Cross Town Rival

Groundless Predictions, 2010 Vancouver Winter Olympics Edition

2010-02-28T19:44:00.001-05:00

What’s that? Is that the sound of snot flying from off the face of an exhausted cross country skier? No! It’s groundless predictions, Winter Olympics edition!

Even as the Olympic flame in Vancouver begins to flicker and fade like a forced metaphor for life in a tear-jerking romantic comedy, our eyes turn to the future, to the next Winter Olympiad four years away in a Russian town that, since it has never been a setting for a Bond film, we have never heard of.

With an eye to the future and beyond, here are groundless predictions post Vancouver games.
The 2010 games also saw athletes breaking new ground in their sports, notably figure skaters performing jumps once thought impossible and female figure skaters lifting their male partners with increasing regularity.

In the coming years, figure skaters will continue pushing the boundaries of their sport. At Sochi in 2014, pairs skaters will be allowed to jump through hoops of fire as part of their routine, and in 2018, an enterprising Estonian female skater will bring a trash bag full of poisonous snakes and used needles onto the ice as part of her routine.

Inspired by the newfound success of the US Nordic Combined team and hoping to end northern dominance of winter sports, many southern states will mandate that their school systems add ski jumping and cross country skiing to their middle school physical education curriculum.

Most will adopt to the change poorly, building wobbly, unstable wooden ski jump ramps atop condemned Dairy Queen stores and installing awkwardly large tread mills inside cafeteria freezers as a means for students to practice their skiing.

While unduly expensive and more than a little dangerous (a montage of awkward tweens skiing off the ramps into soggy pits of discarded Blizzards will become a YouTube sensation), the program will bring great success, with Johnny Ray Wilcox of Denton, Texas sweeping the Nordic Combined events at 2022 Milwaukee games, the 2026 Dubai games and the 2030 Antarctic games.

In a completely unrelated story, 2030 will also mark the death knell of America’s competitiveness in a wide array of sports, including soccer, basketball, tennis, dodge ball and floor hockey.

The rise of Americans in Nordic Combined as well as their record number of medals won at the Vancouver games will lead to an outcry in those countries traditionally dominant in winter sports. In 2011, a group of European sportologists (in 2011, that will be a real word) will convene a secret meeting beneath a Norwegian fjord to begin creating and popularizing new winter sports that Europeans will be able to dominate.

While some will fail to catch on (most non-starters will feature athletes performing amazing feats of strength in cable knit sweaters), several will be introduced at the 2018 Helsinki games, including Flanger-Luge, which will be contested on the luge run but will use a block of cheese instead of a sled, and Flook-Ball, which combines the fast-paced excitement of team handball with a 42-lbs curling stone.

But the most popular new sport by far will be Ursa-Ski, where competitors will ski the downhill run while riding on the back of a live polar bear, who will also be wearing skis. This event will be dominated by Norwegian Jens Johnsrud Flarkenskroom for more than a decade under his tragic-yet-completely-foreseeable death in the jaws of his polar bear Moop-Moop.

Beyond creating new sports, Olympic officials will seek to make other events more competitive, including attempts to limit the transcendent power of Shaun White in snowboard halfpipe.

White will be forced to cut his hair in the hopes that doing so will take away his power, just as it did for the biblical hero Samson. Officials will also limit the height competitors are allowed to fly outside the half pipe by hanging a rack of iron spikes and poorly-fed alligators above the pipe’s edge.

Oh, and one important note. After the 2030 Antarctic games, there’ll be no more ice left on the planet, so all winter games after that will take place in the vacuum of space. See you on the Moon in 2034!

Intrepid Rock Journalism: Nero

2009-07-16T11:47:00.004-04:00

Author's Note: The story below was published in the July 16, 2009 edition of Fredericksburg's monolith of news and information, The Free Lance-Star. To view the article on their site, visit this link. For more information about the artist Nero, visit his site here.

When Faisal Hasan walked into work at Merrill Lynch one morning last December, he could tell that something was wrong. As it turned out, layoffs were coming at noon, and everyone around him was panicked.

But Hasan saw the layoffs as a blessing in disguise, and spent his last morning at the financial giant sharing his plans with his closest colleagues.

"They all looked at me," Hasan recalled, "and said--pardon my language--'What the [expletive] are you doing here? Go away and do exactly that. I've never seen you so alive as you are right now."

He was alive, Hasan said, because he was taking the opportunity to devote himself to making music, a dream he had since he was a boy. Onstage, the Stafford County resident becomes "Nero," and will perform his personal, hyper-rhythmic style of rock this Sunday afternoon at Jammin' Java in Vienna.

While he independently released the album "Nine" in 2007, Nero became much more serious about his music after the layoffs. He's cranked up his output of songs, writing more in just a few months than ever before, and now sees performing as more than just something he loves to do.

"I'm trying to do this with more rigor," Nero said. "Each show for me is like, 'What if this is the only time I have onstage--the only thing I ever have to communicate?'"

What Nero communicates are personal, introspective lyrics on top of a hypnotic blend of Eastern rhythms (a Bangledeshi-American, he uses instruments like the tabla drum in his recordings), pulsating electronic drumbeats and solid guitar licks. This sound echoes the eclecticism of Talking Heads and Peter Gabriel--Nero lists both as influences and freely admits trying to capture the feel of their music.

"I'm trying my best to be like them, but in the process, I've created something that's different," Nero said. "It's like a catalog. You listen to whatever it is that you like, and you safely tuck it away in the back of your head."

He was introduced to bands like Talking Heads by his father, Nero, who instilled in his young son a love of music early in life. The elder Nero passed away 12 years ago this May. The younger remembers his father as someone whom people loved being around, and sees performing with his father's name as a tribute to him.

"When he passed away, I adopted that name, because that's how I want to remember him," Nero said.

Despite his inspiration and distinctive sound, the dreams of rock 'n' roll success have yet to be fully realized. With bills to be paid and no golden eggs filled with record deals and concert tours on his doorstep, Hasan has recently gone back to work at another financial planning firm in Northern Virginia, making the long drive up Interstate 95 each day to his office.

"I tried to hold out for as long as possible, but the music wasn't paying off as fast as I thought it would be," Hasan said.

Still, Hasan has seemingly been transformed by his experience in December. He has committed himself, he said, to making music the driving force in his life.

With hope in his voice, he continued, saying, "I'm still a financial adviser--but I hope not for long."

What I Learned from Generation Guru Anne Loehr

2009-07-10T10:13:00.004-04:00

In a recent article in the Washington Post, "Generation Guru" (and 44-year-old former operator of safaris) Anne Loehr takes a group of 'boomers' through her course in "understanding generation Y." You see, Loehr's career--and mission in life--is to "touch as many people as possible" and explain how Generation Y thinks, works, talks, breaths, etc.

This is the part when you say "What? She's 44-years-old? What does she know about young people?" And to that I say, "You'd be surprised."

While the cynics might claim that Loehr reeks of the pseudo-scientific snake oil salesman plying her self-important wares, I tried to be open minded to her ideas. In doing so, I learned a great deal about myself, about my friends and--most importantly--about America.

Here's a list of just some of the things I learned from this article:

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I am constantly "jostling for hegemony" with the other people in my work place. Worse yet, sometimes this jostling turns into all-out rhetoric shoving matches, or worse, actual shoving matches.

Even though Survivor (the first really big reality show) didn't premiere until I was in high school, I apparently was raised on reality TV. Did you know that no one else watches or is influenced by reality TV but young people? Holy Moley!

I believe that fame and fortune will come easily. In fact, if you've seen my briefcase filled with diamonds and fame juice, I'd really appreciate you bringing out over to my office, which I call 'The Jostle-Dome.'

I got a trophy every time I had a soccer match. Not just at the end of the season, or when we won a tournament, BUT EVERY MATCH. After playing soccer every year from age 6 to 16, there's a room in my boyhood home that contains a massive pile of trophies.

I came of age during "kiddie dinosaur show 'Barney,' high-speed wireless Internet and Barack Obama," which is interesting because the last two have only happened during the last five years. So, apparently, I was in a pop-culture-less vat from age 0 until age 20, with only a constant stream of "I love you, you love me" pumping into said vat.

I want to be connected all the time, but I don't want to go crazy, which is why I use Facebook. I can't remember how many times I was hanging out with my friends in high school saying "man, I enjoy being connected, but what's an Internet site that will help me NOT go crazy?"

I value making a difference--being green and correct and all that stuff--which is why I won't buy Nike. Bastards.

Both my parents have MBAs. A little known fact is that everyone in America between the ages of 45 and 60 is required to have an MBA--we fed the MBA-less boomers to the shark pit years ago.

I had a nanny. And "The Nanny."

I use words like "cool" and "sucks," and will trust anyone--regardless of age and disposition--who also uses these words.

When I was a baby, I had a trust fund, but due to my years spent on Facebook and not buying Nikes, I need a financial advisor.

I travel and am not risky with money, particularly when I'm traveling, which I do without risking money.

While many people don't understand me, the only person who can really understand my generation "spent the 1990s in Africa running safari and hotel operations." Elephants and I actually share a lot of common traits, including a sense of self-entitlement, saying "cool" a lot, having a ton of trophies and a constant need to jostle.

I don't like to fly because of carbon emissions (when I travel, I take my zero-emission hydrogen jet pack), bungee jump of the Eiffel Tower(I prefer to hang glide through the Grand Canyon) or "work hard to play hard."

My dream--in the deepest part of my heart--is to move to France and work "in the local schools, teaching French to the poor elementary school kids."

Expert Predictions on the Future of Journalism

2009-07-08T16:07:00.006-04:00

If you follow me on Twitter, then you know that I've staked my claim Tom-Cruise-in-Far-and-Away-like to a big old chunk of the "new media guru" wilderness. For the low, low price of a suitcase filled with money, I've begun to offer smart-sounding "Expert Predictions" into the future of journalism and intelligent "newstimates" at what media outlets must do to prepare.

For those who've unfollowed me after my "Mr. Mister is the best band in history" tweet-bacle, enjoy an archived collection of my Expert Predictions completely out of order:

Expert Prediction #3: From Podcasts will come "Flatu-Casts," combining hard-hitting news and commentary with sophomoric sound effects.

Expert Prediction 43: To create more revenue, local newspapers will cross-train deliverymen to sell Cutco knives door to door.

Expert Prediction #1: The next newspaper to fail will be the Arizona Republic. It will do so four weeks from this moment exactly.

Expert Prediction #29: Due to extensive budget cutbacks, "U.S. News and World Report" and "The Atlantic" will change their names to "Events that Happen within Earshot Weekly"and "News from the Drainpipe Behind Our Dumpster."

Expert Prediction 67-a: The Huffington Post and the Daily Beast will soon merge to form "Arianna Huffington Swallows a Whale."

Expert Prediction 20-b: This whole "internets" thing is just a fad. Everyone will go back to telegraph-driven news soon.

Expert Prediction 128-a: "Fire David Letterman" campaign will be dubbed the "Pepsi Clear" of politically-motivated social movements.

Expert Prediction 9: The newspapers to survive will attract corporate sponsors, e.g., The Mike's Hard Lemonade Miami Herald.

Expert Prediction #11-b: In the future, All newspapers will be named after David Bowie songs. The most popular? "Changes."

Expert Prediction #2: Papers will begin converting elephant dung and expired milk into ink in an effort to decrease printing costs.

Expert Prediction #1012: Google will buy one newspaper next year--The Fancy News and Hippo of Spokane, Washington.

Expert Prediction #91. After running out of mildly interesting people to publicly confront, Bill O'Relly will begin harassing children.

Expert Prediction #27: WaPo's Dana Millbank will be consumed by his own smugness by 2012, creating a 90-ft high Smugasaurus Rex that will consume parts of Tawain and all of Wales.

Expert Prediction #71: As papers die, WaPo's Howard Kurtz will be forced to report on himself, thereby tearing a hole in the space-time continuum.

Expert Prediction #6: Wreckx-n-Effect wants to do more than zooma zoom zoom zoom in your boom boom--they also want to remake journalism.

Expert Prediction #59: To save space, news outlets will discontinue the use of articles (e.g., a, an, and the) in their stories.

Expert Prediction #4: Howard Kurtz will soon address the increased use of Billy Joel's "We Didn't Start the Fire" in 2010 campaign coverage.

Circus Freak to Troubled Megastar: The Jarring Shift in Michael Jackson Coverage

2009-07-06T15:31:00.005-04:00

With the sudden passing of pop star Michael Jackson, newspapers across the country jumped into action, devoting hours of coverage and acres of newsprint to put the musician’s life in context.

With thoughtful reverence, the obituaries and stories across the media spectrum discussed the impact of “Thriller” and swooned over his dance moves and showmanship. They also lamented how the bright lights of the media imprisoned Jackson, dignifiedly alluding to the court trials and erratic behavior that had landed him on the front page so many times.

But it wasn’t always this way. During Jackson’s 5-month trial for child molestation in 2005, these same outlets were covering the pop star with none of the dignity or calm respect of the obituaries, and their shift of Jackson from tabloid fodder to troubled pop icon has been jarring.

Today, they write that Jackson was both a “moonwalking megastar” and “one of show business's legendary oddities” (Washington Post), leading “a life of triumph and torment” (USA Today). While both obituaries touch on his darker elements, they present the pop star as brilliant but troubled.

Back in 2005, reporters covering the trial and aftershocks called him “ghoulish” and a “fleshless old [star]” (New York Times, June 15, 2005), questioning if the trial of “world's weirdest pop star” had “been one freak show too many” (USA Today, June 14, 2005). The latter story, written by Elysa Gardner, also quotes CNN legal analyst Jeffrey Toobin as saying that “[Jackson’s] image as a freak unhealthily obsessed with children is a permanent one."

With caustic words and slimey tone, the reporting and commentary from 2005 danced freely into the realm of tabloids, effectively blurring the line between where the Times stopped and the Enquirer began. But the even larger gap between the reporting lies in the respect for its subject—namely, that unlike the positive, almost awed coverage of his death, major news outlets showed a breathy disdain for Jackson during his trial.

On last Friday’s broadcast of NBC Nightly News, for example, anchor Brian Williams covered the pop star’s death extensively, interviewing producer Quincy Jones and running a story on how his music would “live on for so many years to come.” He opened the broadcast by saying that Jackson “is being mourned at the White House, from coast to coast in this country and around the planet.”

But during the 2005 trial, Williams openly turned his nose down at the trial and the coverage that his and other networks had given it. In a June 14, 2005 USA Today article about the trial’s relentless coverage (“Media go into MJ overdrive”), Williams is quoted as ending his June 13 broadcast with this caveat:

“A lot of people, especially those who write to and e-mail us, have wondered about the importance of covering the molestation trial of a 46-year-old pop star, whose best professional moments may well be behind him,” Williams said. “We have tried very hard to limit coverage of the Jackson trial to the most newsworthy days in the proceedings.”

Williams ended his thought by saying, “Tonight, at long last, it is time to move on."

By and large, the major media outlets did move on from the business of Michael Jackson, leaving the tabloids, the fame-obsessed bloggers and the news magazine shows to maintain the glaring media coverage of Jackson until his death on Thursday. This makes sense from a journalistic perspective, as the major story—the trial of a famous musician—had come and gone.

But what’s more difficult to grasp is why those reporters shifted from Michael Jackson as the pale-faced punch line to Michael Jackson as the tortured artist, a man whose musical accomplishments outshone his self-destruction.

Maybe the untimely death of a pop star allowed them to grasp fully the enormity of his success. Maybe the norms and standards of obituaries required a stoic, even tone devoid of the tabloid language that had dominated stories before.

Maybe, just maybe, Jackson’s death reminded reporters that Jackson was a human being, just as vulnerable to the barbs and bashes as city councilmen and single moms. Maybe, in their last full measure of journalistic responsibility, they thought that Jackson deserved a proper sendoff.

4 Things Battletoads Tells Us About the Future of Journalism

2009-06-19T14:05:00.004-04:00

Much like this recent post on the lessons taught by the quaint pro-vandalism game Paperboy, a host of ideas about the news industry can be found by digging into classic video games and pulling out juicy nuggets of inspiration.

But why just focus on games involving papers, boys or neither of the two? Great lessons can be learned from titles involving aliens or other non-human lifeforms, particularly Battletoads, released in 1991 for Nintendo.

The game features Rash and Pimple fighting various creatures through 12 controller-throwingly difficult levels, and while it was lauded by video game critics at the time, it has not received its due credit as the prescient source of journalism wisdom until now. Here are 4 things Battletoads tell us about the future of journalism:

1. When things look difficult, warp to the future.

In level 3 (Turbo Tunnel), the game requires you to mount speedbikes and guide the Battletoads through an increasingly difficult slalom course. The obstacles come at you fast and furious, but if you can hang on until the fifth series of obstacles, you can hit a warp that will take you to level 5 (Surf City).

Level 3 is the current crisis facing newspapers--relentlessly fast, obstacles flying at us, and a fair chance that many won't have a chance to continue--because they slammed into a "wall" known as a failing business model and the rise of the internet.

So, to keep from falling by the wayside, newspapers need to hit a metaphorical "warp," becoming first adopters and pushing technological and web-based approaches and thereby jumping ahead with their technology and approach to journalism.

It will be scary--the warp requires that you drive straight into a wall--but if you pick the right “wall” to “slam into,” you'll survive to thrive into the future.

2. If you need to smash something, press against the wall, turn into a wrecking ball, and unleash fury.

In Level 2 (Wookie Hole), the brothers descend down a huge hole via rappelling lines (the B'Toads, as well all know, are avid spelunkers), fighting off a myriad of flying and floating enemies along the way until they fight what looks to be a giant AM Radio at the end of the level.

To stop these enemies, a player can press and hold their Toad against the wall of the shaft, wait until he turns into a wrecking ball, and then watch as flies violently across the screen, splattering all who dare stand (or, rather, float) in his way.

Much like the lesson of Level 3, “the Wrecking Ball approach” speaks again to how media outlets can survive: patience. When you press up against a wall, you don’t instantly turn into a wrecking ball, just as you can’t flip the switch overnight from “newsasaurus rex” to “George Jetson Journalist.”

It will take time, but with the right approach, your patience and perseverance for a new adaptive strategy will work, and allow you to “smash” into an “AM Radio,” which in this case represents not only an actual AM Radio but also all other old-timey sources of news.

3. Repeatedly kicking something against a wall gives you more lives.

Level 2 is a gold mine for extra lives—manage to bounce a Razor Raven off the wall enough times, you start racking up extra lives, which will pay big dividends as you progress in the game. The challenge is hitting the bird enough times (you only start getting 1-Ups after the 8th kick) to rack up enough lives to make it worth it.

Just like repeatedly kicking something against a wall, this brave new world requires focus, and for journalists, this means focusing on one “razor raven” or specific subject and “kicking it against a wall” by covering every facet of it. The days of cops/courts beats are over, as one reporter/blogger/newsonator will soon relentlessly cover small claims court cases involving meat. Behold the emergence of the microbeat.

4. If you're playing in 2 player mode, punching your partner is counter-productive

One short coming of Battletoads is that, in 2 player mode, an ill-timed punch, head-butt, or stick swing toward a pig creature can land squarely on the chin of your partner. In its heyday, statistics that I just made up show that more video game arguments were launched because of this “feature” than any other in video games (the unstoppable bicycle kick in World Cup Soccer was a close 2nd).

For journalists, “not punching your partner” means staying true to quality instead of competition. If you write for the Funkytown Observer, and you beat the Funkytown Herald on a story, that’s great—until the next week when you both fold because you don’t have a solid web presence and no one under 60 reads your paper.

Rather, news outlets need to measure themselves not against local competition but against everything on the Web, and figure out what they can offer that no one else can. They should focus on creating their own real estate--finding their own respective "pig creature" to "punch"--rather than fighting it out with their metaphorical Rash or Pimple to punch theirs.

This is the most important lesson we can learn from BattleToads. You should probably print this part out, cut out this passage, and tape it to your monitor.

The History of Cross Town Rival. Chapter 10

2009-06-13T14:14:00.003-04:00

When we left our heroes, they have driven themselves to heretofore unknown depths of the rock and roll lifestyle in order to connect with the mythical "Dr. Feelgood," who they believed would connect them with their missing bassist Mick. We join the boys laying half-catatonic on a sidewalk in Toledo....

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After months of dedication to inebriation, copulation and conflagration, Pat and Murph were shells of human existence—both of their livers resembled bags of week-old bacon—but they believed that the man who stood before them was Dr. Feelgood, the one person who could bring their selectively-mute bassist Mick back from a pan-dimensional limbo. Unfortunately for them, all was not as it seemed.

Pat: “It was rather cloudy that day in Toledo. Then again, everyday in Toledo is cloudy, but that’s neither here nor there. But we see this guy—well, I see this guy, because Mick is still muttering to himself in what I think was an ant-induced stupor. But, we see this guy who we think is Dr. Feelgood coming toward us. He was wearing a giant foam cowboy hat, a throwback 49ers jersey, and a pair of MC Hammer’s parachute pants. I thought it was a bit ridiculous, but when your name is Dr. Feelgood, your expectations are rather vague.”

Pat continues: “So he’s coming toward us, slowly, and he takes off the giant cowboy hat. And then he takes off a wig. And all of a sudden it dons on me—that’s Montana Slim! And I peed myself. I’m not proud of it. But it happened. Awkward.”

Pat realized that they had been duped. Rather than the man who would free their band mate, in front of them stood their everpresent-yet-only-recently-mentioned roadie and substitute bassist Montana Slim.

Slim: “I couldn’t lie to those boys—I was like ‘straight up, I ain’t the doctor. I’m just your roadie in a wig.’ (When told about the moment, Murph exclaimed, “What? Slim had a wig? When did Slim find time to buy a wig? This is certainly news to me.”) Hell, I kinda sorta believed all that hooey about Dr. Feelgood when we started, but as the weeks went on, and more people started a-comin’ to the shows, I figured that this was my one chance to make my dream come true: opening a breakfast place called ‘Montana Slim’s Pancake Emporium.”

During the past months of depravity, it had been Slim who had pushed the band forward through their fudge-it list, laminating new assignments, setting up gigs and helping the band reach heretofore unknown levels of acclaim. Slim had done all this, in his mind, to bring them closer to his pancake dream—which would include, in his words, “an amazin’ variety of syrups.”

Slim: “You see, when you go to like a Waffle House or an IHOP, you get maybe one, two, four different types of syrups, tops. But at my place—The Pancake Emporium—fifty different kinds of syrup. Let that settle into you ol thinkin’ block for a second. 50. Five-Oh. Obviously your classic maple and butter pecan are gonna be there, but we’re gonna have all these flavors you ain’t never heard of before. Whiskey syrup. Cotton Candy syrup. Mango Habernaro. Pumpkin Mint. Pimento Ostrich. I could go on—I’ve thought of all of ‘em. Each an’ every single stinkin’ one more delicious than the last.”

Slim continued: “Since I was a little boy growing up in the Sasquatch Valley of Oklahoma, all I ever wanted to do was open a pancake emporium I could put my name on. I stayed up at night thinking about those syrups and the pancakes that I would pour them on. Maybe have a building that looked like a cowboy hat. You know, a niiiiiiccceee place. Somewhere you can take the kids. And I thought that if I could push these boys just a bit further on up the road, therr, I could open one up. I guess that’s what life’s all about then…dreaming, telling yer friends you’re a magical doctor, and pancakes.”

Pat and what remained of the functioning parts of Murph’s brain (at that moment, Murph’s gray matter had fallen into such disrepair that his bumbling, child-like existence would inspire the creation of the Aqua Teen Hunger Force character Meatwad) were devastated. They had spent the last eight months of their lives trying to get the bassist Mick back, and when they finally thought that they had reached rock bottom, they discover that they’ve been fooled all along.

Pat: “We needed Mick—without his interstellar grooves, our band would be forced to play Everclear covers until we were 60. And beyond Santa Monica, what could we really play? I’m not prepared to perform an hour’s worth of songs about my dad not being around. Just not my particular glass of merlot. I know we were getting bigger with Slim on bass, but it wasn’t the same. I had already broken every law I could think of short of clubbing children with baby seals, so I knew what I needed to do to set this right. I knew I had to see this thing through.”

Murph: “I gotta be honest, my memory of this whole thing is just a bit—uhhh—not there at all. I mean, it goes in and out. So, I remember waking up, and Slim’s standing there wearing parachute pants crying. And Pat’s crying. And I’m crying. And I’m wearing a wedding ring. And I’m really confused--that might have just been the gun powder—or ants. Again, not sure. But I thought—I really thought that this whole Dr. Feelgood thing was real. If Motley Crue says it, it should be real. Wait, I might have made that up. No, that’s real. Oh, yeah, back on track, Pat quit the band, and when he asked if I did too, I thought we were going to get breakfast, so I said yes. So that meant we both quit. In retrospect, I think it was the best decision I didn’t know I made.”

At that, Pat walked away, dragging a visibly incoherent and pants-full Murph with him. For the band, this unceremonious exit left the problem of gigs, namely, that for the first time in the history of Cross Town Rival, they actually had them. They were in demand across the Eastern seaboard, playing far larger shows than the outlet mall closings and Irish-themed speed dating events they had performed for most of their history.

