Sydney Greenstreet Doesn't Scare Me, Either

A mixed bag today:

*Please enjoy the best.video.ever. Warning: It might take a while to get the annoying tune out of your head, along with all of the images.

*My Final Four quandary: Being a Louisville fan, I want them to beat Illinois on Saturday and then win the title on Monday. However, if Illinois ends up defeating North Carolina for all of the marbles, I win a cool $325. I'll be rooting for the Cards, but an Illini win won't kill me. Should I feel guilty that a Louisville loss won't seem as bad if I score on Monday?

*iPod Update: 1,622 songs. Shuffle still sucking (I fast-forward quite a bit.)

*Heard this morning: Green Day - American Idiot. Finally got around to checking this out, and while I don't consider it the classic many do, I enjoyed the first spin. I've never really cared much for Green Day, even though I do have a soft spot for that type of pop-punk (like 30 Amp Fuse, Gaunt or, the godfathers, Superchunk).

*Heard last night: The Jazz Butcher - "Peter Lorre". The phrase "criminally overlooked" is often overused and usually incorrect, but it's fitting in the case of the Jazz Butcher (aka Pat Fish). What a great pop songwriter this guy was/is. Anyway, this obscure track is one of my favorite Butcher tunes, only because it makes me laugh:

Peter Lorre isn't really dead

Peter Lorre, Peter Lorre
He's all right, he's all right
Peter Lorre, Peter Lorre
It's all right, he's on your side
Peter Lorre, Peter Lorre
It's all right, you can trust him
Peter Lorre, Peter Lorre
He's all right

Peter Lorre, Peter Lorre
He's a brick, he's a brick
You can count on him in trouble
Even if it's really thick
Any crisis, he'll be there
Like a little squidgy bear
Peter Lorre, Peter Lorre
He's a brick

Peter Lorre, Peter Lorre
Runs a nightclub way downtown
Peter Lorre, Peter Lorre
Always wears an evil frown
Don't spit on his shoes
Or mess up his hair
Or he will shoot you dead
And go back upstairs

But it's okay
It's all right, you can trust him
Peter Lorre's on your side
You can trust him with your secrets
He'll give you some place to hide
Don't you worry, don't you fret
Peter Lorre is a pet
You can trust that Peter Lorre
He's a vet

A real gentleman
Never bad and never rude
Never mad and never crude
Just like Sydney Greenstreet
Just like Sydney... Green...street
In any crisis he'll be there
Like a little squidgy bear
That's Peter Lorre, not Sydney Greenstreet

And you can trust him, you can trust him
He's all right, he's all right
You can trust this tiny person
Peter Lorre's on your side
Sydney Greenstreet does not scare him
Peter Lorre knows no fear
Fearless little Peter Lorre
He's a brick
Woo!

Peter Lorre, Peter Lorre
He's all right, he's all right
Peter Lorre, Peter Lorre
He's a brick, he's a brick
Peter Lorre, Peter Lorre
It's all right, he's on your side
Peter Lorre, Peter Lorre
He's a brick

Weapon of Mass Destruction

You can always count on the Weekly World News to cover a story the mainstream media won't. Who knew about Laura Bush?

Flipping the Bird

Props to my old friend Jerry for scoring an NPR review gig. Take a listen, it's good. Can't say the artist he's praising is my cup of birdseed, but we've known each other about 17 years, and I think the only thing we've ever seen eye to eye on is that we can't stand each other half the time. He's a good egg, though.

French Dip Toast

Not much to say today, but something happened during our Easter brunch in Louisville that I found pretty damn amusing, and I keep laughing about it a day later.

My nephew (by marriage) went up to the buffet and got himself a waffle. Like most people, he poured some syrup over it. After he sits down, he takes a bite and immediately gets a look of disgust on his face. Turns out he put some beef au jus on the waffle rather than good ol' Aunt Jemima. Hilarity ensued.

Gotta love Louisville making the Final Four, by the way. As stated, they got screwed by their seed (wait, that doesn't sound right), but they fought their way through it. Now if I could only afford a ticket...

The Gospel According to John

As promised, dear reader (and I do mean that in the singular sense), here's the interview I did with John Davis. The one-page piece derived from it is in the upcoming Magnet (Sleater-Kinney on the cover).

Davis is one of my all-time favorite songwriters, right up there with Pete Townshend, Paul Westerberg, Tommy Keene and Bob Pollard. That's large company (in my book, anyway), but Davis rightly belongs. Superdrag was an exemplary power-pop band, for lack of a better descriptor, with a lyrical depth generally not seen in its peers.

