Bob Bradley is Bad For America

I am, as many of you know, a soccer fan. In particular, over the past 6 years or so, I have pretty much watched every US men's national team game. Even when I have had to hunt the feed down on the internet because there was no coverage on cable. It's like being a hockey fan. ZING!

Which is why I am reflecting with sadness on yesterday's decision to extend coach Bob Bradley's contract through 2014. WARNING: This post is about to get really nerdy and detailed, so if you don't care about soccer or how the USA is perceived around the globe, then please quit reading now. Tomorrow, I'll be doing a post on processed foods that should not be--it'll be alot of fun, I promise.

Where was I? Oh yeah. The powers that be effed this decision up big time. Not because Bob Bradley isn't a nice guy--he seems pretty genuine and well liked by the players. And not because he isn't one of the better coaches the US team has ever had. He is. (shudder).

Mostly, this decision stinks because four more years of Bradley and his bland-as-vanilla tactics and his questionable lineup choices will not advance the progress US soccer has consistently made since 1990. Essentially, this decision says: "This is as good as the US will ever get at this sport."

Here, in a nutshell, is why Bob Bradley should have never been allowed near the US national team again:

• He is terrible at picking a team--You want two examples? Here ya go: Ricardo Clark starting against England (torched for the first goal), and Ricardo Clark starting against Ghana (got caught in possession, turnover led to first goal). And, let us not forget Demarcus Beasley. How he continued to get picked into the national side shows that Bradley doesn't know what he's doing, and is loyal to a fault.
  

• His match management skills are TERRIBLE--Listen, we're not fielding talent out there on par with the top 15 teams in the world, especially in terms of finishing and playmaking. Knowing this, Bradley would consistently roll out a defensive minded formation (see Ricardo Clark).
  

This formation would then promptly give up the first goal (3 times in the last WC--and don't get me started on the WC qualifiers). Bradley would then make changes (like subbing out Ricardo Clark for Edu) and implement more offensively minded formations. This would, more times than not, result in an equalizer. My question is: WHY NOT JUST PLAY THE FORMATION/SQUAD THAT HAS A CHANCE OF SCORING THE FIRST GOAL FROM THE BEGINNING? WHY WAIT UNTIL THE TEAM IS DOWN A GOAL TO MAKE ADJUSTMENTS THAT SHOULD HAVE BEEN MADE FROM THE BEGINNING? ARGGHH!

• It is time to pass the baton--This team needs fresh perspective. Bob Bradley is stuck in a rut in terms of tactics and team selection. In order for US soccer to grow, it needs a fresh look at things. New approach. New ideas. Maybe Jurgen Klinsmann was the guy to deliver that, maybe not. But, I do know that a more offensive minded approach from another head coach would have been interesting to watch. Instead, we get more of the same, grind-em-out results oriented footy. 2-1 over Honduras at home. 3-0 losses to Costa Rica away. Sigh. Pass.

So, the new boss is the same as the old boss. The only thing that has changed is my optimism for what this team can accomplish over the next four years.

Bring Back Live Television

So...after an epic (and successful!) day yesterday, mostly spent building a back gate and attaching gate shutting hardware to it during the hottest part of the afternoon, the Velogirl and I had earned a nice couch sit yesterday evening. How did we choose to celebrate being able to successfully close and open a back gate we fabricated ourselves using only our limited carpentry skills? By watching the Emmys. (dry cough)

Listen. Let me go on record as saying that I am a fan of award shows. Why? Not because I care about which show wins Best Drama or which actress is the funniest on TV, but because I am drawn, like a moth to a flame, to live television programming. I can't explain it. I like the unpolished trainwreck potential that only live TV can deliver.

So, I sit there last night for three hours, watching awful Jimmy Fallon do his B minus rehearsed material, hoping that Ricky Gervais or Neil Patrick Harris will appear and say something spontaneous and funny. Which they both did. Making the other 2 hours and 45 minutes worth it to me. It takes so little, I swear to God.

Television has devolved, if you ask me. At first, it was ALL live, which is still referred to as the "golden age" of TV. Is it just me, but anytime someone uses the term "golden age" to describe anything, I think of ways we can try to turn the current non-golden age back into the golden age.

