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10 songs that need to be un-covered

editor — Wed, 01 Sep 2010 03:56:42 +0000

I like going out. I like listening to live music, played by real bands with real instruments who are really singing. Hence, Pam and I hit a local place here in SW Florida called Backstreets, pretty much every weekend. Of course, at the neighborhood bar, you get…cover bands. Which, I have no problem with. However, there are some tunes I have heard enough for…well…several lifetimes. Songs that need to be retired by the cover-band collective. Here’s ten of ‘em:

1) Hard to Handle
I know, even the Black Crows, who made the tune popular in the 90s, were covering it. But the sad truth is, while it has a catchy chorus…the song was never that good. Maybe it has such universal appeal because there’s hardly anything to it, and just about any band—including The Shaggs—could pick it up. Every time Pam and I go out, I joke about how long it’ll be before this song gets played, no matter what type of band is on stage. Doesn’t matter if we’re seeing a hard-rock band, a bluesy folk trio, an omnipop top 40 group, etc., because every band will play it. Thus far? I have never been wrong.

2) Sweet Home Alabama
Okay, it’s a bar, you want to show that you’ve got the chops to play a good ol’ classic rock tune that drips Dixie and the South, so you go to Skynyrd. Uh, the band *did* record quite a few songs, many of them hits, such as Gimme Three Steps, Simple Man, etc. Just because Kid Rock riffed Sweet Home Alabama and everybody knows the words to the original, doesn’t mean every cover band in the country should play it.

3) Are You Gonna Go My Way
Upbeat, a little funky, a little alternative while not straying too far from straight-up rock and roll. Also a little…played out. I understand, you want to show some range, and how better to do so than to stay in rock mode, yet cover a song that was a crossover hit on multiple charts? Well, guess what? This and Stevie Wonder’s Superstition aren’t fooling anybody. You want to prove you can cover a black artist or you have a little funk in you, then bust out a Parliament Funkadelic tune or something more obscure. And no, I am *not* suggesting Play That Funky Music, White Boy—which along with Superstition all tie for No. 3 as songs that need to be set aside for a generation or two.

4) Me and Bobby McGee
I know it’s a showcase song for a female vocalist, and of course, it’s so well-known that everybody recognizes it. Which is precisely why it’s time to retire it. When I say everybody knows it, I’m talking *everybody.* Newborns are familiar with it. Residents of nursing homes know it. And so does everybody in between. Common ground with an audience is one thing, but if this is the only tune you can think of to show off your pipes, you need to take a break and go download a bunch of new stuff, and find something else to belt out the next time you’re on stage. Yes, even great songs get tired, and this is one of them.

5) Come Together/Helter Skelter
Yes, it’s the Beatles. Yes, it’s a pair of songs that beg to be played back-to-back with one leading seamlessly into the other. And yes, if you’ve got the vocal cords to really howl out, “See you ag-a-a-ai-i-i-n-n-n!” to open Helter Skelter, this is a no-brainer. Unfortunately, since ten thousand cover band lead singers currently working the state of Florida alone can also boast they can do this, and another million cover bands which have come before have trotted out the same arrangement of each song in countless bars and clubs and dives around the country (probably the world), that should be a hint. If everybody is doing it, and everybody has done it, and everybody yet to come is probably going to do it, too…why are you *still* doing it? Yeah, I know, it’s the Fab Four, you can’t go wrong with John, Paul, George and Ringo. No argument there. But just because you can’t go wrong doesn’t mean you can’t also go elsewhere. Trust me, at a really hoppin gin mill? You could bust out “C Is For Cookie” and everybody is going to sing along and be hooting and hollering and clapping when you wrap it up. But fun is one thing, and trotting out ‘old reliable’ is something else entirely.

6) Cumbersome
Here’s one that I think cover bands add to their resume simply because it’s…well, simple. It’s a little grunge-rock, a little alternative, it isn’t a hundred years old, and people who aren’t familiar with it can pick up the lyrics quickly and sing along with the chorus. But since it’s simple, you guessed it—everybody knows it. Every band seems to play it, whether they’re fronted by a strong male vocalist or an ill-suited female vocalist. Probably because the tune doesn’t require a singer to have the greatest voice to pull it off, and to do a relatively decent job even if it’s well outside their comfort zone. Hence, time to go in search of something more challenging. You want something a little grungy with a classic sound? Bust out Seger’s Turn The Page. Want something more modern? How about Creed’s My Own Prison? Both songs have more opportunities to show off your pipes, neither one is routinely performed by your cover-band colleagues, and that’s just me thinking out loud, without spending more than thirty seconds on it. You’re musicians, you can do better, I’m sure.

7) You Shook Me All Night Long
Okay, the AC/DC tune is not only a crowd-pleaser, it’s anthemic. Again, everybody knows the words, it’s about sex, it gets a rise out of everybody. By the same token, it’s so expected, it’s more of a surprise when a band doesn’t play it than when they do. I’ve noticed a number of bands lately have been playing TNT as an alternative, which I applaud. A little more off the beaten path, that one. And, every once in a while, a band will really stretch and drag out Whole Lot of Rosie, or even Dirty Deeds. All fine choices. But what about Thunderstruck? What about Shoot to Thrill? Those would certainly get a crowd rocking, and they’re familiar enough that even the casual fan will have heard them before and be able to hum along, if not outright headbang.

8) Proud Mary
You would think, if you were an alien who’d come to Earth to learn about pop culture from cover bands, that Creedence Clearwater Revival became legends after recording only one song. Fact of the matter is, the band happened to record about a hundred other tunes, many of which would be quite appealing to a barroom audience. Travelin’ Band would get the crowd pumped up. Fortunate Son would keep the up-tempo mood in full swing. Bad Moon Rising would get people singing along. C’mon. If you’re committed to going back 35 years to dust off some classics, how about changing it up once in a while? It’s not like Creedence ever recorded anything that’s as challenging as the guitar work required to cover the Outlaws’ Green Grass and High Tides, for example. A little variety never hurts, and while I’m no musician, I know enough about music to remember that if you can play one Creedence song, it’s kinda like the Ramones. Learn how to play one, and you can pretty much play them all.

9) I Heard It Through The Grapevine
And heard it…and heard it…and heard it… In fact, I think I’ve heard it more than Marvin Gaye ever did, or Norman Whitfield and Barrett Strong, the guys who originally wrote it. And…I’ve heard it enough. Yes, it’s one of the most defining records ever produced by Motown. So? There’s more to Motown than ‘Grapevine and Smokey Robinson. Great song? No question. Overdone? Same answer.

