Saturday, March 31, 2007


What a fucking week! "Busy at work" would be an unfortunate understatement. Sent off my analysis of a major project at about 4:45PM yesterday (Friday), so it's time to relax a bit. Hopefully, I'll even get to enjoy a couple of adult beverages while watching college hoops later.

The Final Four used to be the ultimate sporting event for me. As I've aged, and the tournament dynamics have changed, I've found myself enjoying the first two rounds more. Well, that is except for CBS and their shitty coverage, which has only somewhat improved over the last 20 years. (Someone should pass a law that gives everything pre-Final Four back to ESPN. Can you imagine ESPN scheduling the 3rd round games (aka "Sweet 16") in overlapping time-slots? That's a rhetorical question.)

Whatever. I need some veg-out-on-my-ass time.


Wednesday, March 28, 2007

"Look! Tiger! Look!"

Emily (21 months old) is a big fan of going to the zoo, any zoo. In the past, her favorite animals were the penguins.

New favorite: Tigers!

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Monday, March 26, 2007

Now, Back to Massey Hall (Again)

SERIOUSLY, just go BUY the damned thing (if you haven't already). It's BEAUTIFUL!!!

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F*ck All Dis Sh*t

I like to cuss. My dad was (still is, actually) a big cusser. My friends and I all thought it was cool to cuss, starting around age 8 or 9. Along with farting, I'd say cussing is one of my longest standing amusements.

It's Monday morning. I need to get started on some serious "catch-up" at work. But, I thought I'd share a few of my favorites:

My current favorite to use around the house: Jee-zus H. titty-fuck Christ

Favorite from my college roommate, upon looking out the window and seeing a rather heavy snowfall on the morning of a final exam: Oh, my fucking, shitsucking God

Favorite oops-I-tried-to-stop-from-cussing by one of my very best friends down the street: God-fucking-darn it

Only thing I remember enjoying about Natural Born Killers: learning what the "H" stood for from the Tommy Lee Jones character: Jesus Harold Christ

Random cussing line from an old NWA song that just popped into my head: MC Ren is the muthafuckin' coroner/I'm gettin' rid of muthafuckas as if they was a foreigner

A quick Geto Boys classic: Somebody tell that country-ass hick/To go suck a dead man's dick

Finally, a special shout out to Richard Pryor for taking cussing to stratospheric comedic heights, and to "Frank" (Dennis Hopper) from Blue Velvet and "Gunnery Sgt. Hartman" (R. Lee Ermey) from Full Metal Jacket for breathing cinematic life into cussing.

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Friday, March 23, 2007

Mean Streets

A = Collinsville, IL
B = East St. Louis, IL


Wednesday, March 21, 2007

R.I.P. Larry "Bud" Melman

Man, this guy was involved in some funny shit back in the day.

May he rest in peace.

A Wheel In The Ditch

Please make sure to bread and fry that...Oh, wait. This is the Albertville/Boaz area of Alabama. EVERYTHING is breaded and deep-fried.
I wake up feeling like grease is oozing from every pore.
Alabama, you've got the rest of the Union/To help you along/What's going wrong?
Internet access is limited...perhaps I'll have more time soon.

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Friday, March 16, 2007

Now, Back to Massey Hall

OK, so I said I'd have more to say on the latest release from the NYAPS, Live At Massey Hall. However, I've been left all but speechless. It's PHENOMENAL! Now, of course, for more than a year I've had a beautiful sounding copy of the soundboard recording of Neil's late show from this very date (January 19, 1971). So, I've heard a lot of this before. But, this sounds even better, especially on the DVD. It truly feels like he's in the living room playing.

Plus, the DVD has film footage of all but 4 songs. Now, the footage does not appear to be from this date & venue. But, for the most part it matches up well enough, and it certainly enhances the experience. Some interesting extra features are present as well: notes, lyrics, newspaper articles, a couple extra videos, home movie footage (including the ranch hand who was the inspiration for "Old Man")...

This is seamlessly edited to sound like one show, and at 17 songs, it's a full set list. Wonderful. I haven't done a side-by-side comparison of the b**tleg to the new release, to see which songs are from the late show (and, by process of elimination, which ones must be from the early show). I doubt I will.

However, one song that must be from the early show is "Bad Fog of Loneliness" (which has never been officially released on an album, although it was on the Red Rocks Live DVD in 2000). On the b**tleg of the late show, Neil introduces it with a hilarious monologue along the lines of (I'm paraphrasing here): This is a song you're not likely to hear again, folks. You see, about once a month I have a meeting with my songs to decide which ones to record...This song wasn't even invited to the meeting. [Hilarious!]

