King's Eye Land

John and Eric's Words Are Awesome

2010-09-10T00:45:00.000-04:00

I'm John (right) and that's Eric (left). We started a podcast. Enjoy.

Little Round Mirrors

2010-01-18T11:48:00.002-05:00

This blog is on hold indefinitely while I work on this one.

Well, it was more or less on hold way before that, but still.

Stop by the other one, leave comments, enjoy.

Watchmen: I've Always Been A Big Fan

2009-03-02T16:22:00.001-05:00

I've been a fan of Watchmen since the beginning.

Yes, in the mid-1980s, when I was 10 years old, I knew that Watchmen was destroying comic book hero archetypes and rewriting American history and changing the face of the comics industry. I knew all of that.

I mean, I was 10. Of course I knew about Watchmen then. I used the word "archetype" in everyday conversation. I was 10. That's what you do when you're 10.

You didn't? Loser.

I knew about Watchmen before you and I liked it first. That's important because it gives me a sense of superiority. You were probably reading Archie comics then. I understand.

I could say that I spent most of my life reading Spider-Man, but Spidey is so passe at this point. To really be edgy, you need to eschew that Marvel crap, that DC crap, and go for real comic edge -- you know, stuff that Vertigo and Image put out.

Even those aren't edgy enough for me any more. No, I read underground comics exclusively. Shit no one has heard of, because it doesn't exist. Yet.

Except in my mind.

Yes, it's true. Even before anyone had heard of Watchmen, I was a fan. People who lived on my street -- a county road near Muncie, Indiana, snuggled between two cornfields -- were oblivious to the seismic hoo-ha that was Watchmen. I can remember the old lady whose lawn I used to mow. She didn't know about the Watchmen. I knew.

I remember the day Watchmen hit stores. I was all like, why did the earth just crack open and swallow the comic book universe as we know it? I wasn't worried. I rejoiced. See, comics were stale in the 1980s. We needed Watchmen. We needed them to watch over us. See how that works? Alan Moore thought of that.

Well, that's not technically true. That was me.

And that whole pirate thing? Building a raft out of rotten corpses? Don't you see the metaphor? I saw the metaphor. I'll admit I didn't get the metaphor when I was 10. I was 11, actually. I thought about rotten corpse metaphors a lot then. I call it my "Rotting Corpse Metaphor For The Death Of Superhero Mythos Phase."

You didn't have one of those?

In fact, I was a fan of Watchmen before I even heard of Watchmen, which means I was a fan before you and am therefore cooler. But you knew that.

Furthermore, I was a fan of Watchmen before Alan Moore wrote the thing, which just goes to show you how big a fan I am -- I know about shit before it even happens. That's clairvoyance, holmes.

So this week, when Watchmen opens in the theaters, you can be sure that, well, I won't be there.

Why?

Because I've already seen it.

And because I saw it before you, I can tell you that Watchmen was the greatest film ever made.

Watchmen the film might well be the greatest work of art ever made, if not for Watchmen the graphic novel.

But you knew that.

But I knew it first.

That's what's important.

That and Watchmen.

Ambient Intimacy Considered

2008-10-27T11:06:00.006-04:00

Let's get intimate...ambiently.

With Twitter, Facebook, and what's left of Myspace, we have the capacity, through social networking sites, to stay in touch with people without ever engaging them in person — without ever, in essence, touching them at all. You can maintain, by the slimmest of virtual threads, a relationship from miles away. You can keep tabs on who's having babies and getting married (not necessarily in that order, or even together). Who got a new job this week? Who bought a car? Who's hungover from last night's soiree?

Best of all, you don't even have to call them. That's so 1990.

I noticed ambient intimacy a few years ago, when I'd update my blog and my hit count would suddenly spike, no doubt the result of RSS feeds or Myspace blog subscriptions. Then I noticed that the only time I'd hear from people would be when I updated my Facebook profile in some way. Change one thing and BAM! tons of comments. Throwing out a simple profile edit is jumping on a moving train. I update my status results in comments, but only if the status update is interesting. No one comments if your status is just "John is in the shower." But try "John is voting for _________ this year" and see what happens. Well, if your name is John. Don't update your Facebook much? You likely don't get many comments.

Social networking is a necessary evil if we hope to stay in touch with people, but are we really staying in touch...or are we just keeping tabs? There is no sense of touch, though Facebook has the "Poke" feature, which is a simple way to show someone that you're still there, even if you're not talking. Thing is, "poking" is, I've found, more of a tool for the flirty or female social butterfly than anything two heterosexual men would be caught dead doing. We're not doing much in the way of personal contact.

In an ambient sense, we are constantly aware of what our friends are doing, so we maintain the details, but it's easy to forget how easy it is to know said details. Make a comment about changing jobs and, to your surprise, people you barely know will congratulate you. Announce your engagement before your fiancee has a chance to tell her friends, and well, you're an asshole. (Not that I lived that or anything.)

Puns abound, too. "Poke" a girl you used to date and you can say, "Hey! We're poking again!" *rimshot* [Insert shared laughter and idle reminiscence, followed by horrible memories and resentment anew.]

Whether this is healthy remains to be seen. We're able to "keep in touch," but we're not actually contacting. We're spying, in a way. And we don't even have to tell people we're watching.

John McCain: Cylon

2008-05-21T13:26:00.006-04:00

Colonel Saul Tigh, supposed member of the Final Five Cylon models:

John McCain, Republican presidential candidate:

Eerie.

So, do you want to vote for a Cylon?

Shenanigans

2008-05-07T01:49:00.001-04:00

With 99% of precincts reporting, Hillary Clinton has beaten Barack Obama in the Indiana Democratic primary by about 22,000 votes, with roughly 638,000 to Obama's roughly 615,000 votes (which, incidentally, is a shitload for the Indiana Democratic primary no matter how you see things).

However, some 1 in 10 Indiana voters claimed they were Republican.

Ten percent of 640,000 is 64,000. If, say, 64,000 Republicans showed up and voted for Clinton today, as Rush Limbaugh has encouraged, then we're talking about a game-changer.

By contrast, only Democrats and unaffiliated voters were allowed to vote in North Carolina, where Obama won handily.

So tell me again why Indiana allows Republicans to vote in the Democratic primary?

Civic Duty

2008-05-06T18:16:00.001-04:00

Bond

2008-04-29T03:09:00.003-04:00

Over dinner one night, someone asked, "Who was your favorite Dr. Who?" Without hesitation, I said, "George Lazenby!" Oh, that was something else.

Someone asked me to name my favorite Bond film today. I said:

Casino Royale
(or)
On Her Majesty's Secret Service
(or)
Goldfinger

I was surprised at how fast I could answer. But really, consider:

Connery's stuff is fine and all, but only Goldfinger and maybe Dr. No really work for me. From Russia, With Love ends too abruptly, and You Only Live Twice and Diamonds Are Forever are sloooow. I think I'm leaving one out. Thunderball was good. Jet packs. Not as good as Goldfinger, though.

Most of Roger Moore's suck. A View To A Kill is the one I like most, followed by The Man With The Golden Gun. The rest are lame, lame, lame. Unless I'm leaving one out. I try to block out most of Roger Moore's Bond movies.

Timothy Dalton. I liked both. I didn't like them better than the above, though.

Pierce Brosnan made one good Bond film - Goldeneye - followed by two mediocre ones that blend together and to this day I can't tell them apart, and one shitty one I won't name, but it involves an ice palace and a swordfight with Madonna. What a shit sandwich.

So, a while back, I watched On Her Majesty's Secret Service with low expectations. I mean, George Lazenby? But...he's pretty good! When you've seen Roger Moore and others suck it up, then you see George Lazenby take it on, it's pretty good, actually. Oh, sure, it's dated and a little silly, but Telly Savalas plays Blofeld!

Yeah. I'm comfortable with this.

1. Casino Royale

2. On Her Majesty's Secret Service

3. Goldfinger

You?

Pimping = Extreme Difficulty Rating

2008-04-19T00:16:00.003-04:00

Someone must've caught on to Dr. Seuss' pimping.

Record Store Day, 4.19.08

2008-04-18T06:53:00.001-04:00

If you can get past the fact that Metallica came up with this idea, this is actually a pretty cool thing.

March, 14, 2008: Austin, TX: While here at this SxSW 2008, organizers of RECORD STORE DAY in conjunction with Warner Bros. Records are pleased to announce that Metallica will officially launch Record Store Day on Saturday, April 19th, with an in-store signing and fan meet and greet at Rasputin Music’s Mountain View store near San Francisco, California (www.rasputinmusic.com). The event, the band’s first in-store appearance in nearly a decade, will also celebrate the 180 gram vinyl re-release of the band’s classic albums "Kill ‘Em All" and "Ride The Lightning" on April 15th.

The already heavily anticipated RECORD STORE DAY celebration will include the participation of hundreds of independently owned music stores across the country. All of these stores will simultaneously link and act as one with the purpose of celebrating the culture and unique place that they occupy both in their local communities and nationally. The support from musicians, fans, customers and the record industry by and large has been overwhelmingly evident from mash book entries. Visit: (www.recordstoreday.com)

"There’s nothing as glamorous to me as a record store. When I recently played Amoeba in LA, I realised what fantastic memories such a collection of music brings back when you see it all in one place. This is why I’m more than happy to support Record Store Day and I hope that these kinds of stores will be there for us all for many years to come. Cheers!" -- PAUL MC CARTNEY

“It’s important to keep indie record stores alive because their unique environments introduce music lovers to things in a very personal way.” – NORAH JONES

“I have watched independent record stores evaporate all over America and Europe. That's why I go into as many as I can and buy records whenever possible. If we lose the independent record store, we lose big. Every time you buy your records at one of these places, it's a blow to the empire.” –HENRY ROLLINS

"You can't roll a joint on an iPod - buy vinyl!" --SHELBY LYNNE
In addition to the above, record store stories from the likes of Cameron Crowe, Chuck Berry, Damien Rice, Damon Albarn, Del The Funky Homosapien, Ian Gillan, Joan Jett, kt Tunstall, Mike Patton, Patterson Hood (Drive-By Truckers), Patton Oswalt, Regina Spektor, Sam Phillips, Ziggy Marley, have been pouring in and the list keeps growing.

“For most indie record stores, the rumors of our demise are not just greatly exaggerated, they’re downright confusing,” says the organizers behind RECORD STORE DAY. As we continue to provide our communities with a rallying point for the arts, our customers are speaking loud and clear, “We’re not letting you guys go anywhere.”

Spearheaded by the Alliance of Independent Media Stores, Coalition Of Independent Music Stores, Music Monitor Network, Newbury Comics, Value Music Group of Indie Stores RECORD STORE DAY will work to set up special events at all participating stores on said date. The participating stores will provide customers with goodie bags filled with new formats, new releases, and exciting information on music, theatrical, comic book and gaming releases. They will also link to run extensive marketing campaigns both on a national level and a local level.

