theCDP.net

Give Life Back To Music.

2013-05-17T00:01:00.000-05:00

(I was not compensated in any way for this review. I wouldn't do that.)

Guess what? Random Access Memories is awesome.

RAM is the smoothest, funkiest, chillest, sexiest and most beautiful Daft Punk album to date, and easily the best album I've heard all year. A game changer that lacks cohesive description (having the best marketing campaign in recent memory didn't hurt, either).

While the tracks flow seamlessly, each seems to speak to a different specific feeling (every reviewer seems to have a different favorite track, which is almost unprecedented). It's not so much a Daft Punk album as a love letter to the last six decades of Pop Music. More soul/jazz than EDM/techno, it's a masterwork of audio engineering and (ironically) human emotion. I came in with unrealistic expectations, and they were completely turned on their ear with the throwback direction taken by our beloved robotic Frenchmen. I loved it in a way I couldn't have predicted, which as a music fan, is all you ever ask for.

A new Daft Punk record is sort of like a new Daniel Day-Lewis film or Beastie Boys album; they show up once every six years if you're lucky, and it always kicks ass. The soundtrack to the Summer has arrived early, yo. Go pick up this album and enjoy your weekend.

The Finale.

2013-05-16T00:01:00.000-05:00

A few thoughts on tonight's Office series finale. It's a bit jumbled, but whatever.

In 10 short days, the Netflix gods will smile upon us when they bless us with 15 brand new episodes of Arrested Development, one of the funniest, sharpest and most critically-acclaimed comedies in recent memory. A show that some believe wasn't given enough chances in their three short years on FOX. Not given enough time to flourish and gather an audience.

While I'm excited to see AD back, I feel it always got exactly what it deserved. Arrested Development was just a little too smart, self-referential and groundbreaking to ever be a ratings darling, and the move to Netflix where it can be digested by hardcore fans at whichever pace they choose (binge, probably) seems to be a compromise everyone can agree with. AD was never going to do anything to pander (unless they were satirizing the notion), and the depth of their world was so deep that even Lost seemed more understandable at times. AD was never going to be Everybody Loves Raymond, and I think we all realized that from the get-go.

The problem with what Arrested is doing lies in what we think we want as fans, versus what's best for the legacy of the show (as well as our memories of it) in general. AD seemed destined to fade away with legions of fans wondering what might have been, and sometimes that's better than sticking around and overstaying your welcome. In just a few days, we'll have a rare opportunity to see a resurrected series give the fans exactly what they asked for; whether they enjoy it is left to be determined.

This, of course, brings us to The Office.

Nearly every longtime fan of The Office agrees that the series should have ended on April 28, 2011, the date of Steve Carell's final appearance as Michael Scott. While The Office has always been boosted by an ensemble cast and relatively deep character development (for the main players, at least), Michael Scott was clearly the comedic and emotional lifeblood of the show. He was arguably the whole reason The Office survived past its six-episode Season One order. In Michael Scott, The Office did something that almost nobody predicted it would do; break from the looming shadow of the British version to blaze a new trail of cringe humor and documentary-style sitcoms in America. In Scott, we had perhaps the most memorable (and certainly quotable) sitcom character of the new millennium. Where he went, the show went, right?

However, by Carell's exit, The Office was a ratings hit and NBC Thursday night staple, and it's hard to bring new viewers to new sitcoms. They decided to ride it out without him, lasting another 50 episodes before tonight's finale. The fans and critics unanimously declared the show dead (Robert California?), yet in terms of ratings, everyone continued to tune in. NBC's gamble paid off.

You also have to remember that when The Office premiered in 2005 (on Tuesday night), the only remaining fragments of NBC's 'Must-See Comedy' lineup were Will and Grace and Friends spinoff Joey. One was a traditional sitcom on the way out, and the other was a flop to begin with. They both had laugh tracks. Now, there isn't a single comedy on NBC Thursdays that doesn't employ the modern, single-camera style with no canned laughter to speak of. It shaped the new landscape of NBC's Thursday nights, so by all accounts, they deserved whatever they asked for.

Again, The Office had a six episode first season. Nobody expected it to succeed. Nearly a decade later, and not only did it become one of the most influential comedies of the last 15 years, but we're actually debating whether or not it was on for too long. Quite the reversal of fortune.

Series Finales are intensely tricky, but I think we all know what we're going to get when The Office signs off. 30 Rock, for example, came from the 'no hugging, no learning' school popularized by Seinfeld, and unlike Seinfeld, they targeted comedy gold in their finale with one of the funniest send-offs in TV history. The Office's roots have always been in emotion and how we feel about the characters, so we probably won't see too many laughs tonight. We're all gonna cry like bitches, and we're gonna love it, and we're gonna proclaim it a perfect send-off, regardless of the last two seasons that none of us particularly asked for or wanted. All will be forgiven, I'm sure.

As fans, we've been through a lot this season. From the reveal of the documentary filmmakers (which I disliked), to an emotional tease between Pam and boom mic operator Brian (which I disliked), to the entire show-within-a-show aspect becoming the centerpiece of Dunder-Mifflin's excitement (which I disliked). I really had a logistical problem with the breaking of the fourth wall. I mean, you wouldn't do this on Modern Family, would you? No, because it would expose that the whole premise makes no sense, just like in this circumstance (which seemed to cause a lot of scrambling and suspension of disbelief this year). I've let most of this go, however, because I've accepted it and focused on the same thing they want us to be focused on as the finale draws near: The future of Jim and Pam Halpert.

The Jim/Pam courtship ranks among the most realistic and expertly-played in all of sitcom history. Jim's pining for Pam was flagrantly Emo, yet handled in a way so much more delicate than other comedies. There were hardly any laughs drawn from their early storyline; it felt real. As a guy, I felt for Jim in every misstep, every time he had to watch Pam kiss Roy as they planned for a wedding that neither of them really wanted. The missed opportunity after missed opportunity. It was raw. And in Pam, we felt the hesitancy of what it truly means to follow your heart, and the potential disasters that may follow. Even now, after years of marriage and two kids (also handled quite well, I might add), they still managed to add a wonderful new element to their storyline in Season 9, as Jim once again made it clear that he hasn't forgotten what he fought so hard for (after a while, that is). It's an incredible love story on its own; how it managed to wedge itself so nicely into a mockumentary sitcom is borderline phenomenal. It's also why we stuck around.

Tonight's finale takes place six months after the airing of the 'documentary,' as the Dunder-Mifflin gang (past and present) reunites for Dwight and Angela's wedding. It's an hour-long epilogue (with an hour-long preshow), and we can reasonably assume that some of the current Scranton Branch employees will no longer be working where we last saw them. I'm sure Dwight and Angela will. Kevin and Creed? Sure. Stanley and Phyllis? Potentially. Hell, I wouldn't even be surprised if Michael and Holly paid a visit to the East Coast.

But all that really matters is where Jim and Pam end up, and in last week's episode, Pam asked Jim the question we were all asking: "Are you really happy here?" When the series began, Jim and Pam were a bit younger and more apathetic, neither of them thinking that Dunder-Mifflin would be the place where they would be employed for the next decade. And yet, that seemed to be where they ended up, although in a perfect world, they have moved on to a place where they are both happier. Perhaps Pam has a new career in art, while Jim finds a way to continue working in sports marketing in Scranton.

This is also a microcosm for the cast and crew themselves. Surely nobody thought that The Office would be their place of business for nearly 10 years after their invisible first season, but here we all are, excited and optimistic of what the future holds. I guess it all worked out.

The issue of bringing back Arrested Development lies in what we think we want as fans, versus what's best for the legacy and our memories of the show itself. With The Office, we thought we wanted it off the air two years ago, but what we're going to get will remind us that it's nice to not always receive what you asked for.

The Great CD Swap Of 2000.

2013-05-07T00:01:00.000-05:00

(CDP Headquarters CD collection, present day.)

By January of 2000, the Missus and I were a young couple, but not in a way that either of us really wanted to admit. Sure, we had smooched a few times and exchanged around ten letters a day at school, but this was all prefaced by the notion that we were merely enjoying each other’s company and nothing more.

By no means (none!) were we boyfriend/girlfriend; neither of us wanted to be in a committed relationship at that particular point in time. Celia had just broken up with someone, and I had been single for about a year and quite enjoyed the freedoms that accompanied the status (as many bacheloresque freedoms as a 17-year old could logically have, mind you). We treated our relationship as one would treat a gentle new friendship, and took careful steps to preserve its fragility and not scare the other away.

(Celia is wearing her school band uniform; she didn't make a habit of wearing tuxedos to school.)

As you can tell, this was a damp load of horseshit and we both knew it. Whether we ‘wanted’ to be in a committed relationship at the time was completely out of our hands. This was the woman I was going to marry, after all; we only continued to spout nonsense like ‘let’s just see where this goes’ because we were both justifiably terrified of the avalanche of emotions we were feeling for each other. We fell in love hard, but we held back as a courtesy during the feeling out process to test the ice a bit, before we inevitably clasped hands and fell straight through. We didn’t have a prayer.

I’m sure she still has the letter I wrote to her when I came clean. It was manic. Probably one unbroken sentence with reckless disregard for punctuation as I feverishly told her how I didn’t want to be just friends with her and I could no longer pretend that we were just acquaintances that made out all the time and I wanted to spend every waking moment with her and I’m sorry if this scares you away but I needed to tell you because these feelings were killing me and I’m hopelessly desperately and wholeheartedly in love with you forever and ever until the end of time and I want everybody to know.

She concurred. So far, it’s worked out quite well. We got cats and stuff.

One of the initial things that brought us together was our mutual love of music. After all, this courtship all started when I begged Celia and her friends to come see my band play MxPx covers in someone’s backyard. My friends all listened to the same music that I did, but I always felt that I listened to it differently. More passionately. My motives seemed distinctively purer. I understand how egotistical and judgmental these thoughts were, but it appeared from the onset that Celia functioned on a similar wavelength as well. I have no doubt that she felt the same divide between her close friends when it came to the way she consumed music and how it legitimately shaped her life. We were always elitists that way. Still are.

And even though I’m holding 90’s punk rock in an almost supernatural regard, you have to remember the context. I was 17, Celia was 16. This was indeed the driving, defining force of our existence. All of my income went to music and concerts and new drum heads and cargo pants. All of her time was spent in her room dissecting lyrics, scribbling in notebooks and forgetting to feed her goldfish (I began to assume it was immortal after awhile). At that specific point in time, there was no better way to learn about who we were as people than to learn about the music we liked the time.

And that’s exactly what we did.

In a move that I still feel was equal parts clever, romantic, risky, potentially voyeuristic and possibly unprecedented for its time, I proposed a full, 100% swap of our CD collections for one full month. For as much time as we were spending together, we still couldn’t spend every waking moment together, and the Great CD Swap would fill those quiet moments while turning us on to new music (and each other). What better way (besides sex, I suppose) to pull back the curtain and reveal yourself entirely to the person you love?

I cannot remember where this idea came to be, but like most good ideas at that time, I believe it happened in my car. We would take turns playing CDs for each other (I had a blue Discman with a cassette adapter for the first couple years), sometimes appreciating, but usually arguing merits in a way that we both mutually enjoyed. During those early years, I wasn’t interested in Twee and dense, female melodies (Go Sailor, Tiger Trap, The Pooh Sticks, etc.). She had a specific hate for songs about ‘leaving town’ (Less Than Jake, Less Than Jake, Less Than Jake, etc.). I thought the Swap would curb some of these musically xenophobic thoughts where we could find more common ground.

I recall thinking this was a good idea right up until the night I drove all 400 of my CDs to her house. It wasn’t the OCD (“She’s gonna break ‘em. She’s gonna break all of ‘em.”). It wasn’t that I’d miss them (“How will I live without Monkey Kong?”). It was the sudden realization of just how personal a CD collection can be, and how this could potentially affect our relationship in a negative way.

Until this point, she was unaware of my penchant for early 90’s gangsta rap, which was littered with misogyny, violence and homophobia. Would she think this was how I defined myself? Or how about all the George Carlin and Bill Hicks albums, comedians she simply thought were vulgar and substanceless? After several long nights sifting through my past and present, would she start to piece together a synthetic version of me that didn’t quite match up with how I was presenting myself? Could it be that my CD collection subconsciously spoke more about me than my words could ever accomplish? Even though it was too late to back out, I started to seriously believe that this may horribly backfire.

But hey, Celia had skeletons of her own. For her rigid, punk rock exterior, her collection (of about 200) was loaded with a surprising amount of boy bands and female pop vocalists. For every Mr. T Experience or Zoinks! album, there was a 98 Degrees or O-Town there to throw me off. Furthermore, I knew that she made no secret about her Christianity (at the time), but I couldn’t believe just how many Christian punk and ska bands existed on Earth. I swear she owned every Christian 3rd Wave Ska album ever recorded, because after all, how many of them could there have been? (Answer: A shitload.)

Any apprehension I was feeling melted as soon as I got Celia's CDs back to my house, and for this next part of the story, you have to remember something extremely important: It was the year 2000. In the pre-Napster/iPod/streaming music days, you rarely came upon 200 brand spanking new albums to listen to. It was an embarrassment of riches. If you wanted to trade music with someone at the turn of the Century, you still had to trade physical property, and if you had friends like mine, you learned not to do that pretty goddamn quick. For a music lover, it was a buffet of new and interesting sounds that were more or less already on my taste wavelength.

Also, the fact that these were exclusively Celia's made it all the more special; it was like digging directly into her brain. When I listened to each album, I thought about what her mindset was when she decided to purchase it. "Oh, I'm sure she bought this one the day it came out. I bet she bought this one at a concert for the sole purpose of getting to talk to the cute lead singer. She probably bought this album because it was listed in the Thank You section of this other album." Again, this was 2000; the best way to find music was to look at the influences and labelmates of bands you already liked by checking liner notes, a process I miss way more than I thought I would.

I also paid attention to the shape that some of these CDs were in, which was a more CSI-level approach to understanding her tastes. For example, Love Is Dead was scratched to pieces and skipped uncontrollably on a few songs. And her copy of the Angus Soundtrack (easily the greatest film soundtrack ever in both of our opinions) was literally unlistenable by the time it got to me. This pleased me; everything on my end was working out perfectly. I was learning about awesome bands and my new girlfriend at the same time, and more or less reveling in the genius idea that was the Great CD Swap.

Over at Celia's house, there was a bit more filler for her to sift through. I had this idea that in order for me to be a better DJ at parties (something I ended up never actually doing), I needed to consistently buy more Pop and Top 40 records- records I didn't even necessarily like. I was probably the only person who actually played by the rules with Columbia House and BMG, scoring such 90's classics as Cracked Rear View and Jagged Little Pill. I also liked to buy albums on a complete whim under the most bizarre criteria. For example, I once picked up an Acceptance record because I thought they looked like nice guys.

Tell me they don't, though!

But hey, this was inadvertently a better snapshot of my personality than I could have created purposely. I'm like that; sometimes I'm superficial and can't explain my actions, and do things out of spite and pity and because there is absolutely no way I'm leaving Camelot Music without a CD and I don't care what it is. If Celia was going to accept me weirdness and all, she might as well know about my love for Polysics and Softball right off the bat (I really miss Softball).

Celia's foraging tactics were a bit different than mine. Instead of looking at my CD collection as an extension of myself, she looked at it as a way to find more common ground (ie: she played by the rules). For example, in early 2000, I was listening to Saves The Day so much that anyone within a mile of me probably hated them only because of their constant rotation in my car. Celia tolerated my obsession, but their style wasn't exactly in her wheelhouse. However, once she discovered their acoustic EP I'm Sorry I'm Leaving, in particular their cover of Modern English's 'I Melt With You,' her thoughts changed.

