The Daily Procrastinator

Important News! Mötley Crüe is releasing their Greatest Hits album on November 17, 2009.    Greatness!

Well, at least if you don’t already have:

One

Decade of Decadence,

Two

Greatest Hits,

Three

Supersonic & Demonic Relics,

Four

The Millennium Collection,

Five, Six

Red, White & Crüe (2-disc set),

Seven, Eight

Music to Crash Your Car To (Volumes 1 and 2), or

Nine, Ten, and Eleven

Loud as F@*k (3-disc set).

Jesus.  Did Gene Simmons die and take over the body of Nikki Sixx or something?

You know what we’re talking about: you can’t resist them, yet part of you cringes at the badness of it all. I want your Top 5, kids.

Mine include:

• Pepperoni pizza. Unlike my general high standards for pizza, I will eat any crappy pizza if it’s topped with pepperoni. It makes no sense at all.
• Rice Krispy treats. I suppose they’re probably not so bad in moderation, but I’ve never eaten them in moderation.
• Milkshakes, but only if they’re the massive black-and-white shakes from Nifty Fifty’s in Philly.
• Tastykakes. Yes, I’m from Philly, what do you expect?
• Funnel cakes. My favorite part of any fair or festival is the funnel cake cart. Dough cooked in oil and covered with powdered sugar? Pure genius for the carb obsessed.

Flashcap here. I’ve got plenty of guilty pleasure foods, but my top five are:

• McDonald’s Double Quarter Pounder w/cheese. Yeah, yeah, Super Size Me and all that, but I can’t help it. The greasy burger beckons me every time I pull into the drive-thru. I swear I hear my arteries cursing me when I’m swallowing it down. Luckily I run long distances.
• Cheetos. Bags of the crunchy orange temptations don’t stay in the house long at all.
• Chili dogs. Even more than those Royales w/cheese, I’ll eat the hell out of chili dogs. Sadly, there’s no Wienerschnitzel close to where I live or work, so Sonic chili dogs are the quickest ones available, but not quite the same thing.
• Pepperoni rolls. We have a pizza place here in Texas called DoubleDave’s where they roll pepperoni and cheese up in twists of dough and bake them. Add either ranch or marinara dipping sauce and I’m bound to eat 10 of them in one sitting. Beware of any imitations.
• Peanut M&Ms. I’m like a vacuum when it comes to those things. I can’t stop eating them when they’re in front of me. Hey, the peanuts are lowering my cholesterol, right?

So…you want to know about BigRedPoet’s top 5 guilty pleasure foods, huh? I’m going to need a minute to whittle down my preliminary list of 462…

• Ultimate Bacon Cheeseburger from Jack In The Box. There’s no two ways about it; this is the best (worst?) hamburger available in the fast food world. Sure, you can FEEL yourself getting fatter while you eat it, but sometimes a ration of fat is worth a ration of awesome.
• Crunchwrap Supreme from Taco Bell. Oh my God. Who invented this? I want to give him/her a big sloppy kiss. This thing consists of a huge tortilla, beans, taco meat, a crispy tostada chip, lettuce, tomato, shredded cheese, melted nacho cheese, and sour cream, all wrapped up and cooked in a quesadilla press. Wow.
• Summer Sausage, Cheese, and Crackers. My inability to resist this particular snack is a vestige of being raised in the midwest, I think. Sure, my fellow southerners like summer sausage, but I don’t believe they understand my deep and abiding love for this fatty snack.
• Peanut Butter Kisses from the Mary Jane Company. I love these things. I can literally sit and eat them until my abdomen aches and my noggin rings with a sugar headache. At that point, I begin to think, “Maybe I should only eat 11 or 12 more.”
• Golden Corral. Go ahead. Click the link, then read the menu. I’ll wait… Now, tell me this: Who wouldn’t want to eat about three great big plates off that buffet? I only allow myself to go to Golden Corral once or twice a year, but when I do, it’s serious business.

