Hottest Pussycat Rosario Dawson was arrested yesterday "about a block from the site of the Republican National Convention in Madison Square Garden" after she and a Director You've Never Heard Of refused to leave the road.
When asked by reporters, Dawson refused to comment on whether she plans to have my babies. We will bring you updates as they come in.
Atlanta Braves third baseman and all-around redneck Chipper Jones just had a son, and named him Shea Logan Jones. And yes, that's intentional. The kid is actually named after the New York Mets' Shea Stadium, where Chipper is often booed and called "Larry" (his real name, which I can't imagine bothers him), but where he also routinely crushes the Mets (.314 lifetime average, and he hit his first career home run there).
Fortunately for his son, Chipper didn't choose one of the other ballparks out there, which could have resulted in:
etc.
(Although Minute Maid Jones would have been awesome.)
I had so much fun doing this last time, I figured I'd do another one.
I had my doubts about this countdown when it arrived in the mail, since it's hosted by the mediocre Shadoe Stevens, and is from that no-man's land of pop music known as the early '90s (just ask Andrew, who listened to an awful Casey's Top 40 from early 1990 with me on an Atlantic City road trip).
But this one's actually a perfect representation of my new pop music theorem, which I will soon be trademarking: the James Furdell 18-Year Nostalgia Theorem. In the 1982 countdown, we witnessed a bizarre fascination with the music of 1964; thus, if the Theorem holds, this countdown should be obsessed with the music of 1973-ish.
This countdown also should answer the question, "Why did Nirvana become so popular?" once and for all. Andrew's earlier tangent stating that rock and roll is dead isn't really accurate; rock just goes through different phases every few years, and whether you like the current phase is pretty much a matter of taste. For example, one of Andrew' favorite bands, ELO, was definitely a part of that "early-'60s throwback" cadre of bands from the early '80s. Nothing wrong with that, but certainly nothing original. Right now we're kind of on the tail-end of a "pop-punk" phase (think Blink-182 and Good Charlotte), with hopefully the next big thing coming soon.
But back to 1991. When you see in this countdown which rock bands were popular in the months before Kurt Cobain ushered in the grunge era at the very end of 1991, you will understand why a not-all-that-great grunge band was able to take the rock world by storm.
Hey, kids! Help the President find the Republican National Convention schedule in a Google search! But watch out -- only one of the ten results is the real schedule! The others are spoofs, and if you give George the wrong one, it could be a distaster to his campaign!
Can you guess the correct link in just two clicks? (For the correct link, flip your computer monitor over.)
For weeks I've been stewing over the fact that political discourse, like rock 'n' roll, is entirely dead. (Don't argue with me about rock 'n' roll, either. Every new rock song sounds exactly like every rock song from fifteen years ago, and if they all sounded like the same good song it wouldn't be so bad. Rock fans just aren't willing to admit that their genre was replaced by disco, then pop, and now rap. It's over.)
Wow, that was some tangent. Anyway, it seems to me that nobody is capable of having an intelligent conversation about politics, because it's turned into a kind of sporting event. Just as you can't successfully argue the benefits of the Red Sox over the Yankees, you can no longer sway anyone in a poltical debate.
I'm not just talking about conservatives, either. From what I've seen, both sides of the fence are completely pig-headed and ignorant. Kerry-worshippers are unwilling to even hear that he has no political agenda or plan to speak of; Bush-worshippers refuse to admit that he is, well, completely awful in every way. And it's no use trying to get through to anyone.
The other day I overheard a guy boasting about his new t-shirt that says "Kerry Sucks." 'Great,' sarcastically thought I, 'that'll start constructive political conversations with strangers.' I imagine him in front of his television on Election Night, big foam-rubber #1 hand at the ready, keg chilled, just waiting for those numbers to come in. Go team!
When Kerry spoke at the Democratic National Convention, I was disappointed by his speech, which mostly consisted of criticizing Bush. "I will be a commander in chief who will never mislead us into war. I will have a vice president who will not conduct secret meetings with polluters to rewrite our environmental laws." Well, duh. I'd kind of hope that goes without saying. Here I was waiting for him to say what he would do as president, and all I'm getting is "I won't screw up in the wide variety of ways that the last guy did" -- certainly an important message, but one that I had already assumed.
But when I brought up these complaints with my (liberal, obviously) friends, they seemed almost offended. "Did you even listen to the speech?" Well, yeah. He didn't say much of anything. I think he doesn't want jobs shipped overseas or something, but that's really not a concern of mine. I'd like to know what he plans to do in Iraq, and with the economy and such. (My friends exasperatingly shake their heads and ignore me.)