With his dream seemingly falling through his grasp, even with the grip provided by the the syrup that was constantly smeared on his hands to remind him of said dream, Slim called Pat (Murph: “Pat had a phone? When did he find time to buy a phone? I missed so much!”) and asked for one more gig. After their years together, after all the shows, after all the times that Slim pulled Pat out of the belly of Blue Whale, Slim said that they owed it to each other.

Murph: “So here’s where the memory starts coming back. Slim tells us to show up at this gig at—get this—an abandoned explosives factory on the docks in New York City—and I’m like ‘really? I don’t think so!’ I watched a lot of old Batman TV shows growing up, and every time the Joker or the Penguin or King Tut wanted to trap Batman, he lured him into an abandoned factory. Not necessarily explosives, mind you, but an abandoned factory nonetheless. And so I say to Pat—‘look, it’s a trap. He’s gonna put us inside a giant hour glass slowly filling with sand or something.’ And Pat’s all like ‘Noooooo…I’m too smart to be caught in a trip. I know French.’ Ask him. Seriously, ask him about this. Me—with the IQ of a panda bear—sniffed out the trap. How do you like that?”

Pat: “Oh that’s rich. He said that? That I didn’t see it coming? Let me ask you this. How many times in life do you think that an encyclopedic knowledge of vintage Batman episodes comes in handy? Once? Twice? At Most? Murph got this one, and I have to hand it to him—we came ready. Thanks to that Panda brain of his.”

And prepared they were—they packed their instrument cases as well as Murph’s entire bass drum with crude implements of destruction (Pat brought wet towels to snap, Murph brought fireworks and shovels) and two weeks after waking up in Toledo, the boys marched into the abandoned Veljohnson Munitions Factory in search of Slim.

They spotted Slim standing on a catwalk about twenty feet above the main floor of the factory, wearing an eye patch and holding a Soviet-era grenade launcher (Murph: “What? Slim had a grenade launcher? When did he go to Soviet Russia? Why won’t my memory rememorize these things?”). Thankfully for our purposes in this exhaustive history, a security camera captured the entire confrontation…

Pat: “Where are the people? I thought we were gonna play a show?”

Slim: “Of course not. You both knew it would come to this. You both knew that I couldn’t let you walk away. We were gonna make the big time! And now it’s all over.”

Murph: “What on earth are you talking about? Is that a grenade launcher?”

Slim: “You were the chosen ones! You were going to change everything! I had a dream, and now that dream is gone from me! Thousands of Syrups! You hear me? Thousands of syrups! It was going to happen! And you took that away from me! Now you’re gonna pay!

Pat: “So what now? Are you gonna kill us?”

Slim: “Ya know, I didn’t really think this here plan all the way through. Well, uhhh, hmmm. You know, I bought this grenade launcher and this eye patch, and that’s about as far as I got. Hell, why don’t we go to an IHOP and talk this thing through. Want a cigarette?”

Murph and Pat: “NOOOOOOO!”

At that moment, Slim, lighting his cigarette, casually tossed his match onto a pile of explosives, starting a chain reaction that began spreading throughout the entire factory.

Murph: “At first, it wasn’t too bad. Explosion here, fireball there, duck, dodge, you know, pretty standard. But then—it got bad, because the explosions started getting really close to this 200 lbs barrel of dynamite (Pat: “We didn’t know it was a barrel of dynamite until I said ‘look out! Oh no! it’s a barrel that’s conveniently labeled ‘200 lbs of dynamite.”). Pat and I threw a bunch of his wet towels on it, but it was too late. That thing went up—as Slim would say, like a jumping bean on an okee’s oven—and we were blasted straight through the roof.”

Unbelievable as his story may seem, Murph’s recollection is correct, as the security tape shows that Slim, Murph and Pat were flung skyward out of the now de-roofed abandoned explosives factory, destroying several nearby Quizno’s locations in the process (Murph: “What? We were near a Quizno’s? No! I was so hungry! Damn you memory!”). By absolute sheer happenstance, Slim had picked a factory located near the Statue of Liberty—which, it’s important to note, is a great destination for kids and history buffs alike—and the trio somehow landed atop the statue’s head.

Dazed, confused, and with a complexion similar to Daffy Duck when Bugs Bunny bends the rifle so that it’s pointing back at Daffy, Pat climbed to his feet, bent on throwing Slim--the currently unconscious drawl-talking pancake lover--off the top of Lady Liberty. As he lurched toward him, he was overcome by the appearance of a great light in the sky.

Pat: “It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen: a sea of colors cascading over one another, like a great symphony of magnificence dancing in the sky.”

Murph remembers the sight a bit differently: “It was like watching God make starburst candies. It was awesome.”

The light grew brighter and brighter until it ruptured into a cacophony of thunder and seal yelps. Then, from out of the depths came their missing bassist Mick, riding on a surfboard made of light, with what historians now agree was atomic bomb physicist and underground shaman J. Robert Oppenheimer—known as “Dr. Feelgood” to those who bought his home-made methamphetamines—following close behind on a golden hang glider.

Murph: “I mean that was just awesome. Really. Mick’s back, and there’s that bomb guy, and there were seals and surfboards and hang glider. And they even brought me a sandwich. Best. Sandwich. Ever.”

Dr. Feelgood explained that the destruction of 14 Quiznos’ was the last task on the Fudge-It List—helping them finally hit Rock Bottom and leading to the reunification of the band.

With their bassist freed from pan-dimensional limbo, Pat and Murph were overjoyed. They were also very afraid, for they realized they were atop the Statue of Liberty and directly next to what they came to understand as a rip in the space-time continuum, which began to reverse itself, going—in the sophomoric parlance—from blow to suck.

Murph: “To keep ourselves from getting pulled into this vortex, we held on for dear life to those prong things on the top the statue’s head. You know, like Wolverine did in the first X-Men movie. Which was awesome by the way, as was the second, but let’s not talk about the 3rd one—so anyway, giant space hole thing, Dr. Feelgood flew back into the hole to close it up, leaving just us four to fly down on Mick’s surfboard, which, as we neared land, turned into a cloud. Like in Aladdin. It was awesome. I’m running out ways to say it was awesome, but really, the whole thing. Just awesome.”

All was right again. The band was reunited and, in an act of good faith, chose to keep Montana Slim as their roadie and manager.

Will Cross Town Rival achieve success with their original lineup? Will Montana Slim get his dream of opening a pancake Emporium? Will Batman and Robin escape from the Riddler’s clutches? Find out next time! Same Bat Time! Same Bat Channel!

Intrepid Rock Journalism: Toad the Wet Sprocket

2009-05-21T13:12:00.001-04:00

Author's Note: This article appeared in the Thursday, May 21 edition of the Free Lance-Star, located in scenic Fredericksburg, Va. To read the article at the FLS site, click here. Otherwise, enjoy:

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In hundreds of years, when time capsules are dug up and historians search for artifacts from the early 1990s, they will invariably emerge with a Toad the Wet Sprocket cassette.

Through ubiquitous radio hits like "All I Want" and "Walk on the Ocean," Toad the Wet Sprocket created acoustic, melodic music that has come to epitomize what rock sounded like in that moment in time.

Twenty years since their first album, they're still performing together--and bassist Dean Dinning knows what keeps the fans coming back. "The only reason they show up is because of the music, and we know that," Dinning said in a recent phone interview.

"It's not because we're good-looking or because we're super-cool or anything."

The band will perform tonight at Washington's National Harbor and tomorrow night at Fredericksburg's Celebrate Virginia Live.

As Dinning remembers, Toad broke out when radio stations switched formats from '80s pop to '90s alternative rock. In search of music that could be considered "alternative" but wouldn't scare away pop listeners, stations put Toad into heavy rotation.

"I think radio kind of moved into the street where we already lived," Dinning said. "You can't ask for anything better than that."

From there, the band became a mainstay of pop culture, putting out hit albums of their own and having their songs featured on TV shows such as "Friends," "My So-Called Life" and "Party of Five."

As the '90s waned, though, so did the band--internal tensions broke them up in 1998, and they haven't released new material since. Older, wiser and with two subsequent breakups under their belts, the band has had to redefine itself to perform together again.

"We just decided, 'Enough with the breakups,'" Dinning said. "'Let's just never break up again. If we want to play, we'll play, and if we don't want to play, we won't. Simple.'"

Now self-managed, the band has less pressure to stay on the road for long stretches of time. Dinning said the group now tours for only a few weeks in one area of the country, flying home between stints on the road and staying closer to family and friends. "The only way my wife and daughter really know that I was gone is that the litter boxes don't get cleaned and the trash doesn't get taken out."

While they do play a good number of shows together, performing as Toad the Wet Sprocket has, in many ways, become each member's side project. Frontman Glen Phillips has become a successful folk artist, and is now collaborating with Nickel Creek veterans Sean and Sara Watkins in a group called the Works Progress Administration.

Drummer Randy Guss also plays with and manages several groups, and Dinning and guitarist Todd Nichols recently traveled to Nashville to work with veteran country songwriters. "It was terrifying at first, but once we figured out what was really going on--that we could hold our own with these pros--we got some of the best material we have ever gotten. We're really, really excited about it."

Dinning is also excited about where Toad is right now, and doesn't rule out putting together a new album. "I think as long as we can keep playing and as long as we are enjoying playing together, then hopefully when we do decide to make something new--if and when we decide to--it'll be for the right reasons."

New album or not, Dinning and the band seem content with the nice little spot they've made for themselves in music history.

"You know, I hope it's a little bit culturally significant," Dinning said. "It's always nice to leave your mark on the pop culture of the time."

Follow Me On Twitter. It'll Be Great.

2009-03-12T09:26:00.004-04:00

For those who enjoy periodically reading my work on CrossTown Rival and in such wonderful publications as The Free Lance-Star and the Prince George's Sentinel, you can now enjoy me in a brand new medium: Twitter.

Follow me @bobfrankpat, and I will give you insight and analysis into such wide-ranging topics as what I had for breakfast, what shoes I'm wearing, and what I'll be watching on TV this evening (today, those answers are cheerios, brown shoes, and NCIS reruns).

Just go here (http://twitter.com/bobfrankpat) and click "Follow." Thanks!

Intrepid Rock Journalism: ShamRock Fest

2009-03-12T09:22:00.007-04:00

Note: This article appears in the March 12 edition Fredericksburg's bastion of news and information, The Free Lance-Star. This marks the first time in my intrepid rock journalism career where I devoted multiple paragraphs to beer. Enjoy:

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This St. Patrick’s Day, all you need is some music, beer and 35,000 of your closest friends.

With more bands, more green and plenty of age-appropriate beverages, the ninth annual Shamrock Fest in Washington promises to be the biggest St. Pat’s celebration in the area. The one-day festival will be held this Saturday at the Metro-accessible RFK Stadium in downtown D.C.

“[Shamrock Fest] is probably the best Irish entertainment lineup in the country,” said event coordinator Mike Harrigan.

The festival will feature a cavalcade of Celtic-inspired entertainment throughout the day, from the melodic riffs of Carbon Leaf to the more traditional Irish music of the D.C. Fire Department’s Pipes and Drums Band.

Besides Irish music, Shamrock Fest will also host DJs spinning dance music, a carnival-style “sideshow,” Irish dancing, pub games, rides and a myriad of other attractions.

“It’s an overload for your senses,” Harrigan said, who added that 100 kegs of green-colored beer will be on hand just in case someone gets thirsty.

Headlining the show will be Irish rock stalwarts Flogging Molly, who return to the festival after appearing in 2007. Bob Schmidt, the group’s mandolin and banjo player, said that the band is able to bring the raucous fun of an intimate bar show to the big festival stage—with a little help

“I think at places like Shamrock Fest it’s a lot easier because there’s already an enormous amount of booze involved, which is probably the main ingredient to bringing the pub feeling to a large crowd,” Schmidt said. “By the time we get to them, they’re pretty well pickled. They’ve been drinking since noon.”

Since coming together at Molly Malone’s pub in Los Angeles in the late ’90s, Flogging Molly has risen to prominence with foot-pounding anthems and an earth-shaking live show as their calling card. While Schmidt said that Irish music by its nature is brimming with energy, he also feels lucky to have an energetic and supportive fan base at their concerts.

“They feed all this energy into us,” Schmidt said. “We’re able to play our songs, and it excites them, and their energy is contagious to us—it’s that communication going back and forth that keeps whipping everything into that higher and higher level of frenzy.”

Many bands at Shamrock Fest advertise themselves as high-octane live performers, including The Pubcrawlers, a Celtic punk band from Portland, Maine. Making their third appearance at the festival, the group integrates traditional music from across the Celtic landscape with aggressive rock elements, combining guitar and drums with tin whistle, fiddle and a bagpipe.

“The music itself is very fun, is very melodic, is very sing-along, and when you add the punk element to it, it just kind of naturally makes it very energetic,” said the group’s drummer “Andy Pubcrawler,” who added that many bands in his area take their band’s moniker as a quasi-last name.

Like many bands of their ilk, The Pubcrawlers also invite the audience to participate with the traditional call-and-response—in other words, encouraging the audience to give a timely shout or to sing along with the band.

“You throw that stuff in, and no one needs to know the words—they know when the “heys” and the “hoys” are coming, and everybody is singing along and chanting along,” Pubcrawler said. He added that when listeners don’t sing along, “I’ve been known to drag people up onstage and make them.”

Beyond the drinking and the shouting, Shamrock Fest, though, is more than just a day-long concert. Amidst the shared economic troubles, the festival is a celebration, a coming together to hear Irish music, which, in all of its forms, calls the listener to make the best of hard times.

In fact, Schmidt said that creating a sense of community—a sense of “we’re all in this together”—is ultimately what Flogging Molly tries to do on stage.

“Let’s forget about the hard stuff for a little while and remember that what you feel right now—with all these people around you who love the same things that you love—is what will get you through,” Schmidt said.

The Future of Journalism. DUN DUN DAH!

2009-02-09T22:21:00.002-05:00

It's like the Jetsons or Something! Wow!

Twenty Five Facts that You Did Not Know About Me

2009-01-29T22:24:00.004-05:00

With my impending birth celebration, I thought it fitting that I begin to open up more about my life's journey to you, the random Russian dudes who come to my site in the hopes that you'll find pictures of Jessica Alba (comrades, my apologies). And so, here are twenty five things you may not have known about me.

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1. I have never been to Spain. Only underneath it.

2. My father believed in werewolves and made his living as “Timmy Tall-Legs, The Giraffe Man.” Today, you know him as former NBA Superstar Dikembe Mutumbo.

3. I spent my early days growing up in the tobacco fields of Connecticut. When a freak brush fire destroyed the fields that surrounded our house, I became so addicted to smoking that doctors were forced to replace my lungs with a complex series of hamster tubes and suction cups.

4. When I was 7, I lost the middle toe on my left foot. Six days ago, I found it.

5. In the future, I will lead the remnants of humanity to victory against the machines and their self-aware computer program SkyNet.

6. As much as I enjoy the company of other people, I do miss the days spent living in the eye of the Statue of Liberty, reading books by R.L Stein and producing one act plays with clumps of dust as the actors.

7. As a young boy, I was terrible at remembering names, so my mother helped me by travelling back in time and writing the early rock and roll novelty hit “The Name Game.” While she was there, she wisely changed my name to “Robert;” it had formerly been “Mitch.”

8. Once, I had a dream where I ate a giant marshmallow. When I woke up, my pillow was gone.

9. In search of a late night snack during high school, I combined the contents of my refrigerator and created what people today know as the “chalupa.”

10. I invented ska music because I thought the words "rock and roll" were too long.

11. Thanks to a lucky combination of fog, cornstarch, and panache, I managed to convince the European nation of Luxembourg that I could walk on water.

12. I was the lead guitarist for Guns and Roses for 6 minutes in 1994.

13. During summer vacation from pre-school in 1989, I built an obstacle course in my back yard and ran it for 72 days straight. On the 73rd day, I said “This would make a great television show,” and thus, American Gladiators was born.

14. I'd rather have a few good friends than have everyone I know trapped in a well.

15. A three-week vacation to visit my grandparents in Florida served as the inspiration for the hit television show “Family Matters.”

16. I have a tattoo on my stomach of a young Elvis Presley. My hope is that, when I gain weight and become wrinkly, thin Elvis will slowly become fat Elvis.

17. I know exactly how we can sleep while our beds are burning, but I was told that I should keep that a secret.

18. After seeing the enjoyable Kevin Kline movie “Dave,” I managed to convince former President Jimmy Carter to switch places with me for four days. Only Rosalynn and former Celtics great Kevin McHale could tell the difference.

19. In college, my roommate and I tried to settle a low-key disagreement on household chores. During our discussion, we inadvertently burnt down a middle school gymnasium.

20. In my dreams, I imagine myself as Mr. Potato Head.

21. While living in a burnt out stretch limousine near Denver in 2007, I immersed myself into the club scene and started the “Austra-Awesome” movement, which combined the material and chemical excesses of the late 1970’s with elements from the popular 80’s film “Crocodile Dundee.”

22. Someday, I hope to move to Nantucket, build a giant sailboat, and become the first person to water ski solo across the Atlantic Ocean dressed as Skeletor.

23. I have travelled the world and visited every continent except for North America.

24. I am tall, though not as tall as my father, former NBA Superstar Dikembe Mutumbo.

25. Few people know that I built my own car almost entirely out of frozen spiders and puppy teeth. Yes, and some steel too.

Intrepid Rock Journalism: Carlene Carter

2009-01-15T09:31:00.002-05:00

Author's Note: This feature on musician Carlene Carter appeared in the January 15, 2009 edition of Frederickburg Virginny's bastion of news and information, The Free-Lance Star. In a first for my intrepid rock journalism career, my work was picked up by two different bloggers. Find briefs on my feature here and here. Enjoy:

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As the daughter of honky-tonk legend Carl Smith and June Carter—and the step-daughter of Johnny Cash—Carlene Carter was born into country music royalty.

Sidetracked by personal demons and losses, she’s back and still carrying on the family tradition. Carter and her band will perform at The Barns at Wolf Trap on Saturday.

Growing up, Carter certainly had the genes to follow in her parents’ footsteps, but it wasn’t a foregone conclusion that she was going to be a country singer.

“I always knew I wanted to be a musician,” Carter said in a recent phone interview.

“I just didn’t know exactly how it was going to pan out. It wasn’t always a given that I would go into the family business and make a living at it.”

She eventually did go into the family business, embarking on a career that is now going on 30 years. While she peaked commercially in the early ’90s with hits “I Fell in Love” and “Every Little Thing,” she was often known more for her offstage troubles, which included wild partying and bouts with addiction, than her music.

Carter has also seen more than her share of sorrow. In 2003, she experienced the deaths of not only her famous mother and step-father, but also her younger sister, Rosey, and her longtime partner, Howie Epstein, who played bass for Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers.

Her latest album, “Stronger,” intimately recounts her journey back from those depths, and marks her first record released in more than a decade.

Carter said many of the songs, particularly “Judgment Day,” which discusses Epstein’s death, are always emotional to sing on stage.

“That song in particular—I always have a little bit of a hard time getting through it, but I do,” she said.

“I don’t stop, but sometimes I crack up a little bit, and that’s OK. That’s the reason I wrote it—to share that moment in my life with other people.”

Carter, 53, appears to have her troubles behind her. She has grandchildren now, and credits new husband Joe Breen (her fourth) with helping motivate her to create her new album. Wed in 2006, Carter says that she and Breen travel the road together as much as they can, and have never been apart for more than a week.

“Joe and I really like being together, so that’s kinda handy, because we’re married,” Carter said.

A performer himself, Breen often joins Carter onstage for the shotgun-wedding classic “Jackson.” He also added his voice to her album on the track “It Takes One to Know Me,” which Carter wrote at age 17 as a gift for Johnny Cash.

“I gave [‘It Takes One to Know Me’] to Big John, my step-daddy, for his birthday that year because I didn’t have enough money to buy him a present,” Carter said.

“Since songs are so personal to our family, I thought that was the best present I could give him.”

Cash and June Carter would later record the song together—only Carlene Carter did not find out until after they had both passed away, when her step-brother, John Carter Cash, asked her to add her voice to the recording.

“So I got to sing with Mama and John again after they both were gone, which I never thought would ever happen,” Carter said.

“It was a pretty personal song, and it was written for him, to sing in his voice. When I do it [in concert], I sing it to John, as if he was still here.”

Those family ties continue to inspire Carter, as she’s currently working on a tribute album for her father, Carl Smith. She feels a responsibility to carry on her family’s musical legacy, starting with her grandmother Maybelle Carter, through the Carter Sisters and Johnny Cash, to today.

“It was always instilled in us to do that—to carry on the Carter legacy while still making new music,” she said.

Nestle Quik Ad on DC's Red Line

2008-12-10T21:14:00.001-05:00

On Hiatus

2008-11-15T21:19:00.003-05:00

Dear Reader,

Due to numerous foreseen (e.g., going to journalism graduate school) and unforeseen (e.g., my transformation into a "chubby funster") circumstances, the non-professional aspects of Cross Town Rival have been put on hiatus for the foreseeable future. You can still find instances of intrepid rock journalism and other such professional appearances, but other than that, things will be a bit light for the next months or so.

Enjoy, and keep on rocking.

Intrepid Rock Journalism: Third Stream Giants

2008-11-14T16:08:00.000-05:00

Author's Note: This article appeared in the November 13, 2008 edition of Fredericksburg's titan of news and information, The Free-Lance Star. In a follow up to the story, I learned that the funk's mother was worried sick about , and since being returned by the Third Stream Giants, the funk has been grounded for three weeks.

The link to the original article is in the title, so click if you'd like. Otherwise, enjoy.

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Third Stream Giants have brought back "the funk." It's about time.

The up-and-coming octet plays funk and soul like the titans of old, with thick grooves and horn blasts aplenty. The band matches the soulful baritone of Anthony Campbell--the 2003 winner of the "Today" show's "Superstar" singing competition--with slickly executed horn licks and groove-oriented compositions, many of which are arranged by guitarist Matt Montoro. What results is a spirited collision of funk, soul and R&B that can adapt to various styles and genres.

The band will hand out fistfuls of funk at Washington's The Red and The Black this Sunday. Local fans who can't make the D.C. gig can burn off Thanksgiving calories with the Giants on Saturday, Nov. 29, at The Loft--or ring in the new year with them on Wednesday, Dec. 31, at Brock's Riverside Grill.

Their flexibility of styles means that, in addition to original compositions, the Giants can put their own spin on a wide range of songs.

"It's about playing the music that inspires us," said Montoro in a recent phone interview.

From Outkast to Lynyrd Skynyrd's "Sweet Home Alabama," they try to integrate "all different types of music" into their particular style of funk, said Montoro.

While the band started as a jazz-fusion group in 2006, this far more funky incarnation has been playing together only for about a year. The current lineup features Campbell on vocals, a three-man horn line, keys and a tight rhythm section--creating a sound that's more akin to the hip-shaking style of Morris Day and the Time than the jazz heroes Bela Fleck and the Flecktones.

This fat sound and lineup carry over into the group's live shows, and while Montoro joked that they were not yet up to the Morris Day standard ("We're not at the point where we have uniforms or our choreography down pat"), the performance element of their shows is crucial, he said. "Going in, it's really just about connecting with the audience, whether we're playing in a large place or a small club where there might be 50 people out. We are definitely an audience-participation-type act."

What sets Third Stream Giants apart from your standard "let's get together and jam on some oldies" bar band is that they are unnervingly good. Their songs boast intricate and complex arrangements, and their players are more than capable of producing tight, well-crafted jams.

Montoro--who said that the band rehearses constantly to add new material to its set list--thinks it's the high-caliber musicians that draw people to their shows.

"Whatever style of music you listen to, I think most people can appreciate musicianship," he said.

With the recent rise of artists like Sharon Jones and the Dap-Kings rekindling the fires of funk and soul, it's almost hard to believe that a band as talented as Third Stream Giants has not broken out beyond being a regional band.

But since all the band members have day jobs (several are teachers, and Campbell works at the chamber of commerce) getting everyone together is logistically difficult, and the band won't release its first album until early next year.

The band has also suffered a loss--21-year-old Mike Smith, the original drummer, died in a car crash in July 2007. Montoro and Smith were good friends who had reconnected through the band, and Smith's loss compelled the group to do some "soul-searching" before moving forward.

"We had these big plans, and then tragedy struck," said Montoro. "I wish he was here and enjoying it with us."

In spite of the challenges, the Giants move forward--and Montoro is optimistic about what lies down the road.

"I see us being able to play at a lot of these great venues around here--The Birchmere, State Theatre--places that you can pull in a couple thousand people, but still have that intimate vibe," Montoro said. "I'd hate to lose that."

Intrepid Rock Journalism: Brian Wilson

2008-11-13T16:10:00.000-05:00

Author's Note: Holy crap I got to interview Brian Wilson. BRIAN WILSON! The article that came from this interview appeared in the November 13, 2008 edition of The Free Lance Star.

Original article is in the title. Enjoy.

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In the pantheon of modern musicians, few compare to Brian Wilson.

