) will shell out countless dollars to sing along to their own version of live band karaoke. It'll be Field of Dreams ("People will come") all over again. But I'm sorry Jimmy (as well as Neil Schon, Mick Jones and Brian May) - Journey is not Journey without Steve Perry, Foreigner is not Foreigner without Lou Gramm and, for the love of God, Queen is not Queen without Freddie Mercury! No one wants to see David Freaking Coverdale shake his leather-clad ass while butchering "Whole Lotta Love".

So please, JP and Jimmy - continue to live comfortably off your royalties. Let this ludicrous idea die and your legacy remain intact.

Oh, What A Beautiful Morning

2008-10-26T09:20:00.002-04:00

¡Música Mariachi Patadas Culo!

2008-10-21T14:26:00.007-04:00

Ever since my return from Mexico, I haven't been able to shake the sound of mariachi music out of my head. There's something about traditional Mexican music that gets my blood pumping. So last night I did some research and downloaded an album by Nati Cano’s Mariachi Los Camperos, who skillfully arrange and perform versions of classic mariachi melodies. The recording is excellent and the music is beautiful, both vocally and instrumentally. They combine several styles of traditional music from many regions of Mexico and utilize various instrumentation, from harp to violins, as well as the usual percussion, horns and other stringed instruments. I think I'll just have to have myself a little Mexican fiesta and crank my new music.

* By the way, the translation of this post's title is "Mariachi Music Kicks Ass!"

What The Hell Are We Teaching Our Children ?!?

2008-10-16T10:13:00.007-04:00

Any and all conversation that I have with our 22 year-old receptionist is a fascinating one, especially when it comes to the gaping divide that is our knowledge and understanding of pop culture. The other day, I was comparing a fellow employee's laugh to that of Ted Knight's Judge Smails character in Caddyshack (which is a whole other story), and she looked at me incredulously.

"You have seen Caddyshack, right?" I asked curiously.

"No, I haven't. Isn't that one of those stupid comedies? I don't like stupid comedies," she replied.

She then began to giggle as I stared at her with moribund curiosity. It turns out that she also hasn't seen Airplane, Fast Times or The Naked Gun. Now, I understand that we're dealing with a generational thing here. But Jesus, these are classics we're talking about. Almost everyone my age has seen the vintage comedies of our parents' youth - Dr. Strangelove, The Graduate, M.A.S.H., Blazing Saddles, etc. Just what the hell are parents teaching their kids nowadays anyway? Don't we owe it to ourselves and the survival of our species to expose our children to the classic comedic films of our time? They'll have no soul and no chance out there in the real world if we don't educate them. I implore you, dear readers, if you are a parent - don't let your kids grow up unenlightened.

I'm Have Superstition Sickness

2008-10-14T10:35:00.005-04:00

Yesterday I went to the doctor and afterward went to the scheduling desk to set up my next appointment. The nurse asked me if January 8th was okay (since I'm diabetic, I go every 3-6 months). I pondered the month and day. January 8th, hmm...I read something recently about that date. Then it hit me - that's the night of the BCS National Championship game in Miami.

"No!" I told her. "If Alabama makes it to the NC, there's a chance that I'll be in Miami for the game."

She started tapping away at her computer when I exclaimed, to no one in particular, "Wait! Go ahead and book it. What was I thinking? If I had changed it, I would've jinxed the team. By making the appointment for January 8th, things will more likely work out for us. And I can always change the appointment."

I peered down at her behind the counter and she was looking at me like I was a nut case, which, let's face it, I am. Nothing stirs up my superstitious side like Alabama football. If I'm watching a game on TV and we're sucking, I'll change positions, chairs, or even rooms in order to change our luck. Hell, I'll even NOT watch if it means that we win. And it truly is a sickness. Just ask the scheduling nurse at Southview Medical Partners. At least my doctor can understand - she is, after all, married to Paul Finebaum.

¡Ay, caramba!

