Brian's web home

National Hit Music Survey

2009-11-08T14:44:00.003-05:00

http://nationalhitmusicsurvey.podbean.com/

Michael Jackson, 1958-2009

2009-06-25T21:02:00.003-04:00

Despite his personal struggles and eccentricities, Michael Jackson was one of the most electrifying performers I've ever seen.

I am very sorry that he's gone. I was hoping he would make a successful comeback and thrill us all again.

So very sad.

Farrah, 1947-2009

2009-06-25T15:19:00.002-04:00

Simply beautiful.

Another legend has left us.

Ed McMahon, 1923-2009

2009-06-23T20:51:00.002-04:00

For more than 30 years, Ed McMahon was Johnny Carson’s television partner.
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I use the word “partner” because “sidekick” and “second banana” fail to do McMahon’s role justice. The Tonight Show starring Johnny Carson, and by extension Carson himself, were funnier and better because of Ed McMahon.

We salute the big guy with a heartfelt Hi-Yooooooo!

Waiting...

2009-06-08T10:58:00.003-04:00

I haven't blogged in a couple of months now. It's not for a lack of desire, but there could be sweeping changes blowing through here soon, and I don't want to mislead or misinform.
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So until I can spill the beans, we wait...
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Milli Vanilli: 20 years later

2009-04-04T09:09:00.004-04:00

Milli (left), and Vanilli

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In transferring music into my iPod I came across the Girl You Know It's True CD by Milli Vanilli. Remember them?
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For those who are too young to remember what happened, Milli Vanilli was a pop/dance project started by producer Frank Farian. The group was purported to consist of Rob Pilatus and Fabrice Morvan, two good-looking guys who could dance and sing at the same time. The music was very dance-oriented and the visual performances were great.
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Girl You Know It's True was a multi-format smash, and earned Milli Vanilli the Best New Artist award at the 1990 Grammys. Here's where it gets ugly: That Grammy was revoked when it was determined that Pilatus and Morvan didn't sing a note on that record.
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Bummer.
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So I sat at my desk looking at that CD and all that it represents. Deceit. Lies. Embarassment. Death. (Pilatus killed himself in 1998)...But above and beyond all that, the album still kicks ass. The beats, the vocals, the music and the whole package was slicker than eel shit at the time and it holds up today.
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I remember in November 1990 when Frank Farian confessed, I was programming a small Top 40 station in Atlanta. We were still playing the crap out of that record, particularly the single "Blame It On The Rain," and I had to make the decision whether or not to keep playing it. Other stations dropped Milli Vanilli like a hot potato, but it took me 15 seconds to make up my mind - We would continue to play the record. My reasoning was that we weren't deceiving our audience by playing them, they were newsworthy and topical, and the music was good and people liked it.
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So they stayed on, and eventually "Blame It On The Rain" became the Milli Vanilli "gold" track in our rotation (meaning a song that might still be played years after the song was new).
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I personally had sympathy for Rob and Fab. They took the most heat while Farian crept back into the shadows of the recording studio. The media took a collective dump on those two guys, who really only did what most of us might do given a similar proposition. Think about it: If some guy said to you, "Hey, you're good looking...I have this record and I need a face for it. You don't hve to sing a note, just go out there, look cute and lip-sync...Oh and here's several million dollars for your trouble." Wouldn't you do it?
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Girl, you know it's true.

My son's going to hell

2009-03-24T11:38:00.001-04:00

At least that's what his neighborhood friends told him.
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It has come to my attention that some neighborhood kids have told my 7-year-old son that he's not going to Heaven because he doesn't go to church.
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What an awful thing for a kid to say to another kid. It makes me wonder what other sorts of bullshit these youngsters might be trying to hammer into his young impressionable mind. He came home and asked his mother if it was true and of course she told him it wasn't and not to worry about it.
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And I told him to let those kids know that maybe he's not going to Heaven, but he's also not being cornholed by the youth minister.

The 'tards are mad at Obama

2009-03-21T11:18:00.002-04:00

Barack Obama scored a whopping 37 while bowling during a campaign stop last year. On The Tonight Show with Jay Leno, the Prez boasted that he had been practicing and recently bowled a 129. Of his earlier game he quipped, "It was like Special Olympics or something."
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So now the Special Olympics people are brewing a fondue in their shorts over Obama's joke.
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I went to Google and typed in "special olympics bowling champion" and found that their reigning champ averages 266 a game!
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So really, what Obama should have said was, "I bowl worse than a really good retard bowler."

Presidential stuff

2009-01-24T15:35:00.009-05:00

Obama's big moment

I was able to catch the inauguration of President Obama live in the breakroom at work. While I don't believe that a president can do much more than set a tone and a public agenda for the country (leaving the actual heavy lifting to the palm-greasing, crooked congress, who only acts in its own best interests), I do think that Obama is an interesting person and may wake a few people up so they notice the graft and corruption that is rampant in the government. I hope so, otherwise we as a country are screwed.

It's too bad that Chief Justice John Roberts attended the Dubya School of Reading and Enunciation. He botched Obama's big moment.
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The "Reverend" Joseph Lowery

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What a shitass. Lowery's lines "… we ask you to help us work for that day when black will not be asked to get back, when brown can stick around … when yellow will be mellow … when the red man can get ahead, man …and when white will embrace what is right" were written from the bigoted mindset of the old black guard that can't let go of the past. Dr. Martin Luther King's dream was about a time when we wouldn't see color anymore (which is now as far as I can tell) and yet this old fool Lowery is trying to turn back the clock to a time when he was relevant. He should be ashamed of himself and in the future keep his fucking mouth shut.
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For the record, I think the best way to put bigotry and racism behind us is to stop talking about it, and instead deal with bigots and discrimination on an individual basis.

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Jimmy Carter is a sad case too

It's bad enough that we're obligated to trot out that tired old gubbah Jimmy Carter everytime something noteworthy happens in this country, but even worse is that we Georgians get treated to exclusive interviews with the incompetent hick. When will the Atlanta media stop licking Carter's hiney? He was a horrible president and embarrassed Georgia with his ineptitude!
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Beyonce, I am ready for your jelly
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Beyonce was stunningly beautiful at the inaugural ball, and she sounded great too. I like her. She oozes class. (Sometimes I ooze something else when I see her.)
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The future of the Bush crime family

President Obama's inaugural speech was a rehash of what he's already told us: We're in the crapper and there are more tough times ahead but we will get through this together. We will have to be patient. The Racketeer left a real mess behind. He should have enough sense to vanish now, but his foolish pride probably won't let him. Let's all hope to God that Obama does a good job, because I hear Jeb Bush is threatening to run for president in 2012, and the wacko Bible-thumping right probably won't die off enough in the next four years to stop him from making a decent showing. Just what we need, another oil man in the White House.
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Sean "Douchebag" Hannity

Sean Hannity has sepnt every show since November 4th attempting to denigrate Obama, and he hadn't even taken the Oath of Office yet. Sean Hannity is not a great American. He is a great big un-American douchebag. (You might ask why I listen...Well, the only news station in town that has a decent signal has Hannity on in the afternoons so I hear about three minutes of his show per day waiting for the headlines. If someone would sign on an all-news station, I wouldn't have to be subjected to him at all.)

"Gran Torino"

2009-01-19T11:48:00.003-05:00

All I can say is that if you haven't seen this movie, you are doing yourself a huge disservice. This may be Clint Eastwood's finest picture, and he's made a bunch.

The poor, pitiful music industry

2008-05-28T19:26:00.005-04:00

The music industry continues to howl and cry poverty when it comes to the declining sales of compact discs.
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I have no sympathy for them, since they brought this problem on themselves with one boneheaded decision: Killing off the single.
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For all you kiddies out there who have no idea what a "single" was, it was one song pressed onto a small vinyl record that you could buy instead of having to shell out the big bucks for the whole album. Adults bought albums. Kids didn't have that kind of money, so we bought singles.
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So when I was a kid, if I heard a song on the radio that I really liked, I'd head to Turtles or Richway and buy the single. Singles were $1.69, as opposed to the $10 or more you'd pay for the LP or cassette. This was the way it was done since the 1950s.
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Then all hell broke loose.
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First, cassette tapes began outselling LPs because every car built after 1983 had a cassette player in it. Your music, where you wanted it, when you wanted it. What could be cooler? To keep up, record companies began issuing singles in cassette form (the "cassette single," or, "cassingle"), and by 1990 the vinyl single was on the way out. But by 1990, compact discs were the primary method of buying albums, and so we saw a smattering of CD singles.
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But not for long.
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By the time CD singles came along, the major record labels had figured out that it cost about $2 to produce a CD of any kind, whether it had two songs on it or 12. And they could charge more for 12. So they abandoned CD singles, cassette singles, vinyl singles, all singles. POOF! Gone. You want a song? Buy the $15 album. Can't afford it? Tough noogies.
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The music industry thought there was no alternative and that we would be forced to buy albums on CD from then on. The consumers who stopped buying recorded music altogether were made up for by the ridiculous profit margin of selling a CD that cost $2 to make for $15.99, as opposed to the LP or cassette that cost the same to produce but could only be sold for $8-$10. They talked up how superior the sound of CDs was compared to LPs and cassettes and justified their profits by claiming that they were providing a better-sounding product. And it worked from about 1991 to 1998...
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Then came the internet. Uh-oh.
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Soon enough, people found that CDs were easily copied onto a computer and could be traded for free, song by song. This opened the door for Napster and a million other file-sharing sites that allowed people to download only the songs they wanted. For free!
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And at that point, the revolution began and continues to this day, in the form of lower revenues for record labels and tons of free music floating around. The only real victim here is the poor artist, who was screwed by the very system he was forced into when he became a contracted musician. How was he to know that his employer's greed would eventually bite him and his fellow musicians on the ass?
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I believe that, if the single had never gone away and that if the generation that followed me had been brought up with the single as a way of getting just the songs they wanted, Napster and file-sharing never would have taken hold of the music industry the way that it did. Most people are decent and want to do the right thing and they wouldn't have thought twice about paying a couple of bucks for a song they liked, just like I never minded paying for music because I knew no other way of getting it. But in the absence of a cost-effective, legal avenue, consumers (who are smarter than they are generally given credit for) made their own way, and I can't blame them.
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It's cost the record industry a fortune just to try and keep up as they lay billions into iTunes and strike deals with their artists to license individual tracks to Amazon for 99 cents each.

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All because they got greedy and decided to kill the single.

George W. The Racketeer and the price of gas

2008-05-24T09:30:00.007-04:00

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With gas hovering around $4.00 a gallon for the cheap grade, it's long past time where under normal circumstances, the government would have stepped in and done something.
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Anyone who has ever discussed with me the issue of government price control knows that normally I don't believe in government influence on prices whatsoever, but the price of gas is already being affected by the government in the form of a crooked administration that is heavily invested in the oil industry. And Bush and his oil racketeer buddies have been negligent in building the refineries needed to process oil into gas. On purpose. And now they have it the way they want it: We pump more money into their pockets without the oil companies having to invest in those pesky, expensive refineries and the workers required to run them. Pretty slick, huh?
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"If we charge it, the sheep will pay it. Baaaaahhhh. Baaaaaaaaahhh."

So you can forget the government stepping in at least for the next few months. Expect fuel costs to remain high and for the welfare of families to be impacted, not only via the per-gallon price of gas, but also by the trickle-down effect on food prices, the struggling airline, vacation and hospitality industries, and people cutting all unnecessary travel, right down to dining out and going to shows and movies.

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And when we cut back, what happens? Corporations see their profits and dividends dwindle, and they start cutting production, laying off workers and closing factories. One doesn't need to be a Rhodes Scholar to figure out that if things don't change very soon, we're screwed with a capital F (thanks for that one, Donald).
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I have two solutions:
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Solution #1: We've paid over $500 billion to fund the Iraq Quagmire, with no end in sight. I think it's time we declare that the United States now owns the Iraqi oilfields and that effective immediately, gas will be sold at 99 cents a gallon. Period. And any country that doesn't like it can do two things: 1) Nothing, and 2) Like it. Really, screw everybody else. What's the good in being the world's only superpower if we can't tell the rest of civilization to fuck off every now and then?
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Solution #2: Remember that the Second Amendment (the right to bear arms) was added to the Constitution not to protect us from each other, but to protect us all from an overreaching, corrupt Federal Government. So let's revolt and hold Bush and his Oil Cronies in Washington responsible. Grab your lanterns and pitchforks, people. Mobilize. Take this country and the control of its destiny back from the career politicians and special interest groups and return it to the trust of honorable men and women who would serve for the love of this once-great nation and not for their individual power and profit.
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We have to do something fast. We're running out of time.

