In a way, VH1 Classic is worse because you can't DVR crack to smoke it later.
With all my recent pop culture shenanagans I've come to a realization that as much as I know about movies and TV, it pales beneath the absolute white hot geekery of my knowledge about music. Like anyone suffering a terminal desease, I've taken it upon mysef to learn much about what's taken any semblance of a real life from me.
The original recipe of VH1 was bad enough, with it's Pop Up Videos, Behind the Musics and it's "I love the..." series. VH1 Classic is basically all trivial killer and little trivial filler. It's got all that kinda stuff plus the shit I used to stay up late to watch on "Nite Flight", it's a rock geeks dream.
The thing that's been kinning me lately is "the Alternative", showing the videos that I used to tape off of "120 Minutes" back in the day. A lot of people that I've come across in my adult life (especially those who grew up with free form WHFS) find it easy to dismiss anything MTV related, but in rural Delaware it was the only way to hear anything other than Bon Jovi or Janet Jackson.
The absolute biggest recent televised coup was ..Urgh! A Music War... I..ve been wanting to see it forever and hadn..t been able to find it. Unfortunately, they had cut out The Cramps but there was plenty of gold to be found like The Police meer moments before they started sucking and a pre fame Go-Gos having their shit together but my favorite was Devo doing "Uncontrollable Urge":
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Klaus Nomi also makes an appearance. If you've never heard of him he's a German who sang new wave versions of operatic arias, he was the visual embodiment of the 80's esthetic; like the earliest synthesizers and drum machines at the time they seemed futuristic, but now seem cutely quaint.:
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Tuesday, December 12, 2006
Monday, December 11, 2006
Holiday
When I was 22, I worked at a Pawn shop. Not blessed with the relative abundance of self awareness that I have now, I didn't realize I was too sensitive for that kind of work. People at their most desperate, readily exchanging their valuables for pennies on the dollar and a paper pawn ticket to forever remember their trip to rock bottom.
When Christmas time rolled around my boss asked me to be Santa and wave at passing cars, and I immediately said yes. Other than a similar twinkle of the eye, I had no physical resemblance to St. Nick, but a mid priced santa suit and some carefully placed pillows were going to take me the rest of the way.
After a couple weeks of brain melting boredom in front of the store, my boss had a favor to ask of me; a woman he knew needed a Santa for her daughter's Brownie troops holiday party. I agreed pretty quickly, but I should have thought about it a little. I had only had direct interaction with one child, a two and a half year old girl that had convinced her father to pull over to visit me. I had had enough of my own visits with Kris Kringle to be able to wing my own decent Santa cliche setlist. I started off with an earnest "Ho Ho Ho" followed by the standard "have you been a good girl?" right into" ..what would you like for Christmas?" capping off with a "well, so long Merry Christmas" with a surprise reprise of "Ho Ho HO!" If her expression was any indication, my performance was top notch. She radiated nothing but glowing adoration the whole time she was in my presence. So I thought I was golden. My boss's friend (I'll call her Debbie, though I have forgotten her real name) gave me a couple of items of advice. "The younger girls will think anyone in a Santa suit is the real deal, but the older ones will be more cynical..". In the occasionally unreliable note taking section of my mind, I should have highlighted that older girl=cynical bit, I say foreshadowingly.
The evening of the party started less than promising. I was running late anyway, but the rural road maze had added a few more minutes to my arrival time. The brownie lodge was at the end of a long, dirt driveway that led to a car choked parking lot. Thankfully, I had enough foresight to dress in the entire outfit, except the above neck accouterments. I bolted out of my car adjusting my beard when I saw Debbie frantically searching for me in front of the main entrance. She greeted me with obvious relief and told me everyone is SO EXCITED that 'm here. And as soon as I was ready I was pushed though the front door into the bright lights of the lodge. The 3 dozen or so young girls shuffling around the room simultaneously stopped and turned their heads towards me upon my entrance and began running, as a group, towards me, all excited looks and fulfilled anticipation.
And I felt like a total and complete fraud. To them I was the greatest man that wasn't their daddy, but I knew I was just a 22-year-old man playing said Saint Nicholas. No amount of fake white beards was going to change that. I felt just like a man holding a lit match while a wave of gasoline quickly approached. I knew once the kids got close enough to feel that I had pillows instead of paunch and that my beard wasn't attached to my face, but to a cheap elastic band, it would all be over. Their hugs would turn to tiny fists of fury, punching too fast and from too many directions to defend myself. I braced for impact, but they stopped. Their Santa reverence stopped them at a safe distance, like an invisible fence. Debbie let me to the stool where I was going to give presents to the kids. What, I'm giving them presents? I don't remember exactly what I thought would happen when I did this. Maybe just another stellar version of my Santa set that killed em in front of the pawnshop. I certainly didn't mentally prepare for this!