2008-10-13T15:11:00.008-04:00

Sorry for being AWOL lately, but I've been taking advantage of a little R&R in Cabo San Lucas, Mexico. It was quite an eventful week, starting with my near-drowning experience in the beautiful waters of the Sea of Cortes. The waves were huge and the red flags were waving, but that was of little concern to us as we observed several swimmers having a ball. I took a few steps into the surf only to be greeted by the biggest wave I've ever seen looming towards me (it was at least a 10 foot swell). I braced myself like I've done a thousand times before on the Gulf Coast, only this wasn't your typical gulf wave. The next thing I knew, I was taken down and being pulled out by the most powerful undertow I've ever experienced. And did my survival instincts kick in at that point? Um, no. I felt my swim trunks at my knees, so naturally I was more concerned about shrinkage exposure than I was about dying - we men are complete idiots. I crawled out of the water only to realize that my $200 Maui Jim sunglasses were gone, swallowed by the sheer force of the ocean. I hope the fish are enjoying my shades.

The near-death experience was followed by actual death in the "party pool". Apparently, a 90 year-old man enjoyed his last vacay by diving to the bottom of the pool for his glasses only to float to the surface a dead man. The paramedics arrived (casually of course), covered the body with resort towels (which were probably washed and re-used), and hauled him away. Surely, it was a lovely experience for the kids who witnessed it.

I also got to enjoy the sounds of Sammy Hagar during his annual birthday bash at Cabo Wabo. Unfortunately, my travel companion was back at the room yacking. But Sammy and his band kicked ass, playing a mixture of solo and Van Hagar material. Alas, I missed getting to see Michael Anthony jam with the band the next night, but it was still quite an experience.

And finally, we got to wait out an impending hurricane (Norbert) as our week coasted along to an end. Fortunately, it hit land Saturday about 300 miles north of us. All things considered, it was a relaxing week - good food, good beer, good times.

\ˈnü-klē-ər, ˈnyü-, ÷-kyə-lər\

2008-10-03T09:34:00.005-04:00

While watching the VP debate last night, I couldn't help but notice Sarah Palin's mangling of the word "nuclear". Between her and Dubya, why is this word so difficult to pronounce? This isn't necessarily an indictment of any particular party - I just can't figure it out. Ask any Major League pitcher, no matter how good they are, if he has a batter(s) who continually tees off on them, and he'll always be able to rattle off at least one or more who almost always get the best of them. Just like them, I realize every person has a word or phrase that stumps them for no uncertain reason. But I find it ironic that a world leader (or potential one) would butcher that word in particular.

R.I.P. Paul Newman

2008-09-27T13:40:00.002-04:00

Quite simply, he was one of the coolest mofos to ever walk the face of the earth.

The Newman Foundation issued this statement:

"Paul Newman's craft was acting. His passion was racing. His love was his family and friends. And his heart and soul were dedicated to helping make the world a better place for all. Paul had an abiding belief in the role that luck plays in one's life, and its randomness. He was quick to acknowledge the good fortune he had in his own life, beginning with being born in America, and was acutely aware of how unlucky so many others were. True to his character, he quietly devoted himself to helping offset this imbalance. An exceptional example is the legacy of Newman's Own. What started as something of a joke in the basement of his home, turned into a highly-respected, multi-million dollar a year food company. And true to form, he shared this good fortune by donating all the profits and royalties he earned to thousands of charities around the world, a total which now exceeds $250 million. While his philanthropic interests and donations were wide-ranging, he was especially committed to the thousands of children with life-threatening conditions served by the Hole in the Wall Camps, which he helped start over 20 years ago. He saw the Camps as places where kids could escape the fear, pain and isolation of their conditions, kick back, and raise a little hell. Today, there are 11 Camps around the world, with additional programs in Africa and Vietnam. Through the Camps, well over 135,000 children have had the chance to experience what childhood was meant to be.

