Years Dry On Their Own

Well, here it is, the last day of 2007. I am at my office job, so the highlight of my nite other than composing this year-end letter for you will be at 3AM when I will listen online to Rodney Bingenheimer live from LA (on KROQ, a testosterone-heavy rock station any other time of day). Google Rodney. He's been around since the mid-sixties, friend to the stars, entree-prenoor supremo (his "English Disco" back in the early 70's was a home-away-from-home to touring brit acts like Zeppelin and Bowie). There's an interesting, sometimes sad documentary about him called "The Mayor Of Sunset Strip". He's a national treasure.

So what happened this year? who cares, it's all in the past! What's happening NOW? THAT'S the question. And what WILL be happening in the future? That, my dear friends is up to YOU. MAKE SOMETHING HAPPEN!!! Or just cool out.

Ever drink bourbon at a holiday party? I did, last night. You should try it. Forget stupid beer. Wine is equally stupid. Sorry, cork sniffers. Go crawl up the remainder of your ass. What bouquet! Bourbon can be enjoyed on the rocks, mixed with soda (yecchh) or even cola if you are self-conscious. And especially by the SHOT. Forget gin, vodka, any other clear liquor, those are not made for shot drinking. And tequila just tastes plain horrible. Well. what about Schnapps, I hear you ask? Whaddaya, crazy? Gee whiz, Potsie, what if your mom finds out? She won't, if you remember to add water to the bottle. And to hell with Jager, that's for people who drive hummers and have miniscule cocks. Bourbon does it for REAL. And I'm a-gonna do it again on New Years Eve.

So what should we do this year? Well, whatever you do, don't forget to vote this year and DON'T BE STUPID ABOUT IT. Things are too repressive, we need change. At least for the juke box. If you wanna waste votes, do it on American Idol or something. Also, let's vow not to make anymore useless people into big celebrities. We've gone too far & now it seems normal to have bags of rocks as role models. In fact, let's vow not to have ANY MORE big celebrities. We can do it, if we all join forces & make a pact. If we can tear ourselves away from Carrie Ann & Bruno: Dance Wars, that is.

And please, no more dogs-in-a-handbag. If you must cart that little rat around like an accessory, put it in a picnic basket, Dorothy.

I'd like to leave on a positive note. I believe people are basically good at heart. I believe people will help those in need when the chips are down. For all my complaining, there's no where I'd rather be than in the good ol' U. S. of A.

But maybe everyone else could relocate.

45 RPM spin-o-rama!

So this was Christmas, and what did you get?

Yes, the dulcet tones of Yoko Ono & John Lennon are still ringing in my ears as another Xmas has come and gone. And, sadly for you, dear reader, I may not be blogging as often as I have been because one of my many boss gifts was a USB turntable. Do you know what this means?? It means that I will be transferring hundreds of lps and thousands of singles from vinyl to digital media, that's CDs for those of you who need clarification! I expect this to take me two or three days. Ha ha, not really, more like most of 2008. At least. And so help me Jean Dixon I predict that the new year will see me involved in many more arguments because I will become obsessed with this transfer project, likening it the Mona Lisa teeth whitening restoration. Because people - that is my wife and probably anyone else I know - will become fed up with me because I can't attend weddings or bar mitzvahs or take out the garbage because I'm still painstakingly remixing side two of The Charlie Parker Quintet's One Night In Birdland set. C'mon, it was done with a wire recorder on location in 1953! You do want to hear how good a bass player Curley Russell was, don't you?

So this wasn't the only thing Xmas brought my way. I saw happy smiles dance across the faces of famiy members as the season brought forth tidings of comfort and joy (note: do not try drinking southern comfort and joy dishwashing lotion, unless you have to) and every walkable wonderland became winterized. So Xmas brought me a lot of crap to clean up afterward. But it was worth it. Because very soon all my Federal and King sides by The Midnighters will be on one badass CD, as well as my import punk 45s from 1977 and the off the wall 60s garage stuff and my 12 inch dance singles from the 80s and not too much from the 90s because by then it was already on CD.

