Please ... Do Browse The Following
I sure wish I knew who Sally W. was. How sweet of her to search through thousands and thousands of blogs and finally leave that adorable comment on mine. Because I’m sure she didn’t leave it on anybody else’s. I am touched. Thank you, Sally.
Society:
Mad, extremely mad props given to that Italian politician that wore a t-shirt with the offending Mohammed cartoon on it. I know all these stiffs are crying about being sensitive, but I just can’t fathom wearing a muzzle because head-chopping fascists don’t have a sense of humor. It’s a lousy choice, but I’ll choose dangerous expression over fearful silence any day of the year. It’s one thing to apologize if your cartoon offended an entire religion … it’s another thing to cower and censure yourself because a handful of weirdos are setting buildings on fire and firing machine guns into crowds. Crazy.
Music Part I:
Oh, cripes. Here comes a new album from Guns N’ Roses. That era in rock has faded, my friends, and while they still work as a nostalgia group for parties, they’re not going to cut it 2006 as a contemporary act. Especially if Slash isn’t pitching his weighty lead-guitar efforts into the production. GNR without Slash is like The Jackson Five without Michael. It simply doesn’t compute – nevermind Axl, that ghoulish creep. His vocals are about as enticing as being in a shark attack. I wish them no luck at all, and I hope they flop miserably.
Still no word whatsoever on Petty’s new album, and it’s supposedly coming out this month. Yah right. I’ll expect it to hit stores by 2009.
Better news – The Chili Peppers and The Raconteurs (Jack White’s new band) both are due for new albums in May. That will be interesting. The Raconteurs’ “Steady, As She Goes” single sounds very different from the Stripes, but very catchy. The Chili Peppers will be putting out a double disc (“Stadium Arcadium”) and it will be produced by their longtime chum Rick Rubin, who has produced some damn fine albums in his illustrious career … including “Wildflowers” by Petty and “Californication” and “By the Way” by the Peppers. Bring on May!
Society:
The worst thing about yuppy life is the tedium. I’m hating it. Every day is the same. I get up, stumble grumpily to work, talk on the phone and try to look busy all day, and then I wonder home to read/watch TV/play guitar, and then go to bed so I can do it all again. What is the point of making money if you’re just going to spend it on those things which you’re sick of anyway? This is where people usually say, “That’s life, kid. Grow up. Everybody’s gotta do it.” Thanks, oh wise elders. I’m smart enough to realize this on my own. Doesn’t mean I’m happy about it, and it doesn’t mean that we should all skip happily around and wear bow-ties and give high-fives. All it means is that I’m not the only stupid one … EVERYBODY IS STUPID!! There’s a mantra for you, pallies. Everybody, right down to the last grinning wheat-bread halfwit, is the dumbest person you’ve ever met. And that includes you. If you sit at a desk all day, or drive in a car all day, or talk on the phone all day … if you do the same thing every day whether you want to or not, just so you can lease a nicer car or buy things from Pier 1 Imports to put on your walls … then you are an idiot. If you work to get by and give your kids a good life – god bless you. But if you’re nickel and diming, honing in on that bigger/better deal, all so that you can wear nicer clothes, then you don’t have any guts at all. I don’t either, that’s the point. If I did, I’d go to bartender school and move to Florida, or California, or Hawaii, or Ireland, or wherever I wanted, because everywhere has need of bartenders. Then I’d live in a halfway decent apartment, drive a run down car, and spend my off-time doing what I wanted … which would not include TV and getting a good night’s sleep so I’m fresh for the phones the next day. Yuppies are cowards, bottom line. That’s my rant for the blog. Cliché, sure, but that doesn’t make it less aggrevating when you’re stuck in it.
Sports:
The Bills have lost Sam Adams, and will probably let go of Moulds. Last year I would have an opinion on this … I probably would have said good riddance to Adams and we can live without Moulds, but still a shame. Now, however, I stare blankly and indifferently and stay silent until something that I care about comes up. The Bills simply don’t matter anymore.
