WOTE Covers Doobie!

Walk off the Earth has easily become one of my favorite YouTube finds. Love their videos. Their covers and their original stuff as well. But they just covered my favorite Doobie Brothers songs. Love. it. Find it on Youtube. Here are some of my other favorites.

Royals. 

Somebody that I used to know

Original Red Hands

Even Material Girl

Such fun. Hope I can see them live one day.

Politics are a joke. But at times they work.

So everyone has heard of the government shutdown that just ended. It was a red herring, the people hurt were mostly simply inconvenienced and the government workers will receive all the pay they lost. It's a drama without real drama. Much like high school. The legislative branch has kicked the financial can down the road and all is well.

In doing so, a member of congress actually managed to use his position for it's intended purposed - to help his district, state, constituents. It's such a rare idea that the media is freaking out about it. Trying to paint his actions as corrupt or backhanded. However, his constituents, his state has repeatedly elected him in hopes that he can achieve a role of power to help his state. He now has. He actually follows through on being an agent of the people and rewarding them for years of re-elections, by getting more funding for a public works project in the state. And he's viewed as a crook.

McConnell-Reid Deal Includes $2 Billion Earmark for Kentucky Project

It's been called a kickback. No. It's doing his job. If he got $2 billion in his pocket it's a kickback. If he helps his state, his constituents, its part of the job. They elected him. They gave him seniority. They allowed him to achieve the power to help his state. In the modern era, actually doing your job is seen as criminal. We're so far off the rails, we can't even see the tracks.  

Silence is.....

I've never been good with silence. When I perform menial tasks around the house, at work, I always have the radio or television on. Often I will have Netflix or Hulu playing in one window while I play a game or work in another window. Silence for me is something to be filled.

As a kid, I remember sitting in the car on the way back from a birthday party. A party I had only wanted to be invited too because the birthday boy had the GI Joe aircraft carrier and I had to see it. Had to play with it. Needed to know that it was real. I didn't really like the birthday boy and wasn't that close to him but the birthday was fun. Pizza. Presents. Aircraft carrier. All good stuff. Really enjoyed myself more than I thought I would. We watched ET. It was good.

But on the car ride home, in a car with a parent I barely knew and this kid I only kind of did, there was silence. So I filled it. I told them my life story, from birth in Seward to my move to Minnesota. I told the story of how my parents met, I gave specific directions in a calm and confident tone to my home included when would be the best times to merge and the significant cultural landmarks on the way (We got our couch over there, that billboard never changes, the exit tells you that we are 135 miles from the Iowa border) I couldn't let there be silence. It freaked me out.

In radio, dead air is the ultimate sin. Anything over two seconds starts to feel like an eternity. If the listener hears nothing, they will change the channel - virtual death for a radio station. So again, I learned to fill the space. Always be ready with something, don't let the energy drop, if you're the color guy at a basketball game and the play by play guy is looking for something in his notes - you damn well better be ready with some observation, analysis or anything - just not dead air. I learned to fear dead air, the idea that if it happened the loudest sound would be the audience changing the station.

I don't meditate. I don't spend much time in prayer. I don't work on centering myself and my chi. However, I have recently begun to try and respect the silence. Not exactly enjoy it. But respect it. I fill my head with so much. I like to be over stimulated. Computer on, phone in hand, books set to the side, three different browsers open with tabs on each plus conquering the known world in Civilization. Sometimes I'll put on a VHS or radio and let it fill the back ground. Lots of input to sort through. Keeps my constantly misfiring brain working. It works for me.

Lately however, I have tried to build silence into my day. Each day from 1 to 2 in the store, I try and turn off the radio. Part of it is that after four hours of radio information, I have heard just about all that will be said for the day. But part of it is to stop all the white noise and just let my mind work. It's amazing how that hour often goes extremely fast when I can find positive or interesting things to think about. Conversely, time stands still when melancoly or negative thoughts invade my thinking. Went I get trapped in a negative place, time doesn't even exist.

When I am honest with myself, and I very rarely am, I know that my fear of time stopping is often what drives me to fill up my life with white noise. I am so afraid of those mental quicksand moments that I would rather deal with so much over stimulation than face them. It's why I hate to sleep. In the day, I can guide my psyche, my mind. I can distract it. I can overload it. I can keep it from wandering into the forests that I would rather take the long road around. When I sleep, the mind is free. The subconscious frolics in the places I don't want to go. The fears. The dreads. The losses. The loneliness. I am at my mind's whim when I sleep. I hate it that loss of control.

