( 10:52 PM )
Random thoughts
Seems curious that Pete Rose is banned from the Baseball Hall of Fame for gambling, but for members of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, that’s more like a prerequisite. Well, that and drinking, smoking, womanizing, hard partying, driving cars into swimming pools, multi-state police chases, and hundreds of other depraved activities. Could you imagine a scandal large enough to get someone kicked out or banned from the Rock Hall?
Here’s the latest poll on whether or not we give a crap about polls:
46% said they couldn’t care less
46% said they care very much
46% said these polls are always fucked up
I heard somewhere that the span between 9/11/01 and 3/11/04 = 911 days. I haven’t done the math, but if true, that’s either a numerologist’s nightmare or a very specific act of terrorism meant to keep us wondering about our calendars.
Song of the day: “Woman Driving, Man Sleeping” Eels 2001
( 11:22 PM )
Under God
After all these years, some adults in this country have decided to just now take issue with the “under God” used in the Pledge of Allegiance. Though realistically it probably shouldn’t be there (it does seem to conflict with the separation of church and state), but at this point in history, how much does it really matter?
You know it’s mainly bleary-eyed school kids who have to mumble this thing every morning during homeroom that should care. I’m willing to bet that most of them couldn’t care less about it—they’ve been forced to recite it for so long, it probably has no real deep meaning. Secretly most high school seniors would rather spend early mornings at home sleeping than performing their civic duty ritual.
But if the pledge is so important (and now seemingly more popular than ever) why don’t we use it to replace the “Star Spangled Banner” sung before sporting events? The song is awfully clunky to sing and constantly mangled by amateur Enrico Palazzos who forget the words. The pledge is like the ABC song—even drunk idiots can get it right every time, plus it’s way shorter.
I wonder why adults stop publicly reciting the pledge after high school? Are we too old for that kid stuff? Imagine office workers across the country—brimming with pride, standing by their desks with their hands on the chests—reciting the pledge in perfect unison every morning. Count me among those who don’t miss regurgitating it. By my own calculations I’ve said it easily more than 3600 times during grade school. I also don’t have to worry about doing Trig homework ever again, thank God.
Dammit, I’m a Good American, but when it came to reciting the pledge, I never liked being strong-armed into forced patriotism.
Let’s lighten up people. There are way bigger issues out there to argue about.
( 12:08 PM )
THING presents to the noble readers of 2 Walls, a singing tribute to The Apprentice.
“Omarosa”
Sung to the tune “My Sharona” by The Knack
Oh my little petty one, petty one,
When you gonna cut me some slack, ‘marosa?
Oh you really piss me off, cheese me off
Why you got to argue all the time, ‘marosa
Never gonna stop, why can’t you get along?
Such a smart mind but no personality
My my my my a-ya woo—Om, Om, Om, Omarosa
When we gonna break for lunch? Whoa is me
Heidi screams, “we ain’t got the time ‘marosa”
Looking out for falling plaster, baby bump
Milkin’ it for what it’s worth, false sympathy
Think I’ll accuse Ereka of defaming me
My my my my a-ya woo—Om, Om, Om, Omarosa
Mr. Trump why you want to fire me, fire me?
It was just a matter of time ‘marosa
Is it just destiny, conspiracy?
Or is it some game in mind, ‘marosa?
Never gonna stop, why don’t you give it up?
Killer resume, but you’re an ice queen
My my my my a-ya woo—Om, Om, Om, Omarosa
( 9:49 PM )
Raw Deal
Ever wonder why more people don’t become teachers? Here’s yet another reason (of countless) not to teach in the state of New York. The Rochester City School District Board of Education has decided to start fingerprinting teachers, which isn’t a horrible idea-- sure it invades personal privacy, but what the hell, we live in a crazy society. Better safe than sorry I guess, which is unfortunate. Now the really shitty part: teachers are required to shell out $100 of their own money to get fingerprinted.
Yeah you heard right.
Imagine your boss coming to you tomorrow morning and telling you that the company wants to fingerprint you at your expense. If you refuse, you’re fired. And no, the hundred bucks can’t be deducted from your salary, nor can you even pay by check—only a certified cashier’s check or money order will be accepted as payment.
No, I’m not a teacher, but my wife is, and so are thousands of other brave souls who put up with enough crap from kids without having to deal with bureaucratic bullshit like this. Not to mention, what does a set of fingerprints cost? Are they using magic ink and gold plated index cards? I smell a $400 hammer. Fingerprinting is free at the bank. Could you imagine charging criminals a hundred bucks to get arrested and fingerprinted?
“Pfft, learning is for saps.” Homer Simpson
( 11:21 PM )
Hit Me, Fred
Since Thursday night, every free minute I’ve had has been spent trying to fully absorb Fred Wesley’s excellent autobiography, Hit Me, Fred: Recollections of a Sideman. He was in Rochester last week for some valuable City school lectures, a performance at the Montage Grille music room, and a book signing at Borders. I’ve always been inspired by soul, funk, and R&B music, and completely fascinated by the stories of these musicians.
