Ladies of the 80s: Susanna Hoffs

Today I got a special request to do a Ladies of the 80s feature again, and I will greatly oblige with the 2nd hottest girl group lead singer of the decade.

Oh, Susanna Hoffs. Where do I begin? As good a place as any would be the look you gave in the 'Walk Like an Egyptian' video (as shown in the photo accompanying this piece). Those gigantic doe eyes, looking around sort of scared like, made even a five year old Jake put down his G.I. Joes in awe. Sure the song pretty much sucks (I mean, why are the party boys calling the Kremlin exactly?) but the peepers that take up 62% of your head more than make up for it.

While doing a Google Image search for my "research" for this article, I came across many a screen shot for the scene Miss Hoffs did in some movie called The All Nighter. Seeing as how this is a family blog, I will not publish them and will instead suggest the readers search them out themselves. They will not dissappoint.

Much like the last Lady of the 80s Belinda Carlisle, I also dug on some of the Bangles jams. 'Hero Takes A Fall' is the jangle pop confection that got Symbolina to write songs for the group, and it is totally serviceable 80s Modern Rock. 'Manic Monday' never dissapoints, even though NBC playing this song during Super Bowl XXIII coverage made me think the Niners were playing the Cincinatti Bangles.

The real cream of the crop is 'Eternal Flame' though. For some reason, this song actually made a college mix of mine between Wire's '12XU' and some song by Our Lady Peace. Still to this day when it comes on random on the JakePod, it never gets skipped, and I usually do some seriously flamboyant hand motions while singing it in the car. Strangely, it captures the emotion of longing for me much more poignantly than more serious songs. Maybe it's the tone of the song, or the lyrics. Or maybe it's due to the fact that Susanna Hoffs is a smokin hot piece of ass. I'm not totally sure. All I know is that I totally carry an eternal flame for this lady from the 80s.

KDWB in 1995

I am a huge sucker for nostalgia. I'm not sure why...I just like things from the past better. It's not that I believe in the whole "things were so much better then" credo, it's just my bag, baby. This particularly pertains to radio. Which is why I love this little baby I stumbled across today so much:

http://airchexx.com/2010/05/20/john-london-101-3-kdwb-twin-cities-july-15-1996/

Yes, 45 minutes of KDWB from my 7th grade summer. The label is wrong, I am positive this tape is from 1995 due to the songs ("Waterfalls" and the "Total Eclipse of the Heart" cover both were massive hits around June/July 1995) and the movies (I remember being really really AMPED to see Congo at the Brookdale 8 that summer).

What stands out to me (besides the fact that Dave Ryan is still the fucking morning DJ 16 years later) is the amount of old tunes the station played. And they were ballads. "More Than Words" charted at #1 in 1991 and "Right Here Waiting" in 1989. Today you rarely ever hear a song older than two or three years on the radio. I think some of it was that KDWB leaned much more rock in the early 90s. I distinctly remember hearing "Disarm" by the Smashing Pumpkins on the station regularly, and that wasn't even a top 40 hit.

Oh, and the ads are priceless. What ever happened to Sidewalk Sales anyways? And when the hell was there a rock club over on 26th and 26th in MPLS? I would have totally paid 10 bucks to see Firehouse near the height of their powers.

Songs I'm Embarassed to Own Volume II: Underneath Your Clothes'

Deep at heart, I am a sexist pig. Well, sometimes not even deep at heart. When it comes to my music, I usually don't hold female artists in the same regard as male artists. It's awful, but I usually like a woman's music more if I want to fuck them.

This artist is no different.

Shakira exploded onto the scene right around 9/11, shaking her Colombian/Persian hips all over the MTV and VH1 late night video shows a semi-employed and out of school Jake Eickholt was watching. And I liked that. In fact, I may have "liked" it to her video for 'Whenever, Wherever' a few times. But that is not why we are here today.

Miss Shakira's next top ten single (and her last for almost five years) was the incomprehensable ditty 'Underneath Your Clothes'. With lines like "You're a song/written by the hand of God" and "I love you more than all that's on the planet/Movin', Walkin', Talkin', Breathin'" you can tell this wasn't written by Dylan (or even the dudes who wrote Milli Vanilli's shit).



Yet still, Shakira delivers a command performance. I have heard that her mix of rock and pop made her a sensation in Latin speaking countries, and I can see it in 'Underneath'. I will admit it...this song kind of rocks. Check out the breakdown where Shakira makes like Axl Rose and gets straight up 'Nighttrain' on the bitch. And the Kermit the Frog honking somehow works with the Mom Rock acousitc guitar going on throughout the song. I'm ashamed to say it, but if this comes on the iPod or at the doctors office, I want to sing along at the top of my English As a First Language lungs.

So there you have it. Would I like 'Underneath Your Clothes' if it was sung by, say, the fat chick from The Donnas? Possibly. I do like some songs by less than attractive chicks ('Rolling in the Deep' by Adele comes to mind, as does 'Me and Bobby McGee' by Overrated Ass Janis Joplin). But sometimes the prettiest present under the tree gets picked first.