Prior to RECORD STORE DAY, the aforementioned coalitions hosted a successful introductory party on Saturday, March 15, at Waterloo Park here in Austin to further discuss this event. The Austin event was kicked into high gear with the announcement of the Metallica in-store. More news on this and other RECORD STORE DAY developments soon to come.

--

Click the banner above to visit recordstoreday.com and check out the list of stores to see if yours is participating. In Indy, both Vibes stores, both Luna stores, Indy CD & Vinyl, and Missing Link are participating. Just so happens, those are my six favorite shops around here.

I also contacted Village Green Records in Muncie, because as of this writing, they weren't on the list. Maybe they'll get on board too, but I don't know if they'll have the freebies.

Anyway. I'm not going to admonish people for stealing music or anything, but I will say that most of the positive experiences I've had with music have come from little record shops full of musty vinyl and used CDs. I'd like to keep that going. I've killed many an afternoon flipping through the racks at a little store...One Music and Stevie Ray's House of Wax (RIP) were staples of my college years.

Record stores are probably the sole reason why I don't drive a nicer car. They've contributed to the demise of my relationships (good thing, because I don't want to be with anyone who can't understand). They've also helped get me through the toughest times of my life, when I was at my lowest. I'd just go to a record shop and look around by myself. Pretty much, record shops are the only place I go by myself, other than work. I don't see movies or go to the mall by myself. But I'll hit a record shop any time.

I get the itch every weekend. It's like therapy. I don't always buy something. Sometimes just looking around is enough.

Sure, sometimes the prices are too high, but ten bucks for an album on iTunes is a little stiff if you ask me. I need something I can unwrap and touch and smell and see my reflection in or hear the pops. Sure, I could steal the music, but again, I can't touch that. Millions of consumers think the same way.

So if record shops go away completely, that would suck. Stop in at one on Saturday. You don't have to buy anything. But look around and see if anything jumps out at you. You can look at the used CDs or the "free box" or the T-shirts or, hell, the bongs for all I care. Let's not forget how important they are to American popular culture. Let's not allow record shops to go the way of drive-in movie theaters and drugstore soda fountains and the mom 'n' pop prettymuchanything. Help keep them going!

New Kids' Movie Playing

2008-04-05T23:04:00.003-04:00

Why I Love Baseball, Reason #1.

2008-04-03T10:45:00.004-04:00

Baseball is a game of moments, not a game of non-stop action, so you really have to pay attention and wait for the payoff. If you’re paying attention during one of those moments, you get rewarded. You see something really special. These moments don't happen every day, or even every game, and they're even sweeter when you can find video of them online.

For example.

Note how the commentator, Jeff Brantley, who by the way is a moron, goes on and on about how much Edwin Encarnacion, the batter, sucks. Stick with the clip and you’ll get one of those moments.

I met Henry Rollins, 3.6.08

2008-03-07T01:11:00.002-05:00

Look, a Henry sandwich.

I can still play outfield.

2008-03-03T11:37:00.002-05:00

“With so many teams in need of quality arms, guys are able to come back more than before. They’re giving their body a natural chance to recover, in addition to rehab. In the old days, there were some guys I knew who were in better shape and were better players in the beer league after they got hurt. They just couldn’t get a chance [to make a comeback]. But they got all the beer.”

- Dusty Baker, Cincinnati Reds manager

Once

2008-02-25T02:19:00.002-05:00

Definition of class:

What Jon Stewart did for Marketa Irglova by allowing her to come back out and give her acceptance speech after the orchestra played her off.

Considering her song was for a film that contemplated how often some opportunities come along, Stewart's gesture was perfect.

Watch here.

Amazing.

By jingo, buy American.

2008-02-08T17:54:00.001-05:00

I love clip-art.

Someone sent me a link to this article about the supposed tax rebate, which I've been planning to spend on debt all along because that's just how I roll.

Some highlights, starting with the idea that this isn't free money. It's actually your money, in advance (so don't plan Spring Break 2009 just yet):

"To produce this cash, Congress created a one-time tax credit to reduce taxable income for most taxpayers this year.

"Normally, you wouldn’t see that cash until the spring of 2009, when you filed your 2008 return. But Congress wants to speed that money to you now, so checks will start going out in May.

"Remember, this is your money you're getting back, and the rebate checks are basically an advance on your 2009 refund. When similar rebates were sent out in 2001, said tax expert Mark Luscombe, "a lot of people were upset to see their (next) refund reduced."

So here's what people plan to do with their money:

"Forty-seven percent of those polled by Harris Interactive for CCH and 42% polled by Zogby International for TransUnion said they planned to use the checks to pay down debt."

"Middle- and lower-income householders were more likely to say they were going to pay off debt. Debt payers included:
52% of those with household incomes of less than $35,000.
57% of those with incomes of $35,000 to less than $50,000.
50% of those with incomes of $50,000 to less than $75,000.
44% of those with incomes of more than $75,000."

If paying down debt isn't sexy enough for you, then spend your money on American products. (No sense in using an economic stimulus package to stimulate someone else's economy.)

"The whole point of these checks is ostensibly to keep the U.S. from sliding into a recession. Buying more stuff made in China won't accomplish that end. In fact, it will make our already mind-blowing trade deficit even worse.

"If you care about the U.S. economy, buy an Oreck vacuum, a Speed Queen washer or dryer, a Whirlpool dishwasher or an Amana fridge. Or plan a nice little getaway somewhere local, so you're spending on food, services and lodging that will keep the money in the U.S. rather than on foreign oil."

(At least until you give it to some business that turns around and spends on foreign products...)

Anyway, here's a blog with tips on how to spend your rebate most wisely.

I Beat Cancer

2008-02-04T13:33:00.001-05:00

My dermatologist just called. Biopsy results were negative. What they took off was a benign mole.

I just had four days of normal life, no different from the rest. Except for, you know, the lingering thought in the back of my mind that I was going to die of a mole.

The Thing From My Nose

2008-01-31T14:08:00.000-05:00

So this thing has been on the side of my nose since I was, what, 17? Something like that.

I've mostly just lived with this thing. It doesn't hurt and doesn't get irritated and most people don't even notice it (or don't point it out because there's such a thing as decorum). Lots of things show up on people's skin, you know? But lately it's been bothering me to look at, and once in a while I'll absent-mindedly scratch my nose and find myself bleeding in short order.

I had reservations about seeing a doctor, mostly because doctors suck and their billing and bureaucracy is even worse, and I never seem to have insurance that'll cover anything, and I had myself convinced it was a cosmetic thing. But I scheduled an appointment with a dermatologist down the street who is in my network, and decided to have it removed. I also have eczema on my hands (great for guitar playing, if by "great" I mean "not great"). So two birds with something something.

I went in this morning and the doctor couldn't have been cooler. She looked at my hands and said, "Yep, eczema." Then she gave me a prescription that's a bit better than the stuff I've been using (for three years).

Then she took a look at my nose and said, "Yep, basal cell carcinoma."

I sort of just stared at her for a moment while my inner Merck Manual fetched that definition...

Basal cell...carcin...carcinoma..? Carcinoma...like cancer...like skin cancer...like FUCKING SKIN CANCER?!?!?!?!!?!!!

(I didn't say "fucking" to the doctor.)

"Yep," she said. "But I don't want you digging your grave. It's very common among people who spend a lot of time outside, or in your case, if you spent a lot of time outside as a kid. It's totally treatable, but you need to get it removed. We can remove it right now."

"You mean like today?"

"Yes. Is that okay?"

"YES. I came in to get it removed, and now I really want it removed. I just thought it was a minor cosmetic thing and my insurance wouldn't cover it."

"They'll probably cover cancer," she said.

"Probably."

We laughed and she said, "I'll be right back."

So a few minutes later, they reclined me in a chair. I closed my eyes and the assistant gave me a local anesthetic. Then she poked my nose a lot with a needle, which contrary to what you might expect, hurt like a sumbitch until the local took over. Then I felt a scrape and a pull, some more scrapes and pulling, and lots of wiping. Then I felt some heat, and that was that.

Less than a minute later, the doc said, "Okay, you're done."

I teared up a bit while laid back in the chair. Bright lights and sharp needles and cutting things off my nose will do that. I asked for a tissue and said it was because I'm not a real man. They just laughed. Then I said, "I'm sorry, I just get emotional." Good times. I get biopsy results next week.

So now it's gone and all is well. For a dollar, you can touch my nose scab.

Postscript: For the record, it is not a good idea to call someone and say, "I have cancer," even if the kind you have is the most common and least likely to metastasize, and not worth worrying a whole lot about, as opposed to, say, brain cancer or something. Though you might think it's funny to seize the drama and play up the lack of severity for comic effect, other people don't always see things that way.

I'm not sure what all the fuss is over. They're not the one with cancer.

See? That's funny.

Anyway. That's my day so far.

The Cash Cow Lumbers On

2008-01-21T12:52:00.000-05:00

Just heard Rush is touring again this year. They'll be in Indy on June 25. That would be a Wednesday. Greaaat.

They're also releasing a 2-disc live album this year.

That makes something like 8 live albums. Here are the first seven:

All The World's A Stage
Exit...Stage Left
A Show Of Hands
Different Stages
Rush In Rio
R30
Grace Under Pressure Live

And if you're a fanboy, you probably have Run From The Fans and The Fifth Order of Angels, two unofficial (but still great sounding) live recordings. Live Under Pressure is just okay. I might have one or two more but don't recall.

Point being, is this really necessary? A live album after every tour? I mean, I like the Pearl Jam model of releasing every show in limited run...because if you're at the show you can have a document. But this Rush thing...I just don't know.

[He wrote while totally planning to buy everything they ever release because he's a lemming and they know.]

RIP Joe

2007-11-17T11:53:00.001-05:00

I'm not gonna write much about this because everyone is saying the same things. But if you hear anyone talking about him, they'll probably be saying the following: He was the voice of the Reds, of summer, of growing up.

I got to talk to Joe once during a rain delay, when they usually open the phone lines. I found out the guy played for a minor league team in Muncie called the Muncie Packers, so named because Jack Marhoefer, owner of Marhoefer Meat Packing, also owned the team. To think that Joe Nuxhall played in my hometown -- well, that was huge for a little kid like me at the time.

And every time Reds baseball came back in the spring, hearing Joe was like hearing a grandpa I never had -- one who'd call baseball games in that lazy, perfect, midwestern drawl. I've been listening to Reds games for 20 years. They'll never sound the same again.

Reds pitcher, broadcaster Nuxhall dies at 79

CINCINNATI -- Joe Nuxhall, who was the youngest player in major league history and the beloved "old left-hander" on Cincinnati Reds radio broadcasts, died overnight following a bout with cancer, the team said Friday. He was 79.

Nuxhall's health problems multiplied in recent years but couldn't keep him away from the game or the broadcast booth for long. He had surgery for prostate cancer in 1992, followed by a mild heart attack in 2001.

The cancer returned last February, when Nuxhall was preparing for the Reds' spring training in Sarasota, Fla. The broadcaster called some games last season even though his left leg was swollen by tumors. He was hospitalized again this week.