With the Beach Boys, Wilson composed some of the most enduring songs of the 1960s, penning hits like "I Get Around" and "California Girls"--and, in the process, creating a soundtrack for the surf-crazed California of that era.

He peaked creatively in 1966 with the Beach Boys' release of "Pet Sounds." Featuring classics like "Wouldn't It Be Nice" and "God Only Knows," the album is arguably the finest in the history of pop music.

After splitting with the Beach Boys, Wilson withdrew from the public eye in the decades that followed-- largely because of his well-documented struggles with drugs and mental illness, as well as just plain erratic behavior (including moving his piano into a sandbox).

His recent work as a solo artist, however, has brought him renewed acclaim, particularly with the completion of his once-unfinished magnum opus, "SMiLE," in 2004.

Wilson released his latest album, "That Lucky Old Sun," in August and will appear with his band at Washington's Warner Theatre next Tuesday.

For the new project, Wilson, now 66, found inspiration in an old American standard and went about creating an album with that as it center.

"I found Louie Armstrong's version of 'That Lucky Old Sun,'" he said in a recent phone interview. "I learned it and taught it to the band. Then I wrote 10 really good original songs."

The resulting album is a whimsical joyride through a sun-kissed day in Los Angeles. Rather than simply being a collection of tracks, it plays through as a unified piece of music, a delicately arranged composition complete with instrumental interludes and narration of "poetic images of L.A." that were written by longtime collaborator Van Dyke Parks.

Decades since his time with the Beach Boys, California continues to be a major source of inspiration for Wilson. "Of course I love the beaches and the restaurants--the record stores and stuff like that," he said. "I love L.A."

The new album's songs are well-crafted and overflowing with the fun-loving hooks that populate Wilson's best work. But what most shines on "That Lucky Old Sun" are the ethereal, expansive harmonies. On the track "Can't Wait Too Long," the voices blend with ease and serenity, rising and falling with the beauty of a Pacific Ocean sunset.

"I've always liked harmony," Wilson said. "Harmony is my favorite part of music."

His signature harmonies, which are first conceived on the piano, never come as an epiphany in the middle of the night, he added.

"It never happens at any one time. It just comes to me naturally."

Wilson premiered "That Lucky Old Sun" onstage in London last year--a performance that, years ago, would have been unimaginable considering his legendary stage fright. Wilson now enjoys playing onstage, though--not only because of his current bandmates ("They're great singers and great musicians," he said), but also for the reaction of the crowd.

"I like the applause I get from the audience," he said.

For as much praise as "That Lucky Old Sun" and his live performances have received, it doesn't seem to be the same Brian Wilson anymore.

Gone is the introspection, the sadness of the young man staring into the great, beautiful ocean, wondering aloud if there's somewhere else he'd rather be. The love-driven angst of "Wouldn't It Be Nice" and the isolation of "In My Room" and "I Wasn't Made for These Times" have been replaced now with peppy-yet-vacant toe-tappers about Mexican girls and sunny days.

Still, few musicians or songwriters in the annals of pop music can hold a candle to the career of Brian Wilson. For his work, Wilson has been compared with the Gershwins, Mozarts and other monumental names in music's history. Wilson himself doesn't feel that his name belongs in that company, though.

"I feel a little bit self-conscious about that, you know?" he said.

Mozart aside, Wilson's legacy is not in doubt: He could release a record with two hours of train whistles and not tarnish what he has already accomplished.

Looking back over his nearly 50 years in music, Wilson has no regrets about his career and feels comfortable with his contribution to the musical landscape.

"I think I've left behind a lot of nice music," he said. "And a lot of love. There's a lot of love in our music."

For now, Wilson plans to tour behind "That Lucky Old Sun" and is already planning to start a new record soon. There seems to be little else he wants to do.

"Music is my life. It's my whole life," he said.

Groundless Predictions for September 2008

2008-09-03T20:58:00.001-04:00

What's that? Is hurricane veteran Jim Cantore being thrown around a seaside town like a lonely sock in a dryer? Well then, you know what time it is...it's time for this month's Groundless Predictions! Cue the completely original theme music!

I don't wanna close my eyes! I don't wanna fall asleep cause I miss you, baby, and I don't want to groundlessly predict!

As always, these are groundless predictions for this month, September 2008.

Fresh off allegations that her youngest daughter is actually her granddaughter, Alaskan Gov. Sarah Palin's family will face additional scrutiny when evidence surfaces that Palin may have more skeletons in her closet. Sources will learn that Palin, while competing in the Miss Alaska pageant, had a brief affair (most sources in the know clock the affair in at no more than seven and a half minutes) with pageant judge and then-minor league baseball prospect Curt Schilling, producing a child. Not wanting to damage either of their careers, the couple decided to leave the baby on the doorstep of a military couple who had recently moved into the nearby Alaskan city of Eagle River, hoping that the young couple would raise the boy as their own...

Allright, I have a confession to make. This is not a groundless prediction. This is a fact: I, Bobby McMahon, am the love child of Curt Schilling and Sarah Palin. There. The truth is out there. No more running.

In other, more sensical news, scientists will discover that a four hundred square mile chunk of ice that broke off of the upper Canadian Peninsula, once thought to have caused by unseasonably warm temperatures in the Arctic Ocean, was actually caused by Joe Biden's unnervingly white smile. While environmental activists will be up in arms about the Delaware Senator's powers of dental destruction, popularity polls for the Democratic Vice Presidential candidate will sky-rocket when Barrack Obama promises to use Biden's pearly whites to melt Islamic militants, much like Indiana Jones used the Ark of the Covenant to melt Nazis in the film The Raiders of the Lost Ark. Let's remember what that looks like:

Now some quick pieces of advice. Yes, no, don't do it, pick that up, probably not a good idea, put that down, duck, duck again, now would be a good time to run, easy now, better team lift that, green, vegetable burrito, Muppets in Space, another beer, a glass of water, Brownie Sundae, Morocco, Tony Danza, and wiper fluid.

A quick update on an earlier story. Noted blogger and unsuccessful humorist Bobby McMahon will confirm that he is the love child of Alaska Governor and Vice Presidential candidate Sarah Palin and Baseball legend and fellow noted blogger Curt Schilling by writing a blog post confessing to this fact. No word yet on who will ghost write his tell-all story, but sources close to the situation will say that John Grisham, master of the Southern Legal thriller, will pen the young man's remarkable life studying and living among chimpanzees in the mountains of Tanzania.

A Voice Silenced

2008-09-02T16:24:00.001-04:00

In a world where people can die after a long battle with an undisclosed illness, we owe it to ourselves to salute one of the most ominous voices of our world. Don LaFontaine, you will be missed.

The Art of Relaxating

2008-08-07T15:40:00.003-04:00

Jermaine Clement (Flight of the Conchords) and Jared Hess (Napoleon Dynamite, Nacho Libre) have made a movie, and that movie has begun to be marketed. Enjoy.

The History of CrossTown Rival: Part 9 -- Finding Dr. Feelgood

2008-08-05T10:55:00.003-04:00

When we last left our heroes, Pat and Murph learned from Chris Parnell that they needed to find Dr. Feelgood in order to bring their bass player Mick back from limbo. Enjoy.

The two non-limboed members of CrossTown Rival knew what was at stake: descend into the seediest, most deplorable excesses of rock and roll, or they’d never see their bass player again. They thanked Chris Parnell for his help, left the apartment, found the closest bar, and spent the next two weeks reveling in nonstop substance abuse and some ill-timed incontinence (Murph: “I never really like Planet Hollywood anyway).

Pat: “Chris let us crash at his place for a while, but as we spent most of our nights in gutters and garbage dumpsters, we didn’t see him much. On one of the few nights we made it home, Chris brought up the fact that the last group to connect with Dr. Feelgood was Motley Crue, who used their audience with the famous scientist to visit the afterlife and, if memory serves me, obtain some sort of property.”

Tommy Lee, Motley Crue drummer: “Yeah, Dr. Feelgood was a special man, man. In those days, bro, Vince was a bit of an agnostic, but Nikki, who at the time was big into some Sub-Saharan transcendentalism thing, turned Mick and me on to the idea of securing our place in the afterlife, like making sure we had a ticket or whatever. He said that the elders of his philosophy actually believed you could travel into the Terra de Morta or whatever and choose the exact space where you would spend eternity, and we were high enough to believe him…Ground Control to Major Tom…Ground Control to Major Tom…Oh sorry, did I just start singing? Totally spaced out on you man.”

Not finding success in their own methods, Pat and Murph put their one and a half minds to the task of studying how exactly Motley Crue took the long winding road toward self destruction town. After reading countless interviews, viewing their “Behind the Music” special, and interviewing groupies and musical contemporaries alike, subtle yet real patterns began to emerge. To their surprise, they found that the exploits of Motley Crue were not the random acts of a bunch of drug-addled oversexed idiots but rather a systematic and highly organized schematic of how they sought to find Dr. Feelgood. In other words, they boys found themselves a map.

Tommy Lee: “Oh, wait can you hang on a minute? I’ve gotta hit the…wait. I don’t remember. So, yeah, the roadmap or whatever was again Nikki’s idea, and it worked like a charm. Truth, Nikki died, used heroin again, and woke up with a needle in his arm, Mick and Vince went off the deep end with alcohol, and me…well…we all know what Tommy Lee did. Yeah. But it was all worth it; I may have lost my ability to smell, blink, or move my toes, but I’ve got a sweet bungalow right by the River of Dreams once I eat it for good. Me and Billy Joel. It’s gonna be great. That dude’s awesome.”

The map, nicknamed “The [expletive deleted]-It List,” mandated a number of increasingly deplorable acts in the many facets of the rock and roll lifestyle, including drugs, sex, booze, reckless indifference, casual indifference, assault with animals, improper use of candy bars, public urination, defacement of national monuments, indecent exposure, cautionary tales, and wanton destruction, all of which ultimately leading to them hitting rock bottom. With ever-present yet only recently mentioned roadie Montana Slim subbing in on bass and setting up gigs across the Northeast, Murph and Pat got to work immediately.

Pat: “The first steps were easy. We found every substance listed in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, locked ourselves in a hotel room, and went to town. Next, we started getting groupies for our band by putting up signs outside our gigs that said ‘We have no morals and will soon be famous.’ Finally, I stopped wearing underwear, bought a motorcycle, and cut my hair to look like Billy Idol. I too heard the rebel yell.”

Murph: “Oh man was that great. Here we were doing something good for Mick, and I have a good reason to do every stupid thing my brain could come up with. We played a show in Syracuse, and I’m feeling absolutely no pain. Come to think of it, I can’t remember feeling much of anything—not even my drumsticks. I hope I played okay. So anyway, we invite the entire girl’s judo team back to the Days Inn for a pool party. Good times. Next thing I know, I wake up alone in bed alone covered in bruises with the remains of a shark next to me and a Mars bar in my…never mind. Pat was a big hit with the ladies, though.”

Pat: “Although I certainly did it, I didn’t much care for the booze, heroin, meth, jet fuel, or expired milk I did. Just not my cup of tea. I did like the ladies though. Not gonna lie, after a show in Philadelphia, me, a city councilwoman, and the Liberty Bell. I did it for America that night. Let freedom ring.”

Tommy Lee: “CrossTown Rival? The Irishie dudes from Dover, New Delaware? Those guys were nuts, man. We were staying at the same hotel as them in Boston, you know, and about 4 AM, I hear this rumble coming from somewhere above me. Not like a Sharks and Jets rumble, but like a spaceship had landed on the top of the hotel. So I go up there and I’m like ‘oh man, is that a cannon? Dudes! You stole a cannon!’ No joke, man, they were firing this World War 1 cannon from the roof, screaming ‘take that Germany!’ with every shot. No way those things were hitting Germany—you know, I don’t think they knew where they were—but those dudes could party.”

Montana Slim: “Them boys was benter than a fire chief on the 4^th of July. They was running through that fudge-it list faster than I could print up new checklists and get ‘em laminated. Ménage a Trois with Vietnamese twins in a Post Office on tax day. Check. Stealing a polar bear from the zoo and painting it orange. Check. Lighting a Motel 6 on fire by filling the pool with gasoline and dropping in a hand grenade. Double check.”

Murph and Pat’s initial successes, though, were soon met by physical, mental, and actual roadblocks (Murph: “Let this be a lesson to you kids out there. Never take horse steroids and hijack a school bus. The cops will find you.”). Increasing medical bills (Pat: “Today, penicillin no longer works for me. It’s pretty sad.”) and court costs forced the band to play upwards of 37 shows a week, leaving little time in the day for their appointed duties. What’s worse, it was becoming harder and harder to top their efforts, leading to Caligula-Thomas-Crowne-Maury-Povich levels of excess.

Montana Slim: “That’s right. Things started gettin’ rougher than a steer’s rump in a snowstorm. The police was after ‘em, nobody was sleepin’, and to tell the truth, the whole rock and roll lifestyle thing started bringing people out to the shows to see what they’s a gonna do. That was a lot of pressure on them boys. One night, Pat drank an oil barrel filled with highway hooch (editor's note: highway hooch is a mixture of moonshine, bug repellant, and RC Cola) while Murph played his drum solo. Crowd went nuts, but by then Pat was so cranked on the silly sauce that he couldn't finish the show. You know, other bands would have collapsed or stopped all the nonsense long before, but with Mick still in limbo, they just wasn’t any quit in them boys.” Through the exhaustion of six nonstop months, Murph and Pat persevered, knowing that rock bottom was nearly within their reach.

Murph: “I knew we were getting close when we hit New York for some shows at a hole in the wall called Madison Square Garden. I don’t know, Montana found set them up. While drunkenly wandering around New York Harbor, I stole a sailboat full of Japanese tourists and crashed it into the Statue of Liberty. The cops took me to jail, and Pat decided to break me out like he had seen on an old Batman episode—ice cream truck right into the jail cell. Nice. And that’s the last thing I remember before waking up in Mexico. Weird”

It looked as though victory was theirs; On June 19^th, Murph and Pat triumphantly hit rock bottom, and unlike Murph, Pat can still recall the exact moment: “I can still see it today: there I was, slathered in my own feces, soaked in Mountain Dew, and snorting ants off the sidewalk outside a Denny’s in Toledo, Ohio. Not the good Denny’s in town; the other one. To my left was Murph, high on paint thinner and gun powder, shouting that he was hell-bent on selling his own legs just to get high one more time. To my right, a nineteen year old groupie named Veronica with a hook hand and a bouffant hairdo, drooling all over my arm which seemed to be covered with curing iron burns. My arm, not hers. She may have been married to Murph. There may have been a goat there. I was bald. I have no idea why.” And just as promised, Dr. Feelgood appeared at that very moment.

Will Dr. Feelgood lead Murph and Pat to Mick? Will Mick want to leave limbo? Will their newfound popularity lead to local, regional, or national acclaim? Find out next time in Part 10.

The History of CrossTown Rival: Part 8 -- The Search for Mick

2008-07-31T18:12:00.004-04:00

And yet another chapter in the exhaustive history of the greatest prog-rock band from Dover, Delaware, CrossTown Rival. When we last left our heroes, Mick had just thrown the mythical Divine Strike and won a curling match with the Tragically Hip. In the process, he disappeared. We pick up the story as Murph and Pat pick up the pieces and begin their search for their bass player.

UPDATE 8-5-08: At the suggestion of my rather attractive female editor, I have linked several past parts of the CrossTown Rival story to this chapter so as to catch up all those who are new to the epic. Enjoy.

“So Mick was gone,” said drummer Murph. “Vanished. Not around anymore. No more bass player. Kind of a big deal. We spent about two hours looking for him, but after the polar bears finished eating the Tragically Hip, we thought it might be a good time to get the fudge out of there and climbed down the glacier.”

Indeed, multiple sources (those being Murph, Pat, and ever-present yet heretofore unmentioned roadie Montana Slim) confirm that Mick had disappeared, as two remaining members of Cross Town Rival found neither any trace of Mick at the curling rink nor any visible tracks leading toward or away from the area.

Pat: “We even checked for Jolly Rancher wrappers, a tell-tale sign that Mick has been anywhere. I know he was eating them during the match, but afterwards, we couldn’t find a single one. Granted, the polar bears may have eaten the wrappers, but that’s highly improbable. Possible, but highly improbable.”

Pat also used those words to describe how Mick could be still alive yet in a limbo-like state which manifests itself through a symbiotic relationship with the Divine Strike (Pat: “I could explain it to you, but I would need a map, an easel, and a gamma-charged proton accelerator. Well, if you had an orange, we could use that instead.”). Pat convinced Murph (who was still flabbergasted that they had won the curling match) to go to New York, locate Pat’s estranged brother, and use his considerable wealth and influence in the scientific community to bring Mick back from whatever pan-dimensional reality he currently found himself.

Possessing only the vigilance to find their brother and the remnants of the Tragically Hip’s wallets (author’s note: in the last story, CTR and the Tragically Hip had a curling match on a glacier surrounded by hungry polar bears. Remember, kids, it’s not stealing if their already dead.), Pat and Murph set out for New York City.

The journey back from Canada was especially difficult; Pat, a lover of all deep fried confections, became addicted to Tim Horton’s and gained 320 pounds on the two-week trek back to the Big Apple.

Murph: “Needless to say, Pat had a bit of a weight problem. That’s what Chris Farley says, right? ‘I have a bit of a weight problem.’ Man, that guy was awesome in Top Gun. Really blew my socks off. Oh, so, we couldn’t go anywhere, because Pat was too wide to fly, too fat to ride on a bus or train, and too slow to walk. We ended up floating him down a river like the lumberjacks do. They even used him in one of those log rolling competitions. Once they’ve gave Pat a cup to wear, he was excited to be a part of it.”

The constant spinning and related nausea allowed Pat to lose the excess weight, and Murph and Pat were able to resume their journey using regular methods of transportation.

With the Tragically Hip’s credit cards maxed out from the Pat’s Tim Horton binge, the boys were able to hitchhike their way south, trading miles on the road for impromptu vehicle jam sessions (Murph: “Do you know how hard it is to put a drumset into the backseat of a Nissan Sentra? Seriously, they need to remodel that thing,”). They were even able to convince a bus driver to let them aboard a Greyhound destined for Penn Station.

Pat: “With no Mick on bass, we were rather limited in terms of our musical repertoire. White Stripes. Wipe Out. Everclear. Not a lot of songs with no bass. Once the bus driver realized this, he forced Murph and me into the lavatory for the rest of the trip. Not cool.”

Outside temperatures approaching 106 degrees that day turned their unbearably small and poorly ventilated lavatory into an Easy Bake Oven, a situation that the band took in stride.

Murph: “Pat smelled like a Porterhouse Steak. It was wonderful.” Tired, broke, and slightly undercooked, the boys finally arrived in Manhattan and Pat’s Brother’s apartment, and were met at the door by…Chris Parnell?

Murph: “CHRIS PARNELL??!?! What? Really? Nuh Uhh! Pat’s Brother is Chris Parnell? SNL? Come on. We were…what’s stronger than outraged? Where’s my thesaurus? Where is it? Dammit, did I leave it in my other drumset? I did, didn’t I. Wait, you’ve got one? Throw it over. Okay…ornery, outcast, OutKast…Oh, got it. Outraged. Enraged and infuriated, that’s what we were. Enraged, infuriated, and incensed. Oh that’s a good one. We’ve known Pat for quite a while, and he never told us his brother was Chris Parnell? Come on! Really? Come on! NO! NO! Unbelievably irate was what I was.”

Pat: “Yeah, I’ll say it like this: When a member of your family, possibly your brother, joins with the angry mob that chases you out of town with torches and pitchforks, you aren’t that excited about seeing him again. I’m just putting that out there.”

The brothers had not spoken in years, and Chris (who declined to be interviewed for this exhaustive history), at first did not want anything to do with his once possibly-possessed brother (Pat: “When he saw that it was me at the door, he started loading silver bullets into his gun and shouting at me in Aramaic.”). This process of knocking, shouting, and bullet-loading went on daily for two months, until an off-handed comment by Murph brought an end to the brother’s standoff.

Murph: “I don’t know why I said it, but I just shouted ‘Come on, man, we hate Jimmy Fallon too!’ All of a sudden, Chris opened the door and asked us how he could help.”

The brothers made their peace, and Pat explained the situation as best he could (they had neither a gamma-charged proton accelerator nor an orange on hand), and asked Chris (who was in his post-weird-dancing-brothers-pre-Lazy-Sunday period at SNL) to help them connect with scientists who could help them find Mick. The entire explanation took about three hours; Murph nodded throughout.

Murph: “I had no idea what Pat was talking about, but I was ready to do anything that Mr. Parnell wanted us to do to find Mick. Did Pat tell you about when we played on the bus and ran out of songs? I almost ate Pat! He would have been delicious, but how can we be a band if one of us is in limbo and I’ve eaten the other guy? I’m all for that happening never, ever again, so I was ready to put aside any—what’s the word—“Moralities” or “Beliefables” I might have.”

Pat: “My brother said that there was only one scientist, a Ph.D from Los Angeles, who could get Mick back. To find him, we would need to descend into the most hedonistic, decadent, and self-destructive of rock star lifestyles. Only then would this scientist, this doctor find us and lead us to Mick. You know, when he first told us who we were looking for, we laughed at him. I think Murph laughed and pointed at him; no way was this a real person. Chris, though, remained serious. My liver had no idea what it was getting into.” The doctor they were in search of for was none other than Dr. Feelgood.

Next time, in part 9, Pat and Murph seek out Dr. Feelgood, and come one step closer to bringing back their bass player.

Groundless Predictions for August 2008

2008-07-29T14:57:00.004-04:00

Is that an oddly inappropriate splattering sound? It is! That means it’s time for this installment of Groundless Predictions! Cue the massively current theme music!

Marconi plays the mamba! Listen to the radio! Don’t you remember that we groundlessly predicted this city? We groundlessly predicted this city on rock and roll!

As always, these are groundless predictions for this month, August 2008.

In the midst of a riveting Summer Olympics in Beijing, China, a slew of medals won in second tier sports such as team handball, modern pentathlon, and goose jumping will inexplicably catapult Greenland to the top of the medal count. This will cause quite the stir, as not since the time of Eric the Red has anyone visited the country, making the unrelenting deluge of media on the ice-covered island wholly unprecedented.

"Would you like some hot cross buns? My wife just pulled them from the oven. There may not be enough for everyone," says Greenlandian President and steeplechase medalist Geyser Rekamanoyjicki at a national press conference attended by reporters from around the world. "So, how do these things work? Do I answer questions? Do I ask them? Are you the press?"

He adds, "Usually we just call each other if there’s news, but since you’re not from here, I would assume you don’t have a 4-digit phone number. Last call on buns. Anyone?"

In political news, tragedy strikes the John McCain’s presidential campaign during a campaign stop in Boca Raton, Fla. During a speech by her husband, Cindy McCain’s awkwardly ever-present "gee-golly-I’m-so-proud-of-my-husband" smile will begin to tremor, and in a frightening moment unseen by TV cameras, cause her body to burst at the seams.

"That woman smiled so much I never thought she was actually alive, so this was not a surprise to me at all," says local businessman Bert Tanner. "I was scared silly, though, when she sucked her innards back inside her like the Swamp Thing and sewed herself back up on the spot. Now she looks like a comic book villain. Creepy."

Tragedy will also strike the entertainment world as networks trying to seize upon the popularity of The Discovery Channel’s Shark Week will offer their own programming dedicated to dangerous predators of the animal kingdom. Notable among them will be CNN’s Razor-Throwing Volcanic Gorilla Week, which will include footage of undersized news anchor Anderson Cooper coming face to face with a pack of these savage beasts.

Says Cooper during the show: "Here is where this is happening, we’re running away, the wave of lava is fast approaching, and I’m thankful that I’m wearing my usually superfluous reporter’s vest. Hopefully that will stop the bleeding." No word yet on whether Soledad O’Brien’s special Black Bears in America will produce the same amount of carnage.

Here's more footage from Razor-Throwing Volcanic Gorilla Week.

Some Perspective on the Red Sox

2008-07-28T10:07:00.000-04:00

Thank you, Terry Francona:

"I'd take a guy that's hitting .500 that's miserable as opposed to a guy that hands out bouquets to his teammates and is hitting a buck 45. You move on. The goal is to get better from it. I think we've done a good job of that here."

The Dangers of Traveling to Tanzania

2008-07-02T07:30:00.001-04:00

I recently traveled to Tanzania on a service trip with Habitat for Humanity (check out the program here). Having never traveled to Tanzania before (or anywhere besides the friendly, saltine confines of Western Europe), I became considered about the various dangers or hazards that could befall me while on my trip. Here's the list I created.