10) Hotel California
What’s worse than every cover band in the universe—and probably several universes yet to be discovered—busting out this Eagles standard? Ninety percent of them trying to put their own spin on it. I’ve heard this track with a reggae backbeat, with a funk baseline that could alter your heartbeat, with a soul/blues delivery…you name it, somebody’s tried it with this song. Why? Probably because even the bands figure they need to do *something* with it so it won’t be the same, boring old cover. Which is why you guys ought to pick something else! Yeah, the song is encoded in peoples’ DNA, so what? It’s slow, long, doesn’t really offer your lead guitarist the opportunity to prove he/she’s a virtuoso, and if your backing vocalists aren’t spot-on, you run the risk of sounding like a high school battle of the bands performance. Put this one away, Subscribe to an internet radio service that plays deep cuts from classic rock albums, and trust me, you’ll find something less beaten to death than this.

10 brands/products I’ve always liked

editor — Wed, 25 Aug 2010 17:48:23 +0000

1. Nikon
While I’m no longer in the still-photography game, from the very beginning, I liked Nikon, and they never let me down. Pam still shoots a bunch of stills, and continues to use Nikon. If we move on to a new phase where we need a true big-gun SLR, digital or otherwise? Nikon’s the way we’re going.

2. McDonald’s
People can say whatever they want about Micky D’s, but truth is, you could be transported to another galaxy, or Quantum Leap (hat tip, Scott Bakula) into another dimension, and if you had $5 in your pocket and came across the golden arches, you could get a decent meal and then get back to fighting aliens or conquering universes or whatever it was you were doing before somebody handed you a Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. Is it the healthiest stuff on the planet? No. Does it have the finest ingredients? No. But, it tastes pretty much the same anywhere you go, it’s reasonably priced and it does what it needs to do. And, whatever the naysayers proclaim about the health risks, fuck ‘em. Nobody needs to eat everything they offer in the biggest size available every time they stop in. Get a Diet Coke or unsweetened tea if you’re very thirsty, you assholes, skip the fries or get a smaller order, and stop stomping your feet when you have the option to get yourself something that isn’t going to make your fat, lazy ass even fatter.

3. Levis
If I want jeans, it’s Levi Strauss I’m looking for, and that’s that. The things last, they’re comfy, and they never go out of style. Has any company been riding the same golden goose longer than this gang of denim peddlers? I doubt it.

4. Coke
In particular, Diet Coke. I used to guzzle lots more of the stuff, because it tasted good and was calorie-free. (The anti-fast-foodies should learn which spigot it comes out of the next time they take aim at the industry with agenda-driven schlockumentaries). Anyway, I dig the brand, I dig the polar bear commercials they trot out now and again around Christmas, and I like the way they still beat Pepsi like a redheaded stepchild. If desperate, or at Taco Bell, okay, I’ll suffer through Diet Pepsi. But I need to put a splash of that limey pseudo-beverage in to help things out. Yeah, what’s that say for the product? Washing down refried beans at Taco Bell, and plain ol’ Pepsi won’t cut it. Talk about room for improvement…

5. DELL
When I went blind, Pam and I decided, since I would be traveling to comic shows and film fests, I needed a laptop. We invested in a DELL. The thing is still running, although I have upgraded to…a newer DELL (largely because upgrading from standard CD player to DVD player to show off my movie clips was better done w/a larger screen). I’ve got a big-gun Mac we spent thousands on in order to cut my movie, and unfortunately, it’s already obsolete, and cannot be upgraded so I can run a newer version of Final Cut Pro. System still works fine, picture is gorgeous according to editors who’ve worked on it, Pam uses it to test out web stores she builds, but it was only four years old when upgrading became impossible. The 9 year old DELL I use for my internet radio listening? Can run the latest version of my screenreader ( a thousand dollar piece of software itself), the latest versions of word processing programs and media players, the latest version of PhotoShop if Pam needed it in a pinch, the latest version of Flash and Adobe Suite…you get the picture. Even the guy at DELL was shocked to hear my old standby was still running perfect given the amount of hours it runs every day. If I hadn’t been a believer back then, I sure as hell would be one now.

6. NERF
My favorite Nerf product has to be the Nerf football. The things lasted forever, you could take a shot right in the face with it and not miss a play, and you could dig your fingers into it when making a tough catch, giving every player the chance to make nearly-impossible, highlight-reel plays. These guys make dart guns, boomerangs, soccer balls, you name it, they have a soft version of it for kids. How can you beat that?

7. MP3
I know, more of a platform than a brand/product, but I don’t care what the iPod offers, without buttons the thing is useless to me, meaning I prefer CDs (and the option to change batteries when recharging my device isn’t feasible). When it comes to CDs, being able to cram a zillion tunes in MP3 format onto a single disc is pretty useful. My MP3 discman works great, it’s little bigger than an iPod, and it has real buttons. Can I fit ten thousand songs on one disc? True, I can’t. When was the last time I went anywhere where I *needed* to have ten thousand songs at my fingertips at one time? Uh…never. In a case little bigger than Pam’s iPod pack, I can store my discman and a good four or five CDs. Usually, 750 songs will carry me thru any trip I may take. Best part? If I drop the whole thing? The CDs will likely survive in their slimline jewel cases, and I can grab a new discman for $40 bucks, just about anywhere I am. A Best Buy, Wal Mart, Target, BrandSmart, etc. I’m traveling and drop an iPod? Couple hundred bucks, and without my computer to reload my tunes, I’m shit out of luck. Yeah, I might be a downloadable music Luddite, but gimme the simplicity of MP3 and tactile buttons, and I’m a happy camper.

8. Stanley
I have a hammer. Two, in fact. One is the one I inherited from my Dad when my parents moved from NY and his need for it decreased dramatically. You know what’s good about Stanley hammers? They pound shit. And, they pound shit forever. I have no doubt that all these new ergonomic hammers with computer-analyzed balancing and rubberized grips and polycarbonate heads and all that stuff work just fine. But I learned to pound nails true with a simple, wooden-handled Stanley hammer, and the thing will probably outlast me by a considerable margin. You putting together a tool chest? Skip the frilly. Grab a traditional Stanley, you can’t go wrong.

