Lux Interior of the Cramps has died.
Also passing this week, Chicago radio legend, Ed Schwartz. More to come on Ed soon.
Thursday, February 05, 2009
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Subterranean Governor's Mansion Blues
Apologies to Zimmerman.
Patti's in the basement
Cursin' Cubs management
Blago's on the pavement
Runnin' the government
Blago in his track suit
Woke up, no joke
Takin' Blago to the poke
Look out kid
It's somethin' you did
Fitz knows when
And you're doin' it again
You better duck down the alley way
Lookin' for a new friend
The man from Kankakee
In the big pen
Wants eleven packs of smokes
You only got ten
Blago comes fleet foot
Wig full of black soot
Talkin' that the heat put
Rahm into bed but
The phone's tapped anyway
Sam Adam says he can't say
Easter Bunny knocks in early May
Orders from Oba-may
Look out kid
Don't matter what you did
Jog on your tip toes
Don't go on talk shows
Better stay away from those
That wear support panty hose
Keep a clean nose
Watch the plain clothes
You don't need the Skilling clan
To know which way the wind blows
Hair thick, clothes black
Tap Burris for your hack
Talk smack, Reid's flak
Democrats are sure to crack
Try hard, get barred
Get jailed, make bail
Quote some poets, you can't fail
Look out Trib
You're gonna get hit
But users, cheaters
Six-time losers
Hang around Springfield
Lawyers and their steno pool
Won't represent a big fool
Meanwhile the leaders
Privatized the parking meters
This thing's gold, won't fold
The fuck you say, no way, pay to play
You schmuck, get fucked
This teat is here to be sucked
Please me, please her, demand gifts
It's not stealing, not a grift
Six years in office
And they give you shitty short shrift
Look out, Quinn
You'll be the next one done in
No one'll light a candle
Good luck avoidin' scandals
Don't wanna be a bum
Pinched between the cheek and gum
Machine still works
Same old vandals turn the handles
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Dirty Politics
"Stimulus package." Think about that for a minute.
Heh heh heh.
And presidents. We've had two Bushes and two Johnsons. That's a good even number. When there are more johnsons around than bushes, trouble could erupt at any time.
Heh heh. "Erupt."
But I think the dirtiest president was Harding. Hard. Ding.
Heh. Heh heh.
Yeah, he's got a package for you. And it's already stimulused.
(This has been my throwawayiest blog post ever.)
Heh heh heh.
And presidents. We've had two Bushes and two Johnsons. That's a good even number. When there are more johnsons around than bushes, trouble could erupt at any time.
Heh heh. "Erupt."
But I think the dirtiest president was Harding. Hard. Ding.
Heh. Heh heh.
Yeah, he's got a package for you. And it's already stimulused.
(This has been my throwawayiest blog post ever.)
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Screw the hot stove -- spring's about to sproing; I can feel it
After last week, this week's weather -- with sunny days in the 20s -- has felt like, well, warmth. Which puts me in the mood for ... you know what. And also too as well -- baseball.
I'm hype-averse (plus, hey, I had actual work to do), so I did not watch any of the inauguration festivities, but I caught wind of the massive "na na hey hey goodbye" chorus with which the crowd serenaded Ex-Commandante Bush. And I do proclaim that to be excellent. It will be good to have a Sox fan in the White House.
In that connection, I have a very small suggestion for President Obama, which I think will go a long way toward cementing the success of his first year in office. That suggestion is as follows: Issue a proclamation making the following the official song of the 2009 Chicago White Sox season. Yes, it's Finnish, but we've only just begun.
Eläkeläiset - Humpatkaa (Thunderstruck)
HISTORICAL FOOTNOTE:
In re: "Na Na Hey Hey Kiss Him Goodbye," Wikipedia sez:
My very first White Sox game attended in person by me was in 1977, versus the K.C. Royals. I don't have specific recollection as to whether that game was during the above-referenced critical series, but I do recall much joyous na-naaing and hey-heyying (not to mention good-byeing) taking place, and that commotion being one of my favorite things about the night.
I'm hype-averse (plus, hey, I had actual work to do), so I did not watch any of the inauguration festivities, but I caught wind of the massive "na na hey hey goodbye" chorus with which the crowd serenaded Ex-Commandante Bush. And I do proclaim that to be excellent. It will be good to have a Sox fan in the White House.
In that connection, I have a very small suggestion for President Obama, which I think will go a long way toward cementing the success of his first year in office. That suggestion is as follows: Issue a proclamation making the following the official song of the 2009 Chicago White Sox season. Yes, it's Finnish, but we've only just begun.
Eläkeläiset - Humpatkaa (Thunderstruck)
HISTORICAL FOOTNOTE:
In re: "Na Na Hey Hey Kiss Him Goodbye," Wikipedia sez:
The song was transformed into a stadium anthem during the 1977 Major League Baseball season. Chicago White Sox organist Nancy Faust had played the song many times before when opposing pitchers were relieved or when the Sox had clearly won the game, but without much reaction from the Comiskey Park fans. During a critical series with the Kansas City Royals, however, the crowd began singing along with the tune, and a tradition was born.
My very first White Sox game attended in person by me was in 1977, versus the K.C. Royals. I don't have specific recollection as to whether that game was during the above-referenced critical series, but I do recall much joyous na-naaing and hey-heyying (not to mention good-byeing) taking place, and that commotion being one of my favorite things about the night.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
"I am what you call a 'controversial figure.' People either hate me or they despise me."
Quick pop quiz. Who said the above?
If you guessed Rod Blagojevich, you're wrong. But you're close.
The 40-somethings among us in the (peanut-free, allergies being what they are) gallery may remember a charming little man (probably best-known for his frequent appearances in the Retching '80s on Late Night With David Letterman) named Brother Theodore. To jump the gun just slightly, I happen to believe that Brother Theodore and Rod Blagojevich are one and the same ... or twin brothers. Well, there is a certain temporal dysplasia between them, so perhaps they are better described as dutch uncles and nephews (or nieces or cousins or shirt-tail relatives of some other taxonomic designation, I don't know what, exactly).
At any rate, they're both deranged fellows with crazy hair and a fine sense of fashion. Can you dispute the resemblance? For the sake of my thesis, here are two depictions of Brother Theodore as a young(ish) man:
To complete my argument, two recent photographs of Governor Theodore, er, Blagojevich:
I might have mixed them up. I ... I'm not sure. So ... look-alike-able. So ... indistinguishable.