"We will miss our friend Paul Newman, but are lucky ourselves to have known such a remarkable person."

Amen to that.

Shocking News

2008-09-25T13:36:00.003-04:00

The recent newsbreak that Clay Aiken is gay is shocking. The Clay-nation is understandably up in arms over this startling revelation. All those women who had crushes on Clay will just have to look elsewhere for dream salvation - perhaps Ricky Martin or Tom Cruise can fulfill this role.

In other news, John McCain is old, Star Jones had gastric bypass surgery, and Terrence Cody is HUGE.

This Is Beautiful

2008-09-20T10:40:00.003-04:00

Gator fan hijacks Tennessee's Wikipedia page - hilarity ensues.

This Is Our Country

2008-09-19T10:03:00.003-04:00

Lately, there has been a trend of pop/rock artists reinventing themselves as country artists. And it has become rather annoying. It all started a couple of years ago when Jon Bon Jovi released a country album that went nowhere. This year, Jessica Simpson and now Darius Rucker have released country albums, and although the sales have been positive, this "comeback" strategy still reeks of desperation. Not that today's country music stars are worth a shit to begin with. With very few exceptions, the music on today's country music charts would make Eddy Arnold puke. It also doesn't help when you have posers like Kid Rock releasing piece of crap singles to country radio as well. These artists need to stick with what they know, even if it isn't much to begin with.

The Great Southern Freakout

2008-09-12T14:20:00.005-04:00

Here in Bama, nothing rallies the troops like a good ol' panic situation. A perfect example of this is when there's a chance of snow (or even sleet) during the colder months. You'd think that we're about to get blindsided by a blizzard of epic proportions.

This time there's a freakout over the impending arrival of Hurricane Ike, which isn't even supposed to affect our state, at least weather-wise. However, it will cause many oil rigs in the Gulf to shut down and halt production TEMPORARILY. In fact, according to today's Birmingham News, this will cause a spike in gas prices of 40-50 cents a gallon over the next few weeks. So how is our community reacting? By going completely apeshit. I've had several co-workers leave work today just so they can fill up their gas tanks. They're warning me that I need to fill up my own gas tank immediately - that there are lines at all the gas stations and that the prices are gonna go up to five bucks a gallon. You'd think that the apocalypse was upon us. Calm down, folks. The same panic occurred right before Hurricane Ivan, and we didn't run out of gas then.

Football, barbecue, incest, tobacco, fried food, intolerance, mullets, drunken aggression, country music - collective freakouts are just one more of many proud Southern traditions.

The Wave

2008-09-08T12:18:00.004-04:00

I'm proud to say that I've never participated in this mindless activity - never have and never will. I don't know when it started but it's annoying, especially when there is game action going on. And there is always some tool(s) who feel it necessary to turn around and act as "wave monitors", scolding those of us who have the audacity to sit it out and actually pay attention to the sporting event which we paid for. Keep on preaching to us, buddy. And after you're done, please sit down and shut up.

Snowman

2008-09-04T14:54:00.007-04:00

Sorry for my lengthy hiatus but I've been unavoidably detained as of late. Sadly, I must mark my return with the passing of a legend. Singer, songwriter, actor extraordinaire Jerry Reed died the other day at the age of 71. Jerry will be remembered for many things but, most notably for me, he's best known as being Burt Reynolds's sidekick, Cletus Snow, in the all-time classic, Smokey & The Bandit.

When I was a kid, my grandfather had a 700 acre cattle farm where you could participate in every type of outdoor activity you can think of. There was also an indoor activity that came into our lives at that time: the Betamax. For the uninformed, Betamax was the first video cassette player - it was around even before the VCR. I remember the overwhelming feeling of disbelief when my grandfather first showed it to us. All of us kids were dumbfounded:

"Wait...whatha? You mean we can watch movies on a tape?!? And you can even pause and rewind?!? Cool!!!"

