June 28, 2008
Convergences
June 26, 2008
Oh come all ye faithful
June 22, 2008
The Clone Wars
Sometimes people you know remind you of a famous person. Sometimes people tell you that you may resemble a certain famous person. This can be either somewhat flattering or somewhat offensive depending on who the famous person is.
When I was in high school, some people told me I looked like Tony Hawk:
I didn't really have a problem with that and I probably did look a little like him since I was about 40 pounds lighter than I am now. A girl in one of my art classes said I looked like Lance Bass, and even called me "Lance" for the rest of the school year. I didn't really like this one even though it was before this stunning announcement:
Later on, a few girls I knew said I looked like the sloth from "Ice Age." They then called me Sloth until I stopped hanging out with them. Here is the sloth:
Not too flattering, right? More recently, one of my good friends has started insisting that I look like Utah Jazz center Mehmet Okur:
Wow, really? I mean how is that not an insult? Look at the guy! No chin, uni-brow, the charisma of a used band aid, etc. My friend tried to make me feel better about it by saying something like, "Well, he was an all-star last year, and he does have a really hot wife." Yes, well that is true but I don't play basketball. So he's saying I'm as ugly as Mehmet Okur, but without the things that make his life great. Thanks.
Since I've been at college I've had two separate strangers approach me and tell me that I look exactly like the lead singer from the band Thrice. They made sure to impress upon me that I so resembled this guy that it was actually "freaky."
I looked this guy up, and I have to say he does kind of look like me. We have the same beard and apparently the same dumb-looking "no tooth smile." Here are some pictures of the guy (who's name is Dustin Kensrue):
(That second photo does look a lot like me.)
So the question is, who do you all look like? I have made some initial comparisons with some of my closer friends. For example, my friend, roommate, and long-time State College-er Dan looks a lot like Taylor Hicks:
Also, my friend Chris looks like a Kewpie doll:
When I was in high school, some people told me I looked like Tony Hawk:
I didn't really have a problem with that and I probably did look a little like him since I was about 40 pounds lighter than I am now. A girl in one of my art classes said I looked like Lance Bass, and even called me "Lance" for the rest of the school year. I didn't really like this one even though it was before this stunning announcement:
Later on, a few girls I knew said I looked like the sloth from "Ice Age." They then called me Sloth until I stopped hanging out with them. Here is the sloth:
Not too flattering, right? More recently, one of my good friends has started insisting that I look like Utah Jazz center Mehmet Okur:
Wow, really? I mean how is that not an insult? Look at the guy! No chin, uni-brow, the charisma of a used band aid, etc. My friend tried to make me feel better about it by saying something like, "Well, he was an all-star last year, and he does have a really hot wife." Yes, well that is true but I don't play basketball. So he's saying I'm as ugly as Mehmet Okur, but without the things that make his life great. Thanks.
Since I've been at college I've had two separate strangers approach me and tell me that I look exactly like the lead singer from the band Thrice. They made sure to impress upon me that I so resembled this guy that it was actually "freaky."
I looked this guy up, and I have to say he does kind of look like me. We have the same beard and apparently the same dumb-looking "no tooth smile." Here are some pictures of the guy (who's name is Dustin Kensrue):
(That second photo does look a lot like me.)
So the question is, who do you all look like? I have made some initial comparisons with some of my closer friends. For example, my friend, roommate, and long-time State College-er Dan looks a lot like Taylor Hicks:
Also, my friend Chris looks like a Kewpie doll:
Labels: people who look like other people, random
June 18, 2008
Like the sounding of one thousand horns
Today I traded in my old banjo, Betsy. Here is (was) Betsy:
Here is my new banjo, Nadine:
Now, I realize that Nadine looks cheaper/cheesier than Betsy, but don't let the looks fool you. She sounds amazing and is about 1 billion times easier to play. Take banjo enthusiast and all-around genius composer Sufjan Stevens. He likes the same model:
Hopefully Nadine and I will be able to form a tightly-knit kinship before the fourth of July, when State College will again embark on an increasing vain effort to reach the masses.
If you enjoy poorly played banjo and obscure folk song covers, plus some equally poorly-written original material, be at the tennis courts of the Sommerset subdivision (Farmington) at high noon. Bring a heart full of good will and sturdy shoes.
Here is my new banjo, Nadine:
Now, I realize that Nadine looks cheaper/cheesier than Betsy, but don't let the looks fool you. She sounds amazing and is about 1 billion times easier to play. Take banjo enthusiast and all-around genius composer Sufjan Stevens. He likes the same model:
Hopefully Nadine and I will be able to form a tightly-knit kinship before the fourth of July, when State College will again embark on an increasing vain effort to reach the masses.
If you enjoy poorly played banjo and obscure folk song covers, plus some equally poorly-written original material, be at the tennis courts of the Sommerset subdivision (Farmington) at high noon. Bring a heart full of good will and sturdy shoes.
