Author: tim

Do Me a Favor

Don’t ever use the phrase, “be careful what you wish for.” Both you and I know that phrase is way overused and failed to be poignant about 30 years ago.

Thanks. I really appreciate it.

Here are a couple of phrases you could use instead:

1) You and whose army? I don’t think this phrase got near enough play back in it’s day.
2) Don’t forget to keep your knees bent. This is always good advice.
3) England expects that every man will do his duty. This just sounds cool.
4) Never mess with a sicilian when death is on the line. No one can argue with that.

Fresh Start

Okay, I’ve moved themuy hosting to myself. So, when the power goes off at Tim’s house, a little part of the web world will go down with it. I ask you to deal with it, dear reader. I ask you to make the refresh button your friend. I ask you to cope. I ask all of these things from you for I am themuy.

I also ask you to please bear with this standard, “outta the box” template from your good friends at Movable Type. I am simply too lazy for a redesign right now. But, I will. Don’t worry. Redesign, that is.

I know I’m asking alot, but it’s all in the respectable name of Progross (sic).

Later.

Man, I’m Jealous

Here’s the set list from Camper Van Beethoven’s Friday night show at the Knitting Factory in NY:

All Her Favorite Fruit
Eye of Fatima (Part 1&2)
O Death
Sweethearts
Tania
THE DAY THAT LASSIE WENT TO THE MOON
Mao reminisces About His Days in Southern China
Payed Vacation: Greece
9 Of Discs
Tusk
Turquoise Jewelry
Pictures of Matchstick Men
We’re A Bad Trip
Joe Stallin’s Cadillac
History of Utah
Skinheads
Ambiguity Song
Another song from Tusk
Sad Lover’s Waltz
She Divines Water
When I Win The Lottery
Wasted
One of these days

from the frequently amazing ftrain.com:

from the frequently amazing ftrain.com:

Crucifixion for better abs
There is something wrong with American skimming, turning away when it gets ugly or hard, when your comfort is threatened. It’s finding a new way to toss knucklebones – Kabbalah, say, or Meditation, or Yoga, or Charismatic Catholicism, rather than facing the ugliness in front of you, or more likely inside you, choosing instead a new, happy religion that will keep you from doing the hard thing, which is admitting you’re an asshole.

You should read ftrain.com.

Happy July 4th

Okay, so the wife and I went down to FL this past weekend for the 4th celebration and to see the parents. The high and low light of the weekend was the July 4th fireworks extravaganza in Destin harbor. Let me explain.

Every July 4th my parents go out on a chartered boat into the Destin harbor to watch the fireworks display. It’s really a lot of fun. There are thousands of people, some really cool-looking boats (I even saw 2 pirate ships complete with a mock cannonball war) and plenty of food and drink to keep you occupied. The fireworks were truly amazing as well—the best I’ve seen in a long time. It really had all the makings of a pleasant evening on the water. Now, on to the lowlight.

My annoyance can be pinpointed to a small loudspeaker bolted to the side of the charter boat. This thing blared the most awful sounds I could possibly imagine and at a volume that nearly caused my ears to abandon ship. For some reason, the captain thought his guests would enjoy hearing the marginal hits of the late 80’s as musical accompaniment for the evening.

I seriously heard some of the worst songs of my life on this boat. Songs I thought I would never have to hear again. Songs such as “Addicted to Love” by Robert Palmer. Songs that I don’t even know the name of, but trust me, they were bad. Real bad. And then, out of left field would come “Whip It” by Devo. Whip It? WTF? How does that fit into the mix? Don’t get me wrong, I like Devo, but that is not the most soothing sound to come out of a 3-inch tweeter at full volume.

And that’s another thing, the way this guy had his music “wired” to the speaker was brilliant. He had his little radio thing, the one he uses to make announcements on the boat and to talk to the Coast Guard, rubber-banded so it would stay on and then placed right up to the speaker of a boom box! Way to go, dude. That has to be the most hi-fidelity way to present music.

I know this sounds bad, but it was about to get a lot worse. The fireworks were ready to start, so the captain decided to tune in to the live radio broadcast from the fireworks people. It was a “program” of songs that they thought would go best with their visual display and get you in the right patriotic mood. A post-Sept. 11th patriotic mood, mind you. Songs such as “Proud to be an American” interspersed with clips of Bush speeches denouncing terror and vague pronouncements that “we will win”. Win? Win what? I half expected to see an over-sized Osama puppet hauled out into the harbor on a barge and lit on fire as jet fighters screamed overhead. Ugh.

What made me mad about this display was the fact that I was practically being told exactly how I was supposed to feel about my country on July 4th. Instead of being able to quietly reflect on what living in this country means to me, I was supposed to jump up and scream, “Hell yeah, terror will not stand! We’re right! You’re wrong! America means never having to apologize for our god-given right to do whatever we damn well please! And, by the way, Buck Fin Laden!”

Thanks for ruining my July 4th holiday, captain Wayne.

Okay, I think I’m done.
(tim quietly steps down from his soapbox as the rich vermilion tone of his face fades to pasty white)