He retired as a full-time radio broadcaster after the 2004 season, the 60th anniversary of his historic pitching debut.

Nuxhall and play-by-play announcer Marty Brennaman described the Big Red Machine's two World Series titles in the 1970s, Pete Rose's return as player-manager and then banishment for gambling in the 1980s, and another World Series championship in 1990.

Nuxhall's place in baseball lore was secured the moment he stepped onto a big-league field. With major league rosters depleted during World War II, he got a chance to pitch in relief for the Reds on June 10, 1944.

No one in modern baseball history has played in the majors at such a young age -- 15 years, 10 months, 11 days old. He got two outs against St. Louis before losing his composure, then went eight years before pitching for the Reds again.

"When you think of all the individuals that played at the major league level and you're the youngest in the history of the game and in the Guinness Book of Records, it does make you in awe of it," Nuxhall said on the 50th anniversary of his debut.

He got the chance purely by chance.

Nuxhall grew up in nearby Hamilton, Ohio, and was still too young to shave when the Reds were looking for wartime replacement players. They came to see his father, Orville, who pitched in a Sunday league in Hamilton.

"My dad could throw hard," Nuxhall said. "They were really scouting him. Almost by accident, they found me."

Nuxhall was big for his age -- 6-foot-3, around 190 pounds -- and could throw 85 mph. The Reds offered a contract, and Nuxhall's parents let him join the team when junior high classes let out in 1944.

He spent most of the time watching from the bench, assuming he'd never get into a game. The Reds were trailing Stan Musial's St. Louis Cardinals 13-0 after eight innings on June 10, 1944, when manager Bill McKechnie decided to give the kid a chance.

Nuxhall was so rattled when summoned to warm up that he tripped on the top step of the dugout and fell on his face in front of 3,510 fans at Crosley Field. He was terrified when it came time to walk to the mound.

"Probably two weeks prior to that, I was pitching against seventh-, eighth- and ninth-graders, kids 13 and 14 years old," he said. "All of a sudden, I look up and there's Stan Musial and the likes. It was a very scary situation."

Nuxhall walked one and retired two batters before glancing at the on-deck circle and seeing Musial. Nuxhall unraveled -- Musial got a line-drive single, and the Cardinals scored five runs as the young pitcher lost his ability to throw a strike and failed to get another out.

"Those people that were at Crosley Field that afternoon probably said, 'Well, that's the last we'll see of that kid,"' Nuxhall said.

The Reds sent him to the minors. Eight years later, he was back with the Reds, picking up on a career that eventually got him into the team's Hall of Fame. He spent 15 of his 16 big-league seasons with the Reds, going 135-117 before his retirement in 1966.

A year later, Nuxhall started doing radio broadcasts, describing games in a slow-paced, down-home manner that caught on with listeners. Brennaman became the play-by-play announcer in 1974, and the "Marty and Joe" tandem spent the next 28 seasons chatting about their golf games, their gardens and some of the biggest moments in franchise history.

Brennaman made the broadcasters' wing of baseball's Hall of Fame with his blunt, outspoken style; Nuxhall rarely produced controversy with his folksy manner.

They had one high-profile moment together. Both were summoned to commissioner Bart Giamatti's office in 1988 because of their on-air comments after Rose bumped umpire Dave Pallone and was ejected. Angry fans threw debris on the field for 15 minutes as Brennaman harshly criticized the umpire.

Nuxhall became more critical as his broadcasting career wound down. He created a stir in 2001 by suggesting on the air that Barry Larkin was no longer capable of playing shortstop. Larkin, the team captain at the time, replied that he was hampered by injuries.

Just as Brennaman is known for his "This one belongs to the Reds" proclamation after a win, Nuxhall developed a signature signoff. He concluded postgame interviews by saying, "This is the old left-hander, rounding third and heading for home," a saying that is illuminated across the top of the Reds' administration building.

Copyright 2007 by The Associated Press

I've got writing gigs out the ass.

2007-10-16T01:49:00.000-04:00

So I'm a paid writer again, sort of. I start soon at Indy.com in their TV/Celebrity section, wherein I plan to not talk about how "fat" Britney Spears is or how Paris Hilton took her dog swimming. I don't care about that stuff, and neither should you.

I'm hoping to actually generate cultural criticism as relevant to television, and hopefully make said writing funny. That's about all I can hope for at this juncture. The site goes live soon (if not already) so stay tuned.

And I'll be here some as well.

And I'm supposed to be at NUVO too (link at right). Workin' on it.

I'm spread mighty thin.

Presence

2007-10-02T11:16:00.001-04:00

In a quest to track down people from high school, I've been unable to locate several. This is normal -- in 1980. Now we have the Internet, and avoiding such a thing is next to impossible, or so I thought.

Many, many people I know are simply...not there.

I'm very skeptical of people who have no Internet presence whatsoever. Like if you Google them, nothing comes up. To the Internet, they don't exist. You can't even find public record of them online. No Myspace account, no Facebook, no name in print anywhere, no Internet alter-ego -- how is this possible in 2007? This is the modern equivalent of not appearing in the phone book.

But why? Why hide? Why resist the onslaught of technology. Tons of reasons, I reckon.

A choice, to be sure -- avoiding Internet involvement has to be, unless one lives beyond the digital divide. Some probably prefer not to be found, as high school wasn't exactly everyone's most stellar moment (if high school was your life's peak, you are a sad excuse for a a human being).

Perhaps some chose to be mountain men?

This troubles me. I know these people existed. I just can't find them now.

It doesn't have the dots...

2007-10-01T00:58:00.000-04:00

Very funny look at guitar tablature. Special guests include Mark Knopfler, David Gilmour, and Lemmy...

Into the Wild

2007-09-20T02:11:00.000-04:00

Trying to read Jon Krakauer's Into the Wild before the film opens, but I don't think I'll make it. That sucks. But I'm trying anyway.

Early opinions of the film seem sort of mixed; I don't really care.

This is one hell of a music video.

Eddie Vedder and Corin Tucker covering Indio's "Hard Sun," from a looooong out of print CD called Big Harvest. At last check, Amazon had one used copy for $224. Whatever.

Vedder's soundtrack is pretty stellar. Some of the songs are too short to be considered "songs" -- they're more like snippets or ideas for songs that never come to fruition or really go anywhere. Then again, that's Christopher McCandless, in a way.

I can't wait for this film.

"The Pop Tart"

2007-09-15T21:43:00.000-04:00

Dear Entertainment Weekly,

Future scholars will cite your Sept. 21 issue as an example of how irresponsible media organizations once helped give young women an unrealistic perception of themselves. Notice how the "fat" pop tart gets the cover, plus a two-page spread, plus eye-catching design, infographics, and two pages of writing, mostly ridiculing her (and pandering to readers who love schadenfreude). In contrast, the "In Defense" article got four dense, grey columns across two pages with no dominant art or infographics, making it virtually unreadable by design. I couldn't care less about the pop tart, but agenda setting shouldn't be so transparent.

You can run on, for a long time...

2007-09-14T12:13:00.000-04:00

In 2003, my grandmother died on Aug. 13. Warren Zevon died on Sept. 7. Johnny Cash died on Sept. 12. They're forever linked in my head.

I never got into Zevon until just before he died, when the cancer was killing him and he was trying to record his last album. I liked The Wind, but when I got Learning To Flinch, I knew I had something special.

Here's one of Warren's last live appearances, on the Late Show.

Johnny Cash provides a little reminder for us this fall.

Every Cuss Word We Know

2007-09-08T10:13:00.001-04:00

Enjoy this filth.

Ouch.

2007-09-07T13:23:00.000-04:00

Angry Rednecks Are Funny

2007-09-05T10:33:00.000-04:00

Ah, Alabama -- bastion of progress. "Top Gear," a British television show, visits the deep south to stir up debate (putting it mildly):

Creativity wise, it's not much different than painting "Man U Sucks" and driving through a crowd of hoolies, or "Down With The Queen," or "Iron Maggie Was A Lesbo" and so on. Stirring people up is easy no matter where you go, so long as you find people ignorant enough to resort to violence -- which isn't hard either.

But I will say this: Rednecks are a whole lot funnier than hoolies. Give the show credit for that.

Cheer Up Sleepy Jean

2007-09-03T11:42:00.000-04:00

Read a bit about the Monkees today. There's a band that would never have any credibility today, but would still sell a blue gajillion records.

Going to see Balls of Fury today. I'm sure it will be ridiculous. There will be food involved beforehand so there's that.

So far I've been unsuccessful in my attempts to persuade anyone to see The Bourne Ultimatum, despite the film's eleventy billion dollar box office receipts so far. I think I'm missing the window of opportunity, and may have to wait for DVD.

Job #1 is going okay. Job #2 could be better. Regular four-day weekends, though. Can't ask for much more when most of the work gets done at home.

Purchased and read a copy of my homeslice Andrew's chapbook. As I read, I couldn't help but wonder why I'm not doing more with myself. How come I don't have a chapbook? How come I don't have any pubs since leaving INtake? My homeslice Andrew can do it. Why don't I?

What have I been doing? I haven't written any fiction since 2004. Just columns and this labyrinthian screenplay that I'm close to abandoning. Gotta find a purpose...

Letter From 1975

2007-08-01T12:44:00.000-04:00

My great-grandmother sent my parents a letter shortly after I was born. I found it in a stack of old photographs, like the one in the previous entry. Anyway, here it is. Click on each page to read it, as I can't make them any bigger without jacking up Blogger.

The part where she tells my dad to set a good example is particularly poignant.

Just an ordinary letter to some, but for a guy who doesn't have much to connect to the past, this is huge. Great-grandma died more than 20 years ago. This is why families hold on to every little thing.

Hold On To Your Butts...

2007-08-01T12:07:00.000-04:00

That's me with my 5th grade teacher, Mr. Richards. I don't remember being so patriotic, or smug looking. Anyway, this is the teacher who made me want to be a teacher, and I'll be damned if I let any assholes tell me different. This is what I do.

I've been reading Michael Crichton books in an effort to purge my mind of pressure to get something done, and maybe so I can see someone else's transparent formula and hope to hide mine better. Also, I have a weakness for Crichton. Goes back to Jurassic Park.

In other news, my colleagues are doing some cool stuff. I bring this up because, well, I'm not lately. My back hurts and my Reds suck balls. I'm sort of mired. Blah. Ya know?

I would be remiss if I did not point out Shorthand P. Davis and his Myspace page. He's a colleague of mine, and I'm all for his fusion of low-fi and postmodern whatsit.

He's even got a Web site: http://www.artisnecessary.com. He's even got a blog promoting his book of poetry, Hitler's Mustache (linked at right).

Then over at Andrew's blog, he continues to post thoughful stuff about stuff. Sometimes he writes me and calls me "lazy fuck" for not posting in, oh, a month. That's okay. Andrew has a chapbook thang out too called Modern Love

Victoria has a thang too. So you ten people who check this blog, check these out too.