"RICO! RICO! RICO!"

HDTV, my new girlfriend, vacation...

2008-05-19T17:45:00.006-04:00

HD television
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We finally went big-screen a few weeks ago and bought a 42" Vizio LCD TV. I must admit that now I'm so spoiled it's not even funny. I also upgraded my satellite package to HD and watched a rerun of the Super Bowl that day. Since then, I've tended to avoid channels that aren't in HD because they look so crappy on the big screen.
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I've found that the shows that look best in HD are sports of any kind (I found myself watching NBA basketball one afternoon), local news, The Weather Channel (and any radar/graphics of any kind), and the nighttime Price is Right is unreal.
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What disappointed me somewhat was when I plugged in my old DVD player and found the picture to be really grainy and bad. So I went out shopping for one of those HD-upconverting players that takes standard discs and upgrades the signal to near-HD quality. The players are around $50, but what they don't tell you is that the HDMI cable to connect the player to the TV is another $50! Not to worry, though, I looked online and bought that same $50 cable for $4.98 plus shipping through OutletPC.com, forcing Best Buy and Circuit City to bite my ass. $50 for a $5 cable is highway robbery and they should be ashamed of themselves!
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So now I'm all set for another spectacular season of Atlanta Falcons football. Too bad USA Today picked them 32nd out of 32 teams this year.
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The lovely Robin Meade
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Every morning I turn on CNN Headline News, but not to check out the latest news headlines, sports scores or weather. No, no no… I only tune in to ogle Robin Meade. This creature is by far the best-looking woman on national television today. I mean, there are good-looking women, there are great-looking women, and there are drop-dead gorgeous women. And then there's Robin. She's brunette, has flawless skin, a great figure, and long, curvy legs that the director and cameramen seem to enjoy focusing on a lot. And yet, for all of her physical attributes, Robin is not afraid to cackle loudly when something strikes her funny or make a sarcastic aside when need be. She seems as though she would be approachable and a nice person to hang out and have drinks with. (Robin, if you're reading this, prove me right and e-mail me. Drinks at the place and time of your choosing are on me.
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My new TV mistress

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Vacation
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Between my day job, the DJ business, the missus's enterprises and the kids' appointments/parties/social engagements, I gotta get the hell outta here for a while. So I'm unplugging everything at the end of June and heading to Myrtle Beach for a week of relaxation, bikinis and beer.
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Anytime I travel, I pack a small Sony digital radio and research and listen online to the stations I'll hear when I get there. Of particular interest to me is WWXM/Mix 97.7, their 100,000-watt blowtorch CHR station. What I've heard so far sounds really good, like a beach-located Top 40 should sound. It'll sound even better when it's all compressed and processed and coming through my headphones while my fat, happy ass is lying on the beach with the hot sun beating down on me, the smell of Coppertone in my nose, an ice-cold Corona in my hand and young, tan, bikini-clad girls all around. Hell, anything is better with bikini-clad college girls around.
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Top tunes
Rihanna, Take a Bow
Madonna f/ Justin Timberlake, 4 Minutes
Leona Lewis, Bleeding Love
Miley Cyrus, See You Again
Duffy, Mercy

Divorce...

2008-04-24T20:25:00.006-04:00

It's official: American Idol and I have divorced.

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I can no longer watch the show and consider it a legitimate talent competition when Jason Castro and his smug pandering and ridiculous eyebrows is allowed to continue, while arguably the season's best vocalist, Carly Smithson, was sent to the showers (although that visual is quite nice).

Carly: Idol's best singer and hottest chick.

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The cracks in the American Idol fortress were beginning to show last season, when that little Sanjaya and his ever-changing hair and lack of talent kept getting voted through while other, more talented people were dropping like flies. I thought Danny Noriega was going to become Sanjaya 2, but happily he was eliminated fairly early on after the show took a well-deserved pounding in the media.

My hope for a down-and-dirty singing competition (like seasons 1 and 6) had been evaporating steadily week by week as Jason Castro and his "leer at the girls and make then squish" mannerisms hung on. Now, Castro the hack has outlasted the incredible Carly, for no other reason than teenyboppers are keeping his talentless ass afloat.

So now that American Idol is a popularity contest among teenage girls and not the singing competition that it once was, I can say that I am finished with it outright.

I've gained two more free hours a week as a result.

Gubbamint at its finest

2008-03-27T18:12:00.004-04:00

Here's a story that's a prime example of how this country is going to hell in a brown paper bag.
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From $70K to food bank
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By Thelma Gutierrez and Wayne Drash
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ALTADENA, California (CNN) -- When she was laid off in February, Patricia Guerrero was making $70,000 a year. Weeks later, with bills piling up and in need of food for her family, this middle-class mother did something she never thought she would do: She went to a food bank.
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Guerrero is estranged from her husband and raising her two young children. She's already burned through her savings to help make ends meet, and is drawing unemployment checks. She has had to take extreme measures to pay for her interest-only mortgage of $2,500 a month. In fact, her mother moved in with her to help pay the bills.
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Guerrero even applied for food stamps, but was denied.
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"I never used the system. I've been working since I was 15-and-a-half. I needed it now and it turned me down," she said.
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Read that last part again. She never used the system, has worked all of her adult life, and when she needs help, the federal gubbamint turns her down for food stamps. All the while Bush and his oil cronies are getting richer ($4 a gallon gas, anyone?), the housing market continues to crash and burn but the CEOs of these sub-prime lenders are walking away with multi-million dollar payouts, and we all continue to get screwed right up the ass.
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This land is your land. And you can have it if this is the way it's going to be.

Atlanta homeowner 1, predator 0

2008-03-21T06:53:00.009-04:00

Tornadoes, rising gas prices, the Neverending War...Is there any good news anymore?

Hell yes there is! Jynard Marshall is dead.

Marshall signed his own death certificate Tuesday night when he decided to break in to Robert Jenkins' home in northeast Atlanta. Jenkins' home is now classified as a Predator Motel: They check in, but they don't check out.

Jenkins, age 81, and his wife Peggy had gone to bed when they heard a noise in the house. They soon realized that someone had broken in, and Mr. Jenkins went to the closet to get his gun.

Robert Jenkins: American Hero

Heading into the kitchen, Jenkins found Jynard Marshall, age 25, wearing nothing but his underwear.

This is where it gets good.

"He said, 'give me that gun' and started at me, so I put a round in him right then,'" Jenkins told WSB-TV.

Meanwhile Peggy was dialing 911: "I heard pow! I told the operator, and she said 'stay on the line,' and I said 'no, I can't stay on the line.' Then I heard another pow."

The 6 foot, 225 pound waste of skin Marshall fell on top of Jenkins. Marshall continued attacking Jenkins until he died. I hope his last minutes were extremely painful.

Says my hero Jenkins, "I don't feel good about killing anybody, but I'm glad I did because it was us or him."

Police said Jenkins won't face charges since the shooting was self-defense. Well, no shit Sherlock. Why does this statement even need to be made?

Jenkins said that he would keep a loaded gun nearby at all times in the event that some idiot decides to retaliate. Personally, I hope he can bag another half-dozen of these genetic-defectives. No limit for Robert Jenkins!

Jynard Marshall was inexplicably paroled by the city of Atlanta in March 2005, about a year before the expiration of a two-year sentence for robbery by force and possession of cocaine. I say if we could guarantee a similar fate to all these misfits of society sitting in prison, then let's swing those gates open and let 'em free!
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Rot in hell Jynard!

Jynard Marshall: Deservedly dead.

Updates...

2008-03-16T11:36:00.008-04:00

Hey y'all. I'm still here, just busy, 'at's all.
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I thought I'd check in with an update as to what's happening around these parts...
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DJ bidness: Quite frankly, I'm busy as a one-legged man at an ass-kicking contest. Work is busting out all over the place. I'm not complaining, though. The extra money is nice to have. We'll use it on a nice vacation later this year to someplace with palm trees and bikinis.
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Social engagements: I don't have a lot of time these days for socializing, but at the end of February, a bunch of us radio geeks gathered at Manuel's Tavern to talk about how we'd do everything better than the guys on the air and in charge. We had a great time, and it also gave Art and me a chance to meet up earlier in the day for pizza at Savage Pizza in Little Five Points.
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I also finally met a lovely young lady named September Day. We'd been e-mailing for a while, so when the Radio-Info get together happened, I invited her. September is a successful voiceover artist who you heard on the most recent MTV Video Music Awards Show. Here's her website. She's an awesome person, and someone that I hope will be a lifetime friend.
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Southside Steve from Rock 100.5 also came to our party. It was great to meet him, and he was very informative and knows the radio game inside and out. Gary Lewis (market manager) and Rob Roberts (Q100 PD) from Cumulus Atlanta also came along, and I was very happy to shake their hands and personally thank them for putting an end to 99X.

Southside Steve and me at Manuel's Tavern

Tornadoes: Enough of this shit already. High winds, blinding rain, ice-cube size hailstones. Knock it off! My son Brandon and I were in the truck Saturday afternoon on our way out of "Horton Hears a Who" (excellent movie) when the hail started. We blew into high gear and got under the entrance overhang at the Hampton Inn until the coast was clear. His comment? "I nearly crapped my pants!" Me too, buddy.
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What's interesting on the radio:
Rihanna, Don't Stop The Music
Sara Bareilles, Love Song
OneRepublic, Stop and Stare
Flo Rida, Low
Buckcherry, Sorry

TV and radio meteorologists suck

2008-01-21T20:57:00.001-05:00

If you are on television or radio and your responsibility is to forecast the weather, you are no longer a "meteorologist."

You are an actor.
You are paid to stand in front of a chroma-key in an empty suit.
You change your forecasts frequently, then play back the one that was correct to say "I told you so."
You are there to get me to "stay tuned," or at the very least, "check back with us frequently for updates."

If the floppy shoes and the big, red nose fit, wear 'em, because henceforth you are officially a "Weather Clown."
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Better than celebrity sleaze, wars, sports news and killings, television news directors know that the weather can be depended on to get people to tune in. It affects us every day, and we want to know ahead of time what we'll be dealing with as we drive into work.
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Send in the Weather Clowns.
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When I woke up this past Saturday morning, I flipped on the TV to have the Weather Clown Nation tell me that I could expect 3 to 4 inches of sleet and snow, maybe even up to seven inches! Naturally, I was instructed to "stay tuned for the 12 and 6 o'clock news to stay informed," but that was really unnecessary since one station went all snow, all day and kept the morning newscast on well into the afternoon, only stopping when it became painfully obvious that everything was melting the second it hit the ground.
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Send in the Weather Clowns.
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If you want to get away from these panic artists, bookmark the National Weather Service forecast page for your area. Their home page is here. I have found them to be about 80 percent right, which is about twice as good as the average Weather Clown.

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And where are the clowns?

Quick send in the clowns,

Don't bother, they're on TV and radio.
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What's in my mp3 player?

Alicia Keys, No One
Sara Bareliies, Love Song
Jordin Sparks, Tattoo
Fergie, Clumsy
Matchbox Twenty, How Far We've Come

SEPARATED AT BIRTH?

Styx tribute band's James Young (left) and Eileen Brennan

99X: Good riddance!

2008-01-12T17:35:00.001-05:00

This weekend the news broke that Atlanta's much ballyhooed "alternative" music station, 99X(crement), will finally bite the dust in the wee hours of January 25 and be replaced by its sister station, Top 40 Q100. In the process, Q will go from 12,500 watts at 100.5 to 96,600 watts on 99.7, increasing their signal eight-fold.>

October 26, 1992 - January 25, 2008

Good riddance to this piece of shit

Not being the type of guy to let the opportunity to dance on the grave of that awful, dirty, negative "genre" (fad) of flannel-wearing, unbathed, nasty drug addicts and their shitty "music," I offer a hearty laugh and fart goodbye to Rick Stacy's mistake, made October 26, 1992 when he flipped Top 40 Power 99 to 99X, leaving Atlanta without a true Top 40 station for nearly eight years.

