Stuck Inside of Brooklyn, With the Berkeley Blues Again (part 2)

On the West Coast, people exercise at lunch or after work, because they know that running or lifting weights is about more than just being physically fit; it's as much an emotional outlet for pent-up stress from a challenging day at work. Decompression. Balance.

On the East Coast, people exercise before work, because who the fuck cares about a balanced life? It's all about looking good at the beach.

Stuck Inside of Brooklyn, With the Berkeley Blues Again (part 1)

Differences between beaches on the West Coast and beaches on the East Coast:

West Coast beaches are backed up by beautiful mountains. East Coast beaches are backed up by dingy, Roosevelt-era apartment complexes that look like federal prisons.

West Coast beaches have nothing but ocean and seagulls in front of them. East Coast beaches are buzzed every five minutes by an airplane carrying a Gaico or Mountain Dew advertisement banner.

West Coast beaches are populated with quiet, unassuming people who keep to themselves. East Coast beaches are packed to the gills with fat familes lugging their entire living room along, including the stereo.

To get to most West Coast beaches, you hike, bike, or drive through breathtaking scenery -- tall trees, waves of wild grass, sheer rock faces. To get to East Coast beaches, you take the Van Wyck parkway (along with the 1.5 million other people) to JFK airport, hang a right, pass legions of used car dealerships and dilapidated department stores, pay a bored bridge keeper a buck fifty, and spend thirty minutes in search of parking.

The best way to sum up my afternoon is to look at what I listened to:

Pissed Off on a Friday:
1. Institutionalized - Suicidal Tendencies
2. California Uber Alles - The Dead Kennedys
3. Warsaw - Joy Division
4. Raw Power - Iggy & The Stooges
5. Smash It Up (Part II) - The Damned
6. Town Called Malice - The Jam
7. Damaged Goods - Gang Of Four
8. Ether - Gang Of Four
9. Natural's Not in It - Gang Of Four
10. Not Great Men - Gang Of Four
11. Damaged Goods - Gang Of Four
12. Return the Gift - Gang Of Four
13. Guns Before Butter - Gang Of Four
14. I Found That Essence Rare - Gang Of Four
15. Glass - Gang Of Four
16. Contract - Gang Of Four
17. At Home He's a Tourist - Gang Of Four
18. 5.45 - Gang Of Four
19. Anthrax - Gang Of Four
20. Outside the Trains Don't Run on Time - Gang Of Four
21. He'd Send in the Army - Gang Of Four
22. It's Her Factory - Gang Of Four

Lately, work has been all-consuming. And it wouldn't behoove me to post about that in a public forum. Blogs are funny that way. Your candor is limited by your potential readership.

I have, however, had time for laughs at some of the more recent political goings-on. My favorites include:

Last week, ABC News ran a piece that interviewed soldiers in Iraq who were pissed off at our government about various things. The White House response? Unnamed White House officials leaked that Jeffrey Koffman, the reporter on the piece, was both gay AND Canadian.

Our favorite Senator from PA, Rick Santorum, says that the Catholic clergy molestation scandal was the fault of the liberals.

The Energy Bill is going to pass... after all mention of renewable fuels and mandatory increases in automobile fuel efficiency have been stripped out.


Supreme Court nominee John Roberts has repeatedly said he does not recall if he was or was not ever a member of the ultra-conservative Federalist Society. Turns out, he was on the steering committee in 1997-98.

GOP response to Rove's troubles: Presumably under orders from the White House, Senator Roberts, chair of the Senate Intelligence committee, has announced that he is opening investigations against both the CIA's classification of "under cover" and the special prosecuter Pat Fitzgerald himself who was appointed to investigate the leaking of Valerie Plame as an under cover CIA agent. Well... that's one way to get Karl Rove out of hot water. This is from the guy who said there was "no time" to investigate the torture scandal or the lack of weapons of mass destruction.

Meanwhile, Halliburton secures another multi-billion dollar no-bid contract from the Administration.

Dirty feet on da bumblebee

I was recently reminded of a lyric that I misheard as a kid.

When Bon Scott muttered "dirty deeds and dey're done dirt cheap" on the song "Dirty Deeds, Done Dirt Cheap," I thought he was saying "Dirty feet on da bumblebee."

I remember going around summer camp that year singing my version of the song over and over.

Dirty feet and bumblebees. It made a lot more sense to a ten-year-old than something about sex acts performed at rock bottom prices.

Oh, Shit....

How do you maintain a straight face while talking with someone who does consumer research on laxatives for a living?

Who is Canada's worst musical export?

I was listening to a classic rock station this morning. When Triumph came on, I offhandedly referred to them as Canada's worst musical export.

Gabe immediately responded with, "What about Loverboy?" I thought about it, and also came up with Glass Tiger. These two definitely trump Triumph for the "Canada's worst musical export" award, and I'm sure we're missing many others.

