Live from CityWalk — anything but news!
I knew things were rough when I started listening to KJ103.
Now, I like dance and pop music as much (or even much, much less) than the average guy, but lately I’ve found my radio dial tuned to pounding synth and constant remix channel that is KJ103. Why? Because everything else is so damned depressing.
Everybody complains that there’s too much bad news in the world and the newspapers and TV stations only ever report bad things. Which is complete and total bull, but that’s because nobody is actually reading newspapers or watching TV news — they just need something to say when people talk to them.
But I will admit, I have been getting very depressed when listening to the news lately. Not that the news is so bad, just that all the people involved in the news are so stupid.
For example:
Health Care Reform — It’s going to cost a bunch of money! But people need health care! Can we blame it on the immigrants? No? Let’s scream about it being partisan, then! PARTISAN, PARTISAN, PARTISAN!
The California Economy — There’s no money! Wait, there is money, but we don’t want to take it! Taxes are bad! Services are good! Nobody can make a decision! Can we blame it on the immigrants?
Michael Jackson — Still dead! Can we keep talking about him some more? He had kids! He might have molested children! Who gets the money? He was broke! Let’s blame it on the immigrants!
I want to listen to NPR. I want to be informed. But I just cannot stand to listen to another “balanced” story that involved two people talking back and forth about how the other guy is wrong about everything. And apparently, people still don’t like immigration. Big surprise.
So I’m listening to KJ103. It’s like pouring a milkshake over third-degree burns. I’m sure it’s not doing much to help, but at least it feels good for a little while.
Don’t Be Famous
Michael Jackson. Steve McNair. Karl Malden.
These famous people are all dead. And what can their deaths teach us? Don’t have radical plastic surgery and then spend years eating nothing but narcotics-grade horse tranqs? Don’t have a crazy mistress? Don’t get old?
No. Those are lessons you learn from your parents.
The real thing to learn from this trio and the legion of minor-to-mid-level stars who have passed away recently is this: Don’t Be Famous.
Think of every famous person you’ve ever heard of. Guess what? They’re all dead. Yeah. And you’re killing them just by knowing who they are.
As a science-fabulist, I can tell you that awareness emits a toxin that is both photo- and aural-sensitive. When we know of celebrities, we force their brains to release this toxin. The more people who know about them, the more the toxin gets into their system.
Alone this is bad news, but when combined with other symptoms of fame — excessive picture taking, screaming fans — suddenly, the toxin becomes deadly.
Ever wonder why famous writers live so much longer than famous actors or sports stars? It’s because they only get their picture taken once for the book jacket. Plus, the only screaming they hear comes not from fans, but from dissatisfied spouses.
Of course there are a few celebs who are immune. Paris Hilton has miraculously survived, as have Heidi and Spencer. There’s a theory in the science-fabulist community that being well-known but loathed provides a blood-brain barrier to the toxin. That also explains Kobe Bryant.
So what can you do? For your own safety, remain as un-famous as possible. If you do gain some small measure of fame, do like Joe the Plumber and be as annoying and unloved as possible.
And for the celebrities you do love, the best thing you can do is to stop loving them. Stop watching TMZ. Stop buying OK! magazine. It’s the only way to keep old what’s-her-name and that one dude from dying. You know who I’m talking about.
Bad people die. Bad people can create good things.
In case you were in that special kind of coma where you only miss big news events, like in an SNL sketch or a stupid movie, then here’s some shocking news: Everybody totally forgot that Michael Jackson dangled his baby off a ledge and bought his way out of a child molestation trial.
Oh, and Michael Jackson’s dead. That’s probably important to the story.
The outpouring of love for the now-deceased King of Pop is a little baffling to me. On NPR this morning, I actually heard a reporter ask if “we” had messed him up so much that he molested kids.
Uh…no. No we didn’t. “We” bought his records and went to his concerts and mostly let it slide that he had his whole face removed. “We” didn’t make him a pedophile.
Here’s the thing — it’s OK to talk about what a great musician and dancer he was. Why? Because he was a totally great musician and dancer.
But he wasn’t a saint. Not even a little bit. And dying doesn’t change that.
You know how Jim Morrison was a drunk and an a-hole, but The Doors made some great music? Or how Ty Cobb was a drunk and an a-hole, but he was a great baseball player? Or how I’m a drunk and an a-hole, but…wait…never mind.
The thing is, it’s OK to appreciate the art and not the artist. If you can’t seperate the two, then I’d leave them both alone and move on.
Michael Jackson, I’ll miss your music, which holds up really well 20-plus years later. But you, personally? Not so much.