But, on this release, he introduces it with a story about being scheduled/rescheduled to appear on The Johnny Cash Show. I haven't heard it enough yet to even attempt to paraphrase it, but it's pretty funny too. Most casual fans of Neil Young might not realize what a great sense of humor he has. But, many of the recordings of his concerts reveal hilarious lines/stories/jokes. It could be one of the more revealing aspects of this Archives "Performance Series" to many listeners.


PS - The best part might be that there is an insert containing this information (click here then look at the photo). PLEASE let it be true.

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Thursday, March 15, 2007

General Paces Peter to Musical Beat

Anonymous sources from deep in the bowels of military power in Washington, DC have informed HH that Gen. Peter Pace will play the lead role in an upcoming XXX musical remake of Patton. "It's a gay porn/musical hybrid. Very experimental as I understand," said one high-ranking official, speaking only with guarantees of anonymity. "It's a remarkable production. Big budget, particularly as gay porn goes."

Said a member of the general's ample staff, "He's perfect for the role! The General has shown an amazing aptitude for maintaining perfect pitch while taking a 12-inch cock in his ass. I don't think anyone else could play that part, and still sell the military-authority angle of the character."

Of course, the news was met with some shock and outrage from conservatives. Said Sen. Sam Browneye, "So much for the General's moral stand. Actions speak louder than words, and this is despicable. Further, I feel it is the worst type of revisionist history. Patton never sang."

For Hollywood, however, it's a natural fit. Said one executive producer of the project, "It's perfect. Most porn stars have to take fake names. With Peter Pace, well, that's just the perfect gay porn name already!"

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Wednesday, March 14, 2007


Thrasher posts that the latest release from NYAPS (Neil Young Archives Performance Series), Live at Massey Hall (aka Massey Hall 1971), is #1 on

Speaking of, I suppose they're in the clear now. After pre-ordering this thing the first week of February, and getting an email on March 8th that it had shipped, release date (yesterday) came and went with no delivery. A quick check of tracking info warned of a possible delivery date as late as the 20th!!! I considered the purchase of a handgun. But, then this evening, upon returning home from work, joy was achieved: my CD/DVD combo had arrived!

More on this tomorrow...

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R.E.M. Inducted Into RnR HoF

Of course, Ms. Coffey was there! So, for the rest of us, check out the replays here. Eddie Vedder did a fine job with the induction speech (not sure why anyone would think he wouldn't--he's always shown a great admiration for those who preceded/influenced him).

The performances were pretty decent, especially as these ceremonial things go.

"Gardening at Night" was really good. And, I loved the vocal trade-offs between Michael Stipe and Eddie Vedder during "Man on the Moon." But, the performance of the night was almost certainly Patti Smith's absolute belting out of "Gimme Shelter." WOW!

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History's Greatest Moustaches, Vol. IV

Groucho Marx, comedian/entertainer, maintained a matching set of moustache and eyebrows with such an odd combination of thickness and good grooming that they look fake. Incredibly fake. I think they just might have been fake.

In fact, his distinctive look inspired the most popular disguise of all time (see illustration borrowed from Grant Miller Media).

See the disguise? What a classic!

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Tuesday, March 13, 2007

History's Greatest Moustaches, Vol. III

Adolph Hitler sported this thick tuft of hair directly below the nose. His goal was world dominance and the eradication of all Jews. Instead, he basically just succeeded in ruining the name "Hitler" and this particular moustache trim for all future generations.

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Monday, March 12, 2007

History's Greatest Moustaches, Vol. II

Dr. Fu Manchu, evil genius of Chinese origin (fictional character).

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To Pre-Order From Amazon, or Not To Pre-Order From Amazon...

Remastered CD version of Warren Zevon's Excitable Boy is set for a March 27, 2007 release date.

1. Johnny Strikes Up The Band
2. Roland The Headless Thompson Gunner
3. Excitable Boy
4. Werewolves Of London
5. Accidentally Like A Martyr
6. Nighttime In The Switching Yard
7. Veracruz
8. Tenderness On The Block
9. Lawyers, Guns And Money
10. I Need A Truck (Outtake)
11. Werewolves Of London (Alternate version)
12. Tule's Blues (Solo Piano Version)
13. Frozen Notes (Strings Version)

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History's Greatest Moustaches, Vol. I

Saturday, March 10, 2007


I'd better start saving my pennies NOW!


