I have no idea what I should name this post, so Princess Cakes (what Marge just told the bullies that Bart can't get enough of) seemed as apropos as anything. Today on the way home from work I was listening to the Almanac segment on the radio station I frequent. This is a half-interesting, half-off-the-wall segment including different birthdays, deaths and other events that happened on this day in history.
One of the events today was the anniversary of the death of the horse that played Mr. Ed. Wikipedia didn't confirm the date of Mr. Ed's passing for me, but if you want to learn more about how Mr. Ed was apparently like Elvis, feel free to take a look at the death section the Mister Ed Wikipedia entry. Mister Ed's death didn't really do much for me, but then I started thinking about the implications of there ever actually BEING a Mr. Ed, a talking horse whose death we would recognize more than 40 years later.
Mr. Ed was introduced to the American public way back in 1961. It was a simpler time - and as my wife points out - they were only just beginning to realize what they had with the television. Kennedy's inauguration would be the first live televised inauguration the same year. Talking people were just starting to get overdone - but the industry was revolutionized with a talking horse. What else was happening in 1961 that might give us a glimpse in to why people would be entertained by a TV show whose lead character was a talking horse?
For those of you who have spent a lot of time around me lately, you are probably getting tired of my updates on the Steve Jobs biography. You could care less that he didn't shower often because he thought his diet of apples and carrots would keep malodor at bay. The fact that he walked around the office barefoot a good deal of the time simply grosses you out. And his relationship with Bill Gates and Microsoft is really none of your concern. From what I've told you, you probably think the guy is an asshole, and quite frankly, he was. So why do people like him so much? What has made me continue turning the pages - probably as quickly as any book I've read since the Hunger Games? It's a perfectly valid question - and one that, as I pass the halfway point, I'm still trying to answer.
Last night, we attended Green Day's American Idiot at the Oriental Theater in Chicago. Before I get in to my deep thoughts about Billy Joe's foray in to musical theater or my opinions about how this musical/rock opera/whatever you want to call it stacks up with some of the other musicals I have seen, I need to share a few pre-show observations.
What crowd do you expect with a cast like this?
A musical based on a Green Day album draws the strangest collection of people I think I've ever seen. There were grown up punks who you could tell have moved on from their hard-living, but their faces and tight jeans tell where they've been. There were the stodgy old theater goers that probably have "season tickets" and likely wanted to throw up 15 minutes in. There was the middle-aged gay couple with the leather pants - not tight leather, loose "Van Halen-leather" in Natalie's words. There was a group of teenage girls whose parents must have dropped them off, screaming intellectual things like "You're hot!" at the lead (when we saw them before the show Natalie asked if they got lost on their way to The Vow). There was fat Harry Potter wearing shorts and a tshirt on a 30 degree night in Chicago, fashion-challenged Dorothy who needed to click the heels of her ruby slippers and return home to find some clothes that matched, and my personal favorite - the girl with the Green Day t-shirt.
I'm sure we've all heard the unwritten rule regarding wearing a Green Day shirt to a Green Day concert (or Counting Crows to Counting Crows, or whatever band to their own show) - but this girl must have needed an update to the rules for this situation. My personal opinion is - not only is the tshirt a little too dressed down for the theater, but you can't wear the band t-shirt to the rock opera based on their album. Though the next time I seen Mamma Mia, I might have to find an Abba shirt at Goodwill and blow some people's minds.
If you've gotten this far, I give you a choice - there will probably be spoilers in the coming paragraphs, so if you plan to see American Idiot at some point and want to be surprised, stop reading.
I haven't posted anything sappy since MLK Day, and with Valentine's Day upon us I figured, why not keep up the holiday tradition here at VLV? Many of you have probably seen the headlines (you can enjoy the whole moment here) about Matt Grevers, the Olympic swimmer who proposed to his girlfriend over the weekend on top of the medal stand. As a former high school swimmer, its nice to see swimming in the headlines at a time other than the Olympics. For the record, if I had tried something like that, I would have suffered an unceremonious 3 foot drop because my wife would have pushed me - not in a surprised/shocked Elaine Benes way, but in a "I don't have a weapon, so knocking him on his head on a hard floor is my best defense" kind of way.
