5.1.2009

Today begins the countdown to two events in my life that could be described as monumental. You know, if a person were to be inclined to describe the events in their life, in print or maybe in blog.

1. On the 25th day of this month, I will turn 40. On the one hand, big fucking deal. I've managed to not die for, at this point, 39 years and 340 days. Give or take, I don't have a great mind for math. On the other hand, seeing as how I fully expected that I'd have gone ahead and died by the time I was 30, let alone 40, it's at least a little remarkable.

Remember: The scope of our discussion is my life. Yours is probably different, and undoubtedly more interesting. I appreciate your willingness to slum it a little.

As another aside, I have finally learned a lesson from the great Kurt Vonnegut. I will no longer employ the semi-colon in my prose. I admit that I may need to continue using it in some workplace communications, but such are the compromises we make for a paycheck.

Sorry. Back to the issue at hand.

2. In roughly 36 days I will get married for the second time. New bride, of course. My great hope is that I will do a far better job as a husband in this marriage than I did in the prior marriage, or at least that time will prove that my new bride will be more able to weather my various storms. All I know is that I'm very much in love with her and very honored to be her husband. For now, that's enough.

Miscellany: Bachmann is a plague. The media obsesses over the swine flu and somehow manages to miss the true illness. We have a sociopath representing a part of our fair state in congress. How is this a good thing? How did it happen (twice)? Minnesota (specifically our 6th district), I'm talking to you.

So. There's a fair bit to talk about, it would seem.

I'm afraid I've gone and sold out.

TuneCore


As you can see, I'm now selling my musical wares, under the guise of a band. There is no band, of course, just me flailing away in some spare room or basement somewhere, just like always. There are some really good guest appearances, though - good friends from all over the country who contributed terrific guitar and bass tracks that, frankly, save some of the tunes. The internets really are something.

Anyway, it's for sale @ iTunes, Amazon, eMusic, and LaLa. It's pretty cheap, so that'd be a reason to give it a go. Maybe.

The HSO live blogs Late Nite with Jimmy Fallon!

Oh, the excitement!

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Intro/House Band: People, it's the motherfucking ROOTS. Terrific. Love it. Want more Roots, now.

Monologue: Eh. He's going to have to work on his delivery. The OMG joke had legs, but he's not selling it. He'll get there, though - I'm old enough that I remember Letterman, Leno and Conan, and they were all stiff in the early years.

Random bits: Ron Dempsey - Flashback Master! Perfectly good skit - no worse than anything Conan's done, at the very least.

I like how he - so far, at least - is involving the guests in his tomfoolery. This bit with Trump is amusing. "Thanks, Trump Trump!"

President Of The Audience Bit: Who doesn't love the Applause-O-Meter? Who doesn't love Schadenfreude? Not me, I'll tell y'all what.

Blair FTW! Nice Podium. And he's from Canada, so the incongruity is fun.

Soil samples.

Trump: (oh, shit - the Roots just dropped the sweetest Wu Tang ref! There. Has. Never. Been. A. Better. Talk Show. House Band. God. Damn!) Jimmy's actually really comfortable, here - he's letting the D run, but he's sticking his own stuff in here and there. Good flow, very conversational. Love his restraint - he could go cheap and piss the guy off, but he's stroking him along and letting the flow develop. I'm really very impressed at the light, conversational tone he's maintaining. Well done, Fallon.

Given his ability to interview, I expect he'll be around for a while.

And, again. The Roots. ?uestlove, y'all! I'm instantly addicted to this.

I'm going to need a smoke at some point, here. This means I will miss some things. Live blog, right? Cool.

Tuba!

I like how the gag runs throughout the show - for now. It might get old. The "Attack Ad" is predictable, but not bad in context.

Serena Williams is beautiful and terrifying all at once. Beauterrifying. Jimmy's definitely going to play her gently. Eek.



Okay, the smoke break devolved into an Easy Mac-making project. I'm hungry. Live blogging.

I suspect this Kings show is going to be shiny poop.

Beer pong. Awesome. Drink, Fallon!