But as we all know, Christmas is a time for giving, not receiving. And I'm glad that I was given a USB turntable because now my James Brown Xmas lp will be on CD, and remixed for maximum holiday Godfatherness, and it will sit proudly in the jukebox playlist rotation for next Xmas, along with an absolutely unhinged rocking version of Merry Xmas Baby by Dead Ike & Tina Turner and Brenda Lee's Cajun Bayou nugget Papa Noel. And even Count Scary. Yes, Count Scary. Now that he's out of a job, he's cool again.

And truthfully, the turntable is not the only thing I got. I also received a lot of nice things to wear while I'm burning the first Elvis album MINUS THE FAKE ECHO, IF YOU PLEASE. And some new headphones, so I can accurately balance and re-equalize The Stooges Raw Power, to my own personal preference.

And I've made some new year's resolutions, too. First off, I'm going to be more sensitive to people's feelings. Do they want to hear the superior mono version of Sgt Pepper, or would they rather I put on the UK version of the first Strokes lp? The new kindhearted me will let them decide.

And furthermore, I'll make a conscious effort to eat healthy and exercise. Right after I burn my Fortune Records 45s.

And I'll probably drink alot more. Why not.


I gotta go buy some blank CDs, jewel boxes. labels and ink. See you later.

No One Would Understand

I wasn't going to write about this, but ...

(every post should begin that way. In fact, it does, it's...implied)

Leaving work yesterday I passed a cubicle that had a humorous (to someone I suppose) sign on the overhead bin, one that I've passed every day for years. But for some reason this time it made me think.

It said "Female Chauvanist Pig".

Here's the thing: I find that as offensive as a sign that says "Down With White People" in a black person's cube.

Yes, we have established the fact that "woman is the ni@@er of the world", according to John Lennon, and unfortunately society is essentially a boy's club. But if a man had a "male chauvanist pig" sign in his cube, every woman would think...well, they would think exactly what they should think about that. What everyone should think about that.

And here's the camelback-breakin' straw that really made me put mitts to keys about this.

Driving home today I was behind a big white pickup truck (ha ha, you know what I mean when I say ha ha don't you, whoever you are) that had a sign on the back window:

IT'S A TRUCK THING. YOU JEEP FAGS WOULDN'T UNDERSTAND.

And "fags" was in very frilly lettering.

This makes my point (and I do have one, somewhere) ever so clear: people are the stupidest creatures on the planet.

Now, granted, I hate a lot of shit. And I'm probably the king of knee-jerk reactions. But I also have a certain respect for peoples' personal beliefs and well being. I feel people have a right to pick their favorite god, or suck whatever floats their boat, or vote for whomever they choose even though they are probably wrong and their decision will screw up billions of people for years to come, among other things which are truly no one's business. But when I see ignorant shit like this bumper sticker (actually, it wasn't a bumper sticker; it was like custom made vinyl letters that covered almost half the back window), well, it makes me want to "thumb my nose" (yeah, that's nice & safe) at everyone who says I'm too blunt or that I have "some nerve". There are bigger threats than my idiotic rantings. And there are bigger threats than the stupid woman in that cube or the asshole in that truck. But we gotta start somewhere.

I'm not suggesting cultural cleansing - that would be very badass though, wouldn't it? - but people need to get it together. Seriously. I caught some of the Ford Theater Xmas thing on TV & it made me ill seeing Washington's choicest assholes sitting there in their finery. OK, I'm going off on a tangent, and I probably sound like an Air America radio program. It's Xmas after all, so let's just breathe deeply & relax & do a shot & deck some halls & go a-wassailing.

Then, after a few more shots, let's go kick the shit out of cube-girl & homophobe truck-boy!

The Return Of Italics And Bold Print!!!

OMG!! I couldn't wait to tell you about this!! Heidi Klum at some soiree with a dress cut so low in the back that her refrigerator repairman muscle shows!! You can see it here: http://entertainment.msn.com/movies/Undressed
She does NOT look hot, she looks stupid with that plastic band in her brastrap neighborhood. Doesn't she have honest friends?

Okay, okay .... go to the Perfect Sound Forever website http://www.furious.com/Perfect/
and send the audio article guy some hate mail. In his current article he talks about $2500 turntable tonearm needles. I wrote him about this, since he's listening to Fleetwood Mac & The Pixies (I know, I know, THAT'S why I wrote him!)& he replied to me in a very nasty manner & I was hurt. Give it to him!

