Crunch Time

Here we are:  It's Thursday evening, January 31, 2008 and in little over 72 hours everything everyone has said about this goddamn football game won't mean a thing.  Everything will be settled somewhere in the Arizona desert on a field named after a fake university that exists only in cyberspace.  This means I'm running out of time.  Running out of time to run my mouth.  While my previous Superbowl-related posts have made a concerted effort to maintain a certain level of objective subjectivity, the hype that has since inundated my senses, mostly between wind sprints to the bathroom (see yesterday's post), has left me on the brink of madness.  So much so that, at this moment, 72 hours seems like an eternity.

If I hear how crazy Plaxico Burress is for predicting a Giants' victory one more time, I'm going to completely lose it.  The NFL is riddled with athletes who are  more than willing to speak up and out of turn at the drop of a hat.  A premier wide receiver who has actually shown up this post-season (yes, that's a jab at Randy Moss), during the week leading up to the biggest game of his life, and having been asked the same goddamn question 10,000 times by any one of the nameless, faceless, chubby, balding sports' media types, takes it upon himself to articulate a certain level of confidence?  Gasp!  Not every team is comprised to the same awe-inspiring degree of fraudulent panzies virtuosic in the art of choreographed misinformation that masquerading as class and modesty.    Obviously this is a team put together by Billy Bellichick.  And obviously his team's demeanor can with the media can be traced back to his doorstep (just follow the fucking trail of pretzels, potato chips, or anything else with salt, apparently).  Oddly, Randy Moss and Billy Bellichick are just about the only two people associated with that franchise that I can actually stomach.    If I am told, "Plaxico shouldn't have said anything," one more time by some cheesedick Tom Brady groupie, I'm going to rip someone's dick off (and it won't be mine).  "Look what happened to the other guys who made predictions!" I've been patronizingly urged.  What?  They lost?  Just a guess, seeing as the Patriots are undefeated.  Maybe if those sorry souls had just held their tongues, maybe the Patriots' record coming into this game would be more pedestrian?  Is that it?  The Patriots have won a few games this season because of locker room fodder unwittingly provided by players on otherwise superior opposing teams?  I don't think so.  The Patriots have been the better team in each of their 18 victories.  The margin, however, has gotten increasingly slim.  Plaxico's indiscretion will have no impact on this football game whatsoever, aside from a potential indiscretion/15 yard penalty on the part Rodney Harrison, the Pat secondary's resident asshole.  

Tom Brady's a pussy.  Anyone who shows up to post-game press conferences wearing a Burberry scarf, and generally looking as though he just came from a Manhattan salon (which isn't in Boston by the way, it's in New York), doesn't deserve to win anything.  He certainly doesn't deserve a Brazilian supermodel.  I'll take my "awww shucks" quarterback and his little brother complex  over that bitch any day of the week.  

Giants 23, Patriots 17   

        

Perspective

From time to time it becomes necessary for one to take a step back, to reassess, to examine.  Where is my life headed?  Who exactly have I become?   And if on this day, one just so happens to be simultaneously vomiting and pooping uncontrollably, then so be it.

This picture is not me, of course.  Because, if it was, I'd be sitting on the toilet and puking into a garbage can.  

Ah, life's many wonders...  

Check This Out!

Again, Not Premature, Timely

So this friend of mine, who just so happens to have the most ironic name in the history of the nuclear family, or clans for that matter, also just so happens to hail from South Boston. For those of you who've never lived in Boston, and your conception of Southie derives solely from The Departed and Good Will Hunting, he's part Frank Costello and part Morgan O'Mally.  You never really know if he's going to kill you, or jerk off in your baseball mitt.  As one would expect, he bleeds red, white and navy blue, sometimes to the detriment of sensibility and reason.  Per Tallent's latest blog , the seeds have been sewn for a war of words in anticipation of Superbowl XLII.

