Subdivided We Stand Meets Marathon Man

In Which I Respond To Your Responses

Wow, great response to yesterday's entry.  Let me explain...no, there is too much.  Let me sum up:

I asked you, the readers, to help me find some current music that I might like. The responses (and feel free to contribute more, if you like) all sound appealing, and one way or another I'm going to try them all.

Let's go through one at a time.  (I'll either post a bit of or summarize each suggestion, and then respond.)

1. Cornerstone, When I Was Born For the Seventh Time -- suggested by pointy stick.
   "Indian pop, along with a cover of the Beatles' "Norwegian Wood". In Hindi. It's odd, for sure, but it may also be the happiest cd you ever own. "
   

   Bob's Response:  Sold.  Looking forward to hearing this one.

2. OK Go, OK Go -- suggested by Cindy.
   OK Go is power pop with witty lyrics and great melodies. It sounds a bit like an electrically-charged fusion of the best early Elvis Costello and "Head On the Door"-era Cure. But it's sexier than that.
   

   Bob's Response:  Oh, you'd better believe I'm getting this one.  Loved the song and video on their home page.  They remind me of a less-sloppy and probably more sober Too Much Joy -- and I frikkin' LOVED Too Much Joy.

3. Joan Osborne, How Sweet It Is -- suggested by Sarah.
   I normally dislike covers, but this album is full of well done well chosen songs. Mellow, but still upbeat enough to be a good car album.
   

   Bob's Response:  Gotta be honest, I was a little iffy on this one.  Went to Amazon and listened to some clips, and STILL a little iffy.  Great song selection, though.  Sarah also recommended Peter Gabriel's Us.  I own and love every Gabriel-era Genesis record, and three of his solo outings (III, Security, and So), but kind of ignored Us when it came out.  We played Steam and Kiss That Frog on the teeny tiny a.m. alternative station in Monroeville where I worked, and I always liked both of those, so I'll give Us a shot.

4. Deadlytoque had a number of suggestions.  I know and like Colin Hay's stuff, and own a Nick Drake disc.  I've always thought that I should try Ben Folds, although all I know is that one single, which I didn't care for.  But I know that Folds is a big Elton fanatic, as am I, so we'll go with the Ben man.  (Hey, don't laugh -- there was a time that Elton John was great.  Try Honky Chateau or Tumbleweed Connection if you don't believe me.  Tumbleweed Connection would likely appeal to fans of Workingman's Dead-era Grateful Dead., and not just because they have similar sepia-toned covers.)
5. Paul Hannan, Pedal Hard -- suggested by Try it you'll like it.
   Listen to it a couple of times and you'll like it. It is one of the 2 CD's I own.
   

   Bob's response:  Had to do a google search to find this one -- it's available through cdbaby.  Just downloaded one song and I dig it.  Local guy.  Check him out.  There's some crossover here with members of Gathering Field and Rusted Root.  Rather than buying right off the bat, I'm going to make an effort to see him live -- provided there are still places in town that have local music.  There must be somewhere, right?

6. Fountains of Wayne, Welcome Interstate Managers -- suggested by Katie. 
   Power pop at its best.
   

   Bob's Response:  Sweet!  I'd heard "Hey Julie" a couple of times on WYEP, and wanted to find out who did it, but was far too lazy to research it and then it completely slipped my mind.  Buying this one.

7. Anthony, of the excellent Tunesmith and Anthony's Blog, checked in with a whole pile of stuff.  Jayhawks, The Jam and Smithereens I already have ("Town Called Malice" is one of Mrs. SubD's favorite songs, I think, and for some reason our two year old LOVES Smithereens.)  Funny that Anthony should mention Social Distortion -- I had one of their cd's in my hands during the trip to the store that inspired yesterday's entry.  I ended up putting Social D back and buying the new Son Volt instead.  Planning on trying one of A's other suggestions -- the Jeffrey Gaines sounds interesting.

Damn, that's a lot of cd's to buy.  I'll have to take a phased approach to these purchases.  I'll let you know how this all turns out. 

Happy weekend, kids!

Spend Bob's Money

At least a couple of times a week, I partake in my morning ritual of standing in front of our handy cd-towers, lost in thought.