I can still look forward to Xmas, because QVC says you can still get stuff by Xmas eve with special posting costs. But after 12/21 midnight, sorry pal. That's when the holidays will be over for me!

So Britney's 16-year-old sister's pregnant! Is anyone surprised? That mother should lock herself in the bathroom & reach for the razor blades!

And as my favorite American writer Michael Musto
http://www.villagevoice.com/nyclife/0751,musto,78669,15.html
well he says Wynnonna (is that enough n's?) did some show wearing two different velvet tents & a tiara. Now that's putting perfume on a pig, Jethro!

Best daytime smartass: Regis! Check him out! (I have no url reference for this, he's on ABC, just turn on the TV)

So it looks like Leno & Conan are coming back to TV: who cares? Dumbass & Dumbassier!

And of course, what would this blog be without an update on my favorite basket case: Amy Winehouse was hauled into jail for questioning regarding her husband Pete Doherty - I mean Blake Cecil-Fielder - and his involvement in obstructing justice. And now JAY-Z has said he wants to work with her. Now that's obstructing justice! Also, Wino's father is freaking out because she was seen hanging out with Pete Doherty backstage at some show the other night. At this rate, by the first of the year absolutely NO ONE will care what happens to her. But in all honesty she told us she was no good.

I know you're out there, I can hear you tsk-ing.

I Wish It Could Be Xmas Nevery Day

In the past two weeks I must've seen two dozen Lifetime made-for-TV xmas movies. Why do I watch them? Don't ask. Everything else is in reruns because of the writers' strike. But I gotta tell ya, I have never seen such bad acting or such pitiful scripts since (fill in the name of any box office smash of the last five years).

So sit back and relax while I freestyle bitch about Xmas for awhile...


- The local radio station plays Xmas music 24 hours a day, and has been doing so since I believe November 1. They play the same dozen songs over & over. Wait, I already complained about this. See, the writers' strike has EVERYTHING in reruns! But in a perfect world, we'd be hearing Roy Wood's "I Wish It Could Be Xmas Everyday" and Slade's "Merry Xmas Everybody". Those limeys really knew how to deck the halls back in the early 70s, boy!

- Target's seasonal promos feature Jim Noir's "My Patch" from his "Tower Of Love" lp, which was never a Xmas song, but good ol' Target, they just changed the words and made it one! Now if only someone would do that with Howlin' Wolf's "I Asked For Water (she brought me gasoline)"...

- LED lights - 21st century technology & they can't make white ones?

- Cashmere: this year's IOU sweatshirt! Or maybe this year's Old Navy Fleece!

- Does the verizon network geek guy get less pay because he no longer has lines?

- Those pseudo-retro claymation-style holiday commercials on Food Network will thankfully be gone in a week. However, the hosts will retain their Clydesdale feet!

- Speaking of commercials, I get a perverse pleasure from the McCormick spice one, where the doorbell rings & the guy says "hey, my folks are here!" And in the kitchen the wife mutters under her breath, "F#@k!"


Well, that's all I can think of for now. Soon, I'll be posting my best-of & worst-of lists for 2007. That'll be lopsided for sure!

Later, Mr. Guitar Slinger

Ike Turner has played his last earthbound lick. People tend to overlook his contributions to popular music, basically because of Lawrence Fishburne's portrayal of him in that Tina Turner movie. For most people, if it weren't for that movie, no one would even know who he is ... was. Except for the occasional joke made in reference to his role as husband of the year. See what I mean?

Ike Turner led the band on what most people consider the first ever rock & roll record, "Rocket 88" recorded at Sun studios in Memphis, before Presley. The record was credited to Jackie Brenston, who did the vocals. This record also boasts having the quite possibly first ever recorded "fuzz" guitar, due to a broken speaker on Ike's amp. (My garage band Zip used to do it back in 1970, but we did it more James Cotton-style)

So years go by & Ike finds Tina, and starts hiring the numerous girls he named The Ikettes who WILDLY gyrate behind/along with Tina. They put all these purposeless dancers who occupy the stage with all these talentless pop singers to SHAME. And Tina simply CANNOT be contained and of course as we all know she eventually blows up big time. I saw The Ike & Tina Turner Revue, as they were then billed, in 1970 and 1971, and they were WAY hotter than any hippie rock band out on the road. Ike's band was unbelievably rock solid, and the sight of Tina & The Ikettes running/shaking/shimmying across the stage laid pussy boy Mick Jagger to shame (who simply CAN NOT DANCE unless you call his rooster pecking shit dancing). Unless they were experienced live, they pretty much were ignored by the general populus.