Honest to God, that was our reaction. It was like discovering time travel. He had three movies: Smokey & The Bandit, Star Wars and some piece of crap Rock Hudson movie called Embryo. Needless to say, I watched Smokey and Star Wars over an over and over - I have seen these two movies, especially Smokey, more than any other in my life. I can say without exaggeration that I have seen Smokey & The Bandit at least 250 times (probably much more). So Jerry Reed's "Snowman" character holds a special place in my cold heart. From the time I was 8 years-old, I could recite every line, re-enact every scene and sing every song from that movie (and probably still can). It came in handy years later when The Inlaws stormed the Southeast with "Eastbound And Down" and our Bandit quotes from the stage.

So long, Snowman. We'll miss you.

Guitar Hero, Rock Band, etc.

2008-08-21T10:20:00.008-04:00

I've heard of bad parenting but this takes the cake. According to the Raleigh News Observer, 16-year-old Blake Peebles has, with his parents' permission, dropped out of high school to pursue his dreams of becoming a professional Guitar Hero player. And of course, Blake doesn't know how to play the actual guitar. After bugging them for months, Blake's parents finally gave in to his plan and hired a tutor for him. Blake spends all night playing his video games and some of the day doing school work. His mother said, "We couldn't take the complaining anymore. He always told me that he thought school was a waste of time."

You know what my mom said when I complained about school? "Shut up and do your homework."

I've been meaning to go off on this subject for months but have avoided it for one reason or another. This whole Guitar Hero phenomenon is akin to karaoke - it's a lame activity that gives untalented amateurs the false sense that they somehow have the ability to compete with actual professional performers. I've played it and it didn't do anything for me (sorry E). Playing video games can be fun but it doesn't even come close to the thrill of actually performing music in front of an audience. Those colored plastic buttons are not the same as playing a real instrument. Non-musicians need to understand that. I once attended an event where the "house band" were four tools standing around with their fake Rock Band instruments playing fake music between the award presentations. The organizers must have thought it was cute. It wasn't. In fact, it was quite annoying.

This Blake Peebles kid is the latest example of some poor delusional soul who's trying to take the easy road to success. What's really sad is his parents who are contributing to their son's phantasmic dream world. It's like someone who's kick ass at Madden 2009 thinking they can be an NFL football player. Ain't gonna happen. My advice to Blake is to pick up a guitar and try the real thing. Oh, and go back to school.

The Olympics and What Might Have Been...

2008-08-12T09:55:00.003-04:00

Olympic fever has been building all summer, culminating with the mind numbming/boggling opening ceremony last Friday in Beijing. I just wasn't buying it, though. With all the pageantry and hype leading up to the games, I just wasn't in the Olympic spirit...until now. I've been watching for the past few days and like any true American, can't seem to draw myself away from the TV. So far, I've come away with two undeniable observances: 1) our swimmers kick ass (and as good as Phelps is, Jason Lezak was THE MAN in the 4x100 relay), and 2) for all their courage and poise, our men's gymnastics team are a bunch of tools. All of this takes me back to a time when my life path took a turn from what might have been (an Olympic swimming career) to what it is now (a Rock n' Roll has been)...

When I was six years old, I was on the "Guppies" - a swim team for first-timers. I remember dreading having to go to practice at 7am but was proud to be on the team and wear one of the blue & red Speedos like the older kids (this was before I realized how gay they looked). My first swim meet was at Altadena Swim Club and I was scheduled to swim in just one event - a one lap free-style race. When me and my mom got there, the place was swarming with swimmers, parents and coaches, and I remember feeling overwhelmed by the whole chaotic scene. My coached snagged me and took me to one of the pools, where I was to wait until it was time for me to race. Well, I was nervous and didn't know when it was my turn. I had to pee REALLY bad but was scared to ask where the bathroom was for fear of missing my race or worse, being called a pussy by my teammates and/or coach.

