A Couple Of Things

A couple of things that have been on my mind:

-Have you seen the preview for the movie "Reign Over Me" with Adam Sandler? Is it just me or does he look a lot like Bob Dylan with his hair grown out? They both have the Jew-fro going on. I know they're already coming out with a Dylan biopic where Adrien Brody, Colin Farrell, Richard Gere, Julianne Moore and Cate Blanchett all play him at different times of his life (I know, what the fuck?), but they should consider Sandler for the next one. They might want to have someone else sing the songs though, I can't imagine that singing "Masters Of War" à la "The Chanukah Song" would sound very good.


-James Brown's body was finally placed in a crypt at one of his daughter's home in Beech Island, South Carolina today, a mere two months after his death. Where the hell has he been kept all this time, anyway?! How do you think his body is holding up by now? I hope embalming technology can keep up with the demands of feuding family members. And if you thought that it took long enough to get this man buried, just wait. He's just being placed there temporarily while a public mausoleum is being built at an undisclosed location. I hope the Godfather of Soul is laughing at all of this from somewhere because it sure looks like a great big farce to me.


-Have I mentioned how good the new Arcade Fire album, Neon Bible, is? Yes? Well, it is.


-Now, for the record, I want to commit my disdain for the whole "Secret" phenomenon to print. The people I work with already know and share my pain, but for those of you who don't know what I'm talking about, allow me to explain.

The "Secret" is the brainchild of Rhonda Byrne, an Australian television producer who worked on several reality tv shows. Basically it started out as a self help dvd (it has since been turned into a book, another dvd, and any other thing that you can think of that can be sold for money). It claims that the secret of happiness is unlocked through the laws of attraction (if you think positively then positive things befall you, if you think negatively, well. . .you know). It also claims that all of history's great minds lived by and shared this "secret". The book, which I flipped through to see what all the fuss was about, is merely a collection of inspirational quotes and shallow interpretations of them by "living masters of the Secret". Yes, so basically it's the same bunch of new-age bullshit that has been repackaged and remarketed once again. Big on promises, short on substance. It's just lowest common denominator marketing up to its old tricks.

The thing is, people are buying it up like crazy. For months people asked about the dvd at work (it was only available on the Secret's website for a while). We would get questioned about it every day. When it finally came out in stores we couldn't keep it in stock. Oprah, the almighty goddess of commerce, did two shows about it in the span of two weeks. And then we really couldn't keep it in stock. I now know that nothing works better at separating idiots from their money than Oprah.

Housewives everywhere now had a key to happiness, and it was waiting for them at their neighborhood dvd store. Every time we had a new shipment come in they would already all be reserved for customers. Every third person that called the store was wondering if we had it in stock. People were driving all over town seeking a stray copy (and driving around town in Atlanta traffic can take hours and copious amounts of patience). I've never seen such a thing firsthand. I mean, you hear about people coming to blows over Tickle-Me Elmo dolls before Christmas but it always seems like it's happening somewhere else –like in New York or someplace where far too many people live in a far too small space– surely not in your town. But it is happening all over. The book and the dvd have sold well over a million respectively.

And this thing ain't cheap. We sold them for $30 the first week they came out and they're currently sitting at $34.99. But people don't care. I mean, it's the secret to happiness, what's a few bucks compared to eternal happiness? And plus Oprah said to buy it (I wonder if she gets kickbacks because she definitely should). Why can't she ever promote good things on her show? She's got all this influence and all we get out of it is fucking Il Divo and the "Secret" and Dr Phil? Way to go Oprah, those are great contributions to society. I can't wait for her to run for president.

I know I shouldn't be surprised at people's ignorance anymore, but goddamit if it doesn't happen every time. I just want to slap some sense into every person that comes in asking about it. I mean, is it wrong for me to want these people to die? Wouldn't we all be better off for it? And that's not a rhetorical question, wouldn't we?!? Can't we somehow convince all these people to kill themselves (and perhaps take all the Mormons, Jehovah's Witnesses and rednecks with them)?

Maybe if we got Oprah involved……

Neon Bible

So I haven't written a blog in a while, mostly because I haven't had anything of note to bitch about. And I still don't, really.

Mostly I just wanted to boast about how good the new Arcade Fire album, Neon Bible is.

--It's really good. Really, really good--

And since it's being reviewed by every publication that is currently in print, I'll keep my critical analysis short and sweet:

--It's really good. Really, really good--

So, if you liked their first album, Funeral, I suggest you hop on your bike, jump on your skateboard, lace up your rollerblades or get on whatever-the-hell it is you ride around in and mozy on over to your local record store to purchase a copy for yourself. It'll be good for you.