Ike was a Svengali, much like Phil Spector, who coincidentally produced a MASSIVE thing called "River Deep/Mountain High" for Tina, which sold zero records, and put Spector into retirement until he was saved by The Beatles. (By the way Ike was banned from the "River Deep" sessions. Guess only one nutjob at a time was legally allowed in Gold Star studios. I should check to see if Spector & Brian Wilson were ever there at the same time)

So yeah, he unfortunately beat his wife, which should not be excused, but John Lennon's spousal abuse of his 1st wife seems to get excused, I guess because he changed the face of music forever and ever. I'm just saying that Ike isn't the only one. He was a great musician, but all he is remembered for is beating Tina.

So anyway, you should check out some Ike & Tina Turner music. They did the original "Nutbush City Limits". But not the original "Proud Mary", but they might as well have. What are you waiting for? Get over to You Tube!

I Have Nuthin' To Say

I'm not inspired. Gimme a minute, maybe I'll get there. There are a number of things I could rant about, but they'll end up hurting someone, somewhere, of that I'm certain.

OK, while I'm waiting for inspiration to hit, let me tell you how the name of this blog came to be.

Back in the 1950s there was a little AM radio station called WJLB, at 1400 on the dial. It was one of 2 black stations in Detroit, the other being WCHB at 1440, and it was the better of the two. The crown jewel at JLB, aside from the inspirational broadcaster Martha Jean The Queen was "Frantic" Ernie Durham, who was your quintessential 50's R&B dj, full of rhymin' jive & a hipper-than-hip attitude. He'd say things like, well, like "Great Googa Mooga Shooga Wooga!", and "what's your pleasure, treasure?" and "ooh-la-wee, it's Ernie D with another stack o' wax just for thee". And then he'd play some badass smokin' hot jam like "Think" by the 5 Royals or "Sexy Ways" by The Midnighters (google those tunes & find a ram file to check out). He used to whoop & holler along with the records, and he was just the coolest thing in town, with his red processed pompadour (Ernie D was not Irish, you dig). And rest assured he was NEVER lame, whatever thoughts you may be formulating.

So he obviously made a huge impression on me. About 10 years ago, maybe a bit more, I can't remember, he scored a Saturday night show on WDET back when that was the best - the ONLY - radio station in town, but at that point, at about 70 years of age, his game was slipping. Plenty of miscued records, a good amount of dead air, sad things like that. But it was great to hear his voice again, and his rhymes were still fairly on point. But truth be told, it was pretty pathetic & I kinda cringed listening to him, feeling bad for him.

Then one Saturday, he wasn't on the air. The next day's paper told the tale: Frantic Ernie merged with the universe.

I feel bad for people who weren't around back in the 50s or 60s, who missed the experience of the rapid and truly quantum leaps that were made in radio, like they missed something very cool and at the same time very important. And radio in the 60s took a lot more giant steps than in the 50s. It was a real important part of life, it was what you'd talk about at school. It was community, it was a SCENE that was happening all around, and you could watch it grow, no one was programming it for you from some corporate headquarters somewhere. There were REGIONAL hits, songs that were popular in your city but not necessarily anywhere else, which is unheard of today. Like it was YOURS, like YOU created the buzz. You'd hear some soul gem, followed by some English beat group, then some scuzzy little garage band (only then we didn't know they were "garage bands"), and they all fit comfortably side-by-side. Then when the first FM "underground" station started (because everything was AM until about 1967, FM was for things public access or farm reports, so it was virtually an untapped thing for pop music) you actually had a place to hear stuff you'd read about, like Hendrix, the Velvet Underground, the MC5 or the Stooges - it seemed DANGEROUS, like "don't let your parents find out you're listening to this subversive shit" and they were inventing rock radio on the fly at the time, so it was anything goes. ANYTHING. And little by little you found out people all over the city were listening to the same station, and there was a visible shift away from The Monkees and going-steady type shit to something with depth and a bit more reality. And it truly was exciting.

