Haunted by a Scary, Dead Japanese Boy

To celebrate the month of Halloween, we got together with our homeys the Bawdens last weekend. We carved pumpkins and watched “The Grudge.” For those of you who have not seen the movie, here is the plot:

Buffy the Vampire Slayer is working in Japan as a nanny for the elderly. She goes to a house that is haunted by the ghost of an (un)dead little Japanese boy and his mom. For some reason they want to kill everyone who goes into the house. The plot doesn’t really make any sense at all, and all I could figure out was that all of the killing is preceded by a gurgling sound. If there’s gurgling, crazy stuff is going to go down. Luckily Buffy doesn’t die, so there can be a sequel.

Anyway, we go home and I wake up in the middle of the night. Traci is pregnant and can only get comfortable if she is sleeping on the couch. I’m all alone in the bedroom and I hear the gurgling. I look around. Is that dead Japanese kid in here? I don’t see him, so I guess he’s hiding under the bed. Why does the dead Japanese kid want to kill me? I ask myself. I can’t think of any valid reason, but I can still him gurgling. I listen more carefully. It’s close to the bed. Maybe it’s in the bed. I lean forward and it gets louder – as if it’s coming from my own stomach. I get up, get something to eat and the gurgling mysteriously stops. The kid doesn’t bother me for the rest of the night.

But I Love 'The Chuck'

My dad has really stepped up his post-Priesthood Session game. Back in the day, I remember being treated to a shake at the Iceberg or Take 5. I don’t know what inspired the change, but the last few years we have started going to the Chuck-a-Rama after Conference.

I have previously expressed my love for The Chuck (I will soon be starring in a commercial called “But I Love ‘Chuck’”), but the Donster (previously My Dad vs. Email) upped his game again last weekend by taking my bro-in-law John and I to the Golden Corral.

Now, I’d never been to the Golden Corral before. Apparently, a requirement to be a successful buffet restaurant is to have an utterly unappealing name. Having just been at a corral at my grandpa’s ranch earlier that day, the idea of eating at a “Golden Corral” didn’t really seem appealing. Oh, but I was wrong. Very Swanky.

For you classy folk who are out on the buffet scene, here’s my comparison of The Chuck and the GC:

Beverages – The Chuck wins, hands down. Not only does the Chuck have a big ol’ selection including chocolate milk, exotic fruit drinks, and fake slurpees, but it is also self-serve. At the GC, you have to wait for the server to refill your drink with one of four boring flavors. However, the server does bring dinner rolls right to your table.

Meat – At the Chuck you get a choice of ham or roast beef. What else is there? I didn’t think there was anything else until I visited the GC. They’ll cook up some sirloin steak right there for you. I’ll take my steak medium-well, thanks! I also had some killer bourbon chicken.

Dessert-I was too full to eat dessert at the GC, after all of the steak and Brussel sprouts (that's right, Brussel sprouts!), but I’ll say this about the Chuck - any restaurant that serves Jell-O is okay by me.

Atmosphere – GC has better lighting and easier to get around. You don’t have to knock over 30 people to get from the salad to the soup like at the Chuck. The GC just feels classier.

Overall - The GC might be a bit nicer, but come on, we're talking about the Chuck here. How can you not love the Chuck?

Nada Surf The Weight is a Gift

I know what you’re thinking - Nada Surf, Nada Surf, why do I know that name?  If you scroll through your music memory all the way back to 1996 you’ll probably remember their radio hit “Popular,” with excerpts from the book “The Teenage Guide to Popularity.” 

Until three years ago, that was the only Nada Surf song I had ever heard.  In 2002 Rolling Stone started raving about the album “Let Go” and I decided to check it out.  (Note: Rolling Stone rarely gives good suggestions, so beware.)

“Let Go” is easily one of the best albums of the 2000s.  It’s so good that I actually save it for special occasions, for fear of overplaying it.  After “Let Go,” I went back through the band’s back catalog to see what I had been missing.  Well, not much.  Neither “High/Low” nor “Proximity Effect” were noteworthy.  

I had very modest hopes for “The Weight is a Gift.”  Sure, “Let Go,” was a masterpiece, but the question remained, was it the beginning of greater things to come, or just an average band getting lucky?   

The answer lies somewhere in the middle. “Weight” is by no means as good as “Let Go,” but better than their first two albums.  Overall, it’s more upbeat, but not necessarily more likable.  The genius of “Let Go” was that in between the somberness, a few happy tracks broke out through the clouds like rays of sunlight.  The happiness on “Weight” lacks downtrodden contrast. 

Though it’s not outstanding, after many listens, I’ve found that “Weight” is just a few solid tracks short of being one of those perfectly understated albums.  Or rather, the album has two or three too many bad songs.  The album rolls along nicely until the mistake of “What is Your Secret.”  The band bounces back with the most “Let Go-esque” moment of the album, “Your Legs Grow,” only to stumble again with “All is a Game.”  Unfortunately, the good songs are not good enough to overpower the songs that don’t work.   

This album works better as a mixtape.  Drop some of the bad stuff, keep the solid tracks like “Always Love,” “Do it Again,” and the expletive-heavy “The Blankest Year” and you will have a nice little EP that you can title “A Little Less Dead Weight is a Gift.”  

Outkast - ATLiens

Outkast
ATLiens
August 1996

Since I hadn't checked out Outkast's pre-Stankonia material, I figured I would give this one a try.

ATLiens, Outkast's second album,is Big Boi and Dre before their huge success. The album has a very relaxed feel, with most of the tracks with a slower tempo.

There are no "Ms. Jackson" or "So Fresh So Clean" on this one, but "ATLiens" is certainly in the same league as those songs.

The Skinny: If you want to be a serious Outkast fan, you'll need this record to see how they got to where they are now.

