03.24.11 – a thursday

word

unctuous [uhngk-choo-uhs] adj. 1. characterized by excessive piousness or moral fervor, especially in an affected manner; excessively smooth, suave or smug 2. of the nature of or characteristic of an unguent or ointment; oily; greasy 3. having an oily or soapy feel, as certain minerals

birthday

Harry Houdini (1874), Joseph Barbera (1911), Gorgeous George (1915), Lawrence Ferlinghetti (1919), Norman Fell (1924), Steve McQueen (1930), Nick Lowe (1949), Tommy Hilfiger (1951), Louie Anderson (1953), Robert Carradine (1954), Kelly LeBrock (1960), Star Jones (1962), Lara Flynn Boyle (1970), Megyn Price (1971), Alyson Hannigan (1974)

standpoint

Today, I’m continuing what I like to call My Favorite Music Of All-Time. That’s right. Even if it doesn’t particularly apply for this post, I have a feeling you’ll look past it and appreciate what’s going on here.

Yesterday, I touched on the fact that I have two iPods. The first one is a gigantic clunky thing, it’s screen illegible since the night the Philadelphia Phillies won the World Series a few years back. See, I was in the parking lot of the ballpark the night history was being made.  Philadelphia erupted as Harry Kalas called Brad Lidge’s final stike and mayhem ensued. And, Buckley, my little orange tabby cat was not going to sit still while millions celebrated.

Cats are smarter than most dogs. Also, cats are smarter than most humans. Buckley is the exception. You could teach a kangaroo to do algebra before you could teach Buckley not to not put his nose in the flame from a candle. But one thing the dimwit has is heart, and lots of it. There isn’t a soul alive who, within five minutes of exposure to Buckley, doesn’t want to kidnap the little bastard and take him home.

And I tell you that to explain the following. The Phillies had won it all. Philadelphia was teeming at the edges. It was electric. And Buckley was not immune to the pulse of the celebration. I have no other way to explain why in the world the track shelving in my room would suddenly appear new to him, or why he would jump to the fourth tier of that shelving to attack a plate with a burnt-out candle on it, a plate that he would cause to careen off that fourth shelf and land squarely on my iPod, charging in its dock, resting with a false sense of security, unaware of the bullshit Buckley was up to.

That night, I got home earlier than most in the city, I suppose. I was high-fived out and, despite my many shortcomings, tipping over cars and burglarizing electronic stores just ain’t my thing. So I walked through the front door, trudged up the stairs and stumbled into my bedroom with a smile on my face.

The smile lasted roughly three seconds. There was a broken plate on the ground. Next to it, was an iPod dock in two pieces. And, inches away, almost at the foot of the bed was my iPod, holder of close t0 8,000 songs, face down, silver side up.

Out loud I said, “What the fuck is this?” And then I saw Buckley sitting on the bed. Even though he wasn’t capable of understanding much, the look in his eyes, the tightness in his back, the little fucker knew he did something wrong.

I picked up the iPod. The screen was (and still is) fractured in nine different places. I said a bunch of words I would never say in front of my Mom-Mom. I was furious. My hands were literally shaking. And I turned to Buckley and, even though I never had nor would I ever cause him physical harm, he braced himself for what was coming. The only thing I could think to do was to put him in the closet. So that’s where he went. And before you condemn me for whatever reason, Buckley’s bed was in the closet as were his toys and most of Kate’s makeup brushes. For the next fifteen minutes, I looked at my iPod, pushed all of the buttons and slowly realized it was beyond repair.

But it wasn’t. I hooked it up to the speakers and kept pushing the up button. Music came out. I connected it to my laptop and, lo and behold, there was my entire music library. The damn thing still worked.

I reached into the closet and scooped up Buckley. I held him in front of my face and apologized. He’d all ready moved on.

To this day, I can’t see what’s playing on my iPod and the battery lasts about nine whole minutes but if it’s plugged in it still plays all of those almost 8.000 songs. And yesterday, in keeping with the whole music theme of this week’s posts, I decided to try to listen to as many of them as possible with the intention of finding Six Good Songs In A Row.

