Workin' at the Car Wash

Today started out fairly lazy -- washing dishes, catching up on some email, etc. After finally getting off my "blessed assurance" and going to wash my car, I noticed it was sprinkling a little. Great timing. Anyway, I decided to wash the car anyway because it was pretty dirty.
I go to a coin-op car wash that is always a cultural experience, I get to catch up on all the latest in Tejano, Nortena, Merengue music, basically anything with rip-roaring accordions blaring out of car stereos. I feel badly for the people who live in the apartments adjoining the car wash!
Anyway, as I was lathering up the Saturn in the vend-o-squirt, I noticed that all of the stalls had filled up and a few people were waiting. So I slowed way down. Just kidding! I tried to finish up quickly and get out of the stall for the next person. I jumped in the car and maneuvered to one of the vacuum stations (several slots down, as the one directly in front of me was occupied. As I was knocking the water off the car with my trusty California Water Blade, in the corner of my eye I noticed a guy walking up to me. This happens a lot, where someone 'volunteers' to wash or dry your car for a few bucks... so as I was formulating my polite but firm refusal in my head, I turned and noticed that this guy was (a) on the phone, (b) not really paying attention to me at all, and (c) had a ziplock bag of quarters in his hand... the bag of quarters I'd left at the control panel/coin receiver in my stall. I thanked him somewhat profusely as he handed them to me, and he never even paused in his phone conversation as he turned and and went back to his truck.
I have to say, that was a very pleasant and unexpected surprise! I am a little sad that it was so unexpected for two reasons: (1)-it's just today's reality, but (2)- it probably says something about my attitude towards others. So, while being very happy about the return of my quarters, I was a little disappointed in my initial reaction to noticing the approach of this stranger. Maybe next time I'll extend the benefit of the doubt a little more graciously. At least I'd like to think I will.
Oh, and it started raining while I was typing this.

Trying to get the old fire back

Once upon a time, I thought I was going to be an artist. Over the years, the creative bug has had long periods of hibernation, but sometimes it wakes up, walks outside the cave and takes a look around.

The latest urge was to do something mixed media, sort of an 'altered' piece/collage/painted... well, whatever. I have these old red 45rpm records that were my mother's (let's just say they don't play so good nowadays), they are actually opera records. There are a lot of singers in my family (yours truly is not one of them), and my niece just started school at Berklee in Boston. I thought if I could put something together around the singing theme and incorporate one of the old records, I'd send it to her to put in her dorm room.

There are different ways to approach a painting or any art project, you can plan it out painstakingly, sketch it out, etc.... or you can just wing it. I chose the latter on this one. Therefore, it took some weird turns along the way. I think this is done, but I'm not thrilled with it.

Michael Vick Revisited

Today after his guilty plea, Michael Vick did what I think is the right thing: Took responsibility for his actions.

In this day and age, that is somewhat astounding. Instead of making a bunch of excuses, he apologized to his teammates, the team management, and most importantly, kids that might look at him as a role model.

He didn't seem to be trying to get out of whatever punishment will come his way, and mentioned that he had to work on "Michael Vick the person", not "Michael Vick the football player".

I can only hope that he is sincere and will learn/grow from the experience. I also think that if the NFL bans him for life, that's the consequence of messing with gambling of any sort when you are in a sport that is bet on.

I also still think that the comments from the NAACP leader were ludicrous. The road to redemption for Vick will be tough, but he will deal with it himself. His personal growth will be between him and God. His professional fate is in the hands of the NFL. His criminal punishment is in the hands of a judge. His fate with the public is up to us, the public. Where does the NAACP come in to this? It doesn't. It can't give Michael Vick his job back, spring him from jail, make him a better man, or convince us to love him. There may be no more irrelevant organization on the planet (except for the hundreds of federal government organizations, I suppose!).

