So it's been a while since last I posted. Sorry! But it's for a good reason: I was setting up dangerousdirtyunfun.com!
That's right, treasured readers. I took the plunge and registered the Dangerous, Dirty, and Unfun domain. There are a number of very good and very important reasons for the move, which I'll go over in the post I'm about to write there. But this is just a reminder to change your bookmarks or RSS feeds (you can add the new DD&U to your RSS reader by clicking on the link at the way bottom of the page). I'll keep this Blogger site around, so you guys can always go back and read your favorite posts from your favorite blog-writing guy. I'll see you over at the new site!
Friday, May 29, 2009
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Music is my imaginary friend
I usually tend not to like videos that tack to the song too literally. (Witness my short rant about the video for "Dammit.") But sometimes it works. Especially when I think the protagonist looks kinda like me (since he has brown hair and glasses).
Listen to some Spill Canvas.
Listen to some Spill Canvas.
: (
Is there anything more disappointing than seeing a pretty girl on the train, and she's reading Atlas Shrugged? I contend "no."
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Breath of fresh air
So maybe BHO is doing the opposite of the right thing by suppressing photographic evidence of America's torture regime, and his administration may or may not be just as much in the pocket of corporate America as every other one. But things like this lead me to believe that his heart is still in the right place.
Crazy pills
Haven't done one of these in a while. These sorts of posts would be cathartic, if they weren't so wearying to the soul.
The gist: Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid announced that the Senate is withholding money earmarked for closing the prison camp at Guantanamo Bay until the Obama administration presents a plan for what will be done with the prisoners. Which has the whiff of logic about it, although the pessimist in me wonders about a chicken-or-egg stalemate occurring: "We can't appropriate the money without a plan," says the Senate; "We need the money before we can come up with a plan," says the administration. (I readily admit that that scenario doesn't really have the whiff of logic about it, but keep reading if you want to see our dear old friend logic dragged out of the bar, thrown in a puddle, and mercilessly thrashed with a couple of socks full of stoopid.)
No, treasured reader, what really bothers me is the soupy dreck that Senator Reid posited to justify his caucus's stance. I'll cut and paste an exchange at today's press conference, guest-starring an undoubtedly dumbfounded reporter (or reporters) who, if my knowledge of human nature is accurate, walked briskly home to a darkened room and quietly wept. Here's the relevant back and forth, lifted wholesale from the good folks at Think Progress:
It's almost as if the transfer of prisoners from one detention facility to another is a completely novel and alien concept to him. I imagine his reaction to this idea is akin to that of a Gallic serf trying to understand a fax machine. I refuse to believe that a human in the 21st century can be so stupid, so I have to assume that the majority leader is adopting right-wing talking points, which just makes him a terrible leader and, well, I guess it does make him that stupid.
I mean, honestly! If you want pornography, you look to the United States. If you want avarice so potent it can be bottled, you look to the United States. And if you want a prison-industrial state that would compel Stalin to stand up and golf clap, you look to the United States. Here's a fact sheet from Senator Jim Webb's site, outlining some of the more stunning details about prisons in the U.S. According to the King's College World Prison Brief, we've got 760 prisoners per 100,000 people, the highest rate in the world. That's 100 more than the second-place nation, for those of you who didn't click through. Those numbers are obviously inexcusable, but the point here is, locking people up is something the United States does with relish and aplomb.
But I suppose, if you were a certain type of craven torture-and-Constitution-shredding fetishist, you could rationalize not wanting to have terrorists, or guys we just assumed were terrorists and threw them in prison without a hearing, on American soil. I'll look past that, for now.
If you want my real beef, dear reader, scroll back up and re-read how Senator Reid responded to the reporter's first assertion. Actually, don't scroll up. I'll re-paste it for you:
The gist: Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid announced that the Senate is withholding money earmarked for closing the prison camp at Guantanamo Bay until the Obama administration presents a plan for what will be done with the prisoners. Which has the whiff of logic about it, although the pessimist in me wonders about a chicken-or-egg stalemate occurring: "We can't appropriate the money without a plan," says the Senate; "We need the money before we can come up with a plan," says the administration. (I readily admit that that scenario doesn't really have the whiff of logic about it, but keep reading if you want to see our dear old friend logic dragged out of the bar, thrown in a puddle, and mercilessly thrashed with a couple of socks full of stoopid.)
No, treasured reader, what really bothers me is the soupy dreck that Senator Reid posited to justify his caucus's stance. I'll cut and paste an exchange at today's press conference, guest-starring an undoubtedly dumbfounded reporter (or reporters) who, if my knowledge of human nature is accurate, walked briskly home to a darkened room and quietly wept. Here's the relevant back and forth, lifted wholesale from the good folks at Think Progress:
REID: I’m saying that the United States Senate, Democrats and Republicans, do not want terrorists to be released in the United States. That’s very clear.Now, I can comment about the political efficacy of putting yourself in league with the Republicans. The generally smart thing to do these days, as any child, dog, or slightly damp sponge will tell you, is to run as fast as you can in the opposite direction of the GOP. But that's not my beef. My beef is that NOTHING THAT SENATOR REID SAID MAKES ANY SENSE!
