The Undeniable Proof That I Am A Getting-Old-Honky

Every once in a while something happens that makes you realize that you’re not as connected to what’s going on as you thought you were. I know that despite my efforts of keeping up, and trying to stay in touch, through a natural progression of events I have started to become a Fuddy-Duddy. I don’t think I’m all the way gone yet, but there is evidence of what I expect is the beginning of an irreversible slide into middle age and Fuddy-Duddery. 

I might as well embrace the fact that I will be the nerdy, super pale guy on a family vacation with a stupidly huge camera, and weird convenience gear attached to my body in cumbersome ways. I will certainly misuse current slang terms, and I will probably think I am cool for knowing about a band that I will assume is underground but is actually totally mainstream. I just won’t really know what mainstream even means any more. I will make painful efforts to connect with my children through humor that will only serve to reveal how out of touch I really am, and they will roll their eyes and groan whenever I do it. Them’s the breaks. That’s how it goes, I know it and all I can hope is that the people around me are either on the same trajectory as myself and we can all fall into oblivion together, or that they are at least gracious and kind while they witness my decline.

Some time ago, I was listening to a Lil Jon song (Joint? Jam? see what I mean … I already don’t know what the fuck I’m talking about), actually it was more of a skit than a song … it was a group of fellows sitting around talking about how hilarious it is that they can say SKEET on the radio, and that the only reason they can do this is because white people don’t know what it means. They were right, I didn’t know what it meant. I knew they weren’t talking about shooting clay pigeons with a shotgun, and I knew that it was somehow lewd in nature, but I couldn’t quite figure it out based on the context of their conversation what SKEET meant.

Luckily the song directly following the skit was completely dedicated to SKEET … “This should clear things up” I thought to myself, settling in to get to the bottom of this. SKEET was practically the only word used in the song, “Aww SKEET SKEET … Aww SKEET SKEET” chanted the chorus of in-the-know-fun-timers as if to mock me and to rub in my face my honky-know-nothingness. Hmmm, nope, that didn’t clear it up … I’m even more confused now … 

The fact that I didn’t know what SKEET meant wasn’t what clued me in to the fact that I was tipping down this slippery slope, it was that I used Wikipedia to look it up. It was then that I realized that my Fuddy had been Duddied and it was only a matter of time before I was wearing a fanny-pack and flip-up sunglasses. So adios amigos, it’s all down hill from here, and now it’s a race to the bottom.

For those of you like me who aren’t yet in the know, here’s what SKEET means.

Does Chinese Democracy = The End of Times?

I’ve been thinking a lot about the new Guns N’ Roses album “Chinese Democracy.” In fact since I’ve heard it, I’ve been totally obsessed. This album represents a side of our society and culture that fascinates me. I’m not exactly sure what this is, or how to describe it … I can’t quite pin-point it and I’ve been trying to define it for years. It has to do with wealth, fame, ego, decadence and power, seeing those things rise up, consume, and then destroy a person. It’s as if Rome were a man and it’s entire history were compressed into one lifetime, and then being able to sit back and watch it all go down with a box of popcorn.

I’ve read reviews of Chinese Democracy with some pretty extreme viewpoints that are both positive and negative written by tastemakers and credible critics, some of whose analysis has been fascinating. This album has been more anticipated than probably any other musical release in modern times. It has also been the butt of countless jokes for nearly a decade. In fact, it’s completion had become such a metaphor for the impossible, that Dr Pepper said that it would give everyone in the country a free soda if it was ever actually released. Not even the Eagles could whip up this kind of fervor in the music press, and when Hell did freeze over, and they did reform, it was only a blip on the radar. I’d say that quite possibly the only record that could generate more anticipation that Chinese Democracy would be a new Beatles record. 

Those of you who know me know that I enjoy nothing more than spectacular failure. I’m  not talking about a kick in the nuts, or a gag reel of bloopers, I’m talking about talent and massive ambition driven awry by delusions of self importance and grandeur. A fall from grace, blaze of glory kind of failure. Self inflicted epic failure. It pretty much goes without saying that I think this record is absolutely terrible. In my mind it is practically unlistenable, a parody of itself, and is a gold medal standard of total shit. In other words I love it. It’s so bad it makes my arms go numb and I can only listen to about five songs in a row before I think I’m going to pass out. It is so impressively lousy that my head starts to spin thinking about everything that is terrible about it, and then a new part comes in, or another song begins, and whatever I was thinking was the pinnacle of terribleness gets trumped by something so insanely terrible that not only am I totally blindsided, I am overcome with an intense wave of nausea and delight. 