- Hippos
- Ninja Hippos; they’re like regular hippos, except capable of stealth and sword fighting. Also, they wear sporting head bands.
- Angry flocks of flamingos
- Angry flocks of children
- Angry Flock of Seagulls
- An impromptu, Swiss-Family-Robinson-esque zebra ride gone horribly awry.
- Stuck in cement and/or devoured by ants
- General, nonspecific malfeasance
- A hole could rip in the space-time continuum, either sucking me into some sort of pan-dimensional vortex or raining down life forms and objects from all over history on our build site. If this happens, I’ll most likely be run through by one of the distinguished Knights of the Round Table; I’m hoping for Galahad.
- The dreaded leach-bat-pigs of the Northern Highlands.
- Angelina Jolie could try to adopt me.
- I could miss the rains.
- Do we know where Matthew McConaheaughy is these days? That guy could be trouble.
- Do we know how to spell Matthew McConaheaughy's name? That could be trouble too.
- Men in trench coats and stylish fedoras could drag me into a rollicking tale of mistaken identity and international intrigue.
- Crushed in an elephant stunt mishap after accidently wandering onto the set of “Operation Dumbo Drop 2: Secret of the Ooze.”
- Consumed by giant ants (the possibility of this cannot be overstated).
- I could become King of the Mole People, and be forced to live underground in exchange for the eternal youth of the underground Spring of Life.
- Bob Dylan could bite me again. I don’t know if Bob Dylan will be in Tanzania, but there’s always the chance. By the way, if I haven’t told you the story of the time Bob Dylan bit me, you’re in for a treat.

While I did return safely, I urge all those traveling abroad to be fully aware of any dangers, real or otherwise, that can be found in your destination. Making this list saved my life...I think.

The Kids in the Hall - The Search is Over

2008-06-04T18:04:00.003-04:00

A bit of back story: my favorite Kids in the Hall sketch is entitled "Nervous Break[down]fest," but despite my best efforts, I wasn't able to find it on the internet for many years. Hey, the Internet...seriously..come on.

Not finding a comedy sketch on the internet is like not finding Wheat Thins at the Grocery Store. The Internet was MADE for comedy sketches, but alas, my search proved fruitless....until NOW!

Here, in all its excessively built up delight, is the sketch, along with a few of my other favorites from our cross-dressing Canadian friends. Enjoy:

Screw You, Taxpayers!

Creative Possibilities

America!

Groundless Predictions for June 2008

2008-06-01T23:00:00.006-04:00

What’s that? It’s time again for Groundless Predictions! And Bobby’s revamped the theme song? Too good to be true!

All I wanna do is zooma zoom zoom zoom and a boom boom! Just Groundlessly Predict!
All I wanna do is zooma zoom zoom zoom and a boom boom! Just Groundlessly Predict!

As always, these are groundless predictions for this month, June 2008. For more groundless predictions (and to see if any of them have come true), click on the new "Groundless Predictions" category on the sidebar on the right of the screen. No, your right. The other right.

In what may be the final death blow to the embattled and sexually uncooperative species, scientists will announce that panda bears are the best candidate to replace oil as the humanity’s most popular natural resource. Scientists will make this amazing find when a tragic combination of natural curiosity and a lazily-strewn trail of bamboo drove a panda bear from a zoo in Gulfport, Miss. into the fiery bellows of an oil refinery, causing a massive spike in production and noticeably reducing the green house gas emissions of the plant. “If I said it once, I’ve said it a thousand times: panda bears could power the world!” says fringe scientist Yorgan St. Constantine, gloating in his new found acceptance by the energy community. He adds, “Those bears will make the most adorable fuel ever.”

In sandwich news, roast beef enthusiasts everywhere will be outraged when the city government of New York bans the tasty meat from its public transportation system, citing security concerns (it is easier to conceal chemical weapons inside roast beef) and the general public’s dislike of horseradish. While Mayor Michael Bloomberg noted that pastrami, salami, and other salted meats would be safe, no word has emerged yet on whether turkey, ham, or any of the other so-called “classic” meats will be affected by future bans.

After months of research and market testing, Disney will announce the “re-imagineering” of two classic Disney films, Song of the South and Fantasia. Unfortunately, budget cutbacks will force the two projects to shrink in scope until the point where they are combined into one sing-a-longin’, stereotypin’, acid vacation of a movie. The film, re-titled “Zip-Ahh-Dee-Doo-Dahmagination,” will most notably featuring Brer Rabbit taking the place of Mickey in the classic “Sorcerer’s Apprentice” sequence, with and I’m realizing at this point that no one is going to get this joke. How's that for a groundless prediction?

Oh, and sandpaper. Pick some up. You’ll need it. See you in July.

Virginia Summer Concert Preview

2008-05-29T17:13:00.006-04:00

Soon is the summer of our discontent, when the cool evenings and budding blossoms of spring yield to unrelenting heat and hours of "Two and a Half Men" reruns. Good thing people play music. If I lived in Virginia, here's where I'd be going this summer.

Author's Note: Some of these blurbs will appear in the June 5th edition of Fredericksburg's bastion of journalism, The Free-Lance Star. Points for correctly guessing which blurbs make the cut. That's a fun word. Blurb. Good times.

UPDATE: Rock and Roll! The aforementioned Summer Concert Preview appears in today's Free-Lance Star. You can see the full article here. You'll see my name (or initials...it's rather unsettling that my initials are "BM," isn't it?) next to previews for The National, Weird Al Yankovic, Neil Diamond, and The Irish Tenors.

June 6—The Nels Cline Singers (The Paramount: Charlottesville, VA)

While best known as the lead guitarist of alt-country band Wilco, the bread and butter of Nels Cline remains free-flowing, gasp-inducing jazz improvisation. Cline and his group are face-meltingly talented, and appreciators of jazz and budding musicians alike would do well to see these stunners in person.

June 6—Bob Saget (Warner Theatre: Washington, DC)

Despite his family-friendly days on Full House, Bob Saget grew to prominence as one of the filthiest comedians running. His stand out appearance in The Aristocrats (a film that repeatedly told the same dirty joke) and an HBO special earlier this year showed that he’s back to his cringe-inducing ways. I’d leave the kids at home if I were you.

June 16—Big Bad Voodoo Daddy (Birchmere: Alexandria, VA)

The swing rebirth of the Mid-90’s has come and gone, but Scotty and the boys of Big Bad Voodoo Daddy are still kicking, their gutsy horns and classic style keeping them in demand. You really can’t go wrong with a night of rollicking swing music, and Big Bad Voodoo Daddy does it better than anyone else.

June 22—The National (The National: Richmond, VA)

Well-crafted songs and the haunting baritone of lead singer Matt Berninger had already made The National the darling of the independent music set, but their widely acclaimed 2007 album “Boxer” showed signs that the band was poised for a breakthrough. This summer could be The National’s coming out party, as the rest of us will find out what the cool kids in class have been telling us all along.

July 3—Bruce in the USA (Toad’s Place: Richmond, VA)

As amazing as it would be to spend Independence Day rocking with Bruce Springsteen, he’ll be in Sweden, and this cover band is the closest you’ll come to seeing him live. Make the most of it; grab a hot dog, light a bottle rocket and give thanks that we live in a country where someone with only a bandana and a dream can make a living as the Boss.

July 8—“Weird Al” Yankovic (The National: Richmond, VA)

While many of the artists he has parodied have faded from the limelight, Yankovic remains, his parodies of music and pop culture still exuding wit and deftness. His big, shiny stage shows have become an attraction in and of themselves, and if nothing else, you’ll get to see a curly-headed man play the accordion. That doesn’t happen every day.

July 18—Jim Gaffigan (Landmark Theater: Richmond, VA)

Best known as the palest comedian around, Jim Gaffigan’s combination of self-deprecating humor and droll delivery make him as popular with comedy nerds as mainstream audiences. You’ll never know how funny manatees, sleep and Hot Pockets are until you see Gaffigan on stage.

July 22—Mark Knopfler (Wolftrap Filene Center: Vienna, VA)

The former lead singer of 80’s stalwarts Dire Straits has kept the flame burning, remaining an inspired guitarist and songsmith long after “Money for Nothing” and “Sultans of Swing” entered the rotations of classic rock stations. Wolf Trap is the perfect venue for Knopfler, as the outdoor setting will allow his exquisite guitar solos to wander gently up into the humid summer night.

August 5—Neil Diamond* (Verizon Center: Washington, DC)

Neil Diamond seemed destined for the nostalgia circuit until famed producer Rick Rubin breathed new life into his music, helping him create two albums (“12 Songs” and “Home Before Dark”) as textured and touching as anything from his more than forty year career. Forget the sequined shirts; this reenergized Neil Diamond is not to be missed.

August 24—The Irish Tenors (Wolftrap Filene Center, Vienna, VA)

I wouldn’t have an insanely long Irish name if I didn’t think the Irish Tenors were among the “can’t miss” shows of the summer. Their strong, impassioned voices evoke visions of the vast green isle an ocean away, and if you don’t get a wee bit misty-eyed when they perform “When Irish Eyes are Smiling,” then you may as well give back that “Kiss Me I’m Irish” button you wear every St. Patrick’s Day.

Cnn.com Critique, Part 3

2008-05-20T13:57:00.002-04:00

Scroll down for Part 1 and Part 2 of my critique of CNN.com, with special red-letter commentary by the author:

WHAT YOU SEE IS WHAT YOU GET.

—Now seems like a good time to input some lyrics by New Zealand’s own Crowded House:

Hey now, hey now, don't dream it's over
Hey now, hey now, when the world comes in
They come, they come to build a wall between us
We know they won't win

CNN.com has a real tendency to focus solely on irrelevant minutia, which speaks to the site’s other glaring weakness: CNN.com has no ability or interest in examining the larger trends and themes of today’s world—the other ending for this sentence was “CNN.com refuses to admit that the country of Spain and all its inhabitants exist.”. The site features only the most superficial coverage, containing little investigative journalism, overarching analysis, or contextualization of today’s events. Specifically, the site publishes very few in-depth or trend features, boasts no dedicated opinion section, and promptly bumps yesterday’s “major story” from the headlines in lieu of banal developments from other events—banal is a fun word.

Simply put, CNN.com fails to see the forest from the trees—much like I fail to see the fact that I was overusing clichés.. The site shows no desire to report what happened two hours ago much less two days go; it focuses so intently on only the absolute latest developments of an ongoing story that it loses any sense of the big picture, the larger narrative created out of all these tiny bits of detail.

Case in point, CNN.com’s continuing coverage of rising gas prices around the United States covers only minute developments and fails to examine larger issues. A quick read of recent articles on the topic suggests that CNN.com prefers to keep it simple, reporting on fluctuations in gas prices (“Oil finishes at new record - $111.76” and “$100 fill-ups arrive at gas pumps”) and producing fluffy—although not as fluffy as narcoleptic bear cubs-- stories on how consumers are faring (“Leadfoot drivers mull slowdown to cut gas cost”).

The coverage delves no deeper than that. The site neglects reporting on the effects of gas hikes on food prices, how American companies are adjusting to these cost increases, or how higher gas prices could dramatically change how Americans live. —i.e., a thought provoking story on how Americans may be forced to use their children’s nightmares as fuel in the future. It neither offers investigative pieces on why gas prices are so high nor gives any insight into how long they will stay that way. Most of all, it fails to create a larger narrative about gas prices, providing readers with little context as to what the recent prices changes mean in the long run. —Who doesn’t love the word “narrative?” Big fan.

Even the site’s commentary and opinion pieces, which appear to be little more than an attempt to promote the network’s programming, are completely lacking in any sense of history or depth. The work of Glenn Beck, for example, offers not a speck of thoughtful analysis or well-reasoned argument, and merely highlights his views on the superficial aspects of a particular story. In fact, his pieces, including the not-so-cleverly titled “America Needs a 12 Step Program” and “Debit Cards for Everyone,” oddly seem to follow a similar pattern:

—This next portion was nothing more than a throw-away joke that I liked far too much for its own good. Was it necessary to the piece? Probably not, but I cherish every opportunity to make fun of Glenn Beck.

“I’m Glenn Beck – Have you seen this news story?– Smart people say this about it, but they’re wrong – here’s an idea about the topic that I’ll put forth as a controversial but that everyone actually agrees on—at this point, I deleted “did I mention I’m a recovering alcoholic? I did? Good."—here’s a crazy, seemingly impossible solution that I’ll put forth as sensible – I’m Glenn Beck.”

RECOMMENDATIONS.

Needless to say, CNN.com has definite room for improvement—alternate version “the biggest room in CNN.com’s house is its room for improvement,” but I did not include because I respect Tracy Jordan far too much, and it begins with enhancing the way the site handles breaking news. The site cannot cry wolf with every new development, so being more intentional about what stories get promoted to “Latest News” and how stories are chosen would go a long way to decreasing the filler on the site. —It could also stop publishing anything that includes the phrase “caught on tape,” but beggars cannot be choosers.

Further, the makers of the site should offer more to readers than just the news of that moment; they would do well to create a second level of coverage that brings readers deeper into a story. Providing an area of the site that discusses the day’s events in a larger context would allow the site to increase its readership, and given their relationship with Time.com, CNN.com is already equipped to do this. The makers only need to create a dedicated space for Time’s editorials and features on their homepage to integrate more in-depth content into CNN.com. —Another nice paragraph, with helpful solutions and no mention of my hope that CNN.com could improve itself by adding a “Submarine News” section to its site.

These recommendations are given with a caveat, though; with CNN.com’s phenomenal success, a larger number of readers appear to be satisfied enough with what the site offers that they return time and time again. The Internet rewards massive specialization, the ability to find one thing and do it very well; accordingly, CNN.com has found its niche, creating a site that adeptly reports breaking news and little else. These recommendations, though, would dramatically improve the site both in the short and long term, and adding to their already winning formula may be just what CNN.com needs to remain on top.

—So that’s it. I hope you enjoyed.

Cnn.com Critique, Part 2

2008-05-20T12:57:00.003-04:00

Scroll down for Part 1 of my critique of CNN.com, with special red-letter commentary by the author:

Moving on, my friend tells me that everything is funnier when you add “in bed” afterwards. Let’s see if that’s the case:

CNN.com’s commitment to breaking news is vital to its survival—in bed in the age of new media. Given the alarming speed at which information travels –in bed and Americans’ near ubiquitous access to the Internet—in bed, Web sites can provide in-depth news with a speed – in bed that other mediums cannot. Thus, Web news outlets have become more capable of breaking major news stories – in bed than their competitors at television or radio.

--Not so much. I call that a failure.

Given its setup and coverage, the makers of CNN.com show that they understand this reality; the site’s focus gives readers confidence that they are getting the most up-to-date information possible on the day’s events, especially during crisis situations.

BUT WHEN THE SKY ISN’T FALLING… --AGAIN with the kickass intro. It’s like I was born to shine.

This approach, however, has a sizable Achilles’ Heel; most of the time, major news is not happening, and with so many resources dedicated to rapid updates and new information, CNN.com is most often forced to fill its site with “breaking news” that is anything but. CNN.com’s greatest strength thus manifests itself as one of its more glaring weaknesses, namely that when news is not occuring, CNN.com covers and promotes “news” that is either uninteresting filler or irrelevant minutia. –For those who don’t know, “minutia” is an old wooden ship used during colonial times.

A quick look at the headlines from Tuesday, April 29, 2008 demonstrates this point. For every legitimate and interesting news story that entered the “Latest News” section (“Foreclosures in ’08 spike 112%,” “At least 140 homes hit by Virginia tornadoes,” “Grand Theft Auto 4 set to set sales records,”), markedly more stories had no business there whatsoever. Plenty of examples exist, but the least newsworthy of them were “Spears coming back to ‘How I Met Your Mother,” “Snoozy baby bear can’t stay awake,” and “40-lb. hunk of metal hits driver in face.”

Even to the undiscerning eye, the stories in the latter category have no pressing or time-sensitive element to them and are devoid of anything that could be considered national news. For as adorable as it was to watch—And I really can’t stress this enough: the video of the snoozy baby bear was magnificently adorable, a video of a baby bear failing to stay awake does not qualify as newsworthy, unless that bear has a strong link to Al Qaeda or has the cure to Avian Flu stored somewhere in his pudgy little frame.

Critique of CNN.com with Commentary, Part 1

2008-05-20T11:54:00.001-04:00

Author's Note: I originally when applying for a fellowship at a “prominent media company." When the email came that I was not accepted, I knew I needed to take those lemons and make some delicious trash can lemonade (1 part smirnoff, 1 part pink lemonade powder, 1 part lemon line soft drink, add ice and stir). In doing so, I added a running commentary (which you will see in red) to this droll and pedestrian critique of CNN.com. Enjoy.

INTRODUCTION

CNN.com, without a doubt, stands alone as the 500 pound gorilla Really, did I go with 500 pound gorilla as my simile? Weak from the start. of Internet news Web sites. The site receives a huge amount of traffic, reaching roughly 1.5% of global Internet users, far more than its competitors at Fox, NBC, ABC or CBS. Further, the site ranks sixteenth in overall Web site traffic in the United States, beating out such notable sites as ESPN.com, Flickr.com and Weather.com (all statistics courtesy of Alexa.com). In this section, I neglected to mention that CNN.com has some healthy competition from sites that include the word “boob” in their name.

Given its name recognition and ability to report breaking news effectively, CNN.com’s success and high standing are logical and deserved, but the site is not without its flaws. Flaws? Interesting Bobby. Please go on. Most notably, CNN.com is built to report breaking news and little else, leading to countless news stories that are not worthy of coverage and little examination of larger themes and issues.

This critique will examine these issues with recent examples from the site and offer recommendations upon which CNN.com may improve. Hopefully, the criticism will be received better than that time I asked my then-girlfriend to stop trying to make “fetch” happen. Wait, did I just make a Mean Girls reference? I did. Wow. No wonder I didn’t get this fellowship. While the site has numerous pages focusing on a variety of topics, this critique will focus on news and content found on their Home Page and will limit its analysis to articles and print pieces published on the site.

THIS JUST IN. .Oh you know you love the clever lead-in.

Above all else, CNN.com excels at reporting breaking news, an attribute that emerges as the greatest strength of the Web site. Stories on the site give accurate and detailed accounts of current news, providing as much up-to-date information as possible. As events in the field develop, so does the site, filling in the missing pieces and giving readers a more complete picture of the situation. A fine paragraph for sure, especially when you consider that I cut out the rampant profanity and racial slurs that populated earlier drafts.

The site’s keen ability to report breaking news is enhanced by its construction and maintenance. Stories are updated rapidly, with the newest reports entering a “Latest News” section at the top of the page. New headlines are broadcast in commanding red or yellow boxes--Red and Yellow Boxes! It’s like we live in the future! How are they able to change the colors on my screen? alerting readers to the most pressing details of the moment, and stories are labeled to indicate how recently the information has been updated. In most cases, that time is under an hour. –Similarly, under an hour is the same time it takes me to get through an 8 minute abs routine.

This ability to report breaking news with accuracy and alacrity was demonstrated in the aftermath of Cyclone Nargis, which recently struck Myanmar. When government reports indicated that the death toll was much higher than originally reported, CNN.com posted a solid and specific report, updating the story constantly and time-stamping each new development. Beyond that, it promoted the story to the top of its page and labeled it under a large red banner for emphasis. –Yeah, no jokes in the Cylcone Nargis paragraph, but does anyone know how to pronounce Nargis? Most of the major media outlets have just been saying “THE cyclone,” so I’m curious. If you know, post in the comments section.

Groundless Predictions for May 2008

2008-05-09T18:11:00.008-04:00

Crash! Boom! Bang! Boink! Those archaic sounds from the time machines on early science fiction television shows can only mean one thing! That’s right; it’s the return of Groundless Predictions. As always, these are completely groundless predictions for this month, May 2008. Cue the completely original theme music:

Hey Hey! You You! Groundless Predictions! Hey Hey! You You! You know wanna see them! Hey Hey! You You! Groundless Predictions! Hey Hey! You You! Time for you to read them!

--After more than a year of non-stop campaigning and (at last count) 15 instances of reinvention, many noted pundits thought that the Democratic primary between Sen. Barack “The Unstoppable Force” Obama and Sen. Hillary “The Immovable Object” Clinton had reached an absolutely irresolvable deadlock. In the hopes of inflicting no further damage to the party (at the time, polls showed that 117% of Clinton supporters would rather destroy the Constitution and name George Bush "King of America" than say the name “Obama”), Democratic leaders could see of no other way to find a winner than one: Thunderdome.

Armed with razor-covered roller skates, crude implements of destruction, and earth-shaking rhetorical flourishes, Clinton and Obama fought for nearly two weeks until neither was able to stand. At this point of inconceivable exhaustion, Obama yelled “CAN’T WE JUST FLIP A COIN?” to which Clinton responded, “YES. COIN FLIP WOULD BE GREAT!” Given a solution that required neither loss of life nor a Bruckheimer-sized production, Democratic leaders saw their mistake, regretted their choice, and decided to let the fight continue indefinitely. As of this writing, no winner has emerged.

--The chicken burrito bowl at Chipotle will be a bad idea. Better to go with the carnitas tacos. You’ll understand.

--In an update on last month’s groundless prediction, Nancy Grace has yet to land on earth after President Bush, seeking a positive spin on his bleak-looking legacy, pushed her out of an airplane. No word yet as to why it has taken her so long to fall to Earth, but theologians theorize that queen of speculation television is being kept in some sort of George Bailey-esque limbo in order to learn valuable life lessons.

--In a moment that will stun fans and mild observers alike, teen sensation David Archuleta will be crowned the American Idol, sing a gushing and vacuous rendition of “That’s What Friends are For,” and then rip off his disguise to reveal that he is none other than noted baseball fan and allegedly-talented actor/director Kevin Costner. When asked why Costner concocted an amazingly elaborate scheme that cost him 8 million dollars and could potentially ruin his career, Costner stared blankly toward the horizon and said, “Remember that time I made Dances with Wolves? That was a good one.”

The Democratic Primary Campaign in 7 Minutes

2008-05-06T23:32:00.002-04:00

Too good. Just too good:

Intrepid Rock Journalism: Joan Jett

2008-04-27T16:31:00.005-04:00

Author's Note: This piece, in a somewhat edited form, is slated to appear in the Thursday, May 1st edition of the Frederickburg's appropriately lauded news destination, The Free-Lance Star, most likely on the cover of the Weekender section. For more information on how Joan Jett can rock your world in the meantime, visit Joan Jett's website.

5/1 UPDATE: Rock and Roll. The piece, slightly edited, appeared in today's FLS, hitting the cover of the Weekender section and featuring four different photographs along for its rockin' ride. Follow the link to experience the magic. Now, enjoy:

Some people take the road less traveled. Joan Jett had to build her own.

With a career going on more than three decades, rock icon and pioneer Joan Jett has singularly made her own success like none other in rock music, pushing boundaries and shattering perceptions of what one artist, man or woman, can do. Jett, with her back-up band The Blackhearts, will headline the 12^th Annual Cinco De Mayo Fiesta at Richmond’s Brown’s Island on Saturday, May 3.

Best known for fist-in-the-air rock hits “I Love Rock and Roll,” “Bad Reputation” and “I Hate Myself for Loving You,” Joan Jett has blazed a wide trail through music, kicking out punchy, straight ahead rock and roll that is as classic as it is rebellious. She will release a greatest hits album, “Fit to be Tied,” in June.

As a teenager, Jett helped found the groundbreaking punk band The Runaways, the first major all-girl band to hit the mainstream.

“We saw the world around us--saw the music scene around us--and none of that included girls playing rock and roll,” said Jett, during a recent phone interview. “We knew that it was going to be something that people would respond to.”

Although treated as somewhat of a gimmick group in the U.S. (teenage girls playing their own instruments? The circus must be in town!), the group found massive, riot-sparking success elsewhere.

“In some places like Japan, The Runaways are huge—really huge. I don’t want to say The Beatles huge, but--The Beatles huge,” said Jett. “Thousands and thousands of girls screaming and chasing us down the street. It was just crazy.”

After the breakup of The Runaways, Jett struck out on her own, recording the songs that would make her an icon. Her body of work, both with The Runaways and as Joan Jett and the Blackhearts, has been highly influential, showing an entire generation that girls can play just as brash and hard as the boys can.

After so many years in the music business, however, Jett is still disheartened at the lack of progress by female rock musicians.

“It gets very frustrating to me--this many years after The Runaways--to think that that girls have not really come anywhere,” said Jett. “There aren’t girls being played on the radio. They’re not in the press. It’s not a standard thing. It’s still sort of looked at as a novelty.”

In many ways, though, Jett remains a bit of a novelty herself, as it’s challenging to find an artist with both her great success and her unwavering determination in going her own way. Finding no labels willing to release her music, she stuck to her guns and started Blackheart Records in the early 1980’s. In doing so, she became the first major female artist to own her own record label.

Beyond music, Jett has performed extensively for the U.S. Armed Forces, but in bucking the trend set by most famous musicians, she has staunchly avoided most media attention about her work with the troops. As she describes it, playing for the men and women in uniform is a personal thing, something she does for no one but them. Likewise, she keeps tight wraps on her work and only reluctantly talks about her experiences.

“I don’t think it’s something you do for publicity. I think you do it because you care about the people who put their life on the line for American ideals,” said Jett.

Jett, who for a time seriously considered joining a branch of the military, has played throughout the world with the USO. She traveled deep into Pakistan and Uzbekistan after 9/11 and was the first artist to play for the troops during the Kosovo conflict.

