Thursday, January 31, 2008

I've invented nothing -- nothing!!

Scratch that last post. Whatever that word was, someone else already invented it. This is just like the time I invented the hang glider, only to find out that someone had already invented it.

And I don't even want to talk about the time I invented the diesel engine, though the irony of me learning that I was driving a diesel-powered truck while I was 'inventing' the diesel engine was not lost on me. Not lost on me...that reminds me of a song, so let's add that song to the list. The song is 'Waiting For The Sun' by the almighty Jayhawks. That will be song #211. For song #212, let's go with Lyle Lovett's 'That's Right (you're not from Texas), off his Live From Texas album. And off that same record, let's go with 'If I Had a Boat' for song #213. For song #214, let's go with Todd Rundgren's 'Hello, it's me.' I'll have to write a post about Todd Rundgren sometime. But it won't be today. Oh, and for song #215, how about 'In a Big Country' by Big Country? That's a damn fine song. 'I'm not expecting to grow flowers in the desert, but I can live and breathe and see the sun in winterti-me.'

That lyric seems kind of timely to me.

And now, finally, the tale of The Moriarty Whisker. As I mentioned a couple of days ago, The Moriarty Whisker is my nemesis. He is, to me, what Dr. Moriarty was to Sherlock Holmes. Only The Moriarty Whisker is not a practicing M.D., nor is he a criminal mastermind. No, The Moriarty Whisker is just that: a whisker. It is a colorless whisker for the most part, though it is capable of turning quite dark in the right light. It can also turn completely invisible, and that's true for a fact. I've seen it go from invisible to visible many, many times.

The Moriarty Whisker is located approximately 3 cm north of the mustache in my goatee. It occupies a lonely territory on my face where no other whisker has dared follow. Since noticing this whisker back in the early part of this century, I've taken steps to make sure it gets shaved each time I shave. However, The Moriarty Whisker is resourceful. Many time when you think you've nicked him, he will appear to ruin your day. For instance, I'll step into the bathroom at a fancy party, glance into the mirror and exclaim, 'Moriarty? It can't be!! I killed you!' I tend to get a lot of strange looks when I leave the bathroom at parties. People always look at me and then look behind me to see who I was talking to. There's no one there, of course. The culprit is always right there, though, hiding in plain sight.

So that's the sad story of The Moriarty Whisker. Though I have not seen him recently, you can bet he will re-emerge. And when he does, I'll be waiting for him, cold razor in hand.

I think I really need to see Sweeney Todd. There are some valuable lessons I might learn from that film.

Tuesday, January 29, 2008

The Case of the Silver Whisker

First, some old business. The song for today, #209, is 'Naive Melody' by Talking Heads. I'm not sure, but this might have been the song where all the members of the bands switched instruments. I always like stuff like that. Anyway, I'm choosing it because I love the band and that song is among the most haunting I've ever heard. There was one year in my life where I played that song about six times daily. It's almost perfect, I think. Meditative, strange, singular. There's only one song I can think of that's more haunting, and that's 'A Day in the Life' by the Beatles. So let's make that song #210 while we're at it. Yeah, let's do that.

Alright, that brings us up to the present. I've observed recently a silver whisker in the mustache part of my goatee. I've had and have many gray whiskers in the lower half of my goatee, but this is the enemy's first foray into the northern quadrant of my goatee. I'm not sure how I feel about this. I don't mind getting older. In fact, I'm down with that. But the physical manifestations...this I'm a little uneasy about. I keep hoping the darker whiskers will take this straggler out back and teach him some manners. But I have my doubts that will happen. If anything, this foreign agent will likely turn my darker whiskers into double agents, and before too long I'll look in the mirror and see Wilford Brimley looking back at me. I'm down with that, too, I'd just like it to be a few years from now, not an overnight process. Just in case, though, I've been looking at myself in the mirror recently and practicing Mr. Brimley's most famous line:

'We won't get old, and we won't ever die.'

That's from the movie Cocoon, of course. It was about some old people who didn't want to die so they hitched a ride on a spaceship and left this little shooting match of ours behind. It also starred Steve Guttenberg. The 80's, man. It was one wild time.

