Numbers – Thought that this might be a long overdue show about bookies, but I was wrong. Gee, another crime show, except with the added excitement of mathematics. Surely inspiring kids everywhere to do both the even and odd numbered problems in their math books.
Bernie Mac – When this first came out Fox played incessantly looping promos throughout the football season showing Bernie sitting on the crapper and yelling at his kids or something. Who says they don’t make quality shows anymore?
What I Like About You – Great tune, good beat, easy to dance to, but I give the TV show of the same name a zero. I’ve never seen it, but if washed up 90210 stars are turning up there it can’t be good.
Supernanny – If this show is about Mary Poppins in a skinsuit and a cape fighting supervillians and cruising the town in some sort of flamethrowing NannyMobile with a hot little sidekick, then count me in. However, if it’s like that Nanny 911 show, then just drown me in cream gravy.
Malcolm in the Middle – I found Dewey fairly amusing the first couple seasons, but unlike the Simpsons, real life child actors age, not always well, and cast was not nearly as talented enough as the Bradys to pull it off and this show just got creepy really fast.
Hope & Faith – Unless Hope and Faith are the names of exotic dancers, not interested.
Reba – I once dated a girl that did a killer karaoke version of Fancy. That’s a famous Reba song in case you’re as ignorant as I am about country music. It has a positive message that if you happen to be a poor chick without any money, you should blow your life savings on a party dress, get cleaned up and whore yourself out to rich guys so you can get a nice house in the ‘burbs and spend your days buying new shoes at the Galleria and not have to live in a shack like your barefoot momma.
Living With Fran – Never heard of it, but I see that “Fran” is none other than Fran Drescher. Unless she’s a mute superhero nanny like the crime-fighting Mary Poppins I described above and only communicates with a horn like Harpo Marx, I’d rather spend my Friday nights bowling with Geraldo Rivera.
Returning Mid Season:
Less Than Perfect – No kidding. Friday nights are so lame I can’t even muster up the inspiration to properly bust their balls. I guess that means we should all be out at happy hour or ballroom dancing or something. Cheers!
Thursday, September 29, 2005
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
Spend a Day with Moist Rub
I awoke this morning to the sound of my daughter’s foot smacking me in the face. Maybe it wasn’t the sound of it as much as it was the slap I felt. She knows I get scared at night when it rains, so she sacrifices her comfortable solo slumber to sleep in my bed in order to soothe my fears. I believe she uses her body to keep time during the night, as she constantly rotates in bed like the second hand of a clock.
After hygienically preparing myself for a day’s exhibition, I entreated the boy to do the same. If I don’t instruct him to do this, he has no problem oozing his bodily effects on those who share the day with him. Come to think of it, I don’t have a problem doing that, either, if it didn’t make me feel so icky. Yes, I’m man enough to admit to an aversion to ickiness. By this time, the daughter had dressed, having showered the night before, and requested a hearty bowl of Fruit Loops for breakfast. I donned my chef’s hat and went to work in the kitchen, not only preparing breakfast, but three healthy lunches - peanut butter and jelly in a ziplock bag (no bread - I was out), beer nuts and a half eaten an apple split three ways. By the time I fed the dogs, ex-Mrs. Rub had arrived to take the kids to school, and I departed, with a breakfast of a single banana in hand.
Traffic was average as I switched partners on the radio dial dance floor - sports radio, Howard Stern, NPR and any tolerable music I could find. I heard nothing worth remembering. Before I knew it, I was at work; ten minutes late. My boss was happy to see that I was early.
As usual, I docked my laptop, unlocked my desk and braved my phone messages - all personal. That’s a good start. There is nothing worse than having a client or co-worker harassing you from the voice mail grave before you even have a chance to check your personal email or your fantasy football message boards, which I proceeded to do after I logged into the network . Some people are so inconsiderate. Normally, I like to spend about an hour and a half getting my personal chores out of the way before I delve into work, but today I had to conduct a training session at nine am regarding some new system magic we’re moving in at month end. My company has streamlined itself out of a training staff. Luckily, they chose me to fill the void.
I’m not much of a trainer. It’s not that I don’t have patience for ignorant people, I just don’t have patience for ignorant people. The only reason they are ignorant is because I hadn’t yet told them what not to be ignorant about. And, the only way I can unignorantate them is by putting up with their ignorance until I can train them, and I don’t have the patience for that. I don’t mind, for the most part, the actual presentation of the training. It’s the preparation that brains me. In order to train a group of people, or multiple groups of people, it helps to write down what you know in an organized, meaningful and comprehensive manner. Seeing that usually, by the time training is required, the programmer hasn’t finished programming and changing the design specifications to accommodate his incompetence, it’s difficult to be comprehensive. After the new programming is moved into production, I make it a habit to ask the programming staff, "So, how does it really work?" In the training session I’d rather give them the basics and let them figure out the rest, as in, "Hey, we have some new system functionality moving in this weekend. Let me know if you have any questions. I'll be on vacation next week." This is the way I’d prefer to train since it is also how I learn - give me the skeleton and I’ll figure out where the spleen goes. And, if I happen to connect the sigmoid colon to the lung, you can bet your reversed flow circulatory system I’ll learn to never do that again. The worst part of training people, especially people you work with, is some of them like to use training sessions as bitchfests for all the other stuff that is messed up in the workplace (which will soon include this new stuff I’m telling you about). They don’t realize that if the technology worked the way it was intended, the company wouldn’t need half the employees, and they’d probably get rid of the whiners first. They realize it now, because I told them that. In fact, that is how I now start all of my training sessions, and then I throw head cheese at them to keep them on their toes. The company might want to train me in tact.
After the training session, I was famished. Breakfast bananas aren’t as filling as they appear. I dragged my brittle body to the vending machine only to find a holocaustic sign affixed to it: Out of Order. First, a one and a half percent raise, and now this! And Mother Teresa thought she had it rough. Actually, I have no idea what Mother Teresa thought, although I assume, once in a while, she thought, "golly, I need to go to the bathroom". Which is what I was thinking, but not before running out to 7-11 to buy a Coke and two 99 cent bags of barbecued Jays potato chips. After scarfing them down, I really had to go to the bathroom to read Sid’s last installment of the new television season. I recommend reading Sid’s work in the bathroom. It’ll give you an entire new appreciation for his work, especially if you have one of those "loud" people sitting next to you. They’re not as bad as the "splashers". And, nothing’s worse than those few that seem like they’re bowling in there - look out. How did I get on the bathroom subject? Thanks a lot Mother Teresa!
To build a bridge to the oasis that is lunch, I fended off a vendor, two clients and a project manager by giving them portions of what they needed. I’ll finish them off later. Or maybe tomorrow. You can’t give people everything they want immediately. It’s like feeding a stray cat - it’ll keep them coming back for more and telling its friends and, all of a sudden, you’re running a tabby half-way house, and your dogs have hired a lawyer.
Finally, lunch - the only reason I go to work. It’s no different than high school. All morning you long for lunch, and when you get to it, you cling to it like a bag of peanut butter and jelly, beer nuts and a third of a half eaten apple. I spent my lunch hour and fifteen minutes parked at a park watching the Canadian Geese walk around as if they owned the place. These geese have no fear of unarmed, non-charging humans. They come up to your car looking for handouts. They are the vagrants of nature. I tell them I have no cash, only credit cards. Suspiciously, they waddle away. I don’t think these geese can tell by sight what is food and what is a rock. They’ll pick up just about anything in their bill. If it tastes good, they eat it. If not, they drop it so the next goose can do the same thing. They don’t like onions, that’s for sure.
I awoke from my lunchtime nap disoriented, but oriented enough to know I had to conduct another training session at 2:30. I raced back to the office, hurdled over some cubicle walls, trampled Agatha, our token octegenarian, and made it to the training room in time to turn on the projector before the first trainee arrived. I arrived in time because my next training session wasn’t until 2:30 - TOMORROW. I guess I was more disoriented than I thought. Skillfully, I waited a half hour before I figured it out. This was a valuable waste of time. The art of wasting time effectively is not covered in most time management tutorials. Maybe there’s a book opportunity there. I’ll do that later.
When I returned to my office, I retrieved a voice message from Larry. You know Larry, right? He asked me to call him back, so I did. He told me he’d stop by the office in the morning to drop off the disk with the test data on it. He couldn’t have told me that in the voice mail? He had to make me call him back? What about voice mail etiquette? If you have information to give somebody, leave it all on the voice mail. If you need to discuss the information with somebody, then, and only then, do you ask that person to call you back. It’s the first thing they teach you when you get a phone. I think he was just lonely. He’s a sensitive dude, that Larry. I hear he makes his own pillows out of lint.
To bide my time until the end of the work day, I consoled a programmer, mushed around a database, took a few walks around the office and helped my boss reset her AOL email password so her husband could no longer read her emails. (I don’t’ know what’s going on there, and I don’t want to know.) Just like Fred Flinstone at the sound of the time-to-go-home horn, I slid down my dinosaur and jumped into my car at 4:30.
The rain was a bastard today, a bastard that transformed my usual 40 minute drive into an hour long drive. But, I didn’t mind. Frank Black helped me along the way. He helped me so much, at one point I realized I wasn’t paying attention to the road and almost slid off a cliff, which surprised me since the nearest cliff to me is in the Isle of Wight. If you’ve never gotten lost in a Frank Black album, I recommend it. But use an older album. He’s become an emulsion in his work with the Catholics. It happens to most of us with age. I’m an emulsion of crushed spirit and societal badgering, as you can tell by this essay. But, I try to make it work for me.
When I arrived home I was greeted by the boy and ex-Mrs. Rub, who were hanging out waiting to pick up the daughter from CCD. For those non-believers out there, CCD is Catholic schooling for children lucky enough not to have to go to a Catholic school, but unlucky enough to have at least one parent believing the Catholic religion is an important myth to understand. I lost religion in the divorce. But, I got to keep my guitar. They were sheltering at my house since it is closer to the church than ex-Mrs. Rub’s abode is. She was nice enough to buy me a Quarter Pounder value meal for dinner. I think she’s trying to kill me slowly since she knows I haven’t taken her out of my will yet, and she’s looking forward to getting the hundred and twenty-nine dollars I have saved in my bank account. I guess I’ll start my diet tomorrow. I was also greeted by the sight of some torn up dry wall. The dogs were on a mouse hunting expedition today. It was only a temporary piece of dry wall I put up until I get around to redoing the entire wall. Does seven years count as temporary? Is there a statute of limitations on temporariness?
I cleaned up the dry wall mess, and the boy and ex-Mrs. Rub left. While preparing to continue writing one of the three blog articles I’ve been working on, I happened to catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. It’s easy to catch a glimpse of yourself when you stand naked in front of a full length mirror plucking the gray hairs from your body with your teeth (the chest hairs are killers). I’m not concerned with the appearance of the gray hairs. You don’t need to see those to tell I’m old - my pants pulled up over my bellybutton give that away. I don’t like they way they feel against my skin. They’re abrasive. I think gray hairs are made out of molted cat tongues. So, I noticed I’ve put on a little bit of weight over the past twenty years. I decided to positively procrastinate the writing by working out, which is something I hadn’t done for two months. Positive procrastination is how I accomplish most things in life. I play two or more tasks against one another, and choose the least arduous to execute, while avoiding the others. This works out well, since I am able to accomplish something, while still satisfying my blowing-off instinct. It took me about two hours to clear off the dirty clothes, unused sporting equipment, beer cans and hamburger wrappers from my weight bench. I was wiped out after that. I sat down to rest at my computer, and this essay was magically typed out on the screen. So I pasted it to Leper Pop. I think the dogs wrote it to get me to forgive them for destroying my wall. Now, I’ll go to bed and do it all again tomorrow. Groundhog Day, starring Bill Murray, was no joke.
After hygienically preparing myself for a day’s exhibition, I entreated the boy to do the same. If I don’t instruct him to do this, he has no problem oozing his bodily effects on those who share the day with him. Come to think of it, I don’t have a problem doing that, either, if it didn’t make me feel so icky. Yes, I’m man enough to admit to an aversion to ickiness. By this time, the daughter had dressed, having showered the night before, and requested a hearty bowl of Fruit Loops for breakfast. I donned my chef’s hat and went to work in the kitchen, not only preparing breakfast, but three healthy lunches - peanut butter and jelly in a ziplock bag (no bread - I was out), beer nuts and a half eaten an apple split three ways. By the time I fed the dogs, ex-Mrs. Rub had arrived to take the kids to school, and I departed, with a breakfast of a single banana in hand.
Traffic was average as I switched partners on the radio dial dance floor - sports radio, Howard Stern, NPR and any tolerable music I could find. I heard nothing worth remembering. Before I knew it, I was at work; ten minutes late. My boss was happy to see that I was early.
As usual, I docked my laptop, unlocked my desk and braved my phone messages - all personal. That’s a good start. There is nothing worse than having a client or co-worker harassing you from the voice mail grave before you even have a chance to check your personal email or your fantasy football message boards, which I proceeded to do after I logged into the network . Some people are so inconsiderate. Normally, I like to spend about an hour and a half getting my personal chores out of the way before I delve into work, but today I had to conduct a training session at nine am regarding some new system magic we’re moving in at month end. My company has streamlined itself out of a training staff. Luckily, they chose me to fill the void.
I’m not much of a trainer. It’s not that I don’t have patience for ignorant people, I just don’t have patience for ignorant people. The only reason they are ignorant is because I hadn’t yet told them what not to be ignorant about. And, the only way I can unignorantate them is by putting up with their ignorance until I can train them, and I don’t have the patience for that. I don’t mind, for the most part, the actual presentation of the training. It’s the preparation that brains me. In order to train a group of people, or multiple groups of people, it helps to write down what you know in an organized, meaningful and comprehensive manner. Seeing that usually, by the time training is required, the programmer hasn’t finished programming and changing the design specifications to accommodate his incompetence, it’s difficult to be comprehensive. After the new programming is moved into production, I make it a habit to ask the programming staff, "So, how does it really work?" In the training session I’d rather give them the basics and let them figure out the rest, as in, "Hey, we have some new system functionality moving in this weekend. Let me know if you have any questions. I'll be on vacation next week." This is the way I’d prefer to train since it is also how I learn - give me the skeleton and I’ll figure out where the spleen goes. And, if I happen to connect the sigmoid colon to the lung, you can bet your reversed flow circulatory system I’ll learn to never do that again. The worst part of training people, especially people you work with, is some of them like to use training sessions as bitchfests for all the other stuff that is messed up in the workplace (which will soon include this new stuff I’m telling you about). They don’t realize that if the technology worked the way it was intended, the company wouldn’t need half the employees, and they’d probably get rid of the whiners first. They realize it now, because I told them that. In fact, that is how I now start all of my training sessions, and then I throw head cheese at them to keep them on their toes. The company might want to train me in tact.
After the training session, I was famished. Breakfast bananas aren’t as filling as they appear. I dragged my brittle body to the vending machine only to find a holocaustic sign affixed to it: Out of Order. First, a one and a half percent raise, and now this! And Mother Teresa thought she had it rough. Actually, I have no idea what Mother Teresa thought, although I assume, once in a while, she thought, "golly, I need to go to the bathroom". Which is what I was thinking, but not before running out to 7-11 to buy a Coke and two 99 cent bags of barbecued Jays potato chips. After scarfing them down, I really had to go to the bathroom to read Sid’s last installment of the new television season. I recommend reading Sid’s work in the bathroom. It’ll give you an entire new appreciation for his work, especially if you have one of those "loud" people sitting next to you. They’re not as bad as the "splashers". And, nothing’s worse than those few that seem like they’re bowling in there - look out. How did I get on the bathroom subject? Thanks a lot Mother Teresa!
To build a bridge to the oasis that is lunch, I fended off a vendor, two clients and a project manager by giving them portions of what they needed. I’ll finish them off later. Or maybe tomorrow. You can’t give people everything they want immediately. It’s like feeding a stray cat - it’ll keep them coming back for more and telling its friends and, all of a sudden, you’re running a tabby half-way house, and your dogs have hired a lawyer.
Finally, lunch - the only reason I go to work. It’s no different than high school. All morning you long for lunch, and when you get to it, you cling to it like a bag of peanut butter and jelly, beer nuts and a third of a half eaten apple. I spent my lunch hour and fifteen minutes parked at a park watching the Canadian Geese walk around as if they owned the place. These geese have no fear of unarmed, non-charging humans. They come up to your car looking for handouts. They are the vagrants of nature. I tell them I have no cash, only credit cards. Suspiciously, they waddle away. I don’t think these geese can tell by sight what is food and what is a rock. They’ll pick up just about anything in their bill. If it tastes good, they eat it. If not, they drop it so the next goose can do the same thing. They don’t like onions, that’s for sure.
I awoke from my lunchtime nap disoriented, but oriented enough to know I had to conduct another training session at 2:30. I raced back to the office, hurdled over some cubicle walls, trampled Agatha, our token octegenarian, and made it to the training room in time to turn on the projector before the first trainee arrived. I arrived in time because my next training session wasn’t until 2:30 - TOMORROW. I guess I was more disoriented than I thought. Skillfully, I waited a half hour before I figured it out. This was a valuable waste of time. The art of wasting time effectively is not covered in most time management tutorials. Maybe there’s a book opportunity there. I’ll do that later.
When I returned to my office, I retrieved a voice message from Larry. You know Larry, right? He asked me to call him back, so I did. He told me he’d stop by the office in the morning to drop off the disk with the test data on it. He couldn’t have told me that in the voice mail? He had to make me call him back? What about voice mail etiquette? If you have information to give somebody, leave it all on the voice mail. If you need to discuss the information with somebody, then, and only then, do you ask that person to call you back. It’s the first thing they teach you when you get a phone. I think he was just lonely. He’s a sensitive dude, that Larry. I hear he makes his own pillows out of lint.
To bide my time until the end of the work day, I consoled a programmer, mushed around a database, took a few walks around the office and helped my boss reset her AOL email password so her husband could no longer read her emails. (I don’t’ know what’s going on there, and I don’t want to know.) Just like Fred Flinstone at the sound of the time-to-go-home horn, I slid down my dinosaur and jumped into my car at 4:30.
The rain was a bastard today, a bastard that transformed my usual 40 minute drive into an hour long drive. But, I didn’t mind. Frank Black helped me along the way. He helped me so much, at one point I realized I wasn’t paying attention to the road and almost slid off a cliff, which surprised me since the nearest cliff to me is in the Isle of Wight. If you’ve never gotten lost in a Frank Black album, I recommend it. But use an older album. He’s become an emulsion in his work with the Catholics. It happens to most of us with age. I’m an emulsion of crushed spirit and societal badgering, as you can tell by this essay. But, I try to make it work for me.
When I arrived home I was greeted by the boy and ex-Mrs. Rub, who were hanging out waiting to pick up the daughter from CCD. For those non-believers out there, CCD is Catholic schooling for children lucky enough not to have to go to a Catholic school, but unlucky enough to have at least one parent believing the Catholic religion is an important myth to understand. I lost religion in the divorce. But, I got to keep my guitar. They were sheltering at my house since it is closer to the church than ex-Mrs. Rub’s abode is. She was nice enough to buy me a Quarter Pounder value meal for dinner. I think she’s trying to kill me slowly since she knows I haven’t taken her out of my will yet, and she’s looking forward to getting the hundred and twenty-nine dollars I have saved in my bank account. I guess I’ll start my diet tomorrow. I was also greeted by the sight of some torn up dry wall. The dogs were on a mouse hunting expedition today. It was only a temporary piece of dry wall I put up until I get around to redoing the entire wall. Does seven years count as temporary? Is there a statute of limitations on temporariness?