Well kids, you missed a good show at the Circuit Tuesday night.

The Hightlights:

• The Circuit was completely mohawk-free
• Aaron's dad was there and he was packing heat (the show was in Midvale)
• One of the high school-aged band's dad was very drunk and operating not only a big redneck truck, but also a video camera. I don't know which is scarier.

Sutang Hearts Shaq

I was checking out MusicVideoCodes.com for the first time today. I was quite impressed by the selection. Browsing through the "S" section, I found some unlikely hits including Saves the Day, Samiam, Saigon Kick and even Shaquille O'Neal.

Now, I must admit that I haven't paid much attention to Shaq's music career since he hit Yo! MTV Raps with his 1993 debut Shaq Diesel. But I must say that I was surprised today when I found out that the Man of Steel has 5 full-length albums. Who knew? You've got to hand it to the fella for not giving up on his dreams.

The video made me think about something that for whatever reason, I spend entirely too much time thinking about: Nate Dogg.

Odds are pretty good that if you have listened to 10 rap songs in the past 10 years, that 8 of them feature a chorus sung by Nate Dogg, a la "Regulators." Choruses - that's all the guy does. Talk about a niche market!

Snoop's cousin Nate (you know they're related, they have the same surname. Duh.) has made hits with Snoop, Warren G, Dre, 50 Cent, and even the dead version of Tupac. Songs featuring Nate Dogg have sold a total of 65 million copies. Are you kidding me?

Okay, music world. Are you ready for this? I have figured something out. These songs, er, choruses, they're all the same! They're all frickin' "Regulators!" No one cares. Everyone loved "Regulators."

I figure the average Nate Dogg day goes something like this:

10 am -- wake up.
noon -- write a one-line chorus
1 pm -- record that chorus
2 pm thru remainder of day -- lie on sacks of money

Check out a Shaq Video (ft. Nate Dogg OF COURSE!!)

Johnny Tight Lips Show

But I Love "Chef"

The other day I was discussing my love for the accordian with a few of my co-workers. That led me to think about a Chef Boyardee commerical from a few months back - with the mom and little girl at the grocery store. If you haven't seen it, the mom says she's not buying the girl anymore Chef Boyardee and the girl says sadly, "But I love Chef." The can of Chef Boyardee then falls of the shelf, and to the girl's eventual bliss, follows her all the way home.

Well, I'm sucker for that little girl loving "Chef" so much, but the reason I was thinking about the commercial is because the coolest accordian song plays while the can is making the long journey from the grocery store the girl's house. I got so nostalgic for the commercial that I looked all over the internet to see if I could find it. I didn't have any luck, but I did find that some folks to had some VERY strong feelings about it.

The following story [from the workout diaries] just about killed me:

Exhibit #3,584,962 proving I might be sort of weird

This post about Chef Boyardee at the Donut made me think about something that's been bugging me for a while.

In the interest of full disclosure, I should mention that I HATE Chef Boyardee. It makes me gag. If I'm going to eat processed pasta, it's Spaghettios all the way.

That aside, you know that commercial? The one where the mom and the little girl are in the grocery store? No? Well, the plot goes a little something like this: Mom and Girl walking the processed pasta aisle at the supermarket, and Girl picks up a can of Chef Boyardee. Mom says, "No, honey, we've had Chef every night this week." Girl says, "But I love Chef." Being a obedient girl, though, she puts the can back on the shelf. After they have walked away, the can rolls off the shelf and follows them through the store...then into the parking lot and down the highway, and eventually into their house. Cut to the inside of the house, where Girl is sitting on the floor in the family/living room doing...something, and Mom calls from the kitchen, "What do you want for dinner?" Just then, the stalker can of "Chef" rolls into Girl's leg, she picks up the can, looks at it, and smiles knowingly. End of commercial.

Now, I have a few problems with this.

1. "We've had Chef every night this week." Seriously? Who's running that house? Because I'm telling you...it must be a cold week in hell if I serve canned pasta every night for a week. Sure, I work all day, I'm not even all that fond of cooking, and Noah does have a deep and abiding love for Spaghettios...but EVERY NIGHT? Sure, it's got all those vitamins injected into it, so it's sort of quasi-healthy. But...every night?! Besides which, that mom doesn't have the sort of figure one would associate with someone who eats canned spaghetti regularly.

2. "Chef." "Chef?" I do not know a single person who calls Chef Boyardee "Chef". If it's nicknamed at all, we shorten to the type of mushy pasta that's actually in the can--"ravioli", "spaghetti", etc. Is this like UPS's moronic plan to make everyone call them "brown"? Because I hate that too.

3. "What do you want for dinner?" Okay, you were just at the grocery store, lady. That was probably a question you wanted to cover there. Didn't you go in with some kind of plan? At the very least, something looked good while you were there. Surely you bought ingredients that you could throw together into some semblance of a meal. Though maybe I'm projecting here...this is a woman who had "Chef" every night that week, after all.

4. The cliffhanger ending. So many unanswered questions. Okay, Girl's smiling at the can of "Chef", so presumably she is going to suggest to her decision-impaired mother that they should have Chef Boyardee again. Um, didn't Mom put the kibosh on that plan while they were at the store? That's going to go over well. Not. Especially since they didn't actually BUY the "Chef". This is how I like to imagine the resulting conversation would go:

Girl brings can of pasta into kitchen.

"How about this?"
Mom sighs. "No, I already told you at the sto--Wait! Where did you get that?! We didn't buy any! Did you steal it?!"
"Um, no...it just bumped into my leg just now." Tears well up in her eyes.
"It bumped into your leg? From where?"
"In the living room. I don't know...it was just there."
"What, it just followed us home all by itself, eh?! Don't lie to me!"