The interview goes into greater detail, but Superdrag is basically no more, and Davis is now a born-again Christian. It's a fascinating story, and though it's a little odd hearing Davis sing, "Thank you, Jesus" rather than, "I'm expanding my mind," Davis is way more approachable and non-judgmental than just about any other born-again I've ever spoken with. And his music hasn't suffered in the least.

I was going to go into a lengthy explanation of where I stand, religion-wise, but now I don't feel like it. Suffice to say, it's never played a part in my life, but I've come around to where I appreciate the peace it often brings to other people.

In unrelated news, the Dog Walker Diaries are now on hiatus. Ben has been replaced by Stacy, so we'll have to see if she's in any way creative. Ben hadn't been on his game lately, anyway.

Also, my complaints about Louisville's #4 tournament seed have been proven correct. (In my mind, at least.) A number of #2 and #3 seeds have been knocked off, and the Cardinals are playing as well as anyone left in the madness. Tough game coming up vs. Washington Thursday, but they can beat them.

Gator Bait

Well, to use a cliche, so close...yet so far. My beloved Bobcats got down by 20 to Florida, staged a furious comeback to tie the game at 60, then gave up a cheap basket after an air ball and ended up losing 67-62. Damn it. Have to give them credit for not giving up, but it's tough to swallow that right now.

I don't have the inclination to comment on the last episode of The Amazing Race, other than to say Douchebag stole another team's cab by paying the driver more money, then quit a task (eating about four pounds of meat) in order to take a time penalty. He's all class.

More on this later -- I'll be posting an interview when's it's online -- but we saw John Davis at Schuba's last night. Excellent show, and I was honored to finally meet John in person. Sweetheart of a guy.

A Salty Salute

Props to my Ohio University Bobcats for making the NCAA Tournament for the first time since 1994. See, you have to make a big deal out of it when your school goes to the dance once a decade. (In fairness, OU did go twice in the '80s. Dynasty, eh?) I'm not too thrilled that they drew a hot Florida team in the first round, but we'll still pray for an upset.

Meanwhile, Louisville, my other favorite team, got hosed with its #4 seed. I'll never really understand what the selection committee is thinking. And, no one else will, either, as the whole thing is conducted in double-secret, and the members are never held accountable for their mistakes.

Not to sound like Andy Rooney or anything, but do you ever find yourself laughing at something that no one else does? Happens to me all the time. Half the time it makes feel like I'm mentally challenged; the other half, mentally superior. Anyway, I'm at the Damen and Milwaukee bus stop last night on my way home from work. I'm standing about seven feet behind the bench; on the bench are two young punk-rock poseurs: shaved heads, steel-toed boots, tattoos, etc. One of them (we'll call her Hipster #1) was drinking an iced coffee -- hell, it was only about 20 degrees with snow flurries, so why not cool down a little? -- so they'd obviously been to the Starbucks across from the bus stop.

I'm there for about 10 minutes, and then a Starbucks employee, talking into a cell phone, crosses the street. (I knew she worked there because she had on a uniform and an apron, but no jacket.) She walks up to the bus-stop bench and starts talking to the slackers. Now, I have my headphones on, so I can't hear any of the discussion, but after about 30 seconds, one of the hipsters -- we'll call him Hipster #2 -- sheepishly reaches into his pocket and pulls out a salt shaker. The Starbucks employee takes it and walks back across the street.

Me? I burst out laughing. Funniest thing I'd seen in a while. None of the other 12 or so people also freezing at the stop laughed. Either they didn't notice -- though I did see some of them following the action -- or it didn't strike them as amusing. I doubt I'll see anything as amusing on the way home today, but I suppose there's always hope.

The Amazing Douchebag

I don't feel compelled to comment on every episode of The Amazing Race, because there's just too much that happens during the course of an hour. But I have to speak out, again, about the presence of Douchebag and Amber in Race #7. Here's my problem: Douchebag (not so much Amber, who is beginning to look more and more like a dim bulb) is turning an honest, straight-up competition into a Survivor-like game of deception. In the last episode, he paid a security guard to not give out an important piece of information to the other teams and lied about it to their faces. Then, he joined with two or three other teams (I've already forgotten) to bribe a bus driver to only open the front exit, and not the back exit, so that the teams in the back would get out only after the teams in the front. Not so bad, right? Well, he used the other teams' money to pay the driver, pocketed his own cash and then gleefully and smugly admitted it to the camera.