Jeezus H Kryst, I think you've got a hard-on...


Thursday, March 08, 2007

Clearly, There's Too Much Election Coverage...

...way too soon.

This is what we're getting?!?!!

Obama paid off old parking tickets just prior to entering the race. Wow. What scandalous behavior!

Politically-oriented Lyric of the Day

"Does anyone need/
Yet another politician/
Caught with his pants down/
And money stickin' in his hole?"

--from "Strawman" by Lou Reed, 1988

Wednesday, March 07, 2007

Stream of Consciousness in Rock Lyrics

Listening to some Bob Dylan over the weekend reminded me yet again what an amazing artist he was/is. My mind quickly jumped to the stream-of-consciouness lyrics of "Subterranean Homesick Blues," and the imitations that song has spawned. It led me to this rather quickly assembled rundown of stream of consciousness lyrics in rock songs.

“Subterranean Homesick Blues” – Bob Dylan, 1965

Johnny's in the basement
Mixing up the medicine
I'm on the pavement
Thinking about the government
The man in the trench coat
Badge out, laid off
Says he's got a bad cough
Wants to get it paid off
Look out kid
It's somethin' you did
God knows when
But you're doin' it again
You better duck down the alley way
Lookin' for a new friend
The man in the coon-skin cap
In the big pen
Wants eleven dollar bills
You only got ten

Maggie comes fleet foot
Face full of black soot
Talkin' that the heat put
Plants in the bed but
The phone's tapped anyway
Maggie says that many say
They must bust in early May
Orders from the D. A.
Look out kid
Don't matter what you did
Walk on your tip toes
Don't try "No Doz"
Better stay away from those
That carry around a fire hose
Keep a clean nose
Watch the plain clothes
You don't need a weather man
To know which way the wind blows

Get sick, get well
Hang around a ink well
Ring bell, hard to tell
If anything is goin' to sell
Try hard, get barred
Get back, write braille
Get jailed, jump bail
Join the army, if you fail
Look out kid
You're gonna get hit
But users, cheaters
Six-time losers
Hang around the theaters
Girl by the whirlpool
Lookin' for a new fool
Don't follow leaders
Watch the parkin' meters

Ah get born, keep warm
Short pants, romance, learn to dance
Get dressed, get blessed
Try to be a success
Please her, please him, buy gifts
Don't steal, don't lift
Twenty years of schoolin'
And they put you on the day shift
Look out kid
They keep it all hid
Better jump down a manhole
Light yourself a candle
Don't wear sandals
Try to avoid the scandals
Don't wanna be a bum
You better chew gum
The pump don't work
'Cause the vandals took the handles

Haahnster Grades it an A+ for excellence, originality, and influence.

“Blinded by the Light” – Bruce Springsteen, 1972

Madman drummers bummers and Indians in the summer with a teenage diplomat
In the dumps with the mumps as the adolescent pumps his way into his hat
With a boulder on my shoulder feelin' kinda older I tripped the merry-go-round
With this very unpleasing sneezing and wheezing the calliope crashed to the ground
Some all-hot half-shot was headin' for the hot spot snappin' his fingers clappin' his hands
And some fleshpot mascot was tied into a lover's knot with a whatnot in her hand
And now young Scott with a slingshot finally found a tender spot and throws his lover in the sand
And some bloodshot forget-me-not whispers daddy's within earshot save the buckshot turn up the band

And she was blinded by the light
Cut loose like a deuce another runner in the night
Blinded by the light
She got down but she never got tight, but she'll make it alright

Some brimstone baritone anti-cyclone rolling stone preacher from the east
He says: "Dethrone the dictaphone, hit it in its funny bone, that's where they expect it least"
And some new-mown chaperone was standin' in the corner all alone watchin' the young girls dance
And some fresh-sown moonstone was messin' with his frozen zone to remind him of the feeling of romance

Yeah he was blinded by the light
Cut loose like a deuce another runner in the night
Blinded by the light
He got down but she never got tight, but he's gonna make it tonight

Some silicone sister with her manager's mister told me I got what it takes
She said I'll turn you on sonny, to something strong if you play that song with the funky break,
And go-cart Mozart was checkin' out the weather chart to see if it was safe to go outside
And little Early-Pearly came in by her curly-wurly and asked me if I needed a ride,
Oh, some hazard from Harvard was skunked on beer playin' backyard bombardier
Yes and Scotland Yard was trying hard, they sent a dude with a calling card,
he said, do what you like, but don't do it here
Well I jumped up, turnedaround, spit in the air, fell on the ground
Asked him which was the way back home
He said take a right at the light, keep goin' straight until night, and then boy, you're on your own

