A place called B.L.O.G.

In a typical week, I might see about one or two of those guys who stand by the road with the signs that say “please help, homless Vietnam veteran” or some such thing. But this weekend, I must have driven past 8 to 10 of them. What’s up with that? It seems that every time I exit or enter a freeway, I wind up awkwardly averting my eyes from a downtrodden fellow and his cardboard sign. Is this the delayed impact of Bush’s economic policies? The delayed impact of Clinton’s economic policies? The delayed impact of James K. Polk’s economic policies? Is there a panhandling convention in town? Or is it just nice weather for standing there with a sign?

I’ve never given any of them any money. I don’t know if I should feel guilty about that. Usually I just stare straight ahead and turn down the music. I turn down the music because it doesn’t seem right to be enjoying myself in the presence of a beggar.

Incidentally, today, the guy in the car behind me actually rolled down his window and handed one of these guys some cash. That’s actually the first time I’ve seen anybody give anything to a sign-toting roadside hobo.

Did I ever tell you my idea about the people with the “Will work for food” signs? I think it’d be funny if some corporate recruiter picked one of them up, took him to a big office downtown, set him down in a cubicle, and put him to work sending e-mails, writing mission statements, identifying core competencies, and doing whatever else people who work in cubicles do. Then at the end of the day, he’d give him a bowl of soup for his troubles. I think that would make a good comedy sketch, although the ending is probably pretty predictable. Maybe if it was a couple cases of Pringles that they rolled up on a dolly it would be funnier. What do you think? Is this why I am a newspaper editor and not a comedy writer?

And a “how-do-you-do” to you on this bright summer morn. Sometimes, you just want to say good morning to somebody, you know? Because there’s nobody here at work today, I couldn’t do it verbally, so I must do it in blog form. So, good morning. Even if you are not reading this in the morning, or if you are reading it on an entirely different day, one that does not contain the morning during which I’m writing this, I think the sentiment remains intact: A very good morning to you. May this day treat you well, may you find the road to riches and happiness, and may you always have access to a ready supply of fresh, clean water for all your drinking, bathing and dishwashing needs.

This is about the most pathetic thing ever:

http://www.startribune.com/stories/389/5529908.html

As if we needed any more evidence that the Olympics are now officially more about the corporate sponsorships than they are about the athletes or national pride. Screw them. If I gave a shit about the Olympics in the first place, I’d say I’m now boycotting them, but let’s face it, I’m already inclined to unplug my TV and have the sports section pre-removed from my newspaper during this giant circle-jerk of America’s most powerful corporations.

Music is an art. Artists should be allowed to use whatever words, images or ideas they choose in their names or their songs or their pictures or whatever it is that they create. But no. Some dipshit lawyer representing some dipshit billion-dollar entity gets to tell artists what they can and can’t do. That’s marvelous. I’m going to go puke now.

Derek and I arrived home Sunday night after Lebowski Fest in Louisville, Kentucky. We saw They Might Be Giants (and a great opening act, Corn Mo). We drank White Russians. We watched the movie outdoors with a couple thousand other enthusiastic fans. We bought tee-shirts. We drank oat sodas. We bowled. We played ringer toss. We met the real-life Dude and the guy who played Liam (Jesus’ bowling partner). We drank Kentucky bourbon. We hung out on the roof of the hotel. We saw people in unbelievable costumes. We explored the interstate highways and gas stations of four non-Minnesota states. And, as Donny, I even rolled a couple of strikes and got to exclaim "I’m throwing rocks tonight! Mark it, Dude."

It was wild. I can’t even really do it justice. But I do have pictures, which I’m posting here on Friendster. I don’t know if people can easily find my photos on this site, so here’s the direct link:

http://readmyblogdammit.blogs.friendster.com/photos/lebowski_fest_2005/

OK, who’s going with us next year?

Critics like to make lists. I’m not a critic, but I also like to make lists. Why should critics get all the fun? I will make a list, too. And you will read it. (Or not. Either way’s good.)

Lots of times you’ll see someone make a list of the top 10 albums of the year. My problem is that I often don’t hear an album until a year or two or three (or ten) after it came out. So, I’m going to make a list of the top ten albums I got in the last year. Some are old, some are new. Normally, this kind of stuff is what one would do in December, but I feel like doing it now. Plus, it was about a year ago that I started to acquire music more rapidly than before, so it kind of makes sense.

And, because I feel like it, I’m going to do 16, not 10. I like that number better. I think people place too much emphasis on round numbers.

In any case, I highly recommend these discs. In fact, you should get them all, and then you can tell me how much you hated them and question why you’re my friend.