Music Part II:
The Black Keys. This name has been tossed around a lot of late in the shady/mysterious circles I travel in. I downloaded the album and listened a few times. “Hmm,” said I. “Not bad. Not bad, but not good. I appreciate them, but I don’t think I’ll put much effort into listening to them.” Well, here’s what I’ve learned since that initial reaction. The album isn’t necessarily great for just playing in your car or at the office. But … last Friday … while we shot pool up in the loft and smoked cigarettes, the eternal Mumbach and I played The Black Keys at fairly high volume levels down on the living room stereo. It is in this situation that “Rubber Factory” becomes a different album altogether. It sounded like live music. Live blues, to be exact. I looked upon it and saw that it was good. Moral of the story – don’t listen to The Black Keys while you work-out or lay around. Listen to them loudly while you are drinking and there is other people around. You will NOT be disappointed.
Politics:
As usual, I have no opinion.
Local News:
It is very nice living so close to Elmwood. I skip merrily down Hodge Rd. and I’m on a halfway decent area of Elmwood. There’s the Elmwood Lounge (which was lame last weekend), and there’s a couple of other bars whose names I can’t remember … but which were very good times indeed. In one of these, if you go to the back and walk upstairs, you can play pool and foosball, which we did. The only drag is there’s a weird, tall black guy with dreads that walks around and says things like “Don’t put your drink down right there, it’s a pool table, not a pool table,” and then comes around three minutes later to say “What I meant to say was don’t put your drink there because it’s not a table, it’s a pool table.”
And you can always hit up Louis for some hot dogs before the walk home. That’s a plus … especially if the eternal Mumbach is with you because there is no end to the fun to be had explaining to the waitresses that he is a savage, and that he was here first. This confuses the waitresses and they hurry about their work with furrowed eyebrows, making annoyed sighs, while trying to figure out if Mumbach is really and Indian or not (he is).
Well – this was a weak blog. I typed it entirely at work, and I’m bored out of my mind – the content of this effort bears that out, I feel. Maybe next week I’ll write something on whale sharks … god knows they’re fun to read about. Until then…
A Presto
Society:
Mad, extremely mad props given to that Italian politician that wore a t-shirt with the offending Mohammed cartoon on it. I know all these stiffs are crying about being sensitive, but I just can’t fathom wearing a muzzle because head-chopping fascists don’t have a sense of humor. It’s a lousy choice, but I’ll choose dangerous expression over fearful silence any day of the year. It’s one thing to apologize if your cartoon offended an entire religion … it’s another thing to cower and censure yourself because a handful of weirdos are setting buildings on fire and firing machine guns into crowds. Crazy.
Music Part I:
Oh, cripes. Here comes a new album from Guns N’ Roses. That era in rock has faded, my friends, and while they still work as a nostalgia group for parties, they’re not going to cut it 2006 as a contemporary act. Especially if Slash isn’t pitching his weighty lead-guitar efforts into the production. GNR without Slash is like The Jackson Five without Michael. It simply doesn’t compute – nevermind Axl, that ghoulish creep. His vocals are about as enticing as being in a shark attack. I wish them no luck at all, and I hope they flop miserably.
Still no word whatsoever on Petty’s new album, and it’s supposedly coming out this month. Yah right. I’ll expect it to hit stores by 2009.
Better news – The Chili Peppers and The Raconteurs (Jack White’s new band) both are due for new albums in May. That will be interesting. The Raconteurs’ “Steady, As She Goes” single sounds very different from the Stripes, but very catchy. The Chili Peppers will be putting out a double disc (“Stadium Arcadium”) and it will be produced by their longtime chum Rick Rubin, who has produced some damn fine albums in his illustrious career … including “Wildflowers” by Petty and “Californication” and “By the Way” by the Peppers. Bring on May!