Songs I'm Embarassed to Own Volume I: 'Winchester Cathedral'

I love music. I love music more than I could (in all likelihood) ever love a spouse. Sometimes statements like that make me think I love music a little too much.

One problem with loving music so much is that absolute crap slips through the cracks. Where a completely rational person would go "that song is fucking rancid. I think I'm going to listen to something that doesn't make me want to hatemaimrape" I say "hey, I kind of like that."

One of those songs is the following:



Yes, a song about a fucking cathedral sung by a proto hipster through a Rudy Vallie megaphone. 'Winchester Cathedral' was one of the biggest hits of 1966, yet I have no idea why. The sound of young America was Motown and British Invasion, and the old folks were still bumping Elvis and Sinarta. How did this spend time at #1, along with 'You Can't Hurry Love'?

My big theory is that the intro sounds like a commercial for Diet Pepsi, so people had a Pavlovian response to the song. Pepsi was juuuuust starting to take off, so the Pepsi Generation subconsciously took this piece of dreck to platinum status. Or it could be the whistling...

The embarrassing part of all this is while I could skip 'Winchester Cathedral' when it comes on my iPod, I choose not to probably 100% of the time. I have a weakness for stupid Vaudeville songs. Yep, 'I'm Henry VIII I Am' and 'When I'm 64' never get skipped either. I often wonder why I have this proclivity. I guess sometimes it's better NOT to wonder why we like the shit we do. Just whistle a happy tune and think about the bells, like my nephews in the New Vaudeville Band.

Worst Commercial Ever?

Very rarely does my degree in communications come into play. I deal with Point of Sale software, not ad campaigns or PR for chrissakes. Still, I love advertising. I admire a well crafted ad, one that makes you laugh or say, "I wonder why they did that?"

This ad is not one of them.



I mean, who friend requests someone they just went on a date with? What kind of dolt DOESN'T know a date was good? And how was this chick's status update the first person on his news feed?

Overall, the ad just reeks of something written by a twentysomething who has never been on a good first date. A good first date doesn't usually end in an awkward kiss with very little small talk. Plus, the ad now makes me not want to buy a Chevy Cruze or learn anything else about the car. Fail, fail, fail, epic fail.

A Drunkards Visit to Target

Tonight was one of those impromptu drinking nights that were so magical in college and so uncommon in these days of adulthood. Someone said "wanna go out for drinks?" and then Old Chicago was summoned like a Final Fantasy VII spell.

Being the old ass man I am, three beers got me plenty buzzed. Seeing as how this Old Chicago has a Target next door, it felt like the right thing to go blow some cash. Here is what a drunk dude buys at Target:

-1 bag of Pizza Doritos
-1 Quart of Lavender Scented Bleach
-2 Greek yogurts (pineapple and blueberry)
-1 Drake "Thank Me Later" CD
-1 12 Pack of Cherry Diet Dr Pepper
-1 AMP Energy Drink
-1 Box of Peppermint Tic Tacs

Total: 27 dollars. I think the best lesson to be learned here is that you shouldn't go to the absent minded shopping Mecca that is Tar-Zay with a boozed up noggin. Because then you just buy with the impulsive part of your brain.

Reserved For Family Parking.....ppfffff

So I went to Best Buy tonight after work, and noticed that there were six open spots near the enterance. I assumed they were handicapped spots (which I'm totally fine with). As I moved closer, I realized that two of the spots were handicapped and that four of the spots were labeled "Reserved For Family Parking". So I did what came naturally.

I parked the Focus in one of those bitches and walked into the store.

Family parking is fucking bullshit, plain and simple. So what, your little shits are whining because they have to be pushed in their little strollers a few feet? Guess what: it was your fucking choice to breed. It's not my problem you didn't want to use a rubber, a fucking sponge or a goddamn diaphragm. Or you didn't pull out because you wanted to make a life or some stupid new agey hokum.

The worst part is that the Eden Prairie Best Buy has like four of these spots and just as many handicapped spots. I personally find this offensive as all hell. My dad cannot walk well. He has a disease that he didn't ask for that causes his body to betray him. And he chooses NOT to use a handicapped plate because he is either a)pigheaded (according to me) or b)has a huge sense of pride (according to him). Yet, some stupid cougar and her little bastards with names like Madison and Dallin get to park closer because they feel entitled? Fuck and No.

So from now on, I am parking in the "Reserved For Family Parking" spots whenever I can. I hope some surly ass business man with his toe headed brood or some Prada Napsack carrying soccer mom tells me off. Because they are going to get a piece of my mind.

Karl Malone 1990-91 SkyBox

As a kid I spent almost all my allowance/paper route money on sports cards. I would beg my parents to take me to the Shinder's in Crystal where I would blow my 10 year old fatstacks on "innovative" cards like those produced by SkyBox.

