Best/Worst of 2005

Hey all. Here's my random thoughts on 2005... a year I am glad to have finished as it pretty much was a struggle. But, hey, things are already looking good for 2006--I am working days again, my school load is cut in half, and I have a graduation to look forward to! Anyway, have a safe and merry new year and enjoy the list:
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BEST ALBUM: 12 Songs, Neil Diamond.
Seriously, Rick Rubin is a genius. From Slayer to Johnny Cash, to Run DMC and the Beastie Boys, Rick Rubin has started and resurrected sooo many musical careers with his mastery behind the boards. Forcing Neil to lay off of his glitter and cheese, Diamond offers 12 raw recordings of brilliant songwriting. The stripped-down production--usually only Neil's voice backed by a couple acoustic guitars--confirms that behind the larger-than-life persona of Neil Diamond lives the soul of a SONGWRITER. All 12 songs are wonderful, but "Hell Yeah" is the best single of 2005. Get it now and enjoy.


Worth buying? Hell Yeah it is!

WORST THING ABOUT THE BEST ALBUM OF 2005: Thanks for the spyware, Sony! Look, I bought the CD and I want to put it on my WinAmp "jukebox" on my computer. After I finally installed the spyware-inducing software, the damn thing still wouldn't work without another program to transfer the WMA files to MPEG. I gave up and deleted everything... plus I had to download another program to remove the harmful spyware.

BEST MOVIE: REVENGE OF THE SITH

To be honest, this was the only movie I had the chance to see in the theatres in 2005. But it was definitely awesome.

BEST MOVIE MOMENT: The opening 20 minutes of Revenge of the Sith. WOW. Starfighters screaming by, rapid-fire editing, ultra excitement!! BAM!

WORST MOVIE MOMENT: REVENGE OF THE SITH: Darth Vader's "Nooooooo!" C'mon!

BIGGEST SPORTS DISAPPOINTMENT: Letsee... the Twins, the Wolves, and the Vikes were all picked by various national media outlets to make it to their respective championships. And Minnesota went 0-3. Grrrrr!

MOST DESPICABLE THING ABOUT NATURAL DISASTERS: I am not a big G.W. supporter, but the way the administration was crucified for not being omniscient enough to predict the weather was sad. The fact that Bush was blamed for not bailing out New Orleans in a timely manner (despite claims by Marine and Coast Guard members that it was the swiftest evacuation they've seen) while ample warning was given to the citizens is worse. To turn the hurricanes into a anti-Bush agenda was sad, sad, sad.

BEST DVD PURCHASE: LITTLE HOUSE ON THE PRAIRIE (Seasons 1-5... so far) My wife and I have been enjoying reliving memories of Ma, Pa, Laura, and Mary with these packaged seasons on DVD. Little House ROCKS! Michael Landon turned Charles Ingalls into a super-hero, able to punch, swim, and work his way out of any family crisis. Awesome... A bit preachy sometimes, but awesome.

BEST FOOD SWITCH: A bit sick of the fajita burrito, I switched to the hard tacos at Chipotle. Mmmmmmm... better, and not so sickenly stuffing.

BEST CELEBRITY SIGHTING: I sat next to Flip Saunders and his son at the U of MN Chipotle. I was wearing my Timberwolves winter cap, but this was only a week or so after he got the axe... I nodded and smiled to 'em, but I figured I'd let him eat without autograph seeking and such.

WORST THING ABOUT THE U OF MN: The anti-war protests were so embarrassing (see my articles below)

BEST THING ABOUT THE U OF MN: I finally took the time to figure out "The Gopher Way," a maze of tunnels that allows me to travel across the mega-campus without going outside. SOOOOO helpful during this frigid winter!

WORST LOCAL NEWS CHANNEL: They all suck, but FOX 9's new muckraking approach to "journalism" is sick! "We'll track down politicians... and tell you when they SCREW UP!" Seriously.

WORST LOCAL NEWS: It's not the fact that the Vikings had their sex cruise on Lake Minnetonka, it's the fact that it was inescapable for months. Yeah, it's illegal and newsworthy, but is it worth the local media's dumpster diving for evidence?

BEST BRIDGE CLOSING: For a few months, Stillwater closed its historic lift bridge for repairs--meaning I was able to drive Highway 36 without the usual flurry of Wisconsinites. Ahhhh... it was nice while it lasted.

WORST RADIO AD: I love her soooo. And she must Kno-oooow. The way that I show her... has got to go straight to the heart. STRAIIIIGHT to the Hear--rt! (Goodman Jewelers) WOOOOAAAHOAOAOAOAOHHh! I know it's an oldie, but it was back in 2005... During the Xmas season this ad played every 20 minutes. I timed it.

BEST WEBSITE: www.aequalsa.blogspot.com duh.

WORST THING ABOUT NEW YEARS BESIDES DRUNK DRIVING: People think they are sooo clever by saying, "See You Next Year!" during the final days of December. Hello, people! Cliches are not clever!

Alright, that's enough. See you next year!

12-18

Today marks the 4th year since my dad lost his battle with cancer. Each "anniversary" of his death (can we come up with a different word for this? "Anniversary" sounds so happy...), I like to reflect on the life I had with him and the life I've been leading without him. Taking this sort of personal inventory has helped me keep my focus through tougher times while making me think he'd be proud of me through the better ones.

When my dad was slipping away from us, I had a chance to talk to him alone--knowing it was probably the last time I'd be able to say something that he'd have the possibility to understand. Beyond telling him that I loved him, that I'd help look after Mom and the family, etc., I also told him that I would do two things: I'd go back to school someday to finish my degree, and I'd marry my long-time girlfriend. To be honest, I really doubted the school thing. How could I go back with my full-time job and my other financial responsibilities? I think that I was just telling him something that I wished would be true instead of something that I planned to make happen.

My dad made an audible grunt/sigh after I was done talking, so I think he heard me... I don't really know if he understood.

A couple years ago, I did half of what I said I'd do--I married my wonderful wife, Karla. Little did I know, though, that life with her would put me in such a better place that I gained the support and stability needed to pursue returning to the U of MN after dropping out 6 years prior. It hasn't been easy. I had to take a midnight shift to juggle my class and work schedules. I HARDLY see my wife anymore during the week and I am often too tired to do much with her on the weekends. It's definitely been a trial for both of us and I wouldn't have even attempted this without Karla's unflinching support. Barring any surprises, I will graduate this spring and I'll be able to tell my paw on Father's Day that I completed both of my goals.

Losing your dad at any time of your life is tough--but losing him during your late 20's adds some more stress. I am old enough to have new challenges and real-life responsibilities (like home ownership, being a husband, etc.) but young enough to still need his advice. Luckily, I have plenty of friends and family around me to help out... but sometimes you just need your dad. To be able to say on our yearly sum-up that things are relatively well and I am finally on my way to finishing off what I promised to him before he passed makes the struggle worth it.

Lastly, I am posting this not to toot my own horn, but to serve as a sort of memorial for my paw. I sometimes like to use this site as a means to sort out my feelings in journal form, and to use the publicly-accessible space to advertise how cool my dad was; plus I hope that some person could be helped out by this somehow. I read a book a few years back by drummer, Neil Peart, titled Ghost Rider which tells his story of coping with the loss of his daughter and his wife. Peart mentioned how he would write to his daughter in journal-form as if he were sending her letters updating her on what was going on. I bought a journal on my dad's birthday 2 years ago and tried the same thing. Although my entries have slipped off from time to time, I found it to be the one of best means of dealing with the loss--AND with remembering the life I had with him. It's a coping device that I recommend to anyone in a similar situation.

...On becoming a better movie critic...

My pal from the Proex days is the creator/head-writer of an up-and-coming movie website at: http://www.moviepatron.com .

As his readership has been increasing, he has asked me to contribute whatever I can, so I threw him a little treatise on how to get more outta moviegoing by becoming a better critic. Please check it out if you're interested by clicking on the link above and going to the "what's new" section. You'll find it there. He's working out a way to have my stuff linked, but that will work for now! Be sure to check out his site as he gives good, honest reviews from a movie fan's perspective, rather than the snooty perspective that I am often guilty of maintaining! I will have some reviews coming up in the near future, so check back often!

Thanks!
--Tones

...Lemmings. (Rant pt. II)

Sigh...

So, on my way to the bursur's office to pay my $1007.61 balance for my tuition (it's an installment), I had to walk past the demonstration described in my ...idiots post below. On the way there, a ROTC guy in full cammo walked past two grungy guys with guitars and "Fight for Peace, Not Oil" signs. Being an adept people-watcher, I focused in on these guys to see how they would react to the army guy walking past them. One of the protesters-to-be used his sign as a mock-axe and pretended to whap the ROTC guy (of course--to his back) and giggling ensued. Nice. Go! Party for peace!