Through all of Governor Blago's travails, all his Kiplingings, all his Roland Burrisings, his "I will fight, and fight, and fight and fight and fight, fight fight fight, fight fight fight, the Itchy and Scratchy show" self-defense vowingsings ... I keep seeing nothing and nobody but the ghost(s) of Brother Theodore ... the Ghost of Theodore Past, and the Ghost of Theodore Yet To Come.
Yes. Yet to come. The Governor may be down, but don't count him out. When he gets a little bit of what my old law-firm boss used to call "gray matter" on his poufy head, don't be surprised if you find Rod B. turning up on late-night talk shows and in dingy store-front theaters, acclaimed as a genius. Perhaps, even, THE genius of our time.
For a preview of that, watch these. Squint a little, and ignore the slight Germanic accent, and you may be able to imagine what low-rent TV will be like 25 or 30 years from now. (First a short one that captures the gist of my case, and then a longer one, enticingly titled "That Itchy Chick.")
BONUS BASEBALL-RELATED THEODORE:
Here's our man riffing on a little "Who's On First" action with Sammy Davis Junior (Billy Crystal) in an old HBO special (featuring Chris Guest, and with Eugene Levy doing very little.)
If you guessed Rod Blagojevich, you're wrong. But you're close.
The 40-somethings among us in the (peanut-free, allergies being what they are) gallery may remember a charming little man (probably best-known for his frequent appearances in the Retching '80s on Late Night With David Letterman) named Brother Theodore. To jump the gun just slightly, I happen to believe that Brother Theodore and Rod Blagojevich are one and the same ... or twin brothers. Well, there is a certain temporal dysplasia between them, so perhaps they are better described as dutch uncles and nephews (or nieces or cousins or shirt-tail relatives of some other taxonomic designation, I don't know what, exactly).
At any rate, they're both deranged fellows with crazy hair and a fine sense of fashion. Can you dispute the resemblance? For the sake of my thesis, here are two depictions of Brother Theodore as a young(ish) man:
To complete my argument, two recent photographs of Governor Theodore, er, Blagojevich:
I might have mixed them up. I ... I'm not sure. So ... look-alike-able. So ... indistinguishable.
Through all of Governor Blago's travails, all his Kiplingings, all his Roland Burrisings, his "I will fight, and fight, and fight and fight and fight, fight fight fight, fight fight fight, the Itchy and Scratchy show" self-defense vowingsings ... I keep seeing nothing and nobody but the ghost(s) of Brother Theodore ... the Ghost of Theodore Past, and the Ghost of Theodore Yet To Come.
Yes. Yet to come. The Governor may be down, but don't count him out. When he gets a little bit of what my old law-firm boss used to call "gray matter" on his poufy head, don't be surprised if you find Rod B. turning up on late-night talk shows and in dingy store-front theaters, acclaimed as a genius. Perhaps, even, THE genius of our time.
For a preview of that, watch these. Squint a little, and ignore the slight Germanic accent, and you may be able to imagine what low-rent TV will be like 25 or 30 years from now. (First a short one that captures the gist of my case, and then a longer one, enticingly titled "That Itchy Chick.")
BONUS BASEBALL-RELATED THEODORE:
Here's our man riffing on a little "Who's On First" action with Sammy Davis Junior (Billy Crystal) in an old HBO special (featuring Chris Guest, and with Eugene Levy doing very little.)
Friday, January 16, 2009
Mingus and Piper's Book Club
At some point during the night or morning, the cats knocked a single paperback book from the bookcase next to their food dishes. I wonder if they're trying to tell me something.
That book: Will: The Autobiography of G. Gordon Liddy.
That book: Will: The Autobiography of G. Gordon Liddy.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Meanwhile, in the Aleutian Islands ...
My goodness, it's cold. It's so cold I can't even work up the gumption to swear. Let alone write -- or even think up -- a blog post. Forget it. I'm hiding under blankets until further notice.
ICONOGRAPHICAL POSTSCRIPT: I did manage to create this nifty fascistic personality-cult poster over at Paste Mag (even though they're getting crippling traffic & the site isn't working properly, so I had to make a screen capture to save it).
The moral of that story: STDPM DON'T TAKE NO GUFF FROM NO MACHINERY!!!
ICONOGRAPHICAL POSTSCRIPT: I did manage to create this nifty fascistic personality-cult poster over at Paste Mag (even though they're getting crippling traffic & the site isn't working properly, so I had to make a screen capture to save it).
The moral of that story: STDPM DON'T TAKE NO GUFF FROM NO MACHINERY!!!
Friday, January 09, 2009
Hit Steve Gnaws?
Sorry for the garbled title, but my ears are ringing from being overloaded with incessant and shrill news coverage of the Cubs' acquisition of Milton "Silly Name, Too Easy to Mock" Bradley.
I was going to say I didn't care about it, but I guess I am looking forward to the remote possibility that Bradley will get in another fight with a racist, moronic umpire. I respect the beauty and majesty of the game and all that jazz, but I do enjoy a good fight now and then. Especially if an ump is involved. We're not big fans of "The Man" here at CBRAT HQ -- where we don't care which way the flags are pointing in the outfield, daddy-o, because you don't need a weather man to know which way the wind blows. Or something. Plus, since we're underground, wind is not really an available factor in our weather forecasts. But I digress.
Speaking of digressions, did you know that Milton Bradley and Parker Brothers are both brand names owned by Hasbro? And here I thought they were different companies. Huh. And Hasbro owns a Japanese subsidiary called Kosuke Fukudome, but the outlook is not particularly good for that line of toys. Market research shows that once Kosuke Fukudome board games are purchased -- at extremely high prices -- consumers tend to play with them once or twice and then put them away in a closet, toy box, cupboard, or even a dugout, where they are forgotten forever ... except when the monthly installments have to be paid. Plus, the translator takes up a seat on the plane that could be put to better use. Like, for storing Lou Piniella's booze. (That joke would work better if the Cubs were managed by Tony La Russa, but you play the ball as it lies, I guess.)
Meanwhile ... down at 35th and Shields, the sound of crickets. Which is no mean feat in January, when all the crickets are sleeping -- hibernating in their little caves, like the grizzly bears, mountain lions, and Ligues.
The top headline on the White Sox home page today is: "Sox rotation questions similar to 2008." Can you beat that for excitement? Yes, you can. Even if you are incredibly boring.
The story does contain an account of Don Cooper being questioned about a rumored possible not-gonna-happen-but-there's-nothing-else-to-talk-about trade of Gavin Floyd for Brian Roberts -- but that would be so much more entertaining on TV or radio. Because Don Cooper always cracks me up. And his thick NYC accent is a nice contrast from that of local sports radio hosts, such as, say, "jerk off" Mike North. In a written story, I have to imagine it, which is fun enough, but it usually leaves me wishing that sports writers could get away with phonetic spelling of dialogue.