Society:
The worst thing about yuppy life is the tedium. I’m hating it. Every day is the same. I get up, stumble grumpily to work, talk on the phone and try to look busy all day, and then I wonder home to read/watch TV/play guitar, and then go to bed so I can do it all again. What is the point of making money if you’re just going to spend it on those things which you’re sick of anyway? This is where people usually say, “That’s life, kid. Grow up. Everybody’s gotta do it.” Thanks, oh wise elders. I’m smart enough to realize this on my own. Doesn’t mean I’m happy about it, and it doesn’t mean that we should all skip happily around and wear bow-ties and give high-fives. All it means is that I’m not the only stupid one … EVERYBODY IS STUPID!! There’s a mantra for you, pallies. Everybody, right down to the last grinning wheat-bread halfwit, is the dumbest person you’ve ever met. And that includes you. If you sit at a desk all day, or drive in a car all day, or talk on the phone all day … if you do the same thing every day whether you want to or not, just so you can lease a nicer car or buy things from Pier 1 Imports to put on your walls … then you are an idiot. If you work to get by and give your kids a good life – god bless you. But if you’re nickel and diming, honing in on that bigger/better deal, all so that you can wear nicer clothes, then you don’t have any guts at all. I don’t either, that’s the point. If I did, I’d go to bartender school and move to Florida, or California, or Hawaii, or Ireland, or wherever I wanted, because everywhere has need of bartenders. Then I’d live in a halfway decent apartment, drive a run down car, and spend my off-time doing what I wanted … which would not include TV and getting a good night’s sleep so I’m fresh for the phones the next day. Yuppies are cowards, bottom line. That’s my rant for the blog. Cliché, sure, but that doesn’t make it less aggrevating when you’re stuck in it.
Sports:
The Bills have lost Sam Adams, and will probably let go of Moulds. Last year I would have an opinion on this … I probably would have said good riddance to Adams and we can live without Moulds, but still a shame. Now, however, I stare blankly and indifferently and stay silent until something that I care about comes up. The Bills simply don’t matter anymore.
Music Part II:
The Black Keys. This name has been tossed around a lot of late in the shady/mysterious circles I travel in. I downloaded the album and listened a few times. “Hmm,” said I. “Not bad. Not bad, but not good. I appreciate them, but I don’t think I’ll put much effort into listening to them.” Well, here’s what I’ve learned since that initial reaction. The album isn’t necessarily great for just playing in your car or at the office. But … last Friday … while we shot pool up in the loft and smoked cigarettes, the eternal Mumbach and I played The Black Keys at fairly high volume levels down on the living room stereo. It is in this situation that “Rubber Factory” becomes a different album altogether. It sounded like live music. Live blues, to be exact. I looked upon it and saw that it was good. Moral of the story – don’t listen to The Black Keys while you work-out or lay around. Listen to them loudly while you are drinking and there is other people around. You will NOT be disappointed.
Politics:
As usual, I have no opinion.
Local News:
It is very nice living so close to Elmwood. I skip merrily down Hodge Rd. and I’m on a halfway decent area of Elmwood. There’s the Elmwood Lounge (which was lame last weekend), and there’s a couple of other bars whose names I can’t remember … but which were very good times indeed. In one of these, if you go to the back and walk upstairs, you can play pool and foosball, which we did. The only drag is there’s a weird, tall black guy with dreads that walks around and says things like “Don’t put your drink down right there, it’s a pool table, not a pool table,” and then comes around three minutes later to say “What I meant to say was don’t put your drink there because it’s not a table, it’s a pool table.”
And you can always hit up Louis for some hot dogs before the walk home. That’s a plus … especially if the eternal Mumbach is with you because there is no end to the fun to be had explaining to the waitresses that he is a savage, and that he was here first. This confuses the waitresses and they hurry about their work with furrowed eyebrows, making annoyed sighs, while trying to figure out if Mumbach is really and Indian or not (he is).
Well – this was a weak blog. I typed it entirely at work, and I’m bored out of my mind – the content of this effort bears that out, I feel. Maybe next week I’ll write something on whale sharks … god knows they’re fun to read about. Until then…
A Presto
posted by Il Pazzo @ 5:18 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home