Anyway, that's what's going on with me today. All this talk about whiskers makes me think of my old nemesis, The Moriarty Whisker. But if I write about that today, what will I write about tomorrow?

I don't think you want to know.

Until then, compadres, keep it at least partially real.

Monday, January 28, 2008

gossip girl

I shouldn't tell you this, but I was talking to Helen Gurkelbee today. She lives down the street from me. Anyway, she was saying that the Wilson boy, who lives up the road from us, is raising holy hell with his parents. Apparently, he's breaking curfew regularly and he's listening to that rock music. Helen also said his grades are suffering, too, though she has no tangible proof of that. But I know Helen Gurkelbee quite well indeed and she wouldn't say anything like that if there weren't some basis in fact. Frankly, it wouldn't shock me a bit. Breaking curfew, listening to rock could his grades not suffer?

Well, I've probably said too much already.

You didn't hear this from me.

Sunday, January 27, 2008

the stone barracudas

We're moving closer to Groundhog's Day, and I regret to announce that this year, unlike the last 10 years, I will not be donning a groundhog's suit to celebrate. Nor will I be digging, by hand, a four-foot deep trench in the tundra from which to pop out of at the anointed time. And I definitely will not be doing 'The Humpty Dance' should I happen to look down and fail to see my shadow upon popping out of said trench.

I think I've grown up, folks. Though all of the above sounds like great fun to me, I do believe that part of my life is over. How it get started in the first place, I don't know. You'd think I would have learned to avoid nonsense such as this after high school and the 'stone barracuda incident.'

It happened during my sophomore year. Being a huge booster of high school sports in general, I decided I would make the best costume ever to celebrate my school's teams. I chose the boys basketball team's season-opener to unveil my design. I worked on this costume for months, starting on it the last day of ninth-grade. I worked on it all summer and into the fall.

Finally, the big day came. I donned my outfit and trotted off to my high school gymnasium at a brisk pace. I was greeted by a good friend at the door and he gave me this look like I was crazy.

"What the hell kind of outfit is that?" he asked.

I looked down at myself proudly, stretched out my arms and the gray papier-mache dorsal fins covering them and said, "My friend, are we or are we not 'The Stone Barracudas?' "

"We're not," he said.

"Oh," I said.

From there, let's just say it was a long night, which went on to turn into an extremely long year.

I still say we should have called ourselves The Stone Barracudas.

Saturday, January 26, 2008

Some Might Say

'Some might say sunshine follows thunder/go and tell it to the man who cannot shine.'
-Oasis, 'Some Might Say.'

That's the song for the day -- 'Some Might Say.' #200-something, if my figures are accurate. It's not a classic, but I've always liked it.

I don't have a lot of time today, but I do have a grievance to air. Here's that grievance: Darryl Hall and John Oates are NOT in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Is that fair? Is this wise? My answers to those questions are 'no' and 'of course not,' respectively. Darryl Hall and John Oates were very big back in the 80's. They were a precursor to bands like Bon Jovi and Nickelback (wait a minute, maybe Darryl Hall and John Oates SHOULDN'T be in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame)...

No, no, scratch that. They totally should be in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. They were huge back in the day -- bigger than Miami Vice! They had a lot of Top Ten Singles, a handful of #1 hits and they were very influential. Their music might not hold up as spectacularly as some music does, but they were a bridge from where we were to where we are. A necessary connection.

A few years ago I was watching a show on rappers and quite a few of them marvelled at the opening hook of 'I Can't Go For That (No Can Do).' So they're getting some love from rappers. If they were complete and total wankers would that be happening? Of course not.

No, I'll tell you the reason Darryl Hall and John Oates are not in the Hall of Fame. It's not pretty and I don't feel good about being the first one to say this, but the reason Darryl Hall and John Oates are not in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame is none other than...John Oates's mustache.

That's it, plain and simple. If they were just two fresh-faced, clean-cheeked rockers, they'd be living large in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame right this very minute. Instead, only one of them is clean-shaven and that's why they have to buy tickets to get into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame just like everyone else.

Is that fair, I ask you? No. It's not fair. They're going to keep out a well-established band with a pretty solid track record just because half of this dynamic duo has a thing for cheesy mustaches? So it would seem. Well, I'm sorry, but I can't go for that.