Juggernaut’s turn, although I take issue with this whole “guilt” thing. I don’t feel guilty about what I eat. As a matter of fact, I don’t feel guilty about much of anything. Must be part and parcel of doing no wrong. [insert retching sounds from the others here at the DP] Anyway, here’s my list of foods that will likely kill me:

• Like BRP, I’m going with JITB’s Ultimate Bacon Cheeseburger. If at the time of my order I feel like adding a few more minutes on the end of my life, I’ll drop the bacon.
• I can honestly say that I have never had pizza that I didn’t like. Chuck E. Cheese’s version comes the closest, but I’ll eat it if I’m dragged to some 6-year-old’s birthday party. But my favorite pizza (at least chain-wise) is Pizza Hut’s Deep Dish Meat Lovers. Pepperoni, Italian sausage, ham, bacon and beef. God, I want some pizza. Whose bright idea was it to ask me for this at lunch? I’m blaming TallGirl.
• Twizzlers. Anytime I go to a movie, I have a large Mr. Pibb and a big bag of Twizzlers. It’s my routine. There are those out there who do not like licorice. I say they have no taste and should not bother expressing opinions on candy.
• Blue Bell Peppermint ice cream. I love any peppermint ice cream, but Blue Bell wins out because 1) it’s Blue Bell and 2) Blue Bell is made in Texas. Unfortunately, peppermint is considered a “seasonal” flavor and is only out around Christmas time. Damn Blue Bell.
• Last but not least, easy-made nachos at home. I take a big pile of Tostitos and dump an obscene amount of shredded cheddar on them, then nuke it for 40 seconds (yes, I have the time down). Pour a cup of salsa over the top and you have a great late night snack.

Magnus here. Nothing like peer pressure to make me actually write instead of maintaining my site and WORK. You know, to pay the bills? But here we go.

• Taco Bell #3. With mild sauce. (And two soft steak tacos. But don’t tell.)
• Swedish Chocolate. Mmm . . . Marabou.
• Herring. Pickled. With mustard sauce.
• Caviar. Kalle’s. On a sandwich. Oh wait, that’s actually good for me. Nevermind.
• Meatballs. With lots of sauce and lingon berries and mashed potatoes. Preferably made by my mom. (Hey Mom? I’m hungry, please send some, huh?)
• Bacon. How we got this far down the list without bacon, I don’t understand. It’s a major food group, people!

FlashCap and Juggernaut are identical twins. This does not mean, however, that they are exactly alike. What follows is an online conversation between the two brothers that, had they been in the same room at the time it was occurring, probably would have devolved into a fistfight. Thank God for the internet.

Message Board Thread: “Your POS Politician of the Week”

Juggernaut: Stay classy, Van Jones:

***

FlashCap: Geez, sounded like a joke to me. And that he’s playing to a largely Democratic crowd. I’m sure NOTHING like this has EVER happened at a Republican meeting.

/this was not your best one, J.

***

J: Wrong.

J provides link to Van Jones’ apology

***

FC: Oh, bullshit. Here’s his very next line:

“Well, the answer to that is, they’re assholes,” Jones said, to uproarious laughter. “That’s a technical, political science term.”

It’s a joke. And plenty of people beyond politicians have been forced to apologize for jokes. Come on, J, get real.

***

J: Noticeably absent from his apology were the words, “It was a bad joke.” Or “It was a poor attempt at humor.” Or any other explanation that supports your belief that this was a joke. To this end, I’d be more willing to take it as a “joke” if he had said, “but so are most everybody in DC” or “and the Democrats ain’t much better.” But no: he limited to Republicans, using the term as an insult, then defined himself as an asshole as if it were some kind of badge of honor (but of course, Obama isn’t).

Without having this devolve into one of our patented online fights, you have got to understand that there are people on the far left that believe this. They’re radicals. They’re lifers. They’ve drunk the kool-aid. And they are part of the problem. And this guy is one of them. Do you know anything about this guy?

Of course there are people on the other wing that are equally as nasty/classless (Ann Coulter, anyone? Or is she just joking?). And I’ll call them out if I notice them. But this guy made the list as a POS for the comment.