Such direct contact gave a taste of what a crappy mall santa I would have been. At least I didn't have children sitting on my trembling lap telling me their deepest X-Mas wish while in the background, one or both of their parents give me an expression that says, "Don't get the kid's hopes up, OK?!"
They got into a long, orderly line to get a sit-down with St. Nick, the toy pimp himself.
It was like the beginning of The Godfather. Debbie played Robert Duval to my Marlon Brando, feeding names into my ears and presents into my grip. I greeted them with a "Have you been a good girl?" and sending them off with a "Ho, Ho, Ho!" at an increasing efficient pace. The faithful mixed with the doubtful in a way that never made me comfortable with either. But let me tell you the young ones were believers! They were bursting with excitement, occasionally greeting me with tiny sweet hugs that were much too quick to give me away. But cynical was a massive understatement in describing the older girls. They might believe in Santa Claus, but they knew I wasn't him. They'd shoot me a look that they would later perfect on boyfriends, auto mechanics or anyone else stupid enough to try to fool them. The look that says, "I. Don't. Think. So." After they took their presents they'd say things like, "Thanks, Santa" coated with a sticky coat of sarcasm. The only thing missing was that they didn't do the air quote gesture when they said "Santa". I was just hoping they would keep my secret at least until I left.
After I waved my last goodbyes, I ran into my car, whipped off my wig and beard and inhaled like I had been trapped underwater. And in a way I was, stuck under my own deceit and I just wanted to breath freely. I didn't have much time to relax though, as a 4 year old came out the front door with her parents to go home. I froze, what was I going to do? I didn't want her to see Santa without a beard and hat, but if I put that stuff back on even a 4 year old knows that trading a team of flying reindeer for a beat up '82 Mustang is a crappy deal. So I ducked under my dash and waited for their headlights to pass. I knew I had to get the hell out of there. All the youngsters would be going home soon, my tardiness had made Santa the headliner and the show was over. I threw my car into reverse and headed out of the driveway pointed in the opposite direction. I noticed a fork off to the right that I hadn..t noticed during my first trip. I backed up a short way down it to point me in the right direction and I was free!
But I wasn't quite done with the Father Christmas. My boss thought it would be a good attention getter to have a Santa in front of the store in February, so there I was, about to learn that the average person has no sense of irony. I stood in front of the store dodging nuggets of the obvious shouted from passing cars. "Christmas is over!" Yes, thank you, I do have a calendar. One guy stretched himself out of back seat window of a car to give me some criticism. "Santa, you son of a bitch, ya didn't get me what I wanted for Christmas!" he screamed. I answered,"Well then you should have been a good boy, asshole!", HO, HO, HO! Ya Bastard!
After that day I gave the outfit back, and haven't worn a Santa suit since. Debbie wrote me a very sweet note a short time after the party thanking me. At the end of it she wrote, "You are the REAL Santa!" Would she have still felt this way if I had told her that I had originally thought I was going to get paid for making the appearance? No, Probably not.
But writing this story did make me think about the power of Santa. By this time, both the loyal and the cynical little girls are now young women, way too smart to believe in Santa. But hopefully they'll enjoy their children's acceptance, while they still have an imagination big enough to believe a wonderful man can visit every house on earth in one night and that he can look something like me.
When Christmas time rolled around my boss asked me to be Santa and wave at passing cars, and I immediately said yes. Other than a similar twinkle of the eye, I had no physical resemblance to St. Nick, but a mid priced santa suit and some carefully placed pillows were going to take me the rest of the way.
After a couple weeks of brain melting boredom in front of the store, my boss had a favor to ask of me; a woman he knew needed a Santa for her daughter's Brownie troops holiday party. I agreed pretty quickly, but I should have thought about it a little. I had only had direct interaction with one child, a two and a half year old girl that had convinced her father to pull over to visit me. I had had enough of my own visits with Kris Kringle to be able to wing my own decent Santa cliche setlist. I started off with an earnest "Ho Ho Ho" followed by the standard "have you been a good girl?" right into" ..what would you like for Christmas?" capping off with a "well, so long Merry Christmas" with a surprise reprise of "Ho Ho HO!" If her expression was any indication, my performance was top notch. She radiated nothing but glowing adoration the whole time she was in my presence. So I thought I was golden. My boss's friend (I'll call her Debbie, though I have forgotten her real name) gave me a couple of items of advice. "The younger girls will think anyone in a Santa suit is the real deal, but the older ones will be more cynical..". In the occasionally unreliable note taking section of my mind, I should have highlighted that older girl=cynical bit, I say foreshadowingly.