Michael Vick is no victim. He engaged in thug-like & criminal behavior, got caught, and will pay a price. It remains to be seen if he has learned his lesson. I pray that he will turn the corner and use his fame to warn other would-be scofflaws that even the high and mighty can't just do what they want.

One of the headlines contained a quote "I've found Jesus", but I didn't see it in the body of the article. I sure hope that this is true and sincere, and that Michael will take his punishment and return as a warrior for Christ and not just the Atlanta Falcons. That would be a great story of redemption. Jesus Christ changes lives, changes hearts. Not race-baiting organizations that have to trade in poverty-pimping and victimhood to keep themselves in existence. I anxiously await the next chapters of this guy's life.

When's the Darwinist Reformation?

This quote jumped out at me from an article on brietbart.com entitled "Fossil Find Pushes Human-Ape Split Back Millions of Years"

"We know nothing about how the human line actually emerged from apes," the authors of the paper noted.

But, if anyone dare suggest that the human line DIDN'T emerge from apes... you're a religious extremist. Way to go, science! Posit your theory as fact and spend the next 150 years twisting, turning, spinning and forcing "evidence" to support it.

Wow. I thought a theory was just that: A theory. Until PROVEN. Silly me. I'm sure this latest hole in the 'theory' won't deter the religious extremists of Darwinism, however. :::yawn:::

Michael Vick: Get Out The Violins

OK, I have to get this off my chest.
Michael Vick is about to plead guilty to felony offenses related to the dogfighting indictments against him. FELONY OFFENSES.
However, as I predicted to many of my friends, Mr. Vick is now being portrayed as a victim and the NAACP (what is the relevance of this organization in 2007?) is "pleading" with the NFL to reinstate Vick once he's out of jail. Here's the quote:

"As a society, we should aid in his rehabilitation and welcome a new Michael Vick back into the community without a permanent loss of his career in football," said R.L. White, president of the NAACP's Atlanta chapter. "We further ask the NFL, Falcons, and the sponsors not to permanently ban Mr. Vick from his ability to bring hours of enjoyment to fans all over this country."

WHAT THE !#$%#$^???!!!

Michael Vick is about to plead guilty to animal cruelty, interstate illegal gambling, and Lord knows what else. These are CRIMES. CRIMES.

However, Don Imus, a curmudgeon of talk radio... called some people names. But HE is supposed to pay with his career. He's even being sued by one of the players involved (after, I might add, she and the rest of the team FORMALLY accepted his apology -- but I'm sure it isn't about money, oh no). What about banning Mr. Imus from his ability to bring hours of enjoyment to fans all over this country?

Hmm, sure. It's only fair. White guy calls black people some names, we can't have that! OH no. We'll even muster up new definitions of those names to make them sound more derogatory than they were ever intended, just to make SURE no one will touch the guy with a 10-foot pole.

But, if a black guy exhibits the most extreme stupidity and takes his position of wealth and fame and throws it away on thug-like criminal behavior, builds a facility intended for ILLEGAL activities, tortures and kills helpless animals in brutal and disgusting ways, gets caught, is pleading GUILTY... we're supposed to look the other way, extend the olive branch, focus on his redeeming qualities, and let him have his multi-million-dollar job back AFTER HE SERVES TIME(!)...

OK, I know I'm pointing out the obvious (at least I HOPE it's obvious). The blatant racist hypocrisy exhibited by so-called "Leaders of the African-American Community" is setting back "The Struggle" by decades, if not centuries.

Let's talk about redeeming qualities for a minute. You may think Don Imus is a disgusting sack of human flotsam, but he and his wife, Deidre, run a ranch for kids with cancer. They don't just "fund a foundation", they RUN it. WORK it. Hands on, with the kids, every year. Giving them hope and a season of life-changing activities. They are raising awareness and money for the cause of Autism - calling out politicians who flip-flop or are soft on the issue (Don used to be able to lambaste them live on the air). They've invented a line of cleaning products that get the carcinogenic and otherwise toxic chemicals out of homes and hospitals. He's a staunch advocate for veterans, and was instrumental in the building of the Veteran's Center for the Intrepid in San Antonio. Hey, I may think the guy is a flaming liberal, but at least he is taking ACTION where so many others spout off about how the government needs to run our lives. This guy puts his money where his sizable mouth is and I will say has a lot more redeeming qualities than a man gifted with athletic prowess who can't see past his own ego.