At this time, around 1967-68, Detroit was so alive, there were two, three, at times even more, places to see and hear live music. EVERY WEEKEND. The venues were old movie theaters in the ghetto, and there would usually be three bands, and we're talking the likes of the bleedin' WHO in their earth-shattering prime and Led Zepplin and people like that, and the average admissiion was THREE DOLLARS, and you could stand 10 feet from the stage, & yell stuff to the bands on stage, & at one venue the acts had to leave the stage by stairs at the front, not around back, so they'd be walkin' off through the crowd, slappin' five and getting patted on the back as they passed by. COMMUNITY. And no one thought anything of it. Now you pay close to a hundred bucks to sit half a block away.

Guess I got inspired.

XMAS

'Tis the season. Don't get me started!

Too late!

I received an e-mail - two, actually - from my cousin in Florida, with a video attachment about the whole "Christmas vs. Holidays" bullshit. "Different pictures, same words" - a remix, if you will.

Now I know I'm going to make some people mad - a certain relative I can think of right off the bat - but I'm all about pretending to keep it real. So who cares?

Here's why who cares - take a poll of, let's say, Americans. How many of them actually think about Jesus at Christmastime? I'm not judging, just stating a fact. Think and let think, I always say. But like I replied to my cousin, if you forced people to be totally honest, I think your results would reflect the mindset that Christmas means gifts (buying & receiving), food, parties, getting laid/high/drunk, taking time off work/school, going into debt. Chances are, ain't no Jesus talk at holiday parties. I'm not condoning this (don't get me caught up in any Lennon is bigger than Christ thing), it's just a sad fact of today.

And I gotta be honest with you, it all smacks of the religious right, this new-found so-called partiotism that confidentially scares the shit outta me. Because it's all a sham, it's insincere and it's power-based.

I know the reason for the season, thank you. But you get most excited about how you're gonna go to frikkin' Wal-Mart at 4AM to buy some shitty toy for that brat of yours, don't you? And you've saved part of your household money for months to get those golf clubs for the husband who was drunk the other night & when you wouldn't screw him he slapped you & called you a bitch. Is that love or just hoping he stays cool over the holidays? And the only religious tie-in you'll have is when the hoopla is all over & it all feels so empty & you'll say to yourself, "God Damn it". Because another thing that burns you up is the $400 you spent on food and booze for the in-laws who don't appreciate it but expect it & they hole up in a corner & don't talk to anyone else until it's time to go. Just like frikkin' teenagers. And that's another story, too.

And you're gonna feel spiritual?

Pass the Christian Brothers.

Happy holidays, everybody.

And Now, Back By Popular Demand - Sharon Lois & Bram!

I forgot - which one quit the music business: 50 cent or Kanye West?

That's what I thought.

The music business - hell, the entertainment business - is so stupid.

I'm looking at a recent copy of Rolling Stone that someone at work left on their desk, and inside there's a photo of Eddie Van Halen on stage at a recent show. The caption reads - get this - "Atomic Punks". WTF !??!!?

Yeah, we all remember Van Halen back in '77 playing Rock Against Racism gigs at Mabuhay Gardens, sharing the stage with The Slits and The Clash. (do I have to say "not", cliche watchers?) They are about the most NON-punk band I can think of, besides every other metal hair outfit from back then.

The fact that the term "shred" pretty much = Eddie Van Halen should give you some idea how wrong it is to use the words "punk" and "Van Halen" in the same sentence, unless of course when you say punk you're discussing Ed's mosquito chasers.

How pathetic it must be to see these 50 year old guys prancing around the stage singing that they're "hot for teacher". I guess it's only about 10 years less disgusting as some pension-eligible guy yelping "I'm gonna give you every inch of my love" - because that's certainly gonna happen in your town in a few months.

And since Led Zeppelin came up, what is up with Robert Plant's hair? Has he checked a mirror? His once Raphaelite tresses now look like some homeless guy got caught in the rain. And you wanna give me every inch of your love? Help, police!

Yeah, I know it's all about reliving your youth, because its so fleeting. I'm always disappointed with the second coming of some quaint relic. Out of the numerous icons from my youth that I've seen in their golden years, only Bob Dylan, ? & The Mysterians (I shit you not) and the great Ray Davies haven't disappointed. Oh, and of course Neil Young (who will never get old).