Not TV execs though...no sir. Jackie Gleason once broke his leg on live television doing his signature fall, and Art Carney had to come out and say goodnight to the audience. I am SO angry I am not old enough to have seen that. How is that NOT great television in 2010? Fix it!

Then, we moved from the live, golden age to 'Taped in front of a Live studio audience' age. This, at least, gave us a laugh track, so at home, it at least SOUNDED as though you were watching it live. Cheers is probably the best example of this type of show. I submit to you that Cheers would have been at least 75% less funny if they didn't have the live audience to give you an opportunity to laugh along with someone. Sometimes, they would just put a fake laugh track on top of a show--MASH did this. It is the most annoying thing in the history of television. Moving on...

Nowadays it seems the the only shows carrying this proud torch of a forgotten time are award shows. And maybe "Dancing with the Stars". Oh, and SNL.

I mean, if TV execs would look, I'm sure they would notice that TV programming with the highest ratings are those that are broadcast live. NFL football, anyone? People like live drama unfolding before their eyes, from the comfort of their own homes. Why do you think reality TV is (was?) so popular? It FEELS live, even though it ain't. Technically, it classifies as unscripted. But, unscripted programming is just a thin substitute for the energy level of a live broadcast. Sorry.

Bring back live TV. Let's go back to the golden age for awhile and see what all the fuss was about.

Songs that Sound Like other Songs (part 2 of 300)

Happy Friday! First of all, I'd like to apologize for the brief sabbatical this week. Without a working computer that was built in the past 10 years, it's very difficult to write a blog post. Yeah, you heard it here first: computers are necessary for online journals. Who knew?

Well, I think it's safe to say that my crusade against musicians ripping off other musicians has thrown me down a rabbit hole. Through the looking glass, if you will. Once I decided to take up the cross of pointing out shit that bothers me to people who probably could not care less, I have been consumed.

Plus, it has spurned debate with some of my more musically inclined friends, some of whom have even attended conservatories of music. So, it's really great to have them in the braintrust. How does it help? Well...hmm...They can all sight sing. So, there's that. And they may know what fixed-do is. Not as relevant, perhaps. And, they can probably tell the difference between 6/8 and 3/4. That's something I put on every job application I fill out, so I can't see how it wouldn't help here.

Basically, the debate falls into two categories:

• People who have their own list of songs that bother them, and they are eager to share these examples with me. And I am only too happy to give them a shoulder to cry on.
  

• People who think that I need to get over it, after all, there are only so many notes and melodies to be written, yo!
  

Maybe I should get over it--maybe this is just another example of a failed musicians' bitter rage at people who are more talented and who have HAPPENED to have written a song that has blatantly ripped off the intellectual property of another person. Probably some truth to that.

You know what, though? Totally okay with my motivation. We're all just crabs in a barrel I guess--bringing other folks down just when they are about to get over.

On the other hand--Go screw.

Today's example has bothered me for years, and it involves my heroes, Rush. This is hardly groundbreaking stuff, but it just goes to show that even geniuses fail to adequately cite their source material.

Song 1: La Villa Strangiato--Rush. Parts V (Monsters!) and X (Monsters! (reprise)). Listen to this masterpiece beginning at the 7:50 mark:

vs.

Song 2: The Looney Tunes Factory Music, Carl Stalling.

Yeah, I know. It's the exact same melody, and the rhythm is right on top of it as well. And, if the boys had decided to credit that passage, or had not decided to title each movement, I would not be mentioning it. But, they didn't. So, it sticks in my craw. Can't explain why. It just does. And I know I'm being petty, but if you knew me, you would know that I am all about the big petty.

Have a great weekend!

Monday List of Ups and Downs

With the "GOD" inching closer to completion (just need some pavers, and couple of plants and a few more bags of mulch to put that to bed), and with the backyard fence project 80% complete (just need to build a gate and take down the old chain link monster), my mind has been moving away from projects and more towards "other shit I have time to think about."

Specifically, my thoughts are disturbingly divided into two basic categories: stuff that makes me happy, and stuff that bums me out. Here's my quick TV Guide rip-off list of each. It's amazing where your mind goes while digging in the dirt. Or, hanging fence/sweeping up a patio area that is starting to look like, well, a patio area...