Don't get me wrong, I'm a big Survivor fan, and the alliances/lying/intrigue, etc., make it the excellent TV it is. But I always saw The Amazing Race as an entirely different thing: an honest race, almost a sporting event, where the teams follow the rules and try to defeat the competition. Sure, racers have withheld information from other teams, and you can use the strategy of "yielding" teams, but no one to this point has lied and cheated the way Douchebag is. The worst part, other than that he's succeeding, is that future players will start resorting to the same tactics, forever changing the nature of The Amazing Race and taking away the very element that separated it from the pack of reality shows. The only way that doesn't happen is if Douchebag and Amber somehow slip up and get eliminated. Can't happen soon enough.

Broken Ankiel

The headline's a stretch, I know. But, wow, what a strange story out of St. Louis Cardinals' camp today. Rick Ankiel, an extremely promising pitcher who excelled as a rookie in 2000 before wigging out in the playoffs and then experienced arm problems, is calling it quits as a hurler and will attempt to make the team as an outfielder. We've seen this before, in reverse: Brooks Kieschnick was a flop Cubs outfield prospect who's now a decent reliever for the Brewers, and Ron Mahay, now with the Rangers, did the same thing. I'd be interested to know if anyone has made the transition from pitcher to player, though; looking at Ankiel's stats, he was certainly a good-hitting pitcher, but indications are he'll be nothing more than a mediocre swinger (so to speak).

As much as I hate the Cardinals, it's tough to see anyone going through any form of Steve Blass Disease. I'm sure that if Ankiel had been successful as a pitcher, I'd end up despising him as much as, say, Matt Morris. But I'm rooting for him for the time being, right up until he ends up hurting the Cubs with a key hit.

And while I'm tossing out some lukewarm Cardinals love, I can't stand Tony LaRussa as a manager, but I greatly admire him for his Animal Rescue Foundation.

Half-Assed Political Post

I tend to stay away from writing/talking about politics, because I usually end up sounding like a dummy, but I did find this amusing.

Saw Jeff Tweedy's show Saturday night at the Vic. Once again, simply outstanding. And, as with the January 2003 Tweedy gig, we were treated to a bonus Wilco set. All things considered, I'd put Tweedy/Wilco as the most consistently entertaining live act around these days. I've seen him/them probably 10 times now, and I've never walked out of a show less than thrilled.

The Dog Walker Diaries: Episode 1

In addition to our two cats, Frank and Stosh, we have a dog, Alex. He's a Beagle/German Shepherd mix (a mutt in common lingo). Since we don't have a yard where he can spend extended hours outside, we take him for a number of walks every day: in the morning, the afternoon, after work and before I go to bed. As my wife and I are usually not around in the afternoon, that shift is covered by a dog-walking service. The walker arrives between noon and 2:00, takes Alex for about a 20-minute walk, then comes back inside and writes down the day's activities, i.e., whether he pooped and/or peed, had any run-ins with other dogs, etc.

Steve was our first dog walker. He moved on to hopefully greener pastures, so now we've got this guy Ben. The reason for all of this boring exposition, you ask? Well, while Steve would usually just write things along the lines of, "It was great to see Alex today, he did all of his business," Ben's pretty amusing, and he apparently appreciates the inherent oddness of his chosen profession. So, here's the first installment of what is sure to be a riveting, long-running series of Ben's ruminations. Enjoy.

"Alex and I enjoyed a great walk today in this beautiful sunshine...I really felt a connection. #1 only." -- Ben

Confessions of a Philistine, Part Deux

I've never been to New York City. To be honest, I've never had much of a desire to go. My friend Eric called me insane yesterday upon hearing this. Whatever. Here's the thing: I'm a city guy -- I live in one and love it -- and have no doubt that I'll probably like NYC whenever I do make the trek. (Tentative plans are being made to venture to the Big Apple to see the Cubs play the Yankees in June, part of the big 40th birthday extravaganza.) However, I can't stand the New York attitude: "We're the best city in the world, we're the center of the universe, there's no place like New York, you can get anything you want at 4 a.m.," etc. It's like how Super Bowl hype makes me almost want to skip the game entirely; the NYC-centric garbage spewed by many of its current and former residents makes me wants to puke, in a figurative sense. (I don't literally ever want to vomit, really.) And reports I've gotten from people who've lived there and didn't like it or have merely visited -- it's dirty, the people are assholes, etc. -- haven't exactly piqued my interest.

This isn't a Second City vs. NYC thing, either. I've hated NYC arrogance for years before I ever moved back here. But I'm keeping as open of a mind as possible. As I said, I love any big-city vibe and am looking forward to the trip, if it happens. And I know a few NYC proponents who are very nice. Something still tells me I'll be grateful to be back in Sweet Home Chicago afterward.