And now in Zanzibar a shootin' star was ridin' in a side car hummin' a lunar tune
Yes, and the avatar said blow the bar but first remove the cookie jar we're gonna teach those boys to laugh too soon

And some kidnapped handicap was complainin' that he caught the clap from some mousetrap he bought last night,

Well I unsnapped his skull cap and between his ears I saw
a gap but figured he'd be all right

He was just blinded by the light
Cut loose like a deuce another runner in the night
Blinded by the light
Mama always told me not to look into the sights of the sun
Oh but mama that's where the fun is

Haahnster grades it a C+ on a generous day. In fact, the best aspect of this song is the #1 hit version from 1977 released by Manfred Mann's Earth Band, and more specifically, the reworked lyric "Revved up like a deuce," which is slurred to sound as if it's "Wrapped up like a douche."
“It’s the End of the World as We Know It (And I Feel Fine)” – Berry/Buck/Mills/Stipe, 1987

That’s great, it starts with an earthquake, birds and snakes, an aeroplane -
Lenny Bruce is not afraid. Eye of a hurricane, listen to yourself churn -
world serves its own needs, don’t misserve your own needs. Feed it up a knock,
speed, grunt no, strength no. Ladder structure clatter with fear of height,
down height. Wire in a fire, represent the seven games in a government for
hire and a combat site. Left her, wasn’t coming in a hurry with the furies
breathing down your neck. Team by team reporters baffled, trump, tethered
crop. Look at that low plane! Fine then. Uh oh, overflow, population,
common group, but it’ll do. Save yourself, serve yourself. World serves its
own needs, listen to your heart bleed. Tell me with the rapture and the
reverent in the right - right. You vitriolic, patriotic, slam, fight, bright
light, feeling pretty psyched.

It’s the end of the world as we know it.
It’s the end of the world as we know it.
It’s the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine.

Six o’clock - TV hour. Don’t get caught in foreign tower. Slash and burn,
return, listen to yourself churn. Lock him in uniform and book burning,
blood letting. Every motive escalate. Automotive incinerate. Light a candle,
light a motive. Step down, step down. Watch a heel crush, crush. Uh oh,
this means no fear - cavalier. Renegade and steer clear! A tournament,
a tournament, a tournament of lies. Offer me solutions, offer me alternatives
and I decline.

It’s the end of the world as we know it.
It’s the end of the world as we know it.
It’s the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine.

The other night I tripped a nice continental drift divide. Mountains sit in a line.
Leonard Bernstein. Leonid Breshnev, Lenny Bruce and Lester Bangs.
Birthday party, cheesecake, jelly bean, boom! You symbiotic, patriotic,
slam, but neck, right? Right.

It’s the end of the world as we know it.
It’s the end of the world as we know it.
It’s the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine...fine...

Haahnster grades it an A+ for excellence in every aspect of songwriting, performance, and recording. It challenges Dylan's "Subterranean Homesick Blues" as the master work of this sub-genre. Objectively speaking, this is almost certainly better, although it's hard to overlook that it probably wouldn't have existed without the prior existence of Dylan's song. Ironically, as a single, it charted at only #69 (hee, hee...I said "69"), the worst showing of this bunch, except for Springsteen's, which failed to chart as a single (although, as previously mentioned, there was a cover version that hit #1). Heck, even Dylan's single scratched the Top 40 (at #39)! In fairness, though, by its 1988 release as a single, the Document album itself was already a pretty big seller. Plus, the public, especially the hit-single-buying public, gets it wrong quite a lot.


