Fire alarms begin blaring and slow-paced strobe lights blink brightly at NFL Films sometime around 11:00 in the morning. At first, despite the ear piercing noise and flashing white light, no one does anything except glance around at everyone else. “Should we get out of here?” A few moments pass, hundreds of employees leisurely walk outside into a picture perfect scene of late summer/early autumn: unobstructed sun rays warming the air to a comfortable temperature with crystal clear blue skies. A light breeze keeps the air feeling fresh and almost spring-like but a few trees say fall is right around the corner.
Footballs are common in this building. Surprise! One is thrown between three or four people on a large patch of grass between the grey, modern-looking, fake metal building and the full parking lot. No one panics. No smoke is seen contaminating the textbook blue skyline, yet the buzzing alarm blares on and on in a recognizable rhythm. Buzzrr… buzzrr.
Boredom sets in for me, but I’m enjoying the beautiful day and I could certainly pull up a chair and spend a few more hours outside. Wondering around with no destination whatsoever, I watch a makeshift homerun derby (a few guys hitting a whiffle ball and running around the parking lot to make big catches to enthusiastic rooting and cheering). Tom does a little commentary al la Harry Kalas. A ground rule double is hit with a 3-2 count in the bottom of the ninth to score one run. Not really though.
Then I go back inside and watch more football in the day care center.
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
Thursday, August 24, 2006
Pluto gets the boot
And I think I’m okay with it. See, the more we learn about our solar system, the more Pluto seems to blend in with the rest of the outer solar system objects. Out there, in the far reaches of this arrangement of masses that is home to our own Earth, there’s a bunch of small, icy bodies hanging around.
Most people know of the asteroid belt that separates us (and Mercury, Venus and Mars) from the gas giants like Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus and Neptune but the Kuiper belt is less known. I don’t know much about it either, but I do know that it contains a lot of small asteroids and things and it lies just beyond the orbit of Neptune. Pluto passes through this belt while on the outer part of it’s very oblong orbit.
The International Astronomical Union is in the middle of huge convention in Prague, Czech Republic. One of the main tasks of this convention is creating a specific definition for planets. So basically, 2500 astronomers representing about 75 countries sat around and debated what makes up a planet and as a result, Pluto is out.
It’s time now to throw out those little mnemonic devices for remembering all the NINE planets of the solar system because that number just became EIGHT: Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, and Neptune.
So far there are no plans to send rockets out to Pluto and blow the bastard clean out of our solar system. No, what happened today is more of demotion, like that time when I a bus boy and a few times I washed dishes. Get it?
Instead of planet status, Pluto will be “reclassified” into a new category of “dwarf planets” but don’t worry, Pluto gets some homeys.
Joining her is the largest of Pluto’s three moons, Charon. But that’s not all, folks. Also now in this sub-planet category is an asteroid called Ceres located in the asteroid belt that was considered a planet in the 1800s until it was demoted. (See Pluto? It’s not so bad after all. Ceres is still around today). Rounding out the “dwarf planet crew” is the furthest known object in the solar system – which happens to be bigger than Pluto – 2003 UB313. The man who discovered UB313 has dubbed her “Xena” but as of yet there is no official naming.
Neptune becomes the furthest “real” planet in the solar system. I like it… because Neptune is my favorite planet. I’m not sure why, didn’t all kids have a favorite planet growing up? I did. My preference, I think, is based of those pictures that are colored by humans based on what we believe is the chemical makeup of the body. It appears this cool blue color, and then it has the Great Dark Spot. I’m sure it’s great for vacationing.
PS – Neptune is actually further from the Sun than Pluto for a while due to Pluto’s wacky orbit. Neptune has 13 known moons and is about the size of 58 Earths.
Most people know of the asteroid belt that separates us (and Mercury, Venus and Mars) from the gas giants like Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus and Neptune but the Kuiper belt is less known. I don’t know much about it either, but I do know that it contains a lot of small asteroids and things and it lies just beyond the orbit of Neptune. Pluto passes through this belt while on the outer part of it’s very oblong orbit.
The International Astronomical Union is in the middle of huge convention in Prague, Czech Republic. One of the main tasks of this convention is creating a specific definition for planets. So basically, 2500 astronomers representing about 75 countries sat around and debated what makes up a planet and as a result, Pluto is out.
It’s time now to throw out those little mnemonic devices for remembering all the NINE planets of the solar system because that number just became EIGHT: Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, and Neptune.
So far there are no plans to send rockets out to Pluto and blow the bastard clean out of our solar system. No, what happened today is more of demotion, like that time when I a bus boy and a few times I washed dishes. Get it?
Instead of planet status, Pluto will be “reclassified” into a new category of “dwarf planets” but don’t worry, Pluto gets some homeys.
Joining her is the largest of Pluto’s three moons, Charon. But that’s not all, folks. Also now in this sub-planet category is an asteroid called Ceres located in the asteroid belt that was considered a planet in the 1800s until it was demoted. (See Pluto? It’s not so bad after all. Ceres is still around today). Rounding out the “dwarf planet crew” is the furthest known object in the solar system – which happens to be bigger than Pluto – 2003 UB313. The man who discovered UB313 has dubbed her “Xena” but as of yet there is no official naming.
Neptune becomes the furthest “real” planet in the solar system. I like it… because Neptune is my favorite planet. I’m not sure why, didn’t all kids have a favorite planet growing up? I did. My preference, I think, is based of those pictures that are colored by humans based on what we believe is the chemical makeup of the body. It appears this cool blue color, and then it has the Great Dark Spot. I’m sure it’s great for vacationing.
PS – Neptune is actually further from the Sun than Pluto for a while due to Pluto’s wacky orbit. Neptune has 13 known moons and is about the size of 58 Earths.
Friday, August 18, 2006
Music update
New albums, tours, and all that other madness
I was a huge Smashing Pumpkins fan when I was a kid. My older brother still breaks my balls about it. In fact, just two weeks ago I received a nice voice mail from him and his friend Kristen where he proceeded to sing the comedic parody song, “What if the guy from the Smashing Pumpkins lost his car keys.”
I think they were the first band that I really got into and it was pretty excessive now in hindsight. Yeah that’s right, I had the ZERO shirt. Wanna fight about it!?
It was from Billy Corgan and the Smashing Pumpkins that my passion for music sprouted into the fruitful tree it is today. And because of that, I’m thankful. I still have all their albums and give them a spin from time to time but I’m quite proud of my diversity.
According to a short message on their website, drummer Jimmy Chamberlain and frontman Billy Corgan are recording. This comes after the June 2005 full page ad Corgan took out in the Chicago Tribune and Sun-Times announcing he wanted to “revive” his band because it was his life, or something like that. Apparently Zwan sucked. He put out a solo record that I heard was kinda crappy. I saw them perform a song on Conan or another late night show and I concurred with the craptasticness of it. Oh well.
Who knows what this recording time will yield and who will join the duo. I think D’Arcy and James are pretty much a no go since they all blew up at each other back in ’04. I wish James would come around because I think he’s an amazing guitarist and apparently so did the guys in A Perfect Circle; he toured with them and then recorded eMOTIVe and I’d imagine he’d be on board for further projects. Hey fellas, will you please get a n***a with anotha album.
(I’m in the mood for some Perfect Circle now.)
I wish I had some nice transition here, such as some news about A Perfect Circle but instead I’m just going to mention that a 2007 Timberlake/Aguliera tour is in the works.
Also next year…
You can expect a new Interpol album. The NYC foursome hasn’t started recording yet, but is rehearsing relentlessly, which is certainly their M.O.