Anyway, I would think that a Floyd-for-Roberts trade would raise totally different questions about the rotation from any that characterized the 2008 season. Such as -- "How exactly are the Sox going to replace Floyd in the starting rotation?" Because adding a hot leadoff hitter -- while a worthwhile thing to do, in itself -- doesn't exactly accomplish that task.
One (two-part) question about the Sox rotation from '08 that will go pleasingly unasked in '09 is, "Does anyone honestly expect me to believe that Jose Contreras was born in 1971? Don't they have the last two digits inverted?"
OK, that's enough Hut Stiff Noobs for now. Keep it warm, but keep it.
I was going to say I didn't care about it, but I guess I am looking forward to the remote possibility that Bradley will get in another fight with a racist, moronic umpire. I respect the beauty and majesty of the game and all that jazz, but I do enjoy a good fight now and then. Especially if an ump is involved. We're not big fans of "The Man" here at CBRAT HQ -- where we don't care which way the flags are pointing in the outfield, daddy-o, because you don't need a weather man to know which way the wind blows. Or something. Plus, since we're underground, wind is not really an available factor in our weather forecasts. But I digress.
Speaking of digressions, did you know that Milton Bradley and Parker Brothers are both brand names owned by Hasbro? And here I thought they were different companies. Huh. And Hasbro owns a Japanese subsidiary called Kosuke Fukudome, but the outlook is not particularly good for that line of toys. Market research shows that once Kosuke Fukudome board games are purchased -- at extremely high prices -- consumers tend to play with them once or twice and then put them away in a closet, toy box, cupboard, or even a dugout, where they are forgotten forever ... except when the monthly installments have to be paid. Plus, the translator takes up a seat on the plane that could be put to better use. Like, for storing Lou Piniella's booze. (That joke would work better if the Cubs were managed by Tony La Russa, but you play the ball as it lies, I guess.)
Meanwhile ... down at 35th and Shields, the sound of crickets. Which is no mean feat in January, when all the crickets are sleeping -- hibernating in their little caves, like the grizzly bears, mountain lions, and Ligues.
The top headline on the White Sox home page today is: "Sox rotation questions similar to 2008." Can you beat that for excitement? Yes, you can. Even if you are incredibly boring.
The story does contain an account of Don Cooper being questioned about a rumored possible not-gonna-happen-but-there's-nothing-else-to-talk-about trade of Gavin Floyd for Brian Roberts -- but that would be so much more entertaining on TV or radio. Because Don Cooper always cracks me up. And his thick NYC accent is a nice contrast from that of local sports radio hosts, such as, say, "jerk off" Mike North. In a written story, I have to imagine it, which is fun enough, but it usually leaves me wishing that sports writers could get away with phonetic spelling of dialogue.
Anyway, I would think that a Floyd-for-Roberts trade would raise totally different questions about the rotation from any that characterized the 2008 season. Such as -- "How exactly are the Sox going to replace Floyd in the starting rotation?" Because adding a hot leadoff hitter -- while a worthwhile thing to do, in itself -- doesn't exactly accomplish that task.
One (two-part) question about the Sox rotation from '08 that will go pleasingly unasked in '09 is, "Does anyone honestly expect me to believe that Jose Contreras was born in 1971? Don't they have the last two digits inverted?"
OK, that's enough Hut Stiff Noobs for now. Keep it warm, but keep it.
Tuesday, January 06, 2009
"Hot Stove" News: "Everybody Get Yer Hankies Cuz We Only Talk Wankees"
So ... one thing has already happened this year. The newest bastard child of Bud Selig -- the MLB Network -- a whole channel about professional United States of American baseball, in case you hadn't guessed -- or noticed it, since it's way way way up in the five-digit channel numbers, right next to such powerhouses as "The Albanian Folk Dance Channel," "The Arts and Crafts by Mutes, for Mutes, Network (TAACBMFMN)," and "C-SPAN 2" -- has finally sprung into life on the cable television, over by there. If you call that living. I guess I could wait until the season starts before I start bitching about it, but why? I'm not waiting until Inauguration Day to bitch about Obama's rocket-powered Cannonball-Run-like "drift" to the right. And I see no reason to treat pre-baseball MLB-related television programming any differently.
Of course, their current pre-actual-baseball-season flagship programme is called "Hot Stove." I haven't gotten any cease and desist letters or any other forms of threat due to my mockery of the trademark, but maybe if I try real hard, I will.
Anyway, here's my impression of MLB Network's "Hot Stove" (cable) televisual showcase:
The best thing about it is that it's re-run about six times a day, so -- in case you missed their in-depth coverage of every waking moment of every employee of the New York Fucking Yankees, and every inch traveled by every penny of every one of the uberkaboodleplex million dollars they will spend in 2009 -- you have plenty of chances to catch up.
CATCH UP ON THE HOT STOVE NEWS ABOUT THE NEW FUCKING YORK FUCKING YANKEES!!! EVERY HOUR ON THE HOUR, PLUS AGAIN EVERY FIFTEEN MINUTES, OVERLAPPING!!! FUCK YEAH!!!
In short: No sir, I don't like it.
Of course, their current pre-actual-baseball-season flagship programme is called "Hot Stove." I haven't gotten any cease and desist letters or any other forms of threat due to my mockery of the trademark, but maybe if I try real hard, I will.
Anyway, here's my impression of MLB Network's "Hot Stove" (cable) televisual showcase:
This just in! Derek Jeter had Chinese for lunch today! This just in! Hank Steinbrenner farted this morning and made his personal assistant take the blame! This just in! Joe Girardi was spotted at a Manhattan nightclub last night with a booger in his nose that he didn't seem to realize was visible, and nobody felt socially bold enough to tell him!
This just in! Yankees, Yankees, Yankees!
YankeesYankeesYankeesYankeesYankees!!!!!
YankeesYankeesYankeesYankeesYankees!!!!!
YankeesYankeesYankeesYankeesYankees!!!!!
(huff huff huff huff ... deep breath)
YankeesYankeesYankeesYankeesYankees!!!!!
Oh yeah, and something called "Red Sox" exist, too. Strange world we live in.
But, mostly ... YAANNNKEEEEEEEEES!!!
(Then the out-of-breath sports-dork host drops dead on the spot, and an old Arte Johnson looking dude in NYY pinstripes waddles onto the set and sweeps his body up. Credits. The end.)
The best thing about it is that it's re-run about six times a day, so -- in case you missed their in-depth coverage of every waking moment of every employee of the New York Fucking Yankees, and every inch traveled by every penny of every one of the uberkaboodleplex million dollars they will spend in 2009 -- you have plenty of chances to catch up.