Fast food restaurants are either trying to kill you or vastly overestimating your healthy eating habits.
I will not lie — I love gimmicky fast food.
While I’ve never eaten a McRib, even on its many comeback tours after playing Europe, Asia and Australia, I have fallen prey to the delicious “limited time” offers from some of our more dubious food sources.
Lately, I’ve been trying to eat better. Partially to AVOID DEATH, but also because I’m a vain, vain man. (How vain? I think this song is about me.)
As such, my fast food intake has dropped precipitously. And when I do get something delivered via drive-thru, it’s a special treat. My wife, knowing how much I love spicy foodstuffs, suggested a trip to Taco Bell for one of their Volcano Burritos.
Let me tell you a funny short story about that: No.
OK, now I’ll expound. I did not eat the Volcano Burrito. Because it’s not a Volcano Bean Burrito or a Volcano Chicken Burrito or even a Volcano Beef Burrito. No, it’s a Volcano DOUBLE BEEF Burrito. And it packs 800 calories and 42 grams of fat.
And when I used to go to Taco Bell, I wouldn’t just get one of those, I’d also get a couple of tacos, maybe a bean burrito and a Coke. Yum. So let’s just go ahead and double those numbers, at least.
Everybody is pushing some new crap these days. McDonald’s has the McCafe drinks, which are just like coffee, except with lots of sugary syrup and whipped cream on top. Burger King has mini-burgers, so you can eat 14 of them! Wendy’s keeps putting bacon on things. KFC has decided to market the “Krusher,” which is a milkshake with a weight problem.
Can you eat these things and still be healthy? Absolutely. You just have to make sure your other meals that day consist of water, spinach and dirt.
Which makes you wonder, what kind of companies would market these products to us? Check with a lawyer, because either Taco Bell thinks you live like a monk EXCEPT when you visit their restaurants, or they have a life insurance policy out on you and they’re trying to make it pay off sooner than later.
Judging by Pizza Hut’s new Pork-n-Cheese crust with gravy inside, my vote is for the latter.
Let’s work on liquor before we get into pot, OK?
Did any of you catch Monday’s Oklahoman? What am I saying, of course you didn’t. You damn kids with your hula hoops and your penny candy and your high-speed Internet access…
Anyway, my illiterati friends, Page 1 sported a story about LEAP (Law Enforcement Against Prohibition) which is pushing for legalized drugs, like marijuana. It was the kind of story that The Oklahoman wouldn’t have run 10 years ago, much less on the front page.
But let’s get beyond “progress,” which is boring, and talk about how backwards Oklahoma still is. You want legalized pot? How about we work on allowing grocery stores to carry liquor and wine?
Actually, as cool as that would be, forget even that. How about we get rid of the distributorship system in Oklahoma? Yeah — let’s get rid of the people who restrict which kinds of alcohol we can get and jack up the prices on the brands they do allow in.
Ever visit another state? Take a look in their liquor stores. Even where the cost of living is higher, their prices are lower, because they can buy their booze from the maker and not have to go through a price-hiking middleman like we do.
So, LEAP, good luck with all that. It’s a little pie-in-the-sky for Oklahomans, though, so I’m focusing my attention on these guys: Oklahomans For Modern Laws.
The newest possibly old, but maybe not, thing
The Internet is a race and I am a perpetual loser. But just because you’re late to the party, doesn’t mean you can’t put on a hat and eat cake. I keep a hat and some cake with me at all times, just in case I go someplace where there was a party recently.
Well, Keyboard Cat got cool and then passe and then cool again before you ever heard of it. Let’s not let that happen again. Instead, I recommend you embrace the newest cool thing on the Electroweb: Garfunkel & Oates.
Me, You and Steve from Erika Lindhome on Vimeo.
Oh, so you’ve already heard of them and liked them from back when they called themselves Ronnie James Dio’s Younger Brother Gavin? Well good for you. I’m just going to slip on this party hat I brought with me and enjoy them now, regardless.
Terrorism starts with MTV
Do you remember back when everything was about terrorism?
Shopping was about terrorism, because you had to go to the mall or the terrorists would win. And NFL football had to go on, because if they didn’t play, then the terrorists would win the Superbowl or something.
Even anti-drug commercials were all about how if you buy pot, the money ends up going back to terrorists who want to blow up your house while you’re baked.
Well, I’ve been thinking about it lately and I’m pretty sure that when I go crazy and commit some unthinkable tragedy, I want you all to start tracing the lines back to MTV and put it in a commercial.
Dude: So what you’re saying is that MTV caused Greg to go crazy and do that thing…
Guy: With the sheep and the shoelaces and the Brian Setzer Orchestra, yeah.