***

FC: But he did call himself an asshole, in the exact same way as he used it to describe Republicans, so by your logic he’s got an extreme problem with self-loathing. I don’t buy it.

***

J: Did you even read my post?

***

FC: Yes, and I obviously don’t agree with you. I think that’s obvious with my post, isn’t it?

***

J: The only thing obvious is that you’re being an apologist for this guy. And you have not responded to anything in my last post except to make something up about his mental state.

***

FC: J, the guy said “I can be an asshole, too.” In my experience, people who refer to themselves as assholes are saying they can be obstinate and unwilling to compromise. Guess how this guy feels some Republicans are being? He appropriates the same term he used for Republicans and uses it on himself.

He said something that got laughs – he then said that “asshole” is the “technical, political science term” for it. Another joke. More laughs. He then calls himself an asshole. More laughs.

Hey, by the way, when did you call out Bush for his “rudeness” here? Or are you gonna be an apologist for Bush? I’m thinking I remember everyone (family; friends) laughing about it – including me.

FC provides link to Bush calling a reporter an asshole.

***

FC: And here’s Bush’s comments about it:

President Bush was subsequently criticized both for the remark itself and for the way the fallout from it was handled. When his aides were questioned about the “asshole” comment, rather than offering the candidate’s apologies for what he had said, they instead defended the remark, attributing it to justifiable ire over particular items Clymer had written about Bush’s career as Governor of Texas. “There’s been a series of articles [by Clymer] that the governor has felt have been very unfair,” said Bush’s communications director, Karen Hughes.

When directly asked about his remark, Mr. Bush responded, “I regret that a private comment I made to the vice-presidential candidate made it into the public airwaves,” which was not an apology. When pressed as to whether he would apologize, he replied, “I was making a comment to . . . Cheney. I didn’t realize, obviously, the mikes were going to pick it up.”

Not even an apology for using the term. Stay classy, President Bush.

***

J: If you can’t see or acknowledge the difference between these two scenarios, you are either blind or being willfully obstinate.

***

FC: I have no idea how these two scenarios are different except for the R and D labels, which apparently makes all the difference for you.

***

J: That’s crap and you know it.

Let me point out the two obvious differences since you refuse to acknowledge them:

1) Bush’s comment was directed at a specific individual for specific cause. Are you familiar with Clymer’s articles? Or are you just going on the basis of the use of the word “asshole”?

Meanwhile, Jones’ comment was a categorical characterization of all Republicans because . . . um, because he doesn’t like the fact that Republicans haven’t rolled over to Obama’s agenda? Nice.

2) Bush’s comment was not meant for public broadcast (but shit happens). Jones’ comment was made during a public presentation while being videotaped.

You know I am not a fan of Bush. But I sure as hell can appreciate calling someone an asshole when they wrong you. And surely you can, too.

***

FC: it’s because he’s black, isn’t it?

***

J: LOL

I think it is safe to say that everyone here at the DP is a huge fan of Joss Whedon’s Buffy the Vampire Slayer (you could actually end this sentence after “Whedon.”)   Most of us here watched it during its original run, and several of us own the complete series on DVD (myself included).

Sarah Michelle Gellar . . . Sigh.

What can I say?  Watching a hot girl (SMG, please contact me when you realize Prinze is not worthy of you) kill vampires, demons, and assorted nasties was a weekly treat, and the supporting cast wasn’t too bad either.  (Alyson Hannigan, Charisma Carpenter, Felicia Day: we’re all thinking of you.  And some of us maybe David Boreanaz.  But not me.)

Needless to say, we were all somewhat disappointed when its run ended in 2003, but by that time Joss apparently just had to move on to other things.  So when it ended, where were we to get our fix of such supernatural entertainment?  [See what I did there?]

Three years later, Supernatural debuted.  I have been a fan of the show since it started.  Now that it is about to begin its fifth season (Season Premiere on September 10, mark your calendars), I am prepared to offer an opinion that just might get me kicked off the DP:

Sam and Dean Winchester FTW

Supernatural is better than Buffy.