I cleaned up the dry wall mess, and the boy and ex-Mrs. Rub left. While preparing to continue writing one of the three blog articles I’ve been working on, I happened to catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. It’s easy to catch a glimpse of yourself when you stand naked in front of a full length mirror plucking the gray hairs from your body with your teeth (the chest hairs are killers). I’m not concerned with the appearance of the gray hairs. You don’t need to see those to tell I’m old - my pants pulled up over my bellybutton give that away. I don’t like they way they feel against my skin. They’re abrasive. I think gray hairs are made out of molted cat tongues. So, I noticed I’ve put on a little bit of weight over the past twenty years. I decided to positively procrastinate the writing by working out, which is something I hadn’t done for two months. Positive procrastination is how I accomplish most things in life. I play two or more tasks against one another, and choose the least arduous to execute, while avoiding the others. This works out well, since I am able to accomplish something, while still satisfying my blowing-off instinct. It took me about two hours to clear off the dirty clothes, unused sporting equipment, beer cans and hamburger wrappers from my weight bench. I was wiped out after that. I sat down to rest at my computer, and this essay was magically typed out on the screen. So I pasted it to Leper Pop. I think the dogs wrote it to get me to forgive them for destroying my wall. Now, I’ll go to bed and do it all again tomorrow. Groundhog Day, starring Bill Murray, was no joke.
Sid's Fall Preview - Thursdays
Another preview from Sid St. Sidney F’er…
CSI – I read that prosecutors are having a more difficult time getting convictions because all the dumbass jurors believe everything they see on TV and won’t convict the dirtiest of street thugs unless Grissom himself walks in with a book of fingerprints, a baggie full of pubic hair and a DNA sample from the Loch Ness Monster.
Joey – I had never heard of Concrete Blonde when they played a local bar years ago for a $1.07 cover charge thanks to WPGU-FM 107.1. But Moist Rub was in the know and dragged me along. I trusted the boy since when I first met him he was lying in bed in the dark, except for a string of Christmas lights, violently strumming a broken acoustic guitar along to Romeo Void. Years later, people not acquainted with Moist Rub would come to know Concrete Blonde after their biggest hit, Joey, which is too bad, since it’s not really representative of their catalog. That’s all I have to say about Joey.
(For any of you young punks that might be in the WPGU listening area these days, don’t miss the Sleater Kinney show on October 9th or I’ll kick your ass.)
Alias – 1. Jennifer Garner… overrated. 2. Why is her appearance on Leno on the mother f-ing news? 3. I could not care less whether she has a boy, a girl or a goddam squirrel monkey so quit acting like she just gave up the recipe to Coca-Cola.
The O.C. – I think this was called Beverly Hills 90210 when I was younger. Then they changed the name to Dawson’s Creek. And now it’s called the O.C. and I still don’t care.
Smallville – The only comic books I read were Archie’s and I still say Veronica was way hotter than Betty. There are guys that want you to believe that they prefer Betty, but if you Aha’d their ass and stuck them in that comic book they’d be taking on Veronica before they even noticed Betty. Those are the same guys that claim they’d choose the farm girl over the movie star if they were on the SS Minnow. But I digress.
If you’re into the Superman scene, I’ll grant an exemption for this show. Enjoy.
Survivor – You know what I liked about Rock Star? Besides Brooke’s wardrobe? The contestants weren’t constantly scheming and forming alliances and all that crap. Doesn’t everyone get enough of that crap at work or school or wherever they spend their days? As far as I’m concerned, both tribes can stick the ol’ immunity idol up their collective arses. LeperPop has spoken.
Eve – So the show is called Eve, but it’s really about a chick named Shelly played by Eve? Shouldn’t it be called Shelly? Or were they afraid people would mistake it for a Shelly Long comeback on UPN? If that’s the case they could have renamed the lead character Tanya or something, right?
Will & Grace – This is still on?
Cuts – This can’t be good.
Everwood – Even though I’m working on an early retirement to a small mountain town, I’m not sure I want to watch a TV show about it. In fact, I am sure I don’t want to watch a show about it.
The Apprentice – I finally capitulated and watched the first episode. It wasn’t bad. As long as they don’t start forming alliances, I might stick this one out. Note to self: order LeperPop helicopter. Note to self #2: Just spoke to Bernadette Peters – cancel order.
ER – Blow this popsicle stand and head over Discovery Health channel for Trauma: Life in the ER. Good stuff. Critical Hour is pretty good, too. I think I’ve watched enough to handle most cases at a Level II trauma center. So if you’re ever in the neighborhood and suffer a subdural hematoma, just swing by the house and I’ll get you taken care of.
Without a Trace – Another one I’ve seen by default thanks to Mrs. F’er. Not unbearable. Here’s my synopsis of every episode.
Subject 1: Help, help, my ________ is missing!
Jack: Tell us everything.
Subject 1: blah, blah, blah…
Jack: Is that everything?
Subject 1: Yes.
Jack: Hey, Martin – grab Danny and Poppy. I don’t think that’s everything.
Martin, Danny & Poppy (via cellphone): Hey, Jack, listen to what we found out.
Jack: Why didn’t you tell us everything?
Subject 1: I’m sorry – now you know everything.
Martin, Danny and/or Poppy: I/We found him/her!
CSI – I read that prosecutors are having a more difficult time getting convictions because all the dumbass jurors believe everything they see on TV and won’t convict the dirtiest of street thugs unless Grissom himself walks in with a book of fingerprints, a baggie full of pubic hair and a DNA sample from the Loch Ness Monster.
Joey – I had never heard of Concrete Blonde when they played a local bar years ago for a $1.07 cover charge thanks to WPGU-FM 107.1. But Moist Rub was in the know and dragged me along. I trusted the boy since when I first met him he was lying in bed in the dark, except for a string of Christmas lights, violently strumming a broken acoustic guitar along to Romeo Void. Years later, people not acquainted with Moist Rub would come to know Concrete Blonde after their biggest hit, Joey, which is too bad, since it’s not really representative of their catalog. That’s all I have to say about Joey.
(For any of you young punks that might be in the WPGU listening area these days, don’t miss the Sleater Kinney show on October 9th or I’ll kick your ass.)
Alias – 1. Jennifer Garner… overrated. 2. Why is her appearance on Leno on the mother f-ing news? 3. I could not care less whether she has a boy, a girl or a goddam squirrel monkey so quit acting like she just gave up the recipe to Coca-Cola.
The O.C. – I think this was called Beverly Hills 90210 when I was younger. Then they changed the name to Dawson’s Creek. And now it’s called the O.C. and I still don’t care.
Smallville – The only comic books I read were Archie’s and I still say Veronica was way hotter than Betty. There are guys that want you to believe that they prefer Betty, but if you Aha’d their ass and stuck them in that comic book they’d be taking on Veronica before they even noticed Betty. Those are the same guys that claim they’d choose the farm girl over the movie star if they were on the SS Minnow. But I digress.
If you’re into the Superman scene, I’ll grant an exemption for this show. Enjoy.
Survivor – You know what I liked about Rock Star? Besides Brooke’s wardrobe? The contestants weren’t constantly scheming and forming alliances and all that crap. Doesn’t everyone get enough of that crap at work or school or wherever they spend their days? As far as I’m concerned, both tribes can stick the ol’ immunity idol up their collective arses. LeperPop has spoken.
Eve – So the show is called Eve, but it’s really about a chick named Shelly played by Eve? Shouldn’t it be called Shelly? Or were they afraid people would mistake it for a Shelly Long comeback on UPN? If that’s the case they could have renamed the lead character Tanya or something, right?
Will & Grace – This is still on?
Cuts – This can’t be good.
Everwood – Even though I’m working on an early retirement to a small mountain town, I’m not sure I want to watch a TV show about it. In fact, I am sure I don’t want to watch a show about it.
The Apprentice – I finally capitulated and watched the first episode. It wasn’t bad. As long as they don’t start forming alliances, I might stick this one out. Note to self: order LeperPop helicopter. Note to self #2: Just spoke to Bernadette Peters – cancel order.
ER – Blow this popsicle stand and head over Discovery Health channel for Trauma: Life in the ER. Good stuff. Critical Hour is pretty good, too. I think I’ve watched enough to handle most cases at a Level II trauma center. So if you’re ever in the neighborhood and suffer a subdural hematoma, just swing by the house and I’ll get you taken care of.
Without a Trace – Another one I’ve seen by default thanks to Mrs. F’er. Not unbearable. Here’s my synopsis of every episode.
Subject 1: Help, help, my ________ is missing!
Jack: Tell us everything.
Subject 1: blah, blah, blah…
Jack: Is that everything?
Subject 1: Yes.
Jack: Hey, Martin – grab Danny and Poppy. I don’t think that’s everything.
Martin, Danny & Poppy (via cellphone): Hey, Jack, listen to what we found out.
Jack: Why didn’t you tell us everything?
Subject 1: I’m sorry – now you know everything.
Martin, Danny and/or Poppy: I/We found him/her!
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
Sid's Fall Preview - Wednesdays
Lost – So this isn’t a reality show? It’s a drama based on a reality show? Have we finally come full circle?
Rebecca: This is so bad it’s almost good.
Enid: This is so bad it’s gone past good and back to bad.
I haven’t seen the show. It seems to be getting some acclaim but I’m still not on board. Appears to be Gilligan’s Island without the jokes and the wacky first mate. Or the movie star. There might be a professor, but I can’t tell. TV Guide says there’s a millionaire, but not sure if he has a wife. I am kind of curious to find out what was in the goddam secret hatch, but not enough to watch.
The other thing I can’t reconcile is that every time I fly, the average passenger seems to weigh-in north of 250. However, every female that got stranded on the island appears to be an aerobics instructor. Not that there's anything wrong with that.
George Lopez – Never thought he was particularly funny, but as Brooke would say, can we get serious here? I read that he darn near died but his wife gave him one of her kidneys. Apparently she’s even less funny and needed him to keep the cash flowing to the Lopez household. I asked Mrs. F’er if she’d give me a kidney if I needed one and she mumbled something about not being a match and walked away. Looks like she’ll be waking up in a tub full of ice water with a note to call 911.
Still Standing – I first fell in love with Jami Gertz in Crossroads. Unlike Phoebe Cates, it looks like time has been kind to Jami. However, even with the introduction of the wacky wiffle ball playing, beer swilling neighbor, I don’t seem to care.
That 70’s Show – OK, I’ve seen this show more than I would care to admit. Maybe I’m just trying to figure out how Fez got to nail Lindsay Lohan back when she was still hot.
America’s Next Top Model – From what I’m hearing there might be some mindless entertainment value that will make you feel good about yourself even if you’re not a size 0. However, the whole modeling industry is a waste of time and is due to implode as soon as they figure out that their industry is not exempt from the law of diminishing returns. I’m a degreed econ major, so stand back and allow me to explain. There are plenty of hot women in this world that are fully capable of walking up and down a runway wearing silly designer clothes or getting their picture taken for a magazine cover. Like the babes at the sunglasses store. Once you get to that level of hotness, how much do you really gain by paying an outrageous premium for one of America’s old top models like Tyra or Cindy? Do you really sell more magazines or more winged lingerie by employing Tyra? Don’t think so. Enjoy the ride while you can, you vapid vixens.
One Tree Hill – I think this show is popular with some age group that I’m not in anymore. And that age group consists wholly of asshats.
Stacked – I never had to get a hepatitis shot before checking out a book until now.
Yes, Dear – I used to hang out at a bar and one of the owners would go hunting every year and then serve up venison chili for the next month. Yes, deer. Sorry. I’m not familiar with this show, but it seemed too lame to even make fun of.
Veronica Mars – It appears there is a character named Weevil Navarro. That’s pretty funny, but not enough to make me watch. Adding Steve Guttenberg isn’t going to help matters unless he brings the guy from Police Academy that makes the crazy sound effects. Now that’s comedy.
CSI: NY – See previous entries for CSI. Except here the investigators have the added challenge of having to distinguish between the original trauma and the subsequent damage from rats gnawing on the discarded corpse.
L&O – Haven’t watched since Angie left us for that spare Jason Sehorn.
Remember, these are just reviews of returning shows on the major networks as defined by TV Guide. Maybe next week I'll take a look at what else is out there. Or maybe I'll just see if I can awaken Moist Rub from hibernation.
Rebecca: This is so bad it’s almost good.
Enid: This is so bad it’s gone past good and back to bad.
I haven’t seen the show. It seems to be getting some acclaim but I’m still not on board. Appears to be Gilligan’s Island without the jokes and the wacky first mate. Or the movie star. There might be a professor, but I can’t tell. TV Guide says there’s a millionaire, but not sure if he has a wife. I am kind of curious to find out what was in the goddam secret hatch, but not enough to watch.
The other thing I can’t reconcile is that every time I fly, the average passenger seems to weigh-in north of 250. However, every female that got stranded on the island appears to be an aerobics instructor. Not that there's anything wrong with that.
George Lopez – Never thought he was particularly funny, but as Brooke would say, can we get serious here? I read that he darn near died but his wife gave him one of her kidneys. Apparently she’s even less funny and needed him to keep the cash flowing to the Lopez household. I asked Mrs. F’er if she’d give me a kidney if I needed one and she mumbled something about not being a match and walked away. Looks like she’ll be waking up in a tub full of ice water with a note to call 911.
Still Standing – I first fell in love with Jami Gertz in Crossroads. Unlike Phoebe Cates, it looks like time has been kind to Jami. However, even with the introduction of the wacky wiffle ball playing, beer swilling neighbor, I don’t seem to care.
That 70’s Show – OK, I’ve seen this show more than I would care to admit. Maybe I’m just trying to figure out how Fez got to nail Lindsay Lohan back when she was still hot.
America’s Next Top Model – From what I’m hearing there might be some mindless entertainment value that will make you feel good about yourself even if you’re not a size 0. However, the whole modeling industry is a waste of time and is due to implode as soon as they figure out that their industry is not exempt from the law of diminishing returns. I’m a degreed econ major, so stand back and allow me to explain. There are plenty of hot women in this world that are fully capable of walking up and down a runway wearing silly designer clothes or getting their picture taken for a magazine cover. Like the babes at the sunglasses store. Once you get to that level of hotness, how much do you really gain by paying an outrageous premium for one of America’s old top models like Tyra or Cindy? Do you really sell more magazines or more winged lingerie by employing Tyra? Don’t think so. Enjoy the ride while you can, you vapid vixens.
One Tree Hill – I think this show is popular with some age group that I’m not in anymore. And that age group consists wholly of asshats.
Stacked – I never had to get a hepatitis shot before checking out a book until now.
Yes, Dear – I used to hang out at a bar and one of the owners would go hunting every year and then serve up venison chili for the next month. Yes, deer. Sorry. I’m not familiar with this show, but it seemed too lame to even make fun of.
Veronica Mars – It appears there is a character named Weevil Navarro. That’s pretty funny, but not enough to make me watch. Adding Steve Guttenberg isn’t going to help matters unless he brings the guy from Police Academy that makes the crazy sound effects. Now that’s comedy.
CSI: NY – See previous entries for CSI. Except here the investigators have the added challenge of having to distinguish between the original trauma and the subsequent damage from rats gnawing on the discarded corpse.
L&O – Haven’t watched since Angie left us for that spare Jason Sehorn.
Remember, these are just reviews of returning shows on the major networks as defined by TV Guide. Maybe next week I'll take a look at what else is out there. Or maybe I'll just see if I can awaken Moist Rub from hibernation.
Monday, September 26, 2005
Sid's Fall Preview - Tuesdays
Tuesdays with Sid:
House – Genius. Dr. House is my idol and I can only hope to get my anti-social behavior to work for me half as well as he does. Grab your Taber’s Cyclopedic Medical Dictionary and join the fun. Make sure you know the difference between a virus and a bacterial infection and that should be enough to get you started. Even if you don’t know the difference, you can always fantasize that Dr. Cameron will be waiting for you the next time you have to go to the free clinic for that rash. The closest I came was a nurse that looked like Phoebe Cates during an outpatient procedure I had done. If I wasn’t so sedated and there wasn’t a doctor there with his hand down my throat, it could have been very Fast Times at Ridgemont High. But I digress. Watch House.
According to Jim – I’ve had a slight crush on Courtney Thorne-Smith ever since Melrose Place. Not an over the top, hiding in the bushes hoping to see her walk her dog crush, but more like a wish I went to high school with her so I could have taken her to prom kind of crush. However, I didn’t go to the prom in my own high school so I’m not sure what makes me think I would have gone to prom at her high school, let alone scored a date with her. Anyway, I’ve never seen this show. I think I’m still bitter about John being dead and Jim still being alive. Skip this show and watch the Blues Brothers instead. Every week if you need to. I want you to have it memorized so you don’t miss any future references to Sid’s favorite movie.
Biggest Loser – I’m all on-board with people getting in shape, but do it on your own time. I wonder how many people are sitting on their couch with a bag of Cheesy-Poofs and a Big Gulp of Mountain Dew and watching this.
Gilmore Girls – Something about Lauren Graham always creeped me out, but I still enjoyed Bad Santa. The only reason I might watch this show is if they introduce Billy Bob Thornton into the cast and let him say “fuck” a lot on network TV.
NCIS – CSI: Navy, right? Or something like that? All I know is it’s the guy that was on the cover of People magazine all through the 80’s solving some sort of mysteries involving seamen. Give me a break, I’m allowed a cheap one like that once in a while.
Rodney – I never heard of him or his show. So being a diligent little blogger I did some research. I looked at the titles of the cuts on his Greatest Hits album, including “Wife at Garage Sale”, “Walmart”, and “Letter to my Penis”. Based on that, I won’t be watching and neither should you.
The Amazing Race – OK, I’m finally intrigued. I’ve never seen an episode, but people rave about his one and it seems to be winning some awards. Maybe I’ll set the VCR this Tuesday. They don’t have to eat sheep brains, do they?
The Office – I heard great stuff about the BBC version and was also a fan of Steve Carell’s work on the Daily Show. But after I watched it I felt like I had just toured Graceland. Very absurd, yet not as impressive as I had expected. I’ve worked with some whack-jobs in the past, but this show went so far beyond a shred of believability that I never gave it another chance. At least Office Space had a plot.
Boston Legal – There’s a little kitchenette right across the hall from my office and every Monday morning, two co-workers would stand right there and essentially re-tell the entire episode to each other while getting their coffee. I thought about fashioning a noose and placing it around my neck to express my annoyance, as it didn’t sound nearly as amusing as they claimed. But I flipped across it by mistake one night and gave it a chance. I guess if you’re looking for an Ally McBeal replacement without the creepy dancing baby, this might do.
L&O: SVU – Yep, an hour of brutal rape victims and child molesters is always pleasant right before going to bed.
Returning Midseason:
Trading Spouses – See Wife Swap (Mondays)
Scrubs – I’ve seen it few times and it didn’t totally suck, but I don’t go out of my way to watch it. I thought for a while that Dr. Reid was kind of cute, but then realized I just think she has good hair. Not unlike a style that Crystal Bernard might wear. That Zach Braff guy seems like someone that should annoy me, but doesn’t for some reason. So I guess what I’m saying is that if you’re quarantined with a contagious rash, go ahead and pass some time with this show.
