Listening Back

(listening to: a few songs from each album listed below)

It's that time of year again. The time when everywhere you look somebody's giving you some sort of recap of the past year. Shoving the new nostalgia down your throats like it's some sort of panacea (look it up) that you've been waiting desperately for. The bastards.

Well, we here at Manifest Destiny aren't going to stand for it, and we will be doing nothing of the sort. After today. Probably.

I was talking with Neola earlier today, and she asked me if I'd made my top 10 list of 2005 albums yet. I hadn't, but of course, it got me thinking (and obsessing), so then I did. And here it is.

My Top Ten Albums of 2005:
10. Ryan Adams & The Cardinals - Cold Roses. This 2-disc set, in my opinion (and really, am I worried about anyone else's right now?) is his best work since his solo debut, Heartbreaker, but still not quite as good as the now defunct Whiskeytown's work with Adams at the helm. He's got a real talent for songwriting, and he's a really talented musician, but man, is he a horrible live performer. We saw him at Austin City Limits festival in 2004, and he was so f'ed up that he kept messing up his own songs! He's prolific enough (this was the first of 3 albums he put out this year!) that he could probably put out about 20 or so albums in the next couple of years, but unfortunately, he's just unstable enough to disappear completely after that, grow a Rip Van Winkle beard and live as a beach hermit somewhere until he's about 65, then show up out of nowhere to help Luke learn the ways of the force. Wait, that was Ben Kenobi. Oh, what the hell. I'm partial to Bens.

9. Coldplay - X&Y. Yeah, that's right, I put a Coldplay album in my top ten. So, maybe I am a wuss. I don't care, this is a good record, and who cares if Chris Martin is married to the beautiful Gwyneth Paltrow and has a healthy baby, the dude can flat out sing a depressing song, and it's no secret that I'm a sucker for depressing songs. I really like "Fix You" despite the fact that it's been in all of the King Kong commercials (yet appears nowhere in the actual movie). For my money, until "The Next U2" turns into "The Next Radiohead," if they put out a record, it'll most likely land in my top ten.

8. Franz Ferdinand - You Could Have It So Much Better. This was the second album from these guys. Their first one (self-titled) was like a supernova, man, they were hotter than Hansel, and he is SO hot right now. It was awesome. This one is not as good, but is still good enough to be awesome, proving that they're not a flash in the pan. (Sort of like Interpol's sophomore offering, Antics.) Unfortunately, we missed seeing these guys at ACL last year, but we heard from friends that they were the best performance of the weekend. I don't doubt it. I'd imagine that I might need a Red Bull before one of their shows, b/c I don't dance - I hate it and think it's stupid most of the time - but these dudes just make me want to dance.

7. The Decemberists - Picaresque. This one is probably the biggest surprise out of the group. I had never even heard of this band until about two weeks ago, and I read an interview with them in "The Big Takeover" (which is, without exaggeration, the BEST music magazine I have ever seen. No fluff, no crap like Rolling Stone, they don't cover politics b/c they feel like they have to. They cover music b/c they are a music magazine. Cover to cover, every issue. I absorb every word. Even the editorials are great. Even the letters to the editor are great. Buy a copy, please. Or subscribe. It's only 20 bucks, that gets you four issues which come out about twice a year.). Anyway, it was an incredibly interesting interview, and the band sounded like one I might really like. Fortunately, this coincided nicely with my discovery of a free 50 downloads trial at eMusic, which doesn't have much of a selection, but guess what they did have? If you guessed this album, then you are clearly a genius. So, I downloaded the album for free, and I've probably listened to it about 20 times (no exaggeration) since. It's awesome. I LOVE finding new music. Thanks, Big Takeover!

6. Sleater-Kinney - The Woods. There aren't too many bands out there that rock harder than these chicks, and there are even fewer that do so with a Jewish guitarist/piano player. I don't have much that they've put out, but I've got a few, and this one measures up for sure. These chicks rock so hard they make me feel like I've rocked hard, and I don't think I have. Stay away if you don't like angry, loud music. If you like angry, loud music, come over to my place and we'll turn the speakers up to 11.

5. The White Stripes - Get Behind Me Satan. This is one that I liked, but didn't love, when I got it back in May, but man, did it grow on me. I still like this one more everytime I listen to it. Neola brought up a very good point while praising Jack White as "a gift to songwriting (I think those were her words)" in that he really does a phenomenal job of making this two-person garage band sound like a five-person ass-kicking powerhouse.

4. Ben Folds - Songs For Silverman. I don't know who Silverman is, but whoever he or she is, they got one hell of a record. Two of the best breakup songs in recent memory in "Give Judy My Notice" and "Landed," which is basically Billy Joel-good as a piano tune. Considering the fact that I didn't even know this record was coming out and only saw it by accident when I went to pick up Bruce Springsteen's Devils & Dust back in April then ended up liking this one about 1,000 times better, then yeah, I'll put this in my top ten, hands down. I also tend to gravitate toward anyone named Ben (see also: Ben Gibbard of Death Cab for Cutie, below).

3. Bright Eyes - I'm Wide Awake It's Morning. I don't know if this is a better record than all but two of the records that came out this year, but what I do know is, I sure liked it more than most of the records that have come out in the past year or more, and I listened to the hell out of it. This is what I said about it in a previous post. I thought it was worth reprinting here.

"This is one of the best albums I've gotten in years. I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that it might be one of the top 10 or 20 albums that I have ever owned. Conor Oberst is a better songwriter than most people out there who started making records after he was born. I think he's about 25. Yeah, one of the best songwriters of the past 25 years. I think I feel comfortable with that statement. He's in an elite group, and some of the other members are dead, so he really doesn't have much competition. This album effortlessly transports you to New York City and keeps you in good company during your angst-ridden nighttime journey. Bonus points for writing a song about an actual protest rally that caused such a major traffic jam that I actually got stuck in it and missed my bus to Boston one afternoon. That's not something I can say very often, that something immortalized in song, or in film, actually affected me when it happened."

2. Death Cab for Cutie - Plans. This is a damn good record, and I am going to exaggerate a little and say that this record will probably be responsible for making a few people's lives a little better (and I'm not talking about the band members). It's just that good, that calming. These dudes are just that in touch with their fans, I think, that for some people out there, they made a record that is the perfect record, and it's going to have that kind of effect on somebody somewhere.

1. Wilco - Kicking Television. Of course, I'm a little biased here, but that notwithstanding, this is a great live record to release. Their performances (judging by the four times I've seen them live) have been getting steadily better since I first saw them 3 years ago, and this record is good evidence that in the 10 months since I saw them last, they have continued to do so. It's quite possible that I like their music more than anyone in the world likes their music. I know that makes me sound like some sort of psycho stalker, but I'm really not.

Honorable Mention:
Gorillaz - Demon Days. That one song, "Feel Good, Inc." gets stuck in my head every couple of days, and it's impossible for me to hear anything else. That's pretty much the only reason I'm putting it here, other than the fact that it's pretty cool that this isn't even a real band, just a creation of some DJs and a good cartoonist.
Echo and the Bunnymen - Siberia. This is a pretty good album, but I'm not sure if it's good enough to make my top ten, especially since I've only been listening to it for about a week. I don't have any of their older stuff, but I'd love to check it out. This release sounds like it was heavily influenced by U2, which is exactly the opposite of what I imagine was the case 25 years ago when they both started putting out records.
Kanye West - Late Registration. Too much hype, combined with not enough of what made his first album great. I liked it a lot, but not enough to give it top ten props.
Bruce Springsteen - Devils & Dust. This makes the honorable mention list for the simple fact that when I got it earlier in the year, I hated it and pretty much decided not to listen to it again. Then one day, I popped it in out of sheer curiosity, and I really enjoyed it. Again, not more than the ten records that are on that list, but certainly enough to give it a shout here.
Better Than Ezra - Before The Robots. This one's not a bad album, not nearly as good as any of their first four, but probably better than the last one they put out in 2001. Bonus points for finally releasing the song "Hollow," which I had downloaded a live version of back in 2000 and instantly became one of my favorite songs of theirs. Now, hopefully, they'll start playing it at more shows.

Albums I haven't listened to but would probably be good enough to at least crack my Honorable Mention category, if not my Top Ten:
Fiona Apple - Extraordinary Machine
The New Pornographers - Twin Cinema
Turin Brakes - Jackinabox
Paul McCartney - Chaos and Creation in the Backyard
Common -Be
My Morning Jacket - Z
Nickel Creek - Why Should The Fire Die?
Ryan Adams - Jacksonville City Nights

Selling Out, Volume Two

Recognize this guy?