  

In and of itself, the temperate weather conditions play in the favor of speed.  If not for the giant (no pun intended) egg Brady laid last week, Tallent's assertion that Brady will put on a show might hold a little more water.  The question marks remain, however:  Tom Brady didn't play well last week, and it may have had something to do with a seemingly innocuous ankle injury. There is a very real possibility that there's a bit more to it.  The Giants' man to man defense will revolve around the performances of Aaron Ross and Corey Webster. While Ross dislocated his shoulder twice two weeks ago, and presumably isn't quite 100%, both corners have really come into their own over the course of the last month.  This, combined with Sam Madison's untimely, and potentially costly, penalty last week, I hope has secured Madison a spot on the sideline, save for nickel and dime packages.  Like McQarters, he's too old to be on the field in man to man coverage situations.   Aside from one huge play, which should not and cannot be downplayed, the Giant defense was successful in neutralizing Randy Moss in the first meeting December 29.  Without that play, we're talking 5 catches for 35 yards.  And what has Randy done since?  Besides his trademark barnyard bedroom exploits?  Mr. Tallent is correct, however, in his assertion that the Giants' focus on Moss will leave them exposed to Stallworth, Welker, and the often overlooked and under-appreciated Kevin Faulk.  Maroney, however, will not have any success running the football- 19 rushes for a whopping 42 yards December 29. And a more effective pass rush, something Justin Tuck, Michael Strahan and Osi Umenyiora are more than capable of, will temper this one dimensional Patriots' attack.   

For good reason, Belichick will throw the kitchen sink at Eli, and this is cause for substantial concern.  It is well-documented that the way to get to Eli is to make him uncomfortable, rushing him into bad decisions.  Will Eli be forced into bad decisions by Belichick's beautiful mind?  Or will his defense look its age (average age: 72), having been been slowed by a long season in pursuit of perfection.  Ultimately our hopes, and the Giants' chances, are draped around the shoulders of Eli Manning.  Admittedly, if you'd have told me November 12 that we'd be preparing for the Superbowl, I'd have likely slapped you, adding, "Not with this quarterback."  But that was then.  Now, Eli is coming off 3 games of championship caliber poise. And to take some of the pressure of young Manning, we have Brandon Jacobs and Ahmad Bradshaw, an actually affective rushing tandem.   

Confident?  No.  Not really.  Optimistic?  Absolutely.  

Wow

This is a fantastic idea.  One hell of a list.  Imagine if it was your job to do things like this.  

Superbowl Diction

A good "friend" told me today that it was too early to start talking sh*t about the Superbowl, and that it's way too early for upset predictions.  Another "friend" told me he couldn't wait to watch this game with me so that he could see the look on my face when the Giants were pummeled by his mighty Patriots.    A co-worker told me I was crazy for not conceding the game to the Pats this morning, January 22, 2008.

Firstly, it's not too early.  It's timely.  We only have two weeks to be force-fed contrived story lines, and to pawn off the little nuggets of information contained therein as our own insights.  In two weeks, everything we say could be potentially nullified by what actually transpires on the field. I'm not crazy.  The 14 point spread is, but I'm not.  It should also be noted that a crude upset prediction was sent only as a joke to elicit an entertaining response that would break up the work day monotony.  The dismissive nature of that response was more revealing of a flawed demeanor than was my "You guys are goin doooooown" email.  To the same point, over the course of the past two days of my life in New England, I've grown evermore confused by the extent of Patriot Nation's (to borrow a stupid phrase from their stupid local baseball team) collective swagger.  I guess Bill only made enough humble pie for his players.  (What is it with this town and its affinity for cliches?)  

As such, I've taken it upon myself to set forth what I hope to be a reasonable case for a potential Giants victory:  

The G-men got very lucky Sunday. They made it to the NFC championship on the heals of mistake-free football. It wasn't so much that they were beating up on the opposition as they weren't being penalized and weren't turning the ball over.  This was not the case during Sunday's nail-biter.  It should only build confidence then, that they were able to find a new way to win in a frigid and hostile environment, having made plenty of mistakes, and against their second consecutive "class of the conference" opponent.  This past Sunday, the Giants didn't beat the Packers in spite of Eli, they beat the Packers mostly because of him.  Having been unsuccessful in avoiding mistakes as a team, the Giants won by making plays.  

Now don't get me wrong: The Pats are the better team on paper. For 99% of the season I was resolute that they were the better team on the field as well. They're an offensive juggernaut AND they have the best X's and O's coach possibly in the game's history. This helps to explain how they've managed to go undefeated.  However....

