Today's quote is an attempt at an original quote since everytime I find a good quote I don't write it down, and thus never have a quote for an update. Note, despite the date this all took place yesterday.
Shh... don't tell anyone but I made it into work before 10am today. I tend to get into work later, and as a result, stay later. My excuse (and good reason) has been that I avoid rush hour. With the lack of decent public transportation and a maddening array of BMW's and owners that think because they paid too much for their car they deserve a little more of the road, I avoid rush hour whenever possible. It was during rush hour that my first truck bought the farm by being rear-ended. It was during rush hour when Jen had the same thing happen to her crapcort (twice I might add).
Throw into the mix a full moon such as today and you have a drive that even sans rush hour is maddening. Keep in mind that some of this happened over the chorus of Junior Brown's "Highway Patrol", and boy, I could have used Junior's Si-reen a screaming a couple of times.
So the drive starts out behind a white Volvo. It's apparent by the frequent braking applications this lady wants to test the safety of her brakes, after all, she's driving the safest car in the world! I've come to the conclusion that Volvo drivers, like SUV drivers (terrorist supporters), are possibly the worst because they have no fear. They're completely safe in their monster truck crush proof car. You never notice Yugo drivers taking many risks. So anyway, as we roll up to the intersection of Nolensville and Tusculum Rd (where my second truck was totaled) this lady is playing lane roulette. Do I turn left onto Nolensville, do I go straight, or do I go right on Nolensville, oops, gonna go straight. I proceeded to wait behind her for the light to turn green. The opposite direction gets the green, and this lady starts rolling out into the intersection. Yup, here it comes I think, and you better believe I'm going to be a witness for this one ("I thought it was going to turn green so I thought I'd roll out into the intersection!"). Nope, she finally stops her car completely across the stop line. I kept my distance, but when the light turned green I roll up behind her to quickly discover she's not moving! After about 5 seconds I decide to give her a dose of VW caffine and politely beep the horn as in, THE LIGHT HAS TURNED GREEN, YOU MAY GO NOW fashion. Volvo drivers have annoyed me to no end, my old boss at the job from hell drove one. That right there sealed the I'm never going to drive a Volvo deal. Say what you like about the Swede's, but you won't find me driving one of their cars. And while I'm ranting, what is up with the tail lights on their old(er) cars!?!?! Talk about safety! I cannot believe a car so built around safety has the dinkiest tail lights of any vehicle on the road. Nevermind the fact that invariably one or both of them are burnt out. Egh! I'll take my tail lights in Ford Fairmont fashion thank you.
Somewhere northbound on 65, I'm watching this SUV (terrorist supporter) tailgating this minivan. Road rage I figure, except when I get next to the SUV I don't seen the normal signs of road rage (clenched teeth, hand gestures, gun, etc). Ok, I figure weird drivers. As I progress, I see there's a double wide making the bend from 65 to 40, slow going thru the normal nascar backstretch. Phew, I've only got less than a mile to go.
Nashville, for better or worse decided to replace the unbelievably insane traffic signaling and intersection that all happens to converge at Demonbreun, 16th ave, 17th ave, and Division (and I think 18th's thrown in there too) in part, with a roundabout (circle as we called em back home). Now, aside from the fact that no one can drive (thank goodness for the yield signs for those people wanting to enter the roundabout), it's still a hair raising affair since you can have two lanes of traffic going thru this thing. It's become the unwritten rule that the inside lane gets to take the leftmost lane (onto 17th) while the outside lane gets to take the center lane (onto 17th) or the lane that shoots them onto Division heading west. Unwritten, but is how it mostly seems to work. Just a little driving tip if you ever visit or, better yet, live here.
Anyway, I end up behind this car on the outmost lane that makes it abundantly clear that she's got no idea where she's going. She demonstrates this by playing roulette with the rightmost turnlane for 17th and the lane to go to Division. Picking Division she ends up in front of me. Guards are up as I'm not surprised to find that she wants to head up 18th, which right off that traffic light is a one-way street. Realizing the flaw of her decision (either it was the metro bike cop right there or the fact that both lanes had cars pointing towards her) she stops. Rather than wait for the next safest opportunity to rejoin traffic (as I'm proceeding towards Division) she decides to immediately correct her mistake and pull back in front of me. Not a smart move, because it means I have to avoid her. Needless to say, the horn got a workout this morning.