American Idol – The ultimate spectator sport for people that spend their days listening to “continuous lite hits” from the 80’s, 90’s and today! The only redeeming quality of this show is seeing people who think they’re Wayne F-ing Newton because they starred in their high school production of Guys and Dolls being told that they’re better suited for a career at their local shoe store.
So yesterday I make a comment about Joey Lawrence guest starring on some WB or UPN show because Scott Baio was unavailable. It appears the comment was surprisingly accurate since tonight on Arrested Development we were introduced to a new character named Bob Loblaw being played by none other than… Scott Baio. Sometimes truth is stranger than LeperPop.
House – Genius. Dr. House is my idol and I can only hope to get my anti-social behavior to work for me half as well as he does. Grab your Taber’s Cyclopedic Medical Dictionary and join the fun. Make sure you know the difference between a virus and a bacterial infection and that should be enough to get you started. Even if you don’t know the difference, you can always fantasize that Dr. Cameron will be waiting for you the next time you have to go to the free clinic for that rash. The closest I came was a nurse that looked like Phoebe Cates during an outpatient procedure I had done. If I wasn’t so sedated and there wasn’t a doctor there with his hand down my throat, it could have been very Fast Times at Ridgemont High. But I digress. Watch House.
According to Jim – I’ve had a slight crush on Courtney Thorne-Smith ever since Melrose Place. Not an over the top, hiding in the bushes hoping to see her walk her dog crush, but more like a wish I went to high school with her so I could have taken her to prom kind of crush. However, I didn’t go to the prom in my own high school so I’m not sure what makes me think I would have gone to prom at her high school, let alone scored a date with her. Anyway, I’ve never seen this show. I think I’m still bitter about John being dead and Jim still being alive. Skip this show and watch the Blues Brothers instead. Every week if you need to. I want you to have it memorized so you don’t miss any future references to Sid’s favorite movie.
Biggest Loser – I’m all on-board with people getting in shape, but do it on your own time. I wonder how many people are sitting on their couch with a bag of Cheesy-Poofs and a Big Gulp of Mountain Dew and watching this.
Gilmore Girls – Something about Lauren Graham always creeped me out, but I still enjoyed Bad Santa. The only reason I might watch this show is if they introduce Billy Bob Thornton into the cast and let him say “fuck” a lot on network TV.
NCIS – CSI: Navy, right? Or something like that? All I know is it’s the guy that was on the cover of People magazine all through the 80’s solving some sort of mysteries involving seamen. Give me a break, I’m allowed a cheap one like that once in a while.
Rodney – I never heard of him or his show. So being a diligent little blogger I did some research. I looked at the titles of the cuts on his Greatest Hits album, including “Wife at Garage Sale”, “Walmart”, and “Letter to my Penis”. Based on that, I won’t be watching and neither should you.
The Amazing Race – OK, I’m finally intrigued. I’ve never seen an episode, but people rave about his one and it seems to be winning some awards. Maybe I’ll set the VCR this Tuesday. They don’t have to eat sheep brains, do they?
The Office – I heard great stuff about the BBC version and was also a fan of Steve Carell’s work on the Daily Show. But after I watched it I felt like I had just toured Graceland. Very absurd, yet not as impressive as I had expected. I’ve worked with some whack-jobs in the past, but this show went so far beyond a shred of believability that I never gave it another chance. At least Office Space had a plot.
Boston Legal – There’s a little kitchenette right across the hall from my office and every Monday morning, two co-workers would stand right there and essentially re-tell the entire episode to each other while getting their coffee. I thought about fashioning a noose and placing it around my neck to express my annoyance, as it didn’t sound nearly as amusing as they claimed. But I flipped across it by mistake one night and gave it a chance. I guess if you’re looking for an Ally McBeal replacement without the creepy dancing baby, this might do.
L&O: SVU – Yep, an hour of brutal rape victims and child molesters is always pleasant right before going to bed.
Returning Midseason:
Trading Spouses – See Wife Swap (Mondays)
Scrubs – I’ve seen it few times and it didn’t totally suck, but I don’t go out of my way to watch it. I thought for a while that Dr. Reid was kind of cute, but then realized I just think she has good hair. Not unlike a style that Crystal Bernard might wear. That Zach Braff guy seems like someone that should annoy me, but doesn’t for some reason. So I guess what I’m saying is that if you’re quarantined with a contagious rash, go ahead and pass some time with this show.
American Idol – The ultimate spectator sport for people that spend their days listening to “continuous lite hits” from the 80’s, 90’s and today! The only redeeming quality of this show is seeing people who think they’re Wayne F-ing Newton because they starred in their high school production of Guys and Dolls being told that they’re better suited for a career at their local shoe store.
So yesterday I make a comment about Joey Lawrence guest starring on some WB or UPN show because Scott Baio was unavailable. It appears the comment was surprisingly accurate since tonight on Arrested Development we were introduced to a new character named Bob Loblaw being played by none other than… Scott Baio. Sometimes truth is stranger than LeperPop.
Sunday, September 25, 2005
Sid's Fall Preview - Mondays
Assuming that you’re un-American and don’t watch Monday Night Football, here are your options:
Monday:
Medium – Just how I like my steaks. But if you’re psychic you already knew that. There’s an idea for a theme restaurant – psychic waiters so you don’t have to order. The food just shows up. Where’s the mystery in a detective show if the psychics already know it all? This show should be 5 minutes long. It’s not, so I’m out.
Arrested Development – There’s a sunglasses store at the mall where I work and the owner is a marketing genius. He only hires amazingly hot girls to work there. At any given time, you can see the guys lined up there, trying on sunglasses, and whipping out the credit cards thinking that they’re going to get laid for buying them. They don’t, the amazingly hot girls rack up the commissions, and the owner grows richer. What the hell does this have to do with Arrested Development? Calm down and I’ll get to it. So there was this one girl that worked there that looked like someone famous, but I just couldn’t figure it out. Then about six months later, it came to me – she was a perfect brunette copy of Charlize Theron. I was never a big fan of Charlize or familiar with her work, but became a fan once I figured out the connection. Anyway, the sunglasses girl eventually quit, but the store replaced her and is still racking up sales. Arrested Development was a great show before they added Charlize this year and will continue to be a great show. And I still look great in my new sunglasses.
King of Queens – I don’t remember why, but I watched this show for the first time earlier this year. It didn’t suck, but there are so many other worthwhile things you could do for that 30 minutes. Like sit-ups. Or at least switch to the Discovery Channel and impress your coworkers the next day with your knowledge of world pestilence.
One on One – I’m not really sure what’s going on here, but the stars kind of look like a young Tiger Woods and a young Janet Jackson. If that’s your thing, check it out.
7th Heaven – One of the biggest beatings that network television can deliver. For some reason, Mrs. F’er watched some of this series in the first or second season. Not religiously, but enough for me to want to drown Simon, kick Matt in the nuts repeatedly, bitch slap Mary, deport Lucy to a third world country, lock Ruthie in a dark closet, send the twins to be raised by Angelina Jolie, and force the Reverend and his wife into the federal witness protection program never to be heard from again. Speaking of the Reverend, be sure to check out Sid’s favorite stand-up comic – Bill Burr. He’s got a new special out on HBO that is not to be missed. Even better live if he comes to your town. He's also got a blog to keep you amused between our postings.
Wife Swap – I think I watched Trading Spouses once when I was over-tired and lacking critical thinking skills. I assume this show is the same. I think it was the ancient philosopher Moist Rub that once said, “Do what you want, want what you do, no regrets.” Is the desire to be on television so great for these families that they voluntarily sign up to bring a polar opposite into their family to tell them what to do? Gee, I wonder how that’s going to work out. I don’t have time for asswipes like this.
All of Us – Except me.
Girlfriends – Don’t think so.
Two and a Half Men – I didn’t like it the first time around when it was called My Two Dads. This looked pathetic when it first came out and I never watched. However, I saw a few minutes a couple times when it was the lead-in to Rock Star. I realized I had no regrets except for the fact that it was the lead-in to Rock Star and I saw a few minutes. If Charlie had managed his movie money a little better and not blown so much on hookers, he wouldn’t have had to do this crap.
Las Vegas – I never even heard of this show until I read my TV Guide. I started to get excited when I heard Nikki Cox was on the show and even considered tuning in during time-outs of MNF, but it appears that Nikki has left the show and the nasty skeleton of Lara Flynn Boyle will be coming on board. So I’ll just stay in my den and watch the game surrounded by my Nikki posters and dream of the day this talented young actress gets her own show again.
Half & Half – Joey Lawrence guest stars this season. What’s the problem – Scott Baio wasn’t available?
CSI: Miami – Now we’re getting into Mrs. F’er’s field. I believe the final requirement to earn her degree was to write a scientific paper explaining why the original CSI sucks. I would assume the Miami version sucks just as bad, except with more expensive designer clothes, always a good choice for a crime scene, and sunglasses.
Returning Mid-Season:
The Bachelor – Don’t even suggest that we watch this. I get ill just watching the promos of these douchebags handing out roses to the gaggle of vapid wenches.
Fear Factor – Here’s the deal. It’s really just a gross out contest. They aren’t going to let you die or anything with all the harnesses and safety equipment so there’s nothing to fear. If you can choke down some sheep brains, you’re good to go. And if I want to watch people eat disgusting food, I’ll just head down to my local McDonald’s.
Jake in Progress – If you’re a chick that grew up in the 80’s with a crush on John Stamos, I’ll give you a pass on this one. Especially since you probably think you have a chance with him since the divorce. Right. About the same chance that Nikki Cox is going to show up to install my satellite dish.
Nanny 911 – Here’s some personal insight into Sid’s life – there are no little F’er’s running around the house and there never will be. I don’t have the time or patience for any snot-nosed punks, so why would I want to spend an hour watching the worst lot of them? Unless this nanny woman employs electro-shock therapy, I’m not interested.
24 – Where do I start? I missed seasons 1 through 4, but heard enough about it that I decided to check it out last season against Mrs. F’er’s initial objections. I found it extremely tiresome and tuned out sometime around 2-1/2 hours into the 24. Unfortunately, Mrs. F’er replaced my Nikki Cox posters with Kiefer posters and duct taped my mouth for an hour every Monday night since I proved myself incapable of not making sarcastic remarks for the remaining 21-1/2 hours that she became obsessed with. Now all I hear is, “Kiefer wouldn’t wear that” and “Kiefer wouldn’t say that” and “Kiefer wouldn’t react like that”. I’m considering faking my own death and starting over somewhere where Kiefer is an unknown. How can I compete with a guy that can banish world terrorism in 24 hours without even taking a nap or eating a Hershey Bar?
Speaking of which…
Monday:
Medium – Just how I like my steaks. But if you’re psychic you already knew that. There’s an idea for a theme restaurant – psychic waiters so you don’t have to order. The food just shows up. Where’s the mystery in a detective show if the psychics already know it all? This show should be 5 minutes long. It’s not, so I’m out.
Arrested Development – There’s a sunglasses store at the mall where I work and the owner is a marketing genius. He only hires amazingly hot girls to work there. At any given time, you can see the guys lined up there, trying on sunglasses, and whipping out the credit cards thinking that they’re going to get laid for buying them. They don’t, the amazingly hot girls rack up the commissions, and the owner grows richer. What the hell does this have to do with Arrested Development? Calm down and I’ll get to it. So there was this one girl that worked there that looked like someone famous, but I just couldn’t figure it out. Then about six months later, it came to me – she was a perfect brunette copy of Charlize Theron. I was never a big fan of Charlize or familiar with her work, but became a fan once I figured out the connection. Anyway, the sunglasses girl eventually quit, but the store replaced her and is still racking up sales. Arrested Development was a great show before they added Charlize this year and will continue to be a great show. And I still look great in my new sunglasses.
King of Queens – I don’t remember why, but I watched this show for the first time earlier this year. It didn’t suck, but there are so many other worthwhile things you could do for that 30 minutes. Like sit-ups. Or at least switch to the Discovery Channel and impress your coworkers the next day with your knowledge of world pestilence.
One on One – I’m not really sure what’s going on here, but the stars kind of look like a young Tiger Woods and a young Janet Jackson. If that’s your thing, check it out.
7th Heaven – One of the biggest beatings that network television can deliver. For some reason, Mrs. F’er watched some of this series in the first or second season. Not religiously, but enough for me to want to drown Simon, kick Matt in the nuts repeatedly, bitch slap Mary, deport Lucy to a third world country, lock Ruthie in a dark closet, send the twins to be raised by Angelina Jolie, and force the Reverend and his wife into the federal witness protection program never to be heard from again. Speaking of the Reverend, be sure to check out Sid’s favorite stand-up comic – Bill Burr. He’s got a new special out on HBO that is not to be missed. Even better live if he comes to your town. He's also got a blog to keep you amused between our postings.
Wife Swap – I think I watched Trading Spouses once when I was over-tired and lacking critical thinking skills. I assume this show is the same. I think it was the ancient philosopher Moist Rub that once said, “Do what you want, want what you do, no regrets.” Is the desire to be on television so great for these families that they voluntarily sign up to bring a polar opposite into their family to tell them what to do? Gee, I wonder how that’s going to work out. I don’t have time for asswipes like this.
All of Us – Except me.
Girlfriends – Don’t think so.
Two and a Half Men – I didn’t like it the first time around when it was called My Two Dads. This looked pathetic when it first came out and I never watched. However, I saw a few minutes a couple times when it was the lead-in to Rock Star. I realized I had no regrets except for the fact that it was the lead-in to Rock Star and I saw a few minutes. If Charlie had managed his movie money a little better and not blown so much on hookers, he wouldn’t have had to do this crap.
Las Vegas – I never even heard of this show until I read my TV Guide. I started to get excited when I heard Nikki Cox was on the show and even considered tuning in during time-outs of MNF, but it appears that Nikki has left the show and the nasty skeleton of Lara Flynn Boyle will be coming on board. So I’ll just stay in my den and watch the game surrounded by my Nikki posters and dream of the day this talented young actress gets her own show again.
Half & Half – Joey Lawrence guest stars this season. What’s the problem – Scott Baio wasn’t available?
CSI: Miami – Now we’re getting into Mrs. F’er’s field. I believe the final requirement to earn her degree was to write a scientific paper explaining why the original CSI sucks. I would assume the Miami version sucks just as bad, except with more expensive designer clothes, always a good choice for a crime scene, and sunglasses.
Returning Mid-Season:
The Bachelor – Don’t even suggest that we watch this. I get ill just watching the promos of these douchebags handing out roses to the gaggle of vapid wenches.
Fear Factor – Here’s the deal. It’s really just a gross out contest. They aren’t going to let you die or anything with all the harnesses and safety equipment so there’s nothing to fear. If you can choke down some sheep brains, you’re good to go. And if I want to watch people eat disgusting food, I’ll just head down to my local McDonald’s.
Jake in Progress – If you’re a chick that grew up in the 80’s with a crush on John Stamos, I’ll give you a pass on this one. Especially since you probably think you have a chance with him since the divorce. Right. About the same chance that Nikki Cox is going to show up to install my satellite dish.
Nanny 911 – Here’s some personal insight into Sid’s life – there are no little F’er’s running around the house and there never will be. I don’t have the time or patience for any snot-nosed punks, so why would I want to spend an hour watching the worst lot of them? Unless this nanny woman employs electro-shock therapy, I’m not interested.
24 – Where do I start? I missed seasons 1 through 4, but heard enough about it that I decided to check it out last season against Mrs. F’er’s initial objections. I found it extremely tiresome and tuned out sometime around 2-1/2 hours into the 24. Unfortunately, Mrs. F’er replaced my Nikki Cox posters with Kiefer posters and duct taped my mouth for an hour every Monday night since I proved myself incapable of not making sarcastic remarks for the remaining 21-1/2 hours that she became obsessed with. Now all I hear is, “Kiefer wouldn’t wear that” and “Kiefer wouldn’t say that” and “Kiefer wouldn’t react like that”. I’m considering faking my own death and starting over somewhere where Kiefer is an unknown. How can I compete with a guy that can banish world terrorism in 24 hours without even taking a nap or eating a Hershey Bar?
Speaking of which…
Saturday, September 24, 2005
Sid's Fall TV Preview - Sundays
As luck would have it, there was TV Guide sitting in my hotel room this week with a complete fall preview. I perused it, hoping to resolve my quandary of what to write about next since we seem to have attracted a crowd of TV junkies. So here it is, Sid’s Fall TV Preview.
Sunday:
Desperate Housewives – I always wished that Howie Long would just clothesline Teri Hatcher during those inane Radio Shack commercials. I had a feeling that he wanted to but they put a rider in his contract specifically forbidding it. I can only hope that a combination of bad potato salad and malaria finds it’s way to the Wisteria Lane block party and I never have to hear about this show or see these scrags again.
The Simpsons – You know what I like about this show? It’s like a Hershey Bar. The chocolate engineers in Hershey PA hit upon a classic, winning formula and left it alone. No tricking it up like those bubbleheads at Coca-Cola with their new Coke, Cherry Coke, etc. Love it or hate it, you tune into the Simpsons and you know what you’re getting. Rock on, Homer.
King of the Hill – Luanne is the epitome of the rural country girl that looks hot now, but by the time she’s 40 she’ll have doubled in weight and you find out that you’re married to Rosanne Barr without the caustic wit to keep things entertaining. I can’t wait for her to show up on the Surreal Life in 20 years to find out if I’m right. While we’re on the topic of cartoon characters, am I the only one that thinks Elastigirl looks pretty hot with her hair all wet after she crashes into the ocean in The Incredibles?
Charmed – So this bunch of scrags are supposed to be witches instead of whores like the ones on Wisteria Lane, right? Yeah, still not interested. Alysssa Milano – overrated. The only way I’m watching witches is if they do a remake of Bewitched starring Crystal Bernard as Samantha and John Cusack as Darren. And Paul Reiser as the second Darren.
Cold Case – Haven’t seen it. Don’t plan to. You’re on your own.
Extreme Makeover: Home Edition – I’m not sure what this show is, but it sounds like a home improvement show for people down on their luck. Like spare, out-of-work musicians living in their cars. I’ll take a pass.
West Wing – I thought Geena Davis was president now. I’m confused. With 87 news channels on cable showing nothing but a bunch of whiney and/or pompous commentators arguing about politics, why would you want to spend leisure time watching more politics?
Family Guy – Best damn show on TV. Perhaps the only show that the F’er household stops down for each week. If you haven’t seen it, Sid says check it out.
Blue Collar TV – Even the promos for this looked bad, but with all the buzz I decided to check it out once. Once. You might be a dumbass if you find this entertaining. If I hear one more jagoff say, “Git ‘er done”, they’re going to get a mouthful of quick dry concrete.
Law & Order: CI – I was never a big fan of L&O but Mrs. F’er is, so I’ve seen many of them by default. I never minded it too much, except for CI due to that obnoxious know-it-all detective who is like the guy sitting in the front row of every class that would ask questions just to show off his advanced knowledge of the subject. You know even the teachers hate that guy.
American Dad – You might think that I would like this show since I gave Family Guy such rave reviews, but I usually tune out. Family Guy is like sex… it’s really good, but I kind of need a break when it’s over.
Crossing Jordan – I don’t think they’re talking about the country of Jordan, but that might make for an explosive reality show. Otherwise, not interested.
Grey’s Anatomy - If NBC had developed this show they could have just called it ER: Seattle. But they didn’t and you need to tune into ABC if you want to waste your time watching slutty, neurotic med students.
