War

U2 plays in Dallas this weekend. I like U2, but have never seen them. That time is passed because I will not pay to see a show in an arena --- it is usually an experience that is wasted on me.

The time to see them was 1983 when I was in the 10th grade. My buddy Bryan and his friend Dave, who was a few months older than us and had a driver's license, went to the Bronco Bowl to see U2 on the War tour. I wasn't cool enough to be invited. Anyway, Bryan raved and raved about the show. And like any high school kid, he bought a concert t-shirt. But this wasn't any t-shirt. A week before U2 came to Dallas, they had been in Colorado, filming a live show at the Red Rocks theatre. And the footage from that show, in which Bono's cold breath steams from his mouth and he prances around the stage with a white flag with rock formations behind him, was used for the "Sunday Bloody Sunday" video --- one of the most popular videos ever played on MTV. And in that video, the image of the classic mulleted Bono was cast, wearing the sleeveless black t-shirt with a white flag on the front and back. The concert t that Bryan bought was the exact same shirt Bono wore in the video.

The next year Bryan moved to Atlanta and made a bunch of new friends. One of them was a fellow rock fan. And Bryan impressed this new friend by swapping concert shirts. Bryan traded the War tour shirt --- one that would fetch several hundred dollars on Ebay today --- for a pink Sammy Hagar T- shirt.

Weird, random Google searches

The vast majority of Google searches I do at work are indeed work related. If you hit the drop down list of searches I've performed over the last couple of weeks, you'll find scores and scores of names of lawyers, law firms and judges. But you'll also find a curious mix of non legal-related items. Most of the searches are entertainment and music related. And most of these random searches, which are sort of like a road map to where my mind wanders, are performed on my lunch hour (should any of my corporate superiors read this blog. Hi!) Anyway, here's some of the random crap I've look at over the last few weeks. Surprisingly, none of the searches were porn or naked woman related. They include:

Penelope Spheeris

el gato and denton

the happy bullets

bam morris and arrested

nickelback is shitty

wesley willis

joe mccarthy

morningwood

j.d. tippett

houston rapper suicide

green eggs and ham

Sticker Conundrum

I have a Supergrass and a Franz Ferdinand sticker sitting on top of my dresser drawer. I got them free at an Idlewild show about a month ago. They are promos for each band's respective new album. I strongly support both of these bands and don't mind letting the whole world know that fact. But should I place these stickers on the rear window of my hard rockin' 1983 Ranger pickup? I mean honestly, does a 38-year-old have any business having stickers for indie rock bands on his vehicle? I'm not sure what the age cut off is for having stickers on your car. But I'm tempted to go ahead and put them on the window as a strike against the man. In Dallas everybody still has fading "W" stickers on their Lexuses . And you can usually find those stickers applied to the the paint job. That jacks up the finish Einstein.

Real Food

Karen's been on a kick lately that we eat "real food". To her, this means eating food that neither comes out of a box nor a can. And in my house, that means that I make the food --- Karen's patience with such tasks wears thin after about 10 minutes. That's O.K. I am no stranger to the kitchen --- and I better not be since I spent the proceeds of the sale of my beloved 1969 Mach 1 Mustang to remodel the kitchen in our house.

So this weekend I busted out the real food quadruple threat. Meatloaf, mashed potatoes, fresh green beans and peanut butter pie --- food which was all prepared without the help of a box or a can. It ruled. I'd make someone a very good wife.

Wichita Falls, Texas

At the last minute, I got a call from Will. He was heading from Colorado to his home town of Wichita Falls on Friday to pick up some furniture from his Mom's house. He wanted to know if I'd be willing to drive up and assist him in ruining this high plains town. Sach made the trip with him and his sister Ashley and friend Mark were coming up from Dallas too. There wasn't even a question. We indeed layed waste to the Old Town Bar, annoyed the locals with a couple of pair of comically thick glasses, exchanged a load of stories and then ate an enormous breakfast the next morning made by the able hands of Will's mom. Ashley, Mark and Will's mom took me on a tour of both cool and creepy old houses the next morning. Then I headed home Saturday afternoon with a newfound respect for both Wichita Falls and Will's very cool immediate family.

