I know it looks bad, but I can explain. I did post here, in front of God and everyone, a sort-of New Year’s resolution to recommit myself to this blog. Then several posts into the year I decided to upgrade to the latest version of Wordpress to further reaffirm my dedication. I even found a plugin that promised to make the process turnkey. It sounded too good to be true — and, of course, it was. All the plugin did was obliterate any trace of this site. I contacted my ISP support, who said they’d restore it from a month-old backup. Then they restored it — from a six-month-old backup. Hence, the appearance of radio silence around here.
Things are still a little buggy, but I’ll be doing my best to get this blog of life support in the next few weeks.
Supergrass Bassist In Superfreaky Accident
0 Comments Published September 2nd, 2007 in Music, Strange Happenings
I stopped by the official Supergrass Web site the other night looking for info on their upcoming album, when I saw this shocking news posting. Apparently, bassist/vocalist Mick Quinn sleepwalked out of a first-story window of the South of France Villa he was staying in with his family, breaking his back and crushing his heel. He’s undergone surgery to repair both and doctors are expecting a complete recovery. If you’re a fan, you might want to keep an eye on the band’s site for updates on his condition.
With some sadness, I resigned from my gig as a Gadget Lab contributor today. During my year and a half co-authoring GL, I saw it grow from one of Wired’s fledgling blogs to a powerhouse gizmo guide ranked in Technorati’s Top 250. Of course, I also got to ferret out and report on a gaggle of weird and wonderful gadgets (my favorite probably being the iCarta, a combination iPod dock and toilet paper dispenser).
But, alas, parenthood and a recent promotion at my day job have hoisted myriad new responsibilities on me, leaving me little time and energy to do any freelancing, let alone contribute to a daily blog. And frankly it’s become more important to keep the small parcel of free time I do have, you know, free. I’m sure my relationship with Wired will continue in some form — probably more conventional news features and reviews — but to GL and the world of daily blogging I bid adieu.
A friend showed me this video during a slow Friday afternoon at work. He was merely amused by the name of the game, but I instantly remembered this commercial from my childhood. Of course, it has a whole new meaning for me now. I’m not sure which part I love more — the way the voiceover breathlessly exclaims, “For adults it’s exciting!” or the knowing wink the wife gives the camera at the end after she’s busted her husband’s balls…
My pal Dan E. tagged me with this meme, and I am honor bound to complete it. Here goes.
First, the rules, always with the rules:
1.We have to post these rules before we give you the facts.
2. Players start with eight random facts/habits about themselves.
3. People who are tagged need to write their own blog about their eight things and post these rules.
4. At the end of your blog post, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names.
5. Don’t forget to leave them each a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog.
FACT: I am evangelical about hockey, but I came to the game later in life. When I was growing up in the ’70s, the NHL had about as much sports presence in Northern California as the Belgian Cricket Federation (Charlie Finley’s California Golden Seals notwithstanding). It wasn’t until the San Jose Sharks were founded in 1991 that hockey was even a blip on my radar, and my interest really came when I met my wife, who was a ticket subscriber for the Sharks first two seasons, turned me on to the game.
HABIT: I speak to my cats in a language of my own creation. Much like babies can reduce the most sober folks to gushing, goo-gooing fools, my adorable furry friends inspire me to babble unintelligibly. This “kitty language” can best be described as a hybrid of baby talk, Spanglish and the Huttese dialect from the Star Wars movies.
FACT: I was inspired to play bass by Paul McCartney, and I eventually bought a Rickenbacker 4001 like Paul McCartney’s but I do not play left handed because of Paul McCartney. Long before I even knew who the Beatles were, I had a plastic toy guitar that I used to play upside down because it felt most natural.
FACT: Though I love them now, when I was a kid scary movies scared me. They kept me up nights and I’d have to sleep with my bedroom door open with the hall light outside my room turned on. Hammer horror films were the worst. Their blend of Catholic iconography and cleavage did a number on my parochial-school psyche that still hasn’t been undone.
FACT: My wife used to date one of my best friends. They had a brief romance when she was 17 and we were 22; I used to give him endless grief for dating a “high school girl” and usually ignored her. Three years after they split, she and I were among a group he invited to a Halloween Party in the Castro. We ended up drinking beer and talking on the sidewalk in front of the party house all night. I asked for my friend’s blessing to ask her out and the rest, as they say, is history.
FACT: I believe I have jinxed at least two professional ballplayers:
—Minutes before the Giants last exhibition game of the 2004 pre-season, I was interviewing perennial call-up Chad Zerbe for a profile, when I said something to the effect of “You must be thrilled that you’ve finally made the starting roster.” Chad smiled nervously and informed me that they hadn’t yet made the final cut, then knocked a couple of times on the wood paneling of his locker. Five minutes after my interview, the Giants sent Zerbe down to the minors and he hasn’t played a major-league game since.
—Last May I was writing a feature on Giants starting pitcher Jamey Wright, who was the hero in a rotation plagued by injuries and was predicted to make good in San Francisco on long-unfilled promise, which was the angle of my story. He got shelled the day of my final interview with him and only won one more decision that year. He was released at the end of the season.
FACT: I have long harbored dreams of being a stay-at-home dad. In this vivid fantasy I revisit on trying days at the office, I drop out of the rat race, grow a beard and spend my days working on a book, cooking meals and playing guitar to my infant son.
