The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

Between blogs I sit at my computer and stare into the abyss. I'm serious. I'm like an android that comes to life for a certain purpose - to write a blog - and once I've fulfilled that function I go into sleep mode until I'm called upon again. Like that guy on the Twilight Zone where astronauts land on a planet and everybody is frozen in suspended animation, carrying out some activity they enjoy for all eternity - a living graveyard, like a wax museum. And the caretaker is in hibernation until customers arrive, at which point he wakes up and attends to them. That's me between blogs. Dig?

The Good: Seriously. Listen to The White Stripes if you haven't leapt onto that bandwagon yet. I avoided this band like malaria for years because I'm suspicious of anything with that much hype. But here's a rare case where it is earned. In a month-and-a-half I have purchased four CD's and a live DVD - they're that good. I've never done that before for any band. Not even Petty! But Jack White manages to make amazing music following his simple "Law of Threes." His songs never have more than three instruments in them, whether it be guitar, drums, and keyboard, or guitar, drums, and marimba, or piano, drums, and whatever else. But it works, because this guy's got it in perspective. In an interview he once said that if you take your favorite musician and lock him in a room with a broken guitar and a tape recorder, he'll come up with a lot more interesting shit than if you put him up in a state-of-the-art recording facility and give him a million dollar budget.

I happen to think that's true. Why? Because at that point it becomes about the creative process itself, rather than punching out a few chords and some lyrics and spending the rest of your time trying to make it sound perfect. But its not just the sound with these guys ... its the lyrics too. Unlike some of their "contemporaries" (viz., The Strokes, The Vines, etc.), Jack White does not simply belt out some loud garage sound and slap some silly rock lyrics to them. His songs are minimalist without being simplistic, and his lyrics actually tell stories and deal with ... GASP! ... themes! Not overly elaborate, who wants to even think about them in their Socratic complexitites type lyrics, but something you can relate to and understand none-the-less.

At any rate, that's today's rant. I'm serious, though. Check them out.

The Bad: Lest someone make the mistake of thinking I'd actually admit to being wrong about something, I do not in any way retract statements made in that angry Sabres blog, two blogs back. The Sabres have the speed and skill to win in this league, and they're proving that, but their record is no way a positive endorsment of the job Regier, Quinn, or Golisano are doing. They made a committment to mediocrity and they lucked out when this team surprised everybody. But look - we've had injuries now to Miller, McKee, Kalinin, Gaustad, Briere, Dumont, Pyatt, Connolly, and I'm sure I'm forgetting a few. Oh yah, Max missed about 8 games with a groin injury. At some point Darcy has to remember he has a job. Teams can and do make moves during the season, not only within the last few hours before the trade deadline. Now we need a move more than ever. Two of our top three forwards are out with long term injuries, and we can't keep winning with the Rochester Americans taking the ice every night instead of the Buffalo Sabres. WIth teams like New Jersey getting red-hot, and teams like Tampa Bay, New York Rangers, Philadelphia, Carolina, Ottowa, and Toronto to conted with - we need to bolster this roster! The playoffs are inching closer, and the rest of our schedule is against Eastern Conference opponents. Vancouver, Edmonton, Colorado, and Atlanta are all looking for goaltenders, and they have players to spare. Why ... why, why, why, why, why, why, why ... are we still sitting on three goaltenders! For fucks sake! How about Biron to Edmonton for Peca, who has struggled all season and pissed off his coach, his teammates, and the fans? I'll take Peca!

The ugly: The Bills have Sherman available to them. They take Dick Jauron. Well, here's to a second straight season of boy-cotting '06. And hell ... if they start Holcomb over JP, I may even root against them.

Well, it's 5:30 on a Saturday night. Time to get drunk and watch my new White Stripes DVD. Leave a message, chums.

(The Ugly, part II) Oh, aftertale - anyone catch the news clips of Oprah blasting that weird author James Frey because some of his best-selling memoirs were exxagerated or made-up? This after she publically defended him a week earlier? She goes on TV, apologizes to everyone who sent her angry emails, and says they were right. Then she apparently spends the rest of the show calling this guy a monster to his face and pretending to cry because she's so upset and hurt. And this guy takes it and apologizes. This guy, who compared himself to Ernest Hemingway!!!!!!!!!