So there’s your Sunday network recap. Watch some football, and if the Sunday night ESPN game sucks then catch some Family Guy. If you’re not a football fan, go out and get yourself some exercise. You need it.
After I get done with the networks, I'll let you know if I find anything worthwhile on cable. I highly doubt it, but let me know if there's something Sid needs to know about.
Sunday:
Desperate Housewives – I always wished that Howie Long would just clothesline Teri Hatcher during those inane Radio Shack commercials. I had a feeling that he wanted to but they put a rider in his contract specifically forbidding it. I can only hope that a combination of bad potato salad and malaria finds it’s way to the Wisteria Lane block party and I never have to hear about this show or see these scrags again.
The Simpsons – You know what I like about this show? It’s like a Hershey Bar. The chocolate engineers in Hershey PA hit upon a classic, winning formula and left it alone. No tricking it up like those bubbleheads at Coca-Cola with their new Coke, Cherry Coke, etc. Love it or hate it, you tune into the Simpsons and you know what you’re getting. Rock on, Homer.
King of the Hill – Luanne is the epitome of the rural country girl that looks hot now, but by the time she’s 40 she’ll have doubled in weight and you find out that you’re married to Rosanne Barr without the caustic wit to keep things entertaining. I can’t wait for her to show up on the Surreal Life in 20 years to find out if I’m right. While we’re on the topic of cartoon characters, am I the only one that thinks Elastigirl looks pretty hot with her hair all wet after she crashes into the ocean in The Incredibles?
Charmed – So this bunch of scrags are supposed to be witches instead of whores like the ones on Wisteria Lane, right? Yeah, still not interested. Alysssa Milano – overrated. The only way I’m watching witches is if they do a remake of Bewitched starring Crystal Bernard as Samantha and John Cusack as Darren. And Paul Reiser as the second Darren.
Cold Case – Haven’t seen it. Don’t plan to. You’re on your own.
Extreme Makeover: Home Edition – I’m not sure what this show is, but it sounds like a home improvement show for people down on their luck. Like spare, out-of-work musicians living in their cars. I’ll take a pass.
West Wing – I thought Geena Davis was president now. I’m confused. With 87 news channels on cable showing nothing but a bunch of whiney and/or pompous commentators arguing about politics, why would you want to spend leisure time watching more politics?
Family Guy – Best damn show on TV. Perhaps the only show that the F’er household stops down for each week. If you haven’t seen it, Sid says check it out.
Blue Collar TV – Even the promos for this looked bad, but with all the buzz I decided to check it out once. Once. You might be a dumbass if you find this entertaining. If I hear one more jagoff say, “Git ‘er done”, they’re going to get a mouthful of quick dry concrete.
Law & Order: CI – I was never a big fan of L&O but Mrs. F’er is, so I’ve seen many of them by default. I never minded it too much, except for CI due to that obnoxious know-it-all detective who is like the guy sitting in the front row of every class that would ask questions just to show off his advanced knowledge of the subject. You know even the teachers hate that guy.
American Dad – You might think that I would like this show since I gave Family Guy such rave reviews, but I usually tune out. Family Guy is like sex… it’s really good, but I kind of need a break when it’s over.
Crossing Jordan – I don’t think they’re talking about the country of Jordan, but that might make for an explosive reality show. Otherwise, not interested.
Grey’s Anatomy - If NBC had developed this show they could have just called it ER: Seattle. But they didn’t and you need to tune into ABC if you want to waste your time watching slutty, neurotic med students.
So there’s your Sunday network recap. Watch some football, and if the Sunday night ESPN game sucks then catch some Family Guy. If you’re not a football fan, go out and get yourself some exercise. You need it.
After I get done with the networks, I'll let you know if I find anything worthwhile on cable. I highly doubt it, but let me know if there's something Sid needs to know about.
Wednesday, September 21, 2005
Rock Star Finale - Sid
So in tonight’s episode we found out that Maggie won the half million dollars and will front our band, INXS. Actually, I forgot I was on the east coast and tuned in an hour early by mistake. I thought Brooke was looking a little more Asian than usual.
Bad hairstyle, Brooke – I had a similar one back in 7th grade.
Then the parade of rocker rejects. They only showed up because Mark Burnett promised them asscake and a group shower. Except for Ty, who thought that OBINXS would realize the error of their ways, apologize for all humankind, and choose him to lead their band, INXS. Boy, were they fooled.
Brooke, Dave, OBINXS, the house band, and the old guy in the audience wearing the Docker’s shirt all reminded us that there can only be one winner and that winner would be chosen tonight.
Dave finally ran out of stuff to say, panicked, and stole Brooke’s “raise your hand” bit. The rockers were caught offguard and all raised their hands to predict a victory. Brooke, not knowing what to say since the hand raising was done, reacted like a true professional and used her time to present a moving tribute to New Orleans in haiku form.
JD’s joke about living in his car would have been much better if he had included Moist Rub’s bit about his mom banging somebody upstairs. JD probably gets that fat, hairy Bruce guy from Hollywood Squares to write his material.
Hammer Time.
MiG reminded us again that he left a very successful stage career in London. I once dated a girl that had an unsuccessful stage career. I guess if you don’t have to set up the folding chairs before the performance you can consider it successful. The highlight of her resume was co-headlining with a guy in dancing bear outfit at some children’s theater. Just like tonight’s rockers, she claims she made it to the final three audition for the show My Two Dads that Paul Reiser did before he broke up with the liberal, cool dad and hooked up with Helen Hunt. But I digress.
Bohemian Rhapsody: Goddam, I miss Suzie. Back in the reject den, Brandon and Neal started a sing-a-long of Caught Up In You that was more enthralling than what was going on onstage. Mig just lost the privilege to further capitalize the “g” in his name. At best he sounded like a sorority girl getting assaulted at the local frat house. OBINXS gave him some polite applause, much like one might find at a luncheon where a local businessman is receiving a plaque for donating a 19” TV to the youth baseball raffle.
I missed the intro to JD’s song because a friend called from the Dallas Stars game to find out if Marty won. Perhaps I’ll call her from the next Lovehammers show to find out if the Stars won the game after the first intermission.
You Can’t Always Get What You Want: My first place was a studio apartment that had a shower, kitchenette, and bed all within arm’s reach depending on which way you faced. It was really a decent arrangement, much like JD’s song. Some acapella stuff, a little acoustic stuff, and then some manic stuff after he launched from his stool as if a rodent had started to burrow up his ass. JD learned a lot from Dan Akroyd at this week’s stage dancing clinic and I could easily see him making the transition from Elvis impersonator to Elwood Blues impersonator with some harp lessons from Suzie. Ty stewed in the reject den over the preference given to guttural white boys in rock n’ roll.
We saw Marty’s transition from the mad conductor to the savvy performer. True. Marty talked about how the most potent performance is to stand still and sing. Less is more. Marty is smart guy so I think he realizes that’s all true in the context of this show. I’m sure there are many elements that he can take away from the show, but I’m missing angry Marty a bit. Don’t tell KISS that less is more or try to convince Wendy O. Williams to stand still and sing. You’re probably wasting your time since I’m pretty sure KISS is broken up and I know the great Wendy O. Williams is dead.
Marty thinks he can carry the future of the band. Like the guy with the pick up truck that you want to help you move. Except OBINXS can hire professional movers and don’t need the guy with the pickup. They’re just looking for some people to come over after the move for the housewarming party and help them stock their bar.
Wish You Were Here: I think that Marty is probably responsible for some new Pink Floyd fans. Mr. Floyd should probably send some royalties his way. Another solid performance of the song – Jordis looked proudly on like a soccer mom plastering an honor roll sticker on the bumper of her Chevy Tahoe, Dana howled and passed a joint around the reject den, and Garry Beers fought to hold back the tears like at the end of a sad movie. Like Slapshot… when Reg holds out eternal hope for getting back together with his wife, but you know it just ain’t gonna happen. I cry every time.
Now the deliberations. Whatever. We all know they knew who they wanted going into the final show. But they played along…. “candlesticks always make a nice gift, and uh, maybe you could find out where she's registered and maybe a place-setting or maybe a silverware pattern. Okay, let's get rid of Mig!"
Tim gave us an amazingly touching speech, directed at the amazing rockers and their amazing talent, amazing effort, and the amazing moments they gave us over this amazing summer. But Mig was so amazingly wrong for a rock band, he was Mig-nanimously chosen to watch the rest of the show from the reject den. Dave shared the feelings of joy that overcame him watching Mig perform. That’s nice if I’m watching a telethon or the church choir, but not very rock n’ roll. Mig thanked his voters in Australia and the Philippines for allowing him to stay in the mansion and eat sushi, and told his fans of all other nationalities to suck his codpiece. He promoted the upcoming INXS tour as the “most amazing show on Earth” – which I believe is one step below the Ringling Brothers Circus which is bills itself as the greatest show on Earth.
The final audition – Marty and JD would see if the OBINXS still have what it takes to get out of their thrones and drag their aging rocker bodies to the stage to keep up with them.
Marty – Don’t Change: I’m ready for the show to be over. I like watching Marty perform, but I’m tired of seeing people trying to cover the same INXS songs over and over again. I still don’t think he’s roit for OBINXS.
JD - What You Need: Jon is wearing gardening gloves. I’m not sure if he just came in from tending to the roses or if he has lost the calluses on his hands after sitting in his throne too goddam long. JD decided to take a break in the middle of the most important performance of his life to have some water. Mig used to remind him to hydrate before performances, so he was a bit lost. I think he tried to order a grilled cheese, too, but the stagehands shooed him back onstage.
More fake deliberations. I doubt they waited until the final songs to base their decision on who smelled the least offensive under the hot stage lights.
Dave called this the best summer of his life. Unless he was getting Brooke to join him and Carmen in bed every week, I’d say he was lying to us. I was just starting to trust him, too.
The band said something about Kenny Chesney completing them and some sort of annulment. JD has passion and is amazing. Marty is riveting and amazing. And the winner is…. JD. JD cries, Marty makes out with Brooke, the band does shots of Geritol, and Dave ditches his little rocker buddies and goes back to hanging out with Jerry Cantrell.
Tim stops the madness to tells Marty to have his people call JD’s people about a possible opening gig. Marty smiles and nods politely the same way most people do when offered a sample of sheep brains.
JD joins his band, INXS, for their new hit Easy, Easy. Garry already looks nervously on at JD and has his people contacting Marty’s people about a spot in his band.
May we never have to see that damn Shakira commercial again.
A final serious note before I leave you tonight – thanks to everyone that’s stopped by LeperPop this summer. You can expect continuing commentary from LeperPop (scalping tickets to the great American freak show) and we hope you continue to visit even though the rockers have left the mansion. More thanks to Mrs. F’er for giving me the time to get these words down as it’s really taken time away from our quilting bees. And finally, special thanks to Moist Rub for joining me in this endeavor and taking it to a whole new level.
Bad hairstyle, Brooke – I had a similar one back in 7th grade.
Then the parade of rocker rejects. They only showed up because Mark Burnett promised them asscake and a group shower. Except for Ty, who thought that OBINXS would realize the error of their ways, apologize for all humankind, and choose him to lead their band, INXS. Boy, were they fooled.
Brooke, Dave, OBINXS, the house band, and the old guy in the audience wearing the Docker’s shirt all reminded us that there can only be one winner and that winner would be chosen tonight.
Dave finally ran out of stuff to say, panicked, and stole Brooke’s “raise your hand” bit. The rockers were caught offguard and all raised their hands to predict a victory. Brooke, not knowing what to say since the hand raising was done, reacted like a true professional and used her time to present a moving tribute to New Orleans in haiku form.
JD’s joke about living in his car would have been much better if he had included Moist Rub’s bit about his mom banging somebody upstairs. JD probably gets that fat, hairy Bruce guy from Hollywood Squares to write his material.
Hammer Time.
MiG reminded us again that he left a very successful stage career in London. I once dated a girl that had an unsuccessful stage career. I guess if you don’t have to set up the folding chairs before the performance you can consider it successful. The highlight of her resume was co-headlining with a guy in dancing bear outfit at some children’s theater. Just like tonight’s rockers, she claims she made it to the final three audition for the show My Two Dads that Paul Reiser did before he broke up with the liberal, cool dad and hooked up with Helen Hunt. But I digress.
Bohemian Rhapsody: Goddam, I miss Suzie. Back in the reject den, Brandon and Neal started a sing-a-long of Caught Up In You that was more enthralling than what was going on onstage. Mig just lost the privilege to further capitalize the “g” in his name. At best he sounded like a sorority girl getting assaulted at the local frat house. OBINXS gave him some polite applause, much like one might find at a luncheon where a local businessman is receiving a plaque for donating a 19” TV to the youth baseball raffle.
I missed the intro to JD’s song because a friend called from the Dallas Stars game to find out if Marty won. Perhaps I’ll call her from the next Lovehammers show to find out if the Stars won the game after the first intermission.
You Can’t Always Get What You Want: My first place was a studio apartment that had a shower, kitchenette, and bed all within arm’s reach depending on which way you faced. It was really a decent arrangement, much like JD’s song. Some acapella stuff, a little acoustic stuff, and then some manic stuff after he launched from his stool as if a rodent had started to burrow up his ass. JD learned a lot from Dan Akroyd at this week’s stage dancing clinic and I could easily see him making the transition from Elvis impersonator to Elwood Blues impersonator with some harp lessons from Suzie. Ty stewed in the reject den over the preference given to guttural white boys in rock n’ roll.
We saw Marty’s transition from the mad conductor to the savvy performer. True. Marty talked about how the most potent performance is to stand still and sing. Less is more. Marty is smart guy so I think he realizes that’s all true in the context of this show. I’m sure there are many elements that he can take away from the show, but I’m missing angry Marty a bit. Don’t tell KISS that less is more or try to convince Wendy O. Williams to stand still and sing. You’re probably wasting your time since I’m pretty sure KISS is broken up and I know the great Wendy O. Williams is dead.
Marty thinks he can carry the future of the band. Like the guy with the pick up truck that you want to help you move. Except OBINXS can hire professional movers and don’t need the guy with the pickup. They’re just looking for some people to come over after the move for the housewarming party and help them stock their bar.
Wish You Were Here: I think that Marty is probably responsible for some new Pink Floyd fans. Mr. Floyd should probably send some royalties his way. Another solid performance of the song – Jordis looked proudly on like a soccer mom plastering an honor roll sticker on the bumper of her Chevy Tahoe, Dana howled and passed a joint around the reject den, and Garry Beers fought to hold back the tears like at the end of a sad movie. Like Slapshot… when Reg holds out eternal hope for getting back together with his wife, but you know it just ain’t gonna happen. I cry every time.
Now the deliberations. Whatever. We all know they knew who they wanted going into the final show. But they played along…. “candlesticks always make a nice gift, and uh, maybe you could find out where she's registered and maybe a place-setting or maybe a silverware pattern. Okay, let's get rid of Mig!"
Tim gave us an amazingly touching speech, directed at the amazing rockers and their amazing talent, amazing effort, and the amazing moments they gave us over this amazing summer. But Mig was so amazingly wrong for a rock band, he was Mig-nanimously chosen to watch the rest of the show from the reject den. Dave shared the feelings of joy that overcame him watching Mig perform. That’s nice if I’m watching a telethon or the church choir, but not very rock n’ roll. Mig thanked his voters in Australia and the Philippines for allowing him to stay in the mansion and eat sushi, and told his fans of all other nationalities to suck his codpiece. He promoted the upcoming INXS tour as the “most amazing show on Earth” – which I believe is one step below the Ringling Brothers Circus which is bills itself as the greatest show on Earth.
The final audition – Marty and JD would see if the OBINXS still have what it takes to get out of their thrones and drag their aging rocker bodies to the stage to keep up with them.
Marty – Don’t Change: I’m ready for the show to be over. I like watching Marty perform, but I’m tired of seeing people trying to cover the same INXS songs over and over again. I still don’t think he’s roit for OBINXS.
JD - What You Need: Jon is wearing gardening gloves. I’m not sure if he just came in from tending to the roses or if he has lost the calluses on his hands after sitting in his throne too goddam long. JD decided to take a break in the middle of the most important performance of his life to have some water. Mig used to remind him to hydrate before performances, so he was a bit lost. I think he tried to order a grilled cheese, too, but the stagehands shooed him back onstage.
More fake deliberations. I doubt they waited until the final songs to base their decision on who smelled the least offensive under the hot stage lights.
Dave called this the best summer of his life. Unless he was getting Brooke to join him and Carmen in bed every week, I’d say he was lying to us. I was just starting to trust him, too.
The band said something about Kenny Chesney completing them and some sort of annulment. JD has passion and is amazing. Marty is riveting and amazing. And the winner is…. JD. JD cries, Marty makes out with Brooke, the band does shots of Geritol, and Dave ditches his little rocker buddies and goes back to hanging out with Jerry Cantrell.
Tim stops the madness to tells Marty to have his people call JD’s people about a possible opening gig. Marty smiles and nods politely the same way most people do when offered a sample of sheep brains.
JD joins his band, INXS, for their new hit Easy, Easy. Garry already looks nervously on at JD and has his people contacting Marty’s people about a spot in his band.
May we never have to see that damn Shakira commercial again.
A final serious note before I leave you tonight – thanks to everyone that’s stopped by LeperPop this summer. You can expect continuing commentary from LeperPop (scalping tickets to the great American freak show) and we hope you continue to visit even though the rockers have left the mansion. More thanks to Mrs. F’er for giving me the time to get these words down as it’s really taken time away from our quilting bees. And finally, special thanks to Moist Rub for joining me in this endeavor and taking it to a whole new level.
Tuesday, September 20, 2005
Rock Star - Finale Moist Rub
Tonight’s finale was the most amazing finale I’ve ever seen. It was so amazing, the only word I can think of to describe it is "amazing". Nothing could ever be more amazing than tonight’s amazing finale. The amazing amazingness was amazingly amazing. The word amazing must have been used at least 30 times tonight. I lost count after 10, as I was wearing my socks. I wondered why everybody was using the word amazing so much. Then, we broke for commercial - an Amazing Race commercial. It all became clear to me. This series was created for the specific purpose of promoting the Amazing Race show. Having figured that out, I turned off the TV since it no longer mattered who won - it’s all been a farce, just like Better Off Dead.
Brooke welcomed us wearing an elegant black dress thing (I’m not much into fashion so I don't know what it's called) with her hair done up ala Charlie’s Angels. Not a good look (the hair, not the dress thing) for her, but I put up with it the best I could. Sometimes, at night, when I'm all alone, I know she misses me. She introduced the ex-Rockers in order of disappearance: Dana, Will, Neal, Heather, Daphna, Brandon, Tara, Jessica, Dom Deluise, Deanna, Ty, Jordis and Suzie. My face actually eked a smile when I saw Brandon. I guess I missed the big lug. The ex-Rockers sequestered themselves in the choir den.
After a recap of this summer’s exhibition of the life of a rock star, they set the scene by summarizing the remaining rockers. JD transformed from a string of controversy into a dynamic performer. Marty brought himself from chaos to become a master of intensity. MiG went from a stage performer to a rock star (but not quite, as we’ll learn later). Dave was excited as hell and everything was awesome for him. I think he was hopped up on the goop. He beat Brooke to the raising hand punch and asked the guys who thought he would win. They all raised their hands, but JD was slow on the draw. Dave asked JD why he didn’t do the "rock star thing" and drive his new Civic into the pool. He answered, because rock stars don’t drive Civics. Do you have a Civic, Dave? I don’t think so. Actually, JD’s wit surprised me when he said he needed a place to live if the INXS thing didn’t work out. Nicely done, Jebediah. Since he took care of that, there is no need for me to spoof the living-in-the-car drama. Dave asked Marty about his leaving the mansion experience. Marty equated it with his metamorphosis (Franz Kafka?) and he was ready to move on, since they changed the locks and he was now a giant insect. Then, Dave addressed MiG, "Oh, are you still here? There’s an open seat next to Suzie."