Another band she plucked out of sheer curiosity was Republica. I bought the album after seeing the 'Ready To Go' video on M2 during a sick day from school (watch the video and you'll get it), along with a list of other albums scribbled down following an afternoon discovering new, Alternative music. Again, this was literally the best way to find new stuff at the time; the Internet was slim picking and MTV still mattered a tiny bit. Why Celia decided to listen to Republica above any other band is anyone's guess, but she must have found it endearing, because it was the first thing she quizzed me about once we traded everything back and started discussing our findings.

It wasn't long afterward that a noticeable change began to take place when Celia and I would drive around and listen to music. Every now and again, she would ask to listen to one of my albums, or I would request she bring along a few of my favorites. Our tastes began to meld in a way I could have only hoped for, and it's a good thing, too. No less than two years later, our CD collections became permanently intertwined when we moved in together, and that's how they have stayed. The Great CD Swap Of 2000 was a rousing success, and so was our decision to jump head-first into an emotional relationship.

Even now, 13 years later, remnants of the Swap still exist. We'll sometimes find ourselves singing along to an album during an evening drive, when Celia will look at me and inevitably ask: "Is this one yours or mine? I can't remember anymore."

Neither. It's ours.

Where A Kid Can Go Bankrupt & Explode.

2013-04-30T00:01:00.000-05:00

Last weekend, the Missus and I went to Toys-R-Us and saw the above game. I'm a longtime Jenga fan, so I picked up the box for a closer look.

Whew. Glad they cleared that up.

100 Lost Essays.

2013-04-22T00:01:00.000-05:00

Still here, still super. Here are a few CDP-related things to start off the week:

1. You'll notice that the archiving in the sidebar has changed from monthly to weekly. A while back, I noticed that the monthly archiving was omitting several posts for some reason (probably because there are nearly 1300 of them), which meant that when you clicked on a monthly archive link, you were missing out on a lot of essays. With weekly archiving, everything appears to be back to where it's supposed to be.

So check it out! You may discover that there were dozens of 'lost' CDP essays you didn't read simply because they weren't listed in the former archives. Even I discovered quite a few things that I had completely forgotten I had written because I was also used to the bizarrely-edited monthly archives. Pretty neat.

2. The next chapter of the 'Let's Go To The Hospital!' saga will arrive soon. Essays have been scarce due to a abnormally large time away from my computer. It's like, real life or something. Either way, it's scary and I plan on remedying the situation as soon as possible.

3. I was initially working on allowing Facebook comments on here, but it's become a formatting nightmare. If you think you would comment more if FB comments were enabled, please let me know. Otherwise I'm keeping it the way it is, and you can just comment on my actual Facebook page.

4. Podcast, podcast, podcast! Yes, I'm considering it.

Sound off in the comments section and enjoy your day.

Let's Go To The Hospital! (Part 1)

2013-04-15T00:01:00.000-05:00

I got sick on Easter. It was a day of shaking hands, eating potluck food and hanging around with people (and immune systems) that I normally wouldn't fraternize with. By the time I was driving home that evening, I felt that little tickle in the back of my throat; the warning sign that whispers, "You're about to feel like wet garbage for the next three weeks, and there's not a gall garwshdarn thing you can do about it."

My inner voice sometimes sounds like a grizzled prospector.

Right on cue, I woke up the next day with my (severely) sore throat swollen almost completely shut, and my nostrils following suit. I had practically sweat right through the mattress of my bed (moreso than usual), and the Missus said she got about two hours of sleep due to the horrible noises I was making.

"Sorry about that," I tried to say with as much conviction as possible, but 10 straight hours of coughing had turned my voicebox to static. I sounded like Harvey Fierstein.

I called in sick. Not because I couldn't drag myself into work and just sit there motionless for the day, but because I knew that once they heard me, I would be chastised and thrown out of the office for being a compassionless turd who didn't think of the health and well-being of others. If you develop a cough in a white collar environment, you might as well have your rotten limbs and digits falling off in clumps, because you're the Office Leper until further notice. It's pointless to go to work when you're clearly infectious.

I tried to take care of myself with a combo of NyQuil and Aleve 'Cold and Sinus,' a drug that you can no longer get over-the-counter due to meth addicts, I guess. You now have to ask for it by name at the pharmacy, show your Driver's License and literally sign a contract that says you won't use the medication to produce meth.

I've had to go through this process a few times now, and it always gives me an anxiety attack. I only need this stuff when I'm scraggly and sick out of my mind, so I can only imagine what I look like when I'm asking for the medication while frantically tapping my debit card on the counter. I'm certain they have never once believed I was going to use Aleve 'Cold and Sinus' for its intended purpose. Their problem, but it's still an annoying Catch-22.

For the entire week after Easter, I alternated between going to work and taking sporadic afternoons off. I wasn't getting better, my voice was thoroughly trashed (phone calls and speaking at meetings was an impossibility) and I was falling asleep at 7:30 each night to no avail. I didn't want to go to the doctor, but I feared pneumonia or bronchitis, so early the following week, I finally caved.

I've only had pneumonia once, and from what I heard from my mother, it nearly killed me shortly after I was born. Health-wise, I think it's the closest I've ever been to actually dying due to illness. Bronchitis was something I've had once or twice, and each time I let it run its course with limited medication (which is stupid). It was time to get proactive, albeit nine days after the fact.

I drove myself to Urgent Care at 10am on a Tuesday, which is something I've done exactly one other time in my life. My wife, on the other hand, is an Urgent Care VIP. If hospitals had a Preferred Customer Club, she'd have accumulated enough frequent flier miles to take us straight into the Sun. I'm quite stubborn when it comes to breaking down and seeing a doctor for something, but when green shit is propelling itself from my lungs, I'm not dumb enough to sit around and be passive.

When I checked in at the hospital, they asked me what my problem was. I told them I had a bad cold, a bad cough and wanted some antibiotics. The word 'cough' triggered immediate action from the clerks, who handed me a surgical mask to put on, as to not potentially infect anyone else in the waiting room.

Me, being sort of a narcissist (even at the hospital), didn't listen. I sort of said "uh-huh" and walked away stuffing the mask into my pocket. I was fine, and furthermore, I was a grown man. I could go 10 minutes in a waiting room without having to cough. I wasn't going to bother anyone; it was no big deal.

At the next hurdle of the check-in process, I was handed a clipboard with some questions on it. One of them was: "Were you given a surgical mask to wear?" Now, I didn't want to get someone fired by lying, so I checked "Yes" and handed the clipboard back to the receptionist when she was distracted by a phone call, hoping that by the time she put two-and-two together, I would already be back in my car and halfway to the pharmacy.

I quietly sat in the corner of the waiting room and felt fortunate that there were only two other people in there. On the multitude of occasions where I've had to bring my wife in, the place is usually stacked to the rafters with plague-infested Walkers. I played Minesweeper on my phone and patiently waited my turn.

Then my throat started to tickle. I had to cough.

I contained myself for the first couple minutes, but there's apparently nothing more difficult than suppressing a cough (much to my idiotic surprise). I coughed quietly into the crook of my arm a few times before I started to worry that I would be caught without a surgical mask on. I fantasized that some silent alarm would go off behind the reception desk, triggering a wave of CDC agents to swarm and toss me directly into quarantine. As clandestine as I could, I snuck into the bathroom where I proceeded to invite a coughing fit that lasted the better part of five minutes. I coughed so hard I nearly peed my pants. Thankfully, they didn't call my name while I was indisposed.

When I got back to my seat (still not wearing my mask), I noticed a mother and her daughter seated nearby. The little girl was adorable; probably about 4-years old with a Spring dress and a bow in her hair. I watched her and her mother interact for a few minutes; she was very reserved and well-behaved. Then she coughed.

The noise that emitted from this child was other-worldly. I was convinced that she was recently retrieved from some South American coalmine disaster. There was simply no known disease on the face of the Earth that would make someone sound like this. In a panic, I strapped on my crumpled surgical mask as fast as possible. You win, urgent care; whatever this 4-year old had would've most certainly ended my life.

When my name was finally called, I sat with a nurse for a few minutes and did the whole questionnaire thing you have to do before seeing an actual physician. This is my favorite part of the hospital visit, because I like being asked questions and I know I'm giving them the right answers.

"Allergies?" "Nope."
"Do you smoke?" "Nope."
"Drugs?" "Nope."
"STD's?" "Nope."
"Vegetarian?" "Totes."

The exact opposite of this is the Dentist, where everything I tell them is either incorrect or a lie.

Just before the nurse left, she told me that the doctor was going to listen to my lungs, so I had to take my shirt off and put on a gown. I have no problem taking my shirt off, but I find the gown (for a man) to be pointless. Why can't I just sit there shirtless? I'm assuming it's for the emotional well-being of anyone who has to see me, but I find it far more palatable than having to impossibly navigate a hospital gown. It's like an MC Escher sketch; no reasonable configuration makes sense.

For the next 20 minutes, I sat there in my gown and mask waiting for the doctor. At one point, another nurse popped in and told me that they "hadn't forgotten about me." All I could think about was how there were no other people in the waiting room but myself and Zombie Coalmine Girl; what was the holdup?

Nonetheless, the doctor finally showed up and started listening to my lungs. Whenever a doctor uses their stethoscope on me, I instinctively revert to Manual Breathing Mode and become incredibly hyper-conscious of how I inhale and exhale. I'm certain I always skew the results. She said my lungs "sounded great," though, and started rubbing around on my temples and oily T-zone.

"Does that hurt?" She asked as she was massaging the bridge of my nose.

"Um...actually that feels pretty good," I said, a little too honestly.

"It's a sinus infection," she said. She prescribed me a "bungload" (medical term) of amoxicillin and sent me on my way. As I was leaving, I could hear Coalmine Girl hacking up a lung in an adjacent room. I shuddered and quickened my pace.

As I write this, it's Saturday, April 13. It's been nearly two weeks since I first got sick, and I'm still having all sorts of (thankfully dissipating) symptoms. Either this was one hell of an infection, or I'm getting older and my immune system is becoming weaker to such volatile intrusions. Since turning 31, I've sort of declared myself legally dead to the world, so perhaps it's more of a psychological anti-placebo than anything. All I know for sure is that these pills are the size of water softener pellets and digesting them requires complete disregard of my gag reflex.

I'm lucky, though. If this is the thing that sends me to the hospital, I'll deal with it. Just a few hours spent watching TLC will remind you that there are millions of people worse off; I could have been born with tree limbs for arms, for Christ's sake. Or a parasitic twin growing out the base of my spine that does nothing but chain smoke and tell racist jokes all day. Pretty sure I've seen both of those.

More than anything, I'm just hoping this will get me out of attending Easter next year.

The Walking Dead Friday - 'Welcome To The Tombs.'

2013-04-04T09:55:00.000-05:00

Season 3 - Episode 16: 'Welcome To The Tombs.'

The Season Finale of The Walking Dead Friday is upon us. We have much to discuss.

I know everyone's going to have their own personal opinion about this episode, and as a viewer, I always attempt to differentiate between what I want as a fan, and what I feel would be good for the show as a whole. With that being said, I wasn't all that satisfied as a fan, and I'm having a hard time understanding how Sunday's finale was good for the series as a whole, either.

In my head, it sort of seemed like a cut-and-dry finale that would have satisfied everyone: Rick and the Governor go to war, there are a couple of high-profile deaths, the Governor meets his fate and Rick's crew are forced to hobble out of the prison and into their next adventure. That's what we expected, and I also believe it's what we wanted. The last thing Walking Dead fans want a flashback to is the eternity spent hanging around Hershel's farm in Season 2.

But yet, here we are. Andrea and Milton are dead, but that's not going to keep anyone up at night. Rick and company are still at the prison, now with a few dozen more mouths to feed in the form of women and children that will serve them no protection in the event of another invasion. Oh, and the Governor's still out there, but it's anyone's guess if we'll ever see him again. It was vague, anticlimactic and didn't excite me one bit for Season 4. In fact, I feel that almost nothing was accomplished here in the grand scheme of things.

Character-wise, Rick's in a better place (he's not seeing Lori anymore), and he's attempting to bring some sort of human domesticity to Carl before he goes completely psychotic, but that doesn't always make for riveting television. Maggie and Glen are going to get married, Carol and Daryl might get closer as they bond after losing Merle, and Michonne and Tyreese will probably get to know each other better as well (if the comic has any say in it).

But is this what we're interested in, first and foremost? Not me. I wanted to see justice for a Governor that slowly descended into madness, slaughtered dozens of innocent people and put Rick and company through hell. I wanted to see someone, anyone that had a reason (and there were plenty), inflict some backwoods justice on one of TV's great bad guys. I wanted to see a change of location. You'd think that at least one of these things would happen, but nothing did.

Not even Andrea's death was all that surprising. I said last week that her character had fallen so far outside the realm of being accepted back into the good graces of the fans, that nothing short of killing the Governor would save her from dying this week. And I was right, but being right didn't make the episode any more or less interesting. Sunday's episode ran five minutes over, and my friends didn't know that, so they were nervous as 10pm was approaching, afraid that we were going to get some sort of 'To Be Continued' ending. I told them not to fear, and that we'd surely get the closure we thought we deserved during the five minute overrun. Nope.

So, what do we do now? Where does Season 4 take us? I'm not sure, but I have a pretty good idea of where it's going to start: Back at the same prison we hung around in all last season, with no firm resolution in Woodbury and more hypothetical scenarios than actual action. The tension and action that picked up once Rick and company left Hershel's farm was what made The Walking Dead the most popular show on television (literally). To hit the brakes with such a lackluster final ten minutes seemed like quite a misstep, if only in the short-term.

But shit, what do I know? Maybe the Season 4 premiere will be Rick, Daryl and Michonne sitting around a wooden spool, bringing the fans up to speed on the last few months of storyline:

"Boy, we sure killed the Governor good, didn't we?"

"Yup, and remember when all those Woodbury refugees just up and disappeared in the middle of the night? That sure helped in regards to our supplies."

"Absolutely. And remember when we ditched the prison for Woodbury, because they had water and beds and shit?"

I don't know.

Let’s take this episode behind the shed and put it out of its misery, because it’s time for The Thick And Meaty!

Despite all the work he put into his snazzy torture chamber, the Governor leaves the murder of Andrea up to Milton for some reason. When Milton refuses, the Governor mortally wounds him, leaving Milton to turn and (presumably) attack Andrea while she’s all tied up and whatnot. Upon leaving, the Governor says, “In this life now, you kill or you die…or you die and you kill,” which is one of the better catchphrases I’ve heard this season.

Meanwhile, Rick and company are preparing for war. In Woodbury, they do the same. Tyreese and Sasha tell the Governor that they’re going to hang back at base camp to protect the women and children (that’s the job I would have volunteered for, too). The Governor, who seems to be slowly losing his patience with anything and everything on Earth, reluctantly agrees.

The Governor and his people storm the prison, using all manner of weapons to decimate the exterior (a rocket launcher?!). Once they get inside, it appears to be abandoned, until they are ambushed by Rick’s crew and hastily flee. And hey, say what you want about the Governor, but he’s not hanging back like a coward; dude is in the front lines, looking to kill people. I admire that in a leader.

A Woodbury teenager encounters Carl and Hershel in the woods while fleeing. Carl asks him to drop his weapon, but then decides to kill him anyway before really seeing what he was going to do. Carl later justifies his actions to Rick by saying that the teen didn’t drop his weapon, a claim that Hershel disputes…but not me. I feel that this was war and the teenager didn’t act quickly enough. Carl had every right to be afraid and defensive. But I understand that they’re trying to drive the plot point that Carl is becoming cold and detached, and Rick needs to create some sort of domesticity so he doesn’t snap completely, so I’ll go with it.