9. Pop Tarts
Okay, despite my ill-temper when they dropped Milton the Toaster as their spokesappliance, there’s no denying that Pop Tarts delivers the goods. There’s a bunch of flavors to choose from, they’re fairly cheap (especially in bulk), and you can toast ‘em, nuke ‘em, or simply eat ‘em right out of the package, at room temperature. Can’t do that with an English muffin or toaster strudel. Well, maybe you could, but you ever try spreading cold butter on a raw English muffin? Yeah…good luck with that…

10. Joop
Smells good, I’ve never met anybody who didn’t like it, it comes in a big bottle which lasts forever, and unlike a lot of scents (Drakkar, Cole, etc.) doesn’t require a 2nd mortgage to purchase. I’m pretty simple when it comes to going out. I would just as soon put on after shave and leave it at that. But Joop has always been nice, so that’s what I stick with. I also dig the fact that it’s a fairly ‘light’ fragrance. Not like Musk or something that automatically makes you feel like you’ve just spent time in a brothel. I mean, well, what I *assume* you’d smell like after spending time in a brothel…

9 questions I’d ask if I spoke dog

editor — Wed, 18 Aug 2010 17:06:45 +0000

1) It’s a litter box, not a buffet, WTF?!

2) You nose around the door until I get the leash and take you out. Then, you stand on the porch and do nothing but sniff the air. Then we go back inside, I give you a carrot, and you piss in the closet. What gives? Do I need to buy a freaking hydrant? We live surrounded by trees, pooch, trees everywhere!

3) What is it about my pillow that you find it necessary to drag it down and pretend you’re a deer and it’s a salt lick?

4) You’re supposed to have keen hearing along with that dynamite sense of smell. So why, when I bang my foot into the base of the bed, do you go run to the front door like we have visitors?

5) Haven’t you learned anything from watching me regularly kick the cats when they decide to snooze sprawled out in the doorways or in the middle of the living room? You’ve commandeered the second recliner in the sectional, why do you immediately take up an abandoned cat position in the path of my feet whenever possible? Trust me, you’re not guilting me into giving you an extra treat. Well, maybe not. Well…oh, screw it, this one pretty much answers itself.

6) What is it about certain cars passing by that drives you to run to the door and bark? Not every vehicle is bringing the boys over to visit or my parents, and plenty of vehicles go by, ignored. You don’t read Car & Driver. Please explain.

7) What is it about cat yak you find so fascinating?

8) Burying things. You’re an indoor dog, you get treats all the time, and nobody tries to take them away from you. So why do you feel the need to try and bury your bone in the freaking couch, of all places? After the first dozen unsuccessful attempts to hide the thing failed, didn’t you go Pavlov and figure out you can’t bury a bone in a piece of furniture?

9) When I make myself a salad, and I’m sitting in my chair listening to an audio book, you’ll come and rest your snout on my leg until I give you something. Since I’m eating lettuce, that’s what you get. Then, you decide you don’t want it, and drop it to the floor and return your begging doggy head to my leg. What? Do you think I’m Harry Potter? That I can morph lettuce into bacon? Trust me, mutt, if I could do that, Pam would be buying lettuce by the truckload. You can see what I’m eating, it’s in a glass bowl. You can smell it, and I already gave you some and you didn’t want it. What prompts the begging to continue, huh? Just hardwired into the canine brain or what?

10 questions I’d ask if I spoke cat

editor — Wed, 11 Aug 2010 19:32:27 +0000

1) I don’t pet you when you’re in the litter box, so why the need to rub against my leg when I’m on the toilet?

2) You’re supposed to have mad predatory skills. So why is it you can’t distinguish the danger of my rapidly-approaching foot when I walk through the living room and you’re in my way? Didn’t the first few dozen encounters with my toes sharpen the survival instinct?

3) What makes you think that peeing on the carpet is somehow going to convince me to give you more cat treats?

4) The minute I hop into bed, you nudge your head against my palm. Fine. So why do you turn around and position yourself so that a tail flick catches me in the face just as I’m about to fall asleep? Can’t you stay facing one direction, like Pam and the dog? (Well, Pam has a tendency to turn practically sideways while sleeping, too, but at least she doesn’t have a tail.)

5) What is it about my ankles that you find so fascinating that you have to explore them in a figure eight whenever I am carrying something heavy; without a lid; hot; that can spill; will undoubtedly stain the carpet if dropped?

6) You’re an intelligent critter. Why not cough up yak and hairballs in one spot, instead of all over the house? If I vomit, 99 times out of 100, I’ll make it to the toilet, so as not to muck up the places I spend the most time. I have never been so lazy as to vomit on my own pillow, so what gives?

7) Clue me in. Why is it you get bored with the most elaborate cat toys, but revel for hours in an empty plastic bag? Not that I’m complaining, and I know it’s not like you’re going to sit on the couch and play the WII, but come on…a freaking bag?Where’s the challenge?

8) Why do you only find my keyboard attractive when I’m in the middle of writing something important? Did the contribution of: alafoerrthlfkjxu really need to be inserted during the climax of a new screenplay, as opposed to, say, when I was sleeping and the keyboard was human-free?

9) You have anatomical features that help keep you safe. Whiskers that help you determine if you can get through a tight spot. An uncanny ability to land on your feet. So, please explain why, given your instincts and anatomy, you can’t remember to keep your tail away from the wheels of my office chair. True, it’s not a big space for me, but I’m not an eight pound cat. You should have plenty of spots to stretch out, tail extended, without coming anywhere near the rolling thunder of my chair when I’m about to get up from the desk.

10) You’re a cat. You sleep 2/3 of the day. How do you manage to strike up a chase through the house, or the occasional fight, with the other cat, (who’s twice as lazy and who I’m sure sleeps 3/4 of the day) only after I get to sleep? I know none of us keep a schedule, but c’mon, every time???

Nine things I can’t wait to disappear

editor — Wed, 04 Aug 2010 18:45:34 +0000

1) The current congress.
Yeah, I thought the previous congress was awful, and trust me, I was no fan of the republican-controlled congress before both houses switched, but at least that congress had ratings that reflected dissatisfaction, not outright hatred and failure. Quicker the November elections get here, the better.

2) The vuvuzela.
I know, with the World Cup over, this should fade into the rearview fast, right? Only…some of the droning horns have made their way to U.S. shores, and started showing up at sporting events, in dollar stores, etc. Please, as the government did with lead paint, can’t we simply ban these things? Like, by Friday?