But wait! It gets better. I decided since I'm sorely out of shape and having determined that my last bout of shin splints were probably caused by the wear on my old Rockports, that it was time to run. It was going to be the warmest day all week and we're expecting some rain later this week, so today would be the day. Given that it's getting dark a little quicker these days, I'd have to venture out round 5pm for the run rather than 6pm. That's right, during rush hour. Upon turning down West End, I had my work schedule reinforced. The traffic gridlock on West End was unreal. 8 lanes (minus a lane or 2 in some places) of nothing but solid traffic. I made steady progress down West End, probably moving faster than most commuters, even given my slow pace. It came time to turn down Blakemore, a busy intersection at all times of the day. As I make my way up the killer hill on Blakemore, I hear the sound of positive reinforcement behind me. Someone was not happy after the light change and proceeded to lay on their horn for a good 30 seconds. It was the sound of joy to me. The sound of what I'd be missing if I came home at that time. The sound that I'd be making (and made this morning) were I in that intersection. It's the sound of what's is the worst thing about living in Nashville: The driving. The only thing missing was the sound of metal contacting metal, breaking glass and squealing tires.
I finally found my Mandy Barnett's "I've Got a Right To Cry" CD. It was Owen Bradley's last work and a fitting tribute / full circle for the man that made Patsy "Crazy". Rick get's punished with the Badmotorfinger since ABBA was pretty bad (and possibly uncalled for)
RIMBoy's Roundeye Duct Tape Jukebox Song of the day: Drawing Flies by Soundgarden
Made up Band Name of the Day: Hobart Mixer and the Kitchen Appliances
It's Friday. Time for another weekend. Time to catch up on sleep, get out of bed after noon, sit around and watch TLC, and wonder if I'm ever going to finish my remodeling project that's festered for the past 8 months. Thanks to SA for today's quote.
On the subject of weird dreams, comes the one I had the night before. If memory serves correctly, I was somehow interviewing Axl Rose. But Axl was not looking too hot (read on...). Apparently the night before he had the absolute crap kicked out of him. His face was all swolen and puffy, with several dark black marks beneath his eyes indicating a few jabs in the lookers. But what's weird beyond that was the fact that he had dyed his hair jet black... and gone was the stringy rocker hair, but replaced with a thicker do with something that can only be described as Flock of Seagulls meets a mullet. I don't know if my brain was processing the secret desires of many people; that is to see Axl post arse kicking, or in some sort of rock bottom fall that he felt his hair was an important part of an image change to somehow get his career back on track. Shortly thereafter the alarm went off, indiating I'd be in bed for another hour before making my way into something resembling work.
I picked up these greatest hits via Bandix the other day. I've often wrestled with the Greatest Hits dilemma. Do you buy the GH of a band and call it a day or do you collect the entire catalog? I think it boils down to this (as the author says, Bless you and your Hot Rocks collection). Do I really want all of the works from Bachman Turner Overdrive? Are all of their works available on CD? Likewise, There's only so much Morrisey one can have. I'll take mine with "Interesting Drug" and the other highlights of Morrisey just post the Smiths, Thank-you. And I'll pick right up where I picked up Morrisey, Vauxhaul and I and go from there.
At one point I had the entire catalog of US released Rush CD's. Only Rush fans could demand and get the entire Rush Catalog released. And of course, I look back and realize my timing was perfect as my collecting kicked into gear right when most of that catalog hit the bargain bin. How long has it been since you've seen Fly By Night, Signals, A Farewell to Kings, or Caress of Steel in the bargain bin? I figure I'll collect what I know is worth collecting, the rest can either get a purchase from the bargain bin or be relegated to the GH placeholder in my collection. And occasionally a GH will be the starter CD for the entire collection.
The problem is, everyone's a music snob. I'm a Rush, Maynard Ferguson, Steve Earle (and only then my collection reflects most of his work post prison), and a few others snob. U2 and REM used to be staples in my collection, but the schlock both bands produced in the late 90's (U2's Pop on and REM Monster and beyond, sans the refreshingly needed Reveal) has kept me from keeping up with those areas of my collection. What purpose does owning Pop (which thankfully Jen purchased) serve to a person who considers Joshua Tree (how typical eh), Achtung Baby, and to a lesser extent Zooropa, the pinnacle of U2? Uncle Tupelo is being filled in whereever possible, but I joined that party a year or two too late. I've kept up with Wilco and Son Volt, Farrar, and have found myself discovering Billy Bragg. But truth be told, outside of getting to know Bragg's name thru the Wilco collabs (which I think Billy is better sans Wilco) I don't expect much more in the Bragg section. I picked up an album of his b sides and the excellent NWPA. But do I really need more?