In the chamber, Milton lets Andrea know that he left a pair of pliers behind her chair. Then he totally dies.

Outside of the prison, the Governor orders his convoy to stop. When they almost unanimously express desire to return to Woodbury and leave Rick’s group alone, the Governor goes on a shooting rampage and kills most of them (except for a couple of his right-hand men). Karen plays dead and is spared when the Governor runs out of bullets, and he leaves her behind. This, right here, is the Governor in his purest form. He went from a justifiably bad guy to a complete lunatic in the span of this season, and I think it was a commendable performance by David Morrissey, even if I don’t really want to see him return in Season 4.

Rick asks Carl about the teenager he killed. Carl mentions that Dale, Lori and Merle all died because they didn’t seize the opportunity to kill potential threats when they arose. Point taken, Carl.

Rick, Michonne and Daryl head off to Woodbury to finish the job, when they encounter the massacre the Governor left behind, as well as the surviving Karen. Meanwhile, Milton reanimates and advances on Andrea, who gets bitten just before killing him for realsies. Rick’s group shows up just in time to realize that Andrea isn’t going to make it. Andrea apologizes for her actions, then promptly shoots herself in the head (off-camera).

The episode ends with Rick’s group returning to the prison with a school bus full of the women and children that were huddling at Woodbury (including Tyreese, Sasha and Karen). Carl’s pissed. Oh, and because of all this closure (to Rick at least), he’s no longer seeing visions of Lori.

Smash cut, season over! Now let’s Break It Down!

1. Regardless of if I thought this was a good episode or not, the ratings were predictably massive, drawing an all-time high of 12.4 million viewers. This makes it not only the most-watched episode of the series to date, but the most-watched drama in the history of cable TV. Every single week, this show is making history in one way or another.

2. This episode was written by the (now departed) showrunner/executive producer Glen Mazzara. Good luck in Season 4, Scott Gimple; expectations for success are more than a little high.

3. AMC sent a press release shortly after the finale to let people know that David Morrissey would be returning as the Governor in Season 4, so don’t expect him to stay M.I.A. for very long.

4. This episode marks the final appearances of both Andrea and Milton, and although Michael Rooker was credited, he was the only main cast member to not appear (cuz’ he’s dead, you know).

5. With Andrea’s death, Carol (of all people) becomes the last surviving female from the original Atlanta group. Furthermore, Andrea’s death also leaves only five members of the original Atlanta group remaining (Rick, Carl, Carol, Daryl and Glenn).

And with that, we’re done with The Walking Dead for Season 3. Sound off in the comments section and enjoy your weekend. The CDP will return shortly with regularly-scheduled essays and pop culture goodness all the way through Spring, so stick around.

The Wild Stallion 5.0.

2013-04-03T00:01:00.000-05:00

My first car was a 1986 Buick Somerset (shown above). In 1998 (at age 16) I paid $200 for it with my own money as a bartender (I've told this story before). It was massive, it was embarrassing, and as most cars go, it housed some of my most cherished memories. Even when I eventually sold it (for $50), it still worked as perfectly as you could hope for.

The Somerset was unique for its age in that it had a fully digital dashboard. The mileage, speedometer and fuel gauge were all LED displayed, and there was even a button that allowed you to toggle over to metric. I liked switching it when I drove my younger sister around; I'd drive 70 MPH, and it would display 113, which always seemed to terrify her.

Eventually I hit a deer with it (with the Somerset's hulking front end, it didn't stand a chance), but as parts for this car were impossible to come by, I had to compromise by zip-tying the headlights into an ill-fitting replacement grill. From that day forward, I couldn't see anything when I drove after sunset; the tops of the telephone lines and the ditch were plenty illuminated, but that was about it.

That was The Wild Stallion, and like most First Car Relationships, I cherished it.

Like I said, I eventually had to sell the Somerset and 'upgrade' to a 1993 Ford Tempo in 2001. All I really remember about this car is:

1. It had well over 250,000 miles on it before I even turned the key on.
2. Every single thing inside of this car was broken.

Everything. Every light, every knob and every button was faulty. Nothing worked, nothing. I would blow a fuse every time I tried to jury-rig my CD player in there, which led me to keeping a spare hundred or so fuses in the glove compartment.

It never broke down, though. As legend has it, some still see this car rolling around the streets of Winneconne with a Mediocre At Best sticker on the trunk, odometer creeping closer and closer to 1,000,000 miles.

Upon moving to Madison, I purchased 'The Wild Stallion 3.0' in 2004, which was a 1997 Escort Wagon. I really quite enjoyed driving a wagon: I'm never one to be too self-conscious about the cars I drive, and it held all my groceries and corpses and whatnot. The only reason I sold it was that my in-laws wanted to sell me their old vehicle at a price I couldn't refuse (more on that in a second).

The Escort allowed us to move to two different apartments without the assistance (and fees) of professional movers. I strapped the mattress to the roof; the whole nine yards. However, there were some costly repairs that begin to become commonplace, so I had to see it for cheap and start over again.

In 2007, I bought a 2002 Mercury Sable that I drove until about two weeks ago. It was roomy, it had Climate Control (and a cassette player!) and a kickass engine. It belonged to my father-in-law, a auto enthusiast that good very good care of it, and was always kind enough to share knowledge on repairs and certain behaviors. Unfortunately, time was not on the 'Wild Stallion 4.0's side, and the amount of repairs and fixes once again became insurmountable.

The Missus determined that we needed a new car. I was leery, not only because cars are sort of expensive, but also because I've never purchased a 'new' car in my life. I didn't understand the process and I didn't know if we could afford one. When the Missus gets an idea in her head, though, it expands with life until it completely transcends argument and logic. By the time she was done with me, it wasn't so much "How can we afford a new car?" as "How could we afford not to?"

The Wild Stallion 5.0 is a 2013 Ford C-Max hybrid. It's astoundingly energy efficient, runs on a combination of gas and electric, and can get nearly 45MPG under normal circumstances. I think it's purty, but it blends in nicely with society and doesn't drive or feel like some of the earlier, flimsier hybrids. This car is roomy, heavy and fast.

There are a ton of settings that allow you to monitor how efficiently you're driving, which is pretty cool, although I have no idea how to change my driving in order to be 'better' at it. The Sync system allows for hands-free everything, and to my surprise, it's actually quite receptive. And even though satellite radio is completely unnecessary, I know I'm going to keep subscribing to it for the all 90's channel.

I've never driven anything even close to a vehicle like this, and I almost had to re-learn the art of Driving in order to properly manhandle it. There seems to be a whole lot going on at once behind the wheel of this thing, but after an hour or so of tooling around the neighborhood and forgetting to look out the windshield for minutes at a time, I think I've got it mostly figured out.

So after 15 years of used relics, I can finally say I have a new car. The wrinkled hand of Fate will probably put me in an accident by the end of the week that throws me back to square one, but that's a risk I'm going to have to take. The Wild Stallion 5.0 is go.

Sound off in the comments section and enjoy your day. The Walking Dead Friday arrives in less than 48 hours.

The Walking Dead Monday - Caption Edition.

2013-04-01T00:01:00.000-05:00

("Excuse me, miss? Would you happen to know where...nevermind. Goodbye.")

("PACKERS!!!")

("You know what? This is fun. I never get to take you out to the park anymore.")

(Dale launches into Hour 3 of his story about meeting Adam West.)

("Allow me to illustrate our intimate future by tightly clasping my hands together. Got it?")

("ADMIT IT! While the Blue Album was more commercially successful and musically accessible on a Pop level, the themes, songwriting and musicianship of Pinkerton make it the better album in the long run, when you take critical acclaim, personal resonance and genre influence into account. ADMIT IT!!!")

(“If we don’t live together, we’re going to die alone. Come on, didn’t any of you losers watch Lost?”)

(Lori returns from the grave just to tell Rick she’s still having sex with Shane in Hell.)

("I should buy a boat.")

(Michonne watches in horror as Rick begins to slow dance with a walker.)

("You know what I really like about this place, Carol? The fact that my skull has exactly the right number of holes in it.")

("YESSSSS.")

(The front row of every Mumford and Sons concert.)

("Hello? Could you please…AAUGH! It's Rick Grimes! Get me the hell outta here!")

("WE'RE OUT OF THOUSAND ISLAND IS FRENCH OKAY?")

I'm still sort of busy, but things are smoothing out as we speak. I should have something for you on Wednesday, followed by the Season Finale of The Walking Dead Friday to round out the week, kicking off a whole bunch of new essays as we barrel into Spring. Sound off in the comments section and enjoy your day.

The Walking Dead Friday - 'This Sorrowful Life.'

2013-03-29T00:01:00.000-05:00

Season 3 - Episode 15: 'This Sorrowful Life.'

The penultimate Walking Dead Friday is upon us. We have much to discuss; I’m limping all over the house.

A couple of days ago, I started experiencing pain in my left instep. I’ve been doing a lot of general walking around over the last week in a feeble attempt to stave off the Reaper for another pointless year, so I figured I just overexerted myself a bit and it would heal on its own with adequate rest. Then I promptly forgot all about that and spent the entirety of Wednesday afternoon briskly sauntering around downtown Madison.

I’m an idiot when it comes to pain. Once something that was hurting me stops hurting me, I sort of assume it will never come back again, and that’s how I treated my foot on Wednesday. I was pinwheeling, grapevining and Electric Sliding my way through the city (as is my custom), eating expensive cupcakes and sampling the most disgusting of cheeses. It’s how I prefer to spend my afternoons alone.

When I went to sleep Wednesday night, I felt okay. When I woke up and stepped out of bed Thursday morning, my entire leg nearly collapsed as if it were ravaged by termites. My left foot was nearly useless, and I had to spend the entire day Tiny Tim’ming it up just to get from place to place at work.

I guess I tore a muscle in my instep or arch or something. All I know is that it hurts like hell and my limp is borderline scary to see; if I went to the doctor they’d probably give me crutches, or in true Tiny Tim fashion, one short, crudely-cobbled crutch. Oh, and one of those adorable newsie caps that old people and lesbians wear.

“Wow,” my wife said on Thursday morning. “You’re really limping around.”
“Yeah, I think I tore a muscle.”
“That happened to me once. In both feet.” (Advantage: Missus) 
“Oh yeah? What did you do for it?”
“Nothing. Just rest and aspirin.”
“Outstanding.” 

So, that’s where I’m at. If you happen to see me gangster-leaning down the streets of Sun Prairie this weekend, please don’t make fun of me, and please don’t ask me to run down to the Poulterer’s and buy the prized turkey that’s ‘as big as me whole body.’ Let’s move on.

This week’s episode of The Walking Dead was fairly unexpected (to me, at least). In a season filled with the predictable (the death of T-Dog) to the pleasantly surprising (a phenomenal episode centered around Morgan), we got a set up for the finale that we wanted, but not in the way we predicted.

I mean, we knew that Rick was going to have a change of heart regarding giving Michonne up in exchange for a truce (although I cannot believe he actually thought it would work). We knew that the battle lines would be perfectly set for a final showdown between Rick and the Governor (although there are others who have a bigger gripe and justification for being the one to actually murder the Governor).

What we didn’t know that this would be the week we not only mourn the death of a major character, but get one of the all-time best TWD acting performances from a Mr. Michael Rooker. And goddamn did he deliver.

Henry: Portrait Of A Serial Killer is one of the bleakest, rawest and most disturbing serial killer movies ever made, but it’s also probably the best (I say ‘best’ considering the subject matter). If you’ve seen it (and you should for historical purposes), you’ll understand immediately why there was nobody else on Earth more equipped to play Merle as Rooker. I remember renting the VHS from Express Video as a kid (they didn’t give a shit about ID in my hometown), and it broke my brain for a few days. Good movies do that sometimes, although I don’t own it nor do I have any intention of ever watching it again.

Rooker’s filmography is absolutely massive, but I still don’t understand why he hasn’t been handed more critically-acclaimed and potential award-winning roles (the Mickey Rourke parts, if you will). This man seemingly does well in everything he touches, and I’m hoping his time as Merle Dixon refreshes the collective memories of casting directors the next time they’re looking for a demented older guy. On a zombie show that somehow put together a classically-trained group of powerhouse actors, Rooker could roll with any of them in any circumstance.

RIP, Merle Dixon. In your honor, I drank straight from a bottle of Jack Daniels last night while blaring Motorhead from my 1986 Buick Somerset (I would’ve done this regardless, however). Now let’s get to The Green And Leafy!

Merle died.

Smash cut, whiskey drank, episode over. Now let’s Break It Down!

1. Sunday’s episode did a 10.99 rating, which is still astronomical but lower than their all-time series high of 12.26. Even in the face of March Madness, this show is still watched by more people than any other on cable television. To once again put this into perspective, WWE Monday Night Raw normally pulls in a rating of 3.5, which until the premiere of The Walking Dead, was enough to make it the highest-rated show on cable nearly every week. It’s a statistical anomaly to say the least.

2. ‘This Sorrowful Life’ was written by Scott Gimple, who will serve as the showrunner next season, replacing Glen Mazzara (who replaced Frank Darabont). Mazzara was heralded for being the guy that finally got Rick and company ‘off the farm,’ and here’s hoping that Gimple keeps things moving at a breakneck pace once they flee the prison and hit the road.

3. Andrea is the only main cast member to not appear in this episode, which by proxy makes it the greatest episode of any television show in history so far.

4. This episode also marks the first death of a main character since Lori Grimes bit it (and got bit) in Season 3, Episode 4.

5. The Season 3 finale, ‘Welcome To The Tombs,’ will air on Easter Sunday, which I find highly entertaining for a number of reasons. First off, on a weekend where no other new shows are airing (for fear of a holiday ratings hit), The Walking Dead couldn’t give a shit less. Secondly, I like the connotations of a ‘dead rising from the grave’ show airing on a holiday where that supposedly happened in real life.

That’s all I have for you this week. Sound off in the comments section and enjoy your weekend. Next week on the CDP, I’ll have more new stuff and an extra Walking Dead Friday post as we celebrate the Season 3 finale.

Later, ‘taters.

Season 1 - Episode 1 Review.
Season 1 - Episode 2 Review.
Season 1 - Episode 3 Review.
Season 1 - Episode 4 Review.
Season 1 - Episode 5 Review.
Season 1 - Episode 6 Review.
Season 3 - Episode 9 Review.
Season 3 - Episode 10 Review.
Season 3 - Episode 11 Review.
Season 3 - Episode 12 Review.
Season 3 - Episode 14 Review.

We're Making Bank Tonight, Baby.

2013-03-27T00:01:00.000-05:00

Miss Carly Casper, a CDP Alumni if there ever was one, has recently picked up a guitar and started writing songs. Swarming Things is the culmination of about six months of guitar practice and (I assume) a lifetime of singing and writing lyrics.

I wasn't entirely sure what I was in for when I listened for the first time, but you know what? I really like it. Her guitar playing will only get better and eventually catch up with her voice and songwriting, and I can't imagine she won't be ten times as good a year from now. Check it out and give her a listen; I always have encouraged peeps to use any available outlet to express yourself, and the fact that she's only been putting stuff together for six months is quite impressive, in my opinion. Good on you, little lady.

This has also reminded me that I need to add CDP Alumni links over in the sidebar again, and I'll get to that soon (before the end of the year, at least). It'll totally happen.

Sound off in the comments section and enjoy your day. The Walking Dead Friday arrives in less than 48 hours.

Give Me All The Pomade You Have (Again).

2013-03-25T00:01:00.000-05:00

(Busy couple of weeks; I'm refinancing the house, the Missus got a new job, my Photoshop won't work for some reason, and I've got a SECRET AWESOME THING to show you once I jump through all the hoops in which to obtain it. So I've got to lay sort of low for a bit. Until I'm back on the bike, enjoy this Wayback Essay from 2010. Thanks!)