I'm doing stuff, but not the kind of stuff one can post. See, I do screenplays, and I can't really post those. Maybe I can get a video or something done this year. That'd be cool.

I'm not trying to run you off. I'm just saying.

Ryan Adams: Photograph Me While I Smoke.

2007-06-26T00:33:00.000-04:00

Ryan Adams' new disc, Easy Tiger, hits stores today, which can only mean one thing: It is time for Ryan Adams to pose for pictures while smoking. It is, after all, part of his public persona. He must remind you that he smokes, and often.

Come Hither and Pick Me Up Smoker Ryan Adams:

Sure, Adams plays a mean guitar, writes a great lyric, releases great albums. These things are trivial by comparison.

Forget all of that, and just remember: Ryan Adams smokes.

The prolific musician has smoked in many places, and he has been photographed doing so. Here are some of the many smoker faces of Ryan Adams, who smokes, incidentally:

Wacked-Out Smoker Ryan Adams:

Flick My Bic Smoker Ryan Adams:

This Smoker Posing On Albums Is Old Hat To Me Smoker Ryan Adams:

Depressed Millionairess Smoker Ryan Adams

This Picture Was Taken Before I Could Lift My Cigarette Into The Frame, Oh Crap I Didn't Realize My Eyes Were Shut Too, Smoker Ryan Adams:

I Am Not Posing While Smoking Smoker Ryan Adams

It's Tough Being Ryan Adams, Who Pensively Ponders While Smoking Smoker Ryan Adams

What more needs to be said, really, except that Ryan Adams smokes?

Easy Tiger is a good album. I'll add that.

And he smokes.

The Faces of Orson Welles

2007-06-19T03:35:00.001-04:00

King's Eye Land favorite Orson Welles returns in all his corpulent glory here, reposted from Myspace:

The career of Orson Welles fascinates me. Look at this arc, set chronologically.

Citizen Kane:

The Third Man:

Schill:

Asshole:

Drunken Parody of Himself:

Unicron: Most Ironic Role Ever -- Huge, Planet-Eating Machine

Parodied - The Critic:

The Rattley Carrot of DOOOOOOOM!!!

2007-06-19T03:11:00.000-04:00

This is our rabbit. Enjoy. For 14 seconds.

The Subjectivity of Effective Writing

2007-06-18T02:09:00.000-04:00

Good writing, or effective writing (semantics), is often a matter of personal taste on the part of the reader rather than craft on the part of the author.

Sure, one can aim for a general audience and try to reach everyone, but really, there's no accounting for taste, and the writer should not suffer. I wonder how many books sit, unpublished, simply because they don't have an audience. They're wonderfully written and tell a great story, but who the heck wants to read this? Who would buy this? Can we put it on an endcap with Cormac McCarthy and Barbara Kingsolver and Nick Hornby?

Plenty of published authors aren't effective, at least to this blogger. Cormac McCarthy, for example, is not effective to me because he doesn't use quotation marks, and I find the whole concept distracting and pretentious. Ezra Pound, as another example, is not effective unless one is fluent in four languages and gets all the oblique references. I find him inaccessible and purposely complex, as though he is trying to confound any readers who aren't of the same realm of experience. It's offputting.

Both McCarthy and Pound are widely recognized as great writers -- canonized, even. Literature scholars love them because they break rules and epitomize movements and create such memorable images and characters.

But among modernists, why would anyone read Pound when William Carlos Williams is so much more accessible, not so elite?

Let's reconsider effectiveness...

A writer takes an assignment -- write about the first time you fired a gun. The writer punches out a wonderful article about his time spent in Vietnam, fighting the Viet Cong, losing innocence, virginity, his mind, and only marginally discusses firing a gun for the first time -- although he includes it.

Is it possible that the writer's outpouring has transcended the boundaries of the assignment rather than disregarding them?

And is that effective writing, if a reader -- any reader, mind you -- picks up the article and reads it, unaware of the original assignment?

Imagine a great song that started with an idea -- "Let's write a song about the IRS." -- only to result in The Beatles' "Taxman."

Perhaps we've gotten hung up on guidelines and boundaries. Perhaps Pound and McCarthy would argue the same. If we must write, we must write competently, to be sure, but we must also write honestly, refusing to shoehorn ourselves if our chosen form doesn't fit. If a piece of writing wants to be a short story, so be it, regardless of whether the editor or teacher wanted a poem. Screw 'em, and screw their guidelines.

Writing isn't about following a prescription so much as a spontaneous outpouring of art.

Save Darfur With John Lennon Covers.

2007-06-17T01:59:00.000-04:00

Like a lot of benefit/tribute albums with various artists, this had a chance to suck, but really doesn't.

Sure, there are hits and misses, but the good and even mediocre tracks outweigh the bad here, making this a decent pickup.

Obviously, this is just one listener's opinion. Preview on iTunes here for 34 track version and here for 23 track version. Note that the 23-track version is the one available in most stores, and the 34 track seems to be an iTunes exclusive extended version? Guess that makes up for not getting liner notes?

This will focus on the storebought, 23-track version.

The Good:

The Postal Service - "Grow Old With Me" - Easily the best thing here.
Snow Patrol - "Isolation"
Jack Johnson - "Imagine"
R.E.M. - "#9 Dream" (with Bill Berry on drums!)
Green Day - "Working Class Hero"
Jackson Browne - "Oh, My Love"
Youssou N'Dour - "Jealous Again"
The Flaming Lips - "(Just Like) Starting Over"
Regina Spektor - "Real Love"
Jack's Mannequin w/Mick Fleetwood (?) - "God"

I was afraid, but this is pretty solid. I just wish they'd left "God" untouched. Something about covering what is probably Lennon's most intensely personal song just doesn't sit right.

The "Meh" (can take or leave these):

Matisyahu - "Watching The Wheels"
U2 - "Instant Karma"
Lenny Kravitz - "Cold Turkey" - This track sounds exactly like you think it will.
Corinne Bailey Rae - "I'm Losing You"
Jakob Dylan/Dhani Harrison - "Gimme Some Truth"
Ben Harper - "Beautiful Boy"
Jaguares - "Gimme Some Truth" - more faithful than the other, but Pearl Jam's cover is better. It's not here.

The Bad:

Avril Lavigne - "Imagine" - This should speak for itself.
Aerosmith + Sierra Leone Refugee All-Stars(?!?!) - "Give Peace A Chance" - Putrid, shockingly horrid tripe.
Los Lonely Boys - "Whatever Gets You Through The Night" - I just hate this milquetoast, shithouse band.
Big & Rich - "Nobody Told Me" - OMG.
Black Eyed Peas - "Power To The People" - Gag.

Really not a bad collection at all, and quite diverse. I can't say how often I'll spin this, but it's fine.

So Long, Bob.

2007-06-07T03:45:00.001-04:00

On June 15, Bob Barker's last episode as host of "The Price Is Right" will air, ending a 35 year run for the 83-year-old.

As a child, I remember spending mornings at my grandmother's house, watching a dark-haired Bob Barker introduce games and fabulous cash and prizes. I don't remember any one show, but I remember my surroundings -- Granny's ugly shag carpet, the smell of her Cambridge cigarettes stinking up the house, the yellow walls, the dusty furniture, and the gigantic portrait of an unnamed matador that hung over her two easy chairs in the living room. That living room never changed, and for a long time, TPIR was a part of that living room.

Like that living room, TPIR barely changed in 30 years.

Johnny Olson was the announcer when I was a kid. There has never been a game show announcer like him. No one could say "Come on down!" like Johnny Olson (follow the link and understand).

Rod Roddy followed after Olson's death in 1985. He was flamboyant and funny, but he was no Johnny Olson. He had big shoes to fill. Roddy died in 2003. Gen-Y folks will identify him more readily and probably prefer him. He is, after all, the one they know.

Rich Fields took over after Roddy's death. I haven't watched the show much since Roddy died. However, maybe once a month or so, I'd turn on to see how Bob Barker was doing. He'd gotten frail, but he kept going. He could still give that big damn wheel a spin.

I bring up the announcers to illustrate Barker's longevity. The guy outlasted two announcers, and at 83, is going out on his own terms. Talk about an achievement.

Frankly, TPIR will never be the show I grew up watching. The yodeling mountain climber, the punchwall, the big wheel, the showcase -- these are morning staples. Taking Bob Barker out changes each event at its core.

You can't tell me that the putting game will be the same without Bob Barker trying his hand before the contestant's putt.

Female contestants who run up on stage will kiss another guy on the cheek, and if they bid closely enough, they'll reach into another guy's coat pocket to pull out a $100 bill. Men will shake hands with another guy, and possibly hug another guy if they win, say, a boat.

That's not right.

I've marveled at how little "The Price Is Right" has changed over the years. The sets are virtually the same as they were when I was a child. The beauties are different, Barker's hair is grayer, and the products are modern, but the music, the sets, and the premise are all the same. It's like looking through a wormhole to the 1970s.

My grandmother worked at Kmart then. For some reason, TPIR, Kmart, and Grandma are all linked. Hey, I was little. Hush.

For a show that has changed so little in my life, the departure of Bob Barker should be (and is) earthshattering to me. No longer can I turn on TPIR and see the same face. It won't feel right -- like the first time a divorced parent introduces you to the New Boyfriend or New Girlfriend. The pairing won't match, and will take some time.

In a way, this is another vestige of my time spent with Granny. When she died, all I had left were memories, mostly of childhood, and those things like TPIR that outlasted her are now fading away.

However, I suppose like Leno taking over for Carson or O'Brien taking over for Letterman, this will be a huge change that I get used to in time. As George Harrison sang, "All things must pass."

It is bittersweet to see Bob Barker retire, as I'm just selfish enough to want him to host the damned show forever so I can hang on to those memories of Granny a little clearer, but everyone's time comes, and certainly, at 83, he's earned his rest.

Certainly, those memories of Granny won't fade completely. Every time I hear the music or the sound of the yodeler or even the dingdingding of the bells on contestants' row, I'll be right back in that dim, smoky living room, right there with her, for a second or two. That's just enough.

I'll bid a bunch of money and she'll bid a dollar. She'll win. Nothing ever changes.

So long, Bob, and thanks for everything.

Because it bears saying...

2007-05-18T04:14:00.000-04:00

The author is a huge metal fan, and he understands the baggage of peer pressure inherent in such an admission. Yes, his friends may ridicule him, poking fun at his affection for Ronnie James Dio and his madcap, elven rock histrionics, or perhaps Ozzy Osbourne's mischievous, dove head-eating, neurological brown-outed ways.

But one must not neglect the contributions of Tony Martin to the mighty Black Sabbath. He, who sang on The Eternal Idol, a grotesquely underrated effort from the Sabbath ouevre, brought vocal power and hilarious posturing without a sense of rock irony. Nay, these metal gods represent! Hyuh!