But all of that is irrelevant, there are thousands of hilarious reviews that are scathing in their attacks on Axl and GnR, as well as thousands that say this record is brilliant, declaring Axl to be a genius and the king of rock. I don’t need to write another one of those, I can’t compete or add anything new or relevant to that dialogue, which brings me to my actual point: Understanding RELEVANCE. Here’s the thing for me about Chinese Democracy, it is totally irrelevant. It absolutely does not need to exist, and contributes nothing to music or culture aside from it being a quintessential example of everything that music, and the music business has been perverted to represent. Because of his massive delusion Axl has completely lost sight of his own relevance within the music world.

Guns N’ Roses was the biggest band in the world in 1989, they were untouchable and exciting as a more raw and, dare I say it, “real” band coming out of a sea of superficial and manufactured hard rock bands. Established bands like Motley Crüe and Skid Row tried to follow suit by losing the makeup and getting grittier. But GnR ruled the impostors and the rubes, and the music business limped along for a couple more years but things seemed stagnant and rehashed, never quite ringing true. Then Nirvana took the world by storm and totally turned everything on it’s head, making the entire genre of hard rock and everything on MTV look ridiculous and contrived. Of course the follow up wave of contrived impersonators trying to jump on the grunge came next, but Guns N’ Roses at that point seemed to more or less begin their decline into absurdity and irrelevance.

Confusing complex arrangements and elaborate instrumentation as the qualities of good song writing they made their songs longer and more orchestral, while simultaneously leaving behind or confusing the fans who loved them for being a kick ass rock band. While Nirvana destroyed and redefined popular music, GnR refused to let go of the past, and  in some kind of perverse effort to prove everyone wrong, tried to do more of what was being wholeheartedly rejected by music fans everywhere. Like the crazed Nero playing a fiddle on the burning rooftops of Rome, Axl went down on his own ship of fools releasing “Use your Illusion 1 & 2,” a massive, decadent failure that was a lavish attempt at trying to continue down the path of what had been established before. It was of course a total flop.

And that was pretty much it. The band went on permanent hiatus, and eventually all original members left or were fired. Axl continued to soldier on in a fortress of solitude for nearly 13 years, writing the follow up record that was to become Chinese Democracy. In the time that passed, the promise of it’s release became almost mythical.

All of this brings me to the question, “WHY?” Why did Axl have to do this, why did it take so long? Why is so intensely terrible? The only answer I can come up with is that it could not be any different. Because it had to be this way. It is Axl’s destiny to do this. He could not release another “Appetite for Destruction.” He could not adapt to the changes around him and write an album that sounds more like contemporary modern rock. He could not imitate that which he despises, that which brought him down from grace, that which belittled his prowess and ended his reign of heavy metal dictatorship.

He could only do what he knew how to do. He had to rebuild his empire with the tools that he had, and he had to build it bigger, and better, and brighter, and louder than ever before. Not making another record would be admitting defeat, admitting that everything he stood for was ridiculous. Writing an album that did not sound like this would be a surrender as well by admitting that he needed to change. Unfortunately his only option was to write an album that made him look like the most insane, out of touch and egotistical person making music in the world today. In the process of doing so he has created the biggest most elaborate and decadent tribute to himself that he possibly could. He has constructed his own spectacular tomb. 

Recently I read a book called “Bunker Archeology” the thesis of which was that the very act of Nazi Germany constructing it’s fortified Atlantic Wall of bunkers was the symbol of their eminent defeat. This impenetrable network of fortresses was literally concrete proof of the Nazis’ arrogant pigheadedness. By not acknowledging, or accepting the changing tactics and technology of warfare, they used a massive amount of crucial war time resources to build a elaborate series of structures that were immediately obsolete. This miscalculation and misunderstanding of what they were truly up against, and of how the events would unfold, was their ultimate demise. In many ways Chinese Democracy suffers from some similar thinking. Holed up in a bunker surrounded by yes-men, Axl arrogantly denied the changing world around him and for thirteen delusional and paranoid years he recorded Chinese Democracy. 

