Thursday, May 27, 2004
Surreal for Breakfast:
I may or may not have (wink wink nudge nudge) assisted a former business associate of Dodi Fayed sell his car on eBay this afternoon over turkey sandwiches and potato salad.
It doesn't get any weirder than that for a Thursday Beatle People...
I may or may not have (wink wink nudge nudge) assisted a former business associate of Dodi Fayed sell his car on eBay this afternoon over turkey sandwiches and potato salad.
It doesn't get any weirder than that for a Thursday Beatle People...
Wednesday, May 26, 2004
Oh blog I've neglected you like history has neglected Al "I Swear Was a Beach Boy" Jardine...
I could tell today was going better than the previous as soon I discovered the compilimentary chocolate milk standing tall and proud in the company fridge...the little things y'know?
More to follow when inspirato returns..
I could tell today was going better than the previous as soon I discovered the compilimentary chocolate milk standing tall and proud in the company fridge...the little things y'know?
More to follow when inspirato returns..
Monday, May 24, 2004
Boo Yah! Another lost Del Shannon record is mine...
Monday has peaked.
Monday has peaked.
Friday, May 21, 2004
Thank F*ck Its Friday!
A sign of my growing maturity is that I'm actually excited to hear the new Morrissey album.
Years ago I derided Morrissey and The Smiths for being a bit to wanky but now the pop music landscape is so bereft of anything resembling talent that old enemies have become allies...at least as far as my CD collection's concerned.
I'm still savoring Fargo Rock City (by Chuck "RAWK" Klosterman). Hannah read it in about 23 minutes, but I choose to piecemeal my reading as I have a hard time letting good books and superior British music monthlies come to an end. (I've been known to sit on new MOJO for three weeks before cracking the plastic..) Is it neurosis? Jew-rosis? Who knows? Wait don't tell me, I can't handle endings...
Good Nacht!
A sign of my growing maturity is that I'm actually excited to hear the new Morrissey album.
Years ago I derided Morrissey and The Smiths for being a bit to wanky but now the pop music landscape is so bereft of anything resembling talent that old enemies have become allies...at least as far as my CD collection's concerned.
I'm still savoring Fargo Rock City (by Chuck "RAWK" Klosterman). Hannah read it in about 23 minutes, but I choose to piecemeal my reading as I have a hard time letting good books and superior British music monthlies come to an end. (I've been known to sit on new MOJO for three weeks before cracking the plastic..) Is it neurosis? Jew-rosis? Who knows? Wait don't tell me, I can't handle endings...
Good Nacht!
Thursday, May 20, 2004
A little calm in the office and a bloggin' I go!
Though the news of two(!!) new Brian Wilson records excites me to write volumes I thought I'd reprint one of my classic rants against the overrated pop anomaly known as Ryan Adams.
Enjoy.
It seems every where I turn its "Ryan Adams this" & "Ryan Adams saved my cat from colon cancer"…well damn it all to Hades, I've just had enough of this heresy and I'm here to restore the Rock crown to the real Great White Hope from the Great White North….Bryan Adams!
Have we forgotten how Bryan Adams sacrificed his childhood for us to rock our collect asses off? Don't believe me? Think I'm full of hot gas and hooey? Just check out the lyrics to Summer of '69:
"I got my first real six string
Bought it at the five and dime
Played it til my fingers bled
Was the summer of '69"
Bryan was a mere 10 years old (born November 5, 1959) when his first band broke up in the midst of small-town politics and heartache, yet he gave us his all even though he knew his best years were already behind him ("Those were the best days of my life"). How many ten year-olds are that self-aware?
Everything he did, from Cuts Like A Knife to 18 Til I Die, he did for us. Now this Ryan Adams, this poster boy for sleep-deprivation and bed-headed hipster-boy blunder, this Dwight Hokum is going to steal Bryan's thunder? Over my dead body! Sure Whiskeytown was a fine bar band but if BRYAN Adams fronted them they could've been the next Damn Yankees!
Two rock singers with names so similar it would confuse even our President? Not on my watch! And Ryan, boy you a merely a visitor in the house that Bryan Adams built…heck, you ain't even good enough to loiter around his guest-house on Sundays!
