Some people get all the breaks

You know who's got it pretty damn good? Innocent bystanders, that's who. Everybody automatically loves the innocent bystander. Every time some shit goes down and people who weren't involved are killed, the saddest head-shaking is reserved for the IBs (innocent bystanders). No matter what. You could be the biggest dirtbag in the world, but you get cut down in a hail of stray gunfire just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time and your status as an IB is cemented forever. Forever! That's all anybody will ever remember about you. Your slate is wiped clean and people you never even met would say your passing was a tragedy. Wouldn't that be sooo nice? You could get killed in a shootout between cops and robbers at a bank you were on your way to rob yourself, except you stopped along the way to return some kiddie porn, pick up an 8 ball of cocaine and run over some kittens and all anybody would say is, "that poor, poor man". Lucky, lucky bastards!
You don't even have to do anything. That's the key component and the most unfair thing I've ever heard of. Eating lunch, picking up milk at a convenience store, generally minding your own business. Whatever. But one shot fired by somebody who is also minding their own business (really, if you think about it, that's what they're doing; nobody invited your dumb ass to participate. You're a bystander. Your job is to stand by) hits you in the temple and just like that, the mayor is offering a moment of silence on your behalf at the next chamber of commerce luncheon.
Man!
What about me? I want some of that sweet action. Do you know how many problems being an IB would solve for me? I can't even list them all but trust me, it's a lot. I think I ever had the opportunity I'd try to help. I can see myself whispering softly to a cracked-out madman waving a gun around wildly, "easy now...breathe...aim and squeeze the trigger, don't pull it...". Because you want him hitting center mass, where your vital organs are. Headshots are tricky and the last thing you want is to be merely wounded and possibly severely disabled. That would suck. That I do NOT want.
Although...they're IBs too, and people love them just as much. Maybe even more. Hell, okay. I'll take wounded. No downside either way. Except the physical pain part. But still. Okay, then. Count me in.

Funny business

Lots of entertainers offer fans the opportunity to sign up to receive emails that provide updates on upcoming shows, merchandise you can buy and just general news.
One of my favorite comedians is Maria Bamford. her most recent email had some info about what she's up to, but had even more about various friends and family members and how they're dealing with the current economy. I found one excerpt, regarding her dad, especially funny and would like to share it here:

"MY DAD EXPERIENCES HOPE DESPITE CYCLE OF CHRONIC UNDEREARNING!
My pop is the proud owner of the website- www.soapalternatives.com. Over a 7 year period, he has received NO ORDERS for his “No Soap” product despite advertising, constant talk of and prayer without ceasing. As a family, instead of feeling sadness, we have experienced only joy and laughter from this project. There is doing in the not doing. Happening in the not happening. Will you be a part of the change? Will you break the cycle? It’s exciting and yet not exciting! Create your own non-business! Participate in nonparticipation."

In the spirit of supporting one of my favorite entertainers, I would invite you to patronize...or not...her father's business. Either way is good.
In the meantime, here's some Maria Bamford material for you...


Also, her new album "Unwanted Thoughts Syndrome", which includes the complete web series of "The Maria Bamford Show", is available all over the place.

A simple plan

If Do-It-Yourself Pest Control is anything other than some guy sitting behind a counter selling rolled up newspapers, that's a company that needs restructuring.

Well, how else would you eat a fruit cup or yogurt parfait, weirdo?

Another gem from Clark's Kitchen

Here's another quick, cheap and easy recipe that you can try for breakfast! "Oh Clark, you're so stupid. It's too late to eat breakfast," you say. And I reply that your statement is only half right; it's never too late to eat breakfast. In fact late night breakfast is one of the most enjoyable experiences you will ever have in your entire life. So shut up.
This is an egg dish, like an omelette only not all uppity, that I like to call...

HUEVOS APARTMENTOS (Apartment eggs)

INGREDIENTS

• Three eggs (chicken, unfertilized)
• One onion (again, I like the Spanish ones)
• Cheese (shredded cheddar is best but you can get by with slices of American)
• Salsa (Newman's Own is awesome but use whatever you like/have)
• One skillet (You fancy folks can use a frying pan if you want, but you should stop taking yourself so seriously and get a good ol' fashioned skillet)