While Nirvana permanently shifted the trajectory of modern rock and the music business, the internet has actually destroyed it. The paradigm of huge rock stars and decadent major labels has been totally crushed. Chinese Democracy is the great blitzkrieg of the last man standing from the old regime trying to reclaim, and give validity to a business model and system that can no longer function. The band that was the prodigal son of this system, who was toppled a surprise attack from an unforeseen front, is now delivering the final death blow to the very machine that built it in the first place. Axl’s magnum opus is a huge useless fortress built to defend an empire that nobody cares about anymore, and he’s too stubborn and self obsessed to realize it.

All of this is just part of the reason that I’m obsessed with Chinese Democracy. It is awe inspiring in it’s egotistical delusion and epic in it’s failure. Axl has unintentionally given me one of the greatest gifts I could ever receive. It makes me sick to my stomach and I love it.

The Pull-up Quagmire

A couple of weeks ago I was going to write a post comparing Pull-up diapers to the Iraq War … What did they have in common? Neither one had an exit strategy! (Rimshot sound effect, crowd moans). That is, until I realized that neither of these statements were true, and that actually I’m an idiot.

My son has been making the transition out of diapers and into pull-ups. He’s thrilled about it, and we all thought it was pretty awesome until one day we reached a level of crisis that we hadn’t really prepared for. DEFCON BROWN. I don’t know how many of you have had to change a diaper recently, but for those of you that haven’t, the beauty of a diaper is that it is essentially like one of those tear away tuxedos that a sexy magician wears, it comes off quick and easy. Speed and ease are two things that are crucial when you realize that underneath that diaper is a hot new addition to your child’s wardrobe—their fresh pair of shit-shorts. The thing about a pull up is that what goes up, must come down … you pull it up like pants, and so to get them off you pull them down. If you see where I’m going here, pulling it down means smearing crap all over the place.

The first time I found myself in this situation I had to think fast. I ran to the Kitchen, grabbed my son’s safety scissors and proceeded to cut off the diaper like a battlefield surgeon. I went through this grisly routine a few more times over the next two days. The first time was like an emergency reaction, the next couple of times, while I was walking to get the scissors I was thinking to my self, “This is stupid. Whoever invented these pull-ups totally did not account for one of the only two things that happens in a diaper. How in the world could they not have seen one this coming?”  and, “They call themselves Diaper Engineers—HA!”

Later, after a particularly gruesome experience I came out of the bedroom and started talking to my wife about how ridiculous I thought these pull-ups were, and joking about their lack of an “exit strategy.”  She looked at me like I had shit on my face. “You realize you can tear right down the side of the diaper don’t you? They come right off.”

Obviously, this had not crossed my mind. In the heat of battle I hadn’t even noticed the ready-made solution right in front of my eyes. It definitely didn’t look like it tore off, there was no visual indicator saying “tear here” or anything similar—something they could have easily done considering that they did print the word “Back” on one side, and “1, 2, Tree” with an icon of a tree printed on the the other. I guess putting a hilarious pun on a diaper is more important than showing you how to get a poop filled disaster off your kid’s body. I probably could have read the instructions on the package, but I also didn’t think I would need instructions to be able to take off a diaper. That was my fatal mistake, assuming I understood how to do something without taking the time to really examine all my options.

Three months ago this could have been funny in an amateur comedy night kind of way, but today it’s more of a testament to progress. With our new President Elect having a plan to start removing US troops from Iraq, and with me finally pulling my head out of my ass, we can now actually say that the Iraq War is not at all like a pull-up diaper.

Victory!

Congratulations America, we’ve done something great.