Let me ask you a question. Ever hear of Hunter S. Thompson? Ever hear of Tom Wolfe. Ever hear of any of the New Journalists at all? Ever hear of today's bigshots - Augustin Burroughs or David Sedaris or Spalding Gray (RIP)? THIS IS NOT NEWS! THEY'RE ALL FULL OF SHIT!! It's only when your book gets marketed to forty-five year-old ladies who don't know any better that it becomes outrageous for someone's memoirs to be ... OH NO! ... not completely honest. This is like everyone acting shocked that Ashley Simpson would lip-sync. Fuck Oprah, angry fat bitch. And fuck Frey for being a cowering pussy. He should never have gone back on the show, and since he did, it should have been to tell Oprah to swallow her own head. So much for your badass image, dude.

Seriously, this time ... later. Leave comments. Stay away from AIDS wherever possible.

'06 Comeback Special

What better reason to resurrect the blog than as a means of circumventing my own work-place boredom?
“Inconceivable!” you shout. “You’ll never get away with it!”
Beg to differ, chums. You see, the Shumans, upstanding Hebrews that they are, are all gone for the week. Holiday season, you know. ‘Thou shalt not lift thy finger during Chanukah,’ or some such sacred mandate. Exit Charlie Shuman (the shriveling old chairman), Ken Shuman (the pine-cone consuming president), and Dan Shuman (the sales troll).
But the mandate runs deeper for those who really know the biblical texts: ‘Thou shalt not lift thy finger during Chanukah, accepting that thou shalt forcibly extract labor from the heathen surfs and in so doing add to your fortune.’
I’m afraid it’s true. While my “superiors” enjoy the California sun, I sit here miserably in my cubicle with the charge of buying and selling secondary market plastic from injection molders, extruders, blow molders, recyclers, and compounders who are almost entirely off this week. Happy sales, young heathen surf!
Whatever, lords of the old testament. I’ve struck upon my own avenue of private rebellion. It involves my new Phil Collins greatest hits album and Microsoft Word. Yes! Of course! That’s it! Instead of not doing any work and looking like I’m not doing any work – I’ll not do any work and look terribly busy.
“YUPPIES EVERYWHERE CELEBRATE AS ANOTHER YOUNG MAN ABANDONS IDEALS AND JOINS THEIR RANKS!!”
Oh, boy. What will ever become of me now? Because I sure as hell am not sticking to the plan. “Never sit in a cubicle! Never call someone ‘boss’! Never work a job that sells out your talents just to get some crusty old fuck’s sig on your paycheck!”
Oops! Guess I strayed. It’s only temporary though. You gotta tell yourself stuff like this or your marbles could run away from you faster than good clear Polycarbonate regrind at less than a buck/pound.
Oh no! An office metaphor! A Shumanism! Is there no end to this worm hole? No bottom to this sunless corporate abyss? Am I a slave to the man? A cog in the machine?
Anyways, it just goes on like this. That’s about the sum of the inner workings of my mind these days. So I’ll cut it short.

Are you lost already? And you just started reading this shit again. Not a good start. Let me bring you up to speed. Last time I did this blog on a regular basis I lived in a tiny little cell on the second floor of my parents’ house. Since then I moved to North Buffalo and chilled in a dump on Commonwealth for about six months. Not a bad place, I guess. But in the past couple of weeks I got myself into a yuppy’s dream. A gorgeous downtown place on Delaware with a two-story high ceiling and a loft overlooking the living room. New floors, freshly painted walls, recently installed spot lights in the ceiling, sky lights, etc., etc. Expensive, but the Shumans make it possible for me to just barely afford it.
The Shumans? You mentioned them before. What is this stuff you keep bringing up?
That, chums, is my new job. Well, two-and-a-half months old now, but still new. I am an employee of Shuman Plastics, Inc. in Depew. Or so my business card says. I guess I am physically, but psychologically I’m never really here. In fact, it’s fair to say I abhor this place with a particularly strong discrimination. I'll update you next blog regarding what I actually do.

I've found that the Buffalo Bills are a nasty little pill that is so much easier to swallow when taken with a healthy dose of ambivelence. Once Holcomb got his boring mits on this team I swore to boycott until JP plays. But even when JP plays, I only route for JP. I still don't care what the Bills do. Low-and-behold, sports fans!! The Bills launch themselves into a cataclysmic season of terror, and I'm not angry in the least! In fact ... I THINK ITS FUNNY!!!!! And the best part is this ... they're keeping Mularkey, gauranteeing that I will once again not care one wit with regard to the fate of this team. Here's hoping for another season full of laughs, another season full of boycotting, and another season well below .500.

And thanks whatever-god-may-or-may-not-exist for the Buffalo Sabres. Who thinks they won't win the Cup this year? Come on, speak up! I'm going to stab you!!

Lot's to talk about, virtually nothing accomplished. Good start. Anyways, I'm going to try to keep these shorter this time around. Please leave comments or I'm going to cry.