March 5, 1986 - October 26, 1992

Still fondly remembered as the southeastern United States' #1 CHR station

January 23, 2001 - present
Finally getting the signal it deserves, and bringing Top 40 music back to 99.7

Let’s hope 2008 is half as much fun

2007-12-30T19:46:00.000-05:00

Barack Obama showed race pimps Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson that good common sense and speaking on issues that affect all Americans is the way for anyone, regardless of race, to stand a chance of getting elected President, not whoring out their race for their own political gain.
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Bob Barker retired, Drew Carey took over on The Price is Right, and the show was better for it.
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"Next one of you to call me Bob is getting one right in the nuts!">

I stopped eating meat entirely (yes, including bacon) and 15 pounds immediately disappeared. My cholesterol hit an all-time low of 145 and my blood sugar is normal at last.
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Britney Spears continued her public crash and burn, her underage sister turned up preggers, Vanessa Hudgens showed the world her shrub and Lindsay Lohan got sober and started growing her tatas back.
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Star 94, once Atlanta’s dominant pop station, sunk to such depths that legendary morning host Steve McCoy was shown the door.
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“The Heartbreak Kid” was the funniest movie of the year.
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Rachael Ray remained my biggest celebrity crush. I even told the girls at my local Dunkin Donuts to call me if she happened in.
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Few fans know that Rachael suffers from the condition known as Shiny Nipple Disorder

I reconnected with my buddy Doug. We shall not disconnect again, my friend.
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Michael Vick proved to be nothing but a piece of human filth. Noted liar, asshole, turncoat and failed Falcons head coach Bobby ("Booby") Petrino is no better. Rick McKay is the worst GM currently employed in the NFL and the mastermind behind the Falcons fall from mediocre to godawful.
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The missus and I visited New York City for the first time and are rarin’ to go back as soon as possible.
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“Apologize” by OneRepublic was the best record of the year, followed closely by Rihanna’s “Umbrella” (ella, ella, eh-eh-eh)…

If she were attractive, Rihanna would really be going places

American Idol became stale and boring as hell to watch, despite crowning the cutest winner since Kelly Clarkson.
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I lived another 365 days.

Coffee!

2007-11-13T10:21:00.000-05:00

Ahhhh, coffee! That wonderful elixir that I practically live on from October to March. There’s just nothing like it. Everywhere I go, there it is.
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But that’s not to say that all coffee is brewed equally. Oh no, some is good, some is great, and some of it downright sucks. As a public service, I offer to you the best coffee in town.
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Starbucks: The king of all coffee joints, and the most expensive, too. A cup of regular java will set you back a full $2, but it’s so good you won’t really care all that much. I always get the high-test (caffeinated) whatever-it-is-they’re-brewing-that-day. Sulawesi, Café Verona, House Blend, whatever, just gimme a Grande! Try an espresso brownie if you want to stay awake until 2013.
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IHOP: This might just be my favorite coffee of them all. Royal Cup produces this special blend and it is incredible. Using IHOP’s small-sized coffee mugs, I take two creamers and two sweeteners and that makes it just right. That they bring the whole damn pot and leave it just adds to my warm and mushy feelings for this great cup o’ joe.
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McDonald’s: A real sleeper here. If you are deprived and don’t have a Starbucks near you, then surely you must have a McDonalds! Mickey D’s has a great cup of their Premium Roast java (made by F. Gavina & Sons, Inc.) waiting for you. The large is $1.39. It’s a sort of bitter roast that sweetens up nicely with minimal sugar. A couple of creamers and you’re on your way.
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Waffle House: Their coffee is way more bitter than McDonald’s but is just what one needs when one is drunk, stood-up, hung-over or having a waffle and some greasy-ass hash browns. The only drawback is that the coffee wakes you up to the point where you notice that the waitress only has three good teeth in her head --- and she wants to take you home with her for some red-hot gummin' and lovin'.
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Dunkin’ Donuts: America Runs on Dunkin, and they do so on a caffeinated high unlike any other coffee on this list. THIS STUFF IS STRONG. And good! A toasted bagel with cream cheese makes it even better. And the nice people at Dunkin’ even put the cream and sugar in it for you.
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Olive Garden: What a deal! Order coffee at the OG and they bring you a stainless steel carafe and milk in a dainty little dispenser. And the cup comes with a saucer! I felt like King Shit from Turd Mountain as I enjoyed my freshly-brewed Caffe la Toscana with my fettuccini. I even extended my pinky finger as I sipped so everyone could see how damn classy I am.

New York coffee: If you're in New York and you're having coffee, it's automatically good coffee. That's just the New York Coffee Rule. You're in the coolest city on the planet. Therefore, the coffee is good. I can't explain it, it's just the way it is.

Home-brewed coffee: When I make it, it usually tastes like shit, so I let the missus do it. One of these days I’ll figure out how to make it where the spoon doesn’t dissolve in the cup.

Now, a disclaimer: Here's a pic of me in a diner in NYC. I was trying to make my "cwaffee face," as in, "I'm havin' cwaffee!" I have taken many ugly pictures in my day, and this one certainly is the ugliest.

Just to be fair, Kim's appears below mine. So there!

"Hey! Can I get some more cwaffee over here?"

"No ya asshole, I got da last of it!"

"The Price Is Right"

2007-10-22T15:48:00.001-04:00

The new season of The Price Is Right kicked off on Monday, October 15. Because this was a season of major changes for the show, I thought I would offer my humble opinions on how the 36th season is shaping up thus far.

The biggest change, of course, is the host. Drew Carey has finally taken over for Bob Barker, and if the first ten shows are any indication (yes, I've watched all ten), CBS and FremantleMedia made the right choice. Drew is relaxed, always pulling for the contestant, sometimes giggly-silly, and is looking more and more at ease in his new role each day. His only downside is that he tends to stumble over the mechanics of some of the games and rushes to commercials a bit too quickly. But remember, the only guy we have to compare Drew to did the job for 35 years. In time, the rough spots will smooth out and Drew will be a master of the game. Grade: B and improving.

The set was also overhauled, and the game show community was really sweating this one out. How much will they change it? Will it even look like the Price Is Right that we all grew up on? Adding fuel to the fire was rumors that new executive producer Syd Vinnedge (from Fremantle, responsible for screwing up new versions of several classic Mark Goodson-Bill Todman formats in recent years) wanted to change the set to resemble that of American Idol (also Fremantle). The news was all good, however, because the show is still staged the classic way: Three Big Doors (shaped up and painted differently); the same Contestants’ Row set piece from the Barker era; and the elevated turntable (virtually unchanged, save for new colors). So it still looks like The Price Is Right. Very 70s. Grade: A
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The models: Still rotating from a pool of Lanisha Cole, Gabrielle Tuite, Phire Dawson, Brandi Sherwood, Gwendolyn Osborne, and Rachel Reynolds. The difference now is that they are no longer referred to collectively as “Barker’s Beauties,” but rather are mentioned by name and frequently thanked and complimented by Drew. Grade: B. Pick the best three and hire them permanently, ala Janice, Dian and Holly.

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Overall, the show gets a B+ from me. I’ll review it again later in the season after Drew’s been on the job a few months.

New York City

2007-10-16T10:08:00.000-04:00

I don’t know where to start! What a great weekend, and probably the most enjoyable trip I’ve been on in the last 15 years.
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To backtrack as to why we went to NYC in the first place, my wife wrote a fiction piece that was published in the Bellevue Literary Review. I asked one of the editors how many submissions they got and how many actually got in the magazine, and the numbers are over 3,000 and 80. This is prestigious, big stuff! So when they asked her to come up and read a portion at their kickoff dinner at the hospital, she jumped at it.
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We flew in early Saturday afternoon and took a cab to our hotel, the Murray Hill Inn. The hotel is a converted brownstone, and our third-floor room was small, but new and very clean and very secure. The staff was super-friendly too. I recommend this hotel if you’re going to the city to sightsee and not planning on hanging out in your hotel room all day. After all, New York f-in City is out there! Go hit the streets! And that is exactly what we did.
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Heading west and north, we walked to Times Square, with stops at the Empire State Building, the New York Public Library, Christie’s and Grand Central Station. For lunch, we stopped in at the Soup Man (the “Soup Nazi” guy from Seinfeld’s restaurant) and took our soup to Bryant Park to watch the people go by. We both had the crab bisque and it was hot and delicious! Then we started heading back to our hotel with many stops at the shops and street merchants, and lots of coffee and hot dogs.

Old farts in Times Square

Oh, man, the hot dogs! Every blessed block there’s a hot dog stand. I had already devoured two Sabretts when I saw the famous Papaya Dog on 42nd. Do you think that stopped me? Of course not!! So that’s three hot dogs along with the bisque. Add the coffee and I’m feeling all warm and happy inside.
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We took a quick tour around Korea town and then went back to the hotel so we could rest our feet. After sunset we headed out again, this time staying closer to the hotel. We checked out the fruit stands, watched the pizza makers do their thing and send their parcels out via bicycle, and witnessed the endless parade of taxis whizzing by.
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Sunday morning we hit the ground running, stopping in at the Moonstruck for a bite and coffee. Then we walked over to Bellevue to case the joint and explore the Kip’s Bay area. We stopped in for a coffee and then went over to the Borders, then decided to take a cab up to NBC. So much history has happened in that building, including the first 10 years of The Tonight Show starring Johnny Carson. Just knowing that the big JC himself had roamed those corridors was awe-inspiring to me.

Waiting for Carson...

Next, we found ourselves in the middle of Battery Park and Culture Fest 2007, where there was plenty to eat and buy. It was an amalgamation of every culture you could imagine, and everyone was very friendly and having a great time. We stopped by Radio City Music Hall, Simon & Schuster and Christie’s, then headed into Rosie O’ Grady’s. The missus had the filet and I had the best sea scallops I’ve ever had. WOW!!
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The evening ended with the reading at Bellevue, the oldest public hospital in the United States, dating back to 1736. Four contributors read their pieces or parts thereof. All four did great, and my Kim was very well received and complimented. She has more reason to be proud: Not only did she get in the review against long odds, but she also received accolades for the story and her reading. She hasn’t done much public speaking, but you sure wouldn’t have known it Sunday night. Bravo!!

Monday morning we sat outside over a meal of pancakes and bacon and watched the city come to life with schoolchildren and commuters trying to get where they needed to be. Then it was back to the taxi and LaGuardia and the flight home.

Now, Atlanta officials, read this a hundred times: As much as we walked the streets, never once did we feel threatened or unsafe. I’ll take the streets of NYC over Atlanta a million to one. NYC is the way a big city is supposed to operate and coming back to inept, backward, nasty, bush-league Atlanta only underscored that.

So, on behalf of the missus and myself, thank you New York City for a magical weekend. It did Kim a world of good from a career standpoint and also helped us as a couple. We felt like we were on our honeymoon!

We will be back!!

Clark 1, asshole truck driver 0

2007-08-01T10:55:00.000-04:00

"Sorry about that. My portable meth cooker tipped over in the front seat."

Monday morning was just like any other day as I hit the road on the way to Wonderful Widgets. The sky was clear, the radio had the latest on Michael "Ookie" Vick and the smell of McDonald's delicious biscuits wafted thru my truck as I hit the right lane to get on the freeway.
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As I approached the end of the entrance lane, I could see an 18-wheeler in the far-right lane (the one I needed to move over into). I looked again, and the middle lane was clear. I thought, "He'll move over in a second or two."
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Wrong!
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Ignoring my presence in the merging lane, the empty middle lane and the rule of law, this fucking dirty meth addict did NOT move over. Oh, hell no! He stayed in the right lane, right where and when I needed to be there. So I ended up stopping dead away in the emergency lane next to the guardrail until the douchebag passed.
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My wife and friends will tell you that I have been complaining about these nasty, inconsiderate sons of bitches for years, but on Monday morning, it became much more than just complaining. It was time for action. I could have been killed!
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So what did I do? I hit the accelerator, caught up with this crackhead and wrote down his truck number. Then I pulled along beside him and shook my notepad at him, as if to say, "Yeah, motherfucker! I just wrote your truck number down and I'm going to report your sorry ass!"

Then, as soon as I got to work, I went to the trucking company's website and found the e-mail address of their Director of Safety. After identifying myself and where and when the incident occurred, I wrote:
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I encountered this moron at exit about 7:30 this morning. I was trying to enter the interstate and this guy didn't move over a lane so I could merge into traffic. So I ended up at a dead stop in the emergncy lane next to the guardrail.
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There was plenty of room for him to merge, too. He just didn't.
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After lunch, I had not received any response, so I went back to the website and forwarded my original e-mail to the same Director of Safety, along with exactly 11 other company employees (including the president!), and added this to the top:
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As you can probably tell, I don't take very kindly to being placed in danger as I drive to work. I want to know if this idiot will be dealt with.
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Not 30 minutes later, I received this response from the Director of Safety:
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I have reviewed your email and have identified the tractor. I have spoken to the driver and he doesn't recall anything but normal heavy Atlanta traffic. He will be required to attend a Safety Training class within 7 days. I am sorry this happened, and thank-you for bringing it to our attention.
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Ha ha HAAAA!!! So I got the guy in trouble! I'm only sorry he didn't get fired. Fucking asshole!
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So I will close by saying this: Tractor trailer drivers, this is your formal notice. If you're driving like a dick and I see you, you can rest assured that I will be writing down your truck information and reporting your sorry ass to your managers in hopes that you get fired.
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Clark 1, asshole truck driver 0. Batting 1.ooo, baby!!