CATCH UP ON THE HOT STOVE NEWS ABOUT THE NEW FUCKING YORK FUCKING YANKEES!!! EVERY HOUR ON THE HOUR, PLUS AGAIN EVERY FIFTEEN MINUTES, OVERLAPPING!!! FUCK YEAH!!!
In short: No sir, I don't like it.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Hey, who spilled bubbly on the Hot Stove News?
One last post for 2008, but just a quickie, cuz I gotta take a post-work nap before heading over to a par-tay next door. But the Cubbies have been busy today, huh? Mark DeRosa traded to Cleveland for the standard "three guys nobody has heard of," where I guess he'll be joining good ole Kerry Wood (how we hate him). Aaron Miles picked up from the Cardinals to, I guess, fill DeRosa's (f)utility role. And it looks like Jason Marquis will be going to Colorado in exchange for Luis Vizcaino, which seems like a fairly even crap-pro-crappo deal to me.
OK. Here's wishing everyone a cup o' kindness and all that. Happy New Year to you and yours.
OK. Here's wishing everyone a cup o' kindness and all that. Happy New Year to you and yours.
Year Out, Year In -- Auld Blog Syne
Here's my wrap-up on 2008:
Here's my forecast for 2009:
Sucked.
Here's my forecast for 2009:
Gonna suck even worser.
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Late Letter to Santa Claus
Well, since the temperature surged up into the 20s today, I organized a sortie outdoors to see how entombed my car was within a plow-induced igloo of frost. And the answer is lots. Lots entombed.
I took a snow shovel to the icy gift-wrapping surrounding my mighty 4-cylinder Japanese sleigh, and the shovel bounced off the rock-hard snow-mass twangily, and I tried again, several times, and then I started to sweat and exhibit signs of an impending heart attack, so I went back inside.
So I might be spending at least Christmas Eve, if not Christmas Day as well, here, in the apartment, with the kitty cats. Which I won't mind. Although the food situation here is not as good as it will be at the folks' house. I won't starve, but I'll be bored. Maybe I'll be able to move the car later on in the week, or over the weekend.
And maybe not. I'm just about fucking disgusted with the futility of owning a car in winter in this town.
But then if there's anything I'm overly excellent at, it's being fucking disgusted. At everything. All the time.
I'm not just colicky. I'm super duper extreme colicky. And even I find me irritating.
Anothing thing about me that I'm irritated by is, why do I waste so much time reading so many liberal blogs? Especially ones that spend most of their time and space bitching about whatever insane shit the asshole conservative blogs are yapping about?
I mean, I've done a great job of avoiding the pajamas people, whoever they are, and the little green footballs, and even the National Review Online. I've never even seen Ann Coulter on TV once, but every time she spews a vile turd of right-wing outrageousness, I end up reading all about it online. Feh and fooey.
I don't want to know. I know those people are nuts -- I have heard every single tired argument and slur spewed by ultra-conservatives, and they haven't changed in 20 years. Yes yes yes, poor people, unions, and minorities are responsible for every single problem in America, not to mention teh gheys.
Doesn't (what passes for) The Left have anything better to do than exchange endless fusillades with their counterparts on the alleged other side of the continuum?
Somebody must find it really fun to fire up The Tubes and find out what creepy, disgusting nonsense so-and-so has cooked up this morning, I dunno. But I don't.
So why do I keep visiting these (purportedly) lefty blogs?
Because I am an idiot.
Please, Santa, if you're reading this -- I've been a pretty good boy this year. I drank too much too often, and I engaged in lots and lots of sloth. But, really, my list of middle-aged sins for 2008 is rather boring. Which, in my opinion, counts as good.
So, Santa, can you bring me some sense this year? Can you drop me off a little sanity?
If so, I just wanted to let you know that I might be stuck here at CBRAT Central on Christmas morning, so if you can swing by in your magic flying chariot and check, I'd appreciate it vastly.
Thanking you in advance, Santa.
Love,
Stronger Than Dirt
I took a snow shovel to the icy gift-wrapping surrounding my mighty 4-cylinder Japanese sleigh, and the shovel bounced off the rock-hard snow-mass twangily, and I tried again, several times, and then I started to sweat and exhibit signs of an impending heart attack, so I went back inside.
So I might be spending at least Christmas Eve, if not Christmas Day as well, here, in the apartment, with the kitty cats. Which I won't mind. Although the food situation here is not as good as it will be at the folks' house. I won't starve, but I'll be bored. Maybe I'll be able to move the car later on in the week, or over the weekend.
And maybe not. I'm just about fucking disgusted with the futility of owning a car in winter in this town.
But then if there's anything I'm overly excellent at, it's being fucking disgusted. At everything. All the time.
I'm not just colicky. I'm super duper extreme colicky. And even I find me irritating.
Anothing thing about me that I'm irritated by is, why do I waste so much time reading so many liberal blogs? Especially ones that spend most of their time and space bitching about whatever insane shit the asshole conservative blogs are yapping about?
I mean, I've done a great job of avoiding the pajamas people, whoever they are, and the little green footballs, and even the National Review Online. I've never even seen Ann Coulter on TV once, but every time she spews a vile turd of right-wing outrageousness, I end up reading all about it online. Feh and fooey.
I don't want to know. I know those people are nuts -- I have heard every single tired argument and slur spewed by ultra-conservatives, and they haven't changed in 20 years. Yes yes yes, poor people, unions, and minorities are responsible for every single problem in America, not to mention teh gheys.
Doesn't (what passes for) The Left have anything better to do than exchange endless fusillades with their counterparts on the alleged other side of the continuum?
Somebody must find it really fun to fire up The Tubes and find out what creepy, disgusting nonsense so-and-so has cooked up this morning, I dunno. But I don't.
So why do I keep visiting these (purportedly) lefty blogs?
Because I am an idiot.
Please, Santa, if you're reading this -- I've been a pretty good boy this year. I drank too much too often, and I engaged in lots and lots of sloth. But, really, my list of middle-aged sins for 2008 is rather boring. Which, in my opinion, counts as good.
So, Santa, can you bring me some sense this year? Can you drop me off a little sanity?
If so, I just wanted to let you know that I might be stuck here at CBRAT Central on Christmas morning, so if you can swing by in your magic flying chariot and check, I'd appreciate it vastly.
Thanking you in advance, Santa.
Love,
Stronger Than Dirt
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Chestnuts suck, who don't think so?