I was at Giants' Stadium for the first meeting December 29. Without an Eli interception and two critical penalties the Pats lose that game. For a substantial part of it they were out-played. And while home field is often a prudent excuse, this Giants team is actually on a record winning streak away from the friendly confines of the Meadowlands.  Mistake-free, as they performed AT Tampa and AT Dallas, the potential for the upset in Arizona is there.  Even if they make mistakes - hopefully not at the torrent pace they did AT Green Bay - it's possible Eli could out-duel an ailing Tom Brady - who BTW was spotted at a vacation hotspot/Manhattan (a la Tony Romo) sporting a boot that would seemingly indicate an injury of some sort.  To be sure, Brady did not play well enough Sunday to beat the Giants.  At least not the Giants that have showed up so far this playoff season.  He did apparently play well enough to beat a Charger team coached by Norv Turner, quarterbacked by a guy who could barely walk,  and that was without the most dynamic player in football.  So yeah, if this is something which evokes confidence, I guess I am completely out of line.    

More from a previously mentioned "friend": 

"The Patriots are a well oiled machine that finds ways to win, even when Brady throws 3 ints with a broken foot and Randy Moss is beating up women. Talent and experience has carried the Patriots through 18 straight wins, not momentum."  

This is only partly accurate.  The Pats did find a way to win despite Brady's atrocious performance, apparent foot injury, and Randy Moss' bedroom exploits.  At this point in the season, however, the Pats aren't a well-oiled machine. You could argue their best football is behind them.  If they win the Superbowl, which would be a historic accomplishment, it will have to be without the style points and fuck-you-touchdowns that characterized their early season romp through the first 2/3 of their schedule.  I am not sure you can say with any certainty that their campaign for perfection has not been aided by momentum. Especially in some of these late season near misses.   I would argue the Patriots had mustered up considerable momentum that has helped them overcome intermittent lackluster performances since week 12.

New England 31, Philadelphia 28 

New England 27, Baltimore 24 

New England 34, Pittsburgh 13 

New England 20, NY Jets 10 

New England 28, Miami 7 

New England 38, NY Giants 35

New England 21, Jacksonville

New England 21, San Diego 12

Ultimately, it would be fair for the Patriots to be a 10 point favorite.  We musn't forget, however, that there's a reason they actually play these games.  

More biased analysis likely coming throughout the next two weeks.  While you wait, might as well take another look at Cree in his lucky Giants sweater.  

Whoops

After a couple rounds at the shooting range, some 11 odd drinks and a fantastic dinner, all courtesy of The Daddy, we were whisked away to a local watering hole for a change of scenery. Upon arrival, I followed Kevy Wevy to the little boys' room.  It was early yet.  The bar hadn't quite transitioned from to bar from restaurant.  As such, intermittent middle-aged folks were spread throughout.  While Kevy filled the toilet like a garden hose a swimming pool, I banged away at the door for no particular reason.  Actually, I was moments later reprimanded for doing so. Kevy Wevy finished up and exited the one-person bathroom.  I took his place in the john, though ill-equipped to do the aforementioned analogy any justice.  The door, which was situated just beside the toilet, began to open.  Operating under the assumption it was one of my buddies, I took a step back from the toilet, further exposing myself and the water fountain emanating from my groin.  The old guy's eyes got really big as he apologized, and retreated, and slamming the door shut.  Brief embarrassment gave way to uncontrollable laughter when I heard the old man faintly add from beyond, "Lock the door!"   

The picture above was taken of me the next morning.  It was cold.

No Such Thing as Coincidence

Before we go indoctrinating foreign peoples with the enlightened morality of our institutions, perhaps we should be at a point as a society where at our social norms are in accordance with our mission statement.

I am continually awed, living in a "progressive" hub no less, by how unfamiliar we are with the principles of civil rights, and the sovereignty of the individual.  Political correctness in the public arena conforms to institutions. In this broad sense, our institutions - namely our system of government and official dogma - are progressive. 

And yet, it's 2008 in Americana and I had to work on MLK Day, but will undoubtedly have Columbus Day off.  Grown men dismiss presidential candidates based on gender and/or race. Adults who fancy themselves intelligent, and fully expect to have their positions taken seriously, utter racial epithets that I, in a former life, thought reserved only for demonstrative use by teachers during history lessons.      