No can do.

Monday, January 21, 2008

couldn't quite identify it

'I'm in the sky tonight.'
- Foo Fighters, 'Next Year.'

When we left off, I mentioned that I have seen a UFO in my lifetime. That's true, although perhaps it would be more accurate to say I have a memory of seeing a UFO. And by that, I mean I recall once seeing an object in the sky which I could not identify. That's all it means and nothing more.

I'm not haunted by this. In fact, I'm largely indifferent to the whole UFO phenomenon. I'm not convinced UFO's exist and I'm not convinced they don't. If you were to ask me if I believe in UFO's, I would say yes, absolutely. But that's it. I don't wear a tin foil hat (except out to dinner), I don't go to Area 51 on my vacations and I think The X-Files was a good show to begin with and then fairly quickly became overrated. In other words, I'm not crazy.

Here's my story (or the story as I remember it). It was a fall night -- dark -- and my brother and a friend were in our backyard playing football. I was probably about 8 years old. We were waiting for my dad so he could drive us to the high school football game, or somewhere. We were going somewhere. Anyway, I think we had stopped playing football and perhaps my brother and our friend had gone inside -- though they were possibly still with me in the backyard. At any rate, I (we) looked up and there was something large in the sky and it looked a lot like an air hockey paddle. It was stationary and loomed just a bit off in the distance. There were electronic lights all around the round bottom edge of it and it hovered just the tiniest bit off-kilter.

That's it. I don't remember what happened next. I don't remember if it flew away (though it must have) and I don't remember if any of us even said anything about it other than 'What the heck was that?' It was more puzzling than disturbing, but still kind of disturbing. We were kids, after all, and kids want to know -- and understand -- everything. That was something we (I) couldn't understand.

Two things: 1) I really can't guarantee my brother and that friend of ours were there when whatever was in the sky was in the sky. They were there to start with, but I can't say they were there to see whatever there might have been to see. 2) Though I believe this happened, I can't say for a fact that it did. I'd swear that the crux of the memory is accurate, but so many details are lost or fuzzy it's very possible I just imagined or made the whole thing up.

So I guess that's my UFO story. As UFO stories go, it's not much to write home about. Like I said, I'm not haunted by this at all and I don't think about it that much. If there are UFO's and spacepeople inside of them careening wildly over our heads, it's clear they don't want to play bridge or canasta with us and I can't say I blame them. In fact, I'd say they have the right idea. Ours is a dangerous world.

(Even so, would one lousy game of bridge kill them?!)

Song #206 -- 'Next Year' by the Foo Fighters.

Sunday, January 20, 2008

well, I'm back

'There's a UFO over New York, and I ain't too surprised.'
-John Lennon, 'Nobody Told Me.'

Well, I'm back and semi-refreshed from my mini-vacation. My thanks again to the very capable Blackcrag for filling in for me and raising the bar up from the floor, where it had come to rest -- and for directing me back to my quest to come up with 500 songs that don't suck, songs I myself would be proud to play if I were to own my own radio station.

So with that in mind, I pick up the baton again and give you the songs for today. Song #203 -- John Lennon's 'Nobody Told Me.' I've always liked this song, and I've always thought it was a pretty good response to song #204 -- Van Morrison's 'Days Like This.' (My Mama Told Me). They make kind of a nice point/counterpoint. Stuff like that always interests me. Like how in The Beatles' 'It's Getting Better,'as Paul McCartney is singing, 'I have to admit it's getting better, it's getting better all the time,' John Lennon pipes in, 'It couldn't get no worse.' I like it when all the bases get covered.

For good measure, song #205 is the Pretenders' 'Don't Get Me Wrong,' which contains one of my favorite lyrics of all-time: 'I might be great tomorrow/but hopeless yesterday.' No, you cannot go too wrong with Ms. Hynde and The Pretenders.

Back to the more far more serious subject of UFO's. Apparently, John Lennon SAW a UFO over NYC (in retrospect, I think capitalizing 'saw' in this sentence MAY have been overkill) back in the 70's. That's very interesting to me and also where I think I need to go with my next post. I'd be curious to know how many of you have seen UFO's in your life. I'd also be curious to know how many people think I've seen a UFO in my life.