QUESTION: No one’s talking about releasing them. We’re talking about putting them in prison somewhere in the United States.
REID: Can’t put them in prison unless you release them.
QUESTION: Sir, are you going to clarify that a little bit? …
REID: I can’t make it any more clear than the statement I have given to you. We will never allow terrorists to be released in the United States.
It's almost as if the transfer of prisoners from one detention facility to another is a completely novel and alien concept to him. I imagine his reaction to this idea is akin to that of a Gallic serf trying to understand a fax machine. I refuse to believe that a human in the 21st century can be so stupid, so I have to assume that the majority leader is adopting right-wing talking points, which just makes him a terrible leader and, well, I guess it does make him that stupid.
I mean, honestly! If you want pornography, you look to the United States. If you want avarice so potent it can be bottled, you look to the United States. And if you want a prison-industrial state that would compel Stalin to stand up and golf clap, you look to the United States. Here's a fact sheet from Senator Jim Webb's site, outlining some of the more stunning details about prisons in the U.S. According to the King's College World Prison Brief, we've got 760 prisoners per 100,000 people, the highest rate in the world. That's 100 more than the second-place nation, for those of you who didn't click through. Those numbers are obviously inexcusable, but the point here is, locking people up is something the United States does with relish and aplomb.
But I suppose, if you were a certain type of craven torture-and-Constitution-shredding fetishist, you could rationalize not wanting to have terrorists, or guys we just assumed were terrorists and threw them in prison without a hearing, on American soil. I'll look past that, for now.
If you want my real beef, dear reader, scroll back up and re-read how Senator Reid responded to the reporter's first assertion. Actually, don't scroll up. I'll re-paste it for you:
REID: Can’t put them in prison unless you release them.Oh, you can't, can't you? Really? Did the majority leader swish that one around first before it fell out of his mouth? It must have been all that poor reporter could do to keep from screaming "They're already in prison! There's no releasing involved!" I feel bad for everyone in the room. It would be no different if Senator Reid leaned over the podium and, with a cocky grin and arched eyebrow, authoritatively said "You know, ice cream has no bones. Purple monkey dishwasher." I know it goes without saying, but I feel like I'm taking crazy pills.
Monday, May 18, 2009
Gossip Girl reveals my secret identity. It's Timmy
This is it, precious readers. The season finale of Gossip Girl. I’m already envisioning the jealousy my future self will have for my past self, after I (will have?) realize(d?) the long, sorrowful months we’ll have to wait before a new season.
Quick housekeeping note: it’s currently 8:02 and I’m waiting for my friend meg to come by and watch, so the timestamps will be a little off for this week’s diary. Like anyone pays attention to the timestamps. Or even reads this stupid blog for jerks!
8:06 So Meg just showed up!
8:07 Serena's mugshot, on the cover of the Daily News? As the sole story? Get the hell outta here. If A-Rod in a gimp suit punched a puppy with Mayor Bloomberg recording it on his webcam, it wouldn't be the only story on the front page of the Daily News.
I secretly love when the characters talk about Gossip Girl. Remember when we actually cared about the identity of Gossip Girl? Like that makes any difference whatsoever.
Good question, posed by my pal: Why the hell is Serena wearing that blue dress to brunch?
8:09 Is V wearing makeup? Has she always done that? She seems a little less pretty.
And remember when this show was like, about Dan?
8:11 Wouldn’t it be fun if J were the queen . . . J? And did they cast a girl that looks and sounds like a rat, with creases under her eyes, to be Jenny’s rival on purpose? Of course.
Has there been any indication ever that St. Jude’s colors were blue, and Constance was green? Not that it matters. It just seems a little out of nowhere.
When did Lily Rhodes’s eyes change color? Let’s talk about that.
And why isn’t Serena wearing her mortarboard? Even the headmistress is wearing one!
And what happened to poppy and Gabriel! Shouldn’t that be like, the first thing that we’re presented with on this dopey show?
And why can’t I start a sentence without a conjunction? And why am I only asking questions?
8:17 GG tosses some relatively innocuous barbs at the gang, and now they’re all pissed and ready to take action? If only they put this type of conviction into bringing down poppy and Gabriel . . .
Grandpa seems pretty switched on by Nate’s story. Effing creep.
8:19 Serena here reminds me of that episode of the Simpsons, where Krusty becomes an edgy comic, and Homer wants him to start bagging on pants. “Can you believe Gossip Girl,” she asks. “Don’t you hate pants?” Homer wails.
Shouldn’t Nate, S, B, and Chuck have a dopey canine sidekick with them?
Jonathan? That seems anticlimactic.