After that, Girl probably bursts into tears, and Mom sends her to her room to think about why it's wrong to steal a can of craptastic pasta from the supermarket. (If everyone stole "Chef", you see, the grocers would lose money and then have to raise their prices to compensate, and therefore it hurts us all.) And despite being completely innocent, Girl goes to her room as she's told, spending a miserable evening crying and wondering if she's crazy. The neighbors hear the yelling and the crying, call CPS...well, maybe I've gone a bit too far here.

At the very least, Girl has some serious 'splaining to do.

Hooray for Holland

In sports-that-are-only-popular-in-Europe news:

Here's something for Dutch folk to get excited about. Two Dutchies scored to high enough to qualify for the World Championship of Trampoline Jumping! The Chinese are the favorites to take the cup.

Not Disappointed

Streetlight was absolutely AMAZING! A full review to follow...

Thug Life & Fake Death, R.I.P. Tupac

September 13 marked the 9 year anniversary of the death of Tupac Shakur. Here's the thing about Tupac, not only was he the best rapper in the game when he was alive, he's still the best rapper in the game today. You have got to hand it to a guy who recorded so much material before he died that there have been more Tupac albums of new material released posthumously than humously (is that a word?).

One drawback of releasing records after you're dead, is that you do lose some creative rights. Since his death, Pac has been teamed up with the likes of Eminem, Nate Dogg, and, umm, Elton John. I had forgotten all about the Elton/Tupac track "Ghetto Gospel" until happened to be listening to "Now That's What I Call Music Vol. 61" today(that's right in the UK, they're up to volume 61). Normally I would said that this would cause Tupac to spin in his grave, but since I believe he faked his death, I guess that I should say he's in the Cayman Islands counting his bags of money.

R.I.P. Tupac!

Streetlight Manifesto: Live @ Lo-Fi Cafe

It’s hard to believe that it’s only been two years since Streetlight Manifesto dropped “Everything Goes Numb,” by far the best ska record released in this millennium.  I have not-so-patiently waited while the band has booked, and then cancelled, Salt Lake City on their last two tours of the left side of America. 

Oh, of course they had their excuses for leaving me hangin’ From their website, “[We] also wanted to mention a few firsts coming up on the next tour: 1) Show in Salt Lake City (we've had a freakishly bizarre series of events that always prevented us from playing there) (and to that kid that keeps writing in, cursing us off for hating his city, calm down kid, take your Ritalin, we're on the way.)” 

This time they really came.  “Hello Salt Lake City,” lead singer Tomas Kalnoky greeted the crowd of 300+ at the Lo-Fi Café, “we finally made it.  It’s about [expletive] time.”  The seven piece band opened with a short instrumental intro and then kicked into “A Moment of Violence” that worked the crowd into a frenzy.

It wasn’t really necessary for Kalnoky to have a microphone.  It was hard to hear his lyrics over the crowd singing every word as the band pounded out hits like “We are the Few,” “A Moment of Silence,” and “That’ll Be the Day.”  Every song was danceable, singable, rejoicable. 

After teasing the crowd with 15 seconds of a new song, Kalnoky told fans that this would be their last chance to hear all of the “Numb” material and that they would be returning in early 2006 with songs from a new album.  He also hinted at new material from side project Bandits of the Acoustic Revolution.  Streetlight even gave a nod to their former band, Catch 22, playing the first two verses of “Point-Counterpoint” and then transitioning into Catch 22’s “Keasbey Nights” before returning to the last verse of “Point.”

After playing all but one track off of “Numb,” Streetlight bid Salt Lake goodnight.  The encore began about 30 seconds later, with repeating guitar chords coming from offstage, building until the band returned to the stage with “If and When We Rise Again.”   

 The show was worth the wait. 

September Consumption

Music

John Vanderslice - Pixel Revolution
Good Riddance - Ballads of the Revolution
Kanye West - Late Registration
Whole Wheat Bread - Minority Rules
Bayside - S/T
Fountains of Wayne - Out of State Plates
Screaming Trees - Ocean of Confusion

Books

How to Be Good by Nick Hornby
From Pieces to Weight by 50 Cent
Persepolis 2 - Marjane Sartrapi

A World of Disillusion

My entire world view has been shaken. I was watching Saved by the Bell: The Miss Bliss Years the other day. Miss Bliss was talking to Milo, the school custodian, and he said something like, "We work at the best school in all of Indianapolis."

What? What about Bayside? Am I to believe that between junior high and high school, Zack, Lisa, Screech and Mr. Belding all moved from Indiana to California? Everything I know about life, I learned from Saved By the Bell. If they lied to me about where these kids were going to school, I don't really know what I can believe anymore.

A Year on the Streets: The Sutherland Manifesto Celebrates its First Birthday

After a long, cold Utah winter, everyone around here is always over-anxious for spring to come.  That’s why when the thermometer hits 60 degrees everyone starts throwing on their shorts and laying out on their still-dead lawns.  It’s still cold outside, but not freezing, which is certainly something to be excited about. 

It was on a 60-degree day in April 2004 that was I sitting in my backyard with my pant legs rolled up, working on my tan, and reading a book called “Tales of a Punk Rock Nothing” by Abram Shalom Himelstein and Jamie Schweser.  It’s all about a Jewish, straightedge vegan kid who moves to DC and gets heavily involved the political hardcore scene. 

What I found most interesting was that the narrative is written completely in the form of letters and ‘zines (homemade punk magazines generally distributed at concerts, the way-cooler precursor to blogs).  It immediately made me think back to when I was playing in a band in high school.  I started missing photocopied ‘zines and punk rock cassette tapes recorded in basements and all that good stuff. 