The coach finally called my name and as I approached the starting block, I could see the concentration and determination on the face of each swimmer. Me? All I could think was, "I gotta pee!" I took my place and waited for what seemed like an eternity for the pistol to go off. When it finally did, I dove in and immediately "went" in the pool. My arms were moving and my legs were kicking, but at that point I didn't give a rat's ass about winning the race. All I could do was inch forward and enjoy the warm ecstasy. I naturally finished last and exited the pool, where my mom was waiting for me with open arms. She hugged me and told me it was okay, that I had tried hard and done my best. The pep talk was completely unnecessary, of course. All I cared about was that I didn't have to pee anymore. Needless to say, that was the last time I ever raced in a swim meet. I quit the team and moved on to other interests. But part of me will always wonder what might have been...

Tax Money In Action/Inaction

2008-08-11T14:24:00.006-04:00

There's a small retail outlet center near my office that is accessible from Lakeshore Drive, a fairly busy road that's growing and expanding in our area. Several months ago at the entrance to the shops, a construction crew mounted traffic signals at the intersection over the course of two weeks. This included four large poles, power lines and light assemblies. All that was left to do was remove the covers from the lights. Just when the signals were ready for use, they took everything down overnight. Gone.

Guess what I witnessed today? A work crew of three trucks and about a dozen men installing the same poles all over again. WTF?!? Someone had to have given the project the green light (pun intended) in the first place, changed their mind, and gave it another go ahead. Once again, our city/state government showed the true extent of their brilliance when it comes to spending the taxpayers' money.

Music Tools

2008-08-07T14:43:00.004-04:00

I was driving through a parking lot yesterday and noticed a dude wearing a black t-shirt, black jeans, black sneakers, black ball cap worn backwards, sunglasses and sporting a ponytail. "Ah," I said to myself, "must be a music store employee."

Sure enough, I looked up and saw a music store where I'm sure this guy was employed. Better yet, as he got into his car, I noticed that he had a personalized tag that said GOES211 (Goes to 11), quoted straight from This Is Spinal Tap. The definition of cool, indeed.

Walk into a Mars, Guitar Center, or any other musical instrument store and you're bound to run into one of these geeks, eager to sell you the latest bad axe. Don't have a pick? That's okay - they can just snag one out of their fanny pack. Forgot the dude's name? No problem - it's printed on their faux backstage pass hanging on their neck lanyard. Amp won't turn on? Please allow them to crawl around the cabinet with their LED pocket flashlight to plug it in. Pickups need adjusting? They've got a trusty Leatherman tool kit in their fanny pack as well. Can't find anybody? He'll be back in a minute - he's on a smoke break. Rock on, brother.

Johnny & Skip

2008-08-05T18:18:00.004-04:00

Two of my all-time favorite sports figures passed away this past weekend, neither of which ever played a minute of actual sports (at least as a career). John Mark Stallings, the beloved son of former Bama coach Gene Stallings, died at the age of 46. "Johhny", as his friends and family called him, was a larger than life figure during his time in Tuscaloosa, with an enormous heart and an enormous passion for Alabama football. He will be dearly missed by fans everywhere. Bama AD Mal Moore put it best:

"John Mark Stallings touched every Alabama fan. The child who, it was thought, could never do great things did them after all, with his gentle nature and warm smile. Most of all, he did great things with his complete, unquestioning capacity to love his family, to love Alabama and to love everyone who shared those feelings with him in the short 46 years of his life."

Skip Caray was the long-time announcer for the Atlanta Braves on both radio and on TBS television broadcasts. Although his role had been reduced over the past few years, his honesty and quirky sense of humor were still a pleasure to experience. As a life-long Braves fan, their games will never be the same for me without Skip's smart-ass comments and anecdotes. His memorable style included such gems as:

- Once during a game against the Florida Marlins, Caray quipped, "The bases are loaded, just like (Marlins manager) Jack McKeon probably wishes he was."
- Caray would frequently make fun of Braves relief pitcher, Jung Bong, declaring every time the opposing team got a hit against him, "that's another hit off of Bong".

