05.03.11 – a tuesday

word

dandle [dan-dl] v. 1. to move (a baby, child, etc.) lightly up and down, as on one’s knee or in one’s arms 2. to pet; pamper

birthday

Bing Crosby (1903), Pete Seeger (1919), James Brown (1933), Frankie Valli (1934), Greg Gumbel (1946), Christopher Cross (1951)

standpoint

I mourn the loss of thousands of precious lives, I can feel relief, but I will not rejoice in the death of one, not even an enemy. ‘Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.’

That was last night’s Facebook status du jour in response to killing of Osama bin Laden. People were crediting Martin Luther King, Jr. with the quote but I couldn’t find any evidence to back that up.

In any case, someone came up with it and, while it’s poetic and well-intentioned, it’s a bunch of bullshit. (Although I do really like the “a night already devoid of stars” line. Very dramatic.)

Sorry, but sometimes an act of hate needs to feel the force of an equally hateful act. If someone out there has an idea how a response involving “love” was the right way to handle one of the most evil men that ever existed, then I’m all ears. What were we going to do? Stage an intervention? Put him in therapy? Tell his mother what he’s been up to and just let her deal with it?

No. Sorry. Usually I’m the guy who hates killing. I abhor violence as an end result to almost anything. Except this. For me, it wasn’t an eye-for-an-eye scenario. It wasn’t about revenge. It was about making things right. It was about correcting an error. Osama bin Laden had done enough. He needed to go away.

And, yes, I know, I know. You detractors out there will say we’re really going to need to watch out because his followers will be pissed and looking to take action. But, guess what? They’ve been pissed and have been scheming for years. Only now they’ll have to do it without the asshole who was pulling the strings. And if that saves the life of even one innocent person, then I’m unquestionably on board. And if you’re not in agreement then you should be asking yourself why not. I’d love to hear your reasoning.

quotation

Stay busy, get plenty of exercise and don’t drink too much. Then again, don’t drink too little. ↔ Herman “Jackrabbit” Smith-Johannsen

tune

Some people don’t really dig on They Might Be Giants. Those people are complete morons. Here’s “Hey, Mr. DJ, I Thought You Said We Had a Deal.” Whether you think so or not, it’s good stuff.

gallimaufry

I can only imagine that when it opens up in June, I’ll have no choice but to like Grantland.com. Bill Simmons? Chuck Klosterman? Dave Eggers? Malcolm Gladwell? How could that website suck?

→ Christ, could Michael Moore be more irrelevant?

→ I’m not going to list all of the acts appearing at the 20th anniversary of Lollapalooza in Chicago this August but you should definitely click here to take a look. We should plan a trip and check this out. Who’s driving?

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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.

03.09.09 – Monday

Whereabouts: Philadelphia, PA

Word: gallimaufry [gal-uhmaw-free]n. 1. a hodgepodge; jumble; confused medley  2. a ragout or hash

Birthday: Amerigo Vespucci (1454), Samuel Barber (1910), Ornette Coleman (1930), Raúl Juliá (1940), John Cale  (1942), Bobby Fischer (1943), Charles Gibson (1943), Jeffrey Osborne (1948), Linda Fiorentino (1958), Juliette Binoche (1964), Emmanuel Lewis (1971)

Occurrence: 1959 – The first Barbie doll is unveiled at the American International Toy Fair in New York City. I thought Barbie had been around longer than 50 years but I’m not an aficionado of dolls, so I’m not too disappointed in myself.

Irksome: Nadya Suleman’s second publicist quit over the weekend. In what might be the understatement of the week, Victor Munoz said, “This woman is nuts.” For real? I wonder if Mr. Munoz started the job either (a) not already knowing she was nuts, or (b) not actually caring she was nuts. Had he not read a newspaper or turned on the television in the months leading up to taking the post? Because, although I’ve never met the woman, from my observational vantage point I decided she was unbalanced about two seconds after hearing her story. Who in their right mind would think she’s sane in any way? What she did is nonsensical. And why all the concern? She and her children will be taken care of her for the rest of their lives. I’m sure they could survive for a long time on what she’s earning with her spots on Dr. Phil. (Five appearances in two weeks.) She’s apparently shopping the video of the octuplets’ birth for SEVEN-FIGURES. Not sure why anyone would want to watch that but it’s just a matter of time until someone ponies up. She has even received an offer to star in a porn movie. My main problem with the “Octomom” saga is this: Why do we care? Baffling. The woman is not a victim. She CHOSE this. Nadya Suleman will clutch onto the limelight as long as possible and milk it for every penny its worth.

Quotation: Religions die when they are proved to be true. Science is the record of dead religionsOscar Wilde

Soupçon: According to this article from the L.A. Times, human beings, on average, err by about 15%-25% when guessing the time of day.

Song: They Might Be Giants is one of the greatest unsung bands of all-time. “Purple Toupee” might be its best song, but even as I type this, I can think of at least 10 more that are just as enjoyable.

Link: Hulu – Not as much selection as YouTube obviously, but higher resolution. If you haven’t seen the Hulu’s Super Bowl ad featuring Alec Baldwin, click HERE now.

Gallimaufry: Dave Frees is not only a friend of mine, but has many great ideas on how you can improve your business and your life. Click HERE to check out his blog. Also, the man runs one mean live auction…Had a busy weekend, so I didn’t get a chance to go see Watchmen. Gonna try to catch it this week. Anyone out there seen it yet?…It’s official – Philly Beer Week 2009 is upon us, boasting over 693 events this year. For all of you who live in or near The City of Brotherly Love, get out of the house and go drink lots and lots of beer…Click HERE to read all about Jonathon Krohn, the country’s youngest political pundit.