No? Maybe you remember how he used to look. Before he sold his soul to the devil.



Yeah, Johnny Damon rejected the offer of salary arbitration from the Red Sox, his beloved team, his band of merry idiots, not to mention the town that deified him, gave him ultimate superstar status, and signed with the New York Yankees. The Evil Empire. The pricks in the pinstripes. Now, there's nothing wrong with what the Yankees did here (other than the fact that they did it while lighting their cigars with $1,000 bills after killing a bunch of puppies). They signed a guy who hits like a son of a bitch and can run pretty fast. He's probably the premiere lead-off man in major league baseball. Hell, they could afford him, why not go for it?? Who did they have playing center as of 3 days ago? Bernie Williams. Now, I like Bernie Williams. I have always liked Bernie Williams. For years, Bernie's been the only Yankee I have liked. He just seems like the kind of guy who you could be at a cookout with, and when he gets up from the table, you could say, "Hey, Bernie, will you get me another beer?" He'd just smile and say, "Sure, man." Good guy. Probably.

Anyway, the fault here lies with the Red Sox, for not working harder to keep him around, and with Damon himself, for fleeing for greener pastures and greener pockets after spending the past few years EMBODYING the spirit and camaraderie of the Red Sox. Was it all an act?? Was the whole thing just a big facade (pronounced fuh-KAYD)?? He "wrote" a f'ing BOOK, for crying out loud!!! It was in his book deal that he couldn't shave his beard or cut his hair. Now he's wearing a pink bathrobe (seriously, take another look at that pink robe up there. it's hilarious and really sad at the same time. but mostly hilarious.) after getting a facial and probably a pedicure while he's at it?? Jesus! No, Judas!!

This was the email that I sent in response to Ilyssa's "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO" the other day (and I stand by my thoughts and feelings at the time, as they have not changed in the past 2 days):

i know, this is pretty ridiculous. the worst part is, this is bringing out some bad qualities in me.

i'm hoping for abysmal numbers, run-ins with asshole new yorkers that might end up in front of a jury of his peers, a high profile divorce after his plastic wife (who joins juwanna kidd as the hot new york athlete's wife who probably is exerting more behind the scenes pressure to go to/stay in new york than we really know about) gets caught on video and posted on some amateur porn website screwing some B&T (no offense) dude after being dosed at some U2 after-party at park bar.

but really, i'm not bitter.

now i understand how bostonians felt when clemens left. i never did, until now. and i refused (and still refuse) to dislike clemens because of it, but i do understand.

I just don't know, man. We lose that crazy bastard Manny Ramirez and we're gonna be eating the shit we're already neck-deep in after losing Theo, Damon, Millar and Mueller. At least we got rid of Edgar "30 errors" Renteria.

Music Is My Savior, I Was Named by Rock and Roll

I've been slacking. I am sorry. Let's start fresh.

This past weekend Amanda and I went to Las Vegas with her business school group, sort of a post-finals thing, and I spent some time talking to the boyfriend of one of her classmates, who has probably the coolest job of anyone I've met out here so far, or maybe anyone I've ever personally met. He's the equipment manager for Green Day. He's been friends with the band for 15 years, and he's been working with them for 10. He goes on tour with them, goes into the studio with them, hangs out with them. Really nice guy, and once Amanda told me what he did, I was immediately struck by the urge to annoy the crap out of him (well, hopefully I wasn't annoying, but who really likes talking about work when they're in Vegas??) by asking all kinds of questions and just talking music in general. I'm a huge fan of their last album, "American Idiot," and we spent a bit of time talking about that album (evidently he gets a pretty darn sizable cut of each CD sold, so the 8 million copies it's sold have given him a nice cushion). I tried not to kiss his ass too much, since I don't like kissing ass, and also since he didn't actually write any of the songs or play any of the instruments, but we got to talking about how the album is really an album, rather than just a collection of songs that most albums are these days.

The album as a collective work seems to be a lost art, but American Idiot is one of the best examples of that in recent history. The kind of album where the individual songs are good, but the whole thing together just makes so much sense and flows so well that you can't really listen to the songs individually anymore. In fact, if there were more than 2 or 3 good radio stations in LA, I'd probably change the channel when "Jesus of Suburbia" comes on roughly every 45 seconds, but unfortunately, there's just not much in the way of options to change to.

There are a handful of other albums that have come out lately, in the past year or two, that fit this mold. The mold established by The Beatles with "Rubber Soul" (my favorite, and possibly the first example of a concept album of all time) and "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Heart's Club Band", by Pink Floyd with "The Wall", and by Bob Dylan with "Blonde on Blonde."

The new group of albums as collective works, rather than collections of songs, includes some new artists, some old artists, and some unlikely artists. I think that other than Green Day's American Idiot, the best examples of this type of album include the following (feel free to disagree or add to the list - I LOVE discussing this type of thing):

Death Cab For Cutie, "Plans" This was a ballsy major-label debut from one of the most deified indie bands of all time, and it's getting mixed reviews because some (maybe many?) shortsighted fans have put too much emphasis on the independent factor. It's not like they went out and collectively married Renee Zellweger, for crying out loud. They just made a great record that's going to be much more easily distributed, reaching many more people and hopefully expanding their already exponentially expanding fan base even more exponentially.

Brian Wilson, "Smile" This is one that I absolutely can not listen to any individual tracks without listening to the entire album. Probably the best example of the whole being greater than the sum of its parts that I have EVER seen. The tracks by themselves are good but not great, but the album is just mind-blowingly good. Never fails to put me in a really, really good mood.

Jay-Z, The Black Album Before you tell me how preposterous it might look to see a rapper's CD on this list of great recent albums, let me just tell you that if you don't think there's the possibility for this quality in all types of music, then you have no business listening to music. You don't have to like it, but you have to know it can be, and sometimes is, there. This album was, in a word, awesome. Shy of the perfection he achieved with The Blueprint, but awesome nonetheless. Pretty much summed up his entire career, or even his entire life, and so far has proven to really be his farewell to the industry. It's been, what, 2 years since he put out a record? That makes "My 1st Song (very well-titled, being the album's closing track)" sound that much more credible. Not that he really needed the help in the credibility department.

Bruce Springsteen, "Devils & Dust" This one took some time to grow on me. At first, I was very disappointed, hoping for some solid rockin, like that live version of "Youngstown" from the "Live in New York"concert, but this is just a great example of storytelling, and listening to it really gives you the sense that you're sort of travelling America. Bonus points for The Boss earning a "Parental Advisory: Explicit Lyrics" tag for a detailed account of a night with a hooker.

Kanye West, The College Dropout His second album that "dropped" this fall, Late Registration, is good, but not nearly as good as his first one. The College Dropout not only flows, but it all makes sense, it sticks with the central theme. It also makes me want to strut when I listen to it while walking down the street. I'm not a fan of the "skits" in most rap albums, because they usually take up space that could be filled with, I don't know, music?, but the skits in this album are not only pretty funny, they help hold it all together at the seams. They are the seams. The skits are the seams of this record. The songs are damn good, too.

Bright Eyes, "I'm Wide Awake It's Morning" This is one of the best albums I've gotten in years. I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that it might be one of the top 10 or 20 albums that I have ever owned. Conor Oberst is a better songwriter than most people out there who started making records after he was born. I think he's about 25. Yeah, one of the best songwriters of the past 25 years. I think I feel comfortable with that statement. He's in an elite group, and some of the other members are dead, so he really doesn't have much competition. This album effortlessly transports you to New York City and keeps you in good company during your angst-ridden nighttime journey. Bonus points for writing a song about an actual protest rally that caused such a major traffic jam that I actually got stuck in it and missed my bus to Boston one afternoon. That's not something I can say very often, that something immortalized in song, or in film, actually affected me when it happened.

Elliott Smith, From a Basement on a Hill Posthumously released, this record was probably the most artful and beautiful suicide note of all time that was subsequently sold to millions of people. His music was always dark, and his songwriting was always depressingly vivid, and this one's not necessarily any more so (except for "Kings Crossing" which I could listen to over and over and get chills each time - that line, "I can't prepare for death anymore than I already have" - oooohhh), but the fact that there's no way for this to not be his last album makes it seem that much more morbid. His songwriting was largely unrivaled (joined by Oberst and a scant few others) yet sorely underappreciated. If there's an afterlife, Elliott Smith might be hanging out with Kurt Cobain and John Lennon somewhere, but the odds might be better that he's with the likes of Hemmingway, Faulkner, and Twain. He was just that good.