Bob Barker

2007-05-17T21:33:00.000-04:00

The end of an era is approaching.

Three weeks from today (as I write this), the final contestant will be called to “Come on down!” on The Price is Right and have Bob Barker standing onstage to greet them. Bob is retiring from the show after 35 years and 50 years in weekday daytime TV.

To me this news is huge, easily as big as Johnny Carson’s retirement fifteen years ago.

Like millions of other Americans, I grew up on Bob Barker and The Price is Right (I was a year old when the show premiered in 1972). Bob and Price have always been there for me, through various jobs, all the way through school, sick days, snow days, girlfriends, births, deaths, bad days and good. No matter what doo-doo life was pitching at me, I could always turn to Uncle Bob for an hour a day and know that something was still right with the world.

Uncle Bob and friends, 1974

The Price is Right has run longer than every single daytime game show there ever has been and is the only daytime network game show left standing. It has survived more than forty different series thrown up against it, including heavyweights like the original (and best) versions of The Hollywood Squares, Family Feud and The $20,000 Pyramid. Price has outlasted them all, and directly killed more than a few of them.

Yet for all of The Price is Right’s success in daytime, attempts to bring it to nighttime have been far less successful. Sure, there was the 1972-79 syndie companion to the daytime show with Dennis James at the helm, but that was before Bob became synonymous with the show (and besides, Bob took over the last three years of that version too). But later attempts at nighttime Price without Barker have failed, both in 1985 and 1994.

What distresses me the most was that the 1994 show featured a different set, re-recorded theme and different games. The staff of The Price is Right would be well-advised to take note that when Price is monkeyed with, it fails. and that they should install the new guy and leave the rest of the production as-is. That means no set changes, no new spins on the classic pricing games, and no format changes to the pacing of the show. None. Zippo. Nada. It will be hard enough to accept the new guy anyway. Changing for the sake of change would be suicide to the show.

The Man, 2007

On May 16, CBS ran the final “Price is Right Million Dollar Spectacular,” with Bob, and the next night, CBS ran a Bob Barker tribute show celebrating his career. CBS prez Les Moonves and Adam Sandler stopped in to say goodbye. Sandler was hilarious, and you could see the love and admiration the two men have for each other. When Moonves spoke of Barker's decision to retire, the audience broke into a spontaneous "Bob! Bob! Bob!" cheer and begged him not to leave. You could feel the love there, too, and for the first time in all of this I felt teary-eyed and choked up. I feel like the last part of my childhood is slipping away.

But then, I can't be greedy. Bob has served us many years longer than I ever dreamed he would. He has grown old before our very eyes, and he has earned his retirement. I wish him a long and happy rest working with his animal charities and hope he will make public appearances for many years down the road.

On June 15, Bob's final daytime Price is Right will air on CBS. He will come through those big doors at the opening one last time, and the audience will scream and yell and applaud louder and longer than they ever have. He will deserve every clap, every whoop, every scream. It has been one incredible run, and as all greats do, he will leave us wanting more.

So from that little boy who watched from his playpen, who spent sick days from school with you, who watched when his life seemed to be falling apart, and who watches with his own little boy every chance he gets, Thank you, Bob Barker. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

You are truly Priceless.

Brian’s favorite radio hits:

Nickelback, "If Everyone Cared"
Rihanna, "Umbrella"
Maroon 5, "Makes Me Wonder"
Kelly Clarkson, "Never Again"
Beyonce f/ Shakira, "Beautiful Liar"

"Things Were So Much Better Then" part one: TV

2007-03-17T13:36:00.001-04:00

(NOTE: My pictures that I had with this post disappeared, so I removed the "empty blocks" that were left in their stead.)

I don't know if there will ever be a part two to my "Things were so much better then..." series, but I sense that the odds are pretty good. I'm approaching 36, and according to the data I've seen, I'm past the halfway point in terms of life expectancy (which is 68.3 years, by the way). This makes me an expert on what was good that is now bad, and what makes it suck.
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So now it's time for this middle-aged white guy to tell you how TV was so much better in the 1970s and 80s than it is today.
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Yeah, sure, you got your American Idol and 24, House and Lost (and let me plug 'Til Death, The War at Home and The Winner, which may be too brilliant to last). But these are bright spots on an otherwise over-channeled, below-quality dial. Remember, we're not smarter than 5th graders these days. We'll watch anything!
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When I say "The Best TV Line-up Ever," I know what you're probably thinking: NBC Thursdays.
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8:00 The Cosby Show
8:30 Family Ties
9:00 Cheers
9:30 Night Court
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And you'd be wrong! Let me tell ya why...
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When I was 13, the stars aligned and The Cosby Show, Family Ties, Cheers and Night Court made up the NBC Thursday lineup. This was a guaranteed two hours of solid laughs every Thursday for three years. Bill Cosby was a genius and his show was incredibly funny. Family Ties was The Michael J. Fox show as far as I was concerned. Cheers was a kind of soap opera with long story arcs woven throughout the individual episodes. Night Court was side-splitting, bawdy fun.
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Then Family Ties moved away and the sub-standard A Different World went in the post-Cosby slot. I never liked Lisa Bonet and thought that A Different World sucked ass, even after she left (which she did mercifully quickly). The next year, Night Court moved to Wednesdays and "Must-See TV" became a joke as far as I was concerned.
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Now, three years of an unchanged network TV lineup is absolutely not going to happen today, but back in the day, it happened plenty. And while I really liked that NBC lineup a lot, it still reminds me of being ages 13, 14 and 15, none of which were my most graceful, dashingly handsome or successful coochie-chasing years. Really, I was a mess back then and my goofy ass watched a lot of television. So that lineup is not my choice for the honor of "Creme-de-la-creme of the TV Heap." So what is?
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The absolute best, number-one, fantabulous, never-rivaled network TV lineup is ABC Tuesdays, 1977-83. Here's why:
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8:00 Happy Days
8:30 Laverne & Shirley
9:00 Three's Company
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It started with Happy Days. Richie, Fonzie and the whole gang kept me laughing and saying "Aaaaaaaaaayyyyy!" with the best of them. And then, somewhere in the early-1980s right after Richie left, Joanie grew some delectable legs and boobs and my little 12-year-old self kept watching for Erin Moran in a skirt. Chachi was one lucky bastard in my opinion.
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Then came those two knuckleheaded broads, Laverne & Shirley. Sometimes Fonzie would show up over here, too, but even if he didn't, Laverne and Shirley were always into some sort of trouble and Lenny and Squiggy would bust in through the apartment door at least one an episode. The later years were somewhat weaker than the first few (especially after the move to California), and the last year is virtually unwatchable without Shirley, but overall I got some great big belly laughs out of these silly bottlecappers.
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Following Laverne & Shirley was the crown jewel of the bunch: Three's Company. This show never lost its appeal to me, even after the Ropers left and the succession of blonde roommates. Jack and Janet were the real stars to me, and John Ritter was hands-down the best overall TV comedian since Lucy. When I got older, I really liked Joyce DeWitt's ass and thought she was always hotter than whatever blonde was on at that point.
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This ABC lineup came together when Three's Company premiered in March 1977, and save for a half-season in 1979 when Laverne & Shirley moved to Thursdays, stayed untouched until May 1983, when Laverne & Shirley fell victim to the network programmer's ax. That's nearly six years of unchanged television heaven! And as for me, I was at least mildly good-looking then, made good grades and hadn't yet begun to chase the aforementioned cooch. Life was good!
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Then I saw Joanie's legs...

Whatever happened to winter?

2007-02-19T19:29:00.000-05:00

Some lucky neighborhood somewhere

Thanksgiving was great, Christmas was a blast, and I enjoyed the New Year holiday just fine. But for the second consecutive year, the winter weather in this town has sucked.

Just once, I’d like to have an actual, real winter. And any winter where I’m swatting mosquitoes in November and the Jaw-ja pines are oozing their foul, nasty sap in January is not a real winter. Not even close.

I remember getting hit with at least one good wallop of snow pretty much every year when I was growing up. Ideally, you’d hear about the chance of snow on a Monday, Tuesday would be the anticipation day (where you'd watch and listen to every weather report you could find), and then on Wednesday it would do whatever it was going to. And no matter what, the winter weather event had to occur during the week. Weekend snow was useless, since the whole point was to get out of a couple of days of school. These days it doesn't matter: Weekdays, weekends, we don't get shit when it comes to winter weather anymore. Maybe there is such a thing as global warming. Maybe Al Gore's right!

That’s not to say that this winter is totally lost just yet. Two of the biggest snows we’ve ever had occurred in mid- March. In fact, the “Superstorm of 1993” hit here on March 13, 1993 and dumped over a foot of snow and brought with it winds in excess of 65 mph. Why can't we have another one of these sumbitches?!?

So while the winter of 2006-07 isn’t quite over, I’d say that we have at best another four weeks for something to shake loose. And if it’s not going to snow, then let’s go ahead and get to spring. I’m sick of DBS* and being cold for no good reason!

*=Dry Booger Syndrome

Allergic to peanuts? FUCK YOU!

2006-12-03T20:32:00.000-05:00

Bullshit allergy

As I was sitting at the kitchen table this evening, gorging my fat ass on some delicious shortbread cookies that my wife’s uncle gave her for Christmas, I noticed a small, bold-typed warning under the list of ingredients: May contain traces of nuts and egg.

In the last five years or so, the country has become hyper-sensitive to a very small number of kids who are allergic to nuts. If you’re allergic to something, fine. Don’t eat it. But this new so-called problem is not caused by ingestion; it’s caused by inhaling “nut dust.” The kid just has to be around some nuts in order to have a reaction.

Once some kid is identified with this bullshit “allergy,” the school bans all nut products, instead of sending the little weirdo off to a special school so the rest of the kids can enjoy their peanut butter sandwiches in peace like normal humans.

I read online somewhere that a one kid could toss a peanut butter sandwich in the trash or forget that they have peanut butter on a napkin, and another “nut allergy” kid across the room could get sick from it.

Invitation to soccer moms whose kids suffer from this horrible malady: Come over here and sniff my “nut dust.” And keep your weird kids at home.

Air snobs

I saw no less than five old farts last week wheeling around their own personal air supply. You’ve seen them, too: Wrinkly, gray, stooped, with an air hose taped under their noses, shuffling along, dragging a cart behind them with a big, red tank of their special, hoity-toity boutique air while the rest of us breathe the generic stuff.

What’s the matter? Is my air not good enough for you, assholes?

Give me a break! Medicare even pays for this shit for them half the time. And oxygen is flammable, yet I saw some miserable, dried-up old turd enjoying a fucking cigar with his high-falootin’ breathing gas.

Eat shit, you air snobs!

Enough with the fuckin' tattoos!

2006-09-04T10:21:00.000-04:00

What is it with the young girls these days? All of them are getting the fucking nasty, gross, redneck-y tattoos, and guess what? THEY LOOK LIKE SHIT! There are few chicks that can pull off a good-looking tattoo (if you want to know if yours passes muster, send me a pic). This means that the rest of you should knock it off.

As a public service, here's a look at some of tattoo-dom's greatest hits.

The "ruined titty" tat. Why do you women insist on destroying your boobs with roses, ice cream cones, flowers, and most of all, your own name? That one kills me. A girl takes off her bra and it says "STACY" right on her breast! At least try being accurate and have "STACY'S TIT" on there. An otherwise great rack, now ruined forever by someone's artwork.

The indecisive neck tattoo. When a woman wants to look refined and neat, she can let her hair down and cover this monstrosity, and when she's looking for dick to suck at the Greyhound station, she can put it up in a ponytail and advertise her trashiness. This tattoo is usually accessorized by a pack of Marlboros and flip-flops.

The "Panama City license plate." Called this because studies show that 87% of all of these tattoos are applied in Panama City, Florida. I have never seen one of these tattoos that I thought was sexy, although I would like to see one sometime that said "put it back here" with an arrow pointing down. That would be funny.

At the risk of sounding like a chauvinist, I think guys can pull off tattoos better than girls, but I still wouldn't get one myself. That said, here's the Greatest Tattoo Ever:

New low for Corporate America

2006-02-01T10:05:00.000-05:00

Corporate America is hitting new lows with its lying and cheating. Here's the latest, this time in my backyard:

My wife has become tired of the 8:30-5:30 thing, and has been looking for a part-time or flexible-hours gig. So she applied at an office where her best friend works for a part-time receptionist position. Her first interview was last Tuesday, and the second one was Friday. In addition, she took off (hosed) work Monday and Tuesday and set out to pound on some doors and ended up at a restaurant in McDonough. She got an interview there immediately, and no sooner had she left that they called wanting a second interview, which she had the next day.