Friend of the blog, Foojang, over by Portland, Oregon, writes as follows, and I respond as follows that, and that's what this post is, and it's too fucking cold for me to type anymore. Cheers.
Whelp, the weather has been mizherable here for over a week now,
Me and you both, Sahib. Today the warmest it got was -3. Fahrenheit.
I thought I had my xmas shopping done, but I realized tonight that I bought the same damn stuffed moose from the Swedish museum for the same damn person last year. So now I have to account for that error. I think I can juggle the "who gets what" and make it work. If not, I have to shop more, and .... fuck, I hate that.
Plus, it's supposed to snow like a fuckass on xmas eve, and I don't want to miss Italian beef sammitches for lunch that my mom is serving for the annual hectic mayhem thing with the deranged relatives.
My cousin _____ will be visiting on leave from Iraq, where he has been volunteering to go along on bomb defusing missions for extra money. So ... that's Sanity Claus for you, ho ho ho.
My sister's boyfriend _____ might sit it all out, because he's pouting. His _____ is in jail, and his _____ is a nut, and _____ is pouting because my sister's family is "perfect." Yeahhhhhh. The Mosses. Of Gurnee, Illinois. Perfect. I wasn't aware of that definition of the term. But anyway, _____ is having a major snit of self-pity, giving my sister the business about "You never had to live on wheels!" etc.
This is how the world ends. It's ending now. It fucking better be.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Don't Touch That Stove; That Stove Is Hot -- Another Cubs Report
While everyone is exercising themselves over the transformation of Wrigley Field to hockey rink containing facility, Jim Hendry's Cubbies have signed speedy fast-ster Joey Gathright to a one-year, $800,000 deal. That pooping sound you hear is coming from Reed Johnson's pants.
And that's about as exciting as I can make that non-story.
Meanwhile, reporters report that the Chicago Hockey Blackhawks have the top attendance record this season in the National Irrelevant They Still Play Hockey? Professionally? League, improving from 29th out of 30 last season. Just goes to show what can happen when an unpopular owner goes the way of all flesh. Or what can happen when there's no place to go but up.
Hockey. I still have contusions and peculiarly warped limbs from my efforts to play at that game during my stupider, teenage years. And I still have the skates. I'm sure they still fit, although I haven't strapped them on in over a decade, and all signs point to that record remaining unbroken forever.
Stove is hot. Clear down range. Ken Williams? Your move. Been a long time since any White Sox news happened. And Darrin Jackson moving over to radio -- completing a media swap with Steve Stone -- doesn't count.
A solid broadcast experience. Very well. For a medium consisting of intangible waves, that's something. Not sure what. But something.
Maybe he just means the tower will fall on us. That would be solid.
Stay tuned. The gas bill is paid up, the knobs have been taken off this sucker, and all burners are blue jets of awesome off-season baseball fascination.
Cue the theme song.
Hot stove news! Hot stove news! Hot! Stove! News!
And that's about as exciting as I can make that non-story.
Meanwhile, reporters report that the Chicago Hockey Blackhawks have the top attendance record this season in the National Irrelevant They Still Play Hockey? Professionally? League, improving from 29th out of 30 last season. Just goes to show what can happen when an unpopular owner goes the way of all flesh. Or what can happen when there's no place to go but up.
Hockey. I still have contusions and peculiarly warped limbs from my efforts to play at that game during my stupider, teenage years. And I still have the skates. I'm sure they still fit, although I haven't strapped them on in over a decade, and all signs point to that record remaining unbroken forever.
Stove is hot. Clear down range. Ken Williams? Your move. Been a long time since any White Sox news happened. And Darrin Jackson moving over to radio -- completing a media swap with Steve Stone -- doesn't count.
"We are confident Ed Farmer and Darrin Jackson will partner to provide White Sox fans a solid broadcast experience," said Mitch Rosen, WSCR 670 AM program director.
A solid broadcast experience. Very well. For a medium consisting of intangible waves, that's something. Not sure what. But something.
Maybe he just means the tower will fall on us. That would be solid.
Stay tuned. The gas bill is paid up, the knobs have been taken off this sucker, and all burners are blue jets of awesome off-season baseball fascination.
Cue the theme song.
Hot stove news! Hot stove news! Hot! Stove! News!
Friday, December 12, 2008
'Tis STILL the season?!? Oh, Jaysus, what'd I do to deserve this?!?
As per allusions I've made over on another blog (no further hints here, Google stalkers), I like the Pogues and I like Kirsty MacColl.
Meanwhile, despite honest efforts to the contrary, I hate Christmas. But, still, here below is a confluence of the thrixt of em. Which turns out pretty nice on balance, even I have to admit.
By the way, did you know that if you add enough alcohol to a Swede you produce an Irishman? I think it's true, anyway. Apropos of nothing. Add more alcohol, and you just get a drunker Mick. Sorry. I don't control physics.
Well, I don't.
Anyway. The below-embeddenated number, "Fairy Tale of New York," is a favorite of mine, Christmas or no. In terms of "Christmas = yes," it is way, way up there. It's in my top three favorite Christmas songs, probably. I've never listed them, but I figure it's worth that grade.
There is also some personal history that goes with the song, but I'll not convert that to narrative for you at this time, but will save it for later. Amen.
One last thing, though. Next week, the 18th, will mark the eighth anniversary of the tragic death of Kirsty MacColl, who we'd all be better off having around now, if we'd have been so lucky.
Meanwhile, despite honest efforts to the contrary, I hate Christmas. But, still, here below is a confluence of the thrixt of em. Which turns out pretty nice on balance, even I have to admit.
By the way, did you know that if you add enough alcohol to a Swede you produce an Irishman? I think it's true, anyway. Apropos of nothing. Add more alcohol, and you just get a drunker Mick. Sorry. I don't control physics.
Well, I don't.
Anyway. The below-embeddenated number, "Fairy Tale of New York," is a favorite of mine, Christmas or no. In terms of "Christmas = yes," it is way, way up there. It's in my top three favorite Christmas songs, probably. I've never listed them, but I figure it's worth that grade.
There is also some personal history that goes with the song, but I'll not convert that to narrative for you at this time, but will save it for later. Amen.
One last thing, though. Next week, the 18th, will mark the eighth anniversary of the tragic death of Kirsty MacColl, who we'd all be better off having around now, if we'd have been so lucky.
Cubs Report: The Stove Is Cold, the Oven Is Slack. Peavy's Not Comin', and Cotts'll Be Back
Well, the whole report is pretty much in the title. No sense gilding the lily, as they say.
But the fact remains, it is deep, dark meteorological winter (if not astronomical same), and baseball, baseball is what I miss.