May both of these men forever rest in peace.

2008-08-01T09:40:00.004-04:00

This weekend is my (gulp) 20 year HS reunion. My old band (and first band), Silent Majority, will be rocking the house on Saturday. Ok, actually we're just going to be background music, but in our minds the high school lunchroom will be transformed into Madison Square Garden. As you can see from the above photo (my all-time favorite by the way), taken at the Hood Amphitheater (aka their driveway) when I was a senior, it was a lot of fun. We weren't very good but we didn't know or care. Looking at the photo, I see three things in that photo that I miss: my blond Rickenbacker bass, my Woody Allen T-shirt, and my cadaverous figure.

My dad was a musical influence on me growing up, having played in high school and college himself (and still to this day in fact). I was somewhat of a jock as a kid and played football, baseball and basketball up until 7th grade. After that, football and baseball became too much of a pain in the ass but I stuck with basketball. However, I was one of those players who was good enough to make the team but was primarily a benchwarmer. When I got to high school in 10th grade, I decided I’d try out for the JV basketball team. The coach was also a football assistant, so the first workouts consisted mainly of a bunch of us goofing off in the gym until football practice was over.

That same week, some buddies and I decided to “jam” one afternoon at my friend Bart's house. It went well and we decided to practice a couple of times a week. Once football season was over, the coach (who was also quite a prick I might add) decided to make us show up at school every morning at 6AM to run a mile on the track. Anyone who knows me can see where this is going - after all, I'm a lover not a runner. At that point, I weighed my options: either spend 3 hours a day busting my ass and sitting on the bench for my efforts or form a band to play at parties where we would drink beer, meet chicks and hopefully make a little money. Gee…what a decision.

Needless to say, I chose the latter and we called ourselves The Side Effects (which would later be changed to Silent Majority after we discovered another band with the same name). The four of us, Bart, David, Brent and I (along with our friend Beth on keys for a short time) played all through high school and sporadically during our first couple of years in college. David and I went on to form Three Hour Tour and the rest is history. This weekend will be interesting. We'll probably hit some right notes, most likely will suck in other spots, but we'll definitely have a blast.

It's Hotter Than...

2008-07-28T15:14:00.003-04:00

Pride Vs. Saving Money

2008-07-23T14:46:00.004-04:00

Lately I've noticed more and more people driving Vespas and other motorized scooters to and from their place of work. I can understand why. With gas prices shooting higher than a kite on acid, it makes sense from a savings standpoint. However, I can't think of too many things that are more dorky than riding one of those things, especially while wearing work attire. Even with a helmet to cover your face, it would test the limits of my pride to participate in this activity. I'll keep flushing my money away on gas for my mid-sized SUV, thank you.

Confession Time

2008-07-16T11:02:00.003-04:00

Lately I’ve been struggling with a confessional disclaimer, which explains my recent absence from this blog. Dear readers, I know I’m going to be ridiculed incessantly for what I’m about to divulge, especially from my fellow music fans. Due to various factors (okay, one – a chick), I was recently introduced to an artist who I had previously not given a rat’s ass about. For a long time, I’ve viewed “new” country music as nothing more than hillbilly bubblegum pop, consisting of overhyped artists with their young, hip, cookie cutter, gel-headed, cheeseball back-up musicians. To me, country had lost its edge years ago, which was exactly the motive for forming my old band, The Inlaws (see TommyTCoe photo above).

So recently, when I was force-fed the music of (gulp) Kenny Chesney, I initially resisted. At first I thought, “Oh great – another rube with a fake twang and a sleeveless shirt and a cowboy hat.” And on top of that, I always thought his name sounded ludicrous, especially while being hollered by his starstruck fans (“Keeunnieeee Chayusnieee!!”). But I kept listening, only to discover that the dude wrote and sang some pretty damn good songs. The more I listened, the more I liked what I heard. The songs he doesn’t write, he chooses meticulously to fit his beachy, Buffetty vibe that blends perfectly with his more introspective material. Lo and behold, I was becoming a fan. Like Jeff Goldblum in The Fly with his ears falling off, I looked at myself in the mirror and wondered just what in the hell was happening to me. Let’s face it, I became hooked.