I Want My MTV (moment to do over)!

The year was 1990. I was the Music Director at a venue called ClubLand in Detroit, MI. ClubLand was a concept created by Steve Jarvis. The idea was to take an existing theater space and turn it into a nightclub and multipurpose venue. The main physical things were to remove the sloped theater seating on the ground floor, put in stepped levels and add cabaret-style seating. The stage itself, and the area immediately in front of the stage would become dance floor. A large video wall would be installed upstage to create a dynamic multimedia backdrop for the night's activities. Three large projection screens would then be installed above that, which enabled many different visual pieces to happen consecutively. Those large screens were retractable so that they could also act as a curtain for performers on a platform atop the video wall. Add in a killer sound system and light show, and a bunch of bars...
The first ClubLand was in Chicago at the Vic Theater, then Houston's Tower Theater followed, with Detroit (in the State Theater, now the Detroit Fillmore) being the third and largest by far. They tried Worcester, MA (now the Palladium) and Key West, FL as well, to less success. The State Theater in Detroit was a historic theater built in 1925 and was just beautiful.

The entertainment concept was unique among nightclubs: Sure, you had programmed music (a DJ - that was me), but there was a lot more. Since the stage was a natural focal point for the crowd (and not everyone is a dancer, many preferring to people-watch), we actually had an MC, a dance troupe, and guest musicians. This in addition to all sorts of video 'bits' that could be something as simple as text scrolling on the big screens, to pre-taped comedy bits, live camera interaction, and of course, music videos. We had an elaborate DJ booth that housed lighting control, the audio gear/records/videotapes, and the video switching and routing command center. Pretty high tech for its day, I must say.
The dance troupe consisted of usually 6 dancers that constantly worked up routines to either various songs of the day. There was a professional choreographer who worked with them and they actually did a great job, considering 90% of their routines were performed on a 6' deep platform with no front railing to keep them from plunging off the top of the video wall. OSHA who? The guest musicians would also perform up there, usually a guitarist or sax player who would jam over pre-determined songs 3 times during the night. We got pretty creative sometimes, though, and had a trombone player (Bugs Beddow! Still remember that guy - he could wail. On flute, too!) and even a drummer (Dennis White)[2] with an electronic kit -- that was great fun. He and I would "trade eights" like live musicians do, me scratching in and out of records, him playing all sorts of cools stuff (he had a lot of sample triggers & such).
Most of these entertainment elements were 'seamless' to the clubgoers as to not disrupt dance floor activity, you could watch and/or pay attention, or you could just dance your butt off. Occasionally, though, we'd do some sort of skit that stopped the action and turned the place into a theater for a couple of minutes (our "Mandatory Union Break" was pretty funny). All in all, it was very successful, as it was varied enough that most everyone found something to really like about it.
When the nightclub wasn't in operation, we'd use the venue for concerts, corporate events, fashion shows, beauty pageants, whatever. I still remember Ford debuting the Escort there (whee!)-- they even had the lady who sang the jingle "Have you driven a Ford... lately?" come sing it live as a surprise to the Ford execs. The wild stories of the "urban" Hair Shows will have to wait.
Anyway, during this same time, MTV was running a show they called "24-Hour Street Party", where Downtown Julie Brown would visit some club in America, they'd tape some segments, and then edit them into a show for broadcast (she'd intro videos 'live' from the club, chat with various people, etc.). They came to ClubLand on November 1 (no, I don't remember that date, someone very nice at Clubland made me a 'scrapbook' of sorts with xeroxes of nearly every event flier and ad we ever had - thanks, Wendy!) and we had SNAP! in concert that night as well as the usual club madness (no, SNAP! wasn't a real band, but they pulled together enough musicians to pull off a tour, just like Inner City and other house music outfits). So, Julie and her camera crew were shooting intros/outros from various places in the club, and also getting quick interviews with bartenders, patrons, and of course... the DJ. Well, I was thinking about what glib and funny things I might say, and Julie came down to the booth to talk to me before recording. She asked me if I had a "handle" as many DJs do (I never used one), and said "OK, we'll be back in a little while to roll tape". Keep in mind, this is in the middle of a screamingly loud room, SNAP! wasn't on stage at the time so I was busy spinning records. Apparently when Julie said "in a little while" she meant "now". She basically turned around, waved her cameraman in, and came right back to me. Her first question, of course, was about "what crazy, cool DJ handle" I used, to which I had to answer "Clay" -- first dork moment of the evening. Then, she says, "Well, CLAY..have you..." and then she turned away from me towards the camera and I couldn't hear what she said. Next thing I know, she has turned back around with the mic in my face... and I got nuthin'. Not to mention, my record is running out and I've got to get the next one going. So I kind of went "...Heh-heh... well..." and had to grab for the turntable. She said some sort of goodbye and they went on to the next bit. Horrible! I was pretty red-faced over it, and had NO idea what she'd said. Much later, after the episode aired and someone got a tape, I found out she'd said "Well, CLAY, have you seen anything really funky go on around here?" -- which I'm not sure I would have had much of an answer for anyway... what kind of a question is that? I guess I could have told her of all the times we'd caught people in flagrante delicto up in the balcony...
Luckily, not that many people really watch MTV. I did have one old girlfriend from Pittsburgh (5 years earlier) call and tell me she saw it, but that was it.
All in all, my 15 minutes seconds of fame was a bust! I did get to spend a little time with DJB though, and she was very friendly and down-to-earth (a refreshing change from TV-types, including one of her predecessors, Mark Goodman, who was a total jerk when I met him years prior).