The end result? The office called and said they went with someone else with accounting experience (Kim has 11 years in collections and payables) and that they decided to hire a full-timer instead. So not only is the reason that she didn't get the job bogus, but in typical corporate criminal asshole fashion, the rules changed after the interviews! The restaurant manager says they will "get back to her," like she'll be guarding the red nuclear suitcase and not plates of fried chicken and biscuits.

Once again, suck my ass Corporate America.

And don't get me started on W's lame State of the Rich Peoples' Union speech.

Corporate America can eat shit

2006-01-12T15:20:00.000-05:00

I've combined the last two posts for clarity. After reading all that I've written here, it's official. I'm a liberal.

After my crashing failure in the radio game, I became a very successful sales and customer service manager, leading a team that was responsible for boosting the company's sales by 40% over a three-month period.

I came into that job by working my ass off. I started as a low-salaried, commission-based salesperson. Within months I was customer service manager, and a short time after that, I added sales manager duties.

A couple of years into the job and the owner of the company had a heart attack. His family forced him to sell his businesses, and a flim-flammer named Russ Gourd convinced his company to buy it and make him the managing partner. Russ thought filet mignon when all the brainpower he could muster was macaroni and cheese. The rest he tried to compensate for with mouth. LOTS of mouth. He was a hustler of the smoke-and-mirrors variety, and after a few shaky months of him pissing off my valuable customers left and right and screwing our sales right into the shitpile, all of us fron the old company were laid off with no warning, no severance, no nothing. I got a sniff from a well-placed source that it was coming the morning it went down, so I authorized a $30,000 refund back to a good customer of mine that Russ had hoodwinked into some ridiculous deal that clearly wasn't working out. I heard that management's payroll fell a wee short that week, heh heh.

The point I'm getting to is, I have never been able to get even close to the level of responsibility and position that I had with that company. I screwed around in banking before landing in a dopey call center where I keep getting passed over for promotions (10 so far), despite my best efforts and those of corporate to allow me to get the skills they have identified as being necessary to move up.

Skills? I've got them. Common sense? I'm teeming with it. Ambition? I'm full of it (among other things). What I don't have is my nose in someone's rectum, nor do I socialize at church with the managers. And I don't intend to. I'll get by on my own merits and if that's not enough, then I'll try and figure out a way that I can become a burden on society and let these management assholes pay my way.

Anyway, the fall of 2000 was the worst period of my life, after being bounced out of my management position on my ass along with all of the other employees. It was the downward turning point in my shitty career. Then it was on to banking for a while (pays nothing) and call center work (which I am sick to death of).

But escaping the call center is probably not possible, since once the Corporate Machine gets you pigeonholed, that's where you stay. I also believe that if you make too many waves (meaning that you display drive, ambition, skill and tenacity) that there is a master list of people who get dumped on a employee "blacklist" of sorts.

Why is this? Because the public, at large, must be kept under the government's thumb at all times and Corporate America aids and abets this process through kickbacks, special favors and under-the-table bullshit that would make all our heads spin if we only knew. By design, there's only so many spots for successful people (which explains the "same six fatbodies" rule), and they're only allowed to exist so the rest of the masses can keep their eyes on the (unattainable) prize. It's like a loss-leader item that Best Buy puts on some ridiculous sale to get you interested in their store. Successful people are the government's "loss leaders."Government knows that successful people are less dependent on it than the rest of us. Therefore, they can't let those numbers get too far out of line.

Me, I say fuck it. I'm making waves anyway. I've had it with departmental policies, new rules as to how to do my job that makes it harder, kiss-asses and suck-ups (and the system that allows ass-kissing and sucking up to work), lame excuses as to why I'm not getting the promotion, the monitoring of my every move and a bazillion other things. Yeah, Corporate America can suck my dick.

Hear that, corporate America? I used to be on your side, but you let me down! Now I'm against you, and as many people have found out, I usually find a way to get even.

Steve Perry owes me nothing

2005-12-16T18:37:00.000-05:00

In the almost eight years since Journey and original singer Steve Perry parted ways, Steve has, for the most part, kept a low profile. "Living life on life's terms," he has called it. He most recently became a special guest of the Chicago White Sox after they adopted Journey's "Don't Stop Believin'" as their rally song en route to winning the World Series.

I admire Steve. Of course, his music and vocal style are what I knew first about the guy, and that alone made me a fan. But my admiration comes from the fact that he had a heck of a time in the sun, and once he had enough, he folded his tent and walked away. How cool is that?!?

After fronting Journey from 1978 to 1987, Steve admits he was "burnt toast." He took some time off from writing and recording to get himself together after his mom (a huge influence on his life and career) passed away. He recorded enough material for another solo album, but it was shelved when CBS records changed hands. Other than a brief one-off Journey reunion in 1991, nobody really saw him or heard anything from him until 1994, when he released a solo album and reunited with Journey in 1996.

Now Steve's seemingly retired once again (save for a occasional guest spot on friends' albums and compiling Journey vidoes and concerts for DVD release). He says he doesn't know when or if he'll record something new, and that's cool with me. Some Journey fans, however, say mean, vicious things about him, things that I won't even justify by repeating.

The man entertained me long enough, and now he says he's "living life on life's terms," going to baseball games, movies, concerts and wherever else he wishes. And if I were wealthy and able to stop working and do whatever I like, I'd do it too.

God bless him on his own Journey.

A special guest-blogger!

2005-12-08T17:15:00.000-05:00

I have a new entry that's saved and ready to fly. The question is, do I dare publish it? I'm gonna get flamed big-time if I do. Anyway, while I was contemplating the pros and cons of having my ass ablaze, my good buddy Alex Autrey (you can find a link to his site on the right side of this page) asked if he could guest-blog on the site. Alex is one of the funniest people I know, an a hell of a writer, so I know you'll enjoy what he has to say:

First off, let me thank Brian for allowing me a guest spot on his webspace. Thank you, sir.

Merry Christmas to you. I know a lot of people want it said as "Happy Holidays", but since I plan on talking about one of the greatest Christmas traditions, I’m going to say Merry Christmas.

If you have ABC Family (and why wouldn’t you?), then you know that we were in day eight of the "25 Days of Christmas", in which every night they show Christmas classics. Mostly stuff we’ve seen hundreds of times already, but it does allow me one special thing: The classic television specials of Rankin-Bass. Arthur Rankin, Jr. and Jules Bass were geniuses of Christmas specials, giving us such classic characters as the Heat Miser and the Snow Miser, Winter Warlock, and Topper the Penguin. He also introduced us to the Island of Misfit Toys. It was just a few years ago when a life long dream of mine came true, and I opened a gift to reveal my very own Charlie in the Box.

They also were the backbone behind some great syndicated cartoons as well, including the Thundercats, but I’m here to focus on something far more sinister. Yes, I’m talking about: The Dark Side of Rankin-Bass.

Now, I realize these are kids programs, and looking too far into them to find something is the same as people freeze-framing Disney movies to find the word sex. Still, you needn’t look hard to discover the seedy underbelly of the Rankin-Bass programs.

In "Santa Claus is Coming to Town", the voice of Fred Astaire is attached to a mailman who explains the history and legend of Santa…BY OPENING AND READING HIS MAIL! Now, as a member of the US Postal Service, Special Delivery Fred should know that by opening up Santa’s private mail, HE’S BREAKING THE LAW!!! Remember, this is a special that came out in 1970, and there was no Homeland Security. Shame on you Fred Astaire, you should know better.

By far, the biggest show of the seedier side of Rankin-Bass has to come from the classic Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. Most people know the story, but to sum up, Rudolph is born with a freakish handicap that his parents try to hide. When the town discovers it, everyone, INCLUDING SANTA, dismisses him, and isolates him. He takes up with an elf who dreams of working in dentistry (which we all know means a desire to inflict pain for pay), and runs away to leave with a prospector and some freak toys that no one wants. In the end, everyone realizes that the freaks will inherit, and tries to make nicey-nice to them.

And yet, there are some even darker scenes within. Aside from the alienation of Rudolph by everyone, save one doe, there’s a scene with an elf oinking to gain the attention of the Bumble, a violent attack on said Bumble, and while he’s knocked out, the ruthless removal of all his teeth, as a way to "train" him.

Further, despite Hermy and Rudolph’s return to the North Pole, Santa doesn’t see Rudolph’s nose as an asset until the most dire of times. Surely, had it not been for a blizzard, Rudolph would still be considered "the freak with the nose".

Still, the most heinous of acts doesn’t occur until the very end. Watch the credits. An elf in the back of the sleigh distributes toys by giving them an umbrella, and tossing them over the side. He starts with the Misfit Toys. And sure enough, he comes to the bird in the group. He looks at the bird; he looks at the umbrella, and tosses the bird over, without the umbrella. Here’s the thing. The bird was on the Island of Misfit Toys because HE COULDN’T FLY, HE COULD ONLY SWIM! How is it that this story has been shown for years on television and no one has pointed this out? Why have we not seen an episode of CSI: North Pole to investigate? And since this was a Misfit Toy, could this be considered a hate crime?

Now, please understand that I love the Rankin-Bass product. I enjoy them every year, and I hope you do too. But the next time you’re watching, look for the real message. Conformity is good, don’t be a freak, watch your mail, and if you’re a misfit, then be wary of elves with umbrellas.

Happy holidays everybody.

Curly vs. Shemp: A useless debate

2005-12-06T18:48:00.000-05:00

It's an age-old question: Which "thrid stooge" do you like better, Curly or Shemp?

My answer? I like them equally. (You chicks can tune out for a few minutes. I know you all hate the Stooges.)

Curly is probably the most-recognized of all The Three Stooges, just because of his appearance and his loud nyuk-nyuk-nyukking and child-like mannerisms. He's soitenly the most-loved. But I think Shemp unfairly gets the short-end of the stick across the board.

Let's look at the facts: Curly's health had been on the decline for several years and he had several small strokes before the one that knocked him out of the trio in 1946. When that happened, there were two choices: Disband the act, or get a replacement. Since Shemp was Moe's brother (as was Curly), and Shemp had been the original "third stooge" when the team worked with Ted Healy in the early 1930s, Shemp was the logical choice.

People unfavorably compare Shemp to Curly, despite the fact that they were as different as night and day. Shemp looked a lot like Moe, but Shemp was older and taller. He didn't have the woop-woop-woop schtick that Curly had. Shemp was quieter, and you have to watch him and listen to him more carefully than Curly, and as a verbal comedian, Shemp is funnier by far. Everyone that knew Shemp said he was the funniest man they ever met.

The quality of the Stooges' film work began to decline in the late 1940s and ealry 1950s, in part because Columbia was starting to eliminate the two-reeler department at the studio (resulting in a lot of remakes), and partially because the Stooges themselves were starting to age. By 1950, Moe was 53, Shemp was 55 and Larry was 48. These weren't twenty-somethings slapping the piss out of each other anymore, these were middle-aged guys! I bet that shit hurt worse at 50 than at 25!

Shemp died in 1955 of a massive heart attack. It has been said that Moe never got over his brothers' deaths (Curly passed away in 1952) and that he contemplated retirement, but Larry (whom Moe loved like a brother) urged him onward, and the act continued with Joe Besser and then "Curly-Joe" DeRita until Larry became ill in 1970. Joe was the pansy-acting one, and Curly-Joe was the Curly-esque fat guy with the shaved head. Now, both of these guys are inferior replacements, but that's still a tough gig to step into.

So, Curly or Shemp? It really doesn't matter to me. They are equally funny, but different.

Dubya's quagmire gets deeper...

2005-11-30T14:55:00.000-05:00

I never thought I'd say this, but Sen. Harry Reid (D-NV) got it right today when he said President Bush "once again missed an opportunity to lay out a real strategy for success in Iraq that will bring our troops safely home." Goddamn right, Harry!

As you may have heard, Dubya said today, "as Iraqi forces gain experience and the political process advances, we will be able to decrease our troop level in Iraq without losing our capability to defeat the terrorists. These decisions about troop levels will be driven by the conditions on the ground in Iraq and the good judgment of our commanders, not by artificial timetables set by politicians in Washington."

Hm. Nearly three years and more than 2,000 dead soldiers later, and they still don't know when we're withdrawing.

How about right now? Leave. Pull every soldier out of there and when the terrorists take it back over, blow the whole sucker to kingdom come. KABLOOEY! That's how you handle terrorists and a population either too weak or apathetic to rise up against them.

I can tell you now, if my son were 18 and he were drafted, he sure as hell wouldn't be going over there. This administration is clueless on this one. Not one American's life is worth a bazillion Iraqis. It's like comparing the value of apples and shit.