MiG commenced the sing-off with Bohemian Rhapsody. He began with a tender, mournful vocal that reminded me to call my mother (but not until the show was over, and the blog was written, and the dogs were let out. By then it would be too late to call her, so I’ll call her the next time I hear MiG sing. I'm going to miss my Mommy.). MiG has made his own transformation with tonight’s performance. The MiGster extricated Donny Osmond, and replaced him with JIMMY OSMOND! It is truly sad. Not MiG - me. It is sad that I can decipher the essence of Jimmy Osmond from Donny Osmond. As penance, I will refrain from listening to my Shaun Cassidy albums for a whole week. MiG tried his best to rock out. Flailing air guitar wheels while standing back to back with Rafael, prancing resolutely on stage, crooning with death at his heels - he was quite valiant, the poor little rockeroid. To make matters worse, his voice cut out every now and then. I don’t know if it was due to bad mic-manship or if there were technical difficulties with the mic, itself. The bottom line is he couldn’t out-Bohemian-Rhapsody Suzie, and he’s been doing this for a living, and she’s been sent home and then brought back again for the ex-Rocker march of shame, so what does that tell you? I’m sorry to say that at that point, the crayon was back in the box. As a final insult to MiG, Nate didn’t even bother to tune the gong. I was a little bummed they did not conduct the post performance ridicule. I wanted to hear the INXS tell MiG he goofed on his song choice.
JD began his rendition of You Can’t Always Get What You Want with a hypnotizing a capella chant. Eventually, he channeled the spirit of John Cougar Mellonhead to help him with the first verse until he could chunka-chunka his way through the chorus. JD seems a little heavy on his Charlie Chaplin feet. They may want to consider some ballet lessons for him. It worked for Willie Gault. He borrowed some snake arm moves from Marty and then disrespected his stool (which is something he should keep behind closed doors) on his way to a pretty good performance. I finally got the results back from the vocal lab on JD. The quality of his vocal (and, subsequently, the reduction of my irritation) is inversely proportional to the number of instances of that guttural texture he paints onto notes. He limited that tonight, and I would like him to know I appreciate that.
Marty was last to take the oral exam. His thesis was Wish You Were Here. He chose this song to show the INXS that his initial performance of this song was no fluke and this is who he has become. I originally hoped he’d sing Pretty Vegas, but I’m glad he didn’t. He’s too upstanding to stoop to such devilry. Plus, I’m pretty sure he thinks that song blows. Or maybe that’s me. I get us confused, sometimes. During Marty’s performance they showed Jordis smiling like a proud sister. And Garry Beers sunk into deep introspection until he realized he left the water running in his bathtub. Marty wished we were there similarly to the way he sang it the first time. It may have been a little less intense, but that could be due to our familiarity with him and this song. He finished it off with a statuesque pose and threw a few hammer pound outs to his buddies, the ex-Rockers.
Time to get rid of MiG. This is where most of the amazings spewed forth. Tim thanked the final three for their time, effort, talent and the ride they gave him to the show. He portended that each would have a career of amazing caliber. Tim didn’t let the boys dangle very long before he lopped off MiG. JD started making out with MiG until Marty was able to separate them with Nate’s gong. MiG surprised everybody by taking the bad news warmly and respectfully. There were SWAT team members posted back stage and in the audience in the event that MiG lost it and began pelting everyone with rotting sushi he’s been collecting in his pockets from each meal at the mansion. They were unneeded (the SWAT team and the rotting portions of sushi). MiG thanked everyone around the world and he loves everybody. Then he took his seat in the ex-Rocker den, with hugs abound.
Tim announced that the INXS would perform with the final two Rockers, Marty and JD. Hearing that, the House Band rushed out to see if they could get there waiter jobs back. We returned from commercial to see a laser light show with the wistful sounds of Don’t Change brewing in the dark. They wouldn’t let us see who was to sing first. I kept screaming at the TV, TURN ON THE LIGHTS, TURN ON THE LIGHTS, TURN ON THE LIGHTS! To shut me up, my neighbor rode his Harley into my family room and flashed his headlight on me. So, I shot him in the face. Finally, we were allowed to see Marty standing on stage with the INXS. I couldn’t hear the guitar very well, similar to their DVD, Live Baby Live. Tim mustn’t be very confident in his guitar playing or they have a rotten sound guy. Marty was not engrossed in this song. About half way through I knew the INXS was not right for our pal, Marty Casey. It was as if Marty was holding back so the band could keep up with him. Marty executed a suave and reassured conductor move to culminate his final performance as a statement of his personal growth.
JD took the stage next to perform What You Need. JD is more Michael Hutchence than Marty, to be sure. He was much more into the song and into the band than Marty was. He sang the song well, limiting his guttural pitfalls, which, again, I appreciate. It was over.
The INXS had two choices: pick up where they left off with JD as MH, or have some balls and blaze new trails with Marty.
Before the final decision reared itself, Dave chimed in. He declared that this was the best summer of his life. I guess it’s not really that great being a rock star if being on this show is all it takes to top your summer charts. Tim grabbed the microphone from Dave, bonked him on the head with it and got down to business. He told JD that he sings with passion and is an amazing performer. He thinks Marty is adaptable and has become a riveting front person. Having seen many Lovehammers shows, I could have told Tim that Marty was already a riveting front person, but it never came up in any of our conversations. All we ever talked about were Tim's feet. Hmm. However, Marty has become a more versatile front person.
Finally, Tim told JD he was right for their band. JD dropped to the floor and prayed to Allah as Marty backed up to give him the spotlight. That whole Casey family is one class act. Better than the Osmonds. The INXS deemed JD a "rock stah" and toasted him with a shot of Australian Kangaroo Piss Moonshine. After he was done puking, Tim told Marty how impressed they were with him and suggested he opens for the INXS on tour. Marty grinned, "Or vice versa." Dave offered Marty his guitar services and alternating nights with Carmen (Dave’s been having a little trouble keeping up). Marty congratulated JD, stating JD got what he deserved - a soon to be failed tour and album and a one way ticket back to the car.
The brand new INXS congregated on stage, while Marty leaped over to the ex-Rocker den to be with his real friends. The JD imbued INXS performed their new song, Easy Easy, which is a blatant rip off of INXS’s I Need You Tonight, with a little bit of Pretty Vegas mixed into the chorus. If I was the INXS, I’d sue those bastards. They cut to Marty who seemed to be enjoying the tune, with Tara looming in the background wallowing in bitchdom. The crowd didn’t look too enthused with the new single. I wasn’t impressed with it, either, but sometimes it takes me a while to feel a song/album. It took me about a month to get into Bad Religion’s The Gray Race, so I’ll give this song a chance. I’ll even give JD a chance, because I’m not into negative vibes, man. Congrats to ya, Mate JD. And Congrats to Marty and the rest of the Lovehammers and to me, because I didn’t really want Marty to win, knowing that all he needed was the exposure. Marty, if you’re reading this, meet me at the Valley Friday night - I’m sure you'll have nothing better to do.
Brooke welcomed us wearing an elegant black dress thing (I’m not much into fashion so I don't know what it's called) with her hair done up ala Charlie’s Angels. Not a good look (the hair, not the dress thing) for her, but I put up with it the best I could. Sometimes, at night, when I'm all alone, I know she misses me. She introduced the ex-Rockers in order of disappearance: Dana, Will, Neal, Heather, Daphna, Brandon, Tara, Jessica, Dom Deluise, Deanna, Ty, Jordis and Suzie. My face actually eked a smile when I saw Brandon. I guess I missed the big lug. The ex-Rockers sequestered themselves in the choir den.
After a recap of this summer’s exhibition of the life of a rock star, they set the scene by summarizing the remaining rockers. JD transformed from a string of controversy into a dynamic performer. Marty brought himself from chaos to become a master of intensity. MiG went from a stage performer to a rock star (but not quite, as we’ll learn later). Dave was excited as hell and everything was awesome for him. I think he was hopped up on the goop. He beat Brooke to the raising hand punch and asked the guys who thought he would win. They all raised their hands, but JD was slow on the draw. Dave asked JD why he didn’t do the "rock star thing" and drive his new Civic into the pool. He answered, because rock stars don’t drive Civics. Do you have a Civic, Dave? I don’t think so. Actually, JD’s wit surprised me when he said he needed a place to live if the INXS thing didn’t work out. Nicely done, Jebediah. Since he took care of that, there is no need for me to spoof the living-in-the-car drama. Dave asked Marty about his leaving the mansion experience. Marty equated it with his metamorphosis (Franz Kafka?) and he was ready to move on, since they changed the locks and he was now a giant insect. Then, Dave addressed MiG, "Oh, are you still here? There’s an open seat next to Suzie."
MiG commenced the sing-off with Bohemian Rhapsody. He began with a tender, mournful vocal that reminded me to call my mother (but not until the show was over, and the blog was written, and the dogs were let out. By then it would be too late to call her, so I’ll call her the next time I hear MiG sing. I'm going to miss my Mommy.). MiG has made his own transformation with tonight’s performance. The MiGster extricated Donny Osmond, and replaced him with JIMMY OSMOND! It is truly sad. Not MiG - me. It is sad that I can decipher the essence of Jimmy Osmond from Donny Osmond. As penance, I will refrain from listening to my Shaun Cassidy albums for a whole week. MiG tried his best to rock out. Flailing air guitar wheels while standing back to back with Rafael, prancing resolutely on stage, crooning with death at his heels - he was quite valiant, the poor little rockeroid. To make matters worse, his voice cut out every now and then. I don’t know if it was due to bad mic-manship or if there were technical difficulties with the mic, itself. The bottom line is he couldn’t out-Bohemian-Rhapsody Suzie, and he’s been doing this for a living, and she’s been sent home and then brought back again for the ex-Rocker march of shame, so what does that tell you? I’m sorry to say that at that point, the crayon was back in the box. As a final insult to MiG, Nate didn’t even bother to tune the gong. I was a little bummed they did not conduct the post performance ridicule. I wanted to hear the INXS tell MiG he goofed on his song choice.
JD began his rendition of You Can’t Always Get What You Want with a hypnotizing a capella chant. Eventually, he channeled the spirit of John Cougar Mellonhead to help him with the first verse until he could chunka-chunka his way through the chorus. JD seems a little heavy on his Charlie Chaplin feet. They may want to consider some ballet lessons for him. It worked for Willie Gault. He borrowed some snake arm moves from Marty and then disrespected his stool (which is something he should keep behind closed doors) on his way to a pretty good performance. I finally got the results back from the vocal lab on JD. The quality of his vocal (and, subsequently, the reduction of my irritation) is inversely proportional to the number of instances of that guttural texture he paints onto notes. He limited that tonight, and I would like him to know I appreciate that.
Marty was last to take the oral exam. His thesis was Wish You Were Here. He chose this song to show the INXS that his initial performance of this song was no fluke and this is who he has become. I originally hoped he’d sing Pretty Vegas, but I’m glad he didn’t. He’s too upstanding to stoop to such devilry. Plus, I’m pretty sure he thinks that song blows. Or maybe that’s me. I get us confused, sometimes. During Marty’s performance they showed Jordis smiling like a proud sister. And Garry Beers sunk into deep introspection until he realized he left the water running in his bathtub. Marty wished we were there similarly to the way he sang it the first time. It may have been a little less intense, but that could be due to our familiarity with him and this song. He finished it off with a statuesque pose and threw a few hammer pound outs to his buddies, the ex-Rockers.
Time to get rid of MiG. This is where most of the amazings spewed forth. Tim thanked the final three for their time, effort, talent and the ride they gave him to the show. He portended that each would have a career of amazing caliber. Tim didn’t let the boys dangle very long before he lopped off MiG. JD started making out with MiG until Marty was able to separate them with Nate’s gong. MiG surprised everybody by taking the bad news warmly and respectfully. There were SWAT team members posted back stage and in the audience in the event that MiG lost it and began pelting everyone with rotting sushi he’s been collecting in his pockets from each meal at the mansion. They were unneeded (the SWAT team and the rotting portions of sushi). MiG thanked everyone around the world and he loves everybody. Then he took his seat in the ex-Rocker den, with hugs abound.
Tim announced that the INXS would perform with the final two Rockers, Marty and JD. Hearing that, the House Band rushed out to see if they could get there waiter jobs back. We returned from commercial to see a laser light show with the wistful sounds of Don’t Change brewing in the dark. They wouldn’t let us see who was to sing first. I kept screaming at the TV, TURN ON THE LIGHTS, TURN ON THE LIGHTS, TURN ON THE LIGHTS! To shut me up, my neighbor rode his Harley into my family room and flashed his headlight on me. So, I shot him in the face. Finally, we were allowed to see Marty standing on stage with the INXS. I couldn’t hear the guitar very well, similar to their DVD, Live Baby Live. Tim mustn’t be very confident in his guitar playing or they have a rotten sound guy. Marty was not engrossed in this song. About half way through I knew the INXS was not right for our pal, Marty Casey. It was as if Marty was holding back so the band could keep up with him. Marty executed a suave and reassured conductor move to culminate his final performance as a statement of his personal growth.
JD took the stage next to perform What You Need. JD is more Michael Hutchence than Marty, to be sure. He was much more into the song and into the band than Marty was. He sang the song well, limiting his guttural pitfalls, which, again, I appreciate. It was over.
The INXS had two choices: pick up where they left off with JD as MH, or have some balls and blaze new trails with Marty.
Before the final decision reared itself, Dave chimed in. He declared that this was the best summer of his life. I guess it’s not really that great being a rock star if being on this show is all it takes to top your summer charts. Tim grabbed the microphone from Dave, bonked him on the head with it and got down to business. He told JD that he sings with passion and is an amazing performer. He thinks Marty is adaptable and has become a riveting front person. Having seen many Lovehammers shows, I could have told Tim that Marty was already a riveting front person, but it never came up in any of our conversations. All we ever talked about were Tim's feet. Hmm. However, Marty has become a more versatile front person.
Finally, Tim told JD he was right for their band. JD dropped to the floor and prayed to Allah as Marty backed up to give him the spotlight. That whole Casey family is one class act. Better than the Osmonds. The INXS deemed JD a "rock stah" and toasted him with a shot of Australian Kangaroo Piss Moonshine. After he was done puking, Tim told Marty how impressed they were with him and suggested he opens for the INXS on tour. Marty grinned, "Or vice versa." Dave offered Marty his guitar services and alternating nights with Carmen (Dave’s been having a little trouble keeping up). Marty congratulated JD, stating JD got what he deserved - a soon to be failed tour and album and a one way ticket back to the car.
The brand new INXS congregated on stage, while Marty leaped over to the ex-Rocker den to be with his real friends. The JD imbued INXS performed their new song, Easy Easy, which is a blatant rip off of INXS’s I Need You Tonight, with a little bit of Pretty Vegas mixed into the chorus. If I was the INXS, I’d sue those bastards. They cut to Marty who seemed to be enjoying the tune, with Tara looming in the background wallowing in bitchdom. The crowd didn’t look too enthused with the new single. I wasn’t impressed with it, either, but sometimes it takes me a while to feel a song/album. It took me about a month to get into Bad Religion’s The Gray Race, so I’ll give this song a chance. I’ll even give JD a chance, because I’m not into negative vibes, man. Congrats to ya, Mate JD. And Congrats to Marty and the rest of the Lovehammers and to me, because I didn’t really want Marty to win, knowing that all he needed was the exposure. Marty, if you’re reading this, meet me at the Valley Friday night - I’m sure you'll have nothing better to do.
Monday, September 19, 2005
Rock Star - Sept 18 Moist Rub
Cheers to the final 3! The final mansion show began with the three rockseteers appreciating themselves with a toast. I wonder what they toasted with. Probably wine. But if they were really cool, it was Absinthe, which, I hear is making a comeback with the young ‘uns in the know. If you’ve never tried Absinthe, check out this painting by Degas. This is what you’ll look like after a few belts. It is one of my favorite paintings. Good for me, but what about the Rockers? I think they prefer the Picasso.
They provided us some insight to the Rockers’ thoughts and feelings about being in the final three during dinner. Their discussion seemed forced, as if a producer told them to talk about it (would that really happen on a reality show?). Somehow, I get the feeling this is not how they would have interacted had the cameras not been there, and they were sitting in JD’s basement shooting the shit. Yes, I mean lying down underneath his car. I think it would have gone more like this:
Marty declared that this is a big deal, but he was more concerned with the fact that there were no more chicks in the house. This man has priorities. MiG feels he cheated the system to have survived this long. No, MiG, you played right into the system - the system of garnering foreign ratings. You are nothing but a marble in the Ker-Plunk of international marketing. JD is lying like a lamb in the weeds hoping to pounce on the lion that is INXS (he’s never been very good at metaphors). Marty feigns concern that MiG might actually pose a threat. Maybe in a pose off, but not in this competition.
OK, who left the front door unlocked? How the hell did Dave get in here again? "I’ve been living in Deanna’s room sniffing her sheets since she left." Dave announced to them that they will be challenged in a new clinic - the Infomercial Clinic, in which the goal would be for them to sell as many Honda Civics, Gibson and Baldwin musical instruments, Levi’s clothing and Dell DJ Dipshits as possible. After that, the three wise Rockers would help Andrew write a song. Dave gave them each a DJ Diddley-Doo containing the music Andrew had created. Immediately, Marty and MiG began to prepare. JD decided to coordinate his underwear drawer. He’s been meaning to do this since the third week. MiG reprimanded him, because he wants JD to be the best Marine he can be. JD retorted, "Dude, rock lives in the holes, dude." "Dude." "Duuuude!" You can’t prepare for holes, just like you can’t prepare for the stuff missing from those holes, nor potentially what may yet again reside in those holes. I don’t know what he, nor I, was talking about.
The next morning, the site of three brand new black Honda Civics flabbergasted the three adversaries as if nobody (Dave) had told them they’d be driving their new cars to Gibson-Baldwin warehouse. Before JD got into his car, he scratched his name with his key into the paint so that he would know which one was his. He misspelled it. A musical warehouse seems like an odd place to have a collaboration session. They probably didn’t have enough room left at the mansion now that only three people are living there. It’s not easy for struggling musicians - you have to take any kind of rehearsal/collaboration space you can get. Those Gibson people are so generous.
Marty sat with Andrew first. He didn’t want to be unprepared. Andrew beamed that Marty "virtually" paralleled his own thoughts on how the song should be. It’s a good thing Marty used those holographic lyrics. The session went well as it seemed these two had been writing together for nearly an hour, until Marty questioned why all of Andrew’s new songs are about Twinkies. Andrew screamed, "GET OUT! Get out right now and get me another box!" Marty followed orders, returned with not one, but two boxes of Twinkies, and they finished the song. Andrew was stunned and praised Marty for both his preparation and delivery skills.