8:23 Back at live TV. And Jonathan “hacked into” her server? Anticlimactic and beyond a reasonable suspension of disbelief. This is GG at its best.
It’s ok for me to conflate Rufus Humphrey and Butch Walker, right? That’s what we’re supposed to do, right?
8:25 This is a legitimate question: what’s up with the yellow-label South American beer that these people are always getting in Brooklyn? Garrett Oliver couldn’t spring for a product placement?
8:28 This all reminds of how poorly they handled Jack Bass’s character. He could have offered us fun and excitement for seasons! Instead, he was dispensed with in a few episodes. Bad job by you, writers.
8:30 Oh boy. Are they now gonna burn the Gossip Girl (unitalicized) bridge like they burned the Jack and Ms. Carr bridge?
8:35 This is sort of like that episode of the Twilight Zone, where there’s that cocktail party where everyone puts on the masks that are supposed to mirror their souls. And then they can’t take the masks off, so they have to look as rotten as they really are, forever. You know, with the “labels” gimmick. That made sense when I started typing, I swear.
How many more times is B gonna go back to the Chuck Basswell? It’s getting tiresome!
8:37 Are Rufus and Lily gonna get married baked? Maybe they’re more like their idiot kids than they appreciate.
Also, remember when Serena and Nate had sex?
Speaking of beyond a reasonable suspension of disbelief: Serena ever outsmarting Gossip Girl.
8:45 "You can’t make people love you, but you can make them fear you." That’s some cold stuff there, B.
“Whoa whoa whoa, Dan is Gossip Girl?” Oh Nate. This reminds me of that Simpsons episode where the family goes to the magic show, and Marge gets put into the Killotine, and transforms into a bunch of monkeys. “So she was made of chimps,” Homer realizes.
8:47 Okay, I’m an idiot, because I actually got a tiny twinge of excitement thinking they’d reveal Gossip Girl’s identity. What a moron. I mean, really. Who could it possibly be that would make any sense at all!
8:50 Don’t these people EVER wear t-shirts?
No, seriously, what happened to Poppy and Gabriel?
8:53 That’s your brother, Dan! It's Scott!
8:55 So, Scott transferred FROM bu, which is good, because it means there’s one less bu student, even if he’s fictional. And it makes sense that to signify that Scott is from Boston, they would pick bu. Because why would ANYONE transfer out of the other Boston school.
8:59 Am I an idiot, or did that “Carter looking for Serena’s dad” thing come out of nowhere? Here's a hint, S: he's the DB that the girl from American Dreams beat up last episode.
9:00 Meh. So this episode ends with the writers realizing that A) we need a plotline to extend into next season, so let's pretend that S gives an F about who her dad is, and B) we need to wrap up that huge plotline with Poppy and Gabriel stealing everyone's money; let's do it off-screen! Does anyone remember how heart-wrenching last year's finale was? When Dan and Serena broke up, and it actually meant something? It was pitch perfect! Blah. Soothe yourself with this young lady's soulful and earnest cover of Death Cab's "The Ice Is Getting Thinner."
Quick housekeeping note: it’s currently 8:02 and I’m waiting for my friend meg to come by and watch, so the timestamps will be a little off for this week’s diary. Like anyone pays attention to the timestamps. Or even reads this stupid blog for jerks!
8:06 So Meg just showed up!
8:07 Serena's mugshot, on the cover of the Daily News? As the sole story? Get the hell outta here. If A-Rod in a gimp suit punched a puppy with Mayor Bloomberg recording it on his webcam, it wouldn't be the only story on the front page of the Daily News.
I secretly love when the characters talk about Gossip Girl. Remember when we actually cared about the identity of Gossip Girl? Like that makes any difference whatsoever.
Good question, posed by my pal: Why the hell is Serena wearing that blue dress to brunch?
8:09 Is V wearing makeup? Has she always done that? She seems a little less pretty.
And remember when this show was like, about Dan?
8:11 Wouldn’t it be fun if J were the queen . . . J? And did they cast a girl that looks and sounds like a rat, with creases under her eyes, to be Jenny’s rival on purpose? Of course.
Has there been any indication ever that St. Jude’s colors were blue, and Constance was green? Not that it matters. It just seems a little out of nowhere.
When did Lily Rhodes’s eyes change color? Let’s talk about that.
And why isn’t Serena wearing her mortarboard? Even the headmistress is wearing one!
And what happened to poppy and Gabriel! Shouldn’t that be like, the first thing that we’re presented with on this dopey show?
And why can’t I start a sentence without a conjunction? And why am I only asking questions?
8:17 GG tosses some relatively innocuous barbs at the gang, and now they’re all pissed and ready to take action? If only they put this type of conviction into bringing down poppy and Gabriel . . .
Grandpa seems pretty switched on by Nate’s story. Effing creep.