Their contract was with Matador Records after their fantastic debut album “Turn on the Bright Lights” and equally great(?) sophomore follow up “Antics.” Capital Records, which apparently was courting them even before they signed with Matador, recently inked a deal with Interpol. Details are not known.
The Shins new album will be out early next year, apparently. Their still untitled album was originally aimed for release this summer, then got bumped back to October and now is loosely set to release, like I said, “early 2007.” I’m really excited for that one too. They managed to outdo themselves with “Chutes Too Narrow” the sophomore follow up to “Oh, Inverted World” which put them on the map with two songs featured in the cult classic film Garden State.
Another one of my favorite artists, Ben Folds, is releasing what is basically a compilation LP of songs from his three EPs that were only made available over the Internet: “Speed Graphic,” “Sunny 16,” and “Super D.” A few new tracks will appear on the album including a version of Dr. Dre’s “Bitches ain’t shit.” Oct. 24 is the set release for “Supersunnyspeedgraphic, the LP.”
One week after that, the Deftones will release their fifth studio album, “Saturday Night Wrist” which features System of a Down vocalist Serj Tankian on one track. The Deftones say they nearly broke up during the recording of this record due to lack of communication. As did the aforementioned band Interpol.
On a more personal level, since my last blog when I said I didn’t have any concerts coming up… well, that’s no longer true.
I knew is was coming up, but I think I forgot: MMW HALLOWEEN NYC!
Medeski Martin Wood Halloween shows in New York have become somewhat of a tradition now for me and a few good friends; I think this will be our fourth consecutive year, if I’m not mistaken. Oh, and all of them have been UNIQUE in their own ways. (Which reminds me, I gotta order that ticket today.) Last year I wore the Slim Jim outfit for a while but it was just totally uncomfortable and impractical due to having access to my pockets. Plus, I looked like a fat ass. I’m about 40 lbs lighter this year; the search for a Halloween costume might soon begin.
Yeah, they have a new album out Sept. 26 called “Out Louder” with an amazing guitarist, John Scofield, in the lineup. So now they’re MSMW apparently. It doesn’t have the same “ring” as MMW but it’s all good, these guys are probably the most talented musicians I’ve ever seen live.
MSMW is playing the Electric Factory in Philly less than two weeks after the Halloween show in NY. I’m tempted…
On Friday I went to a free concert at noon sponsored by local public radio station XPN at the World Café Live in Philly. Pete Yorn performed a handful of songs. I was thankful I got to see him during the day because I was missing his two shows last weekend while in Ocean City, Maryland.
But! He’s playing nine shows before heading to Australia for a tour: three LA shows, three in Chicago, and three in Manhattan. He’s playing CBGB’s on Sept. 14 and I think I’m hitting that one up with some friends.
“Nightcrawler” is in stores Aug. 29. It’s Pete Yorn’s third album. You should buy it because he’s from New Jers and rocks!
Rounding out this long blog I’ll mention that Say Anything is one of my absolute favorite bands and that you should really pick up “… Is a Real Boy” today. I’m probably going to see them for the second time in October. They’re playing Irving Plaza on the 11th and I can’t wait to sing along and yell things like, “Slathered in the sauce, sarcastic. So go choke on your irony” and “I called her on the phone and she touched herself. I laughed myself to sleep.”
Thursday, August 10, 2006
The quest continues
One quiet Summer morning in the Media Services a few co-workers and I were talking about how Wikipedia is like totally the best thing EVER!
(I didn’t mean to do this… but as a simple aside I just want to say that the word “ever” is completely overused in speech today and it really needs to stop. For example, how many times has someone said to you something like, “Oh my God, funniest thing ever!” or “Best day ever!” When people do this now I reply, “Ever? Really?” Enough already with the word “ever” because whatever pointless thing you’re saying was the best ever or coolest ever or funniest ever or most fun ever is most likely not the best, funniest or greatest or whatever thing ever. There’s no possible way that the picture you just took on your camera phone of you and your buddies making stupid faces and drinking cheap beer is the “best picture ever.” Please, get over it.)
Well then. Here comes the best blog EVER! (Okay, that’s it, I’m never using that word EVER again.)
Seriously though, here we go.
So we were poking around Wikipedia. Glen, while sitting with his hands on the keyboard waiting to type, asks, “What should I look up?” Without really thinking, I saw a box of Cap’n Crunch on his desk and just said, “Captain Crunch.”
It was a very enlightening experience. You can learn a lot of things from Wikipedia. Sometimes accurate, mostly useless.
We all laughed as we read about how Cap’n Crunch’s REAL name is actually Horatio Magellan Crunch and he was born and raised on Crunch Island in the Milk Sea. The son to Admiral Horatio Crunch Sr., the Horatio grew to be Cap’n of The Guppy.
Pretty useless, huh? We thought so too. And my girlfriend made fun of me for it… a lot. Horatio Magellan. Yup.
But after catching a glimpse of the superb and dazzling Tony Danza show this morning the uselessness of knowing Cap’n Crunch’s real name was elevated from completely useless to almost completely useless (after all, it IS the Tony Danza show).
In a blatant Plinko rip-off, the “Extravadanza” has a Plinko-looking board with Tony Danza’s face on it and oversized waving hands at the bottom. Oh, daytime television.
Someone on the phone has to answer questions in order for the person standing above Tony Danza’s Extravadanza Plinko rip-off to get chips to drop. You remember Plinko, right?
Wouldn’t ya know it? One of the questions was something along the lines of, “What is the real name of cartoon cereal celebrity Cap’n Crunch?”
Even more shocking than the fact that Tony Danza’s innovative daytime television talk show even asked, this lady on the line got the f-ing question right. “Horatio Magellan Crunch,” she replied.
I don’t know what else to say.
The quest for the most useless knowledge continues…
(I didn’t mean to do this… but as a simple aside I just want to say that the word “ever” is completely overused in speech today and it really needs to stop. For example, how many times has someone said to you something like, “Oh my God, funniest thing ever!” or “Best day ever!” When people do this now I reply, “Ever? Really?” Enough already with the word “ever” because whatever pointless thing you’re saying was the best ever or coolest ever or funniest ever or most fun ever is most likely not the best, funniest or greatest or whatever thing ever. There’s no possible way that the picture you just took on your camera phone of you and your buddies making stupid faces and drinking cheap beer is the “best picture ever.” Please, get over it.)
Well then. Here comes the best blog EVER! (Okay, that’s it, I’m never using that word EVER again.)
Seriously though, here we go.
So we were poking around Wikipedia. Glen, while sitting with his hands on the keyboard waiting to type, asks, “What should I look up?” Without really thinking, I saw a box of Cap’n Crunch on his desk and just said, “Captain Crunch.”
It was a very enlightening experience. You can learn a lot of things from Wikipedia. Sometimes accurate, mostly useless.
We all laughed as we read about how Cap’n Crunch’s REAL name is actually Horatio Magellan Crunch and he was born and raised on Crunch Island in the Milk Sea. The son to Admiral Horatio Crunch Sr., the Horatio grew to be Cap’n of The Guppy.
Pretty useless, huh? We thought so too. And my girlfriend made fun of me for it… a lot. Horatio Magellan. Yup.
But after catching a glimpse of the superb and dazzling Tony Danza show this morning the uselessness of knowing Cap’n Crunch’s real name was elevated from completely useless to almost completely useless (after all, it IS the Tony Danza show).
In a blatant Plinko rip-off, the “Extravadanza” has a Plinko-looking board with Tony Danza’s face on it and oversized waving hands at the bottom. Oh, daytime television.