3) Joran Van Der Sloot.
Hopefully, Peru doesn’t want the public embarrassment suffered by Aruba during the Natalie Holloway ‘investigation.’ The faster Van Der Sloot disappears into some Peruvian hellhole prison, the better. Especially for anyone with a vagina.

4) The stink of Robert Byrd.
People can trot out all the platitudes they want about how Byrd changed, how dedicated he was to putting the past behind him, etc. But the guy was a Klansman, his racism reared its ugly head whenever he let his guard down (his ‘white niggers’ comment on FOX News didn’t occur in the 70s or 80s, after all), and hearing him lionized like he was Martin Luther King’s buddy and really believed in diversity is sickening. But then, the media’s thrilled to sweep dirt under the carpet or skeletons deeper into the closet for guys like Byrd and Ted Chappaquiddick Kennedy. They’re dems, after all.

5) The oil spill.
Unfortunately, living in Florida, I’ll be waiting a long, long, long time. Maybe decades. And so will a lot of other Americans. Oh, and if you’re a bird or fish? Forget it, you’re fucked.

6) My spare tire.
I know, I’m not alone in this desire, and I’m working on it, but two hours of treadmilling a night is not giving me the Claude-Raines-esque effect I’m looking for…

7) The administration’s lawsuit challenging Arizona’s new law concerning illegals.
Hopefully, the lawsuit fails, the law is upheld, and the people of Arizona can start looking out for themselves, because it’s been made perfectly clear now that the Obama administration wants to protect illegal aliens, drug smugglers, mules and killers more than American citizens. They don’t want a fence, they don’t want cops to check to see if you’re breaking more than one law, they don’t want police to know if you’re wanted for previous border violations and they don’t want Americans even entering certain areas they think are too dangerous…despite those areas being on *U.S.* soil. Dangerous because…of illegals, drug activity, cartel hit men, etc. Please, gimme some SCOTUS common sense on this one…

8) Gun bans.
Chicago’s already apoplectic about it, but it finally looks like a lot of unconstitutional gun bans and restrictions will be going the way of the dinosaur. My hope is the trend continues, and accelerates, and law-abiding citizens will no longer be hamstrung by municipalities that can’t figure out a way to get the guns out of the criminals’ hands, so decide to punish those who follow the law instead.

9) Helen Thomas’ apologists.
Listen, Helen Thomas quit, okay, that’s the thing to remember. There’s no first amendment issue here, got it? The government did not come cart Helen Thomas away, gagged to prevent her from uttering more anti-semitic bile. Thus, first amendment doesn’t apply. As for a freedom of speech issue, there isn’t one. Nobody stopped—or is stopping—the old bigot from spewing whatever she wants. She wasn’t fired. She can go on TV, write a blog, publish anywhere that will have her. Nobody curbed her freedom to express herself. If you’re not bright enough to understand that, you probably shouldn’t be posting about how somebody needs to look into why Glen Beck is still on the air and Helen Thomas is jobless. Try and wrap your thick-skulls around the fact that Thomas took *herself* out of the mix by retiring. If she wanted, she could still be working, although maybe not at the same place, just like Beck or Limbaugh or anybody else who also has freedom of speech and the first amendment on their side. See, just because you don’t like Beck et al, doesn’t mean anybody’s been slighted or had their constitutional rights violated. Next time you want to rant and bring up either freedom of speech or the first amendment, figure out if it applies, first, all right?

10 Epic Fails

editor — Wed, 28 Jul 2010 18:57:06 +0000

If you’re not familiar with the term, it’s become quite the popular Twitter hashtag. And, if you’re not familiar with what a hashtag is, just stick with the overall concept: Epic, and fail and you’ll be all right.

1) JaMarcus Russell
Now, without question, the biggest bust in NFL history. And, I’m not talking breast size. Recently arrested for possession of a controlled substance (probably the only thing he controlled, his passing accuracy with the Raiders was nonexistent), this guy looks to have all but pissed away a career that easily could have been worth a few hundred million, due to his laziness, lethargy, and a work ethic that makes my cats look industrious.

2) The Obama Administration response to the BP oil spill.
Actually, ‘response’ is kinda stretching it, because almost three months in, and there’s hardly been one. Oh sure, some trips, some speeches, a televised address. But…where’s the actual *response?* Where’s the acceptance of international help from the 30+ nations offering it? Where’s the waiver of the Jones Act in order to have the best-equipped ships in the world circling the Gulf non-stop? Where’s the EPA to step in and take over, or the Army Corps of Engineers, once it became obvious that nothing BP tried was effective in protecting the entire Gulf of Mexico and American coastline? Where’s the free access to the beaches for the media, since BP swears up and down that it isn’t using private security firms like Talon and Wackenhut to prevent reporters from seeing the true magnitude of the devastation? Basically, where is the leadership, which should’ve shown up somewhere around day 5 of this disaster?

3) New Jersey Nets.
Jay-Z? That, and oodles of money, was the best you could do in trying to woo LeBron James to your sorry franchise? With Chris Bosh already off the table, and the Knicks having snagged Amare Stoudemire, then LeBron darting to Miami from Cleveland, where’s your backup plan? Six teams wanted James, and only one could get him. As other free agents rapidly disappear, you’re next move is…what, exactly? Have Jay play power forward?

4) Lindsay Lohan.
What, do I really need to spell it out? Is there anyplace this celebrity train wreck *isn’t* an epic fail, except in the being-able-to-drink-you-under-the-table department?

5) France’s World Cup soccer team.
Wholly embarrassed first by their play on the field, then by internal strife, then by their players’ mutiny and refusal to practice, the 2010 World Cup squad shamed an entire nation. Sorry, I don’t care if you believe the coach is doing a lousy job. When you suck in terms of being competitive, and you refuse to practice, you can’t blame the coach for not putting the ball into the net. And, last I checked, it’s a really, really, really big net. Plus, consider this. Given how few substitutions are made, and how long you prepare, how important is the coach when it comes to the players’ actual performance? Your 11 best guys can’t work hard, practice hard, and play a faster tempo than the coach directed? When your country’s best athletes are on the pitch and the wheels are falling off, what? You’re not men enough to forego the coach’s strategy and play aggressively? Play to win? It’s not like the coach can pull all 11 of you if he doesn’t like the style of play, so what gives? Why be such whiny bitches in front of the whole world? Oh, wait, I forgot. You’re the French. Never mind.

