we just won't be defeated

two can play this game

Some months back, Jodi began spouting off some seriously deranged opinions about dessert options.  As a last ditch effort to save face upon realizing her losing position, she created a push-poll in a weak attempt to foist her dry, nasty-ass brownies upon the pie-loving masses.  She lost.  This evening finds us at another stalemate as her flights of fancy once again conflict with the cold, hard truth of reality.  The issue at hand is suitable venues for rock concerts.  Look, Ma!  I can make a push-poll, too!

Opinion Polls & Market Research

yinz will note the results are not displayed in what's called a "brownie chart."

wild thing

I've been thinking about baseball movies lately, like I do every spring.  Baseball movies are vastly superior to the real thing because (A) they have a finite time frame - which usually makes them (B) shorter - and (C) more stuff happens.  I've been contemplating baseball movies even more than usual this year, though, because DC has been buzzing for weeks about opening day in general and the opening of a new ballpark in specific.  But Mother Nature threw the Nationals a curve ball (see what I did there? how clever!) last night with some abominably dismal weather.  It was cloudy and cold, and it probably rained - not exactly the mild and pastoral setting evoked by the phrase "the boys of summer."  I sincerely hope that none of the nearly 40,000 hapless spectators contracted pneumonia at the game last night as I enjoyed "Major League" for the seven thousandth time from the warmth and comfort of my sofa.

Major League

the breakfast club

Unlike years past, I have no extracurricular volunteer duties during this training season for my annual bike ride around Lake Tahoe.  All I have to do each week is show up and ride.  So I've skipped most of 'em.  I didn't realize there were others following my, um, training regimen.  I learned this week, though, that not only are there more like me, but the rest of the team has a name for us.  It seems I am a charter member of the 50/50 Club.  To wit: if it's less than fifty degrees or there is a greater than fifty percent chance of precipitation, your chances of finding me at a remote location early on Saturday morning are slim.

My weatherman lied to me this morning.  I can't remember the last time I have felt so betrayed.  At no time did the temperature even approach the neighborhood of fifty degrees.  The mercury has only barely hit the half-century mark even now, at the height of the afternoon.  On the other hand (as long as I am trying to get my head around different ways to perceive that broken, poison-filled glass), today's route was one of my very favorites.  I think I might have mentioned it once or twice before: the renowned 'pie ride.'  Like every other human - without exception - I love me some pie.  And it's possible I enjoyed that warm blueberry goodness even more on a chilly morning than I might have had the air been fifteen degrees warmer.  It's not likely, but I suppose it's possible.  I think I need to do this ride again in about a month just to make sure.

not guilty: wheatus

I got two tickets to Iron Maiden, baby.

Wheatus - Teenage Dirtbag

battle of the bands

This is the last one for a while.  I promise.

There has been a small, yet vocal, contingent of my neighborhood which has been fronting Rock Band as the answer to all my fake rocking out needs.  Well, aside from my previously expressed concerns, I'd like raise a practical question.  To wit: Who the hell wants to pretend to play bass?  "Yes, I aspire to anonymity.  Sign me up."  Sheesh.  Besides, I've done the research and decided that Rock Band is for those poseurs who can't hang with the real fake rockers.  The evidence is below, in this side by side comparison featuring the quote-unquote face-crushingly awesome Queens of the Stone Age.  Rock Band is for pussies.

Queens of the Stone Age - 3's and 7's

high fidelity

It's possible (read: probable) that I have been playing too much Guitar Hero recently.  Last week it was pretty much all I did other than work or sleep.  And, yeah, I worked a lot, but I don't sleep much so I still found plenty of time to shred on the plastic axe.  I've come to the conclusion that not only is Guitar Hero the greatest video game that has ever been made, but it's the greatest video game that ever will be made.  Its replay value is astronomical; even if I get to the point where I can routinely score a hundred percent on the expert level, I'll still play.  It's the first video game I've encountered - it may be the first ever - where winning is incidental.  People play, mostly, because they like playing along with songs they like.  Which, naturally, got me to thinking....

There are definitely songs that I play just because they are part of the game.  No matter how many times I play along with Pearl Jam - no matter how well I do - the game won't make me like "Even Flow."  Or "Pride and Joy."  And those discoveries of previously unknown awesome songs like "3's & 7's" - or, to a much lesser extent, "Lay Down" - are few and far between.  Obviously, the next logical step in this train of thought is that there should be a version of the game comprised of songs - and only of songs - that I want to play.