One listen to the first cut, "The Shining" (iTunes link) and your metal doubts will fall away. Hear that sliding chord progression from The Man Himself, guitarist Tony Iommi. Hear Tony Martin's vocal posturing, which isn't that far off from how Trey Parker and Matt Stone sound on the Orgazmo soundtrack. Listen to this album! Grow some testicles!

Now you're a mmmwaaan!

The author is aware that this entry will damage any feeble credibility he may have established with past admissions of liking Gob Iron or Moby. He is aware, yes, but he does not care what you think, for you do not yet understand the true rock godliness of the Sab.

He thinks The Eternal Idol might well be the best Tony Martin-era Black Sabbath album, and while that's not saying a whole lot, it is, in fact, saying something. Even if the lyrics aren't.

When the author determines what that something is, he will alert you all.

"Rise up!"

Happy Cinco de Mayo.

2007-05-05T15:19:00.000-04:00

...neighbors.

2007-03-16T19:30:00.000-04:00

I just had the most entertaining telephone conversation with a neighbor. Here's a transcript, at least as well as I can recall it:

CALLER: "Hi. How's it going?"

ME: "Fine. Who's this?"

CALLER: "Lionel. I'm one of your neighbors. A group of us are getting together and talking about some issues. We're just calling our neighbors to see if we can get some opinions on some things going on, and ask them how they feel about religion."

ME: "..."

CALLER: "Hello?"

ME: "How did you get this number?"

CALLER: "We have lots of numbers."

ME: "Did you get this number from the leasing office?"

CALLER: "I'm sorry?"

ME: "The leasing office. The apartment office. The landlords. Did you get this number from them?"

CALLER: "We have lots of numbers."

ME: "Yeah, but how'd you get mine? We're on a Do Not Call List, and we're unlisted. So how did you get this number? Did someone at the leasing office give you our number?"

CALLER: "No, sir. We have a list."

ME: "Who are you?

CALLER: "Lionel."

ME: "Who do you represent?"

CALLER: "I'm one of your neighbors."

ME: "At the apartment complex?"

CALLER: "No."

Silence, then:

ME: "Are you calling on behalf of a non-profit organization?"

CALLER: "No."

ME: "Then who do you represent?"

CALLER: "Jehovah's Witnesses."

ME: "Ah, there it is."

CALLER: "We're just trying to talk to our neighbors."

ME: "You keep saying that. Where are you? Do you live here?"

CALLER: "Jehovah's Witnesses are everywhere, sir."

ME: "Well, that's reassuring."

CALLER: "Let me ask you something. Why do you think people are so sensitive about religion?"

ME: "Because it's an extremely private thing that people can either do individually or among like-minded people at a church, synagogue, mosque, whatever. You don't just call total strangers and ask them about it. You're going to upset people."

CALLER: "What did Christ say about spreading the Word?"

ME: "I'm not a Bible scholar."

CALLER: "Don't you think Jesus walked up to total strangers and asked them about their faith?"

ME: "I wasn't there!"

CALLER (laughing): "Well that's a good answer."

ME: "I can tell you this. Jesus didn't call them on the phone."

CALLER: "Well they didn't have phones back then."

ME: "Fair point, but these days, you don't just call random people to ask them about their faith. People are very sensitive about their privacy."

CALLER: "Why? Isn't it sad to say that about our world, where people are so sensitive? That they're so paranoid they live in fear of others who believe differently?"

ME: "I don't think it's that exactly. Approaching total strangers and striking up a conversation about most private matters can be unsettling. Plus, people are wary of strangers, and rightly so. It's none of your business what I think about religion. The world we live in now -- you could be anybody -- a pervert, a psycho, or the guy who lives next door. How do I know you're who you say? I don't even know where you are right now."

CALLER: "I can respect that, sir. We're not trying to upset you by calling. We're just trying to make people aware of this free book we have, and we can send that out to you at no charge if you're interested."

ME: "Oh come on. This is no way to sell your religion."

CALLER: "Whoa, I'm not trying to sell anything here. Who said anything about selling?"

ME: "I'm using 'sell' as a figure of speech. You're not going to convert people or spread your message very effectively by invading people's privacy and asking personal questions. What you believe is what you believe, but what you're doing right now is wrong."

CALLER: "Sir, I can tell you're upset..."

ME: "I'm not upset. I'm just a little weirded out right now, and I'm trying to tell you that what you're doing is wrong and you shouldn't be doing this."

CALLER: "We're just trying to spread the Word of Christ."

ME: "I appreciate that, but this is Indiana. We have the Word of Christ already. We don't need strangers calling and posing as our neighbors, then being evasive when asked who they represent, and asking personal questions out of the blue. This is just really weird. You know that, right? Think about what you're doing, man."

CALLER: "I think about religion all the time, sir."

ME: "That's not what I'm saying!"

CALLER: "Well, look, if you're not interested in the book, that's fine. The last thing we want to do is upset you. Thanks for your time. I'm sorry we bothered you."

ME: "That's not--"

*click*

Bastard hung up on me. He didn't even get what I was saying. How can you be so obtuse?

Baseball = Warmth.

2007-03-01T15:29:00.000-05:00

Man, I'm happy to hear Marty Brennaman's voice again. The erstwhile Reds announcer has returned to the airwaves to call Reds-on-Radio games, and this year, he's working alongside his son, Thom.

Added to the mix is former Red Jeff Brantley, whose voice grates on me a bit (he's a lot like Tim McCarver).

Just hearing a Reds game is awesome. I've got the radio on in the apartment and baseball is here. It might be dreary and nasty outside, but baseball is on inside and that means I'm happy.

Heroes: Pissing Me Off

2007-02-14T21:33:00.000-05:00

Where is this show going? Anyone?

One by one, they introduced ordinary people with extraordinary abilities. We learned that each person has roughly one power. One guy can fly, though he's only done it once, several episodes ago. [Side Note: Haven't we been led around by the promise of someone flying on another show?]

They made "Save the cheerleader, save the world" a household catchphrase. They introduced a formidable foe in the person of Sylar. Now we have the Petrelli kid running around with The Invisible Dr. Who guy, but we don't know where that's going. Come to think of it, neither character even appeared in this week's episode. Ridiculous! Maybe they were invisible.

They introduced so, so many characters that it's just hard to keep up, and every week, we meet a new character. (This was episode 15, and we've met roughly 2,017 characters by now.)

This week, we met a guy who could melt metal objects with his mind -- except we didn't even get to see him do it because Sylar got to him first! So now we're meeting new heroes but we're not even seeing them use their powers.

Sounds to me like a really boring show that's going nowhere.

This is a show that went on hiatus for two months, and they haven't been the same since returning. The shows are moving slowly, uneventfully, and on the most random tangents. Nothing is happening. Every week, we're treated to some "tantalizing bit of info" (did anyone suspect Claire's real father was anyone else?).

Horn-Rimmed Glasses guy (who really needs to visit Lens Crafters and get something better looking) just keeps on chugging in his own way, with little to no information about his background, his motivation, or where this show is going.

The Haitian and Claire have some sort of odd, unmotivated alliance, but only when it's convenient for the plot.

Officer Parkman can still read minds, but not every mind and not every episode.

Ali Larter's character, Nikki/Jessica, is just fucking annoying. I don't like evil Jessica, but I don't like good-hearted Nikki, either, so I don't care where her arc is going. Even her son has powers over machines. Except he doesn't use the power.

More characters with extraordinary abilities they never use. Everyone has powers but no one is using them!

Last week, nothing happened. Holly missed the episode and watched it this week. "Did anything happen last week?"

Is this a show about superheroes or not? Or, worse, with the "save the cheerleader" arc, has the show somehow jumped the shark in its first season?

It's just a terribly frustrating reminder of why I stopped reading comics and now read trade paperbacks exclusively.

Trouble is, I have to wait for the entire first season of "Heroes" on DVD before this will all make any sense.

Assuming anything happens before the end of the season, that is.

Entertainment Weekly Subscription: Re-Justified

2007-02-12T23:52:00.000-05:00

I'm a big Ricky Gervais fan. For me, the BBC version of "The Office" is one of the best television shows ever made, and certainly the funniest. I've never laughed harder than at David Brent's version of "If You Don't Know Me By Now," which is complete with flowing white button-up shirt, exaggerated vocal histrionics and a soaring dove.

So I was delighted to find a spotlight article on Ricky Gervais in the current issue of Entertainment Weekly. There, I learned of Ricky Gervais' first taste of fame -- the new wave band Seona Dancing.

Visit that site and check out the four songs they released. Wild stuff. Apparently they were huge among teens in Manila.

Greatest Hits: King's Eye Land, 3.1.04

2007-02-12T11:32:00.000-05:00

While reading Aaron Hohenbrink's blog here, I didn't really get outraged about the issue so much. I did find it troubling that the issue and arguments really haven't changed since I wrote the following in grad school...

Opposition Dogs Gay Community, Forces Alienation

Those opposing homosexuality often say the same thing: "I don't mind that they're gay. It's just when they act on their gay urges."

See, the opposition doesn't have a problem with how homosexuals wear hair gel or dress nicely or project an outward appearance of anything considered quintessentially gay.

Fashion, interior design -- those gay people have real purpose.

Gay people are so funny, too. Sure, many people believe all gay people are going to Hell, but while those gay people are here on Earth, they sure are entertaining.

Boy, that "Will and Grace" is funny. Rosie O'Donnell is a darling. The star power of Rock Hudson or James Dean or Freddie Mercury can't be questioned.

See? America accepts gay people -- look at our gay celebrities!

The problem is when gay people have gay sex. The opposition hates the gay sex. They don't even want to think about the gay sex. "Can't you just have normal sex?" they ask.

Gay people can be gay, as long as they don't act on their gay urges by having gay sex with other gay people in a gay setting, probably listening to gay music by gay musicians like that gay guy Rufus Wainwright, or perhaps that lesbian woman, Melissa Etheridge, or the Indigo Girls (one of who isn't actually a lesbian, and a good thing, because America isn't ready for a lesbian duo that might be having lesbian sex backstage).

Yes, the idea troubles the opposition, as gay people are whiling away the gay night having the gay sex that millions of closeted gay Americans wish they could have if innocent but gay Americans weren't scorned, ridiculed and persecuted by their pro-gay-but-anti-gay-sex countrymen in this, our free country.

But they can still be gay.

So, gay readers, instead of acting on your gay urges by having gay sex, simply be gay, but lead a heterosexual life with a heterosexual partner, having heterosexual sex in a heterosexual setting. Do that, and there's no problem.

Imagine, you and a heterosexual partner entwined in a heterosexual position, while heterosexual musicians like Toby Keith play softly in the background, singing songs about the greatness of America: a land where we're all so friggin' free.

When you're done with your awkward heterosexual sex, be sure to pray to Jesus and thank him for giving you the strength to overcome your gay urges and carry on a "normal" heterosexual relationship with a heterosexual partner.

Men, when you're done praying, turn up Toby Keith and try not to stare at his jheri-curled mullet, how sexy it is, shimmering with water...those biceps...that swanky guitar...and that alpha-male persona that screams "pitcher."