Post Game Analysis

So since there's going to be plenty of analysis of the game itself, I'll just focus on some of the other aspects of the Super Bowl.

Let's start with the pregame festivities. The "Built Ford Tough" pregame show consisted of what is best described as the shittiest Summer Olympic Games opening ceremony ever. Gloria Estefan kicked it off by making another "Miami=Caliente" reference (first off, Gloria Estefan's cultural importance is being vastly overestimated by someone at the Super Bowl preshow planning committee; she's never been big, and even if she ever was, it was twenty-five motherfucking years ago. Surly there's someone who can represent the city of Miami better than her. And also, I'm incredibly sick and tired of anything even remotely associated with being Latin being referred to as "hot", or "caliente" as it were. Many Latin things are in fact quite "frio" or "insignificante", putas!). Conga drums begin to be beaten loudly and a lame marching band appears.

And then the fucking circus begins.

Yes, the one from Quebec.

Tonight, Cirque De Soleil officially joined American Idol and Fox News as the third part of my Axis Of Evil. These things poison and harm our society to almost incomprehensible levels. I don't see why anyone who is alive finds that shit amusing. Seriously.

After that glob of horseshit was over Billy Joel sang the national anthem quite quickly (which is how the fucking song is meant to be sung, there's no need to stretch every note out to five minutes) and people cheered. At this point, I would like to touch upon how awful the production value is on any CBS game. The sound was awful; muffled and toneless. The cameras constantly had condensation on the lenses (I mean, they knew it was going to rain the whole time; couldn't they send an intern out to buy some Rain-X? That shit works, yo.) and the commentators are by far the lamest on TV. But I digress, on to the half time show.

I was pretty disappointed. Don't get me wrong, Prince has written some pretty bad-ass songs in his day. He just chose not to play a single one of them at the halftime show. What was that?! A bunch of covers? "All Along The Watchtower"? "Proud Mary"? A fucking Foo Fighters song? What happened to Prince? I mean, I know what happened; he found God and renounced what made him cool in the first place -songs about fucking- which he was great at writing. Yeah, he can play guitar, we get it. So can Yngwie Malmsteen but you don't see his bloated carcass being brought out for any halftime shows. Well, perhaps at half time of a pee-wee hockey game in Sweden or Denmark or where ever the hell he was from.

So yeah, at least the game was entertaining for the first half. Then Rexy had to go and fuck it up. Way to choke dude. Now we all have to hear about the legacy of Peyton Manning for the rest of our lives and how he rose above and overcame and blah blah blah. . . . . .I'm sick of it already.

The Bitch Is Back. No, Really.

So yeah, Elton John came into my work today.

And guess who helped him check out? That's right, I was involved in a direct commercial transaction with Sir Elton John.

He came in wearing a black track suit and he was accompained by two gentlemen (bodyguard and assistant, I assume). He purchased things in pairs. Two copies of Rob Sheffield's new book, Love Is A Mixtape; two copies of Lang Lang's Dragon Songs and two copies of a book displaying the worst album covers ever. Those along with an album by Frank Yankovic (the polka guy!!!) and a couple of other books whose title I don't recall. He paid cash out of his enormous billfold which held dozens of hundred dollar bills. And you know what was really funny? He had a Barnes & Noble Member Card (which had expired, by the way, and I happily renewed). That's right, millionaires like to save 10% too.

Apparently he comes by every six months or so when he's at his place in Atlanta. I was told that last time he spent way more money, like two grand. This time he only dropped a couple of hundred dollars. Maybe he'll be back in the next few days. Maybe he'll become a regular; I'll see him every day and say "Hey Reggie, what's new?" and he'll reply, "Ya know, same ol' same ol', buddy!" and we'll talk about the weather or sports or something mundane like that.

I gave him no preferential treatment and did not even acknowledge the fact that I knew who he was. I think that tactic can really go either way with famous people, they either feel at ease and comfortable because you're not screaming "Oh my God!!" in their face or terribly offended that you don't know who they are (so insecure, aren't they?). I couldn't really tell how he responded. He was neither rude nor pleasant, very matter-of-factly all business.

My mother screamed at me when I told her about this encounter; she said that I should have asked him for an autograph, you know, for my dear old mother who was such a big fan. But I couldn't do that. First of all, that's not really a professional thing to do at work. And then, I'm not really the kind of person who asks for autographs from people, it's just weird, I'd rather just take the experience for what it is -a chance encounter with an aging queen that also happens to have been knighted by an actual aging queen.

