Random Thoughts On Music, Both Live and Dead

Musings in two sections.

Section Eins. The club scene.

So last night I went to The Other Side by myself to listen to this girl named Lennon sing. She is a singer from Orlando who apparently messaged every MySpacer from Missoula to let us know about her show. Normally I would treat this sort of recruitment as spam, but hey, she was hot. No, actually, I was still going to treat it as spam, but I thought, what the heck, and I checked out her music. It's damn good. Plus, she's hot. And so, despite all my instincts to stay at home and watch Arrested Development with Vaughn, Sadie and Tara for the zillionth time (and I love that word, "zillion"), I managed to kick myself out my door and over to the show.

Here are my observations from the show:

1) At any live performance, you will find those few guys who stand up front, right by the stage, and think that they are bonding with that hot singer. And then they will congratulate themselves after the show for having pissed off the rest of the bar (as a matter of fact, I think the rest of the bar didn't give a f..k. Or maybe that was just me).

2) Speaking of f..k, if the singer shouts f..k, as in "How you f..king doing, [insert name of current city, town, or boondocks here]," you know she is really, sincerely, honestly, f..king happy to be in [current city, town, or boondocks]."

3) The more people drink, the cleverer they think they are.

4) The real reason why you should go with someone to these shows is not to avoid looking weird and pathetic by sitting all by your lonesome; it's so you have someone to talk to when the show starts 40 minutes after it is scheduled to begin (and damn, I wish Drew had been there, because that would have been fun. Drew, you should definitely go check out Lennon sing in San Francisco on the 17th; she's good. Plus, she's hot.)

5) Live music rocks, no pun intended. No, scratch that, pun fully intended.

Section Deux.

You know, all through my life, the art-and-culture lobby has maintained that opera is all sophisticated and brilliant and whatnot. After listening to a bit of opera on NPR this morning at work, I realize why soap operas have opera in their name. The host was explaining this one scene, where, apparently, the protagonist, to demonstrate contrition or goodwill or something, throws his gun down on the floor, where it discharges, mortally wounding the father of his beloved. Maybe I misheard, but if I didn't, opera protagonists are pretty stupid. Who throws a gun down to the floor?

So I guess the lesson is never fall in love, because falling in love makes men act like idiots, and their idiocy wreaks death and mayhem upon innocent bystanders.

Opera's dumb. Also dead.

Random Thoughts On Sports, From The Sublime To The Ridiculous

Part 1. The Sublime

Baseball is here, and all is right with the world. I watched a bit of a Spring Training game today between Cleveland and the Mets, and all the old excitement came flooding back. There are few things as beautiful to see as a batter making clean contact with a pitch, knocking the ball in a smooth arc down the foul line or up the middle. I love hearing the crack of wood on horsehide, watching a shortstop diving full-length to snare the ball in his glove.

While there may not be anyone as mythical today as DiMaggio was to Hemingway (in part because the media's constant investigation of each and every fault and controversy, not to mention the steroid issue, has diminished individual brilliance), baseball is still at heart a clean, elegant, simple game.

If you have never had the chance to see a game in a major league ballpark, you are missing out. I will never forget walking through the tunnel from the concourse into the stands and catching that first glimpse of the green grass and the white chalk.

Part 2. The Ridiculous.

I was sad when I heard that the San Jose Earthquakes of Major League Soccer were relocating to Houston. Even though I was long gone from the Bay Area by the time MLS was formed, I had always considered that San Jose was kind of my team, by geographic association with my other favorites.

I have also always considered myself liberal and empathetic, and I've never cared for Manifest Destiny, etc. Monroe was a great big arrogant prick.

Nevertheless, now I'm just annoyed. When the Earthquakes first relocated to Houston, it was announced that their nickname would be "1836" in European style and in honor of the year of Houston's founding, as well as Texas' independence from Mexico. Regardless of whether or not I personally feel that Mexico could have kept Texas, it still seemed like a good name.

Now, apparently, because some people say that "1836" is anti-Mexican, the franchise is changing its name to the Dynamo.

I'm sorry, but how could "1836" be offensive? Granted, I'm not Hispanic, but seriously, that's ridiculous. That's like saying we can't talk about 1945, because that would be anti-German. History is history, so don't be a poor loser.

Who has enough time to raise a fuss about this nickname?

Don't get me wrong; there are legitimate arguments for abolishing some nicknames, such as the Redskins, Seminoles, etc. But this is just a date from history, a significant event.

Oh, wait, that's right, sports is all about business, not the story line, and the franchise is looking to cash in on that big Hispanic market. God, I hate money.

No, that's not true. I love money. I'm as venal as the owners of the Dynamo. But money just makes sports utterly ridiculous.

Random Thoughts, Pertaining to the Insanity Known As People

I think it is no coincidence that when you write online journals too frequently, you begin to associate the word "blogging" with the aftermath of excessive pub crawling. Random writing, like random incidents (and by incidents, I mean both people and events). Hence the format of this blog.

So, here are two sets of random thoughts of mine, pertaining to news stories that reveal that insanity is in fact the normal state of being for people. No, I'm not going to get into philosophical debates over the nature of sanity versus sanity. I'm just going to talk about penguins and sharks.

1. I Salute You, Citizens of Missouri

Browsing Yahoo!'s news section, I was heartened by this bit of news from Missouri. Vigilance, the eternal price of liberty, is alive and kicking in the nation's heartland. Well done, Missouri, you have lived up to your nickname and truly shown me something today.

Here's the story:
SAVANNAH, Mo. - A children's book about two male penguins that raise a baby penguin has been moved to the nonfiction section of two public library branches after parents complained it had homosexual undertones.

The illustrated book, "And Tango Makes Three," is based on a true story of two male penguins, named Roy and Silo, who adopted an abandoned egg at New York City's Central Park Zoo in the late 1990s.

The book, written by Peter Parnell and Justin Richardson, was moved from the children's section at two Rolling Hills' Consolidated Library's branches in Savannah and St. Joseph in northwest Missouri.

Two parents had expressed concerns about the book last month.

Barbara Read, the Rolling Hills' director, said experts report that adoptions aren't unusual in the penguin world. However, moving the book to the nonfiction section would decrease the chance that it would "blindside" readers, she said.

Back to me. I'm proud to live in a country where people still have the courage to stand up to the penguin-adoption lobbyists. This scourge of a special interest group that would have us believe that adoption is not a stigma is trying to get past our defenses by sneaking in their message in fancy-dress disguises.

Wait, what's that? You say that they were actually reacting to homosexual undertones? They think that if their children read this book, it will make them gay?

You're kidding. No. That's just crazy. Are you sure? Well, damn.

Okay, I guess that people in Missouri are just plain nuts.

2. Why Mike Myers Is To Blame For Everything.

http://www.commondreams.org/headlines06/0302-03.htm.

Stealth Sharks! Yeah!

I know all about the cruelty to animals, the paranoid, quasi-evil use of science, the sheer ridiculous Frankensteinism of the whole project, but still, Stealth Sharks! That's freaking cool! When are they getting the lasers?

Now we know where the Pentagon gets its brainstorms: Austin Powers. We can blame Donald Rumsfeld on Mike Myers, a Canadian! Everything is better when you can shift blame onto those smug northern bastards with the maple syrup, their beavers, and their curling (watch out, Toronto, we got a bronze in curling in Torino! We're on your tail).