Thanks for letting me ramble. Like I said, if you want to add or subtract from this list, please do so in the comments section. I'll be more than happy to get into this with you.

The Best That Cable Has To Offer

I was watching TV earlier, and checking out what was coming on later tonight, and I came upon this as the description of Chris Rock: Never Scared, on one of the 37 HBO channels:

"The Emmy-winning comic brings his unique brand of edgy humor back to TV. He's expected to riff on sex, drugs, war, class and relationships. (2004) (Comedy)."

Expected to?? It says right there in the description that this show was from 2004. What kind of lazy bastards does Comcast Cable have working for them that they can't even provide a decent description for a show that's over a year old?? Its not like they're being asked to predict what's going to happen on next week's Headline News. It already happened!!

Up next, on ESPN Classic: A replay of the Detroit Pistons/Indiana Pacers game from November 2004. The teams are expected to play a game of basketball, and they will probably do so in a very sportsmanlike manner.

The Man, The Myth, The Legend

The other day I got an email forward from my buddy Ziggy. Normally, I'm on record against most forwards, but since he doesn't forward emails very often (or maybe ever?), I checked it out, and let me tell you, this was damn funny. It was so funny that I felt obliged to post it here for your reading pleasure (and b/c I couldn't think of anything else to write about but wanted to write about something). Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you...

The Top 31 Chuck Norris Facts

1. Chuck Norris' tears cure cancer. Too bad he has never cried.

2. When Chuck Norris plays Oregon Trail his family does not die from cholera or dysentery, but rather roundhouse kicks to the face. He also requires no wagon, since he carries the oxen, axels, and buffalo meat on his back. He always makes it to Oregon before you.

3. Rather than being birthed like a normal child, Chuck Norris instead decided to punch his way out of his mother's womb. Shortly thereafter he grew a beard.

4. Chuck Norris recently had the idea to sell his urine as a canned beverage. We know this beverage as Red Bull.

5. Chuck Norris built a time machine and went back in time to stop the JFK assassination. As Oswald shot, Chuck met all three bullets with his beard, deflecting them. JFK's head exploded out of sheer amazement.

6. Chuck Norris's girlfriend once asked him how much wood a woodchuck could chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood. He then shouted, "HOW DARE YOU RHYME IN THE PRESENCE OF CHUCK NORRIS!" and ripped out her throat. Holding his girlfriend's bloody throat in his hand he bellowed, "Don't fuck with Chuck!" Two years and five months later he realized the irony of this statement and laughed so hard that anyone within a hundred mile radius of the blast went deaf.

7. Chuck Norris sold his soul to the devil for his rugged good looks and unparalleled martial arts ability. Shortly after the transaction was finalized, Chuck roundhouse kicked the devil in the face and took his soul back. The devil, who appreciates irony, couldn't stay mad and admitted he should have seen it coming. They now play poker every second Wednesday of the month.

8. To prove it isn't that big of a deal to beat cancer. Chuck Norris smoked 15 cartons of cigarettes a day for 2 years and aquired 7 different kinds of cancer only to rid them from his body by flexing for 30 minutes. Beat that, Lance Armstrong.

9. The original theme for the Transformers was "Chuck Norris -- more than meets the eye, Chuck Norris -- robot in disguise," and starred Chuck Norris as Texas Ranger who defended the Earth from drug-dealing Decepticons and could turn into a pickup. This was far too much awesome for a single show, however, so it was divided.

10. Chuck Norris was the fourth Wiseman. He brought baby Jesus the gift of "beard". Jesus wore it proudly to his dying day. The other Wisemen, jealous of Jesus' obvious gift favoritism, used their combined influence to have Chuck omitted from the Bible. Shortly after all three died of roundhouse kick related deaths.

11. Chuck Norris lives by only one rule: No fat Chicks.

12. When Chuck Norris's wife burned the turkey one Thanksgiving, Chuck said, "Don't worry about it honey," and went into his backyard. He came back five minutes later with a live turkey, ate it whole, and when he threw it up a few seconds later it was fully cooked and came with cranberry sauce. When his wife asked him how he had done it, he gave her a roundhouse kick to the face and said, "Never question Chuck Norris."

13. Chuck Norris once shot a German plane down with his finger, by yelling, "Bang!"

14. A man once asked Chuck Norris if his real name is "Charles". Chuck Norris did not respond, he simply stared at him until he exploded.

15. Chuck Norris does not sleep. He waits.

16. Chuck Norris can make a woman climax by simply pointing at her and saying "booya".

17. Chuck Norris once went to a frat party, and proceeded to roundhouse every popped collar in sight. He then drank three kegs and shit on their floor, just because he's Chuck Norris.

18. Before each filming of Walker: Texas Ranger, Chuck Norris is injected with five times the lethal dose of elephant tranquilzer. This is, of course, to limit his strength and mobility, in an attempt to lower the fatality rate of the actors he fights.

19. Chuck Norris took my virginity, and he will sure as hell take yours. If you're thinking to yourself, "That's impossible, I already lost my virginity.", then you are dead wrong.

20. Chuck Norris found out about Conan O'Brien's lever that shows clips from "Walker: Texas Ranger" and is working on a way to make it show clips of Norris having sex with Conan's wife.

21. The chief export of Chuck Norris is pain.

22. Chuck Norris doesn't have normal white blood cells like you and I. His have a small black ring around them. This signifies that they are black belts in every form of martial arts and they roundhouse kick the shit out of viruses. That's why Chuck Norris never gets ill.

23. Chuck Norris frequently signs up for beginner karate classes, just so he can "accidentally" beat the shit out of little kids.

24. Chuck Norris once tried to sue Burger King after they refused to put razor wire in his Whopper Jr., insisting that that actually is "his" way.

25. One of the greatest cover-ups of the last century was the fact that Hitler did not commit suicide in his bunker, but was in fact tea-bagged to death by Chuck Norris.

26. Chuck Norris punched a woman in the vagina when she didn't give him exact change.

27. Chuck Norris is currently suing NBC, claiming Law and Order are trademark names for his left and right legs.

28. After much debate, President Truman decided to drop the atomic bomb on Hiroshima rather than the alternative of sending Chuck Norris. His reasoning? It was more "humane".

29. If you can see Chuck Norris, he can see you. If you can't see Chuck Norris you may be only seconds away from death.

30. Chuck Norris ruins the endings of Harry Potter books for children who just bought one for the hell of it. When they start crying Chuck Norris calmly says, "I'll give you something to cry about," and roundhouse kicks them in the face.

31.Chuck Norris is immortal.

YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE TRUTH!!!

Granted, he's a madman, but doesn't just look extra crazy in this picture??



Granted, he's a madman, but doesn't just look extra crazy in this picture??

Every Rose Has Its Horns

Well, about 5 hours or so after I made the last post, Amanda found out that she got 2 tickets to the Rose Bowl through USC's lottery. So, I'M GOING TO THE ROSE BOWL. I don't think it's possible for me to be more excited. I've never been so excited for a sporting event in my life as I am for this. Possibly for anything. This could very well be one of the most hyped college football games of all time, and with good reason. The reason: I'm going. I'M GOING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Seriously, I've been numb with excitement for 2 straight days. I can barely get any work done or think about anything else. I thought about wearing burnt orange from now until gameday, but I reconsidered, because I was afraid even I'd be sick of it after a month. So instead, this week I instituted "Texas Mondays." Every Monday from now until game time, I will be wearing some sort of Texas paraphernalia. This town is so in love with USC and Matt Leinart, I'm hoping to shake things up a bit. In theory. I'm theoretically shaking things up.

BRING IT ON

Texas walloped Colorado on Saturday to the tune of 70-3, to win the Big 12 Championship and clinch a spot in the National Championship Rose Bowl game, against USC on January 4. It remains to be seen whether or not I will be able to get a ticket to the game, but rest assured that I am going to do everything in my power, and my powers are substantial.