Since Obama’s victory on Tuesday I’ve been trying to process the unbridled jubilation that I saw in the world, in my peers, and that I am still feeling. I’m trying to get perspective on the significance and emotions of the last week and I think the thing that most of us feel, probably for the first time, is a real connection to our country. It’s like our generation has actually been acknowledged, and that we have accomplished and witnessed something amazing. We’re feeling that we belong to something greater than ourselves, and that we have a country and a home, and that we are all working together towards a common goal. Having that feeling today is a big shift in the mood and reality of only two weeks ago. 

Here in Seattle people were singing and dancing in the streets. It was happening all over the world too, but the Seattle celebrations had a special significance to me, because I live here, and I know that to see Capitol Hill overflowing into the streets with strangers hugging strangers, dancing and singing the national anthem is almost impossible to imagine. I wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t seen it, and if also I didn’t understand it and if I didn’t feel that way myself. To see this ecstatic mob, a crowd of people who are characterized as being apathetic cynical hipsters, that are usually too cool for school to be this openly emotional and patriotic is amazing. 

Not since the 60′s has there been as significant a mass movement as this, and I would say the primary difference between now and then is that this is a positive, hopeful, optimistic movement. Yes, the 60′s movement was about peace and love, but it was also a rebellion against the establishment. This wasn’t a rebellion, it was about working together within the establishment. More importantly, it was about reclaiming the establishment, and hopefully about redefining what it means and how it works. This was not a hostile takeover, it was a peaceful transition of power.

As a generation, we have for the most part been told that we didn’t matter. Politics, policies, laws, wars, everything had pretty much been handled in a way that was out of our hands. Our protests were ignored, our votes were discarded or not sought after, and our voices were not heard. But this time it was different. We were actually given credit as being competent and capable people and we lived up to it.

Nothing is more condescending than being pandered to or being treated like a child. Even children hate it. Trust me on this. One of the most effective ways I can talk to my two year old son is to speak to him in a normal way, like you would talk to any of your friends or peers. There is nothing he responds better to than being asked if wants to do something himself. He always wants to do it, even if it’s taking the cap off the toothpaste or picking up his toys. It makes him feel good to be able to do things, to have a voice and to be capable. 

The same, of course, is true for adults. Think about having a job where you don’t have any responsibility or you never have a chance to make decisions. It’s boring, you don’t care, you just do it to pay the rent. Or having a teacher that doesn’t challenge you, or respect your desire to learn. Most people just do what they have to to do to get by and very few people step up and excel, or try to make a difference if they don’t feel like it’s wanted, or that it’s not their place to try and change things. The attitude is “If you don’t want my opinion, I won’t give it to you,”

This is the fundamental difference of the way that Barack Obama engaged with voters, but not just youth voters, all voters, Americans. His slogan itself, “Yes We Can” is about empowerment and proving that we are capable, and that we have a voice. It is also all inclusive, it’s not “I” it’s “we”. He acknowledged the people, in a genuine way, and that was all it took for us to feel like we were important enough to take part. Not only does Barack Obama speak to us, he listens to us. He asked us to be a part of the process, and to help him, to help America. He gave us responsibility. He wasn’t like politicians before him who made it seem like America is supposedly “For the people, by the people,” but that everything is actually best handled for us by the “grownups.” This was also not like previous campaigns, where the youth vote was characterized as too cynical or apathetic to even bother to care, and where the candidates and media were saying in as many words, “The younger generation could really have an impact if they weren’t so stupid and lazy.” That is not a very good way to reach out and motivate people …

By engaging us and trusting us with responsibility, giving us credit and respect, it allowed us to trust him with responsibility. A Good Leader communicates, inspires, trusts, empowers and delegates. Leadership is about INCLUSION, not exclusion and division, it’s about bringing people together. It was a smart way to reach people, and it worked. This election was the equivalent of American voters being able to sit at the grown up table at Thanksgiving, but not just the voters, it was also about America the nation being able to sit at the grown up table of the world. Growing up might not be all fun and games, it can be awkward sometimes and a lot of work, but it’s satisfying and challenging, and essential to progress. Good work America, we’re growing up, it’s exciting, and it’s for the best.