Someone on the phone has to answer questions in order for the person standing above Tony Danza’s Extravadanza Plinko rip-off to get chips to drop. You remember Plinko, right?
Wouldn’t ya know it? One of the questions was something along the lines of, “What is the real name of cartoon cereal celebrity Cap’n Crunch?”
Even more shocking than the fact that Tony Danza’s innovative daytime television talk show even asked, this lady on the line got the f-ing question right. “Horatio Magellan Crunch,” she replied.
I don’t know what else to say.
The quest for the most useless knowledge continues…
Thursday, June 01, 2006
KFC’s New Famous Bowls
I have not tried one. Let me just say that first and foremost. I’m not sure if I’m ready to tack the word “yet” onto the end of that first sentence.
When I first saw the commercial I thought, “You gotta be kidding me!?” After seeing the TV spot about 318 times my curiosity was starting to outweigh the initial shock. What to do? Should I try one? I’m not really one to discriminate against food because I pretty much enjoy everything, save green olives and raw ahi tuna. And I am allergic to shell fish. (This when you get your pants in an uproar because I can’t eat those delectable bottom feeders like shrimp and crabs. I’d probably destroy a lobster given the chance. But moving on now.)
Layers of flavor is right! “Layers of Flavor” is KFC’s little tagline for this new item. You can’t blame them for being innovators. Okay, it’s nothing new to put brown gravy over mashed potatoes. Adding corn, eh, that’s cool with me because sometime things get mixed up my plate and if I’m feeling saucy I’ll mix stuff like that just for kicks.
So now you have corn mixed with mashed potatoes and gravy. Fine. Thanksgiving come early this year. But where’s the turkey? Oh no baby, this is KFC. Kentucky Fried Chicken, bitches. Bring on those fake chicken crunchy things!
At this point, the thought is, “Okay… chicken, turkey… it’s all the same these days. Fried chicken? Sure, fried stuff tastes damn good.”
I’m pretty sure that if someone broke into your house, stole your cat, fried it up and fed it to you with some BBQ sauce you’d be all over it. After they’d say, “You just ate your cat.” You’d cry; then ask if there were any leftovers.
Point is, fried chicken with mashed potatoes, gravy and corn is, well, all gravy.
I guess KFC really takes it over the top when they add a “three-cheese blend” to this mix of two American staples: fried chicken and potatoes. That’s when I kinda threw in the towel during the first time I saw the commercial.
When you break it all down, the world will never really know whether this was invented by some genius KFC master in (I would hope) Kentucky or some stoner who went through the drive thru at midnight and requested all that stuff in one big bowl. Imagine this stoner came back night after night requesting the same thing, the fast-food establishment began to refer to it as “the stoner special,” and eventually a manager took notice and mentioned something to corporate headquarters. (Which, again, I’m hoping is in Kentucky because if not the whole enterprise is a travshamockery. You gotta stay true to your roots, Colonel Sanders.)
If I try one someday I’ll write a follow-up. Stay tuned, hungry people.
PS – My friend Brad had one, couldn’t finish it, but said it was great.
When I first saw the commercial I thought, “You gotta be kidding me!?” After seeing the TV spot about 318 times my curiosity was starting to outweigh the initial shock. What to do? Should I try one? I’m not really one to discriminate against food because I pretty much enjoy everything, save green olives and raw ahi tuna. And I am allergic to shell fish. (This when you get your pants in an uproar because I can’t eat those delectable bottom feeders like shrimp and crabs. I’d probably destroy a lobster given the chance. But moving on now.)
Layers of flavor is right! “Layers of Flavor” is KFC’s little tagline for this new item. You can’t blame them for being innovators. Okay, it’s nothing new to put brown gravy over mashed potatoes. Adding corn, eh, that’s cool with me because sometime things get mixed up my plate and if I’m feeling saucy I’ll mix stuff like that just for kicks.
So now you have corn mixed with mashed potatoes and gravy. Fine. Thanksgiving come early this year. But where’s the turkey? Oh no baby, this is KFC. Kentucky Fried Chicken, bitches. Bring on those fake chicken crunchy things!
At this point, the thought is, “Okay… chicken, turkey… it’s all the same these days. Fried chicken? Sure, fried stuff tastes damn good.”
I’m pretty sure that if someone broke into your house, stole your cat, fried it up and fed it to you with some BBQ sauce you’d be all over it. After they’d say, “You just ate your cat.” You’d cry; then ask if there were any leftovers.
Point is, fried chicken with mashed potatoes, gravy and corn is, well, all gravy.
I guess KFC really takes it over the top when they add a “three-cheese blend” to this mix of two American staples: fried chicken and potatoes. That’s when I kinda threw in the towel during the first time I saw the commercial.
When you break it all down, the world will never really know whether this was invented by some genius KFC master in (I would hope) Kentucky or some stoner who went through the drive thru at midnight and requested all that stuff in one big bowl. Imagine this stoner came back night after night requesting the same thing, the fast-food establishment began to refer to it as “the stoner special,” and eventually a manager took notice and mentioned something to corporate headquarters. (Which, again, I’m hoping is in Kentucky because if not the whole enterprise is a travshamockery. You gotta stay true to your roots, Colonel Sanders.)
If I try one someday I’ll write a follow-up. Stay tuned, hungry people.
PS – My friend Brad had one, couldn’t finish it, but said it was great.
Saturday, April 29, 2006
| Go here and watch the SNL Sketch about Taco Town Then click READ on the page to view the Myspace blog that made the real-life pizza-crepe-taco-pancake-chili-bag thing. Oh man. I was crackin' up at the video. The gross part is that people actually made these for real. That's pretty sick, chubs. |
Thursday, April 27, 2006
Muse is a great band.
I’ve really come to enjoy Origin of Symmetry more than their follow up Absolution. Like a lot of my now favorite bands (such as Say Anything), Muse was introduced to me by my former roommate and good friend, Joe. He played the opening sequence of Absolution for me one day when we were driving in his car. The hard-banging, dark and repetitive piano chords sounded deep and full. I had a feeling I was going to like the album right then.
Singer Matthew Bellamy, who also plays guitar and keyboards, has a powerful voice with a pretty incredible range. And I respect that, as someone who sings. A lot of the time he draws out notes and holds them for long periods. Then he may just bust out some soft, high falsetto.
This threesome is from south west England. I’m not sure why, but I guess when a band from the UK with a powerful singer with a good falsetto voice is backed with intricate tunes of keyboards and guitar distortion they are compared to Radiohead. This happens a lot. If I was in Muse, I’d probably be sort of pissed, but not really. If Radiohead was ever to go darker and more aggressive they’d wish for a sound as solid as Muse. I think it was Muse’s first album, Showbiz, that drew the comparisons. Same producer, I believe, that did Radiohead’s fantastic second album, The Bends, released in 1995.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not knocking Radiohead. I love them, actually.
It’s irritating for people who live for good music when people try to compare bands that aren’t all that similar. If someone wants to say that Muse sounds like Radiohead, I’m sure you could compare them based on the fact that they both use guitars, keyboards, drums and a singer to record albums. In that case, yes. They are similar. I heard someone compare Dispatch to Dave Matthews Band once. I laughed out loud in their face, I think.
Moving on. Back to what I set out to say.
I’ve just found myself rockin’ out to Origin of Symmetry more than Absolution. I think the opening two tracks, "New Born" and "Bliss," set the tone for the album very well. They both use complex synth and build to head banging moments of great aggressive drums and heavy guitar. Of course, strong vocal performances by Bellamy.