SkyBox Basketball came on the scene in 1990. The main selling point for the brand was that their cards had computerized graphics along with the standard action shots of the players. Unfortunately, the "computerized graphics" were mainly just squiggles or random pastel colored shapes. My roommate once described it as "Kevin Duckworth with a fucking trapezoid".

Which brings us to Karl Malone. My younger brother went to the MOA yesterday and bought a bunch of packs of old basketball and baseball cards. He was kind enough to let me open some of the packs. This is one of the beauties I pulled out:



Yes, nothing says one of the top 20 greatest NBA players ever like a bunch of random colored circles. The whole thing just looks muddled and vaguely like something an 8th grader would draw in art class. But the real treat is the back of the card:



HOLYFUCKINGSHIT. Anyone who followed the NBA during the 90s knows that Karl is from Bumfucknowhere, Louisiana. Amhad Rashad rammed that down our collective throat enough during Inside Stuff. But why exactly was Malone being filmed riding a horse in period gear? Was he guesting on Lonesome Dove? Was he shooting an audition tape for The Postman? And why in the fuck is this on the back of a basketball card? I'm pretty sure these same questions went through most sane people's heads when pulling this out of the wrapper back in the day. Time has only deepened the mystery.

And don't even get me started on the Mark Jackson in a leather blazer and turtleneck card I also pulled out of the same pack...

Highlights of the Week 1/15/11

The first two months of the year are usually awful. Very little sunlight, it's cold as ice (it's also willing to sacrifice our love) and there is no baseball. To combat the overall malaise I feel around this time of the year, I am trying to accentuate the positive. Here is what went right for me this week:

-Went to the doctor on Wednesday and noticed a huge chart on the wall with bar graphs labeled "profit", "referals" and "revenue". This is why I avoid the doctor as much as possible. All about money, not about care. At least the absurdity of it all made me laugh.

-The Twins re-signed Jim Thome. It's going to be really rad to see him hit #600 in a Twins uni.

-My company holiday party allowed me to drink top shelf booze for free, and also mainline apps for free as well. Plus, I got a nifty little trophy for 3 years of loyal service.

-I bought some new discs that all turned out to be sweet: the new Cake, Sleigh Bells and a Dion album produced by Phil Spector. The Dion album in particular is amazing. It sounds like something passed down from heaven. Simply magical.

-Taxes are complete, and I am getting a nice little chunk of change back. Methinks a Rust Belt baseball road trip is in order with the proceeds.

So there you go. Winter in the MN may be deadening and bleak, but at least I have the above to cheer me up.

After The Rain

Holy shit, I can't sleep after my men's rec-league basketball team won AGAIN tonight (bringing our season record to 2-2). I also can't sleep due to finally completeing my MP3 collection of the Hot 100 hits of 1991.

So much pap, but all so tasty. Most of the songs from that year remind me of riding my bike, pining for Frank Thomas rookie cards and playing RBI Baseball for the NES. I was young, dumb, in love with neon colored shorts and I would stay up all night Saturday to watch that NBC video countdown show with Scott Shannon. Sure, Sonic Youth and Ice Cube may have been the underground and critical darlings, but I just wanted to know why fucking Ted "Theodore" Logan was at the shrink in the Paula Abdul video for "Rush, Rush".

Anyways, one song struck me as particualrly awesome while listening to the tracks tonight:



Yes, I loved "After The Rain" an unhealthy amount as a child. I remember snowmobiling at my Grandparent's cabin to some bar called the White Hawk and playing this on the jukebox at least ten times in a row. I also may have played KLAX and for sure ended up eating tons of fried cheese.

Analyzing Nelson 20 some years on, I still like this song. And I absolutely fucking love Nelson's other big hit"(I Can't Live Without) Your Love and Affection". I guess it plays into my love for pop pap. There's twin dudes with chick hair singing angelic harmonies, a quasi power ballad solo, and a redemption theme. By the board nonsense that 8 year old Jake and 28 year old Jake can agree on wholehartedly.

The Music of 2K10

Ahhh...always late am I. Although this list may be redundant now, I still have to get it out there for the two or three loyal readers I have.

Please note: The top 25 songs are probably going to cause me a lot of grief. For some reason, 2010 really was a year of feel for me. The songs listed below were usually not about artistic merit, but that they made me specifially feel like a summer breeze at 9 o' clock in June in a convertible.

ALBUMS OF 2010
1. Black Keys - Brothers
Such a revelation after the shit fest that was Strange Times. Back to their kickass roots, wallowing in some sort of primordial swamp funk that birthed Fogerty and countless blues pioneers. Somehow they came out of the funk with a Gold Record and a #1 single. Just goes to show, every once in a while, the cream does rise to the top. And what cream! "Everlasting Light"!! "Sinister Kid"! "Next Girl"!! "Unknown Brother"!! The Black Keys have their masterpiece. Now, let us hope they don't lose their shit and hire a producer like Danger Mouse to do their next platter...

