My rambling Muse story

When I'm driving my car, I usually listen to my iPod or books on CD. I do, however, occasionally listen to the radio. This usually happens because the book on CD du jour ends, and I'm so close to my destination that I just leave the radio on until I get there. This was the case a couple of months ago, when I left work and headed to Wal-Mart to buy some odds and ends. My radio was tuned to the hard rock station, where some nondescript Nickelback knock-off was whining about something. That song ended right as I was pulling into Wal-Hell, and without any sort of preamble or DJ set-up, the next song came up. I don't know exactly at what point I started paying close attention to and enjoying the music, but I think it was when I heard a clapping accompaniment to the song's rhythm. Whatever the case, I sat in the car and listened to the entire song, growing to really, really like it. Of course, the next song, another Nickelback-inspired piece of musical garbage, came up without any sort of announcement regarding song titles, so I was left wondering what the song I had enjoyed so much was, let alone who sang it.

As I walked from my car to Wal-Hell, I tried to mentally list the song's salient points so I could look it up when I got home. A catchy beat, the aforementioned clapping, a brooding, keyboard-driven minor-key progression, nifty instrumentation, and a soaring vocal line. The song was a wonderful blend of hard rock and new wave pop, kind of reminiscent of Marilyn Manson but devoid of Manson's needy "Hey! Look at me! I'm weird! I'm different! LOOK AT ME!" rhetoric. I also committed to memory a couple of refrains, no small feat for me, since I couldn't care one whit about lyrics. Alas, by the time I got home, I could only remember the following: I had really liked a song, it reminded me of but was somehow better than Marilyn Manson, featured keyboards and clapping, and... that's about it. I tried the radio station's website to see whether there was a track list available, and since there wasn't, wrote them an admittedly incoherent e-mail inquiring about the song. No luck.

Given my obsessive-compulsive nature, there's no way in Hades that I was going to let this go. The next day, I asked all of my classes about the song. None of my students had any idea what I was talking about, although a few politely expressed reservations about my mental health. I made it a point to listen to the radio in the hopes of hearing the mystery song again, but had to give that up -- there's only so much Nickelback and Red Hot Chili Peppers garbage a man can put up with. I grudgingly resigned myself to the fact that by failing to quickly write down the snippet of lyrics I'd picked up from the song, I had missed any realistic hopes of figuring out what the song was.

And then, a few weeks ago, serendipity struck. I had recently joined a gym, and was in the locker room changing into my ratty work-out clothes when, lo and behold, The Song started playing in the gym's background music radio thingamajiggy. I finished changing quickly, and went looking for either someone who could tell me what the song was, or for something to write with. As luck would have it, I noticed that one of the ubiquitous TV sets in the cardio area was playing a music video that matched the audio. I parked myself in front of the TV, ignoring the weird stares from the gym's other patrons, and watched, in the hopes that the artist and song would be credited at the end of the video -- I do much better at remembering stuff when I see it written out. Huzzah! The much sought-after info scrolled through as the song finished up. Almost three months after first hearing and, not to put too fine a point on it, obsessing over The Song, I finally knew what the hell it was.

This story seems pointless now that I run into The Song constantly, since it's featured in commercials for some idiotic Tom Cruise / Cameron Diaz movie, but whatever. Without further ado, here's "Uprising," by Muse:

An old fave comes to Florida

Yet another roundabout tale that, I promise, has a point.

Component #1: My nephew Patrick is a car mechanic, and he recently started working at the service department of the new Chevrolet dealership in Estero. As luck would have it, since Saturn went out of business, this Chevy dealership in Estero is now the closest place where I can have my car serviced under the warranty. (I'll rant about the demise of the last American-made cars that were actually made in America at another time, I guess.)

Component #2: My niece's boyfriend Rick works for some pizza joint, and because he has aspirations of some day running a pizza place of his own, actually has an interest in his job and so keeps up on "pizza news."