Origin of Symmetry is darker, I think. But it manages to be incredibly catchy and engaging. If you’re looking for a taste, check out “Plug in Baby” or “Darkshines” to sample. This album might have more piano too. Another reason why I've latched on so much.
Seriously, Absolution is great too. To me, it’s about overcoming hardship and re-birth. (That explanation sucked.) One day I was listening to the album while driving on the New Jersey Turnpike and it made so much sense to me. I wish I’d had a voice recorder because the underlying themes of the Absolution clicked in my head and I understood what the these three British dudes were trying to convey. It was beautiful, actually.
I was going to a job interview and “Butterflies and Hurricanes” was blaring out of my speakers. The lyrics:
“Don't, Let yourself down / And don't let yourself go / Your last chance has arrived. Best, You've got to be the best / You've got to change the world / And use this chance to be heard / Your time is now”
were… amazing.
For a taste of the musical talent of these guys, Absolution is probably a better showing.
I don’t know which one I like better now.
A new album is coming in July and I’m stoked. They also plan to tour the good ole “U.S. and A.” this fall. I’ll be there.
PS - as an aside, I was just typed "Dispatch fan" (without quotes) into Google and there's an old "Dave Matthews Band and Dispatch Fan Site" hosted on Angelfire that is no longer working right. Oh man, I can't believe it. Some people...
Singer Matthew Bellamy, who also plays guitar and keyboards, has a powerful voice with a pretty incredible range. And I respect that, as someone who sings. A lot of the time he draws out notes and holds them for long periods. Then he may just bust out some soft, high falsetto.
This threesome is from south west England. I’m not sure why, but I guess when a band from the UK with a powerful singer with a good falsetto voice is backed with intricate tunes of keyboards and guitar distortion they are compared to Radiohead. This happens a lot. If I was in Muse, I’d probably be sort of pissed, but not really. If Radiohead was ever to go darker and more aggressive they’d wish for a sound as solid as Muse. I think it was Muse’s first album, Showbiz, that drew the comparisons. Same producer, I believe, that did Radiohead’s fantastic second album, The Bends, released in 1995.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not knocking Radiohead. I love them, actually.
It’s irritating for people who live for good music when people try to compare bands that aren’t all that similar. If someone wants to say that Muse sounds like Radiohead, I’m sure you could compare them based on the fact that they both use guitars, keyboards, drums and a singer to record albums. In that case, yes. They are similar. I heard someone compare Dispatch to Dave Matthews Band once. I laughed out loud in their face, I think.
Moving on. Back to what I set out to say.
I’ve just found myself rockin’ out to Origin of Symmetry more than Absolution. I think the opening two tracks, "New Born" and "Bliss," set the tone for the album very well. They both use complex synth and build to head banging moments of great aggressive drums and heavy guitar. Of course, strong vocal performances by Bellamy.
Origin of Symmetry is darker, I think. But it manages to be incredibly catchy and engaging. If you’re looking for a taste, check out “Plug in Baby” or “Darkshines” to sample. This album might have more piano too. Another reason why I've latched on so much.
Seriously, Absolution is great too. To me, it’s about overcoming hardship and re-birth. (That explanation sucked.) One day I was listening to the album while driving on the New Jersey Turnpike and it made so much sense to me. I wish I’d had a voice recorder because the underlying themes of the Absolution clicked in my head and I understood what the these three British dudes were trying to convey. It was beautiful, actually.
I was going to a job interview and “Butterflies and Hurricanes” was blaring out of my speakers. The lyrics:
“Don't, Let yourself down / And don't let yourself go / Your last chance has arrived. Best, You've got to be the best / You've got to change the world / And use this chance to be heard / Your time is now”
were… amazing.
For a taste of the musical talent of these guys, Absolution is probably a better showing.
I don’t know which one I like better now.
A new album is coming in July and I’m stoked. They also plan to tour the good ole “U.S. and A.” this fall. I’ll be there.
PS - as an aside, I was just typed "Dispatch fan" (without quotes) into Google and there's an old "Dave Matthews Band and Dispatch Fan Site" hosted on Angelfire that is no longer working right. Oh man, I can't believe it. Some people...
So dark the con of man
The Da Vinci Code is really a fantastic book. I don’t read as much as I should, so coming from someone whose depth of knowledge on literature is about deep as a kiddie pool, take my advice (for what it’s worth): read the book.
Or anything by Dan Brown for that matter. He has four novels out right now and is working on number five. In 1998, he release his first book, Digital Fortress. It was followed by Angels & Demons in 2000 and Deception Point in 2001. It was 2003 that his controversial Da Vinci Code began stirring the pot, much to this dismay of the Catholic Church.
He’s brilliant. Clear and simple. His wife, Blythe (what a horrid name), helps a lot with research and such. And so I guess “Slater” in Dazed & Confused when he said that behind every good man there’s a woman. “And that woman… was Martha Washington.”
The Da Vinci Code moves incredibly quickly. Chapters are short and the language is both rapid and engaging. The pace is really fast. I think the first time I picked it up I got through 90 pages or something like that. It was also probably the fastest I’ve ever read a book in my life, aside from cramming down a novel for some class in high school.
I really enjoyed it. And here we go… “I couldn’t put it down.”
That’s the truth in a certain sense. The story is step up in the first 10 or 15 pages and you just want to know how it ends. A real page turner.
I read Da Vinci Code before Angels & Demons. They’re both really good. I think I’ll read his other works sometime.
Angels & Demons is longer, but still involves the extraordinary adventures of American prof. Robert Langdon. Not quite as fast moving, but still very good. It’s filled with tons of puzzles and code deciphering goodness that make it a stimulating read, yet easy to get through. I’d love to check out the illustrated versions of The Da Vinci Code and Angels & Demons.
The Solomon Key is expected no earlier than 2007. We’ll see. I might pre-order.
Or anything by Dan Brown for that matter. He has four novels out right now and is working on number five. In 1998, he release his first book, Digital Fortress. It was followed by Angels & Demons in 2000 and Deception Point in 2001. It was 2003 that his controversial Da Vinci Code began stirring the pot, much to this dismay of the Catholic Church.
He’s brilliant. Clear and simple. His wife, Blythe (what a horrid name), helps a lot with research and such. And so I guess “Slater” in Dazed & Confused when he said that behind every good man there’s a woman. “And that woman… was Martha Washington.”
The Da Vinci Code moves incredibly quickly. Chapters are short and the language is both rapid and engaging. The pace is really fast. I think the first time I picked it up I got through 90 pages or something like that. It was also probably the fastest I’ve ever read a book in my life, aside from cramming down a novel for some class in high school.
I really enjoyed it. And here we go… “I couldn’t put it down.”
That’s the truth in a certain sense. The story is step up in the first 10 or 15 pages and you just want to know how it ends. A real page turner.
I read Da Vinci Code before Angels & Demons. They’re both really good. I think I’ll read his other works sometime.
Angels & Demons is longer, but still involves the extraordinary adventures of American prof. Robert Langdon. Not quite as fast moving, but still very good. It’s filled with tons of puzzles and code deciphering goodness that make it a stimulating read, yet easy to get through. I’d love to check out the illustrated versions of The Da Vinci Code and Angels & Demons.
The Solomon Key is expected no earlier than 2007. We’ll see. I might pre-order.
Friday, April 07, 2006
a pink plant in Atlantis
I spent four days in the Bahamas two years ago and this is still one of my favorite photos.
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
On Thursday’s new single “Counting 5-4-3-2-1”
Thursday seems to be sticking with what they do best.
The New Jersey natives hit the road a week ago on their Shirts for a Cure Tour and are no doubt playing “Counting 5-4-3-2-1” and other tunes from their forthcoming album A City By The Light Divided due on May 2.