Still think I'm full of Limbaugh-fuel? Ryan's so-called lyrical prowess couldn't light a hospital Christmas tree…I give you Exhibit A (from his amateurish haiku To Be The One):
"And the knives up in the kitchen are all too dull to smile
yeah and the sun it tries to warn me
boy those wings are made of wax …"
So the sun is trying to warn you Ryan?…right…and waxed covered wings? This ain't Touched By Angel! Boy, this is America not some damn hippie ice-coffee house open-mic night damn it!
Bryan Adams is the real deal. As real as my Chevy and as American as Charlie Daniels, and when all is said and done and the history books are scribed, these are the words that'll be remembered:
"Standin' on your Mama's porch
You told me that you'd wait forever
Oh and when you held my hand
I knew that it was now or never
Those were the best days of my life
Back in the summer of '69…"
Real words from a real man…Are you man enough Ryan? Then change your goddamn name!!!
Though the news of two(!!) new Brian Wilson records excites me to write volumes I thought I'd reprint one of my classic rants against the overrated pop anomaly known as Ryan Adams.
Enjoy.
It seems every where I turn its "Ryan Adams this" & "Ryan Adams saved my cat from colon cancer"…well damn it all to Hades, I've just had enough of this heresy and I'm here to restore the Rock crown to the real Great White Hope from the Great White North….Bryan Adams!
Have we forgotten how Bryan Adams sacrificed his childhood for us to rock our collect asses off? Don't believe me? Think I'm full of hot gas and hooey? Just check out the lyrics to Summer of '69:
"I got my first real six string
Bought it at the five and dime
Played it til my fingers bled
Was the summer of '69"
Bryan was a mere 10 years old (born November 5, 1959) when his first band broke up in the midst of small-town politics and heartache, yet he gave us his all even though he knew his best years were already behind him ("Those were the best days of my life"). How many ten year-olds are that self-aware?
Everything he did, from Cuts Like A Knife to 18 Til I Die, he did for us. Now this Ryan Adams, this poster boy for sleep-deprivation and bed-headed hipster-boy blunder, this Dwight Hokum is going to steal Bryan's thunder? Over my dead body! Sure Whiskeytown was a fine bar band but if BRYAN Adams fronted them they could've been the next Damn Yankees!
Two rock singers with names so similar it would confuse even our President? Not on my watch! And Ryan, boy you a merely a visitor in the house that Bryan Adams built…heck, you ain't even good enough to loiter around his guest-house on Sundays!
Still think I'm full of Limbaugh-fuel? Ryan's so-called lyrical prowess couldn't light a hospital Christmas tree…I give you Exhibit A (from his amateurish haiku To Be The One):
"And the knives up in the kitchen are all too dull to smile
yeah and the sun it tries to warn me
boy those wings are made of wax …"
So the sun is trying to warn you Ryan?…right…and waxed covered wings? This ain't Touched By Angel! Boy, this is America not some damn hippie ice-coffee house open-mic night damn it!
Bryan Adams is the real deal. As real as my Chevy and as American as Charlie Daniels, and when all is said and done and the history books are scribed, these are the words that'll be remembered:
"Standin' on your Mama's porch
You told me that you'd wait forever
Oh and when you held my hand
I knew that it was now or never
Those were the best days of my life
Back in the summer of '69…"
Real words from a real man…Are you man enough Ryan? Then change your goddamn name!!!
Wednesday, May 19, 2004
The only things today (as I compile meaningless spreadsheets for the clinically insane) that are keeping my sanity from disappearing like the 8 Track Tape are:
1. A new studio recording of Brian Wilson's Smile due out Sept.28
2. Black Sabbath reuniting
3. My wedding.
4. Fargo Rock City
5. My turtle.
1. A new studio recording of Brian Wilson's Smile due out Sept.28
2. Black Sabbath reuniting
3. My wedding.
4. Fargo Rock City
5. My turtle.
Monday, May 17, 2004
Mondays like The Beatles' cover of "Mr.Moonlight" completely suck, except Mondays at work suck even harder because Ringo Starr doesn't share a cube with me...bummer.
Friday, May 14, 2004
Finally...!
First a debt of gratitude to the pro-active bus rider who sent a bumblebee to meet Jesus early this morning while en route to work...I owe my sting-free shoulder to this fine citizen.
Secondly, to Mario (as in Machado - Broadcasting Legend) for another entertaining lunch full of international flavor...especially the post-sushi ice cream parlor visit where he asked the Israeli behind the counter what he did for a living in the "Old Country". Moments like these are to be treasured for a lunch-time.