Dude: So, because I watched “The Hills,” that made him…
Guy: Yup. Because if you hadn’t watched “The Hills,” you wouldn’t have known who Heidi and Spencer are.
Dude: And they wouldn’t have been on that “I’m a Celebrity” piece of crap…
Guy: And they wouldn’t have been all over the news when they said they were “tortured” on the show.
Dude: So I guess it really is all my fault.
But don’t worry, folks. If you really want to avert the coming disaster, you can do it. All you have to do is make sure I don’t have to hear another word about those two pampered, idiotic, egotistical and utterly useless sacks of human feces.
Can you have an iPhone and not be an iDouche?
I have seen you, people. I have seen your hats worn purposely askew. I have seen your shirts that look like tattoos. I have seen your hair…oh sweet merciful God, have I seen your hair.
And while I like to think of myself as the kind of guy who judges based on the interior pages of a book — including the glossary and chapter subtitles – and not the book’s cover, that is a lie. When I see you wearing douche-y clothes and douche-y hair, I immediately think you’re a douche.
But what happens when the things I like become hipster d-bag accouterments? Suddenly, I am trapped.
My cell phone plan ends in a few months and the search has begun for a replacement. I was on one of those 12-year plans, so I’m currently rocking an Motorola bag phone, but I’m thinking of upgrading…to an iPhone.
Why? Because I want to check the Internets wherever I am and download applications that make my phone sound like a lightsaber.
The problem is, everytime I go to lunch, there’s a parade of creeps, each on their iPhones. I worry — will an iPhone ruin me? Will I have to buy Affliction clothes? Do I have to do a serious look and throw up a hand sign when someone takes my picture?
Do I have to start tanning?
But then I remember, I know lots of people with iPhones who aren’t douche-tastic. And if they can roll with one of those awesome phones that fits in a pocket and doesn’t require recharging between calls, then so can I.
Still, if you ever see me in a purposefully askew hat or a Flock of Seagulls haircut, do the only honorable, merciful thing and set me on fire. It’s the only way to make sure I don’t pass that douchery on to somebody else.
I love rotting brains
This isn’t a post about me being a zombie, hell-bent on devouring your brains, so don’t worry. Well, it’s not just about me being a zombie, hell-bent on devouring your brains. I mean, I did die once. And the inside of your head is looking pretty succulent.
Anyway…
This is more about the thing that makes brains rot (at least according to Hulu commercials) — TV. And for TV lovers, this is the worst and best and worst-again time of year.
The first worst, of course, is the end of the season. All of our favorite TV shows are going into reruns or, worse still, being replaced by crappy summer reality shows. What is an able-bodied zombie supposed to do with his evenings now that there’s nothing on TV and it’s all pleasant and warm outside? It is a puzzle.
The best is that the networks are doing their “upfronts,” in which they unveil their choices for the next season’s new shows and which shows are coming back. So zombie nerds like me can rejoice that “Dollhouse” and “Chuck” are (improbably) coming back. And new, hopefully awesome stuff like “The Human Target” and “Community” will joining the evening line-ups.
But now it’s also the worst again — shows we love, shows that never really had a chance, are getting cut down in the prime of life. Good-bye “Pushing Daisies.” So long “The Unusuals.” I gave you a chance, but I never really felt like we connected, so I’m not actually that upset that you’re leaving “Terminator: The Sara Conner Chronicles.”
But once this week is over, the upfronts will be done and I’ll go back to being a zombie with too much time on his hands and too little brains dripping down his jowls.
Speaking of…why don’t you take off that hat, baby. Let daddy take a closer look at that hot, throbbing forehead of yours.
My On-Going Feud with the Sun
Did you notice that it’s been raining non-stop for the last 40 years? I mean, I drove today in my ark and it suddenly occurred to me — I know I’ve heard of the sun, but I can’t remember ever actually seeing it.
That’s patently ridiculous, of course, it’s just the way it feels. I’ve been waiting weeks and weeks to put a few plants (read: bodies) in the ground and every time it looks like I’m about to get to, the rain starts up again.
That’s why, when I looked out my office window today and saw the sun shining back at me, I realized that this wasn’t mere happenstance. This is personal.
I’m trying to remember what exactly I did to the sun to get this party started. I think it might have been when I used nuclear weapons and a piece of Superman’s hair to create Nuclear Man, but I’m not sure.
Regardless, I’m certain that as soon as I exit the building today, the rain will have returned, just as I know this weekend will bring a blizzard and possible a famine.
The Sun — he plays for keeps.