MiG joined Andrew next and gave him a taste of his efforts. Andrew was pleasantly surprised. He said, "I didn’t know you were James Taylor. You look taller on TV. Is that a wig?" Although Andrew gave kudos to MiG’s work, he did say that MiG likes to take the sweet road in the melodies and harmonies. To help MiG get over this hurdle, Andrew suggested he try to mix in the word "whore" into the lyrics, as "whore" has a lot of corresponding rhyming words: bore, boar, core, door, Eeyore, floor...Zorro (almost) and Twinkie. (OK, no more Twinkies, I promise). Andrew ended by lauding MiG’s strong sense of song writing identity, which is a MiG way (as irony would have it) of saying he’s good at writing shit for himself, but not us, the INXS.
Finally, an intern woke JD, who was sleeping on a Les Paul. JD entered the room and started flapping his wings. I can’t bust him for his improvisational style of preparation. I conduct my life in a similar manner. Why prepare when you can wing it? JD presented a revolutionary concept to Andrew; let’s write about love and war - it’s never been done. Beyond that, JD showed Andrew his notebook where he detailed which articles would be used in the lyrics, but demanded that "an" would only be used before a vowel and not before any "h" words, because that’s pretentious. He asked Andrew what "pretentious" means. Andrew said it means TWINKIE! (I lied.) Then he told JD that was a good start and asked what else he had. What do you mean "what else", what do you have? Me? This was your task, not mine. Why is Marty allowed to meet you half way and I have to do ALL the work? Even though Andrew was frustrated with JD, he did admit he likes the way JD works outside the square (they’re only two dimensional in Australia, we work outside the three dimensional box here in America). But, he needs some of Marty’s discipline and a breath mint.
The Rockers returned to the mansion for their last supper, which consisted of salad, bread and wine (being the last night in the house, the "help" took most of the food home). They longed for the hot women that used to live with them. Too bad their new found fame will preclude them from having any other women ever showing interest. On to the billiard room for their final challenge. There was a single envelope hanging on the wall. Marty read the letter from the INXS, since JD has difficulty with the big words and MiG only speaks Australian. "Dear Fellas, We cannot decide who to choose. Please remove your shirts and fight to the death. The survivor will be our new singer." JD, quick as a frog, pulled out a sharpened screwdriver from the back of his collar and promptly pierced the jugular veins of the other two. He picked up the letter, which continued, "Just kidding, mates!" Oops. The INXS asked each remaining Rocker to choose one of the songs from the library of songs that had already been performed on the show. Marty proclaimed it the real test, since the song they choose will reveal their true identity to the INXS. JD asked the others for permission to perform You Can’t Always Get What You Want. Nobody gives a rat’s ass, JD. As it turns out, JD has it in his will that this song should be played at his funeral. Is he drawing a connection between the finale and his funeral? The bigger question is, do you need a will to junk your car after you die? What the hell else did he have to bequeath (prior to this show)?
MiG swayed on whether or not to perform Bohemian Rhapsody. His rationalization was that, even though he has made his living as a performer in a Queen musical, doing this song will show the INXS that he has moved on. Marty agreed, "Yeah, that’s what they’ll think, dumb shit." MiG obliviously sunk into mental grandeur at the thought of him winning the hearts of the INXS with this song. Marty snickered to himself. JD ate a Snicker’s.
I believe Marty chose Pretty Vegas as one of his possible songs. I wasn’t sure - it happened quickly and they didn’t dwell on it. They didn’t reveal which song Marty ultimately chose. I hope he does sing that song. He could use it to make a mockery of this entire show. Although, I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t do that. But if he did, he would win me over as a fan for sure, and I’d put another poster of him in my room. He could also use it, by whaling on it and making everybody forget about the JD versions of it, to impart his dominance as Alpha Rocker. Willow - pick your own finger. That’s what Billy Barty wants you to do. Then, do the disappearing pig trick.
They ended the last mansion show by showing the boys packing their bags in preparation to depart. Marty dumped his drawers into his bag. JD packed up his guitar. MiG had nothing to pack since he had ripped apart all of his clothes on stage. The three amigos stood at the deep end in the pool, reflecting upon their journey together. I was disappointed, expecting some cross-streams of micturition to froth the pool. Instead, they cut to the guys dumping the patio furniture into the pool. I guess that’s rock ‘n roll enough for the INXS. But, not for me.
They provided us some insight to the Rockers’ thoughts and feelings about being in the final three during dinner. Their discussion seemed forced, as if a producer told them to talk about it (would that really happen on a reality show?). Somehow, I get the feeling this is not how they would have interacted had the cameras not been there, and they were sitting in JD’s basement shooting the shit. Yes, I mean lying down underneath his car. I think it would have gone more like this:
Marty: I can’t believe you live here.
JD: It’s not so bad.
MiG: Why can’t we go upstairs into the front seat?
JD: My mom is entertaining a friend.
Marty: I thought being in the final three would be a little more glamorous than lying here in the street underneath your car.
MiG: There is a rat gnawing on my foot. But, it’s OK, he must be hungry.
JD: You guys want to try to make sparks with rocks on the gas tank?
MiG: Somebody is peeing down the curb.
JD: My mom must be finished. Let’s go upstairs.
Marty declared that this is a big deal, but he was more concerned with the fact that there were no more chicks in the house. This man has priorities. MiG feels he cheated the system to have survived this long. No, MiG, you played right into the system - the system of garnering foreign ratings. You are nothing but a marble in the Ker-Plunk of international marketing. JD is lying like a lamb in the weeds hoping to pounce on the lion that is INXS (he’s never been very good at metaphors). Marty feigns concern that MiG might actually pose a threat. Maybe in a pose off, but not in this competition.
OK, who left the front door unlocked? How the hell did Dave get in here again? "I’ve been living in Deanna’s room sniffing her sheets since she left." Dave announced to them that they will be challenged in a new clinic - the Infomercial Clinic, in which the goal would be for them to sell as many Honda Civics, Gibson and Baldwin musical instruments, Levi’s clothing and Dell DJ Dipshits as possible. After that, the three wise Rockers would help Andrew write a song. Dave gave them each a DJ Diddley-Doo containing the music Andrew had created. Immediately, Marty and MiG began to prepare. JD decided to coordinate his underwear drawer. He’s been meaning to do this since the third week. MiG reprimanded him, because he wants JD to be the best Marine he can be. JD retorted, "Dude, rock lives in the holes, dude." "Dude." "Duuuude!" You can’t prepare for holes, just like you can’t prepare for the stuff missing from those holes, nor potentially what may yet again reside in those holes. I don’t know what he, nor I, was talking about.
The next morning, the site of three brand new black Honda Civics flabbergasted the three adversaries as if nobody (Dave) had told them they’d be driving their new cars to Gibson-Baldwin warehouse. Before JD got into his car, he scratched his name with his key into the paint so that he would know which one was his. He misspelled it. A musical warehouse seems like an odd place to have a collaboration session. They probably didn’t have enough room left at the mansion now that only three people are living there. It’s not easy for struggling musicians - you have to take any kind of rehearsal/collaboration space you can get. Those Gibson people are so generous.
Marty sat with Andrew first. He didn’t want to be unprepared. Andrew beamed that Marty "virtually" paralleled his own thoughts on how the song should be. It’s a good thing Marty used those holographic lyrics. The session went well as it seemed these two had been writing together for nearly an hour, until Marty questioned why all of Andrew’s new songs are about Twinkies. Andrew screamed, "GET OUT! Get out right now and get me another box!" Marty followed orders, returned with not one, but two boxes of Twinkies, and they finished the song. Andrew was stunned and praised Marty for both his preparation and delivery skills.
MiG joined Andrew next and gave him a taste of his efforts. Andrew was pleasantly surprised. He said, "I didn’t know you were James Taylor. You look taller on TV. Is that a wig?" Although Andrew gave kudos to MiG’s work, he did say that MiG likes to take the sweet road in the melodies and harmonies. To help MiG get over this hurdle, Andrew suggested he try to mix in the word "whore" into the lyrics, as "whore" has a lot of corresponding rhyming words: bore, boar, core, door, Eeyore, floor...Zorro (almost) and Twinkie. (OK, no more Twinkies, I promise). Andrew ended by lauding MiG’s strong sense of song writing identity, which is a MiG way (as irony would have it) of saying he’s good at writing shit for himself, but not us, the INXS.
Finally, an intern woke JD, who was sleeping on a Les Paul. JD entered the room and started flapping his wings. I can’t bust him for his improvisational style of preparation. I conduct my life in a similar manner. Why prepare when you can wing it? JD presented a revolutionary concept to Andrew; let’s write about love and war - it’s never been done. Beyond that, JD showed Andrew his notebook where he detailed which articles would be used in the lyrics, but demanded that "an" would only be used before a vowel and not before any "h" words, because that’s pretentious. He asked Andrew what "pretentious" means. Andrew said it means TWINKIE! (I lied.) Then he told JD that was a good start and asked what else he had. What do you mean "what else", what do you have? Me? This was your task, not mine. Why is Marty allowed to meet you half way and I have to do ALL the work? Even though Andrew was frustrated with JD, he did admit he likes the way JD works outside the square (they’re only two dimensional in Australia, we work outside the three dimensional box here in America). But, he needs some of Marty’s discipline and a breath mint.
The Rockers returned to the mansion for their last supper, which consisted of salad, bread and wine (being the last night in the house, the "help" took most of the food home). They longed for the hot women that used to live with them. Too bad their new found fame will preclude them from having any other women ever showing interest. On to the billiard room for their final challenge. There was a single envelope hanging on the wall. Marty read the letter from the INXS, since JD has difficulty with the big words and MiG only speaks Australian. "Dear Fellas, We cannot decide who to choose. Please remove your shirts and fight to the death. The survivor will be our new singer." JD, quick as a frog, pulled out a sharpened screwdriver from the back of his collar and promptly pierced the jugular veins of the other two. He picked up the letter, which continued, "Just kidding, mates!" Oops. The INXS asked each remaining Rocker to choose one of the songs from the library of songs that had already been performed on the show. Marty proclaimed it the real test, since the song they choose will reveal their true identity to the INXS. JD asked the others for permission to perform You Can’t Always Get What You Want. Nobody gives a rat’s ass, JD. As it turns out, JD has it in his will that this song should be played at his funeral. Is he drawing a connection between the finale and his funeral? The bigger question is, do you need a will to junk your car after you die? What the hell else did he have to bequeath (prior to this show)?
MiG swayed on whether or not to perform Bohemian Rhapsody. His rationalization was that, even though he has made his living as a performer in a Queen musical, doing this song will show the INXS that he has moved on. Marty agreed, "Yeah, that’s what they’ll think, dumb shit." MiG obliviously sunk into mental grandeur at the thought of him winning the hearts of the INXS with this song. Marty snickered to himself. JD ate a Snicker’s.
I believe Marty chose Pretty Vegas as one of his possible songs. I wasn’t sure - it happened quickly and they didn’t dwell on it. They didn’t reveal which song Marty ultimately chose. I hope he does sing that song. He could use it to make a mockery of this entire show. Although, I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t do that. But if he did, he would win me over as a fan for sure, and I’d put another poster of him in my room. He could also use it, by whaling on it and making everybody forget about the JD versions of it, to impart his dominance as Alpha Rocker. Willow - pick your own finger. That’s what Billy Barty wants you to do. Then, do the disappearing pig trick.
They ended the last mansion show by showing the boys packing their bags in preparation to depart. Marty dumped his drawers into his bag. JD packed up his guitar. MiG had nothing to pack since he had ripped apart all of his clothes on stage. The three amigos stood at the deep end in the pool, reflecting upon their journey together. I was disappointed, expecting some cross-streams of micturition to froth the pool. Instead, they cut to the guys dumping the patio furniture into the pool. I guess that’s rock ‘n roll enough for the INXS. But, not for me.
Saturday, September 17, 2005
Tour de Sid - Sept 17
I’ve been working more hours than Inspector #8 at Kathie Lee Gifford’s sweatshop. I also found out it’s not letting up, so I’ll be missing the mansion show again. So I went for bike ride today (Schwinn, not Harley) to clear my head and here’s what happened:
Mile 1: Already Pretty Vegas is running through my head.
It ain’t pretty…
Like Kirk, I can’t get the damn song out of my head.
Mile 5: It’s still there and starting to get annoying. I decide I’ll try to override it by singing Trees.
It’ll be you and me, up in the trees….
Mile 6: It slowly morphs back to the tune of Pretty Vegas,
It ain’t pretty, when you're sitting in the trees and waiting for answers…..
Mile 15: Pretty Vegas continues to torment me with each mile. In desperation, I look to MiG for help.
Baby, I love your way….
Mile 18: I’m on side of the road, sobbing and thinking about Carmen Electra.
Mile 19: I realize Carmen is out of my league.
Mile 20: I wonder if JD’s sister is do-able.
Mile 20.5: I remember that Mrs. F’er reads this blog and might not find that last thought as entertaining as readers that I’m not married to.
Mile 25: I decide that I’ll just get a Sharpie when I get home, write notes on my palms professing my love to Crystal Bernard, and flash them at the TV during reruns of Wings while Mrs. F’er isn’t looking.
Mile 30: It’s mid-September and 97 degrees. I’ve run out of water and Gatorade and begin questioning why I moved to Texas and why I’m still here.
Mile 35: I wonder if I had Jordis on the back of my tandem bike singing to me, how long it would take for me to get sick of it. Answer: Mile 18. I’d have to leave her roadside and trade up to a non-smoker with better aerobic capacity. I wonder if Brooke smokes and how she looks in lycra.
Mile 38: I decide that I’ll only go see the RS tour if Dana is part of it. Dehydration has clearly set in and clouded my thinking.
Mile 40: I arrive home and take a nap under my INXS sheets.
I probably won’t talk to you before the finale, so here’s the prediction. MiG is deemed not roit, leaving JD and Marty standing before the band. JD wins, but only under the condition that he stays off the INXS jet and drives to each show in his Honda Civic where he toils under the watchful eye of the Farriss Brothers. Just like Clay Aiken, Marty rides his runner up position to greater success than JD can imagine. MiG, after doing a beach party movie with Hilary Duff, fades into oblivion with Justin Guarini. And by oblivion I mean music theater in Wichita, Kansas.
Sorry about the American Idol references. I’ll try to make it up with a link to Ted Leo’s superior cover of Since You’ve Been Gone.
This week LeperPop hits the road, with Sid F’er doing a personal appearance at Larry’s Subs in Jacksonville, Florida. I’ll be happy to autograph your favorite post, even if it’s Moist Rub’s. Just print it out and bring it by with a package of Baked Lay’s (KC Masterpiece flavor). I’m not sure when I’ll be there, so just hang out and look for the guy dressed like Brooke Burke. It makes the clients a little uncomfortable, but it kept me out of the Korean War.
Mile 1: Already Pretty Vegas is running through my head.
It ain’t pretty…
Like Kirk, I can’t get the damn song out of my head.
Mile 5: It’s still there and starting to get annoying. I decide I’ll try to override it by singing Trees.
It’ll be you and me, up in the trees….
Mile 6: It slowly morphs back to the tune of Pretty Vegas,
It ain’t pretty, when you're sitting in the trees and waiting for answers…..
Mile 15: Pretty Vegas continues to torment me with each mile. In desperation, I look to MiG for help.
Baby, I love your way….
Mile 18: I’m on side of the road, sobbing and thinking about Carmen Electra.
Mile 19: I realize Carmen is out of my league.
Mile 20: I wonder if JD’s sister is do-able.
Mile 20.5: I remember that Mrs. F’er reads this blog and might not find that last thought as entertaining as readers that I’m not married to.
Mile 25: I decide that I’ll just get a Sharpie when I get home, write notes on my palms professing my love to Crystal Bernard, and flash them at the TV during reruns of Wings while Mrs. F’er isn’t looking.
Mile 30: It’s mid-September and 97 degrees. I’ve run out of water and Gatorade and begin questioning why I moved to Texas and why I’m still here.
Mile 35: I wonder if I had Jordis on the back of my tandem bike singing to me, how long it would take for me to get sick of it. Answer: Mile 18. I’d have to leave her roadside and trade up to a non-smoker with better aerobic capacity. I wonder if Brooke smokes and how she looks in lycra.
Mile 38: I decide that I’ll only go see the RS tour if Dana is part of it. Dehydration has clearly set in and clouded my thinking.
Mile 40: I arrive home and take a nap under my INXS sheets.
I probably won’t talk to you before the finale, so here’s the prediction. MiG is deemed not roit, leaving JD and Marty standing before the band. JD wins, but only under the condition that he stays off the INXS jet and drives to each show in his Honda Civic where he toils under the watchful eye of the Farriss Brothers. Just like Clay Aiken, Marty rides his runner up position to greater success than JD can imagine. MiG, after doing a beach party movie with Hilary Duff, fades into oblivion with Justin Guarini. And by oblivion I mean music theater in Wichita, Kansas.
Sorry about the American Idol references. I’ll try to make it up with a link to Ted Leo’s superior cover of Since You’ve Been Gone.
This week LeperPop hits the road, with Sid F’er doing a personal appearance at Larry’s Subs in Jacksonville, Florida. I’ll be happy to autograph your favorite post, even if it’s Moist Rub’s. Just print it out and bring it by with a package of Baked Lay’s (KC Masterpiece flavor). I’m not sure when I’ll be there, so just hang out and look for the guy dressed like Brooke Burke. It makes the clients a little uncomfortable, but it kept me out of the Korean War.
Thursday, September 15, 2005
Rock Star - Sept 14 Moist Rub
Tonight was the final elimination episode. Next week, nobody will be eliminated. One will be crowned the new INXS. The other two will be eliminated.
Standard operating show procedures of late dictate two encores. The popular vote chose Marty. When announced, Marty had to be corralled, just like everybody else who has been chosen to encore first in the two-encore world - you’d think they’d all have it figured out by now - as he started for the stage. To his, and the others’ defense, I know they’re hopped up with adrenaline up there, so it’s understandable. But I still have to roast them for it. It’s my dooty. To no one’s surprise, there was to be another pre-encore. But who would pick the performer? That was our surprise tonight. Sage Dave would show us the way. He recapped: the encore performer picked one week, the INXS picked one week, Dave picked one week, the Bat-puter picked one week and Anson Williams picked one week. Could there possibly be any pickers left? I mean, Anson "Potsie" Williams is pretty much bottom of the barrel. Who could be left? That’s right, the fat old guy in the plaid shirt. And the people around him - the audience! They’ve worked so hard cheering on cue this summer, clapping to the bone. It was a salty revenge. By applause, the crowed chose JD, because the world has not heard Pretty Vegas enough. Are there any other worlds I can go to?
JD subjected his song to the acoustic litmus test. It didn’t pass. With only Rafael and the other guitar guy to support him, JD resorted to crunching his nuts in a waffle iron to dab his performance with moments of castrato. I noticed JD has a little Charlie Chaplin in him on stage. Maybe it’s the duck feet. Sadly, this song may be on the promotional train to hitsville, so this won’t be the last time I’ll have to suffer it. It ain’t pretty after the show. Nor during.
Marty followed JD by extending the audience more influence with the direction of the show. He could sing Trees acoustically or sing it electrifyingly. If they chose electric, he would also sacrifice his blue Gibson cut out geetar. Naturally, the audience chose destruction, and Marty obliged. By "natrually" I mean "no shit". After the taping, Mark Burnett fired the director and hired the audience, since they’ve done such a fine job. And, they work for free. Eventually, Marty did Trees again, and everybody rejoiced. He hugged Brooke and told her it was from me.