What I'm thinking about is this -- why don't I have any cd's that I feel like listening to on my drive in to work?

Don't get me wrong, there's stuff in there that I love -- although more of the music that I REALLY love is on vinyl, and I still haven't figured out a way to hook up a turntable in my car.  But standing there during my morning ritual reminds me of an episode of M*A*S*H from one of its first couple of seasons (when it was actually funny).  In this particular episode, Hawkeye just about loses it because he's tired of the same meal, day after day.  (Liver or fish, as I recall.  Or more specifically, "I've eaten a river of liver and an ocean of fish.")

Eventually, Hawkeye stands up in the mess tent and begins chanting.

We want something else!  We want something else!

That's me, in front of my cd towers. 

I want something else!

Oh, sure, my favorite artists are well-represented.  Beatles, Neil Young, REM, Barenaked Ladies, Elton, various and sundry discs of great, good and mediocre pop, classic rock, and 80's and early 90's alternative.  But still...

I want something else!

It pains me to say it, but I've reached a level of geezerhood where what the kids like is the polar opposite of what I like.  At the same time, I'm sure there's boatloads of new music out there that I'd like -- if only I had the time to seek it out.

But I don't.  And that's where you, the valued Subdivided We Stand readers, come in.

I've listed a few of my favorites from years past above.  More recently, I've liked Son Volt, a little bit of Vertical Horizon (in spite of the fact that I think they're N'Sync with guitars), ummm...jeez, not a whole lot else.  Gathering Field (a Pittsburgh band that should've made it nationally, and would've, too, had they released Lost in America 20 years earlier), ummm...Counting Crows...Matthew Sweet. 

I have no idea what all of that adds up to.  I love power pop, that's for sure.  Rock with an emphasis on melody.  Make sense?

So there you have it.  A bit about my tastes.  Now I'm asking you to help an old guy who's totally removed from popular music out.  Give me the name of one album from the past five years that you think I'd like. 

And I'll buy it.  In the unlikely chance that I get a lot of responses here, I'll rely on your description as to WHY I'd like it -- or why YOU like it, and then purchase the top five or so that appeal to me.  One small request -- since the vast majority of my musical experiences these days come in the car, I would ask that you give me something rather upbeat.  Not that I don't like the more sensitive singer-songwriter types of stuff, but unfortunately I've always found that that sort of music requires more attentive listening in order to really connect with it.  And these days, I just don't have either the time or the attention span.

Oh, and in closing, I'd like you all to settle another musical dispute between Mrs. Subdivided and myself.  Specifically, which band do you think is worse -- Toto or Poison?

Ctrl A, Ctrl C, Ctrl V

I HAD a topic for tonight...but meh...not feelin' it.

So instead, allow me to select, copy, and paste somebody else's content right here on the only blog that loves you back:

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WHAT: Pittsburgh Blogfest 3 WHEN: Thursday, August 11th 2005, 5:30 PM to 9:30 PM and beyond! WHERE: Finnegan's Wake (near PNC Park, 20 General Robinson St., North Shore, 412-325-2601), in the Pub Room WHO: All of you bloggers! AND: Creating Text(iles), Inner Bitch, My Brilliant Mistakes, and Grabass. NOTE: No baseball game that night, so you won't have to fight the traffic! If you are planning on attending, please RSVP to blogfest (AT) closkey [DOT] com! Come meet your fellow bloggers at Finnegan's Wake. This is a purely social event; it will be utterly without agenda, structure, or redeeming value. Please join us! (* Non-alcoholic beverages are also available, of course)

While yours truly hasn't officially RSVP'd for the above event yet, I'm planning on attending.  So if'n you're a blogger...or even if you're a wannabe blogger...c'mon down and have some fun.  Especially if you're one of those bloggers listed over there on the right side of this page.  I've corresponded with a handful of you (Ol' Froth & Tube City & a couple of others, I'm looking your way here) and would love to say hello in person.

Tomorrow...I wax unpoetic about how much more fun it was to buy albums than it is to buy cd's.  Plus, several lucky readers will have the opportunity to tell me what cd's to buy.  You suggest, I buy.  That's the deal.