“I like going to the [expletive] places.” Jett said, expressing that she values the opportunity to go downrange and interact with the troops in the field. “You want to go to the places where the soldiers go ‘What are you doing here?’”

It’s not that Joan Jett defies labels or definition; it’s that Joan Jett has so many appropriate labels that it’s difficult to keep track of them all. Pioneer. Activist. Punk. Entrepreneur. She really is all these seemingly disparate things in one, creating an artist who has stayed true to what she believed despite what the world around her said. When asked to define herself, it couldn’t be simpler.

“Everybody always calls me Joan Jett. They don’t call me Joan. I am Joan the musician. I guess that’s what I am."

Environmental Taglines for Your Emails

2008-04-09T15:21:00.006-04:00

In this new age of environmental conscience, many people are finding new and more pressing ways of living a lil bit greener. Take for example this email tagline, usually found beneath the signature:

P Please consider the environment before printing this email

Note: If you're looking at this post on Firefox, then you probably just see some big letters. Switch over to Internet Explorer and unleash the greatness that is the font "Webdings."

Simple, effective, even color coordinated. But why stop there?

P Please consider how much I hate trees and recklessly print out this email.
z If you’re going to print out this email, please do not burn it when you are finished.
A Please note that I will hang you if you print out this email.
S Every time an email is needlessly printed, a stadium full of koala bears dies.
E This is what all of Earth will look like if you continue unnecessarily printing out emails.

Remember, think globally and act locally. Make a difference. Be somebody.

News From Americus

2008-04-01T08:43:00.001-04:00

I heard this on the radio morning news, and I thought it would be good to share it:

In a random test of the area water supply, professors at GSW found dangerously high levels of dihydrogen monoxide in the water table of Sumter County. City and County officials in Americus are vehemently denying these allegations.

Dihydrogen monoxide is a colorless and odorless chemical compound that can mutate DNA, denature proteins, disrupt cell membranes, and chemically alter critical neurotransmitters. Among other purposes, the compound is used as an industrial solvent and coolant and in pesticide production and distribution. While it is safe in small amounts, prolonged exposure can cause trauma and death in humans.

I urge you to call your local government and demand that they face facts about the extreme levels of dihydrogen monoxide in our nation's water supply. It’s imperative that we fix this problem before it is too late. That is all.

My Resume.

2008-03-28T16:42:00.003-04:00

Click the Image for Greater Detail. Trust me, it'll make it far easier to read.

Groundless Predictions for April

2008-03-24T20:14:00.007-04:00

As is the custom for the new year, pundits, bloggers, thinkers of note, and my imaginary girlfriend often make predictions about what events will transpire in the year to come. I fit into at least half of those categories, but as I was hibernating for the first 3 months of the year (many people are surprised to find out that my great-great-grandmother on my father’s side was a panda bear), I have been unable to join in the groundless predictioning until…right…now:

In the last gasps of his administration, George W. Bush will seek to counteract the death wave of negative opinion about his administration, his place in history, and his unnervingly small hands by advocating for a bevy of unnecessary and wasteful bills aimed only at increasing his popularity. Despite the predictions of major news outlets, they will be successful, and George W Bush will secure his place in history as “The President who made peanut butter free,” “The President who bought me a toaster,” and “The President who pushed Nancy Grace out of a plane.”

Fresh of their World Series victory in 2007, The Boston Red Sox will begin their season by playing the Oakland Athletics in Japan. Playing in his home country, Daisuke Matzusaka will give up 2 hits, strike out 14, and not allow a runner past 2^nd in 8 shut out innings. The Red Sox close out the game by sending highly touted relief pitcher Godzilla into the game, who will strike out the side, defeat Mothra, and return to his volcano home to rest his ailing shoulder.

Thanks to the success of “Flava of Love" and “Rock of Love,” networks around the TV dial will launch their own “Noun of Love” dating shows featuring similarly sexually frustrated and washed up personalities from the 80’s. While most of these new programs will be trite and repetitive in comparison to the existing shows (which are trite and repetitive in and of themselves), one bright spot will shine through the darkness: C-Span will strike big with their hit “Hart of Love,” featuring former Presidential candidate and known philanderer Gary Hart and a bevy on 19 year old women who think that George McGovern was Jerry's best friend on Seinfeld.

And now, for no reason whatsoever, a polar bear cub.

Reads and Links for your Eads and Inks

2008-03-12T20:31:00.007-04:00

Some excellent links and reads for you to visit and...well...read.

--Bill Simmons, usually known for the snarky yet subtle blend of pop culture, sports, and obscure references, writes a touching piece about the murder of high school football star in Los Angeles. What makes it stand out is the immediacy of his words; you feel like you're there, sitting next to him the entire time.

--Chuck Klosterman, a shaggy haired writer that can make anything sound exceedingly complex, writes a treatise on the road film for The Believer. If you're wondering if you'll like it, ask yourself these two questions: "Did you enjoy the movie Duel?" and "Do you enjoy using the word treatise?"

--Frank Rose, of whom I've never heard, writes an interesting (and seemingly well-researched) piece about video rights and how people who make decisions are dumb.

--Mark Glaser, of whom I've also never heard, writes an interesting (and seemingly well-concieved) piece about whether he's a journalist or a blogger. Personally, I think he's a robot sent back in time to save John Connor.

--Not a read, not a link. Just an adorable polar bear cub wrestling with a soccer ball.

--The Wire stands out on the lonely mountain top of "the greatest shows I've never seen," so recommending interviews with David Simon requires a bit of a leap. Still, head over to the Onion AV Club for a chat with the greatest friend inept leaders have ever had (wait...no).

--Given that I am in AmeriCorps, do you know how many times I would need to have sex with Eliot Spitzer to equal my current salary? Three times. Slate, though, raises an interesting question: Did Eliot Spitzer not spend enough on prostitutes?

--If you're an organ donor, visit Save7Lives to learn about the process of what happens when you go veggie (unless you're giving one a kidney away, which means you won't go veggie for a while) and how to convince others to give the gift of life to others. If you're not an organ donor, then you're just giving the zombies more to munch on.

--I'm going here for St. Patrick's Day. There's no way on earth I am prepared.

I Saw Johnny Depp at the Denver Airport

2008-03-10T19:49:00.003-04:00

“Yes indeed,” I said to myself. “That's Johnny 21 fricking Jump Street Depp.”

"Just to be sure, did I actually just see Johnny Depp? Let’s run through the evidence: Looked like him. Tattered Viper Room jacket. Engaged yet aloof look. Yes, I’m quite positive that was Johnny Depp."

Here's how it happened: I was walking one way on the moving sidewalk (I genuinely enjoy the moving sidewalk experience because for those brief moments, I feel like I have super powers. Yes, that’s right people on the non-moving walkway next to me, I can effortlessly glide at blazing speeds compared to you) while Johnny Depp leaned against the railing going the opposite direction. Reaching the end of my sidewalk, I immediately boarded the adjacent moving sidewalk and began moseying in the direction of the star of such films as Edward Scissorhands, Pirates of the Caribbean, and Once Upon A Time in Mexico.

While other questions entered my mind (most were combinations of “Johnny Depp,” “Denver” and “What the Hell”), one caused me to stop my moseying about 10 yards away from contact: What do I really need to say to Johnny Depp? I like some his movies, but beyond “Hey, man, you were awesome in Fear and Loathing,” I’ve really got nothing to work with here.

Thankfully, I resisted the urge to approach Johnny Depp and say the above sentence, but the question still lingers with me: Is there something I really need to say to Johnny Depp? Just because he sometimes enters my television certainly does not make him my friend; nor does it make it acceptable for me to walk up to him and start talking. We’re total strangers. Unless he drops something or needs prompt medical attention from someone with minimal Red Cross training, making contact with him would just be weird. Really weird.

I know that some people wouldn’t make the choice that I did; they’d go up to him, say “You’re Johnny Depp! I see you on my TV! I know it’s you! I LOVE YOU,” and ask him for a picture. I’m no Johnny Depp-ologist, but I imagine that having random strangers approach you while at the Denver airport would not be on your list of fun things to do for the day.

It’s not that we’re too small or insignificant to interact with Johnny Depp; it’s just the opposite. I worry that some people think they’re so special or important that they feel like they have some right to disturb someone they’ve never met just to tell them something; that Johnny Depp NEEDS to hear what they have to say. They may think “I must tell Johnny Depp how good he is, because otherwise, he may not know.”

Worse yet, they would probably be motivated not by a genuine or humble desire to thank Johnny Depp for the hours of entertainment that he has brought to their lives, but only so that they could be “cool” in front of their friends. After their brief encounter, I imagine that some would immediately send out a mass text message saying, “I TALKED TO JOHNNY DEPP AT THE DENVER AIRPORT, AND HE WAS SOOOOO COOOOOOL!”

Mind you, this is sheer speculation, but I can certainly see this happening.

The moral of the story is this: He’s just a guy. Just a dude going through the airport trying to chill out, and no amount of “this could be a great story” will make it all right for someone to be a doob. So, next time you see a celebrity (Johnny Depp, for example) in an airport (Denver, for example), just them let do their thing. Don’t be a doob.

Dubious Debatables

2008-03-09T22:52:00.004-04:00

Have your friendships reached the awkward "we have nothing to discuss" stage? Need something to prolong the magic? Try some of these untried conversation starters, many of which I made up while under the influence of cold medicine:

Ham or Turkey? Who wins in a spelling bee?
Which do you prefer? Mayonnaise or Darth Vader?
What would you rather create? Visionary rap music or unbelievably good sandwiches?
What would you rather resurrect? Elvis Presley or The Gold Standard?
If you were to be eaten by a shark, what species would you prefer?
What likable celebrity do you think is secretly a cannibal?

More coming soon!

Human Giant Interview Outtakes

2008-03-03T20:15:00.008-05:00

Here's more from Human Giant that we were unable to include in the Free Lance Star piece. Nothing explosive, just some interesting insights on MTV, their comedy, and Vin Diesel. Yes, THE Vin Diesel.

On the show coming to MTV:

“We didn’t really think about in terms of ‘oh, we should try to get a tv show’—we never pitched MTV--We were just doing this because we were having fun doing it. They came to us and asked us to do a pilot.” -Rob Huebel

On the transition of MTV:

“When I was growing up--when I was in high school--that’s what I felt was really awesome. They were doing this really edgy, cool stuff, and then, for whatever reason, they got a way from that, and stuff became more mainstream. And that’s fine. It makes sense. Why not have really popular shows that everyone in the world likes?” -Rob Huebel

On playing high status yet idiotic characters:

“That’s a really fun attitude to play--people who are really dumb and get really angry or people who are high status but really dumb, those are attitudes we gravitate to.” -Aziz Ansari

More on those characters:

"In their own mind, they’re big fish." - Paul Scheer

On the efforts aimed at getting Vin Diesel to appear this season:

“This year, we actually went out to Vin Diesel for a sketch, and we were really excited to get him, and we found out who is his agent was, and I emailed his agent, and his agent contacted him, and I got an email back REALLY FAST from his agent saying “Sorry, this one is not for the Deez.” -Rob Huebel

On Tom Selleck appearing this season (in the now infamous "Magnum and the PI's" sketch):

"Unfortunately, Tom Selleck will not be in Season 2, but he will be in Season 8. I think that’s something we should start advertising now. He said that if we’re on for 8 seasons, he’ll come and do that sketch." -Paul Scheer

Watch the Season Premiere of Human Giant Next Tuesday, March 11, on MTV. Do it, or I'm throwing a bunny into a wood chipper.

Intrepid Comedy Journalism: Human Giant

2008-02-26T20:11:00.007-05:00

Author's Note: This piece is slated to appear in the Etc. portion of the Weekender section of Fredericksburg bastion of journalism, The Free Lance Star, on Thursday, February 28. Thanks to Human Giant for taking the time to talk about their work. For more info about the upcoming season, Paul Scheer, Rob Huebel, or Aziz Ansari, click the links.

UPDATE: Much to the general amusement of many, the piece appeared (although edited slightly) in the February 28, 2008 edition of The Free Lance Star. Go here to see it.
_______________________________

If you’ve never heard of Human Giant, you’re not alone. You may be soon, though.

Alternative comedy darlings and minor Internet sensations Human Giant are poised to break through into the mainstream, bringing with them some of the most refreshingly inventive and aggressively absurd comedy in a generation. Their self-titled MTV show of sketches and short films returns for its second season on March 11, and the DVD set of their first season releases March 4.

Human Giant is comprised of Rob Huebel, Paul Scheer and Aziz Ansari, all established performers in the New York comedy scene and successful comics in their own right. Huebel and Scheer are veteran improv actors who appear regularly on VH1’s Best Week Ever, and Ansari won the Jury Award for Best Standup at the US Comedy Arts Festival.

“We never formally sat down and said ‘let’s form a group called Human Giant,” says Huebel, during a recent phone interview. The group evolved naturally out of their enjoyment in performing together and their similar tastes in comedy. “We were friends in New York—running in the same circles because we were performing a lot—and we started making these videos that we really liked and wanted to show around town.”

“These videos”—off-kilter and web-friendly short comedy films—built Human Giant an Internet following through blogs, buzz, and word of mouth (“the old-fashioned way” for the YouTube generation), exciting the network brass at MTV enough to offer the group a primetime program.

MTV seems like an odd place for this style of comedy, especially when shown between reruns of “Pimp My Ride” and “My Super Sweet Sixteen.” Human Giant is content not to fit in, instead seeing itself as a throwback to the riskier, edgier days of MTV. Thanks to this uncompromising style and a wealth of creative freedom given by the embattled network, the group is flourishing.

“We don’t really ever make an attempt to appeal to [MTV’s] audience,” said Huebel. “We pretty much just do what we think is funny, and MTV is cool enough with us to let us do what we want.”

Human Giant does things their way, which means focusing on being funny and leaving the overwrought social commentary for someone else. As Scheer said, “We never try to go into an idea and say ‘we want to expose this thing that’s going on.’ We just aim for being funny, and a lot of times it’s worked out where it’s not just a sketch with a wig and a fake moustache.”

What follows from just making themselves laugh, though, is wickedly smart sketch comedy in the tradition of Mr. Show with Bob and David and The Kids in the Hall. Their sketches often feature egotistic yet idiotic characters, or as Scheer describes them, “high status dumb people.”

Ansari adds, “I think that’s something we gravitate to—it’s a fun attitude to play.”

This approach is best seen in recurring characters “The Illusionators,” two self-obsessed, dim-witted, Criss Angel-esque magicians played by Scheer and Ansari. In one scene, the pair, in all their larger than life glory, attempts to update the classic “catch a bullet in your teeth” trick with, what else, shoulder-fired missiles.

While you can imagine what happens next (the words “blown,” “to,” and “smithereens” were involved), Scheer and Ansari commit so strongly to these characters that the audience almost believes they’ll pull off the trick.

This complete commitment allows the group to do incredibly intelligent comedy with incredibly idiotic characters, and it’s the central reason why the group is poised on the tipping point between underground acclaim and widespread acceptance. Right now, Human Giant is the bootleg tape of the unknown band, the new book slowly climbing the best seller list, and mainstream audiences may soon be catching up to what Human Giant has been doing all along. Start watching the show now, and you can tell your friends that you liked Human Giant before they got big.

A good way to go: Fairy Cake Edition

2008-02-26T18:05:00.004-05:00

Click the link above for my chosen method of leaving God's green earth: Death by Cake. I should say though, that it wasn't just any cake. No no no. It was fairy cake.

A cautionary tale if there ever was one.

Finding a Home: Continuing a Journey of Service

2008-02-25T20:32:00.000-05:00

Author's Note: This piece appears in the Spring 2008 edition of FrameWorks, the newsletter for Habitat for Humanity's Youth Programs department (I work there. It's sweet). Click the title link for the entire issue, and for more information about Habitat for Humanity and how you can get involved in the elimination of poverty housing, click here (for Youth Programs) or here (for the whole shebang).

_____

My journey toward Americus, the home of Habitat for Humanity International, started back in college. Although how I serve has changed, I have continued learning about how to create positive change in the lives of others and connect with something much larger than myself.

Looking back at my time in college, I feel grateful that I had a wide range of opportunities to serve others. During my three alternative break trips, I cleared debris in hurricane-ravaged Florida and Mississippi and tutored at-risk youth in impoverished southwest Baltimore, helping me experience the transformative power of service. I saw firsthand the dedication of people who had so little and yet gave so much of themselves to others.

That time spent working, building, and serving in community with others instilled in me a deep desire to work for justice. Upon a return visit to school last year, I realized that I wanted to continue my journey and make a more substantial commitment to positive change.

That realization led me to commit to a year of AmeriCorps service with Habitat for Humanity, where I currently serve in the Youth Programs department. My role involves supporting affiliates who participate in Youth United, in which community youth come together to completely fund and build a Habitat home. Sometimes, this means doing run-of-the-mill tasks, including making phone calls, creating databases, and ensuring that fliers have the correct logo.

I have learned, though, that while those tasks may seem small, they are as valuable to Habitat as driving nails and hanging dry wall. Someone has to do the behind the scenes work—editing manuals, coordinating training sessions, moderating conference calls—that allows others to experience our mission more fully. While my job is rarely glamorous, the value of my job lies in what it adds to the larger movement to end poverty housing.

When you look at the big picture and add my contribution to what thousands of volunteers and employees do each day, you see that we are gaining momentum. Our collective efforts move
us closer to our ultimate goal of eliminating poverty housing, helping bring new hope and joy to the lives of the families with whom we serve.

The fact that the work of thousands of Habitat volunteers and employees is necessary and vital to our mission speaks to how transcendent our undertaking truly is. For all of our different experiences and backgrounds, we each have found a place in Habitat to call our own. Habitat allows us the space to serve in whatever way we can; in hearing the call to serve, we each bring our particular gifts and talents to the mission.

For the time being, I have traded calluses for carpal tunnel, painting for PowerPoint, and clearing debris for clearing out my inbox. The work has changed but I continue to feel as connected to the social justice mission as I did when I was going on alternative spring breaks. I haven’t decided what I’m doing next year, but I feel grateful knowing that I’ve played a part in improving the lives of so many families. Wherever my journey takes me next, I’ll take the lessons I’ve learned and share them along the way.

A good way to go.

2008-02-25T10:55:00.003-05:00

I can say, without hesitation, that if I was a shoe, this is how I would like to go; slowly gnawed out of existence by an adorable polar bear living in Germany.

My Oscar Acceptance Speech

2008-02-24T16:52:00.002-05:00

Thanks to the fine folks at Radar Online, I was able to MadLibs my oscar acceptance speech. Quite an exciting moment. Follow the link in the title line to make one yourself. Enjoy

YOUR OSCAR SPEECH

Wow. Oh boy. I wasn't going to prepare a speech, but my ailing relative told me I'd jinx myself if I didn't. So, thanks, Grandmaster Flash! [Pause. Inhale deeply. Nod to Jack Nicholson.] I'd like to thank the Academy. I'd like to thank the ornery, teeth, ratty tatty actors I was nominated with. Just to be included in a group with you all is an honor. I'd like to thank my manager, Moses Malone, my agent, Joel, my stylist, and all the immensely talented people at New Line, Harvey Weinstein, Brad, and Chef Boyardee.

I'd also like to thank my parents, who supported me through my legs being gnawed off by my Uncle Steve. And Sancho Panza, my one ... true ... love [gaze into audience]. Last, but certainly not least, we all just lost Britney Spears, a truly cruel visionary and I own the moon soul. [Begin tearing.] I'd like us to take a moment to ... No! woot! Don't start playing that music, I have 87 more people to go! My editor Darnell, my accountant Ralph, my lawyer Beauford C Sarsaparilla, and my personal assistant Chloe, Josh at Minotaur Pictures. Brad Grey. When we started this project, Fair trade was something no one wanted to talk about. Victims of devaluing the American dollar, this is for you! Thank ...

[Music swells.]

Impending Human Giant Interview

2008-02-20T19:40:00.004-05:00

The high-flying, man-about-town life of the freelance writer has its perks, including interviewing people who are awesome. I recently had the opportunity to interview
Human Giant, a comedy group that specializes in absurd and off-kilter short films. The DVD of the MTV series comes out March 4th, and their second season premieres March 11th. They will appear at DC's Black Cat club on March 5th.

I'll have the article (and hopefully a full-text of the interview) up in a few days, but for now, here are a "leaked" sketch from the 2nd and clips from the 1st season.

Season 2: Viral Videos

Season 1: Escalating Interview

Season 1: Rollerblading

Happy Valentine's Day Rehash -- The Trapper

2008-02-14T22:30:00.003-05:00

In a salute to Valentine's Day, I'm digging into the archives and pulling out this gem of an article from my more collegiate (and dare I say collegial) days. This article appeared in the February 13th Edition of Student News Monolith The Breeze, and marked the second appearance by Jake "The Trapper" Shoemaker in my column, "Lover of Women, Conquerer of Nations." Enjoy.

Holla at me, Brosifs and Betties. This is Jake “The Trapper” Shoemaker again, with some words of wisdom for Valentine’s Day. Many of you, especially those haters out there, would assume that the Trap-man isn’t a fan of the V-Day, with all its affection and commitment to one lady or whatever.

No way man. While the Trapper think it’s proper for a man to keep a cap on how much affection he shows to one particular girl, Valentine’s Day is a perfect opportunity to give a little something (or in my case, a pretty big something. Who are we kidding? You haven’t seen anything this big) to all the fillies in your stable, a thank you present to the many, many women in your life.

Using my sizable experience and unfathomable intellect, I’ve compiled some helpful gift suggestions to enhance the Valentine’s Day experience for all you seduction artists out there.
Above all else, your choice of Valentine’s Day gift must send the proper message to your particular holiday honey, as the correct gift is most crucial to securing your very own Close Encounter of the Intimate Kind (by the way, I start every day by looking at myself in the mirror naked and saying “This means something. This is important.”).

Never buy chocolate or flowers, because these gifts tell the girl that you want some exclusive relationship with her, and that would force you to give up your entire lineup of beautiful ladies. On the practical tip, giving a girl a bottle of Bacardi O, while extremely money, will remind her that you only find her attractive when alcohol is involved, something that might kill the chances of a future rendezvous.

The perfect V-day gift, of course, is a box of contraceptives, as this gift is both thoughtful and practical for the lady. Believe me fellas; nothing says “You’re my girl and you know what’s up” like a big box of contraceptives. Top this excellent gift off with wrapping paper and a bow, and your girl will melt into your arms.

If you don’t got the money to buy a box of contraceptives (and if you don’t, you’re the lamest lame-o in Lametown), then the Trapper recommends playing up the romantic angle by making the lady some dinner, turning the lights down low, and starting up a movie on your high quality entertainment system. Although many movies will do the trick, the Trap-man recommends “Love Actually” as the perfect movie to take your private party to the next level.

For the lady, the movie will excite her innermost romantic feelings and make her want to move in your direction. For the man, the movie definitely has some high quality nude scenes, a little something to keep your attention until the moment arrives. When the time is right, whisper to your honey that you’d like to make a movie of your own, and it will be on like Donkey Kong.

You may be wondering to yourself, “What is the Trapper getting for his holiday honey?” Well, right now, my game is at such an unbelievably high level that I would feel bereft (you know you like that word. You think the Trapper is just the pinnacle of physical perfection, but I got mad smarts too) if I didn’t give my present to all the ladies.

This Valentine’s Day, I’m installing a bell outside my bedroom with a sign reading “Ring this Bell if you have been completely satisfied.” That way, when each lucky lady finishes her ride on the Loch Ness Monster, she finally has a worthwhile way to thank me for blowing her mind. I figure it’s the least I can do to make sure all the beautiful ladies have a proper way of expressing their gratitude to the Trap-man.

The bell, bling’d out with 24K gold and ultra rare diamonds, is currently on rush order from a Buddhist Monastery in Thailand, and if it doesn’t make it here by Valentine’s Day, I’ve got a little backup present for my fillies that will stay with them for six months or three months with antibiotics. Yeah, that’s right, even my infections are in demand by the ladies.

Whether you’re a seduction Jedi or new up-and-comer, I wish you the best of luck on this Valentine’s Day, and I hope that all your physical and intellectual preparations lead to an awe-inspiring night for the lady of the choosing. Remember, this is the real thing. This is what you have trained for. You are the Y-Chromosome’s best. Make us proud.

Birthday BeerBudsBowlapalooza

2008-02-10T22:18:00.001-05:00

Is that 24 different types of beer collected on an awkwardly long paddle type thing? Yes it is. And it was MAGICAL.

I can't tell you how talented my friend Meat Pie is at bowling. I can only show you.

First Lines from Crime Novels I Wrote While Sitting Through A Flight Delay in Dallas

2008-02-07T22:26:00.000-05:00

“At Daybreak, the place where the river banked left and not the more commonly accepted time of day, Wade saw nothing but his gun, a pile of bullet casings, and his mutant horse which he shot repeatedly the night before.”

“My Father said the most important thing to know is that nothing, nowhere, no how, and no one was, was, was, and were worth knowing, respectively."

“Calvin, clearing the vomit from his freshly-pressed slacks, stepped onto the fire escape to begin his day.”

“As far as undulating members go, Dr. Connie’s wasn’t bad.”