The other sports don't do it. I'm not against football, basketball, hockey, or mixed martial arts, but ... they don't do it. For one thing, you can't find a song about football like this one:
Harpo Marx - Take Me Out to the Ball Game
POSTSCRIPT: Yeah, I know I said no more YouTubes never, but ... one can't hurt. And rules were made to be broken. Especially the rules I make.
But the fact remains, it is deep, dark meteorological winter (if not astronomical same), and baseball, baseball is what I miss.
The other sports don't do it. I'm not against football, basketball, hockey, or mixed martial arts, but ... they don't do it. For one thing, you can't find a song about football like this one:
Harpo Marx - Take Me Out to the Ball Game
POSTSCRIPT: Yeah, I know I said no more YouTubes never, but ... one can't hurt. And rules were made to be broken. Especially the rules I make.
Tuesday, December 09, 2008
Omigod omigod omigod ... I hope it's ... YES!!! Blago arrested!!! Thank you, Santa!!!
I don't want to let the Funnest News Day Ever® go by without a post, but I'm too damn excited (I feel like a kid on Christmas morning) to sort out my thoughts coherently ... so I'll just re-purpose an email from me to my mom, who prompted me thusly earlier this afternoon:
OK, email over.
There are also strong arguments, based on the time-line, that Candidate 5 is Jesse Jackson Jr. And also a case to be made that Rahm Emanuel discussed a bribe arrangement with Blagojevich involving the setup of a 501(c)4 lobbying organization (backed by Warren Buffett and Bill Gates) in exchange for Rahm's influence in selecting an interim replacement in the Illinois 5th Congressional District until a special election could be held. And ... probably many other bizarre and twisted cases.
Should keep us busy for a while.
> Your dad wants to know your reaction.
Well, I knew they were building a big case against him, but I'm surprised like everyone else about the extent of it, and the complete audacity of trying to blatantly sell the Senate seat.
The FBI's chief investigator on the case said that "even the most cynical agents were shocked," and I'm with them.
I took the day off, and I've been having fun watching all the coverage. I'm trying to guess who the pseudonyms in the complaint are -- Candidate 1 seems to be Valerie Jarrett. Candidate 6 is probably one of the Pritzkers. Speculation about Candidate 5 -- the one who allegedly offered half a million for the seat -- is that it's either Jesse Jr. or Emil Jones. My guess is Jones.
Another thing -- those Blagojeviches sure have filthy mouths. Every word word is "fuck." As in, "fuck him [Obama]," "fuck the Tribune and their Cubs deal," etc.
So far, Obama seems to have stayed out of the Senate appointment scandal, but there's a bunch of "pay-to-play" stuff in the complaint involving Tony Rezko. Now that Blagojevich is a caged animal, I would expect he will be looking to cut a deal and cough up whatever he has on Obama, if anything.
I really like the U.S. Attorney, Fitzgerald. He seems like a stand-up guy. I hope he has a chance to get Daley.
One more thing -- I'm almost certain that Rahm Emanuel is wrapped up in this somehow, but I'm not sure if he "dropped a dime" and tipped off the feds (Rahm seems to be "President Elect's Advisor A" in the complaint), or if he was the go-between on one of the proposed deals.
My personal guess right now is that he cooperated with the investigation. Blagojevich has very few friends, and I think Rahm was not happy that he was trying to push the Obama camp around.
Obama is already showing that he doesn't feel beholden to anyone he doesn't need anymore -- he had already pretty much turned his back on his former mentor, Emil Jones, because Jones is too much of a hot potato to have around -- too controversial and transparently sleazy.
Whatever anyone thinks about Obama, he has some remarkable skill at maneuvering in the Democratic Party. Five years ago, he was basically a nobody. The first time I heard of him was at a New Year's Eve party at the end of 2003. So I think he's got a lot of political smarts -- which is why I think he'd have Rahm help deep-six Blagojevich.
And that's also one reason why I think Candidate 5 is Emil Jones -- because the complaint says Obama didn't want Candidate 5, and Obama had made it known that he didn't want Jones in the job.
Obama wanted Valerie Jarrett -- Candidate 1 -- who seems to have withdrawn her name from consideration after it became clear that favors and/or money to the governor would be required.
It's all like a big mystery novel -- the biggest dream come true for politics junkies since Watergate. And I was too young to know what was going on back then.
OK, email over.
There are also strong arguments, based on the time-line, that Candidate 5 is Jesse Jackson Jr. And also a case to be made that Rahm Emanuel discussed a bribe arrangement with Blagojevich involving the setup of a 501(c)4 lobbying organization (backed by Warren Buffett and Bill Gates) in exchange for Rahm's influence in selecting an interim replacement in the Illinois 5th Congressional District until a special election could be held. And ... probably many other bizarre and twisted cases.
Should keep us busy for a while.
Saturday, December 06, 2008
Stronger Than Dirt’s Coping Strategies for 2009: Your Guide to Surviving the End of Life as We Know It: Part One
Now that it’s become abundantly clear that we are either in a full-blown economic depression or about to be in one, I thought I’d throw together a few tips for living (reasonably) decently while mired in a state of poverty. I’ve had some experience with that, and I’ve taken plenty of notes. I’m neither rich nor poor at the moment, but I have always lived well within my means, as a matter of compulsion ... and because I knew this train wreck was coming.
And it is coming. Do I look like I’m kidding? OK, don’t answer that.
I’m not kidding. I mean, I’m trying to be funny, but I’m dead serious. So, in an effort to give back a little bit to the online community that has given me so, so much, here are the first three items in what I foresee as a continuing series. Although, if I get a lot of hits for these -- as I believe I should -- I might have to start charging for future installments. Because even poor-living gurus have got to get paid.
And here they are. The advices you’ve been waiting for.
1. Do your homework. Read (or re-read) some John Steinbeck novels. Or even watch the movie adaptations. I suggest Grapes of Wrath and Of Mice and Men to start. They will generally orient you to the new bleak economic landscape and will help you grasp the awful reality of massive unemployment and the violent crackdowns that are sure to follow. Of course, in 2009, those crackdowns will be conducted by Blackwater mercenaries -- in severe cases, by the U.S. Army itself -- and resistance will be totally futile. Still, Steinbeck will prepare you for the abject helplessness, worthlessness, and despair that will dominate the zeitgeist next year, and probably indefinitely.
2. Get to know our friend, the cabbage. Cabbage is cheap and nutritious, and it keeps well. We’re going to be eating a lot of it in the coming months and years. It can be used in a wide variety of dishes, from salads to soups to side dishes to entrees. (I don’t know of any cabbage desserts off-hand, but ingenuity does tend to flower in hard times, so I could end up contributing a few to our national collective cookbook before we reach the other end of this fudgy tunnel.) You say you don’t like cabbage? Too fucking bad. The near future will be no time for picky eaters. Unless you are comfortable with starvation.