Left Behind

There's a public school in the inner city, in Chicago, where there's no money to buy the little things -- like pencils, notebooks, or textbooks that date from this century or even the decade that preceded it.

My co-worker's daughter teaches there.

Now we could debate all day as to whether or not any children in this country are being left behind, but at the end of the day, we'd all just be a little more pissed off at each other and nothing would be solved.  Those kids in Chicago still wouldn't have any goddamned pencils.

Instead, I'd like to share a quick story about just one of those kids -- a seventh-grade girl who confided in my co-worker's daughter that she was considering giving in to the requests that a certain young man, in her parlance a "playa," had been placing on her.

After talking it through for a while, this reasonably level-headed seventh grade girl came to the conclusion that no, she wasn't giving in.

However, she WAS considering finding someone to get her pregnant.

Now why, you ask, would a seemingly sensible seventh-grade girl -- practically a baby herself -- want to have a baby of her own?  That's just the question that my co-worker's daughter asked her.

The answer, quite frankly, says more than anything any one of those kids could've written down on the notebooks they don't have with the pens that aren't there.

This seventh-grade girl -- which makes her what, twelve?  Thirteen?  This girl looked up and said:

I just want there to be somebody that loves me.

Thar She Blows

If I had to guess, I'd say that at most there have been, oh, 10 days in the last 30 years that I haven't read at least one newspaper.

So if you total that up, that means that I've read...oh...approximately a shitload of newspaper articles.

But in all that time of newspaper reading, I can honestly say that I've never been as puzzled by a story as I was by this one, which appeared under the banner of "Product Recalls" in last Friday's Post-Gazette.

Value City Department Stores is recalling about 300 African blow dart guns. Consumers may have mistakenly purchased the dart guns thinking they were decorative walking sticks, posing the risk of injury if someone used the gun for its intended purpose.

The blow dart gun is a 51-inch-long decorative wooden tube with an attached pouch containing five darts. The brown, bamboo-shaped gun has a black, small barrel-like container attached to the top.

Value City stores sold the item from June through July 1 for about $5.

Consumers should secure the blow dart gun and darts and return them to any Value City store for a full cash refund.

In fact, not only do I have questions, I have at least one question per sentence.  To wit:

• Value City Department Stores is recalling about 300 African blow dart guns. 
  Value City sells African blow dart guns?  Is that legal?  What would be the purpose of owning a blow dart gun?
• Consumers may have mistakenly purchased the dart guns thinking they were decorative walking sticks, posing the risk of injury if someone used the gun for its intended purpose.
  We're concerned about people who might've bought this product for the WRONG reason?  Shouldn't we be a little more concerned about people who bought an African blow dart gun for the purpose of owning an African blow dart gun?
• The blow dart gun is a 51-inch-long decorative wooden tube with an attached pouch containing five darts. 
  Should we be concerned that there are people out there among us who apparently believe that walking sticks come equipped with five darts?
• The brown, bamboo-shaped gun has a black, small barrel-like container attached to the top. 
  I have to confess that I don't really have a question about this particular sentence, although I suppose I could ask about the purpose of the container.  Yes, that'll do.  What's the purpose of the container?
• Value City stores sold the item from June through July 1 for about $5. 
  You mean any yahoo with a fiver could've walked into a Value City last month and come out with a potentially lethal weapon? 
• Consumers should secure the blow dart gun and darts and return them to any Value City store for a full cash refund. 
  How, exactly, does one "secure" a blow dart gun?  Continually remind oneself not to put a dart in the gun and then blow it at somebody?  I can just imagine that ride back to the store:  Let's see, let's see, what is it that I'm supposed to remember?  "Oh yeah, don't put a dart into this walking stick and blow it at somebody.  Hey, lookie there -- new Taco Bell!  Hey, I wonder if this dart would fit into my walking stick.  Hey, how bouts I blow this at that dude.  Pffft.  Oops!"

Incredibles -- Too Scary

For the past six weeks or so, The Incredibles has been the new Shrek.  Adam would've been happy if it ran on a continuous loop in our house. 

But about a week ago, he started asking us to skip parts.  Basically, anything involving Syndrome or the OmniDroids had to be skipped.