I would have been fine with the feelings of nostalgia, but more than anything I was feeling a bit disappointed with myself.  I started thinking about how in high school I was writing and playing music, writing poetry and making killer movies (remember “The Adventures of Choo-Choo and Cho-Cho San?”  Masterpiece.).  Where had all of my creativity gone? 

There’s only so much satisfaction one can derive from mowing a lawn or cutting someone’s hair, since it will eventually just grow back. I am obsessed with producing permanent, tangible things.  I always feel like I need to be "making" things and I really like the idea of creating something that wasn’t there before. 

Before I read “Punk Rock Nothing,” I had already been deedling with a new format for journal writing.  I was doubting that my posterity was really going to be interested in the bland, daily reporting style of my journal, so I started writing about my life in newsletter form.  There were news stories, features and sidebars with lists of TV shows we watch and folks we hang out with.  But reading the book gave me a new idea.

I had taken a web design course at the U a year earlier, and since I still had access to the web space, I decided to combine my journal with some ‘zine elements – record reviews and whatnot – and publish the thing online. And, hence, the Manifesto was born. 

***

Monday morning: You walk into work, sit down, and your coworker says, “What’s new? How was your weekend?”  Odds are pretty good that you didn’t really do anything too out of the ordinary or life altering; nevertheless, it’s easy to give a response. 

Tuesday morning: You’re buying a 250-roll bag of toilet paper at Wal-Mart and you see someone you haven’t seen since high school.  “What’s new?  I haven’t seen you in eight years.”  You draw a total blank.  You can’t think of anything you’ve done in the past eight years at all.  “Uh, nothing.  Absolutely nothing’s new.”

Thinking back over the past year, it doesn’t seem like a whole lot has happened in my life.  But I recently perused the Manifesto Archives, and it turns out I’ve done tons of stuff.  I graduated from college, experienced my first bank robbery, bought some cheap sunglasses in Tijuana, recorded my first techno song, listened to the new Megadeth CD, watched an extraordinary amount of television, won $7 gambling in Vegas and even changed my own oil.  I guess it was a pretty good year.

Even though I know that there is no one out there in internetland looking at their calendar saying, “When’s this month’s Manifesto going to be posted,” I still try to post a new “issue” every month (despite the fact that I every month I ask myself if it’s worth the trouble) and I appreciate all you folks who take the time to look it over.

Here’s to the next year on the streets… 

Dare I Get My Hopes Up?

I have my tickets for the Streetlight Manifesto show, but I am not sure that I should get my hopes up. Here's my recent history with the band:

Last summer, Streetlight booked their first-ever show in Salt Lake. I was out-of-my-mind excited for about two seconds until I realized the show was on a Sunday. Should I break my perfect streak of no Sunday concerts? I didn't have too much of a choice because Traci wouldn't let me go.

I was, of course, very blue. The day after the show I checked around the internet to see if I could find a review of the show. It turns out Streetlight's bus broke down somewhere between Denver and here and they never made it. I took this as a sign of the importance of Sabbath Day observance.

In February the band announced they would be playing the Ska is Dead tour. Here was the real Sabbath Day reward - not just Streetlight, but Streetlight opening for the Voodoo Glow Skulls! Yep, I had made the right decision to pass on the Sunday show.

In classic Voodoo Glow Skulls fashion - despite the fact that the SLC date was scheduled - the Ska is Dead tour made a last-minute decision to skip SLC entirely. Streetlight finished the tour, headed off to a European tour and I thought I had missed my chance. Their website said that after Europe they would stop touring and focus on a second album.

I guess I'm in luck. Recording plans have been postponed. They're scheduled for the Lo-Fi Cafe on September 14. Cross your fingers for me.

Dancing Nun, Thanks Belgium

Traci sent me a link to this story a few days ago with the comment, "This nun is still european and can't resist the techno beat."

The story was published all over the place, but it took me a really long time to track down the actual picture. I was hoping it would be more scandalous.

"Belgian sister Johanne Vertomme (L) 29, from Loppem, Belgium is seen dancing with Mark (no surname given), a missionary, during the Catholic World Youth Day, in Cologne Germany, August 20, 2005. The Belgian nun's acrobatic and indecorous dancing with the missionary during the Catholic World Youth Day in Germany over the weekend earned her a reprimand from her mother superior, a Belgian paper said August 22, 2005. "I wouldn't do this at home but at such occasions I get carried away by the enthusiasm of the group," the 29-year-old told the paper later. "My mother superior raised the issue today: she thinks I should watch out a bit and bear in mind that I represent our community," Vertommen said. Pope Benedict attended the celebration at the Marienfeld, outside Cologne, in the presence of some 700,000 people. Picture taken August 20, 2005. QUALITY FROM SOURCE BELGIUM OUT EDITORIAL USE ONLY NO THIRD PARTY SALES REUTERS/Stringer"

Spencer vs. George Bush

I was a bit disturbed when I read an article in Salt Lake Tribune about President Bush's visit to Utah today. I wasn't upset that the President was coming, nor was I upset that there were protests. I felt pretty much indifferent toward all of that. What bothered me, was the following:
"The president's schedule called for him to depart Utah immediately following his VFW Convention appearance and head to the tiny town of Donnelly, Idaho, where he was to spend a couple of days mountain biking and relaxing prior to a speech Wednesday before a National Guard group in Nampa, Idaho."

This is the third article that I've read this week about the President and his mountain biking. Now I admit, I am not always hangin' out with celebs like Shelley Osterloh, but my job still keeps me pretty busy. To complete my small number of responsibilities, I have to go to work basically everyday.

The President has a really important job. I would imagine that he has a lot more to worry about in his job than I do at mine. Why is it, though, he only has to go work maybe half of the time? I mean, he visits Veterans in Utah to promote Social Security reform for an hour and a half and then he needs to take two days off to go mountain biking in Idaho before he talks to Veterans there for an hour and a half? Something seems a little screwy here.