Yes, I said it.  Even if the leads are two guys as opposed to SMG.

Now I am not going to offer here a detailed analysis of the ways Supernatural is the superior show, but I will state that it fundamentally comes down to one of tone.   While Supernatural has a healthy dose of humor (see, e.g., Season 4′s episode “Horror Movie”),  it takes a far darker view of the underworld, heavens, and humanity.   By comparison, Buffy, as much as we enjoyed it, lapsed into the goofy too often.

I still remember Buffy fondly.  But Supernatural, week in and week out, has shown how a drama dealing with angels, demons, and the pending apocalypse needs a darker edge than that found in Sunnydale.

So many careers owed to the man . . .

An icon of we Procrastinators died on Thursday:  John Hughes, writer/director of many of the most formative movies of our youth, passed away at the entirely-too-young age of 59 as a result of a heart attack.

Hughes’ catalog of films is astounding.  Consider the following streak of the 80s:

“National Lampoon’s Vacation” (1983)

“Sixteen Candles” (1984)

“The Breakfast Club” (1985)

“Weird Science” (1985)

“Ferris Bueller’s Day Off” (1986)

“Planes Trains and Automobiles” (1987)

“The Great Outdoors” (1988) [Hey, I liked the raccoons, dammit.  They killed.]

“Uncle Buck” (1989)

Each is a classic in its own right; not only are they funny as hell, but they had heart.  As a result, each became a staple of our upbringings here at the DP.  Admit it:  you still stop down for the battle between Ferris and Dean Rooney (couldn’t have been him, could it?)

Of course, not all of his stuff are classics (at least in our mind . . . let’s hope it wasn’t him who sold his soul to inflate the grosses on Home Alone).  But we won’t dwell on that or his infliction of young McCauley Caulkin on the movie-going public.   Instead, we here suggest you have your own Hughes marathon this weekend and reminisce about the part of your formative years that just died.

So much for my portion of the “procrastination vacation” or whatever the others here are calling it.

Hmm . . . What should I do now that I've retired? How about a 20-year-old?

On July 4, 2009, Steve McNair, former QB for the Tennessee Titans, was found dead in a Nashville condominium he owned with a buddy of his.   Right off the bat something is off about this:  how many married men do you know that own real estate with their friends?  But I digress.

As you know, it gets worse.  McNair was found in the company of a 20-year-old Dave & Busters waitress,  one Sahel Kazemi.  While the term “friend” is being thrown about by the media, I’ve seen online photos of the two para-sailing together (way to keep it on the “down low”, Steve) and she had been driving a Cadillac Escalade registered in his name.  Again, very subtle, Steve.

Ms. Kazemi was found dead with one gunshot wound to the head.   McNair was found dead with two gunshot wounds to the head and two to the chest.

Two in the head, two in the chest.

Many media reports point towards this being a murder-suicide.  Barring some incredible feat of athletic ability not yet seen on this earth (with the possible exception of Rasputin), it would seem that McNair is the homicide victim in this scenario.  That said, the police have not yet ruled Ms. Kazemi’s death a suicide.

We here at the DP keep coming back to “Two in the head, two in the chest.”

Now, far be it from us to start some wild speculation or wacky conspiracy theory, but one really has to wonder what Mrs. McNair’s opinion (or his sons’ for that matter) on this relationship would be.   I kind of doubt she was understanding.  As a matter of fact, I would be shocked if it were anything other than, “THAT SON OF A BITCH!  THAT SLUT!  I’LL KILL THEM!”  But we can probably assume the police have been checking Mrs. McNair’s alibi at the time of the shootings.

But once again:  “Two in the head, two in the chest.”

If popular media is to be at all trusted (and why shouldn’t it be?), this is the hallmark of a paid hit.  Now, we here at the DP would not be so reckless as to suggest that Mrs.  McNair actually hired a hitman to kill the two, but wouldn’t that be one HELL of a twist to the story?