Who do you think should hold the title?

Sometimes, you don't want to know

I just googled a woman that one of my co-workers hired while I was on vacation, and it turns out she's an active member of the GOPUSA website community. GOPUSA is, among other things, the owner of the right wing "news service" that employed that fabulous "reporter" named "Jeff Gannon" who spent two years as a Republican plant in the White House press room before he was unmasked. GOPUSA caters to the Ann Coulter/Michael Savage crowd. Really, really scary stuff.

I'm back!

First, the obligatory Asher shot, taken at my parents' house in Springfield, IL:



Here's a quick rundown of my incredibly tame (because, what can you do with a 5-month-old?) trip:


Springfield
Four gripping days in the town that raised me

Best music experience: Hurdling down Veteran's Parkway in a rented Chevy Impala (Florida plates to make me feel that much more geriatric), listening to the local classic rock station tick off the greats, one after another - Steve Miller, Journey, Bad Company, Rush (Steve Miller, Journey, Bad Company, Rush, ad nauseum)

Best signage: "Our ice cream is finger-Lincoln good!"

Best additions to the area: Friar Tuck's liquor store, with selection worthy of a big city; Cafe Brio, a Mexican/Carribean restaurant with the best Ahi I've had since leaving the West Coast two years ago. Starkey and Micah, take note. Everyone else, I know you don't give a shit.

New Lincoln Museum - Disney dreck or compelling exhibit: Leaning toward compelling exhibit, but not immune to the arguments against lowest-common-demoninator history lessons.

Chicago
A quick stop-over

New Experience: I actually paid for parking in a downtown garage.

New Perspective: At the Art Institute, Sarah got me to see Monet's haystacks from a new - and much more interesting - perspective.

New Epiphany: Louis XIV looks like the dude from REO Speedwagon.

New Baby: Saul Bazer, son of college friends Mark and Gina. I forgot that all newborns look like those Somalian refugees you see on television who can be fed for a month for the price of a cup of coffee.

Milwaukee
Jason and Tamara's wedding

Biggest Surprise: The architecture of the art museum is really friggin' cool.

Number of times people mentioned having babies in the wedding speeches: 11

Number of times Tamara's father used the word interregnum in the course of his MC duties: 2

Number of consecutive nightime hours that Asher was sleeping by the end of the trip: 3 (down from his normal 12)

I'm off to the midwest for eight days tomorrow morning - Springfield to visit my parents, then Chicago to see Mark and Gina's new baby (and Mark & Gina), then Milwaukee for Jason and Tamara's wedding. Sarah's never been to Milwaukee. I think she really thinks that Mr. C., Big Al and Laverne and Shirley live there.

It used to be, a week's vacation for Sarah and me meant two suitcases and a carry-on. Now that Asher's joined us, we have three suitcases, three carry-ons, a stroller, a car seat, a pack-n-play (portable crib), an overstuffed diaper bag and a bunch of little plastic sandwich bags filled with dried baby oatmeal that looks like cocaine. TSA, come and get me.

The Best of 2005 - Chapter Two (Second Quarter): Wherein Starbucks prefers blowjobs to anal sex





The Good:
Mountain Goats - Sunset Tree: Amazingly-written record about childhood tribulations with girls, alcohol and general teenage angst, set against a backdrop of life with an abusive, alcoholic stepfather. Lesser songwriters would dwell on the dispairing nature of this lyrical fodder. But far from wallowing in self pity, songwriter John Darnielle's character takes on an almost defiant tone, trying to wring everything he can out of life - because of rather than in spite of - what lies waiting for him when he returns home. All of this is cocooned inside an earnest, acoustic chamber pop with simple guitar/piano interplay and flat percussion. It's catchy, it's smart, and it's dripping with pathos.

White Stripes - Get Behind Me Satan: I resisted all the way through their last record, but on this one, Jack White has hooked me big time. His yelping is a bit more under control - though not too much. His songs are slightly more structured - though they still feel like they're dominated by the id, a great tactic successfully exploited by Frank Black in his weirder moments with the Pixies. And the piano's a nice touch. Not a bad song on this one.

Shelby Lynne - Suit Yourself: As I said in an earlier post, move over Lucinda Williams. There's a new sheriff in town.


The Bad:
Springsteen. As in, "The Boss is a Bad Muthafucka on Devils and Dust" - partially for his passable imitation of Steve Earle this time around, but mostly for penning a line about ass-fucking that got the record barred from Starbucks. Someone should point out to those crazy coffee makers that the definition of sodomy is anything other than vaginal penetration -- including "going down on [someone] in a theatre" - one of the many salacious little tidbits on Alanis Morissette's Jagged Little Pill - Acoustic, which Starbucks DID opt to hock at the registers. Isn't it ironic?