The Day The Music Died

On a walk around my neighborhood not too long ago I came across this discarded piano. It looked like it had been in a ghost town saloon for the last 120 years, not like it had been, until recently, in somebody’s living room in south Seattle. I had walked by this house only a couple of days before I took this photo, and it wasn’t there, so it must have been a recent addition to the street. It hadn’t been out there for more than 48 hours, and it had been a moderate stretch of weather so it couldn’t have been rain or severe exposure that destroyed it, and vandals would have left a more violent mark. The piano had slowly decayed and crumbled until somebody carefully moved it out to the street. Whoever that person was had held on to this piano, in this condition, for a long long time before they decided to give it up and pass it on to whoever would take it next.

People put a lot of junk on the streets around here; couches, mattresses, refrigerators, walkers with built in toilet seats, chairs, anything. There’s almost always a free sign on it, until it rains and the sign falls off, and they have to wait until it’s dry enough to tape on a new one. It seems to me that these items are so far beyond the point of being valuable that it’s ridiculous to even pretend that anybody could use them, or want them, even for free. I know that this is a common thing to do everywhere, but not until I moved to this neighborhood had I seen such total and utter junk being passed off as usable free stuff. The thing is, it works. People take it.

I’ll never forgive myself for not stopping one day to take a picture of a refrigerator on the road that somebody had spray painted the word “FREE” on to it’s door. I figured that, of course no one would want a spray painted refrigerator in their kitchen, and that it would be there when I came home from work. Sure enough, within eight hours it was gone.

Then, like some kind of trash miracle, I could not believe my luck when a couple of weeks later I came across this stove … Apparently, whoever was trying to get rid of it ran out of spray paint before they could finish painting the word “FREE,” but regardless, people understood the sentiment and the stove was gone by the next morning.

Carrot Top: 1965—Soon please?

What can possibly be said about this asshole that isn’t totally obvious except that his 6th top friend on Myspace is that other colossal shit stick, Criss Angel. Either Criss Angel totally just freaked my mind and magically put himself on Carrot Top’s Myspace page, or these two are waxing each others backs in vegas with $100 bills as you read this. He also has an impersonator of Data from Star Trek and a Gene Simmons impersonator as friends. The king of douche.

For more information about the rating system see the Comedy Continuum page above.

Eddie Murphy: 1963—

Eddie Murphy is a rare example of someone who’s average is actually the result of some pretty extreme highs and lows. His early material was ground breaking at the time and you knew that off-stage he walked the walk. The fact that can get caught with a transvestite hooker and have his next movie be a movie for kids (Dr. Doolittle) is almost impossible to imagine today. Something that would drive a presidential candidate to suicide was just a blip for Eddie, and actually improved his overall status by re-upping his street cred. If you can record a song like “Party All The Time” with Rick James, The King of Freak, being nasty is in your blood. It doesn’t matter how many Nutty Professors you make, that shit is a part of you, he’s just figured out how to cover it up better. Martin wishes he could pull this off.

For more information about the rating system see the Comedy Continuum page above.

Redd Foxx: 1922—1991

“The Very Best Of Redd Foxx, Live & Dirty Volumes 1—6″  (CCA -5)

It’s hard to listen to any of Redd’s comedy albums and really understand what is actually funny. In fact, it’s really hard to listen to them and understand anything at all. Most famous for his role as Fred Sanford in Sanford and Son, his true soul was revealed on his raunchy series, “The Very Best Of Redd Foxx, Live & Dirty Volumes 1-6″. In these drunken and incoherent records, between yelps and belches you can occasionally discern a “punch-line”, and it was usually something that was impressively crude and almost always completely random, feebly hanging on to any semblance of a story or joke. Listening to the background noise of the crowd in the recordings colors the jokes and reveals a new layer of comedy as their reaction often sounds confused or uneasy, except for the lone hysterical patron that Redd is sure to eventually call out and berate. The only thing that makes these albums comedy instead of the candidly recorded rants of a disturbingly drunk old man is that somebody put him on stage with a microphone next to his head. And that is exactly what makes them so entertaining to listen to.

For more information about the rating system see the Comedy Continuum page above.

Bizarre Coincidence or Fate?

 

In 1999, a friend of mine gave me a “First State Quarters Of The United States Collector’s Map.” A big fold out map of the USA, color coded by state and year to to coincide with the release of the 50 state quarters. The idea being that as the quarters are released, (8 per year) you place the actual quarter in the quarter sized hole punched into the state and after ten years, you’ve got a big ugly map full of quarters. 

