Author: fifteenkey (Page 59 of 95)

A Wilco hangover has me drowning in the musical hair of the dog that bit me last Thursday night. A search of their song title on flickr produces these photos and the one featured here by Incandenza.

“Sicko” is on my list of current films to see, along with well, not much. If I can find “Waitress” or “Manufactured Landscapes” I’ll check ‘em out before “Harry Potter – Order of the Phoenix” rises July 11th. Kyle is counting the days…

Michael Moore has an agenda. His thesis in “Sicko” is that our healthcare system gouges the sick to enrich corporations. I recall prefacing my remarks to someone about “Fahrenheit 911” with “go into it understanding he has a strong point of view.” “911” took on the Bush administration for linking that day to Iraq as justification for a war that now is longer than our time in WWII. “Bowling for Columbine” took on the Omega man and the gun lobby, and “Roger and Me” attacked General Motors for giving CEO Roger Smith millions in salary increases while fired ex-employees were getting evicted from their homes in Flint, MI.

For these indiscretions, Mr. Moore is derided by Sean Hannity, Ann Coulter and Rush as a hater of America. He’s a dissenter, I’ll give you that, but does he hate our country? Thomas Jefferson once said, “dissent is the highest form of patriotism.” Perhaps his agenda is to shine a movie spotlight on important areas we might improve in our society, or at least debate. Sadly, a growing majority of citizens have no interest or ability to debate the environment, healthcare, corporate governance or the military industrial complex. Today while they’re home scanning the dial for a Paris Hilton 4th of July special, our flags adorn the coffins of their children.

What’s the future look like on the canvas of your life? Does it resemble photographic realism with intricate details, or just broad strokes of impressions? How are you creating that future image? What’s your plan? What are your goals? Will you let the future happen or make it happen? In business, we set ‘SMART” goals and attach bonuses to their achievement:

• S Specific
• M Measurable
• A Attainable
• R Relevant
• T Time-bound

It’s amazing how people’s business behavior is so strongly influenced by their goals. Sometimes the behaviors required to reach personal goals conflict with the goals of others or even overall corporate goals. Still, like salmon swimming upstream in pursuit of their goal, individuals fight blindly through the onrushing water toward their own goals, sometimes ending gnashed in the jaws of a bear. The point is the power of goals.

Do you set goals? Not “I wish I was rich” or “I’d like to have a girlfriend” or “I want a new job,” but SMART, written goals.

What are your goals?

“She won’t stop moving,” Megan complained as her unborn daughter rocked out to Wilco Thursday night at the BOA Pavilion on the Boston waterfront. The band was on mid-tempo fire and the undulating flow between mesmerizing and ass-kicking was perfect. The Boston Globe thought it rocked. I wonder if Sean McAdam agreed?

This post title is a comment I read on a fan board posted by someone who overheard a new fan when the band played “Passenger Side” from 1995’s “A.M.” Pretty funny. Megan’s favorite back then was “Casino Queen” from the same debut record, but the queen wasn’t in the house on this night. Here’s what was:

Wilco setlist – Boston – June 28, 2007
Shot In The Arm
Side with the Seeds
You Are My Face
I Am Trying To Break Your Heart
Kamera
Handshake Drugs
On and On and On
Impossible Germany
Sky blue Sky
War On War
Jesus etc
Theologians
Walken
I’m The Man Who Loves You
Hummingbird
Spiders

E1:
Heavy Metal Drummer
California Stars
Hate It Here

E2:
Via Chicago
Passenger Side
Late Greats
Always In Love
OuttaSite (OuttaMind) – looked like Tweedy called an audible…

Hey, it’s beautiful out and I’ve got life to do, so I’ll take the easy way out with a link to the bands songwriting genius and a couple videos…

Here’s Part Two…

It is cool my future granddaughter’s first show was Wilco…

Staring at the big board, the faces contort across a spectrum from bemusement to irritation to disgust and despair. There’s a foot stomp, a couple-ah eye rolls and an occasional silent mouthed “f#$k.” The faces are black, white, brown, burka covered and often red as the 42” LCD’s turned on their sides deliver the news: “Cancelled”

My journey on AA is driving me to AA. My delayed Vegas flight caused a missed my 7:05 connection in Chicago and I didn’t make the stand-by cut for the 8:45. I now have a confirmed seat on a 10:25, but weather is delaying and cancelling flights all over the grid. I shouldn’t gripe, but you want me to. You know you do. You want me to rant and rail about how much airline travel sucks today and how I bitch slapped one apathetic employee after another who just doesn’t care anymore. I won’t and of course I didn’t. These poor folks are at the bottom of the corporate food chain, and every day they’re eating what makes lobster taste so good. Most of the airlines today are squeezing the life out of their people so they can squeeze out a few more points of margin to deliver to their shareholders. I’m not sure this is what Adam Smith had in mind. I think my days of customer loyalty to AA are over. The Southwest experience is so much better.

