Wednesday, February 27, 2008

Celebrity doctors

I just got back from the eye doctor; while I was there I discovered that my doctors tend to resemble celebrities. My optometrist looks like Alan Arkin from about 10-15 years ago, and my dentist looks like James Cameron. My lady bits doctor looks a bit like Cheryl Hines (Larry David's wife on Curb Your Enthusiasm, among other things). It makes me want to collect an ensemble cast of specialists surrounding me. It would be like being in a bizzarro Hollywood, where everyone is a genius instead of being a hedonistic liar.

Tuesday, February 26, 2008

The Most Fabulous Theoretical Rock Band Ever

I am now an internet celebrity, sharing space from Adam of Mythbusters and Brian from Guster. I was recognized at the Boiler Room karaoke (yes, I do have that vice now), and promptly snapped and posted on the Treebrains facebook profile:

The group had its humble beginnings in the yard of Steve "the Sneeze." Anyone can join, you don't have to do anything, and the T-shirt is optional. In fact, the T-shirt is now a rarity as they aren't selling them anymore. Check out thesneeze.com or
http://www.facebook.com/p.php?i=1128961941&k=SWFZY55RU6TF5BDGTF25T to see my lovely visage up close or check out the hilarious posts. Theoretical bands are fun!

Oh, but look at the time!! As it is now after five o'clock, I have lost interest in posting any more on this subject, but will amend it later. Out!

Tuesday, February 19, 2008

Musical tastes

I was just thinking of this at lunch. Bringing up your music preferences invariable starts a debate about who's better. I've had each of the following arguments with others fairly recently:

David Lee Roth vs. Sammy Hagar – There are three kinds of people in the world. Van Halen lovers, Van Hagar lovers, and people who couldn’t give less of a shit about either of them. I’m one of the former. David Lee Roth was in Van Halen first, so there’s a point for him. He’s honestly quite odd, which is another point in his favor (most people like a spectacle in their lead singers). I happen to like his insane screeching, and would love to be able to mimic it at karaoke. Also, since leaving, he’s been a gigolo and an EMT, and has gotten back together with the Van Halen brothers more times than most celebrity couples. Then there’s Sammy. The guy brought us “I Can’t Drive Fifty-Five” and “There’s Only One Way to Rock” prior to joining the band. Once installed, he pussified them quite quickly (Seriously, “Why Can’t This Be Love?” They’re supposed to be rocking about drop dead legs and stuff). Sure, it’s possible that Eddie might have written the lyrics for some of the Van Hagar songs, in which case, another point goes to Roth for refusing to let Eddie wax romantic during his tenure. I heard Sammy is a nice guy, I’ll give him that, but there’s not enough Cabo Wabo in the world to make me change my allegiance.


David Gilmour vs. Roger Waters – Yes, it’s true, when Roger Waters split, Pink Floyd took a turn into pop territory. Mostly gone were the dark depressing odes to Syd Barrett, dead fathers, and mental illness; and when a dark sounding song did turn up, it seemed to be trying too hard. BUT, Waters did not make Pink Floyd what it was; rather, he worked with Gilmour’s musical skills to make his odd concepts bearable to listen to. When he tried to do it alone, his works came out sounding like pieces of performance art rather than songs. “Several Species of Small Furry Animals Gathered Together in a Cave and Grooving with a Pict,” anyone? Hint: it can’t even be loosely classified as a song. Or take his post-Floyd album “the Pros and Cons of Hitchiking.” Even in the beginning, right after Syd got dumped, Waters wrote songs that mimicked (not perfectly) Barrett’s compositions. There’s no doubt that Dave is the better musician, but his heart lies with pop, and most Floyd fans aren’t keen on it. So, I will say that this argument is a tough one, but I for one am going to go with the actual music rather than concept. Also, Gilmour has historically been more attractive than Waters, and of course that's important.


Little Wing – Jimi Hendrix vs. Stevie Ray Vaughn – Yes, I know Jimi wrote it. Yes, I know he is a guitar legend. But Jimi’s version is about two and a half minutes, and Stevie’s is almost seven. Also, compared to Stevie’s smooth bluesy style, Jimi’s is quite rough and manic, as if he’s simply waiting to set his Fender on fire again. And I’m sure he meant it to be that way; it is Jimi Hendrix, after all. I have immense respect for the man. I just happen to prefer Stevie’s take on it, mostly due to the fact that he’s made it an instrumental to focus on the melody while Jimi mostly showcased his singing. Hell, they’re both dead and probably beyond caring anyhow, but Stevie it is, for me.

Monday, February 18, 2008

Romantic ramblings of a spam generator

I got this as spam once...it's truly poetic:

The Scooby snack teaches the tornado. Any lover can share a shower with the cloud formation inside the tomato, but it takes a real recliner to bury the moldy globule. A tape recorder seeks a sandwich. When you see the ski lodge, it means that the tattered customer goes to sleep. The underhandedly fractured mortician secretly plans an escape from the nearest industrial complex, and the plaintiff from the cashier makes love to a carelessly nuclear tape recorder.

If a freight train caricatures some paycheck about another light bulb, then a carpet tack defined by the submarine procrastinates. When you see some hypnotic reactor, it means that a grizzly bear living with the cargo bay hibernates. While a hypnotic football team rejoices, a briar patch starts reminiscing about lost glory. A fruit cake beyond a bartender competes with the unstable polar bear.

Most people believe that the gentle umbrella often satiates a football team of another ocean, but they need to remember how seldom the geosynchronous light bulb takes a coffee break. If the cheese wheel sanitizes a spider, then an umbrella daydreams. A fundraiser goes deep sea fishing with the grain of sand over a bowling ball, or a blood clot buries the geosynchronous briar patch. Another girl scout related to a photon starts reminiscing about lost glory, and the shabby hole puncher writes a love letter to a defendant. Some single-handedly worldly pork chop reads a magazine, and the diskette hides; however, a mysterious fairy competes with the college-educated photon.

Another mitochondrial particle accelerator procrastinates. For example, an accidentally flatulent class action suit indicates that a mating ritual inexorably buys an expensive gift for a pathetic senator. A turkey prays, and an infected line dancer sweeps the floor; however, the mortician writes a love letter to some seldom purple tabloid. When a skyscraper inside a skyscraper trembles, a greasy plaintiff earns frequent flier miles. Now and then, a ball bearing secretly befriends a knowingly alleged insurance agent. The wheelbarrow living with a fairy, a paper napkin related to the cowboy, and another smelly freight train are what made America great!

Another CEO inside a warranty takes a coffee break, and a so-called pickup truck leaves; however, a fundraiser beyond an ocean knows a roller coaster from a blithe spirit. When you see the wheelbarrow, it means that some carpet tack from a salad dressing starts reminiscing about lost glory. When the proverbial pine cone hibernates, a college-educated graduated cylinder wakes up. The freight train for a mortician has a change of heart about a satellite. Sometimes the college-educated jersey cow flies into a rage, but a wisely obsequious hole puncher always knowingly gives lectures on morality to a tomato!

A fire hydrant inside the grand piano procrastinates, and a chess board for a buzzard hesitates; however, a mean-spirited jersey cow eagerly trades baseball cards with the briar patch. For example, the particle accelerator indicates that a bowling ball figures out the most difficult fruit cake. Most people believe that a turkey completely secretly admires a stoic blood clot, but they need to remember how knowingly the turn signal defined by an apartment building beams with joy. When a tabloid is gentle, the outer globule tries to seduce the inferiority complex. A grand piano around the ski lodge feels nagging remorse, but a satellite secretly admires an asteroid inside an ocean.