2. LCD Soundsystem - This is Happening
In any other year, the album of the year. A dance punk fiasco. Too bad the plug is being pulled.

3. Kanye West - My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy
Pop art by one conflicted ass motherfucker. Dark, dense, and strangely catchy.

4. Vampire Weekend - Contra
Basically their debut record again...but hey, it worked for the Ramones!

5. Best Coast - Crazy For You
6. Waaves - King of the Beach
Companion pieces to a drugged out Summer of Bummer...

7. Maximum Balloon
If there was an aural equvalent of fucking in 2K10, this was it

8. Gaslight Anthem - American Slang
More street corner poetry from The Anthem

9. Cee Lo Green - The Ladykiller
The soul album Cee Lo Green should have made from the get-go

10.J. Roddy Walston and the Business
Scuzzy rock from the demonspawn of GNR and Kings of Leon

11. Arcade Fire - The Suburbs
After about the 10th listen, it sinks in and you realize its worth the critical praise. Sort of

12. Against Me - White Crosses
Arena ready punk with a soul from Jacksonville, of all places

13. Hold Steady - Heaven is Wherever
Hey, Craig Finn learned how to croon a bit! More tenderness than usual...still grand, though.

14. Fitz and The Tantrums - S/T
White boy decides to channel his inner Daryl Hall and John Oates. The result: Blue Eyed Soul 2K10

15. Deftones - Diamond Eyes
Finally, a return to form after wallowing in mediorctriy for a decade.

16. Jamey Johnson - The Guitar Song
Outlaw country mixed with a modern feel. This ain't for the Mich Golden Light and Franzia set.

17. Hotrats - S/T
Two of the dudes from underrated 90s Britpop legends Supergrass decide to cover their faves from the classic rock canon. A party ensues.

18. Kid Cudi - Man on the Moon II
See #3, add coke and weed. And badass guitars.

19. The National - High Violet
A dirge for the married man. And possibly for zombies

20. Free Energy - S/T
These Twin City kids, they sure do like their classic rock. These cats got their Thin Lizzy swag on. The album cover (a fucking Chuck with bubblegum stuck to the heel) sums up this album perfectly.

SINGLES OF 2010:
1. Dance Yrself Clean - LCD Soundsystem
At nearly 9 minutes, the song is too short. In all actuality, Dance Yrself Clean is like two or three mini epics smashed into one spastic package. Perfect dance music for the supposed end times.

2. Touchless - The Hold Steady
A B-Side monster that rocks

3. Teenage Dream - Katy Perry
Dumb bubblegum that feels like summer. A damn near perfect pop single.

4. Who Makes Your Money - Spoon
The closest Spoon has been to having an actual heart and soul since Kill The Moonlight.

5. Only Girl in the World - Rihanna
All Euro Bangers should have a sexy Island Girl singing about letting you come inside

6. Monster - Kanye West
This bitch lives up to its name. Rookie of the Year goes to Nikki Minaj for THAT verse, where she bodies just about every other guest MC since Busta on Scenario.

7. Animal - Neon Trees
These new wave poseurs are so stupid they named their next single "1983". Well, no fucking DUH! We get it, still loves ya though.

8. Fuck You - Cee Lo Green
It's getting to the point where it seems Cee Lo can pull classic pop singles out his ass whenever he feels the need. Here's hoping that he can keep his focus and that he WANTS it as much as we do.

9. Bed Intruder Song - Antoine Dodson
Oh yes, sometimes the greatest art is designed to be thrown out after a few uses.

10. Lover, Lover - Jerrod Niemann
Redneck lovaman who calls his backing band the Hung Jury decides to cover a pop song by Sonia Dada that is probably only remembered fondly by me. Some sort of Nashville country pop soul gris gris is created, and magic happens.

11. Nothing on You - B.o.B
This song smells like Spring.

12. In My Head - Jason Derulo
Bonus points for the video, where JA-SON DERULO! hangs out outside a Circle K. Bill S Preston, Esq would be really proud.

13. Tenderoni - Kele
Unfortuantely not a reconceptualization of "Roni" by Bobby Brown. Fortunately, some sweet ass dance pop.

14. Right On - The Roots
If a rap song could sound like a lost late 80s alt rock joint, it would be this.

15. Giving Up The Gun - Vampire Weekend
This is pop, this is not world music, this is not rock. This is straight up pop.

16. Erase Me - Kid Cudi/Kanye West
The best power ballad since 1988...no joke!

17. Apartment Wrestling - Maximum Balloon/David Byrne
Oh fuck, what I wouldn't give to be introduced to whatever Apartment Wrestling is.

18. Tighter - Fitz and The Tantrums
Oh fuck, what I wouldn't give to feel like Fitz does for the chick in this song.

19. Half of My Heart - John Mayer
Oh fuck, what I wouldn't give to not love this song as much as I do. Supremely crafted and meant to stick like peanut butter.