It took me until about the age of 20 before I realized that you could get your hair cut at places that were stationed outside of a mall. As a man that didn’t pay attention or care too much about the quality or well-being of his hairstyle, I had always just gone to the easiest, cheapest place.

For the better part of a decade, this destination was exclusively Cost Cutters.

Going to Cost Cutters deep into in your teen years feels similar to the last few Halloweens you celebrate before you start to become acutely aware of your age. You begin to take notice of the clientele around you; notice the relative age of the stylists versus the customers. Once the realization hits that maybe you should start frequenting a different barber (say, the Master Cuts by the Aqua Massage kiosk, perhaps), it feels akin to being naked in public. All you want to do is disappear.

I remember the last time I ever set foot in a Cost Cutters. I was alone, reading a magazine in the red-and-yellow waiting area (it always looked like a McDonalds in there), when a grown man came shuffling through the door. He looked to be in his mid-to-late 40’s, wiry-thin with glasses and a ragged outfit on.

“Hello,” he said to the pre-teen working the counter. “Is Sarah working today?”

“I’m sorry,” she replied, “But Sarah has the day off.”

“Good,” the man muttered back, turning slowly to his left to reveal a massive bald spot that was seemingly gouged out of his scalp by accident. Presumably by Sarah. He took a seat next to me and exhaled deeply.

He was defeated. He didn't care. He was me in ten years.

Without making a scene, I gently set the Store Copy of People magazine on the table and hit the road. It had been a decent enough relationship, but at that moment, I knew that Cost Cutters and I were officially through.

The Walking Dead Friday - 'Prey.'

2013-03-22T00:01:00.000-05:00

Season 3 - Episode 14: 'Prey.'

After a week off, The Walking Dead Friday is upon us with a special feature!

Life is all about decisions, and with only two episodes left before the Season 3 finale, our beloved apocalypse survivors will need to make nothing but good decisions in order to keep collecting paychecks come Season 4. But hey, they're sharp, aren't they? After all, they've lasted this long, and surely only the brightest, strongest and most finely-evolved humans could hack it over a year in a zombie-festered wasteland, right?

Well...

This is a little thing I'd like to call: What Would Andrea Do?

The object of this game is simple. I'll give you a Zombie Apocalypse scenario, and you tell me not what the best decision would be, but what you believe Andrea would do in such a situation. Got it? Let's go.

1. After several days of trust issues, you verify that your part-time lover and town leader (The Governor) is building a torture chamber just days after meeting with Rick Grimes and proposing a 'truce.' You expect this 'truce' to be a lie, because...you know...the torture chamber and all. What Would Andrea Do?

A.) Kill the Governor and anyone who stood in your way (or anyone who pinched your gun with his fruity fingers in a feeble attempt to prevent bloodshed).

B.) See how this plays out. Maybe he's an aspiring dentist or something.

(The Governor prepares for Woodbury's rendition of Cirque Du Soleil.)

2. You decide to flee Woodbury because you're convinced a war is about to go down. Your plan is to travel back to the prison on foot to warn Rick, all while dodging who knows how many zombies along the way. What Would Andrea Do?

A.) Slink away under cover of night, armed to the teeth.

B.) Leave during the day, in the middle of a weapon-gathering mandate, armed only with a buck knife, and explaining your plan to the very guards assigned to keep you from leaving, knowing full well that this information could end up in the wrong hands.

("His head exploded!")

3. Despite wandering into a clearing with no overhead cover whatsoever, you manage to evade the Governor long enough to seek shelter for the night in an abandoned factory. After a lengthy standoff, you somehow manage to separate the Governor from his truck and place him in temporary danger. What Would Andrea Do?

A.) Take three seconds to see if the Governor left his keys in the truck. Three seconds, tops.

B.) Run away, exhausted and lost, further into the night.

Andrea was chock-full of terrible decisions this week, mixed with flashes of either brilliance or lazy writing. For example, how did she manage to find the prison on foot, despite only being there once before, and initially traveling there by road? Oh, and at no point between the walk back to the Governor's truck, the drive back to Woodbury, and the walk through the town to get locked up in Uncle Touchy's Naked Puzzle Basement, could you do anything to get anyone's attention? Nothing?

Fine. I sincerely don't care.

(How Tarantino was this ending, by the way?)

In the comics, Andrea is a strong-willed crack shot. On the show, she has reached Lori-esque levels of idiot frustration and whore annoyance. As a fan, I feel her small window of vindication has all but disappeared, and unless she kills the Governor herself (and she might), the audience will never accept her back into Rick's group with open arms. If she isn't the one to murder the Governor in the season finale (it could be Michonne or even Milton), then she should die during the shootout. At least, that's what I would do.

They're really going to have to make her a sympathetic character (in a hurry) in order to get back into the good graces of fickle TWD fans that blame her for everything, which boils down to the Governor beating the crap out of her for a little while before she's rescued so we all feel bad for saying such mean things about her. Weird as it sounds, it all makes sense.

In other Good Decision/Bad Decision news:

1. MILTON - He stopped Andrea from killing the Governor, is a shitty liar and had the audacity to wear an absolutely horrid shirt...but he did torch the zombie pit.

(Goodwill refused to accept this shirt even after the downfall of society.)

2. TYREESE - He lacked the logic to keep his mouth shut when Andrea told him that the Governor was crazy...but it looks like he's starting to realize the error of his ways. Again, if he is to eventually join Rick's group with open arms, he needs to have a complete about-face by the end of the season.

3. ALLEN - He gave Tyreese shit about protecting his late wife...but he'll be the first to die when the gunfire starts, which I consider a good decision, whether he had anything to do with it or not.

4. THE GOVERNOR - He somehow failed to secure the catwalk in his torture chamber...but he did successfully track down Andrea and slaughter about a dozen walkers in the process. Furthermore, he put together that badass Johnny Cash outfit.

(I cannot hate a man who looks this cool.)

5. RICK'S CREW - Why are you letting the guy that had admitted to vivid hallucinations man the guard tower? No excuse.

If you're a fan of this show, you've probably entertained the fantasy of how well you may fare if the dead were to rise up and prey on the living. You may think you wouldn't last a day or week, perhaps. After 'Prey,' however, I think we've been selling ourselves a bit short.

I'm done. Sound off in the comments section and enjoy your weekend. I'll be back next week with some new stuff.

Season 1 - Episode 1 Review.
Season 1 - Episode 2 Review.
Season 1 - Episode 3 Review.
Season 1 - Episode 4 Review.
Season 1 - Episode 5 Review.
Season 1 - Episode 6 Review.
Season 3 - Episode 9 Review.
Season 3 - Episode 10 Review.
Season 3 - Episode 11 Review.
Season 3 - Episode 12 Review.

Nuclear (Nielsen) Family - Part 5.

2013-03-15T00:01:00.000-05:00

SATURDAY. 

Saturday began early (10am!) with a knock on the door. My family had arrived to help clean the house, and fortunately for my regular TV viewing habits, my 6-year-old nephew came along for the ride. I had a couple of shows I wanted to share with him.

12:30-1:00 – Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (DVR – NICK) 
1:00-1:30 – WWE Saturday Morning Slam (DVR – CW) 

The TMNT reboot is fantastic, with Nickelodeon already ordering a ton of new episodes to meet fan demand. I’m also doing my best to introduce Evan to pro wrestling early by watching the (kid-friendly) Saturday Morning Slam with him. You may be thinking I was just doing this to take a well-deserved break from cleaning, and…well, you’d also be right.

A handful of hours later, and my house was spotless; as clean as it ever was in advance of our refinancing. My only goal between now and appraisal day was to not touch anything. As far as I was concerned, my house was a museum exhibit. The Missus and I purposely made sure that our evening was completely free so we could relax, grab some dinner and bask in a job well done. 

4:00-4:30 – Degrassi (DVR – TeenNick) 

Degrassi is Celia’s jam, and quite an important TV show in the grand scheme of things. After over 350 episodes spanning nearly 20 years, this Canadian melodrama seems to be as popular as ever (at least in my house it is). I’ve never seen another human being, myself included, blaze through so many episodes of television in a futile attempt to catch up than Celia has with the Degrassi universe. She’s been watching for at least three months straight, and I think she’s only up to 2001. 

4:30-5:30 – Kentucky at Arkansas (Live – CBS) 

A lot of my most treasured TV moments revolve around sports, no more so than in 1996 and 1998, when my beloved Kentucky Wildcats won the NCAA Basketball Championship. However, the Wildcats were also in attendance to the single most heartbreaking sports loss of my entire life; a loss that created a lifelong hatred of the consensus most-hated franchise in all of collegiate sports: The Duke Blue Devils.

Saturday, March 28, 1992. The East Regional Final between Kentucky and Duke. Sports Illustrated would go on to proclaim this the greatest college basketball game of all-time. It probably was, because as a 10-year-old, I had never experienced such a profound feeling of loss from something as insignificant to my life as an Elite Eight game.

You know what happened. With 2.1 seconds remaining in overtime and Duke trailing 103-102, Grant Hill threw a pass the entire length of the court to a waiting Christian Laettner, who dribbled once, turned and hit a perfect jumper as time expired. Duke won 104-103, and went on to win the championship that year. Even as a kid, I knew how big this game was. My cousin and I were screaming at every point; it was back-and-forth for the entire contest. If you’ve never seen the finish of this game, I promise, PROMISE you that you will if you watch even an hour of March Madness footage over the next month. CBS seems to love nothing more than to show that shot in every package they edit.

I still love KU, even though their tournament hopes are looking quite grim (they are, however, the defending champs). Duke continues to be my most-hated sports franchise, a deep-seeded loathing that was set into motion nearly 21 years ago on that fateful Saturday. 

5:30-7:40 – UFC: Barao vs. McDonald (Live – FuelTV)

I watched this while Celia was catching up on Degrassi. Having 'DirecTV Anywhere' on your phone is a godsend. 

7:40-8:00 – Cops (DVR – FOX) 

There are a few ‘sure things’ I love about TV. Saturday Night Live. The Simpsons. America's Funniest Home Videos. Cops. I wonder where we would be, culturally, without even one of these three shows. I’m not arguing that they are equal in terms of goodness (or even if they’re good); but they’re American classics, like it or not.

8:00-9:00 – Woodstock (DVR – Palladia)

  A lot of people claim to have been born in the wrong generation. Usually this drivel comes from the mouth of a girl in a vintage clothing store when she finds a dress that fits, not taking into consideration war and civil rights and…I digress. Not me; I'm definitely a product of my era. I really quite like the fact that I was an 80’s kid, a 90’s teen and an 00’s adult. I can’t speak for the future (the cure of AIDS and/or sex robot integration will be welcome technological advances), but I probably would have been miserable in the 60’s and 70’s.

Those decades in particular seemed to be horrible in their own unique way. Case in point: Woodstock. I understand the significance and adore most of the music to this day, but it really looked like a disaster. In fact, I’m glad I watched the (four hour) documentary, because it reminded me that the problems Woodstock had in 1994 and 1999 were the exact same they had in 1969, problems that seem to get glossed over with time and revisionist history.

Faulty plumbing, mud, no food/water, and claims of violence were there from the beginning, which sort of made me happy. In 1994 and 1999, I was convinced that my generation had ruined everything for everybody. Turns out it sort of sucked ass from the get-go, and I’m fine with that.

9:00-9:30 – UFC Prefight Show (DVR – FuelTV) 
9:30-12:00 – UFC: Silva vs Stann (DVR/Live – FuelTV)

Silva vs. Stann was a war. A great fight between two fearless athletes, made even more impressive when you realize that the fights were live from Japan. I’m not great with time zones, but I think that means those guys were fighting at 10 in the morning, which has to go against a lot of warrior instincts. I’m sometimes too lazy to make coffee at 10 in the morning, let alone attempt to knock another co-worker unconscious.

(EARLY) SUNDAY.

12:00-12:30 – UFC Postfight Show (Live – FuelTV) 
12:30-12:55 – Bleach (DVR – Adult Swim) 
12:55-1:20 – Naruto (DVR – Adult Swim) 
1:20-1:45 – Soul Eater (DVR – Adult Swim) 

While I admire the philosophy and risk-taking of Adult Swim, I usually don’t watch a lot of their programming. Shows like Metalocalypse, Tim and Eric, Aqua Teen Hunger Force and Off The Air have made their way to my DVR from time to time, but I more like the idea of Adult Swim than their actual execution. Enter Toonami.

Toonami is an Anime/Action Animation block that enjoyed immense popularity for over a decade on the Cartoon Network, only to be cancelled in 2008. However, after a one-off return as part of an April Fool’s stunt, the fans came back in droves, giving Toonami another shot on the Adult Swim airwaves. Airing newer shows like Bleach, Deadman Wonderland and Soul Eater, next to classics like Cowboy Bebop, Ghost In The Shell and Naruto, there’s nothing else like it on American television.

Like I’ve discussed on here before, I’m a sucker for a good programming block, and Toonami presents itself as more of a test of attrition than anything: Six hours, 12 shows, midnight to 6am on Saturday night/Sunday morning. Each week I proclaim that I will watch the entire block in one sitting, and each week I’m asleep on the couch by 2am, which is exactly what happened tonight. Hey, I had a long day.

SUNDAY (FOR REALSIES).

10:00-10:20 – Thundercats (DVR – Adult Swim) 
10:20-10:45 – Symbionic Titan (DVR – Adult Swim) 
10:45-11:05 – Eureka 7 (DVR – Adult Swim) 
11:05-11:45 – 120 Minutes (DVR – VH1 Classic)
11:45-12:45 – Saturday Night Live (DVR – NBC)
 12:45-1:05 – Full Metal Alchemist: Brotherhood (DVR – Adult Swim) 
1:05-1:25 – Tenchi Muyo GXP (DVR – Adult Swim)
 1:25-2:30 – Badgers at Purdue (DVR/Live – ESPN2) 
2:30-5:00 – Thunder/Clippers (Live – TNT) 
5:00-6:00 – Nashville (DVR – ABC) 
6:00-7:00 – America’s Funniest Home Videos (Live – ABC)
 7:00-8:00 – Once Upon A Time (Live – ABC)
 8:00-9:00 – The Walking Dead (Live – AMC) 
9:00-10:00 – Talking Dead (Live – AMC) 
10:00-10:30 – The Simpsons (DVR – FOX) 
10:30-11:00 – Bob's Burgers (DVR – FOX) 

I know. This was sort of an atypically lazy Sunday, but I’m not making excuses. I needed it. The Walking Dead is Appointment Television at my place; we have friends over and stuff, so we always make sure to watch that live, but everything else was a hodgepodge of anything we didn’t have time for throughout the week (mostly Saturday stuff).

11:15-12:30 – Ren and Stimpy (DVR – TeenNick)

I remember seeing Ren and Stimpy for the first time when I was 9 years old in 1991. It was one of the first shows I ever remember seeing on cable, as my only early exposure to cable TV was when I got to stay at my cousin’s house. Needless to say, it blew my mind. I remember the night clearly, because I also saw MST3K for the first time that following morning, and my life hasn't been the same since. It was a pretty good weekend for me. This wasn't too bad of a weekend, either.

Time for some math.

Over the course of the week, a typical television-watching week, mind you, I somehow crammed over 90 shows and over 90 real time hours of programming into my brainball, all while writing 20 pages about it and preparing my house for an appraisal. It's personal data I don't know what to do with, quite frankly.

I wasn't planning on doing this experiment with the overall goal to gain any sort of insight into why I like television so much. I just thought it would be interesting (although I didn't know in what way). I do know this, though. If more than a few hours of television a day will rot your brain, I should have been nothing more than a gooey husk years ago.