Walking past Coffman Union, I had to wonder if it was a protest or a block-party. Man, it looked like fun. Music was blasting, people were dancing, a splendid time was guaranteed for all. Choppers from Channel Five news and KARE hovered around campus to get their footage and I couldn't help wanting to look for a place to hide.

Look, it's great that we have the freedom to disagree with our government and to show our disagreement in public displays. I love that about this country. This wasn't a public demonstration of disagreement. This was a festival. For those people who were there to sincerely show their disgust for G.W.'s foreign policy--you should be just as frustrated as I am. Your peers were not issue-savvy students ready to form an argument--they were merely Lemmings drawn in by the Public Enemy blasting from the speakers.

Yes, you showed your numbers--there certainly are a lot of people who can stand and chant nifty slogans. You can make pretty signs with the peace sign on 'em. You can clap and scream after each shouted statement over the bullhorn. What does this accomplish, though? Why are you at the University and not the Capitol? Why not stage this on the weekend where it doesn't interfere with class schedules or learning?

<-- Forget the Gophers, here's our new mascot!


My main point through this tired, groggy-minded rant is that I saw a lot of follow-the-leader today--and seeing that at a university upsets me. Couple that with the fact that the protest's organizers called for its supporters to leave class--to stop learning--in order to play Simon-Says and behave like lemmings and I get fairly angry (and scared). It may seem like I am pulling out too much symbolism here (shut off your brain and protest!) but I can't shake it.

Oh well... nuff said, I guess. It will be forgotten by most people after the news tonight. I'll pry forget about it after the Wolfies game tonight when I most likely will have something else to rant about. Hopefully not.

...Idiots.

The University of Minnesota's protester organization has spent the last few weeks advertising a mid-class walk out today, Nov. 2nd (the anniversary of Bush's reelection), to protest our involvement in Iraq.

Come the @$#$ ON!

Regardless of being for or against the war, can't you think of better ways to get your point across than walking out of your college class!? Didn't your ex-hippie parents tell you how much they are shelling out for your tuition? Take it from the 30-year-old-dropped-out-and-now-back-to-finish-his-degree-even-though-it's-super-hard-to-balance-time-between-school-homework-fulltimejob-and-wife guy: EVERY CLASS IS TOO VALUABLE TO SKIP... especially for a pointless demonstration like this.

Besides advertising the U of MN's loose admissions standards, what the #$#%! is walking out of your class going to prove? Really, do you think G.W. is going to say, "Waaaaiiit a minute here. These college kids want us to pull out of Iraq. Their argument is so sound and clearly stated, that I can't see any way around it! The United States will no longer be involved in Iraq! Kudos, kiddies!"

Go ahead and follow the herd, I'll be in class... speaking of which... GOTTAGO!

Random thought for the day...

What's a seven letter word for "random blog before I crash on the couch since I haven't written anything in months?"

Ah... I love the crossword. I love to commit a good morning's half-hour with my coffee and my puzzle to get my mind started for the day. If you don't do the crossword, shame on you! I suggest you ape this behavior so your brain can become as sharp as an epee.

So I do the crossword in the Minnesota Daily daily. It's the only thing worth looking at in that stupid rag, but boy--it's a great crossword. Anyway, I gets to thinking that since 4 out of 5 crossword puzzles that I have ever done includes the clue:

45 d: LENNON'S LOVE
or
45d: YOKO ____
or
45d: WOMAN WHO LIVES OFF OF DEAD BEATLES,

does poor Cynthia Lennon get to do the crossword--or is it too painful for her? She has to be reminded at least once a week (according to my 4-outta-5 statistics) via crossword puzzle that her hubby ditched her for some crazy artist with a great crossword name.





<---I know C-Y-N fits, but the answer is O-N-O... sorry!



I suggest that you crossword creators out there STOP IT! Is it really necessary to use O-N-O? It's getting O-L-D now... a cliche... a cop out. Why not add a "B" and use "Singer for U2" or Cher's Ex? Really, now--let's try to be a bit more sensitive to poor Cyn as we try to fill in that last space in 43 down. One more minute dedicated to thinking up a fresh clue equals one more day that Miss Lennon can wake up, have her tea and crumpets, enjoy a crossword (or "box-puzzler"--as they call it over in Liverpool) and not have to be reminded of that screeching crack-pot homewrecker (or "flat-shambler" as they say across the pond).

OR, how's about we hook Cyn up with a guy with an equally cliched crossword name? Alec Guinness is dead, sadly, but there's always Mr. Baldwin... or I've been seeing EWAN being used a lot recently... he's been pretty hot lately... or, hey! RINGO!

The Wisdom of Henry

I sat my cute nephew down at my computer and asked him to write an essay on cool uncles. Here's what he wrote:
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Genius.... PURE Genius in this family.

Whole

This article refers to the documentary, Whole, by Melody Gilbert. Please check out http://www.whole-documentary.com/main.html for info. Basically, it's about a small population of individuals who suffer from apotemnophilia, an obsession to amputate a healthy limb. These people are compared to people who desire sex-changes as they feel that they were made incorrectly and the only thing to make them "whole" would be to surgically change their body. Some of these individuals stated that if they are denied amputation, suicide would be the next step. There is an obvious psychological problem here, and the patients admit this--but since it is so uncommon and unheard of, there is no psychological treatment at this time. So, the question is, what do they do in the meantime? Some perform self-inflicted injuries to their unwanted limb so a doctor would be forced to amputate, others have found a few willing surgeons that perform the amputation on the healthy limb... but this has been banned in Great Britain shortly after word got out. My article concentrates on this... until psychology catches up with this condition, should the medical community deny the amputation when the patient, hospital, and surgeon are all willing to perform the operation? It is up to philosophy to step in and defend 'em, eh?
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While the documentary, Whole, presents enough psychological issues to keep couches warm for a while, there seems to be one philosophical issue in its forefront: paternalism. Specifically in the medical realm, when should an authority override a patient’s wishes for the patient’s own good? In the case of Whole, if a patient requests the amputation of a perfectly healthy limb for the benefit of his own mental health (sometimes to avoid suicide), should the operation be performed? More importantly, if a doctor is found to be willing, should the operation be prohibited by either the government or the hospital?

The patients in Whole are all people of sound mind. They are self-aware to the point where some can pinpoint the moment that their obsessions with amputation began. (For example, one patient remembers the contrast of his own harsh childhood while seeing an amputee being welcomed by loving children.) For the most part, these people realize that they have a problem—and they realize that amputation will make them at peace. A seemingly obvious solution is to grant their wishes. If person P has a mental disorder X which can be cured by Y, and P found a doctor willing to do Y, and P is willing to undergo Y… why the hell not let Y happen?

Well, Y happens to be amputation—an irreversible operation that has always been viewed as a worst-case scenario operation. Why on Earth would we allow the voluntary amputation of a healthy limb? My argument is: it is a worst-case scenario operation. According to the film, many have tried years of psychological therapy, but their cases are too rare to have an available solution or treatment. Both the patients and the psychologists seem baffled at the issue. After experiencing the daily torment of an unwanted limb with no psychological cure in sight, most patients choose amputation as the last-case option as they can no longer live under their current situations. If a psychological answer presented itself, I am certain that the patients in Whole would welcome it to avoid amputation. As it stands, however, their requests seem justified.
It is hard not to see the parallels with other obsessions. There are many people who are deeply obsessed with food, plastic surgery, the desire to change sexes, buying shoes, etc. The difference here is that each of the listed issues has a mainstream solution. Anyone can get a nose job, a sex change, or ice cream without too much public scorn. When an obsession has to be met by a surgery reserved for those in a literal choice between life and limb, it is quite difficult to grant the surgery to those who are not (seemingly) in such a dire situation. Again, it could be argued that they are. More than one ‘wannabe’ in Whole mentioned that if they didn’t receive the amputation, suicide was the next step.

Philosophically, when all parties are willing to either perform or receive the amputation—it should be done (assuming the attempts of counseling). But all parties must be willing. The doctor has the right to refuse to give an amputation of a healthy limb, but he also has the right to perform it as the Hippocratic Oath can be interpreted either way: you are physically harming the patient if you remove the limb, but you are helping the patient’s mental health by performing it. The private hospitals have the right to either refuse or grant permission for the amputation, but I have a hard time seeing how the government could override the decision of the private business (another issue of paternalism). Using philosophy, we can grant the ‘wannabes’ the right to an amputation under certain situations and we can protect the doctors and hospitals who perform them. It is up to those in psychology to determine if it is the best solution to apotemnophilia.

Regarding CVS...

Please read the article here: http://www.citypages.com/databank/26/1263/article12963.asp


Casting a Chill on the Pill, a City Pages article by Bridgete Reinsmoen calls out the pharmacy chain, CVS, for its questionable policy that allows its employees to refuse to dispense prescriptions that they consider immoral. Specifically, a rape victim in Texas was denied the Morning After pill at an Eckland drugstore (owned now by CVS, but not at the time) by clerks who deemed the pill immoral. While this shows that CVS’s policies are shaky (why on Earth would you hire someone who is unwilling to sell your products?), I will have to argue against two topics presented in the article: that companies should be prevented from enacting their own refusal/conscious clauses (via state or federal law), and that an individual has a right to get a subscription filled at the most conveniently located pharmacy (more generally, an individual has a right to any service offered by a private business).