And The Sex Pistols are coming around AGAIN?? The first comeback they said yeah, the bread's too good to turn down. And I applauded them for that. Now it's down to "we do it better than anyone else". Er, not really, not anymore, pops. Maybe when you were 20, but what's edgy & punky at 20 is downright pathetic & sad at 50. (I'm thinking New York Dolls reunion. Nothing's worse than an old worn out tart.) What, you still have something to say?

Flipping through this magazine, I see: John Fogerty, Lou Reed, Tom Petty, Springsteen, Axl Rose (what's he doing in a music magazine?), the Police of course, and Neil Young.

Oh, did I mention that on the cover it says "THE 2007 HOT ISSUE"?

Who's bad? Ch'mon!

I am reminded of a conversation I had yesterday - it was, indeed, the same one in which I was told I am so mean on this blog. Apparently they didn't read the blog that said I am full of shit and a real pussycat. Anyway, it appears I made a glaring omission in my cliche blog:

"My bad"

Gawd I hate hate hate that!! I first heard someone say that about five years ago, and at the time, two people said it in two consecutive statements. I thought it sounded kinda stupid. Now, it's even being said by Jessica Simpleton in a Macy's TV ad. Jeez, that's like your grandfather saying "right on" or the parish priest saying "for shizzle" and he's not even the hoodlum priest!

And about that Macy's ad: I have a real problem with Jessica Simpson's agent. When is she going to stop pushing the whole stupid trip? OK, being self-effacing was a good move a few years back, but that's all she does now. Is she that big a dumbass?

And while I'm dissecting the Macy's ad: Piddly saying "Sean John is sexy; Sean John is expensive..." Oh, so the accent is on the second word. OK so now I can correctly say "Sean John is an ugly-ass clothing line".

And what's with that guy, John-Hurt-with-a-feather-up-his-ass? Aren't there any cooled-out gay guys who do normal shit & have good taste but just like cock? I don't think I've seen any - knowingly, anyway - gay guys who have a classic clothes sense or good taste, everything has to be screwed up a little, like they're still guys with the usual guy bad style-sense, but they have to act like their interests are really in clothes and decor and shit. I'm pretty straight, but I know bad style when I see it, and I certainly saw it in Carson Kressley from the get-go. Your clothes can sing, just not like Mariah Carey.

WOW - something GOOD to tell you!!

Yesterday I saw a Christmas commercial on TCM that used a facsimile, if not an original sample, of The Drifters' "White Christmas", but with new TCM-specific lyrics. The vintage film footage was spot-on, the vocals actually sounded of-the-period. Look for it.

AMY WINEHOUSE WATCH

She cancelled all her upcoming gigs for I-don't-know-how-long. She can't go on without her husband, the connection. That girl's a train wreck, and I just can't stop looking! Meanwhile, I'm still digging her "Valerie" single, and, of course, the "Back To Black" lp will always be in heavy rotation on the Googa-Mooga jukebox.

Did I say lp? I meant CD!

My bad!!!

I Told You I Was Trouble ...

Despite all the vitriol spewed on this page, I'm really not full of hate. I'm a rather decent guy, if I do say so myself. I feel the need to say that, because when I stop & think about ... things for a minute, it seems like I have a lot of pent-up whatever.

And I guess I do: Catholic upbringing brought the guilt. Coming of age in the 60's promoted a pro-coolsville, anti-establishment stripe. The 70s came roaring in and when four kids were killed at Kent State I dug a hole and buried peace love and flowers in the dirt. After the cultural one-two punch of Glam & Punk, and journalists like Lester Bangs and Richard Meltzer and rags like Creem Magazine and the underground comix press made wiseacres and scalawags seem attractive, it seemed sarcasm and cynicism was greenlighted. It does sound cliche doesn't it? But if you were around then, that's how it went down for me.

So all my verbal shitting is pretty much good-natured. Anyway, everyone has the right to their own opinion, and most of what I spew about isn't really worth anything in the big picture. Except to me, and maybe not even that. Why do it, then? Because I CAN. And so can you. But honestly, I think there's too much of THIS RIGHT HERE going on today - people voicing their opinions left and right, most of it verbal watery pooh. We've come a long way from wearing your favorite shitty band's t-shirt. It's called talk radio.