8:19 Serena here reminds me of that episode of the Simpsons, where Krusty becomes an edgy comic, and Homer wants him to start bagging on pants. “Can you believe Gossip Girl,” she asks. “Don’t you hate pants?” Homer wails.
Shouldn’t Nate, S, B, and Chuck have a dopey canine sidekick with them?
Jonathan? That seems anticlimactic.
8:23 Back at live TV. And Jonathan “hacked into” her server? Anticlimactic and beyond a reasonable suspension of disbelief. This is GG at its best.
It’s ok for me to conflate Rufus Humphrey and Butch Walker, right? That’s what we’re supposed to do, right?
8:25 This is a legitimate question: what’s up with the yellow-label South American beer that these people are always getting in Brooklyn? Garrett Oliver couldn’t spring for a product placement?
8:28 This all reminds of how poorly they handled Jack Bass’s character. He could have offered us fun and excitement for seasons! Instead, he was dispensed with in a few episodes. Bad job by you, writers.
8:30 Oh boy. Are they now gonna burn the Gossip Girl (unitalicized) bridge like they burned the Jack and Ms. Carr bridge?
8:35 This is sort of like that episode of the Twilight Zone, where there’s that cocktail party where everyone puts on the masks that are supposed to mirror their souls. And then they can’t take the masks off, so they have to look as rotten as they really are, forever. You know, with the “labels” gimmick. That made sense when I started typing, I swear.
How many more times is B gonna go back to the Chuck Basswell? It’s getting tiresome!
8:37 Are Rufus and Lily gonna get married baked? Maybe they’re more like their idiot kids than they appreciate.
Also, remember when Serena and Nate had sex?
Speaking of beyond a reasonable suspension of disbelief: Serena ever outsmarting Gossip Girl.
8:45 "You can’t make people love you, but you can make them fear you." That’s some cold stuff there, B.
“Whoa whoa whoa, Dan is Gossip Girl?” Oh Nate. This reminds me of that Simpsons episode where the family goes to the magic show, and Marge gets put into the Killotine, and transforms into a bunch of monkeys. “So she was made of chimps,” Homer realizes.
8:47 Okay, I’m an idiot, because I actually got a tiny twinge of excitement thinking they’d reveal Gossip Girl’s identity. What a moron. I mean, really. Who could it possibly be that would make any sense at all!
8:50 Don’t these people EVER wear t-shirts?
No, seriously, what happened to Poppy and Gabriel?
8:53 That’s your brother, Dan! It's Scott!
8:55 So, Scott transferred FROM bu, which is good, because it means there’s one less bu student, even if he’s fictional. And it makes sense that to signify that Scott is from Boston, they would pick bu. Because why would ANYONE transfer out of the other Boston school.
8:59 Am I an idiot, or did that “Carter looking for Serena’s dad” thing come out of nowhere? Here's a hint, S: he's the DB that the girl from American Dreams beat up last episode.
9:00 Meh. So this episode ends with the writers realizing that A) we need a plotline to extend into next season, so let's pretend that S gives an F about who her dad is, and B) we need to wrap up that huge plotline with Poppy and Gabriel stealing everyone's money; let's do it off-screen! Does anyone remember how heart-wrenching last year's finale was? When Dan and Serena broke up, and it actually meant something? It was pitch perfect! Blah. Soothe yourself with this young lady's soulful and earnest cover of Death Cab's "The Ice Is Getting Thinner."
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Cool moment
It's always cool when there's an aerial coverage shot of Boston during game 7 of the Celtics-Magic series, and you suddenly realize "Wait a sec, that's my apartment!" How fun!
Memory lane
So I'm talking to my friend, who is going to Yankee Stadium to watch the Yanks play her beloved Twins tomorrow. The series so far has been decided three times by walk-offs: Melky Cabrera's single on Friday, an A-Rod homer in the 11th yesterday, and a Johnny Damon dinger this afternoon. So of course tomorrow's game will go extras.
Which reminded me of a game I went to a few years back, a 16-inning loss to the A's. What a game. On the one hand, Jeff Weaver pitched one of the best games he would ever throw as a Yankee. On the other, there were 5 errors! And I happened to be sitting behind the only Oakland fans in the whole game stadium. And then I was stuck in the South Bronx after a six-hour ballgame. But still, great game!
Which reminded me of a game I went to a few years back, a 16-inning loss to the A's. What a game. On the one hand, Jeff Weaver pitched one of the best games he would ever throw as a Yankee. On the other, there were 5 errors! And I happened to be sitting behind the only Oakland fans in the whole game stadium. And then I was stuck in the South Bronx after a six-hour ballgame. But still, great game!
Monday, May 11, 2009
There are no words
So last week ended with this bit of crushing news: the Gossip Girl spinoff had the kibosh put on it. Treasured reader, if you know me, you know how furious I was. I won't recount the poisonous stream of vitriol that issued forth when I read that news, suffice it to say, it was pure venom. The awful news was compounded by the fact that I KNEW tonight's episode, irregardless of what happens in our pathetic real world, would still be the "pilot" for the spinoff. We would get a taste, and then have it cruelly ripped away from our innocent, grasping hands.
