This is my last blog post in my 30s

Yep. Just a few hours left before the odometer rolls over again. At this point, I'm glad to be getting it over with. Maybe tomorrow I can dispense with the "Oh man ... where am I? What the hell am I doing?" crap I've been obsessed with for the last year.

I know that if I look back at my 30s, I can find plenty of positive things about them, things to be happy about. Such as, I maintained and strengthened some old friendships, I hung onto the same job for the whole decade, and I traveled to some interesting places for the first time – New York, New England, New Mexico, Colorado, Southern California, Canada. Not to mention that I moved to a big new city and learned to do a halfway decent job of getting by on my own there.

And I also know that if I look back at my 20s – which I generally regard as my peak years – I can find a lot to feel crummy about. I floundered as a lawyer for a while after getting out of school and bailed on that career after about a year. I got divorced. And I was broke most of the time. Especially that last one. I can definitely say one thing for sure about my 30s that I can’t say about my 20s – I have been solvent. Not rich, but solvent.

Sure, I have a lot of the same furniture I had when I was 20, and I seem to be kind of stalled somewhere in the mid-1990s in a lot of ways. Plus, I tend toward bitterness, self-loathing, and social withdrawal. But at least I ain’t broke!

Let’s see, what else? During my 30s, I co-authored two books, I had several of my zines displayed in a couple of gallery shows in Chicago, and, in the earlier part of the decade, I even wrote about a hundred pages of fiction that isn’t all horrible, even if I do say so myself. I finally got to see Roky Erickson play, along with a whole bunch of other great shows. I did a lot of cooking, and got better at it. I got to see Harry Shearer and Ken Nordine at video showings, and literally bumped into both of them. I even found Ken Nordine’s house, and the apartment building where Bob Newhart and Suzanne Pleshette lived on TV. And I saw Bob Newhart unveil his bronze “Dr. Hartley” statue, and was briefly visible in the cable TV special filmed there.

Oh yeah, and the White Sox won the World Series.

I have lived the whole time within spitting distance of the studio where Charlie Chaplin made shorts in the 19-teens, and almost as close to the site where the Three Stooges hired Larry Fine, which are only two notable examples of showbiz history this neighborhood can boast.

Speaking of this neighborhood, I'd be remiss if I didn't mention the food here. I can walk two blocks in one direction to enter a wonderland of pho, banh mi, and Chinese barbecue ... and walk two blocks the other way to reach smelling range of an amazing mix of Scandinavian and Middle Eastern groceries, bakeries, and restaurants.

If I get thirsty, I got the Hopleaf, the Edgewater, and good old Simon's right here. (My first drink at Simon's Tavern was about 9 years and 11 months ago, by the way. Barely - barely into my 30s.) And Carol's Pub is a short ways down the pike if I need it. Until recently, the Lakeview Lounge gave me all the David Lynch moments I could handle.

Elsewhere in Chicago during my 30s, I have gotten stoned on a rooftop in Ukrainian Village and watched the sunset bounce off the onion domes of the cathedral, I have drunkenly watched the traffic on Lake Shore Drive from a rooftop in Lakeview, and I have drunkenly attempted (unsuccessfully) to score coke while simultaneously hitting on (also unsuccessfully) a stripper at (this one was in Lincoln Park, I think, but I am not 100% sure) Thurston's (hey, you gotta TRY, once in a while, even schlubbs like me, I mean, come on -- DISCLAIMER: this one might be semi-fictionalized ... but my story and I'm sticking to it is that it's merely slightly exaggerated for fun purposes, although I'm honestly not certain exactly where reality segues into fantasy, which is, you could say, another sign that my 30s weren't all bad. You could. Say.).

I have also drunkenly danced in a roomful of people on New Year’s Eve in a flannel sack – twice.

And - sometimes drunkenly and/or stonedly but not always - I have been privileged to watch some of my friends raise their kids, which is something I never would have imagined would be so fun and rewarding to see.

