As I sit here writing this and looking out my window at ten to one in the afternoon there is not a single flake of snow outside. Not one.
This is one of two reasons I've paid no attention to weather forecasts for a decade now. One, I can't do anything about it if nine inches of snow had decided to fall. Two, they're quacks. Panic, hysteria, paranoia and melodrama live and breathe inside the heart of every meteorologist. Why, if they were elected to office I'd wager they could ratchet up the fear so effectively that you'd actually thank them for passing a 700 billion dollar pork, er, stimilus bill. :)
Anyhow, more good news:
The Journal-Sentinel editor wrote me today to say that a piece I did on Milwaukee Public Schools will be running in tomorrows edition. I'll certainly post a link to it here, but if you live in Wisconsin or upper Illinois, kindly pick up a copy, raise their circulation, and inspire them to hire me on.
Published writer, compulsive reader, Old School Whovian, Match Game enthusiast, NKOTB fan, data hoarder, and - surprisingly, given that list - married with four kids. Welcome to my take on life, fatherhood, entertainment, and whatever strikes my fancy. Enjoy!
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Snow on the Way
Depending on who you listen to Milwaukee is expecting somewhere between 3 and 9 inches of snow tonight. That's lousy if I was planning to drive, but with my Escort still down for repairs and Lisa and I both working tomorrow I'll probably have to take the bus anyway, so no harm no foul.
* while still not road worthy, the Escort is now starting and running, thanks to some tinkering I did under the hood. And, uh, just because it decided to co-operate.
I haven't felt much like blogging lately. I've been working, spending my spare time looking for a better, full time job, and dealing with the ins and outs of everyday life. Not much time for extracurricular writing I'm afraid. I hope to watch American Idol with Lisa tonight and if I consume enough caffeine I'd love to post about it. We'll see.
* * * * *
You may feel free to 'x' out of here now, because the rest of this post will be nothing more than a catch-up piece.
* In addition to Lump's ability to acquire bumps and bruises she continues to destroy my house every time she is freed from her cage (er, playpen). I might have mentioned this before, but as an example of how she spends her time: One day I lifted her out of her crib and onto the floor. This was a second-long maneuver that covered all of five feet. In that time she grabbed a blanket off the dresser with one hand, pulling it to the floor along with everything on top of it, and with the other hand grabbed a toy and threw it against the wall.
She's not unique of course. Today at work a toddler girl knocked down an entire display, sending it crashing to the ground. The Mom was embarrassed and looked crestfallen, something compounded by the rather unprofessional reaction of a co-worker of mine.
"Eighteen month old?" I asked the mom.
"Yes," she said. "How did you know?"
"I've got one at home," I said. "Mine would've done worse."
* Smiley can now call Lump by a nickname that's promoted by my sister and despised by Lisa. For the record, it's her first syllable followed by 'eee'. He also said 'no tank ooo mom-a' at the mall yesterday, which was super!
* I have to remember to schedule a doctor's appointment for my sinuses. To quote Lisa today: "You fiddle with your nose so much people are going to start thinking you've got a coke problem."
* I've become somewhat of a fan of college basketball, and of the local Bucks. Iv'e even started DVR'ing the games I'm not home to see. This is horrific news to Lisa. "You're attractivness has seriously fallen four points. I used to love that you hated sports. I would tell people 'he's not like other boys, he reads and writes and loves politics and doesn't waste his time screaming at a TV screen. Now you're just one of 'them'."
Well, that's a bit harsh. And untrue too. I have always loved baseball, and I was a casual but competitive fan of nearly all sports. May I bring up a Packers playoff victory in the '90's? It was a lovely come from behind affair. I was so excited with the result that I screamed, picked up Lisa, and tossed her in the air - ripping her $300 dress right down the back.
How quickly we forget.
* while still not road worthy, the Escort is now starting and running, thanks to some tinkering I did under the hood. And, uh, just because it decided to co-operate.
I haven't felt much like blogging lately. I've been working, spending my spare time looking for a better, full time job, and dealing with the ins and outs of everyday life. Not much time for extracurricular writing I'm afraid. I hope to watch American Idol with Lisa tonight and if I consume enough caffeine I'd love to post about it. We'll see.
* * * * *
You may feel free to 'x' out of here now, because the rest of this post will be nothing more than a catch-up piece.
* In addition to Lump's ability to acquire bumps and bruises she continues to destroy my house every time she is freed from her cage (er, playpen). I might have mentioned this before, but as an example of how she spends her time: One day I lifted her out of her crib and onto the floor. This was a second-long maneuver that covered all of five feet. In that time she grabbed a blanket off the dresser with one hand, pulling it to the floor along with everything on top of it, and with the other hand grabbed a toy and threw it against the wall.
She's not unique of course. Today at work a toddler girl knocked down an entire display, sending it crashing to the ground. The Mom was embarrassed and looked crestfallen, something compounded by the rather unprofessional reaction of a co-worker of mine.
"Eighteen month old?" I asked the mom.
"Yes," she said. "How did you know?"
"I've got one at home," I said. "Mine would've done worse."
* Smiley can now call Lump by a nickname that's promoted by my sister and despised by Lisa. For the record, it's her first syllable followed by 'eee'. He also said 'no tank ooo mom-a' at the mall yesterday, which was super!
* I have to remember to schedule a doctor's appointment for my sinuses. To quote Lisa today: "You fiddle with your nose so much people are going to start thinking you've got a coke problem."
* I've become somewhat of a fan of college basketball, and of the local Bucks. Iv'e even started DVR'ing the games I'm not home to see. This is horrific news to Lisa. "You're attractivness has seriously fallen four points. I used to love that you hated sports. I would tell people 'he's not like other boys, he reads and writes and loves politics and doesn't waste his time screaming at a TV screen. Now you're just one of 'them'."
Well, that's a bit harsh. And untrue too. I have always loved baseball, and I was a casual but competitive fan of nearly all sports. May I bring up a Packers playoff victory in the '90's? It was a lovely come from behind affair. I was so excited with the result that I screamed, picked up Lisa, and tossed her in the air - ripping her $300 dress right down the back.
How quickly we forget.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Night of the Creeps - movie review
Happy Valentines Day folks!
I rented this from the free 'on demand' station on Time Warner Cable, and boy was I happy with the choice.
It's complete garbage of course. A little gray alien ejects an experiment gone wrong from his spacecraft as it nears Earth, despite the best efforts of his own people to stop him. This experiment is composed of little slugs that enter your mouth, kill you, lay eggs in your brain, operate you as a mindless zombie for a bit, then explode your head and spread more slugs around.
The experiment lands on Earth in 1959, just in time for the estranged girlfriend of a rookie cop to be hacked to death by a serial killer while her new beau is zombie-fied in a field and placed in cryogenic hibernation.
Cut to 1986, when our hapless dork protagonist mistakenly releases the frozen zombie onto the campus of his university as he embarks on a quest to win the heart of the sorority bombshell. With the help of his disabled smart-alecky roommate and that rookie cop from 1959, who's now a bitter detective, Dork and Beauty Queen attack the invasion head on when the sorority house is attacked by zombies.
Hee Hee.
You know why I liked this? Oh, it wasn't the mandatory-for-the-'80's pan shot of the showers in the women's locker room, although that was of course appreciated.
No, I liked it because in spite of the campy situation they played it relatively straight, and there were some bits of great dialogue. Not just the one-liners: "How bout that? Zombies, exploding heads, creepy crawlies, and a date for the Formal." but some fine character motivation and back-and-forth. I looked up the writer on IMDB.com and discovered he went on to write The Monster Squad and some episodes of Enterprise and the Stargate franchise; bits of his talent can be seen here.
Go rent it; you'll have a blast.
Friday, February 13, 2009
This Place is Death: Lost Season 5, Ep. 5
You may be asking why I didn't blog about last week's episode. The answer? What was there to write about? It was a boring example of filler, with only two items of note. The first point, the survival of Jin, is no surprise since the actor has been listed on the credits as a cast member all season, despite his character's 'death' last year.
The second, the introduction of Rousseau's group, added nothing to the show.
This week, however, for the first time all year I think Lost was back. This Place is Death was a great episode, full of action, plot twists, new mysteries, and some answers.
Let's start off the island. Sun crashes the reunion at the docks and the group scatters. Sun's rather easily convinced of Jin's health by Ben and she and Jack head off with him to see the proof.
Back to them them later. In 1988 one of Rousseau's group is picked off by the Smoke Monster and killed.
Soon enough another is captured and dragged into an underground lair near an old temple. The group attempts to save him, but in the process only cause the monster to tear off his arm to take his prey.
Jin stops Danielle from joining the rest of the group on an ill-advised attempt to rescue their comrade, and then 'flashes' forward. He 'returns' a short time later (weeks/months? certainly not longer) and finds that Danielle has killed the members of her party and is facing down her baby's father at gunpoint.