The awful news was further compounded by the fact that tonight's episode was 100 percent, unadulterated dynamite. Here's some timestamped evidence, an IM conversation with my pal Katie:
Anyway, it was a great episode, but there were so many unanswered questions! Like, how did Lily end up with that lame blond Van Der Woodsen jerk? What could CeCe possibly have done to Lily's punk-rock boyfriend Owen? Why is Nate such a drip? (Okay, that question wouldn't be answered by any spinoff, but it's still valid!)
All seemed lost. And then, merciful providence shined upon all good GG fans. Behold. Behold, and then ask me how it's possible for me to even begin to attempt to contain my joy!
The awful news was further compounded by the fact that tonight's episode was 100 percent, unadulterated dynamite. Here's some timestamped evidence, an IM conversation with my pal Katie:
9:10 PM(That's no joke, precious reader. Even I'm amazed by how many exclamations points I used. And I LOVE exclamation points.)
Katie: what do you think of the flashbacks
Timmy: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Anyway, it was a great episode, but there were so many unanswered questions! Like, how did Lily end up with that lame blond Van Der Woodsen jerk? What could CeCe possibly have done to Lily's punk-rock boyfriend Owen? Why is Nate such a drip? (Okay, that question wouldn't be answered by any spinoff, but it's still valid!)
All seemed lost. And then, merciful providence shined upon all good GG fans. Behold. Behold, and then ask me how it's possible for me to even begin to attempt to contain my joy!
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Music is my imaginary friend: Success Stories in Music Publishing Edition
So this week's episode of the Office, "Cafe Disco," was really good. And during the final dance party, this really catchy, really boppy song was playing. I'm always on the lookout for new music, so naturally, I was anxious to find out what the name of the song was and who sang it.
The Internet is, obviously, amazing, but it's the type of thing that's become so enmeshed in our lives that we don't even realize that 15 years ago, the way we engaged the culture was completely different. If you saw a commercial or a TV show with a song you liked back then, what recourse did you possibly have? You'd have to hope that you heard it on the radio, or else you'd never hear it again. Nowadays, you can get on the ol' tubes and, although it may take a little effort, you can find that song.
Now, as I said, there are varying degrees of effort. There are some shows out there that are more in tune with young people's desire to integrate their cultural experiences. Gossip Girl, which as everyone knows is the greatest show of our time, does a fabulous job, plugging its featured artists at the end of every episode, and putting character playlists featuring music from the show on the CW website. Say what you will about how trashy a show the Real World is, but they actually put a pop-up of the song name on the screen as a song is playing. Other shows are getting there, but it's still a struggle sometimes.
To wit, this past week's episode of the Office. It seems self-evident to me that if you have an episode about music and dancing, you'd post a playlist on your website. But oh well. Good thing we've got the good denizens of the Internet to fill in the blanks. All I had to do was type "what was the song from office cafe disco" and boom, one click and I had it.
All of this is to say, my buddy works for a music publishing company out in LA, and his job, just like other guys that work for other companies all over the world, is to get songs from his company's catalog onto all manner of TV shows and movies, for the exact reason that I'm describing to you in this post: maybe some schlub will hear a song, and buy it, and then maybe get the album, and then maybe go to a show. So, whoever represents the Blam, a band that I think hasn't been together for a few years, congratulations. You earned your check.
In any case, listen to "Various Disgraces."
The Internet is, obviously, amazing, but it's the type of thing that's become so enmeshed in our lives that we don't even realize that 15 years ago, the way we engaged the culture was completely different. If you saw a commercial or a TV show with a song you liked back then, what recourse did you possibly have? You'd have to hope that you heard it on the radio, or else you'd never hear it again. Nowadays, you can get on the ol' tubes and, although it may take a little effort, you can find that song.
Now, as I said, there are varying degrees of effort. There are some shows out there that are more in tune with young people's desire to integrate their cultural experiences. Gossip Girl, which as everyone knows is the greatest show of our time, does a fabulous job, plugging its featured artists at the end of every episode, and putting character playlists featuring music from the show on the CW website. Say what you will about how trashy a show the Real World is, but they actually put a pop-up of the song name on the screen as a song is playing. Other shows are getting there, but it's still a struggle sometimes.
To wit, this past week's episode of the Office. It seems self-evident to me that if you have an episode about music and dancing, you'd post a playlist on your website. But oh well. Good thing we've got the good denizens of the Internet to fill in the blanks. All I had to do was type "what was the song from office cafe disco" and boom, one click and I had it.
All of this is to say, my buddy works for a music publishing company out in LA, and his job, just like other guys that work for other companies all over the world, is to get songs from his company's catalog onto all manner of TV shows and movies, for the exact reason that I'm describing to you in this post: maybe some schlub will hear a song, and buy it, and then maybe get the album, and then maybe go to a show. So, whoever represents the Blam, a band that I think hasn't been together for a few years, congratulations. You earned your check.