Previously:

George Bush vs. Seth Cohen
Michael Moore Comes to UVSC

Jeffery "Scrotum Bag" Barnes

Maybe the reason we don't have cable tv is because we don't want to be called names.

From Yahoo:

Wed Aug 17, 8:30 PM ET

CHICAGO - LaChania Govan said she got bounced around by her cable company when she called to complain. She made dozens of calls and was even transferred to a person who spoke Spanish — a language she doesn't understand.

But when she got her August bill from Comcast she had no trouble understanding she'd made somebody mad. It was addressed to "Bitch Dog."

"I was like you got to be freaking kidding me," said Govan, 25. "I was so mad I couldn't even cuss."

Govan said the only thing she did to Comcast employees that might be considered rude came after a few dozen calls when she felt she was treated shabbily. "I did tell them, 'You know what, it has to be a qualification to work for your company that you have to be rude,'" she said.

Govan said she talked to a supervisor and he offered her two months free service, which she turned down.

Finally Wednesday, about two weeks after she got her bill, somebody from the company left a message on her answering machine in which the caller apologized.

Comcast officials said it shouldn't have happened.

"We only use the actual customers names on the bill," said Patricia Andrews-Keenan, a Comcast spokeswoman.

Company officials went through the records and identified two people who were involved with the name change and fired them, Andrews-Keenan said. It's unknown why the employees did it.

In another case, Peoples Energy customer Jefferoy Barnes started getting letters addressed to "Jeffery Scrotum Bag Barnes."

"I had no bad words at all. I guess the earliest letter is dated in May and from then on up until now my name has been listed as Jeffery Scrotum Bag Barnes and I have no idea why."

Barnes said he received an apologetic call from a company official. He also has contacted an attorney to determine if he can take legal action.

A Peoples Energy spokeswoman called the letter inexcusable.

Spencer Hearts TV

(George Bluth and Richard Simmons demonstrating the infamous Corn Baller)

Hooray for TV. In anticipation of the upcoming Fall season, Fox has decided to run an episode from the second season of Arrested Development every night at 11 p.m. for two weeks in place of the worse-than-awful Dharma and Greg. If you missed the first week, don't make the same mistake next week!

Favorite quote from last night's episode:

Buster: (holding stuffed animals) These are my awards, Mother. From Army. The seal is for marksmanship, and the gorilla is for sand racing. Now if you'll excuse me, they're putting me in something called Hero Squad.

If that's not exciting enough news, Dutch public TV has started streaming the soap opera Onderweg Naar Morgen! UITEINDELIJK! What more can a brother ask for?

Family Reunion Fun

Over the weekend I had the opportunity of attending the annual Aagard Family Reunion (my mom's side of the family) . My grandpa and his twin brother, Welby, are both sheep ranchers and the reunion is always held at Welby's ranch.

When you're going to a reunion on a ranch it makes perfect sense to arrive on a four wheeler, which I did. It also makes sense that there are horses around for the kids to ride once they get there.

However, the reunion had some unexpected twists as well. For example, I wasn't expecting a hula hoop competition where I would learn that my mother secretly has wicked hula skills. I was also unaware that one of Welby's sons is a polygamist with two wives and 19 children and that three of his daughters would want to entertain the reunion crowd by tap dancing to "Cotton-Eyed Joe" and three subsequent remixes of "Cotton-Eyed Joe." I guess reunions are all about getting to better know your family.

"Preserving the Integrity of American Idol"

Breathe a sigh of relief, everyone. The Fox network has completed their all-important probe into the Corey Clark/Paula Abdul scandal. Fox says, “This decision to begin an inquiry was motivated by a profound commitment to preserve the integrity of the ’American Idol’ competition.”

Thank you. I have enough stress in my life and I don't exactly know if I could handle also having to worry about the integrity of American Idol. That might have just pushed me right over the edge.

Full Story

Johnny Tigthlips' First Show Ever

We played our first show the other night. If you weren't there, here's some of the things you missed out on:

• Us being the opening act for a band called Nokturnal Emission
• Arriving to a parking lot full of teenage mohawks and bondage pants
• Bondage pants being lowered in order to more easily urinate in the parking lot
• The drunk kid who is missing a front tooth and holding a harmonica asking me if I'll give him a dollar so he can buy another beer (the one he's holding is almost gone, and it's not even his - he's just holding it for somebody, he explains)
• Me telling drunk kid that I'd give him a dollar if he could play the best harmonica song in the world (song unspecified)
• Drunk kid playing a song on the harmonica
• Me telling him that it was not only not the best song in the world, but my least favorite song in the world, and that I was completely offended that he had played it
• Drunk kid looking very confused, and then asking me if I could please just give him a dollar
• Us going on stage, allowed to play a 30 minute set
• Us playing for 15 minutes and then promptly departing after our performance
• 50 people at the show: 10 inside, 40 outside getting busted by the cops for underage drinking

Midvale, Rock City

If you weren't at the Circuit last night, you missed the Johnny Tight Lips debut. Shame on you! The show was pretty rockin'. A full review will be posted on the Manifesto shortly. Stay tuned.

August Consumption

Music

Relient K--MMHMM
Death Cab for Cutie--Plans
Matt Sharp - S/T
Pennywise - The Fuse
Fountains of Wayne - Out of State Plates
Nada Surf - The Weight is a Gift
Bayside - S/T
John Vanderslice - Life and Death of an American Fourtracker


Books

A Long Way Down by Nick Hornby
Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs by Cluck Klosterman

Investors Wanted

Attention investors - Mike Neider has decided to buy the Utah Fun Dome, er, I mean the Salt Lake College, oops, I mean the Salt Lake Pavilion and return it to its original glory. That's right, Mike Neider is planning to return Murray's favorite gang-shootout to the Casey's Dugout, Blackbeard's Cove and Rollertown U.S.A. of yesteryear. That's right, he's going to bring back the 49th Street Galleria.