“We Didn’t Start the Fire” – Billy Joel, 1989

Harry Truman, Doris Day, Red China, Johnnie Ray
South Pacific, Walter Winchell, Joe DiMaggio

Joe McCarthy, Richard Nixon, Studebaker, Television
North Korea, South Korea, Marilyn Monroe

Rosenbergs, H-bomb, Sugar Ray, Panmunjom,
Brando, "The King and I" and The Catcher In The Rye

Eisenhower, Vaccine, England's got a new Queen
Marciano, Liberace, Santayana goodbye

We didn't start the fire
It was always burning
Since the world's been turning
We didn't start the fire
No we didn't light it
But we tried to fight it

Joseph Stalin, Malenkov, Nasser, Prokofiev
Rockefeller, Campanella, Communist Bloc

Roy Cohn, Juan Peron, Toscanini, Dacron
Dien Bien Phu falls, Rock Around The Clock

Einstein, James Dean, Brooklyn's got a winning team
Davy Crockett, Peter Pan, Elvis Presley, Disneyland

Bardot, Budapest, Alabama, Krushchev
Princess Grace, "Peyton Place", trouble in the Suez

We didn't start the fire
It was always burning
Since the world's been turning
We didn't start the fire
No we didn't light it
But we tried to fight it

Little Rock, Pasternak, Mickey Mantle, Kerouac
Sputnik, Chou En-Lai, Bridge on the River Kwai

Lebanon, Charles de Gaulle, California baseball
Starkweather homicide, children of Thalidomide

Buddy Holly, "Ben Hur", space monkey, Mafia
Hula Hoops, Castro, Edsel is a no-go

U-2, Syngman Rhee, Payola and Kennedy
Chubby Checker, "Psycho", Belgians in the Congo

We didn't start the fire
It was always burning
Since the world's been turning
We didn't start the fire
No we didn't light it
But we tried to fight it

Hemingway, Eichmann, "Stranger in a Strange Land"
Dylan, Berlin, Bay of Pigs invasion

"Lawrence of Arabia", British Beatlemania
Ole Miss, John Glenn, Liston beats Patterson

Pope Paul, Malcolm X, British politician sex
J.F.K. blown away, what else do I have to say

We didn't start the fire
It was always burning
Since the world's been turning
We didn't start the fire
No we didn't light it
But we tried to fight it

Birth control, Ho Chi Minh, Richard Nixon back again
Moonshot, Woodstock, Watergate, Punk Rock

Begin, Reagan, Palestine, terror on the airline
Ayatollah's in Iran, Russians in Afghanistan

"Wheel of Fortune", Sally Ride, Heavy Metal, Suicide
Foreign debts, Homeless Vets, AIDS, Crack, Bernie Goetz

Hypodermics on the shores, China's under martial law
Rock and Roller Cola Wars, I can't take it anymore

We didn't start the fire
It was always burning
Since the world's been turning
We didn't start the fire
No we didn't light it
But we tried to fight it

We didn't start the fire
But when we are gone

Will it still burn on, and on, and on, and on...

Haahnster grades it a D. This is Billy Joel's pouting, whiny apology for the shortcomings of the Baby Boomer generation. It's written as a (mostly) chronological series of names, places, and events from the year of Billy's birth (1949) through the year the song was recorded (1989). Big freakin' deal. So, obviously, it was a #1 hit single. Ironic, ain't it?!?

One other I should probably mention, though I don't think it quite fits*:

"I Am the Walrus" – John Lennon (credited as Lennon/McCartney, of course), 1967

I am he as you are he as you are me and we are all together,
See how they run like pigs from a gun see how they fly, I'm crying , sitting on a cornflake, waiting for the van to come
Corporation T-shirt, stupid bloody Tuesday, man you've been a naughty boy you let your face grow long
I am the eggman, they are the eggmen, I am the walrus, goo goo g' joob

Mister city policeman sitting pretty little policemen in a row,
See how they fly like Lucy in the sky see how they run, I'm crying, I'm crying, I'm crying, I'm crying
Yellow matter custard, dripping from a dead dog's eye, crabalocker fishwife, pornographic priestess
Boy, you've been a naughty girl, you let your knickers down
I am the eggman, they are the eggmen, I am the walrus, goo goo g' joob

Sitting in an English garden waiting for the sun, If the sun don't come you get a tan from standing in the English rain
I am the eggman, they are the eggmen, I am the walrus, goo goo g' joob, goo goo'g joob

Expert, texpert choking smokers don't you think the joker laughs at you
See how they smile like pigs in a sty see how they snide, I'm crying, semolina pilchard, climbing up the Eiffel tower
Elementary penguin singing Hare Krishna, man you should have seen them kicking Edgar Allan Poe
I am the eggman, they are the eggmen, I am the walrus, goo goo g' joob
Goo goo g' joob, Goo goo g' goo, goo goo g' joob goo, juba juba juba, juba juba juba juba juba juba juba, juba, juba

Haahnster grades it an A. I've always loved that song. [* Note: The reason "I don't think it quite fits" is it's more a psychedelic, acid-trip experiment than a stream of consciousness. I.e. it's more a descendant of "Bob Dylan's 115th Dream" with it's trippy imagery, and non sequiturs. See also Cream's "Tales of Brave Ulysses" for one of many other examples. Honestly, "Blinded by the Light" might cross this line, too. It's a blurry line, but I'm the decider here.]