This post has disintegrated into something stupid and needs to be redeemed. So I'll leave you with some of the best advice I can give you.

WFMU.ORG is the best station in the U S of A. Go to their site, listen live, or better yet, check out the archives for every show. My favorite show is Dave The Spazz on Thursday night. He is as you teens would say off the chain. Also notable is Teenage Wasteland with Bill Kelly (who is not a teeneager - they never are) and Fool's Paradise with Rex (he is - a fool, not a teen). Radio is primarily dead, but this station is the best I've heard in many a year. Check out the entire site. They have a ton of downloadables on their "blog" page.

Now get out there & defend your country, Johnny!

And another thing ...

People are idiots.

People are setting up tents at big box stores to buy attractively priced christmas gifts. I hope these same items are on sale for much less later in the season.

I remember going to Best Buy at midnight when the 1st Beatles Anthology CD came out. Why? I don't know. But I sure didn't camp out. I wouldn't even camp out to see John Lennon in person. Ask me when was the last time I played Anthology 1. Who knows?

On our way to Thanksgiving dinner at my brother & sister-in-laws, the local white suburban housewife radio station (you know, the one with the banal & insipid morning show. Still don't know which one? I see your point.) that started playing strictly Christmas music on November 1 played, well, lets just say eight songs. Five hours later, on the return trip, we hear four of those same songs. And different versions of two of the others. Now you can probably buy at least 60 years of Christmas music. Why do they repeat the same crappy songs over and over? I know I can turn the radio off, but my wife wants to hear Christmas music. At home, we have close to 100 Christmas discs. This fact she does not appreciate. Facts I am proud of: we do not have "It's The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year" by Amy Grant, which that station played during each trip, and Amy's vocal is the most phoned-in crapfest I've ever heard, and believe me I've heard (and loved) crapfests. Also we do not have "Little Drummer Boy" by Bob Seger. That song alone is reason for all Seger fans to put a silver bullet through their collective heads. At home we have really good Christmas music by Louis Prima, Charlie Parker, Bob Marley, Keith Richard, and many many more. My wife wants Johnny frikkin' Mathis. I want Johnny frikkin' Mathis, too - to finally come out and say "I like Senator Craig". Put some bells and a string quartet behind that.

People are going to give me lots of fodder this season. The campers are just the beginning.

Sorry fans, I'm too messed up right now...

I just burned my illegal copy of (Mark Ronson and) Amy Winehouse's CD-single-with-eight-remixes of her current UK number one hit, the remake of The Zutons' great song "Valerie". (whew) While I can't get the song out of my head, and it's caused me to go back & relisten to The Zutons fab album "Tired Of Hangin' Around", it made me think a lot about Ms. Whine-house.

What the hell is her problem? I was reading something tonight that said "The self-destructive tortured-artist routine was bullshit when Kurt Cobain did it, it was bullshit when Elliott Smith did it, and it's bullshit now." Amen to that, brother! And while you're corpse-droppin', add the still-breathing pathetically-old-enough-to-know-better Courtney Love, Britney "double-wide" Spears, and that snivelling little shit Pete Doherty.

This gal has absolutely the best album I've heard in years - biggest impact on me since I heard the 1st Strokes album (that was like the 2nd coming of The Velvet Underground - now they're about as significant as Velvet Revolver). So she likes getting messed up? Shit, I bet I can drink her under the table! It seems she's loaded every day, from what I read in the NME. So I seriously wonder how much, or how little, she has to drink before she gets into full-on AMY-mode. What a PIKER! Rod Stewart & The Faces used to have a BAR on stage & as bad a choice Mateus was for their beverage of choice (they also ate English food, so whaddaya expect), they NEVER had problems playing gigs. Same goes for Keith Richard. KEITH RICHARD!!! Bitch, when you wanna get REAL, come see ol' tree-fallin-out-of Keef! And he's like YOU, booze AND dope!

NOTE TO AMY: FIRST - it's good your loser husband, Blake Cecil Fielder (or whatever his name is) aka Pete Doherty-lite, is in jail. KEEP HIM THERE. Now, get back into the studio with a pot of coffee and Mark Ronson. Your collaboration on Back To Black was so right-on. Too bad now he's an over-exposed cliche (set him straight, baby -wait, look who I'm talkin' to!). We need another soul shot! Aretha ain't never gonna do it - but You can do it, you seem to actually have talent, & we can get about another year outta you before you're washed up & passe. Confidentially I'm tired of listening to the same old 10 tracks for this past year, even though nothing else has come along that's any better.