Up:

• Andy Carroll and NUFC-- 6-0! Howray the Lads!

• DC 311--So what if it took a handful of calls from me and my neighbors? They finally got out here last Thursday and cleaned up the alley real nice--we're mattress free! I never thought I'd see the day--the Velogirl and I stood silently at the back fence, tears in our eyes, as they cleared the last of the debree--it was like watching the Nazis leave Paris.

• Commonwealth--no, not Virginia, the Columbia Heights British pub. On Sundays, they do a roast dinner, with potatoes and green beans and your choice of beef or lamb. Yeah, it was awesome. I love me a plate of triangle goodness: veggie, starch, protein. And the roast beef comes highly recommended by your's truly.

• A Decent Hammer--I could not locate my nice framing hammer for the fence project this weekend, so I had to put up a fence using my backup one that is about as light as a butter knife. It took me 2600 swings to drive a 3 1/2 inch nail about a 1/2 inch. So, yeah. Get yourself a nice heavy framing hammer and never let it out of your site.
  

Down:

• Consistent Volume Levels during "Mad Men"--I have to crank up the sound to hear the dialogue on my favorite Sunday night show. When I have that volume bar at around 70, it sounds like a quiet conversation. Then, when the commercials come on, the sound is amplified about 500 times, and I have to mute the channel before my eardrums explode. Listen, I'm not a sound engineer. But, levels are pretty much, like, sound 101. Can't they keep it at the same line level for an entire hour? Why does this happen every Sunday, and is it just me? Am I doing something wrong? ARGGH!

• Urban Wildlife--I don't like the fact that I have to talk rat prevention with my neighbors. Eww. Go away rats. Go back to Norwegia.

CIty Life--Outdoor Living Edition

I enjoy digging in the dirt. There is something very soothing about doing a filthy job, like planting flowers or shrubs. Plus, since my default "clean" is other people's, "FILTHY!", there are certain jobs out there that suit me better than others. This is one of them.

I only mention my love of dirt because this week, the "Garden of Destiny" (GOD) took a big leap forward with the installation of a raised bed, as well as two new additions to the yard, namely a holly bush and a hydrangea. Here's pictures of the new GOD members:

(Holly, you are MOST welcome here!)

(I promise to be patient with you, as long as by year three we get fist sized hydrangeas. Deal?)

One of the best parts of only owning 100 square feet of outdoor space is that a little goes a long way. So, that means cheap folks like me can plant less without the yard looking like a dirt farm. Next steps, you ask? Some paver stones so we don't have to walk on mulch to get to the hose. The velogirl also spotted some dandy dark mulch that should match the stain I threw on the new porch I put in this year. Going to spread that as soon as the monsoon season stops. Not that the new plants don't LOVE it.

Also, the back patio project has also been moving forward this week. Phase one: cleanup has been completed, leaving us with a clean prison yard look:

(Abandon all hope, all ye who live inside the great gate)

Not for long, as I have also secured some new back fence panels. Huzzah!

(Pretty! And SO heavy!)

Once we get those babies up, and the 9 foot chain link fencing down, we are gonna have ourselves the makings of a back patio. The kind where I can actually invite people out there, instead of pulling the shades down on that side of the house and hoping nobody gets curious.

If all goes well, I SHOULD have all the projects listed above completed this weekend. Just in time for fall. (dry cough). Well, if we put some mums in...we could just tell the neighbors that we've always wanted to plant a fall garden.

And, I figure, as long as don't throw mattresses out into our alley, nothing we do can be as reviled as the guys who use the area behind our house for illegal dumping. Constantly.

(Garbage as FAR as the eye can see...sigh.)

Which reminds me, it's time for me to make my third call to 311 about that. DC, you really try my patience some times.

Parents Weekend

My folks were down this weekend. Although most people I meet just assume I was left on a wolf den door by a band of mentally challenged gypsies (how else to explain the phenomenon of getting lettuce caught behind my ears while eating tacos?), I in fact, am from a proud and noble band of McBanks'.