Danielle is convinced he has been changed by the 'sickness', carried and transmitted by the Monster, but her beau dismisses this by saying it isn't a monster but simply a defense system set up to protect the temple. Just when she is convinced he raises his gun to kill her but it jams - her surprise looks too genuine for her to have tampered with it - and she kills him.
This part of the episode felt rushed, almost like the writers needed to answer Questions X and Y about Danielle and used this time travel crap to get it out of the way Barring further sightings of the lass, we are left with the impression Danielle was wrong about the illness. The Monster is almost certainly impersonating one or more of the men, or they've been let in on the island's secrets and switched allegiances. I don't think anything biological is involved.
Jin then manages to rejoin the remaining, pitifully small group of Losties. After a series of quick time flashes Charlotte is stricken down, returning to lucidity to proclaim a few dire prophesies - first and foremost, a warning to Jin not to bring Sun back to the island - and then tells Daniel the truth about her past. She grew up on the island and left with her mother, who ever after claimed it was a child's fantasy. She has spent her life searching for it, and now remembers something else: as a child Daniel himself warned her not to come back, because if she did she would die.
Ok. Well and good and all that, but you do see the problem, right? Charlotte dies and in an effort to prevent it he goes back in time and warns her. Obviously it fails, because the evidence of that failure is right in front of him, from her very mouth. Therefore there is no incentive for Daniel to have ever issued the warning, because he would know from the moment it became necessary that it would fall on deaf ears. Maybe he uttered it in the past out of sheer emotion, because logically there is no reason to speak the words.
Better for them both if he told the Mom to have Charlotte attend art school and avoid the skill set needed for her return; all Daniel's done is ensure her death.
So we get to the Orchid station but it vanishes in a literal flash. Cuing off one of Charlotte's statements John begins to climb down a well nearby. First though he must promise Jin that he will not bring Sun back, and takes his ring as 'proof' of death. As he descends the well a flash brings the group forward or backward in time far enough that the well is no more, and John is believed to have perished, encased in soil.
In truth Christian Shepard/Jacob finds John in a chilly tunnel. He says the cause of the time slips are on John's shoulders. "I said you had to move the island John," he said, referencing the fact that Ben is the one who did the deed. John stammers out an explanation but it is dismissed with a quick jab at Ben. John is instructed to restore the wheel onto its axis and a light engulfs him.
Back in the real world Ben uses Jin's ring to convince Sun that she must return to the island - a brilliant use of the ring to keep the promise and yet get a polar opposite result. Desmond comes out of the shadows and more or less proves what we've guessed for awhile; Eloise Hawking is Daniel Farraday's mother.
And the quest to return to the island begins in earnest . . .
The second, the introduction of Rousseau's group, added nothing to the show.
This week, however, for the first time all year I think Lost was back. This Place is Death was a great episode, full of action, plot twists, new mysteries, and some answers.
Let's start off the island. Sun crashes the reunion at the docks and the group scatters. Sun's rather easily convinced of Jin's health by Ben and she and Jack head off with him to see the proof.
Back to them them later. In 1988 one of Rousseau's group is picked off by the Smoke Monster and killed.
Soon enough another is captured and dragged into an underground lair near an old temple. The group attempts to save him, but in the process only cause the monster to tear off his arm to take his prey. 
Jin stops Danielle from joining the rest of the group on an ill-advised attempt to rescue their comrade, and then 'flashes' forward. He 'returns' a short time later (weeks/months? certainly not longer) and finds that Danielle has killed the members of her party and is facing down her baby's father at gunpoint.
Danielle is convinced he has been changed by the 'sickness', carried and transmitted by the Monster, but her beau dismisses this by saying it isn't a monster but simply a defense system set up to protect the temple. Just when she is convinced he raises his gun to kill her but it jams - her surprise looks too genuine for her to have tampered with it - and she kills him.
This part of the episode felt rushed, almost like the writers needed to answer Questions X and Y about Danielle and used this time travel crap to get it out of the way Barring further sightings of the lass, we are left with the impression Danielle was wrong about the illness. The Monster is almost certainly impersonating one or more of the men, or they've been let in on the island's secrets and switched allegiances. I don't think anything biological is involved.
Jin then manages to rejoin the remaining, pitifully small group of Losties. After a series of quick time flashes Charlotte is stricken down, returning to lucidity to proclaim a few dire prophesies - first and foremost, a warning to Jin not to bring Sun back to the island - and then tells Daniel the truth about her past. She grew up on the island and left with her mother, who ever after claimed it was a child's fantasy. She has spent her life searching for it, and now remembers something else: as a child Daniel himself warned her not to come back, because if she did she would die.
Ok. Well and good and all that, but you do see the problem, right? Charlotte dies and in an effort to prevent it he goes back in time and warns her. Obviously it fails, because the evidence of that failure is right in front of him, from her very mouth. Therefore there is no incentive for Daniel to have ever issued the warning, because he would know from the moment it became necessary that it would fall on deaf ears. Maybe he uttered it in the past out of sheer emotion, because logically there is no reason to speak the words.
Better for them both if he told the Mom to have Charlotte attend art school and avoid the skill set needed for her return; all Daniel's done is ensure her death.
So we get to the Orchid station but it vanishes in a literal flash. Cuing off one of Charlotte's statements John begins to climb down a well nearby. First though he must promise Jin that he will not bring Sun back, and takes his ring as 'proof' of death. As he descends the well a flash brings the group forward or backward in time far enough that the well is no more, and John is believed to have perished, encased in soil.
In truth Christian Shepard/Jacob finds John in a chilly tunnel. He says the cause of the time slips are on John's shoulders. "I said you had to move the island John," he said, referencing the fact that Ben is the one who did the deed. John stammers out an explanation but it is dismissed with a quick jab at Ben. John is instructed to restore the wheel onto its axis and a light engulfs him.
Back in the real world Ben uses Jin's ring to convince Sun that she must return to the island - a brilliant use of the ring to keep the promise and yet get a polar opposite result. Desmond comes out of the shadows and more or less proves what we've guessed for awhile; Eloise Hawking is Daniel Farraday's mother.
And the quest to return to the island begins in earnest . . .
Thursday, February 12, 2009
YaYa's Funky Hat
YaYa scooped this furry Mad Hatter design from her maternal Grandma's closet and has worn it almost every day for weeks now.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Quote of the Day
Smiley came downstairs this morning with blue nail polish on his cheeks, hands, and nails. Apparently he'd raided one of his sister's rooms after bedtime last night.
"Smiley you cannot wear nail polish!" Lisa said. "Are you a boy or a girl?"
"Ba-oyyy" Smiley said, using one of his newest words.
"Then you can't wear nail polish. Boys don't wear nail polish Smiley."
He shook his head and smiled like she was slow.
"Uh-uh mama," he said, content his actions were justifiable and manly. "It ba-ooo." [blue]
"Smiley you cannot wear nail polish!" Lisa said. "Are you a boy or a girl?"
"Ba-oyyy" Smiley said, using one of his newest words.
"Then you can't wear nail polish. Boys don't wear nail polish Smiley."
He shook his head and smiled like she was slow.
"Uh-uh mama," he said, content his actions were justifiable and manly. "It ba-ooo." [blue]
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Victory Will Be Mine!
A few weeks ago, knowing my love of slippers, Lisa told me about a pair of Family Guy slippers on clearance at Target, in my size (13), for under three bucks. Naturally I ran out and got them!
If Stewie really wanted to get rid of Lois he'd buy her a pair of these, as the big, oddshapen Stewie head on the toes tends to befuddle you while walking up the stairs (no, I wasn't wearing them when I fell).
It's odd that I love slippers so much - although I tend to stick to the sedate, black old man variety - since I was so adamently opposed to them as a child. Huh. Tastes change I guess, but whatever your age you have to admit: the Stewie slippers rock!
Monday, February 9, 2009
Phelps, Weed, the Journal, and Bisquick
I'm a little annoyed today, in large part because my kids are lazy mess-makers who won't eat a good meal their Mom prepares for them, and/or hackers with poor typing skills. You can also blame part of my mood on a cover story I saw today that chastised Michael Phelps for 'letting down his fans'.
Oh, for cripes sake. How???
First of all I don't buy the 'role model' argument. I wouldn't approve of my kids idolizing Manson, Hitler or Che for any reason, but when it comes to athletes and celebrities I'd stress their accomplishments and not their personal life. By my count most brand name actors, from Drew Barrymore to Sean Penn, are high school dropouts. Admire their resume and leave it at that.
Aside from that, I'm still stumped by how a society can condone and even celebrate booze, the maker of car accidents and bar brawls, while criminalizing marijuana - something that, at worst, encourages the consumption of Doritos.