6) Nancy Pelosi, in claiming unemployment checks are a great job creator.
Huh? Really, Nancy? Yeah, let me get this straight, because I’m not sure which school of economics you’re subscribing to. Unemployment checks, which represent a fraction of what you *used* to make when you had a job, is essentially survival money. And that pittance of former wages is supposed to be a good job creator…how? By taking taxpayer money away from the employed, who could use it on discretionary spending, and giving it to people just looking to get by, we’re growing the economy? Is that really what you tried to say last week? And you’re still in office??? No doubt, there’s truth to your claim that it’s money that goes right back into the economy. People use it to buy necessities. But, given how you brag about how you’ve passed this over and over and over and over and will pass it again (extension of unemployment benefits), can you please explain why unemployment is still around 9.7%? Do you honestly believe that the jobless rate is based solely on an economy of bread, milk and egg sales? Get real. The best job creator is lower taxes, private sector growth, and households with increasing disposable income for discretionary spending. If 50% of the people in the country were all getting unemployment, trust me, the job growth and economic benefit wouldn’t support your premise, just as it doesn’t right this minute, especially since unemployment’s risen since Obama took office, it’s risen since you became house speaker, it’s risen since you and your pals took over congress in 2006, and that’s *despite* multiple-passages of unemployment benefits extensions. Sorry, just the facts, ma’am, which show you to be a clueless boob.

7) The dismissal of General Stanley McChrystal.
Uh, remember when it was General Shinseki criticizing Bush for not having enough troops in theatre and he became the darling of the left and the mainstream media? When John Kerry spoke his name like a mantra? How it was speaking ‘truth to power’ to be critical of leadership? Tell you what. Go read the Rolling Stone article. The whole thing. Most of the critical comments? Made by aides and associates, several unnamed. Read what McChrystal actually said. Then, think back. Oh yeah, McChrystal was put in charge by…Barack Obama, who dumped the previous General. And why??? So McChrystal could conduct a review of Afghanistan war policy, make recommendations, and turn the war around. McChrystal does it, and Obama sits on his ass, so McChrystal talks, and everyone freaks. Recall, however, that Obama *did* adopt not only McChrystal’s strategy, but grudgingly gave in and increased troop levels. Funny, criticize a republican commander-in-chief, and the world’s your oyster. Criticize a democrat commander-in-chief, and be summarily removed and replaced, by the *same* guy the left ran ads about, labeling him, “General Betray-Us.” Uh, you see any such MoveOn.org ads shredding Obama’s new man in Afghanistan when that announcement was made? Nope. Not a peep.

8) Joran Van Der Sloot retracting his confession.
Oh, he was tricked into confessing to murder? The FBI lured him to Peru in an attempt to sting him over the Natalie Holloway disappearance? O-kay…sure. You know, I have no clue why the FBI luring Van Der Sloot anywhere is really important, because unless he can prove it was the FBI who walked into his room on videotape with that woman, and the FBI who walked out and left her corpse behind…who gives a damn *how* he wound up in Peru? The key is, he and a woman retired to his room. Only one of them left still breathing. I don’t care if space aliens transported him there from Holland on the say-so of Tommy Lee Jones and Will Smith acting on behalf of the U.S. government, bottom line is, that dead girl? She’s on your tab, Joran, no matter how much you try and muddy the waters. Why you were there isn’t remotely as important as what you did once you arrived.

9) The Mets trade talks for Mariners ace Cliff Lee.
Are you serious? Was Omar Minaya just blowing smoke, or really trying to pull off a trade? With…what, exactly? And, how was he planning on paying Lee? Lee was available before, and the Mets didn’t make the move, yet they somehow thought that now, because they’ve been overachieving, that they could get the Mariners to just give him away? Look what it took the Rangers to get him, guys, getting into the bidding just looks plain embarrassing now.

10) Jonah Hex.
You know, it didn’t matter that I couldn’t see the Jonah Hex flick. I was happy it was finally going to get made. If you want to know how long this one’s been kicked around, I could still see and was doing comic conventions regularly when the notion of a Jonah Hex film first started gaining traction. So, too late for me to enjoy it, but so what? I missed the long-discussed fourth installment in the Indiana Jones franchise, but I was still glad Harrison Ford donned the fedora again. Along the way, I find out that the movie is going to have big budget special effects, nobody’s going to pretty up Hex’s scarred face, that solid actors (Josh Brolin and John Malkovich) are going to star, and they filled out the sex appeal quotient by casting Megan Fox as Lilah. Hex is a bad ass, it’s a western, should be a cinch to make a fun comic-book movie, right? Well, how the filmmakers managed to so destroy everything (from concept to credits) I’m not quite sure, but this sure as hell looks like one cinematic Hindenburg. Malkovich, I’m told, is awful. Brolin mumbles almost unintelligibly throughout. Fox is shriekingly bad as Lilah. The movie only runs about 80 minutes—and ten are credit sequence! Just a debacle, and Roger Ebert had a great line about it, check out his Twitter page, I won’t spoil it for you. I’ve seen several reviews, (Sci-Fi wire had one of the best), and this movie makes Giglie seem like a critical darling. Oh well, so much for that franchise…

Americans won’t do certain jobs? Hogwash. (But, here’s 10 I wouldn’t be thrilled with…)

editor — Wed, 21 Jul 2010 20:41:06 +0000

You’ve probably heard the arguments in the illegal alien debate—they’re just looking to make a better life for themselves. They want to embrace the American dream. And of course, the ol‘ ‘They’re willing to do jobs Americans don’t want to.’ Well, I think that’s utter crap, particularly with the economy in the shitter, but really, if you want some jobs even I wouldn’t want? Here they are…

1) Pope
In addition to the atheist thing being guaranteed to make my hiring uncomfortable, there’s the whole hassle of having to pray all the time, not to mention traveling to third world countries where I wouldn’t want to go even if I were immune to all forms of bacterial infection. Add in the funny hat and the sex scandals over kiddie diddling? Nope, not for me. Juan, you’re up!

2) Naomi Campbell’s housekeeper
The truth? I’d rather enlist and go to Afghanistan. At least there’s a gig where you know every dollar you earn is hazard pay. But getting spit on, clawed, and having cell phones fired at you like grenades with ring tones? Nope, sorry. I’ll pass. I’m sure Courtney Love’s place can use some sprucing up, instead.