And, let the record show, my parents tried their best to show me how to ingest a hard shelled taco like a civilized person, I swear. I just get SO excited when they are in front of me, that I kind of black out while I'm eating them. Next thing I know, I've eaten 3/4 pound of ground beef, two cups of cheese, all the taco shells, and am just shaking old el paso taco sauce onto my tongue before someone finally throws water on me and snaps me out of my trance. But, this post isn't about how awesome taco dinner night is. Moving on...

I like having the parents visit for a variety of reasons. For one, they are very nice to the Wonderdog and the Owen Monster. And, the animals are irrationally attached to my parents. This happens with the Velogirl's parents as well. I know I shouldn't get jealous, but I kinda hate the two animals for showing affection so quickly to people that don't feed them every day. I know, it's not rational.

For two, I like how my parents almost never say "FUCK!" while performing a U-turn in the middle of a cornfield near St. Michaels, MD. Although it has been known to happen. Did it happen this weekend? no comment.

For three, they are just real nice folks who make friends wherever they go. At a certain point in the weekend, my parents were able to talk to someone for five minutes and discover that she was married to someone from Rhode Island. I have conversations all the time, but I usually manage to say something rude before 'potential common areas of interest' are brought up. That skill must skip a generation. Another three minutes, and the same woman is giving them lunch recommendations based on appetite, proximity to water, and possible food allergies. I mean, c'MON!

My mom also had the hostess at a restaurant tell her that she liked the way she "smells". Had I been put in the same situtation, I probably would have given the person my best "are you out of your goddamn mind? HOW DARE you address me so informally!" stare, but she handled it really graciously. If it is even possible to be gracious when a total stranger admires your scent. Jury is still out on that one.

Most of all, the Velogirl and I have been spoiled the past two weekends with back to back visits from our family. It's nice to know there are people out there who care about you, no matter what the 'ell happens, or how many mexican restaurants you are thrown out of due to overexcited eating.

Now that I have the Wonderdog's undivided attention once again, I kind of wish I didn't.

Farewell Football, Hello Soccer.

So, I'd like to say a final farewell to the NFL, as I will not be tuning in this year, unless by accident. It's official: I don't like to watch football anymore. The truth is, we've been drifting apart for years. I think it's a combination of three factors:

1) The games have too many commercials, so the entire flow of the game (from my interest point) is always getting interrupted. It should not take three hours to play a one hour game, but maybe that's just me.

2) The game destroys the athletes that play it. This has been going on for years, but either I didn't notice or care when I was a kid growing up and watching every play. It just chews them up and spits them out. Here's just something I dug up on the web from the St. Petersburg Times: "While U.S. life expectancy is 77.6 years, recent (2006) studies suggest the average for NFL players is 55, 52 for linemen." So, the game kills the fat guys who play it, and I think I kind of take offense to that. And don't get me started on concussions. Or Earl Campbell.

3) Soccer. Specifically, EPL. Even more specifically, Newcastle United. My fall weekends are now spoken for.

I played soccer as a kid and loved it. It is a truth universally acknowledged that if you are a husky child, then you play goalie. And so it was with me. Plus, on my street, we already had a real engine room of a midfield with Jeff and Danny Cullen, and in back we had Roy Keane lookalike Greg Gibson. Once in a while, Jay Quinlan or Marc or Paul DeCastro would show up to stick the ball in the net--soccer prodigies all. At least for Pawcatuck--all Stonington "A" soccer team quality.

So, the love was sewn early. Then, in the early 90's, Fox Sports World came to the cable world. My introduction to the Euro soccer world. Got sucked in. More specifically, I got sucked in by a little team from the Northeast of England called Newcastle United.

I had flirted with other teams at first, sure. But, then there was this game in 1996, which sucked me in for good:

(5-o to the Toon! Howray the Lads!)

It wasn't that they won, it was the way Newcastle played (at least in those days), where they were SO attack minded. It could have been 6 or 7 nil, really. Since then, I have made arrangements to watch them play most every weekend. Including this weekend, when we renew our rivalry with those cheating cheaters from Manchester United. Back in the top flight. Long may we survive.