Here is how it all shook out.

First

“Birdhouse In Your Soul” – They Might Be Giants

Second

“Sweet Pain” – Blues Traveler

Third

“Everywhere” – Billy Bragg

Fourth

“Nobody Weird Like Me” – Red Hot Chili Peppers

Fifth

“That Says It All” – Duncan Sheik

Sixth

“Turn On Me” – The Shins

quotation

The next person to honk at me THE SECOND the fucking light turns green, is going to win a very special prize. Good luck, everyone! FYI, I was NOT driving while tweeting. I don’t do that. If I did, I wouldn’t be able to hold my crack pipe and fifth of jack. ↔ Kerri Kenney

tune

This was the seventh song. “Satisfied” by Squeeze. Call me all the names you want. I definitely like this song. Sorry.

gallimaufry

No gallimaufry today. Don’t pry. Just accept it.

Advertisements

02.19.10 – A Friday

word

alacrity [uhlak-ri-tee] n. 1. cheerful readiness, promptness, or willingness: We accepted the invitation with alacrity 2. liveliness; briskness

birthday

Nicolaus Copernicus (1473), Lee Marvin (1924), Smokey Robinson (1940), Big John Studd (1948), Jeff Daniels (1955), Dave Wakeling (1956), Falco (1957), Seal (1963), Leroy (1965), Jon Fishman (1965), Justine Bateman (1966), Benicio del Toro (1967)

standpoint

Philadelphia is stoked. Really stoked. Yesterday, was the (un)official beginning of the Philadelphia Phillies 2010 season as pitchers and catchers reported to Clearwater FL for the start of training camp.

And so it begins.

Since winning the World Series two years ago and coming so very close last year, the Phillies have assumed the mantle of bringing the city another world championship, a job they inherited from the Philadelphia Eagles. Most likely, the guys on the team relish their roles as saviors of the city. Why wouldn’t they? They’re professional athletes and that’s what every professional athlete wants, right? At least they should.

After losing to the New York Yankees in the World Series last November, team management didn’t just sit around and wait for next season. In what some are calling one of the biggest baseball trades ever, essentially the Phillies got Roy Halladay and sent Cliff Lee to the Seattle Mariners. Then they went out and signed some free agents, the biggest one being Placido Polanco, who played for the team from 2002-2005, to a 3-year $16M deal. Shane Victorino, Joe Blanton, Chad Durbin and Carlos Ruiz were all re-signed. Gone are Brett Myers, Pedro Feliz, Pedro Martinez and Chan Ho Park. Brad Lidge and Cole Hamels appear ready to rebound from their respective disastrous seasons.

So presumably the team is looking pretty good. CBS Sportsline has the Phillies 5th in its preseason power rankings. Most every other baseball authority has them among MLB’s top teams.

But, as they say, there’s a reason they play the games. You never know, the Phillies could let the city down this year. Then again, they could recapture the championship and give Philadelphia the parade its almost unhealthily fixated upon.

Only time will tell. I, for one, hope the players can handle the weight of an entire city’s hopes and dreams riding on their backs. And I, for one, think they will.

quotation

Life isn’t divided into genres. It’s a horrifying, romantic, tragic, comical, science-fiction cowboy detective novel. You know, with a bit of pornography if you’re lucky.Alan Moore

tune

The Samples was one of the best bands around back in the 90s. Seemed like a pretty cool bunch of guys, as well. They’d let anyone tape their shows right from the soundboard. One of their best live songs was “Feel Us Shaking.”

gallimaufry

I understand that paintball can be fun and cathartic and I’m not knocking the activity at all. Really. I’m not. But is there any reason for a paintball turret gun that shoots 34 rounds per second?

→ Are you a criminal who likes to break into houses but you hate doing all that pesky legwork? Are they home? Are they not home? Well, now there’s a website that’s going to make your job just a little easier. Check out PleaseRobMe.com. You won’t be sorry. Good luck in your future endeavors.