And the appraisal was successful. Thank goodness, because I heard a rumor they're bringing DirecTV Titanium back and really need to scrape together that $7,500.

Sound off in the comments section and enjoy your weekend.

Nuclear (Nielsen) Family - Part 4.

2013-03-14T00:01:00.000-05:00

THURSDAY.  

I just finished reading Top Of The Rock, about the meteoric rise (and fall) of NBC’s ‘Must-See TV’ lineup on Thursday night. The (pretty good) book was written by the President of NBC at the time, Warren Littlefield, and it’s an oral history of the ups-and-downs of a network that has experienced more feast and famine than the other three majors combined.

The book starts with Cheers and leads into the major NBC comedy hits of the 90’s, such as The Cosby Show, Seinfeld, Friends, Frasier and Will and Grace. At this point in the Thursday night block’s run, Littlefield is unceremoniously fired and the book ends, but it’s as good of a place for the book to end as any; most TV historians know that following Littlefield’s departure, Jeff Zucker eventually took the reins and drove NBC directly into the shithouse. In fact, NBC is currently ranked fifth in network broadcasting ratings, behind CBS, ABC, FOX and Univision. Univision!

Anyway, Must-See TV has always been part of my life in one way or another. From the classic 1986 lineup of The Cosby Show, Family Ties, Cheers and Night Court, to the outstanding 2013 lineup of Community, 30 Rock, The Office and Parks and Recreation, I’ve always been watching. Even more flash-in-the-pan shows like Wings and Boston Common at least got a chance in my house, and I remember owning a pair of flip-up sunglasses just like Dwayne Wayne in A Different World.

As far as I’m concerned, Thursday night is all NBC has left at this point, and even that glory is fading. Despite all the TV I watch during the week, and despite me being in that coveted 18-34 year old male demographic that advertisers seem to salivate over, I only watch primetime NBC on Thursdays. With the exception of Saturday Night Live, there is no other show on NBC that even remotely interests me, and with the departure of 30 Rock, The Office and (let’s face it) Community this year, they’re pretty much depleting any hope of keeping me around as a viewer. I’m not so much bummed to lose these sitcoms (it’s time for them all to go), I’m more bummed that I’m losing a beloved block of TV that’s stuck on a network verging on embarrassment.

But hey, more shows will come along. That’s the beauty of a struggling network; they’re more willing to take creative chances when they’re desperate, more willing to give creative control to those who deserve it. When the FOX network first launched, they took chances on everything, and most of it was crap. But their hits from those early days (The Simpsons being the most notable) were what eventually launched it into first place many years later. The acquisition of the NFL certainly didn’t hurt, either.

4:35-5:00 – The Late Show With David Letterman (DVR - CBS) 

Tina Fey was on, equating her time on 30 Rock to getting out of prison and acclimating to a new reality. I think she’s gonna be okay.

At some point over the last few years, Letterman’s approach to his job has changed, in my opinion, for the better. He’s a bit more opinionated, a bit more curmudgeonly and a bit more honest with his guests (particularly if they are uninteresting). His knowledge of politics is vastly underappreciated and his abilities as an interviewer (despite over 30 years of experience) are vastly underrated. I grew up with this guy on my TV, and I rooted for him to take Carson’s job in 1992, but it was probably better for his career that he ended up blazing his own trail at CBS.

5:00-5:30 – Pardon The Interruption (DVR – ESPN) 

Our home appraisal was only days away, and we were still running errands like crazy in advance of it. We weren’t sure what we could do to boost the value of our home other than clean it up and light some candles, but by God, we were going to accomplish that minutiae to the best of our abilities. ALL THE POTPOURRI!

Celia came up with the idea of refinancing the house, as now seemed to be a good time in the market to do so. We were in a position to lower our monthly payments without having to increase our mortgage length, which meant more money in our pockets. However, with home prices in the gutter, there was a chance the refinancing would come in at too low of an amount, which meant that not only would our monthly payments stay the same, but we’d be out the several hundreds of dollars it took to set this thing up in the first place. It was like a weird Catch-22; a lot was on the line.

We treated ourselves to a quiet dinner, hoisted a pint to our inescapable success or failure (one or the other was guaranteed) and headed back home.

7:30-8:15 – Arcade Fire Live (DVR – Palladia)

If you didn’t catch on, we have the Palladia Channel free for the week, so I’m taping literally anything relevant off of it. It’s part of an awful tier that I would never spend money on (would you pay extra for the Smithsonian Channel?), but while it’s on my radar I plan on taking advantage of it. I mean, I think the Smithsonian is awesome, but I don’t need to pay an extra $10 a month to see the same Hope Diamond documentary every six hours.

8:15-8:40 – Community
(DVR – NBC – ‘Alternative History Of The German Invasion’) 

The Office and Parks and Recreation were reruns tonight, so Community was all we had of NBC’s Must-See TV block. And while Dan Harmon’s public departure of Community has left a noticeable (if somewhat intangible) hole in the overall flow of the episodes, it’s still a good show with good characters, jokes, meta-humor and heart. I’m still standing by it, and if you’re no longer watching specifically because of what happened to Harmon, all you’re doing is depriving yourself of a show that’s still as good as when you watched it.

8:40-9:00 – TNA Wresting (DVR - Spike) 

TNA Wrestling is the worst show in the history of television and should not be watched by anyone. Although I will say that few things are funnier than Jay Lethal's Randy 'Macho Man' Savage impression.

9:00-9:30 – 76’ers at Bulls (Live – TNT)

Disgusted by the abomination that is TNA Wrestling (an abomination I suffer weekly, by the way, because I don’t learn), I caught the end of the Bulls game for no other reason.

I enjoy basketball more now than I have since I was a kid; I think there are some teams and players now that resonate more with casual fans, and I for one have hopped back on board. I still think the regular season is too long, and the playoffs diabolically too long, but much like baseball, I like finding a game on at night that I can check out when I just want to relax.

9:30-10:15 – Mysteries At The Museum (DVR – Travel Channel)

I have no idea how many people watch this show, but it’s awesome. That’s all I’m going to say; any further attempt to sway you would come off as boring, but it’s great. One of the best educational shows on TV (and as they focus on artifacts from American museums, it’s all stuff you can visit for yourselves), I watch this excitedly every week. I cannot tell you how many things I’ve learned from this show that have randomly come up in conversations days later. If this was what the Smithsonian Channel was actually like, I’d subscribe in a heartbeat.

10:15-12:30 – Timberwolves at Lakers (Live – TNT)

With the Missus in bed, and with me no longer wanting to work on the house or even passively concentrate on a drama or sitcom, I opened a beer and watched more basketball. I find the Lakers far more interesting when their team is having personnel problems, and that’s all they seem to be known for this season. Kobe is the most entertaining athlete in all of sports when he’s frustrated and pissed off (which is quite often). It’s riveting.

FRIDAY. 

5:30-5:45 – Conan (DVR – TBS) 
5:45-6:00 – The Daily Show (DVR – Comedy Central) 
6:00-6:15 – The Colbert Report (DVR – Comedy Central) 
6:15-6:30 – Pardon The Interruption (DVR - ESPN) 

TGIF! Whooo! Typically, the Missus and I would spend our Friday evening at a restaurant with friends, reviewing the week that was before heading home for more drinks and conversation, but Friday was Zero Hour in regards to our upcoming home appraisal. All week, we had been cleaning and accessorizing, but on Saturday, my mom, sister and grandmother elected to come down for one final sweep and deep cleansing.

A couple things to clarify. I know it seems that, by all the cleaning we’ve been doing this week, my house is a disgusting nightmare of Hoarders-esque feces and sadness. Not true; in fact, it’s always pretty clean. But because I’m not sure what this appraiser is going to be looking at, I wanted to leave no stone unturned. I want it as clean as it was the day we bought it; corners dusted, every inch of carpet vacuumed, closets organized, the works. I don’t care if this jackass is in my house for all of five minutes and doesn’t once take into appreciation the steam-mopped linoleum and lilac diffusers, I’m putting my best goddamn foot forward.

Fortunately, Friday night is a ‘death slot’ for most TV networks and shows, so there isn’t much left to watch but DVR’d stuff left in the queue. It was good background distraction while the Missus and I made sure that all the liquor bottles, cocaine and left wing propaganda were tucked away somewhere discreet before my family paid a visit (half kidding).

9:00-10:00 – Bellator Fighting Championships (DVR – Spike) 
10:00-10:45 – Friday Night Smackdown (DVR – Syfy) 
10:45-11:15 – Inside MMA (DVR – AxsTV) 
11:15-12:30 – AXS TV Fights (DVR – AxsTV)

There’s nothing, and I mean nothing, less gay than three-and-a-half hours of sweaty, shirtless guys either beating the crap out of each other, or pretending to beat the crap out of each other. Nothing.

As I sat there on the couch, I thought about how hectic Saturday was going to be with my folks in our house. They were going to be moving my stuff around, opening drawers and asking me where things are supposed to go. They were going to be secretly judging me, my cats and the way that I live. They were going to wonder aloud why I had so much Tupperware, and I wasn’t going to know what to tell them (really, I don’t know where it all came from). It was enough to give me an anxiety attack. I was nervous, but extremely grateful that they were willing to help.

I sometimes think my mom wonders why I decided to move 100 miles south to Madison 11 years ago with my future wife. I think she wonders why we couldn't have just stayed in Winnebago County and attempted a quiet-yet-successful life in one of the many unincorporated towns that litter the landscape of northeast Wisconsin. Truth was, we were stuck there and need something different as quickly as possible.

We were graduated from high school, our jobs were menial at best, and we wanted to attend college in Madison. We didn't have an apartment, we were unemployed and we hadn't even visited Madison too many times before making this decision, but we had each other, and it was all that mattered at the time. Sometimes, when you have nothing and get desperate, positive things happen. You take chances, and these chances work out for the best in the long run...

Am I attempting to tie together the triumphant story of my adulthood with that of NBC's 'Must-See TV?'

Yes. Yes I am, and yes I did. I consider it a personal victory.

Really though, if this appraiser doesn’t notice how clean the house is, I’m going to boot him right square in the sack.

Nuclear (Nielsen) Family - Part 3.

2013-03-13T00:01:00.000-05:00

WEDNESDAY.

Growing up, the only thing I loved more than TV was a Snow Day. On those days where the weather was on the cusp of closing school, I would watch the morning news with unparalleled anticipation, my cereal spoon missing my mouth as all of my concentration was focused solely on the crawl at the bottom of the screen.

When your school showed up, it was like winning the proverbial Publisher's Clearinghouse Sweepstakes; the possibilities for the day were virtually limitless. It was a free day of your life, and you could do anything you wanted.

6:30-7:00 – NBC 15 Morning Show (Live – NBC)

When I woke up on Wednesday morning, snow had blanketed everything I could see outside my bedroom window. I live in a subdivision that isn’t fully connected to the rest of my city (seriously, our Main St. is split in two, and we're on the neglected side of it), so when the inevitable blizzard arrives, we usually don’t get plowed out until the afternoon.

The Missus doesn’t give a shit about snow, ice or her personal safety, so she went to work. I, on the other hand, wasn’t playing around. My anxiety on slippery roads is not one of my more entertaining quirks, and judging by the fact that every school in the county was being shut down for the day, I gladly flung my hands in the air and took a Snow Day. I didn’t have much to do at the office anyway, besides I had plenty of domestic things to take care of in advance of our home appraisal at the end of the week.

7:00-7:30 – Today (Live – NBC)
7:30-8:00 – Conan (DVR – TBS)

I want to go on record by saying that I would make a great stay-at-home dad. I keep the house clean, I can stay self-motivated and I haven’t taken a nap in over 22 years. The Missus has conceded to this truth; if we ever decide to have a baby, I will be the one who changes the diapers and…ugh, we’re never having a baby. Point is, I’m really good at staying home, and once I can finally support a career without having to leave said home, I’ll have achieved personal happiness in its purest form.

Celia does the laundry, but once it goes into the washer/dryer and the correct buttons are pushed, her job is over. I’m responsible for taking the clothes out and putting them away, which is exactly what I did from 7-8pm today. It’s a peaceful task and I don’t mind it. Furthermore, I watched both of my neighbors get their cars stuck as they were attempting to leave the subdivision, which once again made me happy to be pantsless in my bedroom on such a terrible Wednesday morning.

8:00-8:20 – The Colbert Report (DVR – Comedy Central)

With the laundry put away and the bed made, nearly 90% of my domestic chores were done for the day. With our home appraisal for refinancing looming, we had been tidying up around the clock (a big push would be made this upcoming Saturday), and there really wasn’t all that much for me to do. I made myself a cup of coffee, put some pants on (in that order) and made breakfast.

8:20-9:00 – SportsCenter (Live – ESPN)

Remember that stay-at-home dad stuff I was talking about earlier? Well, I prefer living that sort of life with my cats instead of a mewling, pooping spawn of my own hideous creation. As I was eating, I wrestled, chased and played fetch with my cats (yes, some cats know how to do that), hopefully tiring them out so I wasn’t so bothered this afternoon, as I had a few writing and business projects I wanted to do with limited feline interruption.

Before that, however, I had a new satellite channel I wanted to check out.

9:00-9:45 - iDolm@ster: Xenoglossia - Episodes 11-14
(On Demand – The Anime Network)

When I was told that my DirecTV Genie would have Internet connectivity, I was excited about the On Demand channels in the event I accidentally miss a show. What I forgot was that I now had access to The Anime Network, which was one of only two Anime channels on satellite television in the United States.

My relationship with Anime is probably different than most. I didn’t grow up with it; I discovered it in the late 90’s as the Missus was into stuff like Pokemon, Ninja Scroll and Serial Experiments Lain. As a teenager, I gave it a chance but it didn’t really click with me. However, much like discovering comics well into my late 20’s, I gave Anime another chance as an adult, and while I’m keeping a respectable distance from the obsessive culture and lifestyle that tends to drive most well-adjusted folks from the genre, I’m loving the stuff that fits into my wheelhouse.

Now I wonder why I waited so long. For example, in 1999 I had a clerk at Suncoast Video (remember that place?) ask me if I watched Cowboy Bebop, and I sort of ignorantly made fun of her. Now, after seeing it (and naming a cat after one of the characters), I feel like a large chunk of my teen years could have been even more packed with pop culture goodness if I had let Bebop into my heart when it initially aired.

Also, I really miss Suncoast Video.

iDolm@ster: Xenoglossia was not good. In fact, a lot of Anime isn’t good, and it’s the job of the American fan to sift through the garbage that floats down the river, hoping to strike gold. I was told to watch this show as the music was supposed to be good, but it most certainly was not. Just another half hour of women piloting giant robots in Antarctica. I buzzed through four episodes while answering e-mail and leafing through our 2008 home appraisal chart.

9:45-10:30 - Infinite Stratos - Episodes 9-12
(On Demand – The Anime Network)

I thought Infinite Stratos would be more action-oriented, but it reminded me a lot of current Toonami mainstay Tenchi Muyo GXP. I mean, there was action, but for crying out loud, there was an entire episode revolving around trying on swimsuits. There were more girls and fighting robots (topics I find more boring than most), but the American voice-acting was hilariously good.

As I am still new to the game, I would come to find out that these sorts of shows (where one sad boy’s affection is pined for by many women) are called ‘harem shows,’ which means that this storyline happens so much that it’s been given its own name and genre. Like I said, if you sift through enough garbage, you will strike gold. However, my time with The Anime Network was over for now; I had work to do.