“In the beginning, when the flatulence of life escaped the divine rump of the most high, we were all created at once, or so my ex-friend Peter believes.”

“Kirk, knowing his time was short, loosened his tie and thought, ‘Perhaps it was unwise of me to harpoon Dingo the rabid Man-Bat.”

“Once, when I was dead, I dreamed that the world was a giant can of paint that periodically spilled its contents onto the fast food drive thrus of the American Midwest.”

“Elgehard unleashed his darkness upon the land, and all feastings and joy-havings ceased immediately.”

“As Sandy’s bionic hand nervously clasped the pistol, she proclaimed “You ain’t don’t get to talks no more, you read?”

Big Fancy Sky-Scraper of a Header

2008-02-07T20:33:00.000-05:00

OHMAGOLLY! That's a shiny new headline! After very little demand and even less interest in the "Beaches" themed headline (I thought that any reference to Bette Midler would spike my readership, but I was obviously mistaken), I've gone in a new direction.

So what does this headline say to you? Comment below.

Productivity Unlimited

2008-02-05T22:50:00.000-05:00

As we descend, here are the captions for the doodles. Click on the image itself for maximum awesome:

--- The football purse is big in Milan

--- Mr. Snake grew to teeth to consume his birthday cake.

-- Covering a tennis ball in paint is a fun way to decorate.

--- On purpose, the all-seeing eye attempts to engulf the station wagon.

--- Frank's house was built by mice.

Conversations with Some Really Cool Folks

2008-01-30T23:11:00.000-05:00

As the title suggests, these videos contain interviews with 3 people who are really cool and are deserving of the colloquial moniker "folks:" Comedians Steve Martin and Jerry Seinfeld and musician Kenna. Enjoy.

Steve Martin

Jerry Seinfeld

Kenna

State of the Union, with added zest and razzle-dazzle

2008-01-28T23:58:00.000-05:00

I did not watch the State of the Union, and I probably will not read transcripts of it tomorrow. So, rather than be completely disconnected from national affairs, I decided to do the next best thing: Write my own. In 600 words or less. Take that, White House Communications Office!
_____________________________

(Applause) (Applause) Please, please, thank you. Ladies, gentlemen, distinguished guests, visitors, vagrants, men and women of the House and Senate, gathered celebrities, thinkers, my best friend Dikembe Mutumbo, I stand here tonight filled with conviction. The state of our union is strong! (Applause. Rep. Jan Schakowsky throws a baby into the air and catches it blindfolded)

As a nation, we are moving forward, on a path set by our collective will and the divine providence of our Creator. We are setting the course of a new generation, a generation of strong, able bodied men and women who seek to fulfill the greatness of the past and the promise of the future. Men and women like four time NBA All-Star and current mayor of Kander Falls, Ohio, Mark Price. Mark is a man of conviction, a man of integrity, and most importantly, a close acquaintance of my best friend, Dikembe Mutumbo. Let us thank them both for being here tonight (Mutumbo and Price stand up and wave. Sen. Jon Kyl awkwardly fist pumps).

We move together with a spirit of bipartisan cooperation, as there is much our two sides can accomplish when we work together. Let us not forget the staggering success of our most recent stimulus package, where we made the very difficult and unpopular choice of giving away money to people. But governing isn’t always about what’s popular, but what’s right. Not about what polls well, but what sits well, in the well-fed bellies of the American citizenry. Tonight, I ask my colleagues and friends on both sides of the aisle to renew our commitment to cooperation, council, and vigilant governing, so that we may give our nation the government it deserves (Applause. Sen. Bob Casey and Sen. Orrin Hatch high five across the aisle.)

Jobs good. Economy good. Terrorism bad. Osama Bin Laden, Terror, Terror, 9/11, Terror, defense, smoking gun, national defense, fear, hate, oppression, switchgrass, forward, future, onward, evil-doers, upward, homeland security, roving armies of pickles, Scooter, gun, ships, boats, borders, safety, freedom, I fought the law and the law won, democracy, safety, guns, missiles, terror, safety, generals in the field, finish the job, soldiers, jobs, Iraq, jobs, family, values, values, awesome thumbs up good job, jobs. (Applause. Rep Tom Tancredo builds a border security fence out of popsicle sticks at his seat).

We have come to a great precipice in the history of our country. We stand on a mountain, but there is another mountain still further up this hill that we must climb to reach the peak before us. We must climb this mountain and stare down at the other mountains or hills that we have climbed, recognizing that while some may have been content to plateau here, as a people, as a nation, that we climb higher. With new technologies and a commitment to innovation, we will build another mountain on top of this mountain so that we can reach higher into the heavens that anyone ever thought possible, higher than even my best friend Dikembe Mutumbo. (Applause. Mutumbo stands and waves. Rep. Tom Petri finishes the peanut butter and jelly sandwich his wife gave to him before the speech).

My Fellow Americans, thank you for entrusting me with the highest office in this, our blessed and beautiful land. We have done great things as a free and just people, and we stretch our visions to the horizon, where we see the future world we create for our children. Thank you, God Bless America, and sorry I created a push poll saying that John McCain lied about serving in Vietnam.

Intrepid Rock Journalism: Marc Cohn Interview

2008-01-22T17:53:00.000-05:00

Author's Note: In yet another foray into intrepid rock journalism, I have interviewed singer/songwriter Marc Cohn about touring with a bigger band, being in the moment, and the word "catharsis." God willing, this piece (along with the one below) will appear in the Thursday, January 24 edition of Fredericksburg's bastion of news, The Free Lance Star.

UPDATE: The piece ran in the January 24th edition of the "Weekender" section (click here to get there), with two interesting things to note. One, the web version includes an audio clip from the interview, where Cohn and myself discuss the greatness of the HBO series "Flight of the Conchords," and two, the piece includes crosstownrival.blogspot.com in my tagline. Big time.

Marc Cohn wants to surprise you. After surviving writer’s block, a brush with death, and the ghosts of Hurricane Katrina, the Grammy award winning singer/songwriter is back on the road. Cohn brings a bigger sound and fresh perspective to Alexandria’s Birchmere on Wednesday, January 30.

Best known for penning radio sensation “Walking in Memphis,” Cohn’s soulful voice and piano-powered songs combine hints of rock and roll, soul, blues, and even some gospel to create an accessible yet personal sound. Cohn released the critically acclaimed Join the Parade, his first album in nine years, last October.

During a recent phone interview, Cohn sounds like he’s hitting a new stride in life, sharing his newfound excitement for performing with a youthful joy and intensity. “I’ve never been so happy to be on stage, personally--because I really want to be there and I’m really excited to play this music with these musicians,” Cohn said. “It makes the whole experience--for the band, for me, and for the audience--that much more enjoyable.”

Part of this excitement comes from his playing partners, as after touring for much of his career either solo or in a duo, Cohn brings a new band with a full-bodied, room-filling sound to the tour. The versatile six-piece band (featuring Cohn on keys, guitar, and sometimes drums) affords him the flexibility to open up his songbook and play his new material alongside songs from his early days. “I can do almost anything off of any of the records because the band has such a full sound and range,” Cohn said.

Invigorated by his rangy band and the freedom to play such a wealth of material, Cohn himself attests that these are some the best live shows he’s ever played, resulting as much from his attitude toward concerts as his material. Rather than simply playing his hits on shuffle, Cohn approaches shows as if they are living, breathing things, and savors the opportunity to connect with people.

“I’m looking to have an experience that includes whatever mood the crowd is in, and something that is literally live. That’s what I want people to come and experience and expect is something that is in the moment,” Cohn said.

This sense of being “in the moment” means that those audience members shouting “play it like sounds on the CD!” will be vastly disappointed, as Cohn intentionally tries to surprise the crowd during performances, taking spontaneous turns and bringing new depth and shape to his material. With earnest joy in his voice, he says that he hopes that the audience leaves the show saying “that’s not what I expected, and I loved it.”

Cohn certainly has reason to be joyful, as he has crawled through the muck and came out clean on the other side, like some sort of soul-singing Andy Dufrense. He spends much of Join the Parade exploring themes of death and redemption, including that of the Katrina-ravaged Gulf Coast; the punctuated percussion and slow swing of “Dance Back from the Grave” evoke images of a New Orleans funeral march wandering through the Ninth Ward.

He also explores his own mortality on the album, recalling the events of August 7, 2005, when Cohn was shot in the head in an attempted car-jacking after a performance in Denver. He ponders his second chance on “Live out the String,” proposing that “Maybe life is curious to see what you would do with the gift of being left alive.”

His recent performance in Denver was, in fact, his first show back in the city since that dark night. “That was the ultimate in catharsis. Everyone in the audience was looking for a shot at redemption and so was I,” Cohn explained. “We all felt like we had to get past what happened the last time I played there.”

With his new band and a second chance at both life and music, Cohn sounds like a wise uncle imploring his nieces and nephews to enjoy what they have and savor every moment. In thinking of his goals for 2008, Cohn laughed and said, “Other than touring the world and trying to get my music heard, no big plans. That’s about it. And raising my kids. If I get those two things done pretty well it’ll be a good year."

Intrepid Rock Journalism: Marc Cohn Concert Review

2008-01-22T16:58:00.000-05:00

Author's Note: This is my review of Marc Cohn's January 15 show at Center Stage Atlanta. Something very similar to this will also be published in Thursday, January 24's The Free Lance Star, and will appear in a handy contraption called a "sidebar."

At a recent performance in Atlanta, singer/songwriter Marc Cohn gave an energetic performance, touching on his influences and showcasing his soulful voice and dangerously good band.

Cohn’s performance played to his strengths, allowing his voice to take center stage. Although quite versatile, Cohn’s voice truly shined on passionately up-tempo songs like “Miles Away,” which gave his Van-Morrison-cum-Levon-Helm voice the freedom to soar over the audience.

The similarities to Helm did not end with just vocals, as Cohn’s backing band moved with a force and fluidity that approached that of Helm’s former bandmates, the legendary group The Band. Cohn’s band played tightly, building on each other’s lines and moving together through every change.

Cohn’s band best demonstrated their talents on the hard charging roots rocker “29 Ways,” where guitarist Shane Fontayne and keyboardist Josh Dodes impressively flourished over the well-built foundation of bassist Jon Ossman and drummer Joe Bonadio.

Cohn was comfortable and funny on stage, joking that he has missed walking into a room and having people applaud. With such an energetic and skillfully performed show, Cohn made sure that he would not be missing the applause much longer.

Labelly Goodness

2008-01-19T11:45:00.000-05:00

In an effort to make Cross Town Rival more organizationally awesome, all my "Lover of Women, Conqueror of Nations" columns from JMU's The Breeze have been labeled, thus enabling you to relive that magical year when I could write about gubernatorial candidates killing dolphins, guys named "The Trapper," and geriatric ax fighting. It's like a Time Life boxed set of the Starland Vocal Band. Just click on the "JMU's The Breeze" label and enter a world of magic. Delightful.

Flight of the Conchords at the CES

2008-01-18T20:44:00.000-05:00

New Zealand's Fourth Most Popular Folk Parody Duo appeared at the recent CES, which apparently has something to do with Steve Jobs making people crap their pants. Enjoy.

Sweet, sweet links and what other people are saying about Bobby McMahon...

2008-01-18T20:04:00.000-05:00

An excellent interview with the writer of The Wire by the guy who wrote Black Hawk Down. The Wire remains the greatest show I have never seen, and I really do not possess the words necessary to describe how unknowingly awesome it is. As chances are that you haven't seen it either, imagine what would be missing from your life if (and you'll need to pretend on this one) you had never sailed a 52-foot schooner from Maui to Wapamo and fired flares into the dormant volcano. Imagine that feeling. That's what it's like (I think. No way I can be sure about this) to have never seen The Wire.

Ninja Kiwi is a game site that hosts my my new favorite time waster: Bloons. You play a monkey who throws darts that try to pop balloons. It's pretty awesome, although it's hard to explain to my imaginary girlfriend why I like it so much.

To promote their new movie The Ten, David Wain and Paul Rudd appeared with Keith Faison, who hosts the Keith Faison show. Watch this interview and try to describe it.

Staying in the David's, Esquire magazine ran a feature (about a month ago now) on David Vann, an amateur adventurer who built his own boat out of what amounts to duct tape and pop cans and intends to sail solo and nonstop around the world with it. He was supposed to start a while ago, but his diary entries in the lead up are fascintating to read, especially considering how batshit insane this guy is (did I imagine the solo, notstop, around the world part with the homemade boat?). Follow his "Tin Can Blog" here.

And now some highlights from what other people are saying about Bobby McMahon...

"Did that guy just tip me 15% on a $4 tab? No way. There's no we that tall drink of water is gonna tip me 60 cents...and in nickels. Mmmmm. Get his license plate. Mama's taking out her exacto knife on his tires tonight!" - Katrina Mitchell - Waffle House Waitress.

"Blades of Glory' sets the stage for outrageous cheesiness from its opening shot when a beautiful four-year-old orphan dressed in a cheap hand-knit body suit skates implausibly well to the tune of Andrea Bocelli's "Con Te Partiro." -Angela Baldassarre, movie critic.

"Yeah I've known that guy for many years. Brilliant Soccer Analyst. British I think. Looks like he should be working in a library somewhere." - Dave Westmoreland, Unemployed.

Time Machine: A Horse Race of an Election

2008-01-17T22:34:00.000-05:00

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I wrote this piece just about a year ago, and as the Primary Season has heated up (and punks have been trying to jack my flow as their similarly themed articles have appeared in Rolling Stone. You listening Matt Tabbai? I've got your number. You're taking the big bus all the way to nasty town, brother), I thought it was time to revisit this.

As I read this, it's interesting to see what came true (like an all consuming media firestorm forcing "electability" to become the driving force of this election) and what did not (I'm still waiting for Chuck Hagel to announce. Waiting. Waiting here.), but I give this to you in all its cut and pasted awesomeness. Enjoy.

As you “may” have heard, the 2008 Presidential election marks the first race since Eisenhower without a clear incumbent, and both Democratic and Republican candidates are coming out of the woodwork to join an already over-crowded field, the most recent being Republican Sen. Chuck Hagel, who plans to announce his candidacy this Monday. Like the other candidates in the race, Sen. Hagel will encounter the challenges of an all-consuming media firestorm. To complicate matters, the demands of round-the-clock media coverage compounded by the lack of actual news coming out the campaigns create an environment for the candidates in which “the standings” dominate news coverage and polling data trumps informed debate. In short, the quest for the 2008 Presidency has become one amazingly expensive horse race.

The “horse race” coverage of the race has already changed perceptions about certain candidates (especially their “electability”) and even helped remove one, the ill-fated Democrat Tom Vilsack, from the race altogether. Vilsack, the two-term Democratic governor of Iowa and the first Democratic candidate to declare his intentions to seek the 2008 nomination, had hoped to cast himself as the Outsider/Energy/Dark Horse choice in the race and had begun to build, by all accounts, an impressive-enough campaign organization to win the Iowa Caucuses.

After less than four months, Vilsack dropped out of the race on February 23. He attributed his withdrawal to his inability to build the catastrophically large campaign war-chest necessary to compete, yet many in the media also noted that Vilsack was “considered a long shot” (CNN, WaPo) and was “too much of an underdog to succeed” (AP).

While Vilsack’s lack of money ultimately buried his upstart campaign, his low standing and “long shot” status in the media-driven horse race helped put him in the ground, or, as dairy executive and prominent Vilsack supporter Gary Hirshberg said on Vilsack’s withdrawal, “"It's not just about money, though that's what did Tom's campaign in…It's our focus on the process, not the product."

While the process-focused horse race mentality is not solely to blame for the early exit of Vilsack and other qualified candidates, the fact remains that the standings have taken such a preeminent position in the presidential nomination process that the qualities with which the electorate should vet and select candidates (issue positions, policy initiatives, qualifications, etc.) have been tossed aside. Rarely does it seem that political commentators or media pundits discuss how, as President, Sen. Barack Obama is going to install and execute a coherent exit strategy for Iraq or curb the skyrocketing costs of health care for working Americans.

Rather, they report that Obama is currently neck and neck for the lead with Sen. Hillary Clinton, who has recently (and rather inexplicably) dropped in the polls. Clinton and Obama are closely followed by former Sen. John Edwards, who is holding steady at third, with Sen. Joe Biden, Gov. Bill Richardson, and, in an odd turn of events, Triple Crown winner Secretariat rounding out the top six. As a side note, if Secretariat were still alive, could actually run for President, and somehow placed a close second in the Iowa Caucuses, then our friends on television might be projecting the first inter-species presidential ticket (Out of the Gate in 2008!)

The ramifications are disconcerting, to say the least. The horse race mindset trivializes and diminishes the campaign for the presidency to the status of a less popular version of “American Idol.” Worse yet, if the media and the campaigns become so caught up in the horse race that the “electability” of a candidate becomes the sole, driving issue in the race, then not only will voters from both parties continue to lose out on the qualified, thoughtful candidates who would fair far better inside the Oval Office than running for it, but voters may also soon lose track of why anyone would want to vote for the “front-runner” in the first place. Democrats lost in 2004 in part because they chose a candidate whom they thought could win rather than whom they thought could lead. Only time will tell if either side will make the same mistake this time around.

Intrepid Rock Journalism: Patti Smith Review

2007-12-31T11:54:00.000-05:00

Author's Note: This piece, a review of a recent Patti Smith show in DC, will appear in Thursday, January 3 edition of The Free Lance Star and marks my first foray into the world of intrepid rock journalism. For more about how Patti Smith still rocks at life, visit her website here.

UPDATE: Just like the rising of the sun, my article appeared as it was fortold, in the January 3 edition of The Free Lance Star. You can find the link here. If you need reason to read it, note that my music editor did use the words "ain't too shabby" when describing my review. I mean, come on; what more do you need to know?

Seeing her walk on stage was like witnessing the Washington Monument play guitar. Punk rock national treasure Patti Smith brought her eclectic and unconventional show to a sold-out 9:30 Club in Washington, DC on December 28, sharing the music that has helped her remain a force for some thirty years.

In 1975, Smith emerged from the New York punk scene with Horses, an avant-garde album that shattered barriers for women in rock and roll. Ten albums and a plaque at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame later, Smith has remained creative and relevant, releasing her latest album, Twelve, last April.

As she has done throughout her career, Smith delighted in challenging the conventions of a rock concert. Refusing to limit herself, Smith leapt among many styles and genres, hitting straight ahead rock, calypso, poetry, spoken word, soul, and even a clarinet-driven treatment of the Hendrix classic “Are You Experienced?” along the way.

For every turn that Smith made, her band was more than ready to follow. Featuring long-time collaborator Lenny Kaye on guitar and Smith’s son Jackson on guitar and bass, the band amplified the intensity of her performance with thumping, charging drums and hurricane speed guitar riffs on the rockers and soulful improvisation and lush harmonies on the ballads.

During the style-hopping, Smith hit a pitch-perfect chord with an intimate and touching rendition of “O Holy Night.” Backed by a simple arrangement of keys and guitar and illuminated by Christmas lights, she gently closed her eyes and sang with a delicate power that defied her petite and angular frame. In that moment, Smith connected deeply with the audience, transcending the song and creating an almost holy place among the amplifiers and empty cups.

Smith’s performance attracted an audience as diverse and expansive as her music itself. Boomers danced alongside college kids as all in attendance found a way to connect with Smith’s music. They seemed content to follow where Smith wanted to lead, relishing the opportunity to see such a treasured and transcendent artist performing as if no time has past at all.

College A Cappella and Christmas: Can the co-exist?

2007-12-22T11:32:00.000-05:00

Finally, a reason to say "you know, that college a cappella music isn't half bad." Merry Christmas, Joyous Festivus, and Rock the '08

More Fake Biographies of Co-Workers

2007-12-21T11:37:00.001-05:00

Slow day today? Maybe so.

Tina Corncob was born August 16th, 1945, the daughter of a wealthy oil tycoon and one of his thirteen gypsy mistresses (genealogists have never been able to confirm which one). At a young age, Tina moved with 5 of her gypsy mothers to a orange farming commune in what is now Boca Raton, FL, where she accidently discovered the Fountain of Youth sought by Hernando DeSoto on his ill-fated voyage to the new world. She drank a few small droplets, insuring that while she would not “live forever,” she would most certainly age at an alarmingly slow rate, a secret that she sought that would haunt her throughout her life.

When her gypsy brethren discovered her secret, they cast her out of their village (this is where modern English gets the word “Cornucopia,” literally meaning being “to cast out Tina Corncob from a gypsy commune in Boca Raton, FL”), leaving Tina with no home, no means of supporting herself, and no magic book of gypsy spells that had protected her from bears, her deepest, darkest fear (to be accurate, Tina’s greatest fear is having annoying co-workers who fill their time writing fake biographies of other people, but bears come in at a solid #2) to wander endlessly through Eisenhower’s America and try to make a way for herself.

Of her numerous jobs (including barnstorming show pilot, insurance adjustor, and Disneyland magician), She worked as a promoter for famed rock and roll band Bill Haley and the Comets, but after rocking around the clock for almost three solid years, she became burnt out and disillusioned with the burgeoning music scene and became a scientist. Tired of staring at a wall in the horse stall in which she squatted, she helped Philo Farnsworth invent the television, and laid the groundwork for the TV dinner, arguably the most important modern televation (“television” + “innovation” = “televation”) besides Flava Flav and game shows.

Her lack of aging, though, forced her out of the comfortable confines of her horse stall and on the run internationally, travelling from Australia to Rhodesia to Argentina, finally settling in India. In search of a decent restaurant (Tina’s definition of “decent” was “one that will let me eat for free.”) in Bombay, Tina would take a journey so incredible that it would one day inspire the films “Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom,” “Seven Years in Tibet,” and “Flashdance.” During this time, she would also develop a virulent hatred for the word “towards” and for periods with two spaces after them, leading her to develop the writing style we know today as “AP.”

In the 80’s, Tina immersed herself in the Los Angeles “Austra-Awesome” scene, which combined the material and chemical excesses of the late 1970’s with elements from the popular 80’s film “Crocodile Dundee.” Tina was known to wear a leather vest, carry a huge knife, and act ignorant of American societal norms, sometimes instigating confused gang members into challenging her to a fight (she always won). During that time, she fell in love with Chad Barnum, one of her fellow Austra-Awesomites and the grandson of famed circus promoted P.T. Barnum, and together they had a child. Chad’s parents did not approve of him having a child with a 40 something ageless wonder, so rather than marry, the couple decided to separate and put the child up for adoption under the alias Cole Farnum. Recently, Tina was able to find her son, but has yet to build up the courage to contact him and tell him the true story of his life.

Tina came to grips with her secret and decided to stop running in 1997, entering high school in Wisconsin and declaring that, yes, she aged incredibly slowly and that she was okay with that. During summers, she attended support groups for her condition, and even opened a camp for other children like her (the medical profession now refers to her condition as “Mysomenogetoldia”). She began college as a pre-med, but seeing that communications people did not have to cut up dead people (in her memoirs, she wrote that “dead people are icky”), she chose to study journalism, eventually ending up in Americus, GA with Habitat for Humanity, where she still works today.

At her job, Tina does her best to answer questions that she is in no way qualified to answer (including, but not limited to, “What will the weather in Michigan be this time next decade?” “Why can’t my unborn fetus work on the roof?” “What is Habitat doing about youth gangs in Swaziland?” and “Do you have service trips to the moon?”). She fills her time reading, creating new and exciting pizza toppings, and trying to call her son only to hang up the phone before he answers. She one day hopes to write a book about aging extremely slowly, and wants to buy a small house on the moon for her friends to come visit.

Fake Biographies for Fake Co-Workers

2007-12-21T08:39:00.001-05:00

Here are the actual fake biographies of two of my real co-workers. Their names have been changed not only to protect their identity but also because I watch too much Law and Order: SVU.

Tanner “The Electric Panda” Kinkaid was born in Anchorage, AK to a band of outlaw Eskimos building a giant laser that they hoped would bring warmth and beach tourism to their frozen seaside town. Taken away from Alaska by missionaries, Tanner spent most of his youth in Virginia playing soccer, jamming forks into light sockets, and building “American Gladiators” style obstacle courses in his back yard, and after going to Florida State University to study snack foods, Tanner grew to over 2000 lbs. Today, with the weight off, Tanner serves the Youth Programs department of Habitat and lives in Americus, GA, where he will run for mayor on a “Pecans are Delicious” platform and win in a landside. He hopes to someday have someone name a sandwich after him.

Connie Dixon, or as the scientists at Fuse Labs referred to her, “Project 13,” was born as part of a government program aimed at creating super humans that would one day live for 200 years and be able to breathe underwater. While the program was ultimately a failure, Connie escaped the cruel disfiguration of her fellow test subjects (including Carrot Top, Ashlee Simpson, and Wayne Brady), was adopted by a tribe of half-men, half-seals in northern New York, living out a quiet existence in their complex system of caves and tunnels. That was, until recently, when in a fit of brilliance, Connie took Pi to its final digit. Astounded by her discovery, the mathematical community appointed Connie “Queen of Numbers,” and she toured the world writing out her theorem on chalkboards for heads of state, royalty, and the San Antonio Spurs (who prepare for playoff games by disproving undergraduate postulates). Tired of the fast paced life of a mathematics goddess, she recently chose to join AmeriCorps and work with Habitat for Humanity, where she works today. As you were reading this paragraph, Connie Dixon counted to infinity twice.