So that's what it's all come to. I am left returning to my original postulate: "No matter who we elect president, we're all completely and unredeemingly doomed." America: Land of the Ignorant. We the People are no longer intelligent enough to elect our own leaders.
Screw world peace. If I had one wish, it would be that the movie Thunderpants (starring Rupert Grint, a.k.a. Ron Weasley) would be released on DVD in the U.S. Here's the plot outline for the movie, as listed on IMDB.
An 11-year-old boy's amazing ability to break wind leads him first to fame and then to death row, before it helps him to fulfill his ambition of becoming an astronaut.
It might be worth another trip to the UK just to see this film.
I hate LiveJournal.
It's an on-line journaling system that tends more towards diary than blog. There's not so much an economy of words going on there; the most minute of life's daily minutiae gets posted. For example, I happened to click on this one, and the first words I read are:
Rachael has little nasty yeasties inavding her diaper area.
EWW EWW ick.
So there is such a thing as Internet TMI.
Fortunately for my sanity, there is a website that chronicles the best in LiveJournal Drama. Highly entertaining on all fronts.
From the Instapundit "Indeed" Counter Challenge, that is. I'm afraid that, yesterday, while patting the Internet on the back for dragging John Kerry through the mud, Mr. Insta uttered his 360th "Indeed" on his blog, thus elimidating talking stuffed bear Pup from the competition for the luxurious grand prize.
But we do have a lovely parting gift... a trip to Las Vegas!
What's that? He's going already, this weekend?
Huh. Gift of the magi. Never mind, then.
As someone who actively demonstrated against a pre-emptive Iraq invasion, and also as someone who publicly questioned the veracity of Colin Powell's United Nations presentation on weapons of mass destruction, I am in the unique position of being able to say "I told you so!" to almost anyone and everyone I know. It's a good feeling.
(Of course, it would have been nicer if all that work could have actually done anything to prevent the war, but I'll take what I can get.)
Now, thanks to the crystal clear vision that is hindsight, lots of people all over the world can join me in my "I Told You So" chorus. Today we examine...the French. Read on for a stroll down Recent History Lane.
Andrew had a good idea with "Just Siegfried!"
Kimberly mentioned to me today that Kelly Ripa might be leaving her talk show, which leads us to the only obvious solution: Live with Regis and Siegfried.
Let's make some calls on this, people.
Ok, armchair detectives! It's time to put on your goofy hunting cap and light up your pipe, because we've got a mystery on our hands!
They were young adults from America's heartland with a passion for the wild outdoors, backpacking, sailing and camping when they could, working together as counselors at a Christian retreat and dreaming that they would someday open one of their own.Then, just weeks before their Sept. 11 wedding date, they were killed in their sleep ? perhaps after taking in one last Pacific sunset under the open sky they loved.
They died instantly, each shot in the head as they lay in sleeping bags on a wild shoreline 2,500 miles from their homes and families, Sonoma County authorities said Friday.
No, no, the Sept. 11 wedding date is a red herring. That's just an easy time to book weddings these days. But what's this...camp counselors? Camp counselors in love? Senselessly killed? Ohh, I totally know this one!!!
 | Hey, wait a second. That's terrible! Jason is completely unstoppable! He'll cut us all to ribbons!! We're all going to die!!!! |
Until next time...we're completely doomed!
Andrew got his wish from one Mr. Kaus! Predictably, his take on the Swift Boat Veterans for Taking Down Kerry is... that it's disasterous for Kerry. BIG SHOCK.
After bringing up pertinent issues such as whether Kerry was actually across the physical Cambodia-Vietnam border, or just very near the border, 35 years ago, Kaus swiftly un-dismisses the Swifties using his trademark, the totally un-annoying P.P.P.P.P.S. postscript.
P.P.P.S.: Respectable big-time journalist friends who met with the anti-Kerry vets recently found them a lot more credible than expected. Sorry, Note! 3:21 A.M.
I love it when political blogs do this. You should believe something told to Mickey Kaus by his unnamed, big-time respectable journalist friends. But not, you know, actual, researched news articles contradicting their credibility, which he hasn't bothered mentioning.
I think the proverbial shark has been jumped.
Oh man, have you guys seen any of that Olympic fencing? I would have been watching the whole thing if I knew the athletes were wearing the coolest sports equipment ever devised... lighty-up helmets.
One fencer is red, the other yellow. Little LEDs in their helmets flash when they touch the opponent with the foil. BRILLIANT.
Plus, the shiny, metallic, bulked-up helmets look like poorly-designed costume props from a low-budget 1970s sci-fi film. I kept expecting James Caan to jump out the shadows screaming "ROLLERRRBALLLLLLLLL!!!" before dismantling another robomatronic Yul Brenner.