After a few listens of the first single, I am optimistic.
The reason for my optimism is simple: it doesn’t sound drastically different from the music Thursday has given us before.
Lyricist/singer/frontman Geoff Rickly puts forth another solid performance on this track that on the surface could seem like another “Jet Black New Year”-esque tune with descending numbers serving as part of the hook. Yet Rickly does so while allowing listeners an intimate look at the tragic loss of a young life he experienced while growing up. This isn’t the only resonant song in Thursday repertoire to touch on this theme (“Steps Ascending” off 2003’s War All The Time).
I can certainly see why this one was chosen as the first single. The track is relatively straight forward, but much like Thursday music is composed of harmoniously blended guitar parts and a catchy melody all wrapped around lyrics with an emotional punch.
While “Counting 5-4-3-2-1” has very professional and clean sounding production, the style is reminiscent of Thursday’s break-out album Full Collapse, released in 2001. Not exceptionally surprising is the explanation on Thursday’s website that this song was actually written back in the days of Full Collapse but the guys had never been really pleased with the recording of it.
What also helps bridge the gap between the days when Thursday were a band playing songs off “Waiting” (2000) in basements in New Brunswick to what they’ve become today is the continued themes in Rickly’s lyrics. The reoccurring lines “Burn this city/burn this city tonight” in this new joint remind Thursday fans that the days of “Paris in Flames” and perhaps even “Dying in New Brunswick” are not gone.
Wednesday, February 01, 2006
$36 billion: the yearly profits in a time of wars and hurricanes
The other day I read that ExxonMobile posted 4th quarter earnings of $10 billion. I’m not sure, but I think that’s a lot of money. It’s like a one followed by like 18 zeros or something.
Now, I’m no economist, but something just doesn’t compute for me.
I thought high gas prices were a result of things like hurricanes, wars and garbage trucks (that on average get three miles to the gallon). Hurricane Katrina was a serious disaster, no doubt about that. It just tore the gulf coast apart in every way imaginable: homes, businesses, mass transit etc. Under businesses, I’m not talking about mom and pop hardware stores, even though I’m sure that some were lost (sorry grandpa), but rather the oil production and distribution facilities. I was under the impression that oil rigs in the Gulf of Mexico were beat up or destroyed by this hurricane causing shortages and extra spending to ship in stuff and yada yada yada. And there was a huge chain reaction caused by the hurricane that resulted in super high gas prices.
I was okay with that. It was something everyone just had to live with. There was nothing you could do. Well, except ride your bike to work, I suppose. But eh, that’s no good. Thankfully I got some good advice the day that Hurricane Katrina hit: “Fill your tank up because gas is going to go up 75 cents by the weekend” or something along those lines. I heeded the advice, thankfully. I paid in the window of $2.20 a gallon to gas up and was laughing all the way to the bank when I saw people lined up later that week paying nearly 3 bucks a gallon. Suckers.
But the prices didn’t really subside and the ole Honda Accord’s tank was starting to go dry. I made it a while and got filled up when gas had dropped slightly to 1.65 or so.
Then gas dropped down to just over 2 dollars around me, but is now back up around $2.30, which makes me mad. I guess I’m just cheap like that. Well, frugal sounds nicer. Let’s go with frugal.
And when I read how ExxonMobil posted their highest gain EVER in 2005 at $36.13 I just want to slit my throat. Or buy a moped. I haven’t decided yet (stay tuned).
It just makes me sick to think that the whole time I didn’t really get pissed about paying so much damn money for gas because I was under the impression that it was thanks to Mother Nature and her harsh brutality. A hurricane that seriously disrupts the production of something we are so dependant on was a lose-lose situation, I thought. Meaning that the oil refineries suffered a hit and now the wallets of commuting Americans were getting hit up, hard core. It’s simple cause and effect. Hurricane f-s stuff up, we pay more money for stuff.
That rational was destroyed when I read how corporate America was thickly lining their pockets at the expense of people like me who were upset with but accepting the unprecedented high gas prices because our nation had experienced a huge tragedy.
I wouldn’t say that “ignorance was bliss” before reading about the sickening earnings of ExxonMobil because it still sucked paying so much money to gas up my ride.
Again, I’m not good at economics (comm. major, remember?) but I don’t understand why the gas prices could not return to the pre-hurricane days. Can someone explain this supply-demand thing a little more clearly for me, please? I know the demand for gasoline is as high if not higher than ever, so I guess it justifies the high prices.
But how come in a time of war and hurricanes a company like ExxonMobil can profit more than ever. The government is shelling out millions to help the hurricane victims get basic necessities like power and water. Meanwhile, big wig execs at ExxonMobil are probably buying their wives fake tits and taking them on vacation somewhere where foreigners serve cocktails and have eyeballs made of dollar signs.
Apparently, 2006 could prove to be even more profitable by far if energy costs remain high.
I’m buying a moped.
http://money.cnn.com/2006/01/30/news/companies/exxon_earns/
http://articles.news.aol.com/business/article.adp?id=20060130080609990005&cid=403
Now, I’m no economist, but something just doesn’t compute for me.
I thought high gas prices were a result of things like hurricanes, wars and garbage trucks (that on average get three miles to the gallon). Hurricane Katrina was a serious disaster, no doubt about that. It just tore the gulf coast apart in every way imaginable: homes, businesses, mass transit etc. Under businesses, I’m not talking about mom and pop hardware stores, even though I’m sure that some were lost (sorry grandpa), but rather the oil production and distribution facilities. I was under the impression that oil rigs in the Gulf of Mexico were beat up or destroyed by this hurricane causing shortages and extra spending to ship in stuff and yada yada yada. And there was a huge chain reaction caused by the hurricane that resulted in super high gas prices.
I was okay with that. It was something everyone just had to live with. There was nothing you could do. Well, except ride your bike to work, I suppose. But eh, that’s no good. Thankfully I got some good advice the day that Hurricane Katrina hit: “Fill your tank up because gas is going to go up 75 cents by the weekend” or something along those lines. I heeded the advice, thankfully. I paid in the window of $2.20 a gallon to gas up and was laughing all the way to the bank when I saw people lined up later that week paying nearly 3 bucks a gallon. Suckers.
But the prices didn’t really subside and the ole Honda Accord’s tank was starting to go dry. I made it a while and got filled up when gas had dropped slightly to 1.65 or so.
Then gas dropped down to just over 2 dollars around me, but is now back up around $2.30, which makes me mad. I guess I’m just cheap like that. Well, frugal sounds nicer. Let’s go with frugal.
And when I read how ExxonMobil posted their highest gain EVER in 2005 at $36.13 I just want to slit my throat. Or buy a moped. I haven’t decided yet (stay tuned).
It just makes me sick to think that the whole time I didn’t really get pissed about paying so much damn money for gas because I was under the impression that it was thanks to Mother Nature and her harsh brutality. A hurricane that seriously disrupts the production of something we are so dependant on was a lose-lose situation, I thought. Meaning that the oil refineries suffered a hit and now the wallets of commuting Americans were getting hit up, hard core. It’s simple cause and effect. Hurricane f-s stuff up, we pay more money for stuff.
That rational was destroyed when I read how corporate America was thickly lining their pockets at the expense of people like me who were upset with but accepting the unprecedented high gas prices because our nation had experienced a huge tragedy.
I wouldn’t say that “ignorance was bliss” before reading about the sickening earnings of ExxonMobil because it still sucked paying so much money to gas up my ride.
