Author: fifteenkey (Page 42 of 95)

“Earthstorm” is one of those sci-fi dregs that is so bad you can’t take your eyes off it, and I had to see if the asteroid wounded moon was going to crack in half. I had to! Sadly, good sense lurking somewhere deep in the Frontal Lobes of my cerebral cortex um, acted for me and put my ass to sleep.

The Movie Mark website succinctly summarizes the films lack of quality, “Folks, the movie’s so bad that NASA wouldn’t even let them use their name, thus, we have the American Space Institute (ASI). Houston, however, wasn’t so lucky in protecting its name.”

Anyway, I noted there was one of those Baldwin dudes brooding through the film with a ridiculous hair thing hanging down his forehead that looked like Makeup adjusted to exacting dimensions for every take. I mean, the space helmet comes off and it’s still there… Whatever. He was so bad and his dialogue delivery so monotone, I actually said out loud, “Wow, this Baldwin brother sucks.” Now, talking to myself aside, Stephen Baldwin is one awful actor.

You may be wondering, “how did you know the sucky Baldwin was Stephen?” Good question. Today I was reading the HuffPo (that’s what we left wing nuts call it), and one of the stories was, “Stephen Baldwin On Fox News: If Obama Wins, I’ll Leave The Country.” As righty host Laura Igraham tried to shut his rant down, he finished with a flourish, spouting, “Why do they keep saying that four more years of McCain is four more years of Bush? That’s the most stupidist thing I’ve ever heard in my life.”

I just knew.

Get Rhythm… When You Get The Blues

Comedian George Carlin died last Sunday, and I’m certain he’s not “up there smiling down on us.” Carlin’s genius was using his mastery of verbal and body language to paint vivid images live, right in front of us. Sure, he made us laugh, but more importantly, his sarcasm, his “bitter derision and irony” made us think…

Baseball and Football

Religion

Education and the American Dream

I am hoping Barack Obama really does advance bi-partisanship by appointing Republicans to his Cabinet. In fact, the plump prospect of Nebraska Senator Chuck Hagel (R) as VP would be a huge step forward and would also sink the Republican’s “National Security” argument against Senator Obama and the McBush campaign with it.

How about someone from the Green Party for Secretary of the Interior? Then again, that may be too extreme. There’s got to be some balance between environmentalism and commerce, and I’m not schooled enough on the Green to tell you if they’re a compromising lot. You get my point though, right? Helping to promote minor political parties to our national discussion would broaden the debate for long-term solutions and strengthen our Union. For example, Ron Paul is really a Libertarian with an “R” next to his name, and he is dismissed as a crackpot by the Neocon right, but isn’t there a place in an Obama administration for this voice of reason?

OK, that’s it. Yeah, I threw some cash at Barack Obama because I believed he represented “true change,” but now he’s buckling to Dubya on the FISA thing and immunity for big telecoms that are spying on you… They don’t have to spy on me because I give them everything here, but that’s another story… Anyway, I’m withdrawing my support for the Big O and endorsing… ME for President!

God bless you and god bless the United States of America!

I saw one of the best rock shows of my 49 years as Sloan blew both doors off the Double Door tonight in Chicago. I had a couple early takers from a pool of co-workers and all of them bailed, but I’m glad. Being by myself allowed the freedom to park myself dead center, three rows from the mayhem and just let it blow through me. Compared to last week’s 7 on the energy scale, this Monday night tilt spiked to 11. From “Believe in Me” off the new record through “The Good in Everyone” from 1998’s One Chord to Another, the set list tempo built and about ¾ through the set, the band was singeing the nose hairs eyebrows off early arrivers in the front row.

I’m looking forward to seeing the set list and photos on Sloan’s site, but flying out of the cobwebs are “All I Am Is All You’re Not,” “Emergency 911,” “Burn For It,” of course “I’m Not a Kid Anymore,” “Witch’s Wand” and “Ill Placed Trust” which may have been the peak of the sonic boom that went on in that room until quenched with ice hot Coke fizz.

I’m sorry, but my words just can’t convey it.

After the show, nicest guy in rock Chris Murphy chatted with fans, posed for pics and signed autographs. I stuck around just to hear this extraordinary “regular” guy talk about music, the hard graders among the fan base, working in Canada, content laws up North, his songwriting inspiration (he has none) and barely breaking even on US tours. He said they’d likely never tour Europe because of the cost and because “no one knows who we are over there.” What a loss for European music fans. They should give up Molson and import some Sloan. We chatted a bit about last weeks TT’s show, I thanked him for the music and said goodbye.

On the solo cab ride from the club back to the “W Lakeshore,” it occurred to me I’ve avoided those situations in the past. Years ago I recalled Jeff chatting with Jeff Tweedy after a Wilco show, and I hung back. When I took Megan to see Sloan in Hampton a couple summers ago, we ran into Chris outside after the show, but said nothing… Not tonight. Not anymore. Maybe I’m starting to figure this thing out.