I now fully expect Lazer Tag [sic] to become an Olympic exhibition event by 2012. (Andrew and I, being veterans of cheap Lazer Tag knockoff Photon, don't stand a chance.)
I can't help but notice that Kausfiles has been uncharacteristically silent on the subject of Swift Boat Veterans for Smearing Kerry. Very interesting.
P.S. What I mean is that Kaus should probably post something about the ads. Like he should either defend them in some slimy way, or admit the wrongness of the whole thing. But conservative bloggers seem to prefer ignoring the problem.
P.P.S. Kausfiles is dumb.
If you're reading this, you're bored, and that means you need to check out these phone transcripts between Scott Peterson and Amber Frey. It's a lot of reading -- I've been working on it for a couple of weeks -- but it's well worth it.
If you don't already know, Scott Peterson is the guy whose 8-month pregnant wife, Laci, went missing over a year and a half ago. There were candlelight vigils and the like, until her body washed up on the shore.
Well, as it turns out, on the side Scott was pretending to be a romantic bachelor, wooing single mom Amber Frey. He went all out: roses, expensive dinners, caramel apples. Very smooth. (Check out this detailed timeline for a fuller picture of the story.)
What I love about these transcripts is that they remind me of every conversation I've ever had in a relationship. Peterson and Frey talk about their feelings for each other, about how they feel about relationships in general, about where they think this one is going; they talk about their favorite movies and what they did the previous day. It's all extremely banal, except that underneath it all he's murdered his wife and she's pretending not to know while she tapes his calls. In a favorite key moment, Scott calls Amber on New Years Eve, pretending to be in Paris -- when he's actually at his wife's own candlelight vigil. Ha! Now that's good evil!
If you're still not convinced that you need to waste hours of your life reading these transcripts, allow me to present an excerpt. Um, I believe this will be Exhibit 'Q'. In this excerpt from a January 4, 2003 conversation, Scott and Amber are discussing their role models.
SCOTT
It's like, five years later, and I'm still making changes in myself to be more like Hugh.AMBER
To be more like who?SCOTT
Hugh.AMBER
Hugh?SCOTT
Hugh, yeah, that was his name.AMBER
Okay.SCOTT
That's a tough one to say on a mobile phone, isn't it?AMBER
I know. It sounds like you're saying 'you,' and I'm like, 'What?'SCOTT
Hugh.AMBER
Me?
I love vaudeville! I hope Peterson gets aquitted just so we can get more great routines like this one.
Well, it seems I'm the last to chime in about Vegas. Clearly if I'd seen Andrew taking out all the lanes at the gun store, THAT would have been the funniest thing I saw in Vegas, but I fear guns.
5) Hiking. For some reason, watching little pellets of hail bounce off of James' head struck me as funny. And also, there was a poodle wearing hiking shoes.
Little Pinz (wearing sandals): That poodle is wearing better shoes than me.
Poodle owner guy: Yep.
4) Robomatronic Neptune. The shopping arcade in Caesar's Palace has an aquarium at one end, atop of which sits a statue of what we conjectured was Neptune in all his glory. The statue comes alive every hour and puts on a show, complete with fake thunderstorms and some quarreling between some other family members whose statues pop up unexpectedly. The fact that it all took place in front of a Cheesecake Factory made it rather funny and pathetic, as opposed to fun and impressive, which I think is what they were going for. "I am Neptune, god of the sea! The waves obey my every command! And be sure to check out the fine collection of flannels behind you at Abercrombie and Fitch!"
3) M&Ms 3D! As if animatronic Roman gods weren't enough, James and I somehow found ourselves at the M&M store, waiting in line for the spectacular "Leaving my M in Las Vegas." I'm fairly certain we didn't know what we were getting ourselves into. Since I'm sure you're all dying to know the plot, I'll recap it for you. In an Oscar-worthy performance, the red M&M loses his M by betting it on, wouldn't you know it, RED at roulette. We then accompany Red and his trusty sidekick Yellow as they try to retrieve the M in the world of Lost & Found, passing by such places as Lost Virtue and Lost Souls and going straight on to Lost Causes. Then some hijinks ensued, and I'll just put your fears to rest by telling you that the M was eventually recovered, and Red and Yellow did not get melted in the giant furnace, thanks to the ingenuity of those feisty little mini-M&Ms. It was totally awesome. (Please don't tell anyone I said that.)
2) The beef jerky store. That's right, a whole store in downtown Vegas devoted to jerky. Clam jerky, anyone? I hear it's particularly clammy.
1) LiAps. In the bitch seat. Pretending to be a moose.
We Furdells are now back from Vegas. As the person who probably lost the least, I am the winner. Hooray!