Six Degrees part II

OK, I promised to mention what got me on my Atlanta kick. A few months ago, I was able to find and purchase a copy of the very first Mother's Finest album (self-titled, RCA from 1972... not to be confused with a second "debut", on CBS in 1976, also self-titled) . This is a rare record that was never released on CD. More recently, I'd decided to record it into my computer & burn it onto CD so I could listen to it wherever. Also, randomly, I came across a copy of The Producers' "You Make the Heat" album at a thrift store. It was in really good shape and now I had more motivation to get the recording done (this album is also unavailable on CD). So, I got to tracking. There were some technical difficulties, however, and I was getting a weird noise on the files. I thought that maybe my cartridge/stylus had something to do with it and began looking for another that I knew I had somewhere. That turned into about a 2-hour search. While I was looking for the needle in the haystack (pun fully intended), I came across a very old address book that had my old Atlanta names/numbers in it.
So here I am recording LPs of Atlanta bands, and find my Atlanta address book. It was all just a little weird. Flipping through, I just started reminiscing a little and wondering about some of the people I'd worked with & been friends with so many years ago.
I decided to "Google" one of my friends, expecting to come up empty (happens with the females, they tend to change last names at some point in life for some reason). Anyway, a hit did come up on a "friends of animals"-type website. She had answered someone's post about how to humanely trap feral cats. I was able to get a message to her through that kittie-pal website and it was indeed my friend, and we have corresponded a little since.
Having moved so many times during my 20s & 30s, it's pretty much impossible to keep up with everyone (and considering I'm terrible at it to begin with, it is a lost cause). So it's always a big deal when I re-connect with someone. Lately, I've re-established some other friendships as well, mostly from Pittsburgh. Unfortunately, it took the death of one of our friends to get us talking again. Some folks are doing great, others have had hard times with illnesses, loss of family members, that sort of thing. Makes me wish I'd been around for them.
Everyone has a story. I guess that's one reason why these blogs are so popular. Even if no one else cares or even reads, you can tell your story. You can tell it when you want, how you want, when the urge strikes. I suppose that's a good thing.