The evening of the party started less than promising. I was running late anyway, but the rural road maze had added a few more minutes to my arrival time. The brownie lodge was at the end of a long, dirt driveway that led to a car choked parking lot. Thankfully, I had enough foresight to dress in the entire outfit, except the above neck accouterments. I bolted out of my car adjusting my beard when I saw Debbie frantically searching for me in front of the main entrance. She greeted me with obvious relief and told me everyone is SO EXCITED that 'm here. And as soon as I was ready I was pushed though the front door into the bright lights of the lodge. The 3 dozen or so young girls shuffling around the room simultaneously stopped and turned their heads towards me upon my entrance and began running, as a group, towards me, all excited looks and fulfilled anticipation.
And I felt like a total and complete fraud. To them I was the greatest man that wasn't their daddy, but I knew I was just a 22-year-old man playing said Saint Nicholas. No amount of fake white beards was going to change that. I felt just like a man holding a lit match while a wave of gasoline quickly approached. I knew once the kids got close enough to feel that I had pillows instead of paunch and that my beard wasn't attached to my face, but to a cheap elastic band, it would all be over. Their hugs would turn to tiny fists of fury, punching too fast and from too many directions to defend myself. I braced for impact, but they stopped. Their Santa reverence stopped them at a safe distance, like an invisible fence. Debbie let me to the stool where I was going to give presents to the kids. What, I'm giving them presents? I don't remember exactly what I thought would happen when I did this. Maybe just another stellar version of my Santa set that killed em in front of the pawnshop. I certainly didn't mentally prepare for this!
Such direct contact gave a taste of what a crappy mall santa I would have been. At least I didn't have children sitting on my trembling lap telling me their deepest X-Mas wish while in the background, one or both of their parents give me an expression that says, "Don't get the kid's hopes up, OK?!"
They got into a long, orderly line to get a sit-down with St. Nick, the toy pimp himself.
It was like the beginning of The Godfather. Debbie played Robert Duval to my Marlon Brando, feeding names into my ears and presents into my grip. I greeted them with a "Have you been a good girl?" and sending them off with a "Ho, Ho, Ho!" at an increasing efficient pace. The faithful mixed with the doubtful in a way that never made me comfortable with either. But let me tell you the young ones were believers! They were bursting with excitement, occasionally greeting me with tiny sweet hugs that were much too quick to give me away. But cynical was a massive understatement in describing the older girls. They might believe in Santa Claus, but they knew I wasn't him. They'd shoot me a look that they would later perfect on boyfriends, auto mechanics or anyone else stupid enough to try to fool them. The look that says, "I. Don't. Think. So." After they took their presents they'd say things like, "Thanks, Santa" coated with a sticky coat of sarcasm. The only thing missing was that they didn't do the air quote gesture when they said "Santa". I was just hoping they would keep my secret at least until I left.
After I waved my last goodbyes, I ran into my car, whipped off my wig and beard and inhaled like I had been trapped underwater. And in a way I was, stuck under my own deceit and I just wanted to breath freely. I didn't have much time to relax though, as a 4 year old came out the front door with her parents to go home. I froze, what was I going to do? I didn't want her to see Santa without a beard and hat, but if I put that stuff back on even a 4 year old knows that trading a team of flying reindeer for a beat up '82 Mustang is a crappy deal. So I ducked under my dash and waited for their headlights to pass. I knew I had to get the hell out of there. All the youngsters would be going home soon, my tardiness had made Santa the headliner and the show was over. I threw my car into reverse and headed out of the driveway pointed in the opposite direction. I noticed a fork off to the right that I hadn..t noticed during my first trip. I backed up a short way down it to point me in the right direction and I was free!
But I wasn't quite done with the Father Christmas. My boss thought it would be a good attention getter to have a Santa in front of the store in February, so there I was, about to learn that the average person has no sense of irony. I stood in front of the store dodging nuggets of the obvious shouted from passing cars. "Christmas is over!" Yes, thank you, I do have a calendar. One guy stretched himself out of back seat window of a car to give me some criticism. "Santa, you son of a bitch, ya didn't get me what I wanted for Christmas!" he screamed. I answered,"Well then you should have been a good boy, asshole!", HO, HO, HO! Ya Bastard!