As it turns out, I did place in one tournament (6th place out of 70-odd players), and netted a total poker tournament profit of $23. I think I'll retire. Well, it was actually a lot better than I expected, and much fun.
But that's not the highlight of my trip, oh no. I won't tell you the story of how, at the final table of the tournament in which I placed, several players vocalized their opinion that I am completely obnoxious. (Tee hee.) No, today I shall talk about my new affinity...for guns!!! GUNS!!! GUNS GUNS GUNSSS!!!!!
Vegas was fun, and there was no terrorism, unless you count all those blackjack dealers who kept pulling out a 21 from a 5 up-card. And also:
- Our friend Mr. Big Pinzur couldn't escape Miami because of the hurricane.
- The flight Kimberly and I were on was delayed due to a Vegas visit by President Retardo-brain. I mean Bush. President Bush.
- Four of us went to a hike, and on the way back got caught in a very cold hailstorm.
So yeah, scheduling a Vegas trip over the Friday-the-13th weekend was maybe not the best idea. But still, we had a lot of fun, and learned some valuable lessons.
1) Pai gow poker is the nuts.
As I predicted, pai gow poker was a big hit with our entourage. Unlike blackjack and craps, which would sap our money away at an accelerated rate, pai gow poker was a much, muuuuch sloooooowwwwer way to lose money. Even at a $10 table, you can stay halfway to forever under normal circumstances. Seemingly three out of four hands resulted in a push, and even with only two or three people at a table, each game takes at least two or three minutes to deal and pay out. And that means much, much more time to down tons of free drinks. What a steal.
Pai gow has the added fun of letting you play as the banker, and potentially taking money from your friends (or maybe giving yours to them). Andrew did this sucessfully a few times against us, and it made for some of the most fun trash talking sessions you could possibly have in a casino. "Ace-queen no good, beeyotch!"
The downside: although it's a fairly easy game to learn, that didn't prevent me from screwing up a couple of times and incurring the mockery of my brother. (Even though I did help him play a straight correctly once. What an ass!)
P.S. Everything was "the nuts" on this trip. Normally this a phrase used to describe the best possible hand in hold'em poker, but also how we would describe anything cool. E.g. "This buffet is the nuts." This was occasionally followed by a "boi-oi-oING!" sound effect, to mimic the ESPN poker coverage, using a goofy announcer voice. ("On this edition of 'The Nuts...' [boi-oi-OING!]")
Dear Loser Internet-Surfer,
We Furdells are out gambling, drinking, and being debaucherous in America's most over-advertised tourist destination. Please feel free to try one of our links, or perhaps peruse our archives in the interim. May I recommend "6 Panel Movies." Always a joy.
Yours,
Your mother.
Bad news for people about to go to Vegas...apparently, evidence of Al Qaeda activity in the tourist mecca (hee hee) has been largely ignored in favor of delicious, green money.
Hey, wait a minute -- I'm a people about to go to Vegas! We're all going to die!!!!
Well, maybe not. Casinos are pretty secure, after all. You know...cameras and the like. Best case scenario: due to a horrible terrorist attack, we're heavily comped by casinos that hope to keep our terrified business. Hey, there's a gamble I'm willing to take!
As promised in a comment thread, here's the infamous clip of Casey Kasem angry at having to do a death dedication for a dog named Snuggles after coming out of an up-tempo number. As well as some other off-the-reel bloopers from Casey.
And, while I'm at it, here's some more stuff. In honor of going to Vegas, Andrew's favorite Chris DeBerg song... "The Lady in Red." Just kidding, it's "Don't Pay the Ferryman." Andrew had a dream or something about this song while we were in Vegas, and took it to be a prescient message about not tipping the dealer unless you win, or something. "You must pay me now... (don't do it!)"
It's almost football season. Here's the San Diego Chargers theme song, just because it's funky and I like it. And here's the circa mid-'90s theme music for ESPN's NFL Prime Time, which was much superior before they got co-opted by the ABC/Disney machine. And, because it's always funny to laugh at a staggeringly drunk Joe Namath, here he is making a pass at Suzy Kolber during an on-air interview.
I, occasionally, go to the movies.
[Pause, wait for gasps to die down.]
Yes, it's true. There are three theaters I frequent the most: Landmark's E Street Cinema in D.C., which I suppose broke off from the Bruce Springsteen Multiplex; AMC's Courthouse Plaza in Arlington, starring their kick-ass mascot Filmguy (who apparently also goes by the aliases Flick, Clip and "Clippy"); and Regal Cinema's Ballston Mall multiplex.
