He Will Be Missed

Earl Root passed away a couple of weeks ago. I didn't know the man but dug his now-defunct record store. And his metal show, "The Root of All Evil", is the best post-barclose radio show around. Every year - generally in the winter - I go through a "Root of All Evil" phase and tune in late Saturday night (actually Sunday morning) with a nightcap or two and get my metal kicks out the riffage and the laughs of the hosts. Hopefully the show will carry on.

Pete Scholtes has a nice recap of Earl's memorial service. RIP, Earl Root.

Encore Love Of Drinking Channel?

Factotum showed up on the Encore Love channel (huh?) Friday night and I caught the last half. I rented this a year or two ago and dug it. Matt Dillon, Lili Taylor, and Marisa Tomei all have solid performances. There ain't much for plot, but between appreciating Dillon (both as actor and reading Bukowski passages as narration) and looking for Twin Cities bars (it was filmed here) it made for good viewing. The movie ends with Dillon reading Bukowski on being a writer:

It could mean derision. It could mean mockery, isolation. Isolation is the gift. All the others are a test of your endurance. Of how much you really want to do it. And you'll do it, despite rejection in the worst odds. And it will be better than anything else you can imagine. If you're going to try, go all the way. There is no other feeling like that. You will be alone with the gods. And the nights will flame with fire. You will ride life straight to perfect laughter. It's the only good fight there is.

But as I looked up those words last night, it dawned on me: Was Bukowski really writing about drinking?

Staples, Not Motley

If you've ever wondered how the process of the FDIC taking over a failing bank works, read this article from the Wall Street Journal about the FDIC taking over a bank in Staples, Minnesota. (It was in the Strib on Friday.) I had never thought about all the secrecy it takes to get dozens of feds into a small town quickly enough to prevent a bank run. Fascinating stuff.

And Thank Goodness These Races Only Take A Few Minutes

I'm not much for watching horse racing, but did check out today's Belmont Stakes. I was sitting in the living room reading and when it came close to race time I turned on the TV. The hype got to me. And hey, it was in HD - horses look real purty in HD. And okay, I had watched the Preakness for identical reasons.

I'm not much into taunting animals, but couldn't resist yelling "overrated!" a few times at Big Brown after the race. Just glad I'm not a gambling man.

RIP To A Founding Father Of Rock 'n' Roll

The New York Times said it best:

Bo Diddley, a singer and guitarist who invented his own name, his own guitars, his own beat and, with a handful of other musical pioneers, rock ’n’ roll itself.

The Real Thing

Finally working on some writing tonight, dunno if the recent creative drought was due to the distraction of all the NBA, NHL, and Twins games on HD (not to mention Cathy Wurzer in HD on Friday night, NOW I see why we need public television in high-definition); the distraction of a nice three-day Memorial Day weekend up north; the distraction of totally loving Nixonland; or just the distraction of sheer laziness. Also, the past few weeks I had been substituting a writer's aid for real writing work ... I had read that the late great Rick Johnson would write phrases and quotes that he liked on index cards and would shuffle through them when writing, looking for the right witty things to insert into his writing. I did a variation, writing words of advice, outlines, reminders, and summaries onto index cards and was probably halfway convinced that this was doing "real" writing. But like absorbing music, watching a movie, reading a book, reviewing your old work, etc. it was a help and not doing the real thing. It feels good to get back to the real thing.

Seen The Movie Many Times But Couldn't Remember That His Name Is "Al Czervik"

Chien-Ming Wang is pitching for the Yankees against the Twins tonight. I think his name is pronounced "Wong", but that won't stop me from quoting Caddyshack:

"I hear this place is restricted, Wang, so don't tell 'em you're Jewish, okay?"

Speaking of Caddyshack, I have failed to brag that two years ago it wasn't available via Netflix until I contactedt them and requested it. You're welcome.

Go Lakers

Phil Jackson, formerly of the University of North Dakota, deserves yet another championship. Go Lakers.

I have never liked the Celtics.

I Heart Renting


Steve Almond in Salon.com about home ownership:

How vastly overrated and costly and crazy-making an enterprise it turns out to be.

and

I was assured by the panting chorus of fellow homeowners who take it upon themselves to advise you in such situations, real estate never-ever-gabever goes down, so I wasn't even spending my money, I was just "investing" it.

and

These things it calls to mind those reality TV shows whose central myth of transformation centers on the home. "Extreme Makeover: Home Edition," "Trading Spaces," "Flip This House" and so on. These programs are the new pornography of the landed middle class, and they are, in their own way, as cruel as the old pornography. Just as the libidinal 13-year-old will someday discover that not all naked women look like Playboy centerfolds, so too, the first-time homeowner will have to learn that refurbishing your den, even on national TV, does nothing to heal the cracks in your foundation.

and

But maybe it's time to admit that many Americans are like me: unfit for the privilege. We buy homes we can't afford, we treat them like piggybanks, and often we lack the aptitude or interest required to care for them.

All I can add is this: Last night I waved to my building's caretaker as he mowed the lawn. This morning I saw a tree-maintenance guy throwing some debris in the dumpster. And in about six weeks I'll get my propety tax refund!

I'm Gonna Beat This "Deserves" Routine Into The Ground

I'm cheering for the Detroit Pistons to beat the Boston Celtics: Flip Saunders deserves a championship. So does Rasheed Wallace, who already has one but deserves another just for his great facial expressions.

In related basketball stuff - on the Strib's opinion page today an annoying and pretentious Celtics/Garnett fan compared Kevin Garnett to Philip Roth and Mark Twain:

I used to read his remarks in the Star Tribune as happily as I read Mark Twain or Philip Roth: for the brilliance, the subtle self-knowledge and, yes, the humor.