I tell myself that trying to incorporate silence into my daily routine will help me when I have to face the silence of sleep and the ghosts, shadows, memories, hopes and dreams it brings. It seems a bit pathetic to try and train myself to face it during the day so I can endure it during the night. But sometimes I have those good hours. Those hours that time flies by. The hours when letting my mind loose is positive. The good hours of silence.

The more good hours I find in the day - I hope the more good hours I'll find at night.

The best radio story I never told.

I love radio. Have since the 30-45 minute morning and afternoon commutes as a kid in Minnesota. I was lucky. I caught the tail end of the golden age of Twin Cities radio. In the morning it was Boone and Erickson on WCCO. News, traffic, weather on the 8s. Keeping us updated and ready for the day. In the afternoon it was Steve Cannon and the theater of the mind. It took me years to realize that it was one man doing voices, creating a full room of people. It was amazing. I had no idea until I was in college.

My work life has had many twists, turns and down right potholes. One happy circumstance brought me to radio, which led me to Boston, which I then rediscovered in Kentucky and still am a tiny part of to this day. People always ask about my crazy radio stories. Probably because they think of Howard Stern or WKRP (ironically, one of my former owners claimed to be the inspiration for the show with one of the producers). I have crazy fun stories. This is something different.

When I was in Kentucky, I was on a morning show and we would do these live remotes. It was a smaller metro area so there wasn't really a huge audience for our live remotes. That summer I noticed that we had this one kid who kept showing up at every remote. All around town. Miles apart and he always rode his bike. It looked like he had all his belongings on the bike.

We got to talking and he told me he was a season worker who's work ended and he decided to stay in town. He was living with some homeless guys under a bridge down by the river and he had a wind up radio that he would listen to our show with. He loved it. I also noticed that he would never take the free pizza or sandwiches/pop etc that we provided as promotional stuff at the live events. He didn't want to seem like he was just taking advantage of the freebies.

After the third time he showed up, at an lab that was 15 miles from the river area that he lived in. I offered him and his bike a ride back after we were done. His name was Derek. He was 19. From Louisiana. Scared to go back home. But he didn't have anywhere to go. He knew that he'd have to do something soon because the police had started to bug the camp he and the others had set up.

I forced him to take the left over pizza from the live broadcast and a case of soda as well. We sat by the river and talked about family for almost an hour. It was a rough time in my life. I had issues with my family. With my parents. With my estranged wife. With my role as a father. Talking with Derek helped. We helped each other. I told him fears and things I hadn't told anyone else. He told me his. It was something. Maybe not friendship. But it was honest.

For the next six weeks he biked to every live broadcast. Once the owner of the jewelry store demanded he leave because he didn't look like the type of clientele for a jewelry store. He really didn't want the charity.When he would let me, I'd give him any left overs we had - food, soda etc. A couple of times he completely refused.  I offered him money for a bus ticket home but he wouldn't take it. I thought I might have offended him because I didn't see him for a while.

In late august at the last big event of the summer, where we were giving away a truck, he stopped by. To apologize. He'd sold his bike and wind up radio to some other guys and had saved enough money from odd jobs that he had his bus ticket and going home. He felt bad that he hadn't been listening anymore. He was a great kid. I gave him my # but I never heard from him. I hope he made it home.

Not the normal DJ story I suppose. I have those. Crazy college kids. Kangaroos. Radio station rivalry bar fights. But my best one is Derek. 

Fall Television Premieres, Squirrels, and Whatnot

I decided tonight that I would write a blog about the new fall television season, specifically the new shows I am not watching via Hulu. Like all good plans and blogs. It started as one thing and became something entirely different.

I love the fall. I love the chill in the air. I love the possibility of new things. Spring is the supposed to be the season of birth, of creation. But to me, as a child of educators, as a live long student, as a media addict. Nothing can beat the fall.

New drama. New comedy. New characters. New worlds to explore. This is what fall means to me. Spring is the season of finales, endings, cancellations, graduations and moving on. Plus some nature stuff happens as well.