City Life--The Floods Have Come Edition

So, I guess what comes up, must come down. After days and days of unfair heat in/about the 100 degree mark (that's 38 Celsius for you Canadian sympathizers), the flood gates opened up this morning here in the district. DCist had some great photos of the aftermath, including this one, not even two blocks away:

(Courtesy of DCist.com)

Of course, normally I don't give a flying fig what happens TWO WHOLE BLOCKS away, but apparently it also rained here. And FLOODED here. Flood waters roll, yo! Who knew?

It all started this morning when I went into the lower level to let the Wonderdog out of his captivity. I noticed a clear, watery substance on the floor, which, upon closer inspection, turned out to be water. This has happened before, but not since the washing machine wiggled free of it's drainage hose in the spring of 2009. That spilled hot bleach water onto the floor, which was a mess, but also probably cleaned the floors pretty well. This version was cold, and about 2 inches deep in places. This was obviously not "HEAD FOR HIGH GROUND!" flooding. More like "This is going to be a messy morning cleanup." level of flooding.

Some observations: water that comes into your house from the outside isn't happy unless it destroys something when it gets there. This morning's casualty was the only rug I had down there--it was seriously on the other side of the floor. Soaked. The good news? Wonderdog was less than 2 feet away and dry as a bone. I think he went all Gromit on the sitch and pulled a lever which raised his crate and allowed the water to pass underneath. Lately, the Wonderdog has been checking out alot of books at the library on mechanical engineering, so it all makes sense now.

Also, whoever invented the wet/dry vac should be a billionaire. Ours has come through in the clutch twice now, once during the great plaster storm of 2010, (when I decided that exposed brick was the way to go), and now during the minimal flooding episode of summer 2010. Why aren't ALL vacuums wet/dry vacs? This feature should be standard on all models. Maybe I'll have the Wonderdog put together a business proposal for that Dyson fellow.

Songs that Sound like other Songs (part 1 of 300)

You ever hear a song on your iPod/Zune/Pandora/radio listening machines that, after listening, you say: "That sounds EXACTLY like that other song--holy crap!" (also, there are still radio stations? really? I'll take your word for it, I guess.)

This happens to me all the effing time. Mostly, it's during the beginning of the tune, when you think it's going to be one song, but ends up being something completely different. I get irrationally irritated when this happens. Just ask the Velogirl--her eyes may one day permanently get stuck looking upwards after one too many times rolling her eyes at me when I point these instances out. I can't NOT get riled up.

I'm not talking about R&B/Hip-Hop hooks. Rap artists and producers are guilty of musical incest--and there are simply too many examples of "HEY! that's from THAT SONG" in the genre to even begin to cite. Suffice to say, many of their beats are iron poor and suffer from hemophilia, as they have married their cousins too many times, so to speak. The royal sample disease and all that. Moving on...

Today I will feature an example of this annoying phenomenon (at least to me) in the rock genre. Both are from earlier eras, as am I. So go screw if you want a 2010 version. Rest assured, I will be rolling one out before you in later installments.

EXAMPLE 1 (Click on the Links to hear/watch the tunes):

1. Sublime--"What I Got" vs. Beatles "Lady Madonna".

The melody for the verses is the EXACT. FUCKING. SAME. I mean, how do you get away with that? Better yet, how does one of your band mates not come up to you and say, "You know, that sounds an AWFUL lot like Lady Madonna. Maybe we should change it up."

Tatooed, smacked-out Sublime guy is dead, I know, and it's poor form to speak ill of the dead. But... shame, sir. Shame. It's not like you ripped a tune that was obscure--It's the Beatles. People are gonna notice. Sigh...this irked me when the song first came out, it irks me now, and it irks me whenever EITHER song is played. Not that often, I'll grant you, but...you get the point. SHAME!

Sorry, that's been festering for a while. Enjoy your humpday.

Stay Cool--DC in August Edition

I'm not telling you anything you don't know, but August in DC is hot and humid. Congress flees the city to avoid it, their staffers flee the city because they do what their congressman tells them, and lobbyists take this opportunity to flee to their beach houses in Rehoboth. I mean, the heat shuts the government down.

(Okay, I know, TRADITIONALLY, Congressmen were given an August break to go back home and tend to their farms before/during harvest, but we don't have a lot of gentleman farmers on Cap Hill anymore. Yet the break remains. Go fig.)