The latter is a dump. Ballston gets most of the bigger blockbuster movies, rather than the superior Courthouse Plaza, so we often wind up driving there against our will. It pretty much encompasses everything bad about going to the movies; sticky floors, no student discounts, and broke-ass, circa-1995 arcade games in the lobby (e.g. Marvel Super Heroes, but not all the buttons work... that should be a capital offense).
But the final insult was hurled about a year ago when Regal Cinemas unveiled its brand-new, exciting pre-show entertainment:
THE 2WENTY.
Yes, it's spelled "2wenty," presumably in an effort to be rad to the max, d00d. Thus, I pronounce it "The Twooo-wenty."
So what is THE 2WENTY? In one phrase, the best way to describe would be to say, "It's a twooowenty-minute commercial." But that, in itself, does not convey the utter evil of the operation; after all, advertisements before movies have become commonplace, and yet until now haven't instilled in me the URGE TO HUNT DOWN AND KILL EVERYONE RESPONSIBLE, AND THEIR FAMILIES.
If Regal wants to set up its crappy-ass Christie digital projectors and show me amateurish advermentaries about the making of some shitty new mini-series on TNT that I won't want to miss, starring, I don't know, Wendie Jo Sperber as an intrepid biological terrorism expert, and Treat Williams as, uh, himself, I guess, then fine. Making me watch three of these promotional features crosses the line a little bit, but at least I can ignore without feeling I've been somehow personally insulted.
But what's reprehensible about THE 2WENTY is the way it's presented: as an entertainment program that I should WANT to see. When it starts up, you get a title card, and an announcer saying, "Welcome to THE 2WENTY!" (He doesn't pronounce it right.)
"Here are the advertisements you'll have to sit through:
[advertisement 1]
[advertisement 2]
[advertisement 3]"
Then they'll start them up. Each one lasts five or six minutes. Generally, they'll include fakish "making of" a series on TNT, or interviews of stars of the latest NBC sitcom debacle, or maybe canned interviews with stars appearing in upcoming movies or DVDs.
After they finish one of these programs, THEY BREAK FOR A FUCKING COMMERCIAL. God, I wish I was kidding. What the fuck?!? Are they actually trying to pretend that, in order to afford showing us 20 minutes of advertising, THEY HAD TO SELL EXTRA ADVERTISING IN BETWEEN?
Worst of all comes at the end of the programming, but before they've finished showing us advertisements that break up the programming (they're not quite ready to show us any actual movies yet). The cheesy announcer tells us:
"You've just seen THE 2WENTY! If you missed part of THE 2WENTY, come early to the theater next time to catch all of it."
"THE 2WENTY is entertainment ignited."
THERE! Right there. Did you catch that last bit? The 2wenty is ENTERTAINMENT IGNITED. They present this 20-minute advertising... thing, which is broken up by futher advertising, as if it itself were somehow entertaining, and not a complete waste of time and money seemingly designed solely to incur my wrath.
The concept they're pushing, of the advertising program that they try to make me think is worth my time, is reinforced by the existence of The Official THE 2WENTY Website, where you can learn all about the exiting advertising programs they have in store for you next time you decide you really, really want to go out to the theater specifically to see THE 2WENTY. Fuck, I may just buy a ticket and walk out after THE 2WENTY ends. Bitch.
And yet, Regal Entertainment continues to try to delude us into thinking this is what people want to see:
The 2wenty is a larger-than-life pre-show adding unique and special entertainment to the REG movie-going experience
The 2wenty is quality entertainment supplied by our four content partners:
[some kickass corporations]
We are digitizing 4,801 screens in 437 theatres (top 69 markets), to be completed by February 2004. By creating the ONLY national Digital Content Network, Regal CineMedia is revolutionizing in-cinema advertising through:
? Production Savings ? No cost for transfer to film in top 69 digital markets
? Flexibility ? Can add tags, split creative by rating, schedule multiple spots in one flight
? Enhanced Proof of Performance ? Will be able to monitor advertising in flight and adjust accordingly
Bleh. This re-defines the phrase "ad creep."
Meanwhile, all this might be forgivable if it resulted in, say, lower ticket prices, lower concession stand prices, non-sticky floors, a Marvel Super Heroes game that's fully-functional, etc. But instead, it's clearly pure gravy for Regal, which probably doesn't make a lot of money off ticket prices, but can make a bundle by force-feeding its customers this tripe and calling it "entertainment."
So, in conclusion: I'm calling out the people responsible for this atrocity!
YOU WILL BOW DOWN BEFORE ME, THE 2WENTY! You, and then, one day after that, a little later on... YOUR HEIRS!!!!
I'm James Furdell, and I approved this message of unbridled anger.
In case you're wondering why you haven't seen much red font lately, it's because I'm preparing for our VegaStravagnzatm. I've learned strategies for some out-there table games, but more than that I've been preparing for tournament poker.