Phelps shouldn't have broken the law, no matter how archaic it is, not unless the law is the Fugitive Slave Act or its equivalent. And he should have used some discrection. (If he wasn't going to smoke alone, at least use a more subtle and less photogenic one-hitter). All the same I default to something Saturday Night Live used in a skit last week.
To paraphrase: if you're at a party getting stoned with Michael Phelps, and you take and sell a picture of him instead of just thinking "Cool! I'm at a party getting stoned with Michael Phelps!" then you sir . . .are just a DICK.
* * * *
Bisquick wrote and apologized for the fly in the batter incident with a long winded letter. It explained the science behind how it could have happened (too much info)and included two six dollar coupons for General Mills products. I'll let you know how Bisquick's new 'Heart Smart' trans and saturated fat free mix tastes - and if there are any flies involved.
* * * *
I'm a little irked at the Journal. The 18th will mark two months since my first column was published and there have been none since. It isn't a matter of low production. I've submitted several pieces over the last month alone, bringing the number on file up to five.
Nor is lousy writing to blame. Of the five one has been published, one is being 'reviewed', two have been accepted for publication, and one has been rejected. That last one, believe it or not, is the real confidence booster. If they're willing to shoot one down, then I'm confident the ones they accept are solid and well done.
[a sixth piece, a book review, was rejected citing a company policy against accepting outside reviews]
In an email to me the editor wrote the delay off as nothing but mathematical, the result of a publishing schedule making room for everyone 'in their turn' and further interrupted by holidays and the inauguration.
Horsehockey. The same week I got that email the Journal sent a polite but pleading letter to all the writers asking for everyone to submit their second piece for consideration.
If you can't pull your weight, the heck with keeping your place in line. Let it go to someone who can produce copy, be it me or someone else.
(and by that, I mean to me and me alone, naturally)
* * * * * * *
Programming note: I have some 27 posts currently done and scheduled, with an equal number existing as 'drafts'. These are mainly book and movie reviews I've been sitting on in case of an extended hiatus from Slapinions. I need every spare moment I have for the job search, so you may see some of those make the grade in the upcoming days.
Oh, for cripes sake. How???
First of all I don't buy the 'role model' argument. I wouldn't approve of my kids idolizing Manson, Hitler or Che for any reason, but when it comes to athletes and celebrities I'd stress their accomplishments and not their personal life. By my count most brand name actors, from Drew Barrymore to Sean Penn, are high school dropouts. Admire their resume and leave it at that.
Aside from that, I'm still stumped by how a society can condone and even celebrate booze, the maker of car accidents and bar brawls, while criminalizing marijuana - something that, at worst, encourages the consumption of Doritos.
Phelps shouldn't have broken the law, no matter how archaic it is, not unless the law is the Fugitive Slave Act or its equivalent. And he should have used some discrection. (If he wasn't going to smoke alone, at least use a more subtle and less photogenic one-hitter). All the same I default to something Saturday Night Live used in a skit last week.
To paraphrase: if you're at a party getting stoned with Michael Phelps, and you take and sell a picture of him instead of just thinking "Cool! I'm at a party getting stoned with Michael Phelps!" then you sir . . .are just a DICK.
* * * *
Bisquick wrote and apologized for the fly in the batter incident with a long winded letter. It explained the science behind how it could have happened (too much info)and included two six dollar coupons for General Mills products. I'll let you know how Bisquick's new 'Heart Smart' trans and saturated fat free mix tastes - and if there are any flies involved.
* * * *
I'm a little irked at the Journal. The 18th will mark two months since my first column was published and there have been none since. It isn't a matter of low production. I've submitted several pieces over the last month alone, bringing the number on file up to five.
Nor is lousy writing to blame. Of the five one has been published, one is being 'reviewed', two have been accepted for publication, and one has been rejected. That last one, believe it or not, is the real confidence booster. If they're willing to shoot one down, then I'm confident the ones they accept are solid and well done.
[a sixth piece, a book review, was rejected citing a company policy against accepting outside reviews]
In an email to me the editor wrote the delay off as nothing but mathematical, the result of a publishing schedule making room for everyone 'in their turn' and further interrupted by holidays and the inauguration.
Horsehockey. The same week I got that email the Journal sent a polite but pleading letter to all the writers asking for everyone to submit their second piece for consideration.
If you can't pull your weight, the heck with keeping your place in line. Let it go to someone who can produce copy, be it me or someone else.
(and by that, I mean to me and me alone, naturally)
* * * * * * *
Programming note: I have some 27 posts currently done and scheduled, with an equal number existing as 'drafts'. These are mainly book and movie reviews I've been sitting on in case of an extended hiatus from Slapinions. I need every spare moment I have for the job search, so you may see some of those make the grade in the upcoming days.
RE: the last post
YaYa, my seven year old, managed to hack into both my AOL and Blogger accounts via means unknown and post a request for email. I discovered it over dinner when Lisa's question of 'What was the best part of your day?" was met with "Breaking into Daddy's blog and creating a post."
Because of justified concerns for her privacy I have deleted her full email addy but left the post up for posterity. YaYa is confined to her room for the rest of the night, where I can only imagine she's working on tapping into the phone line in order to prank the Pentagon.
Because of justified concerns for her privacy I have deleted her full email addy but left the post up for posterity. YaYa is confined to her room for the rest of the night, where I can only imagine she's working on tapping into the phone line in order to prank the Pentagon.
Saturday, February 7, 2009
ARoid
It was a beautiful day here, with temperatures in the 50's and our whole clan at a family birthday party in Butler.
Unfortunately all that good will was ruined tonight,by a casual comment I overheard in a parking lot. According to Sports Illustrated, and allegedly collaborated by four sources, Yankee Alex Rodriguez tested positive for performance enhancing chemicals in his 2003 MVP season.
Rationally, I am outraged by the leak. The 2003 tests were done under unconditional anonymity so MLB could assess the extent of the problem. For the results to be leaked wholesale to the public is a breach of contractual obligations and a clear violation of the civil rights of the players. Saying 'oh, well, it's out now' is bunk - it should never have seen the light of day, and whoever leaked it should face the appropriate penalties.
That's what my mind is saying. Meanwhile, my heart is broken.
ARod is my favorite current-era player. When Smiley was only a few months old I took him to see Rodriguez at Miller Parker, and he honored my boy by hitting his 399th and 400th home runs that day. I don't care if he is a flake, or emotionally fragile, if he likes masculine women or is a grand person or a bum; I admired his talent, his God given over abundance of talent.
To see his name on that list is devastating.
One, he didn't need steroids. He's been a prized hitter since he was a teen, and was named Baseball America's top something or another in high school. For him to resort to 'roids is just another sign of his emotional vulnerability, his yearning for acceptance and to be 'one of the boys'. It's sad. Pathetic even.
Two, the implications for MLB are monumental. Yes, the results were confidential, and presumably Arod has tested clean (and posted mammoth numbers) in the years since the test in question. But from this point on there can be no doubt - this entire era, from the early '90's until the midpoint of this decade, is an ethical quagmire. Sure, Bonds was the poster child for this issue, but did you ever truly doubt he was doped? I doubt it. Now, everyone is a suspect. Who's clean, and who just hasn't been caught? Who's numbers are 'real' and who's are inflated? What records are sacrosanct, and which are frauds?
We'll never know.
Oh, in time other issues in the sport will eclipse this, and perhaps steroids will be so commonplace or insignificant as to no longer warrant our attention. What's a little injection of growth hormone in 2030 when you can slide down to Tijuana and have your DNA beefed up to quicken your reflexes?
But for now, the sport is tainted. I don't want this to be pro-wrestling, where you look around constantly and wonder where the fix will come in.
Sadly I think that's what it's come down to today, and it's a lousy shame.
Unfortunately all that good will was ruined tonight,by a casual comment I overheard in a parking lot. According to Sports Illustrated, and allegedly collaborated by four sources, Yankee Alex Rodriguez tested positive for performance enhancing chemicals in his 2003 MVP season.
Rationally, I am outraged by the leak. The 2003 tests were done under unconditional anonymity so MLB could assess the extent of the problem. For the results to be leaked wholesale to the public is a breach of contractual obligations and a clear violation of the civil rights of the players. Saying 'oh, well, it's out now' is bunk - it should never have seen the light of day, and whoever leaked it should face the appropriate penalties.
That's what my mind is saying. Meanwhile, my heart is broken.
ARod is my favorite current-era player. When Smiley was only a few months old I took him to see Rodriguez at Miller Parker, and he honored my boy by hitting his 399th and 400th home runs that day. I don't care if he is a flake, or emotionally fragile, if he likes masculine women or is a grand person or a bum; I admired his talent, his God given over abundance of talent.