I like to people watch. More specifically, I like to see if I can spot rock ‘n rollers driving on the highway. It used to be very difficult. Rockers would drive all different kinds of cars; from high end makes like Ferrari and Lamborghini to refabbed classics like T-Birds and Mustangs and all sorts of rad rides in between. Nowadays, it’s no fun, since all I have to do is look for a Honda Civic to know that a famous rock star is in my midst. Nothing says ROCK AND ROLL like the enigmatic and chic Honda Civic. This is the car the final three Rockers will be given after tonight’s show as a reward. What’s the matter - they could find any deals on some used Vegas? How about a nice family truckster? They could have at least given them each a Ridgeline. The Honda Civic suggests reliability and responsibility, not the hard driving edge we want to feel from our rock heros. If nothing else, they shouldn’t have any car trouble on the way to the gig.
Back at the mansion, the remaining rockers reveled with a rightful repast of beer nuts, brisket and borsht after the performance show. Or maybe it was sushi. Nothing fun happened there. MiG babbled about god knows what. Suzie beat MiG to the punch to request a group hug. Then they all cuddled up on the couch to watch the third season of Laverne and Shirley on dvd.
After some uninformative and banal discussion between the Rockers and the Dave/INXS, we found out that Suzie was the first elimatee. Her INXS challenge was Suicide Blonde. Yeah, the ominous implication in the title is obvious. Say no more. As usual, she gave a solid performance - even sassed it up a bit. Although, I saw glimpses of Joan Rivers in her face at times. Maybe it was her hair do that did it. My therapist will hear about this tomorrow. He won’t like it. I’ve come so far. Garry asked her what this experience has taught her. She replied, "Calculus and some ancient Peruvian customs". Andrew questioned whether Peru has been around long enough to have "ancient" customs, proposing they may merely be "historical". Suzie qualified her statement by claiming relevance to the life of fruit fly. Kirk said, "Why is everybody looking at me?" Suzie also claimed that she now has belief in her talent. And she believes that children are our future. And she believes in Father Christmas.
Next, the INXS threw JD to the lions arming him only with By My Side. He sang it well, except his guttural extensions on some syllables were annoying. If he could learn to rid our lives of that, he might not be so bad. He brought out the waffle iron again at the end of the song. I guess he had one shard of nut that wasn’t crushed yet. JD told us he learned that he was focused on becoming a member of the INXS but that it’s important to play well with others, too. He used the word peripheral. I think it was left on Brooke’s Teleprompter and he said it by mistake. Eddie Vedder sang he can’t find a better man.
Finally, we had some suspense swill to sit in for a moment. Who was the last member of the bottom three, Brooke? She said Marty’s name first, and he fell for it. Silly, rabbit, the bottom three is for MiG. Of course it was MiG. When he realized he was guaranteed a spot in the finale, Marty flipped the bird to everyone, jumped in his brand new Civic, drove off the stage and crashed onto the audience floor. Embarrassed, he slouched in his seat and hid in the car until the end of the show. Either that or he had a brain hemorrhage.
What You Need is what MiG needed to perform. Did you see the microphone flip he did between hands tonight? I referred to it yesterday. He did it a number of times tonight. I do that with my beer bottles while I'm sitting at the bar. MiG and I are cut from the same mold. Except, he got the inside of the mold and I got the outside. MiG seemed like he was pushing too hard to keep up with the funk. That’s how you get hemorrhoids. Don’t ever push too hard. This caused his voice to crack multiple times. The INXS praised him, but I thought he fell short. There was energy in the performance, but the House Band generated it, not MiGgy-Poo. Toward the end of the song, MiG struggled to rip his shirt. I’m sure he intended to rip it straight through, but he couldn’t do it. It reminded me of PeeWee Herman trying to lift the five pound weights over his head in PeeWee’s Big Adventure (everybody I know has a big but). The INXS asked MiG to compare and contrast the Mongolian invasion of China of 1279 with the increased use of weathervanes by Nebraskan farmers in the 1950's. MiG said after faking his way for weeks through trial and error and glazing the voters with putrid sugary man goo, he stopped doubting himself. "What about the Mongolians?" Tim asked him. "What about the Nebraskan farmers?" MiG replied. Quite right, mate. Good on ya.
Drizzle, Drazzle, Drozzle, Drome, Time for this one to come home. They’re talking about you, Suzie. You’re the only one that comes close to resembling Tooter Turtle. Funny, she didn’t cry as much as she did when others bit it. Maybe her tear ducts had dried up from over use. I think she knew it was imminent. Forty times in the bottom three is not a good track record. What could the INXS do? They are too polite to shower with a woman. MiG, JD and Marty weeped at the thought of the exodus of the last remnants of poon-tang in the mansion. I wonder which one of them will get to be the Lucky Pierre in the party train. Suzie was gracious and full of love for everybody. I will miss her. Dave didn’t say anything about him performing with Suzie in the future, but to show her how upset he was, he super glued his hand to the top of his head.
Standard operating show procedures of late dictate two encores. The popular vote chose Marty. When announced, Marty had to be corralled, just like everybody else who has been chosen to encore first in the two-encore world - you’d think they’d all have it figured out by now - as he started for the stage. To his, and the others’ defense, I know they’re hopped up with adrenaline up there, so it’s understandable. But I still have to roast them for it. It’s my dooty. To no one’s surprise, there was to be another pre-encore. But who would pick the performer? That was our surprise tonight. Sage Dave would show us the way. He recapped: the encore performer picked one week, the INXS picked one week, Dave picked one week, the Bat-puter picked one week and Anson Williams picked one week. Could there possibly be any pickers left? I mean, Anson "Potsie" Williams is pretty much bottom of the barrel. Who could be left? That’s right, the fat old guy in the plaid shirt. And the people around him - the audience! They’ve worked so hard cheering on cue this summer, clapping to the bone. It was a salty revenge. By applause, the crowed chose JD, because the world has not heard Pretty Vegas enough. Are there any other worlds I can go to?
JD subjected his song to the acoustic litmus test. It didn’t pass. With only Rafael and the other guitar guy to support him, JD resorted to crunching his nuts in a waffle iron to dab his performance with moments of castrato. I noticed JD has a little Charlie Chaplin in him on stage. Maybe it’s the duck feet. Sadly, this song may be on the promotional train to hitsville, so this won’t be the last time I’ll have to suffer it. It ain’t pretty after the show. Nor during.
Marty followed JD by extending the audience more influence with the direction of the show. He could sing Trees acoustically or sing it electrifyingly. If they chose electric, he would also sacrifice his blue Gibson cut out geetar. Naturally, the audience chose destruction, and Marty obliged. By "natrually" I mean "no shit". After the taping, Mark Burnett fired the director and hired the audience, since they’ve done such a fine job. And, they work for free. Eventually, Marty did Trees again, and everybody rejoiced. He hugged Brooke and told her it was from me.
I like to people watch. More specifically, I like to see if I can spot rock ‘n rollers driving on the highway. It used to be very difficult. Rockers would drive all different kinds of cars; from high end makes like Ferrari and Lamborghini to refabbed classics like T-Birds and Mustangs and all sorts of rad rides in between. Nowadays, it’s no fun, since all I have to do is look for a Honda Civic to know that a famous rock star is in my midst. Nothing says ROCK AND ROLL like the enigmatic and chic Honda Civic. This is the car the final three Rockers will be given after tonight’s show as a reward. What’s the matter - they could find any deals on some used Vegas? How about a nice family truckster? They could have at least given them each a Ridgeline. The Honda Civic suggests reliability and responsibility, not the hard driving edge we want to feel from our rock heros. If nothing else, they shouldn’t have any car trouble on the way to the gig.
Back at the mansion, the remaining rockers reveled with a rightful repast of beer nuts, brisket and borsht after the performance show. Or maybe it was sushi. Nothing fun happened there. MiG babbled about god knows what. Suzie beat MiG to the punch to request a group hug. Then they all cuddled up on the couch to watch the third season of Laverne and Shirley on dvd.
After some uninformative and banal discussion between the Rockers and the Dave/INXS, we found out that Suzie was the first elimatee. Her INXS challenge was Suicide Blonde. Yeah, the ominous implication in the title is obvious. Say no more. As usual, she gave a solid performance - even sassed it up a bit. Although, I saw glimpses of Joan Rivers in her face at times. Maybe it was her hair do that did it. My therapist will hear about this tomorrow. He won’t like it. I’ve come so far. Garry asked her what this experience has taught her. She replied, "Calculus and some ancient Peruvian customs". Andrew questioned whether Peru has been around long enough to have "ancient" customs, proposing they may merely be "historical". Suzie qualified her statement by claiming relevance to the life of fruit fly. Kirk said, "Why is everybody looking at me?" Suzie also claimed that she now has belief in her talent. And she believes that children are our future. And she believes in Father Christmas.
Next, the INXS threw JD to the lions arming him only with By My Side. He sang it well, except his guttural extensions on some syllables were annoying. If he could learn to rid our lives of that, he might not be so bad. He brought out the waffle iron again at the end of the song. I guess he had one shard of nut that wasn’t crushed yet. JD told us he learned that he was focused on becoming a member of the INXS but that it’s important to play well with others, too. He used the word peripheral. I think it was left on Brooke’s Teleprompter and he said it by mistake. Eddie Vedder sang he can’t find a better man.
Finally, we had some suspense swill to sit in for a moment. Who was the last member of the bottom three, Brooke? She said Marty’s name first, and he fell for it. Silly, rabbit, the bottom three is for MiG. Of course it was MiG. When he realized he was guaranteed a spot in the finale, Marty flipped the bird to everyone, jumped in his brand new Civic, drove off the stage and crashed onto the audience floor. Embarrassed, he slouched in his seat and hid in the car until the end of the show. Either that or he had a brain hemorrhage.
What You Need is what MiG needed to perform. Did you see the microphone flip he did between hands tonight? I referred to it yesterday. He did it a number of times tonight. I do that with my beer bottles while I'm sitting at the bar. MiG and I are cut from the same mold. Except, he got the inside of the mold and I got the outside. MiG seemed like he was pushing too hard to keep up with the funk. That’s how you get hemorrhoids. Don’t ever push too hard. This caused his voice to crack multiple times. The INXS praised him, but I thought he fell short. There was energy in the performance, but the House Band generated it, not MiGgy-Poo. Toward the end of the song, MiG struggled to rip his shirt. I’m sure he intended to rip it straight through, but he couldn’t do it. It reminded me of PeeWee Herman trying to lift the five pound weights over his head in PeeWee’s Big Adventure (everybody I know has a big but). The INXS asked MiG to compare and contrast the Mongolian invasion of China of 1279 with the increased use of weathervanes by Nebraskan farmers in the 1950's. MiG said after faking his way for weeks through trial and error and glazing the voters with putrid sugary man goo, he stopped doubting himself. "What about the Mongolians?" Tim asked him. "What about the Nebraskan farmers?" MiG replied. Quite right, mate. Good on ya.
Drizzle, Drazzle, Drozzle, Drome, Time for this one to come home. They’re talking about you, Suzie. You’re the only one that comes close to resembling Tooter Turtle. Funny, she didn’t cry as much as she did when others bit it. Maybe her tear ducts had dried up from over use. I think she knew it was imminent. Forty times in the bottom three is not a good track record. What could the INXS do? They are too polite to shower with a woman. MiG, JD and Marty weeped at the thought of the exodus of the last remnants of poon-tang in the mansion. I wonder which one of them will get to be the Lucky Pierre in the party train. Suzie was gracious and full of love for everybody. I will miss her. Dave didn’t say anything about him performing with Suzie in the future, but to show her how upset he was, he super glued his hand to the top of his head.
Wednesday, September 14, 2005
Rock Star - Sept 13 Moist Rub
Brooke had to work late at the nude barber shop, so she wrapped a razor strap around her waist and grabbed the linen curtains from the bathroom to cover up her gazebos and raced to the studio to make it to the show on time. She is a dedicated woman of the two thousand naughts.
I figured out why JD keeps with him a picture of himself as a five year old (with his baby sister). That is where he is mentally. It is the last time he has felt safe in this world. Don’t worry, JD, the INXS will make it all better. The effects of your rotten parents will torment you no more. Damn parents! All parents should not be allowed to have children. Who do they think they are? The INXS will save you. You will soon be able to rip apart that photograph and liberate yourself. The INXS will be your new parents. They will never break up and leave you fending for yourself. Or they will kick you to the curb, copyright your life and make you a slave. That's the wonderful part of life, nobody ever knows.
Since the INXS used up all of their questions for the Rockers in the Interview Clinic, Dave conducted the chat session tonight. He badgered Marty first, stating that Marty has made it pretty clear that he has control of his bowels. Marty responded by confirming his objective to cross the road halfway, being careful not to trip over the chicken with the dead baby stapled to it. "My aim is true, Elvis Costello," professed Marty. This impressed the young INXS grasshopper greatly, and they stated they have learned very much from Marty, although they have not yet been able to snatch that durned pebble from his hand. They dared not disagree, fearing Marty may eventually kick them out of their own band.
Next, Dave questioned MiG about his fortuity of having never been in the bottom three. Was it a curse or a gift? MiG suggested that it is a strong message from the voting public that Donnie Osmond is still loved and appreciated worldwide. Then, Dave toed the sexism line by asking Suzie why she is a woman. Since Suzie never had a biology class, she glossed over the subject, bringing the conversation back to the middle, affording us all the option to be people instead of chromosomal after effects.
Finally, Dave accused JD of being a big, giant pussy when his mom and sister were around. JD vehemently denied with a brusque, "Uh-uh", to which Dave replied, "You totally did, dude. You pussed out royal." I love my mommy. Kirk wished him good luck.
Dave joined the House Band on one of each of the rockers two songs. Unlike Jeremy, he was actually plugged in.
Suzie - Interstate Love Song. Interesting. During the pre-performance discussion, Suzie didn’t want to talk about gender being a factor, yet that’s all she could talk about in the taped prequel short. So, which is it, Suzie? Do you think the INXS wants to take post-show showers with a woman or not? She has no idea if donning a rod is an INXS singing requirement. No sense worrying about things you can’t control. Just to be sure, she wore a strap-on inside her pants. Suzie sang well, but didn’t have a lot of rock vibe in her voice. It didn’t work for me. Plus, this song is a boring STP song. I would rather have heard her sing Sex Type Thing (surprisingly, they didn’t ask my opinion). To help the song along, Suzie strolled the crowd. Did you see that old fat guy in the plaid shirt? I thought it was a reincarnation of my dad. How the hell did he get in there? They must be hurting for audience members. Dave had a cigarette jammed in the head of his guitar. I can’t believe he did that on national TV. Now, everybody’s gonna be doing it.
Suzie finished with What’s Up, by 4 Non Blondes. This song makes me feel warm and mushy inside and gives me hope for a peaceful and loving society. And then my neighbor tears over my lawn with his Harley, and I come crashing back into an undescribable pit of the nastiest depression you’d ever want to wallow in. This is a good song for her, and she mushified me with it. To ensure my neighbor wouldn’t ruin it for me, I shot him in the face before she started singing. Garry told Suzie she gave a world class performance and said it is too bad she is a woman. Tim commented that the two songs were stylistically contrary and she did a great job making them cohesive and he loved the way she worked the crowd and it is too bad she is a woman.
JD - Pretty Vegas. I pose, JD, what is the purpose of the megaphone? Are you using it to give the listener a sense of detachment those specific lyrics depict? Or are you emphasizing the illusion of solitude and desperation one has when sitting in the bottom of a sewer being dripped on by water too foul to entertain sunlight? Could it possibly be that you are making a statement about the multiple transformations one must go through when searching for something by using the megaphone to alter your voice during different stages of the journey of this song? Or, do you think it sounds cool and Green Day used it, too? I don’t think he knows. If you don’t know why you’re doing something, then you shouldn’t do it. Unless you’re drunk. Dave helped this song progress with some of his licks between verses, although he got in JD’s way one or two times.
JD then performed Money by Pink Floyd. I hope you are all sitting down. For, what I am about to say may stun some of you, causing your knees to buckle, dropping your head right through your glass statue of Betty White. Please, for your safety (as if anybody actually reads this crap), sit down before you read on. I think JD did well with this song. Strewing the big sack of money was a nice touch. (I said "big sack".) Yes, kissing Dave on the cheek during the song does make you gay (but not as much as the cocksucking). I’m going to leave it at that.
Marty - Trees. Unplugged with Dave Navarro. Dave looked a little bored playing this song. Marty should have let him gritch out a solo. What’s with me and solos? I like solos. Get off my back. I agree with Garry that it’s a boon if a song can sustain itself in both the acoustic and the electric worlds. This song does. After seeing two shots of Kirk singing along with the song, I can see why they didn’t give him the lead singing gig, unless they wanted to open up for The Wiggles. I liked this version better than the electric version last week, but not as much as the Lovehammers version.
After Marty's bailiff told Dave he was allowed to sit back down, Marty performed Creep by Radiohead. All I could think about during the beginning of this song is, "Holy shit, Marty’s on the TV!" It just kinda hit me. When I composed myself, I sat back an enjoyed. Marty’s voice has grown so much in the past few months. The vocal coach workouts are paying off. His vocals captivated me with frailty, power, tenderness, pain, desperation, rage, remorse, indifference and just a tad of ennui. My son thought the muted guitar shanks during the verse were cool. Yeah, Beave, they were. If the INXS had asked Marty to sing this 6 weeks ago, I don’t think he would have pulled it off the way he did tonight, and they would have brought out the reamer pole in their critique. Instead, the INXS praised his dynamic set and asked if they could have a sleep over in his mansion room tonight.
MiG - Paint It Black. MiG strategically began the song with a quiet, slow tempo to allow the progression of his arrangement illustrate his transformation from sweet, fluff-ridden, gush-bag to the dark lord of rock. He didn’t quite get there, as he meandered in the dark realms with the lantern partially lit, but I enjoyed it anyway. I’ve heard this song so much, his performance actually reminded me what a cool song it is. And it didn’t help that he skipped a bit on stage. There is no skipping in rock ‘n roll. It’s one of the first things they teach you. MiG’s voice failed him at the end with a misshaped screech, but it didn’t bother me too much. It was like a holding penalty in football. It can be called on every play, but it’s not. Actually, it’s not like that at all.
MiG finished us off with A Kiss From a Rose by Seal. MiG should see if Seal needs a new lead singer. But, what will I do? You can be the tambourine guy, Seal. The INXS enjoyed MiG’s show, as well. Garry Beers was giving MiG the death ray (zzzz zzzz) during his songs so he would end up in the bottom three, but it didn’t work. Garry’s intentions were good, hoping to see MiG sing an INXS tune. Kirk was happy with MiG’s arrangements. Overall, Kirk seemed especially giddy tonight. Maybe he found out that another meaning for "gay" was happy. One nuance - MiG did a quick little flip of the microphone from his left hand to his right. You can’t teach that kind of dexterity. Then, Dave wrecked everything by asking MiG to get naked again.
The early voting told us that Marty’s fans have faster computers than the rest of the Rockers’ fans. JD was next, with Suzie trailing him and MiG sitting content waiting for the voting to start in the far east and Australia. Who will end up in the bottom three? Who will remain as the sole survivor, guaranteed a chance at next week’s finale? Will we have to be tortured with a mortifying fourth presentation of Pretty Vegas? Will Suzie sport a moustache to try to fool the INXS? Will Brooke wear only pieces of electrical tape over her naughties tomorrow? Will that fat old guy in plaid be in the audience again? Who will be sent packing tomorrow? What the hell are we gonna watch when this show is over? Will I finally have time to clean my house and feed the kids? Are they even still alive? What were their names again? Are you sure they’re mine, I thought they’d be taller by now? So many questions will be answered tomorrow.