Stop yourself! Suppress the gay urges! Think about baseball!

Run to your heterosexual partner and hold that person in the night, rocking gently, humming "So Happy Together" and wishing you lived in a country that accommodated every one of its citizens rather than a majority of them.

Perish the thought. You're better off spending the rest of your life fighting how you were designed and trying desperately to be accepted by your countrymen.

Then, when you've finally buried your true self and blended in with the flock, the opposition will accept you for what you are.

News Capsule: Feb. 8-9, 2007

2007-02-09T12:33:00.000-05:00

Anna Nicole Smith Anna Nicole Smith Anna Nicole Smith Anna Nicole Smith Anna Nicole Smith Anna Nicole Smith Anna Nicole Smith Anna Nicole Smith Anna Nicole Smith Anna Nicole Smith Anna Nicole Smith Anna Nicole Smith Anna Nicole Smith Anna Nicole Smith Anna Nicole Smith Anna Nicole Smith Anna Nicole Smith war Anna Nicole Smith Anna Nicole Smith Anna Nicole Smith Anna Nicole Smith Anna Nicole Smith Anna Nicole Smith Anna Nicole Smith Anna Nicole Smith Anna Nicole Smith Anna Nicole Smith Anna Nicole Smith Anna Nicole Smith poverty Anna Nicole Smith Anna Nicole Smith Anna Nicole Smith Anna Nicole Smith Anna Nicole Smith issues affecting real people Anna Nicole Smith Anna Nicole Smith Anna Nicole Smith Anna Nicole Smith Anna Nicole Smith Anna Nicole Smith Anna Nicole Smith Anna Nicole Smith Anna Nicole Smith Anna Nicole Smith Anna Nicole Smith Anna Nicole Smith Anna Nicole Smith Anna Nicole Smith Anna Nicole Smith Anna Nicole Smith Anna Nicole Smith.

The Black Keys Could Rock God's Face Off

2007-01-29T03:23:00.000-05:00

I was trying to be the 50 millionth blogger to recommend The Broken West this month, in hopes of maybe winning a car or a shopping spree or something. I had good intentions.

However, in trying to find the entire album out there in Etherville and write a decent middle-of-the-night review and somehow say things that no one else has said, I fell victim to distraction.

I ran across this video from The Black Keys:

And now I can't remember what I was going to say that was so important.

[Edit: The brief moments of dialogue are genius. "My neck hurts."]

The Third Mang.

2007-01-24T02:27:00.000-05:00

No link to free movies this time -- just some thoughts on Carol Reed's 1949 film The Third Man, which starred Orson Welles in his pre-corpulent yet explosively hammy days.

God, what a ham that guy was!

Welles doesn't even appear in the film until about the one-hour mark, which is a nice break from convention. When he finally shows up, it's an interesting reveal, and the look on his face is vintage Welles.

But holy crap, what a ham.

People knock William Shatner for overacting. No, no, no. You don't understand overacting until you've seen Welles do it. He's old school, a stage actor in an era when stage actors were still learning the nuances of acting for film. Orson Welles makes screen dialogue his bitch, and then he has a sandwich. I can forgive Welles for some of his hamitude. He is, after all, Unicron. I'm paraphrasing something I read in Entertainment Weekly when I say this:

Orson Welles' last film role was voicing a being who ate entire planets. Baby, that's hilarious.

He also reminds me a lot of my friend Michael -- also an actor. I'm talking about early day, worker's theatre guy, not the corpulent, wine-schilling, easy-to-confuse-with-Raymond-Burr Welles.

See for yourself. Orson Welles:

Raymond Burr:

All joshing aside, The Third Man was pretty solid, but not stocked with household names. If you can find the Criterion DVD, check it out. It's out of print, so tell me where you saw it and maybe I'll get a deal on it.

Rashomon

2007-01-14T03:04:00.000-05:00

In July 2006, a Japanese court ruled that all Japanese films produced before 1953, including Akira Kurosawa's Rashomon (1950), are part of the Public Domain.

Here is Rashomon, Kurosawa's adaptation of Ryunosuke Akutagawa's short story dealing with the subjectivity of eyewitness evidence in the solving of a crime. This is one of the first examples of storytelling from multiple characters' points of view, and has been imitated dozens of times since in far lesser works by mostly western directors.

This is the first and best, and is among Kurosawa's finest work.

The second link takes you to a Google video stream of what appears to be the Criterion Collection DVD. There's also the option to download for video iPod. I can't recommend this 84 minutes highly enough. Please watch. Kurosawa was the master.

Armed and Famous

2007-01-11T00:30:00.000-05:00

Well, "Armed and Famous" aired tonight, and because of other duties I had to tape-delay my exposure to the folks of Muncie and their five new police officers: Jack Osbourne, Erik Estrada, Trish Stratus, LaToya Jackson, and Jason "Wee Man" Acuna.

I approached this show with some trepidation. I make fun of Muncie all the time, but I resent when out-of-towners do it. As a native, I have license, but when out-of-towners and pretentious people cut on my hometown, I often ask, "So where do you call home?" Their answers are usually hilarious.

"Gary!"
"Terre Haute!"
"Connersville!"

Or some other podunk Indiana town that makes Muncie look like Vegas.

So I expected the producers to have their fun ridiculing Muncie and its residents, who are mostly hard-working people who take care of their families and respect other people. Sure, you can check out the Star Press opinion page and get your fill of local yokels and their ignorance, but really, what town doesn't have that? What town doesn't have crooked politicians? What college town doesn't have citizens who resent the college? What town doesn't have unemployment problems and retail saturation and poorly maintained streets and bad neighborhoods and drug dealers and poorly funded schools and so on? Muncie is just like any other town, with one big difference:

People love to pick on it more than any other town I know.

I figured the producers of "Armed and Famous" would drag Muncie through the mud, and the C-list celebrities would look down at it. I figured they'd rip Muncie with the old high-and-mighty approach.

Wrong.

The real comedy in "Armed and Famous" is not so much the criminals (who are no trashier or more ridiculous than ones you'd see on a rerun of "Cops"). The comedy comes from watching these actors try to take on a real job.

LaToya Jackson: "I've always wanted to work at McDonald's, and I've always wanted to be a police officer."

Tonight I saw Erik Estrada get shocked with a TASER. That's damn good television.

I saw Trish Stratus consoling a family whose house had burned down, telling them that as long as they were all alive, everything would be okay, and that everything is replaceable except their loved ones, who all walked away fine. She even hugged people.

Sure, that old, crack-dealing woman who kept calling Estrada "Ponch" -- that was pretty damn funny, but drug dealers are everywhere. Muncie doesn't have the market cornered on any of this.

And sure, most of this stuff is staged. This is far from "reality." This is sleekly produced Hollywood crap, and yet it's entertaining because they let the actors do the entertaining, and not the people of Muncie, who don't deserve any more ridicule than they already receive from elitist pricks who somehow think that Kokomo or Hammond or Greensburg or New Castle is better.

People from outside Indiana love to pick on Muncie and Indiana in general. We're a bunch of hayseeds. These are people from...Ohio...Illinois...Kentucky. Give me a break.

And for people who've come to Indiana for work...those people somehow think they have a license to ridicule as well, yet they never mention how if their town was so damn special, they wouldn't need to work here. I hate that shit.

The producers of "Armed and Famous" took my hometown and they did something I didn't expect -- something that people don't always do with Muncie and its people.

They treated us with respect. I'm hooked on that alone.

Reign Over Me

2007-01-09T00:59:00.000-05:00

Adam Sandler has returned to his quiet dramatic stuff, this time alongside Don Cheadle, who has serious acting chops if I've ever seen them.

The film is called Reign Over Me, named for "Love Reign O'er Me," the last song on The Who's Quadrophenia album -- maybe the most often overlooked song The Who ever recorded.

Click here to view the trailer.

Oh, and that's not The Who on the soundtrack. That's Pearl Jam. Oh hell yes.

Big Unit Gets Extension

2007-01-08T02:25:00.000-05:00

Randy Johnson, a.k.a. "The Big Unit," has agreed to a 2-year, $26 million contract extension with the Arizona Diamondbacks.

I really just wanted to note this because of the great headline opportunity. Thanks for indulging me.

The Reds: Yes, I'm Sure You Hate Them

2007-01-06T02:36:00.000-05:00

I was optimistic when the Reds hired Wayne Krivsky as the new general manager, and I was elated to see him trade Wily Mo Pena for pitching, which I've been screaming about for two or three years.

I gotta say, though, that I'm fed up. Too many bargain-basement free agents, too many second basemen, too many retread pitchers, too many unnecessary catchers, too many bad trades, too much tinkering. The guy definitely has shown why it took him 25 years to get a GM job.

And he's followed an auspicious season full of moves with an offseason full of...not much. He signed Alex Gonzales to play SS, then signed 40-year-old Jeff Conine for the bench, and somewhere in there he's signed a couple of relief pitchers. The bullpen now has THREE pitchers pushing 40 years old, and would have four if Kent Mercker's arm hadn't blown out.

From here, it looks like the opening day lineup would be:

RF Freel
2B Phillips
CF Griffey
LF Dunn
3B Encarnacion
C Ross
1B Hatteberg
SS Gonzales

Which, when you look at it, isn't that bad, and isn't that much of a change from the way they closed last season. We won't miss Royce Clayton, for sure.

But Reds fans wanted more action this winter. We didn't want Bob Castellini to throw money around like an idiot (read: like every other team this winter) but something would've gotten us excited for spring. Is anyone excited to go watch Alex Gonzales play? I'm not. Do we line up to watch Mike Stanton? Nope.

Krivsky's got to do something else. The above isn't bad, but it's just what we got last year: a third place team. Maybe lower.

Books

2006-11-29T16:33:00.000-05:00

Surveys that ask stupid questions like what's on my mousepad or what I ate for breakfast annoy the shit out of me. How self-involved do you have to be to ruminate on your Cocoa Pebbles? Jackassery, I tell you.

However, I think this survey is a good thing.

1. One book that changed your life?
High Fidelity - Finally put to words what I couldn't all those years. Then other people caught on, and now I feel like an open book at all times.

2. One book you have read more than once?
Screenwriting for Film and Television - William Miller - My grad advisor at OU, now retired. I practically memorized his book. It's not the best book on the market, but it was perfect for me at that stage of my writing.

3. One book you would want on a desert island?
David Copperfield - I'd have that kind of time, anyway.

4. One book that made you laugh?
Dave Barry Slept Here.

5. One book that made you cry?
Where The Red Fern Grows

6. One book you wish had been written?
Fargo Rock City. Klosterman is a hack. If I had the time and inclination, I could write circles around that guy. And if not for torque and leverage, I could kill the Incredible Hulk.

7. One book you wish had never had been written?
Anything by Ann Coulter, Bill O'Reilly, Sean Hannity, et al.

8. One book you are currently reading?
Jonathan Franzen - How to Be Alone

9. One book you have been meaning to read?
David Copperfield.

And you?