Seriously, though, this is one heavy album, with rich characters, incisive narratives and a beautiful, dusty aesthetic more akin to classic Americana than I think we've ever seen from the man.


The Ugly:
Spinto Band - Nice and Nicely Done: Everyone sings songs about the pangs of love, but the excitable, overly fey vocals chased around by an inane two-note mandolin line on "Oh Mandy" makes Spinto sound like a collection of hyperventilating, adolescent sex offenders while they're doing it.

Ryan Adams - Cold Roses: I can't stay away from this guy. He's sooo bad! Don't judge this book by his cover, folks. Ryan Adams is a sheep in wolf's clothing. He used to be a sensitive alt-country crooner a la the more mellow points of Uncle Tupelo's Anodyne. Then, he became a rocker with a heart - cast in the mold of Bruce Springsteen. Now, he's a lite-rock hero, casting around for a role in a re-formed Air Supply. All the while, he perpetuates this brash image of the devil-may-care genius. Drop the indie haircut, Ryan, and get the perm you so deserve.

Matisyahu - Live at Stubbs: I don't get it. Why is this guy cool for anyone other than the yeshiva refugees that line my in-laws' seder table?


Honorable Mentions
Gorillaz - Demon Days: Pretty cool, but I can't do much with it. The good stuff sounds like a fantastic art project, and the bad stuff sounds like cheap dance music.

Meat Beat Manifesto - At the Center: Solid downtempo. Too bad I don't smoke pot, anymore.

And now, without further delay...


Best of Second Quarter 2005 Rhapsody Playlist:
1. Paper Tigers - Caesars
2. It Happens All The Time - Dressy Bessy
3. This Year - The Mountain Goats
4. All The Way Home - Bruce Springsteen
5. Unsingable Name - Mike Doughty
6. Freeze The Saints - Stephen Malkmus
7. Los Chucos Suaves - Ry Cooder
8. Riot Radio - The Dead 60s
9. My So-Called Celibate Life - Pernice Brothers
10. This - Brian Eno
11. California Blue - The Orange Peels
12. You Don'T Have A Heart - Shelby Lynne
13. Sweet Side - Lucinda Williams
14. Maureen - Fountains Of Wayne
15. Shut Your Eyes - Shout Out Louds
16. Take, Take, Take - The White Stripes
17. Back To Tupelo (Album Version) - Mark Knopfler"

Am I going to be living in Dallas or Houston?!

New York City and developer Bruce Ratner have been angling to build a basketball stadium and housing/office complex roughly a mile from my home in Brooklyn. I'd never thought too much about it, except to be philosophically opposed to it and to once in a while wonder what it would mean for traffic in the area.

Then, I read a New York Times article that described the plan in detail. Choice quote:

With 17 buildings, many of them soaring roughly 40 to 50 stories, the project would forever transform Brooklyn and its often-intimate landscape, creating a dense urban skyline reminiscent of Houston or Dallas.

Here's an artist's rendering of the complex:



Holy cow! This is terrible! I need to figure out what I can do about this.

Isaac: Do you even know who George Foreman is?
Sarah: Yeah, he's the guy who invented that grill.

Weekend in the 'burbs
Sarah's old friend, her husband and their little boy recently moved from Manhattan to a nice house in the suburbs, across the street from a soccer field and down the block from the Metro North station. We went up there on Sunday, sat in the lawn, watched the kids roll around, ate juicy meat from their new, industrial-sized grill, and listened to old U2 albums. It was pleasant, and it was tranquil, and it depressed the shit out of me. Why?

These people are an hour commute from the City. Their house is five minutes from a great bike path that ultimately leads all the way up to Albany. The schools are among the best in the country. There's a Trader Joe's five minutes away if you're into cheap, good produce (which I am), and word has it that this suburb is a fairly liberal community. (As long as you can afford those $800k+ homes, they don't care what your race, religion or sexual preference is.).

When Sarah and I were talking about it that night, we both said we didn't want to grow old in a suburb. Then, we discussed other options - mid-sized cities and smaller towns that dot the East Coast. They all sounded compelling, but when you come right down to it, as Sarah eventually pointed out, it's growing old period that freaks me out. Where it happens is almost... almost immaterial.

Monday with Asher
Sarah worked yesterday, and I got to spend a rare, entire day with Asher. It was, in a word, wonderful. We laughed, and we played with toys together. When I put on the Beatles and sang, he cooed along with me, grinning and staring at me wide-eyed. When he was tired, he rubbed his eyes, and went down for naps without complaint. He gobbled up his rice cereal, and took great delight in smearing it all over his face and hair. When he was upset, I always knew exactly what to do. And when he was happy, it was because I made him that way. I felt like a Dad. A good one.