This fall, I have been excited to see new shows. Familiar faces in new places like James Spader on Blacklist, Maggie Lawson graduating from cable to network, Ichabod Crane as a super spy and yes, more Marvel's Agents of Shield.

I have watched the pilots of several series and my plan was to review them all here for you, but one took over my thinking and will hopefully get it's own post. Long. Ridiculous post. So yes. Here is a fall TV premiere review without any of Fury's chosen few. From a nerd. 

I added squirrels instead.

Oh. Ahem. SPOILER ALERT!!!!

Sleepy Hollow

Yes. I know. It' doesn't fit with the book. It has Dan Brown level of exposition and random happy coincidences. But you know what. I don't care.

The headless horseman is Death. Yeah, that Death. Not the cute Neil Gaiman version, the book of Revelation version. He is a bad dude. In the first episode he clearly adapts to modern weaponry. Ok. It's over the top. It's ridiculous. Ichabod isn't a bookish nerd, he's former British special ops who falls in love with a witch and is best buds with George Washington. His death and rebirth is tied to the Horseman's and he teams with a talented sheriff with a scary moment in the past. The two of them may be the only thing standing in the way of Armageddon. And not the animal cracker sex move kin of Armageddon. It shouldn't work. It's not at all believable.

I don't care. It's fun. It's camp. Of course there is a series of interconnecting tunnels under Sleepy Hollow built by George Washington. (Clearly the Vietcon were big Washington tactical fans) Of course the Kurgen from Highlander is the friendly, father like sheriff who gets his head chopped off. And who else but Harold from Harold and Kumar could help bring about the apocalypse?

It's strange. But the show knows it and doesn't care. It goes big. It embraces it. It works.

Watch Sleepy Hollow if you need an escape and park your suspension of disbelief at that door.

The Blacklist 

James Spader was going to be an admiral. He had the world on a string. Then he quit. He became a super spy who everyone hated. Top 10 most wanted for years. Then he turns himself in and wants to make a dead. He's got a list. A brand new female profiler as his side kick and he's going to break all the rules for some mysterious purpose. Help the government catch the bad guys it doesn't even know exist.

It's a bit Silence of the Lambs, it's a bit Count of Monte Cristo and it's all not supposed to work. Spader is having so much fun chewing up scenery that it doesn't matter. The minor characters, including his new profiler side kick are simply there to set up his moves. The scripts are weak. The mysteries will be too sledgehammer. (Kidnapping an admirals daughter to blow up a zoo? The Penguins of Madagascar had more evolved plans.) But again. It's fun. Spader owns the show. He's loving every minute of it. He's playing a caricature and he knows it. The show will fail when he becomes bored. Until then, I'll watch every minute of it.

Dads

I love sitcoms. I personally believe that I kept Platypus Man and Pig Sty on the air by myself for several weeks out of sure unadulterated love. I wish I was Seth Green. Casting him as the idea man for a video game company whose partner is also dealing with a live in father who is a pain in the ass. Sure. That works.

It's formulaic and the jokes aren't breaking new ground - they just had an episode about pot brownies for the love of mike. Each episode is full of more smile and smirk jokes than belly laugh ones. Yet, I watch. Maybe because I have parents. Maybe because I've hosted a party my father showed up too and became the life of. Maybe because I don't know if Brenda Song is playing an Asian stereotype or against type or just happy to have a job that isn't Disney. Nonetheless, the only way this show would have me more interested is if William Shatner or my own father were playing one of the titular roles.

Back in the Game

I love Maggie Lawson. I love Juliet from Psych. I love that as one show is winding down for her another might just be lifting off. (Much like I expect more Agent Hill on Agents of Shield after HIMYM concludes). James Caan is mostly mailing it in. And the concept makes me wonder if there is a story beyond one season. But I'm happy to have Maggie on my screens as much as possible.

Yeah it's a bad omen that there was a movie of the same name with Amy Adams and Clint Eastwood that was about baseball and bombed this summer. I fear it doesn't have much of a chance. But I'll right letters, tweets or throw a baseball at someone's head to keep Maggie around.

Marvel's Agents of Sheild

It gets its own post. I'll explain. No wait. There is too much. Instead.

Squirrels.

Mother @#$@#% squirrels.