Reinsmoen states in her article that although there are no federal laws that prohibit a company’s adoption of refusal clauses, several states have recently passed legislation that would allow a pharmacist’s refusal of any prescription that is considered immoral. While I am sympathetic to the situations of the aforementioned woman, I must assert the fact that CVS is a private corporation that should have the legal right to hire whoever they want (assuming they do not discriminate against race, age, etc.) and to establish policies that would make their employees more comfortable in the workplace. If CVS wants to employ pharmacists that refuse to do their job, that’s CVS’s mistake to make. If CVS wants to turn away paying customers and welcome in bad press and boycotts in order to satisfy the moral concerns of its employees, they should have the freedom to do so. CVS should be allowed to run its business as poorly as it wants to. This is not to say that a private corporation should be able to ignore OSHA regulations or be allowed to sexually harass whomever they please. The rights of the employers and employees need to be protected—perhaps this recent legislation is doing just that.

What about the rights of the woman who had her prescription turned down? I would have to say, what rights? Does an individual have the right to receive all services offered by a business? A maw-and-pop corner store just set up shop down the block from my house, owned by a fella named Tim. When Tim and his wife have to step out for a break, they let their teenaged son run the counter. During this period, the Lotto tickets and the cigarettes displayed on his counter are off-limits as Tim’s son cannot legally sell these products. If I were a smoker or a gambler, would I have my rights threatened while shopping during this time? No. If Tim decides to close his store early to catch the Twins game, do I have the right to pound on his door, demanding that he provide me with the food I need? Tim’s store is within walking distance—the most convenient store in my area. As much of a burden as it would be to find transportation to make my simple purchase, I would have to accept the burden as Tim has no moral obligation to open his store for me. In the case of the Texas woman, CVS has no moral obligation to sell its products or to employ willing pharmacists. It seems like bad business to me, but they are not morally or legally required to do so. The woman would have to find another store.

Now, as I send (via my argument) a recently raped woman on her way to hunt down transportation to find a willing pharmacy, I do so with a newly found disgust for the CVS Company. I will be sure to spread the word and start my own little boycott circle. Boycotts and bad press are the way to attack this issue. Limiting the freedoms of private corporations is not.

Bocce Balls!

I wrote this for my philosophy class. I will have the oppertunity to post more of papers as it's a writing intensive class. Hey, it's something!
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Imagine that you are at a friend’s house for a BBQ and some Bocce Ball and you also suffer from colorblindness with a red/green deficiency (for matters of style, I will from now on assume the red/green deficiency when mentioning colorblindness). Your friend meant well by bringing out his set of Bocce Balls as he was merely offering a fun yard game to play. He didn’t realize that the balls are manufactured in the two colors that your eyes cannot see correctly—red and green. Instead of enjoying the day, you are left sulking in your Budweiser as once again your handicap has been overlooked. This situation could have been avoided if the manufactures of Bocce Balls would stop to think about their color selection. I will guide these manufacturers toward a new color scheme by: arguing against the current Bocce sets of red and green, offering support of the change through a list of profitable possibilities, and by offering a better scheme to replace the current red and green sets that seem to dominate the Bocce isles of our finer retail stores.
First, let’s take a look at the most common color choice of Bocce Balls: red and green. Keep in mind that they are not the bold, distinctive reds and greens observable on stoplights. No, it is now trendy to paint the balls in muted olives, or subtle tints of rust or brick, which look like a dull grey to the colorblind. When thrown onto a grassy lawn, the muted-green ball is immediately lost to a colorblind participant as the poor chap cannot distinguish the green ball from the green grass (same goes for any nearsighted person, for that matter). To make matters worse, the opponent’s red ball is painted in the very color that a colorblind person has a hard time separating from green… which is the color of his own ball! You can imagine the frustration of our poor colorblind player as these balls are being thrown at a distance. If he’s lucky enough to pick out the ball from the grass, it is a struggle to tell to which team that ball belongs! Both the red and green balls look a sort-of grayish. With this said, it now seems quite shortsighted and silly to choose red and green as the standard Bocce colors.

Now that I have demonstrated that red and green are poor choices of color for Bocce Balls, I will now offer reasons to change that are in the best interests of the manufacturers (to answer the WHO CARES? counterargument) while offering new color schemes as replacements. Our new color scheme must meet two simple demands: they must stand out when placed in grass, and each color must be distinguishable from the other in the eyes of the colorblind. Imagine alternatively colored Bocce Balls that break away from the traditional red and green sets. Breaking away from the stale red and green will make any brightly colored, contrasting set of Bocce Balls stand out from its competitors on the store shelves. Think of the possibilities of the contrasting colors: what Minnesotan football fan wouldn’t buy a purple and gold bocce set to both represent his Vikings pride and to appease his colorblind pals? The colorblind-friendly choice of orange and blue could be marketed toward both fans of the Florida Gators and the Denver Broncos. Imagine introducing your child to the game of Bocce with a Grover and Big Bird set with contrasting blues and yellows. With each new scheme, we introduce a new world of marketing ($$) possibilities. The manufacturers can’t afford not to change!

Not only have I demonstrated the need for change in Bocce Ball color, I have also shown a profit potential that could add incentive to the manufacturers beyond helping the minority of colorblind people. This argument rests… the ball is now in the courts of the manufacturers.

(note: I do know that there are already multi-colored and even glow-in-the-dark sets on the internet, but these are not found in mainstream locales. Plus, this was more of an exersize in argument rather than a serious attack on the Bocce community. I have never played on a set that was not green and red, though as they are truely the most popular color.)

What Was In My Jukebox...

I haven't been driving to work lately, so I haven't been listening to as much music as I should--except for whatever comes up on my computer's Jukebox (Winamp with a bunch of MP3's). A Velvet Revolver song came up and I remembered that I was going to do a review on the bugger a while back... so:

WHAT WAS IN MY JUKEBOX

Velvet Revolver (2004)

We know the story...Guns 'N' Roses came out way back in the 80's and released Appetite for Destruction... one of the best rock albums EVER (See review in my March 2005 Archives). Sadly, they were a one-hit-album band due to lack of in-band chemistry (or too many chemicals altogether?) and released a few subpar albums before finally disbanding in the 90's. I have been waiting ever since first hearing that wah-wah solo of Sweet Child of Mine to hear another great Slash album--and since that was back in my junior high days, I've been waiting a long time.

Meanwhile, grunge happened. Stone Temple Pilots blipped upon the scene and pretty much were a ho-hum rip off of all the other garbage found in Seattle. They broke up too.

Fast forward to today and our favorite guitar-hero-desperately-seeking-project-other-than-a-Snake-Pit teams up with Ex-Guns 'N' Roses bassist, [ahem...] Duff, and Ex-Stone Temple Pilot crooner, Scott Weiland. Yay? We'll see... SuperGroup? Not yet...

Remember seeing the movie, Willow? It was a George Lucas movie, no doubt... It felt like Star Wars: it had swords, a wise cracking mercinary, a helmeted bad guy, little people, etc. But it wasn't Star Wars. Willow got me through the loooonnnngggg wait between Episodes VI and I, but really, it lacked so much of Star Wars' magic that we pretty much forgot about it. It was good, I guess. But damn it! We Wanted Star Wars!

Same thing goes here. Velvet Revolver is good. In fact, it rocks more than it sucks... but I couldn't help wanting to say, "Screw it," and throw in Appetite for Destruction. To make my frustration clearer, just try to get through Willow without grabbing your Star Wars DVD's once you get to the part with those stupid tiny hairy things who are supposed to be comic relief (see pic below). But I digress...



Slash does an outstanding job creating grooves that both rock and are able to survive on today's modern rock radio. The guitar riffing is real good here, but the solos are too short, lack "ooomph," and feel "added on" rather than feeling necessary (like the jaw dropping solos of Appetite). Slash does good work here, but nothing special. Hmmph.

Weiland, to his credit, doesn't ruin anything. He doesn't suck. He's like the backup quarterback who's asked to fill in not to lose the game--but not asked to be a hero. He's alright. BUT, he's no Axl Rose (pre-plastic surgery/manic depression Axl, mind you).

Overall, the songs are cute modern bits of rock that just seem overproduced and sterile when compared to the gritty masterpiece of Appetite... and that's my issue with Velvet Revolver. Sadly, it will always be compared to the masterpiece--and it will always fall well short. (See also: Episodes I and II).

Rating **** outta 8.

Poetry? Yuk...

Again, sorry for the lack of new stuff...