20. Brave Man's Death - J Roddy Walston And The Business
Somehow cinematic...I don't know if that was the intention, but it feels like a mini-movie.

21. Radioactive - Kings of Leon
The highlight of a disappointing album. When the U2 comparisons are focused on the good things U2 did, not the pretentious bullshit, I hope they are talking about songs like this.

22. Baby Lee - Teenage Fanclub
You guys! Welcome back...somewhere, Alex Chilton is spinning this record and smiling.

23. Stay Lucky - Gaslight Anthem
The Gaslight Anthem just...feels...right.

24. Bed Rock - Young Money
Only for the line "Call me Mister Flintsone".

25. Fallin' For You - Colbie Callait
Female Jack Johnson stops thinking about her fucking toes, crafts delicious summer song about boys and girls in love.

In Defense of Rex Ryan

Over the last two days, there has been a lot of talk about YouTube videos of a "mature" lady out of Maryland who goes by the (awesome) name of Ihaveprettyfeet. The only reason that folks are jabbering is that Ms. Feet may be the wife of New York Football Jets coach Rex Ryan. And that Ryan may have took the videos.

And this is fucking awesome.

You see, too often in life we are bombarded with scandal and who is screwing who drama when it comes to our celebs. There is no drama here, just a tubby sonofabitch who likes to videotape his wife's feet and possibly swing with her as well. Nothing is wrong with this, except for the fact that the media is making it a story.

Look, we all have our kinks. If Rex Ryan wants to videotape his wife's feet and delve into a little cuckholding, what does it matter? Is it going to effect his coaching? Probably not. Last time I checked, wanting to view all three of your wife's holes filled does not correlate with planning a game strategy against the Pats or the freaking Bills.

So let us reserve our scorn and disdain for those who really deserve it. People like the shady ass North Koreans, Congress, and the insanity of the Mexican judicial system. Leave poor Rexy and his awesome three way havin', foot suckin' fat ass alone.

Birfday Drunk. Birfday Drunk

Snowmageddeon III fucked my birthday plans in the arse, hard, and without a breath mint or a cuddle afterward. Due to being all dressed up with nowhere to go, I drank. Heavily, and a variety of different booze. Here's a rundown of my birthday merriment:

-Watched the Fuse Top 40 videos of 2K10 countdown. This was hosted by some fine little German-Mexican hybrid and a jackbooted dominatrix. The top 2 were Ok Go and Eminem. I liked Fuse much better when it was MuchMusic, and I liked music much better when it was 1995.

-Ordered a bacon explosion pizza from Papa John's. Yep, I made a delivery guy drive that shit out during Snowmageddon. It was sinful, greasy, and tasted like what I assume going down on Miss Piggy would be like. In short, heaven.

-Went up to the Pixie Liq and bought cans of Four Loko and a four pack of Surly. Basically, I was going as classy and as methed out as possible. After drinking the Four Loko I called my mother because I thought I was having a heart attack. This feeling passed. What did I do to celebrate, you ask? I drank another Four Loko my sadistic brother bought me as a "birthday present"

-I ate a fruit pizza.

-Watched biographies on Pro Wrestling, David Bowie, Fleetwood Mac, and Blondie. By the Bowie one I guess I blacked out. Supposedly, I said Bowie invented 80s pop music (true), that I have seen Debbie Harry pantsless (also true), and that Fleetwood Mac Rumours was one of the five best albums ever (not true).

-Came to out of the blackout and made a drunk Facebook invite for my birthday remix this Saturday. Entitled it "Fuck Da Snow" and invited a shit load of people I somehow forgot while making it sober last time. I blame my non-passout on the crack like powers of the Four Loko. That shit it bad, y'all.

So overall, I give the birthday a B- for fun, but an A+ for drunkenness. And I probably will never fucks with the Loko again. Let the winos and frat boys have it, I say.

Random Shuffle Cut O' The Day

Sometimes the magical little box known as the iPod spits out an unknown pleasure by even bands you thought you knew. Recently I stumbled upon this little beatuy:



Yep, Wheatus. Of "Teenage Dirtbag" fame. Off their third album (which I bought about five years ago but never familiarized myself with). Ignore the abosolute shittiness of the video and the fact that there is like two minutes of nothing after the song ends. Bathe in the MOOG-ness, the crunchy guitar, the whiny vocals.

I still can't decide what era this song belongs to. I have narrowed it down to late 80s alt-rock (think Transvision Vamp or some other crunchy Britpop) or early New Wave (the Cars would have owned this joint). Maybe, just maybe, it's timeless?

Record Show Journal 12/4/10

Magic ouccured again today at the Uptown VFW for the quarterly Twin Cities record show. There is nothing more magical than the smell of musty records, bearded hipsters, hot dogs, farts and dirty military jackets. It is a stew for the sense of smell, I tells ya. Well, actually, the sense of smell may be a little envious of the sense of sight due to all the old Starter jackets and skinny jeans on the premesis...