10:30-10:50 – We Are Scientists Live (DVR – Palladia)
10:50-12:00 – Hurricane Festival 2012 (DVR/Live – Palladia)
12:00-1:00 – No Doubt Live (Live – Palladia)
1:00-2:00 – Mythbusters (Live – Discovery)

I work well with music, and as Palladia was one of the new channels I received with my Genie (for a week), I took advantage of their around-the-clock festival footage. We Are Scientists are a great band I had the pleasure of seeing in Madison a few years ago, and the Hurricane Festival featured performances from bands like The Cure, Rise Against, Zebrahead and Lagwagon. No Doubt’s new album is pretty much rubbish, but I liked their old catalog enough to not take the time to change the channel while I was writing.

In the true spirit of the Snow Day, I took the time to catch up on things I never do, which means I actually backed up my hard drive and re-synced my iPhone to my computer. I also worked on The Walking Dead Friday, and as the secretary/treasurer of my Homeowner’s Association, made sure that I hadn’t accidentally bankrupted us for another month. My productivity for completely benign tasks was off the chain.

From 2-4pm, I didn’t watch any TV, because I was catching up on some podcasts. In case you’re wondering what my favorites are, they’re not all that different from everyone else's: Stop Podcasting Yourself, WTF, Nerdist, Smart Wrestling Fan and a few others if I remember correctly. During my podcast listening session, I actually answered work e-mails because I was feeling slightly guilty for not being in the office. I’m stupid like that.

From 4-6pm, I was able to run some errands as we had finally been plowed out of our subdivision. I spent an hour at Target, pushing a cart full of cleaning supplies around in advance of our Saturday cleaning extravaganza. It was a pretty sexy sight if you’re into that sort of thing.

6:00-7:00 – Mollie B Polka Party (Live – RFD TV)

My wife wasn’t home yet after my Target excursion. My tasks were completed, my writing done, e-mails answered and house as clean as it needed to be. There also wasn’t anything I could watch on the DVR that the Missus didn’t want to watch as well. I didn’t really have anything to do (and reading is for chumps, says the author), so I did something I rarely get to do nowadays: Channel surf. And what I found was absolutely spectacular.

The RFD TV channel is supposed to be, I guess, a channel for the ‘rural’ satellite user. It’s basically a channel full of cattle auctions, country music collection, infomercials, Hee-Haw reruns and a show called Dutch Oven Cooking (I’m not making that up). I had seen Mollie B Polka Party other times while perusing the guide, but this time I decided to drop in and see what the show was all about.

First off, it should be mentioned that Mollie B, our polka partier and host, is surprisingly hot. From what I gathered, this show crisscrosses the nation (the south in particular, natch), showcases the local bands making a splash in the polka scene, and airs footage of them playing while unbelievably old people dance along. You’d think this would be boring. It was not. You’d also think that I’d watch it just to make fun of it in a mean, hipster way. Not true; Mollie B Polka Party was awesome.

When Mollie B interviews the polka bands before they play, it seems like this is their first time on television, and it shows. One of the older band leaders, while trying to be funny (and subtly flirt with our beloved Mollie B at the same time), said the following on stage:

“This is the best show on television…even better than that…um…”

He had panicked and forgotten the name of the show he was trying to mention. Fortunately, he came up with this amazing save:

“Even better than…um, that Showtime show with the serial killer on it.”

Outstanding. He couldn’t have wrecked that more had he done it intentionally.

The modern Dexter reference gave me pause. Despite the show being brand new, the atmosphere and filming quality give it a look that makes it appear to have been filmed in the 80’s. Honestly, if you had told me that I was watching a relic from the past, and that everyone in the audience had been long dead for over 20 years, I wouldn’t have doubted you for a second.

At one point, as they were panning through the crowd of cowboy hat-wearing geriatrics, I noticed my beloved Mollie B dancing with an African American guy. This was unbelievable to me; I was so incredulous that I had to rewind the DVR. No way did I see a willing black man at a polka show. Sure enough, my eyes did not deceive me, and I have now officially seen more black people at polka shows than I have at Wisconsin roller derby bouts (take from that what you will).

One of the acts, an accordion-playing yodeler, played alone with a drum machine accompaniment, and it was truly tragic beyond words. He had to stop singing every few measures in order to catch his breath, as he always seemed to be seconds from a heart attack (yodeling is strenuous work). He also coughed directly into the microphone a few times, which sounded great on my surround sound. Even the polka-savvy crowd was visibly stunned by some of his more bizarre antics.

Mollie B, as a host, works her ass off to make the intros, bumpers and interviews entertaining, which is no small task when you’re dealing with stage fright-riddled saxophone players and a nonagenarian audience who are using the majority of their brainpower to simply not fall over. (I should mention that I accidentally typed ‘branpower’ in the first draft, which is also fundamentally true, I assume).

One Chicago-based band towards the end, named ‘Freeze Dried,’ was pretty much a ska band with an accordion, and they were was better than they had any right to be at a Polka Party. I was so enamored that I had to get off the couch and dance a little bit with one of my cats, who mewled in general disapproval.

Finally, the last band of the night were ‘The Polka Nuts,’ who played a song called ‘Grandmother’s Polka.’ This made me miss my grandmother, so I gave her a call to say hello just as my wife pulled into the driveway.

Mollie B Polka Party. Ask for it by name. I’m sort of in love with that woman now.

7:00-8:00 - WWE Main Event (Live – ION)

This was the 3rd time this week I've seen Monday’s main event match between John Cena and CM Punk, but I watched it again anyway, as it was awesome. If you're wondering what the ION Network plays outside of this weekly WWE show, well, your guess is as good as mine.

8:00-8:25 - The Middle (DVR – ABC – ‘Wheel Of Pain’)
8:25-8:50 - Modern Family (DVR – ABC – ‘Best Men’)

Modern Family is, to me, one of the best-written sitcoms in television history. That being said, this episode in particular may have been my favorite. The Cam/Mitchell storyline was more than just them arguing (their breakup would be interesting TV), Phil continued to be my role model in life (just squeaking by Ron Swanson), and there was a Saves The Day flyer in the coffee shop where Alex’s band was playing. I thought it was a nearly perfect 22 minutes of TV. If you missed it, On Demand that shit!

8:50-9:05 - Ghost Hunters (DVR - SyFy)

You know, when Ghost Hunters premiered in 2004, I sort of believed in the potential existence of the paranormal. Even though I no longer do, Ghost Hunters still finds a way to discreetly slither its way onto my DVR, like a residual haunt would attach itself to a piece of antique furniture. Hmm.

Nonetheless, I still like to watch because I enjoy the tours of historic locations (particularly the East Coast mansions and prisons they tend to frequent). The crew, as usual, found nothing of paranormal note this week, which again proves to me that they have the easiest job in all of television. Tell me, if there were a show on the Discovery Channel called Moose Hunters, and every week they went out into the Alaskan wilderness and never found a single goddamn moose, how long do you think that show would stay on the airwaves? I’d give it three episodes, tops, yet Ghost Hunters has gone nearly nine years and counting with nothing more than grainy footage of shadows and the occasional whisper in the distance. It’s quite commendable, really.

9:05-9:30 – Two Door Cinema Club Live (DVR – Palladia)

I recorded this for Celia, as she really likes these Kermit-sounding, Irish nerdlingers.

9:30-10:15 – Catfish: The Series (DVR – MTV)

This is the first show I’ve seen on MTV in years, and it was once again recorded by me for the Missus. I try not to dig too deeply into her own personal television-watching habits, but most of it centers around deception, betrayal and spousal murder. I’m sure it’s nothing.

10:15-10:35 – The Daily Show (DVR – Comedy Central)
10:35-11:00 – The Colbert Report (DVR/Live – Comedy Central)
11:00-11:30 – Conan (DVR – TBS)

It was a long, productive Snow Day, and I did a little writing and miscellaneous work before heading off to bed. Despite taking the day off work, I answered their e-mail for the hell of it. Despite being snowed in, I still managed to sneak out to run errands. And despite watching 27 different TV shows over the course of 15 hours (including a few hours of Polka and Anime), I still made sure that the Missus didn’t have to do anything when she got home but sit down and relax. It was literally the least I could do.

When I was a kid, the Snow Day was a rare gift from the Gods of adolescence. Truth is, though, you can still experience it as an adult.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to see if Mollie B will friend me on Facebook.

Nuclear (Nielsen) Family - Part 2.

2013-03-12T00:01:00.000-05:00

TUESDAY .

One of my earliest forays into satellite television was in 1995, when my grandparents installed what is now known as a B.U.D. (Big Ugly Dish) in their backyard. I had lived with terrestrial cable for a couple of years prior to this, but 90’s satellite television was a whole other plane of existence. Remember that old Conan O’Brien skit where he would show all of the random channels the General Electric satellite could pick up? Well, that joke spawned from a true reality of just what bizarre, random entertainment was lurking out there.

Every month, we would get a satellite channel guide in the mail called Orbit. Orbit was like TV Guide, only it was about 300 pages of listings of every satellite on the planet. Once my grandparents were asleep, I would pull an all-nighter and leaf through the guide page-by-page, on an insane mission to see what was on every single channel we could dial in. Sometimes it was test patterns (a lot of time it was test patterns). Sometimes it was scrambled (which didn’t stop me). Sometimes it was plain old American programming (HBO, TBS, etc.). But every now and again, I’d stumble across the mother lode.

There were religious stations that were nothing more than one man who bought out all of the airtime on a particular channel, rambling incoherently into the camera for hours at a time. I’m not kidding. There were popular channels from Brazil, Japan, Dubai and Russia, which blew my teenage, pre-Internet mind right out of its skull. There were ‘wild feeds,’ which were raw, uncut signals from national and international networks that they didn’t necessarily want home viewers to see, but were out there anyway. Remember that episode of The Simpsons where they get satellite TV and Bart watches Tom Brokaw vomit into a pail? That all came (mostly) from real life. It was a certain type of voyeurism that could never exist again in our current TV landscape.

As you can imagine, this all was a big part of shaping my entertainment interests. When I tell people that I love Television, I don’t even mean that I love television shows. I literally love the invention of Television. I love its evolution. I love that we used to have televisions with coin slots on them. I loved the analog-to-digital conversion, which I watched live like it was my generation’s Moon Landing. I love that I could look out the window of my grandparents’ house and watch their Big Ugly Dish swivel on its axis as I continued searching for the most obscure entertainment the human race could offer.

With this in mind, there was one particular Urban Legend surrounding satellite TV that I felt compelled to ask the DirecTV guy as he was installing my Genie. And like most awesome things, it has to do with Shaquille O’Neal.

When Shaq got divorced a few years ago, his monthly expenses were made public on the Internet. One thing that caught my eye was that he claimed to spend $1,500 a month on cable TV service. This seemed astounding to me; ordering nearly every Premium, Adult and Pay-Per-View monthly still wouldn’t touch that kind of monthly price tag. Most people chalked it up to a common tendency to over exaggerate in divorce proceedings, but a few nerds decided to keep digging.

Enter DirecTV Titanium.

The website is so bizarre it almost feels like a prank, but it was supposedly an ‘elite’ subscription service that allowed you every single DirecTV channel for around $7,500 a year. Every PPV, every local, national, international, Premium and specialty channel offered, all with up to 10 DVR boxes for your (they’re assuming) massive house.

By the way, I know what you’re thinking, and the answer is yes. I would pay $7,500 a year for this service. I'd sell my car and donate plasma if I had to.

Unfortunately, when I asked the DirecTV guy, he told me that while Titanium did really exist, it ceased service a few years ago. Either I was another victim of the greatest trolling attempt in satellite TV history, or I was a few years late on what could have been the greatest home upgrade since the four-slice toaster. Dejected, I goose-stepped back to the living room and waited for him to finish his installation.

12:30-1:00 - WWE Monday Night Raw (Hulu - USA)

I re-watched Monday’s main event, as I sort of fell asleep as it was happening. I did this at work during lunch, because I am dedicated to the craft of both television watching as well as professional wrestling.

4:00-4:45 - Man vs. Food (Live - Travel Channel)

There’s a bar down the street from my office, and since my wife and I carpool, I sometimes stop there and have a drink before she picks me up. There, I took in an episode-and-a-half of Man vs. Food, which is actually a show I’ve happily watched many times before.

As a vegetarian, I’m not so much interested in the (typically meat-based) eating challenges, but more the cities and restaurants themselves throughout the nation. Although if I ever find myself an eating challenge that revolves around grilled cheese, you can bet your ass my picture’s going on their wall. 

It was at this point that the Missus and I stopped for dinner, drinks and shopping before heading home. Like I said before, we’re preparing our home for refinancing, and we figured that it wouldn’t hurt to buy some new towels and whatnot to make the place look somewhat presentable. One thing I took away from towel shopping is that nearly every home décor item sold at Kohl’s is horrendously ugly.

7:30-7:45 - Pardon The Interruption (DVR - ESPN) 
7:45-8:05 - Conan (DVR - TBS) 
8:05-9:00 - Antiques Roadshow (DVR - PBS)

Upon returning home, I watched some DVR’d stuff while filling out the dozens of forms that come with having your home refinanced. More than anything, the Missus did the bulk of the heavy lifting, and she just let me know when I needed to initial something. Look, after 13 years together, we have a system that works, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t suggest a different plan of action.

Oh, and Japandroids were on Conan, but they sounded horrible.

9:00-9:30 – The Ultimate Fighter (DVR - FX) 

If you like MMA (or are even slightly interested in it), you really need to be watching The Ultimate Fighter. It’s like American Idol or any other elimination-based reality show. 16 up-and-coming mixed martial artists are put under one roof with the promise of a UFC contract hanging in the balance. For the remainder of the season, they take part in a single-elimination tournament of ass-kicking that ends with the last man standing. If you’ve ever watched Survivor and wished that two people had to fight each other to see who got kicked off the island, The Ultimate Fighter is going to be your new favorite show.

9:30-9:45 – The Daily Show (DVR - Comedy Central)
 9:45-10:00 – The Colbert Report (DVR - Comedy Central) 

I skipped the guests for Monday’s episodes of the Daily Show/Colbert, as I sometimes do when I’m just trying to catch up. In my opinion, I find The Daily Show to be more of an important, cultural barometer, while I find The Colbert Report to be funnier. When I’m in the mood to be outraged, I’ll watch The Daily Show. When I’m outraged enough, I’ll watch Colbert. 

10:00-10:05 - Robot Combat League (DVR - SYFY) 

Sweet merciful holy shit was this terrible. I wanted to give Syfy’s new ‘fighting robots’ show a chance, because A) I remember liking Battlebots, and B) I like host Chris Jericho, but…man. I gave this no more than five minutes before I asked Celia permission to permanently delete the Season Pass. She, of course, was fast asleep.

10:05-10:25 - UFC Tonight (DVR - FuelTV) 

For some reason, ESPN and the UFC don’t have the best of relationships. Speaking as a quasi-outsider, I think it’s a combination of neither company wanting to play by the other’s rules, but all it meant for the fans was that there’s no good MMA programming on ESPN whatsoever. Fortunately for fans like me (and thanks to the UFC’s deal with FOX), we get a huge amount of UFC-themed programming on FuelTV (I believe it’s Channel 99998 in the guide, if you’re curious), including their SportsCenter-esque UFC Tonight.

10:25-11:15 - Pioneers of TV (DVR - PBS - 'Superheroes')
11:15-12:00 - Pioneers of TV (DVR - PBS - ‘Primetime Soaps’)

This outstanding PBS series is currently in Season 3, talking in-depth with the stars, writers and producers of some of the greatest television shows of all-time. It’s very well done, so much so that I’ll probably grab the DVDs at some point, making it the first time in history that I ever gave the Public Broadcasting Company any of my money after 31 straight years of mooching. I’m not a great human being, but I’m also not very swayed by things like tote bags and ‘Masters Of Doo-Wop’ CDs.