3. Make peace with your mom and dad. Or your inlaws, or your sons and daughters, depending on age and circumstance. Because many of us are going to be spending a lot more time with our ... ugh ... families after the shit hits what it's aimed at. Kids (even those of us in our early 40s) will be moving back in with the folks, or the folks will be moving in with the kids. This is really just a reversion to the way we used to live in this country as recently as a few generations ago -- actually, the way many people already do live. I made the mistake of generalizing. I’m talking about primarily white, middle-class, etc. etc. ... well, you know what I mean. Anyway, it’s a good news-bad news situation. The good news: Extended families will be back, along with all the mental health benefits that seem to accompany that arrangement. The bad news: Extended families will be back, along with all the mental illness that seems to accompany that arrangement.
And it is coming. Do I look like I’m kidding? OK, don’t answer that.
I’m not kidding. I mean, I’m trying to be funny, but I’m dead serious. So, in an effort to give back a little bit to the online community that has given me so, so much, here are the first three items in what I foresee as a continuing series. Although, if I get a lot of hits for these -- as I believe I should -- I might have to start charging for future installments. Because even poor-living gurus have got to get paid.
And here they are. The advices you’ve been waiting for.
STDPM’s First Three Preparedness Tips for the Imminent Catastrophe Threatening Your Doomed Asses and Your Doomed Asses’ Portfolios
1. Do your homework. Read (or re-read) some John Steinbeck novels. Or even watch the movie adaptations. I suggest Grapes of Wrath and Of Mice and Men to start. They will generally orient you to the new bleak economic landscape and will help you grasp the awful reality of massive unemployment and the violent crackdowns that are sure to follow. Of course, in 2009, those crackdowns will be conducted by Blackwater mercenaries -- in severe cases, by the U.S. Army itself -- and resistance will be totally futile. Still, Steinbeck will prepare you for the abject helplessness, worthlessness, and despair that will dominate the zeitgeist next year, and probably indefinitely.
2. Get to know our friend, the cabbage. Cabbage is cheap and nutritious, and it keeps well. We’re going to be eating a lot of it in the coming months and years. It can be used in a wide variety of dishes, from salads to soups to side dishes to entrees. (I don’t know of any cabbage desserts off-hand, but ingenuity does tend to flower in hard times, so I could end up contributing a few to our national collective cookbook before we reach the other end of this fudgy tunnel.) You say you don’t like cabbage? Too fucking bad. The near future will be no time for picky eaters. Unless you are comfortable with starvation.
3. Make peace with your mom and dad. Or your inlaws, or your sons and daughters, depending on age and circumstance. Because many of us are going to be spending a lot more time with our ... ugh ... families after the shit hits what it's aimed at. Kids (even those of us in our early 40s) will be moving back in with the folks, or the folks will be moving in with the kids. This is really just a reversion to the way we used to live in this country as recently as a few generations ago -- actually, the way many people already do live. I made the mistake of generalizing. I’m talking about primarily white, middle-class, etc. etc. ... well, you know what I mean. Anyway, it’s a good news-bad news situation. The good news: Extended families will be back, along with all the mental health benefits that seem to accompany that arrangement. The bad news: Extended families will be back, along with all the mental illness that seems to accompany that arrangement.
Meta: Now With Extra Twittiness
Because we at CBRAT World HQ® are nothing if not way into last year's online fads, we've added "Twitter Updates" to the sidebar (below the "Previous Posts" and above the "Archives" listing). You can also click the link to get twitty with STD Pete Moss, should you so desire.
Friday, December 05, 2008
Dahl downsized ... and not by Seattle Sutton
During my early adolescent years (right now being my "late, protracted, seemingly never gonna end" adolescence), which I'd peg roughly as 1979 through 1986 or so, I was an insane Coho-lipped follower of Chicago radio's El Jefe scumbag worm-meat idiot, Steve Dahl.
And aside from a few law-school-and-afterwards years in Champaign-Urbana when I couldn't pick up the signal (part of that time was the era of the amplitude modulation "Loop" on AM 1000 -- complete with Ed Schwartz overnights -- when I could tune it in, kind of weakly -- but when he was on FM, no way), I kept listening. There have been ups and downs (notable down: the ESPN 1000 phase, with Bruce Wolf, which was mostly a down because I was practicing law in Ottawa, Illinois, newly married, totally miserable, and catching only about 10 minutes of the show a day on the way to the second worst job I've ever had), but being generally nostalgic, I stuck with him. Sided with Dahl when Meier quit, bounced from station to station and time slot to time slot.
I lost a lot of enthusiasm during the moribund "Dave and Joy" years, but I thought the show picked up a lot of steam when Buzz Kilman took their place ... because Buzz Kilman is my personal hero. Guru, really. But I digress.
I've had problems with some of the twists and turns ... I was bummed when Wendy Snyder was fired, even though I got a ridiculous number of hits from blogging about it ... and I was never particularly interested in all the TV gadget coverage in latter years. But, by and large, some 20-plus years of listeningwas has been worth it. [Edit made because, dammit, he's not dead; just enduring another interruption in transmission.]
For one thing, Dahl is responsible for my cultivating interest in a bunch of fine songwriters, whose work I was aware of, but who I'd never have gotten to know as people so well without Dahl's show. Such as Harry Nilsson, Jimmy Webb, Brian Wilson, and Jim Peterik. Not to mention Joe Walsh.
Same thing with comedians -- Andy Kaufman and John Belushi were frequent guests on Dahl's show ... and Dahl's show was where I first heard about Belushi's death. His interview with Rick Moranis and Dave Thomas during their promotional tour for the "Bob and Doug" movie fit in perfectly with my SCTV fixation at the time.
Lately I've been more or less a casual listener, but in those "early adolescent" years, I was pretty well obsessed. I used to listen to the Steve & Garry show every day after school, from the moment I got home until sign-off at 7:00. I taped hours of the show on my crappy K-Mart tape machine, and listened to the tapes over and over. Celebrity Jeopardy (Ozzy Osbourne ... Marcus Palmer's "Omar Sadat" crack-up). Blues News. "Ayatollah" (and "We have no Chicken Kentucky!"). "Skylab." "Falklands."
In those WLS-FM (94.7) days, Steve & Garry were controversial for their irreverent, sometimes taste-questionable take on news events -- but, for me, the show was the first place I turned for much needed "coping through laughter" therapy when world tragedy struck. When the space shuttle blew up in 1986, Dahl was off the air at the time, between gigs, and I missed him.