More hostages

Four Western peace workers, one American, two Canadians and a Brit, have been kidnapped by some group called the Swords of Righteousness Brigade. Al-Jazeera (also known as Al-Jihad TV, the world's foremost terrorist television network) reported that the four men were declared "spies of the occupation forces." How long before they saw off these people's heads? A week? Two?

Even better, how long before we all wise up and realize that the Iraqis are ingrates and don't want us over there. Let's pull out and let them rot in their own stupidity. To hell with them all.

Wife picks up college dude, brings him home

2005-11-28T17:43:00.001-05:00

Yesterday, the missus announced that she was going Christmas shopping by herself. As she was getting dressed, I was watching SportsCenter and not paying attention until she said, "Now, what I'm wearing to go shopping might look kinda odd to you..."

When she came out of the dressing area, she had on a blouse, skirt and thigh-high leather boots. Damn right it wasn't Kim's usual shopping attire!

She explained that she was wearing the skirt because she wanted to shop for another blouse to go with it, and wearing it was a lot easier than carrying it, checking it with mall security and dragging it all over the shopping centers. Made sense to me!

She was gone all afternoon, and called about 5 from her car, saying that she was just at the library and had overheard a conversation between the check-out clerk and a young man named Andrew who was looking for a certain book for a school report but couldn't get a copy of it. Kim offered her personal copy and Andrew said, "Can I follow you home and get it today, because the report is due Friday!" She said sure, and he followed her to the house.

I was impressed with this Andrew character. He walked in, looked me in the eye, stuck out his hand for a shake (firm, not crushing), and of all things, called Kim and me "ma'am" and "sir." From what I could tell, somebody raised this boy right. He was tall, had short hair, dressed neatly, spoke clearly and like he had right-good sense. He told us where he went to college, what he was majoring in, thanked us both for letting him stop by and for saving his academic bacon by loaning him the book he desperately needed.

You can only imagine the hell I've been giving Kim,after wearing something hot to shop in and then bringing home a 19-year-old later that day!

Aaron Brown is leaving CNN

2005-11-04T19:39:00.000-05:00

People will have a harder time falling asleep across these United States beginning November 7, as Aaron Brown is leaving CNN.

Next to Bill Nigut (formerly of Atlanta's WSB-TV), I believe Aaron Brown is the most boring human being alive. I never have any trouble dozing off once I see Aaron's face and hear that sing-song nasally voice of his. Newsnight with Aaron Brown was like Nytol, warm milk and a good round of sex all rolled into one. Instant Zs.

I wish Aaron much success in his future endeavors, just so long as I don't have to watch them.

Civil War re-enactments

2005-11-03T15:14:00.000-05:00

I saw an article in the local paper today about these mental midgets who go out in a field somewhere and re-enact battles from the Civil War.

You never see this sort of shit going on up north. Noooooo, only in the south. Just what we need, more publicity from the goddamn Civil War to make us all look like rubes.

I suspect the participants are just pissed-off rednecks that still haven't gotten over the fact that south lost the war, and hope that through their eight-millionth re-enactment they might figure out some way in their puny heads to be able to claim that they really did win after all!

When I see these people, and especially when these inbreds end up in the media with their idiocy, I just wish they'd use real bullets.

Dubya's quagmire

2005-10-28T18:31:00.000-04:00

So Dick Cheney’s chief of staff, Lewis "Scooter" Libby Jr., was indicted today on obstruction of justice, perjury and making false statements charges in the Valerie Plame/CIA leak investigation. Scooter immediately resigned and left the White House.

This is really not a Dubya story, this is a story about finding out who leaked the name of a CIA agent to the press. But the liberal media spotlight will immediately focus on Bush anyway, and while it may not be exactly fair, the scrutiny is not necessarily a bad thing. Anything to get the continued bumbling of this administration where it concerns gas and fuel prices, unemployment, Supreme Court nominees, and the Neverending War in Iraq is a good thing. It shouldn’t be surprising that Dubya’s approval rating is lower than those for NBC’s Joey.

That said, I maintain the following:

Removing Saddam Hussein from power in Iraq was the right thing to do. However, that should have been done back in 1991. Still, he needed to go. Saddam is a horrible puke of a man who killed millions of people just for the hell of it over a span of about 25 years. For some inexplicable reason, Dubya has bungled the entire Iraq operation, whether it be in the interest of political correctness leading up to the 2004 election, some secret, pocket-lining plan or just sheer ineptitude. The war in Iraq should’ve been over at least 18 months ago. Go in, get Saddam, bomb the bejesus out of every known terrorist hidey-hole, and leave. Then use the satellites, observe where the terrorists scatter to, fly over and bomb them again! At this point, not a single soldier should be on the ground over there. Period.

As for the WMDs, not only did our intelligence say they were there, so did the Brits’ and the revered French. And besides, we found some.

Anyhow, this leak case could result in good-natured, jovial Cheney himself having to testify, and I think that alone would be fun to watch. Cheney might have his 14th heart attack!

Honestly, my dear readers, the older I get, the more I realize that most politicians are only in it for themselves. They don’t give a shit about you and me past what they can get out of us. So the idea is to just let enough of us live comfortably enough that we don’t rise up, grab the pitchforks and the torches, and bounce all of them out on their asses.

Now enjoy your weekend!

I'm your new president

2005-10-07T21:04:00.000-04:00

An AP news poll finds that evangelicals, Republican women, southerners and other critical groups in President Bush's political coalition are worried about the direction the nation is headed and disappointed with his performance.

In the nation's best interest, I have appointed myself president for the duration of this post, and will now offer my solution for each problem:

Iraq: We need to get the fuck out of Iraq. Why the hell are we still there? Either pull out now or bomb the shit out of the turdhole and then pull out. Bush is starting to smell like that dickhead Lyndon Johnson on this one.

The economy: Pass the Fair Tax! That way we all pay the same 28% on what we spend, not what we earn. More interest income will be generated (and would be untaxed), putting more money in the hands of people who will need to hire folks to work in their burgeoning companies. In short, we'd all have more money to invest, and we'd all have more money to spend. Good for the economy.

Immigration: Here's how it should work: Shoot any asshole that tries to breech our borders. Hang signs that say TRY TO CROSS THIS BORDER ILLEGALLY AND WE'LL SHOOT YOUR ASS. And if you really want to live here, learn English, take the citizenship test, get a fuckin' Social Security card and assimilate!

Gas prices: All you greenies can suck my dick. We need more oil refineries right fuckin' now and you're standing in the way. Get to drilling, and I don't give a shit where! No reason for this bullshit $3.05 a gallon gas. Oh, wait...Bush and his cronies are into oil...And the less oil we have, the more it costs...And loosening the regulations on drilling would lead to competition...OK, I believe we've noodled this one out. That explains that.

Katrina recovery: All the money we're pouring into the shithole known as Iraq would be much better spent on the Gulf Coast. Fuck the Iraqis. They don't apppreciate anything we've done for them.

Thank you, thank you. It's a pleasure to be your president. Now, where are the interns?

The media makes me sick!

2005-10-05T15:28:00.000-04:00

The increasingly aggressive media is out breaking up marriages and trying to maim and kill celebrities. Do they not remember how they managed to kill Princess Diana eight years ago?

Nick & Jessica

Reports are out that Nick Lachey and Jessica Simpson are splitting up. Now, I really don't give a rat's ass about either of them particularly, but the media has been down their throats with these breakup rumors from the minute they married. In my opinion, if the breakup rumors are true, the media gets all the blame. They should have left these apparently nice kids alone.

Lindsay Lohan

Meanwhile, photographers have managed to make supple, big-knockered Lindsay Lohan crash her car twice in about three months, the second accident coming last night. Do these predatory photographers not care that they're endangering the lives of the epople they're shooting? Lindsay was out shopping, leave her alone for Chrissakes!

She needs to buy herself a gun.

Tom & Katie

She's pregnant. He's weird. Who gives a fuck about either of them?

Nipsey Russell, 1924-2005

A more decent and joyful man there may never have been. Nipsey passed away October 2 at the age of 80.

He appeared in the movie "The Wiz" and hosted the NBC game show Your Number's Up in the mid-1980s. But Nipsey probably won't be remembered for one particular show or movie, but instead his bazillion game show appearances (like Password, The $25,000 Pyramid, Match Game and so on). Always armed with that million-watt smile (and a poem), he was one hell of a celebrity contestant. I always said if I ever got on Pyramid, I wanted my partner to be Markie Post or Nipsey Russell. He kicked ass!

What you may not know is that Nipsey was an Atlanta native and a carhop at the legendary Atlanta eatery The Varsity in his youth. The restaurant retired his carhop number (46) in his honor when he hit the big time.

As I said to my good friend Alex (who appreciates these old-school entertainers as much as I do), somewhere, Johnny Carson and Gene Rayburn are trying to book Nipsey first.

Braves in the playoffs (yawn) again...

And they'll blow yet another division series (their pitching will not hold up against the Astros), whereuopn manager Bobby Cox will minimize his team's continued failure by chalking it up to being "a few good swings short," giving up some "hard-hit balls," and that it was "a great season with some young guys."

Spare me. What of my baseball fandom the 1994 strike didn't kill, the continued Braves blown postseasons has.

"Crap You Spout to Get a Job"

2005-10-04T15:23:00.000-04:00

A few months ago, a friend of mine had an interview with a company that uses "targeted selection" in their hiring process. Targeted selection is really that same bunch of stupid, bullshit questions employers ask you at every goddamn interview you ever go on.

After my friend didn't get the job and told me the moronic questions he was asked, I decided to write the absolute most suck-up, brown-nose answers to them that I could think of, using as many dickhead buzzwords and phrases as I could think of without puking all over my keyboard.

If any of you use this document in an interview, let me know how it goes.

That said, I present to you...

"CRAP YOU SPOUT TO GET A JOB"

WHY APPLY?
I am ready for more responsibility. This is a result of personal growth and progression, and it’s important to me for my own personal satisfaction. I want to know up front the expectations that a company has for its employees and how to go about meeting and exceeding those expectations to progress up the corporate ladder. This would make me happy, and I believe that a happy employee works harder, smarter and better than an unhappy, unfulfilled one.

PAY SCALE
I have no set aspirations about money and reward. If I am selected for this position, I know I will contribute and add value to the organization. Generally, increased reward follows. I believe you get out what you put in.

STRENGTHS
Speaking in generalities, my strengths are that I am organized, dependable, and willing to contribute ideas and go the extra step to ensure that my job gets done thoroughly expeditiously, while keeping in mind the company’s goals and profitability as well.

I also am a great peer coach. My co-workers frequently come to me for guidance on how to solve problems and ask what methods I use to complete my assignments as well as I do.

I also have a knack for saving business relationships that have been soured by poor performance on the part of the company. I have a stack of compliments that I would like to share with you that underscore this ability.

I realized a long time ago that the company I work for may have 5,000 employees, but when I speak to a customer, I am the entire company to that customer. The impression that customer comes away with is directly related to how well I do my job. I don’t take that responsibility lightly.

WEAKNESSES
There are some things I'm not so good at, but I'd never say these are weaknesses, because I consider weakness to imply vulnerability, and I don't consider myself vulnerable.

I have difficulty working with people who don't pull their weight. I have high standards for my work and I expect others to have high standards too. I'm learning to speak up and request that others contribute more completely long before I start getting angry about a situation that is unequal.

I also can’t understand people who have a chronic problem getting to work on time.

BIGGEST FAILURE
I generally don’t fail because I plan and manage accordingly. But if a process or procedure isn’t working well, then I’ll change it until it does. The important thing is to put the necessary checks and contingencies in place that enable me to see if things aren't going to plan, and to make changes when and if necessary.

FIVE YEARS FROM NOW…
Five years from now I see myself continuing to work hard and doing the best possible job I can, and making a more significant contribution to whatever organization I'm working for.

Long term, I want to make the most of my abilities and build a serious career, but in this day and age nothing is certain or guaranteed. I'll do my best and believe that opportunities will arise which will enable me to keep contributing, increasing my worth, and developing my ability in a way that benefits the organization and me.

In five years, I will have also developed new skills and abilities, and I will be even better qualified in whatever way suits the situation and opportunities I have. I will be well-regarded by my peers and respected and trusted by my superiors as someone who continuously increases the value and scale of what he does for the company.

WHAT WILL I BRING TO THE JOB?
I will bring a steady, balanced work ethic to the team. I believe in getting the job done while forging trust and respect with my co-workers.

JUGGLING PRIORITIES
I have those "juggling" situations almost every day. There’s no real secret to handling these things, I just prioritize the assignments by how urgent each situation is. In general, I put out the hottest fire first and work my way down from there.