Orb Studies

2006-11-26T23:28:00.000-05:00

Rented the first disc of "The Adventures of Brisco County, Jr." this week and took my first (yes, first) look at Bruce Campbell as a gunslinging old west bounty hunter. I never paid attention to this show when it first aired, mainly because I was 17, and frankly I had better things to do, such as staying home every weekend, having no life whatsoever, and listening to Rush. Somewhere in there, I had an evening job in a grocery store, so that shot TV watching to hell.

This year, finally, Brisco hit DVD, and I gotta say — it's just okay. It doesn't blow me away. It's predictable, the writing is average at best, the special effects are just okay (and are not aging well), and Bruce Campbell is by far the only interesting person in the series (at least during Disc 1). I had high hopes when I saw R. Lee Ermey and M.C. Gainey in the pilot, but both were dead by the end of the series opener, leaving Campbell and Ed Chigliak's dad.

I'm torn. Should I rent the remaining discs?

Thanks.

2006-11-22T18:15:00.000-05:00

Fun Fact: More than 90 percent of visitors to this blog stay for less than 5 seconds.

After some thought, I decided that's pretty awesome.

Promotion and consumption can be beautiful. However, some of us — a marginalized few — want things to ourselves. It's the pop culture equivalent of being the first person on the block, but we go even further. We want to be the only person on the block. Leave the indie band or the great film alone so I can enjoy it in my own way, without sharing with a blue million vacuous, opinionated assholes, imitators, and soccer parents clawing out for their own dying relevance.

Some of us find things we like and don't want to share. Our interests lose luster when other people catch on.

Holly had James Blunt's Back To Bedlam in the CD player on the night of our first date. We sat in the car and listened to that CD a full three times through before going home separately. We attached memories to that album. How unfortunate, given how many soccer moms ended up with that album in the SUV's CD player.

You love a song, but then it ends up on the soundtrack to "Grey's Anatomy" or Garden State and you think, "Shit, that's not mine anymore." Sure enough, the next day the stores are flooded with people requesting something they never would've touched had Dr. McFuckstick not bedded a woman to the tune the night before.

Pop culture placement is product placement. During my last retail job (Borders, downtown Chicago), I used to marvel at how easily consumers can be manipulated, often just with a fleeting mention. One night during an episode of "The Sopranos," Tony mentioned Sun Tzu's The Art of War. The next day, every Borders store in Chicago sold out.

Customers used to line up for Oprah's latest book club selection. If we didn't have pallets of copies, there'd be hostile customers. In a four-story bookstore, they couldn't find anything to read unless Oprah told them what to buy.

Many Americans need to be told what to buy, what to read, what to ignore, what to pay attention to, what to know. So many minds have been co-opted.

A few of us don't want to be co-opted. We don't even want to give that impression. Some of us — a marginalized few — don't need to be told. We find things on our own. We don't wait for Zach Braff or Oprah Winfrey or Tony Soprano or Paste Magazine to tell us what is worth our time.

So, for those 10 percent who found this blog and took the time to scroll down and read something, thanks. Maybe this is a thing that is truly ours for a while, and maybe forever.

Partially Fake News: Fox shelves Michael Richards project

2006-11-21T01:06:00.000-05:00

Michael Richards' book and television show, "If I Hated Black People, Here's How I'd Do It," has been announced and immediately cancelled by Fox.

"Everyone knows I don't hate black people, but this book and television project would have illustrated how I would hate black people," Richards said.

Richards, who played Cosmo Kramer on the long-running television series, "Seinfeld," exploded onstage at the Laugh Factory in West Hollywood, belching forth a firestorm of racial epithets directed at hecklers of color.

Richards appeared on "Late Show with David Letterman" Monday night to apologize publicly for the incident.

Immediately after the broadcast, Richards announced his agreement with Fox for a project that would discuss a hypothetical scenario in which Richards truly does get angry at people of color and spout racial epithets in public, and possibly even from a stage, and actually mean the things he says.

Fox pulled the plug seconds later after instant public outcry.

This is the second project cancelled by Fox. "If I Did It," O.J. Simpson's project that discusses in purely hypothetical terms how O.J. Simpson hypothetically really did hypothetically kill those people in 1994, also got axed.

Whether Richards hypothetically would hate O.J. Simpson specifically is unknown.

Blogtacular.

2006-11-18T02:39:00.000-05:00

I'm plugged in at NUVO online.

I Want A Husband

2006-11-17T02:48:00.000-05:00

Judy Brady's "I Want A Wife" makes for some interesting discussion. Reading this antiquated piece of feminist literature some 35 years after it was written, it's obviously got some problems. Today, this piece appears to assume that all men think this way, which is a terrible generalization. Teaching this without historical perspective would be a mistake.

As the first few waves of feminism have changed the roles and perceptions of women in society, they've also changed the roles of men. What's interesting to me is how men have compensated. In many cases, not so well. Several films have tackled this theme, including American Beauty and Fight Club, showing how repressing that which is "traditionally masculine" has a way of manifesting itself elsewhere, almost predisposing poorly adjusted men to some sort of impending rebellion/regression.

There's also this nugget, which appears dubious after closer inspection and a brief visit here.

Alas, after scouring the web, I can't find a male response, which I find interesting. You'd think some asshole would've responded by now. I guess I'm that asshole.

NOTE: Keep in mind this is only a parody of Brady's slightly dated essay, and is based on similar generalizations mentioned in the same. This is meant for entertainment purposes only, and although inspired in part by actual people, it is in no way directed at anyone or meant to incite or offend. If we can't laugh at some of this stuff, then we're probably taking ourselves too seriously. Besides, if I wanted to fight with you, I wouldn't do it over Blogger. That's stupid.

**READ THE NOTE ABOVE BEFORE PROCEEDING, DAMMIT**

I Want A Husband/Man

I want a husband who will kill every insect/arachnid within two miles of our home.

I want a husband who can read my mind so that I don't have to articulate my feelings, and accept my need to falsely accuse all males of not articulating their feelings.

Basically, I want a husband who can articulate his feelings, but doesn't out of respect for my complete inability/refusal to deal with that.

I want a husband who is okay with my view that, as a man, he is accountable for all the misdeeds of every man ever, and any disagreement or objection on his part is viewed not as an intellectual challenge for healthy debate, but as outright sexism.

I want a husband who will tolerate me complaining about how disgusting men are in the bathroom, even though I can drop trow that will send maggots scurrying for air.

I want a husband who does not fart, ever, and accepts me for the gaseous anomaly I am, especially when he is spooning me.

I want a husband who won't leave shaving stubble on the sink, but won't mention the long, stringy hairs I leave everywhere, including in our dinner.

I want a husband who does not collect useless junk, but ignores that I have every feminine hygiene product, pair of shoes, and piece of trinket jewelry I can stuff into my home.

I want a husband who can provide multiple orgasms for me even though he is only biologically designed for one at a time. Also, I still want the freedom to bitch about dissatisfaction in the bedroom.

I want a husband who allows me to trump any argument about social status by mentioning the pain of childbirth, as if it's his fault that his idea of agony is only getting kicked in the balls.

I want a husband who will watch every Julia Roberts movie ever made, and then allow me to go to bed early when he wants to watch Die Hard.

I want a husband who will accept that I know all the lines in Grease, but who will allow me to ridicule him for knowing all the lines in Star Wars.

I want a husband whose interests are my interests, whose things are my things, and who doesn't mind when I always want a bite/drink of whatever he's eating/drinking rather than getting my own portion.

I want a husband that I can treat like a Ken doll, dressing him in clothes that I like with no regard for his taste or comfort; I also want to paint his fingernails as a joke.

I want a husband who never mentions anything in reference to my weight, but is okay with me putting him on a diet.

I want a husband who doesn't fawn over buxom women in popular culture, or point out that my walls are covered with pictures of Brad Pitt.

I want a husband who is unaffected by the pressures society puts on males, and accepts that pictures of magazine models can reduce me to an insecure mess.

I want a husband who will treat me like the strong, independent woman I am, until I feel the need to break down and cry for no reason whatsoever.

I want a husband who will cry, because a sensitive man is sexy; however, him crying more than once per year makes him a sissy.

I want a husband who is exactly like my father, but if he is looking for a woman just like his mother, that's just weird. [EDIT: Seriously, that's pretty weird.]

I want a husband who will not buy expensive electronic gadgets, unless they are for me.

I want a husband who will buy expensive household items such as vacuums or kitchen utensils when I ask for them, and not argue when I call him sexist for expecting me to use them.

I want a husband who will not buy anything for himself, because any man who purchases anything for himself with his own hard-earned money is obviously selfish.

I want a husband who is perfectly secure in the notion of having children, and if he is not, he never mentions his insecurities, because they would burden me.

I want a husband who shows no emotion whatsoever and remains stable at all times, because any deviation from level-headedness is unacceptable.

I want a husband who will surprise me for no reason with gifts, flowers, and thoughtfulness, even though the last time I got him anything was 1972.

My God, who wouldn't want a husband?

"He was a Marine..."

2006-11-10T02:00:00.000-05:00

Jason Isbell of Drive-By Truckers performs "Dress Blues."

Keep some tissues handy.

Moby: So Six Years Ago.

2006-11-10T00:31:00.000-05:00

So what if Moby's last album, Hotel, was greeted with collective shrugs, groans, and whines from literati and philistines alike? We wondered: Had our favorite bald, vegan, enigmatic technodude "lost his touch," or had we perhaps expected too much, given how important Play was before he licensed all of the songs for commercial use and burned images of diamond retailers and fancy vehicles into our interpretations of "Porcelain," "Bodyrock," and others?

Moby's downward slope: Play was groundbreaking. 18 was a capable followup. Hotel just blew.

Before Play, Moby's music appeared on the soundtrack to Michael Mann's film Heat. "God Moving Over the Face of the Waters," while frighteningly pretentious on its own, works perfectly in tandem with the film's resolution. Resolved: Moby was unafraid to provide backing music for Hollywood. We should've known he'd pull what he pulled. Commercials gotsta have hip music, too.

I still stand by 18 as an achievement. Look no further than this video. That's Kato Kaelin. Corey Feldman is in there too. The video is a brilliant statement about the surreal nature of Hollywood. Angelyne? There's no greater example. Further, I contend that Moby is aware of the tenuous state of his own relevance, and the parade of "has beens" in the video seem to underscore the idea. Fame is fleeting. Play might've been Moby's peak. "We Are All Made of Stars" comments on the downward slope we all must face, famous or not. We are all stardust. We are all fading.

Then, of course, Hotel sucked. "Raining Again," "Beautiful," "Lift Me Up," and "Temptation" are only moderately listenable. Only "Raining Again" stands up to repeated listens. Hotel was no Play, or even 18. Hotel was Moby's stamped ticket to Irrelevantville.

Lest we forget, Moby already has a "best of" collection available, but it's limited in scope. So the release of Go: The Very Best of Moby is curious. There's just no reason for this, unless there's added value. (Spoiler: There's added value.)

