What a night! I'll always remember where I was on the otherwise forgettable evening when Ball State pulled off the upset on the road, and I learned what yuzu was! A milestone evening, indeed.
In other news, the people have spoken, by not speaking, and I'm prepared to declare the balog all but over. I say "all but," because there is one guy back in my control center who keeps insisting that there are still countless readers out there who have yet to be heard from. I think he was just trying to be nice. That guy has a history of unfounded optimism, but I haven't had the heart to let him go after all that time he spent waiting in line to get me my copy of Chinese Democracy on its release date.
Closing up shop is a process. Until completion, it's open.
Today, we talk about the importance of voting. As a media celebrity, I am obligated to use my influence on regular people by lecturing you on this. It's in the handbook.
It's no secret that we're at a crossroads as a people. We can talk all day and night about complex issues, but that's more suited for guys like that guy from Two And A Half Men, or that grimy rock guy who always wears tank tops and plowed Pamela Anderson (the second one, or third, or whatever...), or that wildly-gesticulating man-waif with the horrible voice and the pork pie hat. I'd rather boil it down to more simplistic premises.
We can stay with the status quo, and accept more of the same. That's fine for those of you who are happy with the current state of things. I've done some research, and I know such people exist. Or you can vote for change, or at least the promise of it. With the booming tenor of money constantly drowning out the inner voice to do good, change is always at risk of being a promise unfulfilled. So it's easy to stick with what we know. Yet we suffer so much now...
Look, I'm not going to tell you who to vote for. I'm just urging you to do it. Be a good citizen. Your voice is needed.
Head to the polling station. It's just about 6 inches Northwest of here, and it's open.
I'm posting a little late today because I gave you all an extra hour over the weekend, which you predictably used to frantically balog. You're welcome.
Looks like order is finally being restored in the world. I knew the Mayans were wrong about the apocalypse being caused by Bob Vila.
Discuss your weekend with the whole class below. It's open.
You guys know there's no 3:00 curfew, right? Sheesh.
So I am often in a position to overhear interesting and/or hilarious conversations, and tonight was my favorite in a long time. I thought I'd share.
Guy Who Is About 50 Wearing A Harley Jacket But Rode In A Sidecar Once At Best- "Yeah, we (motions towards ladyfriend) went and saw Styx. I'm not a huge fan, but it was great. She (motions towards ladyfriend) got to strum on Tommy Shaw's guitar."
Guy Who Looks Exactly Like The Head Racist Corrupt Cop From Every Movie Ever- "Yeah, Tommy Shaw can play the heck out of that thing. No wonder Ted Nugent wanted him."
(moments later)
GWIA50WAHJBRIASOAB- "We went to one of those Tony Roma's restaurants in Green Bay. Yeah, I guess the quarterback for the Dallas Cowboys owns it or whatever."
*note- Yes, this REALLY happened. I waited it out with my jaw on the floor. He was NOT joking.
GWLELTHRCCFEME- [corrects him without losing his shit]
There you have it, the highlight of my night. I don't know, maybe you had to be there. But you're here, and it's open.
I totally forgot how to do this. I think I'm supposed to jump start conversation with an anecdote about long-distance running or something, but I have none. Little help?
Look, the 50 Days was just an experiment of sorts. An exercise in actual structure, meant to help combat writer's block. Clearly, it didn't work. But it really doesn't matter. My favorite content always has been, and still remains, what lies below. That is, when you fools choose to partake. And I've come to realize that I have very little control over when that will be. I can give you specific topical guidance or one sentence of utter gibberish, and the bottom line is that you'll play when you feel like playing. And lately, that's been infrequently, Maybe substantive blogs are the new thing. If that's what blows your skirt up, so be it. But that's not really what we do here. Guys Who know the balog know this, and hopefully they will remember the value of a place where they are the stars, and substance only gets the occasional bit part.
If anyone's coming here for the first time, I...I...I just don't know how to explain. If you're looking for substantive content, might as well venture towards the doors. Or something like that.
Well, this is it. Grief counselors are standing by in the comment section. Feel free to use them. It's funny that Seinfeld was mentioned yesterday, because we are going back to the old format- a balog about nothing. However, if you have any suggestions or any interest in possibly doing a guest piece, feel free to drop me an e-mail. I check it at least monthly. Remember, the 50 days may be up, but the HATE will live on.
On that note, I believe I recently voiced my opinion on non-additive covers. And I probably don't need to explain my position on this band. I really could have chosen their other song any of their other songs, but this one is probably the most indefensible. Seriously, what did this add to the original? Exponentially inferior vocals and an obnoxious organ? SIGN ME UP!!! Naturally, it was a hit, but if we've learned nothing else from this exercise, we should take a good hard look at this list and realize that the American public has a long way to go when it comes to HATE. I'm here to do my part.
The good music returns tomorrow. Regardless of what lies above it, the space below is what matters. It was yours for the last 50 days, and it remains as such. I can't make you use it, but don't say I didn't remind you. It's open.
I guess the technical diffrugalgies of that other nightly craproom weren't reason enough to partake in a rousing MKMUAN sesh. I just don't know what you people want anymore. Regardless, balog analytics tell me that we have 6 readers who reside along the Eastern Seaboard, and I hope each and every one of you are hunkered down safely. With internet access. I know I won't be letting some storm that sounds like a mischievous Brady Bunch guest character stop me from carrying out my important duties. And so, on we go.
If this song didn't serve as the annoying Pavlovian signal to scramble for my remote control, it would still be a rightful target for HATE. For it stands firmly on its own (pile of shit). But, as a great man who had the misfortune of a loose association with it once famously said, "It doesn't help." According to my unquestionable sources, this turd was actually co-written by the producers of the terrible show it represented, which makes them responsible for TWO unspeakable crimes against humanity. Yet they roam free. I don't really have to go over the lyrics, do I? (Coincidentally- that was the exact response of the primary songwriter when revisions were suggested prior to recording.) This vapid atrocity somehow reached number one on the U.S. Top 40 Mainstream and Hot Adult Contemporary Tracks charts. Could it be a better musical reflection of the show's audience??? Amiwhite???
Remember, the 50 days actually ends on Halloween. So the HATE is over after tomorrow. Well, this particular HATE anyway. Please try to contain your disappointment. I'll find something new for you all to not read.
The balog may be stuck in second gear, but at least it's open.