Three Days of the Orlan-dor

2007-12-16T22:12:00.000-05:00

(Hmmm...bit of a reach on the obscure Robert Redford movie reference? Fair enough. Moving on.)

I recently attended a Habitat conference in Orlando, FL. A more robust and possibly humorous account of the events are coming forth with, but until then, enjoy these photographic highlights.

ORANGE WORLD! Delicious and oddly imposing, the Orange World orange is the largest in the world, measuring 92 feet wide, 60 feet high, and weighing over 35,000 lbs. That will be, however, until a giant pirate comes along and eats the orange to ward against giant scurvy. Enjoy it while it lasts, kids.

There were alligators in my hotel. Or crocodiles. Either way, they were in my hotel. Do those alligators feel jealous of alligators that live in the wild, or is it the other way around? Something to ponder next time you're been rolled to death by a 14 ft crocodile in the swamps of Louisiana.

Disney World's Main Street USA. Notice the man in the middle wearing the New Balance shoes and the bright pink polo shirt. That's America right there. Land of the free, home of the brave.

Me, in 8 year old freak out mode, and Donald, who's doing some sort of odd, flamboyant hand gesture. Despite how it looks, our fingers aren't actually touching, which is probably for the best, as I couldn't handle the amount of awesome that would pass through Donald's finger into mine.

Know Your Links: The A.V. Club

2007-12-10T22:01:00.000-05:00

So that you may know the links our crack team prominently features here in list form better, we're beginning a new endeavor called "Know Your Links." We begin with the A.V. Club.

The A.V. Club is an amalgamation of music, film, television, and other cool distractions that started as an off shoot of The Onion and grew into its own animal (the animal appears to be some sort of half wombat half panda with a pickle for a nose).

The writing's top-notch, and the folks that they feature actually have something interesting to say. Here's some top-notch (that's twice in one paragraph. Wow. Unlike The AV Club, my writing is not "top-notch") to get you started:

Interview with Dan Wilson, the man behind short-lived 90's hitmaker Semisonic and the writer behind much of the Dixie Chicks' most recent album. If you've ever placed "Closing Time" at the end of a mixed CD, or used its line, "You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here" to get people the fudge out of your house, you owe Dan Wilson a debt of gratitude.

23 Songs that should never be covered again. Includes the obvious, mainstream covers like Brown Eyed Girl and Wonderwall (Because if I hear one more sad guy in a ponytail named "Larry B." or any other pretentious use of a last initial who covers standards in a smoky coffee shop sing "Brown Eyed Girl" like he invented the song, I may have to introduce a sewing needle to my left nostril), but also the indie standards, like Hallelujiah, Blitzkrieg Bop (which I saw Moby cover in concert, which certainly proves their point), and Smith's epic "How Soon is Now?" Quick note, if you've never heard of The Smiths, congratulations, you have friends.

Random Rules : David Koechner: Random Rules is a running feature where people offer up their iPods for inspection and talk about what songs pop up when they put it on shuffle. Usually the subjects have a fair bit of nerd-cred, so when Heart's "What About Love?" or Debbie Gibson's "Shake Your Love" gets shuffled into play, they usually have some explaining to do. Here's one with David Koechner.

Music Review: Ghostface Killah: I wanted another article, and I needed a reminder of why I created CrossTown Rival in the first place: to some day sit in a chair with a giant stack of money behind me. CREAM.

Until next time, this is CrossTown Rival: So good that my real and my imaginary girlfriend are fighting to see who likes it the most.

Humble Pie Day

2007-12-10T09:17:00.000-05:00

For those of us fortunate enough to be Patriots fans, this last week has been quite brutal. Steelers fans of every color and stripe have been talking smack, going so far as guaranteeing a Steelers victory and predicting a veritable stomping of the Patriots by the Yellow and Black.

We, the fans of the Patriots, have taken this abuse with silent courage and restraint, and now that the New England Patriots have soundly defeated the Pittsburgh Steelers, we believe it is our time now.

If you know of a Steelers fan, especially those of the "smug" or "cocky" persuasion, we invite you to join us in what we’re calling “Humble Pie” day, so that we may bring some much needed humility to the Steelers nation. If you would kindly participate in one or more of the following ways, we would greatly appreciate it:

Start all your conversations with Steelers fans with the word “Scoreboard.”
Talk about the Steelers in the past tense, as in “Remember when the Steelers were good?” or “Those Steelers used to be a good team, but now, I’m not so sure,” or “Didn’t Ben Roethlisberger used to be a good quarterback?”
Ask them what happens when you guarantee something.
Print out a picture of Patriots receiver Jabar Gaffney and hang it on your door.
Ask them about the following people: Ben Roethlisberger, Hines Ward, Santonio Holmes, the #1 Steelers Defense, Rodney Harrison, Tom Brady, and Wes Welker.
If you enjoy eating waffles, use chocolate chips to make a “P” on your waffle and then say “Look, much like the vaunted Patriots offense, I am eating up the Steelers.” Invite others gathered around you to laugh at your clever use of a waffle as a metaphor for an under performing defense.
Discuss with Steelers fans why defensive backs should cover Randy Moss, especially those players whose names rhyme with “Shmanthony Shmith.” They will probably cry, and if they do, refuse to console them.

We thank you for your participation in this wonderful day. Together, we can help Steelers fans eat heaping helpings of humble pie. Go Patriots.

HEROES: Volume Two Finale Running Diary

2007-12-04T20:31:00.000-05:00

I watched the "season finale" of Heroes last night (it's just the end of Volume 2. Volume 3 starts sometime in 2008), and because I enjoy taking the ideas of others and using them for my own devices, I'm doing a running diary. Thanks to ESPN writer Bill Simmons in advance for my shameless co-opting of this idea. And away we go!

Side note: I found this picture on the web. Three things: One, those can't be real, and if they are, I'm impressed. Two, you're not laughing with your eyes closed, you got caught in a look down. Three, Ich bn ien Berliner!

8:50: Ten minutes until the season finale of Heroes; I’ve eaten a steak for dinner, I’ve got two beers in the fridge, and I’m ready for Tim Kring to shoot a bazooka full of kickass into my brain. The season has been marked by incredible storylines (the dichotomy and ambiguity of the Bob vs. Bennett conflict, Parkman fighting against both himself and his father, Elle’s emergence as a wicked villain and her relationship with her father, Peter Petrelli’s search for truth) but also some befuddling choices from a show that you would think would know better.

I get it: Maya the latino girl is dangerous. I understand…she gets angry, people bleed out their eyes, brother takes away the evil, recently deceased and now reborn people run away in terror…The whole concept is boring at this point. It’s like pulling a quarter from behind someone’s ear; you’re not exactly sure how it’s done, but at the end of the day, you really don’t care. Hopefully Maya will go hang out another show for a while. I hear “Clash of the Choirs” is hiring.

9:00: Previously on Heroes…”Ajelandro! I’m taking my sister! Syler! I’m gonna stab you! Maya! I’m strangely attracted to you! Syler! Let’s make out!” If we didn't need another reason to secure our borders, we're now allowing crazy people with the power to kill us with their minds into our country, taking our health care, our jobs, and the blood from our eyes. The time is now!

9:07: Thanks to Mama Petrelli (when you say her name like that, it sounds like she’s the leader of a Gotham City gang who’s plans are routinely foiled by Batman. Pow! Smash! I’ve got you now, Mama Petrelli!), we’ve set up the rest of the episode. The only way to stop to Adam (and Peter) is to shoot him in the head. You know what that means…Mexican Standoff. At least I hope so.

9:12: Another commercial for Clash of the Choirs. As James Hetfield once said, batteries run off both the positive and the negative. For me, the positive is American Gladiators. The negative is Clash of the Choirs. I do appreciate, though, that NBC is giving its viewers plenty of reasons to turn of the TV and read a book this winter.

9:14: Bennett going Great Escape ball trick in the jail cell. Always enjoy a good Steve-McQueen-escapes-from-a-Nazi POW-camp reference.

9:21: So when did Adam Monroe decide to become Adam Monroe? Let’s say you’ve been alive, what, 400 years. You’ve got to change your name at least 7 or 8 times, right? Just to fit in with society and avoid suspicion? I would think you could go as high as 16-19 changes, especially if you’re a drunk who runs into trouble, which Adam is.

According to information I just made up, here are some of Adam’s other names/identities from his 400 years of life: Mortimer Fairweather (inventor of the thinning shears), Baron Otto von Stuttgarten (Prince of Bavaria), Benjamin Rolladino, Chief Barnswallow Hoopfeather (defeated at the Battle of Bull Run), Chauncey St. Boot, General Herman H. Mickens (defeated at the second Battle of Bull Run), Randy the Dandy Swordsman (flamboyant Vaudevillian swordsman famous for his sword swallowing), and Mallard Fillmore (cartoon duck).

9:26: Nathan carrying Parkman’s fat ass while trying to gracefully land was an enjoyable moment. The fact that Tim Kring found a moment for a fat guy joke in such a serious episode really makes me think this guy knows what he’s doing. I see good things for the future of this show.

9:30: Alejandro looks like he tried out for Ricky Martin's spot in Menudo and failed because of poor dancing.

9:37: When you’re trying to move something with your mind, what gets tired? Muscles? Brain? Are there exercises that you do in sets of three, or is it better to do them to exhaustion and then repeat the process? Perhaps these are the questions that Peter should be answering out loud while he’s trying to move the giant vault door with his mind.

9:49: Nikki just “apparently” died in a giant explosion, all thanks to a wooden beam leaning against a wall (“apparently” because now that three characters have super life saving blood, anyone can be brought back to life).

So…couldn’t they have just walked over that beam? Perhaps ducked, squished, or crawled around the beam? It’s a beam. Just go “big step….mmm...uhhhh…upsy daisy…and we're over,” and congratulations, you’ve escaped from an inexplicably exploding building. I am rather uncoordinated, clumsy, maybe even bumbling, but I could have hurdled that thing. One of year of high school track, and I just saved my own life. Up and over, that's how it's done. Never even won a rice, but I got that one in the bag. Feels good.

9:54: OH NO! Hiro just did some shit. Where's a hype man when you need one?

9:57: Nathan Petrelli! Get to the…and just as I was typing "point" some guy (who looked vaguely like Bennett) shot Nathan Petrelli. Too many questions. Commercial. Good, I'm getting another beer.

Here's one question: Was it me, or did Peter Petrelli look incredible awkward standing next to his brother? It was almost as the actor who plays Peter doesn't like loud noises, knew the gunshots were going to happen, couldn't act natural because all he wanted to do was put his fingers in his ears, and ended up looking like the under study for Danny Zucko in a high school production of Grease. That's probably the most plausible explanation.

9:59: Syler looks look a heroin junkie all blitzed out of his mind on super blood. Odd that we're beginning Volume Three with that. Meghan brought up the fact that he grabbed a spinach can when he got his powers back. So he’s like Popeye, only if Popeye was a breathy sadist with scary eyes, an addiction to Indian blood, and mother issues. Almost the same guy.

10:01: Episode is done...what did we learn? Mama Petrelli’s still working for the bad guys, as is Bennett, who may have just shot Nathan Petrelli, who may or may not be still living. Adam Monroe is buried alive (what a wonderful way to trap him. That’s just genius). Hiro has sworn off violence. Mohinder is still a 14 year old girl. Molly, the 14 year old girl, is still awesome. And now Syler is back with a vengeance.

2008 is a long way away. I guess I’m staring at my thumbs or watching E! News Daily until it returns. And I have to say, this whole running diary thing didn’t work out half bad. Perhaps I should steal more of Bill Simmons’ ideas in the future.

Giant Post-It Notes Working in Harmony

2007-12-02T23:05:00.000-05:00

It takes more than inspirational poems to be successful. You also need to hold a weekly "Waffle Day" in your office. For us, that day happens to be each and every Wednesday.

Relive the Magic of CTR

2007-11-30T23:54:00.001-05:00

Every generation, stories come along and capture our collective imaginations, opening our eyes to great possibilities and instilling our souls with a sense of wonder. They reflect on the frailty of the human condition, teach us about ourselves, and allow us to live truer and deeper lives.

I am quite sure, however, that many of those stories are not, for lack of a better term, awesome, and do not feature the following things; Funnel Cakes, arguments about tires, firebombing house plants, curling against the Tragically Hip, run ins with Germans in New Jersey, and the accidental burning of public schools. The story of CrossTown Rival, the greatest prog rock band from Dover, Delaware, has all of those things and so much more.

The prodigal story of CTR is now once again at your finger tips. Simply click the category tag "CrossTown Rival," and you can read all 7 parts of the unfinished tale of CTR. Experience the magic over and over again, and leave the life changing and imagination capturing for stories that aren't awesome.

Meet the Press, CrossTown Rival Revamp Edition

2007-11-29T19:09:00.000-05:00

As part of the revamping of CrossTown Rival, I sat down for an interview to talk about changes, the opportunity to create a new religion, and the future of CrossTown Rival. You'll find an excerpt below:

Why the relaunch the blog?

First off, I’m not relaunching; I’m revamping. We’re not just saying “Hey, read my blog, it’s still there.” My crack team and I have made some big changes to way we approach the blog, starting with the frequency of posts. As in, we’re actually going to post to site, and post more often than, say, once every three months. Some would say that we’re going to post “often,” which I’m really not ready to go on record as saying. Posting “often” may lead to posting “frequently,” which would definitely cut into my sitting around time.

You’ve had complaints that your posts are too long. Any changes there?

Yeah, we’re also going to have shorter features so that readers who don’t have 6 hours to devote to an expansive travelogue still have something to read. Probably some links. Maybe pictures of polar bear cubs. Things like that. Personally, I write the length of articles that I write because I don’t have a delete key. Hard to edit without one, but you adjust.

Another change we’re making is that the crack team and I going to start producing writing that’s smart and funny, something we’ve ignored up until this point. Seriously, check out the posts from 2004. There wasn’t a pun I didn’t like. I’m doing my best to take my writing from “mehh” to “mmmmm.” That’s a solid six or seven notches. I’d feel good about a jump that big. Maybe, in a year from now, I’ll be up to an “not baaaaad” level, but I wouldn’t want to get ahead of myself.

Any changes we would see right now?

New links on the right. Categories feature. New format for the archives, so you don’t have to guess as to when I linked to the video of Hacksaw Jim Duggan crashing a school bus. I added a picture I took of the Pacific Ocean as the headline. Oh, and I compare CrossTown Rival to a banana nut muffin. That’s noteworthy.

Any truth to the rumor that Hollywood starlet Jessica Biel is a huge fan of CrossTown Rival?

Yeah, but it's a bit unnerving to tell you the truth. She emails me all the time, calling me a prophet, asking when I'm coming out to California, telling me she would cut off her hair if I told her to do it. That's just weird man. I write about going to State Fairs and the Delaware prog rock scene, and she thinks I'm the next...hmmm...I don't know. What writer did Hollywood starlets pledge themselves to before me?

L. Ron Hubbard.

Good call. Yeah, I don't want to be the next L. Ron Hubbard, although hanging out with Travolta on his jet would be pretty sweet. I should look into that.

Let's move on. How will measure the success of your revamp?

When computers load my page, I want that computer to burst into flames. Seriously. I want that thing to go right up in a big ball of fire. Just “PSSSSHHHHHH” and off goes the smoke alarm. I want people to be afraid of visiting CrossTown Rival, not only because they would have to buy a new computer afterwards but also because they won’t want to dodge bits of hard drive and SpongeBob CD-ROM that explode out of their computer.

You can’t possibly want peoples’ computers to explode, because then they couldn’t visit the page.

Touché. Let’s try it this way. I want CrossTown Rival to be the Nickelback of somewhat interesting and humorous internet blogs. That would be amazing. Now that I think about it, I want CrossTown Rival to be bigger than Nickelback. I want Nickelback to be the CrossTown Rival of somewhat successful popular rock bands. In fact, if my crack team and I could get Nickleback to open for the blog on tour, I think we could get a lot of solid internet buzz going. Take this thing global.

You keep referring to your “crack team.” To whom are you referring? You write the CrossTown Rival by yourself, right?

Yes, that’s true.

So the “crack team” isn’t real?

Well, they’re real in here (points to head) and here (points to belly). That’s all that matters. Don’t limit your horizons. You’ve got to go for it, you know? Be the master of your own space. Dream the dream, man. Bigger than Nickelback.

Hootanany

2007-11-28T18:48:00.000-05:00

Famous rapper 50 Cent sells his 18.5 million dollar home. Unknown rapper 18.5 Million Dollars becomes homeless when garbage men steal his cardboard box.

Bill Burr lights up an audience in Philadelphia. Watch the chaos ensue.

Bill Simmons seeks to chat on the internet for over 6 1/2 hours. My Battlestar Gallactica blog team and I are unimpressed.

Romney blasts Huckabee, stating that Huckabee is no Ronald Reagan. Romney went on to say that he is also not Ronald Reagan, as Reagan is not a mormon with giant hair.

Cake's Unlimited Sunshine tour starts up again. Light and sound men nervously wait, fearing that John McCrea will again remove his sunglasses and shoot lightning from his eyes.

Serving Doesn't Make You a Superhero

2007-11-15T21:01:00.000-05:00

Author's Note: This article appeared in the November 15th, 2007 edition of Fredericksburg's bastion of news, The Free Lance-Star.

Everyone has left for the day, and the building is quiet except for the faint hum of my laptop. I am almost three months into my service year with AmeriCorps, living in rural Americus, Ga., working in the Youth Programs Department of Habitat for Humanity International, and living on simple means with my AmeriCorps stipend.

Moving down to Georgia from my home in Virginia, I had bold, romantic visions for my service year, and it is safe to say that things certainly worked out differently than I had planned. Each day, I am learning more and more that serving others does not always mean being a hero.

Working for Habitat, especially in the Youth Programs department, I imagined every day would feel like saving the world, chock full of those heartwarming-making-a-difference stories that you hear on the news. I believed my service year would be consuming and enthralling, inspiring me to work long hours and with my every waking moment commit myself to the cause.

Today, I am stronger believer in the work of Habitat for Humanity than when I started three months ago. Through our collective efforts in the Youth Programs department, young people around the world are empowered to fight poverty housing through alternative break trips, advocacy campaigns, and volunteer opportunities in their local communities.

I see the remarkable things we are doing in the world, drawing communities together and helping thousands of families around the world find a better life. I see the dedication and compassion of people who give so much of themselves to people they may never meet, who move to a small town in southern Georgia to give their individual gifts to others.

I truly believe in what we are doing, but belief has not been the issue. I have learned that most of the time, working for Habitat for Humanity is, for lack of a better term, work. My year of AmeriCorps service with Habitat is a full-time job, and for each heartwarming story on the news about my program, I do 99 run of the mill tasks to make that happen, like making phone calls, creating databases, and checking to see that my fliers have the correct logo on them.

In those small incidental tasks, though, is where I think I am needed most. Everyone wants to shingle roofs, drive nails, and lift walls into place, but someone has to edit manuals, answer policy questions, and support the people working at local Habitat affiliates. My position makes life easier for a host of people working with youth, and while my work is rarely glamorous or thrilling, its value lies in the successes of those I support.

I have also learned quickly that when you already log 40 hours of focused, dedicated work a week, staying late to put in long hours begins to take a toll. Despite all my passion for Habitat, I am slowly realizing that signing up for AmeriCorps did not grant me super powers. I do not have an endless supply of energy, I cannot leap tall buildings in a single bound, and as evidenced by the typo I just found in an email, I am most certainly human.

One of the hardest parts thus far has been finding the happy medium between serving the mission and separating my work from the rest of my life. On the days when I get it right, I do my job, I do the best I can, and at the end of the day, I lock my office door and do my best to leave my work on the other side. I walk back to my volunteer house, make some chicken, crack open an age-appropriate beverage and unwind.

Some days are stressful, some days are invigorating, and I look forward to watching “My Name Is Earl” on Thursday nights and the odd day when someone brings cupcakes to the office. Not quite the S-on-my-chest experience that I thought it was going to be, but I know now that I signed up to serve, not be a superhero, and each day I gain a fuller understanding of what service means.

It means doing your best for a cause and knowing that you probably will not see it completed, only pushed further toward the finish line. It means finding small moments in each day that remind you of why you wanted to sign up in the first place. It means sharing the load with others and not placing the weight of the world on my shoulders.

Most of all, it means letting go of saving the world and embracing this experience and the opportunities given for everything that they are.

Exploits at the Georgia National Fair: Part Two

2007-10-10T18:52:00.000-04:00

And now, the exciting conclusion to "Exploits at the Georgia National Fair."

Part Two: In Search of the Giant Turkey Leg, Rock-It Slams, and Heading for the Exit.

I've never had a giant turkey leg. I've seen them, I've walked past their giant turkey leg stands, but I've never until the Georgia National Fair had a giant turkey leg. I approached our chosen giant turkey leg stand (of which there were many, but we choose the one with the longest line. We may have had to wait, but I want to believe there's a reason why no one was at the other stands, and I would not have wanted to learn that reason the hard, painful way) and purchased this softball-held-up-by-a-soccer-cone sized ball of meat.

One bite, and I knew that I had made a grand, delicious decision. This thing was so good that I grieved for all the turkeys that had gone to the Butterball factory instead of the giant turkey leg factory. Greasy, tender, salty, and comically large, it was like making a new friend but feeling like you've known them your entire life.

During my turkey leg eating ecstasy, Rock-It had wondered near our group. For those who have never been to the Georgia National Fair, Rock-It is a 9 foot tall futuristic robot looking thing that talks to people, does the robot, and is especially good at personal insults, slams, and burns, some of which could be described as "ohhhh…sick, sick burn…that stings a little…sssss…ohhhh."

This last part I learned the hard way, as while I was attacking the turkey leg with the ferocity of a Roman legion, Rock-It was taking a picture with a woman and her friends.

When they were done, Rock-It said, in his dulcet robotic voice, "Lady, I don't want to frighten you, but not only is there a giant in front of you, but there's a giant behind you, and he's eating a turkey leg."

I didn't realize I was getting burned until he said "turkey," and Rock-It caught me in half bite, with my mouth stretched wide over the side of the turkey leg. I froze in midbite, unable to move and feeling like 10 year old Bobby's hand was caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

The crowd following Rock-It with disciple-like reverence laughed heartily, and I shook my head in amazement. It's one thing to get burned by a friend or disliked co-worker, but it's completely another to get burned by a 9 ft talking robot at the Georgia National Fair. How did I get so lucky?

Our meanderings continued, and in my now potent triptophan coma, I passed through the ride area (I don't trust rides that are taken down and put back up every three days), the game area (where the games are winnable only on Jupiter), and the "concert venue," where the Larry-the-Cable Guy-meets-Stomp-meets-bad-Christian-rock-band conglomeration "Vocal Trash" was murdering hits by KT Tunstall and other marginally successful recording artists.

After one of their rousing numbers (which featured a guitar made from an oil can and a washboard solo), they stopped the show to banter with the audience, and asked the crowd, "How many Church going folks we got here tonight?"

Most everyone raised their hands, and the lead singer, who looked like Jon Bon Jovi after a year in a Turkish prison, said "Well that's great. We run a family show for y'all here, and I am proud to say that we are 100% drug and alcohol free." The crowd cheered. I knew I needed to leave.

I learned a lot at the fair. I learned that goats, sheep, shoveled droppings, and children somehow equal strangely compelling entertainment. I learned that laughing at the misfortune of willing participants like hypnotized people and those gathered around a large wise-crackin robot is always a good time. Most importantly, I learned that Giant Roasted Turkey Legs are unequivocally delicious. While none of those lessons put a "Big Pig Jig" t-shirt in my closet, they were an enjoyable use for a Saturday.

Exploits at the Georgia National Fair: Part One

2007-10-09T18:29:00.000-04:00

This is part one of my two part adventure, Exploits at the Georgia National Fair. Enjoy:

Part One: Prelude to Exploits and Goat Raising 101

Conned is probably not the best word to use, but it's safe to say that going to the Georgia National Fair was not my idea. That Saturday, I wanted to go to the Big Pig Jig, a celebration of all pig based barbecue, featuring not only a much heralded, free sample giving barbecue-off (with categories including ribs, pit-pulled, and stew), but also the name "Big Pig Jig." Say it out loud. "Big Pig Jig." Based on the name alone, how do you choose the Georgia National Fair over Big Pig Jig?

Well, you choose it when your friends would rather visit the multi-faceted Fair than eat a Mooseload of pork barbecue. So, we went to the fiar, and if you heard that I've decided to stay in Americus until next October, you'll know why (hint: it rhymes with "Fig Dig Mig").

The Georgia National Fair, held in nearby Perry, GA, is a celebration of all the things on which rural Georgians pride themselves: livestock, unsafe rides, comically large food, and joy at the expense of others. Despite the fact that Georgia is a State and not a National, the fair organizers seemed hell-bent on convincing the throngs of fair attendees otherwise, posting signs more than 20 miles about the fair.