The culmination of this newfound fandom occurred last weekend when I went to see him live at Turner Field. It was an interesting lineup, consisting of Gary Allan (sucked), Leann Rimes (looked good but destroyed “I Want You To Want Me”), Sammy Hagar (of all people), and Brooks & Dunn (those vets know how to put on a show). But as soon as Kenny rose from the stage, he blew everyone else away. I’ve been to hundreds of concerts in my time but I must say that from a visual/production standpoint, it was the best concert I’ve ever seen. And the guy knows how to entertain. Not only that, but instead of running off with his ego at the end, he did something that I’d never seen before – he actually walked out onto the ramp and signed autographs while the band was still playing (granted, his band consisted of the same cheeseball types mentioned earlier). The guy is genuine and I like him and his music. So rag on me if you must – but you can bite me!

Classmates

2008-07-03T09:35:00.004-04:00

My 20 year HS reunion is coming up and I'm charge of the class DVD, which will consist of old photos along with a "then and now" segment of classmate pics. This job has turned into quite a daunting task since volunteering for it several months ago. By "volunteering", of course, I mean responding to a mass e-mail saying that I'd be glad to "help out" with the DVD. Result? Immediate message in my inbox saying "You're in charge of the DVD".

Anyway, since then I've received digital photos from nearly 100 of my former classmates, many of whom I literally haven't seen since graduation. It's been interesting to see how everyone looks now. There are several girls who were once normal looking but are now quite MILFy; several dudes who were and are still sorta nerdy but now have hot wives (how? $$); and some people that quite frankly look like ass. I'm genuinely interested in seeing and catching up with everyone, but it's a slap in the face reality check to realize that it's been 20 f**king years since I graduated from high school.

Oh, The Horror!

2008-06-27T13:54:00.003-04:00

I watched The Mist on DVD this week, based on a Stephen King novella and directed by Frank Darabont. I love Stephen King and Darabont (he directed The Shawshank Redemption and The Green Mile, also King adaptions). But The Mist is utter crap - a bad premise with a bad story and bad acting. What happened to the good old days of horror films? We went through a gore renaissance of sorts during the 70's and early 80's (a.k.a. the "slasher" films) but nowadays, no one knows how to make a good bloodfest for the screen. The scare tactics are cheap and the editing is too breakneck for my tastes.

I grew up with a genuine appreciation for these types of films. This might explain a lot to those of you who know me, but when I was a kid, my dad would take me to horror movies all the time. We'd wave goodbye to my mom, telling her that we were going to see the new Herbie movie. We'd end up, of course, going to see Halloween, Friday the 13th, or any number of campy classics from that era. And no, I didn't become a serial killer (at least not yet). So you can have your damn Saw movies - I'll take The Evil Dead (see above photo) any day of the week.

Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy

2008-06-25T09:27:00.004-04:00

Once promising but often troubled Bama football player Jimmy Johns was arrested yesterday and charged with 5 counts of selling cocaine as well as possession of a controlled substance. Johns was highly touted when he first arrived on campus but spent much of his time in the doghouse, especially once Nick Saban was hired.

Johns’ family arrived from Mississippi yesterday to bail him out of jail. Lee Thomas, who described himself as Johns’ “caretaker”, had this to say to The Tuscaloosa News:

“He may be done here, but he’s not done with football,” Thomas said. “He just got mixed up with the wrong people; that’s it. He’s a good kid. He knows he messed up. It’s his first offense. He’s going to come back."