After that day I gave the outfit back, and haven't worn a Santa suit since. Debbie wrote me a very sweet note a short time after the party thanking me. At the end of it she wrote, "You are the REAL Santa!" Would she have still felt this way if I had told her that I had originally thought I was going to get paid for making the appearance? No, Probably not.
But writing this story did make me think about the power of Santa. By this time, both the loyal and the cynical little girls are now young women, way too smart to believe in Santa. But hopefully they'll enjoy their children's acceptance, while they still have an imagination big enough to believe a wonderful man can visit every house on earth in one night and that he can look something like me.
Monday, December 04, 2006
Song that make me cry.
Be it the beauty or sadness of the melodies or the memories I attach to them, these tunes almost never fail to turn me into a sobbing, colossal (but unapologetic) wuss.
When compiling this list, I didn't expect it to be so long and some of them might betray my true lack of cred, but as I often say, "There's no future in fronting."
"Walk Away Renee" by The Left Banke
Whenever this song comes up on my Ipod, I sing and weep almost involuntarily no matter where I am. I must look like I'm insane to the people I pass by, but I couldn't care less.
"Evil Will Prevail" by The Flaming Lips.
Lately, the evidence is overwhelming that this is true.
"Mass Pike" by The Get Up Kids.
This is the rare song that makes me think of two different relationships.
"God Only Knows" by The Beach Boys.
I've known a lot of people that would agree that this song has otherworldly tear-inducing properties.
"Dragon lady" by the Geraldine Fibbers
This song is like the prom scene in Carrie, with Carrie with scraped knees and torn dress instead of pig's blood; killing everyone with her actual anger and hate instead of a telekinetic manifestation of it.
"I Am A Scientist" by Guided By Voices.
The song itself doesn't do it, the lyric "I am a lost soul/I shoot myself with rock and roll/ the hole I dig is bottomless/ but nothing else can set me free" does.
"Helena" by My Chemical Romance
If I was too self conscious to include MCR in this list, I would have been too self conscious to make it to begin with.
"Birds" by Neil Young.
It's just a beautiful song.
"The Beautiful Ones" by Prince.
This doesn't have as much effect as it used to, when the musical question, "Do you want him/or do you want me/ cause I want you" was answered "him" a lot.
"Love Can Destroy" by The Ravonettes.
Destroy, disintegrate, obliterate, whatever.
"Couldn..t You Wait" by Silkworm.
I don't have any idea why this opens up the ole eye faucet, but baby, they're open.
"One More Hour" by Sleater Kinney.
This brings me back to a specific morning when I realized that no matter how safe or loved somebody feels in your arms, sometimes that's not enough.
"Chicago" by Sufjan Stevens.
I've only listened to this song once all the way through, it's weepy power is so strong.
"Maps" by Yeah Yeah Yeahs.
I don't think any explanation is needed, unless you haven't heard this song.
When compiling this list, I didn't expect it to be so long and some of them might betray my true lack of cred, but as I often say, "There's no future in fronting."
"Walk Away Renee" by The Left Banke
Whenever this song comes up on my Ipod, I sing and weep almost involuntarily no matter where I am. I must look like I'm insane to the people I pass by, but I couldn't care less.
"Evil Will Prevail" by The Flaming Lips.
Lately, the evidence is overwhelming that this is true.
"Mass Pike" by The Get Up Kids.
This is the rare song that makes me think of two different relationships.
"God Only Knows" by The Beach Boys.
I've known a lot of people that would agree that this song has otherworldly tear-inducing properties.
"Dragon lady" by the Geraldine Fibbers
This song is like the prom scene in Carrie, with Carrie with scraped knees and torn dress instead of pig's blood; killing everyone with her actual anger and hate instead of a telekinetic manifestation of it.
"I Am A Scientist" by Guided By Voices.
The song itself doesn't do it, the lyric "I am a lost soul/I shoot myself with rock and roll/ the hole I dig is bottomless/ but nothing else can set me free" does.
"Helena" by My Chemical Romance
If I was too self conscious to include MCR in this list, I would have been too self conscious to make it to begin with.
"Birds" by Neil Young.
It's just a beautiful song.
"The Beautiful Ones" by Prince.