A few weeks ago, during one of our family gatherings, Patrick mentioned that some pizza delivery car had come in for service, and that he didn't get a very good look at it because he was busy, but thought it said "Geppetto's." Patrick has heard me rave about Geppetto's pizza and barbecue ribs / chicken / whatev enough times, so that car caught his eye, if you will. Rick immediately mentioned that he had also heard of a "new" pizza place named Geppetto's that had opened in two SW Florida locations, and that his understanding was that it was a small chain that was established in Ohio. I thought this sounded way too good to be true, but decided to check it out. A google search confirmed the awesome news: Geppetto's, the award-winning and super-awesome pizza & rib joint from Cleveland, is venturing into geezer-land.

Yesterday, I took my car into the dealership to have some pesky power steering issue repaired. On my way back, I finally had a chance to stop by the still-too-good-to-be-true SW Florida Geppetto's. Large pizza, pepperoni and green peppers. A jar of barbecue sauce. Unbelievably delicious, as always.

Now, all I need for true bliss is:

• for Antonio's to open a restaurant here so I can snag their incredible salad dressing -- yes, it's THAT good
• for the Cavs to fire Mike Brown and hire a REAL coach, one who won't pander to and kiss LeBron's ass but who will, instead, light a fire under LeBron's underachieving ass
• for the Browns to show a little patience for a change and try to make steady year-to-year progress, culminating in a perennial playoff contender
• for the Tribe to get out of cheapskate Dolan's stranglehold and stop fielding a quadruple-A team

Let's make it happen, God. Please!

I still haven't seen a live boxing card

It's not for lack of opportunity. I'm some 75-150 minutes away from several locations that regularly offer boxing cards. Last night, for example, there was an affordable boxing card 90 minutes away from where I live, headlined by two World Championship bouts: Celestino Caballero vs. Daoud Yordan, and Andre Berto vs. Carlos Quintana. As if that weren't enough incentive, part of the take from the gate was tabbed to benefit the victims of the Haiti earthquake. Be that as it may, I'm so miserable with allergies and so unbearably overwhelmed with work that I pussed out and stayed home. I had some regrets about not going, but I was consoled by the fact that I was able to watch the fights on HBO. If the two televised headliners are any indication, I should be glad I didn't make the trip. A one-sided beatdown? Impressive, but boring. An awkward, whiney, foul-filled fight? Yikes.

Caballero looked entirely too relaxed in his fight, but why shouldn't he? Game effort by Yordan notwithstanding, the fight was nothing more than a sparring session. It was extremely one-sided, but not the viciously brutal beating that HBO's announcers would have had you believe. Robinson vs. LaMotta was brutal. Mancini vs. Kim was brutal. This fight? One-sided, but not brutal. When Lampley brought up the Leavander Johnson fight, I almost threw up. Lampley makes me sick. He's like a woman on the rag. Everything is intensified exponentially, and always in favour of the house fighter / favourite. "HOW MUCH MORE OF THIS CAN YORDAN TAKE?" Relax, Lamps. Yordan took punishment, but he was never so much as stunned. People criticize Gus Johnson for his histrionics, but I think Lampley is just as douchey. Or maybe I'm just getting old. Whatever.

As for Berto, he needs to stop his whining. The first-round KD was legitimate. If fighters don't like getting hit in weird places, they should avoid positions in which the only places they can get hit are weirdies. Don't like getting hit in the back of the head? Stop bending over so far and/or stop turning away so far that the back of your head is the only available target. Another thing I dislike about Berto is the way he smothers his own punches by getting too close for adequate punching range. If a half-decent trainer gets a hold of him, the first thing he'd do is grab a meter stick and explain some fundamentals of proper punching distance. Be that as it may, this was an important win over a tough, cagey vet. Berto's handspeed is very impressive, and his character is top-notch. But the division's elite would tear him to pieces, quite easily. I hate to be a repetitive old fogey, but he needs way better handling before he starts so much as thinking about big-time fights.

Regardless, I'm sorry to report I'm still a live boxing virgin. But like any self-respecting virgin, I'll continue to wait for a worthy dance partner. Glad I didn't give up my cherry for last night's snoozefest.

Spring is here

And with it come a new and an old ritual. The newbie: a much-needed and appreciated week off. I love the new job, and am hoping to get renewed for next year. By all accounts, the first year is the worst owing to an equal mixture of inexperience and overwhelming amounts of preparation work. The latter is particularly true, since I'm teaching three different classes. Be that as it may, I'm happy to finally have a job where I feel like I'm actually doing something meaningful and worthwhile, and where (knock on wood) it doesn't appear I'm going to get royally fucked over.