She gave it to me as a joke, either because she thought the whole thing was stupid, or because she thought I was stupid enough to actually do it. She did know that I love to do stupid things, especially if they take a long time and are totally pointless, so in that regard it was actually a perfect gift. Needless to say I’ve been doing it … For ten years … 2008 is the last year, and right now, in October, I only need two more quarters to complete the map, Hawaii and Arizona, the home states of Barack Obama and John McCain.

A minute ago I freaked out because was going to put in the Alaska quarter I had found earlier today, forgetting that I already had Alaska and I thought, “Oh shit, the only two states left are Alaska and Arizona, Palin and McCain … They’re going to win.” But when I opened the map I was delighted to see that Alaska had been filled and Hawaii was left. Hawaii and Arizona, the final showdown … And according to this map, Hawaii is the last quarter to be released, the last man standing. I’m taking it as a good omen.

Don’t pull a Buckner America!

I designed these posters for some Election Night parties going on here in Seattle. A joint effort by Havana and The Saint. It should be a pretty good time, presuming of course that things go well, and by well I mean that McCain gets hammered and Obama is our next president.

The suspense of this campaign has been killing me, and I can not even imagine the toll it must be taking on Barack, but I saw two of his speeches today and both were inspired and massive. I am too nervous to not be skeptical, and too hopeful for victory for my own good. If anything goes wrong, or this election gets stolen or obstructed by any GOP funny business I will lose my mind, and I don’t think I’m alone. The momentum behind Obama has been incredible, and is the kind of tide that you would do well not to resist. My hope is that that it’s an irreversible wave at this point, and that change is going to wash over this nation like a huge Democrat tsunami. The USA needs a shot in the ass, some hope, and a bit of good fortune, and I think this is the way to get it. The idea of McCain winning is such a disturbing and massive step backward it makes me crazy to even thing about it. McCain is a mistake that we can’t really make right now. As a country we’ve been apathetic for too long, and it’s been proven to us that it actually does matter who is in the white house.

The last time I had this kind of anxiety was during the 1986 world series, Boston Vs the Mets … The Red Sox had almost clenched the title until a bizarre fluke error in the 10th inning of game six by first baseman Billy Buckner lost them the game, and by extension the series. When that ball rolled through Buckner’s legs I totally lost my shit. I was filled with a seething, venomous rage, and I went into a decade long Baseball Depression. Even though I played organized baseball until I was 20, I could hardly bring myself to watch a professional game, and I had completely removed myself emotionally from the game. It was dead to me, I refused to get sucked in like that again, and sadly, I became a cynic of our national pass-time. 

My point is that the 86 World Series was the last time I was this excited about potentially winning anything. I was thirteen, I had nothing more important to care about. Now I’m 35 and I’ve got a lot more on my mind and a lot more at stake. I have two kids, a wife, and a mortgage. The future is a lot more important and fragile to me now, and I don’t want to see it get totally destroyed by ignorance and negativity. This country has been a pretty disappointing and hypocritical let down to me for the last 10 years. With eight solid years of total bullshit with Bush, and at least two years of a good presidency wasted prior to that with the ridiculous persecution of Clinton over the Lewinsky scandal and any other thing the GOP could dig up to undermine the issues and progress of the time … Things have been getting worse at every turn, and I think much worse than many of us could have even imagined. It’s embarrassing how much of fuck ups we’ve become and it’s our own damn fault.

There’s a lot more on the line now than baseball game in the mid eighties, and if we let this routine ground ball, this totally obvious basic play go through our legs, I and millions of other Americans are going to totally be enraged. America needs to stick to the fundamentals, keep it’s eye on the ball, and not be distracted by a bunch of bush-league assholes trying to get us to flub the play. The thing is, that right now it’s simple, things can turn around. We’re at the biggest turning point many of us have had in our life times. All we have to do is pick up the damn ball, walk two or three steps to the left and step on the bag. That’s it, it’s that simple! If we do that we will win the world series! So come on America, don’t pull a Buckner, let’s do this thing!