And so another Rocktober limps to a sad close. Sure, we were mostly disinterested this time around, but it could have been worse. Way worse. We didn't post any shitty songs and our posts didn't require an interpreter to make sense of them. It's comforting to know that no matter how badly we phone it in, Cappy will be there setting the bar low enough that our apathy doesn't matter. So until next year.... Or whatever.
We've been wondering for the past few days what is the protocol on the off chance one of the copycats happens to post a song we had on our agenda. Because that happened. We ultimately decided to go ahead and stick with our original setlist because A) we started Rocktober and B) Cappy is an idiot. His blog isn't even written in English. We're not sure what it is (our best guess is some bizarre variation of whatever language Sarah Palin speaks), but it sure as shit ain't English. We've often wondered what his many followers are thinking when they comment, because there's no way they can possibly understand what the fuck he's supposed to be talking about. They're probably just nodding along because they know better than to upset the crazy person. Anyway, we've kind of gotten off-topic here. Let's just get to the rock....
I learned a couple of months ago that AC/DC's Back in Black has sold more copies worldwide than any record except Thriller. That surprised me for about four seconds until I actually thought about it. Eventually, every teenage boy is going to hear "You Shook Me All Night Long" during his adolescence and buy a copy. Back in Black is like the Monopoly game of rock albums.
I promised myself I wasn't going to phone it in tonight. But I only just now got home from work. I had a mostly shitty day. I'm way behind on a drawing I promised Daby and CarrieNation. And my favorite baseball team - the New York Yankees - are playing game one of the World Series. So here we are.
Chuck Klosterman calls this song "the emo 'Rock Around the Clock.'" Is he right? I don't know. Nobody knows. What's the point of debating, anyway? Who cares?
Nine times out of ten, my motivation for doing anything is: spite. There's no better way to illustrate this than to describe how the Boston Red Sox became my least favorite sports team of all time.
I'm not really a baseball fan. I enjoy baseball, I guess, in the same way that I enjoy the Olympics; I like the concept in general and I enjoy watching every once in a while, but I'm glad it doesn't occupy too much of my time. I pay just enough attention to know basically what's going on because it feels like at least that much is required of a "sports fan."
I am, however, an avid football fan. Earlier this decade, the New England Patriots cheated their way to a couple of Super Bowl victories and a whole crowd of douchey Massholes crawled out from under the rocks they'd been using for shelter. They started talking about the Patriots as a "dynasty" despite that the team had only - at the time - two good seasons. A few of them even went so far, in 2004 mind you, to label the Patriots the "team of the decade." We all know that's ridiculous. Everybody knows the Pittsburgh Steelers, who just so happen to be the team I root for, are the team of the decade. Somehow, the mouth-breathing neanderthals in Massachussets gruntedly loudly enough that the national sports media noticed their bullshit claim and began lavishing undue attention on the Patriots. They - the Pats - began turning up on those nationally televised late Sunday and prime-time games, taking some of the exposure which the Steelers so richly deserved. So I got to watch my team less, and what coverage I did get fawned over a lesser team. This situation affected me personally; the Patriots actually made my life worse. So, naturally, I fucking loathe the New England Patriots.
This is where it starts to get a little complicated. Because I hate the Patriots so much, I am obligated by spite to hate the Red Sox even more. I know that every single Patriot fan would happily watch the Patriots go winless for the rest of time if that resulted in a World Series victory for the Red Sox. I have to hate the Red Sox more than the Patriots because all the Pats fans love the Red Sox more. So the Red Sox are my least favorite sports team of all time. It makes perfect sense.
But I've noticed something a little strange happening over the past few years. I despise the Red Sox so much that subconsciously, I've wanted the New York Yankees to do well. You see, Red Sox fans hate the Yankees. They chant "Yankees suck!" at the NFL Draft. (This is more evidence, by the way, that Sawx fans are retarded and that I am right to hate them more.) Every Yankee victory hurts a Red Sox fan deep in the most primative quadrants of his unenlightened simian brain (even though he will never know why), and that gives me great pleasure. Lately I have told a few people that "I hate the Red Sox so much that I am practically a Yankee fan." It was only last week that I realized that statement was actually true.
So consider this my official coming out as a fan of the New York Yankees. I didn't have an axe to grind in the MLB anyway, so why not the Yankees? They fit all my criteria. They have a long and storied history of winning a lot. Rooting against their chief rival is easy. Jerry Hairston, Jr. is on their roster. But perhaps best of all, my very first act as an official Yankee fan is that I get to root for them to reduce Cap'n Crunch to a whimpering and pathetic heap. Yes, I would enjoy Cappy's devastation very much. That, there, is just the kind of personal connection that makes sports so much fun.
I have busy morning and special announcement to post later this evening, so I'm gonna keep this short and sweet. Here's a crappy song I enjoy.
Velvet Goldmine is not a great movie. It does, however, have a great soundtrack featuring a nice mix of glam-rock era originals, covers, and pastiches. I especially like the songs written for the film by Shudder to Think - partially because they're only barely more ridiculous than "Ziggy Stardust" and partially because I've now fulfilled my Rocktober quota for bands from the District of Columbia.
There's a quote typically attributed to Ben Franklin and/or Albert Einstein that defines insanity as doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. By that logic (which - you have to admit - makes some sense), it is insane to try and do nice things for Jodi. Her typical response is ungrateful griping. The best example of this occurred during Rocktober last year. I knew she had a job interview so I dedicated a Replacements song to her, hoping it would bring her good luck. And how did she react to this gracious gesture? She said, and I quote, I was "the kind of evil that [she] never expected to see manifested here on Earth." So if I were to post another Replacements song, say today, and expect that she will react with anything other than contempt, that would be insane. Call me crazy, but I'm gonna give it a shot. Jodi, this one's for you.
Rock and roll is here to stay (at least through the remainder of the month), but our annual break is overdue. Elliott Smith would like a moment for a few of someone else's words.