Humor? Repeatedly? I admit the number of the Strib's Timberwolves stories I have read probably exactly matches how many playoff games they played in 2004, but no way was Garnett consistently humorous.

Sure, pro athletes can sometimes come up with a great line - I'm thinking of Patrick Roy's comment about Jeremy Roenick's mouthing off (couldn't hear him because he had two Stanley Cup rings plugging his ears.) I also remember the Broncos beating the Purple in Metrodome in the mid-nineties on a last second play. I don't remember the exact circumstances, but I believe a John Elway pass bounced off of somebody's helmet and Ed McCaffrey hauled it in the end zone for the winning TD. After the game, McCaffrey deadpanned that the play had been planned all along. (Randy, chime in if you remember this play. You called me right after the game laughing about McCaffrey's interview.)

But for the most part, pro atheletes generally just spit out the same old platitudes about "giving 110 percent" and "individual accomplishments don't matter to me." When they try to be funny ... well, you know what "locker room humor" is, right? The truth is that there have only been two genuinely funny - funny enough to be mentioned in the same sentence as Mark Twain - professional atheletes in my lifetime: Muhammad Ali and Charles Barkley.

This Guy Is Hilarious In All Roles ... Not
(couldn't resist)

I've been seeing the trailers for The Love Guru for what seems like months now. Undoubtably, it will turn out to be a yawner of a non-funny movie - similarly boring and repetitive to that Austin Powers movie I tried watching once. (And that was only ten minutes' worth.)

Mike Myers is only fit to play one role, ever: Wayne Campbell. This was true on Saturday Night Live, it's true to this day.

I'll Take (A) Manhattan

I had never had a Manhattan before, so tonight I mixed one up at my bar. I used rye, the orginal whiskey used in this cocktail. I don't have sweet vermouth on hand, so I used all dry vermouth instead and hence made a Dry Manhattan. Verdict? It's dry, though the rye flavor stands out nicely. (Oh bourbon, you used to be such a steady friend. Now you're "that whiskey that's much preferable to Canadian but not what I want either.")

Oh, and I used an old fashioned glass instead of a cocktail glass (acceptable, at least according to Wikipedia.) I need to get some sweet vermouth and see how a true Manhattan tastes.

As for now it's on to a rye and ginger (always get your mixers before heading up north, I learned this the hard way over this past long weekend ... though drinking rye on the rocks with a splash of water wasn't exactly toughing it) and cracking open Nixonland, which I just got from the library today.

The Top 30 Rock Books I Own: #10 Paperback Writer

Title: Paperback Writer
Author: Mark Shipper
Year Originally Published: 1977
Edition I Own: First Ace Printing, 1980

What They Say: 1) The Village Voice (Greil Marcus): "The finest novel ever written about rock and roll." 2) San Francisco Chronicle (Joel Selvin): "Devastatingly funny."

Tuomala's Attempt At A Take: I bought this last year used via Amazon.com. Like the Rutles movie that came out around the same time, it's funny at times but didn't really have much humor that stuck with me. Except for the likes of this concert flyer which cracks me up if I even think about it. The photo link is from the rockcritics.com site, which has a fine discussion between Scott Woods and Richard Riegel about the book.

"They Smile In Your Face ..."

Last night while watching season three of Homicide, I practically lept from my seat and then yelled: "He stabbed Pembleton in the back!!"

A couple of weeks ago, I speculated that this might happen: "If Pembleton's fate is anything like mine, he'll be lied to and stabbed in the back by management." What I saw last night was the Homicide version of what happened to me about fifteen years ago:

One time I went to a propaganda gathering and while I was sucking on an imported brew and yukking it up with a fellow coworker about The Simpsons, my boss came up and made it a point to tell me that I had put a wrong number on some report and that the big shots had quizzed him intensely on it in a meeting that morning. I reminded him that he had told me last week over the phone to change that number to the one I used. He emphatically denied this, and funny - he brought the whole issue up while HIS BOSS was standing right by us, making sure I would be implicated in the fuckup.

This is really quite eerie to me, with the similarity of both Frank and I having a superior lie to his superior about us right in front of us.

Reusse Strikes Again

Patrick Reusse writes that Mike Guentzel (some Gopher fan friends of mine call him "Intensezel") was forced out of his assistant coach job and did not resign, as was previously reported. Excerpts:

A number of upperclassmen on this winter's team had tired of Lucia's haranguing. Guentzel was the coach on this staff with a positive personality and served as the Good Cop with the players.

Guentzel brought feedback from the players to Lucia, and The Don didn't like it when that feedback included criticism of him.

and:

The dilemma for Lucia is this: If Osiecki (Mark Osiecki, a former Badger player) replaced Guentzel, that would give the coach a full-time staff with no Gophers, which doesn't exactly fit the Pride on Ice model.

That last possibility is a curious one. Though Gopher loyalists could argue that Lucia has won two national titles and Guentzel was a holdover from the Woog regime. They could also point out that Lucia did not attend Minnesota, but would probably avoid doing so. Anyway, I just want to share my one good Guentzel story. It was during the Woog years and a second game loss in a series against the Badgers turned ugly. Nasty scuffles broke out in the third period and when the final buzzer finally sounded, Woog and the Gophers were headed off the ice to the locker room and were ignoring the customary series-ending handshake. Suddenly on TV I saw Guentzel on the ice at the Gopher bench yelling at his players: "Get out there! Get out there and shake hands!!" And the Gophers skated over to shake hands with the Badgers.