Huh? First of all, this wasn't a mistake, a bad decision or a case of getting "mixed up with the wrong people". Johns was caught selling nose candy to undercover police officers not once, but FIVE different times. He knew what he was doing. And secondly, he's "going to come back"? To what exactly? The dumbass has been kicked out of school and off the team. Get in a bar fight or arrested for public intox, then you get a second chance to "come back". Not with this charge. In this case, the level of stupidity on his part reached monumental proportions. To see someone with this much talent and potential flush their future down the toilet is senseless and quite baffling. I hope he's able to wake up and turn his life around someday. Sad.

Dumb Slogan

2008-06-24T14:16:00.004-04:00

Today I was driving back from lunch and noticed a large tow truck, specifically designed to tow tractor-trailers. I didn't catch the name of the towing company but I did get a glimpse of the company's slogan - "Towing Alabama's Finest". WTF is that supposed to mean anyway? If the vehicles they tow are Alabama's finest, then why the hell are they having to be towed? I just shook my head at the thought of not only the schmo who came up with the tag line, but the company executive who gave it the thumbs up.

Farewell To A Legend

2008-06-23T13:14:00.004-04:00

George Carlin was one of those comedians, like Richard Pryor and Redd Foxx, whose albums I had to be sneaky about listening to when I was a kid. You never knew when he would break into a wonderfully nasty story or routine. My dad loved him, too, and as a birthday gift about 6 years ago, I took my him to see George Carlin when he last performed here. We had excellent seats and I was filled with nervous excitement as he walked onstage. Even though he was already in his 60's at the time, he was still as sharp and angry as ever. At one point, I remember tears running down my face as I bowled over with laughter. I seriously thought my organs were going to explode.

He was a legend, a genius and quite simply one of the funniest mofos to ever walk onto a stage. If you've never heard any of his albums, I implore you to listen to FM, A Place For My Stuff, You Are All Diseased, or any of his other works of brilliance. There will never be another one like him. May he rest in peace.

Where Are The Parents?

2008-06-20T17:06:00.005-04:00

Two WTF stories in one day:

Reports: Teen Girls Made Pact To Get Pregnant

GLOUCESTER, Mass. (AP) — A pact made by a group of teens to get pregnant and raise their babies together is at least partly behind a sudden spike in pregnancies at Gloucester High School, school officials said.

Principal Joseph Sullivan told Time magazine in a story published Wednesday that the girls confessed to making the pact after the school began investigating a rise in pregnancies that has left 17 girls at the school carrying a child. Normally, there are about four pregnancies a year at the school.

Sullivan told Time that nearly half of the expecting students, none over 16, were involved. Sullivan said students were coming to the school clinic multiple times to get pregnancy tests, and "seemed more upset when they weren't pregnant than when they were."

Some of the girls reacted to the news they were pregnant with high fives and plans for baby showers, Sullivan said. One of the fathers "is a 24-year-old homeless guy," Sullivan told the magazine.

Superintendent Christopher Farmer confirmed the deal to WBZ-TV, saying the girls had "an agreement to get pregnant."...

Former Teacher Surrenders On Sexual-Abuse Charges

BIRMINGHAM, Ala -- A former Clay-Chalkville Middle School teacher charged with second-degree sodomy and second-degree sexual abuse has surrendered to authorities and been released on bond.

Julie Pritchett, 34, turned herself in about 9 p.m. on Thursday, said Sgt. Randy Christian, spokesman for the Jefferson County Sheriff's Department. She has been charged with two counts of second-degree sodomy and one count of second-degree sexual abuse in cases of two boys younger than 16.

Pritchett allegedly had sexual relationships with eight male Clay-Chalkville High School students between the ages of 15 and 19 between February and April.

She was released on $66,000 bond, Christian said.

The teacher started a sexual relationship with a 15-year-old former student, and that relationship led to sex acts with his friends, Christian said. The sex acts were initiated by Pritchett, who used several methods of approaching the boys, Christian said. Some of the acts took place on the school's campus and others at the homes of the victims.