Anyways, the record show always provides its fair share of interesting convos to eaves drop on. Being the creep that I am, I induldged again today with reckless abandon. The highlights were as follows:

-40 something dude talking to sexy(ish) hipster chick about how 78 RPM records are the new hot thing. I guess I could have entered a time warp to 1918, but that still wouldn't explain why Elvis Costello would be recording two exclusive songs on 78. Because, you know, Elvis Costello was about -30 in 1918.

-The same 40 something pimping his tape review blog to the hipster chick, THEN pimping his tape only record label by bringing over another disheveled 40 something that was his prized signing on the label. (NOTE TO DESPERATE SINGLE LADIES: If you are looking for any sort of attention, a record show is a great place to get it). Obviously this guy is onto something with the antiquated tech being "the next big thing". I wonder if he is going to release some films on 8MM anytime soon? Maybe a LaserDisc of the new Tron movie? God, I can only hope and pray.

-Two fat old bearded dudes arguing about how Obama sucks and "if the Republicans were in charge, none of this shit would have happened." Sadly, I never got to hear just what the "shit" was. I assume it was probably involving the blacks, the queers, and/or the abortionists though.

The Republican arguement was really interesting, because I always assumed that people digging through crates of old albums were pretty liberal. But I guess that the record show is the ultimate showing of survival-of-the-fittest capitalism along with a perfect example of selling to a captive audience. For example, I could look on eBay for a Carole King record and probably get it for fiddy cent. But at a record show, I have to pay like 3 bucks for a shitty copy of Tapestry (Please note: I own this record and would have never payed more than a buck for it. Even though it's fucking rad). I would have no other option but to fork over my money to the dude who looks like a cross between Santa Claus and a Lot Lizard raping truck driver if I want to hear "It's Too Late".

Plus, the old lady who runs the enterance and collects the $2 enterance fee is totally a Tea Party member. Totally.

Here were my finds for the day:
Lou Reed - Coney Island Baby
Dexys Midnight Runners - Searching For the Young Soul Rebels
Gary Numan - Telekon
The Blues Project - Projections
Willie Hutch - Havin' A House Party (winner of best album cover of the day, due to sexy chicks in halter dresses, a living room designed to do coke in, and the old cat with the cotton colored balding afro and sideburns combo in the background)

Total spent: $19
There you have it, records really ARE your best entertainment value.

What This Guy is Thankful For (2010 Edition)

Ah, Thanksgiving...the time of year where most stuff themselves with turkey and other random delicious crap. Oh yeah, and it's also the time of year where thanks are given.

I've always been a little confused about this part. Are those thanks supposed to be given in a public setting, i.e. the dinner itself? Or are they supposed to be a private matter, like counting your blessings or praying to the Baby Jesus? If option "A" is the correct choice, I've failed the Turkey God miserably. I have never given thanks in person to anyone, or to any THING on the day itself.

So to hedge my bets, I'm just going to blog the shit out of what I am thankful for this year. Hopefully, those closest to me (I'm looking at you, my immediate family, my ladyfriend, and my circle of friends who puts up with my drunken, rambling, inane ass on a daily-to-weekly basis) understand that I am eternally grateful for them being here in my life. Seeing as how they are the most important and they know it, I am going to spend the rest of the blog focusing on some of my lesser thankfuls for the year. And awaaaaaay we go...

What I am thankful for this year:

Coffee
Yep, pretty sure I couldn't get by without you. You are my raven-colored (and sometimes creamy mocha-colored) mistress, friend and mother. Thanks for being there every morning in all of your guises.

The MLB Network
As a tubby little boy growing up in Brooklyn Park, I often prayed for a channel that showed baseball highlights all the time, along with old games and the occasional re-airing of the Ken Burns documentary Baseball. When I got older and more jaded I thought that prayers often go unanswered. The MLB Network proves this wrong.

Half Price Books
More specifically, the clearance LP and CD sections at these stores. Where else could I have been opened up to many kinds of music that I thought I never would listen to? Five years ago, I never would have thought I would even listen to the likes of Fleetwood Mac or Cat Stevens. Now I realize that they are glorious mom-jean rock.

Surly Beer
I am thankful for Surly for murdering my love of Miller Light and other shitty lawnmower beers. Except for PBR. I totally fucks with PBR still.

My New found Love of Cooking
Well, I should say it's not so much "cooking" as it is "not eating takeout/fast food all the goddamn time". As one who embraces trash culture at every turn, I thought my life would consist of me solely eating Taco Bell and SuperAmerica hot dogs for eternity. In the last couple of months I have come to the realization that making a salad and a tortilla rollup leaves you feeling much less degraded than a Whopper or a Chalupa would.