In other words, I have taken the time and effort to compile a soundtrack for the best possible version of the game (at least until GH: HR II comes out).  Naturally, in this edition, all songs would be original masters and my avatar would be available for purchase in the store for the princely sum of $50,000. (Greatness doesn't come cheap, you know.)  And naturally, in this edition, all games would be sold with a default left-handed controller with an optional setting for the "righty flip."  Yeah, it'd be inconvenient for more people than not, but fake rocking out doesn't get much more awesome than this.

TUPELO COUNTY JAIL
Jukebox Hero  Foreigner, 1981
Rhiannon  Fleetwood Mac, 1976
Varsity Jacket  Twin Cam, 2005
Bang A Gong (Get It On)  T. Rex, 1971
Encore:  Photograph  Def Leppard, 1983

...THE MEMPHIS BLUES AGAIN
Powderfinger  Neil Young and Crazy Horse, 1979
Casino Queen  Wilco, 1995
Just What I Needed  The Cars, 1978
Never Said  Liz Phair, 1993
Encore:  September Gurls  Big Star, 1974

DETROIT ROCK CITY
Jailbreak  Thin Lizzy, 1976
Run Runaway  Slade, 1983
Flathead  The Fratellis, 2007
Sound And Vision  David Bowie, 1977
Encore:  Timebomb  Old 97's, 1997

FAIRY TALE OF NEW YORK
Sidewalk  Built to Spill, 1999
Wave Of Mutilation  The Pixies, 1989
Skintight  The Donnas, 1999
Hunger Strike  Temple of the Dog, 1991
Encore:  Low  Cracker, 1993

I LOVE L.A.
Shatterday  Vendetta Red, 2003
Stay With Me  The Faces, 1971
Chips Ahoy!  The Hold Steady, 2006
Y Control  The Yeah Yeah Yeah's, 2003
Encore:  Rock And Roll Fantasy  Bad Company, 1979

LONDON CALLING
Pinball Wizard  The Who, 1969
Everyone Chooses Sides  The Wrens, 2003
My Iron Lung  Radiohead, 1994
Shoot To Thrill  AC/DC, 1980
Encore:  Keep Your Hands To Yourself  The Georgia Satellites, 1986

VIVA LAS VEGAS
Dashboard  Modest Mouse, 2007
Sick Of Myself  Matthew Sweet, 1995
(She's) Sexy + 17  The Stray Cats, 1983
Don't Look Back  Boston, 1978
Encore:  Little Guitars  Van Halen, 1982

HELLO, CLEVELAND!!!
Ball And Biscuit  The White Stripes, 2003
Layla  Derek and the Dominos, 1970
Marquee Moon  Television, 1977
Achilles Last Stand  Led Zeppelin, 1976
Encore:  Purple Rain  Prince, 1984

tip off

Two years ago our local George Mason University Patriots made the second most miraculous post-season run in all of sports.  (First, of course, is the Pittsburgh Steelers' four straight road victories to win the Super Bowl from the Wild Card slot.  Third is the so-called "miracle on ice," which would be more miraculous if anyone actually gave a shit about hockey.)  In 2006, the Patriots went to the Final Four as an eleven seed, defeating NCAA powerhouses Michigan State, North Carolina, and Connecticut  - not to mention Mid-Major wunderkinds the Wichita State Shockers - along the way.  It was about, well, the second-most inspiring thing I have ever seen.  And it's times like those that I truly feel sorry for people who are unable to find anything transcendent in sporting events.

I'll never not root for George Mason again - for the rest of my life.  They're currently down by fourteen on, this, the first day of sports' second best tournament.  There's still plenty of time...

silver lining

I don't know if you have noticed, but I am not always good at making the best of a given situation.  When life gives me lemons....  Well, I like lemons, actually.  I like things that are sour.  I also like salty things.  And things that are bitter.  I'm not so big on sweets, though.  Go figure.  Except for pie, obviously.  But I digress....