Also, knowing where the fires are likely to erupt and preventing said eruption is just as important as putting out the ones already burning. This is an area where my experience is extremely valuable. I’ve been working long enough to know the consequences of getting the priorities out of order.

HANDLING STRESS
Stress is detrimental to being successful in any situation, and while it is sometimes unavoidable, it can be minimized. I find that keeping perspective on the task at hand and visualizing its completion can greatly reduce stress.

Deadlines are different. I look at deadlines as similar to checkpoints in a race. Each checkpoint has to be met within a certain time frame to remain competitive. It gives me a feeling of accomplishment each time I meet one of those checkpoints.

OK, smell shit yet? Is that not the most nauseating load you ever read? But folks, that's how the game is played these days (provided the field is level and the fix isn't in as to who's going to get the job in the first place).

Now spew.

'Tard magnetism

2005-09-06T19:59:00.000-04:00

On my next birthday, I’ll be 35. That sucks bad enough, but as I get older, I'm realizing there are some things that I’m not able to do anymore. Like:

> Get on my knees and push my back down flat against the floor

> Eat anything I like and not gain weight

> Attract, much less bang, 19-year-old girls

> Watch MTV (because it blows!)

> Talk more than five minutes before saying, "When I was your age..."

You get the idea.

But there is one thing that I have unfortunately developed quite the knack for, and that is, attracting mentally handicapped females.

Yep, ‘tards love me!

I first started noticing this a few years back. It seemed that I was encountering an inordinate number of retarded people, much more than I thought was normal. Then Kim started noticing it to. Since then, unbeknownst to me, I have been elected the Don Juan of Down’s.

I’ll tell ya, I don’t like it worth a shit either.

Earlier this year, as we were leaving on a family vacation, we stopped in at a McDonald’s for a quick nosh, and as I was getting our drinks, I was approached by a ‘tard girl. She started flapping her arms and haiming loudly at me. (You don’t know what haiming is? Squint your eyes, and in your best retard voice, make a sound like "HAIM!" Got the picture now?) I have no fucking clue what to say or how to react other than look for the ‘tard girl’s handler. Of course, that person always seems to have fucking disappeared!

So then, on this same trip, we’re in a gift shop and I feel someone standing very close to my right shoulder, and thinking it’s someone who maybe KNOWS ME, I say, "Quit breathing on my neck," and I spin around to see yet another Rita Retardo, drooling profusely and smiling a big shit-eating grin. I suppose I should have recognized the pungent fecal odor of her "‘tard breath," but why should I always have to be on 'Tard Patrol? Why can’t the ‘tard wranglers keep an eye on their 'tards and prevent these incidents from happening? Hey, I feel sorry for them, but a non-‘tard is liable to get punched in the throat for doing that sort of shit to a stranger. Why should retards get a free skate?

Then, just the other day, Kim comes in from the doctor to report that there was a ‘tard woman in the waiting room, and that she peed in her pants. She said, "It’s a good thing you weren’t there, because she probably would have been sitting on your lap."

She's probably right.

Bob Denver 1935-2005

(AP) Bob Denver, whose portrayal of goofy first mate Gilligan on the 1964-67 television show "Gilligan's Island" made him an iconic figure to generations of TV viewers, died Friday, September 2 at Wake Forest University Baptist Hospital in North Carolina, his agent confirmed Tuesday. He was 70.

Man, this is a tough one for me.

I grew up watching Gilligan's Island, first discovering the reruns on WTCG/17 Atlanta somewhere in the late 1970s. There were only 98 episodes produced, and I believe that I've seen each one at least 15 times. I was really into the show when NBC aired "Rescue from Gilligan's Island" in the fall of 1978, so a Gilligan movie was like Christmas in October.

I had a white sailor's hat (just like Gilligan's, recently unearthed and now in my studio) and my friend Doug and I played "Gilligan" every single day. On school picture day, I insisted on wearing my red "Gilligan shirt" (couldn't get away with wearing the hat). I had the "Gilligan's Floating Island" Playskool toy with the Skipper, Gilligan and MaryAnn figures. I painted "SS Minnow" on the side of a plastic model boat. "Gilligan" was on channel 17 every day at 4:30 for years, and I watched every single day.

Knowing that Bob Denver is gone makes me profoundly sad becasue he was such a part of my life back then. I picture Alan Hale Jr. (the Skipper) waiting for Bob at the pearly gates, grabbing him in a huge bear hug. That makes me smile.

Rest in peace, little buddy.

Peter Jennings, furniture follies and FOOTBALL!

2005-08-01T15:15:00.000-04:00

Getting healthier...

First off, I have to announce that I have dropped 17 pounds on my low-sugar diabetic diet. I've also been exercising and plan on ramping that up even more as soon as this oppressive heat dissipates.

Peter Jennings, 1938-2005

I received this e-mail from Stephanie in regards to Peter Jennings:
"Sunday night, I smoked the last cigarette in the house. I knew I needed to run out and get more. At 10:30, the ABC News special report came on, and Charles Gibson announced that Peter Jennings had died of lung cancer. I never went out and got more cigarettes and won't today either. If Mr. Jennings wanted to impact people and make a difference about smoking and people stopping, he did with me yesterday."

Good luck, Stephanie.

Peter was one hell of a reporter and by all accounts a nice, down-to-earth guy too. He ate, slept and breathed the news and the art of reporting it well and accurately. I also considered him to be the least-tained-by-the-left in terms of on-air slant. I liked him for that and I grew to have a deep respect for him during ABC's coverage of the September 11 attacks.

As an anchor, he was the smoothest. As a reporter, he was balls-out the best. As a co-worker, it seems he was respected and loved. I hope his legacy will include many of his viewers giving up smoking. He'd like that.

Wal-Mart furniture SUCKS

Now, on to an adventure in furniture buying. The wife and I went out looking for a desk for my new home office. I wanted something that not only would hold my computer, but also give me some desktop space for writing. After looking at several stores, I picked out a desk at Wal-Mart that included an extra bookshelf. I thought this would solve all my storage problems. So I went home, got my truck, went back to WallyWorld and bought it. It weighed about 200 pounds in the box, but I managed to get it in a cart and up to the checkout, out of the store, into my truck and home.

The next day, I started working on putting it together, starting with the metal frame. After that was assembled, I was ready to attach the "wood" part (note the quotation marks, this will be important in a second). When I went to drive the screws into the "wood," it was like trying to drill into a graham cracker. It crumbled! Every damn screw would make the pre-fab shit grind up and flake off into itty-bitty bits.

So I shoved what I could of the son of a bitch back into the box (not all of it, it wouldn't fit), loaded back into my truck (my back and testicles roaring all the way from all the lifting), and got my money back. I'll give Wal-Mart this much: They don't screw around when it comes to returns. They'll take anything back, it doesn't even matter if you've lost the receipt and the box. I believe that you could eat a bag of grapes, decide you didn't like them, shit them back out and return the turd for full credit. (I've never tried this, it's just an opinion.)

Anyhow, I still needed a fucking desk, and by now it's getting on in the afternoon. I remembered seeing a great-looking desk with a huge top (me and huge tops, I know) the day before at BigLots, so I headed back there. BigLots has it figured out, particularly where it concerns furniture. I got a real wood (not laminated pressboard, REAL WOOD) desk that all I had to do was slide out of the box and attach the legs to with four big-ass bolts, a process that took about eight minutes. My desk is big and it looks great, with plenty of desktop space for the computer as well as room for pen-and-paper handwriting. And it was LESS than the piece o' squeeze I bought in the first place.

I'm loving my new office. Now I have two rooms in the house that are just for me. That may seem like a bit much, but my wife actually has three: Her office, the laundry room and the kitchen!

Are you ready for some footbaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaalllllll?

The Atlanta Falcons started their 2005 campaign with an exhibition game in Tokyo, Japan versus the Indianapolis Colts. The game was on ESPN2 at 5am local time and I was up to watch it. (I know, but its pro football. Now do you understand?) The Falcons won, and Vick and backup QB Matt Scahub both looked sharp. When Peyton Manning threw that interception, I thought he might cry. I can't stand him, his brother Eli or their daddy Archie. To me, they're just a trio of alpha-male assholes who think they're never supposed to lose and don't know how to react when something goes wrong.

Anyhow, I believe that these Falcons have a good shot at winning every game, with the possible exception of the New England game on October 9. I say they'll go 12-4 and face the Eagles in the NFC Championship Game, which they will win, likely resulting in a rematch of this Saturday's exhibition game in the Super Bowl.

Just watch.

Brian's favorite radio hits:
Weezer, "Beverly Hills"
Gwen Stefani, "Hollaback Girl"
D.H.T., "Listen To Your Heart"
Black Eyed Peas, "Don't Phunk With My Heart"
Coldplay, "Speed of Sound"

The most wonderful time of the year!

2004-12-28T20:54:00.000-05:00

I love Christmas. It just may be my favorite time of the year (next to when pro and college football and the baseball playoffs are all going on at the same time).

This was our first Christmas in the new house, and it sure was different here than it was in the condo. For the first time ever, we hosted both my and my wife's extended-family's Christmas celebrations, and that was a lot of fun, although I can say without a doubt that we will never again do both in the same year! It's a lot of work!

Brandon got a neat train set that he loves. It's Fisher-Price GeoTrax system, and it's a lot of fun, with all the different parts and pieces. I can already see that I'll be spending more on accessories really soon!

One of my favorite parts of Christmas Eve is when all the radio stations go all-Christmas music (even the news/talk ones, which usually run Kris Erik Stevens' superior The Magic of Christmas) and it's quiet, the kids are asleep, the tree is lit and there's a fire in the fireplace. I made a huge pot of coffee and sat and read for a while and then Kim came in and sat on the sofa with me, and we relaxed and talked, then headed for bed before Santa caught us awake.

Christmas has it over all other holidays because it's the one time of the year when everything stops and there really is nothing else to do but relax. I think there should be a day like this every three months!

Hope all ya'll have a great (and safe) New Year celebration! See you in 2005!!

The "Big Radio Break" is BULLSHIT!

2004-09-10T18:50:00.000-04:00

I got an e-mail from someone who knew me from my days as a boss Top 40 DJ, asking me how he could get his "Big Radio Break." His questions hit a nerve with me, and I would like to offer my own experience for all who may follow.

I always loved radio, from the time I was a little squirt listening to the old Z-93 of the 1970s. I was still very young when I decided that radio was the career for me. I even put together a makeshift studio in my bedroom and practiced, practiced, practiced!

When I graduated from high school I enrolled in a college that had a very specific Radio and Television Broadcasting degree program. I wound up on the air at the community radio station (WOTA) within the first few months, and a buddy of mine and I ended up running the station shortly thereafter.

We flipped the format to mainstream CHR and sounded as good as the big-boy stations downtown. Our demo tapes always sounded unbelievably smooth, and program directors admired us for taking on a commercial bent when most community stations were just screwing around with obscure country music or "dollar-a-holler" religious formats.

I really thought I was going all...the...way...to...the...top!

Boy did I have absolutely no fucking clue how frustrating the radio business would be. It started when others at WOTA started landing paying jobs without finishing their degrees. Not that I was mad at the people that got the breaks, because I sure as shit would have taken one too if I had gotten one. I was pissed at the managers and programmers that held all the cards and made those decisions. It really didn't seem fair, since I worked hard and helped run (and program) WOTA, the station that was starting many of those lucrative careers. If WOTA hadn't insisted on structure and professionalism (which shined thru on those demo tapes) they wouldn't have gotten those jobs.

I did an internship at one of those big-boy stations for three months (helping a young Ryan Seacrest, who was only 16 and on the air already) and was told by the program director that when I finished my degree (which was about five months away) that I should come back and see him about joining as his assistant PD. I was excited and kept in touch with him, right up until he was canned two months later. When I called other contacts at the station, I was persona-non-grata. "Don't call us, we'll call you."

I continued to work on the air and program at WOTA, all the while compiling and mailing tapes and resumes to any and every station in the area. I finished my degree and took a joe job while I continued my search and my WOTA career, although I was no longer a a student at the college that most of the staff came from.

Another four months passed, and then I got a call back from another one of the big-boy stations about one of my tape and resume packages. FINALLY!! They said they'd like me to drive the station van and assist the DJs at live remotes, parties, station functions and such. I was cool with that, it sounded like the elusive "start in radio" I had wanted. So I asked THE question..."How much does it pay?" And the guy laughs...LAUGHS!!! And he says, "It doesn't pay anything. It's an internship." Oh, man, I came unglued! I cussed and spit and yelled "I'M NOT FUCKING WORKING FOR FREE!" Man, I'd done three years for free at WOTA, and a major-market internship too. I yelled, "MY DAYS OF WORKING FOR FREE ARE OVER, ASSHOLE!!" and hung up on him. What a prick!! And I don't regret it a bit.