3) Chair of the IPCC panel on global warming
Who’d want Rajendra K. Pachauri’s job? First, you have the folks who understand that, hey, climate has always changed, and so don’t subscribe to Al Gore’s sky-is-falling approach to global warming. Then, there’s that sticky scandal over the e-mails that leaked, which pretty much show the IPCC to be working a scam the likes of which Bernie Madoff could only dream of. Oh, and then there’s the hysterical claims about the way Himalayan glaciers would disappear by 2035, which turned out to be based on *zero* scientific evidence or research, and which has since been wholly debunked? Yeah, *not* exactly a good career move, taking that position. Plus, even if you’re not full of shit, you still have to deal with the UN. Who needs that kind of aggrivation? Why not be a mule for a Mexican drug cartel, instead?

4) President of ACORN
Yeah, I know. Most of you’d rather be a fisherman in the Bering Sea during the winter months in a leaky boat. Still, it’s a job, and some schmuck has to do it. Although, the good thing is, perhaps not for much longer. If congress changes hands, maybe there’ll be some pressure put on the administration to actually investigate these fraudsters, and they can be taken down in a RICO-style prosecution. At least prison would spare these scumbags from having to appear in any more Breitbart undercover videos, right?

5) Head coach, Oakland Raiders
You get to work for Al Davis, who has a penchant for trying to force coaches to quit, or simply firing you without paying off your contract unless subjected to protracted legal action. Your input into the draft is secondary to any athlete’s time in the 40, which seems to be the benchmark by which Grampa Al judges all players. Your boss fired a coach for noticing that JaMarcus Russell was perhaps the worst quarterback since Ryan Leaf to throw a pass, and who guaranteed the league’s biggest bust $39 million guaranteed. Need more? Well, there’s the need to live at least close to Oakland. And Darius Hayward-Bey, who catches footballs about as well as anybody with lobster claws for hands. Oh, and did I mention Al Davis? Hey, cheer up, Pedro, you can probably secure a job with the Sacramento Kings if it doesn’t work out for you with the silver and black.

6) Fact checker on a Michael Moore documentary
Sure, at first, it looks appealing. Like being the on-call physician to a superstar like Michael Jackson. But despite no experience necessary, and needing to pay zero attention to detail, there’s still the need to work with Moore, and having to go home knowing you earned a paycheck for doing absolutely nothing. Kind of like Harry Reid, only you get less face time. But I can see the appeal to Esteban, who may be up for slacking off after time spent with the great Mexican symbolic figure, Manual Labor.

7) Security chief, Columbia University
How tough is it to secure a small lecture venue in order to ensure that an invited guest can give his/her scheduled speech? Obviously, harder when it comes to the founder of the Minuteman organization than for the President of Iran. Talk about a lousy gig. Kids with banners and pies can rush the stage at will, making you look like a total bonehead, and in response you get to…ignore it. Yup, you don’t actually get to escort any protesters out. You don’t get to allow the event to actually take place. You just eat shit and look incompetent because the university doesn’t give a damn about freedom of speech for a U.S. citizen who is interested in talking about upholding the law. But it’ll make you bend over to take it in the ass if a single heckler dares whisper too loud when a man who calls for the extermination of all Jews is holding court in your rotunda. Miguel? you may want to pass on this for something easier, like being on the anti-gang task force…in Compton.

8) Babysitter/nanny for Nadya Suleman
If you fill out an application to work for Octomom, you’re already being taken advantage of. Not only were the eight kids *not* enough for the wannabe reality show baby factory, she has a total of 14 kids. Think about that. Single mom, small home, 14 infants and toddlers. There are penned chickens who have better working conditions. Cows who find the slaughterhouse preferable to that zoo. She’s broke, the house is under threat of foreclosure, and her most promising job offer is to do a gang-bang video wherein she takes on eight guys. Can you imagine having to help her prep for that? Not only will you be running around changing diapers ‘round-the-clock, but in between swabbing asses and cleaning spit-up, you’re expected to hurl jello shot cups of warm mayonaise at her to get her ready for her small-screen debut? Without question, hadda be better to be an orderly at Bedlam. Hey, I’m half-Hispanic, so I understand the stereotype. Latinos know from having big families. But *this* kinda big? Even the most desperate of border jumpers might run back to Chihuahua after a week of handling infant bodily functions to the 14th power.

9) Any position, ScottEVest
Check out some of this ass clown’s response videos to Loren Feldman, of 1938Media.com. Scott’s abusive, foul-mouthed, prone to fly into a rage at the slightest thing, and in general, can’t understand one of the shortest words in the English language: No. This guy has terrorized people he’s dealt with over the phone, so I can only imagine what working for him directly must be like. This guy was such an asshole, I had to step in to tell him he had to stop calling my wife’s company. She didn’t want to take his phone calls any longer, he was that bad. I can be rather unpleasant on the phone when pushed to it. It isn’t pretty. But that’s reserved for worst-case-scenarios only. This mental midget? I had to tell him straight up, he could never, ever again call any of our phone numbers. That we would never, under any circumstance, work with him again. That no matter how desperate he might need something done for his online store, his money was not worth having to deal with him, on any level, for any amount of time. He finally took the hint. But don’t take my word for it. Check out his ‘douche bag’ video (and the ring tone Loren made of it) for just a taste of what this loser is like. He’ll attack you, your wife, anybody he can when things don’t go his way, as evidenced by his own uploads. Yolanda? Given the choice? Naomi Campbell is starting to look better…

10) Agent, Tiki Barber
NBC has pretty much phased him out of their Football Night in America broadcast (though at least he doesn’t have to work with Keith Olbermann any more). He’s listed as a contributor for the Today Show, although they aren’t exactly ringing his phone off the wall with assignments. He tried going to FOX, and they didn’t want him. He pissed off the Giants when he ran his mouth after retiring (after which they promptly won a Super Bowl). Now? How marketable is a guy who just dumped his 8-months-pregnant-with-twins wife, for a babysitter he’s reportedly been fucking behind her back for over a year? How many networks want *this* guy working their broadcasts? He’s going to get cleaned out in the divorce (his wife’s already filed papers, according to reports), and the market for signatures on pro football cards isn’t exactly a big bucks proposition. You’ve probably got a better shot being the agent for disgraced New Jersey governor Jim McGreevey, trying to pimp a new reality show for motorcycle guru and fellow cheater Jesse James, or putting together a big Jacksons reunion tour now that Mikey the molester is dead. Sure got your work cut out for you, Mariella. And you thought being a prostitute in Tijuana was a dead-end job…

First 10 things George Steinbrenner will do upon reaching heaven

editor — Wed, 14 Jul 2010 16:58:20 +0000

1) Hire Billy Martin

2) Shake up that ’27 Yankees lineup

3) Threaten to sit Lou Gherig next time his batting average drops below .320

4) Raise ticket prices for seats in Jesus level and apostle box seats

5) Fire Billy Martin

6) Interview managerial candidates. On short list: Casey Stengel, Billy Martin…

7) Demand God supply new stadium with more luxury boxes. See if there’s anything the big man can do about getting Ronan Tynan up here quicker.