The Starbucks in the Vegas airport looked like the Baghdad Starbucks. It was open and items were out in the open for the taking. Behind the counter, it looked like it had been ransacked and abandoned with only trash and spilled coffee manning the station. I wanted to buy a water, but there was nary a soul to take my dinero. I placed the bottle back in the refrigerated case and then noticed a Starbucks-green clad human approaching at a very slow pace. “Hi. Can I buy this?” I asked the molasses paced 3rd shifter in a subdued 1am tone. “I don’t have any money, and those are cameras up there so if I give it to you I’ll get fired.” I see. I snailed my way down about ten gates to an open store and acquired the precious Aquafina, securely bottled in a petroleum-based plastic.

I’ve been up since 6:30 Pacific Time Tuesday. I guess that’s one more hour than a typical Jack Bauer day, but my day’s not done and is unlikely to end with me saving a city. I’d settle on getting to one. I did grab about 2 hours of z’s on zee plane. I would have likely achieved REM sleep had it not been for the woman I met in 19A. I don’t recall her name, but she works in publishing sales for a magazine targeted at nursing directors. She lives outside Grand Rapids, Michigan, has two younguns, a live-in nanny and a great marriage. It was a nice chat to pass some time before nappy-time.

I have no idea where to take this post, so I’ll take it where I want to go: home.

Update: We arrived at the gate 20 minutes early from Chicago then sat in the increasingly hot tube for 30 because they couldn’t connect the jetway. Upon entering the baggage area, there were hundreds of bags from the earlier flights and mine was among them. That was fun, as was finding my car after searching 4 different levels of Central Parking… Yeah, I forgot to write down my location. After searching for about 45 minutes, I asked a garage attendant. “Look at your receipt.” I don’t know how they tell you where you’re parked, but they do. Oh, and I got charged an extra $6 for the time I spent looking for my car!

In summary:
Hours spent in airports and planes since 11pm Pacific Tuesday night: 12
Hours spent looking for my bag and car: 2
Memories of my worst business trip ever: Well, you know the drill.

Oh, this would be sweet. A Republican plan to impeach Buckshot Dick may be the only way the Republicans have a shot in 2008. While we’re at it, let’s sack his dopey puppet too…

We’re live from McCarran International Airport where my “what was I thinking when I booked this red-eye” has devolved into a 40 minute flight delay and a new departure time of 1:25AM! (That’s 4:25 for you watching the clock at home.) Hey, at least this place has free Wi-Fi…

Since the SHRM show ended today at 2:00, I’ve killed 10 hours:

• Getting changed into shorts in a bathroom
• Strolling to the Wynn for a cocktail
• Continuing to the Venetian in the 100 degree sun to scout a dinner spot
• Traipsing one of the Strip footbridges to check out the Mirage
• Gawking with fellow gawkers at the club Revolution for a Beatle glimpse. Apparently, Pauly, Ringo, Yoko and George Harrison’s widow were there being interviewed by Larry King, high on formaldehyde.
• After a non-fab glimpse, my wallet gently wept after a round of drinks at Stock, the Mirage steakhouse.
• After all that I ended up back at the Treasure Island Sports Book just in time to see a Yankee pitcher walk in the winning run against the O’s. Nice!
• Btw, the Pats are 1-1 to win the AFC East and 2-1 to win their 4th championship in 7 years.
• Oh, and the Sox are currently the favorites at 5-2 to win their 2nd championship in 4 years, or their 3rd in 90 years, depending on your particular point of view.
• Speaking of alternative points of view, the Yankees are 10-1 to win the Series, which is really good when you consider a team has to make the playoffs to get there…
• Dinner was an encore at Ilsa, a sweet Mexican joint in TI.
• Ah, more good news from the American agent at Gate D8… I’m unlikely to make my 7:05 connection in Chicago…
• Anyway… After dinner I headed back to the Sports Book to watch the Sox lose lamely to the Mariners. At that point, I’d had enough Vegas, and didn’t drop a dime gambling.