All of this flight leaves the rest of us to fend for ourselves in sultry, swamp-like conditions. How are we to cope?

Enter the Arnold Palmer. Half Iced Tea, Half Lemonade, 100 percent refreshing and delicious. I probably drink between 18-20 glasses/week of this nectar, and never get sick of it. Ever. Well, sometimes I do, actually.

When you hold a particular drink as often as I hold an "AP", you begin to think of ways to make it better. Sadly, it can't be done. HOWEVER, subtle changes yield exciting and wonderful new flavors so foreign to the original as to warrant a different name entirely. I mean, Arnie can't be all things to all people--he's just one drink. And a golfing legend.

What do I mean? Well, allow me to submit to you some new combos for you to try this week as you try to stay cool, Murray.

NEW NAMING CONVENTIONS--ARNOLD PALMER MODIFIED BEVERAGES

• Iced Tea + Lemonade= Arnold Palmer
• Iced Tea + Lemonade + Vodka= John Daly
• Iced Tea + Pink Lemonade= Nancy Lopez
• Green Iced Tea + Lemonade= Jumbo Ozaki
  
• Green Iced Tea + Pink Lemonade= Michelle Wie? (Weak, I know)
• Iced Tea + Lemonade + Whiskey= Padraig Harrington

I could go on forever, but this should get you through this week, at least. Serve over ice.

Dorky Musician Debate Topics

Chuck Klosterman was recently featured in a two-part Bill Simmons podcast on ESPN. Simmons is very much 'hit or miss' these days, but very 'hit' when Klosterman is on, mainly because the guy knows his music.

On this last version, Chuck mentioned how hard it was to find people to debate music with, because of the subjectivity, and also because the person you are debating must:

a) Be as knowledgeable as you are on the subject. (good luck, Chuck!)
b) Appreciate the same kind of music that you do, so as to debate the merits of producers/artists in that genre.

This second point got me thinking about a recent exchange with some musician buddies of mine who, you know, are actually still musicians. Unlike me. My musicianship these days mainly consists of trying to figure out how to play songs like "Whiskey in the Jar" on the ukulele . Not a wide audience for that. Moving on...

So, here's a few things that the idiots I know have been talking about.

DEBATE TOPIC 1: Who's Country is it?
I have a buddy who has been recently recording alot of the top 40 country music stuff for some local talent, jumping in on bass and guitar where needed. Keith Urban, Brad Paisley, Kenny Chesney...stuff like that.

This caused me to chime in, as I am not a fan of this kind of music. Not because I don't like country music. I do. I just don't like new, top 40 country. At all.

I ain't saying they ain't great musicians--Paisley, Vince Gill, Keith Urban, that girl who was on SNL...not to mention the studio guys backing them up--mother effer musicians all.

But, to my ears, the sum adds up to be so much less than the individual parts. It's just all too shiny and minute rice perfect.

I like the sound of live, honkytonk style country instead--Willie, Waylon, Cash... the outlaws.

Plus, the new guys are pussies when it comes to the subject matter of their songs.

Can you see Kenny Chesney releasing an equivalent to Willie's "I Can Get Off on You"?

Of course not. It's all, "it's 5 o'clock somewhere". When did COUNTRY music become wuss-central When? Hank Williams (1 or 2) would have punched out Mr. Chesney for having the balls to wear a cowboy hat while he sings that song.

DEBATE TOPIC 2: FAVORITE BEATLE DURING and AFTER

As old as time itself. Without getting into too much detail: here seems to be the breakdown from my musical braintrust:

Paul--By just a hair, voted everyone's favorite while in the Beatles, mainly because of his bass playing and songwriting skills. He lost his fastball after 1972. Wings...sigh. Got on HGH in the 90's and had a little Roger Clemens-like renaissance. Now, every album he releases is just a blight on his legacy.

John--The french classical composer of the group, and didn't suck QUITE as bad as Paul immediately following breakup. But again, really missed the give and take from Paul. Here's a guy who needed someone else to tell him when his songs sucked. Didn't live long enough to put out a new wave album, sadly enough.