Thirdly, to Mr.Chuck Klosterman and his love letter to 80's Hair Metal Fargo Rock City for Rawking my work week like a hurricane! I wasted no time getting on the KISS/Poison Pre-sale as a result...Sometimes I feel the author and I lived parallel lives growing up. The headbanger-scribe speaks fondly of laughing his arse off at his farmer father for referring to another farmer's homely cattle herd as a "motley crew" (oblivious to the band of the same name)...totally reminding me of the time my dad asked if the long haired freaky person scaling the English mountain side in The Song Remains The Same was "Led Zeppelin". Being already somewhat of a snide Rock Snob at 14, I said "No Dad, that's his brother Phil".
Lastly, to the lovely Hannah who not only puts up with my KISS-rosis but turned me to the Fargo Rock City. I think I just might marry that gal.
Goodnight, godspeed, and as George Harrison once said "Thanks For The Pepperoni".
First a debt of gratitude to the pro-active bus rider who sent a bumblebee to meet Jesus early this morning while en route to work...I owe my sting-free shoulder to this fine citizen.
Secondly, to Mario (as in Machado - Broadcasting Legend) for another entertaining lunch full of international flavor...especially the post-sushi ice cream parlor visit where he asked the Israeli behind the counter what he did for a living in the "Old Country". Moments like these are to be treasured for a lunch-time.
Thirdly, to Mr.Chuck Klosterman and his love letter to 80's Hair Metal Fargo Rock City for Rawking my work week like a hurricane! I wasted no time getting on the KISS/Poison Pre-sale as a result...Sometimes I feel the author and I lived parallel lives growing up. The headbanger-scribe speaks fondly of laughing his arse off at his farmer father for referring to another farmer's homely cattle herd as a "motley crew" (oblivious to the band of the same name)...totally reminding me of the time my dad asked if the long haired freaky person scaling the English mountain side in The Song Remains The Same was "Led Zeppelin". Being already somewhat of a snide Rock Snob at 14, I said "No Dad, that's his brother Phil".
Lastly, to the lovely Hannah who not only puts up with my KISS-rosis but turned me to the Fargo Rock City. I think I just might marry that gal.
Goodnight, godspeed, and as George Harrison once said "Thanks For The Pepperoni".
Thursday, May 13, 2004
Note to self:
Always try to get on the 8:30am bus because if I hop on the 8:45 (like I did this morning) I will be subjected to an overcrowded unholy Third World Hellride and be forced to sit next to Hobo Jo and his Hefty Cinch-Sack garment bag and then have to be forced to stand up clumsily with my book in hand and headphones on, thereby turning my usually pleasant commute into HELLRIDE 2000: MTA BOOGALOO.
And usually all I wanna do is boogaloo (especially since I'm only 32)*, but the weekday morning bus commute is not really the time or place for such activities.
*thanks to Mr.Ringo Starr for being the first to officially Boogaloo at 32. Check out the lyrics to "Back Off Boogaloo" if you need varification*
Always try to get on the 8:30am bus because if I hop on the 8:45 (like I did this morning) I will be subjected to an overcrowded unholy Third World Hellride and be forced to sit next to Hobo Jo and his Hefty Cinch-Sack garment bag and then have to be forced to stand up clumsily with my book in hand and headphones on, thereby turning my usually pleasant commute into HELLRIDE 2000: MTA BOOGALOO.
And usually all I wanna do is boogaloo (especially since I'm only 32)*, but the weekday morning bus commute is not really the time or place for such activities.
*thanks to Mr.Ringo Starr for being the first to officially Boogaloo at 32. Check out the lyrics to "Back Off Boogaloo" if you need varification*
Wednesday, May 12, 2004
For those who are about to rock - I SALUTE ME!!
Why? Because my morning commute rocked to The Styx Anthology and Chuck Klosterman's Fargo Rock City...
More on this heady mixture right after I place a voodoo curse on Bill Gates for creating Excel and the colossal waste of time known as spreadsheet preparation.
Calgon take me away!
Why? Because my morning commute rocked to The Styx Anthology and Chuck Klosterman's Fargo Rock City...
More on this heady mixture right after I place a voodoo curse on Bill Gates for creating Excel and the colossal waste of time known as spreadsheet preparation.
Calgon take me away!
Monday, May 10, 2004
EMI has just reissued Pink Floyd's The Final Cut (Roger Waters' 1983 opus on Thatcherism, the Falkland Islands debacle, and the loss of his father who died in the second world war ).