It’s sort of funny. I’ve spent decades searching through space and time for some of the widest-reaching television the planet (and its orbit) can offer. I spent the bulk of the mid-90’s making my grandparents’ satellite dish spin circles into the ground so I could check in on otherworldly broadcasts that nobody was ever meant to see. I even (successfully) tracked down an urban legend that would have given me every channel known to man.

And yet, I ended this day happily watching PBS of all things, which was one of only three channels I could tune into my bedroom TV as a kid in the 80’s. And fittingly still, it was a TV show…about TV.

I find this all sort of perfect, although I could never fully explain why.

Nuclear (Nielsen) Family - Part 1.

2013-03-11T00:01:00.000-05:00

(NOTE: For the last week, I kept a log of every television show I watched, and as a result, inadvertently kept a log of nearly everything else I did during the week. Every single show, good or bad, no exceptions. Here goes nothing.)

MONDAY .

I left work early on Monday, as I needed to be home for the DirecTV guy to install my new Genie. If you haven’t seen the (somewhat humorous) commercials, the DirecTV Genie is the greatest upgrade to the greatest invention since the Internet, the DVR. It allows for recording on five channels at once, live viewing on any TV in the house, picture-in-picture, 1 terabyte of hard drive storage and an unlimited amount of Season Pass settings. It’s a technological dynasty. It’s not even close; it may be more revolutionary than Penicillin.

When the Genie first debuted at the beginning of the year, it was only available to new DirecTV customers for a reasonable price. As it usually goes with satellite television, loyal and longstanding customers had to shell out $300 for the hardware, plus a $15/month upgrade charge. I thought this was too steep, instead deciding to wait patiently for the eventual offer where Genie became the new norm and was bundled into my existing plan.

The Missus, however, could see how sad I was that I couldn’t 840 hours of television a week, and took it upon herself to call DirecTV and get us a sweet deal. It’s one of the nicest surprises I’ve gotten in years, although I believe she may have slept with a customer service representative to make it happen. She e-mailed me at work, and I had to step out of a meeting because I nearly wept.

The install was painless enough (the contractor was a Grade A Creeper, though), and before I knew it, I was navigating the new menu and recording options like a pro. The only drawback was that I needed to re-enter all of my previous Season Pass settings, which meant I had to search and program about 70 shows into my queue, but my dexterity with a remote control is that of a true artistic master. You may think that Carlos Santana can perform magic with a finely-tuned guitar, but you’ve never seen me adjust the recording time of a last-second live event that’s about to run over its regularly scheduled slot. I should carry that shit in a holster.

One of the new functions I received with the Genie was Internet connectivity, which carried with it the ability to access things like Pandora, YouTube and dozens of On Demand channels. This meant that not only would I never miss a program again (like I don’t already), but I could download movies and shows to my queue in the background while I was sleeping or (gasp!) out of the house.

Now that every electronic appliance in our house is wirelessly networked (including the slow cooker), our next investment will have to be a bigger wireless router. It’s starting to choke on all the crap we feed into it, and I’m afraid it’ll blow out at an impromptu time, causing me to resort to cannibalism or something. The outcome is too terrifying to even hypothesize.

Once the installation guy left, my week of television watching began in predictable fashion.

2:00-4:00pm – SportsCenter (Live – ESPN)

When I’m alone in the house, SportsCenter is my background music. In fact, I have to assume that 80% of ESPN’s viewership is primarily passive; it’s just noise so I don’t feel alone when I’m balancing the checkbook and making toast. Furthermore, if you’ve ever watched more than 10 hours of ESPN in a day (which I have done several times), you’ll realize that they have literally nothing to talk about after an hour. Really, unless someone dies or gets arrested (or dies while getting arrested), SportsCenter is about as informative as a handful of Tweets (which is all you really need anyway).

Today’s major topic of discussion was once again Manti Te’o, but not because of more Imaginary Girlfriend controversy. Nope, the sports world (or ESPN, at least) was abuzz with raw horror that Manti was currently underperforming at the NFL Scouting Combine. There were reporters on the scene and a round-table discussion as to the reasons why Te’o was unable to run a decent 40-yard dash time. They even brought in a sports scientist to drop some failure physics on us. It was excruciating, but I was making lunch and running domestic errands at the time, so my passivity made it tolerable. Also, the new Genie wasn’t updated to record anything new yet, so I was sort of stuck with it.

4:00-4:30pm – Around The Horn (Live – ESPN)
4:30-5:00pm – Pardon The Interruption (Live – ESPN)

Now that I had a moment to sit on the couch, I took the time during Horn/PTI to update all of my series settings (it was beautiful). I usually watch a DVR’d PTI every day when I get home from work, but as I was home early I could watch it live. Also, I was alone, so I didn’t have the opportunity to play the Missus at Jeopardy!, which comes on at 4:30pm here in Madison. I don’t DVR Jeopardy!, but on the chance we’re both home when it comes on, we throw down. My current winning percentage over Celia is about 90% as of present day, but I think that’s because I cry when I lose and she feels bad.

 5:00-5:30pm - NBC 15 News (Live – NBC)

  I was helping Celia clean the kitchen during the news. We’re preparing our house for refinancing/re-appraisal, and we’re scrubbing the place down like we accidentally murdered someone. I have no loyalty to NBC 15 News (or any other local affiliate) other than the fact that my buddy Ben works there, and I found former afternoon anchor Carleen Wild to be extremely cute.

5:30-6:00pm – Cops (Live – TruTV)

The season settings were still kicking in, which meant another hour or so of random, syndicated, live programming. I’m not making any excuses for watching Cops, mind you. It’s unapologetically one of my favorite TV shows of all-time and a welcome go-to when there’s nothing else on (after 25 years and 900 episodes, Cops is always on somewhere).

 6:00-6:30 – Seinfeld (Live - TBS - ‘The Puffy Shirt’)
 6:30-7:00 – Seinfeld (Live - TBS - ‘The Van Buren Boys’)

During TBS’s Seinfeld hour, I took care of two very important weekly tasks: I called my mother and pretended I was on a diet.

I came to the conclusion a few days ago that I needed to lose a few pounds, so I bought a bunch of fruit and yogurt at the grocery store with the idea being that it would be all I ate throughout the course of the next two weeks. I did this because:

A) I don’t know how to diet,
B) I’m not a nutritionist, and
C) I have no concept of what it means to take care of myself.

I honestly thought this would work, but when I explained my ‘diet’ to the Missus, she explained to me that I would die of diabetes long before shedding the first pound (not counting when they sawed my foot off).

Nonetheless, I had a bunch of fruit in the fridge (and nothing else), and fruit seems to last about six seconds in my house before it rots, so I was going to have to make due with my Diabetes Diet until further notice.

I seem to love Seinfeld more in 2013 than I even did in 1995 (someone wrote ‘Seinfeld Forever’ in my 8th Grade yearbook). There’s so much about it that remains surprisingly contemporary, but even the dated stuff makes me laugh (the mere invention of the cell phone would have straightened the conflict in dozens of plots). I also think that, over the last decade, we have given Tina Fey her due as one of the funniest and most influential women in the genre, but I can’t really remember if Julia Louis Dreyfus got her due in the 90’s. I think Elaine Benes may have been the funniest female sitcom character of all-time (although Liz Lemon is close), but it was perhaps lost in the ether of the outstanding ensemble cast. I hope I’m remembering that wrong.

Also, if you can remember an episode where Jerry or Elaine were ever in George’s apartment, let me know. I’m starting to think it never happened. Kramer was over there for the ‘Bro/Manssiere’ episode, but I think that’s it.

7:00-7:15 - Adventure Time (DVR - Cartoon Network - 'Vault of Bones') 
7:15-7:30 - Regular Show (DVR - Cartoon Network - 'Caveman') 

The 1-2 punch of Adventure Time and Regular Show pretty much adds up to the best animated half hour on TV (although Bob’s Burgers may say otherwise). Adventure Time has always been a bit too surreal and trippy for kids, but its most recent season has gone completely off the rails, giving anything on Adult Swim a run for its bizarre money.

Regular Show, on the other hand, has always been a reality-bending, alternate dimension slacker comedy, and their new episodes are as good as anything they’ve ever done. These are two perfect shows to jump right into and get caught up. They’re 11 minutes long and there’s about 20 episodes a day (each) of both shows on Cartoon Network. A great way to start off Prime Time on Monday.

7:30-10:15 - WWE Monday Night Raw (DVR/Live - USA) 

Raw is my Appointment Television on Monday nights; the highest-rated show in all of cable television (except for those weeks where The Walking Dead steamrolls them), Raw represents one of the most beloved facets of my childhood: Pro Wrestling. In as much as WWE/WWF hasn’t changed since the 80’s, it has also become (surprisingly so) the most 21st Century show on TV.

Something you may not know is that Raw has become totally interactive in regards to social networking; the idea that an entertainment genre that relies on pulling one over on the fans would so lovingly embrace the Internet Age is outstanding business acumen at work. Really, if you used to be a WWE fan and it’s been awhile, give it a look the next time you’re flipping through the channels. That’s what I did in 2006 after a several year absence, and I never turned it back off.

Monday is also the night of the week where I feel most like an old man, and it’s sometimes a task to even stay awake through Raw, so I went to bed as soon as it ended. However, as I drifted off to sleep, I saw my beloved Genie continuing to work hard into the night, blue light flickering with warmth and the promise of limitless future entertainment.

Or possibly a spy camera installed by the creepy installation guy. Either way.

The Walking Dead Friday - 'Clear.'

2013-03-08T00:01:00.000-06:00

Season 3 - Episode 12: 'Clear.'

The Walking Dead Friday is upon us. We have much to discuss.

Great episode this week. They didn't gain a lot of ground physically, and the war with the Governor is still forthcoming, but the acting clinic that Andrew Lincoln and Lennie James gave us was about as good as The Walking Dead gets on that front. Carl showed some heart, Rick became slightly less crazy, Michonne has earned the trust of the Grimes Family, and Morgan...well, he's just going to go ahead and keep being Morgan for awhile.

Now, let's make with the funny.

("Hello? Could you please…AAUGH! It's Rick Grimes! Get me the hell outta here!")

(Rick insists on listening to Mumford and Sons.)

("Where did she get that calzone?")

(This is also the state motto of Georgia.)

(I don't care if it's the apocalypse, there's always time for some paintball.)

(Never mind. This is the state motto of Georgia.)

(I assume this guy was the bass player in a local Indie band.)

(It's good to see that some parts of Georgia went unscathed.)

(Where the hell did he find so much colored chalk? Does he live next to a Hobby Lobby?)

("CLEAR!")

("Damn it, Rick, admit it! When you cook a Boca Burger on a Foreman grill, it tastes just like the real thing!")

(Carl stops in for one last Root Hash Scrambler before they hit the road.)

("WE'RE OUT OF THOUSAND ISLAND IS FRENCH OKAY?")

(Thanks, Obamacare. Pssshh.)

("How did I get your picture? Magic, BITCH.")

Sound off in the comments section and enjoy your weekend.

Season 1 - Episode 1 Review.
Season 1 - Episode 2 Review.
Season 1 - Episode 3 Review.
Season 1 - Episode 4 Review.
Season 1 - Episode 5 Review.
Season 1 - Episode 6 Review.
Season 3 - Episode 9 Review.
Season 3 - Episode 10 Review.
Season 3 - Episode 11 Review.

2013 CDP Cat Update.

2013-03-06T00:01:00.000-06:00

It's become sort of a hack comedy bit, but I've never understood how Radio Shack could stay in business considering their inventory. My joke was that their revenue consisted of nothing but lamp cord and speaker wire, yet there was a location no more than 20 minutes away from anyone in America.

When I woke up from bed last week, I had become the karmic butt of my own joke, as I noticed that my newest cat, Faye, had chewed her way through nearly every piece of wire and string in the house. Two of the vertical blind strings were ruined. Two of the cords for my electronic drum set were chewed through. Most ironically, she had shredded one of my speaker wires, which meant I was hours away from doing my part to keep Radio Shack in business for yet another baffling day.

Maybe it's cats, not people, that keep Radio Shack in business. Just a thought. At this point, I'm spitballing anything that even remotely makes sense.

While Faye has a tendency to chew on stuff (she will eventually be electrocuted, which should put an end to such behavior), this was an unprecedented act of defiance. Furthermore, when I went downstairs, I saw that a potted plant had been overturned and there was blood on the linoleum. An outstanding way to start the day if I ever saw one. I nearly took the day off.

Eventually, I pieced everything together. My oldest cat, Gabe, has a recurring kidney problem (he's prone to stones and blockages), and unfortunately suffered a flare-up that had him peeing blood everywhere (the box hurts too much when you have a UTI, so you tend to go on cooler surfaces). This change in Gabe's attitude sent my other two, typically well-behaved cats (Faye and Rory) on a massive freakout rampage. It was a sympathy tantrum, and while I felt bad for all involved, I briefly entertained the notion of throwing them all into the Nature Preserve for the coyotes to deal with. These things never fix themselves.

Gabe gets sick every couple years (he's crazy old, even for a Siamese), and it always arrives at the most inopportune fiscal time. This time, he decided to suffer an expensive UTI mere minutes after our tax refund came back, money we were planning on using to buy a new car (jury's still out on that). However, the bulk of the new car money instead went straight into Gabe's wiener in the form of pills, blood tests and biopsy results.

As a pet owner, this is how you live. You give as much attention as you can while extracting as much love as possible, because when the end arrives, it's going to be sad and expensive. Cats generally don't even have the kindness to die suddenly; most of what I've had to deal with are slow, drawn-out illnesses that end in the middle of the night once your checkbook and sanity have been thoroughly tapped.

Most everyone will tell you it's worth it, though.

(Andromeda - RIP)

Several months ago, we had to put down Andromeda, our female Birman (and retired champion show cat), after she contracted a fatal genetic disease that we discovered had a 100% mortality rate. Andromeda was a sweetheart to the Missus and I, but she was quite the bully to our Siamese males, who simply couldn't understand how someone couldn't like them (Siamese are the most emo of cat breeds). She clearly came into the house as the Alpha Cat, and ruled the roost with an iron paw (she also was not declawed, which meant she had an advantage in every skirmish).

While I don't necessarily endorse buying cats from a breeder (the local shelter needs your business much more), Celia wanted a Birman, so away we went. This cat's pedigree and popularity was ridiculous; she had more trophies and ribbons than anything I've accumulated in my life. In fact, she nearly had a larger web presence than me (there were many websites that mentioned this cat by name).

She bonded instantly with the Missus, who took it pretty hard when she fell ill. However, it was amazing to see the personality change once she wasn't around. Gabe and Rory acted like a weight was lifted from them, and they could once again be as playful and personable as they wanted. We both definitely miss Andromeda, but we were happy to provide her with a happy and comfortable retirement from the weird, weird and unbelievably weird world of professional cat shows.

(Rory. 6-7 years old. A distinguished gentleman.)

Rory is initially skittish around loud noises, sudden movements and people that are going to give him a hard time, but once he warms up to you, he's as sweet and clingy as any cat I've ever owned. He's a big, beautiful boy that has since settled into his own as the official greeter of the household.

When we first adopted him, I was extremely opposed to the idea of having three cats in the house. But shit, look at him! As soon as his previous owner brought him out for me to see, I exhaled deeply and grumbled to nobody in particular as I went outside to get the cat carrier that would eventually transport him to my house. Jerk.

Seal point Siamese cats (and Siamese cats in general) are among my most favorite breeds, not just because they look amazing, but their temperament is phenomenal. They show (and retain) emotion, and their vocabulary is incredibly deep for any animal. They have so many different 'meows,' for when they're playful, angry, hungry, lonely...it's really an amazing thing when you start to pick up on the language of an intelligent cat. They're communicating with you in a way that most don't realize is possible with a feline.

(Gabe. At least 13 years old. The official ambassador of the Zeinert household.)