To see his name on that list is devastating.
One, he didn't need steroids. He's been a prized hitter since he was a teen, and was named Baseball America's top something or another in high school. For him to resort to 'roids is just another sign of his emotional vulnerability, his yearning for acceptance and to be 'one of the boys'. It's sad. Pathetic even.
Two, the implications for MLB are monumental. Yes, the results were confidential, and presumably Arod has tested clean (and posted mammoth numbers) in the years since the test in question. But from this point on there can be no doubt - this entire era, from the early '90's until the midpoint of this decade, is an ethical quagmire. Sure, Bonds was the poster child for this issue, but did you ever truly doubt he was doped? I doubt it. Now, everyone is a suspect. Who's clean, and who just hasn't been caught? Who's numbers are 'real' and who's are inflated? What records are sacrosanct, and which are frauds?
We'll never know.
Oh, in time other issues in the sport will eclipse this, and perhaps steroids will be so commonplace or insignificant as to no longer warrant our attention. What's a little injection of growth hormone in 2030 when you can slide down to Tijuana and have your DNA beefed up to quicken your reflexes?
But for now, the sport is tainted. I don't want this to be pro-wrestling, where you look around constantly and wonder where the fix will come in.
Sadly I think that's what it's come down to today, and it's a lousy shame.
Back online for now
Let's start with two quotes I love.
"Outside of a dog, a book is your best friend. Inside of a dog, it's too dark to read. " Groucho Marx
and
"Hearing nuns' confessions is like being stoned to death with popcorn."
Bishop Fulton J. Sheen
God Bless YaYa's Godfather. How grand it is to have a buddy who's an IT tech. The desktop is still presumed KIA but now our backup is up and online, due solely to a five minute phone conversation with the man. Thanks!
RE: my falls. The one at their school was out of my hands, solely the result of an ice patch under a dusting of snow. I took a step and did a banana-peel move. Ouch. I could sue, but crap it's Wisconsin. Good luck clearing out every patch of ice on a parking lot.
The fall at home goes back to 1892. You might recall that as the year our house was built, and up until the time we bought it in 2006 the second story was an unfinished attic. Now there's four bedrooms and a hallway up there, but we still have the same narrow steps with a sharp turn midway up and no landing. They weren't built for daily use, and they sure as heck weren't built for a size 13 shoe.
Come the theoretical 'someday', we'll get around to gutting and replacing them.
The kids stayed home from school today, LuLu with a fever and YaYa with a stomachache that was bad enough for her to come and wake me at 4:16 in the morning. After an hour of pain and tears, some Pepto, and a trip to the bathroom she was good to go, but with only a half day of school scheduled I played it safe and called them in.
That absence cost them both a free Bucks ticket for perfect attendance in February. It can't be helped, but the lousy part is the "yoo-rah-rah here's your incentive to come to school!" flyer wasn't sent home until the fourth of the month. Great planning.
We had planned to see the premiere of Coraline today, but that was scrapped by time constraints and the fact that a matinee was $9 a person. WTF????? I'm sorry, as a wannabe writer I'm all for intellectual property, but if you charge that for a noon showing you deserve to have some schmoe bootleg your movie.
Instead Lisa and I took the kids out for a cheap fish fry (ah, the joys of payday!). Suprisingly, they were well behaved. LuLu as usual paid meticuous attention to the coloring sheet they gave her and asked for my help, while YaYa and Lisa worked on a word find. Come to think of it, I don't think the kids called each other names or even swung a fist THE WHOLE MEAL!It was as miraculous as the Last Supper.
[I saw Marquette's loss tonight. Depressing]
That's it. There's really no reason for this rambling post, except that I sorely missed being online for the past 36 hours :)
"Outside of a dog, a book is your best friend. Inside of a dog, it's too dark to read. " Groucho Marx
and
"Hearing nuns' confessions is like being stoned to death with popcorn."
Bishop Fulton J. Sheen
God Bless YaYa's Godfather. How grand it is to have a buddy who's an IT tech. The desktop is still presumed KIA but now our backup is up and online, due solely to a five minute phone conversation with the man. Thanks!
RE: my falls. The one at their school was out of my hands, solely the result of an ice patch under a dusting of snow. I took a step and did a banana-peel move. Ouch. I could sue, but crap it's Wisconsin. Good luck clearing out every patch of ice on a parking lot.
The fall at home goes back to 1892. You might recall that as the year our house was built, and up until the time we bought it in 2006 the second story was an unfinished attic. Now there's four bedrooms and a hallway up there, but we still have the same narrow steps with a sharp turn midway up and no landing. They weren't built for daily use, and they sure as heck weren't built for a size 13 shoe.
Come the theoretical 'someday', we'll get around to gutting and replacing them.
The kids stayed home from school today, LuLu with a fever and YaYa with a stomachache that was bad enough for her to come and wake me at 4:16 in the morning. After an hour of pain and tears, some Pepto, and a trip to the bathroom she was good to go, but with only a half day of school scheduled I played it safe and called them in.
That absence cost them both a free Bucks ticket for perfect attendance in February. It can't be helped, but the lousy part is the "yoo-rah-rah here's your incentive to come to school!" flyer wasn't sent home until the fourth of the month. Great planning.
We had planned to see the premiere of Coraline today, but that was scrapped by time constraints and the fact that a matinee was $9 a person. WTF????? I'm sorry, as a wannabe writer I'm all for intellectual property, but if you charge that for a noon showing you deserve to have some schmoe bootleg your movie.
Instead Lisa and I took the kids out for a cheap fish fry (ah, the joys of payday!). Suprisingly, they were well behaved. LuLu as usual paid meticuous attention to the coloring sheet they gave her and asked for my help, while YaYa and Lisa worked on a word find. Come to think of it, I don't think the kids called each other names or even swung a fist THE WHOLE MEAL!It was as miraculous as the Last Supper.
[I saw Marquette's loss tonight. Depressing]
That's it. There's really no reason for this rambling post, except that I sorely missed being online for the past 36 hours :)
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Just an update
My desktop crashed - I think for the last time - and so my online access is limited. We'll have to see.
Meanwhile, to answer some questions posted in the comments section:
Here's a link to those official coroner and government reports on the Holly crash. The gravestone shots are from the web; I haven't had a chance to visit them all, and of the bunch I'll probably only make the trip for Buddy, to be honest.
I am working. That seasonal job, to my great surprise, liked me and kept me on. The hours aren't great, given the economy, but it is a nice sign that while shifts are cut left and right I'm in the mix at all. A search for a job equal (in pay) to my old one continue with new daily vigor, but as you all know from 4+ years here I don't care to discuss my job online.
What else . . well I fell twice in recent days. Once on ice while picking LuLu up from school, and once down the stairs at the house. Mark my words, if we live here forty years those stairs will eventually seal my doom. And in case you're wondering, no matter how minor the fall, 350# does not defy gravity without paying a dire price, in this case some bruises and a cut across my butt.
I'm now DVR'ing this season of American Idol. Expect weekly posts about that, and remember to check out the TWO MILWAUKEE CONTESTANTS. Danny - the guy who lost his wife - and his buddy are both from this here town. Lisa thinks she knows Danny from somewhere, and said so before we even knew he was from Milwaukee. Who knows? Maye we know the next American Idol!
While we're talking TV, I mentioned this on Beth's site, but for the record: the episode of The Office that aired after the SuperBowl was hilarious, and I wet myself twice watching it. Classic.
And that SuperBowl MVP is B.S. Yeah, Holmes made that final catch. Whoo-hoo. It should have gone to Harrison for his 100 yard interception return. That's a minimum of a ten point swingaround (denying Arizona at least three points and gaining seven) in a game decided by four points. Hellllllooooo?
[Duke-Clemson was a slaughter. A 27 point loss for Coach K? Ugh. Sad to watch for this part-time, casual Blue Devil fan]
Ok, that's all for now. I hope to write again soon.
Meanwhile, to answer some questions posted in the comments section:
Here's a link to those official coroner and government reports on the Holly crash. The gravestone shots are from the web; I haven't had a chance to visit them all, and of the bunch I'll probably only make the trip for Buddy, to be honest.
I am working. That seasonal job, to my great surprise, liked me and kept me on. The hours aren't great, given the economy, but it is a nice sign that while shifts are cut left and right I'm in the mix at all. A search for a job equal (in pay) to my old one continue with new daily vigor, but as you all know from 4+ years here I don't care to discuss my job online.
What else . . well I fell twice in recent days. Once on ice while picking LuLu up from school, and once down the stairs at the house. Mark my words, if we live here forty years those stairs will eventually seal my doom. And in case you're wondering, no matter how minor the fall, 350# does not defy gravity without paying a dire price, in this case some bruises and a cut across my butt.