That's what he told me tonight, anyway, while we were celebrating Ty McHenry's imminent departure to Las Vegas at the run-down bowling alley at the Fun Dome. Mike's got big plans. Unfortunately, as he is waiting for his new career as an insurance salesman to start rollin', he will need some financial backing. So, for all of you nostalgic Murrayites out there, ya'll better back up your pride with some cash so Mike can make his dream come true. Come on, you know you want to.

Johnny Tight Lips vs. Metallica

So, Johnny Tight Lips has its first performance this week, playing with three other local bands (including one called Nocturnal Emissions). Aaron was the one responsible for booking the thing, and at band practice the other day he was filling Danny and me in on the details:

Aaron: There's three other bands and the tickets are $7.
Danny: SEVEN BUCKS!!! Who's the headling band, Metallica?!!!
Aaron: It's all local bands.
Danny: Who would pay seven bucks to hear four bands that suck?

Apparently, the maximum price that Danny would pay for a concert is $7.

Previously, Metallica vs. Oingo Boingo and Metallica Ruins Spencer's GMAT score

Anyone Up for a Vinegar Bath?

Traci and I spent the weekend in St. George. Believe it or not, even with my always-super-tan complexion, I sometimes get sunburned. After about an hour at the pool my skin was niceley toasted.

Fortunately, I remembered my friend and bandmate Aaron mentioning how he had used vinegar as a sunburn remedy. I think he said, "It takes away the sting and helps prevent peeling." What a commercial.

So Saturday I found myself in the bathtub of the condo, rubbing vinegar all over myself, wondering if it was possible to die of vinegar inhalation, and feeling a strange craving for Lays Salt and Vinegar potato chips.

It actually worked pretty well. I didn't think to put any vinegar on my head, which was also pretty red, so the next night I took another vinegar bath. I thought I had showered off all of the vinegar smell until yesterday at band practice. We were rockin' down in the un-airconditioned basement and I started sweating. Sniff, sniff. Sniff, sniff. What's that vinegar smell? Apparently vinegar penetrates skin pretty good because I think I was sweating vinegar. Chips, anyone?

How was Alkaline Trio? I wouldn't know.

Alkaline Trio played at In the Venue last night with Death by Stereo and Rise Against. I bet it was a pretty good show. I wasn't there because Traci put the hammer down and said that now that I am a soon-to-be father I am not allowed to go to concerts by myself anymore. (You know how the news is just FULL of kids getting killed at Alkaline Trio shows) Since my concert buddy Ty - living in Logan, and soon to be living in Las Vegas - is unreliable at best, I've got no one to go to shows with. I wanted to go so bad that I begged one of my 15-year-old scouts to go with me. He didn't think that his dad would let him go.

Let this be something to consider for all of you out there thinking about having children.

Oingo Boingo is the New Metallica

If you have ever walked into a guitar store you know that one thing is inevitable: someone will be playing a Metallica guitar solo at full volume. I would imagine that any second of the day someone is playing the beginning of "Unforgiven" or massacring "One." That's how you impress people in a guitar store.

The other day I was at Guitar Center looking at tons of equipment that I'll never be able to afford when I saw a bespectacled fellow in his early 20's trying out a keyboard. What do you play when you try to impress people of your skills when you're playing the keyboard, the geekiest instrument in the band? "Da da-da da-da-da da." Dead Man's Party by Oingo Boingo. Oingo Boingo, it's the new Metallica.

Spencer vs. Cable Television--Pt. I

If you are one of the few people in this world that I haven’t bored with my thoughts about cable television, then you are very lucky.  Unfortunately, that luck is about to run out: 

After living in a cable-less house for 18 years, I was ecstatic to finally have regular MTV access at my first college apartment.  So you can imagine how upsetting it was to find that by 1998 the only thing on MTV was Road Rules and Master P’s “Make ‘Em Say Uhhhh” video. 

Traci had the opposite experience growing up.  The only time that she was stuck with network television was the two years she was at the U.  When we got married there was absolutely no money in the budget for cable TV.  We inherited a 1983 Zenith television from Traci’s parents and we spent $12 on a bunny-ear antenna.    

This set up works okay – if you’re only into watching one channel.  We figured that Fox would be our one channel, which explains why we watched the entire season of Paradise Hotel and Joe Millionaire Part 2. 

Now that we are slightly less poor (before we become significantly more poor when the baby comes), Traci strongly feels that we need to join the more-than-five-channels world.  Apparently she’s tired of having to perfectly position the bunny ears toward the swiftly passing TV waves in order to see anything more than a slightly-decipherable, fuzzy image.   

I am not opposed to cable TV.  I think it would be nice to watch Sports Center and reruns of Who’s the Boss.  Here’s my problem.  I don’t really think it’s worth $40+ a month.  Since I’m not used to paying for TV, I think that if I started paying now I would feel like I have to come straight home from work everyday and watch TV until I go to bed, you know, so I could get my money’s worth.   And somehow, I don’t feel like adding more TV to my social diet is really what I need.   

With that said, I’m always working on ways to get cable without having to PAY for cable.  With the wonders of the internet, I was sure I’d be able to figure something out.  I made some progress - I learned how to download specific shows, but that’s only for network TV.  I have tried and tried to find VH1’s Best Week Ever to no avail. 