Thinking Allowed

*This is the sort of stuff on my mind right now largely because I amin the process of painstakingly transporting my CD collection to iTunes.  

**Random pic is a random blues band I saw at Kingston Mines in Chicago after a wedding reception.  She might not look like much...  Err... Scratch that, she might look like too much, but this chick, and her band for that matter, were amazing. When in Chicago, go to Kingston Mines. It's a sure thing.     

Faced with the potential for adding substantial quantities of music to my collection, I get a little giddy.  I'm going to see my old friends Pierre and Ted this weekend when they join me briefly in Boston before we trek up north.  There's considerable overlap between our tastes in music, if not in our collections.  These are two out of a handful of my contemporaries that I take seriously when it comes to tunes.  I think I have mentioned before that I have a tendency to be dismissive; likely coming off as an elitist more often than I'd like to admit. As Moose would put it, I'm a music snob.  

Having known Pierre and Ted since our sophomore year in college, what gets my mind spinning these days is not a sentimentality for our known shared tastes, but the potential for an introduction to some stuff that really blows me away, and the possibility that I might be able to return the favor.

It is my impression, accurate or not, that Pierre has come to inadvertently overlook older bands and musicians in favor of newer, sexier indie rock and varied other experimental types of music.  I mean not to criticize.  By comparison, I'm slow on the uptake with the newer stuff.  To use a now antiquated example, it took two solid years of browbeating for me to embrace Disco Biscuits.  This was a group browbeating effort actually, but I won't bore you with the details.  I have plenty other more pressing, more contemporary things to bore you with.

Ted's taste is a bit more like mine, though more organic.  I believe it wasn't until relatively recently that he came to fully embrace new experimental music that falls beyond the upper crust of the jam band scene, and nu jazz.  Again, this is only my impression.

Both are well-versed in the seminal experimental stuff:  Frank Zappa, Miles Davis, Mahavishnu Orchestra, Herbie Hancock, etc.   To a degree, I'm the same way, though I don't mean  to say I have a remotely detailed map and understanding of the vast networks of branches that stem from this sacred tree.  Be that as it may, I have a few things in mind.

Despite Pierre's past insistence that, while he respects them, King Crimson is a band that just doesn't do it for him, I remain focused.  I am determined to break the both of them much like they were part of the task force that broke the Disco Biscuits on me.  I can't rest until this is achieved.  I won't rest.   If you like a little craziness, and you like the Talking Heads - which in a manner of speaking are the same thing - there just isn't any conceivable reason someone could be incompatible with at least Absent Lovers and Discipline. And once on board, The Power to Believe, and Adrian Belew's Side 1, Side 2, and Side 3 aren't far off.   

Some other items I would like to pass along (forcibly if necessary):

John Zorn's Electric Masada, At the Mountains of Madness

Chick Corea's Hymn to the Seventh Galaxy

Greg Bendian's Myriad and The Mahavishnu Project

The Nels Cline Singers, Instrumentals

Battles' Mirrored

Amon Tobin, Supermodified

Keith Jarrett, The Koln Concert 

M83, Before the Dawn Heals Us

In return, I hope to be blessed with some unexpected gems of which I am completely unaware at the moment.  And maybe a little help rounding out my Disco Biscuits collection.  Lofty, especially considering that the sharing of music isn't exactly the centerpiece of the weekend.

  

Directive

You've got to hear this.  

Cake Anyone???

It probably looks delicious, yes?...  Well it's not.

Yesterday, for some inexplicable reason, I could not find the strength to crawl out of bed in a timely fashion.  I communicated this to Moose.  Her indulgent response provided ample justification for my impulse.  I was taking a personal day.  Armed initially only with a vague notion of what I'd spend this free day doing, I would shortly thereafter act in strict accordance with my adult programming by turning a great idea into cake made of pee pee and poo poo.   