Here's something I wrote for a creative writing class back in the day at the U of MN. Yeah, it's poetry and poetry sucks. BUT, it's timely as there are both new Star Wars and Duke Boys movies coming out this summer. Nice nostalgia, though. Basically, the poem shows how boys play--according to their hair color.
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Copyright 1995, Anthony Selbitschka

I wish I had black hair
then I could be Han.
Bradley Bruce Northquest got to be Han
(he had black hair).
My hair was blonde....
like stupid Luke's.
I wish I could be Han.

Behind, beyond the frosted weeping willow
the Imperial army marched.
I as Luke
with my blonde hair and
Bradley Bruce Northquest
and his black hair as Han
successfully, imaginarilly
protected the rebel base
on the frozen planet backyard.

Nightfall was closing in on
the ice-planet Hoth my backyard.
I as Luke with my blonde hair
was to report back to the rebel base my home.

(I as myself now with my blonde hair.)

Stupid Moonboots!
Stupid liner came out of the boot again and is
sticking to my three layers of spongeyslusheypuddlesocks.

Smells like cocoa.

Go downstairs
in the laundry room
strip down to my darkgreenultracool
Yoda Underroos underwear...
leaving behind a drippingsoggeylumpo'winterclothes
For Mom to take care of.

Kiss Mom.
Take cocoa.
Get my comforter.
Turn on the Duke boys.
Lie down.
With the cocoa.
In my Yoda Underroos.
Laugh at Crazy Cooter.
Wait 'till summer.
When I can be Bo Duke.

Cause I got blonde hair.
Like Bo Duke.
And Bradley Bruce Northquest
Has to be stupid Luke Duke
'Cause he has black hair.
Like Luke Duke.
And we get to cruise around Hazard County Oakdale, Minnesota
In our General Lee our bikes
In the summer
With my blonde hair.

Miss Jurgens, 5th Grade Teacher

I wrote this for a journalism class back in the day and my professor told me to submit it for publication. I thought that since my creative energy is at an all-time low (due to my job searching), I'd start recycling old papers on my site. If you happen to want to publish the thing... let me know (Ha!)... otherwise, enjoy!
-------------------------------------------------------
(copyright 1996, Anthony Selbitschka)

I hated Miss Jurgens, my fifth grade teacher. She confiscated my whoopie cushion and kept it in her desk for the rest of the school year. She gave me a "3" in art (on a 1-4 scale, 4 being the lowest) for drawing "too many cartoons." She didn't buy my excuses for late assignments. She lectured the class on deodorant. She represented change in my content fifth-grader life.

I hated Miss Jurgens because she made us keep a daily writing journal. On top of it, we had to do "Creative Writing" once a week. She said that she would keep all of our writing exercises, then give them back to us at the end of the year so we could keep them and when we got old we could look at them and see what we wrote like when we were in fifth grade. Bah! What a stupid idea.

The introductory type of creative writing exercises had fill-in-the-blank questions on the front to help us brainstorm, and lines on the back to write out our ideas. I was not thrilled by the whole writing experience yet:

PRINCIPAL FOR THE DAY!
THE PRINCIPAL'S OFFICE IS ALL YOURS! YOU ARE THE PRINCIPAL FOR THE DAY!!! WRITE THE ANSWERS TO THE FOLLOWING STATEMENTS...

1) The first change I would make in the school is: It will be 16 hours a day.
2) Three classes I would add to the program would be: dissiplin, How to have respect, and jokes that are funny. 3) Just for fun I would decorate my office by: Putting in my computer, and my TV.
4) I would add: spinach, gizzard, and liver to the cafeteria menu.
5) If a student were sent to my office for being bad, I would handle it by: shooting them with a bee-bee-gun.
6) The part I would like best about being principal would be: being mean.
7) The worst part of my job would be: being nice.
8) One thing all the students would agree upon is that I was the most: mean principal they have ever heard.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
WHAT FUN SITTING BEHIND THE PRINCIPAL'S DESK! I CAN HARDLY BELIEVE IT! I GET TO BE THE PRINCIPAL FOR THE WHOLE DAY!!! ONE OF THE VERY FIRST THINGS I PLAN TO DO AROUND HERE IS TO:
Tell the teacher to have more work. Then, put my computer in and start playing! Then, put my T.V. in. Put my "Do Not Disturb" sign on the door. Last, start relaxing on my chair. If anyone disturbs me, I FIRE THEM!!! the end.


I was hostile. I had an attitude. Give us back our crosswords and our seek-and-finds! Give us back our color crayons and safety scissors! I didn't want to grow up. What right did Miss Jurgens have, giving us a blank sheet of paper, expecting us to fill it up with words? I left my pages half-filled and incomplete. When Miss Jurgens told us that we had to fill the whole page, I wrote "THE END!" with letters that filled a quarter page. When Miss Jurgens gave us word counts, I subscribed to the "very" strategy (e.g.: Miss Jurgens is a very, very, very, very, very bad teacher). This attitude of mine persisted until parent-teacher conferences.


I won't get into the details of my punishment, but let's just say that--from then on--I was a changed young man. I promised my mom that I'd put some effort into my creative writing assignments. I promised my dad to turn in all of my assignments--on time. I promised Miss Jurgens that I'd have a talk with her after class.

I expected a reaming. She had me alone... no witnesses. Class was over and I stayed in my desk, hoping that Miss Jurgens had forgotten about the whole thing. She was wearing that blue dress with the blues scarf-thing around her neck with the blue pantyhose that inclined me to draw a picture of Miss Jurgens with a Smurf hat, holding hands with Papa and Brainy Smurf, in the Smurf Village, saying, "I'm Miss Jurgens, I'm a Smurf. La La La La La La..." I laughed.

"This isn't funny, Tony."
"Sorry."
"I am disappointed in you, Tony. Do you know why?"

Why? Where did she want me to start? She took away my bus-patrol badge for not turning in my homework. She made me eat lunch in the principal's office for the rest of the year for spitting out mashed potatoes and screaming, "Mad Dog! Mad Dog!" She made me stay indoors and write, "I will cooperate in the classroom by following the classroom rules" 200 times while the rest of the class went outside and saw the total solar eclipse. So, why did I disappoint her?

"Um... because I goof off?

"No..." Her voice was cold and monotone. Her sentences were short. Her raspberry-lipsticked lips puckered tight in between each of her rhythmic phrases. Before she started with another set of words, her lips smacked. I hated that smacking. She smacked, and continued. I cringed. "You have potential, Tony." Pucker--Smack. "But you fail to apply yourself." Pucker--Smack. "Pretty soon, Tony, you'll fall behind." Pucker--Smack. "I'd hate to see your talents wasted by your apathy."

I was able to pick out three words from that barrage of puckering and smacking: first, "apathy," because I had no idea what that word meant; second, "potential," because I knew that was a good thing and Miss Jurgens said I had it; third, "talent," because that made it sound like Miss Jurgens was complementing me! Wow! I had talent!

"I'm sorry."

I meant it this time. I felt an actual hurt inside. Poor Miss Jurgens could do nothing as her most talented student succumbed to this apathy thing and threw his talent away. She had to give "1's" to her mediocre students while here most talented student was only getting "3's." No way would I let her down again! I had potential! I had talent!

"I'll try harder, Miss Jurgens. I promise. I mean it this time."
"We'll see."

I tried harder, all right. My new me had its first literary task: to impress Miss Jurgens with an epic poem filled with flowery language flowing from within the strict syllable restraints of the cinquain poem. While I was at it, I figured that some blatant brown-nosing wouldn't hurt:

Miss Jurgens

Very nice, good teacher.

Smart, in Front, grateful, neat.

Loves fun things to do--I do too!!!

The best

x

She bought it! She hung the poem on the creative writing bulletin board. My work was showcased among Heather Colburn's poem about horses, Sarah Zimmer's poem about daises (with the words that swirled and curled to form a flower), and my best friend Matt Lasure's story about William "The Refrigerator" Perry. I felt dirty, though. I was a sell-out. I compromised my artistic integrity--my talent--for a cheap attempt to win over Miss Jurgens. That poem had to come down.

Months passed, and the poem stayed. It haunted me during social studies. I could see it in my peripheral vision during our sex education film strips. During heads-down time after lunch, I swore that I could see Miss Jurgens staring at it with that odd, crooked smile of hers. With that jet-black hair of hers against that powdered-pale face and that spooky raspberry grin and those glazed over, proud eyes staring and staring, that poem--that poem from hell--that hell poem... had to come down!

x

I wrote a brilliant concrete poem which was sure to take the place of the hell-poem on the wall. My words of world peace were wrapped around a picture of a nuclear missile headed from North America:

x

Let high hopes of peace flow in Earth. Please let peace ride in your own heart. That's good because war is very high and live on Earth is low.

x

I meant it this time. Nothing scared me more than the Cold War and nuclear bombs. Miss Jurgens had in her possession my first attempt of expressing my true emotions. It sounded so cool: "War is very high and life on Earth is low." I had no clue what it meant, but it sounded neat. The hell-poem had to be on its way down.

x

Nope.

x

I continued on my theme of world destruction for a journal assignment entitled, "Problems of the World." My guts poured out into what I thought was a powerful expose of the worlds' horrors, but ended up being a juvenile attempt to save the world:

x

I think having a nuclear war is the largest problem in the world. I also think that any kind of war is horrible. Also, pollution is a large problem. And murders, robberies, and rapes are a threat.