June 9, 2008
A Question:
Consider these options:
1. You must take a certain pill every single day or you will die. Additionally, you must take the pill exactly between the minutes of 3:10 am to 3:13 am, or you will also die. The pills will be provided for you free of charge. As long as you take the pill at the appointed time, you will never get sick (but as stated before, if you don't take the pill, you will die). The pills make your breath smell like Elmer's glue mixed with fish paste.
OR
2. You will die in a car accident. You don't know when, but you know that before this happens, you will achieve success both in your chosen career and in your personal life and you will have fulfilled most all of your major life goals. You know that only you will die in the accident and that your loved ones will be well cared for. Friends will praise you and celebrate the life you have lived.
Which one of these scenarios would you choose and why?
1. You must take a certain pill every single day or you will die. Additionally, you must take the pill exactly between the minutes of 3:10 am to 3:13 am, or you will also die. The pills will be provided for you free of charge. As long as you take the pill at the appointed time, you will never get sick (but as stated before, if you don't take the pill, you will die). The pills make your breath smell like Elmer's glue mixed with fish paste.
OR
2. You will die in a car accident. You don't know when, but you know that before this happens, you will achieve success both in your chosen career and in your personal life and you will have fulfilled most all of your major life goals. You know that only you will die in the accident and that your loved ones will be well cared for. Friends will praise you and celebrate the life you have lived.
Which one of these scenarios would you choose and why?
Labels: questions
June 5, 2008
The Listening Rock: Guilty Pleasure Edition
I actually don't believe in the term, "guilty pleasure." Why should you have to feel guilty about liking something? (OK, actually, pedophilia is probably a guilty pleasure.) Admitting that you love Hall & Oates shouldn't make you feel guilty about anything, you just need to accept that sometimes the popular tastes of a current era may run counter to something you like.
It seems that everything my generation embraces has to be wrapped in 12 layers of irony so that if someone tries to ridicule your tastes, you can fall back on the excuse that you actually like it ironically. Like, is enjoying the music The Darkness made mean that you sincerely like butt-rock? Or are you just ironically enjoying the idea of butt-rock (the 80's are funny!) since The Darkness themselves seemed to be mocking the genre? But what if you actually start to sincerely like butt-rock? You would have to call it a "guilty pleasure" just to keep your distance, when in reality the only thing you should feel guilty about is being too wrapped up in your own image that you can't even remember what you're supposed to ironically appreciate and what is OK to sincerely admire.
Really though, the two paragraphs above are all just an elaborate justification for one of the most spine-crushingly un-hip things I've ever admitted: I have become a fan of The Osmonds.
This wasn't a conscious decision on my part. It all started when I was at the DI browsing their records (only 25 cents each) and I came across a double LP of the Osmonds Greatest Hits. It looked insane enough to buy just for the cover art, so I picked it up.
My knowledge of The Osmonds up until a few weeks ago was this: A bunch of Mormon Jackson 5 wannabes who sang cheesy songs, spawned a variety show with Donny and Marie, and then faded away and ended up in Branson Missouri (which is like show biz purgatory). Most of that is true, but I had no idea until now that the brothers Osmond were actually a self contained rock band--and boy did they rock (in their own awkward-white-Mormons-from-Utah way). Here is the video for "Hold Her Tight." I realize that they look ridiculous in their Elvis-suits and the dance moves are super cheesy, but damn, this was 1972. That song has got to be one of the harder rock songs to chart that year, since the early 70's were dominated by the sensitive singer-songwritery types like Carole King, Cat Stevens, and Don McClean. "Hold Her Tight" may seem kind of show-tuney to us now, but at the time it was pretty hard (even if they did steal the bass line from Zeppelin's "The Immigrant Song").
"Hold Her Tight" is pretty intense, but what really made my head explode is the title track from the album, "Crazy Horses." Honestly, I had no idea that such a strange convergence of pop-culture could even exist. "Crazy Horses" is part Vegas horn section, part "Helter Skelter," and the opening synth squeal (courtesy of Donny) sounds like something that went wrong in Spinal Tap. The kicker is that the song seems to be about cars (the afore-mentioned "crazy horses") and their pollution which is "smokin' up the sky." This is the "Road House" of rock songs: a ridiculous bombastic combination of other genres, but at the same time professing some deeper philosophy; Road House with the Buddhist philosophy major who travels from town to town beating up rednecks, and the Osmonds with their proto-environmentalist message embedded in one of the best and strangest rock songs of the century. Take a look:
So, there it is. I kind of like the Osmonds, in all of their strange Mormon-rock glory. Stay tuned for my upcoming discussion of their strangest creation of all, the profoundly odd, yet awesome concept album called "The Plan." That's right; it's about the plan of salvation.