Here's a hint: I have.

Friday, January 18, 2008

Rock is dead! Long live Rock!

Editor's note: Alright, everyone, pay attention. The post below was penned (typed? tapped out?) by a guest poster. A fellow blogger who goes by the name Blackcrag. If you'd like to read more of his writings, by all means, hit that little link to the right of my blogpage, the one that says 'Blackcrag.' You will be transported instantly northwards to Canada. That's right! The flag he flies under bears a Maple Leaf!! (that's right, isn't it Crag?).

At any rate, I really enjoy his writing and point of view. And Lord knows, you all could use a break from me, so I asked him to write about anything he liked and I would re-print it verbatim (including the subject line). Which I have now done.

Enjoy your vacation, everybody. I promise it won't last near long enough. Take it away, Blackcrag!

Dan wanted to douse his blog in a little maple syrup, having got his pancakes and his blog confused. So he offered a little space to me. It is quite an honour and a responsibility to write for someone else’s blog… you know keeping up their exacting standards and all. Some might question whether Dan actually has standards, but I am sure he does… somewhere.

Dan and I share an interest in music. He’s making a list of 500 songs he either loves, can’t live without, really, really likes, or well, can kind of tolerate (see? There’s those standards at work again).

Me, I am just looking for some new music to listen to, because I seriously think rock is dead. Given that I was a teen during the Eighties, my most cherished music has its roots there; Dave Matthews Band, Blue Rodeo, Blues Traveller, Bob Seger, Heart… I could go on. I tend to go on usually, but I will show a guest’s manners and forbear.

I know, Dave Matthews hardly strikes anyone as a hard rockin’, wailin’ guitarin’, big hairy Eighties rock band. What can I say? I have a strong pop streak running through my musical taste—blame it on the three years I spent in England as a preteen.

But the state of rock these days? Who’s carrying the banner and waving their bic in the darkened arena? (a bic is a lighter brand up north of the border, if you wanted to know). Collective Soul? Like ‘em, but they have drifted from their rock roots. Counting Crows? They can rock, when they’re not being all introspective and angsty. Nickelback? If you think unshaven posers are 'rock', sure. Matchbox Twenty? They are consistent, at least. Solid band, certainly. But are they ‘rock’? As close as anybody these days, I guess. Red Hot Chili Peppers? Certainly, but again, they’ve been around since the Eighties/Nineties so don’t qualify as ‘new’.

I turn to the radio for inspiration, for new sounds, a little new music to titillate the taste buds, or whatever the ear’s equivalent to the taste buds are. But what is on the airwaves? Electronica? Doesn’t charge me up. Gangsta rap? Umm…yeah but no. Dance? Despite my handle, I’m white. White men don’t dance. Not this one, and definitely not like that.

But wait! If I want to discover new music, all I have to do is turn on the TV! There have been a slew of shows over the last ten years all about ‘discovering talent’. American Idol and its Canadian equivalent are a six month long extravaganza of new talent! Actually no; it’s an extended, over-wrought, glitzed-up, over-hyped marketing ploy.

Ever since the Nineties’ boy bands and pop princesses, there has been a lot of hype and no true talent to back it up. Dancing monkeys primed with calculated ploys and written-in emotional lyrics. Backstreet Boys, n’Sync and any of the other woulda-beens from back then—they are all plug and play. Take ‘em out, shuffle ‘em round, you couldn’t tell the difference. As for the pop princesses… honestly I can’t tell the difference between any of them in the last fifteen years.

And if someone points out Justin Timberlake as an exemplar of talent out of this particular wasteland… I’d say you’re making my point for me.

No, if I want something new to listen to these days, I reach back. Reach way back, to the back of the shelf. Reach back to when I was born and beyond. Dust off the Van Morrison, turn up the Lynyrd Skynyrd, reach higher with John Hiatt, feel a little Phish-y, get “Superstitious” with Stevie (R.I.P.), get Led-ed with Zeppelin and keep rockin’ with the Steve Miller Band.

And if Dan will let me add a song to his list, I’ll add Song #202, “Simple Man” by Lynyrd Skynyrd. Turn it up, and tune out.