I figured out why JD keeps with him a picture of himself as a five year old (with his baby sister). That is where he is mentally. It is the last time he has felt safe in this world. Don’t worry, JD, the INXS will make it all better. The effects of your rotten parents will torment you no more. Damn parents! All parents should not be allowed to have children. Who do they think they are? The INXS will save you. You will soon be able to rip apart that photograph and liberate yourself. The INXS will be your new parents. They will never break up and leave you fending for yourself. Or they will kick you to the curb, copyright your life and make you a slave. That's the wonderful part of life, nobody ever knows.
Since the INXS used up all of their questions for the Rockers in the Interview Clinic, Dave conducted the chat session tonight. He badgered Marty first, stating that Marty has made it pretty clear that he has control of his bowels. Marty responded by confirming his objective to cross the road halfway, being careful not to trip over the chicken with the dead baby stapled to it. "My aim is true, Elvis Costello," professed Marty. This impressed the young INXS grasshopper greatly, and they stated they have learned very much from Marty, although they have not yet been able to snatch that durned pebble from his hand. They dared not disagree, fearing Marty may eventually kick them out of their own band.
Next, Dave questioned MiG about his fortuity of having never been in the bottom three. Was it a curse or a gift? MiG suggested that it is a strong message from the voting public that Donnie Osmond is still loved and appreciated worldwide. Then, Dave toed the sexism line by asking Suzie why she is a woman. Since Suzie never had a biology class, she glossed over the subject, bringing the conversation back to the middle, affording us all the option to be people instead of chromosomal after effects.
Finally, Dave accused JD of being a big, giant pussy when his mom and sister were around. JD vehemently denied with a brusque, "Uh-uh", to which Dave replied, "You totally did, dude. You pussed out royal." I love my mommy. Kirk wished him good luck.
Dave joined the House Band on one of each of the rockers two songs. Unlike Jeremy, he was actually plugged in.
Suzie - Interstate Love Song. Interesting. During the pre-performance discussion, Suzie didn’t want to talk about gender being a factor, yet that’s all she could talk about in the taped prequel short. So, which is it, Suzie? Do you think the INXS wants to take post-show showers with a woman or not? She has no idea if donning a rod is an INXS singing requirement. No sense worrying about things you can’t control. Just to be sure, she wore a strap-on inside her pants. Suzie sang well, but didn’t have a lot of rock vibe in her voice. It didn’t work for me. Plus, this song is a boring STP song. I would rather have heard her sing Sex Type Thing (surprisingly, they didn’t ask my opinion). To help the song along, Suzie strolled the crowd. Did you see that old fat guy in the plaid shirt? I thought it was a reincarnation of my dad. How the hell did he get in there? They must be hurting for audience members. Dave had a cigarette jammed in the head of his guitar. I can’t believe he did that on national TV. Now, everybody’s gonna be doing it.
Suzie finished with What’s Up, by 4 Non Blondes. This song makes me feel warm and mushy inside and gives me hope for a peaceful and loving society. And then my neighbor tears over my lawn with his Harley, and I come crashing back into an undescribable pit of the nastiest depression you’d ever want to wallow in. This is a good song for her, and she mushified me with it. To ensure my neighbor wouldn’t ruin it for me, I shot him in the face before she started singing. Garry told Suzie she gave a world class performance and said it is too bad she is a woman. Tim commented that the two songs were stylistically contrary and she did a great job making them cohesive and he loved the way she worked the crowd and it is too bad she is a woman.
JD - Pretty Vegas. I pose, JD, what is the purpose of the megaphone? Are you using it to give the listener a sense of detachment those specific lyrics depict? Or are you emphasizing the illusion of solitude and desperation one has when sitting in the bottom of a sewer being dripped on by water too foul to entertain sunlight? Could it possibly be that you are making a statement about the multiple transformations one must go through when searching for something by using the megaphone to alter your voice during different stages of the journey of this song? Or, do you think it sounds cool and Green Day used it, too? I don’t think he knows. If you don’t know why you’re doing something, then you shouldn’t do it. Unless you’re drunk. Dave helped this song progress with some of his licks between verses, although he got in JD’s way one or two times.
JD then performed Money by Pink Floyd. I hope you are all sitting down. For, what I am about to say may stun some of you, causing your knees to buckle, dropping your head right through your glass statue of Betty White. Please, for your safety (as if anybody actually reads this crap), sit down before you read on. I think JD did well with this song. Strewing the big sack of money was a nice touch. (I said "big sack".) Yes, kissing Dave on the cheek during the song does make you gay (but not as much as the cocksucking). I’m going to leave it at that.
Marty - Trees. Unplugged with Dave Navarro. Dave looked a little bored playing this song. Marty should have let him gritch out a solo. What’s with me and solos? I like solos. Get off my back. I agree with Garry that it’s a boon if a song can sustain itself in both the acoustic and the electric worlds. This song does. After seeing two shots of Kirk singing along with the song, I can see why they didn’t give him the lead singing gig, unless they wanted to open up for The Wiggles. I liked this version better than the electric version last week, but not as much as the Lovehammers version.
After Marty's bailiff told Dave he was allowed to sit back down, Marty performed Creep by Radiohead. All I could think about during the beginning of this song is, "Holy shit, Marty’s on the TV!" It just kinda hit me. When I composed myself, I sat back an enjoyed. Marty’s voice has grown so much in the past few months. The vocal coach workouts are paying off. His vocals captivated me with frailty, power, tenderness, pain, desperation, rage, remorse, indifference and just a tad of ennui. My son thought the muted guitar shanks during the verse were cool. Yeah, Beave, they were. If the INXS had asked Marty to sing this 6 weeks ago, I don’t think he would have pulled it off the way he did tonight, and they would have brought out the reamer pole in their critique. Instead, the INXS praised his dynamic set and asked if they could have a sleep over in his mansion room tonight.
MiG - Paint It Black. MiG strategically began the song with a quiet, slow tempo to allow the progression of his arrangement illustrate his transformation from sweet, fluff-ridden, gush-bag to the dark lord of rock. He didn’t quite get there, as he meandered in the dark realms with the lantern partially lit, but I enjoyed it anyway. I’ve heard this song so much, his performance actually reminded me what a cool song it is. And it didn’t help that he skipped a bit on stage. There is no skipping in rock ‘n roll. It’s one of the first things they teach you. MiG’s voice failed him at the end with a misshaped screech, but it didn’t bother me too much. It was like a holding penalty in football. It can be called on every play, but it’s not. Actually, it’s not like that at all.
MiG finished us off with A Kiss From a Rose by Seal. MiG should see if Seal needs a new lead singer. But, what will I do? You can be the tambourine guy, Seal. The INXS enjoyed MiG’s show, as well. Garry Beers was giving MiG the death ray (zzzz zzzz) during his songs so he would end up in the bottom three, but it didn’t work. Garry’s intentions were good, hoping to see MiG sing an INXS tune. Kirk was happy with MiG’s arrangements. Overall, Kirk seemed especially giddy tonight. Maybe he found out that another meaning for "gay" was happy. One nuance - MiG did a quick little flip of the microphone from his left hand to his right. You can’t teach that kind of dexterity. Then, Dave wrecked everything by asking MiG to get naked again.
The early voting told us that Marty’s fans have faster computers than the rest of the Rockers’ fans. JD was next, with Suzie trailing him and MiG sitting content waiting for the voting to start in the far east and Australia. Who will end up in the bottom three? Who will remain as the sole survivor, guaranteed a chance at next week’s finale? Will we have to be tortured with a mortifying fourth presentation of Pretty Vegas? Will Suzie sport a moustache to try to fool the INXS? Will Brooke wear only pieces of electrical tape over her naughties tomorrow? Will that fat old guy in plaid be in the audience again? Who will be sent packing tomorrow? What the hell are we gonna watch when this show is over? Will I finally have time to clean my house and feed the kids? Are they even still alive? What were their names again? Are you sure they’re mine, I thought they’d be taller by now? So many questions will be answered tomorrow.
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
Rock Star - Sept 13 Sid
Remember the XFL… that football league that the WWF tried to market to football fans that didn’t like the big names and attempts at civility that the NFL offered? Well, it got worse ratings than the RS mansion show and the games eventually got relegated to the Home Shopping Network where the league auctioned off equipment and other assets between plays since they wouldn’t be needing it the following year. It appears that Brooke picked up some XFL cheerleader gear after the league folded and shared part of that collection this evening. Which is good since she feigns excitement as well as Pat Summerall preparing for a root canal. (Why do seemingly unrelated results for Lady Bird Johnson show up when you google Pat Summerall? I’d sell your Google shares if that’s the kind of crap they’re going to offer up.)
Seeing as I missed the mansion show, I enjoyed the recap. Here’s what I got out of it – if they pick JD, they will spend countless, captive hours on the tour bus with JD showing his family photo albums. If they choose MiG, they can get a long-term Celine Dion type deal to perform in the Australian and the Filipino versions of Vegas and not have to worry about that international tour crap. Marty will just handle everything if they just give him a set of keys to the jet. And they should only pick Suzie if she’s the best man for the job and not just because they want to see boobies in their dressing room.
Brooke: “Hey, here’s a CD that you should buy. Or not. It probably sucks. I can’t wait for this gig to be up. Anybody want this CD? Here, take it. Woo-woo.”
Suzie:
Interstate Love Song – Not really fair giving her this song unless the envelope included some black tar heroin and a dirty needle. It didn’t and this song didn’t work for me. Stop the running into the crowd. You’re performing and are supposed to stay on the stage and not be flirting with old guys wearing Dockers shirts. If you want to do that, just stop by my office and I’ll set you up. Her stage antics reminded me of that little guy Mario in Donkey Kong. I wanted to compare her to a character in Grand Theft Auto to not show my age, but Sid is too old and the punks at GameStop won’t sell him a copy. I was also distracted by the fact that she looked like she just got off of work slicing gyro meat off the skewers at one of them trendy Brazilian joints. And it also looked like Dave had just eaten there and stuffed his pants so full of lamb chops for after the show that he was unable to fit his Verizon VCast phone in his pocket.
What’s Up – I was coerced into going to see James Taylor at one of those giant outdoor amphitheaters. Not only would it suck, but it would suck worse because we got there way late and were way up top of the lawn section. It could have been Gilbert Gottfried up there and I wouldn’t have known any better. But as luck has it, Mr. Taylor lets all these Greenpeace type organizations set up shop outside his show and I found it far more entertaining taunting the people at the booths as they tried to recruit me. So what’s the point? There’s plenty people that are aware of what’s going on in the world, so please don’t bug me about it while I’m trying to enjoy a rock n’ roll show. And that goes for you, too, Bono. And especially you, Suzie. When she did get around to singing, I decided $12 at the Gypsy Tea Room might be worth it, but no way I’m shelling out $40 for a seat at the American Airlines Center. Oh, and stop collapsing after every goddam song like you just gave birth.
JD:
Pretty Vegas: JD presented the megaphone he decorated during the rockers arts and crafts clinic. If the whole OBINXS thing doesn’t work out, I believe Martha Stewart’s show is starting up soon. However, I have to admit, like Kirk, that the stupid song is somewhat infectious, probably not unlike JD himself. Who was the dork that walked up to the stage and shook his hand during the song? That was very unmanly on the dork’s part, and very un-rocker like for JD to acknowledge him. I hope they both washed their hands.
Money: His intro was inane and confusing. Yes, we all like money, don’t have enough of it, and would like some more. Pink Floyd doesn’t really seem to inspire campfire sing-a-longs unless you’re parents forgot to pack the Prozac, and I’m not sure what the hell he meant by saying he was going to fake it. Once we got past that deconstruction zone, I thought he did a nice job although he failed to make Garry cry. The chick on sax was a nice touch, but they should have gotten Deanna Bogart instead.
Marty:
Trees - I thought he treated this song like he was at a wedding. A wedding where your buddy is about to get married to a royal bitch and you want to scream at him, but you really can’t so you suck it up and behave through the ceremony like a good little soldier. In return, the groom fulfills the promise of free Jack Daniels at the reception where you can drink and plunder to your heart’s content. I thought the performance showed restraint in the beginning and ended with some retro screams. Was very symbolic of his repeat offer to meet them halfway.
More about weddings. Daytime receptions suck. Don’t do it and expect people to fight for their right to party. And you don’t need a battalion of attendants no matter what time you have it. To me, the acoustic version of this song represented a daytime reception and Mr. Navarro was the unneeded attendant. Plug in and put Dave out and you’re back in the Tree business.
Creep – Welcome to VH1 Storytellers. Every song is about a guy or a girl either loving or not being loved by another guy or girl, except for Kill the Poor by the Dead Kennedys, so let’s just get on with it. I was never cool enough to like Radiohead much, except for that one song I can’t think of right now, but I thought it was a good performance. I found it somewhat Cirque du Soleil. After he gets too old to be jumping off drum risers, he might have a career as ringmaster there. I liked the hearty laugh at the end – it looks like he’s enjoying this now and not stressing as much as the others.
MiG:
Paint it Black – I’m not really good at listening to or interpreting lyrics but unless this song is about a gay interior designer throwing a tantrum, I’m not sure MiG captured the true spirit of the song.
Kiss From a Rose – Note to OBINXS: MiG’s your man if you just want to chill out and make the transition to soundtracks. Hey, it worked for Bryan Adams. I found JD’s interpretive dance in the rocker den during this song more entertaining than MiG. Not a good sign.
Early results: Marty, JD, Suzie, MiG
So who goes? Fuck if I know. I was going to say Marty, because I still don’t think he’s roit for their band and they might be more frightened of Marty’s vision than of JD’s antagonism. But I get the impression that JD and Marty have too great a fan base to dismiss them and seem to be the only two with the stage presence to front this band. I don’t think they’ll have the heart to let MiG leave if he makes his first trip to the bottom three. Instinct tells me that they want to have a chick in the finale, but I really don’t think anyone cares. Suzie goes. While Dave’s guitar gently weeps.
Seeing as I missed the mansion show, I enjoyed the recap. Here’s what I got out of it – if they pick JD, they will spend countless, captive hours on the tour bus with JD showing his family photo albums. If they choose MiG, they can get a long-term Celine Dion type deal to perform in the Australian and the Filipino versions of Vegas and not have to worry about that international tour crap. Marty will just handle everything if they just give him a set of keys to the jet. And they should only pick Suzie if she’s the best man for the job and not just because they want to see boobies in their dressing room.
Brooke: “Hey, here’s a CD that you should buy. Or not. It probably sucks. I can’t wait for this gig to be up. Anybody want this CD? Here, take it. Woo-woo.”
Suzie:
Interstate Love Song – Not really fair giving her this song unless the envelope included some black tar heroin and a dirty needle. It didn’t and this song didn’t work for me. Stop the running into the crowd. You’re performing and are supposed to stay on the stage and not be flirting with old guys wearing Dockers shirts. If you want to do that, just stop by my office and I’ll set you up. Her stage antics reminded me of that little guy Mario in Donkey Kong. I wanted to compare her to a character in Grand Theft Auto to not show my age, but Sid is too old and the punks at GameStop won’t sell him a copy. I was also distracted by the fact that she looked like she just got off of work slicing gyro meat off the skewers at one of them trendy Brazilian joints. And it also looked like Dave had just eaten there and stuffed his pants so full of lamb chops for after the show that he was unable to fit his Verizon VCast phone in his pocket.
What’s Up – I was coerced into going to see James Taylor at one of those giant outdoor amphitheaters. Not only would it suck, but it would suck worse because we got there way late and were way up top of the lawn section. It could have been Gilbert Gottfried up there and I wouldn’t have known any better. But as luck has it, Mr. Taylor lets all these Greenpeace type organizations set up shop outside his show and I found it far more entertaining taunting the people at the booths as they tried to recruit me. So what’s the point? There’s plenty people that are aware of what’s going on in the world, so please don’t bug me about it while I’m trying to enjoy a rock n’ roll show. And that goes for you, too, Bono. And especially you, Suzie. When she did get around to singing, I decided $12 at the Gypsy Tea Room might be worth it, but no way I’m shelling out $40 for a seat at the American Airlines Center. Oh, and stop collapsing after every goddam song like you just gave birth.
JD:
Pretty Vegas: JD presented the megaphone he decorated during the rockers arts and crafts clinic. If the whole OBINXS thing doesn’t work out, I believe Martha Stewart’s show is starting up soon. However, I have to admit, like Kirk, that the stupid song is somewhat infectious, probably not unlike JD himself. Who was the dork that walked up to the stage and shook his hand during the song? That was very unmanly on the dork’s part, and very un-rocker like for JD to acknowledge him. I hope they both washed their hands.
Money: His intro was inane and confusing. Yes, we all like money, don’t have enough of it, and would like some more. Pink Floyd doesn’t really seem to inspire campfire sing-a-longs unless you’re parents forgot to pack the Prozac, and I’m not sure what the hell he meant by saying he was going to fake it. Once we got past that deconstruction zone, I thought he did a nice job although he failed to make Garry cry. The chick on sax was a nice touch, but they should have gotten Deanna Bogart instead.
Marty:
Trees - I thought he treated this song like he was at a wedding. A wedding where your buddy is about to get married to a royal bitch and you want to scream at him, but you really can’t so you suck it up and behave through the ceremony like a good little soldier. In return, the groom fulfills the promise of free Jack Daniels at the reception where you can drink and plunder to your heart’s content. I thought the performance showed restraint in the beginning and ended with some retro screams. Was very symbolic of his repeat offer to meet them halfway.
More about weddings. Daytime receptions suck. Don’t do it and expect people to fight for their right to party. And you don’t need a battalion of attendants no matter what time you have it. To me, the acoustic version of this song represented a daytime reception and Mr. Navarro was the unneeded attendant. Plug in and put Dave out and you’re back in the Tree business.
Creep – Welcome to VH1 Storytellers. Every song is about a guy or a girl either loving or not being loved by another guy or girl, except for Kill the Poor by the Dead Kennedys, so let’s just get on with it. I was never cool enough to like Radiohead much, except for that one song I can’t think of right now, but I thought it was a good performance. I found it somewhat Cirque du Soleil. After he gets too old to be jumping off drum risers, he might have a career as ringmaster there. I liked the hearty laugh at the end – it looks like he’s enjoying this now and not stressing as much as the others.
MiG:
Paint it Black – I’m not really good at listening to or interpreting lyrics but unless this song is about a gay interior designer throwing a tantrum, I’m not sure MiG captured the true spirit of the song.
Kiss From a Rose – Note to OBINXS: MiG’s your man if you just want to chill out and make the transition to soundtracks. Hey, it worked for Bryan Adams. I found JD’s interpretive dance in the rocker den during this song more entertaining than MiG. Not a good sign.
Early results: Marty, JD, Suzie, MiG
So who goes? Fuck if I know. I was going to say Marty, because I still don’t think he’s roit for their band and they might be more frightened of Marty’s vision than of JD’s antagonism. But I get the impression that JD and Marty have too great a fan base to dismiss them and seem to be the only two with the stage presence to front this band. I don’t think they’ll have the heart to let MiG leave if he makes his first trip to the bottom three. Instinct tells me that they want to have a chick in the finale, but I really don’t think anyone cares. Suzie goes. While Dave’s guitar gently weeps.
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