So, what did I miss?

UPDATE: As soon as I clicked "PUBLISH," I realized I had overlooked an obvious one: "Mediate" by INXS (1987). The song (and video) were tacked on to the end of their mega-hit "Need You Tonight." Heck, the video even had the cue card thing going, a la "Subterranean Homesick Blues." I'll look for the lyrics to print here. I do remember an awkward couplet along the lines of "Try not to hate/Don't suffocate on your own hate." Musically, I'm remembering it being fairly sparse...I should listen to it again (it's been years). But, on the spot, I'll give it a C.

ANOTHER UPDATE: Before my brother accuses me of being a "rockist," I'd better make a mention of rap music, much of which incorporates varying degrees of stream of consciousness in the lyrics. One song that I think clearly fits this category is Public Enemy's "Cold Lampin' With Flavor":

I'm lampin, I'm lampin, I'm cole cole lampin
I got loowies boy, I'm not trampin
I just came from Da-crib ya know
I'm on da go-throw ya tank into metro
Live lyrics from the bank of reality
I kick da flyest dope maneuver technicality
To a dope track, you wanna hike git out ya backpack
I'm in my Flav-mobile cole lampin
I took dis g upstate cole campin
Ta da poke-a-nose, we call da hide-a-ways
A pack of franks and a big bag of Frito Lays

Flavor-Flav on a hype tip
I'm ya hype drink, come take a big sip
I'm in position, you can't play me out da pocket
I'll take da dopest beat yougot and I'll rock-it
Like chocolate, even vanilla - chocolate, strawberry, saperella
Flavors are electric - try me - get a shock-a
Didn't I tell you to leave Flavor Flav alone knock-a
A clock on my chest proves I don't fess
I'm a clock-a, rock-a rockin' wit-da-rest
Flavor in da house by Chuck-D's side
Chuck got da Flavor-Flav don't hide
P.E. crazy, Crazy P.E. - makin' crazy loowies for the shoppin spree

Ya eatin death cause ya like gittin dirt from da graveyard - ya put gravy on it
Den ya pick ya teeth with tomb stone chips
And casket cover clips - dead women hips ya do da bump with - bones
Nutin but love bones
Lifestyles of the Live-en-dead
First ya live den ya dead - died trying ta clock what I said
Now I got a murder rap cause I bust ya cap with Flavor - pure Flavor
We got Magnum Brown, Shoothki - Valoothki
You could put dat in ya don't know what I said book
Shinavative ill factors by da Flavor Flav
Come an ride da Flavor wave
In any year on any givin day
What a brova know - what do Flavor say
Why do dis record play dat way
Prime time merrily in da day
Right now dis radio station is busy - brainknowledgeably wizzy
Honey drippers, you say you got it
You ain't got no flavor and I can prove it
Flavor Flav the flav all of flavors
Onion an garlic french fried potatas
Make ya breath stink, breath fire
Makes any onion da best crier

I know it sounds crazy but it fits perfect
Peter perfect pimped a perfect Peter
Honey dripper - sucker sipper - big dipper - sucker dipper
Drippin suckers like its goin out-a-style
Creatin flavors for da Flavor Flav pile
Lampin booyee madina style

Kickin da flavor gittin busy
Ya goin ouut, I think ya dizzy
I think ya hungry, cause ya starvin fa Flavor
Flavor most, put it on toast
Eat it-en taste it en swallow it down
Imperial Flavor gives you da crown
Of the king called Flavor, da king of all flavors
Rolls an rolls an rolls life savers
Flavor Flav is in everything ya eat cause everything ya eat got flavor
Flavor Flav is da first taste ya git in da mornin - ya breakfast is da flavor
In between dat ta lunch - in between dat dinner - in between dat ta midnight flavor
Yeah, das right I got somethin fa all da fandangoes of damangoes of da fandangoes of da mangoes

Haahnster grades it an A-, even though no claim can be made to understanding large chunks of it. I got the lyrics from the P.E. website. They're obviously phonetic in spelling (I changed "Um" to "I'm" in several places, but did no other editing). The song has an incredibly catchy beat, and great "Bomb Squad" production. Man, I just love It Takes A Nation Of Millions To Hold Us Back!