I won (well, two-way tied) the second tournament I ever played, which was a regular Hold 'Em tourney at Mandalay Bay. Since then I've probably only played in two or three tournaments, and never finished in the money. For the last couple of weeks, though, I've been studying Sklansky's expensive book on tournament strategy.
I think I'm ready. I've written out a schedule of inexpensive tournaments in Vegas during our trip, and I hope to play in a lot of them. When we get back and I'm independently wealthy, I'll report on all my winnings. Look forward to that.
Or, for those of you who think I've been posting too much about gambling, I'll post about my attempts to order Lemon Fanta online.
Way way back in the 1980s, little Jamie would often spend Sunday mornings listening to Casey Kasem's American Top 40. The four-hour program was already by then a radio institution, serving as a compendium of what was popular that week in pop music. There were big debuts, top 10 smashes, little-known up-and-comers, long distance dedications, and, of course plenty of crappy follow-up hits by artists who couldn't quite recapture the original magic.
The show itself had an interesting history. It started on July 4, 1970 and experienced a growth in popularity as the years went by. In 1988, Casey was involuntarily and inexplicably replaced by Shadoe Stevens, a perpetual Hollywood Square who seemed just a little too smooth to fill Casey's shoes (besides, his name was Shadoe... give me a break). Casey started his own countdown, Casey's Top 40, and successfully competed with Shadoe for years. Oddly enough, both countdowns ran on my hometown pop station, WAPE in Jacksonville, on Sundays; Casey in the morning, Shadoe at night.
By 1995, pop music had seemed to splinter off into alterative rock and R&B, and both countdowns were shut down. But in 1998, American Top 40 was revived with Casey at the helm. The revamped countdown successfully adapted to new tastes in pop; few things cheer me up more than hearing 70-year-old Casey seamlessly introducing "In Da Club" by 50 Cent. I hope I'm that cool at that age. (Hell, I wish I was that cool now.)
Sadly, Casey was recently once again sent packing, this time in favor of (please don't make me say it... ugghh) Ryan Seacrest.
Fortunately for me, over the years people have saved the original records and compact discs of Casey's countdowns. I've been collecting CD copies, which are great fun to listen to (and educational, too). Each countdown is like a time capsule that transports you back in time to that week, and some of the facts supplied by Casey about the artists are interesting; often it's stuff I didn't know before.
(Sadly for me, the Internet message board that was serving as a trading post of sorts for American Top 40 collectors has gone defunct, so if any AT40ers happen to Google this, leave me a message so we can trade!)
I just got a new batch of countdowns to add to my collection list. We listened to one on the way to our anniversary dinner, an episode from April 10, 1982. That was actually before I got into pop music, when I moved to Jacksonville in late summer 1983, but I figured it would be fun to fill in some of the 1980s blanks in my collection.
And wow, what a weird time April '82 was for music. Every so often I'll come across a countdown that seems to have occured during a musical dead zone, when especially creative or memorable songs were hard to come by. This was one of those; we had just gotten over disco a couple years ago, hadn't yet gotten to the following year's British Invasion of the pop charts, and were still lamely trying to recreate the music of 15-20 years before as part of a nostalgia kick. Here are some of the high/lowlights:
40: THE OTHER WOMAN - RAY PARKER, JR
You got real lucky with "Ghostbusters," my man. Really, really lucky.
36: THEME FROM "MAGNUM P.I." - MIKE POST
35: POP GOES THE MOVIES (PART 1) - MECO
34: THE BEATLES MOVIE MEDLEY - THE BEATLES
This countdown was fully of cheesy items like these. A TV theme, followed by two medleys. The Meco medley features themes from several films, including Gone With the Wind and The Magnificent Seven, bizarrely set to a disco beat. They loved their medleys back in the early '80s, apparently.
33: MAMA USED TO SAY - JUNIOR
This is actually a really good, somewhat forgotten soul chart hit. Highly recommend if they happen to have it on iTunes. Plus he does that funny raspy thing in his throat when he says "Mama". Ask Kimberly to replicate it for you.
32: BOBBI SUE - THE OAK RIDGE BOYS
One of those "could have come from the early '60s" songs. See also ELO's "Rock and Roll is King" in 1983.
30: ALWAYS ON MY MIND - WILLIE NELSON
Whoa, I wasn't going to mention this one, but I'm watching TV and it's playing in a Levi's commercial. That thing about 20-years-later nostalgia holds true today.
28: I'VE NEVER BEEN TO ME - CHARLENE
This one really sounds like a throwback to those treacly ballads from the '70s. The title kind of gives that away. Yet another singer trying to emulate the success of Karen Carpenter or, I don't know, Bread.