The fact of the matter is, GH's are the only way to get ahold of many of these bands. Of course, many were available on vinyl before the whole CD revolution took hold, but my wallet and ears (and house) simply cannot afford to attempt to fill in those holes via vinyl. I've relegated what vinyl collecting I do to those albums by Maynard Ferguson. They can usually be found reasonable priced and generally sound good... Jazz people usually take good care of their vinyl.
What it boils down to is this: You cannot be a music snob if you have any greatest hits album from a band you don't own any other releases from. Don't tell me that I've got to have all of the Sex Pistols / Black Flag / The Band releases if your James Brown / Run DMC / Bob Marley collection only consists of 20 Greatest, Together Forever, or Legend. No Raising Hell, No song (with apologies to Marley). Yeah, I know the "Swindle" needs to make its way into my collection (and eventually will). In the meantime, I've got some Bachman Turner Overdrive for you to listen to. If you've not seen my music collection, you ain't seen nothing yet.
The problem is, the alternative went mainstream, with a hail mary tactic by Nirvana to put an end to hair metal. And while you can try and argue with me that Pearl Jam has some sort of "vital" cause that we must carry the torch for (or some other reason why PJ is the best thing since Motley Crue), the fact of the matter is that all Seattle ended up doing was screwing up a few good bands. U2, still havent found the sound they used to be known for. REM's apparently awoken from their mainstream multimillion dollar sleep to finally produce Reveal, except now as a trio. The Cure's "Wish" was certainly a sign of the musical apocalypse. And how is it Robert can still think he's the deep dark depressed genius at age 40?
All this talk of and resurgence of Ozzy will, I hope, spawn another generation of wannabe glam rock hair bands. We definately need some mindless rock so our high level introspective next Morrisey, Cure, U2, or REM has a fighting chance of releasing a Boy, Disintegration, or Out of Time (joking!). Seriously though, the problem we have is that to be alternative is to release something "harder" than what's considered hard: The watered down Metallica, Rolling Stones, or Pearl Jam. Unfortunately those bands attempting to be harder do a better job of being poseurs or taking paint off of walls rather than being musicians.
Sure, there's bands here and there doing it, and making a living. Unfortunately they're competing with those mega corporation bands, nevermind being ignored accordingly. We need another New Wave. We need another alternative movement. Heck, we need another Elvis. The Eels is probably the most refreshing thing I've heard in awhile. Unfortunately we're stuck in a post Cobain music spiral (not that I'm not glad he offed himself), with no looks of pulling ourselves out until something breaks. Without the ability to get on the radio and with distribution being knocked down at every opportunity, it's going to be a long time before we get sick of another type of Motley Crue, GNR, or Poison. And that's what keeps me awake at night.
RIMBoy's Roundeye Duct Tape Jukebox Song of the day: Take a Chance on Me by ABBA
Made up Band Name of the Day: Afterdark and the Mac Classics
So the Cardinals finally won one. Depressing that it finally happened in Game 3, but at least they won't go down in a sweep.
So last night I got the urge to surf the internet, new and improved on the phat flat panel now adorning Dr. Teeth. In the absense of anything to actually accomplish (like shopping online) I decided to go hit a site or two out of my humor bookmarks section. The first one I decided to hit is one that I've hit for a long time, but for nearly 2 years it's been in a holding state. Needless to say, I was excited when a fresh graphic came up on the left and there were indications that something was indeed being updated. That's right, Craig threw a boot at MyBoot.com. He promises another Futon is in the works, but in the mean time his personal section is being updated. Quite possibly the best summation of weddings I've seen in awhile. And it's a great commentary about weddings / traditions in the St. Louis area. Craig's site is home to the "She Hates My Futon" series of stories, in addition to "the boot of life" and "ready-made essays". Before the leeches such as myself started sucking his ISP's pipe, it was also home to the MyBoot movie theater... where one could get the best in fan movie creations. It's where I discovered the brilliane of Kung-Fu Kenobi's Big Adventure (sorry bout the link, not the best, Evan's site is crap).
MyBoot led me to the West Virginia Surf Report, which then led me to Rock and Roll Confidential. Brick Walls rule. A Lot.
More Sex Pistols for Rick since his IP address changes more often then I change underwear.
RIMBoy's Roundeye Duct Tape Jukebox Song of the day: Seventeen by the Sex Pistols
Made up Band Name of the Day: Mulletstache
As I attempted to get to sleep last night I realized the other thing that I saw on TV that bothered me.
So I was watching a re-run of Law and Order (as I'll often do when there's nothing else to watch on TV). This was during the Jill Hennessey time of Law and Order for those that care. Anyway, they had to retry this case from back in the 60's. Of course, they had to put the arresting officer (who had long since retired) back on the stand. The Law and Order team had to dig deep... so deep that the only person they could find that would be older (and retired) than Jerry Orbach was...