I'm now DVR'ing this season of American Idol. Expect weekly posts about that, and remember to check out the TWO MILWAUKEE CONTESTANTS. Danny - the guy who lost his wife - and his buddy are both from this here town. Lisa thinks she knows Danny from somewhere, and said so before we even knew he was from Milwaukee. Who knows? Maye we know the next American Idol!
While we're talking TV, I mentioned this on Beth's site, but for the record: the episode of The Office that aired after the SuperBowl was hilarious, and I wet myself twice watching it. Classic.
And that SuperBowl MVP is B.S. Yeah, Holmes made that final catch. Whoo-hoo. It should have gone to Harrison for his 100 yard interception return. That's a minimum of a ten point swingaround (denying Arizona at least three points and gaining seven) in a game decided by four points. Hellllllooooo?
[Duke-Clemson was a slaughter. A 27 point loss for Coach K? Ugh. Sad to watch for this part-time, casual Blue Devil fan]
Ok, that's all for now. I hope to write again soon.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Buddy discusses the dangers of flying
In 1958 Buddy did a very short interview with Alan Freed. Freed was a huge name in rock at the time, a DJ who did more to promote the music than just about anyone else. His fame was cut short when he was implicated in the payola scandals of the late '50's (DJ's were accepting bribes to play a record and act as if it was aired as part of a normal rotation. This would make the record appear more popular then it was, building a false momentum on the charts which in theory fed real interest. They can legally accept money for such acts, but it must be disclosed to the public )
Dick Clark was nearly undone by Payola too, but survived by selling his stake in a record company and 'co-operating' with the authorites.
Freed and Holly appear to be on very friendly terms and discuss some misadventures they've had while flying to gigs and joke about the dangers involved. In retrospect it seems an eerie foretelling, but let's get real; you and I could joke today about the dangers of driving on the highway, but if you (not me Mister) die on I-70 tomorrow we were no more psychic than you were lucky.
Dick Clark was nearly undone by Payola too, but survived by selling his stake in a record company and 'co-operating' with the authorites.
Freed and Holly appear to be on very friendly terms and discuss some misadventures they've had while flying to gigs and joke about the dangers involved. In retrospect it seems an eerie foretelling, but let's get real; you and I could joke today about the dangers of driving on the highway, but if you (not me Mister) die on I-70 tomorrow we were no more psychic than you were lucky.
Vancouver Interview - October 23, 1957
Some interesting points from this short interview in late 1957. One, Buddy is asked how long he thinks the genre of rock 'n roll will last. His answer? Only about six or seven more months. He is asked if he'd quit if that was the case or ride the next big thing, and he cheerfully responds that he'd change his style. As an explanation, he says he prefers quiter music anyway. He also states a preference for 'Oh Boy!' (about to be released at the time of the interview) over 'That'll Be the Day'.
Some people have said that Buddy misunderstood the question about rock 'n roll, but I disagree. The answer as it stands was consistent with the question and he doesn't seem confused. Maybe he was having a 'down' day, maybe he was in a bad mood, maybe he really feared for the future of rock 'n roll. Who knows?
As far as the preference for 'Oh Boy!', it may be true or it may just be a case of selling the latest release to the press.
I also think his preference for quieter music is not, necessarily, an indicator that Buddy would have abandoned rock had he lived.
Some people have said that Buddy misunderstood the question about rock 'n roll, but I disagree. The answer as it stands was consistent with the question and he doesn't seem confused. Maybe he was having a 'down' day, maybe he was in a bad mood, maybe he really feared for the future of rock 'n roll. Who knows?
As far as the preference for 'Oh Boy!', it may be true or it may just be a case of selling the latest release to the press.
I also think his preference for quieter music is not, necessarily, an indicator that Buddy would have abandoned rock had he lived.
My Autobiography by Buddy Holly
This is the complete text of an assignment Holly wrote for his sophomore English course in the spring of 1953. He was 17 (?) at the time, which seems a bit old for a sophomore. Then again he writes of starting school at age seven, which itself is a little long in the tooth for the here-and-now.
Note Buddy's snarkiness and self-deprecating humor. That fits in nicely in 2009 but I doubt they were standard or appreciated qualities in the 1950's.
I also love the last line "that's my life to the present date, and even though it may seem awful and full of calamities, I'd sure be in a bad shape without it"
* * * *
I was born one fall day, a certain particular one, because it was Sept. 7, 1936 and school for that year was starting. It also the first Monday of the month and Dollar Day, and also Labor Day, so you see, it was very eventful in more ways than one. Mr. and Mrs. L.O. Holley were the happy parents of this bouncing, baby boy, or so I'm told, because I was a little young then to be remembering it now.
My life has been what you might call an uneventful one, and it seems there is not much of interest to tell. I was born here in Lubbock and except for a year and a half when I moved to the Roosevelt School District, I have lived here all my life so far. I don't remember too much of this period of my life up until the time I started to go to school at Roscoe Wilson when I was seven. Since then I remember most of the more important events of my school days.
It was during the 4th grade that I moved to Roosevelt and continued to school there until I finished the 6th grade. I then moved back to the Lubbock School Dist. and started to Junior High School at J.T. HUTCHINSON. It was great to be back among my old grade school friends and everything clicked right off. It was really a joy to me to become a westerner of Lubbock Senior High School.
Little did I know what the last nine weeks of my sophomore year held in store for me. This will make the second time I have given my English theme for my test; I got kicked out of Plane Geometry class in the last week of school; I am behind with my Biology work and will probably fail every course I'm taking. At least that's the way I feel. But why quit there? I may as well go ahead and tell all. My father's out of town on a fishing trip, and he is really going to be proud of my latest accomplishments when he gets back.
As of now, I have these on the list.
When I was driving our pickup Sunday afternoon against a hard wind, the hood came unfastened and blew up and now it's bent so that it won't fasten down good. Before I got home, I stopped at a boy's house and he knocked a baseball in to the front glass, shattering it all over me. As if that wasn't enough, I had n appointment to apply for a job with a drafting firm yesterday afternoon and when my mother came after me, she let me drive on towards town. I had brought a picture of the choir and she was looking at it. She asked where I was, and I pointed to my picture. Just as I looked back up we hit the back of a Chrysler and tore the front end of our car up. So you see, I hope my father gets to catching so many fish that he will forget to come back for a little while.
Well, that's enough of bad things for a while. I have many hobbies. Some of these are hunting, fishing, leatherwork, reading, painting and playing western music. I have thought about making a carer out of western music if I am good enough but I will just have to wait to see how that turns out. I like drafting and have thought a lot about making it my life's owrk, but I guess everything will just have to wait and turn out for the best.
Well, that's my life to the present date, and even though it may seem awful and full of calamities, I'd sure be in a bad shape without it.
FINIS
FINALE
In other words,
THE END
Thanks to Lisa for typing in the copy!
Note Buddy's snarkiness and self-deprecating humor. That fits in nicely in 2009 but I doubt they were standard or appreciated qualities in the 1950's.
I also love the last line "that's my life to the present date, and even though it may seem awful and full of calamities, I'd sure be in a bad shape without it"
* * * *
I was born one fall day, a certain particular one, because it was Sept. 7, 1936 and school for that year was starting. It also the first Monday of the month and Dollar Day, and also Labor Day, so you see, it was very eventful in more ways than one. Mr. and Mrs. L.O. Holley were the happy parents of this bouncing, baby boy, or so I'm told, because I was a little young then to be remembering it now.
My life has been what you might call an uneventful one, and it seems there is not much of interest to tell. I was born here in Lubbock and except for a year and a half when I moved to the Roosevelt School District, I have lived here all my life so far. I don't remember too much of this period of my life up until the time I started to go to school at Roscoe Wilson when I was seven. Since then I remember most of the more important events of my school days.
It was during the 4th grade that I moved to Roosevelt and continued to school there until I finished the 6th grade. I then moved back to the Lubbock School Dist. and started to Junior High School at J.T. HUTCHINSON. It was great to be back among my old grade school friends and everything clicked right off. It was really a joy to me to become a westerner of Lubbock Senior High School.
Little did I know what the last nine weeks of my sophomore year held in store for me. This will make the second time I have given my English theme for my test; I got kicked out of Plane Geometry class in the last week of school; I am behind with my Biology work and will probably fail every course I'm taking. At least that's the way I feel. But why quit there? I may as well go ahead and tell all. My father's out of town on a fishing trip, and he is really going to be proud of my latest accomplishments when he gets back.
As of now, I have these on the list.