Let’s face it, almost any “greatest band ever” list ends up with the Beatles. Or Led Zeppelin, depending on what year it is and whether BRP had a say in it. To avoid this, the DP is going to add another adjective to the list, AMERICAN, and count down the top seven American Rock Bands (take that, you limey bastards!).

So here we are: the final 2.  Who will be the DP’s greatest American Rock…Ah, who are we kidding?  You’re not reading this, you’ve already scrolled down to see the results.  So here we go:

#2: Creedence Clearwater Revival

Fogerty was wearing flannel before Pearl Jam made it hip.

The case for: Lynyrd Skynyrd might be the quintessential southern rock band, but that’s only because the guys from CCR hail from San Francisco.  That’s right, the band that brought you swamp rockers like “Born on the Bayou” and “Bad Moon Rising” were actually west coast hippies.  From 1967 to 1972, CCR  ruled the airwaves with hit after hit, not only talking about women with songs like “Susie Q” and “Sweet Hitch-Hiker”, but also making social commentary with rockers like “Fortunate Son.” And you can’t tell me you don’t crank that one whenever you hear it – if you don’t, you can feel free to go back to your Yanni.

A few bullet points underscoring CCR’s No. 2 ranking:

- CCR was at Woodstock, though nobody remembers that because the Grateful Dead played forever, putting everyone to sleep,  and CCR ended up taking the stage at 3 IN THE MORNING.

- “Proud Mary” is CCR’s song, not Tina Turner’s.  Yeah, we said it.

- “Travelin’ Band” was a precursor to practically every other song about a band hitting the road  (e.g., Bob Seger’s “Turn the Page”; Boston’s “Rock and Roll Band”; Slayer’s “Raining Blood”).

The band would later break up due to internal problems between the members, which would influence other rock lead singers to act like jerks (yeah, Axl, I’m looking at you).  John Fogerty has a somewhat successful solo career, though for the longest time he refused to play CCR songs during live shows, leading me to believe that his live shows were HUGE disappointments.  Above all, CCR had RANGE, and produced some of the most memorable rock hits during their time.

But now it’s time for the GREATEST AMERICAN ROCK BAND:

#1:

Balls Out Rock.

Van Halen is THE American Rock Band.  Hedonistic and untamed, Eddie’s wild in-your-face guitar work and David Lee Roth’s showmanship would pave the way for many of the later 80s rock acts (including our #4 Guns N Roses).  Simply put,  without Van Halen, the 80s American rock era doesn’t happen, and then what would Pearl Jam (the DP’s #5) and Nirvana have to react against?  From their eponymous first album, Van Halen declared the rules for rock had changed, and disaffected youth would never be the same.  Look at the track listing for their first: “Runnin’ With the Devil”, “Eruption/You Really Got Me”, “Ain’t Talkin’ ’bout Love”, “I’m the One”, “Jamie’s Cryin”, “Feel Your Love Tonight”.  Hell, it might as well be the soundtrack to the Camaro.

And Van Halen was no one-album wonder.  The cleverly titled Van Halen II would give us “Beautiful Girls” and “Dance the Night Away” and more Eddie and more FUN.  Van Halen epitomized the rock lifestyle and attitude, and never took themselves too seriously, particularly David Lee Roth.  Women and Children First came  next, then later Diver Down (their fourth album, Fair Warning was a weaker effort, although “Unchained” kicks ass).  Then, in 1984, Van Halen gave us their finest album, coincidentally titled 1984.

Try getting this cover approved today.

Practically every friggin’ song was a hit.  If you can’t name at least five of ‘em, you were either born after 1985 or  before 1950.

Then the fallout: different ideas about the group led David Lee Roth to go record some songs that became dated the week after Crazy From the Heat was released, and Eddie, Alex and Michael welcomed in the Red Rocker himself,  Sammy Hagar.  5150 (which produced one of our favorite VH songs, “5150″), OU812 and For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge (subtle!) were all massive commercial successes, and further cemented the fact that Van Halen was and is America’s premiere rock band.*

Of course, all good things must end.  Eddie managed to alienate Sammy who left the band to go manage his bar and continue his solo career while  Michael Anthony was unceremoniously (and unforgivably) bounced from the group for the baby-fat burdened Wolfgang.  But Van Halen is the epitome of what American rock is, and for its music, charisma, and influence on American rock, Van Halen is the DP’s choice for best American Rock Band.