Ludacris + The Roots: Dude can MC - back him with all that goodness and it's bound to be okay.

The mini-interview @ the end further illustrates Fallon's surprising ease in the interview mode. This bodes well for him, I think.

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I liked it.

Hey there, fellow bike rider! I have a request.

Can you maybe try not to be so stupid/unsafe/dickish, just a little, and maybe not fuck things up for the rest of us who know what we're doing?

I'm not talking to you, bike messengers; you know what you're doing and you do it the right way, because you're well aware that your health and (here's the important part) the health of others depends on you doing so. I'm not talking to you folks who commute on a bike daily and do the little things, like adhering at least slightly to the rules of the road, staying off sidewalks whenever possible (as it turns out, some people like to just walk on them!), dressing with some common sense; you know, stuff like that.

You know who you are, fellow bike rider. And you know you can do better.

Today's example: I was driving down Harriet (sometimes I drive, like when I'm running errands and want a little more than the space in my bag and my back strength in terms of hauling capacity) - if you aren't familiar with it, Harriet is a little one-way street here in Minneapolis. In the winter, it becomes effectively half its normal width, due to snow and ice accumulation forcing cars to park progressively farther away from the curbs as Winter moves along. By this point, there's rarely more than about 6 feet of space on either side of cars traveling down the street. So there I am, tooling down this narrow corridor, when I spy a fellow bike rider coming towards me, going the wrong way.

Now, since I ride myself, I'm overly courteous to riders when I drive. Accordingly, I shifted as far to the right as possible so the rider would have some room to get by. The thing is, this street was pretty icy; big patches of ice, all over the place. So I couldn't help but wonder how wise it was to ride against traffic on an iced-up little one-way (thanks, Paul!) when there's a street going the way you want to go just one block West, as I continued to tightrope along the right side of the street, flirting side mirror disaster as I went along. As he passed me, he lost his grip a little and had to steady himself by dragging a foot. He also gave me the stinkeye, as if he was disgusted with the gall I was displaying by driving the right way down a one-way street. Sure; that makes all sorts of sense and isn't at all dickish.

Honest, folks; most of us are perfectly nice, sane people. We aren't interested in getting in your way or otherwise molesting your peaceful progress through the day. As long as you are kind enough to refrain from, you know, running us over and stuff, we're easy to get along with.

As for the rest of you, work on that shit, okay? Good talk.

Dear Paul: An Open Letter to an Important Musical Touchstone.

I know, I know - with all the awesome content I could be providing, I'm going to waste your time for what? First, let me apoligize to the 2 (or maybe 3) of you who read this drivel on occasion: I know it's a waste of your time, but it'll be quick and it must be said.

Recently, while doing a little light reading on the internets to try and keep up with the career and goings on of one Paul Westerberg, I came across some indication that Tommy Stinson had been in town this past autumn. That in itself isn't all that crazy; this is his hometown, after all. No, what caught my attention was the fact that while he was here, Tommy got together and played w/ Paul. Again, this isn't all that outlandish; they've collaborated several times since the 'Mats parted ways. The kicker is that they were playing with a drummer and another guitar player.

Hmm... Pauly, Tommy, a drummer and another guitar player. Where have I seen that lineup before?

Now, according to both Paul and Tommy, this wasn't a precursor to the so-anticipated-that-if-it-happens-some-people-I-know-might-actually-die-from-excitement Replacements reunion; they don't seem ready for that, yet. Yet. But what if it was? What if they were rehearsing for just such a venture? Wouldn't that be great?

No. No, it wouldn't. And I'll tell you why: The other guitarist wasn't me.

That's right, Paul; I'm the guy you need to call if you ever get the itch to dust off those old gems and play them with a 4-piece rock band again. I'm just going to lay it out there like that. I loved Bob Stinson, probably a little too much. I loved how his playing transformed catchy pop tunes into heart-racing drama; how he could ratchet up the tension with a couple notes here or a double-stop there; how he would decorate your insanely catchy songs with aural shrapnel. He was like a sucker punch that way.