The old ritual, however, is the subject at hand: spring training! Where hope springs eternal, even for the worst teams. Where a 97-loss debacle of a season is quickly cast aside if the young'uns show signs of progress. Where seasons lost to injuries and the tyranny of subservience to the big-market teams who can afford to rip the talent out of your ball club are, for the moment, forgotten. Thanks to the MLB Network and one of the greatest inventions of my lifetime, the DVR, I've been able to watch a few spring training games, and while I'm nowhere near anointing this year's ball-club as a post-season threat, there are quite a few good signs that the team won't be as atrocious as last year's edition.

Jake Westbrook finally appears to be fully recovered from Tommy John surgery. His sinker has been heavy and quite effective, and his fastball still gets up there with enough speed to keep hitters honest. He looks ready to continue the success that was derailed by injuries. Is he a legit #1 starter? Probably not, but he's tough and gritty, and if his body cooperates, he'll keep the Tribe in games. Fausto Carmona has been absolutely lights out thus far. His stuff is downright electric, and when he locates his pitches, he's practically unhittable. That wasn't the case the last couple of years, but a couple of minor adjustments to his mechanics appear to have set him right again. His last two starts, he went six and seven innings, giving up no runs, walking only two, and getting roughly 75% of his outs on weak grounders. I still remember, quite fondly, how he burst onto the scene in 2007. I don't want to jinx things, but he appears to have regained that form. The rest of the pitching staff is iffy. Lots of young arms with outstanding stuff, lots of inexperience harnessing that stuff on a consistent basis. Masterson and Carrasco, in particular, have awesome velocity, but need to locate their off-speed pitches more consistently. Huff and Talbot have potential. It's hard to believe this, but Huff actually led the staff in wins last year, even though his ERA was an absurd 5.9 something. Let's just move on before I start crying.

The bullpen can't possibly be any worse than last year's craptacular edition. Laffey's been bumped out of the rotation to start the season. It stinks for him, but he's actually better suited for this duty. I really think he'll be the Paul Assenmacher type we've been looking for since, well, my old buddy Paul Assenmacher. Raffy Perez and his wicked slider appear to be back on track now that Raffy's delivery is consistent again. I don't quite know what to make of Smith, Sipp, and Lewis, so keep'em crossed whenever they come on. The Korean reliever (Ching Chang Chung? Bink Bank Benk?) has a very live arm, so I hope he makes the roster. Chris Perez steps into the closer role now that Wood is on DL for the umpteenth time. This could work out for the best. He was brought in as the closer of the future, so why not throw him into that role? He's got the right demeanor and arsenal of pitches, so as long as he doesn't go all Wild Thing on us. Not to be a cynic, but he can't possibly be worse than Wood or Blow-worski. The only problem is that he HAS gone all Wild Thing on us before. I remember a game last year where he walked four guys in a row before Wedgie finally decided to pull him. Let's hope Acta handles him, and the rest of the staff, better.

The everyday line-up looks outstanding, especially now that some of the dead weight has been removed. Signing Branyan is crazy, but his pathetic, underachieving ass is on the DL, so he won't be leaving a small village on base while he strikes out trying to pull outside pitches anytime soon. We didn't sign any Philadelphia cast-off outfielders this year, so the Michaels / Dellucci poo-poo platter is, thankfully, a thing of the past. What we have instead is an awesome combination of young and just-entering-their-prime bad-asses.