Something Stinks

I opened my closet door this morning and a maloderous scent wifted into my nostrils. Was it from the sandals I've worn all summer long? The socks that have been simmering in the laundry bin for two weeks? My unmentionables? Where is it coming from? Where, where?

Hardly Working

I just realized today that I spend too much time at work. I get in a good hour to hour and a half before most of my co-workers. I do that because when you're stuck in a cube, quiet time is at a premium. I usually bring my lunch, so I eat at my desk. And then I leave at 5 p.m.

I probably spend two extra hours a day at work. Oddly, this is due to the fact that I'm anti-social as hell at work. I like to be left the fuck alone in the morning so I can decipher insurance coverage appellate decisions without having filter out other people's yacking. And I destest eating in the company kitchen because that's like asking for a small talk ass whipping.

I'm a jerk.

sixteen candles secrets

Everytime the edited-for-television version of Sixteen Candles is shown, I'll watch the hell out of that movie. It's more fun to watch that version because it's fun to have a movie you know by heart throw you a curve. The edited-for-television version has random deleted scenes added which I guess were included to make the film last a whole two hours with commercials. One additional scene shows Samantha Baker going through the cafeteria line and remarking that she can't believe she's about to eat a cafeteria hamburger. And she enters the seating area, she drops her tray and runs out of the cafeteria when she spots Jake Ryan. She says "I don't want Jake to know that I eat."

I just spotted another deleted scene in a edited for television version that was on cable (what?) although it's a subtle change. It occurs when the family is on their way to the wedding and spots Long Duk Dong on the yard, passed out drunk. Grandpa launches into the "where is Grandpas Auto-Mo-Beel?" inquiry of LDD. And after he says "Leck, Big Leck" Grandma hauls off and kicks him in the balls and calls him a "scuzzbag."

I wonder if the DVD of this movies includes all of these deleted scenes? If it does, I'm renting it this weekend for sure.

Blown Away

I had a dream last night that all of the shingles blew off my house. I went outside to look at the damage. And as I was contemplating what to do, an angry old man in a panel van drove up on my lawn and tried to run me over.

The trouble with this dream is that neither of these two actions are that far fetched.

Bad Rock Photography

I took 83 pictures at a Gang of Four show last night. Because this may be my one and only time to see the band that invented post punk in 1979, I figured over photographing the event would be a good idea. The problem is, this one of the only pictures that is any good. And for some reason, Andy Gill is green.

Nation of Idiots

As if you need another reason to think the United States is country comprised only of complete retards, look no further than the Billboard Charts this week. There in the number one slot you'll find Nickelback.

Why do I hate Nickelback? Let me count the ways.

I trace my hate of Nickelback back to Pearl Jam, the most overrated band to come out of the Seattle grunge scene of the late 80's. They pioneered the art of repetitious song writing and irritating overwrought singing. Even though I despise Pearl Jam, at least I gave them originality points. If you like Pearl Jam, that's okay. However if you like Creed --- a huge Pearl Jam ripoff act --- I have no mercy for you. These guys are worthy of everyone's ire because they stole from Pearl Jam, denied it, and sold even more albums than Pearl Jam to legions of suckers. They were an embarrassment to the entertainment industry --- a ballless, soulless, corporate band invented to make money. After Creed's terrible lead singer Scott Stapp got too big for the band and broke it up so "he could go in a different direction" which was nowhere, up to the plate stepped Nickelback. Nickelback offers us the same tortured singing, the same bad lyrics, and the same carbon copy boring melodies as Creed. And America loves them for it. It's like everybody's embracing 1993 over and over and over again.

So keep it up Nickelback. You're just contributing to the next music revolution that will hopefully will wipe you from everyone's memories.

Boy this is an angry post.

Rocketing to Obscurity

On Sunday, I met a woman whose last name used to be Dignan. She got divorced and is named something else now. So having a movie brain, I started to wonder. Did this woman know she had the same last name as the main character in "Bottle Rocket" --- the first movie starring Owen & Luke Wilson that was shot in Richardson and Dallas by then first time director Wes Anderson? I didn't say anything about it. And then I asked her about her sons. The oldest one's name is Stephen Dignan and he lives in New York and currently employed as a "free spirit" whatever that means. We talked about his high school years, and since he's fairly close to me in age, I asked who his friends were. Then she mentioned that Owen Wilson was one of his friends, but in a matter of fact instead of a name-dropping way. And sure enough, he was in the mix during the filming of Bottle Rocket. They wanted to film part of the movie in the woman's house, but apparantly Dad was out on that. And yes, the inspiration for character Dignan was this woman's son, she says. He got a bit part in the movie. Because I'm not the trusting sort I looked up the credits for this 1996 movie. Sure enough, the part of "Rob" is played by Stephen Dignan.