That said, we are presented with another fabulous opportunity for my semi-annual facial hair growth, which I have presently titled (that's right, I'm giving titles to my facial hair - this is what it's like in LA, I guess) the "Rose Bowl Beard." Needless to say, Amanda's not thrilled, but she'll have to learn to live with this one, at least until January 5, when, win or lose, I will be shaving. But not until then.

Expect a lot of Texas-related posts in the coming weeks, I guess. There's going to be a lot of hype for this game, and I'm not one to go against the grain on such matters. Other matters, maybe, but not this such matter. I think this is what I'll be doing on January 3. If anyone wants to come to LA and join me, please let me know.

Santa Barbara Wining and Dining

Ok, so here's the Santa Barbara recap:

Friday morning after Thanksgiving, Amanda and I set sail (in the car, not in a boat) for Santa Barbara. We figured that, having been together for over 3 years and never taken a vacation together, we were entitled to one.

First stop was the Old Mission Santa Barbara, the "Queen of the Missions." Established in 1786, it was the 10th of the California missions founded by the Spanish Franciscans. The 11th mission was to recover the NOC list and was referred to as "Job 3-14." Many of the mission's buildings were damaged by earthquakes, but were restored in the 1920s and 1950s. The mission had a rose garden on its land, and I've already been made fun of for saying it was beautiful, but you know what? Screw it, it was beautiful, so take that, sucka. Don't believe me, see for yourself.



Friday afternoon we walked around downtown (I think it was downtown), on State Street down by the beach. We had lunch at this Indian restaurant where this jackass at the table next to us was loudly explaining to his son or stepson why his refusal to try new foods was making life hell for everyone. Amanda was getting pissed, but it was a buffet, so if that kid didn't want to eat, it was fine with me. Then we did a little shopping. I picked up INXS's "Listen Like Theives" at a used CD store, and we walked down to the pier and back. While Amanda was shopping for some jewlery, I sat on a bench and waited for her. It wasn't a total loss, though, because Sipowitz walked past me. You haven't lived until you've seen Sipowitz walking down the mean streets of Santa Barbara. Dinner was at Brophy Bros. Seafood, and I had a shark sandwich. A shark sandwich! I felt like such a badass. I don't have a picture of the shark sandwich, but I do have a picture of some bird looking at me.



Saturday was the main event. I am, of course, referring to the U2 cover band we saw that night, but before I get to that, let's talk about all of the wine we drank while touring and tasting at a bunch of vineyards. THIS was fun. First we hit the Fess Parker. Fess Parker used to play Davy Crockett on the big screen, but now he has a vineyard. A pretty good one, too. I bought a bottle of his Frontier Red, mainly because, as Amanda observed, I like the label. Next stop was the Firestone Vineyard, as in Firestone Tires. Brooks Firestone, the grandson of the tire guy, didn't like selling tires, and started a vineyard. Amanda and I liked the Riesling at Firestone, and bought a bottle to drink with our lunch. We lucked out that day, b/c when we showed up for our tour, our tour guide was none other than Mr. Firestone himself. He was pretty funny, and willing to pose for a picture, so here we are.



We also hit the Curtis Winery, which is a sister vineyard to Firestone. They had some good stuff. I liked the Mourvedre (mo-VED), which was some sort of Merlot-based blend. Now, rest assured, I'm not turning into some sort of wine snob. The only difference between me now and me a week ago is that now I know exactly what it is that I can't afford to buy. After Curtis, we went to the Andrew Murray vineyard, which was having an open house and giving tastes of 9 wines instead of the standard 5 or 6, so that was a pretty sweet bonus. They also had finger food, which was a HUGE bonus. After Andrew Murray, we went to the little town of Los Olivos and hit a couple of tasting rooms. I think our favorite was Epiphany. I wanted to buy a t-shirt, but they didn't have the one I liked in my size. We liked the "Revelation" wine they had there, but at over 20 bucks a bottle, that's a prime example of knowing what I can't afford.



We then went next door to the "Mad Dog" tasting room. For 50 cents, we got to drink all the wine we wanted, and we bought a few bottles for around 3 dollars apiece. (That was a joke.)

Los Olivos was really nice, but there wasn't much to do there but drink wine and buy art, and the tasting rooms closed around 5 or so, and I wasn't about to start buying art, so we headed back to Santa Barbara, and we finished our dinner just in time to catch Electrical Storm, the U2 tribute band. Let me tell you, these dudes were hilarious.



You can see from this picture that they were dressed like the band. That's "Bono" and "The Edge" in the picture, I couldn't get "Larry Mullen Jr." and "Adam Clayton" in the shot. Not only did they dress like U2, I'm pretty sure the lead singer actually thought he was Bono. He was speaking in a bad Irish accent all night, and he was even dancing like Bono, bowing down to "the Edge's" guitar during solos. The craziest thing was that the place was packed to the tune of about 75-80% with senior citizens. It was really funny to see them dancing around to music they probably had never heard before, trying not to pop a hip. Hilarity ensued, but that aside, the band was actually pretty good. They really did justice to the songs, playing them pretty well for being a bunch of impostors.

Sunday morning before we came back to LA, we went on a trail ride at the Circle Bar B Ranch. That's right. Horses. It was an hour and a half ride (read: walk) through the mountains, and it was a ton of fun. The scenery was AWESOME. Just sitting on the horse was fun. I felt like I was in City Slickers, except I was wearing a Red Sox cap instead of a Mets cap.

All in all, it was a GREAT weekend, and Amanda and I thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. If anybody wants to come visit us out here, we'll take you up to wine country. I could definitely go back there once or twice a year. Now, in conclusion, here's a picture of me on my horse, Hershey. Y'all come back now.

Lisa Diane Tilley-Newman Has A Blog

Is a blogger from Boston a "bloggah"??

I'd like to be the first (well, probably not the first, but who cares, it's an expression) to welcome my friend Lisa to the world of blogging. I like when my friends have blogs, it makes me feel like less of a high-schooler, my addiction to The O.C. notwithstanding. Anyway, it's great - she's a bit of a Bon Jovi freak, but who among us doesn't have some sort of semi-embarassing addiction (see aforementioned O.C. reference)?? Also, by the looks of things, she might be ... a liberal. I've definitely made my journey leftward over the past few years, but she was doing it WAY before it was the in-thing. Take that, Al Franken.

Her blog is now forever (or at least until my 2 1/2 years are up, I was just wondering this afternoon what I'm going to do when that happens...) linked at the left, joining Neola, Ziggy, me & Jeremy, The Roommate, and Dana as my friends that have blogs. She gets the top spot, because it's the newest one, and because I've known her the longest. We used to swing together at recess in first grade. (PS - her husband's a stud. Only guy I know who can jump from quoting Fletch to Pee Wee's Big Adventure to The Breakfast Club in the same breath while lining up for a putt.) There are a few other noteworthy blogs over there as well, but I'm not exactly friends with Mark Cuban, I just like his blog.

Who else out there has a blog that they're not telling us about?? It's ok, don't be shy. You can tell me.

Oh, and one other thing. You may have noticed that I took off the Red Cross thing to donate to Hurricane Katrina relief. That's not because I'm a douche. It's because at this point (or ever, really), I just don't think the Red Cross is getting too many donations as a result of my blog. Not that I don't think I make a difference in people's lives in other areas (I shudder to think what some folks' lives might be like without my semi-regular ramblings about the O.C. or my fantasy football team). Anyway, I hope I didn't offend anyone by taking that down, it was just time.

I Believe In America...

That's the first line from what movie? Anybody know?

So, I just popped into this little Persian market down the street from my apartment on my way home from work to pick up some hummus, pita, falafel, etc. for my Sunday School class this weekend, and I'm in the checkout lane and as she's ringing up my stuff I notice a sign that says "cash only." I asked her, "Do you not have that little thing to swipe the card?" and I did a little swiping motion with my hand. She smiled and said, in a thick accent, "Of course we do. This is America."

Is that what the world thinks of us? Even people who LIVE HERE??

The funny thing is (hopefully), I had about 40 bucks in my pocket, but I swiped my card anyway. I'm not going to be the one to break the stereotype and ruin it for the rest of the country.

Doctor, My Eyes

I really wanted to write tonight about the trip to Santa Barbara that Amanda and I took this weekend, but I'm not really feeling too well, and my eyes really hurt (which is sort of freaking me out), so I'm just gonna say this.

Texas sure played like crap on Friday, but we still managed to put up 40 points, and we're 11-0 heading into this weekend's Big 12 championship game against Colorado, who we pounded 42-17 earlier this season. That's all that's standing in our way until we meet (hopefully) USC for the national championship on January 4 at the Rose Bowl.