In any case, listen to "Various Disgraces."
Classic DD&U
Machine wash tepidSunday, June 10, 2007
Here’s something that I thought of today, and I’m amazed, nay, shocked that it hasn’t already been implemented by someone out there. You know how it takes something like a half hour for a laundry machine to run its course, but between 50 minutes and an hour for a dryer to do its thing.
So imagine this scenario: you roll up to the laundry room as someone is removing their clothes from the laundry machine and putting them in the dryer. Both machines start at the same time. You return a half hour later, with clean, fresh, wet clothes. But alas, you still have to wait another 20 to 30 minutes for the dryer to be done (presuming there are no other available dryers—a distinct possibility). In the meantime, your clothes are sitting in this moist, damp, out-of-the-machine limbo, getting slimy and mildewy, while you wait for the dryer to finish.
Why not make washing machines that take as long as a dryer? Yeah, it’s nice that the washer only takes a half hour, but in a lot of cases, you’re still sitting around waiting for a dryer. I’d like to see a washing machine that takes its time, maybe slows down a little on the rinse, maybe spins a few more times. I know that there are a host of other factors that come into play in the laundry room (like savages who leave their clothes in the machine long after it’s stopped running, or villains that open up your dryer but then don’t turn it back on), but I think we should try to be even-ing up the playing field as much as possible. The best and the brightest minds in the laundry industry should be on top of this.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
I know it was you, Manny. You broke my heart.
Today was an emotional roller coaster for me.
First, there was immediate anger and frustration. I paid 39 bucks for the guy in my fantasy league, and now I have to scramble to make up for his production for the next 50 games. I was furious.
Then, of course, there was my favorite part of the day: the schadenfreude. Is there any better type of freude? As a Yankee fan living in the heart of the beast here in the Hub of the Universe, the past five years have been awful. In that time, I've seen two Red Socks world championships, but even worse, I've seen my team become a collection of aging, overpaid, mercenary cheaters. It's like two ships passing in the night, except one is on its way to Tahiti, and the other is headed toward a hurricane. Even when Major League Baseball commissioned an independent study on the use of performance enhancing drugs, they picked a guy on the Red Socks payroll to conduct it (I'm looking at you, George Mitchell). Cmon!
So finally, a former Red Socks player was implicated in a performance enhancing drug scandal. I know the counter to that, precious reader: but Manny isn't a Red Sock any more! He said it was a mistake! There's no evidence of prior use! I've read a lot of articles today, and had a lot of conversations, and I have to tell you that I'm amazed at the level of credulity that's been injected (pun intended, of course) into the performance enhancing drug debate overnight. There's no evidence that A-Rod used PEDs outside of the time frame that he admitted to, but that didn't stop all manner of commentators and armchair critics from wildly speculating and throwing out all sorts of salacious rumors. Which is fine; A-Rod is a cheater, and he deserves it. But you know me, dear reader. Where I come from, if we go down, we go down together. So if you think that a highly paid, elite slugger whose physical prime started in the free-for-all pre-testing era became a first-time PED user at age 36, well, I've got a bridge in Brooklyn I'd like to sell you.
That's not the end of the story, though. When these steroids allegations first started coming out, beginning with McGwire and Sosa, you'd read a lot of old-timey types writing about feeling betrayed. These guys were heroes, after all, and we admired them and trusted that the legacy of the game was safe in their hands. After we realized that they were cheaters, and worse, that they were only the thin edge of the wedge, there was a collective (and brief) "Say it ain't so, Joe" moment. I say brief, because that betrayal that you read about turned into cynicism, and now the stock reaction from the sports punditocracy when a new name surfaces is "how can we be surprised" and "you're guilty until proven innocent." It's like that Copyrights song: when you find that your heroes are all assholes, you'll put that pedestal away.
Problem is, I never really felt betrayed. Firstly, because McGwire and Sosa and Bonds and Palmeiro never played for my team, and I never thought of myself as having allegiance to the game. I still don't. And even when it came out that Andy Pettite juiced, and Clemens, I can't say I felt like their cheating was an affront to me. And they were Yankees, so I supported them to the greatest extent possible because they were my guys.
Manny wasn't my guy. Or at least, not in the way that a Derek Jeter or a Paul O'Neill is. I like those guys because they're Yankees. I liked Manny because of who he was as a ballplayer. Manny played a kids' game like a kid. He goofed off in the outfield just like me and countless others like me goofed off in the outfield. Sometimes he admired a home run a little too long or showed up a pitcher a little too much, but is there anyone among us who wouldn't do the same if he hit a home run out of a major league ballpark? Because he was such a goofball, people accused Manny of being dumb. And maybe he is dumb. But every time I saw him out there in left field with a vacant look on his face, I imagined him looking at all the other players on the field with him and thinking "These poor bastards are taking this kids' game seriously."