*As much as some of us here at DP admire Gary Cherone/Extreme for their non-”More Than Words” work, we, like the Van Halens themselves, believe VHIII is better left ignored.

Juggernaut [Editor's Note: who will be acting as editor on this post] and I are identical twins – we were born 2 minutes apart [Editor's Note: I'm 2 minutes older] a little over 37 years ago and grew up sharing the same bedroom until we left for separate colleges. (sidenote: our younger brother had his own room, the little bastard. Thanks, Mom and Dad). As twins, we’ve received our fair share of inane questions: “Do you feel it if your brother gets hurt?” (answer: no. Punching myself in my face apparently hurts only me); “Why aren’t your names alliterative?” (answer: because our parents loved us); “You and your brother want to try a threesome?” (answer: actually, we’ve never been asked that before. [Editor's Note: Thank God.] And the answer would be NO – even though Juggernaut’s my brother, that’d STILL be the bad type of threesome).

Beyond the stupid questions, though, I’d still say I’ve enjoyed being a twin, and it’s going to be awfully hard on me when Juggs dies first. I’ll miss him. [Editor's Note: THE ONLY WAY I'M DYING FIRST IS IF YOU KILL ME.] We do have a closer relationship with one another than I think most siblings have (much to our wives’ chagrin), and it’s led to occasional wonderment on the part of our mutual friends when they see us together, which is rare as we live in different cities and Juggernaut seems to think he never has to come visit. [Editor's Note: Unlike some people, demands are made of my time and I don't have summers and every school holiday off.] We do tend to know what we’re going to say or how we’ll react to a given situation. We also have many of the same mannerisms, which is probably to be expected seeing as how we lived in the same room for 18 long years (thanks again, Mom and Dad!). BigRedPoet will tell you that Juggernaut and I are indistinguishable on the phone. BRP once spent a couple minutes talking to Juggernaut thinking he was me as he was driving up to Dallas to meet us for a concert. We don’t intentionally dress alike (in fact, quite the opposite: in school we would go out of our way to make sure we were not wearing similar clothing, which probably accounts for the fact that we rarely fell into the various clothing fads during high school), though one time I returned home from college and walked in the door to find Juggernaut dressed in identical clothing, right down to the brown woven belts we both wore. He immediately changed his shirt. [Editor's Note: Absolutely true story. The family's laughter still rings in my ears.]

The point is that while we’re twins and share the same DNA, we’re different people. [Editor's Note: For example, I outweigh FC by about 40 lbs. I actually spend time in the weight room.] Though just how different is something I wonder about at times, and maybe Juggernaut does, too (psychic link isn’t working right now). [Editor's Note: Not working on his end, apparently.] So I’ve devised a test of a suitably trivial nature in order to satisfy my curiosity about our “connection,” so to speak. Juggernaut and I are going to each individually create a CD containing 20 songs and trade the discs next time we get together. There will be no communication about what songs we’re including, and there will be no list when the discs are traded. There will also be no “rick-rolling.” We each are attempting to give the other a collection of music that we believe the other one will enjoy.

Now, the real question is this: how many of the songs we each select will be the same (if any)? Also, will there be a discernible pattern to the songs in how they’re arranged on the disc? Consider this: both my twin and I have access to over 75,000 songs on our separated-by-150-miles hard drives (b/c a former student loaned me the hard drive of a defunct classic rock station), so it’s not like we’re just selecting music we’ve bought over our lifetimes – we have access to pretty much everything. Also, while both of us are longtime metal heads, we’ve both agreed not to merely give a CD containing 20 Anthrax/Slayer/Metallica/Megadeth songs, no matter how awesome that might be. [Editor's Note: And it WOULD be awesome.]