Last night, we had to skip about 3/4 of the movie.  At long last, we've finally realized that The Incredibles is a little to intense for a two-year-old.  We probably should've never let him watch it in the first place.

(Julie and I saw it in the theater when it first came out, and I think I gave it only a moderate thumbs-up.  I've since come to appreciate it a lot more -- it's pretty damn good.  I want their house, which is decorated in -- oh -- I can't put a name on that style, but it's generally from the late 50's or early 60's.  And the scene where Dash learns that he can run on water kicks arse.)

The good news is that we've learned that On Demand on our cable carries Bob the Builder and Thomas the Tank Engine, so we can just run one of those babies whenever Adam needs a tv fix.  Which we're going to try to minimize, by the way.  This article really bugged me, although I'm sure you could find similar articles about every generation going back to caveman times.  TV is the enemy.

One thing I forgot in yesterday's Mary Worth primer was to link to Mary Worth online, where you can read the past month's worth of strips.  Rock on, Mary Worth.

Mary and Me -- A Love Story

Never let it be said that I don't aim to please my public.

If you scroll back a couple of days and read the comments section for Monday's entry, you'll see that valued reader "Smokey" has requested a bit of a primer on the phenomenon that is Mary Worth.  And since job, freelance gig, and kids are all combining to make this week a doozy, and I haven't had so much as a second to think about what to write about, a Mary Worth primer it is.

There are plenty of good sources for the history of the Mary Worth strip, but this one sums it up pretty well I think. 

It seems as though the origins of the Mary Worth strip are a bit in dispute.  What we do know for sure is that during the depression, there was a strip called "Apple Mary," which was about an elderly lady named Mary who cared for her handicapped nephew by selling apples from a push cart.

In 1938, Apple Mary's creator retired, and the strip's publisher hustled out a replacement featuring our hero, Mary Worth.  The publisher insisted that Mary Worth was NOT Apple Mary, but I've seen a few of the very early Mary Worth's, and if they weren't the same person, then they were identical twins.

Ever since yours truly was a young lad, I've been a religious reader of the comics page.  I think I read every comic in the Pittsburgh Press comics section every day from third grade through, well, the day they ceased to publish the Pittsburgh Press. 

There were a lot of lesser lights in that collection.  Priscilla's Pop.  Tiger.  The Born Loser.  Tumbleweeds.  Frank n' Earnest, and many more.  I remember the debuts of Shoe, Drabble, Garfield, and a lot of other dreck -- along with the debuts of Far Side, Calvin & Hobbes, and a few other greats.

A few of those  strips have disappeared, but most continue to struggle on -- in spite of the fact that they wrung out their last laugh and last bit of creativity decades ago. 

But there was always one type of strip that I avoided.

The serials.

The Press, as far as I can remember, ran Mary Worth, Judge Parker, Rex Morgan, and Dondi.  For some reason, I read Dondi, which was horrid -- I remember the final series of strips, which was all about Dondi's friends making fun of some handicapped kid.  The negative backlash was so strong that Dondi's creator just said "fark it" and dropped the strip mid-storyline after forty years.

Anyhoo, for no apparent reason, I started reading Mary Worth about six or seven years ago.  I forget the first storyline, but I think it was about a female journalist who hooked up with some sleazebag tv news dude.  Totally forgettable.

But shortly thereafter, we were introduced to a fellow who would forever cement my love of Mary.

Silas "Smitty" Smedlap.

I won't go into the details of Smitty's storyline, other than to say that he was a cantankerous old bastard who hated "feesh."  (I wasn't the only one who took notice of Smitty's awesomeness -- this fellow saw fit to name Smedlap one of 2002's Entertainers of the Year.)

I just realized that I really haven't provided much of a primer on enjoying Mary Worth, but I HAVE succeeded in blabbing on a lot about myself, which is much more satisfying I must say.

Anyhoo, as the King Feature's Syndicate Web site is fond of saying, Mary Worth the comic strip really isn't ABOUT Mary Worth, so much as it's about the rotating cast of characters who flow into -- and out of (albeit not quickly enough in some cases...ANNA TIEG I'm looking your way here...) Mary's life.