The nuclear war is a problem involving the U.S. and Russia, and other countries. Nuclear power is rushing up. But we are trying to make peace with Russia. So far we met to talk to the Russian leaders.

Also, pollution is a large problem. This leads to acid rain. Acid rain leads to the death of fish and plants. We should try to invent pollution-free cars and factories. We should make smoking illegal.

Lastly, we should put commercials out telling people not to rape people and don't rob. We should have announcements that say don't walk alone at night.

x

I learned how to start with a thesis statement, then follow with supporting paragraphs. I learned how to link my paragraphs with words like, "also," and "lastly." Despite its silliness in retrospect, this was a landmark occasion. I had learned the concept of a structured paper.

My hard work didn't pay off. Screw the structured paper. That poem was still on the wall.

For my next assignment, I wrote a (sort of) haiku about horses. Heather Colburn had her horse poem up on the wall, so maybe the horse thing could work out for me. This time, I was on a mission: I tried to capture a real rhythm, I was struggling for the right words, I played with the rhyming sounds of "plain" and "mane." I found myself falling in love with the writing process as a whole. A picture of a horse, rabbit, and snake in a forest, drawn with my best color pencils accompanied my best cursive writing:

x

Horse

Running in--

The Plain, fast

Hooves and a long

Mane. some are

graceful--some--

Wild.

x

I meant it this time. The hell-poem came down.

Thinking about it now, I suspect that Miss Jurgens knew my ulterior motive behind the hell-poem. She knew it was crap, and she knew that I hated it. Perhaps I am giving Miss Jurgens too much credit in this matter of the hell-poem. Maybe it seems too perfect of a plan for a fifth-grade teacher. In any case, knowingly or not, she showed me how disappointing my writing had become by hanging my most pathetic effort upon a wall reserved for greatness. She displayed my lies on that wall so I could become more honest in my writing. Miss Jurgens showed me my worst so I could create my best.

Why haven't you posted? What have you been up to.. besides being laid off? Oh, refuting one of the more popular interpretations of the Republic??

(copyright 2005, Anthony Selbitschka)

Taken at face value, Plato’s Republic would seem to promote a totalitarian state based upon a pessimistic view of humanity. Granted, Plato does build a repressive city in his Republic, but his endorsing such a creation should not be assumed too hastily as the actual interpretation of the Republic seems to be as controversial as its contents. This controversy can be traced to the fact that Plato chooses to use the character of Socrates as his main orator. Should we equate what Socrates says to be what Plato believes or endorses? One of the most widely held interpretations suggests that yes, we should hold the Republic as Plato’s recommendation of his ideal city—no matter how loathsome and pessimistic it seems. While it is no surprise that this is one of the most popular views—as we are trained to take what an author writes to be what an author believes—this interpretation has been criticized as being shortsighted. I will take this interpretation and critically evaluate it against three major themes in the Republic: the treatment of the arts, the noble lie, and the definition of the true philosopher.

To properly educate the guardians of Kallipolis, Socrates turns a critical eye towards the arts, beginning with the stories told to children:

So our first task… is to supervise the storytellers: if they make up a good story, we must accept it; if not, we must reject it. We will persuade nurses and mothers to tell the acceptable ones… Many of the stories they tell now, however, must be thrown out. (377c)

Socrates then lists his banned stories: stories containing falsehoods (377d), misrepresentations of the gods (379d), stories that promote the fear of death (386c) or the view that death is a terrible thing (387d), depictions of intemperance (390a) and money-loving (390e). While anyone living in a free society should cringe at this overt censorship, Socrates would argue that such censorship is needed to protect the minds of the future guardians. For each item censored, Socrates argues that the guardian scholar would sponge up the depicted behavior and be less suited for his task. So far this portion of the Republic supports the interpretation that Plato has a pessimistic view of human learning (we are all sponges—slaves to innuendo) while building an oppressive government to protect the people from themselves.
At 395c, Socrates narrows his scope to the styles of art which should be banned—specifically, how imitation should be handled:

…Our guardians must be kept away from all other crafts so as to be the most exact craftsmen of the city’s freedom, and practice nothing at all except what contributes to this, then they must neither do nor imitate anything else. But if they imitate anything, they must imitate…what is appropriate for them…people who are courageous, temperate, pious, free… On the other hand, they must not…imitate illiberal or shameful actions, so that they won’t acquire a taste for the real thing…

To this end, Socrates is forced to ban the imitation of shameful and illiberal characters in art. While this seems that Plato is taking another step toward endorsing a more oppressive government, let’s pause a moment and question if Plato would really support all the censoring in Books 2 and 3. Notice that the Republic itself is an imitation of a dinner conversation. Also note that the very beginning of Book 1 begins with Socrates’ narration describing this dinner, so what we have is an imitation of an imitation! Now, a character such as the money-loving Cephalus could be viewed as a non-ideal character to be imitated… so, wouldn’t the Republic itself be banned under its own rules? Even if the Republic’s banning is not obvious, perhaps Plato’s Phaedo—which portrays Socrates’ death as a terrible thing—would be. Why would Plato endorse a government in which his own art would be disallowed? We must look further into the Republic to see if this is either an oversight by Plato or if it discredits Plato’s overall endorsement of Socrates’ totalitarian city.

After setting up his city’s hierarchy, Socrates must find a way to make the auxiliaries and craftsmen accept the rule of the guardians. At 414b, Socrates suggests “a single, noble lie” that would allow all members to know his place in society with unquestioning acceptance. The proposed lie is that all citizens were born from the earth. Some citizens were made of gold (guardians), some silver (auxiliaries), and some bronze (craftsmen). Since all citizens come from the same mother, a sense of love and loyalty to all members of the city and the city itself will be ingrained in each member. This creates a specialization or division of labor where the best people assume the highest positions in society, while the bronze members happily accept their positions as their work will help provide the overall good of the city. While Socrates builds his city upon a seemingly unstable foundation of lies, he believes that this lie only needs to be told to one generation—as the inertia of tradition should make the lie an unquestioned truth for future generations (415e). Before moving on, let us note Socrates’ statement at 459d, “…It looks as though our rulers will have to employ a great many lies and deceptions for the benefit of those they rule.” These noble lies seem to further endorse an oppressive government founded upon the ruler’s lying to its subjects… but how does this fit in with the Republic’s definition of the true philosopher?

In his discussion of the philosopher-kings, Socrates begins to define the true philosopher at 485b:

…Let’s agree that they love all of [learning] and are not willing to give up any part, whether large or small, significant or insignificant… they must never willingly tolerate falsehood in any form. On the contrary, they must hate it and have a natural affection for the truth… So, right from childhood, a genuine lover of learning must strive above all for truth of every kind.

How could a philosopher-king—defined as a seeker of all truths and hating falsehoods—rule a city built upon a noble lie? What would this philosopher-king do when given the burden of telling falsehoods “for the benefit of those they rule?” Take this a step further. How can Socrates—a philosopher—suggest the noble lie if he is to be considered a philosopher? How could Plato—who we also consider a philosopher—write about a lie’s being noble if this definition is to be upheld?
As we read the Republic today, we must consider that it is a modern translation of an ancient scroll written by a philosopher who assumes the role of Socrates who gives a narration of his account of a dinner party. (Compare this to the party-game of “telephone,” where you start with a sentence, whisper it in a partner’s ear, that person whispers it in his neighbor’s ear, and so forth… At the end, the resulting sentence is totally unrelated to the original.) In other words, not only is the Republic wide open to interpretation, it is nearly impossible to interpret it without head-scratching, contradictions, and a bit of self-doubt. We can only guess what Plato’s motives were—but the face-value interpretation that equates Socrates’ word as Plato’s may be short sighted. To assume Socrates’ city is endorsed by Plato without first critically evaluating the text in comparison to the interpretation is a mistake. Personally, I think that Plato couldn’t have endorsed Kallipolis based on the aforementioned contradictions. As a philosopher, he couldn’t build a city upon a lie. As an artist, he couldn’t have censored his own craft. What was he doing then? Perhaps he was setting up an arena in which he could discuss democracy, philosophy, and the Forms. Unfortunately, I have to be a bit like Socrates here—I’ll tear down a theory without offering one to replace it

Summer Music Vol. 2

Another beautiful day in Minnesota… another perfect summertime CD. YOU KNOW WHERE YOU ARE????