By the time Moose said goodbye I was wide awake, mind overflowing with lame crap that I had been meaning to do for some time, but, for varied reasons, hadn't.   From amongst the list, which I actually put to paper by 8:30am:

• Move money from one bank to another to take advantage of higher interest rate 
  
• Pick up dry cleaning
  
• Surf the net for information pertaining to upcoming Costa Rica trip
  
• Make Dr.'s appointment for physical, something I haven't had in over 5 years  
  
• Make eye Dr.'s appointment to address declining vision
  
• Make dermatologist appointment to have freckles and mole's inspected by a licensed professional
  
• Shave pubes
  
• Speak to bank regarding ongoing identity theft investigation
• Pay bills
• Go for a long bike ride
• Pick up role of quarters
• Do laundry

You should be very proud, because I made it through the entire list.  Technically.  I was down to my third and final load of laundry, walking down to the basement to empty the dryer and transport my whites from the washer, when I noticed a steady stream of liquid dripping from a pipe that runs along the ceiling down on top of the washing machine.  As I got closer I noticed the liquid wasn't quite clear.  Closer still, a familiar stench infiltrated my nose.  My worst fears were confirmed:  Pubic hair, fresh pee, toilet water, and pubic-pee-poo cake - a rare amalgamation of old urine, pubes, and old doodly plip plop - separated me from my undershirts and socks.  Now, I don't have kids, but I know understand parental instinct, because one arose inside me at that moment, like a mother risking her own life to save a child from drowning....in a septic tank.  As soon as there was a break in the stream, I pulled open the washing machine, determined to save my laundry from my neighbor's excrement, no doubt poised to rain down on us both without prejudice.  But alas, a miscalculation!  As I opened the door to the washing machine, a stream of toilet water and pubic-pee-poo cake infiltrated the washing machine's main cabin, and subsequently the garments that know me best.

Though, obviously, my neighbor was not to blame, I couldn't control my rage.   Cursing her fat disgusting slob ass (I've never seen her before), I threw my soiled, through no real fault of my own, whites into the dryer, knowing full well that, at best, there was another wash and dry cycle in our shared future.   

Should have gone to work.            

Repent

It appears Notre Dame futility may be short-lived.  This is not to trivialize their substantial bowl losing streak or their longstanding absence from end of season national championship discussion.  But it seems logical that they will not have a repeat of this past season in the foreseeable future.  At least, if they do, Charlie Weis should and will bear the brunt of the fallout.  And I refer to real fallout; job security fallout, not ultimately inconsequential condemnation from an eternally polarized media.     

According to Tom Lemming, recruiting guru, the incoming class is the most impressive since 1990.  Almost 25% of the incoming freshmen are ranked inside Sports Illustrated's Top 100. That's five kids to be exact.

Amongst the class of 2013, Mike Golic Jr., a 6-5, 265 lb. offensive lineman and son of a former Notre Dame and Philadelphia Eagles player, Mike Golic Sr., whom you might also recognize from ESPN, and Nathanial Montana, 6-5, 195 lb. quarterback from California, and, oh yeah, son of Joe Montana.  In keeping with the caliber of Anthony Fasano and John Carlson, they've landed Kyle Rudolph, a 6-6, 230 lb. tight end from Ohio.  Despite conventional "wisdom", Jonas Gray, of Michigan, verbally committed to Notre Dame after having been on hand for the 38-0 shillacking at the hands of USC.  Oddly, the game day atmosphere in South Bend and the potential to make an immediate impact on the field may have actually outweighed Mark May's "insights".  Dayne Crist, a 6-foot-5, 210-pound quarterback from California, can be found atop many recruit rankings.  Crist's coming on board is a bit curious even, as he'll likely be competing for his first three years against Jimmy Claussen, one year ahead of Crist; each hailing from California, and having earned a similar multitude of accolades at the high school level.  

Mark May:  Repent now and all will be forgiven.  Jk, jk.  It's too late.  

The New York Football Giants

My beloved Giants take on the hated Cowboys this weekend in what, oddly enough, will be the first meeting of these two storied franchises in the post-season.  The Giants' performance against the Pats in week 17, though a visceral letdown in person, has actually blossomed into a cause for timid optimism.  After last week's game I was actually pretty high.  Now, with three forgettable workdays under my belt, and the objectivity that often accompanies the mundane, I don't really know what to think.  (Don't bother trying to tell me I'm not a real fan because I'm not teeming with the cockeyed optimism of an 11 year-old boy, though I often act like one.  And I didn't bet $50 without the spread on the Giants-Pats game....  My brother did.  Sadly, he's not 11 either though.)   