George--A lot of love for George, during and post Beatlemania. He gets tons of votes from musicians as their favorite Beatle, i've found. And, then there's "Got my Mind Set on You." Well, it was the 80's. Even Buster Poindexter had a hit.

Ringo--Who?

DEBATE TOPIC 3: TOP 5 BASS ALBUMS

Okay, so this sprung out of the Beatles talk, and is really my thread for this blog. To my mind, Paul is one of the most underrated bass players ever. Which is hard to do, because he's an effing Beatle, you know?

So, here's my top 5 bass albums--Rock Division.

5) Rush, Hemispheres--Geddy Lee. La Villa Strangiato is enough to get in my top 5.
4) Primus, Sailing the Seas of Cheese--Les Claypool. Grab a bass, and try to write something as cool as "Jerry was a Racecar Driver", then argue with me.
3) RHCP, BSSM--Flea. I mean, he IS that album. And it's a good one.
2) Rush, Moving Pictures--Geddy Lee. Red Barchetta. Tom Sawyer. YYZ. Holy. Crap.
1) Beatles, Abbey Road--Paul McCartney. Just a master class, if you ask me. It's all so. good. and musical. And I hear something different every time.

And the beat goes on.

City Life--Why Fenty should win, even though he's an insufferable jackass.

Well, looks like DC has got a humdinger of an election coming up for mayor. Before I weigh in and you, god forbid, take anything I'm about to say seriously, read the following paragraph:

Notice. I'm not a DC lifer. I've only been here on and off since 1994. I am not steeped in the history of the District. I have not celebrated each high point, or suffered through every low point. Nor am I in tune with many issues that don't directly affect my dear olde Ward 4. (God, I sound like a nearsighted, gentrificatin', under-educated bag o' dicks when it comes to DC politics, don't I? Please don't answer that.)

Because I have a beard and know how to rock the thoughtful, psudo-intellectual, 'might be an out of work philosophy professor' look while sipping coffee over at Qualia, strangers are always coming up to me and asking for help weighing the pros/cons of Mayor Adrian Fenty and Council ChairVincent Gray. Or, maybe that's just the syphilis hallucinations kicking in and I'm really just giving advice to my thumbs. Again. Either way, my opinion is sought after, be it by real or imaginary appendage folk. Moving on...

Fenty is getting my vote this year. Lest you think I'm just being all cavalier about this decision (you've got SOME attitude!), let me break it down for ya one time. Here's how I'm going to do this. I'm going to rank the issues based on two categories: Shit EVERYONE in DC cares about, and shit only I and a handful of "tweed ride" veteran Ward 4 folk care about. Let's get started.

GET BEHIND THIS DC:

• Public Safety: Crime is down. Even better-- violent crime is down. I haven't heard a gunshot in almost 9 days as of this writing. It's August--I EXPECT to hear shots near every night. (Unless this points to machete specialists MS-13 completing their takeover of the drug trade.)
  
  So, hats off--Fenty and his appointed Chief Lanier must be doing something right, and I'd like it to continue, please and thank you. Gray doesn't even have a public safety plan on his website, and the election is 6 weeks away. So...are you going to get on that, Councilman?

• Education: Fenty appointed Michele Rhee as DC schools Chancellor, and I'd like to see where this story ends, to be perfectly honest. Plus, Fenty stood by her when she fired 241 teachers this past month. That took real guts to let her dismiss that many so close to the election. And maybe just a little bit of stupidity. My kind of public servant.
  
  Gray, again, other than promising education for everyone from birth to age 24, doesn't really have a plan on how to pay for it, nor how to accomplish it. Or, how to deal with under-performing schools. This for me, sums up the Gray campaign--It all sounds great from a distance, but the closer one gets, the less details seem to be available.
  

ALL YOU WARD 4 BICYCLISTS AND STREETCAR LOVERS, LISTEN UP:

• Bicycle Infrastructure: Fenty is an avid bicyclist, so guess what? He takes care of us fellow peddlers. I feel like we could do with some more places to lock up, especially in that CoHi target area, but there's no doubt he's incorporated bicycling into his transportation policy, especially judging by expansion of bike lanes both on 14th and on Georgia Ave. Even though bicycle lanes are death traps. But, another time for that argument.
  