That's right. They jumped the shark and had "Fish" play the part.
That was the important thing I could not remember while I was typing in my last update. Are you not excited?
I'm going to watch the Cardinal stomp the Giants tonight in Round 1 of the playoffs.
RIMBoy's Roundeye Duct Tape Jukebox Song of the day: Seventeen by the Sex Pistols
Made up Band Name of the Day: Southern Illinois Radicals
Well, let's try this again. Right in the middle of a point Nutscrape decided to lock up and thus my original attempt at an update was lost. I thought up some other stuff I wanted to write in the meantime, but whether or not I remember it is another story (or another update).
So let's start with today's quote. Low does not even begin to describe this prank. Are ratings such that it requires people to stoop below levels of stupidity? As they say in Spinal Tap, there's a fine line between clever and stupid. And there's a fine line between stupid and being a fscktard. It's for guys like Duran that the gene pool of life could use a little chlorine. It'd be one thing if Arizona did not have respect for Kile (and even then it's debateable). Smash (yes, of Headbanger's Ball fame) and his morning zoo got into all sorts of trouble with their little stunt during the Perian Gulf War. And while there's some question of whether or not the STL weathercaster would have been of sound mind, it was still a little over the top when another morning show did in many people's opinion, push him over the edge. But this one is sooo wrong on so many levels that I cannot fathom why anyone would think this is funny.
Hopefully that career move will end his career in radio. Forever.
Ok, now that I've got that off my chest, it's been a wild week since I last left off. Friday saw attendance at Rick's place, where low and behold my secret need for the occasional ABBA reared it's head. Thankfully the need itself did not force itself upon other party members. I've just got fond memories of them on the Muppet Show, that's all.
After getting out of bed sometime round 1pm on Saturday (after watching an hour of crap on TLC) I moped around the house before setting sites on the first of a few Saturday night events. As I would find out, 37th Ave N is best reached via Charlotte, not West End. Chock up another night of driving entertainment to the Nashville city planners. And of course I leave the party just when it gets going. Where did I leave to?
I made my way over to Slowbar (the site that crashed my previous attempt at an update, hence no linky linky). Neko Case was playing there. Unfortunately I arrived late only to find that the opening act was even later taking the stage... they had yet to take the stage. At the same time, the scenesters started filing in. It became obvious who was cool and who wanted to be cool. Those that were cool were drinking everything but PBR, those that wanted to look cool had tall of PBR. No, cool is downing talls of Stag Beer. Neko overall put on a good show, despite the inability of the soundguy to put a decent mix in her monitor. And it's not that she was being picky, but when she's complaining that it's feeding back there's a problem. I've put Slowbar on my list of joints I'd rather avoid for a show. Despite the house mix being decent, the game of pool going on in the back was more than a slight distraction. Why do people pay a $10 cover and then turn around and not listen to the performance? Freakin scenesters. Here's a news flash: Lou Reed's dead. Now go get your Kurt Cobain brooding and cry on.
So post Neko I hit party tres, this being the going away party for Ralph. Ralph is apparently heading north, somewhere to do something. In the meantime, Brandon and I chilled with Landry and enjoyed the inflatable teepee. It was really a site to see. It just goes to prove American's can engineer anything out of anything when they set their minds to it. Thankfully the teepee did not collapes or you'd hear about the Nashville plastic inflatable teepee incident.
I mowed the lawn on Sunday. It was the only thing resembling work I did all day.
The cluster is back up and running. It's ripping CD's like there's no tomorrow. Unfortunately I've not figured out how to best organize the collection given the additional storage space I installed. And CD's from BMG are on their way at any moment.
Ah yes, the offices of RIMBoy.com were downsized, but not in the employee sense. The Applevision monitor that was given to me and provided visuals from Dr. Teeth, my workstation, died monday morning. It's the latest in a long line of monitors that have attempted to serve my visual stimulation needs. That said, I decided it was time to buy a real monitor. I broke down and bought a 17" flat panel. I figure it's about time. And I really did not want to carry another large CRT monitor. They're just too bulky and take up too much space.
I know there's 50 other things I've forgotten. I'm digging the two newest Elvis Costello albums I recently received. I'm listening to the Texas Tornado's. As usual, it's a musical fiesta at Casa de RIMBoy.
RIMBoy's Roundeye Duct Tape Jukebox Song of the day: That's Pep! by Devo
Made up Band Name of the Day: Meat Cleaver