Shitty 80s Pop Music
Shitty 80s pop music got me through the Summer of My Discontent. Special thanks to it's sexier cousin, Shitty 80s New Wave, for still being there for me in much happier times.

NBA Jam for the XBOX 360
Even though I haven't played this yet, I am sure it's going to kick ass. I mean, you can play as Bill Clinton, Len Bias, Larry Bird and (probably) the Phoenix Gorilla. What's not to like? Thank you for letting me revert into 12 year old Jake, sans the business mullet and the Notre Dame sweatshirt.

Katy Perry's Rack/Tunes
Strangely, I find both her bazooms and her music compelling at about the same level. I'm not sure what that says about me as a man, but I don't fucking care. I am just glad those sweater kittens are there, along with her sappy pop confections from the gods.

Well, there you have it. I guess you could say that at this point in 2K10 I am living a Teenage Dream, much like Miss Perry. But with a much less fantastic rack...

Chili-Wacked

I have mixed feelings on the Purple firing Brad Childress. On one hand, he was a totally overmatched coach who had no idea how to run an offense or modivate his players. For reals, he was like a 16 year old getting an Aston Martin as his first car instead of a Ford Tempo. He just looked confused about how to operate the damn thing and then ended up crashing it into a telephone pole.

On the other hand, Chilly provided so much material. He looked like one of two things most days. Depending on the day he looked like either a sex offender or the star of 90's sitcom Major Dad, Gearld McRaney. The sex offender days were when he wore a black Vikings sweatshirt like my dad wears to bum around the house, and the Major Dad days were when the Vikings were getting plowed like Jill Kelly. Plus, his play calling thing looked like a Denny's menu, which provided at least 10 "Run 86 red right and get me a Super Bird" jokes. Per game.

At this point I am so damn numb from the farce that this Purple season has become I really can't feel a thing. I think anyone could coach this team better than Chilly, but I really don't care right now. I sort of hope Fav-ray retires and they throw T-Jack to the wolves to see if he can cut the mustard as a starter. And hopefully if they do, they can run 78-Trips-Left Moons over My Hammy a few times.

Here is a song to get through the Purple Malasie:



Hear that? It's the happy sound of seeing your chick with another dude. Oh, who the fuck cares? Do you hear fucking how joyous this is? I mean, with whistling, hand claps, and a freaking live audience who needs that two timing ho? Big ups to Cat Stevens for writing this and the Tremeloes for playing it.

Purple Pride?

I watched most of the Purple game today (up until Fav-ray's dumbass fucking pick #2). Then, subconsciously, I played this song on my iPod. It pretty much sums up my feelings on this lost fucking season...



Yep, I went from crying like I just got dumped after the NFC Championship game last year to summing up my crushed hopes and dreams with a Chicago (3rd incarnation) #1 hit. Look Away indeed, guy who is not Peter Cetera or Terry Kath.

Drinkin' Alone

For the last week, I have been out of commission with a case of strep/tonsillitis. Due to this aliment, I missed stuff. This is extremely disappointing due to the fact that sickness caused me to a) miss one of my closest friends birthdays b) miss out on a karaoke night and c) caused my girlfriend to quarantine me. Above all this, sickness caused me to not drink.

So tonight, after feeling 95% of Jake-tastic, I decided to get loose with my old friend Windsor and his life partner Diet Coke (yes, I assume Diet Coke is gay). Here is a rundown

- Went on Amazon.com and bought one XBOX game (Mass Effect) and one New Wave compilation CD (The Rhino released ones, this one with "Wouldn't It Be Good" by Nik Kershaw). Grand total: $17.80.

-Watched the new South Park. Thought the Shake Weight coming on Stan's wife's face was pretty funny, and also enjoyed the take on food porn.

-Signed up for mint.com. Was shocked that I only spent $14 bucks on booze this month. Vowed to triple this output by December 1st.

-Followed the Wolves game on my phone because David Kahn is a vampire crossed with a meerkat who is killing my joy by not televising a goddamn Wolves game even though Kevin Love is a beast this season and Beasley dropped 30 AGAIN tonight! (Rant over).

-Enjoyed a Kennedy Assassination documentary on History International that claimed Kennedy was shot by Oswald alone. Yelled "bullshit" alone in my room at my stolen TV.

-Made a Facebook invite for my 28th birthday. Realized its a direct facsimile of my 27th birthday, except at a bar 8 blocks away. Came away satisfied nonetheless.

-Did a load of laundry. Probably mixed whites and coloreds.

-Bumped "Angelia" by Richard Marx. Twice. This confirmed perviously held sober beliefs that Richard Marx is extremely underrated.

-Received three bootleg Pearl Jam CDs from a courier (my landlady/future sister-in-law)which she received from Sir Rich Abraham at a chocolate party. Googled lyrics to songs I have never heard so I could put them on my flawless iPod.

The biggest realization out of all of this was that I get more done while drinking than when I am sober. The only conclusion that can be drawn is that I need to drink alone a whole lot fucking more.