Again, I’m not good at economics (comm. major, remember?) but I don’t understand why the gas prices could not return to the pre-hurricane days. Can someone explain this supply-demand thing a little more clearly for me, please? I know the demand for gasoline is as high if not higher than ever, so I guess it justifies the high prices.
But how come in a time of war and hurricanes a company like ExxonMobil can profit more than ever. The government is shelling out millions to help the hurricane victims get basic necessities like power and water. Meanwhile, big wig execs at ExxonMobil are probably buying their wives fake tits and taking them on vacation somewhere where foreigners serve cocktails and have eyeballs made of dollar signs.
Apparently, 2006 could prove to be even more profitable by far if energy costs remain high.
I’m buying a moped.
http://money.cnn.com/2006/01/30/news/companies/exxon_earns/
http://articles.news.aol.com/business/article.adp?id=20060130080609990005&cid=403
Monday, January 30, 2006
a Jimmy Buffet concert: wildest party of the summer
A maroon 15-passenger van barrels down a four lane highway towards Philadelphia and follows the sign reading “Last Exit Before Bridge”. The van wasn’t headed for Philly, better yet, Camden, NJ, the location for the wildest party of the entire summer, a Jimmy Buffett concert.
Inside the long, dark red bus-like vehicle were 14 sweaty people dressed mostly in unbuttoned flower print shirts, shorts and flip flops. Four people were sitting on coolers filled with Corona, Coors Light, Yuengling, Amstel Light, and also some sandwiches and a few trays of cheese, to be eaten with the several boxes of crackers strewn somewhere inside this mess of eager folks, party supplies and booze.
Those fortunate enough to place their asses on a bench seat were sitting over folding chairs, a fold-out tarp, another case or two of beer, and a box with a mix of goodies: honey roasted peanuts, tortilla chips accompanied by salsa, and the biggest bottles of Jose Quervo, Captain Morgan and Smirnoff Vodka money can buy.
The van flew down the back roads of Camden, anxiously approaching the destination. Inside, another two beer bottles was tossed underneath the seat as Tim and Frank cracked open two more. “I think I’ll have a Yuengling this time,” said Frank. He was on his fourth. “We’re going to be late!” someone hollered.
“We’ll be fi ne, it’s only 1:45,” the driver replied. We had wanted to be there almost an hour ago. Now there was a line to get in and park. $15 dollars to park.
Thousands were already there. Blue, white, green tarps could be seen all over the parking lot. A yellow moving truck was parked with the back open exposing speakers that were at least 4 feet tall. The reggae music rang out. On the far right, some people lounged in a small baby pool in the back of a pick up truck; how appropriate for this hot July day.
Frank and Jeff, with beers in hand, took a walk to scope out the scene of the parking lot. The cloudless sky allowed the sun to beat through onto their sweating bodies. Sunglasses are a must.
A group of concertgoers made a bar that looked like a huge pirate ship. It was 9 feet high, at least 15 feet long and it was painted flawlessly. It was obvious that the creators were totally proud of their constructive capabilities. They were being interviewed by Philly’s NBC station. A few strides away, a group of people, probably in their late 30’s, stood around chatting with red cups in hand. Nothing out of the ordinary, except that they were standing on a patch of beautifully green grass in the middle of a hot, black parking lot. They had actually brought in sod to the tailgate for the Jimmy Buffet concert.
Of course, it wasn’t long before the unforgettable tune was heard in the distance, and the line that everyone can sing approached. Across the parking lot, voices cried out, “WASTING AWAY AGAIN IN MARGARITAVILLE!” Some nearly screaming.
The concert wasn’t scheduled to start for another 5 hours, yet the parking lots were full. No one else was allowed in. They began putting people in the lot designated for the minor league baseball team, a block down the main strip. Where the maroon van had parked was jumping with silliness.
Small water guns were filled with tequila and Tim shot the girls in bikinis as they strolled by unsuspecting. Hey, it was a good conversation starter. “Hey!” one girl nearly yelled with an angry tone. “Hey, how you doin’?” replied Tim, as he stood up and offered them a drink. You didn’t have to mention that it was Jose Quervo in the gun unless they noticed it wasn’t water. By the time the “water gun with tequila” phenomena died down, 5 or 6 people looked like the got in a fight with a fire fighter trying to put out a blaze. But water, no way, viva tequila!
The excitement grew as the hours of partying passed. Similar to Deadheads - the loyal followers of the Grateful Dead - Parrot Heads are the devoted fans of the long-running star Buffett. And they were hungry for some “Cheeseburger in Paradise.” Buffet, 57, had a new album out called Meet Me In Margaritaville: The Ultimate Collection. Released in 2003, it features some classic favorites like “Cheeseburger in Paradise”, “Fins”, and “Why Don’t We Get Drunk (and Screw)”. But, this double disk album also has new songs such as “Everybody’s Talkin’” and “Sail on Sailor” with new recordings of “The Captain and the Kid” and “He Went to Paris”.
The sky turned from hazy blue to bright red as the sun began to set behind the tall buildings of the Philadelphia cityscape. Crowds had diminished in the parking lot and moved like cattle in the direction of the venue. It was a 10 minute walk from the main parking lot party.
Outside the entrance, Frank – a 5’8” 21 year old Italian guy – recognizes a former fellow employee of his. The 300 lb. black man was selling straw hats for $4 and he instantly remembered the little guy and yells “Frankie!”
Frank hustles over. The huge man grabs him and completely lifts Frank off the ground, bear hugging him and fl ailing from side to side causing Frank’s legs to swing back and forth like a limp piece of rope. The group bought five hats off the guy, and casually cruised into the concert wearing their new straw hats that stuck out 6” in all directions. No eyeballs were poked out, luckily.
Pandemonium brews inside. Thousands of people of all ages cram into the outdoor concert venue, and the overpriced beers continue to flow: $11 for a yard of Yuengling, 6 bucks for a 16 oz. Many had been drinking for 8 hours when Buffet and his band took to the stage. Someone fumbled to stomach a pretzel to soak up some of the intoxicating liquid in their gut. Then the drunk dancing began immediately following the first notes. The crowd was loving it. Buffet and his boys played two sets, both about an hour or so long, closing the night with their signature song “Margaritaville.”
The maroon van again was packed with people as it fought its way out of the traffic jam in the parking lot.
Eventually, after getting a little lost in downtown Camden, the van and its throng of drunkies found its way to Cooper Hospital where a not so sober lady was being treated for a broken wrist. She declared she was shoved, but she had been drinking all day in the sun at the biggest party of the summer, the tailgate for the Jimmy Buffet show.
Inside the long, dark red bus-like vehicle were 14 sweaty people dressed mostly in unbuttoned flower print shirts, shorts and flip flops. Four people were sitting on coolers filled with Corona, Coors Light, Yuengling, Amstel Light, and also some sandwiches and a few trays of cheese, to be eaten with the several boxes of crackers strewn somewhere inside this mess of eager folks, party supplies and booze.
Those fortunate enough to place their asses on a bench seat were sitting over folding chairs, a fold-out tarp, another case or two of beer, and a box with a mix of goodies: honey roasted peanuts, tortilla chips accompanied by salsa, and the biggest bottles of Jose Quervo, Captain Morgan and Smirnoff Vodka money can buy.
The van flew down the back roads of Camden, anxiously approaching the destination. Inside, another two beer bottles was tossed underneath the seat as Tim and Frank cracked open two more. “I think I’ll have a Yuengling this time,” said Frank. He was on his fourth. “We’re going to be late!” someone hollered.