This doesn't have as much effect as it used to, when the musical question, "Do you want him/or do you want me/ cause I want you" was answered "him" a lot.
"Love Can Destroy" by The Ravonettes.
Destroy, disintegrate, obliterate, whatever.
"Couldn..t You Wait" by Silkworm.
I don't have any idea why this opens up the ole eye faucet, but baby, they're open.
"One More Hour" by Sleater Kinney.
This brings me back to a specific morning when I realized that no matter how safe or loved somebody feels in your arms, sometimes that's not enough.
"Chicago" by Sufjan Stevens.
I've only listened to this song once all the way through, it's weepy power is so strong.
"Maps" by Yeah Yeah Yeahs.
I don't think any explanation is needed, unless you haven't heard this song.
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Cursing at the Toy Store
I'm a vulgarian by nature; I love the cathartic nature of using naughty words, but I work at a toy store.
Rest assured, when the final door is locked and the last child is beyond earshot, my co-workers and my language becomes saltier than the bottom of a bag of pretzels. But when we're open...
My boss says, "Sugar!" in vain, store open or closed, but in the holiday stress and opening a new store lets the occasional "Shit!" out. I'm very proud of him.
My safe curse is, "Shiz!", which magically turns to "Flaming bags of shiz!" of "Shiz-wah!" for no explainable reason.
My favorite, however, is my comrade Lizzy's with her "Fudge!" which expands to "Fudge McGirk!" when a little extra color is needed. But in times of extreme stress it becomes,"Fudge McGirk making his final Broadway appearance!"
Religion is the last refuge of a scoundrel, so please Lord make this my last Christmas working in retail. I actually want to enjoy it next time. Amen.
Rest assured, when the final door is locked and the last child is beyond earshot, my co-workers and my language becomes saltier than the bottom of a bag of pretzels. But when we're open...
My boss says, "Sugar!" in vain, store open or closed, but in the holiday stress and opening a new store lets the occasional "Shit!" out. I'm very proud of him.
My safe curse is, "Shiz!", which magically turns to "Flaming bags of shiz!" of "Shiz-wah!" for no explainable reason.
My favorite, however, is my comrade Lizzy's with her "Fudge!" which expands to "Fudge McGirk!" when a little extra color is needed. But in times of extreme stress it becomes,"Fudge McGirk making his final Broadway appearance!"
Religion is the last refuge of a scoundrel, so please Lord make this my last Christmas working in retail. I actually want to enjoy it next time. Amen.
Monday, November 27, 2006
Black Friday, Schmack Friday
Black Friday is, from my retail experience, a highly overrated, media stoked event. I'm referring to the Friday after Thanksgiving, the acknowledged beginning of the holiday shopping season, when peoples reaction to any trapping or suggestion of the upcoming holidays changes from, "What! It's not even Thanksgiving yet!" to "Yeah, I guess it's getting to be about that time".
Big box stores create their stupid Black Friday sales, marking a limited supply of coveted Items lower than the store's actual cost (it's called a loss leader)so that people clog up the highways with the other thrifty shoppers and line up the night before for the privilege of pushing through the doors when the store opens and inspiring recent headlines like, "Fisticuffs, aisle two".
At the toy store where I work things are a little different, a lot of people go out of town to visit family; people don't schedule a lot of birthdays that weekend, so no last minute party gift buying that make up a lot of our weekend business. Last weekend was A LOT busier than this weekend, since people kill two birds with one stone by delivering Christmas gifts during the thanksgiving visit.
That said, we certainly still get a holiday angst preview even if we don't get people tackle one another. This occurs mostly courtesy of the visiting grandparents who being asked for things that they can't even remotely relate to.
A grand father asked about a Gamecube game that was the only thing his grandson wanted for Christmas. Unfortunately, I thought might be out of print, "It's an really old game, at least two or three years".
"Two years makes it old?"
"For a video game, yeah."
For those not in the know, Lego makes a line of popular action figures called Bionicle. A lot of kids get obsessed with collecting every one when a new line comes out; from a parental perspective, the difference between them is mainly the six different colors they are. A grandmother had a list of the coveted colors from her grandchild, "He wants the red and blue Anika Bionicle."
I showed her where they were but she was skeptical, "But these are,'Inika' Bionicles."
"Yes, he must have misspelled it, there is no such thing as 'Anika' Bionicles."
"I don't know, he was pretty specific about what he wanted."
"This is what he's asking for, trust me."
"I guess I HAVE to trust you..." There's nothing like having to talk people into buying what they came in the story to buy.