Tuesday, March 06, 2007

6 Weird Things About Me

I've been tagged by Beth. So, here it goes...

1. I am color blind...I think. This I know for certain: I struggle to identify colors. It's not like the world is a black & white TV. I don't see just shades of gray. The world is a multi-colored rainbow. I just can't distinguish/identify much beyond the boldest primary colors. For example, I have trouble with certain shades of green and blue, or of green and brown, or of red and orange, or yellow and orange, or pink and red, or purple and blue, get the idea. I'm looking at my computer screen as I type this, and near the bottom left corner are "buttons" that say "SAVE AS DRAFT" and "PUBLISH." I really don't know what color either one is.

So, I'd say it's a form of color blindness, or maybe my mom just never bought me a big enough crayon box.

2. I hate people. Or, rather, I really dislike their ways. I assume that the general public is quite stupid, as manifested by their poor driving skills, the disproportionate number of top-rated TV shows that are horrid cliches, and the continued success of Rush Limbaugh. I would rather sit on the couch alone drinking beer (see #3 below) than venture out of the house. This one truly defies logic, because my nearly 37 years on this Earth have taught me that most people (and I mean the vast majority) that I actually meet and get to know, even casually, I will like. In fact, a good number I will like quite a lot. However, I still enter into every potential encounter with anyone I've never met assuming that I will not like them. Weird, isn't it?

3. I drink alone (yeah, with nobody else/And when I drink alone, I prefer to be by myself). This one has some roots in practicality. I was pulled over for DUI on New Year's Eve 1986, or rather very early New Year's Day 1987. I was 16. I'd love to say it made an impression, and I suppose it did. It was several years before I drove that drunk again. In any event, now, 20 years later, I am pretty steadfast in my avoidance of drinking and driving. Plus, I don't like to go places where I might meet new people (which is damn near all places). But, the overwhelming desire to undertake a massive drinking binge strikes me at least 3 to 5 times per year. So, I'll suck down 17 beers or so in about 2 or 3 hours, listening to old tunes, gradually removing articles of clothing, and eventually passing out on the couch. [Note: Songs that are often heard during drinky time, but rarely when sober, include "Time" by Hootie & The Blowfish, "A Long December" by Counting Crows, and "Good Friday" by the Black Crowes.]

4. I've never seen an episode of American Idol. Not interested. In this specific case, probably it's due to how the show's been described to me by others. I'm not interested in the cookie-cutter-like construction of a hit singer, nor am I interested in the standard definition of "good singing." I've always valued gut feel over technique, many of my favorite musical artists having, shall we say, unconventional voices. But, I've also had a long-standing policy of shying away from the "latest big thing." For example, I never watched an episode of Friends either, or Saved by the Bell in its day, or Beverly Hills 90210, etc. Now, I'll admit that Seinfeld was huge for several seasons. But, I was watching it from the beginning while it was still getting its butt kicked in the Wednesday night ratings by Tim Allen's goofy Tool Time show or whatever the hell that was called. Mainly, I've never been that avid a TV watcher. I'm just weird that way, I suppose.

5. I must have some (at least mild) form of OCD. I'm not quite Jack Nicholson's character in As Good As It Gets. However, I do have some strange tendencies. It takes me forever to pay bills, as I get caught in a seemingly endless loop of checking the account number I've written on the memo line of the check against the account number printed on the statement, back and forth, back and forth. Then, I'll check that I've transferred the details of the check to the check register (check number, date, payee, amount)--was there a comma before "Inc."? Getting the envelope stuffed and sealed is an entire adventure in and of itself. I signed the check, right? Is that address properly showing through the envelope's window? Yes, OK, here we go--oh, wait, once it's sealed, it's too late. Let me check one more time to make sure I signed the check. The account number is on there, right?

And, showers, fuggetaboutit...I've come up with a strict, well-choreographed routine that ensures that all appropriate washing occurs, without being caught in an endless loop of Did I wash my left armpit yet? etc. Unfortunately, some mornings I'm too tired, practically sleepwalking into the shower. I'll realize at some point that I'm off my routine, and then panic hits. My mind begins to race. I usually have to pause, take a deep breath, and start the routine from the beginning. It's better than getting caught in the endless loop of Did I? or Didn't I?

As for brushing my teeth, it can be a marathon. Oh, and hey, everyone who uses deodorant in stick form ("Speedstick" for me) counts the exact number of strokes under each armpit as they apply the deodorant, right?