“We’ll be fi ne, it’s only 1:45,” the driver replied. We had wanted to be there almost an hour ago. Now there was a line to get in and park. $15 dollars to park.
Thousands were already there. Blue, white, green tarps could be seen all over the parking lot. A yellow moving truck was parked with the back open exposing speakers that were at least 4 feet tall. The reggae music rang out. On the far right, some people lounged in a small baby pool in the back of a pick up truck; how appropriate for this hot July day.
Frank and Jeff, with beers in hand, took a walk to scope out the scene of the parking lot. The cloudless sky allowed the sun to beat through onto their sweating bodies. Sunglasses are a must.
A group of concertgoers made a bar that looked like a huge pirate ship. It was 9 feet high, at least 15 feet long and it was painted flawlessly. It was obvious that the creators were totally proud of their constructive capabilities. They were being interviewed by Philly’s NBC station. A few strides away, a group of people, probably in their late 30’s, stood around chatting with red cups in hand. Nothing out of the ordinary, except that they were standing on a patch of beautifully green grass in the middle of a hot, black parking lot. They had actually brought in sod to the tailgate for the Jimmy Buffet concert.
Of course, it wasn’t long before the unforgettable tune was heard in the distance, and the line that everyone can sing approached. Across the parking lot, voices cried out, “WASTING AWAY AGAIN IN MARGARITAVILLE!” Some nearly screaming.
The concert wasn’t scheduled to start for another 5 hours, yet the parking lots were full. No one else was allowed in. They began putting people in the lot designated for the minor league baseball team, a block down the main strip. Where the maroon van had parked was jumping with silliness.
Small water guns were filled with tequila and Tim shot the girls in bikinis as they strolled by unsuspecting. Hey, it was a good conversation starter. “Hey!” one girl nearly yelled with an angry tone. “Hey, how you doin’?” replied Tim, as he stood up and offered them a drink. You didn’t have to mention that it was Jose Quervo in the gun unless they noticed it wasn’t water. By the time the “water gun with tequila” phenomena died down, 5 or 6 people looked like the got in a fight with a fire fighter trying to put out a blaze. But water, no way, viva tequila!
The excitement grew as the hours of partying passed. Similar to Deadheads - the loyal followers of the Grateful Dead - Parrot Heads are the devoted fans of the long-running star Buffett. And they were hungry for some “Cheeseburger in Paradise.” Buffet, 57, had a new album out called Meet Me In Margaritaville: The Ultimate Collection. Released in 2003, it features some classic favorites like “Cheeseburger in Paradise”, “Fins”, and “Why Don’t We Get Drunk (and Screw)”. But, this double disk album also has new songs such as “Everybody’s Talkin’” and “Sail on Sailor” with new recordings of “The Captain and the Kid” and “He Went to Paris”.
The sky turned from hazy blue to bright red as the sun began to set behind the tall buildings of the Philadelphia cityscape. Crowds had diminished in the parking lot and moved like cattle in the direction of the venue. It was a 10 minute walk from the main parking lot party.
Outside the entrance, Frank – a 5’8” 21 year old Italian guy – recognizes a former fellow employee of his. The 300 lb. black man was selling straw hats for $4 and he instantly remembered the little guy and yells “Frankie!”
Frank hustles over. The huge man grabs him and completely lifts Frank off the ground, bear hugging him and fl ailing from side to side causing Frank’s legs to swing back and forth like a limp piece of rope. The group bought five hats off the guy, and casually cruised into the concert wearing their new straw hats that stuck out 6” in all directions. No eyeballs were poked out, luckily.
Pandemonium brews inside. Thousands of people of all ages cram into the outdoor concert venue, and the overpriced beers continue to flow: $11 for a yard of Yuengling, 6 bucks for a 16 oz. Many had been drinking for 8 hours when Buffet and his band took to the stage. Someone fumbled to stomach a pretzel to soak up some of the intoxicating liquid in their gut. Then the drunk dancing began immediately following the first notes. The crowd was loving it. Buffet and his boys played two sets, both about an hour or so long, closing the night with their signature song “Margaritaville.”
The maroon van again was packed with people as it fought its way out of the traffic jam in the parking lot.
Eventually, after getting a little lost in downtown Camden, the van and its throng of drunkies found its way to Cooper Hospital where a not so sober lady was being treated for a broken wrist. She declared she was shoved, but she had been drinking all day in the sun at the biggest party of the summer, the tailgate for the Jimmy Buffet show.
spin it with fear
I can only assume that to justify something that is so completely unjustifiable one must turn to fear tactics. And fear is certainly a very powerful tool, especially thanks to American life over the last, say, five or six years.
The “logical” way to morally justify prying into someone’s private life is just start throwing around words and phrases like “aiding terrorists” and “9/11”. It is perfectly legal and acceptable for the US government to eavesdrop and spy on those known or suspect to have terrorist intentions WITH A WARRANT.
This system was set up decades ago in order to permit the government to keep tabs on those “bad guys” while maintaining the integrity of our laws and constitution. From what I’ve read, the superior court who approves and disapproves these warrants that allow the government to spy on people has only given the thumbs down for a handful while giving the green light for hundreds of thousands.
This is where there’s an issue with some people. It does not seem incredibly difficult to take the necessary steps in order to obtain a spying warrant, so where’s the problem? Why scrap a law that was put in place about 30 years ago just out of the blue? Serious damage has been sustained by America by way of terrorism, namely the destruction of the WTC back in 2001. This would at least encourage a more stringent plan for thwarting terrorist, which I am in total support of across the board. We don’t need another 9/11, that’s for damn sure. But I don’t like the fact that George W. Bush and his cronies basically decided they didn’t need to get approval for spying. It was okay now that Americans have suffered a substantial loss at the hands of terrorist. If fingers are pointed (which they were after all this eavesdropping and spying business went public and flew to the forefront of our society) just play the 9/11 card.
It seems to me, and many others regardless of political or professional association, that whenever the Bush administration is put under any kind of scrutiny they spin the situation to make it appear as though those criticizing are anti-American or pro-terrorist. After all, it’s so easy. “What? You don’t approve of the US Government spying on Americans to detect terrorists? Then what are you hiding? If you aren’t with us, you’re against us and therefore a terrorist.”And so goes on the black and white, cut and dry views of our unparalleled leaders. Personally, I have nothing to hide from the government wishing to spy upon me. I’m not planning to blow stuff up or kill anyone. Just not my bag, baby.
So why does the thought of knowing that my government can (or has!) eavesdropped on my phone calls or emails bother me so much? HELLO!? It’s a very unnerving feeling knowing that the hierarchy I live my life under has such power and control.
The government just asks that we trust them to make the right decisions on who to listen to and who to ignore.
Trust? Trust an administration led by a President who’s dubious victory to gain office has been followed by years are deception and deceit? I’ve always thought that the Bush administration has had America by the balls and just continues to squeeze and squeeze.
For some reason, people don’t mind.
Republicans are using this extraordinary fiasco to their advantage… somehow. I find this amazing. If you disapprove of any practice by our current administration you are automatically un-American. If you’re against America, you MUST be a terrorist. Hey, not everything is so black and white.
Fear has become so ubiquitous in the last few years; I don’t see it subsiding until we find a president dedicated on a return to normalcy. That is, granting that the “global struggle against violent extremism” is over. Which it won’t.
Damn, I don’t have any answers.
The “logical” way to morally justify prying into someone’s private life is just start throwing around words and phrases like “aiding terrorists” and “9/11”. It is perfectly legal and acceptable for the US government to eavesdrop and spy on those known or suspect to have terrorist intentions WITH A WARRANT.