The Giants have won eight games away from the Meadowlands this year.  That's pretty impressive.  Gilbride, the Giants offensive coordinator, who I had been second guessing the entire second half of the season - including the Pats game - looked brilliant last week.  I've gone from lamenting Gilbride's play calling to hailing him a genius after one game!  Admittedly, I could be misappropriating in giving credit to Gilbride where I should shoveling blame on Tampa Bay's defensive game plan which, for some inexplicable reason, did not include blitzing Eli Manning and forcing him into bad decisions.  

Mr. Kevin Gilbride, if you're listening:   In the event that Jerry Jones takes the defensive coordinator's headphones, hands him a Coke Zero Super Caffeine Terd, and starts calling blitzes, throw screens to Bradshaw - not to be mistaken for Jacobs - because Bradshaw has the ability to get up field in a hurry, and, presumably, his hands can't be worse than Jacobs.  (If you recall, Eli had to depend on an evolutionary instinct present in all men, to protect the twig 'n' berries, in order to be sure Jacobs would secure what would became a touchdown pass.)    

The Giants have already lost twice to Dallas this season.  It is extremely difficult to beat a team three times over the course of the same season in the NFL.  I dare you to find examples of this having happened before.  I bet it has.  Infrequently though.     

Ultimately, I'm left with more questions than answers or advice:  Can we disregard the Giants second half of the season decline because of two impressive performances?  Will Dallas take a page from Tampa in only rushing four and rarely, if ever, blitzing?  Or will they take a page from the Patriots' effective second half two weeks ago by throwing the kitchen sink at the Giants' patchwork offensive line and quarterback who doesn't exactly thrive in the face of a collapsing pocket?  Is Tony Romo be distracted by his siren girlfriend to such a degree that he'll be pushing fabric during timeouts?  Is his dreamy little fucking thumb okay?  Will the Giants be able to pressure Romo as effectively as they pressured Garcia?  In addressing this potential, will the Cowboys have to sacrifice Jason Witten's role in the passing game?  (Jason Witten killed the Giants in their first meeting but had two catches for 14 yards in their second meeting.  Perhaps this was a necessity because Strahan, not a factor in their first meeting, and the rest of the defensive line were gelling by then.)   

I hope I don't sound irrational here, but I hope Romo gets badly injured when Justin Tuck comes in low and Strahan high.  For good measure, I hope he fumbles the ball as he shrieks in pain, and Osi Umenyiora recovers and takes a jaunt over to the endzone for six.  I hope TO can find it within himself to play....and Aaron Ross treats him like shit on his way to setting a playoff record for dropped passes (this is actually very much possible because TO has terrible hands). But above all else, I hope the Giants can find a way to win.

  

Odds and Ends

Rant courtesy of an unwitting contributor, via email:

This is really pissing me off...

Hillary cried and that's why she won.  Seriously, all the articles mention it as a deciding factor for a lot of voters.  She got a bunch of people to vote for her the same way a high school girl gets out of a speeding ticket.  And she also just started talking about the same stuff she always has, but inserted the word change all over the place. Then she surrounded herself with [artificial] young people.  And not just young people, but kids, who can't vote.  What the hell is the point of that?

What's the deal? I thought New Hampshire was cool?

I couldn't agree more... Besides that last part.  I knew New Hampshire wasn't cool.  What we have here is a frustrating process complimented by frustrating people.  My only hope is that people, and by people I mean young people who usually don't show up to the polls in big numbers, are able to cast aside all the frustration and remember how important the upcoming election will be.  But I won't hold my breath.  

Now Boarding

If boarding the subway is an apt analogy for my introduction to post-rock, I'm likely standing up. As with many things in which I claim to have serious interest, I can't claim to be a trailblazer. My introduction to post-rock was hap and circumstance.

Oddly, seated on board a train in the Irish countryside somewhere between Dublin and Cork, I found Tortoise while sifting through my father's iPod. This was not the first time that I recognized from amongst my dad's heterogeneous music collection a band that had been previously recommended to me. It was then that I first heard It's All Around You. I have since come to acquire, in addition to It's All Around You, TNT, A Lazarus Taxon, and A Brave New World.