GUNS 'N' ROSES- APPETITE FOR DESTRUCTION
1987

The song is Paradise City. Enough said. It may be because the video was filmed during a summertime rock festival—or perhaps it was Axl Rose’s white suit—or maybe it’s ‘cause the song just plain RAWKS—whatever reason, this is my #1 summertime song. It’s a wonderful mixture of Foghat/Skynyrd classic rocking with a dingy late-80’s L.A. attitude. The lyrics are sung so nasty, the rhythm is so gritty, and the solos are so intense. Paradise City will forever be upon every “summertime mix” that I compile—but the rest of the CD is awesome too.

Start at the beginning. Welcome to the Jungle, yo. It’s been almost 20 years since it’s been written, but the song still serves as an incredible intro to a rockin’ time (note that the NFL still uses it for kickoffs—and it is not even close to being tired). Follow that with classics such as Mr. Brownstone, Night Train, Anything Goes, Rocket Queen… screw it—EVERY song is a classic.

Now, the other single, Sweet Child of Mine, is perfection in the way it’s pretty enough for the girls and rockin’ enough for the guys. Axl sounds sweet and nasty at the same time. Slash switches from a bluesy-sweet melody to a fuzzed-wha solo that builds and builds to a great climax. It’s no power ballad…

Guns ‘n’ Roses is in top form here--pretty rare for a debut album. Slash’s manipulation of blues and pentatonic scales are masterful as Izzy Stradlin' adds the perfect compliment on rhythm guitar. The bass and drums are solid while Axl Rose’s bipolar high-pitched shrieking vs. bottom-dwelling crooning serves as great frontmanship. Too bad it didn’t last. If you notice the songs' themes of drugs, booze, burning out, and getting all that you want—you can tell that the band was going to fizzle out fast. Usually songs about excess and burning out on drugs come after a band hits it big. Guns ‘n’ Roses started out living fast—so the fact that Appetite for Destruction was their only good album is not much of a surprise.

With that said, Appetite for Destruction will always remain in my top 5 best albums EVER list. With no “throw away” songs, with a unique mix of classic rock and modern attitude (with a hint of glam), with the absolute genius of Slash’s guitar, Appetite is an instant classic. The fact that Paradise City and other festival-esque songs fill each side of the cassette (okay… it’s a CD nowadays) makes it the ultimate summertime album.

Summer Music Vol. 1

Alright kids! It's springtime in Minnesota, you know what that means! Dust off those CD's designated for driving around with the windows down on sunny summer days! Some CD's truely capture the essence of summer--and my installments of Summer Music will celebrate these disks--after I get done listening to them in my car, of course.


Metallica-Kill 'Em All (1983)

Let's get something out right away--I do NOT like Metallica... nope, not one bit. As far as I am concerned, Metallica is the single most overrated metal band in existence. With that said, Kill 'Em All is oh, so good.

As I was learning guitar way back in the day (early 90's), I was in need of a guitar hero. After a long search across the Satrianis, Vais, Hammetts, Skolnicks, and Slashes, I heard Rust In Peace by Megadeth. So used to the chuck-ka-kunk chord-laiden riff-heavy songs of Metallica, the flurry of single-noted riffs and solos made the posters of Dave Mustaine permanent fixtures on my bedroom walls.

Now, understand that one cannot be a true fan of Metallica and Megadeth at the same time. It's like the Red Sox and the Yankees or Kobe and Shaq--you just can't like 'em both. It's been written. I was a Mustaine/Megadeth fan, so by law I had to be anti-Metallica. (please keep in mind that this was prior to the ultra-cruddy Countdown to Extinction which later forced me to rip down the aforementioned Mustaine posters)

But I digress....

Megadeth's Dave Mustaine, as many of you know, was a contributing member of Metallica way back in the day--right up until they were ready to record this album. Mustaine was outed, and (the hack) Kirk Hammett joined the band in time for the recording. As a result, Mustaine's presence can still be heard in Kill 'Em All (especially since Hammett shamelessly ripped off Mustaine's solos). So it's more of a Metalli-gadeth CD than a true Metallica CD (therefore, I am allowed to like it).

So... back to summer! The attitude of this CD (back in the day, it was a cassette) is summer epitomized. The recording is cruddy--but cool--almost punk-rock. The tempo throughout is fast and unrelenting. The musicianship is tight--but raw enough to be fun and garage-esque. Lyrically, it stinks! But it's fun! C'mon... 4 Horsemen? Getting Whiplash from headbanging? "No Life 'Till Leather?" What the? Yeah! This is a band on the verge of making their mark on the music scene and setting the bar oh, so high (maybe so high that they'd never top it... but many Metallica fans would disagree with me).

Now for a word on Cliff Burton, the Best. Metal. Bassist. Ever. With this CD alone, Burton shows the scene that a metal bassist doesn't have to settle for riding the roots of the guitarists' power chords. No! He can ride the forefront with interesting melodic twists of the song's theme. For some reason Burton's idea never took off, as metal bassists have always been and continue to be boring afterthoughts. Kill 'Em All is a reminder of what Burton left behind after dying a few years later. (Metallica would never, ever, write another good song without him).

All in all, Kill 'Em All is fast, fun, and Metal! Yes, note the "with a capital 'M'." Roll down your windows, crank it up, pump your fists, and let it take you back to a time when metal--and Metallica--were actually good. SUMMER... HERE I COME!

Rating ******* outta 8.

NERD ALERT!

FYI... the newest Episode III trailer is available at starwars.com



and let me tell you..... huhuhuhuhuhuh.... wow.

May 19th, boys and girls... not that I am getting my hopes up or anything (considering the lackluster Episodes I and II, plus Howard the Duck always will haunt my memory).

Doctor Tony to the ER, Doctor Tony to the ER...

You’ve seen the clichéd scene in a zillion medical dramas: the doctor has an emotional attachment to his dying patient. After the patient flatlines, the doc orders the defibulators… and:

“Clear!”… beeeeeeeeeeeeeeep. “Clear!!” ….. Beeeeeep! “Clear!” ….. Beeeeeeep.

“Doctor, it’s over!”

“Clear!” …. Beeeeeeeep.

“Doctor!”

“Clear!….. Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.”

“Doctor… let go. It’s OVER! We lost him!”

“Clear!….. Beeeeeep!”

“Doctor!”

Well, I am the doctor, and my Wolfies are the patient. I need some nurse to tell me it’s over. I have the defibulator paddles in hand, but I need someone to slap my face and tell me to let go. After yesterday’s loss to the Mav’s—considering the Nuggets’ recent surge—beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.

Midtermmmmms.

Me writnig midterms. 4 big papers due all at once. Wuz sick with flu last week. now tired and have lots to do at last minute.... Tony want sleepy. Tony want sleepy...

(just an FYI as to my why my site hasn't been updated...)

THE CURRENT

Way back in the day, I loved to listen to 104 FM for their wonderfully selected “alt” music. They went under due to a format change to smooth jazz or something. “REV” 105 sprung up soon afterwards—providing me with a fresh, fun, interesting playlist that was NEVER THE SAME (i.e.: not formatted). Like all good things, the REV came to an end and I switched over to talk radio or my own CD mixes for my in-car listening.

I heard from a classmate of mine that a new REV was on the air in the Twin Cities—complete with the same REV 105 DJ’s that I used to enjoy 10 years ago. It’s called “The Current” and it’s on 89.3 FM.

After class, I removed my General Patton vs. the X-ecutioners CD (see review below) from my CD player and turned my radio to FM (something I haven’t done in YEARS) to give The Current a shot. I was given a good 3-song mix of musicians I haven’t heard of, but I wish I had—as they were neat songs that I actually enjoyed. Granted, the next couple songs were crappy folk songs—but all in all, I was digging this FM radio station!

Then it happened. The DJ did his best PBS telethon impression and begged me for money. Wha? Turns out that The Current is a part of Minnesota Public Radio. Ewwwwwwwwww! What, you realize that your music is too obscure to sell advertising—so you give up and start begging? I went back to my CD.

Before cable, I really enjoyed PBS. I loved the documentaries on bugs, rainforests, and volcanoes. But after cable became more available, I realized (and the smart programmers realized) that Discovery Channels, Animal Channels, Bravo, etc. could exist, create a niche, AND sell advertising BECAUSE of the specialized niche that this channel created. (This is when I stopped watching PBS.) It’s advertising 101 here, folks. This is why magazines can exist for super-specialized topics. Basket Weaver Enthusiast Magazine can thrive because all the suppliers of wicker know exactly where to put their advertising money. Why can’t radio do the same? Sell your space to the alt-crowd. Sell ads to the Electric Fetus, PETA, local clubs, Ragstock, women’s razors, whatever. Well, maybe not women’s razors… the alt crowd isn’t known for its hygiene. If the ads don’t sell, move to satellite radio! Find a niche there!

So, I looked at the financial reports of MPR (they don’t divulge much, though). Our government “only” provides 11% of MPR’s budget. 11% of what? I don’t know, the website didn’t say, but it is a $10 million radio station. That’s not the point, though. Government funding for radio should be 0%--and until The Current is 100% donation/advertising funded, I won’t listen. Oh well. Back to my CD mixes and AM radio. At least I can guarantee that Ani DiFranco will never show up on those.