I love sports, and I take them seriously, to an extent. Watching Manny play always gave me an important sense of perspective. Baseball was his job, and he was good at it, but I always got the sense that he knew he was playing a game, and being paid handsomely for it.
And of course, he played for the hated Red Socks. And he killed the Yankees more times than I care to remember. In spite of all that, I still liked him as a ballplayer. So he wasn't my guy like Jeter is my guy. But maybe that made him my guy even more, because liking Manny required something more than an allegiance to the team I was raised to like. I had something, however trivial, invested in this guy.
So at the end of that roller coaster, after the ups and downs and twists and turns, when the car jerks to that sudden stop, is the betrayal. I know that betrayal is a hyperbolic term here. Manny wasn't thinking "gee, I know Timmy will be disappointed in me if I do this, but I'm going to cheat anyway." I know. But we all want to root for guys we like, and especially guys we like because we choose to. And when you make that choice, to root for a guy whose teammates you hate, and who most other people think is an oaf at best, and it turns out that you cast your lot with a guy who's not any better than the likes of Barry Bonds or Alex Rodriguez, how else are you supposed to feel?
First, there was immediate anger and frustration. I paid 39 bucks for the guy in my fantasy league, and now I have to scramble to make up for his production for the next 50 games. I was furious.
Then, of course, there was my favorite part of the day: the schadenfreude. Is there any better type of freude? As a Yankee fan living in the heart of the beast here in the Hub of the Universe, the past five years have been awful. In that time, I've seen two Red Socks world championships, but even worse, I've seen my team become a collection of aging, overpaid, mercenary cheaters. It's like two ships passing in the night, except one is on its way to Tahiti, and the other is headed toward a hurricane. Even when Major League Baseball commissioned an independent study on the use of performance enhancing drugs, they picked a guy on the Red Socks payroll to conduct it (I'm looking at you, George Mitchell). Cmon!
So finally, a former Red Socks player was implicated in a performance enhancing drug scandal. I know the counter to that, precious reader: but Manny isn't a Red Sock any more! He said it was a mistake! There's no evidence of prior use! I've read a lot of articles today, and had a lot of conversations, and I have to tell you that I'm amazed at the level of credulity that's been injected (pun intended, of course) into the performance enhancing drug debate overnight. There's no evidence that A-Rod used PEDs outside of the time frame that he admitted to, but that didn't stop all manner of commentators and armchair critics from wildly speculating and throwing out all sorts of salacious rumors. Which is fine; A-Rod is a cheater, and he deserves it. But you know me, dear reader. Where I come from, if we go down, we go down together. So if you think that a highly paid, elite slugger whose physical prime started in the free-for-all pre-testing era became a first-time PED user at age 36, well, I've got a bridge in Brooklyn I'd like to sell you.
That's not the end of the story, though. When these steroids allegations first started coming out, beginning with McGwire and Sosa, you'd read a lot of old-timey types writing about feeling betrayed. These guys were heroes, after all, and we admired them and trusted that the legacy of the game was safe in their hands. After we realized that they were cheaters, and worse, that they were only the thin edge of the wedge, there was a collective (and brief) "Say it ain't so, Joe" moment. I say brief, because that betrayal that you read about turned into cynicism, and now the stock reaction from the sports punditocracy when a new name surfaces is "how can we be surprised" and "you're guilty until proven innocent." It's like that Copyrights song: when you find that your heroes are all assholes, you'll put that pedestal away.
Problem is, I never really felt betrayed. Firstly, because McGwire and Sosa and Bonds and Palmeiro never played for my team, and I never thought of myself as having allegiance to the game. I still don't. And even when it came out that Andy Pettite juiced, and Clemens, I can't say I felt like their cheating was an affront to me. And they were Yankees, so I supported them to the greatest extent possible because they were my guys.
Manny wasn't my guy. Or at least, not in the way that a Derek Jeter or a Paul O'Neill is. I like those guys because they're Yankees. I liked Manny because of who he was as a ballplayer. Manny played a kids' game like a kid. He goofed off in the outfield just like me and countless others like me goofed off in the outfield. Sometimes he admired a home run a little too long or showed up a pitcher a little too much, but is there anyone among us who wouldn't do the same if he hit a home run out of a major league ballpark? Because he was such a goofball, people accused Manny of being dumb. And maybe he is dumb. But every time I saw him out there in left field with a vacant look on his face, I imagined him looking at all the other players on the field with him and thinking "These poor bastards are taking this kids' game seriously."
I love sports, and I take them seriously, to an extent. Watching Manny play always gave me an important sense of perspective. Baseball was his job, and he was good at it, but I always got the sense that he knew he was playing a game, and being paid handsomely for it.