Another came up to register with a small knight figure. "Do you have a box for this?"
I said,"No, we do't have gift boxes, we can wrap it, though."
"I think for this type of money ($4.50) I should get something, do you have any tissue paper for it?"
"No, we don't have any tissue paper either, but they can wrap it in the back of the store."
"You can't give me a sheet of tissue paper," he said incredulously; convinced that I was hiding something from him, for no other reason than random spite.
Eyeing the growing line forming behind him I said,"I'm sorry, but I can't give you what I don't have." He gave no response as I directed his attention to behind my counter with it's utter lack of gift boxes, shiny tissue or any gift wrapping accoutrements. "And I can't conjure one up for you."
"That will remind me not to shop HERE again."
I shrugged him farewell.
His daughter called to complain about me, "My father wanted to get a figure wrapped, and your cashier wouldn't do it. We spend a lot of money there, " which is a common reason people use at my store to expect the impossible and suspend the basic rules of human decency.
"The customer is always right," if you've ever said that without irony, you've never worked in retail.
Big box stores create their stupid Black Friday sales, marking a limited supply of coveted Items lower than the store's actual cost (it's called a loss leader)so that people clog up the highways with the other thrifty shoppers and line up the night before for the privilege of pushing through the doors when the store opens and inspiring recent headlines like, "Fisticuffs, aisle two".
At the toy store where I work things are a little different, a lot of people go out of town to visit family; people don't schedule a lot of birthdays that weekend, so no last minute party gift buying that make up a lot of our weekend business. Last weekend was A LOT busier than this weekend, since people kill two birds with one stone by delivering Christmas gifts during the thanksgiving visit.
That said, we certainly still get a holiday angst preview even if we don't get people tackle one another. This occurs mostly courtesy of the visiting grandparents who being asked for things that they can't even remotely relate to.
A grand father asked about a Gamecube game that was the only thing his grandson wanted for Christmas. Unfortunately, I thought might be out of print, "It's an really old game, at least two or three years".
"Two years makes it old?"
"For a video game, yeah."
For those not in the know, Lego makes a line of popular action figures called Bionicle. A lot of kids get obsessed with collecting every one when a new line comes out; from a parental perspective, the difference between them is mainly the six different colors they are. A grandmother had a list of the coveted colors from her grandchild, "He wants the red and blue Anika Bionicle."
I showed her where they were but she was skeptical, "But these are,'Inika' Bionicles."
"Yes, he must have misspelled it, there is no such thing as 'Anika' Bionicles."
"I don't know, he was pretty specific about what he wanted."
"This is what he's asking for, trust me."
"I guess I HAVE to trust you..." There's nothing like having to talk people into buying what they came in the story to buy.
Another came up to register with a small knight figure. "Do you have a box for this?"
I said,"No, we do't have gift boxes, we can wrap it, though."
"I think for this type of money ($4.50) I should get something, do you have any tissue paper for it?"
"No, we don't have any tissue paper either, but they can wrap it in the back of the store."
"You can't give me a sheet of tissue paper," he said incredulously; convinced that I was hiding something from him, for no other reason than random spite.
Eyeing the growing line forming behind him I said,"I'm sorry, but I can't give you what I don't have." He gave no response as I directed his attention to behind my counter with it's utter lack of gift boxes, shiny tissue or any gift wrapping accoutrements. "And I can't conjure one up for you."
"That will remind me not to shop HERE again."
I shrugged him farewell.
His daughter called to complain about me, "My father wanted to get a figure wrapped, and your cashier wouldn't do it. We spend a lot of money there, " which is a common reason people use at my store to expect the impossible and suspend the basic rules of human decency.
"The customer is always right," if you've ever said that without irony, you've never worked in retail.
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
Fun facts about Music
I've been getting some complaints about not posting enough, so he's a twofer. Some of my younger readers might not know what I talking about, so be forewarned.
Rick James and Neil Young were in a band briefly in the mid 60s called the Mynah Birds. The group formed in Canada while Rick was AWOL from the Navy and recorded an album for Motown before Rick got arrested by the FBI for desertion.
Children's book authorShel Silverstein (Where the Sidewalk Ends, The Giving Tree) was a songwriter that wrote hits "A Boy Named Sue", made famous by Johnny Cash, and "The Cover of The Rolling Stone" done by Dr Hook and the Medicine Show.
Chevy Chase played drums in, his discription, a "bad college jazz band" called The Leather Canary that turned into Steely Dan after his departure.