We’ll each report back once we exchange the discs and have a chance to give some thought as to our selections. [Editor's Note: This sounds suspiciously like a way to force me to write another post.] If nothing else, it should be entertaining to hear what Juggernaut has to say about the songs I’ve selected for him.

Topic proposed by Tallgirl:

Think back to your childhood — and by childhood I’m going to go with anything prior to graduation from high school. What were the events that really had an impact on you?

Mine include:

• My grandfather’s death when I was 7. Even though he’d had a stroke when I was in kindergarten and was largely incapacitated for two years, it never occurred to me that he’d ever die.
• Best friend’s seizures/epilepsy diagnosis when we were 11.
• The wave of “oops” babies that appeared in all of my friends’ families when we were 11-13. It was my first exposure to child development and I remember being fascinated by how they learned and what they learned.
• Opening my SAT scores and sort of collapsing onto the stairs, realizing at 16 that I wasn’t going to have to stay in that town forever. I hadn’t really given it conscious thought up to that point, but I remember the phrase, “this is my ticket out of here” running through my head. Sounds terrible now, doesn’t it?
• My father being hit by a car and having major back injuries when I was 17. It totally changed my perception of my place in the world and made me realize that I had to grow up and take responsibility for things.

BigRedPoet

• My brothers and I played baseball with the neighborhood kids all day every day during the summers. I was one of the biggest kids in the neighborhood, and I could hit pretty much any pitch any kid could throw. By the time I was about 14, I thought I was pretty good. Meanwhile, I knew my dad had pitched city league fastpitch softball when I was a kid. He would toss baseballs to me the back yard, but he never really pitched to me…so I challenged him to come out back and see if he could strike me out. He did. Three times in a row. On the last pitch, he somehow got the ball to break up and in. I was swinging at a pitch that looked like it was right down the middle…and the next moment I was dodging before it hit me in the head. I remember thinking to myself, “Holy shit. He’s good.“
• The same group of kids that played baseball also built a HUGE treefort in the woods behind our neighborhood. I don’t think any of our parents had a hammer or a nail handy for years because we stole every last stinking one. The final product was three stories, including a roof over the top one. It was about thirty feet long and about twelve feet wide. It involved logs, two-by-fours, nails, rope, and just about anything else you can imagine. One fine day, this kid named Lenny shows up. Apparently, he’s a nephew or a grandkid to some family way down at the end of the neighborhood. Eventually , we all end up in the treefort. For reasons known only to him, Lenny climbs out onto the roof and begins doing some sort of ridiculous dance while singing the theme song from the Smurfs cartoon. Suddenly, the roof cracks in two, dumping Lenny right into the top floor of the treefort, where several of us are hanging out. The combined weight of the strange kind and the ceiling causes the top floor crack, falling into the next (also full of kids), which cracks and dumps us all, about 15 kids, into a screaming, bleeding, broken-boned heap on the ground. An ambulance came and took Jimmy to the hospital for his shattered humerus.
• One of my earliest memories (I have no idea how old I was or even which house we were living in) is of building a snowman in the yard with my mother. The bottom section was huge, and we’d rolled a pretty big snowball to be the middle. When she lifted the second snowball to stack it atop the first, my mom tipped over backward into the snow. I remember her laying there in the snow, with a giant snowball on top of her, laughing so hard she couldn’t get up.
• My family dog was run over while following me across the street to the neighbor’s house. I didn’t know she was back there.
• When I was 14, I shot my first deer. After my dad helped me gut it out, he reached across the carcass and shook my hand. Like men do.
• When I was 10 or so, a kid named Jacob was abducted from the nearby farm town just ten miles up the road or so. He has never been found.

Juggernaut:

Interesting topic. Trying to think back that far, and trying to think of such events that had an impact on me, makes me think I was something of a cold bastard. But here’s what I came up with.