And of course, he played for the hated Red Socks. And he killed the Yankees more times than I care to remember. In spite of all that, I still liked him as a ballplayer. So he wasn't my guy like Jeter is my guy. But maybe that made him my guy even more, because liking Manny required something more than an allegiance to the team I was raised to like. I had something, however trivial, invested in this guy.
So at the end of that roller coaster, after the ups and downs and twists and turns, when the car jerks to that sudden stop, is the betrayal. I know that betrayal is a hyperbolic term here. Manny wasn't thinking "gee, I know Timmy will be disappointed in me if I do this, but I'm going to cheat anyway." I know. But we all want to root for guys we like, and especially guys we like because we choose to. And when you make that choice, to root for a guy whose teammates you hate, and who most other people think is an oaf at best, and it turns out that you cast your lot with a guy who's not any better than the likes of Barry Bonds or Alex Rodriguez, how else are you supposed to feel?
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Read this to be saddened and depressed
Has anyone seen this Wendy's commercial? Where they show the guy eating a Wendy's spicy chicken sandwich at various points in his life? I suppose if the idea of consistent goodness as portrayed by advertising is important to you, this might be an effective commercial. But if the idea of witnessing an otherwise vital young man withered by the ravages of age while holding a sandwich makes you not want to eat that particular sandwich, well, I don't know. Judge for yourself.
Music is my imaginary friend
Before I left for Savannah, I took in a concert at the new House of Blues on Landsdowne Street. I like New Found Glory, but I'm not such a huge fan that going to see one of their shows wasn't a risk: what if they played a bunch of songs that I don't know? Compounding the issue was the fact that their new album wasn't on Myspace and I wasn't about to like, actually buy it, and you can imagine my apprehension.
Turns out I had no need to be worried. The band played four of five of the new songs, which actually were pretty rocking, and then the rest of the show was pure pantheon stuff. I'm talking Hit or Miss, Something I Call Personality, Better Off Dead (Better Off Dead!), My Friends Over You. Hell, they played Glory of Love and Don't You Forget About Me from their From the Screen to the Stereo albums. It was a profoundly satisfying show.
Anyway, listen to the second song of the set, which witness will attest got me wicked pumped up.
Turns out I had no need to be worried. The band played four of five of the new songs, which actually were pretty rocking, and then the rest of the show was pure pantheon stuff. I'm talking Hit or Miss, Something I Call Personality, Better Off Dead (Better Off Dead!), My Friends Over You. Hell, they played Glory of Love and Don't You Forget About Me from their From the Screen to the Stereo albums. It was a profoundly satisfying show.
Anyway, listen to the second song of the set, which witness will attest got me wicked pumped up.
Monday, May 4, 2009
Cool thing
Here's a collection of user-generated mashups of fine art and cartoon characters. Some of them are better than others, but I thought the Wile E. Coyote/Death of Marat one was particularly fun. Here's the original for you philistines out there.
I think I'll go to Boston
So I just got back from a little four day trip to Savannah, Georgia. It's an annual thing with a couple of my buddies, and we had a tremendous time. A few notes:
# I may have said it before, but Savannah, like a few other cities, has an institution called the to-go cup. Basically, if you're leaving a bar or restaurant and you haven't finished your drink, you can just take it with you in a plastic cup. As you can probably imagine, this is awesome. And anyway, what activity, including walking around downtown, isn't made infinitely better by having a cold brew dog in your hand?
# We were at this piano bar, which was pretty fun. The playlist was mostly typical piano bar fare. But since this was the south, there was a smattering of country music, and they wound up playing my three favorite songs! "Take Me Home, Country Roads" by John Denver, "Dixieland Delight" by Alabama, and "You Never Even Called Me By My Name" by David Allan Coe. Of course, I was singing along with everybody, and my friends looked at me like I was an idiot. But it was "Dixieland Delight"!
# We went here for dinner. I got the barbecued grouper with creamy grits, and the artichoke and goat cheese fritters for an appetizer. Ooh la la creme.
All in all, a great trip. Did I miss anything while I was gone?
# I may have said it before, but Savannah, like a few other cities, has an institution called the to-go cup. Basically, if you're leaving a bar or restaurant and you haven't finished your drink, you can just take it with you in a plastic cup. As you can probably imagine, this is awesome. And anyway, what activity, including walking around downtown, isn't made infinitely better by having a cold brew dog in your hand?
# We were at this piano bar, which was pretty fun. The playlist was mostly typical piano bar fare. But since this was the south, there was a smattering of country music, and they wound up playing my three favorite songs! "Take Me Home, Country Roads" by John Denver, "Dixieland Delight" by Alabama, and "You Never Even Called Me By My Name" by David Allan Coe. Of course, I was singing along with everybody, and my friends looked at me like I was an idiot. But it was "Dixieland Delight"!
# We went here for dinner. I got the barbecued grouper with creamy grits, and the artichoke and goat cheese fritters for an appetizer. Ooh la la creme.
All in all, a great trip. Did I miss anything while I was gone?
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