I moved into another field of interest and started another career, and held on to the WOTA job for another three years, until the station went alternative. Then I bailed.

That, however, was not quite the end of the line for me and radio. The icing-on-the-cake incident occurred several years later when Andrew, one of my WOTA cronies, had become program director of a station in a nearby town. The general manager was ready to can the overnight jock, so my friend called to see if I was interested. HELL YEAH I was! So I went over and filled out the paperwork and met the GM, and he seemed nice enough (appearances can be deceiving). I was actually between jobs at the time (see June 2004 - "Now that guy got canned!") and I turned down a couple of offers for joe-jobs that paid more than this overnight shift did. But it was my "Big Radio Break!" Except that the fat asshole GM went back on his word and kept the hippie motherfucker in overnights anyway, bypassing Andrew (who was stunned and pissed) and leaving me out in the cold and unemployed. Andrew felt horrible about that for a long time (I certainly didn't hold him responsible for the GM's turd-headedness), and the incident (along with a couple of other factors) also led him to leave radio altogether and start his own (very successful) mobile-DJ business.

So, in my experience, there are no "Big Breaks" in radio, and working for free gets you nowhere either. So "volunteer" all you want but be prepared to become a career volunteer. And watch out for the radio general managers of this world. By and large, they are usually lying pieces of shit.

As for me, soon enough I will be back, and this time I will be broadcasting on the internet on a show created by me, that suits me, in a format I have labored long and hard to birth and have tailored for a very specific audience. And I will have done it without Clear Channel, without some asshole general manager breathing down my neck, and without the bright (fuckin' moronic) ideas of all the pencil-pushers and consultants that have ruined radio for the people that truly loved what it was 20, 30, and 40 years ago.

Just you wait!

"Now that guy got canned!"

2004-06-09T20:20:00.001-04:00

Did you ever see that episode of Seinfeld where George says that when he loses a job, he wants people to say, "Wow! Now that guy got canned!"

I went out in a blaze of glory like that once myself.

Many years ago, I took a job in a call center where the reps took inbound calls from customers as well as the company's own outside sales reps. There were roughly fifteen reps, so we each got about three to handle.

When I was hired, I was told that I'd be assigned this salesman named Jack. The supervisor, Nancy (who smelled of beer and cigarettes), told me that Jack was a real piece of work. A "rude asshole yankee," she called him.

Once I was trained and up-to-speed enough to start taking calls on my own, I met Jack. He was a real gentleman. I liked him immediately. Nattily dressed, professional demeanor, and thrilled that his new partner was a guy. He took me to lunch the first day and we talked about the job and how each of us went about our business of getting the customers what they need, when they need it.

When we got back from lunch, Nancy was quick to tell Jack that he couldn't just decide to take me to lunch because the other sales reps didn't do that for their partners and blah blah blah. Jack quickly explained that as long as I was back at work within the alotted lunch period, he could take me to lunch whenever the fuck he wanted and to butt the hell out of his business. He also told her that he and I had much in common on business philosophies and work ethic and he was sure that our partnership would be a prosperous one. You could see the blood drain from her wrinkled old hag-face when he dropped that line on her. And at that moment, the picture became more clear: I was the only guy in Nancy's department and she had no idea how to relate to me or what to do with me, and now that Jack liked me, I must be eliminated.

As Jack and I became more comfortable with how each other worked, we settled into a groove and really developed a friendship as well as a professional symbiosis. This drove Nancy ape-shit, and it showed. She went from cordial to hateful, and she started picking apart everything I did. There was a mandate from upper management that we should do whatever it took to please the sales reps and their clients, yet anything I did was scrutinized (and sometimes slowed down) by Nancy and her myopic glare. When Jack would tell her to back off, she'd dig in and be an even bigger pain in the balls.

One day I was walking by her and she spat forth, "How's it going with Jack?" And I shot back, "If there's a more professional person working for this company, I don't know who it is!" I left her seething. Bitch.

I wondered if Jack had actually done something to piss Nancy off, or if she was just intimidated by his success and long tenure with the company, but this was no simple irritation she had. In Nancy's shit-stained world, I was an accomplice to Jack's continued and growing success. She hated me by association. But didn't we all work for the same company? Weren't we all supposed to be pulling in the same direction, trying to reach the same goals?

Jack and I rolled on for several months. He used to not come in to the office much because of "that bitch Nancy," he said, but now he'd stop by at least once a week. He brought me stuff, just to say "thank you." A gift certificate here, a nice pair of shades there. Hey, he and I were a team, working for a common goal. He was murdering his sales goals because he could keep focused on his job of selling. I was handling the fulfillment end just fine, thankyouverymuch.

And Nancy continued to do a slooow burn, ccontinuing to glare whenever I would come back from lunch with Jack, or trying to distract me and get me off the phone with him while discussing business by mouthing GET OFF THE PHONE. And I’d just look at her disgusting, paunchy, smoked-out self and keep right on with Jack until the business at hand was taken care of.

Here's where my Great Exit comes in:

Every morning as I left home, I would grab the newspaper out of the driveway and take it to work with me. Being the punctual type, I'd usually get to work a good fifteen minutes early, so I'd take my coffee and my newspaper and sit at my desk and read until it was time to hit the clock. At that point, I would fold my paper in half, put it on the credenza behind me, and set my briefcase on top of it, since I was aware that leaving it lying around might make it look as though I was screwing around reading when I should be working.

One day, after riding my ass all morning long, Nancy came to my desk for yet another assholish and insignificant reason and saw the edge of my paper peeking out from under my briefcase.

"You need to move that newspaper," she told me. I spun around and looked to make sure I hadn't inadvertently left some part of it out or dropped some of it on the floor. I hadn't.

"What paper?" I asked.

"That one. That one! THAT newspaper right there! You need to move it!" She was spitting and practically yelling at me. Over a newspaper. That you couldn't even see but the white border of.

I had had enough of her shit.

"You know what, Nancy?" I said, as I pulled the paper out from under the briefcase. "Why don't you take this newspaper and shove it up your ass?" Then I pushed the paper out in front of her, offering it to her for introduction into her nether regions.

"WHAT DID YOU SAY TO ME?" I thought she was going to have a stroke. Or I hoped she would, anyhow.

Slowly and calmly, yet louder so the other reps could hear, I repeated, "Take this newspaper, fold it up really tight, bend over, and stuff it up your fat asshole, you diddering, meddling, paranoid, idiotic bitch!"

I knew I was fired. I called Jack and told him what had happened and what had been going on the last few months and that I had really enjoyed working with him. He said he didn't want me to go, and he would stick up for me, but I knew I was finished.

It took HR all of five minutes to come to my desk and tell me to get out, but I was already packed and ready to go.

But so was Nancy, because I wrote up all the things that she had said about Jack and how she had treated me and sent them to the owner and board of directors, and I copied the labor board too. And about a month after she fired me, old smelly Nancy was dismissed.

Now that guy got canned!

Gay marriage

2004-04-18T19:02:00.000-04:00

What a hot-button issue this has become. I really enjoy listening to people who think that there should be a constitutional amendment to "protect marriage." Know why? Because they're fucking stupid, that's why!

As a married heterosexual male, I believe gay marriage should absolutely be legal. Who is to say that two people, no matter if they are of the same sex, should not be able to get married? If it were a man and a woman, nobody would give a damn. Couples, both straight and gay, love who they love and that's that (and sexual orientation is hard-wired in at birth, folks).

Gay marriages can't and won't "undermine" straight marriages. And marriage doesn't need "protecting." From gays, anyhow. It could use a little protection form the Hollywood "fuck 'em, knock 'em up, marry 'em, cheat on 'em, divorce 'em, then move on to the next 'un" crowd, though. Let's put it this way: If your marriage is capable of being undermined or needs protection, then maybe some self-examination is in order. Hm?

Kim and I have gay friends. Two of them are a couple (and a cute couple at that), and I can tell you that if they decided to get married (and it was legal), I'd be out there throwing rice with everybody else.

And our president (yeah, I voted for him but he's pissin' me off now) needs to keep his nose out of this issue altogether and figure out what to do with that goddamn mess in Iraq. Like maybe fighting to win?

"Alternative" music: Alternative to WHAT?!?

2004-03-12T15:20:00.000-05:00

Back in the early 1990s, when WOTA played Top 40, a new musical sound came out of the bowels of Seattle and set the youth of America on fire. This new shit was called “grunge,” or “alternative” as many radio stations called it.

I prefer to call it “grunge” because the “alternative” radio format had been around for at least 15 years before, usually emanating from not-for-profit, college-based radio stations (WRAS in Atlanta is a prime example). As far back as the late-1970s, those stations played music that was so left-of-normal that it stood no chance of being accepted at for-profit, mainstream commercial radio.

In the first place, that college kids like alternative music mystifies me. To this day, the majority of college radio stations play alternative rock. Who makes these decisions? When we flipped WOTA to Top 40 in 1989, we did a ton of research, both on-campus and in the community. We said whatever the format of choice came back as, that was what we were going to play. Do the students get a say at these alternative stations? Or does a pack of snot-nosed 19-year-olds that know it all make the decision?

Other things about alternative music I don’t get: Why in the hell do people purposely go out and try to find music that isn’t viable in the real world marketplace? Do they think they’re hipper than the rest of us because they know who the Screaming Whale Tits are? And why do these fucking pouty, unkempt alternative musicians insist on being deliberately anti-mainstream? To me, alternative means “I've created some music that sucks, and I know that it’ll never get played on commercial radio. That makes me so cool!” Really, it just underscores that you suck, and it draws attention to your lack of commercial success. You’re just trying to be an asshole about it and you’re lame.

I once dated a myopic girl who was really into alternative bands. She knew all about them and what kind of music they did. She went to the shows (a couple of which I went to and found nothing interesting there except the cheap beer) and bragged about how cutting-edge this shit was. I, on the other hand, grew up on a steady diet of Z-93 radio and Journey and Donna Summer and Foreigner. Needless to say, she and I didn’t agree on music too much. She’d say, “The music’s all about the artistic expression of the artist, not about making money.” And I’d say, “Yeah, right. When one of these clowns puts out a CD, he’s seeking commercial approval and reward. If it’s all about his ‘artistic expression,’ tell him to leave that shit at home.” She also supported the National Endowment of the Arts, which is nothing more than a bunch of liberal shit-asses that think artists should be supported by the government if they can’t succeed on their own. I’d tell her, “If their music habit can’t support them financially, then go learn to run a grill at the Waffle House, or shovel monkey turds at the circus, or get a job laying pavement. And play your guitar on the weekend for your own amusement when you have the time.”

“Grunge” was alternative music, for sure, but grittier in sound (and appearance, since many of these musicians looked like they never bathed). It was also stupefyingly depressing, negative music that spoke favorably of suicide and drugs. I never liked grunge and was thrilled when Kurt Cobain put that shotgun in his mouth, because at that point the beginning of the end of grunge was at hand. By this time, though, many Top 40 stations around the country had flipped to embrace grunge as the new mainstream. I said at the time that alternative/grunge was a fad format and it would play out quickly. It’s too bad it didn’t play out quickly enough to keep WOTA from going full-time alternative in 1996. If not for that moronic decision by the station’s management, it might still be on the air today.

Kurt Cobain also really used to chafe my ass when he’d complain that he didn’t want to be famous. Well, boo-hoo-hoo, you smack-addled prick, when you stuck your fucking album out there you asked for commercial success. Now deal with it you asshole ingrate! The day after they found him with his brains scattered all over his garage, I went on the air and played the opening notes of “Smells Like Teen Spirit,” then interrupted it with a couple of gunshots. Then I opened the microphone and said, “I’m glad that’s over.” Calls ran about 50/50 on old Kurt but I was sure glad that fucker was dead.

In the mid-2000s, some of the stations that flipped to grunge in the early 1990s were still around, although most of them have had to go back and start playing those hits of ten and fifteen years ago to fill out their playlists, since all of the rock music that’s any good is accepted at mainstream pop radio, alongside Jessica Simpson, Destiny’s Child and Usher. “Alternative” is an empty format term now, since so much of today’s mainstream rock would have fallen under the "alternative" category ten years ago simply because nobody was doing power-pop back then. When people talk of "alternative" music now, I say, “Alternative to what?”

One final note: I suppose you could call Air America, the liberal radio network, “alternative talk radio,” since it, just like the grunge that preceded it fifteen years ago, is shit that nobody really wants to listen to.