Wolfies Alien-ated for the rest of the season...

thanks to my friend Mike for the pic!

So, there goes the trade deadline... the Wolfies are apparently happy with Spree, Sam, and T-Hud to lead the team to the promised land. Alright guys, let's see whatcha got. Not much, I suppose, as I see that they lost to the L.A. CLIPPERS last night. "Owwwwcccchhhhh..."

Got Answers?

My wife called me up today with the all-important information, "I just drank milk today." This is actually news, you see, as we aren't a milk-drinking family. Turns out she purchased something called "2% reduced fat" milk, which begged the question:

If you reduce the fat of 2% milk, isn't that 1%?

So, being the dork that I am, I did some research.



Turns out that way back in 1998, the FDA made milk companies follow the same packaging guidelines as all other food products. So from then on (according to the FDA's website) :

2 percent milk will become known, for example, as "reduced fat" or "less fat" instead of "low fat"
1 percent milk will remain "low fat" or become, for example, "little fat"
skim will retain its name or be called, for example, fat-free, zero-fat, or no-fat milk.

So the confusion started because the "reduced" in "2% reduced fat" refers to milk qua milk--not 2% in itself. Hmmmm. So the fattest milk you can get (besides whole milk) is now called "reduced fat?" Confusing, huh.

Also notice that 1% is now "low fat" and skim is now "fat free."

Now the question is: WHY? Is the FDA that bored? Just a thought for the day.

Bonds--The Great Philosopher?

My apologies to those who haven't read Plato or who didn't see the Barry Bonds press conference yesterday. If you want to see the actual transcript (you can't make it up!) : http://sports.espn.go.com/mlb/news/story?id=1997605


Barry Bonds or Plato... who is the greater Philosophical mind?

Man, what a great show Barry Bonds gave the sports world yesterday afternoon. Not since Bill Clinton have I heard a more slippery press conference. It's amazing how this athlete could turn direct questions about steroids and cheating in baseball into an upper-level philosophy of language college course. The press conference was almost surreal... it read just like one of Plato's dialogs:

Pressimicus: Barry, did you use steroids?

Bondscrates: Use? How do you mean, use?

P: I don't follow, please enlighten me, Bondscrates.

B: Would you say that an archer uses his arm or his arrow?

P: Naturally, he uses his arrow.

B: Would it follow, then, that a fisherman uses his rod and not his wrist?

P: Surely.

B: So then, it can be concluded that I use my bat and not steroids, correct?

P: Yes. I suppose so.

B: Would you say, then, that I use steroids, Pressimicus?

P: Heavens, no! You merely use your bat.

B: Any other questions?

Pressicles: Bondscrates, would injecting yourself with a performance enhancing substance be considered cheating?

B: Cheating? What is cheating?

P: I don't follow.

B: Is it cheating for a shoemaker to use a hammer instead of his bare hands?

P: Of course not.

B: Is it cheating for a horseman to use a saddle rather than to ride bareback?

P: No.

B: Is it cheating then, for a batsman to use a tool to augment his bat?

P: It follows that it is certainly not cheating to do so, wise Bondscrates.

B: Would you call performance enhancing substances a tool?

P: Yes.

B: So it would follow, then, my dear Pressicles, that it is not cheating to use performance enhancing substances to augment my batting.

P: You are as wise as you are beefy, my dear Bondscrates!

B: Any other inquiries from my audience?

Pressistotle: Are you going to beat the Babe's record?

B: Let me ask you this: Am I a black man?

P: Wha? Where did that come from?

AND SO FORTH....

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE!!

DO IT NOW! PLEASE!

Just as long as we don't get rid of too much... (Wally must stay! Did I just write that??) But Cassell really needs to go (under McHale, I am scared to see what happens when Sammy replaces Carter). If Sammy turns his attitude around like Spree proved possible, who knows, maybe a trade isn't necessary.


Also: Let it be known that it looks like McHale has turned the team around (for now, at least). BUT it still sucks that professionals stopped listening to a great coach. Good luck to Flip. Good luck to the Kevins. Hopefully Spree has "figured it out." Hopefully Kandi can keep it up. Feels good so far... but it's only a couple games.

Valentine's Day.... TONY! WHAT IS BEST IN LIFE? (WARNING... I am feeling sentimental)

My wife bought me the Dukes Of Hazzard 1st season on DVD for Valentine's Day. This made me think, boy... how friggin' lucky am I to have such a wonderful woman (who appreciates great works of art such as the Duke boys) as my wife. This got me thinking of what is best in life... so like Conan the Barbarian, I will answer this with a list.



Well, besides crushing your enemies, seeing them driven before you, and hearing the lamentation of da women...

-Sunday mornings with paper, coffee and a custard bismarck

-Screaming in the stands at a playoff NBA game

-Seeing KG do his slo-mo 'raise the roof' motion to get Target Center "hype"

-Mike Patton singing I Started A Joke

-Al Green singing anything

-Slow dancing to Al Green

-Being able to stay up late enough to catch Conan

-Pounding the shoreline with buzzbaits for bass

-Seeing/hearing the "BAAAM" opening of Star Wars (right after the "a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away" in the theater

-Edie Brickell singing Oak Cliff Bra

-Fall in Stillwater with color-changed leaves

-A box of Krispy Kremes--hot

-Getting the 7-letter bonus in a game of Scrabble

-Hitting a jumpshot/making a layup (very rare for me)

-Fruity Pebbles--soggy

- Grandma's spaghetti

-Feeling a bass hit a Rattlin' Rapala

-Hiking in the Grand Tetons

-Kirosawa movies

-Hot toast, butter, peanut butter--melty (with a coffee chaser)

-Tuna-buns (1/2 hamburger buns, tuna w/mayo, cheese, onions, toasted in oven)

-Winning an Ebay auction

-Slayer's Raining Blood when it gets to the "Chuck Kunk Chuck Kunk Chuck Kunk" part

-Road trips out west

-Seeing the Descendents LIVE

-Enjoying all of the above with my wife (awwwwwwwwww)

WTF?

What happened this weekend?

Okay, I can see how it's a coach's job to motivate his players--but what can you do when your players are unwilling to be motivated? What can you do when your GM can't pull off a desperately needed trade to rid your team of those who are bringing it down? I know... make the GM coach!




Hello. I will save the team. Coaching experience? Wha? I better buy more ugly sweaters!

Go Kevin! You want to coach these underachievers? Go for it. You want to play SMASHMOUTH basketball? Good luck getting Spree and Sam to play with an ounce of energy. You want to slow it down and pass the ball? Good luck getting T-Hud to not jack up a missed three. I dunno... I don't like it. I asked my boss how he'd like it if he were fired as I sat around with my feet on my desk while ignoring his demands that I get off my ass and get to work. He told me to shut up and get to work.

I had some problems with Flip this year, but the problems I had with Troy, Sam, and Spree far outweighed any blame that I could find on the coach. I heard SO many pre-game interviews where Saunders would lay out a good gameplan--only to watch the game and see the players totally ignoring the gameplan for their own "selfish" agendas.

The NBA sucks this year: the brawl, my Wolfies, McHale coaching my team, inmates ruling the asylum. Hopefully I am overreacting, but so far I am getting sick of my favorite sport. Oh well, at least I have the Heat. At least Kobe's Lakers are losing.

WHAT WAS IN MY CAR

GENERAL PATTON vs. THE X-ECUTIONERS (2005)




Another few months, another new Mike Patton CD! This time, "General" Patton has teamed up with "The X-Ecutioners," a strictly DJ-only group outta New York City. So, what do you get when you cross experimental masters of turntables with an experimental master of vocal chords? Hmmm... A lot of fun hip-hoppin' scratchin' and crooning... but also a bit too much noise.

Mike Patton has to be one of the most brilliant artists in modern music--but he's also one of the most frustrating. I did enjoy his most recent ultra-experimental Delirium Cordia with Fantomas and his Romances with Kaada (see review on this site)... BUT I still find myself longing for some more basic music from Patton. I am not saying that I want Faith No More to rejoin (that project was ready to end), but I do need something from Patton to bring it all back to Earth.

As an album, General Patton vs. The X-ecutioners may be considered a war-time concept album, as it feels like the theme of fighting, 'xplosions, and sonic warfare pop up throughout the album. Like a war movie, the dark, dirty fields are contrasted with heroic--almost beautiful--moments of brilliance.

Now, when GPvsTX are at their best, it is brilliant stuff. The DJ's put together some really interesting beats and samples while Patton swoons his patented crooning/screaming/growling over the mix. When Patton isn't singing, you'll find him in the back of the mix creating some of the coolest noises you'll hear a human voice make. In fact, it is sometimes a struggle to pick out what is Patton and what is a turntable. Songs like, "!Get Up Punk!" and "Loser on Line" make the CD worth the $14... but they are also so worthwhile that they make the rest of the CD a bit frustrating.