1. The Unicorns – Who Will Cut Our Hair When We’re Gone

2. The Fiery Furnaces – Gallowsbird’s Bark

3. The Pixies – Surfer Rosa

4. Les Savy Fav – Inches

5. The Futureheads – The Futureheads

6. The Fiery Furnaces – Blueberry Boat

7. The Arcade Fire – Funeral

8. Radiohead – OK Computer

9. Thunderbirds Are Now! – Justamustache

10. Modest Mouse – The Moon and Antarctica

11. The Shins — Oh, Inverted World

12. The Pixies — Come On Pilgrim

13. The Breeders — Pod

14. Radiohead — Kid A

15. Super Furry Animals — Guerilla

16. Neutral Milk Hotel — In the Aeroplane Over the Sea

And, of course, anybody imitating a critic must also do the five worst. Now, I don’t acquire much music that sucks, because that’s stupid. Why add sucky crap to your music collection? But sometimes, I pick wrong. Some of these are decent discs, but they are still the bottom five of my last year. The only one that’s really horrible is #1; the rest either just didn’t grab me as much or are subpar efforts from acts I really like.

1. OK Go – OK Go

2. Broken Social Scene – You Forgot it in People

3. TV on the Radio – Desperate Youth, Bloodthirsty Babes

4. Camper Van Beethoven – New Roman Times

5. The Fiery Furnaces – EP

I got a car. It’s going to sound underwhelming when I tell you about it. It’s 1992 Honda Accord. It’s maroon. It’s got 145,000 miles on it. But it’s in great shape, it’s very clean, and all the mechanical parts seem to be in proper working order. It seems like a given that an Accord will get 200,000 miles or more, so I figure I’m set for five years at least, and that’s really all I needed. I’m not going to car shop again until I can afford to hire a personal car shopper who will do all the footwork for me. As a matter of fact, I’m never going to do anything again until I can afford to pay somebody to do it for me. If you need me, I’ll be in bed.

Please? It’s not that I don’t have the money; I actually got some of that just for this reason. But I don’t like the process of shopping for a car. If you buy me one, you’ll be the one who has to deal with the salespeople, and drive around looking for cars, and call 10 people about the cars they have listed for sale only to find that they already sold them but didn’t bother to take down their ads. Plus, I can then spend the money on something else. Like a new computer. Or pasta. (I like pasta.) Best of all, I’ll be able to blame you if the car breaks down, rather than feeling dumb myself for choosing the wrong car. So, you can see how this is going to be a very good deal for me. OK. I’m going to be pretty busy Sunday and Monday, but if you want to stop by on Tuesday to drop off the car, that’s good. And I like green cars, just so you know. Thanks.

Every time there is a hurricane, I see headlines that say “Hurricane Georgio takes aim at Gulf Coast” or “Hurricane LaFawnduh takes aim at Cuba.” All right. I’ve accepted that somebody decided it would be cute to name the hurricanes. Fine. It helps us keep track of which one is which. But that doesn’t mean we should be ascribing human traits to them. They are not “taking aim” at anything. “Taking aim” is something you purposefully do; it’s premeditated. It’s what a marksman does before firing a gun. It requires the ability to consciously choose a target. It’s not what a huge storm does. Does anybody think there’s a brain floating somewhere in the eye of the hurricane, thinking to itself, “Gee, I sure bet it’d be fun to slam the shit out of the Dominican Republic. I’m going to steer over that way. Those grass huts are TOAST!” No? Didn’t think so. So please, headline writers of the world, stop saying a hurricane is “taking aim.” “Headed for” or “bearing down on” or “Expected to hit” or any number of alternatives would suffice. Thank you.

I have the fun of getting Comedy Central, at least until the 3-month promotional rate from Comcast runs out. For the past 3 or 4 nights, I’ve turned it on during the Daily Show. It’s been the same damn episode every time. This is news from like two weeks ago now. What? People, it’s called the Daily Show, as in "a new one every day." Please, either stop replaying the old ones or change the name to the "Whenever We Feel Like Making a New One Show."

Have you ever seen that one X-Files where there are the aliens? OK, that’s like asking if you saw the Gilligan’s Island where they were on the island. But there was one in particular where the aliens came and grabbed those teenagers out of the car, then they were attacked by a third alien (Lord Kimbote, we later learn), and it turns out the first aliens were these government agents wearing alien suits all along, and nobody really knows who the third alien is, except for the crazy guy who says the alien lives deep down in the Earth’s molten core, but then the Men in Black come, and it’s Jesse Ventura and Alex Trebek? And nobody can figure out what really happened, and they keep peeling back more layers of the story? Remember that one? That one rocked. And there’s that awesome scene where Mulder goes into the diner and starts ordering pie and asking the proprietor all these questions with each new slice.

I had that on tape. It was a tape that also had a bunch of Simpsons episodes on it. I lent it to Derek and kind of forgot about it. But the other day (couch day) I took it back and I watched that episode again. It was good stuff.

The best part is the whole theme about how truth is subjective. All these different characters in the show experienced the same basic set of events, but they all came away with different interpretations. "Truth is as subjective as reality," Jose Chung says at one point. And in the end, there are no firm answers, just a stew of perceptions and very few verifiable facts. Just like real life. Which is more than you can usually say about the X-Files.