I need to remember to write about the time I got on MTV. Not terribly exciting (and actually a little embarrassing), but fun.

"On The Prowl" (1984)

I figured I'd get my 1984 class project video up on YouTube... it's what you do nowadays, is it not? Some history of the video is on the previous entry. It looks like the audio got way out of sync with the video when this got processed by YouTube (and the video quality is pretty bad -- started with a low-res .wmv file)... but what can you do.

Six Degrees of Separation, Atlanta-Style

I've recently had some nostalgic "deja-vu" moments, all going back to my time in Atlanta, Georgia.
In 1983, after getting an AA from St. Petersburg Jr. College (FL), I attended The Music Business Institute in Atlanta. At the time, this school was an independent program founded by Mert Paul, a former CBS executive to give people an overview and real-world instruction in the ways of the music business (It was purchased by the Art Institutes and developed into their recording/production track). One of the "guest lecturers" that came to speak to us during my tenure was Wyzard (Jerry Seay), who was currently the touring bass player for Stevie Nicks. However, Wyz was also a member of Mother's Finest [2], an Atlanta act that had regional success in the 70's and enjoys a cult following today.
That was the first time I'd heard of Mother's Finest. File away "Mother's Finest" in your head.
Also in school, for our video production class, we had to do a project and no one in my class was very pro-active. I'd been listening to a local band called "Bareback", headed by keyboardist Doug Bare.

I approached them and asked if they'd let us shoot a music video with them for our project. They thought it sounded like a hoot, and they'd get a free video out of the deal! The video turned out OK (it was early '84 at the time and MTV was just out of its infancy, remember), and got some play on a local UHF music video channel. My only directing credit!
The guitar player for Bareback was Tommy Strain, who'd been in the one-hit wonder 70s group Starbuck ("Moonlight Feels Right). He is still playing in Atlanta and the "On The Prowl" video is actually available on his website! Thanks, Tommy! You are a sick puppy.
Both Doug and Tommy had toured with Mother's Finest, I believe in 1983. So, another connection.
As another school project, in our Concert Production class, some of us actually did a little field trip for extra credit. The Atlanta Music Awards show was going on and somehow one of our teachers got us to be stagehands for the show. There were some live acts playing, the headliners being The Producers. These guys were phenomenal. Sadly, bad management pretty much robbed them of their stardom. In our Artist Management class, they were the poster children for a raw deal. They too have a huge cult following today and I am a proud fan. The bass player/vocalist for The Producers is Kyle Henderson. Little did I know, Kyle had been in a band called "Whiteface" with Doug Bare back in the late 70s. Ain't this convoluted?

A little later, I found myself working for a nightclub called Confetti and there were a couple of Mother's Finest songs that would always raise the roof off the place ("Baby Love" and "Piece of the Rock"). Now, the nightclub gig wasn't paying the bills at the time, so I picked up a part time job filling phoned-in ticket orders for a venue called Chastain Park. We'd get a pile of credit card slips from the answering service and would verify the cards, pull the tickets, stuff the envelopes, and mail them to the customers. Sounds incredibly exciting, doesn't it? Anyway, one of my coworkers was a lady named Terra Moore. It turns out, she was the wife of Gary "Moses Mo" Moore, the guitar player in, you guessed it, Mother's Finest (MySpace page here). OK, that's enough for the moment. I'll get to the current stuff next time.

Mind-Reading Websites

I use NetFlix for renting movies, as do 5 kajillion others. Anyway, like Tivo, Netflix takes a look at what you've rented/watched in the past and tries to make recommendations of other movies/shows you might like. Netflix doesn't doo too bad of a job, but this one struck me as funny.