I suffered a very minor tragedy recently when my Guitar Hero save file became corrupted for reasons unbeknownst to me.  The 'Thropes had to work their way up from obscurity once again if I was to buy all those fancy guitars and pixelated spandex costumes.  I needed to slog my way through the easy level just to earn that extra cash, but I was most chagrined at having to replay the three songs I had completed on the hard setting.  Those took some effort.  I daresay I had just cause to view the glass as half-empty.

But I realized someting as I plowed my way through the beginner songs once more.  I am no longer a beginner.  I consistently hit ninety-eight or ninety-nine percent of the notes, and I've got those golden stars on seven or eight songs.  And what's more - now that I learn there is a visual representation of that elusive perfect score, I am more inclined to re-visit the easier levels at a later date.  I've found, also, they have helped me get the hang of those more advanced hammer-on and pull-off techniques I will need once I get past medium for the second time.

And the absolute best discovery in all of this is that - unlike some people - I don't experience a regression when I spend a day or two on an easier level.  I still know where that blue button is.  As long as I still have that competitive advantage when the next battle of the bands occurs (tomorrow), that's all I care about.  How about that?  Something kinda bad happened, and I am still able to find the positive spin.  Who knew?

damn near killed 'im!

I have a friend named, uh, Joey Jo-Jo... Junior... Shabadoo.  I don't discuss him all that often because he is a dreadfully boring individual.  Joey Jo-Jo is an architect, and all architects are exceedingly boring.  All they want to talk about is buildings and shit.  It makes my head hurt just thinking about it.  Anyway, Joey Jo-Jo called me up a few days ago and invited me to accompany him to an open house he had seen advertised in the local free daily.  A building he had worked on at his last job was finally nearing completion.  Despite that he hated that job more than about anything, he was still vaguely interested in seeing something he'd spent over a year and a half working on in its completed form.  I didn't have anything better to do and I couldn't think of a reasonable and plausible excuse, so I agreed to tag along.

I'll admit I was a little surprised that Joey Jo-Jo even cared.  As I mentioned, he absolutely HATED his job when he was working on this particular building.  It wasn't so much what he was working on, per se - more that he couldn't stand virtually everybody with whom he had to share an office.  But even so, he had still taken to calling his project the "Rectum Condominium."  When he finally quit, he told all but a handful of people that he was leaving on his very last day.  He had mentioned his impending departure to his project team a couple of weeks previously.  One person asked (reasonably, I might add, as Joey Jo-Jo's departure was timed to coincide with the submission of their 75% Construction Document Pricing Set) why he didn't "stay until the project was over."  As he mentioned, repeatedly, yesterday was why.

Normal construction time for a building this size - Joey Jo-Jo tells me - is eighteen months to two years.  In July of 2006, when I last drove by the site, the structure had already topped out - meaning that significant change orders had probably occurred, drawing out the construction schedule.  (I'm totally trusting Joey Jo-Jo here; I don't know anything about this crap.)  And what's more - Joey left that firm in January 2005, and the construction documents were supposedly mostly complete.  The building should have opened nearly a year ago.  If he cared enough about that former co-worker who wondered why he left before the project was "over," he told me yesterday, he'd drop by the old office just to laugh in his face.

For what it's worth, Joey was initially a little dismayed by his old project's built incarnation.  He immediately noticed - and lamented - where the money had been taken out of the building's skin after his departure.  But once he got inside, he perked up some.  It was obvious to him that the decision to focus on the interior was the right one.  "Let's face it," he told me, "How many people actually care how where they live looks from the outside?"  I have to admit, he has a point.  But I'm still glad they didn't construct that ugly-ass building on MY block.

bonnie 'prince' johnny

I was going to get to this song eventually, and today is as good a day as any.  I've been a fan of Will Oldham since the very first notes of the very first song of his that I heard.  That was back in '95, mere days before leaving college behind forever.  The Bonnie Prince recorded the best album released in 1999 and the following year, my hero Johnny Cash covered the title track for his third "American" record.  His cover of Nine Inch Nails' "Hurt" - from "American IV" - gets all the press, but this song - both cover and original - is way better.  The original Bonnie Prince backs up the Man in Black on the chorus.  Lucky!

Johnny Cash - I See a Darkness

Sorry about the obnoxious home-made video.  It was either this or a static shot of the album cover, and though the album cover is a touch more interesting, the sound was a little better in this clip.