25: GET DOWN ON IT - KOOL & THE GANG
How you gonna do it if you really don't wanna dance?
By standing on the wall?
Get your back up off the wall.
24: DID IT IN A MINUTE - DARYL HALL & JOHN OATES
Do you know how many Top 40 hits these two had? Neither do I, because our number system doesn't reach that high. Seriously, every countdown I have seems to have one of their songs, and it's usually a boring vanilla-bland concoction like this one. But for every five of these, they would put out a huge mega-hit like "Maneater" or "Private Eyes" or "Out of Touch," and so all would be forgiven, I guess, for the likes of crappy follow-ups "Possession Obsession" and "Everything Your Heart Desires," both now completely forgotten. As is "Did It In a Minute." Rightfully so.
Crappy follow-ups rule.
I'm Oates.
23: MY GUY - SISTER SLEDGE
Know what's awesome?
Apparently, 1964 is awesome.
19: TAKE OFF - BOB AND DOUG McKENZIE
This one blew my mind. It's a song based on the SCTV comedy skit called "Great White North"... and we're so hard up for music in April 1982 that this is at #19. Bob and Doug (Rick Moranis and non-Wendy's Dave Thomas) do their stereotypical backwater Canadian bit over an over-produced version of their theme song, which includes backing vocals by Geddy Lee of Rush. Whom I initially thought was a female vocalist.
Honest mistake.
14: PRETTY WOMAN - VAN HALEN
Know what's still awsome? Still, you know... 1964.
11: PAC-MAN FEVER - BUCKNER & GARCIA
Yet another novelty song, and this one had just fallen out of the top 10.
And, as far as Buckner & Garcia songs go, it's not quite as good as "Do the Donkey Kong."
Oh, you think I'm kidding?
Rounding out the countdown:
10: DO YOU BELIEVE IN LOVE - HUEY LEWIS & THE NEWS
9: KEY LARGO - BERNIE HIGGINS
8: THAT GIRL - STEVIE WONDER
7: OPEN ARMS - JOURNEY
6: DON'T TALK TO STRANGERS - RICK SPRINGFIELD
Rick Springfield, still a couple years shy of producing the consensus worst song ever.
5: MAKE A MOVE ON ME - OLIVIA NEWTON-JOHN
4: FREEZE FRAME - J. GEILS BAND
3: THEME FROM "CHARIOTS OF FIRE" - VANGELIS
2: WE GOT THE BEAT - THE GO-GO'S
1: I LOVE ROCK AND ROLL - JOAN JETT & THE BLACKHEARTS
Not a very hard-core Top 5. Good ol' ONJ at #5, plus some grrrl power (pronounced "grrr-earl") at #1 and #2, but they're not very good songs (at least, according to the Juice Newton Scale of '80s female-led pop songs). And I can't listen to "Chariots of Fire" without laughing these days, it's been parodied so much.
Until next time, this is James, signing off and sailing away to Key Largo.
I just wanted to make sure all you guys know about the best... Bushism... ever:
"Our enemies are innovative and resourceful, and so are we. They never stop thinking about new ways to harm our country and our people, and neither do we."?Washington, D.C., Aug. 5, 2004
Your president, ladies and gentlemen.
Kimberly and I have been married four years now. Actually, four years plus one day. Rawk. Andrew: thanks for the present.
Check out this article about the theme music baseball players choose for their at-bats. That's one of the only things I think about when I go to a baseball game, along with "what's really in this hot dog?" and "where are the imported beers?"
For you Furdell fans, here's our hand-picked at-bat music!
James: "Don't Fear the Reaper"
Kimberly: "I'm a Little Teacup"
Andrew: "I Would Do Anything For Love (But I Won't Do That)"
My latest blog project has been to seek out the Most Mediocre Movie ever.
It's not an easy task; while it's easy to decide that a movie that really bad or really good, it's hard to find one with an equal balance of cool and suck. Thus, I needed some guidelines at the start to help me narrow the field.
First, I decided to use my good friend, the Internet Movie Database. Its user rating system features a comprehensive 1-10 scale, and the bigger films will get thousands of votes, creating a good representative sample. Thus, to consider a movie to be completely mediocre, it had to receive a 5.0 rating from IMdB.
However, that left me with a lot of entries. To whittle it down further, I restricted my search to that mediocrest of decades, the 1980s, and required a minimum of 100 votes.
Originally, one title that caught my eye was 1988's Action Jackson.
This perhaps-too-late-in-the-decade flick tried to make an "action" "star" out of old reliable Carl Weathers, a.k.a. Apollo Smile in the Rocky movies.