Thursday, January 17, 2008

I feel I must relate this tale

In addition to my regular job I also help out at a school a couple days a week. It's a business school and it's kind of fun. I haven't explored the building much, but this evening, since I'm still fighting this gosh darn cold, I went off in search of warm beverages. My explorations proved fruitful; I discovered one of those 'you put your money in and then either coffee or hot chocolate comes out, depending upon your choice' machines. For me, it was a no-brainer. I chose 'whipped hot chocolate.' But first I had to try to feed the machine a dollar bill. Approximately 4 out of 5 times with machines like these that's a dealbreaker. Not tonight. And -- bonus! -- after I put my dollar in, the 'exact change' light came on. I was psyched! This never happens to me! I'm always the guy who comes up to the machine right after that light gets lit. I'm NEVER the guy who gets the privilege of being the last person to be able to use folding money to purchase their beverage. No, as I said, I'm always the guy who gleefully approaches the vending machine, snapping a crisp Americano dollar bill, only to find out I need exact change.

So I was truly overjoyed. While my hot chocolate was dispensed, I pictured the next guy coming to the machine and having his hopes completely dashed. 'Take that, f-----!' I thought gleefully. Then I felt kind of bad about that. Then the exact change light went off and I was left with an empty feeling inside and a cup of MOLTEN hot chocolate in my right hand. Yowza! And of course, as it will, karma stepped in and filled the cup to the brim, causing me to dribble way hot chocolate on my fingers with each step I took on the return voyage. It's tough. You try to be a good guy and look where it gets you.

Anyway, as hot chocolate goes, it's only okay. I can almost taste the powder it was made with. It reminded me, though, of a temp job I had here in the Twin Cities back in 1994. I was some kind of data entry guy working for some company. The job itself was just alright. Something less than alright, actually, but it paid the bills. What the job did offer, though, was access to the best 'you put your money in and then either coffee or hot chocolate comes out, depending upon your choice' machine in the world. Man, that was some sa-weet hot chocolate! I'd plan my whole day around that liquid magic.

6:00-10:00 Work
Hot chocolate break
10:15-11:45 Work
Noon: Lunch/hot chocolate break
12:30-2:30 Work
Hot chocolate break
2:45-4:00 Work
4:02: Get hot chocolate to go

I about wore that machine out. And the hot chocolate came in those cups where you get a poker hand (and the hole card is on the bottom of the cup). Talk about win/win! Sometimes it was win/win/win!

Yeah, that was a weird job. And I was working at that job during the bone-dead of winter, so I think that's why I drank all that hot chocolate. Normally, I have boundaries, but that winter, my self-control was out the window. It was ridiculous good stuff. I'd wake up in the morning thinking of hot chocolate.

How sweet is that?

Tuesday, January 15, 2008

Ambassador McConaughey

I was thinking today that Matthew McConaughey might be a good friend to have. Most people have those days where they aren't really inspired and things seem kind of blah. Matthew McConaughey never seems to have those kinds of days. Here's kind of how I think a day with Matthew McConaughey might go, if you were his friend and had just told him you were feeling a little down.

McConaughey: You're feeling down? Aw, come on, man! Are you serious? Listen, relax. Here's what we're going to do. We're going to drink a few beers, alright? Then we're going to the ocean to surf for a little while. Everything's going to be cool. Then we're going to take it back to my Gulfstream, we're going to call up a bunch of girls and we're just going to kick it for awhile, see where it goes. And if it doesn't go anywhere, that's alright, too. That's what it all about, man. Just seeing where things lead and going with it. But first we're going to go into this Starbucks and we're going to get us some macchiatos -- on me.

Me (distressed): But Matthew, you're not wearing a shirt. They won't serve you if you're not wearing a shirt!

McConaughey: Listen, relax. Here's what we're going to do. We're going to go inside and we're going to talk to the manager. If he's got a problem, we'll take him surfing with us. And if he wants to come back to the Gulfstream and have a few beers with us and the ladies, that's cool. We'll get the macchiatos, okay? Don't worry. Everything's going to be alright. Now tell me you agree with me and say it like you mean it.

Me: Everything's going to be alright.

McConaughey: Alright.

(Smiling, we enter the Starbucks).