When I was driving our pickup Sunday afternoon against a hard wind, the hood came unfastened and blew up and now it's bent so that it won't fasten down good. Before I got home, I stopped at a boy's house and he knocked a baseball in to the front glass, shattering it all over me. As if that wasn't enough, I had n appointment to apply for a job with a drafting firm yesterday afternoon and when my mother came after me, she let me drive on towards town. I had brought a picture of the choir and she was looking at it. She asked where I was, and I pointed to my picture. Just as I looked back up we hit the back of a Chrysler and tore the front end of our car up. So you see, I hope my father gets to catching so many fish that he will forget to come back for a little while.
Well, that's enough of bad things for a while. I have many hobbies. Some of these are hunting, fishing, leatherwork, reading, painting and playing western music. I have thought about making a carer out of western music if I am good enough but I will just have to wait to see how that turns out. I like drafting and have thought a lot about making it my life's owrk, but I guess everything will just have to wait and turn out for the best.
Well, that's my life to the present date, and even though it may seem awful and full of calamities, I'd sure be in a bad shape without it.
FINIS
FINALE
In other words,
THE END
Thanks to Lisa for typing in the copy!
A phone call from Feb 28th, 1957
Here's a grand piece of history. In 1956 The Crickets were signed by Decca Records. Buddy clashed with the producers, who wanted to pigeonhole the group into a country-western sound. Without any fanfare the company refused to renew their contract, and on the last day of February 1957 Buddy placed this call to Paul Cohen of Decca.
A few things to note while listening: Buddy's obviously being given the run-around here. But throughout the six minute call he buries his temper and keeps his cool. He displays a very civil and courteous attitude, even when Cohen tactlessly tells him that if another record company wants to 'waste their money' on him, that was their problem.
Later that year Buddy was signed to another label willing to 'waste their money' on him. The Crickets released 'That'll Be the Day' and he was on his way to superstardom.
A few things to note while listening: Buddy's obviously being given the run-around here. But throughout the six minute call he buries his temper and keeps his cool. He displays a very civil and courteous attitude, even when Cohen tactlessly tells him that if another record company wants to 'waste their money' on him, that was their problem.
Later that year Buddy was signed to another label willing to 'waste their money' on him. The Crickets released 'That'll Be the Day' and he was on his way to superstardom.
'Two Timin' Woman' - by (a 13 year old) Buddy Holly
Here's a rare song by a twelve or thirteen year old Charles Hardin Holley, later better known as Buddy Holly. It was recorded in their family home at 3315 36th Street in Lubbock, Texas sometime in 1949. His voice at the time hadn't changed yet, and the vocals can be mistaken for those of a girl.
His guitar playing is far from childish though; check out the solo between 1:09 and 1:30 in the song.
(The video says he's 13 or 14 at the time, but I've double checked the recording date, and he was born 09/07/36, putting him at 12 or 13 here. )
His guitar playing is far from childish though; check out the solo between 1:09 and 1:30 in the song.
(The video says he's 13 or 14 at the time, but I've double checked the recording date, and he was born 09/07/36, putting him at 12 or 13 here. )
Fair Warning: Today will be all Buddy Holly on Slapinions
At 1:05 in the morning today, a crowd of fans stood on the Holly crash site - still a working farm field - and sang American Pie.
At the same time in Milwaukee, in an equally corny move, yours truly put on my coat and stepped onto my front porch. I raised a drink to the northwest sky, took a pull, and then poured a little to the ground. I said a quick prayer, wished their spirits well, and darted inside.
Yes, it was silly. Sue me.
I watched some of the events online from the Surf Ballroom, and I was mighty nervous when word came that the rumor mill said Clapton, Springsteen, Dylan, or McCartney would show. It would've been hard to swallow missing them, but in the end it was just empty rumor. Plenty of name acts showed, but no upper-tier superstars.
If you have a mind to, check out the Des Moines Register's spectacular barrage of coverage of the anniversary. There are interviews with personalities related to the crash, video of the event, official documents related to the crash, dowloadable posters, music and more. It is MIGHTY impressive.
I learned several things I hadn't known. Plane owner Jerry Dwyer was sued for 1.5 million (a huge sum in 1959) by Ritchie Valens mom but won the case. In fear of future lawsuits he kept the wreckage, and he still has the plane in storage somewhere. My God what a coup for a museum if he'd ever release it!
Dwyer came off as a bit of a conspiracy nut in his interview. He wouldn't discuss some things, mentioned cryptic 'truths' he knows but won't tell, etc. I get the impression that even 50 years later he's still trying to absolve his conscience. I can only assume the 'truth' he hinted at is the ridiculous notion that the pilot was shot in a scuffle aboard the plane. It's been refuted a million times, but America loves a conspiracy.
Sadly the Big Bopper's son, who wasn't born until two months after the crash, bought into some of those rumours and had his father exhumed two years ago. There's a very thorough article on the Des Moines site by the forensic scientist who did the deed. The Bopper was not shot, nor did he try to crawl away to safety. His body structure was destroyed by the impact, a fact hidden by what the article's author called stunning work by the undertaker. His face and haircut were instantly recognizable even after 48 years in the ground - this despite the fact that there were no bones left to hold up the face. He was given a new casket and reburied.
Get this: despite the fact that the original coffin carried an odor so bad the funeral home would not allow it inside during the exhumation, the casket is being PUT UP FOR SALE ON EBAY by the Bopper's son. I . . don't understand the thought process behind that.
The coroner's reports on the bodies revealed some gruesome truths, including massive damage to Valen's head. I won't go into it here, but all the reports are fascinating reading.
They've finally gotten around to putting a maker at the crash site honoring the pilot. About time.
Something I did know but had forgotten: Waylong Jennings last words to Buddy after the concert was a mocking 'Well I hope your old plane crashes'. Those words, spoken innocently, would haunt Jennings for years and escalate his addictions.
Anyway, check out the site, and be prepared for a slew of music posts here today.
Rave on!
At the same time in Milwaukee, in an equally corny move, yours truly put on my coat and stepped onto my front porch. I raised a drink to the northwest sky, took a pull, and then poured a little to the ground. I said a quick prayer, wished their spirits well, and darted inside.
Yes, it was silly. Sue me.
I watched some of the events online from the Surf Ballroom, and I was mighty nervous when word came that the rumor mill said Clapton, Springsteen, Dylan, or McCartney would show. It would've been hard to swallow missing them, but in the end it was just empty rumor. Plenty of name acts showed, but no upper-tier superstars.
If you have a mind to, check out the Des Moines Register's spectacular barrage of coverage of the anniversary. There are interviews with personalities related to the crash, video of the event, official documents related to the crash, dowloadable posters, music and more. It is MIGHTY impressive.
I learned several things I hadn't known. Plane owner Jerry Dwyer was sued for 1.5 million (a huge sum in 1959) by Ritchie Valens mom but won the case. In fear of future lawsuits he kept the wreckage, and he still has the plane in storage somewhere. My God what a coup for a museum if he'd ever release it!
Dwyer came off as a bit of a conspiracy nut in his interview. He wouldn't discuss some things, mentioned cryptic 'truths' he knows but won't tell, etc. I get the impression that even 50 years later he's still trying to absolve his conscience. I can only assume the 'truth' he hinted at is the ridiculous notion that the pilot was shot in a scuffle aboard the plane. It's been refuted a million times, but America loves a conspiracy.
Sadly the Big Bopper's son, who wasn't born until two months after the crash, bought into some of those rumours and had his father exhumed two years ago. There's a very thorough article on the Des Moines site by the forensic scientist who did the deed. The Bopper was not shot, nor did he try to crawl away to safety. His body structure was destroyed by the impact, a fact hidden by what the article's author called stunning work by the undertaker. His face and haircut were instantly recognizable even after 48 years in the ground - this despite the fact that there were no bones left to hold up the face. He was given a new casket and reburied.
Get this: despite the fact that the original coffin carried an odor so bad the funeral home would not allow it inside during the exhumation, the casket is being PUT UP FOR SALE ON EBAY by the Bopper's son. I . . don't understand the thought process behind that.
The coroner's reports on the bodies revealed some gruesome truths, including massive damage to Valen's head. I won't go into it here, but all the reports are fascinating reading.
They've finally gotten around to putting a maker at the crash site honoring the pilot. About time.
Something I did know but had forgotten: Waylong Jennings last words to Buddy after the concert was a mocking 'Well I hope your old plane crashes'. Those words, spoken innocently, would haunt Jennings for years and escalate his addictions.
Anyway, check out the site, and be prepared for a slew of music posts here today.
Rave on!
Remember
A long, long time ago...
I can still remember
How that music used to make me smile.
And I knew if I had my chance
That I could make those people dance
And, maybe, they'd be happy for a while.
But February made me shiver
With every paper I'd deliver.
Bad news on the doorstep;
I couldn't take one more step.
I can't remember if I cried
When I read about his widowed bride,
But something touched me deep inside
The day the music died
- American Pie by Don McLean.