I'm at war. My yard is a safe place for animals. I have deer walk through. I have a local owl. I have named at least 3 rabbits, all Bob or Bobette, that have residence in my yard. The squirrels and I have had a easy truce for almost two years. But then one went and got himself squished by my garage door. Honestly how does that happen? It's like Michael Palin running over Kevin Kline in A Fish Called Wanda, except without the feet stuck in concrete. How dumb do you have to bed to die via slowly moving garage door?

Then another croaks in the front yard. Seriously? What the hell nature? I've got two young kids who don't need to see the miracle of decomposition up close. Die somewhere else.

If it was just the dying, I could let it go. I mean, really it's not completely the squirrel's fault. Except for the garage door....seriously. WTF.

It's the nuts. The damned black walnuts that fall from a tree in my yard. They eat them. They peal them. They leave walnut casing all over my yard. And on my porch. They crawl along the side of my stucco'd house like Spiderman. They roll the walnuts off of my roof in such a way to make me feel like Hudson in Aliens (there in the walls man!!! The @^$#^$ walls!!!!).

Tonight I walked to my porch. Scattered the walnut casings and made a pronouncement. Least the squirrels should claim they were not warned....

"Dearest Squirrels. I love your scampering ways. Your childlike enthusiasm. Your dexterity of at least 8 die. But if you don't stop leaving your walnut peelings on my porch, I will be forced to purchase both a yippy dog and a pellet gun to hunt you down. You may gather your nuts for winter. But if I see another pile of walnut reside on my porch. Your nuts are mine!"

I swear I heard one of those @#$@# things laugh....

Maybe I should get another garage door. 

Links, Allegations and Little Left Unsaid.

I spend an abnormal about of time browsing the internet each night. I might have insomnia. I might hate the dreams my subconscious sends my way. I might simple need a more comfortable pillow. Nonetheless, here are some fun things I've recently found.

A red Star Trek uniform as a cycling jersey. That's just tempting fate. And traffic.

I really enjoy The Silent Comedy musically. It's cool that they are partnering to raise money though unique merchandise as well.

Yes. Everyone has heard Ylvis "What does the Fox say?" by now but as the Lonely Island/Weird Al of Scandinavia they have some great other videos as well.

And Stonehenge really hits home. Why did they build it?

What does the Fox say made them huge. I hope it leads people to discover the rest of their work.

Speaking of performance art. Dreds and Breado may be but an internet memory but for two days, they were a thing .

It doesn't rate up there with what Pizza the Hutt did to himself but this onside kick by UL-Lafayette's kicker is pretty impressive.

My son has been asking for super hero pjs and the selection at the local big box stores is always rather mundane. So I found this site and his pjs are in the proverbial mail.

If you haven't yet checked out Walk off the Earth I recommend starting with their cover of Lordes Royals. You'll get caught up in the fun, silliness and songs you didn't realize you knew there after.

 There is a decent chance if I found a lost dog. This would happen.

 If I remember correctly this happened to Joey on Friends way back when. Bad luck. Not the ad you want to be associated with. And she didn't even get paid...

Grantland has some really good stuff. Some about sports, like this piece on the Cleveland Browns draft process. And some about pop culture, like this one about the new fall broadcast shows. Already into the surreal almost silliness of Sleepy Hollow. Reminds me of Grimm.

And finally, while silly this article detailing just how far Rocky must have run in the training montage from Rocky II is both brilliant and pointless. Love it.

Rocky was an ultra-marathoner. But those kids are even more unexplainable. Ah movies.

Origin Story - Kid #2

Today my son is 7. Seven. Such an eventful entry into the world. Premature. Tiny. I've never been so scared in all my life as I drove those miles to Louisville, chasing an ambulance. Scared I'd lose so much. Scared I wouldn't make it in time. Scared I didn't even know what hospital I was going to. He arrived and was so perfect yet so incredibly small. So strong. Once again they asked for a name. Two kids, two times I picked the first name from our list that came to mind. Then worried if I spelled it right. 

After he and mom were safe and resting. I was so wired. I hadn't eaten all day. I left the hospital to find something to eat and try and breathe. Across the street there was of all things, a Hooters. So there I was, eating wings, crying tears of joy/exhaustion/relief and showing Hooters waitresses and other patrons pictures of my newborn son. 

It was surreal. All of it was. But it was good. And so is he. My son.