It seems that everything my generation embraces has to be wrapped in 12 layers of irony so that if someone tries to ridicule your tastes, you can fall back on the excuse that you actually like it ironically. Like, is enjoying the music The Darkness made mean that you sincerely like butt-rock? Or are you just ironically enjoying the idea of butt-rock (the 80's are funny!) since The Darkness themselves seemed to be mocking the genre? But what if you actually start to sincerely like butt-rock? You would have to call it a "guilty pleasure" just to keep your distance, when in reality the only thing you should feel guilty about is being too wrapped up in your own image that you can't even remember what you're supposed to ironically appreciate and what is OK to sincerely admire.
Really though, the two paragraphs above are all just an elaborate justification for one of the most spine-crushingly un-hip things I've ever admitted: I have become a fan of The Osmonds.
This wasn't a conscious decision on my part. It all started when I was at the DI browsing their records (only 25 cents each) and I came across a double LP of the Osmonds Greatest Hits. It looked insane enough to buy just for the cover art, so I picked it up.
My knowledge of The Osmonds up until a few weeks ago was this: A bunch of Mormon Jackson 5 wannabes who sang cheesy songs, spawned a variety show with Donny and Marie, and then faded away and ended up in Branson Missouri (which is like show biz purgatory). Most of that is true, but I had no idea until now that the brothers Osmond were actually a self contained rock band--and boy did they rock (in their own awkward-white-Mormons-from-Utah way). Here is the video for "Hold Her Tight." I realize that they look ridiculous in their Elvis-suits and the dance moves are super cheesy, but damn, this was 1972. That song has got to be one of the harder rock songs to chart that year, since the early 70's were dominated by the sensitive singer-songwritery types like Carole King, Cat Stevens, and Don McClean. "Hold Her Tight" may seem kind of show-tuney to us now, but at the time it was pretty hard (even if they did steal the bass line from Zeppelin's "The Immigrant Song").
"Hold Her Tight" is pretty intense, but what really made my head explode is the title track from the album, "Crazy Horses." Honestly, I had no idea that such a strange convergence of pop-culture could even exist. "Crazy Horses" is part Vegas horn section, part "Helter Skelter," and the opening synth squeal (courtesy of Donny) sounds like something that went wrong in Spinal Tap. The kicker is that the song seems to be about cars (the afore-mentioned "crazy horses") and their pollution which is "smokin' up the sky." This is the "Road House" of rock songs: a ridiculous bombastic combination of other genres, but at the same time professing some deeper philosophy; Road House with the Buddhist philosophy major who travels from town to town beating up rednecks, and the Osmonds with their proto-environmentalist message embedded in one of the best and strangest rock songs of the century. Take a look:
So, there it is. I kind of like the Osmonds, in all of their strange Mormon-rock glory. Stay tuned for my upcoming discussion of their strangest creation of all, the profoundly odd, yet awesome concept album called "The Plan." That's right; it's about the plan of salvation.
Labels: music
June 1, 2008
Ratings
A tip of the hat to:
-My little brother, who conducted and spoke at the Davis High graduation ceremony (he is the senior class president). The tip of the hat is because he managed to quote a Fergie-Ferg song in his speech (much to the consternation of the principal). Attaboy, son.
-The random Argentine deli conveniently located in Farmington where my parents live. It was like stepping into a rip in the space/time continuum--all of the sudden I was surrounded by bags of yerba and the walls were covered in Boca/River paraphernalia. I lunched on an excellent milanesa sandwich and enjoyed a few super-authentic empanadas (down to the gross green olives you must pick out, next to the chunks of hard boiled eggs). I even talked my mom into buying some bread from their bakery for a dinner party she was having. Aguante la republica!
A wag of the finger to:
-Cats. Just cats in general. I don't like 'em.
-Pools with way too much chlorine. Yeah, I understand that little kids may crap in the pool, but that doesn't mean I want my skin to peel off every time I go down to the hot tub.
-My little brother, who conducted and spoke at the Davis High graduation ceremony (he is the senior class president). The tip of the hat is because he managed to quote a Fergie-Ferg song in his speech (much to the consternation of the principal). Attaboy, son.
-The random Argentine deli conveniently located in Farmington where my parents live. It was like stepping into a rip in the space/time continuum--all of the sudden I was surrounded by bags of yerba and the walls were covered in Boca/River paraphernalia. I lunched on an excellent milanesa sandwich and enjoyed a few super-authentic empanadas (down to the gross green olives you must pick out, next to the chunks of hard boiled eggs). I even talked my mom into buying some bread from their bakery for a dinner party she was having. Aguante la republica!
A wag of the finger to:
-Cats. Just cats in general. I don't like 'em.
-Pools with way too much chlorine. Yeah, I understand that little kids may crap in the pool, but that doesn't mean I want my skin to peel off every time I go down to the hot tub.
Labels: ratings
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