According to Netflix, since I enjoyed:
The Passion of the Christ
Ray
Coach Carter

They thought they'd recommend:




Of Course! Who wouldn't? Seriously, though -- what's the connection? None of the above were comedies, that's for sure. This just don't make no sense.

SIMPSONIZE YO'SELF!

OK, this is too cool. You'll need an uploadable photo of yourself and a few minutes for 'tweaking', but this is genius!

Here's me:


And here's the site:

http://simpsonizeme.com/

Anyone Need A House In Florida?

Man,

It has now been over one year and my parents still can't sell their house in St. Petersburg.
My heart just aches for them, I know that they are not enjoying this one little bit. But, at the same time, I am frustrated.
Many of the problems that have occurred during the saga stem from their trusting nature (or is it Naivety?) plus the fact that they, for some reason, decided to sell their old home by themselves. No fixing up, no improvements, no consideration of curb appeal, etc. So now the house sits looking "unlived in" without a lick of furniture inside, and nothing to help the looks of the outside either. I'll spare you the details of the debacle involving the people who they let move in, on a "promise" that they could qualify for a loan (hint: it didn't end well).
My take (and that of my siblings) is that if they are serious, they need to invest a little money and update the bathrooms and kitchen... OR just cut their price to make the place attractive to someone looking for a 'fixer-upper'. Of course, they think they should get appraised value (well, they did -- just got word that they've dropped the price some).
The good news is that this house is long since paid for, so at least there's not a payment. But taxes, the new mortgage on their new house, etc. are putting the squeeze on them. If I lived closer, I might swipe their keys and go do some work on the place. But from here, there's nothing I can do. I don't have the cash to buy the place or even pay for remodeling. If I could, I'd buy it and rent it out. But that's just a fantasy. With my prestigious, high-paying job, I can't even buy a house for myself to LIVE in, much less take on a rental property.
As much as this eats at me, I can only imagine what they are going through. They do finally have a Realtor, but I don't think he's lifted a finger to actually try to move the house (case in point: He had a lame open house on Father's Day! Who does that?).
I know they love the house and neighborhood they are in now, so that's some consolation, but this selling problem just grows slowly more painful every day.
ugh.

Crazy Korean Choreography

This is insane!

Duckling Responsibility

Here's a story from my childhood. It came to mind the other day -- why, I do not know.

I grew up in St. Petersburg, FL in a neighborhood that was near a golf course. This golf course was built with a connected network of ponds and creeks that fed into (or were fed by) Lake Maggiore. Most of the bodies of water were created as water hazards for the golfers, and also served as some decent fishing for a little kid with a cane pole. There were lots of bream, catfish and even a few bass to catch. In addition to the fish, several other wildlife species were in abundance. Turtles, ducks, cranes, herons, alligators, snakes, etc. could all be found.