8) What do you mean, I can only sign dead Yankees as free agents? Got to challenge that rule.

9) Hire Billy Martin. Get into fight at press conference. Fire Billy Martin.

10) What? No premium cable package? Everything’s on free TV? Gotta have a word with the big man about *that.*

Eleven days I would like to return to via time travel

editor — Wed, 07 Jul 2010 17:03:59 +0000

This list is Quantum Leap defined, meaning, I could only travel to one point or another in my lifetime. Still, no shortage of visits I’d like to make to the past.

1) Sept. 10, 2001
Could I stop it? Maybe, maybe not. Isn’t this the conundrum everyone from Steven Hawking to theoretical physicists to Gene Roddenbury has with time travel, changing the past? My thought? Fuck it. If I could go back to the day before the September 11 terrorist attacks, I’d do everything possible to alert the authorities, and spare the U.S. and those killed. Be nice if the hijackers still wound up dead, though, in some freakish series of simultaneous incidents post-arrest. To Hell with what the Council on Islamic-American relations would’ve said…

2) Second Wednesday in April, 1984
I’m pretty sure this was the day. Given a calendar, I could probably figure it out. But the exact date isn’t important. It’s not like a historical event (see No. 1) occurred that day. But I did cut school, met up with my girlfriend (who had also cut school, delinquints such as we were), and spent the day fooling around. Some pretty serious fooling around, at that. Won’t go into details, but as you can imagine, for a 16 year old? It was a pretty memorable day. Well worth skipping class. Not that any reason wasn’t a good one to skip class, but still…

3) Friday, April 16, 2010
Think I pegged it right, if my (often lousy) math is correct. Only a brief jaunt to the past, so as to breeze into a service station and pick up a Powerball ticket. Trust me, the clerk who won the $254 million bucks? Wouldn’t have bitched about winning $127 mil if he didn’t know any better.

4) November somethingorother, 1992
The date in question? The night my hockey team played the heavily-favored Devils for the league championship. We’d gotten blown out in game one, 12-2 I believe. Then, we pulled out a win in Game 2, forcing the deciding rubber game. We were down 2-0 late in the second, when I took a puck out from the corner, got up to about the red line, and just teed off, with time running out. I caught a break, the shot dribbled in, and we went to the third trailing by one. Midway through? I caught a great pass (think Brian Mackie fed me on it) and snapped a low wrister into the twine to tie it up. And, the reason going back would be so fun? With about two minutes left in the game and near the end of a long shift, Mike Richford has a guy freaking draped on his back, moving behind the net, trying to get free. Whilst taking a beating in the slot from a sonofabitch named Biggs who’d absolutely planted me early in the first, I got Mike’s attention and a bouncing pass which I one-timed low glove side. I can remember the shot like it happened yesterday. Kings win, 3-2. I probably oughta credit an ex who delivered a bit of motivation prior to the game but…well, won’t get into details on that part, either.

5) First Saturday in December, 1991
Another date I could probably figure out, because I think I still have the ribbon from that tournament. Only, it wasn’t hockey, but Fordham debate. I had a pretty good weekend, but the real reason for the return to the past would be to change what went down. Or, didn’t, as it were. See, this is one of those mistakes I would correct having the benefit of hindsight. I had a shot to make a move on my debate partner, after a relatively ugly incident earlier in the evening had me and two other guys ready to go crack some heads. Our hosts (three guys from Rhode Island College) were kind of crossing the line with the girl in question, and all four of them had probably had one too many. Back then? I carried (discreetly) one of those bad-ass Crocodile Dundee knives. Thing was freaking enormous. And I had it out, talking with Dave and Sloane about putting it to use in getting a couple of drunken bozos to back off my debate partner. Luckily, it never came to it. But she and I wound up staying up real, real, real late, and the opportunity was there. I’m not talking about anything serious, not sleeping together or anything like that, but at least to make the move. I didn’t act on it. I should have.

6) September 6, 2005
A couple of weeks after wrapping principal photography on my first feature film, The Bunker, I sent off the master tapes to Hart Fisher, who was supposed to do the rough cut. The editor I’d hired to cut the flick, who had a killer reel, wound up having to move to Jersey, where he or his wife (I forget which) had gotten a sweet offer with a TV station up there. Hart was never supposed to be the editor on The Bunker, but he volunteered to do the rough cut, so I sent him the tapes. I had all sorts of other hassles—hurricanes were waiting in the wings to screw things up on several scenes, for starters–but if I could go back, he’d never have even touched the footage. Incompetence, huge delays, an inability to do a decent film look, and three years later he still hadn’t cut the stuff he was originally supposed to. I wound up hiring somebody else, much better, right out of film school, and she put together a cut that got screened at the Halloween Horror Picture Show film festival; Jani Con; showings at two Florida SuperCons, and which garnered two offers from distribution companies (one being Galloping Films) to release the movie. If I didn’t have to reshoot a scene to trim the last vestiges of HDF involvement from the film, the thing would have been out back in 2007 when it was supposed to be, before the economy tanked and cash deals for indie flicks dried up like a salted slug. There’s not a lot of mistakes I would want to go back and correct that badly, but this is at the top of the list.

