The coolest damn toy in the whole wide world...EVER!

I was quite blessed growing up to have to loving parents that provided for me and my sister in many tangible and intangible ways. I never had to worry about my food or shelter or anything, and Santa Claus was always overly generous. One thing that we received from him one year was the MAC (Mobile Action Command) series of action figures by the Matchbox Car company. These were intrepid adventurers and rescuers that followed me through a wide variety of adventures in at least two states. Their secret mountain headquarters had everything that intrepid rescuers and adventurers might require to aid them (except women and beer, but that is a different action adventurer). I miss playing with them and thank my parents for their largess. I have GOT to find those guys...

A few comments on Knoxville concerts, concert-goers, and encores

Last night, we went to see Lou Reed in concert at the Tennessee Theatre. He sort of stumbled onto the stage and seemed, initially, disoriented. But, his band was great and the whole affair soon gelled into a pretty rocking affair, with a few Velvet Underground songs thrown in for good measure, including a fairly decent rendition of "Sweet Jane." After about seventy minutes, the band left the stage, returning a few minutes later for an encore of "Perfect Day." Then it was over.

One thing that I have noticed, over the years, is that Knoxville concerts often seem like a place to do everything but watch a band. Especially at the Tennessee Theatre. Cell phone calls, chatting with friends, CONSTANTLY getting up to go get beer or liquor. That can be distracting to those that want to watch the band. Especially when this is going on around you, like it was to us last night. A father and son sat behind us and talked through the first half of the concert. Now, for those of you unfamiliar with Lou Reed, he is recognized as one of the forefathers of punk music and, as such, there were several songs that contained walls of feedback and heavy riffing - quite loud and room filling. So, my peturbness, if you will, with this father and son was that their talking was intelligible OVER Lou Reed's band! I finally turned around and told them to please be quiet, which made them sheepishly cower down into their seats. The father apologized after the concert, and I graciously accepted his apology, but c'mon, we didn't pay $50 a ticket to listen to these yahoos talk about the son's flippin' troubles with girls at UT!

Finally, I have a word about encores. I HATE THEM! Why does a band or a performer think that we should have to scream for them to grace us with one more song after they only played the barest minimum of a set to begin with? Not that I am a big fan of his, but John Mellencamp refuses to do encores, believing that a band should come out and give 110% for 3 hours and then leave. I tend to agree with his philosophy. Are these bands and performers that big of ego cases that they want to lord it over us about the fact that we have paid lots of money to see them and THEY control the relationship? It was cool to see Lou Reed and all that, but c'mon, man, throw us a few bones!

A couple of Stiffs...

I'm back on the Stiffs - Dave Edmunds, Nick Lowe, Elvis Costello, Rockpile. I want to start a new wave band - Ruthless Jonah and the Marble City Rockets. Whose with me?

Girls would talk about us, because we would be so sexy and exciting!
Enjoy!

Victory!

ABD, repeat after me, sing "Nah Nah Nah Nah!"

Dily Lama - an arresting update

After further investigation, I have discovered, and I am sad to report, that Dillard Clark has passed on to his final reward. I was unaware of this, having not visited with him for years. I was reminded that he used to tell me to keep my aftershave in the fridge to keep it potent. And, as my sister pointed out, he was a member of our church and contributed an original recipe to the church cookbook for cantaloupe pie. We have decided to make it, despite our hatred of cantaloupe, in honor of the man. I've included a video of the Beatles, Dillard's favorite band, here for all of us to remember him by as we get ready to make his unique pie. So, here's to you, Dillard, and hope you have found peace as much as you gave to others!


I also include "Legend of a Mind" by the Moody Blues - you'll understand why if you don't already.

Enjoy!

Why is this so funny?

Enjoy?

Immanentizing the eschaton...with a cork wheel

Years ago, I was introduced to the concept of Gombligernicampoikananity, which is a religious view based on the idea that someday a large cork wheel, like those used to polish glass (see picture), will descend from the heavens and devour 1/10 of the world's population. Now, while I subscribe to the Judeo-Christian tenets of religious observance, this particular ethos has always seemed to me like an appropriately dreadful belief, especially tailored for someone in graduate school. What happens if this occurs before I can turn in my assignments? Will the teachers believe me when I tell them that this is why I couldn't turn my paper in on time? Would such an event free me from having to go through the comprehensive exam gauntlet? Is this something to be brought on by the faithful here on earth? Or is it a more random event like a magic eight ball? If it weren't for my long held beliefs, this cork wheel deal would probably make me shudder with fear...

Quicksilver - the Citizen Kane of bike messenger movies

This weekend, I was watching the afternoon movie on Sunday. It is usually some forgotten (deservedly) film from the eighties that went straight to video. However, this weekend was different, in that I witnessed a long forgotten jem of American cinema that demands repeated study - Quicksilver. Starring Kevin Bacon, a youthful Jamie Gertz and Larry Fishburne, and several actors that went on to illustrious careers as game show hosts or infomercial spokespersons, this film leaps from the screen in ways that most films can only aspire to reproduce. The social commentary is biting, the mise en scène sublime, and the acting so effortless you would swear that you were being reborn anew after each watching! How could this masterpiece have been lost to the public? Why has it not recieved the accolades it deserves? Why hasn't Criterion rereleased a two disc DVD set with commentary from Harold Bloom?

Enjoy!

Crazy Mary

One of the claims to fame for my neck of the woods is that officials in Kingsport, Tennessee decided, in 1916, to execute an elephant named Big Mary who had killed her abusive handler by, among other things, stomping on his head until it went "pop." Being good proponents of all things involving lynching, the local authorities decided that hanging was the best way to dispatch the poor beast, after several other methods had been tried without success.

However, Kingsport then was not the industrial mecca that it is now, and so the town officials were forced to take Mary over to Erwin, Tennessee to the train yards and use the large cranes available there to string her up (see accompanying picture). I mention this because there was a punk band in Johnson City called Crazy Mary who had a logo that said "Hung Like an Elephant!" Now, that's punk rock, baby!

Homage to an old employer...

When I was a young lad, I took a job at a local restaurant in Kingsport called Pratt's Barn. They were proclaimed, by the local radio adverts, as being "THE place for Breakfast and Barbeque!" The owners had recently relinquished control over the establishment to their son, who seemed less interested in the day to day running of the place and more interested in pursuing a roustabout lifestyle with a bevy of buxom blonde and brunette bimbos, many of whom became waitresses at Pratt's. This was a wonderful selling point for working there, especially for a young lad such as myself experiencing the full assault of puberty.

However, that was about all the place had going for it. The food was alright, when the chef was sober, but the health code violations would probably have gotten us on Don Dare's program. The waitresses, while easy on the eyes and generally nice to me, tended to be bitchy and manipulative, especially when it came to their speculations as to which one of them was currently sleeping with the boss. And the managers were a group of petty micromanagers with a penchant for overcomplicating the simplest of tasks.

A giant Indian statue, made of concrete and fiberglass, stood in front of the building. One time, when I was cleaning it for spider webs, I knocked the loin cloth off. That should be on my headstone. That, or "Nobody Beats Our Meat." But that's another story for another time...