Paul, if you should ever decide to try a Replacements reunion, please consider me for that all-important Bob Stinson role. And if you don't or won't (understandable; I'm just some schmuck claiming in his blog to be capable of such a feat, after all) consider me, at least refrain from filling that role with some sort of 'professional'; that would be a criminal error in casting. Whoever your Bob is, he needs to be anything BUT professional. He needs to do the opposite of respecting your very-respectable canon; he needs to avoid defering to your wishes in any way. In short, he needs to bring some real Bob Stinson to the table.

Can anyone short of Bob himself do it? I don't know, to be honest; and I'll admit that I'm personally as ambivalent about the idea of a Replacements reunion that doesn't include the real Bob as you seem to be. That kind of lightning isn't easy to catch in a bottle in the first place; twice is unlikely. Perhaps it's an impossibility.

But if you find yourself wanting to try it, give me a call. I'm the guy for the job, I swear it.

Well, hey! There you are. Sorry about that.

Long time no blog, and other contrite shit I don't mean. I haven't written because I haven't damn well felt like it. Whatevs.

But it's the holiday season, is it not? And dammit, in every dysfunctional family I've been a part of, the holidays are a great time for some drunken, stupid member of the family to do something inappropriate.

My dear Readers, I am that drunken, stupid family member! And indeed, I have gone and done something very inappropriate. But, shit; I do it every year.

I have spoken to you of the Santaland Diaries before. You know what Kyle and I do. What you don't know is that a daring e-journalist has taken a shine to the Misfit Toys, and he somehow managed to get our sad butts onto Secrets of the City in a pretty cool way. They made a friggin' video, which video you can view if you click the previous link. It's about halfway down the page. (DO PLEASE NOTE: AS ALUDED TO ABOVE, IT IS NOT FOR YOUR CHILDREN OR ANYONE ELSE WHO SHOULDN'T BE CONFRONTED WITH MOTHERFUCKING HORRIBLE LANGUAGE. SO DON'T CLICK AT WORK OR IN FRONT OF THE OFFSPRING OR ANYONE ELSE WHO CAN'T DEAL)

First, props to our swell friend Rich for giving a shit and making this happen. Additional props to Cristina Cordova, who shot and edited the thing. There was another really cool guy whose name I've sadly since forgotten (it's okay; he'll live on forever in our hearts and minds as the unfortunate, mildly freaked-out elevator-mate), as well. More obvious props must go to the cast: Lorinda Chagnon, Eric Nelson, and Kristina Solomon. Nobody wrote that stuff for them, they just plumb made it up on the spot. And Kyle's cool and a really good fellow and shit. Joy, love, puke. Yay.

Anyway. Happy holidays, y'all.

Fear and Loathing in Titletown, USA?

I watched the interview on the internet(s) -- I couldn't commit to it 100% at its original airtime because it conflicted with a new Bordain episode, and I love me some Bordain.

I actually think Brett came off very well in the interview -- and I also know it was a controlled environment, so he wasn't ever going to come across any other way than exactly as he wanted to, so this was actually a good thing.

He understands they've moved on (my hope is that in tomorrow's episode he comes out and says he doesn't want to mess things up for Rodgers). He certainly seems to feel that he wasn't given due time to think things over -- and I think that's a valid complaint, really. Not that I would have let him vacillate until July either, but at least it's a concrete point of divergence. I'm not going to critique the man's argument, ferfucksake -- as has been stated before, I'm a bit of a fan.

We've now heard from both parties, more or less directly. Blood is still being spilled. The question now is who will come in with the salve. If I was Brett, I think I'd want to be That Guy. I'd say that even though I felt rushed, I understand that I set things in motion with my retirement that can't be undone. I'd say that I think Aaron Rodgers has the potential to lead the Packers for many years to come, and that I absolutely wish him well.

Then I'd say that I still want the option to lead a football team, and I'd request face-to-face negotiations to see how we could make that happen, for the best interests of everyone involved.

That's what I would do.

When all of this is over, we'll get to the Cubs. Pray that it drags out.