→ How in the world did Lower Merion Township think they could get away with spying on high school kids through the cameras in the laptops they distributed to them? Better yet, it doesn’t even appear they thought there was any transgression in the first place. Holy shit the world is messed up.

04.14.09 – Tuesday

[Note: Today’s post is a little longer than usual due to the passing of Philadelphia’s legendary broadcaster, Harry Kalas – a man who will forever be remembered as “The Voice of the Philadelphia Phillies.”]

Word: sycophant [sikuh-fuhnt, – fant, sahy-kuh-] n. a self-seeking, servile flatterer; fawning parasite

Birthday: Shorty Rogers (1924), Rod Steiger (1925), Loretta Lynn (1935), Pete Rose (1941), Richard Jeni (1957), Brad Garrett (1960), Robert Carlyle (1961), Anthony Michael Hall (1968), Adrien Brody (1973), Sarah Michelle Gellar (1977), Win Butler (1980)

Occurence: 1865Abraham Lincoln is shot from behind by in Ford’s Theatre by John Wilkes Booth.

Standpoint: I remember one afternoon in college. My buddy Joe Taylor and I were watching NFL Films. I mentioned that the narrator’s voice sounded kind of familiar. Joe sat up from the couch. “You don’t know who that is?” I told my friend I didn’t. “It’s Harry Kalas! The guy who calls Phillies games with Richie Ashburn!  Are you shitting me?”I wasn’t “shitting” him. I just wasn’t an avid Phillies fan. At that point, I saw no reason to stir Joe up any further by explaining to him I didn’t know who Richie Ashburn was.

Harry Kalas died yesterday at the age of 73 while preparing to call a Phillies-Nationals game in Washington D.C. Before that afternoon with Joe, I did know who he was. It didn’t matter that I wasn’t a baseball fan. Growing up in Philadelphia, it was nearly impossible to not know the man who could’ve patented the phrase, “It’s outta here!”  After college, I eventually did get into baseball and came to share the common reverence held for “The Voice of the Philadelphia Phillies.” He was one of those rare announcers whose love for the game and his team oozed out into the living rooms of all watching. His soothing voice could go from completely relaxed to incredibly excited with the swing of a bat.

The game of baseball lost a true living legend yesterday. The one silver lining being repeated everywhere was that at least Kalas lived long enough to see one more Phillies World Championship last October. I was actually outside Citizens Bank Park when it happened and heard Kalas call it live when Brad Lidge got that third out. Simultaneously, I heard the roar from the crowd in the stadium. My friends out in the parking lot, looked toward the ballpark and lamented the fact that we weren’t inside to experience the ensuing euphoria. I thought to myself that I wouldn’t have changed a thing. I got to hear the best broadcaster in baseball history call the final out of the World Series. It was the people inside who missed out.

Further Reading.

Quotation: Duct tape is like the force. It has a light side, a dark side and it holds the universe together. Carl Zwanzig

Tune: I first heard this song back on MTV’s 120 Minutes. (Remember when MTV played good songs?) “Mr E.’s Beautiful Blues” immediately made me buy everything I could by Eels.

Gallimaufry: Amazon.com is under fire for their new “adult” policy. The online bookstore has being accused of removing only “adult” literature dealing with homosexuality. (Amazon is claiming a glitch on the site.) Click here to learn more and sign the petition. (Thanks to Beth Treisner)…I suspect that “Facebook Users Get Worse Grades in College” is the first of many articles I’ll read in the next year about the negative effects of the popular social networking site…Al Franken is still not a United States Senator but it appears to be a matter of time until he is. Hey, Minnesota, let the guy in already. Jesse “The Body” Ventura used to be your governor. I mean, seriously.

Incoming: Tomorrow – What’s StumbleUpon?  Thursday – More of your Annoying Sayings/Misused Words (This is now going to be a permanent Thursday thing.) Friday3 Things To Do In Philly When You’re Dead and 5 People I Wish Would Move to Another Planet.