Ass-Drivel Cabrera leads off, at least for now. He's an excellent hitter, gets on base, works the pitcher, and is a crafty baserunner. Sizemore moves down to the second spot in the line-up, at least for now. He's completely healthy, and has hit the shit out of the ball this spring. Pika-Choo hits third, and looks to go into the season even hotter than last year, where he hit .300+ with 20 HRs and 80+ RBIs. Colour me skeptical when it comes to Hafner, but he also looks completely healthy, and has hit pretty well thus far. Peralta... well, he's in shape. I just don't know what to expect from Jhonny, except that he starts the season at third base, which is where he SHOULD have started last year. Hopefully the consistency leads to more consistency at the plate. Jhonny can hit if his head is right. LaPorta gets the nod at first now that Don Quijote Branyan is whiffing away on the DL, and this is a very good thing. Thome II is about as dumb as they come, but he's been crushing everything thus far while showing OK discipline. Marson's kind of being lost in the shuffle amidst all the hoopla for catcher-in-waiting Santana, but this kid has awesome potential. I think he's going to surprise quite a few people. Valbuena showed flashes last year, and he's an outstanding fielder -- he and Cabrera have turned some fantastic DPs this spring. Considering the top half of the rotation induces an enormity of grounders, this is a very good thing. Brantley hits in the ninth spot, at least for now. He's way too good, though. I think Acta has him here so as not to pressure him, but soon enough, he'll be moved up to bat lead-off while the rest of the line-up moves down one spot. This is the line-up I can't wait to see. Brantley is a prototypical lead-off guy: average, discipline, and speed. Cabrera is a prototypical second spot guy: average, contact, fantastic bat control. Sizemore is a prototypical third spot guy: average, speed, and huge power. Pika-Choo needs to hit in the clean-up spot, where he'll be enormously productive now that a supposedly healthy Pronk can protect him. And so on.

I like what I've seen from the Tribe thus far when it comes to base-running and situational hitting. Lots of well-executed hit-and-runs, sacrifices, and steals. They actually pulled two double steals in one game! So far, so good. Acta looks like he knows how to get the most potential out of his youngsters, and appears to have infinitely better people skills than his well-meaning but sour-faced predecessor. The pitching is the weak spot here, but there are tons of live arms in the minors. Carrasco, Hagadone, Gomez, and Rondon are all top-notch prospects. There's no shortage of young talent, either: Santana, Donald, Chisenhall, Mills, Brown... these guys could (SHOULD!) spend some time in the majors this year.

So, lots of youth, lots of potential, lots of question marks... and a little bit of hope, which springs eternal.

Go Tribe!!!

Finally done

And what's best, the losers-that-be actually spelled "conferred" properly this time. I shit you not.

He's a tractor-lovin' gunslinger

Had to watch yet another Favre game in which the announcers made me sick with their ridiculous, over-the-top fawning praise. Make no mistake about it, Favre is good. Considering the guy's my age, and he's still putting together outstanding clutch performances like he did in today's playoff game, I can't really heap my customary dose o'hatred upon his undeserving shoulders. It's just that I'm tired of the "gunslinger" who's "just havin' a ball" hyperbole. We get it. The guy's good. The guy's apparently very likable. He still enjoys playing the game, even at his advanced age. He still has an alarming propensity for zipping the ball into triple coverage, and he still gets a free pass (pun intended) when those ill-advised passes get picked, because when he gets away with his craziness, exciting things happen. Good. Great. Lovely.

But not so good when the lunacy leads to an unsportsmanlike, in-your-face, running up the score late TD toss when the game was 27-3 with a little more than a minute left in the 4th quarter. Scummy? Unnecessary? Childish? Absolutely. But the TV talking heads loved it. If that had been a non-media darling like Matt Schaub or Aaron Rodgers running up the score for the sake of beefing up his statistics, I'm sure there would have been quite a bit of holier-than-thou outrage. Instead, the announcers were practically high-fiving each other over Favre's hayseed, aw-shucks bullshit. So, it's not necessarily Favre I hate (although I do find him annoying), as much as the way the media fellates him. At any given point in a game, you'll hear countless references to gunslingers, ballplayers, good old boys, tractors, rugged manliness, gunslinging, good old-fashioned fun, having a ball out there, gunslinging, playing the game, enthusiasm, craftiness, and gunslinging. Typical TV talking head soundbite after a 7-yard dumpoff to Adrian Peterson resulted in a first-down and an exuberant display of good ole' boyishness from Favre:

Oh, that gunslinger... he's a gunslingin' son of a gunslung gunslingin' gun that slings gunslung gunslingin' gunslingers. In short, he's a gunslingin' slung-gun gunslinger who slings guns like a gungslingin' son of a gunslung gunslingin' gunslinger. Oh, and he's just havin' a ball out there. 'Cause he's a gunslinger. Gun. Sling. Gunslinger.