Yeah, so, the material’s there, if I want to be positive about it. I guess it wasn’t all a waste. Plus, as my little sister jotted on a birthday card I received today, “At least you aren’t 50!”

World-record delayed-reaction laff

Here's how dumb I am sometimes -- I have watched the movie "This Is Spinal Tap" probably a dozen times, at least, and I only just recently finally got the joke from when they mention playing at the "Isle of Lucy." I always just thought it was a kind of obtuse goof on the Isle of Wight. Sheez. Hah!

Isle of Lucy, I get it! Only 23 years later!

"Ahn dass whyee joo no can bee een da cho', Loosie!"

"Ohh, Rickyyy!"

"Ajaja! Joo stoopee cont!"

"WAAAAHHHH!!!"

I believe I can listen to this man play flute all day

Rahsaan Roland Kirk.



"Seasons" in Montreux 1972

Teresa Brewer, 1931-2007

Such a voice. Rest in peace.

Rocktober: The M!ch!gan Ed!t!on

Electrophonic Tonic as covered by Alvin Youngblood Hart, Gary Rasmussen(original bassist of Sonic's Rendezvous Band), Ed Michaels-Drums



Sonics Rendezvous Band - City Slang



The Solution - I Have to Quit You



Detroit Cobras - Shout Bama Lama (Live Tampa Nov 06)



Bob Seger System - Lucifer



Grand Funk Railroad - Are You Ready (live 8/31/69)



MC5 - Lookin At You (live) 1970



20 To Life: The Life And Times Of John Sinclair

Stronger Than Nemo in Slumberland

Last night around midnight (I know what time it was because I woke up and saw the clock afterwards) I dreamed that I was body surfing in Hawaii and having a lot of fun at it, and when I finally got tired and went back up on the beach, Al Gore was standing there in the sand, wearing a big gaudy pair of JAMS shorts and holding my glasses for me, his arm extended out past his huge white hairy gut, gripping the bridge of the frames between his thumb and forefinger, with an aloof expression on his face like a slightly disaffected butler.

UNRELATED BUT PRETTY GOOD NONETHELESS:

It's several months late to commemorate Hoyt Axton's birthday, and a couple weeks early to commemorate his death (and that would be kind of morbid anyway), so I don't have an angle for posting these, but the whim strikes anyway.



Hoyt Axton and Jerry Jeff Walker - Joy to the World



Hoyt Axton - Rusty Old Halo



Hoyt Axton and John Inmon - Della and the Dealer

"Let's root, root, root for the Cubbies! If they don't win, it's business as usual!"

Here I am, as promised, taking credit for being right about one of the immutable laws of nature. There are small number of sure things. I can think of two off the top of my head. Charlie Brown will never succeed at kicking the damn football. And the Cubs will never fail to suck. This game isn't even over yet ... but, seriously, dudes, it's over. As always, and ever.

Today in YouTube as a Remedy to the "Damn I missed it" Syndrome Today

Damn, I missed this bit of last years Touch & Go Records anniversary party over by The Hideout, but, at least there's a video, hey? (Undergoing a bit of a Quasi revival in Chez Stdpm, for some reason, lately.)

Anyway, although I wasn't actually there at the time this was digifotomagooed, I was there for a lot of the rest of it, and I think the spiel the guy delivers at the beginning, the guy who looks like Howie Mandel's nephew, is pretty accurate, in a sort of ... "ahh jesus, what the fuck is wrong with my generation" (but in a sort of semi-affectionate, almost non-self-hating sort of kidding kind of fake-but-painful sock in the puss) way. Yeah, like that.



Quasi

Pay No Attention to That Cubs Losing Behind the Curtain

Watch this instead:



Monkees - Randy Scouse Git

Kick Ass

This is the first video for this song I've yet seen ... this one from some French TV show in 1980, allegedly ...