Check back on January 5, by the way, for pictures of the celebration.

(If we happen to lose Saturday, don't mention it to me. I'll likely be VERY unstable, and probably in tears.)

Strike First, Strike Hard, No Mercy Sir!

College basketball season is upon us, and Texas has started the season ranked #2. That seems to have worked out pretty well for our football team, so let's hope it translates for the basketball team as well.

This is Brad Buckman. He's a senior forward for the Longhorns, and he's been my favorite player since his freshman year when we went to the Final 4 and lost to Syracuse, who ultimately ended up winning the whole thing. In that game, our "star" player, T.J. Ford, played scared and was never able to turn into the player we all thought he was. We had no upperclassmen leadership on the floor, and we lost to a better team, led by soon to be multimillionaire freshman Carmelo Anthony. Buckman was the only Longhorn playing his heart out late in the game, grabbing every rebound that came his way, and diving for loose balls (sounds like my buddy Jeremy's prom night - I know, I need to stop making that joke, especially since I stole it in the first place), and I've been impressed with him ever since. I checked our schedule today, and we have an astounding 18 GAMES on tv this season, and I'm gonna watch them all, or at least try to watch them all.

Also, in honor of Brad Buckman's senior year, I'm going to post Buckman's line for each game here in the blog, just for the hell of it. I can't help it, I'm gonna miss him in the burnt orange next year.

Tonight, we opened against the Southern Jaguars. Buckman's line was as follows:

16 points on 6-for-9 shooting, 2-for-2 from the 3 point line, 4 rebounds, 2 assists, 2 blocks (yeah, boy!), and 1 steal. 2 turnovers.

Look out for this kid, he f'ing rocks. Also, doesn't he look just like Billy Zabka, the guy who plays Johnny in the Karate Kid?





Speaking of F'ING ROCKS, I just picked up the new live Wilco album, Kicking Television. It is unbelievable. There's a decent chance I like this band more than anyone in the world likes this band, but as unbiased as I can be, I can tell you that this album is great. Check out some of the songs here on their website. You will not be disappointed, unless you only like crappy music.

Friday Night Lite

It's been awhile since I posted with any semblance of regularity, and I'm going to try to rectify that now, if for no other reason than the fact that it just gave me a good excuse to use the word "rectify."

When I first moved here, I was sitting at home all day watching TV and posting on this blog. About a month ago, I got a job, so I haven't been home with hours on end to kill in this manner. I don't really want to get in the habit of posting while I'm at work, for reasons that seem to escape some people I know, and truthfully, when I get home at night, I'm usually too tired to sit at the computer and try to think of something funny to say. I work in a law firm, it's not like I'm out fighting fires or building houses, but let's face it, I tire easily. That's a secret to no one.

This weekend, though, Amanda is in Canada and The Roommate is in Cincinnati, so I've got the house to myself, the computer to myself, and more importantly, the TV to myself. So, with a case of Diet Coke, The Roommate's newly purchased seasons 1 and 2 of The West Wing, and a Tivo box that is literally 99% full, I figured this was a GREAT opportunity to catch up on a ton of TV, mainly the shows that I've been putting off watching for some reason.

This is what I watched tonight. Friday night. Sitting in my apartment in scrubs and a sweatshirt. Please, hold your applause. Really, it's quite unnecessary.

Reunion (1 hr.)
This was last week's episode. I'll get to this week's in a bit. I learned that 1989 was a crazy year. I learned that people in Seattle wore flannel in 1989, and that the movie Hudson Hawk was supposed to be a HUGE hit. I wish I were kidding when I say that I saw that movie three times in the theater, on its opening weekend. I think I contributed to about 15-20% of its box office take. I also learned that women in 1989 used much much less hairspray than they did in 1988, at least according to the show's writers. Also, judging by this episode, the most successful music act in 1989 were the Fine Young Cannibals.

Numbers (1 hr.)
This is the single best show that I can't believe is still on TV. (This is different from the single best show that is no longer on TV, which, as of today, goes to Arrested Development. If it weren't for The OC, Reunion, Family Guy, and the Simpsons, I'd probably boycott the Fox network all together.) It doesn't really have a single quality that you would want in a hit TV show. Here's the premise: it's about an FBI agent (Fleischmann from Northern Exposure) who gets help solving crimes from his brother, who is a math teacher. Their father is Judd Hirsch. It takes place in LA, though Fleischmann inexplicably speaks with a New York accent. Also, the math teacher has a colleague who also teaches math who also helps him solve crimes for the FBI, played by Peter McNichol, who is better known as either The Biscuit from Ally McBeal or the squirrelly guy from Ghostbusters 2. An esteemed career, to be sure. This dude plays such an over the top dorky character that the only thing he's missing is a pocket protector and tape on his glasses. And glasses. Oh, and I forgot to mention that the plot of each episode is incredibly far-fetched (even more than the math teacher out-sleuthing the feds), and the dialogue is completely ridiculous. And in spite of all of this (or possibly because of all of this), I can't get enough.

Reunion (1 hr.)
This week's episode. 1990. A time of innocence, evidenced by the nanny (who may or may not be a murderer) sleeping with the abusive, newly separated adopted dad of her best friend's illegitimate baby whose real, unknowing father is an ex-con preacher (who may or may not be a murderer). Is there anything else that really needs to be said here? Ahh, the joys of Fox programming.

The O.C. (1 hr.)
Ok, we're back. THIS was a good one. It all starts with Marissa waking up in bed with Summer, which is certainly the right foot to lead with. The shameless plug for Peter Gallagher's new blues CD was, well, shameless, but that's what we LOVE about Fox programming. (Entertainment Weekly gave the CD an F, by the way. I think they were probably being generous.) This Chilly (or is it Chili, or maybe Chile?) character at Marissa's new school is awesome. Ho. Ly. Cow. Aryan Antagonist Taylor Townsend has one smokin hot mom. This show is great. I don't get the whole surfing thing, though. I mean, I get it, I understand it's a sport that people like, I just don't get it. It's like hockey. Some people like it, I guess, but I just have no use for it. At least surfing doesn't waste valuable Sports Center minutes. I'd also like to announce that I'm over the Jeri Ryan era on this show. At first it all seemed to work out, she was conniving and she wore a lot of tank tops. Now, it just seems forced. Enough already. At least give her a tank top. We haven't seen her in one since like the third episode of the season.

Numbers (1 hr.)
Man. I'm starting to feel a little fatigued, entering my 5th straight hour of TV. This one started with Fleischmann, his math teacher brother, and their over the top dorky friend playing, of all things, frisbee golf. I don't think I've played frisbee golf since I was in college. That's going to have to change. I like being outside, but I'm not going to wander around aimlessly. I like "competing," but I really like NOT exerting myself unnecessarily. Is there a better combination of the two? Well, other than actual golf, I mean. But I have a feeling frisbee golf is much, much cheaper. Seriously, how is this show still on the air and Arrested Development got the boot?? This show sucks. I love it.

I think it's probably a good idea for me to get some sleep. All this TV watching, man, I'm all tuckered out.

Selling Out

There are two fairly widely understood definitions for selling out.

In one instance, there might be a limited number of seats, or tickets, to an event, or a finite number of Harry Potter books at Borders. When all of them have been sold, the event, or the bookstore, is considered a sellout. That is a good thing.

The other isn't really as good. Wikipedia (And, really, if you haven't yet discovered Wikipedia, here's your chance. It's a pretty f'ing amazing online encyclopedia that seems to know EVERYTHING. I mean, just check out that table of contents for "selling out." I'm almost speechless.) defines selling out as follows:

"Broadly speaking, it refers to the compromising of one's integrity in exchange for money or other personal gain. It is commonly associated with attempts to increase mass appeal or acceptability to mainstream society. A person who does this is labelled a sellout."

So, to use the term in an example that demonstrates both of the definitions at the same time, I would offer the following statement:

The Rolling Stones are some of the biggest sellouts of the last ten years.