This record has not lost any of its potency since its initial release (among my Top 5 Favorite Albums Ever), its themes on war and its inevitable human cost could not be any more applicable today.
Now with the inclusion of "When The Tigers Broke Free" (originally featured in the film "Pink Floyd The Wall" and released subsequently as a single in 1982), this record takes its place alongside Rock's most politically-charged works.
This album stands above its artist and no matter where your opinion of Pink Floyd or Roger Waters lies, this is an work of lyrical substance, keenly tuned to the concerns of the human condition.
This record has not lost any of its potency since its initial release (among my Top 5 Favorite Albums Ever), its themes on war and its inevitable human cost could not be any more applicable today.
Now with the inclusion of "When The Tigers Broke Free" (originally featured in the film "Pink Floyd The Wall" and released subsequently as a single in 1982), this record takes its place alongside Rock's most politically-charged works.
This album stands above its artist and no matter where your opinion of Pink Floyd or Roger Waters lies, this is an work of lyrical substance, keenly tuned to the concerns of the human condition.
Friday, May 07, 2004
"What does God need with a starship??" - Cap'n Kirk poses the deepest of all space travel-related questions in the William Shatner-helmed Star Trek 5. ..I wonder if that question was posed to Donald Rumsfeld (albiet slightly paraphrased) during his testimony in front of congress today. Snack foods for thought my friends.
In Other Snooze:
I've decided to carry my messenger bag by its brief case-esque handle, giving the illusion of that I Could Be Carrying Important Documents Inside rather than the slung-over-the-shoulder-man-purse-look that has thoroughly run its course.
Of course by Important Documents I mean the carefully selected REM and Small Faces cds selected for the morning commute and subsequent workday...
Have a De-lovely weekend Beatle People.
In Other Snooze:
I've decided to carry my messenger bag by its brief case-esque handle, giving the illusion of that I Could Be Carrying Important Documents Inside rather than the slung-over-the-shoulder-man-purse-look that has thoroughly run its course.
Of course by Important Documents I mean the carefully selected REM and Small Faces cds selected for the morning commute and subsequent workday...
Have a De-lovely weekend Beatle People.
Thursday, May 06, 2004
Revisions.
After a somewhat frustrating week in the land of make believe (Los Angeles as its known to its detractors) things are beginning to look up.
Early in the week coming down from a mighty Coachella high it seemed it was one goddang thing after another. I was denied some of the time off I requested for my upcoming wedding and made to feel guilty for even making such a grandiose request. Silly me, how dare I ask such things of my employer?? After all I AM ONLY GETTING FREAKIN' MARRIED!! God help me if I need to spend time in a hospital at some point. They would probally move my computer to the ICU...
All of this (not to mention hand-holding my boss everytime she can't open a goddang email correctly) makes me want to high tail-it back to the desert and commune with the turtles full time but I stay and endure.
Why? I love being in this stupid business and I love knowing what I'm doing now
relates to the future I'm building with the future Mrs. Speats.
After a somewhat frustrating week in the land of make believe (Los Angeles as its known to its detractors) things are beginning to look up.
Early in the week coming down from a mighty Coachella high it seemed it was one goddang thing after another. I was denied some of the time off I requested for my upcoming wedding and made to feel guilty for even making such a grandiose request. Silly me, how dare I ask such things of my employer?? After all I AM ONLY GETTING FREAKIN' MARRIED!! God help me if I need to spend time in a hospital at some point. They would probally move my computer to the ICU...
All of this (not to mention hand-holding my boss everytime she can't open a goddang email correctly) makes me want to high tail-it back to the desert and commune with the turtles full time but I stay and endure.
Why? I love being in this stupid business and I love knowing what I'm doing now
relates to the future I'm building with the future Mrs. Speats.
Wednesday, May 05, 2004
Oy ve
What a day....work is like a pair of trousers two sizes too small or watching Michael Jackson babysit today: completely uncomfortable.
A more deserving entry will appear tomorrow afternoon.
There's a reason why they call it work...
What a day....work is like a pair of trousers two sizes too small or watching Michael Jackson babysit today: completely uncomfortable.
A more deserving entry will appear tomorrow afternoon.
There's a reason why they call it work...
Tuesday, May 04, 2004
Wayne Coyne walked over me in a giant plastic bubble Saturday evening...
More on this story soon.
Welcome back!
More on this story soon.
Welcome back!