Richard Edson, Veteran "That Guy" actor was the first drummer of Sonic Youth.
You know, that guy!
Barry Manilow's "I Write the Songs" was actually written by Bruce Johnson of the Beach Boys.
Rick James and Neil Young were in a band briefly in the mid 60s called the Mynah Birds. The group formed in Canada while Rick was AWOL from the Navy and recorded an album for Motown before Rick got arrested by the FBI for desertion.
Children's book authorShel Silverstein (Where the Sidewalk Ends, The Giving Tree) was a songwriter that wrote hits "A Boy Named Sue", made famous by Johnny Cash, and "The Cover of The Rolling Stone" done by Dr Hook and the Medicine Show.
Chevy Chase played drums in, his discription, a "bad college jazz band" called The Leather Canary that turned into Steely Dan after his departure.
Richard Edson, Veteran "That Guy" actor was the first drummer of Sonic Youth.
You know, that guy!
Barry Manilow's "I Write the Songs" was actually written by Bruce Johnson of the Beach Boys.
America's Lowest Common Denominator Found!
Researchers and social scientists announced that they have finally discovered what they believe is the American public's lowest common denominator: the point where increasingly sensationalist and sociopathic behavior no longer becomes welcome as popular culture. With the public disapproval of the release of the O.J. Simpson book, If I Did It, and a subsequent promotional interview reaching a level for both projects to be abandoned; this line, which many believed wouldn't be discovered in our lifetime. With the recent televising of public defecation on Flavor of Love and the rumor of a $50 million offer for the Brittany sex tape the line looked in-perceptively low.
Acclaimed amateur sociologist Pete Wright says of the development, "It's some what relieving to know that the general public doesn't think of an acquitted double murderer's de facto confession as acceptable entertainment, especially since he, his interviewer (If I Did It's publisher Judith Regan) and Fox (owner of the network that was televising the interview and Reagon's publishing company) were going to make a lot of money off it."
"Thankfully, corporate deregulation and 'synergy' can only go so far."
Acclaimed amateur sociologist Pete Wright says of the development, "It's some what relieving to know that the general public doesn't think of an acquitted double murderer's de facto confession as acceptable entertainment, especially since he, his interviewer (If I Did It's publisher Judith Regan) and Fox (owner of the network that was televising the interview and Reagon's publishing company) were going to make a lot of money off it."
"Thankfully, corporate deregulation and 'synergy' can only go so far."
Monday, November 20, 2006
Stupid things you only do in your early twenties (hopefully)
Most of these things are more guy things, but anyway...
If you arrive late at a party, you drink a lot quickly to "catch up".
You decorate your living room in stolen signs and/or porn.
You are friends with people you can't stand.
You date someone that treats you like shit because they're really hot. No dude, seriously, really hot.
You actually WANT to go to a party at a shitty house with sweaty drunken people packed in like Vienna sausages.
As a guy, You wear a dress and/or makeup and identify yourself as a "feminist" to celebrate your originality and open mindedness, when it's really to get attention from feminists who like girly men who wear dresses and make-up.
As a girl, that this approach would actually work.
If you arrive late at a party, you drink a lot quickly to "catch up".
You decorate your living room in stolen signs and/or porn.
You are friends with people you can't stand.
You date someone that treats you like shit because they're really hot. No dude, seriously, really hot.
You actually WANT to go to a party at a shitty house with sweaty drunken people packed in like Vienna sausages.
As a guy, You wear a dress and/or makeup and identify yourself as a "feminist" to celebrate your originality and open mindedness, when it's really to get attention from feminists who like girly men who wear dresses and make-up.
As a girl, that this approach would actually work.
Monday, November 13, 2006
More Fun Facts!
The state motto of Maryland is, "Manly acts, womanly words".
Mario, the star of countless video games, was named after the landlord of the Nintendo of America warehouse to honor the fact that he didn't kick them out when they owned him back rent, in the financially lean times before "Donkey Kong" made them overnight sensations. The Mario character in the original Donkey Kong video game was "Jumpman".
Mariska Hargitay, best known as detective Olivia Benson on "Law and Order:SVU", was the daughter of bombshell Jayne Mansfield. Mariska was sleeping in the backseat when her mother was killed in the car crash that claimed the lives of her divorce lawyer and driver as well. Contrary to popular Hollywood legend, Mansfield wasn't decapitated in the accident.
Also, Loni Anderson and Arnold Schwarzenegger played Mariska's parents in a TV biopic about them. Is that geeky enough for you?