When I say I was obsessed, I mean I was obsessed. When he and Garry did a remote broadcast from the "Snowshoe Saloon" at Six Flags Great America, I had a season pass to the park (just a couple miles down the road from my house), so I hung out and watched them do the entire show, like a miniature stalker. Still have my high school ID with Dahl's autograph on the back from that day.
I used to try to phone in a lot, but I could never get through. The show was hella popular then. It took effort. But I succeeded one time, on a Saturday -- Steve and Garry were still doing six days a week then -- when I was about 14. When I heard Dahl's voice on the other end, I felt a shock of realization that I didn't actually have anything to say, so I dived into my standard repertoire: bitching and moaning.
And I gave it a shot. I crooned most of the first verse before I screwed up. "See!" Dahl said. "You're not prepared yet!" And then they played the Go-Gos record. And after that, David Bowie & Queen's song, "Under Pressure," which Meier intro'd as "Under Glacier."
I have that on tape somewhere ... with a couple backup dubs, so I expect it still exists. Maybe I'll digitize it and find a way to post it ... if I can stand the embarrassment of my voice, which hadn't quite changed yet into the manly baritone it is today.
I played the tape later that evening for my mom, who still proudly tells people that "Steve Dahl called my son a smartass!"
Which is as good a punchline as any with which to wrap this up. Cuz CBS canned Dahl, and his last show was today. Heard it on the car radio on the way to the office this morning. He has a couple years left under contract, so he could be off the air for a while, but I know he'll be around in one medium or another, and I expect he'll be on the air again someday. Until then, thanks, Stever. Thanks muchly.
And aside from a few law-school-and-afterwards years in Champaign-Urbana when I couldn't pick up the signal (part of that time was the era of the amplitude modulation "Loop" on AM 1000 -- complete with Ed Schwartz overnights -- when I could tune it in, kind of weakly -- but when he was on FM, no way), I kept listening. There have been ups and downs (notable down: the ESPN 1000 phase, with Bruce Wolf, which was mostly a down because I was practicing law in Ottawa, Illinois, newly married, totally miserable, and catching only about 10 minutes of the show a day on the way to the second worst job I've ever had), but being generally nostalgic, I stuck with him. Sided with Dahl when Meier quit, bounced from station to station and time slot to time slot.
I lost a lot of enthusiasm during the moribund "Dave and Joy" years, but I thought the show picked up a lot of steam when Buzz Kilman took their place ... because Buzz Kilman is my personal hero. Guru, really. But I digress.
I've had problems with some of the twists and turns ... I was bummed when Wendy Snyder was fired, even though I got a ridiculous number of hits from blogging about it ... and I was never particularly interested in all the TV gadget coverage in latter years. But, by and large, some 20-plus years of listening
For one thing, Dahl is responsible for my cultivating interest in a bunch of fine songwriters, whose work I was aware of, but who I'd never have gotten to know as people so well without Dahl's show. Such as Harry Nilsson, Jimmy Webb, Brian Wilson, and Jim Peterik. Not to mention Joe Walsh.
Same thing with comedians -- Andy Kaufman and John Belushi were frequent guests on Dahl's show ... and Dahl's show was where I first heard about Belushi's death. His interview with Rick Moranis and Dave Thomas during their promotional tour for the "Bob and Doug" movie fit in perfectly with my SCTV fixation at the time.
Lately I've been more or less a casual listener, but in those "early adolescent" years, I was pretty well obsessed. I used to listen to the Steve & Garry show every day after school, from the moment I got home until sign-off at 7:00. I taped hours of the show on my crappy K-Mart tape machine, and listened to the tapes over and over. Celebrity Jeopardy (Ozzy Osbourne ... Marcus Palmer's "Omar Sadat" crack-up). Blues News. "Ayatollah" (and "We have no Chicken Kentucky!"). "Skylab." "Falklands."
In those WLS-FM (94.7) days, Steve & Garry were controversial for their irreverent, sometimes taste-questionable take on news events -- but, for me, the show was the first place I turned for much needed "coping through laughter" therapy when world tragedy struck. When the space shuttle blew up in 1986, Dahl was off the air at the time, between gigs, and I missed him.
When I say I was obsessed, I mean I was obsessed. When he and Garry did a remote broadcast from the "Snowshoe Saloon" at Six Flags Great America, I had a season pass to the park (just a couple miles down the road from my house), so I hung out and watched them do the entire show, like a miniature stalker. Still have my high school ID with Dahl's autograph on the back from that day.
I used to try to phone in a lot, but I could never get through. The show was hella popular then. It took effort. But I succeeded one time, on a Saturday -- Steve and Garry were still doing six days a week then -- when I was about 14. When I heard Dahl's voice on the other end, I felt a shock of realization that I didn't actually have anything to say, so I dived into my standard repertoire: bitching and moaning.
Me: Your station is so boring! I used to be an insomniac before I tuned in! You play the same songs over and over!
Dahl: Oh yeah? Well, we know something you don't--
Me: [interrupting] I'm surprised!
Dahl: You're a little smartass! Anyone ever tell you that? Now, just listen!
Me: OK.
Dahl: The reason we play those songs over and over is because the polar ice caps are expanding, and we're about to have another ice age. We're going to be buried under glaciers! Then there won't be any entertainment. Everything's going to be destroyed. The only thing to do for entertainment will be to sing songs ourselves. So we're doing you a service.
Me: [vague and twerpy protesting and scoffing]
Dahl (or Meier, I forget): OK, well, let's test you. Can you sing the Go-Gos, "Our Lips Are Sealed"?
Me: Yeah!
And I gave it a shot. I crooned most of the first verse before I screwed up. "See!" Dahl said. "You're not prepared yet!" And then they played the Go-Gos record. And after that, David Bowie & Queen's song, "Under Pressure," which Meier intro'd as "Under Glacier."
I have that on tape somewhere ... with a couple backup dubs, so I expect it still exists. Maybe I'll digitize it and find a way to post it ... if I can stand the embarrassment of my voice, which hadn't quite changed yet into the manly baritone it is today.
I played the tape later that evening for my mom, who still proudly tells people that "Steve Dahl called my son a smartass!"
Which is as good a punchline as any with which to wrap this up. Cuz CBS canned Dahl, and his last show was today. Heard it on the car radio on the way to the office this morning. He has a couple years left under contract, so he could be off the air for a while, but I know he'll be around in one medium or another, and I expect he'll be on the air again someday. Until then, thanks, Stever. Thanks muchly.
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