Now that we're all straight on the double entendre, let me get to my point. When I was 19, I got my first car. I lived in Mississippi, it had Mississippi plates. I spent four years in Texas, with Mississippi plates on my car. I lived in New York for over two years, and while my car didn't really run for most of that time, it sat in Ross's mom's driveway with Mississippi plates. I've been in LA for 3 months, and yesterday I put California plates on my car. It made me pretty sad, actually. On the one hand, I guess I'm in less danger of being pulled over now, but on the other, I feel like I've just done something against my will. Actually, the two hours I spent at the DMV yesterday in somewhat hostage-like conditions REALLY made me feel like I was doing something against my will. At one point I was expecting someone to hand me a copy of the LA Times to hold in the picture they were going to send to my parents.

Anyway, my car's got California plates, but I've still got my Mississippi driver's license, which means two things: I haven't completely sold out yet, and there's another miserable visit to the DMV sometime in the near future.

Football Good, Football Bad

(listening to: Come Pick Me Up, Ryan Adams)

We'll start with the good.

TEXAS IS NUMBER ONE IN THE BCS STANDINGS!!! Somehow (maybe because we kick ASS!), we overtook USC by .0007 to take the lead in the BCS standings. We're still a healthy #2 in the polls, but I'll take the lead in the BCS with a runner-up in the AP. I'll also continue to keep my fingers crossed for the Horns to make their way out to Pasadena for a January 4 appearance. My fingers have been crossed for so long, by the way, they're starting to meld together, like Oswald Cobblepot in the crappy Batman movie. I've also stopped shaving, but I think that's less of a superstitious thing than it is just an "I really hate shaving" thing.

In other news, does anyone want to buy a fantasy football team?? I can get you one at a rate. After a fierce 3-0 start in which I scored 110, 124 and 128 points, I had an early bye week and came back weakened, going 0-3, scoring 71, 37 and 77 points. This week, my two leading scorers were my kicker and my defense, for crying out loud!! What is wrong with these guys?? They're just not trying their hardest. They don't seem to understand what it takes to win. Yes, dammit, I know I'm talking about a fake team. I'm matched up against The Wolf this week, and this is make it or break it. I'm 3-3 and The Wolf is in the driver's seat with a 5-1 record.

Luckily, my team isn't the most pathetic in our league. Fred, who was in first place until this week, managed to score 9 points this weekend. He'll probably break into double digits tonight, as long as Curtis Martin manages to have at least 10 yards rushing, but then again, LaDanian was held to only 7 yards rushing yesterday, so you never know.

Luckily, everybody makes the playoffs.

But, hey, have I mentioned that Texas is NUMERO UNO in the BCS??

On Tour

Last Saturday morning, while Ole Miss was giving Bama fans a scare before finally losing on a last second field goal, Amanda and I were on a guided architectural tour of downtown LA, which turned out to focus on about two square blocks, but since it was free, I would definitely say it was worth it. I even learned a few things.





Things I Learned While on a Guided Architectural Tour of Downtown LA:
1. The colorful glass pyramid on top of the downtown branch of the Los Angeles Public Library was originally designed to be a dome, but since it was built in 1922, they changed it to a pyramid to capitalize on the popularity of all things Egyptian following the King Tut discovery. Somehow, I managed to forget to take a picture of that.

2. The Biltmore Hotel in Los Angeles has absolutely no association whatsoever to the Biltmore Estate in North Carolina. They just named it that because they wanted people to think it was fancy. That doesn't sound too kosher to me.




3. The Subway Terminal Building, which is no longer a subway terminal and is being converted into high-end luxury condos, was once used to house something like 300,000 pounds of Saltine crackers in the late 1950's (I think), in case of a nuclear threat. They aren't there anymore. They were moved to somewhere in Utah. I'm not even making that up.




4. I learned that when you meet a couple wearing University of Michigan shirts, they probably went to Michigan. I learned that when you make small talk with them during your guided architectural tour of downtown LA, you can say things like "Big game against Penn State today," and they will probably respond "Did you go to Michigan?" I learned that when you say, "No, I went to Texas," a few seconds will pass as they remember the Rose Bowl loss to Texas before they say "Oh," and then it's best just to smile and enjoy the architecture.

If anyone wants to see more pictures, leave a comment and I will email you the ophoto album.

First Name Guys

(listening to: The Rising, Bruce)

Today's the third day in a row that it poured in Los Angeles. That just seems wrong.

So, I was watching the Astros game a few days ago with The Roommate (clarification: Amanda and I have a third roommate, as I may have mentioned before. His name is Josh, but for purposes of this blog, I'm going with The Roommate. No disrespect intended.), and the atrocious announcers (it was probably one of Joe Morgan's games) were talking about Roger Clemens, and they kept calling him "Roger," like they know him. The Roommate pointed out how that's just wrong, athletes should be referred to by last name as a rule, and I agree with him on this. That got me thinking, though, about the First Name Guys, the guys who everybody, or most people, call by their first names, and everybody knows who they're talking about. Roger Clemens is not a "Roger," he's a "Clemens." I don't think anyone would disagree with me here (primarily because it's such a stupid topic to spend more than 2.5 seconds on, but hey, these are the kind of things that keep me up at night). And I'm not talking about nicknames, like "Tiger" or "Rocket." I'm talking about actual first names, or parts of first names, like nobody would argue with me that my name's not Ben, even though Ben is short for Benjamin. Also, it has to be an easily associated name. Like, Joe. Joe who? Joe Montana, Joe Namath, Joe Frazier?? Doesn't work.

Inevitably, I started making a list of First Name Guys, then some of them sort of grouped themselves together on their own. For instance, the Boston Red Sox have 3 immediate First Name Guys in their recent history with Pedro (Martinez), Manny (Ramirez) and Nomar (Garciaparra). Nobody refers to them by their last names. Ever. Next come the Los Angeles Lakers, with 4 FNG's in Shaq(uille O'Neal), Kobe (Bryant), Kareem (Abdul-Jabaar) and Wilt (Chaimberlain). Maybe even a fifth with Phil (Jackson), but I just don't think so. Interestingly enough, the Manning family has their own category of FNG'ers with Archie, Peyton and Eli. (Maybe that's just because I'm biased, as a Southerner, but you say those names in just about any of the Red States, and people know EXACTLY who you mean. Sorry, but Cooper just doesn't make it.)

Other than those ready-made groups, I've also come up with the following FNG'ers: LeBron (James), Hakeem (Olajuwon), Rudy (did that guy even HAVE a last name??), Deuce (McAllister - again, could be the Southern bias), Deion (Sanders), Manu (Ginobli), and (Domi)Nique (Wilkins).

Honorable Mentions go to possible FNG'ers such as Emmett (Smith), Tino (Martinez), LaVar (Arrington), LaDanian (Tomlinson - would have been a lock if he hadn't stolen LT from Lawrence Taylor. I will NOT call him LT.), Tiki (Barber), and Ricky (Williams - again, it all depends on who you're talking to, I guess, but if I mention Ricky to anyone who knows me, they know who I'm talking about.) In that regard, Vince (Young) and Jamaal (Charles) are well on their way to becoming first ballot FNG'ers, as long as they keep playing like they mean it. Major (Applewhite) had it. The other guy didn't.

Of course, this extends beyond the realm of sports. In music, you've got Ringo (Starr), Jerry (Garcia), Bruce (Springsteen), and even Madonna (whatever her last 4 names are, I can't remenber them and don't feel like looking them up). Maybe even Britney (Spears). I'd argue for Jimi (Hendrix), but there are those who would refute that with Jimmy (Page), so who knows. Nicknames like Sting and Bono don't even come close to counting. You could make the argument that if Ringo is an FNG'er, than John (Lennon), Paul (McCartney) and George (Harrison) should be as well, but I just don't think they hold up on their own as well as they did when the four are together. The same can certainly be said for their music.

I can't think of anyone in television and movies who deserves FNG status as much as Jack (Nicholson), but you also have guys like Jay (Leno), Dave (Letterman) and my favorite, Conan (O'Brien), along with everybody's favorite daytime titans Regis (Philbin), Oprah (Winfrey) and Ellen (DeGeneres). I guess you could also give FNG status to the man that hates everybody, Chevy (Chase), although that's not his real name, so screw him. Also, morphing from the entertainment industry into the political arena, you've got Arnold (Schwarzenneger). From there you can grab Condi (Rice), Erskin (Bowles - that's for you, Jeremy), Strom (Thurmond), and delve back into history with our friends Abe (Lincoln) and Mao (Tse-Tung).

Like I said, these are the things that get inside my head and I'm stuck with until I get them out. If anybody can think of anyone I left off, please leave me a comment and let me know.