I'll grant him that it was a unique way to pop the question, and it appears that this particular proposal had a happy ending. Unfortunately, every once in a while this happens making the whole sport of public proposals a terrible lottery that ends with lots of winners and one loser that will never rebound from that kind of public humiliation. Or you just end up like Michael Scott.
In addition to all this thought I'd given to proposals over the last couple days, I got a call from a good friend last night who, after several years of my wife badgering him, finally popped the question to his long-time girlfriend. So I guess with all this love in the air, I thought I'd share my own story of one of the most terrifying nights of my life.
Back in 2005, I had just graduated, spent a month in Greece, three months continuing my career as a pool boy, and a month looking for a job. I had no money, my wife was in grad school, we were both living with our respective parents and I thought - what a perfect time to propose!
As anticipated, the wildly popular "Chicken Sh!t" guest blog by DLee yesterday broke the floodgates of guest blog content and now everyone is clamoring for a spot on VLV. Okay, by everyone I mean one more person. That person is Toddy Todd himself and he's come out of the gates with a vengeance. I'm feeling slightly guilty for taking all of this content from Anub, but I'm not sure this post "puts random to shame" like Anub is clamoring for. Here is Todd - analyzing the difference between an author and "a whore". Sorry James Patterson, you're first on the list.
Last night
as I was getting ready for bed I noticed on my night stand was a paperback copy
of the novel “Private” by James Patterson, a recent birthday gift from my
mother. This is the first in a new book series by Patterson. He’s mostly known
as the bestselling author of the Alex Cross series, the Women’s Murder Club
series, the Michael Bennett series, the Maximum Ride series, the Daniel X
series, the Witch and Wizard series, the Middle School series, and the Holy
Shit When Does This Guy Not Write series.
OK, I made
up the last one, but really is there anyone out there willing to admit they’ve
read all of this crap? Of course there is and that’s why he keeps pushing this
stuff out. I first read “Kiss the Girls” in 1995. It was the second book in the
wildly popular Alex Cross series which then turned into an unusually
forgettable Morgan Freeman movie and we all know there aren’t too many of them.
Anyway, I actually enjoyed the book immensely. It was my kind of book. It had
short chapters so my wildly short attention span wouldn’t drift away and the
end of each chapter had that hook, big or small, which made me want to read on
to the next chapter and so on and so on until I had finished the book. Shortly
after that I went back and read “Along Came the Spider” which is the first book
in the series. I enjoyed that as well. Over the following three years I read
each of the books that were published in the Cross series.
Where is Morgan Freeman?
It was
shortly after that when a friend’s wife introduced me to the Women’s Murder
Club series. I got through about the first ten chapters of “First To Die”, when
I realized something. The bad guy in this story was no different than the bad
guys in the Alex Cross books I had read. The only thing that’s different was
the locale (San Francisco vs. Washington DC) and the hero became a heroine(s).
I never finished the book and I started to become wary of the author as the
endings of the Cross novels were becoming more and more ridiculous. I then
started noticing that whenever I walked into a book store there was a new
Patterson book being displayed or if I looked at the NY Times Best Seller list,
there was that same Patterson book. The guy had become a friggin whore. I was
done. Hell, in the last 4 years the gigolo has authored or co-authored 37
novels. That’s right 37! He’s crapping these things out at the pace of
practically a book a month. What does that translate into for pages per day? Come
on!!! That’s more crap than Anub used to produce each day at 1:15pm after lunch
at Ole’. Hey, I’m willing to give Patterson credit for the dedication he has to
his craft, and I certainly appreciate the thought my mother put into the gift
(she was the one who bought “Kiss The Girls” for me in ’95) but take a vacation
already James. You’re making the rest of us feel worse than we already do.
When are
Trey Parker and Matt Stone going to dedicate a South Park episode to this guy
and turn him into some Transformer/Swamp Thing/Teenage Mutant Ninja turtle
mutation? It reminds me of this:
In closing I
went to Google Images and put in the term “James Patterson Crapping Out Books”.
The first 8 images were either of Patterson or one of his book covers. Somehow
this was the next image that came up. It may not mean anything, but it’s funny
all the same.