Captain Beefheart - Safe As Milk

Let's Go Driving in the Car, Car: A YouTube Posting

Heard this on the commute to work yesterday morning on WLUW, in the lentil soup fog at about 7 a.m., on Sheridan Road up by Winnetka near Tower Road shortly before the segue into the ravine-go-round:



Can - Vitamin C

Today in "One Year Ago Today" Today: October 2006 Sports Predictions for 2007: How'd I Doin'?

Not so good.

On October 2, 2006, in a post charmingly titled, "Cubs fans finally complete transformation into walking rectums with dumb blue caps," I spazblogged as follows:

The fact that there are any Cubs fans at all is bewildering enough. The fact that in 2006, more than 3.12 million tickets were sold for the last place team's 81 home games is a mystery for the ages. But the fact that an apparent majority of these people paid among the highest prices in professional baseball to show up and boo, cuss, and whine like ... well, like little Bostonians -- that's just something else.

Well, now they don't have Dusty Baker to kick around anymore. Unfortunately, there's about zero chance that the Cubs won't suck hard again next season. And three million people will show up to complain about it.

But that's an easy prediction to make, even on the first day of the off-season. Yes, the 2007 Cubs will stink to high heaven. Unfortunately, I have a bad feeling -- supported by nothing other than intuition -- that the White Sox are going to be stuck in 3rd place all next year, and by July, a large and loud contingent of fans will be screaming for Ozzie Guillen's head on a plate.

(emphases added)

Hm. In my defense, I was almost right about the White Sox, except they ended up in 4th and were in last for a large part of the year. And instead of Ozzie getting decapitated, he got a contract extension.

But I was right about the Cubs stinking, right?! Right???

Sigh.

OK, well, I'll check back here Saturday -- after they get a few actual playoff games under their girdles -- and we'll see just how much they don't suck then.

RIP Osterizer 1995 - 2007

Hudson County, New Jersey, Correspondent One O Ball writes:

She was an excellent blender. Served well and often for well over a decade, used daily during spring and summer. She started life on The Cardigans tour bus and probably got the workout of her life there. Retired to the House O' Ball and lived out her years making whiskey slushes. An inadvertent loose replacement of the blade fixture after a washing, unfortunately, caused her internal injuries beyond repair. She will be missed.

From blurst to blursterstest: the "Hey, get a room, if you're gonna clinch each other all over the place, you Cubs" edition

The Cubs only have 84 wins, with two left to play. That wouldn't get them better than third place in any other division. But they only won 66 last year at all, and finished in last place. So that's how those cookies crumble ... or reverse crumble ... from crumbs ... into cookies. Or something.

They were in last place for a bit this year, too, I think. Or damn near. For much of the first half of the year, they reeked real bad. Then they seemed to have a turnaround at some point, after some crazy shit happened, fistfights in the locker room, Lou Piniella getting suspended for kicking dirt on an umpire ... but they still seemed to mostly suck to me. They were not often a fun team to watch until August, as I recall, when they did get it together for a while.

They're a mess. They shouldn't get far in the playoffs. Pitching is spotty, offense is erratic and prone to withering droughts. The team plays very bad fundamentals -- too many errors, too many baserunning mistakes. Bad bunting. Dumb plays.

They had five catchers over the course of the year. Unless I'm forgetting anybody. Michael Barrett, initially the starting catcher, was traded away for nothing after it became clear that he couldn't get along with Lou (or ace pitcher Carlos Zambrano, who put Barrett in the hospital with a face beating); Henry Blanco, who was injured most of the year; Koyie Kill, a minor leaguer promoted to fill Blanco's spot and who got a lot more playing time than expected; Jason Kendall, a veteran acquired from Oakland to fill the gap, but who never really seemed particularly useful, with his crappy arm and lousy bat; and Geovany Soto, another rookie, who turned out to be real hot on defense and swing solid lumber, and turned into a fan fave. That's a lot of goddamn backstops. The story of the Cubs catchers alone is some fucked up dysfunctional soap opera. As was right field, the leadoff position, second base, center field, shortstop, left field, ... and the batting lineup in general. And Carlos Zambrano. He was a walking, stalking, stomping, howling, windmill-tilting "All My Children" unto himself.