PS - I just thought of a few more: Herschel (Walker) and Isiah (Thomas).

CAN YOU DIG IT??

Well, the Red Sox are down 2 games to the White Sox in a best of 5 series, which doesn't bode well, however, they did come back last year against the Yankees and win 4 in a row, and they did come back against the A's 2 years ago and win 3 in a row, so I guess they're not out of it yet. I can guarantee you that on Friday afternoon, between the hours of 1:19 p.m., PST (why do baseball games start at the most ass-backward times??) and 4:19-ish, I will be virtually unavailable on my cell phone. Please, Andrea, if you're reading this, don't call me then. Any other time is great, but not then.

Andrea, my sister, who has proven herself the smartest of the three of us by moving to Maui 4 years ago and almost never looking back, has quite a history of jinxing sporting events for me. The most egregious example of this happened back in the Spring of 1998 - I was a senior in college and she a freshman, and Ole Miss was playing Valparaiso in the NCAA tournament. We (the Rebs) were up by 4 with like 0:48 left in the game, when Andrea calls me and says something to the effect of, "They're gonna win, they're gonna win!!"

I immediately yelled at her for taunting the Sports Gods, told her in no uncertain terms (which she repeatedly ignores) to NEVER do that again, and hung up the phone, in the hopes of making amends for my younger sister's transgression. The Sports Gods were not swayed by my ex post facto loyalty, and following this, SEC Player of the Year Ansu Sesay missed four straight free-throws, including two with 0:04 left on the clock, Ole Miss up by two. Valpo then inbounds the ball to Bryce Drew (son of coach Homer Drew - DOH!), and he dribbles almost the length of the floor and hits a 3-pointer at the buzzer to win the game. Normally, since that fateful day, I try not to answer Andrea's calls during big games. She's got uncanny timing.

Anyway, she called again today, in the 5th inning, Red Sox up 4-2, and I was excited to hear from her, momentarily forgetting my "No Calls From Andrea During Big Games" rule, and answered the phone. "Hey!" I said, to which she responded, "Hey, how are you??" to which I responded, "SHIT!" because it was at that exact moment that Tadahito Iguchi of the White Sox hit a three-run homer to put the Pale Hose ahead 5-4, which remained the score until the end of the game.

I only have myself to blame.


If there is anything, however, that could make me feel better about the Sox loss today, it is this:

The Warriors - The Ultimate Director's Cut (you're gonna have to scroll down just a bit after you click on this to get the full effect)

Came out yesterday, and I just found out about it. I'm getting numb just thinking about it. All new special features, behind the scenes stuff, the works. I don't think there is any commentary track, but I could be wrong, and who really cares anyway. All I can say is, Neola, Tommy, Karen, Brandy, Robert, Mac, you get yourselves to Los Angeles, and I mean right quick.

Be lookin' good, Warriors. All the way back to Coney. You hear me babies? Good.

Unscheduled Maintenance

I just watched this week's "OC" and wrote a pretty darn funny post about it, which was instantly lost when I hit the "publish" button because of this website's un-fucking-scheduled maintenance, so not only are you not going to be able to read it, I certainly am not going to recreate the entire fucking thing, nor could I if I wanted to.

Sorry about the fucking language. I'm pissed.

Lovely Rita, Meter Maid

Nothing can come between us...

This is Dad's account of his and Mom's evacuation from Houston last week, when Hurricane Rita hit. It is a great story, and it made me laugh out loud at more than a few parts. Mostly because I can actually picture him sitting at his computer writing it, singing along to the lyrics he included and bouncing around in his chair (or, more likely, the couch.). Hopefully it'll work for you as well, with or without the visualization. I have reposted it here in its entirety, with his permission.

___________________________________________________________________

NOT SO RANDOM THOUGHTS ABOUT HURRICANE RITA, OR HOW I EXPERIENCED THE EXODUS FROM EGYPT.

Hurricane Rita developed just three weeks after Hurricane Katrina destroyed parts of southeast Louisiana and the Mississippi Gulf Coast. Katrina did such a complete job of destruction that virtually the entire city of New Orleans evacuated – almost half of the residents of the greater New Orleans area came to Houston. When Hurricane Rita came across the Florida Keys into the Gulf of Mexico and was forecast to land near Galveston, Texas as a category 5 storm, Houston residents made and executed evacuation plans. Fortunately for Houston, but not for Beaumont, Port Arthur, Lake Charles and Cameron, Louisiana, Rita turned north and missed Houston almost completely. But the evacuation of Houston is the story I want to tell. Our story is not unique – some were better, some were worse, but this is our story.

Wednesday, September 21 was the day we decided to make plans to shut the synagogue down for the duration of the hurricane. That this occurred less than two weeks before Rosh Hashanah only added to our stress. Wednesday was the last day of school and the last day of normal office operations. Thursday morning we completed securing the synagogue and school, including moving more than 40 s’frei Torah and our white High Holiday mantles into the attic, collecting all Siddurim (prayer books) and Chumashim (Bibles) and storing them on tables, disconnecting all computers and electrical equipment and placing them on desktops and covering everything with plastic. We did a double tape back-up of our computer data so we could take each of the two copies in different directions. Our recently completed (one year ago) expansion and renovation had added a lot of storefront glass doors and windows – we decided we could not board all of this up, but we did board up the front entrance doors near the main sanctuary.

Robin and I initially thought about staying in Houston. Two weeks ago we moved into a three story, solidly built townhouse, so we could have easily stayed safe and dry, but the house is in a low area that has a tendency to flood a little – how much in a strong hurricane was unknown. But even though the house is four feet above the street and we would have easily been ok on the second or third story of the house, I didn’t want to be stuck there without power (read that – no air conditioning in 100 degree heat!). And I didn’t want to leave our cars in a low area to be flooded. So we decided to leave. We both filled up our gas tanks on Wednesday.

“Hello, Muddah…hello, Faddah…here we are at…Camp Grenada…”[1] We were initially going to leave Houston for Camp Young Judea in Wimberley, Texas, not far from San Antonio, about 180 miles west of Houston. Robin works in the office for CYJ and the camp director was opening the camp for people to take shelter. Wednesday afternoon I looked at the projected path of the storm, and at that time it was projected to make landfall near Matagorda, Texas, about 70 miles south of Houston and then track west and north through central Texas, right through San Antonio and Austin. Move right into the storm and stay at a camp in wood cabins in a low lying area? I don’t think so! My Momma didn’t raise no dummy! So we thought about going east, to Jackson or Gulfport, Mississippi where we have great friends. The drive to Mississippi would take 7 to 8 hours under normal conditions, so I checked with Southwest Airlines, but they were all booked up for flights to Jackson and New Orleans. I decided that if we were leaving, I needed to be closer than 7 or 8 hours by car. Also, the latest projection for landfall had moved to 60 miles EAST of Houston, not 70 miles south. So we decided to go to Austin – a 190 mile trip to the northwest – to stay with friends in a sturdy house (as opposed to the wooden cabins at CYJ). “Oh, you got to have frieeends, the feeling’s oh so strong. You got to have frieeends, to make that day last long.”[2] Besides I knew that our friends’ home had air conditioning and TV – Penn State was playing Northwestern in their Big Ten opener on ESPN2, and even though Penn State has been something short of a powerhouse in recent years, both teams opened the season 3-0 and had something to prove. I DO still bleed blue, even though I must admit my exuberance and confidence in the team and Joepa are down. “Fight on State! Fight on State! Strike your gait and win.”[3] So Austin it would be.

But first we had to secure our house. Not having lived there but for two weeks and not having experienced any flooding or heavy rains (heck, it hadn’t even rained at all in the two weeks we were there), we didn’t really know how high to move things, so we planned for the worst. We ended up moving nearly EVERYTHING to the second and third floors – all of our dry goods, bottled water to sustain us upon our return, clothes in the closet, our collections of menorahs and Wedgwood, pictures, books, golf clubs, most of our furniture – even the dining room table. The only things remaining on the first floor were furniture pieces too heavy for the two of us to move ourselves – the dining room breakfront, the living room couch, two living room end tables, my recliner, and the big TV. It was like we moved out just after moving in, but without the movers. We finally got to bed at about 2 am.

Thursday morning I went to the office at about 7 am. At about 10:30 we finished securing the synagogue. Robin came over and parked her car in the synagogue lot. The synagogue is reasonably high and did not take on any water during the floods of Tropical Storm Allison in 2001 – the worst flooding Houston had even experienced. The car had a full tank of gas and was loaded with water and food.