I'd like to thank my first ever guest blogger, Mr. WWPVWD himself, DLee for this Gem (no, not the delicious fried chicken treat). Needless to say, lunch today was interesting. And for the record, none of those of us involved in the conversation intend to stop eating our share of the 24 chickens the average American eats each year, but it really makes you stop and think - where do they all come from?? Without further adieu:
So,
I’m eating my very pretentious Chicken Cobb Salad from Panera (sound the
beacon!) at lunch today, and I start to wonder, how many people are consuming
that very same salad today, and how many chickens were needed to fulfill those
orders. Now, take it one step further, how many chickens are consumed by
Americans in general on a daily basis. Screw that, how many chickens are
consumed yearly???? It was an answer I needed, pondered (more than Christian)
and required. So I asked.
Interestingly
enough, my co-workers had never wondered what the answer to this mind-blowing
question would be. In fact, one could ask why the hell I care. Was it because
“I was loaded!!! Ok?!?” No, it was because the chicken on some very
subconscious level must fascinate me. Well, I needed answers… even though I
probably, in my best Jack Nicholson impression “can’t handle the truth!!!” So,
we went on a hunt for the answer and here’s what we found…
The
average 8 fingered, 2 thumbed American (sorry Anub!) consumes 24 chickens each
year. There are 307,000,000 U.S residents (and who knows how many illegal
immigrants hiding under Kurt’s desk). That equates to 7.4 billion chickens
consumed by Americans each year alone. 7.4 BILLION!!!!! Manage that!!!!!
What
kind of land space must that occupy? If you lined up 7.4 billion chickens,
could you get to the moon (please don’t drop your pants, I’m not talking about
that moon). You bet your sweet ass you could. In fact, if you lined up all the
eggs, from those very same chickens that are consumed by Americans, you could
get to the moon and back 5 times! On a side note, don’t try that at home. I
guarantee you won’t be “struttin’ that ass” if you try.
Anyway,
I digress. Where is the anger from the chicken-loving community? Who will rise
up to defend these birds from insane amounts of procreation, egg-laying,
slaughtering, and ultimately roasting on a rotisserie? They need a voice (god I
love the beefier Christina Aguilera on that show)! They need to be heard (if
someone can get KReba to shut-up for 5 minutes)! They need a coalition (Max can
you develop a logo?)! They need…
Ahh,
screw it. It’s Thursday. It’s time for Crown Brewing, It’s time for a Special
Forces IPA. And, I heard they have 50 cent wings. J
Peace
out until my next guest appearance.
DLee
Again, a big thank you to DLee. The gauntlet has been thrown down. Who's next? And for all of you Arrested Development fans out there - enjoy some chicken dancing.
...People are morons. So goes the saying in Groundhog Day (aside: I swear I like more TV shows and movies than just Seinfeld, Airplane and Groundhog Day - they just have so many quotable moments and for some reason I've been stuck on them lately, I'll evolve). I typically don't like to cannibalize the attention on my own blog posts by posting twice in the same day, let alone 2 hours, but seeing as how I don't have a lot of readers to piss off, now is probably the time to make mistakes.
I couldn't help but notice when I went to Yahoo's home page (I know, I know, it's my own fault, and I need to break the habit of visiting Yahoo) that their top news, yet again, is that another moron has fallen victim to his own stupidity. AKA - he racked up an $11,000 cell phone bill. I didn't bother to read the rest of the article, because it doesn't deserve more attention than the time it took to read the headline and look at the picture, which really say it all (I'll refrain from including the fact that he's Canadian, since this has happened to many Americans).
You need only Google "really expensive cell phone bill" to come up with hundreds of similar stories. Now, I don't have kids, so I only have my own cell phone usage to police, but it seems pretty common sense - if I am roaming, I probably should not start streaming videos or making ridiculously long phone calls or sending 5000 text messages a minute.
Typically I don't defend big businesses like the phone company and they should probably give these idiots a break, but just as with blood sausage, the problem will exist until the idiots are eliminated (read: never). What bothers me even more about this is that there are probably even more people out there that have received cell phone bills like this one and don't report it because of the sheer embarassment. What do you think - regulate the phone company or regulate the public?