Soul Brother Number 1

James Brown died today not 5 miles away from where I live. Even though his contribution to music in the last 20-30 years has been kind of dubious, his work in the early 60s through the mid 70s was undoubtedly influential both musically and socially. I had no idea he was sick in any way; he was only 73 years old. I'm sorry I never got to see him perform live.

Year's Best List

All right, I guess the time has come to do a best of the year list. Why, you ask? Because as a superficial, pretentious jerk I believe that people are basically defined by the things they like. And I want to share some of the things I liked so that you will in turn like me more; you know, 'cause you're a superficial, pretentious jerk too. Which, c'mon, we all know you pretty much are....

Top Records (in no particular order)
-TV On The Radio, Return To Cookie Mountain
-Thom Yorke, The Eraser
-Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Show Your Bones
-Gnarls Barkley, St. Elsewhere
-Eef Barzelay, Bitter Honey
-Forget Cassettes, Salt
-Sean Lennon, Friendly Fire
-Cursive, Happy Hollow
-Pearl Jam, Pearl Jam
-David Bazan, Fewer Moving Parts
-Belle & Sebastian, The Life Pursuit
-Calexico, Garden Ruin
-Loose Fur, Born Again In The USA
-Arctic Monkeys, Whatever People Say I Am
-Mogwai, Mr. Beast
-Isobel Campbell & Mark Lanegan, Ballad Of The Broken Seas
-Cat Power, The Greatest
-Johnny Cash, American V: One Hundred Highways
-Jeremy Enigk, World Waits

And yeah, I feel the need to omit Tom Waits, Orphans because I technically haven't gotten it yet; but c'mon, I already know it belongs on the list. I don't have to listen to it to know I'm gonna love it.

Guilty Pleasure Pop Singles Of The Year
-Beyoncé, "Check On It"
-Justin Timberlake, "My Love"
-Chamillionaire, "Ridin Dirty" and to a certain extent Weird Al Yankovic, "White & Nerdy" is way better
-Prince, "Black Sweat"
-Jay-Z, "Show Me What You Got" (wait, I don't feel guilty about this one at all)
-Fergie, "London Bridge"
-Christina Aguilera, "Ain't No Other Man"

I won't publicly admit to loving these songs ever again (however, I may start dancing and singing along uncontrollably) so I ask that you forget what you just read and go back to believing that I only listen to things that I pretend to like only to impress other elitists.

Top Movies (I really didn't see that many this year, but here goes it)
-Little Miss Sunshine
-Running With Scissors
-Borat
-Jackass 2
-Thank You For Smoking
-Talladega Nights
-Superman Returns
-Strangers With Candy

Seriously, those are like 90% of the movies I saw in the theater this year. I must really know what I'm going to like or otherwise I'm really lucky (not to mention that I don't get out to the movies much). I may have to also mention "Me And You And Everyone We Know", not because I particularly liked it but because Adrienne and I constantly quote it. Especially the scatological perceptions of sex from the seven year old boy in it; we can relate.

Top Shows On Television
-Dexter: Season 1 (Showtime)
-Weeds: Season 2 (Showtime)
-The Sopranos: Season 6, Part 1 (HBO)
-Big Love: Season 1 (HBO)
-Lucky Louie: Season 1&2 (HBO)
-Project Runway (Bravo)
-Top Chef (Bravo)
-Survivor: Cook Islands (CBS)
-Six Feet Under (reruns on Bravo)
-Intervention (A&E)
-No Reservations with Anthony Bourdain (Travel Channel)
-Flavor Of Love 2 (VH1)
-Best Week Ever (VH1)
-The Soup (E!)
-Pardon The Interruption (ESPN)
-Real Time with Bill Maher (HBO)

Yeah, I watch a lot of TV. It's become pretty apparent at this point. But with shows like this on I can definitely justify my $80 monthly digital cable bill (with DVR, bitches!). And who says that TV can't be an educational, transcendent experience? I've learned a lot from Flavor Of Love. Like to never get between twenty skanks and their (mildly retarded) man; the puncture wounds from fake nails and six inch heels are not worth it.

So there it is, my year's picks. Disagree? Screw you, write your own damn blog!