So it's a puzzler, Columbo, as to how this team can hope to keep it going. But, hey, the Cardinals last season were pretty fucked up, pretty much written off for dead, and they won the World Series. They only won 83 goddamn games in the regular season, and everyone, myself included, expected the Tigers to sweep them in a laffer.

Therefore, the Cubs are guaranteed to win the World Series this year. This is the year. You were here. There is zero percent chance of disaster this time. "Disappointment" is not even listed in the 2007 Merriam-Webster Cubs Unabridged Dictionary of the English Language and Baseball Terminology. We can't lose!

Friday Recipe Blogging: Spicy Hot Tex Mex Shepherd’s Pie with Chipotles and Chihuahua Cheese a la Stronger Than Dirt

I got a bit inventive in the kitchen tonight while listening to the Cubs game on WGN.* Here's what I came up with. I'm calling it a success. You can have the recipe, too, because that's the kind of good people I am.



Spicy Hot Tex Mex Shepherd’s Pie with Chipotles and Chihuahua Cheese

(serves Stronger Than Dirt Pete Moss for a couple of days)

Meat filling ingredients:

• 1 lb ground lamb (or use beef, I guess, or turkey, or other substitute)
• 1/2 T olive oil
• 1 small yellow onion, chopped
• 1 large clove garlic, minced (or 2 small)
• 1 t dried oregano
• 2 t ground cumin
• 1 to 2 T sweet paprika
• salt and pepper to taste
• 1 small can Spanish-style tomato sauce
• 1 small can green chili peppers
• few dashes Tapatio sauce (optional)
• few dashes Worcestershire sauce (optional)
• few splashes of beer to wet it (if needed, which it probably will)
• 1 can red kidney beans, drained
• 1 cup corn kernels (I didn’t really measure)
• 2 large scallions, chopped

Potato topping ingredients:

• a few medium russet potatoes (play it by ear, c’mon; I didn’t weigh em)
• salt to taste
• 1 or 2 T butter
• big dollop of sour cream (use enough to make it creamy without making it soup)
• 4 canned chipotles, minced, w/ clinging adobo sauce (this is a lot; use fewer if desired)
• shredded chihuahua cheese (about 1 cup)

The how-to-do-it:

In a dutch oven or similar vessel over medium heat, brown lamb in olive oil with yellow onion and garlic. Drain fat (I actually rinsed it in a colander, because lamb fat is kind of gamey). Add spices & seasonings, toss around a bit, lowering heat if you’re afraid they’ll burn. As soon as they smell good and nice, add the tomato sauce, green chilis, and a little beer to moisten it up. (I like to slosh the beer around in the tomato sauce can and get it all out of there.) I found that a little Tapatio and Worcestershire helped the sweet-acid balance, but if you don’t like them, mazel tov to you. Simmer for about 15 minutes.

Might as well, in the meantime, wash, peel, and chop up the potatoes, add them to a saucepan with cold water, and put on the flame to high. You know, make mashed potatoes. I don’t gotta tell you how to make mashed potatoes, right? Google it if you don’t know. Anyway, get the mash going while the meaty filling is simmering. For purposes of timing.

Also not a bad time to remember to turn the oven on and set it to 375.

OK. The potatoes are cooking and the filling (or, the stuff in there thus far) has had a chance to kind of get friendly. Now you should put in the beans, scallions, and corn. Mix well, without busting up the beans too much. Taste and adjust seasonings. You might need a little more salt and/or pepper. Bring it back to a simmer and then turn the heat down to low, just to keep it warm while you deal with the potatoes.

When the potatoes are cooked (test with a knife or a fork or the Farmers Almanac, whatever you do), out with the water and in with the butter, sour cream, and chipotles & adobo. Mash mash mash. Mash. Mash mash. Mash mash mash mash. OK, they’re mashed.