After I moved on from that idea, I started thinking about ways to at least get my network TV to come in clearly.  I decided that I needed one of those big antennas that go on the roof.  I didn’t really want to go this route because I would have to get the thing attached to my roof and then figure out a way to run the antenna cable into my house without drilling a big hole in my ceiling.  But what other choice did I have? 

My first stop was Wal-Mart.  They didn’t have the roof antennas.  I drove across the street to K Mart.  Nope.  I didn’t dare say to a K Mart employee, “Um, where are your rooftop antennas?” for fear they would answer, “A roof antenna? I don’t think they even make those things any more.   Why don’t you just get cable?” I didn’t ask a Wal-Mart employee because I have never once asked a question that hasn’t ended up in the employee saying, “I don’t know, let me ask someone else,” and then this being repeated with three more employees who never know the answer.   

When I was sure there was no hope, my television prayers were answered.  At this point I must mention that the people that lived in our house before us had DishNetwork.  The dish is still on the side of our house.  They couldn’t afford the rent, but they could afford the dish.  Huh.  I was walking down the aisles at Home Depot when I saw that they not only had rooftop antennas, but antennas that fit right onto a satellite dish.  I could just clip the antenna on and use the existing cord that goes into our house.  Perfect!  I gladly shelled out the $75. 

I nearly killed myself getting onto the roof and then again as I tried to hook the antenna up to the dish.  Traci hollered encouragements like, “Don’t fall off the roof.  I don’t want to have a fatherless child.”  After I got it hooked up, I almost killed myself getting back off the roof. 

I went into house and thought that the only thing left to do was plug the TV into the satellite box.  I went to hall closet and opened the top drawer, where the box had been sitting for the last three years.  Not there.  Not there?  Where could it be?  My heart dropped.  I vaguely remembered an internal debate I had had about a year ago.  I was cleaning out said hall closet and thought, “is there any reason why we might need this box?  No, I can’t possible imagine why we would.”  Then there is any even more vague memory of me chucking the box into the garbage.  Not trusting my own memory, I looked through the entire house for the thing.  Nowhere.  Stupid accurate memory.

In desperation, I tried connecting a cord straight from the wall into the back of the TV without the help of the dish box.  Believe it or not, the picture was even worse than with the bunny ears.  Television, I hate you so bad.  It’s lucky that you’ve got The OC on your side or this relationship would be over!

So I find myself back to where I was before.  Cable: 1, Spencer: Nothing. 

Imogen Heap - Speak for Yourself

Just when I thought Seth was never going to hook up with Alex (this is before she had the lesbian romance with Marissa), she kissed him in an empty, darkened Bait Shop.  The whole event was made even better by the perfectly poppy “Goodnight and Go” by Imogen Heap playing in the background.  The second the episode ended, I found the song and downloaded it. 

I checked out Imogen’s website and found that the song was from a forthcoming album, so I had to settle for her solo back catalog.  Major disappointment.  Instead of girly pop fit for The OC, I found angry Alanis Morissette girl rock fit for the trash can.  I chalked “Goodnight and Go” up as an anomaly.  

That’s when The OC dared me to give her another shot.  As Cal lay in his coffin and the Newportians donned their sexiest funeral wear, Imogen delivered the nothing-but-vocoder ballad “Hide and Seek.”  I found myself scrambling to the computer for the second time.   

The full album, Speak for Yourself, has finally been released and I took a chance on it, knowing it could be awful.  Fortunately, Immi seems to have shed her angry past and focused her energy on creating beautifully sultry girl music.  The album is full of subdued beeps, xylophones, mid-tempo drum machine beats and vocals, creating hypnotizing tracks like “Headlock” and “Loose Ends.”  Speak for Yourself runs out of steam by the end, but not before making me want to rent season 2 of the The OC.   

Great For: TV teen dramas and the 25-year-olds who watch them. 

From Reuters:

"A military report presented before the Senate Armed Services Committee' Senate Armed Services Committee stated the Saudi man, described as the "20th hijacker" slated to have participated in the Sept. 11, 2001, attacks on America, was forced by interrogators to wear a bra and had women's thong underwear placed on his head.

U.S. interrogators also told him he was a homosexual, forced him to dance with a male interrogator, told him his mother and sister were whores, forced him to wear a leash and perform dog tricks, menaced him with a dog and subjected him to interrogations up to 20 hours a day for about two months, the report said."

Let me just say this - is this the best we can do? Somehow I don't really think that someone who is willing to blow up hundreds of people is going to break down and confess to crimes by these interrogation methods.

SUSPECT: Okay, okay, I admit it! Just don't make me wear a bra anymore! I'll tell you anything, I just can't take one more day of wearing underwear on my head!

Kurt Cobain is Spinning in His Grave

I watched Rock Star:INXS last night. INXS is trying to find a replacement for the dead Michael Hutchins by auditioning really young, (mostly creepy) singers. The show was actually pretty interesting - basically a less annoying version of American Idol.

While some of the performances were good, Mig, pictured above, completely massacred "Smells Like Teen Spirit."

Kurt Cobain's commentary on Mig's performance: Yep, Beelzebub, this is hell. I can't handle this guy's scarf.

"I'm a Self-Contained Unit."

Of all the sights we visited in Seattle, the ones we found by accident were some of my favorite. How could a grunge fan go to Seattle without visiting scenes from the movie "Singles?" The pic on the left is of the Coryell Apartments in the gay district, where a bunch of the movie was filmed. Believe it or not, Traci and I found this place without a map! When we got out of the car I squinted and said, "Is that really it?" It looked different than I remembered. Traci reminded that "Singles" did come out 14 years ago. (The first thing I did when we got home was watch the movie. It was the same place, just a bit overgrown.) The picture on the right is the view from Gasworks park, also shown in the movie.