Nothing to say that Gray won't continue this trend--I just don't think it will be one of
his pet projects.

• Streetcar Project: Georgia Avenue: Fenty wants 'em, Gray seems to want to do something a little more worthwhile with the money instead. I want them, because I'd like to see what even more access to Georgia Avenue would do for economic development.
  

Nothing against Vincent Gray, who is the kind of person you want in public service, to be honest. He just doesn't have executive office in him.

I kind of feel the same way about him as I did about Hillary Clinton. I mean, Hillary, by all accounts, was a pretty terrific Senator. But, she gave it all up for a run at president. I mean, what's WRONG with being a good Senator? Why mess with that? Similarly, what's WRONG with being DC council president, with your hands on the purse strings? I don't get it. Maybe it's just because I'm an unmotivated slob.

So, if me and the Washington Post have our way, we'll have four more years of the prickly, irascible, pissed off dandy hat wearer from Mt. Pleasant.

Gravity is Overrated

Personally, I think it's time we did away with gravity. I mean, what has it really done for us? Keep us from floating away? You don't think that we would have figured out how to stop that from happening? Even cave men could have held onto rocks. Bed made, I says.

As a fellow human, I'm appalled that we haven't done more to remove ourselves from this g-force slavery. I mean, we've put a hole in the ozone layer, destroyed rainforests, flooded the oceans with dinosaur goo, put hundreds of species out of business...how come we haven't done something to screw up the hold gravity has on us? Hang your heads in collective shame, evil scientist community.

Maybe all we need is someone to set a goal for this to happen. Very well--i am offering 100 million dollars to the first person who can stop gravity from happening for one whole day. That's right--that's almost 101 million dollars I'm offering for the person who can bring this force of nature to justice.

For me, the last straw came yesterday, when I fell down the stairs for the 18th time in my life. This one was particularly rough, as my back had just recently recovered from a rogue laundry basket taking its revenge. Now, I have a manhole sized bruise that stems from my "sitbone" to the middle of my back. It hurts to sit, it hurts to stand, it. just. hurts. I for one am TIRED of gravity throwing me down a flight of stairs once every two years just so it can feed its fragile ego. Not to mention that it has constantly and consistently kept me off of all varsity basketball teams I have tried out for, even though I can make it rain from 18 feet.

So, if you're an evil scientist, and you've just needed a push to finish that anti-gravity ray, here it is. Submit all plans to the comments section of this blog. All entries that don't incorporate my name in the title will not be considered. I want gravity's last thought to be, "I can't believe McBanks got the better of me." Like the warden in Shawshank.

Monday Burn

How great is it to get hurt doing something absolutely awesome? I mean, if you're going down in a heap, doubled over in agony, don't you want it to be for doing something exceptionally heroic/manly? Like deadlifting 450 pounds? Or removing a tree stump with your bare hands? I mean, as dangerous as those activities are, nobody would ever look at you like you're an idiot if you pulled up lame afterwords. So, have you ever hurt yourself after going max effort and coming up just a bit short?

No, you haven't. You're full of shit. I bet you're like the rest of humanity, and get hurt doing something so innocuous that you're afraid to tell the story to your closest friend, for fear that this admission will lose you even more respect in the community.

But, don't feel bad. Not all of us can be Joe Theismann types. (And no, I'm not going to link to the compound fracture footage, because I watched it live and I'm still scarred. You have a computer and access to youtube, don't you?--gross yourself out.)

Take me for example. Why, last week I threw out my back rescuing newfoundlands from a burning animal shelter--i strapped 650 pounds of wiggly puppy on my shoulders and made a run through burning timbers and ash. It was only after I was outside and released the dogs from my grasp that I realized my lower back had locked up and I couldn't stand up straight. How's that for heroic?

What's that? alright. Promise you won't tell. I tweaked my lower back picking up an empty laundry basket. It hurt SO bad! For like, two days.

Then, this weekend, I pulled an ass muscle sleeping. The good news is that the lower back injury seems to have disappeared. Maybe it's just the one owie!, and it is slowly moving south. If it gets to my kneecaps, i'm calling a doctor.

Mondays suck.