Musings On Metal Mania

As I write this I'm watching a show on VH1 Classic called Metal Mania which is mostly comprised of music videos from 80's metal bands (Iron Maiden, Skid Row, Whitesnake, Ratt, etc.). Right now a video for Testament's song "Over The Wall" is on. It is very low budget --as most of these videos are-- and it alternates between close-up shots of the band playing to a black background and sepia colored footage of them hanging around an abandoned prison, their knuckles tightly clenching the bars. The music is best described as a mediocre attempt to sound like Kill 'Em All-era Metallica or early Slayer. I guess the overall message that they're trying to convey with this video clip is their feeling of confinement; because you know, they're in a prison and stuff.

That's another trend that I'm noticing with all these videos besides the low budgets and very unspecial effects; none of the imagery is subtle in relation to the lyrics. In fact, it's pretty much spot-on literal with no room for interpretation. If the character described in the song has a troubled home life then you will surely see a shot of his dad throwing him out of the house for listening to loud heavy metal music only to be sent down a downward spiral that will ultimately lead to him serving "18 and Life".

And the bluntness is not just in the interpretation of the lyrics, but the bands themselves. The bassist from Warrant wears a shirt in their video for "Big Talk" that says LICK ME and I'm pretty sure that his plan for wearing such an indiscriminate advertisement of his promiscuous nature is completely self serving. He plans on getting licked in all the right places, make no mistake about it. Short, sweet and to the point. No confusion whatsoever about his intensions, the girls in the crowd will surely know what to do after the show is over and they find themselves backstage (even though, what self respecting groupie would go after the bass player?).

I feel that that describes the existence of all those bands, everything had to be overblown and in your face and extreme, from the hair to the songs to the clothes and the music, leaving absolutely nothing below the surface. But that's also why some of these bands sold millions of records. Like, millions and millions more than you would ever think that they were capable of selling. We're talking Jay-Z numbers for some of the bigger ones like Bon Jovi and Skid Row. People wanted them for the shallow pricks they were and they gave it their all, no matter how ridiculous as that got. However, something tells me that most of them haven't felt any shame whatsoever for what they looked like, acted like or represented, it just doesn't fit their profile. They saw a million faces and they rocked them all because it was their destiny. What's a little spandex to get in the way of that?

Right now, a video for Overkill's "Hello From The Gutter" came on. The name of the band completely encapsulates their image. Leather pants, ripped shirts, poofy hair, spiky guitars, wall of amps behind them; complete and utter visual and aural overkill. I'm sure they sold millions of records as I'm sure that all that money they made is long gone and spent by now; it went up their noses or into fast cars and/or fast women. I hope they got some stories out of it and not just a wardrobe filled with neon green spandex and fringed white leather, that would be the real shame.

Home Invasion

Ever since we turned the air conditioning off for the season (and that was only like, a month and a half ago thanks to the looong Georgia summer) the lack of ventilation throughout the apartment brought an interesting smell to our attention. It's kinda like the smell you would expect at the end of the night in some sort of cheap Asian fusion restaurant. You know, the type of place that serves Thai, Chinese, Japanese, Korean, Pakistani and a bit of Indian thrown in for good measure; a place that is about as authentic as the Olive Garden only it desecrates about ten cultures at a time instead of just one.

And this is a smell that my olfactory organs found very familiar.

You see, the first place I lived in by myself in Nashville had very thin walls and interconnected plumbing as well as ventilation systems that knew no boundaries so I would often catch whiffs of what my neighbors were cooking up. And it was never good smells, like I had often experienced in Italy (where if you're walking the streets around lunch or dinner time your appetite grows exponentially as you pass every open kitchen window). No, they were always wafts of awfulness akin to rotted produce or spoiled milk. An especially awful smell seemed to only appear every few weeks from the apartment next door where a Pakistani man dwelled. I only imagined what kind of concoction could possibly smell this bad. Boiled cabbage and sweat-drenched socks, perhaps? Anyway, it was bad.

And now it's back with a vengeance thanks to our what-we-assume-to-be Korean neighbors. Except it's there every day, every moment of the damn day. What's weird is that we share a side of our apartment with these people and we have never heard a single sound from them. No noise, just smells. They must sit silently, constantly and tirelessly stirring their enormous pots of awful stew. Our coat closet has been hit the hardest and we have to leave it open once in a while to prevent full jacket contamination. Otherwise we run the risk of bringing the smell with us everywhere we go. And that is not acceptable.

I guess we'll just have to bear it until it's time to turn the heat on, except that might not be for another couple of months knowing the meteorological perplexities of the deep South.

Crap bag.