At around 1:05 AM on the morning of February 3rd, 1959 - fifty years ago nearly to the moment - a plane carrying four men crashed in a dark Iowa cornfield. No one saw or heard the crash, and it did not make front page news in many cities. I doubt anyone at the time, even the families involved, realized that people fifty years later would mourn the losses of that day.
CHARLES HARDIN HOLLEY, AKA BUDDY HOLLY, AGE 22
RICHARD STEVEN VALENZUELA AKA RITCHIE VALENS, AGE 17
J.P. RICHARDSON, AKA THE BIG BOPPER, AGE 28
(PILOT) ROGER PETERSON, AGE 21
Rest in peace gentlemen. Your music lives on.
Monday, February 2, 2009
50 Winters Later in Clear Lake Iowa
It was probably a bad time to pick a fight with Springsteen fans, coming as it does on the eve of a slew of Buddy Holly posts. I still say 'relevant today' is a vastly different beast than 'influential'.
Enough of that tho'. For what it's worth, I wouldn't choose (a living) Buddy to do the halftime show either, and Springsteen is a Holly fan, which means he has some good qualities ;) Says the Boss: "I play Buddy Holly every night before I go on. It keeps me honest!"
I should be in Iowa right now, preparing to celebrate the event with a massive tribute concert at the Surf Ballroom, where Ritchie Valens, the Big Bopper, and Buddy played their last concert.
I have tickets, rather pricy ones at that, but given my current financial climate I just couldn't pull the trigger on the trip. [My efforts to resell them fell short]. I'd been hoping for a bigger paycheck to make up the difference, but it came a week too late. There were many 'wounded in action' items after my lay-off; this is the first confirmed KIA.
Scheduled to appear at the concert:
Tommy Allsup
Big Bopper JR
The Crickets
Pat DiNizio of the Smithereens
Joe Ely
Wanda Jackson
Los Lobos
Los Lonely Boys
Delbert McClinton
Chris Montez
Cousin Brucie Morrow
Graham Nash
Peter & Gordon
Sir Tim Rice
Bobby Vee
I'm trying to look on the bright side. I'm not out a few hundred, I'm saving a few hundred by not tacking on the cost of the trip. Yeah, that's it. I'm saving money.
Besides, the Escort is down with an unknown engine problem, and with the van as our only vehicle I don't care to risk it on a 12 hour rountrip to Iowa in the middle of winter. What if it breaks down? What if it has a flat? I can't afford those repairs on top of the gas/wear and tear/food/lodging.
Fuggetaboutit.
So . . .a few tears, some Buddy playing on the computer, and some plans of a summer trip to Clear Lake brewing in my head.
[sidenote: right now I'm listening to the guitar solo on Buddy's version of Chuck Berry's Brown Eyed Handsome Man. It is a thing of beauty.]
Lost: Season 5, Episode 2: 'Jughead'
Thanks for signing up Sarah. Cute pic :) Now get your sister to join :)
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A reader asked me this week if there's been a season or two of Lost that I didn't like. I have my favorites sure, but the answer is 'no'. Some seasons are more cerebral and mysterious, while some are action-oriented and designed to move the story arc forward. Overall, it's been a pleasant mix of the two.
As far as this season goes, I'm not overjoyed but for now, still thoroughly entertained. I will say this: I find it very awkward that the show has abandoned its trademark and highly effective format. You know what I'm talking about; the events of the 'present', intercut with flashbacks to the the character's past that explain their current actions and [hopefully]deepen our attachment to them. This season it's pgone. Oh, they still jump around in time, but now it's just a plain jane attempt to track the ridiculous 'time travel' storyline.
This week, in the real world, Desmond and Penny have a son. Three years later he 'remembers' Daniel's plea and sets out to find Farraday's mother. I have a theory on this: the memory did not exist until that moment, which I imagine coincides with Daniel venturing back in time to make the request. That's absolute bunk of course. If he changed the past then it immediately becomes part of Desmond's continuity, and he should have retained the memory through the whole shebang. Heck, it should also have a) proven to him that the 'plague' was a lie, since Daniel was seen sans hazmat suit and b) helped him retain his sanity as he knows there will be a time when he is off the island again.
Anyhow, he wanders around and finds Daniel's lab dismantled and Farraday held in contempt for his experiments, which have apparently incapacitated a woman (she actually appears to have the time travel sickness seen both last season and with Charlotte this year). Cue a meeting with Widmore and a parting shot where it's evident he and Penny are off to LA to find Daniel's mother. Uh, here's my two cents. Widmore gave you her address. Your wife is being hunted by Ben and his coherts, who have a reach wider than the Atlantic. Howsabout you skip the trip and just mail her a certified letter?
On the island it's revealed that 'here' in the early '50's a US Army expedition is exterminated. Their mission was to use the island for nuclear testing, and they left a bomb - the Jughead of the episode title - behind.
The Losties are mistaken for a US Army rescue party, and, skipping over a few things here, John gets his rather unproductive discussion with Richard Alpert.
A couple things of note: the US Army does not just willy-nilly land on an island and blow it up. Therefore, at that time the island was visible and accessible, long enough for the US to chart it, select it for use, and deploy a team to utilize it. Moreoever the Others aren't surprised, since they expect a follw-up attack.
So what changed? Did the bomb serve as the source for all the energy on the island? What gives?
We learn a few other things. Daniel loves Charlotte. Big surprise. The a-hole Other is none other than a young Charles Widmore. Slightly bigger surpise.
Ellie, the blonde Other who holds Daniel at gunpoint, and seems to be an antagonist to Widmore?
Well, my money is that it's Dan's mother (note how he joked that she looked familiar) and that she is the mysterious white haired woman who guided Desmond in the past and who Ben seems to fear.
So sometime in the last fifty years Widmore and the Others had a falling out, with both Widmore and White Haired Lady assuming control of competing interests.
That's pretty much it for this week. Anything else to add folks?
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A reader asked me this week if there's been a season or two of Lost that I didn't like. I have my favorites sure, but the answer is 'no'. Some seasons are more cerebral and mysterious, while some are action-oriented and designed to move the story arc forward. Overall, it's been a pleasant mix of the two.
As far as this season goes, I'm not overjoyed but for now, still thoroughly entertained. I will say this: I find it very awkward that the show has abandoned its trademark and highly effective format. You know what I'm talking about; the events of the 'present', intercut with flashbacks to the the character's past that explain their current actions and [hopefully]deepen our attachment to them. This season it's pgone. Oh, they still jump around in time, but now it's just a plain jane attempt to track the ridiculous 'time travel' storyline.
This week, in the real world, Desmond and Penny have a son. Three years later he 'remembers' Daniel's plea and sets out to find Farraday's mother. I have a theory on this: the memory did not exist until that moment, which I imagine coincides with Daniel venturing back in time to make the request. That's absolute bunk of course. If he changed the past then it immediately becomes part of Desmond's continuity, and he should have retained the memory through the whole shebang. Heck, it should also have a) proven to him that the 'plague' was a lie, since Daniel was seen sans hazmat suit and b) helped him retain his sanity as he knows there will be a time when he is off the island again.
Anyhow, he wanders around and finds Daniel's lab dismantled and Farraday held in contempt for his experiments, which have apparently incapacitated a woman (she actually appears to have the time travel sickness seen both last season and with Charlotte this year). Cue a meeting with Widmore and a parting shot where it's evident he and Penny are off to LA to find Daniel's mother. Uh, here's my two cents. Widmore gave you her address. Your wife is being hunted by Ben and his coherts, who have a reach wider than the Atlantic. Howsabout you skip the trip and just mail her a certified letter?
On the island it's revealed that 'here' in the early '50's a US Army expedition is exterminated. Their mission was to use the island for nuclear testing, and they left a bomb - the Jughead of the episode title - behind.
The Losties are mistaken for a US Army rescue party, and, skipping over a few things here, John gets his rather unproductive discussion with Richard Alpert.
A couple things of note: the US Army does not just willy-nilly land on an island and blow it up. Therefore, at that time the island was visible and accessible, long enough for the US to chart it, select it for use, and deploy a team to utilize it. Moreoever the Others aren't surprised, since they expect a follw-up attack.
So what changed? Did the bomb serve as the source for all the energy on the island? What gives?
We learn a few other things. Daniel loves Charlotte. Big surprise. The a-hole Other is none other than a young Charles Widmore. Slightly bigger surpise.
Ellie, the blonde Other who holds Daniel at gunpoint, and seems to be an antagonist to Widmore?
Well, my money is that it's Dan's mother (note how he joked that she looked familiar) and that she is the mysterious white haired woman who guided Desmond in the past and who Ben seems to fear.