One Summer day, I was fishing and generally bumping around when I noticed a little duckling in the creek that was by itself, swimming around peeping its little heart out. I realized that he had somehow gotten separated from his family, as mama duck and several other ducklings were actually in the larger pond across the street.
An older kid from the neighborhood was riding by on his bike and had stopped to ask me if I was catching anything. I pointed out the situation. We decided, as kids will do, that it was our duty, our mission, to reunite this lone peeper with his family.
Johnny (Harell, of the Harrell brothers) told me that we couldn't touch the duckling or the mother would reject it. So, we were in a quandary as to what to do. We decided that we would just sort of corral the little guy and drive him towards his mama. This involved a trip under the street in one of two culverts, but they were plenty big enough for us to navigate and the water level was low enough that we'd only be ankle deep or so as we went through. So, we jumped into the creek and started making a little racket as we approached the intrepid yellow fuzzball. He began swimming away from us and towards the culvert as planned. We continued the duckling drive for probably 15 minutes (ducklings don't cover a lot of ground... err, water, very quickly) as he made his way under the street. Once he came through on the other side, he caught sight of his mom and siblings. We were feeling pretty happy about our good deed as he sped up his efforts and started off in their direction. The family convoy was cruising across the pond and was headed to the far side in their instinctive single-file platoon, with Mom leading the way. Our little hero was paddling furiously to catch up. As he was gaining on them, and the whole posse was getting fairly close to shore, we were actually cheering him on while putting our shoes back on. Then our mood was suddenly destroyed as we saw the ominous black lump break the surface several yards behind the group. Alligator! The ducks noticed the predator as well and Mama started quacking like crazy and picked up the pace. Our little guy was still catching up as the reptilian beast began slowly cruising up behind. We were screaming at the gator and throwing rocks at it, but it was out of our range and wasn't deterred. It maintained its leisurely pace. The ducks were really stepping on it, and finally Mama, then the first duckling reached shore. All of the others were close behind, and even our buddy was just about caught up to the last one in line. Sometimes I think the alligator was showing off. He just kept cruising at altitude, slowly gaining on the train of web-footed flappers. One by one, the ducklings were making it to shore as Mama frantically quacked her head off. I don't know if she was trying to egg them on or to distract the gator, perhaps both. Now all of the ducklings but our prodigal son had made it to shore. And with perfect, deadly timing, just as this helpless little trooper was about to jump up onto dry land... chomp. One quick snap of prehistoric jaws and that was it.
Johnny, who was sort of a tough kid, started cussing the alligator out with tears in his eyes as it slipped below the surface with utter nonchalance. I was inconsolable. I sobbed my little heart out for what seemed like hours, walking home, trying to tell my mom what had happened in that wracked, hitching, way that only kids can achieve when their nascent sense of justice, fair play and altruism has just been crushed along with the tiny body of one of God's cutest creatures. That freakin' hurt. My parents told me how proud they were that Johnny and I had worked so hard and so smartly to reunite the duckling with his mother, and I think they tried to tell me a little about nature and food chains and stuff, but I wasn't having any of it. It just wasn't right.
That was a crappy day. I wish I had some silver lining to this story, how it steeled my resolve to always help the downtrodden no matter what, or that I awoke to the wonders of the circle of life or something, but I didn't. It's just one of those painful childhood memories. Stupid alligator.

The Madness Continues

If the ice cream were not bad enough, now Starbucks is going to raise their prices due to the increase in dairy costs.
Where's Susan Powter when you need her?

More Ethanol Stupidity

I am not supposed to call the ethanol lobby "Raca", but I will say their actions are not brilliant. The latest casualty in the corn-fuel madness? Ice Cream. Yep, our favorite dessert is likely going to cost more... why? The cost of corn is skyrocketing as more and more is being used for ethanol instead of feeding cattle. If you remember 2nd grade chemistry, you know that ice cream is made from, well, cream. Cream, comes from cows. Cows eat (wait for it)... corn. We could debate the wisdom of using corn for cattle feed, since a "free range" cow would eat grass, as God intended. However, in the commercial dairy industry, the cows basically stand still all day, feeding on corn, and vacuum hoses are connected to the nether regions to extract milk. A little biological factory. So, if the cost of feed corn rises, the cost of milk rises. The ice cream makers are stuck.

Here's a quick quote from an article, the rest of which can be found here:

This month, the price of milk in the United States surged to a near-record in part because of the increasing costs of feeding a dairy herd. The corn feed used to feed cattle has almost doubled in price in a year as demand has grown for the grain to produce ethanol.

If Bill Clinton were still president, I'm sure he'd do something about all this now that ice cream is feeling the pressure.

I Are Smart!

Well, this is a relief. Crazy quizzes! I apparently deserve my high school diploma. Sweet validation!

You paid attention during 100% of high school!