Having been asked recently to burn some music for a buddy, and subsequently having done some considerable brain-storming, it has come to my attention that a lot of people have no idea what kind of music "post-rock" may allude to. Whether or not it is an appropriate name for the vast expanse of music it supposedly denotes, I feel compelled to discuss.

The common threads of post-rock, as I see them, are the absence of lyrics, or at least a lesser role, an added emphasis on texture, and the presence of some element traditionally associated with rock and roll. To a certain degree, dubbing the aforementioned vagaries "post-rock" is the easy way out. On the other hand, it does successfully provide a sense of expectation by utilizing a universally recognizable genre to describe the way this music transcends it.

Musically, this can vary. Almost jazz, with a band like Tortoise on an album like TNT, to almost metal, for a band like Pelican on an album like City of Echoes. Somewhere in between you'll find bands like Do Make Say Think, Godspeed! You Black Emperor, and Explosions in the Sky, though, to clump these bands together is a crass oversimplification. In some instances, post-rock is jazz light (I mean not to be pejorative) in terms of how demanding the music is to play and listen to. This is, of course, an unfair generalization, however, because it presupposes an absence of demanding passages, for which contradictions are plentiful. Moreover, it eschews varied approaches and intentions, as if music were merely fodder for overzealous bloggers.

If you enjoy the elements of music that are found between the lines; those that do not enact repetition, utilize traditional song structures, and have the patience and inclination, "post-rock" might be something you want to look into.

Tortoise- "Salt the Skies"

Tortoise- "Seneca"

Sigur Ros- "Svefn g englar"

Sigur Ros - "Glosoli"

Explosions in the Sky- "First Breath After Coma"

Don't Order The Fribble!

Under the spell of a hangover, the likes of which I hadn't experienced in quite some time, Moose and I went to Friendly's for breakfast on New Year's Day, accompanied by some friends who were partly responsible for our state of being at the time.  

I gleefully noticed Friendly's offers complimentary happy endings to patrons over the age of 60, a feature detailed on the backside of the menu.  When our waitress arrived at the table, delivering half-clean silverware and asking us if we were ready to order, I inquired without hesitation, "So....I can't get the happy ending? Because I'm not over 60."  From the reactions my inquiry was getting from those seated beside and across from me, and likely from the tone of my voice, my joke didn't sail over her head.  She knew exactly what I was asking....  And she was down to party.  

"For you?"  She looked me up and down, "For you I'll throw in the happy ending."  

And so went the first of the year.           

Popularity Contest

I recently had a discussion about the "Big 3" of American sports - football, baseball and basketball - and television revenue, as it shed light on their relative popularity.  Well, this morning, I serendipitously discovered the following chart:

       TOTAL REVENUES            Average TV Rights Fees

NFL         $5.86B                                         $3.1B

MLB        $5.2B                                            $670M

NBA         $3.13B                                          $765M

NHL        $2.2B                                            $70M

NASCAR $1.27B                                          $560M

*figures courtesy of Sports research Guide Book, Plunkett Research, Forbes.

No real surprises here.  No one watches hockey on TV, and while in terms sheer numbers Nascar is supposedly the most popular sport in America, most Nascar fans likely don't own TV's. Moreover, it's not a sport.

Football is king of spectator sports.  The game translates very well to television, as most Americans with a penis will likely attest.  Plus, with the benefit of a shorter season, and the corresponding added importance of each game, as compared to the MLB and NBA, it's television deals translate to big bucks. (Please note that the league's television deals are increasingly lucrative as respective lengths of their seasons shorten).  

Baseball and basketball's figures are somewhat misleading as they take into account only the deals with Fox, ESPN, TBS, and ABC, ESPN, and TNT, respectively.  Though I am not sure what sort of kickback the MLB and NBA get from television stations like YES and MSG in New York, NESN and FSN in Boston, WGN in Chicago, and TNT for Atlanta, the thriving underlying television deals of individual franchises surely benefit both sports' governing bodies, while also lending credence to their popularity.  What's good for the goose is good for the gander. 

Hockey's figure is even misleading in assessing popularity because it fails to note increasing attendance and a burgeoning internet presence, though I only know two people that follow the game closely.     

In conclusion:  G - I - A - N - T - S !!!!!!