The Tao of Kenny Rogers

Half Price Books holds many books in its hallowed walls. I am sure somewhere in its musty, lusty confines it even has a bible. But what was found there today trumps all these books. Strangely, it wasn't even a book. It was an audio document of how to be a man, nay, be THE MAN.

This meisterarbeit was called "Kenny Rogers 20 Greatest Hits".

Now before you get all highfalutin hipster on me and say "Kenny Rogers fucking sucks," let me tell you why Mister Rogers songs are a template on how to live a richer, fuller life. I am going to limit the Tao of Kenny to ten lessons, but there are more. Take this as a beginners guide to the Bearded Chicken Slinging Gideon.

1) Don't fall in love with a dreamer. Cause he'll break you every time (from Don't Fall In Love With a Dreamer)
Pretty self explanatory. Level headed or crazy partners are the best. Because dreamers are unrealistic and will break the fuck out of your stride.

2) If a crazy hot chick is at the bar and takes off her wedding ring, go drink whiskey with her (from Lucille)
Bonus points if the chick's husband comes in and bitches about how she left at an inopportune time (say when there are four hungry kids and crops going to shit). You then do what Kenny did and dismiss this guy as a pussy and take the broad to a no tell motel to totally do some nasty cougar hucklebuck. And probably steal her Pall Malls afterwards.

3) Never let a 16 year old Ginger stripper dominate your life (from Scarlett Fever)
Sure, we all like going to strip clubs called the Lucky Star and falling for girls who claim they are older than they are. But we never let them be a proxy for are lifelong dreams. Cause one day they are going to chase their own dreams without you, and you will be left a lonely, broken shell of a man. Possibly with a deadly fever.

4) Drink cheap booze, because it somehow is sweeter than the top shelf shit (from Life or Something Like It)
According to Kenny the cheaper wine is somehow sweeter than the good stuff. Although he may be referring to the woman who is trashy and who is accompanying him to a no tell motel (Again with the cheap motels Kenny? Do you not have a Holiday Inn in your magic town?). This advice loses some credence though because it is set to a beat that vaguely recalls "Margaritaville".

5) If your girlfriend is sexually assaulted, beat the shit out of the perpetrators. Even if your dead daddy told you not to (from Coward of the County)
Kenny knows that fighting is wrong. Mainly because his dad died in prison for fighting. But sometimes not fighting gets you called a pussy. And it makes marauding bands of Brothers Gatlin feel the need to pull a rape train on your girlfriend. Even though your daddy may have made you promise on his deathbed not to fight, sometimes you have to go to the local bar (where the Gatlin's gather, natch), lock the door, and fuck those Crackers up while the other patrons watch. That will show em who's a coward. And it will show great Dalton-in-Road House-like restraint. Because any other man would kill those raping bastards.

6) When crippled in the war, don't trust broads named Ruby. Because they will totally fuck other dudes (from Ruby, Don't Take Your Love To Town)
Make sure you know who is loyal to you. Because sometimes shit happens. Like getting paralyzed in Vietnam. And when you come back, your lady may want to screw everything and anything with her painted up face because the tackle doesn't work the same. Trust your base instincts and get your shotgun and "put her in the ground" if she can't stay with you for the few months you have left to live. After all, you just need some company.

7) Sing duets with hellafine 80s chicks (see Don't Fall in Love With A Dreamer and We've Got Tonite)
Always pick duet partners who don't fit with you (Sheena Easton's fine Scotch ass? Kim "Bette Davis Eyes" Carnes?). Because its more fun to dance into the unknown sometimes. But don't duet with chicks named Dottie West. Because that just may suck...

8) Let love turn you around and lift you (from Love Will Turn You Around and Love Lifted Me)
Love can truly turn you around. Especially if it is sung as the theme from a movie about Stock Car racing featuring Diane Lane. And love can lift, especially if sung about in a raspy, mannish yet soothing voice.

9) Heed the words of formerly funky ass black dudes (see Lady)
If Lionel Richie comes to you with a song about a lady, you sing the fuck out of that song. Because those in the know know that LR is not only beloved by Islamic men (and may be the key to ending the War on Terr)but also can write a country song better than anyone else (for those doubters, pleeeeeese YouTube "Stuck on You" and "Sail On"). Sometimes, that song may even go to #1 and become your biggest pop hit.

10) Listen to dying men on trains (from The Gambler)
Train trips suck I bet, with all that jostling and staring at cornfields. So if some dude who is wheezing and coughing comes up to you and notices you are out of aces, give him some of your hooch if he asks for it. Because he may impart you with advice such as "you gotta know when to hold em, know when to fold em, know when to walk away and know when to run." This may be the most universal, succinct and brilliant life path ever put down in a pop song.

There you go. Use these ten tips as a starting point, not an endpoint, on discovering the Tao of Kenny. Take it to heart, and LIVE!!! I just may drop in to see what condition your condition is in from time to time...