I think it would go a lot like that. And that's why I think Matthew McConaughey should be named Ambassador to whatever country we're having the most problems with at any given moment. The leaders of these countries wouldn't know what hit them. One minute they'd be planning nefarious doings, the next they'd be on a surfboard in the Pacific Ocean next to Matthew McConaughey -- on his surfboard -- saying, 'What did I tell you, brother? Is this alright or is this alright? It could be like this every day, my man. Bombs, weapons, guns, who needs 'em? Now let's catch this last wave and then take it back to my Gulfstream. You with me? You're with me. Alright.'

You know, as strange as this is for me to say, I think I may have a point here.

Sunday, January 13, 2008

a brief foray into politics

I saw this on MSN the other day. It has to do with George W. Bush's trip to the Middle East.

Stephen Hadley, Bush's national security adviser, sounded pessimistic about Hamas joining the peace process.

"Nobody, unfortunately, is very optimistic that they will make that choice," Hadley said. "Hamas came to power in election; [they] will have to submit [themselves] at some point to the people of Gaza in terms of their approval of the job they have done. And at this point, it's a pretty depressing situation in Hamas - for all those people who live there."

First of all, Stephen Hadley, like all Bush loyalists, is a torrential douchebag. Now play this game with me: The first time you see 'Hamas' in the italicized paragraph above, substitute the word 'Republicans.' Then when you see the word 'Gaza,' insert 'America' and do the same thing the second time you see 'Hamas.'

It still holds true, doesn't it?

Am I comparing Hamas to the Republicans? Not at all. I'm just pointing out how funny it is that sometimes you can start out describing one thing and wind up describing something else at the same time. I believe they call that subtext.

We're in the home stretch, folks. One more year of incompetence and corruption to go.

Saturday, January 12, 2008

my day to write a horoscope

Not much time today. So I thought I'd write about something that occurred to me yesterday. Back a long time ago in what I call my Days of Booze, a period marked by infrequent -- but probably still too frequent to be healthy -- bouts of fairly heavy drinking, I was out of town with some like-minded friends. Luckily, one of these friends had a brother in this town, so we all got greased up good and then crashed at the home of my friend's brother. His brother was out of town, so we had the place all to ourselves. And we didn't have to spring for a hotel room (score!). Well, by about 1:30 or so, we were all pretty shook down, so the scramble for shelter began. My friend, the one whose brother's place we were staying at, got the bed. No argument there, of course. Someone else got the couch and whatever blanket-type device was draped across the back of that. The rest of us got to 'go fish,' basically. It was spring, I think, so it shouldn't have been such a big deal.

But the place really cooled down at night. And there was literally nothing to use as a blanket. So I don't know, three or four of us just sprawled out on the floor at various points across the living room and assumed fetal positions. I wasn't quite drunk enough to just fall asleep peacefully. No, I was just sober enough to be the only one left to think about just how cold I actually was. I was shivering! It was horrible! That night will always rank among the most miserable nights of my life.

Anyway, I must have nodded off for at least a short while. Then as dawn began to break, I decided to venture over to the hall closet. Inside, were any numbers of thick blankets and comforters. Seriously, it was a closet of warmth! So I grabbed a nice comforter and hit the floor again. Then, no more than five minutes later, my friend who had enjoyed a pleasant night of warmth and sleep in a real, live bed stepped out of the bedroom and announced it was time to 'get a move on.'

True story.

Now the horoscope part of this post. I think for all of us, there are things we want or don't have and we get to thinking these things are far away, or out of our reach. Today, as you go out into the universe, keep this story in mind. That bag of Doritos or piece of key lime pie you crave so much is probably a lot closer than you would ever imagine it to be. But you have to actively look for it, my friends. That's the deal.

Watch out for Tauruses today, Pisces.

Friday, January 11, 2008

a confession

Alright, this rigorous debate about which movie -- Footloose or Flashdance -- would win in a fair fight is wearing me down. I'm not eating, I'm not sleeping. Actually, that's not quite true. I had a nice dinner last night and then slept soundly. Regardless, this matter has to be settled. I feel like there's disharmony loose in the universe and I feel like I'm the cause of all this unrest. So what is wrong must be set right.