DIRECTIONS

1. Spray your skillet with some cooking spray and pre-heat it on "medium high".
2. Cut up the onion into medium to big pieces while the skillet gets hot. (Man, I do love saying skillet!)
3. Throw the chopped onions into the skillet. (They might try to resist. "No! Please! Don't cook us!", they'll plead. Don't listen to them. If you're like me, the last thing you need right now is a bunch of screaming onions whose only concern is their own self preservation. You just want to eat. So you tell them, "Be Quiet! It's your job. Go do your damn job!" and toss them right in there. Sure, they'll sizzle but don't let that bother you. You're in charge here and you don't take shit from onions.)
4. Cook them for a while until they get soft. (That is NOT what she said)
5. Crack the eggs and dump them right on top of the onions. (Go ahead, this is part of what makes this so easy)
6. Stir it up. (Stir it all up! Stir like the wind. Stir like you've never stirred before. Stir like nobody is watching. Because in all likelihood, nobody is watching.)
7. It looks like a mess, doesn't it? (Keep stirring)
8. It looks like it's not going to cook. (Keep stirring)
9. Ugh. It's all slimey looking. (Keep stirring)
10. What's the deal? (Quiet, keep stirring)
11. This was a bad idea. (Keep stirring)
12. Maybe you missed a step. (Keep stirring)
13. No, no you didn't. (Keep stirring)
14. You did everything perfectly. (Keep stirring)
15. Was I just messing with you? Maybe I was! (Keep stirring)
16. What a jerk! (Keep stirring)
17. Why did you listen to me? (Keep stirring)
18. What were you thinking?!? (Keep stirring)
19. This is all just...oh wait! (Keep stirring)
20. Suddenly it's starting to firm up into scrambled eggs. (Keep stirring)
21. Yeah. You doubted me. That hurts. (Keep stirring)
22. Now that you have your scrambled eggs and onions, stop stirring and add the cheese.
23. Leave it on the heat just long enough for the cheese to start melting. (It will keep melting after you remove it from the heat plus you don't want the eggs on the bottom to burn)
24. Dish it up on to a plate.
25. Remember when you bought salsa because your new "thing" was going to be non-fat tortilla chips & salsa because it's a healthier alternative to other snack foods? What did that last, like a weekend before you were back to dipping pork rinds in Marie's Blue Cheese dressing? Well, now's the time to try to make amends to the salsa. Go ahead and spoon some onto the egg/onion/cheese melange (that's French for "hot mess") you just created.

Enjoy!!

So I caved and watched the Micheal Jackson memorial service

First off, let me establish my credentials, or lack thereof, in regards to how I relate to Micheal Jackson.

• I own a copy of "Off The Wall".
• I was amazed by his performance on the Motown special when the moonwalk was unveiled.
• I never bought "Thriller"; never needed to because everybody else did and I still heard every song over 100 times.
• I saw "Captain EO"
• I thought "Bad" was okay.
• Between the kinda overblown-but-mediocre music and increasingly bizarre behavior, with or without actual convictions, that followed, I kind of tuned out after that and kept up with his exploits almost entirely via jokes.

By 1989 or so, he wasn't someone I could really relate to on any level. I liked him for a long time and then he got too weird for me. I think that lands me real close to smack dab in the middle of average when it comes to opinions on him. So while I wouldn't classify myself as a fan per se, I still recognize that he's my generation's Elvis. There's no debate over who's bigger or better; when it comes to pop cultural impact, it's Elvis, Micheal Jackson, Muhammad Ali and the Beatles (collectively, not as individuals) sitting all alone on the top of the mountain. So I felt like I had to watch.

For the most part, it was very nicely done. Sadly, the aspects that were tacky symbolized showbiz at it's absolute worst. CNN's coverage leading up to the ceremony was clownishly over the top, consisting of pundits topping each other with anecdotes that sounded more Paul Bunyan than Micheal Jackson. Too many people who you just know wouldn't have accepted an invitation to have lunch with Michael Jackson two weeks ago went to great pains to be seen outgrieving each other. And any time Al Sharpton, whose main connection to Micheal Jackson is that "I'll Be There" is the song he sings to himself whenever a media opportunity presents itself, shows up on my television, I feel the need to hose it off with Lysol afterward. But when the whole thing wrapped up with a little girl crying over the loss of her father, surrounded by her aunts and uncles...well, how does someone not relate to that?

I've heard some lame excuses for being late before...

...but how exactly does a chicken club sandwich impede traffic?

Oh.

No thank you

I know this post isn't exactly timely, since the show isn't currently on the air, but recently some friends have been trying to get me to take a sip of the American Idol Kool Aid.
That's not going to happen.
I don't begrudge them for trying to share something they enjoy. But I loathe that show on so many levels that it's just not something I'm ever going to warm up to.
Sorry. I know it's popular and people like what they like for whatever reasons and that's their business. I'm honestly trying to be better about that kind of thing. Live and let live and all that. But their right to like something doesn't cancel out my right to despise it. So I'm just going to air out my thoughts on the whole thing this one time. Then maybe I won't feel the need to make snide comments about it in the future and annoy those...so, so many of those...who are devoted fans :