Oh, one last Vegas note,,, I was actually considering taking the kids here for a little vacation including a few shows, Hoover Dam and the big hole, but what is up with $159 dollars for Celine Dion tickets? What a Vegas vacation buzz kill. I don’t think I could sit through her whole show, but Kyle would be absolutely thrilled to see her. I’m hoping the stunting of his manhood would be temporary…

Not really. While it is a sin I couldn’t eat the whole slab of dry-aged NY sirloin at The Steak House in Treasure Island, that’s the only sin I committed yesterday. Well, on second thought, let’s review the tape against the 7 Deadly Sins:

1. Lust – Hmmm…not a good start. I did think about how hot that hostess was…more than once.
2. Gluttony – It’s all relative, but the meal began with a mixed greens salad with Roma tommy’s and 3 olives soaking in Bombay gin. The aforementioned NY strip was ordered medium (it arrived more medium-rare, but with a glorious bulb of roasted garlic as a garnish…) with grilled asparagus with a glass of Chappellet Mountain Cuvee. No app, spud or desert…
3. Greed – John from Seattle was my waiter. John appeared to be doing the waiter gig as a retiree, but I didn’t ask. The bill was $91.00 and I left John from Seattle $20.
4. Sloth – Nope. Upon arrival, I hit up Wet for a couple hours of weights, abs and stairs, followed by a Jacuzzi, dry and wet sauna.
5. Wrath – Uh, no. After Wet, I was about as wrathful as overdone fettuccine.
6. Envy – I’ll admit, upon seeing some very attractive women with seemingly dopey men, I wondered why this dopey guy doesn’t have one. Wikipedia states Dante defined this as “love of one’s own good perverted to a desire to deprive other men of theirs.” I see.
7. Pride – I’ll cite Wikipedia again for their described “excessive love of self.” No, there was none of that, but my eyesight is getting kinda bad.

Firstborn sons have higher IQs, Norway study finds

Uhhhh, duh.

Well, I’m off to Sin City soon. Hopefully I’ll have some sins to write about for your reading pleasure.

Yep, it’s another edition of Tube Time, or ramblings above 25,000 feet! It’s time to sit back, relax, and enjoy whatever is squirming through my oxygen deprived mind.

Cleveland. It’s the butt of many “city jokes” like, “it could be worse. We could be in Cleveland,” but my day here has somewhat changed my view on “the mistake by the lake.” Actually, that unkind description was tagged to the old Municipal Stadium. The old ball yard had fog, wind and cold issues similar to those in San Francisco’s Candlestick Park except it was in Cleveland. The former home of the Browns, Indians and the inaugural venue of the RnR Hall of Fame is now just a memory, but it’s immortalized, at least in my mind, by the words of ex-Sox hurler “Oil Can” Boyd, who insightfully described the environment after a game was postponed due to fog, “That’s what they get for building a park on the ocean.”

iPod aside: “Impossible Germany” (track 3) from Wilco’s new record is a tour de force. I’m not sure if “tour de force” really fits here, but damn…

After a gridlock-free trip from our office in Independence, OH to Jacobs Field and $10 parking a pitching wedge from the entrance, six of us gathered for a beer at an adjacent beer joint for um, beers. I savored a locally brewed Dortmunder and recommend it for your next trip to Cleveland. It was still north of ninety degrees when we crossed the street to the ballpark. As we sauntered through the warm, dry air a twenty foot statue of Indian’s great Bob Feller passed by my left shoulder. “Wow, that is cool,” I cleverly commented to our host, Tom. “Yeah, too bad he was a lefty,” Tom replied. “Really,” I asked, the hook firmly planted in my cheek. Good one, Tom.

Having flunked my baseball history quiz, I sheepishly entered the cavernous park and soaked it all in… sun, heat, beer, a dog… It was a beautiful night for baseball and a nice 24 hours in Cleveland.

After working Father’s Day morning on a presentation, the plan was to hit up the Hopper exhibit at the MFA. We arrived at 1:00 to discover the first available viewing was not until 3:00, and I knew Kyle would be “Les Miserables” if we were gawking art for 3 hours, so we needed a Plan B. About an hour later, we were eating a Bianchi’s Pizza in a warm breeze under some shade at Revere Beach and I said to my munching Megan and Kyle, “this is better than the museum.” Just then my phone vibrated with Father’s Day wishes from Mom. “I thought you’d be coming over. I made meatballs.” I see. Winding up Revere Beach Boulevard, a jeep merged in front of us. It had one of those “Life is Good” stickers affixed to it’s bumper. “Yeah,” I thought, “it is.”