Bombs Away

When I become obsessed with something, usually that affliction is for keeps. WWII bomber jackets are a good example. In high school I was at a book store one day browsing and I picked up a book that had a ton of photographs of WWII bomber crews wearing their leather jackets. I though they were the coolest things I'd ever seen. What made the jackets stand out is what the crews painted on them. Bored between missions, the crews would decorate their jackets with all kinds of borderline obscene stuff --- naked women, pictures of bombs dropping on Hitler and various cartoon characters tossing bombs and flipping the bird. It was a way of showing a bit of well deserved swagger. Half the guys who wore those jackets --- at least in 1941 in the European theatre when the fighting was most intense --- got killed. I got my first bomber jacket in 1986 when they were real popular. I've worn them ever since. I started replicating actual WWII bomber jackets from vintage photos several years ago. The jacket on the left with the grim reaper painted on it was worn by the 375th Bomb Squadron. They flew B24 Liberators --- lumbering boxy four engine bombers --- in the Pacific theater and hunted Japanese submarines and bombed naval yards. The one in the middle is from the 100th Bomb Squadron which flew B-29 Super Fortresses --- huge bombers developed late in the war that eventually dropped the atomic bomb on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. The one on the right was worn by the 350th Bomb Squadron which flew B-17 Flying Fortresses --- the coolest looking and most durable bomber of the war. That squadron flew in Europe and lost over half of their men to anti-aircraft fire and German fighter planes.

The Dumbest Photo I've Ever Taken

Should you find yourself near an eye-popping waterfall in Colorado with a camera, don't take this picture. Like an insect that was drawn to a porch light at night, I got right up on this slice of nature. I was so close that the water was splashing on me. Seconds after I snapped this frame, a rock about the size of a golf ball fell from about 800 feet above and drilled me right in the stomach. It hurt like hell. I have no doubt that if the rock hit me in the head, I would have been knocked cold. Instead, I had a real nice abdominal bruise that turned all blue and green and lasted a good three weeks. Sexy.

Eating Bugs

Last night, I watched this crazy Mexican documentary about people who live out in the beautiful boondocks of Oaxaca who are avid bug eaters. This is not a fetish among many residents of this southeastern Mexican state. They just like to eat bugs. It's a common and reliable food source. And after watching most all of this 30 minutes documentary called "Eating Insects" I started coming around on the logic of Oaxacan bug eaters. They tend to favor these biting worms that they shake from trees and various crickets that hop along the ground. One man put it this way: "We feel sorry for people who live in the cities because they have no idea where their food comes from. Here, we know exactly were our food comes from. And we also know that it's fresh." He's got me there. I actually plan to visit Oaxaca sometime in the near future. And eating a worm taco will be on the agenda. Of course, I'll likely wimp out on the full bug taste and bury the taco with salsa, cillantro and onions. But I draw the line on crickets though --- too crunchy.

My favorite part of this show was an interview they did with two shy little Oaxacan kids. They showed them picking up worms, eating a couple of them, and putting them in plastic bags. They were for sale, they told the filmmakers. Then they took their bags and stood on the side of the highway, holding up the insects as if they were running a lemonade stand. Nobody stopped to make a purchase though.

I wonder if Ava can fill me in some more about bug eating in her country. I'm guessing this isn't real popular in Northern Mexico. I've yet to see them on a menu. But maybe I'm visiting the wrong restaurants.

Jackoffs at the Table

Is there anything stupider than a group of 30-year-olds playing foosball? Here, I'm playing the absolute worst game of foosball ever. I am useless. And I don't even have the excuse that I'd been drinking too much. So guy in the long sleeve University of Michigan shirt starts in with the major league insults and high fives like we're involved in the world series of foosball. And this man is a doctor of medicine.

Musical Anvil

This is what happens to my face when it gets hit with bad live music at the state fair.