• I hate that so many people think that being on American Idol is "IT" now. I heard a young girl singing karaoke recently. 16 years old, and obviously gifted. When she got done singing, the sentiment expressed by everyone in attendance was, "she should audition for American Idol!". Nobody said she should front a band or go to Broadway or study at Julliard. It made me sad because I think of music as so much more than a component of a popularity contest/game show. It's like meeting a teenager who's a wiz at calculus and saying "you should audition for Deal Or No Deal!".
• I hate that they only feature very pretty people. Nobody who looks like Mick Jagger, Janis Joplin, Bruce Springsteen, James Brown, Bono or a hundred other legendary artists I could name with no trouble at all would ever get past the first day of tryouts. Sure, it's possible for someone to be attractive and talented but there's never going to be an ugly Idol winner.
• I hate that at a time when artists should be embracing their freedom and control over their careers, there are still talented people (note: I have never said, and never will say that the people on American Idol are not talented) who are willing to dive headfirst into what amounts to artistic slavery. This is an actual excerpt from the standard contract that all American Idol finalists are required to sign: "I hereby grant the Producer the unconditional right throughout the universe in perpetuity to use, simulate, or portray my name, likeness, voice, singing voice, personality, personal identification or personal experiences, my life story, biographical data, incidents, situations, events which heretofore occurred or hereafter occur...". You don't have to be a lawyer to figure out that American Idol literally owns these people. Forever. Here's another beauty: "Other parties...may reveal and/or relate information about me of personal, private, intimate, surprising, defamatory, disparaging, embarrassing or unfavorable nature that may be factual and/or fictional." That means that not only do they own the Idols, they own the right to make up shit about them if it suits their needs. Never touched a drug in your life? Well, if it helps to ring the register, you're now a recovering heroin addict. Or gay. Or not. This contract ensures that American Idol finalists are treated slightly better than racing dogs, but not quite as well as thoroughbred horses.
• I hate that people subject themselves to this for a shot at stardom that has a shelf life of about a year, if they're lucky. Honestly, with a couple of exceptions, what 'stars' have emerged from American Idol? Yes, Kelly Clarkson, Carrie Underwood and a few others have "made it". But for the most part, the contestants are disposable commodities that are famous for exactly the one season they're on the show. After that, POOF, they expire and disappear.
• I hate the music. It's all buffed and polished to a high shine, freeze-dried, high-end karaoke. Not a rough edge to be found anywhere. Very pretty and completely non-toxic, just like the performers. Sorry, but I like the occasional dropped note, a beat missed here or there, a voice cracking in pursuit of a note. Those kinds of flaws and imperfections spell certain doom for an Idol contender. If I want to watch skilled performers competing by executing flawless routines, I'll watch gymnastics. If I want music, give me somebody who stands on stage knowing they won't be sent home in shame if they break a guitar string.
• Lastly, I hate that people don't turn off their televisions and go out once in a while. Right around the corner from where you live, you can go to a place tonight with other human beings and see a talented young performer who probably plays an instrument and (GASP!) writes their own original material. I simply can't understand anybody who truly loves music who wouldn't rather experience that than sit at home and vote for the prettiest puppet.

There, I'm done. And I feel better for it. Thanks.

Happy Independence Day!

I know some of you don't read this blog every day. I get it. It's a hectic world, there's a lot of information to absorb, keeping up with some stupid, purple blog isn't necessarily going to always get the highest priority. Heck, I know that just with all the Micheal Jackson stuff going on, lots of things might be slipping through the cracks. So I understand if you don't happen to read this post before the holiday. My hope is just that by the time you DO read it, whenever that is, that while we will may lose a few fingers, toes, eyeballs and whatnot to unpleasant explosions over the weekend, all 50 of our states are still intact.

Um, hurray?

Say what you will about the economy, the weather, the Iran elections, the war in Iraq, the North Korean situation or the recent spate of celebrity deaths, if you're someone who subscribes to the whole "spare the rod..." philosophy of raising children, this has been a good couple of weeks for you. First, after some years out of the limelight, the legendarily twisted Papa Joe Jackson is back, once again peddling his own home-brewed brand of parental scumbaggery. And just today, former Hillsborough County Commissioner and former professional wrestler (I don't care what you go on to do with your life later, if you have ever been a professional wrestler, you will be identified as such for eternity) Brian Blair had charges of domestic abuse dropped against him.
As you may remember, Blair was arrested after an altercation with his two teenage sons early Father's Day morning. However, today Assistant State Attorney Rita Peters characterized what happened between Blair, 52, and his 17-year-old son, Brett, as "discipline" and dismissed all charges.

Corporal punishment is legal in Florida. In case you're wondering, here's basically how that works:

• You are a supervisor on a job. You reprimand an adult subordinate for being late. He responds angrily, telling you not to disrespect him in front of his co-workers. You punch him in the face. You have committed assault.
• You are the head of a household. You reprimand one of your minor kids for being late. He responds angrily, telling you not to disrespect him in front of his friends. You punch him in the face. You are a mentor (you might want to consider being a Caucasian, just to play it safe).

One of the saddest things about this situation is now that charges have been dropped, people of a certain political orientation will point to it as a victory for the conservative Blair over a biased left-wing media, as though this is some kind of happy ending. Which I guess you can say it is, if you're willing to ignore the fact that this family obviously has some very serious problems. The next time there's a disagreement over curfew times that elevates to a fistfight, are the cops supposed to ignore that call? Considering Blair's fondness for lawsuits, they might. I mean, they haven't been sued for this yet, but it's still early.