Metal god Tony Iommi of Black Sabbath played briefly with Jethro Tull. He was with them long enough to be filmed with them when they played the Rolling Stones Rock and Roll Circus. The video shows the Tull looking so grungy that if they took a bath, they'd make soup.
Mario, the star of countless video games, was named after the landlord of the Nintendo of America warehouse to honor the fact that he didn't kick them out when they owned him back rent, in the financially lean times before "Donkey Kong" made them overnight sensations. The Mario character in the original Donkey Kong video game was "Jumpman".
Mariska Hargitay, best known as detective Olivia Benson on "Law and Order:SVU", was the daughter of bombshell Jayne Mansfield. Mariska was sleeping in the backseat when her mother was killed in the car crash that claimed the lives of her divorce lawyer and driver as well. Contrary to popular Hollywood legend, Mansfield wasn't decapitated in the accident.
Also, Loni Anderson and Arnold Schwarzenegger played Mariska's parents in a TV biopic about them. Is that geeky enough for you?
Metal god Tony Iommi of Black Sabbath played briefly with Jethro Tull. He was with them long enough to be filmed with them when they played the Rolling Stones Rock and Roll Circus. The video shows the Tull looking so grungy that if they took a bath, they'd make soup.
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
Your Pal Pete to the GOP:"Crackers, please!"
People who know me personally know that if I come across something or someone says or does something that doesn't fit my perception of the truth, I'll exclaim "Cracker, please!".
This happens a lot at the movies, big surprise. But lately the desperate and deceptive politics played by the Republicans.
"President Bush never said 'Stay the course'".
Cracker, please! That's like saying Larry the Cable Guy never said, "Git-r-done!" Not only was it practically all he said for a while, he seemed to be pretty proud of it when he said it.
"John Kerry 'stay in school or go to Iraq' joke was shameful."
I agree but,
Cracker, please! Who's the one who loosened the academic and psychological requirements for recruits?
"The timing of the Mark Foley scandal seems to be suspiciously timed to help the Democrats"
Cracker, please! It's not nearly as suspicious as the fact that a Republican congressman was a sexual predator and there seemed to cover-up to hide that fact from the public.
It's called an "october surprise" and it's as common as a wrench in the political toolbox. In fact the modern day October Surprise was perfected by the Republicans to get Richard Nixon and Ronald Reagan elected.
"If you vote Democratic, the terrorists win"
Cracker, please! To my perception, they're already winning. Five years after 9/11 and we're still tearing ourselves apart as a country, using means that we thought we were above using to justify ends that we can't easily define (just saying "to spread freedom" won't wash anymore).
We have created more terrorist and more people that support their activity by this misguided war that seems to be made up as it goes along. It sucks when they do it in Jazz, why should foreign policy be any different?
I wonder with all the lurid scandals that have hobbled the GOP lately if Katherine Harris would stand by her comment that voting Democrat would be "legislating sin". If she did, I would be first to give her a hearty..... You know.
This happens a lot at the movies, big surprise. But lately the desperate and deceptive politics played by the Republicans.
"President Bush never said 'Stay the course'".
Cracker, please! That's like saying Larry the Cable Guy never said, "Git-r-done!" Not only was it practically all he said for a while, he seemed to be pretty proud of it when he said it.
"John Kerry 'stay in school or go to Iraq' joke was shameful."
I agree but,
Cracker, please! Who's the one who loosened the academic and psychological requirements for recruits?
"The timing of the Mark Foley scandal seems to be suspiciously timed to help the Democrats"
Cracker, please! It's not nearly as suspicious as the fact that a Republican congressman was a sexual predator and there seemed to cover-up to hide that fact from the public.
It's called an "october surprise" and it's as common as a wrench in the political toolbox. In fact the modern day October Surprise was perfected by the Republicans to get Richard Nixon and Ronald Reagan elected.
"If you vote Democratic, the terrorists win"
Cracker, please! To my perception, they're already winning. Five years after 9/11 and we're still tearing ourselves apart as a country, using means that we thought we were above using to justify ends that we can't easily define (just saying "to spread freedom" won't wash anymore).
We have created more terrorist and more people that support their activity by this misguided war that seems to be made up as it goes along. It sucks when they do it in Jazz, why should foreign policy be any different?
I wonder with all the lurid scandals that have hobbled the GOP lately if Katherine Harris would stand by her comment that voting Democrat would be "legislating sin". If she did, I would be first to give her a hearty..... You know.
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