This system was set up decades ago in order to permit the government to keep tabs on those “bad guys” while maintaining the integrity of our laws and constitution. From what I’ve read, the superior court who approves and disapproves these warrants that allow the government to spy on people has only given the thumbs down for a handful while giving the green light for hundreds of thousands.
This is where there’s an issue with some people. It does not seem incredibly difficult to take the necessary steps in order to obtain a spying warrant, so where’s the problem? Why scrap a law that was put in place about 30 years ago just out of the blue? Serious damage has been sustained by America by way of terrorism, namely the destruction of the WTC back in 2001. This would at least encourage a more stringent plan for thwarting terrorist, which I am in total support of across the board. We don’t need another 9/11, that’s for damn sure. But I don’t like the fact that George W. Bush and his cronies basically decided they didn’t need to get approval for spying. It was okay now that Americans have suffered a substantial loss at the hands of terrorist. If fingers are pointed (which they were after all this eavesdropping and spying business went public and flew to the forefront of our society) just play the 9/11 card.
It seems to me, and many others regardless of political or professional association, that whenever the Bush administration is put under any kind of scrutiny they spin the situation to make it appear as though those criticizing are anti-American or pro-terrorist. After all, it’s so easy. “What? You don’t approve of the US Government spying on Americans to detect terrorists? Then what are you hiding? If you aren’t with us, you’re against us and therefore a terrorist.”And so goes on the black and white, cut and dry views of our unparalleled leaders. Personally, I have nothing to hide from the government wishing to spy upon me. I’m not planning to blow stuff up or kill anyone. Just not my bag, baby.
So why does the thought of knowing that my government can (or has!) eavesdropped on my phone calls or emails bother me so much? HELLO!? It’s a very unnerving feeling knowing that the hierarchy I live my life under has such power and control.
The government just asks that we trust them to make the right decisions on who to listen to and who to ignore.
Trust? Trust an administration led by a President who’s dubious victory to gain office has been followed by years are deception and deceit? I’ve always thought that the Bush administration has had America by the balls and just continues to squeeze and squeeze.
For some reason, people don’t mind.
Republicans are using this extraordinary fiasco to their advantage… somehow. I find this amazing. If you disapprove of any practice by our current administration you are automatically un-American. If you’re against America, you MUST be a terrorist. Hey, not everything is so black and white.
Fear has become so ubiquitous in the last few years; I don’t see it subsiding until we find a president dedicated on a return to normalcy. That is, granting that the “global struggle against violent extremism” is over. Which it won’t.
Damn, I don’t have any answers.
Thursday, January 26, 2006
gas station attendants
New Jersey is unique in countless ways. I’ve spent enough times away from the haunts of the Garden State to know that this place is full of nauseating nuances; enough to drive foreigners (and I’m talking about anyone not born and raised here) to the verge of madness. It’s the jug handles and the lame-o drinking laws – what’s the 10:00 p.m. closing time of liquor stores all about anyway?
But one thing makes me love this state that I’ve called home my whole life: gas stations. Today the wind chill is in the low twenties or high teens. The sun is shining in the crystal clear blue sky but the hard-blowing wind is quite literally a “harsh reminder” that winter is here, baby. No doubt about that.
Next to the stupid little red light reminding me that my trunk is ajar (that has remained on since late October when that dumb f--k hit my car) is the little orange light. It has a nice glow to it, but is a reminder that it’s time to fuel up my busted ride.
The light had been on last Saturday night when I began my drive to Sea Isle City. I stopped into a Shell station, rolled down the window and said, “Eight dollars of regular, please. Cash.” I let loose an anxious/embarrassed laugh. Eight bucks was all I had in my wallet and I was trying to save myself from a 12 dollar surcharge from Commerce when my checking acct. dips below $100. “I’m going for broke here,” I said and the gas station attendant didn’t respond. Either he can’t really speak English or he just doesn’t feel like talking to some asshole driving a baby blue ’94 Accord with a busted rear end. About 15 seconds later the pump clicked signaling it’d pumped eight dollars worth of 89 octane fuel. I’m ready to roll. “You’re not broke until you move out on your own,” or something like that said the nice man who took my eight dollars. I laughed. (How did he know I still live at home with my parents?)
Okay I’m stretching in saying that button on a gas pump are some form of art. And maybe I’m giving these gas station attendants a bit more credit than is due. But it’s amazing how small, seemingly meaningless encounters can prompt a story.
But one thing makes me love this state that I’ve called home my whole life: gas stations. Today the wind chill is in the low twenties or high teens. The sun is shining in the crystal clear blue sky but the hard-blowing wind is quite literally a “harsh reminder” that winter is here, baby. No doubt about that.
Next to the stupid little red light reminding me that my trunk is ajar (that has remained on since late October when that dumb f--k hit my car) is the little orange light. It has a nice glow to it, but is a reminder that it’s time to fuel up my busted ride.
The light had been on last Saturday night when I began my drive to Sea Isle City. I stopped into a Shell station, rolled down the window and said, “Eight dollars of regular, please. Cash.” I let loose an anxious/embarrassed laugh. Eight bucks was all I had in my wallet and I was trying to save myself from a 12 dollar surcharge from Commerce when my checking acct. dips below $100. “I’m going for broke here,” I said and the gas station attendant didn’t respond. Either he can’t really speak English or he just doesn’t feel like talking to some asshole driving a baby blue ’94 Accord with a busted rear end. About 15 seconds later the pump clicked signaling it’d pumped eight dollars worth of 89 octane fuel. I’m ready to roll. “You’re not broke until you move out on your own,” or something like that said the nice man who took my eight dollars. I laughed. (How did he know I still live at home with my parents?)
Today was similar, except two dollars more. I pulled up to a Sunoco and whipped out a crisp 10 dollar bill and followed my request with a “please”. Again, it was only about 15 seconds or so before the pump clicked. I thought about how this old man must be freezing his ass off sitting outside on a day like today. I handed over the bill and said “thank you;” he replied with a sincere “you’re welcome.” I smiled, turned and wished him a simple good day or something polite like that. The nice old man with the grey beard and cheap black gloves wished me the same. He was probably someone’s grandfather, or else he’d probably make a good one. He seemed really nice.
It then occurred to me that this guy, despite his obvious upbringing in another country, could empathize with a guy who’s driving a beat up car and getting 10 dollars of gas when it costs $2.27 a gallon. He probably knows what it’s like to not be able to fill a tank of gas. He probably can imagine a situation such as my own when spending 30 bucks on gas isn’t practical on a particular day. Not that I’m broke on anything, it’s just that I’m trying to be frugal with my money until my next paycheck b/c I tend to spend a lot right away and then just be careful with the rest until the next payday rolls around. I don’t see anything really wrong with it.
And just like the guy at the Shell station, the nice, old Sunoco worker understood a young guy who is coughing up only eight or 10 bucks to put enough gas in their car (that’s certainly seen better days). They seem to be empathetic, like a starving artist who attends an art show to see a bunch of pieces of shit hanging on the walls. They understand situations; good or bad, we’ve had them all whether our art is done with a brush or a buttons that read 89, 91 and 93.
Okay I’m stretching in saying that button on a gas pump are some form of art. And maybe I’m giving these gas station attendants a bit more credit than is due. But it’s amazing how small, seemingly meaningless encounters can prompt a story.
first "real" blog...?
I've written thousands of words on a myspace blog, but I recently realized that myspace is small time for someone who takes pride in their writting (from time to time.)
So, a toast to new beginnings, in the blogging world at least. Drink up, baby.
So, a toast to new beginnings, in the blogging world at least. Drink up, baby.
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