A confession: I've never seen 'Flashdance.' Now before you start burning me in effigy, I FEEL as though I've seen it. I've watched bits and pieces on cable over the years and I've seen the famous bucket scene so many times I feel like it was me that got doused. It wasn't, however. It was Jennifer Beals.

Now my friend Blackcrag has been on me for giving Kevin Bacon the edge over Jennifer Beals. I'm not arguing that Ms. Beals isn't/wasn't the more attractive of the two. As a gent who appreciates beauty, she'll get the nod every time. But Kevin Bacon is an American Institution. Without Bacon, this country is hopelessly adrift at sea. We might as well just burn the Constitution and kick the Statue of Liberty in the shins. I don't know what it is, there's just something about Kevin Bacon that makes him the quinessential Americano. And for that reason, and that reason alone, he has an edge over Jennifer Beals.

Where was I? Oh, that's right; I had just confessed to never having seen 'Flashdance.' Being that's so, I probably don't have the right to say one movie is better than another. And as to who would win in a fight between Flashdance and Footloose, that doesn't even really make sense, if you think about it. It's a rather bizarre notion.

Who thinks about things like this?

Another confession: I've also never seen 'The Goonies.' Oh, and I killed Professor Plum in the Study. With the candlestick, if you must know.

Thursday, January 10, 2008

just a Steel Town girl on a Saturday night..

Well, it's clear I have opened up a serious can of worms here. Thus far, we have one vote for Footloose and one vote for Flashdance (see yesterday's post. It is VITALLY important to this discussion). Let me just say, as far as my own thoughts go, there are a lot ways to dice this pickle. I think first we have to break it down thusly:

Kevin Bacon vs. Jennifer Beals. Advantage: Bacon.

Bacon's character vs. Beals's character: This is not so easy. Kevin Bacon's character is a gymnast and he has a job at the grain mill. Tossing sacks of flour is a great way to stay in shape. Plus he has the whole grain mill to himself so he can practice his gymnastics and really go to work on himself. Now, Jennifer Beals's character is a steelworker. Everyone knows just how tough steelworkers are. It's too close to call; this is a draw.

Supporting cast: The Footloose supporting cast is comprised of fine actors such as Sarah Jessica Parker and Christopher Penn. The Flashdance supporting cast is a bucket (containing water). Advantage: bucket.

Theme song singer: Kenny Loggins vs. Irene Cara. Kenny Loggins sang the themes to such movies as Top Gun, Caddyshack, Revenge of the Nerds 2 and Over the Top. Irene Cara had **[edited after new facts came to light] Flashdance, Fame, and maybe D.C. Cab. Slight advantage: Loggins.

Intangibles: Kevin Bacon's hair vs. Jennifer Beals's pluck. Advantage: Kevin Bacon's hair. Face it, folks, it's a national treasure, and there isn't a single one of us who wouldn't kill or die for it.

The end result? I'm afraid...Footloose would win in a split decision over Flashdance, if the two movies were to ever come to blows. I want to be clear, though, that both movies are classics that will endure through the centuries, long after the colonies on the moon have been abandoned.

A footnote: A few years back I was bitten by a radioactive brown Footloose spider. Though I didn't die, I now have the power to cut loose.


Wednesday, January 09, 2008

I'm not changing the world here

Sometimes I wonder who would win in a fight between Flashdance and Footloose.

Tuesday, January 01, 2008

January 1, 2008

A brand New Year has arrived on our doorstep. I'm okay with that. I'm a fairly big believer in fresh starts.

It's cold out there today, and while that doesn't make me happy, we've got the whole day to do with what we will; that's a beautiful thing.

I think I'll start the year off with a short post. I'm going to try to pace myself this year, not get too worn out early on. All I really have to say (Besides Happy New Year! and what not) today is that apparently I've been blogging for over a year and a half now. Believe me when I say it feels a lot longer than that. I swear, sometimes it feels like I've been blogging since the Civil War. That's not too much of an exaggeration. Time does weird things, you know. It curves and bends and twists and weaves, and just when you think you've got a line on it, it blows right past you.

Anyway, I went into the archives and pulled up one of my few 'classic' posts. Enjoy.

December 20, 1860 -- Charleston, South Carolina

I do declare, I woke up with a very strange sense of foreboding today. These Rebs are up to something. I can just feel it!