“Westbound and down, loaded up and truckin’. We’re gonna do what they say can’t be done…”[4] They were right – it couldn’t be done! We left town at 10:45 am. Robin started driving. I would eventually take a little nap. There are two main routes to Austin – Interstate 10/State Highway 71, and State Highway 290. Radio reports about traffic on both routes were bad. Even worse, though, were the reports on Interstate 45 north to Dallas. It’s a good thing we weren’t going there – reports were that it was taking 24 hours (normally 4)! I figured that Austin – normally a 2-1/2 to 3 hour ride (“…a three hour tour, a three hour tour…”)[5] – might take around 12. We had heard that just getting to Katy -- 20 miles to the west on I-10 was taking 6 hours. Knowing from experience that even on good days traffic on Interstate 10 going west from Houston to Katy was heavy, I decided to chance going south (actually west) on Highway 59 to Beltway 8 north to I-10, hopefully cutting out SOME of the worst traffic. All in all, and in hindsight, I think this was a good move. Traffic on Highway 59 was light all the way to the Beltway. We picked up the Beltway going north, and as I went up the access ramp I saw it was virtually a parking lot, so I crossed over the grass back to the frontage road. We stayed on the frontage road all the way to the entrance before the interstate, where we re-entered Highway 8, about 1-1/2 miles from I-10.

“I am a man of constant sorrow. I’ve seen trouble all my day.”[6] Then things got bad. Highway 8 approaching Interstate 10 was really a parking lot. There were two reasons for this – (1) the beltway intersection with the interstate reduced from six lanes to two, and (2) then you had to merge onto I-10, on which traffic wasn’t moving. This mile and a half took about 2 hours! Incredible! At this point we heard that TXDOT was opening the southbound lanes of I-45 to northbound traffic – the so-called “contraflow”. But even with that the northbound traffic wasn’t moving at all. Why TXDOT didn’t think of this a day ahead was unbelievable, but nobody ever accused the state government officials of ANY state of being the brightest kids on the block. I figured, though, that if they were opening “contraflow” on I-45 going north to Dallas, they would do the same thing on I-10 going west to San Antonio. I was right – they did establish a “contraflow” on I-10, but the only access to it was from the HOV lane – a single lane for high occupancy vehicles (3 or more passengers). Trouble was, you couldn’t get on the HOV lane unless you were already on it (you could get off, but that wasn’t very smart). So we watched with frustration as the traffic in the “contraflow” lanes moved along at 60+ miles per hour while we averaged 3 to 4 miles per hour at best. Smart officials!!! So we spent the time not moving more that we were moving, listening to traffic reports that went from bad to worse (no gas to be had), worrying if the car would overheat (“When you’re hot, you’re hot”[7]) and eventually run out of gas before we got to Austin. During one lengthy stop in the middle of the road, Robin and I switched places. “Back in the saddle again. Out where a friend is a friend…”[8]

Well, eventually we got to the Katy Mills Outlet Mall about 9 hours after leaving – normally about a 40 minute trip at worst. At this point I saw an opening to crossover to the “eastbound” lanes that were opened to westbound traffic. I had to backup into the normal HOV exit lane and cross into the “contraflow” – a “no-brainer” if there ever was one. What a difference – “flying” down the interstate at 65 miles per hour. Trouble was, it only lasted about 5 or 10 minutes before traffic backed up again (necking down from 4 lanes to 2). And now I was worried about how I would get off the interstate onto Highway 71 – if we ever would make it that far. There’s a rest area near Brookshire, about 5 miles past Katy. I thought that might be the opportunity to cross back over to the westbound lanes so I could exit onto Highway 71 at Columbus – whenever we would get there. I also thought that the rest area might be a decent place to take care of some personal bodily business. It was already almost 12 hours since we left. I saw an opening to re-cross the median and took it. It was still a half-mile or more to the rest area – only another 30 minutes! We eventually made it, pulled in to the rest area which was double-lined with cars. No toilet facilities, so we made our own. “Why don’t we do it in the road.”[9] Major relief!

“On the road again: Just can't wait to get on the road again. The life I love is makin' music with my friends, and I can't wait to get on the road again.”[10] Back on the highway, we sped down the highway at a max speed of 10 miles per hour, but mostly less than 5. Now I’m worried about the traffic on Highway 71 – is it just as bad as Interstate 10, better, or G-d forbid, worse? The next exit was Sealy. There was a truck stop. I pulled off, not really expecting to find gas, but figured it was worth checking. There must have been 300 cars and trucks in the lot. I thought I’d get a Coke – they were out – SURPRISE! So I bought a Dr. Pepper for me and a Sprite for Robin.

“And comin’ off the line when the light turns green. Well she blows ’em outta the water like you never seen. I get pushed out of shape and it’s hard to steer, when I get rubber in all four gears. She’s my little deuce coupe, you don’t know what I got.”[11] Back to the highway, or close to it. As we peeled out of the Sealy truck stop at a NASCAR-like 3 miles per hour, I decided to stay on the frontage road instead of the Interstate proper. I actually thought I might recognize a road that would take me north a few miles and then cut west to Highway 71 something north of Columbus.

“…and all the Jag could see were my six taillights.”[12] At this point I glanced up at the three lanes of westbound traffic – all you could see were red taillights. Thousands of red taillights. Two to three million people leaving Houston to get away from Hurricane Rita. Barely enough time to fill the car with gas, food and water and hit the road. To escape the wrath of Hurricane Rita. Some even thought about turning around and going back to Houston.

As I pictured this, I thought of the Children of Israel leaving Egypt. “When Israel was in Egypt land…”[13] Two to two and a half million people leaving Egypt the morning after the Angel of Death passed over the houses of the Israelites, killing the first-born of the Egyptians. Barely enough time to grab the matzah and run. In a hurry, a big hurry. To escape the wrath of Pharaoh. And after they left, many had thoughts about returning to Egypt.

What is this? A parallel concept! Two million leaving Egypt in a hurry. Two million leaving Houston in a hurry. No time for collecting food and water. No time for waiting for the bread to rise. People leaving their homes, losing their tempers in the congestion of the moment, complaining about this and that. People leaving their homes, losing their tempers in the congestion of the moment, complaining about this and that.

But eventually we made it to Columbus and Highway 71. Surprisingly the road was almost completely empty; everyone else going straight on to San Antonio. Being able to drive the posted speed limit (65 miles per hour), making it to Austin at 5:30 am, still with gas in the tank. 19 hours to make a 3 hour drive.

A little sleep. Shabbat dinner (kosher) with good friends. “I get by with a little help from my friends. Mm, I get high with a little help from my friends. Mm, gonna try with a little help from my friends, with a little help from my friends.”[14] Penn State beats Northwestern with a game-ending drive to start the season 4-0 and win their Big Ten opener for the first time in 6 years. “Hail! To the Lion, loyal and true. Hail! Alma Mater, with your white and blue.”[15] Drive home to Houston, in only 4 hours. “Goin’ back to Houston, Houston, Houston.”[16] No power; no air conditioning. Dayeinu!

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The footnotes are his, and they are at the bottom of this post. Dad reads this blog at least semi-regularly, so if you want to leave comments on his story, please do so below.

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[1] Alan Sherman, “Camp Grenada”

[2] Mark Klingman and Buzzy Linhart, “Friends”, as sung by Bette Midler

[3] “Fight on State”, author unknown

[4] With apologies to Jerry Reed, “Eastbound and Down” from “Smokey and the Bandit”

[5] George Wyle and Sherwood Shwartz, “The Ballad of Gilligan’s Island"

[6] Dan Tyminski, “I am a Man of Constant Sorrow”

[7] Jerry Reed, “When You’re Hot, You’re Hot”

[8] Gene Autry, “Back in the Saddle Again”

[9] John Lennon and Paul McCartney, “Why Don’t We Do It in the Road”

[10] Willie Nelson, “On the Road Again”

[11] Brian Wilson and Roger Christian, “Little Deuce Coupe”

[12] Jan Berry, Roger Christian, Artie Kornfeld, Brian Wilson, “Dead Man’s Curve”

[13] “Let My People Go”

[14] John Lennon and Paul McCartney, “With a Little Help from my Friends”

[15] James A. Leyden, “Hail to the Lion”

[16] “Houston”