When GPvsTX are at their worst, you'll hear them experiment with an arsenal of improvisational noise, movie samples, and changes in beat, tempo, and theme that are so rapid-fire, you just can't "get into it." While Patton is known to challenge the listener's mind and patience with his music, I just don't know if it works with the genre of Hip-Hop, as "getting into" the beat is what it's all about. Don't get me wrong, 100% of this CD is interesting, but it can get old. While Kaada and Fantomas tried my patience, I never thought it as random. When you apply Patton's A.D.D. music theory to DJ's instead of musicians, it seems that it's merely button-pushing instead of performing (I know, I know... DJ's don't merely push buttons--and they could be considered performers... but I still get that feeling).

When I read about this project with The X-ecutioners, I did expect the experimental sound that is found on many of the tracks (23 tracks on this CD, but only a handful of full-fledged "songs"). The spaces in between "songs" are interesting, indeed--full of fun samples of obscure Kung-Fu movies, Latin Jazz, Funk, and even Star Wars blaster fire. Problem is, the actual pieces that could be considered true "songs" are SO EFFING GOOD that they might make listeners wish that all the tracks were this way. It's funny that they sample many Kung-Fu scenes in this disk, as listening to the disk is kind of like watching a Kung-Fu movie--you daze through the dialog while thinking, "Why don't they just fight already?!" General Patton vs. The X-ecutioners follow suit: they work the noise so long you find yourself thinking, "KICK IN A COOL SONG ALREADY!" But, to keep the analogy going, their 'fighting' is so cool, you never take the CD out of the player during the slow parts just in case there's another 'battle' in 'em.

So I rate this CD the same I rate the best Jackie Chan movie--Boy the fight scenes are awesome... but the dialog can be a drag. But... those fight scenes! You GOTTA see 'em!

Also funny to note, there should be a new CD from Patton's Fantomas around April. The guy makes me feel like such a slacker.

Rating ***** outta 8.

Sorry Wolves, My Bad.

I received a poster in the mail a while back from Kevin Garnett. It's a poster of KG raising his arm in his "Yo, I just made a MF shot, MF, get outta your MF seats, MF! LET'S GET HYPE! LET'S GET HYYYPPPE!" way. Anyway, this poster says:

"Anthony, Thanks for being part of our team! --KG"

Wow. I told my boss that as soon as I get my paycheck from my new team, consider that my 2 weeks notice. Well, the check hasn't come yet, but I am expecting it soon. I am part of the team.

Unfortunately, my team seems to be in the worst season since T-Wolves B.K. (Before Kevin). Looking at what changed between the franchise's most successful season (last year) to their most disappointing (this year) I couldn't find any changes! We have the same roster as last year (not counting the upgrade from Trent to Griffin), we have the same coaches, the same GM...

...IS IT... ME?

In fact, ever since I received the poster confirming my place on the team, the Wolves started their major slide. Hmmm... sorry guys. I know that team chemistry can change with one bad apple--but hey, it's not my fault that everyone is so jealous of my skillz. I could quit to save the season, I suppose... but I need my paycheck (I have a family to feed) and that's that.

So sorry, Wolves fans (anyone left out there?)... My bad.

100 years of Ayn Rand

Today marks the 100th year since Ayn Rand's birth in St. Petersburg, Russia (Feb. 2, 1905). If you want her full bio, I recommend the DVD Ayn Rand: A Sense of Life. In a nutshell, Ayn Rand escaped Russia, came to the USA, wrote some great fiction, and developed her controversial philosophy--Objectivism.

Now, there is a cliched attitude towards those who have read The Fountainhead and Atlas Shrugged. We all turn into arrogant jerks for a year or so, then we forget it and move out of the "phase." It's that I'm-a-sophomore-in-college-know-it-all-better-than-you mentality that seems to rub some people the wrong way. I was guilty of this--I did cop a huge attitude back in the day. I dropped the attitude, but I never did "grow out of" the ideals that Rand sparked.

In a time when fiction was dominated by Naturalistic stories about the common man (how man is), The Fountainhead showed us a Romantic hero in Howard Roark (how man should be). In a time when socialism was sneaking its way into America's politics, Atlas Shrugged showed us what would happen if our economy's "prime movers" shrugged and took a vacation. In a time when subjectivism was the popular philosophy in our universities, Rand's nonfiction offered an objective view in ethics (The Virtue of Selfishness), epistemology/metaphysics (Philosophy: Who Needs It?), economics (Capitalism: The Unknown Ideal) and aesthetics (The Romantic Manifesto).

But really, Ayn Rand gave us an ideal for which to strive. I didn't merely admire her characters, I wanted to be more like them. I didn't just read through her philosophy, I wanted to integrate it into my own. If you haven't read her novels, I recommend them highly as they can be enjoyed on the surface as "good reads." Her writing is precise and entertaining. Her storytelling is vivid and interesting. If you don't feel the need to go too deep into the philosophy behind the story--they are great as works of fiction on their own.

To check out an "online exhibit" and bio: http://aynrand100.org

To check out her writing (in a new 100 year aniversary edition), here's Amazon's selection:

http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/search-handle-url/index=books&field-author=Ayn%20Rand/103-2810972-4246234

RIP Johnny Carson

Just wanted to give my goodbye to Johnny Carson. At 29 years, I am old enough to remember watching him, but young enough to remember what a treat it was being able to stay up late enough to watch him. The funny moments were even funnier to a kid staying up way past his bedtime!

What Was In My Car....

MASTODON- LEVIATHAN (2004)

Very, very few metal albums are true "winners" for me on the first listen. Usually it takes a few times through to remember the catches, anticipate the changes, and to find the grooves. I had Mastodon in the car for the first time on the way to work this morning and I can't wait for the ride home's second listen. It is really... REALLY good.

First of all, check out the album cover. Nuthin' cooler than a big Moby Dick smashing a big ol' boat. Yeah!

More importantly, the music is aggressive, tight, and wonderfully interesting. I thought of it as Hemispheres/Farewell to Kings-era Rush done in a modern metal-style. Like Rush, Mastodon features a thematic album with epic songs that weave melody, pounding rhythms with changing tempos and time signatures (only Mastodon does it with an extreme-metal edge). Each song features insanely complex drumming, guitars that switch from textural runs to percussive chords, and solid bass. The singing is the genre's typical growling, but a couple songs feature a lighter, more melodic attack.

Moments are harsh or brutal--others catch a fantastic groove. Mastodon takes the listener through extreme changes in tone, mood, and tempo without warning--but not without meaning or structure. Unlike genre-sharers The Dillinger Escape Plan, Mastadon's quirkiness never seems random.

If Rush were the prog-rock kings of the 70's, Mastodon may be crowned prog-metal kings of today if subsequent releases live up to the potential set by Leviathan.

(early) Rating: ******* outta 8.

ALSO IN MY CAR THIS WEEKEND:


Church of Misery-- Master of Brutality (2001)

Church of Misery can be labeled as Doom Metal or Stoner Metal, but I prefer to label them as Groove Metal (mostly because I don't want to be associated with Stoners or the Doomed). Yeah, the pace is very slow and the low-toned, fuzzed guitar and bass slog about like the typical Doomed/Stoned Metalers--BUT these guys seem to have a genuine enthusiasm hidden behind their murky music. I would describe Church of Misery as Black Sabbath tuned down, turned up, overdriven, and crossed with the grooviest Skynyrd riffs that you could emulate. It's low, loud, and it rawks. It could also be said that Church of Misery is the best Doom Metal band to ever come out of Japan (although, I dare you to name any outta Japan!).

Master of Brutality, unfortunately, has a different serial killer as the theme of each song (except for the cover of Blue Oyster Cult's Cities on Flame With Rock 'N' Roll). Thankfully (this can serve as my sweeping statement about all metal) the screaming vocals hide the lyrics. I never noticed the subject until I saw the song titles.

Overall, the musicianship is solid, yet unpolished (to be too polished would ruin the mood!) The guitars are soooo raw, fuzzy, and overdriven--it's just a blast to hear every riff crush and crunch against the cymbal-happy, solid drumming. Also, let me say that a bass through a fuzzed amp and a wah-pedal gives one of the best sounds heard on Earth.

With only 6 songs, Master of Brutality could be an EP, but the songs range from 4 to 11 minutes in length--so it's not short at all. It should also be said that after 6 songs, I was ready for it to be over. Too much of the same thing--no matter how awesome--gets old. These guys are slow, loud, and groovy--and so proud of this that they don't change from song to song (not that they should). I did find myself wandering in and out of interest during the slower songs, but my ADD only lasted a few minutes as a new groove here or there sparked new interest.

Church of Misery is an excellent addition to any car trip soundtrack as it welcomes many steering-wheel drum fills and stick-shift guitar picking.

Rating: ****** outta 8.