So sometime in the last fifty years Widmore and the Others had a falling out, with both Widmore and White Haired Lady assuming control of competing interests.
That's pretty much it for this week. Anything else to add folks?
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Dang it
In the end the wrong team won, but man was it a great game. Not quite 'Wide Right' or last year's masterpiece, but in the same tier, that's for sure. It was a superb effort by Fitzgerald and Warner. The latter wrapped up his ticket to the Hall of Fame, in my humble opinion, and just posted nasty numbers. If it wasn't for that dang Holmes . . .
Anyhow, congrats to all you Steelers fans out there.
Some thoughts on the whole proceedings:
1. Five hours of pregame? C'mon, it isn't a state funeral guys. What the hell do they have to talk about for 300 minutes?
2. Faith Fill's intro song to NBC Football bites. It's far less memorable than Hank Jr's piece for Monday Night Football.
3. Jennifer Hudson looked devastated during the National Anthem, with the murder of her family still weighing heavily on her mind. I'll say a prayer for her tonight.
4. If you had to slap a label on me, I guess I'd be a 'hawk'. But the steady drumbeat of color guards, fighter jet flyovers, and the on-field presence of a commanding General . . well, 'tis a tad Mussolini for my taste.
5. I still love Madden, but Al Michael's 'humorous detachment' wears thin. I must say that today, thank God, the man was 'on'.
6. This will piss off any number of readers ~ 10 to 20 years older than me, but Bruce Springsteen is about as relevant and beloved to my generation as Al Jolson is to yours. Ony the impressive volume of late-era Baby Boomers allows the man to get gigs as big as the Super Bowl. I didn't even bother watching it.
7. You know those intros where players announce their name and college? I think anyone who uses the occasion to broadcast their high school, thuggerific moniker, or anything else other than name and college should have their intro cut. Period.
8. Why is it that on a normal day of work Lisa will call home oh, NEVER, even when I miss her or need her to pick something up, but on SuperBowl Sunday she called THREE times during the game?
9. Speaking of commercials:
a. Due to its tongue-in-cheek nature and the presence of the Great Alec Baldwin, [aka 'he who I will forgive of all liberal rants because he rocketh so'] Hulu gets an A.
b. The Coke commericals were great as usual, and the insect picnic was just darling. Did . . did I just use the word 'darling'? I meant, uh, wicked cool. Dude.
c. Budweiser sucks. Their commericals are propaganda. Next.
d. The Career Builder spot dragged on too long but scored with its repetive humor.
e. NBC's in-house ads blew. I could care less about their Monday night lineup, even with the commercial.
10. Finally, a word about the Danica Patrick Go-Daddy.com ads.
a. I am all for brunettes.
b. I am all for hot brunettes.
c. I am all for naked hot brunettes.
d. I am all for naked hot brunettes lathering up in a shower.
e. I am all for naked hot brunettes lathering up in a shower on a webcam.
f. I am all for naked hot brunettes lathering up in a shower on a webcam and joined by a hot German woman.
BUT . . . .
I do not see how this sells web addresses, nor do I think this does anything for how Patrick is seen in the sports world.
I don't think she's doing anything 'wrong', but at some point she has to realize that she has a choice. Either she plays it straight OR she can make some money as a masturbatory fantasy and piss away any chance for earning respect in the racing world.
* * * *
It'll be interesting to see how the commericals were viewed elsewhere on the Web. What did you guys think?
Anyhow, congrats to all you Steelers fans out there.
Some thoughts on the whole proceedings:
1. Five hours of pregame? C'mon, it isn't a state funeral guys. What the hell do they have to talk about for 300 minutes?
2. Faith Fill's intro song to NBC Football bites. It's far less memorable than Hank Jr's piece for Monday Night Football.
3. Jennifer Hudson looked devastated during the National Anthem, with the murder of her family still weighing heavily on her mind. I'll say a prayer for her tonight.
4. If you had to slap a label on me, I guess I'd be a 'hawk'. But the steady drumbeat of color guards, fighter jet flyovers, and the on-field presence of a commanding General . . well, 'tis a tad Mussolini for my taste.
5. I still love Madden, but Al Michael's 'humorous detachment' wears thin. I must say that today, thank God, the man was 'on'.
6. This will piss off any number of readers ~ 10 to 20 years older than me, but Bruce Springsteen is about as relevant and beloved to my generation as Al Jolson is to yours. Ony the impressive volume of late-era Baby Boomers allows the man to get gigs as big as the Super Bowl. I didn't even bother watching it.
7. You know those intros where players announce their name and college? I think anyone who uses the occasion to broadcast their high school, thuggerific moniker, or anything else other than name and college should have their intro cut. Period.
8. Why is it that on a normal day of work Lisa will call home oh, NEVER, even when I miss her or need her to pick something up, but on SuperBowl Sunday she called THREE times during the game?
9. Speaking of commercials:
a. Due to its tongue-in-cheek nature and the presence of the Great Alec Baldwin, [aka 'he who I will forgive of all liberal rants because he rocketh so'] Hulu gets an A.
b. The Coke commericals were great as usual, and the insect picnic was just darling. Did . . did I just use the word 'darling'? I meant, uh, wicked cool. Dude.
c. Budweiser sucks. Their commericals are propaganda. Next.
d. The Career Builder spot dragged on too long but scored with its repetive humor.
e. NBC's in-house ads blew. I could care less about their Monday night lineup, even with the commercial.
10. Finally, a word about the Danica Patrick Go-Daddy.com ads.
a. I am all for brunettes.
b. I am all for hot brunettes.
c. I am all for naked hot brunettes.
d. I am all for naked hot brunettes lathering up in a shower.
e. I am all for naked hot brunettes lathering up in a shower on a webcam.
f. I am all for naked hot brunettes lathering up in a shower on a webcam and joined by a hot German woman.
BUT . . . .
I do not see how this sells web addresses, nor do I think this does anything for how Patrick is seen in the sports world.
I don't think she's doing anything 'wrong', but at some point she has to realize that she has a choice. Either she plays it straight OR she can make some money as a masturbatory fantasy and piss away any chance for earning respect in the racing world.
* * * *
It'll be interesting to see how the commericals were viewed elsewhere on the Web. What did you guys think?
My Super Bowl Pick
I expect I'll have a Super Bowl - er, 'Big Game' - post later in the day. But I'm going on record to say I'll root for the Cardinals, although I'd say logic points to a Steelers win.
Yesterday I watched Marquette knock Georgetown out of the top 25 with a win at the Bradley Center - how very appropriate that two Catholic Universities met up during Catholic Schools week. After seeing both the Georgetown and Notre Dame games in the last week I have to say I'm dang impressed with the Golden Eagles. They have an aggressive, suffocating defense and while undersized they attack the boards with venom.
Let it be know that traditionally I am not a Marquette fan. I am an alum of UWM, and my po' South Side self has always held the Ritchie Rich Marquette student body in a bit of contempt.
But I like this team. That's saying a lot.
I've also taken a shine to the Bucks.
Yes, they are inconsistent. Yes, they are a few years away from being Championship caliber. Yes, Bogut is hampered by injury and Redd is out for the year. And finally, yes, I know they are three games under .500.
So what? They finished a rough January with a break-even record and now have 19 of their final 31 games at home, with a relatively soft schedule.
This team is well coached and fights hard. When Bogut is in the game he can dominate it, and Charlie V is just scorching hot right now.
It'd be nice to see them squeak into the playoffs, even if it's the NBA equivalent of 'one and done'.
Yesterday I watched Marquette knock Georgetown out of the top 25 with a win at the Bradley Center - how very appropriate that two Catholic Universities met up during Catholic Schools week. After seeing both the Georgetown and Notre Dame games in the last week I have to say I'm dang impressed with the Golden Eagles. They have an aggressive, suffocating defense and while undersized they attack the boards with venom.
Let it be know that traditionally I am not a Marquette fan. I am an alum of UWM, and my po' South Side self has always held the Ritchie Rich Marquette student body in a bit of contempt.
But I like this team. That's saying a lot.
I've also taken a shine to the Bucks.
Yes, they are inconsistent. Yes, they are a few years away from being Championship caliber. Yes, Bogut is hampered by injury and Redd is out for the year. And finally, yes, I know they are three games under .500.
So what? They finished a rough January with a break-even record and now have 19 of their final 31 games at home, with a relatively soft schedule.
This team is well coached and fights hard. When Bogut is in the game he can dominate it, and Charlie V is just scorching hot right now.
It'd be nice to see them squeak into the playoffs, even if it's the NBA equivalent of 'one and done'.
Who says the bailout money won't be put to good use?
I don't know what they think is so funny - it's waaayy bigger than our old Aspire.
H/T - And Rightly So!
audio transcript:
H/T - And Rightly So!
audio transcript:
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