Why do I always think of these things at the last minute? M. & I will be in the city of brotherly love @ a Dead Milkmen show. *shut up, Crankypants*. I know you last saw them in the 80s. Anyways, here's the close-out to another brilliant Rocktober.
I have this twisted obsession about, well, never mind the specifics. That's right, it's cryptic. Surprise, surprise. And if you have a problem with that, don't read any further. In fact, just leave. Anyway, this song I'm about to present to you will prolong the agony I'm already feeling. Because I love a challenge. Natch. And lastly, don't be misled by the title. It has nothing to do with fruit.
-Harry Kalas (always the voice of the Phillies)
Now here’s a pet peeve I’m sure we can all agree on: the
constant attention seeker. You know the type. And let me preference this by
using the German pronoun “seinen” when referring to he/she, since seinen
represents both genders in the plural sense. Seinen goal in life is to focus your
attention solely on them. I, on the other hand, don’t care one iota about
attention. The only reason I’m even on board for a second helping of Rocktober
is on the suggestion of an unknown associate, and nothing more. I happily obliged;
and looking back, I’m glad I received the suggestion. Thank you very much
sir/ma’am.
Moving on, after being alerted to read seinen blog once it
was completed, I met it with absolutely no enthusiasm or indignation, which ruined seinen glee. Given
seinen numerous improprieties (I’ll mention the front-runner issue in the next
paragraph), I find the need to imitate yours truly the most disturbing. After
all, isn’t imitation the sincerest form of flattery?
Flying Spagetti Monster knows I have no intention of
imitating someone else. I’m very comfortable with my own interests, no matter
how lame they may be. For instance, this deal with front-runnerism I mentioned
before. What’s the deal with that? Most folks have an allegiance to one city
when it comes to sports. Baseball – Phillies, Football – *Eagles (*officially
on boycott until Michael Vick is released*), Hockey – Flyers, Basketball – yawn…zzzzzz.
See how easy that is? But for the frontrunner, who suffers from said disorder,
they must latch onto winners and declare themselves part of the bandwagon, even
though they got on 60 stations too late. Usually the perpetrator that spawns
these lepers is the team logo. Weaklings are mesmerized by the “star” of the
Dallas Cowboys, or the navy blue Yankees cap. They people usually reside in decrepit
cities like Pittsburgh, where
everybody is a Steelers fan and nobody is a Pirates fan. Go figure, right? You’ll
find more Red Sox and Yankees hats in Pittsburgh
than you will Pirates hats. Unfortunately, I’ve been there, and I’ve witnessed
the horror.
Anyway, I have pontificated enough about seinen modus
operandi. I eagerly await seinen retaliatory “You’re the most retarded person
on the face of the Earth” comment with baited breath. All it does is point out
seinen insecurities. Oooh, and here's another one. Seinen comment must always be the last comment...always. In this case, I'll allow it to be seinen first & last.
Alright! Shall we rock? We’re only down to 5 more days. Speaking of which, my opposite number has launched a few pre-emptive artist selections I was saving for this last week. So to balance the scales, here’s my selection for October 27th. This song stayed in the basement for over 10 years (Stu Sutcliffe and Pete Best were in the band!) until the foursome not only brought it to the surface…more specifically, they brought it to the rooftop for their final farewell.
One of my oversights from last year was not including The Dead Kennedys on the 31 Days of Rocktober calendar. I won't make that same mistake this year, I can promise you that. What gravitates to me a band like the Kennedys is their endless, satirical outlook on society. Take, for instance, the hippy-dippy campaign of Jerry Brown whose ultra-left wing initiatives didn't exactly sit well with Jello. Today's selection pokes fun at the majority of gentlemen in my high school years who could drink a half-case of beer, and boast 10 times during the night about their motor skills being unaffected. Unfortunately, that's a losing battle in other, more important facets of life.
Considering it's still October 24th in the: Central, Mountain, and Pacific time zones, I'm just getting this Rocktober post in on time. Back in the late 80s, one of my good friends coerced me to join the town pee-wee football team after many failed attempts in the past. And I played for 3 years before coming to the conclusion that football can only be played the athletically gifted, which naturally, didn't include me. I do recall my good friend requesting our entrance onto the field be accompanied by a certain rock-tastic song, that had to do with a jungle. At the time, I failed to make the connection since our team nickname was the Bulldogs. Were we gonna hunt down lions or tigers?
The skies are raining dogs outside on this miserable night in the mid-atlantic, leaving me to consume lots of Flying Fish within these four walls.
Aww, no mosh pit? Nothing says "successful concert" until you've been kicked in the head. read more
on Try To Understand