(And you know what? I've seen a LOT of girls in the malls walking around with messed-up pseudo-Amy hair - is that deliberate or are they just dirty pigs?)

Ronnie Spector from the fabulous Ronettes, who back in the 60s used to have the highest hair in captivity, said when they'd do shows, they'd pin it up as loose as possible, so that while they were on stage shakin' their moneymakers, the hair would start fallin' and it would look like they got into a fight, or just got outta bed, & the boys in the audience would go NUTS. So Amy, while I love ya, baby you ain't nothin' new. Ronnie had the hair, Billie Holiday had the junk, Judy Garland had the booze, but baby YOU got the voice. Get it together, baby.

And go to Applebee's.

LOL, my BFF ;-{ ) !

Gawd, how I hate cliches. I know, my bluetoothed friends, I'm one too. I mean, how can you not help but be one in some way shape or form. There are so many pop culture buzzwords and catchphrases and trends out there that it turns my stomach, & if you knew me you'd know that's gotta be a pretty mean feat.

OK, let's get started, I only have time for a few or I'll be here all day:

- Everyone is saying "No worries". I first heard this phrase on that stupid Abe Lincoln sleep aid TV commercial. I thought the actor read the script wrong; turns out everyone's saying that - EVERYONE EXCEPT ME.

- Everyone's also saying "yeah yeah yeah" in response - no, I mean in really really response - to some statement they agree with, thay they want to add some bit of detail to. Look, unless your name is Ringo, quit that shit. You sound like you have a stuttering problem.

- If you are past the age of 25 (OK, 30 or so), DO NOT wear your shirttail hanging out from under your sweater like the asshole on the "you're my #1" cell phone commercial. If you don't think you can NOT look sloppy just wearing an untucked shirt, tuck it in, gramps. And grams.

- If you were born/raised/obtained an education above the Mason-Dixon line, there is no fathomable reason for you to say "dudn't". The contraction is DOESN'T. "Dudn't it?" "Yeah, it dud!" See how stupid that sounds, Jeb?

- Back when I was a young creep, when your jeans were all torn at the bottom and you were dragging dirty denim stalagmites (ot 'tites, whichever is appropriate), it meant you were a)too poor to buy new ones; b)too stoned to pick up the scissors & cut that shit off; c)those jeans were way past their 2nd stage of wear, which started after you undid the hem last month because they were shrinking from being thrown in the dryer. Now I'm all for punky, I-don't-give-a-shit looking clothes, but this just reminds me of Britney Spears neighbors. In my youth we called them Grand Funk fans.

Wow. I'm really on a roll here. I better quit before I offend someone.

Am I a snob? Probably, and I'm probably as big a cliche as you'll ever see. And I'm also full of shit, and I'll be the first to tell you so. That's a cliche, too.

And I should care what you think because...? (look out, falling cliche zone)

Overture

Hey!! My first post on my first ever blog page! look ma, I'm bloggin'!!

First off, and this will probably be the topic of all my postings, I need to tell you what I hate. Why? because you need to know, that's why! And I'll tell you not only once, but probably ad nauseum. Guess what? I don't care if you don't like it! Get yer own blog page, ya stinkin' smolderin' turd !!

OK, let's get started straightaway ...

Since the holiday season is rapidly approaching, I wanna tell you how much I hate those stupid blow-up decorations that people put on their front lawns. I hate those things so much I wouldn't be surprised if half the slopeheads I work with own at least one (which one is the question: Santa in a sled, or a Xmas tree in a giant snow globe?) Those things are an eyesore, you might as well just paint your truck tire flower bed edging green & red. Be sure you're wearing your favorite bar satin jacket when you do so.

OK, now I'm startin' to limber up a little. I must admit, the blogging lingo was a little rusty at the start, but now I'm rollin' along like frickin' Chaucer. What's the character limit per post on this thing?

Nah, nevermind, I ran outta patience. I'm done for now.


Next time: cliches. Yeah, I'm lookin' at you.