Give me a break. I hope he gets his hillbilly ass handed to him next week-end. In a tractor. With a gun. And a sling. Gun. Slinger.

Long live the 80's !!!

It's hard to believe that yet another decade has come to its unofficial end (unofficial because technically, the new decade won't begin until 2011 -- mind your math, people!). Hard to believe for me, at least, because I'm still stuck in the 80's, aka The Greatest Decade Ever. What have any of the other decades in my lifetime contributed to popular culture? I was barely alive for the very tail end of the 60's, and they're noted for drugs and disgustingly dirty hippies. Thanks, but no thanks. The 70's are remembered for huge sideburns, Vietnam, and utterly heinous fashion. Thanks, but no thanks. The 90's were ridiculously nondescript -- the dingy grunge scene, and that's about it. Lame. And the 00's have been equally bland, apparently engendering tons of nostalgia for decades past from old fogeys like myself. My fave of those decades? The 80's!!! The new wave scene, those ridiculously goofy yet charming hairstyles, the metal scene, the "horny teenager" movies that have been much-imitated but never-duplicated, the over-the-top action flicks, the arcade scene... If you missed the 80's, you really missed out. So no, I can't quite let go of The Greatest Decade Ever, especially when there are still so many unresolved 80's dilemmas:

Music:
A) Who's Eileen, and why do I have to come on her?
B) Who really wants to hurt Boy George? Not me, although I WOULD appreciate him shutting the fuck up.
C) Just why DID she blind Thomas Dolby with science?

Movies:
There were literally thousands of horrible plot devices in 80's movies... which of my personal top three offenders would rank as the worst one?
A) The little kid saying "It was paint!" and, in one fell swoop, leading Danny Glover to realize that the baddie in "Lethal Weapon" was in the same secret batallion as Mel Gibson.
B) María Conchita Alonso magically producing the microfilm with the unedited footage of Arnie's "Butcher Of Bakersfield" shenanigans on "The Running Man." And while we're on that subject, just where DID María Conchita Alonso hide the microfilm? I'm guessing it was inside her conchita. Man, I kill myself.
C) Daniel LaRusso actually defeating Steve McQueen's incredibly scary son. I can believe a one-legged Daniel-san managing to beat Billy Zabka, since he used The Crane, a move Mr. Miyagi described as "no can defend" -- but there's no way Daniel-san got past Dutch. I refuse to believe it.

Best exposure:
A) Joyce Hyser tearing off her tux and revealing her assets in "Just One of the Guys."
B) Jamie Lee Curtis "inadvertently" showing Dan Aykroyd the goodies in "Trading Places."
C) Phoebe Cates telling Judge Reinhold how cute she thinks he is by unleashing the puppies in "Fast Times at Ridgemont High."
D) Elvira, Mistress of the Dark. No, not really. But don't you wish it was true? I know I do.

Signature game:
A) Rubik's Cube. Obnoxious, but addictive. Bonus question: How in the hell were those people on "That's Incredible" able to solve it in mere seconds? Bonus questions II: Who the hell is Rubik?
B) Pac-Man. Still popular today!
C) Donkey Kong. Nowadays, you probably know it as SuperMario or some such crap. But it'll always be Donkey Kong to me.
D) Space Invaders: as quoted roughly a billion times by my pal Greg, "Space invaders... they invade your space. Get it? [Snickers]"

Sports injustice:
A) The Brownies. Don't get me started. I hate John "Horsefucker" Elway.
B) The Cavs. Michael Jordan's an asswipe. Don't even dream of arguing this. He's a piece of shit.
C) France. A very underrated source of sports heartbreak, because they should have won both the 1982 and 1986 World Cups. The semifinal losses against Germany still make me sad, angry, and nauseous. Bonus gripe: Harald Schumacher is a disgusting Nazi thug, and the fucker belongs in prison. Bonus gripe II: Karl-Heinz Rummenigge may kindly burn in hell.

Signature look:
A) The new-wave hairdo, best exemplified by ridiculously long bangs -- aka, the "Flock of Seagulls" look.
B) The feathered bangs.
C) The metal mullet. Just about every wannabe poser in my high school yearbook looks like this, so this one may be my personal fave.

Ah, so many 80's questions, so little time... Happy New Year / New Decade !!!