I'm a bigger fan of Carl these days, after his self-deprecating turns as himself on both Arrested Development and on Saturday Night Live, where he starred in a commercial asking voters to make him the third actor from Predator, after Schwarzenegger and Ventura, to be voted in as governor. ("Vote for Carl Weathers... I was the black guy in Predator.")
Apparently, back in 1988 they decided to test the action movie waters by making Carl the star. Unfortunately, Carl just looks kind of goofy trying to strut around like a tough guy. Even trying to deliver Schwarzenegger-like funny lines doesn't really work out; in one scene, a taxi tries to run him over, and Carl runs after it after saying, "I have to catch a cab!" Which he does.
After Jackson is thrown from the cab comes this immortal scene:
- Jackson faces down cab and yells at driver.
- Cab comes hurtling toward Jackson.
- Jackson jumps onto cab hood, springs up over the cab and does a backflip, flies through the air, and safely lands on his feet.
- Cab driver is so distraught/distracted by this physically miraculous turn of events that he neglects to notice he is still driving very fast, and plows straight into a furniture store.
I hear that scene was ad-libbed.
Anyway, the ups-and-downs of this movie's quality did have me considering it for the Mediocrity award. After all:
The supporting cast is amazing. The guy who went berserk in Predator plays Jackson's boss. Biff from Back to the Future plays a goof-off cop. Also appearing: multiple other tertiary characters from Die Hard, Lethal Weapon, Commando, etc. It's a veritable 1980s Action Movie Edition of "Hey, It's That Guy!" UPGRADE.
But for the big, sleazy bad guy, they chose... Craig T. Nelson. Yes, TV's Coach. DOWNGRADE.
Love interest #1 is a young-ish, totally hot Sharon Stone! With improbably high '80s hair! And she gets naked in a gratuitous shower scene! UPGRADE!
But love interest #2 is Vanity.
No, I mean Vanity, female pop vocalist, once part of Prince's musical second string, as well as his love interest and pet project. For some reason, the movie's casting director thought she would be perfect playing drugged out, vapid singer who whores herself out for heroin. (By the way, be sure to check out this awesome Vanity fan page.)
Comically, as a side note, the heroin provided to Vanity by her man Craig Tizzy comes in a pristine-looking metallic syringe, which I imagined to be a measles-mumps-rubella innoculation. "Ooooh, that's good MMR baby!" "I've gotta have another hit of booster! YOU GOTTA GET ME MORE BOOSTER, BABY!"
Hm. At any rate, DOWNGRADE.
A-ha, you say... but Vanity, like Stone, also gets topless! Strangely enough, PUSH. She's just too repulsive. Plus, now she's fashioned herself into a born-again evangelist. So, extra creepy.
The soundtrack features music by '80s stars The Pointer Sisters and Herbie Hancock! UPGRA...
Ahh, not so fast, me. This movie came out in 1988, a good three years after anybody stopped caring about either of those musical acts. The Pointers' "He Turned Me Out," played over the opening credits, is especially dull. DOWNGRADE.
By the way, are "action" and "Jackson" supposed to rhyme? I don't think so, my friend. Chalk up another victory for our old nemesis slant rhyme. DOWNGRADE.
So anyway, Action Jackson just isn't good enough to be considered mediocre, and anyway, in the past few months its IMdB rating has slipped to 4.4 out of 10. Back to the drawing board, it would seem, in search of mediocrity.
Ahh, but I already know what I'm going to pick! More on that film at a later date. In the meantime, since action movies are always funnier in French, here's a picture of the French video box for Action Jackson. Parce q'avec Jackson, l'action est garantie!
CMT, or Country Music Television, was showing the Hall Needham classic Stroker Ace this weekend. The film, of course, stars Burt Reynolds as a NASCAR driver, alongside Jim Nabors, better known as TV's Gomer Pyle, as his crew chief.
While I didn't stay tuned for all of this cinema classic, I did manage to catch this classic exchange. After Burt has finished second in a NASCAR race, a member of his pit crew speaks up:
PIT CREW GUY: What's wrong with second place?
BURT AND GOMER: Screw second!
[Cut to reaction shot of Pit Crew Guy]
KETTLE DRUM SOUND FX: BoiiiiiIIIINGGG!
Kettle drum sound effect?! What are you doing here?
That's right, it's all fun and games until someone brings kettle drum sound effects to the party. It's the wacky auditory cue that lets you know this is a goofy comedy, and they're just clownin' around! Ha-yuck!
By the way, I have it on good authority that Nabors also appeared in Needham's Cannonball Run II as "Pvt. Homer Lyle." Hmmmm. Perhaps he's hanging out with Roger Mo... I mean, "Seymour Goldfarb." What are you trying to hide, Hal Needham? I have only one thing to say to you...
J'ACCUSE!