FACT: I won two league sportsmanship awards, one in baseball and one in soccer. At the time, they seemed like consolation prizes, nowhere near as impressive as the championships and scoring titles. Now, these are the two trophies I’m most proud of.
Now I’ve got to tag eight people. Consider yourself tagged:
OK, I guess I don’t know eight bloggers I’m comfortable sending this to. Hopefully, I won’t incur years of bad luck.
Contrary to the hysterical warnings of several parents, fatherhood has allowed me to have some moments to myself. Here are some things I’ve been enjoying during my “me” time:
We Were Dead Before the Ship Even Sank — I’ve never been a Modest Mouse fan; to me their willfully angular bleat summed up all that was wrong with much of indie guitar rock in the ’90s. However, I am a huge fan of ex-Smiths guitarist Johnny Marr, and I’ll pick up anything featuring his elegant fretwork. The songs here are as dense as ever — as the title intimates, there is a nautical theme running throughout, though it’s inscrutable at best (I’m guessing Isaac Brock is using the sea as a metaphor for isolation and souls adrift). But Marr’s supple guitar work is an unlikely complement to MM’s frenetic rhythms and off-center melodic sense and offers multiple entry points in what could otherwise have been an impenetrable mess. This is the first Modest Mouse album I’ve ever bought, and now that Marr’s cameo has turned into a full-fledged membership, it probably won’t be the last.
Favourite Worst Nightmare — Given that I hate music industry hype, particularly the fickle British brand, I expected to reject Arctic Monkeys on principle. But, alas, I dug their first album and love this one even more. It doesn’t have the the myopic focus on Sheffield working-class youth culture that the debut had, no doubt because the band’s international success has given them a broader world view. But every thing else I loved about Whatever People Say I Am, That’s What I’m Not — snarling guitars, breathless rhythms, tart lyrics — is here, just better and more immediate.
“Rescue Me” — I look forward to the return of “Rescue Me” each summer with the same anticipation I do baseball, balmy nights and barbecues. Season Four kicks off tonight. Despite the nature of the 62 Truck crew’s day-to-day job, the real perils of “Rescue Me” threaten their emotional rather than physical survival, and on that score the end of Season Three left most of the characters in dire straits. I don’t know how Denis Leary and Peter Tolan are going to get them out of their respective predicaments, but I’m sure it will include plenty of side-splitting and emotionally wrenching moments along the way.
Apparently, when Snoop Dogg isn’t jumping NBA bandwagons, he’s pimping for the NHL. He’s been a fixture at Anaheim Ducks games since the postseason began last month. Here’s an interview with him during an intermission at Game 5 of the Western Conference Quarterfinals. Not surprisingly, he seems most enamored with the game’s league-sanctioned thuggery.
It hasn’t been lost on me that the number of Warrior fans — you can identify them by their yellow “We Believe” t-shirts — has grown exponentially since the team made the playoffs for the first time in 13 years. And it’s only gotten worse since they defeated the top seeded Dallas Mavericks to advance to the semifinals.
Here is a great look at the epidemic bandwagon jumping that’s been sweeping through celebrity circles as well as the general population. But really, you need look no further than these two pictures of Snoop Doog.
At the Warriors game last week:
At the 2004 semifinals:
One of my favorite TV shows during the last year has been Britain’s fantastical retro police drama “Life On Mars.” The show tells the story of 21st century Manchester detective Sam Tyler who awakens in 1973 after an accident; trapped and unsure if he’s “mad, in a coma or back in time,” he is forced to play along, struggling to adapt his modern sensibilities to the challenges of early-’70s police work while trying to find his way back to 2006.
I’ve been anxiously awaiting its second season, which has already aired in the U.K., but I was surprised to find out that season two marks the end of the show’s run.I wrote about “Life On Mars” here after it premiered on BBC America last July. I was immediately taken with the plight of the temporally displaced Sam, Philip Glenister’s brilliant portrayal of good-intentioned but ethically-challenged DCI Gene Hunt and the writers’ admirable restraint creating the show’s period detail — especially their ability to weave in classic tracks by Sweet, T. Rex., Thin Lizzy, Roxy Music and even Gilbert O’Sullivan without seeming like they were shoehorning them in to sell the soundtrack.
But as sad as I am to see Sam’s journey come to an end, I’m heartened to hear that the creators brought the show to a swift and (hopefully) satisfying resolution rather than let the incredible premise devolve into the kind of willful opaqueness that in the past killed my enthusiasm for shows like “X-Files” and “Lost.”
And though Sam’s story has reached it’s conclusion, apparently DCI Hunt’s goes on: this summer, the creator’s will begin shooting “Ashes to Ashes,” a sequel that catches up with Hunt in London in 1981 where he is joined by a modern-day police profiler who — you guessed it — finds herself transported to the past. Yeah, I’m suspicious of what sounds like a weak rehash of “Life On Mars,” but as Hunt always said when confronted about his questionable tactics, “Trust the Gene Genie…”
Note: I had also speculated in my original post that had an American network undertaken the “Life On Mars” premise, it would undoubtedly have been reduced to a “That ’70s (Cop) Show” pop culture pastiche. I guess we’ll find out if I was right when David E. Kelley’s pilot based on the U.K. series airs on ABC next season.