Mary Worth, according to her publisher, is a 60-ish widow who lives in "Charterstone," which appears to be a snooty gated community in Santa Royale, California.  For whatever reason, the apartment next to hers always appears to be empty -- which is quite convenient, since it allows whatever new character who has entered Mary's life to have complete access to her 24-7 meddling.

Mary herself rarely gets a storyline, although we do know that she dates a horiffically dull fellow named Dr. Jeff Corey.  Now Dr. Jeff has proposed to Mary on about 437 different occasions, but she keeps putting him off.  As far as we know,they've never even shared more than a meal at "The Bum Boat," -- which, inexplicably, is the name of their favorite restaurant.

The current storyline involves a nasty drunk lady named Rita, who Mary has known for approximately 2 weeks in Mary Worth time (which has stretched on for about five months in "real" time.")  Mary attended the funeral of a co-worker who she barely knew, and somehow ended up befriending the deceased's worthless mother. 

About two days later, Rita shows up at Mary's door, looking for a place to stay.  After a drunken night out, Mary tried to console a drunken Rita by showing her her "shrine" to her late husband.  A shrine which consisted of two cheap-ass Dollar Store-quality ceramic swans.

Which brings us up to last Friday -- when in a drunken stupor, Rita knocked over the swans and smashed them to bits.

And that's where we stand.  Speculation over at The Comics Curmudgeon seems to be that the smashing of the swans may lead to Mary finally getting over her dead husband and committing to Dr. Jeff.

Which would be a sickening turn of events, but par for the course in the topsy-turvy, crappy world that is Mary Worth.

The Young'uns

One of the many, many things I neglected to do during my sabbatical was to update the photo galleries.  I'll fix that soon.

But in the meantime, here are a couple of recent photos:

Young Miss Kate:

Young Master Adam:

Dig it.

Doctor, Doctor, Gimme the News

In my 42 years on this planet, I've done my fair share of soul-searching.

What's it all for?  What is the meaning of my existence?  Who am I, and why am I here?

At long last, I have an answer.

My entire life has been building up to the above -- Mary, Rita, and the shattered swans.  You may take me now, Lord.

-----

Meanwhile, we here at Subdivided Central are firm believers in acknowledging accomplishment  -- and so when one of my favorites receives his doctorate, well, that's news worth sharing:

Congratulations, Dr. Aahh!

For several years now, we've been enjoying the delicious Giant Eagle house brand pop (soda for you east coast heathens) known as Mr. aahh!  (And when I say "enjoy," I don't actually mean that we enjoy drinking the stuff.  No, what I really enjoy is going to parties -- the fancier the better -- and plopping down a 2-liter jug of this swill and announcing, as loudly as possible,  "Hey, guys, I brought the Mr. aahh!"  It works best if the Mr aahh! is set amidst a collection of high-fallutin' wines.)

 

As you may have guessed, "Mr. aahh!" is a generic knock-off of Mr. Pibb, which itself is a knockoff of Dr. Pepper.  Poor Mr. aahh! -- the lesser heir of a once-mighty lineage, as Tolkien might've said. 

But not today, my friends, not today.  For let the trumpets sound, let the bells ring out -- our once-humble Mr. aahh! has finally finished his dissertation (and apparently earned the right to capitalize his surname, as well) and taken his place among the learned Dr. Pepper imitators, a scholarly list that includes such luminaries as:

• Dr. A+
• Dr. Becker
• Dr. Best
• Dr. Blast
• Dr. Bob
• Dr. Cheaper
• Dr. Chill
• Dr. Cool
• Dr. Dazzle
• Dr. Fine (no word on if he's joined by Dr. Howard and another Dr. Howard)
• Dr. Gulpster
• And many more (I'm only through the letter "g" -- view the complete list here)

So congratulations, Mr....excuse me, DOCTOR Aahh!  Your perseverence in the pursuit of higher education is an inspiration to us all. 

I Think We All Suspected As Much

A little glimpse into the mind of a basset hound:

From the entertaining Fred Basset parody site.

-----

UPDATE

Meanwhile, over (or more specifically, over and down) in Fayette County (which I believe was the source for our recent "baby goat stolen and sold for crack" and also "man shoots wife because she won't do the dishes" stories), comes this:  T-ball coach has his own player hurt to keep him out of game.