We also spent hours and hours trying to find the Fremont Troll, an enormous concrete sculpture under a bridge. Apparently everyone knows where the troll is, but is unable to really explain how to get there. Despite all of the bridges we drove under during our search, we were unsuccessful. Here's what we missed:














I was also disappointed to find out after we got home that there is a full-size statue of Lenin in front of a taco joint. I guess we'll have to make another trip to Seattle.

Breakfast at the Emphysema Cafe

John recommded that we eat breakfast at Beth's Cafe. Founded in 1954, Beth's is (supposed to be) a hip, dive-style diner. When we walked in and inhaled the stale smoke and sat down in a really beat up booth, we realized that it was more real dive than faux dive.

The only redeeming quality was that the walls are decorated with crayon drawings, interesting only because they're done by adults instead of kids. Click on the picture to see that we are sitting at the booth with the "G Unit: Cash Money Ho" drawing as well as the illustration about "sucking face."

(Outside of Beth's, you'll notice that we're getting into our pimpin' Mustang rental car. )

Snoqualmie Falls

We decided to venture outside of the city one morning to visit Snoqualmie Falls, about 35 minutes outside of Seattle. The waterfall drops 270 feet. From up top it's a beautiful view, but what makes it even better is that you can hike down the bottom.

Heading down is easy, it's a nice stroll through beautifully green trees. The way back up, however, is not so easy. Sweaty, sweaty, sweaty. I'll spare you the "after" photo.

Dancing Queen

Seattle, home of music and fashion. Right around the corner from the Seattle Center, two aspiring artistes dance their way into our hearts. I went directly to the closest store to by the shorts this boy was wearing. [click on the photos for a closer look]

Rappin' with Missy Misdemeanor

One of the highlights of the trip was the Experience Music Project. It has elements of a rock musuem, combined with interactive exhibits. The tour begins, of course, with a room dedicated to music from the Northwest. To illustrate how overblown grunge had become by '94, they had Pearl Jam and Nirvana comic books on display. (Kurt Cobain's character even had big muscles)

Traci's favorite was the TRL room - highlighting more recent pop acts like Christina Aguilera and Britney Spears. There was a station in that room where you could put on headphones and get rapping lessons. The voice of what sounded like a 3rd grade teacher would say, "Now you'll notice here that Missy Misdemeanor Elliott is using several different rhyming techniques..." After you had the rap lesson you were able to rap, karaoke-style in a mic on the console.

There was also a room upstairs where you could learn to play different instruments - guitars, drums, keyboards, guitar pedals, etc. For a mere $10 you can have 10 minutes of practice time, followed by 8 minutes of recording time in a sound booth to record whatever you'd like. The only drawback is that it's a completely live recording, meaning just one track. If I'd a had my band with me, I figure we could've knocked out an entire EP for about $30 bucks! Next time we're all in Seattle, I guess.

The museum also had a very cool Jimi Hendrix exhibit (Jimi was a Seattle native), a interesting-as-it-could-be exhibit about the not-that-intersting Bob Dylan and a room dedicated to early rap pioneers like Grandmaster Flash and Afrika Bambaataa. Well worth the $20 entrance fee.

The Smell of Seattle

Seattle has a very interesting smell. I think it's caused by the natural dankness of a wet climate, mixed with lots of fish. To cover up these two smells, every shop at Pike's Place Market burns a different flavor of incense. What a combination.

Despite the abundance of local restaurants all along the market and waterfront, Traci chose to eat lunch at Red Robin. We walked in the door and I thought, "Ugh, this place stinks like incense, too!" Upon further inspection, I realized it was me.

Grunge's Not Dead

Nearly 15 years after the beginning of the Seattle rock explosion, I am finally making my grunge pilgrimage. In my little dream world, my experience would be just like the movie Singles - I would sit at a coffee shop with Pearl Jam and we'd go to a club where Soundgarden would just happen to be playing.

Well, thanks to Seattle radio, grunge lives on. Seattle obviously its hometown boys. We heard lots of the following:

Nirvana
Pearl Jam
Temple of the Dog
Mad Season
Alice in Chains
Chris Cornell
Soundgarden

and even some non-grunge locals:

MxPx
Vendetta Red
Harvey Danger (a band that Seattle should disown)

Death Defying

Jealous of Traci's meteorology skills, I also decided to look into new career options. I am now planning on joining the circus as the guy that rides a bike around a ring 30 feet above the ground.

Traci the Weather Lady?

Traci enjoyed the Seattle weather so much that she has decided to quit the library go into the fascinating field of meteorology. [Click on the pic for a full size image.]

Virtual Superstar

My brother-in-law John grew up in Washington and went to college in Seattle. Thus he (probably against his will) became our trip advisor for our journey to the Pacific Northwest. When we told him we were going to the Seattle Center (home of the Space Needle and the 1962 World’s Fair) he recommended that we visit the Pacific Science Center. We made it the first stop.

After paying our admission, we quickly realized that we were the only adults there not accompanying a child. Did that stop us from having a good time? Oh, hell no!

This is a shot of me playing “Virtual Goalkeeper.” The 12-year-old workers may have thought that it was lame that I kept coming back to play again, but I had to beat the high score of the 11-year-old that was there with his grandpa. Don’t worry, I stomped him!

Look at the great form and the mad skillz.

June Consumption

It hasn't really been a very inspiring month for new music. I spent a little type catching up on some old crap.

Music
Decemberists - Picaresque
The Jimmy Chamberlin Complex - Life Begins Again
Pink Floyd - Dark Side of the Moon
Motion City Soundtrack - Commit This to Memory
Moby - Hotel
Mike Doughty - Haughty Melodic
MxPx - Panic
No Use For a Name - Keep Them Confused

Books

Devil in the White City by Erik Larson
The Shamer's Daughter by Lene Kaaberbol