• There was a kid that lived down the street that got hit by a car when he ran a stop sign at the base of a steep hill riding on his mini-bike. I remember hearing screams (his <shudder>) and Careflight coming, landing pretty much in front of our house. While he was the first kid FlashCap [my twin brother] and I met when we moved there, by that point I (and probably FC) didn’t like him much (he was probably going to turn out to be a serial killer, IMO). So that didn’t really “change my life.”
• Freshman year of high school, maybe sophomore. In the high school weight room with FC after school. We are getting ready to do some bench press, and I decide that I want to try 35-lb plates (maybe 45-lb) on each side. This was new to both FC and I as all we had done up to that point was universal machines in 7th and 8th and a little weight bench at home that had those concrete-filled plastic weights. A little sh*t that had for some reason tormented me since 7th grade (I couldn’t exactly beat him up because it would have made me look bad for picking on this little dude) came up to me and said “yeah, right”, etc., indicating that I wouldn’t be able to bench it. I laid down on the bench, and threw it up in quick succession 10 times, then moved up the weight. Never heard a f*cking word from that little dude again. FC even commented that he was impressed when we were leaving. That really made me feel good. Great, really.
• Hanging out with the stock crew at Winn-Dixie after work. That was kind of significant to me, thinking back. It was the first time I moved outside of my and FC’s circle of friends (which included CowboyFromHeck) on my own. I think it prepared me for my going off to undergrad completely on my own as no one I knew was going to my college of choice.

FlashCap:

• Juggernaut hitting me with a toy (metal!) shovel and giving me 10 stitches in my nose, and a scar for life. Hey, Juggernaut, I’ve never forgiven you for that.
• My best friend getting hit by a car while on a little mini-bike. Juggernaut laughed at his screams. Hey, Juggernaut, I’ve never forgiven you for that.
• Juggernaut not letting me bench press after he showed up that little f*cker – his exact words were “Grab the towel, bitch, we’re outta here!” I muttered something about wanting to bench press, too, but Juggernaut for some reason just smiled and walked out. I had to go, because Juggernaut was my spotter. Hey, Juggernaut, I’ve never forgiven you for that.
• Staying at home, alone, waiting for Juggernaut to come home from work so we could spend more time palling around and joking around with one another before we went our separate ways in college. Come to find out, though, that Juggernaut is getting drunk in the Winn-Dixie parking lot with his “real friends.” Hey, Juggernaut, I’ve never forgiven you for that.

LAMB OF GOD - WRATH

I am a huge fan of thrash metal.  There is just something about it that grabs you by the throat and won’t let you go.  The best metal of this sort has a “groove”:  riffs to kill for keeping time with hellaciously fast blastbeats, riding cymbals, and a pounding bass.   Back in the mid- to late 80s, there existed a sort of glory days of thrash.  This was exemplified by the four pillars of the genre (Anthrax, Slayer, Megadeth, and old Metallica) coupled with the “newcomers” Pantera.  Go ahead and throw in Prong (particularly Beg to Differ) and Testament as a couple of other favorites.

Lamb of God is today’s undisputed leader of the genre and is leading a renaissance of thrash.  Sure, Slayer and Metallica get the Grammys, but that is just a case of  name recognition on the part of the voters.  I was first turned on to LoG after hearing “Laid to Rest” from their album Ashes of the Wake, which was the first album I’d bought in a long time that simply ripped my face off.   And while I was never a huge fan of the “cookie monster”-style of vocal stylings, LoG just made it work for me.   Their follow-up, Sacrament, became a drop-date purchase for me, and it continued to impress.

But both albums have been eclipsed by the triumph that is Wrath.

Where do these guys get all of these wonderful riffs?  Seriously, if you don’t find yourself involuntarily headbanging during the bridge of “Dead Seeds,” you have no metal in your soul.   High points (as if there were low points) include “Set to Fail”, “Contractor” and “Choke Sermon”.    But my personal favorite is the closer, “Reclamation”:  the blues-based lick that provides the structure and, simply put, drive of this song is perfectly pieced together.  It is the juggernaut of the album.

Wrath is now the front-runner for album of the year.  It will be interesting to see what other bands are willing to put out this year in the face of this onslaught.