6. Sometimes I shave my balls. I haven't done that in a long time. I think I might do that again real soon.

Saturday, March 03, 2007

Delta Delta Delta...

...couldn't help ya, help ya, help ya.

We (the goofball consultant and I) worked back-to-back 14 hour days on Monday & Tuesday, just to ensure getting out by 5:00 PM on Wednesday. We were successful. I hit the back roads of rural, western South Carolina at 4:50 PM, and pointed the rental car (2006 Ford Taurus--for us--it's an American car--I remember that slogan) towards ATL.

Due to a series of unfortunate events, namely the striking ability of coffee to spur my bladder into overdrive, causing an otherwise unnecessary stop at a rest area on I-20, I arrived at the vicinity of the Atlanta airport at 8:00 PM. No chance of returning the rental car, taking the shuttle to the airport terminal, clearing security, and attempting stand-by for an 8:20 chance at all. So, it was straight to the Marriott: park, check in, and collapse in Room 111.

Thursday, I awoke at 4:45 AM, showered, dressed, and double-checked the room for any remaining unpacked possessions. Checked out, filled up the gas tank on the rental (Taurus--for us--it's an American car), filled up my "gas tank" at Waffle House, and had the rental car (Taurus--for us--it's an American car) dropped off by 6:15 AM.

Things continued with smashing success as I was shuttled almost immediately over to the terminal, checked right in and handed my boarding pass, cleared security without a hitch (I'd remembered to pack my "BUSH SUCKS" t-shirt, as opposed to wearing it), and worked my way to Gate Ctwentysomething before 7:00 AM. My flight was scheduled for a 9:18 AM departure. Life was grand.

Three delays of "estimated departure time" (to 10:08, 10:43, and 11:44, respectively) and two gate changes later, my flight was canceled "due to lightning strike." It was 11:15 AM. I was directed to go to the Delta phone bank at C24 (I think it was C24), and get my rescheduling processed. I was placed on standby for the next available direct flight at 2:43 PM. I had lunch at the airport Chili's.

The 2:43 PM flight underwent 3 gate changes, but was only delayed until 3:00 PM. Oh, on the downside, they were "unable to accommodate" standbys. Those motherfuckers. Back to the phone bank--I was now scheduled for the next available flight, then showing as an 8:43 PM departure. I was promised that I had a seat assignment (seat 10B to be precise). Now, it was just a matter of avoiding those dastardly lightning strikes.

No gate changes for the 8:43 PM flight!!! However, there were plenty of delays: 9:20, 10:11, 10:25. They finally boarded us at 10:30 PM. Then we sat...and sat...and then finally backed out...and sat...and then moved forward about 20 feet then stopped...and sat. The pilot was kind enough to finally offer the following explanation: "Folks, this is your captain speaking." That part always reminds me of the old Grand Funk Railroad song (I'm your captain, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah...). "Very sorry about the delay, but we're working our way up one of two main approaches to this runway for take-off. Counting lights, I'd say we're behind about 20 to 25 planes. Air traffic has slowed things down to one take-off every 2 or 3 minutes. I suppose you can do the math on that, and say we have another 45 minutes to an hour before take-off." Gasps of shock, horror and/or indignation were clearly audible throughout the cabin. The captain continued, "Not sure why they've slowed things down. Most of the severe weather has moved south and east of here. All the planes on this side of the airport are headed north and west. Totally out of our hands, though." Gee, I guess storming the cockpit is out. Actually, I didn't even think that. I just this very minute had an irresistible urge to type "cockpit."

The lady next to me said, snottily, "This flight was supposed to take-off at 8:43." Mentally, I bitch slapped her with my I've-been-in-the-airport-for-16-hours, exhausted and limp dick. In reality, I forced a polite grin and nod (perhaps a slight grunt of solidarity). I prayed for some leftover Waffle House gas with which to anoint her all-too-entitled nostrils. Alas, none was forthcoming.

Eventually, we did take off, and the flight was uneventful enough to allow for some Haahnster cat naps. The approach to our final destination was somewhat adventurous, however. The wind was so strong that upon final descent, we were buffeted about like my aforementioned limp dick during the running of a nude marathon. Ms. Entitled, seated next to me, screamed, "What's the deal?!" The fear of an inevitable crash and subsequent exploding ball of flames was palpable. My thoughts were "just land or crash, but for chrissakes, don't divert."