7) May 21, 1981
I’m sitting at home, waiting excitedly for 8 o’clock to arrive, because the Islanders are home for Game 5 of the Stanley Cup playoffs, and I have no doubt that they are going to roll over the Minnesota North Stars to win their second straight Cup. The phone rings. It’s my Dad. He tells me to get dressed, we’re going out. I tell him, we can’t go out! The Islanders are playing for the Stanley Cup. His reply? “I know. I just got tickets.” So, we wind up sitting about five rows off the ice, and the Isles deliver, knocking off Minnesota 4 games to 1. It takes us approximately two hours just to get out of the Nassau Coliseum parking lot, and the traffic didn’t bother us at all. Fans were dancing on the rooves of their cars, the chants of “Let’s Go Islanders” could be heard with accompanying car-horn beeps…it was everything you imagine winning a major championship in pro sports is like, and being there live to see it. I went to a shitload of Islanders games over the years, but I’ll go to my grave remembering that night, and the great time we had. Perhaps second to the game in terms of memorable? The look on my Dad’s face upon our foray into the Men’s room after the second period, to find it so overcrowded that two guys were simultaneously pissing in a sink. Unpleasant? Sure. But the look on my Dad’s face was utterly priceless. He probably remembers that as much as the game itself, and we still laugh about it to this day, almost 30 years later.

8) April again, 1995 this time
I can probably look it up online, because I believe it was Easter weekend. I went to the Dallas Fantasy Fair, unattached and ready to spend a couple of days out of town, hanging out with friends Keith and Shannon, at promoter Larry Langford’s huge comic con. That weekend, I kept bumping into a girl named Jen, finding it odd that we kept winding up in the same places and in the guest suite at the same times. Could be it was entirely chance, although I wound up staying with Keith and Shannon for several days after the show, where I discovered I should have been paying more attention. Yep, big damn finger snap after missing that opp. Oh well, things worked out all right the next time I had a chance to hook up with a girl from Texas, but still… Yeah, that hindsight thing again. If only you could bottle that shit and have it around whenever you needed some.

9) May 17th, 1999
I’ve just moved to Florida, and my freaking car decides to give up the ghost. Been in town a week, don’t hardly know anybody, the move cost me a bundle, and I towed the fucking thing 1,600 miles only to have it die in rush hour traffic, leaving me stranded. My Dad helped me out with a down payment on an Isuzu Hombre (which Pam and I still have and which runs *great*), but right after I bought the truck, I had a shot to buy a motorcycle, cheap, from a guy in the complex where I was living. Later on, I would get another cycle (I had one briefly in NY), but I should have grabbed the bike, and got in some more riding time before the lights went out on me. I miss a lot of things I did when I was sighted, but playing ice hockey and riding a motorcycle are probably at the top of the list, 1-2. (Working for a porno company? A very, very close 3rd.)

10) September, 1992
Little fuzzy on the timetable, but this is close enough. I’m driving through New Jersey with Annie, my girlfriend at the time, and we come around a turn, heading to some restaurant we wanted to check out. (Well, more likely she wanted to check it out and I was going along for the ride, as it was a health food place). Out of the corner of my eye, I spot a FOR SALE sign in the windshield of a vehicle parked on the corner of a gas station. About fifteen seconds pass, then Annie and I look at one another and at the same time we each say, “Did you see that?” Yep, we had. And so I turned my Ford Taurus around, and we went back to inquire about the spiffy vehicle on the lot. A 1972 Cadillac Hearse. I’m talking old-school. Fender skirts, curtains, huge and black and about the length of a small yacht. We talk to the owner, and he shows off the inside. In the back? Two huge cabinet speakers on their sides provide a killer sound system. Thing runs like a charm. The guy wants a grand for it. I know what I have in my pocket, and what I can yank out on my ATM card. I offer him $900 in cash and tell him I can be back in ten minutes. We shake on it, and fifteen minutes later, Annie is driving my car back to her place and I am rolling through Lake Hopatcong in this monstrous old horror-movie vehicle. Loved that thing. Both of us did. We even used it to go camping at the NY Renaissance fair the following spring. What a trip *that* was. I wound up putting a futon mattress in the back, which turned the thing into a rolling camper. I once drove half the hockey team to a game in it. We looked quite the sight piling out of the deathmobile, that’s for sure. When I drove into the Village and there was no parking? I simply pulled up in front of a church in a red zone and left it. Nobody ever said Boo about it. On the highway with the lights on? People automatically changed lanes. Didn’t get much to the gallon, but boy, the extra bucks I spent on gas were well worth it.

11) March 1, 1984
Here’s a mistake I would go back and correct. In January, I’d sent in my entry form to take part in the Golden Gloves, the premiere amateur boxing competition in the country. They have Golden Gloves all over, but New York is considered the top of the line. In February, I got my confirmation in the mail, and the date for me to go into Brooklyn and get my physical. No sweat, right? Well, by March my Mom’s back was in really bad shape, and she went into traction for a couple of weeks. I decided not to go take the physical, thinking if I missed it, I’d just go back the following year. You know the rest. One thing happens, then another, then I’m in college, then I have a real job, and so on. I should’ve gone, and kept it a secret. Fought once, and if I won, quit undefeated, just to say I did it. Now if I want to box (and trust me, I do), I’ll have to find somebody equally crazy to get in the ring, because I don’t want to fight another blind guy. I’ve figured out a way to make fighting a sighted guy feasible. Maybe when we get the next film rolling and I’m up visiting my producer Joe in New York, we can set it up on Opie & Anthony. Hey, if I can sword fight with a martial arts expert, I can throw leather for three, six, or nine minutes, right?

Top 12 niceties at the Robert Byrd memorial service

editor — Wed, 30 Jun 2010 18:09:21 +0000

1) Invocation, led by Grand Imperial Wizard of the KKK.

2) Festivities kicked off with Lynchburg Lemonade toast.

3) That drunk Ted Kennedy not around to pinch granddaughters’ ass and make a fool of himself trying to pick up female wait staff.

4) Guide dogs banned, but tracking dogs ready for post-service rousting of local minorities. (Both of them.)

5) Cover band to perform, “The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down.”

6) Dinner. Coal-fired BBQ, served by burning-crosslight.

7) Posthumous award of James Earl Ray medal for outstanding service.

8) Hat-tip to racial diversity video: Salute to Darkies! (approx. 09 seconds.)

9) Interment down by the Ol’ Hangin’ Tree.

10) Close of ceremonies: performance of ‘Dueling Banjos’ from Deliverance.

11) Fireworks display, huge pork barrels rolled down grassy hillside.

12) Bonus! Extra sheets in every hotel room…