Gabe is old school. Literally, he's like a billion years old. Doesn't have many teeth left and has been to the vet more times than I can count, but he's currently healthy and happy, which is all that really matters when you own a pet. Believe me, I know the difference between keeping an animal alive for selfish reasons versus quality of life reasons, and Gabe is extremely happy 24 hours a day. Not only has he never bit or hissed at anyone ever, but he's never even thrown up. I honestly didn't think that was possible for any feline (Rory throws up every other day), but he's anything if not surprising.

If I had to wish perpetual sickness on any of my animals (weird predicament, I know), it would have to be Gabe, if only for how well he handles it. Rory would have a nervous breakdown and hide for weeks. Faye would bite every hand that came near her. Gabe, on the other hand, doesn't hold grudges. We've had to do some terrible things to him for the sake of his health, and he'll be back to snuggling with us just a few hours later. There's also a slight chance he might be the eternal second coming of Jesus Christ, but we'll see how that plays out.

(Faye. 3 years old. The reckless, hotshot rookie.)

We adopted Faye a month after losing Andromeda, as the Missus wanted to have at least one female cat in the house (that was an awesome argument). The bizarre thing about Faye is that, for all her unique markings and mannerisms, she looks almost identical to the first cat we ever owned, a female Siamese mix named Tinker:

(Tinker - RIP)

We had no idea that Faye looked like Tinker until the day we came to look at her. It was like seeing a ghost; she was ours the very next day. Faye is the youngest cat I've owned as an adult, and I sort of forgot that they need to played with constantly, or else they'll find more reckless ways to entertain themselves (ie: cord-chewing).

Most importantly, Faye's relationship with Gabe and Rory is awesome. It's not an alpha mentality, it's a pack mentality. They're all seemingly friendly on the same level, playing without fighting and sharing space without conflict. They're all best buds, apparently, which was an unlikely stroke of good fortune for yours truly.

So, a few weeks after a barrage of medication, Gabe appears to be back to normal. The cord-chewing and plant-uprooting has ceased for the time being, if only because I've hidden almost all of them from Faye. My trip to Radio Shack/Guitar Center to replace my speaker/drum cords was about as pleasant as a root canal, but hey, everything's status quo for another few weeks.

(A dog I saw at a parade once.)

Nothing wrong with that when you have cats.

Sound off in the comments section and enjoy your day.

It's (Still) Great To Be Eighteen.

2013-03-04T00:01:00.001-06:00

(This essay's getting a victory lap because I'm busy working on new stuff.)

Everyone in the Emergency Room was disgusted when they saw me.

As I stumbled through the coughing, sneezing and moaning onlookers, I pressed my left hand up to the left side of my head. The pain was still radiating through me, and the blood that soaked through the bandages and onto my palm was a reminder that the most painful moment of my life was seemingly finished.

My surgery was over. My mother was clutching my right forearm, leading me back to the car. I could keep my balance fine without her, but she clung to me because I couldn’t hear anything. The bandage was wrapped tightly around my head, cocooning both ears in silence. Tufts of hair sprouted out of the gaps where the turban of gauze was haphazardly applied, the left side soaked completely through with dark blood.

Even though I was hurting, I still wondered what the stunned onlookers were thinking. Maybe they thought I was shot in the temple. Perhaps they thought I had attempted suicide. A freak, earlobe-lopping accident at the barbershop was a long shot, but still entirely possible. One thing was for sure: I was officially deformed for life, and I could have easily prevented it by not being such a selfish, spineless, prideful kid.

I had turned eighteen less than two months prior, and for someone so intent on being treated like an adult, having my mother drag me out of the ER wasn’t necessarily what I had in mind. For as concerned as she was with my well-being, she still took a moment to revel in my misfortune when we got to the parking lot.

“Tell me again how great it is to be eighteen,” she said with a satisfied grin.

I couldn’t hear a word she was saying.

ONE HOUR EARLIER.

“AAAUGH! God f***ing damn it!”

I was screaming so loudly, the entire wing of the hospital must have heard me. I was face-down on the operating table, strapped in tight and given no medication for the pain. Instead, two female nurses did their best to console me as the doctor began the process of cutting the back of my left earlobe off.

“Ryan!” my mom exclaimed. “Don’t swear!”

“It’s okay,” one of the nurses said. “This is a very painful procedure.”

“SHIT PISS CHRIST,” I howled through gritted teeth, my face mashed against the vinyl gurney.

I felt every scalpel slice. I heard every incision. I felt the warmth of the blood running down my head, and in my peripheral, I could see the mountain of crimson gauze the nurses were using to soak it up. If you were to tally up every drop of blood I had spilled in the seventeen years leading up to this moment, this topped them all combined.

“This is one of the more…pervasive infections I’ve seen,” said the doctor in a horrible display of bedside manner. I responded by repeatedly kicking myself in the back with my heels. It was literally all I could do.

“Let’s start suction,” the doctor said, motioning to the quieter of the two nurses. She then produced a device I normally see at the dentist’s office, only this time around, it wasn’t being used to remove fluoride and lukewarm water from my palate. It was being used to suck the pus and blood from the gaping hole in the back of my head.

As you can assume, the sound of this was repugnant, and the sensation was unbearable. I was making up curse words by this point.

“AAAUGH! TONY SHIT-ASSING LITTLE!”

This went on for about 45 minutes, until the doctor felt that he had sufficiently cleaned out the infected earlobe. “We’re just going to bandage it up for now and let you clean it periodically until it heals,” he said. “For the love of God though, don’t OVER clean it. Jeepers…that lobe blew open like a spider egg; you’re lucky the infection didn’t get into your bloodstream.”

“Thank you for your time,” I said, composing myself as the nurses unstrapped me and began wrapping the gauze turban around my head. One of them got my mom’s attention. “Please assist him out; his hearing may be impaired.”

ONE DAY EARLIER.

“You have to go to the hospital right now,” Celia said. Thankfully, she was speaking to me again.

My girlfriend was checking out the back of my ear; I had been hiding it as best I could for the last six weeks, but it was becoming too big of a concern (emotionally and literally) to ignore.

Every day, the infection seemed to get bigger. No amount of ointment, rigorous cleaning or gentle massage seemed to do the trick. The pain was intense, and the swelling was now at a veritable breaking point. “It looks like a peanut M&M full of pus,” Celia said, silently contemplating just how much of a naive doofus her boyfriend really was.

“Serves you right, really,” she chirped as she inspected the discolored lump. “This would have never happened if you wouldn’t have ditched me.”

“I…ouch…I already told you I was sorry,” I said. “Besides, it…OW!...it wasn’t my fault. And it was my birthday.”

“Yeah…how’s being eighteen working out for you, by the way?”

“Okay, that’s enough. I’ll go to the hospital tomorrow.”

TWO DAYS EARLIER.

I reached my breaking point on St. Patrick’s Day.

At school, all of us seniors wore shamrock-shaped nametags around our necks, and throughout the day we would give our lanyards away to a person of our choosing. This could be a significant other, a good friend or merely a random passerby (if you didn’t care). Like most high school gimmicks of this nature, the popular kids were given the most nametags, and the rest of us felt like the Sneetches without stars.

I was sitting in the library, doing the People Magazine crossword puzzle, waiting for Celia to show up so I could give her my lanyard as a way to apologize. Surprisingly, nobody had noticed my infected ear to this point; I was covert in my mannerisms and always backed away from friends when I ended conversations. Sort of.

Just then, Paul strolled in. Paul was a gangly, overbearing, foul-mouthed bully (one of those kids that got held back in kindergarten and took it out on the rest of the class for the next 12 years). I usually steered clear of Paul’s wrath, but he was on the warpath today, snatching lanyards from around the necks of anyone in his way. I’d say he was sporting about 30 of them by the time he got to me.

“I’ll take this,” he grunted, as he violently yanked the lanyard from around my neck with an upward thrust. I was in the midst of standing up as this happened, perfectly content to remove the nametag myself and simply hand it to the mongoloid… but I didn’t do it in time. The pain hit me a millisecond before I realized what had happened: the back of the lanyard was snagged on my massively swollen earlobe, and Paul was tugging on it with all his might.

I’m not one to pick fights with bullies, but not only was I in pain, I also faced potential eternal embarrassment if my secret was discovered. Losing the nametag was no big deal; having the Class of 2000 discover an alien life form growing out of the back of your ear is another disaster altogether. I flipped out and started swinging until the lanyard came loose and we had to be separated.

Minutes later, I ran into the bathroom to survey the damage. The cyst was bleeding and hemorrhaging, and I spent the next 10 minutes getting it to stop long enough to face my peers for the remainder of the day. Celia, expecting to receive my shamrock, continued to not speak to me.

I couldn’t do this anymore. I had to tell someone.

TWO WEEKS EARLIER.

People with OCD shouldn’t get their ears pierced.

Everything I read preached constant cleaning and meticulous attention, but nobody said anything about the risks of over-cleaning and excessive attention. Using alcohol, saline and peroxide to the point where your body no longer manufactures the necessary chemicals with which to properly ward off infection and allergy. Chalk it up to inexperience; this was my first time.

When the swelling initially began, I did my best to drain it naturally and let nature do the rest of the work. However, once things began to get out of hand, everything closed up shop and I was unable to get anything out of there. Even my earring was stuck.

Nonetheless, I kept this a secret, mainly to save face in front of my girlfriend (who wasn’t talking to me) and mother (who was pissed off beyond words), but mostly because I was embarrassed and terrified. This was supposed to be something I did to look cool and rebellious, not something I did because I wanted to go to the hospital and get a piece of my head lanced off.

ONE MONTH EARLIER.

On the day of my 18th birthday, I was supposed to be at the high school. Celia was playing in the school’s Pep Band, and I promised her that I would be there to see her play for the first time. However, my friends had different plans for me.

“We’re taking you to the mall to get your ears pierced. It’s free on your 18th birthday.”

"Guys, I really don’t want to do this. Besides, I need to be back at the school. Celia’s playing in the-"

“So what? You’re not leaving the mall until this gets done.”

At this point, my friends had a 60/40 stroke over my decisions compared to Celia. However, today was the last day they would misuse their power of manipulation over me, as from February 2, 2000 onward, this Balance of Power switched permanently. In a moment of teen selfishness, I went along with this excursion, and Celia played her first Pep Band concert in front of nobody. I apologized to her from a pay phone in the Food Court, but she was having none of it.

The piercing didn’t hurt, but my anxiety was already in hyperspace. I asked volumes of questions concerning care and maintenance; why I didn’t just tear it out when I got home is beyond me. I guess part of me thought it was cool, and at that point in my life, I was doing anything I could to demonstrate my newfound independence in front of my mother.

That night, I burst through the front door of my mom’s house sporting my piercing with pride.

“It’s great to be eighteen!” I shouted. And it was.

11 YEARS LATER.

Celia, now my wife, claims that it looks like a ‘baby’s butt.’

She’s referring to the back of my left earlobe, which long ago shrunk and healed up, but not before leaving me with a lump of misshapen scar tissue that (to her, at least) looks like the rump of a newborn. I never got another piercing, and to this day, my mother reminds me about the masterful judgment lapse on my first official day of adulthood.

We all make mistakes. Some of us get arrested. Some of us get our asses handed to us in an alley. For me, I just wanted to impress my friends and rebel against my parents in the most stereotypical way possible. In doing so, I was reminded that when it comes to me, there’s no such thing as ‘the most stereotypical way possible.’ I’ve heard a lot of horror stories about tattoos and piercings, but most of them don’t end with “And then they lanced my earlobe off.”

Lesson learned. Again.

The Walking Dead Thursday - 'I Ain't A Judas.'

2013-02-28T00:01:00.000-06:00

Season 3 - Episode 11: 'I Ain't A Judas.'

The Walking Dead Friday is upon us ONE DAY EARLY! However, we don't have much to discuss.

So, here's the thing. I don't know if this was done on purpose due to the fact that The Walking Dead was competing directly with the Oscars, but 'I Ain't A Judas' wasn't all that good of an episode. It did its job by establishing more battle lines as Rick and the Governor prepare for war, but apart from Andrea re-introducing herself to the prison crew, we didn't get much else.

So, let's not mince words. Make with the captions, joke monkey!

(The front row of every Mumford and Sons concert.)

(Rick gets caught peeping the sexy next-door-neighbor zombie.)

(Black Friday arrives earlier every year.)

("Nobody's stealing my pen ever again.")

("What was I thinking? My eyeball isn't a candle!")

NOTE: I laughed really hard at this, even if nobody else does.

(Rick is informed that Andrea didn't bring a dish to pass.)

("Milton, the time to test your loyalty is now. You're the new Andrea; I'll see you at my place in an hour.")

("Beth, if you don't stop singing Tom Waits I will throw you into the courtyard.")

(Zombies like two things: Brains and coconuts.)

(In Atlanta, these are 5-star accommodations.)

("Milton, we can no longer speak until you learn to move your arms when you walk.")

("Okay, so you have asthma, you've never fired a gun and you're wearing a women's shirt. Great, we're screwed.")

("See this? It's a Bible. It's bullshit.")

("Like this, see? Back-forth-back! Are you listening?")

Sound off in the comments section and enjoy your weekend (I'm taking tomorrow off). More new stuff next week.

Season 1 - Episode 1 Review.
Season 1 - Episode 2 Review.
Season 1 - Episode 3 Review.
Season 1 - Episode 4 Review.
Season 1 - Episode 5 Review.
Season 1 - Episode 6 Review.
Season 3 - Episode 9 Review.
Season 3 - Episode 10 Review.

Middle School Spelling Bee Champion Speaking.

2013-02-27T00:01:00.001-06:00

The bad news is that somebody at my office cannot spell.

The good news is that they didn't give up.

Sound off in the comments section, keep reaching for that raibnow, and enjoy your day.

You're Welcome.

2013-02-26T00:01:00.000-06:00

Confession time.

Each time I'm at the Apple Store or Best Buy, I take increasingly more and more psychotic pictures of myself and set them as wallpaper on every available tablet and computer.

"You're welcome."

Sound off in the comments section and enjoy your day.

Shining Like A Beacon From Coast To Coast.

2013-02-25T00:01:00.000-06:00

A few months ago, the Missus and I went to a museum in the Fox Valley. The majority of the museum was a celebration of local manufacturing and transportation within the Fox Cities, particularly the modernization of such at the turn of the 20th Century.

The Fox Cities experienced a boom at the turn of the century with paper mills, floating logs down the Mississippi River and experiencing an overwhelming amount of prosperity and population growth. However, the widespread clearing of lumber, coupled with the stratospheric growth of the steam engine, allowed for commerce to expand away from waterways, essentially leaving the Fox Cities in a rebuilding period that lasted for decades.

Now, I'm almost positive that all of what I wrote was factually and historically incorrect, as I didn't take the time to look it up and forgot nearly everything I learned at the museum (as is my custom). None of that is important, however. What's important is the above photo.

Located at areas around the museum were these Q & A stations where a question was posed relevant to the exhibit, and you were encouraged to write your answer on a Post-It Note and stick it on the wall. Pretty ingenious way to get people (especially kids) involved in education, if you ask me. They were everywhere, and some of the things that visitors wrote were more interesting than a lot of the exhibits themselves.

The photo above illustrates one such question, and in tune, the answers were thoughtful and intelligent. The most important invention in transportation, depending on what sort of person you are, could be any number of things. Who could deny the automobile, the chief mode of transportation for normal human beings for over 100 years now? Or what about the airplane, allowing us to not only experience the miracle of flight, but also shrink the globe and make travel to nearly anywhere on the planet possible? Or what about the railways, allowing for goods and services to reach every corner of the nation, allowing for families and businesses to thrive regardless of where they were located?

Or what about dishwasher?

Sound off in the comments section and enjoy your day.