Once we arrived and rode the tractor-pulled trolley to the front gate, we paid our our $8 admission fee (which apparently went to pay the poop shovelers at the livestock competition). After meandering around for a bit, we settled on the livestock competition and watched as 2^nd and 3^rd grades showed their goats off to the judges.

That may sound unremarkable, but imagine this: You are sitting in a moderately large building with stadium seating on both sides (think high school basketball game), and a parade of roughly twenty 2^nd graders are leading their goats around the Astroturf ring with the meticulous care and concern of an over-protective stage mother. They each are dressed right out of a Wrangler commercial (boots, big shiny belt buckle, plaid shirt), and give no concern to avoid the musket ball sized droppings that the goats leave EVERYWHERE. To be fair, a man whose name must be "Curly," "Hank," or "Jimbo" shoveled the droppings up after every pass, but despite the alacrity with which he did his job, the sheeps' leavings still covered most of the floor.

The best part of the entire competition was the focus of the young goat handlers. They shared a look of utmost concentration and intensity, as if each stride and pose of their goats could win a 20 minute shopping spree in Toys R US (by the way, do they still do that? That was always a dream of mine, to win the Nickelodeon/Toys R Us shopping spree. I even planned out my route, with video games first, then Nerf, then Ninja Turtles. I hope that's still going on).

The intensity of the youngins rose to the surface most when the goats would become ornery, kicking and thrashing around, and the handlers, who were usually markedly outweighed by the sheep, flexed with Hulk-like strength and wrestled their sheep into submission. Truly inspirational.

Having seen enough of the sheep competition to know that we had seen too much, our meanderings (by the way, one upside of my move to Americus is that I'm much better at both meandering and moseying. Finally, I'm at a place in my life where I dedicate myself to getting better at both) took us past a tent where a group of people were being hypnotized and told to do strange and embarrassing things.

Trust me; if you've seen one attention starved redneck in ripped jeans do the shopping cart move in front of a crowd of heckling strangers at a fair, you've seen them all. Then again, if you've seen one attention starved teenage redneck girl prepare for life as a morally-ambiguous barfly by doing the splits on stage, then you've seen one too many. Eeeeeegggghhhhhhh. That one still makes me shudder.

Stay Tuned for Part Two of Exploits of the Georgia National Fair!

A Chance to Serve; One House at a Time

2007-10-07T20:48:00.000-04:00

Author's Note: This article appeared in the Sunday, October 7th, 2007 edition of Frederickburg, VA's bastion of news, The Free Lance-Star, in the Viewpoints section. Follow the link on the post title to the Free Lance Star website.

You could feel the anticipation in the auditorium, the same energy you feel just before a long journey. Roughly five hundred people, who days before had been scattered from coast to coast, now found themselves gathered at Camp Rock Eagle in rural Eatonton, GA, awaiting a person they’ve never met to walk on stage and welcome them to a new chapter in their lives. While all had different reasons to be there, they were united in their desire to make a difference in their world.

This gathering began Habitat for Humanity’s National AmeriCorps Orientation, and I, along with five hundred of my new co-workers, gathered in that auditorium to begin three days of intense training in preparation for our year of AmeriCorps service. For those days, we immersed ourselves in all things Habitat and AmeriCorps, emerging with the necessary tools to meet the challenges of our new roles and to invest ourselves fully and unselfishly in the service of others.

Founded in 1993, AmeriCorps serves a vital need in our society, matching those with a desire to serve, especially young people, with non-profits and community groups addressing the unmet needs of our nation. Most AmeriCorps members commit to a year, and in return for their service, they receive the means to live simply for their service term, including a small living allowance, health insurance, and an educational award once their term is complete.

Habitat for Humanity, for its part, has been involved with AmeriCorps since the beginning. As one of the first non-profits contacted to partner with AmeriCorps, Habitat sent 122 members to the inaugural AmeriCorps class of 1994. Since that time, AmeriCorps members have served more than 1.5 million volunteer hours with Habitat, providing leadership on build sites, mobilizing volunteers, and reaching out to groups like faith communities and young people.

More remarkable though than those 1.5 million hours are the people who serve that time, the men and woman who dedicate themselves, however briefly, to this simple lifestyle and vast mission. During our Orientation, I was amazed at the diversity of our new community, as seemingly each person in that auditorium took a different path to their AmeriCorps service year.

For some, the violent destruction and protracted rebuilding process of Hurricane Katrina stirred them to sign up for AmeriCorps and Habitat. Kathleen Dorn, who serves Habitat in Westchester, PA, had been teaching high school math for the past three years. After a service trip to New Orleans, she decided to leave education and serve young people through Habitat for Humanity’s Youth United program.

“[Hurricane Katrina] made me re-evaluate my goals in life,” said Kathleen, and her decision to commit to a year of service “became not a question of if but a question of where.”

For others, the decision to commit to a year of AmeriCorps came less from a single transformational experience and more as the continuation of their life long passion for service.

“Service has always been a distinct part of my life,” said Ann DeWaters, who, after tutoring recently incarcerated youth as a six month AmeriCorps volunteer in Chicago, committed to a full year with Habitat for Humanity. “I knew that I wanted it to be more than two hours a week. I knew that I wanted to make a more substantial commitment to positive change,” she said.

Ann’s thoughts were echoed by most with whom I spoke, but while this passion for positive change ran through seemingly every aspect of our orientation, it was joined by the realities of our commitment and the challenges of our service year. For our 1700 hours of required work, AmeriCorps members each receive $11,100 (before taxes), forcing many to apply for food stamps or take on second jobs at night to supplement their living allowance.

Along with the financial difficulties, AmeriCorps members must overcome a general lack of understanding from society at large. Those with whom I talked related stories of family and friends believing that AmeriCorps members are somehow losing something by doing a service year, using language like “putting off the real world,” “gap year,” or “giving up a year of their lives.” But when I asked Ann if she felt that she was giving up anything to serve with Habitat for Humanity, she, without a hint of hesitation, declared “No. Absolutely not.”

At the Orientation’s closing ceremonies, Clive Rainey, Habitat for Humanity’s first volunteer, addressed our group and reminded us of the vast mission we were joining. He told us that we were now a part of something far greater than we could possibly imagine, an undertaking so great that our lives may not see its end.

This is comforting to me, as despite the challenges and obstacles that await us, I know that our service does not end with our small group of 500, but continues on in every AmeriCorps member that follows after us. Our mission is simply to do the best we can with the year we have, and to welcome the next 500 into that same auditorium to begin the journey anew.

Where Have You Gone, Mark Warner?

2007-08-22T21:44:00.000-04:00

Author's Note: This piece was published in the August 22nd, 2007 edition of Fredericksburg's bastion of news, The Free Lance-Star. Enjoy.

UPDATE: Almost a month to the day after it was published, former Gov. Mark Warner declared his intention to run....for the U.S. Senate. So I was half right? Maybe? Check out Warner's Senate campaign website at www.markwarner2008.com. Now, on with the ill-timed analysis.

What a difference a year makes. Last summer, former Gov. Mark Warner was busy assembling an imposing Presidential campaign machine in Alexandria, VA while jetting around the nation to line up supporters in key states. Two hours down the road in Harrisonburg, I sat with my fellow JMU graduates and listened to then Sen. George Allen deliver a commencement address that sounded so much like a political stump speech that I kept waiting for him to say “and that’s why I’m running for President.”

Virginians seemed positively giddy with the possibility of a Virginian on Virginian fight in the 2008 Presidential election, arguably the most wide open in roughly eighty years.

Hope, at least for Democrats, remains. While Allen has as much chance of winning the nomination as he does the Miss America pageant, Warner remains an extremely viable national candidate. Upon his departure, he had made great strides into Iowa and New Hampshire and defined himself as the future-focused, crossover candidate that could win in any color state. Given the right circumstances, Gov. Mark Warner could restart his campaigns, seize momentum, and win his party’s nomination for President.

Even with the swarm of candidates already in the race, huge numbers of primary voters remain undecided (and decidedly unimpressed) with the current crop of candidates, according to recent polling data. According to a July 17 Zogby poll discussing the Presidential primaries, 20% of Democrats voters supported “none of the above” (either selecting “undecided” or “someone else”) in the Presidential primary, a number which has held steady since February. “None of the above” places ahead of every Democratic candidate sans Sen. Clinton and Sen. Obama, and indicates that many voters are delaying their decisions until the elections draw nearer.

With so many voters delaying their support, Warner has plenty of real estate with which to work should he restart his campaign. During his brief time on the national campaign trail, Warner touted an impressive record as governor, an ability to work with all sides, a quintessentially American pull-yourself-up-by-your-bootstraps story, and a charismatic personality. Fortunately for him, all those attributes remain true some nine months after his exit.

Beyond his qualifications, Warner also has history on his side. The last two Democratic Presidents, Jimmy Carter and Bill Clinton, were both southern governors who ran as Washington outsiders aiming to clean up D.C. Clinton himself was a late entrant to the nomination process, and although he declared his candidacy a mere three months before the first primary, he still found a way to push through the early primaries and win the nomination. Warner would be wise to follow their examples, as running under the mantle of “change,” especially given that the Democratic front-runners are all firm Washingtonians, would be his best hope for victory.

The fact remains, though, that while these favorable conditions give Warner an honest shot at the nomination, I just cannot imagine why he or anyone else would want to take the plunge. Contrary to what American children learn in grade school, campaigning for President is not the end-all-be-all of human existence, and as David Broder once said, “Anybody that wants the presidency so much that he’ll spend two years organizing and campaigning for it is not to be trusted with the office.”

The nomination process requires the candidates to prostitute themselves to county supervisors and half-crazed supporters, run ragged across America on an unflinchingly brutal schedule, and have their every waking moment analyzed, rehashed, and skewed by the media. Worse yet, the ordeal of a presidential campaign neither prepares a candidate for the presidency nor judges his/her effectiveness as a leader. .

In spite of these enormous downsides, a noteworthy upside remains. Someone in America, by law, has to be President, and Gov. Mark Warner is uniquely poised to be the next man in the Oval Office. He has the gauntlet at their feet; only time will tell if he chooses to pick it up.

Where Have You Gone, Warner and Allen?

2007-07-23T19:36:00.000-04:00

What a difference a year makes. Last summer, former Gov. Mark Warner was busy assembling an imposing Presidential campaign machine in Alexandria, VA while jetting around the nation to line up supporters in key states. Two hours down the road in Harrisonburg, I sat with my fellow JMU graduates and listened to then Sen. George Allen deliver a commencement address that sounded so much like a political stump speech that I kept waiting for him to say “and that’s why I’m running for President.” Virginians seemed positively giddy given the possibility of a Virginian on Virginian fight in the 2008 Presidential election, arguably the most wide open in roughly eighty years.

Now, much like a child who received a lump of coal instead of a bike for Christmas, the collective anticipation of Virginia has turned to disappointment. Allen macaca’ed himself out of the race last August, Warner bowed out for family reasons last October, and with the recent exit of Jim “please ignore my record as Governor” Gilmore, Virginians have been left without a horse in the race. Hope, however, remains; no candidate has been able to fill Warner or Allen’s void place since their respective departures, leaving both men plenty of real estate to reenter the race. Given the right circumstances, both Warner and Allen could restart their campaigns, seize momentum, and win their party’s nomination for President.

Upon his departure, Warner had made great strides into Iowa and New Hampshire and defined himself as the future-focused, crossover candidate that could win in any color state. The former Virginia governor boasts an impressive record as governor, an ability to work with all sides, a quintessentially American pull-yourself-up-by-your-bootstraps story, and a charismatic personality. Fortunately for Warner, all those attributes remain true some nine months after his exit. As recent history has been kind to southern democratic governors running as Washington outsiders (Carter and Clinton especially), Warner could re-enter the race and run under the mantle of “change” all the way to the nomination.

George Allen’s path back to the political mainstream is far more treacherous than Warner’s, especially considering the scarlet “R” (racist) that he currently wears on his chest. If he wishes to resurrect his career, Allen should do what other high profile figures do when they’re called racists: go to rehab. All kidding aside, a public-relations-soft-news blitz by the Allen camp (with the requisite interviews with Larry King, Diane Sawyer, and Oprah) would reintroduce Allen to a national audience as the “aww-shucks” Californian-cum-cowboy persona that Allen had worked so hard to create. Throw in some well-timed speeches and continued foundering by the Republican front-runners (i.e., more of Giuliani’s staff being indicted on cocaine trafficking) and Allen could be back in the hunt by October.

If they need further motivation to enter the race, Warner and Allen should consult their history texts and see how well late entries do in the nomination process. In 1980, Ronald Reagan declared his successful candidacy for President in the November before the election year, a mere three months before the New Hampshire primary that he won by a sizable margin.

In 1992, Bill Clinton declared in the October before the election year, and although he was the fifth of six major Democratic candidates to declare, he still found a way to push through the early primaries and win the nomination. While presidential politics certainly have changed since Reagan and Clinton, the fact remains that a savvy candidate can enter the race late and still achieve success.

Given the favorable conditions, Mark Warner and George Allen could certainly win their parties’ nominations; I just cannot imagine why they or anyone else would want to. Contrary to what American children learn in grade school, campaigning for President is not the end-all-be-all of human existence, and as David Broder once said, “Anybody that wants the presidency so much that he’ll spend two years organizing and campaigning for it is not to be trusted with the office.”

The process requires the candidates to prostitute themselves to county supervisors and half-crazed supporters, run ragged across America on an unflinchingly brutal schedule, and have their every waking moment analyzed, rehashed, and skewed by the media. Worse yet, the ordeal of a presidential campaign in no way prepares a candidate for the presidency. In spite of these enormous negatives, someone in America has to be President, and both Warner and Allen are uniquely poised to be the next man in the Oval Office. They both have the gauntlet at their feet; only time will tell if they choose to pick it up.

Outtakes from an interview with Jennifer Goodley, conservative Christian librarian

2007-06-15T11:38:00.000-04:00

"Right now, I'm working at Heaven and Earth, trying to earn enough money to collect stuffed animals in the hopes of building a stuffed animal ark and putting two of each on the ark."

"My boyfriend and I met when we were both stepping over a dirty homeless person who had fallen out of favor with the Lord. Oh, and no funny business. We're saving 'hand holding" for marriage."

"I only watch PG movies, because I can't stand swears."

"My boyfriend and I hang out until late at night, and when I say late, I mean 9:30 PM, because he lives at home and has a curfew. Yes, ma'am, he's 27. Why do you ask?"

"I believe women who wear pants will burn in the fires of eternal torment"

The Truth Takes a Holiday, Revised Edition

2007-06-13T15:55:00.000-04:00

This is a revised edition (cut to an awe inspiring 700 words) of the article below. Perhaps soon it will grace newsstands everywhere, but only time will tell.

UPDATE (11/27/07): This never made it to newsstands, but yet remains the standard by which all other humorous blog-based criticism of Headline News pundits are judged.

For two hours each night on CNN’s Headline News, the truth takes a holiday: Nancy Grace and Glenn Beck are on the air. While their fast-paced-no-holds-barred-shoot-from-the-hip broadcasts are both exciting and provocative, these commentators strive more to shock than to inform, wallowing in the muck of sensational news and spouting off without regard for the facts. Indeed, Nancy Grace and Glenn Beck’s “extreme news” programs possess a loose relationship with the truth, using unsubstantiated claims and unfounded accusations to attack targets across the social and political spectra, and unfortunately, people are tuning in.

Nancy Grace has made a career of passing judgment and condemnation on legal issues without evidence, either before the facts are available or in contradiction to known information. For example, even after all fact, logic, and evidence stated the contrary, Nancy Grace aggressively maintained the undeniable guilt of the Duke Lacrosse players accused of rape, helping to keep the case (and the falsely accused) in the public eye. The three accused have now all been declared innocent, and the District Attorney is under investigation for his mishandling of the case.

Glenn Beck, rather than making baseless assumptions like Grace, prefers to pick and choose which parts of the truth are most convenient to him, and uses those tiny morsels of truth to sling insults and attacks at his particular targets. According to Media Matters for America, a nonpartisan media watchdog group, Beck has compared many prominent Americans to Nazi leader Adolf Hitler (including Sen. Hillary Clinton and Al Gore), accused Rep. Keith Ellison (who is Muslim) of “working with our enemies,” and called Hurricane Katrina survivors in New Orleans “scumbags.” Beck makes these attacks with such rapid-fire intensity that the audience has almost zero time to process Beck’s claims before he moves onto the next topic, allowing his statements to go, for all intents and purposes, unanalyzed.

As their shows focus more on commentary than news, Grace and Beck have tremendous leeway to make these bold declarations without the need to show evidence, even when those declarations are outlandishly ludicrous. Suppose, for example, that I used this space to accuse Nancy Grace of throwing endangered animals out of her office window, or to insinuate that Glenn Beck has fathered 119 illegitimate children, calling him a “dead beat child abuser that should be locked away.” These allegations are dangerous, caustic, (with a glaring lack of evidence) easily refutable, yet are altogether quite similar to the accusations that Nancy Grace and Glenn Beck hurl at their audience on a nightly basis.

Further, these slanders and lies would not be a problem if no one was watching, but unfortunately, nothing could be farther from the truth. Grace and Beck can garner, on a good night, a combined audience of roughly 750,000 viewers, and they dispense their brand of “the truth” in primetime under the banner of CNN, the self-proclaimed “Most Trusted Name in News.”

This combination of assumed validity (otherwise, CNN would not put them on the air) and popularity (three quarters of a million people cannot be wrong) gives Grace and Beck just enough clout so that their claims “seem” true, when little evidence suggests that they “are” true.

This illusion of truth is dangerous, not only for the victims of these attacks but also for the American public at large, even for those who rarely if ever watch these programs. In our increasingly vague and nuanced nation, where values and facts are constantly in flux and right and wrong are no longer clear, people are in search of the unchanging opinions and passionate grandstanding that Nancy Grace and Glenn Beck provide.

Grace and Beck speak as if no truer words have ever been spoken, as if their words descended from on high are now etched in stone, and, if we are not vigilant, their words will pass unchecked and unanalyzed into the public mind. As the old saying goes, The Lie can get half way around the world before The Truth puts its shoes on, and if Grace and Beck speak without anyone defending the other side, The Truth may never have a chance to catch up.

The Truth Takes a Holiday

2007-06-01T13:59:00.001-04:00

Indeed, Nancy Grace and Glenn Beck’s loose relationship with the truth has damaged lives and misinformed a vast audience. So, as a public service, I seek to even the score, and present news stories centered on the shadowy lives of Nancy Grace and Glenn Beck. These stories are salacious and contrived, incendiary and deceptive, and filled to the brim with baseless allegations; in other words, these stories are right up Grace and Beck’s alley.

Evidence suggests that Nancy Grace is known throughout the news industry more for her malicious abuse of animals than for her staunch advocacy of victims’ rights. According to unnamed sources, the former Georgia prosecutor has been known to neglect pets, kick stray cats and dogs, and even hurl endangered animals out the window of her 23^rd story office and wave to them as they descend.

Grace is also credited with resurrecting the ancient bloodsport of “horse fighting” in her vacation home in Telluride, CO. In horse fighting, participants raise their horses from birth (Grace named her horse “Uptown Girl” after her favorite Billy Joel song), arm them with crude implements of destruction, and then force them to fight to the death in electrified cages.

Although not an accused animal abuser like Grace, Glenn Beck has his share of demons, most notably battling a well-documented substance abuse problem. The details, however, of his drug fueled rampages and the tragic results of his self-destructive behavior are only now finding their way into the public eye.

In one disgusting episode, Beck stole a Civil War era cannon, towed it to the coast of Alaska, and began firing indiscriminately on passing ships. One round tragically found its mark and tore a large whole in the oil tanker Exxon Valdez, spilling millions of gallons of crude oil into the sea and creating one of the largest environmental disasters of all time. To this day, Beck denies any part in the Exxon Valdez disaster, yet quietly displays an oil-soaked cannon ball on the mantle of his Philadelphia home.

Nancy Grace is technically illiterate. Glenn Beck has 119 illegitimate children. Grace enjoys keeping a swarm of bees in her hair. Beck enjoys donning a cape and running around his offices screaming, “I am the King of the Moon!”

If you believe that these allegations are caustic, dangerous, and easily refutable, you would be absolutely correct. These accusations are completely ludicrous, possess only a flimsy relationship with the truth, and interestingly enough are quite similar to the accusations that Nancy Grace and Glenn Beck hurl at their audience on a nightly basis. Because their shows focus more on commentary than news, Grace and Beck have tremendous leeway to make bold declarations without the need to support those declarations with evidence, and unlike my allegations, which are humorous and trivial, Grace and Beck’s come with serious consequences.

Glenn Beck, rather than making baseless assumptions like Grace, prefers to pick and choose which parts of the truth are most convenient to him, and uses those tiny morsels of truth to launch unfounded attacks at targets across the political and social spectra. According to Media Matters for America, a nonpartisan media watchdog group, Beck has compared many prominent Americans to Nazi leader Adolf Hitler (including Sen. Hillary Clinton and Al Gore), accused Rep. Keith Ellison (who is Muslim) of “working with our enemies,” and called Hurricane Kartina survivors in New Orleans “scumbags.” Beck makes these attacks with such rapid-fire intensity that the audience has almost zero time to process Beck’s claims before he moves onto the next topic, allowing his statements to go unanalyzed.

These slanders and lies would not be a problem if no one was watching, but unfortunately, nothing could be farther from the truth. Grace and Beck can garner, on a good night, a combined audience of roughly 750,000 viewers, and they dispense their brand of “the truth” in primetime under the banner of CNN, the self-proclaimed “Most Trusted Name in News.”

This combination of assumed validity (otherwise, CNN would not put them on the air) and popularity (three quarters of a million people cannot be wrong) give Grace and Beck just enough clout so that their claims “seem” true, when little evidence suggests that they “are” true. This illusion of truth is dangerous, both for the viewer and for the victims of Grace and Beck’s attacks. For two hours each weeknight on CNN’s Headline News, the truth takes a holiday, and unless Beck and Grace find their way off the air, I would not expect the truth back any time soon.

Things Are Not Going Well

2007-04-19T19:13:00.000-04:00

UPDATE: This piece was published in the Viewpoints Section of the Sunday, April 29th edition of The Free Lance Star (Fredericksburg, VA). Here's the Link.

Police storming a school. Lines of ambulances with sirens blaring. Candlelight vigils. This all seems far too familiar. Although these scenes currently belong to the horrible events at Virginia Tech, they also serve as grim replays of past school shootings at Columbine and Jonesboro, and in doing so, call to mind how much tragedy and violence this generation of young adults, my generation, has experienced since our formative years. My peers and I have grown up in an unsafe and chaotic world, and if recent events are any indication, our situation won’t be improving any time soon.

We have endured much, my generation. We practiced hiding under our desks after Columbine, attended candlelight vigils for Oklahoma City, and watched in horror as the towers fell on 9/11. Now, more bloodshed, more loss and more unanswered questions as we see some of our best and brightest lost to another heinous act of violence. Although we may not know the victims personally, we can put ourselves in their place and imagine the horrors they experienced. We know them; they’re us.

Our world gets no sunnier once out of Blacksburg, as the news isn’t any better out of Iraq. 21, 20, and 22 years old rank as the top three ages of US soldiers killed in Iraq and Afghanistan respectfully, and all totaled, more soldiers between the ages of 19 and 24 have been killed in the War on Terror than all other ages combined. It’s our friends, relatives, classmates and teammates fighting this war and paying for its mistakes, and when they come home in flag-draped coffins, our world gets a little bit grayer.

The hits just keep on coming. Our generation has come of age in the dark shadow of global warming, avian flu, roving interstate snipers, AIDS, West Nile virus, the USS Cole bombing, anthrax, sexual predators, weapons of mass destruction, the Axis of Evil, Y2K, shark attacks, dirty bombs, letter bombs, shoe bombs, oil crises, and a litany of other threats, fears, and dangers, each more ominous and deadly than the last. We are told that we are safe but not yet safe, that smoking guns will come as mushroom clouds, and that the worst is yet to come. Things, as they say, are not looking up.

What’s more, despite numerous opportunities to invite this generation to the table and seek our help in improving our world, the powers that be have consistently said “You kids play outside; the grownups have to talk.” After 9/11, we would have done anything for our country, yet our president only asked us to go shopping and resume our regular lives. Unless we plan to join the Army ourselves, it seems that the thing we can do to support our troops in Iraq is to put a magnetic ribbon on our car. This generation has learned the hard way that the world is a far more frightening and dangerous place than we could have ever imagined, and yet have only received a color-coded alert system and a roll of duct tape with which to defend ourselves.

In spite of this latest tragedy, and the mounting number of tragedies that document my generation, I believe though that we still have the capacity for hope. We hope that some good can come from the loss of life at Virginia Tech. We hope that the families and friends of those affected will find hope and comfort in their time of need. Most of all, we hope that, when it’s our turn, we will create an America far better than the one we inherit, so that the nation we’ve read about in books and watched in movies will be the one we see with our eyes wide open.