I almost didn’t go to the signing; it had been a long day and I was beat. But when I got there, I was encouraged to see that there were lots of people flooding the area around Wesley and a local guitarist named Bob Sneider. There was a mix of music geeks, college kids, and parents with young kids in attendance. Wesley played trombone and spoke in detail about chapters in his life and fielded questions over noisy cappuccino machines nearby. Most of the questions were about James Brown or Bootsy Collins, but Wesley was gracious enough to answer them all, and quite honestly too.
After reading his book I’m convinced that Wesley is more than just a talented sideman, he’s a master musician, a survivor, and really, a national treasure. It was a special honor to shake his hand and have him sign a copy of his book.
And hey, Mr. Wesley, if by some odd chance you ever see this—I realize now that I should’ve bought a ticket for your show last year.
( 4:28 PM )
Does anyone else read USA Weekend, a supplement that comes with the circulars in Sunday papers? Every week on page 2, letters are printed from people who actually ask idiotic questions like these gems---
Nina Kraft from Denver writes, “I read everything I can about John Mayer, but he doesn’t talk about a girlfriend. Is there one?” And Keith Franceschiello of Locust Valley, NY, didn’t even have a question, but felt compelled to write “I can’t get enough of 2003 American Idol runner-up Clay Aiken. I believe he’ll be the next Elvis.”
Never mind the droll answers that USA printed, THING will sufficiently answer your questions here.
Hello Nina from Denver---
Face it; you really just want to know, “How do I get into John Mayer’s pants?” Well, your body probably ain’t no wonderland and obviously your stalking skills could use some help, otherwise you’d already be carrying Mayer’s love child. Either that or you’ve never heard of other guitarists like Dave Matthews, who also sounds like a bug when he sings.
Hello Keith from Locust Valley---
Your Clay Aiken/Elvis comparison is downright retarded. THING by the way, only uses the word “retarded” for stuff that doesn’t make sense, NEVER to describe someone mentally handicapped or challenged. Here’s another example of the word used in a sentence: President Bush’s policies are retarded. See?
So anyway, Clay Aiken might have a nice singing voice, but he’s merely a karaoke king, unable to write original songs, play instruments, or even act. Presley not only did it all times 100, but he lived like a boozing, pill-popping, womanizing rock superstar in a giant mansion, while it’s conceivable that Aiken may remain a virgin for life. Sorry son there will never be another Elvis, and highly doubtful there will be Clay Aiken impersonators clogging the streets of Vegas anytime soon.
THING is only here to help. If you have similar burning questions that need answers, please contact me through the site.
( 11:29 PM )
“It’s Clobbering Time!”
THING doesn’t need to wait until November to decide not to vote for George Bush. The Democrats could’ve nominated a super-intelligent chicken named Clucky and I’d have voted for it.
THING’s point is that everyone knows whom their voting for, right now. It’s Bush vs. Kerry, and no-- no one really figures Ralph Nader has a chance. The most sickening part of this election process will be the tens of millions of wasted dollars campaigning, when it’s not likely voters will flip-flop between these guys.
See THING figures you either gave a shit about seeing the tit, or you didn’t. You either marveled at the latest SI Swimsuit issue, or you didn’t. You’re either into a costly and unnecessary war with Iraq in name of terrorism, or your not. You’re either human enough to realize that the rest of the world justifiably hates us, or you don't.
THING also doesn’t understand the furor over gay marriages. With the exception of extreme racists, most people have gotten past interracial marriages between men and women, why can’t we get past the thought of say, two men marrying?
THING has just one condition if a couple of guys want to get married—you’ve got to prove that your gay, because this country just can’t have frat brothers accidentally getting hitched on wild & crazy blackout drinking binges in Vegas. Why, it would destroy the sanctity of the institution, seeing as how heterosexuals have totally perfected it.
( 11:53 PM )
Random Oscar thoughts:
Do you think Sean Penn could still play a young David Lee Roth in a Van Halen biopic? He’d be perfect you know. Hard to believe Spicoli was destined one day for an Oscar. Mystic River was ok, but Penn nailed the quintessential So-Cal surfer in Fast Times, and was awesome in 1983’s Bad Boys. Narrating the skateboard documentary Dogtown and Z-Boys was pretty killer too. Welcome to The Thing Hall of Fame.
I still haven’t seen a minute of any of the Lord of the Rings movies. No interest. So I was bored to tears last night with Rings acceptance speech after speech, and fell asleep at like 10:30 eastern time. Slept great actually. Hmm, this will be shorter than I thought considering I missed most of the show.
From what I do remember, Billy Crystal was pretty funny, but I’ll bet within the decade Jack Black will host the Oscars.
“Do you have-a li-saunce for yir minkey?”
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