Grab a casserole dish and spoon in some filling. I don’t have good proportions here. I had more filling than would fit in my casserole, so I had extra, which I’ll use for something else another day (excellent). Probably should fill it about 2/3 full with the lamby beany corny mixture. Then plop the smoking spicy hot potatoes on top to cover completely, smoothing it out nicely with a spatula and drawing a design in it if you like. It doesn’t matter. Top with shredded chihuahua cheese. Put it in the oven, uncovered.

Bake for about 25 minutes, until golden brown. And be careful taking it out. It’s gonna be pretty bubbly, and you don’t want molten insides on you. Use your welder’s gloves, if you have any. Let it rest for about 5 minutes before serving.



*Congratulations to the Cubs, by the way, for guaranteeing themselves at least a tie for the division title, with tonight's win over the Reds.

Don't it always seem to go, that you don't know what you got till it's ....

Despite all or most appearances, Billie Joe Armstrong ain't so bad. This one is pretty good, and proves he ain't so bad, man. One of his side projects.



Pinhead Gunpowder - Big Yellow Taxi

Green Day still ripped off the fucking Descendents, dude, totally, and I'm never fucking forgiving them for that, no matter how old and tired I get! Right.



Descendents - Clean Sheets

Also, you know what, man? The Chambers Brothers ripped off the Angry Samoans, in reverse chronological order.



Angry Samoans - Time Has Come Today

Wrock Collidge: Origins of the New York Punk Scene 101

The WFMU blog posted a real solid mp3 version of this a year or two ago, or so, but lookit, there's a YouTube version up (slightly different, for you completists) that embeds pretty well hyah.



Jeffrey Lewis - Complete History of Punk Rock (on the Lower East Side of New York City, New York, USA)

Breathe through your noses, Cubbies

Shhhh ... listen ...

Do you hear what I hear?

Do you hear that awful choking sound?

What could that awful, awful choking sound be?

Could it be a gaggle of rookie porn starlets at a Tadalafil convention?

No ... not a gaggle of rookie porn starlets at a Tadalafil convention.

Then what could that awful, awful, awful choking sound be?

Why, I believe it is the Chicago Cubs.

Be not fooled, fools!

The Cubs may be in first place, with only 6 games left to play. The Brewers may be 3.5 games behind the Cubs, and 3 games back in the "Loss" column, with only 7 games remaining on their schedule. Cubs fans may even have begun to allow themselves to slip into that velveteen noose called "Belief." The sports nerds may be telling us that the Cubs' "magic number" is 4.

But we know better. We know that the Cubs' "tragic number" remains, and will ever remain

∞

Rex Grossman for President

In news of news that makes me temporarily amused and gladdened, the Bears lost miserably last night on the NBC national television broadcast. The Bears losing -- especially when they lose badly, and especially when they lose badly on network TV -- always makes people here in Chicago melancholy and Sartreian.*

The Bears went to the Stupid Bowl last year, and everyone assumed they would do so again this year. But, so far, they suck. Like a large number of objects that suck. An awesome array of mechanical suction creators.

Football annoys the hell out of me, so I like this.**

Although maybe the goddamn Cubs and their pretend flurry of a fugazi*** of nonsuckingness are propping up the pathetic emotional baggages of Chicagoland athletic supporters.

Every year, in July or so, when both baseball teams usually suck, people often say, "Well, at least football season starts soon." But this year, it looks like the attemptedly-optimistic chumps in Outside-My-Apartment-Stan would have to say, "Well, at least baseball season isn't over yet."

Hah!

Screw you, sports fans. Screw you to hell!


* This brings them down a little closer to my level -- and you could call my level "basement," but I prefer the real estate euphemism, "garden."
** And what I like even better is that the hated Notre Damiens of South Bent, Hoosiermama, lost again and are 0 and 4. I will not be truly happy, however, until they go 0 and 666.
*** Not the band, the slang term meaning "phony." Duh.