85-100% You must be an autodidact, because American high schools don't get scores that high! Good show, old chap!

Do you deserve your high school diploma?
Create a Quiz

Is this blandness?

Taking a suggestion from my friend Rebecca, I tried this little quiz. I think our results are quite similar! We apparently don't have much of an accent. Does that sound boring? Hmmm, no. I would rather have the Midland (whatever that is) sound than a complete hillbilly, or worse, Ted Kennedy. Hahdy hah hah (that's Hardy har har in Bostonian). Their little description is fairly accurate, however -- I was born & raised in Florida, have lived in Atlanta, Pittsburgh, Columbus, Detroit, Chicago and now Houston... so maybe all that moving around has erased any accent I once may have had. Who knows!

What American accent do you have? Your Result: The Midland   "You have a Midland accent" is just another way of saying "you don't have an accent." You probably are from the Midland (Pennsylvania, southern Ohio, southern Indiana, southern Illinois, and Missouri) but then for all we know you could be from Florida or Charleston or one of those big southern cities like Atlanta or Dallas. You have a good voice for TV and radio.
The South
Philadelphia
The Inland North
The West
The Northeast
Boston
North Central
What American accent do you have? Quiz Created on GoToQuiz

Rappin'!

OH my goodness. Sometimes you see a movie that is so bad, it's good.
This is the case with 1985's Rappin', starring Mario Van Peebles and featuring a pre-ER Eriq LaSalle and a pre-A Different World Kadeem Hardison, and even an uncredited Ice-T (isn't that reason enough to put this in your Netflix queue?). Now, this may be a cult favorite for all I know, but I managed to miss it the first time around (But I did see Breakin' and Breakin' 2: Electric Boogaloo!). It must have some street cred, as it features the Force MD's performing "Itchin' for a Scratch", and Claudja Barry performing "Born to Love".

Anyway, how did I come to watch this little chestnut? Well, a few weeks ago, I went to see Spamalot with some good friends. Reading the playbill, I noticed that the understudy for "The Lady of the Lake" was Lyn Philistine, someone I'd worked with briefly in San Antonio back in 1998 (that's a whole 'nother story, believe me!). I didn't get a chance to find Lyn, as Spamalot was in its final days in Houston.

Anyway, this sparked my curiosity to see if this lovely and talented songbird had been involved in other productions over the years. Gotta love Google!. I saw that she was credited with a non-speaking role in Rappin', simply listed as "girl". Naturally, I had to get the movie.

Well, Lyn looked as cute as ever as a (I'm guessing) 12-year-old in the few minutes of film she got, but the experience of watching the rest of the movie was, well, hilarious. This movie has some elements that were 80's staples: A reformed street hoodlum (Van Peebles, imaginatively cast as -- I'm not kidding -- John Hood), dance-offs, urban kids using music (rap in this case) to combat societal ills and stick it to The Man, and a record contract in the balance. The actual raps, even for 1985, were so corny that they had to be written by 40+ year old white guys (You haven't lived until you've heard "Snack Attack", where Van Peeble's gang taunts their overweight comrade -- possible inspiration for the Fat Boys?). The acting is pretty horrible, as one might expect, but works as unintentional self-parody in these later years. The script doesn't qualify this as a "blaxploitation" flick, but it does have the similar "story of the ghetto written by someone who's never seen one" feel. Hood's gang rival, Duane (if that ain't a gangsta name, I dont' know what is), gets to say "Two's company, three's a crowd" AND "Hey? Hay is for horses" within seconds of each other during a very tense club scene... and it just keeps getting better.

My recommendation? Get some friends together and do your own version of Mystery Science Theater 3000 on a rainy Saturday afternoon. It's worth it. Spoiler alert: The coolest (only?) car in the movie other than cop cars is a Chrysler LeBaron.

Happy Independence Day

Happy birthday, America!
Hope you don't get so senile in your 200's that you forget that you really are special.