“Ill placed trust
Buried in dust…”

Sloan

“Your seat will be assigned at the gate,” advised the United Airlines baggage attendant. When I responded, “That doesn’t sound good,” there was silence of voice and expression that didn’t provide any reason for optimism. As I took my last step approaching the gate desk, the woman holding the microphone requested I appear. We exchanged my license for a seat 5E boarding pass. For those of you playing at home, “E” is between “D” and “F.” Ugh…

Scanning the cabin on entry I shuddered to see an enormous young woman in the window seat, but proceeded to take my seat in the ¾ of 5E that she wasn’t occupying. She was very squirmy next to me and I felt bad knowing how self conscious she was feeling. This young lady was big and very tall. I positioned myself in the fetal position for the flight. When the cabin doors closed I noticed air in seat 3C on the aisle, so I went for it.

I dropped my backpack on the seat and then said to myself, “Self, yes, that’s a very attractive woman in the window seat, so don’t be a schmuck.” She looked at me and I actually said hi. What the hell was wrong with me? I fumbled with my iPod and earphones for a while, but it was too early to put them on, so I opened up “Creating Rainmakers: The Manager’s Guide to Training Professionals to Attract New Clients.” The book kept my attention for the requisite 5 pages when I turned and glanced at the book the blonde, professional looking woman was viewing from behind her reading glasses.

It looked like a chemistry or biology book with molecular diagrams and other bubble-like illustrations. “What is it that you’re reading?” A couple hours later after discussing her Mom’s amazing recovery from leukemia with stem-cell therapy and my tales of the genetic mysteries behind the miracle called Kyle, we hit the O’Hare runway. As we taxied toward the gate I took some George Costanza advice and did “the opposite” of what I’ve been doing for the past decade or so. “Would you like to continue this conversation another time?” “Yes” rebounded with a smile.

I have no idea what, if anything, will come of this, but as I walked toward the baggage area, I didn’t need the moving sidewalk to propel me. “The opposite” had put some air under me, which does contrast the usual air of a regretful sigh.

Two headphone cycles while mowing my weeds is cementing “Parallel Play” as my favorite Sloan record yet. As the most democratic quad-core in rock, this Canadian band splits songwriting and vocals almost equally between Chris Murphy (bass) Patrick Pentland (lead guitar), Jay Ferguson (rhythm guitar), and Andrew Scott (drums). Live, they also swap roles when Scott grabs a guitar and Murphy just makes a mess behind the kit. Honestly, that used to be my “whatever” part of a show, but Scott’s songs on Parallel Play (Emergency 911, Down in the Basement) are so strong I’m getting over it.

Even muffled by the um, muffler of a lawnmower, my (product placement warning) Etymotic Research ER6i Isolator In-Ear Earphones deliver sound and syntax smoothly.

There’s irony to one particular song for me. For Chris Murphy, the song laments 40 on his horizon. I’m a more than a decade further down that bridge we build as we walk. At the live shows I usually scan the crowd for some dude older than me. I always find someone, usually some toasted hippie, but if I keep going, some night my search may be in vain. Actually, the crowd scan is pretty pointless anyway, but I’ll do it again Monday night when Sloan rocks Chicago’s historic Double Door.

Whew… It’s been a rush of life the past few days and coffee jolts the drag of sleep deprivation. With no Celtics or Sloan tonight, there’ll be an early ascent of the bedroom stairs for an accelerated descent to REM. 24 hours ago I shared a pre-Sloan table at Greek Corner in Cambridge with my pal Jeff, and our “dates,” Megan and Mallory. On the drive in I mentioned Sloan’s Monday night show in Chicago, to which Megan inquired, “what if they suck tonight?” I calmly explained, “Sloan doesn’t suck. Ever.” As soon as she agreed, I let my girl back in the car and we continued on our way.

Fifteen minutes from the 10:45 show time, Megan announced she didn’t have her ID for the 18+ show. After some tense moments, I handed her $40 and put her and Mal-pal in a cab to go get her ID in the car parked, yeah, fifteen minutes away. Jeff and I went into the club where I proceeded to buy us a drink, hand $20 to the bartender and walk away. No change. Idiot. The worrying father then sent a text to daughter instructing her to make sure she had the cabbie wait while she got her license. She quickly thumbed me back:

“Dad, you have my car key.”

I took a long swig of my Ketel and Red Bull as Jeff laughed at the farce.

Tick-tock, tick-tock… We were now at 11:00 and both the band and the girls were still missing… Well, actually the musicians were walking relatively anonymously through the venue. Finally they began shuffling on stage and around 11:05 launched into “I’m Not a Kid Anymore,” about fifteen seconds after Megan and Mallory somehow got into the club.

It wasn’t the best Sloan show I’ve ever seen, but the new material was great and I heard an old song for the first time that was killer, even with some fan they pulled from the audience singing it…

Happy 8th month Birthday, Maddy. Papi’s going to bed.