This new Moby compilation features a second disc of intense remixes of some of his best tracks. Sure, some of it is typical techno; the disc probably should come with a free pair of glowsticks and a hit of Ecstacy. However, the reinvented "Jam For The Ladies", "Natural Blues," and "Why Does My Heart Feel So Bad?" are must-hear versions.

Moby was (and still is) a crucial figure in the rise and relevance of techno. That other DJs have remixed him is a fitting tribute, and the bonus disc alone is quite an incentive. Still, I'm left wondering: What's next for Moby?

Hugh Jass, Harry Taynt, Enormous Balls still searching for work.

2006-11-07T20:16:00.000-05:00

Today the Cincinnati Reds named Dick Pole as the team's pitching coach.

Just when I thought Rusty Skoog was getting all the glory.

"British for harmonica. American for inspiration."

2006-11-07T01:07:00.000-05:00

So says the packaging (well, the little sticker at least) for Gob Iron's Death Songs For The Living, Jay Farrar and Anders Parker's side project of classic American folk standards and a few originals. Farrar, formerly of Uncle Tupelo and currently of Son Volt, and Parker, formerly of Varnaline, have cranked out a 19-track musical look at the big dirt nap. Among the chestnuts, listeners will find new interpretations of Stephen Foster's "Hard Times" and Rev. JM Gates' "Death's Black Train." This is a dark collection, to be sure, but something here resonates — the sparse instrumentation and melancholy vocals seem to echo simpler times. Also, there's twang and slide guitar in full effect. Farrar's "Buzz & Grind" makes this listener quite happy.

To keep things legal, here's Gob Iron on iTunes. Simply put, I'd rather not maintain this blog from prison, or while wearing a barrel, or both, because the RIAA is the devil. So you get iTunes links. Apologies to PC users who still haven't figured out that iTunes is superior to WinAmp.

For those not iTunes inclined, here's Gob Iron on Amazon.

Gob Iron reminds me a bit of DBT, but with Farrar at the helm, everything sounds a bit like Uncle Tupelo and a lot like Son Volt. Not that there's anything wrong with that. Farrar's music is slow and tonal, almost ethereal in parts, and his shows are often lethargic (albeit passionate). People can compare Jeff Tweedy's Wilco to Farrar's latter day endeavors, but for my money Jeff Tweedy doesn't strike the same visceral feeling as Farrar — just one blogger's view.

I met Anders Parker at Radio Radio over in the Fountain Square section of Indianapolis. We talked about the guest musicians on his albums, which include Richard Buckner and Farrar, among other notables. He's a nice guy. He has a fine beard. He kind of looks like Sam Beam from Iron & Wine.

This is not a music blog. However, sometimes it might feel that way.

The Chief Export of Chuck Norris is Jesus.

2006-11-01T11:17:00.000-05:00

Chuck Norris unironically addresses Chuck Norris irony, resulting in more irony fodder, then proselytizes

Chuck Norris, who earned millions of dollars making violent, profanity-laden films such as Delta Force, Invasion, U.S.A., and Missing in Action II: The Beginning (Note: Yes, the sequel was "The Beginning.") and the long-running "Walker, Texas Ranger" television series, is back with fists blazing for conservativism, family values, and what's right for your children. Let's all listen to the nearly 70-year-old former action star tell us what's right for American families.

Witness Chuck Norris (or someone posing as him) as a conservative columnist for "leading independent news service" WorldNetDaily.com.

Witness WorldNetDaily's reasoning.

Chuck Norris owes his career to the Republican zeitgeist. His three Missing in Action films and two Delta Force films opened during the Reagan-Bush years of 1980-1992, when Hollywood capitalized on Cold War paranoia and Vietnam regrets with one-man-army action vehicles such as the above, or Rambo, or hell, even "The A-Team."

With the election of Bill Clinton, the political climate of the country shifted, and violent, dumbed-down one-man-army films went away (sort of — Van Damme lives on). Norris took his one-man-army approach to television and began work on "Walker: Texas Ranger," dispensing justice in a poorly written and laughable program designed to excite viewers with base instincts for displays of violence.

Now, Norris is a conservative columnist for a Web site with the following mission statement:

"WorldNetDaily.com is an independent newssite [sic] created to capitalize on new media technology, to reinvigorate and revitalize the role of the free press as a guardian of liberty, an exponent of truth and justice, an uncompromising disseminator of news. [sic]

"WorldNetDaily.com performs this function by remaining faithful to the central role of a free press in a free society: as a watchdog exposing government waste, fraud, corruption and abuse of power - the mission envisioned by our founders and protected in the First Amendment of the Constitution."

Among the other voices on the fiercely independent news site: Ann Coulter, Jerry Falwell, Pat Buchanan, Michelle Malkin, Judge Roy Moore, and in the archives, Bill O'Reilly.

In Norris' first column, he not only denounces evolution, but denounces several alleged "Chuck Norris Facts" using the rhetoric of the Christian right, and even makes a bizarre allusion to Christ that comes off sounding as if he believes Superman really existed.

To folks who saw his clueless cameo in the mediocre film, Dodgeball, this stuff should come as no surprise. The man is so far removed from reality, he'd need to dial 011, plus the country code.

For teenagers and college students, the people chiefly responsible for the "Chuck Norris Facts," this might not be funny at all.

Then again, maybe Norris just made the bonfire of irony even bigger.

Identity and The Southern Thing

2006-10-31T23:55:00.000-05:00

[This was originally published in the now-defunct Kritik Magazine in 2006.]

Why you can't run away from your redneck past.

I tried to explain Drive-By Truckers to my brother. He’s 27, a union electrician, blue collar, 3 kids, listens to Godsmack, drinks Natty Light kind of guy. We basically just have our blood in common. But he likes southern rock, so I figured he’d like DBT. So I said, “They sing about the South. They sing about working-class people, tornadoes, poverty, factories shutting down. That kind of thing.”

“Oh, stuff you know all about,” he said. His sarcasm was impossible to miss; he laughs at his own sarcasm. When he laughed, fuck, it stung. That was days ago. I can’t get it out of my head.

But he’s right. Generations of my family have been blue collar, but not me. I don’t know anything about working in a factory; I just know the few stories my grandfather, dad and brother have told me about working through Indiana summers inside factories with no air conditioning, or underground in a dank mine, a hair from death. When my grandfather died in 2003, a small amount of money arrived as compensation for his black lung.

I know the story of how a hot steel beam nearly burned a hole through my brother’s hand just as his foreman walked by. The foreman said, “Yeah, that’ll happen,” and kept walking. I watched as my dad was laid off time after time until the factory finally closed. I know that my brother is unemployed — has been for months — but he still has to pay union dues. If he takes non-union work, the union will find out. “They always find out,” he says. “And then you’re fucked.” If that happens, he says, he’ll never work again. Fear of reprisal keeps him from finding work by other means, because his union — the organization that is supposed to ensure his quality of life — is better at catching him doing non-union labor than helping him find union work. My nieces and nephew are able to eat because welfare exists.

I’ve seen this life; I grew up in a working class home. But I haven’t been the one in the factory or the coalmine. I’m the one member of the family who went to college.

We’re given this line that you go to college to “better” yourself. In doing so, students from working class backgrounds — especially those who are the first-generation college students — encounter the bias of academic life: blue collar values are treated with a kind of patronizing “acceptance” inherent among touchy-feely, perpetually clueless academic shut-ins. Universities spend so much time on racial unity with no regard for the fissure between classes: working class students and those from more privileged backgrounds have much to learn from each other, but no one bridges the divide.

In my family, I’m the black sheep — not just because of college, but in all of my interests, from music to film to books to career aspirations. Trouble is, these things don’t equal an identity, and even a black sheep needs an identity. You can’t surround yourself with superficial items — a cd collection, guitars, comics, etc. — and you can’t fill your life with people who, no matter what, are not blood. I surrounded myself with friends who had similar interests, but that’s not enough. Family is family, no matter how much it hurts. You have to go home sometime.

Where you come from is often as much of what you are as your own reflection in the rearview mirror. Trying to drive away from that is futile. You will always be from your hometown. You will always be part of your family. You will always be what you are.

The music of the Drive-By Truckers is important. While I grew up in a working class environment, I can’t claim that I’ve “lived it,” but something about these songs speaks to me, makes me feel closer to understanding my background, reinforces the values of my upbringing, and lets me take those values through my own life, however different I am, and helps me find out about myself.

Inherent in working class ideals is a connection, at least for me, to the south. I am not from the south. I don’t know what it’s really like. I have stories and secondhand experiences and blood relatives buried in clay, but I am and will always be from Indiana — and Indiana isn’t the south. I don’t care how close you live to the Ohio River or how much you’ve embraced being a “redneck.” If you were born north of the Mason-Dixon Line, you’re a Yankee. Get used to it.

I don’t really understand the southern thing. I’ve never seen a tornado, except on television. I don’t even know what they sound like. Oh, sure, they all sound like trains, but I’ve never heard one go by, and Indiana gets them every year. I’ve also never tasted sweet tea. If it tastes anything like regular tea, I’ll hate it. A Coke is a Coke. Mountain Dew is Mountain Dew. I’ve never seen kudzu. I didn’t even know what kudzu was until a couple of years ago. These things don’t comprise a “southern identity,” but the association is powerful.

When I see old family pictures taken in the south, or when I drive through the south, I’m looking at home. I feel at peace. I’m a Yankee but when I go south of the Mason-Dixon, I pick up a tinge of an accent. Somehow it’s real, not some imitation by some Yankee wanna-be trying to “relate.” I don’t have to relate. I’m relation.

There’s something inherently southern in me. Is the southern thing hereditary? Mom is from Tennessee. Dad is from southern Kentucky. I’ve got family all over the south. I’ve got the south in my blood. At times, when I hear DBT, it’s visceral. I hurt. I can identify with them when they talk about their parents and southern traditions and hospitality and George Wallace and racism and football and God. I ache and I smile and I feel right at home because that’s the closest thing to life: simultaneous happiness and pain sitting in a rocking chair, maybe with a cheap beer.

I’m not a southerner and I don’t totally understand the southern thing. I’m not working class, but I owe my values to a working class upbringing. So I don’t have to “know all about” this stuff. I can see it and feel it. As I integrate my working class upbringing with an academic life, I hurt and I rejoice. This is who I am.

King's Eye Land: Reboot

2006-10-31T23:29:00.000-05:00

Sometimes you just blow everything up and start over.

After 18 months at INtake Weekly, I've decided to move on to other interests. Losing the freelance money stinks, but gaining the peace of mind is better.

Cleaning house here made sense. I'd housed about three years of columns here, dating back to The Ball State Daily News, along with some other rambling that really wasn't necessary.

I'm tired of writing 400-word personal pieces about what I ate for breakfast. I just don't have the time. I'd rather write about things of greater significance, and let my freak flag fly for a while. It's nicer.

With any luck, this blog will feature improved content as a result.

The first real entry is a personal essay about Drive-By Truckers.